Story Six: Cities of Angels

I have thought about this too long and too hard, but the time has finally come. Things have to happen, changes need to be made. For all that I preach and believe, I of all people have found myself stagnant and predictable. No more. Laziness and arrogance must be replaced by energy and competence; now is the time and place for this to occur. Now when my enemies least expect it.

I am Sebastian Duvalier. I am considered little more than an orphan among the institutions of mages, all of us hidden underneath the ramparts of society: mages split into factions, the major players of whom are the Technocracy and the Traditions. The Technocratic Union represents magick through technology, a theory underpinning mistaken theories and hypocrisy. The Traditions, while on the right track, are little better as far as the road to Ascension (a.k.a. perfection, the ultimate state of attainment) goes. The Traditionalists are an arrogant, infighting, stubborn, lethargic, stagnant group, refusing to update themselves to today’s ways and mores. Given, these are stereotypical views, but all too often true. There are also the Nephandi, pure evil corrupters, and the Marauders, insane chaos mages. Most orphans are usually aligned with the Traditions. I can’t say I blame them. No one intentionally is insane and most shy away from pure evil; being part of the ‘system’ doesn’t apply to most loners and rogues either. That leaves you with the Traditions. Of course, they also happen to be the only one of the quatrains that won’t fry your ass for flying solo.

That’s where I come in. I don’t consider myself an orphan any more, no matter what the upper echelons of the Traditions think. Although, I suspect that now they’re a little wiser than to just ignore me, no matter what category I fall into. There are several of what we call crafts, which are smaller, unofficial Traditions, that hang with the big boys. The largest one of these is called the Hollow Ones: a bitter, cynical group, full of goth and vinegar. I lead the loudest one of these: the Faulknarians. What’s that all about? I took the name from the author, William Faulkner. The man was a genius (he even won the Pulitzer prize for literature). He was innovative, breaking (or rather demolishing) all the old molds of literary schools, and still succeeded. He influenced countless other authors in generations to come and he always had faith and respect in and for himself. In a sense too, hidden in the layers of his work was a message, a code of ethos that he believed in and purported to others. Take that same description and apply it to my craft; that’s how I’d like to think of us anyway. Regardless, it’s time for us to stop pissing on ourselves and zip up our fly, so to speak. We have to start paying attention. It is time to start the chess game. Of course, the first thing to do is to put the pieces on the board.

 

*       *       *

 

As I looked out of the passenger window from my crowded coach-class seat, I saw something I never had the pleasure of seeing before: Los Angeles, The City of Angels. Clear of smog, I could see the tall buildings reaching skyward, stretching towards the heavens. Who I had come to see wasn’t part of all that downtown chaos, but off to the northwest a little—still part of Los Angeles proper, though. Santa Monica is where I was heading. The buildings started to get bigger and bigger; I only had a short time before I would disembark, head for the rental counter, and then towards their beachfront compound. Well, I’d stop at the real estate offices first. Then I would take care of the rest of my business.

I quietly snuckinto the compound, approaching the nearest to the bluff first. That should be the right door. She'd be surprised, but then again, I was not supposed to be able to find them. They found you.

The door opened and a beautiful blonde stood there; her eyes wide as she immediately flashed a smile. “Sebastian!” She threw a big hug around me and kissed my cheek. I couldn’t help but return the smile and her hold. After a moment, she pulled away from me, and tugged me in through the door, holding onto my hand. “Sebastian, what a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“Ah’m actually here on a bit a business.”

Her energy turned into a pouty expression. “Aw. And I thought you might have flown all the way out here to see me.”

“However," I said, shaking my finger at her, "you are da first I seen.”

“Oh really? Ready to take me up on my offer yet?” she said, crawling closer to me, running her hands down my shoulders and arms.

"Ah was more curious if you was willing to take me up on mah offer,” I said, returning her lustful gaze with an inquisitive one. Yet, even as her hands continued to rove, I could feel her empathic massages: tricks I had already seen, although this time she was too clumsy to prelude it all with conversation. She assumed that I was closer to giving in than I was, probably thinking of the last time where she almost did seduce me. Although, I have to admit, it is hard saying no to a girl who is all over you in the first place, then throw in the fact that she’s more beautiful than any girl you’ve ever seen, and then throw in the fact that she has Mind magick to fuck with you. It was almost impossible.

