8.30 pm, 9 hours until Sunrise. 12 days until The Succubus Club.

Sitting at a corner table, half listening to the band, Izac tried to make sense of the images in his head. 

No, that’s old…

Not that… 

God, not that…

It was hard to tell when the horror of his past ended and the small slither or horror I had planted began.

Is that mine?

You know what, fuck that guy!

His phone buzzed, it was a message to see Mr Giovanni. He read the message and sighed.

Fuck that guy, too! At least for a while.

The coterie was settling down after the excitement of The Dock. Stallion has holed himself up in the Library and had found his favourite Thaumaturgy book.  Mr Giovanni was a room away settled down to the large stack of dossiers they’d found at the bar. There were five kin, some with more detailed write-ups than others. One of the thickest was also the most familiar.

Name: Izac Gee

Date: 2016 –

Location: Ashfield

There was also a Nosferatu named John ‘Rat biter’. It was interesting they’d been able to follow him. Contacts in the clan?

A Ravnos called The Gypsy.  They had the curious ability to make garbage bins into living spaces.

Dr Whiskers’ dossier was full of question marks. The most prominent was his ability to walk in the sun.

And The Statue, reported to move no more than once a week.

Mr Giovanni sent a message to Izac to see him and sat back to read.

I climbed the stairs into the bar, ready to head home. I had my painting under my arm, and as far as I was concerned, I was done with the day. Luna was a few steps behind me, but I could tell she was heading for Izac slouched at a table across the room. Fine…no….good.  Good for them. I’ll go home and put up my new acquisition (I’d literally killed to get it) and try to make sense of the fight.

Fight?  It was more like a dance, a bloody ballet.  A piece of art in its own right. At least what I remembered of it was.

A movement at the bar caught my eye, and I noticed one of the bartenders beckoning us over. 

Sure,  I have to change the order with Bruce anyway, I thought. Noting Bruce’s location in the room, I headed to the bar.

“I’ve seen you two around here a bit. You spend a bit of time with the boss,” she said with a smile over the sound of bass and drums from the stage, “He seems really nice.”

“He’d like us to say he is,” I replied. Giovanni was not the topic I wished to discuss with this stranger. She was kin, though not ‘family’, thank goodness for her. She was young, pert, and eager to make a name for herself.

“I’ve not seen you before. What’s your name?”

“Delith,” She held out a hand to shake, “pleasure to meet all of you. Have you been enjoying my drinks? If you have, could you put a word in the boss?” As I said, eager.

“Sorry, I’m on my way out but it was nice to have met you too.”

“Wouldn’t you like a drink? You look like you could do with one,” and she started mixing something.  I was hungry. It was one of the reasons I wanted to go home. But why eat out when there’s dinner in the basement, right?  Still, it was there, and I could smell it, and Luna was there with me instead of with Izac.  Petty, I know.

“I could, thanks.”

“And you, Luna?”

“No thanks,” Luna was already turning away.  

“I can make it on the house for you,” Delith suggested, pouring my drink and handing it to me. I couldn’t take it seriously. It had a straw. I drank it. It was sweet and cloying, like lollywater, only with the metallic briny kick I needed.

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Luna replied, her spark rubbing against Delith’s pushy behaviour.

“So Delith, where are you from originally?” I asked. My second attempt at shifting the subject, but she was stubborn.

“Mr Giovanni has been good to me.  He’s the sort of boss who likes for people to get their fair share. Don’t you think?”

Oh boy, were Luna and I were the wrong audience.

“Say Luna, have you had your fair share from Mr Giovanni of late?”

“And then some,” Luna added, no longer curious but downright belligerent.

 “No, I mean not like my sire. He had great plans for me, but that didn’t work out. Mr Giovanni gave me this job and an opportunity to prove myself.”
Now we were getting somewhere, “So, who’s your sire? Is he in Sydney?”

Her glance, which had flipped casually between Luna and me, suddenly focused all her attention on me. A shadow passed across her face, or maybe something glimmered in her eye and then was gone.

“Let’s forget about my sire,” She tried waving the thought away.  I could feel something wash over me, and I smirked as I realised she’d tried to pull a Giovanni. 

Luna noticed something, too and looked almost ready to launch herself across the bar.  I laughed out loud as if she’d told a funny joke, and Luna held back from climbing over the stool before her.

“That was funny. Is it my turn now?” I asked as I considered rattling around in her head to see where she wanted her ambitions to take her. But I was still hungry, and besides, I had other things to do. “Bye, Delith.” 

Luna went and sat leaning into Izac, waking him from whatever thought had caught in his head.  Yes, just as it was meant to be.  Izac was startled by the unyielding pressure of Luna crawling under his arm.  Looking down, he noticed she was staring daggers at a bartender chatting with customers.

“What’s up?”

“I just watched that one try to dominate Rain,” She snuggled in, and he relaxed a little. “Sore topic, I know.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to make of that guy.” He looked down at his hands, hoping they’d have the answers. His eyes were drawn to the new flesh still growing on his right hand.

“But still, the night hasn’t been a complete loss. I have a new hand,” He held it up for Luna to inspect.

“Good trick, huh?” she replied, grasping his mottled hand in hers

“Handy, ha!”

“Yeah, very handy when you’re bashed in the face,” Luna’s eyes became distant as she remembered all the times she’d been unable to stop that from happening.

“I try to avoid that,” he smirked, and the light returned to her eyes.

“Then stay clear of Stallion.”

I stormed into the house, a man on a mission. On my way home, I texted Brendan and found he had the night off to schmooze with the influential and fabulous. I could meet up with them but I needed better clothes than ill-fitting hand-me-downs. My first stop was Lenny, to see how he was and drop off the painting.  

“Ah, you couldn’t give me a fix tonight, could you?” He asked eagerly.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid, I’m tapped out.  Sometime between getting dressed and heading out again, I’ve got to get a drink myself.” I confessed without a bit of relief.  After the night’s revelations, I didn’t want Lenny to think I was only his personal vitae on tap.

“Hey, if you want a drink…” He stretched out his arm, the inside of his wrist exposed. 

The irony was not lost on me.  Only the fact that below there were bags of guilt-free blood ready to stay my thirst which held me back from accepting his offer.

“Ah…generous as always but I have something waiting,” I stepped back, watching painedly as he dropped his hand. Quickly, before I could second-guess myself, I ran upstairs and changed.

Izac finally bit the bullet and went to see what the boss wanted.  He figured he’d ask if he could borrow a car while he was up there.  He needed to get out of the bar and fast, hopefully with Luna in the passenger seat.

When he arrived at the office, Mr Giovanni was sat alone with a manila folder in front of him.

“You wished to see me?”

“Yes, Izac, please close the door. Sit down.”  Izac did as he was instructed.  Mr Giovanni sat silently, waiting until the door was closed before handing over the folder.

“At the ghoul’s den we raided tonight, a report was found on you,”

“What?” It had his name on it. Izac flipped the folder open and scanned through the contents. 

Mr Giovanni explained, “They’ve been watching you since 2016.  They knew your association with the werewolves and that you regularly worked at the King’s Hotel.  They even knew that you were called Good Boy by the pack. They knew you were alone with no coterie and even knew your feeding habits, listing you as vegetarian.  The file’s creator seemed to wonder if that would make you taste different.  They had several plans for capturing you, all listed with possible sites.”

Mr Giovanni pulled out a slip of paper with half a dozen different locations. Izac scanned them and shrugged.

“Most of these are guarded or dead ends.”

“Regardless, the five you killed tonight were only a fraction of their number.  I think it’s safe to say that you’ll need to move out of Ashfield. I could set you up here in Leichhardt.”

“Pyrmont seems okay.  No bikies seen out that way.”

“As you wish, I just thought you should know,” Mr Giovanni took back to the dossier.

The office was silent momentarily as both sides of the table assessed each other.

“Ah, thanks for being open with this information,” Izac finally said, sure there was more to Mr Giovanni’s generosity.

“There are many ways to exit these nights but being chained up as blood supply for feral ghouls is not the best way.  Still, it seems your nickname has stuck.  You are the Good boy.”

Izac sat up a little taller in his chair.  He wasn’t ashamed of his name. He’d earned it.

“While we’re speaking with complete transparency, could I ask your intentions with the werewolves?”

“Moving goods is my business.  If I can do that easily or even possibly expand into new areas, that is good for business.  You don’t have to agree with everything I do…”
“…and I don’t…”
“…but you can rely on me to look for new opportunities.  As we speak frankly, do you know the name of the pack you talk to?”

Izac knew of two by name, the Glasswalkers and the Bone Gnawers. Both were good people as far as he was concerned.

“The Glasswalkers.”

“Ah, good,” Mr Giovanni nodded approvingly, “I caution you against dealing with the Black Spiral Dancers. They’re based in King’s Cross, so they’re easy to avoid. They worship a being…of entropy.”
“Not fun people, “ Izac agreed.

I was just about ready to go.  Now my favourite suit was gone. I was wearing a black slimline, with satin jacquard print roses throughout.  I’d just reached the bottom of the stairs when there was a knock at the door. I opened it automatically, expecting to deal with the visitor quickly and be on my way. At first glance, that seemed to be the case.  In a neat t-shirt and jeans, he was the epitome of a local though I was sure he was not one of my neighbours.

“Good evening, my name is Francesco. I’ve come to inspect your building,” he said, clipboard in hand as if from a Realty’s office.

“Ah, there must be some mistake,” I smiled, “This residence is not rented.”
“Oh, we’re not here for the building, but what’s under it,” he replied, politely assured.

“I assure you that was is under my house is also my business,” I added, flicking on Auspex to be assaulted by colours.  Rose of generosity and violet of excitement rolled and broiled around him in vibrant curls.  He was no Kin.  I’d only seen one like it before several months ago. The giant werewolf dingo called Teeth of Titanium.

“I agree.  Possibly, if you let me in, we can speak more frankly?”

“I’m afraid I’m on my way out…”

“And leaving your two companions alone…though,” He sniffed the air, only reminding me further of the mechanical beast, “though one seems to be a runt.  Not much of a meal there.”

There was nothing for it. I was alone.  I widened the door and let Francesco in without making a scene on the footpath.  As they passed, I caught a glimpse of their clipboard and saw the word ‘Iliad’.  As I closed the door, I placed a concise message for Luna.

SOS!

“What was that?” Francesco pointed to my pocket, and I swore inwardly. There was a time when I could do that little sleight of hand without being detected.  I should have taken that as my second warning, but I wanted out of there.

“I was on my way out.  Just letting friends know I’m delayed.”
“I hope your friends aren’t lawyers,” He replied smoothly.

I had no idea how a lawyer would be useful in this situation, so I brushed it off.

“You mentioned we earlier.  What is the name of your company? What do they do?” I asked as he looked around the gallery and down the hallway.

“We’re a conglomerate, into making better people, chemical enhancements…” He replied, completely dismissing everything around him, including me. “What’s below?”

“As I said, downstairs is my business.” Maybe it was just being ignored in my own home, maybe whatever ran for adrenaline in our blood was still having an effect, but I could feel my knife’s sheaths pressed against my back. We’d just whirlwinded through a bunch of ghouls, what was one lone werewolf.

He knew better.

“You are fresh and feisty, aren’t you?  You don’t want to do that,” He said as his bright friendly auras never diminishing. He was dealing with me like a snappy puppy.  One fight, and I thought I could take on the world? I relaxed, and he continued. “What you have in your basement is very interesting to my…company.  We’d like to enter into a business arrangement with you.”

“Is this some sort of shakedown?” I shook my head, making no sense of what he was saying. What would a werewolf know about the speakeasy? And more to the point, what would they want with it? “This is not the best night for this.  Can you speak plainly about what your business is?”

“Is there a more private space we can talk in?” He looked around again, “away from windows.”

Sensible. I glanced into the kitchen, aware that Blanco and Lenny were only a paw swipe away. I took him up the stairs.

The creaking of the stairs and the balistrades groaning made me turn around halfway up and look back at Francesco. No longer was there a six-foot-tall man but a thirteen-foot-tall monster of spines and rubbery grey skin.  It was something out of Doctor Who except truly dangerous and breathing down on me.

“Now that we’re speaking plainly, please can we go downstairs?” I don’t know how he spoke around his teeth without lacerating his face.

“I don’t know how I would stop you,” I replied honestly, doing everything in my power to avoid running in terror. We walked back down the stairs. It was more disturbing to watch the process of turning back into Francesco. I think it was the spines. I led him to the door under the stairs.

He spent some time sniffing around, touching the stone of a wall on the floor, and chatting about “resonance” and “reaching through the deep.” It was all nonsense to me. I needed Luna or Izac or even Mr Giovanni.
“This looks very promising. I’d happily offer you a finders fee of $5000 upfront. We’d expect to use the space but we’d arrange our times with you, and we shouldn’t need it for more than an hour at a time. Of course, we’ll want access day or night, but if we breach any of our conditions, we’re willing to pay a fee of $10,000.” Words I understood, but what for?  To have werewolves tramping through my house?  I needed advice.

“Ah.  Sounds good to me, but do you mind if I make a phone call?”

“Would it be fine if I just poke around here for a moment while you do?” 

“Poke away,” I said, climbing the stairs back to the hallway. From the door, I watched as Francesca, the human, cut his wrists and made the stone shimmer with his blood.

“Yes, Rain,” Mr Giovanni prompt on the phone as usual.

“Mr Giovanni, I’m here at Pyrmont with a werewolf named Francesco. He’s very keen on hiring my basement.  He’s spoken a great deal about resonance and reaching through to the deep.  He’s currently splashing blood around and making the stonework shimmer.  Does any of this make sense to you? I have no idea and I could do with some advice.”

“I see.  Listen carefully.  Quietly agree to whatever he offers, and as soon as it is convenient, take Lenny and the dog and come to the Crowbar.”

It sounded good to me.  

“Right, we’ll be right there.” I hung up and returned down the stairs.

By this time, the shimmering had started leaking auras.  A myriad of colours, from light blue and vermillion to silver, black and brown.  Any emotion you could imagine coalescing into a cloud around Francesco and crawling up the walls. As I walked up, he plunged his hand into the wall as if into a pool of shimmering water.  I wanted to keep watching this magical wonder before me until a wisp of profound red aura snaked towards me.

“Francesco?” I stepped back as the cloud seemed to cling to me, and I was horrified to hear a voice.

Delicious, wasn’t it, the death, the killing?  Yes, you should take what’s yours.  Brandon…yes, don’t let anyone take him away from you.

“Ah, I see one has picked you,” Francesco looked at me with interest as I stumbled backwards, trying to free myself of the aura.

“Ah, I’m happy to accept your terms, Francesco.  I look forward to hearing from you in the near future.” I was tripping up the stairs now. 

“Good. I’ll leave the contract then. Thank you for your time,” he said, turning back to the shimmering pool on the wall, he stepped through, and disappearing. 

I stood watching as the light disappeared from the portal, slowly replaced by what I had always thought of as solid stone walls. The auras faded as well but the sinister voice was still at the back of my eyes. Something very bad had just happened, and I had no idea what was going on. Heeding Mr Giovanni’s words, I collected the dog and roused Lenny, and fled the house for the Crowbar.

Luna, alone in the bar, received my message. Izac was still talking to Mr Giovanni upstairs, so she crossed the bar and headed for the office door.  

“I know little more about the Black Spiral Dancers. Suffice it to say, it is in our best interest to stay clear,” Mr Giovanni had just finished saying as his phone rang. A rapping knock at the door told them Luna was on the other side.

“Could you please get the door, Izac?” Mr Giovanni asked. “I have Rain on the phone.”

Izac opened the door to Luna, clutching her phone as Mr Giovanni took my call.

“I just received an SOS from Rain,” she said as the door closed.

“Yeah, it’s him on the phone.  What’s he want help with now?” He sighed.  

“It’s more he needs help,” Luna corrected as they waited for Mr Giovanni to finish the call.

“I see.  Listen carefully.  Quietly agree to whatever he offers, and as soon as it is convenient, take Lenny and the dog and come to the Crowbar.” He glanced at the others as I rang off, “Hopefully, he’s doing what he is told.”

“He’s not good at that, “ Izac scoffed bitterly, “What’s he done now?”

“From his SOS, I’d think he’d be at least paying attention.”

“He has allowed a twelve-foot-tall humanoid werewolf into Pyrmont.”
“What?”

“Izac, have the werewolves shown any interest in Pyrmont since you’ve been there?”
“No, not that I know of.”

“What was the nature of his business at your place?” 

“It’s with the Nosferatu.” Luna provided. 

 “A bar?”

“It was a deal we made.”

“Bad idea having a business in your home, “ Mr Giovanni stood, walking to his library,” I wonder if there’s any history of mass murder in the Pyrmont area.”

Stallion was still there, making tortuous sense of his Thaumaturgy studies. 

“You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking…”
“Glad to hear you can…” The quip proceeding Luna into the library.

“…I was thinking about Rain’s friend, Brendan.  What if the night before the Succubus Club, right, we get them super pissed and then…they just won’t go.”

“I see the answer to all life’s problems. Alcohol.”

“I believe even the Kine have cures for hangovers. Regardless, the performance is locked in and I’m sure at eight million dollars, this Brendan will be there.” Mr Giovanni dismissed Stallion’s plan and opened his filing cabinet. “We have more pressing problems. It seems the Pyrmont property is haunted. We should focus our search on a mass murder site.”

The pieces started falling into place for Stallion, Luna and Izac.

“Ur…how many people died in the basement?” Stallion asked Luna, who looked with wide round eyes up at Izac.

“We don’t see people leave…” 

Izac squeezed his eyes shut as intrusive thoughts flashed before them. “I…I have to go…” he said, as if haunted by the spectres that plagued him. But he stayed, rooted to the spot.

Mr Giovanni stopped searching for the files.

“How many people would you say?” He looked at Luna.

“A number…I don’t know.”

“How many kine walked in?”
“The Nosferatu built a direct tunnel to the basement.  We never saw anyone come or go.”

He closed the filing cabinet, “how long has this been going on?”

“Weeks…maybe a month.”

“It seems our Rain has inadvertently caused a breach,” Mr Giovanni stepped away from the library to be replaced by Luna, searching for information on breaches.

Below, Lenny, still in his painting clothes and I, with Blacno’s lead in hand, arrived at the Crowbar.  Regardless of the reasons, Lenny hadn’t been out to a bar or club in weeks and was looking forward to seeing where I spent so much time. I pulled the cash from my wallet and pressed it into his hand.

“I have to go upstairs and see Mr Giovanni and the others.  You enjoy yourself in the bar.”
“Alright!” He exclaimed, being let loose with so much cash, “Hey, Rain, whatever it is, you’ve got it, okay?”

His confidence in my abilities, misplaced as they may be, was like a balm.

“Thanks, Lenny. I’m just upstairs if you need me.”

We walked in together. Delith was still working the bar and saw us together.  She waved. I ignored her and went straight for the stairs with Blanco in tow. The others were waiting when I arrived.  Luna stood in the library holding a book, La congiura di Issac.  It would have been funny at another time. At another time, I would have laughed from nerves. I was beyond that now.

Without a word, I gave Blanco’s leash to Stallion and found a free chair. 

I told them…everything I could remember about Fracesco and his dealings in the house, the auras I saw seeping through the wall and the one still whispering in the back of my mind. I told them about Francesco leaving through the portal he’d created in the wall and the promised contract to come.  I did it all without my usual theatrics or colour and without looking up from a patch of stained carpet under the desk. Ultimately, I lifted my eyes to see them all silent and still not daring to get closer, “And I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“I need to make some phone calls. If you wish to make yourselves useful, search the library for information on banes and breeches.” Mr Giovanni finally said, and the coterie jumped into action. Stallion headed downstairs to Delif at the bar. 

“Izac, I’d like it if you would take one of the cars and see your Mother Pasta.  Find out what interest, if any, the werewolves have in Pyrmont.”  Mr Giovanni headed to the rack of keyrings on the wall and chose the one for the Ferrari.

“And we’ll talk about seeing the Prince about that business deal?” Izac replied cryptically.

“Drive slowly,” Mr Giovanni nodded and handed the keys over.  

“Where are you going?” Luna spied the keys as Izac turned to leave.

“I’m going to see Mother Pasta.”
“Can I come?”

“You can’t go in!” He replied, horrified that she’d even suggest entering the King’s Arms.

“I can wait in the car.” She suggested with a shrug.

“Well, I guess you could do that.”

She led him down to the carpark, where the Ferrari silently waiting, ready to pounce into life.

“How did you know it was this one?”

“I know the keys. Come on, take me for a ride!”

No one seemed to mind as I left, heading back down to the bar to find Lenny.

“Ur…sorry, Rain,” He said as I sat beside him.

“What could you have possibly done that could be so bad,” I responded with the weight of what was occurring, feeling like a death sentence.

“Well, the barmaid, she seemed nice and asked all sorts of questions about you and then…I don’t know, but I had to tell her…”

So, ambitious little Delith had been busy. I knew. I let it happen, but now Lenny felt terrible.

“Forget her; she’s nobody,” I said, turning to him so we could talk. “Lenny, I can’t tell you what’s going on here but things are bad.  We should talk about an exit strategy for you.”

“What?” He pulled back in horror, “Do you mean…die?”

“NO! No,” I grabbed his hands and pulled them in close, “Think. Are there any distant family or friends that would take you far from here?”

“No, you know that Rain. None want me around,” he said miserably. Please don’t make me leave you. I don’t want to go.”

This time, I did pull him into a hug. We embraced silently for a moment as I gathered the courage to whisper, “I’m in really big trouble this time. I don’t know if…” I never was very courageous.

“Whatever,” he replied, clutching the lapel of my coat in his paint-stained hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mr Giovanni made a few international calls to family members, explaining the issue.  Within the hour, a ghostly figure manifested in front of him. He stood to accept the message.

“What is the word from Venice?”

“Ambrogino comes,” The spectre spoke its voice no more than a whisper.

“I will prepare,” Giovanni replied, and the spectre faded to nothing.  

He picked up his phone. “Bruce, grab Guissepi and meet me upstairs. We have to move quickly. We’re having a visitor.”

10.45 pm, 7 hours until Sunrise. 12 days until The Succubus Club.

*********************************************************************************************

Izac’s thoughts:

 When it Rains

 Blood. 

Rivers of blood flowing from past and present. It was all a haze of images bleeding together ever since we got back to the bar. I had to talk to the cause of it. Furious as I was, I at least wanted Rain to understand his actions would have consequences, and a chance to change. Making the gesture with the gun may have been extreme, but maybe extreme would be the thing to get through to him. 

Deaf ears…

 I can’t get the images out. The flickering image of the crucifixion. The ghoul at my feet slashed open. Back then 

The vampire 

Luna 

The vampire

 Luna

 Joel 

Stallion 

Mads

 Luna 

Rain 

Alex 

Izac…

 A possible future. An end result of my purpose. The snakes continue to coil, squeezing closer. No more breath, trapped in a grip of someone who won’t let go, until I’m consumed. I need to do this; I owe it to too many. 

Is it enough?  

Will anything be? 

“Izac!”

—  

I hadn’t even noticed Luna join me at the bar, anchoring me back to reality. She seemed to be unimpressed with the staff behind it. It appears we all needed a little reprieve from the events of tonight. Rain was nowhere to be found and Stal had disappeared somewhere in the place. I thought maybe a drive would distract us for a while, that was until I noticed the message Giovanni had left me. 

Turns out I was on the menu for the now very dead biker gang. The profile was extensive. Not so much to expose you but they had enough on me to pick a time and place to have their way. 

“You’ll have to stop visiting these places” he cautioned. Noted, but old habits die hard and if some ghouls will stop me from seeing them then I wasn’t really a good friend, was I? He has offered me a place to stay at the bar, he wants me close it seems. I don’t know how to interpret the gesture or whether I’ll take it up. Its practical and works out for us, but at the same time, I can’t just leave  

Ill think about it, in the meantime I’ve asked for Giovanni to set up another meeting with the Prince and he has agreed to join me. It’s a risky play but given current developments: If you can’t be invisible… 

We are all in the library at the moment, Stallion included, diligently pouring through the books by his side. It’s the same book from before our encounter with the Marauder. Not sure what it is, but in this library, it could be anything from a romantic novella to an instructional on child sacrifices. I’ll have to ask him when I have the time what has caught his attention. He has kept to himself as of late and I’d hate to think I’ve forgotten him. But once again more pressing matters are at hand. 

Turns out Rain had a run in with a Black Spiral Dancer. From what I overheard from the phone sounds like a deal was made at the house. Must have been bad, it even had Giovanni spooked. Werewolves, not from Mothers pack but another that harbours far more violent tendencies. If he has played his cards wrong, Rain would be a stain, joining the rest of them in the basement. I should’ve said something about the whole affair a while back. Having a BYO system down there was always going to lead to mass grave. If they had waited opening to the Nosferatu until they got the supply maybe that could’ve been avoided. It’s all hindsight but being preoccupied with more pressing concerns of yours has started to dull me to others. Was this what he was worried about before? Did he suspect something, or someone was going to inevitably show up? Why obfuscate that. We all live there we should know about the risks. I understand timidity but this is something else. 

It doesn’t sound good, it’s entirely possible the whole place will need to be torched to rectify the damage. We have a little time, and the person with better answers about the Dancers isn’t far. Maybe there is another way to fix this. Old friends will have to wait for another night…  

*********************************************************************************************

Luna’s Thoughts

Outlier(s) 

Nothing is right. 

It is not the blood on her clothes. 

It is not the change weighing her pockets down. 

It is not the minor slits on her hands from brash glass causing precise cuts. 

Luna has no words to describe it. These feelings. It’s not that she is skewed but the surrounding area is. 

She does not know how to decipher the grim on the streets or the squeaking of the city rats. She has instinct but too much pride. The voice has been screaming at her for a while. The voice that originates from her gut. 

It’s the hand of the wind that turns the wrong way and pulls at the hairs on your arms until they spike. The eyes of the unknown aiming for the back of your neck. The presence that makes you flick your sight to the corners of your vision just to check. 

She’s a Bitch, remember? She knows when the pack is closing in. Some tell you they mean no harm as they bare their teeth. Others lick their lips because they know what’ll happen next. Some simply watch. 

The clock’s click click clicking. 

Luna’s been ignoring the signs. Always has, always will. 

“We’ve gotta bounce!” 

She is not here. There is nowhere to run to. No one to run with. 

Such a rook move, being stuck on this side of the chessboard all alone.

 Is this not what she’s always done? Running away when the heckles on the back of her neck rise. More than one thing is hunting her now. These clothes aren’t hers. The grey halter top, new black jeans and jacket are from the kegs leaking life into empty vessels. They don’t need them anymore anyway.

 The bar is as it always is; moving. The live band playing for a solid gig fill the space between talking, flirting and drinking. 

Izac sits on a stool nursing his thoughts with no beer.

Luna takes the stool next to him. One bar they’re killing people and the next one they’re relaxing in. It’s familiar. It’s completely foreign. 

Izac’s oblivious to the world around him. Only conscious enough to register the reassuring pressure of her knee against his. Luna watches as a bartender flags down Rain’s attention. They speak. She listens from curiosity. The mixologist speaks of their adoptive dad. She’s too engrossed in talking because her measurements are sloppy. Luna may not be an expert but her study in chemistry tells her the balance is all off, a smooth liquid turned to a corn syrup consistency that is equally as over sweetened in taste. She winces for Rain as he takes a sip.

 Rain attempts to ask of the bartender’s sire. Luna flicks her vision to Izac when

“Let’s forget about my sire.” 

It’s a reflex. Her palms flatten against the bar’s counter. Her weight bare on the tips of the footrest on the stool, ready to throw herself over the meek excuse of a protective barrier. 

Who does this nobody think they are to use the power of Dominate on Rain? A hand curls around her bicep. The same thing that had warned about approaching her sire. 

“Watch yourself.” Is all the venom she can reasonably muster in a crowded space. Her body unconsciously moved to rest close to Izac’s. He hasn’t seemed to resurface from his thoughts but he’s aware enough to recenter her. 

He drifts. Luna stays as Izac’s tether as Rain leaves and the bar grows more swollen with population and patronage. The thought of following Rain mimics the human experience of anxiousness. 

She never liked Pyrmont. It’s a scene she’ll never fit into. It’s reflected by the state of her room. Pick up a couple of books, take away a dress and it’ll be as if no one had ever moved in. The sharp points of her crescent moon pendant push into the delicate skin of her clenching hand. 

“Where’s Rain?” 

A look of confusion crossed her features. There was obvious tension between the two, Izac couldn’t possibly be concerned. 

“He left some time ago,” she can’t tell if the reassurance is misplaced. 

“I want to go for a drive. Get away for a while,” she traced the movement of his finger tossing already rattled hair.

“I could go with you?” She can’t tell if it’s an offer or a plea.

 Izac agrees before a text message lights the once black void of his phone screen. He gives her permission to look as well. 

‘We should talk the ghouls had a file on you.’ 

An exposé? 

“Wait for me by the stairs.” 

She does until a text pulls her into action.

 ‘A problem at home?’

 It’s an SOS from Rain. Useless. 

*** 

Luna would only be rewarded a participation award for all the minuscule achievements she’s ever attained.

 It’s the anxiety talking. 

She’s scared. 

Scared enough she’ll tear herself apart to feel a semblance of put together. 

Rain is scared.

 Izac wants to get away from here. 

Dominic is so out of his depth he asks the family for help. 

And Stallion’s is as aimless in the search for answers like the rest of them. 

I mean what are they to do, knowing a 5th Generation Vampire will grace them with their presence because they, in the most obvious of terms, fucked up?

 “Giovanni I would like to borrow a car. I have a question to ask Mother Pasta.” Izac’s voice breaks the tense atmosphere. 

