----------------------------------------
Chapter Ten
----------------------------------------

Vic drifted into wakefulness not long before sunset. It was a little
strange, being able to tell how low the sun was on the horizon from
inside with his eyes closed, but it looked like his life was going
to be strange from now on. He was a vampire. Even just thinking the
words was weird.

As he grew more aware of his surroundings, he could hear voices: The
Director and Mac. Mac sounded like his normal self, he was relieved
to note, so he hadn't suffered any harm the night before from Vic's
feeding.

The thought of that feeding woke the mental snarl that the Director
had called 'the Hunger.' It remembered the taste of Mac's blood,
sweeter than sweet, more intoxicating than the finest wine. Vic
could feel his fangs pushing out; yet another strange sensation that
was now part of his life. Afterlife. Whatever.

Deciding that he'd delayed long enough, Vic opened his eyes and
pushed up into a seated position. Instantly, the conversation
stopped and all eyes were focused on him. He shifted uncomfortable,
suddenly remembering that he was still naked. They hadn't given him
any clothes before locking Mac in with him.

"How's LiAnn?" he asked, remembering Marcus having her by the
throat. She hadn't looked good.

"Sleeping Beauty finally wakes," the Director said, a small smile on
her lips. "LiAnn is going to be fine. She has a concussion, but
she's already doing better. How do *you* feel?"

Vic licked his lips, wincing as he cut his tongue on a fang, and
considered the question. "Pretty good, I guess," he admitted. He
glanced down at his stomach and noted that there was no trace of
where a piece of metal had made a large, fatal hole. "Better than I
should." The snarl intensified. "Hungry."

Immediately, Mac started to roll up his sleeve, but the Director
waved him off. "Here," she said, holding out her own arm. Vic
flinched; feeding off her was *not* an appealing idea, although he
couldn't quite explain why. "Victor," she said in a tone that made
it clear that this was an order, not an invitation.

Carefully keeping the bedspread wrapped around his waist, Vic moved
closer to her and bit into the proffered wrist.

Despite his reluctance, the Hunger quickly took over and he
swallowed greedily. The difference was actually quite interesting.
Her blood didn't have the bubbling life of Mac's, but there was an
earthiness to it. Like an aged Scotch instead of Champagne;
different, but just as intoxicating. A little more mellow than
Cash's blood, he thought, and wondered if every person's blood would
be as different to his taste buds. Then he stiffened when he
realized that he was seriously considering going out and conducting
a taste-test.

"Enough."

At the order, he pulled away, pausing only long enough to lick the
wound. He'd noticed during his feedings from Mac the night before
that his saliva seemed to heal the puncture wounds his fangs left.

The Director nodded, pleased. "And Julian didn't think you could
learn control this fast. I'm glad to see you're living up to my
expectations."

"Expectations? You were *expecting* this?" Vic asked, a little
outraged. She frowned at him and he had to fight to keep from
cringing.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said in a stern tone. "Of course I wasn't
expecting this. As I told Mac when he came to me after finding out
about the Kindred from Cash, I brought the three of you with me to
see if you would figure it out. Becoming targets was *not* in my
plans for you. Being Embraced Gangrel *definitely* wasn't in my
plans either."

The emphasis didn't go unnoticed and Vic's eyes narrowed. "What sort
of Embrace *were* you planning?" he asked, not sure he liked the
idea.

She stared at him levelly for a moment. "Brujah, actually," she
finally said, not bothering to deny the implication that she *was*
going to have him Embraced, possibly whether he liked it or not.

"Are you *nuts*!?" Mac exploded. "Those thugs?"

The Director turned a glare on him that did little to quell his
outrage. "Do not judge an entire clan on a single bad example," she
said, ignoring his muttered 'four bad examples, you mean.' "And
don't judge the Gangrel based just on Cash. They aren't necessarily
any better and you would be wise to remember that."

Mac looked like he wanted to protest, but Vic cut him off before he
could start and get himself in big trouble. "Fine. So now I'm a
Gangrel. Just what exactly does that *mean*?"

"As a member of the clan or the race?" she asked, allowing herself
to be deflected.

"Let's start with the big picture first. What exactly is a Kindred
and what does it mean?"

The Director leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on
her face. "Well, we don't have time for long explanations; I do have
to get to the meetings for tonight. However, I will give you a quick
history lesson.

"The story, as passed through the generations, sounds more like myth
than history, and maybe it is just myth. Then again, maybe it isn't.

"I'm sure you both know the story of Cain and Abel?" She waited
until they both nodded, before continuing. "According to the Bible,
God marked Cain for the crime of killing his brother and he went
into exile in the Land of Nod. About what that mark was, nothing is
said.

"According to Kindred lore, the mark of God made Cain the first
vampire. He sought out his father's first wife, Lilith and from her
he learned how to use the new disciplines that his mark gave him.
When he felt she'd taught him everything she could, he left. He
traveled until he found a town of humans and with his abilities,
they made him their king and he lived among them for a time, content.

"But as time went by, he became lonely. Despite warning omens, he
chose to Embrace three Childer so that he would have others like him
for companions. But the three became uncontrollable, Embracing
without care. About the time of the great Flood, their own Childer
rose up and destroyed them, and Cain withdrew, never to be seen
again, although he did still affect Kindred history after that. Some
say that the Nosferatu's disfigurement was a curse from Cain for
some long-ago crime.

"The clans of the Kindred are each supposed to be descended from one
of Cain's grand-Childer. Each clan has certain traits and abilities
passed on through the Embrace, as well as those that are common to
the entire race. In each generation removed from Cain those abilities
are weaker, but there are benefits to that, although some would call
them flaws.

"For example, sunlight can kill, but unlike the Vampires of legends,
not immediately. In fact, you are of a generation far enough removed
that sunlight won't be *too* much of a problem for you. The older
generations sneer at that, but I think it's a benefit, don't you?
But I would recommend you avoid bright, sunny days.

"A stake through the heart won't kill you, but it will immobilize
you and weaken you enough that sunlight or fire *will* kill you. As
for garlic, running water and holy symbols? Pure invention. Forget
about them.

"As for the specific abilities of a Gangrel, I will arrange for a
teacher once we return to Toronto. You will learn about them then.
For now, concentrate on controlling the Hunger. That is the first
and most important lesson that any fledgling must learn. Questions?"

Vic shook his head, more to clear it than anything else. "A
million," he said ruefully.

She snorted. "Unfortunately, there isn't time to answer them all.
Make a list. I'll decide which ones I'll answer later. In the
meantime, I need to be going. LiAnn is down the hall, but the two of
you will remain here. Oh, don't worry, Victor. Now that the initial
change is finished, you won't need to feed quite as much. Mac is
quite capable of safely supplying you with what you need for
tonight."

She paused and eyed him speculatively. "Mac, go tell Cash to have
the car ready," she ordered, then waited until he'd left the room.
"Victor, I know you aren't very happy about it, but yes, I did
intend to have you Embraced, probably later this year. But not until
you knew what it meant."

"Why?" Vic had to ask.

She patted his hand. "You are very valuable to me, however I'm sure
you've realized though that you can't go on working as a field agent
for much longer." Vic nodded, remembering his musings on that just a
few nights earlier. "Well, now that won't be a problem, other than
the fact that you'll have to do most of your work at night. You're
still in your prime and now you will stay there until you die. You
should be pleased."

Vic wasn't so sure about that, but he held his tongue. After all,
Cash had offered him a choice and he'd taken the chance at life. He
couldn't complain now about what that life was.

The Director got to her feet and headed for the door. Then she
paused and turned around. "And I was quite serious about control,"
she said sternly. "Tomorrow night, you need to make it through the
party without giving yourself away to the non-Kindred. If you can do
that, I will believe that you can be safely taken on a plane. If
not..." The implied threat was obvious. Vic nodded, completely
incapable of breaking eye-contact with her.

"I'm glad you understand," she said. Then her eyes narrowed, and she
muttered something to herself, too low for him to understand. For
some reason, Vic found the movement of her lips fascinating.

"The car is ready," Mac said, reappearing in the doorway. He eyed
the two of them suspiciously, obviously wondering about what they'd
been talking about while he was gone. Vic had already noticed just
how protective of him the younger man had become in the short time
since the shooting and it amused him. After all, *he* was the
supernatural creature now.

The Director left and the door was once again locked behind her.
This time though, Vic was a little more confident. The Hunger seemed
to be asleep and he'd proven to himself -- and everyone else -- that
he could control himself.

He was also starting to feel a little better about what he'd become.
Last night he hadn't had the time to really think about what he was
being offered before accepting. Maybe it would have been different
if he were the religious type. As it was, the whole story about
being 'descended' from Cain was just that to him: A story.

But he was still surprised that he *was* reacting so well. The
concept of living off blood was a little disturbing, but the Hunger
had overcome his natural revulsion easily enough. And the taste...
well, the taste was addictive, he'd already found.

But even that wouldn't have been enough to save his sanity if he
hadn't quickly found out that *killing* wasn't a requirement of
feeding. If it had been, he would have found a way to kill himself,
even if he had to starve himself to death to do it. Killing a gunman
in a fight was one thing. He was *not* going to go around killing
people just so he could eat.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Vic said thoughtfully.

"Good." Mac chewed on his lower lip for a moment, looking around the
room. Vic wasn't hungry and it wasn't like there was a TV or anything
to distract them. Mac started opening cupboards and drawers. "So
what did the queen vamp want to say in private?"

Vic winced and prayed that Mac never used that term around the
Director. Her sense of humor was a little strange and she might just
laugh. Then again, she might assign him to the dirtiest job around.
"Just pointing out some of the advantages of this change."

"Like what?" Mac asked, perking up with curiosity.

"Mainly the never aging bit."

Mac looked like he didn't quite understand, but he nodded and went
back to searching the room. Vic rolled his eyes. At ten years younger
than him, Mac wasn't going to be facing the same aging problem for a
long time yet. He'd understand in a few years when he woke up aching
on a regular basis, or found that he couldn't quite touch his toes
anymore.

"Aha!" Mac said triumphantly, pulling a pack of cards and a curved
board with two lines of peg-holes carved into it from a drawer.
"Cribbage, anyone?"

Vic snorted, then waved Mac over. He hated cribbage, but at least it
was a way to pass the time.

>>>~~~<<<

Maybe it was the fact that he'd fully changed -- whatever that meant
-- or maybe the Director's blood was more... filling. Whatever it
was, it was just past midnight before the Hunger made itself felt
again.

It was slow to start this time. He and Mac had abandoned the cribbage
board for other games earlier. Two-handed poker wasn't much fun, so
they'd played war for a while, then finally resorted to trading off
games of solitaire.

