Time: October 22, the same evening as "Insight".
Gothic instrumentals play in the background as Julian Luna paces the floor of his study, reading over the letters of introduction he had received regarding the Tremeres' request to take up residency in the San Francisco area. "Hmmm, I guess I should be impressed if the Tremere pontifexs speak so highly of you, Thorne," he muses to himself. "I'm not sure *why* you're here, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."
He stops at the desk and shuffles through some papers, putting down the two in his hand and picking up a third. "Although the Ventrue in London don't have anything nice to say about the Tremere," he continues, talking aloud to an empty room. He continues reading the personal letter from London's prince, Lady Anne. "Still, the Ventrue in London don't have anything nice to say about anyone other than themselves. Wonder why you left there, Thorne?"
There is a knock on the door of the study. "My lord?" Cash inquires.
"Is it time already," Julian says, looking at his watch. "Yes, Cash, come in."
The Gangrel steps into the room, dressed more formally than usually in pressed black denim slacks, polished low boots and a black button-down shirt. "I just wanted to remind you of the time, my lord."
"Thank you, I'm just about ready," Julian picks up his suit coat, turning as he does to catch a glimpse of Cash. He lets out a low whistle. "You look particularly nice." [Business first, Luna.]
Cash smiles, crossing to take the fine Armani wool from Julian's hands, holding it for him to shrug into. "Just putting it on for the new boys in town. They should be here any minute, Stone will phone from the gate when Michael gets here with them."
The phone on the prince's desk ring, internal line, Cash answers it. "Cash." There is a quick pause. "Thank you, Mike. I'll tell him." Cash turns to Julian. "They are here."
Julian slips his arms into the suit coat and buttons it. "We'll meet them in the foyer, then move to the conclave room to talk," he says, walking toward the door. "I want to get a feel for these Tremere before I sit down with them. And, oh Cash, let's make sure they're not carrying anything they shouldn't be." [I'm hoping I can trust Thorne.]
Cash, nods. [As if I would let *any* unknown Kindred next to the prince with a weapon in hand.]
Thorne glances back at the massive bear of a man in the back seat and smiles. "We'll be out of this cramped space soon, Hunter," he assures the tall, scrunched up figure in the back of the Land Rover, the vehicle the Prince sent to bring them to the mansion. The vehicle pauses as the massive iron gates glide apart.
Davic Ellysson, Thorne's second, looks a bit nervously toward the mansion looming as the Land Rover pulls up to the door. "Master..."
But Thorne Severan already knows his lover's concerns. Heedless of the silent Ventrue driver, he murmurs, "Davic, I have explained this to you already. You are to strictly follow my lead. Neither of you are here to guard me, do you understand?" His eyes soften as he takes Davic's chin in his hand. "Don't worry about me, love."
"Someone should," Davic mutters, getting out of the vehicle with them after it stops in the courtyard.
Thorne smiles at the comment, then sobers, looking up at the doors. The day has finally come.
Cash takes a deep breath as Daedalus opens the door for him. In a muttered aside, he comments to the Nosferatu, "If it *is* a trap...?"
Daedalus catches the Gangrel's eyes, and nods "They won't get through me to him, Cash."
Cash paces down the stairs to the waiting Land Rover, two normal Kindred stand there, and one huge 'something'.
Thorne stands still, his feet apart, the huge Hunter to his right, Davic to his left. Both Tremere are dressed in black tunics, black pants. Thorne alone wears the Tremere sigil pin, and the primogen signet ring. Hunter is shuffling back and forth, totally hating the flannel shirt, pants and shoes he must wear.
Julian stands in the foyer with the Nosferatu primogen off his right shoulder. He straightens the black tie at the center of the royal blue shirt one last time and clasps his hands in front of him. "Daedalus," he says, barely turning his head, "you know Severan. Can I take him at his word?"
Cash scents the air, discretely... Michael - feeling rather on edge, a slight scent of fear. The scent, long ago smelled, but never forgotten of the Tremere, more mortal, yet more coppery than the other clans, and... [No, it's not a Nosferatu, not a lupine], not *anything* Cash knows.
Thorne stands patiently as the Gangrel approaches, his expression benign. He is aware of the other's bewilderment as he looks Hunter over. "He's a Gargoyle," he offers helpfully. "This is his human aspect."
