by Soledad
A Swordfeast universe story Timeline: about a year after ''Finally'' Fourth part of the Cameron-storyline, between my own SWF-stories, ''A Private Meeting'' and ''Homecoming''.
Disclaimers: None of the ''Kindred''-vampires belong to me, and the background situation and the Richmond Tremere belong to the Swordfeast Universe. Cameron's bloodline, however, was created by me. I took his ancestors from the Brujah genealogy on the web-site White Wolfe Online. Some of the blood relations are authentic, others I simply made up. All the L.A. Kindred can be found in my original stories of the ''Pathways in the Dark'' universe, as well.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next day Cameron received a very polite request to meet Lady Abigail in the huge, old Victorian mansion of Lucien Lacroix. He didn't really feel like it, his recent session with Thorne had been a particularly brutal one, and he wasn't healing properly - to be honest, he wasn't healing at all! Sometimes he wondered if the Tremere had been slowly poisoning him or cursed him with some dark magic... and how long would he be able to endure the ultimate humiliation aside of the torture.
But he was so used nowadays to do what he was told that he couldn't rise enough willpower to deny. So he got into his car, although sitting alone had proven to be a paticularly cruel sort of torture for the last two days, and drove to the grand old house on a solitary peninsula near Belvedere with a rather spectacular view across the bay looking towards San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge was a glittering necklace on the southern horizon. It was just a few minutes past sunset when he arrived.
He climbed out of his car, cursing the way his legs trembled with exhaustion, and rang the doorbell. The massive front door opened at once, and he was greeted by a small, balding man who wore a black LAPD uniform. Cameron immediately felt that the other one was not only Brujah but somehow of the same blood as himself, too.
''You're remarkably punctual'', the police officer noticed as a way of greeting. ''Please, come in; you've been expected. The house owners are out hunting, so we'll able to settle our matters among ourselves.''
Cameron followed the stranger into a large, sparsely lit living room, worrying about the consequences of the True Undead going on the Hunt without the knowledge and the permission of the Prince. As much as he hated Julian Luna, he had to admit that the Ventrue ran a tight city and the Masquerade had never been in danger under his rule. The four vampires, on the other hand, who had been living in this house for the recent year, had already caused a great deal of trouble, not being able to disguise themselves as easily among humans as Kindred did.
''Don't worry'', Lady Abigail seemed to know what he was thinking about [or she simply looked into my head], he thought. ''I've instructed Lucius and his people very thoroughly. They won't dare to affront me. Now, have a seat, please.''
''I'd prefer to stand, if you don't mind, Lady Abigail'', Cameron didn't mean to be skittish or impolite; sitting was simply too painful at the moment. Thorne's sessions usually had that aftereffect, especially in the first couple of days after. [I'd be sufficiently healed, though, in five days' time for him to tear me in shreds again.]
Lady Abigail glared at him, the golden spots in her icy grey-blue eyes burning. It almost seemed as if she could read him like an open book. [Maybe she can. The Sisters of Greznich are said to have abilities unknown even among the warlocks.]
But after a short moment she simply nodded. ''As you wish. Let me introduce you my companions first. The infamously beautiful one over there is the long-time friend and bodyguard of your grand-Sire, Salvador Garcia.''
''Alonzo Solace'', the slender, dark-haired, handsome man in question offered Cameron a slow, seductive smile and a surprisingly firm handsake. ''It's nice to finally meet you.'' He had a Spanish accent - not a Mexican one as usual in L.A., but a European one, and the power he radiated gave the hint that he had to be at least two centuries old.
''And I am Miguel Sánchez'', the balding police officer introduced himself, ''Your Brood-brother.'' Contrary to Solace, he was undoubtably of Mexican descent, middle-aged, wiry and taut-faced like many who've come from hard-working, poor families. There was no idle fun in those narrow eyes, just watchful readiness and strength. This man must have seen a lot of hardness in his life, both before and after his Embrace.
Cameron, however, could not feign more but fleeting interest for him. He looked at the man bleakly, his eyes bereft of any feelings, sans confusion. ''There's only one left of Sorrel's bloodline aside of me'', he murmured, ''the poor, broken Phillipe Constanta. We don't have any blood relatives left.''
''That's where you are wrong'', Sánchez contered, ''though I must admit that I, too, believed to be the last living Childe of Sorrel... living being relative, of course. But fact is, he made me about ten years before you.''
Now there was some faint interest gleaming in Cameron's bleary eyes. ''How did you escape from Manzanita?''
Sánchez shrugged. ''I never actually lived there. Sorrel and I were... estranged. He wanted me to leave my mortal family unprotected and join his mindless war against Archon instead - which is really strange, considering the fact that we were related, in the mortal way. He used to be the uncle of my late wife. I asked him for the Embrace to be able to protect my children... and for that purpose only. I wouldn't leave them for him.''
