In the depths of her coma-like slumber, Anonymous M began to dream. She found herself in a hospital room, the color palette bland and sickly, the starched bed filled by a young woman who had tears in her eyes. She was holding something in her arms, cradling it against her breast, letting the tears drop onto it. But there was a man in his BDUs kneeling before her, and so Anonymous M could not see.
She was just a fly on the wall, watching this dramatic moment unfold without noticing she was there. And so she allowed the dream to go on, only wondering a little why it came about in the first place.
The couple sat in silence for a moment. Nurses hurried by the doors and machines beeped. Patients were being raced down the hallway on gurneys, a trail of doctors shouting behind them. Someone was crying in the next room. But the two sitting in front of her seemed to be withdrawn into their own world, holding each other's hand and rubbing the fingers.
Finally, the woman dropped her hold of the man's hand and breathed like she was going to speak.
"John," she said. So the man before her was the man the fledgling made a meal of. Whatever became of him….?
"John, this is all your fault." Boom. The veil was dropped and the outside noises came rushing in. The words hung thick in the air for a moment, began to press upon the man's chest with all their might. He felt his heart begin to pick up speed and his throat closed a little. Bad news does damage on the human body.
Shocked, the man raised his shaved head up to look at her.
"All my fault?" he hissed, breathless. "Carmen…how can you say that? I got deployed, I couldn't do anything about that."
She seemed to think about this fact, flip it over in her brain until she found the words to reply with.
"Yes, but I asked you not to go."
"What?"
"You knew I was pregnant before you even went to boot camp."
"Carmen, I couldn't just back out! I—" The man was fighting for words. The tears were starting, choking him. Ruining him. "You don't think this hurts me too?"
From her vantage point across from the woman, the fledgling could see the piercing look in her eyes. It was one of deep resentment and regret, and even just watching the exchange, she could feel the hatred ooze from her pupils. And though she could not see him, the shaking shoulders of John's broad frame were enough to tell her he was crying. She felt a sliver of regret for filling herself with his blood and came to understand why he was reserved when she had asked him about his life.
But these were the stories in the blood of those she would feed on. They had families, tragedies, goals. The blood would tell her if she did not know before.
"If I had someone there to help me, this wouldn't have happened, John."
"Carmen," he pleaded, "I helped you. I talked to you every night over our webcams, sent you money and links to stores where we could find baby clothes. I wrote to you, you sent me sonograms. What more could you expect?"
His pleas were not heard. She already made up her mind. She issued her final decree:
"Leave. I never want to see you again."
John sat completely still for a moment, becoming a statue. He let it seep into his skin and his brain, hoping that he might be able to understand it, but he couldn't. However, she wanted him gone, so he stood, trying to find something to help him get on his wobbly legs.
The anger started with a kick to a chair. And then it escalated to a chair slamming against the wall. And amongst the screaming and doctors trying to pull John out of the room, the fledgling saw the lifeless newborn clutched in Carmen's arms.
She felt the shock of the powerful realization, but a more powerful force was trying to get her attention. While the commotion melded into a single stream of noise in the back of her mind, a whispering male voice was saying:
"Wake up, fledgling. Awaken your mind to the dark helper standing over you."
She opened her eyes at the exact moment a man near her was saying: "Poor John."
He was seated beside her, above her on a metal desk. She was lying prone in what appeared to be a coffin next to it. Immediately, Anonymous M sat up on her elbows and scanned the room for a possible escape.
"Who are you?" she demanded of the man. His leather-clad legs were crossed over each other, suede boots tapping the side of the desk. The rest of him was covered in a black tailcoat with an upturned neck, the style very much like the gothic vampires of comic books. His skin was black, his head was bald, and he sported a brilliantly handsome smile that could melt any mortal.
He looked to be pleasantly surprised by her.
"Are you going to kill me?" she then asked. Survival was her only mode of the thinking at the moment.
"Do you think you deserve to die?" he replied, his fangs showing with that glimmering smile.
"No." He was pleasantly amused by the answer. "I have done nothing wrong."
He giggled. "Oh, that is what you think, fledgling. Do you think you get dreams about your victims every time you feed?"
She was silent because his question was stupidly and insultingly obvious.
