Étienne was demanding those first few days. Because of Casey’s fame, he said that Casey had to assume a new identity, and helped him set it up. That’s how Caleb Walsh was born. It was as deep of an identity as Étienne was able to procure for him, and, Casey was assured, would hold up to scrutiny.
The next steps, Étienne directed, were to transfer his assets over to the Caleb identity. They worked with a shady lawyer who, for a price, would backdate the legal paperwork for Caleb to have been a business partner, and to acquire Casey’s property in Montréal. Next, was to fake the death of Casey Beauchamp.
Étienne had given suggestions, but made it clear something needed to be done soon, since as of present, he was considered missing.
I’m not ready to die, he’d kept thinking. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew that this needed to be done. Étienne supplied a body, that they then dressed similar to Casey, including a jacket Casey often wore. But from there, Étienne’s help had stopped, and he ordered Casey to take care of the rest.
It bothered him, handling a corpse. But he didn’t see it as having a choice. Knowing that the body would be able to easily be identified after the fact, in solitude and alone with the corpse, he did what he could to negate the identification. Namely, he pulled out the teeth so that dental records couldn’t be used as part of the identification process. Identifying features, such as the face and any tattoos, were burned, and then the body dumped, his wallet on the victim, and the body dumped where it could easily be found.
The fingerprints had been left intact. They had not been forgotten — Casey had thought about burning those too, but there was a part of him that hoped it would be assumed he were still missing, and not dead. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The prints must have never been run, he surmised, when Casey Beauchamp was declared dead — why he was dead, or what had happened, no one knew.
In the interim, Casey and Étienne hold up in a place the Caleb persona had purchased in the Hamptons. It was the working-class West Hamptons rather that the upper crust East Hamptons, but it suited the two of them fine for what Étienne had in store next.
Proper hunting and basic Kindred survival were covered before a bit of Brujah history and what that meant. Mostly though, Étienne drilled Camarilla policy and rules into him, so that he wouldn’t fall into the Sabbat’s clutches.
Casey had been embraced while the Sabbat still held control of the city. This was something Étienne had always been up front about. What he didn’t understand was just what that meant. Initially, anyway. Then, the Battle of New York happened.
After that week, things had begun to fall into place and, gradually, the new Prince was getting to know everyone. Elders first, followed by Ancillae and then Neonates. Fledglings — those unreleased by their sires — were last. Casey was with that last group. The introductions took place over several days, after the Elysium had been established, and the Primogen Council appointed.
Étienne stuck by Casey’s side during introductions, pointing things out here and there. Casey only heard about half, as he studied the Prince. He didn’t know much about the man. The Lion, he was nicknamed, for how he handled things during the Battle. His name was Alexander Drake, and he was a Brujah, which was unusual for a Prince, as far as Casey understood.
He’d sucked in a breath when he first noticed the man a few days prior. He was attractive, appearing to be a few years older than Casey himself. Tall, with dark hair and eyes, and overall rugged good looks. His expression was serious; intently focused on the task at hand.
He wore a tailored black suit jacket over a crisp white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. A black necktie was worn loose and somewhat askew. Black belt, matching pants, and a metal watch on his left wrist completed the look.
Étienne elbowed Casey to pay attention. Drake looked tired, or perhaps bored was more like it. Casey was the last person that needed to go forward, so when it was his turn, Maya, the Harpy, pulled him forward.
“Relax, you’ll do fine.” she whispered to him, before looking at Drake. “Last one, sir.”
Drake nodded to Maya, and she stepped back, leaving Casey to be the focus of attention. Drake gestured for Casey to head up the stairs to the mezzanine. Not everyone and gone to the mezzanine, but some had, so it didn’t cause too much talk. Still, the question of why hung in the air, at least for Casey.
Prince Drake had sat while Casey made his way up. Casey was directed to stop just in front of him, and he tried not to look nervous. After all, if the Prince didn’t grant him leave to live in New York, where would he go? Not everyone that had been here had been permitted to stay. Drake seemed to have a way of seeing through people, by Casey’s observation.
“By now I would hope you’ve been paying attention.” Drake said, a stern yet tired gone to his voice. Or perhaps it was boredom? It was difficult to tell.
“Yes sir.” he replied.
“Name and Clan?” Drake asked.
“Casey Beauchamp.” he answered, deciding that being truthful and not give his cover identity was the best option. “Clan Brujah.”