Vic was leaning over Mac's shoulder, still wrapped in a sheet,
kibitzing on the younger man's game when he found his eyes being
drawn more and more to the large vein pulsing right below his ear.
The first couple of times it happened, he ignored it, but when it
happened three times in as many minutes, he finally got the point.
The Hunger was just a muted hum in the back of his mind, expressing
an interest, not a need.

"Um... Vic?"

Vic shook off thoughts of just how sweet Mac's blood had been and
moved back. "Sorry about that," he muttered, a little embarrassed at
how he'd practically been drooling all over the man's neck.

"Hey, it's okay. If it's time, just say so."

"You sure?"

Mac rolled his eyes. "Would you just do it already?" he said,
sounding exasperated.

Giving in to the need, Vic leaned forward and started to lick Mac's
neck. They'd used the wrist the night before, but the long column of
the man's neck was just too tempting to resist. When Mac's head fell
back, he sank his fangs into the vein and started to suck.

Vic moaned deep in his throat as the flavor exploded in his mouth.
It was even better than he remembered. He definitely preferred it to
the taste of the Director's blood, but he wasn't sure if it was the
difference between human and Kindred or just the different between
the persons in question.

Despite the temptation to keep drinking, Vic withdrew after only a
few swallows, carefully licking the marks away. As he did so, he
inhaled deeply. Somehow, every scent was sharper, stronger. He could
smell Mac's supper, even thought the tray was long gone. He could
smell the lemon of the polish used to clean all the wood in the room.

And over it all, he could smell the musk of a man's arousal --
*Mac's* arousal -- and it was even more intoxicating than the taste
of his blood.

At that moment, the smart thing would have been to move back, get
some distance between them, but Vic found that he couldn't. Giving
in to an urge that he couldn't explain, he buried his face in the
crook of Mac's neck, only this time, instead of using fangs he used
his lips, nuzzling the sensitive skin there.

"Vic..." Mac moaned. There was no protest in his voice.

Vic lifted his face and turned Mac to face him. The younger man's
expression was glazed and his pupils were dilated until his eyes
were almost completely black. "Mac," Vic murmured, then covered his
mouth with his own. The lips immediately parted and he took the
implied invitation, diving in to explore.

Once he was satisfied that he'd examined every square centimeter,
Vic moved on, needing more. He'd tasted Mac's blood, then his mouth,
and now he was possessed by the need to taste everything else.

He kissed, nibbled and licked his way around Mac's face, absently
noting how soft the fresh-shaven skin was against his lips. Mac was
starting to sweat and he savored the salty taste as he lapped up the
liquid dotting his forehead and upper lip.

He continued his way down the neck he'd so recently been feeding
from, mapping out every spot that made Mac moan, until he was stymied
by the collar of the man's shirt. A quick pull, accompanied by the
sound of ripping fabric, quickly disposed of that obstacle.

Mac's chest was a forest of dark hair, almost making him self-
conscious about his own, mostly smooth flesh. LiAnn had always told
him that she preferred her men smooth, but he took that with a grain
of salt considering how long she and Mac had been lovers. She was
very good at telling people what she thought they wanted to hear.

Mac's nipples were very sensitive, he was delighted to find, and he
spent a long time tormenting them with sucking and nibbling until
they were red and swollen and Mac was starting to protest. Deciding
to humor him, Vic moved instead to bury his nose in the man's damp
armpit, licking up more of the fragrant sweat there. Once the hair
was completely saliva-soaked, he transferred his attention to the
other side, repeating the process there.

But there was another place where the sweat-musk would be even
stronger, he realized, so he licked his way down further until he
reached the waist of Mac's pants. That didn't delay him any more
than the shirt had. He barely noticed Mac protesting as he ripped
the fabric apart. Underneath, Mac wasn't wearing underpants, he
noted with a grin. A convenient time-saver for him.

All clothing now disposed of, Vic buried his face in Mac's thick
bush. The smell of Mac's musk made his head spin as he inhaled
deeply. Then he started licking, working his way around the base of
Mac's erection. It was large and almost purple in color, with pre-
cum rolling down the sides. He decided to save *that* taste of last
and moved to suck on the man's balls instead. They were swollen and
heavy in their sack and he sucked first one then the other into his
mouth. He briefly considered trying to fit both in at the same time,
but decided regretfully that they were too large for that.

By this time, Mac's hands were desperately trying to get a hold of
his hair, pulling him towards the erection that looked almost
painfully hard. He begged continuously in sounds that could barely
be considered part of the English language. Vic decided to take pity
on him and licked his way up the erection, catching every drop of
pearly fluid as he went, until he reached the head.

Vic ran his tongue over it in a slow circle and decided that the
fluid there tasted just as good as Mac's blood, but then he'd always
loved the taste of semen. The one night he'd spent with Moorcock the
year before had reawakened old hungers and now he was ready to
indulge himself completely. He probed the slit for more of that
fluid and was rewarded with a small spurt that he let roll over his
tongue and down his throat.

The Hunger was roaring now, just not for blood, and while he wanted
to draw this out, he knew that Mac was too close to the edge of pain
for any more teasing. He took the top half of Mac's erection into
his mouth and sucked while he wrapped his fist around the base and
started to pump. Mac writhed under him babbling and when he glanced
upwards, the brown eyes that met his were completely mindless.

Too soon -- or maybe not soon enough -- Mac howled and thrust
upwards, pumping out shot after shot of semen. Vic held it in his
mouth for as long as possible, then let it slowly slide down his
throat. Most of his past lovers would have spat, but *he* wasn't
going to waste a drop. Besides, he would bet that he couldn't catch
anything... unpleasant anymore, so he didn't need to worry if his
lover was clean or not.

He let Mac's softening cock slip from his mouth with a sigh of
regret. He gave it a couple licks and Mac moaned, but didn't move.

But the Hunger still wasn't completely satisfied, and he started to
caress Mac's inner thighs. He nuzzled the base of the cock in front
of him, but all it did was twitch a little, so he moved lower to
suck on Mac's balls again.

Mac gasped and spread his legs wider. Vic slipped his hands under
the man's thighs and pushed them up and back, exposing Mac further.
He softly scraped Mac's perineum with his teeth, enjoying the
resulting jump, then zeroed in on his new target.

He slowly swiped the tight opening with his tongue and felt it
twitch in reaction. The flavor was musky but clean, with a hint of
soap from an earlier shower. He'd never had the urge to rim anyone
before, but he couldn't resist. It was the one part of Mac that he
hadn't tasted yet.

The Hunger was roaring now and he hardened his tongue into a point
and started to probe. Every so often, he backed off long enough to
work up some more spit, getting everything good and wet. Somewhere
along the line, Mac grabbed his own legs and pulled his knees back
almost to his chest, letting Vic concentrate on what he was doing.

And the noises Mac was making were wildly enthusiastic about what
Vic was doing to him. When he checked, Vic found that Mac was
already half-hard again and he gave the man's cock a slow pull as he
drove his tongue in as far as it would go.

But that wasn't far enough. He needed to get deeper. He switched to
using his fingers, but while the heat squeezing them felt good, it
still wasn't enough.

He moved back up Mac's body and paused with the head of his own
neglected erection slowly rubbing against Mac's twitching entrance.
Desperate brown eyes met his and the younger man grabbed him,
steadily chanting "do it do it do it do it..."

Obeying the desperate order, Vic slowly pressed into the saliva-
lubricated passage. The rim job had been thorough enough that there
were no signs of discomfort on Mac's face, assuming that he was in
any condition to notice.

When he finally hit bottom, he stopped and they both moaned. Mac fit
him like a glove. He pulled Mac's head up a little so that they
could kiss, then started to thrust.

They quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm, like they'd been doing
this for years. Mac's legs moved to wrap around his waist and he
used the resulting leverage to increase the pace. His fingernails
scratched at Vic's back and he knew it was going to sting like hell
when they were done.

"Mac..." he moaned, and dropped his face to the man's neck.

"Oh fuck, Vic, God," was the incoherent reply. One of Mac's hands
moved down so that he could stroke himself and Vic responded by
thrusting even harder. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh was
loud in the room, even louder than their grunts and moans.

Finally, Mac threw his head back and was coming again, although
there was nowhere near as much fluid this time. As Mac's ass went
into spasms around his cock, Vic's fangs dropped and he bit down on
Mac's shoulder with a roar. The sudden spurt of blood in his mouth
pushed him over the edge and he pumped his own semen deep inside his
partner.

The Hunger finally satisfied, Vic collapsed on top of Mac and
slipped into darkness.

>>>~~~<<<

Sometime later, Vic woke with a pounding headache. He felt like he
was coming down off an all-night bender and the taste of blood was
strong in his mouth. When he looked down, he was horrified to see
fresh smears on Mac's shoulder. The bite marks were obvious, just
starting to scab over. How could he have been so careless?

He still wasn't sure what had come over him. He had *never* used
anyone like that before. Sure, Mac hadn't protested -- hell, he'd
participated enthusiastically -- but it didn't change the fact that
he'd basically *raped* the man, and he didn't even know why. All he
knew was that he'd looked at the man and had been hit with an
overwhelming need to have him.

And oh, how he'd had him.

But it wasn't going to happen again, he told himself sternly. He
didn't want to be another notch on the man's bedpost. Maybe, if he
thought that Mac was willing to commit to a real relationship...

Then again, maybe not. Mac was his partner and best friend and he
wasn't sure he was willing to risk *that* relationship, no matter
how good the sex had been. In the end, sleeping with Stan had ruined
*their* friendship. He wasn't going to let that happen to him again.

But looking down at the sleeping man, he couldn't help wishing that
things were different. Mac was an important part of his life and he
knew that he could easily fall in love with the man. Hell, in a way,
he already had.

Perhaps someday he would find someone else to share his life,
although that seemed less likely now. After all, who would want to
settle down with a vampire?

But for the moment, he would have to be happy with watching this man
sleep curled up against him and indulge himself in fantasies where
that was where he belonged.

----------------------------------------
Chapter Eleven
----------------------------------------

When the sun came up, Vic lapsed once more into a coma-like state.
Mac found it more that a little disturbing -- the man wasn't even
breathing -- but took comfort in the fact that it was just temporary.
He preferred not to think about how close it had come to being
permanent.

He went into the attached bathroom to shower and shave, washing off
the last traces of sweat, semen and blood left from the night before.
His ass ached, but it was a pleasant sort of ache.

When he came back out, the door was unlocked. He pulled his clothes
back on, trying to ignore how wrinkled they were -- couldn't someone
have bothered to supply them with clean clothing? -- and headed
downstairs to find food and slightly more lively company. He was
feeling dizzy and light-headed, no doubt due to blood loss, and he
was hungry.

"Mac! How are you feeling?"

