History Part 2
I was born on the seventh day of the seventh month of 1967 deep in the bayous of Louisiana. I was named Velvet because when I was born my mother said I had a close matt of black hair that covered my head just like velvet. My mother, Mariana Caldarari, was a Hungarian emigrant who had moved to America when she was only 12 years old. Her family, like so many of my relatives, had left their traditional homeland to escape the rampany persecution that still took place in Europe against those of the Kalderash clan. My father, Camlo, was a third generation Dutch-American. When his Great Grandparents had first come to America at the turn of the century their last name, Vandenhoff, had been bastardized by the workers at Ellis Island. That was when we officially became the Van Hawks. But despite their heritage, both of my parents considered themselves Roma, the People of the Earth, and members of the Lupine tribe: they were gypsies.
My earliest memories were around the campfires of my family’s kumpania, filled with singing and dancing in the dark woods of Louisiana. I had three brothers and two sisters and we were all as dark and comely as our parents. Our existence was simple but pleasant; we traveled often around the state, met with other families of Romani and learned of the old ways as well as how to survive in the modern world. We learned to be suspicious of gadje, or outsiders, the art of bujo, how to tell fortunes, perform sleight of hand and escape tricks, and when to leave a city. However, we also learned 'honest' trades, metalworking, repairing engines, electronics and the like, all of which came from our ancestors' talents as smiths. We existed on the edges of normal society but we had nothing to complain about. When there was something we needed, we took it, and we were happy in our own way.
But once a year my siblings and I were herded up to a small town in Tennessee where we would be inspected by our ‘elders.’ My parents never told us what those stern, scarred men and women were looking for, but they never seemed to find it in any of us. Only my younger brother Peter ever caught the elder’s eye. One year, when he was only fifteen years old - I was still fifteen myself, we were so close in age - the elders took Peter away from the rest of us. I did not hear all of the conversation that took place in the tent next to ours, but I did hear one of the old crones tell my father that “the boy would breed true.” My mother wept for the next four nights and although I did not understand what happened for years to come, I recognized that we had lost my brother forever.
It was four years later when I next saw Peter at the wedding that had been arranged for him. He was a different man that day, tall and handsome but already weary and scarred like the elders. We had only a few hours together to speak in private as his bride to be prepared for the ceremony in her tent. He spoke of terrible things in those brief hours, of vile creatures that were half man, half beast, of corrupting forces that threatened our people and of a sacred duty that he had been charged with to keep the old ways safe. Even now when I think of the things that he said my blood runs cold and I will never forget the fear in his eyes - the eyes of a child in the body of a man - as we spent our last day together. After the ceremony was completed he and his young wife went into their own tent to consummate their vows. He left some time in the morning and after that day I would not see him again for many long months. Once or twice a year he would visit our camp to see Alexis for an evening, but he rarely spoke to us and by the next sunrise he would always be gone.
As was the custom, Alexis had come to live with our family after their marriage and I was glad for her company, for I was the only one of the children in my family who had yet to fulfill my betrothal. Although I had been promised in marriage when I was only two years old to a boy from another kumpania, my father had told me that my promised husband was a very important man among the Roma and was busy helping my brother's pack. I cared little one way or another, my parents needed help as they grew older and I was pleased to be able to offer it to them. Besides, I had no desire to be married off to a strange clan only to be used as breeding stock for those of ‘truer blood.’
Although I had always known of the darkness that existed beyond my family’s kumpania, my brother’s words had taken hold of me and settled in deeply. I grew depressed and wary of others while my work suffered. Several of my jobs ended poorly and I was almost arrested by the police more than once. Even my visions, which I had received since I first came of age, were clouded and difficult to interpret. In the end, I came home one evening only to find all of my belongings packed in a duffle bag in front of my family’s RV. A note pinned to the front said simply, “Go find yourself. We love you. Good luck.”
That night I set off on my own. At first I had thought that I might meet up with another kumpania, perhaps find another family to tour with throughout the southern states, but fate seemed to have other plans for me. I swindled and conned my way across the south, going through small towns and large ones alike, making connections with gadje who were useful and ripping off the ones who weren’t. Occasionally I headed north or to the west coast, but never for very long. The south was home for me and always would be.
For years I wandered on my own, content with one-night stands, brief stays in small towns and jobs that rarely lasted more than a month or two. But it was in a small town in eastern Louisiana where I met the man who would change my life by becoming the father of my own child. His name was Sean, but he went by the nickname of Spider and he claimed to be little more than a salesman going door-to-door peddling encyclopedias. I’m sure that I didn’t buy into his story entirely, but he could spin a tale with the practiced ease of a hustler and everything about him felt comfortable. Dark haired and lean, with one green eye and one brown one, I gravitated towards him like the sun, never able to take my gaze off of him as we spoke. For a few days we spent our time making love in his hotel room before I would go off to my job in a nearby body shop. In the evening he’d come back to the bar we’d first met up in, we’d have a few drinks and repeat the process again. Part of me hoped that he was Romani, but I had no proof that he was anything other than a talented, silver-tongued gadje. At the end of the week he left town, having finished his job there, and I never saw him again. Two months later I found out that I was pregnant and in my heart I knew he had to be the father.
I was nervous and scared, but happy as well, even though I knew that this would be the final blow to cast me out of my family’s good graces. A child that was not pure-blooded would be seen as unclean, a half-breed who would be unwelcome among my people. But still I knew that I had to tell them and so I made my way back to New Orleans to hunt down my kumpania.
The meeting with my family did not go so well. My parents both looked older, but well, and all of my brothers and sisters had been successfully delivered in marriage by now. Most of them had children and even my sister-in-law, Alexis was full and round as the moon. They had returned to the bayous for her to give birth and, after the initial wave of yelling and weeping had died down, I was told that I was unwelcome here for Peter was supposed to meet them at their old camp grounds. It was as I had expected although far more painful than I had truly realized it would be and, after less than half an hour it was clear that I should leave.
As I was preparing to say my final goodbyes to my family, Alexis began to go into labor and was moved by my mother into the RV. My papa hugged me with tears in his eyes but told me that I would never be welcome with the kumpania again. He said I should leave before Peter arrived, for although I was an outcast he did not wish to see his daughter marred by his son’s claws. Before I could even begin to leave howls came up from the marshlands, howls that belonged to neither wolves nor men. Papa’s brow furrowed as he looked at me.