“Come on, Sebastian," she said. "You know you want it.” She pulled me deeper into her apartment now.

“Perhaps. But Ah can’t say right now’s da time for all dis.”

“Maybe we could meet in the middle.” She smiled, somehow pulling me towards a room behind her, and still managing to move her face closer to mine. “You give your body to me and I’ll give my mind to you. You fuck me, and I’ll become a Faulknarian.”

Every sense inside of me screamed at me to take her offer: her irresistible smile, her tugging at my subconscious, her goading, her promises, her touches. Inevitably, my own head moved forward, leaning in to kiss her. Yet, at the last moment I opened my eyes and hesitated. Her own eyes were closed, lips pursed; it was a sight almost impossible to resist. Fuck. “Lotus,” I murmured, only inches away.

Lee’s eyes slowly opened and she stared me down across the depth of immeasurable closeness: “I heard she was dead.”

Instinctively, I pulled away, but she held me tight. “Dead, but not gone," I said.

“How much longer can you possibly use her as an excuse? Besides, even if she weren’t dead, I wouldn’t tell and she’d never know. And don’t say you would,” she cut me off. “Because you wouldn’t and you’d love it.”

Her pull was insatiable, the attraction undeniable. My lips met hers. We both would get what we wanted. What was wrong with that? In fact, I think the two of us would be satisfied on both accounts. The kiss was long and electric. We’d shared one kiss before, months ago, but I had pulled away and ran. That was before Lotus was dead. She was dead, wasn’t she? Regardless, staying with one woman wasn’t my style; I don’t know why I had settled with her. Was I afraid of losing a friend and student? Was that the wrong reason? Wasn’t change what this mission was all about?

Before I know it, we were in her bedroom and she had taken my jacket off. She was unbuttoning my shirt when I stopped her. As I grasped her wrists, she looked up at me in surprise, then tilted her head, as if to say not again. I could only slowly nod.

“What now, Sebastian?”

“Not like dis.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If Ah ’m gonna have sex wit you, it’s gotta be on an equal plane, where we both want it an’ both exact an equal power-relation on de other. Not like dis. Not as a bargainin’ chip.”

Lee flopped onto the bed. “I don’t know whether to respect you or shoot you.”

I sat next to her and shrugged.

“Can’t we do it now, now that you’ve said that?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“You’re really leaving me hanging.”

“Like Ah ’m not?" I said. "Dis may hurt later.”

“I don’t want to feel like that,” Lee said looking up.

“Neither do Ah.”

She shrugged at me.

“You should call de other," I said.. "Dat’s why Ah stopped to see you first. So you could summon them telepathically.”

“How romantic.”

“Sorry,” I said.

Lee propped herself on her elbows. “We could always masturbate in front of each other. Would that represent an equal power relation?”

“You should call dem in a few minutes,” I suggested.

 

Handshakes and hellos aside, the entire A-Team was assembled in one of the guest houses soon thereafter. Lee Rossdale and I were already there, of course. Joining us was Nathaniel Dane, master of disguise, infiltration, and team leader; he was a Verbena. It was also good to see the old Ecstatic again, Damon Nevard: a Spirit specialist, who was a man after my own heart. Cortland O’Connell, the Crusades-like Celestial Chorus member, and Carr Stanton, computer hacker and spy, a Virtual Adept protégé, had just arrived. The five-member cabal was known as the A-Team, due to who they were and how you found them. They were rogues from Tradition society, notorious mercenaries. Yet half of their business came from the Traditions. They could be found on one of the many A-Team webpages and they first approached you looking like members of the A-Team, thanks to Nate’s Life magick. I’d met up with them a while ago. We’d run a few missions before they felt their wanderlust kicked in. Previous to our meeting, their old leader had died and Nate was still uncomfortable with the role. I taught him a few tricks of the trade and he had felt a little more confident. More importantly, everyone else was more confident in him. I guess I didn’t mention that on top of trying to be a leader, I’ve found myself with a variety of students to teach. They keep learning, so I guess I’m not half bad.

“So what’s up?” Nate asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I kept catching Carr winking at Lee and then looking at me. She just shot him dirty looks. Damon and Cortland pretend not to notice, too.

“Ah jus’ doin’ some travelin’, reestablishin’ my bases of information, seein’ allies, makin’ sure dey’re all set, and at da same time settin’ up safehouses in diff’rent parts a da country.” Luckily, they were used to my thick Cajun accept, because I hated explaining myself twice.

