The jewellery store where Isaac Abrams held audience was beyond tacky. Comfort and luxury were one thing, but the back room of the store screamed "filthy rich" louder than a babboon on steroids. Sitting behind a polished ebony-wooden desk, and clad in an expensive earth-tone suit and an arrogant smile, was Baron Isaac Abrams.

I decided to place prudence before prejudice and bowed curtly. "Good evening, Baron. My thanks for welcoming me into your city." They liked it when you called it 'their city'. And indeed, Abrams' smile widened into a grin.

"Greetings, Kindred. I must say I am pleased to see that the Traditions are not entirely lost among Neonates." I was by no means a Neonate anymore, but I ignored the insult. It was made out of ignorance more than malice.

"Prince LaCroix asked me to convey his greetings, Baron."

He chuckled. "Yes, of course, otherwise it wouldn't be clear enough who sent you, would it?"

I remained silent.

"Well, do be sure to return to him my kindest and most heartfelt sentiments." Sarcasm oozed off his voice.

"Goes without saying, Baron."

The Baron leaned back in his chair and swept a hand at the chair before him. "Do sit down." I did so. "So, tell me, what brings a servant of the Prince to Anarch territory?"

I had been sent to Hollywood by Prince LaCroix to recover a stolen sarcophagus, one I had been chasing for a while already, only to find out that someone had gotten to it before me. The Prince's outraged suspicions went in the direction of the Nosferatu, one called Gary in particular, since he was the only one with both the information and the organisation to attempt such a daring theft, right under the Prince's nose, and to my shame, mine too, but I preferred not to dwell on that too much. At any rate, the Nosferatu seemed to have gone into hiding lately for some obscure reason, and so it had once again fallen upon me to flush them from their holes. It promised to be an unsavoury expedition.

"I see," Abrams said. "Call me old-fashioned, but before I allow you to operate in my city, you will have to pay me some kind of tribute." Figured. "And since you're obviously pressed for time, I'll only ask a short favour of you."

I nodded.

"In your life, unwittingly or not, you have seen at least one Isaac Abrams production. DeNiro, Scorsese, McQueen, Dean, De Palma, Brando – I've worked with them all." He chuckled. "I remember some studio suit lost in time telling me that the only thing they could use Bogart for was to move furniture."

For understanding the urgency of my mission, he sure took his sweet time.

"I regularly scout for promising actors and directors, and they often contact me with propositions. Being the Baron of Hollywood, I can do any project I want. Right now I have an item I'd like you to pick up – a tape – and return to me. To show your good-will, so to speak."

"That's it? Simply pick up the tape and return?"

He spread his hands. "That's all. Like I said, just a simple errand. A token gesture on your part. It might appear a bit pointless to you, but I place great importance in tradition, and it's customary for a Baron to ask for a small service from every new Kindred."

"It's no problem at all, Baron," I lied.

He grinned. "Well, the Prince's agents seem to be improving in terms of manners. It does me pleasure."

"I do have questions, Baron."

He nodded. "Yes, of course you do, and I'll be glad to answer them when you get back." He smiled and rose, "I'll see you when you have my delivery, then?" It wasn't a question.

I rose as well. "You haven't told me where I should pick it up."

"Oh! Right!" he exclaimed, and the hesitated. "Well, the person who's making the delivery is a bit of a nervous type, and he wants to meet only on his conditions. You'll have to go to the Ground Zero – it's some Internet café nearby – and log on to one of the computers. Open account #12147, the password is 'Kafka'. There'll be an e-mail in the account's Inbox telling you where to meet him."

"Very well, I'll see you when I have your tape, Baron."

If I had still breathed, my breath would have come out in white puffs of air. It was positively cold. And even though I didn't have to shiver (I didn't have a body temperature to keep on level), cold was still as uncomfortable to me as it was to any living creature. It would seem we were only left with the negative traits of our former human selves. I hated waiting, and waiting in a cold and grungy alley was even worse. That paranoid twerp who wanted to give his little project to Isaac was testing my patience. It was probably some crap short-film with shoddy acting, made with a cheap hand-held camera.

"You alone?" a voice hissed from the shadows.

"Do you see anyone else?" I replied. "No? Then I'm probably alone."

The kid walked toward me, looking around edgily. The hood of his sweater was up, and short white puffs came from beneath it. He almost shoved the tape into my hands. "Take it!"

"What's the hurry?"

His eyes flicked back and forth to the sides of the alley. "Man, I need to get rid of that shit. Ever since I watched that fucking tape... weird shit's been happening, man. Like when the phone rings, and when I pick it up, I hear them breathing and then they hang up again. And I keep seeing things. Eyes in the darkness, from the corner of my eye, but when I look at them, they're gone. Man, I'm fuckin' scared!"

"What's on that tape?" I asked calmly.

He half-laughed nervously. "Oh man, it's totally disgusting. Shit, when it comes to video, I've seen everything, and fuck, I really mean everything. But that shit... man, it's... that girl... what they did to her... Fuck, just watch it, man!"

"I will."

He gave the tape another shove. "Shit, take it away from me as far as possible!"

Then he ran off, through the alleyways and back towards main street. I stood watching the tape in my hands, turning it over. The only thing I saw on the label was an emblem that looked like a distorted skull, but I couldn't quite make it out in the dark. And as I walked back to main street myself, my boot stepped on a manhole cover, and into a sticky and fresh puddle of blood.

"I trust you encountered no difficulty during this simple errand?"

Isaac's grin showed that he knew he'd sent me on more than a simple FedEx trip.

"No real difficulties, no. But somehow I have a feeling that this isn't some cruddy tape from an inept-yet-hopeful director-wannabe."

He nodded. "I wish I could say it'll be a refreshing change, but I'm afraid that won't be the case." He paused, rubbing his chin. "In fact, I'd like you to watch it together with me."

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously. Surely he didn't need someone to hold his hand during the scary bits?

He gave me a frown that showed he knew what I was thinking. "I'd like you to watch this tape with me because I know why you're here, and this tape might help your assignment." Should have known he already knew what I'd come for.

He pushed a button on his desk and part of the wall slid open with a soft buzz. Behind the sliding door was a large TV-screen and a VCR. He slid the tape into the VCR and sat down, swivelling his chair so he could watch.

At first only static showed up. It reminded me of some horror movie I'd seen when I was still alive, where people died after seeing a certain video.

"Maybe we need to fast forw-" Isaac began, but just then the static turned into a black screen. And that, in turn, changed into the view of a red room.