Luna returns The Chronicles of Isaac to the bookshelf. She can’t read Italian fluently yet anyway. She’s beside Izac by the time a familiar set of keys is passed from Giovanni’s hand to his, a certain smirk on the father figure’s lips.

 “Take a nice slow drive.”

Once they hit the pavement of the garage her hand grasped Izac’s. Luna pulls him through the maze of cars. Their bodies barely missing sharp turns going just too fast to make any change in direction a chance to be on the crux of collision.

 “Luna!” He was worried she might cause him to fall but she had him. 

I mean, he just has to see this car. 

She says as much with, “you have to see this car.” 

Giovanni is a man of many things. One of those things is having an immaculate taste in cars. 

Luna pulls him in as they approach the beauty, taking the keys from Izac’s other hand. 

Her smile is nothing short of devilish as she dangles the keys between herself and the early 1960s Ferrari in high-gloss black.

Notable NPCs

Avel:  Rain’s mother, a wraith.

Beelzebub: Fallen angel and entity in Rain’s pocket watch.

Bobby Lisner: Malkavian seer who lives in an old Sewer pipe in The Rocks.

Brendan Virgil: A.K.A. Miss Divine Intervention.  Rain’s close friend.

Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni

Cabolut Hazzim: the name given by a vampire who cleared out the homeless at Rain’s old squat

Detective Woodman:  NSW Policed premiere detective and a sufferer of schizophrenia.  He has an assistant currently called Notetaker.

Francis Tuttle: Name given in charge of the investigation into the deaths of homeless in Surry Hills.

Garcia: Sire.  Unknown location.

Giuseppe Giovanni: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni.  Some sort of relative of Mr Giovanni.

Lenny: Rain’s Ghoul and artist friend

Madeline Blackwell: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni, working at the State Coroners Court.

Night Rider: Red-haired vampire?  Works for the Prince.

Pangea: a Nosferatu (tunnel builder)

Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats

Prince Sarrasine (Sar-ras-seen): Toreador Ruler of Sydney*

Sparrow: a Nosferatu of the warren in Pyrmont, closest to home

Teeth of Titanium: Werewolf dingo met in Leichhardt.

Glossary of terms:

Anarchists: a faction of Vampires.  Caused issues in Los Angeles recently, killed the Prince.

Antediluvian: from before the time of the biblical flood.  The third generation that were the progenitors of the thirteen clans of vampires.

Blood hunt:  A process to destroy a vampire who has broken a tradition.  Specifically mentioned in the sixth.

Canaanites: Those descended from Cain, the first murderer and vampire.

Camarilla:  a faction of Vampires closest to the Princes.  Believe in hierarchy and order.

Clan or Bloodline:  From one the 13 antediluvians. 

Marauder: A mage gone mad.  Living in his own pocket dimension that answers to the whim of his broken mind.

Diablerie : the drinking another vampire blood and soul

Favour:  How Vampires pay for things they want or need doing.

Fetter: A place, person or thing that binds a wraith to the Shadowlands.

Ghouls: Servants of a vampire who have been fed vitae.  They are loyal, stronger, more resilient and sometimes show other powers gained from the blood. They must receive the blood at least once  a month  or they return to being human. Can be addictive.  

Hunter:  Members of the Society of Leopold, a branch of the Catholic Church.  Fanatical vampire hunters and killers.

Kin: Vampires, a name among themselves

Kine: Humans

Marauder:  a rouge mage, often mad. They are likely to act in a way that exposes the Otherworld of the Masquerade to exposure. 

Masquerade : The rule that keeps vampire society safe.  Hiding ones nature from the world.

Men in Black: An international unit dedicated to controlling supernatural and alien entities.

Sabbat: a faction of Vampires that believe that the progenitors of the clans will one day awake and eat all their young.

Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.

Vaulderie: A ritual where Kindred swear loyalty to each other.

*Sarrasine, a novella by Balzac.  Sarrasine is a sculpture who is infatuated with an Opera Singer, Zambinella. She thinks herself cursed and deflects his advances.  At a performance, Zambinella is revealed to Sarrasine to be a castrato.  In a rage, Sarrasine attacks the singer, only to be cut down and killed by their bodyguard.

1 am, 5 hours until sunrise.  12 days until The Succubus Club

Stallion had expected to be meeting with Mr Giovanni in his office. After Luna’s weirdness early in the night and my insistence that Mr Giovanni was out for revenge, the walk down the stairs to the subbasement room gave Stallion pause.  Was he going to share in our communal punishment?

When he entered, the room was dark. He could just see the three figures outside the circle of light illuminating a leather-topped desk. All three figures rose as Stallion entered, and Giussepi beckoned him to a chair waiting empty.

“Stallion, thank you for coming.  We’re very excited to see you.  The others have been treating you well?” Mr Giovanni asked graciously, making Stallion feel at ease.

No punishment.  Just business, as promised.

“Well, Mr Giovanni…that is apart from Rain.”

“Oh? What’s Rain doing?” Mr Giovanni looked concerned and leaned forward into the light.  It made dark shadows under his eyes and nose.  It made him look like a monster.  He would have to remember that trick. 

“Don’t worry about it.  I’m sorting it out.”

“Well, regardless.  You’re here today because we have a proposition for you.  As your adoptive sire, I take an interest in seeing all of you are set up for your unlife.  Your…siblings have their pursuits.  I have found you trustworthy, so I am pleased to offer you a unique opportunity.”

Mr Giovanni leaned back into his chair, back into the darkness around the table, and gestured to Guissepi, who was sitting to his left. 

“Guissepi’s moving up, taking control of…some of our assets, and he is in need of a right-hand man.  It will be the same position Bruce has with me.  A lot of legwork, bodies in the water, cleaning up evidence.  I understand you have committed larceny in your past?”

“A couple of break-and-enters,” Stallion replied cooly, never expecting that experience to come in handy at a job interview.

“As I suspected.  You have the raw skill for what’s required.  Bruce and Guissepi will show you the ropes.  You’ll be part of the family.  One of us. So, what do you say?”

Stallion had never seen himself as one of the corporate types.  Sure, he was wearing a suit now, but the idea of being part of a huge business had never been his ambition.  He saw himself as more freelance.  Take the jobs that appeal when they appeal and leave the dirty work of cleaning up to the hired help.

“It sounds like a good offer, Mr Giovanni, but I might not be sticking around.”

“This is a new sideline for us, Stallion.  Narcotics.  You’ll have access to grow houses, the farm, labs, the works.  We’d just take 15-20% off the top, and you keep the rest.”

“What would I have to do?” Numbers weren’t Stallion’s strong suit, but he figured that meant 80-85% of the money made would be his.

“You need to keep yourself safe, keep the supply moving. It will be your business, eventually. In twenty years, you’ll be the boss.   And remember, you’ll be learning on the job.  Bruce and Guissepi have a lot to teach.”

It all sounded pretty good to Stallion.  But he was the winter wolf right, the one alone?  Did he really want to hang around for twenty years like some slave to the man?

“Ah, I currently have other things to attend to. Can I ask for some time to think?”

“We think you’d be a great addition to the business.  You have great long-term potential.” Mr Giovanni tried again, and Guissepi nodded along encouragingly. Bruce was a little more reticent, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Stallion looked down at his strong hands.  He had other ideas about what he wanted to do. Stirring the blood that kept him moving and thinking, the nails of his fingers grew into long, sharp claws.

“I haven’t had much of a chance to use these,” he said, displaying his claws in the low hooded light above the desk, “I’d like to see how much damage they do.”

“There are times to use them and when not to,” Mr Giovanni said, dragging his eyes away from Stallion’s clawed hand and back to his childe’s face. “Listen to Bruce and Guiseppi. Let them guide those hands of yours. Your unlife begins here.”

Stallion ignored his hands as if five-centimetre-long nails were commonplace and turned his cool, pale eyes back to Mr Giovanni.

“You’ll be glad to hear this, but I’ve won over my beast and realised I’m a vampire.”  The nonsequitur echoed around the concrete-walled room, ”I’ve seen the light.”

“What?” Mr Giovanni scrambled to follow Stallion’s derailed train of thought, “Do you mean sunlight?”
“Yeah, I opened the back door and nearly shat myself. It was all I could do to close the door on one beam of light.”

Mr Giovanni nodded wisely.  He’d had caught the train, “Sunlight is not kind,”

“It was overwhelming. Still, I guess it’s better to know than not. I should make the best of the hand I was dealt, right? Not be some victim of circumstance.” That’s what his Dad had said, right?

“Of course,“ Mr Giovanni again nodded, “It only goes to show you are someone who can learn from life.”

Stallion nodded along with Mr Giovanni. That was him, the practical sort.

“For now, I can see myself working with you,” he said confidently. Who knew what tomorrow or even next week had in store? Who could plan for twenty years from now?

“Now, Stallion. If you don’t see yourself all in, you better not start,” Mr Giovanni warned him in a fatherly tone. “What comes to the family stays in the family. Think about it.”

Stallion decided he would. 

“There’s one more thing I’d like to ask about, if I may?”

“Go right ahead, Stallion.”

“That Detective Woodman fella. I stayed clear like you said, but he’s been adopting a dog a month from that shelter.  What’s he doing with them?”

As if Stallion had told a joke, Mr Giovanni burst into laughter. 

“He’s good entertainment, isn’t he?  Many communities find the adventurers of Detective Woodman a good evening’s entertainment.  You don’t think he’s in control, do you?”
“I don’t know what anyone is capable of anymore,” Stallion said truthfully.  Just amongst his coterie, he’s seen some pretty wild abilities.

“Still, if you start messing with him, don’t get caught!” Mr Giovanni stated, putting a full stop to that conversation. 

“And I’d like to get a carton of tomatoes, please.”

“You can try a late-night grocer,” Mr Giovanni said, once more confused by the apparent nonsequitur. “Can I ask, what for?”

“Hmmm, messing around.”  Stallion grinned.

5.30 pm 13 hours before sunrise.  12 days until Succubus Club

The gentle knock at the front door told me the delivery had arrived. Outside, a nondescript van doubled parked as a scruffy 21-year-old trundled three boxes into the hallway. 

“For Mr Rain?” He asked, confirming the delivery was correct.

“Just Rain, and thank you.” I gave him a $10 bill, which he eagerly pocketed.

“Thanks,” He said, running back to the van where the driver moved off, and I was left with three boxes of blood to move downstairs.  I tried picking one up, gave up the idea as ridiculous and called for help.

“Delivery!” 

Down came the other three, Izac in the lead.

“What’s in the boxes, Rain?” He eyed them and me suspiciously.  I honestly do not know what I’ve done to provoke his ire. I have not once tried prying into the secrets lodged behind his imperious eyes. 

“A…delivery from Mr Giovanni, for the Pit,” I replied vaguely, figuring if he found out it was blood, he may not help. My worries were unfounded, however, and he easily picked up a box with Luna and Stallion as I led them all down into the basement.

More pieces from junk shops and St. Vinnies had arrived. An array of gold-rimmed glasses, several large siphons, half a dozen carafes, and a glass beehive drink dispenser were shelved into an old solid wood kitchen benchtop and cupboards someone had thrown into a skip. None of it was the era or style either Luna or I were going for, but they were decent quality and, above all, cheap.  I carefully opened the first box.  Inside, packed in dry ice, were four bags of blood, the same as you may see in a hospital.  Below them, another four, neatly stacked.  You had to hand it to Mr  Giovanni, he knew how to run a quality service.

I took out a bag and picked the four cleanest glasses from behind the counter to fill.  That’s when I realised my mistake, I hadn’t thought to order any animal blood.

“I’m sorry, Izac. This is intended for the bar, so I hadn’t thought to buy anything you can drink,” My apology sounded weak even to me.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly as if the oversight didn’t matter. 

“Hey, I could probably just call a rat over for you,” Stallion offered, and I had to once more remind myself that this was just a start, rats and all. 

“Er…here’s to us then, and the start of the rest of our lives,” I toasted.  Luna and Stallion took the two filled glasses.

“To a better tomorrow,” Izac added, and we toasted him as well, my cheer a little more forced than the others.

Tomorrow… and the next day and the day after until…the Succubus Club.  We had twelve days.  Twelve nights to…do what?  Find a way to gain enough influence to save Brendan.  Not fuck up so badly that I doomed not just Brendan but Lenny, myself and Avel, possibly even Luna. Twelve days to become at least a potentially valuable and resourceful adult in this new world and not some burdensome neonate child.

I don’t know if it was the ordeal of the night before or my desire for safety, but I was reminded of something that Mr Giovanni had mentioned our first night. 

“Now, Luna, you’re going to say this is typical of me, but I’m wondering if either you or Stallion remember Mr Giovanni mentioning something about blood bonds and protection?”

Stallion looked on dully as usual. I didn’t expect him to know. He’d been doped out of his mind most of the night.  What surprised me was that when Luna nodded, Izac did too.

“I do remember him mentioning something.  Why?” She asked, curious but unconcerned.

“You mean Vaulderie,” Izac replied, looking unnerved even mentioning it.

“Vaulderie?  I don’t recall that phrase being mentioned.  Mr Giovanni said there was a process we could do, and I only remember it having something to do with a blood bond.”  I grimaced. Not at the taste of Mr Giovanni’s supply, it was excellent as usual.  “I’m not inclined to ask him at this present time.”

There, Izac and I could surely agree on that.

“The Vaulderie is a ritual, a symbol that you’ve broken away from your sire to form a new coterie.  It’s supposed to make those involved more loyal to each other,” Again, that look of distrust and confusion.  

“That sounds ideal. What better way to start building a little trust and loyalty?” I said.

Those who could drank in silence.  Izac brooded.

“We don’t have to rush into something like that,” Luna said finally. “We can find out more information about what the ritual entails and then make our decision.” 

More time wasted. As usual, immortality stretched out before me, and I had no time to do what was needed.

“I…just, I feel that I’m running out of time. I’m worried about making a good showing at the Succubus Club.”

Everyone seemed to relax as one. I could read it in their expressions as if it were painted there. 

It’s only Rain being silly again about making a good impression in the Vampire community.

“But we still have twelve days,” even Stallion could reckon the time and felt it was a long way off.

“I’m scared,” I admitted, hoping the truth would instil some sense of urgency in them, “I’m scared that twelve days is all I have left.”

All it did was instil Luna’s sympathy. She rubbed my back, soothing the upset child and lulling him into complacency.

“But if you don’t want to, that’s fine,” I said with a cheeriness I did not feel, “There are always options for those who keep their eyes open, right Luna?”

“Loyalty?  You accused me of having no loyalty only yesterday,” Stallion, his intellect slow to rouse, now came to life with all the torque of his beloved 351 engines, “What’s all this talk of loyalty?”

Shit.

“I do have to apologise for my outburst.” I have to either take this on the chin now or try to convince Stallion that Mr Giovanni had wiped out months of memories. “I was still reeling from losing my friend and…”

“Well, that’s no excuse for taking it out on me,” He replied, righteously indignant.

“And you’re absolutely right.  I offer no excuse. I truly apologise for bringing it up.” 

He seemed mollified for the moment, but it was never clear when something wouldn’t rise out of the murky waters of Stallion’s thought processes.

“Why are you so worried about the Succubus club anyway?” Stallion thankfully changed tact, and I was left with the difficult task of explaining the depths of society in simple terms.

“Mr Giovanni told us what he believed important for us to know. The Tennents, the laws that govern Vampire society. But things like laws, like Princes, Elysium and The Succubus Club, are only the obvious signs of a society. But society and culture are like…icebergs.  The part you see is only the smallest fraction of what a society feels is important, holds dear and will kill to defend.”

“Unfortunately, due to either his self-imposed isolation or his family’s, Mr Giovanni has barely exposed us to kindred society.  It’s why I wanted to build up this place, meet other kin, and understand what they know to be important to them.”

“Everyone has their autonomy,” Stallion replied in words I didn’t imagine he knew.

“Yeah, Vampires are as myriad as people,” Izac added.

“You’re not being racist, are you?” Luna smirked, sipping her drink.

Was I overthinking things again? As Harper Lee was fond of saying, ‘I think that there is just one kind of folks. Folks.’  I looked at the three of them. Two were barely out of school, and though Sydney is a melting pot of nations, neither of them had been thrown into foreign cultures to sink or swim like I had. Izac had more time as a vampire, but his isolation meant he’d lived for years under the rule of a prince he never knew existed. Folks is folks is a fine sentiment for treating everyone decently and with respect, but if you wanted people to believe you’re one of them, you need to have the mask of society firmly in place.

“Well, I’d love to go out and meet other vampires. Luna and I attempted a while back; we could do that again. Or Izac, do you know anywhere we could go?” I asked, and for a moment Izac mentally contemplated a few options before Stallion replied.

“I’ve got stuff to do.  Whatever you decide, I can catch up with you later.”

“Yeah, me too,” Izac added, and both started up the stairs.

Luna’s phone rang, it was Mr Giovanni.

“Ah, Luna, I’ve just received a message from the Prince.  Your presence is requested at 182 Redfern Street, Redfern. It’s something of a test.”

“Just me?!” She asked, and suddenly, whatever urgent appointments the other two had were forgotten after hearing the concern in her voice.

“All of you,” he replied simply, and before hanging up, added, “do try and avoid the bikers.”

“What’s this about?  What are we supposed to do? What’s the context for this summons?” Izac spat out questions as he returned to the Pit.

“You don’t imagine the Prince gives details, do you?” Chided Luna, “this is all part of his game. We’ll have to go there and work out what it’s all about.”

“Well, I’m taking Slobbers.” With Stallion’s first priority in life covered, he quickly covered his second, “we should ask Mr Giovanni to borrow one of his vehicles for the night.”

“Good suggestion. I’ll call now,” I replied. I don’t think the first ring finished before I heard.

“Yes, Rain,”

“In light of the Prince’s request, I was wondering if we could borrow one of your vehicles for the night?”

“Of course, I’m on my way.  I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

He made it sound like we were going to a show. Maybe for him, it was.

7 pm, 11 hours until sunrise.  12 days until the Succubus Club.

Luna, Stallion and I were waiting when the black SUV  turned into Harris Street. It said something about Izac’s state of mind that he’d assumed he wasn’t expected to go and hung behind as the three of us climbed into the car.

“Is Izac required for this test?” I asked Mr Giovanni, taking my seat in the back.

“He is,” He leaned out the driver’s window, ushering Izac forward. Now, not sure he wanted to go on this test of ours, he closed the front door reluctantly and joined us in the car.

“So, what is this place we’re going to?” He asked.

“A small biker bar, nothing particularly special,” Ah, thus his cryptic comment about bikers to Luna.

“Biker wolves?” 

Mr Giovanni laughed.  He was certainly in a good mood.  That did not bode well for us.

“There are no wolves in there, Izac.” He pulled up in the nondescript street. I have some presents in the back.”

“Guns?” Stallion, as excited as a boy on Christmas day, went to get out.

“Can we just tour the block?” I asked, “just to see the lay of the land?”

Without a word, Mr Giovanni obliged, and Stallion slumped back into his seat.  The street was quiet.  A few locals coming and going from the bar. Strip shopping, a bed store, and a police station lay quiet not fifty metres down the road.

“Aw shit!” Stallion said what we were all thinking. We all hoped this would be a quiet, friendly visit, not one requiring Mr Giovanni’s ‘presents’.

Now a little more aware of our surroundings, we parked and collected around the boot of the vehicle. Stallion pulled a sword six feet long and handed it to me. It was taller than I was.

“Here, “ he said, “Mr Giovanni even thought of you.”
“Our comedian as always, “ I refused and patted the two throwing daggers I had belted under my vest.  If my two daggers could not serve me in the close quarters of the small bar, there was no hope.

“No flashbangs?” He now turned to Mr Giovanni, who shook his head.

“Silenced pistols only.”

“No flashbangs for you!” Luna added, “you’ve a terrible aim.”

“Guns and loud noises will not be our friends tonight,” I murmured, turning to the pub.  How prophetically accurate those words were to become.

With Mr Giovanni staying behind in the car, we walked in The Dock like ordinary people with silenced handguns under our trenchcoats. Instantly, I like the place.  An eclectic mix of kitschy art, customer chalk scrawlings and neon decorations.  Stallion’s eyes were also drawn to the top shelf, and he quickly ordered a double White Russian.  My eyes were instantly drawn to an unusually irreverent work of art on the wall. 

Reminiscent of Thomas Gainsborough’s Blue Boy, but with the boy opening his elaborate baroque coat to reveal a dizzy emote. I was struck by the juxtaposition of the old classic with the new meme and couldn’t take my eyes off it.  It would be perfect for The Pit. 

Fortunately, Izac was hyper-aware and spotted a giggling couple off to the back of the bar. They ushered him over.  He waved and gestured for them to join him at a table. They shook their heads and nodded towards the toilets.

“We need the talking one,” he whispered to Luna, pointing out the couple. She silently dragged me back to the business at hand.  

“Ah, just who we need to talk to,” I said, and turned on Auspex. Of the twenty-odd people in the bar more than half the auras were the mottle colours of ghouls.

“They’re ghouls,” I said quietly to Izac, unsure what they meant for us.  Maybe this was where they did business for their masters? 

I can live in hope.

Luna joined Stallion to let him know we’d made contact as Izac and myself followed the couple into the toilets.

“Good evening,” I said, breaking the ice.  

“You’re kind of fresh, aren’t you?” Said the man with a nasty grin that meant no good.

“As you say.  What can we do for you this evening?” 

“You know what we are, right? We know what you are,” the woman giggled.

“You are individuals usually attached to one such as us,” I acknowledged and decided that I needed to see what was so funny.  I chose the man and dialed up my Auspex until his surface thoughts became a slideshow in my mind.  A sadistic and body horror slide show that any sane person could do without. 

In my mind, the unknown kindred’s face was replaced by the snarling, rage-filled Luna’s, and I shuddered.

“Use to be.  That was… oh, seventy years ago.” Laughter from the two.

No wonder the Prince had sent us. The bar was a trap for vampires made by stray ghouls to supply their vitae. 

Outside, Luna noticed that the other bar patrons were quietly leaving in pairs. Crossing paths with the departing, three bikers in heavy leather jackets entered, carrying wooden stakes.

“Stallion, something’s up,” she whispered and started looking around for what to do. She spied a long-neck beer bottle standing empty on the bar. Stallion guzzled his drink and clenched the heavy glassware in his fist. Mr Giovanni, in the car, noticed the same trio and saw his chance. He silently left the car and started for the bar.

In the toilets, I bantered casually as I worked out what to do.  I had information that needed sharing, unfortunately, the only one who would make sense of it was Izac.  I’d promised I wouldn’t enter his mind, and I’d meant it at the time.  But this was important.  He had to know what was at stake.  I glanced at Izac and let the image slip into his mind.

He blinked, and his sad, worried eyes turned cold. His hand slipped into his jacket. 

“Hey!  The gang’s all here!” Luna shouted loudly for us to hear in the toilet. “Come on, let me buy you beers!”

The three bikies looked at each other and smiled the same leer the man in the toilet had used.

“I am sorry for you, “ I sighed deeply, “I’m sure we could have come to an agreement.”  And I roused my blood, and the world slowed around me.  Stepping back, I pushed the toilet door open, spying Luna and Stallion slowly rising from their seats.  My hands slid up under my vest and found the hilts of my daggers.  One flew from its hiding spot straight for the chest of the giggling man. His laughs turned to gurgles.  I watched Izac back towards the door as two pistols appeared from inside his coat.  

Stallion in the bar roused his beast as well, adding to the menace by crushing the glass with his fist.  One looked shocked by the display and turned their attention to the weaker-looking Luna.  Their mistake. Behind the three thugs in the bar, Mr Giovanni quietly stepped in and checked the ceiling for cameras.  Finding none, he turned his back and locked the door.  Luna smiled and turned on her celerity. With reflexes too fast to follow, Luna grabbed the neck of the beer bottle and smashed it against the bar.

In the toilet  Izac aimed his guns, one bullet for each and fired.  The silencers made the bang a pop, that to my sped up hearing sounded more like the buzz of angry bees.  I nearly laughed. 

“This is not how it’s supposed to happen!” The woman lamented, flailing her arms at me as her male companion lunged for Izac’s leg, his blunt mortal teeth still making it through denim to bite Izac in the thigh.  I danced around the woman, avoiding her attempts to hit me, and bent down towards her boyfriend.  He’d conveniently returned my dagger in his chest. I reached for it as my second dagger appeared.  It came around my body and down into his neck, just like my clan’s namesake against a bull.  Pulling the sharp blade towards me, the veins and arteries to the head gushed, spilling warm blood onto the floor.  Now, the blade in his chest came free, and I used my momentum from standing to swing it up and into the diaphragm of the woman.

“Bob is going to know,” she said with the last air in her lungs.

In the bar, Stallion stepped forward, putting his total weight behind the jagged edge of his glass. He hit the kevlar-reinforced leather of the bike jacket, and his glass bounced from his hand.  Luna lunged for the neck. She also lost her weapon as it lodged in her attacker’s neck. Reaching for her women’s breast pocket, she pulled out her razor blade, its keen edge ready for another strike. This time, she dropped and slashed out the back of a knee on Stallion’s attacker.  With a satisfied smile, she watched as he dropped slowly to one knee.

Izac swung his guns up at the woman, while I withdrew my knife from her ribcage. The muzzle of one gun lodged under her chin, he fired the other into her chest. The first hit, putting a hole through the women’s torso. I marvelled at the buzzing of the bullet, barely an annoyance to my ears.  The second gun to her head backfired. The whole rear of the weapon exploded, sending part of Izac’s hand flying through the air to the gun’s loud and all too distinct report.  

Now the screams came, now the images of body parts lying in limed graves.  I would have thought I blacked out if the evidence didn’t say otherwise.  I’m told the blade withdrew from the woman’s torso with a splash of crimson.  I stood, flipped the dagger to hold it by the blade’s tip, and threw it across the bar at the attacker on Stallion.   The dagger flew apart, the hilt flying free with the remaining blade to lodge only partway through the heavy leather of his jacket.  I threw the second blade, and it found the target. The man collapsed at Stallion’s feet.

With only one attacker left Stallion launched himself at the poor fool’s eyes, popping them in their sockets like grapes. He screamed, sinking to his knees, clutching his ruined face.  With a slash from Luna’s wicked, sharp cutthroat, he was put out of his misery.  

Suddenly, there was silence.  There were no cries of concerned citizens, no police sirens from down the road.  All was quiet except for the dripping and slapping of spurting blood. 

Mr Giovanni, his suit untouched by the fight, stepped around the mess and headed for a door marked STAFF.  He found a set of stairs and headed up. Stallion following.  Luna stepped away from the art she had created in the bar and came to see what we’d done in the bathroom.  When she saw Izac’s hand, she ran behind the bar, searching for a first aid kit. 

“Rain!  Izac’s hurt!” She called.  Her tone brought me around. I came to myself, standing in the centre of the massacre, my suit dark with blood, my daggers in one hand and the painting tucked under the other.  Confused, I cleaned my daggers and put them away as best I could.  Behind me, Luna was yelling again, but this time not at me.

“Heal yourself, you idiot, before you bleed to death!” She said, pressing a dressing to the stump that had been his hand.

“What?”

“Draw on the blood.  Here,” she pressed her free hand to his chest, “Move it to your hand,” she moved her hand over his shoulder and down his arm. The stump stopped bleeding, and soon, pink flesh appeared under the gauze. 

“I…I didn’t know that,” He said in awe as he watched fingers starting to regrow.

“Thirty years as a vampire, and you never learned to heal yourself?”
“Thirty years as a vampire, and I never needed to.”

Upstairs, Mr Giovanni and Stallion were making discoveries of their own.  The first room from the stairs had imprisoned several vampires.  It all was now just ash and bone and stale blood.  

“Make it look like a robbery,” Mr Giovanni said over his shoulder as Stallion walked into an office space.  Along the wall, eleven keys were hung neatly on hooks.  On the table, ledgers, piles of stacked bills and bags of drugs were laid out in lines.  It all went into a sports bag Stallion found in a corner.  

“You got everything from the desk?” Mr Giovanni asked, surveying Stallion’s work. “Good, I’ll take the safe.”

Stallion looked surprised as Mr Giovanni bent down, took the opposite corners of the safe in each hand and yanked the safe from the floor.  He would have been very impressed with Mr Giovanni’s strength if something hadn’t at that moment clicked in the older vampire’s back.  Numb hands dropped the safe as Mr Giovanni fell forward, his back screaming in agony. 

This was a new situation for Stallion.  Here was Mr Giovanni, his adopted sire, his boss and senior partner in the family business.  And here was a huge blood bag of whatever generation of vampire, helpless on the floor.  Stallion knew the benefits of Diablerie better than any of us.  All it would take was his weight on that already damaged spine, his teeth in Mr G.’s neck and…

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Mr Giovanni grumbled, getting up off the floor with a creak of joints.  He brushed himself down and returned to pick up the safe, this time with ease.  The door swung open.  Inside was a stack of files, dossiers on vampires from around Sydney.  Greedily, Mr Giovanni scooped up the files and dumped them into  Stallion’s bag.  

“Anything else?” Mr Giovanni asked Stallion as the hunger faded from Stallion’s eyes.

“There’s bottles of liquor in the bar,” Stallion suggested.

“Okay.  You get the bottles.  Give me the bag, and I’ll finish up here.”

Stallion came galloping down the staff stairs as Izac tested out his new fingers, picking up shell casings.  

“God damn it!” He yelled from the bathroom, and we all turned to see him angrily appear, pointing to his jean leg.  There was a bite-sized tear and some bleeding, “These were new!” He turned to Luna clearing the till and tipping the contents of the tips jar into her shirt.  Stallion was pulling full bottles of top shelf alcohol and stacking them in a milk crate used for empties. Izac’s eyes were drawn to a taxidermied tableau of a mongoose fighting two cobras twisted around it, and went silent.

