Please send all comments to Julie Beamer
Disclaimer: The following story is based on the world of
"Kindred: The Embraced" created and owned by Spelling
Entertainment and White Wolf and their corporate parts. The
story is mine, but I'm borrowing their characters for our own
private amusement.
* * *
"Out of the Darkness"
A Kindred: The Embraced Story by Julie Beamer
Part 1
1985
Julian Luna was late coming back from Manzanita. He had
been gone for a long time. Too long, thought Lillie
Langtry grimly, as she waited on the stairs in the hall of
the mansion. She had stopped pretending she wasn't worried
hours ago. It was the kind of mission Julian had been on
hundreds of times before, carrying out Archon's judgement
against those Kindred who had broken the laws of the
Prince. But this time it was different. She could feel
it.
So she sat on the stairs, waiting. And if Archon was
disturbed seeing her on the staircase every time he left
his study -- well that was just too bad.
Just before dawn Julian returned. Archon met him in the
hall. Lillie took one look at Julian's face and realized
she should stay upstairs on the landing. Something had
happened.
"Well?" asked Archon.
"It's done," replied Julian simply. "But we need to talk."
The heavy doors of the study shut firmly behind them.
Lillie stared at the doors, wondering, wishing she were
inside to hear. She could hear Archon's voice raised from
time to time, but couldn't make out the words.
Twenty minutes later Julian emerged and bolted up the
stairs. Lillie grabbed his arm.
"Julian?"
The face before her was completely stricken. "I can't
stay. I can't do this anymore."
"Then I'll come with you." It was said before she even
thought about it.
Julian gratefully took her hand and they went to his room.
It was an example of Archon's formal views that even though
he knew Lillie and Julian were lovers and seldom slept
apart, he insisted they maintain separate rooms in the
house.
Lillie watched as Julian pulled a small case from the
wardrobe and began to pack. "Where were you planning to
go?"
"I have no idea. Somewhere. Anywhere."
She took his hand again. "Let's go to London. I haven't
been there in decades. We could even visit Jersey. You'd
love my home, Julian."
He smiled slightly. Lillie could always get a smile out of
him. "All right," he said. "Better go pack some things.
I want to be out of here before the sun is much higher."
* * *
It wasn't long before Julian and Lillie were in the foyer,
bags packed and ready to leave.
"Julian." Archon was in the doorway of his study. He held
out his hand for the traditional obeisance. "You will
always be welcome in this house."
Julian took his hand and kissed it.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"So am I," was Archon's quiet reply.
* * *
The darkened car took them safely to the airport and the
ramps and overhangs kept the rising sun away from them
until they were safely inside. Air travel had increased
the Kindred's ability to move easily and quickly from city
to city, but they still had to be careful, staying inside
the airports and keeping away from windows. Limiting
themselves to how humans traveled said much to Lillie about
Julian's state of mind. He wanted to leave -- now.
Julian booked them on a flight that was leaving
immediately, but they had a two hour layover in Chicago
before catching their connecting flight.
They settled themselves in the bar at O'Hare Airport,
sipping on drinks, happy for the darkened atmosphere.
Julian sat in his chair, lost in thought. Lillie took his
hand and kissed it, waking him from his reverie.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?"
He shook his head. "I can't. Not yet. Maybe -- maybe
later. Not now."
Lillie had learned through the decades that Julian had to
push the pain within himself first and deal with it, before
he could confide in others.
What she didn't realize was how long that process would
take this time.
* * *
Julian's self imposed exile in London didn't last long.
Barely fourteen months. Archon obviously bore no grudge --
Julian was well received by the Ventrue Prince of London.
The Prince of London even found Julian a job, placing him
in the "special section" of the Bank of England, handling
the accounts of Ventrue owned businesses. Apart from
learning about banking operations in general (the lifeblood
of the Ventrue clan), Julian also gained valuable
experience in all aspects of Ventrue run finances.
Lillie decided not to take up any employment in London (not
only could Julian's salary support them both, but she also
had her own money). She enjoyed life in London, making a
wide circle of friends in the large Kindred community
there. There was always a party or gathering of friends in
their apartment in the evenings. And if anyone wondered
about the odd pairing of the serious Ventrue and the
vivacious Toreador, everyone admitted that the relationship
seemed to work.
