A Strange Life

11.50 pm 6 hours until sunrise.

The cool breeze after the dank tunnel hit me like a slap, and I was aware that my companions were already walking back to the car. 

“Hey, wait up. Don’t you want to talk about what we heard back there?” I called after them.”That was probably the most profound thing that’s ever happened to me.  I can’t believe you can just walk away without talking about it.”

“What?  More profound than being killed and made into a vampire?” Luna retorted, and I had to admit she had me.

“To be fair, it hasn’t lived up to expectations…except the blood…that was definitely a number one, but this prophecy comes a close second.”

“I have a path to follow,” Stallion mused, giving me hope that something does get through the smoke haze.  I latched onto it like a drowning man.

“See, that was interesting. And regardless of how the Gangrels have left you, I want you to know you’re not alone.  You have us, right?”  I looked at Luna, but she rolled her eyes and kept walking.

I continued my train of thought with Stallion, “I was surprised that Bobby would also suggest keeping your ability to eat a secret. It must be more important than we imagined.”

When I couldn’t draw him out on the fortune anymore, I quickened my pace to walk alongside Luna.

“I actually took comfort from your fortune.”

“You can if you like.”

“I mean it.  All that about the age being dark, but you’ve not darkened yet.”

“So?”

“Well, your aura is quite dark, and you don’t seem to care much about the people in your life.  I was worried.”

“Black.  White.  Good and bad.  Life’s shades of greys, anything else is oversimplifying.”

Okay, that was more than I’d got out of her all night, “Don’t get me wrong, I know the greys.  I’m just glad to know you’re more than you seem.”

We were now at street level, walking along Hickson Road. I looked up at the lights of the Harbour Bridge. Suddenly, I was aware this was literally the first day of the rest of my life.  

“Hey, we died last night.  We deserve a Wake. A party.”

Mr Giovanni looked daggers in my direction, “You had that.  At the restaurant.”He said, ushering us towards the car.

“What do you have in mind?” Stallion said behind.

“Well, have you ever climbed that?”  I pointed to the bridge.  As the second tallest structure in the City, it dominated the harbour, linking the north to the south.

“It’s a bridge,” Mr Giovanni drawled, “As those things need maintenance, I would suggest it’s climbed regularly.

“By us, I mean.  Stallion, Luna, have either of you been to the top?”

“Nah,” Stallion replied without enthusiasm.

“No, but why would I want to?” Luna asked.

“What would you like to do?  It’s your wake, too, remember?
“We tend to refer to it as our Birthday, “ Mr Giovanni had the car doors open. 

“Unlife day…ha, our Unalive Day…” Stallion quipped, climbing into the back of the car.

 I turned to Luna, who was seriously contemplating my question.

“I’d like to skydive,” She finally said.

“At night?  What a thought!  We can’t do that tonight, but the bridge is right there!” I gestured to the almost one-hundred-year-old structure as she climbed into the car.

“It’s the sort of thing that would break the Masquerade…” 

I groaned and didn’t listen to the rest. Something about angry people and flamethrowers. It was the first day of the rest of my life, and I was hiding as usual. Defeated for now, I, too, took my seat at the back of the car, and Mr Giovanni drove us out of the City to the west and his offices at the State Coroner’s Court in Lidcombe.

12.36 pm 5 hours until sunrise

The Coroner’s Court was a clean, modern building beside the historical Rookwood Cemetery and looked like the last place a group of vampires would be, despite its location.  The office lights were on when we arrived as another of Mr Giovanni’s ghouls was on duty, a young medical student called Madeline Blackwell. 

“I’m checking up on business.  You should clean up in the shower after your walk in the sewers,” He gestured towards a tile-clad room before turning to Madeline, “Anything interesting tonight?”

“A few, Mr Giovanni.  A hit and run.  One self-asphixiation.  An overdose and a suicide by glass.”

“Jesus! Does no one die of old age anymore?” I asked, distracted from showering by what ‘suicide by glass’ meant.

Madeline walked over to a bank of refrigerated draws and pulled one open.  Under a sheet lay the body of a man who looked like he’d been nearly cut in half by a pane of glass.  You could see his vertebrae.

“That’s a suicide?” I asked before being shooed off by Mr Giovanni’s cold stare. 

“My job is to investigate. Yours is to get clean.”

I stepped back with the others but couldn’t help listening to Madeline and Mr Giovanni’s discussion.

“There seems to be very little blood..”

“Not a lot found at the scene either,”

“And this angle, no one could have…”

“Could have fallen onto it?”
“But the force required.  Would have needed to fall several storeys.”

“Curious, he was found inside.”

Mr Giovanni rolled up his sleeve and started pulling away the torn skin to expose the internal organs.

“This seems more supple than the expected rigour mortis. Has someone been in this man’s innards?”

“I don’t know, sir.  Sometimes the delivery guys are clumsy…”

“Regardless, I don’t think this was just a suicide.  As I see it, they were assisted, or this was a murder?”

“That’s for the police to say, sir.” Madeline sighed, returning the sheet over the victim’s body and pushing the draw back into place.  

“Well, good work, Madeline.”  Mr Giovanni turned to leave for the showers himself before Madeline called him back. 

“Ah, sir.  I was wondering. It’s a month since…last time, and I was hoping you could spare some…”

“Yes, of course.” Mr Giovanni drawled, and on the arm where he’d pulled his sleeve away, he now cut a thin line into his wrist.  Madeline pounced on the exposed blood instantly and lapped it up.  It was the behaviour of an addict, desperate for what gave them life.  It was a shock to see from the calm and professional medical student.  Eventually, Mr Giovanni pulled Madeline off, and she wiped her bloodied mouth, returning to her calm, professional self. 

“Thank you, Madeline.  Keep up your studies, and see you tomorrow night,” He said as a dismissal.  She silently went back to her work.

We all showered quickly, Mr Giovanni returning to a severe black suit.  I gave up on my shoes.  They hadn’t been great to start with and were now beyond redemption.  I threw them in the bin for incineration.  I assumed my suit still smelled of a sewer, but I could detect nothing until I took a large breath in. Who’d have thought smell doesn’t work when you don’t breathe.  The antiseptic smell of the office only just covered up the stench of death. After that, I was glad we were going.

On the way back to the car, Mr Giovanni was on his phone again, this time to a tailor.

“Get ready. I’m coming over in twenty minutes, and I have three challengers for you.”

1.15 am 4 hours until sunrise

The black Jeep pulled up in a deserted Leichhardt back street in front of a small, tired-looking shop called Tap Alterations.  Dusty and filled with rolls of discarded material, it was not an inspiring place to find hot fashion.  We were here to find suits and a dress suitable to be seen in by the Prince.  At the thought of this impending introduction to vampire society, I was reminded of a mistake I made earlier.

“Um, guys,” I turned to Luna and Stallion, who were just as unimpressed with the establishment as I was, “I may have been a little rash on the beach earlier. I would appreciate it when we go to see the Prince you don’t mention anything about Garcia when talking about me.”

“That’s assuming I’d be talking about you,” Luna replied.

“Harsh, but I’ll take it.”  I turned to Stallion.

“Hey, your Garcia, me Garcia,” He said by way of reassuring me.  I’m sure it was meant to be a joke.

“Thanks.” 

Mr Giovanni had cornered the shop’s owner, a bald elderly man as tired and dusty as his shop.  He was introduced as Mr Giovanni’s personal tailor. Fine, if you wanted to dress as a clone of a mafia boss, but I had other ideas.  I pulled out my phone to a series of images I’d collected.   All of them the latest in haute couture for men, all in stunning white microfibres.

“Yes, I have a few ideas.  I particularly like this one with the sash, but if the fushia splash at the end could be a deep red? Vest of the same material, no shirt, and I want this on prominent display,” I pulled on the leather thong around my neck and pulled out the disc of clear resin containing the embroidered daisy.

“What do you require for this one?” The man ignored my requests completely, referring to Mr Giovanni.

