Prologue

How long had he been walking down this asphalt road? Light post after light post, car after car, mile after mile, the surroundings seemed to never change, like he was caught in a glass wheel. Impatience does that to a man, but hunger is much worse. The emptiness, that cold feeling that reminded him he was dead, was enough to drive him psychotic, though few could call this life sane. How long had it been since his embrace, months, years, decades even? Time had lost whatever meaning it had once had for him. Immortality will do that to a man.

But hunger is much worse.

The hum of a distant engine pricked his ears and brought him back from the twisted coils of his mind. Dusk had overtaken the sun some time ago and now stars dotted the sky like tiny suns themselves. It was a state road, far from the cities, or anything for that matter, close to the river that separated one country from another. He mused for a moment that with a few well placed jumps he could probably cross into Mexico. The heat was stifling, humid even at night, and could he sweat he knew his clothes would be sticking to his body like a wet towel.

Forests cropped the risen road on either side, forming a natural trench barricading it from any foliage. His mind wandered again to a similar experience in the forest, months ago(or was it years, it didn't matter anyway) when he had encountered a predator that made him look like a newborn fawn.

But that was a long time ago, and the car was what concerned him now.

A single engine at first, humming dully inside the steel belly of whatever beast they rode upon tonight. Diesel, the low baritone notes gave it away. Trucks and lots of them. At least four or five. They always brought trucks, subterfuge destroyed in exchange for carrying capacity. It didn't matter. He made no effort to hide himself. In fact, 'he' was the one who tipped off the shovelheads on where he was and when he'd be there.

'…they hit like a mack-truck.'

And every time they met it was like that mack-truck rammed itself straight into a brick wall. Lots of carnage, lots of noise, and you can't even tell what the driver looks like at the end of it. But it ain't the wall that's gonna break.

The engines were lost in his mind now; dinner chimes rang in their place. Meals on Wheels, the thought tickled him darkly. These were no longer the thoughts of a man but a predator with food speeding straight into his gullet. The engines grew louder, the distant sound drawing closer and accelerating. They had spotted him, and it was about damn time.

He untied the belts wrapping his body around a huge slab of iron. He quickly scooped it into his arms and stared at the dull metal, remembering fondly the now dead gorilla whose hands he had pried this from. How weak he was back then, cowering in front of that behemoth. But he had since stepped a few places higher on the food chain.

High beams cut into the darkness and surrounded him like searchlights. Five of them, windows pulled down with shovelheads sticking their heads out like stupid dogs. 'Dogs driving in a tin can straight off a cliff,' he thought. The thought made him laugh aloud, but everything about the Sabbat was funny. Their desire to rule over humans; that whole superior species bullshit; it all reeked of Saturday morning cartoons and evil villains tying woman to train tracks.

"Fun to watch though, like the Three-Stooges with chainsaws."

He laughed at the thought and the stinging of dozens of bullets shredding his body only made him laugh harder. 'Is this the part where they slam the pies into each others faces or the part where they end up pissing off the wealthy dowager? Oh wait, I know this scene.' The convoy picked up to ramming speed ready to run his body down and do donuts on the pieces. The roaring engines, howling of bloodthirsty shovelheads, bangs of bullets, splattering of blood, it was all the biggest punch-line he ever heard to a joke he already knew.

'This is the part where they realize they just made a big, fucking mistake.'

He swung the massive slab without skill, but with the pure blunt force of a hurricane flipping the truck like a toy, end over end right into its neighbor. The two steel beasts cried out in a screeching mass of steel twisting into one another and spraying their occupants out in a rain of red mist, ash, and body parts. They tumbled over the side and down into the ravine crashing deep into the forest below. He surveyed the ground and found a living morsel laying conveniently at his feet. His body twisted and flayed he would not last long, but the gods punish those who waste food.