* * *
London was a conservative city, as were most European
Kindred. Although blood allowed them to face the sunlight,
they did so less than their American brethren. Kindred
social life revolved around the night far more than it did
across the Atlantic. The daylight hours were for rest.
Lillie had forgotten this trait after residing for more
than fifty years in San Francisco, but she picked it up
again easily; Julian, American born, decided it was quaint,
but adapted to the custom.
He admitted to needing a rest, but only Lillie knew how
unsettled his days were. Most of his sleeping hours were
tormented by nightmares. Rarely could she wake him and
break their grip; usually she could only hold him until
whatever demons within his soul released him. When
questioned, Julian refused to tell her about the dreams.
To convince Lillie he was well, Julian agreed to travel, to
let her show him London, Jersey, Paris, the south of
France, all the places she had known and loved in her
heyday when she held European and American theater
audiences (and more than one member of royalty) enthralled.
Time passed pleasantly enough and Lillie had begun to think
of the move as permanent. But one day a telegram arrived
from San Francisco. ("Doesn't he know there's a
telephone," Lillie had sniffed.) Archon wanted Julian to
come back. He needed help, of a "different" nature.
Lillie had protested that Julian was just dropping
everything with no explanation, but she knew his attachment
to Archon was strong and knew he would go back to San
Francisco. And she also knew she would return with him.
* * *
This time they traveled via night flights in easy stages.
They arrived in San Francisco at 10:30pm. Sonny Toussaint,
a Childe of Julian's, met them at the airport. He was
unabashedly glad to see his Sire.
"It's good to have you back," he said as he hugged them
both. "Archon's been impossible since you left."
Julian grinned wryly. "So how have you been?"
"I just got promoted," Sonny announced proudly. "No string
pulling either. All on my own."
"I always said you were smarter than you gave yourself
credit for. So you like being a cop?"
"Yes, I do. Besides it's good to have more of us in the
department. We usually hear what's going on in the city,
even if we can't always do something about it."
Light chit-chat continued on the drive back to the compound
over looking the bay.
It was impossible to know Julian's thoughts as they swept
up the drive in front of the long flight of stairs. The
guards at the house, most of them Julian's youngest brood
siblings, smiled and nodded when they saw him.
Archon was waiting for them in the hall. There was no
hesitation; after receiving Julian's formal kiss to the
hand, Archon happily embraced him.
"Welcome home," he said. "I've missed you." His smile
even included Lillie, whose relationship with Julian he
hadn't always approved of.
But it was much later, after Lillie had tactfully retired
to leave the two men alone, that Archon finally told Julian
why he had asked him to return.
"This last war could have destroyed us," Archon
acknowledged as they sipped wine from Julian's family's
winery. "You tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. You
were right; I was being too heavy handed."
Julian said nothing; it was an admission he never expected
to hear from his Sire.
"The peace is holding, but barely," Archon continued. "I
need help getting the Clans to negotiate with each other.
I tend to give orders; it's my nature. Orders are
resented. But you have friends within most of the Clans --
any statement coming from you would be less of an order and
more of a suggestion. It's more diplomatic that way."
"I never thought of myself as a statesman before," Julian
commented.
"You are, whether you know it or not. I had good reports
of you in London," Archon added.
Julian smiled slightly at these words. Even under the
circumstances of his leaving, Archon had kept an eye on
him.
"Then I'll start tomorrow," he said.
Part 2
It didn't take Julian long to find his old friend, the
Gangrel boss, Stevie Ray. The Gangrels were drifters by
nature, but they always knew what was going on in any city
they inhabited. Stevie could bring him up to speed on
recent events.
Julian found Stevie where he had last seen him over a year
ago, in his favorite pool-hall.
"May I join you?"
It was a voice Stevie was afraid he'd never hear again.
He turned and grinned at his old friend, handing him a cue.
"I heard you were back."
Julian stripped off his jacket and loosened his tie before
joining the game. "Yesterday," he acknowledged as Stevie
racked up a new game. "How's the truce been holding?"
Stevie shrugged. "Not bad. Archon gave me permission to
bring the Clan numbers back to pre-War levels. The Brujah
have been allowed to bring their numbers up to Gangrel
population, but no more."
