Friday, March 1 (Early Morning)

I begin to reconsider the wisdom of relying on Network Zero for information.

This evening has been eventful, as many of the rest. Guillermo has joined our dysfunctional little family, to keep our numbers consistent after Agnes left us. He seems fairly competent, but I will wait and see how it goes later on.

We decided on investigating a shadowy vision near a wearhouse. Arriving at the wearhouse, we all walked inside - and promptly walked into Bob Barker's version of hell.

To summarize quickly, it was a version of a game show, in which many of us were forced to relive turning points in our lives - and all for the benefit of a Host, as well as Birkin, who was keeping Ilsa captive. Max had to fight some mages who, from what I gathered, massacred a group of  people he knew. Chronos had to prevent Chernobyl's destruction, while Nadya had to stop being beaten by someone (which culminated in an apartment building catching on fire). Guillermo...had to consider how to handle all the women he'd loved and left over the years.

I...well, I had to relive my first encounter with the supernatural, which I had figured. When my scenario presented itself, Viviana was already feeding on Alex. I had a split second to consider how to resolve my conflicts with my past. Would I try to shoot Viviana? Would I push her off Alex and give him a chance to run?

I drew my revolver...and shot Alex in the head.

In doing so, I ended Alex's fear and pain, provided Viviana sustenance, and cemented my acceptance of how I am today. I serenely holstered my revolver and looked up at Birkin.

"I have no issues with where I am in my life."

I had the satisfaction of seeing William Birkin briefly taken aback. I smirked and then looked to the Host, asking him if I might take my seat again. He acquiesced.

In between each scenario, the entire space darkened. During one of these breaks, we heard Marcus enter. He granted us Ilsa's sword and told us that when things started to break down, we needed to be able to move.

Finally, we saw Rose's scenario. An apparently locked away memory, showing her father's connection to the supernatural. Before we were able to learn more, Marcus enacted his plan.

He broke much of the illusion and kept Birkin busy while we freed Ilsa and took down the Host. Oliver shot spectacularly, bringing the bastard of an angel down. Max forcibly carried Ilsa out as we exited through a portal to get outside. Another rip in the ground with the bodies of the dead (and a catatonic Nadya) later, we were on our way home. Max, Guillermo, and I returned Ilsa to the Purcell manor.

Additionally, my blood has...changed. It is hard to describe, but I feel...different. More confident, more strategizing. I suppose I will see what unfolds in the future.

Thursday, February 27 (Not long before Midnight)

A veritable roller coaster of a night, this evening.

First, I met with Vincent. I made a point of mentioning this Giovanni to him, especially when he mentioned that the Giovannis were dangerous and that two had already been removed. I explained what we had seen (the hanging bodies and the blood collection containers) and how quickly the Kindred we encountered was able to neutralize Max.

Acquiring all of the necessary information, Vincent sent a team to investigate it. He also mentioned that, should it turn up something good, I will be put in a splendid light. I actually had not considered it, but I know that I can use it to my advantage. We also discussed my joining the Carthians.

Simply enough, I am a Carthian now.

Next, I made my way to Marcus's, skirting the house and heading back onto the boat. We discussed his affairs, briefly, before launching into the subject of the discussion - Agnes.

It seems as though her desire, and her promise to try, to remain with the team was - I do not like the word "hollow" for this, as it sounds too cruel - perhaps more appeasing than sincere. She has chosen to undergo proper training from the Consilium, as most of her skill with magic was self-taught. This means that she will no longer be part of the team, nor will she be going out into the field.

It was a blow, but a softened one. On one hand, she will be kept busy with whatever training becoming a proper mage no doubt requires. On the other, she will still be around.

He said something that confused me, though, and it made me wonder.

"You were the only one who was allowed to get close to her."

I thought back through our interactions since she discovered that I knew her secret. Hostility at the first, then a sort of resignation. It wasn't until that business with the artifact's destruction that I saw how vulnerable she truly was (unless, of course, it was another layer to hide behind, but rather than continue to be paranoid, I will work with my assumptions).

I am not at all certain that she had ever had anyone fight that hard for her for anything. Her first mentor, all that time ago, may have fought to keep her as his, but that could hardly be considered the same. I don't want her to stay as property, I just simply want her to stay. I was logical, I was persuasive, I was comforting all in turns when I needed to be.

It clearly wasn't enough.

Before I left Marcus, I made certain that he would make sure she remained safe. Given her track record with other Consilii, I wanted to be sure. He assured me that all would be well, that he was far less of a monster than his maker was. I nodded, thanked him, and left.

Now I am home, sitting in my office. While the sounds of Basie, Coltrane, and Ellington fill the room, I am simultaneously penning my thoughts and restructuring roles in Ultor, now that one of my main players is out of commission. All told, I believe that I have won a fairly substantial victory and suffered only a minor setback.

*the above was penned with a resigned hand, the following is more resolute ((consider John Hancock's signature on the Declaration of Independence))*

I am Geralt Dessalines, a Texan Ventrue. I am stubborn, I am driven, and I have nothing but time.

Thursday, February 27 (Early Morning Rambling #2)

Dictated to phone, very faint car sounds in the background...

I should have said something sooner, I know. Before my Embrace, I was useless - a human playing at understanding the supernatural. After, it was already too late, another had beat me to it. Nevermind that I had no right to say anything since my curse makes me an unsavory companion to most.

I should have listened more closely to Viviana: "You must relax, and shed this whole life you once had. It is gone. Things are different, now. And they will not go back."

Apparently, there is some part of Gavin still within me. I wonder if it would be best to tamp that down...

...or snuff it out.

Thursday, February 27 (Early Morning Rambling #1)

Dictated to phone, very faint car sounds in the background....

This seemingly revolving door of people will continue to make it impossible to instill any sort of discipline into this team. I am not certain how well I will be able to continue leading them (if leading them is what I am actually doing). I am patient, but patience only goes so far.

Wednesday, February 26

Dictated to phone, very faint car sounds in the background...

I have eternity to develop many skills, but I feel as if I have but minutes to develop patience...

...and quite possibly hours for a hardened heart.

At the beginning, I brought Max up to speed of recent events. Chronos brought a new person into our meeting, a woman named Rose Alexander. A mortal, who at the beginning had a very vague understanding of the supernatural, Max woke her up very violently. That being said, she is a spoiled brat, relying on daddy's money and lacking any and all sorts of manners. Her father is the head of a multinational corporation that deals with investments, and apparently property holdings. Her father also has dealings with the supernatural, which I will cover in time.

Network Zero gave us a few leads. Messages and calls were sent out and only Greyson did not answer. I received a surprising answer from Marcus Purcell, in proxy for Agnes, stating that she would not be attending and that I would be spoken to later. I will also cover this in time.

We decided to follow a missing persons report, all centered around a single building. Arriving there, we were able to utilize a man named Guillermo to get inside. We managed to get down to the basement  and then were promptly scared witless by a door, causing us to high tail it out of there. As we fled, I noticed that Guillermo had been captured.

My ire already high, I was able to tamp down my fear, gather most of my team. Max, showing an hitherto unknown facility for subtlety, conned a security guard into leading us down to the basement again. Rather than repeat what caused us to run, I was once again able to use my blood to manipulate the lock and open the door, successfully.

We made it inside and, within one of the first rooms we searched, we found people suspended, bleeding into collection bins. To be clear, Max found it...

...I was getting hungry and thought it best to keep clear of it.

The second office held a Kindred, who immediately incapacitated Max. With Max paralyzed and Rose...actually, I was thankful that Rose was quiet for the moment...it left me to answer the Kindred's questions. This fellow was slightly fat, mustachioed, he looked Italian. He was pale, dressed nicely, and carried a cane. He smelled, faintly, of rotting death.

He wondered, rightly, what we were doing in his building. I immediately threw out the story of us being specialists and told him what we were investigating. He explained that his family had recently fallen into financial hardship due to the deaths of his two brothers. He was trying to recoup the family losses by launching into a business of this type.

When I was introduced to the Camarilla, I was informed that my hunting activities were all well and good, but if it came to Kindred matters, then I would first inform the Camarilla. That memory firmly implanted in my mind, I took him up on his offer to leave, provided he released Max. He also gave us Guillermo, whom Max carried off. As we were leaving, Guillermo noticed that Rose was trying to return to the other Kindred. We dragged her back along with us, even as she was kicking and screaming. I was able to force her to calm down with a bit of a focus of blood.

So then we were treated to dinner (including a bottle of blood for me) by Guillermo. He spent most of it caring for Chronos or flirting with Rose, but he did take time to answer our questions. He also informed us that he was "fey." Given his knowledge of the supernatural, I assume he has been around for a long while.

Now, I have three problems. First, Rose. Her ties to Kindred notwithstanding, she is a spoiled brat with no manners and a death wish. Guillermo was kind enough to feed us and she still persisted in being rude. Tact...I will beat it into this team if I have to.

Second, the Kindred - the butcher. Guillermo heard someone call him "Giovanni", which gives me enough to give to a "trusted" member of the Camarilla. I've asked my Sire to set up a meeting with the head of the Carthians. If I bring them a sort of gift when I go to formalize my allegiance, I might be accepted more readily.

Finally, this conversation I am set to have with Marcus - about Agnes. I am not looking forward to this. It is not going to go well for my state of mind, nor my last attempt at keeping something from before my Embrace. Leaving emotions aside and speaking practically, it will shoot the Ultor project in the foot for the time being.

I am driving, waiting to hear from either Marcus or Viviana. I plan on feeding first, so that I have a clearer focus. I must only find some appropriate targets.

Monday, February 24 (Nearly Dawn)

I think I can cross item 1 off of the list.