“Dat ain't yo' brother,” he said and urged me to hide in the RV along with my mother and Alexis. Papa and my remaining brothers pulled their rifles from their trucks while the three of us women locked ourselves inside of the RV that they slept in. As long as I exist I will never forget the sounds that I heard on that night - the horrible ripping of flesh from bone, the sound of gunshots ringing out in the night, the screams of my family and the gurgling of bloody throats. At last the night grew quiet save for Alexis, whimpering in pain as her body struggled to push out the baby inside of her. My mother sat between her legs, urging her quietly to push as I held my hand over her mouth, trying to keep her silent. We began to believe that perhaps the intruders had left us when the RV began to rock from side to side as if pushed by a great force. Unable to keep silent any longer, we began to scream as the RV shook and then tipped over, crushing in on its side. The back door to the trailer opened up and a creature stepped inside that even now, after all I have seen, makes me sick to my stomach. What happened next I could not say. All I know is that I felt blood running down my face, heard the screams of my mother, and felt the weariness of pain. Despite my attempts to remain awake I could not and the sleep overwhelmed me.
When I woke up everything was in ruins.
These days the sight of blood doesn’t affect me too much. I’ve become tough over the years, full of fight and anger. But in those days, well, it was definitely a wake up call. The first thing I saw was the face of my mother. Her head had been severed from her body by the jagged edge of the RV door and now lay beside me. Across the wall, since the trailer had been tilted on its side, I could see Alexis lying on her side, still as the dead. I shifted carefully over the wreckage, trying not to make much noise, but I was unsuccessful and pots from the cabinets sprawled across one of the broken windows, making a racket. That was when I heard Alexis gasp for air and cry out.
My sister in law called for me and I made my way as best I could over to her. She had landed awkwardly when the trailer had been tossed over and I could see the wooden leg of a chair where it stuck from her back clear through to the front of her shoulder. She was pale and had been bleeding heavily, but still her stomach was swollen from the child. Wounded as she was, I knew there was no chance of moving her and she realized this as well. She begged me to do one thing, to try and save her baby.
Although I balked at the time, I gritted my teeth and agreed to do as she asked. I’ll spare you the details - I don’t like to think about it even now, years later - but I did the deed as carefully as I could. A few minutes later Anabelle came crying into the world just as her mother’s life bled out. That Ana had survived the jolt her mother’s body had received was a miracle, but seeing my tiny niece was just as much of a jolt to me.
Outside of the trailer the camp was strewn with wreckage and bodies. On the side of the RV a knife had been slammed into the siding, holding a note in place.
“Strider
Now we have made ghosts of your people for you to walk among”
Below it was a series of strange glyphs carved out with what looked to be claws that I knew to be the language of the garou. This was all the proof I needed that this was done to us because of my brother and I felt a mixture of rage and sadness. My baby niece mewed in my arms for her mother’s milk and I had nothing to give her. So I climbed into my father’s truck holding Ana in my arms. As I began to drive away from the camp, I could think of nothing more than finding shelter and food for my only living blood.
Through the kindness of a street doc my father had known in New Orleans I was able to find formula for Ana and a place to rest my head. Doc Jenkins cleaned my wounds, fed me and helped me to get on my feet again. He was an old black man with a soft voice and long white dreadlocks who sang us both lullabies when we could not sleep. For almost a year we stayed with him, hiding from my brother and from the monsters who sought to kill his family, until I gave birth to my own daughter, Clementine. Eventually, however, I told Doc Jenkins that we had to keep moving. I knew that whatever had killed my parents and siblings would come for us if they found out we were alive. So I packed up what few belongings I had and hit the road again.
I took odd jobs here and there as a waitress or bartender or mechanic moving from one small southern town to the next. I never turned tricks or stripped, but I lied, cheated and stole more often than I’d like to admit. But for every car I jacked or stereo I fenced I kept my mind on the most important thing: making sure my little girls were taken care of.
It was in Tampa where I met the man who would one day become my sire.
“Pappy” Mac Barfield was a well known man in central Florida and it was rumored that every two bit criminal, every legal eagle and every crooked cop in that region was on his payroll. If you wanted to move a product or smuggle something through the area you had to get Pappy's permission. I once heard it said that if someone stole a pie from a kitchen window then Pappy would be waiting behind them to get his slice. So it was a given that if I planned to stay in Tampa for any length of time that I’d have to give the big man my tithe.
The first time we met I mistakenly thought that Pappy was hitting on me and I punched him in the face. I thought the vato who’d introduced me to him was going to piss his pants he was so scared. But the large gentleman in the white suit and hat just laughed it off and told his security guards to put down their guns. He chastised them for letting a ‘little ol’ girl’ get the best of them and offered me a job working directly for him. The pay was good and steady and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get some connections in the Florida area. So I took the position working for Daddy Mac and unknowingly began to be initiated into the world of the Camarilla Brujah.
If you were to ask my Pappy why he decided to embrace me he’ll tell you it’s because he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing my pretty mug grow old. However, I’d like to think that it was the night that I took two to the chest for his ass that cemented our relationship. The assassination attempt failed but I still ended up bleeding out on the floor of a strip club. So it was that I was brought over into the ranks of the undead in the coat room of the Pussy Palace where my first meal as a kindred was a stripper named Ginger. Not exactly an auspicious beginning but somehow it sort of fits.
Lucky for me Pappy was already planning on taking me as his childe and had already received Rite of Progeny from Prince Gainus Concord. A month later I got cleaned up and dragged into court where I was given Acknowledgement as a member of the Camarilla. I was thrown into the mix with Jazz Baltimore and the rest of the Brujah of the area - Mack Coats, John Ford, James Shocker, Ed Walls and a few transients who were always traveling back and forth from Gainesville. These days I hear some of those ‘transients’ are a little bit more permanent after Gainesville fell to the Sabbat. Osmond was the first prince I ever met outside of Concord and he was a damn good man, kindred or not. I’ve always said that the Camarilla’s been the less for his loss and I’ll fight any man who claims otherwise.
Un-life in Tampa was good in those nights. Sure, there were always the Setites or the Sabbat to deal with, but the city was strong and I always felt safe. But eventually that wanderlust hit and I got the urge to travel again. So Pappy gave me a few Gs and suggested that I try traveling up north. He would keep Ana and Clementine safe in his household until I got settled somewhere and I could send for them then. In Chicago I got a job working for Jack and Priscilla, sent for my girls and the rest, as they say, is history.
It was there that Spider O’Neil’s presence nearly cost us our job and Priscilla’s life and I almost got killed by Al Capone. But that’s another tale for another time, and one that’s not yet done.
