A Pacific breeze blew across the dark beach below the Santa Monica Pier. Lydia stepped out of the brick tunnel and assessed her surroundings. A fire roared a little ways away, surrounded by a motley group of young people. To her left was a set of stairs leading up to the Santa Monica Pier, closed tight due to a murder investigation. She could dimly make out the sounds of an arcade somewhere, while waves hissed softly as they met their death on sandy shores.

God, I'm starting to sound like Alice, she thought.

Keeping low and to the shadows, the fledgling skirted the edge of the group using her superior night vision to avoid brittle charred wood and glass. It was weird though, like something was missing. She supposed that it was probably the fact that not three nights ago she would have joined those people, made a new group of friends, and have a good time. Now, the former party queen was forced to slink past them, like some freak. A sharp pang of self loathing went through her gut. Just as she passed by the firelight, she heard footsteps running in her direction. Shit.

Lydia whipped around in time to see a young woman skid to a stop in front her. She pointed past her, towards the cliff at the end of the beach. "Up there," she said. "Through that chain link gate and up those stairs." A very confused Nosferatu fledgling stared at the woman. She had short raven black hair and wore a gold jacket over a black t-shirt and a pair of pants. Her Spanish accent was also very thick, making it hard to understand her. But the most interesting thing about her were the small fangs. They weren't as long as normal vampire teeth, but they looked sharp and strong and real. A thousand questions raced through Lydia's mind that moment, but she was already late for a well overdue appointment. "Uh...Thanks..." she replied. Slowly she turned around and scampered on her way.
_

My lesson on guns with the Prince was not, shall we say, perfect. Oh, he was all nice and encouraging, but the fact that by end of the hour I had only hit four targets out the twenty I was presented with was obviously a major disappointment for him. And it only made me feel worse to watch him smoothly go through the motions of loading, aiming, and firing. LaCroix easily hit five targets scattered around the range with five bullets, as if he did it every day of his unlife. My only saving grace was that I very good at loading and unloading the gun as well as stripping it and putting it back together. The gun was a Desert Eagle .50 like his own. As we headed to the elevator, he told me to keep the gun so I could get used its feel, but he made sure I had no rounds on me. Obviously he didn't want me practicing in his multi-million dollar penthouse. The weight of the gun felt odd at my side, and I hoped I would never have to use it for real.

On the way back up to the penthouse, I was reminded of a thought. "Mr. LaCroix, I wanted to ask you something..." The vampire turned to me, raising a fair eyebrow in question. "Which is?" "Um, well, I'm really into photography, and, ah, I'd like to get a camera. I haven't taken any photos in a while, and I was wondering if it was alright with you that I went and bought one sometime." It was true; last night it had suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't touched a camera in almost two weeks, and I found myself itching almost painfully to hear the click of a shutter. "I promise I won't shoot anything... important. I won't even shoot inside the penthouse, if you don't want-"

LaCroix held up a hand, stemming the flow of my sputterings. "I can see that you are sincere, and I trust that you are more than responsible and intelligent enough to know the difference between what is and is not important." He seemed to deliberate on this for a moment, but somehow I knew he was pulling my leg. He had already made his decision.

"If you do not mind showing me your photographs every once in a while, I don't see the problem. But you're going to have to wait for while before getting your camera, unfortunately. Right now I fear that you are not yet ready to be on your own outside of Venture Tower. As you saw the other night, I do have enemies, and the last thing I want is to send you out into danger until I can be completely sure that you can take care of yourself." I nodded in acknowledgment, while inside I was bubbling with excitement. I was already dreaming of the sort of camera I would buy. It would definitely have to be a DSLR, maybe a Canon, or a Lumix... should I get an extra battery so I can increase the shutter speed? I definitely needed to get myself a telescopic lense so I could get some nice shots of the city scape from my bedroom. And on top of that I'll need a tripod...

"I should think that the funds available on your credit card should be more than enough to pay for it. How much are camera's these days? Five-hundred dollars? Six-hundred?" I winced. "Actually, if I want to get a really good one it'll be at least... fifteen-hundred." I waited for the explosion. "Fifteen-hundred? Well that's not so bad. Your credit card is pre-paid up to twenty thousand dollars, so unless you managed spend all of it when you were out at the shops with your friends you should be able to get what you need." The world fuzzed out for a second. Twenty. Thousand. Dollars...

Oh my God...

