----------------------------------------
Chapter Seven
----------------------------------------

By the time Mac woke up, it was after one and the previous night
felt like some sort of weird dream. He was alone in the room, so Vic
had obviously gone to find food, and the growling in Mac's stomach
suggested that it thought that was an excellent idea.

A glance in the bathroom mirror told Mac that at least *part* of
last night hadn't been a dream. The side of his face where the goon
-- Brujah, Cash had called them -- had landed a punch was black and
blue from the cheekbone all the way down to the curve of his jaw. He
prodded it gently with a fingertip and winced. It was a miracle that
nothing was broken and that he hadn't lost any teeth, although one
or two felt a little loose. It hadn't felt this bad the night
before, but he'd probably been riding a wave of adrenaline.

He showered and shaved, taking extra care around the bruised side of
his face, then dressed to head downstairs. Periodically his stomach
would growl to remind him that it had been almost a full day since
he'd last eaten and that in the meantime he'd been in a fight as
well as -- he glanced at his wrist and caught his breath at the
faint marks of two puncture wounds, almost completely gone now -- as
well as... donating blood.

For a moment, all the blood he still *had* rushed to his groin at
the memory of that bite and how it had felt. His eyes glazed over
and he moaned faintly before he pushed back the slow burn of arousal
using sheer willpower.

At last as fit to be seen by human eyes as he could make himself,
Mac went to collect his room key and finally noticed the piece of
paper next to it. He picked it up and scanned over Vic's untidy
scrawl.

"Shopping?" Mac pouted. Vic had gone shopping without him? He felt a
little disappointed that his partner hadn't woken him to go too.
Then he shrugged. It wasn't like they had to spend *all* their time
together. After all, he'd had an evening out to himself. But still,
he *liked* spending time with Vic, now that the older man had
loosened up a little. Not that he'd ever *say* so, Mac thought to
himself with a grin.

Mac locked the door and headed for the stairs. Even though it was
late for lunch, delicious smells wafted up from the kitchen and
dining room, making his stomach growl even louder than it had before.

Then he paused and turned his head to look at the door to the
Director's suite, memories of what Cash had told him flashing
through his mind. The door stared back mutely. No answers there.

But there were answers behind it, assuming that the Director was up
or willing to tell him anything. But a thin thread of fear held him
back from knocking on that door. He was comfortable with the
Director he knew; the flirtatious woman who was both fond of and
firm with her agents, alternating between controlling them with an
iron fist and being a teasing friend. She only ever told them as
much as she thought they needed to know. He wasn't sure how she'd
react to the fact that he now knew more about her and what she was
than she'd ever told them.

On the other hand, he wouldn't know unless he asked.

Steeling himself to confront both the familiar -- the Director --
and the unfamiliar -- the Prince of Toronto -- Mac walked up to the
suite door and knocked.

He regretted the impulse almost immediately, and he started praying
that either she wasn't there or that she hadn't heard the knock. Of
course, he prayed in vain. Within seconds, the door opened and the
Director stared up at him. For a moment she looked pissed at the
interruption, but only for a moment. Then she got a good look at his
face and the door swung wide open.

"Inside, Mr. Ramsey," she ordered. "I want details, and fast."

Mac moved past her into the suite's sitting room. It was a strong
and powerful room, decorated in jewel tones and with rich materials.
A laptop sat open humming on the antique wood desk in the corner,
which was also covered with papers, telling him that she'd been
working when he'd knocked. A small dining table sat opposite it, and
two sofas flanked a large fireplace with a marble mantle. A small
blaze crackled merrily in it. The overall effect was warm and
friendly. He hoped that it was a good omen.

"Sit down," she told him, waving him towards the sofas. "Have you
eaten yet?" Mac's stomach growled before he could answer her and she
smiled. "I'll take that as a no."

She picked up the phone and spoke softly into it before moving to
join him. "Lunch will be here shortly. Now, what happened? And don't
leave out any details."

Her expression went completely hard on the question and Mac
swallowed, wondering how he was going to explain it all. Finally, he
decided to include everything and hope for the best.

"Cash and I were jumped by four Brujah looking for a fight with a
Gangrel," he said, deliberately using the Kindred terms that Cash
had used. "Then they got a look at me and decided that the Prince of
San Francisco had lied about witnessing the execution of Zane, who
it seems was an out-of-control Toreador. So, they decided instead
just to kill us both. Some of Cash's friends came to our rescue and
the four took off. I went back to Cash's place with him where I got
a somewhat complete explanation about the Kindred, although he said
I should really get be getting that lecture from the Prince of
Toronto, that being you, it seems. Then, later on, he brought me
back to the hotel, well before my dawn curfew," Mac added with a
grin. "I figured it was too late to talk to you, so I went to bed."

Finished, Mac took a deep breath and sat back to wait for the
reaction.

"Were you wearing the earring?"

Mac stared at her blankly for a moment, then remembered her marker
and lifted a hand to touch it. "Yes. Cash pointed it out to them,
but they said they didn't care."

Her eyes narrowed. "Names?"

He shrugged. "Cash called the leader of the bunch Marcus. I didn't
get any other names, though. I was a little busy for introductions."

"I... see. I'll talk to Luna tonight, although I'm sure that Cash
has already reported the breach of Truce to him. Your four Brujah
will probably find themselves staked out for the sun, knowing him."
The pleasure in her voice at the thought made him shiver. Usually
she was easy to deal with, to trust, and then she would say
something like that and he'd end up terrified of her, however
briefly.

Mac was really confused now, though. The Director was taking it all
in stride. She was upset about the attack, but not the rest.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again several time before he
could force out anything coherent. "You don't seem upset about me
finding out about the... Kindred, Cash called your kind?" he finally
asked.

There was a knock at the door before she could answer him. She
opened the door, and a hotel employee came in, pushing a serving
tray. A plate with a club sandwich and fries, as well as a Tsingtao
beer, was placed in front of Mac, then the server left after
receiving a generous tip from the Director.

She turned back to find him staring at her, waiting. "Well?" she
said impatiently in an almost maternal tone. "Eat your lunch before
it gets cold."

Mac wasn't sure he *could* eat, he was so nervous, but he obediently
picked up a fry and stuck it in his mouth.

The moment it hit his tongue, his body promptly reminded him just
how hungry he was, and he started eating, barely pausing long enough
to chew the food before swallowing.

When the plate was bare, he sat back again, sipping the last of his
beer. Now that his stomach was full, he found he wasn't as anxious
about her reaction as he had been before.

She was watching him with a fond smile on her face. "Better?" He
nodded. "Good. And now, I'm not upset. In fact, I'm quite pleased."

*That* surprised Mac. "Pleased?" He thought about it for a moment.
Understanding wasn't long in coming. "You *wanted* us to find out
about the Kindred. That's why you brought us with you. You figured
that after a few nights sitting in a club full of... vampires, we'd
twig, sooner or later."

The smile was full of pride now. "Very good, Mr. Ramsey. In fact, I
rather expected that you would be the first to 'twig,' as you put
it. I'm glad to see that my faith in you is not misplaced."

Then her expression turned cold again. "But the method was *not*
what I had planned. As soon as we arrive at the Haven tonight, you
and I will go to lodge a formal complaint with Luna."

"Do we have to?" Mac asked nervously. "I mean if Cash has already
told him about what happened..." His voice trailed off. He really
didn't want to meet a man who could order the deaths of his own
people so casually. Of course, the Director had done it in the past
too, but he *knew* the Director. Luna was an unknown as far as he
was concerned.

The Director shook her head. "If I let this slide, then I'm saying
that I'm weak. I do *not* want to have challengers trying to take my
city away from me." Then her voice softened a little. "But we'll do
it privately, out of consideration for our host. You won't have to
face any of the others." She paused, then grinned. "At least not
yet."

Mac nodded reluctantly. He still didn't like the idea, but he did
understand the reasoning. In a way, it was a lot like the Hong Kong
crime families he'd been around growing up. You never showed
weakness, or you opened yourself up to attack, but if someone could
be a useful ally in the future, you gave him the chance to save
face. It was a little strange thinking of his new "Family" in the
terms as his old one, but the parallels were obvious.