“This one needs to stand out, I think,” 

“Very well sir, I suggest something like this?” And he pulled out a black tuxedo, all decorated in gold and red silk embroidery and a matching vest.  Now, as tuxedos go, it was a marvel, and I would have gladly worn it to any everyday grand gala.  But this was our coming out, my one and only chance to make a big impression. I had a vision, and this wasn’t it.

“Come on, it’s not even white. The button-down isn’t required, I want the flower to be front and centre of the décolletage for everyone to see. And I refuse to wear the bow tie.”

The two older men exchanged glances.

“Yes, this is suitable, but as he suggests,” Mr Giovanni finally said, and the topic of my suit seemed closed.

“Something more subdued for the homeless one?” The tailor now turned to Stallion, who had no idea he was now the attention of the old man’s scrutiny.

“Yes, something modest yet exotic would be very appropriate,” Mr Giovanni nodded.

A warm grey suit with Persian influences on the collar and sleeve was revealed, and we all stood in appreciation. On Stallion’s more muscular build, the suit would make him less the bouncer and more a young heir of a powerful family. I was coming to appreciate this man’s taste in clothes.

“And what about the third?” 

“Ah, yes, I’m not acquainted with fashions for the…female sex. What do you suggest?”

I had thought Luna would launch into a tirade about how she knew exactly how she should dress, and it wasn’t for two old men to determine what she’d look good in. I glanced sideways to see her demured and slightly overawed by the whole process. She genuinely seemed out of her depth and was just happy to have something to wear.  

“I have two suggestions, sir.  The first is regal,” And he pulled out what I would guessed had been a medieval fancy dress costume. It was in a hideous deep emerald green satin with an expansive train and heavily embroidered front of gold and lace. With it came a crown of the same colours. I’m sure it would look fantastic at a masked ball with an equally elaborate mask, but as a coming-out gown, it was a nightmare.  

“Oh, you can’t put Luna into that thing!” I cried as the second gown was revealed.

“And then there is this more formal.”

It was a strapless deep red satin in a more modern style.  It didn’t brush the ground nor did it drag behind in an unyielding train.  The satin was decorated with white Swarovski crystals in stylised flowers and vines.  The waist and skirt were ruched in the same material.  It was flamboyant and startling, perfect for our flaming brujah.  At the sight of this second dress, I started to wonder if they’d brought out the first one only as some sad joke.

“What do you think?” I whispered to Luna, who stood silently looking between the two dresses.

“Red?”

“Good choice.  It will hide the stains better.”

At this, Luna laughed. Not a sarcastic bark or a scoffing snort but a full joyous laugh.  I took that as a silent win, and the red dress was selected.

Even Mr Giovanni himself treated himself to a new look for the occasion. Unlike the middle-aged, middle-class funeral director look that was his usual style, the tailor pulled out a slim-lined all-black, single-breasted suit (down to the shirt and tie) with a jacard print of some random flowers. It was impressive, thoroughly boss. I was impressed Mr Giovanni could pull it off.

“While we’re here and I have four hundred and fifty dollars to spend, I’m wondering if I could buy another suit?” I asked as one by one the shop owner (I never did get his name) took down our measurements and we sorted through his small collection of shoes. 

“You think you can get a suit for four hundred and fifty dollars?” Mr Giovanni scoffed, but it was clear to even him that my second-hand suit that had been lying in wet sand for half a day wasn’t longed for this world.

“Just something off the rack.  It doesn’t have to be anything special,” I said, hoping this marvel of materials could pull out another surprise.

“How about this?” He said, pulling out a mauve three piece suit out of seemingly nowhere. It was all I could have hoped for.

“Could it have a red lining?”

“Can you pick it up tomorrow?”

I took it with the original lining.

Dressed to impress, the three of us looked pretty fine.  Luna in red heels was now taller than me, and I lamented that men’s fashions failed at heals.

“If you want to wear heal, wear them. Who cares what they think?” Luna said.  I care, but I appreciated the sentiment.

“If you want to wear heels bro, you go right ahead.  I’ll bash anyone who says a word against you.” Stallion added.  It was probably the kindest thing anyone has said to me. 

I went and found some men’s shoes with heels. 

We drove back to the pub, stepping out looking fly: Loonie Luna, Stallion with the Medalion and me, Purple Rain. The bar was quieter now, with only thirty patrons in clusters around the room.  

“We have a basement area for…VIPs,” Said Mr Giovanni, selecting a group to invite below.

“What? Is this some sort of sex thing?” One asked as his friends cheerfully followed Mr Giovanni down a flight of stairs to a second smaller bar. 

“Only if you want it to be, “ I joked, but this man was more than a little spooked by the scene.

“Relax.  This is a safe place away from the watching eyes.  You can be yourself down here.”
“Oh yeah?  Wadhavyagot?” He asked in the local language.  Stallion handed him one of his few remaining joints as we were handed ‘red’ drinks. It was cold, like that first on the beach, and I didn’t know how we’d got it, but blood is still sweet regardless.

“Hey, I want one of those!” One of the Joint guy’s buddies at the bar pointed at Luna and my glasses. The barman complied and made a cocktail that looked just like ours, without the hemoglobin.

“Urgh!  Some sort of liquor?” He asked shuddering, putting the glass down after one sip.

“An acquired taste.”

One by one, the four men at the bar started passing out, their drinks spiked with tranquilisers.  Joint man was becoming more paranoid by the minute.

“I’ve heard…about places like this…it looks great on the outside but…” and his eyes bugged out of their sockets at this point, “…their monster dungeons.”

“Now, now. I’d hate to see one of my guests upset,” Mr Giovanni said casually, guiding the man back to the bar. “Please have a drink on the house to show there’s no hard feelings. What do you say?”

Until this point, I had assumed that this was a chance for Mr Giovanni to have his choice of meal for the night.  Get them drunk then… smorgasbord for the evening until they were turfed out with the morning trash to stumble home.  As Mr Giovanni signalled to the barman to give this fellow two of whatever, I was sure that Mr Giovanni wasn’t just ‘eating in’ but that the men weren’t leaving.  He didn’t give me a lot of time to contemplate that thought as Joint man stumbled and slumped to the ground with his fellows, Mr Giovanni returned to us.

“And now you have a few hours until dawn. Have you thought about what you’d like to do now?  I have rooms for you in one of my hotels for today, but I’d like you to consider where you’d like to sleep from now on.”

I’d been thinking about this on and off throughout the night.  I wasn’t kidding about the old building I’d been squatting in.  She was a marvel.  A little love, effort and a lot of money would make her a home and business proposition.

“Whose owns the Surry Hill’s domain?” I asked, hoping it was some delightful Toreador that I could shower with attention.

“Surry Hills?  A gang that calls themselves the Motley.  Three Assamites and a Nosferatu, you don’t want to deal with them, trust me.  They’d sooner eat you as deal squarely.”

Well, there goes that dream…for now.  

“What we need is a business.  My trade has limited practical applications. What about you, Stallion, what do you do as a job?”

“Job?” I wasn’t sure if that was the weed or his inability to comprehend a job.  I turned to Luna.

“Don’t look at me, I’m a student.”

Great, vampire bums.

By way of trying to cheer me up, I believe, Stallion gave me a proposition.

“Say, Rain, why don’t you and me get out of these fancy clothes and wrestle.”

It wasn’t the sort of proposition I had considered from Stallion after his distaste for feeding from a man earlier in the evening.

“Well, I’m flattered and if you want to I guess…”

“Yeah, or fistacuffs, whichever.”

His meaning struck me almost as hard as his fists would have.

“Oh no, I don’t fight.  I can’t fight.  I am a lover, not a fighter.  I use words not…” Balling my hands up in front of me ineptly. 

“You will need to learn to fight though, Rain, “ This was Mr Giovanni, organising the storage of his…meals, “Either melee or with guns…”

“Guns?” I shuddered.  I hate guns.  Truly.  It wasn’t until my last group that I could overcome freezing up or vomiting or both when I heard a gunshot.  Long hours in a gun range dulled the reaction, but it never really left.

“What?  And you grew up in America?” Stallion replied dismissively, and I could only shrug.