I swayed a bit on my feet. LaCroix looked sharply at me. "Are you all right?" "I-I'm OK, I'm just trying to deal with the fact that I had, had so much..." "Really? How much did you think you had?" "I don't know, just definitely not that much." The billionaire smirked, apparently amused by my reaction. "What did you buy, thinking you'd run out soon? Clothes? Books? Shoes?" "I, uh, bought a pair of earrings." LaCroix stared at me incredulously. "And how much did these earrings cost?" I looked down, embarrassed. "Five... dollars..." I replied meekly.

The look the Prince gave me left me hard pressed not to burst out laughing.
_

Shadow fell across Lydia as she crouched behind a van parked in front of the foul smelling beach house. How those junkies managed to get the vehicle up there, she didn't know. The cabin was a wooden affair, painted a dark green with the front yard boundary marked by a peeling white picket fence. Beach towels hung from the front porch railing, rustling softly in the wind.

The young Nosferatu had been watching the place for the last half hour, and all that seemed to be happening right now was one guy playing a video game while a couple others were apparently arguing over the rules of poker. Such was the power of Lydia's new senses: she gathered all of her intel simply by directing her hearing over to the house, while sneaking a peak around the side of the van every few minutes. She had to strike soon, though, before someone came along for their Saturday night fix. Just listening to their banter was enough to bring back memories, both bad and pleasant alike. This wasn't her first time seeing a bunch of drug dealers shooting the breeze before the next customer showed up, and from her experience it was more than likely that they had been smoking up or snorting powder since the Sun had gone down. With any luck, these guys would be as high as kites, and judging by the stink of narcotics, wouldn't be returning to earth for quite a while.

Making a decision, Lydia darted over to the rotting white picket fence. She considered the plausibility of jumping over it undetected, but decided against it and instead searched for a loose board. It wasn't very hard to find. In fact, what she did find was a picket leaning against the fence, without any sort of nail or something to keep it in place. It was a poor error of judgment on their part to leave such a gaping hole in their defenses, even if there were about six armed guys in the house. Lydia removed the filthy picket and placed it quietly on the sand, slipping through the gap easily. It sort of reminded her of that one time she played a prank on a couple of her lesser girlfriends, waiting until they came out for a smoke before she ambushed them wearing a dark mask and a hood. Except this wasn't a prank. This was deadly serious.

Now that she had breached their first defense came the real challenge: how to get in. It was probably best to try to find a back door. That would be the last place they would expect an intruder due to local geography. As she entered the backyard, she noticed a curious thing. A generator. A cat-like smile curved her ruined lips as Lydia was suddenly struck with an idea. She snuck over to the softly humming machine and deftly pried open the switch box. The six black breakers and the red switch were easily seen in the deep shadows where normally Lydia would need a flashlight. With a cold smile, she clicked the power switch to "off".

The lights went out.

"Hey, what happened to the lights?" "Derrick, go turn the lights back on!" "Fuck you, you go turn the lights back on." "Get out there and turn on the fucking generator before I shove that controller up your ass!"

Lydia grinned wickedly and sank back into the deep shadows near the fence. Typical junkies. A few seconds later the screen door slammed, and a very pissed off gangsta, complete with dark hoodie and baggy pants, walked around the back. "Fuckin' assholes. Why the FUCK do I have to everything myself? I'm not their goddamn bitch..." His angry grumbles made Lydia want to snort out loud. But now she had to strike, and suddenly all the merriment faded from her. This wasn't like pulling a prank or getting into a cat-fight, nor was it like when she took out that Sabbat runt last night. She had to go and kill him now, before he turned the lights back on. Well, at least she was ridding the world of one carefree asshole who profited from other people's suffering. The cold-footed fledgling padded silently behind him, reached for his neck...

A cell phone beeped, startling them both. The guy reached into his pocket, pulling out a beaten up LG phone. Lydia stared over his shoulder as he opened up a text message.

hey hunni! So excited 4 our date nxt week!
u were so sweet last time, like a real gentleman.
I'll c u nxt Sat.!

The fledgling froze, her chest seeming to seize up with emotion. Oh God, this guy wasn't just some drug dealer! He was a person, with people who loved and cared for him, and, judging by his smile, loved and cared for back. Jesus Christ, how did she even think this would be easy, even think of this guy as if he was an object? Fuck, she used to hang out with these sorts of people, date them. She should have known better...

Lydia sighed internally. If she was gonna kill him, if she was going to kill anyone, she would have to do so with the full knowledge that whoever she killed was a person to someone. No more trying to lump them all into one insignificant category; everyone is important.

Alice would have been proud of her for figuring that out.