Of course there are plenty of other stories in there - as often as we traveled it became impossible not to get into trouble. I’ve been from New York to San Francisco and everywhere in between since those early nights. I’ve seen a lot of things, been in a lot of fights and made my fair share of friends and enemies in this world.
*****
I woke up the next evening to a little girl jumping up and down on my bed.
“...And we went to the movies and out for pizza at Chucky Cheese!” Ana was saying into the telephone while using me as a spring board. She paused briefly before going off again. “Um, I got a couple of new CDs and a new pair of shoes and a Stitch doll and I got Aladdin on DVD! And Miss Priscilla got me a pretty pink dress with lots of ruffles and a pair of high heel shoes and Mister Jack got me a water pistol that looks just like his gun and Mister Eddie got me a bunch of tattoos that you can put on with a wash cloth and Lola got me a...”
“Ana,” I mumbled, squinting up at her. “Who you talkin' to?”
“I’m talking to Uncle Hunter!” She said proudly and then continued on her tirade. I blinked awake and shook the cobwebs out of my head.
“Wait - you talkin' to Hunter?”
“Yep!” She replied with a grin. “You want to talk to him?”
“Yeah, uh, yes, please,” I said and held my hand out for the phone.
“Alright, I’ll talk with you later! (pause) You promise? (pause) Awesome!” And then Ana put her hands to her lips and made a big kissing noise that was just way too cute for this early in the evening. I sighed and kept my hand held out for the phone which she handed me before bouncing off the bed. “Imma go put in Aladdin!” She announced and went running into the living room.
Clementine just watched her sister go running off and shook her head. “She sure has been hyper today, mama,” my little one said quietly. “I think maybe se had too much cake.”
“Maybe so baby,” I mumbled, face still half pressed into the bed. “Go into de living room wit’ your sister and make sure she ain’t into any trouble, alright?”
“Yes ma’am,” Clementine replied, climbing out of the bed and heading into the other room.
I brought the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Evenin’ to you too, angel,” that familiar voice said on the other end of the phone. I sighed.
“Hunter, what do you want?” I grumbled into the pillow.
“A horse ranch out in Wyoming and a gun that doesn’t jam at inopportune times,” he replied. Although it was meant as a joke, there was more than a hint of truth in his words that spoke of a recent incident. I didn’t ask. Instead I just sighed.
“Funny. Why you callin' my house?” I asked, trying this again.
“To make sure you made it in one piece,” he said. “You know, since you didn’t call like you were supposed to.”
"You ain't my keeper, Hunter,” I replied, annoyance starting to itch at me. “In fact, da way I remember it, you were da one dat needed more space.”
It was his turn to sigh. “I never said that, Vivi. Business took me out west. You’re the one that cut ties. I came home one night and all of your shit was gone and you didn’t even have the fucking...”
“Cause I got tired of waitin' around for you to get killed. Besides, you made it perfectly fuckin’ clear dat you didn’t want a relationship at de time. You said I could do better so I took your damn advice,” I snapped, interrupting him. The other end of the line grew silent. I heard the brief crackle of a cigarette and I could almost picture him exhaling the smoke, trying to calm down. However, I was pissed too and had no intention of letting this go. “Look, you keep tellin' me to come over to da Cam, to start working for da big guys and leave my little piss-ant day job behind. Bullshit. Jackin' two-bit criminals is easy. And it’s safe. I ain't got da fuckin' guns you do. I don’t have da power or da blood to go toe-to-toe with every fucking rogue Giovanni or Setite like you can. I want to actually live to see my kids grow up, not be another roadside memorial!”
The telephone stayed silent for almost a good minute, the only sound on the other end the burning down of his cigarette. Finally, his growling voice came through, calm as glass.
“That’s not the only reason I called,” he said, exhaling his smoke.
“Oh? What else is dere? Cause if you’re lookin' to borrow money you got da wrong girl, Jack.”
“When was the last time you talked to your Pappy?”
I paused, thinking. “Um, bout a month or so ago I guess. I dunno. Why you ask? He lookin' for me?”
“Not exactly,” Hunter replied gravely. “Word’s going round that something happened down in Tampa. Whole goddamn domain’s up and disappeared. Elysiums are all empty, havens are too. No one seems to know what’s happened.”
I blinked, shocked at what I was hearing. “You serious?” I asked, knowing damn well that he was.
“Just thought you might want to know. Not that you’re going to do anything about it. Too dangerous, you know. Wouldn’t want to get involved with any of that Camarilla shit.”
My jaws clenched tight and my hands pulled up into fists. “It’s a good thing you’re halfway across dis country, Hunter Marshall,” I muttered. “’cause if you were nearby, I swear to God, I’d...”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look, when you’re not all empty promises and smack talk, give me a call Velvet. Till then, I don’t want to hear it. And you tell that girl of yours her Uncle’ll be seeing her soon. Adios babe.”
Click.
I fell back into the bed, pulled a pillow over my head, and screamed until I was out of air in my lungs. Then I laid there for a little while longer, just mulling over the thoughts in my head as I stared at the pillowcase, unblinking. Eventually I felt a finger poke me in my side and I recoiled at the tickle.
“Hey,” I mumbled from under the pillow. “Stop dat.”
“Ppppbbbthhh.”
I lifted the pillow up, stuck my tongue out and rasberried back. Before she could escape I grabbed a hold of the curly haired girl and swept her up into the bed, rewarded with a peal of giggling squeals. Sitting up, I wrapped my arms around Ana, rested my head on her shoulder and sighed.
“What’s wrong, mama?” She asked, stroking my hair with her small hand. I snuggled her closer, burying my face against her shoulder.
“I think I’m gonna have to go on another trip, Ana,” I replied quietly. “Do you remember my Pappy? From down in Florida?”
She paused. “You mean Grandpappy?” I chuckled and nodded. “Of course I remember him.”
“I think he’s in trouble and I need to go check on him.”
“Can I come?” She asked eagerly.
“I don’t think you should, Ana. It could be right dangerous. I mean, if he’s really in trouble it might be safer for you to stay here.”
Ana sighed dramatically and pushed me off of her. “I never get to go with you anywhere,” she said and rolled off the bed. “I’m tired of getting left at home! You’re such a meanie-head!” She stomped out of the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Great, I thought as I sat there, running my hand over my face. My sire was missing, I had lost a bounty, my Ex was being a pain in the ass, and now my kid was calling me a meanie-head. I sighed and cast the blankets off of me. What a friggin week.