“Wow,” Carr said. “Cool.”

I’m also resettin’ my own base of operations ta be more low-key. I played too high a profile of a game ta be true ta who I am.”

“But, why come here?” Damon asked.

“I think I know,” Carr cracked.

“Carr!” Nate snapped.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Ah did come here in large part ta see Lee.”

“I knew it,” Carr said

“Not ta fuck her, Carr. To figure out whether or not she was willin’ to join mah craft, da Faulknarians.”

Cortland and Nathan looked surprised.

“Really,” Damon answered stoicly.

“Did you?” Carr asked.

“Yes.” After she spoke, they all looked at her for a moment before shaking their heads in acceptance. “It only made sense,” she answered. “Maybe now I’ll have some say in things. In bigger things, I mean.”

“Uh-huh," I said, nodding. "Ah also needed ta tell you all dat Ahcut a deal a sorts wit da Council a Nine.”

Damon alone looked to Lee. The rest looked surprised. I could only laugh.

“Ah, don’t tink dat we trust each other. Dey jus’ had a certain problem dey needed cleaned up, and le’s jus’ say dat I was chosen ta do it.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nate asked me.

“No. But Ah got one hell of a lot outta dis deal, so who’s complainin’?”

“Isn’t that like selling out?” Car asked.

“Maybe. But tink. Now I got da access and da resources to make da Faulknarians have a real impact on Tradition society.”

“Good luck,” Cortland said. “You know we’re behind you.”

“An' Ah ’m behind you,” I said. “Ah jus’ rented a condo near dis place. An’ if you ever need me, jus’ contact me at this web address.” I gave a small card to Nathan. Damon looked over his shoulder at it.

“www-dot-dee-ef-dot-com-slash-Athens-slash-Troy-slash-9633-slash-en-ee-double-u-oh-are-el-dash-el-eye-ti-underscore-pee-ee-en-dee-are-dot-ach-ti-em-el?”

“Yeah. It’s low-key and hard to find. If you click on da web address, it will say under construction. If you enter, it will offer a short message about its non-completion, an’ den it will have an e-mail address with a bogus name (an account dat is real, but will never be answered, that is). Go back to the original page and at the very bottom center is a tiny icon. If you click on it, it will loop the same message. If you click on it again, it will loop again. If you click on it a third time, it will transfer you to www-dot-dee-ef-dot-com-slash-Athens-slash-Troy-slash-9633-slash-faulknarian-dot-index-dot-html. You’ll need a password to go any farther.”

“What’s the password?” Carr asked.

“Seraphim," I said. :Named after the host of angels.”

“Right. Clever,” Carr mused.

“Ah try.”

“This will be the only way to contact you?” Cortland asked.

“Yes.”

“And you know how to contact us,” Nate said.

“Yes. At www-dot-geocities-dot-com-slash-CityofAngels-slash-underground-slash-12345-slash-index-dot-html?”

Nate nodded.

“When did you get a place here?” Damon asked.

“Just dis mornin’. Like Ah said, Ah’m settin’ up bases a operations ta be more mobile. Being near friends is even better.”

“Glad to hear from you again,” Cortland said. So what have you been up to?”

Unconsciously I glanced at Lee quickly. “Well, quite a bit. Got some time?”

“Sure,” Cortland said.

“Good. Where ta start? Well, you heard a King Arthur, right?”

 

*       *       *

 

Moving through the rain of the dirty Milwaukie streets, I walked away from the rental car and towards a medium-sized house. It looked run-down and plain from the outside, but that was the idea. It was an anti-theft device in this mid-sized suburban town; if it didn’t look interesting, who would give it another thought? It was the inside that counted, though. That’s where you lived.

I rang the doorbell and waited. It wasn’t long before a familiar face opened the door.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here?”

“Good ta see you too.”

“No, come in. I mean what brings you here?”

“Jus’ wrappin’ up loose ends, finalizin’ changes,” I said.

“What kind of changes?” Dylan showed me into his house. “I’m sorry. Do you want a drink?”

“Have any bourbon?”

Dylan nodded. "Maker's Mark okay:?"

“I’d love some.”

“Okay.”