I was glad of the silence.  I was coming down from…the adrenaline rush?  Shock?  I felt skittish and out of sorts, confused at how I’d ended up in the bar, but exhilarated at the energy still coursing through my limbs.  I was still standing there as the others started filing past to leave.

“Rain! Come on!” Luna called from the door.

“Don’t forget to clean your shoes,” Mr Giovanni pointed to the welcome mat at the door.  

I stumbled forward towards the door.  I cleaned my shoes.  I followed the others to the car.

“I did warn you to stay clear of the bikies,” Mr Giovanni gloated from the front passenger seat. Stallion was driving, though he’d had his fill from the top shelf before leaving.  Izac and Luna were once more huddled in the back, closed off from the world, protected by a cloud of music.  

“Stay clear of the bikies, but do you ever listen?” He chuckled to himself.  His own private joke. It was the third time he’d said the exact same line.  The same dumb taunt that meant absolutely nothing.  

Except.

Except, I was still shaking from the fight. The gun had exploded and then…then screaming. I just needed a moment to think, just give me a goddamn moment to think!

“You’re talking a load of shit, Giovanni,” I growled through the hands over my face.

“What was that, Rain?” Did he really not hear me, or was he only allowing me to dig my own grave? 

“It had nothing to do with what we wanted or what you had to say.  The Prince told us to go, so we went.  If he told us to go through the gates of hell, we’d ask the directions.  You are talking a load of shit, and right now, I’d like you to, SHOVE IT UP YOUR ARSE!”

I don’t know if that knocked the malicious smirk off his face or not, I didn’t look. All I knew, the car was silent except for the tinny sound of rock music bleeding from Luna and Izac.

“Man, you’d think you guys had never committed Larceny before,” Stallion finally broke the silence, his voice slurred, but his driving rocksteady, “What’s our cut from the money we found upstairs, Mr Giovanni?”

“We’ll count what we have once we return to the Crow bar, but, “  Mr Giovanni tapped something with his foot, and it thudded heavily, “I think we’ll probably walk away with approximately sixty-thousand each.”

“Sixty thou!  I can go to the Succubus Club all pimped out!” Stallion howled, “We all can.”

“Oh! I still have to buy my dress,” Luna now perked up. The sound of cold, hard cash made it through the wall of sound,” I guess I can now!”

We entered the bar via the basement and slunk into the office spaces without being seen. Mr Giovanni had full control over the sports bag, which disappeared into Bruce’s hands with a quiet conversation. We all cleaned up and found something to wear. My purple suit was ruined. I put it with the other clothes to be disposed of and wrangled a new collared shirt fresh from its packaging. The nervous buzz had subsided, and I  was starting to feel the leadened exhaustion that came after when Izac prowled into the room.

“I need to talk to you,” He said, as he always said, through his own barely contained nervous fury,” You promised you wouldn’t mess with my head, and then you went and did it anyway.”  Out from under his still blood-stained jacket, he pulled the mangled pistol with his healing hand, “I didn’t need that…image in my head,” He trained the muzzle on me, “Trust isn’t given, Rain, it’s earned.”

I took a breath and squared my shoulders, “I have a powerful gift, and I will use it in any way I can to help us get through these nights.  I needed to share what I’d seen in their head with someone who’d understand what it meant.  Unfortunately, you were the only one there,” I forced myself to look past the barrel of the destroyed gun and found his furious eyes, “I can’t apologise for that.”

“Trust, Rain.  You can forget about the Vaulderie!” Dropping the handgun at my feet, he left.

Sixty thousand or no, I wasn’t staying around there any longer. 

I returned to Pyrmont and The Pit.

8.30pm 9 hours until Sunrise. 12 days until The Succubus Club.

***********************************************************

Izac thoughts:

The Façade of Trust

 The man known as Garcia is right: “No one knows anything, so they want to know everything.” If I continue on this path, it’s only going to garner more attention. Even His.

 I need to change tact. Nothing as extreme as my first thought: I’m better than that. I have to be. It won’t happen again; I promised them it wouldn’t. 

The rest of the night was with Luna. We decided to go anywhere but the house, it clearly wasn’t the safest location. Maybe some time processing the last few nights would be healthy. We didn’t have a direction but stopped at a park swing set for a while. I wanted to ask more about the ordeal, but I feel if I did it would cause more harm than good. Maybe in time.  It was a good long while too, more than a few times I checked the watch and by the time we got home, it was not too far from the dawn.

 — 

A delivery just after twilight arrived at the Pyrmont house. Rain seem chuffed at the arrival. We all chipped in to help him carry it downstairs. 

Blood bags, several boxes actually. Rain found a supplier. Definitely human blood for sure but unlike the butchery under the Crowbar, these were in clean bags. I thought a new leaf was turned. A step in the right direction… 

Vaulderie: a means to break the bond from Sires and place loyalty into those who take place in the ritual. Rain seems insistent of the idea; I’m guessing he learned it from the books that sparked a debacle not too long ago. I would chalk it up to once again blatantly disregarding the rules but something else seems to be troubling him. He doesn’t have my time he says. The Succubus Club could be the final stop. Whatever is troubling him, it’s something close to him. He is vague. If he would explain his concern maybe as a group, we could help. If he decides to, I’ll listen, even given the current circumstances between us. 

 Ironic 

I needed to talk to Giovanni and as if tempting fate, he called us. He had a job, on behalf of the prince.  

Sarasine

 A test, a means for the coterie to prove themselves in the eyes of the monarch of Sydney. At least I thought it was just them. He wanted me there too. So many eyes watching, eager to see how we performed. It didn’t take long for Mr Giovanni to arrive in the gun wagon that was the blacked-out SUV. 

With very little information other than a boot full of guns and an insistence on entering the biker bar, some of us took the more overt weapons and headed in. It seemed a nice enough place. The art displays transfixed Rain and we had to pry him from them. There was an open bar that satisfied Stallion and a neat corner for Luna and me to head to and get a lay of the land. 

It appears they knew we would come.

 A soon as we sat down, two strangers beckoned us toward the bathrooms. With charisma not being my strong suit and failing to tempt them to us, Rain and I approached. 

“You’re all too easy” one said. A trap.  

With the police station across the road and the bar quickly evacuating of patrons, the guns seem less and less an option for our new acquaintances. Ghouls, unshackled as Rain put it, looking for their favourite meal: Vitae. Us… 

That was enough to get the nature of things… 

A flash of an image: a vampire strapped to a cross, dismembered, and tortured. Not my thoughts. 

The figure on the cross flickered. Luna… Not my thoughts. Someone else is –

 Rain… 

He said he wouldn’t.  

He lied. 

The two ghouls began to close in, they had the prey where they wanted it. 

Do it.

 What’s one more? 

For the record, what happened next was self-defence. It was kill or be killed. I won’t shirk the responsibility of taking their lives, but this was different. I had no choice. I wouldn’t die there.

 The fight was quick, my partner in the bathroom moved first, two knives in chests before I could blink. Looking into the bar from our position, it was three were approaching the others. The melee outside was soon to begin. 

 Do or die. I pulled the pistols and opened up. Both found their target. 

One ghoul fell forward and knocked me back hard into the door frame. My leg shot in pain as he sank his teeth in. 

Rain finished him in a blink, blood spraying the ground with his torn throat. 

The battle lines in the bar had joined.

One left on our end, the pistol came up under her chin. The first casing ejected. The second didn’t… 

Hindsight, it was probably the doorframe that did it. Something in the magazine or the suppressor was broken in the impact. The gun detonated. My hand mangled with it. By the time the swirl of pain subsided the fight was over, and Luna was by my side. 

“Focus on the blood” she had said. I didn’t follow. She took my arm and traced from my inner elbow to my palm, and I followed the sensation. Listening to her guidance, the hand formed as if new, the tissue repairing itself rapidly. Over thirty years and I had never had the need to do so? It must be an instinctual action that I had never thought on. 

We cleaned up in the bathrooms to get rid of the blood. Luna was saying something to herself. I couldn’t tell if it was prayer or just nervous energy dissipating after the fight. A firecracker still sparkling after its explosive performance. And apparently, I’m the mystery figure in all this?  

Giovanni and Stal headed upstairs and ransacked the place whilst the other two did the same on the ground floor. There was an art piece: a weasel fighting two circling cobras. Instinctually, the weasel would fight till its last, use its cunning to escape and break away from the threat. But I’ve lost that, right? Instinct? You saw to that, but I can hear it now. It is getting louder, and I can’t understand why?  

Stress?

 Paranoia? 

H Them? 

It can’t come back.

 I need to breathe, to decompress. I hope who ever was watching got what they wanted. 

We made it to the car, the street empty and nothing stirring in the police station. Someone had cleared the path. Wouldn’t take much to guess who.

 A sense of déjà vu set in as Luna leaned against me in the car. Linkin Park was the flavour of the trip this time and its timbre only stoked my anger at the man sitting in the far passenger seat. I had made my boundary clear, he accepted as much. We had an agreement. Maybe I should have let him see. It makes sense for him to want the Vaulderie, a means to do as he wants and still maintain loyalty. Trust isn’t something you can just summon. The ritual doesn’t provide the genuine article. Trust is earned not brought about by pacts and rituals.   

Luna kept me from reaching over and striking him when she tried bury her empty ear into me even more. The screaming match erupting in the car was not something she wanted to endure. If my arm wasn’t pinned by her, I would’ve offered it. Firey then timid. Just who are you? 

I’m sure half the car didn’t want to arrive at the Crowbar so soon after recent events. But here we are. The night has begun in earnest and it’s not even nine yet. Something tells me that this will be a long night. Longer nights are yet to come. 

*****************************************************************************************

Luna’s thoughts:

Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Right

When did she stop using her fists? 

She would sit in those wooden pews, hands pressed palm to palm, asking for forgiveness and the next day there was more blood on the pavement. 

They say violence is genetic. Predisposed factors up the likelihood of behavioural problems. 

‘What issues?’ She could almost hear her mother ask. She was a God-fearing woman. Him, His son and His spirit were the first most important things in her home. Her daughter could never be walking down a violent path. God would never allow it. 

If He was like any other gods, violence was a welcomed sport. Whether it be nude in the centre of a field or screamed upon in the walls of an arena, humankind hasn’t progressed excessively from their nomadic past. 

Blood is a sport. A way of life in more ways than one. 

Luna did not fear God, she challenged Him. How many sins are you willing to wash off until you dispose of a child? How close can she get to homicide before he stops resolving her crimes? 

How many times does she have to repent? How many confessions until her soul is clean? 

If He chose her path, why this one? 

She has done everything to set herself straight. Picked up words instead of fisticuffs, devoured books instead of the sounds of breaking bones. Buried herself up in a new world entirely fabricated by drinks, partying, working and studying. 

Can’t fall into old habits if you kill your old self. 

Is she hanging by threads or a noose? 

If all is said and done, if she was pushed to the limit she knows the true answer. 

Push, push, push. Fight, fight, fight. 

Can she absolve this sin? 

The long neck of a booze bottle sits in the palm of her right hand. 

The bottle is broken with an expertise only attainable through experience. 

He closes in. 

Step-to-step. 

Breath-to-breath. 

The crucifix on his chest mocks her. 

She jams the razor glass edges into his throat so far she breaks the nozzle through sheer force. 

She considers interlocking her fingers together and hitting the bottle further into his throat to make the home run. It would be so easy. He wanted this. 

Stallion dodges two stakes. 

Luna pulls the knife from within her bra. Really, it’s one of the best pockets a woman has. 

She doesn’t see red. She can see every moving part in front of her. The chess pieces on this board are hers to control. One pawn down, two to go. 

Her body moves faster than normal. Everyone is two seconds too late. 

One of the attackers has his back to her. The leather of their coats is thick. Only a well paced hit will suffice. She chooses to force the knife to slice the back of his knee. A slow moving target is an easier one. 

The blood from the last attack coupled with her sheer strength sends the blade flying after a hit that struck true. 

Within seconds they attempt to hit Stallion again and fail. They’re miss stepping, unbalanced, skewed. 

Perfect. 

The king on her board moves. Whatever or whoever they were dealing with in the man’s bathroom doesn’t need the attention of two vampires. 

Rain’s motions are as fast as hers. The man in front of her is effortlessly impaled by two thrown knives. 

Stallion doesn’t acknowledge this action. He jams his sharpened bottle into the eyes of the last standing attacker. 

They scream. 

Luna knows if her blood was still pumping in her veins it would run cold. They’re too loud. She can see Dominic approaching from the corner of her eye. Her next actions run on autopilot. She grabs a blade from the fallen body and slashes out the screamer’s vocal cords followed by the rest of their throat. 

Everyone moves. The air has shifted. 

Izac. 

Luna steps over the fallen bodies, marches past Rain to push open the bathroom door. The smears of blood left by her hands are only registered in her peripheral vision before landing on Izac. 

He’s crouched on the ground, two mangled bodies join his own. One hand clutching the gun, the other a compact mess of blowback trauma. She could imagine it reeks of gunpowder. 

“Izac,” she says before kneeling in front of him. She wipes the blood from her hands onto her jeans before ever light fingers inspect the wounded hand. 

Luna knows he’s staring at her. She can feel the blood dripping from her face, staining her hair and contouring her throat. Tends to occur when you cause an arterial spray. 

“You have to focus the blood to heal it,” She instructs. When Stallion beat her up in that friendly fight she had to heal her bruised face. It was almost instinctual to manipulate the blood inside her to cause a healing effect. 

“What? How?” Izac’s confusion infected his voice. 

“Make the blood follow my touch,” her index and middle finger apply light pressure into his inner elbow. He hesitates before she can feel the resistance of blood against her touch. 

A mocking heartbeat. 

Her fingers travel down his arm, following the bend of his ulna until they reach his palm. 

“Concentrate it in your hand. Imagine it building the vessels, muscle, bone and ligaments back together. It’s pushing back on your pain, removing it like a poison.” Izac seemed to understand that simile better. His hand was healed within a minute. 

Steps loam towards the door. Izac slips the gun away before Rain appears. She doesn’t explicitly remember calling him though it seems like something she would normally do when faced with a wound. To be honest, he doesn’t seem to be in the room with them. 

Luna’s still waiting for her consciousness to return. Maybe some guilt to dull down this adrenaline. 

The guilt never arrives. Not like the first time. 

That was an accident. 

A good one. 

Even as Rain loiters then leaves, Izac’s eyes stay on her. She can almost see his guilt. It encases him like a viscous fluid.  

With him safe, she stands to wash the blood off of herself. This action too is automatic. Water cleanses, it purifies. 

She mumbles Psalm 142 to herself. The verses are ingrained in Greek. She could recite them in English too. Could enact the whole ceremony if she wanted. 

Once her hair and hands were cleaned she turned to her neck. 

“In Your righteousness shall You lead forth my soul out of tribulation,” the water soaks into her corset top. Joining the blood she cannot get out, “and in Your mercy shall you destroy my enemies.” 

She splashed water onto her face. As the clear fluid turns murky reddish brown in the sink she finishes the prayer. 

“and You shall cut off all them that afflict my soul, for I am Your servant.” 

She was once. It is perhaps that part of her that spurs on this religious sham. 

Perhaps she may be cleansed after this. A botched Lesser Sanctification of the Water in the man’s bathroom of a bar. 

She is unsure when Izac joined her in the clean up process. He does not speak to interrupt her mumbling. Using a hand towel to dry her face and neck, she walks back into the bar. 

Footsteps atop of them indicates Dominic and Stallion have gone to loot, botching a robbery. Rain stands transfixed. His arms clutch blades and a painting he’s taken off the wall. Luna cannot pull him from this stupor. 

“That’ll be a nice addition to the gallery,” is all she can offer before walking behind the bar. 

“It will be,” his voice is as frail as his composure. 

‘It’s a dog eat dog world, Runt.’ 

An echo from a long time ago. Another life, really. 

Luna feels no remorse emptying the register and tip jar. All they have ever been is the Prince’s play things. Cleaning up his messes and entertaining his fucking games. 

Puppets in his larger play. 

“I don’t believe in Sarrasine.”

“Do you think the Giovanni’s respect the rules?” 

She slams the register closed, pocketing the notes. 

“Leave some of the goodshit for me!” Stallion parades himself into the bar. His greedy eyes consuming each and every bottle in front of him. A tapestry of alcoholic fun calls him.  

Ever since recovering from her worst blackout, Luna has hated heavily drinking. She may enjoy sugar drinks here or there but her preference for soft drinks has clearly been tossed over Stallion’s head. 

“Uh-huh,” is all she offers him as she hoists herself onto the bar. Luna takes off her black boots and uses the flexible nozzle to clean off the obvious evidence of blood. She is sure Dominic’s goons will clean this mess and stage a robbery gone wrong. The police station across the street may have been alerted but their leisure in the light of blood-curdling screaming tells her this is as staged as the night before. Their time may be constrained but the hourglass is full of more sand than usual. 

Stallion flicks his head after she’s finished placing on and lacing her boots. She aims the nozzle to clean his shoes half hazardously. 

Once Izac emerges the cleanest of them from the bathroom, Dominic’s presence calls them to his attention. With one look, the gang packs themselves up quickly back to the car. They talk of arguing about who is driving. 

Izac and her are already in the backseat. He throws her a knowing look with an outstretched hand. She offers him a hum of confusion. 

“You know the rules Luna. Life or death situations, you give me an AirPod.” She offers him a small smile and passes the bud over. 

‘Bleed It Out ‘by Linkin Park is the song that starts playing. 

Once the driver is sorted there is more yelling. Luna may consider herself lucky in this instance. Living in a one parent household means she wasn’t all that exposed to yelling matches. Izac seems to notice her tension. His shoulder drops slightly as Luna leans her head into it, knees drawing up slightly as the yelling continues. 

Anger is not a hot look on Rain. It may be justified however. Dominic, like any man, is full of hypocrisy. He carries himself with an air of righteousness and correctness even if he is in the wrong. It may be a side effect of his businessman character. 

The mention of money draws her attention. The dress she wanted for the Succubus Club was way out of her price range. Without thinking she blurted out, “I can buy my dress.” 

Her enthusiasm was misplaced in the atmosphere. Oh yeah, they had all been arguing. Luna had let out all her frustrations in the bar. Two days of torture bleed out on alcohol coated floors. She deserved a win of this calibre. 

They haven’t been what she’s been through. Rain searches for a purpose in light of his punishment. He wishes to regain his footing because he’s been knocked entirely off kilter. The drop in of Garcia makes him believe Dominic is an incompetent man. That the man of his dreams could have led him better, educated him more directly. 

Rain is a man of fantasy. His own dreams intend to make himself his own greatest con. 

Izac is scared. As he should be. He’s in the spotlight when he spent years trying to avoid it. Vampire society wants to see if he is a danger or an asset. He might believe his death is imminently waiting in the false blood hunt that is the club.  

Stallion has never worried about much of anything. Worry is for the sober. Guilt is for the people who don’t know how to have a good time. His infancy and slowness may be his greatest strength. Watching everyone from two steps behind means you may be able to avoid the land mines they step on. 

Enjoying a night out with Izac may have allowed her to run from her thoughts for a little while. That night she couldn’t stop thinking. She could feel the sun approaching the edge of the horizon. 

‘The faster you run away from your destiny, the quicker it comes.’

The Fates are cruel women. She’s following their thread without realising it. 

Her sire wants her fire. She knows what fuels her. It’s an unending flame of rebellion. If she wants to be above him, resistant to the light pressure of the Prince’s string, a domain is in order. 

Luna has never been a person of long term goals. If it can’t be completed in a year, there is no use in trying. A year is all she needs. The further she gets from the statistics the more satisfied she’ll be. A domain means Rain could run his bar as he pleases, entertain all the kine and kin he wants. A domain means Izac can live a little more freely, not pressured by the thumb of Camarilla expectation and thirst for information. She’s unsure how Stallion will feel about it but a promise of some freedom and an ability to police people to an extent might interest him. 

It’s childish. 

It’s perfect. 

She closes her eyes and leans into Izac more. She doesn’t want to go back to Pyrmont where she now feels unsafe. She doesn’t want to go into the Crowbar knowing she’ll be back on Dominic’s leash instead of the Prince’s. 

A cornered dog is great entertainment. 

Notable NPCs

Avel:  Rain’s mother, a wraith.

Beelzebub: Fallen angel and entity in Rain’s pocket watch.

Bobby Lisner: Malkavian seer who lives in an old Sewer pipe in The Rocks.

Brendan Virgil: A.K.A. Miss Divine Intervention.  Rain’s close friend.

Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni

Cabolut Hazzim: the name given by a vampire who cleared out the homeless at Rain’s old squat

Detective Woodman:  NSW Policed premiere detective and a sufferer of schizophrenia.  He has an assistant currently called Notetaker.

Francis Tuttle: Name given in charge of the investigation into the deaths of homeless in Surry Hills.

Garcia: Sire.  Unknown location.

Giuseppe Giovanni: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni.  Some sort of relative of Mr Giovanni.

Lenny: Rain’s Ghoul and artist friend

Madeline Blackwell: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni, working at the State Coroners Court.

Night Rider: Red-haired vampire?  Works for the Prince.

Pangea: a Nosferatu (tunnel builder)

Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats

Prince Sarrasine (Sar-ras-seen): Toreador Ruler of Sydney*

Sparrow: a Nosferatu of the warren in Pyrmont, closest to home

Glossary of terms:

Anarchists: a faction of Vampires.  Caused issues in Los Angeles recently, killed the Prince.

Antediluvian: from before the time of the biblical flood.  The third generation that were the progenitors of the thirteen clans of vampires.

Blood hunt:  A process to destroy a vampire who has broken a tradition.  Specifically mentioned in the sixth.

Canaanites: Those descended from Cain, the first murderer and vampire.

Camarilla:  a faction of Vampires closest to the Princes.  Believe in hierarchy and order.

Clan or Bloodline:  From one the 13 antediluvians. 

Marauder: A mage gone mad.  Living in his own pocket dimension that answers to the whim of his broken mind.

Diablerie : the drinking another vampire blood and soul

Favour:  How Vampires pay for things they want or need doing.

Fetter: A place, person or thing that binds a wraith to the Shadowlands.

Ghouls: Servants of a vampire who have been fed vitae.  They are loyal, stronger, more resilient and sometimes show other powers gained from the blood. They must receive the blood at least once  a month  or they return to being human. Can be addictive.  

Hunter:  Members of the Society of Leopold, a branch of the Catholic Church.  Fanatical vampire hunters and killers.

Kin: Vampires, a name among themselves

Kine: Humans

Marauder:  a rouge mage, often mad. They are likely to act in a way that exposes the Otherworld of the Masquerade to exposure. 

Masquerade : The rule that keeps vampire society safe.  Hiding ones nature from the world.

Men in Black: An international unit dedicated to controlling supernatural and alien entities.

Sabbat: a faction of Vampires that believe that the progenitors of the clans will one day awake and eat all their young.

Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.

Vaulderie: A ritual where Kindred swear loyalty to each other.

*Sarrasine, a novella by Balzac.  Sarrasine is a sculpture who is infatuated with an Opera Singer, Zambinella. She thinks herself cursed and deflects his advances.  At a performance, Zambinella is revealed to Sarrasine to be a castrato.  In a rage, Sarrasine attacks the singer, only to be cut down and killed by their bodyguard.

he Third life of Rain

 8.25 pm, 8 hours until Sunrise.  13 days until Succubus Club

Izac was first to leave the table and head outside onto the street to wait for Luna. I didn’t want to leave the Pit quite so quickly.  Tonight had been the start of something, something mine and Luna’s. It had been kin sitting around a table together and sharing ideas, relaxing instead of trying to work out how to destroy each other. I slowly collected the cards and poker chips, flipped the chairs onto the table and stood back, imagining this place in a few weeks time.

Stallion’s phone buzzed.

“Huh.  It’s Mr Giovanni.  He wants to see me early tomorrow for an opportunity.”

“More fighting?” I asked, hoping it would keep Giuseppe out of Pyrmont.

“Possibly, but I don’t think so. He says it’s business.”

“Fighting isn’t business?”

“Na, fighting is sport.  Man, I thought you were smart.”

I stand corrected.

Stallion must of gotten sick of watching me pottering around the basement, as he left soon after and went to find Izac. Leaning against the spear-tipped fence that marked the line between our property and the public footpath, Izac’s attention alternated between the dark screen of his phone and the empty street. He was surprised when Stallion opened the door behind him.

“Hey, can we talk for a minute?” Stallion glanced warily behind him at the closed door, “maybe talk across the road?”

Izac obliged, and they crossed the empty suburban street, still facing south in case Luna should appear. 

“What’s up?”

“Rain was saying I’d been disloyal towards you. Have I ever been disloyal?”
“Huh?  Where did this come from?” Izac was genuinely surprised.

“I’ve been accused.  I’m trying to work out what to believe.“
“As far as I know, you’ve done nothing wrong in my book.”

“Well then, whose talking shit? You or Rain?”

“Let’s dissect this.  I heard you two arguing this morning.  What did he say?”
“Something like, I was disloyal to you when all you’d ever done is try to help. I’m confused.”
“Me too.” Izac tearing his eyes away from the end of the street to seem at least interested in the conversation.

“Yeah, we’ll work it out together.  Sleuth out the truth!” Stallion was more invested in uncovering my stumble.

“Look, Stal. I’m waiting for someone to come back.  We’ll look at it again with a clear head.”
“I’m clear-headed now, “ Stallion wasn’t getting to hint. “I can play games, too. Who are you waiting for?”

Izac rolled his eyes, “You know who.” He checked his phone again. Still nothing.  

Stallion stalled.  His eyes glazed over and he had to focus all this thought on the task of recalling the only other person who wasn’t there.

“Augh, her?” 

“She’s just had an encounter with Giovanni, and you know how I feel about him.”

“I’ve got to see him myself later.  I can give you a lift to the Crowbar if you want.”

“Ah, yeah, that would be good,” Izac replied distractedly.

“And nothing to Rain, okay?  I wouldn’t want to miss my moment.”
“Yeah, sure mate.”
“I mean it. We’ll gang up on him, get him when he least expects it.”

“Stallion,” Izac reached out a hand and placed it on Stallion’s shoulder, “I understand.”

Stallion didn’t, but it did make him move. The physical contact disturbed Stallion, and without taking his eyes off off Izac, he walked back across the road and into the house. 

Luna appeared soon after, hands in pockets, her whole posture defeated.  Slowly, as not to startle her, Izac crossed the road and joined her on the footpath outside the house.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, and she tilted up her face, surprised to see him. Bloody smears around her eyes looked like ghoulish mascara.  He wiped it away with a gentle hand.

“You’ve been waiting?” She asked with such incredulity. It was heartbreaking. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Izac took a moment to try and read her expression. Everything conveyed broken. It was like Giovanni had destroyed everything she’d ever hoped for in one interview.

“What happened?” He asked.

Her eyes scanned the darkening street, the empty cars that lined it, and the twitching curtains of the neighbours.

“Inside.”

Inside, I was trying to get Blanco to walk around. He’d taken a hit of alcohol the night before and though it was now in his blood, I had to try something to keep him alive. I held him around the middle, letting his feet take his weight as I moved him around the kitchen.

“Come on, Blanco. One foot after the other,” I murmured as the front door closed and Stallion walked in. 

“Slobbers!  How ya doing, mate?” I let Stallion take over administering to Slobbers, and not long after, the door opened and closed again. It was Izac and Luna. 

Forgetting the dog, I walked across the gallery and embraced Luna. She tensed under my arms.  I turned on Auspex and tried to make sense of the jumbled static of orange, red, brown, and grey roiling around her. It was a mess. She was a mess.

“You’re home and safe,” I whispered. Finally, her right hand reached out and returned the gesture, pulling me in.
“Did you plant the Days of Fire in my room?” She asked so quietly I doubt I would have picked it up except for Auspex. 

I seethed. After all I’d shared with her.  What had Giovanni done to make her consider I would do such a thing? For what purpose? Still, I am a liar. How could I make her believe anything I say, even the truth?

I shook my head against hers, “I put that damn book back the night of the Mage.  I covered the ditch with a trip into Izac, remember?  I have no idea how it got into your room.”

It was then we both felt the scratching in the back of our minds as the entity in the watch, Beelzebub, now spoke up.

That was my fault.  I wanted you both to read it and understand.

I read it.  I put it back, you bastard!

I’ll make it up to both of you.

I imagined an image of the tiny bonsai on fire.

I do know that’s not real, you know.

It can be.  What, you don’t think I can’t ask Stallion to torch it?

I messed up, I will make it right.

You know what she’s been through?
Yes.

Then it better be good. 

Luna’s face was fixed in a concentrated look of rage. I gently took her left elbow.  She flinched, and the fury disappeared.  Slowly, she allowed me to lift her hand out of her pocket and examine her. Two bloodied and inflamed puncture wounds coloured the pale skin of the inside of her wrist. I leaned down and kissed the wound, and it disappeared as if it never existed.  

I sighed.  If all wounds were as easy to fix.

Our phones buzzed in our pockets. I let her go to read the text message and she grabbed my chin, pulling my face around in line with hers.

“Whatever happens, you need to listen to every word to the letter.  Do you understand?”  Her eyes, red-rimmed and blood shot bore into me.  I nodded and a thrill of fear went through me. What was left to come?  

I checked the message:

BEFORE TONIGHT IS OVER WE NEED TO HAVE A DISCUSSION.  A MAJOR BREACH OF TRUST HAS HAPPENED AND WE WILL GET TO THE BOTTOM OF IT.