Hunter gives the Gangrel a weak grin. "Hi." He's easily 6'8" tall, massively muscular and hairy, with bushy black hair and eyebrows.
Cash discretely motions to Stone. His second is at least tall enough to reach the thing's chin.
"He is *not* for protection," Thorne adds softly, as the Gangrel looks them over.
"Welcome to Camera della Luna, gentlemen." Cash's voice is grave, but nothing more. "I am Cash, of the Clan Gangrel and one of my duties is to provide the prince's security. May I assume that you are unarmed?"
Thorne opens his hands. "We are unarmed. But I know you do not assume that, Cash. Please, for your Prince's sake, make sure."
"I think you can take what he says at face value, Julian," Daedalus says, leaning forward. "I don't trust him explicitly, but I have no reason to think he would mean you harm."
Cash inwardly sighs in relief, he by no means intended to offend, but Julian *had* given him explicit orders. In an aside to Stone, "Brother, see to the *gargoyle*, if you would." Cash approaches Thorne. "By your leave, then, sir." He gently runs his hands over the front and sides of the Tremere's body.
Thorne would like to add, 'Grope away' to the handsome wild Gangrel, but he refrains. [Some other time.]
The magus holds his arms out, submitting to the search, and his two followers immediately ape him.
Cash runs his hands down the blond Kindred's legs, then lightly up the insides, nearly kneeling at his feet.
A quick inrush of breath at the Gangrel's position... then Thorne, smothering a smirk, has himself in control again. [Oh, Thorne, not now... be good...]
Standing again, still the brisk professional, Cash leans in to run his hand to the small of Thorne's back, his cheek just barely brushes the front of the dark tunic, where Thorne's brooch is pinned. At the contact with the warded metal, Cash jerks back, with a slight shake of his head.
Thorne immediately looks at the Gangrel with concern. "It's warded," he murmurs, looking at him curiously. [Something of the mage in this one?]
Cash nods. "Purely protective, I am sure," the Gangrel mutters. [No immediate threat to Julian, though I will be sure he has it with him when he leaves.]
"Yes, as is my ring." Thorne indicates his signet ring. "I can leave these with you, if you like."
Cash considers that for a long second. [If I were in uneasy territory, would I give up my wards..... probably not.] "That will not be necessary, sir. And thank you for your patience."
It is no threat to Thorne to be without his warded signs. "You're welcome," he replies, with a little bow, primogen to primogen.
Cash goes to Davic, and quickly repeats his actions, thanking the other Tremere just as graciously. Cash's manners, learned under Archon's heavy hand, are often not displayed, but never forgotten.
Checking with a single glance at Stone that the Gargoyle carries no weapons, [not that he would need any....] Cash gestures to the stairs. "Gentlemen, the prince awaits you."
Davic, of course, hasn't a thing on him that would concern the Gangrel, but he is visibly relieved when the search is over.
Thorne gestures to his assistants to follow him, and he follows the Gangrel primogen up the staircase.
[JULIAN!! He says this thing is a Gargoyle!!! - what the hell is THAT!!!] Cash wishes he shared a bond with the Nosferatu, he is sure that Daedalus has, at least, *heard* of Gargoyles. His rather loud mental missive startles Julian, who shakes his head slightly.
[What?! Oh, Gargoyle ... relax, Cash. He's one of Thorne's assistants. You can ask Daedalus all about them later.]
[It's *huge*, makes Stone look like a midget!!!]
The party reaches the landing at the front door, Daedalus opens the massive glass doors with their etched wolf heads. Cash steps aside to let the prince's guests enter ahead of him.
The magus nods to Daedalus, a faint smile on his lips. "Good evening, Daedalus."
"Thorne." The Nosferatu nods to the Tremere. "May I present you to the Prince of the City, Julian Luna? Julian, Dr. Thorne Severan."
Thorne comes straight in to the Prince, a light in his eyes, still smiling faintly. He isn't sure of his reception, but he wants to present an amicable image. "My lord, Julian, thank you for seeing me," he murmurs, coming before the Prince.
Julian nods, extending his hand with signet ring showing. "Severan," he says, the tone neither friendly nor hostile.