Mac smiled brightly at the sight of the man who'd really been the
start of all this: Cash. He hadn't seen the man since they'd arrived
at the estate and was glad to see that the man was in one piece and
looking unconcerned. "Starved. Where can someone who *doesn't* live
off blood get a meal?"

"Come on, I'm sure we can find you something in the kitchen. I
didn't see you yesterday."

Mac followed as the Gangrel led the way. "I slept most of the day.
Exhausted, I guess. The Director must have left orders though, since
there was a food tray there every time I woke up."

"She does seem rather protective of her people."

The kitchen was deserted, but the cupboards and fridge were well-
stocked, although the baggies of blood, he tried to ignore. Still,
he found that strange and said so as he pulled out eggs and bacon
and bread for toast. He wasn't a cook, but scrambled eggs he could
handle.

Cash laughed. "Julian is a corporate head," he pointed out. "He
entertains a lot. Plus, it keeps up appearances to have groceries
delivered."

"The Masquerade."

"Exactly."

"And you two are... okay? I mean, you aren't in trouble over what
happened with Vic?"

Cash shrugged. "He was pissed, but more with Marcus than anyone
else. Toronto speaking on my behalf helped. Cameron's pushing to
have me punished, but considering that it was *his* Brujah broke
Truce, he doesn't have a lot of say in it. The Brujah have lost a
lot of power over this," he added with a feral glee.

Mac's eyes narrowed. "You *really* don't like them, do you," he said
more than asked.

"No," was the fierce reply. Then Cash relaxed a little. "Gangrel and
Brujah have always been enemies," he explained, "but for me it's a
little more personal. A couple of years ago, I was in love with a
niece of Julian's, Sasha. Last of his family's line. Julian gave me
permission to Embrace her as Gangrel, but Eddie Fiori, the previous
Brujah Primogen, sent one of his thugs to Embrace her by force. He
was trying to push Julian into making an illegal move. The Prince
might make the laws, but he isn't above them, and Eddie was too
strong to slap down at the time.."

Mac hissed. "What happened to her? And him?"

"The Brujah who Embraced her was killed for it, torn to pieces.
Eddie died a little while later. He finally stepped over the line
and was executed. And Sasha..." Cash sighed and dropped his eyes.
"We tried to work it out, but the blood instincts were tearing her
apart. Finally, she decided to leave town. I haven't seen her since.
Last I heard, she was in New Orleans and rising through the Brujah
ranks there." The regret was clear in his voice.

"But I thought you and Julian were lovers," Mac said in confusion,
looking up from the frying pan.

"We are." Cash grinned at his expression. "Kindred rules are
different from human rules. Monogamy is not very common. At the
time, Julian was sleeping with a human woman who worked for him,
Lillie and me. Lillie was sleeping with him, Zane and Cameron. And
there was this cop that they were both trying to seduce. Julian got
him first, then Lillie, but he eventually chose Gangrel." Cash
smirked, obviously self-satisfied over that.

Mac shook his head. "I don't think I could live like that," he said.
He slept with a lot of people, but never at the same time.

Cash shrugged. "Things change when you're Embraced. When you're
looking at a life-span potentially of centuries, some things aren't
as important. Plus, we're immune to human diseases, which is handy
these days."

"What about love?" Mac asked, dropping his breakfast onto a plate
and sitting down.

"Oh, we love. Believe me, we love. But love and sex aren't
necessarily connected. Plus, the Hunger is driven by more than just
blood, as you've already found out." The grin he gave Mac was
wicked, and Mac shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Right," Cash drawled. "That's why you winced when you sat down. And
you reek of semen, I might add."

"I showered!"

Cash tapped the side of his nose. "Kindred have sharper senses."

Mac deflated. "I don't know what the hell happened," he muttered.

"Hey, you wanted him, he wanted you. What else matters?"

"Only it wasn't like that," Mac said. "It was out of the blue.
Totally unexpected."

"And great?"

"Oh, yeah," Mac breathed, remembering. "At the time, at least."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know! It was so intense that I passed out, and I've never
done that before. But when I woke up, it was like it never happened.
He wouldn't talk about it. He would barely even look at me. It was
like he felt guilty or something."

"Maybe he did. If he was swept away by the Hunger, he might feel
like he took advantage of you. Don't worry, he'll get over it."

"Maybe," Mac said helplessly. "It was weird, though. The look in his
eyes... It was like he wasn't quite there. And afterwards, every so
often I'd catch him looking at me with this confused expression."

Cash frowned thoughtfully while Mac worked his way through the
oversized plate of bacon and eggs. He didn't usually eat breakfast,
but he was starved. "I wish I could tell you more, but the blood-
bond between us is very weak."

"Blood-bond?" Mac asked around a mouthful.

"When a Kindred feeds someone their blood, it gives them a link to
that person," Cash said, falling into a lecture tone. "They become
the most important thing in that person's world. It also gives them
an influence over the person. Actually, I'm a little surprised at
how weak my link to Vic is, so soon after the Embrace. Either he's
extremely strong-willed, or someone is interfering."

Mac's eyes narrowed as he remembered the night before. "Would the
Director ordering Vic to feed off of her do it?"

"Yeah. A more recent bond to an older vampire..." He paused. "And
she's Ventrue. One of their traits is Dominate. It lets them
influence others, *especially* those they have a blood-bond with."

"What, you mean like mind control?" Mac asked in disbelief.

"Not completely. More like implanting a suggestion."

Mac sighed. "Like an urge to have sex with your partner? Great. Just
great." He liked that even less than Vic having second thoughts.
"Why?"

Cash shook his head. "Who knows? She's Ventrue *and* a Prince. If
she did it, I'm sure she has her reasons, but don't expect to
understand them. Hell, I love Julian and I've been with him for more
than a decade, but understand him? Not often.

"The blood-bond, sure. She would want Vic bound to her, not someone
out of town. Ventrue are big into control. The sex, if she's
responsible, is probably for similar reasons. She wants to tie Vic
to her. Probably you too."

Mac wasn't sure how getting him sleeping with Vic would do that, but
it made a certain amount of sense. The Director was very good at
manipulations. Hell, there were times when she manipulated them just
for the fun of it.

But if what had happened the night before *was* the Director's
doing, what did it mean for him and Vic? He knew the ex-cop well; if
Vic thought he'd been manipulated into sleeping with Mac, he might
walk. Certainly, he'd never touch Mac again; a decidedly unpleasant
thought.

But he couldn't help thinking that he should be more careful about
what he wished for in the future. He'd wanted one no-strings-
attached night with the man and he'd gotten it. Now he had to deal
with the consequences.

"Good morning, boys. Have a good night?"

The suggestive tone and the speculative look that the Director gave
him as she came into the room moved the idea that she'd arranged
things from the 'maybe' list to 'almost certain.' Mac resolved to
make sure that Vic never found out, for both their sakes.

Mac watched in sick fascination as she pulled one of the small
baggies of blood from the fridge and stuck a straw in it to sip
delicately, like one of those juice packs that kids drank. "Just
dandy," he said, dragging his eyes up to meet an amused gaze. "Would
have been better if we'd had more than a deck of cards to amuse
ourselves with, though."

"Oh, I'm sure you found... something to pass the time." She looked
him up and down with a smug expression, her nose no doubt as sharp
as Cash's.

Okay, forget 'almost certain.' It was definite. But why?

"So," Mac said, dumping his dishes in the sink and starting the
water running. "How come you two are up and about while Vic's doing
a zombie impression upstairs?" Never let it be said that Mac Ramsey
couldn't avoid a subject.

The Director chuckled, but it was Cash who answered. "The change
takes a lot of energy, so he needs to sleep a lot. Plus, his body
is adjusting to a nocturnal schedule. Forcing him to sleep all day
is the fastest way to do that. Give him a week or two and he'll be
able to function after sunrise."

"Indoors," the Director added. "It will take a little longer to
build up any sort of resistance to sunlight. A year or two, at
least."

"Is that why you can go out in the sun; because you're... um...
older?" Mac asked, trying to be diplomatic. He could remember seeing
the Director outdoors during the day on a few rare occasions.

"Partly. I dress to cover. Plus, the Agency scientists have
developed a handy makeup foundation that provides some added
protection."

"Really?" Cash perked up.

"Yes, really. Don't worry, the formula one of the things I handed
out during the meetings. It will be up to the individual Princes
whether they tell any of their people about it, or keep it for
themselves.

"But I do prefer the night," she said, returning to the original
topic. "It's more... subtle."

Subtle wasn't necessarily a word that usually to mind when thinking
about the Director, but Mac kept his mouth shut.

"Well," she said as he finished washing up. "I've arranged to have
our luggage delivered here. Remember that the party is tonight. You
know what to wear. And, no," she added from the doorway on the way
out, "you may *not* skip the accessories. Ta, ta!"

"Accessories?" Cash asked, one eyebrow gone up.

"Don't ask," Mac said with a groan. "Please."

>>>~~~<<<

Cash had to leave after that, having work to do for Julian, so Mac
found himself at loose ends. He watched Cash drive away in a car
with darkly-tinted windows, then decided that he didn't really want
to return to the 'scene of the crime.' Instead, he went exploring.

The Luna estate screamed money: old money and lots of it. On the
ground floor alone he saw five paintings that if fenced together
would bring in six-figures easily. His fingers twitched with old
instincts, but he restrained the urge. He wasn't a thief anymore.
Besides, he now knew enough to know that stealing from Luna would
probably be a very stupid thing to do.

But still, that miniature in the dining room was *very* tempting.
Easily portable too.

And it wasn't just paintings. The sculptures were just as fine in
quality and value. Bronze, marble and plaster. Ancient, Renaissance
and modern. It was almost like a museum. And in the library were a
selection of rare first editions, some signed by the author. A
couple were even personally inscribed to Julian himself. The boy got
around.

The safe was easy to find, but he left it alone. Mac's curiosity was
running away with him, speculating on what treasures might be
inside, but decided that getting caught at it would be bad thing. He
left the computer alone for the same reason.

Upstairs looked to be mostly living areas: bedrooms, bathrooms and
the occasional sitting room. As he tried doorknobs, he found most of
them locked. The few that weren't led to rooms that were obviously
not in use at the moment. Again, Mac restrained his curiosity.

Besides, his lock-pick set was back in Toronto.

By that point, he'd killed a couple hours and the only part of the
building he hadn't checked out was the cellar. An estate like this
had to have one, for the wine if nothing else, but he couldn't find
the stairs. He wondered why anyone would bother concealing the
stairs to the cellar. Maybe it had been converted to dungeons, he
thought with a grin. The grin quickly disappeared. For all he knew,
they *had*.

