Necare Sanguise



Chapter I

Sept. 5, 1997


    It is early in the night with a sliver of a moon showing, peaking every once and a while behind thick, ghostly white clouds. The weather is warm as per usual in the San Diego clime. The large willows and pines along the clean upper-class neighborhood street are gently swaying in the soothing light breeze. A dark four-door Mercedes Benz stops before a ten foot hight rod iron gate to a beautifully constructed gray, marble, three-story house. Just beyond and to the left of the house the top of the giant white cross atop Mount Soledad is plainly seen. The driver rolls his over tinted window down, reaches out the window, and enters his access code on the key pad. The double door gate opens inward while the driver rolls the window up and drives around a fountain of a realistic looking female water bearer, to the front of the Roman columed front porch. The gate closed as the driver got out and popped the trunk. Two scantily dressed younger women get out of the back doors and another conservatively dressed woman got out on the passenger's side.
    The driver was a tall heavy set man bordering on the fat side wearing an expensive and finely cut Italian suit. He had dark skin, short staight black hair, and a thick black mustache. By his facial features it was hard to tell if he was of Latino or Middle Eastern decent, unless one asked him. He walked over to the open trunk and pulled out a metal briefcase. The two blondes and redhead were already at the front door. The readheaded conservatvely dressed women is greated at the door by an older white man in a butler's uniform.
    The driver closed the trunk, tossed the keys to the butler, and in a warm full voice with a slight French accent said, "Harold put the car in the garage."
    "Yes Master Quelzim. Oh sir Mr. John Armstrong called just five minutes ago. He asked that you call him back as soon as possible. And the drinks are ready in the study."
    "Thank you Harold. I want you to go to the library when you are done. Linda lead these fine ladies to the study. I'll be with you shortly."
    Linda and the two blondes walked past the wide staircase and past the grand piano to a set of closed double doors. Linda pushed the doors open and walked over to the well-stocked bar. The room was decorated with three never seen original oil paintings by the late Van Gogh. The thickly padded green carpet had specks of gold in the shape of roses spaced uniformly. The walls and bar were a lightly lacquered hardwood. A modest library lined one of the walls. Four plush black leather chairs sat in a semicircle near the fireplace. The lights were dimmed. The ladies took the seats facing away from the doors. Linda handed them their drinks and pretended to sip on her own martini.
    Alhafsa Quelzim accended the stairs to the second floor. He pulled a key out of his breast pocket and opened the metal door at the end of the hall. The lights came on as he stepped past the sensors and into the room. he walked behind the large wooden desk and removed a print of Whistler's Mother from the wall. Behind it was a large wall safe. He opened the combination lock of the briefcase and the wall safe. He began transferring large bundles of hundreds to the safe. When he was done he put the picture back and dialed a phone number. Someone picked up and Alhafsa pressed the record button on a nearby machine.
    "Hello?"
    "Mr. Armstrong it is me Albert."
    "Hey Al, I'm glad that you called me back so soon. The names of those horses you gave me last week really paid off. I was wondering if you would like to go to the Chargers' game next week? I also really need to talk to you. I need some advice on how to handle Caldwell with my stadium plans."
    "Mr. Armstrong you know that our Prince is not going to go for your baseball stadium anytime soon. Melanie is bored by baseball and it seems that the public agrees with her. I do however have some other ideas for your downtown expansion. Is there a game this week?"
    "Actually the Aztecs play tonight. If you would like to meet me there?"
    "Alas I already have plans tonight, besides I don't really follow college football. Isn't there a game this Sunday?"
    "Yes, but they play in New Orleans. We could meet at Sports City in La Jolla. It's not nearly as private as my booth at the stadium, but we could talk in one of our cars?"
    "Tomorrow then, I'll see you at eight-thirty."
    He hung up and the recording automatically stopped. He locked everything up and joined Linda and the ladies. Linda handed him his drink as he entered the door. He downed it and purposefully walked over to the shorter blonde and took her hand in his.
    "Would you ladies like to see the rest of the house now?"
    They were totally captivated by his presence. The two blondes put their half finished drinks down and followed him. Linda grabbed the hand of the taller one and looked intently into her eyes. Linda's eyes morphed into the mesmerizing opacity of a serpent's. The taller woman stood there transfixed.
    "We'll join them later", she said as she leaned in and started kissing the woman's neck. She bit down and started feeding as Alhafsa and his date closed and locked the doors behind them.
    "We will start our tour with the library. I'm sure you'll find it unique."
    He led her past the stairs and into a room with shelves set all across the room. He closed the door behind him and pulled a thick book, Milton's Paradise Lost from its shelf and a nearby shelf of books slid open to reveal an old cement staircase heading deep underground. She heard erie chanting down below. He started taking off his jacket and shirt. She was still interested in turning a trick for this extreamly rich John, but was starting to really worry about her safety. He grabbed her hand and started going down the stairs.
    "So what's down there", she stammered?
    He patted her on the hand and said, "You'll see."
    As they went lower the voices got louder and the air got thicker with incense. As they reached the bottom of the stairs two men in black robes grabbed her from behind. She screamed and the chanting kept up a the steady pace. The men carried her over to a golden alter that was in the shape of a giant Asp. She was strapped down on top of the coiled body of the snake and gagged. There were six torches placed about the room that revealed the chorus of twenty people in dark grey hooded robes kneeling before the alter. On the tan wall behind the great snake in black were hieroglyphics detailing a great battle in the Nile Valley in ages past. Alhafsa stood before the alter holding his arms out and facing the snake. Harold the butler also dressed in dark grey robes came from an ante chamber to the left and dressed Alhafsa in his finely decorated black robe and gold colored priest's hat. He held his hands up and turned to face the crowd. They immediately quieted down.
    "We sacrifice this corrupted soul in honor of our Dark Lord Set. I will wait for a sign of his acceptance of this gift."
    He faced the alter and let his arms hang loosely at his sides. His hair and finger nails retracted into his skin and his arms started shrinking into his sleeves. His pants fell off his contracting frame. He began is own chant.
    "As bak seb ankh." (Thy soul is a Living Star)
    "S-thenen ab en Set-heh aasha." (Scintillating Heart of the Roaring Eternal fire of Set)
    The final stages of his transformation were always the most painful. His legs elongated and melted together. His head and trunk pulled tightly inwards. His robe and hat fell away to reveal his new form of an eight foot long asp. The asp raised its head while it was swaying back and forth in front of the woman on the alter. The followers chanted in low tones. The asp struck light lightening at the neck and the woman went into convulsions. Alhafsa then started drinking the woman's blood. The snake's scales took on a wet healthy sheen.
    The asp slithered over the body and into the mouth of the golden idol and down into its darker recesses. Unseen and unheard by all the snake went through violent convulsions with hands and feet forming and retracting. Through all of this the cultist increased their chanting to Set.
    An hour had passed and Alhafsa the asp came out of the mouth and started changing back into his human form. Two months ago it only took him ten minutes to deposit his blood into the snake idol, but his followers wouldn't dare complain. Most of them were dying because of Alhafsa's tainted blood, but they kept coming back in the hopes that Set was just testing them. The drained woman's body had been removed from the alter and thrown into a fire pit in a near by room. For a second he still looked sick, but it passed as soon as he put his robe and hat on. Linda came down the stairs in her own black robe with a golden chalice in hand. She handed it to him and fell in line with the worshippers.
    "Oh great Set I humbly ask that you grant your most worthy followers a blessing."
    He stepped up to the alter and held the chalice under the right fang of the asp. Blood poured into the cup from the tip of the fang as he pushed on a hidden button with his other hand. All those in the grey robes lined up down the center aisle and waited to take their unholy communion. Each of them took a sip from the chalice and thanked Set for the vigor the blood imparted.



Sept. 6, 1997.


    I'm not dead. My heart, its stopped but I'm still here. I didn't fucking want this! How could they do this to me? I really just wanted to dance with her. She is hot, what am I saying? She made me into a monster!
    I've never known such desire, thirst, no...hunger as this. The blood, the blood, some blood, any blood. Their blood? I almost don't care anymore, about anyone, anything. I killed two innocents barely hours ago. I can still see their bulging eyes, their screams. They sounded British. They were an attractive couple with a happy future togther, but the Monster saw only food. It must have been a Monster, it couldn't have been me.
    I can't move anything. I'm naked and on my back on top of an unsanded wooden table. I'm being restrained but I can't feel any straps against my ankles or wrists. It feels like there's a boulder keeping me down but it feels like it's on the left side of my chest? I know that my eyes are open but I can't see shit; it's pitch black. The air is damp and slightly cool. I must be in someone's basement. I've been hearing floor boards creak above me and muffled voices. Their voices! A door is being opened, they're coming down the stairs. Aaahg, the light is on...



Sept. 5, 1997


    It's ten o'clock and Garnet St. in Pacific Beach is alive as ever. College age men and women are cruising the strip in convertibles, Jeeps, hoopdees, and many others on foot. Some are waiting in lines for the clubs others are going in and out of the many bars and tattoo parlors that dot either side of the street. People are draped in ther baggies, miniskirts, or shorts. The ocassional police cruiser patrols the area to break up potential fights or make the occasional drug bust.
    The night is dark with a crescent moon. The clouds off the coast are obscuring the otherwise spectacular view of the stars. It's warm out, still summer weather with a soothing breeze from the ocean. Not many people are walking the poorly lit beach; only the foolish, the homeless settling down for the night, and the seedier elements.
    "Help! Rape! Oh my God no! Let go of me!" A college woman screams out as she is dragged into the public bathroom on the beach. She is wearing a tight tank top and a miniskirt.
    The assailant is clad in leather and stands just over five feet tall. The sodium lights show her black hair with reddish highlights, dark eyes, and smooth skin as her right arm clamps around the victim's neck. She flashes a wicked smile when two of her packmates jump out, pull bowie knives, and bar the entrance. Both men stand about six feet tall and are similarly dressed. One is bald save for a thin red beard and red eye brows over sparkling blue eyes. The other has long brown matted hair, feral eyes, and a hawk nose. The girl screams agin. Rachel spins the girl around, grasps her shoulders in an iron grip, and with the look of a predator stares her straight in her panic stricken eyes.
    "Shut up and quit struggling!"
    The girl obeys instantly. With every fiber in her being she wants to scream, run, and hide, but she can't. She can't even tare her eyes away from Rachel's deadly gaze. She hears the squeak of a stall opening and out of her periphery she sees two more leather clad forms flanking Rachel. Sweat is running from every pore, she feels like throwing up, and she is trembling with hysterical fear. Rachel lets her grip fall and commands the girl to stay, as if she were a dog.
    "Don't worry honey, I just want your clothes. Sex is the furthest thing from our minds. Now be a good girl and take off all of your clothes and hand them one at a time to Tina. And your silly little backpack too."
    Tina has been standing to Rachel's left. She is five inches taller than her superior. She wears a leather miniskirt and an oversized studded leather jacket. She has curly black shoulder length hair, full lips, and a cute nose. Her body is well toned and still has traces of a nice tan. Her eyes have been silently caressing the college student's more sensitive areas. She wanted much more than the girl's clothes. Rachel would be furious if she dared to act without permission. Instead of submitting to her carnal desires she would wait patiently, that's what she was good at.
    Rachel likewise started handing her discarded clothes to Mike, the guy to her right. He stood erect and laughed mockingly at the college girl's distress. He wore a black leather trench coat with many holes in it from previous shoot-outs. He looked of Japanese American descent, had a thick black mustache, a died blonde crew cut, and green tinted granny specs. He was built like a football player and was significantly taller than Tina. In no time both women were stark naked and standing face to face.
    "Please let me go. You can keep my clothes, but just don't hurt me." The college girl still couldn't move. Rachel took both sets of clothes and handed them to the guys at the door.
    "Jason. Manuel. Hold these, I don't want to get either dirty."
    The college girl started to sob. Rachel slowly walked in front of her again. She commanded her to shut up and relax. The girl complied. Rachel then slithered up against her naked body until she was standing pressed up against her back. Rachel then rested her chin on the girl's left shoulder. Rachel lightly wrapped her arms around the girl's stomach.
    In a throaty voice Rachel queried, "So what are you guys waiting for?"
    The three sprang as one; Rachel bitting down on her neck, Tina attacking the left arm, and Mike attacking the right arm. She threw her head back first in pain then ecstasy as her lifeblood was quickly being drained away. Jason and Manuel looked on in envy. They had fed earlier, so were not permitted to join in. The trio then carefully laid the body on the floor. Her face was a mask of rapture forever frozen in time.
    Rachel sauntered over to the nearest sink and washed off any excess blood. She quickly got dressed in the student's clothes and started rummaging through the backpack for make-up and gum.
    "Mike, Jason dispose of the body. All of you be under the pier around one. Later tonight we must perform the Vaulderie."
    All of their spirits raised. Tina let out a squeal of delight. The Vaulderie is the ritualistic drinking of each other's blood. It is known amongst the Sabbat to strengthen the connection to the pack. It's a mystical connection that if practiced regularly makes the packmates more willing to fight and die for each other. Add to the fact that Vampire vitae is more potent than a human's and one can understand the draw of the ritual. They hadn't shared the blood since the fall of their leader Hector more than a month ago.
    Rachel felt that he was too weak to be their leader. In the Sabbat only the strongest should survive. It is the Lasombra who truly rule the Sabbat, or so they think. The Tzimisce are the power behind the throne. Hector forgot to stay behind the throne. The others also didn't really trust him enough. He was excellent at planning the important stuff, but was a piss poor field commander. It was also noticed that he rarely put his own life in danger for the pack. On one such occassion a werewolf stumbled into their temporary haven and proceeded to hack and slash them with reckless abandon. Instead of lending his muscle to possibly kill the beast, Hector bolted at the first sign of trouble. They somehow managed to cripple the lone warrior, but not before four more rage filled werewolves exploded through the west wall. After they barely escaped Rachel flew into a frenzy, challenged Hector for the leadership, and with her bare hands she ripped his head and testicles clean off. She preserved the latter and wears them in a small leather pouch on a silver chain around her neck. Since then she was recognized as the leader of the pack. She was previously serving as the pack's priest.
    Since her clan was known to not cast reflections, Tina helped her with the make-up and they made their way towards the clubs. Manuel put his knife away, gathered up Rachel's leather and headed for their van. With his right hand Mike reached into his trench coat and pulled out a katana. He did three fast cuts in the air and then gave Jason a nod. Jason put his knife away and pulled out a black body bag. With one arm he picked up the body from behind and with his free hand gathered the corpse's hair above her head and away from the neck. Mike made a quick horizontal cut, Jason then let go of the hair and the head fell to the floor. They then proceeded to cut the arms and legs off. They gathered the pieces into the bag and made their way to the beach. Five minutes later something that looked like a man dressed in a black fedora, combat boots, and a brown trench coat dropped from his hiding place on the roof of the ceiling to the bathroom floor. He then silently padded out of the ladies' room and without being seen made his way to the pier.
    "Hey Elk are you ready?"
    "Yeah, just a minute. Alright let's go."
    "So...where're we going?"
    "First we're going over to Karla and Laura's place and then we're gonna go out to the bars. There's a bunch of people over there already and we're celebrating Laura's birthday."
    They both got into Running Elk's black '94 Chevy truck and drove to Karla and Laura's place. Running Elk Kinsley, or Elk to his friends is half Blackfoot Indian the other half German-Irish. He has close cut light brown hair almost spiky, wise brown eyes, and is fair skinned with a slightly freckeled nose. He is six feet tall and weighs one eighty-five. He has a medium build with toned legs and wide shoulders. He is well shaped and in good condition except for the little that he carries around the middle. He is wearing a button collared brownish grey T-shirt, black shorts, leather moccasins, and on his right index finger an ornate silver ring with a Native American head wearing a feathered bonnet. He has an easy going personality, friendly smile, and many friends. He and his friend Oscar have spent the last four days looking for an apartment to move into by this coming Sunday. This is hopefully their last year at UCSD
    Oscar Rudolfo Pedro Lopez III. Those that know him just call him Oscar. He also answers to Vito, his recent nickname given for his "Godfather" status in surfing amongst his friends. He is Yaqui Indian, Ukranian, Chicano, and Scottish. He inherited the Mediterranian features of his Conquistador ancestors. He has curly dark brown hair, short on the sides, and long in the back. He has ear length sideburns, a handlebar mustache, and a finely centered line of hair that matches the length down his chin. He is fair skinned with a good tan and hazel eyes. He is five foot six and weighs one forty-five. He is in good shape from surfing and years of martial arts training.
    He is wearing a white cotton T-shirt, dark blue 501's, and black and light brown colored Vans. He is introspective, has a quick whited wry sense of humor, but as of late has been acting mostly withdrawn due to recent circumstances beyond his control. His five previously close roommates whom lived together for the past 2 years decided without him that he wouldn't be living with them in their new place. Their reason was that they didn't want it to be too crowded, but Oscar suspected that he was being used as a buffer against the possibility of Andre also moving in with them. Andre shared a room with Oscar and he used to live with the gang up until February. With very little warning Andre began tripping out and after an emergency hospital visit was held and diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. He is probably at home in Barstow now. Oscar had no choice so accepted it and decided that he would try to get a place with Elk who was hiding out in L.A. at the time. It was two months ago that their intial snubbing began. It seemed to Oscar that his roommates tried their hardest to exclude him from all group activities and generally showed him no respect. He is very bitter about the whole experience.
    Elk and Oscar got to the girls' condo and joined in the revelry. The mixed group got into two cars and headed for Pacific Beach. They parked off the main street and went to someone's condo to pick up more people for the celebration. They made their way to the Plumb Crazy Bar.
    It was a very well lit bar. The place was full, but not crowded. There were two young bartenders serving up drinks. It was mostly a white crowd. The place looked new and very clean. Walking in on one's right side there was a well stocked thirty foot long bar. Along that wall in the back three Southern California dressed guys were watching another play some video game. There was a couple playing nine ball at a nearby table. Close by, along the other side of the wall were two bar high tables, two fuzeball tables, and near the entrance a jukebox with mostly alternative sounds spilling out.
    When the group got past the two black-shirted bouncers Elk stepped up to the bar and ordered a Blue Hawaiian for Laura and himself. Oscar bought one for himself. The six otheres in the group ordered Killian's Red and Pear Cider. Laura and a guy named Joahnas played fuzeball against Karla and her boyfriend Charles. Soon after they went over to the jukebox and hung out with their smoking friends at the front window.
    "What's that", Oscar asked as he pointed at Elk's red-orange drink in a highball glass?
    "It's a 9-1-1. It's damn good, try some", Elk said as he handed him the glass.
    "That's hella good. I can't even taste the alchohol, what's in it?"
    "I don't know, but she says it's the house specialty. I saw her pour seven different alchohols, a spash of grenadine, and maybe an ounce of pineapple juice. You should get one. I had a shot of J.D. with Laura."
    Oscar checked his walledt and said, "I think I have enough, but aren't we going dancing after this, isn't there a cover charge?"
    "Don't worry about it. I'll buy you a shot, if you'll buy a drink. If you don't have enough when we get to the club I'll spot you. Alright?"
    In his best Bart Simpson voice he replied, "cool man."
    Oscar went to the bar ordered a 9-1-1. Elk ordered him a shot of Jack Daniel's whiskey. The people sitting a the bar stopped their converstations and watched in awe as the bartender made the drink. Oscar downed the shot like a true expert and walked on over to the fuzeball table with his wicked drink in hand.
    "Damn that's really good. Wanna play?"
    "Sure."



