Chapter 9: New Life

The street was crowded, filled to the brim like an overflowing pot of boiling water. People shoved and pushed past one another. Max continued walking with the throng of people. Where am I, what is this? He felt a distant need to find something, or someone.

I lost my friend, where is he? Max knew he had been taken by someone. Someone whom he knew of only vaguely. He stumbled through a large group of guys, one of them giving him a hard shove as he passed. He tripped into the street. Bright lights flashed from every building. It's Mardi Gras, we were here during Mardi Gras.

We? His friend Chris and him, they had been searching for someone. They had found her, but…. He saw Chris standing in the middle of the street, staring back at him. Max raised his hand, trying to call out to his friend, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Chris gave him a hostile glare.

"They took her Max, we couldn't save her." Max shook his head, tried to explain, but he had no voice. "What's worse, you killed her Max. You murdered her. I thought you were my friend."

"MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER!" Max shook his head vehemently, but Chris just continued shouting at him. People began to stare, so he ran. He tried pushing his way back through the crowd, but everyone was yelling at him. Calling him a killer, a murderer.

"He's looking better, isn't he?" A soft feminine voice sang out.

"Better than he was, but that's not saying much." Came the gruffer voice of an older man. "The process takes time, he'll be fine."

"Get better Max, you better or I'll…" The voice faded away as Max was plunged into darkness.

"You are a murderer, aren't you?" That was Trent's voice.

But Trent is dead, I killed him, Max thought.

"Yes, you did kill me, you murdered me." He hissed, and suddenly Max found himself reliving it. He had Trent by the neck. He was drinking Trent's blood. It was DELICIOUS. "Murderer," The voice accused.

No, I didn't murder you. You were going to kill Elmira, Max tried to say. But he couldn't stop drinking Trent's blood. DELICIOUS, Max couldn't stop, he didn't want to, so he drank faster. Below him Trent grunted in pain. His face was twisted in fear and his eyes seemed to whisper; see, you are a murderer.

And suddenly Max was in an ornate chamber. Faces of Kindred he didn't recognize stared at him as he walked forward, toward an older man seated on a throne. The man was every-inch a king. His vest a rich burgundy, hair neatly trimmed, he rose as Max approached.

Max opened his mouth to ask where he was, instead, what came out was, "Grandfather, I am at your service." Max kneeled before the man. Strange, Max hadn't kneeled, he hadn't meant to say those words, they had just slipped out. He had felt his mouth form the words as if someone else had been controlling him.

"Mine own blood, you are well received. I have great need of you." The older man intoned. Max's head snapped up to look at the old man. It's as if I'm looking through someone else's eyes. Max had a sneaking suspicion that was exactly what he was doing.

Trent's eyes, I'm looking through Trent's eyes, he thought. What was this? Another dream, a memory, something else? As Max gazed out from his host's perspective, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face standing left of the King's throne.

All thoughts left him as his blood ran cold. He tried to force his head to the left. Tried to look directly at her, but his head wouldn't move. Not my head, Trent's, he thought. It seemed he was just a passenger. The face was all too familiar, yet strangely unrecognizable. He had seen it in a past life, it was a face he hated.

So, she knew Trent, she knew this King, he must be the Prince of the city. Trent said something and the Prince nodded, but Max focused only on her face.

This is where she's at, he thought. The Camarilla, by the Prince's side. This is where he would find her. This is where he had to go.

"Very well, if you are so eager, I leave it in your capable hands," the Prince said. Max, or Trent rose from the ground and turned to leave. Then more darkness, and for a while, Max's mind was, thankfully, silent.

The darkness gave way to a sound, quiet at first, growing slowly louder. It was the sound of falling rain. Max opened his eyes and found himself in his old car, his 69 Camaro. He knew it immediately; he knew every inch of that car. He was parked in an alley and rain fell all around him, pelting his car.

Max looked down and saw he was cleaning a pistol, a Beretta M9 A03 to be exact. He reassembled the pistol and pulled the slide back. This was his body, he was sure of it, but his actions were still beyond his control. Another memory or a dream? His own this time.

