Chapter 10

     Julian watched Caitlin sleep.
     He had sneaked back into her bed before dawn, knowing that she wouldn't have noticed his 
absence. She had been fast asleep when he had left to feed, and he had made sure that she would be 
too exhausted to keep vigil.
     Although he kept his distance, not wanting to wake her, she seemed aware of his presence. She 
turned and tossed restlessly until she came close and nestled against his body, relaxing at last. 
Julian made his temperature and heart rate match Caitlin's.
     How much longer would it work? he wondered. How much longer before she couldn't be 
able to pretend that she didn't know?
     He thought of his latest stunt. The memory was imbedded in a red haze: the red of Caitlin's 
blood; the red of the lust that had overwhelmed him so unexpectedly. Why did Caitlin's blood 
smell and taste so different from everybody else's blood? Why did it excite him so much?
     His body and mind had been numb for so long that he had started to believe that he would 
never feel anything again. And then, a few shards of broken glass, and all that had been pent-up 
inside him had burst open like an ugly, infected wound, spilling forth his desire, his craving, his 
Kindred dependency on the life-liquid of mortals.
     He shrunk back from his own memories.
     How can I pursue Cameron when I've done the same thing? he accused himself. Worse! I 
have violated her mind.
     The Manzanita incident. Cameron's voice. He had tampered with her memories. He had 
invaded the privacy of her being when he had thought that she had been unfaithful. He had hurt her 
so many times, everything culminating in the violent moments the other evening. She had been 
scared and bleeding and, instead of helping her, he had raped her, unable to stop himself. How 
could she accept that? How could she forgive? How could she still love him? How could she love 
him at all?
     Caitlin interrupted the throng of his incriminating thoughts when she moved restlessly. She 
mumbled something that even Julian's acute hearing didn?t catch. He touched her face lightly.
     "It's all right, Caitlin," he whispered. "It's just a dream."
     She opened her eyes, the pupils huge with panic, and gripped him, her nails digging painfully 
into his skin.
      "Julian," she sobbed, "I had a terrible dream. I dreamt you were hurt, and I couldn't help 
you!" She was clinging to him with all her strength, her body shaking in fear.
     You're dreaming the nightmares I should have, he thought. Only, I can't dream!
     "Caitlin, there's nothing wrong with me," he said to her. "You hear, nothing wrong."
     She calmed down slowly, but kept holding on to him, too upset to go back to sleep.
     I keep lying. Julian would not deceive himself at least.
     He was far from all right. The night before he had panicked at the snapping sound that 
Daedalus? lighter made when the Nosferatu lit a cigarette. Julian had followed the burning end with 
his eyes until Daedalus had noticed and extinguished it.
     "You've been burned...?" Daedalus had asked, holding up the half-smoked thing.
     "Yes."
     Daedalus' expression of revulsion had been beyond description. He hadn't posed more 
questions, but continued watching Julian with pity. He had noticed before that the Prince wouldn't 
allow anybody to touch him, keeping everybody at arm?s length at least. When Daedalus had taken 
hold of his shoulder on one occasion, Julian had stiffened as if he had been hit.
     No, he was far from being all right. That he was able to make love to Caitlin again didn't 
change the fact that the gruesome memories haunted him during his every waking hour.
     Caitlin's hands locked around his neck and she kissed him. He responded eagerly. Her kisses 
and caresses could chase away the terrible images from his mind. Julian had discovered during the 
last few days that the mounting desire, the passion, Caitlin's love, could lock away the evil, could 
make him forget. He had sought desperately that oblivion in her arms as often as he could, hoping 
that eventually the pain would vanish for good.
 

