Serena curled up into a ball beside one of the many 
trashcans that filled the alleyway and tried to stifle her 
sobs. If THEY heard her, her existence would become even 
worse than she had ever thought possible... and that was 
saying a lot.

        "Come out, come out, little pussy-cat," came a 
sniggering voice from the mouth of the alley. "We just want 
to play with you."

        "Yeah, come out and play," chanted another voice, 
punctuated by the whir of a swinging length of chain.

        Serena risked a peek around the side of the trashcan 
and saw her pursuers, their eyes glowing red in the 
darkness. It was a mistake. They all wore biker clothes, 
leather and chains, with the symbol of a black fist on a 
blood-red circle on the backs of their leather jackets.

        "Oho, I think I see our pussy now," the first crooned.

        The third one, hitherto silent, spoke. "Let's see how 
one of her kind bleeds."

        They entered the alleyway. Serena tried to force 

herself to her feet, to run, to hide, but the alley ended 
in a brick wall.

        Stupid to hide in here. Luna, didn't you see that this 
was going to happen? she cried out to her mentor silently.

        There was a rasp of a match being lit.

        They all turned to face the mouth of the alley.

        A punk stood there. She was young, with her brown hair 
shaved to crew-cut level on the sides of her head and the 
rest of it drawn up into a ponytail. She wore tight leather 
pants which had the right leg cut off at the thigh while 
the other pant leg reached down over her steel-toed boot. 
She wore a dark jade leather jacket over a black fishnet 
top and black leather halter top. As she lifted the match 
to the cigarette dangling from a mouth lined with black 
lipstick, Serena could also tell the newcomer had the 
greenest eyes she had ever seen.

        "Yo," she said. "Simeon, I thought you were told to 
stay out of Anarch territory."

        The first biker tried to act tough. "Your RULES don't 
mean anything to us! We're--"

        The punk girl suddenly slammed the back of her fist 
against the alley wall, punching a hole through the bricks 
with ease.

        "Anarch rules, chum, can only be broken if you're 
strong enough to get away with it." Menace dripped from her 
voice, scaring them all.

        The biker with the chain suddenly lashed out at the 
punk girl. It wrapped around her fist. For a moment, the 
two stood there as he strained to pull her down.

        She smiled and the faint light of the alley glinted 
off her fangs.

        Exploding into motion, she yanked hard on the chain, 
pulling the biker off balance. As he came within reach, her 
right leg snapped out to connect between his legs. He 
moaned in pain and doubled over.

        His companions launched themselves at her, trying to 
hit her from each side, but she dropped the chain and leap-
frogged over the chain-wielder. As she reached the top of 
her hop, her legs shot out in a perfect split, catching 
both bikers square in the face with her boots. Then she 
landed behind them and looked curiously at Serena.

        "B-bitch!" spat out the first biker, along with a 
tooth.

        "Get lost, Simeon, before the Warlocks find out you're 
in town. This city belongs to the 'rilla."

        "The bikers started to shuffle off, but the leader 
couldn't resist a parting shot. "Not for long, Lyta! The 
Sabbat is gonna rule! You'll see!"

        Serena wasn't sure where the knife had come from, but 
it appeared magically in Lyta's hand. Then it appeared in a 
much more mundane fashion in Simeon's left eye.

        "But you won't," Lyta said over his howls, stalking 
over to him, "unless you leave now." With that, she tore 
the dagger out of Simeon's eye. "And don't expect that to 
heal quickly. A Warlock gave me this," she said.

        Simeon had to be helped away by his comrades, but Lyta 
never took her eyes off them until they were gone. Then she 
brought her dagger up to her mouth and licked the blade 
clean.

        Serena whimpered at the sight.

        Lyta turned and looked embarrassed. "Shit, sorry girl. 
Didn't mean to frighten you."

        She sounded sincere, but Serena could only stand there 
like a deer in the headlights. A rosy-tinted tear trickled 
down her cheek. Lyta noticed it.

        "Oh, good... thought I had blown the Masque but good. 
What Clan are you, girl? I'm Lyta, with the Brujah."

        Serena shook her head. "I'm not supposed to say," she 
said. "They..."

        Lyta's eyes widened and Serena knew why. Her control 
had slipped again. She closed her tear-stained eyes and 
awaited the inevitable.

        Lyta looked at the third eye staring at her from 
Serena's forehead and for once the Anarch had nothing to 
say.

VAMPIRE MOON

A
Sailor Moon
Vampire: the Masquerade
Fusion

by
Jeffrey Hosmer
&
John Biles

        Raye Hino opened her eyes to the darkness of another 
night and with her woke the Hunger.

        Imagine starving to death slowly over a thousand years 
with all the food you could ever want just out of reach. 
Imagine a void in your gut that would make a black hole 
seem sated. Now add an almost sexual desire for the 
provender. Imagine that and magnify it and you begin to 
grasp what the Kindred feel when they mention the Hunger.

        She sat up and pushed aside the Hunger for now. It was 
never easy, but she had plenty of practice. Sometimes, she 
remembered the first awful, uncontrollable, Hunger, just 
after her Embrace, and shook in fear.

        Her birth into the legions of the night.

        She would feed, but first she had her nightly ritual 
to perform. She pulled open her nightstand drawer and 
looked inside... and recoiled halfway across the room.

        It was a simple wooden rosary but she could not bear 
to look at it. Tears ran down her face, staining her silk 
nightie. "Chad!" she croaked.

        The door to her bedroom opened and her faithful ghoul 
stepped in. His eyes full of pity he walked over to shut 
the drawer. Once the rosary was safely out of sight, Raye 
relaxed.

        "Raye? It's safe now," he said kindly, though keeping 
a safe distance from her until she had regained control.

        The Hunger roared forth again and Raye's preternatural 
senses were suddenly totally focused on Chad. She could 
smell his scent, the natural aroma as sweet to her as a 
turkey on Thanksgiving, wafting through the cloying 
artificial scents of his cologne. She could feel his warmth 
from across the room, hear his heart beat as it pushed the 
blood through his veins.

        Oh, the blood!

        She stood up, knowing the picture she presented. A 
beautiful, pale girl with hair as black as a raven's wing 
curled around her unearthly curves, wearing only a thin 
nightie. She could hear his heart speed up as he drank in 
the sight of her.

        "Come here, Chad," she whispered throatily, reaching 
out to him, the Hunger roaring in her ears.

        "Yes," he moaned as he entered her embrace.

        She pulled open his shirt, her cold fingers sliding 
quickly over his skin until his shoulder was bared. Her 
body was like ice next to his heat, but soon she would be 
warm again. Her tongue ran over her eye-teeth, feeling them 
lengthen into fangs... and then she sank them into his hot 
flesh.

        The blood exploded into her mouth, pumped by his too-
generous heart and she drank greedily, feeling it fill her, 
warm her, give her for one brief moment the sensations of 
the flesh that had been lost. She moaned, matching a 
similar moan from Chad, for the vampiric Kiss was 
pleasurable to both.

        Soon, too soon, she felt his heart start to slow. She 
was taking too much from him. She had to stop. But the 
blood, the vitae, the stuff of life, was sweet on her 
tongue and the Hunger was never satisfied. It took all of 
her self-control to release him.

        She stared at the two bleeding holes in his skin, 
feeling for the thousandth time her repugnance and disgust 
at what she had become. Slowly, she leaned over and licked 
the wounds, running her tongue over them. They vanished as 
if they were erased.

        Chad moaned again at the touch of her tongue, but she 
could not stand to be close to him any longer. She pushed 
him away, hating him, hating herself.

        "Thank you, Raye," Chad said, his eyes slightly glazed 
over.

        "Get out," she said.

        He went without a word.

        "'Oh God....'"

*****

        "Where are we going?" Serena shouted as she clung to 
the back of the motorcycle.

        "We're gonna run by a friend's apartment and dress you 
up in something that won't get you killed. I'd take you to 
my place, but I've got roomies with big mouths." Lyta 
roared up the onramp onto I-495, the great loop highway 
around DC, and started cutting through traffic at eighty 
miles an hour. "Ever been to Bethesda?"

