A Strange Life

I got you Script

Scene:  Night.  Interior. Plainly decorated room in front of a large bay window.  From the filming angle on the hardwood floors, the viewer can see only rooftops and the night sky outside the window.  As the scene plays out, the stars move across the sky, filmed in time-lapse.

 In front of the window sitting cross-legged in a man in a three-piece suit sitting thoughtfully, a red handkerchief in his lapel pocket.  

The music intro starts, and the man looks up at the camera.

I got you, that’s all I want

Red handkerchief seems to fly out of the lapel pocket across the scene, right to left.  The man catches it by one end and pulls it back.  

I won’t forget, that’s a whole lot

I don’t go out, now that you’re in

Holds handkerchief to face, it curls around his head

Sometimes we shout, but that’s no problem

Handkerchief goes to fly away again, but he catches it from the front (as if ball in handkerchief ) and soothes it.

I don’t know why sometimes I get frightened

Man looks out into distance fearfully

You can see my eyes, you can tell that I’m not lying

Handkerchief flies back and presses to his chest.  He looks down, comforted.

Look at you, you’re a pageant

You’re everything, that I’ve imagined

Handkerchief leaves his chest and flies around his head. The man looks on in wonder.

Something’s wrong, I feel uneasy

Man is startled as a dark shadow to the top right of the screen moves in. 

You show me, tell me you’re not teasing

Handkerchief flies between man and shadow, and the shadow disappears.

I don’t know why sometimes I get frightened

You can see my eyes, you can tell that I’m not lying

I don’t know why sometimes I get frightened

You can see my eyes, you can tell that I’m not lying

Man and handkerchief fool around in front of the camera. Sometimes the handkerchief covers his eyes, and he pulls it away with a happy shake of his head. 

There’s no doubt, not when I’m with you

When I’m without, I stay in my room

The handkerchief disappears.  The man looks around, can’t see her and starts to wrap his arms around his legs, looking fearful.

Where do you go, I get no answer

You’re always out, it gets on my nerves

He calls out “Where do you go?”  and shakes his head as he receives no answer.

He rests his head on his knees

I don’t know why sometimes I get frightened

You can see my eyes you can tell that I’m not lying

The handkerchief reappears from behind him. Taps him on the head and he sits up glad to see her again.

I don’t know why sometimes I get frightened

You can see my eyes, you can tell that I’m not lying

I don’t know why sometimes I get frightened

You can see my eyes, you can tell that I’m not lying

They fool around in front of the camera again until the handkerchief stretches out as if yawing.  As the song fades, the man pulls open his lapel pocket and the handkerchief once more returns to where she was. He pats his pocket, and the image fades with the song.

7.45 pm 11 hours until Sunrise On route to Brandon’s

A new night and a new opportunity to make a mark on the Vampire world. After our private talk in Mr Giovanni’s beautiful car, I felt optimistic and finally sent off a text to Brendan.

ARE YOU STILL HOME? CAN I VISIT?

SURE, the reply promptly lit my screen.

BRINGING A FRIEND FOR YOU TO MEET

OKAY…, this time, not as quickly.  Still, I’m optimistic.

With Luna in tow as…another hopefully persuasive voice, we took the light rail to Central,  the train to Redfern, to the home of Brendan Virgil, or as the Entertainment world knew him, Miss Divine Intervention. When we arrived at his door, Brendan was in his street clothes, neat-casual but plain. I have to admit that dressed like this, he wasn’t much to look at.

“Brendan, I’d like you to finally meet Luna,” I said as we entered the neat and sparsely furnished flat, “Luna, this is my dear friend Brendan.”

“Charmed,” Brendan said politely to Luna and turned back to me, silently waiting for an explanation for the sudden visit.

“I know you’re probably very busy with your preparations for the Succubus gig,” 

“Oh, you know, last-minute loose threads. It’s going to be a great opportunity. This will either set my star or set me up for life.”

“ That good, huh?”

“Oh yes, eight million.  Truthfully. The paperwork is signed and everything.  Frankly, after that gig, I won’t need to work again.”

I looked to Luna, whose eyes were as wide as mine. 

“Eight mill?” My optimism evaporated in the burning glare of eight million dollars, “I can appreciate how pleased you must be. And I can’t compete against eight million dollars, but I’d really love it if you didn’t do the gig.”

“Why the heaven’s not?  I know what I’m getting into.  It’s a burlesque show, an eyes-wide-shut style event. Adult’s only, obviously, but nothing I can’t deal with.”  Brendan was very confident of his position, eight million confident, “I asked around. Everyone speaks highly of the Club.”

What was this?  Who could Brendan be talking to about the Succubus Club? Were there vampires in his extended circle of contacts?

“Can I ask who you’ve talked to?” Luna came to the rescue.

“Sure, others in the industry.  The coordinator, the stage director…”Brendan turned back to me, one well-manicured eyebrow raised, “What’s all this about?”

“I’m worried,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “That if you do that gig, it will be your last,”

“Hmm, I’m betting on it,” He said with a smirk.
“No.  Do you remember I said that the people I work with are the dangerous sort?  The group behind the Succubus Club are…affiated. They are hard on the hired help.”

“Do you think I can’t handle it?”

Time to be a little more honest, “I fear for your safety.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ve hired a make-up artist, hair stylist, costumier—the whole entourage.”

“I certainly can’t vouch for their safety.” I knew Brendan’s makeup lady, the wig designer, and the seamstress—all good people.  

“What are you not telling me?” Brendan, taller than me by more than a head, leaned in.

“I could bring you in.  I could make a compact with you like I did, Lenny. Then, I could tell you,” I suggested with an internal cringe. 

“Lenny, the junkie kid?  I thought you were done with that life.”
“Lenny’s fine.  He’s with me, and his work is amazing, better than I could have dreamed,” I had to change tact.  Anything with Lenny and his junkie past was not going to work for Miss Divine Intervention.

“Look, I don’t want to push in your big moment or anything, but any way of getting me into the show?”

“Of course! Your name has been on the door since day one.  ” Brendan nodded to Luna, ” You and your friends.  In the V.I.P.  area.”

“I don’t mean for the show. I mean in the show—backstage, at least—so I can protect you.”

“Well, of course, you can,” Brendan smiled a little patronisingly.  Brendan’s dealt with drunken homophobes for decades, and he’s done it all in heels and a pencil skirt.  How was I meant to protect him? I didn’t take it personally.

“Okay. Well…” I looked at Luna, who shrugged her shoulders as if to say, How did you think this would turn out?

“Okay.”

“You’ll see.  Everything will be fabulous!”

Across town, the rest were having their own night of excitement.  Stallion was picking up a street-legal dirt bike, Mr Giovanni was busy making last-minute arrangements, to his promised surprise, and Izac was once more at the Club early, reading.  He’d found several books among the collection that spoke to him, including:

Redemption and you?

Ghouls, the fatal addiction by Netchurch.

Dealing with addiction.

The first, a collection of essays written by kindred over the ages, was the one he settled for. It talked about a Golconda or the ‘Promise of Angels, ’ which he knew from other sources had something to do with two kindred clans, the Salubri and the Tremere. It was a life without succumbing to the beast and without drinking blood. Reading between the descriptive lines of the ritual, he determined it could be done over many lifetimes, and there was only one chance of success.  

Mr Giovanni sent a group text.

GREAT NEWS. MEET AT THE CLUB. I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU.

Luna and I were already returning when the text came through.  

“Look, maybe it is a real legit business, “she said as our phones buzzed. You know, do a job and get paid.”
“I’m worried about Brendan living to see the payment,” I sighed at Mr Giovanni’s message.  He was delivering the new dog to Stallion tonight. Why was it a surprise for us?

“An ancient Torredore leads the Club.  I’m worried that if the worst happens, I won’t be able to protect Brendan or the others.”

We entered the club and made straight for the library, where we found Izac reading Redemption and you?

“ What are you doing here?” Luna asked.  She’d taken over the space and seemed antagonistic to Izac’s appearance there.

“Reading. I’m allowed, aren’t I?” Izac slammed down his book, frustrated at Luna’s attitude toward him. I tried to see if I could break the tension.

“Izac, good to see you.  Luna, Izac has offered to help with our little project, the Pit.”

“Oh, has he,” Her eyes narrowed, “And what do you want out of it?”

“Nothing.  I just want to help,” 

“No, that‘s not how it works.  Vampires don’t help…”

“Why not?”

“Everyone is looking out for themselves, ensuring they get their piece of the action.  So, I ask you, what’s your slice?”

“Honestly, Luna, I just…want…to…help.” Izac stretched out his words, adding emphasis in the hope that Luna would believe him.  She glared silently at him, but after reading nothing more than his heartfelt honesty, she dropped the subject and went to search the library.

“Ah, Rain.  Could I have a word in private?” Izac looked at me and pointed towards the door and one of the outer offices. 

“Sure,” I glanced at Luna, who was happily situated in the big leather chair and followed him out of the library.

“I just wanted to give you a little heads-up. Mr Giovanni’s not happy with you.”

It was odd to have Izac as Mr Giovanni’s mouthpiece.  Not for the first time, I wondered about the nature of their arrangement.

“I know I screwed up at the house. I’m willing to work on that. I’ve told him as much.”

“Well, he’s talking about you breaking multiple traditions. That he can have you destroyed.”

Serious talk.  

“You know about the traditions, right?”

I could have recited them.  

“I thank you for taking the time to tell me this. I’m not sure what I can do with it. If he’s going to destroy me, there’s not much I can do about it. “ I like to keep up a glib facade, but I wasn’t all that worried in this case. It seemed a little extreme, and I wondered if this reminder of the power he wielded was a heavy-handed tactic to pull me into line.  Mr Giovanni and I needed to chat.

Izac must have felt he had delivered his message as he changed the subject. 

“You’re close to Luna.  Can you tell me why she’s always angry with me?”

I remembered the night we met Izac and how, even then, Luna’s devil had reared up, making her want to strike out at him. Luna was always standoffish at first but never found her equilibrium with Izac. I figured whatever it was was better coming from Luna and gave him another reason.

“I know she hates how you schemed with Mr Giovanni to deal with the Boofhead issue.  I told her that we will always be schemed against while we act in the world, especially when it hurts or hinders others.  I don’t know if it helped.”

It was clear he didn’t like the plotting either. He seemed to accept that.

 “I know you wanted to be more honest about the whole thing.  What happened to Stallion was pretty disturbing. But disturbing things happen, and we live through them.”

“I just want to make this a better place, you know?” He said, a rush of confession that surprised me, “I just want things to be…better.”

What an appallingly naive and arrogant thought. It was the battle cry of every murdering dictator in history.

As if one person could make all things better. Even the word ‘better’ is problematic. Better for who?  You?  Your friends?  Who suffers in the attempt?  

It was clear it was the thought behind the Stallion affair. Make it better for him, and as a result, nearly destroy all of us.

“I…don’t know what to do with that, either.” I finally said.

It was opportune that at that moment, Stallion arrived, followed soon after by Mr Giovanni. We gathered in the office for the aforementioned surprise.

“Stallion, everyone. As promised, we have found Slobbers,” Mr Giovanni announced grandly. He was in a high mood.  

The dog was walked in, off-lead and sat in the middle of the room in front of Stallion. It looked like Slobbers.  I am no judge of dogs, but it looked exactly like Slobbers.

Stallion needed clarification.

“Stallion, is that any way to treat your old friend?” Mr Giovanni encouraged Stallion, who dutifully stepped up.

“Have we met…before?” The dog thumped its tail lazily on the ground.

“Um…could we have a moment alone?” Stallion asked as we stepped aside to allow him access to the library.  Stallion walked in, and the dog followed along.  

As soon as the door was closed, Izac, Luna and myself took up positions around it to listen. 

Stallion started conversing in barks, growls, and squeaks. We’d seen it enough times to know it was universal animal speech. We’d even heard him use it with Slobbers a few times.  

“I am your Slobbers.  I am your sweet dog,” Was not what I expected to hear in reply.  In a voice tired and without the spark of life even I’d seen in Slobber’s eyes, the dog replied in English. I turned to where Mr Giovanni was standing behind his desk, with a huge self-satisfied grin.  

Another set of noises.

“Sounds great,” Again, the voice with no life.

More noises.

“There was an open door. There were good smells, new sights.”
A questioning squeak.

“I don’t know.  I was alone.  Luckily, he found me,” It was unclear who ‘he’ was.  I guessed Mr Giovanni and continued to listen.

Growling.  Not a command this time but a comment between friends.

“Yes, me and you together – forever.”

A questioning growl and “Boofhead”.

“I don’t know who that is.”

Another growl and footsteps across the wooden floorboards.  We quickly scrambled back away from the door.  I’m not ordinarily clumsy, but a rug end, my awkward position at the door or the disturbing nature of what we were part of made me stumble.  Without grace, I grabbed the door and swung it open for Stallion.

“So, everything good then?”

My low angle did give me an excellent, close-up view of the dog’s face. I nearly choked on my words as I saw two brown human eyes staring back at me.

“Rain, you’re acting really weird,” Stallion commented, walking back to Mr Giovanni, who was delighted.  While they were congratulating each other, I quickly gestured for Luna to look at the dog’s eyes. I couldn’t catch Izac’s gaze; he was staring daggers at Mr Giovanni.

“I’m so happy we could find him for you.” Mr Giovanni said, shaking Stallion’s hand, “Say, you should go for a walk.”
“Hey, yeah,” Stallion perked up at the thought of a walk, much as Slobbers had.  Needless to say, the current dog just sat there, “We should all go out for a walk together.”

“Yes,” I agreed, getting off the floor, “We’re all friends here,” I focused my attention on the dog.  It stared back blankly.

So, out into the mid-autumn evening, we stepped. An odd group of suit-clad men and a goth girl were walking a dog. The unleashed dog stayed by Stallion’s side in deliberate lockstep. As we cleared the busy shopping district and travelled footpaths empty of locals, the group separated: Luna and I with Stallion and the dog, and Izac behind with Mr Giovanni.

“You’re a monster, you know that?” Izac mumbled only loud enough for the monster beside him to hear.

“We’re all monsters, Izac, you know that.”

“We’re all monsters, but we don’t have to act like them.  Look, I talked with Rain.”
“You needn’t.  Let children grow and learn for themselves.”
“At least give a guiding rail?”
“Well, let’s see where it takes us.”
“And what sort of lie is that? I saw its teeth.”

“I didn’t lie.  I got him his dog.”
“Yeah, a bit more human than usual.”

“Very human,” Mr Giovanni chuckled darkly.

“What did you do?” 

“With my vast wealth, I had…an associate make a facsimile.  Slobbers is now what Boofhead used to be, but made with other…materials.”

“What other materials?” Izac whispered between clenched teeth.

In a highly uncharacteristic move, Mr Giovanni wrapped his arm around Izac’s shoulder. With his other arm, he gestured to the world around them: the night runners, those with actual dogs getting in a last potty break, lovers holding hands in the moonlight, and workers scurrying home. 

“You’re an evil man, Mr Giovanni,” Izac finally articulated.

“Only mediocre evil.  You haven’t met real evil.” 

“I’d appreciate it if you point them out.”

“My job,” Mr Giovanni said, releasing his hold on Izac, “Is trying to keep you away from them.”

Luna and I were silent and polite, oblivious to the conversation behind us. The dog was, too, dutifully staying by Stallion’s side, never distracted by a smell, distant noise, or sudden movement. It was eerie.

I turned on Auspex.  The dog was surrounded by a thick aura of vibrant orange flecked with silver.  Blotches in the aura told me it was a ghoul, but the fear…it was amazing we couldn’t sense it.  A normal dog would be shivering, with its tail between legs, running from the source of fear.  This one walked calmly beside Stallion.

“I wish I had a ball,” Stallion lamented.  The dog didn’t agree.

“ Throw a stick instead,” Mr Giovanni quickened his stride to join us.  His aura filled the night with vermillion. For the first time, I was reminded how close my favourite aura was to blood. He leaned down, seemingly just to pet the dog, “You should PLAY.”

Luna tensed beside me, and I was aware I’d missed something.  Not happy with a standard stick off the ground, Stallion pulled a living branch from a nearby tree and stripped the leaves.  When he threw the stick, the obedient dog ran after it.  We watched a streak of orange running through the night, never being free.  As Stallion took the stick and threw it back into the night, all his confusion and doubts were gone.  His aura, besides the black veins, was the match for Mr Giovanni’s.  Luna’s aura coiled with ribbons of light green distrust through a black cloud of hatred. After my conversation with Izac, his aura wasn’t as surprising.  A mix of bitter brown and pink compassion.  Our shining knight, forced to deal with…monsters. And I thought my internal life was complicated. 

“I didn’t tell you guys. I bought a bike.” Stallion’s good mood made Him talkative, and he gave us all the details of his latest acquisition.  

“Hey, Luna.  Do you want to go for a double on my bike sometime?”

“Without a helmet?  Deathtrap.” She brushed the idea aside, but Stallion is persistent.

“Come on.  If you don’t try new things, you’ll always be scared.”

She stiffened.  That hit a mark. I could have told her throwing yourself into danger didn’t make the fear any less, but I had an idea she already knew that. 

“I could show you how to ride,” Stallion tried again.

“No, thank you.” 

We must have been a very dour group for the happy Stallion, as he soon declared he would ride home with the dog. I quickly sent an SMS to Lenny, who was alone in the house.

LOCK YOUR BEDROOM DOOR. TALK LATER TONIGHT.

With Stallion and the dog gone and Mr Giovanni in close conversation with Izac, Luna and I could compare notes about the night.

“Whatever it is, the dog is terrified.”
“Of who? Mr Giovanni, you know he dominated Slobbers to play, don’t you?”

“Did he?  It is ghoulled, but if it was Mr Giovanni’s ghoul, why would he need to dominate it?”

Somehow, the thought of Mr Giovanni’s authority reminded me of Izac’s warning.

“Oh, and it seems I’m being threatened with destruction.  That was what Izac wanted to talk to me about.”

“You do have a problem with respecting your elders,” Luna said, and I had to agree. 

“I admit I failed to live up to expectations at the house, and I’ll take the punishment for it.  I just don’t think I’m as bad as Stalliion or Izac who actually threatened to break the Masquerade.  I upset our sire. If the Prince is involved…” I let my thought trail off. 

“Besides, in public, I’m the perfect childe.”

“Hmm-mm,” She agreed sarcastically.

“In public.”

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

The Pyrmont house was quiet when Stallion and the dog rolled up to the door.  

“Well, here we are, Slobbers. This is our place.” He opened the door, and the dog walked in. Rain will be finicky about stuff, so… are you housetrained? Hey, can you use a toilet?”

“Of course,” the dog looked around. I’m tired. Can I go to bed now?”

Not for the first time, Stallion was surprised at how articulate this dog was. Either that or his ability to talk to animals was improving. Maybe it was that.

“Sure, buddy. This way,” Stallion led the dog down the hallway to the kitchen. Just beyond, Lenny’s studio door was shut.

“Hey, Lenny, come and meet my new dog,” He called as the dog found the bed that still smelled of the real  Slobbers and sat down.

The door remained shut. What was his problem?

“Hey, Slobbers, do you want food?  Are you hungry?”

The dog raised its head and considered the idea.

“Yes, I’m hungry.”

Stallion found the dog food and bowl he’d bought and presented the dog with his meal.  It stared at it for a moment before slowly gulping down the cold wet slop.

“Hey, master, do you think next time I could have a steak instead?” It said once it had done its best to finish the meal.

“Ah, sure.  Yeah, buddy.  I’ll get you some steaks after the bog job Mr Giovanni has us on.  If we survive it, it’ll be steaks all ‘round.”

“If you survive?”

“Yeah, warlocks, wizards and that sort of shit.  People be loopy.”
“They sure are.” The dog agreed, returning to its bed.

“Hey, Lenny, don’t be surprised.  I have a new dog!”

Still nothing from behind the door.

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

“Yeah, so besides the eyes thing, the dog talks English,” I was in the Library with Luna and Izac when my phone vibrated with a message from Lenny.

WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THAT DOG?

“And now Lenny has heard the dog,” I sighed, “I have to go home.”

“Fine. Go deal. I’m going to stay here studying,” Luna found another book and sat down in her favourite spot. 

“Good. I want a word with you, Luna.” It seemed that Izac took the opportunity of me leaving to start a war. Why are you snarky at me all the time?”

“Hmm, yeah, about that,” She replied, not looking up from her book.

“Should I…stay and….” I started, but to the two of them, I was already on my way home, so I left them to it.

“Is everything alright with you?”

“Define, ‘Alright’?”

“What?”

“You are going to have to define that for me, “she said, putting down her book. To you, what does ‘alright’ mean? Look around. Does everything seem all right to you?”

“I mean…” Izac stammered, and rightly so. When you need to explain a generic statement of concern, you’ve got to know something’s very wrong.

“Look, I know you wanted Stallion to have free choice, sweet idea. He decided to put his dog before us. Then you came along, knowing how things should be, and went out of your way to cost us sooo much. You and Stallion nearly broke the Masquerade!”

“Yes, but…”

“I understand you’ve been a stray for a while and didn’t have all the facts, but do you expect me to let you in at the expense of us?”

“I apologise…”

“Don’t apologise.  You don’t mean it.”
“I’m trying to fix things.”

“You don’t get it!  I don’t know if to hate you for what you’ve risked or hate you for thinking you can fix it!” She was standing now, vibrating with righteous anger.  

“What happened to you, Luna?” His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it held the weight of everything he witnessed.

“You came out of nowhere and expect me to take you in?”

“Rain does.  Stallion has. That first night I met you, I thought I was going to be mugged or killed.  They gave me a chance.  Now, Mr Giovanni has cut me down for what I did. Why can’t…”

“You don’t get it!  I wanted to cut you down!  That night! It took everything within me not to attack you! Still do!”

“I know.” Izac said with compassion so strong it cut through Luna’s anger, “Is it the…” He pointed to his chest.

“Around you, it makes me…agitated.” She replied, calmer now that she’d finally been able to express the struggle she’d felt for weeks.

“Yeah, I know why,” Izac said, reaching out to her. “Can I show you?”

Luna stared at the hand for a long moment before reaching out and taking it. Suddenly, the voice was …muffled…shoved into a box where its influence was little more than a mumble. Her head was clear, and she was free to…think for herself.  She didn’t take her hand back. 

At that moment, Stallion barged into the room, oblivious.  The two hands dropped.

“There you are. I wanted to talk to you about the Thaumaturgy book…”

“So, not the Latin one, then?” Luna returned to her chair and book, her sarcasm back in place.

“Of course, I’m Australian. We speak English…not wherever Latin…is.” He snarked back, grabbing his book and flicking through the pages. 

Luna barked one of her sarcastic coughs, “So you’ve read a book, and now you think you can do magic?’

“Look, I don’t understand most of it, but there are some rituals here…maybe we can pull some off.”

“Stick to bludgeoning things over the head, Stallion, that’s what you’re good at.  Leave the thinking to the rest of us.”

After more than a month of trading snipes and verbal jabs, that jibe was Stallion’s last straw. 

“Apologise for demeaning me, Luna.” He flexed, the young dog standing up to the pack’s Alpha female.

“What? For saying the truth?” 

“Apologise!” He repeated, looming over her. She stared back at him in defiance.

“Hey!  Aren’t we all one team?” Izac interjected, breaking their eyelines.  

“Oh yeah,” Luna said, “We’re a team, alright.”

“So, Luna…” Mr Giovanni entered the room.

“Oh God, he’s here!” Izac backed into a bookshelf.

Stallion slumped back to his usual posture and thumbed his book.

Luna continued to read her book.

Mr Giovanni took a moment to view the tableau before continuing.

“Have you found any more useful way to distract our Mind Mage in their own realm?”

“We have overwhelmed their senses, messing with their concentration…” Izac listed off, but it was much the same as what Mr Giovaelf had shared the night before.

“Anything more concrete?”

“Distract them from their sense of reality?”

“Drugs?  Interesting. Let’s work on that for a while, shall we?”

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

I spent the light rail trip back home praying to empty air that the dog hadn’t stalked and eaten Lenny. I ran from the station to the house, glad, for once, that breathing wasn’t required. When I arrived, the house was quiet, and I quickly found the dog sleeping in Slobber’s bed in the kitchen.  

“Can I have a word with you?” It was awake, just ignoring me.  

I sat down on the kitchen tiles in front of the dog bed.

“I know you’re awake, and I know you can speak. I heard you talking to Stallion.  I’m Rain, and this is my place. You are safe here. You do not need to fear me.”

Without lifting its head, I heard a voice clear and only slightly slurred by a dog’s muzzle and long tongue.

“Help me.”

“How can I help you?”

“Kill me.”

Sure.  Let’s stab and drain another dog. Another trip out to the Royal, or maybe just bury this one in the backyard? Oh boy, wouldn’t that have driven the nail into my literal coffin with Mr Giovanni.   I nearly laughed. I could have wept. I did neither.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. There are many reasons why I can’t,” I felt like such a shit. “You do have a place here that I can give. Do you have a name?  One you’d prefer?”
“My name is Blanco Falzo.”

“Thank you, Blanco. Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Besides killing me?”

“Besides that.”

“Can you find my family?  Tell them…I miss them.”

A family. If I weren’t rational and thought everything was about me, I’d think this would be a pretty good way for Mr Giovanni to get back for disrespecting him.  Giving Stallion what he wanted, maybe clearing away a pesky kine and punishing me? That’s a rational mind at work. A family. A problem for another day.

I finally left Falzo to his dreams of being a man and knocked on Lenny’s door.

“What the ever-living-fuck, Rain?! Talking dogs!” he said as I sat in his studio, surrounded by his vibrant work.  This had been our dream:  to get off the streets, get him cleaned up, and work on paintings people could admire, not whitewash. Until this point, I had protected him from the reality that made our dream possible. It was time he knew. 

I spent twenty minutes laying out the truth, or at least as much of it as I thought he could take. Vampires are real, and your best mate is one. Check!  Werewolves were real, too, as are mages. Check and Check! Talking dogs were just a part of this crazy world we now belonged to. 

“Mages…you mean like wizards?” He asked after calming down and finally listening to what I was saying.

“They tend to call them warlocks, but yeah.”

“And magic? It’s really real, not like your stuff.”   There had been nights when he couldn’t get a fix, and I’d sit up and distract him with illusions and stories of fictional magic users who could fly with a thought and raise people from the dead.  It had been our illusion, the one that made the bad nights bearable.

“Really real. Change the world type of shit.” I replied in all seriousness.

“And if it’s true, can I find magic?” 

I thought of Mr Giovanni’s library and the book that Stallion had found. If he could get something out of it, maybe there was something for Lenny. Maybe for both of us?

“Magic? Sure.”

I stood up to leave.  Falzo wasn’t a threat, just a caught-up in something bigger than himself. Lenny was fine and now knew a little more about what to expect around the house. 

“Ah, Rain, after all the crazy talking dog stuff, I feel a little…jittery.  Do you think I could have a drink?” 

It was the exact phrasing he’d used to justify his drug habit. Brendan, as usual, was right. 

“Sure.” I bit my wrist, and he took it happily. He drank, and I thought about magic like that of the Marauder.  To create a pocket world of your own that only you can control. A world that didn’t need drugs and was free of fear and the threat of being destroyed.  I distracted myself with illusions and stories as Lenny continued to feed a habit.  We’d come so far.  

I eventually had to pull away, and he stumbled happily to his bed, content and high. 

“Did I do the right thing, Lenny?” I asked as I saw the drug take him.

“You always do. You’re one of the good ones,” He replied, slowly fading from consciousness. 

Before returning to the bar, I went downstairs to the empty space that would one day be The Pit. I could see a blood splatter here and there. The space was already in use, if not finished. This would be a place to be proud of. This would be not just my dream but Luna’s and maybe even Izac’s. This would make a real start in this new world of ours. We were going to stake our claim. 

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

Plans were well underway in Mr Giovanni’s office. A tranquiliser gun and darts were being acquired, and bandoliers of flashbang and smoke grenades were made available for each team member. Discussions of what to say and how to behave in the pocket dimension were hashed through, as were what powers we could expect to see from someone who could create their own reality. All the while, Mr Giovanni was receiving updates from Guissepi about the alleyway.

“I can bring an animal.  It would make a good distraction,” Stallion suggested.

“What?  Slobbers?” Izac bawked at the suggestion.

“No, not my Slobbers,” Stallion grinned, “How attached are you to your alleycats?”

Now Izac did recoil, “Can’t you bring in a bat or something?”

“Sure, but cats are bigger, and if they’re already friendly, they’re more likely to do as we say.”

Mr Giovanni hung up his mobile and flipped to the messaging app, “Everyone.  The mage has company.”

“Who?” Luna asked, leaving the library to join the others.

“We’re just about to find out,” Mr Giovanni held the phone out for everyone to see. A message from Guissepi with an attached image appeared on the screen. Mr Giovanni tapped the message, and a grainy night image of two men in black suits appeared to hang around the entrance to the alleyway.

“It seems the Men in Black are involved.”

“So, we kill them as well,” Luna said matter-of-factly.

“Kill?  Can’t we just use flashbangs on them? They’re human’s, right?”

“No loose ends,” Luna replied coolly. There were no more discussions about the  Men in Black.

“I…have to got to feed the cats.” Izac gave an excuse and left. Stallion went back to contemplating the use of animals and Luna to her book.  Mr Giovanni sent me a text message.