But as she was philosophizing, the guy, having read the message, put away his phone. He stopped, seeming to notice something. Slowly, he turned around... and came face to face with the revolting image of Lydia Harrows.

The guy screamed bloody murder as he reached for the gun at his side. Shit, she thought. Rushing forward, she smacked the revolver he held hard enough to send it spinning into the night. With her other arm she struck at his chest, raking her sharp claws through layers of cotton and skin. The boy yowled, grabbing her arm in a attempt to free himself, but to his misfortune he forgot about her other hand, which whipped around to tear a jagged line across his jugular. Blood fountained grotesquely out of his throat. Within seconds, his cries turned to a sort of gurgling, which quickly subsided into silence.

But not for long. Already she could hear running footsteps coming around the side of the house. Quickly, she darted back into the deeper shadows. The next guy who came didn't have a shirt on, and in spite of herself Lydia couldn't help but appreciate the muscular curves of his abs and shoulders. "Derrick?" he called. "What the fuck is going on, Brian?" "I dunno... Derrick, Derrick, man, can you hear me? Where are you?" The new guy, Brian, stumbled on something. Derrick's body. "The fuck...?" he bent down, felt around... and realized what it was. "Oh my God! Holy shit! Guys, get out here! Guys? There's something out here! It got Derrick!" "Yo, what the hell are you talkin' about now?" The new speaker was a black guy, dressed in a white lab coat and gold chains who leaned out of a back window. He honestly looked like some stereotypical pimp. Judging by the better quality of his apparel, Lydia guessed that he must the leader.

"Something killed Derrick, man! Fuck, come out here and help me! Bring some flashlights or somethin'! Hurry up, that thing might come back!" "Okay, just hold on..." The guy disappeared back inside, and Lydia prepared herself for a fight.
_

I was told to wait outside LaCroix's office while he went to get something, apparently yet another gift for me. As I waited, the door to the antechamber opened, admitting a tallish pale man in a brown trench coat and a surprisingly old style of shirt and pants. Long Black hair fell about his shoulders, and in spite of the time being almost ten thirty at night, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. A brown leather bag hung from his side, its broad strap circling the opposite shoulder. Everything about him suggested savage strength and speed. My ghoul senses tingled: another vampire.

"Good evening, young one." he said politely, his voice a low sarcastic drawl. "Do you know if Prince LaCroix is about?" "Ah, yes, he's just in his office. I'm waiting for him to come out myself." "Well, we'd best not disturb the Prince's quiet time until he's ready to receive us." He studied me carefully. For an instant, his glasses slipped, revealing...

I started at what I saw. The man's eyes were two glowing orange orbs, their black centers in sharp contrast with their setting. They weren't human at all. I then realized how rude I must have looked, and once again found myself sputtering apologies to the undead. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be so rude." "It's quite alright, young one. You're obviously new, and probably haven't seen another undead soul save your master, am I right? And besides, it's nothing unusual. Their great conversation starters, I think." In spite of myself, I giggled. I liked this man. His sarcasm was surprisingly refreshing after a week and a bit of mostly strait laced verbal communication.

"Beckett." he said, introducing himself. He offered a hand to shake, which I took after a moment. It was cool, like every other vampire I had met. He didn't say whether it was his first name or last, and I didn't bother asking. "Beckett," I repeated. "It suits you. There's teeth in that name." For once I wasn't embarrassed by my poetic dialogue. And neither, it seemed, was Beckett, who chuckled a bit at my statement. "It is interesting that you should say that. Gangrel is indeed the Clan of Beasts, and now it appears once again that it lives up to its name." He arched a dark eyebrow. "And what are you called, young one?" "Alice. Alice Kepler."

The office door opened then, and LaCroix stepped out. A shiny black leather holster was held in one hand, which he presented to me, but not before I could register the surprise on his face when he saw who I was standing with. "Beckett! What a surprise. Let me finish with my ghoul, and I'll be right with you." He turned to me. "Now, I want for you to spend a few hours tonight and read over those documents I sent you. And also, take a look at these," he said, producing a small bundle of University brochures that had apparently been hiding somewhere on his person. "The winter term starts in January, so you do have some time to mull over where you want to go and what you want to take. We'll discuss your choices later. Now off you go." Obviously knowing it wasn't a good time for questions, I nodded and went immediately in the direction of my room.
_

As the girl walked off down the hall, Sebastian pushed away the urge to grimace in annoyance. He hadn't meant to have that scene in front a stranger, especially one like Beckett, but there was no reason that the Old Soul shouldn't receive a proper education, and he needed to enroll her soon. He could almost taste the near palpable curiosity of the other Elder as they stepped inside his office.