        "Nope."

        "I don't go there much, but I've got a friend named 
Raye who can put you up. What the hell were you doing in 
Anarch Territory, anyway?"

        "I didn't know," Serena said quietly. "My mentor 
brought me there. But she's dead now."

        "Shit." Lyta looked back. "Goddamn eighteen-wheelers 
think they own the road."

        "Eh?" Serena looked back and saw an eighteen wheeler 
coming closer and closer, seemingly careless of the 'cycle 
racing along in front of it. There was a guard wall to the 
left, and traffic too thick to cut through to the right of 
them. She could feel the cycle speeding up, but the 
eighteen-wheeler was getting faster as well.

        "Goddam idiots working for Magadon. All their truckers 
drive like fucking psychos. You'd think they were all 
Malkavians or something."

        "Isn't that a cosmetics company?" Serena asked.

        "Yeah. You'd think people working for a makeup company 
wouldn't be nutcases, but..." She shrugged, looked back, 
then frowned. "Dammit, eighteen-wheelers shouldn't be as 
fast as my...shit!"

        They were still boxed in to the right and behind, but 
now they could see the rear lights of the next car ahead of 
them in this lane. It wasn't going fast enough, and soon 
they would hit it.

        "Well, only one way to do this," Lyta said. Hold on 
tight!"

        "What?" Serena paled.

        "DO IT!"

        As best she could, she did so, and then Lyta cut 
between the two lanes of traffic ahead of them, scraping 
the cars on both sides, laughing as they honked at her. 
"Hah! This is why I ride a cycle!" She shot the finger at 
the eighteen-wheeler, then zoomed ahead of a Saturn and 
pulled into the second lane.

        Serena tried to meditate as Luna had taught her. Some 
sense of peace finally came back to her as she relaxed. The 
traffic noises blurred to insignificance, and she turned 
inside herself, trying to understand why her mentor had 
done what she did.

        While some aspects of her clan's philosophy had made 
perfect sense to her, she had never understood why her 
mentor had Embraced her in the first place. Nor did she 
understand why her mentor had brought her here and--

        The full significance of what had happened finally had 
a chance to sink in now, and she began to cry.

        "You okay, kid?" Lyta asked. "Did I smack you into a 
car or something?"

        "I... she... I hadn't really thought about...what 
happened to Luna."

        "Luna?"

        "My mentor. She's dead."

        "That sucks," Lyta said. "How long you been one of 
us?"

        "Five years," Serena said.

        "You been presented to the Prince yet? But shit, I 
guess you wouldn't do that."

        "I don't know why we came here. We just got in town, 
but I think we got off at the wrong Metro stop, and...." 
The tears overwhelmed her. Tiny rivulets of blood rolled 
down her face.

        Lyta reached back and squeezed her hand, then focused 
on driving; best to let the Childe cry. I don't think I've 
ever seen one of us cry, she thought. Not like that. I bet 
she must have been blood bound to her Sire.

        They rode in silence for a while until they came to 
the right exit. Serena had calmed down by then, and Lyta 
said, "You might wanna wipe the blood off your face before 
any mortals see it."

        She did so quietly, then said, "I keep forgetting I 
don't have real tears anymore."

        "Yeah, it's weird adjusting to all that stuff."

        The exit took them into one of the nicer neighborhoods 
of DC, a region known as Bethesda. "Just don't take off 
that headband I gave you," Lyta said. "There's a lot of 
people gunning for you guys."

        Serena nodded mutely. "Thank you very much for helping 
me."

        "No problem." They slowed to a halt at the light. 
"Welcome to the part of DC that is only screwed up behind 
the shiny false front instead of being honest about it. 
Welcome to Bethesda."

*****

        Serena hesitantly followed Lyta as the Anarch strode 
confidently into the apartment complex. She was nervous, 
being around so many people and wished she could be as 
confident as Lyta.

        A young couple, fancily dressed, stared openly at the 
leather-clad biker babe. Serena's mouth fell open as Lyta 
waggled her tongue at them.

        "Hey, looking for a night to remember?" she said, then 
laughed as the couple hurried off.

        "Lyta!" Serena said, scandalized.

        "Oh, don't worry, Serena," Lyta said, lighting another 
cigarette. "I'm just having a little fun. Besides, did you 
see the way the guy looked at me? I'm gonna haveta visit 
him later when I feel like snacking."

        The blonde shuddered. "How can you talk about it so... 
lightly?"

        Lyta looked at her new friend sadly. "I gotta, or 
it'll eat me alive."

        With that, they walked in silence. Finally, Lyta 
stopped before one door and knocked.

        Serena stared at the man who opened it. He was tall 
and gangly, with an unshaven face and an unruly mop of hair 
covering his eyes.

        "Hiya, lick!" Lyta said cheerfully. "I'm here to see 
Raye."

        "She's composing," he said. "She asked not to be 
disturbed."

        "Tough," Lyta said, picking the man up by the neck. 
Serena stared as his feet flailed inches off the ground. 
"We're coming in, ghoul-boy." With that, the brunette 
stomped in, pausing only to toss the man onto the couch.

        The apartment was tastefully decorated, if a bit 
Spartan. Red and black colors predominated. It made Serena 
feel like she was in the midst of a fire, surrounded by red 
flames and charred wood. She also felt... sadness, grief, 
loss, as if it were a scent filling the room. She smelled 
the bright coppery tang of blood.

        And she heard the music.

        It was from a keyboard, the notes wailing with a dark, 
predatory hunger and a sense of loss until they crashed in 
a cacophony as the keyboardist smashed her fingers down in 
anger. Then the only sound was a quiet sobbing.

        Serena was in motion even before the music stopped.

        She entered the next room and found a young girl 
sobbing over an electric keyboard, her head cradled on her 
arms. Hesitantly, Serena touched the girl's shoulder.

*****

        Raye tried to lose herself in the music, to find the 
joy that it once gave her. At one point she had sung about 
the joy in her heart, about the love she felt for God. Her 
singing had moved people to tears and her music had touched 
the hearts of many.

        Including one heart that did not beat.

        The song she was playing stalked the room like an 
angry beast until she could stand it no longer and 
collapsed.

        Now, her heart was cold and her soul was ashes. How 
could she sing of joy when all she felt was the thrill of 
the hunt? How could she compose songs of happiness when all 
she felt was satiation? How could she create when all she 
felt was a void where her soul once lived?

        Then she felt the touch of a hand.

        Snarling, fangs out, she turned on her intruder, going 
for the throat.

*****

        Serena gasped at the feral beauty as the woman turned 
on her, dark hair surrounding her like a cloud. She felt 
the woman's fangs sink into her neck but felt no fear. 
Instead, her arms wrapped around her attacker in an 
embrace.

        "Go ahead," she whispered. "End it."

        Raye tasted the first drops of Kindred blood on her 
tongue and barely stopped herself. It was cold blood, 
lifeless, but it tasted so sweet... and it had power. The 
room seemed to snap into focus, as she tasted the powerful 
blood. For a rash moment she wanted to drink it all up.

        Slowly, she pulled back. "No," she said shakily, more 
to herself than anyone else.

        Serena felt her attacker pull away and then collapsed 
to her knees. Once again, death had been denied her, she 
thought, pulling her mind away from death and back to her 
existence.

        "Geez, Raye," Lyta said from the entrance of the room, 
"no wonder you ain't got many friends."

        Raye blinked at Lyta, confused. "Lyta? What are you 
doing here?"

        "I brought a new friend who needs some help," Lyta 
said, pointing her thumb at Serena.

        Raye focused on the girl she had mindlessly attacked 
and gasped. She was perhaps one of the prettiest girls she 
had ever seen. Not just in looks, but the almost palpable 
aura of innocence. Calling on her vampiric gifts, she saw 
into Serena's soul and it had a beauty to make even her 
heart sing.