Then a thought occurred to him. "What about Vic and LiAnn?" he
asked. "What do I tell them?"

The Director leaned back in her seat, tapping a thoughtful finger
against her lips for a moment before answering. "About the attack,
anything you like. About the Kindred, nothing for the time being. I
still want to see if they figure it out on their own." Mac nodded.

His plate was empty and the conversation seemed to have reached a
logical conclusion, so he got to his feet to leave.

Just before he opened the door, the Director called out. "Mac?"

He stopped and turned around. She nodded to him. "You did well. I'm
glad to see you didn't disappoint me."

Mac couldn't help grinning at the praise. Then he headed off to kill
time until they had to leave for the Haven.

>>>~~~<<<

Mac spent the rest of the afternoon out on the back patio,
overlooking the hotel's gardens, enjoying the somewhat weak
sunshine. While the clouds kept it from being sunbathing weather, it
was still a hell of a lot warmer than back in Toronto. Back there,
there was snow on the ground -- well, at least slush. Here, he could
sit out in short sleeves without getting a chill.

An hour before sunset, he finally went in to change for the evening.
When he got to the room, he found the shower in use. Vic was
obviously back from his little shopping trip.

Mac stopped in his tracks, looking at his bed. Sitting on his pillow
was a small white box, tied with a ribbon and decorated with a bow.
A slow grin spread over his face. Vic had bought him a present.

He sat down on the bed and picked up the box. He held it to his ear
and shook it, playing the old "try to figure out what it is before
opening the box" game. It rattled slightly, but that was the only
clue. Mac finally gave in to his curiosity and undid the ribbon.

The lid lifted away to reveal a pendant strung on a leather thong,
sitting on a bed of cotton. Mac snagged the thong and lifted it up,
fascinated by the way the light played across the intricate twists
and turns of the metal. He'd never seen anything like it before, and
yet it was strangely familiar.

He reached up with his other hand and lowered the pendant slowly
into the palm.

Mac gasped. It felt like every hair on his body -- and he had a lot
of hair -- was suddenly standing on end. He blinked, and the world
tilted on its axis.

He was home, in Toronto. Maybe. Then again, maybe not. He was in
bed, and it was *his* bed, made with *his* sheets and covers, but
the room itself was completely unfamiliar. For one thing, there were
no windows in the room.

He was naked, which made sense since he was in bed. He'd never liked
sleep tied up in pajamas. However, he was also very, very aroused,
despite being completely alone in the bed.

Then there was a coughing noise, and he looked towards the bedroom
door. He caught his breath. Standing there was a very large mountain
lion with brilliant green eyes. Very *familiar* green eyes. Mac sat
very still as it stalked across the room towards him. Part of him
was screaming at him to move, and yet he was strangely unconcerned.

The oversized cat leapt up onto the bed and came closer, finally
stopping when it was straddling his body. Then, making a rumbling
noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr, it settled its weight
down on him and *damn* it was heavy.

Just when he thought he was going to be crushed, the cat's shape did
a melty twist and was suddenly gone. Left in its place was a very
naked, very aroused Vic Mansfield, his eyes the exact same shade of
brilliant green as the cat's, with a slight silver shimmer. He
smiled a lazy smile at Mac and drew closer and closer, until their
lips...

"Well?"

Mac jumped and opened his eyes. Vic was standing leaning against the
wall, damp and with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. Mac's
body reacted predictably to the sight of all that lean, beautiful,
naked male flesh.

"Well, what?" he asked stupidly, not able to figure out the
question, all of his blood having deserted his brain.

Vic shifted nervously. "Do you like it?"

"Huh? Oh!" He looked down at the pendant in his hand. Strange. For a
moment, it had felt like something had happened, but for the life of
him, he couldn't remember what. "I think it's great," he said
honestly and Vic relaxed.

And it *was* great, although he wasn't sure why. It wasn't his usual
sort of jewelry, but there was something about it that drew him. He
picked it up again and carefully draped it around his neck. It fell
into place like it was meant to be there.

"Perfect," he whispered to himself.

Then he shook his head, forcing his thoughts back to more practical
matters. "The Director wants to head over early, right after
sunset," he told Vic, who was busily pulling clothes from the closet.

Vic frowned. "Why?" he asked. After all, it was a good hour earlier
than they'd gone over the last few nights.

Mac shrugged. "She wants to talk to the host of these meetings about
the attack last night. After all, Cash is one of his people, and
we're supposed to be protected by the Truce."

Vic nodded slowly. "Okay, that makes sense. Well, you better get
moving then. Sunset is less than a half-hour away."

Mac blinked in confusion. It *had* been nearly an hour away when
he'd come in. A glance at the clock confirmed that he had somehow
managed to lose a half-hour somewhere.

Weird, he thought, heading for the bathroom.

>>>~~~<<<

A quick shave and change of clothing later, Mac made it downstairs
just as the limo pulled up in front of the hotel. He'd moved fast,
but had still taken care with his appearance. After all, it wouldn't
do to make a bad impression on the Prince of the city, since keeping
with the Hong Kong model in his mind, it would reflect badly on the
Director. He'd gone with his favorite look, though; a black linen
suit and a smooth-front white shirt, high-necked and collarless.
Against it, the silver pendant and black leather thong looked
classy. He hadn't even considered not wearing it.

The Director looked him up and down, straightened his lapels and
tweaked the pendant before stepping back and nodding in satisfaction.

"Mac, are you all right?" LiAnn gasped. Mac touched his jaw, still
feeling the low-level ache from the bruising. He'd forgotten that he
hadn't seen LiAnn since leaving the Haven with Cash the night
before, so she didn't know about the attack.

"It looks worse than it feels," he assured her, secretly pleased at
the unexpected show of concern.

"It is also why we are heading over early, so let's go, children,"
the Director added, gesturing towards the waiting limo.

The drive seemed endless, but was over faster than Mac would have
liked. Before he was really ready for the upcoming confrontation,
they were pulling to a stop in front of the club.

"Come with me, Mac," the Director said, heading towards the stairs
that led up to the club's offices, Mac assumed. He could see the
large windows of a room overlooking the dance floor. He looked back
longingly as Vic and LiAnn headed through the mostly empty room to
claim their usual table. In the corner, the band was tuning up.

Then he sighed and obediently followed his employer up the stairs.

There was a small crowd waiting for them. Cash and Lillie, he
already knew, and he threw a relieved smile Cash's way. He was glad
to see the man there to back him up. The rest of the group was
unfamiliar, though.

The handsome man sitting behind the modern desk was presumably Luna.
He wore an aura of power like a cloak. The stylish suit he was
wearing spoke of a *lot* of money. Lillie was elegantly draped over
the back of his chair, and she smiled brightly at him, although her
eyes flashed when they flickered to the bruised side of his face.

The second man was just as handsome as Luna, but less appealing.
They looked about the same age, but this man *felt* younger. His
clothes were more trendy, and he felt... slimy to Mac. He was pacing
in front of the windows, pausing only long enough to glare at Mac,
who resisted the urge to take a step back.

Then he got a good look at the last person in the room and *did*
take a step back. The man was completely hairless and pale like a
corpse. His ears rose to sharp points, nearly higher than the top of
his head. Mac flinched from meeting his eyes, not sure that he
wanted to know what he might find there. Dressed all in black, he
resembled the vampires of the old silent films, back before they
were glamorized by Hollywood.

The Director moved forward to stand in front of the desk, drawing up
to her full height. Despite the fact that she was probably the
shortest person in the room, she had a presence that made her seem
at least a foot taller.

"I have come to file a grievance," she said quietly, although her
voice filled the room. "There has been a breach of Truce and an
attempt on the life of one of my retainers." Reacting to a cue he
hadn't even noticed, Mac moved to stand one step behind and to the
side of her. Luna glanced at him, pinning him in place with his
intense expression.

"Cash has made his statement," he said seriously. "I would like you
to tell us what happened now."