I don’t have to tell you who it was from.

“You found only two books?” Luna was asking Izac like it was life and death.  Maybe it was.

“I only found two besides the Book of Nod. What are they?”

“Research.  One is the history of the world, from a…different perspective.  The Latin one was on the mage clans, dreams speakers, technomancers, stuff like that.”

“They sound like dangerous books,” Izac was shocked that we’d want to read such books, let alone want to own them.

“Everything is dangerous,” Luna replied, defeated and broken.  Oh god, what happened to our Brujah?!

“Yes, I know that!” Izac said impatiently.  He was frustrated.  He wanted to fix things.  I sympathised with that, but some things can’t be fixed.

“Do you?” Luna rounded on him, a flash of fury in her bloodstained eyes. Ah, there she is.

I received another text, and assuming it was Giovanni again, I almost ignored it. 

HOW’S THE FEEDING? WE WILL CALL FOR YOU SOON. It was from the Prince.  They say everything comes in threes.  Here was number two for the night. 

LOOKING FORWARD TO IT, I replied and meant it.  I genuinely hoped the Prince would help prepare for the Succubus Club, even for his own amusement.

In the kitchen, Stallion had returned his dog to its bed.  I’m told sleeping children hold power over their parents.  There was something of that in Stallion’s face as he watched his sleeping dog.  His response, was to take selfies.

“So, let’s chat about those books,” Izac said in his most paladin voice.

“Yes?” Luna said cooly.

“The books,” I replied at the same time. Neither of us was in the mood for a lecture.

“How did they get to the house?”

Luna sighed and looked broken again, “One, by me.  The other, I don’t know. Stallion?”

“Don’t look at me,” I said as Izac’s baleful gaze fell on me, “last time I saw it, it was in Giovanni’s library.”

Izac ruffled his overlong hair, the frustration becoming physical, “We have rules we need to live by.”
“You don’t need to tell us,” Luna now turned on Izac, “Yeah, I fucked up and I paid for it too!”

I didn’t need Izac’s lecture either. I knew I was to face something like Luna had experienced and needed to prepare.  

“Yes, it seems I’m to face the music next,” I waved my phone, signalling that I’d received a summons.

“The music is playing, will you listen?” Luna asked in such an earnest tone.  I knew her concerns, she’d stated them clearly enough.  

I shrugged, “I always listen to the music, love. I just tend to make my own lyrics.”

I left them to their lecture and went upstairs to chat with the instigator of our current trials.  

Izac continued his tirade but now focused on a different source of concern.

“This…punishment,” He softened towards Luna, who was still suffering from the aftermath, “…surely it’s beyond all proportions for a couple of stolen books.”

Luna shrugged. When in history did the victim get to determine the punishment?

“It’s….barbaric!” Izac almost spat as if that was the worst he could call someone.

“It was how he was raised,” she sighed. We are all products of our context.”

Izac stared at Luna as if she’d suddenly popped into existence, “How old are you?”

A sad little half smile flittered across her face, “What do you mean by that?”

“Giovanni is old, right?  And you talk as if you know…”
“I study ancient cultures and societies,” she said, leaning into him as if drawing on his strength and reassuring him, “I am my age.”

Izac stared down at her as if unsure what to believe.  He’d been played before.

I paced my room, the watch in my hand, our silent discussion for no one but me and Beelzebub.

What does Giovanni know?

He doesn’t know what you think he knows.

Does he know about our arrangement?

No.  At least I don’t think so.

This is important.  I have to face him and explain how that book got here.  I’m going to have to take the blame unless he already knows about you.

He does not. And I said I am sorry and will make it up to you.

Okay.  There was no point in labouring the fact any longer. Besides, I had other concerns I needed to discuss with the Lord of Flies.

 Is there anyway you can help me hide my thoughts from him?  I’m afraid I may be a sieve now and let something leak if… I couldn’t finish that thought.  Even to myself, I am not brave.

I could, but I don’t think you want it.

Demon possession?  No, perhaps not.

We’re in this together, okay. If you don’t help me, he may well find out.

Hey, why don’t you say it was your mother.  Say she couldn’t help it and hid the book in Luna’s room for fear of her boy being caught.

I wrinkled my nose at the thought.  I didn’t want to remind Giovanni of her existence.  

The smell of burning wafted through my open door. Suddenly, the smoke alarm peeled through the house along with Stallion’s voice.

“Shit! Fuck!” 

Number three.

Stallion was having a great time snapping photos with his comatose dog. The flash awoke Blanco who on seeing his master made an effort to engage.  He yawned, opened his eyes and greeted him.

“Alright there, bud?” Stallion asked with concern in his voice.

“Yeah, “ Blanco stretched, making a show of being fit for a new night with his beloved master, “that was a good time.”

“Well, I’m glad. Say I have to go out to the club later.”
“Oh good, I’ll come too,” Blanco sat up in his bed before Stallion shook his head.

“I can’t take you, bud.  But, do you want something before I go?”

“Could you make me bacon and eggs?”

“Urgh…” Stallion had no idea what food was in the house.  There was only food because of Lenny, “sure, bud.  I’ll see what I can do.”

Stallion found the eggs quickly enough, and there was a packet of bacon in the freezer. He lit the stove with a start as the blue flames flickered tamely in their burner. The fear of the flames wasn’t like that of the beam of light so he quickly placed a frying pan on top, blotting them from sight.

Luna walked past him and out into the backyard followed by a concerned Izac. Kneeling on the small patch of grass surrounded by neat garden beds, Luna bowed in prayer.

“Praying now?”

“Aren’t you all about salvation? Forgiveness?”

That gave Izac pause.

“I guess. There are a lot of people who need to forgive me.  How do you know He’s listening.”

“Got to try, right?”

“Maybe.  Maybe it depends on how far trying gets you.”

“Belief and faith.  The devil believes there is a God, the devout have faith.  There’s a fine line.”

Luna’s face went blank, and Izac realised that her inner voice had invaded her mind.

“Maybe you should make sure Stallion doesn’t burn himself.” She said finally, bowing over her hands.

Izac reached out and touched her shoulder and allowed his power to move through her. He could feel her relax under his hand, “make sure its your voice alone in there.  We’re better than our beasts.”

“Shit! Fuck!” Stallion exclaimed as the smoke alarm sounded.

The cooking had been going so well until the bacon started spitting and caught alight in the the burner.  The flame spread to the frying pan in a flash and Stallion found himself dodging out of the way of the initial gout of flame.  A roiling fear burst into his chest and he had to step back to keep from panicking.  Izac ran in from the garden, his eyes wide with the same fear. 

“Put something on that fire!” He yelled.

Pushing down the fear, Stallion reached out and turned off the burner, “Lenny!  Come and deal with this shit!” 

Luna was next in. The light of the fire licked in her wide, staring eyes, and she grabbed her head against the voice now back in earnest. The fear the others had been able to control overwhelmed her, and she slumped to her knees in terror.

“Put that fucking shit out!” Izac yelled as I finally descended the stairs and into the kitchen.

The fear hit like a fist to my chest but I had the presence of mind to grab the frypan lid and slam it down on the flames.  Just like that, the emergency was over. The household of post-mortal humans had survived the fat fire incident.

I noticed Stallion move over to the collapsed Luna and crouch down beside her.  Her terrified face lifted to him, and suddenly Luna’s expression cleared. The fear was gone.  She reached out and hugged Stallion in relief, making him nervous again.

“Hey! Hey!  I thought we were all brothers and sisters here.”

“Are we quite finished burning down my house?” I asked, noting that Izac too, moved to Luna’s side and helped her up. She now clung to him as she had to Stallion. I don’t know what she’d gone through with Giovanni but it was clear it had wounded our firecracker deeply, and I didn’t like it.  

“Hey!  What’s with all this hugging?” Stallion looked on, confused.

There was a polite knock at the door.  I sighed.

“That will be the neighbours, “ I said, grateful that this time they hadn’t called the police, “I’ll get it.”

In the distance from the kitchen to the front door, I took a few cleaning breaths and focused on my mask of professional-friendly.

 A silly stovetop fire was easily dealt with. Thanks for the concern. 

By the time my hand touched the doorknob, my mask was in place, and I felt confident in handling what was beyond.

But He was there. 

It was like the hallway at the party all over again. The air evaporated from my lungs. I felt I was falling.

His warm, tanned skin and deep brown eyes were exactly as I remembered. He leaned against the doorframe, taller than me. I nearly tripped backwards at his mere presence.

“Garcia?” Such a short name for such weight.

“Hello, my childe. May I come in?” His voice was rich and soft, honey in my ears. I stepped back stiffly and gestured for him to enter. He walked straight through to the gallery and sat on one of the lounges placed for viewing the art. He slouched artistically, looking around at the gallery, my coterie awkwardly standing in a huddle, and at me, still frozen at the door. 

“You’ve done well, my child,” I couldn’t help but stand a little taller, “in such a short time, you have exceeded even my expectations of you.”
“The Prince has been very generous,” I finally closed the door and followed him into the gallery.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Ah!  Idiot! 

“Yes, of course, “ I scuttled across to the kitchen, took Luna by the arm, whispering to her, “Garcia!” At the mention of his name, Luna straightened, becoming the appearance of her old self. “This is Luna, Stallion and a recent arrival, Izac.”

Garcia’s eyes lit up at the mention of Izac’s name.  His glance hovered over Izac appraisingly as if deciding if to buy him from the gallery.

“Ah, the famous unknown.  Yes, I can see why all eyes are on you.”

We all turned to stare at Izac, who looked as confused as the rest of us.

“Me?”

“Oh yes. Izac, the mysterious.  No one knows anything about you, so everyone wants to know everything.” He gestured grandly in a way, I believe, only I appreciated.

By this time (and probably because I wanted Garcia’s attention on me) I regained my ability to speak.

“Not to be rude, but why are you here, Garcia?”

“We’ve been advised to see how our childe are doing. So we know what we should know.  The others will come along shortly.  As for me, I am not disappointed.”
“The same old chess game, “ Luna snorted with derision.  Part of me was horrified that she would speak to Garcia, my Garcia that way. Another part cheered that the Loony Luna spark was still there.

My sire, quirked his mouth into a knowing smile. “The Prince’s way of entertaining himself, perhaps.” His eyes settled on something beyond us, still out in the kitchen.

“Nice pet. Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift from Mr Giovanni,” Stallion supplied.

“A dog for a mongrel.  How apt.” Garcia quipped as if making a joke at a dinner party.  No one laughed.

“Um, is there something I could do for you?” If he had said yes, I would have run for my coat and damn Giovanni’s call for retribution.

“Plenty, but later, my childe. Right now, I want to see you grow.  You know flowers are prettiest surrounded by filth.”
Another snort from Luna, “you’d know.”  

Ouch!  I was offended…..for her, of course. 

“You have been insolent to me twice.  Now, apologise.” Garcia turned the full force of his indignation on Luna, and she bowed.

“I apologise, sincerely.”

“Nice to see the cur has manners,” Garcia smirked.  As beautiful as it was, that smirk, irked me. Now that he’d silenced Luna, he returned to me.

“And now I’m here. I am pleased to offer you a gift, whatever you want. If it is in my power, you shall have it.”

I didn’t hesitate, it had been on the tip of my tongue since his arrival.

“The only thing I ever wanted from you was to walk by your side through these nights.  For you to open this world to me and teach me what you know.”
“Ah, but that could never be.” Was I delusional, or was there a little regret in his tone?

“But Mr Giovanni is…Giovanni and…”

“And a better sire you’re not likely to get.” To me, that sounded too glib to be true. “But tell me, what is your boon?”

“I…I don’t need anything.” I replied hollowly. 

“Well, possibly not need, but want?”

“I…want…you.” There.  I’d finally said it.  All my stupid romantic yearnings in three small words. 

The regret was genuine this time, “I’m afraid we were never destined to share the spotlight.” And with that, he stood.  He was leaving.  

Again. 

I followed him to the door.  As he stepped over the threshold, I finally gathered enough courage to ask, “Did you only come because the Prince told you to?” 

He smiled, and this time I found that it didn’t make me forget my months feeling his absence, or his arrogance.

“Yes, but we’ll meet again. At the event in a couple of weeks I’m sure. We can spend the night together and pretend that we’re friends.”

Yes, pretend.

“Always the mask, my childe. The Masquerade.”

Now I could stand on that ground, “I can do that.”

I came back from the door, massaging the hole that was my heart, when Luna spat at Stallion.

“Act like a mut and I’ll treat you like one!” Luna roared and then saw my shocked expression, “he tried to lecture me!”

“We’ve all had enough lectures for one…” My phone buzzed again.  Another message from the Prince. 

TELL THE STALLION TO GO OUT THE BACK.

I didn’t know what to make of it until I remembered what Garcia had said. 

“Ah, Stallion. I think there’s someone outside for you.  In the back alley.”

“What?  Why do you say that?” He asked for good and valid reasons.  I could hardly say because the Prince told me, he’d want to know why the message went to my phone instead of his.  

“Just a hunch. Tell you what, if there’s nothing there, you can punch me.” I knew that would get him moving.

“If you don’t go now, I’ll punch you!” Luna glared at him.

“You’re on!” Stallion said and marched back through the kitchen, out the back door and through the garden.  Not wanting to miss what surprise lay for Stallion, I scrambled after him. 

A man, in his mid-thirties, lean and shirtless stood waiting. 

“You must be one of mine,” he said, drawling in the local common accent.

“Who are you, then?” Stallion asked like a pit bull guarding his territory, careful but confident.

“You can call me Daddy,” The man grinned, and it looked like a snarl. 

“My sire?” Stallion was surprised. So was I, I’d always thought his sire was a woman. 

“Not all moping around and sad then. Not all ‘…why was I made and left for this terrible life…’, Good job.” At least he had a positive word for Stallion.  That was nice. 

Stallion stood silently watching this man who claimed to be his maker.  Maybe only three hours before, he would have called the man a liar.  Now he accepted the claim that here was his vampire progenitor.

“Want a joint?”

“Sure, why not?” The man reached out and accepted the offered joint, “got a little blood in it?”

“Ah, no,” Stallion and admitted. The man made no comment, just made a small cut on his finger and stained the paper red.

“How about you, Rain?” Stallion offered another joint.

“After tonight, I need it, thank you.”  

Stallion did the same to mine, before lighting it and handing it back to me.  I tried to ignore the smouldering end of the joint and let the drug have its effect as the two men talked. 

“So you accustomed to this life then?  All settled in?” Stallion’s sire leaned back against our fence, picking a stray piece of leaf from his lips.

“Yeah, it’s worked out alright.  I have business with Mr Giovanni.”

“A slimeball but honest with it.  Don’t spit in the man’s face, and you’ll do fine.”

“At least when he’s looking, right?” Stallion joked, and the man’s snarl cracked into a genuine grin.

“That’s my boy.  I have a favour for you.  What do you want?”

“I could do with a car.  I got a bike a while ago but really want a car.”

“Don’t think that’s a problem.  Should be here in a week.”

“Cheers!”  Stallion was pleased now.  This was turning into an excellent night for him.

“Anything you want to ask your old man?”

“Can we exchange numbers so we can talk again?”

“Na, don’t have a phone.”

“Is there a way I can get in touch with you?”

“You can try with the Rats. They’ll let me know.”
“The Nosferatu?”

“Yeah. The weeping sores.”

“What name do I use?  I can’t say, ‘I need to talk to Daddy.’”

That had the elder vampire thinking, “What can you call me?  Yeah, tell them you want to speak to the White Shark.”

“White shark, huh? Cool.”

“Yeah, Great White would have been better, but it was taken already.” White Shark laughed, “Tell you what, we’ll get together one night and take a bunch of stuff.  What do ya say?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

The laser pointers White shark had for eyes swivelled in my direction.

“Whose this then?”

“This is Rain, “ Stallion introduced me, and I felt White shark’s eyes examine me.

“What are you some Ventrue?  Or one of those generates who love music and art and shit?”

I smiled at the description of my life’s pursuits as shit. At least he didn’t mention magic.

“The later. Toreador.” I replied with a nod.

“That’s the one. Well, if you’re right, I’m off, feeling a bit peckish. Though you have a little snack inside I could take a bite of.”
Lenny.  He was referring to Lenny.

“I believe he’s protected,” I replied cooly, and Stallion’s sire gave me one of his snarls. I’m still not sure of if he was joking or not.

He ambled away into the darkness and we returned via the garage, Stallion rather more pleased than I had by my sire’s surprise visit.  Inside, the others were already drawn to the front of the house by a rusted-out wreck of a car parked out front.  Something caught their attention, and Luna looked up the staircase to where a man sat glaring at all of us.

“Can I help you?” She asked the man.

“I thought you could at one time.  Not sure now.” The third of our Christmas spirits had arrived.

“What?”

“That’s why I made you.  I thought you had more fire in you. When I saw you at the university, you had such passion.  Now, the only fire in this building was in that frypan.”

We were all silent at that scathing revelation.  How long had he been up there listening?

“Nothing to say to that?” He goaded.  Out of the three sires, I was getting a distinct dislike for this one, and Stallion’s had threatened Lenny’s life.

“I thought you would change something, be someone, or did I drink it out of you?”

“You wish!” Luna’s spark kindled in the heat from her sire’s words.

“The other two didn’t mention.  We’re here to fix mistakes. I don’t want you to be a mistake, my mistake.  Prove to me otherwise.” Threatening Luna.  Yes, this one was the worst.

“Oh, so it’s fire you want?”

“It was disgusting how you apologised to that flower. Don’t you have any self-respect?”
“Some traditions have to be followed!” She spat, furiously spraying someone else’s words at her sire, “I’ll start a fire alright, but I will be the one in control, not you!”

“Do you think Giovanni is a rule follower?” Now that little barb rang true. Was that what Giovanni had used to break our Luna?

“Be your own massacre!”

“What?  And be like you?”

“I didn’t stick around to give you that choice.”

At the mention of choices, Izac audibly sighed.  It drew the attention of our unwelcome visitor.

“Hmm, is that the mystery boy?”

“Leave him alone,” Luna bit back with a snarl and placed herself in front of Izac.

“I’ll leave him alone, but the others won’t.” We’d heard the same from Garcia.  What heat was Izac bringing down on us?  

There was a small pause, and I took the opportunity to ask a question of my own.

“How did you get in here?” Until the fire and the arrival of our instructive spirits, I had been upstairs.

“An open window.  You have no security.” He obligingly pointed to a window at the end of the hall on the first floor.  

“I’ll see that’s rectified in the future. Though I’m still not sure how you could have been there the whole time and none of us saw you.  I came down these stairs myself.”

“I have ways of not being seen,” He was being polite, but it was hard to tell if he was getting tired of me interrupting this visit with his childe or that was just his usual expression.

“Anyway, I’m here to offer you a gift.  An offering from your sire.”

“What? Kindling?” Luna was back. 

“If you like.  Come on, do you think I’m made of time?” Said the immortal.

“Teach me how to move without a trace.  I want in.”

For the first time, Luna’s sire grinned, “Feel the steps.  Come to me.”

Carefully, focused on every footstep, Luna mounted the stairs and stood before her sire.  Exposing his forearm, he cut a slit longwise and offered it to her.  She drank, the gift was given. Without him offering or Luna asking for his name, he walked down the stairs and left via the front door.  

I looked to Izac who looked ready to bolt. “Are we done now?” I asked wondering if his mysterious past was going to grace us.

“Yeah, we’re fucking done.” And with a sweep of his coat, Izac stormed out into the night.  

The fun and games were over.  Garcia was back and had dashed all my vision of this life.  It was time to face that music being played at the Crowbar.  I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Giovanni.

ARE YOU FREE FOR THAT CHAT?

YES EVERYTHING IS PREPARED.

LUNA IS NOT WELL.  SHE SHOULD STAY BEHIND. I knew she’d also received the summons.  She’d been through enough for one night and if I was to stand alone, I better start now.

YOU’LL NEED LUNA. Yes, and yet I don’t think I could have faced whatever was coming, seeing her relive it all.

SHE’S HAD ENOUGH FOR ONE NIGHT.

LUNA OR Giuseppe? So, I was to have the choice that Luna was never given.  That confirmed it for me. 

Giuseppe. 

Luna saw what I was texting.  

“I’m going with you.  I’m there for you.” She protested, and I couldn’t believe she’d ever want to return to the Crowbar again. If I had my way, I’d have packed my bag and be on the next train out of Sydney.

“You did it alone. No, I think I have to do it alone.”

“No, you don’t really.”

“It’s settled.” 

Stallion was heading out the door, his bike keys in hand. I asked if he’d give me a lift.

“Sure, but don’t think I like having a guy riding pillion, right?” 

I certainly wasn’t enjoying the experience.

In an unknown alley across town.  Izac stalked through the shadows like one of his stray cats.  A light was still on at a window.  He stared up at it, feeling the burn, the hunger that would be quickly satisfied by one visit to that window.  It would be so easy, and it would be…no.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.  With a force of will, he turned and walked away.

Stallion was a competent motorcyclist, and we made it to the Crowbar without injury or police enquiry.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” He asked, recognising my dark mood.

“No.  I said I’d do it alone. To be honest, I would have run from things like this in the past.”

“Run?  Why?”

“Mr Giovanni’s books.  Izac found two at Pyrmont.  Luna and I are getting the blame.”

“You took the books?”

“Luna took one and admitted to it.  The other…I know it was in the library after the Mage battle.”

“So, just explain.  Mr Giovanni is a reasonable guy.” I could see his experience of Mr Giovanni was quite different from mine.  And the worst thing was, there was no way of explaining it.

“And so I will.” I simply agreed and walked into the bar.

Down and down. Past the VIP room and the cold store, with every step, my legs quaked. The stairs ended at a sturdy door that opened into a room with concrete walls. There was an expensive red oak table with six chairs, three filled with Giovanni, Bruce, and Giuseppe. One lone hooded light lit the table, leaving everything beyond its scope in darkness. They were all very polite. Giuseppe held out my chair so I could sit comfortably close. 

It felt like an execution.

“Now, Rain, there has been a serious breach in trust, and we need to get to the bottom of it. I have video footage from the library showing it was stolen the night of the marauder job. But I would like you to tell me how my book ended up at your house.”

“Mr Giovanni, I have nothing to do with that book ending up in Luna’s room,” I said truthfully, “if you have some evidence, I’d like to see it.”

Bruce set up a monitor and clicked a file.  It showed Luna happily enthroned, Izac at the shelves searching for something as I walked in. I watched the stumble I used to conceal the ditch and was pleased that the video showed no trace of me taking the book from my pocket and placing it on the shelf.  What it did reveal was the book clearly there as, first me, then Izac and Luna left the room. There was a moment of static from the feed and when the image returned, the book was missing. 

“Well?” Giovanni prompted.

“Well what?  The book was there when I left.” I knew it wouldn’t matter but I was going to fight it anyway I could.  From behind me, I could feel Giuseppe lean in close.  His lips smacked as he whispered in my ear.

“You could always show him.  Show him like you showed me.”

So, it came down to four choices.  Continue to feign ignorance, which was going to get me punished but seemed survivable.  Confess to the demon’s crime, which was the truth and would have me staked out for the next rays of dawn. Blame my dead mother for the crime,  reminding the necromantic sadist across the table from me of her existence.  Or expose my new ability, which I barely understood and show him an…interpretation of what happened. If Giuseppe hadn’t got around to telling Giovanni about my trip into his head, it would have happened eventually. Of all the options, with the last it seemed like I could scrape a win.

While I considered my options, I never let up staring Giovanni in the eye. Inside, I was a quaking mess, but the mask held firm, and I sat behind it like a shield. 

“I have…recently acquired a new ability.  With your permission, I’d like to enter your mind.”
“For what purpose?” Giovanni, sitting back in the shadow beyond the hooded lamp light, moved forward, his features appearing out of the gloom. 

“To show you my side of events.”

There was a pause as his paranoid mind worked out gain vs loss. I bet his curiosity would get the better of him. In the end, he agreed. Slipping into his mind was easier even than the sleeping Giuseppe, as he was willing and waiting. I knew if I probed, I could go deeper, but then I’d also be dead.  

No, do what you’re here for and get out.  Remember what you saw in Giuseppe’s mind.

I replayed that scene from my perspective. 

Walking in and chatting with Izac and Luna. Tripping on the rug (leaving out the ditch with a blur of memory) and catching hold of Izac.  His concern turns to loathing as I mention feeling weak after the battle and needing to get ‘a snack’. I leave, and the book is there.  I head down to the bar, and I find a lovely, charming young woman named Michelle, and feed. 

We returned to the pool of light in the concrete chamber.  I can see him thinking over what I’d shown him. Was it enough? Was my obfuscation subtle enough?  I couldn’t tell. I sat with my mask as my shield as always, eager, earnest and safe. That’s me.

“Interesting,” was all he said after minutes of silence, “however, the fact still stands that the book was found at your house.”

My house.  Yes.  My house, my responsibility.

“Disrespect needs to be punished.” And with that, the final verdict was made.  He started rolling up the sleeve of his right arm. 

“This is what will happen.  You will bite me and take two sips, only two. Is that understood?”

That was it? A blood bond? I’d done something similar with the Prince, but I had no idea what it would mean to take Giovanni’s. 

“And what if I refuse?” 

“You won’t be leaving this room.”

There was no choice. “Then I accept.”  

He stood, his left hand in his suit pocket, the right extended to me.  His hidden hand reminded me of the watch in my vest pocket. I stood, taking his right hand in mine, my left touching the watch hidden from sight.  

I bit his wrist and blood filled my mouth. No, not blood, razor blades with acid, slicing and burning my mouth, my sinuses and down my throat. I choked instinctively and pulled away, but I couldn’t. I was locked in until the second swallow.  The burning and slicing continued.  I quickly drew another mouthful, expecting more of the same but this time the sensation was distant, as if I were watching someone else go through it. I was so surprised that I nearly forgot to choke down the blood as I had the first time and quickly pulled away.  As soon as I did, Mr Giovanni’s hands locked around my right arm and bit.  The pain this time was even worse, or at least I knew it was.  Intellectually, I understood it felt like he was tearing my hand off with acid-tipped knives.   I cried out in shock at the suddenness of his attack and continued to cry out in pain.  When he let go, I fell back into my chair in shock, clutching my arm and healing the punctures. I didn’t offer to heal his. After a moment, I saw the wounds on his wrist disappear, and he rolled down his shirt sleeve.

I could feel him assessing me, trying to work out if the ‘punishment’ had done the trick. I panted, feeling the all too real tears of blood rolling down my face. I wiped them away with a shaking hand.  The whole incident had been harrowing.  Luna!  Alone and unprotected.  I shuddered, and that, too, was genuine. 

Glasses of alcohol-laced blood were placed before us both, and he gestured to drink.

“I am your sire…adopted-sire. I can have you destroyed at the slightest insult.  Do not steal from me, it will only get you killed.” And with that, it was done.  Sire. Adopted-sire. I thought of Garcia, charismatic and beautiful in comparison to this cold, manipulative businessman and shuddered again.  A child never gets to choose their parents. 

We drank our drinks.  The Glenfiddich in the blood burned down my throat like the cheap bourbon from Giuseppe’s veins, but even now, the pain was fading to memory.

“Are we finished?” I asked, my voice raspy.

“I must say, you’re taking this better than Luna did,” he mused, not answering my question.  Or maybe he did.  

 I hadn’t responded as he expected.  Time for the honest truth.

“After what I’ve experienced in my life Mr Giovanni, you don’t rate,” I glanced over my glass rim at him, “Respectfully.”

Shock had made me reckless.

He said nothing, neither accepting my answer or acknowledging the insult.  “I mean, are we square?” I asked a second time.

“We’re square.”

“Good,” I straightened in my seat and returned the polite, professional mask, “I would not want this to taint a business deal.”

It was almost comical. If he’d been a dog, his ears would have pricked up, and his nose would have twitched.

“Business?”

“I have a small proposition underway.  In Pyrmont, not in your domain.  I am now ready to make a deal for some of your vintages.” It came out so smooth, so easy.  I had been rehearsing this speech for weeks, but life had conspired to make it impossible for me to speak about it before now.

“Oh? You want kegs.”

“A small amount to start,“ I thought of the tree and how useful it would be for disposing of the bodies but not yet. It and I were not ready, “Bags. I’d pick them up daily.”
“We can deliver, it’s all part of the service,” he smiled, fully invested in the role of shrewd businessman. “Where do you want them sent?”

“To the house,” he made a concerned face, “not by choice, I can assure you.”
“Still, how big could it be?”
“Very small, but it is a start.”
“You’ll want to remove it from your residence as soon as possible.”
“Wise words. I intend to do just that.”
“You know I could set you up. We can find you a place. Say, basement and two stories.  For thirty percent of the profits, you could have your own establishment within the month.”

“A generous offer,” Thirty percent? “But it is something I have to do alone.”

He didn’t like that little business opportunity slipping away. “Very well. So, who are your clients?”

“Kin.”

“Do you know their tastes?”

“No. I thought something general to start.  Maybe a bourbon in the mix.” That was for Stallion. If nothing else he could get suitably smashed.  

“Okay, a small selection. Bruce will organise delivery with you. I’m sure you’d prefer that.” 

“Thank you,” I replied automatically, thinking maybe it would be better if it were Giuseppe. Luna needs someone to sharpen her claws on.

“What a night,” Izac returned to Pyrmont to find Luna waiting for him as he had waited for her, “I learnt a lot about all of you tonight.”

“I didn’t know,” Luna said as they entered the house and closed the listening night against their conversation.

“What?”

“I didn’t know he was my sire.”
“Yeah, that was a whole experience,” He rolled his eyes, and she laughed for the first time that evening, “So, what do you want to do?”
“I really don’t know. As you say, it’s really been a night!”

