Chapter 8 – Hackjob

September 27, 2004 = Monday

I awoke the next night, still leaned against the wall. I went through my now usual routine of packing up the bedding, and showering. I didn't know if any of it was necessary, but it helped to keep things normal.

I needed normal.

Under the shower head, my thoughts went back to the security guard. He was the fifth man I had killed. Were our secrets that important? Was this all I had to live for now? Killing to keep my existence secret? My thoughts went unbidden to the warehouse I was supposed to blow up. Surely no one would be guarding it, right? No one ever stole anything if it wasn't guarded, no guards meant there was nothing to steal. It was that worthless.

I shook my head, holding it under the head to rinse the lather our for the third time. I didn't need to wash my hair so thoroughly, but I couldn't help but feel dirty for even thinking about Simeon's warehouse where my life had been ripped from me. That place had been crawling with people, and now that I think about it, humans. They weren't Kindred, just normal people who knew what they were dealing with and liked it.

Feeling trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place, I decided to just focus on the task at hand. Finding Tung. The guy was my link for getting in anyway. Maybe he could get me in behind everybody and I wouldn't even have to kill. Best shot at it anyway.

Turning off the shower and toweling dry, I wondered how the Sabbat kept people around them loyal considering we were the undead predators of human existence. Fear? Or were they ghouls? If that's the case, how did Simeon keep the like hundred people around his one warehouse supplied in blood? Too many questions that needed a teacher.

A teacher, now that made me smile. I was the only Lasombra for hundreds of miles. The Camarilla didn't even know how my shadow powers worked, and I was thinking of a teacher. Looking for my nonexistent reflection as I brushed my fangs and teeth, I thought of my clan. Was Simeon going to make me a monster? Probably, I mean, he did laugh about me killing a man. Or did we need to kill the first time? Well, that makes no sense. But then again, my heart didn't beat, I didn't breathe, and yet I walked and talked.

An undead predator. And people? They were my prey. I could feel something inside me, crawling through my skin. It reminded me of when I met Ed for the first time, and I tried to squash it. I couldn't help but shudder as the sensation passed through me, filling me. Then it settled. I mentally sighed as I rinsed the toothpaste out of my mouth. Definitely needed a Kindred teacher if only to help answer the basic questions like what the hell was that crawling in my skin?

With a towel wrapped me, I left the bathroom. Brian wasn't on the bed, but my clothes were carefully folded on top of the desk along with a paper bag that contained a new outfit. I pulled the clothes from the bag to find a new pair of black denim skinny jeans, a wine colored halter top, and a pair of black vinyl motorcycle riding boots that had a one inch heel. Also in the bottom of the bag were two makeup kits, one with glitter and one plain. Not a bad gift, but I wondered how they knew my size. I mean, perfectly. Unless this was some sort of present from Brian, which made me oh so warm and fuzzy inside. Not!

I slipped the jeans on, and after doing the standard skinny jean wiggle had them buttoned up. I flexed my legs, and found them flexible enough. I slipped on a pair of my socks, then slipped my feet into the boots. I eyed the halter top and slipped it on, finding it a bit tight around my stomach and ladies, but otherwise perfect. Using my brush I began to brush out my long, black hair so I could tie it in a ponytail when Brian walked in.

"I see you found Sharron's present. She's hoping you'll drop the price a bit."

As if. Though, it seemed more likely that Poe had eluded me and I was going to need a female ghoul to do my makeup. Or teach Brian. Maybe I could teach a dog to do it. Ugh, I hated this!

"Fine, I'll change the agreement. She can get her fix if she defers her pay to me. She can sleep here with you, and she has to be here when I wake up to do my makeup."

"Ah," Brian started, turning his head and scratching his neck, "she can't do that. She works Tuesday through Saturday night at a gentleman's club called Four-Play, but the four is a letter. Classy place, but the owner is a complete ass."

"Swell," I said, then thought about how she was dressed. A complete bimbo, honestly. I didn't remember much about her, except trying to shoo her out the door before the sunrise. Maybe I should try again, over coffee or something.

"Tell you what, have her meet me at three. Any good local diners around?"

"Yea, across from that crazy all-night dance club, Asylum. Food's alright, but what are you going to eat?"

"Don't have to eat, just be there. Also, look into a pair of cellular phones. I need to be able to stay in touch, like this meeting. If something comes up, I need to be in touch with you and vice versa."

"I can arrange something, I think," he said, laying back in the bed with his magazine. The cover said Playboy, but I don't think it had anything to do with boys because that model had no bottom on to that corset and was using her hand to hide her naughty bits.

I set the hairbrush on the dresser, hoping I had it dry enough that it would be nice and shiny. I really needed to get this locket back to Therese, so Jennifer could be free of her murderous husband, Ed. I figured I'd make that my first stop, then see if I could find that diner E had mentioned. Maybe I'd run into Lily. Just have to keep an eye out for Kindred.

