Chapter 2 Immediately Afterlife.

Rod awoke in stagnant pain, he felt like he had slept on rocks for a week. Trying to make sense of his surroundings he glanced around the space. Municipal style green and beige tiles arched above him, a bare concrete wall was at his left. the arched space stretched out to his right, another concrete wall at the other end made the space feel like it was a blockage in a sewer pipe. The room was fitted out with wooden decking to keep the occupants high, dry and away from whatever was scurrying beneath. Rod was on a steel framed bed with a thin worn out mattress in a sleeping area overlooking a rudimentary living space. Below him was an old couch in a green which could have only come from the nineteen seventies. The couch was sat by a table from the same classical period which supported an old radio, faint French voices faintly crackled from the old speaker. At the far end of the room a rusted sliding door several inches thick appeared to be the only way in or out. Beside the exit was an unconventional kitchenette with a narrow fridge next to a worktop and sink. The only appliance on the top was a bottle warmer for baby bottles.

Sitting up was almost effortless, Rod felt strong but a deep pain sat in every muscle, joint and organ in his body. He could see surprisingly well in the dim light, in the kitchenette was a hunched figure pouring liquid from bottles in to a large steel mug. Rod did not feel fear as he should have, instead he felt connected to this person. Without being able to see them clearly Rod was sure they could be trusted, even admired.

"Hello" Rod called across the room.

"Rodney Butcher, How are you my mate." Said the figure turning round.

As the man turned he seemed to get taller and stood straighter than his previous shambling gait. A kind face with a greying moustache smiled to Rod, the stranger seemed like an old friend, someone who he had forgotten.

"Do I know you?" Rod asked, "you look familiar."

"We've just met." Answered the stranger.

Flashing memories came to Rod, the word blood lingered in his brain. He knew he had slipped up at some point but could not grasp the memory. Before anything else though he needed to ask the most obvious question.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Oh sorry mate, I'm Sol." Said Sol.

"Saul, mate I'm sorry if I crossed you. I didn't know what I was getting in to, I'm sorry." Rod begged.
Sol grinned, "you've got it all wrong son. You're here 'cos I approve of your thieving, I'm not here to punish you for it. I mean to bring you in 'cos I need you mate. And it's Sol, ess oh ell, not Saul."

Rod could not help but be enraptured by Sol, his every word seemed true, truly true and important. Rod knew he wanted Sol's approval and acknowledgement. He stayed silent and nodded politely so Sol could continue.

"I need to be straight with you son, I haven't done you any favours. You've been cursed with punishments not meant for you. I did that to you when I ended your life and for that I'm sorry."

"'Ended' my life, I don't get it." Said Rod confused.

Sol continued. "There is a lot to understand, first of which is that you are medically dead, no signs of life. No pulse, no body heat, no capacity for maintaining bacteria or viruses, dee e ay dee, dead."

Rod put his hand to his wrist then his throat, pressing his fingers in trying to find a pulse. He knew he should have been panicking but without the beating heart it was hard to tell what he felt. Dead people don't sit up, talk or think so Rod searched for some truth. Salt, pain and pleasure were what came to his mind but nothing substantial.

"you've drugged me, I remember you injected something in to my neck then I drank something… GHB?" Rod asked placing memories back in order.

Sol scoffed "Not drugs mate, this is much more dangerous. An elixir known only to us, it cures all ailments and invigorates the body and mind. You've got power now son, a new life and a new world to see. Sounds great eh. Unfortunately with all good things must come a big bag of shit. New rules, new enemies And new dangers. You are cursed mate."

Rod tried to convince himself he did not believe every word. He wanted to doubt but could not even muster the will to do so. He pushed through feeling to try to find some sense in the riddles he was being told.

"What fucking curse?" Rod pleaded. "I don't understand."

"forget what you know mate, open up to the possibility of greater things beyond the natural. All I've got for you is old stories, but I believe these stories are true. Will you listen now and try to hear me?" Sol asked softly.

