I slept the day away, like always, showered, brushed my hair and spent my nightly few minutes looking at the people coming home from work, envying them for the gift they didn't even realize they had. But before the melancholy became too great, got up, threw off my ever-the-same white T-shirt, got dressed, checked my weapons and headed down to the Empire Hotel.

The receptionist regarded me with quite a suspicious eye. Of course, who could blame him? It wasn't every day that someone showed up at the reception of the Empire Hotel dressed in leather and bluejeans. Well, maybe those eccentric rich kids who thought they'd look dangerous if they threw on a leather jacket, as if no one would see it was just an act, but other than that?

"Can I... help you, miss?" he asked warily. He had a slight lisp, but other than that, his speech, manner and appearance were 'perfect'. I smiled and said, "Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Locke." His face lit up.

"Ahh, yes! You're one of the... of course. And your name?"

Saying my own name would be a stupidity, so I did what I thought was a good move. "Hannah. Hannah Glazer."

The young man rifled through some papers on his desk. I couldn't see what they were, because they were behind the counter, but they must have been photographs, because his face suddenly hardened and he said, "Miss, I suggest you leave immediately, or I'm calling the police." He was apparently serious because he had already lifted the receiver of the phone on his desk. I didn't want to waste any blood and cause any commotion, so I spread my palms and said, "Alright, I'm leaving." For now.

I decided not to risk it and hid in a nearby alley, and a good thing I did, because after four or five minutes a wailing siren stopped at the Empire building. Little deskjockey had called the cops anyway. I'd get him back for that.

After the cops had left (probably with a description of a black-haired, Latina-looking female, fat lot of good it'd do them), I called upon the services of that old and ever-helpful best friend of every hotel burglar: the service entrance. The bolt on the door was easily snapped. They'd notice in the morning, but what did I care? It's not like I'd ever come back here (I actually would, but I didn't know at that time). The service stairs were thankfully free of people who were actually permitted to be there, and I reached the fifth floor without trouble. Some fool had even left the door to the hallway unlocked. For the price their guests paid, you'd expect they'd be slightly more attentive.

There was only one suite on this floor, so I didn't have much trouble finding the right room. Before I knocked though, I took out my pistol just in case. Because unlike Hannah and Paul, this one was consciously attracting people, which to me was an indication not to take chances. I raised my first to the door, but before I could rap on it a sensuous female voice came from inside. "Come right in. It's open." And so I did. The figure that was watching me was every bit as appealing as her voice. She was dressed in a bourgondy silken robe which hung loosely around her slender body. Her hair was a bright fiery red, worn up with a fringe hanging over her bright emerald eyes.

"Miss Jezebel Locke?"

She smiled and nodded. "I am she. Have you come to join the Ninth Circle?" She got up from the bed and walked toward me. As she approached, I felt the pull Hannah and many others must have felt before me, but the discipline of Presence, which I possessed as well, to a degree, has only a limited effect on supernatural creatures like we Vampires. I decided not to let it show and let her approach. "Ninth Circle?"

"That's right. Where we shall spend eternity in sweet sick delirium." She stroked my hair and bared one of her large breasts. Then she tried to press up against me, but I pushed the muzzle of my pistol against her hard belly. "Get back."

She started momentarily and put a step back, but she was unimpressed. She laughed, her breast still hanging out of her robe. I was a perfectly healthy heterosexual female in life, but if I'd been still alive and unknowing that her flesh was dead, she would have claimed me. She wasn't beautiful, she was ravishing. Of course, my dead body no longer ached for that particular type of pleasure. And she seemed to realize what I was now.

"A fellow Kindred," she said sultrily. "Now I see why I have so little effect on you. And you seem... unwilling to join the Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle? No matter. We will have you anyway, sister."

"I'm not your sister. Tell me, what is this Brotherhood."

"The Final Nights are approaching, sister, and the healthy and living shall be damned when the tides of fire wash over us. Only in sweet disease and death can we be cleansed. And we shall be joyful, festering and rotting!"

I blinked. "But we Kindred don't get sick."

She shook her head and laughed again. "Our fates shall be even more heavenly. We are the Carriers, those that spread the cleansing sickness. And so shall you be."

"Brother Kanker told me the same thing, and he was wrong too."

She merely shrugged. "Brother Kanker is not too great a loss. Not if we gain you as an ally. You shall drink my blood and be cleansed in disease."

I couldn't help but scoff. "What makes you think I'd be crazy enough to freely drink your blood?"

She covered her breast again, her hand went to her back and she and slid a knife out of the belt of her robe. Her green eyes fixed on me. "Better put that gun away. Police attention isn't something either of us want, sister."

"I told you I wasn't your sister." But she was right. I holstered my pistol and took out my knife, a jagged, commando-style one, like the ones Sylvester Stallone always used in his dumb movies. I didn't particularly like knives, but I could use them if I had to. "You still didn't tell me how you were going to make me drink your blood."

She laughed again. "Easy, really. I'll simply cut you open in enough places and wring out your little body like a dishrag until you're so ravenous you'll drink anything."

I know what it felt like to be ravenous. And I knew I would drink anything if I was hungry enough. All Vampires would.

"Interesting plan," I said casually. "There's only one flaw in it." Jezebel cocked her head. "The first part."

She carved the air with a swing of her knife and bared her fangs at me. "I look forward to carving up your smooth flesh until you beg me to feed you, little rat!"

