All the characters in the following story are owned by Spelling Television Inc. [A subsidiary of Spelling Entertainment Group Inc.]. Vampire: The Masquerade is owned by Mark Rein*Hagan/White Wolf Publishing. My use is in no way a challenge to their copyrights. Miriam appears [briefly] courtesy of Rebecca Lloyd. The story and events are mine. If you have any comments, please send them to: Schweighsr @ aol.com AUTHOR'S NOTE - PLEASE READ : This story is in a time line with "The Hunt", "Stranger in Town" [by Rebecca Lloyd] and "Kindred Spirits" . It occurs immediately after "Kindred Spirits". To summarize : Lillie has seduced Frank Kohanek. Sasha is unable to Hunt on her own as she usually kills her human prey. Camilla has left the Sabbat with the help of her former pack-mate, Miriam [also known as N'kamah ]. Julian Embraced a young man named Eric Sheridan who was killed by Cameron's Fledgling, Anthony Meeker, in an attempt on Julian's life. Anthony Meeker was then killed in a brutal Gang-land style retaliation, which brings us to.... -----------------------------------------SINS OF THE FATHERS----------------------------------- ------------------------------------------By Kelly Schweighauser------------------------------------- ********** For I am a Jealous God, visiting the sins of the fathers on to the children to the third and fourth generations. -Exodus 20:5 ********** "I'm sorry that I've been so busy," Julian said, handing the dozen red roses to Caitlin. Her lips pursed as she accepted them. "I hope I haven't been ignoring you." "Actually, you and Lillie have both been so busy lately that I thought you had run off and eloped," she replied, her eyes brittle. She stood unmoving in her front doorway, obviously reluctant to let him back into her house. Or perhaps into her heart. "Lillie has kept me very busy these last few weeks," he admitted. He had to smile at the spark of jealousy that flared in his lover's eyes. "She's fallen in love with a police officer." "Lillie?" Caitlin exclaimed. "That's wonderful! I'm very happy for her." "I wish I could share your enthusiasm," Julian replied dourly. "But Lillie in love is a frightening thing. She's thrown her whole attention into this new amour, and is neglecting her businesses shamefully." "You are upset because Lillie has a personal life?" Caitlin smiled at him. It was good to see her smile again. "Julian, you have a problem." "Yes," Julian agreed, leaning close to Caitlin. "Her name is Lillie Langtry. She *forgot* to deposit the weekend receipts," Julian made quotation marks with his fingers. "So she missed a loan payment. As her principal creditor, I am not amused. I don't have time to run her businesses in addition to my own." "No," Caitlin wrapped her arm around him. "You don't." "I told her that I thought she was just doing this to annoy me," Julian told her. "She called me vain, self-centered, egotistical and conceited." "Wow! She's good, isn't she?" Caitlin laughed. "Your entire personality in just four words." "Are you going to forgive me for not calling on you for so long?" Julian asked. "I admit, it won't be the last time it happens." "I'll think about it," Caitlin smiled stepping back and holding the door open for him. "C'mon in the house. Actually, I've been pretty busy, too. I probably couldn't have gone out with you if you *had* called. I've got a great story going - a major week-long series, actually. We are talking Pulitzer Prize material." "Caitlin," Julian interrupted as they entered her living room. "When did you get a cat?" "Oh, Julian, this is Lion. I got him at the shelter. Isn't he beautiful?" She noticed the expression on his face. "You're not allergic, are you?" The animal in question was a butter-colored long-haired breed, arching it's back and hissing at him from the sofa. It recognized him as another predator and wanted him out of its territory. "Not exactly," he told Caitlin stiffly. "I just don't like cats, and they seem to be able to sense that." Anything to explain Lion's hostility. "Gee, Lion is usually so friendly," Caitlin said, crossing to the animal. "I got him because he was so affectionate." "Caitlin, don't!" Julian cried in alarm when she moved to pick the hissing cat up in her arms. He took an involuntary step forward, and the cat spat it's displeasure. Julian felt his eyes change, an instinctive reaction, and forced them to change back. The brief flash was enough to convince the cat, though. Lion turned and ran, his rear claws gouging Caitlin's bare arm in passing. The cat lunged through the kitchen and out the open window over the sink. "No! Lion!" Caitlin exclaimed, darting toward the front door. "Come back!" Julian caught her on the lawn. "Caitlin, you're bleeding." And the scent was driving him wild with Thirst and desire. Cash and Lorraina were standing by the car, and he didn't want to share. What am I thinking, he shuddered. He couldn't drink Caitlin's blood! "Julian," she almost sobbed. "He's a house cat, he's been de-clawed. And the Robinson's Doberman gets loose...." "We'll find your cat, ma'am," Cash volunteered. "You go inside and enjoy the evening with Mr. Luna." From his expression, he had scented her wounds and guessed at what enjoyment Julian would get out of the evening. Julian glowered and tugged Caitlin back towards the house. "All right," Caitlin equivocated. "I'll get you the box of treats, or he'll never come to you." "Oh, no need for that, Ms. Byrne," Lorraina gave her a predatory smile. "We're really very good with animals. Pets love us." "Caitlin, your hand," Julian insisted, holding the still bleeding limb as far away from himself as possible. It would stop bleeding instantly if he would lick the wound. All he had to do was taste a few drops of her blood one more time and.... No! He had to resist the temptation. If he surrendered to his hunger for her now he might never be able to resist Feeding from her. "Oh, all right, Julian," she said impatiently. "It's just a scratch. You are the last man I ever thought would be frightened of a little blood." He closed the door behind them and hustled her to the sink. "I try to hide it," he answered, thrusting her hand under some cold running water. The smell of her blood began to dissipate. "So tell me about this prize winning story you are going to publish," he told her. Please, get my mind off of my appetite, he thought. Sweet Caine, he'd fed less than an hour ago! The last thing he needed was more blood. "You know this mob war that's been going on? Eddie Fiori and all those shady-types dying and disappearing?" Caitlin was watching him carefully. "Apparently it's a take-over by a man named Cameron. We're doing a week-long expose about him, the mob, the killings. Everything." Julian stopped thinking about his Thirst. ********** Sasha crept down the mansion's main staircase as quietly as she could and stole up behind the young mortal man admiring his reflection in the gilt-framed mirror. She had to be careful, not only to keep her image out of the mirror, but also because the floor of the entrance hall was marble, and her high heels had a tendency to click. She concentrated on her hunting skills, gliding up slowly and carefully on her prey. He didn't sense her at all, even when she was less than a foot away. "Hey, Doofus," Sasha breathed into Donald's ear. "How's it going, cousin?" Then she laughed at the way he jumped. Well, she was getting better at keeping quiet when she walked, at least. Donald obviously hadn't heard her behind him at all. "Sasha!" Donald gasped, twirling to face her. "What are you doing here?" "You'd know if you'd bothered to go to Grandpa's funeral," Sasha replied, leaning back against the hall table. "I heard you put on quiet a show," Donald frowned. "But that doesn't explain why you're in San Francisco." "Well, after I got thrown out of the wake for being drunk and disorderly, Uncle Julian decided to take me in," Sasha smiled. "I live here." "You live here?" Donald repeated. He looked around the mansion's lavish entry hall in disbelief. "Here?" "Yes, here," Sasha retorted. "What's so unbelievable about that?" Donald had the grace to look embarrassed. "I just didn't think that this was your style," he explained. "I mean, lately you've been into leather and motorcycles. Rebel without a pause, and all that." Sasha grinned. "Well, Uncle Julian is definitely 'my style', if you know what I mean. He certainly knows how to keep a girl happy." Donald's jaw dropped as he took in her implication. Sasha suppressed a laugh - he was so gullible, it almost wasn't fun messing with his mind. Almost. "You and Uncle Julian? Are... are?" "Sometimes," she lowered her eyes in false modesty. It helped to keep her laughter in check. "It's very convenient for him. He doesn't have to lie about me being his 'niece', after all. And I'm getting a real education out of it, too." "Holy shit," Donald breathed. "Sasha, why does everything just drop in your lap? I'd give my right nut to live in a place like this." "I don't think he goes for boys, Don," Sasha informed him. "But if you want to ask him...." She had to bite her lip when he blushed. Let old Doofus think of a reply to that one, she thought. What a moron. The door to the library opened and Julian and Cassandra stepped out. Cassandra managed to juggle her laptop, several manila files and the newspaper and still hold the door for the Prince. She took a long look at Donald and turned abruptly in the other direction. Ventrue, Sasha frowned. "Donald, how good to see you again," Julian extended his hand and Donald shook it. "Sorry to leave you standing. I hope Sasha kept you entertained." "I did my best," Sasha smiled and gave her uncle a kiss on the cheek. She wanted to see how far she could push her prank on Donald. Julian wasn't the least bit embarrassed. He smiled appreciatively and gave her a squeeze in return. "It's good to see you too, Uncle Julian," Donald said. "About why I called...." "Jeffrey tells me dinner is laid," Julian gestured towards the seldom used dining room. "Won't you join us?" Sasha stifled a sigh. Julian would want to keep the Masquerade. She hated eating. Maybe they wouldn't notice if she just picked at her food. Or she could claim she was on a diet.... Dinner was a roast tenderloin of beef, easily enough to feed a dozen people. It was rare and swimming in a sea of it's own juice. Predictably, the smell of cooked meat turned Sasha's stomach. She let Jeffrey hold her chair for her, and took the plate he'd filled with a forced smile. Ignoring the meat, she speared a single green bean on her fork. She examined it carefully to be certain that it was untainted by butter or the meat juice before she popped it in her mouth. Uncle Julian smiled approvingly. "Yum," she said. Don was wolfing down the slab of meat on his plate as if he hadn't eaten in a month. "This is great, Uncle Julian," he nodded in response to Sasha's comment. "I'll convey your compliments to the cook," Julian responded, even though Jeffrey was standing right there. Sasha had to give the silent Ventrue credit for one thing, he had more intestinal fortitude than she would ever have if he was able to actually prepare a meal. She cut up her meat and hid some of the pieces under the potatoes. "So, how is school, Donald?" Julian asked. Sasha frowned at his plate, he really looked as if he were eating the food on it. She forced herself to swallow another green bean and played with her roll. "I think I'm going to drop out," Donald replied. "School is bogus. I'm not learning anything there. And it's, like, full of kids trying to hide from Real Life." "Real Life?" Julian prompted. Sasha rolled her eyes and ate a crumb from the roll. Who cared what cousin Doofus thought about Real Life anyway? Donald was the bogus one, not the university he was attending. A charter member in the philosophy of the week club, and not a very smart one at that. "Y'know," Donald answered around a mouthful of food. Sasha had to return her eyes to her plate. What a sight - she felt even queasier than before. If she ate one more bite she was going to be sick. She sipped her wine instead, then held her glass for Jeffrey to refill. "Life outside of college." "But without an education how will you find a decent job?" Julian enquired, polite as always. "Well, that's why I called," Donald admitted. "I thought I could work for you." Julian raised his eyebrows and looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid that without a college degree you'd be just as limited in any of my companies as you would anywhere else. Nepotism aside, you need a solid education to advance." "I wasn't talking office work," Donald replied. "I'm not exactly the corporate-type, if you know what I mean. That nine-to-five shtick ain't exactly my bag." "What else is there?" Julian enquired. "Drugs," Donald told him. "I've been dealing on campus - and making good money, too - and I thought: why not cut out the middle man?" "Middle man?" Julian repeated, looking as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard. Sasha was so absorbed in watching that she put a piece of potato in her mouth before she'd realized it. Julian would never forgive her if she spit it out, so she grimaced and swallowed, then drained her wine glass a second time. "Yeah," Donald continued, ignoring or oblivious to his uncle's expression. "If I got'em straight from you, then the profits would be way up and I could even cut prices to undercut the competition." "Donald," Julian sounded bewildered. "I don't deal drugs." "Well, not you personally," Donald shrugged. "But everybody knows you're in charge of importing them." Sasha toyed with the idea of setting her cousin straight on exactly how drugs were imported and distributed in the San Francisco area, and by whom, then discarded it. It was going to be too much fun watching Uncle Julian get out of this one. "'Everyone' is wrong," Julian replied stiffly. "I have nothing to do with drug trafficking, Donald." Sasha nodded, technically Julian wasn't even lying. Cameron handled the actual business through half-a-dozen intermediaries. Julian just kept the cops off of the Brujah's backs and collected his tithe of the profits as Prince of the city. What Donald obviously hadn't figured out was that the layers of middle-men were required to keep the guys at the top, like Cameron, safe whenever one of the underlings or actual dealers got arrested. But then Donald always was little slow. "Oh, C'mon, Uncle Julian," Donald protested. "That's what you say to the cops, but I'm your nephew...." "Donald," Julian said firmly. "Stay in college and stop dealing drugs. There is no future in drug dealing. Especially for you." "But...." "I have nothing more to say on the subject," Julian said firmly. He returned his attention to his dinner and no matter how Donald hinted and cajoled he wouldn't discuss it further. ********** "My lord, how appalling," Julian said after Donald had finally left. "What is this family coming to?" "And you thought I was the Bad Seed," Sasha laughed. "I think we should have cousin Donald over more often - I look good by comparison." "I hardly consider armed robbery to be a better occupation than drug dealing, Sasha," Julian frowned. "But armed robbery isn't my occupation, Uncle Julian," Sasha retorted sweetly. "It's my hobby." "Oh, that makes a big difference," Julian nodded. "Totally different deal," Sasha assured him. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get this disgusting food out of my stomach and then gargle with bleach for, like, an hour. You are a real sadist, you know that? All that burned meat has put me off my appetite." "It's a good thing that Donald was so self-absorbed," Julian replied. "You hardly ate a thing." "I did too eat!" Sasha declared. "A lot more than I wanted to." "Two green beans, a piece of potato and a taste of your roll," Julian said. "Isn't enough to maintain the Masquerade. Look at your plate. I think there is more food there than when we started the meal." Sasha started to protest but Jeffrey interrupted her. "There are tricks that make it appear that Kindred are eating, when they are not. With your permission, Julian, I could teach some of them to Sasha." Sasha twisted her head around to stare at the tall Ventrue. That was more than she'd ever heard him say before. "Very well," Julian agreed rising. "You can start tonight, if there is time in your schedule." "I'll make time," Jeffrey bowed. "Don't I get a say?" Sasha asked. "I wanted to go out tonight." "No," Julian smiled. "You do not get a say." "Sadist," Sasha grimaced. "That's *my* hobby," Julian replied, kissing her on her forehead. "I have a meeting with Caitlin at the paper, and afterwards I'll be at the club. Once you are finished your lesson, you may join me. I'll even help you Hunt." Sasha made a face. "I'd rather drink bleach. I wasn't kidding about my appetite. I think if I Fed tonight, I'd be sick for a week." "Goodnight, then," Julian chuckled, heading for the door. "I'll see you before dawn." Donald thumped his head on the steering wheel a few times before trying to start his car. Why didn't anything ever go right? Uncle Julian had this great place, about a billion dollars, and even Sasha, and he wouldn't even share. Son-of-a-bitch. It wasn't fair. He had to really crank it before the Cobra's engine would turn over. It needed a new alternator, a ring-job, new brakes.... He just didn't have the money. The best he could do was wash and polish it every week, but it ran like shit. He hadn't told Uncle Julian just how desperate things were getting. He had already dropped out of school - he'd used the last check his mother had sent him for his tuition to buy drugs for re-sale. And while he did have a big market, the profit margin barely covered his own habit. Things had gotten so bad that Becky had to get her old job back, waiting tables at T.G.I.Friday's, just so they could pay the rent. God, Donald hated that. Girls had it easy, Donald decided. Look at Sasha. All she had to do was lie on her back a couple of times a week and she got it all. This great house, all Uncle Julian's money. She didn't have anything to worry about. Why couldn't his life be like hers? It would be, he vowed. One day. One day, soon. He'd have everything Sasha had and more. Even better, he'd be just like Uncle Julian. That thought made him smile. Yeah, then everything would be easy - he'd have money, women, great drugs, life would be just perfect. When he was just like Uncle Julian. ********** Julian examined the photographs in the research file he'd taken from Caitlin's desk. Police photos of Eddie Fiori's office taken after Eric's destruction were mixed with detective reports, autopsy photos and the results of her reporters' interviews. Cameron's Brujah had been too enthusiastic, he thought with a sigh. Probably to redeem themselves from the taint of association with Eric's murderer. It had been one of their own who had extinguished Julian's Childe. "You aren't thinking of publishing these, are you?" He asked when he heard Caitlin enter the room. One particularly gory photograph showed how the Brujah had piled the heads of their victims on Eddie's desk when they were done. Julian wished he had been well enough after Eric's destruction to order the Nosferatu to take care of things. They wouldn't have left so much evidence behind. Of course everything about that night was far off and fuzzy. For all he remembered, he could have directed Cameron to leave the heads. "Not on page one," Caitlin smiled. She peeked over his shoulder at the picture and winced. "And not that one, anywhere. I can't imagine anyone waking up to that over breakfast. Ugh!" "You have to wonder about the kind of monster that could do that sort of thing," she continued, circling her desk to take her chair. "You should see the autopsy reports. They read like a Stephen King novel. I know these guys were criminals, but the way they were literally tortured to death...." "I don't think that the newspaper has to expose that sort of detail, Caitlin," Julian argued, dropping the folder back onto her desk. "I've warned you about sensationalism before." "Aye, aye, Captain," she mock saluted. "I understand. I'll tell Silberman and Reese to be very discrete. Of course, some of the detail has to come out. Anthony Meeker was found with a sword driven through his heart, so the police think it's related to the union official who was impaled a couple of months ago...." "That is exactly the sort of thing I *don't* want," Julian maintained. Linking the two stakings so prominently would be like a beacon to Vampire Hunters. And there were dozens of other clues that had been left behind. If he didn't keep them out of the news, San Francisco would be crawling with deluded mortals seeking to end the 'Kindred threat' before he could blink. "Why not?" Caitlin demanded, throwing up her hands. "Julian, it's an important aspect of this case. This Mob War has been brewing for months. Now that it's exploded people are going to want to know about it." "No one outside of Organized Crime has been hurt, correct?" Julian reminded her. "I see no need to terrorize the general public when they are in absolutely no danger." "We are not 'terrorizing' anyone," Caitlin protested. "Articles like this keep people from the suburbs out of the city," Julian reminded her. "I can't afford to lose business in the entertainment industry. Not to mention that tourist season is coming up, and people reading this story might not want to visit a city in the middle of a 'Mob War'." "Are you asking me to kill this story?" Caitlin demanded. "No. Of course not," Julian assured her. "I just want you to present it in a way that's not objectionable. Something that portrays the city in a reassuring light. So that your readers are assured that the police are doing a good job and the city is as safe as it ever was." "Julian!" Caitlin exclaimed in exasperation. "The police don't have a clue! There aren't going to be any arrests for these murders. It's almost as if there is a deliberate cover-up." "Caitlin," Julian shook his head. "Why are you fighting me on this?" "Why are you so intent on altering the angle of this story?" She retorted. "Because if you present this as a big scandal it will cost me millions of dollars," Julian replied. "Ninety percent of my investments are right here, in San Francisco. The city's fortunes are my fortunes. I simply can't afford to have *my* newspaper spoil the rest of my business. I want you to win your Pulitzer, Caitlin, but not if it's going to cost me that much." "Are you implying that you can buy me a Pulitzer Prize?" "If you write this article the way you want to," Julian nodded. "That is exactly what I'll be doing." "That's... that's..." Caitlin shook her head, looking more mystified than angry. "I can't believe you'd say that. I can't believe you'd say that to *me*." "I love you, Caitlin," Julian admitted. "But I need to see the whole article before it goes to print. I can not compromise on this." "You don't trust my judgement?" Caitlin demanded. "Why did you give me the editor's job, then?" "I trust your judgement," Julian replied. "But I have too much riding on this not to want to take a personal interest. I hope you can understand that." Caitlin looked at him. "I thought I could, Julian. I thought I understood you - but obviously, I don't." ********** "Did he give you the money?" Becky asked the minute that Donald walked in the door. Why couldn't she ever control herself, he wondered. Show him a little consideration? Even worse, she was still wearing her uniform from work, only now it was decorated with spit-up from her damn brat. "No," he snarled. "He wouldn't give me the money. Cheap bastard barely gave me the time of day. And my Mom said I could always go to him for help. Some help he was!" Becky cringed back. "I made dinner," she barely whispered. "I'm not hungry," Donald growled, throwing himself into his chair in front of the TV. He rooted around beneath the coffee table until he found his stash box. He pulled out his baggie and the mirror and cut himself a few lines. Becky crept around behind him, tidying the place, although it was already spotless. He would never have thought before she'd moved in what a neat freak she would turn into. But her meekness was beginning to get on his nerves. Christ, he'd apologized a thousand times for last weekend, and besides, none of the bruises showed. Why couldn't she realize that he really regretted losing his temper? But she continued to act as if he was some kind of an ogre. "You want some of this?" Donald offered, holding out the mirror. It would mean less for him, 'cause they were almost out, but it would be worth it if she'd just relax. "Not tonight," she replied. "It'd just put me right to sleep." "Fine," he snapped, twisting away from her. "No skin off of my back." He turned on the TV, then did both lines as fast as he could. That way he had a reason not to share if she changed her mind. Donald channel surfed until the coke hit his system. Metallica was on MTV, and "Until It Sleeps" seemed so portentous and filled with meaning that he turned the volume up to maximum and just let it wash over him. Becky ruined that, of course, or her brat did. The kid woke up screaming and Becky had to pick him up. Donald turned the volume down resentfully, but the baby wouldn't stop crying. "I told you to get an abortion," Donald reminded her. "But *Nooo*. You wanted to be a Mommy." "He'll go back to sleep in a minute," Becky whined. She slipped into the kitchen and brought him a beer. He clicked MTV off and switched to ESPN and a soccer game. When the commercial came on he channel surfed some more. Becky brought him another beer and a bag of nachos. "Why don't you have another hit," she invited. "I got some good tips today." "How much?" he demanded. She produced a wad of bills from her pocket. It was mostly fives and tens with only a few one dollar bills mixed in. "Hey, great," he grinned. "With what we got left I can buy up a bunch of crank and sell it on campus. Finals are coming up and people will want help studying." He expected her to protest about the rent, since they were still behind, but she didn't. "I'm going to clean up the bathroom and go to bed," she said, standing. "I'm exhausted and I volunteered for a double shift tomorrow." "What about the brat?" Donald demanded. "Don't expect me...." "I'll drop him off at my Mom's," Becky interjected. "I figured you'd be busy." "Damn straight," Donald muttered, sitting back. Maybe he'd sell the last of his text books - they might net him almost a hundred bucks. And Becky might make over a hundred more working that double shift tomorrow. All together he might get up enough for some grass in addition to the crank. And some more coke for himself. He roused himself enough to cut another line, then wandered into the kitchen for second beer. Becky was still working on the bathroom, he noticed. She liked it sterile in there. He channel surfed some more, then fell asleep on the couch oblivious to the infomercials that had started. Becky slid out of the bathroom, retrieved her suitcase and the baby's diaper bag from the closet, slid the money back into her coat pocket, took the baby and snuck out into the night. It would be over 20 hours before Donald would realize that she'd left him. ********** Having successfully slipped away from Cameron and the Brujah, Sasha was forced to walk home again. She'd only gone out with them in the first place to Feed, and hadn't even managed to get that done. She hated Hunting on her own. Most of the time she could get Cash or Julian, or occasionally even Lillie, to share their prey. Cameron had promised to get her something tonight - but then, after she'd agreed and left the Mansion, he'd put so many strings and conditions on her meal that she'd left him in disgust. Well, the Thirst wasn't that bad. Cash had shared a cute teenaged boy with her just two nights ago. And she'd had two rats last night. Killing rats didn't bother her, but they didn't fill her up either. Still, she wasn't going to go back to killing people's pets. Or back to killing people, either. She sighed as she turned the corner onto Fillmore and started up the hill. The Brujah were beginning to tease her about not Hunting anything but animals, and no matter how hard she tried to hold on to her temper, she always ended up fighting mad. They didn't understand that she couldn't control herself, that she needed someone there to make her stop before she killed her prey. Uncle Julian understood. When he took her to The Haven, he made her Hunt, then shadowed her to the backstage area to interrupt her Feeding. It made her nervous, taking a guy upstairs when she could see Julian sitting at his table, obviously not watching her, but he'd never let her down. Not yet, anyway. Of course, she always made sure that she picked great big men who wouldn't miss the blood she took, even if big men turned her off. She finally reached the Mansion and headed for the back gate. She'd rather not answer a bunch of questions from the Gangrel guards. She had a better chance of avoiding Lorraina in the back, too. That Gangrel bitch took every chance she could to bully and torment her. A lot of the time she was worse than the Brujah. The view from the rear of the Mansion was magnificent, and Sasha paused for a moment to gaze out at the Golden Gate and the mighty bridge that spanned it. What must it look like to a Toreador, she wondered. That Clan always claimed that the Embrace heightened their senses and gave them a greater appreciation of beauty than anyone else, living or Kindred. Sasha wished that she was Toreador. Hell, she wished that she were anything but Brujah. Of course no other Clan would have defied Julian to take her the way Martin had. The other Brujah Childer laughed about how great it was to be dead, but that wasn't how Sasha felt. Sasha felt... empty. Hollow. Numb. Everybody seemed to have a purpose, a mission, a goal of some sort. Everyone except her. Eddie had ordered Martin to Embrace her to hurt Julian, in the hope that it would provoke a Clan War. Now both Martin and Eddie were so much dust and Sasha was nothing more than a forgotten pawn, abandoned on the battlefield. Sasha sighed and turned away from the gorgeous panorama. She wasn't going to be a pawn any more. She would just have to find something to fill in the void where her life used to be. If only she could figure out what that something should be.... A cold autumn wind blew up the hill, and Sasha pulled her leather jacket closer around her. It was a mortal reflex left over from her warm days - she had no body heat to conserve and although the wind was chill, it couldn't hurt her. Nonetheless, she hustled towards the back gate eager to get out of the frosty air. It was trash night, and the plastic trash cans were lined up like little soldiers next to the entrance to the