6.00 pm 13 hours until sunrise – 14 days until The Succubus Club
SMS to Benefactor
I WOULD LIKE TO DO MY BEST AT THE CLUB IN 2 WEEKS. I’D LOVE TO DISCUSS IT WITH YOU, BUT KNOW YOUR TIME IS PRECIOUS. IS THERE SOMEONE I COULD TALK TO?
Benefactor
OF COURSE WE ARE ALWAYS AVAILABLE WHEN NEEDED. DEPENDING ON HOW YOU WANT TO DISPLAY YOURSELF.
SMS to Benefactor
WHEN WOULD BE BEST?
Benefactor
WE WILL SEND FOR YOU
SMS to Benefactor
THANK YOU.
Two weeks until the Succubus Club.
It seemed like my whole young vampire life was leading up to this point. I was trying to straddle the line between the connections to my old life as I grew into…this new one. The mage had been a revelation. With my new companions, I felt I could be a force in the world instead of a victim. If I could just make it through The Succubus Club, then maybe, for the first time in my life, I could dare to feel safe.
Then again, self-delusion is the most straightforward trick of all.
I picked up my notes on the Thaumaturgy book. Though Stallion had told me the book wasn’t to leave the library, there was no mention of making notes. I’d promised Lenny something on magic, and this was the closest thing I’d come across, not in Greek or Latin. Thus prepared, I opened my bedroom door.
The house was waking around me. Luna was studying in her room the tinny sound of earbuds and the clack of a laptop keyboard leaking under her bedroom door. I could hear Stallion and the dog talking in the kitchen. I followed the sound down the stairs.
“Master, why are you looking at me so intently?” Blanco’s voice came from the sun-yellow dog. I didn’t let on I understood and silently watched the conversation.
“Are you getting skinny?” Stallion mused.
“I could do with more calcium in my diet.”
“Huh, anything in particular you’d like?”
“Bourbon.”
“Have you had bourbon before?”
“Many times.”
“Well, who am I to refuse,” Stallion replied in a happy tone and spotted me.
“Good evening.”
“Stallion, I was very impressed with you last night. I had expected you to leap in and attack on sight, but you were calm and focused. What were you doing to the Mage?”
“You haven’t seen me do it before?” he asked, genuinely surprised. I use it when the customers get out of hand. It’s an intimidation trick. I let them know who the alpha dog is.”
“I see,” I said, a little disappointed. His new ability was just an extension of his aggression and violence. It seemed that no matter how I tried, I couldn’t find a single point of connection with Stallion. He was a thoughtless brute, selfish, and disloyal. Poor Blanco in the dog bed was a better human being than the six-foot-tall tattooed Aryian I shared my home with.
“Well, thanks for the book. I made notes last night,” I brandished the order pad on which I’d scribbled down what I could from the book. “Tonight is for study.”
“Uh,” He replied, not thinking much of the idea of study, “Just be careful with the Tremere Crap.”
Stallion went to do some shopping, and I entered the Studio. It had been the dining room of the house, a time when those who lived here actually dined. Now it was Lenny’s space, and it was filled with concept drawings, magazine clippings, half-painted masonite sheets, paint supplies, the haze of spray paint and the constant smell of paint thinner. I stood entranced in front of one painting after another, awed by Lenny’s talent. This and the idea of real magic made everything we’d been through so far worthwhile.
“Hey, Rain,” Lenny’s muffled voice called through a respiratory mask, from behind another large piece of masonite. I went to see what he was working on. He was recreating the Madonna of the streets that he’d first illuminated the old squat.
The skin tones had buttery, oil-paint feel from the original, though the two figures of the mother and child were just the same.
“Beautiful, “ Was all I could say and handed over the notes.
“Hey, thanks. Um…while you’re here, do you think I could have a drink?”
“Hmm? If you like,” I offered my wrist as I took in the glance between mother and child. It was as if they both knew that moment of peace together wouldn’t last.
“I heard that something was happening at the old place. Police and blood and shit.”
“What? Surry Hills?”
“Yeah, no details, though,” He drank his fill and stumbled over to his bed, the notes clutched to his chest.
I’d tried to keep my visits rare to see Big Bob, Trish and the others so as not to draw attention to them. Though Lenny and I had moved on, they were still important to me. I’d have to go and see if anyone was still around. Leaving Lenny to sleep, I left for the light rail station.