“I’ll fight you,” Luna said quietly, changing the subject.  I could have kissed her. I didn’t.  I like my face the way it is.

“A girl?” Stallion again.  Could he be more cliche?

“Sure, Luna’s strong,” I said, partly to deflect from me and partly because I was curious to see what she could do, “You know, I’d put money on that…except I don’t have any now.”

“You could bet me a meal?” Stallion said, and I agreed heartily.

“Hey, what do I get if I win?” Luna asked, zipping herself out of her gorgeous evening gown.

Now, a curious thing happened here…or didn’t happen is more to the point.  Luna, a slim, well-proportioned young woman, stripped down to her underwear in front of both Stallion and me, and nothing happened.  Nothing rose to the occasion, as it were.  At the time, I gave it little thought, a second’s lack of shame or embarrassment and nothing more. Now. Have I gained the wonders of blood to lost sex? I wasn’t sure if it was a fair trade. 

“I want a boon,” She said, barefooted in panties and a strapless bra, “If I win, I want a boon from you.”

“Okay, cards on the table.  A boon to the winner.” Stallion agreed.

 Facing off, Stallion had the upper hand.  He had the height, reach, weight and muscle mass.  Luna was fit, and the glint in her eye said she looked forward to smashing Stallion in the face. Who was I to stop her?

She threw out a fist, hitting Stallion but barely making him move.  It was more of a love tap. Stallion swung a massive haymaker that knocked Luna sideways and drew blood. I winced. That had to hurt.  Luna struck back, this time harder, and it was Stallion’s turn to bleed. Stallion drew upon an internal reserve, and a flash of red lit his eyes.  He’d let the blood speak to him.

As luck would have it, he slipped in something on the floor and fell forward, smacking his face into the concrete.  Luna didn’t miss a beat.  She leapt on the prone Stallion and grabbed the hair on the back of his head.

“Now, how about you tell me how this tastes?” She said and slammed his head into the ground with a solid crack.  

If Stallion had fired up the blood before, it was now boiling as he rolled away and got up. He was mad, in both meanings of the word, and I feared he’d knock her block off without meaning to.  I had to intervene.  

“Stallion. Do you really want to be known as the one who hurt a sister of the blood the night before meeting the Prince?”  I could feel my blood stirring; something more than the words left me. It gave Stallion pause, and his stance slackened.  It was enough for Luna to smack him with another good hit, raising a bruise.

Still, the next moment, Stallion grappled Luna and held her in a choke hold that would have downed a big bear of a man, it would have killed a petite young woman.  Still, she fought, spitting in his face like a wild cat and squirming in his grasp. Unfortunately, it was clear Stallion had won, and handsomely. 

“Come on, Stallion.  You won fair and square.  Let’s go get you that drink, hey?” I said.

“She has to concede,”  He said his vce rough, not his usual calm coolness. Luna’s bloodied spittal rolled down his face.

“Luna, there’s no shame in conceding to the better fighter,” Mr Giovanni tried the other side of the skirmish.  She spat again and conceded.  Stallion won his boon.

“Once you’ve cleaned up, I’d like to share a few words of wisdom with Luna,”  Mr Giovanni said.  The subtext was he wanted us two out of the way for a while. Fine with me. I promised Stallion a drink, and I am a man of my words.  I got him a bar towel full of ice for his bruises as he dressed again.

“Did you do something to me?” Stallion asked as I handed over the ice.

“No, not me.  Words, nothing but words, my friend.  But words have power.”  He didn’t seem convinced.

“I wanted her to win, but what could I do?  I gave her some words of encouragement.  I reminded you of your better nature.”

“It was just…I felt weird…” He was less sure of himself now.

“Look, she gave all she could and did well, but you are the better fighter.  I’m glad to know it personally.  I’m used to having a good fighter at my side.”

“Yeah?  You know I could teach you a few things,” Stallion put his hand on my shoulder, in I’m sure was a friendly gesture.  I sank under its weight.  

“Let’s go find you a meal, hey?”

It didn’t take long.  There were a few available options in the early morning streets of Leichhardt.  A couple falling asleep in the folly in the park.  Another one trying to hide his joint in a bush.  I liked him. Already shifty and convenient to a dark place where Stallion could wait.  

“Hey friend, do you need help there?” I asked him, feeling very respectable in my purple suit.

“Fuck off ya weirdo, I don’t need your help,” He growled back but was both drunk and high and unable to coordinate himself.  It was a simple task to guide him where I wanted him.

“If you are looking for something, there’s a safe place not far.”

“I don’t…what…what have ya got?”

“Him,” I turned and handed off to Stallion, gliding away to keep a lookout while Stallion fed.  He mugged the man and left him penniless but breathing.  I closed the wound.  Nothing to see here, officer.

Stallion was feeling good now, floating on a cloud of smoke while I walked beside him, just grateful to be there.  

2.40 pm 3 hours until sunrise

It had been a good night, and the blood stirred in my veins for action.  Like many inner city parks, an ancient fig stood, its gnarled roots clamping it to the ground as its broad canopy blotted out the sky. Right then, I knew I wanted to climb that tree as far as possible.

“In your new fancy suit?” Stallion said, and even through his own purple haze, I had to concede his point.  I removed my new jacket and vest, loosened the shirt with a few stretches and then let the blood sing. What a rush, literally.  I burst forward and ran up the tree trunk, stopping at a branch two-thirds the way up.

Hey, what now!  We’re up a tree! Said the voice that sounded so much like my own, Now, what?  Feed?

I’ve been wanting to talk to you, I replied honestly.  Always best to be honest with yourself, We have to work together if we’re going to survive this life, right?

Yeah, I’m you, and you’re me.  What about it?

I just wanted you to know you can trust me to do the best for you, right?  That’s all I need from you, your trust.

We’ll see, The blood answered cryptically.  I didn’t care. At that moment, I was on top of the world. I threw my hands up and howled into the night like the madman I was.  

I was twenty metres off the ground in a tree in the best suit I’d ever owned with no clear way to get down. So, I tried running back down the way I’d gone up.  It was wild and stupid, and it hurt a lot when I hit the ground very fast. I knew I hadn’t killed myself a third time when I heard Stallion falling down laughing above me.  He threw me my vest and jacket, and  I took in the damage. I had scuffed shoes, a torn shirt, and an abrasion on my new purple trousers. Still, I stood, brushed myself off and put my vest and jacket back on while Stallion guffawing the whole time. Again, the heavy hand was on my shoulder.  Well, it wasn’t the first time I’d won over the bully by being the clown. 

We walked back to the pub, aware that this first night of our new lives was quickly coming to an end.

Back at the bar, the sound of two shouting voices was clear.  I strained my hearing but could only make out that it was Mr Giovanni and Luna.  I’d heard the word half clearly stressed by Mr Giovanni but had no idea what that meant. Stallion was still giggling as we finally joined them, and the argument ceased.

“I am glad to see Stallion so cheerful, I assume, were able to acquire him a meal?”

“Yes, no problem.  I kept a lookout and tidied up afterwards.” I replied succinctly.

“Yeah, I’m on a trip.  You had a trip. I’m still on mine.” Stallion added and broke into hysterical laughter.

“What does he mean by that?  Where did you go? Did you check for cameras?”

To be honest, I had not. But I wasn’t interested in being yelled at by Mr Giovanni as Luna had.  Though I would have deserved it for that oversight.  I wondered what she’d done to deserve hers?

“We were in the local park.  As I said, I scoped it out, kept a look out while Stallion fed and then healed the wound.  Don’t worry about it.” I stared back defiantly.  It would be up to him to prove me wrong.  This time he couldn’t.

“No, there are no cameras.  Okay, well off to the hotel, the three of you.  Enjoy the first real night of sleep since you were tiny babies.” Right at that moment, he looked tired himself.  Being a new adopted father takes it out of you, it seems.

“Good night Mr Giovanni,” I said and swaddled in Stallions’ big arm, beside the contemplative Luna, we good children went to bed.

Notable NPCs

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

Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni

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*

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.  

