Prologue:
Max had never been in love before and as he descended the stairs clutching his Beretta pistol he could only think of her beautiful face. He flowed down the stairs gracefully, a spring to his step. He reached the bottom and paused considering what he had been asked to do. He frowned in thought, 'How could it be wrong to make that Beautiful face smile?'
Max had never believed in love-at-first sight, but he had only met Mikayla tonight and his heart was already hers. He thought of her face again and his heart seemed to skip a beat. If this is what will make her happy, then this is what I'll do! He thought resolutely. Any price was worth paying if it meant he could be with Mikayla.
Max pushed the black door wide and walked into the nightclub. The floor was still packed with people dancing. The bartenders rushing to fill drink orders. Max swept past it all. He knew what he had to do. Even as he weaved through the crowd his thoughts returned to Mikayla. She was so… perfect. So dangerous. And he had the chance to make her smile!
Max walked through the club's front entrance and headed around back behind the nightclub. Max walked towards a large white van that was waiting by the dumpsters. The music was still audible. That's good, he thought. Maybe no one will hear this.
As Max approached the van two large men exited. Hauling with them two figures, hands tied behind their backs and black bags over their heads. One of the figures was male and the other was female. I get to make her happy! Max was so elated he practically skipped to them.
"Here they are," one of the large men said. He ripped the bags off of his captives' heads. One of the captives was Max's best friend. The other figure was his friend's sister. The girl they had both been looking for. So, they do have her. That's good.
His friend looked up at him in pure shock. "Hey Chris! Long time no see." Max said cheerfully.
Chris spluttered in confusion. "W… what…, what are you doing here Max!" he finally choked out. Looking over, Chris saw his sister kneeling beside him. She was gagged and when their eyes met, she started sobbing. "It's okay Cindy," Chris said, almost crying himself. "It's alright, I'm here for you. I told you I'd come." This only made her sob harder. "MAX, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!"" He screamed. "You were supposed to talk to the owner and get my sister back!"
Max heard a melodious feminine laugh from behind him and looked around. Mikayla, the woman he loved. She walked toward him and stood at his back wrapping her arms around him. Her hands rubbed his hips, slowly grazing lower. Max gave a shudder and shot her a big smile.
"You sent him against me?" She pouted to Chris.
Max tried to protest. "No! I would never…," but she silenced him with her mouth. Mikayla let the kiss linger. Then; still stroking his shoulder she turned to face Chris.
"He's mine now, I'm afraid." She said, smiling wickedly. "Max," she whispered. Her breath tickling his ear. "They don't want us together. If we don't do something, they'll drive us apart. Shoot them. Starting with her." Mikayla pointed toward Cindy.
Before Max knew what he was doing, he lifted the gun and pointed it at Cindy's head. She began sobbing even harder her entire body convulsing as if she were having a seizure. Her large brown eyes rolled wildly at the prospect of death. They seemed to see nothing, yet everything, all at once. One of the large men held her down.
"NO! You BITCH!" Chris yelled kicking frantically at Mikayla. The other large man held him down and tied a gag over his mouth. Chris continued to yell, but it was muffled the words unintelligible.
"Now, my sweet boy," Mikayla murmured. "do as your told."
"But…, Chris is my friend. That's his sister." Max looked over at Chris. Chris looked back, his eyes pleading. Max didn't want to disappoint Mikayla. In fact, he couldn't think of anything worse, but…
"They don't want us to be together, love." She murmured. "You do want me don't you?" She whispered into his ear. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Max could smell her sweet scent wrapping itself around him.
"M…m-ore th…than anything!" He stuttered, caught up in her embrace.
"Then do it," she said, nuzzling his shoulder with her nose. "so we can be happy." Max pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang as the Beretta fired. Max heard Chris's muffled screams of agony. Mikayla began to laugh uncontrollably. She let go of his shoulder and moved to Chris. She towered over him as he sobbed. Bending down she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked back, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"No friend ever served me, and no enemy ever wronged me, whom I have not repaid in full." She let his head drop to the ground. Chris squirmed toward her, his face a mask of hatred. Mikayla lifted one foot and planted her heel on his back, pinning him to the ground. Wow, she's so powerful, he thought in awe.
He had felt terrible regret, consuming guilt when he pulled the trigger, but it had quickly been replaced with thoughts of her.