NEW DEVELOPMENT.  COME TALK TO US AT THE BAR.

10 pm 8 hours before dawn

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

What Luna felt:

“Are you alright?”
It was almost laughable. What right did he have? Already lamented the mess he’s made for
others. Already brushing away the forgotten dirt she can still feel beneath her fingernails.
“I need you to define ‘alright’.” She wasn’t being cheeky. ‘Alright’ had no defined parameters
in English. It could mean a multitude of things and the possibility of Izac and her sharing the
same one was near impossible. And truly? She wanted him to shut up as her eyes scanned the
wall of spines.
“Why are you so full of hate?”
She could almost bark with laughter… or was it disbelief?
‘Why’ is a question men have pondered since the creation of the polis. She would wager
even longer than that. But her searching hand faltered and the titles began to mix.
Sure, the situation with Stallion was a legitimate reason. Though, why before that?
“You’re not worth the risk!” She can feel the cracks of the mask forming. Women don’t yell. It
was untoward what was expected of her. Truly, she wasn’t yelling.
It wasn’t worth the risk to break the whole masquerade for a man they had recently met. She
can still see the cops’ faces. She can still hear their voices.
That fear quickly gives way to anger. That’s the easy route, right? Don’t sit with your
emotions long enough to let them explain what they truly are.
“One does not equal the cost of three.” She reasoned with herself.
No. No! She’s going about this all wrong. She can tell by the look in his eyes, even he can
see something is askew.
Why why why why why why
“I can tell that you’re trying,” because he was. Stumbling, folding himself to correct his own
stupid decisions, “no matter your mistakes and your shortcomings you are still trying.” Why did
that make her upset? Mad was too shallow of a word for the feeling in her chest. “I don’t know if
I should hate you or not for it.”
Her reverse, right? The same coin. He tries and tries and fails but continues. He can
overcome his designed nature and set boundaries even if they are flimsy.
How come he can try and fail and continue but there’s always something wrong with her?
1 + 1 does not equal 1.
Until it does.
She had to tighten her jaw to keep it from opening. It was always another voice. A voice of
knowledge, a voice of a Beast, a voice of a Lord. Never her own.
When was the last time she pondered mathematical concepts?
A while.
A part of her coin. She hadn’t realised it, the density of the metaphor she created.
English wasn’t her strong suit anyway.
“I am trying,” he was stern now. Did he understand the storm laying just behind her eyes?
“I know.” She agrees because only an idiot would disagree to factual evidence.
“Do you know what I thought when we met?” A legitimate question. He understood by her
look to continue.
“I thought Stallion and Rain were going to slaughter me.”
“I wanted to slaughter you.”
Wait.
“But you didn’t.”
“I…” English was slipping from her mind, “I need to be more than my Beast.” It’s the truth.
She would slice her wrists and paint the words onto the wall to prove it.
I am more than my beast, echoed a mocking voice.
Nothing she has done attests to it. It says drink and she drains, it says attack and she fights
against it until it shows again and again that she’s weak.
Izac holds out his hand.
She’s back on the dock. She can feel the beast slipping through wanting to dominate a
stranger. Now he sits here and she’s been attacking him with words.
She touches his hand. Something she refused in the past.
Silent. Hauntingly quiet.
How long has it been since it’s been her own voice in her head?
A year.

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

Izac’s Scrawlings:

A target is on my back, and an immortal memory is long.  Giovanni has informed me of the traditions and their consequences.  I lived as human easily enough before now, the nightshift worker who didn’t eat.  Now I’m embroiled in the kindred society its all become so much more difficult. I lied to the Prince’s face, and I am not convinced he believed the ruse.  I live now with my head on a swivel waiting for someone to jump me because I’m a subject of a blood hunt.

Stop, breathe, try again…

I should’ve resisted Giovanni on his sadistic plan to get the dog. Though he wasn’t clear on what he was planning, that malevolent grin spoke volumes. Slobbers is back, far more obedient than before and far more human as well. A person contorted and crushed into the facade of a dog…every ounce of me wants to bring them peace,  it’s what I should do. I can’t stand back. I have to relieve them and stake him through his rott…Stop…Again…

Golconda…a word I’ve heard before but never understood.  Despite being a sadist, Giovanni’s library houses some books that talk of redemption and salvation.  “The blessing of the angels” a means to leave vampirism behind.  Time.  Lots of it is required and even then it is not guaranteed.  One chance for deliverance…I can only try, right?  As an immortal group of beings, why is this not the normal way? Is it the nature of the majority of kindred to be self-serving or is that humanity in general? Perhaps we hold onto more than we care to admit when we are brought into this nocturnal new world. Our emotions, our desires and dreams, all of that stays.  Is it just time that we truly lose?

Rain…With the info I had received from my clandestine meeting with Giovanni, I felt it necessary to give Rain some sort of clarification to his position in Giovanni’s eyes.  It’s not like the old man told me to keep it secret or anything.  I only saw one instance of the traditions broken by Rain, albeit sparked by my actions.  I felt obliged to let him know the razor edge he walked.  Giovanni is allowing him a chance.  I worry that the lesson will not be heeded in a moment of weakness.

Luna…All that rage and animosity.  How long has she been this way?  I want to know the Luna within that is stronger than I ever was…

I asked, and we argued.

“I can tell you’re trying…and I don’t know if I hate you for it or not.” I didn’t know what to say to that. 

“I wanted to slaughter you…still do.” I don’t blame her.  I risked a lot in hindsight, and it would be only fair.

“Why are you so sincere?”

I held my hand out.  I wanted to show her a different way, a way through her rage.  I could feel the beast screaming in protest a she reached out and held my hand.  The moment of contact, I felt the Beast slink back to the deep.  The silence was almost deafening. I felt relieved, I felt…happy.  Was this how it was for you when you found me again?

If only you found me in this state: a soul battling for control and not a slave to its whims.  I don’t know if she is open to another way,  but I will leave that door open for her if she chooses.  

“This is why, because I don’t have to listen to it anymore” I remember you saying…

“To those in the dark, offer a hand to guide the way.”

“You’ll always be afraid if you don’t try anything new.” Stallion to Luna.

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

Stallions doings:

The night before receiving Slobbers*

_______________________________________________

Stallion flipped through the book he had traded with Luna, trying to solve a mystery that just might be on the edge of breaking his own reality.

Magic, huh? This is not as straightforward as I hoped it was going to be. Taken in by this group and forced to do a hit job on another crazy person. This underground mafia shit sure has a lot of set-up to continue living like they do, but at the price that these mutations have, why not? Heck, it has even made me more tough when it comes to pain, might as well take advantage of it.

As these thoughts crossed Stallion’s mind, he remembered his task, not being bothered to flip back to where he was last paying attention to his reading. He kept on noting down some things in his mind that he could barely understand.

There are several paths to thaumaturgy. Stallion couldn’t understand them all at this time, but he got the idea of some of them.

Green path

Path of Blood

Hands of Destruction

Lure of Flame

Alchemy

Gift of Morphious

Path of the Father’s Vengeance

Path of the Levin Bolt

Vine of Dionysus

Countermagic & Dark Thaumaturgy

These last two have certain connotations, and Tremere likes to keep their secrets, apparently. Given the nature of Tremere, it seems odd enough that Giovani had this book. Given the connotations, this would put a target on his back, so this must not go outside at all.

If a person were to use Countermagic against a Tremere’s Thaumaturgy, that would cause a special sort of blood hunt all on its own, and the Dark Thaumaturgy dealt with devils.

I’m not much of a churchy, but you would have to be out of your mind or really desperate to deal with devils. Come to think of it, a succubus is a type of devil. I hope I don’t have to deal with whatever the furry equivalent of a devil is. Probably more mutants that are sexy, sexy lingerie, I guess.

Alchemy seems good. If I could turn stuff into gold, I would be making a bank, and heck, I could use it for other stuff as well. Rain might like this; he could use it for his magic tricks. It would be hard to imagine someone not abusing this.

This Lure of Flame is about fire, right? Fuckin’ wizards, how would I protect myself from this? Maybe I should wear a trench coat. If a fireball does come my way, the coat will catch the flame, but then I can abandon it or use it to put out flames. It seems like a good enough idea for now.

Some other stuff here that I wouldn’t mind learning, but why bother if magic might not be real. I guess I’ll find out when I fight this mother fucking wizard. Wait, do my mutant powers count as magic? Argh, too much of this. Maybe I should follow up on Boofhead, it has been a while.

As Stallion set off to make a few inquiries, he got a trench coat from the lost and found that nobody claimed & set off on an investigation to get to the bottom of this weird feeling he has had as of late. As Stallion got a bit more acquainted with Giuseppe than Bruce, he gave him a call first. Unfortunately there were no promising results with Boofhead, still missing. Next was Bruce and as Bruce said before that he had left the dog at the bug insecticide place.

To avoid being traced back, Stallion remembered that there were free public-use phones that anyone could use. It was perfect for anonymous calls. After passing off quite well as a reporter trying to follow up on a story, Stallion did learn that Boofhead had been moved to a vet. The vet mentioned that a man called Harold Woodman has the dog that Stallion described and that he makes a visit once a month. Stallion did recall that Dominic did warn him that he was around and that he should be avoided. Once a month, surely the man either had his own mansion or that he had his own plans with the dogs. The vet was all standoffish when it came to him as to give the impression that Woodman was someone that nobody really wanted to deal with. Stallion was not just worried about Boofhead but all the other dogs beforehand. Stallion went back home to do some research, maybe there was something public about this cop.

DISTRICT IN MOURNING: BURNED-OUT COP SHOOTS CHILD

11 DEAD IN A BLOODY SHOOT-OUT IN MARTINAISE

POLICE OFFICER RESPONSIBLE FOR SUICIDE OF SUSPECT

More of an investigation seems justified, but Stallion has been warned. A view from afar would be a beginning but this would have to wait after the warlock. Don’t want to end up on Dominic’s or the Prince’s plate.

With all this in mind Stallion needed to clear his head, he needed to feel the cold rush of air brushing past his body. It was time to take the first few steps to achieve a dream that seemed out of reach before this newfound resilience from injury. Looking online there was a reasonably priced dirt bike, a 2000 Pit Bike 250cc was on offer. Just to get this quickly and quietly done without leaving too many footprints, Stallion asked for Dominic’s Ute, paid in cash & left without an incident. A simple transaction where NOTHING more happened. Maybe, just maybe, Stallion could be like The Stig from Top Gear.

*Unknown to Stallion, this Slobbers did look like a man at one point.

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

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.

2.45 am 3 hours until sunrise

Stallion took himself to the basement to sleep. Mr Giovanni and Izac were long gone somewhere, hopefully, to find an appropriate replacement for the perfectly good dog we’d killed that night. Luna and I were alone in the library, and she was looking at me oddly.

“What?”

“We need to talk.”

“Okay,” I sat down on the edge of the table, “What’s up?”

“Not here.  I don’t know who could be listening here.”

We’d just spent several hours secretly plotting in this library. Now it was a concern?  It wasn’t hard to tell she didn’t want one or all of our coterie to hear.

“We could take a car.  Go for a ride around town,” I suggested.  

“Yeah, that seems okay.” She nodded and we went into the office in search of keys.  

Mr Giovanni’s organisation has a number of excellent vehicles, all black, all built to go unnoticed in the streets of Sydney—except one. He never referred to it, and I’d never seen him take it out, but in the garage under the bar was an early 1960s Ferrari in high-gloss black. Now tell me, if you were in my position, you wouldn’t at least take it for a slow drive around the block?  Unfortunately, she purred like a Volkswagen, and Sydney’s ill-kept roads were ruinous to the sport suspension, but we looked good. 

“I wonder what Mr Giovanni will think when he finds out we were out his this beauty?” I mused as we cruised down Victoria Street, heading west.

“Well, I’m not going to tell him,” Luna replied as the night lights blurred passed her passenger window.

“Then neither will I.”

Silence. The car puttered along, cutting a figure through the strip shopping districts and old suburbia.  This was Luna’s show.  I was happy to share this moment with her.  

“Why did you lie?” She asked out of the blue, and I almost asked, ‘Which time?’ but I knew when. I’d not told the whole truth on a few occasions, even kept many things secret, but there was only one time that we both knew I’d lied and when she’d been most vulnerable.

“I’m afraid you took me by surprise, “ I laughed self-consciously.  She didn’t laugh in reply.

“Look, I didn’t strictly lie. I really would hate to lose you.  It just wasn’t the most accurate answer.”

“Why?” She repeated. 

At this moment, I seriously reconsidered being responsible for the boss’s black sports car in the middle of the night. 

“I…I’m afraid, “ I admitted, feeling my hands tense on the steering wheel, “I’m always afraid.  And if it’s between a dog and one of us, me…”

She nodded quietly, ”You do a good job hiding it.” 

“Too many years of practice, “ I accepted the compliment.

“What about the deal made?” She changed the subject, at least shifted it off me.

“Deal?  What, the one Izac said he had with Mr Giovanni?  Well, Izac isn’t doing too well out of it.”

“I meant in relation to Stallion.”
I almost wish I’d buried poor Stallion and let Boofhead wander Sydney pining for his lost master.  

“We messed him up.”

“What about the deal made behind closed doors?  Not telling the truth even after the fact.”

The latter surprised me. It seemed it had been Izac’s plan to be honest from the beginning. Let Stallion in on what needed to be done, make it plain it wasn’t on him to clean up the mess, but it was going to be cleaned up. Somehow, his plans never survived contact with the enemy. 

The former I had an answer for.

“When we went to see the Prince in the Concert hall, do you remember the group of seats behind the stage that were in darkness?”

She nodded. It had truly only been a few hours ago.

“Six auras sat in that darkness. Some were calm, pale blue, and others bitter brown. The more we do in the world, the more people will be hiding in dark corners, talking about us and plotting. It’s unfortunate that two of our members felt they needed to make this deal because of Stallion’s obsession. 

She digested that for a while.  When her next question came, I nearly forgot to stop at traffic lights.  

“The watch.  You made a deal with it, didn’t you?”

The Ferrari was not the best location for this chat.  While we idled at the lights, I took the watch from my pocket and placed it on the black leather dashboard between us. 

“What makes you say that?”

“I know you.  You’re too curious.  You can’t leave anything alone.”

“I….was curious, “She did know me, “…as to why you were so afraid of the being inside.”
“Learn anything?”

“I didn’t need to talk to the being to find out it was a demon, and a powerful one at that. My beast told me that much.  Yours too?”

She nodded, “What did you make a deal for?”

Luna had been tightening the noose on this question all ride.  

“I can’t answer that,” I said without my usual carefree attitude. I had to get off the road and started looking for a parking spot, “There are other people involved and it is not mine to share.”

“Who?”  She asked, and Avel’s sorrowful face sprung to mind.  

“Someone very dear to me.” A parking spot beside a parkland dark and empty as my eyes began to sting. My vision blurred and turned red.

“And they’re dead.” She said with such certainty.  Tears rolled down my face, and when I wiped them away, my hand came away smeared in blood.  Crying blood.  What else was I going to discover about myself tonight? I pulled out a handkerchief, a red one that only reminded me of Avel’s.  If I’d wanted to answer Luna’s question, I couldn’t. There were no words.  I nodded instead. 

“The demon has asked for a body, hasn’t it?”

I couldn’t answer that either.  It was too close to the deal I’d made for Beelzebub’s name. I reached for the watch and opened it allowing the gem to twinkle dully in the street lights. 

Yes, what can I do this evening? His voice came, scratching in the back of my mind. 

Does she have permission? I know you’ve spoken before.  You want her help.

Permission to know what?

She’s asked about you having a body.  Do you give her permission to know?

No. 

I was screwed.  Luna had more than shown she could read between the lines.  If I went back and said I couldn’t tell her, she’d know for sure.  I said as much to Beelzebub.

Tell her, ‘In a sense,’ and if she wishes to know more, she knows what she can do.

I nearly threw the watch back on the dashboard.  Instead, I sighed and placed it back where we both could see it and stared at the steering wheel. 

“I am told to say, ‘In a sense.’ And if you want to know more, you know what to do,” If I felt dirty after Slobbers, now I felt like dirt.  

“Look, you know more about this stuff than me and I don’t know your past, what you come from, but you don’t have to do this.”

She coughed one of her sad, bitter laughs, “I made a deal before.  Look what it got me. That time, it wasn’t a devil, though.”

“Your sire?”

“Hm-hmm,” She nodded and took the watch from the dashboard.

Hello again.  How can I assist you?

I want to know about your deal with Rain.

It’s not a crime, is it?  Are you jealous?

No. I want knowledge.

Of what?

The…power you gave me…it incredibly powerful.

To some.

Devils in the detail, right? Devil’s in the stone.  Who are you?

What can you offer?

What? You want my soul?

No.  You don’t have that anymore.

Well, what can I give?

Faith.

You sound like my mother. What, faith in you?  Faith in your power?

To use it too.  Where it’s needed.  In public, where others can see…and believe.

So, use your power and spread your word?

Not exactly my word.  Let them know there’s another way.  A choice denied.

You have my attention. 

I am Beelzebub, Lord of flies, House of Devourers, Angel of the Wilds, House of Bone and Blood, The Sixth House, One of the Alabaster Legion and one of the Lords of Hell, second to Azazel, second to Satan himself. 

How did you end up in a stone?

A convenient way out.

Of eternal damnation?

No.  Eternal rejection is more honest. 

In a stone?

It was better than some alternatives.

Than what?  

Plans, buildings, books, people…

Now, you want out of eternity?

There’s no hope of that.  I’m looking for…closure.

What would a fallen Seraphim want with closure?

Indeed.  You can’t see beyond the veil.  You see water, I see atoms, the names of things woven in the stream.

You want enlightenment?

More like understanding. We see things differently.  You cry after a life that will never end.  I can’t imagine anything but eternity.  We can’t see each other. The parts required aren’t there.  This is where you are useful to me.  You can assist Rain in his task.

Help Rain.  Okay.  Do you want me to hand you back to him?

No, you can tell him.  It’s more important that way.

She put down the watch again, just as I had a moment before.  She’d gone only a few seconds, but something had changed.

“You know he doesn’t know everything.  He didn’t know who the false flower was….”  It had been such a night of revelations I’d assumed that had been shared as well.  But it, couldn’t have been, remembering who had given me that warning. “No…I didn’t tell you about that.”

“Not as omniscient as he’d like us to believe, huh? Anyway, I’m here to assist you,” she replied matter-of-factly.

I nodded, thankful I didn’t need to hide such a momentus task from her.  I tapped once more into the watch.

You have an assistant.

I’m glad.  I don’t think I could have hidden it from her anyway.  

Finally, the deeds done and plans made, I returned the watch to my pocket and turned in my seat dreading what was coming next.

“You want to know who I’m doing this for?  It’s a long story. How far back do you want me to go?”

Luna settled back in her seat.  I think she felt the same.  We’d made our beds, like it or not. Now together we were bound to see it finished. 

“As far back as you’ll tell me.”

I took a breath.  And started.

“What I am telling you only three other people besides yourself know.  The Prince has guessed some, but not all.  You will be the fourth I have ever shared this story with. “

“I was born in Bosnia, Eastern Europe, about 1990. I don’t know when exactly. My parents…were Bosniaks, a Muslim minority in the mostly Eastern Orthodox or Roman Catholic country. I never knew my Father’s name.”

“The President of Serbia, in his power and wisdom, decided to annex their neighbour Bosnia, “…for all Serbs.”  He sent his Serbian armies across the border and started taking cities.”

“In response, the UN sent peacekeepers.  A group of Dutch soldiers went to Srebrenica to help keep the civilians safe from the Serbian army.  They even set up a cordon. But, when the Serbian army arrived….they …let them in.”

“The army was only interested in the Bosniaks.  They separated the men from their families, did what they liked to the women and then…marched the men out of town…to pits.  There was a small boy with his father. What he was doing there amongst the older boys and men…we’ll never know. He was there when…they reached the pits… and the automatic gunfire rattled through the morning air. He felt the bullets hit his father’s body…felt his father’s grasp on him, on life… slip.  They fell into the pit. He felt the weight of the bodies as they fell on top of him.”

“Why the pit wasn’t closed…another mystery.  But when a group of Dutch Peacekeepers found it later that day, they were drawn to the sound of a child crying.  One, his name was Tobias, crawled across the bodies to find the crying boy.”

“The miracle boy. They called him Tobias for the soldier and Cudo for the word for ‘miracle’ in Bosnian. They took him with them.  He was eventually transferred to The Netherlands and then England. He grew up in foster care, picking up new family wherever he went.  And that was his life. A few years ago, he worked with a group of …gifted people. They travelled not around the world…but to wondrous places.  One of them was where he met a spirit named Avel. She asked for safety, a place to hide, and he freely gave it…gave his body as her safe place.  It wasn’t until later, when he returned home, that he realised who Avel was. It was his mother, her spirit who had followed him throughout  his life,  had taken her chance to be known by him in that strange land.“

I paused.  It had been easier to tell the tale as a dispassionate narrator.  But we’d reach the present, and there was no longer any putting it off.

“I’m no longer sure how much choice I had when Garcia asked if I wanted to become…kin. But if I’d known she was still with me, still watching over me, I would have tried very hard to say no.  She’s…been through too much to be trapped forever in a…half-life.  He, “ I gestured to my pocket, “Has offered her a chance, and she wants to take it.  What sort of son would I be if I didn’t at least try to..give Avel…the life…she deserves.”  

We were silent for a long time in that beautiful car, by the side of the road, the morning only a few hours away.

“Have you always been this selfish?” Luna asked eventually and made me laugh.

“I never had anything to live for but myself…until her…so yes, I have always been this selfish.”

Luna laughed out loud, and the heaviness of the story, the weight of it lifted from me.

“Anyway, now you know almost everything.  It was Avel who told me about the false flower.  ‘Beware the false flower’.  I don’t know who she’s referring to.  Garcia? Well, he’s gone.  The Prince?  He’s a diablerist.  I guess it’s not a surprise.  He’s lived such a long time…”

“How do you know the Prince is a diablerist?”  She interrupted.

“When I see the auras, sometimes there are other things.  Black veins through the aura. I saw them first on the Prince but didn’t see them manifest until Stallion…finished that job the night of Elysium.  Then, I saw the veins spider through his aura, too.  I was worried at the time it meant the mad one had…taken over Stallion. It will be good to get your opinion on this.  For the past six weeks, these things have circled round and around in my head, going nowhere.”

“After that, “ Luna reached around her neck and pulled the necklace that always hung there over her head, “It seems only fair to share.”  She reached out her hand with the pendant in it, gesturing for me to open mine.  She placed the crescent moon pendant in it, only this time flipped over,  a name engraved into the metal.

Eclipse Pallatou. It was like meeting her all over again. Silently, I handed back the pendant and took her free hand in mine. One by one, I wrote four letters on her palm with my finger.

A M I R.

She smiled.  A warm, genuine smile. She replaced her necklace and finally turned herself in her seat.

“The deal I made was with my vampire sire.  I wanted a new life, new name. She promised me the world, and then she took it all away.”

It reminded me of Garcia and his proposal to make me the ‘…best I could be and capture that talent forever.’  He’d said I was special.  Boy, what a mark I was.

“I don’t comprehend why, after all the effort they put into persuading us to this life, they just … left us in the sand.”

“I believe we’re test subjects.  They’re trying something new, and we’re the guinea pigs.”

“Well, either guinea pigs or forgotten children, if this life of mine has taught me anything, it’s that while we can still act in the world, there is hope. We know we are survivors because we’ve done it before. I also know that nothing great is won unless you gamble great!”

“Hmmm, on the cusp, the moment before a great win or lose…” She mused, and in that moment, I knew exactly what she meant. 

“So, we make deals—with vampires, demons, whoever. We do favours for favours and…do the best we can. But I think together, we can do it better than alone.”

“I just wanted a new name. I killed her,” Luna placed her hand over the pendant, eclipsing the moon, “Just to get away and start again.”

“She was just who you were, where we’ve been. They are not who we are now or who we will be.”

4.45 am 1 hour until sunrise

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

Aura colours and their meanings (a work in progress)

Black: darkness, often veins or vines. Diablerist.

Brown: bitter

Dark Blue: 

Dark Green: Envy

Dark Red: Lust, passion

Gold: Spiritual

Grey: Depression

Light blue: Calm

Light green: Distrustful

Orange: Anxious

Pink: Compassionate

Purple: Aggressive

Red: Anger

Rose:

Silver: Sad

TV static: agitated

Vermillion: Pleasure, happiness.

Violet: Excited

White: Innocence, Earnest

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. 

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

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.

10.50 pm 6 hours until sunrise

The car ride back to Sydney was silent.  Luna looked angry, as usual. Izac was depressed, and I felt… dirty.  I kept brushing off the knees of my clean trousers, feeling dead twigs down my collar, though there were none there.  The only one in the whole car who seemed satisfied (self-satisfied) with the whole night’s work was Mr Giovanni.  He seemed to revel in the schadenfreude.  So, when his phone rang, I jumped, Luna growled something intelligible, and Izac somehow became more miserable, but Mr Giovanni, a bright note in his voice, answered without a care in the world.

“Yes?”

“I hope we haven’t caught you at a bad time,”  I knew that turn of phrase well.

“Not at all, My Prince. What can I do for you?” Mr Giovanni assured him, keeping his urbane swagger intact.

“We have a small task. Come and see us at your convenience.  As soon as possible.”
“We will be a couple of hours.” There was a click on the other end of the line, and Mr Giovanni texted Guissepi.

BRING THE PUP TO PRINCE SARASINE’S CURRENT RESIDENCE.

“Izac, I don’t believe you’ve ever met the Prince,” he said, turning in his seat to face Izac, who was driving.

“No.  I haven’t.” 

Mr Giovanni programmed the directions into the car’s navigation.

“Talk to the lovely Rain about etiquette.”

If I didn’t feel dirty before, I did now.  I was in what I considered my work clothes, the purple suit. Luna and Izac, who had dug the majority of the hole, were in worse condition. 

“We’re seeing the Prince like this?”

“It’s not Elysium, Rain.” Mr Giovanni was in an excellent mood.

“Okay…” I made a note to check everyone before we met the Prince and thought of advice for the clueless Izac, “Well, be polite.  He is a Prince, royal ‘We’ and all, so if you speak to him, use his title.  A bow wouldn’t be out of place.  Um…don’t threaten him with a broomstick.”

“Our Rain is forgetting the most important thing,” Mr Giovanni added, “One of our great traditions.  Present yourself.”

Well, yes. We’re doing that. 

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

Across town, Stallion and Guissepi were revelling.  Having fed on an obliging streetwalker, they were now at a loose end. Stallion was feeling good.  Currently satisfied and riding high on something akin to adrenaline, he was looking for companionship to share it with.

“You know the others should be in on this,” He said to Guissepi as they returned to the car.

“This is your night, friend. What do you want to do?”

“Any bands playing tonight?  Any parties to go to?”

“Hmmm, what first, music or appetisers?” He asked with a grin that almost stretched from ear to ear.

“Appetisers sounds appealing,” Stallion grinned back, and they set off for another undisclosed destination.

Down back streets and sets of stairs leading well below street level, they passed curious bouncers with a wave of Guissepi’s hand.  A dark room, smoky and mysterious, lay before them.  Around the walls, dozens of doors suggested random delights.  

“Ur…which door?” Stallion asked, looking around the room.  Every door seemed the same, with no sign or markings to hint at what was beyond.

“You never know what you’re going to get.  That’s the fun.”

Stallion had to admit that it did sound like fun. He chose a door. Guissepi took the door next to his and opened it.  A soft whimper issued from the room until it was cut short by the closing door.  Stallion opened his door and stepped inside. 

It was dark, but even that didn’t stop Stallion from sensing the dozens of people hanging…perched?…  around the walls of this room. In the centre, a single chair. Stallion took the seat and sat down. Though features were unintelligible in the gloom, he could feel them watching him…waiting.  

“So, what are we doing in here?” He asked the collected silence.

“Take it off,”  said the room.

Having performed once already that night naked, Stallion shrugged and stripped down, leaving only his socks. 

“Dance.”

“Any music?” He asked. It didn’t seem right to dance without music.

“Dance, fool!”

“Say, what sort of room is this?”  Stallion didn’t mind getting his kit off, but flailing around like a drunk monkey in a cage wasn’t his scene.  No answer.

“Alright, what about a dance-off?” If he were going to look an idiot, he’d prefer not to be alone.

His only reply was scoffs and sniggering.

He began dancing.  This wasn’t what he’d come down here for. Where was the fun, the sport, in this? His lousy mood influenced his dancing, which was lacklustre and poorly timed.  Sniggers turned the giggles. Scoffs to jeers.  

He was about fed up and ready to go when the door opened, and Guissepi stood, half-dress and stained with blood, awkwardly staring in. 

“Joining me in here?” Stallion asked with some hope.  Guiseppi shook his head.

“Get your clothes on. We’ve got to go.” He said without explanation.  

Stallion dressed quickly, not sorry to see the back of his room’s ‘entertainment’.  They were back on the street and starting the car before Guissepi spoke again.

“Sorry, the entertainment had to be cut short. Uncle wants you.”
“Wasn’t really into my room anyway,” Stallion confessed, glad to be back on the road.

