I looked before me and saw four sarcophagi, stone with numerous bas-reliefs on them depicting the horrors of our kind. I gazed at worn figures resembling monsters with fangs and claws tearing at humans, kings on thrones of skulls being brought human sacrifices. The chamber itself contained only these four relics and was avoid of any adornments. They looked like tombs to be forgotten and yet I knew this was not the case.

The air was heavy, humming loudly in my ears and as I watched the sarcophagi it grew heavier still. I felt my nose swell and ache and my ears begin to pound.

A lid trembled on one of the tombs and I trembled with it. They were so heavy and as I looked I made out clasps of bronze, and pikes of stone nailed into the sides as if to contain something. I stepped forward involuntarily and wondered suddenly how I could see these tombs when there was no light to guide me.

My eyes widened as two lids shook this time and the tombs became more visible still. Names were engraved upon them, they were in a tongue I shouldn't know and yet I could read them.

"Feed them Ariadne," the voice on the web, the ever plotting, mad spider. "Let us continue the game. I need out of your head so let's kill two birds with one stone, serve me one last time my mad child. You may not bear my blood anymore but that serves a purpose because we wouldn't want diablerie."

I stretched my arms out as my nose bloomed with blood and red streamed out of my ears. Immense pain surged through me as all four tombs began to shake violently as if in anticipation.

Blood, I could smell it, a darker variety than mine, it overrode the sickly stench of the blood flowing from my nostrils. I reached out to answer it, hungry and desperate. My mouth met cold flesh and warm blood and I guzzled greedily, eager for the song of the vampire. I felt so weak, sore and thirsty that any song would do. The tune that ran through me came as a howl, a wolf to chase away the spider and banish the remnants of the undead four.

"Now young one don't get greedy," a voice warned me. "It is another few hours before I can enjoy dinner."

Black turned to red and I sucked all the harder, desperate to banish the madness for the canine.

A firm hand grasped at my skull and wrenched me back. "Enough." Beckett, master, must obey. Obey for the blood, for the approval and the affection. To disobey was to be cast out, to lose the blood and the power and the protection.

I shuddered until my vision cleared and brought the irked looking Beckett into my sight. I felt damp and glancing down saw my bed sheets and person smeared in blood. I glanced to my left where Romero's tattered watch sat. I squinted in the dim, struggling to read the time even though the dials glowed. It was just after one in the afternoon though the blackout curtains gave the illusion of night.

"Why are you awake master wolf?" I queried curiously.

"You awoke me," he retorted moodily as he sat upright, pulling his sweet nectar away from me. "Perhaps I was too hasty in giving you my blood though certainly it was the best decision at the time." He paused and frowned. "It would have been better if only Isaac had seen the sense to do it himself or Kent, even your brother would have sufficed. I am not equipped to deal with your nightmares."

"Daymares," I corrected brightly as I smiled up at him. "But not quite that either," I murmured, "when the Dream Creature waves I wave back but there was no waving. The spider spun the web of visions." I reached one hand up to my nose and another to my ear, the blood was dry and crusting and thanks to Beckett's blood it was already receding. "What is it when one feeds across the lands, draining from a body that is not there?" I pondered.

Beckett's amber eyes flashed faintly with curiosity before he shook his head. He looked unusual without his glasses, hat and coat, unruffled for him though still quite dignified for a Gangrel I supposed. "Why did the Toreadors have to be too dramatic to save you?" he lamented. "It is only temporary unless one continues to feed you blood. Although if you keep bleeding out as you have today perhaps the bond will have to be longer." He frowned again. "What a troublesome being you are."

"I'm sorry master," I said sincerely as I bowed my head. I readied for the beating, Valyrion had been quick to punish the eternal disappointments I created for him. Submit and it's easier, sometimes, but sometimes he liked the resisting too, it gave him a challenge. Which would the wolf prefer?

"Why are you quivering?" he queried with a hint of revulsion seeping into his deadpan voice. "Do you think I wish to do you harm? This is why I have never desired a ghoul, as useful as you can be the blood bond is a cruel thing."

"The last master wished hurt and pleasure all at once upon this one, warnings and lessons in the night, got to obey, always obey, got to speak of the antediluvians but I don't know of them. I should have been freed of the web but now the spider is caught in mine."

