Casey studied the man in front of them, a man just a few inches above his own height, with dark hair and olive skin. The man paid more attention to Brandon at the moment before flicking a glance to Casey and back. He opened the door wider, and then stepped aside, and, with a sweeping gesture, welcomed them inside, closing the door behind them as they entered.
As the two other men spoke in a language Casey couldn’t understand, he looked around the room. It was lit by lamps, and one entire wall seemed to be bookcases. On the far end was a hallway leading into the rest of the house, but on the other end was a doorway into what appeared to be a kitchen, judging by what he could see. Comfortable furniture was central to the room, and along the free wall was a mounted television, with a small entertainment center beneath it. Free space on the wall was tastefully taken up by art piece or, in at least one instance, a handful of photographs, all the same person, and not their host.
The room was deceiving, he felt. Everything looked simple, but he had a feeling there was much more to what he saw there. After a few moments of speaking, Brandon and the man whose home they were in, finished speaking, and Casey was addressed.
“Forgive me for not introducing you sooner.” Brandon smiled. “Casey, this is my dear friend Marcus. Marcus, this is Casey.”
“Nice to meet you.” Casey said, offering a hand.
“Likewise.” Marcus said, his dark eyes studying Casey’s blue ones before dropping the handshake. “Please, take a seat. Both of you.”
Casey glanced to Brandon for a moment, and the other man nodded. He took a seat then, with Marcus and Brandon following suit.
Brandon smiled and looked at Casey. “My friend here has agreed to mentor you.”
“Really?” Casey asked, partially in disbelief.
“Indeed.” Marcus said, nodding slightly.
“In what, if I might ask?” Casey inquired.
“Anything you would like. History, philosophy, Disciplines…whatever it may be.” Marcus said.
Casey frowned a little. He had questions, to be sure, but the first was most important. He thought for a bit, then spoke up. “Why would you agree to teach me?”
Marcus’ eyes locked on Casey’s. “Brandon tells me you’re a Brujah.”
“Yeah. Is there a problem with that?” Casey asked, feeling a little annoyed by the comment, but kept himself in check.
Marcus shook his head. “He also tells be you don’t with to be one of the stereotypical Rabble.”
“That’s right.” Casey responded.
“Good.” Marcus sat back, interlacing his fingers in front of him. “I hold no love for the Rabble.”
“What clan are you?” Casey asked.
“Have you ever heard of the schism within the Brujah clan?” Marcus asked, ignoring the question for now.
Casey looked puzzled. “No. What schism?”
“I’m not surprised you don’t know. Not many of the clan do.” Marcus stated.
“Are you Brujah then?” Casey wondered.
“No. I am a True Brujah.” He held up a hand, stopping Casey before he could speak again. “I’ll tell you about the schism. Then you will understand.”
Casey sat back then, listening.
Marcus looked over at Brandon momentarily. “I know you’ve heard this before. I hope I don’t bore you.”
“Not at all old friend.” Brandon stated simply.
Marcus began. “Ilyes was the progenitor of our clan; our Antediluvian, if you will. He was a fiercely logical create, dispassionate in the extreme – a trait most True Brujah share. Our clan was the Learned Clan, scholars, primarily. At one point in time, Ilyes embraced a passionate youth by the name of Troile, who would later rise up and commit anathema on Ilyes.” he paused a moment “Diablerie, the modern term is. The True Brujah are the descendants of Ilyes, while the modern Brujah are the descendants of Troile, inheriting their temperament.”
He learned forward, resting his elbow on his knees for a moment. “Tell me about yourself. How old are you? What were the circumstances of your embrace? What was your education and profession?”
“I’m twenty-eight.” Casey began. “I was embraced four years ago, a little before the Battle of New York. My sire approached me after a hard game and embraced me. He said he saw something in me, though is cagey about what. As for my profession, I was a professional hockey player, but I did attend university for psychology.”
“Ah, brains and brawn. Not the worst combination.” Marcus said with a smile.
Brandon piped up just then, his voice calm, but stern. “Meus est, Marce.” (He’s mine, Marcus)
“Of course, of course.” Marcus said, then turned his attention back to Casey. “How far did you get with your studies?”
“I had some schooling beyond obtaining my Bachelor’s of Science.” he admitted.
“Why hockey?” he asked.
“My father played in the minors. Honestly he pushed me into it. Got me started skating young, and I grew to love it. I was—am—talented, but I haven’t been able to play since I had to fake my death. I enjoyed it while it lasted.” he said, sighing a little.
“What is your surname? I might look you up later.” Marcus admitted.
“Beauchamp.” Casey replied.
“French?” Marcus asked.
“Québécois.” he corrected.
Marcus nodded, then got up. “Wait here.”
Casey watched as he got up and left down the hallway, disappearing around a corner.
“I rather think he likes you.” Brandon said, startling Casey for a moment. Brandon chuckled in response.
“He’s…” Casey paused, trying to think how best to phrase things. “Different. Do you really think he can help me with my goal?”
“I do.” Brandon nodded.
“Is he like you?” Casey asked.
“Sabbat?” he shrugged. “He fits in where he feels it’s best for him.”
About this moment, Marcus returned. “Take this.” he said, holding out something small and shiny.
Casey took it from him, looking it over. It was an old gold coin, imperfect in its shape, but embossed with a familiar face. He looked up at Marcus, and back to the coin. “Who are you?”
“It’s Roman.” Marcus explained. “Hold on to it—you may need it someday.”
“Really, Marcus.” Brandon chided, though he seemed more amused than upset. He turned his attention to Casey. “He goes by MArcus AStor these days, but he’s more famously known as Marc Antony.”
“He may need it some day.” Marcus proffered. He sat back down, and turned to Casey, watching as he pocketed the coin after a moment of shock.
“So what is the goal Brandon mentioned I could help with?” he asked.
Casey thought carefully before speaking. “I don’t want to be seen as a Brujah that flies off the handle. I want to be seen as reliable; someone who controls his beast rather than unleashing it. A Thoughtful enforcer, so to speak.”
“I see.” Marcus stated, then looked over at Brandon. “I think I can work with that.”
“I should hope so.” Brandon said.
Casey studied the two men in their silence, eyes locked upon each other for a moment, before turning away. There was some tension there. Not romantic. He mulled it over before coming to a conclusion: Marcus must owe Brandon something. The weight of Brandon’s words seemed to bother Marcus, so Casey guessed that it must be a lot.
“Keep the coin.” Marcus reiterated. “But let’s exchange contact information, shall we?” He held out his phone to Casey, and he took i t, handing his over to Marcus. They input their contact information into one another’s phones, and switched them back.
“I should probably get you back, Casey.” Brandon said as he stood.
Casey nodded and stood as well. “Thank you again.” he said, holding a hand out to Marcus.
Marcus took it. “Pleasure to have met you.” then dropped his hand, and led them to the door, seeing them out.
Once outside, Casey looked to Brandon. “Thank you. It’s been a great night.”
“Not what you were expecting?” he smiled.
“Not at all.” Casey replied. “To be honest, I don’t know what I was expecting.”
“I’m glad I could give you such a good evening.” he held out a hand. “Come, let’s get you home.”