Cold. So fucking cold. My feet, my thighs, my stomach, my arms, my face, everything. So cold. My arms were curled up against my chest, my heart was racing. My throat tensed, I could feel my tendons straining against my skin.

And then there was something soft on my skin. It was warm. Like velvet. Enveloping me up to my chin.

I was in bed. The comforter, soft and encompassing.

But I was still so fucking cold.

I was staring into my eyelids. There was a light on in the room, in the room with my bed. What bed?

My eyes snapped open as I simultaneously took a quick and deep inhale.

That bedroom. Jann's manse. Club. Fighting. My neck. They tried to suck me dry. My chest rattled, a small movement, a weight on my chest. There was someone beside me. I had to peel my gaze away from the ceiling.

It was blue eyes that looked down at me.

Gabriel.

"You okay, kid?"

His voice was flanged, like my ears were constricted inside a metal tube. Like he was a million miles away. But his face was only a foot away from mine.

"Charlie, you alright?"

Normalcy. I was back in the safety and quiet of my bedroom. Gabriel had come to my rescue. "They were gonna kill me," I blurted out, my memories assaulting my mind in one giant wave. And my heart raced, my fists balled into knots, and I trembled under the blankets.

"Easy, kid," he rubbed my fist in an attempt to calm me down, I suppose. "Yeah, they'd have snuffed you if I hadn't showed up. Seemed pretty pissed to see me there, you remember anything they said?"

I remembered every damn thing. What I couldn't relive, though, were those minutes of uncontaminated bliss. Were they minutes? Hours? I knew damn well what was taking place in that stagger of memory, but it was just so... well, truth was, I never felt anything like it. This is what the ghouls knew? It almost felt like what drugs would feel like. I wouldn't know, but I could imagine. Addicting... if you had an addictive personality.

"Charlie?"

Fading out, was I? "Oh, yeah, I think I remember... something about you being a player, Jann's a phony, and that I'm going to eventually die if I stay with your group. What do you think about that?"

"It's a load of shit is what it is," Gabriel scowling, absent-mindedly withdrawing his hands. "They have a lot of nerve attacking you like they did. Believe me, we're looking into it."

But somehow, it didn't perturb me. They called themselves by the same name. "You Anarchs aren't very united, are you?"

He didn't make eye contact as he replied. "There's scum everywhere."

Ain't that the truth.

"They didn't damage you too much. Seemed like they wanted to take turns from you til you ran dry. I'd say you lost about a pint at most. Nothing a good steak or two for yourself would put the pep back in your step."

"I have no pep," I mumbled, rolling my eyes. I felt fine, surprisingly. Tired, yes. Still cold, yes. My throat. I quickly withdrew my hand from under the blanket, feeling where they'd bit me.

"I fixed that for you. It didn't take long to get rid of them, and your cuts were fresh."

I eyed him as I felt around my neck and felt nothing aside from the thinning scabs from Shand. I didn't feel a damn thing. It was surreal, the fleeting thought that perhaps I'd had dreamt the whole thing. Though that was far from the case. My stomach suddenly growled, painful and loud. I glanced at the clock beside my bed. Just after two am. Surely, Gabriel hadn't sat with me this whole time? We'd only gotten to the club not much past ten.

"I think there's some canned food in the kitchen. Sorry, we don't keep anything fresh around here. For human consumption, anyway." He rolled his eyes, sighing and standing up. "You sure you feel fine?"

"Should I not?" I raised my eyebrow at him. "You didn't work some weird vampire trick on me, did you?"

"Hell no, I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole," he scowled, "you're spoiled goods, anyway."

"You fucking licked me, idiot," I scoffed, sitting myself up on the bed. I was still in the same clothes as I'd been in at the club. I was lying in the filthy courtyard, and then someone decided it was a good idea to stick me in my bed in those same grimy clothes? I gave him a dirty look. Thanks for soiling my sheets, dick.

"I don't think Jann would have appreciated it if I hadn't otherwise."

"And what the hell do you mean by 'spoiled goods'?" I was certainly feeling cold, but with some movement and walking around, I was sure to feel better. And maybe a decent sweater.