“No,” He replied awkwardly, at the miscommunication, “I mean, what do you want to do now?  The night is still young. Have you ever been to the Pizzeria?”

“I can’t eat pizza.  Wait, The one in the Piazza? In Leichhardt? The one with the backroom?”

“Well, you can always stay here in the dark, I guess,” He teased, and a smile transformed her face.

“When you put it that way…” 

9.50pm, 7 hours until sunrise.

************************************************************************************

Thoughts from Izac:

Why 

She is safe.

 I had all these things to say but fell flat as both Rain and Luna reminded me that I am in no position to give a lecture. I don’t know what to make of all if it anymore.

 She prays still. For a fiery type I didn’t expect it of her. Didn’t really see the inside of a church before. Her beast talks to her again. Either its by design or its taking advantage of the situation. Not a surprising means to take for a parasite. Can’t act on its own and has to manipulate others to do its dirty work.  Its silent for now… 

Stallion set fire to the kitchen; Luna almost lost herself to the Beast. I tried but I couldn’t do anything about it. Good that Stal was able to keep things calm. This night was getting a bit too intense for my liking. 

There was a knock on the door …. Nothing. 

Nothing is what you left me. All I wanted was to be left alone, you could’ve passed me over that night but no I had a life, friends, family After you I had nothing. Nothing but hunger and you let me wreak havoc and for what?  Entertainment?  If I am here on my own, your concerns come last. I am not your tool.

 Stop, breathe, again 

I can’t walk this city; I can’t keep to my own. Everyone has their eyes fixed on me. The spotlight is over me and now I have to play the act. I can’t just be. Too quiet too many secrets. I can’t let them out. Maybe a show. Something to show them I am just like them. A predator amongst sheep.  There are places, and eyes are everywhere. One isn’t far… 

Stop, breathe 

The others are the same, pawns in a larger game. The worst thing is that they play the part. Either ambition or compulsion they do.  

Stop , brea- Enough with the mantras. Enough with the suppression. I know what I am. I know what awaits me. There is no forgiveness. There is no redemption. If this perdition is my reward for your failure, then maybe I shouldn’t care abou- 

I am Izac Grimoil, and I am more than my beast

I am Izac, and I am more than my beast 

I am more than my beast 

I am Izac I am I have to try; I owe it to all of them to try.

I’ll leave a message. 

The meeting is off. 

************************************************************************************

Thoughts from  Luna: 

With the Father, Son, ‘till then, I Fight 

The farther you run from your destiny, the closer you follow it. 

She thought her days of insults and punch ups, bloody lips and bruised knuckles ended in high school. When people learnt to leave her the fuck alone. 

A born exile. 

Her passion was simple. Rank above everyone else. No one could match her steadfast determination of acquiring knowledge. They would not try to stop her. It’s lonely at the top. Peaceful. 

The fall is long. 

All you do is fight. 

That’s all I know, she tried to reason. 

Fight, fight, fight. 

Luna would tear her flesh, carve her bones to prove a point. Track, suffer, stumble through every ring of hell to uphold her vindication. 

She fights against herself, she loses.

 Every. Time. 

She still fights.

 It is when the visage of death looms does she pull back. Call a fight when she knows she lost, packing up the cost and taking it with her. Steal a book and face a second of eternal pain. Push, push, push until the intruder puts you back in your place. 

“An anarch you could be, but not this city.” 

She hates him. Hates him more knowing this man is Garcia. 

Such a childish thing hate is. Burns like a thousand suns and vanishes with a strong wind of reason. 

She would fight him. Throw another punch at Stallion to prove a point. She’ll go down burning. No matter the collateral. Even if the only person she ends up hurting is herself. Good. Serves her right.

 Then he stands above her.

 The shock is short lived. Kinda like meeting her own father, Luna could care less. He was nothing before meeting her and he will be nothing after leaving her.

A man that is all talk and no action. 

Garcia was right about something, “not this city.” He will be cursed to fight a rule that does not seek to oppress him. Reminisce of a past that was never his. The French Revolution, really? 

The past is for the guilt ridden. I mean truly, can you long for something you’ve never had?

 “I like you angry.” 

Anger gives her pain. Anger gives her space. Anger pushes the people she wants to care about away.

 “I like you lost.” 

That explains the mention of her university. 

An ember doomed to flicker out into nothingness. 

“I like you desperate.” 

And she is. Give more provocative comments and she’ll set this place ablaze. One more step and she knows the beast brews below her skin. One more string cut and she’ll take this fucking place down. 

A hand on her shoulder centres her. 

Protect him.

 It’s not a concept she’s familiar with. Companionship seemed like everyone else’s game. No connection she made stood true. Someone else always stood to benefit and she always stood to lose, remember? 

One mistake paid back tenfold. Is she in debt to him? Are they even? Does it matter? 

Izac wants to disappear from sight. Her sire flaunts his superiority from his power. She’ll have it. Take it cause she knows he can’t tell her no. 

That is power. 

Not hers per se but it is enough. 

It proves he is bound like the rest of them. Shackled by rules. 

Anarchist huh? In only title, it seems.

Notable NPCs

Avel:  Rain’s mother, a wraith.

Beelzebub: Fallen angel and entity in Rain’s pocket watch.

Bobby Lisner: Malkavian seer who lives in an old Sewer pipe in The Rocks.

Brendan Virgil: A.K.A. Miss Divine Intervention.  Rain’s close friend.

Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni

Cabolut Hazzim: the name given by a vampire who cleared out the homeless at Rain’s old squat

Detective Woodman:  NSW Policed premiere detective and a sufferer of schizophrenia.  He has an assistant currently called Notetaker.

Francis Tuttle: Name given in charge of the investigation into the deaths of homeless in Surry Hills.

Garcia: Sire.  Unknown location.

Giuseppe Giovanni: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni.  Some sort of relative of Mr Giovanni.

Lenny: Rain’s Ghoul and artist friend

Madeline Blackwell: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni, working at the State Coroners Court.

Night Rider: Red-haired vampire?  Works for the Prince.

Pangea: a Nosferatu (tunnel builder)

Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats

Prince Sarrasine (Sar-ras-seen): Toreador Ruler of Sydney*

Sparrow: a Nosferatu of the warren in Pyrmont, closest to home

Glossary of terms:

Anarchists: a faction of Vampires.  Caused issues in Los Angeles recently, killed the Prince.

Antediluvian: from before the time of the biblical flood.  The third generation that were the progenitors of the thirteen clans of vampires.

Blood hunt:  A process to destroy a vampire who has broken a tradition.  Specifically mentioned in the sixth.

Canaanites: Those descended from Cain, the first murderer and vampire.

Camarilla:  a faction of Vampires closest to the Princes.  Believe in hierarchy and order.

Clan or Bloodline:  From one the 13 antediluvians. 

Marauder: A mage gone mad.  Living in his own pocket dimension that answers to the whim of his broken mind.

Diablerie : the drinking another vampire blood and soul

Favour:  How Vampires pay for things they want or need doing.

Fetter: A place, person or thing that binds a wraith to the Shadowlands.

Ghouls: Servants of a vampire who have been fed vitae.  They are loyal, stronger, more resilient and sometimes show other powers gained from the blood. They must receive the blood at least once  a month  or they return to being human. Can be addictive.  

Hunter:  Members of the Society of Leopold, a branch of the Catholic Church.  Fanatical vampire hunters and killers.

Kin: Vampires, a name among themselves

Kine: Humans

Marauder:  a rouge mage, often mad. They are likely to act in a way that exposes the Otherworld of the Masquerade to exposure. 

Men in Black: An international unit dedicated to controlling supernatural and alien entities.

Sabbat: a faction of Vampires that believe that the progenitors of the clans will one day awake and eat all their young.

Masquerade : The rule that keeps vampire society safe.  Hiding ones nature from the world.

Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.

*Sarrasine, a novella by Balzac.  Sarrasine is a sculpture who is infatuated with an Opera Singer, Zambinella. She thinks herself cursed and deflects his advances.  At a performance, Zambinella is revealed to Sarrasine to be a castrato.  In a rage, Sarrasine attacks the singer, only to be cut down and killed by their bodyguard.

Midnight, 6 hours until Sunrise.  14 days until Succubus Club

They lay, Guissepi spooned against Stallion, snoring into the bedclothes.  What would have been hilarious under normal circumstances just made me sad. Good people had died, and here I was babysitting two sloveny drunks?  The two empty bottles reminded me of Guissepi’s offer, and this time, I couldn’t find it in me to resist.  Taking his wrist, I bit and let the alcohol-infused blood in.  He’d had his share of Jim Beam since the first offer, and it hit like a burning wave. It rushed to my head, and I welcomed it, washing away the loss and pain and fear.  I wanted to keep drinking, wanted to slip into the oblivion that now held the two sleeping men.  It would be so simple to just lay down beside them and drink and drink until…nothing.

Instead, I pulled away, watching his sleeping form and wishing he would just leave.  Get up, call and Uber and head back to the Crowbar where he belonged. 

Then Luna could come back where she belonged.

I stood above him, staring as the alcohol did its work, that image strong in my mind.  Suddenly, I was aware of other thoughts and images, not mine.  Familial faces I’d never seen thought knew, sadistic acts revelled in and encouraged with dark glee.  The swirling of a drunken mind surfacing to consciousness and two dark eyes glaring at me. 

Guissepi was awake, his eyes fixed on mine. Glaring with a curious brightness.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked, his speech more slurred than usual by alcohol and sleep.

“Huh?” I shook my head, trying to free it from the images I’d somehow seen. I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”

“You.  Scratching in my brain.”

Images. I knew the faces because they were all Giovanni’s. I’d seen Guissepi’s memories. Something of this realisation must have passed across my face as his expression turned from cool to calculating. 

“We need to talk about that.” A smirk passed across his liquid mouth as he slowly rose to leave. At the moment I didn’t think much of this last pronouncement.  I was just glad of his positive movement out the door. He dressed, in a manner, clothes piled onto limbs without thought, and I saw him down the stairs and out the door.  It had taken him a while, and the Uber was waiting. With him gone and Stallion oblivious, I was finally free of responsibility. 

ALL CLEAR, I texted Luna before heading back to the kitchen to check on Blanco.

“The coast is clear at home,” Luna announced to Izac.  They sat alone in the reference section after exhausting the library’s collection of true crime information. 

“What?” Izac looked up, confused.

“Guissepi was at the house. Rain just texted me that it’s safe to go back. What do you want to do? More research?”

“Yes, “Izac stretched and put the book he’d been reading aside in a pile as useless as the rest, “But not here.  Maybe in the Crowbar library.” 

“Okay, I guess that’s our next stop,” She replied and returned my text.

HEADING TO THE CROWBAR.

Their taxi pulled up outside just as a very recognisable figure stumbled from an Uber.

“Oh God!” Luna tried spinning around, but Guissepi’s perception was quicker than her reflexes.

“Hi, guys!  What a great night!  How’s it going?” He floundered towards them, finally draping himself across Luna and Izac’s shoulders.  He stank of booze and piss and something worse.

“Things are going great, Guissepi. Just great,” Izac replied with false cheeriness.

“Hey! Did Rain do something to you, too?” Guissepi whispered loud enough for the street to hear.

“What did he do to you?” Izac asked, a dark worm of suspicion wriggling in his gut.

“He did something in my head…and now I’m here.  Hey!  Let’s go down to the V.I.P. lounge together.” Guissepi started dragging Luna and Izac into the bar, “V.I.P.! V.I.P.! V.I.P.!”

Luna struggled free and finally disentangled the slightly sticky arm of Guiseppi from around her neck. Guissepi’s weight dropped to Izac’s shoulders, who struggled to hold the drunk up.

“What’s up, pretty Luna?”

“You can walk yourself there,” She was fed up with him.  First, running her out of her home and now dragging her around the bar?

“Come on!  Together!  The night is still young!  V.I.P.!” He repeated his mantra.

Izac balanced the extra weight of Guissepi, losing a fight with gravity.  He gave Luna a pleading glance for help.  Luna was keenly aware that they were drawing the whole bar’s attention.  They were on the brink of making a scene.

“Yeah, let’s go downstairs,” She sighed and taking Guissepi’s arm once more guided him down the stairs.

Awkwardly, Luna and Izac manoeuvred him into a booth and propped him up in the corner.

“Here, take a drink,” Guissepi offered his arm to Luna, punctured and scarred from countless feedings.  

“No…thank you.” 

“How about one of the vintages?  You’re hungry…I can tell…can always tell…”

“No, really, I’m not.” Luna was adamant. Guissepi had put her off drinking, at least for the night.

“Go on…you’re hungry…” Guissepi’s hand, now too heavy for his limbs to hold up, fell to the table. Slowly, his eyes closed, repeating his offer. 

They left him to sleep it off and went to the library to talk.

“So, what are you looking for?”

“I don’t know,” Izac confessed, looking at the familiar spines of books in Mr Giovanni’s collection, “I feel the city is full of eyes. It’s like I’m always being watched.  I was hoping we’d find something that could help.”

“It’s true there are cameras everywhere, “Luna sympathised, “but I get the feeling you’re not talking about electronic surveillance?”

“Maybe yes and no,” Izac wasn’t making much sense, not even to himself, “I just want something that can turn the eyes away. Disappear.”

“Make you impercepible,” Luna lamented.  That would have been handy a moment ago. “So, magic?  Something practical?”

“Yes?” He finally said, shrugging his shoulders, “I’d just like a book titled, ‘How to become not seen’.”

In a book on the bloodlines, they found exactly what Izac was talking about. The Nosferatu were known for their ability to go unseen. They call it Obfuscating. The irony was not lost on Izac that the people he wished to hide from were also the ones he would have to seek out to learn the skill. Frustrated, Izac gave up on research and suggested they head back to Pyrmont.

“Maybe you can just work at being ordinary, you know?” Luna offered, “Being so completely every day that no one pays any attention.”
“Maybe a plan B?” Hehe suggested with a sigh, and they left the library and headed back to Pyrmont.

Mr Giovanni was also heading home after an unsuccessful research trip.  When he returned, it was to find a past out Guissepi and his library in ruins.  As he sorted through the collection, he noticed several titles missing.  He wasted no time sending a text message to the whole coterie.

MISSING BOOKS.  THEY NEED TO REAPPEAR IN THE NEXT HOUR.

Izac and Luna were on the light rail back to Pyrmont when the message came through. Luna couldn’t help looking guilty as she read the text, though she didn’t know what books he could be referring to. Besides the Book of Nod Mr Giovanni had given her, she’d kept her use of his books to the Library.

“Luna…?” Izac had picked up on her guilty expression and was now scowing at her in deep concern.

“I haven’t taken any.  At least, I don’t think I have.  If I have, I don’t know which ones.”

“Where are the books, Luna?”

“I don’t know.  I have no memory of taking any.”

“How about Rain?” He suggested.  It would just be like that little sneak.

“Maybe…” Luna agreed grudgingly and sent a text.

DO YOU HAVE THEM?

There was no reply.

The house was silent when they returned.  Stallion was still sleeping, and it took them some time to think about heading to the kitchen.  They found me beside the dog bed, my legs pulled up, slumped against the corner cupboards. I’d gone down to check on Blanco and hadn’t found the strength to leave. The first thing I knew, Luna was encouraging me to stand, and Izac glanced away as if my pain were somehow too bright to view.  I don’t remember the climb upstairs, but I remember Luna sitting on the side of my bed, taking my hands in hers.

“Can you look for those books?” she quietly asked Izac, and he quickly started searching my room. He spent a moment looking at the plant, now a bonsai sitting on a small table to one side. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he left to check other rooms.

It was hard to drag my eyes across to focus on her. It was even harder to accept that she was there and worried about me. I nearly pulled away. Surely, any sort of concern was just a pretext for wanting something? That’s what life had taught me—what I deserved, at the least. But as our eyes locked, I could see the concern and sensed the desire to comfort in her touch and voice. 

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay before.” I finally whispered.

“Not your fault.”

“My friend died.”

She paused a beat, taking in what I’d said.

“You can’t save everyone.  They all come with expiry tickets.”

“They were murdered.  A kin named Cabolut Hazzim.  He said it was my fault,” I fumbled with my phone to find the image.  Luna took one glance and put the phone aside on the bedside table. “He said he…he did me a favour.”

“Like with Stallion…” She started, and I didn’t want to hear it.  Wasn’t that why I’d done it in the first place?

“I was trying to stop that, don’t you understand?”

“I know.”

“I wish…life shouldn’t be easy. I don’t mind working for what I want…”
“Yeah, life doesn’t come with an easy mode.” Her words were so full of meaning I knew she understood. 

“Look, the past is dead.” She added with such finality, my mind repeated the phrase, like a mantra,  trying to make sense of it.

“The future is what we make of it.”

I’ve never been one for suicide, but right at that moment, I was finding it hard to imagine a future.

“We have a family saying, ‘The faster you run away from your destiny, the quicker it comes.’”

All I could see coming for me at that moment was Cabolut Hazzim waiting for me under that tree.

“They knew nothing!” I said through a throat so tight I never thought I’d speak again, “They died for nothing, and it’s my fault.”

“Hey!  Your hands can only hold so much blood.” As grisly as that image was, it worked.  I didn’t hold all the blame.

“In this life, all we have is time. Forever, right?  Time to grieve and forget.” Those words stun me.  Yes, forever of mourning and grieving and loss.  Seeing friends die around me. God, how can I survive this life? 

Luna continued, “And we have the chance to find the beauty in life and preserve it forever.”

Preserve beauty like Lenny’s art. There could be others that could be kept forever and never die. I heard myself repeat her words—a new mantra, one I could live by.

You still can do some good, though,  Slithered a voice into the backs of both our minds.  Her eyes and my hand went to the watch at my waist.

“I’m working on it,” I gestured to the tiny tree on the table opposite. My Gulthias tree thriving in the darkness.

Feed it more, and the faster it will grow.

“I can’t,” I cried genuine tears.  Between what had happened, keeping Lenny and the tree, I was exhausted, “I can’t feed it more.”

The watch said, Everything in its own time, reminding me of a reading I’d heard at a Mr Morris’ funeral. 

¹To everything there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven: 

²a time to be born, and a time to die;… ³a time to kill, and a time to heal;… ⁴a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;…⁶a time to get, and a time to lose; … a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; ⁸a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

¹²I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life.” Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8, 12 

No one had replied to Mr Giovanni’s message. He went in to look for Bruce, who was working the front of the house in the bar.  

“I need you to check the camera.  The younglings have been wayward with my books.”

“Yes, sir, it will probably take me a few hours to review the footage.”

“That’s not a problem.  I’ve given them an Amnesty of an hour. If they haven’t returned the books by then…”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll get right onto it.”

Izac soon found the books. He was sure the Book of Nod belonged to Luna, but when he found the white leather-bound Days of Fire and another Latin book among Luna’s things, he was convinced he’d found what he was looking for. He sent a message straight to Mr Giovanni.

FOUND BOOKS.  COLLECTING THEM NOW. AN HOUR IS A BIT STEEP.

I DON’T SEE HOW THAT’S MY PROBLEM, Came the reply.

HOW MANY BOOKS ARE MISSING?

TWO.

Izac looked in on Luna and me as he left.

“We’ll talk about this later,” He said, waving the two books at her before grabbing the motorcycle keys near the door and riding back to the Crowbar.

The bar was quiet now, and Izac couldn’t see anyone he knew in the bar.  He sent a text.

I’M HERE.  WHERE ARE YOU?

OFFICE.

He found Mr Giovanni going through his books, ensuring they were back where they should be tidy on the shelves. 

“Very good,” he said as Izac handed over the books.

“Did you have to bring out the guns?” 

“It would have depended on the book,” Mr Giovanni replied without humour, “Many of these books are without value. That is to say, priceless.”

“The Days of Fire?”

“Contains the fall of heaven…from a certain perspective.”

“Who’d want to know about that?”
“Seekers of the truth. Historians. It may not be a Masquerade breach in itself, but if it were to get into the wrong hands…”

“The other book, the one in Latin?”
“Certain…rituals.  Nothing to concern yourself with. In fact, it’s better that you forget it.” Mr Giovanni left the library, and once Izac followed him, he closed the door.

“I have built that library over a long time.  Stealing from it is definitely a sign of disrespect to me.”

He returned to his desk and sat down, “You found these in Luna’s room?”

“They’re back now, so what’s the problem?”

“No problem.  It does mean I will be having a friendly chat.”

Izac’s eyes narrowed. He was done hiding his disgust for Mr Giovanni’s morals, and Mr Giovanni didn’t seem bothered.

“Oh, you’ve done nothing wrong. Miss Luna and I need to have a friendly chat.  These books can’t be replaced.”

“Cool,” Izac said, his tone suggesting it was frigid.

Mr Giovanni changed the subject, “Anything interesting inside the house?”

“No,” Was Izac adamant response. What was he now?  A spy? His response made Mr Giovanni look up and examine him closely. It was the truth. He’d found nothing out of place. 

“Good.  Now, is there something I can help you with?  Something you’d like to read, perhaps?”

“I’ll find it on my own, thanks,” Izac said between clenched teeth.

“Nothing I can help you with?”

Izac had to admit, there was one thing. He’d been worrying over this for a while, even before going to see Mother Pasta.

“I need a place, just for a short while.  I have to talk to someone.  In a few days.”

“Who? If you don’t mind.”
“I do mind, actually.”

“If it is to be on my turf…”

Dammit.  

“For your discretion. What do you want in return?”

Mr Giovanni leaned back, steepling his hand before him, his eyes alight with possibilities. This was business, and besides family, there was nothing that Mr Giovanni loved more. 

“ A small favour to be recalled on a later date of my choosing.”

“A small favour.”
“Don’t worry, nothing you won’t be able to do, I assure you.”

Izac agreed, and Mr Giovanni was soon on the phone at the Italian restaurant in Piazza.

“Please book a dinner for two under the name Izac.  Put it on my tab.”

“I asked for discretion,” Izac complained at the use of his name.

Mr Giovanni placed his hand over the receiver while waiting for the booking to be confirmed, “I have to put it under someone’s name.  What would happen if I put it under my own and I don’t show up?”

The maître de returned to the line and confirmed the time and date.

“Oh, and make sure there’s something…animalish on the menu.

“Are we done here?” Izac scowled as Mr Giovanni finished the call.

“You are welcome to stay.”
“I intend to stay out of your presence as long as possible.” 

He was about to march out but remembered one more thing.

“Oh, and depending on how Luna’s conversation with you goes, I may or may not have an asset for you to exploit. She made a mistake. We all do.”

Mr Giovanni had been polite, instructive and even helpful.  And now he was none of those things.

“Don’t push it.  You’re under my protection, in my domain.  They follow my rules, and I protect them.  The same goes for you.”

“So, just stand aside and let things happen, huh?”

Mr Giovanni slumped his shoulders as he let the indignation go, “It may seem harsh, but it is the truth.”

A short time later, as Izac carefully drove the bike back to Pyrmont, Mr Giovanni texted Luna, who had just finished her homework that night.

MY OFFICE TOMORROR NIGHT.  COME ALONE.

5 pm, 13 hours until Sunrise.  13 days until The Succubus Club

Stallion awoke with a start, feeling disgustingly fit after the previous night’s bout of drinking.  Maybe it had been a dream, but the thought of sunlight appeared in his conscious mind.  Hadn’t he seen sunlight (though a drab sort) in the Mage’s pocket world?  Why had he locked himself into this life of nights when he’d always loved the sun?  

They said he was a vampire and had to sleep during the day, but what did they know?  Vampires can’t eat a steak like he can or chug down half a bottle of Jim Beam like he had last night. 

Maybe they were lying.

He’d been lied to before.

Jumping out of bed, he lightly padded down the stairs through the kitchen and to the back door. The door opened onto a cool autumn evening. The sun was setting over the buildings across the alley. A stray beam of light broke through between the two-hundred-year-old townhouses and warmed the backyard in a golden glow. It was idyllic.

And Stallion’s heart stuttered in his chest.  His palms began to sweat, and his throat was dry. Deep inside his mind, something growled and cowered in equal fear and loathing.  

He closed the door. 

The heart he hadn’t felt beating in months started slowing and he began to feel more himself. 

“So, maybe I am a vampire after all.”

I awoke to the sound of the back door closing. No nightmares. It was a pleasant change to just…wake up. However, I’d slept in my clothes and felt like they looked. I contemplated the noises I was hearing downstairs. It could be Lenny. No, his step was lighter. It sounded more like Stallion walking around down there.  It was as good a time as any to confront him before the rest of the house stirred.  I headed downstairs and found Stallion staring at the back door.

“Stallion?  Was that you at the door?” It was early, too early for us to be contemplating a walk.

“The sunlight. It was just a beam. I’d seen sunlight in that mage’s alleyway. I like…liked the sun. Now, one beam of light, and I’m terrified. I think I’m a vampire.”

We all knew he had a weak grasp on reality.  It only made it worse that he could still eat and drink as he always had without the repercussions the rest of us suffered.  Still, it was like a little boy discovering that Santa Claus doesn’t exist or that he wasn’t the son of Superman and Lois Lane given away at birth. Reality had finally struck home.

“The mage’s pocket dimension was only an illusion of sunlight, not the real thing,” I said slightly more sharply than I meant. This was not the discussion I wanted to have.

“But, the sun.” He lamented, but I wasn’t in the mood. 

“Look, I’m glad I’ve caught you this morning. We need to talk. You are a member of this coterie and welcome here, but I have to know you can be relied upon.”

“What? What’s this about?”

“Many things, but mostly about last night. After all the fuss you made over getting your damn dog back, it nearly killed it with alcohol poisoning.”
“What fuss, Mr Giovanni gave me that dog because I couldn’t find my Boofhead. Besides, he said he could handle it.”

I internally cringed. Right.  Much of what I had witnessed in Stallion was lost to him due to Mr Giovanni’s simple command to forget.  

“It’s an example, a symptom.  You were completely disloyal to Izac when all he’s ever done is try to help. You don’t seem to fucking care for the people around you. What do you care for besides yourself?”

“I had my mates, but…” Oh God, this was not going well.  I was just dumping my pain on him, and that wasn’t my intent at all.  At least, I didn’t think it was. 

“…but, I guess you guys are important to me.  I like the camaraderie.”

“Camaraderie?” I seethed.  Stallion’s ignorance, his casualness rankled. Was he even taking this conversation seriously? “I’m talking more than camaraderie, dear.  We’re soldiers in a war!  We need to look out for each other and know that if things go bad, there’s someone there to help.”

“Besides the Succubus Club thing, you’ve never asked for help.  I’ll be there.”

Right.  Of course, he would.  Maybe some things are just that simple. 

“Okay. Anyway, I want you to know I have your back, and I hope you do the same for me or anyone else in the coterie.”

“Sure, man. Whatever,” Stallion was finished with the conversation, denoted by him checking his phone.

“What’s this?”  He showed me Mr Giovanni’s text from the night before.  

“I don’t know,” I checked my own, and we silently replied.

Stallion – PAST OUT DRUNK.  GOOD NIGHT WITH G.

Me – APOLOGIES. NOT NEAR PHONE LAST NIGHT.  NO BOOKS.

The reply was swift and long.

THE BOOKS HAVE BEEN RESOLVED.  GLAD TO SEE STALLION AND GUISSEPI GETTING ON LIKE A HOUSE ON FIRE.

Was that a joke? In light of our recent conversation, it seemed a very poor one. The imagery was not lost on Stallion, who seemed quieter than usual. 

Izac was up in the lounge, deleting messages with malicious intent. He’d awoken to raised voices and now spent the time silently simmering in fear and hate and guilt. 

“Izac? Did you sleep on the couch?” I saw him through the railings as I climbed the stairs to shower and change. “I didn’t know you were here. I should get you a key.”

Izac’s head tilted backwards over the headrest, his brick of a phone still in his hands. His eyes were unusually still and intent on me.

“What did you do to Guissepi?”

Guissepi? It took me a beat to think what he could be referring to. And then, the images I’d seen in Guissepi’s head came to me. I  shivered.  It seemed Guissepi was sharing the knowledge of my new gift.

“Oh! Yeah, that was a surprise, “I smiled, embarrassed, “It seems I can read minds.”
“More than that,” He added as something akin to an accusation, “You can manipulate minds.”

“Can I?” I went through the moment in my mind, “I remember standing above him. He was drunk and passed out.  I wished he would just get up, get in an Uber and leave. Then there were all these images of Giovanni’s and…he woke up, put on his clothes and left. Ha! I guess I can.”

His eyes narrowed. 

“I swear I didn’t know I could. It wasn’t a good night. I wasn’t thinking straight.” I realised how this would look to Izac. He’d already revealed a history of people playing with his mind. It was as sore a point for him as the thought of guns was to me. 

“Ah, I have a feeling how this must look to you, Izac.  It’s a powerful gift, but I can assure you I have no intention of using it on you.”
The eyes didn’t waver.

“Is there some way I can do or say to convince you…?” Well, of course there was.  But, besides reinforcing his bad opinion of me, I changed the topic. 

“About that key, I’ll get Lenny to have one cut for you.  We don’t have a spare room here, but you are welcome to stay; you’re one of us.”

This did not have the effect I was going for.

Izac’s expression soured even more if, that was possible, and he gave up the idea of being comfortable in my presence. Standing, he thrust his phone back into his jacket, his shoulders hunched.

“Oh, Mr Giovanni has made it very clear that I have nothing like you three.”

Sigh.

“Look, I know you and Mr Giovanni have some sort of…agreement. That’s between him and you. Here it’s between us, and I say you are one of us, Izac.  If we’re going to survive this life, we need to stand together. I told you that the first night I met you, remember?”