“No, best not to go into the Humble Bundle.  You would have preferred my room.”

“So what does Mr G. want me for?”
“You’re going to see the Prince.”

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

Sydney is a business town and closes sometime after eight o’clock most work nights. Though depressing for those who try to make a living in entertainment, it does mean the streets are quiet. We coasted down Macquarie Street, funnelled between the old golden sandstone buildings and the new steel and glass to Circular Quay and the Opera House. 

 Macquarie Street ends in a pedestrian mall and a roundabout with a fountain.  Here, we were surprised and delighted by the sight of Stallion dancing for the tourists and residents out for an evening walk.  Stallion does move to his own internal music.  His body snaked and strutted to rhythms unheard by everyone else.  But tonight, clothes dishevelled, half his face cut open, he somehow shared that music with everyone present.  People stood around cheering and throwing money. Some even joined him in his silent gyrations. As Izac drove around the fountain heading for the underground parking, Luna rolled down the window on her side of the car and howled into the night.  Stallion’s head whipped around.  Like a dog hearing his master call, he forgot the crowd, picked up his take and joined us at the side of the road. 

“You’ve been ages.  Where were you guys?” He asked, energy in his voice and gestures I’m not sure I’d ever seen from him.  Was Stallion…happy to see us?

“We took a short trip out to the countryside,” Mr Giovanni supplied smoothly, “Did you enjoy your night with Guissepi?”

“Yeah, the fight was alright,”

Fight?

“But you don’t want to pick the wrong door,” Stallion added, and I was left with the impression of some sort of physical farce fight running through swinging doors. 

“I can imagine,” Mr Giovanni nodded sagely.

“Hey, maybe next time you guys can come to the fight.  To watch obviously…”

Obviously.

“So…it was a sporting fight?” I took in the scrapes and bruises still blooming on his face.

“Something like that,” He replied vaguely.  

I looked over the group before we headed in to see the Prince.   I brushed a little dirt off Luna and sighed at Izac’s slouch and Stallion’s current appearance.  We were a motley group.

“Okay, well, just hold your heads up high,” I said with false cheeriness as Mr Giovanni started leading us to the Opera House.  

“Mr Giovanni, a word before we go in?” 

He obliged me without a word, and we stepped aside.

“Yes, what is it?’

“There hasn’t been a chance to apologise for how I treated you last night. I admit Izac threw me off with the whole gun thing, but I know I could have done better. I asked you to come, and then I yelled at you to leave, and for that, I am sorry.” There, I’d finally said it. Now, he could do his worst. He did. 

“We will discuss this later,” He walked back to the group and into the Opera House. 

 Oh God! Tell me that’s not going to bite me the arse down the line. 

Accepting, for now, I followed.

Like any theatre, the Opera House is a House for Rent, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the Prince would hire the space.  Still, it is the People’s House and one of two universally recognisable features of Sydney, if not Australia.  The gravitas of the setting made me turn on Auspex.  Silent guardians with serious auras guided our path to the Concert Hall, a large open stage surrounded by seating.  The Prince waited alone on the stage meant for a full orchestra, sitting on a richly stained wood and red velvet chair. 

The Prince’s black-veined aura surrounded him like a cloud. The same black veins I saw in Stallion’s aura marking them, I now knew,  as diablerists.  It was foolish to think the Prince hadn’t settled a dispute with diablerie in the past, but I still found the sight unsettling. My eyes were drawn to the seating above the stage.  The house lights for that part of the concert hall were off, and only darkness filled the seats.  Still, it didn’t hide the six cloudy auras ranging from light blue and calm to brown and bitter.  I forced myself to look away from those seats and glanced around the room. There were no other lights in sight.

“Prince Sarrasine,” Mr Giovanni announced, leading our small group across the stage.

“Yes,” The Prince replied drowsily, lost in his thoughts.  I wondered if the smoke that constantly wreathed him was more than just blood-tainted tobacco. It would be appropriate for the path.

“You asked for us,” Mr Giovanni qualified and seemed to focus the Prince’s thoughts.

“Yes, We did.  Your little coterie has grown since last we spoke,” The Prince’s eyes were hidden behind his usual sunglasses, though his head did tilt in Izac’s direction.  Izac, regardless of how much he wanted to run, held his ground under the inspection. On the other hand, Luna was on edge, almost ready to flee.  I sidled up beside her by way of encouragement. 

“I have the great pleasure of presenting to you, Izac, our latest member.” Mr Giovanni announced.

“Where did you find this new toy?” The Prince visibly sniffed the air, “He smells…different.  We are not familiar…”

“We stumbled across him one night while I was teaching my childe,” Waving his hand as if to brush away any confusion, Mr Giovanni spun his tale, “He is from out of town.”
“Caitiff?” The Prince enquired seriously.

“We are not sure.”

It’s true, I expected to work out Izac’s bloodline as I had Stallion’s and Luna’s but even after more than a week, he was still elusive. Another example of not asking the right questions?  My train of thought was broken by Izac stepping forward and bowing to the Prince.

“My Lord, I was abandoned by my sire. I was with them only a short time.  I do not know my heritage.”

“Who was your sire?”

Izac paused as if deciding what to tell the Prince.

“Come, come.  You said you were with them for some time, short though it may be.  Surely you knew their name?”

“I…knew them by many names.  I don’t know which one was true and which one a lie?”

“List a couple for Us, and perhaps We can tell the truth from the lie.”

Another pause.  He was hiding something, but there was nothing in his usually static aura to tell what.

“Phoebe…Kim…Jamie…”

The Prince, who had leaned forward at the hint of a mystery, now settled back into his chair unsatisfied.

“A bit unusual.”

“He’s a fledgling, little more than a few years old at most,” Mr Giovanni defended Izac, and I started to worry about whether presenting our unknown Izac to the Prince was such a good idea.

“Unless he’s lying.”

“Izac is not…a good liar.” I’m sure some would think that was a compliment.

The Prince sat on his throne and wreathed himself in smoke and contemplation.

“You’ve convinced us,” he pointed the hand perpetually holding a cigarette at Izac. We will make sure to keep an eye on you.”

The Prince’s eyes now scanned the rest of us, “And what of the rest of your wayward children,”  He glanced at Stallion, “Roughed up and getting rougher?”
“I was out for a night of consensual blood sport,” Stallion answered with pleasure.

“We like it better when it is not consensual but to each his own.” He turned to Luna, still vibrating so fast that she’d frozen into a statue.

“Little firebrand.  What worries you?”

“No worries, just thoughts,” She replied simply.

“Others thoughts?”

“Just my own.” What was going on inside her head?

“Tsk!  That pesky beast!” The Prince chided her.

“There’s always another voice.” She murmured so low that I didn’t know if anyone, apart from me, had picked it up. 

It seemed Mr Giovanni and I didn’t require any Princely comments as he quickly got to business.

“We have called you here in regards to a place that doesn’t respect the rules we have reinforced.”

“I’ve always said that your rule has always been generous,” Mr Giovanni said, and it is true; he does say that.  Though fawning doesn’t hurt either. 

“They are not our kind,” The Prince qualified, gaining a nod of understanding from Mr Giovanni.

“Which group?”

“Warlocks.  Dreamers.  The Awakened.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of orange fear flash through Izac’s aura.  Interesting. 

“We sent others to the location. They have yet to report back.”

So we were the B-team.  Great.

“We asked the usurpers and received a one-word reply: Marauder.”

I was a little lost here.  Clan Tremere are known as the usurpers.  Legends tell they stole their powers from another clan,  but I’d never heard of a Marauder.

“Necromancers?” Mr Giovanni qualified with enough seriousness that it was clear Marauders were no good.

“It seems not.  Marauders create and sustain pocket dimensions that follow their creator’s rules.”

Wow!  Real magic.  

He gave the address, a location off Little Hay Street in Haymarket.  Looking up the area on the ride back home revealed a dark alleyway illuminated by fluorescent kewpie dolls with targets on their chests. Are they advertising their presence?  

“And for this service, what payment?” Mt Giovanni, ever the man of business.

“Besides the privilege of serving Us?” The Prince smirked, toying with the serious businessman. 

“How about Stanmore?”

“If you can hold it, it shall be yours.”

Once more, he turned his attention to the rest of us, “Is there anything else We can do for you?”

Time to step up and get answers once and for all.

“My Prince, I have two things. Firstly, I have yet to find out who owns the Pyrmont domain.  I wish to introduce myself properly.”

He smirked, which I know means nothing with him, “We believe you already have.”

What does that mean? We’d only met the Nosferatu. Did they own Pyrmont?  Not the way they were behaving when Luna and I visited.  No one from Elysium came to mind. Did he own it? or was he cryptically saying we’re the owners?!

“And your second request?”

“I’d love for you to see what we’ve done with your boon,” Though the Pit was a work in progress, the house and gallery were ready, and I longed to show him that we hadn’t been sitting on our hands with his gift.

“When it’s finished, perhaps.” He replied.  Now, what did that mean?  Still, it wasn’t a no.

“Is there anything else?” This was more of a polite dismissal. I felt like pushing my luck and seeing where it would lead.

“My Prince, I would hear if you have any advice for this mission?” Mr Giovanni almost groaned beside me.

“There’s no reason to keep the Prince on something so trivial.” He bowed and turned to leave. Admonished, I followed suit, as did the others. A short while later, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Benefactor:  IF YOU SEE ANYONE IN BLACK SUITS ‘MAN IN BLACK’ OR THEY COME UP AND ASK QUESTIONS, TELL THEM YOU ARE “A PART OF THE LOCAL DIVISION”.  THAT TENDS TO WORK.

11.45 pm 5 hours until sunrise

With Mr Giovanni in a good mood, Stallion got the chance to drive us all back to the Crow bar.

On our return, we headed straight to the small private library and took it over.  Not knowing the first thing about the occult, I was pleased to find a graphic novel called Witchcraft and You: The modern age of Magic.  I flicked through it and found a seat beside Izac.  Stallion found a book in Latin.  The text was indecipherable to him, but the hand-drawn illuminations amused him until Luna saw the title.  She snatched it from his hands.
“The Great Houses,” She translated out loud.

“What’s your price for it?”

“What? You can’t read it,” She complained.

“Go on.  A peck on the cheek?” He said playfully.

“I will not!” She laughed in reply, throwing back his book. 

“At least let me read yours.  It’s in English.”

“You can read?” 

She’d already found a book on the subject, Thaumaturgical Counters,  and was looking forward to settling down and absorbing it. Reluctantly, mainly to shut him up, she swapped book. 

 Even Mr Giovanni found a useful tome, The Madness of the Awakened.  

Beside me, Izac seemed almost ready to explode.  

“Hey, do you want to step out for a breath of fresh air?  A steak, not a stake?”

“Sure,” he replied as if waiting for any excuse to leave. He bolted from the room, with me following along in his wake.

Later, I gleaned a few snippets from the others’ study.

From The Madness of the Awakened

• Insane mages that exist in perpetual quiet
• Marauders are the centre of their pocket dimension. – we will need to hunt them out
• As it is their mind that makes rules of the space confusing them and breaking their concentration are helpful tactics.
• Marauders in their space are scary – you don’t want to deal with them. 

From The Great Houses

• Various types of Mage:
  • Technocracy
  • Awakened
  • Nphandi – fallen mages
  • Orpheus – see the undead
  • Marauders – insane mages

From Thaumaturgical Counters

• Various Paths of Thaumaturgy:
  • Green path
  • Path of Blood
  • Hands of Destruction
  • Lure of flame
  • Dark Thaumaturgy – not recommended
  • Counter Magic

Sometime later, Luna also found a beaten-up paperback titled Penny Dreadful: A Mage. On the cover, a young woman with a cat stared back knowingly.

“When did you get that?” she asked Mr. Giovanni. The book seemed out of place among the serious tomes of esoterica.

“I really couldn’t tell you,” He drawled from behind his book, “I’ve been collecting for one hundred years.”

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

Meanwhile, I was watching Izac suck a steak.  I’d turned my Auspex on again and watched his anxious static calm to a low simmer, though it never seemed to go away.  He was always on edge.  Was it a result of almost a year alone or something we could deal with?

“Do you want some?” he asked, offering me another raw steak from the fridge. He’d taken my staring for a desire to join him. 

“Ah, no. On my first night, I had a similar response to a sliver of steak that you had to your cocktail. I’m afraid, as much as I may want to, I can’t follow your path.” I admitted with a shrug. 

“Oh,” He put the steak back in the fridge and continued to turn his pink. 

“Warlock, huh?” I said by way of preamble, “You know, I’ve been hunting real magic my whole life, never knowing there were such things as mages, warlocks, and marauders.” I watched his aura for any telltale signs, but it remained at the same calm simmer.

“Do you know anything about them?”

Izac shook his head and then shrugged apologetically, “ Only what they show on TV, you know Vampire diaries?”

He caught me contemplating the chance of writing up our adventures as some grand fiction as Dracula had with Bram Stoker. Find a young, brilliant, but underappreciated author, ghoul them and share the tale. 

“Say, what’s up with you and the smelly ones?”

“Smelly one?” 

“Yeah, the ones in the sewer?”

“The Nosferatu?”  Man, had that plan turned soured.  When we thought up the initial idea, we were going to have the favour of the whole Nosferatu clan.  Then I had to sell it to keep them quiet.  I didn’t mind too much.  I still felt we were going to build a lot of goodwill with the Pit, and it is a start, the first step in towards my dream of my own nightspot. Bringing colour to the night. 

“You heard the Prince tonight. They could be the ones running Pyrmont. I just wanted to make contact and earn a little goodwill with the locals. They wanted a place to hang out and eat.”

“Well, I’d like to help with it…if I can.  I’d like to help out.”

I brought my eyes back to him, taking in his self-deprecating half smile and genuine open expression, and  I understood again why he was the ‘good boy’.

“That’s very kind of you.  Frankly, we’ll need all the help we can get.”

After a night of high anxiety and Auspex, I was starting to feel the beast as well.  My own undead system was growling for sustenance, and I knew just where to get it.

“We’ll talk more about this later, but if we’re going after mad mages, I want a snack right now.”

With Izac following, I returned to the main room and scanned the floor for potentials.  From a life as an old con, I could pick a mark across a room.  I caught the eye of a young man in his mid-twenties.  By his auras, he was conservative but curious.  Curiosity was good.  He may just accept just to find out what I was offering.  The conservative would make him wary of accepting any offer that seemed too good to be true.  I made my way over to him. 

“Hi, I’m Rain. I’ve not seen you here before,”

“No, I’ve never found a reason to come in before,” He said politely.  Conservative. “I’m Pete.”

“Nice to meet you, Pete. I guess you’re no tourist, then. What brings you to the Crowbar tonight?”

“Oh, you know, any Port in a Storm. “ I could see he was uncomfortable being the centre of attention, so I pulled back a little.

“Yeah, it’s a quiet little place on a weeknight. I work here, so I pretty much see it in all its moods.”
“What is this place, then? A brothel?”

“A bit of this, a bit of that. It’s a place to get away for a while. I entertain the crowd, keep people happy, note the troublemakers for the bouncers, that sort of thing. I probably have one or two things I could show you.”
Interest.  The conservative streek diminished at the idea of what could be on offer.

“Oh?” With a boyish smirk, he said, “And what do you offer?”

“Whatever you like, for a kiss?” It was a gamble.  He was either going to punch me and leave or be mine.

“What, here?” He stepped in closer, looking around the room. Hooked.

“No, we have a small lounge downstairs.” I stepped in and was now almost whispering in his ear, “Dark, and private.”

“Yeah, “he said, as if it were his lucky night. “Yeah, I want it.”

Without a word, I led him downstairs.  Unknowst to me, Izac was watching the whole time. 

I let him choose one of the booths, comfortable and dark just as I’d said.  I let him sit, relaxing into his surroundings.

He’d given me permission and said yes, and it was all I needed.  As soon as he bent down to unbuckle his trousers, I crouched beside him and sunk my teeth into his neck.  There is subsistence, and then there is dining. I indulged in not just his blood but also his acceptance and trust.   He slumped forward, unconscious, onto the table.  I wiped the wound clean with a kiss and rested his head on his arms.  He’d come too, wonder what had happened and toddle home. As a cheeky afterthought, I opened his fly and laid him out.  Let him imagine he’d received his happy ending.

Izac went to feed the cats.  I understand he was getting a real following out near the dumpster.  Mr Giovanni was texting Bruce when he returned to the library.  

WHAT HAVE WE GOT IN THE WAY OF FIREWORKS?

“Izac,” Mr Giovanni stopped Izac as he entered. ” Did your previous sire tell you what you can do? What are your abilities?”

“Um…I’m pretty good at making stupid decisions,” Even he had to admit his good morals hadn’t helped him recently, “Are they still reading?” 

Luna and Stallion were engrossed in their respective books.

“Do you think I’d let us do such a dangerous mission without  being informed as to the best strategy?”
“Not after being yelled at, no.”

Mr Giovanni was soon back on his phone to Guissepi, “I have an opportunity for you to do some surveillance.  I’ll send you the address.  Two days, one night should suffice.”

I rolled in, satisfied as Mr Giovanni, Luna, and Stallion provided summaries from their readings.  

“Distraction and confusion seem to be our greatest assets.  Stallion, you wouldn’t happen to have one of those large portable sound systems?”
“A boom box? Sure, I…”  Stallion remembered his boom box, and every worldly possession went up in smoke.  That’s when thoughts of Slobbers rose up and gnawed away at my good vibe.  Damn this shit.  Damn Stallion for his obsession, and damn us too.

“Never mind, we’ll see if the boys can pick up one from a pawn shop in the next few days.”

“Yeah, one he knows how to use,” Luna chided, and my two siblings sneered playfully at each other.  

 Mr Giovanni turned his attention to me. “Rain, you will need you to leave your disdain for firearms behind.  On this mission, they may be vital.”

I winced.  It wasn’t an affectation or whim.  I didn’t have a moral objection to guns. It is a deep-seated fear that disregards my thoughts on the subject. I nodded anyway and noticed he seemed ready to break up the group.  

It was now or never.

“Mr Giovanni, don’t you think we should talk about the job we did earlier tonight?”  That brought down the mood in the room.  Izac was hiding in a corner, literally wedged in beside the filing cabinet.  Luna, who had been joking with Stallion just moments ago, now grew angry again, opening her book and hiding inside.  As in the forest, Mr Giovanni seemed almost ready to lean back and let us do the heavy lifting.  What had been the arrangement between him and Izac?

“Izac.  Do you want to take the lead on this one?” I asked him, and his eyes turned to Mr Giovanni.

“That for Mr Giovanni,” He said determined, as if this had been the plan all along.  He organised and did the deed, and Mr Giovanni cleaned up the mess.  

“Stallion, “ Mr Giovanni stepped back into the centre of the room and faced Stallion, whose bloodied and swollen face was currently the epitome of ignorance. I regret to inform you that Boofhead went missing.”

Boofhead? What?

That frisson of energy, the power of the will inside the sophisticated exterior of Mr Giovanni, once more enforced itself on Stallion, “FORGET.”

As before, Stallion’s eyes glazed over, but this time, there was conflict.  His mind tried to make sense of the command in relation to his memories and feelings.  Mr Giovanni, too, must have seen the struggle as he quickly changed his tack.

“Yes, Slobbers has gone missing, but I am sending people out to find him, and I have complete confidence that he will be found and returned to you.”

Slick. 

“Boofhead…? Slobbers…?” You could see the contradiction playing on Stallion’s face, “But how?”

“I’m sorry, Stallion,” I added my penny’s worth, turning on Presence, hoping to come across as the contrite but sympathetic friend. We couldn’t have latched the door properly when we left this evening.”

“Slobbers?  But what does that have to do with Boofhead?” 

“We never did find Boofhead, sorry to say.  That’s why you got Slobbers.  Remember?”

“Never found Boofhead?  But…” At that moment, I wished I could have seen through his thick skull to what was happening behind his sad, confused expression. Mr Giovanni had told him to forget Boofhead. Was he actually trying to make sense of years of memories and emotions?  You could see him glance at Izac, remembering something there…no.  Then to Luna and me….that didn’t make sense either.  After a night of bloodsport, an audience with the Prince and hours of study, this moment made Stallion look ill.

“My boy, you don’t look at all well. Maybe you should stay here at the bar tonight,” Mr Giovanni suggested.  Stallion searched the floor with his eyes as if the answers could be found there.  Finally, he looked up at me, pleading desperation in his face to make sense of it all.

“What…do you think, Rain?  Should I go home and wait for…Slobbers or stay here?”  God!  This was almost as heartbreaking as the bloody deed itself. 

“Mr Giovanni’s right, you don’t look in good shape.  Maybe you should stay here.”

“Excellent idea!” Mr Giovanni confirmed with false enthusiasm, “That way if there’s any news you’ll be first to hear it.” 

“Um…sorry for your loss, man,” Izac said as the worst seemed over.  Stallion did look washed out.  His aura was a sickly mix of deep blue suspicion, the white of innocence and grey depression.  Something was churning in his mind, but without the memories to make sense of what he was being told the suspicion couldn’t land on anything…or anyone.  

“Izac, you’ll help look for Slobbers won’t you,” It wasn’t a question.  Izac took the opportunity to get out from behind the filing cabinet and closer to the exit.

“Luna, help me take my mind of this?” Stallion almost pleaded, drawing Luna out from inside her book, “A friendly competition?  Something?”

“Are you joking? You’re a mess, I’d only beat you easily,” Though the words were as scathing as usual, the tone was gentler than I’d heard from Luna.

“Yeah, I may have hit my head one too many times,” 

I saw my chance to change the subject, “What exactly was this bloodsport activity you went to tonight?”

“I don’t know if I can talk about it.  It was pretty hush-hush.  Black hoods and all.”

What the hell had Guissepi sent him to?  I didn’t get to ask.  Both Mr Giovanni and Izac took the change in subject to leave and hopefully find a replacement Slobbers before the next night.

“So a spectator bloodsport? Where people pay to watch?”

“Sure…I guess. Like, there were people there.”

“Did you at least get paid?”

“Oh yeah,” That thought seemed to cheer him up a little, “Mr Giovanni’s promised a big money bonus.”

That subject petered out, and my eye was drawn to the scrappy paperback in Luna’s hands, Penny Dreadful: A Mage.  There would be no mage hunting tonight, nor the next it seemed by Mr Giovanni’s timetable. 

“Real magic,” I said in an outburst of reflection. ‘And in a few nights, we’ll witness it firsthand.”

“My book had lots on different types of magic,” Stallion picked up the book he’d been reading, “Maybe we can use it against the mage?”

“Do you hear yourselves?” Luna scoffed, “Magic is dangerous.”

She was right.  I knew nothing of real magic.  Still, I wondered if I were on the wrong side of the coming fight.

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

“You’ve had a rough evening, Izac. Would you like a drink?”  Mr Giovanni had taken Izac across Leichhardt to the Italian Forum and the restaurant we’d spent our first night.

“No, Mr Giovanni.”

He shrugged and ordered an itinerant professor, red, for himself.

“Stallion having a different dog is not harmful to us, but it is not ideal.”

“Yes, Mr Giovanni,”

“I’ll ensure the boys find a suitable replacement tomorrow.  I will need you to convince Rain to watch this one.  Make sure the work we’ve done tonight sticks.”

Silence from Izac.

“It will be a sad day if a group of metahumans couldn’t outsmart a human, even brilliant detective.”

“Mr Giovanni, you’re old, aren’t you?” Izac asked.

“I have a few years in this life.  Why do you ask?”

“What is your purpose besides servicing the Prince?”

“For me, that’s simple. Family, secrets, and business.” Mr Giovanni looked seriously over his glass at Izac. “Yours is to maintain the false memories.”

“Lie,” Izac mumbled. 

2.45 am 2 hours until sunrise

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

What Luna knew…

Reasoning Distaste 

A man crumbles over his own values. Brought down by the weight of his decisions. Makes deals that leave him shaking. 

Luna has very limited explanations as to why she dislikes Izac. It seems she found one of them. The man cannot even stand by his own principles. 

“It’s not fair!” The free man proclaims as he shackles another. 

She could be angry. She should be. If a deal such as this fell upon her she knows something for certain. She would have ripped Izac’s appendages from his body one by one. Hell, if she had a chariot she’d hook his ankles and parade him around like Alexandra had. Like Achilles before him. 

I want him to have free choice. The deluded spoke. 

I made a mistake. I take that back. A coward whispered. 

I made a choice for you. He proclaims. 

I took your memories. That is the deal he made for another. 

I left you fractured. A decision he will never admit to. 

Izac’s choices had been laid out in front of them and all Rain and her could do was observe. Forget and the damage was done. Anger brewed behind her calm exterior. Stallion needed their shoulders to lean on. She needed to make serenity and yet her distaste fermented.

 Why? Because something similar happened to you. 

“How so, my moon?” She could almost see her. A figure draped in furs, lurking in the shadows. The peering of red irises. 

You were dishonest. Luna could feel the words at the back of her throat. The comeback was weak at best.

 “Ah but my dearest lamb,” Luna kept walking with them. She wasn’t there. This was an echo. Something she couldn’t shake even though they were done. “If I could have offered the erasure of your past you would have begged at my feet.” 

Stallion never begged. He threw fists. He fought. He only wanted his dog. He never agreed to this (but he did). Slobbers never asked for this. They buried him in dirt. In a place he will never be found. They staked his heart and let his blood and Stallion was the one left hollowed. 

A perfect concoction with death on the horizon. 

A group already keeping secrets from one another. All of them playing a game of cat and mouse with no house cat in sight. 

Is it because they’re afraid of each other? Or themselves?

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

What Izac knows…

The Eyes of a Prince

The prince… I didn’t think to see him so soon, when Giovanni said the name, I almost forgot the fact that I was driving. So soon, I expected to have some more time. Rain is right is seems: Either things take an age, or they happen instantly.

Not even an hour after the trek into the bushland, the heading has changed once again to an even greater peril. No time to process, no time to come up with something to say to Stallion that might console him with the loss, given that he still remembers, if Giovanni holds true to his word…

We arrived, unnerved as I was. Didn’t help when Luna decided to heckle the busker on the street just by the roundabout near the Opera House. I had to double take in panic as I saw that it was none other than Stallion. I almost laughed in relief, until I remembered the betrayal inflicted on him. Giovanni, non plussed, decided to move on with things, as if nothing was of concern. After parking the car, and taking the breaths required to regain my focus, I met with the others, and we headed in. The side entrance. Should’ve figured really. Into the spider’s nest…

The amphitheatre was ominous, but he was very much in sight. A threat, not our kind, the dreamers, warlocks of some sort. It seems as though he wants us to handle the issue. “Marauder” apparently the only word that come back from his previous contacts sent on the job. I was never good in spotlights, being the centre of attention of things. I remember what you told me, but I came stuck. Time froze and I raced for answers to questions I know I couldn’t answer. I feel as if that spotlight is fixed on me for a time now. I have to play the role given. I hope to never have that ire on me again, but I feel it’s almost inevitable. Fuck…

I need a means to keep out of sight of the spies of the city. It confuses me though how those as, pardon the phrase, unpleasant to the eye, manage to survive in the city, much less maintain their secrecy in the Masquerade. There is something to that I’m sure, and lucky enough, a bar has recently opened.

Sitting and watching the world of the Crowbar play out is odd. I am in it, just not fully apart of it. I spot Rain heading downstairs with someone, I wonder if he enjoys what he does. He seems caring and empathetic about the plight of others of our kind. At the same time, he seems to have little hesitation on preying on humans. I try to interact, but I feel like it isn’t my place to do so. I don’t have to prove myself to anything.

—

We did it. We had the big talk. At least Giovanni held up his end, after some prodding. Despite his confusion and lamentation over the fact he “can’t keep care of a pet”  the deal seems done for now. I’m sorry Stallion…

Giovanni is like you in a way: A manipulator. An obfuscator. A mentor. His lessons are painful ones, and I loathe every time he lords his superiority over me. This disdain I have, it makes me want to go against my best interests. I can’t bite my tongue forever. There has to be a way to balance the scales. He is hiding something, he has to have another angle.

Breathe, try again…

We have a job, a means for Giovanni’s coterie to show themselves as a useful asset in the eyes of the Prince. Perhaps it in mine too…

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

Aura colours and their meanings (a work in progress)

Black: darkness, often veins or vines. Diablerist.

Brown: bitter

Dark Blue: 

Dark Green: Envy

Dark Red: Lust, passion

Gold: Spiritual

Grey: Depression

Light blue: Calm

Light green: Distrustful

Orange: Anxious

Pink: Compassionate

Purple: Aggressive

Red: Anger

Rose:

Silver: Sad

TV static: agitated

Vermillion: Pleasure, happiness.

Violet: Excited

White: Innocence, Earnest

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. 

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

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.

The Pyrmont House 8.00 pm 10 hours until sunrise

Stallion was the first of us up the next night.  Maybe because Slobbers wouldn’t leave him alone until he awoke, or perhaps, now he had his companion safely with him, he had a newfound optimism.  Regardless, his first task of the new night was to ring Mr Giovanni.

“Mr G!” He said when the phone line picked up.

Silence.

“Mr G?”

“I believe you’re trying to speak to me?” Came back the dour drawl of his sire.

“Yeah,” Stallion continued, oblivious, “I was wondering if this new life comes with I.D.?”

