A Place to Belong: Chapter 11

Chapter XI

What Clan Are You?

Optimist Hall had been an old textile mill that was built in 1892 and called two different names that I was aware of during its tenure as an actual mill. It continued to run as a mill up until about 2015, and the following year it was sold to a group who wanted to turn it into a more public space with offices, retail shops, and most importantly a wide variety of food vendors. They opened their doors in 2019, which meant that it should have been a lot less claustrophobically crowded than it was, but apparently its popularity hadn’t declined in the six years it was open. 

“This place was a pretty good investment,” Callie was saying animatedly as she picked at the chilli cheese fries she’d ordered. Apparently, she had the skill to actually eat food to appear normal to the kine, something I did not envy her one bit for. If wine needed to be of the highest grade to taste less like ash, I didn’t want to know what chilli cheese fries tasted like to my new kindred tongue. 

Isadora sat next to me, pressed close. I could sense her tension and knew that the closeness had nothing to do with any form of attraction, despite Diego’s not-so-subtle comments on the matter. She felt more like a frightened animal than anything else, her eyes wider than normal on her usual neutral expression as she pressed close against a known entity while trying to make sense of the unknown she found herself surrounded by. 

Diego, to his credit, was doing a much better job faking though his discomfort. He played the role of the suave young man listening and flirting with the animated girl in the group, but his eyes flicked around, scanning the room, his smile was tight and forced, and his posture was a sort of faux-relaxed, set in a posture of ease and contentment while in reality his muscles were coiled like springs, ready to release at a moment’s notice. 

Considering the sheer volume of people, I wasn’t surprised by this. Optimist Hall was massive, filled with hundreds of people despite the late hour and budding chill in the air, and, more than anything else, it was loud. We hadn’t spent much time indoors due to the tightly packed crowds and lack of convenient seating, but outside there were rows and rows of picnic tables where people were sitting, laughing, eating, and drinking. A few were giving us strange looks since we were the only ones who had nothing more than a single order of fries in front of us, taking up valuable real estate, twice what it appeared we needed, but we did have four more joining us soon. 

“Do we even know who we’re looking for?” Diego asked, looking down at his watch. It was an analog like mine, but he chose his for a much different reason than I did. Plus, his was an ancient and cheap model that seemed to be barely plugging along. I made a mental note to get him a better one. The last thing I needed was to get killed or caught because his timing was off. 

“Well, let me check my phone and see… oh wait!” Callie said, putting on an air of mock surprise. “My phone is in the car because it’s practically useless here for some reason!” 

Her expression dropped as she shot Diego a dirty look. He turned away slightly, a sheepish expression on his face. I bit my tongue and decided that if Diego wanted a defense, he could mount it himself. His bloodline was the hallmark of the traditional ‘vampires don’t appear in mirrors’ part of the lore. Apparently that extended to cameras, video, audio recording, and shorts out all technology as well. Very useful for not getting caught by a security system, less useful when wanting to receive a text message with a picture of who we’re meeting. 

Before he could respond to her, a tall woman in ripped jeans, a tight tank top covered by a thick, baggy flannel button down, and a rat’s nest where her hair should be plopped down at our table and began eating Callie’s fries. She stared directly into Callie’s eyes as she did, almost seeming to challenge her to say something. The look of shock and indignation on Callie’s face made a small smile tug at the corners of my lips, though I did my best to suppress it. 

“Who the hell do you think you are…” Callie began, but froze when she saw the sheen of red pass across the woman’s eyes, like the eyes of a beast hiding in the dark. 

“Settle down, girlie,” the woman said. “We’re kin.” 

She licked her fingers, almost seeming to enjoy the taste of the onions and cheese, then held her hand out to Callie to shake it. 

“I’m Artemis,” she said, grinning as she watched Callie recoil in disgust. “Your friend from the heathen north.” 