"Of course," the archaeologist grumbled. "I suppose given the nature of the Tzimisce your reaction to your current situation is understandable. Suffice to say I am no Tzimisce, which you know, rather I am simply an eager seeker of the truth."

"Through this one's mind you hope to seek?" I queried tentatively. "Last master wished to smash the egg and eat out the yolky brains but the egg is not gold, there will be no revelation in this one."

"Given the nature of the Malkavians, to which you once belonged, I believe it is entirely possible that you have a knowledge of which you are not aware the value of."

"I have knowledge of which I have no knowledge? Well I must then hunt through my mind harder and punish it for its secrets!"

"Quite," Beckett murmured with another weary look in my direction. "It is too early I think for me to be attempting to decipher the mysteries of a mad mind. You seem well again, at least as well as one of your nature can be and I hear the other ghoul returning. We will talk again at a more pleasurable hour."

"Please forgive me master wolf," I pleaded as I glanced up at him apologetically. "I do not mean to keep the secrets. I did not mean to keep them from the last master either, this one does not seek to be disobedient. Naughty, naughty, strayed from the path, do not devour red wolf, she can be useful yet."

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment before he reluctantly reached out his right hand and patted me on the head twice with it. "There, there young one I'm not mad." He paused and gave a flicker of a smile before he stood up and walked out of the room, undoubtedly to return to his basement confines.

Sickened by the smell of my drying blood on the bed sheets I climbed out of the bed and hunted through the old oak set of drawers for fresh clothes. The outfits were all too plain for my liking, a combination of Kent's unpractical pieces of stylish clothes that involved too much lace and leather and heels that would hinder any attempts to run, and Damsel's idea of practicality over style that led to rebellious t-shirts, ripped shorts and biker boots that would weigh me down if I needed to flee.

I hastened to the bathroom and scrubbed myself as thoroughly as I could of the bloodstains and sweatstains that had come with the dream that was not quite a dream. I still found the water stripping the flesh of stains an odd sensation and marvelled as the blood trickled off to stain the white sink pink. The thought of Kent's misery over the stains made me smile for a moment before I scrubbed it all away.

I dressed to resemble a Brujah crossed with a Toreador and frowned, it was neither Gangrel nor Malkavian but maybe it could just be mortal. I was still mortal after all even as I was plagued by the Malkavian minds and the Gangrel blood.

I emerged to the corridor just as Romero climbed up the last step. He looked over at me calmly and queried, "what in the hell are you wearing?"

"I'm a pretty punk," I informed him happily. I had donned the torn black t-shirt with Anarchy on it red font along with a long, open, black waistcoat, one of Kent's marvellous silk, red ties, ripped, black, studded, denim shorts and black stockings with shiny, black shoes and several bandanas of red, blue and green that I had knotted about my legs and arms.

"Well I did ask," he murmured. "I'm glad to see you up, did you sleep well?"

I nodded, an easy lie but it wouldn't do to have the grave guardian wondering. I had some faint memories of his warm flesh against mine, only briefly had my own flesh been warm back. I did not know if I still desired to feel it. I could recall another's as well, always ice and yet as welcoming and comforting as the heat. The Baron loved me with a dead heart and yet he had all the passion of a Toreador behind it, he had softened the voices with his love and that I did miss. If I had been down with him would the vision of the dead four have still come?

The grave guardian ran a hand through his thick hair and nodded but I could see in his eyes that the lie wasn't believed. "Well now that you're up do you want to get some lunch?"

Food, it was an odd thought to have but with the blood cravings subsidised I realised there was yet an urge for nourishment. I nodded and cocked my head curiously to the right as I took Romero in. "Different hair and clothes," I mused, "why is this? The hair was kept in strict control so the zombies had nothing to grab."

Romero frowned back at me as his hand dropped away from his charcoal locks. "You don't like it?"

I smiled at him. "I like it as I liked the old, I like everything about you," I assured, "but...it's like the poet's hair, messy but not messy...styled...very Toreador, has Isaac's blood shown more influence?"

"Er..." Romero flustered slightly as he looked away from me. "Yeah let's get lunch crazy cat," he grumbled.

I bounced after him as we exited to Chinatown. Though it was muggy and murky outside I still recoiled from the unseen but felt sun with a hiss. "Burns," I murmured as I squinted in the grey afternoon.

