"Kid?"

The voice was familiar but fuzzy and faint. Everything was spinning, I was lost in darkness and all I could feel was a blinding hot pain. I glimpsed something to the left, there in the distance was the faint grey silhouettes of four ancient sarcophagi. I felt the dangerous power calling from them, in slumber for now but not forever. I did not want to go any closer to it.

"Kid!"

I reached for that voice desperately and tried to call back to it but when my mouth opened to yell only silence came out. I was falling closer to the slumbering ancients and I could feel their terrible hunger, they would devour this poor morsel blood, body and bones.

I saw red, glorious, damp, warm and nourishing red. I tasted it, the hot, humming blood of vampire and beast, the soothing odour of master pulling me back from the darkness and tugging me up along the blood link that bound us to one another.

"The more blood you give her the harder it will be to wean her off," the deadpan warning of the graveyard ghoul. I could smell the dirt of the graves on him, a dusty odour of the dead that always clung to him.

"She is bleeding internally in her brain, would you rather I left her to that fate?" master wolf queried coolly.

"No...I'm just sayin'."

I opened my eyes wearily, everything tingled now, a warm numbness neither pleasant nor horrid.

Three pale fingers were thrust into my vision. "How many fingers am I holding up kid?" Kent, my Toreador brother though he would never admit to it. His voice sounded desperate, anxious even. Since he, Beckett and Romero, my odd trinity of saviours, had rescued me from the Tzimisce he had shown a lot more worry for me than before. Was it because I was mortal now? Was it guilt? I recalled Romero telling me to advise Kent if I forgave him or not for scaring me off into Santa Monica, running straight into the hands of a daddy who didn't understand.

I grasped at one finger. "This little piggy went to market," I said before grabbing the second, "this little piggy stayed at home and," I grabbed the third, "this little piggy had roast beef." I paused and sighed. "No more piggies."

"Three kid," Kent grumbled as he frowned down at me, "just say three."

I grinned up at him happily, my eyes darting from him to Romero and to Beckett. "I had the strangest dream and you weren't there," I said to Kent before I looked to Romero, "and you weren't there either," and then I looked to Beckett, "and you weren't there either and it was very dull until the Aralu tried to feed on me."

Beckett looked at me with a burning curiosity as Kent helped me into a sitting position. "You keep mentioning them, why?" Beckett queried calmly.

"I keep seeing them," I murmured, "the mad master wants to feed them, maybe they can put him back on the web or free him from it entirely."

"Who are they?" Kent pried.

"Supposedly they are four ancients who sleep beneath Enoch in the Tempest," Beckett explained.

"You say those words like we're meant to understand," Romero complained, "you're always doing that."

"The first city, the ghost city," I replied.

Kent sighed. "You're meant to be a Gangrel ghoul now," he scolded me, "stop with the crazy."

I grinned back at him wolfishly. "I'm hungry can I have a bloody steak?"

"And there's the Gangrel," Kent answered sardonically.

I glanced about our surroundings at last, we were in a small sitting area, a room in Isaac's bode rarely visited by myself. As such it was dim and dull, decorated with boring fusty paintings of dead women and men. "Where are Isaac and Ash?" I pondered.

"Still having a discussion in the living room," Kent replied tactfully.

Romero let out a grunt at this. "Discussion my ass, that melodramatic dickhead could have killed her with that punch."

"Big word for you," Kent mocked him.

Romero gave him a biting grin. "I'm learning."

"Ash just isn't used to Ariadne being a mortal," Kent reminded him.

"Don't defend him," Romero retorted heatedly with a shake of his head.

"I'm not, I think he's a dickhead too but he is still part of our fucked up family here, you know as well as anyone Isaac loves him like a son, that complicates things."

Romero sighed. "I know," he muttered.

"Anyway," Kent said as he turned his attention back to me and pulled me to my feet, "you said you're hungry, let's go out for dinner. Of course you'll need to change first, I'm not taking you anywhere like this."

"You're taking me for dinner?" I squealed as I clapped my hands in delight. "Oh can I have profiteroles?"

"Dinner first," Kent scorned. "If you promise to attempt normality we can go somewhere nice. First though, you need to scrub up, come on, Isaac has a room for you upstairs." He pulled me along without waiting for a word from Romero or Isaac, guiding me down a corridor and up the stairs into a large bedroom where many of my former belongings had been moved.

Kent left me to get reacquainted with my beloved trinkets and treasures though he warned me he would give me only an hour and advised that there was an en-suite bathroom to use. I was disappointed to see that my wardrobe was not how I remembered and suspected that Isaac had pushed my cosplay costumes back into the snows of Narnia.

I took only a little over an hour to get ready, well perhaps two hours but I did my best to look extra spiffy. It was difficult as it invoked a rush of memories for me, sitting before a smeared ovular mirror in a college dorm trying not to burn my hair with curling tongs whilst Samantha swapped top after top and asked if I was trying to look pretty for Phil or Chase. It hurt to think of them but there weren't enough voices to distract me from the past anymore and I struggled to push the memories away.

I exited the bedroom and met Kent at last. He looked at me with careful scrutiny, equal parts impressed and annoyed. "Isaac got you some decent clothes, good," he said approvingly, "but where the fuck did the wings come from?"