Callie’s body language depicted a woman torn. Part of her was absolutely disgusted by the idea of shaking this strange woman’s hand considering where it had just been. The other part of her was built to follow protocols, and this was the most basic one when it came to public interaction. Either this Artemis woman knew exactly how to break a young Ventrue’s mind, or she was just very good at fucking with people. 

Finally, Callie swallowed her pride and held out her hand, delicately shaking Artemis’ own while touching as little skin as possible. 

“Caroline Rousseau,” she responded, putting on her most diplomatic smile and accent. “A pleasure to meet you.” 

“I see what you mean about the lying,” Isadora whispered to me, earning a sharp look from Callie and eliciting a barking laugh from Artemis.

“Glad to see some people down here tell it like it is. Worst part of the south, everyone’s so polite about telling you to fuck yourself and piss off,” Artemis said, practically cackling and drawing even more stares from surrounding tables. 

“I thought it was the rampant racism and religious zealotry?" I responded in a quieter tone and a smile. 

“Oh, Talon is going to like you,” Artemis said, her teeth gleaming in the overhead lights, the LEDs making them look as though there was a blue sheen on them. She reached for her pocket as she continued. “Let me call him, get the whole gang over here.” 

“Stop,” I said, not realizing that I’d put the effort of authority into my voice. Artemis’ hand paused at her side, and a sudden realization of what I’d done crossed her face followed by a flash of anger. Before things could get worse, I held up my hands in a placating manner. “My apologies, I’m still new to this. Only a couple months old, in fact.” 

Her anger was replaced by scepticism and caution, but her aggressive posture relaxed a hair, which I took as an invitation to continue. 

“You see, our friend Diego here,” I gestured to him, only realizing in this moment that he was about ready to bolt himself, but continued talking. “Tends to have an… adverse effect on technology. My reaction was simply out of concern for your possessions.” 

Artemis shot Diego a look, studying him for a second, then cracked a smile. 

“Ah, one of the tyrants,” she said, now fully relaxing before turning her eyes on me. “You might want to get a lid on that… Actually, I can’t tell with you.” 

“Tell what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Your clan,” she said, lowering her voice. “I mean, going by the way you dress and the power you tried to use on me, I’d say a Ventrue…” 

“He’s not a Ventrue,” Callie said, her voice low and sharp. 

“Yeah, his personality was kind of a dead give away,” Artemis laughed. “Or should I say, lack there of?”

“It comes through now and then,” Isadora said, though I couldn’t tell if she was correcting Artemis or coming to my defense. 

“Tremere,” I said, plainly. 

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense,” she said, her face darkening slightly. “Grengel and Tremere tend not to get along as well. You all tend to be a bit rigid whereas we like our… flexibility. Plus, your clan has a history of trying to put leashes on others.” 

I saw her eyes narrow a bit more and realized just how bad of a faux pas my accidental use of Domination had been. There were two paths I could take with this. Profuse apology that would show this predator that I was weak in an attempt to placate her or taking the unexpected route. 

“I’ve always been into collars, but not leashes,” I said, grinning at her and giving a wink. “Especially with a bell and a pair of ears.” 

Artemis’ eyes widened and her mouth dropped in a mixture of shock and laughter. 

“Oh my fucking god,” she said, nearly howling as she laughed. “Okay, now that was something I never thought I’d see. A Binder Boy with a sense of humor? Oh, yeah, Talon is going to love you. Granted, Amir will find you rather pedestrian. A collar with cat ears is kinda vanilla.” 

“Who said anything about cats?” I asked with a faux innocent voice. Smirking, I cocked my head to one side. “I prefer cows. Something about the pattern and the chunkier… bells.” 

The people at the next table got up and moved away from ours as Artemis laughed so loudly and obnoxiously that we were creating our own little barrier around us. Soon enough we were the only ones in our little section outside Optimist Hall and despite not breathing, Artemis had to take a moment to at least collect herself if not catch her breath. 