Mac took a deep breath before beginning. Deciding that they didn't
need *too* much personal detail, he started with their decision to
leave the club and continued until the moment they left the parking
lot after the attack. Luna broke in from time to time to ask
questions, drawing out details Mac hadn't even realized he'd noticed.

Finally he finished and there was silence for a minute.

"Thank you, Mr. Ramsey," Luna said, then turned to the pacing man.
"Cameron, I want Marcus and his friends brought to me before
morning."

Cameron stopped pacing and turned around. "You can't be taking
this... this *slander* seriously!"

That bought him glares from almost everyone in the room. "You've
heard the statements from both Cash and Mr. Ramsey and they agree in
every detail," Luna pointed out.

"Of course they do," the man said with a sneer. "They came up with
this fairytale together."

Cash growled, low in his throat, and moved towards Cameron. Luna
restrained him with a simple gesture. "And why would they do that?"
he asked mildly.

"Cash wants to undermine my position," Cameron said. "And you're
buying it just because he's a good fuck."

Lillie grimaced at the crudity, but Luna remained expressionless,
other than a narrowing of his eyes. "And Ramsey's reason for going
along with this?" he asked in a dangerous tone. "He's never met you
before tonight."

Seeming to not notice the warning in his boss's voice, Cameron waved
dismissively in Mac's direction. "For the same reason: Cash is a
good fuck."

This time it was Mac who growled angrily, while Cash muttered "Like
you'll ever find out first-hand," under his breath.

But it was the Director who responded directly. She moved to stand
toe to toe with the man and glared up at him. "Be very careful about
accusing my people of lying," she hissed at him. "Push me and you
won't like the response."

At least the man had the sense to back down. The Director in a cold
rage was enough to make the bravest -- or most foolish -- of men
want to wet his pants. Instead of responding, he looked to Luna.

"Bring them in," The Prince said firmly. "They will have the chance
to make their case before the council."

Cameron's jaw clenched, but he finally nodded and headed for the
exit. Luna turned his attention back to the Director. "This will be
dealt with," he assured her. "I swear."

She nodded regally. "Then I will leave it in your hands," she told
him. "But if the Brujah had succeeded in killing Mac, I would not be
so... polite."

"If they had succeeded, they would be yours to do with as you liked
and the Brujah of this city would be looking for a new Primogen."

With that finished, the atmosphere in the room lightened quite a
bit. Luna emerged from behind the desk, suddenly becoming less
intimidating, although no less charismatic. He brushed a hand down
Cash's arm possessively, then moved over to where Mac was standing.

"Amazing," he said, reaching up to brush fingers over his jaw. Mac
shivered lightly at the touch. "They told me, but I didn't really
believe it."

Mac swallowed, his mouth gone desert-dry. Was this intense sexuality
something all Princes had in common? His body was responding as
helplessly to Luna as it did to the Director's teasing. "I'm not
Zane," he said in a remarkably steady voice considering the
circumstances.

Luna grinned. "Obviously not," he said, then thankfully stepped
back. "But the resemblance is startling." He looked Mac up and down
speculatively.

A discrete cough brought the appraisal to an abrupt end. "Back off,
Julian," the Director said, amusement plain in her voice. "He's
mine."

While Mac bristled at the possessive tone, he was still relieved
when Luna moved away. Once there was some distance between them, he
was able to collect his thoughts

"However," Luna said, leaning back against the desk, his expression
serious again. "There is still the matter of the breaking of
Masquerade."

Mac glanced at Cash who had gone tense at the words. He remembered
what he'd been told the night before about the secrecy that was
paramount to the Kindred for protection from a fearful human
population and gulped. He hadn't meant to get Cash in trouble. "If
anyone broke it, it was Marcus's goon," he broke in. "I pushed Cash
to answer my questions, but that wouldn't have been necessary if it
weren't for the goon sprouting fangs and glowing silver eyes. Cash
tried to put me off, but I wouldn't leave without an explanation. He
did try."

Luna glanced at the Director who smiled. "I brought him with me to
see if he would figure it out. While this was not exactly what I
planned, I have no complaint."

Luna nodded, and both Mac and Cash relaxed. "Accepted. I will let
you know when Marcus and his cohorts have been delivered. In the
meantime, I need to prepare for the meetings. I will see you later."

He headed through a door at the back of the room and disappeared
from sight. Mac breathed a huge sigh of relief and sank into a
nearby chair. He tensed slightly when the hairless man moved towards
him, accompanied by a faint stench that made him think of sewers,
but he just patted Mac on the shoulder and said, "You did well,"
before following Luna.

Mac stared after him and Cash laughed. "High praise indeed from a
Nosferatu," he said, then left as well.

Lillie moved to take the seat behind the desk. The Director headed
for the door they'd come in through and Mac got to his feet to
follow her.

"Mac," Lillie said, then waited until he turned to face her. "I'll
see you later," she promised with a seductive smile.

Mac grinned. "I'll look forward to it."

----------------------------------------
Chapter Eight
----------------------------------------

The club was nearly full by the time Mac and the Director came back
down the stairs from their meeting with the guy who was supposed to
deal with the attack on Mac the night before. Vic wasn't sure how
the man was supposed to do that, but he supposed it wasn't his
problem.

Then again, an attack on one of his partners *was* his problem.

Mac looked a little shaky on his feet and Vic wondered if the
Director had been playing her little games again. He'd seen Mac face
down certain death without flinching, making jokes, then run scared
when the Director went into predator mode. Not that he really blamed
him; The Director didn't aim those attentions his way very often,
but when she did, Vic ended up shaking in his boots.

"Julian will deal with the matter," she said, sinking into one of
the seats at the small table. Mac more collapsed into his. Vic
examined the dark circles under his eyes and wondered if the man
should even be out of bed. Considering the size and color of the
bruise, he'd taking one hell of a shot.

More drinks were delivered; a soda for Mac, since he didn't look
like he could hold any liquor, and a deep red wine for the Director.
Meanwhile, the band had started to play something low and soothing.
LiAnn could probably tell him the title and composer, along with a
brief history of the piece, but Vic didn't care: It sounded nice and
that was enough for him.

"So," he finally said when no one else seemed interested in starting
a conversation and the silence got a little stilted. "How much
longer are these meetings going on, and what are they about anyway?"

"Haven't I said?" the Director said in mock surprise. "How
thoughtless of me." Both Mac and LiAnn had leaned forward at the
question, obviously curious, Vic noticed.
"Well, after tonight there are two more nights of meetings, with a
party the following night. We fly home, four nights from now. As for
the purpose." She paused, apparently for dramatic effect. "Call it a
discussion of inter-agency cooperation," she finally said.

Vic frowned. "What sort of agencies?" he asked suspiciously.

The Director leaned over and patted his cheek fondly. "So curious.
How sweet. However, you needn't worry yourself over that, Victor. It
doesn't affect you right now."

Vic wanted to protest that assumption, but before he could, she
stood and headed for the meeting rooms in back, taking her wineglass
with her.

"Anyone else have a clue what she meant by inter-agency cooperation?"
Vic asked, glancing at his partners.

LiAnn shrugged, already losing interest in the conversation. Mac
shrugged too, but his gaze slid to the side; something it did when
he was hiding something. "Mac?"

Mac shrugged again, but wouldn't meet his eyes. He knew something,
but Vic decided that it wasn't exactly the time or place to pry it
out of him. He did make a note of it for later, however.

"So," he said, changing the subject. "What is this Julian person
like?"

Mac shuddered theatrically. "Picture a male version of the
Director," he said conspiratorially to Vic, who shuddered as well.
LiAnn's lips twitched at the display and Vic exchanged satisfied
glances with Mac at that. Yep, the ice-queen façade was definitely
starting to erode.

"Did he sit on your lap?" Vic teased and Mac actually blushed.

"Nope, but he seemed to be considering it before the Director told
him to back off. Actually, if you met him you'd probably think he
was a Mafia Don or something. Handsome, cultured, well-dressed and
somehow scary as hell."