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

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.  

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.

9.45 pm Eight hours until sunrise.

We left the restaurant like a flock of ducklings after their mother.  

“I have a great many businesses to run, but I also need to teach you lot. Hurry along.” Mr Giovanni said as he exited the back of the Piazza and entered the suburban streets of Leichhardt. The streets were alive with a smattering of people heading home after their meals or late-night shopping.  We merge into the flock of unsuspecting humans.  I was surprised to suddenly realise the difference between us and them.  How slow they walked and thought, the delicious smell that seemed to surround every single one of them.

“I have several businesses in Leichhardt,” Mr Giovanni said, “I also have offices in the Coroner’s building, a little hobby of mine, but it comes in handy.  I can make things…disappear.” 

“For a favour?” I asked. 

Mr Giovani smiled, “And now you are learning.” 

I always was a good student when given a chance.

We walked along Parramatta Road in silence. I, for one, was tallying up my losses.  Following the old man through the Sydney suburbs and four-hundred and fifty dollars in cash wasn’t what I had dug my grave for.  I guess that’s what you get when you believe people who say you’re unique or special.  Luna was quiet again.  The death of her…host?… didn’t seem to phase her, regardless of how often Mr Giovanni goaded her with the ‘murder’.  Even Stallion was nonplused by the dead body. That could have been the dope running through his system.  Not for the first time, I wondered who my sire had saddled me with.  Then I remembered a friend once telling me.

“You’re not a good person, but that’s because you’ve never had a chance to be better than what you are.”

I wondered if that was the same for Luna and Stallion, though I doubted this new chance in life was an opportunity for a clean slate. 

Across the street,  music flooded onto the footpath from behind the closed doors of the Crowbar.  Mr Giovanni went inside, and suddenly I was accosted by the smell of hundreds of humans in a small space.  What ventilation swept past me and out the door, filling my senses with…life!  Across the long, thin room, a band played some original tune I didn’t recognise. Leaving my companions behind, I wove through the chairs and tables to the side of the stage.  With a shiny American silver dollar, I reflected the stage light into the lead man’s eyes, hoping to gain his attention.  I did the trick.  As soon as the song was over, he bent down.

“Yeah, what?”

“I was hoping you’d play an old favourite. Throw your arms around me?” I asked politely, disregarding the cool stare.  He looked across the audience to someone at the back, standing next to Mr Giovanni.  The middle-aged man turned and said something to Mr Giovanni, who nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, alright,” said the lead man and turned to the rest of the band, cueing them up for the impromptu request. I couldn’t help feeling disappointed at ‘daddy’ making my request happen. Still, when the first few chords played through the sound system, I gladly wove back through the crowd to my companions.

“I will come to you at night time,

I will raise you from your sleep.

I will kiss you in four places, 

As I go running along your street.

I will squeeze the life out of you,

You will make me laugh and make me cry.

We will never forget it

You will make me call your name, and I’ll shout it to the blue summer sky”

Luna and Stallion looked at me blankly.  Mr Giovanni smiled like a cat who had worked out where the mice lived.

“It seems as if our companion has a gift for music,” He almost purred.  I accepted the compliment and led us through a door marked ‘Staff Only’ and up narrow steps.  

“What was that song?” Luna asked as we entered through a second door and into a comfortable office.

“Throw your arm around me?” I was surprised, “It’s a classic.  Whole crowds sing along to that song.”

Below, the band continued to play the song well, but the audience was politely silent.

“Never heard of it, “ Stallion said, “But I don’t know anything about music.”

“How old are you?” Luna now prompted, and I was suddenly made aware of the disparagement of our ages.  I knew I looked younger than my years, but I couldn’t hide I was now in my thirties, and they were in their early twenties, at best. 

“Well, technically, I’m the same age as you.  We were reborn on the same night.”

“Yeah, but how old were you before?” This was Stallion.  There was no point in tripping around the facts now.  Neither of them would give up until they knew the truth.

“Thirty-two,” I tried to sound nonchalant.

They laughed. 

“I think you will find that Rain here has lived a life before being embraced,” Mr Giovanni came to my rescue and ushered us all into seats around a heavy walnut desk. I took my seat with a sigh of relief.

“I intend to introduce you to Prince Sarrasine in not too many nights, and there are a few things you need to know.  Our Prince runs his domain with a light hand.  As vampire societies go, ours is very liberal…free, but our Prince does expect a neonate to be presented and recite our traditions handed down from Caine himself.”

I sat up. Though he had said many things tonight, for me, he’d finally got to the meat of our lessons. The traditions and laws of a society say something to what people believe is important. Often culture is expressed in it traditions and laws.

“Caine made the traditions himself?” I asked.  It comforting that something from the founder of our race still existed.

“They were his first edict to his childe.” Mr Giovanni answered and started quoting the first tradition, “Thou shall not reveal thy true nature to those not of the Blood. Doing such shall renounce thy claims of Blood.“

Simple enough.  It didn’t take a scholar to work out what ‘… renounce thy claims of Blood…” meant.  Mr Giovanni had been evident that the life given would be quickly taken away. He did, however, go on to explain.

“This is what we call the Masquerade, and it is our highest tradition.  The Prince will call a bloodhunt on anyone who threatens our way of life by breaking the Masquerade.”  

The second was equally simple: “Thy domain is thine own concern. All others owe thee respect while in it. None may challenge thy word while in thy domain.  In other words, be polite.” Mr Giovanni said, direct the comment at Stallion.

“I’m always polite.”

“This is my domain, and what I say goes.”
“Except if the Prince says otherwise,” I said, goading the old man just a little.

“The Prince and I…have an arrangement,” He qualified.

Yeah, the Prince says, “Take on the burden of teaching new vampires, “ and Mr Giovanni asks, “How many would you like to take on?”  Note,  I didn’t say that.

It was the third tradition that made me think.

“Thou shall only Sire another with the permission of thine Elder. If thou createst another without thine Elder’s leave, both thou and thy Progeny shall be slain.”

“So, if we’re here, then our sires, wherever they are, had permission to make us,” I sat back in my chair, “The Prince knows our sires and, for reasons of his own, has offered Mr Giovanni a favour to take on their role.” 

“Yes, my little Toreador, you show your true colours tonight, “ Mr Giovanni gave that cat-like grin.  I felt uncomfortably exposed. At the same time, the name of my bloodline made me feel like I belonged. 

“Toreador?  Is that what I am?”

“I believe so.”

Wasn’t the Prince meant to be a Toreador?  I kept that thought to myself.

The fourth tradition was something Night Rider had mentioned to Mr Giovanni on the beach. 

“Those thou create are thine own children. Until thy Progeny shall be Released, thou shall command them in all things. Their sins are thine to endure.”  We were his problem, and anything we did reflected directly on him until we were considered adults.  Great.

The fifth tradition was more of the polite type.

“When thou comest to a foreign city, thou shall present thyself to the one who ruleth there. Without the word of acceptance, thou art nothing.” 

I wondered why there was such an emphasis on politeness.  Was it the predatory nature of the vampire that meant they needed reminding?

The sixth, on the surface, seemed a given.

“Thou art forbidden to destroy another of thy kind. The right of destruction belongeth only to thine Elder. Only the Eldest among thee shall call the Blood Hunt.”

“There’s been a lot of talk of elders.  Are they the eldest or just the most powerful?” I asked, not sure if it was a title or a description.

“Yes, “ Mr Giovanni replied, that spark of life again in his usually dead brown eyes.  At least I was amusing him.

“What, like aboriginal elders?” Stallion asked, “Like the Aunties and Uncles?”

“What? No!” Mr Giovanni seemed shocked. It’s nice to see something could besides eating a steak.

‘Our Prince, in his wisdom, is lax on the traditions except for the first.  On the third and sixth, he is very lax.”

The third was the making of new vampires, which meant us.  The sixth…

“So he’s okay with the murder of a fellow vampire?”

“Amongst us, it is called diablerie.  Don’t get caught in the act, and you’ll be fine.”

“So a particularly clever and vicious vampire can move their way through the ranks.”