“It can be arranged,” I can hear Mr Giovanni’s paranoid senses sparking after the previous night’s debacle, “May I ask why the sudden need for paperwork?” I had texted Mr Giovanni that the police had been, but not even I knew at the time Stallion had given a name he was known by in his previous life.

“Just in case I need to prove I’m someone else, you know, not the other guy.”

“You never know when it will come in handy. Also, I want to get a car in the future, so I’ll need a driver’s licence at least.”

A pause on the line.  

“Well, if you really want to get your shit together, come over this evening, and I’ll have Giovanni get it for you.  As for a car, I hope we’re talking about something… inconspicuous?”

“If you’re buying, Mr Giovanni.”

Luna was down in the basement checking the space and our newly acquired tunnel for structural soundness. She was pleased to find The Pit as she called it, sturdy and relatively soundproof due to being built into the bedrock.  So, too, for the tunnel stretching into the darkness under Sydney’s streets.  She could feel the cross ventilation of many tunnels converging, opening all over Sydney.  She thought she could smell the metallic taint of the Underground train network, the human funk of the sewers and stormwater systems. 

I was the last to move that morning.  Though awoken as usual by the nightmares, I sat on my bed contemplating…choices. I called on my beast, the blood that makes us live.

Hmm?  Why do you summon me?

You said you knew things that I don’t.  Things to help Avel.  I want to help her…do whatever she wants to do.  Give her the ability to speak and stay or…have the power to go and…whatever… This was beyond anything I knew or understood.  I just wanted the best for her.

I had one idea, the voice drawled, and I’ve had another since.

Okay, so…what’s the first idea? 

Avel could be with us. You must know that ghosts are known to possess bodies from time to time. 

Share my body,  An odd thought for some, but that’s precisely how I came to know of her.  She had been a lost spirit needing shelter, and I let her…in. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, but was it best for her? It seemed a shadowy half-life, a poor excuse for existence.

And what’s the other idea, the new one?  

Well, I have heard your mother talking to the entity in the watch. 

I slid the watch smoothly from my pocket and into my hand,  flipping it between my fingers, contemplating this new idea.

What is it?

A demon, I don’t know who.  Be cautious. It’s powerful.

A demon?   I’d figured it was a spirit, something like Avel, trapped to its fetter.  That there were demons to add to the ghosts, werewolves and wizards of the world was a surprise. 

Then how can we trust it?

It wants something.  Use the knowledge that Avel is interested in securing a favourable deal.  Just word the bargain carefully.

Carefully.  Right. I was making a deal with a demon. I opened the watch, and the black gem winked balefully.

Just remember.  Three are friends.  Four is a crowd.

Are you ready to take my gift? I could feel more than hear the voice scratching at the back of my head.  I forced the beast back into his hole and tried to relax.  

Not yet.  I have reservations due to how much you scare Luna.  Why did you make her give the watch back to me?  She could have easily handed it to Stallion, who would gladly talk to you. Why me?

I have limited use for Stallion. You and Luna are useful. 

So.  We are valuable to you?  

Yes, The voice replied with some reluctance.  

I know you’ve been talking to someone.  What did she want from you?

Who?  Your mother? The Voice seemed more pleased with this line of questioning. Yes, we find we have something in common.

That irritated me. What would a tortured woman’s spirit have in common with a demon?

Oh, what?

A body.  A chance to make things right.

A body for Avel?  Was it even possible?  I saw how Avel could make a deal for such an outcome. But how to make sure it was what she wanted? And what was all this about making things right?

I don’t know if I like the idea of a demon roaming around, “…making things right.”  History is done.  What do you think you can change?

Mistakes made before time.  I want to fix the one I’m part of.

Humans have moved on since your lot picked them out of the dirt and taught them how to think.  A lot of evil and good has happened in that time.  Why should I risk it?

We…I…want to understand what went wrong.

There was an honesty to that statement.  I sensed that even the demon didn’t really understand how it felt. To me, it was an interesting philosophical thought. Having been raised Catholic, I’d come to think that the biblical view of history was somehow inevitable…almost planned, in a theatrical way. The creation, the fall and the long road to final redemption.  The hero’s journey on a grand scale. Still, as a demon, the Voice had another perspective. Why did some of the angels rebel?  I longed to hear this side of the tale but was expected at the Crowbar and needed to move this along.

So, Luna and I are your hands in the world?  What can we do for such an all-powerful creature as yourself?

I have limited power and perspective. I have been in here a long while. You, Luna and your mother can provide a modern understanding.

If all the Voice needed was a modern perspective, could I free Luna from this thing? Would she want that?  It was time to get down to brass tacks. 

Okay.  I’ve heard what you want to do, but what are you offering?

Another chance at life. It is what your mother wants. 

So you say.  I want to hear it from her. I want to know that this is what she wants.

A shimmering in the air in front of me resolved itself into the image of Avel, her long red scarf covering the dark curls of her hair.  She looked…good, not as sad and lost as before.  She looked hopeful.  Her glance looked through me as if she was unable to see me.  She smiled and pointed at the watch. In my mind, another voice, one that echoed through the decades and triggered memories I’d thought lost. 

I’ve been told what it will cost.  It’s a lot, but I’m willing to do it.  

Mamma, you don’t need to do this. I don’t want to lose you, but neither can I see you just….stuck. If this is what you want?

It’s a new chance, a new me.  I’m told I will keep only one memory. The rest would disappear. A look of shame, disgust, horror, and guilt swept over her face so quickly I couldn’t make sense of it. 

What Mamma?  What aren’t you telling me?  What could she be so ashamed of in her short life?  She’d been a wife and mother and died at the hands of… I then realised what memories she may be free of and felt ashamed.

 She shook her head. No, she didn’t need to explain further.

It will be my spirit, though.

Luna fears this being.  Is it really something you want to deal with? Avel looked confused, staring past me.

The scratching Voice reentered the conversation. Luna’s experiences are a great teacher. She has yet to understand who she is, but she will and will realise how much she has gained through our relationship. 

I stared at the insubstantial face of my mother, trying to read any sign of fear, doubt or trepidation.  There was a nervousness, an anticipation of change that hadn’t resolved itself, either good or bad.  I saw no coercion or fear. She had made her choice. Who was I to deny her?

If Avel wants to do this, what must I do?

Two things. Firstly, you will accept my gift.  It will give you the ability to create new life.  You will then need to take care of the plant of your making.  It will grow a new body for Avel and me.

Setting aside the cosmic-sized concept of creating a new life, Avel was to share her new life with a demon?

She’s binding herself to you?

We are to become one.  Where now there is us, there will be only I.

The thought horrified me.  How much of the original person could there be after joining with a demon?  Again, I looked to Avel.  Her expression was unwavering.  It wasn’t my life to live.

I trust you, Mamma. I accept.

Suddenly, I was aware of what needed to be done.  The plant…no, the tree didn’t need light, but it did need feeding.  Maybe the Nosferatu’s could build on a garden room off the pit?  It could solve any future issue with…disposal.

If you are to be one with Avel, what is your name?

At this, the demons paused to consider, That is not something I would normally share with ‘One of the First Son’, and I noted a little distaste in the demon’s words.  It seemed he liked dealing with vampires as much as I liked dealing with demons.

Names have power, and I would need a vow to give you such information.  You will not disclose the information I provide except to those with permission. Deliberately or involuntarily, breaking your vow will create a debt of servitude.

And this debt?

Nothing that you wouldn’t do given time. Nothing that will lead to your demise. 

Such a lot of fuss over a name.  I threw names off like last season’s fashions and never thought much about it. Still, I wanted to know who I was dealing with.

I agree, And repeated the vow. 

I am Beelzebub, Lord of flies, House of Devourers, Angel of the Wilds, House of Bone and Blood, The Sixth House, One of the Alabaster Legion and one of the Lords of Hell, second to Azazel, second to Satan himself. 

There are no expletives in any language I know that has the gravitas of this pronouncement. One of the first three to fall from heaven. The Deity Baal Zebul, revered by the Philistines.  How did my life become this Gilameshian drama?!

What are you doing here stuck in a watch?!

It’s a long story…

Luna didn’t knock but burst straight in with all her teenage exuberance.  Still, I was faster, and the watch disappeared as she flung open the door.

“Oh, I guess I should have knocked,” She said excitedly.  After the fear and self-recrimination I’d seen in her the night before, it was a very welcome change. 

“It’s not a problem, “ I smiled, “What’s got you so excited?”

“I’ve just been down in the basement.  The pit is structurally sound, as is that tunnel.  The Nosferatu know what they’re doing.  I think it’s connected to other tunnels all over the City.”

“Structurally sound” had never occurred to me, “Well, that’s good to know.  The Pit is a good name, too. I’ll get Lenny to mock up some art for it.  Any particular style you fancy?”

We talked through ideas.  Mine of a Speakeasy worked well with Luna’s Art Deco ‘flapperesque’ style.  Together, we took our ideas down to Lenny, who was already busy in his studio. 

“Yeah, I’ll have some ideas for you tomorrow evening,” He said, and I once more felt that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to work out.  

“And sorry about all the noise last night.  We argued about the dog,” I said as Stallion mooched past and out the door, leaving his waging companion behind, “His name is Slobbers, by the way.”

“Augh, yeah, the police came by asking about that.”

“The police, what did they want?”  I’d been caught up in my own internal dramas I hadn’t even thought to let Lenny know what was up.  

“They were asking about Stallion. How long we’d been living here?  Was I on anything?”

On anything?  Lenny had been a street kid and junky for months before I met him. It was no surprise the police would know him. But, looking at him, he was nothing but a bright and creative young man.  His skin was clear, and a healthy tan replaced the dark bruising. He was eating well, steering clear of all drugs and displayed a focus on his work that was quickly filling walls in my little gallery.  He was an inspiration.

“Well, that’s fine,” I tried to sound cheerful, “Well, hopefully that will be the last of it.  If they come around, just answer their questions politely but succinctly,” I handed over a hundred dollars, “Here, get yourself and the dog some food and whatever else you need.”

“Do you want me to walk it during the day?” He asked, Slobbers now turning to us at the word ‘walk’.  He was a demanding, though intelligent creature.  The damage that Slobbers would bring down on us was done.  There was no point in hiding the dog, was there?

“Yes, that would be good for both of you.  If you don’t mind.” I was about to leave.  Luna was already at the front door waiting as we were both due at the Club.

“Ah, Rain.  I’m getting…a bit itchy,” Lenny said, drawing me back. 

“Oh!” I hadn’t realised we’d been in the house a month already,” I looked back to Luna and begged her patience while I quickly bit into my wrist and let the blood pool.  

I wasn’t ready for his…eagerness, though I shouldn’t have been. I’d seen it in Mr Giovanni’s ghoul, Madeline.  As he drank, I was once more keenly aware he’d just swapped one drug for another.  I focused on his art and health, pushing that thought to the back of my mind.

At the Crowbar, Izac was having an existential crisis of his own. He’d arrived early to the bar on Mr Giovanni’s promise to show him a file on Detective Woodman. What he read sent him into a whimpering mess.

COP SUFFERS FINAL HEART ATTACK

MORE DEAD COPS 

DERANGED COP ELECTROCUTES SELF 

DISGRACED COP SLEEPS IN TRASH

DISTRICT IN MOURNING: BURNED-OUT COP SHOOTS CHILD

11 DEAD IN A BLOODY SHOOT-OUT IN MARTINAISE

POLICE OFFICER RESPONSIBLE FOR SUICIDE OF SUSPECT

Mr Giovanni checked in on him while he quietly had a nervous breakdown in the library.

“Do you understand now why getting rid of the dog is imperative?”

“I don’t want to say yes…but…”

“You’re an intelligent man. What do you understand about our Detective Woodman now?”

“He’s not going away anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

“No, he isn’t. That means we need to play the long game. Frustrate his thinking by not saying anything to him and sending him on his way.  Distract him by placing him in someone else’s path. Things, like the dog, attract his attention.”

“Yes, Mr Giovanni.”

“Now, come along. I have work for you downstairs.”

Mr Giovanni led a meek Izac downstairs, where Bruce worked in the cool room. 

“Bruce, I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to our latest member.  This is Izac. He’s going to make himself useful.

“Oh?” Bruce looked Izac up and down, “How much do you bench press?”

“What? I…I don’t know,” 

“Do you think you could do 70kg, dead weight?” Bruce’s eyes flicked up to Mr Giovanni, but the boss was inscrutable as usual.

“I’ll leave Bruce to show you the ropes,” Mr Giovanni said, reassuring Izac with a pat on the back before returning to his duties upstairs.

“Ah…what are we doing?” Izac followed Bruce into the cold storage to be confronted with the hanging body of a man in his thirties, “Augh!”

Started to semi-consciousness, the man groaned. 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s fresh.” Bruce ignored the weak protests of the man. “As the boss explains it, it’s not cannibalism for your lot as you’re not human.”

“What are you doing with…them?” Izac asked, realising there were other bodies, men and women, hung up in the dark recesses. 

“Here, I’ll show you,” and Bruce drags another body around, a young woman this time, and gives Izac a metal tap like those used for beer kegs.

“There will be times you’ll need to help store them, but today, we’re tapping one for the bar.

The tap drops from Izac’s numb hands.  

“I…no…I can’t.”

“I guess you don’t have to worry until the others get hungry,” Bruce smirked, pointing back upstairs.  Izac followed the gesture and scrabbled back up the stairs. 

He found Stallion bored at the front door. 

“Stallion!  You’re needed downstairs.  Someone down there…he’ll show you what to do…”

“Oh?” At this, Stallion looked up, “I haven’t been promoted to food.  I don’t go down there, but if you show me what to do…”

Stallion allowed himself to be dragged downstairs, where Bruce was closing the cold store, a fresh jug of ‘red’ decanted in one hand. 

“Mr Giovanni’s guy can show you…” Izac waved at Bruce, pushing Stallion forward.

As if summoned by the mere mention of his name, Mr Giovanni appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Good boy, are you causing trouble?”

“Sir…Mr Giovanni, I really think it’s in your best interests for me to work upstairs and..not…down….here.”

“No, Izac, I’ve thought this through. If you wish for guilt-free blood, I have clients’ demands to fill, and this is how we do it.”

“Isn’t it going to ruin my relations with the…werewolves,” Izac said the last word in a whisper, not sure who was in the know.

“Your relationship doesn’t work like that,”

“Are you sure?”

“Izac, you’ve killed before…”

“No, I haven’t.” Izac interrupted so emphatically Mr Giovanni stopped and narrowed his eyes, thinking.

“Still, these…individuals are already dead.  You are an angel of mercy.”

“Mr Giovanni, I don’t mind tapping his keg for him,” Stallion interrupted, gaining the boss’s attention.

“Why are you down here, Stallion?”

Stallion pointed at Izac.

“This is a waste of your wonderful talents,”

“Izac asked to help.”

“He’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure,” and then, by way of distraction, “Guiseppi has your new identity.”

At this, Stallion brightened and was happy to leave Izac to wallow in misery.

“Stallion, are you happy being a bouncer?” Mr Giovanni as they climbed the stairs to the offices.

“I think I’m ready for other, more interesting ventures.”

“Good, such as what? Big money is not in the bar.  People will pay handsomely for…extras.”

“I’m not looking for more money,” Stallion said, glad to make his point, “I need something…more exciting.”

Mr Giovanni smiled a grin that would have sent hair on the back of my neck on end and had Izac scrambling for a corner.

“Definitely speak to Guiseppi.”  

The Crowbar 8.20 pm 9 hours until sunrise

Stallion was on duty outside the Crowbar as Luna, and I arrived.  He looked bored but didn’t comment as we entered.  Luna bypassed the main bar and made straight for Mr Giovanni’s library.  I headed for the main room, where Mr Giovanni was conspicuous by his absence. A worm of guilt festered in my gut, reminding me I owed him an apology for the previous night’s antics.  Internally, I cringed. Just when I had real business to discuss, I had to find a way back into his good graces. 

A very agitated Izac stumbled erratically across the front of the house, his clothes dishevelled and mumbling to himself.  He headed straight for the back door.  Putting off the confrontation with the Sire for just a little while longer, I  followed. 

“I hate this…I hate this…I hate this…” He was pacing down the alleyway, staring warily at the stormwater grate. 

“Hey, you don’t look so good, “I said, also glancing down the drain but seeing nothing.

“Rain!” He spun around, his expression of anxiety quickly replaced with…guilt. Oh yeah, another apology required.

“I want to apologise for going off at you last night.  I…have an issue with…” I mimed, pulling a gun out of a jacket.

“No, I…you don’t need to…I don’t like people trying to force their will on me…”

“…I can appreciate that…”

“…I overreacted…”

“…as did I…and I’m under no illusion that Mr Giovanni and his men didn’t have weapons on them.” I smiled, but Izac did not reciprocate, he was still agitated by something.

“Um…can we go somewhere and talk…it’s important.”

“Sure, we could probably steal Mr Giovanni’s office for a while.” 

In silence, we reentered the club. Mr Giovanni was still missing from the floor. Where was he?  We climbed the stairs and quickly slipped into the office, ensuring the door was closed.

“Mistakes have been made, and I now know that finding…a certain thing was a very bad idea.”
“You’re talking about Slobbers,” I sat back on Mr Giovanni’s solid wood desk and crossed my arms. When I couldn’t get a response from Stallion last night, I should have known the Boofhead-Sloobers dramas weren’t over.

“It should never have been brought to your house.  It needs to go.”

“I agree,” I didn’t add Stallion would not hear of it. I didn’t think it needed saying. 

“It’s only going to bring more trouble. “

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Izac stared at me as if he’d expected a fight.  I had nothing against the poor beast, but if it was between him or all our lives…it was a simple transaction.

“Ur…right…we need to talk to Luna.”

“She’s in the library doing some research for me.”

“Library!” Izac nearly face palmed, “I was just in there.”

Next to the office was a small windowless room.  The private library of Mr Giovanni.  Inside, the walls were covered in bookshelves full of books collected over a long and colourful existence. A filing cabinet, a small desk and an oversized comfortable chair were the only other pieces of furniture in the room.  Luna was almost swallowed by the chair, deeply absorbed by a white-covered book called ‘The Days of Fire’.

The scratching Voice stirred in my mind, curious and insistent.

I was wondering where he had got to.

He who?

Morning Star.  

I nearly choked. Satan himself? 

The Voice continued, After the rebellion, many of us were sent away.  He wasn’t among us. 

Satan is trapped in a book?!

No, more his essence, his hand.

Like the writings of an author after they’ve left the room?

More like….movie credits…they show his work.

Though the conversation was all-encompassing and of profound importance, it took as little time as crossing the room and gaining Luna’s attention.

“Luna.  Izac has something to ask you,” I said and slouched against the desk, signalling the room as Izac’s.

She closed her book and turned her irritated but calm expression to us.  

“Has something to ask me?”

“I don’t know how to say this but, we have to get rid of the dog.  I was hoping you’d help.”

Luna sat in a burning silence for a moment, her eyes narrowed to slits, her hands gripping the arms of the chair.

“Why?”

“Why what?” 

Now it was clear she was really angry or scared…it was hard to tell which.

“Why the flip?  You were so adamant that keeping the dog was the right thing last night. What’s changed?”

“I made a mistake.  I talked to Mr Giovanni and read his file on Woodman,” At this, Izac turned and opened the filing cabinet.  Locating a file, he placed it on the desk beside the white book.  

 What we read was worse than we could have all imagined.  How was this man still allowed to walk around in public?  How was he still walking?

“That’s interesting,” Luna replied, seemingly unphased, still seething.

“Whatever the Detective is, he’s not going anywhere.”
“Yes, Mr Giovanni has had a bug about him from day one.  What’s changed?”

“I…know?” Izac stalled.  This wasn’t going how either of us expected. 

“Luna,” I interjected, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean?”

Now, her baleful look that had been focused on Izac turned on me.  Me?  She was angry with me?!

“Because you don’t listen!” She slammed the book down on the desk between us.

“You never ask enough questions, and it bites us in the arse all the time!  Why are we doing this?”

“I…” I hadn’t expected this personal attack. I listen.  I listen all the time…when I think to do it.  As for asking questions…she may have a point.  Bruce always told me I was too hasty. Caught between her anger and my own reaction, I answered with the first thing that came to mind: “…I don’t want to lose my family.”  Sentimental and sweet, but it wasn’t the truth. I lost and cast off more ‘family’ than I’d had names.  Besides,  I didn’t think of Stallion as family, at least not the ones you keep close.  Izac, I hardly knew and disliked his way of dealing with conflict.  If all went to hell, Luna was the only one I’d genuinely miss.  Ha! Maybe I’d see her there.  Still, I stood firm by my statement.  Her glance glided off me like a dismissal, neither disbelieved nor accepted.

“I don’t want to go back to what I was before,” Izac said with such raw honesty it was heartbreaking. 

Luna looked down at the newspaper clippings and took a voluntary breath in.

“I’ve lost so much to be here, “ She said, not looking up from the desk, “I don’t want to lose you for lack of information.”

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

“Guiseppi!” Mr Giovanni called his nephew across the office Bruce and he shared,” Good news, Stallion is ready to get off the bench.  I want you to expunge his records for him, start afresh.”

“Bribery or blackmail, uncle?”

“A bit of both, I should think.” Mr Giovanni was in a good mood when he turned his attention to Stallion.

“Now, Stallion, Guiseppi here is very reliable and knows his way around.  If he tells you to do something, you do it, no question asked. Agreed?”

“Sure, Mr Giovanni,” Stallion replied eagerly.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” Mr Giovanni asked Guiseppi without taking his eyes off Stallion.

“Fights are on tonight,” Guiseppi grinned.

“A fight?  I can do that,” Stallion said, feeling this was a real step up from bouncing. “It’s been a while since I  was in a brawl.  If the fight with Luna counts.”

“That was a pretty tasty fight,” Guiseppi snickered, wiping drool from his lip, “Barbwire knuckle fighting is the full meal.”

“He’s ready for it!” Mr Giovanni slapped Stallion on the back in encouragement.

“We’re going for a ride, Stallion.  Get your boot on!”

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

What a mess of broken pieces we were. I leaned forward to say something, anything to break the tension.  My hand just happened to cover the white book. It was smaller than it looked in Luna’s hands, only slightly larger than my palm.

“Look, if you don’t want to help, I understand,” Izac got in ahead of me.  When Luna looked up, the book disappeared.

“Stallion’s not going to like it.”

“I don’t like it,” Izac said with empathy, “We’re taking away his freedom of choice.”

“Do you think any of us had freedom of choice?” Luna lamented.

I did.  

At that moment, the door opened, and in strode Mr Giovanni looked pleased with himself. I stood from my slouch, and a small weight filled my jacket pocket. 

“Ah, Izac, do they know?”

“Yes, we’re just sorting out a few things.”

“Good. Well, Stallion is preoccupied, so there is no time like the present.”

“So soon?” 

I smiled, “Yes, it seems with vampires, it’s either wait a hundred years or hurry up.”

“But, I wanted to let Stallion know.  He should be involved.”

“Izac, you asked for a window.  Here is your window.”

“Mr Giovanni, could we possibly use the car?” I asked.  His eyes flickered over me so fast I couldn’t read anything.  He pulled a set of car keys from his pocket, tossing them in Izac’s direction. 

“Your mess, you drive.”

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

Stallion, too, was taking a ride of his own, blindfolded. Excited at the prospect of what was to come, he trustingly followed Guiseppi out of the car and into an underground space.  Here, he was stripped naked and boxing gloves tied to his hands.  Stallion allowed it to happen sure this would lead to something amazing. The blindfold disappeared, and the rusted and blood-stained strands of barbwire decorating the gloves came into focus.  

Guiseppi led the way down a passage into a depression with steep sides, something like a crater.  Spotlights ringed the depression, providing light to the centre while leaving the edges in impenetrable darkness.  There was a crowd. Occasionally, forms drifted through the darkness, though nothing more than vague outlines could be discerned.  Guiseppi gestured for Stallion to enter the pit.

“Ha! Like Wednesday’s back home!” Stallion smirked, and as he walked into the light, he threw his hands into the air, shadow-boxed and gave the crowd something to cheer for.  He was young, fit and knew he looked good, so why not let others enjoy the view as well? 

Silence from beyond the light.

Across the pit, an opponent appeared, also naked with the same barbed gloves on their fists.  From the darkness, a bell rang, and though no rules had been established, the fight was on.

The opponent, more experienced than Stallion, attacked first.  Stallion was just fast enough to jink aside the glove, missing his face to graze his arm and shoulder.  The barbs scratched but barely registered as pain, just sensation. Stallion smiled maliciously. It was his turn.  He dummied a punch to the face and instead dropped, sweeping his front leg in an arc to catch his opponent in the back of the knee.  Surprised, His opponent quickly shifted his weight to his back leg and kept his footing.  As Stallion rose from his attack, the opponent brought his fist down in a swinging punch onto Stallion’s head.  Stallion tried to block the punch but found himself bunched up and cut up his chest with his own barbed fist as the blow connected and sent him reeling.  Off to one side, Guiseppi licked his lips in delight.

Stallion now stepped around his opponent, using the momentum to power his strike against his opponent’s stomach.  The punch struck true, cutting through flesh, muscle and membrane to pierce his opponent’s guts.  As he pulled back his arm, a string of intestines came with it.  The opponent, shock and panic clear on his face, dropped to his knees, desperately trying to scoop up his own insides.  His guard gone, Stallion swung a king hit for the unprotected head.  He stepped forward, slipped on a fresh pool of blood and fell backwards, striking himself in the face with his own glove.  

Nothing stirred beyond the circle of light.  No murmured conversations, no cheers or winces in empathy.

The opponent was no longer concerned with Stallion. All his attention was focused on trying to protect his quickly spilling life.  Stallion stood, waiting to hear the bell or a signal from his opponent that he was giving up.  Nothing.  With a shrug, he swung again, misjudged the action and once more cut himself with his own gloves.  He’d now done more damage to himself than the opponent, and still the fight continued.  His opponent was barely clinging to life, swaying on his knees, clutching his stomach.  Stallion breathed in, and the smell of blood stirred his appetite.  His mouth filled with the thought of blood.  

Still, there was silence from the crowd.  No bell was rung, and the opponent did not yield. If this was going to end, Stallion needed to do it.  This time, he stepped in and grappled the man, pushing him backwards until he was prone, helpless to defend against Stallion’s last blow.  

Stallion saw Guiseppi waving him back, and stepping away from the mess that had been another being, he returned.

“Very good!  Very tasty display there,” Guiseppi grinned, untying the glove, handing Stallion a towel and his arm.  Stallion took the former and looked confused at the latter.

“If you want to feed and heal up,” Guiseppi offered again, and Stallion shook his head.  His wounds stung, but it was the most alive he’d felt in…more than a month!  He wanted to wear his battle scars with pride.

“Yeah, well, you have to show dominance when you can,” He boasted, then remembered that most of his injuries were self-inflicted, “I did fumble a little.”

Guiseppi grinned his oversized grin, drool slipping liquidly down his chin, “Virgins always make mistakes. That’s why they’re special.”

Stallion cleaned himself off and changed back into his suit.

“After that victory, let me take you for a night on the town,” Guiseppi said, returning the blindfold to Stallion’s eyes.

“Yeah!  A night on the town!” It was precisely what Stallion needed after a month of disappointment and banality. He was finally getting back to what living was all about. 

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

“He what?” 

We were in the car heading home, and Mr Giovanni had just been informed that Slobbers was Stallion’s ghoul.

“There was blood on Slobber’s lips.  Stallion said he did it so Slobbers wouldn’t feel any pain.” I admitted. I didn’t think it mattered.

“The dog can’t just disappear. It needs to die.  It will always want to return to its master.” For those of us still holding onto the idea of finding Slobbers a new home, that news came as a sobering reminder of what we’d set out to do. Least to say, the car trip back was silent. Luna and Izac entered the house. Slobbers, excited at the prospect of what was to come, trustingly followed Luna out to the car. Izac returned to his place behind the wheel, carrying the handle of the broken broom.

“The Royal, via Waterfall at this time of night,” Mr Giovanni gave the order, and Izac smoothly pulled out and pointed the car south.  It was a long, quiet trip out with only a few directions to break the silence.  Slobbers enjoyed all the smells through a crack in the window as Luna gently fondled his velvet ears, warm and soft.  

Just after Waterfall, Izac turned off the Princes Highway and headed into the darkness under the forest canopy.  The oldest National Park in Sydney and home to any number of human remains, it was a thick jungle of temperate rainforest right on the City’s doorstep.  The natural place to lose a beloved pet.  Mr Giovanni instructed Izac to park at the Uloola Falls campground, where we all climbed out and headed into the bush on foot. 

Slobbers ran ahead, investigating every sound or disturbance in the shrub. We carried shovels,  the broken handle and our guilt. Mr Giovanni called a halt twenty minutes into the forest, a long way from established tracks, and Luna called Slobbers back to us.  

There was an awkward pause, and we silently decided what came next.

I knelt, and Slobbers trotted up and sat before me, bright excitement in his eyes.  I held out my hand, and he quickly placed his paw in it, pleased to know what to do.  I wasn’t looking forward to what came next, but I knew it would be a kind death.  I bent to bite his neck.

“Wait! Stop! What are you doing?” Izac interrupted, and I gladly rocked back on my heels.

“What are you doing?  I wanted to make it painless.” 

