Lesser Evils
A/N: I do not own the World of Darkness, and all references to such belong to White Wolf Publishing.
She dreamed of blood. Rivers and lakes and oceans of blood, enough to satisfy even the insatiable Beast that howled and gibbered and clawed at her vitals and tried to devour the essence of her in lieu of the blood it craved.
There were brief moments of consciousness, when the true scent of fresh blood penetrated her delirium, and then she would crawl across the floor of her prison to the vessel there, only to be denied satisfaction by the Beast itself. Always, the offering was the wrong vintage; too green, too ripe, wrong grape, wrong pressing. Still, she tried; once, she managed to actually sink her fangs into the limp wrist and swallow a few mouthfuls of still-warm fluid. Immediately, the Beast punished her, forcing her to purge all that she had swallowed, and she retreated back into her delirium, unaware of how she scrabbled at the walls with filthy broken nails, or flung her body frenziedly against the stone walls, or huddled on the damp floor, shuddering helplessly beneath the Beast's rage…
"It's in their best interest, too."
Renae Yates stole a sideways glance at the other vampire. His yellow-green cat eyes were trained on the road, and she couldn't read his expression, but she detected no mockery in his voice.
"How so?"
Her voice was flat, as if she didn't particularly care. Which pretty well summed up the last eight years of her existence.
"Think about it," Vic replied. "As long as the Kindred are keeping the Masquerade, as long as they're following the Camarilla traditions, mortals are safer than when they're not. You know that, Renae. Think about the Sabbat-controlled cities you've been to."
The red-haired vampire closed her eyes and shuddered. Oh yes, she remembered that, all too well. Still…
"Better if we could just get rid of them all."
Vic nodded slowly, well aware of which "they" she referred to. "Maybe. But think it through, Yates."
"If it's just you, you'd be lunch within a week. And you'd have made no difference at all."
"If you had allies—it would be worse. You think the jyhad is bad? Elder against childer? Bring in someone, anyone, from the outside, and watch how fast they circle the wagons. And when they're preparing for war, even if they stick to just defending themselves, what's their prime resource? The same people you're trying to protect. They'll die, Renae, faster than ever. Unless you help me convince the Kindred that playing by the Camarilla's rules is the safest, the easiest way for them."
She absorbed his words in unbroken silence, save for the rumble of the engine and the hum of the wheels against the road. Finally, she sighed—a deliberate signal, he knew. Both of them were long out of the habit of breathing.
"So…where are we going?"