Agnes and Marcus arrived, with Agnes not acting quite like herself. I can only assume that Marcus caught wind of the artifact somehow. We went up to the den, where Marcus and I made small talk while Agnes fussed with the piano I had recently discovered. Eventually Viviana arrived and, after careful examination of the piece, declared that the piece was a means to the end of mankind. She thanked Agnes for giving her a brief moment with an item of such age, then retired to bed.

In perhaps the most anti-climactic turn of the evening, Marcus wandered over to the item and did something to it. It began to crack, then put out blue light. The artifact shattered and its pieces dissolved into nothingness. Marcus then, thankfully, left Agnes and I to talk.

Without going into too much detail, Agnes is conflicted. Her troubled history (which is at odds with her given history - I must remember to ask her about that) has left her stunted in several ways (including how to function as part of a team). I think that I was able to reach her, to make her understand that I, if not the entire team, would be there to help her.

She mentioned being offered the chance to be an apprentice, provided she focuses solely on training. I think I managed to deflect that as well and made her realize that returning to be with the team would be very good for her growth, rather than placing herself under the direct tutelage of another. I think I did so effectively, since she expressed a desire to remain. She had to speak to someone though, so I will hopefully hear from her tonight after I wake.

That still seems odd to write: "tonight after I wake." I am a monster, yet at times I feel positively human. As strong in my convictions as a human, as nervous as a human, and sometimes...

...as confused as a human.

But, no matter. I've given her what I can and the rest is up to her. Though I dearly hope her desire to remain with us remains with her.

Next, I must speak with Nadya. After I wake.

Sunday, February 23 (Very Late Evening - Around Midnight)

We met (minus Max, who I can only assume was on "werewolf business") for a miniature pizza party, at the mansion. As they ate, I discussed the fact that the lights on my truck had dimmed while driving through certain parts of downtown. Nadya commented that the lights in her penthouse kept dimming, no matter how often she replaced the bulbs. The others commented similar things.

Then it was brought up that Nadya had received a strange phone call from a place called Trojan Horse Communications. I had as well. Everyone else, except for Chronos (who has no cell phone) and Oliver (for some reason), experienced a similar call. We soon found out the reason.

An entity or organization calling itself "Network Zero" hacked into our phones to "give us" information on the God Machine. My annoyance at their presumption aside, the information given was fairly educational. The gist of it is that the God Machine created its Angels, who in turn created Demons (a failed experiment), and then created Man. Man was used as slave labor to build great cities and accomplishments for the Angels. Eventually Man grew tired of this and sought out its own destiny from the God Machine. Given the cryptic words "What has risen will fall, what has fallen may rise again," Man attempted to supplant the Angels. In a bout of murder, all but eight Angels perished, and these eight fled, planning to curse Man when the appropriate time came.

Various artifacts had been left by the God Machine and its Angels. One such artifact eventually came to be known as "Packet Theta." This will become highly important later on.

We deemed the information fit to know, but set it aside for the time being so that we could focus on the more immediate problem of the fluctuating electricity. As we were discussing our options and avenues of investigation, Chronos suddenly jumped up and declared that if we wanted to find out the cause we were in the wrong place. I thought, for the briefest moment, that the team would consider a plan beneficial to the action...

...and I was wrong.

As we were barreling into this, and as we were going to be spending a large amount of time downtown, I decided to forego my revolvers and the pistol. We then piled into Nadya's Escalade where we were horribly guided to our destination by someone that Nadya and Greyson seemed to know. Eventually, we pulled in front of a place called Rough Riders, which I immediately identified as a werewolf joint. Perhaps it was the surly looking individuals, perhaps it was the play on words hidden in the name...

...perhaps it was the nigh overwhelming smell of dog.

Either way, Nadya, Agnes, and Chronos ventured inside. They returned a little later, with Nadya holding a bag and Chronos...

...Chronos was holding a radio.

The events of the next hour or so were a carousel of madness. We followed Chronos along some path that he claimed was a line of disturbance. Eventually he stood still, made some hand gestures, and looked surprised. He said a spirit had died in front of him.

And then he and Greyson disappeared.

We waited for quite some time, enough time that four people staring at a spot on the sidewalk was starting to draw too much attention. No one was swayed by the argument that we should probably drive around just a bit - even just around the block - to disperse the unwanted focus. So we waited. And waited. And waited. Until finally, Chronos came back.

Without Greyson.

Finally noting the indignation of the team, he returned to wherever he was to retrieve Greyson. Somehow during the course of it all, the pair of them discovered what the source of the disturbance was. When they described it to Nadya, we finally were able to make our way there.

The building had a large stained-glass window held up by beams, but it was held away from the building. We also noticed another individual nearby, regarding the window - and what it held in its center. Chronos, in his devil may care attitude, got out to approach the fellow, while Agnes and Nadya followed.

After some less than intense debate in which we learned that an orb at the center of the window was our objective, it was decided that Greyson, Agnes, and I would venture into the building, while Tristan, the mysterious stranger (who we determined to be an Angel) would knock out the power in the building. Chronos did something to Greyson to make him faster, and he took off. Agnes made herself invisible...

...and I just walked in.

As Agnes and I made our way up the stairs, we could hear Greyson gathering a following of security guards. After a few dozen flights (for Greyson) we heard those same security guards scream and come flying down the stairs. Rather than be caught, Agnes and I ducked through a nearby door - where we came face to face with another security guard. Finding myself highly annoyed, I caught the guard's eyes and, having experimented on others, forced my will upon his with a single word:

"Run."

After the coast was clear, Agnes and I continued up the stairs finally making it to the roof access. As we passed through the door, we saw Greyson take a heroic running leap...

...and plummet to the ground.

Agnes worked quickly to make it easier for me to get to the orb. She made my gloves and boots adhesive, and then did something with our belts to give us a kind of anchoring rope. I was then able to quickly make my way down the stained glass window to the center, and easily grabbed the object in the center - an orb. I laughed, reveling in the bit of victory we had achieved.

WEE-oo WEE-oo...

Son of a...

From my precarious vantage point, I was able to see the lights flying down the street. I was also able to see Nadya start her Escalade. You have to be kidding me. Somehow I managed to climb back up, with the orb. Agnes and I quickly made our way down as we heard the sirens stop. We piled back into the Escalade and drove away.

I was actually content. We had worked as a team to achieve an objective and did it successfully. Things were finally starting to come together.

Then Agnes "claimed" the orb.

After some wordslinging between Agnes and Nadya, which saw Nadya say she quits the team and driving off (and also saw Agnes claim that if anyone disagreed with her keeping it, she was gone as well), which also saw the Angel, who had followed us home, drive off in disdain or disgust.

After all of that, and Agnes's declaration, I left the rest of them in the garage. I sent a message to Greyson stating that all of them were welcome to spend the evening in the mansion to rest, if they so chose. I, however, was finished with the situation for the time being as I had no desire to deal with severe reactions or temper tantrums.

Soon after, Agnes sent me a series of text messages indicating that she was leaving. With my mood, I wished her good luck and told her that I would think of her while I was in Germany, however, if she wanted to work on growing a bit more mature, then my door would be open. She is apparently on her way over now...

Then, I recalled my dream of mazes. It was a little too convenient, but...a possibility.

Immediate To-Do List (in no particular order)
1. Convince Agnes to remain with the team
2. Convince Nadya to remain with the team
3. Discipline Chronos to within an inch of his life
4. Feed

Sunday, February 23 (Very Early Evening)

I awoke this evening from a peculiar dream.

Since my Embrace, at least part of my sleep has been dominated by a single dream. I find myself in a red stone maze, with dead ends of fire and sunlit windows. Each time I seem to make progress, the dreams shift to something else.

Until today, that is.

I found myself midway through the maze, following a patch that I recalled to be correct. As the floor became covered with blood, I found my way into a wide open courtyard. Imagine my relief at navigating my way out...

Then imagine my trepidation when the door closed behind me.

Then, if you can, imagine my supreme frustration when I realize that the courtyard leads into yet another maze.

I do not cleave much to the idea of prophecy, yet the dream intrigues me. I wonder what it means.

Friday, February 21 (Very Late Evening)

Idiot!

You are not as subtle as you think, Geralt, not as subtle by far. Trying to be clever by dropping hints, trying to outsmart people who have been playing this game for far longer than you.

Now you are a loose end.

Good job.

Friday, February 21 (Late Morning)

During the blissful quiet of a few days, I discovered something in the attic of the mansion. It was a footlocker, a very dusty footlocker at that. I managed to lug it out into an open part and, finding no key nearby, sat down to regard the container.

After an hour or so passed with no notice of mine, and no ideas coming to me, I searched my memory for any ideas, as my curiosity had gotten the best of me. Then I recalled Viviana's trick with the door, changing its destination. If she could manipulate a door, then could I manipulate part of a door? I then focused my blood and willed it to unlock the footlocker.

Click!

Within, I found three journals, a contraption of wires and other chips, and a set of women's clothing, in an 80's European style. The journals mentioned a place called the Golden Citadel, a continuously growing city in Germany that houses a continuously growing sculpture of metal and bone, designed to "transform the world in wondrous ways."

This sculpture has attracted people from all over Germany to form a town, which eventually grew into a city called the "Golden Citadel."  This Golden Citadel is still growing, and the journals called it a "horrifying construction that hides from the thoughts and memories of humanity," yet continues to draw people to it.

Ten years before my discovery of the journals, the author noted the population of the Citadel to be nearly half a million people. She posits that in half a century (forty or so years from today) the Citadel could encompass all of Germany, before expanding to the point where the world's entire population works there. She also notes that people are being fed to the Citadel, so that it might grow faster.

I also found some sort of device to be worn beneath a hat. It is made of wires and chips. One of the journals noted that the device is capable of blocking the effects of the Citadel's concealment and mind control. If I am to do anything with this, I shall have to go and find the parts. Perhaps I can create enough of these devices for all of us.