That worried Vic. "Maybe he *is* Mafia," he suggested, but Mac was
already shaking his head.

"No, he isn't," was all he would say.

Vic was getting more and more suspicious now. Mac obviously knew
something he wasn't telling and that bothered Vic. He and his
partner were definitely going to have a little talk when they got
back to the hotel.

Until then, though, he was going to keep his eyes open. Something
weird was going on, and he wanted to know what.

>>>~~~<<<

As the night went on, Vic made a mental list of everything that
struck him as odd, drawing on his training as a detective. He wasn't
sure what most of them meant, or even if they meant anything, but he
had no way of knowing what was significant yet. He wished he could
pull out a notebook and jot down some notes, but that would have
attracted attention he didn't want.

The first item on his list seemed fairly innocuous. Considering the
mix of people in the club, you would expect to see a wide variety of
drinks, tending towards either beer or hard liquor, but the
overwhelming favorite drink was the same red wine that the Director
had been drinking earlier, somehow darker and slightly thicker in
consistency than he was familiar with. Perhaps it was a local
specialty or something, but it *was* strange.

Second was the pattern of interactions between groups. As he'd
noticed on previous evenings, each group stayed mostly to themselves.
However, there *was* interaction, if only a look or a nod. Some of
those seemed reasonably friendly, while others looked to be verging
on violence. There was some sort of pattern to it -- Vic was sure of
it -- but it eluded him, kind of like the on-the-tip-of-my-tongue
phenomenon.

Jackie always said that his surveillance skills were pitiful, and he
was noticed in his watching. It got him a few angry glares and one
rather disturbing snarl, all accompanied by a weird flash of silver
in the eyes. A few looked so hostile that he'd quickly looked in
another direction. Vic wasn't a coward, but he knew danger when he
saw it and Victor Mansfield was *not* a fool. As for the silver, he
just assumed that it was something to do with the lighting in the
club.

"My, don't we look suspicious tonight," a husky voice purred in his
ear. Vic twisted in his seat to look up at an obviously amused
Lillie.

"What?"

"You have the look of a cop in a suspected drug house," she said
with a smile. "You really should work on your poker face."

Vic snorted. "My poker face is fine. It just doesn't translate
well," he said. In his mind he could hear Jackie telling him 'You
look like the hotel dick.' The kindest comment he'd received was
that his face was too honest for surveillance. "I was just curious,"
he told her. "I hope I didn't offend."

For a moment, his eyes flickered over to the bar where Mac was
chatting with Cash. The Director had promised that Mac's attackers
were going to be dealt with, but until then he was keeping a close
eye on his partner.

"Of course not," she said, sitting down. "I even know a few cops."

"I'm not a cop."

LiAnn frowned and excused herself. For some reason she seemed to
have taken a dislike to the elegant club-owner. But then she always
seemed to take a dislike to any woman who showed an interest in
either of her partners -- other than the Director, of course -- even
though she'd made it clear that she didn't want either of them.

Lillie cocked her head to the side, watching LiAnn walk away, an
amused smile on her lips, before turning back to Vic. "Maybe not
now, but you used to be," she said confidently. Vic didn't bother
denying the comment: He'd also been told that he was a lousy liar.
"So tell me about yourself. What do you do when you're not being
suspicious?"

A glass of the same red wine he'd noticed earlier was set down next
to her and when she sipped, it left a sheen on her lips that
disturbingly made him think of blood. He shook off the fancy before
answering.

"I listen to music, mostly old-style blues. I cook, although not very
well yet." Vic grinned, remembering the time the fire department had
shown up while he was trying to make blackened catfish; the resulting
smoke had set off the smoke-detectors in the corridor. The result had
been so over-spiced that it had been inedible. His second attempt
hadn't been half-bad, though, so he *was* improving with practice.

"How domestic. And do you cook for Mac as well?"

Vic drew his gaze back to Lillie after it had wandered over to his
partner again. Mac was laughing at something the bartender had just
said. "What?"

"Do you cook for the delightful young man that you are watching so
intently?" The smile on her face said that she was teasing him.

Vic shook his head. "Mac likes 'authentic' Chinese food, so he seems
to live on take-out."

"How long have you been together?" There was no mistaking the
meaning of her question.

"We aren't lovers," Vic told her. "We've been working together for a
little over two years, though."

"Really? The way you've been watching him, I would have thought...
On the other hand, he *did* spend the night with Cash," she said
thoughtfully to himself.

"I've been keeping an eye on his because he attracts trouble like
honey attracts flies. After last night, I think I have reason to
worry."

"You don't seem to worry about the young lady."

"LiAnn is very good at avoiding trouble," he said defensively.

"And are you and she..." Lillie trailed off suggestively.

The slight flash of pain was barely noticeable, unlike the months
after she'd called off their engagement. "Not for more than a year.
And before that, she was with Mac," he said, wondering why he was
telling all of this to someone who was almost a complete stranger.
There was just something about the woman that seemed to compel him
to tell her everything she wanted to know.

"I see." There was a wealth of innuendo in the comment. "Well then,"
she finally said, her expression turning seductive. "If you aren't
involved with either of them, perhaps you'll reconsider my offer?"
She raised a single arched eyebrow.

"Um..." Vic shifted in his seat uneasily.

"Or don't you find me attractive?"

"No! I mean you are very attractive. It's just..."

"All I'm suggesting is one night," she said. "After all, you're just
here for the week."

"That's the problem," Vic said, seizing on the comment. "I don't..."

"Do casual sex?" she finished for him, smiling again. "How old-
fashioned. Very well, I won't press. Actually, it's rather sweet."

Vic winced. He was reasonably sure that the comment wasn't *meant*
to be patronizing, but Lillie struck him as the sort of person for
whom casual sex was almost a way of life.

"Having fun?"

Vic looked up as Mac and Cash moved to join them. "Maybe not as much
as you," he said and was surprised to hear a tiny bit of bitterness
in his voice. Cash's eyebrows went up and he smiled, like he was
seeing something no one else was. Mac just laughed.

"Well, well, well. Aren't we all the happy family," the Director
said, seeming to appear almost out of thin air, LiAnn right behind
her. The meetings must be over for the night, and Vic was a little
surprised to notice that it was only an hour to sunrise.

The Director turned to Cash. "Marcus?" she asked in a hard voice.

Cash's smile disappeared. "Cameron seems to be having... trouble
locating him. Until he does, I am Mac's personal bodyguard. Julian's
orders."

She frowned. "If he continues to have... 'trouble,'" she said,
imitating Cash's phrasing, "*I* will have a little talk with him.
Tell him for me; he really doesn't want that. Understood?"

Vic was impressed; Cash didn't even break a sweat. "Understood."

"Good."

As usual, the limo was waiting for them; one of the many that the
meeting attendees and their people were climbing into. Vic wondered
where everyone else was staying; their group was the only one at the
Garden House. Considering how isolationist the different groups
were, he wouldn't be surprised if every delegation was housed at a
different hotel or B&B around town.

He was also a little surprised that there were no cops around. The
conversation earlier with Mac had reminded him just how suspicious
these meetings would look to a cop. And if they *were* completely
legit, wouldn't a cop want to make sure that there wasn't any
trouble? On the other hand, Lillie's comment about 'knowing' cops
might explain that. Either that or a lot of money applied in the
right places.

Cash's bike was parked right next to the main door, so he had his
helmet on and the engine revved up by the time they were ready to
drive off. As they did, he fell in behind to follow them, watching
for trouble.

Vic couldn't help noticing that the Director looked seriously pissed
off. The atmosphere in the limo was tense all the way back to the
Garden House. Once there, the Director gestured Cash over. "Tell
Luna he's got a deadline of tomorrow, this time. Find Marcus and his
friends or I will.

Cash nodded coolly. "I'll tell him."

"Good." With that, she turned and headed up the steps, her heels
clicking on the marble.

Mac winced, then wrapped his arms around Cash. "See you tomorrow,"
he said, then gently kissed the man.