     Frank stared at Caitlin in disbelief.
     Several seconds passed in silence. At last, Frank tore his gaze from the woman and looked at 
her companion. Samuel Heims was everything Frank Kohanek had expected him to be. Frank had 
listened to the big man on the radio for many years. His appearance did respond to Frank's 
imaginary picture of Biggy, the mesmerizing voice of San Francisco nights. Now, he was sitting 
beside Caitlin Byrne in front of Frank's office desk, his calm, green eyes glittering with 
amusement.
     Frank cleared his throat before turning back to Caitlin.
     "Are you saying..." he hesitated for a moment, "that this thing is genuine?" He indicated the 
diskette that lay on his desk. 
     Caitlin had handed him the printed contents an hour ago, and both she and Biggy had sat 
waiting patiently while he read the diary. Caitlin shrugged.
     "I believe it's genuine. I've seen the original," she said.
     "The original?" Frank eyed her suspiciously. "Where did you find it?"
     "In Amy's computer." Caitlin had the good taste to look ashamed. "I deleted it."
     "Why?"
     But before Caitlin could say anything, Frank answered his own question.
     "You didn't believe it."
     "Oh, I believed it all right," Caitlin retorted. "Julian denied everything at first, but admitted 
eventually that he had... well, that he... that Amy wrote the truth." Caitlin looked up at the policeman 
and squared her shoulders in defiance. "But he denied absolutely that he had anything to do with 
her disappearance."
     "Nevertheless, you've destroyed evidence," Frank returned her gaze unwavering. "You 
shouldn't have done that."
     Caitlin looked away blushing.
     "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't want you to harass Julian."
     Frank's face turned red too. As things were at that time, Caitlin had had every reason to try to 
protect her lover from Frank's suspicions.
     "So why are you here now?" Frank asked at last. "Why didn't just destroy this one too? 
Why...?"
     "It was sent to me anonymously," Biggy interrupted. "I confronted Julian Luna with it, and it 
was he who suggested that I turn it over to the police. He didn?t seem to care very much, but he said 
that he didn't want it to become public knowledge." Biggy tapped the diskette with his index finger. 
"It would become a nuisance, as he put it. He also told me that he didn't know what had become of 
the lady in question."
     "She doesn't sound like much of a lady," Frank commented, and Biggy chuckled.
     "No, she certainly doesn't," he said. "As I said, it was sent to me anonymously. Maybe it was 
Miss Weatherstone herself who sent it, or had it sent. Who knows?"
     "Hm..." Frank turned a page in the end of the diary. "She has written here that she intended to 
contact Julian Luna..." He looked up at Caitlin who shrugged again.
     "You know how difficult it is to contact Julian when he doesn't want to be found," she 
retorted. She remembered how she had chased Julian Luna when she wanted to interview him. She 
had been on the verge of giving up.
     Frank sat frowning at the offensive pages of the diary. It made him angry. Its contents 
described events that took place at about the same time when he had found Julian and Lillie in bed 
together. He remembered the rage he had felt then and his broken ribs. As far as he knew, Julian 
and Lillie had not been together again afterwards.
     "You shouldn't have left the country," Frank told Caitlin, making her wince. He turned to 
Biggy. "But whoever has sent it to you will realize quite soon that you don't intend to use it. He or 
she will send a copy to someone else."
     "Don't worry, Biggy responded. "This person will be listening. I'll get a message across. 
Don?t worry..."
     Julian had kept the tape of the conversation between Biggy and Cameron.
     Frank had told Biggy that if he were contacted again by the person who had sent the diskette, 
to urge him or her to go to the police. Julian smiled at that. Let's see if Cameron dares to approach 
Frank Kohanek, he thought.
     In the meantime, he had started to think of ways to chase the Brujah out of the City. Cameron 
had overstayed his welcome.
     Frank had called and asked to see him and Julian had agreed to that although he would have 
preferred not to. Frank was a sore spot; he always managed to rub Julian the wrong way, and the 
Prince knew why.
     This is what I'd be like if I were mortal, he thought. This is what I was like when I was a 
mortal, he corrected himself.
     Frank Kohanek was drawn towards the dark Kindred world, just as Julian Luna was drawn 
towards the world of the living.
     That's why our paths are intertwined. 
     Julian was wondering how much it would take to nudge Frank off the edge of the human 
world. To make him want to become a Kindred. He hoped for his own sake, as well as for Frank's, 
that it would never happen. Julian wanted to protect Frank's humanity; his own was lost forever.
     Frank's humanity, however, was not in evidence when they met.
     "You look like hell!" the policeman commented amiably. "What's happened to you?"
     Julian blinked in surprise. He was absolutely sure that there was no trace left of his injuries. 
He sighed in exasperation. If Frank Kohanek could sense his anguish so easily, what did others 
see, those who knew him well: Daedalus, Caitlin, Lillie...
     "I'd probably feel much better if everybody wasn't telling me how lousy I feel," he said, not 
hiding his irritation and Frank laughed. He peered at Julian closely.
     "In fact, you don?t look that bad. It's just..." he hesitated for a moment, "well, you've got that 
look, like somebody who has been... mistreated."
     Julian stared at the policeman. Is it so obvious? he wondered.
     "I have been... mistreated," he said softly.
     "I'm sorry." There was genuine compassion in Frank's face. Whatever animosity there had 
been between them in the past, it was gone, and Frank changed the subject. "You promised me that 
you'd tell me what was going on when it was over. Is it over yet?"
     Julian nodded.
     "Yes, it's over. There was a rather big... controversy among the Kindred. It has been settled."
     "Controversy!" Frank couldn't help laughing. "But you are a master of understatement! It's 
all right though. As far as I know, no human being has been harmed. What you do to each other is 
your business. You are the judge in this city when it comes to your kind, aren't you?"
      "I am," Julian confirmed, relieved that Frank had dropped the subject of the Kindred war so 
easily. "But I'm not alone, although my word carries the most weight."
     "Fancy company I keep." Frank laughed again and peered at Julian's pale face. "You know, I 
thought you were invulnerable," he added, unable to hide his gloating. He was still unsure of his 
feelings about the Prince of San Francisco. I hate his guts and I admire him, he thought.
     "Well, I'm not." There was a trace of anger in Julian?s voice. "I've found that out the hard 
way."
     "So... what happened to you?" Frank asked again but the Prince ignored the question. 
     "Frank, when you asked to see me, it wasn't because you wanted to inquire about my health. 
What's on your mind?"
     "Anamaria Weatherstone," Frank said and Julian sighed.
     "I wish she hadn't gone missing. This thing is plaguing me." Julian wished sincerely that he 
hadn't killed that woman, but he couldn't change the past. He was quite sure that the Nosferatu had 
made her body disappear for good. It would never turn up, showing that she had died a violent 
death.
     "I met her once, in the Haven," Julian said. "It's in her diary, the way she remembered it."
     Frank's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
     "Are you saying that she remembered it wrong? So what really happened?"
     Julian regretted his comment but felt compelled to answer.
     "I... fed from her, that's all." He looked away, but Frank didn't know him well enough to 
interpret his avoidance of eye contact as reluctance to talk.
     "Of course," Frank was explaining to himself, "you could hardly tell Caitlin that, so you 
admitted to having sex with her." He was silent for a moment. "Did you?"
     Julian forced himself to look at Frank again.
     "Let's say I didn't fend off her advances." He leaned forward, his gaze locking Frank's. "It 
tastes better when it's hot, you know."
     Frank stared at the Kindred with a mixture of revulsion and fascination.
     "My God!" He felt a shiver travel up his spine. Julian Luna's alienage had hit him with full 
impact. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. The picture of Lillie and Julian, covered with 
blood, flashed through his mind.
     "You truly are different," he said, his voice barely a whisper, and Julian snorted.
     "I'd have thought that you'd have realized that by now. If you don't want to hear the answer, 
don't ask the question!" He had shocked the policeman deliberately. "Haven't Alexandra and Lillie 
taught you anything?"
     "They've never fed from me!" Frank almost shouted. "At least I don't think so," he added 
much more calmly.
     "No, of course not." Julian smiled suddenly. "We don't feed from our human... companions. 
Unless they feed us their blood deliberately." His face became serious again. "Frank, do not offer 
your blood to Lillie, ever! Not, unless you want to become one of us. I hope you never will. But if 
you do... I don't think you'd want to become a Toreador."
     Frank glared at the Prince in disbelief.
     "Are you offering to Embrace me?"
     "No!" Julian was shaking his head. "You'd hate being Kindred. Even more than I do."
     "You wish you were a mortal man?" Frank asked with incredulity.
     "No, there's no point in wishing for something that cannot be." Julian's smile was suddenly 
sad. "But I miss it."
     Frank leaned back; he was shocked and bewildered. The picture of Julian Luna that his mind 
had created had suddenly turned false. Frank had glimpsed a bottomless pit of pain and despair in 
the Kindred, and a feeling of pity swept over him. 
     "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't know..." His voice trailed off, he couldn't find the right 
words. Instead he returned to the original subject of the conversation.
     "The diary, what should be done about it?"
     Julian gave the question full attention.
     "I want you to find the one who sent it to the radio station and make him understand that he's 
interfering with a police investigation. That should stop him."
     "I'll see what I can do," Frank responded, not realizing that Julian's use of a definite pronoun 
indicated that he knew who the offender was.
     As he had promised his Sire, Biggy sent a message while he was talking on the radio, to the 
one person who would understand it.
     "A friend has sent me a gift," he said. "A very important gift. Please, call me. We need to 
discuss how we can put it to the best use."
     Cameron called as soon as Biggy was off the air. 
     "It's out of my hands," Biggy told him. "As soon as I started digging around, the police 
turned up here with a search warrant and impounded the diskette as well as my printout. I almost 
ended up in jail because I wouldn't tell them who gave it to me. Not that I would, even if I could. 
But I think they want you badly."
     "Why?" Cameron was wondering how much influence Julian Luna had over the San 
Francisco Police Department. "Does Luna think that he's omnipotent. I can make as many copies 
as I wish. Send them wherever I want."
     "Sure you can," Biggy responded. "But it's not Mr. Luna who is throwing his weight around. 
It's Weatherstone senior, and he's got a lot of weight. If your daughter had written something like 
that, would you want it published, whether she was missing or not?" Biggy paused. "If you want to 
bring Luna down, you should talk to the police."
     "Why? They already have the diskette. What do they need me for?"
     Biggy sighed in exasperation.
     "It doesn't work that way. As long as there's no source, it's just a pile of anonymous crap. 
Now, if you could tell them that she gave it to you, that would change the matter entirely. With a 
little imagination the police might connect Miss Weatherstone's disappearance to Julian Luna." 

     Biggy knew that he was laying it on thick. He knew perfectly well that there was no evidence 
that Julian had met Amy again, and as long as there was no body, no crime had been committed. 
But Cameron, being a Brujah, wasn't well versed in human laws. He merely saw it as an 
opportunity to get Luna with the one thing from which he could not protect himself. The Prince 
could not intimidate humans the way he could intimidate the Kindred. 
     "Okay," Cameron had already decided, "I'll do it."
     It's fortunate that he can't see the triumphant smile on my face, Biggy thought.
     "All right. Now, the officer in charge, his name is Frank Kohanek..."
     "Frank Kohanek!" Cameron almost shouted. "That's Luna's puppet!"
     "He didn't sound like a puppet to me," Biggy retorted. "On the contrary, he seemed... well, I 
got this feeling that Julian Luna has offended or harmed him in the past. I think he would welcome 
the opportunity to nail Luna's hide to his wall." 
     Biggy laughed at his own choice of words. If anybody's hide were going to be nailed, it 
would be Cameron's, and it would look quite nice on Julian's wall. If Biggy knew what Cameron 
had done to Caitlin, he would have done the nailing himself.
     Cameron was thinking furiously. 
     The reporter might be right. Cameron knew about Alexandra. Frank Kohanek could hardly 
be a friend of Luna. The fact that he knew about the Masquerade might make it easier to convince 
him that Julian Luna had something to do with Amy's disappearance.
     Cameron made up his mind.
     "I'll talk to him," he told Biggy and hung up.

