Time: Continuing from "Night at the Chantry", very early Thursday morning, Oct. 31. Warning: Dark doings ahead! The "help" that Cameron asks of Thorne Severan ain't exactly the kind of "help" he gets from him. Remember that Kindred justice is harsh... even when mixed with erotic tension...
After informing Ecco, Selsor and Del that he would be out of the chantry for a couple hours - they were understandably unhappy - Thorne left alone, taking to the air in his golden eagle form to traverse the Bay to the Brujah stronghold in the warehouse district near the docks. To his surprise, a bald eagle landed moments after him, before he'd changed. [And what are you doing here?]
[You're too important to go out without backup,] the other magus retorted. The two magus looked deep into each other's eyes. Understanding passed between them... then gratitude. "You must be invisible and no one must scent you," Thorne murmured as he resumed his form.
The other complied, silently vanishing upon applying a spell. He would be present, but undetectable. Thorne shapeshifted as well, taking on the form of Charlie Wing, Cameron's second who had been identified by another Tremere at the Haven moments ago. Through that magus's blood link with Thorne, he could inform his regnant immediately if Wing should leave.
Cameron, moments later, frowned at a rather insistent knock on his office door. "Come in," he called, a hand slipping beneath the edge of his desktop where there was not only an alarm button, but also a phosphorous gun.
"Charlie Wing" entered the office and closed the door behind him. He locked the door.
The Brujah primogen already had the gun in hand. "Thought it was your night off, Charlie," he said guardedly, his senses alert. But this was no Brujah! Cameron could scent that. The gun was leveled at the other as he stood up. "I'm not as ill-prepared as you thought me..."
Then the air shimmered and Thorne Severan stood before him. The magus glanced at the gun with a sigh, then seated himself before the desk. "Put that away, Cam," he said quietly.
Shocked, Cameron dropped the gun on the desk. "Tremere! Or should I say, 'Assamite'?" Nervously he picked up the gun again, sure that he'd been betrayed to the assassin shapeshifters.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Cam," Thorne sighed. "It's just magick. To further ease your mind, I will tell you that it's been... assured... that no one saw Charlie Wing here just now, not any more. I have a man watching him at the Haven to be sure. I didn't think many had that easy of access to you."
"Shit, Severan," Cameron snapped back, shaken. "You could have warned me."
Thorne eyed the gun again, but it didn't concern him much. His reflexes had gotten him out of worse danger than a phosphorous gun in the hand of a desperate Brujah primogen. "And you wouldn't have minded my voice in your head? The prince did, the first time I did that. Now I always ask first..."
Cameron saw the gun in his hand suddenly, then replaced it in its holster affixed to the underside of the desk. "Sorry. By the way, it's good you came here. I personally inspect this office for bugs every time I come into it. We're secure."
But the Tremere was rising out of his chair. His sense of hearing was far more acute than was usual for Kindred. Walking slowly around the room, he listened...
The Brujah watched, curious. "What?"
"Shhh..." Thorne listened. He moved slowly around the room, then paused at a bookcase. He bent down and picked up a book from the bottom shelf.
"That's mine," Cam offered with a smirk. "Very good, Tremere. Actually I have a state-of-the-art system for detection of listening devices."
Thorne did not reply except to remove the miniature recorder from the innards of the book and crush it under his heel. "I will not be recorded," he added as Cameron gaped in stunned silence.
"Okay, ah... sure..." The Brujah scrambled to get his composure back. "I understand, Tremere."
The magus whipped his head around to glare at him. "Do you? You greet me with a gun and a recording device. And you want to strike a deal with me? You need my help? I hold Clan Brujah in contempt, but you... there might be a fragment of you to salvage. I don't know. I'm inclined to leave, Brujah. Will you give me a reason to stay? Or a reason to rid the world of you?" A faint glimmer of violet-silver issued from his eyes.
"I am a clan primogen," Cameron replied in a shaky voice, his eyes also silvering briefly. Then his expression changed. "I need your help, Tremere, I have to trust you. I am willing to... negotiate... I can supply funding for your research, give you whatever assurances you require of me."