He placed a steel tankard with a flip up lid on the small table by the bed and sat opposite Rod. He took a deep lungful of air before speaking. "Now bare with me, you can take it as metaphor if you like, have you ever heard of Caine. he was the son of Adam and Eve. Caine sacrificed his brother Able and refused to see why this was wrong. He was like the worlds first psychopath, so he was cursed by his father and by God.

"The living fire which has kept people alive for millennia would burn him, flesh and soul. The sun brings life to everything on earth, for him it would bring only fiery death. Food is one of the great living pleasures, the curse demanded that he only gained sustenance from the blood of others. Caine passed this curse on through generations of blood and now its yours to bear."

"Blood, Sunlight are you taking the piss? Quit the vampire shit and either tell me the truth or kill me" Rod mocked boldly.

"Well we say kindred, but popular culture is as fine a place to start as any other." Sol said as he drifted between cockney and proper English.

The tankard on the table had a small lever at the top of the handle, despite this Sol slowly and ceremoniously lifted the lid from the edge. Rod's eyes were suddenly drawn to the liquid within, he stared with confused longing. Without being aware of it Rod reached out with an extended finger drifting towards the elixir. He was cut off with a sudden snap as the lid closed.

Rod had to interject. "What is that stuff, Why I do feel like you're telling the truth. What the fuck have you done to me!"

"You feel like I'm telling the truth 'cos of the blood bond. Of course I am telling you the truth, bond or no bond. In the tankard is I believe B negative from a male donor in his twenties, its actually quite good" Said Sol.

"Blood bond, what do you mean?" Rod asked.

"Kindred blood, the blood of Caine is potent. Feed anyone your blood and they will be bound to you and loyal to your command. In making you I gave you my blood, that's what you drank, that's why you're bonded to me. It'll pass in time and then you'll probably start to hate me, may seem impossible right now but give it time. Remember it was me who killed you mate." Explained Sol.

Rod stared at his hands, "How can I trust you if I'm compelled to believe you?"

Sol waited for eye contact before speaking again. "I can't be trusted, but it's in my best interest to tell you enough to survive. I haven't done this often and I've taken big risks to bring you in. So you need to listen up mate."

Rod sat up and nodded, "OK,tell me what I need to know to understand this."

Sol began to speak. "There is a lot to know and its messy these nights. Basically there are thirteen clans, give or take and there are three main sects, but that's barely the surface of things. The sects are just cultural, political groups. Each clan however is a bloodline cursed individually by Caine himself. These curses were each applied to one of Caines grandchilder to suit their sins. I'm a Nos' our curse comes from the vanity of the grand childe of Caine from whom we are both descended."

"So we're double cursed, how bad?" Rod probed.

Sol grinned his mouth in to a stretched unpleasant V shape. "Most think ours is the worst of all the curses that kindred bare. After a while you'll see that we've got it easy mate.

Leaning in Sol said. "Look closely at my face and see our curse."

Rod stared at the ordinary man before him, his face began to blur and smudge becoming unclear to his perception. His brain began to try to make sense of the image his eyes were seeing, regrettably sense was eventually made. Pale greenish stained skin stretched and gathered in two wart-like lumps of sloughed skin at his chin and crown. The skin was cracked and flaking off in chunks whilst still being unsettlingly moist. His eyes were sunken deep and entirely black, but for a fine ring of yellow around the pupil. There were open wounds around his face, not with the fiery red of life fighting infection, but pale with a black necrotic clots sitting loosely in the centre. His teeth looked like jagged old knives stuffed in to a pile of offal, even having the colour of dull faded iron. He had a hunch at his shoulder and was bending to the left. His fingers were too long and tipped with fingernails that matched his teeth; sharp, metallic and rough.

Rod Sat staring at every detail in disbelief, then a realisation struck him. His eyes widened as he looked for a reflective surface. Sol handed him a small hand-held mirror, with a little more glee than Rod would have liked. Taking the mirror slowly and turning it to face him, Rod gasped. He looked completely normal, a bit tired with bags hanging low under his eyes, but otherwise normal.

"Why don't I look like you then?" Rod asked.