        Serena looked back up at her host and found herself 
lost as well. Now that she was composed, Raye looked far 
more regal and imposing than ever. For a moment, Serena was 
glad to be on her knees before this woman.

        "Serena, this is my friend Raye. Raye, the poor girl 
you just frightened to death is -- um, hello?" Lyta waved 
at them both. "Hello, McFly! Yoo hoo!"

        Serena gave a start and looked at the brunette. "Oh, 
Lyta... I... um." She felt blood rushing uncontrollably to 
her cheeks.

        "Beautiful..." Raye said, still lost in her 
appreciation of the clouds of white and pink that she could 
see filling Serena's aura.

        Lyta smacked her forehead. "OK, Raye's lost it... 
again." She turned to Serena. "Don't worry, Raye's of the 
Toreador Clan. They tend to be drawn to things they find 
beautiful like moths to a flame... she'll get over it."

        Serena didn't mind. Perhaps this night wasn't so 
horrible after all. For five years now, the only vampire 
she had known was Luna. Out in the world one night and she 
had met at least one, maybe two, friends who understood 
what it was like to be this way and who could help her. 
Things were looking up.

        Then Raye saw the black, throbbing veins in Serena's 
aura, streaks of ugliness that defiled the purity of the 
whole. "Diabolist!" she hissed, the spell of Serena's 
innocence broken.

        Raye leaped at Serena again; she might be damned 
herself, but never would she sink so low as to steal the 
soul of another vampire. Her fangs came out, though she 
lacked the skills to sprout claws. With a thought, she 
spurred herself to heightened speed through the power of 
the vitae that filled her veins. Time slowed and her senses 
flared to full strength. She could see everything in slow 
motion.

        Lyta was moving at a crawl, though Raye knew Lyta was 
capable of greater speed than she was. Serena, on the other 
hand, wasn't moving at all, except to whimper. Her eyes had 
shut, and she had bared her throat. Again. Did the woman 
want to die?

        She stopped her fangs an inch from Serena's throat. 
And then Lyta grabbed her, pulling her away, gripping her 
with the massive strength she possessed as part of her 
heritage as a Brujah. Raye knew Lyta could snap her arms if 
she felt like it, and there was nothing Rei could do. "STOP 
IT! What the hell is WITH YOU tonight? I thought we Brujah 
were supposed to be the rage queens of the 'rilla, but it's 
looking like you're going for our title!"

        "She's a diabolist! I read her aura!"

        "Aura, schmaura. What I saw was that you've tried 
twice to drink her blood, and she ain't done jack shit to 
stop you! If she was really a diabolist, would she be 
kneeling there, waiting for you to drink HER blood?"

        Raye looked down at Serena, who was crying tears of 
blood and whimpering, though whether it was fear, sadness, 
or both was hard to tell. "Look, just because your clan is 
too busy beating people in the head to learn how to read 
auras doesn't mean they're not real! She's got the black 
marks, Lyta! And you don't get them any other way than 
diablerie!" She must have learned some trick for concealing 
them, Raye thought. And projecting that false front of... 
She stared at Serena. If she was faking it, she faked it 
well. She told me to end it. She...

        "Why do you want to die?" Raye asked quietly, all the 
rage drained out of her again.

        "I had to kill her," Serena said very faintly, her 
eyes still squeezed shut, forming a movie screen where it 
all played out in her mind. "She brought me to DC, and then 
she forced me to kill her. I still don't understand why she 
wanted to die. I tried to stop, but I couldn't. She told me 
this was the way of our clan, but I hate it! It's stupid! 
Why'd she ever make me her Childe if she expected me to 
kill her?"

        The worst part of it was how good it had felt. Her 
mentor's blood had been the sweetest blood she had ever 
tasted, the moment of Luna's final expiration had been the 
most ecstatic of Serena's entire life. And that horrified 
her to the core of her soul. Never again. She didn't want 
to taste the blood of another of her kind ever again. How 
Lyta's friend had been able to hold back once she'd 
started... it made Serena feel weak and dirty. It was no 
wonder Raye had succumbed a second time to the temptation 
when she realized how tainted I am, Serena thought.

        "Way of your clan? What clan are you?" Raye asked. 
Lyta put her down, but kept a grip on her.

        "Salubri," Serena said weakly.

        "A what?" Raye asked.

        "I've heard of them," Lyta said. "They're called 
Cyclops, but they're really rare. Only supposed to be seven 
of them or so. The Warlocks have been gunning for them for 
centuries."

        "Why are they called Cyclops?" Raye asked.

        Serena pulled off her headband and willed her third 
eye to open. As always, her own aura sight went to work as 
she looked through it at her companions. Both of them had 
the normal pale colors of the undead, as opposed to the 
vibrant colors of mortals. Lyta's was mostly a dark purple 
shot with red, but with a few hints of blue here and there. 
Raye's was a bright gold, streaked with an ugly gray that 
Serena wished she could reach out and erase with a brush of 
her hand.

        "Oh my God," Raye said. She had lived in a world of 
the Supernatural for years now, but it still found ways to 
shock her. "Is it real?"

        "Luna... Luna told me it's somehow connected to our 
Discipline of Obeah. As we learn more of the ways of Obeah, 
the Eye manifests. It's not too noticeable when closed, 
but..."

        "Some Sabbat Pack caught her when her control 
slipped," Lyta said. "They thought it'd be fun to 
diablerize her."

                Serena slowly stood up. She turned to Raye and 
said, "I didn't want to do it. I'm sorry. If you want to 
kill me, I'll understand. I just...I've been so lonely." 
She fought back the urge to cry. "I haven't met another one 
of our kind since I was Embraced, and now...Will you be my 
friend? Please?"

        Raye stared at Serena. She truly is an innocent, and I 
nearly -- Why am I so jumpy tonight? I guess I haven't seen 
Darien in too long. Just thinking about him made her feel 
better. And so did looking at Serena, for some reason. "I'm 
sorry I attacked you," she said. "I do want to be your 
friend. I just...I've been really jumpy today and, when I 
saw your aura, I just..." She took a deep breath, even 
though she didn't need it. It was soothing. "You know how 
our kind is."

        "I know," Serena said. "The Beast is always waiting. 
You can let go of her now, Lyta." She turned to Lyta. 
"Thank you for protecting me."

        "No problem. Raye here has always had a bit of a 
temper. I'm starting to think she needs a snack, too."

        "So, what do we do now?" Raye asked.

        "Shit, girl," Lyta said, "I was hoping you had some 
ideas. Can you put her up for a few days?"

        "Lyta! I'm practically the Prince's Consort! If the 
Warlocks are gunning for this clan, I can't hide her in my 
apartment!"

        "Well, ask the Prince to accept her, then! I can't do 
it, and do you think she'd make a good Anarch?"

        Raye looked at Serena and was once again taken with 
this Childe's innocence and humanity. When was the last 
time I cried tears over someone other than myself? she 
thought. I certainly wouldn't waste any on that bastard who 
Embraced me.

        "We'll take her to the Prince," she said. "Darien 
listens to me, sometimes." Please, let this be one of his 
good nights! she prayed to a God she was certain no longer 
listened.

*****

        They left the apartment after cleaning up Serena. 
Bloody tears were harder to clean up after than normal 
ones. Serena followed Raye like a puppy, innocently glad to 
have found another friend.

        "I don't know how well Darien will take you," Raye 
said to the blonde. "He isn't overly fond of surprises. I 
don't know how he will accept a secret clan."

        "Technically, they're a bloodline instead of a clan," 
a soft voice said from nearby. "Their Antediluvian was 
destroyed hundreds of years ago, and only a handful remain, 
passing on their strange tradition by which they study the 
ways of Golconda, then force their Childe to diablerize 
them once they succeed. That's why they were destroyed 
hundreds of years ago, for forcing their childer to commit 
diablerie upon them."