“Yes, but very few feel the need, and the Prince is still in power.”

It worked for them. Undoubtedly, the best thing for me to do once out of my probation under Mr Giovanni would be to find a group I could trust amongst the Toreadors and quietly live my life.  I was starting to believe if I got on the wrong side of either of my companions, they would have no qualms about diablerising me.

“Next, I need to introduce you to my ghouls.  We need to go through your past lives with a fine-toothed comb and see if there is anything or anyone that could be used to hurt you.”

“Vampire, werewolves, ghouls and ghosties,” Stallion joked.  I was in no mood for joking.  I’d spent a life covering my tracks to protect those I left behind.  Without knowing it, my puzzle box once more found my hand.

 Mr Giovanni stood, and we moved to a second room where two men worked.  Bruce, who seemed an ordinary adult Australian male and Giuseppe.  Introduced as a relative from the old country, Giuseppi looked like he belonged amongst the royal families of Europe.  The Bourbons sprung to mind.  There seemed to be little resemblance between the neat and presentable Mr Giovanni and the unfortunate Giuseppi. It made me wonder how old Mr Giovanni was if this was the fruit of the current family tree.  Luna was thinking the same as me as she mouthed the phrase, Generational inbreeding.

“Good evening, Uncle,” Giuseppe slurred through oversized lips.

“Mr Giovanni,” Bruce stood, nodding politely to us and his employer.

“Everyone, these are my boys.   Bruce here is a real treasure, a great and creative thinker. They’re going to disentangle you from your old lives.”

Mr Giovanni’s gaze fell on me, particularly my hand, where the puzzle box flipped open and closed. I made it disappear, leaned against the wall and looked back innocently. He continued to stare as if assessing something. Eventually, he turned away as Luna stepped up to be first.

“Luna, tell us about your life.  Your family and friends?” Mr Giovanni said, sitting down as Bruce and Giovanni took notes. 

“What, eighteen years of hell?”  She replied with absolute contempt.  I knew Luna and Stalion’s stories were not rosy and bright, but the anger surprised me.

“Start with friends?  Roommates?”

“Alicia Stevenson?” She shrugged.

“Are you fond of her?”
“Does she really care for me? A note would do, saying I’ve gone to another uni.”

“And family?” 

“Good luck finding them.  Mum’s dead. Dad I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

“Have any men…disappointed you in the past?”  

“Disappointed.  The whole human race seems pretty disappointing.”  She hadn’t understood his meaning.  Stallion and I looked at each other and blurted out simultaneously. 

“Sometimes I want to…” Stallion said.

“Just the once, and I was drunk.  I apologised, and she said she was fine with it…”

Luna laughed.

“Oh, Brad Petersen, and he started crying.”

Guiseppe wrote down both names with some relish.  I’m sure I saw saliva drip from his oversized lip. His eyes had a creepy glint, like a child at the thought of torturing a small pet.

“Eat in or take away?” Bruce asked quietly to Mr Giovanni.  

“There doesn’t seem to be anything remarkable there.  Keep a note on them if you don’t mind.”  

Bruce made his own notes quietly and efficiently.  

I held back, still working on my story, when Stallion stepped up.

“Friends, yeah, Ray Frought.  A good mate, through thick and thin.” Stallion supplied, and I watched the drool drop onto Guiseppe’s notepad.  I must have made a face as I saw Mr Giovanni look from me to Guiseppe.

“Control yourself, nephew,” He said gently, and the young man wiped his mouth and grinned.

“Sorry, uncle.”

“How about housemates? Family?”

“Augh yeah,   Steve Chue, Peggy Pillok, April O’Joel, Phil Awat-Jert, Aaron Porst, Mike or Mick ‘Cruise’ McGry, Chase Krilla and Boofhead, of course, the best dog in the world.  Yeah, good mates.”

“At your house, do you grow your own?” 

“Oh nah, we’re strictly consumers.”

“Criminal activities?”
“Sure, I’ve been locked up. Theft…Assault…” 

“Sir, do you want a bonfire party for this one?” Bruce asked seriously, but a subtext insinuated a more permanent fiery solution.  It was clear that Stallion didn’t understand.

“A party?  Augh, yeah!.”

“Definitely eat in, I think, Bruce.” Mr Giovanni said, and Stallion’s friend’s fate were sealed.

I looked at Luna.  She’d understood the subtext of the conversation as well as I had but didn’t seem concerned about a soon-to-be housefire somewhere in Sydney’s outer southwest, all inhabitants found dead at the scene.  

“Er, Stallion, “ I interrupted, “These mates of yours.  You’ve been through a lot with them?”

“Yeah, well, we’re family, right.  My real family…they burnt their bridges with me long ago.  But those guys. We keep the postcode safe, know what I mean?”

I didn’t.  I looked it up on my phone later. Stallion was a member of a gang that held territory.  People had been injured and died over what became known as the Postcode wars.  In some ways, life for Stallion hadn’t changed.

“And they care about you, don’t they?”
“Well, they take care of the dog for a mate.”  Come on, Stallion, work with me.

“But they keep you sane, right?”

“What?  Like my mental wellbeing?” Eureka! “Yeah, they are that.”

I looked at Mr Giovanni, who looked to Bruce. 

“Acquire, Bruce.”

“Take away it is, Mr Giovanni.”

Now, it was my turn.  I’d thought and devised a slapdashed tale that, even if they didn’t buy it all, would make it hard to follow.

“Nothing really to say, gentlemen. I’m an orphan, grew up in the US in group homes.  I picked up my trade at a local magic shop. The owner, Mr Solomon, was the only father I knew.  He’d be long dead now.  I did a bit of nightclub work for the mafia kingpin called Louis Astra at the Last Shot.  When things got too hot, I left, taking my severance pay.  They didn’t like that much, so I left the US and ended up here in Sydney.”

That cold, calculating stare of Mr Giovanni’s.  My heart would have been in my throat if it was still beating.  

“No family.”

“All dead.” That doesn’t get any easier to say.  One of the few truths in the whole sorry tale.

“How about friends here in Sydney.”

“I’ve not been here long.  I have a squat in Surry Hill.  A beautiful old building, great bones.” Also true.  The building, that is, not the being here long.

“A building with bones?” Stallion said, bemused.

“She’s six storeys of open-plan potential.  Do you want the address, Mr Giovanni?”  I hoped the old girl was not destined for a ‘bonfire party’, but better her than…well…

Mr Giovanni nodded.  At least for the time being, I’d gotten away with it. 

“Okay, go tie up those loose ends.”

“It sounds like we’re born for this life,” I said happily, buoyed at the acceptance of my tale.  

Luna scoffed.

“I speak only for myself.”

“It sounds like you’re speaking.” She retorted.  

 Touche.

As the boys left, I was reminded that Mr Giovanni had mentioned they were ghouls but hadn’t explained what that meant.  

“They are mortal.  Human beings that once a month I give a taste of blood. The blood binds them to me, makes them a little stronger, a little better at their job.”

The reference of a bound servant to a vampire jogged something in my memory.

“Renfield,” I said almost to myself, but Mr Giovanni reacted as if he’d been personally insulted.

“Vlad Dracul!  That stronzo zingaro…the biggest walking Masquerade violator.  If it weren’t for him, the human race would never know that vampires existed!

That most humans thought Dracula and vampires were fictional didn’t seem relevant to him. I let the subject drop.

Mr Giovanni now stood and unbuttoned his tailored suit jacket.

“Now, I think getting a second opinion on you three would be worthwhile.  Malkavians can be…nutty, but as fortune tellers, they are unsurpassed.”

The puzzlebox reappeared.  In a world where vampires are real, what would a fortune teller dredge up to tell everyone?

“I’m going to take you to see an acquaintance, Bobby Lisner.  He lives in an old sewer under The Rocks.  He says it’s better for his webs, whatever that means. I’ll be just a moment.”

Mr Giovanni left us neonates alone to chat for a moment before returning in less respectable attire. A polo shirt with signs of stains (guess and you’d be correct what sort), generic trousers, and the most striking of all, wellingtons. 