Thorne approached the desk close enough that he was effectively looking down at the Brujah primogen. "We have no need for funding. What we and all the Camarilla in San Francisco need is peace between the clans. That's not going to happen, is it?"
To his surprise, a wash of weariness went through the Brujah's face. Cameron moved out from behind his desk, approaching him. "Brujah are born in hatred, live in chaos, die in rage," he sighed. He leaned on the edge of his desk, just a couple feet from the wizard. "I cannot change our nature. Once we were the rebels, the free-thinkers, the risk-takers of the Kindred world. But - at least here on the West Coast - we seem to have become thugs and petty criminals, feeding the rage in our hearts like our lives depended on it."
"Are you a criminal, Cameron?" Thorne asked, frowning. [I could be wrong,] he ruminated, watching the other's face, [but this man seems on the brink of... something. Like either an awakening or... suicide. And if this Brujah chooses suicide, he's likely to try to take as many with him as possible... Brujah or not.]
Cameron's eyes narrowed, but he kept his emotions in check. "No. My businesses are all legitimate. I cannot see risking the wrath of mortals by being so foolish as to walk on the wrong side. The problem is that Eddie Fiori looked the other way... frequently... and never made any attempt to rein in his own clansmen when they broke the law, or the Masquerade, or even Embraced or killed mortals. He ruled by not dirtying his hands in *anything*. And his clansmen reveled in their dangerous freedom. It made them feel powerful, to defy the Masquerade and dance on the edge of danger. Now, however, they get no encouragement from me." He made a rude noise of derision. "I rule by mutual contempt, Severan. And constant surveillance of my *back*. Also, it doesn't help matters at all that Cyrus is just a few hundred miles away..."
"And what exactly do you need *me* for, then, Cameron? What am I to your clan troubles?" Thorne edged closer. He knew exactly what Cameron needed him for, but Cam was going to have to ask for it... specifically.
"I need..." Cameron paused, closing his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. It wasn't only the embarrassment of asking a wizard for help that made this so hard. It was that he basically feared this Kindred. Then he made himself look up into those intriguing violet eyes. "I cannot trust my own clansmen. I cannot be sure of any of them. Igen had five accomplices, five who carry Fiori's and Cyrus's blood in their veins and I do not know who they are. If I ask my own security personnel to find them, I cannot expect they will. There were only two of my own bloodline here in the city, and... and they have gone back to Manzanita. If I ask for help from those I learned to rule from in Chicago, they will consider it a foothold here, flood the city with their own." Unconsciously he edged closer as well. "I need an ally, Tremere, and I am willing to do an awful lot to win one."
Thorne raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curving up. "Oh?" This was getting interesting, finally. "Like what?"
Cameron felt the power in the other primogen, felt the call to danger in himself, felt nearly as reckless as when he'd first entered the city to kill Archon in reparation for the Manzanita massacre. "Like this," he said roughly. His hands went to Thorne's waist and unfastened his belt. Then in the matter of a handful of seconds, the primogen of the Brujah Clan was on his knees before the primogen of the Tremere Clan, sucking avidly on his cock.
While Thorne had entertained idle fantasies of this happening, he hadn't expected Cam to actually resort to this... and it was well apparent that the Manzanita Brujah had done this sort of thing... many times before. In Chicago? With his sire, certainly - there was no stretch of the imagination there to figure that they'd been lovers, not with the grief still in Cameron's heart at the loss. Though the Tremere felt like crowing at his triumph over the Brujah, he knew he would not... something *was* going on here, more than this Brujah's apparent submission to him. [I was right... either Cameron's actually developing 'principles' or he is close to suicide. Still too soon to tell, but this could be immensely useful. I owe it to Julian to see what can be done here...] Then he tensed at a particularly effective action from the Brujah's tongue. [Damn, and he's actually *good* at this...]
Cameron felt like he had dived right into a black hole, setting himself on a course from which there was no return, not now. [I don't care if he chains me up and makes me his private fuck-slave on Sunday nights. If this works, I might actually get to live, continue to be primogen even...] Cameron, having considered that his back was well against the proverbial wall, knew he had little choice. [Suck or die, that's me,] he sighed and even began to enjoy himself.