Unknown to me, Izac had slept on the upstairs lounge and kept himself busy reading. Sometime after the house had gone quiet again, he walked down the hallway and knocked on Luna’s bedroom door.
“Hey Luna.” He glanced around the door to find her sprawled out on the floor of her room, headphones in, books and laptop arrayed around her. She spotted the movement and pulled out an earbud.
“Hi, what are you doing here?”
“I slept here, on the lounge. I…nevermind.”
“Oh, I didn’t notice.”
“No one ever does,” He murmured before adding, “ I just wanted to thank you for having my back last night.”
“Yeah, it’s good when the world stops ringing, right?
Rend him! Why do you try and befriend him?
She smiled.
“So…what’s all this about?” He gestured to the study guides and texts laid out around Luna.
“History and archaeology. I am a student. I always like to do more than just the basic reading.”
He’s not worth your time! Get him away!
“Um…Giovanni around?”
“No, he doesn’t live here,” She laughed, squashing the voice in her head, “You’d find him at the bar.”
“Uh, yeah. I’ll go down the Crowbar then. I need to see Giovanni about something.”
Mr Giovanni was busy Two weeks out from the Succubus Club, he was preparing. He had a collection of small squeeze bottles suitable for food colouring or flavourings. Grabbing a handful, he turned the tap from one of his ‘kegs’ and filled the samplers Marking them with a code to identify the ‘vintage’, he grabbed another handful of empty bottles and moved to the next.
He received an SMS from Giuseppi.
STALLION HAS LEFT THE HOUSE ON FOOT. IZAC IS ON HIS WAY TO YOU.
WHAT’S IZAC’S MOOD?
NEUTRAL. HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE WALKING THREATENINGLY
OKAY. KEEP AN EYE ON HIM. AS FOR STALLION. MORE FUN TIME WITH HIM.
Stallion had taken himself down to the corner off-licience. In the yellow flurolight, he stood in front of a shelf of bourbons, trying to gauge the benefits of each. One from King’s Brewery was cheap but seemed to fit the bill. On the other hand, Jim Beam, more pricey, but this was for his buddy, his faithful pup, Slobbers. As he stood there, the idea of a booze-up after the excitement of the night before seemed a really good idea.
See me happy man? That’s a fake smile
I got a lot on my plate this might take a while
Stallion’s phone lamented from his pocket. With a bottle in each hand, he juggled his phone from his pocket to his ear.
“Hey Buddy! How are you doing?” It was Giuseppi. That man had fantastic timing.
“I’m just getting some stock in for a booze up this evening. Are you free?”
“Don’t mind getting pissed up. Where?”
“Home…we can go somewhere else as long as we can take Slobbers.”
“The dog? What does he like?”
“Bourbon.”
“Can I watch?”
“Of course. Come on over.”
With both bottles in hand, he paid and started the walk home, ready for a night of revelry.
Izac arrived at the Crowbar just in time to see Giuseppi leave, a big grin on his disproportionate face.
“Hey Giuseppi,” He waved.
“Izac, how are you doing?” Giuseppi beamed, drool spilling down his lips.
“Swimmingly,” Izac replied automatically. He didn’t have anything against Giuseppi, but neither did he really know him either.
“Aren’t we all.”
“I’m looking for Mr Giovanni. Is he in the bar?”
“Downstairs in the VIP lounge.”
Walking downstairs, avoiding the door to the meat locker and turning into the VIP lounge, Izac was horrified to find Mr Giovanni tapping dead bodies to fill tiny bottles with blood.
“Hard at work,” He swallowed hard to keep down the bile.
“That’s how you make the big buck,” Mr Giovanni replied in a cheerful mood, “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“I’ve come to talk about our current relationship. What exactly is it you need from me?”
“Izac. Australia is a land full of werewolves. If we are to make our way here, we need a way of dealing with them without being torn limb from limb. You know the right sort of people, and they recognise your gravitas. Talk to them. Keep in their good books and start building a relationship that can be more than just the goodboy.”
“So, what do we have that they want? What would we want from them?”
“I’d like to receive favours in exchange for payment, protection in my domain, and goods and services. Is that agreeable?”
Izac nodded slowly.
“And what about this Succubus Club? It doesn’t sound like a place for me. Maybe I can be…unwell?”
“Yes, you may need to be too unwell to attend.” Mr Giovanni agreed with a nod.