"She's in there, I know she is Max, I can feel it," came a voice to his right. Chris sat behind the steering wheel. His body a tense coil of anxiety.

Max felt his mouth move, "You have to be sure Chris, if we bring this kind of heat down on them and she's not there-."

"She is there, I know it. Everything we've found points to her and this club." His friend's eyes bored into the wall of the club, as if he were drilling through it with his gaze. The intensity made his muscles tighten like metal cords of anticipation.

"Jesus," Max looked back down at the gun and ran a finger over the barrel. "Never thought I'd be doing something like this."

"What other choice do we have," Chris shouted. "The police won't help us; the owner of the bar won't talk to us! What else can we do?"

Reliving this memory, Max could think of quite few things they should have tried, but this was a memory, and he already knew the outcome. "Well, the shotgun's in the trunk. Park by the back exit, if the talk doesn't go so hot, I'll need a quick getaway."

Chris reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're a good friend Max, I won't forget this."

Max gave him a cool smile. "Better not, you owe me a beer, and I plan to collect." Stuffing the gun into his waistband he opened the car door. The rain drenched him as he walked across the street toward the club. A neon sign that read, 'The Rose Petal,' passed over his head as he went inside.

Max gasped as if he'd been punched in the gut, his eyes snapped open staring at a grey ceiling. Stretching his arms and legs, he tried to regain his senses. A loud pounding rang through his head. His stomach roiled like an ocean wave as he sat up. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he turned to see Elmira's worried eyes gazing down at him.

"You're finally awake, how are you feeling?" She helped lift him into a sitting position. Max grunted and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a basement room with two other beds in the corner. The room had no windows, but a desk light gave off a faint illumination.

"Like I ran a marathon on an empty stomach," Max rubbed his thighs as he swung his feet off the bed. With muscles as stiff as sheet metal he forced himself into a sitting position. "How long was I out?"

"Four days, but I hear that's common." Abruptly, she looked away, "You must be starving though, let me get you something." She stood and crossed the room to a small fridge.

"What do you mean, it's common?"

She opened the fridge-door and paused. Instead of answering, she asked, "You want A negative or O positive?"

Max lifted himself off the bed, "Elmira."

"Hmmm?"

"Elmira, what's common, what do you mean?" She withdrew a blood-bag and looked up at him.

"In your condition, you really shouldn't be standing-,"

'Elmira! Answer me, please." Her gaze hardened, but she stood and faced him.

"I've heard short-term comas occur during transformation, but I'm only a Thinblood, so I wouldn't know."

"Transformation?" Max felt his legs wobble and decided he needed to sit back down before he fell. "What do you mean, Chuck said I'm a Thinblood."

"You were a Thinblood," Elmira corrected. "Now you're not." Shrugging she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Vinny and I are grateful for what you did Max, but I'm not going to sugar coat it. Diablorizing a Camarilla agent has put all of us in danger. Even if he deserved it."

"Vinny's okay?" Max hadn't thought about the youthful Kindred since waking. He had plunged a knife into Vinny's chest. Into his heart, Max thought. "I tried to put him in Torpor." The word felt strange on his tongue and he stumbled over it. "I didn't mean to hurt him; we were going to die." The situation felt surreal, like it had happened to somebody else.

"You did the right thing," Elmira sat on the bed next to him. "Baeric, Vinny and I would be dead without you. We won't forget that."

Max took a deep breath, "So if I'm not a Thinblood anymore, what am I?" Elmira frowned at him.

"You're a full Kindred, but I'm not the person you should be asking. Gary could tell you more than I can, and Chuck even more."

"You know Chuck?" Chuck had known Gary, but Max hadn't assumed the association extended any further.

"Yeah, he's always been kind to us despite-," She paused, smiling at him. "Well that's hardly important right now." She placed the blood bag on a nightstand beside his bed and stood. "Get dressed, eat, you can use the shower down the hall. When you're ready come upstairs and I'll take you to Gary's office. He can fill you in on what's happening. Now if you don't mind, I have to get back to work." With that she strode away, leaving him alone.