The Tremere immediately takes the hand of the Prince, bows and touches his forehead to the back of it, then kisses the knuckles reverently. "My prince, if you will have me," he whispers to Julian.
In a flash, he senses the wards of other clans on the Prince's ring beneath his lips: Ventrue, Toreador, Gangrel, Nosferatu. Not... Brujah. [Interesting...] he notes as he straightens.
[So pleasant. Does the smile hide something? Or are you truly a friend?] Julian is slightly on edge. His knowledge of the Tremere is that of any Kindred ... they are not to be trusted. Yet this one is so amicable, so familiar, using his first name on first meeting.
"My Lord, my second, Davic Ellysson..." Thorne introduces his clansman.
"My Lord," Davic hurriedly repeats as he copies Thorne's actions over the hand of the prince.
"Ellysson," Julian acknowledges, pleased at the manners Thorne has taught his second.
Thorne waves forward his huge pet. "And this is Hunter, my lord," he adds as the Gargoyle approaches. "A Gargoyle and one of my assistants."
Cash's nose flares as the Gargoyle brushes past him. [It smells of blood majik, Julian.]
"Lord," Hunter mumbles, and manages to take the Prince's hand with careful precision in his massive hand. He also repeats the ritual, then straightens, a huge grin suddenly on his face.
Julian looks up at the Gargoyle, trying not to look too impressed by the massive demi-human. [Calm, little one ... show nothing other than strength.] "Hunter."
Thorne looks on the Gargoyle fondly, and gestures for him to move aside as he faces Julian again. [Good pet, so careful, a reward for you at home, surely,] Thorne thinks to his large friend.
Cash's hand has slipped to the small of his back, though what use steel against something that big, he has no idea. He just knows that having something reeking of blood majik touching his prince makes him nervous.
The Tremere notes the Gangrel's body language, and notes how his "pet" also gives the Gangrel a curious look, probably sensing his nervousness around him. He pats the arm of the big man to help calm him down.
"Very rare in these latter days are the Gargoyles, Severan." Daedalus interjects.
Cash, noting Daedalus's calm acceptance, settles back into "parade rest", though his hand still curls around the hilt of his hidden knife, more for his own reassurance.
Thorne nods and immediately replies, "The alliance has only been re-established less than a hundred years ago. A great day of reconciliation, that was."
He smiles at something internal, and adds, "Most still live in their homeland in Transylvania. We are fortunate to have a few with us."
"And how does he serve you?" Julian asks, just the hint of a smile creeping across his lips.
[A FEW!!!! there's more than one of these things!!!] The Gangrel is near to panic.
The magus looks into the dark eyes of the prince. "They serve us... well. But they are more than servants now, my lord. Hunter is a good friend and a valuable member of my staff."
Julian returns the gaze, careful not to look too deeply into Thorne's eyes. "Good friends are a rare commodity," he pauses, "especially among our kind. You are fortunate."
Cash and Daedalus each, separately, send an unvoiced tide of love and support winging to the prince.
"One can always use friends, yes, my lord," the Tremere primogen comments. "Gargoyles are not Kindred though they accept freely being under our laws." He wants to add more, wants to offer friendship to the Prince, but knows that is far down the line. [It will be worth going through this,] he reminds himself.
The Tremere primogen senses mental pulses being exchanged, but he firmly keeps himself relaxed, knowing he cannot use power to either read them or to send to any but his own, not yet. There must not be an intrusion of that sort.
Julian ponders the Tremere before him. Beautiful? Yes, quite. Dangerous? Likely. And Julian Luna had always been intrigued by that combination. [Perhaps, someday, I will call you friend.] "But I believe you came here for a purpose, Severan," Julian begins, asserting control. "Tell me *why* exactly do you petition for residency here ... in my city." There is an edge in his voice, not malevolence, but more one of a desire to believe the Tremeres' intentions are honorable.
Thorne looks down at the Prince, reading his protective stance, and sighs. [And he's starting in while we're still standing in the foyer,] he thinks. [Not good. But then I knew he wasn't going to make it easy.]
"Perhaps we should move to somewhere more private to continue this conversation," the prince says, motioning to the open door to their left.
[Whew.] Thorne nods in relief, then bows and gestures for the Prince to proceed him.