    A cellular phone set on vibrate went off in Jason's front pants pocket. Mike and Jason are hanging out under the pitch-black pier as the tide washes tangles of seaweed on to the shore.
    "Hey Mike, either the ocean air is somehow turning me on or Toldoy is calling."
    "shit, I thought Rachel had the phone."
    "No, she gave it to me so she could go to the clubs without any interruptions. I'd better answer, make sure there is no one around. Hello?"
    "Put her on", said a gravely voice on the other end.
    Jason answered as cordially as possible, "I'm sorry your Eminence Toldoy this is Jason. Rachel is out hunting at the moment. How can I help you?"
    "Fine you'll have to do. Progress report?"
    Three weeks ago Larn Toldoy heard a rumor about a plague spreader, a vampire who either willingly or unwillingly gives a disease to those he or she feeds on. Sometimes the disease is a minor one like a cold or chicken pox, but in some cases it has been fatal like the Ebola virus or HIV. Sometimes such plague spreaders are killed on the spot due to the Sabbat's practice of Vauldrie and the fear of spreading it even wider. Toldoy knew that this particular disease was a robust strain of malaria and more importantly for his daibolical uses it reportedly temporarily weakens Vampires who feed from such infected vessels. His sources pointed to L.A. so he sent the pack off immediately. His orders were to bring the Vampire and any of his progeny of his back to him alive. He gave them a picture and warned them that the Vamp was a Follower of Set, also known as Setites. He made sure not to tell them that the Setite carried a blood disease, nor that he worked with the guy before, nor that he was the one that sent patient zero to join the Setite's feeding herd. He made them swear a blood oath not to discuss the nature of their mission to anybody including fellow Sabbat.
    Larn Toldoy is Malkavian antitribu. He is a very attractive Scandinavian male, with close cut blond hair, deep blue eyes, and an Amish beard from his breathing days. He is very intelligent and has outlived most of his enemies. The other packmates have a healthy fear of Rachel, but in Toldoy's presence they feel a chill to their very bones from his sheer ruthlessness and growing insanity. Most packs would rather sunbath to oblivion rather than take orders from a Malkavian antitribu, but they owe him a major boon.
    Ten years ago in New York as Toldoy was breaking into an abandoned apartment complex to torch it, he stumbled upon the haven of a Camarilla elder. The unsuspecting Toreador was still sleeping when Toldoy found him. Not missing a golden opportunity he staked him, brought him back to his lair, and over the course of three weeks tortured him for the locations of his progeny's havens. Toldoy left the elder staked until he successfully confirmed all six locations. As a true testament to his dark destiny he stalked the childer for a week, brought them all back to his haven staked, and Diablerized their sire in front of them. He grew much more potent in the blood and had to go out on the town and test his new state. As he was leaving his sewer lair he spotted and was spotted by Hector's pack, they quickly flashed their Sabbat hand jestures, and everybody relaxed a bit. Two powerful voices compeated in his head; one urging him to slaughter the pack quickly to keep his haven a secret, the other whispering promises of a powerful object and laying down plans for future conquests in the West. After the previous weeks of careful planning and execution of plans he wisely listened to the second voice. He chose to make some powerful allies.
    Toldoy invited the pack, Dragon's Maw, into his haven. He gave them a grand tour of his seven room underground lair. All the rooms were immaculate save the seventh which was chained and bared shut. The pack didn't know what to make of this Malkavian, they could all sense the power radiating off of him and knew that they had been centimeters away from annihilation by the psycho monster. As the group came to the seventh door he wheted their curiosity and tested the group's courage by saying that, "I have a wonderful suprise for any of you that dare to enter this room."
    Dragon's Maw never backed down from a challenge. With a nod from the leader Hector, Rachel knifed her hands into the sides of the wooden door and ripped it and the chains and bars holding it off of it's hinges. The pack rushed through the portal and stumbled over the various devises and bodies in the pitch black room. Toldoy laughed gleefully, followed them in much slower, and clapped his hands twice. The lights came on and they could see the torture's racks and six pretty Vampires with arms and legs chained to chairs with stakes through their hearts. He asked the pack to sit on the floor in a semicircle, they did. He then told them all about his great adventure and that because he was impressed with their bravery that he would allow each of them the same opportunity on the staked Vamps. This wasn't the first time they drank the heart's blood, they had been on war parties before and lowered their generation via some of the slower of the Camarilla. Toldoy shook all of their hands and disappeared into the night.
    Dragon's Maw had relocated to L.A. four months ago to try and make a name for themselves out West. They found L.A. a fun great place to let loose on unsuspecting Anarchs, but the Vampire political situation shifted each night like quicksand so they set their sights on something more valuable, San Diego. They did some minor reconnosance and made their way to Tiajuanna to see what other Sabbat resources were being thrown at the city.
    In Tiajuanna, a Sabbat controlled city, they met its Archbishop Don Lucas Urquidez. He was a ruthless and wild Brujah antitribu, but also was respected for his sound tactical prowess. T.J. had long been a staging area for Sabbat Crusades into California. The Sect thinks that it can one day take the Anarch Free States in total, but has met with little success. One of their major obstacles is the very real resistance encountered at the border.
    Most of the unawakened believe that Operation Gatekeeper and other U.S. federally funded border improvements are keeping the country safe from the worst criminals. What they don't know is that a Sept of Werewolves actually patrol the border for supernatural invaders. They are called the Sept de la Frontera Finale and their territory stretches from El Centro to the Pacific Ocean along both sides of the border. The night after Dragon's Maw crossed the border the Camarila holdouts of San Diego put their plans in motion to take the city back from the Anarchs. Someone in San Diego warned the Border Sept to look out for some strange crossers. Over the next three nights the Camarila forces fought in the streets and drove all of the Anarchs out of town. They also kept great numbers of Sabbat forces from sneaking in due to their alliance at the border.
    When Dragon's Maw came before Archibishop Urquidez he must have seen something special in them, because he asked them if they would follow his plan to take San Diego for the Sabbat. They were instructed to keep a very low profile. He knew that eventually the Camarila would be forced by their Tradions to eventually let the Anarchs back into town. When this important juncture happened the pack was to split, half joining the Anarchs and the other Maquerading as Camarila. They were supposed to see who they could sway towards the Sabbat and who to kill off. They then were to start making plans to smuggle a pack at a time into San Diego and when they had the numbers follow the normal Crusade procedures. Urquidez's plan was slower than what others had planned in the past, his rough estimates put the full fruitation of results in one and a half to three years. He never bothered to clear his plan with the ruling council in Mexico City, why let them in on his thing and have them take all the credit.
    One of his lieutentants, a Tzimisce named Moua Chase, fully supported him in his plan. She was to act as their liason to the busy Archbishop. All involved promised to keep the plans secret. Two months ago Archbishop Urquidez was tragically killed by a mage of the Celestial Chorus. It was a case of mistaken identity, but the Sabbat battled fiercely for recognition as the next Archbishop in the wild city. Seemingly unrelated on the same night Larn Toldoy was recognized as the Archbiship of Tecate.
    During the fighting in T.J. Chase knew she didn't have the muscle to claim the city, but saw a bigger future in Urquidez's plans. She decided to pull up stakes and moved to a quieter town to contine the plans. She went to Tecate and was suprised when two weeks later sh was offered a Bishopric by Toldoy. Bishop Chase decided not to tell the pack about Urquidez's death so as not to worry them. Chase also didn't tell Toldoy about the plans or the pack she had hidden in San Diego.
    Dragon's Maw had to make a trip down to Mexico City three weeks ago for some of their members to find teachers to train in the higher levels of Disciplines. They were enjoying their stay in the city of Sabbat power, when who should they run into but their old buddy Larn Toldoy. They congratulated Toldoy on his prestigious title and he congratulated them for living another decade. After the room quieted he asked them for the favor. Of course they lied and told him that they were living in L.A. Dragon's Maw still keeps in contact with Bishop Chase, but have told her nothing about the mission that Toldoy sent them on. By taking on both missions the pack is under a lot of pressure
    "Umm, we talked to some people who had seen him when we got back to L.A. We found a haven of his in North Hollywood and we found two of his ghouls. We tortured them for information and killed them when they led us to his Westwood condo. We must have missed hime by at least an hour. So we ransacked his place and found another address in Long Beach. We were planning that two of us would stay there and follow him if he came back. the other three would drive to the Long Beach address and do the same.
    "We were walking outside to our truck parked across the street when the bastard did a drive-by on our truck. We didn't know it was him until we started firing back at his Porche. We piled in and with two flats tires and a leaking fuel tank we chased him to downtown L.A. With a lucky shot he blew our truck up. We made it out with minor burns, but we somehow stumbled into and Anarch turf war! We barely made it out alive and it took us all a week to heal the damage.
    "We checked out his Long Beach place and found that he had already cleaned it out. So we got some info on the street that he was heading back down to San Diego. We got into San Diego two nights ago and we know exactly where his havens are. We also haven't made any contact with other Sabbat in the area, as were your instructions."
    "Fine. Remember I want him alive." He hung up.



    "That's her, she just went into that place called Moose's," said a man in a light gray- colored suit with a long coat.
    "You're right! Her aura looks to be the same as in the alley. Let us follow," added another man dressed i a black suit and carryinng a black cane with a blood-red ruby atop it.
    Esor Dybbuk and Adankeff Kutsoveno, a Malkavian and a Tremere respectively. They were both in the Free States area of L.A. trying to survive the scene when they had an unfortunate meeting with Rachel. Both are more or less members of the Camarila. Esor who looks to be in his late thirties, stands six feet and weighs a good 250 pounds, has Germanic features with a strong jaw line and short cut dark-blond hair. His humanity is often in question, but never his loyalty. He has been slowly trying to reacquaint himself with his quieter days in Chicago as a top surgeon, but at times he seems almost obsessed with power. Adankeff is almost six feet, looks to be in his mid forties, an has a sinewy frame. He hails from the outskirts of Translyvania and wears his black hair slicked back. He is trying to gain a power base for himself and his clan in L.A. His century of loyalty and service to his clan in the kine politics of the area was unquestioned by his elders, so they felt comfortable in sending him to L.A. two years ago. They are an unlikely pair, but somehow work well together.
    On the night in question they were both low on blood and out hunting when she attacked them. She attacked so quickly and unexpectedly that Adankeff was punched in the face and flew until the wall of the alley stopped his flight twenty feet away. She had her fangs in Esor and would have diablerized him to a husk if a twelve foot tall slathering Werewolf with recent scars hadn't jumped into the alley. She ran and the werewolf gave chase, she cut her leg on the edge of a dumpster and dropped Esor in the process. When Esor and Adankeff were in a safe place and slightly healed the agreed that if the werewolf didn't kill her they would. That happened less than a week ago.
    They entered the club and at first felt out of place because of their apparent ages. They then saw some men there who looked about their ages and were probably celebrating a bachelor party. They tried to join the group and blend in. Esor kept his eyes on her the whole time, while Adankeff scanned the room for any other potential threats. He spotted three locals who had paler than normal auras, but maybe it was just the lighting in the club or the occasional strobe light that threw him off. He looked again more carefully, now he was sure.
    The birthday girl and half of her etourage made their way to the club across the street. The others were going to join after they finished their drinks.
    "Let me see your ID, Running Elk. You don't look Indian," said the bouncer as he scrutinized Elk's license.
    "I'm half," he said as he angrily took his ID back and paid then woman at the door five dollars. Oscar barely had enough money, but paid his own way in. he was the last one in of this group.
    The club was packed. It was also big enough. There was a bar in front with booths nearby, a dance floor in the center with rised platforms on the sides, another bar in the back, and off to the left the cigar room and restrooms. It was dark save for the spinning lights, low lighing at the bars, and the four televisions on the walls showing random sports bloopers. Laura and the other girls made their way to the bar for her next drink. Elk and Karla found a table so they could wait for the rest of the group. Oscar made his way to the bathroom so he could dance in comfort. A couple of minutes passed and the whole group met at the table. They then proceeded to the dance floor.
    For most of the night they danced in a group. They also danced with the occasional stranger. Around twelve thirty Oscar started dancing with this attractive woman wearing a tank top and a tight miniskirt. She had smooth skin with a nice tan, dark seductive eyes, long black hair with reddish highlights, and without her shoes would be just over five feet tall. At first they danced at a friendly distance, then as the songs progressed she moved in closer until they were freaking each other. At the end of one song he leaned in and finally asked her name.
    Without him noticing Rachel quickly glanced down at her watch and noticed it was slowly approaching one o'clock.
    "Do you want to go some place quieter, so we can talk?"
    "Sure, just let me tell my ride."
    Oscar made his way over to Elk and shouted, "Hey I'm going to take a walk with that girl over there. If I'm not back in half an hour don't wait up for me. Here's the house key."
    He walked over to her, joined hands, and they made their way for the front door. They both got their hands stamped for reentry. Esor and Adankeff followed them out at a safe distance.
    "I can finally hear again. Do you want to walk on the beach?"
    "My favorite place."
    After a block and a half they reached the beach and headed south towards the pier.
    "Esor wait! She hasn't seen us yet, but I have this peculiar feeling that she is leading that kine into a trap."
    "I want her so bad, she must die. But damn it I think you're right, tonight would be bad. Her friends might be down there. Let's do it another night", whispered Esor to Adankeff as they made their way back to their car.
    Oscar danced off most of the the alchohol in the club, but was still feeling pleasantly groggy. When his feet hit the sand the ocean air resharpened his senses and his wits. He noticed that a person could easily hide in the shadows beneath the pier. They were twenty feet away. He slowed his pace to a stop.
    "I don't think it's too safe to walk under there. Maybe we should head north", Oscar said.
    "Naah, don't worry about it, I have you. We'll be safe."
    She flashed him a warm smile and led him by the hand under the pier. They just cleared the pier when they noticed that ten feet ahead of them Manuel and Jason stood. Rachel winked at them. They both pulled knives and Oscar and Rachel stopped.
    Jason roared, "Your money or your lives."
    Oscar reached into his front pocket and wallet and pulled out his last dollar bill. He then dropped it. It landed face up, half on his right foot and the other on the sand directly ahead of him.
    "That's all I got."
    They slowly moved forward. Oscar noticed by their eyes and body language that they were poised to attack regardless of the money. This suprised him and pissed him off. If he were alone he would have crippled them, stole their money for the trouble, and then made tracks back to his friends. But with a woman to potentially protect, counting on her instincts to run might get them both hurt or killed. Jason and Manuel were getting even closer. Oscar slowly spread his stance. Now! They were five feet away when Oscar simultaneously kicked some sand and the dollar in their faces, gave Rachel a hard push to the chest with his left hand, and shouted, "Run!"
    She didn't expect it and was pushed hard enough that he flung her into one of the pilons of the pier. She saw stars as the back of her head had hit and fell into unconsciousness. While Jason and Manuel were cursing and trying to rub the sand out of their eyes Oscar did a quick outside crescent kick, catching both of their knives and knocking them out of reach. He then turned to run and possibly catch up with Rachel, when he noticed that she was sitting against the pilon that knocked her out cold.
    Shit now I have to kill them! There's no chance that I can carry her and get away. Fuck!
    Jason recovered first and quickly shot his fist out at Oscar's head. Oscar even quicker parried the blow, grabbed Jason's wrist with the same hand, placed his other behind the guy's elbow, and spun him head first into the nearest pilon. Oscar heard and felt the head crack, and let Jason go as he started falling backwards.
    The split second that Oscar's head was turned Manuel launched himself onto his back and nearly knocked him to the ground. Struggling for his balance, and trying to escape Manuel's grip, Oscar noticed that Manuel's hands ended in very sharp claws. Oscar cut one of his fingers on them. Manuel leaned in to bite Oscar's neck. Oscar immediately stomped Manuel's forward foot under heel, threw his head back to break the guy's nose, and bent at the waist to throw him over his shoulder. Manuel fell a yard away face first into the sand.
    Oscar composed himself, half closed his eyes, and sunk into an active meditation. Manuel slowly got to his feet and Oscar noticed that his nose was quickly healing itself. Oscar's finger stopped bleeding. Manuel held his claws up poised for the next attack, but seemed to be holding back. The moon peaked through the clouds for half a second. Through his insight he sensed the presence of three others. He also noticed that the guy standing before him with the claws, wild hair, and leather attire was not breathing. With the moon obscured, it was again dark. Manuel's eyes were glowing an errie red and he looked very pissed. The waves were crashing rhythically on the shore, the water ten feet from them.
    Oscar broke the relative silence with a calm strong voice, "You other three might as well come out, I know you're there."
    Mike came out from the shadows of the pier with his right hand reaching into his trench coat for his sword. He was looking straight at Oscar and was smiling. Oscar was certain that he saw fangs, but kept his face passive and unconcerned. Oscar noticed movement behind him and to the right. He pivoted to keep them all in sight. Tina, who a moment before appeared to all as just another mound of seaweed, was standing straight up and approaching from the south. She was thirty feet away and appeared to be restraining, on very thick chains two extremely muscular war hungry Rotweilers. Mike thought to himself, other three?!? The man in the Fedora pulled himself deeper into the shadows, but Oscar could still feel his presence.
    Manuel had his claws at the ready. Mike had his sword in both hands and poised for attack. Tina was circling with her dogs around Oscar.
    "If you all leave now I'll let you live."
    Mike responded with a contemptuous laugh, "That's a good one, but we clearly outman you, boy!"
    "Believe what you will motherfucker."
    Mike quickly raised the katana above his head, sprang forward, and tried to split Oscar's head down the middle. Oscar deftly side-stepped to the left, shattered Mike's knee cap of his back leg with a lightening kick, and snatched the sword from his hands. Mike toppled over from his momentum, let out a loud cry of pain, and almost made it to his feet before Oscar cleaved his head off at the neck. Oscar quickly raised the katana to the ready position, turned around to make a clean stab into Manual's heart, and then pivoted to the right and slashed the nearest dog across the face. The dog began bleeding profusely on the wet sand.
    Manuel lost it. He roared like a wild cougar, lunged forward, and tried to bury his claws into Oscar's chest. Oscar shuffled back and parried the claws with the flat of his sword. Tina and the dogs were at his heels. With his right hand Manuel stabed for Oscar's eyes while he slashed with the other hand across Oscar's right upper arm. Oscar blocked the face attack, but was boxed in by Manuel and the dogs and so rolled with the side attack and avoided enough damage to keep his arm still attached. The slash wasn't too deep, but it burned like poison. Oscar did a well placed quick snap kick to Manuel's stomach and broke a couple of ribs, but it looked like the animal didn't feel a thing. The dogs were trying to bite his arms and legs. Oscar jumped away to his left and rolled on his good arm out of combat range and towards the ocean. He rolled to his feet and turned to face them as he was standing ankle deep in the water. The bleeding from his arm wasn't too bad, it would stop with a couple of bandaids.
    Tina and Maneul both ran over to him. Oscar slowed his breath and just then noticed something, two things actually. He noticed that those heavy dogs made no foot prints. He then went a little deeper. He could see them, hear them, feel them, and smell them, but he couldn't sense their chi. They're not really there. He smiled and knew that victory was close at hand. Oscar lowered the sword until it was slanting down towards the ground.
    Manuel licked his blood tipped claw, which Oscar could see had a small black crescent on the palm. Without warning, and claws extended he made another lunge for the sword master. Oscar made a small dip with the blade towards the sand, quickly stepped to his left, arced the sword up and through both of Manuel's arms, and smashed him in the back of the head with the butt of the sword as he flew past. Tina let loose one of the dogs and it jumped to bite at Oscar's neck. Oscar ignored it and the illusion passed right through him. He was waiting for Manuel to get up. He had landed in a tangle of seaweed in the water and was having a little trouble trying to get up with both arms severed at the elbows. Oscar waited until Manuel saw his face before cutting his head off. Tina started backing off still holding onto the illusion of the dog at her side. The dog was making a submissive posture towards Oscar. Oscar strode purposefully towards her ready to cut her down.
    "Can't we just talk this over? I mean look I'm walking away now."
    "Heh, you were ready and willing to kill me just a few seconds ago. None of you are human, so you'll get no mercy here. Prepare to die."
    She let the dog fade into nothingness and reached into her jacket and pulled out a gun. He wasn't close enough to dodge and disarm her so instead he did the unexpected. He threw the sword at her, aiming for her stomach. He missed, it sliced through her upper left thigh, knocking her down in the process. She dropped the .45 automatic. He rushed her and picked the sword up. He was about to cut her head off when she kicked him in the stomach with her good leg and got back to her feet. He was more shocked than hurt. He brought the sword back up to the ready position. She got up and continued to back away as he advanced. Without warning a gun slid out from uder her sleeve and into her right hand.
    Was it real or not? He wasn't willing to gamble. Time seemed to slow down as she pulled back the trigger, Oscar with a burst of strength and speed cut her in half at the waist. The gun went off and the bullet buried itself into one of the pilons. Jason sprung up to his feet. Tina was still alive, biting back tremendous pain, and her upper half was takng aim again. Oscar brought the sword up.
    Jason screamed, "Noooo!"
    The blade went through her neck. The gun never fired again. Rachel stirred. Jason ran over and Oscar turned to face him. Oscar was just about to stab him, when Jason was suddenly behind him faster than he could see. Jason landed a strong blow to Oscar's shoulder blade causing him to drop the sword. Oscar spun around just in time to block three out of the four punches Jason threw next. The last blow got through, but bounced harmlessly against Oscar's ribs. Jason was moving fast as lightening. Oscar was barely able to blocke the next onslaught. Jason looked like he was tiring, Oscar, due to some bloodloss, surely was. He wanted to end this quickly. Oscar did a shin kick to Jason's ribs and an axe kick with the other leg. Jason was slammed to the ground face in the sand. Oscar couldn't see her, but Rachel was quickly approaching from behind.
    Oscar recovered the sword and brought it up to take another head, as Jason rolled and got to his knees. Oscar slashed downwards and his back leg slipped on some seaweed. Instead of cutting off the head, he nearly cut off Jason's right arm. A couple layers of skin was all that still kept it attached. Jason grabbed his arm with his other hand and tried to hold it in place as he healed it back together while trying to crawl away. Oscar brought the sword up again and focused on the cut. He sensed movement behind him. Before he got five centimeters from Jason's neck a shadowy black tentacle shot out and plucked the sword from his hands. Another wrapped around his arms and another around his legs. Jason was on his feet oblivious to his near brush with final death. He rushed towards Oscar, who was struggling fruitlessly against his bonds, and bit Oscar on the neck and started drinking.
    Oscar was struggling the whole time, feeling violated by the forced bloodloss, but also a feeling of euphoria was creeping in. He was near death when Rachel pulled Jason off of him. Jason wanted to extinguish the worm.
    "Jason do you have any more body bags?"
    "Of course, this one was intended for who ever you brought back. Kill that asshole already or let me do it."
    Rachel held up her hand as a gesture to Jason to stop.
    "Ahh, I see the hole is ready. We didn't plan on this, but after tonight's bloody fiasco we need at least one new recruit. Such a fighter would make a welcomed addition to the Sabbat, don't you think? since you are obviously incapable I will embrace him. Club him when I tell you to. I really hope he makes it out."
    Oscar could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation. He kept fading in and out. He was very cold. The bonds weren't as tight, but he felt so weak that he couldn't lift a pencil if a gun were held to his head. Why don't they kill me yet? No! I must survive, I'm not ready to die. There is still too much to do! I am strong; my spirit is eternal. Rachel bit him and sucked out the last of the life's blood. She then slashed her wrist with a finger nail and forced the blood into his mouth. She's trying to poison me! With his last bit of strength he spat the foreign substance out. She leaned in close.
    "You fool, drink or you'll die!"
    His instincts told him that she was telling him the truth. He drank; his body went through its final convulsions and it died. He opened his eyes and could see the people on the other side who had died under this pier coming towards him. He blinked and he thought he heard them say 'we lost that one.' He opened his eyes again and felt a return from the edge of oblivion to the world of darkness. He felt his spirit was still there, but it was different. He felt a gnawing hunger as the blood spread through his system. The act of drinking it was both agony and ectasy. He could feel his new existance opening up before him. As the blood seeped further into his being he felt that he could tackle an entire NFL team. He lost control; he tried to drink deeper. Rachel pulled her arm away. He easily snapped the tentacle bonds.
    "Now," Rachel screamed!
    Jason smashed Oscar on the back of the head with a wooden plank. Oscar was out. Jason and Rachel put him in the bag and dragged his comatose body over to the other hole that Mike and Jason had dug. Jason pulled out a garbage bag, opened it, and from his damaged arm let the blood drop in. Rachel added her blood to the bag and tied it shut. Jason dropped the body in face down, tossed the bag in, and started kicking sand in.
    "What the fuck do you think you are doing!? We want him to dig himself out here, not China," Rachel yelled as she tried to stop Jason.
    "Don't worry, I know he'll make it out way before day break. Besides he deservesthat for what he did to my arm."
    Jason's predictions were something of a phenomenom, he never lied to Rachel about them. Rachel got the shovel and started filling the hole in.
    "We'll perform the ritae back at our place. Get a stake ready."
    An hour later the water had completely covered his grave. Rachel and Jason were standing at the water's edge. Rachel had changed back into her leather jacket, jeans, and boots. She and Jason were watching the spot impatiently.
    Where am I? I'm sandy and wet. Oh shit, I've been buried alive! NO, someone get me out of here! This can't be happening! Wait!?! Do I hear the ocean behind me? Those fuckers! They buried me upside down! Oscar started moving violently under his cement-like grave, gaining inch by inch. I'll kill them all, they can't escape me! Their blood, I'll suck them dry. I'll break their fucking necks and suck them both dry. I'll kill anything that fucking moves. He was at full frenzy. He kicked, punched, and bit his way out of the bag. He started eating the watery sand in an attempt to gain some room to move. He felt the strength of the earth moving through his appendages. He managed to turn over on to his back and he found and devoured the contents of the garbage bag. He felt the power surge in him again. Ten seconds later his right hand broke the surface.
    He felt his sandy bloody hand being washed clean by the ocean water. He clenched his hand into a fist, then continued his frenzied dig. Rachel and Jason saw his hand come up then go down again. They stepped into the water to get ready. Rachel had a wooden stake in her left hand. There was a couple walking on the beach near their activity. They noticed the thrashing in the water.
    "Excuse me, are you two fishing," said a young British wearing a Spring dress?
    Her boyfriend was a big man wearing a light jacket, dockers, and penny loafers. He was holding her hand and walked over to the water's edge. Rachel turned and looked him hard in the eyes.
    "Leave now!"
    As Rachel turned back around to view the water, Oscar burst out of the sand and water. He was a vision out of a nightmare; Shredded body bag about his waist, hair untied and wild, water dripping from his body, and wet, bloody sand oozing out of his nose and mouth.
    Oscar immediately smelt the fresh blood coursing through the vessels of the couple. He knew that he had to have it. He knocked Jason and Rachel down as he rushed past them to catch up to the fleeing couple. He grabbed the boyfriend by the shouler, spun the guy around, plunged his hand straight into the chest and pulled out the wildly pumping heart. He let the body go through convulsions and pushed it aside as he shoved the heart down his throat and tackled the woman to the ground. She tried to kick and punch, but he didn't feel a thing. He kept biting at her neck wildly until he found the cartroid. He started drinking and she relaxed and enjoyed the kiss. Oscar stood up and held her from behind as he fed off of her.
    Rachel and Jason ran over and got into position around Oscar. After he drained the body he dropped it and went over to the boyfriend to get what he could from the red hole on the left side of his chest. As he got down on his hands and knees to feed Rachel rushed up behind him and stabbed him in the back and through the heart. His mouth flew open in shock as he fell over immobilized.
    "Damn, look at the mess he left us," Rachel yelled as she kicked Oscar in the side.
    "Fuck it, let's just roll the bodies into the surf. The sharks have to feed too. Besides we should get out of here before any more fucking tourists decide to take a late night stroll," Jason said as he picked up the woman's body and started running to the waist deep water.
    Rachel kicked Oscar aside and picked up the man's body and joined Jason in the surf. They picked up Oscar's body and made their way to the van. The man with the Fedora followed them.