The double doors of Sebastian's office closed, sealing him in with the vampire scholar. As soon as the bolt clicked, Beckett smirked in its direction.

"Now how did you find one? I hear they're supposed to be extremely rare."

So much for a rehearsed explanation.

"They are, but that's not important right now. What I need to know is if you're planning on saying anything."
"Of course you do. But I'm afraid you'll need to clarify what exactly I am not saying."

The Ventrue's reply was curt. "You are to tell her nothing about what she is. And you are not to tell her anything about Bloodbond. Lastly, you will not tell anyone about the Old Soul."

"How intriguing. Might I presume that you are using her ignorance of the Bond in order to keep her from actively fighting said Bond?"
"Indeed, which is why you must not say a word about it to her lest you jeopardize everything. Now do I have your word or not?"

Instead of answering, the Gangrel continued on.

"Though I am more interested in learning how you managed to get her to drink your blood in the first place."
"If you must know, she was shot in an alley and was nearly delirious from blood loss."
"Ah. So she's the one I read about in the paper the other day."

Now Sebastian's patience grew dangerously short.

"Mr. Beckett, I have very little time and still have much to do before dawn. Now you will either agree to keep Ms. Alice and what she is a secret and say nothing about the Bloodbond, or I will be forced to have my Sheriff sharpen the pikes for your head. What will it be?"
"Don't worry, Prince, I have no intent on spoiling your little charade. Like her, all I wish to do is observe."
"Good."
"But I must say, what an interesting specimen you have found. She's obviously very old, and yet she hasn't Awakened yet. How... peculiar."
"Yes... Now, I assume that your research has brought you here to Los Angeles and you are simply here to announce your presence. This is correct, yes?"
"Indeed it has."
"Well then, I appreciate your courteous gesture by seeing me, and I wish you good luck in your studies. As long as you uphold the Masquerade and keep to Camarilla Law, as well as keep your mouth shut about the Old Soul, you have permission to operate within my city."

Ice blue eyes stared coolly at the old scholar as dark lips twitched into a humorless smile.

"Welcome to Los Angeles."
_

Lydia scuttled into the deep shadow by the fence, and watched with growing dismay as the gang filed out into the backyard. There were only five of them, but a few of the guys had tire irons and crowbars while the rest had guns. She may be fast, but she doubted she could dodge bullets. Considering her options, the Fledgling listened in on the junkies from where she hid behind the worn concrete slabs in one corner. "Man, what the fuck? It's like some animal came to get a piece of Derrick. Where are those goddamn flashlights, man? I don't like keeping my back to the dark right now..."

Lydia knew that she had to act fast. Any second now they would turn on the flashlights and would quickly find her, giving them a clear view of the Nosferatu and consequently, fatally, disorienting her due to her somewhat light sensitive eyes. But how to attack?

Or did she? Now that all the thugs were out of the house, she could just slip in there and grab what she needed. She could be in and out before they gave up the search. Making a fast decision, Lydia formed Obfuscate around herself and jogged towards the still open screen door on the side of the house. In spite of her invisibility, she kept low and to the shadows to avoid any chance of undue attention. Once she was inside, she let her discipline go and began her search. Her first task was to find where they cooked their stuff. The astrolite was most likely going to be in there with the other drugs, but kept apart to mark it as special. As she snooped around, she noticed a loose vent between two bunk beds. Just her luck: a stash spot. Quickly she lifted the vent upwards and peered into the unnaturally large cavity behind it, confirming her suspicions. To her disappointment, it was empty. Well, mostly empty. A single stuffed envelope rested on the ground near one corner. When Lydia peered inside it, a wonderful surprise greeted her: $250 in cash, a welcome little bundle. Stuffing the wad onto her pocket, she ducked out of the space and continued her search.

But already she was running out of time, judging by the distant frustrated shouts. It wouldn't be much longer before they gave up the hunt and came back. Suddenly, for no reason at all, an old cereal jingle came to mind: 'Follow your nose, wherever it goes!' Lydia blinked and tried not to giggle out loud. How could she be thinking of food at a time like this? Her mini revelation, however, was useful: the source of the stink that permeated the house was most likely going to be where the lab was. Lydia took a few short, almost delicate sniffs of air. The combined stench of chemicals coupled with rotting wood and mold was overwhelming almost to the point of nausea. If the fledgling concentrated, however, she found she could discern a more potent smell towards the front of the house. Opening a particularly rotted out door, a wave of translucent, slightly multicolored smoke billowed out causing her to clutch the door and retch for a moment. Evidently she had found the lab. Swinging the door wide open, the Nosferatu took a deep breath of comparably fresher air before she went inside, and then remembered at the last second that she didn't actually need to breathe.