“I don’t know any more painless way.  Besides, if we have any concerns about him returning, we must drain him.”

“I was going to stab it in the heart.” He brandished the broom handle, and I was reminded of the night before. Was he going to use that thing on Luna and me?

I shuddered and slowly stood, unwilling to make eye contact with him, “As long as you do hit the heart.”

He did.  It was quick.  The bright excitement left Slobber’s eyes in death.  No confusion, no recriminations.  I still drained the body.  I could taste the vitae that Stallion had fed him. When it was done, we picked up the shovels and started digging.  Mr Giovanni stood apart from the three of us. The only thing clearly visible in the darkness was his eager grin. It matched my beast’s mood as it giggled merrily inside my head. I couldn’t determine if it was at my discomfort or at the act we’d been party to. For my part, the hole became more and more reminiscent of my nightmares.  Eventually, I had to leave Luna and Izac to finish the hole, and I did busy work looking for plants to fill the grave.  

They dug it deep and lay Slobber’s body in the bottom, the makeshift stake still stuck in his sun-yellow chest.  Shovel full by shovel full, it filled up again.  We packed down the ground to avoid settling and replanted the scrubs and grasses I’d gathered.    Dirty, ashamed and silent, we stood again, wondering what to do.  Something needed saying.

“Though we’d only known you a short time, Slobbers, it was a pleasure to have known you.  You were a very good…friend, and this was never your fault.” 

Of course, I did. It’s what I do.  

The Royal National Park, 10.50 pm 6 hours until sunrise

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

This she knew.

Walls built of hollowed, polished wooden planks built into cubbies and staked from floor to

ceiling. Each parchment has its own story. From the cover to the page, the words have their own

labyrinths and crips. Once nestled in the arms of a curator, Luna knows of paper ageing and the

care of delicate material.

She knows the power in knowledge.

She knows the familiar weight of withholding information. Of never discussing things to another

soul. The weight of that dagger strapped behind her vocal cords, hidden within her cerebral

cortex. Always teetering on the edge.

Luna intimately knows the hurt of withheld information. Of the knives others place into her back,

of the late night rendezvous, of the consequence of sharp teeth. Crafted, curated, concocted.

Two male individuals find her in her domain. Their presence was almost missed as she dreamt

of an original Greek transcript in existence of Days of Fire. Sitting across from her, they paint a

mosaic of shame, hesitation, guilt and reservation.

They say Slobbers is condemned with execution.

She could write pages on how it was this way since Stallion wished for the removal of his past.

Luna knew what it takes to strip an echo. Of the tethers you must cut, shred and sheer. That

Slobbers was living on borrowed time since the decree of Stallion’s death.

Seeing the dog in their house when it was previously in the Detective’s possession was a shot

of lead into her vascular system.

She had understood from the beginning. The curt conversations, the subtle tensing of Dominic’s

shoulders and the oblique language choices. These were all indicators of apprehension, of

cautiousness, of knowing you are in the predator’s territory. Detective Woodman was a force

even a vampire such as Dominic would not step towards. Luna tried to guide them. Do not go to

him. Do not talk to him.

“I will tell you more later,” she had promised Izac. Ignorance to a being such as Woodman spelt

death. Of that, Luna was certain with no physical evidence but a gut feeling. She had tried to

guide him. Shut the door of the passenger seat, stand as a wall between the Detective and Izac,

telling in a subverted way to stay in the damn car.

Against advice, against guidance, Rain stood beside him. Entertained the toying game of a

mastermind. A simple stringed puppet in the hands of a mastered Puppeteer. Or the musings of

a madman. It was Rain’s charm, it will be Rain’s downfall.

Luna knew of guilt.

Besides her Beast’s aversion to what Izac is, she knew the slouch of his shoulders and his

relatively soft speaking. You would paint him upon the reverse of her coin. Luna has guilt, a

lifetime of shame upon her back but that is where she plans to leave it. Out of sight, out of

thought. If she does not acknowledge it, it can hold no weight. She will not let them chain her

down.

If Luna did not know how to reassemble her broken pieces, she would be another bag of sherds

left to be lost in an Assemblage and catalogued into a museum’s storage. Forgotten.

One moment Izac was fighting for free choice, for free will, for a man who was working towards

acceptance in his journey of grief. Supplying the guided with false hope and false word and an

illusion of the possible future. Luna knows that hopefulness and naivety walk a thin line and

kindness can always be manipulated into a slight.

Then there is her friend.

Rain is forcing himself into an impression of certainty.

“We need to get rid of the dog,” he says, a given fact as if it had to be beaten into him. He

sounded almost meek.

“Why?” That is all she offered to the stone she had made her expression into.

“Because we have to.” You’re misleading.

“Why?” she pushes. Will they give in? Do they suspect her of being a fool?

“Luna.”

“Why.”

Rain does not pirouette, he stumbles. “I am afraid I do not know what you mean.”

The anger does not recede. The flame grows from the fuel of hurt.

There’s a reason behind their drastic behavioural changes. Something they withhold from her

from a misguided sense of protection. Luna does not need a shield of their over two decade

separation. She knows of pain, of betrayal, of wounds.

This was her funnel web. She was taught from the best. If you are a Keeper of knowledge, one

must learn to master its collection.

The reason was an assortment of papers spanning years. Luna would never diminish the

human anguish one might feel in seeing the hurt of others, especially at this magnitude. But this

was knowledge. It took no side. It possessed no feeling. It makes itself known and the handler is

the one who gives it purpose. The one who labels it an atrocity. She called them interesting

because that is precisely what the knowledge provided her, scope and a possible pattern.

Their reactions told her they let themselves be consumed by a humanistic narrative. That

empathy and sympathy must be collected from these words. That is no fault of their own. It was

how they have lived with the acquisition of knowledge.

So in their vulnerability she demanded the one thing they withheld from her. Truth.

Rain was the first to cave.

“I’m scared of losing my family.” That is what they are, right? Though Rain was no parent, he

was the eldest. He was expected to know better, to act smarter. Perhaps he has conned himself

into that belief.

Izac was next.

“I don’t want to go back to what I was. That’s why I make dumb decisions.” Guilt ridden as

always, though it was a truthful statement. He believes this down to his core. The real or

fabricated is still to be determined.

Now she was centre stage. She thought of holding back, of saying nothing. Trust is best built in

a two way street. Her gaze set upon the headlines was enough of a push.

“I’ve lost so much to be here. I will not let a lack of knowledge be our downfall.” Lost was an

inadequate word. Stripped, torn, forced may have sufficed but lost was not wrong either. All

those synonyms lead to loss.

And she meant the last part. She was placed here by a Keeper of knowledge. She would rather

tear the world down then let information that was within her grasp to be the cause of the end to

their un-lives. She was not a poet, irony will not mark the pages of her story. Not if she can

interfere.

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

Aura colours and their meanings (a work in progress)

Black: darkness, often veins or vines. Diablerist.

Brown: bitter

Dark Blue: 

Dark Green: Envy

Dark Red: Lust, passion

Gold: Spiritual

Grey: Depression

Light blue: Calm

Light green: Distrustful

Orange: Anxious

Pink: Compassionate

Purple: Aggressive

Red: Anger

Rose:

Silver: Sad

TV static: agitated

Vermillion: Pleasure, happiness.

Violet: Excited

White: Innocence, Earnest

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. 

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

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.

The Pyrmont House, 12.45 pm 6 hours until sunrise

Another night without Stallion and Izac, but I wasn’t concerned.  We had made a few new connections, had ideas for our mutual new investment, something which Luna could call her own, and talked. We talked about everything and nothing.  The colour of curiosity, the themes of War and Peace, and the history found in The Book of Nod.  We never seemed to run out of topics of interest and were still working through the finer details of anthropological research when we reached home, and I unlocked the door.  

As soon as I entered, I knew something was different. A stack of books Luna had left on the hall table to return to the library was straightened.  A scuff on the wall I’d meant to clean was now gone, and there was a slight breeze that hadn’t existed before.

“Um, Hi, we’re here,” Called a voice from upstairs.  Izac looked down from the tops of the staircase, looking out of place.

“Izac, I’m surprised to see you,” I smiled, trying to look as casual as I had felt a moment before, “Is Stallion with you?” 

 Though we’d known him for only four nights, and one of those, he’d wandered off to do his own thing, I was trying to think of him as one of us.  I’d even even toyed with the idea of him staying in Pyrmont with us, but there never seemed an opportunity to ask.

“Stallion’s here,” He replied sheepishly, and Luna and I glanced at each other. Something was up. A thunder of pawprints rattled across the old floorboards of the first floor as a sunshine-coloured brick on legs stormed down the stairs toward us.   It stopped on its rump politely before Luna and me in a heavy clatter of nailed feet, its head splitting into a wide, slobbering canine grin.  I assumed it was a grin. There were a lot of teeth.

“What…doing…here?” Words failed me.  After the detective and everything! 

 “We got back stallion’s dog for him,” Izac announced with a little pride.  As if summoned, Stallion started down the steps after his four-footed disaster as if nothing was wrong in the world. Actually, he looked revoltingly smug.  

“That’s a good boy, Slobbers, say hello to Luna and Rain.”

My hand went straight to my phone.

COULD YOU MEET US AT MY HOME ASAP? I texted Mr Giovanni.  His reply, as usual, was prompt.

HOW DIRE IS THE THREAT?

FUTURE DIRE.  PRESENT DISGUSTING. I watched as drool started staining the one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old floorboards.

Meanwhile, in Leichhardt, Mr Giovanni was calling out all the troops.  Like mythical men in black, they marched out of The Crowbar, Mr Giovanni in the lead, popping the boot on the expensive imported car to retrieve their weapons.  A pistol-shaped hole in the moulded polyeuthane told them one was missing.

“When was this car out?” Mr Giovanni asked Bruce.

“Three nights ago,” When the coterie travelled to the dog shelter.

“Anyone else been near it since?”
“Only you, Mr Giovanni and you childe,” Bruce replied as smartly as a well-trained soldier before mumbling under his breath, “As sweet as that is.”

Mr Giovanni said nothing, only texted back to me.

BACK UPS COMING

?? BACKUP PLURAL?? I’d just escalated what could have been a family dispute into a crime against the Masquerade.

“Slobbers?” I asked as I dragged my eyes off the beast before me to its master, “You have another dog?”

“No,” Stallion laughed easily.  He was very pleased with himself, “I just figured, new life, new name.  Boofhead’s new name is Slobbers.”  The thick wedge-shaped head of Slobbers tiled back and looked lovingly up at Stallion.  

Down the hallway, under the stairs, a knock sounded against the basement door.  That could be only one thing, but why now? 

“This is a thing,” Luna said as I skirted around Stallion and Slobbers and headed for the door.  

“A real thing,” I replied, wondering what sport the Nosferatu would make out of all this drama. 

Izac clattered down the stairs, a broom in hand. Izac cleaned up?  Genius! I was hard-pressed to get the residents to tidy up.  I didn’t think too much of it.  It was Izac, the good boy.  I opened the door.

“Hello?” It was another Nosferatu.  This one carried a bag of tools in one hand and covered in dirt and masonry dust.

“Yeah, I’m here for the deal,” he said without preamble.

“The deal?  We made that deal only last night.  We haven’t found a place as yet.”  Boy!  With vampires, it’s either wait centuries or now.

“Why don’t you talk to your sire if you ain’t got a place for us yet?”

“Yes, but” I was very aware that the argument over the dog was gearing up in earnest right beside us.  I needed another place to hold this conversation.  For some reason, Izac was breaking my broom with his foot.

“Do you know if it’s tagged?  You don’t know what Woodman could have done to him.”

“We got rid of the chip.”  I could almost hear Stallion’s eyes rolling.

“Sorry, please come in. I’m Rain, what’s your name?” I gestured for the Nosferatu to enter, and he stepped in enough for me to close the door and ushered him towards the gallery space.

“Pangea,” He replied through a face that resembled the map of the ancient supercontinent he was named for, “Well, how about a meal?  You can’t socialise without a meal.”

“The deal is between me, Luna, “I pointed to Luna arguing about Stallion wanting us all dead, “and the Nosferatu.  Mr Giovanni is not involved.” Directly, I thought.

“As for a meal, I’m sorry, I don’t keep anything…for us… here.  We intend to find another building for the nightclub.  Not here.” I may have said those last two words with more emphasis than I wanted.

“What about downstairs?  What if we brought our own food?” Pangea asked as the argument hushed as the doorbell rang.  

Mr Giovanni.  

Marvellous.

“Downstairs?” I’d never stepped down into the basement.  The door was decorated to blend in with the hallway’s walls, making it invisible.  I moved our conversation into the kitchen as Luna answered the door, and in stepped Mr Giovanni, flanked by Bruce and…oh God…Guisseppi. No wonder Luna felt the need to zip up her jacket.

“What’s the problem?” Mr Giovanni asked Luna.

“You’re not going to believe this,” She replied, stepping aside to reveal Slobbers, “The dog’s here.”

“What’s that doing here?” Mr Giovanni’s voice, usually so urban and cool, rumbled with the bass of indignation.

“Look, it was clear the guy needed his dog.  So we got it?” Izac stepped up, his broken piece of broom in hand.  

“Did you check to see if it has a tracker?”

“We took every possible precaution,” Izac again.  I was told later that Stallion slunk away with Slobbers as Izac and Mr Giovanni verbally duked it out.

“He wasn’t free to be himself…”

“By your actions and my childe’s foolish obsession, you may have condemned us all to death. Detective Woodman is not a man with which to mess.”

“That’s another thing…this Detective, what is he…”

“What he is, is beside the point at the moment.  The dog needs to be dealt with now.”

Luna, watching on from the sidelines,  spied Stallion walk back in.

“Father’s here, and you messed up,” She jeered.  He ignored her, unusually silent.

“Dealt with? Why can’t you let this be?  The only thing that needs dealing with is that Detective.” Izac argued with Mr Giovanni, who was done with discussing and wanted answers.  He also noticed Stallion.

“Stallion, After everything we’ve been through and discussed, you still risked your unlife, the unlives of me and your siblings, by stealing the dog from Detective Woodman?”

“I’m not the one who got the dog,” He blurted out like an eight-year-old breaking a window.  He pointed at Izac. 

 I was not in the room, so I could only go on what the others said later.  For only the third time since we’d known him, and the first time on one of us, Mr Giovanni used his Domination on Stallion.  Stallion stood helpless under Mr Giovanni’s power and blankly answered his questions.

“Tell me.”
“What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.  Tell me how the dog came to be in your possession?”
“I don’t know exactly how Izac did it. He was dealing with the werewolves.”

Mr Giovanni turned to Bruce as the dog appeared at its master’s side.

“Check for trackers,” He murmured to Bruce and returned to Stallion, “If this dog has been tracked back to here, it will be your responsibility…”

“We found a chip.  Threw it in the ocean.” Stallion replied, more himself now that the command had been fulfilled.

“Where?”

“Circular quay, near the ferries.”

Mr Giovanni looked to Bruce, who shook his head.  The dog was clear.

“Do you value your unlife?” Mr Giovanni asked the room, and Izac felt it was his turn to speak.

“Are you talking to me?” 

“No.” Came back the emphatic reply.  His black eyes bore into Stallion. “Your vampire life.”

“I’m not a vampire,” Stallion replied. We all knew he had a tentative relationship with the truth, but his delusion was real. 

Mr Giovanni almost sighed.  You need to breathe to sigh, I’ve discovered.

“Stallion, I’ll make this simple.  Disconnect yourself from this dog.”

Click.

Even from the kitchen around the corner, I heard the sound of a pistol cocked. It is a unique sound. A combination of gears meshing together with a final latch holding the hammer in place. With it came the screaming of men and the rattle of automatic gunfire.  Pangea’s voice faded, and I scrambled back to the gallery.

Izac was standing where I’d left him, now with his hand inside his coat, the black grip of a pistol held loosely inside it.

“Let him make his own decision.” He said coolly, his attention on Mr Giovanni, flanked by Bruce and Guisseppi.  Gone was the gentle man we’d met four nights before, the good boy.  My blood froze in me.

“Stand down,” Giovanni said, and again, I witnessed the force of will behind his stare.  

Izac shook his head, his eyes unfocused, then refocused with a wide-eyed look of blind fear and anger.  I knew it well; I felt it right at that moment. 

“I’ve already had two people force their will on me.  I won’t have a third,” Izac growled, a low, menacing threat of voice that, until that moment, I would have never guessed was in Izac, “Forget the dog, I want to talk about the detective.”

“No!” I heard myself say from a distance of thirty years, “No guns! Guns are not talking!” I turned on Izac, ignoring the real threat of Mr Giovanni, Bruce and Guiseppi, Pangea and our neighbours, through the shared thin wall of the terrace house.

The menacing Izac melted as if realising his error.  His hand dropped away from his coat.

“You think you can wave a gun around and solve your problems.  Get out!  Get out, the lot of you!” I said as I swung around and settled my gaze on Mr Giovanni. His eyes narrowed.

“You do not get to speak to your sire like that,” He replied quietly, coldy.

“I can in my house. I have a guest here, and all this is not appropriate.” I waved at the opposing sides facing off in my gallery.
“Are you claiming domain?” He asked, almost as if changing the subject.

The question seemed so out of left field my reasoning brain had a chance to claw back some control.  The screaming diminished.

“No, of course not, but this is my home,” I stressed, hoping that a vampire’s haven meant something. 

Mr Giovanni pulled his gaze off me and back to Stallion, “Get rid of the dog, for all our sakes.” And he left, followed by a cowed Izac. I followed, closing the door behind them. 

I wanted to curl up in the corner, but the nightmare wasn’t over.  I could see it in Pangea’s awed face and Luna’s shocked one. 

“Umm, “ I started trying to gather my thoughts, “Luna, sorry to do this to you, but I’m afraid things are all going to fall apart in a moment when the police arrive to ask about the shouting.  I need to speak to Pangea downstairs.  Can you deal?”

This was a lot to ask Luna, but I had no one else I could rely on.  Unless you count Stallion?  I didn’t.

“You want me to intercept the Police?” She looked as scared as I felt for her.

“Please.” 

She stood up straight and nodded. I grudgingly left her to it and ushered Pangea down to see the basement.

The basement is not quite as wide or long as the house above. It had once contained a boiler and coal cellar but had long ago cleared and wired for electricity.  At the street end of the space, a hole was broken through the masonry and solid sandstone bedrock, forming a tunnel. I now realised where the source of the breeze had come from. 

“Wow!  It must be said about the Nosferatu – you guys work fast.”

“Yeah, so we come here?” Pangea didn’t seem to acknowledge the compliment.

“Well, it’s not what I had in mind…” I looked around the space, seeing Lenny’s art on the walls, a bar in front of the stairs up to the house and a small stage in the corner, “…but it’s a start.  I think we can work with this?”

“Right,” Pangea picked up his bag to return the way he’d…created.

“Hold on.  You’ve been witness to…a lot this evening.  What would I owe to keep it all secret?” Stolen dogs, detectives, personal squabbles and deep-seated PTSD, our drama of the evening were better than Big Brother.

“Well, what do you want me to keep quiet about?” Pangea smelt a deal, and I wondered if this one would exceed my collateral.

“All the wonderful colours and flavours, you had a ringside seat for upstairs.  None of it paints us in a favourable light.”

“You’re asking a lot there, keeping all that a secret from the other Nosferatu.” It was a tradesman giving an unfavourable estimate on repairing my rising damp. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to do that, “ I said more jovially than I felt, “No, just keep it amongst yourselves if you could.”

“If you keep your deal, I don’t see it would be a problem.”

For once, that evening, things were looking up.

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

“Do you want help with the coppers?” Stallion asked Luna after I was out of sight.  Honestly, Boofhead nee Slobbers was more useful.

 “Don’t you think you’ve done enough for one night?” Luna rounded on him,  the old adversarial banter coming naturally to her defence, “I think I’m brave enough to deal with them?”

But are you brave enough?

“But coppers…” He looked suspiciously at the door, “You’ve got to know how to handle them. I can give you a few tips.”

“Are you saying I don’t?”

You don’t…you don’t know anything.

Outside, a car pulled up in front, blue lights flashing. It was showtime.

At the efficient rap at the door, Luna opened it to two police officers, a man and a woman.
“Good evening, nice place, your?” The female officer said in a learned-by-rote mix of procedure wording and institutional friendliness.

“Ha, no,” Luna scoffed, at least teenage sarcasm came naturally to her, “Do I look like someone who could afford a place like this?”

“What’s your name?”

“Luna, why?”

“You have a last name with that?” The silent officer pulled out a notebook and started writing.

“Perra.  You didn’t answer my question.”

“We were called to a disturbance at this address,” The officer sniffed, “What is that smell?”

We, no longer being among the regular breathers, hadn’t noticed the musty smell of Pangea that lingered long after he’d left.  Luna  leapt into action.

“We recently adopted a stray, “ She gestured to Slobbers, wrinkling her nose, “ We haven’t bathed him yet.”

The officer seemed to accept that explanation, noticing Stallion for the first time.

“And you, big guy?”

“My friends call me Stallion,” He replied casually.

“Legal name?”

Stallion had to think.  I wonder if the police are taught to count the second between the simple question and the obvious lie.

“Craig…Nelson,” He finally offered, and it was dutifully written down.

“We were informed that there was screaming.  Something about a gun.” The female officer continued as her co-worker returned to the car to check the names.

“That would have been us. We were fighting about the dog.  Stallion and I don’t see eye to eye, “ Another beautiful cover.  It wasn’t a lie. 

“The caller said it sounded like a man’s voice…” The officer left the statement hanging, waiting for someone to fill in the answer.

“I can yell pretty loud,” Luna had done a marvellous job up to this point, but now that the details were coming out, she was struggling, and the officer could tell.

“Luna, where is the gun.”

“There’s no gun, look for yourself.”
“But there was a gun, wasn’t there.” Not a question but a statement. Luna didn’t answer.

“How about you, do you have a licence for a gun?” She asked Stallion.

“Me? Nah.” 

I had reached the basement door by this time and was waiting for a good moment to join the conversation.  Hopefully, when that conversation wasn’t facing the basement door, I’d like to keep secret.  As the conversation soured, it was clear I’d have to try what I could to save my siblings.  I turned on Presence and opened the door, stepping out.

“My goodness, you made good time,” I said, spotting the officer and joining Luna and Stallion at the door. 

“Good evening, are you the owner of the residence?”
“Yes, Krv Lazno,” I held out a hand to shake, “Pleased to make your aquaintance… Officer Smith?”  

“Do you have a license, sir?” Obviously, smelling more than just Nosferatu stench, the officer was determined to do things by the book.

“Yes, but I don’t have it on me. I don’t drive.”

“Did you call in the disturbance this evening?”

“No, that would have been one of our community-minded neighbours.  I have to admit our discussion over the dog did get very heated.  See, we didn’t all agree to adopt.  My young companions sometimes don’t realise the consequences of their actions, which is why I’m pleased you came by so promptly.” I looked pointedly at Stallion as my example, “Actions have consequences.”

At that moment, something in the officer relaxed. I could see it in the slope of her shoulders and how they held their notebook.  

“Yes, I  can see how these two would be a handful,” She smiled, a professional, non-personal smile, “you may want to keep those discussions down in the future.”

“Thank you for your time,” I leaned on the door as the officer returned to her companion in the squad car.  Some how the door closed, because the next thing I knew, I was slumped back to the door seeing black stars.  Beside me, Luna sat, her legs bunched up in front of her, scratching the hound’s head. 

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

Speedling through the night, Izac thought he was going to die.

Somehow, he’d found himself bundled into the back of Mr Giovanni’s car travelling towards what had been referred to as ‘The Farm’.

The two goons had said nothing to him all trip, even Mr Giovanni had said little to him besides, “Now are you going to behave?”

“This is where I die,” He said, more to himself than the ominous being beside him.

“No, you will not die today.  You are going to the farm for gun lessons.”

The Gun!  Oh god, that had been a bad idea.  He pulled the gun from his jacket with two fingers and handed it to Mr Giovanni, who took it without a word. 

“You need to understand that you do not point a gun unless you intend to shoot and hit. You also need to be aware of the consequences.”

“Consequences?” All he’d wanted to do was…what had he wanted to do?  It had seemed very important at the time. 

“You wave a gun about, it goes off, and the bullet strikes your intended target or not.  If not, does it go through a wall and hit a child in a crib? I have a feeling you would not like that outcome.”

No.  No, he wouldn’t.

“So, we will go to the farm, and you will learn how to properly use a gun.  The trip will take a few hours. While we travel, you will stay in the car, and if I say that you should not get out, stay in the car for your own sake.”

“Mr Giovanni, I had no intention of leaving the car,” Izac replied in complete truthfulness, “But now I’d like to know why?”

“Some places are not safe for us,” Mr Giovanni said thoughtfully after a pause, “Izac, I do what I do to keep the family safe…to keep us all safe.”

Keeping safe, but at what cost? Izac thought but kept that to himself.

“That’s why when I say that dog needs to disappear, you know I’m just trying to save my childe.”

“Even if that dog is one of the few things that help Stallion live a normal life.”

“It will lead him to becoming ash,”  Mr Giovanni shook his head in frustration, “That boy still thinks his human.  He’ll be the death of us all.”

Izac was starting to see that wasn’t just an expression.

Mr Giovanni’s dark eyes turned on Izac, “You too, have to realise, as a vampire, you have obligations, not just to yourself, but also to maintaining the illusion.  We call it the Masquerade, the highest of our laws.”  He spent the next twenty minutes giving Izac the same talk he gave us the night we emerged from the sand. Ultimately, it is not an overstatement to say Izac had a greater appreciation of himself and his place in this new life.

“Um…thank you Mr Giovanni, that’s more guidance than my sire ever gave me.”

“That’s alright boy.  I want you to know that I value you highly.  You are a rare individual, a vampire that can talk to werewolves.  You have a place in my organisation as long as you want it.”  

It was a comforting speech given by one whose authority and power Izac respected.  Until Izac realised that Mr Giovanni was offering him a place in his business, not a place in the family. The family he was willing to kill for.

Alone again.

He couldn’t dwell on that, there were other things to discuss, less personal things.

“ Mr Giovanni.  I still want to understand about the Detective.  Who is he?  How is he…why is he still around?  Is he like us?  What is he?”

“Detective Woodman is a renowned investigator, uncannily good at his profession.  Though it seems he may possess… supernatural tendencies, he is not kin, wizard, werewolf or fey.  Certainly, a man who can shoot himself in the head and live has something going for him. What is very clear is that he is very good at his job and will do anything to solve a case, including hiding in bushes outside an animal shelter.”

The two eyes burning out of the darkness flashed through Izac’s mind, and he shuddered.  There was no doubt in his mind that man was a danger to everything he’d come to appreciate.  Izac’s thoughts suddenly returned to the present at Mr Giovanni speaking his name.

“You have a good heart, Izac.  But you need to let go of these notions of good.  Finding the dog was a misguided act of kindness.  Sometimes, to keep what is important safe, you must kill and steal.”

“Murder is okay?” Izac asked.

“If you don’t get caught, who is to say what it is?  You say murder, I say self-defence.”

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

Luna hugged Slobbers.  Slobbers seemed to revel in the attention.  Who wouldn’t.  It was clear no matter what I felt, the dog was here to stay.  Better to make the best of it.  When I caught the dog’s attention, I reached out my hand.

“Hi Slobbers, I’m Rain.  Pleased to meet you.”

Slobbers placed his small, neat paw in my hand.  At least he was well-mannered.  Letting go of the paw, I gingerly reached up and patted the dog, a motion I am unfamiliar with and was surprised at how warm and soft his ears were.  I was enjoying the sensation, as was Slobbers by their expression when I spotted a line of crusted blood along his lower lip. 

 And just when I thought I’d dealt with all the surprises for one day.

“Stallion, you ghouled the dog?!” I lamented, glad I was already sitting on the ground, I couldn’t fall any lower.

“Yeah, I mutated him,” He crossed his arms self-defensively in front of himself.  It was a phrase that I fear will come back to haunt us, but at the moment, I was too punch drunk to register it properly.

“I didn’t want him to feel pain.” 

“Okay, okay,” The screaming hadn’t abated, only subsided momentarily.  Now it built in earnest.  I could feel the choking panic rising even though breathing meant very little these days. I hadn’t had a full-blown attack in years, but right there, surrounded by my vampire siblings, I was going under.

“That’s…okay…that’s fine…just don’t make it kin, right?  Don’t make it one of us.” And the quote from the Book of Nod came to mind.

“In need, you may feed the Beast of the field, of your Blood, and husband them:

They will grow strong and loyal, but beware of the Beast with the Beast within, 

And feed not a Hunger that may not abate.”

Of the feeding, The Book of Nod.

“I don’t know how to do that,” Stallion replied distantly, there was almost nothing but the screaming now, the fall of bodies into wet soil,  the smell of spent gunpowder.”

“Luna…the deal…in the basement, “  I don’t know why it was so important to tell her then, maybe to show there was something to be gained from the night’s chaos. 

“It’s fine, we’ll work it out,” I could see her lips say, though the sound was lost to the din in my own head.

She faced Slobbers, his wide smiling face turning to hers as if knowing she needed him.

“You are such a bad, bad idea for us,” She gave a watery smile to the dog and hugged it once more.  