And through it all, he never saw another soul. It was downright
creepy. Kind of like the way that the Agency headquarters in Toronto
always seemed deserted. They never saw any of the support staff
unless it was needed for a case, and usually that was just Nathan,
the nervous little twit in the archives with a thing for Vic.

Finally, he gave up and headed back to the library to find a book to
distract him for the rest of the morning. Then he'd probably use one
of those empty rooms for an afternoon nap; he wasn't sure that he
could sleep next to Vic without a major case of the guilts.

He was a little surprised to find LiAnn already there, reading, or
at least pretending to. She looked very pale, with dark circles
under her eyes. "Hey, how you feeling?" Mac asked softly when she
finally noticed him.

She shrugged. "Better. Confused. Scared. Angry. You name it."

"Angry?" Mac asked. He was the one confused at that moment.

"Yes, *angry*." She dropped the book on the table next to the
loveseat. "Damnit, Mac, why didn't you tell me? You knew about...
about what was going on and you didn't *tell* me. I thought we were
partners. I thought we were more." By the end, she had gone from a
shout to a whisper.

Mac sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She was
shaking. The last time he could remember her shaking like this was
the day when she'd come to tell him that she was ready to run from
the Tangs with him, more than four years earlier.

"You are," he said, rocking her gently. "You're my sister, my
partner and a part of me. But the Director told me not to, and you
know what she's like. I couldn't tell you, I couldn't tell Vic. All
I could do was sit and wait and worry."

LiAnn pressed her face into his shoulder. "He was waiting for me in
the back hall, near the washrooms," she said softly. "He was
pretending to talk on the payphone. He grabbed me as I went past. He
was strong, I couldn't break free. He dragged me outside.

"He told me over and over again what he was going to do to me after
he killed you." Her voice was cracking and he held her tighter as
the words tumbled out. "He was going to torture me and rape me and
then bring me back so that he could do it all over again, he said. I
didn't understand! So he bit me and he started... sucking..." She
was gasping around deep sobs by that point. "I tried to get away,
but he slammed me against the wall so hard that I couldn't breathe.
I thought I was going to die."

"It's all right, LiAnn," he murmured, stroking her hair. "You're all
right. He's dead. He can't hurt you or anyone else."

"He killed Vic!"

"Vic's going to be okay," Mac pointed out.

"But now he's one of *them*. He isn't Vic anymore."

Mac shook his head sadly. This was one reaction that no one had
expected. "He's still the same person," he assured her. "He's still
our partner, still the man you fell in love with once. That hasn't
changed."

But LiAnn didn't seem to be listening, she was so caught up in her
fears. "I don't think I can face him. I'd always be wondering when
he was going to turn on me. I just can't deal with that."

Her words sent a chill through Mac. "What are you saying, you want
to break up the partnership? You can't mean it. We're a *team*."

"I... I don't know. I need some time." She pulled away from him,
scrubbing at her face. She looked like she wanted to say something
more, but finally just got to her feet and left the room. Mac could
already see the recently cracking walls dropping back into place.

He watched her go, a feeling of dread sending chills through him. It
seemed like his world was coming apart -- his *family* was coming
apart.

But he'd be damned if he was going to let that happen without a
fight.

>>>~~~<<<

Feeling more than a little shell-shocked, Mac made a half-hearted
attempt to eat lunch, then headed upstairs. He went into the room
next to the one where Vic was, undressed and lay down to sleep.

An hour later, he gave up. Sleep just wasn't happening. Every time
he closed his eyes he had visions of a future where he was alone.
LiAnn had left because she couldn't handle Vic's change and Vic had
left because he couldn't handle what had happened either. The team
had fallen apart and it was all his fault.

But he needed sleep. If he was supposed to be on display, so to
speak, at a party, he better not be yawning. But the room was too
silent and the bed was too large.

And too empty.

Mac sat up and sighed. That was the real problem; he didn't want to
be alone. He pulled on his clothes, not bothering to do anything up,
and headed for the room next door. There he found Vic lying in the
same position he'd left the man in that morning. Mac pulled off his
clothes again, dropping them next to the suitcases that someone had
delivered and left next to the armoire in the corner, then crawled
into bed.

Almost immediately, he started to relax. Vic wasn't going to leave.
For one thing, the Director wouldn't let him. She got him out of
jail and she still had a tight hold on him as a result. The same way
she had a hold on him, he admitted to himself.

And once LiAnn calmed down, she wouldn't leave either. She was just
upset because of what Marcus did. Once she realized that Vic was the
same person he always was, she'd be okay.

The team was safe. His family was safe. He wasn't going to lose them.

He curled up against Vic's slightly cool form and drifted off to
sleep, his cheek pressed against the man's chest. It was a nice
place to be.

>>>~~~<<<

Sometime later, Mac woke to the strange sensation of his pillow
trying escape. Grumbling sleepily, he wrapped his arms around it a
little tighter to hold it in place.

"Mac, I'd like to move."

Mac grunted, trying to get back to sleep. Sleep was good.

"Mac, you need to let go." His talking pillow shifted again.

"Don wanna," he muttered, trying to hand onto that peaceful place
where he'd been. Vic was making that very difficult, squirming like
he was.

"Mac!" A sigh. "It's time to get up. If we don't shower and change
in time for the party, the Director will come looking for us."

That hit Mac like a bucket of ice-cold water being dumped over his
head. "Spoilsport," he grumbled, sitting up in bed. He glanced over
at his partner and sighed when the man still wouldn't meet his eyes.
He was not going to let *that* go on any longer. "About last
night..." he started to say, but Vic cut him off.

"Don't worry, it won't happen again."

"Not even if I want it to?" Mac snapped back, a little tired of the
self--sacrificing tone that Vic was so good at.

That got Vic's attention and when he turned his head to look at Mac.
Mac took advantage of the open-mouthed expression to home in for a
deep kiss.

He had several reasons for kissing Vic. Partly it was to reassure
the man, in case Cash was right and he felt like he'd taken
advantage of Mac. Partly it was to reassure himself that even if it
*was* the Director who'd... arranged what had happened, that Vic
might honestly want him, if only physically. The immediate response
he got confirmed that hope.

But mostly, he kissed Vic because the man all sleep-rumpled was
beautiful and he really *really* wanted to kiss him.

But despite the response, Vic pushed him away. "We shouldn't be
doing this."

"Why not?" Mac asked, determined to settle matters before it became
a wedge driving them apart.

"Because... because it will change things."

"Change can be good," he pointed out. "Change is part of life."

Vic shook his head sadly. "Not this kind of change. I've been burnt
too many times. Stan. LiAnn. I don't want to screw this up too."

Mac reached out to touch Vic's shoulder. "We've all been burnt, Mac.
My flames were Michael, LiAnn and Claire. Doesn't mean you hide from
life."

"So what are you saying, Mac? You want to settle down with me in
domestic bliss? Buy a house with a white picket fence? One next to a
blood bank, of course." Vic's dripped with sarcasm, but there was a
plaintive note to it.

Mac flinched, but hid it well. That was moving a little too fast for
him, although he'd do it if that was what it took. "Does it have to
be that complicated? Can't we just take things one day at a time,
one step at a time?"

Vic sighed. "I don't know. Everything is changed. I need time to
deal with that. I need... time."

Mac pulled back reluctantly. Even though he wasn't really ready to
settle down, commit himself *that* much, he still found himself a
little disappointed that Vic had turned the idea down. "Sure, we can
do that. But it you ever need... um... a meal -- or more -- call me
first. Please?"

Vic smiled -- a faint one, but a smile nonetheless. "I will," he
promised. He leaned forward to kiss Mac, then inhaled sharply. Mac
could see the Hunger starting to form in the man's eyes and tilted
his head back in silent invitation.

"Hold it right there."

Both of them twisted to look towards the door and the unexpected
interruption. The Director was standing there; Mac wondered for how
long. "He can't keep up tonight if he's low on blood. Here." She
tossed over a baggie of blood, like the one she'd had for breakfast.
"This should do you. Now, be good boys and get ready. We leave in an
hour."

She left as quickly as she had appeared, swaying on her high heels.

Mac exchanged rueful glances with Vic. "Flip you for the first
shower."

----------------------------------------
Chapter Twelve
----------------------------------------

Vic stared at his reflection in the mirror, tugging at his clothes
in a desperate attempt to get comfortable. Actually, the clothes
were probably the best fitting he'd ever worn. They felt like they'd
been specifically tailored for him -- which they probably had. Even
the boots didn't need breaking in.

No, it wasn't the clothes that made him uncomfortable, it was the
persona they projected. The man in the mirror, dressed in glossy
black leather and pristine white silk, looked dangerous; the sort of
man you didn't want to meet in a dark alley on the wrong side of
town. He looked like a... hunter.

Only thing was, this hunter was on a leash.

Vic ran a finger under the gold-decorated black leather collar. It
was silk-lined, so he couldn't even complain that *it* was
uncomfortable. Except mentally, that is. The motion that made the
gold chain that connected to the collar to the matching belt chime
lightly. Vic winced. He was wearing a collar and a leash. It was
humiliating.

"Looking hot," Mac said, coming out of the bathroom. In a way, it
was just as well the younger man had lost the coin toss. If Vic had
had to wait for him to finish, he'd be heading off with damp hair
and feeling like he'd forgotten to wash behind his ears or something.

"I feel like a fucking dog," he snapped back, trying to avoid
looking at Mac.

He'd been quite serious about needing time to think. He was going to
have enough trouble adjusting to what he'd become without trying to
deal with a relationship at the same time; especially with someone
as volatile as Mac. He had to admit, though, Mac had had a point.
He'd been all hung up on relationships being an either-or situation;
either marriage or completely casual. Taking it one step at a time
was actually a good idea.

And the current step was *not* going to involve sex, even if the
younger man's appearance was making his mouth water.

Seeing Mac's outfit hanging on a clothes hanger was definitely *not*
the same as seeing it on the man. The leather pants left nothing to
the imagination, hugging the lines of his legs tightly and showing
off the fact that a) he wasn't wearing underwear and b) he was
very... well developed -- something that Vic already knew from
personal inspection. Over that, Mac wore a white silk poet's shirt
with flowing sleeves ending in tight cuff and lace trim. The front
was open to the waist, showing a great deal of dark chest hair.
Topping it all was a black leather vest.

Together, they were obviously intended to be a matched pair, their
outfits different in style but the same in color and material. Even
the accessories continued that theme.

The heavy gold chain wrapped around Mac's neck, resting right above
his collar bone. In his hand he held the other 'present' from the
Director. He tossed in from hand to hand, looking at the device with
an expression of distaste.

Then he sighed and reached under his shirt, fumbling for a minute or
so. When he lowered his hands, a delicate gold chain stretched
across his chest. He rolled his shoulders in an unconsciously
sensual motion, like he was trying to get comfortable.

