San Francisco Meetings by Lianne Burwell Carpe Noctem Book One Chapter Eight he 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 faÁade 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. 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#151;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#151;" "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 1999 Book II: Dancing on Wire lburwell@adan.kingston.net

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