I watched on passively as she pushed Slobber’s jowly face around to the amusement of the dog.  A wave of calming energy washed over my senses. The screaming’s intensity dulled under a cloud of comforting numbness. I’d never experienced anything like it before.  It was like a drug high settling the raw nerves, the soothing arms of a parent rocking a sick child to sleep.  I sank into the sensation, allowing my eyes to flutter closed and know nothing else but the rhythmic emptiness.

“Rain!  Stop it!  Close the watch!”  

Rows of decaying flowers, swarms of flies rising and settling on the wilting buds.

I opened my eyes with a start to find Luna leaning over me, her hand holding mine.  Between our entwined fingers was the open pocket watch, the black stone winking in the hall light.  I had no recollection of taking it from my pocket, but there it was.  Luna and Stallion later would say I’d flipped the watch open and closed as I used to my old puzzle box. 

“Okay.  That thing’s…weird,” Was all I could articulate of the experience.

“I’m telling you, Rain. I don’t like that thing.  I have a bad feeling about it.”

I relived the vision, the line of decaying flowers and nodded my agreement, “I believe you.”

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s not good.”

“You’re right, “ I walked the closed watch across my finger thoughtfully as I slowly felt more myself, “We…need to find out what it is.  Do you think you could research it?”

“For you?  Sure.  I’ll try Giovanni’s Library.”  She said, holding out her hand for the watch. I put it back in my pocket.

“Thank you.” It felt good to know Luna was looking into it.

“Rain, ” I looked at her quizzically, “the watch?”

“Yes.” I agreed.  She should have it, and yet it stayed in my pocket.

“Rain!  You still have the watch!”

I reached into my pocket. The watch was there.  I held it out for her to take, and she quickly thrust it into her own pocket.

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

Half a dozen townships flashed past the black car windows, none were deemed safe by Mr Giovanni and were left in their taillights.  After midnight and more than three hours out of Sydney, the car turned onto a dirt road that eventually stopped at a farmhouse. There was little to see.  An old wood verandah house, the paint chipped and faded, and in the gloom behind, a barn.

“Don’t go into the barn.” Mr Giovanni instructed as they left the car.

“I wasn’t going to, but why?”

“Farm tools and other sharp things.  Not a safe place.”

That was enough for Izac, and he scribbled in his notebook.

Good to his word, Izac was drilled on how each of the guns that Mr Giovanni kept in his standard arsenal, their use, workings and maintenance.  He fired them at targets for the neighbours to see if there were neighbours close enough to hear the gun reports.  He was quizzed on what he’d learnt until Mr Giovanni was satisfied.

“Good. Now I’d like to discuss with you your current relationship with the werewolves.”

“Mr Giovanni, they’re good people. They kept me alive for a year until I met you.”

“And you’ve never fed on people, on the kine?”

“No,” and Izac looked almost embarrassed by that fact.

“And that is what kept you alive.  The more pure you are, the more the werewolves like you, especially if you’re attuned to nature.  Tainted by magic, they can smell it on you, same for feeding on the kine.  Both, and they’ll go out of their way to kill you.”  This last was said with some personal experience, making Izac take note. 

“You’re unlife thus far has been somewhat miraculous, but be warned, not everyone has your best interests at heart.  That you can walk with werewolves is politics in kin circles. Your nature is an asset, keep it to yourself.”

Mr Giovanni returned to the car.  Their task out in the bush complete, it was time to get back and deal with family issues.

“One of my children has made a mistake, and you assisted.” A statement of fact, with no room for argument.  Izac didn’t, “I will do my best to avoid stuff-ups in the future.”

“I’m glad you think that way, as I will need you to deal with the problem.  Stallion is obsessed with the dog, but he won’t let go.  To keep out of the way of Woodman you must get rid of the dog.  It must leave or die.  I would hate to see Stallion die because of an obsession.”

“I’ll…see what I can do,” 

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

A presence with her.  In front of her a mountain of bodies.  On its pinnacle, a throne of white.  It was her throne, made for her. Around her, the flies swarmed. 

Luna was struggling, and to my shame I wasn’t the first to notice. Under her breath, though teeth clenched tight,  Stallion could hear her repeat.

“I hate it.  I hate it.  I hate it…”

“What are you saying?” Stallion asked.  We hadn’t moved from the front door, but now Stallion had joined us, Slobbers between him and Luna.

“The watch…” She confessed, “It makes you see things you want.”

“Let me have the watch. I want to see things I want,” Stallion said, holding his hand out like an expectant child.

“I didn’t see things I wanted,” I added, the dying flowers coming fresh to my mind, “I’m a Toreador, and I saw decaying roses circled by swarms of flies.  How could that be what I want?” Or did I?  This night was becoming too much to comprehend.

Stallion didn’t mention the watch again, but only a short time later, Luna caught Slobbers clawing at the pocket where the watch hid.

“I swear I will banish this shit to the bottom of the Nile!”  She exclaimed, pushing Slobbers away.

You never have to get rid of it, you know, right?

“I have to go,” She said, suddenly getting up off the floor, “I think the watch is…possessed.”

You’re fighting too hard.  Just let things happen.

“Where are you going?” She now had my attention. Still shaky, I stood.

“You don’t want to know where I’m going,”

Now I could see her struggling, the way she tilted her head as if listening to something we couldn’t hear, the way she seemed to shrink into herself like a cat readying to run.

“Little devil?” I asked, and she nodded. “Then I’m going.”

“I’m not being left behind,” Stallion added, “Besides, Slobbers could do with the walk.”

Thirty minutes later, we were in Redfern, the spire of The Catherdral of the Annunciation of Our Lady dominating the sky.  Midnight mass had let out ahead of us, conveniently leaving the church almost empty. I’ve always liked Churches. Their imposing, solid architecture reminds you of how small and fleeting you are.  It is the authority, and under its roof, you can find peace.  I stepped through the doors, sat in a pew, and took in the riot of colours and images not usually found in the Roman Catholic flavour of Church.  Of course, Stallion hung around outside with Slobbers.  Even Stallion knew enough to know the dog would not be welcome. For a moment, Luna stood poised on the threshold before finally letting her body tilt forward and step in.

How are you, little supplicant?

Terrified.

But now you’re here.

I didn’t know you’d be here.

You helped me, and I can help you, can help all of you if you just open to me. 

How?

I can give you a gift for a small task. Are you willing to accept?

I’d spotted Luna staring into space on the red carpet, bisecting the lines of pews, “What are we doing here?”

Yes, what are we doing here?  I don’t know if we should believe your word.

It’s just a gift.  To help you in this unlife.

Fine.

Good.  Happy we’ve come to an agreement.

“Do we need to talk to someone?” I asked, and the question seemed to snap her out of her trance.  She walked down the aisle to where I sat and held out her hand, returning the watch back to me. 

“I’m sorry,” She said and almost ran out of the church. 

I apologise if my vision disconcerted you. I thought it might be appealing. Before I could ask Luna what she meant, a voice insinuated itself into my mind.  

There are many reasons why that image was very unappealing. Who are you?

Someone who wishes to give you a gift.

Who did this chump think he was playing with?  Did I look like a mark born five minutes ago?  After the night I’d had I wasn’t in the mood to with a slimy disembodied voice promising the world.  

No, I don’t think so, and dropped the watch back into my pocket.

I found Luna looking thoroughly miserable standing with Stallion.

“What did you do?” 

“I refused,” I said, catching her eye, “And you know why?  Because you were sorry, I knew it was no good.  What is that thing? What do you think it wants from us?”

“I know what its gifts cost,” Suddenly, Luna’s expression shifted from miserable to furious.

“You know?”

“I paid it before.”

From Izac’s thoughts:

Kept in the dark for years, it’s no wonder when it hits the fan, it happens in spectacular fashion. One of the many things that I hate you for.

My mind is my own. You do not get to enforce your will again. It doesn’t get to and sure as shit Giovanni doesn’t get to either.

Fleeing the scene just to be reprimanded… I guess he does have a point. I have to learn how things work. Follow his guidance, at least he will show me. That is assuming what he is saying is true and he is planning to show me some guidance rather than a paddock to be chained in till dawn. For now, I’ll let him regale me with what towns to not stop in.

Don’t go into the barn, hold it like this, safety off, trigger discipline. I’ve dabbled in the past, but I suppose it good for a refresh.  That Guiseppe is unnerving though…

Werewolves: to keep in good graces

 Don’t like magic,

Don’t feed on humans,

I guess si-

—

I get where I am now. A tool. Something he can use to further his own goals. I wonder how he sees the others. His children? I suppose. He is “always looking for fresh talent.”

As much as I don’t trust him, he has taught me more in one night than you ever did Kat. I don’t know what to do now. I have to get this dog off the scene, and in no way am I intent on killing it. An old relative? Another pound? I would but that thing he did with it the other night has got me wondering if I have limited options now.

Now I know where things stand, I have a more stable ground to begin to move on. I am holding on by a tether to a much larger animal, and it can lose me whenever it wants.

Breathe, reset, begin again.

I’ve got papers to read through, and debt to soon resolve.

“The beast within offers promise and release, though behind its words hide vile meaning.”

Fuck…_______________________

From the thoughts of Luna:

“Are you brave enough?”

Answer the door.

Answer the door.

Answer the door.

Who’s knocking?

Her dorm was decked out top to bottom in posters. Anything she could find for cheap. It didn’t

matter if she knew the subjects or bands being displayed or not. It gave the room life. Some

nights she fell asleep with the background noise of blasting music with the memory of blinding

lights or here, where the walls are just as covered in neon.

The knocking came harder.

That wasn’t a dream?

Her hands are shaking.

“Can we come in?”

“Is your name —?”

“I guess you’ll come in anyway.”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“We got a call about a disturbance.”

“We have come to notify you-“

Back then she hadn’t cried. She thanked the officers and bid them farewell. They were

messengers then, Hermes in his winged shoes. Now they were a threat. A threat to her friends,

a threat to her life and a threat to stability. It scared her. When Rain saved her from her own

fumbling she could have cried.

No one has ever saved her before.

The pieces of herself she always picked up. Name it, she was her only savour. The world

could break her spirit, break her work ethic, break her happiness. She never cared because it

was only her to collect the fragments of herself.

If she was her old self, she’d consider starting anew. New face, new name, new everything.

She’s done it before. She could do it again.

And yet she sits here, in a neighbourhood she never belonged to with no more tethers to her

old life but a name and an abandoned career. A loner of her own making against her own

wishes, with the aid of other’s actions.

For the first time in all her life she felt like she needed to pray or confess, or both.

She needed to find a church.

She needed to pray.

She needed to pray.

She needed to pray.

…

“How are you, little supplicant?”

Luna should have known. The church was always a cold, deprived place. This was no

different. This was no god.

It was her bad luck, wasn’t it? She was a magnet for all that was unpleasant in the world. A

breaker of love, a ruiner of faith, an Empress’s pawn.

“I accept your offer.”

They will surely hate her now. Despise what she’s done. She deserves it, right?

The one sitting atop the throne is always lonely.

Aura colours and their meanings (a work in progress)

Black: darkness, often veins or vines. Diablerist.

Brown: bitter

Dark Blue: 

Dark Green: Envy

Dark Red: Lust, passion

Gold: Spiritual

Grey: Depression

Light blue: Calm

Light green: Distrustful

Orange: Anxious

Pink: Compassionate

Purple: Aggressive

Red: Anger

Rose:

Silver: Sad

TV static: agitated

Vermillion: Pleasure, happiness.

Violet: Excited

White: Innocence, Earnest

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. 

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

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.

The Crowbar, Leichhardt 10.45 pm 7 hours until sunrise

Both Izac and Stallion were silent on the car trip back. I can’t say I was in the mood for chatting after meeting up with Detective Woodman, but they both seemed more than just thoughtful. Stallion stared out the window as if he’d already given up hope. To see Boofhead and know that he was in the control of Detective Woodman was a harsh blow.  Stallion was a man of action. I’d seen him drive himself to a fighting frenzy before now.  To watch Boofhead leave, to do nothing to stop it…it made me worry what was going on in his mind.

Izac was hungry.  He’d still not fed properly since the incident with the Hurricane. He’d also committed himself to the mission to save Boofhead, and I wondered what his ‘good boy’ sentiment felt about failing.

The silence in the car gave me time to reflect on my time with Detective Woodman in the animal shelter.  I compared what I’d seen in his aura, the auras of the staff and even Boodhead, to what I knew about human nature.  The more I mulled it over, the more I became concerned that the Detective was obsessed and would not be swayed or put off his hunt.  We had to talk about what we wanted to do as a group.

When we reached Leichhardt, Stallion leapt from the car, mumbled something about needing time to think and wandered off towards Pyrmont and home. 

“Stallion?  Take care, okay?  Come back and talk to us before you do something…” …crazy was what I wanted to say.  I kept that little descriptor to myself.  He waved in acknowledgement but didn’t turn back.

“Yeah, I’ve got things to do too, “Izac also sheepishly left the car, not making eye contact, “I’ve got your numbers, right? See ya later?”

“Have you got our numbers?” I checked, holding him a moment longer, trying to think of something I could say, “We have to talk…”

“And we will, just not tonight,”  Izac said, and he, too, walked off eastward towards the City.

I admit I stood a moment. There must be something I could do, should do to bring them back.  At that moment, I felt an arm curl itself around mine.  I clasped it like a life preserver before turning to see Luna, watching the two boys leave. It was okay. I wasn’t alone.

“Mr Giovanni,” I left thoughts of Stallion and Izac behind and turned to our adopted sire, “We need to talk about the woods man.”

“By all means, to the office?” He suggested, and we followed him through the bar and upstairs, closing the door firmly behind us.

“I know you disapprove of my going into the animal shelter with Detective Woodman.  I chose to see how others perceived him and how he behaved in an attempt to understand him a little more.”  I then outlined what I had seen, explaining what I had deduced from the auras.

“What you fail to consider is that time is our greatest asset,” Mr Giovanni finally said, brushing imaginary lint off his full mahogany desk with inlaid leather, “I suggest you do as I will, lay low and wait.”

Damn him if he wasn’t right.  We’re Vampires, we have forever, potentially.  We can just sit quietly and let the Detective run himself ragged, looking for clues until he is sacked, retired, or died. The latter was preferable.

“You know he’s not going to let this lie,” I said, pacing the floor before the desk, “He’ll worry at it like Boofhead a bone.

“What evidence does he really have?  A notepad? I admit I wish I had acquired it when I had the chance, but there it is.  Our faces?”

“And a chip on his shoulder, “I added, “He’s obsessed. It’s like some…spiritual thing to him.” I remembered the gold aura and shuddered.

“If we only knew a little more about him.  You said he tried to commit suicide once.  What set that off?  He is depressed and bitter, but about what? What does he do with himself during the day?”

“Look after a dog now,” Luna mentioned, which gave me pause. 

“He did seem to genuinely like the dog.” I recognised the flicker of pink in his aura as compassion when he’d looked at Boofhead.

“Well, you good to your food too,” Luna added with a spark of mirth.  Trust her to bring me back down to the ground. 

“Time is our greatest asset,” I repeated, trying to contemplate forever, “I don’t know if I know how to lay low.”

“Well, I intend to spend some time at the morgue.  With the burden of childe, I have left it to Madeline for far too long.”

“I still have the exhibition to organise, and I still want to meet other vampires, especially the owners of Pyrmont.”

“You could work at your own domain?” Mr Giovanni suggested.  I shook my head in frustration. 

“Little fiefdoms.  I want to transcend domains.  Bring kin together across Sydney.  The world.”
“So, take over as Prince.”

“What? No.” However, I had to admit the idea made me smile.  

“You know Sydney has had worse Princes than Sarrasine.  Not during my time, but it has been known.”

“Oh?” I sat down, feeling a lesson coming on.  History was always my favourite subject.

“I don’t recall the previous Prince’s name, long gone by the time I arrived.  I know Prince Sarrasine removed them sometime in 1879 but didn’t claim the title of Prince until sometime in the 1950s.”

I sat back in my chair.  That was a long time without a leader, at least in name, if not in reality.  I wondered about the circumstances that would bring about such a gap. Did Sarrasine have to rely on time to deal with the competition before they could claim the title?  No, it wouldn’t have been time that took out those particular enemies.  

While I meditated on the history of the Sydney leadership, Mr Giovanni continued his lecture on other systems of Vampire society.

“The Succubus Club is a good place for those who don’t believe in domains. They are a kingdom to themselves. You could find a place for yourself amongst them.”

The mention of the Succubus Club caught my attention, and I instantly thought of Brendan preparing for Miss Divine Interventions’ debut.  I needed to talk to him, and soon. 

“Of course, there is also the Incarno, though they’re little more than rumours. They are ancient vampires who reject Jihad and try to live and let live, where it is up to them.” I could see why Mr Giovanni was chosen as our adoptive sire.  Once he settled in, he loved the sound of his own voice.

“Jihad?” Luna asked, echoing my thoughts.  Being an actual student of history, the phrase held more significance to her than to me.

“A shadow war. Where grandsires manipulated grandchilde to work against their parents.  It is a war spread over thousands of years in a million different ways, changing the course of the world.  The Incarno reject all the above, despising politics and those who think to make themselves powerful.”

I tried to imagine a rumoured group within a supposed fictional one.  It would take dozens of generations to forget the reality and choose to believe the lie.  At that moment, I glimpsed how long we really had as Vampires. 

My meandering thoughts led me away from the conversation, for when I returned to it, Luna and Mr Giovanni were in deep discussions about their beasts.

“I hate it.  Sometimes I can’t think for it whispering at me,” Luna admitted.  I’d seen her struggle with her emotions on more than one occasion and was intrigued.

“It’s a partnership, right?  Both sides need to make a little compromise to succeed,” I said, adding in my own, though admittedly, brief experience.

“What are you talking about, Rain,” Luna turned on me as if she’d never heard anything so ridiculous, “There’s no partnership, no compromise.  It uses us.  It’s a constant battle for control.”

“But, it’s… us, right?” I tried to reason it out and comprehend the conflict in our experiences: “A harder, more animalistic version, I admit, but a version of you nonetheless.”

“She’s a bitch!” Luna spat, and I felt the force of her words like a blow.  I went to quip back a joke about her last name and it being apt when Mr Giovanni replied.

“The beast encourages us, gives us power and makes us who we are.  However, if you follow it too much, it will take over and make you something less.  You saw the results with your own eyes only a few months ago.”

The mad vampire the Prince had sent us to deal with.  Suddenly, I was reminded of the sensation of the handgun firing in my hand, the smell of cordite, and the sense of victory when the bullet struck true.  As if summoned a voice, my voice insinuating itself into my thoughts.

How many would you give to save your mother?  A detective?  Siblings?  Innocents?  Tell me, how much to keep her safe?

What?  How? What would you know? You’re me!  I replied silently. She had been on my mind of late.  It was only natural that He should pick up on it.

I sit, and I watch, passively taking in everything while you actively blunder about.  I see more than you.

Now, you mention this?!  We need to speak on this later! I replied harshly, disconcerted by how easily the beast dominated my thoughts.  Thankfully, the conversation took a fraction of a second, and Mr Giovanni was still preaching the same sermon.

“One must be careful how you play with the beast lest you become one.”

He got up from behind his desk, silently communicating that our discussion was over.

“There is one more topic I’d like to discuss with you, Mr Giovanni.  Alone if I could?” I glanced at Luna apologetically.  She didn’t seem to mind, having grown bored with the discussions long before me.

“Suit yourself. I’ll be in the bar if you want me.”

“And what is this private concern of yours?” Mr Giovanni sat back down in his chair with ill-concealed impatience. 

“Avel, my mother.  This is not a life I would have chosen if I had known she was still here. She should be free to move on if she can. You, yourself, said she could be used by others, which concerns me.  I want to know how to give her the strength to move on.”  I said in a rush.  I did say she had been on my mind of late.

“There are worse things than hanging around with ancestors,” He replied as if this arrangement were some sort of blessing.

“But as her…anchor?…tether?…fetter, if something happens to me, she is adrift and prey to all the horrors the Book of Nod describes, and I’d never wish for that to happen to her.”

He sat back in his chair, contemplating all the esoterica he had stored away over a long unlife.

“You must understand, a level of satisfaction must be obtained before a wraith will even want to leave their fetter.” It seemed the old tales of ghosts (wraiths, such a vile word) having unfinished business was true.  

“I don’t think you understand. She has made you her fetter because she loves you so much.”

It was fortunate at that moment that kin do not need to breathe. I do not have memories of a mother’s love. This was what she could give.  It was a blessing.  

“So,” I said, finding it hard to control my voice at the moment, “You suggest the solution is a long, happy Vampire style life.”

“Precisely,” Mr Giovanni said, the beleaguered teacher who had finally got through to his thickest student, “At least a long Vampire life.”

I left the office feeling…loved and determined to find a way to build this relationship that I had been ignorant of for thirty-two years.   It was with that same feeling that I spotted Luna pensively sitting alone at the bar.  Turning on Auspex, I wondered as her dark aura glowed violet with rose edges.  Whatever she contemplated had her excited and in a generous mood. 

“What’s on your mind?” I asked, coming up behind her and ordering another ’red’.  

“Hmm, nothing much,” She said cheerily, and I found her mood infectious.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mr Giovanni, a dark blue cloud of suspicion roiling around his shoulders.  He called for Bruce and Guiseppi to meet in his office. I wondered what that was about.

“What do you want to do?” I turned back to Luna.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it seems to me we do whatever Mr Giovanni wants to do, or what Rain wants to do and just now what Stallion wanted to do. But, when do we get to do what Luna wants to do?”

My drink arrived, and I pulled out my credit card.  Luna drags my hand back.

“Never near home,” She said, paying with cash.

“Well, where can I use it…on you?”

“You’re going to spend your money on me?”

“The Prince’s money, my money…” I shrugged, hoping to look nonchalant and casual. 

“I could do with some new clothes.” It was an obvious choice.  She currently owned two outfits: the off-the-shoulder t-shirt and jeans from our first night and the red gown she wore to our introduction to the Prince. Also, I know clothes. They are the first and simplest way we let the world know who we are or who we want to be.

“Clothes,” Instantly, I was on my phone looking for outlets still open for late-late-night shopping. 

Mr Giovanni returned from his office, his aura an unusual…rosey hue, Bruce and Giovanni following. Maybe it was…that time of month.

“I’m off to the morgue.  What are you two up to for the rest of the night?” He asked as we met him at the door.

“We are going clothes shopping for Luna,” I announced, calling an Uber.

“Good, but what do you intend to use for money, Luna? You know my offer of Hostess still stands.”

One, I was insulted.  That was my job. Two, we had credit.

“And when you run out of the Prince’s generous credit?” His rosy aura dipped a little, and I realised he was feeling generous and wanted some way to contribute.

“I’ll think about it,” Luna accepted his offer with as much grace as she could at the moment, and we watched him leave.

I won’t bore you with a blow-by-blow account of our shopping expedition.  At almost midnight, it was clear that our selection of stores was limited.  Still, there are one or two twenty-four-hour outlets, one in The Queen Victoria building in the heart of the City.  We bought a few pieces: a modern corset top, smokey black jeans, and sneakers.  Stylish and practical.  I persuaded her to mix it up with a few scarves and shawls, bright and cheerful, that could go anywhere she felt she needed the colour.  In a pawnbroker’s, I found her a pair of lovely earrings made of cracked red glass in the shape of hearts.  My eyes were drawn to an exquisite masterwork gentleman’s fob watch and chain.  The white metal was hand-hammered, and the inlay decoration obsessively worked.  To my eyes, it was a flawless piece of the silversmith’s art, and I couldn’t draw them away.

“You like the watch then?” said the pawnbroker, noting my interest. I feigned a sight interest, and he pulled it out of the case, leaving a dusty patch behind.

“We’re here for the young lady…” I paused as the watch was laid in my hand, and I felt the weight of the thing like a stone on my soul.  Flipping it open, I could find no maker’s mark, not even for the watch workings, though I did notice a dark, uncut stone winking up at me from its centre.  The tag said fifty dollars, a criminal steal, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to bargain.

“Ostentacious…” I said, as if it were a detraction, “It’s not the modern aesthetic at all.  Probably keeps terrible time.”

“Look, I could do with the space,” The pawnbroker weakened, “I could give you twenty percent off?”

The thing enraptured me.  It was too beautiful to be collecting dust in a pawnshop.  At the same time, there was something thrilling about it, like walking into a haunted house or playing a game of Ouija with friends.  I paid the forty dollars eagerly.  

Luna noted me staring at the watch while at a late-night barber.  It is a universal truth: vampires need to get their hair cut.  As the barber tamed my hair, I contemplated the dark gem.  From somewhere deep in my usually silent body, a voice gurgled and roiled.  A presence made themselves known. Luna pressed her hand over the watch, closing the case.

“Don’t…don’t look at it. Don’t open it.” She said I could feel her shudder through her cold fingers. I put it away.

“Why?  What is it?” I asked when I felt the barber wasn’t listening.

“I don’t know.  It’s wrong.  Bad.”

“It’s fascinating!” I said a little too eagerly for her.

“Take this seriously.  I…. it’s dangerous.”

For the sake of our faultless night out shopping, I put the watch out of my mind (for the time being) and suggested we stop at one of our local watering holes for a drink.  I also admitted I still wanted to contact other kin in our area including those whose domain we lived.  Mr Giovanni had shown he wasn’t interested in expanding our knowledge on this subject, so it was up to us.  

The Quarryman’s is one of several pubs in our area and one we’d yet to explore.  I turned on my Auspex as soon as I entered, looking for the pale auras of kin.  Several ghosts, shadows of people from the past, hung around the space, repeating the moves they had made in life.  I nodded to a couple, but they ignored my efforts as if unaware I existed.  We walked through the whole place, from the bar to the roof garden, and I saw two likely candidates.  

One was a young, upwardly mobile-looking chap with a long flopping hair down the middle of his head, the sides shaved close. I figured he was like us, a neonate with little information to offer.  The second was an individual sitting alone on the roof, his hood and scarf not quite covering a hideously deformed face.  It didn’t take much to see this was a member of the Nosferatu, a group I was keen to make some inroads with.  

“Could we get three of whatever that gentleman is drinking?” I asked a passing waiter before joining the man at his table.  I pushed forward one of the drinks.

“I’m Rain, and this is Luna…” 

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around,” He interrupted, draining his glass and taking the offered one.  We had been in the house a month. I’d been so focused on building up the haven I was now worried we’d left this task until too late. 

“We don’t know many of our kind and want to make a few friends in the local area.”

“Friends?” He snorted a sarcastic laugh into his glass, “Who?”

“Well, you to start with.  Do you have a name we could know you by?”

“What’s it to you?” The fabled favour for information.  As we had almost nothing to offer, I was willing to take what scraps he’d throw us.

“Well, you know our names; it only seems fair.  Besides, if I do you a favour, who would I ask for?”

He thought for a moment, “Sparrow.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sparrow.  We would be interested in doing a small favour for friends.”

“You want to establish yourselves?” 

“Somewhat, “ I tried to be ambiguous. I didn’t want to be seen stepping on toes, “Really just trying to get a lay of the land.”

“So, you tell me.  What are you wanting?  Independence, influence or connections?”

“Influence, “ I answered, though in truth, all three sounded good.

“Connections,” Luna answered for herself.

“Both for a small favour?  We need to talk somewhere more private. Follow me.” 

We left our drinks and followed him out of the Quarryman’s and down Harris Street to one of the redeveloped warehouses that make up the area.  Down an ancient alley only wide enough to walk, he led us to a service way for Sydney’s underground train system.  A solid-looking door opened onto a flight of metal stairs heading down into darkness.  Twenty minutes later, Sparrow led the way into the forgotten places under the streets of Sydney.  The stairs ended in a high-ceilinged antechamber full of Nosferatu.

“Welcome to the Warrens,” Sparrow said as he joined the collected throng of maybe fifty Nosferatu.  

“They want to do some favours,” Sparrow eloquently introduced us, and I realised for the first time the enormity of the task.  You didn’t do favours for one Nosferatu, you did favours for all. 

“Well?” One subjectively older-looking individual barked at us from the throng present, “What the fuck do youse want?”

“To make friends and influence people,” I said, automatically. A little bit of a default setting for me.

Laughter, the sort you’d imagine old paper bags used for carry used cigarettes in would make echoed around the room. 

“Nah, really.  What do you want with us?”
I rephrased myself, “To gain the goodwill of fellow kin and kine alike and help contribute to decision-making in our community?”

“Oh, you really meant that,” The elder replied, somewhat surprised, “Well, what can you do?”

Ah, I was not prepared for a job interview.  So, I pivoted.  If I can’t show that I’m worth something to them, at least make them think I’m not much harm either.

“To be honest and to use your own vernacular, fuck-all, but I’m keen and willing.”

“You know the Prince.” It wasn’t a question.

“We’ve been introduced,” I referred to Luna and myself, but he shook his head.

“Yeah, but you’re the favoured one.  You’ve met him in private.”

So they know who the Prince meets alone. Of course, Paul the Nosferatu picked me up.  I didn’t look at Luna, but I was suddenly aware she had no idea what he was talking about.

“I have.”

“And you have that bar at Leichhardt.”

“That’s our sires, not ours.”
“But you could get us in.  We could come through the sewers.  Some place we could enjoy ourselves, have a night life? A little nip and tip?”

“Not there, but, “And now I did turn to Luna.