September 6, 1997


    It was an hour after sunset. The light burst on in the dank basement. Rachel and Jason were walking down the wooden stairs to the wet cement floor. She was dressed in a black body suit, a crimson windbreaker, and Birkenstocks with all nails painted a deep red. Jason came down wearing the same as the other evening except his arm and skull were fully healed. He was carrying a bucket in one hand and a large golden goblet the size of a bowl in the other. Oscar was laying on his back naked on a long wooden picnic table with the stake plunged through the front of his chest. He had sand all over and caked blood around the stake.
    Rachel walked over to the dryer, which was past a well used torturer's rack, and pulled out Oscar's clean pants, underwear, and socks. His bloody shirt with the hole in the back was in a nearby garbage can. His shoes were cleaned up and and by the stairs. Jason set the goblet down on top of the washing machine and started filling the bucket in the sink to its side. Jason then splashed the luke warm water on Oscar's sandy body. He went back to the sink and filled the bucket again and waited.
    "Oscar we know that you can hear us," Rachel said as she walked closer to the table.
    "That other night you killed three of our most trusted associates. It was supposed to be the other way around. Sometimes things don't go as planned and some would say to 'live and let live,' but you seriously fucked up our mission. You are now one of us, the chosen. You are a Vampire, a species above. Think of the possibilities. I'm going to take the stake out, but your actions will decide if it stays out. Jason go get that towel."
    Jason brought a dry fluffy green towel and the bucket. Rachel pulled the stake out and the hold remained. Oscar convulsed for a moment then sat bolt upright. and put both hands to his chest. He looked wide eyed at the wound and then concentrated on it. Blood rushed to the surface and the wound started closing up. He then folded his legs up and stared at Rachel. Rachel motioned for him to stand. With a dark scowl on his face he did, unconcerned for the moment with his nakedness.
    Jason poured the water on Oscar's head and Oscar brushed what sand he could out of his hair and off of his body. Jason then handed him the towel. He dried his hair first, dried the rest of his body, and wrapped the towel around his waist.
    "So where should I begin? You do know what you are right?"
    Oscar looked at her and said, "More or less, but you should probably tell me what I need to know."
    "Fine. You should be happy, you could possibly live forever. You just need to feed when the hunger gnaws at you. You can sustain yourself on any blood, but beside Vampire's, human's will fill you up the most. I will tell you more later if you prove yourself loyal. Jason the goblet."
    Jason picked up the goblet and handed it to Rachel. Rachel set the goblet down on the table, pulled out a silver knife, and cut into her wrist. Nearly a cup of her blood filled the goblet. She then licked her wrist to close the wound. She handed Jason the knife and he did the same. He also liked the blade and handed it to Oscar. They both watched him intensely to see if he might attack. He felt unsure of himself but decided to proceed with this ritual.
    Normally during the Creation Rites the new member is forced to drink the blood of his/her pack without adding his/her own, but Rachel and Jason decided that since they hadn't partaken in the Valdriere in so long they needed to share each others blood also and decided to break with tradition. Oscar cut into his own wrist and let drip his share into the goblet. He licked his wound and handed the knife hande first to Rachel. She used the knife to stir the mixture up and licked the knife clean.
    With all solemness she walked over to a cardboard box and pulled out two large black candles. She set them on the table on both sides of the bowl and lit them with a zippo. Jason went over to the switch and killed the lights. He then returned to the table.
    Rachel took off her windbreaker and said, "Oscar when you are accepted into the pack we will recite the Oath of Loyalty as usual before we take the blood, but for now just drink your share and pass it to the left."
    Oscar lifted the bowl to his lips, closed his eyes, and drank until about a third was gone. He handed the goblet to Jason. As his eyes were closed he was able to recognize the separate tastes of the blood. It was magnificent, fireworks went off in his head, it was better than sex. He felt drunk yet in control. He felt a warmth and started to feel an unnatural respect for the two in front of him, then suddenly with a burst of light he saw a vision. Before him he saw the sun in all its comforting glory, he felt a peace come over him. He was then standing at the bottom of the ocean watching millions of different fish swim by and the kelp gently swaying with the tide. He was chained to a pool of fire by his ankles. One of the chains was made out of the most beautiful roses, the other was a chain made out of pure shadow. He tried to touch the life around him, but when his hand made contact the life was extinguished. He tried to pull on the chains with his hands, but only cut himself on them. He felt a profound sadness. He looked into the giant pool of fish and saw a dolphin coming at him at full speed. At first he wanted to dodge, but then he felt the calm return. The dolphin had a golden aura around it. It went straight for the chains with its beak. It broke them and waited for Oscar. Oscar sensed that it needed to return to the surface. He intuitively risked a touch on the dolphin's fin and the dolphin pulled him full speed to the surface. He was now standing on the beach under a full moon with a pine and musky scent in the air. Within him he held the secret knowledge that no bonds could ever hold him. A crow flew past and cawed. He opened his eyes and smiled.
    Jason and Rachel were totally unaware of his unique experience. Jason had just finished his share and handed the goblet to Rachel. Jason felt a small sense of brotherhood with Oscar, and because they had shared the blood before he had a stronger vinculum with Rachel. She downed the rest, felt a similar comaradeship with Jason, and looked at Oscar.
    "How do you feel?"
    Oscar smiled at both Jason and Rachel. With a laugh he said, "My friends I feel great."
    "That Oscar is the Vauldriere. With our bonds the pack will be strong again. I am the priest and leader of this pack. I lead all the ritae. My word is not law, but without some order anarchy will destroy us. Now listen up, for what I tell you next is to be shared with none save other members of the Sabbat, under penalty of final death."
    Oscar lost the smile and looked seriously into her face. Jason took the goblet, wiped it clean, and headed upstairs.
    "Lights on or off?"
    Rachel turned around, "Leave them off."
    "I'll be back."
    She turned back around, put her windbreaker back on, and begun her lecture, "The Sabbat was set up to stop the dominion of the Antediluvians also known as the third generation of Vampires. They lie hidden about the world in deep sleep, influencing their minions and thralls with their mental powers preparing for Gehenna. The ancient texts say that on this night they will rise up to devour all below them in Generation and then battle each other for supreamacy."
    "In order to fight these ancients, together we must be strong. The Vauldriere makes us a strong fighting unit and breaks the ties that the scrupulous elders force on us. Our bond nulifies theirs and that makes them fear us for a pack is strength.
    "All Sabbat are in on pack or another and participate in the ritae to show their loyalty to the Sabbat. Failure to do so, and that one is suspected as a spy and watched very closely, sometimes killed outright. Packs are lead by a Ductus or pack leader. Ranked above them are Bishops, who usually manage a portion of a large city and direct lesser packs. Above them are the Archbishops, they control the city and are usually thought of in high regard. The Inner Circle is our directing body and is composed of Prisci, who usually watch out for their respective clans, Cardinals who watch over areas the size of countries or continents, and the Regent who oversees the whole world until the coming of Caine.
    "We dont' follow their orders blindly, most of them have proven themselves loyal to the sect and were entrusted with their positions. An important truth that is not shared by our enemies of the Camarilla is that; All Sabbat are equal before the whole of the Sabbat."
    "So what are the clans and what is the Camarilla?"
    "First things first the Biblical Caine was the first Vampire. There is plenty of lore about him, the why's the how's and the where, but let me skip ahead to stuff a little more pertenint in these nights. Fragments from the Book of Nod that I have seen have said that he sired 3 or 4 they are called the second generation, very few if any know their names. They in turn sired the third generation which number thirteen. These thirteen are the clan founders. Their personalities and the way they developed their individual disciplines or powers have been passed down to us through the blood.
    "I'll go through them really quick, because you are going to need to know your enemies. First are the Assamite, they are known as the best assassins in the world and take their payments in blood, you should never cheat them. Next are the Brujah, mostly known as Anarchs, some of them fight actively against the oppression of the Camarilla, but the ones you should trust are the ones that fight for the Sabbat. They don't hold great power among either group, but they do have their hands in organized crime and regular street gangs.
    "You are a little bit familiar with the Gangrel. They are evolution in reverse. They don't usually run well with packs, but are easy to manipulate none the less. Manuel, the guy with the claws that you killed was one of them.
    "Another clan is the Giovanni; they make deals with the ghosts and are said to know a great deal of their world. They have a very secure international transportation system and they serve neither sect.
    The Malkavians are a clan full of insane Vampires, some more than others. It's hard to be around one, you never know what they are going to do next.
    "The Nosferatu are known as the best information brokers among us and usually are very trustworthy, but they are the most hideous among us. If you treat them with respect they are likely to do the same for you.
    "Next up are the Ravanos. They are masters of illusion and thieves to the last. Those outside our sect are from gypsy stock. Their clan is also neutral, but some have joined our cause."
    Oscar perked up, "The last one I killed was one of them, right?"
    "Tina was her name. I miss her, but from your perspective you did the right thing in ignoring her powers. Some can make you believe that you are in a whole different world and then they really fuck you up.
    "Speaking of fucked up clans; there is a clan known as the Followers of Set. Their philosophical bend is towards corrupting all of those around them. Try not to socialize with them, just kill on site. Except... no I'll tell you about that later. They are also not a part of the Camarilla, and some calling themselves Serpents of the Light have joined our sect.
    "The artists among us are called the Toreador. Some actually make the most awe inspiring art that truely deserves to be immortalized. Others like Jason's tend to make the most macrabe, notice the rack.
    "I know that this seems like a long diatatribe, but you need to know this. Members of clan Tremere were once mortal mages, until they gave up their art to become one of the damned. Some say they serve the Camarilla, but with their extensive use of blood bonds to their elders they really serve Tremere. They always have plans within plans within plans. Don't let them do you any 'favors.' Then there are the Tzimisce."
    She started playing with her necklace, "They have their uses. They were one of the founders of the Sabbat. Their homeland is in the Carpathian Mountains, a place once know as Transylvania. They are quite alien in both mannerisms and appearance. They can hold serious grudges for centuries, so kill them quick if you somehow manage to piss one off.
    "And finally there are the Ventrue. The guy that you took the sword from was one from that clan. They are the so-called leaders of the Camarilla. They come from mostly the upper-class and act mostly like nobles in title only."
    Oscar held out his hands and started counting, "Wait a second. Assamite, Brujah, Gangrel, Giovanni, Malkavians, Nosferatu, Ravanos, Followers of Set, Toreador, Tremere, Tzimisce, and um Ventrue, that only comes to twelve! Which clan is ours?"
    "Very astute of you, why my childe we are of the clan Lasombra. If the vampire is the nobility among mortals, then we are the rulers of our kind. We are simply the best, not just because we have noble blood like the Ventrue, but because we have a greater driving purpose freedom from the Antediluvians. We are not arrogant braggarts, we have already slew our founder. We have bound together the unorganized Anarchs and founded the Sabbat!
    "The Camarilla are the slaves to the Antediluvians. They are made up of primarily the Brujah, Gangrel, Malkavians, Toreador, Tremere, and Ventrue. Those weaklings pathetically cling to their past humanity. They are vampires only in name, but don't live like it! Some within those clans have wisely chosen to join the Sabbat; they are referred to by all as antitribu. But beware of the Lasombra and Tzimisce antitribu, they have made themselves enemies to the Sabbat.
    "The Camarilla itself holds to six restrictive rules which they call the Traditions. They are: one, the Masquerade; which states that none should reveal themselves to mortals, not the worst of their traditions. The second is Domain, one is supposed to respect another's hunting ground, this rule is rarely followed by any of them. The third is at the core of the Antediluvian's control, the tradition of Progeny. It says that you can only create childer with your elder's permission. The fourth is of Accounting; one is to take responsibility for one's childe until they are presented to the Prince and released. The fifth is Hospitality; they have rulers of their cities called Princes and supposedly all Vampires are to tell him or her that you are in their city. This is just another way for them to keep an eye on you. Their sixth rule is referred to as Destruction. Basically one is not supposed to kill other 'Kindred' without permission. If one is killed the Prince has the right to order your destruction with a Blood Hunt.
    "You should know those rules because San Diego is at present a Camarilla held city, we should not reveal to them who we really are. We've been in this town for four months. We've run into some of the Cammies, but haven't had enough time to scout the whole city. But enough of that crap. The rules you will live by are called the Code of Milan, actually a version of it is written on that parchment on the wall over there."
    It reads:

        I. The Sabbat shall unite behind the Regent. The Regent shall grant all Sabbat freedom.

        II. All Sabbat should serve their leaders.

        III. All Sabbat shall faithfully observe the Auctoritas Ritae.

        IV. All Sabbat shall keep their word of honor to each other.

        V. All Sabbat shall treat their peers fairly and equally, upholding the strength and unity of the Sabbat.

        VI. The Good of the Sect should be placed before the self.

        VII. Those that don't follow the Code are unworthy of assistance.

        VII. All shall follow this Justice or suffer the Lexitonis.

        IX. All Sabbat shall protect one another from enemies of the Sect.

        X. Protect Sabbat territory from all other Powers.

        XI. Uphold the Spirit of Freedom.

        XII. All have the Rights to Monomacy.

        XIII. All Sabbat shall support the Black Hand.

        XIV. Members have the right to monitor others of the Sect to maintain freedom and security.

        XV. All Sabbat shall act against Sect members who use the powers and authority the Sabbat has given them for personal gain at the expense of the Sabbat. Punishment decided by a council of Prisci.

