"Just shut up, OK?"

Not the first time I’ve been spoken to like that. But it was the first time recently. I glared back at Steve, not deigning to answer. That, and the fact that I couldn’t think up a good retort, kept my mouth shut.

Edging forward, I looked around again. The sewer was as oppressive as before, and the stench of rotting garbage hadn’t died down. Since the Heightening of my sense (which I still hadn’t figured out how to control) I’d been impressed with the ease with which I could see in the darkness. It was little use in the darkness we inhabited then, though. The dripping, constant and unyielding, was getting on my nerves as well.

So, when I tripped over something, landed head first in the ‘water’ and got a mouthful of that muck, I wasn’t pleased.

"Svan? You OK?"

"Fine," I replied, spitting out the liquid "And I think I’ve found it."

Between us, we managed to hoist the large, plastic wrapped package to the side of the sewer, up the stairs and onto the street. Even though I didn’t have to breathe any more, I took in deep gulps of the air to cleanse the stench from my lungs. I’d have to get a shower when I got back in.

"Now what?," I said, glancing at Steve. He looked even worse than I felt; he was still breathing heavily. One of our few advantages over the ghouls, I’m afraid.

He coughed a few times. It didn’t sound altogether healthy, but he pulled himself together and straightened up."We get it back, what do you think?" He looked around nervously. "Lets go before we get seen."

Driving back to Shadows, we were both trying to ignore the spreading stench from the rear of the car. After five minutes, we couldn’t stand suffering in silence, and tried to make it easier.

"What the hell is it?"

I glanced at Steve, smiling slightly. My patience had lasted only seconds longer than his, but any victory with this hundred year old upstart was fun. Add to that a sneaking dislike of his daylight activities, and you have a friendly rivalry between to two of us.

"I don’t know. I mean, it could be anything, but even the Nosferatou don’t smell this bad."

"Hope he didn’t hear you."

I smiled, expecting to see Steve smirking, but for the first time since I had met him, his face was deadly serious.

"Serious?"

"Of course. We’ve been expecting him."

"You knew what it - he - was?"

"Of course."

"Then why ask, " and I began to mimic that slight drawl of his I found so annoying ‘ "What the hell is it?’ "

"Svan, look at your wrist."

I did so. The underside was chewed, and the blood was beginning to seep through the pale skin. I thought I’d given that habit up.

"Svan, you only do that when you’re nervous. What’s wrong?" As ever, kind and paternal. Considering his age, grande-paternal

"Please. Who is it?"

"The Nosferatou Justicar. He’s here at the request of Morrigan."

Great. A Justicar. That means trouble.

To those neonates out there who haven’t heard of the Justicars, I’ll explain. To the Kindred, they’re a type of police. They operate outside the law, and above it. When a Justicar comes to town, all the Kindred in the area are under suspicion. To make it worse, I do have something to hide. If you haven’t read the first story lets just say that I aren’t strictly within the law most - scratch that - any of the time.

Ahem.

"A Justicar?"

"Yeah." He was smiling. Did he know? "Morrigan is getting more and more worried about the Sabbat. He thinks they’re going to try something soon. So our ranks are being inspected."

"What’s going to happen, then?"

Steve held a finger to his lips, and motioned to the rear of the car. It seemed our distinguished visitor was awakening, and would soon be after an early evening drink.

Not coffee.

I stepped back into the familiar world. On the outside it may look like just a bar, but the outside is all you see until you get inside, if you see what I mean. Although technically I still worked there, my ‘assistance’ had been requested by Morrigan after the murder of the head of the Arcanum, in the heart of their Chapter House.

I had killed her. In doing so, I’d killed more than a Hunter. I’d killed a friend, and they are, sad to say, much rarer. I still didn’t know why I had killed her. Those people I’d talked to about it seemed impressed, thinking it had been a scheme of mine to increase my standing in the area. That thinking just made me stay quiet about it. I didn’t want applause. I wanted Alex back.

I didn’t bother to stop at the bar, instead I went straight upstairs. Once in my room, I removed my old clothes, jeans, denim jacket, and threw them to one side. Then I had that shower.

Although you wouldn’t guess it, we do love heat. Since we spend most of our time with none of our own, whenever we can, we like to feel warm. Winter was hardly gone, and Necropolis was still cold. Not freezing, just ... cold. It was as much a winter of the soul as of the body.

Great. I’m gonna be quoting Shakespeare next.