"The answer is no. You only get the memories of your victims when you kill them. It's usually their most traumatizing one."
"Kill?" She felt the forbidden word slither from between her lips. The fledgling sat up now, resting her head in her palms while she thought. Kill. It was powerful to know that she took a man's life. Hurtful to know that she took an innocent one. A man that had been hit by a tragic death in his life. A man who lost everything and might have been able to get all of it back if she had never come along. She should not have accepted the ride. All she wanted was something to tide her over….
"You'll be rid of those feelings soon enough. It is something that has happened to all of us. And besides, if that had not happened, you would still be lost in the forest."
"So that means I do deserve to die…" she said, ignoring him.
"No. Under any other circumstance, yes, but being abandoned rests with your sire. What happened was his responsibility."
"I didn't want to kill him, though. I just wanted a little drink. I was so thirsty…it was like a fire burning throughout my entire body!"
"That was the Beast, my dear. When you haven't had anything, you slowly slip away into your animal-like nature, your id. And again, that is on your sire. If you want revenge for the fact that you accidently killed a man, then you may request to lead the hunt for him. I haven't sent word about you to the prince just yet."
For a moment, she considered that. But she didn't even know her sire. She couldn't even remember her embrace.
"He probably drugged you," the man said. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear his accent. He sounded Haitian or some sort of French. She would ask him later. And he seemed to be reading her.
"Please stop listening to my thoughts, if you are. I don't like it when people invade my privacy, and the thought of someone invading my mind, my precious commodity, makes me ill in the gut."
"I'm sorry, I will stop. I was doing it to make sure you weren't a spy or anything. It is a gift my clan has."
Gift? Clan? Spy? It was a week ago when she was turned, and she still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that vampires existed and she was now one of them. It was both a joyous and shocking occasion for her. Joyous because she had always fantasized about being one and shocking because they had only ever existed in her books and games. Adding all of these other new things to her knowledge made her thoughts race past like objects outside of a car on a highway.
"Look," she said, rising out of the black cherry wood coffin. She was still wearing the clothes she had on when she blacked-out. "I need a moment. I'm new to this, and up until now I thought I knew vampires in that they existed in mythology and lore. I was turned without my knowledge, awoke in the middle of a remote forest, and killed a man a week later because I was dying of starvation. Please, go slow with me. I am neurotic and need to take my information one bit at a time." That last sentence had a small bite of condescension.
He laughed, but not at her. It was at his own insensitivity.
"Forgive me, fledgling. You have to understand, I have been dealing with vampires for centuries. And all of them had been trained by their sires before meeting me. I have never sired a childe myself before." She sighed at the mention of another term she was unfamiliar with. He felt a tinge of guilt.
"My dear, I can tell you and I are of like minds. We are both smarter than our own good, and that means that when we know something, we inadvertently flaunt it. So I am sorry. Shall you have a shower? I have a fresh change of clothes for you."
Some relief washed over her. She had one more question for him.
"Why are you helping me?"
He smiled again in his charming demeanor.
"I myself was abandoned by my sire and given a second chance by a different vampire. My, erm…master as a lot of vampire literature puts it. I was embraced—turned—about three hundred and fifty years ago in Haiti by one of the French settlers."
Her eyes grew wide. Of course the best thing about meeting vampires was their colorful and ever-diverse backgrounds. She wondered if they were all so open about it. Three hundred and fifty years old…she couldn't even imagine. Living that long would be sublime to her.
He laughed again.
"All of the new fledglings react like that when I tell them."
"How did he abandon you, though?"
"Well, he embraced me and then wasted no time in bringing me back to Europe with him. It was his way of 'assimilating' me into the white man's culture. At the time, many white men believed it was their duty and obligation to 'fix' the natives in the lands they colonized. And so for two months he taught me about Western culture, taught me French and how to read it, taught me the sciences and literature, and of course about vampirism. He introduced me to the Camarilla, the vampire organization I will talk to you about later. I learned all of this in those two months, and then he disappeared. Told me his duty was done."
The fledgling hummed in understanding.
"How long do sires usually stay with their um...childe?" She asked. "Because it seems like he taught you everything you needed to know."
"Oh no, sires usually stay with their childe for eternity. They may not be in good standing, but they will always come back for each other somehow. It's similar to the big and little bonds of a fraternity or sorority."