“Alright, you win this round,” she said, when she finally composed herself. I grinned, pretending to ignore the look of shock and disgust on Callie’s face and simultaneously tried to ignore Diego’s manic grin at my audacity. 

The only one of my coterie that didn’t seem to respond was Isadora, who still sat stark still at my side, her arm wrapped around mine as if I were an anchor. I felt her body relax more as the people around us dispersed, but she twitched slightly, her head moving imperceptibly to our right. My eyes flicked in that direction to catch a large man in a biker’s jacket walking our way with a couple of beers in one hand, the rims pinched between two fingers, and a tray with a few bau buns from a local place that I’d tried back when I was alive. If my mouth could still water, it would have at that moment. I felt a pang of loss for those buns. 

“You know, I was worried I’d never find you in this place since you weren’t answering your phone,” he rumbled at Artemis as he swung one leg over the bench and set down the food and drinks. “But I guess I didn’t need to worry. You called in a much more primitive way. At least it worked.”

“Sorry, Tal,” Artemis said to her large companion. “Couldn’t answer my phone. Lasombra. Everybody, this is one of mine, Talon.” 

Talon nodded at her explanation with a grunt, and then nodded at the rest of us with a grunt of a different pitch. Either he wasn’t much of a talker, or he didn’t want to be right now. For the first time since becoming Kindred, I realized I was having difficulty reading someone. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Artemis asked, grabbing one of the beers on the table and taking a large swallow before grabbing one of the buns. 

“Cassandra dragged Amir to look at one of those vending machines with the flashing lights and the claw,” Talon responded gruffly. “I don’t think she wanted anything from it, but something about it caught her interest.” 

“Would have been nice for you to drag them both with you,” Artemis pointed out, gesturing at our coterie. “She’s the one with the message.”

Talon answered by gesturing at the food, to which Artemis simply pursed her lips and nodded. 

“Okay, fair point,” she responded. “Well, then go over there and call him. You know he’s probably looking at his phone anyway.” 

“The Toreador?” Diego asked. Artemis and Talon looked at him, confused. He just shrugged. “We got a very brief overview of who we’d be meeting. From the description, we knew there was a Toreador in the mix.” 

“What was the description?” Talon asked, raising his eyebrow, a stern expression on his face. 

“Primadona,” Isadora said, her voice flat and neutral. 

Both Artemis and Talon laughed at that, breaking the tension. With one leg already out of the picnic table, Talon swung himself back to his feet, still chuckling as he pulled out his phone at a safe distance from Diego. He seemed to get a quick response and have a short conversation before hanging up and coming back. 

“He’s on his way, apparently he was trying to get some B-Roll footage of Optimist Hall to show off his travels to his fans,” Talon said, sighing as he sat. “But he’ll be here soon with nutterbutter.” 

“Did you tell him to turn his phone off before coming over?” Artemis asked. Talon just laughed.

“No, why would I do that?” he responded, grinning at her and taking a deep drink of his own beer. 

Artemis laughed too. Apparently there was no love lost in their coterie, though it seemed as if they got along much better than ours did. In fairness to us, they seemed to have been together for much longer, whereas we’ve only known each other for a single night. However, it seemed like there was far less suspicion built up between their clans as well. Toreador can be manipulative, but when it's expected from the clan, most kindred just learn to live with it. Talon could have been a few different clans based on his looks, but he seemed to get along well with a Gangrel, so that narrowed the clan base down to two. Either he was another Gangrel, which seemed unlikely, or he was a Brujah. Given the leather jacket and attitude towards authority, I was guessing Brujah. The only one I was concerned about was…

“Why are you calling Cassandra ‘nutterbutter’?” Callie asked a question that seemed to have a pretty obvious answer to me. 

“She’s Malkavian,” Artemis said with a sigh. “And worse than that… she’s a seer.” 