Max felt refreshed; his headache was gone, he was steadier on his feet, his stomach no longer felt woozy, and most importantly, he was clean and dressed in good clothes. The basement was small and barren of life. With only two rooms, a bathroom, and a cramped hallway with a stairwell that led upstairs. Max ascended the stairwell into a cozy bar.

It must have been a slow night, only two tables were occupied. Max saw Elmira bringing drinks to one of the tables and thought it odd that she was a waitress. He was largely ignorant of Kindred life but he hadn't thought vampires worked menial jobs. Gazing around he saw Baeric bartending. The grizzled man nodded at Max before looking back at the drinks he was making.

"Well well, our savior's risen from the dead. Hallelujah, praise be." Vinny flitted around a table toward Max carrying two twelve packs of domestic beer. He put the beer down and rushed Max, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Vinny, Elmira told me you were okay, but-" Max grabbed him by shoulders and looked over the skinny teenager. He noticed Vinny was dressed in the same boots and baggy clothing from when they had first met.

Vinny cracked a giant grin at him, "Surprised, huh? That was quick thinkin on your part Maxy boy. Uhh, sorry for trying to kill you by the way. Wasn't in my right mind." Vinny put a finger to his temple and spun it in circles.

"All water under the bridge," Max laughed. "I'm just glad everyone's okay."

"Yeah, there's been a lot of gossip about what went down at the shipyard, but It's been pretty boring here." Vinny waved a hand at the rest of the bar.

"I'm surprised you guys work here. I would've thought Kindred didn't bust tables for minimum wage." He hadn't meant it in a mean way, but it came out sounding judgmental and he winced inwardly.

Far from being offended, Vinny snorted in laughter. "What'd you think we did every night? Go on dangerous missions to get shot at?"

"I don't know what I thought," Elmira had finished serving the drinks and was walking toward them. She was dressed in a slim crop-top and denim short shorts. "You guys are just a bit different from the impression I was given by Chuck."

Vinny followed his gaze and saw Elmira approaching. He snickered, picking up the beer and heading toward the bar. "Yeah, well being different ain't always a bad thing, ya'know?"

"You're looking better, I left you A negative, I wasn't sure what you liked." Max wasn't sure what he liked either. The blood had been satisfying, but stale. Like canned vegies versus fresh ones. In truth the blood had only served to highlight the difference between it and Trent's blood. His memory of that night was fuzzy, as if faded somehow, but that delicious taste was crystal clear.

Max licked his lips at the thought. "It was good, thanks. Better a blood bag than, well my first time with Chuck was a little awkward."

Elmira nodded, "Chuck's old-fashioned, he prefers originality over convenience." Max suspected there was more to it than that, but the prospect of being able to feed without killing anyone gave him hope for the future.

"Gary's waiting for you," Elmira said. "I'd let you get your bearings back if it were up to me, but there's too much to get done I'm afraid." With that, she walked toward a room at the back of the bar. Max followed her into a spacious office. Gary sat behind a cheap metal desk looking over papers.

Gary looked up and said, "Thank you Elmira, I'll take it from here." Elmira shuffled her feet, as if wanting to stay. "I'm sure one of your tables will be needing you." She nodded and left, but not before grabbing Max's wrist and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Gary looked him up and down. "You don't look half bad considering what you've been through. Take a seat, please." Gary stood up and gestured toward two lounge chairs that Max hadn't noticed. Max sat down and Gary took the one opposite of him.

"I've got some questions for you," Max said.

"Ahh yes, and I've got answers. I'm sure you're confused about what's happened and what's happening." Max only nodded. "Well, let me see if I can't explain. Do you know what diablery is?"

Again, Max nodded. "I'll assume you know it's a serious crime too. One of the gravest another Kindred can commit, at least in the eyes of the Camarilla."

"Chuck's already told me all of this," Max said.

"Yes, but has he told you what happens to a Kindred who diablerizes another? I'll bet not, but a better question might be, how do you feel Max? Any strange memories that aren't yours, anything you can do now that you couldn't before?"