He looked delicious and suddenly Vic's pants weren't as comfortable
as they *had* been. Once again, he wondered if his no-sex rule was
such good idea. Then he threw a mental bucket of cold water over his
libido. The Hunger was humming, but since he'd fed less than an hour
earlier, he refused to give in.

Mac took a deep breath and straightened up. "Ready to go?"

"Ready as I'm ever going to be," Vic replied, pleased at how steady
his voice was. He waved towards the door, letting Mac go first.

It was ridiculous, but he was a little scared about leaving the
room. The man he'd been coming in was quite literally dead. He felt
like leaving it would be admitting that. In a way, you could call
the room his womb, and now that it was time to leave it, he didn't
want to be born.

But he didn't really have a choice, so he steeled himself and
stepped forward, pausing only long enough to shut the door behind
them.

Strangely enough, he didn't really *feel* any different. In fact,
all he felt, heading down the stairs and trying not to stare at
Mac's ass, was self-conscious. He wasn't looking forward to this
party. People who knew what had happened two nights earlier were
going to be watching him closely for any signs of slipping in this
Masquerade thing, and the ones that didn't... well, he didn't know
*what* they'd think when they saw him and didn't particularly *want*
to.

The Director was waiting for them in the foyer, along with LiAnn,
Cash and the man that Vic assumed was their host, Julian Luna.

Vic felt his jaw drop at the sight of LiAnn. He'd been expecting the
third member of their team to be dressed in black leather and white
silk, the same as him and Mac, but her outfit was anything but. She
wore a silk dress in China red, high necked and sleeveless, a black
embroidered dragon curving around her slender frame. The long skirt
was slit all the way up to the hip. Her shoes were black with red
embroidery with low heels, looking more like ballet slippers. The
only jewelry she wore was the gold necklace with the scepter charm
that they'd been given before the start of the trip and a pair of
diamond earrings.

Next to her, the Director wore a black evening gown, tight in all
the right places. Over it she wore a black bolero jacket made from
leather that had a decorative cable design of red, gold and white,
tying them all together; an unpleasant metaphor, as far as Vic was
concerned.

As for the others, Luna was in a classic Armani-style tuxedo and
next to him, Cash looked dangerous in black leather.

Vic and Mac stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited for the
verdict.

The Director walked in a slow circle around them and Vic felt his
face flame. Next to him, Mac fidgeted nervously. She stopped in
front of Mac and adjusted the hang of his shirt so that the nipple
clamps that supported the gold chain were more obvious, smacking his
hands when he tried to pull it shut again. Then she adjusted the lie
of Vic's collar and stepped back.

"Very nice, don't you think?"

Luna was smiling, and his expression reminded Vic of the Director at
her most predatory. "They'll certainly be very popular."

Suddenly, Vic had the urge to head back up the stairs -- run, don't
walk -- and lock himself back in his womb. If the party was anything
like this inspection, he did *not* want to be there.

But it was too late to run. Already they were being steered out the
door and into two limousines.

"Relax," the Director said with a smile from the seat opposite him.
"You're going to do fine."

"Doing *what*?" he demanded.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Luna's comment about being very popular. What did he mean?"

The puzzled frown disappeared and the Director laughed. "As dance
partners," she said. "What were you thinking, that you were going to
be handed out as party favors?"

Said out loud, it sounded ridiculous, but Vic wasn't so sure that it
was completely improbably. After all, look at the Caligula. If the
woman was founder of a kinky sex club, complete with dungeons, then
who knew *what* she and her kind were capable of?

Then Vic remembered that they were also *his* kind now. Somehow, it
didn't reassure him.

At least LiAnn now looked all right. If there was any bruising left,
it was disguised with subtle makeup and the hang of her carefully-
done hairdo. She was beautiful.

However, she refused to look at him. Every so often her eyes started
to drift his way, only to dart away, never meeting his. It bothered
him and judging by the Director's frown as she watched the
interplay, he wasn't the only one.

A hand dropped on his knee and squeezed reassuringly before moving
away again. Vic gave Mac a small smile in response.

Everything was starting to seem surreal. Nothing was what it had
been before, least of all him. LiAnn was obviously avoiding him, the
Director was not what he'd thought and Mac had become something less
than a lover but more than a partner. Vic found himself wondering
when he'd fallen through the rabbit hole and how he was going to get
out. Unfortunately, no handy white rabbit ran past muttering about
being late, so it wasn't a dream, or a nightmare for that matter.

They pulled up outside the Haven, right behind Luna's car. They
could already hear the music as they got out of the car.

"Welcome!" Lillie said brightly as they moved into the main room,
obviously there to greet all arrivals. She was dressed like
something out of a forties glamour magazine in cream and sequins,
her auburn hair drawn up into a complicated style quite different
from LiAnn's simplicity. Vic found himself blushing again as she
stepped close to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Welcome to the
family," she said softly. "Although *I* think you would have been
better as a Toreador."

The Director glared at her and Lillie backed off with a smile. She
didn't seem very intimidated, but she gave the Director a respectful
nod before heading off to welcome the next group of arrivals.

"They always think that *everyone* should want to be one of them,"
the Director muttered, leading them in. "Don't take it to heart.
You'd be a lousy Toreador."

The atmosphere in the room was a far cry from what it had been all
week. Most of the tables and chairs had been removed, forcing people
to mingle. And mingle they did, although like before, he could see a
definitely pattern forming. This time, though, he had a pretty good
idea of just what that pattern was: Clan groupings.

Something else was different, in a slightly more disturbing way.
During the week, people had occasionally glanced at him, then seemed
to dismiss him as if he were of no interest. Tonight was a different
matter. Tonight, eyes narrowed and stayed focused on him longer.

Some of them nodded -- a very small number -- and he felt a strange
sort of kinship with them. He glanced at the Director.

"Other Gangrel for the most part, I would assume," she said softly.
"There won't be many here. Most of the Gangrel decided to
disassociate themselves from the Camarilla in the last few years, so
they don't have a say in the councils. However, some members of the
clan are still part of the Camarilla. The ones here are probably
mostly bodyguards, like Cash."

"Camarilla?"

She waved off the question. "Later. It's not a short explanation.
Add it to your list." She took his arm and led him into the crowd.

What followed was a blur of faces, both friendly and hostile. The
hostile ones seemed able to raise his hackles without even a word.
The friendly ones were a little more comfortable, although to widely
differing degrees.

The were introduced to both Princes and their entourages from what
seemed like every major city in North America. Vic jokingly asked
about a couple of the cities that *weren't* represented and the
Director responded with a cold look and the comment that *that*
would have to wait until later too. Vic's list of questions was
growing quickly.

And it was obvious that while she was introducing *all* of them
around, Vic was the focus. Everyone seemed to be taking his measure.
Vic didn't like it: he'd always preferred to fade into the
background, the observer not the observed. Unfortunately, he didn't
exactly have a choice in the matter.

Still, it sure as hell beat the alternative.

Finally, she led them over to the bar and Vic breathed a quiet sigh
of relief. He couldn't remember the names of most of the people he'd
met and his feet were aching. He was desperate for a drink --
alcohol, not blood, although he was starting to feel *that* need too.

Mac ordered a Tsingtao -- his favorite beer -- and LiAnn a white
wine. Vic was about to ask for a beer as well when the Director cut
him off, asking for two wines, no other qualifiers.

Vic frowned at the glass he was handed. He didn't much like wine,
red wine especially. The Director just stared at him until he sighed
and took a reluctant sip.

The flavor exploded in his mouth and he suddenly realized just *why*
the mysterious thick red wine was so popular.

"What is it?" Mac asked curiously as Vic fought the urge to chug the
contents of his glass.

"Blood wine."

Mac paled slightly when Vic nodded in confirmation; the liquid was
at least half blood, mixed with a red wine. LiAnn flinched,
something she'd been doing a lot as the evening went on.

"Ah, there's someone I'd like you to meet," the Director said and
was tugging at his arm to steer him the direction she wanted.

Vic sighed. It was going to be a long night. Again.

>>>~~~<<<

It was well after midnight by the time he managed to separate his
boss's hand from his elbow and find a quiet spot, away from the
crowd. The Director had insisted that he dance with her several
times, as had Lillie, and he'd been... encouraged to dance with
several other party-goers who'd approached him. He was beginning to
think that he *was* going to end up a party favor.

But he'd finally found an out-of-the-way spot and a wall to lean
against. He'd kill for a chair, but there weren't any free ones to
be found. The band was playing a steamy tango and from his vantage
point, he could see that Mac had finally managed to coax LiAnn out
onto the dance floor. He'd never seen them dance together before.
Mac had described to him what it was like, back when they'd been
rivals, but it wasn't the same as seeing them.

They moved like one person in two bodies; seamless and perfect. They
were a beautiful matched pair and he wasn't the only one watching
them. Vic felt a sudden pang of jealousy, although he wasn't sure
which one he was jealous *of*.

He'd never danced with LiAnn. Correction, he had. Once. However,
she'd made no attempt to hide her amusement at his lack of polish,
so he'd never tried again.

Come to think of it, she'd always been good at putting him down for
his lack of 'sophistication.' She'd managed to imply without ever
saying it outright that he was less intelligent than her. Sure, Mac
had done the exact same thing at first, but he'd never tried to
pretend that it was anything more than the typical male head-butting
rituals. They put each other down, they fought over LiAnn. With
LiAnn, the put-downs were all one-sided and a little more subtle.

Looking back, Vic was surprised that he and LiAnn had lasted as long
as they had. Even if Mac *hadn't* returned from the dead, they would
have gone their separate ways eventually. Sooner or later, he would
have been unable to ignore her attitude any longer. So maybe Mac had
done them all a favor by giving her an excuse to back out before it
was too late for them to stay friends.

"Well, well, well. The new dog boy."

Caught off-guard by the unexpected voice, Vic jumped. The man who'd
slipped up next to him was one he hadn't met, although he vaguely
remembered seeing him a couple times during the week. But there was
something about the man that annoyed him. "I beg your pardon?"

"You should. You cost me four of my best men."

The comment told him just who he was talking to. "Cameron, I
presume," he said frostily. He stood up straight, instantly on edge.
Unfortunately, there was no one nearby that he knew, let alone
trusted.

"And you are Cash's little mistake," was the sneering reply. "You
should be just as dead as *my* people, along with your law-breaking
sire. The only reason you aren't is because Luna likes the pretty
ones. Tell me, has he fucked you yet?"

Vic bristled at the man's tone. "I suggest you find someone else to
blame," he told the handsome man. "Your people got *themselves* into
trouble by attacking someone under your boss's truce. It was their
own stupidity that got them dead, not me."