Julian walks silently into the conclave room, followed by the Tremeres then Daedalus and Cash. He sits in his chair at the head of the table.
Daedalus and Cash silently take up positions standing behind Julian, Daedalus to his right, Cash at his customary position at the prince's left shoulder.
Thorne smoothly takes the chair at the opposite end of the table, while his second, Davic, remains standing at the right shoulder of his sire. The Gargoyle, responding to a quick mental request from his master, settles on the floor next to Thorne's chair.
"To answer your question, my lord," Thorne begins, folding his hands in front of him on the table, "I chose San Francisco because of your dedication to the Camarilla and the Masquerade. I know you would be fair to us and that you, too, value peace between the clans." He looks straight across into Julian's eyes. "Perhaps you have heard of the turmoil in England..."
"Yes, I have. Lady Anne wrote to me recently. It seems the Tremere and Ventrue there cannot come to terms," Julian begins. "I am honored that you think so highly of our city as to seek sanctuary here."
Thorne nods, somber. "My lord, the truth of it is that we had to break with our clansmen there, as others have. This war with the Ventrue is counterproductive and threatens the Masquerade. We had to leave that environment." He tensed, thinking of his last words with the Pontifex there, harsh indeed. And though the Council had declared that pontifex Anarch, the sting of having to defy that mob mentality had taken a toll.
Thorne continues, earnest but speaking evenly. "My Order is dedicated to researching the practices and sciences of my Clan. We seek to settle here to continue that work."
[And that is *all* I'm about,] Thorne thinks, not even sharing the thought with his lover, so carefully rigid at his side. [That and pleasure.]
Cash's hand creeps out of that formal parade rest position of his and slips onto the back of Julian's chair, knuckles just touching shoulder. Memories of the clan war that brought him to Julian's side slide in and quickly out of the Gangrel's thoughts.
"Such as blood magic," Julian comments matter-of-factly, trying to echo the lack of emotion the Tremere is showing. "I don't want *my* city turning into a playground for Tremere warlocks."
A warmth rushes through Julian's body at the light touch of his lover. [Later, Cash ... I promise.]
Daedalus frowns at the mention of the Tremere practices. Cash stiffens, his hand tightening on the prince's chair, the hair on the back of his neck rises....
Thorne, to his own surprise, smiles. "*I* don't want your city turning into a playground for Tremere magus, my lord. But then that is not likely to happen, as our rituals are strictly controlled by our own internal laws. *I* make all determinations what 'magicks' occur and when. And if." He sits back in his chair, leaving one hand on the table, the one bearing his signet ring. "It will interest you to know that the members of the Order of Knives are blood bonded to me."
Daedalus' brows rise at that flat statement. "Unusual among your clan, is that not?"
Thorne lifts his eyes to the Nosferatu. "Yes. The Council of Seven lifted the ban only ten years ago. It is still not widely accepted among the Tremere. I chose that route because of the nature of our work. It would be dangerous to have one practicing magick and not under a system of... controls."
"A blood bond does not bother me, particularly one within your own clan," Julian adds, musing on the bonds he shares with others. "It is your design on others that concerns me."
The Tremere gazes again at the Prince, the blood slowly leaving his face. "My lord," he says quietly, "the research entails cataloguing and laboratory studies of blood samples procured through conventional means. Our rituals are largely used for surveillance and protection." His voice drops. "I have no designs on... others."
[Save your enemies, my sweet prince,] Thorne considers, groping around mentally for the composure he just lost. Focusing on the beauty of the prince would help recover that a little.
Davic, beside his sire, tenses, sensing through the blood bond his master's momentary discomfort. [Sire?]
[Stand still, Vic, they are watching us very carefully...] Thorne cautions his second.
"And your 'conventional means' are well within the boundaries of the Masquerade, I assume," Julian says, less of a question that a statement. [I'm not so sure who your designs are on, Thorne Severan. Perhaps me?] He smiles, staring across the table at the Tremere.
"Well... within," Thorne replies. He rubs his thumb against the band of his ring, which calms him a little. It was shocking, a moment ago, to essentially be suspected of experimenting on Kindred or mortals.
"My lord, the blood bonding in my Order, ensures that discipline is maintained among the magus. There will be no 'designs' allowed on anyone. And I am willing to place all of mine firmly under the hand of the Prince of the City." He nods toward Julian in respect.