There was a quiet at the table that actually seemed to represent true remorse for the fate of this kindred. The curse of Malkav was insanity. Whatever it was about that clan’s blood drove any kindred who carried it insane, one way or another. Some could appear normal for most of the time and then have bouts of madness, whereas others were so dangerous they needed to be locked away or put into torpor to keep from causing constant breaches of the Masquerade. The power of foresight, the gift of Malkav given to only some of his children, was almost as bad as the curse. To be able to see the future but not truly know it could drive anyone insane. I could only imagine what it would do to someone who already was. 

“And she’s the one with the message?” Callie asked, her tone less adversarial now, and slipping more into her diplomatic state. 

“She’s the one who saw it,” Artemis said, shrugging as she picked up her beer. “Baron thought it would be best for her to pass it along in person because somehow hearing it come from the horse’s mouth makes it more believable.” 

“The only thing crazier than a Malkavians words is hearing them come from someone else’s mouth,” Diego said, nodding his agreement. 

“Well, you can see for yourself in a second,” Artemis said, nodding behind us. “Here they come.”

A handsome man with glowing skin and a quaff of meticulously styled hair strutted towards us. His clothing was probably in the same price range as mine, though in a vastly different style. Pants ripped strategically to appear worn and frayed but still were stiff as if recently pressed or purchased and clashed visually with the pristine white of his sneakers that lacked any crease lines due to the careful, inhuman way he walked specifically to avoid that natural outcome. His shirt, if one could call it that, was some kind of rainbow shimmer over a dark colored mesh that gave the illusion it was changing color as he moved. It was only made remotely modest by the fact that he’d thrown a white button down with Jackson Pollock styled paint splashes printed across it. He gave every indication of the suave, debonair influencer… except for the exhausted expression on his face, probably brought on by the bouncing, bubbly girl hanging on his arm. 

She wore a white-knit shawl that reminded me of the doilies that my mother used to keep around our house draped over a purple blouse and a pair of jeans. Her boots clicked on the pavement and I could hear her voice rapidly firing questions at the man I assumed to be Amir, probably the source of his exhausted expression. Her voice sounded familiar, but something about the atmosphere made it difficult for me to pinpoint why. It didn’t help that there was a giant stuffed ferret clutched in her left arm blocking her face from view. 

“Amir!” Talon bellowed, shaking the handsome man from his stupor. “Over here.” 

Amir turned and steered the woman, whom I assumed was Cassandra towards the group. As they got closer, she moved the stuffed creature away from her face and looked at our group. If I had any blood left in my veins, it would have run cold. Her eyes locked with mine, and a familiar excited glee, that was more manic than I’d ever remembered it appearing, lit up her face. 

“Bryan!” she shouted, thrusting the stuffed animal into Amir’s arms and rushing over. 

Had I been in a more jovial mood, seeing the Toreador double over from the force of being hit in his gut with a stuffed rodent completely unprompted would have made me laugh as hard as Diego, Artemis, and Talon. She ran up to me and threw her arms around my neck, somehow accidentally pulling Isadora into the familiar embrace as well as she hadn’t let go of my arm. The Malkavian they were referring to as ‘Cassandra’ pulled back and looked at me somewhat quizzically. 

“So that’s what she meant by ‘the beast in the speech.’ I swear, half the time she doesn’t make sense,” ‘Cassandra’ said, pursing her lips. “Then again, that half of the time usually makes sense much later.” 

She paused and looked at me, still half hugging myself and Isadora then broke out into a toothy smile. 

“Hi!” 

“Hello Nicole,” I greeted my long time friend. Granted, I didn’t know her as a vampire. I knew her as a D&D player, story writer, artist, note taker, confidant, and more. But the vampire thing is new. “Seems we’ve both been keeping secrets.” 

“Secrets?” she cocked her head, confused. “That’s what DMs are supposed to do. I can’t tell you everything.I mean, I know you can separate player and character, but…” 

“I meant,” I said, cutting her rambling off. “In real life.”