Her eyes shone bright with excitement “Maybe we can have our own place?” She said, “An investment for us.”

“Yeah, maybe something local that all kin could come.” A vision started forming in my mind.  I needed a pen and paper.

“Do you agree?”

“Agreed.”

Recollection by Izac, Pups, Promises, and Philosophy

“Apologies come in all forms. I find righting the wrong to be the most personal.”

I allowed that man to take the dog and denied Stallion the chance to act of his own accord. The beast wasn’t giving him one either, but it does not care for his state of mind, only its own desire. It was settled, I needed to recover the dog.

I would apologize to the old man for taking his property, were it not for the fact that he is much more involved with the detective than previously thought. How long has their feud been going for? A baseline human would stand no chance snooping in the circles of vampires, so either he is incredibly skilled, or there is more to the maniac than just that unnerving smile. There is more to this, and his lack of disclosure to his “get” as he calls us raises questions as to his intentions.

—

Mother is well, as I assumed she’d be. Forever over that pot. She and the others were my only chance to find the canine. I had no clue it would be so quick though, not to mention loud. Howls echoing into the night with the return call informing us of his location, Mother assured me she would have Stallion’s hound in the next night.

“Wandering at the University of Sydney” is what Mother said. Why would it be there? Was it alone? More pressing: Was it a trap? That mad detective is still out there…

As I suspected, nothing is free in the city, and now I owe Mother a favour. Not for the first time, but I am happy to help her as I can. I told her of my new associates. Upon suggesting they had a great capacity to remain “human”, I was greeted by Mother’s classic motherly stare. I know, either I’m naive or a hopeless optimist. In either case, after borrowing the phone, I agreed to meet Stal at the Chinese Garden just past the overpasses.

—

Being constantly followed is concerning. More so by the dwellers in the sewers. Unsettling to look at but they seem to be up for a chat should you tap on the right grate. Peddlers in information, this one seeming very interested in my association with Mother Pasta and her pack. For the first time in a while, the urge to dispose of my shadow flashed in my mind. I must be slipping. I need to be careful.

—

The Gardens turned out to be Pyrmont Bridge instead. Either Stallion could hear my concern about being followed over the phone, or he saw it prudent to find me sooner rather than later. We spent a time at the harbour, I explained the situation and he seemed thankful for my actions.

The nature of our existence wandered into the conversation and from anyone, it came from Stal. For someone I took to be disinterested in philosophy it was a welcome surprise. He posed the idea of us just being a mutated human, rather than any sort of malevolent monster.  On such a topic, talk of the beast came up. First Luna now Stallion as well. It’s a curse to be constantly barraged by its whisperings, its not right. I offered him the same offer as Luna, should he require it.

With the sunrise not too far away, we headed for Rain’s place to wait out the day. I offered to hold his hand for the walk and got quite the rise out of him. Its moments like that that remind me how we can return to a “normal” life. I waited as long as I dared watching the horizon, there are days part of me misses the dawn.

—

We spent the day to ourselves, I reset as I always do and got ready for the next night. Back at Mothers, I went in alone, as I agreed. Stallion asked me about my associates. It was only fair to tell him. That said in a busy street does dissuade any potential outburst.

As Mother promised, she had Boofhead. After my usual relentless thank yous and appreciation, she asked a question of me: “Have you heard anything about a missing girl?” I hadn’t and was willing to help on the spot, but she assured me that wasn’t necessary, at least not yet. I just hope none of this is in relation to the Detective.

Returning to Stallion, he quickly fell into what I assume was conversation with his companion. Barks, yips, the drinking of his blood? He assured me it was an anaesthetic, though the dog did yelp when he removed the ID chip from the back of his neck. It’s reassuring to see that I am not the only one who is not fully versed in their abilities. We disposed of the chip and headed back to Rain’s to wait the night.

—

Stal is in the other room right now, spending some bonding time with Boofhead. Sounds like he is going through commands and the like. He treats Boof like it’s the only thing in the world to him. I should tidy the place a little before I leave: a sweep, clean the paw prints and such. We are going to head back to the Crowbar on the sundown, and I have some questions that need answering from the old man.

“Compassion, Empathy, Love. Without these we shed our humanity, till we are nought but the beasts we seek to restrain.”

Righting the wrong is the most personal apology, I won’t forget that. I think I get what you went through now.

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.

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

Aura colours and their meanings (a work in progress)

Black: darkness, often veins or vines. Diablerist.

Brown: bitter

Dark Blue: 

Dark Green: Envy

Dark Red: Lust, passion

Gold: Spiritual

Grey: Depression

Light blue: Calm

Light green: Distrustful

Orange: Anxious

Pink: Compassionate

Purple: Aggressive

Red: Anger

Rose:

Silver: Sad

TV static: agitated

Vermillion: Pleasure, happiness.

Violet: Excited

White: Innocence, Earnest

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. 

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

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.

The Crowbar, Leichhardt 8.45 pm 9 hours until Sunrise

It started a very quiet night at the Crow Bar. We bought a round of drinks and found an out-of-the-way table to chat about Stallion’s grand plans to find his beloved hound.  I think I’ve made it quite clear I am ambivalent about the dog.  Stallion’s feelings are evident, but can the same be said for Boofhead?  What if he’s landed on his feet with a great family that has made him their fur baby?  Could our home of self-centred kin compete?  Besides, I’m just starting to get the house just as I like it, and muddy dog prints, drifts of dog hair, and clawed furnishings are not my decore aesthetic.

 I was sitting back, only half listening with a Glenfiddich spiced ‘red’.  He was sitting on a ‘Spiritualist’, which I can only assume is something he had picked up in the VIP lounge.  Luna was going virgin with an infused creaming soda. That’s not to say hers was from a virgin, though that taste, too, can be catered for here.  Stallion was flaunting his ability to drink whatever he liked and settled for a Jack and Coke.  

Sigh.

I watched as our latest acquisition returned from the bar with a magnificently bedazzled cocktail.  The Hurricane was in a tall ice-filled glass the colour of sunrise and (from the smell) had more rum than fruit juice.  Izac has proven to be something of a contradiction. Friends with werewolves, spending years under the radar of vampire society with almost no idea how to be a vampire. I wondered how he had survived. I toasted the ‘Good boy’ and watched him settle down at the table. 

As I was saying, Stallion had gathered us to review his plan. Not there was a plan.  There was an intent, a vision…a dream of having Boofhead back in his life, but nothing else.  He hadn’t even asked Bruce what shelter the dog had been dropped at.  Now was the time.  As Izac sipped his fruit punch through a novelty straw, Mr Giovanni called over Bruce.  It must have been then that an empty bucket discretely arrived under our table.  You have to admire Mr Giovanni for his forethought.

“I’m afraid we’re going to need you to tell us where you dropped off the dog after the clean-up job for Stallion,” Mr Giovanni said with grave seriousness as if talking about one of his coroner clients. 

“I don’t think that a good idea,” Bruce started, and Mr Giovanni waved him off.

“I’m afraid the subject won’t rest.  We’ll look into it from here.”

Bruce gave us the address.  I looked it up on my phone as Izac took two more sips of his drink before his brow creased.  

I sighed and turned my phone to the others.

“It’s a pest exterminator, not a dog shelter.”

“Excuse me,” Izac said casually before walking back through the crowd to the toilets.  

“A pest exterminator?” Stallion repeated, confused and upset with the news, “Boofheads not a pest.”  He chugged his drink like an experienced binge drinker without any sign of queasiness.  

“And all the way out at Darling Point.  There would have been a dozen shelters he could have dropped him off between there and Campbelltown.”

“I suppose he was spreading the evidence wide.” Mr Giovanni called over another staff member and asked if they could see to the inevitable mess in the men’s toilets.

“Wouldn’t it look dodgy when they went to scan the microchip, and the dog’s address was two hours across town? The dog was microchipped, wasn’t it?”

“Of course, Boofhead was.  What sort of responsible dog owner would I be?”

There was a small commotion from the back door and a wail of distress from Izac.

“Rain!”

I nodded and put down my glass.  At least I didn’t have to hold anyone’s hair back this time.  

“Coming!”

Buttoning up my suit jacket, I smoothly moved through the crowd to the double emergency doors at the back of the club.  A couple were pointing to a bloody handprint on one of the doors.

“Looks real, doesn’t it? Tomato sauce.” I said casually, wiping it off with a handkerchief and pushing the bar to escape into the night.  

Just outside, a small group of eight diehard smokers stood staring at a figure madly scrambling around the industrial garbage bins. In the slanting street lights, a wet crimson river of blood ran down Izac’s shirt front, still dripping onto the asphalt. It looked like he’d murdered in a fit of madness, a madness that still held him. 

“Rain!  Quick! Help me find something on four legs,” He said as I joined him at the dumpsters.  It didn’t help that his mouth was a bloody pit of gore and his eyes white lamps in the gloom.

“Ur…really?” I start looking in the same places he’s just looked as the eight smokers started pulling out phones, “Here, kitty…kitty…?”

“No!  The people!” Izac gestures with a bloodied hand.

“Right,” Now on firmer ground, “I can do that.”

It was nothing to drag the attention of the smokers to me as Izac found his first quarry, a screaming feral cat.  Thankfully, he carried it out of sight. Another angry kitty made a second snack, and he left them side by side in the alleyway.  Then, as he started regaining control, he smelled something familiar.  Later, he would describe it as supernatural, like the smell of nature, earthy musk and motor oil.

All I hear is “Rain!” from around the corner, and I know I am needed elsewhere.

“You’ve been sweethearts.  Remember, I’m here twice a week.  Check with the desk for my dates,” I signed off and raced after Izac, sending the group a quick message.

FYI. IZAC’S ON THE TRAIL OF SOMETHING.  

NEED BACK UP? Mr Giovanni replied promptly, making me think he was waiting for my message.

I’d caught up with Izac by that time, still wild-eyed and bloody but now sniffing the air like a hound.

“Mr Giovanni’s asking if you want any help?” I told him as he turned into the breeze, trying to catch the scent.

“Can you tell him I’m really sorry about the mess? I’ll clean it up.” Izac looked around, ashamed and shocked. With a hand still grimy with blood and now cat hair, he tried to wipe the blood off his shirt.  It was like watching a child trying to clean up the mess after eating too much chocolate.

“He has people fixing that right now, “ I tried smiling reassuringly and texted the others to come along, “You called. What’s up?”

“Can you smell something?”  He started sniffing the air again, moving to the end of the alley.

Sniffing and failing to smell anything besides garbage and blood, I turn on my Auspex and let the colours fill the night.  I saw two cats lying side by side, their unconscious minds lighting the night pale green, orange and purple.  I found myself surprised he didn’t drain them. He really was a ‘good boy’.  Glancing in the direction he faced, I saw an intense dark blue aura blotting out the distant view.  It’s like a fog of dark light, nothing solid, but still dense. 

“There’s something…powerful in that direction,” I inform him as Stallion and the others join us.  Mr Giovanni had a flask of ‘red’ from the bar.  He handed it to Izac, who didn’t take it.

“What’s happening?” Mr Giovanni asks, lowering the flask.

“There’s a powerful presence ahead,” I replied as Izac moved towards the blue aura.  Stallion gestured to the air, and a pigeon fluttered sleepily out from a tree.  Now, that would have been handy a moment ago.  They briefly conversed in cooes and bobs before the bird flew ahead.

We followed, sauntering through back alleys without a care.

“Haven’t you ever gone hunting?” Izac complained. 

“No, “ I reply simply.

The aura intensified.  Bright streaks of light green play through the dark blue. An intense curiosity to discover what this thing was overshadowed my frustration at my lack of aura knowledge. The pigeon returned and cooed at Stallion.

“What?  A dog-like thing that smells like what people get into?” Stallion translated. A werewolf who works at a mechanic?  What could it be doing here?  We moved on.

When we reached the last corner, Izac peered around and spotted a silver-furred dingo in the middle of the empty backstreet.  Steel blue eyes lock with Izac’s, and the dark blue aura turns white with… innocence …good intentions?  Izac stepped out, I followed, and the aura dissolved into a mess of anxious TV static.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, “ I said, letting Izac take the lead, “I’m with Izac.”

“Are you all right?” Izac asked, followed by sounds from Stallion, which seemed to be the same message in growls and yips.

The sclera of the dingo’s eyes glowed like computer monitors assessing the situation.

“Why are you here?” A voice, like primitive text-to-speech, issued from the dingo.

“I smelled you from blocks away. What are you doing here?” Izac responded, staying right where he was.  Luna stayed behind the corner. Her little paranoid devil must have screamed in her ear.

“Surviving,” The dingo replied.

“Do you have a clan?”

At this question, the medium-sized wild dog form disappeared as a four-metre bipedal mechanoid unfolded before us. It was magnificent and terrifying and everything I’d ever wanted. 

“They did this to me,” The voice said blandly.  

“Who?”

“The Dreamers.”

I looked behind to Mr Giovanni, who nodded silently. Later, he would inform us that the Dreamers were wizards who used magic and technology to create marvels like our friend.  Some were known as the Syndicate.  Right now, he said nothing, and in a lull in the conversation, I made my usual friendly gesture.

“Look, I’m Rain.  Do you have a name?”
“Teeth of Titanium.”

“Was it the Syndicate who made you this?” Mr Giovanni asked.

“Not them, but others like them,” Teeth of Titanium seemed to have recognised the Alpha in our little pack, “Do I have permission to move through your domain?”

“To do what?”

“Survive.”

“Do you know my clan?” Mr Giovanni asked, and the mechanoid sniffed the air.

“Leeches,” The generic and unfair name for all vampires. We are all more than what we eat.

“If you have no clan,” Stallion moved up, speaking in English, “You could have safe harbour with us.”  My sentiment exactly, and I swung back to the giant to hear its response.

“I wish only to pass through.”
“Then you have my permission,” Mr Griovanni granted.  

“Good luck,” Izac said as the mechanoid started the impossible folding back into the form of the silver dingo.

“Good boy,” Teeth of Titanium said as it walked past.

“Do you know our Izac?” I asked, wanting to keep Teeth of Titanium just a little longer in the hope they may reconsider their decision to leave.

“He does not smell like you.  He is a good boy.” 

“Is that because he feeds on animals?”

“I do not know.  He does not smell like you.” Did I detect a little menace in the aura?  I didn’t push my luck and let Teeth of Titanium pass, heading southwest towards Summer Hill.

“A good boy,” I hear Izac scoff as if embarrassed by his title. 

“It should be a point of pride, not embarrassment, “I said as the others joined us on the empty road, “It kept you alive.”

“Yeah, “ Izac smiled, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, “I love being a good boy.”

“Rain, must I remind you again, do not mess with werewolves,” Mr Giovanni almost lamented as if talking to a very stupid child.  He acts as if being friendly were a vice.

“I was very civil to the impressive, intelligent and reasonable being that was Teeth of Titanium.”

Giving up on me, he once more thrusts the flask at Izac, “Drink up.”

Izac shied away from the human ‘red’ on offer.

“Maybe not,” I suggest, “If he wishes to stay a good boy.”

“And I do.”

That settled that.  Still, he was starving. 

“What do werewolves eat?” Izac asked, obviously a few meals short of the gnawing hunger that is a vampire’s status quo.

“Us,” Mr Giovanni replied instantly, quickly reinforcing the message.

“There’ll be lots of dogs where we’re going. You can take your pick.” Stallion took his opportunity to make an ally in the dognapping plan.

“Hey, yeah!”

Now, the two of them were set on this mission.

We walked back to the bar.  I rang the 24-hour number on the website.

“Fast Possum Pest Control, how can I help you?”

“Hi, odd question.  You wouldn’t happen to run a dog and cat refuge as well as your pest control business?”

“That is an odd question.  We don’t deal with dogs.”

“As I understand, and still, it is your address I was given for a missing dog.”
“Someone did dump a dog a few weeks ago.”
“That may be the dog in question.  Can I ask what happened?”

“It was a nice dog. We took it to the regular pound.  You know, the council one, down in Sutherland.”

Sutherland!  Another hour and a half away.  Some people don’t travel as far on their holidays.

“Thank you for being so helpful.  You have a good night.”  I hung up and let the others know the newest development. 

The pound’s website was sober reading.  They were a kill shelter, with most animals staying from one to three months.  Of course, they would know that the dog was linked to a dead man. 

“You’ll have to get rid of that phone, Rain.  You’ve asked after a dog whose owner was part of a tragic house fire.  That trail now leads to you.”

I winced.  I was not particularly attached to the phone, but the camera and software were decent enough for the uses Lenny and I had been putting it to. Any brick that Mr Giovanni approved of would be too basic for TikTok.

“Is that really necessary?”
“Implications of asking about a dead man’s dog,” Mr Giovanni drawled patronisingly.  He looked at his childe as if this was a lesson for us all, “This is why it is best to disentangle ourselves from our pasts.”

I thought of what disentangling would have meant to Lenny or Brendan and shuddered.  

“Hmmm, yeah, that didn’t work out so well for Stallion, did it?”

Once we made it back to the Club, a few things happen.  Mr Giovanni gave Izac a fresh shirt and handed me a new Samsung smartphone burner phone.  I silently admitted to the upgrade and stored all my files and contacts online. Then, Izac asked if someone would come with him to buy cat food, and Luna offered to join him.  Luna.  The woman who nearly swiped his head off when they met.  As you would expect, their trip to the Supermarket was eventful.

“How long have you been hearing it?” Izac asked Luna over a bag of Veterinarian’s Choice cat food while at the checkout.

“Hearing what?”  Luna dragged him away from the cashier, who was paying just a little too much attention.

“The voice in your head?”

“I heard it last when you pissed me off.”  

Dominate him, don’t let him dominate you, As if summoned, Luna’s little devil whispered fervently in her ear.

“You know, you don’t have to listen to it.”

He Lies! 

“You can be a good girl.”

No, it is too late for you!

“I can help.” Izac offered earnestly. 

Between the two competing voices, Luna finally snapped, “Like you tried to help me before?” She poked his forehead as he had tried that night on the docks.

“Sorry about that,” Izac apologised as they turned into the alley where he’d left the cats. “I was in a rush.”

Together, they put out the food and waited for the cats to wake up and eat.  The smell of food, however, drew more cats, fully blooded and ready to defend their patch.  Like tiny tigers, they lunged for the two adult vampires, all four clawed paws extended.  Izac dodged his cat, stepping back out of its way.  The second cat caught Luna, raking razor-sharp claws down her leg.  They ran like frightened children and were soon safe behind the club’s doors.

We could smell the blood before seeing Luna hobble in, pulling her skirts away from the bleeding gash on her leg.  

“What the hell, Luna!” I cried, imagining that Teeth of Titannium had second thoughts about letting the ‘leeches’ live.  Without a thought, I cleared the wound only to gain a frustrated look from Mr Giovanni.

“What if someone saw you do that?”

I admit to not thinking like a vampire, but making people see what I wanted them to see is my life.  Palm, Ditch, Misdirect, Switch. As appealing as it may have been at one time, it wasn’t as if I licked her leg. With a brush of my hand, the wound disappeared as if it were another tomato stain.

I chalked Mr Giovanni’s nervousness up to the looming dog-napping as moments later, he called over the odious Guiseppe and grumbled about the plan. 

“I am not averse to a little larceny, but there should be a reward that equals the risk,”  Guiseppee slithered up to his ‘Uncle’s ‘ side, “Guiseppe, if we have any visitors tonight, I want you to act dumb.  You don’t know where we’ve gone.”

He now turned on Stallion, who was fumbling with a pouch of lock picks, “How much do you really care for this dog?”

“I raised him from a puppy.  Raised him proper.”

“Then we must go and save this dog!” Izac announced, and our path was set.

Leichhardt to Sutherland, 9.45 pm, 8 hours until Sunrise

“My plan is, Stallion here calls for a bird or possum or something, and I drink it,” Izac explained his plan while we travelled towards Sutherland in varying degrees of foreboding, “Then Mr Giovanni walks into the shelter with this injured animal…”

“Out of the question,” Mr Giovanni interrupted in a tone that would have stopped hearts if any in the car were beating.

“I can have Bruce pick up the animal in the morning, but I refuse to put myself at such risk for a dog.”

The car turned into a forgotten road behind an industrial estate, with nothing but warehouses all around.  Neon lights wouldn’t have made us stand out anymore as we drove the expensive European sedan into the carpark. 

“The place isn’t open, Izac,” I lamented as we all piled out of the vehicle, “They’re not going to let anyone in.”

“So we’ll break in,” Stallion was determined. This was futile. I could only shake my head and turn to sit back in the car.  The glint of two eyes staring at the lot of us from the bushes that ringed the parking lot arrested my movement.  I hoped it was just some mad homeless guy whose humpy was somewhere hidden in the darkness.  I was half right.

“Hi, can I help you?” I  called as the others also spotted our peeping tom.

“G’day, Rain,” Said a man’s voice I didn’t recognise.  I was more than surprised. So few knew me under my current pseudonym. Most had driven here with me. Izac slunk down into the driver’s seat as if he were the one who’d been exposed.  Luna swore silently and kept the car door firmly between herself and the stranger.

“How do you know my name?” I said, stupidly confirming his assumption.  

“I’ve heard plenty about you, all of you,” The man stepped out of the bushes.  He was middle-aged and scruffy-looking.  Dishevelled in a way that those who have someone to clean their clothes and make sure they eat a decent meal look.  He wasn’t some lost soul without a home.

“Detective Woodman,” Mr Giovanni said with a sigh of utter resignation, “How are you tonight?”  

Oh, fuck.

“Funny place to find all you fine people, “ The detective said, his eyes roaming around to each of us.

“Our friend here is considering being a pet owner.”

“Funny time to be looking for a new pet?” 

“We need to work,” Mr Giovanni shrugged, “This was the only time we had free.”

“Well, don’t be shy. Let me meet the whole gang,” Detective Woodman said.  Luna closed the car door to stand beside Mr Giovanni.

“The lovely Luna, nice to see you again,” He turned his baleful gaze on Stallion.

“Esbert,” Stallion supplied haltingly.

“Legal name?”

“An old family one.”

“Where’s notetaker?” Luna asked, and the Detective’s attention snapped to her like a bird of prey.

“Here,” he gestured, and sure enough, a thin young man with a scraggy beard was sitting on the bonnet of the car, staring through the windscreen at Izac. Izac whimpered in surprise and tried squeezing in under the steering wheel.

“So, Detective Woodman,” Mr Giovanni dragged the gaze back to himself, “What is a police detective doing outside a dog pound in the middle of the night?”

“Like yourselves, I’m here to give a poor pup a new home,” The Detective smiled.  He knew about Boofhead. Done in by animal protection paperwork.

“We’ve only just realised they’re closed.”

 “Oh, they’re going to let me in. Anyone want to join me?” Detective Woodman asked as if goading us to follow.  The others didn’t take the bait.  Stallion and Luna said nothing. Izac didn’t move from the puddle he’d made of himself. Mr Giovanni politely thanked the Detective but declined.  I wanted to know more about this man who had Mr Giovanni and Luna in a spin.  I wanted to see how he treated others and how others responded to him.  I wanted to understand how the man worked and weighed it against the inevitable video footage the shelter would have of me. I turned on my Auspex.

“Sure, “ I smiled with a confidence I didn’t feel and, for better or worse, followed the Detective into the shelter.

It was clear, almost straight away, that the detective had been there before.  The staff who came to open the door were quiet, nervous orange auras exuded like smog from everyone in sight.  None asked what the Detective wanted or how they could help.  They all looked frightened.  For his part, the Detective was a swaggering brute, his roiling aura was a cloud of grey depression and deep brown. 

“Where’s the American?  Get me the American!” He bellowed at the staff, and his aura shifted to dark red of passion and violet as if he were taking pleasure in the power he held over them. The staff jumped and fetched a short-legged, pied-coloured dog with a squashed-in face that only widened its salivating mouth.

“There he is, there’s my baby boy!” The Detective ruffled the dog’s jowly face.  The dog’s aura moved from an anxious orange to violet, then pink at the positive attention. 

Detective Woodman looked up at me, and suddenly, the police officer’s aura bloomed.  Light green, violet and vermillion of pleasure and gold!  “I want this one.” He said, and I wasn’t sure he wasn’t talking about me.

The dog calmly accepted a lead and followed the Detective as we left the pound.  Any doubts I had that Detective Woodman had the wrong dog were swept aside by Stallion’s response.

“Mine!” He said wild-eyes, his knuckles turning white on the car door.  

Izac reached out a hand in comfort to Stallion, “Calm down,” and Stallion’s body language instantly relaxed, only to be noted by the ever-vigilant Notetaker.

“Forget,” Mr Giovanni caught Notetaker’s attention, and the assistant’s eyes glazed over.

“Come on!  Time to go home,” The Detective called, and Notetaker collected his notebook and pen and scrambled after his superior.  The last we saw of Boofhead was the dog looking out the rear window of the Detective’s car as if wondering why Stallion wasn’t going with them. 

“Look, we know where he is now. We know who has him.” I told Stallion, who looked ready to bolt like his namesake after the retreating car.

“But…him?!” Stallion wailed. The sound was heartbreaking and terrifying.

We all clambered into the car, Izac now driving as he hadn’t moved from that seat.

“Try not to break any rules while he’s still around,” Mr Giovanni warned as Izac started nervously speeding down the empty road.

The Crowbar, Leichhardt 10.45 pm 7 hours until sunrise

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.

Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats

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

Aura colours and their meanings (a work in progress)

Black: darkness, often veins or vines

Brown:

Dark Blue:

Dark Green: Envy

Dark Red: Lust, passion

Gold:

Grey: Depression

Light blue: Calm

Light green: 

Orange: Anxious

Pink:

Purple:

Rose:

Silver: Sad

TV static: agitated

Vermillion: Pleasure, happiness.

Violet:

White: Innocence, Earnest

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. 

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

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.

9.15 pm  7 hours until sunrise.

SAFETY WORD “WILL ROBINSON” IF YOU NEED HELP.

DANGER! DANGER!  WILL ROBINSON?

THAT’S THE ONE.

It felt good to share the old Safety words with the new group.  When you’re alone, safety words are useless. There’s no one there to hear them and come to your rescue.  In sharing the old safety words, I realised I finally felt safe with this motley crew.

We were out at the docks at Botany, providing support and security to Mr Giovanni as he completed a little export business. Things were quiet.  Stallion was hanging around nearest Mr Giovanni, acting as bodyguard.  Luna was on high ground, watching the entire area near the negotiations.  I’d dropped out early and taken a place near the entrance to the docks, my auspex up and sharp for movement and colour in the area.  I’d been on my share of watches in the past.  Most are ‘hurry up and wait’—a lot of very keen and intense preparation to sit around for hours…if you’re lucky.  When I spotted a pale violet and orange patch slipping through the gate into the docks, I knew it wasn’t our lucky day.

WE HAVE SOMEONE STEALTHING AROUND. KEEP IN TOUCH

As they moved from one patch of light to another around the facility, I pieced together they were male in appearance,  tall and lanky, around thirty years old, with deshelved clothes and hair, but with the exceptional features that marked him out as kin.  His aura floated around them, morphing from pale violet (I’ve yet to decipher) to fuzzy orange tips.  Anxious and nervous.  Good.  I watched him briefly before deciding they were alone and leaving my hiding spot.

“Good evening.  Can I help you at all?” I said as I stepped into a pool of light.  They didn’t seem surprised to see me there. I guessed they must have spotted me beside the barrels. And still, he seemed nervous.

“Ur..is this where I get mugged or killed?”

I smiled and relaxed a little.  A talker, not a fighter…at least to start.

“Not by me, I assure you, but I’m sure someone here could oblige.” I put out my hand for him to shake, and he stared at it as if I’d offered him a spitting cobra, “Rain.”

“Izac.” He said, stressing the ‘I’ sounding like E-zac and taking my hand. A good, sensible handshake, a strong hand.

“What brings you down here, Izac?” 

“I was just going for a walk, picking up golconda.”  

The Botany docks are a sprawling industrial area surrounded by water and an airport.  No one lives near the docks, and only those with business (such as ourselves) have a reason to be there.  The phrase golconda was also not familiar to me.  Something like a lucky windfall or other source of wealth?  Before I could question him further, Stallion took an interest in the arrival and walked over.

“This is Izac,” I introduced him to Stallion.

“What are you two doing out here?” Izac asked.

“Business,” I replied in general.

“On a job,” Stallion said at the same time.  It made us sound like we were Mafia.  And though that may be strictly true in Mr Giovanni’s case, I’d like to keep things more…conventional.  Stallion lit a joint (his supplies being refilled sometime during the week) and shared it with our visitor.

“Live around here?” Stallion asked, the glow of the lighter warming his features. I wondered how he could stand holding the naked flame that close to his face. Just watching made my skin crawl.

“No, other side of the harbour,”
“Long way to come for a walk, wouldn’t you say?” I said, slipping my hand into my pocket to report in.  

“Anyone with you?”

“No, I do know a few people.  Heard of Sarrasine?”  He said the Prince’s name oddly, as if he’d only seen it written or heard it only a few times.  Sa-ra-sin.

“Like, we’re all in the same boat, right?” He was talking in code, unsure if he could trust us, which is perfectly understandable.

“Should we pass him on to the boss?” Asked Stallion, drilling down into the organised crime schtick.

