Chapter 2 – Trial
September 24, 2004 = Friday
I was kneeling on a stage when the world was brought back. I tried to bring my hands around to rub my sore chest, but they were tied behind me. I looked around, and found Simeon kneeling ten feet away, his hands tied behind him. Serves the murderer right, even if I was still alive.
In a way, at least. Why was I alive? I thought hunter bitch had staked me.
Casting my eyes around, I found the theater packed with people. Many of the people on my left were rough types, like gang bangers. To the right were more upscale types in suits. The pale faces, though, told me everyone here was likely a vampire. My eyes silently counted the people already seated, and the few stragglers coming in. Over two hundred.
Why was I on stage? What were they going to do? Torture me for fun? Bleed me for pleasure? A man walked to the front of the stage, while a big guy stood watch over Simeon, a big, heavy blade in his hands. More men were flanking around the stage, all carrying swords of varying types. All looked serious.
"Good evening, my fellow kindred. Tonight we have struck a major victory for Los Angeles. The Sabbat leader, Simeon Bellomo, was captured along with his freshly sired childe. Many of the Sabbat's packs were destroyed, the rest scattering to the wind. We have won."
Simeon must have found that funny, because he was laughing hysterically. "You haven't won a thing. Andrei will rally the packs. We will take Los Angeles from you mewling wimps and teach the kine their rightful place beneath our heel."
The gallery erupted in noise, loud enough to make me flinch. Many of the people it seemed were angry, shouting complaints and insults at the fancy suited man who had been speaking before. He turned to face Simeon, and I swear I saw the devil smile.
"Simeon, you stand accused of breaking Masquerade by revealing to non bound humans the existence of Kindred. You stand accused of breaking the rules of Domain by hunting within the limits of Los Angeles without permission of its Prince. You have broken the rules of Progeny by not getting permission of the Prince to Sire a childe. You have violated the rules of Hospitality, by not presenting yourself to the Prince. You have broken almost all the Traditions that guard our society. As Prince of Los Angeles, I hereby sentence you to death. Let the penalty commence."
I watched the big man raise his sword. Simeon was forced over, too well bound to fight back. He looked at me, the fear in his eyes evident as he silently pleaded for help. I knew what they were going to do, and I was thrilled for it.
"Die you son of a bitch!" I spat at him, smiling even as I knew I was probably going to meet the same fate. With no way to get free, the executioner brought the sword down to cleave its way through Simeon's neck. The moment his head started to fall, it turned to ash. His entire body became ash and made a small pile where he was kneeling. He was dead, and I was happy. Murderer and rapist anyway.
The man in the million dollar suit faced me, and while he was smiling, it wasn't friendly.
"That leaves the ill-begotten progeny. The Tradition of Accounting states that childer are the responsibility of their Sires until they are released. However, this childe was not sired with permission. Tell me young one, are you even aware of what you are?"
"I'm a vampire," I said, trying to be brave for the theater full of vampires.
"Do you know how to feed, to sustain yourself? Do you know the Traditions we follow?"
"I have fed, yes. I can survive, given the chance," Ok, lie, lie, lie! "The Traditions? You got me. But as Simeon just like broke every one of them and laughed about it, I don't think I was given much chance to learn them."
"She's just a childe!" I heard a soft feminine voice shot from the audience. I looked back out on the crowd, seeing hunter bitch was standing for me. I smiled at her, letting her know I appreciated her speaking on my behalf. Maybe she wasn't so bad.
"Which is why she must be destroyed!" Lacroix roared back. "She is too great a risk to the Masquerade! She doesn't know the Traditions!"
"Were you Embraced knowing the Traditions? Were any of us? We Gangrel don't even get the chance to meet our Sire for weeks after our Embrace," Hunter Bitch shouted back. "Hell, I didn't even learn to feed until a Toreador showed me how! My sire never cared if I lived or died!"
"But you are still the responsibility of your Sire. If you had broken the Masquerade in that time, he would have been called on it."
"I say she was until you killed him," she threw back. "She hasn't broken any rules. She even allowed me to stake her without a fight. I say give her a chance!"