Curses and taunts from the living few still reached his ears like 'Diablarist Bastard', 'Cocksmoking, Camarilla Fuck,' and even 'Fucking Monster'. He laughed again at the last one as he picked up the thrashing, spewing meat and sunk his fangs into its neck. Sweet necter, the first drop was like taking a long breath after crawling up from the bottom of the ocean. He lapped up the last trickles of it slowly as the body turned to ash in his hands satisfied but not sated.

It was now, finally confronting the object of their hunt that they realized that every evil rumor and whisper about him had been true.

One step propelled him towards the trucks so fast the fools did not even have time to revile in fear before the iron slab stabbed through the windshield and killed the occupants inside. Ash and bone flittered where bodies had once been as he left the dull blade inside the wound on the truck and bound towards the bed. The remaining shovelheads inside began firing wildly on him, desperate for one of their bullets to be the last nail in the coffin towards this monstrosity's final death. But they asked for too much.

The first died mercifully its head separated from the body in one, effortless swipe. The second was not so lucky and died caught in the jaws of a predator that shook his body ravenously until the last drop of blood was spilled. The taste of ash filled his mouth as he spit out the remains spoiling an otherwise satisfactory kill.

Still, this was disappointing. The shock troops of the Sabbat were fast food quality at best and served only to wet his appetite for the main course. But where was it? The smell of elder blood maddeningly teased his senses, and the Beast began to break free with every passing second. He steadied his mind for a moment attempting to chain the beast back into its pen and did not notice the shadows slowly creeping around the truck.

But it only took a moment for his predator's senses to realize the danger all around him. He leaped high into the air and drove himself backwards just as shadows reached from the ground and crashed into the trucks sides. The cacophony of screeching metal and broken glass silenced under the waves of shadows crunched on the car like the black maw of a monster. But to him, no sight could make him happier.

Lasombra. He treated the word like a first love and reveled in the memories they had together. Their first kiss when he had lovingly placed fangs upon their pale, porcelain skin and penetrated him, letting the contents spill like the juices a ripened fruit; licking up the dregs from the grass next to his ashen corpse; slicing open his abdomen and gorging himself on the sweet viscera that came out; they were all fond memories.

This Lasombra bore the marks of her clan. Her rather revealing red dress flaunted the alabaster skin reflecting light like a full moon while the raven black hair drooped without form like a mass of shadows clinging to her back. It was cruel fate that the Lasombra could not see themselves for out of all the prey he had feasted upon they were the most beautiful. But despite how entrancing they were in the end, meat was still meat and hunger took precedent

The shadows lurched towards him again. Dozens of black fingertips reached across the road flanking and encircling his sides. She commanded the black mass like an army in a classic pincer maneuver. She was certainly an elder. There was no wasted movement in the shadow, and every stroke and quiver of the darkness had been calculated by a master strategist.

Shame it was all for naught as any other kindred would have fallen easily to her tactics. But for him it was child's play. The earlier sabbat's blood would serve him well here as he felt the warmth course through his body for an instant activating his discipline before leaving him cold once again. The shadows that had been like wriggling worms before began to slow. The black mass moved sluggishly as if a freezing cold had frozen it in place. Not just the shadow, the Lasombra herself seemed frozen in time. The years of Diablary had increased the potence of his Celerity beyond Kindred comprehension. Time slowed to a drip as every second lurched painfully forward

He wondered for a moment what they saw as he ambled towards the remaining two. Would his body by like a translucent mist swimming around them quickly and effortlessly? Or were they too seeing the slowed motion, the inevitability of their doom. He flicked his arm towards the remaining shovelhead and punctured a gigantic wound in his chest. Slowly the skin began to flake piece by piece, hovering slightly in the air for a moment before becoming ash. He wondered if there was pain in death, if now in the realm of his discipline this poor soul could feel the final death creeping across his body while every part turned to dust. Unfortunately the urging of the Beast kept him from waxing philosophically for a moment longer.