"You're Jann's, if you didn't know by now. And Shand tainted you."

"I don't know what you mean." I really didn't. Did this have anything to do with Jann calling me 'special?'

He narrowed his eyes at me, the lamp carving hard shadows on his face. "You're not... Well, you're human, not a ghoul, but there's something weird about you. I don't think anyone else notices."

Flashes of the antagonistic remarks by those bullies. He was insulted when I called them 'you guys.' It echoed in my mind, but what was its significance? "I want to know what you mean."

He shook his head, turning and taking a step away.

"No," I flipped the covers back and slid my legs to the floor. Damn him, he'd left my shoes on, too. In my bed, dirt and mud and all. Remind me to find some fresh sheets after I find myself some nourishment. "Please, I need to know."

"I don't know, it can't be explained. Go find some food, I have things to do."

I watched him make his way to the door. "Gabriel!" I called out as he reached the open door that led out to a dark hallway.

He paused for a millisecond, then disappeared into the darkness.

And I was alone.

Damn him. Damn me. Calling out to him like a fucking loser. Arrogant prick.

I got out of bed, went to the closet and extracted the first sweater I spotted. It was grey, more like a duster. It would do. I went quickly to my doorway and peeked out, thankful for the empty hallway. I walked silently to the stairwell at the end of the hall, descending slowly. I was fairly positive that the chattering voices downstairs were coming from some distance away. With each descending step, I was certain that it was coming from that sitting room at the end of the hallway of the west wing where they liked to meet. The room was far enough away that I could undoubtedly slip by unnoticed, to the kitchen to find some canned crap. Images of food drifted through my mind. Forget them. Jann wanted me here for whatever reason, and so no one could say dick all to me.

The foyer was dimly lit, and a floor lamp behind the second set of French doors that led to the stately front door was the only source of friendly light in the vicinity. Low LEDs lit the hallway near the floor, but they were merely useless mood lights. I had just descended into the fading reaches of the floor lamp when I heard a woman's voice just crossing the threshold into the foyer.

I could hear her before I could see her.

"...Should be fine. ... This will work, trust me."

I froze on the stairwell, flabbergasted. It was too late to make a sudden retreat back upstairs, I'd make too much noise. The movement would alert her. Not just a her, it was Donna. The recognition came half a second after I comprehended her words. And so there I was, flattened against the wall, not even four steps from the landing, staring wide-eyed at the incoming figure not nearly ten feet away from me. She closed in fast, her hand pressing her cell phone to her ear.

If she saw me, heaven only knew how she'd react. There was no doubt in my mind that she had something against me. Whether it were a powerplay or something even more petty, she wouldn't fancy my eavesdropping on her conversation.

So when she strode past my paralyzed form not hardly four feet in front of me without casting a single glance my way, I blanched, my skin crawling with icy trickles that prickled into my flesh. How the hell had she not seen me? I was screaming to myself, only my eyes following her movements. She made a U-turn and went back toward the hallway. But I could already tell that she wasn't going back to the meeting room just yet. No, she was making circles in the foyer, out of earshot from everyone.

But not from me.

"He won't know. I met with Craw, that's Boor's secretary, she knows all about it. ...Right."

As I predicted, she turned around and approached me again. I remained motionless, trying to merge into the wall, willing her not to look my way.

And again, she passed by me. And she didn't look too thrilled with whoever she was on the phone with. "You will, damn it, this has to happen, or else she'll never take our word. ...Yeah, I know that. But this is the most important thing. He can't fuck this up, or else we're fucked."

Could she really not see me? But I didn't dare move. There was no way my grey duster, let alone my brunette qualities would camouflage into a beige wall. Had to be a 60 watt bulb in that floor lamp. It was no more than twenty feet away from me, but it wasn't that dim over here by the stairs. As she came back around toward me, the wall of the stairwell obscuring her point of view, I turned my head slightly to the side. I could see the shadows of the second floor didn't begin until at least ten steps above me.