This caused a raised eyebrow from the Prince, and some murmured voices from down below. Not many, but it seemed his name was recognized.
“Sire?” Drake prompted, more out of curiosity than anything.
“Étienne Bouchard.” came the response.
Drake tapped a finger on the table next to him, mulling things over, or so it appeared.
“Recite the Traditions.” he stated.
Casey took an unneeded breath, and then recited the six Traditions, as Étienne had taught him, and he understood them.
Drake was silent for several moments, and Casey could tell his eyes were scanning the area below the mezzanine, before looking at his Council momentarily, his eyes flicking back to Casey only after confirming something. What, only Drake knew. It was a long pause, and it reminded Casey of those moments when you were waiting for the puck to get into the new after a penalty shot, your heart beating as the seconds stretched into eternity.
“I bid you welcome to my city.” Drake finally spoke. “You are permitted to stay. However, as with everyone else, you must find a coterie. No exceptions.”
With that Drake leaned back in his chair, and dismissed Casey, who promptly headed for the stairs and back to his sire.
“Congratulations.” Étienne said. “Now, go work on finding your coterie.”
“Aren’t you…” he began, but he was cut off.
“No. You’re on your own now. Find at least one other person. You’re a likeable enough guy. Just be careful about who you choose. I’ll still be around for advice. But I can’t be your mentor.”
Casey blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that, but he nodded, and walked away, eyes scanning the room before they landed on the only friend he’s managed to make — Maddie. Somehow, no one approached him as he made his way across to her, nor when they spoke together, agreeing to become a coterie. After, however, a woman approached him.
She was shorter than his 5’11”, and only a little taller than Maddie’s 5’6”. She was dressed in a black tailored suit, fitted at the waist, an ivory blouse beneath; the pencil skirt free of wrinkles, and the clack of her heels drowned out by the voices in the room. Ash blonde hair worn elegantly, and symmetrical features completed the look. Gray-blue eyes met his hazel ones as she approached, and held out a hand.
“Pleasure to meet you.” she began. “My name is Charlotte Devereaux.”
“Likewise.” he said, taking her hand, unsure what to expect.
“It’s such a pity.” she said with a bit of a tsk.
“What is?” he asked.
“That you ended up Brujah. Personally? I thought you’d make an excellent Ventrue.” she said with a smile.
Casey withdrew his hand. “How would you know that?”
“Silly boy. I was poised to embrace you. That brute Étienne just happened to get to you first.” she stated.
“Oh. Um..did you want something?” he posited.
“Yes. I wanted to see if you’d join my coterie. I could teach you proper. All you’d have to do is denounce your sire.” she said with a smirk.
“I appreciate the offer…but I’ve already got my coterie.” he said.
She tskd again. “Pity. Well, if you change your mind, just ask for me. I’ll be around.”
When her back was turned, Casey made a face and sighed. He spent some more time in Elysium, before leaving to head back home. It was a long drive to get back to the Hamptons, and when he did get back, he looked into purchasing a property within the city. Eventually, he settled on a three-story brownstone to his liking, and put in a cash offer, as Caleb Walsh.
When that got approved a few days later, he put his current house up for sale, and moved into the brownstone a month later. He offered Maddie space there if she needed it, but that was declined, so he lived on his own.
He fell into a routine, and became comfortable with it. When alone though, he would often think of his past or, in particularly lonely nights, he’d think about Prince Drake, and sketch him out. It was the eyes that fascinated him, so he regularly drew Drake’s face, either with its typical expression, or what he guessed a smile or genuine happy expression might look like.
There were times too, when day approached, that he found himself daydreaming of the Prince. He never once thought those dreams would come true, but he allowed himself to dream nevertheless.
While some might recognize the continuance of a crush what would never co me to fruition, Casey saw it as a sort of lifeline. He never told anyone about it, but gradually, the more he dreamed and the more he sketched, it helped him realize he needed to come out of the closet finally, and find someone to share his life with.
Even if only for a little while.
Not once did he ever expect it to happen. And now here he was, trying to plan a date for the next time he and Drake had free time, and debate whether to hide his sketchbooks from Alex. He was embarrassed about what he might think, but also curious.
For now…now he was content. At least, to some degree. He was enjoying the time he spent with Alex, as well as the time he was spending with Brandon. But was either sustainable long-term?