Dylan ran off into the other room to get the drinks and I sat down on his couch. Dylan was once a mage I had lived and fought with, conquering anyone who opposed us, saving the world, and all that kind of stuff. Dylan had since retired to keep his kid out of the line of fire. Nothing was more important to him than little Iris and I certainly couldn’t change that. As far as I knew he was hanging out with his ex-wives’ Celestial Chorus mates.

Dylan brought back two glasses on the rocks, handing one to me.

“So what brings you here, Sebastian?”

“Jus’ makin’ sure you’re set and have everything you need.”

“You came here all the way for that?”

“Not just.”

“Everything’s fine. The house you set me up with is perfect and it’s well loaded. The account is great too. Thanks.”

“It’s da least Ahcould do," I said. "It’s not like Ah earned da money. Jus’ dumb luck an’ a little magick.”

“More like one created the other, isn’t it?” Dylan said smiling,

“Exactly. So how’s Iris?”

“Good.”

“Good," I said. "I know she means a lot to you.”

Dylan shook his head.

“So how are da Choisters?”

“They’re good. They’re good for me.”

“So maybe you should become one of dem.”

“No." Dylan shook his head as he swallowed a sip of bourbon. "It just doesn’t fit. They’ve helped me out, but the philosophy’s all wrong. You and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye on things, but even you have better ideas. I mean, I don’t agree with all of them, but certainly more with yours than any other Tradition or craft.”

“Well, dat’s close ta da other ting. Ah’m goin’ underground a bit.”

“What do you mean?” Dylan asked.

“Ah forgot who Ah was. Ah’m goin’ home.”

“To New Orleans?”

I didn't say anything for a moment, staring down into my drink. “Metaphorically,” I said finally, softly.

“Oh.”

“Here’s my web address,” I said, telling him how to get to it right. “Don’ ever write da access path or code down, jus’ remember.”

“Okay.”

“Here’s my mobile phone number.”

“You changed it?”

“Yeah. Registered under a bogus name too. Erased the old files.”

“What about the home number?” Dylan asked.

“Movin’.”

“Out of the mansion?”

“Yup. I’s not me. Besides too many people know ‘bout it,” I said, pausing briefly before drinking.

“Damn.”

“Life changes, Mr. Brindamour. Ah gotta ‘member to keep changin’ too, or Ah’ll be ground to dust.”

“Bravo.”

We stared at each other across the room and he smiled at me as we sipped.

“It’s about time you woke up out of your hubris-dream,” he said.

I laughed. “Uh-huh.”

 

*       *       *

 

“You want to hand everything overto me?” Fernando ask,ed.

“Sort of.” I looked across the desk at my office in the Duvalier Foundation Building, in downtown Detroit. “Ah want da Duvalier Foundation to change its name to da Detroit Foundation.”

“Rather bland name.”

“If you can tink of a better one, do it. But Ah want it ta look like Ah sold it. Second of all. Ah want it to look like someone bought out all of my businesses.”

“I don’t get it," Fernando said. "Your businesses are very successful. Your business strategies have been solid. Why get out?”

I leaned over and eyed Fernando. “You don’t quite get it. Ah’m not entirely gettin’ out. Ah’m just gettin' outta active duty. That, my friend, Ah ’m turning over ta you.”

“Who’s buying then?”

“A bogus buyer.”

“For what reason?” Fernando asked.

“To cover my involvement.”

“Why?”

“Fernando. You may not be a mage, but you understand what da Harbingers an’ I have been doin’.”

“Yes.”

“There are other businessmen or straight-out economic-terrorists who might want to get me dat way. Ah don’ wanna give dem such a convenient target.”

“You’re disappearing,” Fernando said.

“Exactly.”

“Da Foundation is yours; da comic book stores, da restaurant, da club, da music store, an’ the law firm. All yours. All you have ta do is give me a quarter of da cut.”

“You’re giving me three-fourths of what should be yours?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Sebastian. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I should be tanking you.”

“But what about these techno-mages you keep mentioning?”

“Worried?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t I be?” he said.

“Uh-huh.”

“There’s a way around that isn’t there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you suggesting I become one of you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“A brand new world.”

“A brave new world,” I said.

“I’ll have to think about it,” Fernando said.

 

Leander scolwed at me, arms folded, standing in front of the couch in the living room. Behind him, Siren sat on the couch, leaning forward. Devon was in the chair next to her, head in his hands. George and Kahn were standing behind the couch, leaning on it. I sat calmly across from all of them.