I kept to myself during the ride on the light rail to Central. I stealthed through the shadows as I walked the streets of Surry Hills. I kept my head down and looked for familiar faces between the arches of Central. If there had been trouble, I expected the old crew to have found other places to sleep. I didn’t like the feeling that was sinking into the pit of my stomach. Violence comes to those on the streets from time to time. Drunken thugs wanting to prove their mettle, extremists who believed they had some right to enforce their worldview on others or those who have lost their minds. The thin protection of the law barely exists for those who fall between society’s cracks.
When I found no one, I circled under the rail bridge and up the hill to Randle Street, my Auspex highlighting the minds around me. The police tape was the first sign that things were not well. Even from down the street, I could see bright yellow baring the door. The building was dark. No auras betrayed signs of life. Across the street, however, a pale aura light blue and vermillion stood out against the rooftop. My stomach lurched. A vampire, and one who was pleased with themselves. I’d come too far now. I pushed aside the yellow tape and stepped into the building.
Straight away, the smell of rot was evident. Climbing one of the two staircases, I followed the stench to the second floor, past discarded mattresses and the few abandoned possessions. I found what I was looking for at the far end between two large windows allowing light in from the street. Painted in dark heart’s blood, a message still read blackly against the paint-chipped wall.
When it rains, it falls on the rose petals.
My head swam. It was worse than I’d imagined. Friends were dead, and it was my fault. It was as if I’d murdered them myself. It may have been better if I had. I could have caught them asleep and sent them on oblivious and peaceful. But this? This blood that stained the wall was from a still-beating heart!
I don’t know how long I stood there, transfixed by the message on the wall. Eventually, I dragged my eyes around the room, looking for clues as to who had died. There was no sign of a dog, so possibly not Big Bob and Tiffany? As for Trish and the other half dozen who had made their home here? I had no idea. Pulling out my phone, I found the number of the Mission Australia social worker who used to keep an eye on the Surry Hills homeless. My hands shaking, I brought up the contact and listened as the phone rang.
“Yes, hi,”
“Good evening. I’m calling about a couple of homeless who hang around the Surry Hills area. I haven’t seen them around, and I heard some rumours….I was wondering if I could talk to you about it?” I sounded so smooth, so much the concerned but detached citizen I nearly laughed. Was this really happening?
“Yes,” She sounded hesitant. Probably fearful of the voyeurs, “Anyone in particular you’re enquiring about?”
“Two by name. Trish, a middle-aged woman with blond hair and a man named Big Bob who has a dog named Tiffany?”
I could feel tension ease on the other end of the line. I wasn’t a voyeur. I knew these people.
“There has been an incident. The police found four bodies, but we really don’t know how many more were…well, the squat has been abandoned, and we haven’t been able to find the others. I’m sorry, I don’t know where your friends are.”
I was frozen. My friends torn apart, the others scattered and lost. I didn’t know where to start looking for them, and I didn’t even know if I should.
“Hello? Are you still there? Do you want to talk?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Look, if you have any information, I have the name of a detective handling the case,” she said, and I could hear her flipping through pages in a notebook. I was sure she was going to say, Detective Woodman. It would have made some perverse sense if it had been Woodman.
“Here it is. They’re asking anyone with information to ring triple 0 and ask for Francis Tuttle.”
“Francis Tuttle?” It’s such a friendly name. Someone you could trust with the investigation of murdered friends.
“Yes. Look, I can hear your distress. Do you want to talk about it?”
She sounded so concerned, genuinely caring, “No…I’ve taken up too much of your time. I do want to thank you for…everything you do…for…I appreciate it.”
“Thank you, we try.”
I hung up.
I did a quick search for Francis Tuttle NSW police. There wasn’t much. A news article titled Drugs Off the Streets mentioned the man and his daughter, Sasha. A YouTube short about him called him a “Pillar of the Community.” He existed, at least as far as I could gather.
Glancing outside, I noticed the aura had disappeared from the top of the building opposite. It now glowed in the shadows under a tree right below the window where I stood. There was less red now and more rose-colored. They felt generous…benevolent even.
I climbed down the stairs and back out onto the street.
“Rain,” The dark-skinned man beckoned me as I ducked under the police tape.
“You know my name? I’m flattered.” I was determined that this man would not see how shaken I was.