"Watch your back, gorgeous," Cash replied. He sat on the bike and
watched as Mac and LiAnn headed inside, then turned his attention to
Vic, who was waiting patiently. "You have something to say?" he
asked.

Vic stepped in close, putting on his most threatening expression. "I
hope you're a better bodyguard than tour guide," he told the man.
"Because if anything happens to Mac, I'm coming after you."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a promise. Letting Mac go anywhere with you was obviously
a mistake. It's not going to happen again."

Cash grinned. "Mac's a big boy, you know. He can chose his own
friends."

Vic snorted. "He also has a record of getting involved with
terrorists, thieves and killers," he said, carefully ignoring the
fact that that also described most of *his* romantic attempts since
the breakup with LiAnn. "He's a little too trusting for his own
good."

Cash's 'I know something you don't know' smile was back in full
force. "You know, Mansfield, you almost sound jealous. Don't like
anyone else hanging around your boy?" Vic didn't rise to the bait.

"Just remember what I said," he said, then turned and headed inside.
LiAnn and the Director had already headed upstairs, but Mac was
waiting for him.

"What the hell was *that* all about?" he demanded, grabbing Vic's
arm.

"Just clearing up a few points."

"Oh great. Just... great. What's next, background checks on all of
my dates? You want to threaten them *before* I go out with them? Or
maybe I should save myself the trouble and just join a monastery
now."

Mac was furious, and deep down, Vic knew he had every right in the
world to be. He was acting like an over-protective brother, or
worse, a jealous... something. "Mac, what's going on here?"

"You're acting like an ass," was the prompt reply.

"*Other* than that," Vic said tiredly. "And don't play innocent. You
know something you aren't telling, and it could put us all in
danger. We're partners, damnit. *Talk* to me."

Mac glanced around, then pulled Vic into the empty dining room. It
was still before dawn, and while they could hear sounds of life from
the kitchen, all the chairs were still up on the tables and the room
wasn't open for service.

"Listen, I *can't* tell you." Vic started to protest, but Mac hushed
him. "First of all, the Director says she wants you to figure it out
on your own. Second, even if I *did* tell you, you wouldn't believe
me. It's..." He paused, looking for words that apparently weren't
coming. Then he sighed. "It's got to do with the Director: Who and
*what* she is. If you want to know more right now, you'll have to
talk to *her*."

Vic wasn't sure he wanted to press anymore -- the Director didn't
like people prying into her business, even when it was theirs too --
and even if he did want to, Mac's expression would have stopped him.
The younger man looked worried and more than a little afraid. Vic
decided to take pity on him.

"All right, I'll let it go. For now," he warned. Mac smiled
gratefully and relaxed. "But we stay here today," he warned. "No
sight-seeing, no shopping, no nothing. You don't give this Marcus
person a free shot at you, got it?"

"Got it," Mac said, rolling his eyes. "But it's not like he's going
to be coming after me during daylight."

"You can't be sure about that." Mac opened his mouth, then shut it
again. Vic frowned; Mac had seemed pretty sure. "Mac?"

"Ask me again when we get home," was the only answer he got.

The arrival of staff wanting to set up for breakfast interrupted the
rather surreal conversation they were having and they headed for
their room and bed.

Once in bed, though, Vic had trouble getting to sleep. His mind kept
turning over the puzzle of Mac's comments and his own observations.
He must have been more tired than he thought. Either that or he'd
seen too many late-night horror movies, since only one explanation
was coming to mind.

And while he'd called the Director a lot of things in the years
since she'd blackmailed him into working for the Agency -- although
rarely to her face -- calling her a vampire was too ridiculous for
word.
 

>>>~~~<<<

They didn't wake up until lunchtime. The bruise on Mac's face was
already fading to a mottled brown and when they ate lunch, he didn't
look like it hurt to chew anymore. The meal was surprising quiet --
Mac rarely did *anything* quietly -- and Vic was distracted by his
self-imposed job of watching for anything suspicious. He saw nothing
and Mac seemed completely unconcerned.

Vic still wished he had a gun. Unarmed, he felt naked.

After lunch they found a TV room -- that being the one necessity
missing from their room -- and settled down for the afternoon. They
flipped back and forth between a Vancouver-LA hockey game and a
martial arts flick. Vic hooted at the stupid moves the hockey
players made, all the while complaining that *he* could do better,
and Mac heckled the lousy sub-titles on the Hong Kong-made movie,
suggesting that they'd been written by someone with a Chinese-
English dictionary who didn't understand either language. All in
all, it was a fun day.

The only problem was that the Director seemed to be deliberately
avoiding him. Mac had told him to talk to her if he wanted answers,
but she never emerged from her suite and no one answered the door
when he'd knocked. Even LiAnn didn't seem to know where the woman
was, and of them all, the Director-proclaimed 'teacher's pet' was
the closest to her.

All in all, Vic was starting to count the hours until they headed
home. San Francisco was turning out to be just a little too weird
for his tastes.

The Director finally made her appearance just in time to leave for
the Haven. In that entire time, Mac hadn't been out of his sight
once, except for when one of them was in the bathroom. At those
times, Vic was either right outside the door, or when he had showered
he had trusted Mac to keep his word and not run off.

Through it all, Mac just seemed amused.

But that changed as the sun went down. Vic would have had to be
blind to miss how Mac got more and more apprehensive the darker it
got outside. For a moment he reconsidered the exhaustion-induced
vampire theory, then decided to just chalk it up to worry about what
was going to happen at the Haven.

Cash arrived a half-hour after sunset along with the limo. He was
looking very tense, and the bulges under his leather jacket said
that he, at least, was well armed. When the Director shot him a
glance, asking the obvious question silently, he shook his head.

Marcus and his cronies were still on the loose out there.

When they arrived at the Haven, they found that Cash wasn't the only
one who was tense. There were more than a half-dozen faces that Vic
didn't recognize and they all had the hard and wary look of
soldiers. It reassured him for a moment, but only a moment. Then he
got a look at Cash's unhappy expression and Lillie's coldly angry
one.

"Brujah?" he heard Mac ask quietly and Cash confirmed it, just as
quietly. The word didn't mean anything to Vic, except in reference
to some sort of male witch, which didn't exactly fit the
circumstances.

Vic gestured them into an alcove near the door where coats were
hung. "What the hell is a Brujah?" he asked them, suddenly tired of
all the secrets.

Cash glanced at Mac, then checked the area outside the alcove for
listeners before answering. "A family. A... gang, I guess you could
call them," he finally said, although Vic had the feeling that there
was more to it than that. "Marcus is Brujah. Julian ordered their
leader to bring him in, but either they haven't found them yet or
they're hiding him." The glare he shot at the room in general and
the Brujah specifically told Vic which option *Cash* thought more
likely.

Suddenly Vic had a headache: They were about to spend the evening in
a club surrounded by the armed friends of the men who had tried to
kill Mac, and other than Cash, they were unarmed. The hairs on his
neck were all standing on end and Vic felt like he had target
painted on his back.

For once, the Director escorted them to their table, then turned to
survey the room. "If this isn't resolved tonight, the three of you
will be on a plane to Toronto tomorrow morning even if I have to
charter one," she said in a tone that didn't allow for protests. Not
that Vic was inclined to protest; at the moment, heading for home
sounded like a good idea to *him*.

Then she left for what she'd told them was the second-last night of
her mysterious meetings. Vic wondered if they would *ever* find out
what those were about. He doubted it, though. If she didn't think
they needed to know, she wasn't going to say.

After that, the evening settled down into a stomach-roiling tension
that left Vic wanting to order a bottle of antacid instead of beer.
They'd taken their usual table, up against the wall, and Mac was
sitting closest to the wall with Cash between him and the rest of
the room in the seat that Vic would have taken if the local hadn't
got to it first. Vic settled for taking the seat directly opposite
Cash with LiAnn next to the wall. The smile on Cash's face said that
he hadn't missed that.

It was going to be a looooong night.

>>>~~~<<<

Despite -- or perhaps due to -- the high level of tension, the
evening passed quietly. None of them danced, and they all stuck to
non-alcoholic drinks. Lillie dropped by a couple times to keep them
up-to-date on the search.