[Good, little bitch Brujah,] Thorne thought, threading his fingers through the perfectly groomed coiffure, still tempted to use this fool for his own twisted pleasure. [You have no idea the... payments... I can exact for my help, you bastard,] he thought, but sighed when the voice of reason spoke up again. [Neutralizing the Brujah would be a coup that would put me permanently into Julian's very good graces... oh, shit, this is good...] To his dismay another voice came up, that of his own sire, no less: [You can make a difference, Tenisor. *You* have the power, my power, to change the clan, the Kindred. Be that angel of cleansing...]
[Shit. You *would* say something like that, Tremere. Thanks.]
Cameron slid his hands around to Thorne's ass, cupping his cheeks as he held onto him. When the wizard began to rock his hips, effectively fucking his mouth, Cam felt himself harden as well, and settled into the rhythm the other set, giving him the power. He managed not to pause when Thorne grabbed his hair tighter, plunging deeper into his throat, though he was getting a pretty good pummeling.
Outside, still invisibly standing guard in the warehouse, Ecco could not help but open up his link with his Regent a little in order to share his pleasure. [My love, I don't know how you managed this, but...]
Though panting, Thorne wasn't too far gone not to respond. [A little private matter between us... but, beloved, there's a little hope here... we might actually have an opportunity to help the Brujah stabilize. I would be crazy to pass up an opportunity like this... besides, he's actually very good...] A smirk accompanied his mental caress.
Ecco, safe within his spell of Cloak of Transparency, moved silently down corridors, mentally mapping the Brujah headquarters and reading the few Brujah he came across. Having listened in on the conversation between the two primogen at Thorne's invitation, he'd already begun to search for the renegades. But his survey would discover more. They had to find out exactly who might support Cameron in his hopes for his own clan.
[I think Cameron will need to schedule a regular 'private time' weekly with me when he cannot be disturbed,] Thorne related to his clansman. [Find anything?]
[They are a restless bunch... none of them can possibly sleep well,] Ecco observed, standing outside the living quarters of some of Cam's "inner circle". As the sun was close to rising, several had already retired for the day. [They're worried about Cameron. I think... I think there's a general fear he will do something... drastic. NOT what he's doing to you.]
Thorne did not answer right away. He was close to coming. He had a brutal grip on the other's head, giving himself over to powerful thrusts down the man's throat. Cameron had yielded himself to the fucking beautifully, in fact Thorne guessed he was actually enjoying himself.
Ecco smirked, then decided to tease his lover a little. [Now, if that was the *prince* doing that...]
The Regent came, gasping, clutching Cam's head hard as he shot his load down the other's throat. [And you called *me* a tease?] Thorne retorted to his second. [But you could be right about the Brujah. Cameron is either evolving or... there's a good chance he could suicide, if his despair grows greater. I fear he would take some of his clansmen with him.]
[Then you are going to help him...] The thought was accompanied by a mental caress.
[For the sake of the Camarilla, Ecco, my love,] Thorne replied, still shuddering. [I still hate the clan.]
A moment later, Thorne stepped back, withdrawing his cock from Cameron's throat and mouth. To his credit, the Brujah licked the head clean before yielding it, then wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand before rising to his feet again with a smooth grace that Thorne had to admire. [The man isn't above sucking cock to get what he needs,] the magus thought to himself, [but he still does it with style and grace. He should have been Ventrue...]
Cameron pulled out a comb from somewhere and in a couple slick passes, restored the coiffure somewhat. He straightened his tie and clothes, then, recovering his composure completely, he looked up at Thorne. "Now, Tremere," he said quietly, "let's make a deal..."
Thorne had himself restored as well, though he could not keep a smirk off his face as he zipped up and met the other's gaze. "You're going to go further in my debt, Brujah... I hope you don't mind..."
Cam felt his dick harden again. "I suppose servicing you could become... pleasant..."
[You little cock-teaser...] "You have no idea... Of course it depends on what you call 'pleasant'... and for whom."
[Shit.] "Don't push me too far..."
Thorne's eyes grew steely. "Let me finish. Fortunately for you, I get more pleasure from consensual... activities than nonconsensual. I am not unreasonable."