     Although Sasha had told him that she would never speak to Julian again, Cameron decided to 
treat her outburst as temporary insanity. True enough, her beloved Cash had died in the Prince?s 
service - one Gangrel less as far as Cameron was concerned - but Julian Luna was still her family. 
The fact that she was Brujah didn't change that. She would find out soon enough that the Brujah 
Clan wasn't wealthy, while Julian was a bottomless source of money. Besides, being related to the 
Prince had its advantages, apart from Julian?s apparent fondness for Sasha. Cameron would take 
her in, as she had no Sire and no income. He would pamper her and put up with her whims. Sasha 
might prove useful in the future. 
     It took Cameron only a few days to coax the girl into his bed. Not that he particularly wanted 
her; she was too young and childish for his taste. She seemed to enjoy her newly found sexual 
power and Cameron let her believe that it was she who had seduced him. Apparently, her charm 
hadn't worked on Luna, the fool! That?s why she was Brujah now. Cameron didn't know that 
Julian had wanted Sasha to lead a human life.
     As Cameron had suspected, it did not mean that the Prince had abandoned his young relative 
just because she had abandoned him. A Ventrue woman came to Cameron's office one night and 
asked to talk to him alone. When he sent everybody out, she put a briefcase on his desk and opened 
it. It was filled with money. Cameron tried very hard not to stare.
     "It's for Sasha," the Ventrue said. "Don't let her know that it comes from the Prince."
     The Brujah Primogen made an effort to look offended.
     "I can take care of my own Clan!"
     "Of course you can," she retorted smiling. "But Sasha is a handful. If she is well cared for, it 
will be... appreciated. And there is more where this comes from."
     Cameron accepted the money. His investment had already started to pay off.


     Lillie had had enough.
     Something had to be done before Julian Luna destroyed himself. She was quite sure that she 
knew him better than anyone else. Even that lofty Nosferatu couldn't know everything. According 
to Lillie, she was the only one who could be of any help. However, when she tried to approach 
Julian, he refused to see her alone. Lillie was hurt. Dismayed, she watched him bring Caitlin back. 
She had believed that the human woman was gone for good. Then, she watched them suffer.
     If you can't help him, move over, Lillie thought angrily.
     Lillie Langtry decided to confront Caitlin.
     She went to Caitlin's office, late in the afternoon, knowing that it was the only place where she 
could speak to that mortal wimp without Julian hanging around.
     Caitlin looked at the Toreador Primogen with surprise.
     "Lillie, what brings you here?"
     "I want to talk to you," Lillie responded amiably enough. "I've noticed that Julian is... unwell." 
She was smiling her most friendly smile. "Is everything all right between you two?"
     Caitlin knew how forthright Lillie could be.
     "Yes. Yes!" she answered. "He has been rather depressed lately, but I think that he's over it 
now." She felt rather uncomfortable under Lillie's scrutinizing gaze. The smile was still there.
     "Are you sure? I've got the impression that... well, that he keeps to himself mostly."
     Caitlin frowned. The last thing she wanted to do was to discuss Julian with his former lover. 
She understood very well what Lillie was implying, but decided to play dumb.
     "What are you trying to say, Lillie?" she inquired.
     Lillie's smile didn't waver but she sighed.
     "I know that he doesn't make love to you. I think you should leave him alone."
     That's Lillie, all right! Caitlin thought. She was on the verge of saying oh, but he does, but 
stopped herself. Lillie couldn't know what had happened in the library only a few days ago.
     "I don't think that's any of your business!" Caitlin stood up, no longer hiding her anger.
     "Oh, but it is!" Lillie rose too. "You see, I can help him, whereas you can't!" The smile was 
gone and Lillie's eyes flashed white.
     "The only person who can tell me to go is Julian," Caitlin retorted. She laughed to cover her 
fear. "Whatever you think you've got that I haven?t, it?s not for you to decide what I should do!"
     Lillie tossed her head. She had lost her temper and raised her voice.
     "We have things in common that you can?t even start to imagine!"
     "What things? What do you have in common with Julian? What is it I can't imagine?" Caitlin 
was using her journalistic skills to throw Lillie off balance, barraging her with questions.
     "Stay out of this!" Lillie shouted. "You're not Kindred!"
     "Whose kindred?" Caitlin asked as she watched the other woman turn deathly pale.
     But Lillie didn't answer. Instead she turned abruptly and stomped out of the office.
     Caitlin stared after her uncomprehendingly.
     "What kindred?" she wondered aloud and then heard Julian's voice clearly in her mind: 
     We call ourselves Kindred.
     She sat down abruptly.
     It's the key, she thought. That word is the key!
     Slowly, as if she were in a trance, she turned to her computer and typed Kindred. She hesitated 
for a moment before pushing the search button. Caitlin stared at the screen, refusing to believe what 
she had found, but deep down in her soul she knew that what she was looking at was the truth. It 
was all there, vague, yet compelling.
     "Oh, my God!" she almost sobbed. "Nick was right!"
     This time the description fit all she knew about Julian. Except for the drinking of blood. But 
of course, Julian never would have let her see that! Or would he? She shivered violently, 
remembering the accident with the picture frame. He had lapped her blood! And the picture! Was it 
really Julian's great-grandfather? Could two men, separated by several generations, be as alike as 
twin brothers? Or was it Julian himself in that picture?
     I've gone mad! she thought. I can't take it anymore!
     She jumped up and ran out of her office.
     There must be some rational explanation, she kept repeating to herself. There must be! Oh, 
Julian, please, explain this away!
 