The first sign of relief came just after midnight when Lillie let
them know that Cameron -- who was apparently the head of these
'Brujah' -- had just delivered three of the four men being hunted
for. They were Luna's estate, waiting under guard for their chance
to explain themselves. However, that bit of good new was tempered by
the fact that one of the men was still on the loose, and that was
the ringleader, Marcus.

Still, Vic started to relax. While Marcus still being free meant
that Mac -- and Cash, he supposed -- could still be in danger, at
least they now knew that there *was* an honest effort being made to
find him.

Vic finally managed to loosen up enough to start chatting with Cash.
The man turned out to be a reasonably okay guy. They might even have
been friends if it weren't for the feeling that they were rivals for
Mac, even though Vic had no claim on him except as a partner.

Maybe he was just as bad as LiAnn; not wanting to take a chance on
the man as a romantic partner, but unwilling to let him find someone
else. It was a disturbing thought.

But that thought brought something else to his attention.

"LiAnn."

Mac looked over from his conversation with Cash. "She went to the
ladies room."

"I know that," Vic said, exasperated. He checked his watch. "But she
*never* takes half an hour, especially considering the circumstances."

That got Mac's attention. He'd known LiAnn much longer that Vic, so
he recognized the truth in the statement. Immediately, he started to
his feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Cash snapped, grabbing
his arm. Mac jerked it out of the man's grasp.

"I'm going after my partner," he said and pushed past Cash, heading
for the back corridor where the restrooms were. Cursing, Vic hurried
after him, Cash right on his heels.

Ignoring the shocked looks he got, Mac pushed open the door to the
ladies room. "LiAnn!"

There was no answer.

Vic turned to Cash. "Is there any other way out of here?"

Cash nodded to a door at the end of the corridor. "That leads out
back, but it's wired. Opening it sets off the fire alarm.

"Well, let's find out," Mac snapped, and pushed the door open so
hard that it actually banged against the outside wall.

There was no alarm.

"Shit," Cash hissed, scanning the narrow alleyway between the Haven
and the building behind it. There were two dumpsters, but other than
that was surprisingly tidy. There was no sign of life.

"LiAnn!" Mac shouted, despite Vic's gestures to stay quiet.

"Right over here," a masculine voice said.

The dark haired man who stepped out from behind the dumpsters was
dressed in clothes that had been elegant, but now were grubby and
wrinkled. Marcus -- assuming this was him -- obviously hadn't been
sleeping comfortably the last two nights. But that didn't detract
from his menace, especially since he had a barely-conscious LiAnn by
the throat and a gun pointed at them.

"Took you long enough," he said with a sneer. "I was about to just
kill her and leave."

"Don't be a fool, Marcus," Cash said, taking a step forward. "You're
just digging yourself in deeper. This isn't going to change anything."

"No, I suppose it won't," Marcus said, slowly lowering his gun. Vic
decided that maybe he should start breathing again.

Then the man smiled, a cold, cruel smile. "But at least I won't go
alone," he said, swinging the gun to point at Mac.

"No!" Vic shouted, already moving.

----------------------------------------
Chapter Nine
----------------------------------------

"He's watching you again."

Mac glanced over at Cash after giving the bartender his order. He
knew Vic was watching; it was the same thing he'd be doing if their
roles were reversed. "He's watching my back."

"That's my job tonight," the man said with a grin.

Having Cash watching his back was a weird experience for Mac. It had
been years since he'd had to trust anyone there other than LiAnn or
Vic -- and Vic more often than not, it seemed. It wasn't that he
didn't trust Cash -- he did, which was weird in itself since they'd
only met a few days earlier. The problem was that he didn't *know*
the man or how he would react in a situation. Sure, he'd seen Cash
in a fight and knew he could handle himself, but there wasn't the
instinctive knowledge of which way he was going to move that he had
with his partners.

"Relax, gorgeous. It'll be all over soon."

"You know," Mac said with a wry grin, "that could be interpreted in
ways that aren't exactly reassuring." The bartender placed a glass
of ginger-ale in front of him. He really wanted a beer, but that
wouldn't be a good idea.

Cash snorted and scanned the room before turning back to him.
"That's new," he commented, reaching over to touch the pendant
resting against Mac's chest.

"Hmm? Oh, that." Strangely, he'd forgotten about the pendant until

Cash pointed it out. It felt so natural around his neck; like it had
always been there. "Vic picked it up for me the other day."

Cash grinned. "You two are close, aren't you?"

"Well sure. We've been working together for two years now. Of
course, when we first met we mixed like oil and water, but we became
friends after LiAnn dumped him. Maybe we should call ourselves the
Society of LiAnn's Ex-Lovers."

"*Just* friends?"

Mac flushed at the smirk on the other man's face. The question
brought to mind some of those fantasies he'd been having about Vic
Mansfield for months. Fantasies that had seemed completely
impossible until this trip, when he'd found out that Vic had also
had male lovers in the past. Now they were merely improbably. "Just
friends."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Not the answer I was expecting. The way he's been acting; watching
you, warning me off like a jealous lover... And then there's the way
you look at him."

Mac bristled. "Vic's an overprotective worrywart, that's all."

"One who buys you jewelry?"

"Why not? I bought him a shirt and an earring the day before that."

"Really?"

Mac was starting to get a little annoyed at the innuendo. "Listen,
Cash. We are *not* lovers. We're just partners. That's *all* we
are." And all we'll ever be, he thought a little sadly.

And he knew why, too. After Michael, LiAnn and Claire, Mac didn't
want to take a chance on anything too serious, which was why he went
through such a steady string of dates. Vic, on the other hand, was
*not* the type for casual sex, Moorcock to the contrary. But if he
ever got the chance at a night, no strings attached, Mac certainly
wouldn't turn it down.

Not waiting for Cash's response, Mac picked up his drink and headed
back to the table where Vic and LiAnn were waiting, praying that
Cash wouldn't press the subject, although he figured he didn't have
much hope of that. He could feel Cash's amusement as the man
followed him.

It was going to be a long night.

>>>~~~<<<

It ended up being just as long as he'd feared. Vic finally loosened
up enough to chat with Cash, even getting a little friendly with the
man. That made Mac more than a bit uncomfortable, especially since
Cash's side of the conversation was laced with subtle innuendo that
went right over Vic's head, although not LiAnn's, going by the
slight smirk on her face.

Mac had made fun of Vic in the past for being unsophisticated, but
tonight he was glad for it. If Vic had any idea of the undercurrents
in the conversation, Mac would be glowing red as if he were sun-
burnt. Besides, after the high-class world he'd grown up in Hong
Kong, Vic's uncomplicated personality was a breath of fresh air. You
didn't have to dig through layers of false faces to find the real
man. Everything was out in the open.

Not that he was *stupid*, of course. When it came to work, Vic was a
damn good investigator. Better than Mac, in fact. Mac knew he had a
tendency to be too easily distracted, especially by a pretty face or
great ass. Vic had only made that mistake once that Mac could
remember, and he'd made up for it in the end.

That focus on the job was why Vic was the first one to notice that
LiAnn was missing. After the report that Marcus's goons had been
captured, Mac had started to relax. He assumed that even though
Marcus was still on the lam, everything was as good as over. Vic's
comment brought that assumption to a crashing end.

Marcus had LiAnn. He wasn't sure why, but he knew it was true.
Cursing himself for a fool, Mac double-checked the ladies room, then
headed for the door to the back alley. Cash seemed confident in the
security system, but Mac knew from personal experience just how easy
a fire alarm was to disable.

Vic tried to keep him quiet, but Mac was past caring about stealth.
He just wanted it to be over. "LiAnn!"

"Right over here," said the voice he was dreading.

Marcus stepped out from behind one of the dumpsters with an
unresisting LiAnn by the throat, effortlessly supporting her weight.
The bruise on her temple explained why she looked so dazed.