I pleaded with Ana long enough to get her out of the bathroom so I could get a shower before calling into work.
“Jack,” I said when he (finally) answered the phone. “Listen. I, uh, I need to talk to you and Priscilla about some time off of work.”
“No can do, sunshine,” Jack mumbled around his cigarette. “Billy Bowles skipped out on his hearing this afternoon and I need you to go to his mama’s house and see if he’s holed up in there. ‘Sides, Priscilla’s gone crazy and started talking about moving again.”
“Not tonight, Jack. But soon. I, uh, I need to go take care of some things down south.”
“What the hell is up with everyone talking about going down south?” Jack snapped. Clearly there had been an argument there that I was not privy to. Note to self, ask Eddie what I had missed later on. “People with all their teeth too good for you bunch of Johnny Rebs?”
“Seriously, Jack.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on in and we’ll talk it over.”
I hung up the phone and got dressed, walking out into the living room to find Ana on the couch watching cartoons. After a little bit of bribing in the form of macaroni and cheese for dinner, I bundled her up and we headed over to the office.
“I need to head down to Georgia,” I announced as Ana and I sat down in the messy office. “I’ve got to take care of some family business down dere.”
“Family business?” Jack asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re taking a hit out on someone, Van Hawk. You working for Tony Mazza on the side?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” I replied, unfazed. “I try to be honest and look what it gets me.”
“Everything alright?” He asked, more serious this time.
I shrugged and glanced down to Ana and Clementine who were on the floor looking at one of Jack’s discarded newspaper pages, searching for the comics section. “Dat’s what I’m going to find out,” I said. “I’ve had word about a few things dat, uh, I need to check on. Some relatives.”
“Hm,” Jack grunted, clearly not buying my brief story. “How long you planning on being gone?”
“Not sure,” I said. “Long as it takes I suppose.”
“What are you going to do with the rug rats until then?” He asked, glancing down to the girls as well.
“Well, dat’s what I -“
“Well bless my soul!” Priscilla exclaimed as she walked into the room and saw Ana on the floor. “There’re my little princesses!” She said and scooped the girls up into a hug, which Ana and Clementine returned with a giggle. “What’re my little girls doing up here? You come to visit your Aunt Priscilla?”
“We’re taking a trip!” Ana declared and grinned broadly at Priscilla, who immediately turned and glared at me.
“Oh, we are, are we?” Priscilla asked. I squirmed in my chair.
“Yeah, Priscilla,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Dat’s, uh, dat’s what I came to talk to you and Jack about. I need some time off and someone to watch Ana and Clementine while I’m gone.”
“You’re not leaving me!” Ana stated firmly.
“You’re not leaving us!” Priscilla added, letting the girls back down to the ground. “Where in the world are you planning on going anyway, Vivi? I know you ain’t heading out west to go see that good for nothing beau of yours. I’ve told you a million times that man ain’t going to give you nothing but...”
“No, Priscilla,” I muttered through my palm which I tried my best to hide behind. This is why you don’t talk to these people, I thought. You should just up and go and call them once you’re on the road. “I have some family business I need to go take care of down in Georgia and...”
“Georgia?” She interrupted. “What part of Georgia you heading to?”
I paused, thinking of where the nearest domain was. “Middle Georgia. Uhhh, Macon, Milledgeville, somewhere dereabouts.”
“Oh, I’ve got a cousin that lives down in Macon,” Priscilla said, her tone growing less accusatory and more ‘fond memories.’ “Jeanette Pittman. She’s such a sweet thing too, although I ain’t seen her in a month of Sundays.” Jack and I exchanged a ‘WTF’ look over the desk as Priscilla went on. “You know, I was born and brought up down in South Georgia. A little town called Albany. That’s where my mama and her family are all from anyway.”
“Well, maybe I’ll have to drop in on 'em when I head down dere,” I said, standing up. “But I really need to get on the road in the next night or two, so, um, you might want to tell Eddie to start pickin' up my cases.”
“Are you really serious about this, Velvet?” Priscilla asked, frowning.
“As a heart attack,” I replied, stretching.
“Well,” she sighed. “I don’t reckon Jack and I can stop you if you’ve set your mind to it.”
“No ma’am, I don’t suppose you can,” I said and tugged my shirt back down over my stomach. “I’ll be by tomorrow to pick up a couple of things, including my last check, so I’ll see you two den.” I held my hand out to Ana and Clementine who walked over and took it. I nodded to both of them and Ana and I walked out the door to begin our preparations to head south.
Eventually I moved down south and found my sire who had been hiding, along with the rest of his domain, from a Setite priest who had joined forces with several rogue Sabbat packs in Florida. With the help of the Macon domain we rousted the snakes from their temples and cleaned out Tampa, an action that saw me gain both standing in the Camarilla and a position as deputy Sheriff. When the Sheriff I had been working under got killed by a passing pack of Garou, I got an unexpected promotion to his job. For a couple of years I did my best in the position, working on the administration, enforcing the Masquerade, becoming a regular Camarilla lap dog. The Prince was a Malkavian, but he was a good man and I was fiercely loyal to him and his ideals.
Unfortunately, old habits die hard and the subtle war between my clan and the local Ventrue boiled over due to the stupid actions of a Brujah neonate. They couldn’t pin it on the lick who’d done the deed so instead they came after me, headhunting for my position because I had been dealing with Anarchs up in Athens way. Of course it didn’t matter that I’d been doing this under the auspices of the Prince, trying to gain allies for our city. All that matter was that I was a Brujah “showing Anarch tendencies” and I found myself labeled a traitor to the sect. Rather than disgrace my Prince or my sire, I abdicated the position and began to try and convince Jack and Priscilla that we should move elsewhere.
So it was that we decided to come out west, to the city of Lost Angels. Hunter got a particular kick out of that, his own lost angel heading out to Los Angeles. I never told him that it was because I’d caught wind that Spider might be in the area and was hoping to settle some old debts. I reckon he probably knows anyway. He’s been coming around off and on more recently, trying to mend bridges with me and the girls. I’ve tried to keep him at arm’s length, but the old cowboy’s real hard to push away, damned stubborn when he wants to be. Every so often he’ll come riding into town, sweep me off my feet, turn my world upside down, then be gone by the end of the month. I’m beginning to think that’s the closest thing to a relationship that we’ll ever have, however, if he’s good to my girls then I don’t suppose I’ve got too much I complain about. We both need our freedom, I just wish he didn’t need his so much.