I sighed.  These were my one good set of dress shoes. If I knew I was going to be made a vampire, I would not have worn my good working clothes.

We all followed Mr Giovanni to the car and back into the City under the shadow of the harbour bridge.  Though gentrified in recent years, there are still pockets of ancient decrepitude around the oldest part of Sydney. Mr Giovanni parked outside a large open sewer pipe, the sort that travel kilometres throughout the suburbs.  Though no longer used for sewage, the pipe trickled with the sound of run-off from the previous night’s downpour.

“Consider this your lucky night, “ Mr Giovanni said rapping politely on the wrought iron grill gate over the pipe, “Its not every day you’ll get to meet a true Dianician Hamlet.”  He waited a moment giving me time to roll up my pant legs. My concern about meeting the seer grew. A person who knew so much about the future, they knew that whatever they did to change it was futile? 

Eventually, when nothing came from his polite knock, Mr Giovanni swung open the iron grill.

“Oi!” He shouted and disappeared into the blackness.  Stallion’s eyes flashed red, and he followed Mr Giovanni into the tunnel.  I pulled out my phone, turned on the flashlight, and entered the pipe before realising the dark wasn’t as impenetrable as I had thought.  I could see, though faintly, in the total absence of light.  I noted that new little skill alongside seeing auras, saved my phone battery and followed the group.

Out of the gloom, a figure approached. Thin-faced with long, straggling blond hair and piercing green eyes, the figure and its clothing showed signs of blood stains or something worse. The eyes swept over the group from under heavily furrowed brows.

“Yeah?” It said, its eyes drifting on and off Mr Giovanni if unsure it should hold his gaze.

“Bobby, I have some new fledglings for you to look at,” Mr Giovanni was all grace and smiles for the figure.  Here was someone it was worthwhile doing favours for.  I kept that in mind.

“For the usual fee?” Bobby replied, turning around and walking further down the pipe.

“What this time, Bobby?”
“Flies. Flies for my web, of course.”

Bobby stopped and turned to the group in a part of the pipe that looked like any other.

“Who first?  Whose hand do I lick and gain the sight?”

Stallion shrugged, and I gestured for Luna to go first.

“Oh, fine if I have to,” She said, her palm glowing in the darkness.  Gingerly, like it was precious, Bobby took her palm in his right hand.  With his left, he cut a line down its length with a sharpened nail, and he lapped up the blood.  As his eyes rolled back, he gave his pronouncement.

Child of fire.

Half known but not seen.

The age may no longer be dark, but you’ve not darkened yet.

Scholarly.

Brujah of modern, but not of old.

Interesting. It did seem to speak of Luna’s anger and her silence.  I took heart from the point about her having “…not darkened yet…”  and wondered what difference between Brujah of the past and the modern sort.   

Seeing how it went, Stallion quickly stepped up to have his turn.  Bobby did the same, cutting Stallion’s palm before licking the welled blood in the folds.  This time, he dropped the hand as his eyes rolled up and gave Stallion his fortune.

You are what you eat.

The steak is still in your stomach.

Wolves are often pack animals

But you’ve been left in the winter.

You may think your eyes glow red,

But none have yet to see it.

A gangrel you neither city or country.

A lonely lot you are.

“A terrible addiction, I can taste it in your palm,” He added, his voice slipping to a less portentous rhythm.  I don’t know what Stallion thought of his fortune, but it gave me no comfort.  I’d already started to believe myself linked to these people.  If Stallion was left out in the cold, what did that mean for the rest of us?

I felt the crystal edges of those eyes on me. I stepped up, offering my hand.  

“Ah, two for one.  Two of a kind,” Bobby said as he slit open my hand and licked off the blood.  This time Bobby’s vision lifted my hand as he let it go.

Such a pretty thing a rose by itself.

A rose that smells pretty though its plumage is dulled.

A rare thing is a rose that heals instead of piercing.

A rose that wants a garden is common,

Flowers are best alone.

The alone motif again, but this time, instead of the negative connotation of Stallion’s fortune, it described a single flower standing alone as a feature.  Maybe I needed to rethink my future role in the community.  Not a weed hiding in the garden, but a flower standing alone?  I clutched the pendant around my neck, hidden under my shirt. Maybe it was time it was seen. 

“Thank you, Bobby,” I said genuinely, taking back my hand, “Words of wisdom.”

Bobby smiles for the first time during the whole transaction.  A watery, weak thing that disappears quickly, but a smile nonetheless.

“The gift of the flower,” He looks back at Luna, who was wrapping up her wounded hand.

“The Brujah will do wonderful things.” He gestured to Stallion.

“Keep your hoof hidden.  It’s not good on the eyes.  There’s a path for you, but it’s yours to take.  And change your hat, it’s not going to be in style for long.”  He finally turned back to Mr Giovanni.

“There’s a party happening now, or soon…it’s hard to tell. Devils are going to come dancing.”

Mr Giovanni’s stoney face closed down on whatever that meant. 

“Now go. My web needs a rest.  Flies, don’t forget the flies.”

The group started moving off.  I licked my hand and marvelled as the cut healed over.

“Bobby?” I asked, “Can I come back and see you again?”

That watery smile hidden behind the stringy blonde hair.

“You and your three tongues are always welcome.”

“Hey, can you do that healing thing on me?” Stallion asked as Bobby disappeared into the darkness, “But do you need to lick my hand.”

I smiled at him and spat instead, moving the saliva around with my fingers until this cut disappeared.

“Urgh, thanks, I think.” He wiped his healed hand against his shorts.

Ah, making friends and influencing people, that’s me.

11.50 pm 6 hours until sunrise.

Notable NPCs

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

Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni

Garcia: Sire.  Unknown location.

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

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

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

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.  

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

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.  

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 sculptor 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.

7.00pm  11 hours until sunrise.

The sun had disappeared over the horizon only fifteen minutes before, but Dominic Giovanni was already in his Jeep, smoothly cruising through the eastern suburbs.  Only one person would have Dominic out so early on such a task.  But when the Prince offers you a favour, you do not say no.  At a small harbourside park, Dominic stopped, walking down a set of rustic steps to the tiny beach.  There, a figure he’d rather not have seen, waiting at the high tide line.  At his feet, three shallow graves.

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

I was first aware of the sand trickling down my neck into my shirt, the feeling of grit in my eyes and mouth. For a moment, I lay there and tried to remember.  Garcia, his offer…the beach and shovel. Right. It wasn’t what I had expected, but I was sure the sand saved my life.  I listened momentarily, hearing the movements of others around me, voices above.  It seemed it was time to move.  Without another thought, I started digging out of the grave I’d dug for myself.

The sounds of movement beside me in the sand became louder. I wasn’t alone in being born this night.  That was something of a comfort. I broke through and was embraced by the night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, and  I breathed in the air. Suddenly, I realised I hadn’t breathed since waking in the sand.  I glanced across the water to the bridge’s familiar arch, even in the night’s darkness. I orientated myself, Eastern suburbs….Rose bay?..No, Vaucluse. 

 I became aware of the two men watching as three of us climbed out of the sand.  The first man’s predatory look reminded me of the gangs that enjoyed hunting the Homeless, and I quickly got to my feet.  No need to make it easy for him.  The other was far more urbane.  He was well dressed, his polished shoes deflecting in the moist rain-soaked grains of sand, and his Mediterranean appearance was similar but not Garcia.  He looked like he’d walked out of Sunday mass for a stroll along this beach.  I was happy to assume he was in charge, but where was Garcia?

“Good evening,” said the well-dressed gentleman, “Welcome to your new life.”

“Good evening, sir,” I said automatically, “My name is T-” No, not that anymore…I need a new name for a new life, “…Rain.”

“Ah, I think that one likes you, Dominic,” Said the roughneck, his orange hair burning the moon above his head.  

He turned his predatory eye onto the group, “This ‘er is Mr Giovanni. The Prince has made a deal with him to be your daddy from now on.  If you want to live past tonight, you must do what he says.”