So how could she not see me? I was practically standing there, awkwardly, I would like to declare, with each foot planted flatly on a different step, my shoulder hunched mid-descent. I'd managed to lean my head against the wall to stabilize this insane pose.

How long could I remain unnoticed?

"He won't. I went over it a million times with him already. ...Yeah, three times. He's not that stupid. My biggest worry is him growing cold feet. He can't pull out. You need to make sure of this. ...Yeah, I know, don't we all."

Another pass. She would be turning around again.

But she turned the opposite way, going toward that divan I'd awoken on a couple of times. All thanks to Gabriel. Disgruntled protector. Donna paused in her stride, looking stiff. Her back was to me. "She'll do it, I don't thinks he has a choice, anyway. Just fucking do it. He needs your help, and I really don't care how you do it. ...Don't give me that shit. You think he'll be the first one? You better get used to it."

She began walking again, more slowly this time, then turned, leaning her elbows on the back of an armchair, absently looking around the room. And being that the armchair faced me, her face was looking in my direction. Like slow-motion, I watched her eyes meander across the room. And her line of sight passed right over me.

But... she had to have seen me. There was no way. It wasn't that dark over here. Hell, I wasn't even in shadow. So why hadn't she reacted to me?

And then my back began to cramp.

Not the achy kind, but the pulling kind. I was pulling my back out trying to hold this pose. It sucked getting old. It was irregular; expected, but not so soon. "He won't. Talk to him now. Tonight. Tomorrow will be too late. ...I don't give a damn!"

I contained the surge of fear that threatened to make me twitch, let alone bolt back upstairs to the false safety of my designated confines. Still, she had not looked at me!

"I will take it to Boor. Una will approve. But this isn't about her, damn it. ...Yeah, I'm looking into it. I'm finding some interesting things. ...No, I'll talk to you in person about it. Oh, it's a big deal, you have no idea. But you need to focus on Martin right now, or else this'll all fall apart. And it'll be your fault. I wouldn't want that, would you?"

I could have sworn I heard a response in submissive word and tone: "No."

Could've been my head, though.

Whoever was on the line was a silent one indeed, despite Donna's responses to the voice. I hadn't heard a single other voice at all. Was it man, woman, human, vampire, something else?

"That piece of shit, no, I don't want to talk about it. He hasn't brought it up. ...No, I'm fine. Whatever. ...Yeah. Do that." And she hung up.

As if I wasn't cramped enough, I felt horribly self-conscious of every muscle and fiber in my body, of the way my clothes hung on me, how my shoes didn't quite fit right, and my ponytail pushing against the back of my head against the wall. I stared at the armchair, not risking having my eyes move to follow her. But she merely fiddled with her phone for a few seconds and then huffed and stalked back toward the sitting room down the hallway.

And not once did she look my way. She disappeared from view, and I exhaled, relief flooding through me, making me collapse onto the stair. I was starting to shed a thin layer of sweat. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths.

I made sure her footsteps died into the quiet hum coming from that room before I opened my eyes. I stood up and quickly slipped around the corner, taking a hasty glance down the hallway where she'd disappeared to. I couldn't see any movement down there, but I had no doubt they were all in there. Nevermind them, I needed to eat something.

I dimmed the kitchen lights, hoping it wouldn't catch anyone's attention should one of them pass by. I doubted they came in here, it wasn't like they ate anything of substance in this house. But I couldn't be too sure. As Gabriel had thought, there were some miserable cans of instant food in a cabinet, but I opted for the ramen noodles hiding in the back. They were probably out of date, but at this point, boiling water and salt should take away the rotten impurities.

A bowl of noodles had never tasted so good. The salt would do wonders for my blood pressure, but that couldn't be helped. The heat warmed my bones and I savored every single squiggly noodle.

I was nearly done when I heard footsteps coming from the foyer.