Anonymous M smiled, but it was melancholic.
"I was a part of a sorority," she said.
"You don't look the type."
"I'm not. I mostly joined it for my big."
"So you understand what I mean then, fledgling."
She turned to the man still seated on the desk. His skin was flawless, and she had not noticed before that his dark eyes seemed to glow of their own volition. He reminded her of a cat—naturally sensual. This made him a little erotic. The thought of her looking the same excited her.
"You still didn't answer my question," she said.
"Which was?"
"Why did you help me?"
"The same reason why most vampires sire childer. I was lonely. And when my shapeshifting friend discovered you and brought you to me, I felt that pang of a fatherly instinct inside of me. Hundreds of sires and childer have passed through my doors and I have only just recently come to understand the benefit of such a relationship for both parties."
He stood with her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I have also seen the ashes of dead childer who were abandoned by their sires, put down because they did not know of the Masquerade and were putting our secrets at risk. Be thankful that my man found you and not the prince's. The Ventrue do not tolerate such things."
A beat of silence from the clueless fledgling. She desperately wanted to know more, but couldn't take any just yet.
"What is your name, my childe?"
"I have abandoned it."
"Why?"
"I will never go back to my mortal life, so why not?"
"So what is your immortal name?"
"Anonymous M. I think it has a nice ring to it."
He smiled to himself. He thirsted to know more about the young woman behind this quirkiness.
"I like it, Anonymous M. My name is Seamus and that is a name I also took after I became immortal." A firm handshake. "Now, shall we find you some clothes and a shower?"
"Please."
Anonymous M could see herself in the mirror. Vampires had reflections.
She looked as she had while mortal—about five feet, six inches tall and of a naturally small frame. She was the type of woman who had to buy bathing suits in separate pieces because her thighs were muscular and her butt couldn't fit into small bottoms, but her waist was small and her breasts didn't exceed a B cup. Sometimes, she thought that the only reason she couldn't fit into extra-small t-shirts was because she had broad shoulders.
She was of European descent, particularly Irish, so her face was round and cheekbones high and wide. Her eyes, however, had an almond shape to them, probably because of a Cherokee background her aunt always told her, though Americans were always talking about the Native American backgrounds they didn't have. And though she was Irish, she had dark, thick, and coarse curls and dark eyes. Black Irish, her dad's family called it. It meant they had Iberian blood mixed in with them which was later confirmed by a DNA test her grandmother did. From her mother's side, she carried the up-turned Polish nose.
The vampirism did not change her appearance much, it only enhanced the doll-like nature of it, and with the little bit of cat-eye she did with black eyeliner, her beauty knew no bounds. No blemishes or marks, even her scars had disappeared. And with the clothes Seamus let her pick out, the long Victorian dress with the fitting, long-tailed and lace jacket (all black, of course), she began to cry.
Tears were brimming in her eyes when Seamus appeared behind her.
"My childe, why the tears?"
"I am coming to realize what I am. At first I was scared. At first I thought I was dreaming. But now I know this is real."
"Is this the first time you have seen yourself after the embrace?"
She nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a towel.
"This is nothing to be sad about, my dear."
"Oh, I am not sad. No, these are tears of joy! I am finally what I have always wanted to be!" She smiled and wiped the remainder of her face.
"Why have you wanted to be this? Many see it as a curse."
"Because all of my life I was afraid of death. Afraid to the point that I developed a mental illness. I fantasized about immortality. Because as an immortal, there is no reason to be afraid of death!"
"Sure there is. Vampires can suffer final death."
"But not so easily as humans can. Vampires are powerful creatures. The only way they can die is if they are killed by other powerful beings. And there are probably so many of you that are old, yes?"
"Of course, but not nearly as much as the vampires that have suffered final death before they reached fifty years of age."
"I will try not to be as stupid as them."
Intelligent, he thought. Intelligent and a little arrogant. She did look beautiful, though. Any mortal would be taken away with her. The fledgling would always walk the thin line with her appearance. The thin line where she stood out but not enough to spark question in anyone.
"Do you plan to always dress like that?" he asked her.