[And if my head be required under your hand, Julian,] Thorne thinks, somberly, [so be it. I know we must scare you to hell, damn it. Curse our reputation...]
Julian rests his elbows on the table, clasping his hands and resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. "In this city, *I* am the law. If you reside here, it is at my will." Julian's eyes seem darker, deeper if that's possible. "You and *all* in your chantry come under my hand."
Cash moves uneasily behind Julian's chair, that tone of voice, gentle but implacable, reminds him most of Archon.
"May I presume that you will seek a seat with the primogens?" Somewhere in all that, though, there is a smirk, a gentle knowing smile. "If I *choose* to grant your petition, and allow the Tremere to pursue their work here, what is in it for me? What guarantees do I have that you will abide by your word and not the reputation of your clan?"
Thorne closes his eyes briefly, as the Prince speaks, then opens them, just barely showing a glint of silver. "My lord, if you have the need, my eyes will be your eyes. My ears will be your ears. I will stand with you against your enemies. And our *science* as well, if you should need it."
He leans forward again, steepling his fingers. "And I am serving you already, my prince. I have brought with me critical information about a threat to the Masquerade and the Camarilla in this city that I literally stumbled across. I offer it to you now, in good faith."
Hunter stiffens. His master will be telling the prince about the... Kindred? who had lured him out of the sky. He shivered, thinking about it.
Davic, too, tenses. Thorne has not told him of the identity of his assailant.
"You have my attention, Severan," Julian says, leaning forward. "Perhaps you will prove your worth after all. Proceed."
Cash's nostrils flare at the fear-scent coming off the Tremere's strange creature [What could make it/him afraid?]
There is a lot Thorne could tell Julian, in fact, or could ask him about... like a certain psychically gifted mortal from the Cascade, Washington police department... He nods to the prince, and launches into his explanation.
"There are... beings, my lord," Thorne begins. Mentally he touches his two associates, willing them to calmness before their hosts. "Immortal. Not Kindred. They have existed longer than Kindred, it is thought. One might properly call them vampires. The true Undead..."
Hunter, despite his master's mental touch, lets out a whimper.
Thorne immediately puts his hand to the Gargoyle's head to reassure him. "One called Hunter out of the sky a couple nights ago. And interrupted our scrying, sensing our gathered power."
Daedalus shifts in his chair, uneasy. [Julian, the power to disrupt an entire chantry is considerable.]
[The wolves with golden eyes] Julian thinks back to the images the mortals had brought to them. "I had heard rumors of others," Julian says calmly, internally steeling himself. "Go on. Did they harm your companion?"
Thorne catches something in Julian's expression. "No, Hunter is fine. Rumors, lord? Does the image of strange wolves with gold-green eyes mean anything to you?" Thorne stirs in his chair, putting aside for the moment his tenuous status here. "Or a raven or a black jaguar?"
Julian wonders, [Frank..... and Jim - did they miss Blair?]
"There were wolves with silver eyes..." The magus is reading from his spirit image, momentarily apart from the room he is in, his mind touching that image again. "And one lone timber wolf, companion to the jaguar? Not Kindred..."
[Do I trust you? I have no choice.] "Thorne," Julian says, consciously using the Tremere's first name, for the conversation has evolved into a more familiar level. "We, too, have seen these images ... some familiar to us, others not. What do they mean to you?"
Daedalus leans forward slightly, [He is *elsewhere*, Julian, in a trance]
Thorne puts out a hand, connecting again with the real world. "I know those strange wolves," he murmured, coming back from the vision.
"Who are they? And how do they threaten the Masquerade?" Julian is blunt, although entranced by the sight of Thorne's vision. The Ventrue has always had a pull for the mystical, the mysterious. "Thorne, tell me what you can."
Taking a deep breath, he continues, gazing again at the prince across the table from him. "My prince, do you know the name 'Lucien Lacroix'? Archon did."
"I have heard the name," he says, turning to recall what his sire told him of the non-Kindred creature. "Archon knew him ... not well, but they were acquaintances."
Thorne steadies himself, folding his hands again. "Lord, he is in your city with his son, Nicholas. I could sense two others as well. If you know of him, you know he is not one to respect the Masquerade." He hesitates, wondering if he should mention the rest to Julian. It was going to be hard to explain why he let himself be tortured by Lacroix.