''How could you deny him your support?'' Cameron asked accusingly. ''He was our Sire, for Caine's sake.''
Sánchez nodded. ''Yeah, he was our Sire - not our God. That was what he didn't seem to understand and that's why we were never close. He preferred blind obedience. He might have succeeded with you or poor Tanta, but I'm not cut of that sort of wood. So our ways drifted apart in mutual hostility, shortly after my Becoming. That's why I took my children after the Manzanita massacre and went to L.A. with them. I never regretted that decision.''
Cameron gritted his teeth, partially because of the lack of respect towards his late Sire on Sánchez' side, partially because weakness threatened to overwhelm him once again. ''What are you doing here, then?''
''I was sent by our grand-Sire'', Sánchez explained. ''He wants you in L.A. Preferably the day before yesterday, but tomorrow will do, to.''
''Well, he'll have to live with a disappointment'', Cameron spat, his lips narrowing to a thin, white line. ''I'm not the least bit interested in him.''
The beautiful Spaniard furrowed his brows. ''If I were you, I'd reconsider, kid. Salvador Garcia is not the man who would tolerate such an answer, especially not from one of his progeny... and I certainly won't risk to return to him without you. I'll drag you along by force if I have to.'' His deadly silky voice made it unmistakably clear that he would make his threat true.
But Cameron didn't flinch for a second. He wasn't easy to intimidate, and after all that he went through lately, there weren't many things that could make him cringle. ''You are welcome to try'', he answered, not minder deadly.
''That's quite enough'', Lady Abigail interfered calmly. ''Alonzo, stop threatening the boy. He's not that easy to scare, so don't waste your time. And Cameron; your grand-Sire has important reasons for calling you to him. Besides, he's your Elder. He has every right to demand your presence.''
''He's managed to do without me just finely so far'', Cameron growled. ''Why the sudden interest in me?''
''He didn't even know of your existence'', Sánchez said, ''not until I came to Sorrel's funeral, that is.''
Cameron looked at him doubtfully. ''You came? Why?''
''He was my Sire, too, after all'', Sánchez answered with a thin, wry smile. ''Besides, I wanted to meet poor Tanta. He told me about you... how you became the Primogen here. And that you killed Archon. Salvador was impressed. We all were. Even though we didn't support Sorrel's insane crusade.''
Cold wrath flared up in Cameron's suddenly silvery eyes. ''Don't you dare to insult our case... and our brethren who were slain by the Ventrue butcher innocently!''
''They were innocent victims of a misguided war, that's true'', Sánchez replied in a surprisingly gentle manner. ''A war that shouldn't have been started in the first place. A case, doomed from its very beginning. Salvador was against it. He told our obsessed Sire to leave Archon alone. But Sorrel wouldn't listen.''
Despite his soreness, Cameron slumped onto a seat, hastily surpressing a painful hiss. ''So that is why he has been disowned!''
''You didn't know?'' Sánchez asked in surprise.
Cameron shook his head. ''He never told us. Not me, not Tanta... no one. How... how did you find out?''
''When I moved to L.A., I contacted the local Brujah community. Salvador was already the Minister of the Eastern City... he watched me for about a year, then he revealed our connection. He even accepted my mortal children as part of our family. They live now under his protection.''
''That's... highly unusual...''
''It surely is'', Sánchez grinned wryly. ''Salvador is a rather... unconventional man.''
''I'm sure he is.'' Cameron hesitated. ''Do you also have Kindred Childer?'' For his part, it had been his greatest grief after Sorrel's death that he didn't have any Childer.
''Only one'', Sánchez answered. ''To keep the bloodline strong, we usually bring the promising candidates to Salvador. I only Embraced Matt because he was dying.''
Cameron hesitated again. He tried to distance himself from his branch of family, to hold on to his bitter loneliness, but the longing to know more was stronger than his wish for independence or anger. ''Just how big is the family?'' he finally asked.
''There are bigger ones in L.A.'', Sánchez shrugged, ''but we are pretty content as it is. Salvador is our patriarch, of course, but Alonzo here is at least as old as he is, and belongs, too, to our bloodline. Then, Salvador is married to an Italian noblewoman, one Countess Andrea Visconti, whose Sire, a Count Luigi Visconti, lives in L.A. as well. Then there are Salvador's own Childer: Valeria, Carlyle, Gloria and Allison, and, of course, myself and Matt. And now you and Tanta, too.''
Cameron shook his head, tiredly. ''Oh no, Tanta and I don't belong to you. We're Sorrel's brats and we share his exile, too.''
Alonzo approached them, gracefully like a large cat. ''Salvador sees that differently. He wants you in L.A. because you need your family. Now more than ever.''