As for my girls, well, Clementine will be fourteen this autumn and seems to look more like her father every day. She’s quieter and shier than her older sister, but is already smart as a whip. Anabelle is about to be fifteen and is as precocious and beautiful as ever. The older she gets the more she looks like my brother and the more I worry that one night I’m going to open the door and find Peter standing there. Even though I know that my brother is (or was) a werewolf, I’ll be damned if he’ll ever take my family away from me.
My earliest memories were around the campfires of my family’s kumpania, filled with singing and dancing in the dark woods of Louisiana. I had three brothers and two sisters and we were all as dark and comely as our parents. Our existence was simple but pleasant; we traveled often around the state, met with other families of Romani and learned of the old ways as well as how to survive in the modern world. We learned to be suspicious of gadje, or outsiders, the art of bujo, how to tell fortunes, perform sleight of hand and escape tricks, and when to leave a city. However, we also learned 'honest' trades, metalworking, repairing engines, electronics and the like, all of which came from our ancestors' talents as smiths. We existed on the edges of normal society but we had nothing to complain about. When there was something we needed, we took it, and we were happy in our own way.
But once a year my siblings and I were herded up to a small town in Tennessee where we would be inspected by our ‘elders.’ My parents never told us what those stern, scarred men and women were looking for, but they never seemed to find it in any of us. Only my younger brother Peter ever caught the elder’s eye. One year, when he was only fifteen years old - I was still fifteen myself, we were so close in age - the elders took Peter away from the rest of us. I did not hear all of the conversation that took place in the tent next to ours, but I did hear one of the old crones tell my father that “the boy would breed true.” My mother wept for the next four nights and although I did not understand what happened for years to come, I recognized that we had lost my brother forever.
It was four years later when I next saw Peter at the wedding that had been arranged for him. He was a different man that day, tall and handsome but already weary and scarred like the elders. We had only a few hours together to speak in private as his bride to be prepared for the ceremony in her tent. He spoke of terrible things in those brief hours, of vile creatures that were half man, half beast, of corrupting forces that threatened our people and of a sacred duty that he had been charged with to keep the old ways safe. Even now when I think of the things that he said my blood runs cold and I will never forget the fear in his eyes - the eyes of a child in the body of a man - as we spent our last day together. After the ceremony was completed he and his young wife went into their own tent to consummate their vows. He left some time in the morning and after that day I would not see him again for many long months. Once or twice a year he would visit our camp to see Alexis for an evening, but he rarely spoke to us and by the next sunrise he would always be gone.
As was the custom, Alexis had come to live with our family after their marriage and I was glad for her company, for I was the only one of the children in my family who had yet to fulfill my betrothal. Although I had been promised in marriage when I was only two years old to a boy from another kumpania, my father had told me that my promised husband was a very important man among the Roma and was busy helping my brother's pack. I cared little one way or another, my parents needed help as they grew older and I was pleased to be able to offer it to them. Besides, I had no desire to be married off to a strange clan only to be used as breeding stock for those of ‘truer blood.’
Although I had always known of the darkness that existed beyond my family’s kumpania, my brother’s words had taken hold of me and settled in deeply. I grew depressed and wary of others while my work suffered. Several of my jobs ended poorly and I was almost arrested by the police more than once. Even my visions, which I had received since I first came of age, were clouded and difficult to interpret. In the end, I came home one evening only to find all of my belongings packed in a duffle bag in front of my family’s RV. A note pinned to the front said simply, “Go find yourself. We love you. Good luck.”
That night I set off on my own. At first I had thought that I might meet up with another kumpania, perhaps find another family to tour with throughout the southern states, but fate seemed to have other plans for me. I swindled and conned my way across the south, going through small towns and large ones alike, making connections with gadje who were useful and ripping off the ones who weren’t. Occasionally I headed north or to the west coast, but never for very long. The south was home for me and always would be.
For years I wandered on my own, content with one-night stands, brief stays in small towns and jobs that rarely lasted more than a month or two. But it was in a small town in eastern Louisiana where I met the man who would change my life by becoming the father of my own child. His name was Sean, but he went by the nickname of Spider and he claimed to be little more than a salesman going door-to-door peddling encyclopedias. I’m sure that I didn’t buy into his story entirely, but he could spin a tale with the practiced ease of a hustler and everything about him felt comfortable. Dark haired and lean, with one green eye and one brown one, I gravitated towards him like the sun, never able to take my gaze off of him as we spoke. For a few days we spent our time making love in his hotel room before I would go off to my job in a nearby body shop. In the evening he’d come back to the bar we’d first met up in, we’d have a few drinks and repeat the process again. Part of me hoped that he was Romani, but I had no proof that he was anything other than a talented, silver-tongued gadje. At the end of the week he left town, having finished his job there, and I never saw him again. Two months later I found out that I was pregnant and in my heart I knew he had to be the father.
I was nervous and scared, but happy as well, even though I knew that this would be the final blow to cast me out of my family’s good graces. A child that was not pure-blooded would be seen as unclean, a half-breed who would be unwelcome among my people. But still I knew that I had to tell them and so I made my way back to New Orleans to hunt down my kumpania.
The meeting with my family did not go so well. My parents both looked older, but well, and all of my brothers and sisters had been successfully delivered in marriage by now. Most of them had children and even my sister-in-law, Alexis was full and round as the moon. They had returned to the bayous for her to give birth and, after the initial wave of yelling and weeping had died down, I was told that I was unwelcome here for Peter was supposed to meet them at their old camp grounds. It was as I had expected although far more painful than I had truly realized it would be and, after less than half an hour it was clear that I should leave.
As I was preparing to say my final goodbyes to my family, Alexis began to go into labor and was moved by my mother into the RV. My papa hugged me with tears in his eyes but told me that I would never be welcome with the kumpania again. He said I should leave before Peter arrived, for although I was an outcast he did not wish to see his daughter marred by his son’s claws. Before I could even begin to leave howls came up from the marshlands, howls that belonged to neither wolves nor men. Papa’s brow furrowed as he looked at me.