"You will son and it's gonna hurt like an absolute bastard." Answered Sol. "But I've got plenty of the good stuff to get you through."

"It already hurts Sol." Said Rod.

"It'll get much worse, that's just the pain of death which we all feel that at first. You'll have to take it for now. Just rest son, you'll need it."

"OK, but you know this is completely fucked up mate." Rod's protest fell on deaf ears.

Sol handed Rod the tankard and headed back down to his busy work in the kitchenette. The fluid demanded Rod's total attention, he brought it to his lips and tilted the mug until sweet crimson reached his lip. He pulled away and pressed his lips together and received his first taste. The flavour was rich and deep but the feeling of lustful ecstasy pulsed from his lips throughout his body. He planned to take another sip and savour it, but his instinct poured the entire amount and swallow it down like medicine. Rod lay back in despair, he could not feel anxiety or fear, just sorrow. It was not long before a feeling shot from his sacrum to the base of his skull. It felt like electricity shooting through his bones, he sat up in an instant and cried out. His spine began to move beyond his control and beyond its natural orientation, it twisted and jerked him over and on to the electricity then shot down his arms causing them to stretch and tear his flesh apart. Pelvis and skull synchronised to collapse and reform at will, tearing carelessly through the soft meat that housed them.

Never before had Rod been abused so badly by anything or anyone. This tyranny came from within, his own body betraying his soul. After enough time passed to break him, he lay twisted and exhausted with the ringing residue of pain deafening all other senses. There should be nothing which could dull such total agony, then he breathed in divine vapour. The taste and smell focused his mind, he opened his eyes to see a steel mug filled with warm life, love and everything. He pulled a barely functional hand around and clasped the mug handle. With care and caution he lifted the mug to his face, he breathed the invisible vapours emanating from the surface of the ocean of red. He felt a hit of ecstasy wave over him and indulged his every urge to take this gift in to himself.

Rod reached the bottom of the mug and sat back on the bed smiling. "Oh that's good. More please, I need more."

Sol shook his head. "No son that urge should not be fed, you need to know when enough is enough. If you indulge that feelin' you'll lose yourself to the beast."

"Bollocks, I just want a bit more. No harm… What beast?" Rod finally asked.

"It's mostly not a real beast, just an aspect of you." Sol Began. "When you were livin' your animal urges pushed you to sex, showing off and tribal fighting, now it's blood, blood and more blood. The more you give in to the urge the more the beast takes your mind for it's own. Before you know it you're a passenger in your own body. So learn moderation now son."

"OK, I'll try Sol." Said Rod rubbing his eyes.

Sol smiled as kindly as his real face could. "Pain's gone now I bet and that was a big one for a first change, so I don't think we will be here too long. Just rest now and remember what can make a happy man sad and a sad man happy… this too shall pass."

Not too long can mean many things, what time is dinner? When is the next ice age? Not too long. For Rod not too long was bloody long enough. Hours in pain and hours between waiting for the pain to strike. This rite of passage ensured the victim personally understood the word curse and the word pain. At times Sol would try to reassure him with tales of the curses of the other clans.

"The Ventrue clan are unable to drink just any blood," Sol explained, "it's got to be the tasty rare stuff for them. In time we all need more and more to sustain us, eventually for some only kindred blood will do. The Ventrue's curse will grow until only gallons of the finest kindred blood will slake their thirst, meanwhile you'll just be ugly. Everything in this world is paid for in suffering and its always better to pay upfront."

This was not much comfort to Rod, each break of bone and every tear of tissue was more painful than those which led up to it. He could not get used to or bear the pain, only live it as his new body formed. Once his skeletal system was deformed enough to satisfy the curse, his skin began to dry and crack as wounds and tares clotted. Feeling the transformation begin to settle Rod sat up on the bed with his feet on the floor. He spat the last of his teeth out and pulled off his only remaining fingernail which dangled a string of sticky viscera. Rod groaned as a sharp pain hit him square in the mouth. Metallic daggers extended from his gums stretching out in an uneven row. He held his fingers to his lips, which barely met for clashing teeth. The same pain transferred to his finger tips as thick jagged iron talons pushed through his pulsing nail beds. He groaned once more calling Sol's attention to him. Sol offered another mug of warm blood with some words of comfort.