Cameron was dismayed to realize that while the pit had fallen out of his stomach, his cock was still hard. "So to get you to assist me, I must place myself in submission to you. The collar, bondage, the whole thing?"
The Tremere neared and ran fingertips along the lapel of Cam's suitcoat. "If you wish. I would like you to devote two hours a week to my... indulgences. The nature of what takes place in that time is negotiable. While I do have a fondness for ball gags, hog-tying, and knives, I would not insist we go that route. Many sensual endeavors give me pleasure, Cameron. And of course I would require you to ensure that your Brujah do not interfere with my Tremere. That goes without saying."
The Brujah primogen straightened. Smoothly he removed Thorne's hand from him - respectfully, not with disdain. "I will give you two hours a week. We can... negotiate on that later. Unfortunately I cannot ensure my clansmen's cooperation for the very reason I need your help. But I will severely punish any who do interfere with your people."
"And Gangrel. For that matter, any other clans."
Cameron rolled his eyes. "Severan..."
"You will know soon enough who you can trust. When we do find the rebels, what will you do with them?"
"The five who were Igen's accomplices... their lives are forfeit," Cameron replied. He was starting to relax, now that they were really talking. "Anyone else who is entertaining notions of stirring up trouble within the clan or the city... will be asked to leave, subject to final death if they do not comply."
Thorne lifted his hand again to finger Cameron's silk tie. "Your clansmen must not know Clan Tremere is investigating them. You will conduct 'interviews' which you will explain will be secretly observed by professionals you have hired. That is all they need to know. As soon as we discover who is the most loyal to you, promote them to high positions surrounding you. They will cushion any unrest caused by the 'investigation'. Are there any here of your bloodline?"
Cameron did not move Thorne's hand away this time. "Two, but they have returned to Manzanita. I can persuade them to return, I think."
"Do it. Any others you know of whom Sorrel sired?"
The other blanched - [He knows who my sire is!] "Ah, I will have to locate them. Two that I can think of."
"Do you have any childer?"
"No."
"Hmmm," Thorne pondered, his fingertips moving up to touch Cameron's cheek, a possessive gesture. "Too bad. We could ask Julian if you could Embrace at least one mortal. You need to strengthen your bloodline now that Sorrel's gone. Considering that Julian himself was instrumental, if innocent in knowledge, in decimating your bloodline, he may agree." He looked into the Brujah's eyes, which were wide in a kind of gray fog. The man was soaking up his every word. "When you came into the city, Cam, you were pulling together rival bloodlines right and left, trying to unite them under the righteous indignation of the Manzanita massacre. But you've got Cyrus down the coast from you, and besides being Fiori's sire, he's also prince of LA and very powerful. To maintain your own Brujah clan here, you must rid yourself of that influence. Julian would certainly back your desire to keep Cyrus well out of his city."
Cameron sagged a little under his touch. "You're going to tell Luna all of this, aren't you?" Defeat was in his voice.
The touch became a caress. "Cameron, Julian Luna is our prince. I know he would want to help... and possibly reward... the efforts of any of his primogen who want to increase the stability of the Kindred community in this city, as well as strengthen the Masquerade. And I mean you, not me."
If not for the physical touch of the other, Cameron's will might have crumpled in the face of this unexpected turn. Despair was still so close... "But he killed my sire..."
"And you killed his," Thorne finished gently. "Time to set that aside, Brujah."
The gray eyes bored into his. "I loved Sorrel, Severan... I loved him and he sent me away to learn how to replace the Ventrue Prince in San Francisco. I have failed him terribly..."
Thorne persisted, seeing how close the other was to the edge of sanity. "Listen to me, Cameron! Sorrel and Archon engaged in a personal vendetta that dragged you all into it. Both you and Julian were used, can't you see that? They hurt you terribly, then forced you to hate each other."
But Cameron was shaking his head, the anger darkening his eyes again. "No, Sorrel would never use me like that..."
"Don't you think Julian Luna has had his own horror to face for what his sire did? What Sorrel did to you is hardly worse..."
"No, no..." Cameron pulled away, shaking, though Thorne could feel grief, not rage, sheeting from his slender form.