"You've been in the dark too long that's all kitten," Romero murmured as he glanced back at me with a grin.

"We shared a sunrise on the beach," I mused as I raised my right hand above my eyes and looked out at Chinatown.

"Yes," Romero retorted approvingly. "See you're remembering it all now, just like I said you would."

"And then I left, I shouldn't have done that," I added darkly. I dropped my hand away and breathed in but all I could smell was takeaway food, sweet perfumes and a faint whiff of orchids from trees planted to make the streets look prettier. Once I would have received a myriad of scents, with numerous flavours of blood dominating them all. "But Kent showed up," I recalled with a shiver, "to make the madness poetry." I felt my stomach twist in revulsion.

"He has never quite forgiven himself for that," Romero informed me quietly as he held out his left hand to me. "Even though we both know you would have run anyway. You talked about your family and you went to them, Kent couldn't have swayed that."

"No," I agreed as I accepted his hand and allowed him to lead up the narrow alleyway our apartment occupied and onto the main street of Chinatown.

"When you're more yourself you should let Kent know you don't blame him," Romero continued as he glanced back at me awkwardly, "er...that is if you don't blame him."

I shook my head even as I wondered at what curious developments had occurred in the relationship between poet and grave guard. "Do you and he still quibble?" I quipped innocently. "He disapproved of us, I think he still does but for different reasons."

Romero shrugged. "Yeah let's not talk about that," he grumbled, "let's just get food and maybe, just maybe we can pretend at having a normal lunch."

I grinned back at him; I liked to pretend, especially at tea parties.

Chinatown was as advertised, a slice of the Oriental in L.A with colourful lanterns, dragon imagery, Chinese lettering mixed with English, and jade and red topped roofs shaped to mimic temple rooftops. It was brimming with life as the old culture mixed with the new and the lanterns competed with neon signs depicting crude cartoon characters, and behind the temple designed restaurants and shops generic towers rose and dominated the landscape.

Even though it was day the lanterns and neon signs were already on though dull against the grey sky. In a couple of hours they might serve a purpose but for now they just appeared tacky and unnecessary and their buzzing and flickering was a distraction.

We bypassed the clichéd but expected Red Dragon restaurant. I paused to peer up at the red beast clinging to the sign possessively and pondered aloud, "could the fabled wish balls be hidden within?"

"I don't know what that means and all I'm gonna say is my wallet is definitely not going to cover that place so keep walking," Romero retorted dryly before he pulled me on.

"No, your wallet would be too small," I mused, "perhaps it could cover the dragon's head. Yes, we could blind it temporarily and I could find the wish balls or perhaps a princess. No, the princess is with the flowers. What then does the dragon guard? Oh, perhaps an ancient find, a sacred treasure from the East with secrets of old upon it."

"I really don't know what you're talking about but I suppose that's not new," Romero murmured, "although you're sounding slightly like Beckett." He gave me a suspicious glance. "Exactly how much of his blood have you had?" he queried curiously.

I giggled and answered coyly, "not enough to know the story of the dinosaurs."

We continued on our way calmly until I spied the noodle place. "The Oriental spaghetti would be a treat," I decided with a grin.

Romero frowned at me and shook his head. "Oriental spaghetti right...well if it's what you want. Although," his frown deepened, "didn't Kent mention something about a sword wielding girl within? Although I do kind of wonder if that might be another one of his fantasies."

"Perhaps just an after school job?" I suggested as I drew the grave guard on. I could smell the noodles cooking within and it was too good to resist. "Come on it's still school time we shall be safe."

I pulled Romero in and we were greeted by a young woman whose attire and youthful face made it tricky to guess at her age. She was Oriental in appearance, almond eyed with pale honey skin and glossy, charcoal chocolate hair bound up in two pigtails. She was seated behind the counter leaning against a radio eyeing us with a tired, bored expression that I knew was feigned. Though she had her eyes squinting so as to appear sleepy I could still see the alertness in her inky pupils.

"Konnichiwa," she greeted wearily, "what do you want?"

My eyes rolled up to the yellowed, stained menu above her with red and black font scribbled out and changed over many times so as to match demand, supply and inflation. "I desire lamb hearts soaked in blood," I murmured as I licked my lips eagerly, "but if not that then noodles."