"That should be it now son, maybe a few twinges now and then but you look done to me. Honestly that is the worst part of it, as long as you can feed you'll do just fine. Sol assured.

"Let me see!" Demanded Rod.

Sol offered the hand mirror. "It takes some getting used to mate, but you won't need to check mirrors all the time. Best thing is to just accept it now and don't stare too long."

Rod took the mirror for a staring contest with the monstrous visage within. His skull had elongated, the skin was stretched and scarred where torn flesh had healed. His brow protruded out hanging shadow over his black eyes. The signature ring of yellow around the pupil were present but accompanied by a second ring around his iris. His teeth were long and metallic, still fresh and shining unlike Sol's dull grey grill.

"Yeah you can really get lost in those pretty eyes." Sol interrupted. "You can't stare all night, you need to be ready by sundown 'cos we've got work to do."

Staring in to the total blackness of his eyes Rod saw something looking back. Something within him but not of him. He closed his eyes and placed the mirror on the bed. As Rod stood he looked to Sol and nodded.

Guiding Rod to sit on the couch Sol stood before him and spoke. "I need you to practise a few new talents, you need to understand what you can do. With the blood of Caine in you you'll be stronger, sharper and prettier too. With the blood of our clan, you can be impossible to see, strong as an ox and friends with an ox if you like.

"The power in the blood can be harnessed with the practise of several disciplines. Following instinct and with some guidance you can master the three disciplines our bloodline has affinity for. Obfuscate is the discipline of concealment, this is what our clan is best known for. It should come pretty naturally to you. You'll be able to appear to anyone as a friend, a hated enemy or not at all. Mostly you won't appear at all. Now it's not a literal cloak of invisibility, more a trick of the mind. There are some who can see through the trick, some kindred and some faithful humans have the sight. It takes a lot of practise to get the illusion to work on those types but it can be done. For now tricking the simple mortal eye will be enough, I've got no second sight so why not try it on me."

Rod shrugged "How, what do I do?"

"OK try closing your eyes and picturing yourself on that couch. Now imagine you are simply not there and that you don't even exist." Instructed Sol.

Rod followed the instructions, he pictured the ruddy couch with him sitting hunched forward his eyes closed. He erased himself in his imagination swiping side to side with an imaginary eraser. This caused a feeling like a flowing energy emanating from his deep in his body and pushing in all directions.

"That's good son remember that feeling, hold it in your mind until it's second nature like breathing was. Now focus on the couch and remove the imprint your arse is making."

Rod pictured in detail the imprint rising removing every trace of him.

Sol gave further instruction. "Sounds and smells all gone too, until nothing of you is left."

Rod truly disappeared for the first time. He felt the illusion working, tricking any eyes which looked. For that moment he felt like he was no longer present, he opened his eyes and looked to Sol.

Sol looked straight through him smiling proudly. "Son I've chosen you bloody well, some can't do that shit for weeks, boom, nailed it first time. Just proves what a good teacher I am."

"Maybe I'm just a good student." Said Rod cheering up slightly.

"Nah its all me baby." Corrected Sol. "My blood is so potent it passes on some of my elite skills."

"No credit for the student then." Rod added.

"Not yet, maybe later though. Besides there's a shit tonne more to learn yet. Now try to reappear, cut off that pushing feeling so I can see your ugly mug. Good lad Rod, now on to lesson two. Animalism is a discipline which uses the connection to the inner beast to gain understanding with the beasts of the wild. Honestly it's not really my strong suit but you may well have a knack for it.

"There are two… no three rats under the floor, can you feel their little heartbeats? Try to focus your mind on what is beneath you."

Rod closed his eyes and listened to a subtle scratching beneath the floor, he detected a hissing high frequency noise. Focusing on the hiss he was able to visualise splitting the sound to three separate entities. He knew where the rats were as he could feel their frantic pulses.

"Got 'em." He said

"Now call one of them up to you, just focus on one and say it out loud." Sol guided.