That seemed to get through. His shoulders relaxed, and the cold glint of suspicion left his eyes. 

“I could do with your help with something.  I was wondering how you get through to Luna.”

Luna again. It was sweet, and I had to remind myself I’m the old man here before I let my jealousy show.

“Like, you’re good friends with her, right?”

“I would like to think so. There was a time a few weeks ago when you and Stallion went missing for several days. It was just me and Luna.  I spent time with her, doing things together. We talked about nothing and everything and built a rapport.  Yeah, I think Luna’s love language is probably time.”

“Love language?” Izac smirked as if I’d said something childish.

“Yeah, quality time.”  He nodded his head, accepting the advice. “Oh, and I’m sorry about last night. You lost someone?”

I went from covering my petty jealousy to barely keeping it together in a beat.

“Yeah.”
“Sorry about that.”
“They were murdered by a kin called Cabolut Hazzim,” I was so shaken I hadn’t noticed Stallion standing at the top of the stairs. 

“That was last night?”

“I found out last night. Just keep an eye out for Hazzim. He’s dangerous.”

Luna was busy, too. Sometimes while the rest of us prepared for the evening ahead, she tried slipping out of the house unseen. Stallion saw her leave.

“You’re up early.”

“Hmmm, I’m off to see Mr Giovanni.”

“Huh, is this about the book things?  Do you want a lift?” He jingled his bike keys.

She scoffed in her most Luna way, “Not on your god-forsaken bike.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my bike, “ He protested with a grin, “It’s owner on the other hand…”

“Well, no, thank you. I’d rather walk today.”

“I get it.  It will take longer.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

SMS from Luna to Mr Giovanni – ON MY WAY

Mr Giovanni – GOOD TO HEAR.  IN THE PRIVATE BOOTHS.

So, it was just us guys in the house.  I thought of the Pit and all the work needed and sighed.  As if he were the one who could read minds, Izac said.

“Do you want any help with downstairs?” 

I nodded in agreement, “It would be good to get stuck in.  Surprise Luna.”

“I can help,” added Stallion, obviously taking our conversation to heart. 

“I know you can,” I said bitterly before pulling back my feelings, “and I appreciate your offering. Thank you.”

“Sorry about the broom. I still haven’t replaced it,” Izac reminded us, and we all chuckled.  

We descended into the basement where the remains of Nosferatu meals were making drifts in corners.  They are a community that believe in nose to tail eating.  The remains were going to be a problem, however.  At the moment, I just made a small collection of them in a corner.

“This place could do with some natural lightning,” Izac said, looking around in the gloom.

“This is not it. I mean, this is not finished.  When it’s done we’ll have a small bar and live music. It will be a place people will want to come, spend time and relax with friends, not just a place to hide and eat.” I gestured to the scraps but imagined the Pit and Luna, and I saw it

After cleaning, we started spreading out the old furniture from the Crowbar.  With furniture polish, they came up looking acceptable. Izac took an interest in our hole-in-the-wall.  

“Hello!” He called, his voice echoing for miles under the city, “Death lies this way.”

“I hope not, “ I confessed, “If we needed to escape from the house, I hope to go this way.” 

“Escape, yeah. They’re good at hiding, aren’t they?” he said in a thoughtful tone. I got the feeling that this clean-up party wasn’t just an altruistic endeavour.

“Yep, you never know when one will show up.”  I needed one to show up.  Pangea or one of his ilk was exactly what I needed right now.

Closing the cupboard that hid the hole, Izac joined us around one of the tables.

“Okay, good time to get to know each other.  What do you miss about being human?”

“Daylight,” Stallion answered quickly and for obvious reasons, “It horrifies me.”
“How the hell do you know you’re scared of the sun?”

“I opened the backdoor this afternoon.  One beam of light, and I’m hiding behind the door.”

Izac never offered his lost thing, so I went next, “Freedom.”

“You feel trapped?”

“I was always a child of the night. I don’t miss the sun like Stallion does. I skirted the social and legal rules of the world and did as I liked. And it’s not like magic pays, especially not in Sydney.  Sometimes I took what I needed, knowing that those who lost out could afford it.”

“You were a con.”
“A con sometimes. A pickpocket sometimes. A burglar on occasion. But I could be a street performer, a singer and even an acrobat if needed.”

“And now life has consequences to choices.”

“Something like that. It seemed I could always mitigate the consequences then.  No community service now.  Fuck up, and you die.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t like to see you on the end of a blood hunt,” Izac said, I had to agree.

“I don’t think I would do well.”

“But, play your cards right, and you can do anything you want in this world.”
“Now you’re talking my game, “I smirked and pulled out my latest deck of cards, “Anyone for a game of poker?”

At this, they both sat down, and I ‘shuffled’ the card into a Si Stebbins run.

“I’m onto you,” Stallion pointed accusingly at me, still sitting at the table, “None of your playing with our heads.”

“Ha! I’ve been doing this since I was eight years old. I don’t need to play with your heads.” I flick the cards, hiding and revealing them at will. 

“Wait! We need a few more hands,” Izac almost leapt from his seat and crossed to the cupboard.

“Hi!  Anyone down there wanting to play a game of poker?”

Almost instantly, there was the echo of scrambling.  It was like they were waiting to be offered the chance to play.  From the gloom of the cavern, three individuals stumbled. 

The first was almost ordinary.  In a suit and carrying a notebook, his bald head and lined face could have passed for nearly normal if it wasn’t for the pointy ears. The second one was something for an Asian horror. All white with black recesses for eyes and a hedge of needle-like teeth that poured out his mouth. The third was a massive muscular being, taller and more physically than Stallion. 

Welcomed in, they joined us at the table.

“What are the stakes?” the man who looked like he’d eaten a jar of pins asked. “Favours?”

Izac looked keen, and Stallion, I believe would have been happy with anything. Right now, I didn’t have the nerve to put myself deeper in debt over a card game.

“It’s just a friend game, “ I suggested, “Twenty dollar buy-in, and we’ll use poker chips.”

Everyone agreed grudgingly, and the game began.  

Now, I don’t play poker.  I could and probably get killed for running a hot deck.  No, I play the people. Today, I sat back, and the cards flew across the table into eager hands.  I watched the faces, the fingers, the gestures and body language, all the while keeping up a conversation. This time, the subject was music.

“Say, are there any good musicians among the Nosferatu?” I asked, watching as the big guy gained two queens and furtively glanced around the table before putting his cards down.

“There’s a few. What are you looking for?” Asked the one with the lined face getting a handful of junk. His eyes disappeared into the crevasses on his face.

“Acoustic only, I have neighbours. Almost anything. Guitar, bass, piano (how was I going to get a piano down here? A problem for another time), jazz drums, singer, of course.”

Izac checked his phone.  He’d been doing that on and off during the game. I wondered if he was waiting for a message from Luna.

“I know someone who plays the bone flute,” Needleface said.  He got a pair of sevens and sat with the cards ignored between two fingers.  

Izac made a face, “Bone flute?”

“Sounds amazing. I’d love to hear it.”

I quickly sent a text of my own.

HAS HE CHEWED YOUR ARSE OUT YET?

The reply was slow in coming.

YES:(

“What will you give them?” Asked Linedface.

“Ah. I will have a stage. Small, it may be, but it can be theirs to play their music,” I said, throwing in my chips to call as if I’d be doing them a favour.

“Besides, tonight playing the Pit, tomorrow the Prince listening to original live music at Elysium instead of that canned stuff.” Playing for the Prince that had to be worth something.

Needless to say, I did not win the poker game.  That was never the point. The last game was between one of the Nosferatu and Izac.  Izac threw what was left of his pot and sat back as Needleface (I never did get their names) lay out his cards.  

“I win?” Izac said as the pot was pushed towards him.  

Yes, sometimes you win. Sometimes, you make do.

As our Nosferatu friends started to leave, I had one last offer.

“Say, if any of you see Pangea, tell him I’m planning a small extension to this place for a favour.”
“We’ll let him know.” 

*****************************************************************************************

Izac’s Scawlings:

Late Returns

We got the all-clear not too long after midnight. Guiseppe had left the building and was on the move. Before heading back, I wanted to search for information before turning in. Luna was happy to join, and I told her what I was looking for: privacy on the streets. We headed for the Crowbar, the taxi ride taking the most of my cash.

Being broke sucks.

After a close call running into Guiseppe at the front of the Crowbar we managed to sneak away after he passed out in the VIP section. His requests for different varieties of people reminded me all the more of his family and their proclivities. Fucking Giovanni’s and on top of it all, Rain was “in his mind” as he said. Problem.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t be as easy as reading a book. With the many eyes that constantly watch the city streets, I find the idea of privacy more important than ever. From what Luna and I gained from Giovanni’s library, there are several clans who are adept in that department. Mainly, the Nosferatu. Makes sense considering their appearance. I guess that means getting in touch with them.

“Why not just make yourself seem unimportant?” Luna suggested. Not a bad idea, I’ll call that plan B. 

—

He’s right. he’s wrong but he is right. We should be accountable for our actions, but I can’t be okay the idea of leaving anyone alone in his clutches. I get the need for discipline and it’s not my place to cover for them. They have a choice, it’s the consequences they will have to accept.  She took the books; she was told not to. But I delivered them back like an obedient dog and threw her under the bus by showing them to him.

Stop helping, you only make it worse

I’m burning the wick at both ends. I keep hearing the same thought, telling me to stop caring, it only leads to pain. I can’t talk, can’t be plain with them, I’m forced to stand aside and it’s killing me. I have to act, I have to at least try, and that will kill me too. I know my place: a tag-along, an accessory, an asset. As soon as my usefulness is done, I will be left to burn. No reward for loyalty, just a knife in the back and an eternity to remember it.

I should follow through on my threat, I’ve been without protection before.

So why don’t you?

Maybe I am a coward.

—

Stallion is awake, in fact he and Rain caused such a commotion that it woke me. They were arguing downstairs, it didn’t sound too good, but it was theirs to work out. Apparently, he had opened the door to the sunlight. Its suicidal but I envy the idea that he was able to view it, if only briefly. I’m glad he is ok.

Rain. I was harsh with him after we woke the next morning. I could tell that something had happened the previous night, the look of loss on his face was evident. Someone had died. That didn’t seem to matter immediately as something more pressing was on my mind. He can get into peoples minds now, influence them in a way. He has my condolences, but I’m warry about him now, despite his assurances he wouldn’t use it on me. I hope it doesn’t come to anything drastic should anything come from it. He is curious and hungers for curiosities as much as blood. It’s not a matter of if, it’s when. I’ll support him so long as he keeps his promises, but his track record… we’ll see.

He learnt of his friends from his human life were killed recently. Its hard to lose anyone and everyone copes differently. I think its valuable to remember the good of those who have passed. Its healthy to mourn, fixating on the loss itself, not so much. I  think he understood well enough, “preserving the good” he labelled it.

None of us noticed Luna leave. When we did, I offered help if she wanted it. I didn’t even realise I won the whole pot against the Nosferatu and the others. I wanted to see the basement and try and make some sort of contact with them. They wanted to play in favours, but starting small seemed a better introduction, maybe next time.

 “I’ll meet you at the house…” she at least survived the meeting. The others are still downstairs talking to the soon to be patrons. The step seems like a place to have some quiet before the night properly begins.

Stop… Breathe… Again

***********************************************************************

Thoughts from Luna:

Arsonist

MY OFFICE ALONE.
Luna had never been a person of confrontation. When forced, she could stand her ground with provocation. She is now familiar with the phrase ‘do not bite the hand that feeds you.’
Bending the rules was her way of life. If she was complacent with the way the world is, she would have never abandoned religion. If you are fed a lie long enough, it becomes a truth.
Complacency is for the simpleton.

To be fair, she has never been in confrontation with an authority figure. The people she
challenged were of equal standing and if they weren’t, she kept her head down.
Knowledge is such an enticing apple.
…
Giuseppe was an unwelcome sight. If she was about to get herself chewed and spit out, she could at least do it with some dignity. So given the choice, she sat next to Dominic.
“I have to punish you in some way,” Luna could almost hear a joke rattle out of Stallion’s mouth at this moment. All she could master was a weak, “I know.”
She almost blacks out from the pain. Much of their conversation lost to the inky hands of time.
“Disrespecting anyone will get you killed.”
Isn’t she dead already?
He’s talking to her and yet she hears none of the words.
Luna feels her lips moving. Whatever brain and vocal cord connection is functioning when she feels afloat in a boat of pain.
A red drink is placed in front of her. A childhood favourite literally tainted with blood.
“I need you to tell me what you see or interact with.”
Luna lulls her head towards him, a snap in her voice as she says, “so you want me to snitch?”
Dominic hums in his contemplative manner, “snitch in the sense you understand it and for your protection.”
Her eyes flick towards the third party in the room, “I’ll think about it.”
“I know how you feel about Giuseppe,” Luna verbally scoffed at this, “but he’s been trained well.”
There was no thought in her retort, “what, like a ‘good dog’?”
Dominic’s laugh. Full belied, coughing up from the bottom of his lungs kind of laugh.
She laughed too because what else is she to do?
Suffer?
She already is.
“You need to guard yourself against them. Their are darker things out there that want a piece of vampire.”
That metallic, fourteen-foot tall werewolf was enough of a subtle indication.
“You were turned by someone on a whim at a young age.”
Now that is salt in her metaphorical wound.
She can remember flashes of more conversation. Dominic’s lack of belief in Sericine, something about the new vampire death rate and her needing to technically re-enroll in Architecture.
She cannot remember when she was released. All she knows is her feet moving,
One in front of the other. One step forward, another, repeat.

---

stop
She could hear it. Barely an echo from the back of her mind.
“Stop! August, stop. STOP PLEASE!”
Dominic’s acidic blood ripped her will and boiled her stomach lining. She fought against the
liquid wanting to pour from her eyes.
It was the kind of pain that lasted a minute. The kind of pain that feels like it lasts aeons. The kind you remember from a glance of its resemblance. Like how your knees ache when the cold creeps in. Her wrist throbbed. Worse than the time she broke it.
‘Don’t climb too high’ that taught her.
This message was as simple. More painful.
“Do not disrespect me.”
This hurt felt like he threw her into the sun but there’s no relief to be found here. No death. Only knowledge.
Painful knowledge.
Her broken wrist coddled to her chest, tears down her face as she cried out for her mother.
If she cried now, who would run to help her?
She’s only met with the sound of water clashing against the unmoving. Her bloody tears are easily hidden in black fabric.
Giuseppe was sorry. He looked at her and he was pitiful.
She doesn’t need his god forsaken empathy. She does not need anyone to feel for her. Her choice, her consequence.
So why was she crying?
It felt like swallowing bleach. It was like being stabbed in the stomach. Pain conjured in fiction brought to life inside her body She wants to crawl out of it.
Wants to cut off her arm to never remember the pain.
When people used to call her smart it was a compliment. Now all it ever sounds like is
condescension. It’s like everything she has ever possessed is short of great. Anything she’s ever accomplished is a fraction of others potential.
How do you cry with no tears? Scream with no voice?
She felt like Echo.
Eternally punished to speak only what has been said to her.
Who is she?
Luna, who has a dead mother and a deadbeat father. Who changes degrees like someone changes clothes.
Luna, who had so much going for her but met the wrong person at the wrong time. Who
promised her everything and gave her nothing.
Luna is but a weak imitation. Does nothing but mock her own intelligence.
Some mistakes are only perceived through blood and some knowledge is only learnt by pain.
“Death is the only thing promised to humanity.”
Damn her.
“Most vampires die within their first year of living.”
Curse him.
“There are eyes everywhere.” Is what she told Izac. Since she was allowed out on her own, there is a consistent sense of being watched. Probably a condition of femininity. Izac wants to disappear from sight but she’ll rise to it. There is nothing smart in releasing a devil. The Book of
Nod could be a testament to the destruction of what releasing something from the pits of hell affords you. If carnage is what she gets for faith, it would not be the first time in history and it will not be the last.
If God did not want devils he should not have created them. If you did not want someone to believe, you should have never given them faith.
If you did not want a choice, you should have never given the possibility to decide.
So that’s how it’ll be.
If she cannot crawl above it, she’ll pull it down with her.
There is power in knowledge but there is also power in destruction.
They had the Library of Alexandria and they burnt it.
What war is building on this Nile? How long until you see the smoke? Is it already burning?
Is that gasoline congesting her nostrils? Is she holding the match?
Their house at Pyrmont slowly leaks into her view.
For the first time in a long time, she wants to run. Run far, far away.

Notable NPCs

Avel:  Rain’s mother, a wraith.

Bobby Lisner: Malkavian seer who lives in an old Sewer pipe in The Rocks.

Brendan Virgil: A.K.A. Miss Divine Intervention.  Rain’s close friend.

Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni

Cabolut Hazzim: the name given by a vampire who cleared out the homeless at Rain’s old squat

Detective Woodman:  NSW Policed premiere detective and a sufferer of schizophrenia.  He has an assistant currently called Notetaker.

Francis Tuttle: Name given in charge of the investigation into the deaths of homeless in Surry Hills.

Garcia: Sire.  Unknown location.

Giuseppe Giovanni: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni.  Some sort of relative of Mr Giovanni.

Lenny: Rain’s Ghoul and artist friend

Madeline Blackwell: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni, working at the State Coroners Court.

Night Rider: Red-haired vampire?  Works for the Prince.

Pangea: a Nosferatu (tunnel builder)

Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats

Prince Sarrasine (Sar-ras-seen): Toreador Ruler of Sydney*

Sparrow: a Nosferatu of the warren in Pyrmont, closest to home

Glossary of terms:

Anarchists: a faction of Vampires.  Caused issues in Los Angeles recently, killed the Prince.

Antediluvian: from before the time of the biblical flood.  The third generation that were the progenitors of the thirteen clans of vampires.

Blood hunt:  A process to destroy a vampire who has broken a tradition.  Specifically mentioned in the sixth.

Canaanites: Those descended from Cain, the first murderer and vampire.

Camarilla:  a faction of Vampires closest to the Princes.  Believe in hierarchy and order.

Clan or Bloodline:  From one the 13 antediluvians. 

Marauder: A mage gone mad.  Living in his own pocket dimension that answers to the whim of his broken mind.

Diablerie : the drinking another vampire blood and soul

Favour:  How Vampires pay for things they want or need doing.

Fetter: A place, person or thing that binds a wraith to the Shadowlands.

Ghouls: Servants of a vampire who have been fed vitae.  They are loyal, stronger, more resilient and sometimes show other powers gained from the blood. They must receive the blood at least once  a month  or they return to being human. Can be addictive.  

Hunter:  Members of the Society of Leopold, a branch of the Catholic Church.  Fanatical vampire hunters and killers.

Kin: Vampires, a name among themselves

Kine: Humans

Marauder:  a rouge mage, often mad. They are likely to act in a way that exposes the Otherworld of the Masquerade to exposure. 

Men in Black: An international unit dedicated to controlling supernatural and alien entities.

Sabbat: a faction of Vampires that believe that the progenitors of the clans will one day awake and eat all their young.

Masquerade : The rule that keeps vampire society safe.  Hiding ones nature from the world.

Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.

*Sarrasine, a novella by Balzac.  Sarrasine is a sculpture who is infatuated with an Opera Singer, Zambinella. She thinks herself cursed and deflects his advances.  At a performance, Zambinella is revealed to Sarrasine to be a castrato.  In a rage, Sarrasine attacks the singer, only to be cut down and killed by their bodyguard.

6.00 pm 13 hours until sunrise – 14 days until The Succubus Club

SMS to Benefactor

I WOULD LIKE TO DO MY BEST AT THE CLUB IN 2 WEEKS.  I’D LOVE TO DISCUSS IT WITH YOU, BUT KNOW YOUR TIME IS PRECIOUS.  IS THERE SOMEONE I COULD TALK TO?

Benefactor

OF COURSE WE ARE ALWAYS AVAILABLE WHEN NEEDED.  DEPENDING ON HOW YOU WANT TO DISPLAY YOURSELF.

SMS to Benefactor

WHEN WOULD BE BEST?

Benefactor

WE WILL SEND FOR YOU

SMS to Benefactor

THANK YOU.

Two weeks until the Succubus Club.

 It seemed like my whole young vampire life was leading up to this point. I was trying to straddle the line between the connections to my old life as I grew into…this new one. The mage had been a revelation. With my new companions, I felt I could be a force in the world instead of a victim. If I could just make it through The Succubus Club, then maybe, for the first time in my life, I could dare to feel safe. 

Then again, self-delusion is the most straightforward trick of all.  

I picked up my notes on the Thaumaturgy book. Though Stallion had told me the book wasn’t to leave the library, there was no mention of making notes.  I’d promised Lenny something on magic, and this was the closest thing I’d come across, not in Greek or Latin.  Thus prepared, I opened my bedroom door.

The house was waking around me. Luna was studying in her room the tinny sound of earbuds and the clack of a laptop keyboard leaking under her bedroom door.  I could hear Stallion and the dog talking in the kitchen.  I followed the sound down the stairs.  

“Master, why are you looking at me so intently?” Blanco’s voice came from the sun-yellow dog.  I didn’t let on I understood and silently watched the conversation.

“Are you getting skinny?” Stallion mused.  

“I could do with more calcium in my diet.”

“Huh, anything in particular you’d like?”

“Bourbon.”

“Have you had bourbon before?”

“Many times.”

“Well, who am I to refuse,” Stallion replied in a happy tone and spotted me.

“Good evening.”
“Stallion, I was very impressed with you last night.  I had expected you to leap in and attack on sight, but you were calm and focused. What were you doing to the Mage?” 

“You haven’t seen me do it before?” he asked, genuinely surprised. I use it when the customers get out of hand. It’s an intimidation trick. I let them know who the alpha dog is.”

“I see,” I said, a little disappointed. His new ability was just an extension of his aggression and violence. It seemed that no matter how I tried, I couldn’t find a single point of connection with Stallion. He was a thoughtless brute, selfish, and disloyal. Poor Blanco in the dog bed was a better human being than the six-foot-tall tattooed Aryian I shared my home with.  

“Well, thanks for the book.  I made notes last night,” I brandished the order pad on which I’d scribbled down what I could from the book. “Tonight is for study.”

“Uh,” He replied, not thinking much of the idea of study, “Just be careful with the Tremere Crap.”

Stallion went to do some shopping, and I entered the Studio.  It had been the dining room of the house, a time when those who lived here actually dined.  Now it was Lenny’s space, and it was filled with concept drawings, magazine clippings, half-painted masonite sheets, paint supplies, the haze of spray paint and the constant smell of paint thinner.   I stood entranced in front of one painting after another, awed by Lenny’s talent.  This and the idea of real magic made everything we’d been through so far worthwhile. 

“Hey, Rain,” Lenny’s muffled voice called through a respiratory mask, from behind another large piece of masonite. I went to see what he was working on. He was recreating the Madonna of the streets that he’d first illuminated the old squat.   

The skin tones had buttery, oil-paint feel from the original, though the two figures of the mother and child were just the same. 

“Beautiful, “ Was all I could say and handed over the notes.  

“Hey, thanks.  Um…while you’re here, do you think I could have a drink?”

“Hmm?  If you like,” I offered my wrist as I took in the glance between mother and child. It was as if they both knew that moment of peace together wouldn’t last. 

“I heard that something was happening at the old place.  Police and blood and shit.”

“What?  Surry Hills?”

“Yeah, no details, though,” He drank his fill and stumbled over to his bed, the notes clutched to his chest. 

I’d tried to keep my visits rare to see Big Bob, Trish and the others so as not to draw attention to them.  Though Lenny and I had moved on, they were still important to me.  I’d have to go and see if anyone was still around. Leaving Lenny to sleep, I left for the light rail station.

Unknown to me, Izac had slept on the upstairs lounge and kept himself busy reading.  Sometime after the house had gone quiet again, he walked down the hallway and knocked on Luna’s bedroom door.

“Hey Luna.” He glanced around the door to find her sprawled out on the floor of her room, headphones in, books and laptop arrayed around her.  She spotted the movement and pulled out an earbud.
“Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I slept here, on the lounge.  I…nevermind.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

“No one ever does,” He murmured before adding, “ I just wanted to thank you for having my back last night.”
“Yeah, it’s good when the world stops ringing, right?

Rend him!  Why  do you try and befriend him?

She smiled.

“So…what’s all this about?” He gestured to the study guides and texts laid out around Luna.

“History and archaeology. I am a student. I always like to do more than just the basic reading.”

He’s not worth your time! Get him away!

“Um…Giovanni around?”

“No, he doesn’t live here,” She laughed, squashing the voice in her head, “You’d find him at the bar.”

“Uh, yeah.  I’ll go down the Crowbar then.  I need to see Giovanni about something.”

Mr Giovanni was busy  Two weeks out from the Succubus Club, he was preparing.  He had a collection of small squeeze bottles suitable for food colouring or flavourings.  Grabbing a handful, he turned the tap from one of his ‘kegs’ and filled the samplers  Marking them with a code to identify the ‘vintage’, he grabbed another handful of empty bottles and moved to the next.

He received an SMS from Giuseppi.

STALLION HAS LEFT THE HOUSE ON FOOT.  IZAC IS ON HIS WAY TO YOU.

WHAT’S IZAC’S MOOD?

NEUTRAL.  HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE WALKING THREATENINGLY

OKAY. KEEP AN EYE ON HIM.  AS FOR STALLION.  MORE FUN TIME WITH HIM.

Stallion had taken himself down to the corner off-licience. In the yellow flurolight, he stood in front of a shelf of bourbons, trying to gauge the benefits of each.  One from King’s Brewery was cheap but seemed to fit the bill.  On the other hand, Jim Beam, more pricey, but this was for his buddy, his faithful pup, Slobbers.  As he stood there, the idea of a booze-up after the excitement of the night before seemed a really good idea. 

See me happy man? That’s a fake smile

I got a lot on my plate this might take a while

Stallion’s phone lamented from his pocket.  With a bottle in each hand, he juggled his phone from his pocket to his ear.

“Hey Buddy!  How are you doing?” It was Giuseppi. That man had fantastic timing.

“I’m just getting some stock in for a booze up this evening.  Are you free?”
“Don’t mind getting pissed up.  Where?”

“Home…we can go somewhere else as long as we can take Slobbers.”

“The dog?  What does he like?”

“Bourbon.”
“Can I watch?”

“Of course.  Come on over.”

With both bottles in hand, he paid and started the walk home, ready for a night of revelry.

Izac arrived at the Crowbar just in time to see Giuseppi leave, a big grin on his disproportionate face.

“Hey Giuseppi,” He waved.

“Izac, how are you doing?” Giuseppi beamed, drool spilling down his lips.

“Swimmingly,” Izac replied automatically.  He didn’t have anything against Giuseppi, but neither did he really know him either.

“Aren’t we all.”

“I’m looking for Mr Giovanni. Is he in the bar?”

“Downstairs in the VIP lounge.” 

Walking downstairs, avoiding the door to the meat locker and turning into the VIP lounge, Izac was horrified to find Mr Giovanni tapping dead bodies to fill tiny bottles with blood.

“Hard at work,” He swallowed hard to keep down the bile.

“That’s how you make the big buck,” Mr Giovanni replied in a cheerful mood, “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“I’ve come to talk about our current relationship. What exactly is it you need from me?”

“Izac. Australia is a land full of werewolves.  If we are to make our way here, we need a way of dealing with them without being torn limb from limb.  You know the right sort of people, and they recognise your gravitas.  Talk to them. Keep in their good books and start building a relationship that can be more than just the goodboy.”

“So, what do we have that they want? What would we want from them?”

“I’d like to receive favours in exchange for payment, protection in my domain, and goods and services. Is that agreeable?”

Izac nodded slowly.

“And what about this Succubus Club?  It doesn’t sound like a place for me.  Maybe I can be…unwell?”

“Yes, you may need to be too unwell to attend.” Mr Giovanni agreed with a nod.

I kept to myself during the ride on the light rail to Central.  I stealthed through the shadows as I walked the streets of Surry Hills.  I kept my head down and looked for familiar faces between the arches of Central. If there had been trouble, I expected the old crew to have found other places to sleep. I didn’t like the feeling that was sinking into the pit of my stomach. Violence comes to those on the streets from time to time. Drunken thugs wanting to prove their mettle, extremists who believed they had some right to enforce their worldview on others or those who have lost their minds. The thin protection of the law barely exists for those who fall between society’s cracks.

When I found no one, I circled under the rail bridge and up the hill to Randle Street, my Auspex highlighting the minds around me.  The police tape was the first sign that things were not well.  Even from down the street, I could see bright yellow baring the door.  The building was dark. No auras betrayed signs of life.  Across the street, however, a pale aura light blue and vermillion stood out against the rooftop.  My stomach lurched. A vampire, and one who was pleased with themselves.  I’d come too far now.  I pushed aside the yellow tape and stepped into the building.

Straight away, the smell of rot was evident.  Climbing one of the two staircases, I followed the stench to the second floor, past discarded mattresses and the few abandoned possessions. I found what I was looking for at the far end between two large windows allowing light in from the street. Painted in dark heart’s blood, a message still read blackly against the paint-chipped wall.

When it rains, it falls on the rose petals.

My head swam.  It was worse than I’d imagined.  Friends were dead, and it was my fault. It was as if I’d murdered them myself. It may have been better if I had. I could have caught them asleep and sent them on oblivious and peaceful.  But this? This blood that stained the wall was from a still-beating heart!

I don’t know how long I stood there, transfixed by the message on the wall. Eventually, I dragged my eyes around the room, looking for clues as to who had died. There was no sign of a dog, so possibly not Big Bob and Tiffany?  As for Trish and the other half dozen who had made their home here?  I had no idea.  Pulling out my phone, I found the number of the Mission Australia social worker who used to keep an eye on the Surry Hills homeless. My hands shaking, I brought up the contact and listened as the phone rang.