I scrambled out of the stool, grabbing the bowl and moved to the counter that was unseen from the kitchen doorway. I hoped I didn't make a sound. Like a moron, I held the bowl up and cringed, dreading an unwelcome visit. I stared up at the ceiling, muttering silent prayers in my head for that person to be exiting the building rather than be coming to the kitchen over an empty stomach. Sure enough, I heard keys jangling. Someone was leaving, most likely. One of the girls – er, ghouls – perhaps? The footsteps came and went past the kitchen, and I held my breath in anticipation of a satisfactory sigh of relief.

The door to the garage closed behind them, and I exhaled a "thank God" and opened my eyes, setting down my cooling bowl of broth.

"That's rather interesting, I have to say."

I squeaked and twitched violently, glad that the bowl was already on the counter and far enough away from my jolting hands. I swirled around toward the door. It was Jann. I closed my eyes for a moment, willing my heart to stop pounding out of my chest. "It's you," I said, hoping I wasn't visibly shaking.

He was leaning on the wall by the doorway, but now he unfolded his arms and approached me, looking at me curiously. "Would it be a trigger or a progression of time, I wonder?"

I eyed him, pushing my bowl of broth toward the sink and covertly taking a step away from him. "What are you talking about?"

"Those Anarchs were Caitiff, there is no affiliation whatsoever," he said. I wasn't sure if he was talking to himself. Most likely intentionally speaking low so I'd strain my ears to listen. "But she's showing all the symptoms, save the most important ones. Charlie," he exclaimed, stopping to lean on the island directly across me. He took no notice of my tension. "Are you aware of your abilities?"

"What abilities?" I furrowed my brows, at a loss to his peculiar statements.

He tilted his head, eyes glinting from the dim recessed lights above him. "So you aren't consciously doing this?"

"What are you talking about?" The noodles weren't settling very well in my stomach now, thanks to Jann.

He looked away for a moment, nodded, then turned back at me. "Follow me."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out of the kitchen. I followed, my mind a whirl trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. What was I doing? Or did I do? Abilities? Did this have something to do with those Dominance and Celerity thing that Gabriel talked about? I followed him to his office door, which he was in the process of unlocking, then ushered me in ahead of him.

The room was pitch black.

I looked at him questioningly, but decided against asking him about turning on the light. Again, as an afterthought, I realized he could read my mind anyway. There was no reason to disguise my internal complaining into words, he'd heard it all correctly the first time. Annoying. So I walked in, then tripped forwards when I felt him coming into the room behind me and shutting the door.

The lights were still off, though now that my eyes had adjusted, there was a miniscule amount of moonlight coming in through the curtained windows at the far end of his office.

Was he – what was he planning? Why hadn't he turned the light on? I turned around and took a step back, seeing nothing but blackness in front of me.

"Hm, fascinating," he broke the heavy silence in the room, and the soft yellow lights were suddenly bright.

I found myself nearly tripping over an end table, trying to hide my wide-eyed fear of being alone with him in a dark room. I felt ashamed, then immediately livid. "What the hell was that for?"

He walked past me, ignoring my discomfort. "You ate, I presume you're having a cigarette?"

Oh right. Why, thank you for being so considerate of my subconsciously suicidal habit.

He reached the desk and pulled out the filigreed glass ashtray, placing it beside the armchair I'd sat in before, then turned around and looked at me. I was still standing in the front sitting area, recovering from that moment of cold dread. Yeah, I'm coming, I grumbled in my mind. You can hear me, I know this.

He was already seated and settled by the time I got to my armchair. I withdrew a cigarette from the pack I'd stowed in my back pocket, clicked it alight with Gabriel's lighter, and sat down, crossing my legs and moving the ashtray a little closer to me. "Care to tell me what you're talking about?" I asked. I wasn't going to let him lead the conversation astray.

"You clothed yourself into the shadows," he replied. "You obfuscated, was this intentional?"

"I don't know what you mean." But wait, obfuscated meant obscured, which meant hiding. Was this... "You mean I hid myself from view?"

He nodded, his patient expression irritating me.

So why didn't he say anything? I stared at him for a moment. Oh. "No, it wasn't intentional."

He nodded again. "Honesty, it's commendable. So is fastidiousness, you pay attention to details. You've obfuscated before?"