    Oscar slowly and quietly recited the list and then looked over to Rachel.
    She smiled and asked, "Any questions?"
    "Yes. What is monomacy and what is the Black Hand?"
    "Monomacy is dueling. Let's assume you have a disagreement with someone and talking is out of the question. You have the right to challenge him or her to a duel. The duel could be to the death, where the victor gets to drink the blood dry of the loser, or to submission. The challenged has the right to refuse the duel, but they better watch their backs because "accidents" have been known to happen. It is also a way to rid onesself of ineffective leaders. But like any tool it should not be overused.
    "The Black Hand, now that's a difficult one. They are like a sect within our sect. They follow our code and are some of the best assassins and heavy hitters in the world. It is safe to say that they are mostly made up of Assimite antitribu. They help us lay siege on Camarilla held cities. They are like our secret police. You can't join them, they can only ask you to join. I'm not too certain of their true motives. None are allowed in our Inner Council, but who knows, they may have infiltrated that too. Basically if they ask you to do something its probably in the Sabbat's best interest. Now get dressed.
    "Let's see, what else should I tell you? Ah yes, this is very important. I am this pack's ductus and priest. And Jason is our Abbot, a minor title really but his job is to keep our haven in working order. You are also not Tru Sabbat yet. That means that until you prove yourself to us, you will not be treated with equal repect and you will be expected to follow our orders to the letter."
    Jason came down the stairs with a clean gray t-shirt and a leather jacket. He handed them to Oscar who put on the new clothes. Jason handed him a blindfold.
    "Put it on."
    Oscar put the blindfold over his eyes and stood in a defensive position.
    Jason moved slowly closer, "Until we know that you're not a security risk you'll wear that when we leave this house. Don't take it off until I tell you. Tonight we are going to play a couple of games and see if you're worthy to run with our pack, the Dragon's Maw."
    Rachel handed Oscar his wallet, which he quickly put in his pocket, and she held his hand. She escorted him up the stairs. Jason blew out the candles and followed them up. They left the house in an old brown Dodge van. They turned onto a busy street and a couple of minutes later pulled into a Vons parking lot.
    "We're here, you can take it off now."
    Oscar took off his blindfold and looked around. He moved up to the passenger's seat and looked out the front window. The parking lot was relatively crowded and dimly lit with the sodium lights up above and with shoppers going to and from their cars. He followed Jason's gaze to a police cruiser on the far side of the lot.
    Rachel poked Oscar in the ribs, "We're going to play cops and robbers. But first we'll need a couple of props. You and I will be the 'bad guys' and Jason gets to be the cop."
    "What are we going to do?"
    Rachel handed him a .38 revolver and said, "After we get Jason a proper uniform and car we are going to hold up a convenience store. He gets to try and stop us if he can. We have a couple of rules though. No shooting each other in the head, it just gets too messy. And you can call a time out if you need to feed. Sit tight I'll be right back."
    She got out of the van and started sauntering over to the police cruiser. Oscar felt the weight of the gun in his hand and wedged it in his pants at the small of his back. Jason started stripping down to his underwear. He was wearing a tank top and boxers. On his left shoulder, all in black, was a tattoo of the head and wide open jaws of an angry horned dragon. He noticed Oscar's eyes and said it was their pack symbol.
    The police man looked to be in his late 20's and well fit. He was white with a blond mustache and straight light brown hair. He took off his mirrored shades as Rachel got closer, he had dark friendly eyes. He was totally engrossed with the way she walked over to him.
    She bent at the waist, jutting her curvaceous butt out in the process and whispered, "Excuse me, my van over there just got a flat. I was wondering if you could help me fix it?"
    "Uh, I'd like to help ma'am, but I'm on duty right now. I can call you a tow truck if you need it."
    Her smile faded into a frown and her eyes bored into his, "Fine! Let's try something different. Get out of your car and hand me your keys."
    He pulled the keys out of the ignition, got out of the car, and handed her the keys.
    "Now you will follow me back to that van and undress once you get inside it."
    They walked back to the van. Jason slid the door open and the cop got inside and started undressing. Rachel got in behind him and closed the door. As soon as he was naked she told him to go to sleep and Oscar helped her tie him up with a double Dutch jump rope. Jason got dressed in the blues and adjusted his gun. He got the keys from Rachel and made his way over to his new car.
    "I'll start following you two as soon as you get a throw away car."
    "Oscar grab those ski masks under the seat and hand me that magnum. And lock the door behind you. I'm going to teach you how to use one of our clan's natural powers. It's one of the easier ones to teach, but mastering it takes some time. It's one of the reasons why our clan rules, but don't depend on it too much because it's much better to rule by fear and example. Also, if you try to use it on one of our kind be warned, one can only Dominate those of the same or lesser generations. So if you tried it on Jason or me you would be wasting your breath and probably get your ass kicked for the trouble."
    They got out of the van and locked the doors. Oscar put the ski masks in the pockets of his jacket. Rachel put her gun in the pocket of her windbreaker. They started walking along the sidewalk looking for someone going to their car.
    "It's real easy to do. First you must consciously tell yourself that your will is the only one that matters and that your word is to be unquestionably obeyed. It is important that you believe this or you are powerless. Your blood is your power. Second you have to make eye contact with your subject. Then give them a simple command. If you tell someone to kill themselves or a friend, then chances are that they might not do it, unless you are very powerful and experienced using the discipline. At first try to keep to one word commands, then when you really grow in power you can get more specific. You can even reconstruct their memories, but that is for later. Oh here's your chance, tell that guy to do something.
    A college frat boy wearing his letters, dress pants, and his UCSD hat backwards just got out of his brand new red Mazda Miata. Oscar prepared his mind and stepped right in front of the guy as he was locking his door. The frat boy looked suprised and pissed to see someone that close to his car. Rachel stepped into a shadowy alcove and drew the shadows around her. Oscar made eye contact.
    In a forceful voice Oscar said, "SIT!"
    The frat guy immediatly sat in some spilled oil on the pavement where he was standing.
    "STAND!"
    The frat guy got to his feet just a quickly and stood at attention.
    This is easy
    He decided to give more commands, "Sit, roll over, get up. Kiss your car. Key your name into the car."
    The frat guy obeyed all of his commands to the letter. While he was carving 'ROGER G-' into the door, Oscar walked over to where Rachel was, laughed, and called back to the confused frat guy, "You obey your older brothers well, don't worry the frat will pay for your door."
    Rachel stepped out of the shadows, "very good."
    Oscar smiled and asked, "should we take his car now?"
    "No that car is too flashy, it will draw too much attention. Tell him to go to the store and let's find a suitable car."
    Oscar told the guy to give him all of his money, go into the grocery store, sit in the cereal section, and down a six pack of Coors. The guy pulled out his wallet and gave Oscar thirty dollars and walked off towards the store. Oscar put the money in his wallet and followed Rachel who was walking behind an elderly woman. She was pushing a loaded grocery cart to her dark blue four-door Ford Caprice. Oscar noticed that Rachel's shadow grew longer, darker, and bigger than was natural. The woman opend the trunk and started putting a gallon of bottled water in.
    The shadow loomed over the woman and she turned around as it covered her entire field of view. Oscar who was only a couple of feet behind Rachel, could only see a big shadow in front of him. Rachel grabbed the woman's shoulder and punched her square in the face. The wowan died instantly as her nose was pushed up into her brain. Rachel threw the old woman into the trunk and took the keys from her lifeless hands. She licked the blood off her hand, closed the trunk, and the shadow around her slowly crawled back to natural proportions. Oscar pushed the basket off to the side and then got in on the passengers side. Rachel casually pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main drive. Jason followed in his police cruiser.
    "So when are you going to teach me how to do that shadown thing?"
    "Maybe later tonight when we get back to the place. Give me my mask."
    "How are we going to do this? What about the camaras?"
    She laughed, "Don't worry about the camaras, we won't even show up on them. What you are going to do is to make sure that no customers try to play hero or try to leave. I'm going to take care of the clerk. Your next worry is Jason."
    Rachel saw an AM PM on the other side of the street. Through the poster covered windows she saw a young white woman with blond hair and a long dress, a taller Korean man in shorts and t-shirt standing in line behind her, and one skinny Chicano with baggy jeans and a dress shirt getting a slurpy. The clerk was a friendly older Iranian man with a thin mustache. Three cars were stopped by the gas pumps. Rachel stopped and waited for the arrow to turn green. She put her gun on her lap and flipped the safety. Oscar got his gun out too. Half-way through the u-turn she and Oscar put their masks on. She gunned the engine, turned into the gas station, and came to a screeching halt in front of the convenience store.
    Oscar jumped out with gun in hand and burst through the glass doors yelling, "Nobody move, nobody gets hurt!"
    Rachel came in after with her gun in hand and held it up to the clerk's face, "Pop the drawer now!"
    In slightly accented English, "Yes, right away."
    Oscar motioned with his gun for the two in line to move, "Get over by the drink dispensers and get down on the ground!"
    They both moved over to where the other man was. He put his drink down on the counter and got face down on the floor. The others did the same. Oscar kept them pinned down with his gun and looked out the window to see if Jason was coming. The clerk opened the cash register and looked at Rachel. Rachel noticed the screens behind the counter and shot one of the cameras near the door. All of the hostages shrieked.
    "Hand me the drawer."
    The clerk pulled the drawer out and put it on the counter. Rachel grabbed for the tens, fives, and ones. A police cruiser pulled up behind Rachel's car with lights and sirens. Jason got out with the shotgun and stood on the driver's side by the hood.
    "Drop your guns and come out with your hands up!"
    Rachel shot at Jason through the glass door. The bullet shattered one door and hit one of the lights on top of the cruiser. Jason slid across the hood and shot at Rachel's stomach. The slug knocked her off her feet. and into the candy section. The clerk ducked behind the counter. Oscar rushed behind the counter to where Rachel was and fired at Jason's chest. He ignored the hit and shot Oscar in the right side of the chest. The impact threw him on top of Rachel. He had never been shot before. The bullet felt like someone pushed a large hot metal poker in his side and left it there. Rachel whispered in his ear to sit still. She also told him to wait.
    Jason stepped into the store and had his shotgun trained on the ski-masked bandits and asked, "Is anyone hurt?"
    The people on the floor slowly got to their feet and and started nodding their heads in the negative. Oscar and Rachel sprung to their feet, took aim, and shot Jason in both legs. Jason fell forward and fired his gun at the clerk. The clerk's right arm was mangled by the shot and he fell behind the counter. Rachel and Oscar shot Jason in the back as they ran over him and out the door. The clerk's scream changed into an animal's howl as Rachel put the car in gear.
    The nine foot tall dark red colored werewolf/clerk stepped over the counter and accidently on the downed Jason. It's uniform was torn to shreds and hanging loosely about him. The customers had very different reactions to the Delirium. The Korean man fell to the floor in the fetal position, the Chicano jumped through the window above the drink machine and kept on running, and the woman stood there with a curious smile on her face. The clerk ran through the double doors and tore them both off in the process. He let out a deep battle howl and chased after the criminal's car. He clenched his fist as his arm wound had closed up.
    The Ford had only traveled 100 feet from the gas station when the werewolf/clerk grabbed the back end and halted their forward progress.
    "What the fuck is that", Oscar yelled.
    "Dead meat! Come on." Rachel and Oscar got out of the car.
    The Werewolf dropped the Ford and got ready to attack. Rachel shot him in the leg and chest. The clerk fell to his knee and let out a cry of pain. Rachel ran up to the werewolf whose face was now at her level and pointed her gun at the animal's head. She squeezed the trigger, 'click', she was out of bullets. The clerk looked her in the eyes and his growl definitely sounded like a chuckle.
    Using his good leg the monster launched himself at Rachel and slammed her to the ground. She tried to pistol whip him, but her arms were pinned. His leg and chest were healing quickly as he stood up and grabbed Rachel by the legs. He faced her away from him and lifted her like a doll into the air and slammed her face first into the hood of the car. He definitely felt some of her bones crack with the impact.
    Wait don't kill her yet I still need to learn things from her. Oscar pulled off his mask and jumped over the cab and onto the monster's back. He immediately sunk his fangs into its neck. The Garou flailed about trying to get the man off his back. He dropped Rachel. The clerk started to slow and he wearily dropped to his hands and knees. Oscar drank deeply of the blood and was full, but the monster had so much more. He slid off the monster's back and his mind was racing from the potent blood, it was like he drank a Jolt soda or injected himself with pure adrenaline.
    The clerk took notice of Oscar's moment of confusion, grabbed him by the chest and threw him across the street. Oscar crashed through the window of a small flower shop and the alarm went off. The clerk noticed that Rachel was starting to move again and that Oscar was getting up and running across the street. The clerk's lost blood was slowly replenishing itself and his strength was returning, but he wasn't prepared to fight vampires without a pack. His best bet was to escape. The towering werewolf started staring intently at his reflection in the side mirror of the Ford.
    Jason got off the floor and noticed the woman standing there with a stupid smile on her face and the main still curled up on the floor.
    "Did you see that? Bigfoot just ran out of here to chase those two theives", the blond said as Jason walked over to her.
    "That fucking mutt stepped on my back. I hate werewolves", Jason said before he bit her in the neck and drained her to the last drop. He licked the wound closed. He went over to the man on the floor and drank a little from him until his wounds were completely healed. The man stopped cowering, relaxed, and started snoring. Jason took a couple paces back from the woman's body and shot her in the head with his revolver. He ran outside and got in his car.
    Rachel was up and Oscar was about to jump kick the monster when its concentration paid off. The hulking mass of the clerk seemed to flow like a liquid into the tiny mirror until he disappeared without a trace. Rachel and Oscar looked at each other in surprise.
    Over the alarm of the flower shop Oscar and Rachel could hear sirens coming from the opposite direction.
    "Shit someone muhst have called the real police", Rachel whispered as she set her jaw back in place.
    Oscar's eyes were burning from the werewolf's blood, "So I take it that this wasn't part of our plan?"
    Jason pulled up to their car and smiled, "Get in the game's over. We'll have to play another night."
    Oscar and Rachel got in the back. Jason got out and shot the back tires of the Ford. He put his gun away and signaled for one of the approaching police cruisers. The other two sped on to the AM/PM. The officer of the approaching car was an overweight balding fellow with a thick grey speckled mustache. He slowed to a stop when he noticed that Jason was at ease. He rolled down his window and shined his spot light on the unmasked prisoners in the back.
    "So, what do we got here?"
    "I got these two, but the third got away with a hostage."
    "Is your radio busted, why didn't you call for back-up?"
    "It happened way too fast. They pulled their guns on me after I was already in the building. I'm going to take these two in." Jason started to get back in his cruiser.
    "Hey wait!"
    "Oh yeah, I almost forgot the other suspect is a skinny Latino male late teens, about five-eight, 120 pounds, wearing baggy black slacks, and a grey dress shirt. He jumped through the window when these two started running. I think that he is still in the neighborhood. He may be armed."
    "But who are you?"
    Jason turned on his charm, "Don't you remember our kids play baseball together? I'm Jerry Ray Sunshine."
    The officer was confused. He was sure that he had never mt this guy in his entire life. He was about to pull his gun on the fake cop, then he looked into Jason's eyes and his gut feeling of suspicion was replaced with total reverence for that nice officer named Jerry Ray Sunshine.
    "Oh I'm sorry. It's been a long night. And I really couldn't see you in this poor light. How's your boy doing?"
    Rachel got out of the back of the car and looked into the cop's eyes, "We don't have time for this! Jason you left too many loose ends. Listen Officer Bob or whatever your name is, there was only one suspect in this case and ahem 'Jerry Ray Sunshine' already gave you the description. After we leave, you will forget all of our faces. If anyone asks why you stopped for our car you tell them that it was totally unrealated. Do you understand?"
    "Yes."
    "Now go and join the rest of those police."
    Officer Bob drove the rest of the way down the street to the AM/PM, never looking back. Rachel got back into the police car. They drove back to their van, dressed the sleeping cop, and made the drive home in their van.