Looked down at his hands, he thought about it. True, he had woken up dizzy and slightly nauseous, but he didn't feel any different since feeding. Strange memories, "I was in a large room and there was a man on a throne. I called him Grandfather. And she was there." Max spat.

Gary's eyes focused on him. They seemed to drink in his every little gesture. "Who is she Max?"

"No one," Max snapped back from his reverie; he had said too much. "How should I know, not my memory right?"

Gary's eyes bored into him, "Right, of course, how about powers? Have you done anything odd lately? Anything you couldn't do before?"

"Powers? What, you mean like magic?"

"Well, no, not technically magic. Some Kindred are capable of powers passed through their clan line. Think of all Kindred as an extended family with our father being Caine. Cain had immense powers and passed them on, like genetic gifts. As the blood grows weaker, so does the number and intensity of powers. All the way down to me and Baeric, who don't have any."

"Powers like what Vinny did, disappearing and turning invisible?"

Gary nodded, "Yes Obfuscation, and Elmira's extreme speed or Celerity. We are quite lucky, it's rare for a Thinblood to inherit such powers."

"And what Trent did to Vinny? How he controlled him?"

Gary shifted, "As I've said, there are many such powers. The higher your blood potency the more powerful these abilities become. And…" Chuck gave him a toothy grin. "If one were to ingest the blood, they could learn these powers."

Max sat back thoughtfully, "So, I can do that too?" He imagined having the power to control others, to order them to kill their friends. The thought made him feel queasy.

"Well, you'd have to be taught by someone who knows, or figure it out yourself, but that'd be like stumbling around in the dark looking for a black cat." Gary sighed, "Alas, I don't know any Toreadors who could teach you. Do you understand Max? You're full Kindred now."

"I don't feel any different," Max said hesitantly.

"No, you don't look that different either, but you'll be treated differently by the rest of our society. Which means you'll be in a great position to help us out." Max looked up at the middle-aged man with a furrowed brow.

"I don't understand, I was helping you before, wasn't I?"

Gary nodded, "Of course, but you were helping us as a Thinblood. There's a lot you can do now that we just can't Max. We're lucky if the Camarilla doesn't kill us on sight."

Max shrugged, "Not sure I'll be of much help there. I diablerized Trent. He made himself sound important, and if that memory can be believed, he was the Prince's Grandson."

"Grandchilder," Gary corrected. "And yes, you did diablorize him, but I pay a certain someone to stay well-informed of what's going on in this city. Everyone thinks the Monster sucked Trent dry. Along with the rest of his group. No one even suspects that we were there. Our hands have been washed clean," he rubbed his hands together to emphasize his point. "As long as word doesn't get out or the Prince himself doesn't stare at you too long, we'll be fine."

Max sighed, "I guess that's one less thing I've got to worry about. Wait, the Monster? He's been diablerizing Kindred this entire time. That means…."

"He's growing stronger, and judging by the list of Kindred he's slain, he was very powerful to start with." Gary nodded. "Now you can see why the Camarilla is so desperate to stop him. Help us," Gary reached out a hand to him. "We could really use your help, Baeric, Vinny, Elmira, and I."

Max wasn't completely sold. This wasn't his fight, or maybe it was, but he had to kill Her first. They could help me, he thought. No doubt they'd be more than willing to, but he'd be endangering them all. He had done this before with disastrous results. If She were to die, if he was to kill Her, it was best to do it alone. For their sake.

"I'll think about it, Gary, but first I want what we agreed on. I want someone who can tell me what I want to know. I want to talk to the guy you get info from."

Gary sighed, before retracting the hand. "Our doors are always open to you Max. As for the info, my contact won't do, we'll have to aim a little higher. Get in contact with her boss." Max nodded, but Gary raised a hand in warning. "He's dangerous Max, not the type you want to be around longer than you have to. Don't let him catch you off guard, and for the love of all that's unholy, don't take anything he gives you."

Max shot him a grin, "Of course, just set up a meeting with this guy and I'll be there. Now if you don't mind," Max stood from the chair. "There's an old friend I need to visit, is it okay if I borrow a car?"