A shower is, to me, a luxury. Up until a month or two ago, I lived on the streets. I did have a job of sorts, but I gave it up.

I came out of the bathroom, drying my hair. It was as long and as unkept as it was when I died, and though my friends had offered to help. I always declined. After all, when you start to move away from what you were in life, what can death possibly have to offer but that which is not found in life? I hadn’t lived much, and so I do in death. A philosophy I’ll leave others to figure out.

A letter was lying on the bed. I looked around, but the door was still bolted and there was no window. I couldn’t hear anyone, so it had to have been Chalandraia.

Chalandraia’s my sire. The one who turned me into a vampire, although she refuses to admit she killed me. She’s also a member of the Sabbat, and they’re defiantly outside the law. Maybe she wants to ask about the Justicar.

I slit open the envelope with one of my knives. I held it between my hands for a second, just for safety. The envelope was both cold and flat. Good. I pulled out the paper inside, and sat down to read Chalandraia’s italic writing.

‘ "Dear Svanuri,

I shook my head. Chalandraia had been trying to ‘fix me up’, as she put it, for a while. I really didn’t understand it. I had everything I needed, and I really don’t understand women. Can’t say I like that many of them either.

Smiling, I replaced the letter in the envelope, then went to my briefcase. It hadn’t moved out of the room since I bought it, and looked new.

Concentrating, I laid my fingers on the lock, and smiled as I felt the tumblers slide under my fingers. About half an inch below my fingers. Silently thanking Neverre once again, I opened the case.

Ignoring the necklace and the ring laid above the pile of paper, I slotted the envelope to the bottom of the pile. My fingers brushed the book laid there, thinking of it’s contents. Smiling, but feeling sad as well, I shut the case, checked the lock, then climbed into bed.

I tried not to let the others hear my screams as I woke up. It wouldn’t be good for them to know about that. I couldn’t stop the tears, though. They ran down my face as the sweat ran from my body.

Soon, the bed sheets and pillow were stained red.

By the time the sun had set, I’d been awake for two hours, listening to music. Something Chalandraia gave me. I’d showered, and that had helped me calm down. I’d stripped the bed, dumping the sheets out of the room. Then I’d ... sat.

I hadn’t seen that scene again for weeks. Not since DarQness. Chal had woken some of my memories. Ones I’d tried to get rid of. I didn’t want them. They hurt.

I was in my suit. Black, with a dark red shirt. Some didn’t approve of that, but so what. I’m not theirs. I’m mine. A tasteful watch. A present from Morrigan, after I killed Alex. Morrigan knew I’d not wanted to, and had tried to help me. The watch was silver. Its tick, the heartbeat it symbolised, didn’t bother me anymore. Dark glasses. Important, as our eyes tend to disturb the Kine. Oh, yeah, mortals.

I didn’t bother with the main entrance. I was busy, and didn’t have time to chat. I slipped through the kitchens, nodding at the staff, and grinning at Eric Draver. He’s OK, even if he is mad as hell and likes to stuff his face even now he’s died.

It was cold outside, but I’d brought a jacket. Nothing fancy, just a thick denim shirt. It looked out of place with the suit, but was as warm as anything else.

I keep it on the radiator for when I go out. I didn’t bother with a phone call. I went straight to DarQness.

The bouncers moved aside as I walked straight past them. On average, they’re a foot taller than me. I’m only 5’2". But they get out of my way, have done since I smashed one of their heads against a wall for telling me I needed to wear a tie. I swear, they get given rectal implants and ram-rod spines at the same time.

The noise caught me off balance. It was always loud in there, but with the Heightening of my senses it was worse than normal.

The only way my face, pale through death and fear, could have been seen would have been for one of the circling spots to center on me, so I avoided their paths and instead went to the back of the club. Here, occupying a darkened corner, the Tremere antitribu sat, as manipulatry as their Camarilla kin.

As I expected, she was there. Facing away from me, laughing at some private joke, I could see her hair, pulled back tightly. I could see her neck. I couldn’t see the veins move.

She turned, slowly, as though having heard me speak, but I knew I hadn’t. Her face, dark for a second, smiled as she saw me. That perfect hand raised itself up, and beckoned me towards her in a style so reminiscent of the Tremere.

I bowed, slightly, nodding my head, then stepped forwards. The shadowy figures, hidden in the smoke and the gloom, shifted slightly, as though unnerved by this obvious show of Tremere knowledge from one so apparently young.