Being conscientious of getting this information out, I called a meeting for the following evening. Once everyone had arrived, I quickly brought them up to speed on the ending of Cote and his guide. Nadya, as to be expected, was furious, though I dealt with that later. Agnes also brought a new mage to the mansion. He is a "time mage," and Agnes is his - for lack of a better word - first contact. He has called himself, quite appropriately, "Chronos."

Then I brought out the materials from the footlocker. We spent some time discussing them, as well as the merits of taking this on. One of the major concerns is that we have so many things to handle here that it seems impossible to go to Germany of all places and deal with something there. However, I pointed out that we were already on the God-Machine's radar, and if this Citadel is tied to the God-Machine, as I believe it to be, then it needs to be us that deals with it.

Funnily enough, the first person to jump to go with me was Max. I may have misjudged him, though I am certain it won't be the last time.The rest decided to go as well, some fairly reluctantly. After that, the meeting ended fairly abruptly, as the team scattered.

I have called a series of one-on-one meetings with everyone on the team. This is my first step towards making this team work.

Tuesday, February 18 (Very Early Morning)

There are no words for the events of this evening.

I invited the team to my new dwelling. Each brought food, and we gathered in the dining room. Before long, my Sire joined us.

We began discussing plans for business. Greyson has some friends involved in various body art. Possible first ventures all. We also discussed a location for our office. Apparently there are abandoned clinics we can refurbish in the projects. I think that's where I'll look first.

Next, we discussed the Cog. Always sets of three kills, all over. Only connection was that the murders occurred nearby industrial machinery. Cyril read fate to figure out if he could identify the next victims. He said when he tried, the victims kept changing.

We began to start making plans to leave, and Cyril went off to speak with Agnes before he left. Afterwards, he headed outside...

...and was shot at.

We all rushed outside to drag him in (my door has three bullet holes in it). Nadya managed to mostly heal Cyril, causing the bullet to eject itself. Examination of the bullet taught us little, but my Sire was able to send him home via a useful trick with the door to the garage stairs.

After all of that, we made our way to the morgue, again. Nadya and Agnes investigated the bodies while Max and I were watching. Eventually, we made our way to the back of the morgue and found the night shift attendant dead.

Then, flashbang.

I was deafened and blind. When it finally cleared, I was on the floor. I managed to get into the hallway and get off a shot at the bastard. Then he walked towards me and disappeared.

With sirens coming, we decided it was best to get out of there. Max, Nadya, and I made it away, but the cops stopped Greyson and Agnes. We took off to the projects, where we waited to hear what had happened to our friends.

While we waited, the Satan-worshippers from the concert were trying to get into the building. I, amusedly, took them up to Cyril to try and get them involved. Cyril sent them away, then Greyson sent them further away.

Yes, Greyson and Agnes had arrived.

After a brief explanation, Nadya retrieved her vehicle and went home. Greyson went into the projects. Leaving Agnes, Max, and me.

Agnes gets a call from Bishop of Task Force Valkyrie. Valkyrie's not going to have the time to look into this, so they sent the file to us. (NOTE: Consider where taxes go.)

We received the home address of this fellow, whose name was Westley Cote. Agnes, Max, and I drove there. When we arrived, Max and Agnes disappeared. I shrugged and walked towards the door.

We burst in and found no one. Then a pressure settled on our minds, and a voice asked why we were there. After a back and forth, another "angel" with clockwork wings appeared.

He spoke of a world where it is remade, and how the God Machine sees a world without humans. And how stopping Cote in this point in time doesn't mean he'll be stopped in all of them. The angel gave us the chance to leave or die.

Too bad for him I am already dead.

I fired at the angel, doing a fair amount of damage. It rushed at me, trying to knock me down with its wings. Apparently, I hurt it badly enough that it was off balance. Max managed to jump on his back, distracting him. That left me to finish him off...

...which I did.

Agnes dissolved him, right before we heard gunfire in the street. We rushed out and it was Cote. After a violent gunfight, he was taken down.

It was a long three or four hours. Far too long.

Friday, February 14 (Late Evening)

Tonight, I had an evening of meetings. First, with Viviana, I learned that in order to have a dependable person working for my interests during the day, I have to bind them to me through blood.

Which is...basically what she's done to me... Hmm.

I also learned about Trebius Group. Apparently, Viviana has connections that will allow me to take possession of the house on Hawthorne. Convenient!

I also had to go to Marcus's. We discussed a private matter, before moving on to the events of Birkin. He also mentioned that a werewolf war was brewing. Chloe, his confident friend, had been severely wounded by a werewolf pack (ironically enough, the pack that we were hunting with Valkyrie when Cheiron attacked). Whoops on that, I suppose.

Then, another team meeting was called. Apparently, Cyril and Agnes had had several sorts of adventures, and over the course of a day, no less. First, Cyril activated some kind of artifact, seeing things that mages don't normally see. This activation drew the attention of some sort of mage sect called the Seers of the Throne. It seems that a combination of Cyril, Agnes, and new arrival Max managed to fend off the attacks.

Which is the second part of the three part meeting - Max is a werewolf. For some reason, learning this irritated me to the point where I immediately loaded Thunder with silver bullets before my other meetings. When I arrived at Greenbriar, I could immediately smell the wet dog scent permeating Cyril's office. This did not put me in a good mood, nor did Agnes's continuing oblique persuasions to not let racial tendencies to cause us to not get along.

So we moved on. Now we come to the third part of the meeting, the most entertaining part. Agnes had arranged a "group therapist" to come and help the team work out its issues. The therapist was awakened, she said, and very good at what he did. Nadya complained that we were going to do this when tired. Had I truly been riled, I would have pointed out that I was tired when we went to save Nasilah, then still when we went to save Oliver. And that was fighting, not sitting in a meeting. However, I left it alone so that we could focus on the therapist. Then he arrived.

Dear God, the sweater.

Dr. Gale Robertson was a very engaged man who spoke with a lisp. He and his pug (dressed in a matching sweater) arrived and were immediately the targets of derision. The team managed to arrange themselves so that it, at least to me, appeared to be us against him. We all received name tags with alliterative epithets, for example, I was "Gentlemanly Gavin" or "Genuine Gavin" (and yes, I'm aware of that irony).

We went through several activities, including stating what we thought was the biggest problem facing the team. We also had to give a description of how we see a given team member, easily enough done. Then there was the roleplay, wherein we were paired off with another team member and had to act how we thought that person would act. I was amused by mine, as I was paired with Agnes. Agnes was less than amused, it seemed.

The last activity was by far the most amusing. Each of us had to stand up in the front and speak with Dr. Gale while the rest of the team wrote one good thing and one bad thing about us on a card. Some of the responses were highly amusing. A summary follows: I am dependable, but broody, among other things. Cyril hasn't died yet, but he has an approximate knowledge of many things. Oliver seems very experienced, but we haven't seen him doing much. Nadya is always there when you need her, but she's paranoid and prone to picking fights.

Then we come to Agnes!

Her negatives were as follows: can be reactionary, strange, sometimes overly persistent, doesn't bother looking past the obvious in the heat of the moment, and she is antagonistic. In a definitively ironic turn of events, Agnes reacted badly. She seemed very upset at her negatives, which spurred the rest of us into fits of laughter. Cyril even pointed out that he had an approximate knowledge of psychology and could probably help her out if she wanted. That, and her reaction, just spurred us into further laughter.

All in all, a very productive evening, though it was far from over. (NOTE: After Ultor is incorporated and we have a few board meetings, contact Dr. Gale and retain his services for another session.)

Not long after, I went to speak to Cyril about some things. Max was there, but some of the tension had already bled away. We discussed the former owner of Greenbriar, Jimarcus. He was a mage, focused on Prime magic - the building blocks of magic. He was once associated with the mages that came to help us with Taraton (which included Octavia, one of Marcus's).

We also briefly discussed Max and why he was so close to Cyril. In short, Cyril is bait, because the Seers are after him and Max is after the Seers. Fair enough, I suppose.

Then we moved onto wards, and their various types. We discussed possible wards for the Ultor building, perhaps something to dampen hostile intentions. Then we discussed possible dampening of supernatural...rages, for lack of a better word.

I offered Max the junkyard, after Viviana is gone and I move my things (what little I have). He and I will go visit it, so that he can take a tour of the place. My only caveat is that he not give me any trouble when utilizing the place, so that I can acquire materials I need. He agreed, but said it would be just me. No other vampire would be able to get in without trouble.

Amusing, that.

Max left, and Cyril began to ask me questions about the changes that have occurred to me since my Embrace. He was concerned that I had changed abruptly, simply because he didn't know why. He was very happy that I was handling things so well, though. That led into concerns of Marcus, but I am pleased with his involvement, though cautious, and Cyril has adopted a "watch and wait" stance.

The Soul's Army will be slowly integrated into Ultor. They will remain protecting their families and their homes, but now they'll draw a decent paycheck for it. Most of them will go toward security (as will a handful of MS 13 members, should we be able to draw them in). I informed him of my plan to offer employment to Petrushka as my assistant, though not my full plan. I also informed him of possibly approaching Wallace Wilkins with an invitation to join the Board.

Cyril planned to scale back some of what Persephone did to her. He didn't like the total shift of priorities and ways of thinking, worrying that they might break her mind. I convinced him to leave her be until I spoke with her, but now I begin to reconsider. Having him there will allow him to listen to her, and watch her, and decide how to scale it back if he still chooses to. It will also provide an educated witness, should the need arise.

He discussed concerns about Wallace, mainly the fact that he might not be human. Apparently Wallace could identify what Max was immediately. He made me promise to let him know how my discussions with Mr. Wilkins go.

So now I'm taking some time to seek him out.

Thursday, February 13 (Late Evening)

In Which Cyril Calls a Meeting...

Which is incredibly convenient, as I had planned on doing so myself. As we all gathered in his office, he proceeded to tell us that he had looked at his thread and, should he continue in "field work" as he has been, his thread will be cut, or end, abruptly. To counter this, he has decided he's going to step back from the field, but will be available to assist us as he is able.