Gary gave him reluctant nod, "Elmira has the keys to the van, but bring it back in one piece. She told me what you did to my Cadillac."

Max chuckled, "Your car's safe, a van just doesn't have the same… oomph a caddie does." Before he turned there was a knock at the door.

Elmira cracked it open and said, "There are two people here to see you Gary. They say Harold sent them."

Gary rose from the recliner, "Thanks Elmira, send them in." He patted Max amiably on the back. "If you need a place to stay, there's a bed here for you. I'll set the meeting up, and let you know." Max nodded his thanks and swept out the door, passing two dirty youths in rough-hewn denim jackets. The fact that they were Kindred was obvious moment he saw them, but they didn't even spare him a glance as they walked into Gary's office.

"You keep rough company in this bar," Max joked once the two Kindred were gone.

"Not our typical customers, usually Gary keeps his business meetings out of the bar." She narrowed her blue eyes at him. Rummaging through a small pocket in her shorts she fished out a set of keys and handed them to him. "Heard Gary through the door, you going to visit Chuck?"

Max took the keys and stuffed them in his own pocket. "Yeah, I figure he might be worried about me." Max wasn't sure about that, the elder Cainite had rescued Max from that grave for reasons known only to him, but Chuck had retained a slightly cold distance from him. He had told Max that Thinbloods didn't typically survive their first year and kept calling him Thinny. He might not even know my name. He wouldn't put it past the old man.

"Besides, he might be able to answer some of the questions Gary couldn't."

Elmira nodded, "Give Chuck my best, but when you get back, we need to talk."

He shot her a curious look, "About?" A cheer erupted from one of the tables in the bar. A young man in a basketball jersey had decided to chug his drink and was waving the empty in mug above his head like a trophy.

"It can wait awhile, but not too long Max," brushing past she bumped her shoulder into him playfully. "Besides, we need to celebrate. It's not every day you nearly escape death." She winked at him before walking towards her table. Not often sure, he thought, but it seems to be happening more and more! He headed out of the bar into the darkness.

The van had to be somewhere nearby, but Max couldn't see a van in the dark. Despite becoming a creature of the night, his eyesight hadn't improved much. I'm supposed to have magical powers, but I can't even see a fucking van. Why hadn't he inherited something useful like night vision. Max clicked the key fob and saw a flash of red from somewhere behind the bar.

The van was in the same place he had first met Gary and made that girl cry. He winced at the memory. Chuck said she was a Nosferatu. Her appearance had shocked him sure, but she hadn't looked nearly as ugly as the Nosferatu elder, he had found in the box. Max clicked the fob again, unlocking the grey van.

He was reaching for the handle to the door when the brush rustled, and a small figure stepped out. It's her. An overly large grey hoodie masked her face, but Max was almost certain it was the Nosferatu girl from the way she moved. Agile and graceful, but skittish like a cat. Like she'd dart off if you made any sudden moves.

"Hello," Max said gently. He had accidentally driven her away once and wouldn't make the same mistake. "Are you here to see Gary?"

The small girl's eyes carefully regarded him from under the brim of the hoodie. Abruptly she crouched and flung herself into air, soaring over his head, and landing gracefully on top of the van with a light thump. Max blinked in disbelief, the girl had jumped about seven feet off the ground, covering a distance of 15 to 20 feet. While not technically inhuman, the jump was worthy of Olympic athletes in both the high jump and long jump. A feat that should have been impossible for a young 13-year-old girl.

But she's not, she's a Kindred, he chided himself. She could be a hundred years old, and he wouldn't know it. Underestimating her because of how she looked would be a mistake. She turned to face him, crouching down. Max squinted, trying to get a better look at her face, but she had covered it well.

"I'm here for you actually. My name's Sarah, and you're Max, correct?"

He cracked a smile at her, "That's me alright, nice to meet you Sarah." Max extended his hand toward her. She looked at it before shaking it tentatively with her own. He noticed what looked like cold sores on the back of her hand and did his best to keep from wincing when his fingers made contact with them.