***     Alhafsa parked his Benz across from Crown Books and took the stairs to the mall doors. He had shaved his mustache, was wearing blue jeans, a Charger's sweater, and steal tipped boots. In his left hand he had his metal briefcase. He heard loud music coming from the bar and could hear some people down below waiting for their movie. He walked down the wide hall on a light gren carpet and entered the Sports City Bar & Grill. The doors were open and he saw a long L-shaped bar in the front. To his left there was a small room open to the bar with three pool tables and stick racks. Two younger guys were drinking and playing on the center table. Straight ahead past the bar were ten moveable square tables in a pattern and a wall surrounding the lowered area. The booths around the walls near the bar had small television screens above the tables conveniently located in the wall. In between them along the walls were glass cases containing various sports paraphenilia, like old Raider's helmets, baseball mitts, bowling trophies, and sweaters, and hats from the nearby colleges. There were bigger screens over the bar and in the dining area. The place was half filled with a mixed aged crowd. Alhafsa made his way to an empty booth and sat.
    It was eight twenty, so he was ten minutes early. He changed the channel at his booth to CNN. A fair haired beauty of a waitress came up to him and handed him a menu.
    "Hi, would you like something to drink while you look over the menu?"
    He handed the menu back to her, I'm not really hungry. Could you just get me a rusty nail?"
    "Right away."
    Ten minutes later on the dot Alhafsa saw Lena Phelps, one of Armstrong's ghouls and great-great-granddaughter, enter the bar. She was unbelievably tall, had long black hair, a nice body, and sparkling green eyes. Alhafsa signaled her over. As she walked by the bar, all the heads turned. She gave him a hug and sat down opposite of him.
    He pushed his untouched drink in front of her, "So, where is he?"
    "He's waiting in the parking garage by the theater. He thought it best for you two not to be seen in public together. He asked me to bring you down as soon as I got here", she started to stand.
    "Why don't you finish this drink first?"
    "I'm the chauffeur this evening. But I guess one drink won't hurt", she downed it and started heading with him out of the bar.
    Alhafsa passed by his waitress and gave her a twenty for his drink. She thanked him for the tip as he walked out the door with Lena on his arm. They went down the escalator and out past the arcade to the parking garage. She opened the door to a black streched limo and Alhafsa stepped in. Lena sat down at the drivers seat and started heading out of the dark garage. The window seperating the driver and the passengers went up.
    On the back seat sitting on the right side with a red glass in his hand was John Armstrong. He turned the television off and lowered the lights to a more cozy feel. John was a tall English man in his late forties with broad shoulders and a pleasant smile. His hair was slightly graying on the sides, but the rest was light brown which he wore in a short conservative cut. His eyes were grey and his skin was very pale. He wore a finely cut charcoal colored Nieman Marcus sports jacket and pants with dark brown alligator shoes. His necktie had the mascot for the Aztecs on it and his handkerchief matched. He has lived in Del Mar for the past thirty years; somehow being able to outlive the "Anarch Occupation" as he referred to it. He is once again the Ventrue Primorgen of the city. He was part of the Camarilla force that kicked the Anarchs out four months ago.
    "Albert, I'm glad you could make it. I'm sorry that I didn't meet you in the bar, but I think that Larry Donovan has some of his people following me. Would you like something to drink it's very fresh?"
    "No thank you, I fed well earlier this evening. But are you sure that Loud Larry has some people out for you?"
    "Well, you remember the last council meeting. I kind of slighted him by giving him such lousy tickets to last week's game. You know how easy it is to piss off those Brujah. Any way the whole week I've been having more than my fair share of run-ins with the police. I think that he has at least eight ghouled to him. I would tell Melanie, but I don't have enough proof."
    "Eight! I thought that one of her rules was a limit of three for all Primorgen and only if permission was given. She doesn't even have three herself! Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? We can finally hold something over him."
    "At first I thought that the run-ins were just carlessness on my part, but I've changed cars four times this week and we're still being followed. You want to bring him down? Is that because he voted against you becoming the Toreador Primorgen? What about that nut 'Jenny Jones' or that damn Tremere Gonzales?"
    "As near as I can tell Gonzales was voting for his clan's best interest. Although I don't like him that much either, I do respect his motive. 'Jenny Jones' or Gary voted against me to follow some crazy pattern in his Malkavian head. But Larry, he voted against me out of spite. He knew that I had Melanie's ear and he lied when he said that he didn't see me fighting against the Anarchs along with everybody else."
    John downed his cup and filled another, "But didn't Melanie also vote against you? I mean you guys are the same clan, why aren't you pissed at her?"
    "She did what any weak Prince would have done, bow to the council over the clan. I can't totally complain, she did give me first pick over the territory. But you know that with San Diego being so big an area to lord over, another Primorgen is desperately needed."
    The Ventrue nodded his head, "Howard Levong voted for you though. I generally got the feeling that the Nosferatu and Toreador don't mix well. Also Tru Vang nearly jumped out of her chair to vote for you. I voted for you too, but that's just because I know that San Diego is too big to have just six Primorgen. I mean, we have the Sabbat to the South, Werewolves to the East in the desert, and Anarchs just up the road. If you don't mind me asking, what did you do to secure their votes?"
    Alhafsa leaned back in his seat and started opening his briefcase, "Nothing out of the ordinary I assure you. You can even ask them yourself. I helped Howard secure the Northern border. Towards the end of the reconquest while everyone was celebrating in the Gas Lamp district, Howard and I convinced the Highway Patrol to stop some of the Anarch's southbound reinforcements. Howard, two of his childer, and I took on six of them as they were coming in half an hour before daybreak. Only one got away, but in all the chaos Howard got seperated from the main skirmish and was staked out for the sun. I saw him in the middle of a nearby field. And one of his childer, Chris I think his name was, ran out to get him. Well, Chris saw the sun and lost it. I ran out of my car and risked a sunburn to run and throw Howard in the back of my car. It was too late for Chris.
    "For Tru Vang, while I was fighting in th downtown are, I jumped in front of a bullet that would have destroyed her battle weary childe. I think that they were lovers before their embrace."
    John rolled down the window between the driver and passengers, "Lena could you get on the five and take us to Hotel Circle Drive?"
    "Sure thing boss."
    He rolled the window back up, "So how do we proceed?"
    Alhafsa pulled a manila folder titled "Stadium Plans" out of his briefcase. "First let me give you this. I have done a little research and found some interesting alternative sites. If you look at the first diagr..."
    "Wait! The stadium can wait. What should we do about Larry?"
    "Calm down, it's all related. You may not like the second part, but trust me it'll work. First we call in some favors from Tru. With some of her news people we could have her start looking into those ghouls that Loud Larry has. When she has them all identified you then cut Gonzales in on your stadium plans."
    Armstrong dropped his empty glass, "What, are you mad?"
    "Please let me finish. You let Gonzales in on one of the alternative sites closer to his territory in exchange for him doing the blood work to confirm that the ghouls are Larry's."
    Armstrong slowly smiled, "Oh I get. Once we have the facts established we set Larry up for a violation of the Masquerade, tell the Prince about his extra ghouls, and get him thrown off of the council making room for you. And once your in we'll effectively rule the council."
    "That's the plan. Here let me show you the other sites."



* * *     Jason pushed the button for the garage door and drove on in. The three got out and headed for the house. As the door started closing the man in the trench coat rolled into the garage unseen. He followed the group until they went down into the basement. Jason closed and locked the doors behind him.
    "Oscar I think you might be ready to join our pack. What do you think Jason?"
    "I don't know. I question his loyalty. Why didn't he drain that walking carpet when he had the chance? I don't know if he is even up to our standards."
    "Hey fuck you! You weren't there. No one told me how their blood would fuck with my head!"
    Oscar was quickly losing his patience. He was going to kill Jason where he stood for essentially calling him a pussy. The Werewolf's blood was pushing him closer towards a frezied state. The same state that let him out of his watery grave and the same that forced him to kill the couple on the beach without reservation. He could barely control himself.
    "Stop it both of you. Oscar calm down. Jason go upstairs until I call for you. We don't have enough people for this."
    Never turning his back on Oscar Jason slowly made his way up the stairs and out the door. When he closed it Oscar shifted his murderous stare towards Rachel.
    "Control yourself. You need to loose some of that wolf blood. I will teach you how to control the shadows, now."
    "I'm in no mood to learn."
    "Direct the Beast don' let it control you. You have to learn how to ride it like a wave. If you can't control yourself you can't gain the power to smash your true enemies, you will be worthless to us."
    Oscar looked at her hard, he clenched his fists, and then folded his arms across his chest.
    In a strugling voice he said, "Alright teach me!"
    Rachel relaxed a little, lit one of the candles, and turned off the lights, "Watch my hand's shadow."
    Without moving her own fingers the shadow clenched into a fist. She then made it flip Oscar off and then gave him a high five that passed through his hand. He smiled. Oscar was slowly learning how to control his killer instinct.
    "Now you try. Concentrate on the blood and concentrate on the possible movement of the shadow."
    Oscar held his left hand up and spread his fingers. He forced his blood and concentration into manipulating the shadow. His shadow fingers started to grow longer. He got used to the concentration and then varied their lenghts. He then slowly started making all the hand gestures that he knew of. He gave himself five. Rachel looked on with approval for her student.
    "Faster!"
    Oscar help up both hands before the candle's light and forced the shadows to smash through each other and picked up speed in changing their position and appearance. He then turned his back from the flame and made his shoulder and arm shadows grow to unreasonable proportions. He made devil horns from the shadow of his hair. He then faced Rachel with a smile.
    "What's next?"
    "Light the other candle and I'll show you."
    Oscar lit the other candle and stood back. Rachel expanded the shadow behind her to a shapeless blob. It darkend to pitch black as she let it crawl around her body like a dense fog. She then extended it around Oscar. He couldn't feel any different tactile sensation, but he couldn't see a thing and he couldn't hear as well. She moved the shroud off of him and waited. He looked and nodded. She then moved the shadow over the candle. The flame started to waver. She let the shround drop on the flame like a wet blanket. The candle went out. She dispersed the shadow and relit the candle.
    "Now it's your turn."
    He went through the same motions, b ut couldn't douse the flame as quickly. He then extended the shadow in all directions as far as it would go. He felt that he could expand it out to a fifty foot diameter sphere around him before the shadow's outer edge faded considerably. The rage was still with him, but it was enjoying the games that would lead to its future survival as a hunter. He looked to Rachel for his next lesson.
    "You should be quite familiar with this next one. As I recall it was the only thing that stopped you from cutting Jason's head off. This one is a little deeper to fathom. The power that the Lasombra have learned to control comes from the Abyss. As I understand it it is another plane of existance. It is kind of like Hell where people would fear it, but it is also like limbo so no one really rules over it. Shadowy creatures live there. Not many of our kind know what their purpose is, but an old friend of mine once told me that even ghosts or wraiths fear this void.
    "You have to concentrate on the shadow realm to summon an Arm of the Abyss. It is possible to create more than one at a time, but you should only concentrate on summoning one so that you can earn its respect and master the mental controls. You have to concentrate on its form. Watch."
    She stepped back from the candle and concentrated on the void. Out of her own shadow a pitch black snake-like appendage materialized in front of her. It seemed to have a sentience of its own, but was ready to do the bidding of its master. It was six feet long and its width tapered from that of a fire hose to a nail. With the tentacle she lifted a nearby dumbbel over her head and placed it against the wall. She then whipped it towards Oscar's legs trying to trip him, he managed to jump at the last second. She then held it out for Oscar to grab onto. He tested his own strength against it. The tentacle was trying to push him to the ground. He was straining, kept his balance, and then started pushing it back. Oscar let go of it and Rachel made it untie one of Oscar's shoes. She then let it fade into nothingness.
    He had a hold on the last embers of the Beast. He didn't learn how to control it, but just distract it. Oscar stepped back from the candle and closed his eyes. He concentrated on his shadow and what Rachel had summoned and opened his eyes as a similar appendage slithered out of his shadow. With his mind he felt that the tentacle was ready to accept commands, but it was putting up some minor resistance. He forced it to try and grab Rachel around the chest. It moved slowly and she was easily able to push it aside. He made it lift the unlit candle from the table. It accidentally squeezed the candle in half.
    "Shit, how do you control this damn thing?"
    "It's like learning how to use chopsticks with your feet. You have to remember that ther is a lot of power in the Arm, practice will refine your movements, but you can practice on your own time. I'm calling Jason down."
    Oscar forced the tentacle to bend at different angles in the air before letting it vanish.
    "Jason let's start!"
    Jason came down the stairs wearing a black velvet bathrobe and soccer slippers. His skin looked clean after his shower. He held the goblet in one hand and Mike's katana in the other. Rachel picked up the broken candle, lit it, and placed it on the table. Jason put the goblet between the two candles and the sword on the floor. Rachel got out her knife and was about to cut her wrist above the goblet.
    "Wait", Jason shouted and Rachel stopped!
    "Before I accept Oscar fully into our pack he must go through the same initiation that each of us had to, kill a werewolf by himself. Until then he is still on a trial basis. I believe that he will someday pass his initiation so he should learn how to do our rituals correctly, so I will accept his Oath of Loyalty during the Vauldriere."
    Oscar walked closer to the alter, "Fine I can do what you ask now that I know what I'm up against, but what's the sword for?"
    "While I was in the shower I had a vision of a sword in your hands during your next battle and I knew that it wouldn't be against me."
    Rachel cut her wrist and dripped her share into the goblet. She licked her wound closed. She handed the knife to Jason and he did the same. Oscar added his blood to the mixture and stirred it with the knife and licked it clean before giving it back to Rachel. He closed his wound and waited.
    "Repeat after us", Rachel said.
    "I was alive and lived in the sun", Rachel and Jason said slowly.
    "I was alive and lived in the sun", Oscar repeated.
    "I was dead and lived in the ground."
    "I was dead and lived in the ground."
    "I am between and live in the night."
    "I am between and live in the night."
    "I came unto you freely, and committed myself to the goals of the sect. In return I was given harsh duty to perform and brotherhood to honor."
    He continued to repeat after them.
    "I am loyal to my brothers, my pack, and my sect. Should I be disloyal, let my brothers tear my body asunder, let my brothers burn me till only ashes remain, let them scatter those ashes to the winds, and let them forget that I was ever their brother. To prove my loyalty I have added my blood to theirs and from this we all shall drink."
    Rachel picked up the goblet and drank her third. She passed it to Jason on her left. He drank his and passed it to Oscar. Oscar downed the rest and felt the rush and ecstasy of their more potent blood. Jason's eyes motioned for the sink and Oscar rinsed the goblet out in it and handed it back to Jason. Jason turned the lights on and started heading upstairs.
    "Hey wait, I'm sure that there are other rooms in this house. Which one do I get to stay in", Oscar yelled out to Jason?
    "Until you are a full member, we will allow you to sleep down here. If you want to shower you know where the sink is", he called over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.
    Rachel let out a yawn, "Dawn is getting closer. The sun won't touch you here, so practice if you need to." She left him alone with the lit candles and the sword.
    He picked up the katana and noticed some chips that he put on the blade during his fight for his mortal life. He cleared his mind and began making precise cuts in the air with the flawed blade. He worked on his footwork and speed. He turned the lights out and stared at the melting wax of the tall and short candles. He let his eyes adjust to the lower light.
    He grabbed the other end of the broken candle from the floor and threw it in the air in front of him. He had his sword ready and was about to cut the candle in half when he stopped the blade a centimeter from it. Before it hit the ground, as quick as lightening he summoned a tentacle to stop the falling candle. It was a perfect catch. He then made the tentacle drop the candle in his outstretched hand. Oscar smiled in satisfaction. He looked at the chipped edge of the sword against the candle light and frowned. This isn't my sword. It won't last in another 'battle.' I need my swords. I wonder how far it is from here to the house?
    Oscar put the sword down. His lungs expanded with his inhalation and contracted as he blew the candles out. He found that the act of breathing did nothing to refresh him. He also noticed that his unused lungs remained empty and weren't as strong. Shit I wonder if I have to learn how to breathe again.
    He practiced breathing until he felt that he would look normal in a crowd and then made his way i the dark to the foot of the stairs. He silently made his way up the stairs and to the closed door. He put his ear to the door and tried to listen for any noise. Nothing. They must be in their rooms.
    He slowly turned the knob and edged the door open. He thought that he saw some movement in the dark, but he couldn't be sure. Damn, if they can see me I guess that I don't need to sneak around. He closed the door and made his way into the kitchen. There was a window in the kitchen, but it had a heavy blanket covering it. The only light that he could see was coming from the green digital clock on the microwave. It said 6:35. He felt a pair of eyes on his back. Fuck it, if they want to stop me from exploring let them. He continued past the door to the garage and headed to the front door. He unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door in. I remember passing Genesse, but I don't remember what street I'm on now. That street is also a long one. He heard footsteps behind him.
    The dawn was slowly approaching. He could feel it. His body told him to go inside and sleep, but his heart wanted to see the sun for the last time. But more importantly he was hoping that he could see the street sign from the house. He looked out and saw that he was at the end of a culdesac. He felt the sun coming up over the houses to the East. His exposed skin was starting to feel like a mild sunburn. His eyes felt like Tabasco sauce had been rubbed in them. His throat usually moist from a healthy amount of blood in his system, started to feel sand dry. He couldn't see what street he was on, but the cross street was called Baxter St. Baxter Street, damn. I'll have to look for a map or in the phone book. I don't care how much it hurts, I want to see the sun for the last time.
    The sky was still slightly cloudly or else he would have seen it sooner. He felt the Beast raging inside of him wanting desperately to run all the way to the basement. He turned back for a second and almost ran, but he kept the Beast in check. He felt the sun burning under his clothes and his exposed skin felt like melted wax was being thrown on it. His eyes were watering, no bleeding. Some flowed past his lips and to the ground. They felt like they were boiling in their sockets. Then he saw the Sun.
    He was blinded, his eyes sealed shut, and he fell back a step. He felt that he was literally on fire. He wanted to scream, but was afraid to open his mouth for fear that his tongue would boil away. Then the man in the fedora used a blanket to grab him from behind and pulled him inside the cool house. When Oscar was on the floor wrapped in the blanket spasming from the pain, the man in the fedora shut the door.
    "What are you, fucking crazy? Only the toughest try to compete in the Sunrise club and they don't usually do it alone", the man sounded like a highly agitated Humphrey Bogart.
    Oscar risked to open his blood shut lips and whispered, "Who are you?"
    The man in the fedora closed the blanket up like a sack and carried it with Oscar to the basement. Considering that whoever the person was he did pull him out of the sun, Oscar felt a struggle would be counterproductive. The man in the fedora set Oscar down on the table and turned on the light.
    "Who are you", Oscar asked again?
    "Here drink some of this", the man slit his wrist with a claw-like fingernail and put it to Oscar's lips.
    Oscar drank only enough to wet his mouth and throat. The burning sensation started to lessen. The man then dropped a small pool of his blood onto both of Oscar's crusted shut eyelids. He then licked his wrist closed.
    "Massage your eyelids until you can open them again."
    Oscar slowly rubbed his eyelids until his lids started to heal. He saw the blood slowly restoring his vision as it seeped into his own system. He blinked a couple of times before he sat up and looked at his benefactor.
    Oscar slid off of the table, "Let me guess Nosferatu?"
    Standing near the table stood the ugliest man/monster Oscar had ever seen. He was six feet in height with a slight build. His eyes were completely bloodshot with dark red irises. His nostrils were big enough to fit golf balls in them and along the inside edges there were teeth. His blue-grey lips were chicken-thin in the middle and as thick as two fingers at the corners. It looked like he had two small horns growing out of his forhead. And the rest of his skin was yellow with purple blotches.
    He extended a three fingered opposable hand ending in dirty green claws, "The name's Reginald Park."
    Oscar slowly extended his own hand to shake. He noticed that on Reginald's palm was a black tattoo of a crescent moon.
    "The name's Vito Lotenzo."
    "I thought it was Oscar?"
    "It used to be, now it's Vito."
    "What are you doing staring at the sun, were you trying to end it all?"
    "No. Actually I was looking for a street sign. I was wondering how to get to my condo from here. By the way are you one of the Dragon's Maw? I don't remember them ever mentioning a Reginald."
    "You know what, for now I'd like to keep it that way. Oh I saw you eye that sword, but wait a minute. I am a member of the Sabbat. I noticed that they haven't taught you the handshake yet. In fact I'm also Black Hand. That's what this nifty tattoo signifies. Try and remember that Jr."
    "Handshake are you serious, so what are you here for?"
    Reginald slowly made his way over to the sword and used his foot to spring it into his tattooed hand. He whirled the blade around his body in a figure eight and pointed it at Vito. In a mock threatening tone he replied, "Why for you of course."
    "What do you mean?"
    Reginald dropped the sword on the table and sat on the stairs, "What do you know about your pack's current mission?"
    Vito sat on the edge of the table, "They haven't really told me anything, except that we are in a Camarilla held city. Why? Do you know our mission?"
    "Of course I do. You are supposed to capture a Setite and any childer of his and bring them alive to an Archbishop Toldoy down in Tecate, Mexico. Around here the Setite goes by the name of Albert De la Fuente and he poses as a Toreador, I'm sure one of your pack has a picture of him. What they don't know is that this Albert guy is a plague spreader and he should be Killed on site. He has already doomed all of his ghouls and who ever else he's fed on."
    "So why are you telling me this?"
    "Do you remember the night of your embrace?"
    "Not to be the wise-ass but, I would have to say yes. It wasn't that long ago."
    "Well I remember that at one point just before the girl with dogs and the guy with the sword came out of hiding, you somehow sensed my presence along with theirs. I was very suprised and impressed by that. And then when you nearly killed the whole pack I knew that it wasn't just luck on your part, you were a highly disciplined bushi. Also that guy with the claws you killed, was Black Hand. So I said to my self, Self if that guy makes it out of his grave you have to teach him the right Path. He is too talented to waste his unlife in a dishonerable quest for power or for materialistic fun. Rachel, I believe, like many others in your clan strives for power in and of itself, a spiritually empty pursuit I assure you. Her way is known as the Path of Power and the Inner Voice. Redbeard or Jason as you call him, besides pursuing his own goals would spend hours exploring the darker side of art and figuratively masturbating if he didn't have responsibilities to the pack. His way is known as the Path of Cathari."
    "What do you mean by Path?"
    Reginald started pacing the room, "It is the code you follow to cope with the Beast. If you were a part of the Camarilla you would probably try to deny the Beast by trying to act as human as you once were. What they don't understand is that the Beast or Hunger is a large part of them. We are Vampires and the Beast is a part of us, but if it takes full control of us we are nothing but destructive monsters. And that's where Paths come in."
    "So what Path do you want me to follow?"
    "Why my Path of course. Not many of our kind know about it in the West. It is called the Path of Self-Focus", Reginald picked up the sword again.
    Reginald started making cuts in the air, "It is very much like Zen and Taoism, it was undoubtedly influenced by them. The precepts are very straight forward, but only total dedication will force the Beast to be your weapon. The first is that you must Be, there is only now.
    "You must also remember to be the Beast, not become it. If you have a moment of free time you should be practicing your martial arts, challenging people to chees or wei qi, or improving on your Disciplines so that you will know your strengths and weaknesses. You must be able to judge all people by their actions, sometimes what they say or how they look is just their mask to the world. You must remember that someone who has no personal honor is worthless and lost to the world. Even evil things have their purpose, but you should not follow that path. You should only fight when there is no other option and only do it with honor. Try to enjoy the company of others, but don't become dependent on it. You yourself must define your own worth. Inner peace will be gained with the belief that there is a higher purpose.
    "It was Rachel's destiny to give you this gift. Always remember that you are being tested and that only you can taint or destroy your soul.
    "Speaking of which there are some among us that have actually sold their souls to a lord of Hell or some other dark place. They only serve their dark lords, which really sucks because they want to turn the Earth into another Hell. I have reason to suspect that Archbishop Toldoy is one of them. I think that he somehow infected the Setite as some sort of experiment."
    Vito looked at him hard, "I believe that I understand how to follow this path, but let me get something straight. You want me to kill this Setite when we find him? I'm not even a full member of the pack, Rachel and Jason are going to flip-out if I fuck with their mission anymore. And I'm not supposed to tell them about any of this or you? That doesn't sound like being loyal to my packmates. What about my honor to them, I gave my word."
    "That's right you're not a full member yet. Hmmm well then, I'll have to find a werewolf for you to kill."
    Reginald looked towards the wall and saw the Code of Milan showing him the answers, "Ah loyalty. You will be following the Code of Milan. Look at numbers six, nine, ten, and eleven. The sect comes before the self, you will be protecting us from the enemies of the sect, you'll be protecting Sabbat territory, and preserving our freedom. Besides you're not actually betraying them, I mean who knows maybe when Toldoy gets the Setite he'll infect the rest of you to tie up loose ends. So you will be honoring them by secretly protecting them from themselves. Remember this is only the beginning."
    Vito looked at the parchment and number thirteen in particular caught his eye, All Sabbat shall support the Black Hand.
    "Fine I'll keep silent. Do you know where Nobel and Regents is from here? I need to get some things from my place."
    "Very good. I know how to get there, if they will let you leave on your own I'll drive you there tomorrow night. But now we should sleep. I'll be behind those boxes, don't worry Rachel and Redbeard won't find me. I'll set my alarm for fifteen minutes before sundown so we can be up before them."
    Vito Lotenzo laid down on top of the table and Reginald hit the lights before jumping behind the boxes.
    Vito laughed softly, "Good Morning!"