[I have to break him of this,] Thorne thought. He felt the silent support of his second, who was now close by, and reached for the Brujah again, taking him by the shoulders. "Sorrel made you strong, sent you to Chicago to be molded into a strong weapon for his personal use. But he never intended to face Archon himself, not when he had you to do it for him. You were his agent of death, Cameron. He used you to visit death upon his old enemy. Sorrel never intended to return to San Francisco and take over the clan and the city."
"How do you know? Why are you saying this?" Cameron flung back at him.
Thorne sighed, pulling him gently back against him. [Now, the trump card... though I can't believe Cameron wouldn't suspect his clan has been under investigation already...] "Constanta... Phillipe Constanta. He's of your blood..." After Cameron had told him the story of the massacre, Thorne had sent magus to Manzanita that same day, and discovered the fragile Constanta. The man's mind had been wide open, the story freely available. Thorne knew then he had to wait until Cameron was ready to hear it. The time was now.
Cameron, near to yielding, leaned his head back against the taller man's shoulder. "Tanta... he wanted to die after the massacre. Sorrel and I stopped him. He's never been whole since then, not really. He should have taken the banner up, but Sorrel sent me, said I was more Ventrue. A Ventrue-seeming Brujah to fight a Ventrue prince... it should have been Tanta, but he could not bear to leave Manzanita or Sorrel. The massacre... broke us, Tremere."
"Do you think further revenge will bring you peace?" Thorne whispered into his ear.
"There is no peace," the other murmured.
"There is always peace," the magus replied softly. "In death or in life. If you choose life, Cameron, I will help you do what needs to be done to restore your clan's place in this community. But you must let go of your hatred of the prince. Your sire made you to be a tool for revenge."
"He loved me..." Cameron's voice was weak, hollow.
"Perhaps. But he still made you to be a tool."
"Death would be so easy..."
Thorne closed his eyes, remembering times when he'd thought the same thing... over the ages, enduring persecution... other clan wars, too many of them, including several with Tremere and Brujah at each other's throats... betrayals and the harsh severity of the Pyramid... and lastly, narrowly escaping being brutally hunted down by Ventrue in England. Why did Thorne himself never despair? "Yes, Cam, death is easy. If you care nothing for your clan, then death might be your solution. If you died, another would attempt to lead, be killed, then another, and another, until the Camarilla were reduced to hunting down every last rabid Brujah in the city and spilling their blood, rolling their heads in the gutters. Or Cyrus would sweep in and take over the Brujah here, plunging the entire Kindred community into a bloody clan war."
There was still a bit of fight left in the Brujah. "But if I make peace with Julian, no one in my clan will respect me. They'll hunt me down..."
The Tremere snorted in derision. "Not if they have any intelligence. A clan cannot co-exist with other clans in a perpetual state of contempt. You push Luna too far, he'll declare your clan Anarchs. There will be no taking that back, Cameron. Then where will you go? Chicago? Hell, Brujah, I know where you learned to suck cock so well!"
He'd been hoping to draw out a little of the Brujah's pride. It worked. Cameron shrugged him off again, walked away before turning to face him again. "Fine! So I have to keep sucking cock. The Brujah Clan will go from being reviled to being laughed at. We will be the new dogs of the city, and Gangrels will spit on us, step on our heads which we will no longer be able to lift."
"I told you," Thorne reminded him with a wink, "no one needs to know of our... arrangement. Besides, hasn't it occurred to you that those two hours a week might even do you some good? That you might come to look forward to it?"
"You *are* twisted, Tremere," Cam spat back, but he trembled as he spoke, for he knew only too well that was exactly what was likely to happen.
"I will never exploit our arrangement, Cameron," Thorne murmured, folding his hands in front of him, leaning back on the edge of the other's desk. "I know a Brujah would find this difficult to understand or believe, but I am not doing this to wield power over your clan or in this city."
"So you say..." The Brujah shook his head. Indeed, it made no sense to eschew power when one could so clearly claim it. "I think you do have it in mind to work your way up to prince, Tremere..."