Rod focused on the strongest heart ignoring everything else. "Come on up mate." He called lightly.

After some scratches and scrambles the rat revealed it's self. It was a brown rat, long and fat. The rat struggled its way up Rod's clothes like an out of shape rock climber. It sat happily on Rod's shoulder and looked to him for further instruction. In a perfect synchronised motion Rod and Rat turned to Sol.

Sol clashed his malformed hands in a morbid applause. "Two of a kind eh, rats are one of the most underrated of God's creatures. They live all over the world and thrive everywhere. We can learn a lot from them, stay out of the light and take what you can. "He can communicate basic stuff, mostly images and sounds. He can follow basic commands but keep it simple. If you want a lasting relationship with a living servant just feed it your blood. I aint got much more for you on that, like I said it's not my strong suit."

Rod Dismissed the rat. "Off you go then mate." He said extending his arm to the couch as a rodent bridge.

"What else then?" He asked

"Keen eh. OK the potency of the blood can be focused in to actual physical strength." Sol explained. "Lifting, punching, manual labour all can be done not with muscles but with the blood its self. The trick is to learn the feeling of using the blood to lift.

Sol directed Rod to a concrete barrier, the kind used on roads to block off a lane or section. It had two bent sections of rebar embedded to act as handles. Sol looped his long slender fingers under the bars and raised the load without straining. He extended his arms out infront of him and held the barrier there as he turned to Rod.

Sol spoke unburdened by the weight. "See, easy peasy. Now you try."

Lowering the mass slowly to the floor Sol stepped out of the way and gestured Rod in to place. He stepped up and assessed the challenge. It looked too heavy to lift but he tried anyway. Rod's stretched and torn muscles flexed as he strained and groaned, the barrier did not move. He tried once more straining even harder and roaring, still no movement.

Rod turned to Sol. "I can't do it's too heavy."

Sol tutted. "Don't lift with your muscles, feel the strength in the blood son and use it. It comes from deeper in yourself than the biceps, now again."

Again Rod took hold of the barrier, he closed his eyes and tried to not strain his muscles. He gripped and tried to lift without straining. The mass of reinforced concrete lifted an inch off the ground before he dropped it, the impact shook the raised wooden structure they were standing on.

"Not great, but it's a start I suppose." Sol scolded. "Remember to relax the muscles and let the blood take the weight. We don't have time for a personal training session now though so, thus endeth the lesson.

"Rod my boy you have debts to pay and time is a wastin'. We need to go see a prince or two 'cos I've not been sticking to the letter of the law with you."

Rod screwed up his already screwed face. "Are the royal family v… kindred?"

"Ha no, too many daytime obligations." Sol assured. "No, princes are like MPs for our government, the Camarilla. They deal with shit locally but they act like they are the kings of cities and regions. The local prince here is less hostile to me than the one who runs London, that's why we're in Calais."

"I was here for a holiday actually." Corrected Rod.

"No son, you are exactly where I put you. Did you ever think of going to Paris before you got all those holiday deals to your email?" Sol asked.

"You did that?"

"Easy mate, people can always be shifted one way or the other with little nudges here and there. Don't look so upset it's not that bad, we all get fooled now and then." Sol assured.

Rod responded with certainty. "Not me mate, I'm always on the ball."

Sol shook his head. "The people who think they can't be manipulated are the easiest to fool. But I already ended the school day so it's time to get on the bus mate."

"So where are we going Sol?" Rod asked.

"Princes and debts my boy get used to them." Sol warned, "My man will have a van ready to take us back to old blighty once we've balanced the ledger this side of the channel. Then it's more princes and debts."

The pair left the safe house through the steel door, Sol locked it behind them with heavy bolts and padlocks. A short tunnel lead to an overgrown exit on a private stretch of beach. The sky was clear and the moon shone brighter than Rod was used to. The cold air of the English channel bombarded Rod with scents giving him strange feelings of danger and pleasure. A hostile world unveiled its self to its newest prey, but Rod felt the predator within guiding him to the hunt.