I shook my head.  I was getting the impression that this one was alone and not much of a threat.  It was his bad luck to come down to the docks on a night we happened to be there.

“No, I think we can say we’re of the same blood?” I answered Stallion.  “Not working with anyone?”

“No, I’m alone.” 

Orange static and dark blue now coloured Izac’s aura, and I wished (not for the first time) I knew more of what it all meant.  That he was still nervous was interesting.  I’m not that intimidating a person. 

“Relax.  You don’t have anything to fear from me,” I smiled, trying to gain his trust, “I’m just curious as to why you’d be out here tonight of all nights.”

“For the best of intentions, I assure you.” 

Behind me, I felt a presence move up and turned my head a little to see Avel faintly glowing in the moonlight.  I admit, her presence there distracted me from the conversation, and Stallion continued the questioning.

“So, what have you got on you? Guns? Knives?” 

“No, why should I?”

“Just checking.  Security, you know,” 

Avel looked sad and gestured towards our newcomer.  The inability to talk to her was frustrating, but I assumed it meant Izac was worthy of pity.  I texted the group.

A GENTLEMAN NAMED IZAC.  DOESN’T SEEM A THREAT BUT HE’S BEING CAGEY. I’LL STICK CLOSE.

Mr Giovanni replied a moment later, DO SO.  KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE CONTAINERS.

Obviously, Mr Giovanni thought Izac may be looking to make a windfall at his expense.

Now that Izac had been determined not to be a threat, Stallion grew bored with him and returned to Mr Giovanni.  Avel was fading away, just staring at Izac.  It was galling and heartbreaking.  I couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t even touch her. All she could do was get my attention and…stare. 

“You seem an odd group,” Izac said as Stallion moved away, and I was jolted back into the conversation.  

“Huh? Oh yes.  Circumstances bring you in contact with people you’d have no dealings with otherwise.” 

We talked as Mr Giovanni wound up his business dealings, and the subject got around to sires. 

I don’t like talking about Garcia.  The more time passes, the more I doubt my recollections.  Those few hours of knowing I was wanted and special are tainted with the impression that I had been conned.  Me! So, as is my way, I turned the question back on him.

“So this…’she’ you picked up in a bar.  Did she offer you a choice?”

“Choice? I guess.  Yes and no.” He thought a moment, “Yes and no.” His obfuscation created an image for me.  Meet an attractive woman who is interested in him.   They chat and drink, and she offers to stay the night. Wanted and special.  Or maybe that’s just me projecting.  He took my introspection for doubt.

“Yes, I’m being cagey,” He confessed in a self-effacing way that made him… likeable.

“Not a bad thing among strangers,” I acknowledged, “Some of us are better at it than others.”

“What about you?  Did you get a choice?” It’s only polite to ask, isn’t it?

Internal sigh.

“Yes,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, “At least I was offered, and I said yes.”

Mr Giovanni’s business was almost complete.  The containers were safely aboard, and he sent his three trading partners to different corners of the dock.  I noticed one stood in a corner where the video camera didn’t cover entirely.  When he returned sometime later, he was ready to focus on Izac.

“Rain, I see you’ve found a new friend,” He said, the polite businessman mask in place.

“As always, Mr Giovanni.  This is Izac.  Izac, our benefactor, Mr Giovanni.” 

“Dominic Giovanni.” They shook hands.

“Izac is being cagey about being here tonight,” I said before texting the group.

IZAC IS AN ODD ONE.  I HAVE A FEELING HE’S MEANT TO BE WITH US.

“I guess you could say I was just hanging around looking for a good opportunity to…ah…look for a snack…do the deed.”

“You’re alone?” Mr Giovanni asked, “Not on good terms with your sire?”

“You could say that.”

“No one waiting for you when you woke in the dirt?”

“No,” Izac said with such finality that, for the first time, I felt sorry for him.  At least we had Mr Giovanni and his tender care.  I couldn’t imagine trying to make sense of this life alone.  Not for the first time, I wondered how Avel knew these things.

“Rain, do you mind if Mr…” Mr Giovanni held the question and Izac politely supplied.

“Grimoil, but Izac is fine.”

“…Mr Grimoil and I chat business.”

I knew when to make myself scarce.

Their conversation was much like the one we’d been given our first night.  Tidying up loose ends, parents (hasn’t spoken to them since being turned), friends (through work, hasn’t been back, same reason).  Once a plumber. Good at judging the mood of a situation. He was offered a job at the Crow bar.

“You parents, would you like them hidden or protected?”

“What? Do they need protection?”
“Unique individuals such as ourselves can be…manipulated by pressure placed on those we…hold dear.  For their safety and your own.  It is only to be expected.”

“But what’s coming for them?”

“Politics, plain and simple.”

Mr Giovanni asked how long it had been since being turned, assuming, like us, he’d been alone for no more than a few months.

“Thirty-seven years.”

“Alone, without guidance?  Have you been introduced to Prince Sarrasine?”

“No, heard of him, though.”

“Well, we’re heading back to the club now.  Would you like to join us?’

“Sure, I have no place to be.”

I’d been standing with Luna in companionable silence while we waited for the chat to end.  She seemed fine, calm, and if anything, jovial.  The night had gone well. We were getting paid and would soon be back at the bar for a snack. And then her eyes turned hard, and a tick started in her jaw.  Her whole body went rigid as her hands clenched into fists.  Her aura, a pale blue of calm, turned into roiling circles of hypnotic purple and red.  Behind me, Izac was walking up innocently, ready to be introduced to the last member of the coterie, and I was worried she was going to rip out his throat. His aura reflected his expression: pink, rose and the white of innocence.

“Luna? Luna, he’s fine, are you?” I said, getting between her and Izac as he stepped up.  She didn’t respond. All her attention was on Izac.  

“Hi,” He said, bending down to her as he was almost twice her height. She was struggling with something, fighting with all her might to stop it from tearing apart this man.  It was terrifying, and there was nothing I could do but watch.  Even Stallion became aware that something was up and was sauntering across, concern on his suntanned face. Only Mr Giovanni, apart from us on his phone, his aura violet.

Silently, Izac reached out a hand and touched her head as if to gentle a small child or animal.  Whatever it was, it didn’t work. She snapped, stepped back and growled.

“I suggest you step back there, Izac,” I said, not turning away from Luna. “It’s best to keep your hands to yourself.”

A battle of wills warred over Luna’s face as, one moment, she looked about to spring into attack while in another, she was physically pulling herself back.  Eventually, she turned her back on Izac and walked away. Stallion following.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding and glanced up at Izac.  

“I won’t try to tell you what that was about, but we’re all complicated creatures here,” I said by way of an apology.  

“Some more than others, I see,” He agreed.

Stallion was talking low to Luna as she seemed to get a hold of herself again.  He looked around a moment, then gestured to the sky. One of the billions of fruit bats that make Sydney home fluttered out of the darkness and latched onto his hand.  I’d never seen him use this particular ability and was curious what he had in mind.  After a moment, seemingly talking to the bat (though all we could hear were squeaks), it flew off to fly around the dockland buildings.  A moment later, a caustic bat shit plopped onto the ground just where Izac had been standing.  Stallion’s aura was the vermillion of pleasure.  Luna’s by this time was back to the light blue of calm and I let myself relax.

“Oh!  The bats are out tonight,” Izac said, stepping aside to avoid the nasty hot splat.

“Yes, we should go before more bats are drawn to the area,” I glared at Stallion, thinking if that mess had hit me instead of the ground.  It didn’t diminish Stallion’s pleasure. I think it only made the aura brighter.

From our various parts of the dock, we started towards the black limousine we’d arrived in. I quickly sent off a message to Luna.

WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT? HE SEEMS PRETTY INNOCENT TO ME.

NOT HIM PERSONALLY.  WHATEVER IS INSIDE OF ME DOESN’T LIKE HIM

ANYTHING I CAN DO IN THE FUTURE? SAFE WORD?

NOT SURE. WE SHOULD HAVE A SAFE WORD IN GENERAL THO

EXTERNAL THREATS, WILL ROBINSON. INTERNAL THREATS (BEAST) LITTLE DEVIL.

RECEIVED. OVER.

Izac was looking out over the water close to the docks.  

“Ha,” He said, and kept walking.

“What did you mean?” Mr Giovanni’s paranoia, picking up on something in Izac’s tone, turned and stopped him in his tracks.

“What? Nothing.”

“You said ‘ha’.  What made you say that?”

“Well, you just don’t see ducks out so late,” Izac said, sheepishly nodding towards the water.  Mr Giovanni turned to the car and requested the boot open.  Inside, the assortment of lethal weapons we’d come to assume from Mr Giovanni.

“Take what you want.”

“We’re going duck shooting?” Izac took a shotgun and suppressor.

“Ducks?” I turned to look where he had gestured. Two somethings were bobbing along in the water.  Not ducks, though. One was a wooden box. The other was a misshapened head.

“Be prepared,” Mr Giovanni replied, picking up a shotgun.

As a group, we all walked to the edge of the dock, the box only sixty metres away and easy to see against the moon-silvered wavelets.  A hand, disjointed and scabrous, held the box. The head blinked in our direction.

“Nice night for a swim, sewer rat?” Mr Giovanni asked, the shotgun held over his left arm casually.

“Never a wrong time for a bath, is it, Mr Giovanni?” The sewer rat replied just as casually, though it was almost comical how he looked bobbing along in the inky blackness while we watched from above, “Do you think you could point the gun somewhere else?”

He wasn’t here to steal. That much was clear.  His hide and floatation device barely kept him afloat. So, a spy, here to find out what Mr Giovanni was up to.

“Who do you report to?” I asked before being hushed by Mr Giovanni.

“No need to waste a favour on that piece of information.”

Oops.

“You will report back and remember that you were not blasted out of the water without a second’s thought.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” The Nosferatu grumbled but didn’t argue.

We started back to the car, with not a shot fired until Izac shuddered.

“It was just so ugly,” He said out loud.

“Yeah, fuck you too!” Came the distant cry from the water.

“Some of us keep our beast on the outside.  Some on the inside, but we all have them.” I commented, also disturbed by how broken the Nosferatu had seemed.

“Mr Giovanni, how do you know he wasn’t lying?” Izac asked, unsure we shouldn’t have blasted the rotting corpse of kin out of the water and left it for the tide to wash away.

“Oh, he was lying.”

“But will he keep the favour?”

“Oh yes, because at the end of the day, Nosferatu, like him, trades in information.  He will hear something I want to know and repay this little debt.”

Words of wisdom to live by.

Stallion was adamant about freeing his dog from what he saw as dog jail. 

We were in the limousine driving back to the inner west, a good night’s work behind us, and now Stallion felt his life companion needed consideration.

“You heard Bruce. He has a better home now,” I tried reasoning, but that only worked so far with Stallion.

“We were mates, the best of mates. I can’t let him down.”

“He just wants to save his dog,” Luna came in on Stallion’s side.   I leaned in and whispered to her.

“I’m trying to save my hardwood floors!”

“He’ll live outside,” She countered in good humour, and I let it rest…for now.  I was just happy to see Luna in good spirits.

“I have no problem with a little larceny if that’s what you want to do,” said Mr Giovanni smoothly.

“That’s what I want to do,” Stallion nodded, then had another thought (two in one night!). He turned in his seat to face Izac.

“You tried to do something to Luna before.  What sort of mutant powers do you have?”

“Oh, something I picked up in my time,” Izac asked as vaguely as usual, “I understand I’ve been…like us for a little longer than the rest of you.  May I ask how long have you been out of the ground?”

“Very fresh, “I admitted before Stallion blurted out we were less than two weeks into our new lives, “You can probably smell the briny sand still on us.”

Izac sniffed as if trying to do just that.  It was such an innocent gesture I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mr Giovanni,” It was my turn to direct the conversation, “If one wanted to, how do you get in touch with the sewer rats?”  I thought of Paul, the Nosferatu who had taken me to see the Prince.  There was a town full of kin I had no idea of, and I had to start making connections.

“It’s never hard. They’ll often find you,” Mr Giovanni replied, uninterested in the conversation.

“It’s just that we now reside in Pyrmont, and I’m acutely aware we’ve yet to introduce ourselves to the kin who run the domain.  You wouldn’t know who they are?”

“No. I don’t concern myself with issues outside my sphere of influence.”

He was going to be no help.  I then remembered Izac.

“Izac, you said you’d heard of Prince Sarrasine. How?  From whom?”

“Ur…local talk…you know…”

“This is not pub gossip. This is the Prince of Sydney, the ruler of all kin.  He goes to a lot of trouble so that people don’t know who he is.”

“I don’t know, I just talk to people.”

“Where?”

“Down The Rocks, there’s a pub called the King’s Arms. Mother Pasta told me about Sarrasine.”

Yes!  Finally, a contact outside the closed circle of Mr Giovanni and his ghouls.

“Mr Giovanni, please drop me off at The Rocks.”

“No.”  The syllable was short and final, like a bullet in my plans.

“What?  Why? I need to reach out to others like us, make contact, build a base.”

“In fact, you are to strictly avoid that place, is that understood?  It is the home for a werewolf clan called the Bone Gnawers.”

“What of the Moon-Beasts who hunt us father?”

“There will come a time, in the last days, 

When the Moon-Beasts will grow uneasy

And they will be dying out

Like a sick wolf who must leave the pack.

They will fight rather than die sick

And so they will find us

And they will kill us.

Mark ye well, the Clan of the Beast!

For they will hold the key

They will make the way of protection

They will make the way of trickery

They will make the way of peace.”

The book of Nod, Of the Moon-Beasts, p110.

The book of Nod is a fascinating collection of accounts and wisdom handed down from before the biblical flood. My mind recollected the section devoted to the Lupine in harrowing detail. We were in the last days.  Ours (now only Luna and I, I can’t speak for Izac) were the foretold last generation.  Yes, in their rage to die fighting, the lupine kill kin, but what else did the clan have to offer?  Trickery, true, but also protection and peace.  And that’s only if you read the Book Of Nod literally. 

Folks is folks, be they kin or werewolf.

Mr Giovanni was not concerned with my dashed plans.  He, too, turned to Izac.

“How did you survive?”

“I’m a good boy,” Izac replied simply. A statement he came to repeat ad nausea.

“Are you on a leash?” Stallion asked.

“What? Did you become their bitch?” Luna added, barking one of her more sarcastic laughs.

“I thought we decided that was you,” Stallion retorted, gaining himself a playful slap.

“I don’t think so,” Izac said, mulling over his words before speaking, “I just made a good impression. I’m a good boy.”

“Did they mark you?” Stallion again, though this time, he did have a good point.

“Yes, did they perhaps give you a token, a white button?”

“There was a trinket,” Izac confessed, “But I threw it away.”

“Could you describe it?” I asked.  Maybe they had found him worthy. Maybe there was a way to talk to this elder of the werewolves in a civilised manner.

“Ur…it was nothing.  Rectangular and shiny, like those tags you stick on dog collars.  But there was nothing on it.”

Nothing written on it, I bet.

“How long ago did you throw it away?  Do you think you could find it again?”

“It was about six months ago.” Too late, long gone. I slumped back into the heavily padded leather upholstery.

“It can’t be as bad as you fear,” I said, gesturing grandly at Izac, “I have living proof it can be done.”  

“Be serious, Rain,” This was Luna, not sarcastic or joking but deeply earnest, “You’ve read the Book of Nod.”

“Werewolves kill vampires,” Mr Giovanni reinforced, “They tear them apart with their bare hands.  If there was even a whiff of vampire…” Mr Giovanni stopped and looked at Izac realisation dawning, “You’ve never done anything wrong in your life, have you?”

“As I said, I’m a good boy.”

“Your Mother Pasta would eat me without thought.  Luna, too, come to think of it.”
“Hey!”

“But you, you innocent lamb, went into the den of wolves and walked out with a tin token.”  Mr Giovanni now turned his baleful gaze on me, quietly thinking over plans.

“You will go nowhere near The Rocks.”
“But Bobby!” I protested. It was still my plan to go back and see the Malcavian and glean what knowledge I could from his overripe mind.

“You can meet him in other places. I want you nowhere near those werewolves.”

Grudgingly, with all the disappointment I could inflict on a phrase, I sat up and straightened my coat.

“Yes, Mr Giovanni.”

Notable NPCs

Avel:  Rain’s mother, a wraith.

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

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.

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

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

Paul: a Nosferatu of the Sewer Rats

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

Aura colours and their meanings (a work in progress)

Black: darkness, often veins or vines

Brown:

Dark Blue:

Dark Green: Envy

Dark Red: Lust, passion

Grey: Depression

Light blue: Calm

Orange: Anxious

Pink:

Purple:

Red:

Rose:

Silver: Sad

TV static: agitated

Vermillion: Pleasure, happiness.

Violet:

White: Innocence

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. 

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

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.

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-07-13/behind-juanita-nielsen-mystery-forgotten-aboriginal-death/100283926

A week later…

A week is a long time when your life consists of little more than ten days.  I had my appointment with the Prince, who generously consented to give me a house in Harris Street, Pyrmont.  It was more than I could have hoped.  I keep looking to see if a sword is hanging over my head, but so far, this life is better than I could have ever expected. 

Before leaving Prince Sarrasine, I told him I had thought about what he said concerning beauty that could be trapped forever.  I’ve done my share of reading. I knew of the novella by Balzac that shared his name.  It struck me that anyone who had made the opera singer’s choice was much further along the Path of Ecstacy than I could ever hope to be.

He smiled, maybe a little sadly, “Only the flowers could think up such a thing.” At that moment, I wondered how much choice he had. 

“If you wish to see beauty frozen forever, we are to be visited by a true Ancient.  She will arrive in five weeks with her troop, the Succubus Club.

I’m sure my eye twitched.  Wasn’t that the gig Miss Divine Intervention had booked?

“I’ll be sure to be there.” 

The house (my house) is over a hundred years old and has seen many changes in fortune over her long life.  With a ground floor large enough to house a small gallery, the upstairs was where I now made my life. I invited Stallion and Luna to stay.  The house was only a walk from the University of Technology, and Pyrmont was the heart of the newly gentrified Sydney.  Not long after, Luna Perra applied for ancient history and archeological studies and settled into life as an evening student. 

Lenny was able to keep his shit together for the week. When I finally had the keys to the townhouse, he was sober and ready to go.  Ghouling him was an experience for both of us. I hadn’t considered that he was just replacing one addiction for another.  Instead of being addicted to whatever random drug he could get his hands on, he was now addicted…to me. Still, it was good to have him in my life again, and I confided in him my big plans for the future.

Stallion was getting control of his life.  He was our in-house handyman and doing good work at the Crow bar.  Still, there was a restlessness about him.  He missed his friends but was committed to making his new life work.  One night at the Club, as I was about to start working the room, I heard him finally corner Bruce as to the fate of his erstwhile companions. 

“You come looking for a pay rise already?” Bruce asked.

“No. I want to know what happened to my old mates.  I can’t reach them, and none have been in touch.”

“I took them out,” Bruce replied simply.  

“Out?  Out where?” I guess there had been talk of a bonfire party that night, but I still wondered at Stallion’s inability to do the math.

“Away.  We agreed to take away.”

“Can you take me to where they are?”

Bruce looked to Mr Giovanni, who happened to be walking by.  By this time, I had also joined Stallion by his side, ready for when the penny finally dropped.

“I don’t think our Stallion will comprehend what we have done in his best interest unless you do,” Mr Giovanni replied, waiting as Bruce pulled out a Polaroid picture.

I don’t remember much after seeing the image of a pit in nondescript bushland with several human bodies.  Flashbacks of another pit of bodies haunted me for the rest of the night.  Afterwards, Stallion confirmed that he knew the people in the pit and asked about his dog, Boofhead.

“What do you think I am, a monster?” Bruce said, returning the evidence to his coat pocket, “I don’t kill dogs.  I took him to the pound.  He’s probably got a new family by now.”

‘But why did they have to…” Stallion began before Mr Giovanni cut him off.  

“It was part of disentangling you from your old life.  Now there’s no one left to question, to become a liability.”

“How high was I when I agreed to this?” It was a sign of a change in Stallion that this was becoming a regular question for him.

“You were just coming off a meal tainted with your favourite additive,” Mr Giovanni admitted before turning and leaving Stallion to contemplate what his new life had cost.

“I’m going to go look for Boofhead. We had a connection, that dog and me,” Stallion said later after I’d found a drunk customer to snack on.  As Stallion sobered, I was finding the buzz from alcohol-spiced blood an enjoyable distraction. 

“But I don’t like dogs,” I said unthinkingly.  I would have broached the subject more tactfully in a sober mind.

“Do you want to get a new dog?” Luna suggested.  It was one of the few nights she was free of study and had joined us at the club.

“Why? Are you looking to be adopted?” He replied.  I have to admit it was a clever pun on her last name.

“I’m not up for adoption,” She replied just as quickly.

“You’re cute and young. You’d be snapped up.”

She didn’t like the reminder of how young she was.  How young she was forever.

“I’m an adult.  I don’t need parentage.”

“No, just tutelage. I’m sure I could teach you a few tricks.  Say, I bet I could tell you about your future.  Let me read your palm?”

“What? Like the lunatic in the sewer?  No thanks”

The thought of Bobby Listener had me thinking.  He may know about the ‘fake flower’ and how I could communicate with Avel. I hadn’t seen her since Mr Giovanni’s office. I’d asked Mr Giovanni about Necromancy and if it could teach me to talk to her.  He’d been reticent on the subject like it was a big clan (and therefore, for him, family) secret. I hadn’t given up, but maybe there was another way.

“We should go back and see Bobby.  A lot has happened.  He may have some insights.” I suggested.  They both just looked at me.

“After a week?” Luna asked.  

A lot had happened to me since the last visit. I hadn’t imagined the thought didn’t necessarily relate to the other two.  Though Stallion showed some interest in going, the subject was soon forgotten.

Mr Giovanni kept himself busy at his many businesses.  He watched Detective Woodman through Bruce and Guiseppi and gained access to the police’s preliminary reports. Through Woodman’s gibberish, Mr Giovanni could see sparks of genius, but they were so cluttered with nonsense that it was almost indecipherable.  Mr Giovanni also contented himself with controlling any images of us from that same job.  Bruce successfully accessed all the video from that night, including a view down the alley showing the gunfight.  

“And you’re sure no one else has seen this before you?” Mr Giovanni asked Bruce.

“I saw no evidence that anyone had been at the device before me?”

“Good, and how did you dispose of it?”
“I threw it in the river, sir.”

Mr Giovanni has grown to be a middle-aged, moderately successful vampire by being paranoid.  

“The river? On what  were the images stored?”

“DVD, sir.”

And now he felt he had good reason to be paranoid.

“I would like you to retrieve those discs and, this time, destroy them.  It involves the new kids.  We don’t want their young lives tainted before they start, do we?”
“No, sir.”
“So, please do as I request.  Oh, and keep an ear on the police scanners for anything related.”

I understand that Bruce returned with a handful of burnt and broken discs sometime after a midnight dip in the Parramatta River.  Paranoia mollified for the time being, Mr Giovanni turned his attention to his childer. The house wasn’t ready for a visit from Mr Giovanni.  In my opinion, shuttered rooms and a fridge full of TV meals for Lenny did not not a home make. So, Mr Giovanni spent his time questioning Stallion and Luna.

“So you took my advice and returned to your studies?  What path did you take?”

“I’m focusing on the ancients,” Luna replied.

“Come again?” ‘The Ancients’ having a different meaning to Mr Giovanni.

“History.  Ancient specifically, and I’m picking up classes in Archeology.  My training in architecture is coming in handy, and I’m hoping I can make a little more sense out of this life we’re living.”

Mr Giovanni nodded approvingly, “Not much money in the field, but a great deal of prestige.  There is a kin historian.  He likes to be called a scholar.  His name is Beckett.  A gangrel ruffian who is barely tolerated because of the knowledge his mind contains.”

Some days later, he handed Luna a dusty tome named ‘Book of Nod’ stamped in silver across its black leather-bound cover.  

“When I was…a certain age, I poured over the pages of this book.  Think of it as a bible for kin. Once you’ve finished that, I have another, ‘Revelations of the Dark Mother’, that may interest you.”  

Luna has read the Book of Nod, and since she left it lying around the house, so have I. It is the story we’ve always known, and yet, not—a first-hand account of the creation of vampires from the beginning of the human race from a very biblical perspective. 

Now sober enough to be curious about why the Prince smoked, Stallion searched for his own answers with Night Rider.

“I just wanted to know if I was missing out on something,” Stallion asked him one night over the phone.

“It’s simple.  As kin, you can get the effect of a drug by either infusing the blood of a kine or taking the drug and infusing it with blood.  It is the blood that matters, after all.”

“No smoking in the house,” I said when he brought up the subject later.

“What if I just hang out a window…”

“We live there too, “ Luna added, “We don’t want your filthy habit smelling up the place.”

“There’s a small backyard.  Feel free to smoke out there,” I tried compromising, “And when we walk down to the Pyrmont Tavern, you could smoke then…”

“What if it rains, Rain?” I’m sure he felt very pleased with himself over that.

“You’ll get wet,” Luna smiled, coming to my rescue.  

Some time, while working at the bar, setting up the new home and finding I now had disposable income, I finally moved the conversation with coterie around to the Succubus Club.

“Do you remember Bobby Listener telling Mr Giovanni about a party happening…that the devils would dance?”  As usual, Stallion had little recollection of the evening, but Mr Giovanni and Luna nodded.

“Well, I found out through sources that the Succubus Club is due in town five weeks from now.  Do you think it’s related?  Do either of you know anything about the club?”

It wasn’t surprising when Luna drew a blank.  Mr Giovanni nodded slowly.

“I’d have to check Shrek.net, but what I recall, the Succubus Club is a cabaret, a circus for kin.  It tours around, and at its heart is an ancient named Helena.”

“Helen…of Troy?” I blurted out.  It made sense. If Prince Sarrasene is as old as we believe, then an Ancient he respected had to be as old as the Trojan Wars. 

“You’re kidding me?  Helen of Troy?  What? Are all famous people from history vampires?” Luna exclaimed.

“Vampires, werewolves, the fey, mages,” Mr Giovanni nodded, looking at me, “You know, she could be a direct ancestor to you, Rain. I understand she is a Toreador.”

That gave me pause for thought.  We worked it out later.  If I was her direct ancestor, there were nine generations between us.  I…don’t remember family.  Found family, sure, but actual blood relations?  Avel was only a recent development in a long life of belonging…nowhere and to no one.  I started to wonder what belonging to her family tree would mean.  Then I remembered why I’d brought all this up in the first place.

“It’s just that a kine I know has been asked to perform for this Club.  Should I be concerned?”

“It has been known that though many are invited, some never leave,” Mr Giovanni said coolly as is his way.  

Wonderful.

“I need your help.  I need to save this kine. They’re special, not just to me but to many people.  Stallion, Mr Giovanni, please say you’ll come with me?”

“You know I’ve got your back,” Stallion said automatically.  

“Oh, I’ll be there,” Mr Giovanni answered cryptically.  I then turned to Luna, who seemed to be reeling over finding out that the history she was learning was littered with kin.

“Luna?  I need your help?”

“Sure, I’ll help you,” She said, smiling with genuine warmth that would have made my heart pound if it still worked. 

“You will need to dress your best, and good clothes cost money, “ Mr Giovanni said, taking control of the meeting. “And I have a job for all three of you that offers you a tidy bonus for such an occasion.  Several containers of family goods must leave these shores by the end of the week.  I want you to accompany me to the docks and ensure they make it out to sea.”

“More bodyguard work?”  Stallion asked.

“Yes, but also preempting any attack that could make negotiations difficult.  I know you all have skills. I’d like to see you use them.”

He was right.  Besides a new outfit for the Succubus Club, there was Wifi and renovations for the house.  The money would come in handy. 

“Yes, Mr Giovanni.  We are at your disposal.”

9.15pm  7 hours until sunrise.

So armed with whatever weapons Mr Giovanni felt would be useful, we set off for the terminal the next night.  I dropped out of the group early, wanting to look at the terminal and its entrances.  Being small(er) quick and agile, the shadows have always been my safety.  Though my home may be in the spotlight, I look to the shadows when things turn nasty.

Stallion stayed close to Mr Giovanni, acting tough.  The Pup’s bravado might not have impressed the kin present, but the kine would have found him intimidating.  Luna found a perch up high.  Closer to the action than me, but with a better view of Mr Giovanni and the negotiations below. 

Now, it was just up to us to wait and be ready.

Notable NPCs

Avel:  Rain’s mother, a wraith.

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

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.

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

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

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

Aura colours and their meanings (a work in progress)

Black: darkness, often veins or vines

Dark Green: Envy

Dark Red: Lust, passion

Grey: Depression

Light blue: Calm

Orange: Anxious

Purple:

Silver: Sad

TV static: agitated

Vermillion: Pleasure, happiness.

Violet:

White: Innocence

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 bond: A relationship between two vampires where one is bound to the other by drinking their blood.

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:  Descendants from one of the 13 antediluvians. 

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. Also known as Children of Seth (the younger brother of Caine and Abel)

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

Succubus Club: A touring cabaret of performers that follow Helena, an Ancient Toreador.

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

Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.

Wraith: Spirits of the dead who are tied to a place, thing or person.

*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.

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-07-13/behind-juanita-nielsen-mystery-forgotten-aboriginal-death/100283926