compound's wall. As Sasha passed them she heard a small sound from the one on the end. Her Thirst still bothered her. I hope it's a racoon, she thought, and not a rat. A great big, healthy, juicy racoon. She'd fed from racoons before. They weren't as good as humans, but they were okay as far as animals went. More filling than a rat, certainly, but she wasn't picky. Sasha wrenched the lid off of the can, her other hand poised to capture the escaping animal.... ....and stopped dead. It wasn't a rat or a racoon. It was a baby. She stood there dumbfounded and stared. The infant waved it's fists at her and blew a spit bubble, then yawned and closed it's eyes. Sasha put down the lid and scooped the baby out of the trash. It was laying on a quilted carry-sack with the words 'Diaper Bag' printed on it in swirly blue letters. Sasha picked that out too. "Where did you come from?" Sasha asked the baby. It just cooed and wrapped one hand in her hair. He wouldn't let go when she rested him on the lid of another one of the trash containers, so she gently pried his fingers apart. "Strong grip, kid." She undid the snaps on the romper and peeked into the diaper. It was a boy. He was also wet, but she found some disposable diapers in the bag and changed him. There was a bottle and some formula in the bag, a half-empty pack of baby wipes, a teething ring, a second romper, a dirty baby bib, a frayed blanket and a tiny teddy bear that had seen better days. No clue as to who the baby was, or how it had ended up in Uncle Julian's trash. "You are a mystery, Dude," Sasha informed the baby. He just sucked on his fingers and gurgled. She repacked the diaper bag and slung it over her shoulder. "What kind of monster throws a baby in the trash?" Sasha asked, lifting the baby in her arms. Anyone who would do such a thing had to be worse even than the Kindred. The baby looked around, fully awake now and discovered the full moon hanging over the Golden Gate Bridge. He was so cute, with big brown eyes and a head full of dark hair. It was adorable the way he reached out as if to grab the moon from the night sky. How could anyone give him up for a second, let alone just toss him away? "No answer, huh? Well, guess what? You've got a new Mommy now." The infant regarded her with grave surprise, then turned to stare at the moon again. The Nosferatu were always going on about Fate and Destiny, and while she normally avoided that gruesome bunch as if her existence depended on it, she had to admit that they might have something there. Maybe there was a reason she found the abandoned baby, instead of anyone else. Sasha kicked the gate until the Ventrue guard opened it. She gave him a bright smile, settled the baby's weight on her hip and went to find Uncle Julian. ********** "Well, of course you can reintroduce Camilla to the Clans as Hestia," Julian told Daedalus. "I simply don't understand why she wants to change her name. It's not as if she has ever taken part in the Masquerade." He turned to Camilla with a touch of alarm. "You don't intend to start walking among mortals, do you?" Her new appearance was certainly different from the one she wore when she returned to the city, but she still looked far from human. Julian wasn't certain that he believed Daedalus' explanation that Camilla's new face was a side effect of the alchemy that changed her eyes back from lizard green to human brown. "No," Camilla answered stiffly. "I have no intention of walking openly among the Kine. And it is my right to chose a name that suits my nature." "Hestia suits you better than Camilla now?" Julian's eyebrows rose. "Too many remember that Camilla was Goth's lover," Camilla (or Hestia, if she insisted) kept her eyes on the oriental carpet at her feet. "They remember that Goth sought to depose Daedalus, and murder you. I wish to put that behind me, but Kindred memories are long." "And Nosferatu memories are longer than most," Julian agreed. "But everyone will know it's still you, Camilla. You can change your name, but not your past." Camilla looked up, her brown eyes flashing with anger, but Daedalus rested his hand on her arm. "If you were to announce that she would henceforth be known as Hestia, and that no mention of Camilla was ever to be made, the Kindred of the city would see that you have forgiven her for her part in the taking of the human child and the events that followed." "Very well, Daedalus," he sighed. "Since you ask it. At the next Conclave I will...." Sasha kicked the door of his office open so hard that it banged against the bookcases. "Uncle Julian," she gushed. "You will never guess what I found!" She dropped the bundle she was carrying on his desk. Julian looked down into the face of a brown-eyed infant. It babbled at him. "Sasha!" Julian cried in alarm. "What have you done? Where are this child's parents?" "I have no clue," Sasha shrugged. "I found him in *our* trash cans. Can you believe that? Somebody threw their baby in the trash? And it's cold out tonight, Uncle Julian. It's a wonder he didn't freeze." She dropped her face down closer to the child's and played with it's fingers. "Isn't that right? Weren't you cold? Momma-Sasha's going to keep you snug and warm. Yes, she is." "We'll have to turn it over to the authorities immediately, Sasha," Julian said, reaching for the phone. Sasha slammed her hand over his. "We do not! I'm keeping him! He's my baby now." The infant started to wail, startled by her shout. "Now look what you've done," she glared at him, picking up the child and cradling it against her shoulder. "Sasha, be reasonable," Julian pleaded. "This is no place to raise a mortal child." "You are holding him wrong," Camilla told Sasha, reaching for the baby. Sasha held him away from the Nosferatu. "You stay away from him!" The baby cried louder. "Sasha," Julian said, gently extracting the child from her grip. "You and I are going to have to talk." He handed the squalling foundling to Camilla and grabbed Sasha by the arm. "No, wait..." Sasha protested as he dragged her into the library. "Uncle Julian! What if she eats him or sacrifices him or something?" "She won't hurt the child, Sasha," Julian assured her. "But you can not keep it." He closed the door on Camilla/Hestia soothing the whimpering infant and turned back to his niece. "It belongs with it's parents." "*It* is a he," Sasha corrected. "And his parents threw him in the garbage. He could have died, Uncle Julian. If I hadn't found him, he would have died. You have to let me keep him." "There are government agencies to deal with this sort of situation," Julian reminded her. "We will hand him over to one of them." "If you try to send him away I... I'll... I'll run away myself. And take him with me," Sasha swore. "Don't be a fool," Julian snapped. "You can't even feed yourself. How are you going to care for a human child?" "I hate you!" Sasha cried, bursting into tears. "I hate you, I hate you!" Julian's shoulders slumped and he pulled Sasha to his chest. Sasha was even more mercurial than most Brujah Childer. She tried to push him away even as she clung to him for comfort. "Sasha...." he sighed. "A baby needs a mother twenty-four hours a day. What are you going to do during the daylight hours when you are at your rest? He'll need food, milk, to have his diaper changed...." "I'll never have a baby," Sasha sobbed. "And it's all your fault!" That hurt, Julian reflected. The truth often did. "I'll have the Gangrel and the Nosferatu search the city for his parents," he offered. "They will discover why he was abandoned. Until then he may stay here with you." It was the wrong decision, and he knew it, but he'd do almost anything for his young descendant. "I can keep him?" Sasha raised her tear-stained face to his. "For the time being," Julian answered. "But there are conditions, Sasha. I want you to do something in return." "Oh, thank you, Uncle Julian!" Sasha threw her arms around his neck. "I promise you won't regret this." "I regret it already," he informed her. "First, I want you to promise to let him go if we find that his parents want him." "They threw him away," Sasha repeated. "Sasha," he threatened. "Promise, or I'll call the authorities right now." "I promise," she frowned. "But you can't possibly be serious about giving him back to abusive parents." "I won't return him to parents who will not care for him properly," Julian assured her. "Now I want you to do something for me. As long as you do what I tell you the child can stay. But if you start being disobedient, he goes. Do you understand?" "Yes, Uncle Julian," Sasha grinned. "I'll be good." "It's not your Uncle Julian who is asking, Sasha," Julian corrected. "It's your Prince. And I will hold you to this." Her smile faltered a little. "I'll do what you tell me," she promised. "For as long as you let me keep my baby." "Then here is what I want you to do," Julian guided her to the couch and sat down next to her. "Listen carefully." ********** Caitlin dismissed the rest of her reporters from the staff meeting and turned to Phil Silberman and Richard Reese. "You two don't look too happy," she observed. "Have you hit a dead end?" "Not exactly," Phil replied. "But I almost wish we had." Caitlin looked from Phil to Richard and then back. She spread her hands helplessly. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to play Twenty Questions?" Phil scratched his neck, looking helpless. "We hired a private investigator to follow this Cameron. We tried doing it ourselves, but the guy is paranoid as hell. We kept losing him. The PI loses him regularly too, but at least he stayed close enough to get some pictures...." "And?" Caitlin prompted. "And you're not going to like them," Richard said. He handed her a manila envelope. Caitlin extracted the 8-by-10's inside. "So this is Mr. Cameron," Caitlin said, looking at the first picture. "Good-looking, I guess, if you like the mafia-type. Who is this other man?" "Bodyguard, we think," Phil answered. "We've never seen Cameron without him. His name is Nicky." Caitlin turned to the second picture, then the third. They were just different shots of the same two men, sometimes with others, sometimes alone. "I don't see what...." Caitlin's voice trailed to nothing when she came to a picture of Cameron and Lillie. The club owner didn't look frightened or intimidated, merely annoyed. They were standing in the alley behind her club, the dark bulk of a car obscuring part of the picture. A second picture showed Lillie pointing a finger at Cameron. The photography wasn't very good - Lillie's eyes had caught the light and seemed to glow. In the third photograph, Julian was standing by Lillie's side. Cameron had his hands spread helplessly, as if trying to explain. Julian was holding on to Lillie's shoulder as if preventing her from attacking Cameron. In the fourth picture Julian was standing between Lillie and Cameron, looking as if he were trying to stop a fight. And in the fifth photograph.... "Oh my God," Caitlin breathed. "Yeah," Phil agreed, pursing his lips. "That's what I said." "Caitlin," Richard said. "If you want to kill the story now.... I mean, it may be a good idea." "Before the owner of the paper finds out we have positive proof linking him to organized crime," Phil clarified. Caitlin shuffled through the rest of the photographs, extracting the ones with Julian in them. There were only three more. She stared at the really incriminating one, the one where Cameron, looking furious and humiliated, was kissing Julian's hand. Once again the quality of the photograph wasn't good. Lillie looked as if she were smirking, and the light had caught Julian's eyes making them appear almost white. The car in the foreground, though, that was almost definitely Julian's limousine. "Can I get copies of these?" Caitlin held the pictures of Julian out to Richard. Her hand was barely shaking. That was good. "You can keep those," Richard replied. "We've got others." He sighed. "Look, Caitlin, I'm sorry...." "Don't be," she snapped. "It's okay." She tried to soften the expression on her face a little. "Really." She sighed and dropped the photos on her desk, then looked out at the golden afternoon. "Is there anything else?" "Isn't that enough?" Phil demanded. She had to smile. One day she'd look back at this moment and think - what? That she should have seen it coming? That the whole situation was ludicrous? Would she want to laugh or cry? Right now she desperately wanted to do both. "You want us to kill the story?" Richard asked gently. He had asked that before. She rubbed her temples in frustration. "No," she said. "Let's run with it." "You sure?" Phil asked. "Positive," she assured him, turning from her window and putting on her bravest smile. "Let's win us a Pulitzer." She could only meet their eyes for a moment before looking away. "Now if you guys don't mind, I've got work to do." They closed the door behind them as they left. Caitlin took her phone off of the hook and opened her bottom desk drawer. All the way in the back was file marked simply 'Julian'. All her research notes on the article she'd never written about him. And a brown paper bag with another collection of photographs. The photographs Frank Kohanek had given her. She pulled them out and compared them to the new ones on her desk. Julian and Cameron, Julian and the woman with the knife. Julian and Lillie, Julian crouching over the headless body. Someone had tried to kill him on her birthday. At least now she knew why. Julian and Cameron. Jesus, she thought. She'd been so stupid. She looked closer at the photo of Cameron kissing Julian's hand. There was something wrong with Julian's eyes. Usually that kind of defect only showed up on color film, and then only when the person was looking directly at the flash. Obviously whoever took these didn't use a flash, and the film was black-and-white. She found the one that showed Julian wrestling with the woman with the knife. His eyes were too pale in that one as well. It was almost as if his eyes had changed color, become a pale green, tinged with gold.... she vaguely remembered seeing Julian's eyes like that. Seeing them and being frightened.... She shook her head. Julian's eye color wasn't the important thing, she reprimanded herself. He'd acted so self-righteous when she showed him these pictures before. She'd actually fallen for it, believed him innocent of whatever vague suspicions she'd had. 