“You shouldn’t be. You should have known better,” His rich voice and accent made the man sound almost fatherly. Then I remembered the blood.
“I take it that was your message?”
He nodded.
“We fixed your mistake. This is your responsibility.”
“You made that very clear.”
“You should thank us. We did you a favour. In these dark nights, we need to look out for each other.”
I swallowed a cry of bitter expletives.
“So what should I call my benefactor? You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
He thought about that for a long while.
“You may know me as Cabolut Hazzim.”
I looked into his hard dark eyes, watching the aura swirl from calm and generous to suspicious and distrustful.
“I will remember,” Was all I could say without breaking down. I would not give him the pleasure. It was time to go.
“Are there any more we should be aware of?” He asked as I turned away and didn’t look back.
I don’t remember the ride home. It was all I could do not to weep. How would crying tears of blood in public go down with the Masquerade? Needless to say, I was not in the mood to deal with Guissepi when I spied him at my door. I circled around the alley behind Harris Street and sent a message to Luna, who was alone in the house.
GUISSEPI’S AT THE DOOR. WATCH OUT.
I snuck into the house via the garage, ensuring the squeaky roller door didn’t give away my location. Luna and I crossed paths in our small garden. Her thick curtains flying out her open window.
“I’m going to the bar. At least I know he’s not there,” she said, leaving the way I’d come in. For a moment, I thought of going with her. She’d proven herself a trusted confidant in the past. I decided I didn’t want the noise and bustle of the bar tonight.
“I’ll text you when he leaves.”
“Good plan,” She nodded and closed the roller door.
Stallion, dawdling back from the convenience store with his purchases, met Guissepi waiting for him outside the house.
“Yeah! Let’s go get a dog drunk!” Cheered Guissepi by way of starting the celebrations.
“I’m hoping to convince Luna to get drunk. That girl needs to lighten up,” Stallion replied, opening the door with his key and welcoming Guissepi inside.
I was making my way through Lenny’s studio when I heard them come through the front door. Lenny was still asleep, my notes open on his chest. He’d been reading them. Maybe later together, we could make some sense out of it all, but right now I was just glad he was safe and sound. I quickly crossed the room, stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind me. My nerves were shredded. I needed time to decompress before dealing with more drama, but it wasn’t to be. Instead, I used the few moments before Stallion burst into the kitchen to centre myself. When they found me, I was tidying the kitchen, brushing away a few stray crumbs from Lenny’s day.
“Slobbers!” Stallion yelled, and the ever-obedient Blanco trundled himself down the stairs. With a huge grin on his squat face, the dog looked up at his master in adoration.
“We’re getting drunk in celebration of last night’s victory. Come and join us, Rain!” Stallion brandished the two bottles of bourbon, and I heard my beast growl in appreciation. Yes, that’s what I wanted. Get blind drunk, dull the nerves and cloud the memory. Then I saw Guissepi grab the bottle of King’s Brewery Bourbon and chase the dog back up the stairs to the lounge. I thought about a drunk Guissepi and the sleeping Lenny in the next room. I thought of my own safety if I let my guard down in front of Mr Giovanni’s ghoul.
“Not to my taste, Stallion. You know I’m a Glenfiddich man,” I replied, trying to look as cheerful as he seemed.
“Well, the invitations open,” He replied and started after Guissepi.
Not about to leave those two drunk alone in my house, I followed.
Guissepi had already cornered the dog and was pouring the King’s Brewery down his throat.
“Here doggo! Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Being no more than 30 kilogram, it didn’t take long for Blanco to lose control of his dog body and collapse onto his side, passed out.
“Here!” Guissepi now grabbed my attention, “Look at this cool trick.” He skulled the remaining King’s Brewery and then slapped his wrist raising a vein.
“Take some,” he offered his outstretched wrist. I could see the pulse there, throbbing away under the skin. I could almost taste the rawness of the alcohol burn down my throat. I didn’t want anything more than I wanted what he offered.
Stallion, swigging straight from his Jim Beam, saved me by grabbing Guissepi’s wrist and biting.
“Go ahead, Rain. Live a little.”
“You’re my guest. I don’t expect anything from you,” I replied with a forced smile. It didn’t matter, he was too wasted to care.
Blanco, unconscious, started making a puddle of piss on the floor.
“Ah, Jesus Slobbers!” Stallion leapt to the defence of my hardwood floor and, picking the dog up, held him out the open window to clear the rest of his bladder.