He started to walk away, but a hand like iron grabbed him, stopping
him dead in his tracks. He pulled, but the man didn't budge. He
stopped struggling and turned to stare at the man. "I suggest you
let go."

Cameron stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose. "Watch
your back, puppy. Your Prince isn't all-powerful and I have a lot of
contacts."

"Are you threatening me?" Vic asked in disbelief. The man was a
thug, pure and simple. Hard to believe that he held any sort of
power, let alone was able to hang onto it. Then again, from what
he'd been told, Cameron was definitely on his way out.

"Just stating facts, little boy. Toronto isn't out of my reach.
Remember that."

He let go suddenly, obviously expecting Vic to go flying. Vic just
shook his head and walked away.

"Are you okay?" Mac asked, coming towards him at a near run, Cash
right behind him. Vic wondered if they'd been off somewhere together
and felt that pang of jealousy again.

"Just fine. Cameron wanted to make a few useless threats. Nothing I
can't handle."

"Don't be so sure of that," Cash said darkly.

Vic snorted. "Yeah, right. The day I can't handle a thug like him--"

"Is the day you die. Permanently. I'm serious," Cash added when Vic
shook his head. "Do you know what the leading cause of death is
among the newly-Embraced?"

Cash stared at him expectantly until Vic finally sighed and
obediently said, "All right, I'll bite. What is the leading cause of
death among the newly-Embraced." He felt like the straight man in a
joke.

"Pissing off older Kindred," was the blunt reply.

"And your point would be?"

Cash grabbed his arm and dragged him into a corner where no one was
watching them, Mac following on his heels. Once they were away from
prying eyes, Cash slammed him up against the wall. Vic struggle for
a moment, but he couldn't shift the man anymore than he'd been able
to break Cameron's grip.

"Listen to me and listen good," he said softly. "Older Kindred are
going to be stronger than you, with abilities that you won't develop
for several decades, assuming you life that long. And the older ones
like nothing better than slapping down uppity fledglings, especially
from other clans. Don't count on your boss to protect you."

The serious expression on the man's face sent shivers up and down
Vic's spine. Normally he'd laugh the warning off, coming from
someone who didn't know him well, but there was something in the
man's eyes that convinced him that he wasn't playing games. He
nodded.

Cash relaxed and took a step back. "Learn to watch what you say.
You'll recognize other Kindred when you meet them. Be careful around
them until you learn how they'll react. And practice. A lot. Once
you've learned more, then you can push back."

He lifted a hand and brushed the back of his knuckles along Vic's
cheekbone and smiled. "Don't worry too much, though. I think you'll
go far. And if you need advice, someone to talk to, just give me a
call." He sighed. "I wish I could do more. I always said that I'd
never abandon one of my childer. The typical Gangrel sire abandons
his or her childer to find their own way for a decade or two before
reclaiming them. I didn't want to do that. Unfortunately, your
Prince won't let me be there for you."

Vic closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm scared," he
whispered. There was something about the man that seemed to drag
the admission out of him. Cash's hand moved down to rest on his
shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. "I don't know what's going to
happen when we get home."

"She's going to find you a teacher, she says. Someone who will teach
you what you need to survive. After that? Really, not a lot will
have changed. You're still you. The only thing that's changed is
that you'll need to stay inside during the day."

"And drink blood."

Cash shrugged. "Whatever. It's not that hard to get used to it."

Vic didn't respond; he'd already learned the truth of that.

Suddenly, Cash lifted his head. He looked like he was listening to
something that neither Vic nor Mac could hear. "I've got to go," he
said reluctantly. "Julian needs me."

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Cash leaned forward and kissed him.

The man's lips were cool against his, completely unlike the fever-
hot touch of Mac's. Vic's reaction was immediate and unexpected,
opening up to Cash like he was the most desirable man in the
universe. Vic was reeling with confusion when the man finally pulled
away and left.

Vic watched him walk away, feeling more than a little dazed. He
turned to find Mac watching him with a stormy expression. In fact,
he'd almost swear that the young man was as jealous as *he'd* been
feeling earlier.

"An... interesting man," he said, suddenly feeling the urge to tease
his partner. "I just wish I was going to have the chance to get to
know him better."

"I'll bet," Mac muttered under his breath. Vic hid his grin. Mac
*was* jealous.

Vic slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We're heading home
tomorrow." Thank God. "Then everything goes back to normal, or what
passes for normal for us."

"I wish I could believe that," Mac sighed. "But I'm not so sure.
LiAnn's kinda traumatized by what Marcus did to her. She's... well...
scared of you. Scared of any Kindred. I'm sure she'll get over it
pretty fast, but right now..." His voice trailed off.

Vic sighed. This explained LiAnn's behavior all evening. "So what
happens to the team?" he asked, more resigned than anything else. He
should have known better than to think it was going to go back to
the way it had been. His mood-swings were starting to give him
motion-sickness.

"I don't know. Best guess? The Director splits us up until she gets
over it. Maybe she'll put LiAnn to work with Jackie for a while."

Vic snorted. "Oh, she'll love that," he said wryly. LiAnn had hated
the blond ex-mob princess with a passion from the moment they'd met.
Of course, the interest that the bubbly girl had shown in Mac hadn't
helped matters. LiAnn was used to being the center of the team and
Jackie threatened that position. Being forced to work with Jackie
was one of the Director's favorite punishments for LiAnn on those
rare occasions when she screwed up on a case. "It'll certainly
encourage her to adapt fast."

Then something occurred to him. "Speaking of LiAnn, where is she?"

Mac blinked. "Um..."

"Shit! She's panicking over Kindred and you left her alone in a room
full of them? Bright move, Mac."

He wasn't sure why he was quite so upset; maybe just some leftover
anxiety after the conversation with Cash. But if LiAnn was as upset
as Mac had said, leaving her alone was a bad move.

Moving away from their private corner, Vic scanned the room. He
didn't see LiAnn at first glance. Then he noticed a small knot on
the other side of the room. Operating on instinct, he started to
push his way through the crowd, heading for the group, Mac following
him.

They got some glares from people that they had to push past, but no
one delayed them. As they got closer, Vic could hear LiAnn's voice,
raised and with a slightly hysterical tinge to it. The last time
he'd heard that had been several months before Mac had joined the
team, when she'd had to defuse a bomb strapped to him without any
outside help. She'd done the job, but she'd had the shakes for a
couple days afterwards. She'd said it was because her *last* lover
had died in an explosion, or so she'd thought.

Finally reaching the slowly growing crowd, Vic grabbed one shoulder
and pulled its owner away, pushing himself through to LiAnn's side.

LiAnn was squeezed against the wall by a large man who raised Vic's
hackles. Based on his experiences that night, he would guess that
the man was Brujah. Vic squeezed between the man and LiAnn.

"I think the lady would like some room to breath," he said, bracing
himself in case of attack.

"Get lost, Gangrel," the man snarled. "Me and the little lady, we're
having a private conversation."

Vic glanced around at the small crowd, one eyebrow raised in
disbelief. The man bristled in annoyance. "Scram, little boy," the
man snarled.

He shrugged. "Sure. Care to join me, partner?" he said, holding out
his arm to LiAnn. She hesitated, then slipped her hand into the
crook of his elbow.

"I'm not finished with her," the Brujah snarled.

"Maybe, but I think she's finished with you. Go find someone else to
bother."

"You need to learn some manners, little boy. How about we step
outside and I teach you some?"

"How about you don't," a cold voice said behind him. The Brujah
turned and Vic saw the Director walking towards them. The crowd
parted in front of her and he could see fear on more than a few
faces.

"This doesn't concern you," the man said, blustering. She raised one
eyebrow.

"My people, my concern," she said gently. "Now, are you going to
look elsewhere for your entertainment or do I need to have a talk
with Jefferson?"

Vic didn't know who Jefferson was, but the Brujah paled slightly. He
glared at Vic and LiAnn, then stormed away.

"Jefferson?" he asked the Director softly.

"Prince of Phoenix," she said equally softly. Then her lips quirked
into a smile. "I'm surprised you don't remember. I introduced you to
him earlier."

Vic snorted. "Along with half the room. Is this going to go on much
longer? It's been a long night." Even he could hear the plaintive
tone in his voice.

Her expression softened. "Yes, I suppose it has. Well, the party
will keep going until dawn, but I suppose we can leave now. Our bags
have already been picked up and loaded in the car."

"We aren't going back to Luna's?" Mac asked in surprise.

"We have a private jet for the trip home and we'll be leaving right
at sunset. I've arranged for rooms at the hotel nearest the airport."

As she spoke, they drifted towards the front door. Luna met them
there, Cash at his shoulder.

"Well, it's certainly been an interesting convocation," Luna said
with a smile, taking the Director's hands in his. "I hope you
weren't too... inconvenienced by the results."

She smiled back and kissed him on the cheek. "Well, it certainly
wasn't what I planned on, but no. I'm quite pleased in fact."

Behind Luna, Vic could see Cash and Mac whispering to each other.
Then Cash kissed his partner and Vic felt that flash of jealousy
again. He moved over to where they were standing and Cash smiled at
him.

"Remember what I said," Cash said, slipping him a small business
card. Glancing down, Vic saw a phone-number on it and slid it into
his jacket pocket.

"I will," he replied.

Cash leaned over and kissed him softly. "Be well, my Childe," he
said seriously. "I expect to hear great things about you in the
future."

Vic swallowed around the large lump forming in his throat. "Thank
you," he said, almost choking. It was stupid, he didn't really know
the man, but he was going to miss him.

"Time to go, boys and girls," the Director called. Vic squeezed
Cash's hand and moved to follow her, Mac at his side and LiAnn right
in front of him, just like always. It was raining heavily again,
just like the night they'd arrived. It was an appropriate touch to
end their visit to San Francisco.

Vic sighed. He couldn't wait to get home.

----------------------------------------
Epilogue
----------------------------------------

The end of their trip to San Francisco was almost anti-climactic.
They checked into two hotel rooms not far from the Oakland airport
for the day; Mac and Vic in one room, the girls in the other. By the
time they reached their room, all Mac wanted was bed. Of course,
having Vic to snuggle up against was nice, even if it was just
snuggle. He was going to miss that when they got home.

This trip had been a weird one all around. Of course, life had been
weird since the day the Director had walked into his cell in Hong
Kong and had coldly proceeded to blackmail him into working for her.
Still, what other job could he have where he got to deal with
psychotic beekeepers and mad geniuses in their rooftop lairs? Not to
mention the organ smugglers and terrorist clowns. The mind just
boggled.