"Of course, if it is possible. Again, I am shedding my mortal life. I see it as being reborn, Seamus. I have always wanted to dress this way. Now I can." She smiled broadly and shook her damp hair to unleash the curls. The last of the tears left her eyes and now she was happy. Such a change from how she had been feeling before.
"Do you thirst, my childe? We can converse in the drawing room over some blood I get from the bank."
She thought a moment and seemed to be trying to locate the source of hunger. She found it in the light burning sensation in her veins and nodded. Seamus offered his arm and she took it, walking with him to the drawing room.
On their way there, she realized that she was slowly getting lost, but Seamus knew exactly where he was going. In fact, he could have gotten there blindfolded if he wanted to.
"Did we just pass this hallway?" she asked.
"No, my childe. That is a trick. I will need to walk with you wherever you go for the first week or so until you become accustomed to it."
"A trick?"
"Yes, it is a useful spell my clan has passed down through the generations. It is meant to confuse intruders. It protects myself and the apprentices that reside here."
They passed more hallways that looked identical to all of the other ones.
"Vampires can cast spells?"
"Each clan has a set of disciplines they know and teach. Each vampire regardless of clan can see the life energy of those around them and strengthen themselves with the blood in their veins, but most disciplines are unique to the clan. I am of Clan Tremere. We can cast spells and manipulate the blood outside of our body, like a wand-less wizard."
He could tell that she was thirsting to know more, but he quieted her for the time being until they reached the drawing room.
To her, at one moment they were walking through the labyrinth, and the next they were in the drawing room.
"Did we just go through a wall, Seamus?"
"Yes." He gave her a smile and a wink.
He released her arm and gestured toward one of the chairs while he went up to one of the book shelves. He pulled out one of the books, and out the shelf swung like a door, revealing what appeared to be an ice box. Inside was a large number of blood packs. He pulled out two and sealed the shelf back up. Next to it was a cabinet of glassware from which he took two crystal goblets and into each he poured the contents of one pack. He offered one to her and sat down.
"Cheers." He emptied his glass, but she smelled the contents of hers, allowing the aroma to fill her nostrils and brain like a drug. And then, she downed the glass and licked her lips.
"Does the taste change depending on the individual?"
"Yes, those who are unhealthy lack many qualities. That is why I go to a blood bank. They screen for a lot of things when humans donate blood. Often to the point of even turning away people who are healthy but not perfect."
"I know, I've heard a lot about people being turned down simply because they have tattoos or a surgery in their lifetime."
"Exactly." He set down the glass. "So, what were we talking about before?"
"Clans," she answered immediately. She made an effort to remember so she could keep asking questions. "What are clans?"
"They are a group of vampires that share a common bloodline. There are thirteen, and each of them originates from an Antediluvian, an ancient vampire. Each also has a unique clan weakness."
"How did it come that there were different types of vampires?"
"It's thought that it came about because of each clan's tendency to embrace a particular person. For example, the Tremere have a tendency to embrace very intelligent individuals that are strong-willed and aggressive, and they are extremely selective because there is an entire political hierarchy that they need to keep in mind. Not only do they need to have the permission of the Camarilla prince, they need the permission of the Tremere regent."
"So how did you become a Tremere if this is true? It sounds highly unlikely that you would actually be one."
He scratched his head and thought back for a moment, three hundred and fifty years ago. It was so long ago that most people didn't know he wasn't a Tremere to start. He even forgot sometimes.
"My sire was actually clanless or Caitiff, but he was cunning and tricked the Camarilla into believing he was a Toreador, probably the easiest clan to mimic. So in being Caitiff myself, I was just a regular vampire. I was very intelligent, though, and I had a strong will.
"The Tremere regent of the area saw this and took pity. He taught me in secret because he had lost his own childe, a man he had fallen in love with after he sired him. I filled the gap.
"Being Caitiff, though, this meant that it took me significantly longer to learn the disciplines. While most Tremere childer learn disciplines in a few years, it took me twenty to even learn one. But my new sire treated me like one of their own, and I even drank the blood of the Inner Council like the rest. A few years before I was to master my disciplines, my sire placed me in one of the chantries as a neonate—Tremere fledgling—so that I would graduate on time and seem to learn at the same pace as the rest."