“Yes, hi,”
“Good evening. I’m calling about a couple of homeless who hang around the Surry Hills area. I haven’t seen them around, and I heard some rumours….I was wondering if I could talk to you about it?”  I sounded so smooth, so much the concerned but detached citizen I nearly laughed. Was this really happening?

“Yes,” She sounded hesitant.  Probably fearful of the voyeurs, “Anyone in particular you’re enquiring about?”

“Two by name.  Trish, a middle-aged woman with blond hair and a man named Big Bob who has a dog named Tiffany?”

I could feel tension ease on the other end of the line. I wasn’t a voyeur. I knew these people. 

“There has been an incident. The police found four bodies, but we really don’t know how many more were…well, the squat has been abandoned, and we haven’t been able to find the others. I’m sorry, I don’t know where your friends are.”

I was frozen. My friends torn apart, the others scattered and lost.  I didn’t know where to start looking for them, and I didn’t even know if I should.  

“Hello?  Are you still there?  Do you want to talk?”

“Sorry.  I’m sorry.” 

“Look, if you have any information, I have the name of a detective handling the case,” she said, and I could hear her flipping through pages in a notebook.  I was sure she was going to say, Detective Woodman. It would have made some perverse sense if it had been Woodman.

“Here it is. They’re asking anyone with information to ring triple 0 and ask for Francis Tuttle.”

“Francis Tuttle?” It’s such a friendly name.  Someone you could trust with the investigation of murdered friends. 

“Yes. Look, I can hear your distress. Do you want to talk about it?”

She sounded so concerned, genuinely caring, “No…I’ve taken up too much of your time. I do want to thank you for…everything you do…for…I appreciate it.”

“Thank you, we try.”

I hung up.  

I did a quick search for Francis Tuttle NSW police. There wasn’t much. A news article titled Drugs Off the Streets mentioned the man and his daughter, Sasha. A YouTube short about him called him a “Pillar of the Community.” He existed, at least as far as I could gather.  

Glancing outside, I noticed the aura had disappeared from the top of the building opposite. It now glowed in the shadows under a tree right below the window where I stood. There was less red now and more rose-colored. They felt generous…benevolent even.

I climbed down the stairs and back out onto the street.

“Rain,” The dark-skinned man beckoned me as I ducked under the police tape.

“You know my name?  I’m flattered.” I was determined that this man would not see how shaken I was.

“You shouldn’t be.  You should have known better,” His rich voice and accent made the man sound almost fatherly. Then I remembered the blood.

“I take it that was your message?”

He nodded.

“We fixed your mistake.  This is your responsibility.”

“You made that very clear.”

“You should thank us.  We did you a favour.  In these dark nights, we need to look out for each other.”

I swallowed a cry of bitter expletives.
“So what should I call my benefactor? You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
He thought about that for a long while.  

“You may know me as Cabolut Hazzim.”

I looked into his hard dark eyes, watching the aura swirl from calm and generous to suspicious and distrustful.

“I will remember,” Was all I could say without breaking down. I would not give him the pleasure.  It was time to go. 

“Are there any more we should be aware of?” He asked as I turned away and didn’t look back. 

I don’t remember the ride home. It was all I could do not to weep.  How would crying tears of blood in public go down with the Masquerade?  Needless to say, I was not in the mood to deal with Guissepi when I spied him at my door.   I circled around the alley behind Harris Street and sent a message to Luna, who was alone in the house.

GUISSEPI’S AT THE DOOR.  WATCH OUT.

I snuck into the house via the garage, ensuring the squeaky roller door didn’t give away my location.  Luna and I crossed paths in our small garden. Her thick curtains flying out her open window.

“I’m going to the bar. At least I know he’s not there,” she said, leaving the way I’d come in. For a moment, I thought of going with her. She’d proven herself a trusted confidant in the past.  I decided I didn’t want the noise and bustle of the bar tonight. 

“I’ll text you when he leaves.” 

“Good plan,” She nodded and closed the roller door.

Stallion, dawdling back from the convenience store with his purchases, met Guissepi waiting for him outside the house. 

“Yeah!  Let’s go get a dog drunk!” Cheered Guissepi by way of starting the celebrations.
“I’m hoping to convince Luna to get drunk.  That girl needs to lighten up,” Stallion replied, opening the door with his key and welcoming Guissepi inside. 

I was making my way through Lenny’s studio when I heard them come through the front door.  Lenny was still asleep, my notes open on his chest. He’d been reading them.  Maybe later together, we could make some sense out of it all, but right now I was just glad he was safe and sound. I quickly crossed the room, stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind me.  My nerves were shredded. I needed time to decompress before dealing with more drama, but it wasn’t to be.  Instead, I  used the few moments before Stallion burst into the kitchen to centre myself.  When they found me, I was tidying the kitchen,  brushing away a few stray crumbs from Lenny’s day.

“Slobbers!” Stallion yelled, and the ever-obedient Blanco trundled himself down the stairs. With a huge grin on his squat face, the dog looked up at his master in adoration.

“We’re getting drunk in celebration of last night’s victory.  Come and join us, Rain!” Stallion brandished the two bottles of bourbon, and I heard my beast growl in appreciation.  Yes, that’s what I wanted. Get blind drunk, dull the nerves and cloud the memory.  Then I saw Guissepi grab the bottle of King’s Brewery Bourbon and chase the dog back up the stairs to the lounge. I thought about a drunk Guissepi and the sleeping Lenny in the next room.  I thought of my own safety if I let my guard down in front of Mr Giovanni’s ghoul. 

“Not to my taste, Stallion.  You know I’m a Glenfiddich man,” I replied, trying to look as cheerful as he seemed.

“Well, the invitations open,” He replied and started after Guissepi. 

Not about to leave those two drunk alone in my house, I followed.

Guissepi had already cornered the dog and was pouring the King’s Brewery down his throat.  

“Here doggo!  Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Being no more than 30 kilogram, it didn’t take long for Blanco to lose control of his dog body and collapse onto his side, passed out. 

“Here!” Guissepi now grabbed my attention, “Look at this cool trick.”  He skulled the remaining King’s Brewery and then slapped his wrist raising a vein.

“Take some,” he offered his outstretched wrist.  I could see the pulse there, throbbing away under the skin.  I could almost taste the rawness of the alcohol burn down my throat. I didn’t want anything more than I wanted what he offered. 

Stallion, swigging straight from his Jim Beam, saved me by grabbing Guissepi’s wrist and biting.

“Go ahead, Rain. Live a little.”
“You’re my guest.  I don’t expect anything from you,” I replied with a forced smile.  It didn’t matter, he was too wasted to care.

Blanco, unconscious, started making a puddle of piss on the floor.

“Ah, Jesus Slobbers!”  Stallion leapt to the defence of my hardwood floor and, picking the dog up, held him out the open window to clear the rest of his bladder. 

“Stallion!  What will the neighbours think?” I took the dog from his hands and started back down the stairs, “You stay with your guest.  I’ll look after the dog.” 

I left them to drink as I cleaned Blanco of piss and laid him out in his dog bed. 

“At least you look like you’ll have a peaceful night,” I lamented to the unconscious dog and went back to the party.

Evicted from her home, Luna was in a foul mood as she entered the Crowbar. 

“Why can’t we have nice friends?” She grumbled to herself as she contemplated what she was going to do with the rest of her night. Izac was meant to be around the bar somewhere. She sent him a message.

I’M AT THE CROWBAR. GO TO THE LIBRARY WITH ME?  She was surprised by the response.

I’M ON MY WAY TO THE ROCKS TO DO A JOB.

CUSTOM HOUSE AT CIRCULAR QUAY HAS A LIBRARY.

RIGHT, SEE YOU THERE.

Izac was heading to see Mother.  Nervously, he watched every stormwater grate for signs of beady Nosferatu eyes staring back.  At the King’s Hotel, he nodded to the two burly bouncers at the door and headed inside.

“Hi, is Mother in?” He asked at the bar.

“Always, I’ll tell her you’re here,” The barman smiled.  They all knew Izac, the good boy.  He didn’t wait long and was soon ushered into a private room where an old woman waited.

“Mother Pasta,” Izac said with genuine affection.

“Izac, nice of you to come and see Mother,” She said, giving him a hug.

“Keeping healthy?” He asked, concerned the old woman looked frailer than last visit.

“Trying to.  I’m getting old, Izac.  It’s the medicines, you see.  They’re not doing what they used to.”

“Oh?” Izac asked. Did Mother need something of him?  Something that would help pay back his debt and secure his relationship with the pack?

“What I need is a little young blood that would do the trick,” She looked up at Izac, and he could feel the weight of the request before she even said a word, “I can’t ask the pack. They wouldn’t understand.  Could you get me some?  Get some young blood for sick Mother Pasta?”

“Mother,” Izac, his voice low and gentle, “You know me better than that.” 

“Please, just between us.” 

It was hard.  This kind old lady who had only ever helped him when he had nothing to give. But he couldn’t do it. Not even for her.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” And he was.

“Well…” she patted his hand and sat back in her chair. ” What can Mother Pasta do for you today?”

“I was hoping you could find someone for me.  Find them and arrange a meeting with me.”

“Hmmm,” the old gentle Mother’s expression was replaced by the shrewd and calculating expression of the leader of a werewolf pack. And what do we get out of it?”

“What do you want?”

“There is something. A tradition.  Like a great hide and seek that runs all over Sydney.”

“Sounds like something that would anger the Prince.”

“You need to ask him.”

“I can try.”
“Good boy, “ She smiled, and kind Mother was back, “Now, who do you want us to find? Any details?”

Izac grabbed a paper and wrote down what details he could remember.  He handed it to her in silent gratitude.

“Oh, by the way. Who else is living with you?” She asked casually, a simple afterthought.

“I…where?” 

“In Pyrmont, the new house you’re staying at.  There is something like a dog, but we can’t speak to it.”

Slobbers. 

“What happened to that other dog?  I hope you didn’t kill him. It would be cruel to put him through that.”

“Oh, it’s fine.  Not a problem,” He smiled. That’s what Rain did, right? Smile and waved off people’s concerns?  It seemed to work.

“Very well, “ She held up the piece of paper with his notes on it, “We’ll let you know when and where.”

“And it needs to be done quietly.  Total discretion.”

“Your kind will never know.” 

“By the way, any news about that girl you were looking for?

Mother Pasta became distressed, “No, nothing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” And he was, but it didn’t stop him from closing the door behind him as he left. 

Luna was people-watching at Circular Quay. At almost any time of day, people were walking from nearby hotels to the Opera House or one of the many restaurants Quayside. The ferries and trains carried thousands home from work or out for a night on the town. None of them were Izac. Bored and fed up with her friends’ unreliability, she started walking along the foreshore towards the bridge and The Rocks nestled underneath. 

 The yellow sandstone that made up much of the oldest building in this area reflected the lights from the many outdoor bistros and bars so that in the evening darkness, the streets seemed to glow.  Here, the road was more residential, and the only sound of traffic came from the multilane highway above her head. Luna saw little of this as she inwardly grumbled. Where was Rain? Sulking around the house?  Making sure Guissepi didn’t drool on the carpet?  How about Stallion?  Couldn’t he have invited her to one of his fights, so she could refuse to go?  It was like she didn’t exist.

Suddenly, two rough hands grabbed her and started pulling her back along the street.  From the cursing of the voice in her head, she knew, without looking, that it had to be Izac.

“What are you…? Get off me!”

“Luna!  What are you doing here?!”

“Looking for you, obviously.”

She looked up at Izac to see him furtively glancing around, particularly back towards a pub only tens of metres away. Two bouncers seemed to have taken particular notice of them. 

“You’re being weird,” She pulled herself from his grasp and tried to keep up as Izac set a fast pace in the opposite direction.

“It’s not the safest for you here right now,” He said without explanation.

“And why not?” What had got him in such a lather?

“Think, Luna.  It’s in your best interest not to go near the King’s Hotel,” He stressed the name of the pub.

“What?” Why was he being so awkward?

Leaning down so all she could see was his face, he whispered, “Big hairy people don’t like those who drink blood.” 

Oh!!  She grabbed his arm and joined him in the quick walk back to safety. 

They marched out of the Rocks, back to Circluar Quay and the Library at Customs House.  Though it had been her idea, Izac was more interested in research once they were safe inside the shelves of the public library.

“What are you looking for?” She asked as Izac scoured the shelves in the 363 section of the non-fiction, “I can help.”
“No, nothing in particular,” he sighed when he didn’t find what he was looking for, “I guess there’s nothing here.

“Come on, I’ll take you for a ride.”

The revellers upstairs had been talking about Stallion’s new bike.  That is to say, Stallion was talking very loudly, and Guissepi was slurring encouraging sounds. I had tried being the good host, but even the drunken Guissepi could tell my heart wasn’t in it tonight, and I soon gave a feeble excuse and left.  That’s when talk of the bike had begun. Harmless at first, Stallion sang the praises of his new prized possession to his ever more inebriated companion.  

“Yeah! Go for…. ride!” Guissepi repeated, and both stumbled down the stairs and out the door.  It was the stumbling that gave me a chance to collect myself.  If they’d been less drunk, I’d have had no chance of catching them. As it was, I ran after them, flying out the door, and only just caught the handlebars as Stallion, with Guissepi on pillion, went to turn over the engine.  Stallion easily yanked the handlebars out of my hand.

“Whoop! “ Guissepi cried, almost falling off the stationary bike.

“Wait your turn, Rain.  We’ll be back in a tick,” Stallion laughed as the engine purred to life. 

I moved, placing a leg each side of the front wheel, and stepped as close to Stallion as I could.  I turned on Presence.  Instantly, both Stallion and Guissepi were paying attention to nothing but me.

“This is not a good idea, Stallion.  Come inside, stay here with me. Please?” I don’t know what I was pleading for. For them not to kill themselves?  Not likely, though having to explain the loss of Guissepi to Mr Giovanni was not a great thought.  That they stay with me in my time of need?  I’d already shunned their drunken company once. To somehow beg my murdered friends back?  Guissepi decided for himself what my plea meant.

“Hey, yeah.  Stallion, we could stay, share a bed…have a threesome…sure,” He slurred and stumbled off the bike.  Stallion thought a moment longer.

“If you want Stallion. Come with me, please.” I held out my hand.  

He turned off the bike, pocketed his keys and smiled.

“For you, Rain, anything.”

I nearly wept as I followed them back into the house, making sure to pick the bike keys from Stallion’s pocket before heading upstairs. They climbed the stairs on all fours, and I guided them to Stallion’s room, where the clumsy foreplay began.

 There’s an art to dealing with an amorous drunk. It’s more about biding your time.  Slowly removing clothing, strokes, sighs, and heavy petting until they eventually fall asleep. If you’re lucky, you don’t even have to get undressed yourself as they slowly entangle themselves in their own random discards. It was no different with two, just more limbs.  

They lay, Guissepi spooned against Stallion, snoring into the bedclothes.  What would have been hilarious under normal circumstances just made me sad. Good people had died, and here I was babysitting two sloveny drunks?  The two empty bottles reminded me of Guissepi’s offer, and this time I couldn’t find it in me to resist.  Taking his wrist, I bit and let the alcohol-infused blood in.  He’d had his share of Jim Beam since the first offer, and it hit like a burning wave. It rushed to my head, and I welcomed it, washing away the loss and pain and fear.  I wanted to keep drinking, wanted to slip into the oblivion that now held the two sleeping men.  It would be so simple to just lay down beside them and drink and drink until…nothing.

Something made me pull away and drop the wrist.  I could have drained Guissepi dry and damn the consequences…but not tonight.  I savoured the buzz I’d gained and stepped away like the thief in my own home.  I slunk back downstairs, not making a sound. The motorbike keys I left at the front door for Stallion to find in the morning and I returned to the kitchen to check on Blanco.

Across town, Mr Giovanni was also off to a library, the only library older than his own in all of Sydney. He parked outside a modern grey-rendered facade on an old brick building in Kent Street.  He passed under an arch bearing a small symbol that barely drew the attention of those passing by. A six-sided star with an ankh at its centre, encircled by a snake eating its tail with a sauvastika in a circle at its head. Here, he browsed the shelves of ancient knowledge, seeking answers to his questions.  Like Izac, even in these ancient halls, he was disappointed not to find the answers he sought.  

It seemed it was to be a night of disappointments.

12 am 6 hours until sunrise – 14 days until The Succubus Club

*****************************************************************************************

Luna’s thoughts:

Bitten

She could not see it before.

Perhaps it was foolish.

She does not lead six hundred men. Has never seen the walls of Troy. Has built no Trojan Horse. But she can see it.

Slobbers was just an infant.

She told Polyphemus her name.

His father may not have destroyed her boats but he wants her to build a body.

Circe waits for her at the Succubus Club.

Where was her Eurylochus? When had she lost Polities?

A knock on her door.

“Hey, Luna.”

Odd. She doesn’t remember hearing Izac walk to her room. Her hand moved to pause the old man talking about Philip II at double speed.

The whole time they talked she could hear the Beast in her head whining.

Nooooo why are you talking to him?

Another question she asks, soft talking and softer prodding.

Stop befriending him.

She bites back a smirk.

The Underworld may be the Beast or a real place for all she knows. What she does know is that she is no tactician. No Athena chosen General. She’s a daughter of a knowledge keeper, built crudely in Cain’s image and she thirsts for what Eve bit from.

So, she’ll be Damned. Izac eats from no Lotus but his beliefs. He sings no siren song because there’s nothing she would jump off the ship for. Not that she knows. Perhaps a prophet does.

Let Teiresias of Thebes stay dead.

Her head snaps up, pulling an earphone out as Izac’s hurried form rushes to her, pushing her shoulders and tugging her arm. His worry was founded of course.

Luna stores away the idea of mapping out Wolf Dens across Sydney. Keys of vampire

provinces and their holders. That would be a fun project.

Izac and herself only find level grounding in a library. A joke sits there, she’s sure.

Diametrically opposed foes find equal footing in a cabinet filled of Curiosities. I-fucking-ronic.

So, she stands to his right. He’s taller but if she tried his shoulder would be a perfect

headrest.

She can’t tell what he looks for. Safest guest with the crime section would be Woodman. The state library may have some unscanned files in its bowels. Now THAT would be her kind of time.

Too bad the sun is unavailable and the library becomes legally inaccessible once the light dispels.

He doesn’t confirm what he’s looking for. Mistrust or lack of belief in her skill? Either way

she’s pouting.

…pouting…

A book would be a good redirection.

“You like history?”

By the name of Joseph, they truly know nothing of each other.

*****************************************************************************************

Izac’s Musings:

Intermission

Everyone seems well recovered after the events in the alleyway. My ears have stopped ringing and can see as clear as I ever could. Gotta say the place is kind of nice. Last time I was here I caused no small stir amongst the group. Luna seems in good mood, researching on something or other. Stallion running out of the house for bourbon. Rain leaving without much of a word.

Rain. That man is one of both inspiration and deception in equal measure. He seems to want to make a safe haven for the Kindred, but I suspect there is more below the surface. I know for a fact he holds no qualms of deceiving humans for blood, I just wonder if it is truly out of necessity or if there is a satisfaction in pulling the wool over another’s eyes.

 There is one missing however, one I loathe but understand his necessity. Unfortunately, he is the one I need to talk to. For now, the Crowbar. From there I have another stop to make before sunrise.

Favours. The currency to those who suddenly have no value for cash. The King’s Hotel is as busy as ever, I should come round more and speak with the others again, it’s been too long. Last time was an in and out affair and I suspect this will be the same. Luna wants to meet up.

Mother Pasta, I worry about her. More rather, I’m beginning to worry about her mental state. The mention of the girl she asked me about not too long ago seems to distress her more. I hope she finds what she is looking for, though her insistence of “young blood” disturbed me. She knows my stance on that, and as expedient as it would be I had to decline. Instead, I will have to meet the prince once again, this time on her pack’s behalf. They want to play some sort of game, “like your traditions” Mother equated it, a game of hide and seek. Sounds to me like they want someone dead, I just wonder whom.

Though agreeing to meet at the library, Luna decided to grace the front door of the Kings with her presence. I’m glad that I left when I did, a minute later and a murder occurring on the Quay would break tomorrow mornings news.

Public libraries are quiet places. If I wasn’t embraced, I could probably still hear my heart beating in the silence. For now, the crime section and a reminder of things. I didn’t even notice Luna offer her help until she jammed a finger in my rib to get my attention. I don’t know what I should tell her. Problems shared are problems halved as they say but, in this case, I worry that line of questions could double the problems for everyone involved. It’s not that I don’t trust her, after all she kept watch over me while I was blind and deaf in the marauders dream world. But it’s more than that. You know that it is more than that.

If you hadn’t left maybe things would have been different… Why did you go anyway?

Notable NPCs

Avel:  Rain’s mother, a wraith.

Bobby Lisner: Malkavian seer who lives in an old Sewer pipe in The Rocks.

Brendan Virgil: A.K.A. Miss Divine Intervention.  Rain’s close friend.

Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni

Cabolut Hazzim: the name given by a vampire who cleared out the homeless at Rain’s old squat

Detective Woodman:  NSW Policed premiere detective and a sufferer of schizophrenia.  He has an assistant currently called Notetaker.

Francis Tuttle: Name given in charge of the investigation into the deaths of homeless in Surry Hills.

Garcia: Sire.  Unknown location.

Giuseppe Giovanni: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni.  Some sort of relative of Mr Giovanni.

Lenny: Rain’s Ghoul and artist friend

Madeline Blackwell: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni, working at the State Coroners Court.

Night Rider: Red-haired vampire?  Works for the Prince.

Pangea: a Nosferatu (tunnel builder)

Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats

Prince Sarrasine (Sar-ras-seen): Toreador Ruler of Sydney*

Sparrow: a Nosferatu of the warren in Pyrmont, closest to home

Glossary of terms:

Anarchists: a faction of Vampires.  Caused issues in Los Angeles recently, killed the Prince.

Antediluvian: from before the time of the biblical flood.  The third generation that were the progenitors of the thirteen clans of vampires.

Blood hunt:  A process to destroy a vampire who has broken a tradition.  Specifically mentioned in the sixth.

Canaanites: Those descended from Cain, the first murderer and vampire.

Camarilla:  a faction of Vampires closest to the Princes.  Believe in hierarchy and order.

Clan or Bloodline:  From one the 13 antediluvians. 

Marauder: A mage gone mad.  Living in his own pocket dimension that answers to the whim of his broken mind.

Diablerie : the drinking another vampire blood and soul

Favour:  How Vampires pay for things they want or need doing.

Fetter: A place, person or thing that binds a wraith to the Shadowlands.

Ghouls: Servants of a vampire who have been fed vitae.  They are loyal, stronger, more resilient and sometimes show other powers gained from the blood. They must receive the blood at least once  a month  or they return to being human. Can be addictive.  

Hunter:  Members of the Society of Leopold, a branch of the Catholic Church.  Fanatical vampire hunters and killers.

Kin: Vampires, a name among themselves

Kine: Humans

Marauder:  a rouge mage, often mad. They are likely to act in a way that exposes the Otherworld of the Masquerade to exposure. 

Men in Black: An international unit dedicated to controlling supernatural and alien entities.

Sabbat: a faction of Vampires that believe that the progenitors of the clans will one day awake and eat all their young.

Masquerade : The rule that keeps vampire society safe.  Hiding ones nature from the world.

Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.

*Sarrasine, a novella by Balzac.  Sarrasine is a sculpture who is infatuated with an Opera Singer, Zambinella. She thinks herself cursed and deflects his advances.  At a performance, Zambinella is revealed to Sarrasine to be a castrato.  In a rage, Sarrasine attacks the singer, only to be cut down and killed by their bodyguard.

10.15 pm 7 hours until dawn. The Crowbar.

Bandolers full of grenades were being donned, and firearms brandished as I opened the door to Mr Giovanni’s office.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Giovanni?” I asked coolly as I could when Stallion picked up a pump-action shotgun and started loading shells. This wasn’t good. We weren’t expected to do the job until the following night, and I didn’t want to go into a gunfight with Mr. Giovanni angry at me. 

“Yes, the schedule has been moved. The Men in Black are in town.”

“Oh, don’t worry about the Men in Black,” I brushed the thought aside and pulled out my phone, “They’re people. That’s what I do.”

  I showed him a list of supplies I’d considered for the job. ” Do I still have time to get a few things?” As I distracted him, I slipped four playing cards into his pocket. If I couldn’t have that conversation before the job, then I’d have to make time—hopefully, before he took the opportunity to blow my head off with friendly fire. 

“What? Yes, take what you like from the party stores,” Mr Giovanni brushed the list aside with the same contempt I’d shown for the Men in Black, “You have twenty minutes to get ready, and then we’re out of here.” 

I did what all great artists do when under constraints of any kind: adapt, make do and move on.  I raided the stores and scrounged what I could from the bar and its clients.  Luna methodically prepared herself for battle. Leaving her beloved library, she tied her long hair into a bun and took out her piercings.  She selected a knife as her weapon and a string of flashbang grenades.  Izac watched her, looking for anything to help understand her thinking. He followed suit, picking up a pistol with the blade and grenades.  Mr Giovanni took out his favourite, the Beretta, his share of flashbangs and several spare magazines.  When I returned with a sports bag full of useful items, I gave everyone an elastic band to help with discerning illusions from real life, and I grabbed a couple of smoke grenades.  I tried not to stare at the guns on the table. I did a poor job.

“Hey, you need any help there?” I heard Izac in one ear beside me.”

“Rain.  You don’t need to take one,” It was Luna.  How long had I been just standing there?  

“Want some help there, buddy?”Even Stallion offered help.

“Huh?  No, I’m fine.  I have everything I need,” I kicked the bag.

“It could be useful,” Mr Giovanni said, grabbing a pistol and two magazines before dropping them into my bag. My bag of tricks tainted, I barely noticed when he dipped his hand into the pocket where the cards lay. Surely now, he’d say something.

He looked at the cards confused, knocked them together and placed them on his table uncommented. 

I sighed.

“Everyone ready?”   He said, smoothing down his jacket to hide the apparent grenade-shaped lumps underneath.

“Sure,” I replied, swiping the cards off the table into my waiting hand as they walked out the door. 

10.55 pm 7 hours until sunrise On route to Haymarket

The Range Rover was the logical car for the job. It wouldn’t stand out like the limousine, and we couldn’t all fit into one of the sedans. Izac was driving again, and Mr Giovanni was in the passenger seat.  I’d made a clumsy attempt to push the cards onto Mr Giovanni again as I took my seat behind him, and he noticed the movement.

“What’s this?” He pulled out the cards and showed them to the others: a Joker, a Jack of Spades, a Queen of Diamonds, and an Ace of Hearts, bent and torn.

“What’s this in aid of, Rain?”

“In aid of finally having a conversation about what happened.  In aid of explaining that you are respected and that it’s not because the Prince or the Traditions say so.  It’s because you have our lives in your hands.  I know that.  I do respect you, Mr Giovanni.”

“Is that some sort of…apology?”

Did he need another? “Yes.  That night was a regrettable mess, and I’m sorry for it.”

“Isn’t someone missing?” he asked, looking at the cards. I made the King of Clubs appear in my hand and slipped it in amongst the others. He looked at them momentarily, then returned them to his pocket.

“We’ll talk later.  Right now, we have a fight to get to.”

Great.  Good chat. I sighed and leaned back into my seat.

Luna stuck in her ear pods and tuned out of the ominous silence in the car.

“So, what’s everyone’s favourite drink?” Izac asked by way of polite small talk. Just at his mentioning, I could smell the Glenfiddich that Mr Morris would always drink after dinner. 

Gone too soon, I silently saluted the old man and answered Izac’s question. 

The trip across town was fast and uneventful. Izac found parking just off Little Hay Street when he spotted the four men.  Strategically placed around the entrance to the laneway, dressed in black suits, they looked out of place regardless of how casually they acted.

“We need to be careful around these people,” Mr Giovanni warned. They can make you forget whatever they want. So, what’s our plan, everyone? We can try dominating, but I feel that’s a skill only I possess. We could try luring them into the pocket dimension and let them mind-wipe everyone in there. If all else fails, we drag them through and deal with them on the other side.”

“I could try something on them,” Stallion said, probably just as straightforward and violent as Mr Giovanni’s offerings.

No subtlety. No finesse

“Do you think I could try having a chat first?” I winced.

“Yes, that will be Plan A.  Plan B is for when that fails.”
Knowing that the man who controls your literal life is fully confident in your abilities is a real boost to the ego.  

At that moment, a text from the Prince arrived. I saw Mr Giovanni reach for his phone at the same time.

WE HAVE TALKED TO THE EASTENERS AND THEY HAVE SAID THEY WILL NOT INTERFERE AS LONG AS YOU DON’T TAKE TOO LONG.

“Okay, we’re on a time limit, everyone.”

“Rain the socialite to the rescue, huh?” Izac joked.

“It seems we have the local’s permission,” I said, hinting that I had received the same message.

“As long as we don’t waste time.”

I straightened my suit, picked up my bag and walked ahead of the party.  I nodded to one of the men across the road and saluted one sitting at a bench seat as we passed. I felt the blood rush in my veins as all their eyes locked onto me, and I couldn’t resist a tiny smile. 

“Should I turn on the Boom Box?” Stallion, somewhere behind, asked.

“Not yet!” Mr Giovanni growled back.

“Hold on,” The nearest man stood, barring my way. 

Slowing, I gestured for the others to continue through, “Sorry, we’re late.  We’re part of the local division.” 

“Oh, we’re glad to have you on the case.  We didn’t think there was any local division,” The man looked relieved, even pleased that someone else was taking responsibility.