"That's good," Julian said.
"Hmmm," Stevie replied. "The problem is, we were almost
wiped out. Most of the Gangrel here now are my Childer,
and only a few years old. The Gangrel can't continue the
way they have, Julian. Some of the old traditions of
freedom are going to have to go."
Julian understood what he was getting at. "Do you want me
to talk to him?"
Stevie almost smiled. "Maybe later. Archon's the old
school; he's not big on change."
Julian had to chuckle at that as they continued the game.
* * *
Julian's next visit was to another old friend, Daedalus of
the Clan Nosferatu. Stevie could tell him what was going
on in the city -- Daedalus could frequently tell him *why*.
Daedalus made his Haven near the Prince's home. Julian
sniffed the air and smiled. Only Daedalus's Haven held
that odd mixture of damp, mold -- and paint. For Daedalus
was an excellent, albeit unusual, artist.
Daedalus handed his friend a glass of wine as if it had
only been last week, rather than last year, that they had
seen each other.
"Did Stevie Ray have anything interesting to tell you?" he
asked.
Julian wasn't surprised that Daedalus already knew he had
seen Stevie.
"Not really," he replied. "Although there are going to be
some interesting changes for their Clan."
"They should make some changes," Daedalus said. "They were
almost destroyed in the last war."
Julian nodded. The Nosferatu had carefully remained aloof
from the war, watching all the other Clans ravage each
other. By the end of the war, there were more Nosferatu
left in the city than either Gangrel or Brujah, the
bloodshed had been that enormous. Julian felt sickened by
the part he had played in it as well as by the events in
Manzanita that had sent him fleeing the city.
"I hear you will not be taking up your old duties,"
Daedalus said conversationally.
"No."
Daedalus tucked away the simple word. So much had been
said in one quiet syllable.
They continued their conversation. Julian learned much of
the events of the past year; Daedalus suspected much was
coming in the future.
But Daedalus kept that to himself.
* * *
Julian joined Lillie in her room for their morning rest.
But she wouldn't let him sleep. She was brimming over with
news.
"I went to see Miguel today," she said, naming the Primogen
of the Toreador.
"And?"
"He wants to step down and retire. And he's going to offer
my name at the next Clan meeting to succeed him!"
Julian was startled. "You want the job?"
"Of course," she said. "Power, prestige, money. I've been
very helpful to him since coming to San Francisco. I
turned the speakeasies into legitimate clubs after
Prohibition ended. I got us into the music business and
negotiated the takeover of the record companies. I deserve
this."
"I suppose now I'll be replaced," Julian teased. They had
broken up repeatedly over the years and repeatedly made up,
but it was always for intensely personal reasons. Status
had never entered into it.
"Well," she temporized and giggled when Julian rolled over
on top of her. "You'll have to be nice to me."
"Absolutely," he replied as his mouth found hers.
It's a good thing that neither of them were sleepy.
* * *
Julian spent the next two years helping Archon keep the
peace. Archon had been quite right; with Julian's
friendships running across Clan lines, it was easier to
bring the different parties together. Even Lillie helped.
As Toreador Primogen, she also had contacts that ranged
throughout the state. The truce between the clans, at
first very uneasy, slowly solidified. Julian proved
himself a master of negotiation. Of course, his reputation
as a fighter also helped. Everyone knew of his actions
during the war. Everyone remembered the deaths of the
Manzanita Brujah. No one wanted to see that side of Julian
again.
Archon was well pleased with his favorite Childe.
Everything was going according to plan. Now all he had to
do was tell Julian.
* * *
They sat in Archon's study, sharing a glass of wine and
going over the most recent events in the city. It was an
evening they had often shared. Tonight would be an evening
Julian Luna would remember for the rest of his life.
"I have something to tell you," Archon began. "Something
I decided on some time ago. But I couldn't put it into
practice until you returned and were ready."
Julian was wary. His Sire was unpredictable. He *said* he
would never ask Julian to repeat his actions at Manzanita -
- but no matter what excuse he gave now, Julian would
*never* do that again.
"What are you planning?" he asked cautiously.
"I'm going to step down as Prince," Archon stated calmly.
"And I want you to take my place."
Julian couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're going
to step down -- and make me Prince? You can't be serious!"