I raised my hand, letting it drift though the air, the smoke trailing behind it, before whipping it forward to try to grab that perfect neck. With the speed of a viper it was caught, and I was pulled forwards into a wide, laughing, embrace with my sire.

"Svan! I’ll kill you, you sneak. What the hell did you think you were doing?" She had my arms pinned to my sides, and had clasped my chin, making sure I was looking at her. Grinning, I twisted my neck, squirming away and on to the seat next to her.

"Oh, you know. This and that. All the usual." One fault of my sire is that she hates vague answers. I love giving them. A match made in Heaven, wouldn’t you say? "Chal, I’m here to warn you about something."

"Chalandraia, please. Let’s have some respect, shall we, Svan? Get my message?"

I shook my head. "You know I got it. You sneaked in there while I was in the shower. Didn’t even come to see me."

She smiled. "OK, Svan. Sparring over. What have you got to tell me?"

"There’s a Justicar in town."

"Say what?" That pause had lasted several seconds. She knew the consequences as well as I did, but neither of us wanted it to be true. Her voice was a whisper as she continued, yet still audible above the sound of the club. "Which one? The Clan?"

"Nosferatou."

She leaned back, fear on her face. "Svan, listen to me. You have to get out of here. That, or go to Justice. He’d take care of you ... you know he would!"

She was being insane! Those two things were the worst possible things I could do. Running would just tell them I had something to hide, and as for Justice, well ....

Putting yourself in the power of a man who’s already buried you alive once isn’t a good idea, agree?

I looked at her, smiling, and I could see she knew. Her face had lost what little color it contained, and was bloodless - truly rare amongst out kind. She was also shaking. I stood, not wanting to be around for this.

"Chalandraia, I’m going to risk it. As long as I’m not stupid, and don’t contact you for a bit, I’ll be OK. I’ve got a clean record, and that counts for a lot" I leant down to kiss her forehead. "Anything else I should know?"

"Yes. His Archons .... are they coming?"

"I would think so."

"Luke, you have to watch out for one of them. Vanyel, his name is. He’s a Tremere, and zealous as hell. Keep away from him!"

I nodded, knowing how much it meant to her I take her advice. Besides, I had no wish to spend time with any of the Archons, Tremere or not, fanatics or not!

"Bye, Chalandraia."

"Bye, Luke. For God’s sake, be careful!"

With that, I left DarQness.

It was cold outside, but my life on the streets had hardened me to such niceties. Besides, my jacket was stil warm, and I hadn’t hunted for a while anyway.

If you and me are going to get to know one another, lets have a few ground rules, shall we? One, we drink because - and read my lips here - we have to. It’s not becuase we like it - though do you eat meat? Like it? Most people do. And we don’t kill to feed.

See, that’s something that really puzzles me. Because we feed on you, we’re evil. Guess what? The cattle, the pigs, they feel the same. The difference is, though, you’re still alive when we finish our meal.

Most of the time, anyway.

Forget all that Lestat stuff, ignore Interview with a Vampire. I’m giving you the facts. Sure, he didn’t have to kill, but he did. And, in my eyes at least, that puts him way down on my list of people to spend quality time with.

It was gone midnight. The clubs were full, but I looked too young to get in. Besides, the seduction, the act between two people out for a good time, isn’t my style. It is an act of violence, pushing youself into someone, then taking something vital from them.

Besides, I like the taste of fear. And believe me, you can taste it.

Without making a sound, I slipped through the shadows. I was in the slums of Necropolis, and violent crime was always an option to those who lived here. My hearing, prenaturally keen, was alert for any sound that would indicate muggers, thieves or -

Ah! Up ahead, there was a man, hiding in an alley. His breathing, shallow and rasping, was music to me as I scaled the wall, wanting to catch this man by surprise.
Above him now, I looked down. A knife glimmered in his hand, and his stance was of a man prepared to fight. I might have reconsidered, but his eyes scanned around, glinting with a more bloody light than I ever saw in a Kindred’s.

Silently, and oh so slowly, I drew my own knives. One of them I clutched tightly, ready to fight if need be. The other I tossed to the other end of the alley.

An old trick, but his attention faltered for a second, and I dropped onto him. He had thought the wall unscalable, but for now his attention was trying to get his knife free. I held it with difficulty, smiling, showing my true nature - my vampiric nature - to him.