I assume part of this comes from the encounter with Birkin, when his Catholic upbringing taught him that angels are Right and Good. Not to mention the prophecy in the basement. I suppose if you're prophesied to die, you'd rather not hurry it along.

As is the Island's wont, the conversation flew off onto a tangent of "thread-reading." Oliver went first, and Cyril said that he was going to die - sometime in the past. Normally, it would seem remarkable, but given the events of the past few weeks, it was another of those things that I simply filed away. Agnes (who was rather derisive and antagonistic all night, but seemed fine after I sent her a text message later) was next. It was determined that she had a rather long thread, but it also was cut "sometime in the past." Greyson followed, and aside from the fact that his thread was, apparently, at least twice as long as Agnes's, the result was much the same.

Nadya, however, was the different one. Apparently, her thread did not end the same way the others' did. After a round of Agnes claiming that Nadya was going to betray the team somehow, Nadya had Cyril examine it again. Same result. Cyril then said he was finished looking at threads for the evening.

I found myself almost relieved. While it would be good to know, there are certain kinds of knowing that limit you or your plans. For example, if he had said my thread would be cut in a week, then I would have been less likely to pitch my idea of the corporation to the group. I would rather not know, and be free to act, than know and end up chaining myself.

At any rate, we moved on to my part of the meeting. I discussed mine and Nadya's plans to start our own corporation. Eventually, we can use it to stand toe to toe with other heavyweight supernatural organizations in Chicago, but at the start, it's best to start with that first block. Ultor (which is Latin for "avenger") Corporation will begin its life by improving living conditions in the projects. In order to do that, Ultor Corp. will begin buying up floundering businesses, or businesses that are in need of extra funds to continue existing. We will begin to negotiate with the other notable gang in the projects, MS 13, and try to win them to our side (both bolstering our manpower and preventing further violence in an already embattled zone). Eventually, we will open our own businesses, in the projects and other districts, as we prepare to begin exerting control, influence, and in some cases friendship over other areas.

For a man who has had no business education and used Google to research most of the information, I felt that the notes I gave to the group were not far from what we need. Agnes, whom we found out is an "heiress" (reason for quotation marks later) of a prosperous gold mine, had some questions, and offered to be the public face of the company. As an heiress is a much better choice than...someone like myself, I plan to take her up on her offer. All in all, the interest is there, we need to find an office building, and then file the necessary paperwork. (NOTE: Paperwork reminds me, knowing how to file Camarilla reports now, I need to send Tessa my report on the band event soon.)

After I was finished, we discussed "the Cog," the serial murderer (or murderers) responsible for fifteen deaths, usually with three at the same time. The police consider it to be at least three people acting in concert. However, Cyril mentioned it could be a Time mage.

Suddenly, the "dying in the past" thing doesn't seem quite as far fetched. Unless, of course, it was something akin to what happened to me, where I, in fact, died and have continued to exist. However, then Nadya's thread would have shown a similar "break," would it not?

Damn mages.

Agnes, who had been preoccupied with the fact that Greyson's strand was so much longer than hers, proceeded to interrogate him as to his age. Nadya left, which reminded me I had a question about whether or not she'd asked her cousin about lawyers. I sent her a text message and received a reply that first adamantly stated she would not be betraying the team, and that she hadn't yet. Agnes continued her interrogation, in which we all discovered that Greyson had been around for quite a few historical events.

Greyson finally gave us his age, which was, I think, two hundred fifty-three this fall. I then prompted Agnes for hers - one hundred eight. Apparently, Miss Moneypenny has been playing her own granddaughter. All things considered, this didn't faze me, but Cyril seemed concerned. She explained her background and he said that that answered quite a few questions. Greyson and I asked for an explanation and received some vague jargon.

Twice damned mages.

Apparently, it's a very "Marcus" kind of thing, in which informing their organization, their Consilium, means her being hunted. I don't know if it's the same as Marcus, but it sounds like the same issues if it comes out.

Layers and layers and layers.

I do confess to feeling bad for Oliver. I'm not certain he was fully aware of what he was jumping into when he agreed to help us.

Oh, earlier in her interrogation Agnes had started off on a wonderful rant, wherein she claimed to be upset because none of her questions were ever answered. She brought up my eye to start with, to which I calmly interrupted her and said "My sire." She stopped for a moment, said "Oh," and continued on with her interrogation of Greyson.

It's all about life's little amusements, I think.

With Ultor having the Island's blessing, the next step is to find an office building, preferably in the projects. Having it in the projects will show everyone that we are serious about our commitment to improving them. It will also allow us to stay relatively closed and hidden until we've built up our resources.

Thursday, February 13 (Early morning)

Well, that was certainly interesting...

The night before last, I was called to Marcus's mansion. In the garage there, he and one of his associates, Eobshin, were waiting to present me with a piece of equipment (on loan). It was a 9mm handgun with curious properties. Supposedly, it could ignore all mystical armor and could sometimes dispel magical effects upon a the target.

I was curious as to the occasion, but he wasn't very forthcoming. He bid me go on to meet my team (who had just called a meeting) and to remember the weapon. And so I did.

At the meeting, Ilsa (as well as the rest of us) helped us to figure out how to narrow down our list of suspects. She also instructed us in how to protect our minds from possession. After some (what I assume was) prodigious hacking on the part of Agnes and some others, we discovered that the riots at the band's shows began after the new manager, Travis Delamont, took over. That seemed as good a place to start as any.

The next night, the concert. I was not personally looking forward to it, as I had no desire to wake up next to Chunk again. However, Cyril worked some of his magic and protected our minds. Which allowed me to see some very interesting things...

There were...things, whirling around on the ceiling. Every once in a while, one of them would swoop down and enter someone. As the band started playing, Ilsa suddenly made a beeline for the corner of the stage. I looked to where she was headed and saw a man in a suit - and William Birkin.

(For a recapitulation, Birkin was the fellow with the shocking machine and the stabbing games.)

We were accosted on the way by various dancers or attendees. After a few minutes worth of effort, the others were able to extricate themselves, while I remained surrounded. A few minutes of posturing and word-slinging later, and Ilsa had drawn her sword. That was enough for me, so I drew Thunder and fired into the ceiling, clearing the area around me, before moving over to Agnes to keep myself in between her and this Travis fellow, who had, incidentally, turned pale white.

Birkin, in his own frustrating way, did absolutely nothing for a time. Between us all we quickly dispatched Delamont, only to have him replaced by some sort of demonic creature with four arms. He lashed out to punch three of us (Greyson, Ilsa, and myself), but only succeeded in hitting me. I managed to get off a lucky shot with Marcus's enchanted handgun before Ilsa completely annihilated it.

Right around then, Birkin was angry, and some of the possessed folks erupted into blood with those things we fought during the Oliver rescue. Turning my focus to the "child" demons (as they were far too close to the mages for my comfort), I saw him try to backhand Ilsa. For some reason, his hand didn't make it. However, that was apparently just the impetus an unexpected attendee needed.

Marcus walked right up to Birkin. Eobshin wasn't far behind him. Marcus did something that caused a whole bunch of shadows to leap from his hands towards Birkin...

...and nothing. Nothing happened at all. Perhaps the most frightening part is that Marcus, himself, looked surprised.

It seemed a fairly even fight between the three of them, Marcus, Ilsa, and Birkin. It didn't seem that one could hurt another. We, for the most part, quickly mopped up the children demons, and I had just enough presence of mind as Agnes was dragging me off to safety, to fire off a parting shot at Birkin with the 9mm. And it hit.

It serves the bastard right.

Nadya was in the corner farthest from us, with the powerhouses in between. Greyson was off to the side watching. Then Marcus did something that...that even now I find very difficult to explain. As best I can figure, he opened a giant hole in the ground and an innumerable amount of ghosts swarmed out of it to attack Birkin. Nadya screamed and curled into a ball and it looked like Agnes was about to have a full blown breakdown.

I wonder what that says about me.

At any rate, Birkin then sprouted large, clockwork wings and took off into the sky (in a hole in the roof that he had created). On the other side of the door (where Oliver had stayed) was the sound of a battering ram (and a bit of hut-hut-hut nonsense). Marcus got us out of there, and back into Cyril's office.

Nadya healed both Ilsa and myself before she made her way home (I plan to go and check on her soon, but sleep will serve her best now). Agnes seemed near catatonic, so we made sure to get her home. Greyson wandered off, dealing with his own inner (and please dear God hopefully figurative) demons.

It was here, with just Cyril, Ilsa, and myself in the room, that I displayed a weakness. I moved as far away from Ilsa as possible. I have no doubt that she could destroy me as easily as she did the demon, but I am no longer scared little Gavin, I am Geralt, a Ventrue, and should be acting accordingly. Cyril seemed to be having a crisis of faith (he had been raised Catholic - I would not have guessed) which they discussed for some time.

After Ilsa left, I found a few willing women (and at least one quite more than willing) that let me feed upon them. After leaving the last one somewhat deliriously content, I walked around the projects, looking for candidates for my, and hopefully our, new venture.

(NOTE: I must contact someone within the Camarilla, likely Lavarial, for information regarding the filing of reports. No doubt both Tessa and the Prince will be well aware of it by the time I have done so, but it pays to be thorough.)

Saturday, February 8 (Early Morning)

I am back in the junkyard, after another interesting (and entertaining) night. I thankfully managed to avoid Chunk upon my return (it's more than likely his "ever vigilant" route took him to Desire again). I don't feel like I want to deal with the possible awkwardness that will ensue, just yet.

