England – London – Piccadilly Circus

Alice hung up the phone.

It was one of the older models, perhaps three or four years out of date. The kind with a big antenna, huge battery. Built before every city was covered in cell towers. But that meant it got great reception. More juice, more signal. It worked out in the country, in places where a modern deck-of-cards style phone would just crap out. Places where Alice needed to be in touch. She didn't mind the extra weight, and she definitely didn't mind suits dismissing her for being behind the times.

The phone slipped form her hands, falling to the ground. It bounced once, twice, on the ground, thick battery unit separating from the body of the phone. A young business man stooped down to pick it up for her, slicked back black hair, sharp nose, a late night at the office. He smiled at her as he handed back the two pieces of the phone. A simple look told him exactly how interested she was in speaking to him. The last thing she needed was some guy with a fetish for disabled women.

It only took her a few moments for the memories to return. At least some of them were still with her. In her mind she was on the deck of the Windfarer. It was her last day. It always was. The wind had been light for March, cold, bitingly cold, but certainly no storm. From the west, pushing her further out to sea. She had considered letting the wind take her and her small ship. Push her to France, maybe as far as Denmark. She had enough food and water to make the trip, make it as far as Stetin maybe, but the sun was setting. The wind was blowing colder. Her father would be pretending not to worry. He never let her see him worry. But something else had called her… west, towards the setting sun. Had called her back to London.

And Alice had been called back again. She had been in his city of rain and shit for the past three months. God damn it. When would he be finished with her? She didn't even know exactly what they talked about. She just awoke knowing she had talked to him, her sire, Caissius Germanicus. Knowing roughly what they had talked about, what he wanted from her, what she had told him. But never knowing how much time had passed. That simple courtesy was, apparently, entirely foreign to him. But it was always at least a week. Some times longer, but always a week, gone….

He took his face from her as well. The memory of that floated just out of reach, in that corner of her mind where old dreams lived.

She had to get back to New York.

Cliff had nearly died because she was gone. Which was fine, if he was what she thought he was. Oliver's little court had cleared Cliff, but that just meant her….. friend…. had bought himself some allies. Good for him. She smiled. Oliver's say so had nothing to do with reality. She didn't believe that Cliff's, well, whatever it was, was anything but a power of the Fiends. But that didn't necessarily mean he was one of them. Not necessarily. She shouldn't worry about one Sabbat more or less. Her sire had deeper purposes for her.

But what Cliff said he could do. What he had just told her was finally possible… Alice couldn't take the risk that he was telling the truth.

Besides, Caisius needed eyes in New York. The disaster there had surely changed the political climate. And if what Lucinde's had told Caissius was true Julia said that Celeste… well, Celeste would need to be dealt with. Sometimes the schemes of the elders were nothing but a giant game of telephone. And nobody knew where fucking Jan was. New York city was the only place Caissius hadn't looked.

Caissius… needed her…. in New York… as soon as possible. Right.

After a few tries she flagged down a cab. The Lanesborough first, to pick up her things. And then Heathrow. And then….