"Maybe reign back the Gangrel cravings a bit," Romero advised in a low voice in my left ear.

The woman stood up and eyed me with open suspicion now and a hint of disgust.

"One guise in the day another at night," I mused, "play safe with the fishes daughter of the Rising Sun."

"Nani?" she queried sharply.

"Just ignore her," Romero grumbled as he gripped both my shoulders and eased me to the right and out of her eye line before he stepped up to the counter. "She's anaemic," he lied, "and it makes her light headed sometimes."

"Like the mirror mistress she is not what she appears," I cautioned, "no one is." Demon slayer! The voice on the web cried out excitedly. "Are you the Japanese Buffy?" I quipped with intrigue.

In a beautiful jump and tumble the young woman was over the counter and before me with a sword out and at my throat.

"Where were you hiding that?" I queried with interest. It was a katakana, rather long in proportion to its wielder though she did not seem to be struggling with it.

"The dark haired demon asked the same question," she answered hotly. "I know demons and you're not one but you know too much for a human."

"Schoolgirl with a sword," Romero murmured. He was glancing over at me with disapproval but was no more alarmed by the sword than I was. "Missy I don't mean to be rude but you seem to know too much for a human yourself."

She glanced over her shoulder briefly at him and tensed as if finally realising she was surrounded.

"I just want the Oriental spaghetti," I lamented.

"Nani?!" she snapped again. "You are strange."

"I'm good at fishing when I'm fed," I retorted with a grin.

She cocked her head in suspicion before glancing back at Romero again. "Who are you people?" she demanded.

"Who are you?" Romero countered as he folded his arms and leaned back against one of the red leather stools.

"O-gami Yukie desu."

"A demon hunter?" Romero queried.

She nodded. "Hai I am shi, demon hunter."

"Vampires?" he questioned curiously.

She shrugged and shook her head. "They're demons too but I only hunt them if they give me cause."

"Our friend says you chased him out of here with a sword," Romero informed her as he dropped all pretence of normality.

"Anata no tomodachi the dark haired one?" she demanded.

Romero nodded though he seemed uncertain about the Japanese part.

"You here for revenge?" Yukie spat out as she turned her sword in the grave ghoul's direction.

"Am I carrying a freaking sword?" Romero retorted hotly.

"Oh yes let's chop limbs like Gimble and go find Bill!" I enthused with a clap of my hands. This earned the sword straight back against my throat.

"We're not here for revenge," Romero assured in a fed up tone, "and if avenging people was an interest of mine Kent, the dark haired demon, wouldn't be on the list. I imagine he deserved your anger I'm just curious about it that's all. See we're not vampires but as you've sussed, mainly thanks to her," he pointed at me and I glanced about myself in confusion, "we're not exactly normal either and we do know the vampires."

Yukie nodded. "When I took out my sword as a warning he said he could shoot faster than I could strike him."

Romero shook his head with a look of despair. "Well that would be Kent, always trying to keep the peace. Now, can we get those noodles?"

"We could help with the fishing," I enthused.

"The demon, Hengeyokai, he killed my sensei," Yukie murmured, "but how do you know of him?"

"She doesn't," Romero answered before I could.

"He is a fish demon," Yukie explained, "and why I am here."

"You're not here to serve noodles?" I queried with a look of sorrow.

"A cover," Yukie explained, "I work at night to be hidden with the demons of Chinatown but old man who owns this place needed help today."

"And what happens when you get the fishy one?" I asked.

Yuki shrugged again. "I don't know, my parents and sensei are kojin...dead," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "when sensei is avenged I shall keep hunting demons."

"Anyway, about those noodles," Romero interrupted impatiently.

"Alright old man," Yukie grumbled as she finally sheathed her sword, under the back of her tan jacket. "What kind?"

"You know I only look thirty-seven," Romero grumbled,

Yukie turned her head up to him and shook her head. "Iie, I don't think so," she retorted aloofly before walking round the other side of the counter. She turned her attention to the cooker. "So what kind of noodles?"

"Ones with chunks of cow drenched in pig's blood," I answered eagerly.

"Beef or pork ramen, pick ichi," Yuki answered bluntly as she added oil to the wok.