I didn’t appreciate the threat and was concerned that Garcia was nowhere to be seen.  Prince? Deals?  What had I awoken into?

“Mr Giovanni, Dominic,” I now walked towards the gentleman, unsure of his rank, only knowing he was now more important than me, “which do you prefer?”

“I think Mr Giovanni for now,” He replied cooly.

“I was expecting a gentleman…goes by the name Garcia.  Do you know of him?”

“I’ve known a great many Garcia’s in my time.” He replied finally, turning away as if the conversation was finished.  

“F–kin’ hell, what did I do last night?” Said a voice behind me, and I turned to see a well-built man in his thirties in a branded t-shirt and tattoos.  His fingers, where not inked, were covered in more branded silver and gold jewellery.  Though he initially looked like someone who may have been out for an evening jog, the bling and branding spoke more about someone who had dressed for a drunken night on the town.  

“I was just wondering the same thing,” said a woman’s voice beyond him, “what arsehole did I pick up to end up here?”

I watched as they climbed out of their sandy graves, the man pulling out a prewrapped joint from a bumbag.  

“You are what the Sabbat call Shovelheads.  Childe left to fend for themselves,” Mr Giovanni said with a sour expression, “be thankful the Prince thinks better. “
“‘Er’, you must be thirsty,” The redhead said, pulling from his long coat four bags that contained 500mls of liquid.  Even with my new eyes, the liquid looked black in the darkness.  He tossed three to us ‘shovelheads’ and gave the fourth to Mr Giovanni.  Catching my bag, I was instantly aware it was a blood pouch, directly from a blood bank or hospital. This was definitely not what I was expecting.

“Like this children,” Mr Giovanni said condescendingly as he drew his pinky finger across the plastic of the pouch, breaking the seam. He then withdrew from his coat pocket a shot glass and poured himself a drink. I felt ill-prepared.    Now that it was in front of me, I could feel the thirst burning in the back of my throat. I had no sharp implement to pierce the bag, and no glass in which to decant the fluid.

“Mr Giovanni, could you cut this open for me, this once?” I asked, placing him between me and the redhead.

The red-head laughed harshly, and I knew I’d done something foolish.  Mr Giovanni sighed.

“That one is so cute, Dominic,” The redhead continued to chortle, “look to your own mouth, shovelhead.”

I moved my tongue around my mouth, instantly finding needle-like canines.

“Oh, right,” Feeling an idiot, I removed myself and pierced the bag with my new teeth. For the first time, expectations were exceeded by the reality of my situation.  I drained the bag before my thirst was sated, and I looked greedily at the other two, who looked at their bags as if unsure what to do with them.  

The young woman glanced at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“What sort of cult have I stumbled into here?” She asked, looking around at all of us.

“Yeah, what the f–k do you want me to do with this f–kin’ thing?” The westie, by his experienced use of the universal descriptive, looked from his joint to the bag.

“You’re one of them,” The redhead said to the man, stalking across the sand, taking the blood bag. “You can’t feed like the rest of us.  What was ya usual drug of choice?”

Talking about his drug habit so openly, the man seemed to get a little offended, “only  a little pot, I swear.” 

“Hmmm, mm, “ the redhead replied and replaced it with an energy-drink-sized vial of a similar liquid. “Get that in ya.”

Seeing us both drink, the woman squeezed the bag and bit into the plastic.  Like the two of us, once she started, she drained the bag dry.

“Hi, I’m Rain,” I offered her my hand, and she eventually took it.

“Luna.  I’m Luna.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Luna,” I looked to the man who was now swaying on the spot, “how about you?”

“Me? I’m Stallion,” The man replied, licking his lips. He was stoned in a way his joint had failed to do, ”on account of me doing so well with the fillies.”

“Right, Stallion.” I rolled my eyes.  Like every drunk bachelor’s group I’d ever performed for.

“You also get the Kevin Rudd package.” He said and handed each of us a wad of notes and a credit card.  Even with a quick flick, I knew it was more money than I’d had in my possession in a long time.

“Yeah, well, by the fourth tradition, they’re now yours,” The redhead said with a wave as he walked towards the stairs off the beach.

“Yes, thank you, Night Rider, for your service,” Mr Giovanni replied without looking away from Luna.  

“Hey, Night Rider, could I have your number?  Maybe you can hit up a guy sometime?”

The redhead turned and momentarily contemplated Stallion, ”Sure, 0466 518 2987.”

Eleven numbers.  I noted it anyway.  Stallion rummaged in a bumbag and found a phone.  Blerily, he entered the number.  

“Yeah, thanks, mate.”

“And now it is time for us to leave,” Mr Giovanni said, following Night Rider up the stairs.

“Mr Giovanni, “ I called back to our new mentor…master? “Please, I’d like a few answers.  Where is Garcia?   Why don’t these two know what they are?”

“There is much to learn and very little night in which to learn it all, “Mr Giovanni didn’t even glance back, “come on Childe.”

We climbed the stairs to street level as a group, where a black Jeep was waiting.  Stallion whistled as he walked around the car, admiring it from all angles.  I went to the passenger door until I saw Luna had the same idea.  I opened the door for her.

“Thank you, “  she said, looking at me first the first time.  She was petite, shorter than even me, but behind her eyes, there was a strength of will as hard and cold as stone. 

 “We have to look out for each other, we’re kin now.”  I said as Mr Giovanni glanced across the car as he fastened his seatbelt.  There was something, but he let it slide and settled himself behind the wheel.

“Nice ride, Mr G,” Stallion jumped into the back, stretching out his lanky body until he took up the whole seat.  I clambered through to the rear, sitting at the opposite window to Stallion, keeping everyone in sight. Now that we were all in one place, I could see the faintly-coloured auras that each emitted.  Luna and Mr Giovanni’s seemed similar, maybe hers was a little darker close to her body.  Stallion’s aura glowed faintly but seemed larger and take up more space in the car.  Much like Stallion himself.  He went to pull another joint from his bumbag.

“Mr G, do you mind if I light up?”

“If you value your unlife, you will not.”

“Righto.”  Stallion put it away with a sigh.

I noted Luna watching me.  In my left hand, my puzzlebox flipped open and closed.  I didn’t remember taking it out.  I flipped it once, locking the mechanism, putting it away, and pulling out a set of cards.

“Stallion, I wonder if you’d indulge me by picking a card.”

7.45 pm 11 hours until sunrise.

The trip across town was short for that time of night.  As the city lights flew by outside the Jeep, I amused my new associates with card tricks.  When the Jeep pulled up, it was 7.45 pm and we were in the Inner Western suburbs, Marion Street Leichhardt.  

Without a word, Mr Giovanni led us through an open Italian-inspired esplanade.  The golden light from the alfresco dining lit the buildings above in a warm glow.  I’d busked here once, but tourists are more generous than locals, and I returned to the harbour and the tourist traps before long.  Mr Giovanni marched towards a restaurant, straight in the doors and gestured for us to continue through to a private room at the back. 

“I do not wish to be disturbed.  Is that understood?” I heard him say to the maitre d’ as another wad of notes was handed over.

“We understand, Mr Giovanni.”

The private room was elegantly lit with a solid wood table set for twelve.  A server stood in one corner, silent and ready to offer assistance.  Stallion sat heavily, throwing his expensive branded runners onto the white tablecloth.  Luna took a seat opposite, and I took the one beside her.  Where Stallion had been loud, Luna had kept to herself and had shared little more than her name. I was about to start unravelling the Luna knot when Mr Giovanni addressed the group.

“Your old lives as you knew it are over.  You are now part of the realm of the supernatural. A realm of ghosts, werewolves and vampires. You are very fortunate to find yourself the latter.”

“There are few rules, and then only when people are watching.  Respect your elders, don’t cause trouble, or at least don’t get caught.  Respect another kin in their domain. Here, in Leichhardt is mine.  If you enter a new city, always introduce yourself to the Prince, it’s only polite.  Most importantly, do not reveal your nature to anyone.  We call this keeping up the Masquerade.”