She withdrew her hand, "I guess you can be polite when you want to." Max let out a nervous chuckle.

"Yeah sorry for that, I…"What do I say? Sorry, you were so ugly you surprised me? "I had never met one of your kind." He put gently. "Did Gary tell you to meet me here?"

She shook her head, "He didn't need to, your exploits are on everyone's lips right now."

Max felt a flash of panic, Gary had told him that the Monster was being blamed for Trent's unfortunate fate. The girl must have seen the panic in his eyes, for she said, "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Gary and I are business partners."

Business partners, huh? Max thought wryly. "You're the one who told him about the shipyard, aren't you?" She gave him a cautious nod.

"Knowing things is the business of my clan."

"And how do you go about knowing things?" Max asked.

"She gave him a cryptic look, "There are many ways, documents, internet, word of mouth, or simple observation. You just have to know what to look for. For instance, a thinblood who becomes full kindred." She flashed him a knowing smile. "That's very telling. That information could be worth a lot to the right buyer."

Max felt an uneasiness wash over him. I promised myself I wouldn't underestimate her. She looked like a 13 year-old girl, but her threat was anything but childish. Max didn't let his discomfort show. Instead he arched an eyebrow at her.

"But you won't because you're Gary's partner, right?" He challenged.

She let out a soft laugh, "Of course, but I wouldn't go around telling others you used to be a Thinblood. You'll already raise enough questions associating with them." She nodded towards the bar. Max gave her a questioning look. "Thinbloods, they're the scum of Kindred society, barely above werewolves. Kindred who associate with them are put in a similar category."

Max mulled this over, "So why do you associate with Thinbloods?"

She turned her head away. "I'm Nosferatu," she whispered. "We make other Kindred uncomfortable. We remind them of what they really are, Monsters." She slipped the hood of her sweatshirt from her head, revealing the grotesque face that had shocked him. Max tried not to react, but he must have failed. She snapped her head toward him and Max saw anger burning in her eyes. "Not that you'd understand, Toreador. You belong to the clan of beauty, the clan of the rose."

Max wasn't sure what to say, so he chose to stay silent. Instead he reached out his hand to pat her shoulder. She withdrew from him, huddling sullenly on top of the car. Fine, if she won't open up, I'll open up to her. In his experience, that usually worked wonders.

"Everything's been a confusing mess since this all began. Nothing's as I expected it to be. Other Kindred, this city, everything that mattered in my previous life doesn't in this one. Maybe that's why I was surprised when I saw Elmira, Baeric, and Vinny working in Gary's bar. Nothing else about Kindred life is normal or mundane, but here are these Kindred working normal, mundane jobs."

Sarah peered curiously down at him. "What'd you think they did with all their free time?"

Internally, Max smiled, happy he'd distracted her from her pain. "I don't know what I thought, but Kindred busting tables, restocking beer, and taking drink orders? It seems…, a little underwhelming."

Sarah gave him a thoughtful look before replying, "Be glad you all have the freedom to work a normal job and live a normal life. I can't do that." She angled her head downward, so her hair hid her deformed face, but this only brought more attention to it. "We may be the living dead, but it's all still life, if that makes sense. What we want is the same as humans. We're just…," She shook her head, looking for the right word, but she let the words hang there instead.

"It's still just life, we're still just living?" Max suggested, and she gave him a bright smile.

"Yeah, just living is all." She stood up and jumped down from the van, landing gracefully beside him. "Now if you don't mind Max, I'll be leaving. I have some living I have to do tonight." With a cheerful giggle at her own joke she strode back into the darkness.

Strange girl, he thought. An adult in so many ways, yet clearly still a kid. That struck him as sad, though he couldn't say why.

The drive to Chuck's was dark and desolate. Despite having been there only once, he had memorized the route back. It was a little past midnight when he pulled into the abandoned parking garage that led to Chuck's apartment. Chuck answered the door after only two knocks. Max heard the slow grinding of steel on concrete as the lock was disengaged and the door opened.