"I am."
"But -- I can't take your place. I have no idea how to be
Prince, what to do."
Archon smiled. "The Prince has only one job -- to keep the
peace. I came close to forgetting that. When there's
peace everything else falls into place."
"I don't know what to do, how to do it."
"You know more than you think. You've been doing the
hardest part of the job for the past two years. Why do you
think I asked you to come back? I wanted to prepare you
for this."
Julian's mind was reeling. "You're serious."
"Very."
Julian found another objection. "The other Clans would
never accept it."
Archon smiled again. "You'll have the support of the
Ventrue -- and I would assume the Toreador. The Brujah are
still disorganized from the War. Eddie won't like it, but
he's in no position to cause trouble."
"And the Nosferatu?"
"Goth will probably be a problem," Archon conceded. "But
he's also losing support in his Clan. If he oversteps the
bounds, I don't see the Nosferatu having any trouble in
replacing him. Besides," he added, "they haven't forgotten
how you rescued many of them after the 1906 earthquake.
You personally have support among many of the Nosferatu."
Julian regarded his Sire steadily. "You've thought this
whole thing out."
"Yes, I have. Since the day three years ago when you said
you wouldn't kill for me anymore. I knew the time had
come. *Your* time, Julian."
For a moment, there was silence between them.
"I still don't think I can do it," Julian confessed.
"You won't be alone," Archon assured him. "I can take over
as Ventrue Primogen."
Julian glanced at him sharply. "I won't be a puppet."
"If I had wanted a puppet," Archon responded drily. "I
never would have asked you to come back."
He held up his wine glass. "To change," he offered.
Still shaking his head, Julian drank to the toast.
Part 3
Julian was nervous about the whole affair, but he shouldn't
have been. Archon had orchestrated more than one coup
d'etat -- although this was a first in that he was ousting
himself.
The first salvo was barely noticed. Archon announced the
stepping down of the Ventrue Primogen, to "retire" to
another city. It was a perfectly ordinary, not uncommon
announcement. What no one else realized was that he had
been *ordered* to retire and leave the city by Archon.
Lillie was the only other Primogen who had been told what
was about to happen. Julian had insisted on that. The
support of the Toreador, the second largest Kindred Clan in
San Francisco, was essential.
She was thrilled with the news. To be Primogen in her own
right was wonderful enough. But being the lover of the
Prince on top of that -- that only added to the power of
the Toreador. And who knew, Lillie thought ambitiously,
"Consort" had a nice ring to it as well.
There were two other Kindred Julian told -- Stevie Ray and
Daedalus. They would be his eyes and ears in the city.
There would be changes in San Francisco, for Julian would
start the way he meant to go on.
* * *
Finally, the day came. The Conclave meeting would be held
in the mansion. Julian waited for the others to arrive
with Archon. His mouth was dry and more than anything
else, he wanted to run. He smiled slightly at the memory
of the last time he had physically run from something. He
had rammed right into a tree. And met Daedalus in the
process. There had to be a lesson there somewhere, he
thought.
Finally, all the Primogen were assembled. It was time.
* * *
Eddie Fiori wasn't surprised to see Julian Luna enter the
Conclave room with Archon. He had been betting that Julian
would get the plum position of Ventrue Primogen. He
sniffed when he saw the Gangrel, Stevie Ray. The Conclave
would obviously be talking about something that affected
the Gangrel Clan directly. Scum, he thought venomously.
Julian and Archon took their places -- with Archon as
Ventrue Primogen and Julian at the head of the table as
Prince.
Eddie stared in total shock. This -- this couldn't be.
*Julian* was Prince? It couldn't be true, it couldn't.
Goth was equally dumbfounded, but unlike Eddie, had enough
sense not to show it. Inside, he was seething. I should
have known, Goth thought to himself. I should have been
warned. Why wasn't I?
"As you can see," Julian began. "There have been some
changes. Effective immediately, Archon has renounced the
position of Prince of San Francisco. I have taken over
that position. The Ventrue Clan requested that Archon stay
on as Primogen. I have agreed."
"I won't accept it!" Eddie shouted, finally finding his
voice. "The Primogens have not been consulted."