Anonymous M leaned forward and digested all of it. It was an incredible story, and a rare one surely since most Caitiff were probably shunned by this…Camarilla. But there was one plot hole that was bugging her.
"Earlier, you told me that reading minds was a gift of your clan and you read mine to make sure I wasn't a spy. How did nobody read yours and figure you out?"
He smiled. Very perceptive.
"My sire taught me how to bar up my mind to even the strongest of mind readers. And this is something that any vampire can do. Reading minds is the harder part."
A logical and reasonable answer, she thought.
"How do the Caitiff become Caitiff?"
"It's an imprint issue. Either they are abandoned by their sire or it just happens. It is rare, though, so many believe it is a sign of the second coming of Caine. But they have been believing that for centuries, and Caitiff have been around for longer."
"Caine as in the biblical Caine?"
"Yes, he is the father of all vampires. God cursed him when he killed Abel."
That was one origin story she had never heard before.
"So if I was abandoned, does that mean I am Caitiff?"
"No. Caitiff are when the clan's characteristics do not pass through the blood. Think of it like a tubular pregnancy. They happen even in healthy, fertile individuals. Your sire's clan characteristics most likely carried over to you."
"How do I know what my clan is, then?"
He sighed, and she took this as irritation towards all of her questions.
"I'm sorry, I am asking so many questions. I just like to know things."
"No, childe, don't apologize. That was me sighing because I don't have an answer for you except that we wait and see. I know for a fact that you aren't Tremere because of what I just told you; my story is probably the only one out there. Unfortunately for us, the characteristics of a clan do not show up as quickly as the vampirism does. For the Nosferatu, it can take a month for the blood to fully deform them. That is their clan weakness, by the way. The blood deforms them horribly to the point that they live like a hermit amongst their clan. But they are expert assassins and thieves."
She gulped. Now she would be anxious until she knew she wasn't one of the Nosferatu. The last thing she needed was punishment for wishing to be a vampire all of her life, a case of "be careful what you wish for."
"But what about the other eleven clans? What about the Ventrue and the Toreador you mentioned?"
"There is only two hours until sunrise, so I don't have enough time to tell you, and even if I did, you wouldn't be able to remember it all. We will discuss the other clans one at a time. For now, I need you to know the important things about being a vampire. Listen closely because I do not want you to become a pile of ashes."
She leaned in closer to hear him even more clearly than she already could.
"One, the Camarilla. They are the largest organization of vampires in the world. There are seven clans that are a part of it, mine being one of them. This means that we must adhere to their rules. These rules are extremely necessary, as they were put in place to protect vampires from humans.
"Two, the set of rules is called the Masquerade. Like people hide their faces to trick others as a game in a Masquerade, so vampires trick humans into thinking we either don't exist or are actually mortal like them. Always think about keeping that mask on and wanting to win the game. That is what I tell all of my neonates.
"Never reveal yourself to humans. Never use your disciplines in front of humans. Never kill humans in front of humans, and never kill humans in general. Killing humans also feeds the Beast, and you know what happens when the Beast is unleashed. But you were lucky. Maybe your sire left you in the forest because he knew that if you frenzied, you wouldn't be able to kill anyone or reveal yourself. Do that in public, and the mask is off. You ruin it for all of us and we will put you down.
"Three, vampire etiquette. Don't feed in a vampire's designated domain. Some do not take a territory, some do. Always respect that. Never sire without permission from the prince. This is an offense punishable by death. And if in the future you do sire a childe, understand that you are responsible for everything this childe does.
"Finally, the Tremere. I do not want the others to know you are here yet because I have not come up with a plan on how we are going to insert you. They do not know about this drawing room or about the room where you and I will sleep, so please do not leave these areas without me. For now, we will drink blood from packs. Promise me that you will keep quiet until I say.
"Do you understand all of these? I will continuously remind you until I am sure."
She blinked, surprised that she could practically remember his statements word for word. Must have been the preternatural mind.
"Yes, Seamus. I promise."
They shook hands, and with that, Seamus offered his arm once more.
"We will discover what clan lies in store for you soon enough. Do not fret, Nosferatu are a rare bunch, and you do not seem like their type."
She laughed nervously as they walked through the wall into the hallway.
"You don't need to read my mind to understand why, that's for sure."