When I awoke earlier this evening, I had just enough time to jot down my thoughts of the past few days in my phone before Marcus summoned me for the training. As I made my way towards my truck to retrieve the cane, I saw what looked like a little pig leading Tessa, Mandi, and Brut in some sort of Richard Simmons-esque exercise routine, with another woman who looked vaguely familiar drinking water in the kitchen. Not wanting to intrude, I very very quietly made my way to my truck.

Cane in hand and a cursory appraisal showing no new damage to the truck, I turned to head back to the mansion when I saw a light on in a garage. Curiosity got the best of me, because I headed over to take a look. Inside was what could only be considered an automotive museum, juxtaposed with padded mats and workout equipment. A single individual stood inside, a fairly tall woman, a ginger, holding a large duffel. She was looking about the room.

I turned, once again, to make my way back to the mansion. However, Marcus was already on his way. He led me inside the garage and smiled, kissing the woman on the cheek as he passed. When the woman looked at me, there was absolutely no warmth in those green eyes.

She commented on my youth. As my physical age is thirty-seven I could only assume she meant as Kindred. Apparently, Kindred a week or so old aren't usually to be alone in the room with her. I managed to enlighten her to my sire's methods - mainly, the fact that I learn how to take care of myself, regardless of my new state.

She described herself, still coldly, as having been trained at a very young age to protect a city on her own. It doesn't matter be it mage, or vampire, or "the devil himself." I have been told to behave myself, else I will be hunted. Apparently, she's hunted Marcus before. That's a story that I'll need to hear sometime.

I made a point of explaining that I consider myself far too young to be a troublemaker. I also stated that the Island helps keep me under control. Not to mention that if I decided to intentionally cause trouble, either the Island or the Camarilla. She retorted with the fact that she's met both, and she feels pity for me.

Interesting, but irrelevant at this point.

After a glance between this Ilsa and Marcus, Marcus deemed that she liked me. I really don't see that, personally.

As Ilsa prepared with her equipment, Marcus took the time to examine my blade. Apparently, my knife shop blade is of fairly good quality. Apparently, the owner didn't know what he had. We turned to face Ilsa and she had shed her thick coat, heavy slacks, and boots, trading them out for comfortable workout clothes. In her hands, she held a scabbard and hilt of a medieval longsword. I'm not certain what it was about that blade, but I know I didn't like it.

Marcus explained the two virtues of the sword cane: surprise and speed. Surprise, because the entire concept of the weapon is deception, masking lethality behind a gentlemanly facade. Speed, because the lighter, thin blade allows for quicker movements. Getting backed into a corner would be a death sentence for me.

He then, with Ilsa's aid, demonstrated three basic maneuvers for use in the fencing style with my sword cane. First, the lunge, the basic attack. Next, the parry, and finally, the riposte. He then had me attempt the maneuvers. Every first attempt was dreadful, mechanical. There was no fluidity to the movements. I felt like a brute fighting with a pencil.

He critiqued my efforts and had me repeat them until they felt and looked fluid, practiced, and unforced. Then he bade Ilsa to take a defensive stance while I attempted to attack her - which I did. She parried it easily, stepped around me, smacking my back with the flat of her blade and simply continued onward. She didn't even turn around to face me.

Lovely. I've made a new friend.

Marcus took over for the parry and riposte, moving through it quickly enough. He told me to practice on my own for the next two or so days, giving me a few more cuts and thrusts to work on alone. He then told me that he and Ilsa were going to train a little longer, and I was welcome to head into the mansion and stay for a while or leave, at my prerogative.

I decided that I would get out as quickly as possible, giving him and Ilsa some space (not to mention that I desperately wanted to get away from her sword and honestly didn't feel comfortable around her). She did apologize, saying that she'd had a rough day (I'd used the same excuse towards the Island, so...yes).

I quickly made my way out of there, then up to the mansion. I found Tessa (who was scooping an ice cream sundae for the piglet - I'm not sure I could even begin to understand) and apologized for intruding into her territory while she was sleeping, and thanked all of them (Mandi, the mystery woman, and the others) for their hospitality. Tessa seemed to be delighted that I apologized, much in a way that a lion likes to play with its prey. The mystery woman thanked me, and told me to run while I could.

As I politely fled, I had one of those lightbulb moments: I had just met Scheherazade, head of Cheiron and the Consilium. Good lord, I was meeting all kinds of important people.

On the drive back to the junkyard, I had another bit of time for introspection. I had apparently made a very strong impression on several of the important players in the supernatural spheres of Chicago. I impressed the Sheriff by not throwing him immediately under the bus. I impressed Tessa (among others) by not falling apart under Teresa's questioning. I get the feeling that I impressed Marcus by listening, rather than berating. I've no desire to be the right hand of the devil. I want to continue on with what I've been doing - hunting troublesome supernaturals. I'm just required to be a little more...circumspect in those I hunt. A narrower field of targets is still a field of targets.

Then there is Ilsa. She is very much like what I could see my pre-Embrace self as if I had joined a larger hunter organization. Very direct, very cold. Working with supernaturals out of necessity, rather than any apparent camaraderie. What I saw in her eyes, what I saw in her voice, reminded me of myself when I first encountered the Island regularly - ice, that feeling that supernaturals are tools, rather than acquaintances or friends.

Of course, I could be so far off the mark. I'm rather new at reading folks as they find out what I am.

On top of it all, Marcus. Nadya has her reasons for not liking him. Agnes seems very hostile towards him for bureaucratic reasons (though, given her antagonism towards Bishop, then what I discovered...it makes me wonder). Cyril seems to be very hands off about the affair, and Greyson treats him as very much a friend.

I know he's done terrible things, or at least things that are terrible through the lenses through which I can see. However, he's...a sort of kindred spirit. He must feed on others to survive, if he doesn't, he dies. I can understand this. I can't quite understand the lengths to which he goes, but I can understand...why, in a sense.

The past week has been very confusing. I feel as though I'm rambling without purpose. I'm going out into the yard to practice until dawn. Hopefully, soon, I'll hear something back from either Viviana or Cyril in regards to the mansion. Time will tell, I suppose.

And time is no longer in short supply for me.

Friday, February 7 (part 2)

My ire cooling, and filing these events away for later use, I greeted Marcus, who bade me spend the rest of the day in his mansion. He was also more than willing to provide blood for me, seeing that I was injured. As we entered the mansion, he received a phone call. It was apparently from Vashard, whom Marcus thanked and bade him to continue with his previous duties.

Mandi enthusiastically offered me a place to stay, but Marcus stepped in and compared how I was feeling now to (apparently) how Tessa felt in the past. That seemed to frighten her, as she asked if she'd have to go into the safe room. Marcus reassured her that all would be well, that I was not Tessa. (I can only assume that beyond cranky, Tessa is rather aggressive when tired.)

Marcus led me into the kitchen, where he heated up a few frozen blood packs and served them to me in a crystal glass. The absurdity of the moment was not lost on me, even in my tired state. A very powerful mage (I would soon come to learn how powerful) and a tired vampire, trading stories and chatting over a crystal glass of blood (for the vampire) and of whiskey (for the mage). Sartre would have been ecstatic.

Having healed and fed, I was better able to take in my surroundings. Marcus was in jeans and a flannel shirt, of all things. He looked very relaxed. He then congratulated me on how well I did at Elysium, saying that it was a rare man who could stand up to Teresa as I did. My actions with that alone seemed to have made a good impression (even on the Seneschal, he told me, though she would never ever admit it). However, I came to find out that Teresa enjoys men "who can put up with her."

I thanked him for shelter and for agreeing to teach me how to use this sword cane I have purchased (but not yet used). He told me that I would be meeting another hunter, Ilsa, his sparring partner. She is part of a Vatican-sponsored hunter group, the Malleus Maleficarum. I would apparently get a warning, due to my nature, but it is not unusual, apparently, as Marcus seems to get warnings all of the time.

We discussed my Embrace and transition for a while, then. The overwhelming feelings of Elysium, he said, were simply a first step into the world of the Kindred. True integration, and a sense of home, would come when I selected a covenant. We discussed the covenants, briefly, and I found out that Teresa has lost a member of her covenant to the Carthians, which they gained on top of two newly Embraced Kindred. If I let her give me an offer, Marcus claims it will probably be a good one.

He also pitched the idea of the Ordo Dracul, a more cerebral covenant. I've never exactly been described as such, and told him so. He laughed and said that he had to put it on the table for "his Tessa."

I found out that Marcus has working relationships with many of the supernatural groups across the city, excluding the werewolves.  No real office, just friendships, so it's not bothered anyone as of yet.

I discussed how I was slowly going to cultivate my own friendships, when he brought the Sheriff to my attention. The Sheriff had stepped when when the matter of Sophia, the Kindred I killed pre-Embrace, was brought to the floor at Elysium. I come to find out that he took that bullet for me, and the bullet was fired by his "former flame," aka, the Prince. Apparently, some time ago, the then-not-yet Sheriff, Dominic, (who also was not associated with the Camarilla) was on a trip through Seattle when he saved the Prince, Katya Medvedev, from a host of Caitiff (I gather these are unaligned Kindred, though I cannot be certain). He was dragooned into the role of Sheriff, and the pair of them eventually ended up in Chicago. I shall have to consider what to do with this.

Then, the conversation became very serious, very fast.

He called the Sheriff a charlatan, and I asked what he meant (as he had done so twice in my hearing). Apparently, back at the beginning of the middle ages, there was a clan of Kindred named Tremere, talented blood mages. These Kindred sought to Diablerize (literally drink the soul from a victim) certain mages of the time. Apparently, as soon as they began to drink the souls of the mages, they were immediately consumed by "supernal fire," whatever that may be. Even those of the clan not taking part were incinerated, wiping out the clan of Tremere completely.

The curse, however, transferred itself into the mages they had attempted to diablerize. These were called the Tremere Liches (full importance to come).