“Stallion! What will the neighbours think?” I took the dog from his hands and started back down the stairs, “You stay with your guest. I’ll look after the dog.”
I left them to drink as I cleaned Blanco of piss and laid him out in his dog bed.
“At least you look like you’ll have a peaceful night,” I lamented to the unconscious dog and went back to the party.
Evicted from her home, Luna was in a foul mood as she entered the Crowbar.
“Why can’t we have nice friends?” She grumbled to herself as she contemplated what she was going to do with the rest of her night. Izac was meant to be around the bar somewhere. She sent him a message.
I’M AT THE CROWBAR. GO TO THE LIBRARY WITH ME? She was surprised by the response.
I’M ON MY WAY TO THE ROCKS TO DO A JOB.
CUSTOM HOUSE AT CIRCULAR QUAY HAS A LIBRARY.
RIGHT, SEE YOU THERE.
Izac was heading to see Mother. Nervously, he watched every stormwater grate for signs of beady Nosferatu eyes staring back. At the King’s Hotel, he nodded to the two burly bouncers at the door and headed inside.
“Hi, is Mother in?” He asked at the bar.
“Always, I’ll tell her you’re here,” The barman smiled. They all knew Izac, the good boy. He didn’t wait long and was soon ushered into a private room where an old woman waited.
“Mother Pasta,” Izac said with genuine affection.
“Izac, nice of you to come and see Mother,” She said, giving him a hug.
“Keeping healthy?” He asked, concerned the old woman looked frailer than last visit.
“Trying to. I’m getting old, Izac. It’s the medicines, you see. They’re not doing what they used to.”
“Oh?” Izac asked. Did Mother need something of him? Something that would help pay back his debt and secure his relationship with the pack?
“What I need is a little young blood that would do the trick,” She looked up at Izac, and he could feel the weight of the request before she even said a word, “I can’t ask the pack. They wouldn’t understand. Could you get me some? Get some young blood for sick Mother Pasta?”
“Mother,” Izac, his voice low and gentle, “You know me better than that.”
“Please, just between us.”
It was hard. This kind old lady who had only ever helped him when he had nothing to give. But he couldn’t do it. Not even for her.
“I’m sorry, Mother.” And he was.
“Well…” she patted his hand and sat back in her chair. ” What can Mother Pasta do for you today?”
“I was hoping you could find someone for me. Find them and arrange a meeting with me.”
“Hmmm,” the old gentle Mother’s expression was replaced by the shrewd and calculating expression of the leader of a werewolf pack. And what do we get out of it?”
“What do you want?”
“There is something. A tradition. Like a great hide and seek that runs all over Sydney.”
“Sounds like something that would anger the Prince.”
“You need to ask him.”
“I can try.”
“Good boy, “ She smiled, and kind Mother was back, “Now, who do you want us to find? Any details?”
Izac grabbed a paper and wrote down what details he could remember. He handed it to her in silent gratitude.
“Oh, by the way. Who else is living with you?” She asked casually, a simple afterthought.
“I…where?”
“In Pyrmont, the new house you’re staying at. There is something like a dog, but we can’t speak to it.”
Slobbers.
“What happened to that other dog? I hope you didn’t kill him. It would be cruel to put him through that.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Not a problem,” He smiled. That’s what Rain did, right? Smile and waved off people’s concerns? It seemed to work.
“Very well, “ She held up the piece of paper with his notes on it, “We’ll let you know when and where.”
“And it needs to be done quietly. Total discretion.”
“Your kind will never know.”
“By the way, any news about that girl you were looking for?
Mother Pasta became distressed, “No, nothing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” And he was, but it didn’t stop him from closing the door behind him as he left.
Luna was people-watching at Circular Quay. At almost any time of day, people were walking from nearby hotels to the Opera House or one of the many restaurants Quayside. The ferries and trains carried thousands home from work or out for a night on the town. None of them were Izac. Bored and fed up with her friends’ unreliability, she started walking along the foreshore towards the bridge and The Rocks nestled underneath.
The yellow sandstone that made up much of the oldest building in this area reflected the lights from the many outdoor bistros and bars so that in the evening darkness, the streets seemed to glow. Here, the road was more residential, and the only sound of traffic came from the multilane highway above her head. Luna saw little of this as she inwardly grumbled. Where was Rain? Sulking around the house? Making sure Guissepi didn’t drool on the carpet? How about Stallion? Couldn’t he have invited her to one of his fights, so she could refuse to go? It was like she didn’t exist.