He stared in terror, transfixed. It was enough. My hand slammed the hilt of my knife into his head, knocking him to the ground. Another blow, and he was unconscious.

Quickly, not wanting to be disturbed, I checked the inside of his elbows. There were no needle marks, nothing to indicate infection. I bit gently there, checking the blood. Yes, the first stage of cloting had begun. It was enough.

I pulled his head back, biting deeply into his neck. As always, the blood, warm and rich, flowed easily into my mouth. I drank slowly, savouring the tastes, the fear in this unmerciful angel’s blood.

I shook my head. Enough. Carefully, I licked the wound, fast, gentle strokes. The wound (so small! I could still hardly believe it) made by my teeth closed gently. I did the same to the cut I had made on his elbow. After rolling down his sleeve, I stood, licking my lips.

Cold would not be a problem, at least for an hour. I could feel the heat - his heat - inside me.

After retrieving my knife from the other end of the alley, I started back to Shadows.

As ever, I walked the streets of this city I called home. With winter barely over, it rained most of the time, not enough to annoy, but a slight drizzle in the air that made the city smell fresh. The scents of decay, rotting flesh, were all wafted away from me as I wandered through dark alleys, across parks, down subways. I never took a train, but I liked to sit, and look at the people that ran to catch their trains - to get to jobs, families, an apointment perhaps. All things that had been denied me.

If you listen hard, when you’re underground, you can hear rumblings. Not just the trains. Filter out that rumble, listen to it until it fades, until the voices go, past the hum of the lights and the tapping of water onto the ground. Past all of those things, and a rumbling can still be heard. Deep in the subways, deeper than I’d ever go, something lay. I liked to sit and listen to it, wonder what it was. An ancient beast of some sort? Doubtful. No chains could hold it, and this sound was chained. Held in, reined back. Potential is what it had, and it had a lot of it. Machinery of some dark origin? No. Machinery has no life, and there was life in that sound. Not what you’d call life, but life nonetheless. The strangest idea I ever had was that it was the city itself. Not the walls, the trains, the people, although they were a part, but the soul of the city. The dreams and hopes of the people who lived there.

I’d like to think that maybe - just maybe - I’ve given a bit of myself to that sound. That my hopes helped feed that sound, and it knew I was there.

All wanderings must, however, come to an end. Dawn was approaching, and I had no wish to die that night. I slipped back towards Lake Smithville, and walked slowly along its banks until I came to Shadows. Already the air was light, and I felt sleepy, but I continued to walk slowly, waiting until I began to feel uneasy before stepping inside the bar.

The ghouls smiled at me, keeping a respectable distance away. My tempers had been getting worse of late, and I was at my worst just before dawn. I grinned my thanks at them, went up to my room, and locked myself in.

Only then did I stop to think about the situation I was in. The Justicars are relentless. They can read your mind. They can kill you with ease. I knew the stories. And .... I was putting myself on the line, for a group whose only action had been to bury me and leave me like that. The Sabbat. Killers, evil beings, we are told. Sabbat. My sire was a a Sabbat. She cared for me as a son. But she was a Sabbat. Killers, murderers, diablolists. The Sabbat. Myself. I had survived their rites, and I was a Sabbat.

Thinking like this depressed me, but it needed to be done. I would be called to talk to the Justicar soon, a night or two at most. I had to search my soul, harden myself to whatever tricks he would try. I lay down on the bed, still dressed, snapping my fingers to put some music on. Listening to it, I drifted into sleep.

My eyes flicked open, staring at the ceiling above me. I could feel a trembling, and metal on my wrists and ankles. I was chained down, unable to move. There was no light, but I could feel myself moving, in a car or a van, most probably.

I did the only thing I could to calm myself - I bit my lip and allowed myself the luxury of tasting my own blood. A painful, yet relaxing exercise, I always found.

My eyes, enhanced through my blood, were still unable to penetrate the dark around me. I could hear the engine, and I could smell the exhaust. It sounded like rush hour outside, and I smiled grimly.

The Justicar. My time for talking had come. But I had an advantage he hadn’t foreseen - when he woke me, I would know what was happening. Those first crucial minutes, in which he would try to confuse and deceive me, would be in my favor. Smiling grimly at the battle to come, I succumbed to sleep.

