It’s really comforting to know that one is needed. From what I hear the last gathering has been the next best thing to a catastrophe. Of course my thought is that people are greatly exagerating. However, it does feel good to know that my presence might have improved the situation considerably. Only, we are never to find out. Therefore, on to new deeds and grandeur. I find myself in a very farorable mood, despite some of the things I found out recently.

First of all I should note that I’m giving it another two weeks before I’ll speak up to the other two about one official death. Such a shame, really. Up to now neither of them seems to have noticed.

And I should probably start off with Jason, for a change. The countess pretty much beat the crap out of him for educative purposes. Can’t say I envy him over the lesson. I do hope it helps him get back on his feet for good now. She and her husband basically told me I’d better get him back in line, or we’ll both have to bleed for it. Damn them all. He’s still good. He slipped. So what. Alena did that way more often than he did. Still she gets away with much more.

Had a somewhat lengthy conversation with Rottenmeier. I gave her a piece of one of my early works around here. I’m curious to see what she’ll say to it. Not that I think he’ll appreciate it much. Still. She will have an opinion. Now the thing will be to coax it out of her.

Speaking of Alena and responsibility. They’re sending her back. And I’m to have an eye on her. The way I understand it it’s pretty close to having her as a child. Almost. Not quite. Because if I had I could claim her blood back as mine. And if they’re any smart they won’t give me that authority. I sure as hell would reclaim the blood sooner rather than later. I hate mistakes. At least the kind she makes as of late. Don’t think she’ll like that little experiment too much. In fact I think she’ll lash out. Which will fine. In that case I’ll just send her back, stake in heart.

It was a night of very strange revelations. Euler approached me, talking to me about good Miss Sanders. Now, I wonder why he would spill the beans about internal stuff of his clan. Either he’s testing me, or he’s really, really desperate. I told him I’d help out. And I will. Good kid that I am.

As for Sanders? Yeah. Thinks herself some sort of oracle. Thought that Coraline would come out victorious in that thing she had with Jason and I. Rich. Well, she didn’t. And now she seems to have some intimate attachment to Pearse. I’ll have to look into it. Very amusing on some level.

Meanwhile Raphael thinks it a smart move to put a stake through Shepherd’s heart. Me, I don’t agree. That guy seems to be the type that holds a grudge. Pretty good way to make it on his shit list. Now if only Raphael could figure out how to get off of that. Don’t think he will.

At least he’s not alone with doing stuff he’d better not have done. Shepherd in turn most likely had entranced Miss Reed, who currently passes for Jacques’ child. So she tried to find the man once he disappeared. Which tells us several things: For example that he knows she’s Jacques’ weak spot. And that she’s stupid enough to let someone do that to her. Plus that she’s got not that much of a grasp on the traditions. Something I shall remedy soon enough. Or hurt her severely.

Not the only Brujah out and about whining about her current situation though. Hope is no better. At least she is trying to help. Ok, so we won’t let her lift a finger just yet, just to see if she can bear it. She’s on thin ice anyway. Putting her trust in a man who will let her down eventually. How do I know? Because he let me down, in his own way. I was way too trusting.

And how do I know that? Miss Peppermint… Turns out she’s dead. All the way. Not that he told me. Not even when I said I wanted to write to her. He even handed me an address. I can’t begin to say just how disappointed I was… Never really stopped being that, I think.

On the other hand he did come up with an oath: Once more I shall speak as I once promised. The Lord be my witness. I swear to protect you, always and to remain faithful to you. Not always visibly so, but ever true. This shall be my word within your life. This shall be my hand in yours. That is what I speak.

… Yeah. Only now I’m brooding over the words, trying to find the various loopholes. Finding them, of course. And wondering whether he meant them. Also it feels like a weird way of hand-fastening. For which I refuse to be the bride, for the record. Yet it was meant well, again. So am I to disregard my doubt over the intention he spoke the words in? Or am I, once more, being deceived with white lies?

Thomas, for a change, doesn’t cause much trouble. True, his answers aren’t too clever and hardly helping at all. But at least he keeps out of trouble. Counts for something.

Funny to see how Mascha is being more and more resourceful. Hell, if it were up to me I’d put her in his place in a heartbeat. Sadly, it’s not. So right now I guess it’s down to trading information and trying to have her back where I can. Think that helps Jason as well.

Now there’s something to make a guy think: Bruni called me a friend of his family. It’s odd that I actually feel honored. I never felt honored about much before. Only… I managed to screw up with his wife. Well – not screw up, technically. I have an opinion. One that is considered to be a flaw. Even understandably so. I just can’t see a way to alter it. So how am I to change this flaw she finds in me? Unless I were to talk to my siress in hopes of finding something that I actually can respect. Which is pretty damn hard, lady!

Gives me an idea though…

Die Sonne war noch nicht lange untergegangen. Das Dach des Hochhauses war noch warm unter seinen bloßen Füßen. Der Sommerwind trug noch die Wärme des Tages durch die junge Nacht.
Nathaniel hatte die Hände tief in den Hosentaschen vergraben. Er war anderorts schon viel unbekleideter gewesen. Hier im Sommer eine Jeans zu tragen war trotzdem fast zu viel, auch wenn da sonst nichts war. Nur die Augenklappe. Immer die Augenklappe.
“Triff mich auf dem Dach.” Das hatte in der Nachricht gestanden. Nichts sonst. Trotzdem war klar gewesen wer ihn hierher beordert hatte. Andernfalls hätte er andere Kleidung gewählt, wenn auch nur um einem anderen Besucher fälschlich zu suggerieren, dass er bewaffnet war.
Nun war er also hier. Früher als der andere. Wie zu erwarten war.
Es dauerte eine Weile bis hinter ihm die Tür zum Treppenhaus aufging und die Person die ihn hergebeten hatte ihm hier auf dem Flachdach Gesellschaft leistete. Ohne sich umzudrehen murmelte Nathaniel vor sich hin. “With you I always feel like falling. That never really changed. Not since then.”
Die andere Person sagte nichts.
“You always said I will be the end of you.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“You always have, Nathaniel.”
Der Toreador drehte sich um. Sein Gegenüber blickte ihn ruhig an. “I am never wrong.”
“You have been before.”
“No.”
“You still find it in you to trust.”
“No.”
Ein Lächeln baute eine unsichtbare Schlucht zwischen ihnen. “You are a very bad liar, child.”