        ***

Sept. 7, 1997.


    "Esor! Esor wake up", Adankeff yelled as he vigorously shook his companion next to him in the inky blackness of the Cadalac's trunk.
    "This is stupid, I could be sleeping in a bed in my own room. Wake up!"
    Esor tried to sit up, but smashed his face into the trunk, "What? Did you find her? Is it night yet? Who put this ceiling so damn close to my bed? Where are we?"
    "Night is upon us and we are in the trunk."
    "Oh yah. Well let's get things started. Should we head down to the bars again tonight? Or should we try some place else? I'm also kind of hungry, how 'bout you?"
    Adankeff opened the trunk and stepped out into the dim light of the parking garage, "I am not starving per say, but we should never be unprepared around her again. After that I think it would be prudent for me to contact the Regent of the local chantry. We should probably also go see the Prince before one of those gentlemen I spied at that club two nights past tries to track us down."
    Esor dusted off his suit, put his revolver in his shoulder holster, and got out of the trunk, "You talk to whatever Regent you want to, but let's not go see the Prince. I mean how's it going to look if we say that we are just in town hunting someone down? We're not Justicars or even Archons. I mean what is the Prince going to say once we tell her where we're from? LA's not exactly a popular town you know, they just barely kicked out all of the Anarchs from San Diego."
    Adankeff picked up his cane and closed the trunk, "I am not an Anarch and I doubt that anyone would care if a Malkavain was one or not. You must understand, I was brought up in the Old Country. I have not been to a normal city since my sire suggested I go to LA two years ago. Do not worry, if we are asked as to what are reason for trespass is I will simply tell her that I am here on clan business."
    They walked up the ramp to the street and nearly got run over by a car coming down.
    Esor yelled at the top of his lungs, "You fucking asshole watch where you're going!"
    Adankeff put his free hand on Esor's shoulder, "Why go hunting when the food comes straight to you?"
    Esor calmed down a bit and started laughing, "You're right those two are goners. Do you want the lady or the guy?"
    The man will suffice, however we need not drain them."
    Esor smiled and said under his breath, "you need not."
    The couple got out of their turquoise VW Bug and started heading towards the stairwell for the apartment complex. Adankeff and Esor quickly followed them into the stairwell. The guy was dressed in red baggy sweat pants, a tank top, and sandals. He had spent too much time in the sun and looked like he did too many drugs in his youth. The woman was about his age and a little shorter than him, but at least twice his weight. She had her long brown hair tied back in pig tails and her face seemed pleasant. They looked like they had been driving for hours. They opened the door for the second floor and headed down the brightly lit hallway.
    The man stopped at the second door to his right and unlocked the door. When the door was opened Esor and Adankeff quickly advanced.
    Esor tapped the woman on the shoulder and waited for her to turn around, "Yo fat girl let's go to the bedroom now."
    She immediately pushed past her boyfriend and Esor followed her in.
    "Hey you can't call my woman fat, I'll kick your ass!"
    Adankeff quickly stood in front of the man, "You will calm down. And now you will close the door and follow me to the bedroom."
    The man's anger slipped away as he closed the door to his one bedroom apartment. Adankeff led him past the small kitchen and bean bag couch to the dimly lit bedroom. He sat his meal on the queen size bed and grabbed his arm to feed. No tract marks were evident. Adankeff could smell faint traces of marijuana in the room. Esor had the woman laying on the bed next to the man and was feeding from her shoulder. They were both feeding shallowly. Adankeff got is fill and licked the wound closed. His meal started snoring in a sound sleep. Esor was taking a little more time with his meal.
    "Doctor do you think that you could occupy yourself with these two for a while, so that I may attempt contact with the Regent from the other room?"
    Esor stopped feeding for a moment with blood dripping down his chin, "Take all the time you need. I have some new home surgical techniques I'd like to try out."
    The woman looked up with terror in her voice, "Please don't bite me anymore. Someone help me!"
    "Thank you. Do try to keep the noise level down", he closed the door behind him.
    Before Esor bit down on the woman's leg he said, "I'll bite you whenever I want to. Now shut up!"
    Adankeff went into the kitchen and half filled a pot with hot water and put it on high on the stove. He covered the pot and watched intently for it to boil. Eventually steam started rising from the edges of the lid.
    His chant began sonorous and low, "Spiritus urbs aqua, spiritus urbs aura advorcare, portare meus nantius. Ipse erratus nocturnus. Noblis nomen Adankeff Kutsuveno filius urbs Edwin Balzarn, decimus generatio tribus Tremere. Sexo circu urbs mysterio. Meus sodalis Esor Dybbuk natus urbs Malkav. Procurator regni postulatio tegimen. Quo loco castellum?" He began again.
    Back in the bedroom, "Do you know what I am?"
    The woman tried to push Esor away, "A vavavavampire?!?"
    He mocked her, "Vavava very good, but more importantly I am a surgeon of great renown. You should feel honored. It's not everyday that a doctor makes house calls, for free. You see while drinking of your wine I noticed that much of your body has and abundance of cellulite. I will remove it for you right here, right now. Please no applause."
    She punched him in the face and he fell to the floor. She then rolled off of the bed in an attempt to land on him. He knocked the mirrored sliding door off its track as he crashed into the closet to avoid being immobilized.
    He picked up a pink fuzzy slipper and smacked her across the face, "Don't do that again. Now get back on the bed, disrobe, and don't move or make a noise until I say the word, Pasamaquadi!"
    Confident that she was mentally chained to the bed he started looking in the closet. He found a large old green suitcase marked 'TOYS' under a clothes basket. He pulled it out of the closet. In the suitcase there was a small horse's saddle, long black latex gloves, a few dildos, a red leather mask with matching bra, a pair of handcuffs, and a small lunch bag of marijuana. Next to the suitcase he saw and old canister vacuum.
    "I'll just take these green herbs. I suspect that they will have an interesting effect on my next session of experimental surgery. Besides it will only give you the munchies, so I'm doing you yet another favor."
    Esor plugged the vacuum in and tested the suction against his arm, "YOu wouldn't happen to have a smaller tube lying around would you. I mean the vacuum opening is too big, I'm a surgeon not a butcher."
    He heard the toilet running in the adjoining bathroom, "You know you should really fix that. Wait I got it!"
    Esor stepped over the sleeping man and into the bathroom. He lifted the back cover of the toilet and put it on the ground. He then reached behind the toilet and shut the water off. He saw the small plastic tube in the tank and pulled it out, "This will do nicely."
    Out of his coat he grabbed a long black leather wallet. He opened it by its snap and ran his fingers lightly over the scalpels, forceps, and other tools of his portable surgical kit. He reached into his coat again and produced an almost empty roll of duct tape. Esor pulled the stopper out from a new hypodermic saringe and pushed one end of the plastic tube from the toilet into its back. He then took the other end and duct taped it to the vacuum opening.
    "I'm almost ready. One last precaution."
    He went over to the man and used one of the pairs of handcuffs to chain him to the foot of the bed. Esor washed his hands in the sink, dried them on a towel and put on his own pair of surgical gloves.
    He put the vacuum on the bed and turned it on, "We'll start with the arms."
    Adankeff recited his incantation for the seventh time into the steam, when a voice finally spoke in his mind.
    "Buenos noches Senior Kutsuveno. Soy el Regent. Me llamo Federico Gonzales. Como puedo ir ayudas?"
    Adankeff responded with his mind, "Senior Gonzales you must excuse me as I am not yet a proficient Spanish speaker. Would you mind perhaps conversing in English?"
    "Fine, but if you seek sanctuary at my chantry you will do best to learn mi idoma while you are there. How is Balzarn?"
    "My sire is doing well for himself..."
    "So you say that your amigo Senior Dybbuk is Malkavian? Where is he from?"
    "My colleague says that he is from Chicago."
    "Senior Kutsuveno why are you here? And where are you from?"
    "For the past two years I have been doing my best to prosper in L.A. I am originally from the Tirgu Mures chantry, it is in present day Romania. I am here for research and training if at all possible. I would like to use your chantry for such an endeavor."
    "I will allow both you and your partner sanctuary if you agree to let me retain a sample of Blood from each of you for the duration of your visit. Believe me it is a necessary precation for being so close to Sabbat territory. If that is not acceptable then I will immediately alert the Prince to your presence and let you deal with the consequences."
    "Your Lordship I agree to your terms, but I am not sure if my partner will so willingly give a sample of his blood. Where can we meet you?"
    "If your friend won't offer his blood then I will have to tell the Prince that a possible Anarch is among us. Do try to convince him. As for the meeting place, we will meet at the Santa Fe train station Downtown in two hours."
    The telepathic conversation ended and Adankeff came out of his semitrance. He turned the stove off, poured the hot water in the sink and started heading for the bedroom. Just before he opened the door he heard the vacuum cleaner come to a stop.
    "Hmm it seems that your legs had more fat on them than I anticipated. Where do you keep the other vacuum bags?"
    The woman's once plump arms and legs now looked as fit as a swimmer's, though with much excess skin. She had minor bruises at the incision points and there was very little blood loss if one looked at the relatively clean sheets. Her eyes were still open and she seemed to be breathing normally.
    "Esor what are you doing?"
    "Liposuction. I'll need at least another twenty minutes to do the rest of her stomach. Why, don't you like my work?"
    "We will be meeting with the Regent soon. I will be waiting in the car."



    ***

    Under a half moon the small waves are gently rolling on the black sandy shore. Sitting by the cliff face staring off into the ocean is a bearded man in his forties dressed in faded overalls and a tie-dye shirt singing and strumming an acoustic guitar. Sitting opposite him smiling and enjoying the music is an African American woman with long black hair touched with gray wearing a sun dress and Birkenstocks. Closer to the water's edge kneeling before a small fire with his eyes staring off into nothingness with a feathered stick in his left claw is a lite brown furred Garou in Crinos or the war form. Jogging from the south of the beach in a hurry towards the trio is the cleark from the AM PM.
    "What's your hurry child? You look agitated Ra-Wanders-the-Nile-yuf (-yuf, honored equal)", said the woman as he got closer.
    The hippie stopped singing, but kept playing as Ra-Wanders spoke, "My sincerest apologies for ruining your serenity Rolling River-rhya (-rhya, greater in station), but I have a problem. Last night while I was at work there was a robbery. Now normally this couldn't happen. Others have tried before, but I would just stare them down and they would run for their lives. But last night three Leeches were posing as cop and robbers. They shot me and the other nearly sucked the life from me. I luckily escaped to the Penumbra to heal. While still in the Penumbra I peaked into my store and saw that they killed one of the customers. To make matters worse I tried to go to my apartment tonight and found out that the place is under heavy police surveillance because I'm a suspect."
    She stood up and looked very serious, "You are more than welcome to stay at the Sept of the Red Turtle. Do you remember what these Vampires looked like?"
    "The one dressed as a police was bald with a red beard. The one that put the bite on me had his dark brown hair tied back and he had a black goatee. The third was a woman, but she never took off her mask. I've come here to get some help in hunting them down. Do you know anyone who could help?"
    Four werewolves stepped out of the Spirit world ten feet away from the fire. Their leader, who carried a katana at his waist, growled a greeting to the elders. He looked to be a Silent Strider with his dark gray coat and sleek jackal-shaped head. Through his serious demeanor as their leader one could see that smiles came easily and frequently to this one in earlier days. To his left standing slightly taller was a dark red furred Crinos with a fresh sprig of mistletoe hanging from his neck and the glyphs of a Philodox Fianna carved into his left shoulder. He carried himself well befitting his rank, but he hadn't fully shed his homid tendency to disregard formality. Behind him, but showing no difference in pecking order, stood an extremely muscled Crinos with dark gray fur covering everywhere except from her broad chest down to her knees in white. Around her neck on a string she wore a black buffalo horn with the glyph of honor painted on for a past adventure, a pleated skirt of elk's hide, and a crow's feather tied at her left elbow with the glyph of the full moon in white on both sides. Just behind her was their newest member of their pack. His fur was the softest white and he wore a large necklace. It was gold with two inlaid stones, an emerald and a purple amethyst, both the size of golf balls.
    The Silent Strider spoke up in the tongue of the Garou, "We are known as the War Fangs. This is Sean Fists-that-Judge Flaterly of the Fianna, Storm-Caller of the Wendigo, Kosk Vladdispik of the Silver Fangs, and I am Hard-to-Breathe a Strider. Our totem led us here and we don't yet know why. If we can offer our services to the Sept then we will do so."
    "All are welcome to the Sept of the Red Turtle. I am the Sept Leader Rolling River. Perhaps you were sent to help Ra-Wanders-the-Nile. He was recently attacked bya a pack of vampires."
    Fists-that-Judge spoke out of turn, "Aye lassie weev had many a'tangle wit the walkin' dead. Why our leader himself owes his battle scars to suuch and encounter."
    Rolling River who is normally quite forgiving took offense to her being called 'lassie' by someone obviously younger than her. Hard-to-Breathe growled a warning to Fists. He didn't seem to hear it.
    They had been traveling for days and all of their tempers were on the edge. They had recently lost a packmate and with him gone their connection to their totem was weakened. Their pack totem Uktena became more distant after the death. They never really understood the dark water spirit, but they knew it would be there when they needed it. It used to walk with them, watch over them, and would sometimes heal their most aggravated wounds. For the past month it had only been appearing to them in cryptic dreams. It never answered direct questions in the dreams, as ever, but left clues to regain the closer connection. Their clues have led them to San Diego and they could feel that they were closer to their goal. They were always a fearless pack volunteering for the near suicidal missions and with Uktena as their back up they felt invincible. But now they have been lashing out at one another in their insecurity. they all hunger for action and to taste the blood of their enemies, but without their totem they don't feel whole.
    Storm-Caller growled her agreement, "This must be why we are here. Let's start the hunt. Kosk what say you?"
    Normally a very controlled warrior, Storm-Caller arguably had the deepest connection to their totem. Out of the pack she was their original rite master, but now her rage was running higher and the rest of the group felt much the same.
    "I agree. Let's drag those leeches screaming to Helio's gaze." He was breathing heavily and shifted to Hisbo, or the dire wolf form.
    "Aye lads, I'll be wit you too. Ra-Wanders-the-Nile-rhya tell us where they be."
    The elder clerk felt his blood boiling too, "My comrades in arms I would be honored to have you along, but the first kill goes to me."
    Hard-to-Breathe growled a challenge, "I recognize your higher station, but I am the leader and I decide who strikes first in my pack."
    The whole pack was growling and showing teeth in support of their leader. The clerk was almost unwilling to back down. Goose Singer started playing his guitar more violently. Rolling River who was normally calm, also felt her rage coming and she joined the elder Strider's side. The tension was high as each of their fighting spirits was being directed towards potential friends. Goose Singer shifted to Crinos and started growling a war ballet. The waves were crashing harder and the wind picked up. Muscles were tensed and everybody was ready to spring.
    The small fire burst twenty feet into the air and the light brown furred Crinos spun to his feet with his feathered stick glowing a light blue and his arms raised above his head, faced the crowd, and yelled, "WAIT!"
    The others were all frozen in place. The growling and music stopped, the waves calmed down, and the wind quieted to a whisper. The fire continued to burn at its impossible height.
    "I had a vision. I will tell it to you and you will listen. If you still wish to fight after I am done then I will not stop you."
    His voice was like a whisper, but all strained to hear the vision of the Master of the Rite. He was known as Tyrone One-Claw-Clapping Jones. He is the eldest Stargazer of the Sept and one of its best teachers. The spirit world held many questions that he held the answers to. But not all of them could be put into words, they had to be experienced.
    "I see a wei qi board, it is an old Chinese game played by two people with different colored stones where the objective is to strategically place the stones to capture the most territory. Represented by the black stones and possessing most of the territory sits to the South a very handsome Scandinavian male. He is wearing the robes of a high church official. He holds a diseased asp in his right hand and green bale fire is burning in his left palm. Around his neck he wears a rectangular mirror with two pronounced cracks on its surface. Behind him stand two Black Spiral Dancers.
    "On the North side of the board sits a younger Latino male with dark long hair and unique facial hair. In his right hand he holds a long sword of Japanese design and resting on his left palm is a golden goblet half filled with blood. He is almost fully cloaked in undulating shadows, except that on his left upper thigh is a birthmark of a dolphin. It has a faint golden glow around it and it gives off a feeling of Gaia.
    "To the East of the Board a giant the color of the deepest night is slowly trying to direct the second man. Wheather this hand means well or not I can not tell. On the West side of the board coming towards it are four Garou coming out of the ether following a translucent cougar with a snake's tail that is surrounded by water. Hovering above the board is a clock. That is all I can tell you."
    One-Claw-Clapping dropped his arms, sat, and faced the fire. The fire resumed its normal size as he shifted to homid, or the human form. He looked to be an African American in his early 50's. He wore his graying hair clipped short and looked every bit of the martial artist as his dedicated silk Kung Fu uniform formed onto his well toned body. He leaned in close to the fire and whispered his thanks. The others were quiet for a long moment and then also changed into homid. Their eyes made the apologies that their mouths because of pride couldn't. They realized that their true enemy was and has always been the Wyrm, in it's many forms.
    The clerk was the first to speak, "The second man you described sounded like the one who bit me the other night. How can this be? What does it mean?"
    Without turning his head One-Claw-Clapping whispered, "I can tell you no more."
    Goose Singer offered his interpretation, "Hey man its not like I'm defending the vamp that bit you or anything, but what if he was like trying to defend his mother or something. Ok let's just say for the sake of arguement that the dude from the vision and the one you met the other night are the same. What if he is just being misguided. I mean if this vamp really has Gaia's blessing then it would probably be a good idea to try and help him out, you know?"
    Rolling River tried to help, "I'm not sure why there were only four Garou in the vision, but it is obvious that the War Fangs are those four. Ra-Wanders I think that you should help lead this pack to the quarry, but you were probably not meant to join it. When you four find this Vampire of the shadows, check to see if he has the marks, but don't endanger this Caern."
    Storm-Caller smiled wide and spoke up, "I just felt Uktena, I feel that it agrees."
    The others in the pack also felt for a short instance Uktena's presence. They shared passing smiles of belonging and triumph, but knew that there was hard work ahead. As a pack they felt strong again.
    Hard-to-Breathe began again with business, "So tell me, Ra-Wanders-the-Nile-rhya did the shadow man leave any clues at your store?"
    Ra-Wanders responded, "One of his friends that was posing as a cop shot him and his mother while they were in my store. They also shot they phony cop. I remember seeing their blood fly."
    "Good. If I can get his scent we will find him in no time. Can you take us the scene of the crime?"