        Serena froze in shock and looked to see who was 
speaking, who knew so much of her clan. It was a young 
woman with short blue-black hair, wearing a sky blue blouse 
and a knee-length pleated dark blue skirt. She wore a light 
jacket, unzipped in front and dark green in color, over the 
blouse, and a silver ring on her right hand. It was a 
plain, unadorned band. There was a man holding her hand; he 
had dark black hair, also cut short but more unruly than 
hers, and he wore a nice dark blue suit. Behind them, in 
the apartment parking lot, stood an idling limousine with 
its doors open.

        "Damn, Amy, you creep me out when you show up and 
answer questions when no one knew you were around," Lyta 
said with a forced laugh.

        Amy laughed. "It's all Greg's fault. We were going to 
go to Elysium, and then he went into one of his trances and 
announced we had to head over to Raye's as fast as we 
could."

        "You know about my clan?" Serena asked faintly. "I 
just...I don't understand why she wanted me to kill her. 
She just said it was her time to pass on."

        "I don't really understand either," Amy said. "The 
eighth volume of the Secret Histories isn't very clear on 
why the Salubri went around committing suicide like that." 
Her voice wavered slightly. "There's a lot of strange stuff 
in the Secret Histories which isn't very clear." Her 
steadiness returned. "I'm Amy Anderson. Nice to meet you. 
And this is Greg Thompson."

        Greg waved. "If you ever need a stockbroker, I'm your 
man. I've got a knack for commodity futures too." He 
laughed very loudly, for no discernable reason.

        "You're one of us too?" Serena asked, confused. His 
aura was so bright, she was sure he couldn't be one of the 
Kindred. He almost shone to her sight, and there was 
something in it she had never seen before: bright sparkles 
of light, like shining stars surrounding him. His aura was 
a strong mix of vermillion and blue which matched the blue 
in Amy's aura, with a few lavender streaks and a touch of 
gold, all of it bright and shiny like that of a mortal.

        "Nope. I'm just a stockbroker with a few lucky 
hunches." He laughed again, and Serena now noticed he wore 
a ring that matched Amy's silver band.

        "Can I talk to you for a moment, Amy?" Raye said, 
pulling her blue-haired friend aside. "What are you doing? 
Are you planning to kill her?"

        Amy met Raye's stare coolly, showing no sign of any 
surprise or anger at the accusation. "Why should I kill 
her, Raye? She's done me no harm."

        "Because Clan Tremere is supposed to be gunning for 
any Salubri they see."

        Amy laughed. "Where did you hear that?"

        "Lyta told me," Raye said hesitantly, suddenly not so 
sure of her source.

        "And Lyta is one of the Brujah philosophers of old, 
now?" Amy laughed again, then suddenly became serious. "As 
it is, she's right. We are supposed to turn in any Salubri 
we find to the Pontifex."

        "So you're not --" Raye did a double-take. "What do 
you mean she's right?"

        "Trust me, Raye," Amy said in a voice suddenly deeper 
and more commanding than her usual tone. Raye let go of her 
friend and Amy walked back to the others.

        "We should get going. The Prince is at the Museum of 
Natural History tonight. It's under Elysium," she said 
kindly to Serena, "so you need not fear any violence 
there." She turned then to the leather-clad Brujah, who was 
eyeing her suspiciously. "You should come too, Lyta," Amy 
said, unflappingly. "For protection."

        "But... you just said it was safe!" Serena said.

        "It is... it's getting in and out of Elysium where one 
must be on their guard," Amy said.

        The drive over was quiet, Serena sitting close to 
Raye, clutching the other girl's arm. Lyta sat in the seat 
facing them, next to Amy, while Greg played chauffeur.

        The Smithsonian Museum of Natural History is, like 
most buildings of its kind, large and imposing, with stone 
columns and frescoes along the front. Given the hour and 
the desirability of not being seen, the limousine pulled up 
to a service door around back.

        "This door will be open," Amy said. "Wait here for a 
moment."

        Amy darted out the door and into the museum before any 
of the others could react.

        "I don't like this," Lyta said. "She could be setting 
us up."

        "I-I don't think so," Serena said. "I trust her."

        "Serena, it's not a good idea to trust many of our 
kind," Raye said, hating to be the one to tell Serena such 
a harsh fact of life.

        "I know," Serena said simply.

*****

        The Pontifex of Clan Tremere in Washington, DC, was 
not pleased to be called away from the Prince's "court," 
especially by such a low-ranking member of his clan. Amy 
Anderson showed much potential, but she was only of the 
First Circle, the low-ranking acolytes. And her Sire was a 
bit of a loose cannon, which did little to enhance her 
standing.

        "Speak, Childe," he said to her, once they were alone. 
His voice spoke volumes about condescension and arrogance.

        Amy ignored it. "Pontifex, I have found a Salubri."

        "What?" Peter Dorfmann was not pleased with this news. 
He valued control. There was no place for unknown variables 
in his plans. Every contingency was meticulously planned 
for. That was how he had reached the rank of Pontifex. But 
this... this was unprecedented.

        "A Cyclops, Pontifex. She is out in my car. She thinks 
I am arranging a meeting with the Prince for her."

        "Show me," he said, pulling out his cell phone. "We 
shall deal with this Salubri."

        Amy did as she was bid.

*****

        Outside, Greg turned and smiled at the others. "You 
better go inside now."

        "Huh? I thought we were waiting for Amy," Serena said.

        "Oh, Raye knows the way, I'm sure," he said.

        Raye gave a start. Of course she did. Why had she let 
Amy go ahead like that?

        "Damn, I must be slipping," she said. "Come with me, 
Serena."

        "I think you better go too, Lyta," Greg said, 
seriously.

        "Who are you?" Serena asked suddenly, wanting to know 
why he, a normal mortal, was so willing to help them.

        "He's actually Caine in disguise. Don't tell anyone." 
A voice whispered into Serena's ear. "He's come to DC to 
check up on his descendants before he passes judgement on 
them."

        Serena jumped. "Who--?"

        A blonde woman stood just behind where Serena had been 
standing. Her eyes were a bright shiny blue, and her hair 
was long, flowing down her back. She wore a dress just like 
the one Serena was wearing, down to the last button. "Hi 
there! I'm Mina. Nice to meet ya!"

        "This is our resident Malkavian," Lyta said. "She 
tends to say crazy things, but it's usually obvious when 
she's either teasing or just nuts."

        "Nice to meet you again for the first time," Mina 
said. "This makes...hmm...several hundred times. More if 
you count doujinshi, I suppose."

        "Let's not have the argument over whether or not we're 
all fictional again, okay?" Raye asked, before turning back 
to Serena. "Don't let her try to get you to wear one of 
those weird sailor suits."

        "They are NOT weird! They were worn by the defenders 
of the First City!"

        Everyone stared at her dubiously.

        "Hrmph. And I'm not a Malkavian. I'm Istarii, wielder 
of the Secret Flame of Anor! Call me Mina the Yellow! Tell 
her, Greg the Dark Blue!" Her clothing changed; now Mina 
was wearing a long yellow robe belted at the waist and a 
huge pointed hat with a wide brim

        "A what?" Serena asked confusedly.

        "Let's all be grateful you don't wield flame, secret 
or not," Lyta said. "Don't mind her when she gets into 
that. Been reading those fantasy books again, Mina?"

        "It's all true, I tell you! We're both wizards, sent 
by the Valar to guide you all against the menace of 
Sauron!"

        Serena boggled. The others were rather more used to 
this.

        "I'm not calling myself Raye the Red no matter how 
much you beg this time," Raye said. "Don't mind her. She's 
just babbling."

        "Well, not entirely," Greg said. "Some people might 
call me a wizard. I can see the future, sometimes. And I do 
a few other tricks."

        "In bed," Mina said, and he turned beet red.

        "That's...uh...one way of putting it," Greg said. 
"Anyway, I can do a little magick, so you could call me a 
wizard, but don't expect me to throw balls of flame and 
lightning around. Which wouldn't be safe anyway. It does 
come in useful at times, though. My magic was how I knew to 
come pick you up, for one thing."

        "You can see the future?" Serena said in awe.