I flashed my own fangs in return. "Let's dance, puta!"

The Discipline I had focused on in my Vampiric unlife was that of Celerity, and I believe it's safe to say that I was the fastest Vampire in LA and beyond at the time, but the sheer speed and ferocity of her tiger leap caught even me flat-footed. As she pounced, I only had time to bring my arm up to catch the slash of her knife. I could feel the tendons snap as her knife, short but wickedly sharp, cut through my forearm. I screamed, but despite the pain I managed to thrust my knee upward, ramming it between her legs as hard as I could. The speed of her jump dragged her down to the ground. She grimaced from the pain in the area I'd targeted and got up clumsily. I took the time to switch my knife to the other hand, because my right hand was dangling uselessly at the end of my crippled arm. With a screech of rage, she swiped again, but by that time I'd already boosted my speed using my Celerity and I easily managed to sidestep the swing with only a minor fleshwound in the side. At the same time, I slashed straight at her face. I was using my left hand, so the blow didn't have all the effect it could have had, but it still slashed open her cheek from the ear to the corner of her mouth, and the force of the blow shattered several of her teeth. Jezebel weakly took another swing, but the pain in her face drained her of most of her strength, and I easily parried the attack and pistoned my knife between her breasts, my newly-activated Potence driving the blade in, crushing her breastbone and smashing my hand into her chest all the way to the wrist. Jezebel gargled and spewed out a gulp of blood, but unbelievable though it may seem to mortals, such wounds, though horribly painful and weakening, are nowhere near fatal to a Vampire.

I wasn't just fast, however. I was meteoric. My moves were blurry flashes to Jezebel, who stared up at me with a flap of flesh dangling where her cheek should be, exposing the bloody and broken teeth and lacerated gums. Before she could even raise her arm, I had already struck her in the side of the head with a roundhouse kick. With both my Celerity and my limited skill in Potence charged into the kick, the impact was that of a sledgehammer, smashing her head sideways so hard that her temple struck her shoulder. The bones in her neck made a short but horribly loud crunching sound. Her body was lifted off the ground, bowled over a standing lamp and smacked into a wall, all with a terrible amount of noise. I ceased fueling my disciplines and the world, that always appears to slow down around me when I use my Celerity, returned to its normal speed. Jezebel's body lay sprawled on the carpet, my kick having sent her straight into torpor. No surprise, that impact would have levelled even the hardiest Gangrel.

Before I Awakened her for interrogation, I searched the hotel room. It was easier without a half-groggy, ravenous and furious Vampire also present. The only thing of significance I found (next to a wad of cash I pocketed), was a flyer with a strange sigul on it: a white skull in a red starburst. I quickly crumpled it and stuffed it in my jacket pocket. It was new, and already ruined. I could of course cut off the entire sleeve and wear it Mad Max-style, but that'd look ridiculous. No matter, there were more pressing matters to attend to. I quickly tied up Jezebel with one of the heavy ropes that held back the curtain. It'd probably hold, since her speed was greater than her strength, and those thick ropes were usually quite strong. I was just about to push my thumbnail into my wrist to feed her the blood she needed to Awaken when there came a pounding on the door. "Miss Locke? Empire Hotel Security! Are you alright in there?"

Damnit. The floors of this place were thinner than I thought. Why did those humans always show up when they were at their most pesky?

"Miss Locke! Open the door or we'll break it down!" Another voice. There were two of them, and the other one was probably radioing for reinforcements. No time to waste. Not only did I have to get out unseen, but imagine they broke down the door and found the ravishing Miss Locke in this condition. The consequences of an autopsy would be beyond imagining. I tore off one of the curtains and threw it over her body. At that moment the first impact struck the door. They were using one of those small portable battering rams, but the door shook in its jamb from the blow. Feverishly, I scanned the room and my eyes fell on an Empire Hotel matchbook ("Stop by again at the Empire Hotel!"). The battering ram banged into the door again, making a big dent. I quickly lit one of the matches and gently deposited it on the curtain. The fabric caught fire greedily. Bummer, Jezebel.

I leapt out of the window (it was open, thankfully) right before the door burst open, grabbing hold of the fire escape with one hand and letting myself dangle from the railing. If anyone was brave enough to cross the now-burning room, I'd still be mostly invisible.

"Fire!"

An alarm went off shrilly and I let go, landing soundlessly on the walkway below. I ducked into the shadows just in time to see the two cops looking up. They'd probably positioned themselves under the fire escape in case someone fled out the window after the noise in the late Ms. Locke's room. I waited until they were done marvelling at the fire and they resumed their conversation, and headed up to the roof, since going down would be impossible to do without being noticed.

I had escaped the room and reached the roof, but I was far from safe. In minutes there'd be more cops, several fire trucks, ambulances and worst of all, the ubiquitous American TV-news choppers.

I was hungry, but I still had enough blood to burn, and I boosted my Celerity again, making a running jump to another building. In a flash, I cleared the broad street many storeys below and landed on the roof of a nearby apartment building. From there I descended to the street, and I was in the clear. But if I ever came to that hotel again, I resolved, I'd take my vengeance on that little receptionist. I actually got revenge on him a while later, but I'll tell that story some other time.

I headed home for the night, to check my e-mail and to pull some strings. I'd have to, if this fire was investigated. Perhaps on the way I'd get lucky and score a quick meal. I didn't.