        ***

    Faint light was being cast by two light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Hanging near the lights towards the back of the underground chamber suspended upside-down by thick black chains were four young naked Mexican women, they were maquiladoras from the microchip factory above. One had an oxygen mask on and was breathing shallowly, the rest from the looks on their faces had died violently from the toxic fumes permeating the room. Blood was slowly dripping out of their mouths into a water trough. A large mahogany desk was a couple feet away from the trough. It had a Garfield lamp and post-its on its top. Next to the lamp was a white coffee cup with a yellow happy face and words beneth it saying 'Have a Nice Day.' Behind the desk was what appeared to be an electric chair mounted on a swivel without power lines connected. Three men entered the room from a heavily locked fire door.
    The first was dressed in long flowing black and crimson robes, a gold cord was tied around his waist, and atop his head was a pope style hat without ornamentation. He was a very attractive Scandinavian in his early thirties, with piercing eyes and a strong bearded chin from his living days among the Amish. Under his mock church garb he had an impressive frame. In his presence people called him Archbishop Toldoy. Not many could ever get away with calling him anything else.
    The two behind him were dressed in impressive power suits and cowboy boots. They both started coughing violently as they entered the room. The older one with gray hair started to grow a foot in height and his body put on at least thirty extra pounds of pure muscle. His face started growing to keep up with his body. His face looked like a Neanderthal's and his suit was busted open at almost every seam. He had taken what his kind called the Glabro form, one step away from the half man/wolf form called Crinos. He coughed up a small bloody piece of his lung, but his new form was able to regenerate the damage quickly enough to survive the hostile environment. His younger partner was doubled over on the wet dirty floor coughing and grasping at his throat.
    The older packmate kicked the black haired one hard in the ribs, "Change you idiot!"
    The younger finally shifted to Glabro, threw up a pool of bloody chunks, and weakly got to his feet.
    The gray hair spoke, "Toldoy why didn't you warn us. That is no way to treat executives of Pentex. Without us where would you be?"
    Toldoy slowly made his way to his desk. He placed his hat next to the lamp and turned it on. He then closed his eyes as he sat down and lowered the head harness to his head. It helped him think.
    In a deep voice filled with contempt he said, "If you will remember it is Archbishop Toldoy. No harm was meant, I was just establishing dominance. Why did you come here again?"
    The younger Garou handed a briefcase to the gray haired and spoke in a high voice, "We are here for two reasons."
    The gray haired pulled a knife and stabbed his packmate in the leg twisting it with every word, "Zregl how many times must I tell you not to speak for us?"
    The younger screamed out in pain as the elder smiled wickedly and removed the knife.
    Wifuulgo the gray haired opened the briefcase and pulled out two files, "First on the agenda is that our company is not pleased with your production schedule."
    Toldoy grabbed his coffee cup and dipped it into the trough. He brought it to his lips, "Elaborate."
    "This company was supposed to ship 100 missle guidance units to Lab number 42 along the Amazon. Our receipt records show that only 89 arrived. How do you explain the missing merchandise?"
    "My company loaded 100 units onto the ship at Alcupulco, I saw to it myself. Perhaps the ship was attacked by pirates. We obviously need to increase security along our transit routes. Thanks for bringing this to my attention. What is your second problem."
    Wifuulgo, named after the first sounds he made after dancing the Black Spiral, was mildly annoyed with the Archbishop's flipant answer. But he knew that Toldoy would really not let that happen again.
    "Our second item of business pertains to Pentex expansion into the San Diego area. We've been encountering problems in the business sector when we try to buy out certain companies. Some of our sources have pointed to Garou activity, which we are slowly handling, but some of these others seem to have their roots in older blood. Is there anything you can do to help us?"
    Toldoy refilled his cup as Zregl looked on in envy of the human meat just hanging there going to waste.
    "As you may or may not know, San Diego is still an enemy held territory. I have elements in the area securing the key to our success right now. You must have patience."
    There was a loud knock at the fire door. Toldoy leaped out of his chair and pushed a yellow button under his desk. The wall opened up behind him and he whispered, Gentlemen it has been fun, but you really must be going now. I'll call you at three tomorrow night."
    The two descended into the escape tunnel and the wall slid noiselessly back into place. Again there was a knock at the door. Toldoy skipped playfully over to the door and opened it.
    "Bishop Chase welcome to my office. Come have a drink I left one alive just as you like it. I believe that congratulations are in order. Profits are up at our little beer factory and security in that area is as tight as usual."
    Bishop Leslie Chase walked into the room, kneeled, and kissed the Archbishop's Crackerjack decoder ring. Bishop Chase was Vietnamese Eurasian by decent and Tzimicse by the blood. Because of her impure blood she was ostracized by the Vietnamese in her village along with the other children of mixed ancestry. Her life as a begger and thief kept her and her fellow outcasts continually moving. She was the stongest willed among them and convinced the others to follow her to Hong Kong and eventually seek out their fathers in America. While enroute to Hong Kong they were caught by slavers and forced to work in a sweatshop making designer handbags. During their captivity they were given little food and had to sleep on the floor in the bathroom. One night she and two other twelve year olds were sold into prostitution and were smuggled on a ship into San Francisco.
    Her first customer also proved to be her last. The John never touched her, but looked deep into her red rimmed sobbing eyes. He was able to see past her pain and suffering to her inner strength tha kept her going. He told her what he was and asked if she wanted revenge on her captors. She agreed and he embraced her on the spot. She methodically ripped out the throats of every man in the place as her sire looked on with a blank face.
    Her sire taught her the ways of the Sabbat before returning to his pack in T.J. He convinced another pack to take her in, but visited her in private every three months. He was the closest thing to a father she ever wanted. He wasn't surprised when he found out that she had attained considerable power in T.J. two decades later. He also wasn't surprised when she was offered a Bishopric in Tecate.
    She pulled off her dark brown overcoat and placed it on the desk. Underneath she was wearing baggy jeans and a Raider's jersey on her twelve year old frame. She bit into the neck of the oxygen-masked kine and drank shallowly.
    "Thank you Archbishop Toldoy. How have you been this evening?"
    Toldoy made his way back to his chair and was about to lower his head harness when his cellular phone rang, "Fine, er I'd better get this, excuse me."
    She stepped away from his desk as he turned his chair away from her and got the phone out from under his robes. She had never had the opportunity to listen in on any of his calls before, so she made and effort to sharpen her senses.
    In a high pitch voice, "Mommy what does it mean when you dream that the devil is your father?"
    "Um, your eminence, it's me Rachel. I need to tell you something important."
    his voice resumed his normal stotic tone, "Who? Oh, Rachel yes. Give me an update."
    "We've run into a big problem. Mike, Manuel, and Tina are dead. We have another in training, but we need at least three experienced brothers or sisters if you want us to take the Setite alive."
    Toldoy placed the phone against his chest to hide his reaction from Rachel, "What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Oh, wait I got it. Make it someone else's problem."
    He put the phone back to his ear, "I need to check my resources so let me call you right back."
    He spun around in his chair and put his phone on the desk. He looked up at Bishop Chase with a smile, "Leslie I have a little something to tell you, but you can't tell anyone else I told you."
    She straightened up, "No one else will hear what you say to me in this room."
    "Good. I'll tell you the short version. I have a pack currently in San Diego hunting for a Settite that has some information I need. The problem is that most of the more experienced members of the pack have been killed. Now I need you to find me some Sabbat who are loyal, will tell no one of this, and are willing to leave for San Diego as soon as possible to join that pack. The leader of the pack, by the way is Rachel de Manza of the Lasombra. Their pack's name is Dragon's Maw."
    So that's why they have been sounding stressed out when I called them. They're also working on a mission for this nutcase, that is slowing down their reconnaisance for our plans. She brushed her hair back and rolled her eyes, "Give me a minute. I'm trying to think who I could send... I've got it! Martha Navaro, Grandma Agnus, and Todd Rawls. They just lost their pack leader and I think they are ready for a change of pace. I know they will agree to your conditions. What do you think?"
    He picked up his phone, "A magus, an assassin, and a thief? Yes that's a splendid idea. Bring them to my office tonight as soon as you can and make plans for their immediate insertion."
    She grabbed her coat and rushed for the door, "I can have them all here in fifteen minutes."
    As the door closed and locked behind her Toldoy hit the memo button on his phone and waited for Rachel to answer, "Good news tomorrow night I will send three to aid you. I will have Bishop Leslie Chase call you later this evening when we have finalized the shipping details. She now knows about our little mission so don't worry about talking to her."



        ***
    "That's cool Rachel and Jason said I could go out and do my own thing tonight as long as I promised to be back before five. I thought packmembers spent every night and day together?'
    In a dark blue Lincoln town car sitting in the driver's seat next to Vito was an attractive looking East Indian man with an expensive looking suit, scarf, and black trench coat. He looked to be in his late forties and seemed to have a pleasant smile, it was his favorite mask. I was what he looked like before he knew the curse of Nosferatu or the Sabbat. He used to be known as Nasser Taminifiti, now its Reginald, an ugly name for an ugly mug as was his opinion.
    "Normally packs don't let their newest members out of their site for at least a week. And even then they have one of the trusted members follow them, until loyalty is indeed confirmed. But each packmember might also have business of their own that they like to take care of. Remember the Sabbat is built on freedom and the pack is one of your strengths not an overbearing inconvenience."
    Vito pointed left for Reginald to turn at the next light, "So where's your pack?"
    "Do I go straight after this? Ok and then another left? The last I saw of them they were still in L.A. I was ordered by the Hand to work in this area for an undetermined amount of time. My pack understands, but its ok because we have our esbats once a month which hasn't interfered with my mission or distanced myself from them. Oh sorry, you're probably not familiar with the term. It means when we meet as a pack to perform the Valdriere and find out what's going on with the rest of the members. It usally occurs once a week, but they made the change for me until I'm back."
    They ended up in a neighborhood full of two story duplexes, middle-aged trees, and short front yards. Telling by the expensive cars parked on the street and in most of the driveways, it was mostly a college student area. Reginald parked in front of a driveway potentially boxing someone in. Vito got out and started making his way across the street.
    Reginald was about to open his door when Vito called back, "I'm sure I'll be fine on my own, just sit tight."
    Vito was heading for the left duplex when he suddenly changed direction for the back of the house when he realized that he gave the key to Running Elk. He walked into the carport past Elk's truck and came to a tall narrow wooden fence. He reached over the top and undid the latch.
    He opened the gate into the house's back yard. It was a ten by ten concrete area sharing the fence with the houses to the left and to the back of it, and to the right there was a sliding glass door. Hanging over the 'back yard' was a small spider infested rosebush. Vito ducked under it as he made his way to the glass door. He looked in the room that Bryan(self-serving bigot) and Josh(asshole) used to live in and saw only the phone that they left him. He knew that the phone wasn't left for his convenience, but because Josh's phone line at his new place hadn't been hooked up yet and he needed to get his messages.
    Vito slowly slid the door open and noticed the smell of freshly painted walls in the room. He started heading towards the front of the house but stopped in the kitchen. He went through the cupboards and saw that they still hadn't brought back his plates that they accidentally brought with them to their new place. He walked into the adjoining living room and noticed that his TV was still there and hooked up to the cable.
    He looked outside the front window through the white vertical blinds and saw Reginald still in the car waiting. He then turned right and quietly made his way up the stairs, careful to avoid the third, sixth, and ninth steps because of the noise they made. At the top of the stairs he peaked into the first room on his right, Leland(two-face) and Dave's(honorless dog's). Their room was similarly devoid of life and newly painted. Vito continued down the hallway and opened the next door. It used to be Tony's(coward's) room. It was smaller than the others and was also painted.
    Vito opened the hall closet and was relieved to see that his surfboard and wetsuit were still there. He slid the two doors shut and then faced the closed door to the room that he used to share with Andre. Andre hadn't lived there since he had a psychotic episode and hurt himself. Some of Andre's things were still in the house. Vito listened at his door and was sure that he heard Elk's snoring.
    He turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was his still made bed looking very comfortable after his days sleeping on a table. His tall lamp was still there. His katana and Chinese broadsword were still hanging on the wall. His Star Wars poster and surfing calendar were also still there. The two sliding doors of the closet were closed. Elk was sleeping on a blanket on the floor where Andre's bed used to be. And then he saw the things that really pissed him off; a light blue drop cloth, rolling brush, and a ten gallon bucket of off-white paint. It pissed him off because while he was at work during the day they decided that they would repaint the house and he would also pay for it. They never asked him his opinion, they just decided for him. On those grounds since they weren't willing to help him out with a place to stay while he and Elk looked for a place to live or in the very least allowing him to store his stuff at their place he decided not to pay them for the paint and also not to accomodate them by refusing to paint his room. For him to see the supplies in his room was their message that he was expected to do it, he saw it as just another slap in the face. Those Fuckers are going to DIE! Slowly. But first I have business to attend to.
    He flipped the light switch and walked over to Elk to try and shake him awake. After two minutes of various shaking and light hitting, Elk woke up.
    Elk rolled over and opened his eyes to the blinding light, "Huh what is it? Oh Oscar, you're finally home."
    He sat up, "So where have you been? Did you get the digits?"
    With the most serious face Vito sat on his own bed as he addressed his friend, "Elk, Elk, Elk. I got more than her phone number. In fact you could even say that I got fucked. What I'm about to tell you though you're not going to believe. Get this, I'm a fucking Vampire."
    Elk took on an amused, then a serious face, "What do you mean you're a Vampire? And why are you here?"
    "Well I'll tell you only what I can. That woman that I was dancing with led me into a trap of her fellow vampires on the beach. I was supposed to be their meal, but instead I killed three of them and almost a fourth. The woman magically restrained me from behind and the one that I almost killed sucked almost all of my blood out. She stopped him from completely draining me, did it herself, and forced me to drink her blood. I can't even explain to you the pain and horror of being that close to oblivion. I wanted to die, but her blood brought me back to life like a force of raw nature. I tried to escape from her bonds, but the other one knocked me out from behind. They buried me in the sand and I had to dig myself out. I, no it wasn't me, ripped to shreads a young couple for their blood. Then they staked me through the back and brought me back to their place.
    "The other nights they have been training me in their ways and out of honor and oaths I've taken I can't tell you much else."
    Elk started putting a shirt on, "Shit. What can I do to help? That wasn't an offer of my blood."
    "Actually I came to get some of my things, mainly my swords. There are other creatures out in the night, like shapechangers. Don't worry I wouldn't take your blood, but I offer you the chance to be immortal. Think about it, its ok if you don't decide now. The offer is open."
    "I think one day I might take you up on that offer, but for now I want to be human. Which brings me to an important question, how do you now perceive the spirit world?"
    "Strange question, but it's different. I have encountered some important spirits and have had a powerful vision that I will tell you about next time, but for the most part I feel closed off from most of the flow around me. It's like before I could give and take from the energy around me if I just concentrated, but now I only feel the energy flowing in when I feed. It kind of sucks, but I'm sure there is a way to regain that connection. I guess that I won't be your roommate, but could I ask you for a favor?"
    "Sure what is it?"
    "First you have to promise not to tell anyone I told you this or give any hints to what might have happened to me. If anyone asks where I am just say 'I don't know.' Second, any stuff that I don't take with me tonight I want you to put into storage tomorrow. I'll write you a check for two hundred dollars, I doubt that you will need any more than that. And third, I'd like to see you again in three... no, four nights at ten o'clock at Carlos Murphy's. And please be on time."
    "You want to meet on Thursday, 75 cent Margarita night? That's cool. I'll write it down."
    Elk looked through his bags for a pen and notebook while Vito slid open the closet to get his check book. He wrote out the check and put it on the bed. He then got three bags; a long rectangular sports bag, his school backpack, and a smaller full cylindrical purple sports bag. He put a grocery bag full of his financial papers into his backpack and then began stuffing his clean and dirty clothes into the rectangular bag. He went to the bathroom to pick up some of his toiletries.
    He turned on the light before opening the drawer, "Oh shit! Elk come here you need to see something."
    Elk came rushing in to see Vito staring into the mirror, "What's up?"
    "My reflection, it's not there! Look! This is the first I've really noticed this!"
    Elk stood directly behind Vito and was able to see his own reflection perfectly. Vito didn't cast a reflection. Elk put his hand on Vito's shoulder and gave a push to see if movement mattered, it didn't. Vito kept moving in front of the mirror. He made faces at it, touched it, and even tried throwing water on himself. Nothing showed up, except for a fraction of a second where the water touched his face he thought he saw a faint reflection.     "Man that's weird, but I guess I don't really need a mirror to brush my teeth and hair."
    Vito cleaned himself up and went back to the room to grab his swords off of the wall. He unsheathed his katana and studied the polished blade. He resheathed it and laid it reverently back on the bed. He then slowly unsheathed his broad sword. He frowned when he looked at the unsharpened blade. He resheathed it and also laid it gently back on the bed.
    He started packing his CDs and tapes away when Elk broke the silence, "Other than that mirror thing what else can you do?"
    "Let's see. So far I can summon the shadows to do my bidding, I could probably bench press 700 to 800 pounds, I can jump higher and further than Micheal Jordan, all my senses are heightened, and I can force others to do my bidding with verbal commands. I promise to give you a little demonstration Thursday night, but I should really get going."
    Vito put his backpack on, put the shouler strap of the rectangular bag across his chest and over his right shoulder, and rested his dark blue rolled sleeping bag on top of it. He put his swords under his left arm balancing them on the bag and in his right hand he grabbed both the smaller purple bag and a small stereo. He angled his way through the door and started making his way down the hall.
    "Do you need some help with that stuff?"
    "No I'll manage. Don't forget to get my surfboard into the storage, because vampire or not I'm going to surf again."
    Vito made his way slowly down the stairs and Elk unlocked and opened the front door for him. He made his way to Reginald's car and Elk closed the door after him.
    Reginald popped the trunk as Vito got closer, "Are you ready to go yet? I kind of wanted to go hunting some time this evening."
    Vito put his bags, stereo, and sleeping bag in the trunk and closed it. He was holding his swords by their sheaths as he sat down in the passenger seat.
    "So, where are we going now?"
    "Well, I need to find some information on the local werewolf population, so I'll drop you and your stuff off back at your communal haven and come back to pick you up when I know what I need to know."