Suddenly, two rough hands grabbed her and started pulling her back along the street. From the cursing of the voice in her head, she knew, without looking, that it had to be Izac.
“What are you…? Get off me!”
“Luna! What are you doing here?!”
“Looking for you, obviously.”
She looked up at Izac to see him furtively glancing around, particularly back towards a pub only tens of metres away. Two bouncers seemed to have taken particular notice of them.
“You’re being weird,” She pulled herself from his grasp and tried to keep up as Izac set a fast pace in the opposite direction.
“It’s not the safest for you here right now,” He said without explanation.
“And why not?” What had got him in such a lather?
“Think, Luna. It’s in your best interest not to go near the King’s Hotel,” He stressed the name of the pub.
“What?” Why was he being so awkward?
Leaning down so all she could see was his face, he whispered, “Big hairy people don’t like those who drink blood.”
Oh!! She grabbed his arm and joined him in the quick walk back to safety.
They marched out of the Rocks, back to Circluar Quay and the Library at Customs House. Though it had been her idea, Izac was more interested in research once they were safe inside the shelves of the public library.
“What are you looking for?” She asked as Izac scoured the shelves in the 363 section of the non-fiction, “I can help.”
“No, nothing in particular,” he sighed when he didn’t find what he was looking for, “I guess there’s nothing here.
“Come on, I’ll take you for a ride.”
The revellers upstairs had been talking about Stallion’s new bike. That is to say, Stallion was talking very loudly, and Guissepi was slurring encouraging sounds. I had tried being the good host, but even the drunken Guissepi could tell my heart wasn’t in it tonight, and I soon gave a feeble excuse and left. That’s when talk of the bike had begun. Harmless at first, Stallion sang the praises of his new prized possession to his ever more inebriated companion.
“Yeah! Go for…. ride!” Guissepi repeated, and both stumbled down the stairs and out the door. It was the stumbling that gave me a chance to collect myself. If they’d been less drunk, I’d have had no chance of catching them. As it was, I ran after them, flying out the door, and only just caught the handlebars as Stallion, with Guissepi on pillion, went to turn over the engine. Stallion easily yanked the handlebars out of my hand.
“Whoop! “ Guissepi cried, almost falling off the stationary bike.
“Wait your turn, Rain. We’ll be back in a tick,” Stallion laughed as the engine purred to life.
I moved, placing a leg each side of the front wheel, and stepped as close to Stallion as I could. I turned on Presence. Instantly, both Stallion and Guissepi were paying attention to nothing but me.
“This is not a good idea, Stallion. Come inside, stay here with me. Please?” I don’t know what I was pleading for. For them not to kill themselves? Not likely, though having to explain the loss of Guissepi to Mr Giovanni was not a great thought. That they stay with me in my time of need? I’d already shunned their drunken company once. To somehow beg my murdered friends back? Guissepi decided for himself what my plea meant.
“Hey, yeah. Stallion, we could stay, share a bed…have a threesome…sure,” He slurred and stumbled off the bike. Stallion thought a moment longer.
“If you want Stallion. Come with me, please.” I held out my hand.
He turned off the bike, pocketed his keys and smiled.
“For you, Rain, anything.”
I nearly wept as I followed them back into the house, making sure to pick the bike keys from Stallion’s pocket before heading upstairs. They climbed the stairs on all fours, and I guided them to Stallion’s room, where the clumsy foreplay began.
There’s an art to dealing with an amorous drunk. It’s more about biding your time. Slowly removing clothing, strokes, sighs, and heavy petting until they eventually fall asleep. If you’re lucky, you don’t even have to get undressed yourself as they slowly entangle themselves in their own random discards. It was no different with two, just more limbs.
They lay, Guissepi spooned against Stallion, snoring into the bedclothes. What would have been hilarious under normal circumstances just made me sad. Good people had died, and here I was babysitting two sloveny drunks? The two empty bottles reminded me of Guissepi’s offer, and this time I couldn’t find it in me to resist. Taking his wrist, I bit and let the alcohol-infused blood in. He’d had his share of Jim Beam since the first offer, and it hit like a burning wave. It rushed to my head, and I welcomed it, washing away the loss and pain and fear. I wanted to keep drinking, wanted to slip into the oblivion that now held the two sleeping men. It would be so simple to just lay down beside them and drink and drink until…nothing.