I stood, taking my messenger bag from under the desk. I checked it for everything, then slung it over my shoulder, knowing it was ruining my image. Well, if I wasn't on business I'd leave it behind, or maybe I should get another car. Maybe a Mercedes.

I headed out, then decided to let it ride. I might not live long enough to need a car. I couldn't park one in the immediate future anyway, living down an alley like this. It didn't take long to get to Asylum. I didn't see any Kindred on the ground floor, but there was a familiar face at a private table near the dance floor.

"Knox!" I called to the ghoul. He waved me over to his table, where I took a seat opposite him. He looked haunted, like someone was chasing him. "Whatsa matter, not get your fix?"

"No, but I probably won't though," he said, swigging his beer. "I screwed up bad."

"What happened?"

"I was supposed to watch this Asian guy who's been poking around Santa Monica. Bertram thought he might be a vampire or," he paused, shaking his head, "something like a vampire. I dunno."

"So, what happened?"

"This guy got wise to me. Now instead of me watching him, he's watching me," he said, getting rather animated. "I see him appear around me all the time, like off in the distance watching me then he'll like warp up next to me, then disappear."

"That must be unnerving."

"It's freaking me out! I know this thing is totally toying with me. I want to put a bullet in its head but who knows if that'll do anything. So I was waiting till I talked to Bertram but hell if I know where he disappeared to. It's messed up." He took another long swig of his beer, then set it down. "Look, I didn't want to ask you but since your a kickass vampire and I'm just the lowly ghoul, would you mind getting rid of this thing?"

"If I got time, I'll look into it. The Prince has me pretty busy trying to blow up a Sabbat warehouse."

"That place? Wow! You really are a kickass vampire! Bertram told me not to go near it."

Oh crapola. "Why?"

"The Sabbat guard that place with Mac-10's and shotguns. All over it too. At night, they even have vampires running around."

Just great. Bertram obviously had a way in, but then I was stuck. I was going to have to hope I could master my Shadows before I had to fight for my life, or go in like Ripley or Sarah Connor. Where does one get an assault rifle in California? Preferably one of those Rambo types that used several hundred rounds and had full auto.

I shook my head, but that just meant more killing. It was really tempting to run for it, but then I'd probably be hunted down like the Thin Bloods on the beach. I was being forced to kill, like the first guy I'd killed. The fact that they were likely all involved with my torture in the days before my "death" did little to assuage my conscious, but I guess I was going to have to accept it. They were the enemy, my enemy, and I was going to have to get used to it. Maybe I needed to accept that I was going to have to kill eventually.

"Oh, before I forget, take this," he said, sliding me a drivers license. The guy in the picture wasn't Asian, but the picture was so terrible I couldn't tell if he were heavily tanned or a brother. "I took that off the guy, but it's not him. Hope it helps you find him."

Great, detective work. Who did Knox think I am, anyway? Nancy Drew? "Alright, if I can find anything, I'll deal with it and let you know," I said, getting up.

I needed to talk with Therese, and Knox's problems weren't helping. I went over to the elevator, hit the button and waited. The doors opened after a brief wait, and I took it up to Therese's private room. I didn't wait, knowing she was expecting me and walked in on Jeannette putting her stockings on. Well, shit. Didn't want to see that.

"Not even a knock? I could have been undressing, and who knows what I would've had to do to you. You're here to see her royal majesty, Queen Victoria, aren't you?"

"Yea, just made it back from the Ocean House Hotel, and I brought that item for Therese."

"Well, she's out making a showing of how well her lips meet up with the Camarilla's backside," she said, finally straightening out up and facing me. "So, can I see it?"

Yea, right. I knew better than to let anyone have it besides Therese. I've watched enough movies to know better than to let anyone else handle the final part of a deal. Jeanette would probably throw it down a drain, or worse, take credit for my success. "Sorry, but I'm only giving it to Therese."

Jeanette started pouting. "I'm not just some silly doll, you know," she whined. "All my life my sister has made me out to be a joke. She told you I was an embarrassment, didn't she? That I couldn't tie my shoes, let alone hold on to something for her. Is that it?

"She's always belittling me," she said, sitting in front of her mirror and adding her Gothic white face paint. "She's the smart one, she's the favorite, the success. Well it's not fair! This club's success is just as much my doing as it hers!"

"I understand," I said, "but I still can't give it to you."

"Fine, you hold on to it," she said, her tone now patronizing. Oh, she was up to something.

"Hmm, since you were so willing to brave that big, spooky place for my darling sister, how 'bout doing a teensy, tiny favor for little, troubled me?"

"First, what is it?"

"Do you know Gallery Noir, next to the beach parking? I happen to know there's a charity event being organized there. Lots of influential Santa Monicans slithering in for token appearances. But there's one thing thing they don't know. The whole event's been set up by a Kindred trying to establish their own power clique in our city. We can't let that happen, can we? So I need a young upstart to spoil the milk.

"I promise it won't take long. Take this knife," she said, pulling a knife from under her dresser and handing it to me, "Give the paintings a good slashing. Don't get caught and don't turn it into a massacre. And steal the charity box, would you? Buy yourself something velvet."