     Over the years Daedalus had taken care of Julian's wounds and had tended to his injured ego 
more times than he cared to remember. This time was no different, and the Nosferatu decided to do 
something about it. As usual, the Prince became aware of the presence of the Nosferatu Primogen 
as soon as Daedalus entered the library.
     "Aren't you taking this a little too far?" the Nosferatu asked at last. The Prince had ignored 
him a few seconds too long. Daedalus got back a glare.
     "What are you talking about?"
     "You got out of there alive," the Nosferatu shrugged. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself!"
     "You got me out alive," Julian responded, "and I don't feel sorry for myself. It's worse."
     "Worse?"
     "I'm scared." The statement wasn't followed by an explanation, so Daedalus was forced to 
ask.
     "What are you afraid of?"
     Julian looked away. Daedalus knew that reaction all too well.
     "If you won't tell me, I can't help you."
     Julian returned his gaze reluctantly to his friend. 
     "It's Caitlin. I'm afraid that she's about to find out the truth and that this time I'll lose her. 
Do you still think that you can help me?"
     The irony in the Prince's voice passed Daedalus? ears unnoticed.
     Depression is a human weakness, the Nosferatu thought. Nevertheless, Julia Luna suffered 
from that ailment every few years. Daedalus believed that many of Julian's reckless affairs were 
attempts at fighting his way out of those suffocating, black periods in his life.
     Taking into consideration what he's been through recently, it's no wonder... Daedalus was 
sure that the problem wasn't Caitlin but the Prince himself.
     "So why don't you leave everything, take Caitlin and run off to some God forsaken hole, 
adopt a bunch of children and pretend that you're human!"
     Julian stared at the Nosferatu in horror.
     "I can't do that!" he yelled. "Are you out of your mind!?"
     "No, I'm not." Daedalus started to sound angry. "But that's your option. Or you can pull 
yourself together and start behaving as befits your status."
     "My... what?"
     "Julian, you're the Ventrue Prince of the City, but you're Kindred first. How many centuries 
have to go by before you fully accept that fact? I'm sure that Caitlin would accept what you are if 
she knew. So stop blaming your bad mood on her!"
     She did! Julian reminded himself. Daedalus is right, as usual. Damn the nosy Nosferatu! 
Why does he always have to be right?
     But before Julian could respond, the Nosferatu was gone. The door to the library had opened 
and Caitlin had come in. Except for Daedalus, she was the only one who would enter without 
knocking. It had annoyed Julian sometimes, but right now he was grateful for the interruption. To 
be told off by Daedalus wasn't Julian's favorite pastime. He greeted Caitlin warmly.
     "Am I glad to see you!" he exclaimed, taking no notice of her distraught expression. "Let's 
get out of here before I throw all these papers into the fire." He indicated the pile in front of him. 
"Come!" Before Caitlin could make one sound of protest or agreement, he had dragged her out into 
the San Francisco nightlife.
     The guards followed them wherever they went, even Caitlin was able to spot some of them. 
They visited a couple of nightclubs that Caitlin didn't know existed. Julian drank wine as if it were 
water, not noticing that Caitlin refused to drink. He got into a fight with a man who called him a 
spic, and behaved as if he were drunk. Caitlin watched him with incredulity, she had never seen him 
in such mood. In the end they found an amusement park for adults only: open all night. They rode 
on a roller coaster until Caitlin started to feel sick. Then he bought her a hot-dog and shot down an 
enormous pink elephant which she had to carry around. He was apparently determined to enjoy 
himself, but Caitlin sensed his desperation and it scared her.
     He knows that I know! she thought with apprehension.
     The blinking spotlights, the noise, the milling masses of people, made it all seem unreal.
     The House of Horrors, the bold sign said.
     They looked at it for a moment.
     "Let's escape," Julian had whispered into Caitlin's ear and they rushed inside. They climbed 
into a miniature van and it started its journey with a jolt. Caitlin had placed the plush elephant on the 
seat between them, but Julian pushed it down on the floor and drew her close, his arm tightening 
around her shoulders. The van gathered momentum in the pitch darkness and suddenly there was a 
burst of light and a crude skeleton materialized in the spotlight, clattering its plastic bones. Julian 
laughed, and the skeleton disappeared as if offended by his laughter. That made Caitlin laugh too. 
Seconds later the light came on again illuminating a hairy creature that might be a bad, moth-eaten 
copy of King-Kong. This time they both laughed simultaneously and lost their interest in the 
horrors that the house had to offer. They were still kissing when the van came to a stop and the 
lights came on again. They got out, leaving the pink elephant behind.
     "Let's go home!" Julian suggested. 
     Apparently he had had enough of the nightlife, Caitlin realized with relief.
     A bodyguard was sitting in the front passenger seat, as always. Caitlin had asked about Arthur 
and Cash, but Julian had merely told her that they were gone. Caitlin and Julian were alone in the 
cavernous back seat.
     How do the other guards travel? Caitlin wondered fleetingly. Where they like him...? 
Kindred? She shivered violently and Julian closed her in his arms.
     "What is it, love?" he asked quietly. "Are you cold?" There was genuine concern in his voice, 
but he started to kiss her before she could answer and his hands moved over her body. He had 
never done that so blatantly in public. Caitlin tried to stop him, but her own lust betrayed her and 
her arms locked around his neck. She was sliding down slowly, intending to lie down on the seat, 
but there was something behind her back that arrested her movement. She turned in Julian's arms 
with a surprised shriek. He reached up and turned on the lamp. 
     They stared at the big, pink toy. One of the guards must have retrieved it from the House of 
Horrors and placed it in the car. They both looked at it for a moment and started laughing.
     "What a chaperon!" Caitlin exclaimed and laughed even harder.
     Julian took the elephant and placed it on his knees. It was so big that its uplifted trunk was 
only inches from his face.
     "I've told you before and I'm telling you again..." Julian was talking to the toy with mock 
seriousness, exaggerating his British accent, "leave the lady alone. I've shot you once, I can do it 
again." He was pointing his finger at the pink head.
     Suddenly the guard in the front turned around, a gun in his hand.
     "Boss, let me do it!" He was imitating an Italian accent.
     Julian's head snapped up, his eyes glowing green.
     "Put the gun away!" he hissed, and the guard did as he was told with unbelievable swiftness, 
turning away. Julian continued to glare at the guard who hunched in his seat, apparently aware of 
the anger that he had provoked.
     "Julian," Caitlin took hold of his sleeve, "he was just joking."
     He turned, his glimmering gaze focusing on her.
     "I don't appreciate a gun waving in front of me," he said. "Especially in such cramped space," 
he continued. "Especially when you're around!"
     Caitlin kept staring into Julian's green eyes.
     "He wasn't even pointing it at me," she retorted. "I don't..."
     "But you're the one who can get hurt!" Julian snapped, then turned abruptly away. When he 
looked back at her a few seconds later, his eyes had returned to their normal deep brown color.
     "Here." He shoved the pink elephant towards her. "Hold on to your friend." He leaned back, 
turning off the light.
     Caitlin was trying to gather her wits in the darkness that ensued. 
     Julian, she was thinking, you've just said that I can be hurt by a gun but you can't! She tried 
to look at her lover but it was too dark in the car. What really happened to Joe? she wondered. You 
killed him when I left you to get help. You didn?t really need any help, did you?
     "Julian..." she whimpered.
     He responded to her voice, his arm encircling her, making her rest her head against his chest. 
She heard his heart beat slowly.
     "Oh, Julian," she whispered, "why don't you stop this masquerade?"
     She felt him stiffen and at the same time the car came to a halt in front of the entrance to the 
mansion.
     The Masquerade!

     It was as if the magic word had opened a locked door in her mind. The vivid images burst 
forth: the three attackers, the knife stabs, the flowing blood; Julian barely alive, his confession; the 
horribly burned man flying through the window... and more blood; her own blood, running over her 
lover's lips...
     "Oh, my God!" Caitlin stumbled on the first step and Julian caught her arm. She turned to 
face him.
     "Julian..." she started.
     "Not here!" he interrupted her, then lifted her and carried her into the house.
     He kicked the door to her sitting room open, walked in and placed her on the table, but didn't 
let go of her. He prevented her from talking, his kisses hot and desperately urgent, as if he were 
begging - don't destroy us!
     Caitlin couldn't help responding to that silent plea. She was clinging to him, quite sure that 
something terrible would happen if she let go. Realizing that she would not refuse him, Julian lifted 
her up again and carried her into the bedroom.
     This was his favorite moment: watching her face; her breathing shallow and uneven, stopping 
and restarting with a moan; her nails digging into his flesh. Her body so soft, warm and yielding. 
No resistance. Just hot and moist and so utterly exciting. Her magical inner muscles gripping him 
with the strength of a fluttering butterfly, sending him into his own world of dissolving, shuddering 
flames of pleasure...
     They were kissing, soft, tender kisses. Caitlin bit at his lower lip lightly, and he responded in 
kind. But soon, there was blood running in thin rivulets down their chins, and they were no longer 
playing. Suddenly, Caitlin was the domineering one, making him lie on his back and follow her 
rhythm and movements as best he could. He touched her, but she took his hand away, whispering:
     "My call."
     He touched her face then and watched her turn her head, her teeth catching his wrist, making 
him shudder with delight. The blood trickled down his arm, and her mouth followed until she 
reached the crook of his arm. He felt her bite again. He was cradling her head, urging her on, the 
pleasure making him dizzy...
     She was looking straight at him, the back of her hand smearing the blood over her face, and he 
realized that she was fully aware of what was happening, her expression of desire mingling with 
fear... She was moving down over his body, her lips tracing hot paths on his skin. He understood 
what she was going to do, and his reason screamed: Stop her! Stop her, before it's too late! But his 
body betrayed him in its desire for fulfillment, his hips tensing stiffly against her touch. He 
screamed and heaved violently, but she didn't let go, robbing him of every last ounce of strength, 
until his body sagged in total emptiness...
     Caitlin sat quietly, watching Julian's motionless body. His eyes were closed, his beautiful face 
relaxed.
     My God! Caitlin thought. He?s unconscious. 
     She jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. After pouring cold water over a towel, she 
returned to her lover; he was covered with blood. Whimpering with fright, Caitlin started to clean 
his face first, and was surprised when he reacted to the cold immediately, his eyes opening, his hand 
catching hers.
     "Julian," Caitlin whispered, "I thought you had fainted."
     He smiled and took the soaked towel from her and wiped his face. Caitlin retrieved it and 
cleaned his chest and arm. There was no trace left of her bites on his wrist or in the bend of his arm. 
She went back to the bathroom and took another towel. This time she held it under hot water. 
Returning to the bed, she laid it over his belly and thighs, and saw him wince in pain. The fabric 
turned red within seconds. She waited until the red blotch stopped spreading before carefully 
removing the towel. No more blood came forth. She touched him lightly, and his hand caught hers 
again.
     "Caitlin," he said, "I'm fine." He looked her over. "You could use some cleaning yourself," he 
was smiling tiredly. 
     Caitlin spent only a few minutes in the shower, but when she returned Julian was asleep, 
curled up like a cat, the covers drawn up to his chin. Caitlin was too scared and too upset to sleep. 
Her mind was clear and she was absolutely sober. She knew what she had done, there was no way 
she could forget it this time. However, she was still unsure about her memories. And the Internet, 
well, anything could be found on the Net. She sat down in a chair. She would wait until she knew 
the truth. 
     Julian moved in his sleep several times, startling her, but she continued to wait. At last, when 
almost three hours had passed, he turned on his back, his body stretching to its full length. She 
closed in on him cautiously, as a hunter moves on his prey. Her hand took hold of the edge of the 
cover, and carefully, she pulled it away. There was no sign left of the injuries her teeth had inflicted: 
none at all. She let her hand touch his unmoving chest: nothing. The skin over his breastbone was 
cold against her cheek as she pressed her ear to his left side: nothing. She waited for more than a 
minute and then there was a powerful thud. Another minute, another beat.
     This isn't human! her mind yelled, and Caitlin felt her heart jump into her throat.
     "Not human," she sobbed.
     Caitlin put on her clothes with jerky, mechanical movements. Ten minutes later, she had 
sneaked out of the mansion.


