[The first part of this is a sequel to part of "The Place Where You Die," but is marked as a different date. This is correct: 1895.]

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
And I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord
Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord, oh Lord

4:37am, 10 June 1895
Manchester, New Hampshire

Clayton slammed the door to his ranch house.

The office at the public house would have to be repaired later. Right now, Clayton was only barely seeing straight.

~I should be out there fighting,~ he thought. ~As I stand here, the Kindred of Manchester are being decimated by a madman. I should have at least killed the messenger.~

~But you were spared,~ another part of his mind argued. ~You were told to go home and stay there for three days. So smear some lamb's blood on your doorpost and let the Angel of Death pass you by.~

~Oh sure, hide and let them all die.~

~Unless you want to join them...yes.~

Well if you told me you were drowning, I would not lend a hand
I've seen your face before my friend, but I don't know if you know who I am
Well I was there and I saw what you did, I saw it with my own two eyes
So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been
It's all been a pack of lies

9:46pm, 25 December 1903
Near Lebanon, New Hampshire

"Lord Fredricksen seems to be doing nicely," Roman Pendragon said, leaning his cane against the edge of the table.

Clayton simply pursed his lips. ~Diabolical brat. To think I have almost two centuries on you, upstart snippet.~ "What do you want, Roman?"

Pendragon smirked and looked from the window back to Clayton. He tsked. "Far too businesslike. You really shou--"

Clayton frowned and cut off the Brujah. "Get down to it, Roman." ~How far can I push him?~

The other vampire's lips curled as if to retort angrily, his face reddening. His lips grew pale as teeth jammed into them. He struggled to retain control. "I want it back, Clayton."

~Quite a bit, it seems. If he had wanted me dead, I would be so. Perhaps I am worth more to him alive.... It seems to keep the Justicars off his back.~

Clayton smirked, calculated to aggravate Pendragon just a bit more. "So why are you asking me?"

Pendragon leaned forward and put his hands on the table. He was playing his trump card. "Because I know how much you hate Albert Fredricksen."

Clayton nodded and thought about Pendragon's words. Outwardly, anyhow. Inwardly, Clayton laughed. ~And there it is. He doesn't want to take on both Fredricksen and me.~ "Go on."

Pendragon sighed. "He clearly has his eye on Praxis. I can see that. You can see that. Bloody Caine himself can see that. And he thinks he's entitled to it. But he's too cowardly to take it just yet: it was only eight years ago that he was a wailing, blubbering mess at my feet." Clayton remembered the week after the slaughter, when he found out that Fredricksen was also spared. Pendragon continued: "It's time for the whole mockery to end, Clayton, and I want your help to keep his Ventrue paws off Manchester."

Clayton just shook his head. "Roman. You're the one who left his Ventrue paws /alive/. Eight years ago, you slew every Kindred in Manchester save me and Fredricksen. You all but vanished soon after, leaving us as distant vassals with the Domain in utter chaos, trying to piece together some semblance of Praxis out of the Neonates and wanderers who came in afterward while we lay low. We had to play dutiful Primogen to a distant Prince. And now you want me to help you come back? I hate the Ventrue, yes, but that's just silly." Clayton chose the final word just to needle Pendragon. It was a huge gamble, baiting a Brujah like this, but he was bargaining that Pendragon did actually need some support, or at least non-interference, from Clayton--a living Clayton.

Pendragon's eyebrows went up, just as Clayton predicted. "Silly? Oh, Clayton, I'm afraid you are underestimating me again. You see, you get something out of the bargain that you should take seriously.

"You see, you shall be Prince once more. Over a Domain protected by the finest fighting forces in New England, with no Primogen Ventrue to give you trouble. How silly does that sound?"

And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
Well I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord
I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
And I've been waiting for this moment all my life, oh Lord, oh Lord

11:32pm, 6 January 1904
Concord, New Hampshire

Merry Christmas, Roman Pendragon.

Clayton chuckled as he watched the fighting from across the street. ~I'm glad I got the chance to help you once more, Roman.~

It was indeed sad that some of the mortal politicians Pendragon was trying to influence had to be killed, but he needed to be cast out by the roots.

Roman Pendragon had covertly swept into Concord with promises of support and aid from Clayton. Pendragon realized something was amiss when every single 'safe house' his soldiers were staying in during the day burned down mysteriously.

Apparently Albert Fredricksen and the other Kindred of New Hampshire had 'somehow' found out about Pendragon's covert operations, and acted swiftly to cut them off utterly and finally. Even though they were outnumbered, the few Gangrel who had settled in the state proved very effective at guerilla fighting. The Rowlands Family, who had been out of state with the when the decimation occurred, were more than happy to give their aid. Even Aaron and Cassandra, who returned from their trip with the Rowlands to find their Havens naught but smoking ruins, picked up arms to fight.

Roman Pendragon had seriously underestimated what he was dealing with in New Hampshire. Clayton doubted he would ever make the same mistake again.

Well I remember, I remember, don't worry, how could I ever forget
It's the first time, the last time we ever met
But I know the reason why you keep your silence, oh no you don't fool me
Ooh the hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows
It's no stranger to you and me

5:16am, 2 February 2009
Manchester, New Hampshire

Clayton--

I remember.

I am back for what is mine.

I will not make the same mistake I did in 1895.

RP

Clayton crumpled the note up, but did not throw it away. It wasn't even worth using psychometry on: he knew Roman's state of mind when he wrote it.

Clayton frowned. Now he was being called out.

Fine then. You've underestimated me twice, Roman. Why not three? Sure, a couple of Generations gives you some edge, but a couple of centuries can weigh pretty heavily against that.

It's time, Roman. You just had to push it, didn't you?

Oh now feel it comin' back again
Like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind
Forces pullin' from the center of the earth again
I can feel it

[Lyrics: "In the Air Tonight" by Phil Collins, and "Lightning Crashes" by Live]