“You’re giving us the house?” Leander said.

“An’ Ah set up an account dat’s millions strong. It should enable you ta live comfortably for quite some time. An’ if y’all wanna streetfight for more money, dat’s your choice. Ah don’ care. Personally, Ah’d jus’ look ta Fernando to invest it for me. But you all have ta choose your own ways.”

“But you have so much to teach us still,” Siren said.

“Ah know dat. But George is a damn fine teacher. An’ Ah’ve come to a point where Ah have to disappear for a bit. My continued presence here only endangers you. What Ah have to deal wit, you’re not ready for.”

“What about me?” Devon asked, lifting his head. “I still look like a freak. Can’t you help me? I just want to be normal.”

I looked at Devon and shook my head. “Ah don’t know, Devon. Ahdon’t know. Ah’m trying to find answers, but nothing so far. You jus’ have to keep workin’ your own magick and confidence, and maybe someday you’ll find your own answers.”

“What about Lotus?” Leander’s question caught the whole room and silenced it. They all looked at me expectantly.

“I have even less of a clue,” I said honestly.

“What about you kid?” Siren asked.

“Ah don’t know," I said. All Ah know is dat she seems ta be dead, but isn’t decaying. The kid, he’s gone. Ah’m tryin’ ta find answers ta both, but i’s not as if Ah can jus’ make tings happen da way Ah want all da time. Ah try, an’ Ah think Ah can do everyting sometimes, but Ah’m jus’ one man in a big world. Ah’m doin’ all Ah can.”

“You have a lot to worry about too,” Devon said.

“Yeah, Dev, I do,” I replied.

“Are your actions helping you find peace?” George asked.

“Yes,” I said. “They are.”

“Is it true you gave all your businesses to Fernando?” Leander asked.

“For da most part. But Ah still have VIP privileges at the restaurant and da club. Besides, Ah have da keys to the comic book store at da mall, ta get to da node. No more suits for me, dough. Back ta da leather jacket.”

“Where are Chip and Martin going?” Siren asked.

“I don’t know about Martin, but Chip an’ Ah are getting houses next to each other under fake names. Small ones. Discreet ones. Fake bills ta fake men, anonymity through lies.”

“How will we get in touch with you? Leander asked.

“Either email or cell phone. Ah’ll explain.”

 

*       *       *

 

For some reason, the city has always reminded me of Batman’s Gotham City. Maybe it was that one building with the work up top that looked like a pair of wings. Rochester was the first city in the north that I’d ever spen tmuch time in. So much happened there in such a short time. So much there changed me forever. Rochester was where I committed to Lotus, where I met my first cabal of mages, where Katrina died. That was where it all began and ended and now is something all together different, yet somehow soaring back to what once was:pointedly cyclical rather than merely repetitive.

It was not easy to find him, but I do. I take him out to the bar around the corner and take a seat with the old werewolf, the first friend (other than the Harbingers) I had made since leaving New Orleans. I raised my glass and toasted the good Garou who like me had seen and done too much.

“To you Jesse,” I said.

“And to better futures,” he replied.

We drank.

“How is the master of his own craft?” he asked.

“Whoa. I don’ ‘member orderin’ sarcasm wit dis beer.”

“Ha. Same old?”

“No chance. Ah been doin’ a lot a tinkin’. Ain’t notin’ da same. Can’ pretend it is. Ah been severin’ all public ties ta money an' business. Ah be movin’ as well as settin’ up bases all 'cross da country. Meetin’ ole friends an' all dat.”

“Hunh," Jesse grunted. "Including little ole Rochester, eh?”

“Yeah. Got a place earlier. Quiet suburb called Webster?”

“I grew up there,” Jesse said.

“Really?” I said.

“Yup.”

“Hmmm.” We looked at our drinks for a moment. “Got any good stories?”

“Few new kids in town.”

“Tell me about dem.”

 

*       *       *

 

It’s been too long since I’ve been in the south, even if it is only Tampa. God knows what drove Rayne here all the way from Detroit. Never really got the full story on that. One day the girl is thinking of becoming a Faulknarian, the next she’s gone. Martin figured out where she went with some big hoopajou that he came up with though, so one plane ticket and a few hours later, here I am, continuing my trek.