"Yea, Cammie! She's not on Trial here. Simeon was. Unless you have proof she broke one of your precious rules!"
That last speaker was one of the gang bangers. Dressed in an open blue shirt with some kind of white tank underneath, he looked every bit the scrapper. I turned my eyes to look at million dollar suit again, almost seeing the anger pour off him.
"Mr. Rodriguez, this fledgling is capable of destroying the fabric of our existence. All it takes is one slip. This is the age of cell phone video cameras. Small slip-ups cannot be tolerated."
"Still goes that she hasn't done anything wrong." The man looked ready to get scrappy, and so did a lot of the people around him.
The tension in the theater was almost palpable. The scrapper and million dollar suit looked ready to have it out. Finally he caved.
"Fine. But she will be held accountable same as any other Kindred, and she will also owe me a boon, as I am sparing her life," Turning to me, he looked me right in the eye. I could see the rage there, and knowing that power loving richy boys hated to be showed up, decided that the best course was to take the deal and get out of his hair.
"Alright. I'll owe you a boon. Just, uh, what's a boon?"
That caused the entire theater to erupt into laughter. Apparently I was going to become the butt of a joke.
"That means, fledgling, you owe me a favor. As the one to whom the favor is owed. I get to decide how it is to be redeemed. While I figure out the best way to use this boon, I will grant you temporary status as a kindred of this city. There are going to be, restrictions, placed on you. You will be brought to Santa Monica. There, one of my agents will watch over you while you pay your boon. Until it is paid, you are not allowed to leave. Understood?"
"Yes. Go to Santa Monica. Pay a favor. Until then, I'm under parole." At least I wasn't going to die, but what about becoming the monster? That's why I let myself get staked.
"Very astute," million dollar suit said, "Remember fledgling, we are a secret society. It is a secret we kill to protect."
"I've already killed. Not proud of it, I just don't want to become a monster."
Turning away from me, he addressed the gathered people. "That concludes tonight's proceedings. Thank you for attending." With that, everyone seemed to file out in minutes, while someone behind me released my arms. First thing I did was rub the still aching spot on my chest, secretly glad I had lifted my shirt to get staked. But I all I get is knocked out? Interesting to know. Maybe the movies don't have it right.
Soon, it was just me on the stage, everyone having headed for the exit. Santa Monica? And who was this agent I was supposed to meet? Heading the way everyone else did I found myself walking down a hall. Million dollar suit was talking with another guy, also in a suit but way less expensive, but upon noticing me, gave one last glare and then left. New suit guy waited by the door.
"Miss Flores, I am Scourge Victor Walsh. If I may have a moment?"
Well, they know my name at least. "Can I help you?"
That seemed to make the guy chuckle, as he reached behind him and opened the door as a long black Cadillac pulled up and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. A chauffeur hurried back and opened the rear door, waiting on him.
"I figured I might help you by offering a lift to your new home," he said. Warning flags went up from his tone. It was obvious he didn't want to help me, even though his words offered the very thing I needed. Deciding that the lift might be worth more than any problems that would arise, I accepted, and entered the limo.
"So, I will assume you have many questions about your new life. I am aware that Simeon has only just turned you this evening."
Many different things whirled through my brain. Did I have to kill to feed? Why was Simeon so mean to me, when apparently not all vampires accepted that behavior? Who was the guy in charge and what kind of Mickey Mouse Club from hell was I being forced into? Hanging my head, I decided to start with the one that weighed on me most.
"Do I have to kill to feed?" I could only look out the window, afraid his answer was yes. I'd seen a lot of vampire flicks over the years, and in almost all of them, vampires killed their victims by draining them of blood.
"No." What? I heard him right didn't I?
"We… we don't?" Why did I sound like a beaten puppy?
"Miss Flores, when you were alive, did you finish your meal? Or did you leave some on your plate? You will find it a fitting analogy later, after you've adjusted more." Ok, he had my attention. "With experience, you will find that you can drink deep from a mortal, and depending upon your own hunger, that it is all you need. You will not wake each evening with the feeling of being famished, but as you may have had in life. That soon you will need to feed, and can function well for hours without slaking your hunger."
