(A/N): FFnet's paranoia about links is messing with the formatting for part of this chapter. Had to make some pretty stupid adjustments to make it display at all. Apologies.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed
Chapter Three
LaCroix frowned down at the pile of correspondence littering his desk. News of the Sabbat raid had spread like wildfire through the kindred community, so of course those who would otherwise deny his rule were clamoring for Camarilla protection, demanding to know how he planned to safeguard them from further attack. He had no doubt that however he chose to respond, the rabble would be convinced he was handling it poorly – such was the folly of leadership. As if he'd survived as long as he had and risen to his rank by basing his decisions on nothing more than whimsical tosses of the dart.
He sat back with a grimace, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The city had languished too long under Anarch rule. They were uncoordinated, undisciplined – their staggering losses against the Kuei-jin were proof of that. They couldn't seem to grasp that the strong rose to positions of power for a reason, too in love with their prattle about égalité et liberté. Their gross naiveté to the realities of the world would be amusing if it weren't a direct threat to Camarilla rule. To his rule.
And Nines – his lip curled. They venerated him as a Prince, a populist savior for the common kindred. That he had dared voice his objection to Camarilla law before the entire court… He needed to be dealt with. For all their collectivist propaganda, Nines was the figurehead the Anarchs rallied around. If he fell, the rest would scatter. Cut the head from a snake and the body might thrash, but it was only the last agonized spasms of a creature already dead.
He thumbed idly through the stack of papers before him, gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. The Anarchs, the Kuei-jin, the Sabbat...he didn't lack for enemies these nights. He would have to keep them at one another's throats – he couldn't fight a war on three fronts.
The buzzing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts; he tilted the screen toward him to find an email notification from his newly adopted childe. His jaw tightened imperceptibly before he opened it.
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
Subject: I'm here
This place is a shit hole. Sir.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. Clearly the fledgling felt safe enough, removed as she was from his presence, to fall back into flippant disrespect.
RE: I'm here
Do not test my patience with whining. I have made my tolerance for such behavior quite clear. It is discreet. That is all that matters.
Is your email address meant to be amusing?
– SL
He fired off his reply and tried to turn his attention back to his work, but his phone vibrated again almost immediately.
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
RE: I'm here
I'm sorry. It's been a rough night.
You can blame your man Mercurio for the email address. I'm heading out to see him now, sir.
A rough night. He frowned. As if the circumstances of her evening excused such insolence.
RE: I'm here
Very well. I expect you will conduct yourself accordingly.
– SL
Message sent, he set the phone aside and turned back to the myriad pleas, protests, and harassments spread across his work surface. He was allowed almost an hour of productivity before his phone buzzed again.
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
RE: I'm here
So...I have a question.
RE: I'm here
Then ask.
– SL
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
RE: I'm here
Promise you won't get mad?
This was insufferable.
RE: I'm here
Why should I promise something so asinine? Ask your question or don't, but stop wasting my time.
– SL
Blessed silence. He picked up another petition, managed to scan a paragraph before his phone vibrated with another email notification.
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
RE: I'm here
Someone told me we can't have sex. Is that true?
LaCroix went perfectly, rigidly still.
RE: I'm here
I fail to see how this has any bearing on the tasks you have been assigned.
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
RE: I'm here
It has "bearing" on my understanding of kindred society. You said you were going to teach me.
He was going to flay Mercurio.
RE: I'm here
We are not discussing this.
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
RE: I'm here
Why not?
He grit his teeth. Why did she insist on pursuing this? Was it some quirk of her Toreador blood? Her clan did fall prey to their little obsessions, but usually only fixated upon baubles. Or…
His blood ran cold, brain racing. Sebastian had spent as little time as possible on the childe – he hadn't expected her to live long enough to make her worth any effort. The strength of her blood mattered little to him if it was splashed across an alley wall. But she had survived. And now this stubborn preoccupation with mortal passions that should no longer hold sway over her…
His phone vibrated in his hand.
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
RE: I'm here
You've made it very clear the way I conduct myself reflects on you. I can't avoid a faux pas if I don't know how. Sir.