Jesse said he knew a girl that moved to Tampa. I don’t know. It’s been a hell of a long time since I even gave a thought to this city. Ten hours west then south. So close. Any way. I’m out of practice, and I think I owe her one, so I decide to try my hand at not knocking.

I look around casually as I approach the door, pull the lockpicks from my jacket pocket, and set them tingling with a little Entropy magick: pushing probability in my favor. Within seconds, the door clicks open. I step forward silently and close the door behind me. I can hear music above, on the second floor, but I give a glance to the first floor quickly, to make sure it’s not a false lure. Satisfied, I creep up the steps, cringing as a few creak, but no one comes rushing out with a pistol, so I keep going. As I move forward, I start to hear a faint singing accompanying the music. Not very in tune.

I move into what appears to be Rayne’s bedroom. From an open door, I hear both the music and the singing. I also hear running water. Too perfect. I peek into the bathroom. Around the corner is a glass shower, one of the ones with the glass you can’t see through. But I can see a body in there—and hear the horrible voice to match. I have to stop myself from laughing; that would ruin the surprise. I lean over and steal the towel right next to the shower door and draw back to my spot around the corner. I do have to give it to her though. She’s got a great form. Hell I’d probably—the water stops. I smile. She runs the water off her body by running her hands over herself, pulling it out of her hair, wiping down her body. Not bad. Then her hand shoots out, looking for the towel. The music continues, unaccompanied, and I can hear her curse. She steps out of the shower looking for the towel and that’s when I turn the corner and toss it to her.

“Lookin’ for dis?”

Her jaw drops and so does the towel. She just stares in shock at me. I notice the first thing she does is look for my hands (which are folded over my chest). Does she think I’ve come to exact revenge for leaving? Her body looks even better out of that blurry glass. Not bad at all.

Finally she snaps out of it and picks up the towel, holding it over her front. “Sebastian? I, uh, I mean, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Ah bet. Ah figured it was only fair Ah return your own housewarmin’ hospitality.”

She doesn’t remember at first and only looks down at my hands again, before it clicks. “Right. Sebastian, I can explain. I, u– “

“Stop," I said. "It’s okay. Ah’m just here ta talk.”

“Okay,” Rayne said.

“Ah jus’ wanna know how you’re doing an’ what you’re up to." I shurgged. "I also came down here to buy a small house.”

“What?”

“Ah'll explain later. Why don’ you get dressed?” I take a last peek before leaving her alone and heading downstairs.

After telling her my story, Rayne feels at ease enough to tell me her story. It makes me wonder if I really do come off so abrasive, violent, and intimidating? Maybe those are flaws I should work on. I never meant to be that way.

“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” she said, hanging her head. “I got scared. After those assassins from the House of Helekar showed up, I realized I was in way over my head. You and Chip are one thing. You two are an amazing duo with your time-travel and, well, with his sword.”

“You don’ have to tell me dat Ah’m second-fiddle in combat ta Chip. Ah know.”

“Yeah. Well, even Martin with his robot, and Dylan seem to have their shit together. Those assassins almost got me, Sebastian. I’m not ready to die. I’m not experienced enough to be facing the things you guys are facing. I’m sorry. I got scared.”

“It’s all right, Rayne. We each have our own path ta follow. Ah’ve come ta realize dat Ah can’t force anyone ta follow mah path.”

“That’s just it, though. I think your ideas are great. Don’t forget, I’m the one that came to you. Your fight against the Council, your innovative ideas, I like them. I like them more than what I’ve heard from any other Tradition.”

“Well, regardin’ da Council . . . “

“I know, you told me. Maybe it is selling out a little bit, but it’s to a greater goal, right? Let me tell you, maybe I wasn’t ready for what was in Detroit, but down here I’ve been trying to acclimate myself to the mage community, and I’ve told each and everyone I’ve met that I’m a Faulknarian. No one knows what that is, so I tell them it’s the craft led by Duvalier and Zelinsky. They all seem to know you, you’re fucking notorious—they say some pretty fucked up shit about you too—but when I tell them that Chip is the reincarnation of King Arthur, they seem to take even more interest. I may have been scared, but I’m not ashamed, Sebastian.”

“You’ve probably done more down here wit your mouth den you could have done up north wit a hundred guns, Rayne. Ah’m proud. Tink of it dis way, maybe dis is your destiny, rather den being involved in fights. You came here because it was your time ta make dese tings happen.”