Sometime later, a covenant calling themselves the Tremere formed to coalesce the teachings of the old clan into a single repository on Blood Sorcerery. The Sheriff is a member of this covenant...and Marcus is a second generation Lich. As such, they both feel more entitled to the name than the other. Hence the "charlatan" comment.

Apparently, if Chicago's mages every found out there was a Lich among them, they'd destroy the city to find it. And now I know something that should not be divulged. (NOTE: Does Nadya know? I'll have to find some way to ask.)

Then I found out the truly dark part. Liches feed on souls, rather than blood. The youngest Liches (those one hundred years and younger) require only one soul a year. The next fifty years drop the interval to nine months. Twenty years after that, every six months. And as the age increases, the interval drops.

He stated that I was probably thinking it was a good thing that Liches are rooted out and destroyed, and that I probably was not wrong. However, I pointed out to him that such a stance was hypocritical. While Kindred do not have to destroy those upon whom they feed, the act of feeding itself is well within the same sphere of "unnatural." He found this amusing, stating that Liches don't need to kill their victims, but it is better for the victims and society as a whole if they do, as they become the very immoral sort that wreak more havoc upon humanity than any supernatural ever could.

We next discussed the killing of feeding victims, with my only experience being the girl that he had procured for me. He apologized, stating that Viviana insisted I had to prove I could kill to survive. He agreed with her, with the caveat that I should endeavor to not let it get that far again. I agreed, stating that having done so, and knowing how it feels when I do, I can be more on guard. He made an offer to make certain I am supplied if I fear my ability to restrain myself.

Thanking him for his generosity, I noted that there is a small part of me that is convinced that I should be furious with him for knowingly leading me into my Embrace, but that strangely enough, I was content. He apologized, stating that he owed Viviana and needed to clear that ledger. He also knew that I wouldn't be put through too much undue harm.

I waved off his apology, citing how I now have a family and Viviana does as well, and how I have already begun to make contacts within the Carthians. All of that combined somewhat balances out the curse I'm now under. He appreciated it, then glanced at his watch and sent me off to find a room. He stopped me, using the name I've given to the Kindred at large - Geralt.

"Thank you for not asking how often I must feed."


I nodded, stating that I had always been taught it was rude to ask one's age, male or female. However, I had already done some basic math on that scale.

Knowing that Marcus is (at least) nearly fifteen hundred years old, and using the scaling intervals he described, the last age he gave me had a ceiling of one hundred seventy years feeding every six months. Given that information, it seems likely that he must feed a few times a week, if not daily.

I made my way to an outer room, feeling uneasy while within another Kindred's territory. I hoped by keeping out of the way, I would be less of an issue when Tessa woke, thereby not necessarily being chewed out for being in "her domain." I sipped off into a very grateful sleep.

Now it is evening again, it having taken me more effort than usual to wake. My dreams were nightmares, filled with the terrors I had so recently had described to me. I have been invited to stay longer, and take part in the training that Marcus goes through with this hunter, Ilsa. I think I may. Knowing may be more the key to power and influence in this city than money. With power, I can make certain that my new family, including my highly dysfunctional branch, are kept safe.

And that is what matters.

Friday, February 7

(Typed on my phone, as I am not in the vicinity of my journal. It will be added to the journal in due time. Also, I will try to make this slightly less...moody than originally intended.)

A whirlwind past few days...

We met on Tuesday, the group that I affectionately call the Island of Misfit Toys, to discuss any recent happenings. Greyson seemed very excited as a punk rock band of which he had long been a fan was coming to Chicago. However, Nadya mentioned that news reports had mentioned that this band's concerts tend to be punctuated by mob mentality violence - riots and sometimes death.

Not to be deterred, Greyson insisted he was going to their first (of three) concerts, to be held in two days' time. We all agreed to go with him in case something went wrong.

We should have known.

So Thursday evening comes around and we all attended the concert. The rest of the group was dressed in appropriate attire while I was in my hunting clothes. I figured that having the corpse-like thing going on already, it's not terribly out of place to dress as I normally do. I glanced towards the back (having moved towards the center of the floor to accompany Greyson) and saw Oliver. We exchanged brief nods and I turned my attention to the band coming onstage.

Punk rock has never been one of my favorite styles of music. Add on to that the band's name (The Last Satyr's Concubine) and it was altogether people with too much makeup making fools of themselves. However, for some reason, I threw myself into the fervor that night, so much so that after only three or so songs, I blacked out.

I came to the next morning, this morning, as a matter of fact, woken by the fact that I had others in my bed and that the bed as well as the individuals on it were covered in blood. Something that was almost invisible moved around my bedroom, leaving little foot impressions in the carpet. It was Agnes. I slowly turned my head to see who else was in the bed with me and almost missed the ability to throw up. It was Chunk.

Thank God we ere all still wearing our clothes.

Agnes had gone invisible for one major reason. She wasn't sure how I would take to be woken with the sight of all the blood in the room. Thankfully, I was able to keep control, and lead her out of the bedroom and into my austere living room. Still nervous (which is highly ironic, given events to come) she kept the couch between her and me, trying to figure out what happened.

Given how bad our injuries were, I had to end up contemplating what is perhaps the most awkward feeding I've yet to consider: Chunk. I needed to heal myself, and if I did that without being able to feed immediately, there was a chance I could lose it. Now, all caution thrown to the wind, Agnes bares her neck for me to feed, claiming I'll need a bit less than usual.

To explain my hesitation, I must impart a lesson learned before my Embrace. Either Cyril or Agnes mentioned that the blood of mages is like a drug, almost akin to heroin, for Kindred. Highly addictive, hallucinogenic, and generally just a bad idea. Now, I had a mage baring her neck for me to just drink.

As gracefully as I could (which is to say, not much at all, given recent circumstances) I made my way off to Chunk who was, thankfully, still asleep. I fed on him, briefly. He seemed to like it a trifle too much, so I made it a point to harshly mutter "sleep." When I did so, I felt a small rush of power through me and lo and behold, he did. (NOTE: Must explore this later.)

I was wiping my mouth on the way out of the bedroom when the others showed up (minus Oliver, who couldn't be reached). Apparently, Nadya had woken up with Greyson and Cyril. Not only that, she couldn't feel Nasilah (the ghost attached to her) and seemed to be falling apart - literally. Agnes was able to bandage her leg to keep it from falling off, while Cyril nulled her ability to feel pain. Pretty useful talent, there.

After the mages and Greyson did their thing, it was decided we would try to go to the venue and hopefully find Nasilah. On top of that, it was hoped that we would find out the reasons for what happened with the concert. We all got up to leave.

And then I realized it was noon.

I am extremely surprised that I made it through the next few hours, given how uncomfortable I felt. I was forced to wear a hooded sweatshirt and cover as much of my body as possible. However, pressing on in the face of a friend's need, we made it to the venue. The venue now surrounded by media and police.

Greyson stayed with Nadya, who had begun to deteriorate further, while Cyril, Agnes, and I somehow made our way inside. Within the venue, I saw Nasilah, which is something I couldn't do since Agnes cast her magic eyes on me. Now I have my own magic eyes, so I suppose I can only see her when she's not attached to Nadya.

Agnes poured quite a bit of power into Nasilah to heal the ghost. When Agnes was finished, I heard a voice in my head say "Move" and was immediately knocked on my ass as all of the doors were flung open.

Did I mention that the floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in blood?

Already uncomfortable, but thankfully not hungry, I was eager to leave, and to rest. We came to find out, however, that Greyson's windshield had shattered when Nasilah rejoined with Nadya. Nadya stepped out of nowhere and Greyson eventually made his way back to us. By that time, we had been joined by two members of Task Force Valkyrie: Bishop and Donovan. (NOTE: Finally figured out who that scent I've smelled on Agnes belongs to. That makes her actions and, dare I say, performance around this group slightly admirable. Unless there's something weird there, in which case, I would rather not think about it.)

My respite was not to be. Nadya mentioned, almost immediately after she entered, that she couldn't get in contact with Oliver and was worried. Cyril tried to trace him, but was stopped by some sort of metaphysical wall. Turns out that Oliver was trapped in some other dimension.

Apparently some mage named Vashard could likely find him, but no one knew how to get in touch with said mage. Nadya then called Marcus to ask for his assistance in finding Vashard, and Marcus told her to meet him at his mansion.

Tiredly, I followed everyone else in, only to get poked by a statue and to find out that we were, in fact, going to be facing some creatures (from a place called Pandemonium) in a "pocket dimension." I was already tired, so I simply followed other people towards whatever we were doing. Which was to go through a rip that this Vashard person had made.

On the other side of this rip, we found a handful of ugly creatures and pretty much all of the missing persons from the concert - including Oliver. I immediately fired on one of the creatures, trying to draw their attention to us, rather than their captives. It worked to an extent.

A few bullets, some spells, and a portal or two later, there were two left. One was next to Oliver, and the other was next to this scared looking fellow. Vashard had managed to get the creature next to Oliver to move away, so I made a point to take the shot, killing the creature and keeping Oliver safe. Agnes was then able to use some magic to drive the last creature into the ceiling with a spike, saving the other fellow.

The other three missing persons were dead. Thinking back, we should have grabbed their bodies. It would have been fewer questions asked if the bodies had actually been found. Hindsight is 20/20 I suppose.

While the others rushed to the sides of the two captives, I found a wall and leaned against it. Tired, and now with long raking claw marks on my torso, my only thought was how I was going to heal this and feed. I watched Nadya make Oliver's bruises disappear, then Cyril wake him up. I watched the other fellow be fireman carried by Bishop. Then came the point where we could all go home.

Vashard brought us to some ominous looking tree in a park (somewhere in Chicago, I suppose). He and Nadya got into a bit of an argument (as a quick rundown as I understand it: Vashard was...mystically enamored with Teresa, when the effect was broken, Vashard skipped town to get as far away as possible. Ultimately, this annoyed Nadya because 1) he didn't say goodbye and 2) he hadn't contacted her sense).