“Dat ain't yo' brother,” he said and urged me to hide in the RV along with my mother and Alexis. Papa and my remaining brothers pulled their rifles from their trucks while the three of us women locked ourselves inside of the RV that they slept in. As long as I exist I will never forget the sounds that I heard on that night - the horrible ripping of flesh from bone, the sound of gunshots ringing out in the night, the screams of my family and the gurgling of bloody throats. At last the night grew quiet save for Alexis, whimpering in pain as her body struggled to push out the baby inside of her. My mother sat between her legs, urging her quietly to push as I held my hand over her mouth, trying to keep her silent. We began to believe that perhaps the intruders had left us when the RV began to rock from side to side as if pushed by a great force. Unable to keep silent any longer, we began to scream as the RV shook and then tipped over, crushing in on its side. The back door to the trailer opened up and a creature stepped inside that even now, after all I have seen, makes me sick to my stomach. What happened next I could not say. All I know is that I felt blood running down my face, heard the screams of my mother, and felt the weariness of pain. Despite my attempts to remain awake I could not and the sleep overwhelmed me.
When I woke up everything was in ruins.
These days the sight of blood doesn’t affect me too much. I’ve become tough over the years, full of fight and anger. But in those days, well, it was definitely a wake up call. The first thing I saw was the face of my mother. Her head had been severed from her body by the jagged edge of the RV door and now lay beside me. Across the wall, since the trailer had been tilted on its side, I could see Alexis lying on her side, still as the dead. I shifted carefully over the wreckage, trying not to make much noise, but I was unsuccessful and pots from the cabinets sprawled across one of the broken windows, making a racket. That was when I heard Alexis gasp for air and cry out.
My sister in law called for me and I made my way as best I could over to her. She had landed awkwardly when the trailer had been tossed over and I could see the wooden leg of a chair where it stuck from her back clear through to the front of her shoulder. She was pale and had been bleeding heavily, but still her stomach was swollen from the child. Wounded as she was, I knew there was no chance of moving her and she realized this as well. She begged me to do one thing, to try and save her baby.
Although I balked at the time, I gritted my teeth and agreed to do as she asked. I’ll spare you the details - I don’t like to think about it even now, years later - but I did the deed as carefully as I could. A few minutes later Anabelle came crying into the world just as her mother’s life bled out. That Ana had survived the jolt her mother’s body had received was a miracle, but seeing my tiny niece was just as much of a jolt to me.
Outside of the trailer the camp was strewn with wreckage and bodies. On the side of the RV a knife had been slammed into the siding, holding a note in place.
“Strider
Now we have made ghosts of your people for you to walk among”
Below it was a series of strange glyphs carved out with what looked to be claws that I knew to be the language of the garou. This was all the proof I needed that this was done to us because of my brother and I felt a mixture of rage and sadness. My baby niece mewed in my arms for her mother’s milk and I had nothing to give her. So I climbed into my father’s truck holding Ana in my arms. As I began to drive away from the camp, I could think of nothing more than finding shelter and food for my only living blood.
Through the kindness of a street doc my father had known in New Orleans I was able to find formula for Ana and a place to rest my head. Doc Jenkins cleaned my wounds, fed me and helped me to get on my feet again. He was an old black man with a soft voice and long white dreadlocks who sang us both lullabies when we could not sleep. For almost a year we stayed with him, hiding from my brother and from the monsters who sought to kill his family, until I gave birth to my own daughter, Clementine. Eventually, however, I told Doc Jenkins that we had to keep moving. I knew that whatever had killed my parents and siblings would come for us if they found out we were alive. So I packed up what few belongings I had and hit the road again.
I took odd jobs here and there as a waitress or bartender or mechanic moving from one small southern town to the next. I never turned tricks or stripped, but I lied, cheated and stole more often than I’d like to admit. But for every car I jacked or stereo I fenced I kept my mind on the most important thing: making sure my little girls were taken care of.
It was in Tampa where I met the man who would one day become my sire.
“Pappy” Mac Barfield was a well known man in central Florida and it was rumored that every two bit criminal, every legal eagle and every crooked cop in that region was on his payroll. If you wanted to move a product or smuggle something through the area you had to get Pappy's permission. I once heard it said that if someone stole a pie from a kitchen window then Pappy would be waiting behind them to get his slice. So it was a given that if I planned to stay in Tampa for any length of time that I’d have to give the big man my tithe.
The first time we met I mistakenly thought that Pappy was hitting on me and I punched him in the face. I thought the vato who’d introduced me to him was going to piss his pants he was so scared. But the large gentleman in the white suit and hat just laughed it off and told his security guards to put down their guns. He chastised them for letting a ‘little ol’ girl’ get the best of them and offered me a job working directly for him. The pay was good and steady and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get some connections in the Florida area. So I took the position working for Daddy Mac and unknowingly began to be initiated into the world of the Camarilla Brujah.
If you were to ask my Pappy why he decided to embrace me he’ll tell you it’s because he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing my pretty mug grow old. However, I’d like to think that it was the night that I took two to the chest for his ass that cemented our relationship. The assassination attempt failed but I still ended up bleeding out on the floor of a strip club. So it was that I was brought over into the ranks of the undead in the coat room of the Pussy Palace where my first meal as a kindred was a stripper named Ginger. Not exactly an auspicious beginning but somehow it sort of fits.
Lucky for me Pappy was already planning on taking me as his childe and had already received Rite of Progeny from Prince Gainus Concord. A month later I got cleaned up and dragged into court where I was given Acknowledgement as a member of the Camarilla. I was thrown into the mix with Jazz Baltimore and the rest of the Brujah of the area - Mack Coats, John Ford, James Shocker, Ed Walls and a few transients who were always traveling back and forth from Gainesville. These days I hear some of those ‘transients’ are a little bit more permanent after Gainesville fell to the Sabbat. Osmond was the first prince I ever met outside of Concord and he was a damn good man, kindred or not. I’ve always said that the Camarilla’s been the less for his loss and I’ll fight any man who claims otherwise.
Un-life in Tampa was good in those nights. Sure, there were always the Setites or the Sabbat to deal with, but the city was strong and I always felt safe. But eventually that wanderlust hit and I got the urge to travel again. So Pappy gave me a few Gs and suggested that I try traveling up north. He would keep Ana and Clementine safe in his household until I got settled somewhere and I could send for them then. In Chicago I got a job working for Jack and Priscilla, sent for my girls and the rest, as they say, is history.
It was there that Spider O’Neil’s presence nearly cost us our job and Priscilla’s life and I almost got killed by Al Capone. But that’s another tale for another time, and one that’s not yet done.
Of course there are plenty of other stories in there - as often as we traveled it became impossible not to get into trouble. I’ve been from New York to San Francisco and everywhere in between since those early nights. I’ve seen a lot of things, been in a lot of fights and made my fair share of friends and enemies in this world.
*****
I woke up the next evening to a little girl jumping up and down on my bed.