"Thinny, how long has it been? I was certain you were dead." Chuck stood in a bathrobe that hung a little too loose for Max's comfort. Chuck grabbed him by the shoulder and led him into the apartment, past his collection of masks, to the living room.

Max sat in one of the white recliners with his back to the wall. Chuck ducked into the kitchen before he returned smiling and holding two wine glasses and a bottle. "I heard about what happened at the shipyard, but I was under the impression the monster had ripped you, limb from limb," he poured a thick red fluid into the wine glasses.

"I'm surprised Chuck, a Kindred like you should be better informed than that." Chuck gave him a toothy grin before handing Max one of the glasses.

"It's a very sweet vintage that I collected from a drug lord during the cocaine epidemic of the 1980s. You can still taste it in his blood, though the drug has long since worn away." Chuck sat, sniffing the blood in his cup before taking a small sip.

Max put the glass aside without tasting the blood. Instead he looked squarely at Chuck and asked, "How'd you find me that night in the grave? I never really asked, I was too grateful and decided not to prod, but it's too convenient to be coincidental."

"I already told you the answer to that Thinny, but maybe it was too soon." Chuck took another sip before setting the glass onto a coffee table. "I'm Malkavian, I hear voices." Chuck turned his head and glanced at the collection of masks. "They whisper to me sometimes."

Max cleared his throat audibly. "See, that's where I'm confused Chuck. How did these voices tell you where I was?" Perhaps Chuck was telling the truth. Max had witnessed firsthand the awesome powers some Kindred wielded. On the other hand, his explanation sounded like voodoo bullshit.

Chuck calmly smiled back at him. "My clan is gifted and cursed with the power of divine foresight. Our divination takes on the form of mental disturbances. Some of us see visions, hear voices, or feel compulsions to act. I once knew a Malkavian who had a nervous tick every time her life was in imminent danger." Chuck frowned at him. He must have looked skeptical because Chuck said, "I don't expect you to believe me Thinny, but we are being given a higher truth by something…" He reached a hand into the air and grasped at the emptiness, "beyond."

"I'm not a Thinblood anymore Chuck, no need to keep calling me that."

Chuck gave him yet another toothy grin, "And you're still likely to be dead in a year's time Thinny. Let the name remind you of that."

"If I die that means I can't fulfill some greater purpose. Isn't that why your voices led you to me?" Max pointed out.

"Trust me, you can fulfill a greater purpose and die Thinny. But that ain't for me to decide. When I hear the voices, I listen and that's all there is to it." Chuck's tone brokered no argument. "Now I can't help but notice you haven't tasted the vintage I poured for you. Even among our kind it's quite rude to deny someone's hospitality." His smile took on the hint of a snarl as he stared at Max.

Returning his stare, Max took a sip of the blood anyway. He needed more information from Chuck, and it was always best to be polite. The blood was bitter, but tasty, like a dark beer. Far superior to the metallic aftertaste of the blood bag. He had to remember, the blood may taste better, but Chuck had killed someone to get it. The guy had been a drug lord, but he was willing to bet Chuck possessed vintages with less savory pasts too.

"Delicious," was all he said, taking another sip before sitting the glass down. "However tasty it is though; I didn't come here for your famous hospitality." Chuck steepled his hands and leaned forward.

"You'll have to indulge me; I don't get many visitors. So, what was it you came for Thinny?" Max thought how best to broach the subject.

"I've seen Kindred give incredible displays of power and speed, not to mention the more magical abilities. Yet the only apparent weakness Kindred have is sunlight."

"And even powerful Gangrels can tolerate sunlight for short periods of time. You're looking for the weaknesses of our species."

Max frowned, "I had to fight a Kindred that night at the shipyard and it didn't go so well." Despite the powers Vinny and Elmira possessed, Trent had been far stronger. They had barely survived, mostly because of what little Max did know about Kindred. I'll be better prepared next time.

"You look fine to me Thinny, better in fact." Chuck barked a laugh at his own joke, but his eyes never left Max's face. "Weaknesses often depend on their clan or the individual. Maybe they care about somebody, or their arrogant and prideful. Kindred have better control of their emotions than humans, but we're far more volatile when roused." Chuck gave him a teasing smile. He was holding something back.