“Oh, right,” she nodded, letting go of me and taking the plush ferret from Amir as he stumbled over. 

“Why is she so much stronger than me?” Amir asked, rubbing his stomach, then turned to look at me, as the rest of the table was currently doing. “And who the fuck are you?”

“And you’re calling Cassandra by her real name?” Artemis asked, though there was accusation in her tone again. 

“More importantly,” Callie cut in, somehow harboring even more accusation in her tone. “She called you by what I can only assume is your real name.” 

I felt Isadora’s arm loosen on mine, as if she was unsure if I was as secure an anchorpoint as she’d originally thought. Feeling the situation beginning to spiral, I determined that a dose of honesty was how to get things back under control. 

“Yes, and no,” I said to Callie. “Bryan is the name I was born with, and it was the name I died with. I took a new name when I was embraced. Something to protect the mortals still connected to me safe while I moved in different circles.” 

Isadora’s hands froze, not tightening again, but listening. Without comment on her subtle cues, I gestured to Nicole. 

“Nicole, or as you call her, Cassandra, here, was one of those mortals,” I eyed her curiously. “Apparently not anymore.”

“I got killed at the hospital,” Cassandra said, smiling at me. “But it's fine, because Gandalf saved me.” 

“Part of me knows there’s a context that makes that sentence make sense,” I said aloud, hearing a bit of my mortal voice slipping in. “Part of me really doesn’t want to know that context and just keep that image in my mind exactly as it is.” 

“So wait,” Artemis interrupted. “Cass, you vouch for this guy?”

“Yup!” Cassandra said, pulling a capri sun out of her bag and began sipping on it. I could smell the blood in the air as she did. She saw me looking at it and held it out to me. “Want some?”

“I prefer rich assholes abusing their power in order to oppress the masses,” I said, holding up a hand. “But you go ahead.”

“That tracks for you,” Cassandra said, pulling back her disguised bloodbag and continuing sipping on it. 

“Cass vouches for him and just offered to share food,” Talon said, gesturing at me. “I think he's solid.” 

“You just think that because he hates fascists,” Amir said, plopping down next to Diego. Artemis and Talon exchanged a glance and both stifled a laugh. “Regardless, we have a message to deliver and a beach to get to. Can we get on with it already?”

“Fine, fine,” Talon said, waving off a laugh. “Cass? Give them your message.” 

“Sure thing, Sharkbait,” Cassandra said, eliciting a sigh from Talon.

“You’ve known her longer than anyone here,” he said, turning to me as Cassandra put her stuff down on the table and pulled out a rather nice looking leather bound notebook. “Do you know why she calls me, and everyone in my clan, Sharkbait?”

“You Brujah?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah,” he responded bluntly, and I silently cheered my detective work. 

“Finding Nemo,” I said simply, shrugging. 

“The fish movie?” he asked, seemingly more confused. “How the hell does that make any sense?”

“Its the scene with the ring of fire,” I explained. “They’re trying to get Nemo to swim through the ring of fire, so they cheer him on, calling him Sharkbait.” 

“So she thinks we’re fish?” Talon asked, sounding even more confused. 

“No, they chanted to encourage him,” I said, then altered my voice slightly to sound more like the chanting fish in the movie. “Sharkbait! Ru-ha-ha!” 

Talon gave me a strange look then shook his head. 

“I think you’re as crazy as she is,” he said, then Artemis barked out a laugh and slapped his arm, snorting.

“Sharkbait!” she wheezed out. “Bru-ha-ha!” 

I grinned, watching the penny drop as Talon finally understood the nickname Cassandra had given him. He sighed, lowering his head, and resting it on the table. 

“Fuck. Me.” 

“Okay! I’m ready to start!” Cassandra called out. 

“I didn’t mean literally!” Talon barked, and Cassandra looked at him curiously. 