“...And we went to the movies and out for pizza at Chucky Cheese!” Ana was saying into the telephone while using me as a spring board. She paused briefly before going off again. “Um, I got a couple of new CDs and a new pair of shoes and a Stitch doll and I got Aladdin on DVD! And Miss Priscilla got me a pretty pink dress with lots of ruffles and a pair of high heel shoes and Mister Jack got me a water pistol that looks just like his gun and Mister Eddie got me a bunch of tattoos that you can put on with a wash cloth and Lola got me a...”
“Ana,” I mumbled, squinting up at her. “Who you talkin' to?”
“I’m talking to Uncle Hunter!” She said proudly and then continued on her tirade. I blinked awake and shook the cobwebs out of my head.
“Wait - you talkin' to Hunter?”
“Yep!” She replied with a grin. “You want to talk to him?”
“Yeah, uh, yes, please,” I said and held my hand out for the phone.
“Alright, I’ll talk with you later! (pause) You promise? (pause) Awesome!” And then Ana put her hands to her lips and made a big kissing noise that was just way too cute for this early in the evening. I sighed and kept my hand held out for the phone which she handed me before bouncing off the bed. “Imma go put in Aladdin!” She announced and went running into the living room.
Clementine just watched her sister go running off and shook her head. “She sure has been hyper today, mama,” my little one said quietly. “I think maybe se had too much cake.”
“Maybe so baby,” I mumbled, face still half pressed into the bed. “Go into de living room wit’ your sister and make sure she ain’t into any trouble, alright?”
“Yes ma’am,” Clementine replied, climbing out of the bed and heading into the other room.
I brought the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”
“Evenin’ to you too, angel,” that familiar voice said on the other end of the phone. I sighed.
“Hunter, what do you want?” I grumbled into the pillow.
“A horse ranch out in Wyoming and a gun that doesn’t jam at inopportune times,” he replied. Although it was meant as a joke, there was more than a hint of truth in his words that spoke of a recent incident. I didn’t ask. Instead I just sighed.
“Funny. Why you callin' my house?” I asked, trying this again.
“To make sure you made it in one piece,” he said. “You know, since you didn’t call like you were supposed to.”
"You ain't my keeper, Hunter,” I replied, annoyance starting to itch at me. “In fact, da way I remember it, you were da one dat needed more space.”
It was his turn to sigh. “I never said that, Vivi. Business took me out west. You’re the one that cut ties. I came home one night and all of your shit was gone and you didn’t even have the fucking...”
“Cause I got tired of waitin' around for you to get killed. Besides, you made it perfectly fuckin’ clear dat you didn’t want a relationship at de time. You said I could do better so I took your damn advice,” I snapped, interrupting him. The other end of the line grew silent. I heard the brief crackle of a cigarette and I could almost picture him exhaling the smoke, trying to calm down. However, I was pissed too and had no intention of letting this go. “Look, you keep tellin' me to come over to da Cam, to start working for da big guys and leave my little piss-ant day job behind. Bullshit. Jackin' two-bit criminals is easy. And it’s safe. I ain't got da fuckin' guns you do. I don’t have da power or da blood to go toe-to-toe with every fucking rogue Giovanni or Setite like you can. I want to actually live to see my kids grow up, not be another roadside memorial!”
The telephone stayed silent for almost a good minute, the only sound on the other end the burning down of his cigarette. Finally, his growling voice came through, calm as glass.
“That’s not the only reason I called,” he said, exhaling his smoke.
“Oh? What else is dere? Cause if you’re lookin' to borrow money you got da wrong girl, Jack.”
“When was the last time you talked to your Pappy?”
I paused, thinking. “Um, bout a month or so ago I guess. I dunno. Why you ask? He lookin' for me?”
“Not exactly,” Hunter replied gravely. “Word’s going round that something happened down in Tampa. Whole goddamn domain’s up and disappeared. Elysiums are all empty, havens are too. No one seems to know what’s happened.”
I blinked, shocked at what I was hearing. “You serious?” I asked, knowing damn well that he was.
“Just thought you might want to know. Not that you’re going to do anything about it. Too dangerous, you know. Wouldn’t want to get involved with any of that Camarilla shit.”
My jaws clenched tight and my hands pulled up into fists. “It’s a good thing you’re halfway across dis country, Hunter Marshall,” I muttered. “’cause if you were nearby, I swear to God, I’d...”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look, when you’re not all empty promises and smack talk, give me a call Velvet. Till then, I don’t want to hear it. And you tell that girl of yours her Uncle’ll be seeing her soon. Adios babe.”
Click.
I fell back into the bed, pulled a pillow over my head, and screamed until I was out of air in my lungs. Then I laid there for a little while longer, just mulling over the thoughts in my head as I stared at the pillowcase, unblinking. Eventually I felt a finger poke me in my side and I recoiled at the tickle.
“Hey,” I mumbled from under the pillow. “Stop dat.”
“Ppppbbbthhh.”
I lifted the pillow up, stuck my tongue out and rasberried back. Before she could escape I grabbed a hold of the curly haired girl and swept her up into the bed, rewarded with a peal of giggling squeals. Sitting up, I wrapped my arms around Ana, rested my head on her shoulder and sighed.
“What’s wrong, mama?” She asked, stroking my hair with her small hand. I snuggled her closer, burying my face against her shoulder.
“I think I’m gonna have to go on another trip, Ana,” I replied quietly. “Do you remember my Pappy? From down in Florida?”
She paused. “You mean Grandpappy?” I chuckled and nodded. “Of course I remember him.”
“I think he’s in trouble and I need to go check on him.”
“Can I come?” She asked eagerly.
“I don’t think you should, Ana. It could be right dangerous. I mean, if he’s really in trouble it might be safer for you to stay here.”
Ana sighed dramatically and pushed me off of her. “I never get to go with you anywhere,” she said and rolled off the bed. “I’m tired of getting left at home! You’re such a meanie-head!” She stomped out of the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Great, I thought as I sat there, running my hand over my face. My sire was missing, I had lost a bounty, my Ex was being a pain in the ass, and now my kid was calling me a meanie-head. I sighed and cast the blankets off of me. What a friggin week.
I pleaded with Ana long enough to get her out of the bathroom so I could get a shower before calling into work.
“Jack,” I said when he (finally) answered the phone. “Listen. I, uh, I need to talk to you and Priscilla about some time off of work.”
“No can do, sunshine,” Jack mumbled around his cigarette. “Billy Bowles skipped out on his hearing this afternoon and I need you to go to his mama’s house and see if he’s holed up in there. ‘Sides, Priscilla’s gone crazy and started talking about moving again.”