Another weird thing about being a vampire: there were times when she remembered stuff like this, and then times where she acted and thought as if she was still human. It was often disorienting in its own right. At times like these though, she was glad she remembered. Halting her breathing for a moment, she went inside and found the astrolite almost immediately. It sat there, plain as day, two white jugs with liquid inside along with a wire fuse and a timer. Grabbing it off the rickety table, she turned to leave. And almost ran into one the thugs.

It was the shirtless one, Brian. "WHAT THE FUCK?" he screamed. Instantly, Lydia was in motion. Stronger, stronger, stronger, she thought, like a prayer, as she swiped at the guy with her right hand. Her blow connected solidly with his shoulder, broken bone crunching underneath the skin as the guy was sent flying to the left. He crashed into second door and the black man trying to go through it, sending them both sprawling to the cold rough carpet. Swinging around with her momentum, Lydia turned just in time to block another man's overhand swing of a tire iron. Lydia wrestled with him briefly, trying to pry the piece of metal out of his hand. As their struggle spilled out into the hall, she felt a sharp sting her side. A quick glance showed her a knife protruding from her waist, still in the white knuckle grip of one of the junkies. In the corner of her eye, she noticed something silver, and turned to watch the muzzle of a pistol flash along with hearing its accompanying bang, and for the second time that night Lydia realized she had been shot.

Damn, this was getting bad fast. Stupid, stupid, for letting them sneak up on her like that! With a final twist and a jerk, she yanked the tire iron away from her opponent, whipping the metal around to slam it into the arm of the boy who stabbed her. A crowbar entered her peripheral vision, seeming to move in slow motion. Lydia tried to duck away, but made the mistake of moving in the wrong direction and exposing her back to full force of the blow. It connected with a low "thunk!" and a metallic ring, the powerful blow caused the already bent Lydia to fall to her hands and knees. A second hit flattened her to the ground, her vision going fuzzy and black. "Why won't this thing fucking die already?" Her attacker's voice was muffled. He raised the bar for another smack.

CRASH!

One of the decanters in the lab broke as one of the wounded junkies stumbled into its table. Everyone turned to look, and it was their fatal mistake. With a snarl, Lydia tripped the one with the crowbar and snatched his weapon out of his hands. Swinging the bar as hard as she could with renewed strength, Lydia laid about with her club left, right, and center. Everything became a blur of screams and breaking bone and the metal connected with skulls, ribs, and arms as the Nosferatu desperately fought for her life. Finally, she found herself repeatedly, almost hysterically smacking the crowbar into the head of one of the guys, sending small geysers blood everywhere from the now pulverized cranium. Eventually, after what seemed like an age, she made herself stop and look around.

The place had become the location of a bloodbath. Splatters of body fluids speckled the walls like some sick contemporary masterpiece. Blood was pooled and congealed everywhere, from the carpet to the ceiling. There were even a few limbs that looked like they were ripped off, though for the life of her Lydia couldn't remember when or how that had happened. Mutely she stared at the crowbar that she still clutched in her hand, before she let it drop to the ground with a sharp clang. Quietly, she leaned down and grasped the astrolite with her one hand. It would be dawn soon, and she felt exhausted from her ordeal. She would have to go back to Mercurio another night.

With heavy steps, Lydia left behind the dark and silent house and went into the night.
_

Morgan145: whew! Another chapter complete! Sorry this one took so long, I've been ridiculously busy over the holidays and the start of the term. Next chapter will probably be pretty short, really just an interlude into... (da dada dah!) the Ocean House Chapter! And have no fear, thin bloods will come into the picture very soon, as will a very important Tremere! (sorry if I spoiled anything, just want to reaffirm to kind fans that I'm probably going to stop procrastinating with that meeting very soon.). I know I kind of messed up with the time frames here, considering that a one hour gunmanship lesson turned into three hours. Will go back and fix that sometime soon, but not for a bit. Mr. Harrington will probably be making an appearance again in both of the next couple of chapters. Lastly, I'm going to try for longer time lapses between events. I mean, two to three chapters dedicated to chronicling each night does an amazing job of slowing everything down to a bore, unless of course its necessary of course.

Thank you once again to SpecialAgentOrange, your insight has been very helpful. And TheresaVamp, your compliment is totally welcome as well!

Thank you very much everyone for reading, and please feel free to review!