There she was; a ceramic statue frozen in the prime of her life. Her visage betrayed no hint of fear, hatred, nor emotion at all. It was like she had accepted her inevitable fate, had realized the mistake she and so many others had made before. He reached out and touched her cheek, feeling the cool softness of her skin and felt panged that the body no longer gave heat. Whatever humanity that was left in his dead frame, the parts of him that longed for love, companionship, laughter, even sorrow, all the things that made life worth living cried out from the deepest parts of him in one defiant stroke to show him guilt again. Life was amazing and living the greatest treasure he had ever held.

Too bad he was already dead. He hugged the motionless woman in a tight embrace, opened his mouth wide, and bit down on the moonlit skin. The first drop on his tongue electrified his entire body. At that moment he wanted to devour her, rip open her neck and tear out the blood like a dog. But he restrained the beast just this once. This would be delicate; he would savor every drop of the blood. He let it wash around his mouth, rolling it across his tongue and over his teeth before slowly letting it fall down his throat and into his dead stomach. The sensation of every drop etched itself in his mind; he wanted to remember this moment. The feeling of her cool skin, the electricity of the blood dancing on his tongue, and look of complete acceptance on her still frozen face, all carved into his mind forever.

He forgot how long he had been draining her, but inevitably the river of blood grew dry and his hands felt the flakes of ash begin to form on her skin. He reluctantly pulled away. His belly was full, and the beast sated for now. He wondered how many seconds had passed in reality as the sabbat he killed earlier was still in the midst of decomposing. He turned his back to both of them and felt a shudder through his body as he let the discipline end. No screams from either, just a small flash and then the dull thud of bone hitting the pavement as ash clung to his back. Only the rumbling of the remaining truck's engines could be heard. He walked towards the remains of the truck he had destroyed earlier, its occupants now piles of ash, and pulled the massive slab from the front. The metal screeched in protest before as he gripped the handle and slung it on his back, redoing the leather straps to keep it there.

And just like that, another night and another feast ended. How many had died the final death at his hands? How many different vampire's blood soaked through his body? How many years since human blood could no longer satisfy him? Time was fluid and impossible to grasp for immortals, and so he walked on without purpose only to feed the persistent hunger growing in his belly.

"What a monster you have become childe."

He turned on his heel and grasped the handle of his weapon. He did not sense the individual approaching from his rear in the slightest. Not even Nosferatu had been able to catch him off guard in these last years. A man stood where the voice had come from. He expected something grand or elegant from the Sabbat. Perhaps one of the Tzimische or the Assamite he had heard so much about. But there was nothing remarkable about this man. Average height, shorter than himself, and a rather insignificant looking frame that looked like it would snap like a twig in his strong hands. A dull-grey polo shirt, black, pleated pants, and worn brown loafers, even his clothes looked like they had come from a convenience store bargain sale. Still, a cold chill was running through his body. Every archaic sense and predatory instinct demanded flight. For the first time in so many nights, he felt true fear from this plain looking man.

"Who are you," he finally spat trying hard to keep his voice even.

"Do you remember what I told you childe?" The voice came from the side, and he spun to confront it gripping the handle of his weapon even tighter. The plain man sat patiently in the driver's side of the diesel truck his fingers lightly tapping against the steering wheel. "Wherever we go, it is the blood of Caine that makes our fate."

The passenger's side door opened slowly, inviting him in. His first impulse was to refuse, if he even knew what he was refusing. But somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered his man. The accent he couldn't place, the cryptic messages, and the knowing that seemed a part of him like the knowledge flowed through his own blood. In the end, he found he had no reason to refuse or couldn't refuse at all. He wasn't sure which, but either way he was left with only one option.

He unstrapped the iron slab from his back and tossed it into the bed of the truck before climbing into the passenger side and shutting the door.

"Where are we going?"

The man didn't even turn to face him but casually placed the truck in gear and drove away from the wreckage.

"To the final nights childe."