"They have settled here, apparently," he adds thoughtfully. "You might want to speak to him..."
Thorne's description brings back Archon's words to him. "Yes, I remember Archon saying this Lacroix reveled in taking mortal victims." Julian senses Thorne's hesitancy and does something unexpected. He stands, pushing his chair back and walks to the other end of the table, standing beside Thorne. "Is there something we should discuss more privately?"
Thorne freezes momentarily. [If I can get you to understand this, Julian, it will be a miracle.] "Yes," he sighs. To his assistants, Thorne directs, harsher than he normally would, not willing to put up with whining, [Leave us.]
[Julian, you can't mean to be alone with him.] Cash protests.
[It is all right, my love. I will be fine. And you are never far from me.] He reassures the Gangrel. "Daedalus, Cash, if you would, please, leave us alone.
The Gargoyle whimpers more, pawing at his master, "Master Thorne..."
"I said leave us," Thorne murmurs tightly in a tone they know too well. Davic and Hunter leave with the two primogen, heads downcast. This is not good.
Daedalus just bows and leads the way into hallway. Cash, looking daggers at Thorne, follows reluctantly.
After the room has cleared, Julian sits down in the chair next to Thorne. "Now, we are alone. What exactly is the threat these vampires pose?" he asks, cutting to the chase.
Thorne is unable to look at him now. "Lacroix has no respect for our Kind, no interest in our law, lord." He aches to just call him Julian, just speak freely to him "I... did something rather extreme in order to learn what I could about him."
"You sought to make yourself indispensable ... even before your petition had been granted," Julian smiles broadly, a wee bit wickedly. "I like that. Speak freely, Thorne. What did you do to serve the prince you owed no homage to?" A small part of him wants to touch the blond mane, just to see if this Kindred is for real.
The Tremere primogen senses rather than sees the smile, just as he senses the nearness of the other, his scent and the faint heartbeat that indicates that he's fed recently. Turning to face him more fully, Thorne looks up and into those dark pools again. "I... allowed him to torture me, my prince," he says as if in a dream. "It won me the name of his son and a sample of his blood which we are examining. It may be critical to learn more about his physiology."
"Torture? For me?" Julian reaches out and touches Thorne's hand. "Was it worth it?"
Thorne takes the fingers in his, and squeezes. His voice reveals his frustration with this whole process. "Julian, I considered you my prince the moment I stepped foot in your city. If I can be of service to my prince, it is always worth it." He then releases the other's hand, folding his back together on the table, physically putting himself back into the context of the visit. [Settle... petition...]
"You already have been of great service, Thorne," Julian says, absorbing the energy flowing between them, reveling in a moment for the unexpected closeness, "by allowing me insight into my enemies." Then they are back, prince and primogen. "I will not forget."
Thorne has a brief moment of psychic flux, as if seeing something back on the spirit plane, or even of the future. "Thank you, lord..." Something new is allowed to enter his voice, a kind of reverence. This prince is everything he'd been told he'd be... and more. [Oh, hell, he can take me now... but there's apparently something going on with the Gangrel... still, if I could ever...] He sighs.
"Your petition is granted," Julian says solemnly, dropping back into the princely mindset. "As long as you abide by my laws, you and yours are welcome in my city." [Not anywhere near as bad as your reputation, Tremere. Worth exploring.]
Thorne doesn't expect an answer tonight. He figures Luna would let him stew for another day or so, let him think he's considering it. The Prince of San Francisco rises several notches higher in his estimation. "I will not only abide by your laws, my prince," he says, straightening, "I will help you see that they are kept. Thank you." The relief is tremendous - a Ventrue prince has actually accepted them! So healing after the debacle in London.
"And you have earned the right to sit at this table ... a probationary right," he cautions. [Oh, God, I might have to do some selling on that.]
The Tremere magus nods his acceptance, floored to the soles of his feet, but calm. "I understand. This is... more than acceptable, my prince." He wishes he had kept the prince's hand, could use it to draw him closer... [Oh, Thorne,] he tells himself, stopping a smirk before it starts, [you don't *have* to jump into bed with every one you *like*. Even if... oh. gods, who cares, he's gorgeous...] He stifles this insane urge to drop to his hands and knees, beg the Prince to fuck him senseless. [Not tonight, it looks like, but... damn!]