“Don’t worry about it; we’ve got it sorted,” I smiled, quickened my stride, and caught up with the others as they passed the first neon kewpie doll and entered the alley.

The first thing we noticed was the silence. There was no background noise from the City.  There was no traffic passing the alley only metres from where we stood, and there were no sounds or voices from the thousands that lived in apartments throughout the area. Everything was still. The second thing we noticed was the old wooden barn-style door on the nearest wall. It was out of place against the slick modern concrete and glass. This was the place. Without another word, Mr Giovanni opened the door, and we entered…

…an overcast afternoon in a generic city setting.  In hindsight, we all should have shrunk away from the light, but none of us were worried about permanent sunburns. Standing fifty metres tall, two monsters fought over, around and through the cityscape. People screamed and ran in all directions, escaping the unmindful feet of the beast.  Some didn’t make it. Izac flicked his elastic band, found it all too real, and started looking for shelter. Stallion went to steal one of the hundreds of cars lying idle in the middle of the road, found nowhere to go and left it.  I took a moment to plug my ears and breathed in.  You could smell the concrete dust, the fumes of cars left idling in the street, and the blood on the footpath.  The ground shivered as pieces of masonry and glass rained down. If this was an illusion, it was a good one.   

By this time, Izac and Mr Giovanni had noticed the flow of the crowd.  They ran in all directions except one spot a few metres away.  No one seemed to be looking at that spot, and all the panicked people flowed around it like a pack of prey animals shying from a hidden predator.  We moved towards it as I turned on Auspex and scanned for auras. 

“Cut! Cut! What do you think you are doing?” Suddenly, like that hidden predator, a surly bearded man in his thirties flanked by a camera, boom operator, writer, catering staff, and even what looked like an actor picking his nails appeared in the forbidden space.

“What have we told you extras about not looking at the camera?!” 

“Ur…sorry, we just got here.  The agency sent us across,” I adlibbed as the others took in the group who had just appeared before us.

“Have you signed the waiver?” The director-type asked, holding out a hand for the forms.

“We left them with the office,” I gestured back where we’d come.

“Well, you can sign again here,” He pulled out a form, and I signed Antonia Banderas.  

I took note of the auras around us. The screaming, running crowd were a universal orange. They were real and genuinely scared for their lives.  The monsters were also wreathed in white auras of innocence or at least ignorance and sparkles in what I assumed denoted magic. The director’s aura was red and brown, angry and bitter, probably at our interruption.  Beside them, a character with a script in hand oozed the dark blue of suspicion and green of obsession.  An assistant director?  Behind them, a scruffy grey-haired man glared daggers at us new arrivals. A true believer in the power of story with his black hate for us and his gold spiritual belief, the writer, I assume.  The boom operator was envious of us? Maybe he wanted the attention of the director. The cater, a woman in a tidy black hospitality uniform, glowed with a compassionate pink and calm light blue aura while the cameraman was the only one who looked to be enjoying his work.  Innocent white, gold of true belief, blue of the lovelorn and vermillion of happiness. The camera, too, glowed with the sparkles of magic.  

Hm-hmm.

“Uh, we’ll just organise ourselves over here,” I said, gesturing for the others to withdraw to one side. 

“You have ten minutes,” The director ordered.

I quickly told them what I’d discovered, “My bet’s on the cameraman.  He’s the only one here who’s enjoying himself. Besides, the camera is magic.”

“But wouldn’t the mage want to be the star of the show?” Izac suggested. I checked the actor and saw only a bubbling aura of angry red.  I let Izac know, but I kept my eye on the cameraman. 

We split up, mixing with the crew.  Mr Giovanni, Luna and Stallion stayed back quietly, watching as Izac sauntered over to talk to the actor.

“Hi, we’re new on set.  Can you give us any pointers?”

“So, what’s it to me?” The actor replied, rolling his eyes.

I decided to take an easier path and went to catering.  The woman smiled and gestured to the display of food and drinks on offer.

“Hi, what would you like?”

“I’m just trying to get a lay of the land, here.  What do you know about this place?”

“I don’t know,” her brow furrowed with concern. I don’t know how I got here.”

“Well, how about the director?  Know anything about him?”

“Oh yes, he’s a great man, a master of the craft.”

“And the writer?” I had to point him out.

“Him?  He’s a miserable hack.”  

“Now the cameraman, he’s famous, isn’t he?”

Again, the confused look and she shook her head, “No, I don’t know him.”

Mr Giovanni silently looked to Stallion and pointed at the huge brick he’d been carrying on his shoulder since leaving the car. 

“Now?”

“Yes, it seems an appropriate time.”

Stallion put down the boom box and pressed play on the CD player. Suddenly, the whole area was full of heavy, distorted electric guitar, strumming bass and a man’s raw vocals.

The secret side of me

I never let you see

I keep it caged, but I can’t control it

So stay away from me

“What now?” The director complained as the cameraman turned the camera to face Stallion, Mr Giovanni and Luna. They tried moving out of the way, and found something blocked them from leaving.  Invisible wall of force kept them in the camera’s gaze. They were trapped.

The beast is ugly

I feel the rage, and I just can’t hold it

“So, that’s how it is.” Mr Giovanni grabbed one of his flashbangs and threw it at the director. Stallion went to emulate the stunt and dropped the flashbang at his feet.

It’s scratching on the walls

In the closet, in the halls

Mr Giovanni had the presence of mind to jump back out of the grenade’s range. Izac and I turned away and felt only the shockwave of the explosive roll over.  Luna failed to react and was sent reeling back, blinded, and her ears ringing.  With the flashbang, the background inside the camera’s view disappeared, leaving a white void behind Mr Giovanni, Stallion and Luna. 

It comes awake, and I can’t control it

Hiding under the bed

In my body, in my head

With half the party locked to the camera or stunned, I took my chance and hoped that someone would back me up.  I ran for the cameraman, grabbed him and bit into his neck.  I could hear screaming around us, not for the monsters who had gone silent since the director called cut, but for me.  

The monster in their midst.  

If Mr Giovanni had cause to destroy me before, breaking the Masquerade would give him all the justification he needed. Fortunately, now the cameraman was focused on fighting me, the camera released its hold on the others.

Why won’t somebody come and save me from this?

Make it end

I feel it deep within

It’s just beneath the skin

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mr Giovanni reach into his jacket and pull out his Beretta.  Taking his time, he lined up his shot point directly towards me and the cameraman. For a moment, all I could see was the black hole that was the Beretta’s barrel.  

I could see my future down it.

Luna marched over to the actor just as Izac pulled out a flashbang.  With only a moment to respond, Izac dropped the flashbang and dived for Luna.  He missed.  Luna was forced away once more, blind and deaf.  Standing quietly to one side, Stallion seemed to focus his thoughts in my direction.  I expected him to come out swinging, but he slowly stepped forward. 

I must confess that I feel like a monster

I hate what I’ve become

The nightmare’s just begun

The cameraman bucked, and I lost hold of his neck.  In that moment, I didn’t know if to stay and keep the cameraman from escaping or to run myself from Mr Giovanni’s gun.  A second later, the gun discharged, and I felt the bullet hit, rocking the cameraman. 

He wasn’t aiming at me!  Mr Giovanni slowly walked in, holding his aim. 

 Izac was made aware of all the people who were now witnesses to my attack.  Pulling out two flashbangs, he threw one into the crowd.  The second fell at his feet.  He didn’t get away this time, and now he and Luna were stumbling around disorientated.  Stallion held his gaze, slowly stepping in.  Something was happening. His aura was now a purple static fizzing around him. Nervous and aggressive, like a young lion on its first hunt

I must confess that I feel like a monster

I, I feel like a monster

I, I feel like a monster

I bit the cameraman again and drank.  The Beretta discharged again, the cameraman’s body bucked and slowly slumped to the ground.  I let him go.  Around us, the world was collapsing, crumbling away at the edges.

 Had we done it?  Was it over?  

With the cameraman dead, Stallion gave up his focused pose and charged the camera itself. Like Stallion of old, he picked it up and slammed it into the ground. The magic, gone with its master, split the camera’s casing, the film magazine bounced away, and the lens smashed into a million shards. I nodded my thanks and turned my attention to the remaining crew.

“So? What do you think? A new twist on the old monster genre—a mashup of kaiju and vampires. Brilliant, right?”

Maybe everything we’d done in this pocket dimension was a little too real. Perhaps I still have blood on my lips as I spoke to them.  They didn’t buy my idea.

My secret side I keep

Hid under lock and key

I keep it caged, but I can’t control it

‘Cause if I let him out

He’ll tear me up, break me down

Why won’t somebody come and save me from this?

Thankfully, my failure to impress the crew didn’t hinder my chances of living, as Mr Giovanni now turned his attention to the screaming crowds.  He threw a flashbang at a group who fell over, disorientated.

“Rain, get the Men in Black in here to help make the crowd forget.”

Stallion had gone back to staring at people, this time the director. Unlike the mage, the director quickly succumbed to Stallion’s control, his aura instantly dropping from a fearful orange to a calm pale blue.

Glancing at Luna and Izac, I realised I could do nothing for either, so I searched the area for auras. Everything was an almost universal orange of fear. The only exception was the actor was still peeved.  Heeding Mr Giovanni’s words, I started walking back where we’d come, looking for the old barn door. Crumbling concrete and pavement were all there was to see, though I was sure I was in the right place. 

“Hey, fellas!  We could use a little cleanup here!” I called, hoping the sound would travel out of the pocket dimension. Then I remembered the silence we’d experienced walking into the alley.  Nope, it wouldn’t.

Make it end

I feel it deep within

It’s just beneath the skin

I must confess that I feel like a monster

I hate what I’ve become

The nightmare’s just begun

Mr Giovanni continued to control the panicked crowd with flashbangs as Stallion left the director in a stupor to try the cater.  She wasn’t as easy to sway and resisted him.  By this time, Luna had regained her senses. Stumbling away from the affronted actor, she pulled out her flashbangs and handed them to Mr Giovanni.  She seemed disinterested in the chaos and returned to Izac’s side. Once there, Luna knelt down and rubbed his back comfortingly. Had I seen her be so gentle to any of us?  

I must confess that I feel like a monster

I feel it deep within

It’s just beneath the skin

I must confess that I feel like a monster

I, I feel like a monster

I, I feel like a monster

Having failed to find the door, I tried to help control the remaining crowd.  This time, I made myself the imposing monster they feared and tried scaring the crowds together, like herding sheep.  As much as some vampires may call the kine livestock, they do not flock well, all I did was scatter them further.  The flashbang that came hurtling towards me I didn’t take as punishment for failure, just a bad shot at a loose group.  I threw myself out of the way of the blast.

It’s hiding in the dark

It’s teeth are razor sharp

There’s no escape for me, it wants my soul, it wants my heart

No one can hear me scream

Maybe it’s just a dream

Maybe it’s inside of me

Stop this monster

I feel it deep within

It’s just beneath the skin

Stallion took out the scattered few with a flashbang, and now all that was left was the crew. The docile director, the angry actor, the caring cater, the irate writer and the boom operator. All around us, the crumbling of the pocket reality was advancing. Luna helped Izac to his feet as the ground shuddered and broke under them.  Whole patches of overcast sky fell away, revealing the nighttime alleyway and its kewpie dolls.  Now, the Men in Black swarmed in.  They efficiently started corralling the crowd and ushering them into black vans parked on the street.  Regardless of how many people trooped in, like tiny pocket dimensions of their own, there always seemed room for more aboard. The fifty-plus people quickly disappeared into two vans.  

“Good work,” Mr Giovanni said, going up to the man I’d spoken to at the entrance, shaking his hand.

“The same could be said for you guys.  Very efficient.” He replied.

“Thank you for your service,” I added, also shaking his hand as Luna and Izac, supporting each other, stumbled by back to the car.

“I’m going to drive, okay?” Stallion said, grabbing the offered keys off Mr Giovanni and racing to get to the car first. 

“Time to go before we outstay our welcome,” Mr Giovanni murmured. Side by side, we followed Luna and Izac out of the alleyway and back to the car.

“I should punch you in the face,” Luna grumbled to Izac as she leaned into his side.

“Deservedly so.  I’m really sorry, Luna,” Izac said, his head still throbbing.

“So you should,” she replied, helping him into the back seat of the Jeep. Together, they shared her headphones, leaning into each other, blissfully unaware of anything except the music all the way back to the bar. 

As Stallion pulled out and turned us west along George Street, Mr Giovanni texted the Prince.  Another job completed.  I waited until he put his phone away to break the silence.

“Mr Giovanni.  When you raised your gun to shoot the mage, I thought you were going to shoot me.”
“Why would you think such a thing?” He seemed genuinely surprised, which I considered comforting. It hadn’t even entered his mind.

“Something Izac said,” I replied cryptically.  Izac and Luna may have been obvious, but Stallion was still listening in.

“Oh, we’re not there yet,” He smiled. It had been a good night, “You do some precarious things.  You walk a fine line.  Just ask in the future before you run off and do something ridiculous.”

Well, better ridiculous than dead, I always say.

“Oh,” He had turned to look through the vanity mirror behind the passenger seat visor, checking for anyone following, “And good work with identifying the cameraman as the mage.”

Redemption.  

“That’s what I do.” 

As usual, the downtime in the car after an event was quiet.  I turned in my seat, my back to the window and watched Izac and Luna as they sat peacefully head to head, a faint buzz of a rock tune surrounding them.

“…just to find that feeling, just to let you know…..just to let it go…”

She, her hair pulled back and her piercings gone looked older than her frozen eighteen years.  Izac, who knew how old he was, looked no more than twenty-four. They were comfortable in each other’s space, and finally comfortable with each other.  And though I was glad they had finally come to some sort of peace, my happiness was bittersweet.  

You idiot.  She’s half your age.

In a hundred years, would that gap be as relevant?
Hah, says the man who barely made to his second month without being destroyed. 

You have a point.  

I watched them, a voyeur, and meditated on their young lives.

11.25pm   6 hours before sunrise The Crowbar

“Those flashbangs really worked. I wish I’d been more useful with them,” Stallion said to Mr Giovanni as he made his way into Leichhardt. They’d been discussing the evening between themselves for most of the drive.  

“A trip out to the farm would sort all that out,” Mr Giovanni responded confidently, catching both my and Izac’s attention.  

“What…about the farm?!” He started as if awoken from sleep.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” I added my voice of concern.  Stallion drove the car into the bar’s underground carpark.

“There’s Nothing to worry about. I own many properties,” Mr Giovanni replied. He didn’t bother explaining further and left the car.  

Izac and Luna climbed the stairs back to the library as one.  The thought of the library reminded me I still have the small white book, Days of Fire to return.  It had been in my pocket all night, but there’d never been a moment I could have returned the book unnoticed. At the same time, I had roused the blood several times during the night, and it was now demanding its reward.  

The book first, then we’ll see about a snack, I promised myself and climbed the stairs after them. 

I was partway up when Stallion’s heavy tread echoed mine.  

“Rain, you wanted to look at the Thaumaturgy book.  I was coming up to get it.”

“That is kind of you. I’m sure I can find it…”

“I know where I put it.  It won’t take a tick.” He stepped past me and into the room.  Great, a whole audience of on-lookers.  Then I better give them a show.

Luna was in her usual leather chair, and Izac was at the desk leaning over a tome.  Stallion went straight to the shelves.  I found the edge of the Persian rug with the toe of my shoe and tripped forward.  

“Oops!” Hand cartwheeling, I caught hold of Stallion, slipping the white leather book from my pocket between two others on the shelf as if it had always been there.  

Luna glanced up, saw I wasn’t hurt and returned to her book.  Izac made a winced, sympathising with my counterfeit pain.

“Sorry, Stallion.  I guess tonight’s excitement took more out of me than I thought,” I held my hand over my face, feigning dizziness, “I think I’ll go get a snack.”

Instantly, I knew I’d said the wrong thing.  Izac’s face went from sympathetic pain to fuming, almost anger at my throwaway phrase.   Out of one fire and into the next? I shrugged and left the room without the Thaumaturgy book and another note to myself to try and mend whatever bridge I’d just burned with Izac. 

11.30 pm 6 hours before sunrise, The Crowbar

*****************************************************************************************

Izac’s thoughts:

Two sides of the coin

The prince told him to take them in as their sire. Did I hear that right?

Why?

What reason?

It’ll have to wait; we have something bigger to deal with first… Assuming we survive

Arriving at the site, after our preparation was all set, I noticed the agents that surveyed the alleyway. Our resident socialite did his magic and paved the way. He is a smooth talker and always has an answer for every occasion and convinced them we were from “HQ”. Strolling past them we headed into the alley, the surrounding becoming eerily quiet as we approached the out of place door in the wall.

A monster movie? Really? Turns out this marauder was a film maniac in life and decided to use us as extras in his sick idea of creativity. That is, if he had the chance… before he could even get things ready for a second take, Rain quickly uncovered the identity of the magician and went to work. I, in the meantime, was too busy seeing white and hearing nothing. I’m not as good at throwing flashbangs as I thought. With reality crumbling when I regained my senses it was too late for me to try and find a way out.

The sudden change of scenery was more disorientating than the flashbang. When I could see again, we were in the alley, Luna kneeling over me. Her eyes showed no small amount of annoyance. Can’t fault her for that, I did drop the flashbang right near her feet after all. Something has changed in her though: She helped me to my feet and stuck with me to the car. All around us people were being coddled into unmarked vans left and right, but there she was… The drive back, we listened to the playlist she had made. It was nice…

Rolling in back to the Crowbar, I headed straight for the library. I wanted to read more of the books that found my attention and why they did so. As I began to read into “Addiction and you…” Rain stumbled into the room. It looked like it hurt, his foot caught under the carpet. He recovered well enough and set my jaw tight as he casually called the patrons beneath our feet “snacks.” Is that all these humans are to him? I’m beginning to wonder if his cheerful demeanour is all a façade to ensure his survival.

Everyone walks a fine line, I’m no exception. Everywhere I tie myself to others to try and steady theirs. It endangers my own but part of me feels the need to try. There is a limit to this I know, but I don’t know if I have the conviction to cut them loose if it would save me… How far can one go and be convinced back?

 I don’t know…

Favourite Drinks

Giovanni: Cognac

Rain: Glenfiddich, on the rocks

Stallion: Double Black Russian

Luna: “You’re Gonna Go Far”

Fosters myself… 

*****************************************************************************************

Luna’s thoughts:

Full House How does a prison feel, when you’ve made it yourself? 

‘I’m a student. I will learn.’ 

The sentiment was true. Though this didn’t feel like learning, it felt like suffering. Like toil, like a testament, like a test. How long can she cheat in this game? How long until the deals, favours and empty promises come to fruition? Is this borrowed life relying on more borrowed time? How long can you cheat death until he comes to find you? 

The lecturer’s voice fades into the background. She has a quant desk in the corner of the room where she should be studying. Instead she sits on the rug of her floor with the company of a laptop screen and her notebook and less than an hour until sunrise. Even becoming undead could not change her atrocious sleep schedule.

‘Madness is contagious.’ They’ve skipped a couple (all) of the steps. 

“Real magic” Rain had said to her. Everything had a cost. Magic wasn’t an unlimited source one could tap into on a whim. She has an inkling to the power bestowed upon her by the Lord of Flies. In reality, it could truly be a want for him to flaunt a path denied. Though, devils aren’t exactly known for their clarity. Her pen tapped absentmindedly against the letters scribbled on the lined page. 

“You can see. I can see. But we do not see each other.” And she can feel the tantalising thought scratch at her throat.

 ‘But together, we see the world.’ She was gambling. Playing with a deity grander than Dante or John Milton could describe. She wasn’t sure what she was gambling for but she was so close to losing. So close to winning. … 

‘We ain’t angry at you, love’ 

She wishes her music was louder as the single earphone plays in her left ear. But her head was pounding and her other plug was begrudgingly given to Izac. God, how did they get here? One moment the beast wants him dead and the next he’s listening to her playlist. All or nothing is the vampire way, right? 

‘And we’ll all be here forever’ 

She ran a hand across her brows, slightly pressing against the pounding of her head. This is the most she’s been her old self in a long ass time. No piercings, no make up or hair styles. A bare facade in a masquerade ball. 

He threw a fucking flash bang, missed pushing her out of the way and she still helped him. Why? 

You know why. 

God, she does know why. She can’t allow it. Cannot entertain such a thing. It’s too close to reality. Too much of a breech. She needs a shot, a book, a goddamn break. Whatever it is to start running again. 

‘You’re gonna go far’ Where is her anger when she needs it?

You are not a monster. 

She is she is she is she is she is she is she is she is she is she is she is she is she is

If she isn’t then what is she? 

Luna takes a moment to check the corners of her eyes. When her fingertips come back blood free, she refocuses on the book before her. She doesn’t remember what she picked up. Since returning from the pocket reality her ears are still raw and mind slightly scattered. Maybe she should lean against a shelf and sleep. She’s passed out in more uncomfortable places. With a hand around her necklace and knees to her chest, Luna hoped the others would leave her be as she used the facade of sleep to steady herself. 

‘You’re gonna go far’

Notable NPCs

Avel:  Rain’s mother, a wraith.

Bobby Lisner: Malkavian seer who lives in an old Sewer pipe in The Rocks.

Brendan Virgil: A.K.A. Miss Divine Intervention.  Rain’s close friend.

Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni

Detective Woodman:  NSW Policed premiere detective and a sufferer of schizophrenia.  He has an assistant currently called Notetaker.

Garcia: Sire.  Unknown location.

Giuseppe Giovanni: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni.  Some sort of relative of Mr Giovanni.

Lenny: Rain’s Ghoul and artist friend

Madeline Blackwell: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni, working at the State Coroners Court.

Night Rider: Red-haired vampire?  Works for the Prince.

Pangea: a Nosferatu (tunnel builder)

Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats

Prince Sarrasine (Sar-ras-seen): Toreador Ruler of Sydney*

Sparrow: a Nosferatu of the warren in Pyrmont, closest to home

Glossary of terms:

Anarchists: a faction of Vampires.  Caused issues in Los Angeles recently, killed the Prince.

Antediluvian: from before the time of the biblical flood.  The third generation that were the progenitors of the thirteen clans of vampires.

Blood hunt:  A process to destroy a vampire who has broken a tradition.  Specifically mentioned in the sixth.

Canaanites: Those descended from Cain, the first murderer and vampire.

Camarilla:  a faction of Vampires closest to the Princes.  Believe in hierarchy and order.

Clan or Bloodline:  From one the 13 antediluvians. 

Marauder: A mage gone mad.  Living in his own pocket dimension that answers to the whim of his broken mind.

Diablerie : the drinking another vampire blood and soul

Favour:  How Vampires pay for things they want or need doing.

Fetter: A place, person or thing that binds a wraith to the Shadowlands.

Ghouls: Servants of a vampire who have been fed vitae.  They are loyal, stronger, more resilient and sometimes show other powers gained from the blood. They must receive the blood at least once  a month  or they return to being human. Can be addictive.  

Hunter:  Members of the Society of Leopold, a branch of the Catholic Church.  Fanatical vampire hunters and killers.

Kin: Vampires, a name among themselves

Kine: Humans

Marauder:  a rouge mage, often mad. They are likely to act in a way that exposes the Otherworld of the Masquerade to exposure. 

Men in Black: An international unit dedicated to controlling supernatural and alien entities.

Sabbat: a faction of Vampires that believe that the progenitors of the clans will one day awake and eat all their young.

Masquerade : The rule that keeps vampire society safe.  Hiding ones nature from the world.

Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.

*Sarrasine, a novella by Balzac.  Sarrasine is a sculpture who is infatuated with an Opera Singer, Zambinella. She thinks herself cursed and deflects his advances.  At a performance, Zambinella is revealed to Sarrasine to be a castrato.  In a rage, Sarrasine attacks the singer, only to be cut down and killed by their bodyguard.

Private Universe Script

Scene: Exterior night, raining street scene with coloured lights from shops and signs subvdued and grey but still bleeding into the wet street.  Camera pans as a man in a vermilion suit holding an umbrella walks across the street as the intro to the song starts.  He crosses the road and pulls down his umbrella to use as a walking stick for the rest of the video.  

Scene:  Exterior night, raining street scene, graffitied wall.  With the camera square on to the wall he walks up to the wall and seems to walk into it (Labyrinth Style) and disappear.

No time, no place to talk about the weather

Promise of love is hard to ignore

Who said the chance wasn’t getting any better

Labour of live is our to endure

Scene:  Exterior night, beach just at the break water.He steps out of the graffiti on a beach at night, surrounded by blobs of light (torches with coloured filters recorded with long exposures) the wave lapping at his feet. Several turn themselves into an apple tree which he climbs up using the umbrella to hook himself up.  Others swirls change to dark red, vermilion and white and make faces, kissing and laughing below the tree.  The waves wash in, washing away the lovers and the tree, he falls to the sand.

Highest branch of the apple tree

Was my favourite place to be

I could hear them breaking free

But they could not see me

Panning along side the mam, he is running and jumping along the beach, playing with the coloured blobs, popping them with his umbrella.  They explode everywhere.  A sun draws itself into the sky. The sun’s light glows on his skin and he basks in the light.

I will run for shelter

Endless summer life the curse

It feels like nothing matters

In our private universe.

Fixed camera low angle looking up from the breakwater to the lights of the Manly Esplanade.  He sits down in the sand, winded and happy.  Blobs of light make money (green fluttering bank notes) and sparkling jewels. He sweeps them away with his umbrella.  The lights make birds that fly and hop into the shot.  He gestures for them to come forward, and they sit on his knees, umbrella and head.

I have all I want, is that simple enough?

A whole lot more I’m thinking of

Evern night about six o’clock

Birds come back to the pond to talk

They talk to me, birds talk to me

If I go down on my knees.

He stands and runs, the birds flutter away.

Panning camera follows the man as he once more run, followed by the birds. Ahead, a light is growing, lighting him from the front. He puts on a burst of speed and runs out of shot the birds following.

I will run for shelter

Endless summer lift the curse

It feels like nothing matters

In our private universe

Feel like nothing matters

In our private universe

View from behind the man.  He is shilouetted against the light of a graffiti wall, the water to his left, the beach wall and Esplanade to his right.  He tries to find a way through the jagged patterns, conforming and changing shape to fit.  Beyond it is a table, a family eating dinner together all made of light.  

And it’s a pleasure that I have know

And it’s a treasure that I have gained

And it’s a pleasure that I have known

It’s a tight squeeze, but I won’t let go

Time is on the table and the dinner’s cold

Panning shot following the man.  He breaks through to the other side, now surrounded by people made of light and colour.  They all run along the beach together swirling around him into a halo of light.

I will run for shelter

Endless summer lift the curse

It feels like nothing matters

In our private universe

I will run for shelter

Endless summer lift the curse

It feels like nothing matters

In our private universe

In our private universe

In our private universe

Camera fixed and square to the graffiti wall again.  The man runs in surrounded by the lights as the music fades.  He walks back through the wall…

Scene:  Exterior evening.  Raining City street.  A glow of colours comes up from behind the camera as the man steps into frame still surrounded by his halo of light. He puts up his umbrella again, but this time as he passes the street lights, they take on the colours from the halo.  He crosses the street filling the whole night with light and the scene fades out on one fluttering light bird following the man in vermilion.

The man who sold the world Script

Scene:  Night. Exterior nondescript wall.  A man in a vermillion suit sits in a chair before the wall.  The intro music starts, and the wall starts filling with graffiti art. The man stands and interacts with the art.  It makes a set of stairs that he starts to climb.  A shadowy figure in the art walks down the stairs, and they seem to chat.

We passed upon the stair

We spoke of was and when

The stairs disappear under the man who falls a short distance to the ground. The shadowy figure helps the man back on his feet.

Although I wasn’t there

He said I was his friend

Which came as a surprise

The shadowy figure swirls into grey smoke and two dark eyes.

I spoke into his eyes

I thought you died alone

A long long time ago

The eyes blink and swirl away to form the world swirling in star-filled space.

Oh no, not me

I never lost control

You’re face to face

With the man who sold the world

The man laughs and starts walking as the scene on the wall changes from English countryside to landscapes around the world.  

I laughed and shook his hand

And many my way back home

I searched for form and land

For years and years I roamed

The man seems to climb up an incline to the top of a hill, looking out over a nightscape filled with pinpoints of light.  He stops at the top of the hill and looks out as the lights blink out one by one. When the last light goes out, the hill disappears and he falls again, seemingly for a long time…

I gazed a gazely stare

Of all the millions here

We must have died alone

A long, long time ago

The man falls a long time, much like Alice down the rabbit hole he is not in control, but neither is he seemingly in any fear of dying.  Many things are also falling down the hole.  A teacup appears at the bottom of the wall and floats up to the man where he picks it off the wall and drinks from it.  People fall past and he tries to get their attention but they disappear into the top of the wall. He is alone.

Who knows?

Not me

I never lost control

You’re face to face

With the man who sold the world

The man is gently deposited on his feet. He steps away from the wall as it seemingly crumbles away to reveal a city street full of colours.  The man brushes himself off and walks into the city street as the music fades out.

Who knows?

Not me

I never lost control

You’re face to face

With the man who sold the world 

Notes:  Camera fixed, looking straight onto wall.  Time-lapse of the wall and props being painted by Lenny in  black overalls so in the finished scene he’s nothing but a vague blur. Wooden blocks for stairs are painted to supress their 3D shadow.  Interacting with the wall is a cut where images in wiped off and actual prop put into Rain’s hand.  Final walk into the city street is an edited video of an actual street after rain.  The same scene painted onto the wall with Rain acting he’s stepping over the wall to walk into the street linking the two scenes.