'I'm not what you think I am,' he'd told her. Well, now she knew exactly what he was. She'd have to give her file to Phil and Richard, she realized. God, she'd gathered enough information to devote a whole article just to him. She could picture the headline: 'The Man Who Runs the City'. Between what she had in her file and the picture of him with Cameron there was enough to keep the FBI busy for years. He owned a bank, for crying out loud, and probably laundered his money through it regularly. She fumbled in her drawer for a tissue and wiped her eyes with it. When had she started crying? God damn Julian Luna. As usual she had fallen for a real winner. Not just a crook and a liar, but the chief crook and liar in the whole city. Maybe in the state. She pulled another tissue out of the box and held it over her eyes. She could practically hear her father's voice saying 'Gave in too easy, didn't you? No man respects a slut, Caitlin'. Of course not, right now she couldn't even respect herself. How could anyone else respect her? How she hated being weak, being stupid, being wrong. It felt as if a terrible force were crushing her. The burden of her shame. The weight of her reckless naivete. She laid her head down on top of the photographs and sobbed. ********** Cameron and Nicholas picked Sasha up at nine to take her to the Brujah Clan gathering. She had called Cameron and asked him for the ride. After the fight they'd had the last time she'd walked out on him she'd had to swallow a lot of her pride and practically beg to get him over. As Cash had gone out with Julian hours before, they came into the house. Nicky had never been inside the mansion and was enraptured by the opulence. "Nice place," Nicky said approvingly. "I bet you got a real coffin and everything." "She should move out," Cameron frowned. "You don't belong here, Sasha. All this crap is a trap - a gilded cage." Sasha looked at him carefully. No matter what he said to her, she had to hold her temper tonight. Too much was riding on her convincing him; she couldn't afford to blow it. "I would have thought you'd be the one insisting I stay here, Cameron," she started slowly. "Stay?" Her Primogen exclaimed. "Don't be a fool. You belong among your own kind, Sasha. Not mixed in with a bunch of Toreador and Nosferatu." "And Gangrel and Ventrue," Sasha continued. "This place can be like Grand Central Station some nights. Every Clan coming and going... except Brujah, of course." "What's your point?" Cameron demanded. "That every other Clan can enter the Prince's house any time they please," Sasha explained patiently. "Every other Primogen has haven right here, close to the Prince." "Right under his thumb," Cameron sneered. "The other Primogens don't have to wait until a Conclave to ask the Prince for something," Sasha retorted tartly. "And they are always close at hand so when Julian needs something they can volunteer. And you know how good Ventrue are at paying back favors. Or maybe you don't.... when was the last time that Julian felt he was in debt to the Brujah, Cameron?" Cameron scowled at her. "I figured you'd want me to stay here," Sasha smiled. "So that Brujah Clan had the same access to the Prince that every other Clan in the city has. I mean, Eddie Fiori never came here, did he? But as long as I live here, Julian can't keep you out." "You figured this out on your own," Cameron said disbelieving. "You - a little baby Fledgling who can't even Hunt, are trying to teach me how to play Prestation games." "Fine," Sasha snapped, letting her irritation show. "If you don't want my advice, don't take it. But I'm more than a Brujah Childe, Cameron. I'm a Luna. I may share your blood now, but I've been a part of Julian's family for eighteen years. I can't have helped but learned *some* things." Cameron caught her arm and pulled her against him. "Don't flash your temper at me, Sasha," he warned her. "And don't think you can play Ventrue games with me, either. I may take your advice, or I may not. I won't be a puppet-Primogen. Not for anyone." Sasha pressed herself against Cameron's chest and forced herself to smile. 'Puppet-Primogen' was too close for comfort. "I knew you were smarter than Eddie, Cameron," she practically purred. "He had me Embraced for the wrong reasons. But now that I *am* Brujah, you have a genuine Luna in your corner. And I think you'll know just how to gain maximum advantage of that." "What do you get out of this little girl?" Cameron asked. "You keep the Brujah off of my back," Sasha replied frankly. "No more teasing about my Hunting skills, or the prey I pick. No more jokes about my Embrace. And no more mention of Cash, either. *And* you help me Hunt once in a while." Cameron nodded slowly, obviously turning her offer over in his mind. "I told Julian once that I'd treat you like my own Fledgling," he said. "I would have, too, but you ran away from me." "I was scared," Sasha admitted. "I couldn't stop myself. But that has to be part of the deal too, Cameron. I won't kill. So don't try to make me." "Okay," Cameron replied. "I won't try to make you kill. I'll help you with your Hunting. I'll protect you from your Clan-mates and give you some status in the Clan. But I want more than just access to the Prince, Sasha. I want you to tell me what goes on around here, who talks to whom, what deals are being cut behind my back, the whole deal." "You want me to spy for you," Sasha laughed. "That's right," Cameron said. "And don't give me any garbage about how you'd never betray your Uncle Julian. You're Brujah and blood comes first." "No garbage, Cameron," Sasha smiled. "I'll be your spy." She had to laugh at the look of disbelief on his face. "Oh, I'm not going to do anything more than look around and maybe eavesdrop. I'm no Jane Bond. But I see no reason not to tell you stuff like.... oh, how Lillie sometimes slips into Daedalus' lair when she thinks no one is looking, for instance. Just don't expect me to follow her and find out what they're talking about." "Daedalus and Lillie?" Cameron's eyebrows rose. "I never would have thought of those two being in cahoots." "Maybe they just sit around and talk about art," Sasha commented caustically. "I don't care. But if it means something to you, my Primogen...." "Deal," Cameron said decisively. He held out his hand and Sasha took it. "I protect you. You give me access to the Prince and information on the other Primogens." "Excellent," Sasha grinned. "After the Clan Rant, you can take me Hunting to seal it properly." "Alright, little Fledgling," Cameron stroked her under the chin. "But no running away this time." "I don't think I'll need to," Sasha assured him. She smiled, nearly bursting with happiness. Let Cameron think her smile was for him or for the prospect of Hunting. She was going to keep the baby now, thanks to Cameron. He'd kill her if he ever found out the whole deal was Julian's idea, but then who was going to tell him? "I don't think I'll ever need to run away again." ********** For the first time in the eighteen months of his existence as a Kindred, Nicky was out on his own. He'd been separated from Cameron before, of course, sometimes for a whole night, but this was the first *job* his Sire had sent him to do alone. He was nearly bursting with pride and the determination to handle things perfectly. He'd even turned down the offer of an escort from Kenny. If he was going to do a job alone, he'd do it alone, without another Brujah's help. He'd show them he wasn't a Fledgling anymore. In time he'd be trusted to watch Cameron's back, to be one of his Sire's lieutenants. He couldn't think of anything better. It was an easy job, and Nicholas knew it. Nothing that any of the other Brujah couldn't have handled easily. But it still was an important job. Someone was cutting into the Brujah profits on the university campus. Bringing drugs into the city themselves instead of getting them through the channels that Cameron controlled. The drug market at the university showed a clean profit of nearly a million dollars every year, and Cameron didn't want to lose it. And he trusted Nicky with job of intimidating the dealer into changing suppliers. So Nicky pulled on to campus and parked his bike near the student union building. Two fraternity types got up off the steps and walked over to him. "I'm Richard, and this is Conrad," the blonder of the two said. "Nicholas," he answered. "So, where is he?" "Inside," Conrad answered. They walked inside. "His name is Don," Richard told him. "Donald Tate. He used to go to school here... " The frat boys slowed halfway across the floor, but Nicky strode confidently forward and straddled a chair next to Donald. His leather jeans creaked. "Hi, Don," Nicky grinned. "Can we talk?" "I'm talking, here," Donald nodded towards a skinny, pimply nerd and his skinny, pimply girl. Their eyes shifted nervously between Nicky and Don. "Um, I'll catch you later, Donald," the nerd said. The girl didn't say anything, just looked back over her shoulder as they made their hasty exit. Nicky grinned at her and licked his lips invitingly. He liked scaring the Warms. "You are costing me money, asshole," Donald said. "Whatever you want, it had better be good." "I want to make you a deal, Don," Nicholas responded cordially. "I want to become your wholesaler. And in return, I won't break your stupid neck." Don's jaw dropped. He stared at Nicky for a full minute with an amazed, half-amused expression on his face. It pissed Nicky off; Don was supposed to be scared. "Do you have any idea who you are talking to?" Donald asked, his voice dripping scorn. "My uncle is Julian Luna. You even think about touching me and they'll never find your corpse." Julian Luna? Nicky swallowed hard. It made no sense... except that the Prince was Ventrue, and Cameron said that Ventrue couldn't be trusted. According to his Sire, a Ventrue could shake your hand, pat you on the back and stab you in the heart at the same time. "Julian Luna?" Nicky repeated. "That's what I said, dip-shit," Don said sarcastically. "And as for changing wholesalers, why should I? I certainly don't need another layer of middle-men between me and my shipper." Nicky looked Donald Tate up and down. He did have dark hair, like the Prince and Sasha. His eyes were the same rich brown as Sasha's, his voice had the same intonations... "I work for Luna," Nicholas shook his head. It wasn't exactly true, and Cameron would have his tongue for putting it that way, but he was having a hard time with this. "I mean, I work for..." "I know who you work for," Don retorted. Nicholas swallowed the rest of what he was going to say. Donald Tate was still human, Nicky could hear his heart. It was beating calmly in his chest, not hammering away they way it should have been if he was afraid of Nicky. His smell carried none of the acid scent of prey; Donald exuded confidence, carried himself with an arrogance that was very much like that of the Prince. "This is Brujah territory," Nicky protested. "The Prince gave it to us. I will go to my Primogen and..." "Are you high?" Donald demanded. Nicholas' heart started to beat in panic. He had just broken the Masquerade! Spoke openly of things that only Kindred should know, in a crowded room where anyone could hear. If Donald hadn't interrupted him... Donald knew of the Masquerade, Nicholas realized. Luna must have told him. And if the Prince had told him about Kindred, then Donald must be ready to be Embraced. As Prince, Julian could make as many Progeny as he wanted. And if Julian was going to Embrace Donald and Donald was a drug dealer who wasn't afraid of invading Brujah territory... Things began to make sense in a very alarming way. Without another word to Donald Tate, Nicholas got to his feet and practically ran to his bike. He had to warn Cameron about what Julian was doing. ********** Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6 ********** "We need to name him," Sasha said to Cash. She was feeding her foundling the last of his formula. After he'd finished she'd put him in the dresser drawer that served as his temporary crib and go to the store to get some more. She'd need diapers too. "What do you think of calling him Julian?" "I think it's already being used," Cash commented. He was laying on the floor with his feet up on her bed playing idly with the Baby's teething ring. "Maybe Augustus," she suggested. "After my Grandpa." "And all the other little kids can call him 'Augie'," Cash grinned. She threw the empty formula container at him. "You are no help." She chewed her lip for a while, thinking. "I know," she grinned. "How about Stevie?" "Stevie?" Cash's eyebrows rose. "Why?" "After your Sire," Sasha smiled. "Stevie is a good name." The baby finished his bottle and was just sucking air. She carefully placed him over her shoulder and rubbed his back, waiting for him to burp. "But not Stevie Ray, okay? We'll name him Stephen Augustus, or Stephen Julian, something like that." Cash climbed slowly to his feet. "You'd do that? You'd name the kid after my Sire? You didn't even know him, Sasha." "Sure," she grinned. "The way you talk about him, I'm sure I'd like him. And it's not like you're going to tell me about your mortal family. Besides, I like the name." "I doubt if you would have liked Stevie," Cash grimaced. "And I'm sure he wouldn't have liked you. He hated Brujah. Lorraina's always throwing that in my face." "No wonder you two fight so much," Sasha grinned. "But I don't care. Stevie it is." The baby belched loudly. "Did he just throw up on me?" She turned to show Cash her back. "No," Cash laughed. "Are you really enjoying this? I would have thought that the diaper-changing and burping would have thrown you off by now." "Of course I'm enjoying this," Sasha retorted. "I'm bonding with my baby. And he's bonding with me, aren't you little Stephen?" The baby fussed and tugged at her hair. "Ugh! I just had a terrible thought. If you're Stevie's Daddy, that makes Lorraina his aunt. Talk about your wicked witches." "*I'm* his Daddy?" Cash protested. "Uhn-uhn, Sasha, leave me out. He's your kid." "Don't be a jerk," Sasha retorted. "He's a boy, he needs a father figure. You're it, Gangrel." "I'm outta here," Cash insisted, retreating towards the door. "If I wanted a kid, I'd Embrace someone." "Come back here," Sasha insisted. "Make me," Cash laughed. Sasha followed him out into the hall and threw the empty baby bottle at him. It caught him between the shoulder blades as he headed down the stairs. "One thing about you having a kid, Sasha," he called back at her. "It sure slows you down." "Bastard," she called at his retreating back. "I'm not going to name him Stevie, either!" She headed back to her room as the baby started crying. "Isn't that just like a man," Sasha said. "Thinking that a baby is a woman's responsibility." She bounced him a little in her arms, he usually giggled and squealed when she did that. Now he only cried harder. "Oh come on, don't start Sweetheart," she begged. "You gotta go to sleep so I can go get you formula and diapers." The baby screamed in protest. "Where is your damn pacifier?" Sasha looked around her room in dismay. It was nowhere to be seen in the wreckage of her bedroom. "I really should clean up this place," she frowned. She couldn't even locate the teething ring Cash had been playing with. Out of options she pushed her forefinger into the baby's mouth and let him suck on it. "Sasha," Uncle Julian stood in her doorway. "If you need help with the child, Camilla -er- Hestia, whatever her name is now, can help you." "A Nosferatu?" Sasha choked. "Uncle Julian, they're monsters!" "They are no more monstrous than you or I," Julian corrected. "Hestia had numerous children when she was a mortal. She even took in a few orphans and foundlings of her own. I can't think of another Kindred whom I would trust more with a human infant." Sasha made a face to let him know exactly what she thought of Nosferatu. The baby, discovering that her finger was not a food source, began to wail again. "Oh, jeez," Sasha muttered. "Wait, here, here, here." She bit down on the end of her finger and slid it back into the baby's mouth. Julian crossed the room and seized her arm before she even saw him move. "What do you think you are doing?" He demanded furiously. "It puts him right to sleep," Sasha protested. "You can't feed a human child Kindred blood, Sasha!" "He likes it!" Julian twisted her arm until she was standing. "That's it," he fumed. "Downstairs. Now!" "I don't see why you're being