And if he had to admit it, he liked his life now. Sure, working for
the Tangs was just as exciting at times -- and the rewards were a
hell of a lot better -- but with the Agency, there was a cause.
Well, he *thought* there was a cause, even if he wasn't exactly sure
what it was. And they didn't ask him to smuggle guns.

But now that world had changed. Vampires were real and his boss was
one of them, and now one of his partners was too. And his other
partner had received a new trauma on top of an old one that had
barely started to heal. As for him, he'd made a new friend and had
his relationship with one of his partners change beyond recognition
-- for the better he thought.

And once they got back to Toronto, he was going to have to go back
to sleeping alone. At least Vic wasn't completely rejecting the idea
of a relationship, but he *was* determined to take things slow. And
who knew, maybe the man was right. Mac had a tendency to fall into
bed quickly. Maybe that was why he had such a long string of failed
relationships behind him.

On the other hand, after working together for more than two years,
it wasn't like they were complete strangers.

But if that was the way Vic wanted it, that was the way it was going
to be. He'd prove to the man that this wasn't just an overwhelming
lust for the man's admittedly gorgeous bod. He was going to prove
that he had *some* restraint.

Besides, he was looking forward to the chance to seduce his partner
all over again.

Cash had recommended holding off until Vic got the training that the
Director said she was going to arrange, though. It was a little
strange, getting advice from a man who'd been basically a one night
stand on how to build a more lasting relationship with another man,
but if it would work, Mac would take advice from anyone, even
Dobrinsky. And besides, as Vic's Sire, Cash probably had a pretty
good idea on what would work.

He was going to miss Cash. He might only have known the man for a
few days, but he still felt a strange sort of kinship with him. They
had a lot in common. Besides, the man really knew how to party, Mac
thought with a grin. Like Vic, he had one of Cash's cards tucked
inside his wallet, with instructions to call anytime, for advice or
just to talk. He had the feeling he was going to need it.

After the sun came up and Vic fell asleep, Mac left the room to find
some breakfast. Vic might be able to live on a little bit of blood,
but he needed something a little more substantial. Hopefully the
hotel restaurant served Eggs Benedict. He had a craving.

>>>~~~<<<

The phone rang, waking him from a sound sleep. Mac rolled over and
grabbed it, cursing under his breath in Cantonese. "Yes?" he barked
into the receiver.

"This is your six PM wake-up call," an overly cheerful recorded
voice said. "Have a pleasant evening." A dial tone grated painfully
on his eardrums.

"You too," he snapped at the phone before hanging up. He hadn't
ordered a wake-up call, but he could guess who had.

Still, since their flight was leaving at nine-thirty, that just gave
him time to shower, shave, change and eat while Vic did the same.
Since it wasn't quite yet sunset, he headed for the bathroom after
calling up room service and ordering a ridiculously priced meal.

By the time he emerged, towel-drying his hair, Vic was up and
looking at least partly awake. "All yours," Mac said.

Vic disappeared into the bathroom as a knock at the door heralded
the arrival of Mac's dinner. Mac signed the receipt and found the
cash for a tip, then dove in. The club-sandwich wasn't the greatest
and the french fries were cold, but it was food and that was all he
cared about.

He was polishing off the last of it as Vic reappeared, looking fully
awake. Mac held out his hand. "Dinner?"

Amazing how casual it had become between them. Vic didn't even try
to protest, although he kept it short and with no frills. Mac still
ended up aroused by the feeling of the blood being slowly sucked
from his veins, but refused to give in to his libido by jumping
Vic's bones.

But damn it was difficult.

They actually managed to be dressed and packed by the time the
Director knocked on their door for the trip to the airport.

"Good evening, ladies," Mac said cheerfully as they headed for the
elevator. "Sleep well?"

LiAnn nodded curtly, although the circles under her eyes made a liar
of her. He Director smiled. "Just fine, and you? I don't need to ask
how *you* slept, Victor."

"I certainly hope I get over this sleeping all day before summer,"
Vic groused. "Fifteen hour naps would be a little ridiculous."

"Oh, don't worry," she replied, patting his arms. "I'm sure that by
then you won't be quite so much a slave to instinct. Still, you'll
be very groggy. I'll make sure I don't assign you to anything that
requires *too* much thought during the day. I know, I'll give you
Mac's assignments."

Mac stuck out his tongue at her. She just looked amused.

"Now," she said, changing gears, "I suggest you prepare yourself.
The flight is just under eleven hours and you're going to want to
feed during that time. Luckily, since it's an overnight flight, I'm
sure that the two of you can deal with that without attracting
attention. Make sure that you do," she added darkly. The 'or else'
was pretty clear in her voice.

In a way, it almost sounded kinky, having Vic feed from him in a
public place without anyone knowing about it.

That was another thing he was going to miss, the feeding. However,
while he wasn't exactly a doctor, he knew that he could keep being
Vic's sole food-source. He could already feel the affects of the
continuous blood loss, even with Vic's diet being supplemented by
bagged blood and blood wine.

Then Mac glanced at LiAnn and sobered up. The expression on her face
was one of fear. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Don't
worry, we'll let you know ahead of time so that you can go to the
bathroom or something." Vic winced, but the relief on LiAnn's face
was obvious.

They arrived at the airport and went through the check-in process
with remarkable speed. Mac had expected to be running to make their
boarding call, but they actually had time to sit down and relax for
a while before the first call for their flight was announced.

"Enjoy yourselves, children," the Director said when first-class
boarding was called. Just like the flight to San Francisco, she was
flying first-class while the rest of them were flying coach. Of
course.

Finally, their boarding was called. This time, *unlike* the flight
down, LiAnn held back when they reached their seat. Mac exchanged
glances with Vic and nodded towards the window seat. Vic slid in and
Mac took the seat next to him. For the first time in their
partnership, LiAnn *wasn't* insisting on sitting between them. That
was nice, but the reason for it wasn't.

"What time are we supposed to land in Toronto?" Vic asked in a low
undertone.

Mac checked the tickets. "Just before five-thirty, Toronto time," he
replied. "Why?"

Vic shifted, obviously trying to find a comfortable position for his
legs. Airline seats weren't designed for anyone over five feet. Mac
had the same problem, but even worse since he was a little taller
that Vic and longer in the legs.

"Just checking. Don't want sunrise to come while we're still in the
middle of a busy airport."

"Don't worry. Sunrise isn't until nearly two hours after that. I'm
sure that the Director will take care of making sure we're safely
away before then."

"I hope so," the older man muttered.

What Mac was hoping that the in-flight movie was better than the one
on the other flight. After sleeping days for most of the week, he
wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep at all, let alone in one of these
torture devices masquerading as seats. And he had even lower
expectations for the in-flight meals than he'd had for the hotel
room service.

Maybe he'd borrow one of those detective novels that Vic had been
reading all week. Or maybe one of LiAnn's books, although her
preference for Chinese romances weren't exactly his style. Anything
to pass the time.

Take-off was right on time, a first for Mac. Once they were in the
air, he started to relax. It had been a long week, an exciting week,
a terrifying week.

But they'd survived the experience and they were going home.

Home.

What a wonderful word.

>>>~~~<<<

Mac surprised himself by actually drifting off half-way through the
movie. The rubber-chicken meal had been horrible, but he'd eaten the
whole thing in anticipation of needing the fuel.

"Mac."

His name, whispered in his ear, woke him up quickly. He could hear
the husky note in Vic's voice that already signaled to him that the
other man was hungry. In fact, the more often Vic fed from him, the
closer he felt to him, in many ways. Sometimes it almost felt like
he could read the man's mind.

Mac glanced around. The lights had been dimmed and everyone around
them was asleep, even LiAnn. He decided not to wake her. If she
wasn't awake to see, she couldn't be disturbed by Vic's feeding.

He reached up and unbuttoned his shirt collar. Expecting this, he'd
worn a black shirt, just in case a little blood got on it. "Pretend
you've fallen asleep," he whispered.

Vic picked up on his suggestion immediately; no matter what some
people said, the man wasn't stupid. He let his head flop to the
side, onto Mac's shoulder. Then Mac leaned forward and to the side a
little. That way, Vic's face fell in the crook of his neck without
looking too forced. He felt Vic's tongue swipe his neck a couple
times in preparation, then his fangs sank in.

Like earlier, Mac refused to let the feelings overwhelm him. First
of all, someone had to keep an eye out for any interruptions from
the attendants or other passengers. Secondly, while he wouldn't
*mind* joining the Mile-High club with Vic, he didn't think that the
man, straight-laced as he still was, would go for it. Pity, though.

Finally, he felt Vic's fangs withdrawing, followed a few more licks
to close the puncture wounds. He could understand why books and
movies made vampires so sexy; the feeling of fangs going in and out
was reminiscent of sex, a different sort of penetration.

By the time an attendant came to check on them, they were back in
position, eyes shut as if they were sleeping.

As he relaxed, Mac reached up to caress the pendant hanging around
his neck. He wasn't sure why, but touching it reassured him. Perhaps
it was because it was a gift from Vic. There was something about it
that made him feel like everything was going to be all right.

He leaned against Vic's shoulder and sighed.

Only three hours left before landing.

>>>~~~<<<

Mac was sitting in a forest glade beside a small pool, relaxing on a
warm flat stone. The light coming through the leaves and reflecting
off the water was unusual. Looking up, he could see that it was
night, but one brighter than he'd ever seen before. The quarter
moon, to his eyes, was brighter than the sun. And the colors! The
colors were like nothing he'd ever seen before.

Deciding to just accept it, Mac stretched out to bask in the moon-
and star-light. He was naked, he noted idly, but it didn't bother
him anymore than the strange light had.

"Do you have any idea what you look like, lying there?"

Mac turned his eyes and smiled as Vic emerged from the pool, equally
naked and sparkling with water droplets. "I'll bite," he said, and
they both laughed at the pun.

Moving gracefully, like a cat, Vic pounced, stretching out over Mac.
"Absolutely fuckable," he growled in a low, sexy voice, then claimed
Mac's mouth in a deep kiss.

Mac groaned and arched up into the damp body above his. This had to
be the best feeling in the world. They were such a good match.

Mac spread his legs and let Vic move into place between them. Thick
fingers penetrated and stretched him until he was writhing in place,
begging for more.

Then Vic moved closer and...

"He's not yours," a soft voice hissed.

Both of the men were startled by the unexpected voice. The figure
that stepped out from between the trees was indistinct, but
definitely female.

"You aren't welcome here," Vic snarled, getting to his feet, his
erection still hard and proud between his legs.

"Gangrel fool," the woman said. "He's going to be mine. Sooner or
later..."

Vic roared with anger and leapt forward, his shape blurring in mid-
air until he was more cat than man. The woman roared just as loud
and met him half-way.

Blood was already flying as the two fought. Mac ran towards them,
frantic with worry for his lover. And yet, for some reason he was
also worried about the stranger. There was something familiar about
her. Something he should know.