Finally, my temper got the better of me and I said something. I told them that it was fantastic that they were talking, but some of us are injured, and tired, and are very uncomfortable standing out in the sunlight (shade from the ominous tree notwithstanding). Vashard then asked if we were all going to go back to Nadya's, to which Nadya emphatically replied "No."

I shrugged, and asked the portal-loving mage to send me back to Marcus's mansion, as my truck was still there. When I arrived, I turned off my phone and started walking to my truck.

But Marcus was waiting for me.

Monday, February 3

Last night I met with Nadya, and I was able to learn more about Tessa and Teresa. Tessa is more likely to bust balls for fun, while Teresa is quite the sensual one. There's some strange relationships there between Tessa, Teresa, and Marcus.

Tonight was my introduction to the Camarilla. Consider a gathering of hungry, barely restrained doberman pinschers on steroids staring at you and you have the general idea. I introduced myself as I was instructed and then was immediately set upon by questions.

The Prince was kind, yet direct, in her questioning. She wanted to know of my future plans, of which I have none as of yet. She wanted to know...many things. It was all sort of overwhelming.

Next I was publicly interrogated by Tessa, the Seneschal. She wanted me to explain my introduction (in which I declared that I destroyed Taraton - which is in and of itself true, as I did fire the killing shot). Next was Teresa, the leader of the Invictus. She made a point of questioning whether or not I would be considering other covenants or blindly following my sire. I made a point of saying that I considered myself a fair- and open-minded individual.

After Marcus was discovered in the hall, he was escorted out and the Prince called an end to the Elysium. Afterwords I was invited by some of the Carthians to a club (Desire, no less) wherein Gabriella, a seemingly prominent member (and a Daeva, which is another clan of Kindred). The purpose of her invitation was to both entertain me and convince me to join the Carthians.

Sunday, February 2

Tomorrow I am to be presented to the Camarilla. Viviana took me to meet with a man named Vincent Delacroix, leader of a local covenant of Kindred called the Carthian Movement. Viviana is highly placed in this organization, so much so that she works for the international group, the Commonwealth.

While Viviana and Vincent caught up, I spent some time getting to know Vincent's childe, Celeste. She seems...sheltered. She subsists on blood packs and seemed surprised that I was "allowed out" on my own as young as I am. While relatively innocent and possessing a naivete that I did not expect to find among my new kind, she possesses a wealth of knowledge that will serve me in good stead.

The Camarilla is an organization of Kindred that can be very helpful as long as the rules are obeyed. This includes the Masquerade (which keeps our presence relatively hidden) and a strict no-new-Kindred-without-permission policy. Apparently it took Viviana quite some time and effort to secure the permission for my Embrace.

In terms of Kindred power, Viviana is supposedly higher than Vincent. I'm not certain how this power is measured, but if that's the case, then I seem to have been sired by a particularly powerful vampire. She reaffirmed this by telling me to make certain that when I introduce myself, I make sure to name drop her.

Apparently there are Kindred called Malkavians. This equates to a kind of insanity that many Kindred are forced to tolerate. One such Malkavian is called Apple. I'm not certain how she will take to me, but then again, I'm not certain how any of these powerful Kindred will take to me.

When Vincent returned, he made small talk with Celeste and me for a while as Viviana looked over the rest of the house. He made a small mention of a hunter problem, then confirmed that Nadya had ties to it without naming her specifically. He mentioned this group's ties to the Sheriff's wife, Persephone (not that he mentioned her either, but as I've met the pair...).

I learned a bit of the history of Chicago Kindred. The old Prince initiated a Purge that wiped out a fair few Kindred (as normally, harming other Kindred is forbidden). Then, one evening, she was simply ash and a Prince from Seattle, plus the good Sheriff, were in control.

I've been instructed to capitalize on my sire's friendship with the Seneschal of the court, one Tessa Duquesne. What makes this more interesting is that Tessa, along with Teresa, the leader of the Invictus (another Kindred covenant) are both tied to Marcus Purcell. The man is a spider in a web that is Chicago.

Presently, Vincent pitched the Carthians to me. He mentioned that it was a more modern covenant, for all it is one of the two largest in Chicago. Carthians and Invictus, followed by groups called the Ordo Dracul and the something Sanctum. I was told that I did not need to make an immediate decision, or that I needed to decide at all. (Later, Viviana told me she expected me to follow in her footsteps and join the Carthians. I may still speak with Teresa, if only to get to know her.)


I also found out that I belong to a clan: the Ventrue. The youngest, yet most lordly clan of Kindred. Finally, we discussed the Sheriff. He belongs to something called the Tremere. He is also able to make fire, which seems highly, dare I say "unnatural" for one of my kind.

The politics may be enough to drive me mad, nevermind that the leader of the Covenant I am expected to join has an issue with at least one of my current companions. And at the center of it all is Marcus, the spider, with more secrets and strands of web than a normal person could ever hope to unravel. Yet, he's the husband of the Seneschal, not to mention a good friend of my sire.

I don't think I traded one kind of madness for another, I think I simply stacked another set on top.

 I need to talk to Nadya before tomorrow night, see what she can tell me.

Saturday, February 1st

Apparently my new condition is innately rife with humor. Agnes sent a rather large basket of gifts, all centered around puns having to do with "eye." I won't bother to list them here, but I have a feeling I will be putting the laptop and iPad to good use in the future.

This is why it gave me great delight when, after arriving at Nadya's penthouse for a meeting, Agnes seemed preoccupied with my somewhat restored left eye. She tried to continuously steer topics towards where and how I had gotten that eye. I, however, made no effort to give her a satisfactory answer.

Part of the reason I kept that secret is simply due to amusement, yes. However, on the whole, the group seems as though they are quite antagonistic toward my sire, mainly for killing me. I would rather not see those two groups come to blows. I also begin to see how Greyson feels with his friendship toward Marcus. I do not doubt that Viviana can be viewed as evil, but I must drink blood to survive, so I am not one to judge.

On this night, discussed the gears we had seen. Greyson called them the God Machine. While ominous in its name, my biggest fear was that we would discuss and worry ourselves into a paralysis. We agreed to inform the rest of the group if we encountered another building with a gear (since our success rate with entering strange buildings was 0 for 3). We also met Nadya's friend Oliver. Apparently, he knew about me and what I had become already. In a panic, Nadya had asked him for help and guidance in terms of my Embrace. As I assume he didn't tell her to stake me and leave me to die, I bear him no ill will. He also keeps interesting acquaintances nearby.

After a round of introductions (and further Agnes-interrogation as to my eye), it was suggested that we look into the recent murder of one Kristine Velroy, a vitriolic fashion critic who had no short list of enemies. On the way, there was a scritching in the glove compartment of Nadya's van. She leaned over to open it...

...and out popped a dog - that spoke in a British accent.

He called himself Bruticus, or Little Brut, and said that he was looking for someone. Nadya told him that the person he had been looking for had died and wasn't coming back. The dog, Little Brut, then offered his services for our venture. I think the only shocked one in the car was Oliver, though Agnes seemed concerned about its creation. It mentioned a family recipe.

We arrived at the building and made our way upstairs. The idea of police presence already had Nadya on edge, but luckily, there was only one. The officer on duty was quite taken in by the performance hysterics of Agnes and Nadya, as each cried about a mysterious attacker. The old man bravely drew his gun and advanced toward the fictional threat.

Inside the apartment, we investigated. Aside from the grisly mess of blood on the floor (which, I will freely admit, made me lick my lips but nothing more) and the wall safe Greyson found, there was little to go on. Greyson found a few magazines and some money. Nadya, unsurprisingly, took it all. We decided to get gone, so Agnes magicked us downstairs and we left via the fire escape. A police car's spotlight found Greyson, and two cops started making their way toward us. Nadya just went invisible and Greyson took off running back into the building. Agnes convinced the officer that we weren't with Greyson, so he left us be. We went and got the van, then picked up Greyson who had apparently gotten away.

In order to get into the morgue, we had to get a "Big Jon" (apparently some kind of hamburger that is at least as big as the dog who wanted it) for Little Brut, so that he would use his contacts. Apparently, his contact was an acquaintance of Nadya's, who, after some discussion, a few remarks regarding "Yes, he's a vampire," and some reason for a congratulations, arranged badges for us.

We pulled into the morgue and found another dog, this one in a hat and trenchcoat. Apparently, this one was just "Brut." Brut had our badges and, after a bark or two at Little Brut (literally, he said the word "bark"), they left and got into a pink Cadillac.

After that wonderful bit of madness had passed, we made our way past a barely interested night clerk and found the body of the woman we were looking for.  Nadya, displaying hitherto unknown faculties, realized that the skin particles under the woman's fingernails were exactly as old as she was - essentially, her own skin. Nadya then started bleeding from her eyes, ears, and nose.

More concerned than hungry, I was a trifle annoyed with Agnes as she pulled me away. However, because of my new vantage point, I was able to see some form of an ephemeral being flee the mirror and go through the wall. Greyson noticed it as well, so after Nadya was cleaned up, we left the morgue. In the van, Greyson grabbed one of the magazines he found at the apartment and found the likeness of the ghost we'd both seen.

Seeking a way to confront the ghost, we discussed various ways of tracking it. Curious, I called my sire, as I assumed my ability to see ghosts had more to do with my eye and bloodline than my Embrace. She told me that at the start I could do very little, but if I found a container and marked it with some of my blood, I could force a ghost to enter it for a short time. Armed with this knowledge, as well as learning that Agnes could summon the ghost, we made our way back to 4430 Hawthorne, the mansion where I was Embraced. On the way, I marked one of Agnes's Thermoses with some of my blood.

At the mansion, we made our preparations, then summoned the ghost. It was angry and was staring daggers at Agnes. I attempted to force it into the bottle (not understanding that Agnes's salt designs would prevent it anyway) and failed. So I wasn't surprised when it turned its attention to me and just blasted me with...whatever force it had at its disposal.