"Great, um, thanks," I said, glad that I might not have to kill again. Ever. What is with people and vampires anyway? Is it just because, deep inside, so many people just like to see death and gore? "So, um, what kind of organization did I join anyway?"
"We are the Camarilla, a group founded by seven clans in Medieval times. Inquisitors were finding and killing us. We were nearly wiped out of existence. A conclave was called, and the idea was made that we would take our society deep underground. This idea paved the way for the Camarilla to be born. While many Kindred believed in the idea, two clans vehemently opposed it. Those two clans would form the Sabbat."
"Clans?"
He sighed, "There are thirteen clans, but only nine are currently in Los Angeles. The Brujah, Gangrel, Giovanni, Malkavian, Nosferatu, Toreador, Tremere, Ventrue and your clan, Lasombra." Holding up a hand to hold back my question, he continued. "The Lasombra are not well known to me. I do know that they have no reflection and are the only clan to have this weakness. You will also develop an affinity for shadows, being able to mold and shape them into actual objects. Your clan also has the powers of Potence and Presence. Potence allows you to increase your strength greatly, while Presence allows you to project emotions into others."
"What about the others?"
The man shook his head. "There's too much information for you to digest in such a short time. I will personally see that any information you need to complete your task is given you. Such is my job."
I looked out the window as we left the freeway. We were in some shady area of LA, definitely not the type of place I wanted to live as the buildings were so rundown. After several moments, the limo stopped in front of a pawn shop. Walsh exited the limo and I followed behind him. He led me down a dark alley through a door and up the stairs. At the door to apartment 8, he used a key to open it and let me inside. The place was just as bad as the rest of the town honestly. On the right just past the door were the remains of a kitchenette. I say remains because the doors on the cabinets were literally falling off. I didn't open the door on the fridge, but it looked ancient enough to have belonged to my grandmother. Past the kitchenette was a door, the only door in the apartment. It opened up into a grime filled bathroom. Just outside to the door against the windows was a turn knob TV with rabbit ears. An empty desk sat past that in the corner, and by the door to the hallway where Walsh stood was a twin size bed.
"Peachy." I was so leaving this dump when I could. Maybe move back in with Samantha. What's it like to live with a walking, talking Happy Meal?
"This place is used by ghouls sent here on their masters business. It is the only asset we have in Santa Monica. For the next month you have sole use of this," he looked around again, taking in the grimy walls and falling apart furniture, "haven. After that you will have to secure your own." He started to turn around, then paused when he got a text message. "You will also have to cut ties to your old life. People think you are dead, and have been for a week. The coroner has even closed your file. "
"But, Samantha!" I knew the auburn haired woman wouldn't stop until she found me.
"Samantha Timms held a vigil in your memory on Tuesday. Remember, the Masquerade must be maintained. She has to believe you are dead. If you ever see her again, even by accident, she must not believe you are still alive."
"So, if I see her, I have to kill her." These rules were so stupid! I was alive! All I needed was to just play it easy, make a comeback, and no one would know. Right?
"Yes. Dawn comes in thirty minutes. Might want to make yourself comfortable." With that he turned and left the apartment, leaving me alone in my misery. My friends think I'm dead. My family was dead. What more could happen to me? Being Kindred sucked.
Deciding that since I couldn't seem to cry anyway, I'd best prepare for daylight in the next little bit anyway. Glancing around, there didn't seem to be any place where I could survive daytime. Am I going to be awake all day? Or do I sleep?
The best way to find out would be to get comfortable in the bathroom so I stepped into the tiny room. Just too small really. A shower on the right, a sink and commode on the left. Not more than five feet long. Not much to get comfortable in. I think the trunk on my Mazda was roomier. Knowing that I might pass out at any moment as the sun rose, I stripped my clothes off, hanging them over the shower rod. Sitting on the commode, I didn't have long to wait before the first wave of sleep hit, like drinking warm milk. Knowing staying awake during the day was a losing battle, I closed my eyes, and went to sleep leaned against the wall.