Rayne smiled at me and shook her head softly. “Thanks.”

“I only have one question," I said. "Why Tampa?”

Rayne looked up at me sheepishly. “Well, I’ve always been a fan of death metal. It’s a fairly international music, must of the good stuff comes from Sweden and Germany, but Tampa Bay is the capital of American death metal. I thought it’d be cool to come here.”

“Oh.”

After talking for a while more, I stood up and said that I had to leave. A flight to catch, one more person to see. One more safehouse to set up. Or rather to check on. I stood and gave Rayne a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She had done good.

 

*       *       *

 

I rolled into the nice downtown restaurant across from the marble state building with its big columns and looked around. The host looked at me as if I didn’t belong, and I guess with my black leather jacket, an old one at that, one I hadn’t seen in quite a bit, used and worn, a black t-shirt underneath, and baggy blue jeans, I didn’t fit in with the upscale crowd. The shaved head, earrings, long sideburns, hair on the chin, and consortium of rings probably didn’t help either.

He gave me a look and I just walked right past him, saying I had to meet someone. I knew he was watching me as I moved past him, to see if I really was. But he had nothing to worry about, because in fact I was. The patrons themselves gave me a disdainful look, but what did I care? What did I ever care about Southern gentility and manners? This is who I was, despite who I thought I had been. I had been seduced by the money and the power and thesimplicity which it brings. I hadn’t been real to who I was or what I was supposed to be doing.

Alone at a back table, I found a deathly pale woman. She was dressed in a white business suit and had long, black hair. I flashed her a smile and sat down opposite her. “I hope you don’ mind?”

“Not at all,” she said.

“I was hopin’ I could still catch you here,” I said as I sat down.

“So close, yet so far, eh, Sebastian?”

“I risk my life coming this close,” I said.

“You don’t wish to go home?” she asked.

“Some day. But not now. It was a risk enough to have an old friend check up on da buildin’ and sneak dis jacket out.”

“How is it?” she asked.

“Besides the trashing it took after I jetted, not bad. But da Brujah of New Orleans are probably lookin’ to get permission from da Prince a Baton Rouge ta continue deir bloodhunt here, even as we speak.”

“Yet Juliette does nothing,” she said, speaking of the former Primogen’s immortal consort and current Brujah Primogen of New Orleans.

“What can she do?” I asked.

Rebecca shrugs. She examines me. I can feel it. “You look the same and act the same as the impetuous youth you were the day I met you, but you are not he, are you?”

“No.”

“A period of gestation, perhaps?” she said.

“Talkin’ ta you sure is fun,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“You seem ta know more about me den I do,” I said.

“Perhaps I am just more observant. And patient.”

“So are you pleased?” I asked.

She cocked her head. “Satisfied.”

“Ah’ll try ta do better,” I said.

“You must," she said, baring her teeth ever so slightly. "If you want to survive.”

Ah’m tryin’ my hardest, Rebecca. Ah jus’ don’ always have da answers. Dere are too many problems an’ too many people ta please.”

“Then I suggest you slow down; take your problems one at a time,” she said.

I look at the ancient creature, perpetually young, across the table from me. She had a full entré before her, yet only sipped on the red liquid-filled goblet before her. “Enjoying your meal?”

“Just a small drink," she said. "Thirsty?”

“No thanks,” I said, knowing better.

She smiles at me. “So what did you expect from me, Sebastian?”

“Ah don’ know. Ah jus’ wanted ta say hello, Ah guess. It happened to be convenient so I could check on tings in da big easy.”

“Poor boy.”

“What?”

“If only you knew.”

“Huhh?”

“How quickly things and people disappear," she said. "You know what they say, don’t you? The best trick the devil ever pulled, was convincing the world he didn’t exist" She snapped her fingers. "And just like that, he was gone.”

I looked down for a second, tired from her heavy gaze, and looking up, she was no longer there. I turned behind me and stretched. Nothing. Nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly Correspondence alarms trigger as a couple of big, pale, thugs come through the front door. Looks like I’m not going to make my current connection. I need to get out of Baton Rouge. Crossing the Mississippi and heading for Port Allen looks like my best bet. We’ll see what happens from there. I guess I’ll have to steal a car. I’ll have to thank my avatar for advising me on coming here. Jerk.