"They seldom are," Goth answered him drily. He would not
allow the other Primogen to realize how unnerved he was by
Julian's elevation. "The question usually is, is there
another Clan that is strong enough to fight the Ventrue for
the position of leadership?" He stared Eddie down. "I
didn't think so," he said as Eddie began to deflate.
"The Toreador Clan," Lillie said from her side of the
table. "Supports our Prince. And we are delighted that
Archon's wisdom and abilities will not be lost to the
city."
Archon found himself smiling inwardly. Lillie was always
good with a turn of a phrase, he thought. But Julian had
better watch himself with her. Archon knew she could just
as easily turn those phrases against him.
"The first order of business," Julian resumed calmly. "Has
to do with the make up of the Conclave itself. For over
140 years, the Gangrel have been a part of the San
Francisco Kindred community. Yet they've never had a
permanent place at the Conclave. Until today."
At the nod of Julian's head, Stevie Ray joined the others
at the table.
"NO!" Eddie Fiori jumped to his feet.
"Sit down, Eddie," Julian responded.
Enraged, Eddie remained standing, staring at the Gangrel.
Stevie calmly met his gaze.
"SIT down," Julian repeated. It was a tone that would
brook no defiance.
Eddie met Julian's eyes and something in them made him
blink. He wasn't strong enough to take Julian on, he
realized. The Brujah were still too weak from the war.
Slowly, he resumed his seat.
Julian continued as if there had been no interruption.
"The composition of the Conclave is dictated by tradition.
When there are a certain number of Kindred of one Clan
resident in the city, they have a right to representation
at the Conclave. The word "resident" has always been a
sticking point for the Gangrel. But there are always a
certain number of Gangrel in the city, and Stevie has
expressed a willingness to remain to provide a
representative for his Clan. The Brujah opposition has
been noted. Is there any other?" There was silence at the
table. "No? Then shall we move on?"
The Conclave meeting continued with no further
interruptions.
* * *
After the Conclave had ended, Julian fled not to Lillie,
nor to his Sire's rooms, but to one he had gone to in many
a crisis. Safe in the haven of Daedalus, Julian could now
let his real feelings show. He sipped on the wine his
friend poured for them. "I feel like a fraud," he
admitted.
"You won't when you start work; Archon ignored some recent
problems, so there is much to be done," Daedalus replied.
"I heard you did very well at your first Conclave."
Julian shrugged. "That part wasn't as hard as I thought it
would be. I just imitated Archon."
"But you made changes, which is good. Giving Conclave
representation to the Gangrel is a sensible idea. However,
Stevie Ray needs more status for his Clan to be accepted
fully by the others. Have you thought of a bodyguard?"
Julian grinned ruefully. "I never needed one before."
Daedalus waved his hand dismissively. "Not because you can
not defend yourself; because there is strength in numbers.
No one will attempt an open attack if there is the
possibility of witnesses. And to be the Prince's personal
bodyguard is to be held in a position of trust -- and
respect."
Julian nodded. It was a good idea.
Daedalus held up his hand and began ticking off on his
twisted, clawed fingers. "You have on your side the
Ventrue, the Gangrel, the Toreador," (for now, he thought
to himself), "which leaves only the Brujah, who are not
organized enough to be a threat, and -- ."
"Goth," Julian supplied.
They sipped the rest of their wine in silence.
* * *
Meanwhile, far away from the Prince's compound and hidden
by the natural surroundings of a local park, Goth raged to
his consort, Camilla. Safe in the depths of his own Haven,
he expressed his true feelings.
"...and the Prince installs his own whelp! No discussion,
no preparation. And worse, I didn't know it was coming.
I should have known. Someone should have told me."
Camilla said nothing and continued her delicate stitchery.
She had her suspicions, of course. Others of their Clan
would have known; Daedalus for one. Camilla would stake
her life on that.
"Perhaps they were afraid you would organize the opposition
against such a move?" she offered. She didn't believe that
for a moment, but she wanted to placate him. However, Goth
would have none of it.
"I'm not trusted," he snapped. "I've lived here almost as
long as those who cavort above ground. I am the strongest
Primogen at the table. And yet I am ignored. But the day
will come when no one would dare to ignore me."
Camilla grew alarmed. "What do you mean?"
