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.
She was just as I’d left her. Cold, dark, dank and dirty. The sound of snoring echoed through her empty interior. The old girl was a hundred and twelve years old and looked it. But like much in her time, she was built to last and had, through constant upheaval in a city that never seems to stop changing. The thick hardwood floor repeated the tapping of my dress shoes as I crossed the room and climbed the stairs. Here, the auras were colourless. Greys, light blues if they were lucky. I spotted an irregular visitor I recognised hunched up against the wall as I arrived on the second floor. Orange and Violet
A Strange Life 