''Why now? And why just me and not Tanta, too?'' Cameron still wasn't ready to believe in the suddenly awakened interest of his never-heard-of grand-Sire.
Alonzo rolled his dark eyes in exasperation. ''Are you telling me that you haven't noticed yet? Phillipe Constanta had left Manzanita some four months ago and is currently living in L.A... being taken care for in a Kindred clinic run by Salvador's Childe, Gloria.''
Cameron felt the dull ache of guilt stabbing his heart. In his misery he had, indeed, neglected to look after the fragile man who never regained his inner strength after the Manzanita massacre. ''How is he doing?'' He asked, deeply ashamed. Tanta had been his responsibility, ever since Sorrel's dead, and he failed his poor, tormented elder sib, big time.
''Better'', Sánchez answered soothingly. ''Gloria is a very good doctor. And he spends a lot of time with the family. He moved in with me, shortly after his arrival. My children treat him like a long-lost unce... what he, in fact, is. They have a lot of fun together.''
''Fun?'' Cameron repeated in disbelief. ''Tanta never had fun in his whole life!''
Sánchez shrugged. ''He has now. But that's not the point. Salvador wants you in L.A. and you'll have to go. End of discussion.''
Cameron sighed. Bone-deep weariness washed over him. Deep inside, he did want to obey, to escape the pressure and the pain that threatened to crush him here in San Francisco, to taste family, warmth, love - all those things Sorrel had failed to give him. Stil... ''I can't'', he murmured. ''I have... responsibilities here. The Clan would fall apart without a firm hand, and my businesses...''
''Your businesses haven't exactly flourished lately'', Sánchez interrupted, ''but that'll be taken care of, too, shortly. Luigi Visconti is coming in two days to handle the problem. As for the Clan...'', a frighteningly hard, almost cruel expression sharpened his face, making him look like a skull for a moment, ''I'm more than able to handle them. I used to be a drill Sergeant at the police academy as a mortal. Being Kindred, fortunately, gives me even more opportunity to... discipline people.''
Cameron frowned. ''So I'm being replaced? By whose authority? This is San Francisco, not L.A. He can't do that to me.''
''It's a temporary arrangement only'', Sánchez replied soothingly, ''until your issues with Salvador are done. Don't challenge our grand-Sire in this matter, little brother. You can't win. Not against him. He wouldn't tolerate disobedience.''
''I'm not his!'' Cameron didn't understand himself, why he refused to accept Salvador Garcia's authority so stubbornly, but something deep in him just wouldn't give in. ''He's known of me for a year and never required my presence...''
''He does now'', Alonzo started to lose his patience. ''According to Kindred law, it is his right to re-claim any lost Childe of his Childer, disowned or not. Ant that, exactly, is what he wants to do with you, just as he did with Tanta. The only thing you are entitled to in this matter is to obey his wishes.''
''I'm a Clan Primogen!'' Cameron countered through gritted teeth. ''No one tells me what to do, except the Prince of the city.''
''So, you'd rather obey the Butcher of Manzanita than your own grand-Sire?'' Lady Abigail intervened quietly. ''Don't be a fool, Cameron. Salvador could be a powerful ally - don't antagonize him. Understand that he wouldn't accept everyone in his family, no matter who made them. If he found you worthy, you should be thankful. It will greatly strengthen your position here. Besides'', she added after a short pause, ''he's offering you a way out of the trap you've let yourself maneuvered into by Tenisor, without loosing your face. You'd be a fool not to take it.''
That was certainly true, and hadn't Cameron already have lost all strength to resist his bitter fate any more, he probably would have grabbed the opportunity. But he was already too far gone in his misery to even look for a way out. The only thing he could see was that his formerly-unknown, very influential grand-Sire intended to take from him the only remaining reason of his painful existence: his position as a Clan Primogen, the faint chance that somehow, some day he might be able to fulfill Sorrel's legacy after all.
[He's broken], Alonzo Solace realized with a jolt of fear. [We might not be able to reach him any more. The only thing that still holds him on his feet is his stubborn refusal to give up. I'll have to take out the big guns.]
He pulled a manila envelope from his pocket. It was adorned with the delicate crest of a very old Spanish noble family in the left upside corner and was addressed to Cameron with the large, fluid, beautiful hand-writing of Salvador Garcia himself. ''Don't ruin the best chance in yur life out of mere stubbornness, Cameron'', he said in a low, gentle voice. ''Salvador could get you to L.A. by force, if he wanted. But he merely asked you to come and stay with the family for a while. Read his message and give him the chance to know you. That's all he asks for.''
Cameron tore the envelope open with trembling hands. In it, there was a simple sheet of thick beige paper, adorned with the same crest, and a short message, written by the same hand.