Something made me pull away and drop the wrist. I could have drained Guissepi dry and damn the consequences…but not tonight. I savoured the buzz I’d gained and stepped away like the thief in my own home. I slunk back downstairs, not making a sound. The motorbike keys I left at the front door for Stallion to find in the morning and I returned to the kitchen to check on Blanco.
Across town, Mr Giovanni was also off to a library, the only library older than his own in all of Sydney. He parked outside a modern grey-rendered facade on an old brick building in Kent Street. He passed under an arch bearing a small symbol that barely drew the attention of those passing by. A six-sided star with an ankh at its centre, encircled by a snake eating its tail with a sauvastika in a circle at its head. Here, he browsed the shelves of ancient knowledge, seeking answers to his questions. Like Izac, even in these ancient halls, he was disappointed not to find the answers he sought.
It seemed it was to be a night of disappointments.
12 am 6 hours until sunrise – 14 days until The Succubus Club
*****************************************************************************************
Luna’s thoughts:
Bitten
She could not see it before.
Perhaps it was foolish.
She does not lead six hundred men. Has never seen the walls of Troy. Has built no Trojan Horse. But she can see it.
Slobbers was just an infant.
She told Polyphemus her name.
His father may not have destroyed her boats but he wants her to build a body.
Circe waits for her at the Succubus Club.
Where was her Eurylochus? When had she lost Polities?
A knock on her door.
“Hey, Luna.”
Odd. She doesn’t remember hearing Izac walk to her room. Her hand moved to pause the old man talking about Philip II at double speed.
The whole time they talked she could hear the Beast in her head whining.
Nooooo why are you talking to him?
Another question she asks, soft talking and softer prodding.
Stop befriending him.
She bites back a smirk.
The Underworld may be the Beast or a real place for all she knows. What she does know is that she is no tactician. No Athena chosen General. She’s a daughter of a knowledge keeper, built crudely in Cain’s image and she thirsts for what Eve bit from.
So, she’ll be Damned. Izac eats from no Lotus but his beliefs. He sings no siren song because there’s nothing she would jump off the ship for. Not that she knows. Perhaps a prophet does.
Let Teiresias of Thebes stay dead.
Her head snaps up, pulling an earphone out as Izac’s hurried form rushes to her, pushing her shoulders and tugging her arm. His worry was founded of course.
Luna stores away the idea of mapping out Wolf Dens across Sydney. Keys of vampire
provinces and their holders. That would be a fun project.
Izac and herself only find level grounding in a library. A joke sits there, she’s sure.
Diametrically opposed foes find equal footing in a cabinet filled of Curiosities. I-fucking-ronic.
So, she stands to his right. He’s taller but if she tried his shoulder would be a perfect
headrest.
She can’t tell what he looks for. Safest guest with the crime section would be Woodman. The state library may have some unscanned files in its bowels. Now THAT would be her kind of time.
Too bad the sun is unavailable and the library becomes legally inaccessible once the light dispels.
He doesn’t confirm what he’s looking for. Mistrust or lack of belief in her skill? Either way
she’s pouting.
…pouting…
A book would be a good redirection.
“You like history?”
By the name of Joseph, they truly know nothing of each other.
*****************************************************************************************
Izac’s Musings:
Intermission
Everyone seems well recovered after the events in the alleyway. My ears have stopped ringing and can see as clear as I ever could. Gotta say the place is kind of nice. Last time I was here I caused no small stir amongst the group. Luna seems in good mood, researching on something or other. Stallion running out of the house for bourbon. Rain leaving without much of a word.
Rain. That man is one of both inspiration and deception in equal measure. He seems to want to make a safe haven for the Kindred, but I suspect there is more below the surface. I know for a fact he holds no qualms of deceiving humans for blood, I just wonder if it is truly out of necessity or if there is a satisfaction in pulling the wool over another’s eyes.
There is one missing however, one I loathe but understand his necessity. Unfortunately, he is the one I need to talk to. For now, the Crowbar. From there I have another stop to make before sunrise.
Favours. The currency to those who suddenly have no value for cash. The King’s Hotel is as busy as ever, I should come round more and speak with the others again, it’s been too long. Last time was an in and out affair and I suspect this will be the same. Luna wants to meet up.