"I am not the only one who was angry by this unworthy
elevation. Perhaps it's time to strike before this new
Prince can consolidate his rule."
Camilla was uneasy. She knew, as much as her spouse
ignored, the rumblings in their own Clan. Archon had been
less than popular with the Nosferatu, but he had never
actively antagonized them. There had been murmurs of
dissatisfaction, but that was all. Goth did not seem to
realize the personal respect many Nosferatu had for Julian.
Many living in the city had been rescued from the rubble of
their Havens by the young Ventrue after the 1906
earthquake. The Nosferatu had long memories and that act
alone would give Julian a chance to prove himself to the
Clan.
Likewise, Goth's star appeared to be falling. Whispers
tapered off when Camilla was near, but she knew some felt
that Goth was starting to interpret Kindred law and
Nosferatu tradition to suit himself. That did not sit well
with their Clan. Unlike the Gangrel and the Brujah, the
Clan Nosferatu was not a collection of Neophytes, but a
stable society of established members. Goth could easily
be replaced if he went too far...
Camilla started from such a thought. Goth was strong, she
told herself. He had never failed before and wouldn't now.
In contrast, the fear that he could lose never entered
Goth's mind. Julian was young and lacked the caution and
experience of his Sire. He would be easy to trip up in the
Conclave. With a lack of confidence from the other Clans,
he *couldn't* rule effectively. It might not even be
necessary to kill him and Archon. Goth was the most senior
and experienced of the Primogen. The Conclave would have
no choice but offer him the position of Prince. Then the
power of the Nosferatu would be supreme.
With surprising tenderness, he took Camilla's hand. "We
shall rule together, my love."
Camilla forced the uneasiness from her mind. Goth had
never failed before, she told herself again. He wouldn't
now.
* * *
Part 4
Goth trudged through the underground tunnels that linked
many of the Nosferatu havens. It had been a week since
Julian's sudden elevation to the Princedom. It had been a
week of -- nothing, Goth thought sourly. He had sounded
out his compatriots, expecting support. What he got was a
surprising ambivalence. The Nosferatu were quite happy to
allow Julian time to prove himself, time to settle the
city. They enjoyed the peace of San Francisco, of being
above politics. Such thoughts made Goth sick.
Allies, he thought, grimly. I need allies. Goth couldn't
bring himself to beg for help from the other Clans. Not
that he would get any, he knew. The Gangrel and Ventrue
were fully on Julian's side, and the Toreador followed
their Primogen, who was the Prince's whore, he thought
venomously. Only the Brujah would help him, and he had no
faith in their abilities or the abilities of their leader,
Eddie Fiori.
He would have to act alone. And quickly. Then he would
seize power before anyone had realized what had happened.
The Nosferatu would support their Primogen then, he
decided. Then they would enjoy the full benefits of a Clan
in power.
* * *
Julian sat on a stone wall in the patio at the rear of the
mansion, staring at the night sky. It had all worked out,
just as Archon said it would. Ruling was much easier than
he thought. He had the support of the Ventrue, the
Toreador, and the Gangrel. Eddie was transparent in his
hatred, which made him easy to outmaneuver and control.
Only Goth was a difficulty, but Julian knew that the
Nosferatu Clan as a whole were willing to give him time to
prove his abilities.
Dawn was coming and he was growing tired. He got off the
wall and stretched, taking the colonnaded walkway back to
the mansion. A sixth sense developed after over a hundred
years as Archon's Enforcer alerted Julian to the danger.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow move and
dodged. Goth stumbled, breaking out of the darkness, knife
raised to strike. Julian grabbed his wrist to deflect the
next blow, and used his own weight to force them into a
column with a thud.
Julian heard shouts behind them but he ignored them,
concentrating on staying away from the blade. Quickly,
Goth was surrounded and overpowered by the household
guards.
"Julian, are you all right?"
It was Stevie Ray.
"Of course." Julian turned to Goth, his eyes
expressionless. "Take him downstairs," Julian commanded.
"And find a representative of the Nosferatu to come see
me."
Julian returned to the house. He was shaking and didn't
want anyone else to see. He forced himself to go to his
rest, feeling a little better when he heard Stevie Ray
order the guards doubled. He thought of his Sire before he
closed his eyes and how often Archon had been the target of
an attack. This was something else that came with the job.