The rationality of her argument calmed some of his agitation, but the specter of thin blood, once raised, was difficult to dispel. It was an eventuality he would have to worry about another time – if she truly was thin-blooded, it was doubtful she would survive much longer. For now, he set his jaw and answered her.
RE: I'm here
We are capable of the mechanics, yes. But we require blood to make the act pleasurable, and it is widely regarded as a needless waste. Blood should be a kindred's greatest passion. I trust we never need speak of this again.
– SL
He glared at the screen as he waited for her response.
From: Madison Langford [suckhead at sol . vtm ]
RE: I'm here
I understand.
Thank you, sir.
Some of the tension bled from his shoulders. She wasn't even a night old – her ignorance was hardly her fault. He decided he could afford to be magnanimous.
RE: I'm here
Questions regarding your new life are understandable.
If infuriating.
I will forward what material I'm able to answer any others you may have.
– SL
Anything to avoid another conversation like this one. He sank back in his chair, one hand rising to massage his temples. There was a reason he had never sired progeny, either before or after his death. To be saddled with one now – fate had an odd sense of humor.
He was still mulling over the vagaries of chance when his phone rang. His frown deepened when he saw the incoming call was from Maximillian Strauss. "Regent. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
"Good evening, Prince LaCroix." The Tremere primogen's voice was placid as a still lake. "I apologize for having to trouble you further this night."
For the love of St. Martin – could no one in this damned city simply come out and say what they wanted? "How may I assist you, Strauss?" he asked, one hand still shadowing his eyes.
"I do not wish to add to your burdens, but an apprentice has made me aware of another breach in our Masquerade."
Sebastian straightened. "What? How?"
"It seems a Malkavian youth became enamored of a kine television show centered on 'exposing' the supernatural. To prove his admiration, he sent the producers a vial of werewolf blood."
Sebastian's temples began to throb in earnest. Of course the breach had come from one of the twice-damned Malkavians. "I see. Where is this blood now?"
"The show's producers forwarded it on to a blood clinic in Santa Monica. I can dispatch a neonate to retrieve it on your order."
Sebastian sat back, considering. "Why are you the one bringing me this news, Strauss? If the whelp is Malkavian, it should've fallen to his sire or primogen to inform me of his transgression."
Strauss hesitated. "It is my understanding the childe is Caitiff, with no sire willing to acknowledge him. And Grout has been...difficult to reach of late. I felt this news too important to waste time waiting for him to reply to my missive."
Sebastian tapped a finger against his desk. "Then you have the fledgling in your custody?"
"We are holding him at the chantry for now."
"I'll have my sheriff collect him immediately." Sebastian stood and paced to the wall of windows overlooking the city. "I have an agent already in Santa Monica – I'll forward them the details of this transgression. It will be handled within the hour."
"Liam's misbegotten childe? You trust much to one so young."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "You're exceedingly well-informed regarding her movements."
"I must be well-informed in all matters to serve the Camarilla, my prince." There was no trace of insolence or insult in the regent's tone, but it grated all the same.
"Indeed." He turned his head to follow the flight of a low-flying plane. "It was not Liam's childe I was speaking of, however." Petty, perhaps, but he didn't like the man assuming so much.
"I see. Forgive my presumption. I shall instruct my apprentices to expect your sheriff shortly."
"See that you do. Good evening, Regent." Not waiting for a response, he disconnected the call. Eyes fixed on the light-studded horizon, he simply stood for a moment, running his thumb across the screen and thinking.
He turned abruptly and returned to his desk. A press of a button and his sheriff stood before him. "There is a Malkavian whelp being held at the Tremere chantry. He must be relocated to more suitable environs until his trial can commence." The imposing kindred nodded and turned away to do his bidding without a word. Sebastian suppressed a sigh. If only all of his underlings were so completely, unquestioningly loyal.
He held himself stiffly as he sank back into his chair, trapping his grimace behind the cage of his fingers. He was surrounded by vipers; he would have to make himself the most poisonous among them if he wished to survive.