so mean," Sasha muttered, half hoping that Uncle Julian couldn't hear her over the baby's crying. It was hard going down the stairs holding the screaming child with one arm, and Julian practically dislocating her shoulder. "You are going to have some lessons in how to care for that child," Julian swore. "And Hestia is going to teach you." "No!" Sasha protested. "You can't make me!" "Then the baby leaves tonight, Sasha," Julian threatened. "Please, Uncle Julian," Sasha cried. "Not her. I don't like Nosferatu. They're sewer rats. She'll give him a disease or eat him or something." "Don't be obstinate," Julian retorted, pushing her into the library sofa. "She won't *eat* him." "They ate my Sire," Sasha pointed out. "They ate Martin." "Sasha," Julian sighed. "That was a unique case. I swear, she won't hurt the child. But you will harm him, maybe permanently, if you continue to feed him your blood." "He's out of formula," Sasha pouted. "He's probably still hungry." "I'll send Jeffrey out immediately," Julian promised. "Now stay here until I return with Hestia." He started to close the library door on her, then paused. "Sasha, I'm not going to lock you in. But if I regret that decision, *you* will regret it, too. Have I made myself clear?" "I'll stay here," Sasha sighed. "I promise." The door shut and she waited until he had definitely gone away before she threw a book at it. Then she rocked her crying baby, not noticing that she was crying too until the tears began to fall on his up-turned face. ********** Julian walked into Caitlin's office. It was long after full dark and only a handful of her staff remained at their desks. "What is so urgent?" He asked her. "You sounded upset on the phone." "Close the door," Caitlin snapped. She was evidently trying to appear calm, but she was betraying her anger in a thousand little ways. When Julian had closed the office door behind him, Caitlin threw a manila folder at him. Photographs fluttered out, littering the floor around his feet. "Explain this." Julian looked down at the photos. There was one of Cameron and Lillie laying against his left foot. He stooped to pick it up and saw a second photograph beneath it. Cameron kissing his ring outside The Haven. It must have been taken last night. Why had he insisted on that particular show of loyalty? "You had someone follow me?" Julian asked, straightening. He left the rest of the photos on the floor. He should be concerned about the Masquerade, but all he could think of was her. "I had someone follow Cameron," Caitlin corrected. "Surprise, surprise, he works for you. So much for your claims of being a 'legitimate' business man, Julian." She looked furious and hurt. "I can't believe I trusted you." Julian said nothing. There was nothing to say. He laid the pictures on her desk, put the manila folder on top of them. He didn't want to look at them any longer. "This is why you wanted me to kill this feature, isn't it?" Caitlin demanded. "Because you knew that if we dug deep enough, it would lead us back to you." He couldn't let her publish these articles. She might not realize what she had uncovered, but an enterprising vampire hunter would be able to draw the obvious conclusions simply from the fact that two men died with stakes through their hearts. He had to protect his people and the Masquerade. Somehow. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Caitlin's voice cracked. "What do you want me to say?" Julian asked gently. "Oh, God," Caitlin moaned. She stood and turned her back to him. He could see her reflection in the window; she looked ready to cry. "I'm going ahead with the story, Julian. Page One, Sunday Edition." "I can't let you do that, Caitlin," he told her softly. If he told the Conclave that she was too much in the public eye to be silenced, they wouldn't support him. He couldn't think of a single Primogen who would vote to let her live. "You can't stop me," Caitlin retorted. "Fire me, and I'll go to the nationals." "Is that a threat?" It was unreasonable to get angry at her, Julian told himself. But why did she have to be so stubborn when he was trying to protect her? "No, it's a promise," Caitlin replied bitterly. "You lied to me, Julian." "I was afraid of what would happen if you learned the truth," Julian replied. "You used me!" Caitlin spun around towards him in fury. "You bought the paper to control the media, and you promoted me because you knew you could control *me*." She rolled her tear-filled eyes to the ceiling and clenched her fists. "I can't believe I trusted you! I let you in, I fell in love with you, and you were just manipulating me to get what you wanted." "That is not true," Julian snapped. Caitlin gave a shaky laugh. "And it wasn't even sex that you wanted. It was good press. I don't know if I'm flattered or insulted." "Caitlin, I do love you," he insisted. "Then tell me: did you kill Eddie Fiori?" "You know I can't answer that." "Did you order him killed, or did you do it yourself?" "Who is asking?" Julian demanded, his own temper rising. "The editor of the San Francisco Times, or the woman I love?" Caitlin put a shaking hand over her mouth. "Oh, God. You did, didn't you? You killed him." A single tear rolled down her porcelain cheek. Julian repressed the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. She would find his arms anything but comforting now. Instead he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger until he had himself under better control. "I'm sorry, Caitlin, I shouldn't have shouted at you," Julian chose his words carefully. "Surely you understand that I don't want to incriminate myself." "Incriminate yourself," Caitlin repeated. "Would you believe me if I told you that I didn't kill Eddie Fiori?" Julian asked. "Or even had him killed?" "No," Caitlin whispered. "Then why should I protest my innocence?" Julian shook his head. "Whether you believe it or not, it is the truth." "The truth," Caitlin scoffed. "Do you even know what that word means? If you didn't kill Fiori, then who did?" "A lady of my acquaintance," Julian admitted reluctantly. "He had been pursuing her. I believe he may have been attempting to blackmail her into doing what he wanted." "How awfully convenient for you," she sneered, crossing her arms in front of her. Julian reflected that it was an extremely defensive gesture. "So, why didn't the police ever find Fiori's body?" "Because I didn't want her to go to jail. It wasn't self-defense, Caitlin. She stabbed him in the back." In fact, Lillie had decapitated Eddie, but he wasn't going to tell Caitlin that. "I disposed of his body so that no one would ever find it. And I had the scene cleaned so that the police wouldn't find anything." "And, since you are so interested," he continued. "Eddie's death has been anything but convenient for me." Caitlin made a derisive noise. "Are you taping this conversation?" Julian asked her. "Because I have just confessed to being an accessory to murder." "No!" Caitlin looked offended. "You assure me that this conversation goes no further than the walls of this room?" Julian insisted. "I don't mean to mistrust you, Caitlin. But I wouldn't like to send myself to jail." "I suppose that it's only fair that you don't trust me," she said, coldly. "I certainly don't trust you any more." Julian licked his lips, determined to convince her of the truth. Or at least the small part of the truth that he could reveal to her. He would only use his vampiric powers to persuade her as a last resort, to save her life. "I inherited a business, Caitlin," he began slowly. "A business that has been in my family since the mid-nineteenth century. There are some aspects that I find distasteful, and which I have chosen to not be involved in. My," Sire, he almost said. My Sire, Archon. "Father... had also tried to absent himself the less savory portions of the family business. He was not successful." That was an understatement. Archon's actions had helped precipitate the bloody Clan war that had decimated the Kindred in San Francisco. Julian had destroyed a great many of his own kind during those long bad years. He didn't want to bring them back. "I do not think I will ever be able to completely wash myself clean of my associations," he continued. "Not in this lifetime. But if I can grant future generations of Lunas a less disreputable history, I will." That was a neat way of saying that his next journey through the Masquerade would not be plagued with questions about his underworld contacts. And it wasn't exactly a lie. "Eddie had assumed the management of the segments of the business I wished to be free of. I won't say that I liked him, because I didn't. I won't claim to have trusted him, either. But his death has left a vacuum in the power structure. And there are people who are willing to kill a great number of other people to take his position." "And have you had anyone killed?" Caitlin asked. "I've...." Julian considered the best way to explain. "Withdrawn my protection from some of the men who have been killed. I allowed it to be known that they betrayed me, attacked me. They hoped to eliminate me as a potential rival, and they feared I would become involved if their... unsavory actions were discovered. I did so knowing that it was a virtual death warrant. The men who were found in Fiori's office were killed because it was assumed I would be pleased by the slaughter, and that I would reward the murderers accordingly." "Have you rewarded them?" Caitlin asked. "You are obviously protecting them. You aren't going to turn them over to the police." "No," Julian replied. "I haven't rewarded them. And I can't turn them over to the police without endangering myself. But I've taken steps to see that it never happens again." "And your relationship to this Cameron person?" Caitlin prompted. "He is the most likely contender for Eddie's position," Julian told her. "He's asked for my support, and I've given it to him. That will influence others to support him, as well. Once it becomes obvious that Eddie Fiori has been replaced, things will return to normal, and all this fighting will stop." "So you are trying to stop all the mob violence in the city?" Caitlin raised one perfect eyebrow. "Of course," Julian replied. "I'm not being philanthropic, Caitlin. If I don't, it's only a matter of time before someone else targets me. I don't want my loved ones getting hurt." And that included her. "Now please tell me that you are not going to complete this series of articles." "I think about it," she replied. "Caitlin...." "I think you should leave now, Julian." She wouldn't even look at his face. Finally he turned and walked out of the building, feeling as if he had left some part of himself, the better part, behind. ********** "Red wine, please, Mario," Julian said to Lillie's bartender. The Haven was in full swing tonight, and he was tempted to leave, but he knew he'd feel even more miserable if he was alone. If only Archon hadn't been extinguished, Julian thought. His Sire knew him better than anyone ever had. Archon could have eased the despair Julian felt. Archon had certainly seen this problem coming and had tried to dissuade Julian from pursuing Caitlin from the beginning. But there had been an air of resignation about his arguments, as if he knew that he couldn't control Julian any longer. Archon had never been able to control him when it came to women, Julian remembered with a frown. He had joked about it, long before he stepped aside as Prince. Julian was going to have to kill Caitlin. He couldn't see any way around it. He sipped the wine and looked around at the happy mortal crowd. They laughed and danced with each other, exuding enjoyment like sweat. Did they have any idea of the predators that moved among them? He should Hunt, he thought, even if he had no appetite. Distract himself for a while. Perhaps he'd find some women, get them drunk. It had been a long time since he'd gotten intoxicated.... Cameron sat down next to him. "Nicky had an odd little encounter with a relative of yours," he said without preamble. "What has Sasha done now, Cameron?" Julian sighed. He couldn't even have an hour where his duties did not intrude on him. "Not her, a nephew of yours," Cameron grinned. "Or at least he claimed to be your nephew. His name is Donald Tate, and he deals drugs." "I know," Julian said. Damn the foolish boy. "He says you are the supplier," Cameron's smile was like ice. "Are you cutting me out, Julian?" "No, I am not cutting you out, Cameron," Julian snapped. "And I am not supplying drugs to Donald, either. Which you would know if you have half of Eddie's network of informants working for you." "He told me that you specifically gave him the Berkeley territory," Cameron was trying not to be defensive. And failing, Julian noticed. Well, at least I annoy him as much as he annoys me. "And you believed him?" Julian asked. "No," Cameron snarled. "Of course not." Cameron was lying, and Julian was tempted to call him on it. But it wouldn't do his reputation any good to get into a duel with Cameron in public. Especially in The Haven, where he had forbidden Kindred to fight. "I am aware of what he's doing," Julian said as diplomatically as he could. "And I have told him to stop. Since he hasn't listened, you'll have to... encourage... him to find a new way of supporting himself. Be gentle, Cameron. He is still my blood, and I don't want him harmed." "You could stop him," Cameron pointed out. "You could have him arrested." Julian smiled acidly. "And have him tell that fairy tale about me to the police? I don't think so. Donald never was a brave boy, he'd do anything, sell out anyone, to save his own skin." "No doubt his Luna blood has been too diluted over the generations," Cameron sympathized. "Cameron," Julian warned. "What you know about my family could be written on the head of a pin with room left over. Please don't display your ignorance so boldly." "Fine. I'll take his territory," Cameron almost snarled. "Steal his stock. Discourage his steady customers from buying." "Fine, excellent, whatever," Julian answered. "I leave it in your hands." "Julian," Cameron inclined his head as he rose. "Cameron," Julian said before the Brujah could leave. "Be gentle. If I find his blood on your hands...." "I understand," Cameron grimaced. He turned on his heel and strode away. Lorraina arrived two minutes later and plopped down next to him in the booth. "We should have brought the Mercedes, that Limo is a bastard to park around here." "Go get it," Julian ordered, pushing his wine glass away. "I'm leaving." "But you just got here!" The Gangrel protested. "Why, thank you, Lorraina, for pointing that out to me." He instantly regretted his sarcastic tone. It wasn't her fault his evening was a disaster. But Lorraina was already on her feet, trying to act as polite and formal as a Ventrue. "I'll bring the car around immediately, sir," she half-bowed before stalking out of the club. He had a headache, Julian realized as he watched her take the stairs two at a time. And where else was he going to go? Home to Sasha and her infant? Daedalus would be with Hestia, so he couldn't go there. Lillie would be preparing for Frank Kohanek's arrival, and he didn't want to deal with the mortal cop. At least not tonight. Julian wasn't even sure he wanted to deal with Lillie, if she had been free. He got up and walked towards the stairs, so wrapped up in gloom that he didn't notice the little man in the Hawaiian