"Fine. I do it and the feud will be called off?" This was starting to sound a lot like politics, and I hated politics with a passion reserved for well, politicians.

"I'm sure Therese will be thrilled to honor your agreement when you get back. But in the meantime, get to the museum and ruin those paintings, then come back tomorrow. Therese should be back then." I turned to leave, but then she spoke up.

"There was something about the paintings, what was it? O well, can't remember. Have fun duckling!"

I continued out the door, but her words haunted me. I dropped the knife into my bag, and entered the elevator, riding it down to the main floor. Knox still sat nursing his beer, and I just turned for the door, wanting to get it over with. Finding the beach access was easy, just head west, and doubled back to find Gallery Noir. Small place, a few lights on, and an overweight, a sleepy eyed security guard standing half in shadow watching the front door. Pitiful. At least there was a rear door down the alley. Noticing the barred "windows" along the side, I went back inside the parking garage and noticed a set at near the door that was rusted. Too easy with my strength to pop them loose.

I crawled through the window to the alley, heading for the rear door. I doubted the security guard would even notice. Rent-a-Cop wannabe. I had actually made it to the door, lockpick in hand, before I was noticed. Well, he was somewhat useful.

"Hey!" he shouted at me, running down the alley. "Hold on a minute there. I'm afraid you're committing a three-fifty one, tresspassing on private property. I'm gonna' have to ask that you vacate the premises immediately or I'll be forced to radio this in."

Two thoughts hit me fast, either leave, or kill him. I turned to face him, and decided to see if I could try for a third option. Eat him. I was hungry after all. Got to keep better tabs on that.

"Wow," I said, laying on the charm and cocking a hip. "The way you said that was so, commanding."

"Well, missy, that's just a natural response that people have to someone in my kind of position." The risk, the prestige, the authority," he said, sticking his chest out and doing his best to suck his oversized gut in. "It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it."

"Wanna know a secret?" I said, running a hand over his flabby arm, pretending he was really hot stuff. "Power is a real turn-on for me."

"Uh, yeah," he said, blushing hard. "It's the uniform, you know. Women just can't get over the uniform."

"Oh, don't stop talking," I breathed into his ear.

"Well, if I continue to engage you in conversation it's a violation of code six-one-three. You know, uh, you and me should hook up after I get off my shift."

Wasn't planning on waiting that long. "How about we get to know each other right now?" I breathed, then sank my fangs into his neck. He groaned as I drained him, taking most of his overly-sweet blood, then lowered him into the shadows

With the security guard out of the way, I picked the lock with ease and entered the gallery. There were four paintings already on display, arranged in the corners. I walked over to the one closest to me, pulling the knife from my bag. I slashed the knife across the canvas, then jerked back as the canvas glowed red and screamed in agony as some of my blood was ripped through my skin.

I stumbled away, looking at my arm, seeing it was already mending. That was new. Must be what Jeanette said about the paintings be "off." I began studying the paintings, noticing each one was marked with a golden sign. The one I had tried to slash first was marked "Cain Cursed By God." The one directly across from it was marked "Cain Kills Abel." Biblical Cain? I looked back at the other two, "Cain Meets Lillith," and "Cain Spurns Lillith." A sequence?

I slashed the "Cain Kills Abel" painting, but the painting stayed slashed. And my blood stayed inside. I walked over to "Cain Cursed By God" painting, then slashed it. Again, nothing happened, and that left me wondering. What kind of Kindred could do this? Taking a last look at the other two, decided that you'd have to meet someone before you could spurn them, and slashed them in that order. As I slashed the last one, a line of blood oozed from the canvas and I dove to the side, afraid of being attacked.

The blood formed a river, and as I looked at the center of the room, saw that it was pooling blood from all the paintings, and from somewhere behind me. I never got a chance to figure out from where, the blood coalesced into a form, that of a man, but nothing besides blood was there. It seemed to look at me, then charged at me.

I failed to do more than raise my arm to shield myself, before the creature slashed at my arm. He hit like a baseball bat and knocked me back. I caught myself at the wall, and brought my knife up and slashed at it. We circled each other, then it brought a hand up to slash me, but I dove right, rolled behind it, then used my Potence ability to bury the knife to the hilt in its back.

He reared back and then pitched forward, trying to throw me off, but thanks to my Potence and now much increased strength, was able to drag the knife down his back. It fell to its knees, and I pulled the knife out. Grabbing the creature by its head, I cut its head off clean off in one vicious swipe, and it dissolved into a pile of ash. Looking at my arm, I could see the large, bloodless gash that was healing a little too slow for me to be seen in public for a bit.

I looked around, finding the a small box marked charity and pulled out my lockpick. Didn't take a moment with the cheap lock to have it open, and pulled out three hundred in cash which I stashed in my bag. I then left by the rear door, and after crawling through the window I had opened up. I stopped to inspect my arm, finding it nearly healed, then decided to see if I could find Lily.