     When Julian awoke, it was daylight.
     I've overslept, was his first thought, the next, I've slept. He turned in bed with dread,
but Caitlin wasn't there. Yet, he was not alone: Daedalus was standing by the door. The
Nosferatu's face, usually so impassive, was stricken with grief. It made Julian get out of bed with a bolt. 
     "What's happened?!" He heard the anguish in his own voice.
     But Daedalus turned without a word and walked out through the door. Julian followed, 
forgetting that he was naked. He didn't make it all the way to the couch. His legs gave in when he 
was halfway through the sitting room and he fell to his knees. He looked at his own hands, flattened 
against the floor in an attempt to support his weight.
     "No!" His own scream echoed in his head. "NO!" Then he crumbled on the floor.
     In the total stillness that came over him, he felt the painful snap inside his chest. Julian Luna 
knew that had he been mortal, he would have died now. But he was not so fortunate. His breathing 
ceased and his heart stopped beating. He felt his body become colder. But the agonizing pain was 
there and would stay with him forever. Julian was not aware that Daedalus had spread a blanket 
over his naked body, nor that Sasha had lifted his head on her lap, her red tears splashing on his 
face. He was locked away in the horror of his own mind, hoping for the madness to engulf him. 
     There exist no sedatives that would affect a Kindred's mind, but the compassionate Nosferatu 
took Julian's consciousness away. 


     Frank Kohanek looked at Caitlin with apprehension. He had just put on his jacket, about to 
leave, on his way to the meeting with Cameron. It was almost four in the morning when Caitlin had 
turned up on his doorstep, her face distraught. Apparently, she had been crying.
     "Caitlin, what are you doing here at this hour? What's wrong? Has something happened to 
Julian?" Frank was starting to feel scared.
     "I think I've gone completely out of my mind," Caitlin?s voice broke. "He doesn't breathe! 
His hearts beats only once every minute!" She started to cry.
     "What!!!?"
     "I watched him!" she was wailing. "When he was asleep. So cold. And he doesn?t breathe!" 
she exclaimed again.
     "Well, then you don't have to worry about him snoring." Frank could have kicked himself for 
that stupid attempt at a joke when he saw Caitlin's frightened expression.
     Damn! he thought. I shouldn't be dealing with this. Luna should!
     "Caitlin, please, calm down!" He took hold of her shoulders. "Calm down, you're hysterical."
     "Of course I'm hysterical," she screamed. "Wouldn't you be if you found out that your lover 
is a vampire?!"
     Frank just stared at her and Caitlin became aware of his lack of reaction. She looked up in his 
face.
     "You knew," she whispered. "You knew all the time. Oh, my God! You tried to warn me off." 
The shock made her stop crying.
     After she had fled the mansion in panic, she had tried to find Biggy, but he had already left the 
radio station, and there was no answer when she tried to call him at home. She didn't know what to 
do then. That's when she had thought of Frank Kohanek. The impersonal voice at the police station 
informed her that detective Kohanek was off duty. She had found his address in the phone book 
and told the taxi driver to go there. Now she was blurting out the story of the last twelve hours to 
Frank Kohanek, not even caring if he was listening.
     Frank was at a loss. 
     "Caitlin," he said when she finished, "I understand that you're upset, but you can hardly do 
anything about it. Julian is... well, what he is. You have to accept that..."
     "How can you be so calm?" She was shaking her head in desperation. "Like it didn't matter."
     "Of course it matters," Frank retorted. "But I have accepted that they exist. They live among 
us, not hiding, yet they are perfectly invisible." Realizing that she was hardly listening, Frank took 
hold of her shoulders and shook her again. "Caitlin, don't do anything in a rush or you'll get into 
trouble." He looked at his watch. "Look, I'm on my way to meet the guy who sent that damn diary 
to Samuel Heims. You stay here and wait until I get back, then we can talk further." Yet he wasn't 
moving, afraid to leave her on her own. "Listen, why don't you come with me instead?"
     Caitlin didn't want to be left alone.
     "I'll go with you," she said.


     Cameron was starting to feel impatient: the cop was late. But he could afford to wait. After all, 
he was at home. Sasha was asleep just a couple of rooms away. Things were shaping up. If he were 
lucky, maybe he would get rid of Luna eventually.
     Cameron heard the car stop outside and the voices of his guards; then the door to the building 
was opened. Frank's steps were hardly audible in the corridor outside Cameron's office, but the 
clattering sound of high heels was unmistakable.
     Why has he brought a woman with him? Cameron wondered and rose from his chair as the 
door opened and the couple entered.
     Cameron's eyes bulged in surprise.
     "Caitlin!" he exclaimed. "What... what are you doing here?!"
     But Cameron didn't get any answer. Instead, Caitlin's face turned white and she froze in 
fright. They stared at each other for a short moment and then Caitlin started to scream.
     "It's him! It was him!" She pointed her finger accusingly at Cameron. "He raped me!" She 
turned and started to run. Cameron ran after her with incredible swiftness. Frank's attempt to stop 
the Brujah was brushed aside and his head hit the wall so hard that he almost fainted. He saw 
Cameron grab Caitlin's shoulder, forcing her to turn back.
     "Let me go!" she shouted.
     "Caitlin, please, listen to me!" Cameron was trying to reach her through her fear. "Caitlin, I 
never wanted to hurt you! You must believe me!"
     But she continued screaming, her fright unabated.
     "No! No! Leave me alone! Let me go!" She was struggling to get away, hitting and scratching 
him, while Cameron was trying to hold on to her and to stop her screams.
     Then, suddenly, there was silence.