Thorne's expression turned icy, all his feelings of altruism vanished. "I could rape you where you stand for saying something like that, you worthless piece of Brujah shit. Go ahead, commit suicide and take half your clan with you. I won't care. But if you say something like that to me ever again, I'll hog-tie you with your own entrails. And don't think for a second that I've never done that to a Brujah before."
The Brujah shivered violently. And to his own astonishment he found himself on the floor, kneeling before the Tremere again. "I... I won't say that again..."
The voice came to the Tremere Regent in their link, soft and loving, [Thorne, beloved, please...]
"See that you don't," Thorne spat at the man at his feet, and backhanded him across the jaw, the pyramid symbol on his signet ring laying open a three inch gash. Cameron went spilling across the floor, blood spraying and staining his immaculate gray suitcoat and silk patterned tie.
[Beloved...]
[Once he feels and knows my power, he'll settle down. If it weren't for the history between him and Julian, I would turn him over to the prince for this sort of 'discipline'. If Cameron responds well right now, this whole transformation might actually work. I have to try...]
[Yes, Thorne, dear...] returned the voice, still close, still and always supportive. [I understand.]
Cameron wiped the blood off his chin and shifting to a sitting position, not yet daring to get up. He understood this sort of treatment all too well, much better, in fact, than all of Thorne's philosophizing. He'd felt the back of Sorrel's hand many, many times. So he was surprised when the Tremere Regent sat down on the floor before him. All he could do was gape at him, bewildered.
"I don't like to be pushed, either, Brujah," Thorne murmured quietly, sighing. "Now, where were we?"
The Brujah found voice somehow. "You, ah, were telling me you would not exploit our arrangement." He couldn't keep a tiny note of irony out of his voice.
"And I won't," Thorne replied. "I'm not going to take over control of your clan. I'm not going to do anything to you against your will unless, of course, you do something stupid which begs punishment... like that comment you made." He got to his feet and offered a hand to the other to help him up.
Cameron gingerly accepted the help up. "It's... hard to believe you." He flinched as if he expected to be struck again when Thorne lifted his hand. But the Tremere only trailed a finger through a last remnant of blood on his jaw.
"That's okay, you don't have a choice." Thorne smiled at him. "Besides, you will in time. Now, I believe you are about to have some business to conduct with a clansman named..." He paused while Ecco told him of the renegade he'd already discovered. "Ezra Bilder."
"What?" Then the Brujah jumped as Thorne leaned in to lick at the wound, cleaning and sealing it.
"One of Igen's cronies," Thorne explained. "Excuse me..." He turned around with his back to the Brujah. Immediately he closed his eyes and concentrated, recalling words of a particular spell he needed. Then the air around him began to blur...
Cameron gaped at the display of magick. But Thorne Severan did not turn back into "Charlie Wing". Instead he vanished within the Cloak of Transparency. Cam saw the door open, then started as a body was tossed inside his office. Ezra Bilder. The man scrambled to his feet, but Cameron was faster, and struck him back down to his knees. There was no signs or scent of the Tremere.
"Why should I let you live?" Cameron asked his clansmen, who knelt glaring at him.
"Pah, I don't care, but perhaps I can take you with me..." A phosphorous gun was suddenly produced from somewhere inside the man's clothes.
Cameron froze... too far from his desk to get his own gun. But to his astonishment, the gun was suddenly plucked out of Bilder's hand and sent flying. Enraged, Cam extended a talon and approached. "Traitor, filth of Eddie Fiori's blood, you must die!" He slashed Bilder's throat, then knelt to drink the life from the abruptly struggling Brujah.
A few minutes later when he had his fill, he found a sword near to hand. Yelling his rage, he cut off the traitor's head, then sagged down onto the floor, shaking.
[There will be more, soon, Cameron,] came the gentle voice of the Tremere in his head. [You can purge your grief. And then you will learn about living. Good day, Brujah.]
Cameron did not answer. A second later Charlie Wing and a couple others, having heard the yell, ran into his office. Back in his Brujah world, Cameron recovered. "This was one of Igen's. Get this scum out of here... and get me a clean suit of clothes. I'm going home."
Stunned, his men went into action.
Outside, the two Tremere embraced. [Beloved... thanks, I needed your voice,] Thorne murmured to his second in their link. [I feel such rage around him...]