"Well, Thorne," Julian says, "If your associates are anything like mine, they're wearing ruts in the carpet pacing with anxiety. Perhaps we should gather them." [A certain Gangrel I know is probably climbing the walls.] He stifles a laugh.
Thorne gives him a weak smile, then relaxes more and smiles genuinely. "Davic is my childe, lord, and yes, he'll have that carpet worn to a nub. And a certain Gargoyle is probably more than ready to take off his nasty clothes. I may have to let him fly home tonight, au naturalle! The switch to a human form is a tricky one for a Gargoyle," he explains as they both rise from their seats. "It does require one of us to perform a specific ritual to assist the transformation. The clothes are another matter, I'm afraid."
Julian cannot contain himself at the images going through his head and chuckles outright. "Well, San Francisco has seen stranger things, I'm sure."
"Black jaguars?" Thorne asks, hoping to get more of a hint out of the prince as to what the other images in the vision meant. Plainly there was more to it than Lucien Lacroix and entourage. The magus thinks of the information on the detective from Washington that the Toreador gave him. Should he tell Julian? [It's not important,] he decides.
"I'm not sure what they mean," Julian answers, calmly avoiding the truth. He doesn't trust Thorne enough to betray the agreement he made with Ellison and Sandburg, much less let the Tremere know that the Prince broke his own laws concerning the Masquerade.
The Tremere nods. [All right, so I'm not exactly in the inner circle yet.]
Julian rises and escorts Thorne to the door, opening it to find Cash sitting back on his heels against the wall, glaring at Davic and Hunter, and Daedalus standing calmly, arms folded across his chest.
Davic controls an urge to rush to his master, throw himself into his arms. He settles for just looking at him with concern. Hunter is looking around the great hall, apparently entranced by some pattern in the wallpaper.
Cash jumps to his feet as the door opens.
[We'll have to repeat some lessons on control, I see,] Thorne says to his childe as he meets his eyes. [I can read every muscle in your body...]
[Way too eager, love. Control yourself.] "Thorne, we will talk again." He extends his hand.
Thorne lays a hand on the burly muscled arm of the Gargoyle, as he comes out to him, then turns to take the hand of the Prince when it is offered.
Cash moves, more controlled, to again bracket the visitors. [My lord.] His mental tone is acquiescent.
"Yes, my prince, I will be at your call," Thorne replies, touching his forehead to the Prince's hand, then, after hesitating minutely, he kisses the ring again, though it is not needed this time.
Cash, catching the satisfaction in his lover's thoughts, smiles to himself. [Julian, you *feel* like a cat with a mouse beneath his paw......]
Thorne sees something in the Gangrel's expression that makes him daring, and just before he releases the Prince's hand, he lets his eyes go the barest silver, and speaks directly into the mind of the Ventrue, [My powers...] he lingers, to let sink in that he does indeed have substantial powers, [are at your command... Yours.]
Julian's eyes widen, nearly betraying the shock he feels at having his mind invaded by the Tremere. "And I am sure I will have need of you," Julian says aloud, slowly pulling from Thorne's grasp.
Cash glares at the Tremere, feeling Julian's shock echoing down their link. [I don't know what you just did, wizard, but don't do it again.]
[Did what, Cash?] Thorne glances mildly at the Gangrel.
[Cash, upstairs, now.] Julian cuts a glare at the Gangrel.
[YIKE!!] Cash slams his mental shields down hard, for a split second both the prince and the Tremere primogen get an image of a fledgling Cash, running for his life, the coppery smell of blood around him.
Reaching into his pocket, Julian pulls out a business card done in a beautiful crimson calligraphy style. It simply reads Julian Luna and has his private number. "Call me," he says to the Tremere magus, handing the card to him.
Cash bows to Julian and heads for the stairs...... rapidly.
Thorne glances aside as the Gangrel departs hastily, then the Tremere is meeting the prince's eyes a last time. "Thank you, I will. Ah... I apologize for my... fervor." He gives the prince a bit of a mischievous look, smiling... and glad as hell that he can, now. The rest.. will come.
THE END