I felt a hand shaking me. I tried to push it away, but it was insistent, and I was too tired to struggle. My eyes opened, but instead of the loathsome Nosferatou I was expecting (Hey, I’ve dealt with sewer rats before) A somber suited young man sat in front of me, gently shaking my arm. He looked pleasant enough, but I could recognize the signs of a Tremere when I saw them, especially when the warlock in question doesn’t bother to hide it.

"Honored to make your acquaintance, Luke Svanuri. I am -"

"Vanyel, archon for the Honorable Justicar. A pleasure, sir." He didn’t bat an eyelid at my guess, but instead smiled. His icy blue eyes caught my own, and held them for a second before he turned his head away from mine.

"Correct, Luke. Incidentally, I know your preference of name, but I will call you Luke. It does not befit one so - apparently - young to take his surname as the required form of address." His voice was calm, pleasant to listen to, but I had to fight to stop myself snapping an insult at his words. What did he mean, ‘apparently’ young? I look fifteen, and I’m about sixteen. I am young. No apparently about it.

"If you insist." I mimicked his speech slightly, something I always do to people who annoyed me. "I presume I am to address you as ‘Sir’? It is hardly fitting for one so humble to be on first name terms with those so mighty as yourself." A glimmer of annoyance was showing on his face, and my lips twitched.

"That ... will do, Luke. I am glad to see you are well informed, as befits a Tremere." I nodded my head, taking it as the compliment it was intended as. "Indeed, even the Regent wasn’t aware I was in the city. You have many friends, my boy. And it is those .... friends .... I wish to talk to you about. "

The verbal sparring was over, and as far as I could tell I hadn’t lost. That couldn’t hurt.

"Luke, contrary to what you think, I aren’t going to hurt you. As long as you have obeyed the Traditions, I have no interest in your doings." He picked up a clipboard and scanned a few sheets of paper, although I knew he had memorized every word. "Indeed, your record in the city - apart from that accident with the Arcanum - is exemplary. I only have a few questions for you."

"Firstly, you disappeared for a period of about three weeks. Where were you?"

I didn’t stop to think, didn’t give him a chance to read my mind. "The woods. Thinking."

"What did you think about? How did you feed?"

"I thought about what I was, why it scared me. I fed on very little, mostly small animals."

"Why does what you are scare you?"

"I - lived on the streets" This was safer ground. "I’m uncomfortable with authority. The Tremere are very structured, and that doesn’t suit me well."

"So, you have problems with our Clan?" He reminded me he was a Tremere, but my answer was already on the way.

"No, I just prefer to do things a different way. As the Clan commands, so shall it be. But as the Clan suggests, I go my own way."

"Fine. As you know, I aren’t here to report back to the Clan." He glanced at me again, his eyes scaring me, reminding me of my dream. "I may do so, if I hear anything against the Clan. Now, how did you get into the Arcanum Chapter House?"

"They invited me in."

His lips curled up at the corners. "You only go where you’re invited? Really? I didn’t have you down as regressive."

"No, I’m just polite."

"As I said. Why did they invite you in?"

"I used to work for them, researching and so on."

"What did you research?" Ah, a purely scholarly interest.

"Words. At the time of my Embrace, I was working on a particular example. Tremere."

He paused. I hadn’t told anyone this before, not wanting to throw away my chance to get back inside the Arcanum.

"Tremere? Really? Where did they get this word from?"

"I don’t know. I delivered a report to them after I doctored the findings. Took out anything that could point to us. I just left in some old history, the Order of Hermes, and a few names from the old times."

"Which names?" His voice, which had been calm, suddenly had a bite to it. I shivered involuntarily, forcing myself not to turn my head away."

"Three, I think. Etirtus, Gorifex, and Meerlinda. They were in an old book I found in -"

He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "Those are members of the Inner Circle! And you gave the Arcanum their names?"

Ah. The Inner Circle is the highest a Tremere can aspire to, only a step down from Tremere himself. "I knew the names before I was a Tremere! If I hadn’t given the names - if I’d given an incomplete report -"

"- You’d have been under suspicion." He sighed, not happy but satisfied about that point. "My boy, you have a lot to learn. But I suspect, and hope, you have the time to learn it. Now, the next subject. The Sabbat. What do you know of them?" He was scrutinizing my face, watching for any hint of a possibility of a lie.

"The Sabbat are killers." My voice was cold, hateful. "They kill, maim, snatch people when they feed. They Embrace constantly, slaughtering their young when they have no need for them. They are beyond contempt."

"I wonder, Luke, why you do not believe what you say?"