Marcus no longer looked like he'd stepped off the pages of GQ. He
was still wearing the same clothes he'd had on the last time Mac had
seen him. They were badly rumpled now and his hair hung lank. But
his eyes glittered with a manic silver light and Mac could see a
hint of fangs when his lips drew back in a sneer. For a more mundane
threat, he had a gun pointed at them.

"Took you long enough," the Brujah said. "I was about to just kill
her and leave." His lips drifted towards her throat and Mac's breath
caught.

"Don't be a fool, Marcus," Cash said, trying to move past Mac to
shield him. Mac wasn't interested in cooperating. It was his fault
that LiAnn was in this mess. "You're just digging yourself in
deeper. This isn't going to change anything."

The gun wavered, then lowered. "No, I suppose it won't." Mac tensed.
It wasn't going to be that easy. It never was.

Then suddenly the gun was pointed straight at him. Over the roar of
his pulse, he heard Marcus say, "But at least I won't go alone."

His finger tightened on the trigger, oh so slowly. It was like the
entire world slowed down as Mac waited for the bullet that was going
to end his life.

Mac froze, but neither Cash nor Vic did. Cash threw himself at
Marcus, while a shouting Vic jumped in front of Mac.

The echo of the gunshot was obscenely loud in the narrow space.

Dimly, Mac heard snarling and the sound of flesh tearing as Cash
literally ripped Marcus to shreds. LiAnn hit her head again on the
edge of the dumpster as she fell away from Marcus and lay
unconscious on the ground.

But Mac noticed all that only peripherally. His attention was
focused on Vic. His partner collapsed to the ground, a gut wound
pouring out blood. You didn't need to be a doctor to know that even
a hospital probably couldn't save him at that moment.

"Mac..." Vic's eyes drifted shut. His face was a pasty white as the
blood drained away, pooling beneath him on the ground.

"Vic? Vic!" Mac moved to his side, pressing a hand to the wound to
try and slow the bleeding, even though he knew it was pointless.
Vic's breathing already sounded with a death rattle.

"Mac?"

Mac looked up at Cash's worried face and hope flared as he saw the
man's fangs, fully extended. He reached up with a bloody hand to
grab the man's sleeve. "Help him," he begged.

"I... can't."

"You're the only one who can," Mac pressed desperately.

Cash wavered. "The rules say Julian has to okay..." He cut off,
recognizing the truth: Vic wouldn't last that long.

"Please," Mac said, begging now. He was sure that there were all
sorts of logical arguments he could make for why Cash should Embrace
Vic, but none of them were coming to mind. All that mattered was
that he didn't want his partner to die. Especially not because of
*him*.

Cash took a deep breath, then gestured him to move out of the way.
As Mac scrambled back, the Gangrel took his place, lifting Vic's
head into his lap. "Vic. Vic!"

The dying man's eyes fluttered open again. They were dim, no longer
their usual brilliant green, but they were aware.

"Vic, I can save your life, but only if you become like me. Are you
willing to accept that price?" Mac wanted to yell at him to get on
with it, but somehow he knew that Cash wasn't going to do anything
without Vic's consent.

Vic stared up at him, and Mac knew what he was seeing. Cash's eyes
were glowing with an eerie light, his bloodied lips were drawn back
to display his fangs. There was no mistaking what he was. Vic's eyes
widened and what little breath he had left came in a gasp.

For a long moment he said nothing, while Mac's heart pounded.
Finally his eyes shut. "Yes," was the barely audible reply. Mac
slumped against the brick wall in relief.

Cash bent his head and Mac watched in fascination as the man's fangs
sank into Vic's neck. Then Cash's lips sealed around the entry and
his throat muscles went to work as he started to suck powerfully.

For nearly a minute, that was all that happened. The blood flowing
from the stomach wound slowed, then stopped. Vic's breathing paused,
restarted, then stopped altogether. Mac whimpered low in his throat.

Then Cash pulled back and raised his hand. His other hand came up,
talons extended, and he cut open his wrist. As soon as the blood
started to well, he pressed his wrist to Vic's lips and started
talking in a low, hypnotic tone.

"You have to drink if you really want this. If you don't, you will
die the true death. It's up to you now. It's your choice and yours
alone."

Behind him, LiAnn groaned and sat up. Her eyes went wide as she took
in the tableau in front of her. Mac ignored her, his eyes focused on
the two men.

Suddenly, Vic's throat flexed once, then a second time. Mac almost
cried in relief as the man started to drink. Already, a flush of
color was returning to his face.

Just then, the door to the alley flew open and Lillie rushed out,
followed closely by several armed men. Two of them were friends of
Cash that he had met at the dance club, Mac was relieved to note.

Not pulling his wrist from Vic's greedily sucking mouth, Cash
twisted in place to look at the newcomers. "Get a car," he ordered
one of his friends and the man nodded before disappearing back
inside. "Marcus is over there, what's left of him," Cash told Lillie.
"The body needs to be disposed of. Tell Julian and Toronto that
we're going to the estate. They can meet us there." He looked down
at Vic and sighed. "They can decide what will happen to us then."

Lillie nodded sadly and went back inside, pausing only long enough
to squeeze Mac's shoulder reassuringly. Now that the immediate
danger to Vic was over, he was remembering what Cash had told him
about Zane and the penalties for Embracing without permission. He
prayed that the relationship between Julian and Cash -- not to
mention the circumstances -- would convince the Prince to be lenient.
Otherwise both Vic *and* Cash could be dead before sunrise.

At the end of the alley, a car door slammed. Two of Cash's Gangrels
picked Vic up and carried him to the waiting car. Finally paying
attention to his *other* partner, Mac helped LiAnn to her feet and
half-carried her down the alley. The car was just barely large
enough to hold them all, with LiAnn half in his lap and Vic leaning
against Cash, still not quite conscious, in the back seat and the
two Gangrel in the front.

Mac slumped against the back of the seat, suddenly beyond exhausted.
The world had just tilted on its axis and he didn't have a clue what
happened next. He was probably in shock, he knew. He'd nearly been
killed and he was now sticky with Vic's blood. A quick glance over
let him see the wound still showing through the gaping hole in Vic's
shirt, but as he watched, the edges were starting to pull together.

Vic moaned faintly, and Cash held his bleeding wrist for the man to
suckle at again. "It's going to be all right," the Gangrel
whispered, and Mac wondered who he was trying to reassure: Vic, Mac
or himself.

The car pulled into traffic and Mac closed his eyes, the lids too
heavy to keep open any longer.

>>>~~~<<<

Mac woke with a start as the car came to a stop in front of a large
mansion. It was a beautiful building, practically screaming "money,"
but Mac barely glanced at it as they maneuvered Vic and LiAnn up the
front steps.

Once inside, Cash gestured for Mac and LiAnn to go into the library
just off the main foyer while he and the others took Vic upstairs.
Mac wanted to protest, but LiAnn still had the glazed look of
someone with a concussion or worse. She needed to sit down quickly
and she couldn't be left alone. Mac let the rational part of his
mind take over and did as he was told. He trusted Cash to look after
Vic, after all.

Really, he did.

About ten minutes later, he heard a car pull up outside. A moment
after that, the front door opened and he heard Julian's voice. Mac
closed his eyes and tried to mentally prepare himself for what would
happen next. It was 'make or break' time.

Julian came into the study, the Director right on his heels. "I saw
Marcus," he said bluntly. "Where's Cash?"

"Upstairs with Vic."

"What happened?" Julian seemed calm but determined. Mac looked past
him to the Director, but her expression was impossible to read. He
took a deep breath and started from the moment they'd discovered
that LiAnn was missing.

He left out nothing, including his own insistence on rushing out
into the alley to confront Marcus -- a foolish decision, he knew.
The only reason he was still alive was because Vic had taken a
bullet for him. Vic had nearly *died* to save him.

Then he explained how he had begged Cash to Embrace Vic, doing his
best to take all the blame. Julian just snorted.

"No one *makes* Cash do anything," he said, one corner of his mouth
quirking up into a half-smile; the most promising sign so far. Then
the amused smile disappeared. "However, this was not a good decision.