shirt that followed him out the door. ********** After consulting with Hestia, Sasha decided to call the baby 'Junior' until she could decide between her three current favorite names. Hestia also decided that a dresser drawer lined with towels was inadequate as a crib, and took Sasha up into the mansion's attic in search of a replacement. Jeffrey agreed to look after Junior while the women were occupied, and Cash decided to accompany them to 'help'. "Why would Uncle Julian have a crib in his attic?" Sasha demanded as they climbed the narrow flight of stairs to the fourth floor. "I mean, that makes no sense." "During the Clan War, Archon had many of the Ventrue move into this house, abandoning their former homes," the Nosferatu explained. "Julian sold the Old House, and moved everything here, including the contents of his attic. I doubt if he has sorted through it since." "That still doesn't explain why he had a crib," Cash pointed out. "Until he repudiated his son, Julian shared his home with his mortal descendants," Hestia replied. "His grandchildren were married and some had children when he sent them all away. He permitted them to take nothing with them when they left. Even the toys were left behind." "I didn't know that," Cash commented. The door at the top of the stairs was locked, and the mechanism was stiff from disuse. It took him some time to force the key to work. The hinges squealed in protest. He flipped on the electric light and stepped into the crowded space. As Hestia had promised, the attic was packed. Discolored sheets draped over mounds of boxes and pieces of long-forgotten furniture. In some places the piles reached the low roof. Dozens of frames were hung from the walls, each covered by it's own protective shroud. The smell of dust and long abandonment hung in the still, cool air. "Why would Uncle Julian do that?" Sasha asked. "Why would he throw his family out on the street? I mean, he's always been so nice to us." Hestia regarded her with a flat stare. "He hated his son. I do not know exactly why. But there was a great deal of bad blood between them. And the dislike he had for his own child has grown until he now despises all children." "Oh, come on," Cash protested. "He saved that baby from Goth, and let Eric's kids stay here." "And he sent them away the moment their father was destroyed," Hestia reminded him. "As for the infant, his rescue was secondary to his desire to destroy Goth." Sasha made a face. Her own interpretation of those events cast Julian in a more favorable light. Hestia nodded at her expression. "He wants you to send Junior away. I have known Julian for over a century, Childe. Believe me when I say that he despises mortal children." "If you say so," Sasha frowned. She didn't want to get into a fight with the Nosferatu, especially since Julian was intent on enforcing Hestia as Junior's nursemaid. "Ventrue are even more deceptive than Toreador," Hestia commented, winding her way through the clutter. "They certainly can disguise their feelings more easily. Julian appears to tolerate what he must, but when the opportunity presents itself, he strikes quickly and viciously." "Is that what happened back in.... whenever?" Sasha asked. "In 1934," Hestia said. She had found a group of oval picture frames leaning against a crate and was sorting through them. "His son had given Julian two grandsons. When the younger boy married, Julian coveted the bride. Ah, here." She lifted a family portrait, it showed a seated man surround by eleven children. "This is Augustus Octavio," she pointed to one youth with the tip of her claw. "And this child is Philip Marius, whom Julian murdered so that he may have his way with Philip's wife." It was stiffly posed, in the style of the turn of the century, and no one in the photograph was smiling. "I thought we were up here to find a crib," Cash interrupted. "Not to insult the Prince." "I'm interested," Sasha insisted, taking the antique photograph from Hestia. "Are there any other photos of my Grandpa around?" The Nosferatu smiled, revealing her fangs. "Perhaps," she said enigmatically. "I'm sure we will find a great many unexpected things as we search." "Search is over," Cash said flatly. "Here is a crib." He had uncovered a pile of furniture and found a disassembled cradle of dark walnut. "Not that one," Hestia barely glanced at it. "Why not?" Cash demanded, obviously annoyed. "He'll outgrow it in a few months," Hestia explained. "I know there is another one up here. Of blonde oak, with a canopy...." "Oh, cool," Sasha breathed. "When I was little I begged and begged for a canopy bed." "I have found it," Hestia announced, folding her long hands together possessively. The crib was stacked with other matching furniture. There were two dressers, a youth bed and a scaled-down armoire. "What a pretty rocking chair!" Sasha exclaimed, pulling it from the pile. "I love all this stuff." "It's not going to fit into your room, Sasha," Cash explained. "Then we shall make the room across the hall into a nursery," Hestia replied. "The Prince will not mind one less guest room, especially since he so rarely entertains. And Junior would be much less of a burden to Sasha there. Not to mention that it would be a more... healthful... environment for him." "Yeah," Sasha sighed, looking faintly embarrassed. "Well, I've been meaning to clean up my room. I just never get to it." "Then it is decided," Hestia smiled. "Let us move quickly, before the child awakens." ********** Cassandra had risen early so that she could make a series of telephone calls before business closed for the evening. Then she had gone over Julian's books carefully, making certain that all was in order. She took her duties as his secretary very seriously. It was nearly midnight before she remembered that she hadn't fed. She twisted her long blonde hair up into a loose bun and secured it with a few pins from her dressing table before leaving her room to search for Jeffrey. Julian's butler often delayed Hunting until just before dawn, and would probably be willing to accompany her on her search for prey. If he wouldn't, she'd have to catch a taxi and join Julian at The Haven. Although Cassandra normally loved to visit with Lillie, she had been avoiding the Toreador Primogen since Julian had begun his relationship with Caitlin. She hated being caught between conflicting loyalties. Lillie was her best friend, but Julian was her Sire. Cassandra's life had been so much easier when the two had been lovers. Well, they would be lovers again, Cassandra consoled herself. They never stayed apart for very long; so far their longest break had barely lasted eight years. Decades ago Julian had told her that after a while Lillie left him feeling jaded, and he needed the time away from her to refresh his interest. Cassandra hadn't told him that Lillie was of the opinion that Julian wasn't quite man enough to be able to handle her for extended periods of time. There was a thump from one of the guest rooms at the end of the hall, and Cassandra assumed that it was Jeffrey or one of his staff. She walked into the room and froze in stunned disbelief. "What do you think you are doing?" She demanded. Cash, Sasha and Camilla looked up at her in surprise. "We're going to make this Junior's nursery," Sasha sounded annoyed. "You have a problem with that?" Cassandra looked at the guest room furniture disassembled and piled against the wall, then looked at the blonde oak nursery set that was being set up. "Where did you find this furniture?" She challenged. "And who gave you permission to use it?" The pictures she'd painted so many decades ago were piled against the dresser. She knelt down next to the cheerful watercolors and felt like sobbing. "It was up in the attic," Cash told her diplomatically. "We didn't know it belonged to you, or we would have asked. If you want...." "Yes, you did," Cassandra snapped. "*She* did. This is your doing, isn't it, Camilla?" "My name is Hestia now," the Nosferatu corrected. "Still the same old Camilla," Cassandra sneered. "Hiding in corners and making trouble. Digging up the past in hopes of tripping her betters with the bones of old heartaches." "How dare you call yourself my 'better', you round-heeled little tramp," Hestia hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits. Cash stepped between them. "No fighting in the house," he said firmly. "You two want to have a duel, you do it outside. I'll get some Gangrel as witnesses to the outcome." "You should have died with your demented lover," Cassandra glared, trying to step around Cash and get at her tormentor. "And you should have died with Philip," Hestia retorted. "You keep his name out of your filthy mouth, Nosferatu!" Cassandra cried passionately. "You aren't good enough to wipe my husband's boots!" "Enough!" Julian barked from the doorway, and everyone in the small room swivelled to stare at him. "I will thank you, Hestia, not to torment my Childe while you are a guest under my roof. Or you will not remain under my roof, or in my city. Do I make myself clear?" "She started it," Hestia muttered. "She is angry because the infant needs furniture, and we...." "Why *did* you chose this particular nursery set?" Julian asked. Hestia swallowed before answering. "I knew it had never been used...." "And you know why!" Cassandra practically screamed. "How could you just drag it all out...." "Cassandra!" Julian's shout cut her tirade off like a knife. She clapped her hands over her mouth and looked at him. She knew she had to apologize, but was terrified she'd start crying. She's rather die than let Camilla see her cry. Jeffrey was standing behind Julian. He gestured at her and Cassandra walked into his comforting arms. The hallway was crowded with curious Kindred summoned by the raised voices. Cassandra wanted to sink into the earth. Julian extracted his wallet and removed the sheaf of bills inside. "Cash," he instructed. "Take Sasha somewhere and let her buy new furniture for the baby. I'll have Jeffrey replace these things in the attic." "Sure," Cash took the money from Julian and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. "Come on, Sasha." "Everything will be closed already," Sasha protested. "We'll just have to let Junior sleep in his drawer for one more day." She smiled ingratiatingly at Julian. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. I'll help put this stuff back." Julian looked at his niece flatly for almost a full minute before sighing "Very well." He turned to leave the room and all the Kindred standing in the hall suddenly seemed to recollect what they had been doing and hustled off to return to it. "Hestia, I want all these things replaced exactly where they were found. Cassandra, please come to the study." Cassandra followed him reluctantly, grateful to Jeffrey for the comforting arm around her shoulders. ********** "She never liked me," Cassandra began the moment that the door to his study closed. "She's always goaded me...." "Cassandra," Julian interrupted. "I don't care. No more excuses. And no more arguments with Hestia." "But Sire!" Cassandra whined. "She started it." "I don't care!" Julian repeated. "You aren't a Childe, Cassandra, stop acting like one. I expect a little more dignity from my get." Cassandra's head hung down with shame. "Yes, Sire," she almost whimpered. "Julian," Jeffrey said gently. "Don't be so hard on her." "Jeffrey, I thought I asked you to put that furniture away," Julian snapped. "It can wait," Jeffrey insisted. "I know you don't like this kind of dissention under your roof, but you can't blame this squabble entirely on Cassandra." "You saw less of this argument than I did," Julian pointed out. "Neither of us can say for certain who started it." He sat in his office chair and rubbed his temples. "She did," Cassandra whispered. "There has always been bad blood between Camilla..." "Hestia," Julian corrected. "Hestia and Cassandra," Jeffrey corrected himself. "Ever since you Embraced Cassandra." "So you are saying this is my fault," Julian sighed. "For having Hestia stay here to care for Sasha's infant." "I would never say such a thing, my Prince," Jeffrey bowed but couldn't hide the small smile that played on his lips. "Cassandra, you are dismissed," Julian waved his Childe out of his office. "Just avoid her, if she bothers you so much. I don't want any more fighting." "Yes, Sire," Cassandra backed meekly out of the room and shut the door behind her. "Now she'll run to her room and sob into her pillow for the rest of the night," Julian observed crossly. He started to rise but Jeffrey moved behind him and pressed him back into the chair. "What is really wrong, Julian?" Jeffrey demanded. "You've been like a lion with a thorn in his paw for nights now. And you are wound up like a watch spring." "I could never hide anything from you," Julian smiled. "You are worse than Archon, sometimes." "Our Sire made me for you, Julian," Jeffrey reminded him. He began to massage Julian's shoulders. "The only reason I was Embraced was to help you. But I can't do that unless you let me." Julian sighed as his Brood-brother sank strong fingers into the tense muscles of his neck. "I didn't need Cassandra to get hysterical tonight," he admitted. "I should have seen it coming though - I knew it would happen when I invited Donald over." "She saw him?' Jeffrey asked. Julian nodded and Jeffrey sighed. "Cassandra isn't like you, Julian. She doesn't want to see her descendants." "Donald is her grandson," Julian insisted. "I can understand why she abandoned her daughter; I certainly never had a very good relationship with my son, John. But family..." "That is the understatement of the century," Jeffrey muttered. "John hated you with a rare passion." When he felt Julian's shoulders shake he continued. "Good, I've made you laugh." He tilted Julian's head up so that the Prince was looking at him. "Let Cassandra be, Julian. Stop trying to re-unite her with her family. It only gives her pain." "They are my family, too," Julian retorted. "You can see them," Jeffrey said. "But don't force them on her. They remind her of things she would rather forget. Things I think you would also rather forget." He slapped Julian on the shoulder and stepped back. "I'll move that furniture now." "Jeffrey," Julian stopped his Brood-brother before he opened the door. "You and Cassandra are...." "Just friends, Julian," the tall Ventrue assured him. "A Coterie of two. We have a lot in common. She was Embraced by you and raised by Archon, I was Embraced by Archon and raised by you. We are the same age, know the same things, have the same loyalties.... That's all." "Before you put that furniture away," Julian said. "Would you go to her? Tell her I'm not angry. I didn't mean to yell." "Yes, sir," Jeffrey smiled. Julian buried his head in his hands after Jeffrey left the office. Perhaps he should tell his Brood-brother about Caitlin and that damned article she was working on. It would be so nice to have someone to talk to.... He sighed again and forced himself to go upstairs to talk to Hestia. He heard Sasha's voice first. "Cassandra? She's the one that Uncle Julian killed his grandson for?" The young Brujah said in disbelief. "Cassandra is Uncle Julian's Granddaughter-in-law?" Julian winced. Not that old story again.... "Hestia," he said when he reached the doorway. "Perhaps I was mistaken to allow you to care for Sasha's foundling. You seem to think that spreading slander