* * *
That evening, Julian met with the representative of the
Nosferatu Clan. He wasn't surprised to see they sent
Daedalus. The tall Nosferatu looked decidedly
uncomfortable standing before Julian in his study.
"I can't let attempted murder go," Julian stated without
preamble.
"Our Clan does not expect that," Daedalus replied. "We are
ashamed by the behavior of our Primogen. We knew he was
against you, but did not expect him to act in this manner.
We ask only for mercy."
Julian gripped the mantlepiece. Mercy. Others had begged
for mercy only a few short years ago and he had not given
it to them. Mercy.
Formally, he extended his hand for the traditional kiss of
respect. "Tell your Clan," he said. "Goth will not be
executed. If they remain loyal to me there will be no
repercussions."
Daedalus kissed the outstretched hand with gratitude. It
was more than they had a right to expect. Assassination
was seldom treated lightly.
* * *
The following evening, Goth was brought before the special
assembly of the Conclave.
All the Primogen around the table looked grim. Julian sat
at the head of the table, looking calm and determined.
Goth stared at Julian silently, unflinchingly. He would
not sully the name of the Clan Nosferatu. He would be
dignified, regardless of how his Final Death would be
carried out.
"Goth of the Clan Nosferatu," Julian announced. "For the
attempt on my life, as Prince I hereby banish you from this
Domain. You will be taken to the outskirts of the city
immediately. If you return, your life is forfeit."
Goth blinked in surprise. Banishment? Simple banishment?
Archon was equally stunned. He stared at Julian in shock,
but Julian ignored his Sire's gaze.
Julian then nodded to the guards and they led Goth away.
He rose. "This Conclave is adjourned." Without another
word, he left the room.
The door to his study was shut -- pointedly. He wanted no
visitors. After a while, he appeared on balcony and called
down to one of the guards.
"Have someone find Daedalus. I'd like to speak with him."
* * *
For the second time in two nights, Daedalus stood before
Julian. Warily, Julian waved his friend to the chair
across from him.
"Sit down, Daedalus. Please. I just want to talk."
Daedalus nodded and calmly sat and waited.
"I didn't order his death," Julian stated with his eyes
still closed.
"I know," Daedalus responded slowly. "We are all grateful
and are ready to prove our loyalty to our Prince."
But Julian was in a pensive mood and wasn't interested in
formalities.
"Do you think I was wrong?"
"Only if he returns," said Daedalus bluntly.
Julian found himself smiling at that. As befitting a son
of the city of New Orleans, he had gambled. He would only
be wrong if the gamble didn't pay off. But the Nosferatu
owed him now -- he knew it and so did they. There would be
no trouble from that quarter and they would fall over
themselves bringing him information for the next few years
at least. He had bought peace at the price of his own
safety. That would have to do for now.
"Would you like some wine?" Julian offered, much like in
the old days.
"I would like that."
Julian walked to the sideboard and poured two glasses for
them.
"Please tell Camilla that Goth's banishment does not extend
to her," Julian said. "She's welcome to stay."
"I have explained this to her," Daedalus replied. "But she
chooses exile with Goth."
Julian nodded. Camilla was a woman of honor and dignity.
She had remained with her mate through all the days of
power and glory -- she would remain with him through all
reversals as well. Julian hoped he would be lucky enough
to find such a consort himself one day. But as Prince he
now had other duties besides his own happiness.
Julian and Daedalus continued to sip their wine, each
thinking their own thoughts.
* * *
On another floor in the house, Archon, Ventrue Primogen and
former Prince, sat comfortably in his own chair, reviewing
the past few months. Everything had gone according to
plan. The city had been saved for the Ventrue by the
removal of their most powerful rival. The removal wasn't
as permanent as Archon would have wished, but Goth was no
longer a threat to them. And as Prince, Julian was doing
well, better in fact, than Archon had really expected.
Archon could not hide the ghost of a smile. Yes, he
thought, everything had gone according to plan. Julian was
Prince and the city was still safely in Ventrue hands. And
now he, Archon, was free -- free to enter the light. The
past would no longer bind him to the darkness. Manzanita
was only a memory which would cease to trouble him. He
only needed time to forget.
THE END