     Frank had just gotten up on all four, his head still swimming. He saw Caitlin crumble on the 
floor, Cameron staring at her in disbelief. He looked at Frank and then at the motionless woman at 
his feet. At the same moment a door opened further down in the corridor and Sasha came out.
     "Cameron, what's going on?" she asked.
     She didn't receive any answer, but her voice broke through the Brujah's paralysis. Cameron 
ran past her and disappeared down the stairs.
     Frank was trying to understand what had happened. Caitlin had come to him looking for 
answers, searching for confirmation or maybe denial of her own suspicions, but Frank had had no 
time for her fears. He had suggested instead that she follow him to the meeting with the man who 
had sent the diskette with Amy's diary to Biggy. Frank would regret that suggestion for the rest of 
his life.
     He crept over the floor to Caitlin's side. Her eyes were wide open but she didn't see anything. 
The skin on her face was losing its warmth quickly. Her neck had snapped like a twig in 
Cameron's hands.
     Sasha's hand hovered over the phone, but she didn't touch it.
     "I can't," she whispered. "I can't do it!"
     "I understand you very well," Frank said, "but someone has to tell him, and I don't think I 
should be the one."
     Sasha looked at him, her eyes wide with fright. Then she nodded.
     "There's only one..." She picked up the phone and dialed the number.
     "Luna residence."
     "Uh... it's Sasha. Can you get me Daedalus?"
     "Who's Daedalus?" Frank asked while she was waiting, but she merely shook her head. 
     "Yes," was all the Nosferatu said.
     "Oh, Daedalus!" Sasha started to cry in spite of herself. "Please, come to the Brujah 
compound! Please, come at once!"
     "Sasha, what's happened?" The Nosferatu's calm voice didn't help. Sasha's crying became 
hysterical.
     "Please, Daedalus, please! Just come! Don't tell Julian!" She hung up, unable to say anything 
more.
     At the same moment the door was opened and Sonny came in.
     "Frank, it's my night off," he was saying. "What's so important...?" He stopped 
abruptly and his face turned gray. He stared at Caitlin's body, then at Frank and at last at Sasha.
     "Who?" was all he said.
     "Cameron." Sasha was whispering.
     "That's the end of the Brujah!" Sonny's voice started to shake. "Does Julian know?"
     Sasha shook her head.
     "I called Daedalus," Sasha answered. "He'll be here any minute. He'll have to tell Julian and 
take her to the mansion. I couldn't do it!" She hid her face in her hands.
     "Take her to the mansion?!" Frank exclaimed. "That's not the proper procedure. The 
investigation..."
     Sonny didn't let him continue.
     "What is there to investigate? he asked, his voice infinitely sad. "She's dead. Cameron killed 
her. I'll take care of the bureaucracy. I think Daedalus can take her home. Tell me exactly what's 
happened."
     It didn't take Frank long to describe the events that had led to Caitlin's death.
     "Look," he said in the end, "shouldn't we be chasing the murderer? He's getting further and 
further away by the minute."
     Sonny shook his head.
     "We'll find him," he said quietly. "Cameron is dead, he just hasn't figured it out yet."
     As it turned out, Daedalus was the only one who was fully aware of how much Caitlin meant 
to Julian, and his reaction disclosed that. He had materialized out of nowhere, scaring Frank witless; 
the Nosferatu's appearance was never appreciated by the mortals. He took in the scene in one 
glance, and walked over to where Caitlin's body lay. He kneeled beside her, his hands fluttered over 
her face for a few seconds and fell to his sides. He sighed heavily, his head bowed, then looked up 
at the others. Red tears were streaming down his face.
     "The Prince," he whispered. "Julian..."
     The Nosferatu let his hand move over his face and the tears disappeared.
     "We may lose our Prince," he said in a shaky voice. "I must take her home," he continued. "I 
must tell Julian..." His voice broke there.


     Although James Byrne had taken the first flight to Francisco without notifying anyone, a big, 
elderly man picked him up at the airport.
     "I'm Samuel Heims," the man presented himself and the astronomer recognized his voice.
     "You were the one who called me."
     "Yes."
     "Why didn't Julian...?"
     "He is in no shape to talk to anyone. I'm afraid he's trying very hard to die as well," the old 
man said dejectedly. "They are afraid that he might succeed."
     "What!?" Caitlin's father was shocked. Then a suspicion dawned on his mind. "Did he kill 
her?"
     "No!" Biggy shook his head. "The murderer has fled from the city. But we'll find him. You 
can be sure of that."
     Caitlin's body had not been taken to the morgue.
     Frank Kohanek met James Byrne when he arrived at the mansion.
     "I've identified your daughter officially," the policeman told Caitlin's father, "but if you want 
to see her..." His voice trailed off as if he was trying to prevent himself from crying. "I knew her," 
he added.
     James Byrne did want to see his daughter.
     Caitlin's body was still on the couch in her living room, uncovered, in the same position that 
Daedalus had left her after bringing her to the mansion. There were ugly, dark marks on her neck.
     "Has she been strangled?" James Byrne asked the policeman and Frank nodded. 
     "Has she... been harmed in any other way?"
     "No, not this time."
     "What do you mean?"
     "The man who did this... he has hurt her before. She recognized him. That's why he killed 
her." Frank was doing his best to control his voice. He wasn't succeeding very well.
     "How do you know that?" the astronomer asked.
     "I saw him do it!" Frank started to cry. "I could do nothing... nothing."
     James Byrne was let into the library.
     Julian was sitting in a chair near the fireplace, a young girl hovering at his side, several others 
kept in the background. He looked up and frowned when the astronomer called out his name, but 
didn't react in any other way. James Byrne had a feeling that Julian Luna didn't recognize him.
     He really is in shock, Caitlin's father thought.
     Slowly, he came closer and took hold of Julian's shoulders. The younger man blinked several 
times and tried to say something but all he could manage was inarticulate mumbling. Without a 
word, James Byrne hugged Julian who sagged in his arms. His face came to rest against the old 
man's cheek and James Byrne felt that Julian's skin was ice-cold. He took hold of Julian's hand. It 
was so cold that it might have belonged to a dead person. Furtively, the old man's fingers moved to 
the wrist. He could find no pulse there. He let go of Julian and looked into his face again. The 
deathly pallor, the unblinking eyes. James Byrne had an uncanny feeling that Julian Luna wasn't 
breathing either.
     The young girl caught his attention.
     "I'm Sasha," she said in a low voice. "I'm Julian's niece." She glanced at her uncle and 
frowned. "He won't talk to anyone. I'm sorry."
     The astronomer looked at Julian again. The girl was probably right. The young man was not 
present in this world.


     Daedalus made sure that someone was with the Prince all the time. Although Julian had not 
shown any inclination towards harming himself, the Nosferatu suspected that his friend would 
extinguish his life if he could. Of course, it is extremely difficult for a Kindred to commit suicide, 
but Daedalus hid all weapons, just in case.
     The real problem arose the next night, when the Nosferatu urged the Prince to get out to feed. 
Julian had lashed out in rage, making Daedalus sigh with relief. Even a fit of rage was better than 
the total apathy. 
     "Leave me alone!" Julian had shouted. "Why can't you leave me alone?!" 
     He broke down and started to cry. Daedalus? attempts at consolation were ignored, but in the 
end Julian was too exhausted to protest, and the Nosferatu managed to drag him out and force him 
to feed.
     Apart from the one outburst Julian seemed impossible to reach most of the time. He had no 
willpower left and would do whatever he was told to do. When he didn't sleep, he would just stare 
at nothing. Whatever was said to him had to be repeated several times before he took notice.
     Daedalus watched and worried.