"I never knew any of them." I locked my eyes onto his, forcing myself to stare at him. "I form my own opinions, and listen to that. I think what I want to think, not what people tell me to."

He blinked, a bead of blood running down the side of his face. I watched in surprise as he collected it on a finger and dripped it into his mouth. He was as nervous as I - that, or he wanted me to think he was.

"Do you, indeed, think as you want? I doubt it. All the while, you talk to others, hear of their experiences, and they color your judgement. Luke, the only true perspective is that which is formed solely from your own senses and feelings." He stood, and turned away, clasping his pale hands behind himself. "And perspective, remember, is everything. Everything." He turned back towards me, watching my face. "On one hand, you murdered your friend ... Alex, I believe her name was? On the other, you helped to nullify a possible breach of the Masquerade. Both true. The first is reprehensible, the second applaudable. Perspective is all that matters."

I bit my own lip, just to remind myself that I was still alive and could still feel. I knew he was right, and for a second, I had the urge to tell him the truth, all of it. Quickly, I smothered the feeling, but it had had it’s effect. My mouth was open, and Vanyel raised his eyebrow, asking me to continue.

"I - know more of the Sabbat. I know a haven of theirs. A club."

He sat, close now, taking my hand in his. "Luke, childe, what is the name of this club?" Suspicion crept into his voice. "And how do you know of it?"

"They call it DarQness. And I know it - a Sabbat told me. I didn’t know she was Sabbat at the time, just that she was Kindred. It was only when I went there, she only told me then."

He let go of my hand and leaned back, drinking in every word. "She wanted me to join her, for me to become a Sabbat."

"Did you say yes?" He laughed as I shook my head. "I didn’t think you would. You see, what we told you already colored your judgment. As it should." I was shocked at his candor. "Don’t look surprised. You know we try to convince others. In war, it’s called propaganda. And war it is, Luke. Never forget that."

I nodded as he stood and motioned for me to do the same. I did so, blinking at the sudden movement.

"It’s a war we have to win. You were probably created to be a pawn in that war, yet even a pawn may become a knight." He began to pace about the dim room, and I walked with him. "Of course, to do so, the pawn must brave dangers it has no defense against. Such is the case here. You, yourself, are worthless to them .... you are no fighter." He didn’t bother for my reply. "Oh, you have some skill with knives, but little more. There must be something else. Something valuable." He stopped suddenly. "You know what it is, don’t you?"

I looked at him, puzzled. What was he talking about? I’d been Embraced because I tried to help someone, not because of any special qualities. Shaking my head at the man, I look around, noting the room, glancing at the chairs, trying not to look at those icy eyes which stared at me.

"Very well." He touched my shoulder, and gestured to the door. "Thank you, Luke. I think we will talk again. I am sure of it. You intrigue me." He moved back to the chairs, picked up the clipboard, and made some cursory notes, before walking back to me. "I believe you are at work? Or do you only have to turn up occasionally?"

"I turn up as I can." My reply was simple, in contrast to his questions.

"If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stop work for a week." He held up a hand, and pulled an envelope from his pocket. "Give this to your manager. He won’t mind."

I took the paper, shrugging. "What do you want me to do in this week?"

"Luke, what you are going to do this week is begin to research something else. Opinions. I want you to sit in Shadows, with a glass of wyne, buying people drinks, and talking to them. Talk of what you wish. But remember it all. When you find out what you need to know, write it down. I’ll find you at the end of the week." He guided me to the door and opened it. "A pleasure, Luke Svanuri."

"Likewise, sir" I replied automatically "But, how will I kno -" I got no further as the door clicked shut.

Polite, don’t you think? That’s why I don’t like being told what to do. Automatically, I began to wander the streets, not bothering to note the basement I’d been in. It wasn’t as if he’d be there again.

A few drops of water fell onto the pavement ahead. Great. I began to hurry, looking for a place I knew, or at least recognized. Then I realized where I was. I could get to DarQness in five minutes.

The trouble with that was I might meet someone who wanted to kill me. So what else is new, I thought, as I began to run for the club. The rain was falling faster and faster, and while I enjoy a hot shower, there is little I detest more than cold rain.

One of the bouncers stepped into my way as I tried to walk in.

"Scuse me, pal. But a gentleman wants a word with you." He grabbed my arm "Says the consequences don’t matter."