"I wasn't hiding from you in the kitchen," I frowned, taking an anxious pull from my cigarette.

"But you were hiding from the ghoul walking down the hallway."

"But you... when did you come in the kitchen, anyway?"

"A moment after the ghoul passed. You let your ability linger."

Linger? 'The ghoul?' He hated humans, that's what they said. Did he not even refer to them by their names? That didn't sound right, he'd said them before. Hadn't he? But now I was digressing. Was it a conscious effort? It had to be. Just like... "That seems right. I get it now." If I didn't want to be seen, then perhaps I couldn't be seen. "You mean I can hide in plain sight?"

"In dimness. In darkness, it isn't an effort on your part at all, I see now. This is why I delayed turning on the light just before. Furthermore, you should know that this ability isn't effective in daylight."

So that explained why Donna didn't see me. Why the clubber had nearly tripped over me back at Stockholm.

"This is something new for you?"

"How the hell did this happen?" Were their abilities contagious? Who had Obfuscate around here?

"As I said, Martin shows Malkavian tendencies, but not this aspect. This would eliminate any tampering on his part. It had to have been from Shand, who also showed Malkavian tendencies. I sensed this in you before, though it didn't manifest itself until now. Two days. Hm," he seemed to regress into his own thoughts out loud. "That's all it took, very fascinating. But only..." He looked back up at me. "When Shand gave you your throat injury, explain to me what happened."

"Would it be enough to play the memory?"

He seemed irritated at this. "I cannot see into your mind. Tell me the memory."

Which I supposed meant he could only hear my thoughts. It took a moment to take myself back to that disturbing evening. The night all this stupid shit began. "He... bit me, rough, not like how he bit Brooke. Obviously," I touched the jagged scabs along my throat. Truth was, he was tearing at me like a wild animal. It was no smooth operation on his part. Rather, clawing and grasping. Violent.

Funny how he didn't say anything until my thoughts paused. "I see," he trailed off, his eyes focused on something distant from me.

I pulled on my cigarette again, ashing into the decorated plate. Entirely too fine to be used as an actual ashtray. But it was mine nonetheless. "So you think Shand's bite infected me with his Malkavian abilities?"

"Perhaps." He turned back to me, his eyes bright with academic enthusiasm. I dared say he was attractive at this very moment, but I hastily stuffed that down the crapshoot of thoughts not worth pondering. He went on: "He gave you no blood, yet he had just finished feeding and killing Brooke, so it's possible that his body was to capacity with fresh blood. Some of his blood may have mingled with yours when he broke your skin. He missed your artery, yet, despite the human body's natural tendency to excrete any foreign matter, his blood managed to circulate into your system. I can't know the exact amount. He must have had an abrasion. You say he wasn't yet injured at this point?"

I shook my head, marveling at his scientific analyzation.

"There had to be, somewhere. An incision alone wouldn't grant you anything at all, or else the ghouls... No, nothing. Something had to..." He trailed off for a moment, then looked back at me. But said nothing.

It was terribly awkward. I watched him for a number of seconds, consciously keeping my mind focused on why he would be staring at me in such a calm fashion, and I took another drag of my cigarette.

"That would be the case," he nodded once. "This is curious, indeed. Charlie, do keep me informed of this. I'm not aware of Shand having any abilities at all, so this comes as an interesting case to me."

"Okay," I said, clearing my throat. What else could I do? I had no idea how to harness this, let alone its capabilities. So what if I could hide more effectively in the dark? What a skill. Maybe I could hide in bed all night long.

"No, you know this is more than just hiding in the dark; you can hide in lamplight, so long as you stay motionless. I don't know the true extent of your abilities, or if it will continue to develop. It is curious, however. You are no kindred, and you are no ghoul, yet you have retained an ability known only to kindred. A unique case worth pursuing for the time being."

Now I was some science experiment? I inhaled deeply for the sole purpose of exhaling an extraneous amount of smoke. "So I'm unique?"