     Cameron was surprised that he had managed to get as far as he had.
     It didn't really matter if the Prince had condemned him to Final Death and declared a Blood-
Hunt. Cameron knew that his life was forfeited in any case. As long as Julian Luna was alive, 
Cameron would be hunted.
     Right now he was alive because he had acted so swiftly.
     He had fled only minutes after he realized what he had done, and reached Sacramento before 
dawn. He resisted the temptation when the flight to Los Angeles was announced. Cyrus wouldn't 
be of much help. Instead Cameron boarded the first eastbound plane. He intended to get help from 
the Brujah Prince in Miami. Cameron wanted to leave the country, determined to lose himself 
somewhere in the Middle East or Europe. He was quite sure that America wasn't big enough for 
him to get away from Julian Luna's pursuit. Cameron had never been outside the United States. In 
fact, the only time he had left California was when the Prince had sent him to Miami. He was 
oblivious to the simple fact that he would be more visible anywhere outside his own country.
     By the end of the day he found himself in Amarillo. He was alone, out of his territory, and 
scared of his own shadow. He spotted some Gangrels that seemed to be looking for someone, so he 
fled from the airport and used the cover of night to get out of the city. He didn't dare stop to feed, 
although hunger made him increasingly weaker. He stole a car and drove south. The Mexican 
border couldn?t be too far away, he figured. He decided to get on a boat bound for Florida from some 
port on the east coast of Mexico. Cameron wasn't too good at geography and he had no map. 
     He drove all night and half of the next day. Then, when he saw a growth that would provide 
cover he decided to rest. He hid the car in the shade and fell asleep. When he woke up it was night 
again. His watch said ten o'clock. His hunger screamed with doubled force but he tried to ignore it. 
He hadn't seen any living creatures for the last hundred miles, and he didn't know when he would 
find humans again. He started south anew. After several hours he began to worry. There was 
nothing but the empty road and vastness on both sides of it: no lights, no buildings, nothing.
     Cameron didn't know that he was driving through Llano Estacado.

     Cameron screamed in rage.
     The car had broken down without any warning. It jumped, coughed and wheezed, and smoke 
came from under the hood; the engine died with one final groan. When Cameron lifted the hood, 
more black smoke welled out. He knew enough about cars to realize that it was probably the 
cylinder head gasket that had been destroyed. There was no way he could fix it without help. 
Cameron was stranded in the middle of an American desert, only dimly aware of his whereabouts, 
and he was too weak from hunger to shift-shape; he'd have to continue on foot. Maybe some car 
would come by and pick him up, it didn't really matter in which direction. But he started walking 
southward. His watch said a quarter past two. He had glanced at the clock in the car before he 
abandoned it. The soft green display had showed four fifteen. Cameron shrugged at that. He trusted 
his own watch more. He decided to walk for three or four hours and then find some shelter. To stay 
out in the open during the day might prove fatal. If necessary, he would dig a hole in the ground.
     Cameron had walked for a little more than an hour when he noticed that the sky over the 
eastern horizon started to lighten up. 
     Was there a city just beyond the horizon? Was he seeing its lights?
     He turned east, sighing with relief. But only twenty minutes later the thin crest of the morning 
sun rose above the arid ground. Cameron stared at it uncomprehending and then looked at his 
watch.
     "What the hell!!!" he shouted.
     The realization struck him with terror. Cameron had totally forgotten that he had crossed two 
time zones flying east. The car clock had shown the right Texan time. The sun was rising on this 
bright December morning, painting the forbidding desert in the most beautiful colors. Cameron 
turned with an oath and started running back. Within minutes the merciless rays made his skin 
burst into flames and he knew that he'd never make it back to the car. He raised his arms in a futile 
attempt to protect his face and watched with horror as his hands caught fire. He screamed in agony.
     The vultures circled for almost an hour over the cinders, but decided eventually that there was 
nothing left for them and flew away.
     Cameron's remains were found and identified only a few hours after the sunset that same day 
by a team of two Gangrels and a Nosferatu. Julian Luna's, or rather Daedalus?, intelligence had 
been working overtime and had surpassed itself. 
     Cameron would never have made it to Miami in any case.


     James Byrne decided to bury his daughter next to her mother in the small cemetery a mere six 
miles from his home. He braced himself, expecting protests from Julian Luna but none came. In 
fact, Julian didn't react to anything, agreeing by default to everything that was suggested. He'd sign 
any paper that was put in front of him without reading it. The people who lived in the mansion 
seemed to be in charge of everything. The young girl, Sasha, was in charge of Julian. He would do 
whatever she told him to do; but quite often he seemed not to hear her, as if his mind had wandered 
off into another dimension.
     The old astronomer didn't even know who took care of the funeral arrangements; but 
everything was prepared according to his wishes on the day of Caitlin's burial. James Byrne 
watched as the jet landed at the Seattle airport. He saw the casket being carried out, followed by 
Julian, his niece at his side. The policeman, Frank Kohanek, and the big man, Samuel Heims, came 
behind them. Sasha was supporting her uncle as they walked towards the car that had come for 
them. James Byrne intercepted them before they reached the big, foreign vehicle.
     "Please, Julian, I want you to come with me," he said.
     Julian looked up at Caitlin's father and his absent expression changed into one of pain.
     "James," his voice was a hoarse whisper, "I'm so sorry."
     He started towards the older man but stumbled after a few steps and lost his balance. Sasha, 
who had been holding Julian's elbow, stretched her other arm across his midriff, preventing him 
from falling. James Byrne stared in surprise, wondering how the short, slim girl could hold up a 
man without any visible strain.
     The astronomer took Julian's hand when they were seated in the car. It lay in his grip, limp 
and cold as a dead thing, and he tried to rub some warmth into it.
     "Julian!" Sasha, who sat on the other side, nudged her uncle. He looked at her frowning, and 
she nodded toward his hand. His eyes followed her gaze and within seconds James Byrne felt 
Julian's hand become warm.
     How odd, the old man thought.
     Every now and then the astronomer would cast a worried glance at Julian during the service. 
The young man didn't seem to notice what was going on around him. His eyes were unfocused, 
and he moved only when Sasha made him react to her prodding. She kept her arm around his waist, 
her grief-stricken face contrasting with Julian's listlessness.
     Nick Marliss came forth afterwards and did his best to stare Julian down. Seeing that he 
would have more success in staring down a statue, he looked askance at Sasha until she felt 
compelled to say something.
     "I'm Julian's niece," she said. "My name is Sasha."
     "Uh, niece?" Nick's voice betrayed his doubt and Julian reacted at last. His eyes shimmered 
green for a split second and his back straightened.
     "There's no reason for you to be rude," Julian said in a clear, high-pitched voice. "None at 
all."
     Frank Kohanek came to Julian?s side immediately.
     "Back off!" he snarled.
     The two policemen faced each other, but Nick would not back off.
     "I knew that you'd get her killed!" Nick had turned back to Julian. "Why couldn't you leave 
her alone?!"
     Julian Luna flinched as if Nick had slapped him in the face, then tried to regain his 
composure.
     "We don't control our fate," he said quietly. "No more than you do. If you can see into the 
future... it's your curse. Fortunately, I can't."
     As Julian was turning away, Nick started after him but Frank caught his arm.
     "Leave him alone!" Frank demanded. "He had nothing to do with Caitlin's death."
     "What do you mean?" Nick asked.
     "Exactly that. She was killed by a guy who had hurt her before. She recognized him, that's 
why he murdered her." Frank's voice filled with pain at the memory. "Julian Luna had nothing to 
do with it!"
     Only it's not true! Julian had heard Frank's explanation. I'm the very reason for Caitlin's 
death. I made her remember Cameron?s voice. Out of petty jealousy! 
     He stumbled again, but Sasha was there to keep him upright. James Byrne took Julian?s other 
arm.
     "Let's get out of here before you harm yourself," he said.
     Julian Luna did not participate in the reception after Caitlin's funeral. 