“Not tonight, Jack. But soon. I, uh, I need to go take care of some things down south.”
“What the hell is up with everyone talking about going down south?” Jack snapped. Clearly there had been an argument there that I was not privy to. Note to self, ask Eddie what I had missed later on. “People with all their teeth too good for you bunch of Johnny Rebs?”
“Seriously, Jack.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on in and we’ll talk it over.”
I hung up the phone and got dressed, walking out into the living room to find Ana on the couch watching cartoons. After a little bit of bribing in the form of macaroni and cheese for dinner, I bundled her up and we headed over to the office.
“I need to head down to Georgia,” I announced as Ana and I sat down in the messy office. “I’ve got to take care of some family business down dere.”
“Family business?” Jack asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re taking a hit out on someone, Van Hawk. You working for Tony Mazza on the side?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” I replied, unfazed. “I try to be honest and look what it gets me.”
“Everything alright?” He asked, more serious this time.
I shrugged and glanced down to Ana and Clementine who were on the floor looking at one of Jack’s discarded newspaper pages, searching for the comics section. “Dat’s what I’m going to find out,” I said. “I’ve had word about a few things dat, uh, I need to check on. Some relatives.”
“Hm,” Jack grunted, clearly not buying my brief story. “How long you planning on being gone?”
“Not sure,” I said. “Long as it takes I suppose.”
“What are you going to do with the rug rats until then?” He asked, glancing down to the girls as well.
“Well, dat’s what I -“
“Well bless my soul!” Priscilla exclaimed as she walked into the room and saw Ana on the floor. “There’re my little princesses!” She said and scooped the girls up into a hug, which Ana and Clementine returned with a giggle. “What’re my little girls doing up here? You come to visit your Aunt Priscilla?”
“We’re taking a trip!” Ana declared and grinned broadly at Priscilla, who immediately turned and glared at me.
“Oh, we are, are we?” Priscilla asked. I squirmed in my chair.
“Yeah, Priscilla,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Dat’s, uh, dat’s what I came to talk to you and Jack about. I need some time off and someone to watch Ana and Clementine while I’m gone.”
“You’re not leaving me!” Ana stated firmly.
“You’re not leaving us!” Priscilla added, letting the girls back down to the ground. “Where in the world are you planning on going anyway, Vivi? I know you ain’t heading out west to go see that good for nothing beau of yours. I’ve told you a million times that man ain’t going to give you nothing but...”
“No, Priscilla,” I muttered through my palm which I tried my best to hide behind. This is why you don’t talk to these people, I thought. You should just up and go and call them once you’re on the road. “I have some family business I need to go take care of down in Georgia and...”
“Georgia?” She interrupted. “What part of Georgia you heading to?”
I paused, thinking of where the nearest domain was. “Middle Georgia. Uhhh, Macon, Milledgeville, somewhere dereabouts.”
“Oh, I’ve got a cousin that lives down in Macon,” Priscilla said, her tone growing less accusatory and more ‘fond memories.’ “Jeanette Pittman. She’s such a sweet thing too, although I ain’t seen her in a month of Sundays.” Jack and I exchanged a ‘WTF’ look over the desk as Priscilla went on. “You know, I was born and brought up down in South Georgia. A little town called Albany. That’s where my mama and her family are all from anyway.”
“Well, maybe I’ll have to drop in on 'em when I head down dere,” I said, standing up. “But I really need to get on the road in the next night or two, so, um, you might want to tell Eddie to start pickin' up my cases.”
“Are you really serious about this, Velvet?” Priscilla asked, frowning.
“As a heart attack,” I replied, stretching.
“Well,” she sighed. “I don’t reckon Jack and I can stop you if you’ve set your mind to it.”
“No ma’am, I don’t suppose you can,” I said and tugged my shirt back down over my stomach. “I’ll be by tomorrow to pick up a couple of things, including my last check, so I’ll see you two den.” I held my hand out to Ana and Clementine who walked over and took it. I nodded to both of them and Ana and I walked out the door to begin our preparations to head south.
Eventually I moved down south and found my sire who had been hiding, along with the rest of his domain, from a Setite priest who had joined forces with several rogue Sabbat packs in Florida. With the help of the Macon domain we rousted the snakes from their temples and cleaned out Tampa, an action that saw me gain both standing in the Camarilla and a position as deputy Sheriff. When the Sheriff I had been working under got killed by a passing pack of Garou, I got an unexpected promotion to his job. For a couple of years I did my best in the position, working on the administration, enforcing the Masquerade, becoming a regular Camarilla lap dog. The Prince was a Malkavian, but he was a good man and I was fiercely loyal to him and his ideals.
Unfortunately, old habits die hard and the subtle war between my clan and the local Ventrue boiled over due to the stupid actions of a Brujah neonate. They couldn’t pin it on the lick who’d done the deed so instead they came after me, headhunting for my position because I had been dealing with Anarchs up in Athens way. Of course it didn’t matter that I’d been doing this under the auspices of the Prince, trying to gain allies for our city. All that matter was that I was a Brujah “showing Anarch tendencies” and I found myself labeled a traitor to the sect. Rather than disgrace my Prince or my sire, I abdicated the position and began to try and convince Jack and Priscilla that we should move elsewhere.
So it was that we decided to come out west, to the city of Lost Angels. Hunter got a particular kick out of that, his own lost angel heading out to Los Angeles. I never told him that it was because I’d caught wind that Spider might be in the area and was hoping to settle some old debts. I reckon he probably knows anyway. He’s been coming around off and on more recently, trying to mend bridges with me and the girls. I’ve tried to keep him at arm’s length, but the old cowboy’s real hard to push away, damned stubborn when he wants to be. Every so often he’ll come riding into town, sweep me off my feet, turn my world upside down, then be gone by the end of the month. I’m beginning to think that’s the closest thing to a relationship that we’ll ever have, however, if he’s good to my girls then I don’t suppose I’ve got too much I complain about. We both need our freedom, I just wish he didn’t need his so much.
As for my girls, well, Clementine will be fourteen this autumn and seems to look more like her father every day. She’s quieter and shier than her older sister, but is already smart as a whip. Anabelle is about to be fifteen and is as precocious and beautiful as ever. The older she gets the more she looks like my brother and the more I worry that one night I’m going to open the door and find Peter standing there. Even though I know that my brother is (or was) a werewolf, I’ll be damned if he’ll ever take my family away from me.