        "Yep. Although I often wish I couldn't; it sometimes 
is pretty ugly. I can see the past too, but that takes some 
work. The future comes to me even when I don't want to go 
looking for it." For a moment, he looked sat, then he 
perked back up. "But it's not all bad, either. Just don't 
go telling people I do magic, okay?"

        "Okay," Serena said, looking around at everyone and 
smiling. "It's nice to meet all of you."

        "And so it begins," Mina said with a voice probably 
intended to sound ominous. "What do you think, Lyta the 
Green? Is Serena the White a fair addition to our company?"

        Greg looked at his watch. "You guys better hurry. 
There's not much time left."

        "Not much time before what?" Serena asked.

        "Before the Nazgul come after us," Mina said. "Come 
along, there's nothing to see here." She was dressed in a 
black suit with a fedora, red tie, and sunglasses now, and 
she began to herd Serena into the building.

        "Aren't you coming?" Raye asked when Greg simply 
leaned against the car.

        "I have to make sure no one sees you coming in who 
isn't supposed to see." He smiled faintly. "And that's a 
fairly short list. Guide them well, Mina the Yellow."

        She smiled and bowed. "Of course." Spinning on her 
heel, she resumed shoving Serena into the building.

        The others followed her, and Raye quickly strode 
forward, taking the lead as they passed through the loading 
bay and into the halls in the rear of the museum largely 
used only by the staff and vampires. "Follow me."

        "What was that about Nazgul?" Serena asked Mina.

        "Well, really, we're more likely to run into some of 
Dorkman's Orcs and Orogs, but it's best to take no 
chances."

        "Orcs?"

        "She probably means the Pontifex's ghouls," Raye said. 
"And if you ever call him Dorkman to his face, you're going 
to regret it, Mina."

        "I won't rest until everyone in this city is calling 
him Dorkman," Mina replied. She took off the sunglasses 
after banging into a door. "They make it look so easy in 
the movies."

        "He's going to ask you to recite the Traditions," Raye 
said. "You do know them, right?"

        "Of course," Serena said, praying the six she'd been 
taught were the ones she was talking about.

        "Then you'll have to stand on your head while reciting 
the national anthem backwards, since this is DC," Mina 
said.

        "No you won't," Lyta said. "The Prince is cranky 
sometimes, but he's not a Malkavian."

        "I keep telling you these Malkavians are just myths," 
Mina said. "I'm certainly not one."

        "Whatever," Lyta said.

        Raye stopped at the service elevator and punched a 
button. They rode up to the second floor, and headed 
towards the sound of the voices. "Welcome to Elysium, 
Serena," she said.

*****

        Greg was unconscious when Dorfmann and Amy arrived. 
There were no obvious signs of injury, and his breathing 
was regular. Ami quickly established that he was simply 
asleep.

        Dorfmann quickly shook the man awake. While he did so, 
he said to Amy, "You left the Salubri unguarded?"

        "She was supposed to wait here. As I told you, she 
didn't expect any trouble, or she wouldn't have come with 
me in the first place. I certainly couldn't have overcome 
her in combat. Nor do I possess a horde of ghouls capable 
of such."

        "Just your stockbroker," Dorfmann replied. "Wake him."

        Amy gently shook Greg until he opened his eyes. A look 
of confusion crossed his face. "Hey, where did everyone 
go?"

        Dorfmann stared into his eyes intently for a few 
seconds, then grunted with displeasure. "What did you see?"

        Greg blinked. "See? What?" He looked around. "Should I 
have seen something?"

        "Enough of this," Dorfmann said. "I will alert the 
rest of our Chantry to keep an eye out for the Salubri. At 
least now we know she is in the city."

        Amy nodded. "Anything you would like me to do?"

        "I expect a report on her by Friday. Every little 
detail you can remember."

        "Yes sir."

        She waited until his back was turned to smile.

*******

        Serena tried not to goggle as they made their way 
through the back ways of the museum. Old exhibits and 
crates were stacked high, filling every available space. It 
created a maze of narrow, cavernous passages. The crates 
bore strange notations and the stamps of exotic ports of 
call. She found herself trying to imagine what they held.

        Raye led them confidently through the maze. Mina 
walked alongside Serena, nattering on about this and that 
until Serena quite lost the thread of the conversation. 
Fortunately, Mina didn't seem to require much participation 
from her. In fact, she seemed to be carrying on three 
different parts in the talk.

        Lyta came up behind them, shaking her head at the 
Malkavian's antics.

        "--so then I told her that the Lance of Longinus was 
actually an alien artifact. No! Get out of here! Yes. It 
was left here by the Angels to test mankind. So what did 
she do? Well, what could she do? And you, Serena, were only 
a child, and your father was in Antarctic, preparing for 
Adam's coming. And she was married of course. He was 
totally wrong for her, but she loved him. It was romantic! 
It was disgusting. And then--"

        "Give her a break, Mina," Lyta said, laying a hand on 
Mina's head.

        Mina's face went child-like. "What should I break?"

        Lyta sighed. "It's an expression, kook."

        "I told you, I am not a Malkavian. I'm a Ravnos!"

        Lyta made a face at the mention of qypsy-like 
vampires. "That's an improvement?"

        "Sure it is! It means I'm not insane."

        "Luna told me that Ravnos lied all the time," Serena 
said innocently.

        Mina cocked her head to one side. "So, if I'm a 
Ravnos, I'm a liar... and therefore not a Ravnos. But if 
I'm not, then I'm telling the truth and I AM a Ravnos... 
but then I'm a liar, so..."

        She began to ramble on in that manner, her logic 
following its circular path over and over again. Lyta and 
Raye looked at Serena in amazement.

        "Damn, girl, you out-kooked a Kook," Lyta said.

        Serena blushed and held one hand behind her neck in a 
curiously bashful manner. "Luna used to love riddles," she 
began to explain, then her face clouded over in pain and 
blood-tears began to fall.

        Raye felt something stir in her, something she had 
rarely felt since that horrible night which had swallowed 
all her days. Her hand reached out and touched Serena's 
shoulder.

        Serena looked up at the raven-haired girl and managed 
a small smile. Her hand reached up to gently cover Raye's. 
Their eyes met for one long moment.

        "I've got it! I'm an insane Ravnos!"

        Lyta rolled her eyes as Mina broke the mood. "And 
how's THAT supposed to be an improvement over a Malkavian?"

        "I keep telling you, these 'Malkavians' are a myth!"

        Serena began to giggle and Raye, to her complete 
surprise, joined her.

*****

        Darien, Prince of DC, was not a happy man. Some would 
say he failed both criteria for that description... but not 
aloud if they valued their existence.

        By all accounts he should be happy. He was the Prince 
of one of the most influential cities in the world. The 
trappings of wealth and power surrounded him. He was 
immortal and would only grow more powerful with time.

        Yet it was for all these reasons--and more--that he 
was not happy.

        To be a vampire meant losing a part of yourself to the 
predator. Vampires were beasts of prey, despite romantic 
notions to the contrary. And as time went on, the Beast 
could gain ascendancy over the Man.

        And lately, that problem was weighing heavily on the 
Prince's mind.

        * Monsters we are, lest monsters we become. * The 
words to the Riddle of vampiric life ran through his mind. 
Raye was the only one who could jolly him out of one of his 
moods... but even her singing was proving less and less 
effective these days.

        Still, the sight of her entering the Hall of Dinosaurs 
was almost enough to make his heart skip a beat... if it 
still beat at all, he thought sourly.

        "Raye," he began warmly... and then stopped. Behind 
his songbird came a beautiful blonde he did not recognize, 
along with that annoying Malkavian who kept insisting he 
wear a tuxedo and a mask. And then that Anarch who liked to 
think she was a thorn in his side.

        "Darien, we have a problem," Raye said. Then she 
stopped. How was she going to explain this?

        Mina took one problem out of her hands. Without 
warning, the Malkavian dragged Serena up to the Prince and 
shoved them together. "Oh," she said, sobbing, "isn't 
wonderful to see two lovers reunited?" She pulled out an 
entirely unnecessary handkerchief and blew her nose loudly.