        ***

    "Wakey, wakey. Its time to eat", said an older looking white man dressed in a modest light gray business dress and a short blond wig. He walked over to five coffins in the dimly lit basement of the medical library and banged on them with a hand held microphone.
    The first to open his coffin was Dennis Yamato. He wore a tasteful Hawaiian shirt, dark gray slacks, and GQ glasses. He was a very handsome man with a very welcoming smile. He straightened and dusted his clothes off. He then pulled out a pocket mirror and black comb to fix his slightly ruffled short black hair. People used to think of him as just another quiet Asian nerd while he was completing his degree in electrical engineering not too long ago at college. Those people were right he was a nerd, but that all changed the night of his Embrace. He became what his sire said was his true self, a Casanova. His luck with the ladies, at least in his head, has never been better. No woman can resist his charms and if they did they must have been lesbians, at least in his head. Still he has managed to bed down with some impressive looking women. He boasts that all of his parts still work.
    The next to welcome the night pulled out the sword he always swallows before going to sleep from his mouth. Alejandro wore his long blond hair in a braid. He had dazzling green eyes and a hawk nose. In his mortal days he was considered one of the greatest circus performers alive. He could cross any tightrope blindfolded, pull off the most amazing quadruple twists on the trapeze, stick his head in a lion's mouth without a scratch, and he could eat fire with the best of them. He closed his coffin and put his sword on top of it. Alejandro then pulled five knives out of their sheaths on his black raw-hide vest and started juggling. He is the first legitimate childe of the nut called Jenny Jones, aka Gary. He is the first legitimate childe of the nut known as Jenny Jones, aka Gary.
    Out of the shortest coffin jumped Monique with her dark red USD college sweater. She had a cute freckled face, light brown eyes and hair, and braces. She was in her first year of college and barely eighteen years old four years ago when she became Jenny's third legitimate childe. She remembers the days of the Anarchs and wants to bring them back into town 'cause they were fun to hang with.' Lately she has been spying on the Ventrue Primorgen because she thinks that he is working for her sworn enemies, the Quadruple Entente. She thinks that they are out to get her no matter ho hard people try and tell her that Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, Leprechauns, and the Green Party don't really exist.
    Emma and Jessie stepped out of their respective coffins and looked at their sire. Emma was dressed in her blood red nurse's outfit with black lipstick and shoes. She wore her lond dirty blond hair in a tight bun under her nurse's hat and held a small medic's bag at her side like a purse. Emma's body was heaven sent with curves like a water slide and a face forever unwrinkled in her mid-twenties. Of the two she was the first of Jenny's unauthorized childer after the Camarilla took the city back. She was also very angry with Jenny because he wouldn't let her leave the hospital and explore the city.
    Jessie was the oldest looking out of all of them, his forty years as a fisherman left him with sunburnt leathery skin and a squint in both eyes so pronouced that Popeye would have made fun of him. He was the least outgoing out of all of them. He just wanted to go back to his boat and fish. Jenny violated the Third Tradition, that of Progeny, by creating Emma and Jessie, but no one knew about them except his brood. He threatened them with Final Death if anyone spoke to any outsider.
    "In today's show we will be looking at parents who dress their kids funny. Now come on, we have to find guests for my show", Jenny Jones yelled out as he made his way for the stairs waiting for his offspring to follow.
    They were all used to Gary's delusion of him being the talk show host Jenny Jones. The truth be told he used to be a big Hollywood producer back in the 1930's until one day he took a vacation in San Diego and was given the curse of eternal life. So he could feed more easily he managed to transfer his sizeable fortune into funding the local hospitals a week after his Embrace. Although he has a big ego he managed not to name anything after himself. Soon after his Embrace he was seen as a great organizer and avid supporter of the Camarilla and was quickly accepted by the Prince at the time. With his effective control over the hospitals he has been able to discover if anybody was feeding too regularly or deeply and how to cover up such incidents. Like the Ventrue Armstrong he too remembers the Anarch occupation and how sloppy they were with their feedings.
    For most of his unlife he kept the other voices in his head from saying anything he didn't want to. Until six years ago he returned home one night from feeding and found that his real wife that he illegally embraced the night before had cut off her own head from the madness of the blood. He was trying to make sense of her suicide while he was staring at the television for two days straight. He finally cracked and before he smashed the TV against the wall he say Jenny Jones on the screen and mistook it for his own reflection. The other voices in his head had finally found a way to interact with the world and he felt both liberated and violated by his new behavior.
    He was a the foot of the stairs and beckoning for his Coterie to come along when the phone started ringing.
    "I'll get it", yelled Monique doing a cartwheel towards the phone!
    She held it upside down and said hello.
    "Hello Monique, this is Carl. May I speak to Jenny Jones, it is urgent?"
    "Excuse me Mrs. Jones, your production editor needs to talk to you", Monique said as she tossed the cordless phone to the talk show host.
    Gary lowered the pitch of his voice to a less annoying and more manly tone, "What's wrong?"
    In a very nasal but strong voice, "Sir I found something interesting about a body that was brought in here a night ago. I think that you should come right away, I don't trust phones."
    Jenny dropped his microphone and kicked the doorway in frustration, "I'll be right there." Jenny picked the microphone up off the floor and put it back by his silver screen covered coffin.
    "Ladies and gentlemen it seems that there has been a change in plans. We will have to postpone our little show until tomorrow night. Dennis, Alejandro, and Monique you guys can go ahead and dance the night away. Emma and Jessie you guys get to join me at the morgue, now doesn't that sound fun everybody? Emma I don't see you smiling."
    Emma frowned even more than usual, "When are Jessie and I going to be able to leave this fucking hospital and dance the night away?"
    "You can't use that kind of language, our sound editors aren't set up yet and the FCC will take away our license. Now as I told you before I can't introduce you until I can convince the Prince that I should have another childe, but don't worry I have some ideas on how to speed the process. Let's go."
    Jenny, Emma, and Jessie left the building and walked to the Eastern end of the UCSD Medical Center. Jenny unlocked the back door of a two story building and they made their way down darkened halls to the hospital's morgue. A bald muscular Turkish man with a mustache in his early forties welcomed the trio in. He was wearining a long bloodied lab coat with latex gloves and covers for his shoes. His blue name tag read 'DR. CARL HAVIS'.
    Carl appeared in the city over ten years ago dazed and confused. The first Kndred he met was Gary who took him in and gave him a job after finding out about his hidden medical skills. After getting to know each other after a little bit Gary was convinced that Carl was of the clan Malkavian. Carl seemed to be always obsessed with being on time, for everything. What he and everyone else doesn't know is that he is rally Bishop Chase's childe. He was secretly trained by the former Archbishop Urquidez and Leslie Chase, blood bound to them, and then Dominated to reconstruct his memory. Carl thinks that he is Malkavian and supports the Camarilla, but all that would change in an instant the moment Bishop Chase told him the secret word and activated her sleeper. His real purpose is to find and document all of the havens of the Kindred in the city. His list is almost complete, but he thinks that he is collecting the information for himself. He hasn't shared any of this information with anybody else.
    Carl walked over to one of the examination offices on the right. A blond woman with a shot wound to the head was laid out on the table. He repositioned the overhead light to the body's neck. Jenny, Emma, and Jessie followed him into the room.
    Gary moved closer to the bloodless body, "So what am I looking for Carl? This woman appears to have died of the shot to the head."
    Carl picked up a scalpel and forceps. He expertly cut the jugular vein and cartroid artery and made a point to open both of them up wide, "If you look closely there is no blood in either the jugular or the cartroid. If she was just shot then maybe she would have bled out through the bullet hole, but there would still be at least some significant trace of blood in the jugular or somewhere else in the body. If you look at the other places that I cut into the body, you will notice that they are also more than a few pints short. Also the boys that brought the body in said that other than the brains they picked up, there wasn't much blood on the ground around her. It's my hypothesis that she was completely drained, her wound was licked closed, and she was shot in the head to make a weak cover up. I did a little questioning and found out that she was a victim of an armed robbery up in North Clairemont. You might want to call Larry up."
    Gary got a closer look at the body, "Shit, who could have done this? This is sloppy even by Anarch standards. Yeah I'd better call Larry."
    Gary dialed from the phone in a nearby office and waited for someone to pick up, "Hello this is Gary Shumenstein, is Larry there?"
    "THIS IS LARRY. HOW YOU DOING GARY, OR IS IT JENNY", the man yelled over the phone?
    Loud Larry the Brujah Primorgen grew up near a munitions factory in East Texas and lost a good deal of his hearing. He for some reason can hear other people when they speak at normal levels or even whispers, but he can't seem to hear himself unless he yells at full volume.
    He was Embraced by Tara back in 1841 and rejoined her in San Diego in 1993 back when she was trying to turn the city Camarilla friendly. When it came time to retake the city from the Anarchs, the current Prince Melanie Caldwell convinced him to betray his sire in exchange for a position of Primorgen when she came to power. He moved easily into their ranks and betrayed a great number of them. Those that didn't escape to LA, made temporary havens out in the East county.
    While the others in the city were worried about territories they were going to get after the Camarilla victory he was busy cementing the various police forces to his control. He has the police chief, two detectives, a woman from internal affairs, and four regulars dominated and ghouled to him. He knew about the Prince's limit of three ghouls per Kindred, but he thought that he covered his tracks well enough to get away with it.
    Gary held the speaker away from his ear and talked ito the receiver, "Larry, a body was brought in yesterday night. My staff tells me that someone sucked her dry, and then shot her brains out to try and cover up the true cause of death. Her body was found at the scene of an armed robbery up in North Clairemont. I was wondering if you kne anything more about it?"
    "I HEARD OF THE DISTURBANCE, BUT I DIDN'T KNOW ALL OF THE DETAILS. IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU SUSPECT THAT ANARCHS DID THIS?"
    "No I have a bad feeling that it wasn't just Anarchs. Don't say anything yet but I think it might be Sabbat."
    "I'LL SEND ONE OF MY DETECTIVES TO CHECK EVERYTHING OUT. ARE YOU SURE THAT IT'S NOT ANARCHS, BECAUSE ONE OF MY MEN FOUND TRACES OF THEM OUT IN THE EAST COUNTY?"
    "I'm not sure, but I'd rather know than guess. Call me back as soon as you find anything. Later."


        ***

    "If everyone will be seated I'd like to begin tonight's meeting", John Armstrong boomed as he assumed his seat at the head of the long black conference table with his back to the heavily tinted office window looking out over the Golden Triangle.
    All of the city's Blue Bloods were seated in order of importance o both sides of the conference table. To the Primorgen's immediate right sat Craig Lucieto. Lucieto often jokes that he had a little too much past in his living days and his short stature he blames on his overbearing mama slapping him on his Ceaser bald head. When it comes to San Diego real estate it was him you were really dealing with. His sharp sense of current fashion and friendly everybody's favorite uncle smile gained more deals than any threats ever did. He says that he came over to America with his family and other immigrants at the turn of the century. He also says he made his way out West with the railroads in 1910. Of all the city's Kindred he deals most openly and honestly in every business transaction. He easily makes friends from the most staunchest corporate raiders to the most rabble rousing Anarchs.
    On Armstrong's left sits Ruth Melchoir. Ruth had her dark brown hair cut to a conservative shoulder length. Her sharp blue eyes, tight expressionless lips, and high cheek bones told everybody that when she walked into a room she meant business. Her business was in the political realm, state politics to be exact. Ruth got involved in California politics early on when she helped to secure water rights to San Diego County by taking away from many of the local Indian Reservations. She wasn't as late in the greatest moods, because one of the Tremere by the name of Joyce DeMatto, was making more inroads to some of her favorites in the State Assembly.
    Next to Ruth sits Armstrong's progeny Eliot Thatcher. Eliot has warm hazel eyes, a hawk like nose, double chins, and steel gray hair. He always wears black with his white priest's collar and a small wooden crucifix around his neck. He was officially with the Church of England before Armstrong Embraced him. He was near death from one of the Nazis' bombing raids on London when Armstrong brought him back. He now has a strong influence on the city's Protestants, often directing the way they vote in every election, for his clan's best interest. He also has some reliable connections to some of San Francisco's Ventrue.
    Sitting directlye across from him derssed in a very expensive Armani double-breasted suit is Herbert Atkinson, Armstrong's lawyer/ghoul. Herbert has the authority to sign anything that needs to during the daylight hours. He has broad shoulders, frizzy black hair, a youthful smile, and a slightly graying mustache. he was silently waiting with his laptop on the table ready to read last week's business and to take tonight's notes.
    Further down the right side of the table dressed in a filmsy red dress was Lena Phelps, Armstrong's great-great-granddaughter and personal bodyguard. She has been his ghoul for the past 10 years. She was known to be a so-so martial artist, but a virtual Goddess of the gun.
    Herbert cleared his throat, "In last week's meeting we focused on preparations for distributing funds to the PACs, expanding real estate interests in the Mission Beach area, researching on sites for the new stadium project, and strategies to get future emergency Camarilla assistance to this city."
    "Thank you Herbert. Ruth has all of our slush money for this quarter been distributed yet?", Armstrong queried.
    Ruth opened a brown attache case and put six manila folders on the glossy table. Everyone was waiting patiently for the old business to get over with in order to porperly present new projects. Once a week the day before the Prince holds open council, Clan Ventrue holds teir board meetings to make sure that clan resources are being properly managed. The Ventrue of this city are politically weak in comparison to the national average. The weakness is best explained by the Anarch Occupation. Armstrong and his associates did well in holding on to their asests during the Anarch Occupation, but as the Clan of Blue Bloods their activities were severely crippled and monitored. All that is changing, but slowly.
    Ruth responded in her high-pitched voice, "Some of our former pets in the South county have funding coming in from somewhere else. So I put the rest into some parties that will support an initiative that will severely limit bilingual education. I also have new business I'd like to discuss."
    Armstrong nodded and turned towards Lucieto, "Noted. Craig how is Mission Beach coming along?"
    Lucieto sat up in his seat, "I've convinced one developer to build three ocean-front units and I bought a charming restaurant in the area. I'm having a little trouble with some of the building permits, but nothing that won't fix itself. I have no new business to present."
    "Splendid Craig. I found three suitable sites for the stadium. The first is in the Downtown water front district. the second next to Qualcomm Stadium and the third near the Warehouse district near the Convention Center", Armstrong said as he passed out photocopied site maps to the rest of the Board.
    Armstrong waited for the others to look over his maps before continuing, "These plans will lead to some new business I'd like to discuss, so Eliot let's hear your report on Camarilla backing."
    Eliot Thatcher absent-mindedly ran his fingers over his cross before beginning, "I made some calls to San Francisco, Tucson, and London last week. I couldn't get a definite answer, but I was told that one of the Justicars would send a representative or appear at tomorrow night's Conclave. I don't know what he or she will say, but some information has been leaked and full support may be in the works. For tomorrow I would like to represent our Clan on this security issue. Other than that I have no new business to present."
    "Thank you Eliot, you may represent us on this issue, unless there are any objections", Armstrong looked around the table?"
    No one objected. Eliot often spoke at Conclaves and he always made his Clan seem very united.
    "It sems that we are done with old business, who else would like to present new business", Armstrong questioned?
    Herbert Atkinson raised his hand from his keyboard.
    Armstrong nodded and Herbert put his hand back down, "I'm sorry Ruth and Herbert, but tonight I believe it is important for all ot hear my business first."
    Ruth Melchior frowned at the break in etiquette, but knew that whatever the Ventrue Primorgen had to say must be important. He never put his own business interests before his Clan's prosperity so his new business must be intertwined.
    "Originally my first choice was for the Water Front site. It would have given us greater access to the downtown area, brought more business to that area, and the site is beautiful. However I know that some would want the site near Qualcomm because it would be cheaper to develop the land, less of a drive for the fans to get to it, and it would be easier for me to keep my eyes on both of the stadiums. But because of Clan interests I think that the site near the Convention Center would be the best choice for the new Baseball Stadium", chimed Armstrong.
    Craig spoke up, "Excuse me but could you elaborate on your political choice?"
    Armstrong changed gears a bit, "As you all know this past week I have been tailed by some of Larry's cops. It has come to my attention that he has more ghouls than the Prince legally allows. The reason for my support of the Convention Center site is two-fold. One, we will have greater access to the downtown area and will be able to keep our eyes on Loud Larry and two so we can involve the Tremere in my stadium plans."
    At the mention of the Tremere all at the table shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Ruth jumped out of hers, "What are you talking about? Why on Earth would you want them in your plans?"
    "Ruth please sit. Trust me this plan will help us all. I need the wizard's thaumaturgical support so that I can present conclusive evidence that Larry is violating the Masquerade and is unfit as a Primorgen. I will then be in better position to become Prince. I'm sure that they will welcome the Stadium being so close to their territory, plus I'm sure that during negotiations you can secure Assembly seats back into our Clan's interests. I know that Gonzales will be suspicious of the deal, but I know that he won't let DeMatto get in the way of his Clan's interests. Back to my Stadium though, I will be setting up a fan based action group and I hope to get something started with a city based task force. Ruth you may now present your business."
    Ruth Melchior looked at Armstrong slightly bewildered, but kept her cool, "Well it seems that my plans will have to wait until those negotiations open up. You are right though, DeMatto will have her hands tied."
    "Herbert I believe you had something to present?"
    "Yes sir, first I'd like to talk about certain tax code strategies that would really like to present to the City Council that will help most of our businesses."
    "First...
    Someone's pager went off. All at the table, except Herbert, were apparently bored by the next issue on the agenda and were disappointed when they found out it wasn't theirs. All were disappointed except Craig Lucieto who seemed slightly worried by the message scrolling across the little electronic box.
    Lucieto turned to the Primorgen and Chairman of the Board, "May I be excused Chairman? This is very important."
    Armstrong was annoyed that he wasn't able to leave, but signaled his approval with a curt nod of his head.
    Lucieto opened the double doors and walked past the two armed guards who were the security for the meeting. He closed the doors behind him and made his way to the elevator before rechecking the message on his pager.
    AT PLEASE MEET ME ON 23 FLOOR- N.
    Lucieto put the pager back in his pocket and pushed the button for the 23rd floor. He looked at the palm of his right hand, pulled off a cosmetic band aid and traced the black crescent tattoo with his index finger. No one in this city knew his real name. They also didn't know about his affiliation with the Tal'Mahe'Ra, the True Black Hand.
    Members of the Hand are selected from the best warriors of the Sabbat. They are said to have rituals of their own. They are the elite army of the Sabbat, the glue that keeps the chaotic practices of the Sabbat from tearing itself asunder. Or so the majority of the Sabbat and even younger members of the so called False Black Hand believe.
    Millennia ago in the lands of the Middle East a cult of mages banded together to try and find the secrets of death, they called themselves the Tal'Mahe'Ra. During their early years they made many blood offerings and elaborate human and animal sacrifices to find the secret of the soul. In their studies they contacted wraiths and other deziens of the Dark Umbra. Their knowledge of the magickal Sphere called Entropy grew. They then decided to let Vampires in to their cult to see if the undead had any more secrets that could help them in their Ascension.
    To their dismay they found that the Vampires knew less about death than they did. But the Vampires did have other secrets about the world of darkness that they shared with the group in exchange for shelter and blood. They mages who later developed into the Euthanatos Tradition, also offered to teach the few Vampires that joined them magick in exchange for some of their blood in order to further their studies. The Vampires were able to grasp the concepts of magick but were unable to perform it. A few mages asked for the Embrace and were horrified when they found that they couldn't use magick anymore. A lucky few could still work their magick after their Embrace, but most decided that they risk was too great. Instead they learned how to exist off of the Vampire's blood while breaking any blood bond from forming.
    The most important thing that they mages taught them and what sets them apart from other sects was how to pass into the Dark Umbra, or the land of the Wraiths. About the same time the group probably numbering no more than twenty came across a being who when he died would come back into hisown body. This being was known as a mummy and during his rest period he left his body and traveled the spirit world. His name is Inauhaten. On one such rest period he came across the First City of Caine, Enoch, but it was in the spirit world. He also felt four very powerful Cainites laying in torpor, behind sealed tombs. He was allowed to join the group if he lead them to Enoch. They in exchange promissed to protect his body during his times of rest.
    When the Cainites of the group entered the city and got near the tombs they believed immediately that the Vampiric inhabitants had to be Aralu or Antediluvians. Some started recieving dreams and impressions immediatly from the sleeping figures. They believe that they know who three of the Aralu are.
    Around 500 BCE the Cainites peacefully took over the group and started spreading the group to Europe.