“Right now, you are childe, newly created vampires, and I have been made responsible for you. When you have learned all I have to teach, you will become neonates and take your place in vampire society.  Right now, you are part of my coterie, my immediate family.”  

“You have much to learn, but first,” Mr Giovanni gestured to the wait staff in the corner, “are you able to serve us tonight?”

“Yes sir, any meal preferences?  Dietary requirements?”

“Oh yes,” Mr Giovanni turned to Stallion, “your meal can be…seasoned with your particular herb if you prefer.”
“Augh, yeah, like hash cookies but rich?” Stallion was already pulling two joints from his bum bag.

The wait staff took the joints and disappeared through the door. Not long later, a line of four individuals were brought in.  Expecting to be alone, I stood ready for action.  The line circled the room, one for each of us, Stallion, Mr Giovanni, Luna and myself.  Each was stood beside us as in the case of Mr Giovanni and myself or in the laps of Stallion and Luna.  Each looked …not asleep like they were hypnotised.

“Whadawa want with him then?” Protested Stallion at the young, handsome man swayed in his lap, “Whadaya think I am? A poofta?”

“I expect you to feed,” Mr Giovanni said, pulling out a bracelet that he placed carefully over his person’s wrist.  Into a hole on the bracelet went a straw that Mr Giovanni then sucked.  

“Why can’t I have a pretty girl like he’s got?” Stallion pointed at the young woman beside me, and I instantly became defensive.

Mr Giovanni stopped feeding himself and turned his full attention on Stallion. 

“Feed,” He said in a voice that broached no arguments.  There was more to the command, though. As soon as the syllable left his lips, Stallion forgot all his arguments and bit into the man’s neck. 

I looked at my…meal?  No, my donor.  I was thirsty.  I needed what they had.  I took her hand and guided her into my seat to see her better.  She were lovely.  Young, beautiful with a sad far away look.

“Hi, um…I want to give you a little kiss.  Would that be okay?” I asked gently, cupping her jaw.  I could actually feel the blood rushing through her veins.  

Their sad expression disappeared and a small smile, just as far away, appeared.

“Oh yes, I like kisses.” Consent of sorts.  It had to be good enough for now.  I lowered my head to kiss her throat.

Something inside knew instinctively what to do.  Suddenly I was aware of a rush of life, the beat of their heart in my mouth, their essence flowing into me.  

Feed, yes. Your need is greater than theirs.  You are rare and need sustaining, take it all.  What does it matter, their life for yours.   A voice, not my own, spoke clearly in my mind.  Surprised,  I quickly broke free.

“What the hell was that?” I exclaimed and looked across the woman back at Mr Giovanni.

“The voice?  Yes, it’s to be expected. Now, do this,” Mr Giovanni took the limp wrist of his person and licked the wound his feeding had made. It didn’t seem to do anything. 

I looked down at the young girl next to see a seeping wound surrounded by bruised tissue.  Guilty for hurting her and confused by Mr Giovanni’s directions, I did as I was told and was surprised when the blood ceased flowing and the wound healed, disappearing into smooth flesh once more.  I looked up in awe at Mr Giovanni and, for the first time, saw the spark of life in his dark eyes. 

Luna now drank.  She drank deeply, growing in strength, standing to overpower her person as if to drain them of every last mouthful. 

“Luna?  Luna!” I tried pulling her away, but she was too strong. It soon didn’t matter as the body of the now lifeless person slumped onto the table in front of us. 

“We call it the Beast, it is your predatory nature and will keep you alive.  But I must warn you, the Beast can not be allowed to rule you.  You can frenzy, and if the Beast takes you over, you will be put down,” He said, mumbling a final phrase into his hand, “…if you are, then you’ll turn into something worse.”

“Ah, Mr Giovanni…” I left my young woman swooning in my chair as I came around the table.

“This poofta stuff is all well and good, but when are we gonna have some real food.” Stallion bellowed the young man he’d just feasted on gently led away by wait staff.

Now I was sure I saw a smirk of some sort of mischief in Mr Giovanni’s eyes.

“What would you like, Stallion? A steak?”

“Yeah, the local pub does a ripper on a Tuesday night,”

“Bistecca mediamente cotta, per favore. Oh, E un secchio.”

Mr Giovanni ordered, and a full plate of grilled steak and vegetables was laid before Stallion.  Beside him was placed a bucket.

“Buon appetito.”

Stallion dug into the steak as if he hadn’t already drunk half a person.  He relished the juices running from the meat and devoured even the vegetables.  Mr Giovanni stood and stared, his mouth hanging open in utter surprise.

“Wot?” Stallion asked through a mouthful of food, his eyes flashing red like a creature in headlights, “Haven’t you seen a man eat before?”

“No, not for a very long time,” Mr Giovanni admitted, “as a general rule, we can not eat food in the normal sense.”

The meat smelt good, and I could see it had been cooked to perfection.  It had been years since I’d had a steak, surely a mouthful…

“Stallion, would you mind if I had a try?”

“Sure, free steak for all!” He cut off a piece

“I wouldn’t advise it.” Was all Mr Giovanni said, and I plucked the juicy piece of meat off Stallion’s fork and put it in my mouth.

The result was violent and instant.  Like taking poison, the body reacted in the only way it knew how to and brought everything up.  I made it to the bucket in time as the blood I had drunk from the young woman and the blood bag came back up.  I was left drained and sickly, wiping my bloodied mouth with the pristine white napkin.

“The Beast is also the source of all our powers.  Curiously, we’ve seen Stallion has the power to eat and Rain here has the ability to heal wounds.  I suspect the lovely Luna, “ she made a face, “…is like me, gaining potency, enormous physical strength.”

“Your clan or bloodline determines what powers you are likely to manifest.  For example, I believe Stallion is Gangrel, and Luna is Brujah.  I’m afraid I’ve yet to determine what clan Rain springs from, but I’m sure time will tell.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that pronouncement.  Even I could see the powers manifesting in the others.  What bloodline had Garcia given me that it could not be discerned?

Mr Giovanni spoke about the Antediluvians, those of the 3rd generation from whom all the bloodlines sprung. Luna showed she had an education when she translated the word ‘antedeluvian’ to the ones before the flood.  

“Yes.  Another name for us is the Cannanites, the children of Cain.”
“As in the bible.  Cain and Able and the flood?” I blurted out.  I never realised that all those years of Sundays sitting through Catholic mass would be useful. 

He said we were of the 13th generation and those whom some prophesy labelled as The Last.  That I didn’t like.  What was the point of living forever if you were the very last of your species?

“It’s an old myth, nothing to worry about,” Mr Giovanni assured me.

“So you don’t believe this prophecy?” I asked, almost convinced.

“You wanna meet some Myans,” Stallion raised his head out of his drugged stupor, “they were all about the end of days and that.”

 He told us about having a safe refuge as in torpor, we were helpless.  He told us not to venture west of the Blue Mountains as survival for our kind was harsh.  He told us to steer clear of bikie gangs as often they are infiltrated by werewolves. He told us that Sydney was a free state, not under the same faction pressures as other places. 

“There are three major factions, the Sabbat, I mentioned them on the beach. The Camarilla, who believe in the Prince and the Masquerade in that order.  And then there are a newer faction, the Anarchists.  In Los Angeles, they killed their Prince. Though the human world thinks Los Angeles is fine, the fact is Los Angeles is in chaos and ruin.”

He told us we would be presented to the Prince himself, and my head spun.

“The Prince, oh Mr Giovanni I can’t….I don’t have another suit and this…” I looked at my Salvation Army store bargain.  After a few months of almost constant wear and twenty-four hours in the sand, it was hardly fit for the public and certainly not acceptable for an appearance at court.

“I will see that you are appropriately attired for the event, I assure you.”  He glanced at Stallion in his shorts and t-shirt.

“Wot?  Again!”

9.45pm  Eight hours until sunrise.

Notable NPCs

Garcia: Sire.  Unknown location.

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

Prince Sarassen: Prince of Sydney and our patron (owe Mr Giovanni a favour to look after us).

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.

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.  

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

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.