''To Ian Cameron, Childe of Juan Diego Sorrel, Primogen of Clan Brujah in San Francisco
Childe, you don't have to fight your enemy alone. Come to your family, rest and heal. It's what yours by right, and I intend to re-claim what is mine, by right, law and tradition.
You are probably mad because I didn't seek you out earlier. I had my reasons. We can discuss them. But before you go all stubborn on me, remember: I'm not giving you an order. I'm asking you a favour. An order, you can disobey, if you're ready to endure the consequences. But I'm your Elder, and it would be unseeming to refuse my request.
I await you in L.A. in two day's time.
Salvador Garcia, Childe of Don Ferdinando Almadóvar, Minister of the Eastern City of Angels, Leader of La Hermandad''
Cameron cursed inwardly. His grand-Sire had him hooked, for once. True, he could have disobeyed a direct order and accept the punishment which probably would have been a savage one; not that many things could really have hurt him after Thorne's torture sessions. But by his very Kindred nature, to refuse a request from his Elder who'd asked him in the most formal way, was simply impossible if one wasn't a Caitiff or an Anarch. And Cameron, almost Ventrue in his mannerism, was neither of those.
''Damn him'', he murmured, gritting his teeth. ''Did he have to ask me?''
''Obviously yes'', Alonzo grinned in relief. ''He's learnt how to deal with his own Childer, who, too, are much too stubborn for their own good.''
''All right'', Cameron sighed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. ''When am I supposed to leave?''
''I'd prefer to leave as soon as possible'', Alonzo said. ''The car we came by has tinted glasses, so even you would be safe after sunrise.''
Cameron glared daggers at him. ''What does that suppose to mean?''
''Muchacho'', Alonzo shook his head, ''there's no need to lie to me. I can see how very weak you are. In your present state you'd burn in the sun in a second. Salvador wouldn't appreciate me bringing him a pile of ash, you know. Are your affairs ordered for you to be able to leave at once?''
Cameron nodded wearily. ''They always are. I like them to be up-to-date.'' [Preparing for the possibility that one day I won't be able to leave Severan's torture chamber... How hypocritic of him to call it a 'drawing room''! The only thing that's ever been drawn there is blood... mostly mine.]
''Then you shouldn't return to your own place any more'', Alonzo suggested. ''Stay with Miguel until I fetch you. It won't take more than two hours for me to make certain errands for Salvador, and you'll be safe there. The flat is protected by Lady Abigail's spell, Severan won't be able to break it.''
''You really think the warlock would be foolish enough to take him by force?'' Sánchez wondered. ''To kidnap him now, that he knows he's protected?''
Alonzo shuddered involuntarily. ''I've only seen that guy once, but he gives me the creeps. Those eyes... just like the ones of a snake. A very poisonous one. I think he'd do just anything to prove he's the stronger one.''
Lady Abigail nodded grimly. ''I agree. Tenisor has no honour whatsoever, nor would he hesitate to take the Childe, just to keep him from escaping. He could be very... possessive, when his slaves are concerned. But I might do something about that. Give me the ring of your office, Cameron.''
Cameron warily gave her his Primogen's ring. The witch clenched a fist around it and started summing a wordless song. To common bewilderment, a faint white light began to shine from between her fingers, getting stronger and stronger with every passing second. Finally she stopped and reached the ring back to its owner.
''Wear it always, until you leave the city'', she instructed. ''It has been warded now. Tenisor won't be able to find you for the next days, not even with the help of scrying. And once you are in L.A., you'll be safe. It's a Domain Tenisor would never risk to set foot on. I've made sure of that.''
''I won't hide from the warlock'', Cameron murmured, mostly out of stubbornness, since he barely had the strength to stand.
''You won't have to'', the witch replied, ''at least not for long. But first, you must heal. The day of payback will come. That I swear you by the blood of my murdered Sisters.''
''Come now, little brother'', Sánchez urged in a manner of a worried, albeit a bit impatient father. ''Let me take you to my place. We'll take your car, but I'm gonna driving. You can tell me on our way what I have to know about Clan business.'' He shepherded the young man out of the house and the others soon could hear the faint roar of an engine.
Alonzo gave the witch a doubtful look. ''Do you think we can still bring him back? Or is he already gone too far?''
''He is seriously broken, for sure'', Lady Abigail answered thoughtfully, ''but I wouldn't give up hope just yet. Yours is a very close-knit family. You might be able to do it. But you'll have to give everything you have.''
''That is our intention'', Alonzo said. ''Now, I have to go, otherwise we won't be able to leave according the plan. Do you require my assistance in anything else?''
''No'', the witch shook her head slowly. ''Now, I'll just sit her and think. Plans are best developed in the Dark.''
The End