"Not worth flattery," he dismissed me without even meeting my eyes, still contemplatively searching the surface of his library behind me. "Possibility of losing that ability with the passing of time. However, you feel no draw to Shand, so there is no exchange of wills. A remarkable gift, certainly unintentional, yet obtained nonetheless. Charlie," he met my eyes for a long moment until I became terribly uncomfortable. "Do you sense anything else?"

"I had no idea I could blend into the shadows, you expect me to know if I have some other unknown ability or something?"

He sniffed, shaking his head and looking away again.

"You bit me," I reminded him, but didn't expect him to reply so quickly.

"And how distasteful it was," he looked at me again.

But the glimmer in those amber eyes didn't look right. "You're saying that Shand gave me some of his blood? I don't recall tasting any blood. And the blood when you bit me was mine, wasn't it?"

"The theory is unproven," he looked away before he finished responding.

Distasteful? I was insulted. Not that blood should be tasteful, but for one whose palate consisted of merely hemoglobin and plasma, then was I so bad with my type O? How bad could it be to these so-called kindred? I rolled my eyes, appalled at the direction of my thoughts, and took a drag of my cigarette. The room stunk with second-hand smoke. Yes, I smoked, but I hated the smell of it. Wait, wall. I needed to put up that wall.

"Who taught you of the wall?"

My heart lurched at his interruption of my private thoughts. My eyes fluttered back up to his. "Gabriel, who else."

"What else has he spoken to you about?"

"His own abilities. He was the one who saved me tonight, you know."

"What else have you to tell me?"

What? Okay, change of subject then. Was this guy a loony? No doubt. "So speaking of this Obfuscate business, I did manage to overhear Donna talking to someone on the phone about making plans of some sort. Doesn't sound, eh, kosher, if you know what I mean."

"I'm aware, thank you."

Was he now? "What's that about?"

"I know of it, it doesn't concern you."

"But... fine, whatever."

"Your obfuscate abilities are rudimentary. When opportunity is at hand, fall into the shadows. As you are closer to Gabriel than the others, I suggest experimenting your limits of this with him. Are you able to decipher between kindred and humans?"

Did he have to switch subjects so quickly? But now I had to contemplate his question. "A difference, how?"

"Visually. Subconsciously. Do they look different to you?"

Everyone looks like a freak to me. Well, wait, was he referring to... but that had to be...

"I need to know what you're referring to."

I glowered at him, heart fluttering with hatred for his telepathic eavesdropping. "That Anarch tonight, the one who attacked me, he... he felt ...red to me. I thought I saw it, but I didn't. But that could've been because..." Was I just about to admit that I'd been scared? I'm so disgusted with myself.

He nodded, a small something flickering across his mouth. "Turned on its head. Curious. Anything else?"

"I'd like to know what the fuck you're thinking," I growled, taking a last pull from my cigarette and stubbing it out quickly on the ashtray.

"Are you inclined to read?"

What? "I like reading, yes." Best not to overanalyze his haphazard discourse of questions.

"You may access this library at your leisure."

I narrowed my eyes. There had to be a catch. "What for?"

"You are curious of the contents of my shelves, no?"

"Yeah, but..." Oh, whatever. He wanted to give me access, then so be it. Wall. Put up that wall. I consciously visualized it going up, all the while observing him. He seemed not to notice. Or chose to ignore me. Bastard.

"There are some histories here, some explanation of theorem and observations. It is apparent you will be spending some time here, so it is only fitting that you learn of us."

"You can't fill me in to the relevant details?"

"And jeopardize your mortality? I think not. I was under the impression you enjoyed academia."

Fucker.

He slid his hand across the desk toward me and when he withdrew his hand, a key lay on the table. "I trust your discretion."

I looked up at him. "You trust me so soon?"

"Should I? There is nowhere for you to go. Now you are sufficiently entertained in the daylight."

I took the key, slipping it into my pack of cigarettes. "I'll be too busy trying to come up with stories for this Anita Hyde, thank you very much. What are you doing to her anyway?"

"Shand was one of her puppets. She is Camarilla in name only, and, like your repulsive slave traders, she has manipulated several Anarchs into rounding together the weaker of the Anarchs into doing their bidding. Eliminating Hyde sends the Camarilla a message."