and scandal are part of your duties, and I find that unacceptable." "The Childe just asked...." Hestia replied. She pulled herself erect and faced him with some dignity. "I was only telling Sasha what I know and answering the questions she asked me. I didn't realize that would offend you." "I don't want any further discussion of the matter," Julian told her firmly. "Have I made myself clear?" "Of course, my Prince," she bowed, but that familiar smile was on her lips. The one that said she had found a useful piece of information for trade, or possibly for blackmail. "If I hear anything further, from anyone," Julian continued resolutely. "I'll have to ask you to leave." He didn't say from where he would ask her to leave, his home or the city, but the Nosferatu woman paled anyway. She was terrified of being cast out. What had happened to her after she and Goth had been banished that would have frightened her so? He pushed the matter out of his mind. She had always been fairly timid, and he had other things to worry about. "Uncle Julian?" Sasha followed him when he left the room. "Did those things really happen? I mean, you didn't really kill your own grandson, did you?" Julian looked down at her sweet face. It would be so easy to lie to her. She didn't want to believe Hestia's story, that much was obvious. He could bury the dead, forget it had ever happened.... "Come into my room," he told her instead. She sat on his bed while he opened the wall safe and extracted the faded scrapbook from the bottom. "Archon kept this," he told her. "I didn't even know he had it until after Cameron... until after he was destroyed. It wasn't like him to keep mementoes of the past, and this was the last thing that I would have thought any of us would want to be reminded of." Julian sat down next to his twice-great-granddaughter and placed the heavy book in her lap. "But it makes sense to me in a way," he continued. "This is the worst mistake I ever made. And it became very public. Archon could have kept this so that he could remind me just how important the Masquerade is to us." He smiled grimly at the memory. "As if I could ever forget." Sasha looked confused. "You endangered the Masquerade?" Julian opened the scrapbook to the first newspaper clipping. "Back in 1933, right after Prohibition was repealed," he began. "I still had daily contact with my son and his family. Everyone thought I was a distant cousin, except for John, my son; he knew that I was his father. He knew that I was Kindred, and that I never aged. I thought I could trust him to keep the secret. And for many years, he did...." ********** Sasha twisted herself into a more comfortable position on the living room couch and turned back to the front of the scrap book. There was a picture of Philip Luna pasted there. Her great-uncle, her Grandpa's brother. What had Grandpa thought about his brother's murder, she wondered. Unlike his father, John, Augustus had never turned his back on Julian. John, she marveled, Grandpa's father, Julian's son. She never really felt it before, that the man she had known all her life as 'Uncle Julian' was really her great-great-grandfather. She had known it in her head, but not in her heart. Now that the truth had sunk in it made her feel weird. Had Augustus felt as strongly about Julian as Sasha felt for her Grandpa? She had loved him more than any person in the whole world. No, she *still* loved him more than any person in the whole world. Poor Grandpa. What had it been like for him, the three years of hell that was laid out in the newspaper clippings and faded letters of this scrap book? Sasha only dimly remembered crying at the death of her parents. She'd always figured that she was lucky that it happened when she was so young. But Grandpa had been in his mid-twenties when his younger brother was killed. He had known Philip, played with him, worked with him all his life. If Augustus had never turned his back on Julian, then neither did he turn his back on his own father. When John had moved the family out of the city, Grandpa Augustus had gone with him like a dutiful son. Hestia had that part of the story wrong at least - John had left Julian's house and everything in it. Julian hadn't sent him away. Somehow that made Sasha feel a little better. Julian had been quite open about the way his son hated him. John knew that Julian was Kindred, and never forgave his father for being a 'vampire'. Julian had tried to explain that he didn't kill his prey, but John hadn't believed him. Probably because he knew about some of the people Julian did kill at Archon's orders. According to Julian, John had tolerated Julian's secret for years, until he thought that his own son had fallen to Julian's terrible Thirst. And then he tried to throw the Masquerade wide open. Tiny fingers of fear played with Sasha's spine. She could imagine all too clearly what the result would have been if Julian hadn't convinced John not to speak about vampires. Open war between human and Kindred, with her family, her Grandpa Augustus, as the first victims of the inevitable slaughter. What John *had* said about Julian and his friends was bad enough. Sasha didn't want to read those editorials again. How could anyone be so filled with that kind of hate? How could Julian have killed his own grandson? That was the one question she had asked that Julian wouldn't answer. He had just looked at her sadly and said 'sometimes people do terrible things, even to the ones they love', and wouldn't say any more. Sasha turned to the end of the scrap book where Julian's 'obituary' was pasted. It had a picture of him, taken at the trial for Philip's murder. Julian looked the way he always did: proud, aloof, removed from the people that surrounded him. The headline read 'Julian Luna, notorious criminal, dead at 57'. Archon had made him give up his life, Julian had told her, give up his Masquerade and remain in seclusion from mortal society for over twenty years. Julian had said that he was lucky that his 'correction' wasn't more severe. As it was, it had taken Archon over two decades to decide on the appropriate punishment for Julian's crime, and during those long years, Julian had lived as an outcast in the city, avoided by most Kindred. Archon had even prevented him from seeing his own Childer. Upstairs Junior started crying. Sasha didn't want to think about Uncle Julian or Philip Luna's murder or anything else anymore. It was making her depressed. She shoved the scrap book off of her lap and went upstairs to play with her baby. ********** Every time that Caitlin thought she had finished with her crying, the tears came back. The silliest things triggered them. A bottle of wine, a hair ribbon, some earrings. Things Julian had given her, things Julian had touched. She took off from work early and cleaned her house resolutely from top to bottom. Everything that was his went into a cardboard box. Everything that reminded her of him went into the trash. The telescope he gave her for her birthday? Into the box. The sheets on her bed? Trash. The spare shirt he had tucked into her closet? Box. Her best wine glasses? Trash. Caitlin knew she was being irrational, and didn't care. What did it matter if she was destroying her things? Julian had destroyed her heart and nothing could compare to that pain. Pine-Sol and disinfectant couldn't erase him from her memory, but she'd be damned if she let him stay anywhere else in her life. It was after eleven before she'd finished. She loaded the boxes into her car, took the trash out to the curb and drove, for the last time, over the bridge and to the house on Fillmore Street. She didn't give a damn how late it was. Julian rarely went to bed before dawn, and she hadn't been getting any sleep herself recently. One way or another she was going to get this over with tonight. Jeffrey opened the door as she was climbing the stairs. "Miss Byrne," he exclaimed, rushing to meet her. "We weren't expecting you tonight. May I carry that for you?" "There is more in the trunk, Jeffrey," she replied, elbowing past him. Behind her the butler signaled to some of the guards to carry the other box into the house. "Mr. Luna isn't in at the moment," Jeffrey explained as she marched through the front hall. "I've just come to return some of his things," Caitlin told him. She pushed the living room door open with her foot and walked over to the couch were she simply dropped the heavy box. She clapped imaginary dust off of her hands and squared her shoulders. That was done with.... "Is there something wrong, Ma'am?" Jeffrey inquired gently. "Something I can help you with?" Caitlin's foot brushed something as she turned to face him. She looked down to see what she had caught her heel on and saw an open scrap book. It looked very old. The yellowed headline was upside-down, but she could read it clearly. 'Julian Luna, notorious criminal, dead at 57'. It was dated March 1958. "Miss Byrne?" Jeffrey repeated. Caitlin looked him straight in the eyes and licked her lips. "Julian probably already knows this," she said to Jeffrey. "But would you mind telling him that I never want to see him again?" Jeffrey looked surprised. She almost thought he was going to protest, to ask her why she was breaking up with Julian. But he recovered himself and gave her a little bow. "I'll inform Mr. Luna as soon as he returns." ********** Becky wasn't at Smokey Joe's or Gilliftey's or The White Horse Cafe. She'd lied about her double shift; she'd quit her job at T.G.I.Friday's almost a week before she left him. None of his friends had seen her, and none of her friends would talk to him. He even called Becky's mom, but she hung up the phone the minute she recognized Donald's voice. He'd been angry the first two or three days, more pissed at her than he'd ever been. He'd vowed to beat her black and blue this time, then to break her God-damned legs for walking out on him. Then he'd gotten worried. Worried about her, and worried about himself. He needed her, damn it. He missed her, too. He even missed that little brat of hers - of theirs, he corrected himself. It always upset her when he said that Donny was her kid and not his. That line about the abortion - well, it was true, but that was what had probably made her pack her bags and go. When he found her, he'd tell her how sorry he was. How he really loved her and the kid and wanted them back. How he hadn't really meant it about the abortion. If only she'd come back he'd be so much better. He'd take it easy on the drugs and the booze, take her out more, and never hit her again. She'd forgive him. She'd come back to him. She always had before. But he couldn't find her. She wasn't in any of the places that they used to go to together, back when they were both in school. So he tried hitting the places where she might be working. He looked in all the joints on Divisidero Street, without any luck, so far. Nobody had seen her. He was in a little club called the Haven when he saw Sasha. His cousin was dancing with a man he didn't recognize, and if she got any closer to her partner, she would be behind him. Donald frowned and looked around the place, but Uncle Julian was nowhere to be seen. He shook his head, Sasha had such a great situation and she had to risk it by being with other guys. What a brat. He walked over to the bar and signaled to the bartender. Like most of the other places, he was reluctant to answer any questions until Donald had bought a drink, and Don was running low on cash. Unexpectedly Sasha came up behind him, clapped him on the back and said "It's okay, Mario. This is my cousin Donald." Suddenly the guy was willing to answer all of his questions. Yeah, he recognized Becky's picture. She had come in a couple of weeks ago, looking for a waitressing job. But they didn't have any full-time openings, so she'd gone elsewhere. At least, Donald thought, Becky hadn't fallen off the face of the earth. "So what drags you into the fleshpots, cuz?" Sasha demanded when the bartender had moved away. She pulled him away from the bar, exchanging glares with a bleached blonde in a leather jacket, and led him to a quiet corner. "I was going to ask you the same question, Sasha," Donald answered as Sasha pushed him into a seat at one of the tables. "Does Uncle Julian know about that guy you were dancing with?" "Uncle Julian," Sasha grimaced with distaste. "Insisted that I go out with 'that guy' tonight." "Why?" Donald frowned. "Because if I'm really, really nice to him, Cameron - that's his name," Sasha scowled. "If I'm really nice to him, Cameron might be a little bit more cooperative with Uncle Julian. And that's what Uncle Julian wants." She sighed and looked around the bar. "It could be worse," she muttered. "At least he hasn't wanted to take me back to his place...." "Uncle Julian wouldn't want you to go that far, would he?" Donald exclaimed. Sasha gave him a withering look and didn't answer. "He actually tells you to sleep with other guys?" "Still think I've got it so great, Donald?" Sasha sneered. "Believe me, I've paid for everything I've gotten. Paid in blood. And I'll keep on paying.... Probably forever. I'd trade places with you in a second. At least you've got a future." "If it's so bad," Donald said. "Why don't you just get out? I know you've got a trust fund. It's not like you'll be hurting." "I'd be hurting alright," she laughed bitterly. "If I ever tried to leave Uncle Julian, I'll be hurting for sure. I've tried, Donald. I didn't last a week. It's far, far too late for me to get out now." "And it's not like I have anywhere I can go," she continued, idly drawing her finger through the condensation-rings on the table. "Who else would have me? At least Uncle Julian can protect me...." "From what?" Donald asked. "Myself," she sighed. She looked away for a moment, her eyes sad. "Hey, baby-girl," a voice said before Donald could think of anything to say to comfort his cousin. "Who's your friend?" Donald looked up into the cold eyes of the man Sasha had been dancing with. Cameron, he reminded himself. Something in Cameron's eyes made Donald want to shiver. They were the emptiest eyes he had ever seen, the eyes of a man with no soul. "I brought you a beer," Cameron continued, putting the mug in front of her. He snared a chair from another table and sat down. "Thanks, Cammie," Sasha's smile looked almost genuine. "You're a dream. This is my cousin, Donald Tate. Don, this is Cameron." Cameron's eyes and face got impossibly colder when Sasha said Don's name. The smile he favored Donald with could have frozen water. "Pleased to meet you," Cameron purred. "It's always a delight to encounter another member of the Luna clan." Sasha took a long pull off of her beer, downing more than half of it before slapping the mug back on the table. She turned her head and belched. "Now that hit the spot," she sighed. "Dainty little bitch, ain't she?" Cameron observed. "So what brings you into The Haven, Donald?" "Just looking for someone," Donald shrugged. "But she's not here, so I think I'll be going...." "But you just got here," Cameron protested. "Oh, Cammie," Sasha sighed. "Let him go. I want to get out of here, too. Why don't you take me somewhere we can get a bite? I've got a sudden appetite for something ethnic." Cameron chuckled and stood, offering Sasha his arm. "Was she always this spoiled?" "Yeah," Donald agreed, rising himself. "It was good running into you, Sasha. Take care of yourself." "Yeah, sure," she