[I confess that I found their thoughts chaotic, difficult to read,] Ecco admitted. [But I think we will be able to sort through all that to discover their loyalties, such as they are. We may find that a lot of them simply follow whomever is in power at the moment.]
Thorne drew his lover to a darkened alley. The sun was going to be up in about a half hour, but that did not concern them. After ascertaining that there was no one to observe, the magus laid aside their invisibility to spend a few moments together. [Actually,] Thorne replied, keeping their silence, [following whomever is in power is the smart thing for them to do. We will only have to deal with any who seek power for themselves.]
Then he looked long into Ecco's eyes. [You were right, I did need backup,] Thorne murmured into his mind, drawing him close against his body. [They are dangerous - to themselves every bit as much as to us. I felt Cameron's despair. He has been thinking a lot about suicide lately.]
Ecco's deep brown eyes gazed into the violet depths of his beloved's eyes. [Oh, no...]
Thorne smiled briefly and caressed his cheek. [I think he's rather more interested in living now. I hope. For the sake of the city...] He bent to kiss him tenderly.
[Come home with me now, love,] Ecco thought to him, accepting his lover's tongue into his mouth when his lips parted.
[I can't... Ecco, my love, I need to go to Julian with this.] Thorne continued to kiss him deeply and let his feelings fill the blood link between them. [Wait in my bed for me at home?]
Ecco finished the kiss and withdrew reluctantly. [I'll sleep in your bed,] he replied, winking at his lover. [You're just as likely to end up in the prince's bed, Thorne.]
Thorne felt a twinge of regret. [I want him... I lust after him... but I need to make love to you...]
[You will.] Ecco's gaze softened, letting his deep love for the Regent show through. [Actually, I'll be busy later with the last of the clan preparations for tonight's Ball at the Camera.]
[You won't be that busy... I want a little time with you before the Ball,] Thorne murmured before descending to his mouth again.
Back within the Brujah headquarters, Cameron had changed out of his bloody clothes. Though Charlie had called the car for him, he still sat brooding in his office, the blood-stained sword in his hand. He was idly examining the blade edge when his second came back in.
"My lord?" Charlie murmured, his eyes wide seeing the sword. "The car is ready."
Cam did not move, but his glance levered up at the other. "Why should I trust you, Charlie?"
[Oh, shit, he's in *that* mood again,] Wing thought, calming himself down before he panicked. "Lord, I am loyal to you alone. I spit on the memory of Eddie Fiori. Prince Cyrus of Los Angeles is a greedy fool and a danger to the Masquerade and all of his bloodline should be eliminated." [Say anything, man,] he told himself, watching his primogen's hands carefully.
"Right," Cameron sighed, recognizing the pat response. "By the way, who is your sire, Charlie?"
[SHIT!] "Ah, I was Embraced by Danny Ricker. He was, uh, second to the Brujah primogen in Denver, my lord." [And please don't trace him back to Chicago...]
"Ricker..." [I've heard of him... a gambler. Hmmm...] Cameron eyed his second warily. "I still don't know why I can trust you." He lifted up the sword. "This blade is thirsty, Charlie. And so am I."
"Yes, sir," Wing murmured, bowing. [If he wants my head, at least it will be a clean final death. I'd rather that than something prolonged. Shit, but Cam's in a mood. The bastard will take us all down...]
Cameron stood suddenly and came around the side of his desk, the sword still in his hand. As Charlie straightened, Cameron gripped him by the neck and shoved him back down against the edge of his desk. "If you ever give me any sort of reason to doubt you, Charlie, your neck will feel this steel. Do I make myself clear?" Still holding his second down by the grip on his hair, Cameron laid the edge of the blade against the back of the other's neck.
"Yes, my lord!" Charlie cried as fervently as he could manage. [Oh, sweet Buddha, don't...]
Then the steel blade was lifted. "Get out of here," Cameron muttered darkly. The man got, fingering his throat, very glad to still have his head.
[Oh, God,] Cameron thought, his hands shaking as he put the sword away and left his office. [Severan, even if you do help... it may be too late for me...]
The End