Then he saw the talons aimed at his lover's neck and his heart
stopped.

"No!"

>>>~~~<<<

"Mac. Mac!"

Mac's eyes flew open and he drew in a deep, gasping breath. Vic's
hand was on his shoulder, shaking him, and he latched onto it,
reassuring himself that the man was real.

"Vic," he said in relief, then paused. Why was he relieved? He
reached up to brush the sweat from his forehead.

"Are you all right? You were shouting in your sleep."

"I was?" Mac blinked. "I don't remember." He glanced around the
cabin. LiAnn and Vic both looked equally worried. The passengers
nearest them just looked annoyed. An attendant was heading their
way, but he waved her off. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Must have been a doozy of a dream," Vic said in a forced light
tone. "Good as the one where Jackie was the Director?"

Mac frowned, then shook his head. Hard as he tried, he couldn't
remember any details. Just a few quickly fading images. "I was in a
forest glade at night, but that's all I can remember," he said
apologetically

"Don't worry. After what happened this week, I wouldn't be surprised
if we *all* had nightmares." They both carefully didn't look at
LiAnn, who hadn't been sleeping very calmly on the flight either.

Luckily, before they had to say anything else, the intercom came to
life, announcing that they were about to land.

They were home.

>>>~~~<<<

The Director must have pulled more than a few strings. They were
through customs and into a waiting car in almost no time at all.

"Um... My car is in the long-term parking," Mac pointed out as they
headed away from the airport.

"Not anymore, it isn't," the Director replied. "It's at the office.
You can pick it up there."

"Couldn't you just drop me at home?" Vic said, already sounding
tired as dawn approached. "I'll pick my truck up tonight."

"Ah, but you don't know where home *is*."

Vic frowned. "Of course I do," he protested.

"No, you don't. Your things have already been moved," she told him.

"What was wrong with my old place?" he asked suspiciously. They all
knew that there were cameras and microphones in their apartments.
What would Vic's place have *now* in the way of surveillance?

She gave him a disappointed look. "Do I *really* deserve that tone
of voice? There is nothing wrong with your old apartment. However,
the new one has a bedroom *without* windows. After all, we wouldn't
want you to climb into bed one morning and forget to draw the
drapes, would we? You wouldn't do me much good as dust."

Mac winced at the blunt words. Across from him, Vic winced. "No, I
guess not," he said softly. Mac could understand why he was upset.
Vic had lived in that apartment for years, since the days when he'd
been a cop. It was the last piece of his old, pre-Agency life.

"Good. Besides, there's someone I want you to meet. After that, you
can sleep at the office, since I doubt you'll have time to get home
before dawn. Tonight, you can check out your new digs."

"Great," Vic muttered.

It was a little strange walking through the always empty hallways of
the Agency headquarters in Toronto. So much had happened in the week
since they'd last been there that it seemed like the place should be
different. Instead, they were exactly the same; brightly lit,
echoing and creepy.

And coming towards them was Mac least-favorite tormenter, Dobrinsky.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," the man said cheerfully as he
drew up even with them.

"Don't you *ever* sleep?" Mac snapped back. There was something
about the man that had annoyed him from the day they met. Of course,
it didn't help that the man was a sadist. He was also the person
that the Director sent him to for training and punishment, the same
way that she made LiAnn work with Jackie as a punishment.

"No. I don't," was the simple reply. Then the black man turned to
look at Vic and his eyebrows went up. Vic was staring back at him
with an equally surprised expression. "Well, well, well. Look's like
*someone* had an interesting trip."

"You're Kindred?" Vic said, his voice going up in shock.

"Of course he is," the Director said, amusement in her voice. "Do
you think I would have anything else for my assistant. He's Ventrue,
of course."

"Of course," Mac said weakly. He should have guessed.

"Well, I suppose this explains the... person," Dobrinsky's usual
smile faded as he spat the word, "waiting in your office."

"Now, Dobrinsky. She does have her uses," the Director admonished.

"Rarely."

"And was everything moved?"

Dobrinsky tossed a set of keys to Vic. "All done. Even the eight-
track," he added with a condescending smile. Vic didn't reply,
except with a small sneer.

The man just laughed and walked away, shaking his head. Mac stuck
out his tongue in the direction of the back of the man's head. The
man hadn't said a word to him, but it was instinct. Besides,
Dobrinsky had just insulted *his* partner.

Of course, just *owning* an eight-track was an insult in Mac's books.

"If you don't need me," LiAnn said, speaking up for the first time
since they'd left the airport, "I think I'll go home."

The Director stopped and turned to face LiAnn. She took the younger
woman's chin in her hand and looked deep in her eyes. They stood
that way for a moment, silent.

"Fine," the Director said, suddenly letting go and stepping back.
"I'll see you this evening."

LiAnn left quickly, Vic staring after her.

"Oh, don't worry, Victor. She'll get over it quickly, I promise."

Vic exchanged glances with Mac. Neither one of them really believed
that, but they didn't say anything. Then again, after what Cash had
told him about the Ventrue Dominate ability, maybe she was right. Of
course, that would imply that she was going to manipulate LiAnn into
acceptance.

But then again, she was always manipulating them. Why should this be
any different?

"Any other surprises in store?" Vic asked, tossing his new apartment
key from hand to hand.

"Surprises? Me? Whatever do you mean?" The innocent expression on
her face didn't fool either of them in the least.

"Like Dobrinsky for one. How many other Kindred are there around
here? Are we the *only* ones who didn't know?"

"Not at all. In fact, most of the people you've worked with are
perfectly human."

"Most?" Mac jumped in.

"Well, there are a few exceptions," she replied, scratching her head
and staring at a blank wall.

"Like who?"

She hesitated a moment before answering. "Jackie."

Both Mac and Vic blinked. "Jackie?" Mac almost squeaked. "Jackie is a..."

"Malkavian."

"A what?"

"One of the other clans that you haven't met yet. They tend to be
excellent information gatherers. Very insightful, in fact. Oh yes,
and they are all quite insane."

Mac glanced at Vic and shrugged. "That's Jackie, all right," he
muttered under his breath. "Remind me to avoid her more often."

"Great," Vic added. "Next you'll be saying that Nathan is a vampire
too."

The Director gave a lady-like snort. "Not likely. However, he is
very, very useful, so I made him a ghoul."

"A *what*?" Mac said.

"A ghoul. A human who has tasted Kindred blood. It makes them
more... controllable."

"I thought that made them Kindred," Vic said. He sounded as confused
as Mac felt.

"No, that only makes them Kindred if they've been drained first.
Otherwise, they just become a ghoul. Your teacher will explain all
this."

"My teacher?"

"Yes. Actually, I called ahead. She should be waiting for us."

With that, the Director pushed open the door to their usual briefing
room.

"What the *hell* do you think you're doing, *summoning* me? I'm not
one of your lapdogs!"

The woman waiting there was one Mac had never seen before. She was
short, even shorter than Jackie, who was the shortest member of
their team, and like Jackie, she was compact and muscular. Her hair
was brown and very short, greased into sharp spikes, tipped in a
rainbow of colors. She wore a motley outfit pieced together from
scraps of leather, over a T-shirt that was more hole than cloth.

But there was something strange about the shape of her eyes and her
ears were more than a little pointed, although not as obviously as
the Nosferatu he'd briefly met in the Haven's office. And it was
hard to tell, but it almost looked like her ears were... hairy?

"No," the Director said calmly, coming to a stop directly in front
of the stranger. "However, you and yours live in this city on *my*
sufferance. I can withdraw my permission as quickly as I granted it."

The woman snarled, but even though she didn't move a muscle, it
seemed like she backed down. "What do you want," she snapped.

"Meet Victor," the Director said, waving towards the man. "You are
going to be his teacher."

She glanced at Vic and her eyebrows went up. "You have *got* to be
joking," she said in disbelief. "You want me to train your little
Caitiff? I don't *think* so."

The Director moved, so fast that Mac didn't even see. In a blink of
an eye, she had the other woman by the throat. "You will do what I
say, or else," she hissed.

Then equally suddenly, she let go. The woman fell back, rubbing her
throat.

"Victor's Sire is Gangrel," the Director continued in a perfectly
normal tone. "He needs training in the Gangrel Disciplines."

"Couldn't his Sire do that?"

"No." The Director didn't explain further.

The two women stared at each other, one probing and the other not
budging. Finally, the stranger turned to Vic. "Tonight. One hour
after sunset. Meet me at the Toronto Zoo. Outside the big cat's
area. Don't be late."

She turned and stormed out.

"That was Moira," the Director said in a wry tone as the door
slammed shut. "She'd leader for the Gangrel here in town. She'll get
you up to speed fast."

"Assuming that she doesn't just kill me."

"Oh, she knows better than to cross me," the Director said with a
cold smile. "No, she'll do as she's told, or else."

"Else what?" Mac asked out of morbid curiosity.

The Director just looked at him and he shivered. Suddenly he didn't
*want* to know what 'or else' entailed.

"Anyway," she continued, turning back to Vic. "She'll train you
quickly, if only to get you out of her hair. What she has, that is."
Her expression showed her distaste for the woman's colorful
appearance, which was the pot calling the kettle black in Mac's
books.

"Great. A teacher who hates my guts and wants nothing to do with
me," Vic muttered. "What could be better?"

"She'll protect you, since I'll kill her if she doesn't," the
Director said. "She'll drive you hard because she hates you. You
need both, Victor. I suggest you get a good day's sleep. You'll need
it."

With that, she headed up the stairs to her private office, leaving
them alone in the room.

"Well," Mac said. He should head home to get some sleep too, but he
was reluctant to leave. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to be
seeing Vic for a while. Not until he finished this training, at
least.

Vic glanced around. "It's almost dawn," he finally said. "I should
find a bed somewhere."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Mac thought for a moment, then grinned. Moving fast, before he could
reconsider, he bit down hard on his tongue until he felt blood start
to flow. It was going to hurt like hell later, but he didn't care.

Then he grabbed Vic's face between his hands and kissed him hard,
thrusting his bleeding tongue into the other man's mouth.

Vic went stiff with surprise. Then he grabbed Mac back just as hard,
sucking on his tongue, obviously tasting the blood.

By the time they separated, they were both breathing hard. Mac felt
like he was going to burst the seam of his pants and Vic's jeans
looked to be in the same condition.

But he wasn't going to take advantage of that.

He smiled at his dazed partner. "I'll be waiting when you're ready,"
he said in a cocky voice. "Don't take too long."

He turned and headed for the door, then paused. "Just remember, it
doesn't have to be complicated to be real."

And then he headed home.
 

THE END of San Francisco Meetings

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