     James Byrne noticed that Sasha, Frank and Samuel were standing in a corner, talking quietly 
to each other. It was the first time that Caitlin?s father saw the young girl parted from her uncle and 
it worried him. He approached her as soon as he got rid of the priest who was trying to offer some 
consolation.
     "Where's Julian?"
     "He locked himself up in Caitlin?s room," Sasha answered.
     "That's impossible!" the astronomer retorted. "There's no key."
     The girl shrugged dejectedly.
     "He told me to leave him alone."
     "He won't try to harm himself, will he?" James Byrne asked with apprehension.
     "He can't... " Sasha started but then checked herself. "I don't think so," she continued. "But 
we've been watching over him ever since... it happened. He's entitled to some privacy." She turned 
away, hiding her tears.

     At last everybody was gone.
     James Byrne looked at Sasha and Frank. They were just sitting there, waiting, apparently 
prepared to wait all night if necessary. The big man had disappeared. The old astronomer slowly 
climbed the stairs to his daughter's room. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He 
knocked again and entered. Julian was curled up on Caitlin's bed. For a fleeting moment James 
Byrne had an impression that a big, black cat was nestled in his daughter's bed. He called Julian's 
name softly, prepared to repeat it, but the young man sat up abruptly, his movement startlingly swift. 
His hand moved over his face and came away red with blood.
     "What have you done to yourself!?" James Byrne exclaimed with fear.
     Julian Luna looked at his palm, blinking in surprise, then looked up at the old man.
     "I... I must have bitten my lip," he said hesitantly. He tried to wipe his face with both hands, 
making the mess even worse.
     James Byrne went to the bathroom and came back with a wet towel.
     "Here." He watched intently as Julian cleaned himself.
     There was no trace of injury: not on Julian's face, not on his neck, nor on his wrists. The old 
man exhaled with relief.
     "You aren't trying to do yourself any harm, are you?"
     "I can't..." Julian stopped in mid-sentence just as Sasha had. "No. No more harm can come to 
me." After a moment he continued, "I wish to be alone."
     "Sure." James Byrne nodded. "Just one thing. The man... the one who killed Caitlin, has he 
been apprehended?"
     Julian shook his head.
     "No, he escaped."
     "Escaped?"
     "He ran fast... got halfway across the United States before he got lost in the desert and died 
there. His... remains have been found and identified."
     "So, he's dead." James Byrne nodded with satisfaction. "He's got his punishment."
     But Julian shook his head with vehemence.
     "No, he escaped," he said angrily. "Escaped into the final death," he declared to the bewildered 
astronomer who didn't dare to ask for an explanation.
     Frank slept on the couch in the living room; Sasha was given the guestroom. 
     No one disturbed Julian Luna during the night. They waited for him in the morning, sipping 
tea in the kitchen, talking in subdued voices. Frank told Caitlin's father all that he could about her 
death. He confirmed Julian's statement about Cameron?s demise. It was the first time that James 
Byrne heard the murderer's name.
     "He sounded, I mean, Julian sounded angry that this Cameron had died," the astronomer 
commented.
     The policeman smiled at that.
     "Angry?" he retorted. "He was mad as hell when they told him. As Julian sees it, Cameron has 
escaped justice. Although I must say, he died a terrible death. Burnt up in the desert."
     "Burnt up?"
     "Uhuh..." Frank hesitated, embarrassed and afraid that he had said too much. "You know, the 
sun in the desert... it's rather... formidable." He was trying to smooth over his indiscretion.
     Julian came down at last, to everybody's surprise, as impeccable as ever. Whatever he had been 
through during the night was hidden under a bland expression. But they soon saw that 
beneath the spotless appearance there was emptiness. Julian Luna had again locked himself away 
from the world of the living.


     Julian Luna wasn't a financial wizard; he had always been too conservative for that. But in 
spite of his caution he had been able to amass quite a fortune over the decades. It had stayed intact 
as he had always benefited from Archon's generosity. And Archon had been rich. Now, after 
Archon's death, being his sole heir, Julian found himself immensely wealthy. Not only as the 
Prince of San Francisco, but also because his personal assets were vast.
     In order to occupy himself during the daytime, Julian started to take a more active part in his 
many enterprises. Since his only reason for doing it was to take his mind off the loss of Caitlin, he 
was able to conduct business with the calm assurance of someone to whom making money isn?t a 
goal in itself.
     And he did well, using almost all profits for the care and welfare of the Kindred. Even the 
Brujahs couldn't complain anymore.
     To Daedalus? surprise, the Prince worked harder than he had ever done before. No matter was 
too insignificant for him to take care of personally. He immersed himself in all sorts of activities, 
making sure that he was busy every minute he was awake.
     He's keeping the grief at bay, Daedalus concluded with relief.
     Yet, Julian Luna wasn't all that successful in commanding his thoughts. Every now and then 
his gaze would lose its focus, his hands would start to shake and he would turn deathly pale. If 
there were witnesses in such moments, they would realize with dread that the full impact of the 
tragedy had surfaced again. Whenever that happened, Julian would lock himself away for hours, 
sometimes days, on end.
     The passing of time didn?t alter the pattern, and although there was nothing in Julian?s 
performance at his duties to complain about, Daedalus became more and more worried about the 
Prince's sanity.
     The mansion had never been a center of gaiety, but now it reminded the Nosferatu of a tomb. Julian 
Luna's social life became non-existent, and he didn't seem to notice the ladies who were trying to 
catch his attention. Lillie, showing wisdom uncommon in a Toreador, shunned Julian as if he had 
the plague.
     The Kindred of San Francisco had never been as prosperous and well behaved as nowadays. 
For the first time in more than a century, all clans were in absolute accord: they had a Prince that 
was worth his title. The fact that Julian Luna was aware of their opinion did not affect his 
gloominess.
     Julian, who had always been aware of the Nosferatu?s presence, didn't seem to notice that 
Daedalus had been watching him for almost an hour.
     The Nosferatu Primogen didn't like what he saw.
     The triumphant Prince of the City, he was thinking. All resistance squashed. Alone, bitter and 
profoundly unhappy.
     "I wish there was something I could say. Something I could do," Daedalus said at last and 
Julian looked up, blinking in surprise. But he gathered his wits instantly.
     "There's nothing you can do or say, Daedalus." His voice was expressionless. "Nothing at 
all."
     But the Nosferatu wouldn't give up.
     "The time..." he started, but his voice wouldn?t obey him and he had to clear his throat before 
he could speak again.
     "Julian, when you have lived as long as I have, you'll know that there is nothing permanent 
except for the eternal hunger."
     But the Prince merely looked at him, apparently refusing to comprehend.
     "Face it, the eternal hunger is all there is in the end," Daedalus repeated angrily. "Snap out of 
it!" The Nosferatu had to fight the urge to slap Julian's face. To hit a Prince wouldn't do. Not even 
the Nosferatu Primogen could allow himself such familiarity.
     "Daedalus," Julian's voice was accusing, "you used to chide me because I didn't care. Then, I 
did care... Look where it got me."
     Daedalus winced at that, thinking, one can be slapped with words. He had always been the 
one to make the Prince start at his pointed remarks. He wished now that that he could make some of 
his comments unsaid. How many times had he scoffed at Julian's reckless affairs? All starting with 
that special glimmer in his eyes at the sight of a beautiful face, all ending more or less disastrously. 
Archon would rave in rage, accusing Julian of endangering the Masquerade. Daedalus had hated 
their rows: their angry voices shouting at each other; the women's tears; the sulking, until it all 
slowly settled down, ending with the Prince's shrug of 'I don't care?'.
     But now, Daedalus wished for that shrug. The shrug that said it's over, let's move on. It had 
not come, and Daedalus knew with terrifying certainty that it wouldn't come anytime soon, if ever. 
He even wished for the angry shouts and fits of rage, anything that would shatter the apathy, chase 
away the dullness from Julian's eyes.
 
 

Back
Next