I pouted and made faces at her back. "Chicken with piglet blood?" I suggested hopefully.

"She'll take chicken with chilli sauce," Romero remarked bluntly. "I'll have pork."

Once the noodles were ready and boxed up I blurted out, "we can help with the fish man."

Romero frowned over at me and said sternly, "no we can't."

"She's just a kid," I pouted at him as I gestured out to Yukie, "and she has a cool sword, she could be good company."

"Honto ni?" Yukie quipped as she stared over at me suspiciously. "Company for what?"

"Hunting flesh meddlers," I murmured.

"We're not doing that," Romero grumbled, "and you don't know anything about a fish demon."

"But we could learn," I insisted, "we help her, she helps us."

Yukie shrugged. "Hai, we could make this...trade."

I clapped my hands together in delight. "We can be friends!"

"You don't even have fangs anymore and yet you still cause trouble," Romero lamented as he lifted the noodle boxes.

Yukie folded her arms and frowned over at both of us. "You really want to help?"

"Yes!" I enthused.

"What's your name?" Yukie demanded.

I tensed and cocked my head slightly as I pondered over this. First Sarah, then Ariade, then whore, bitch, dirt and every other insult the old master wished to lay upon me. Ariadne still to the spider and the Baron, Malkavian, kid, nutcase to the poet, crazy cat and kitten to the grave guardian, Sarah to the brother and to the wolf master I was young one. Well master was master but was young one my name or a nickname? Was it is his only name for me?

"Sarah," Romero answered for me, "and I'm Romero."

"Strange name," Yukie murmured.

"In this scenario I'm definitely not the strange one," Romero retorted defensively. "Anyway look, if we find out anything about the fish demon we'll come back to you, alright?"

I frowned at him again and intended to make offers to Yukie to come with us now but Romero turned me around and pushed me to the door before I could.

"I'll find the fish!" I vowed loudly as we exited to a busy street. I earned a few odd looks for my outburst before the people continued about their business.

"Can't you just leave it?" Romero complained as he jostled me down the path and across a road to a small park area. "You're human now; fighting demons isn't easy when you're human."

"You fight them," I reminded him.

We sat on a jade green bench beneath pink blossomed trees overlooking a small pond with lotus blossoms, lily pads, ducks and swans. It was a quaint and oddly peaceful section of the busy Asian section of LA and a welcome contrast to the heavy afternoon traffic and bustling office buildings.

"Jamie Sue does the hard work, and I don't go looking for them," Romero retorted as he handed me my noodles.

"I didn't go looking," I argued, "I was seeking noodles." I opened the box and smiled down at them in delight.

"Let's just try and keep a low profile crazy cat, please? You've only been a ghoul for three days now and this is the first you've come outside, if Isaac thinks you're getting caught up with..."

"Something fishy?" I suggested with a grin.

Romero frowned down at me pointedly and shook his head. "Something dangerous," he corrected, "then he's going to forbid you trips around Chinatown without his supervision."

I sighed. "Locked in the tower to grow my fur."

"Don't you mean hair?" Romero corrected.

I watched as he fidgeted with his chopsticks before he began spearing at the noodles with them. "I feel itchy behind my ears," I explained as I sucked up a noodle, "I think it's fur."

"I think you've had more Gangrel blood than you or the bookworm wants to let on. You want to take care with that, you already know how the blood can cloud you and bind you to the vampire that's giving it to you."

"Blood is healing, blood is life, master wolf keeps this one going."

"Master wolf? Shit, Isaac's not going to like that. It's a wonder he hasn't staked him already, not that staking destroys you guys. Seriously though, take care crazy cat, I know I said I wanted you to keep going, and I do but I don't want you becoming some vampire's puppet."

"You are not the Baron's Pinocchio," I pointed out.

"No but I am his servant and for all that he's granted me so long as I drink his blood that's the way it's gonna be. That's what a Ghoul is kitten, a servant, so just keep that in mind, and don't get tricked into thinking it's anything more. When you're healed and don't need the blood anymore, don't take it. Easier said than done, I know, but you've gotta fight the addiction when you can. You need to be free, after everything you've been through you deserve it."

I nodded and gave the zombie shooter a fleeting smile before I resumed devouring my noodles.