And so it went. I had little direct impact on the battle. However, after it had been "defeated" and began to dematerialize, Agnes was able to force it into the Thermos, the "Govi Bottle." I then promptly gave the bottle to her.

After we returned to Nadya's place, and I retrieved my truck, I made my way back to my safe house.  A text message from Viviana, saying she had a surprise for me. I smiled, then put her advice to good use and used my blood to heal my wounds. After that experience, I was ravenous, but was able to make it home without issue.

As I entered my safe house, I rather quickly found Viviana, her dress slightly askew, and her surprise.

A naked, shivering girl on my table - and Marcus Purcell. Apparently, Marcus had procured a girl that no one would miss - a meal in celebration of my "first adventure as Kindred." (Kindred, it seems so much nicer than the word "vampire.")  I glanced at the girl, then turned away. A girl no one would miss is by no means willing, and whether or not a human will miss her, I would know. How does one reconcile their hunger with that guilt?

The simple answer is survival. If I did not drink, I would be reduced to the state I was in the night of my Embrace. With that hollow rationalization in mind, I drank. I drank that poor girl dry.

After a short discussion, Marcus moved to the corpse and did something that seemed so wrong to me (before I realized that, I am a walking corpse that has to drink blood, and I've the gall to be hypocritical...). He somehow...re-animated the corpse. The corpse stood and stared straight ahead, while Marcus seemed...overly appreciative of her form. They wanted me to admire her, but all I could consider was that I had just killed the girl and now she was some kind of a zombie.

Marcus apologized for entering unannounced and left with the corpse, using some form of darkness to leave the building. Viviana, my sire, applauded my attempts against the ghost, saying that it was rare for Kindred (I will continue using this word as opposed to vampire, I think, less chance of a slip up in public) to try themselves against so dangerous a foe. I had a few miniature lessons and insights, such as her first terrifying view of eternity, the fact that we do, in fact, appear blurry in mirrors and cameras.

I also found out that I am the second person that she has Embraced. She has said that she doesn't intend for me to go the way of him. That can mean many things, but it piqued my curiosity. I am also to be "introduced to the city" soon, at an all-Kindred meeting called "Elysium." There is a ruling body, called the Camarilla, and a "Prince", who is apparently female, beautiful, and kind. I am to meet and be presented to them, as a requirement.

Finally, she suggested I go to Marcus to learn how best to use my new acquisition, my sword cane. I don't trust him, but I also know that, to this point, he hasn't wished any lasting, permanent harm to me. I will probably pursue this.

I need a new place to live, something more fitting (and less embarrassing if my sire decides to stay over). My odd, random thought is to pursue the mansion on Hawthorne, family history and such. I've used Agnes's thoughtful gift of the laptop to research the property. I've a few hours until dawn to amuse myself...

Friday, January 31st (Events starting on....)

Tonight found me reviewing my writings from last night, when Viviana arrived. She seemed willowy, graceful, yet both here and not here at the same time. She seemed to almost dance through the room, waiting for me to ask her all the questions I had.

I asked her why she chose me, and she told me I had a will to survive. Even though running to save myself killed my partner, it kept me alive. It also kept me fairly hidden afterwards...until I joined in with the Island, which brought me to the attention one Marcus Purcell. It was Marcus that told her where to find me. She wanted to make me hers, which I suppose makes us a kind of family. "The one who got away" she called me.

Marcus knew what she wanted all along. He may be a bastard, but he's crafty. He didn't even betray a hint of her purpose at our meeting. Also, they're both fairly advanced in years. Viviana at least a thousand years and she's known Marcus since the age of Henry VIII. Prussian, germanic...could be useful to remember.

I am cursed to be constantly hungry for blood. It is supposed to get worse the older I become.

As for my missing eyeball, it was removed as part of a ritual of her bloodline - the Apollinaire. By removing an eye and replacing it with another, it gives me the ability to see into the next world. I'm certain it comes with a price, but it was either accept or be without an eye.

My first lesson was theory on "using the blood." Apparently, I can use the blood I drink to become stronger, faster, more resilient. In order to do that, I must let go of my past life and come to grips that things can never go back to the way they were. I had already come to this realization. Step one, complete.

We had a brief discussion on the nature of eternity as well as the organization of vampires. Then she inducted me into the Apollinaire, which was sealed by drinking from her wrist. My sight was completely restored. Amazing.

She remained in my safe house while I ventured out to retrieve my truck. Along the way, I had time to consider my thoughts from the previous night. Gavin is dead, this much is simple enough. No one who knew him longer than two weeks will miss him, and those that knew him most recently...they knew his shell, his facade. Easily enough changed.

When I first learned of the supernatural, the rest of my cell introduced me to a collection of fiction on the subject, with the reasoning that we had seen fiction in reality, so who knew how much of it is real. One of the stories was about a man, almost a mutant, supernatural in his own right, but who was skilled enough to, and often did, kill the monsters that plagued others.

My Embrace, as my sire called it, did not change who I am. I am a hunter, now merely with shifted hours and more potent tools at my disposal. And so, with Gavin dead, I find myself in need of a new name.  Having met a Persephone, it is not looked down upon to take the names of mythic or fictional entities.

Therefore, I now call myself Geralt. Where Gavin was fearful, Geralt is powerful. Geralt I will be, to those vampires I meet in the future. I will answer to Gavin among my group, but no longer will that name hold any meaning for me.

To complete the transformation, I've adopted an affectation from Marcus Purcell - a cane, with an eagle's head. The head can be twisted and withdrawn to produce a blade. I was in need a close combat weapon, and this sword cane is inconspicuous enough at first to keep me appearing harmless. Well, relatively harmless. I'm going to sew a loop inside my duster, my hunting clothes, as a sort of holster for the cane. We shall see how that progresses.

What shall I do with eternity? I have ideas, but nothing concrete. I need to gather a small powerbase to start, "dig a well", if you will.

Where shall I begin...?

Thursday, January 30 (Events starting on...)

Things are now different.

The meeting was a time of revelation. I had, in fact, met Viviana before. Once, when I was still a deputy sheriff, I took part in a raid on a local ranch. A number of missing persons cases had been traced to this location. My partner and I were assigned to investigate the barn in the rear of the property. As we entered the building, my partner was jumped by someone.

He fell to the ground and I had my rifle up and ready to fire. I called out to him in the black of the lightless barn, but all I heard was a strange moaning sound. Fumbling with the flashlight at my belt, I swept the floor with its beam until I found him and his attacker.

She had her mouth at his throat until the light found her, when she snapped her eyes up to look at me, her mouth red with his blood.  I dropped my flashlight and ran. I ran from danger, I abandoned my partner, and I blocked out the memory.  I had forgotten those eyes, those frozen, ice blue eyes staring at, into, and through me.

Forgotten, that is, until I saw them again.

From the moment I got out of my truck at midnight, it was sealed. Her voice led me through that mansion into one of the most grisly scenes I had ever encountered. A grim parody of The Last Supper, with dessicated corpses in place of Christ and his disciples. And those beautiful and terrible eyes.

"Do you remember me?" Her voice, preceded by a giggle, the giggle itself out of place in our surroundings. It simultaneously thrilled my being while sending chills up my spine. I could hear the exultation in her voice as she played with my senses. She mentioned my friends and how much help I would need soon.

And then...

"You left me once. I was going to spare you. Just you. Your friend...he was not worth it. He had a bad taste. A bad heart. You....a strong heart." Her arms wrapped around me as I made my ignorance plain.

Then...a piercing, a sublime, chilling ecstasy.

It felt as though it ended as abruptly as it had begun. I turned, slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of my attacker, my benefactor. She had moved again, behind me again. "Look. And you will remember..."

I turned once more, and those frozen eyes pierced me again. Despite the deprivation, despite the comfort her arms afforded me, I tried to draw a revolver. A revolver I had pre-loaded with those phosphorus rounds that I had already seen drastically affect her kind.

It was a useless gesture.

Before Thunder had cleared its holster, she was pressed against me. I had a few moments of sensation, of her full, lush body pressed against mine. Abruptly, the piercing ecstasy returned for a brief, eternal moment. Then all went dark.

I came to gagging, something clogging my throat. I coughed out the obstruction and blinked. Curiously, I felt only one eyelid brush against anything as it closed and opened. I looked over and Nadya had an eyeball in her hands. My eyeball.

My throat was parched and my hunger was almost overwhelming. I was able to sense panic. Greyson, showing some excellent forethought, handcuffed me. I attempted a struggle but I felt as if I was doomed to fail from the start.

Fear! Fire!

Nadya was on fire and it suddenly dominated my field of vision. I moved as quickly as my handcuffed form would allow, scooting as far away from her as possible. I noticed the mages moved quickly away from me while Greyson kept pace, though I was too hungry to mention it at the time.

They spent time discussing what to do with me. I don't recall most of it. I heard her voice, saying she would come to me when I was next alone, and she would teach me. The next thing I remember, I could feel pumping blood nearby. Greyson released me and my hunger caused me to latch onto the source of the blood. Greyson had procured a young woman who, losing blood though she was, coached those nearby in procedures. Later, I was dropped off at the junkyard.

I have had some time for reflection. The single, undeniable truth has circled in my thoughts like an inexorable march:

I am a vampire.

I am that which I hated, that which I hunted.

I am that which I feared.

In the time since I awoke, I have come to the realization that the old me, the old Gavin, was a creature of fear. It was fear that drove him to hunt. It was fear and weakness that drove him to lose his cell. The strongest thing that he ever did was to go after Taraton, but this was due to prodding by Greyson. His fear and weakness would have prevented him from doing what he needed to do.

I am no longer this weak creature. Gavin Abrams is dead. I will wait for Viviana and will consider my future, my identity.