Chris let out a muffled scream of frustration. "Take this one," Mikayla said, digging her heel deeper into his back. "Take him out to the boonies and dispose of him. And her," she said, pointing to Cindy's dead body. Max averted his eyes not wanting to look at it. The big men did as she asked. They loaded the van, hauling a flailing Chris with them, and drove off. Mikayla turned toward him.
She grinned wide, sharp white teeth flashing in the moonlight. It was a predatory grin, a grin of sadistic pleasure. Max didn't notice, he was too fixated on her beauty. I did it, I made her smile! he thought joyously. Mikayla opened her arms and held them out.
"Ohh what a good boy!" She purred, biting her bottom lip slightly. She strode toward him in her black heels, arms still opened wide to embrace him. "Now come here, my beautiful young warrior. Let me give you your reward." Heart clamoring, palms sweaty, Max met her halfway. She wrapped her arms around his neck, reaching up on her toes she leaned into him.
Foreheads touching, she looked deeply into his eyes. Max wrapped his hands around the small of her back. His legs and arms were trembling. It got so bad that he felt like his entire body was vibrating. He could hardly breath. All he heard was his heart beating like a drum in his ears.
She must have sensed his trembling, for she leaned to whisper in his ear, "Hush darling, I haven't even done anything yet." She kissed him deeply then. He had never felt such passion before. His world was consumed by her. She leaned back and Max breathed heavily, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. Her mouth was a mere inch from his face. She gazed deeply into his eyes. He was lost in them.
"Beware the rose," she whispered. Her breath was warm. Everything about her was warm and soft. "Beware the rose, Max, for it has sharp thorns." Max tried to understand these words, but, before he could, she kissed him again, and his only thoughts were of her. She kissed his cheek and down his neck where she started to nibble. He sighed in pleasure closing his eyes.
Part 1: City of Blood
Chapter 1: New Beginnings
The world was dark, a pitch-black shroud that Max assumed would never end. Max knew he was alive, or, at least, he thought he was. His grogginess had evaporated, but darkness still covered his vision. The first thing he had been aware of was the ringing in his head. A slow and constant thrum! Alongside it, a slapping noise, like water being poured on mud.
Well, I can't be dead. Max thought. Death would be painless, right? Slowly, he reached out his hands. They didn't go far before he felt a hard and grainy surface. Kicking out his feet, Max found the same obstacle. I feel like an animal caught in a trap!
He tried pushing upward, but it was like pushing a wall. Max pushed harder and his muscles burned from the strain. Nothing happened. After a few more futile attempts, he began ramming it with his shoulder, trying to break free. All it earned him was an intense throbbing.
Breath, stay calm. Fear is the mind killer! Max wasn't sure if it was his own thought or the words of a wiser man. Max wasn't sure of anything anymore. Trying to remember even the smallest details made the thrumming! in his head worse. Max grunted in pain. As if on cue, the thrumming! deepened to an almost unbearable level.
The details that had led to his current circumstances were hazy. He could hardly move an inch, only see darkness, and only hear his own breathing. And GOD! The pain in his head hit a crescendo. It was as if someone had cracked his skull open and poured his brain onto a saucepan like frying an egg. Breath! Breath! Since he couldn't remember even the smallest details, it was n surprise that Max didn't know where he was, or how to escape.
That was a lie though, wasn't it? Max knew one thing. If he closed his eyes, he could see her face. A face more beautiful than any mortal. A terrifying smile, a delighted grin wider than the Cheshire cat from his favorite children's story. Teeth a gleaming white beacon of cruelty with sharp and unnaturally long canines protruding from her grin. The details flooded his mind, but he couldn't recall the Bitch's name.
I remember that I did something bad. Something horrible. Something… unforgivable? The memory seemed to be within his grasp, but like mist over the water, before he could seize it, it slipped away. Max felt his chest constrict and he closed his eyes tightly. No. No. NO. The shame and guilt mixed with the constant Thrum! Thrum! THRUM! in his head was enough to rival the worst of hangovers.
The THRUM! grew deeper and louder until Max thought he would be driven insane. "I'm in Hell." Max whispered feebly, but even his whimpering only enhanced his pain. His breath quickened, coming in short gasps. He placed a hand on his chest to help slow his heartbeat… and felt nothing. Even in his panicked mind, Max knew his heart should be racing faster than the turbocharged engine of his 69 Mustang. Max tried again to feel his heartbeat. Then he put a hand to his throat to feel his pulse.
Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING!
The irrefutable fact pushed him further to hysteria. "I'm in hell. I'm in hell." It started out as a low sob and peaked into a shrill scream. "I'm in Hell! I'm in Hell! I DID SOMETHING BAD AND NOW I'M IN HELL!" That's when the thrumming ended. With a loud thunk!
"You ain't in hell youngin! Least, not the way you mean. Now quit that hollerin…" thunk! thunk! "…so I can get ya out." The wispy voice of the strange man from far away was followed by three more thunks! And a couple of thrums!.
Then, as if God had said "Let there be light!", Max's world of darkness ended with a brilliant light shining above him. Standing over Max's prison was a man in silhouette, Max's personal savior from hell. The flashlight in his Saviour's hand blinded Max. Max surged forward, toward the flashlight, his muscles stiff and straining from lack of use. Before he was able to step out of his prison, strong hands caught and held him. "See, ain't no hell Thinny. Just a wooden box that got mighty hot."
With a grunt, the man pulled Max out of his would-be grave. The cool night air gently kissed his skin. Max saw the stranger for the first time. A man in his late 40s or early 50s, he had patches of grey hair on either side of a balding head. He wore circular glasses that gleamed in the moonlight. His face was not attractive. The dirt on it didn't cover the grey and white stubble of a poorly kept beard.
"I knew you'd be here!" the man said with the excited tone of a kid opening a Christmas present early. "I had a vision you see, and the visions never lie! 'Cept when they do of course." The man let out a shrill giggle. Max had a difficult time processing the man's words. He was becoming used to not understanding anything anymore.
Dazed, Max looked down at his grimy and dirt covered outfit. "My clothes." Max wrinkled his nose. "They're so… filthy."
"Ahh! But introoohhhhductions are in order, ain't they Thinny? I am Chuck, a Malkavian of the line of Cain. Yes, we Malkavians see more than all the others of our kind. That's why I'm here with ya on such a fine night." "Thinny? Malkavian?" This man was making less sense every time he spoke. The man saw his confusion and smiled. Max waited for more explanations, but the man just kept smiling.
"H… hello, my name is Max. What's go…"
"Your name is Thinny to me and is likely to remain so." The man interrupted, chuckling. Turning away from Max, he said, "I never bother to learn the names of thinnys. Most of ya don't last a year no how. Ya hungry?" Chuck gestured behind him and Max noticed another, slightly older man. White clumpy hair and a round lump of a belly, the man wore a vacant expression. A dribble of spit trickled from the corner of his mouth. The first thing Max was aware of was the man's heartbeat. A steady thrumming that made Max's mouth water. "Eat, you'll feel better. Then we can talk." Chuck said.
Max felt his legs moving towards the old man even though he hadn't consciously commanded them too.
Max felt a hollow void deep within the center of his body. Before he could stop and think about what he was doing, he was standing next to the old man.
"That's it thinny, let ya instincts take over." Max let his body guide itself. Max bent over the old man, reaching his mouth down to the man's neck. His expression remained vacant. Slowly, instinctually, Max started to suck on the Man's neck. Max sucked deeper, but nothing seemed to happen.
Chuck strode to where Max was standing. "Open that mouth of yours and say ahhh." Chuck demanded. He found it very difficult to pull his mouth away from the man's neck but did so. Max's saliva ran down the man's neck, the man's expression was as vacant as ever. Max opened his mouth and let Chuck inspect it. "Ahaa! Ya missing some vital equipment Thinny. Whoever heard of kindred without fangs? Not me!"
"Not to worry!" Chuck said. "I can help ya with that." With a big grin, Chuck raised his hand to the man's throat. In the pale light of the moon, Max saw the old yellowed fingernails of Chuck's hand morph into razor-sharp black claws. Max's first thought was, "Demon." Chuck ran the sharp claw across the man's neck.
Blood spurted from the wound. Chuck jumped gracefully back, avoiding the cascade of hot blood. The man never even flinched. The world around Max started to lose focus. Everything within his vision became a blurry mess. The open grave, the surrounding trees, the man, Chuck, Max was not aware of anything except for the delicious sanguine fluid bubbling from the wound and running down the man's neck.