        Darien looked with surprise at the tiny girl in his 
arms. He felt awkward next to her, as if he was the one who 
was too large and she was perfect.

        Serena looked sadly at the man before her. He was so 
handsome and strong... and yet incomplete. She reached up, 
not knowing why, and caressed his cheek. Then she looked on 
his soul.

        Darien watched in horror as the girl's headband fell 
away and a third eye opened on her forehead. The strange 
eye glowed with a silvery light--

        --blood, pools of it, the ocean is blood, darkness 
over all, no stars, no sun, the girl, standing alone, 
darkness swallowing all, her white dress the only 
brightness, arms lifted in supplication, to HIM, leading 
the darkness, turning, sword flashing, slowly, everything 
slows down, others fight beside him, Raye, surrounded by 
flames, the girl crying out, the MOON--

        --and then the eye closed and Darien threw the girl 
away from him.

        "A Soulstealer! Raye, what were you thinking?" Darien 
raged, his Beast inflamed by this betrayal.

        "I-it's not like that, Darien," Raye stammered. "She's 
not evil. Look at her aura!"

        Despite his rage, Darien did so, but what his sight 
revealed did not improve his mood.

        "A diabolist, too! Raye, you know the Traditions. She 
must die!"

        Serena bowed her head. Once again it seemed that Fate 
offered with one hand only too snatch it back in the other. 
She was too tired now to care where the roller coaster took 
her next. She honestly wanted it to just end.

        "I can't agree more, my Prince," Pontifex Dorfmann 
said from the door. Though outwardly calm, the Pontifex was 
seething. Somehow, the Salubri had slipped through Clan 
Tremere's fingers and was now on display in the Prince's 
Court. He wanted to turn towards Amy, see her reaction to 
this, but he dared not take his gaze from the Prince.

        "Darien, no! Please, hear her out!" Raye pleaded. 
"She's no danger, I swear!"

        Everyone, including Serena, looked at the singer in 
amazement. Raye herself was shocked at how desperately she 
sought to save the blonde's life. But she didn't waver 
before her Prince.

        Darien paused to consider, apparently moved by Raye's 
impassioned plea. Nothing could be further than the truth, 
however. The only thing stopping Darien from carrying out 
his sentence was that Dorfmann wanted it. Or was Dorfmann 
simply trying to make Darien THINK he wanted the Salubri 
dead? Nothing was simple in Elysium.

        "The Salubri must die, my Prince," Dorfmann continued. 
"She is probably controlling your... 'consort's' mind 
through her insidious tricks."

        "That's fucking bullshit!" Lyta exploded.

        "Silence, whelp, before I forget Elysium!" Dorfmann 
thundered, utterly failing to impress the Anarch.

        Mina began to dance around the group, singing:

        "Ring around the rosies,
         Pockets full of posies.
         Ashes, ashes,
         We all fall down!"

        "Make me!" Lyta retorted, raising her fists.

        "'Round and 'round the umbra-y-bush
         The Lupines chased the wyrmie,
         The Lupines thought 'twas all their fun,
         POP! Goes the wyrmie."

        "My Prince, will you let such a blatant show--"

        "Darien, please--"

        "When Cainey comes marching home again,
         Hurrah! Hurrah!
         He'll give us a painful spanking then,
         Hurrah! Hurrah!
         One will gone, One will be dead,
         The world ending we all will dread,
         And then we'll be dead,
         When Cainey comes marching home!"

        "Enough!"

        Serena's voice cut through the shouting, punctuated by 
her sobs. She turned to Darien, her eyes red though she had 
no more tears to shed.

        "Please," she begged. "End it. I have nothing to live 
for, anyway."

        Darien studied her intently, waving them all to 
silence with such an air of command that even Mina was 
silent. She seemed sincere, but....

        He came to a decision. Dorfmann would not be pleased, 
but he wouldn't be entirely unhappy either.

        "Raye," he said softly, getting the vampiress's 
attention. "You are not under any 'influence', correct?"

        "Of course not!"

        "And you are loyal to me, are you not?"

        "O-of course," Raye stammered, uncertain where he was 
going with this. "Darien, what--"

        He silenced her by placing something in her hand. 
"Show the Pontifex your loyalty."

        Raye stared at the object and opened her mouth to 
object, but couldn't force the words out under his gaze. 
Instead, she turned towards her new friend.

        Serena watched as her new friend came closer. 
Anguished violet eyes met calm, forgiving blue ones.

        Then Raye plunged the stake into Serena's heart.

*****

        Thomas Taylor was not one of those people who enjoyed 
going out in the rain, but he had no choice. Dr. Price had 
told him to deliver the books tonight, come hell or high 
water. So, he drove his Corolla through the howling rain to 
the fair land known as Bethesda. He pulled into the 
driveway arc in front of the building, and the doorman, who 
knew him well, came out to his car.

        "You're crazy driving in this weather, you know," said 
the doorman, a tall, beefy fellow, dressed in a blue 
uniform.

        "Not much choice. Can you help me with this case?" 
Thomas asked.

        "No problem." He and Thomas went to the trunk, and 
Thomas unlocked it. Inside it sat an old steamer trunk, 
locked with a rather more modern padlock. The doorman 
looked at it. "I'd better go get you a cart." He swiftly 
got one from the lobby, then said, "At the rate you bring 
him books, I'd think the professor wouldn't have any room 
for himself."

        "I think he sells about half of them, usually, once 
he's read them." Thomas grabbed the handle on one end of 
the trunk, while the doorman grabbed the other.

        "You sure you can handle this?" The doorman had seen a 
lot of foolish people throw out their backs in his time.

        "I'll be fine," Thomas said. "Carrying books gives you 
a workout." The doorman looked at him dubiously. "Don't 
worry about me."

        They lifted the trunk, and Thomas didn't put his back 
out, although he did visibly strain. Quickly the trunk was 
settled onto the cart. "Thanks, Henderson," Thomas said.

        "You're welcome," the doorman said.

        Thomas gave him the car keys, and he took the car to 
park in the parking garage while Thomas trundled the cart 
inside.

***********

        Thomas knocked on Dr. Price's door, then pushed the 
talk button on the intercom and said, "It's me, Professor." 
There was a pause, and then the faint buzz as the door 
unlocked.

        He shoved the door open and trundled the books into 
the living room, then shut the door behind him with one 
foot. "Should I bring the books into your study?" he 
shouted.

        To his surprise, a woman came out of the Professor's 
study. She wore a long aqua-green dress that looked rather 
archaic; she would have made a good Gone With the Wind 
extra. He hair was permed and piled on top of her head in 
massive black curls and tied in place with several 
aquamarine ribbons. She moved gracefully, and she had a 
warm smile of the sort he wasn't used to getting from 
women. She wore a strange necklace of silver, with a 
crescent moon, a hammer and sickle, a cross, a star of 
David, and an ankh all hanging from it. "You must be 
Thomas."

        "Uh, yeah. And you are?"

        She curtsied, much to his surprise. "I am Annabelle 
Mitchell, an old friend and sometimes professional 
associate of Richard's."

        Thomas' eyes widened. No one but the Prince or the 
Tremere Pontifex ever referred to Dr. Price by his first 
name. Everyone else, even the Toreador Primogen who 
disliked him called him 'Dr. Price'. Wait, maybe she's his 
sire or something, Thomas thought. Thomas had no idea who 
had sired his boss; Dr. Price didn't seem to want to talk 
much about his personal past. "As in 'very old' friend?"

        "Exactly," she said, smiling. "Let me help you with 
that."

        That extremely surprised him, as 'very old friends' of 
Dr. Price weren't exactly noted for helping out flunkies, 
but he was the sort of person who never turned down help. 
With two people moving the cart, it practically flew into 
the study.