I shrugged. "Those were his words?" The man nodded, pulling me towards the rear of the club. "Oh, well, with no consequences ..." I paused just long enough to make him look around, then twisted my head around and bit into his arm. As he pulled away, more from shock than pain, I followed up with an elbow in the stomach. Hey, even ghouls need to breathe. He tried to punch me as he doubled over, but years on the streets had given me good reactions. Not good enough to stop the man behind me grabbing my shoulders, though.

"Svanuri. So glad you decided to come."

Justices’ voice.

Shit.

More from habit than choice, I took a deep breath before turning and smiling brightly. As I suspected, he was standing there, dressed in casual blacks, smiling fiercely at me. What I didn’t suspect was the way he threw his arms around me and pulled me towards him, laughing for some reason.

"Svanuri, where in the name of God have you been hiding?" He let me go and I stepped back. He ran his eyes over me, smiling. "Nice suit, by the way. The Tremere give you it?"

I turned my head away, grinned at the injured ghoul, then looked back at Justice. "You took your time to find me. I don’t know, you bury me, leave me underground, then don’t bother looking me up when I get out. I don’t know." I shook my head theatrically, still edging away from this man.

He motioned, and my shoulders were grabbed. He smiled, stepping forward and bending down to eye level with me.

"Svanuri, please. It’s no use running, it really isn’t. You can’t ignore what you are, and what you are is one of us, for all the Tremere dress you up." He fingered the fabric of the suit, grimacing. "I really don’t see the appeal. But enough pleasantries."

"These are pleasantries?! I shot back, trying to pull myself free. "If they are, I don’t think we should leave them!"

He gestured again, and the hands let me go. Straightening my jacket, I nodded my thanks as he put an arm around my shoulders, and started walking towards a door set in the side of the club, leaving me little choice but to go with him.

Once we were in private, he motioned for me to sit, before doing so himself, resting his legs on the table between us. "Svanuri, you are the most interesting kid I’ve ever met. Not only you survive the Creation Rites" - I mentally substituted the words ‘being buried alive’ - "But you do it in broad daylight. And leave spademarks. Hmm?"

He raised an eyebrow as I cursed inwardly. I couldn’t tell him the truth - that a bunch of mortals dug me up. My sire had tried to impress Sabbat ideology on me - that vampires (not Kindred, never say Kindred) were superior to mortals. Yeah right. And humans are superior to cattle.

Instead of saying anything, I just smiled, slowly and calmly. The second a flicker of annoyance showed in his eyes, I began.

"I know it must seem confusing. I have to thank you for the courtesy you have shown me. As unwelcome as I must seem, I am grateful to you." Ah, the value of spending time with the Tremere, the masters of shovelling.

"Luke, who dug you up?"

Short and to the point, yes? I didn’t want to answer, but did anyway. "The Arcanum."

His knuckles whitened slightly, but that was the only immediate reaction. When he spoke, his voice was flat and measured. "The Arcanum." A statement, not asking for confirmation. I decided now would be a good time to give him the better news.

"Yeah, the Arcanum. The one who arranged it - some woman called Alex - well ..." I licked my lips, looking him straight in the eyes. "I like to be woken up by a warm breakfast."

Inside, I was almost in tears. It hurt me to talk about my friends in this callous way, to act as though I didn’t care about their lives. But if I didn’t pretend - if I didn’t act as a proper Sabbat - my chances of walking out of this room would be zero. So I appeared calm, even contemptuous, even as I was quaking in fear at my own behavior.

Thankfully, Justice didn’t seem to pick up on this little ‘crisis’. If he did, then he certainly wasn’t showing it. The Elders always know how to appear calm. I don’t get it.

"You killed a member of the Arcanum? Really?" He eyes me, no longer angry or amused. The look in his eyes was one I didn’t see often - that of respect. "If that’s true - and I know you don’t enjoy lying - then you have a lot more to offer than I thought." He grinned and swung his legs down from the table, getting to his feet. "Tell the truth, I’m impressed. See you soon." He left, leaving me wondering about that little change of heart.

I mean, the guy was a Sabbat! They’re all nasty and go round killing - that’s what Vanyel believes. Then I stood, leaving myself, wanting to make sure no mind readers caught even the edge of my thoughts. It’s no crime to go in Shadows, but to talk to the Justicars...

"Hey, Watch it, will ya?" I turned to the person I had felt jog my arm, and then looked again at what I saw.