Before he knew what he was doing Max was on top of the man, lapping up the warm fluid like a person dying of thirst. The man never made a sound. He simply stood there, allowing Max to feed. When the world became more focused again the first thing, Max was aware of was that the man was lying beneath him. The man's eyes had taken on the equally vacant, but entirely more morbid expression of death.
Max felt better, as if he had gotten rid of a particularly nasty hangover. It hardly even registered that he had just killed a man. Max heard a shrill giggle and looked to see Chuck staring at him, eyes bright with humor. The corners of Chuck's mouth twisted up into a snarling grin as he strode toward Max.
"Never gets old. Here, clean yourself up." He offered Max a black handkerchief that would graciously mask the color of the blood. "The first time is always the messiest. I would know!" Max stumbled towards Chuck and took the handkerchief from him, barely able to register his words.
"I suppose I should thank you?" Max said, wiping the blood from his mouth. He looked down despondently at the handkerchief and couldn't see even a drop of blood. Almost like it never happened.
"You shouldn't actually." Chuck said. "In fact, Thinny, you're gonna be dead in a few months, most probably. Your types never last long."
"My type?" Max asked curiously. Chuck smiled again.
"Yes, your type, thinbloods. Y'all thinny's are the weakest in the blood. The furthest removed from Cain, the first Kindred. Most of my kind looks down on you thinbloods, and if the Camarilla catches you…" Chuck giggled. "Well, let's just say the afterlife isn't always painless." Chuck licked his lips, smiling at Max. "What do you think about that, Thinny?"
Max stumbled backwards, away from the body. He noticed that his hands were shaking violently. Breathing deeply, Max began to rub his neck to pacify his growing fear. "This can't be happening." Max thought. "Think! Think back "I…I…I don't know who I am, or what I am." Max said. Again, Max closed his eyes, trying to remember the events that had led him to his pitch-black prison.
He vaguely recalled crowds of people running away, trampling anything or anyone who got in their way. He heard the screaming, people shouting for him to stop. Most of the voices he didn't recognize, but some he did. Max tried to concentrate on those familiar voices, tried to identify them. Instead, all he saw was that fucking woman's face again. His hands began to tremble in anger as he let out an involuntary snarl.
"Thinny…? Hey, Thinny." Max blinked open his eyes to find Chuck waving a hand in his face. He wore confused, but slightly amused expression. Max got the impression that not much confused Chuck.
"Finally awake, are ya? Good, we should leave soon. This isn't territory I'm familiar with, and I'd rather not find out who owns this part of New Orleans. Kindred in this city have been very territorial ever since the recent killings. So…" Chuck gestured with an arm toward a muddy gravel road, and a dingy white, windowless, van. "After you, Thinny."
Max walked past Chuck slowly. Max wasn't entirely sure he trusted the old geezer, but Chuck had dug him out from that insufferable box and Max didn't have much of an alternative. Looking back at his would-be grave, he shuddered.
The grave had been dug below a gnarled sawtooth oak. The soggy swamp ground and the man-made gravel road were the only solid pieces of ground within miles. Swamps lay all around. As Max walked towards the Van, the ground made squelching noises with each step. "Why was I in that coffin, Chuck? When I try to remember how I got there, my head aches, and all I can see is the face of a woman."
"Well Thinny, when a human is turned into Kindred, they suffer a sort of amnesia. What they do remember from their previous life has a strong emotional charge to it. Even now, I can remember my wife. Not many details, but the love has kept the memory alive." Chuck explained.
Max began to vigorously shake his head no. "That's impossible, everytime I see her fucking face, I feel as if I've swallowed acid. My entire body burns!" Max noticed he had stopped walking. His hands were balled into fists. Chuck looked over at him, favoring Max with a toothy grin. Max was beginning to hate those grins. They seemed to say, I know your secrets better than you, but I won't tell!
"I never said the emotional charge had to be love, Thinny." Chuck said, turning back towards the van. "Most of us Kindred hate our Sires. Most of us never forget that they made us into monsters." Chuck pulled the door of the van open and slid into the Driver's seat. "Now let me take ya somewhere we can talk safely, dawn's a'comin." Max slid into the passenger side. He was still unsure of this new world. This world of darkness.