“What do you mean, Sharkbait?” she asked, innocently holding up the notebook she’d been rifling through, and I actually believed she was genuinely confused. When it came to her notes, she could often develop tunnel vision. “You told me to tell them.” 

“Oh, that, yeah,” Talon said, lowering his head again. “Do that.”

“Well, it was a little grainy, but there was a ferris wheel with eyes and sitting ducks,” Cassandra explained. “And there was salt in the air, and a boardwalk under my feet. And predators hunting, adding the scent of blood to the salt in the air. Howls rang out to the moon, and then I was talking to Barney again.” 

“The dinosaur?” Diego asked, his curiosity overwhelming his confusion. 

“The Baron,” Cassandra supplied, and I could see the rest of her coterie dropping their heads into their hands. 

“So there’s hunters on the move, and you think they’re here?” I asked, getting us back on track. 

“Well, they may be here,” Cassandra said. “I know they’re not here, but I don’t know they’re not here.”

“How is this helpful?” Callie asked, turning her irritation at me. 

“She knows they’re somewhere that isn’t here,” I translated, gesturing to Amir. “Probably the reason they’re heading for the coast. They know somewhere these hunters actually are. But she can’t say for certain whether they’re in our city or not. Hence the warning to be on the look out.” 

Amir and Talon both looked at me in stunned silence. 

“You can translate the crazy?” Amir asked, in awe. 

“Some of it,” I said, shrugging. “I can translate the Nicole parts of things. The Cassandra parts are still… vague. Like, what are these hunters?” 

“Garou,” Artemis said, her tone venomous, though I could happily tell that this time around, the venom wasn’t meant for me. 

Isadora’s arms gripped mine again, though tighter this time. A quick glance told me that her facial expression had not changed, but fear practically radiated from her. Diego had practically disappeared, while Callie sat ramrod straight as she processed Artemis’ words. 

“You’re sure…” Callie asked, almost begging Artemis to take her proclamation back. “You’re absolutely sure it’s Garou?” 

“As sure as you can be with the second hand description from a Malkavian snuggling a stuffed ferret and drinking blood out of a juice pouch,” Artemis said, shrugging. “But the Baron was sure enough that he sent us down to investigate the territory where we suspect them to be and warn every Baron and Baroness in the area as we go. Or in this case, stop for food, tell her emisaries, and then keep fucking going because we’re burning moonlight.”

“That… is pretty sure,” Callie concluded, and I noticed a tremor in her voice that I’d never heard before. 

Talon was staring at me the whole time this conversation was happening, looking between me and Cassandra. His eyes narrowed as he studied us, then he leaned in and whispered to me. 

“One of your friends just told you that there may be Garou in your city, so I’m sure you believe her,” he said to me, with suspicion in his voice. 

“Of course I do,” I responded. 

“Then how in the hell are you not pissing yourself right now?” he asked, quietly. “Your Lasombra vanished, your Ventrue looks ready to tuck her tail and run, and creepy girl over there turned into a gods-damned statue. How are you so calm?”

“I’ll let you in on a little Tremere secret to dealing with fear,” I said, conspiratorially to him as I leaned in closer. He leaned in as well as I whispered softly. “It’s really easy to not be afraid of something if you have no fucking clue what it is.”

Talon sat straight up and fixed me with an annoyed, yet still comical, expression. 

“You’re telling me you don’t know what a Garou is? The hell is your sire teaching you?” he asked me, keeping his voice low enough that the mortals couldn’t hear, but loud enough for the table. 

“He doesn’t have one,” Callie supplied, recovering enough from her fear that she was able to twist the knife in front of the newcomers. 

“Well, I have one, somewhere,” I said, shrugging. “That has yet to be revealed.”

“Revealed to who, is the question, though,” Cassandra said, her voice dreamy in a way, as if she wasn’t really here with us. “But the stage is set and the players are cast. The script… oh the script… which mask will it wear? Which tale will it tear? Will the tear cause tears or alleviate fears and bury us in the bricks we’ll need to collect before setting the tower to crash alongside us?”