Stood there was a girl, about my age from her height, and she had the smile and the tremors of the Newly Embraced. Easy to recognize, the skin shivering at the cold of the world. She was looking right at me, her arm on my elbow. Not an accident, then.

"Excuse me, but are you Luke Svanuri?" Her voice was softer than any I’d heard in months, and the slight shake as she spoke only increased my fascination with the girl.

I smiled at her, slipping her hand off me and taking it in my own. "I am. May I help you miss ...?

"Oh!" She bit her lower lip and looked away slightly, embarrassed. "I’m Kamiana - Kami for short." I looked nonplussed. "Didn’t Chalandraia mention me?" Her voice shivered slightly as she spoke.

"Yes, she did. Just not your name or anything." I smiled at her, trying to keep calm myself as well as to reassure her.

Suddenly she didn’t seem so shy, tightening her grip on my hand and prancing over to an empty table. Once there, she sat down and pulled me down next to her, sliding one arm around me.

"So, Luke, tell me a bit about yourself" She was grinning widely, and I was slightly disturbed to see that she was letting her fangs down. In public, for God’s sake! I know the Sabbat do things differently, but even so ....

I forced myself not to stare. "I’m sure ... er ... Chalandraia told you most of it." I licked my lips nervously, as much from habit as anything else.

She misinterpreted it, of course. "Luke! Are you thirsty?" Her eyes were gleaming with an impish light. "I’d be only too happy to give you a drink."

"You, er, probably would" I mumbled, staring at the table. I could see her grinning at me, licking one of her canines. Then her hand took my chin and gently lifted it to meet her gaze.

"Luke ...." she began, trailing her voice in a way to make even a cold-blooded male sweat blood "Luke, do you want to do anything?" Even before I answered, I felt her hand run across my head, and pull back. I could see her amused expression at the thin film of blood - my blood -on it. "My, my, my. I think you’re getting excited, yes?"

Embarrassed, more like! I mumbled something inaudible, but she just carried on smiling, then leaned forwards and kissed my cheek gently with ice cold lips.

"Listen." I pushed her away as gently as I could, trying not to hurt her feelings. "I appreciate the offer, but I don’t do that type of thing." Not a lie in the strictest sense of the word, but close enough to bother me normally. I wasn’t bothered at the time.

She smiled back at me, a gently smile this time, not the heartstarting one. "Okay, Luke. Chal told me you’d probably say that."

"You asked my sire about trying to seduce me?" I was so amazed I didn’t even try to mix my words. Thankfully, she didn’t take offence.

"Of course I did. It’s always better to have permission from your parents before you try anything." Was that a regretful look in her eye?

I decided not to persue it, as much in the interests of good taste as anything else. "She’s not my mother. I don’t know what you’re sire told you, but-"

"My sire?" She looked shocked for a moment, then giggled, taking my hand again. "Listen, my sire is one of the most darling women in our lives, brother."

"Brother?" I groaned as her eyes twinkled at me. Now I understood Chal’s reference - ‘the type I’d have chosen’. I shook my head as she put an arm around me, obviously delighted at my reaction.

"We’re getting to be quite the little family now, aren’t we?" I didn’t even have to turn around to know that voice.

"Hi, Chalandraia."

My tired response was nothing compared to the squeal of excitement from Kamiana - my sister, God help me - as she threw herself at my - our - sire. They wrapped their arms around each other and I could see Chalandraia’s amused smile.

"Not joining in the family get together, Luke?" She sat down opposite me, clicking her fingers at the bar as she did so.

"I think I’ll miss on the hugging part." I leaned back, slightly more comfortable now my sire was present. Kamiana wouldn’t - surely she wouldn’t - try anything with her sire present.

How easy is it to tell I don’t have much experience with sisters? Kami slid in next to me, eyes wide as a waitress brought three drinks over.

I immediately took a sip, and Kami took the opportunity to speak. "He wanted to go off and drink from me, Chal."

I almost spat the blood back into the glass! When I was calm enough to look up without growling or protesting my innocence, I glanced at my sire.

She was smiling at me, and I didn’t like it at all. "Really? Luke wanted a drink .... " She smiled at the grinning girl next to me. "I’m impressed, my daughter. You’re quite the little tease." A giggle escaped from the girl next to me. "But Luke would never ... could never drink from you." Needless to say, I started paying attention here. "You see, neither of my childer have participated in to vol-dur-ee yet." That was how she pronounced it - vol-dur-ee. What was that? Another Sabbat ritual? The last one almost killed me.