Mother Pasta, I worry about her. More rather, I’m beginning to worry about her mental state. The mention of the girl she asked me about not too long ago seems to distress her more. I hope she finds what she is looking for, though her insistence of “young blood” disturbed me. She knows my stance on that, and as expedient as it would be I had to decline. Instead, I will have to meet the prince once again, this time on her pack’s behalf. They want to play some sort of game, “like your traditions” Mother equated it, a game of hide and seek. Sounds to me like they want someone dead, I just wonder whom.
Though agreeing to meet at the library, Luna decided to grace the front door of the Kings with her presence. I’m glad that I left when I did, a minute later and a murder occurring on the Quay would break tomorrow mornings news.
Public libraries are quiet places. If I wasn’t embraced, I could probably still hear my heart beating in the silence. For now, the crime section and a reminder of things. I didn’t even notice Luna offer her help until she jammed a finger in my rib to get my attention. I don’t know what I should tell her. Problems shared are problems halved as they say but, in this case, I worry that line of questions could double the problems for everyone involved. It’s not that I don’t trust her, after all she kept watch over me while I was blind and deaf in the marauders dream world. But it’s more than that. You know that it is more than that.
If you hadn’t left maybe things would have been different… Why did you go anyway?
Notable NPCs
Avel: Rain’s mother, a wraith.
Bobby Lisner: Malkavian seer who lives in an old Sewer pipe in The Rocks.
Brendan Virgil: A.K.A. Miss Divine Intervention. Rain’s close friend.
Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni
Cabolut Hazzim: the name given by a vampire who cleared out the homeless at Rain’s old squat
Detective Woodman: NSW Policed premiere detective and a sufferer of schizophrenia. He has an assistant currently called Notetaker.
Francis Tuttle: Name given in charge of the investigation into the deaths of homeless in Surry Hills.
Garcia: Sire. Unknown location.
Giuseppe Giovanni: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni. Some sort of relative of Mr Giovanni.
Lenny: Rain’s Ghoul and artist friend
Madeline Blackwell: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni, working at the State Coroners Court.
Night Rider: Red-haired vampire? Works for the Prince.
Pangea: a Nosferatu (tunnel builder)
Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats
Prince Sarrasine (Sar-ras-seen): Toreador Ruler of Sydney*
Sparrow: a Nosferatu of the warren in Pyrmont, closest to home
Glossary of terms:
Anarchists: a faction of Vampires. Caused issues in Los Angeles recently, killed the Prince.
Antediluvian: from before the time of the biblical flood. The third generation that were the progenitors of the thirteen clans of vampires.
Blood hunt: A process to destroy a vampire who has broken a tradition. Specifically mentioned in the sixth.
Canaanites: Those descended from Cain, the first murderer and vampire.
Camarilla: a faction of Vampires closest to the Princes. Believe in hierarchy and order.
Clan or Bloodline: From one the 13 antediluvians.
Marauder: A mage gone mad. Living in his own pocket dimension that answers to the whim of his broken mind.
Diablerie : the drinking another vampire blood and soul
Favour: How Vampires pay for things they want or need doing.
Fetter: A place, person or thing that binds a wraith to the Shadowlands.
Ghouls: Servants of a vampire who have been fed vitae. They are loyal, stronger, more resilient and sometimes show other powers gained from the blood. They must receive the blood at least once a month or they return to being human. Can be addictive.
Hunter: Members of the Society of Leopold, a branch of the Catholic Church. Fanatical vampire hunters and killers.
Kin: Vampires, a name among themselves
Kine: Humans
Marauder: a rouge mage, often mad. They are likely to act in a way that exposes the Otherworld of the Masquerade to exposure.
Men in Black: An international unit dedicated to controlling supernatural and alien entities.
Sabbat: a faction of Vampires that believe that the progenitors of the clans will one day awake and eat all their young.
Masquerade : The rule that keeps vampire society safe. Hiding ones nature from the world.
Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.
*Sarrasine, a novella by Balzac. Sarrasine is a sculpture who is infatuated with an Opera Singer, Zambinella. She thinks herself cursed and deflects his advances. At a performance, Zambinella is revealed to Sarrasine to be a castrato. In a rage, Sarrasine attacks the singer, only to be cut down and killed by their bodyguard.
A Strange Life 