        Dr. Price was seated at his desk, with his large plush 
chair turned to face the bookshelves that lined the far 
wall instead of the door. A single pale, withered hand 
could be seen, sticking out of a sleeve of the dark navy 
suits he favored. The hand plucked a book off the shelf, 
then vanished behind the chair.

        "You shouldn't read in the dark, you'll get 
eyestrain," Thomas said, flicking the wall switch by the 
door and turning on the ceiling lamp.

        "I can't get eyestrain," Dr. Price said. "My eyesight 
will never go bad. My hair will never grow. And I'm stuck 
with this damn ulcer forever." The chair spun about, and he 
paused to adjust his jacket. Nothing ever quite fit him 
right, but he was too much of a skinflint to get his suits 
adjusted. "Did you bring the books?"

        Thomas glanced over at Annabelle. "Should I..."

        Dr. Price snarled. "She wouldn't be here if she 
couldn't know, boy. Do you think I'm getting senile so that 
I didn't remember you were coming?"

        Annabelle laughed. "Truly powerful feats require 
multiple people. Hasn't he taught you that?"

        I thought he was training me to do that, Thomas 
thought a little petulantly. Not bring in some other 
person. He felt a pang of jealousy, and tamped it down. 
Wizards have no room for jealousy, he thought. Precept 
twelve. Or was it thirteen? "Yes, he has. But he also told 
me not to show these books to anyone else, not 
even...anyone else." Best not to announce he's hiding 
things from the Pontifex, Thomas thought. "So where are you 
from?"

        "Georgia," Annabelle said. "I'm Dr. Price's 'sister', 
so to speak."

        "You can trust her as you do me," Dr. Price said. 
"Now, show me the books. These are the ones from the 
Worcester estate, correct?"

        "Yes," Thomas said, getting down on his knees and 
unlocking the trunk with the key he'd hidden in his shoe. 
"Unfortunately, 'Slim' outbid me for four of the ones you 
wanted, so now Hall has them, I'd assume." He extracted the 
topmost book, which was simply labeled 'Commonplace Book' 
in gold letters. He put it down on the desk and opened it 
to the first page, on which had been written 'Property of 
Ezekiel Mather'. "I got six of these, three more books of 
laboratory notes, a copy of _The Twelve Signs_, three 
eighteenth century printings of various Hermetic texts, the 
annotated Shakespeare folio, and the 'diary full of 
deranged ramblings'. Unfortunately, he got _The Worm That 
Gnaws_, the alleged diary of John Dee, _Carnival of the 
Carnifax_, and the last of the commonplace books. But I 
found something stuck in the Shakespeare folio."

        He dug down and took out the folio, then opened it to 
"The Tempest". Three smaller pages had been stitched 
together and stuck into the book three pages into the play. 
He took those out and laid them on the table. "I can't read 
most of this, but the opening here is in Latin, 'The 
Prophecy of the Silver Moon'. It looks like it's written in 
Enochian, but I haven't learned enough to be able to 
understand it, other than something about 'the hand of 
Baal' down here on the second page. The terrible 
handwriting doesn't help."

        Dr. Price laughed hollowly. "Wonderful. I've been 
looking for this for a long time." He took it with one of 
his rare bursts of speed, then said, "Good work, Thomas." 
He put it in the inbox. "Well, I can pour over these later. 
But I have another request for you, Thomas."

        "Certainly!" he said enthusiastically, then paused. "I 
won't have to go out in the rain for it, will I?" he asked. 
"The weather has been horrible the last three nights."

        "Abnormally horrible," Dr. Price said. "And unnatural, 
I think. The weather was supposed to be clear and sunny the 
last three days, but we suddenly got a horrible storm in 
the middle of the night that brewed up from nowhere in 
minutes. I want you to demonstrate your talents for 
Annabelle by summoning up an imp and asking it what's going 
on."

        His eyes widened. "But you keep telling me I'm not 
ready for that."

        "We all have to start sometime. And we'll be here to 
keep it from getting out of hand. But if you really think 
you're not ready..." Price glanced over at Annabelle.

        "I can do it," Thomas said firmly. He went over to the 
bookshelf and took the book he would want for the rite. 
"Okay, let's go."

        They followed him to the room that had been converted 
into a ritual chamber by removing the carpet and covering 
the walls with various arcane runes of protection. He spent 
a few minutes carefully chalking a small pentagram into the 
floor, then set up the book on its stand.

        Annabelle and Dr. Price took up positions on either 
side of the door while he lit candles on long bronze 
candleholders at each of the five points of the star. Once 
they were lit, he turned to page forty-two and paused to 
muster his strength. Can't afford to botch this up, he 
thought.

        The words ran differently than he remembered them, so 
he took extra care to pronounce each of the strange phrases 
correctly. For a moment, he feared he was reading off the 
wrong spell and some disaster was going to result, but the 
title of the spell read 'A spell for the summoning of ye 
minor imp of knowledge', just as he expected it to.

        As he approached the end, he felt the hair on his arms 
begin to stand up, just as it always did when Dr. Price 
performed rites of summoning. His skin began to crawl, and 
inside the circle, the air wavered as if massive amounts of 
heat were radiating off the floor. The wavering darkened 
and became a hairless monkey with wrinkled skin and small 
bat wings. Its tongue constantly flickered in and out, long 
and narrow, tapering to a sharp edge at its tip. It threw 
itself at the edges of the pentagram, but the lines of 
chalk flared, driving it back. It cursed in Enochian, then 
turned to Thomas. "How humiliating to be summoned by a 
slave."

        "I am not a slave! I'm his apprentice!" Thomas said 
proudly. "And now you're my slave. You must answer three 
questions before I will release you."

        It looked at him, then at Dr. Price, then at 
Annabelle, then grinned, revealing blood-red teeth. Its 
tail whipped about to scratch its back just between its 
wings. "One from each of you?"

        "Yes," Dr. Price said.

        The imp laughed loudly. "Who's first?"

        "I am," Dr. Price said. "Does this storm herald the 
coming of the Daughter of Darkness to our city?"

        "No." The imp laughed.

        "You should have asked him what caused the storm," 
Annabelle snapped at Dr. Price.

        "Is that your question?" the imp asked.

        "Yes, it is."

        "Even the nightmares of those who possess the cursed 
blood of Caine have power. Still, the storm will pass soon, 
for she has yet to come into most of her potential power."

        "Is she the one we're looking for?" Annabelle asked 
desperately.

        The imp waggled a finger. "Naughty, naughty, you had 
your question. Your turn boy, and you'd best ask well if 
you want to live."

        Thomas' eyes opened wide, then he calmed down. It's 
just trying to trick me; imps are like that. "I'm in no 
danger of death."

        The imp laughed. "They always think that before they 
come down to play with us." He scratched his back with his 
tail again. "Though perhaps I misread their intentions. 
Ask, and ask swiftly."

        "Don't play games with me, imp," Annabelle said. "You 
must..."

        "You must shut up," the imp said. "So, boy, ask your 
question."

        "Ask him if she's the one Annabelle and I have been 
looking for," Dr. Price said.

        "Is she the one Dr. Price and Annabelle have been 
looking for?" Thomas asked.

        "You'll have to be more specific," the imp said. "I 
hardly know who that would be?"

        "Is she the childe of the moon?" Dr. Price asked.

        "Is she the childe of the moon?" Thomas asked, 
wondering what that was.

        "Yes, she is the childe of Luna," the imp said. "Well, 
boy, you had your chance. It's not too late to sell me your 
soul so I can save your butt, though."

        Thomas laughed. "I think not. Begone to the sixth 
abyss!" He made the sign of ending and the imp vanished.

        "Impressive," Annabelle said. "And you'd never done 
this before?"

        "My master has taught me well," Thomas said, carefully 
not mentioning Dr. Prices other apprentices who had died 
horribly after summoning things they could not put down, 
while he extinguished the candles.

        "Well, that's enough for one night," Dr. Price said. 
"I suggest you go home and get some sleep. I will be busy 
tonight with Annabelle and with reading."