I, along with the others, had turned to look at Cassandra as she recited whatever it was she was seeing, hearing, or perceiving that the rest of us weren’t privy to. When I turned back to look at the group, I found five pairs of eyes all looking at me expectantly. My eyes met each of theirs in turn before I just shrugged. 

“What? I can’t translate all of it,” I said, defensively. “That was more Cassandra than it was Nicole.” 

“Actually it was more Sybil,” Cassandra responded. 

“Who the fuck is Sybil?” I asked, feeling a headache beginning to form at the bridge of my nose. Most impressive, considering we didn’t really have the capabilities to get these kinds of tension migraines as animated corpses, but she was managing it. 

“Her beast, as far as I can figure,” Artemis answered for her. 

“She named the damned thing?” I asked. 

“Back on track!” Talon’s deep, low rumbling voice cut through us. “Garous. You don’t know what they are and they may be in your city. But your people know. We don’t have time for a full lesson.” 

“Werewolves,” Isadora said, plainly. 

“Ah,” I nodded. “Got’cha.” 

“They hate being called that,” Artemis warned. “And it’s a lot more complicated than she’s making it out to be.” 

“I’m sure it is,” I smiled at them. “Good luck on your mission, and please don’t let anything happen to Cassandra. She’s a dear friend and if harmed I’d have to put my entire plan on hiatus here to come kill whatever did it.” 

“You, kill Garou?” Amir practically laughed. “Now I know you have no idea what you’re talking about, young blood.”

“About Garou? You’re not wrong, but I do realize how dangerous they are,” I said with a shrug. “A Gangrel and a Brujah are scared of them. The Ventrue who refuses to let any of us see her weaknesses, though I’ve clocked several of them, didn’t even bother to hide how terrified she was. The Lasombra, from what I’ve heard tale of, one of the most feared clans when it comes to combat prowess, vanished from just hearing the word, and Isadora here is clinging to me as if the idea of these creatures would rip her completely out of existence. I get it, they’re scary.” 

They all looked at me for a moment, even Cassandra seemed to come out of her stupor to study me. It was Artemis who broke the silence first, which did not surprise me in the slightest. Their group didn’t have anyone in charge, but she was by far their leader. 

“If you realize how scary these things are…” she asked, and I could hear the challenge in her voice. The test. She wanted to remember exactly what I was about to say to her because it would determine for her the value of my entire existence. “Then why aren’t you scared?”

“I am,” I said, smiling at her. “But fear isn’t the cause of inaction. That would be cowardice. And you can ask Nicole about Bryan and how petty he could be, how self destructive he could be, how… creative he could be… when someone hurt something he cared about.” 

I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice, and smiling so my short fangs were visible in the moonlight. 

“Then ask yourself, what would a mortal like that do to something if given access to the tools of Tremere himself?” 

For a brief moment, fear flickered across Artemis’ eyes. It may have been fear of me, but I doubted that. No, the fear she felt for that instant, was a fear of ever having to find out how much truth was in my words, and an even greater fear of what could happen if there hadn’t been any lie. 

Leaning back, I settled back into my bench, Isadora’s constant grip a comfort in the moment as I turned and looked at the now-Cassandra. 

“How are you doing?” I asked her, trying to pull my old mortal self into my tone. 

“Better than some, worse than others,” she said, shrugging. “Sometimes I’m more lucid than others, but this close to them, I feel it slipping. But we have people now, people to talk to about this. And better yet, we have each other to talk to about this. We’re not alone. Never have been, and now, never will be.” 

I smiled at her answer, and nodded. 

“You’re right,” I agreed, nodding. “We won’t be. But I suppose the sooner you all get to the coast the safer you’ll be. You are indeed racing the sun, but the next time you come through here, stop by. I’d like to have an actual chance to catch up. Not just online.” 

