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A Clear View

Jeremiah surveyed his city from behind the thick glass windows of the Pinnacle Enterprises building. Fifty-eight floors gave him a lordly view of San Francisco. From where he was standing, he had the illusion that much of it could fit in the palm of his hand. In his imagination he could see himself pruning the city, plucking out bad spots and nurturing the good. Being elected Primogen of Clan Ventrue had given him a lot of things, but perspective most of all.

He raised his right hand and cupped it, as if receiving communion. This close he could feel the vibrations from the gusts of winds that pushed against the cold glass. The same way that others pushed against the boundaries of courtesy and etiquette; of the lawful rules of the Prince.

The open hand closed into a fist. It was intolerable.

Prince Cedric ruled San Francisco. It had been entrusted to him by the Camarilla, but it was his now by right. He’d turned a trouble-spot into a sanctuary.

Going back was not an option. Something would have to be done.

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