        Thomas felt disappointed and another surge of 
jealousy, which he tamped down. They're 'siblings', he 
thought. I can't come between that, but... "No lesson 
tonight?"

        "Not tonight. I have much work to do. But you have 
served me well."

        "Now, now, should we send him out into the rain like 
that?" Annabelle said. "There is the extra guest room, 
after all."

        No, I think it best we be undisturbed," Dr. Price said 
firmly.

        She looked confused for a moment, then smiled again. 
"Nice to meet you, Thomas."

        He bowed. "Do you want me to finish cleaning up here?"

        "No, leave it for now," Dr. Price said.

        That also surprised Thomas, but he was used to his 
master having strange whims. "Goodnight."

        Once he was gone and the front door locked, Annabelle 
said to Dr. Price, "I thought we had planned to kill him."

        "I'm changing the plan," Dr. Price said. "If the 
moon's childe is really here, we'll need a cover identity 
where we can move about Camarilla society as well as our 
own."

        Annabelle's eyes widened slightly. "I'm going to have 
to wear this wretched outfit in public? And keep this 
hideous accent?"

        "At least you get to keep your own sex," Dr. Price 
said, hands on his hips.

        "Oh, I thought you people were 'above such petty 
matters as sex'?" she asked irritatedly.

        "And I thought you would 'do anything for your art'?" 
Price sounded more amused than angry.

        "This isn't art. This is the fashion equivalent of a 
refrigerator picture," Annabelle replied. "Maybe it was in 
style a hundred and fifty years ago, but we aren't that old 
yet."

        "You're the one who decided to dress like that."

        "Can you at least put my hair back to the right color 
while we're alone?" Annabelle asked.

        "That IS your natural hair color. The other one is the 
fake."

        "It reminds me too much of...the past." She stared 
over at the mirror by the door, which reflected Dr. Price, 
but not herself. "That has to go." She turned back to Dr. 
Price. "I absolutely won't wear this to hunt."

        "Oh, we should hunt as our true selves. I'm sure Price 
has some boring way of getting blood. Luckily, he's a bit 
of a recluse, so we can spend most of our time as 
ourselves, and just put on these masks when we must move 
among the fools of the Camarilla," Price said. "I'll make 
you a nice new hunting outfit from Price before we 
diablerize him."

        "We SHOULD have killed him before the boy showed up," 
Annabelle replied. "Now, give me my hair and face back."

        Price altered himself first, his hands moving across 
his hair, which turned from gray and balding to blonde and 
full, then across his face, which became younger and more 
angular, with a paler, more even complexion. His eyes 
closed, and he grew a little taller and thinner, ceasing to 
limp. An androgynous woman in an even more ill-fitting suit 
now stood before Annabelle. "Did I miss anything?"

        "The tattoo on your forehead that says 'softie'?" 
Annabelle replied. "Hurry up, Erica." She started to shuck 
off the elaborate dress, which was a slow, complicated 
process.

        "You know, only superheroes wear their alternate 
identity's clothing under their mundane outfit, Michelle," 
Erica said, reaching over and running her fingers through 
Annabelle's hair. An aqua-green tint spread through it in 
their wake.

        Michelle had to stop undressing while Erica's fingers 
reshaped her face subtly. It hurt a little, although she'd 
grown used to it. "You know I like feeling one of your 
creations next to my skin," she purred.  Beneath the southern 
belle outfit, she was wearing tight leather pants with 
stitches up the side and a small leather bustier that left 
her shoulders and belly bare. "Let's go finish off Price. 
And I still think this is a mistake."

        "Susanna will agree with me," Erica said.

        Michelle sighed. She probably would. The woman always 
preferred the overly sneaky approach. "I'll go call her 
while you flay Price. But don't finish him off before I 
come back."

        "A proper flaying takes time," Erica said. "Don't 
worry, you'll get your half of what's left of him. Plus, I 
need to go get out of this monkey suit." She leaned over 
and kissed Michelle on the cheek. "Should I wear the red 
cape tonight?"

        "I need to wallow in blood to get this stink of fake 
southern gentility off me. Better wear all red."

        Erica smiled, showing her fangs. "Just remember to 
make sure they're not drunk or on drugs this time, 
alright?"

        "Of course," Michelle said. "Go get dressed while I 
call her."

        Erica went and changed into a much better fitting 
suit, although the old style was likely to get some stares, 
though not as many as the long red cape. When she went into 
Price's bedroom, where he was still crucified upside on the 
wall with a gag in his mouth, she stopped to turn the 
lights back on. Flaying in the dark tended to ruin half the 
skin.

        She pulled out the gag. "I'm going to flay you alive 
now, you demon serving bastard. Any last words?"

        He screamed loudly for help, and she laughed.

        "Shouldn't have soundproofed your apartment to keep 
people from hearing the screams of your human sacrifices, 
Doc. You don't mind if I call you that, do I?"

        "The demons serve me, you fool." He looked her up and 
down. "I can't believe any self-respecting Kindred would 
dress like a refugee from a bad vampire movie."

        Erica spat in his face. "You're in no position to hand 
out insults, Price." She paused and her fingernails grew 
out into four-inch long blades. She began slicing off his 
clothing. A single bead of bloodsweat ran down his brow, 
and she paused to wipe it away, then licked it off her 
fingers. "Any last words, Mr. Wizard?"

        "Yuil kor rytha!" he shouted, but nothing happened.

        "Tsk, tsk," she said. You cannot hurt me, for my heart 
is pure, and God favors my task." She cut off what was left 
of his jacket, then sliced the shirt open.

        "God favors your task?" he asked in disbelief. "Your 
entire mad diablerist cult slaughters the kine in droves 
and treats humanity with utter contempt, embracing our 
curse, and you claim God favors you?"

        "I don't debate theology with food." Erica cut off 
Price's pants, ignoring his sudden expression of fear. 
"There are far worse things in the night than us, things 
like your masters."

        "I do not serve the beings beyond the wall of night!" 
Price protested. "I have not taken the unspeakable oath or 
pronounced the six forbidden names!"

        "Really? Should have read the fine print. Well, enough 
of this chatting. I believe this is where you start 
screaming." The claws grew an extra inch, and then she 
castrated him.

        By the time he passed out, she was wishing she'd taken 
him off the wall first, as she couldn't reach the skin on 
his back.

        Michelle came in. "Susanna is coming."

        "Good," Erica said, distractedly, eyeing her work in 
frustration.

        Michelle's eyes roved over the partially flayed figure 
on the wall. "Oh, my," she said, her tongue darting out to 
lick her lips. "He looks delicious."

        "Help me get him off the wall." She shook her head. 
"I have to admit I'm impressed. He howled in pain, but he 
was defiant to the end and never begged for mercy."

        "I'm glad I didn't miss anything fun, then," Michelle 
said. She yanked on one of the spikes. "You did too good a 
job."

        "Dammit, not again. I don't want this guy's half-
skinned corpse watching me sleep. Susanna's gonnna laugh at 
us."

        Michelle sidled closer. "Really? I like it... makes me 
feel all... naughty." She bit Erica's ear, drawing a few 
drops of blood.

        Erica laughed. "You just want a new jacket, don't you? 
Trying to sweet talk me into making one?"

        Michelle smiled, showing her fangs. "Camarilla leather 
feels so *good.*"

        Erica took the flayed skin in her hands and 
concentrated. It writhed suddenly, as if trying to escape, 
and blood ran through her fingers. Slowly, the skin 
darkened and reformed, becoming a leather jacket the color 
of dried blood. "How's that?"

        Michelle squealed and pressed the leather to her 
cheek. "It's still pulsing with his power.... I love it!"

        "Just let me kill this guy, and we can go find some 
humans to play with."

        Michelle pouted. "I want to eat him."

        "You got the last one." Erica stared at Michelle's 
still pouting face and sighed. "If you let me drink this 
one, I'll let you bring back some children, OK?"

        "Oh, good. They're so... tender."

        Soon, the only sounds filling the room were muffled 
screams and the soft sucking sound of a vampire drinking.


END PART ONE