"Who is Boor?"

He raised an eyebrow. "This you overheard from Donna?"

"How did you – yes, she said something about Boor and Craw knowing."

"Boor is our local Anarch leader. He is merely the figurehead of this area."

"Meaning, he hands out all the assignments?"

"In a sense, you could say. Anarchs accept no leader. But we do believe in the highest bidder."

I frowned. Sounded contradictory, but then again, anarchy was self-defeating and nonsensical. How could you eliminate the government form? Who defined order? Especially in a large population? "And where are you on this Anarch social ladder of justice?"

"I've made my status."

"Because you're Tremere?"

"It is where my loyalties lie that represent my influence. I follow my own order."

"Sounds like you have more enemies than friends."

He smirked. That was a first. "My enemies are my friends."

"Ah," I raised a finger, winking before reaching down for a cigarette. "And the plot thickens. Name a few, I won't tell."

"No one you know of that would concern you for the time being. Hyde is no concern of mine. It is your first mission, but you mustn't overthink it. She is vain, arrogant, sensual, and careless with her ghouls. Her Toreador traits accentuate these attractive qualities. Remember those, and you will be successful. I have full faith in my compatriots."

"Easy for you to say," I grumbled.

"I suggest you get your rest. Might I also suggest one of our ghouls retrieve a decent meal for you tomorrow. You look rather pale."

As far as I knew, that wasn't a joke. I took a drag and stood up. "I know when I'm not wanted. I suppose no one could get me a steak at this hour."

"Only if you enjoy diner food."

"It's protein, right?"

"Go."

"Right," I mumbled, leaving the room and closing the door behind me.

Obfuscate, was it? I know Donna was just your average human, but had I really hidden from Jann, or was he only stroking my ego? But how should I feel about having some weird ability? There was no doubt there was something odd about tonight's events. Was this whole vampire thing really some sort of mutated infection phenomena? I felt like a science experiment of his, and I doubted I could feign any symptoms in front of him. Damn him and his annoying mind-reading skill. That was no deception, either.

Walking down the hall toward the foyer to go back up to my room, I suddenly felt horribly small and insignificant. Weak. What kind of planet was this when ...things like them walked around? Had I passed them before in my life before this? Had one read my mind? Had one ever stalked me before? Growing up next to NYC, there was no way I hadn't not ran into one before. Had I even ever been friends with one? Maybe a ghoul, which probably seemed more likely? How common were these creatures? And what else did I not know about? What other creatures of the night prowled while us lowly and untalented humans slept? What other powers were out there? Couldn't someone just tell me? Was there some guidebook, a compendium, a wiki somewhere that would teach me all their tricks? Well where was the human equivalent? So there was my answer. I paused at the bottom of the stairwell and glanced down the hallway toward the room at the far end. There seemed to still be some activity down there, but I wasn't interested. Instead, another thought entered my mind and I turned around and went to the armchair where Donna had stood. I stood in the exact spot she had and looked at the stairwell.

The wall of the stairwell stood out starkly. Small picture frames lined the wall where I'd stood. Perhaps my hair and facial features had blended into one of them? But that still didn't explain the fact that my grey duster would have stood out like a sore thumb against the rest of the beige wall.

There was no denying this. I'd managed to blend into the background from sheer will.

He wanted me to share this with Gabriel, more or less. He didn't mention the ghoul ladies. Would they be jealous, perhaps? Donna was resentful already, Lin was friendly – a little too friendly, which raised a whole bunch of red flags in my book, and Sara, I couldn't put my finger on. I supposed Gabriel was the only one worth discussing this subject with. But yet, where was he? It was nearly 4am according to the old grandfather clock, and I had no way to get in contact with him. I thought of going down that hallway to mingle with the rest, but thought better of it.

I ascended the steps. If I chanced going down there, I might be met with hostile stares and maybe more. I wasn't going to create another schism like I had the night before. A hot bath and introspection until fatigue overtook me would be a more ideal way to spend the night.