smiled, her eyes still sad. "You too." ********** It was first full evening she'd spent with Cameron that she hadn't walked out on, Sasha realized as he dropped her off at the mansion. The thought made her start laughing, and the quizzical look on Cameron's face only made her laugh harder. After a minute, she could see that he was beginning to get annoyed, but it was too late to stop. "I was... just... wondering," she gasped between giggles. "If I was... supposed to... kiss... you... goodbye...." "Only if your boyfriend can see us," Cameron grimaced. Sasha screamed with laughter at the picture it made in her mind. After a minute she saw Cameron's shoulders start to shake too, as he tried to repress his mirth. "Get out of my car, you silly witch," he said. "And stop laughing before Julian starts to ask questions about what I've let you drink tonight." "I'm sorry, Cammie," she chortled, fumbling with the car door. "And don't call me that," he tried to sound severe and failed. "At least not where anyone can hear you." She got the door open and stepped out. She pressed a finger over her lips. "It'll be our secret." "Good rest, Sasha," he wished her, smiling. "Good day, my Primogen," she called back. She stood on the step and watched him pull out of the drive, unable to wipe the grin off of her face. Lorraina glared at her, and Sasha gave her a pleasant wave in response. It actually hadn't been a bad night, she reflected as she climbed the steps back into the house. They'd gone dancing, met with some of the other Brujah, then broken into the natural history museum and looked at the exhibits for a couple of hours. Cameron had even supplied her dinner. And now she was home a whole hour before dawn so she could play with Junior and put him to bed before going to her own rest with a full stomach and an easy mind. This deal that Uncle Julian had forced her to make wasn't going to be that bad at all. "Hestia," she called, climbing the stairs to her room. "I'm home." "She went out to Hunt," Cash called from the nursery. "We expected you home hours ago. You always come home early when you go out with the Brujah." Sasha stuck her head in the door of the nursery and looked curiously at Cash. He was laying on his back with his legs in the air. Junior was balanced on his knee, giggling as Cash bounced him up and down. "I actually had a good time tonight. What are you doing here?" "I work here, remember?" Cash grinned. "I meant in the nursery," Sasha corrected. She lifted Junior off of Cash's shin and gave him a hug. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with my baby." "He's kinda cute," Cash admitted with a grin. "I was giving him a horsey ride. Can I interest you in one?" Sasha laughed. "Maybe after I put him to bed. I missed him." Junior tangled his hand in her hair and gave a tug. "Oww!" Sasha exclaimed. "Yes, I did miss you. I even missed you pulling my hair, you rotten brat." Cash held Junior while Sasha untangled his hand from her curls. "Does he need to be changed?" She asked. "Nah," Cash bounced Junior a little in his arms. "I just got done giving him his bath. He's all clean and ready for bed. All he needs is a bottle." Sasha lifted her eyebrows at him. "*You* gave him a bath?" "Yeah," he admitted. "I'm not totally helpless. I know which end the diaper goes on." "I'm stunned and amazed," Sasha admitted. "Don't be," Cash told her. "When I was Warm I had to watch my baby brothers and sisters all the time. I hated it. But I learned how to take care of human children." "Now, I'd didn't even know you had brothers and sisters," Sasha said, taking Junior again. She walked downstairs towards the kitchen, Cash trailing her. "Did you have a whole bunch? I always wanted a big family." "That's because you were an only child," Cash informed her. "Yeah, it was a pretty big family, if you think six kids are a 'whole bunch'." "Were you the oldest?" Sasha demanded. "How many brothers did you have? How many sisters? Tell me everything." "Second oldest," Cash said. "One older sister, three younger sisters and one younger brother. Only me and my next youngest sister had the same dad." "Oh," Sasha said, stopping in front of the refrigerator. "I hope I wasn't prying." "You were," Cash nodded. "It's okay. I don't think about them much. I left home when I was thirteen and never wanted to go back. I thought I'd bum around for a couple of years, then try to enlist. Instead I met Stevie Ray and the rest is history." "I had a sister too," Sasha confessed. "Well, almost. My mom was pregnant before the car accident. They delivered her right there at the wreck while they were still cutting me out of the car. She rode in the ambulance with me to the hospital, but she died a couple of days later. I don't think that Uncle Julian knows that I remember." Cash put his arms around her and Junior. "Then you aren't an only child," he said. Sasha closed her eyes and let him rock her gently for a few moments. "C'mon," he said finally. "Let's get Junior his bottle before he starts to cry, then get him into bed. I want to give you that horsey ride." He pinched her bottom sharply. "Pervert," Sasha laughed. "Not in front of the baby. He's at an important developmental stage and you may scar him for life." "Sasha," Cash said seriously. "He's being raised by Kindred. He's going to grow up twisted, accept it." "Well, maybe with you for a father-figure...." Sasha teased. "That'll be the only thread that holds him to reality," Cash insisted. "I can see it now, you'll take the poor kid to kindergarten on your motorcycle, and he'll be dressed in black leather. All the other little kids will be afraid to play with him...." "I will not," Sasha laughed. "I'll get a Volvo, like all the other mothers and wear little flower prints and keep my hair in a pony-tail." "Oh, good," Cash said. "That alone should make the other Brujah in the city want to jump off of the Golden Gate Bridge." The microwave beeped and Sasha took Junior's bottle from it. "Don't be an idiot," she retorted. "You'll have to wear a suit jacket on parent-teacher nights and promise not to teach him to howl at the moon." "Only if you don't teach him how to rob convenience stores," Cash challenged. "Well, he has to have a career," Sasha laughed. She ducked under the mock punch that Cash threw at her and scrambled up the back stairs. "Can't catch me, Gangrel!" Cash followed her, laughing. ********** "Oh, damn," Lillie slammed down the phone and leapt out of bed. She slipped into a silk kimono and a darted into her bathroom. "Oh damn, oh damn." "What the hell...?" Frank called after her, starting to rise himself. "Honey, what's the matter?" "Stay here," Lillie begged him, emerging from the bathroom with a towel in her hands. "And be quiet, Frank, please?" "Why?" "For me, Honey, please?" Lillie smiled ingratiatingly. "Pretend you're not even here." She ran into her office without waiting for his answer. "Lillie?" Caitlin's voice echo up the stairs. Frank slumped back into bed. Well, it was a better reason than some to interrupt his time with Lillie, he guessed. Although, considering the Toreador's aborted attempt to blackmail Caitlin, he supposed he should get out of bed and do something to protect the human woman. "In here, Caitlin," Lillie's voice rang out cheerily. "Come on up." "Oh," Caitlin sounded like she was in the office, now. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you...." "You didn't interrupt me," Lillie laughed. "I was talking to some customers downstairs and backed right into one of the waitresses. I ended up with Bloody Mary all over my dress and Pina Colada in my hair." Caitlin's strained laugh joined Lillie's breathless chuckle. "I was just changing. You're never a bother. What can I do for you?" "Well, I was doing some research in the newspaper library," Caitlin explained. "And I came across some old clippings about Julian's family. I was wondering if you knew anything about them, or even what relation these people were to Julian." "Oh, Julian won't be happy to have you rattling the skeletons in the family closet," Lillie warned. Frank slipped out of the bed and searched around in the dimness of the bedroom for his clothes. Lillie wouldn't be too happy, either. Frank didn't want her to try anything rash. "Well, Julian's happiness isn't my first priority right now," Caitlin responded cryptically. There was the sound of papers shuffling. Frank located another of Lillie's kimonos and slipped it on. "I saw this picture first, and knew he had to be related to Julian somehow. What is he - Julian's grandfather? Great-Grandfather?" "Grandfather," Lillie responded. "Julian was named after him. Caitlin, I'm serious about...." "So am I," Caitlin sighed. "I know how private Julian is, Lillie. But I have to know more about him, about his family. You don't know how important this is." There was a long pause, and Frank was tempted to give up his search for his pants, and his gun, to peek through the door at the two women. He didn't want Lillie to hurt Caitlin. He have to try to stop her if she tried anything. "I'll tell you whatever I can," Lillie finally agreed. "But it's not much." "Well, I was able to find quite a bit in the paper's library and in the old public record," Caitlin admitted. "I just couldn't tie this Julian to my Julian. Our Julian," she corrected herself. "This guy sounds like a real bastard. He killed his cousin so that he could sleep with the cousin's wife, and apparently ran every kind of vice racket in the city. He pleaded 'nolo contendere' to the murder charge, was sentenced to life and sent to Alcatraz." "But he got out after only two years," Lillie objected. "Or, at least, that's the way I heard it. The real murderers confessed." "Two men confessed to the murder," Caitlin agreed. "But years later, after Luna died, the surviving man recanted and said that Luna's 'business associates' had paid their families half a million dollars each for the two of them to take the fall." "Oh," Lillie said. "But that's not the juicy part," Caitlin continued. "This Julian lived with his uncle and a bunch of his cousins. While this Julian was in jail for killing one of his cousins, Julian's wife *and* the murdered man's wife moved out of the family home and in with his *mistress*. The three of them lived together until he was released from prison." "Sounds cozy," Lillie observed. "His wife was named Alexandra, the girlfriend was Cassandra Luna, and the mistress," there was the sound of more papers being shuffled. "Was named Emily Britain. There are literally dozens of editorials written by a John Luna, apparently he was the uncle, about the 'life of sin, vice and degradation that Julian Luna has brought to these three women.' But he also goes on to call them 'seductresses of the highest order; succubuses who exist only to steal the life from their male victims.'" Frank realized he was straining to hear every word. "He sounds confused to me," Lillie replied. "My question is: this Julian Luna has no recorded children. I could find his death certificate, but no will was ever probated. I mean, this guy even looks like Julian, he's obviously related, but how did *our* Julian ever get to inherit his stuff, when I can't find evidence that *this* Julian ever had children?" Here it comes, Frank winced. "Well," Lillie lowered her voice so that Frank could barely hear her. "I don't know this for a fact, but I'll tell you what I've heard. But you can't tell Julian you heard it from me." "I promise," Caitlin replied. "*This* Julian never did have any children with his wife," Lillie confirmed. "But he had a son, James, with the girlfriend Cassandra, and a girl with his mistress, Emily. Supposedly he was very proud of the two children." "Well, the two children were raised together," Lillie continued. "They had private tutors, the best nannies, and were hardly allowed out of their father's mansion. Naturally they became very, very close. But by the time anyone realized just how close they were, it was too late. Well, when Julian's grandfather found out his only daughter was pregnant, he threw his son out of the house without a penny, and sent the girl to England, so she'd never see her brother again. And that's where Julian was born." "Are you telling me that Julian's parents were...." Caitlin gasped. "Like I said," Lillie replied. "I don't know for sure. But my mother knew the old Mr. Luna really well, and that's what she told me." "Oh," Caitlin whispered. "Oh... my." "So that is one reason I always respected Julian's privacy," Lillie said. "I know he'd just die if anyone found out about his parents. And with his two children disgraced, Old Mr. Luna showered everything on Julian. Julian adored him, and did just about anything for him." "That certainly explains things, doesn't it?" Caitlin sounded dazed by her new 'knowledge'. Frank didn't know whether to burst out laughing or strangle Lillie. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Caitlin?" Lillie asked sweetly. "Did Julian ever refer to his grandfather as his father?" Caitlin asked. "Why, yes," Lillie actually managed to sound surprised. Frank clapped his hand over his mouth and bit his tongue - hard. "But he's avoiding talking about both his father and his grandfather since the old man died." "What happened to Julian's real father?" Caitlin pressed. "What did you say his name was? James?" "I have no idea," Lillie replied. "But I'm sure he's dead now, or he would have tried to contact Julian. Like I said, this is all hearsay and rumor." "Thanks, Lillie," Caitlin said. "You're wonderful. Can I call you if I think of any more questions?" "Sure," Lillie answered. "But I think I've told you everything." Frank heard the outer office door close and opened the bedroom door. Lillie was alone, and leaning against the closed door as if it were the only thing keeping her on her feet. "*You*," Frank told her. "Are a piece of work, Lillie. Or do you prefer to be called Emily?" "You shouldn't eavesdrop," Lillie replied, pushing herself upright. "And you shouldn't tell lies," Frank countered. "I can't believe you convinced Caitlin Byrne that Julian is the bastard child of incestuous parents!" "Well," Lillie pulled the towel off of her hair. "I had to tell her something. She was getting far too close to the truth. And since she thinks that she's found what Julian wants to hide, she won't dig any further. Hopefully." "And it was too good an opportunity to stick it to Julian, wasn't it?" Frank teased. "Oh, Julian has a great sense of humor," Lillie smiled back. "I'm sure he'll get a chuckle out of it." "You're going to tell him?" Frank's mouth dropped open. "Of course I'm going to tell him," Lillie retorted. "What if Caitlin asks him about it? Besides, I have to warn him that she's found out about those years he spent in Alcatraz. Believe me Frank, he'll appreciate all I've done for him." "Well, at least I can comfort myself with the knowledge that Julian has spent some hard prison time for murder," Frank mused. He let Lillie lead him back into the bedroom. "Yeah," Lillie smiled as she climbed back onto the bed. "But that time he was innocent, Frank. He went to prison for a murder he didn't commit." ********** With the ancient is wisdom; and in length of days understanding. Job 12:12. ********** The phone rang and Donald's first impulse was to ignore it. But by the time it had shrilled five times he realized it might be a customer, and, damn, did he need the money. So he pushed