"San Francisco is in a delicate state just now. Since Eddie Fiori
died, the Brujah have been pushing. They say I show blatant
favoritism to the other clans. If I allow Cash to get away with
increasing the Gangrel ranks without permission at the same time
that the Brujah lose four..."

"He hasn't." Everyone's attention turned to the Director. "Victor is
*mine*. I did not bring him with me just to lose him to you. When we
leave in three days, he leaves with us."

Julian's eyebrows went up. "You want to put a fledgling on a plane
that soon after his Embrace? No Kindred learns control *that* fast."

"He will," she said confidently. "He won't have any other choice.
LiAnn?"

The oriental looked up obediently, but there was still little
comprehension in her eyes. In the light of the study, her pupils
could be seen to be overly large and mismatched in size. The
Director sighed. "She needs medical attention."

Julian nodded. "Daedelus is well-trained in mortal medicine. He'll
be here shortly."

"Good. Take care of her. Mac, come with me."

Mac got to his feet and followed her out into the foyer and then up
the stairs. She unerringly led them to a door that led to a richly
decorated bedroom. There they found Vic lying on the bed, fully
awake now. Cash sat next to him, talking quietly, but quickly.

Vic was undressed, his clothes no doubt already disposed of. They'd
been too soaked with blood, even without the bullet hole, to be
worth saving. Mac stared in fascination at the man's stomach. While
the scars from the fatal wound could still be seen clearly, it was
completely closed and those scars were already starting to fade.

Cash got to his feet as soon as they entered. He half-bowed to the
Director in a gesture of respect, then stood still, waiting for her
to speak. She stared at him coldly for a moment. "Julian is waiting
for you downstairs," she finally said, stepping aside so that he
could leave. Taking the hint, he patted Vic's hand, then left the
room, pausing only long enough to brush his lips against Mac's
cheek. His breath stank of blood and Mac shivered.

Once he was gone, she turned her attention to Vic, who had struggled
up into a seated position. "Now, this is a fine mess," she said,
sounding exasperated. The conversation in the study had raised Mac's
spirits a bit, but now they plummeted again.

"I mean, really, Victor," she continued. "Couldn't you have settled
for knocking him to the ground? Or *letting* him take the bullet he
was so obviously inviting?" Mac winced at the glare she sent his
way. He was going to pay for this; he knew it. "You really need to
outgrow these foolish heroics."

"It was the only thing I could come up with at the moment," Vic said
weakly.

The Director sighed. "Unfortunately, I believe you. However, this
creates a mess that I now have to deal with. I'm sure you've already
started to feel the Hunger?" He nodded. "Of course you have.
Controlling the Hunger is the first thing any new fledgling must
learn. Unfortunately, you don't have much time to do so. You cannot
stay in San Francisco for a number of reasons, chief of which is
that you belong to *me*. But you also cannot be allowed out in
public until you can control yourself. Therefore, I am going to give
you a little incentive to learn that control very quickly."

She gestured Mac over and he obeyed, albeit somewhat reluctantly.
"Mac will be staying in here with you. He will be your only source
of blood."

"I won't..." Vic started to say, but she cut him off.

"Don't even think about refusing to feed. Either you would die, if
you could restrain yourself completely -- in which case I will
simply kill Mac -- or you would finally lose control of your Hunger
and kill him in a frenzy -- in which case I will kill *you*. You
will learn to feed only as much as you need to or else."

Her tone was so cold that neither of them could doubt her
determination; she would do exactly as she said.

"You have two days until the party," she said once her words had
sunk in. "You need will to be able to behave yourself in public by
then. *I* think you can do it. Don't disappoint me."

She turned to leave and glanced at Mac. "I'll have breakfast sent
up after sunrise."

"Assuming I'm still alive to eat it?" Mac asked wryly.

"Have faith, Mr. Ramsey! You don't really think he'd kill you after
the lengths he went to keep you alive?"

She smiled and closed the door behind herself. In the silence of the
room, the sound of the key turning in the lock was almost deafening.

Mac sighed and went to sit on the end of the bed. Immediately, Vic
scooted over until he was as far from Mac as he could get without
actually falling *out* of the bed. Mac snickered.

"What's so damn funny?" Vic snapped at him.

"You. You're acting like a virgin on her wedding night. Relax." Mac
moved closer and this time Vic held his ground.

"Like hell. Doesn't it bother you that the Director just served you
up to me like a blue plate special?"

Mac shrugged. "Why should it? After all, it *is* my fault you're in
this mess in the first place. If someone has to pay the price, it
might as well be me."

That got Vic's attention and he moved closer. "Don't be an idiot.
She was right. There were any number of things I could have done
that would have left both of us without a scratch. Instead, I got
myself shot. *That* is why you're here, facing near certain death
for the second time tonight."

He looked so morose and penitent that Mac couldn't help laughing and
once he started, he couldn't stop. Hysteria, the last rational bit
of his brain told him helpfully. Mixed with a touch of shock, no
doubt.

Finally, he brushed the tears from his eyes and found Vic staring at
him with a shocked expression on his face. "All right," he gasped.
"Let's just say we're both to blame and leave it at that. It just
means that we *both* have to fix it."

Vic shook his head. His green eyes now had a silver sheen that
reminded Mac of something, but he couldn't remember what. "I don't
think I can do this, Mac."

Mac reached out and grabbed Vic's shoulder. "You don't have any
choice! Cash offered you this chance -- sure, because I begged him
to -- and you said yes. Now you learn to do this or we *both* die."

"Maybe if I..."

Mac shook his head, stopping Vic before he could continue. He could
guess what the man was going to suggest. "You heard her. The longer
you wait, the worse this Hunger gets and the less you're able to
control it. She should know."

Vic stared at him. "This is what you wouldn't talk about last night,
isn't it? The explanation too weird to be believed."

Mac nodded. "And would you have believed me if I told you that our
boss was a vampire?"

"No, I suppose not. The idea occurred to me briefly, but I rejected
it as too ridiculous to be real. And the meetings? Can you tell me
about them now?"

"Well, I don't know much," Mac said. He knew they were both just
delaying the inevitable, but he was a little nervous about it too,
so he didn't object. "Cash told me that the Kindred -- that's what
they call themselves, not vampires -- are organized kinda like
feudal times. All the Kindred in a city are headed by a Prince. This
was a meeting between Princes to organize cooperation. Things like
letting Kindred move from city to city when they attract notice and
the like."

"So the Director isn't just a vampire, she's the chief vampire for
Toronto?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Why am I not surprised?" Vic muttered to himself. Then he licked
his lips and swallowed convulsively. His eyes, when they met Mac's,
were almost completely silver and starting to glaze over with
hunger. Mac could see his fangs, fully dropped into place. "Mac..."

Obviously, the time for talk was over. Mac shivered and shrugged out
of his jacket, then reached down to unbutton his shirt cuff. "Cash
said it was easiest to control the feeding through the wrist," he
said in a reasonably steady tone, trying for an instructional voice.
It was difficult enough. He didn't want to make it any harder on his
partner.

He was both terrified and aroused, though. Cash had a lot more
experience at this, but his body could still remember how the man's
Kiss had felt. He wondered if it would be the same with Vic.

He held out his wrist to Vic. "He licked it first and it kind of
deadened the skin," he said. Vic's fingers curved around his
forearm, slightly cooler than normal, and he raised Mac's wrist to
his lips. Hesitantly, he stuck out his tongue and lapped at the
delicate skin over the big vein there. Mac's breath caught at the
sensuous rasp.

"Okay. Um. I guess you just bite. But only take a couple swallows
and stop, okay? It'll probably be easier to control if we do lots of
little... um... snacks, not a full feeding." He hoped.

Vic bared his new fangs, hesitated, then sank them in.

The initial bite was more painful than it had been with Cash, but
with the first swallow, Mac's eyes rolled back in his head. Like
before, the sensations went straight to his groin and he hoped that
Vic could control himself, since he didn't think he'd be able to
stop the man.

But if he couldn't, at least Mac would die enjoying it.

Go to Part Four