“You bet’cha!” Cassandra said, excitedly, causing me to smile. But it was a sad smile, as I realized that at this moment, Cassandra was almost all encompassing and Nicole was asleep. Perhaps next time, when she was more lucid, I’d get to see my friend more. We wished them well, saw them off, and turned to walk back to the car, Diego slipping from the shadows to rejoin us. 

“They seemed nice,” he said, sheepishly, not able to meet my eyes. “Especially your friend, Grey.”

“They were,” I agreed. “I’ll need to check in with Nic… Cassandra more often.” 

“Why aren’t you using her real name?” Callie asked, her tone sharp. Then she turned her venom on Diego. “And why are you still using that ridiculous name? It isn’t his name.”

“It is,” Isadora said, her tone final. 

“No! You heard him, he admitted it!” Callie hissed angrily. “He told us his real name is Bryan, not Grey!” 

“Grey is his name, now,” Isadora reaffirmed. “He chose it. We’ll respect it.” 

Callie looked at her in disbelief. “He lied to you. I thought that meant something.” 

Isadora’s arm was no longer wrapped around mine. I’d blinked and her hand was gripping Callie’s throat tightly, her eyes black as pitch as she stared into the shocked, fearful eyes of the Ventrue. 

“Accusations are powerful, delicate things, like daggers made of glass,” Isadora whispered in a voice that was more terrifying than any shout. “Be careful what accusations you throw about, little queen-without-a-crown, lest you’re harmed by your own shrapnel.” 

Just as quickly as she’d grabbed Callie, Isadora released her and returned to my side. 

“We’ll travel back to the haven separately,” she said, pulling me away from Callie, whom Diego was helping to her feet. “Too many people walking together draws attention. Two couples won’t.” 

Before either Diego or Callie could protest, I felt the shadows of oblivion wrap around us, hiding us from their senses as we moved away into the night. Isadora’s steps echoed strangely in the blackness that surrounded us, but soon enough the shades of gray lifted and I found us walking along a verdant greenway. 

“Where are we?” I asked, quietly, unsure of who might be around. 

“Little Sugar Creek Greenway,” Isadora said. “It was nearby and it will take us to Freedom Park, which isn’t too far from the haven. I hope you don’t mind the walk. It may take us a few hours.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, and honestly meant it. “I guess you needed the time to cool off after Callie…” 

At the sound of her name, Isadora’s grip tightened painfully on my arm. 

“Don’t want to talk about her, got it,” I said, and felt her arm release. “Though can I ask you one question?” 

I felt her grip tighten again, as if unsure. 

“Why did you defend me?” I asked, bluntly. “Back there, when she said I’d lied. I would have understood if you’d interpreted what I didn’t say as a lie, but you defended me. Pretty aggressively, not that I’m complaining.” 

“My clan,” she answered simply, though not satisfactorily. 

“What?” I asked. 

“When you were saying our clans, explaining our reactions and what you read from them to fully understand the Garou threat, you named everyone’s clan,” she said, turning her eyes to meet mine. For the first time, I realized they weren’t brown, but hazel. “You didn’t name my clan.” 

“I only knew your clan because the Baroness told me what you were, and you confirmed it,” I said, shrugging. “You seem to go out of your way not to broadcast what you are. I don’t even know if Callie knows… ow… okay, I don’t even know if the Ventrue knows what your clan is.” 

Switching to the clan name apparently was the right move, as Isadora eased the pressure off my arm. 

“That is why I defended you,” Isadora said, casting her eyes down. “You inferred that I did not want my clan known, and you kept my secret. You did not lie to hide my clan, just as you did not lie to hide your old name. You elected not to share a secret that caused pain to the one who carried it.” 

She nodded her head, as if confirming something to herself. 

“That is why I defended you,” she repeated, but I could tell from her voice that she was ending the conversation there. 

I was fine with that. There is no need to complicate a lovely walk with words when the silence has become comfortable.