"There's got to be something else, a commonality. Something I can use," Max argued.

"There is, but it's a touchy subject." Chuck leaned back and took up his glass, sipping slowly. Chuck enjoyed playing these little games. Holding information over others. He was waiting for a reaction. Instead, Max stared at him patiently waiting.

Chuck frowned but continued. "Kindred are emotional creatures. In appearance we resemble our prey, the very creatures we used to be, yet the very creatures we need to feed on to survive. We take what we need to survive, but by killing our victims, we steal what was stolen from us by this curse. Our humanity. We Kindred are torn between our humanity and the animalistic nature of our existence. This adds yet another layer on top of our Jungian shadow, and creates a lot of inner turmoil in our species."

"I enjoy discussing philosophy Chuck, but I fail to see where this is going." Chuck gave him a glare at being cut off and grumbled to himself. Max didn't hear exactly what he said, but distinctly heard the young and no patience these days.

"Since you lack an appreciation for the deeper psychological themes of Kindred, I guess I'll get right to it. It's easy for us Kindred to lose our humanity. To become deadly monsters only motivated by our hunger, like a rabid dog. It's for this very reason the Camarilla resemble the aristocratic courts of medieval Europe. They symbolize the height of civility, as such courts did in medieval times."

Max bit back a stinging remark on what he thought of their civility and where they could shove it. So, this was Chuck getting right to the point, huh? Despite being able to hold his tongue, Max couldn't help but fidget in agitation. He was usually better about masking his emotions but being around Chuck made him feel like a kid at the doctor's office. Chuck eyed the fidgeting and sighed in resignation.

"What you're referring to are touchstones, Thinny. They're objects or people that help ground us to our former life. They remind us of being human and hold immense power over us." For the briefest of seconds, Chucks eyes swiveled towards the masks before flicking back to his face. It happened so fast that Max thought perhaps he'd imagined it.

"All Kindred have them, even me?"

Chuck nodded, "It's something we have a deep emotional attachment to. Usually something from our previous life, but touchstones can be formed post-transformation as well. It's something we can't go long without thinking about. Something that pops into our mind frequently. Does that sound familiar Thinny?"

Max couldn't think of anything. He didn't remember most of his previous life, let alone some necklace, or ring that might have been important to him. Except…, except that wasn't true. He remembered his old car. Despite all he had forgotten he still knew how to drive. If he closed his eyes, he could picture the black 69 Camaro, from its rims to the interior leather and the grip on the steering wheel. Suddenly, Max gained an awareness of his emotions. Thinking about that car made him happy, calm, relaxed.

He opened his eyes and saw Chuck grinning at him. "I see you've figured yours out, Thinny. That's good, make sure nothing happens to it. When the bonds to our previous life are cut, the ramifications can be severe."

"So that's how I hurt other Kindred? I destroy their touchstones?" Max asked.

"If you can find them, yes. Those among the Camarilla are exceptionally good at hiding their touchstones. But if you were to destroy one, they would become quite enraged. Expose themselves and take unnecessary risks."

Max nodded, not completely sure of how this would help him. In fact, learning this seemed to only create another problem he needed to solve. Now that he was aware of his touchstone, he was doubly aware of its absence. A thought that could be appropriately summarized with, Dude, where's my fucking Camaro? He didn't know where it was. He didn't even know where to start looking. Another question I can ask, ohh joy.

Max stood abruptly, taking the wine-glass and draining its contents. No one would call him impolite. Chuck smiled up at him, "Leaving so soon Thinny?"

Max set the glass back down, "Yeah, there are other things I need to get done. I'm gonna stay over at Gary's place for the time being. Hope you won't take offense."

"Not at all Thinny," Chuck crossed his legs and swirled the blood in his cup around, staring thoughtfully at it. "I rather enjoy my privacy."

Max nodded and turned to leave. He was halfway to the door when Chuck called out, "Best of luck Thinny, I'm very eager to see what you do."