To go with my designer outfit, which consisted of a gold sequinned mini skirt with a black, silk vest top, black high heels with gold butterflies resting on the toes, gold bracelets and a gold chain necklace, and a black suede jacket, I had also put on a pair of black, satin bat wings with gold lights along the edges powered by batteries with three settings- off, stationary or flashing. "I got them last Halloween," I said chirpily.

Kent pressed two pale fingers to his brow as he considered ordering me to take them off. Knowing I wouldn't have put them on just to take them off, he murmured a curse, dropped his hand by his side and gave me a warning look. "Alright, I can make them pass for quirky, models are often seen wearing fake tails and feathers, it could work," he sighed, "course it means using Presence for most of the evening and I had hoped for a nice, relaxing dinner."

"Are Romero and Beckett coming?" I queried curiously.

Kent's lip rose in a sneer. "Could you imagine either of them sitting a five star restaurant? Not a chance! They wouldn't even get through the door, no tact either of them, Beckett's eyes glow for Christ's sake and Romero can't tone the psychopath for three fucking seconds." Seeing my sad gaze he frowned and grumbled, "I did ask alright, they both said no. Now come on, I've got reservations."

Kent escorted me from Isaac's abode and into a car that looked a little better than the average yellow taxi. We sped up the streets of Hollywood to the side of the glamour and the rich where drug addicts were born but forbidden to die. The hobos lingered in the sewers out of sight with the Nosferatu and the forgotten creatures of the Tzimisce, and anyone that resembled riff-raff found themselves removed with minimal protest.

We entered a restaurant called The Silver Moon Temple, which had a queue all the way down the pavement. The maître d blinked hard at my wings before Kent used his presence to him charm him into thinking they were an amusing delight and so quirky.

The restaurant had a temple theme going on, making me think of Secret of the Incas, a fond favourite of Isaac's and Tomb Raider, a game I had enjoyed when I was younger until I had caught Rob masturbating to a magazine cover with a woman on it dressed as Lara Croft whilst murmuring over and over again, "yeah Lara you found my family jewels."

There was a fountain gushing down a wall into a crescent shaped pool made of fake stone with a crescent moon glowing in the tiles below decorated with glittering coins. I looked at Kent hopefully and tugged on his sleeve. "For luck Kent please, the moon is so beautiful tonight."

Kent frowned but complied, handing over a quarter with reluctance.

I hugged the coin close in both hands, shut my eyes and threw it in whilst wishing for there to be sparklers with my food.

I was pulled on by Kent after our waiter to our table. Kent realised quickly that he had to escort me as I tried to stop and stare at every attraction. In true Hollywood style the restaurant was a show, there were robot gorillas dancing in fake trees behind some tables and robot leopards above us on fake vines, pawing and snarling at intervals. Just like its home in the land of the stars everything in this restaurant was beautiful and fake. We bypassed a collection of tables that were ringed round a towering pile of gold coins and jewels but to my dismay we continued on.

Our table was outside beside two round koi ponds linked by a miniature waterfall with two potted palm trees and fake torches in tall, bronze holders. I marvelled at the false flames briefly before looking to the palm trees. "No coconuts," I said with dismay.

"Nope," Kent murmured carelessly as he took a seat.

After Kent insisted that I couldn't have ice-cream instead of gravy with steak I eventually gave up on my cravings for steak and settled for sweet chilli chicken strips with noodles and garlic bread. Kent ordered a rare steak to be served on its own and a bottle of red wine. With little effort of presence of his part he had the waiter smiling at his order instead of questioning it.

"Kent can I see the fishies?" I queried hopefully as we waited for our food.

"After dinner," he retorted coolly.

He was dressed in a navy Armani suit with a crisp white shirt, grey tie and grey handkerchief. He looked handsome as he always did and was garnering many lustful looks from the skinny women around us who mourned over their salads whilst looking hungrily at other people's meals before devouring their wine with desperation.

"I don't blame you," I said softly with a smile.

He looked at me keenly, his vampire hearing picking up on my words above the background chatter and music with ease. "For what?" he queried nonchalantly.

"For what happened to me, for my running away from you and Romero to my father who left me in asylum for the Tzimisce to find."

"Right, that," Kent grumbled as he frowned back at me.

"Romero said you hadn't forgiven yourself for that," I informed him, "but there is nothing to forgive."

"Oh he did, did he?" Kent snapped childishly. "So he can talk with you about some private matters then," he added sullenly.

I cocked my head in puzzlement before realising Kent was alluding to bedroom olympics with the grave ghoul. "I don't mind that either," I assured.

"Oh well as long as you don't mind," he sneered.

I looked at him in surprise before frowning, I had not meant to upset him and now I was upset for doing it. "Don't be mad Kent or guilty, please, I don't want you to feel that way and I don't mean to do it. Should I go away again?" I suggested. "Maybe to Downtown with Rob? I didn't mean to go away to begin with or to come back." I clenched my hands together on the table and stared down at them. "I'm making a mess being here, I shouldn't exist like this and it upsets things. It's all out of balance like Christmas in July or mismatched socks on geese."

I flinched feeling Kent's icy hand upon my pair, he gripped them both gently compelling me to look up at him. "Kid I am never ever going to admit this out loud in the presence of anyone else but God damn it's dull without you and I missed you. Yeah, I did feel guilty for chasing you away, I was there to make you a Toreador but that wasn't right and you got scared and you ran because of me, I fucked up and that's on me but I'm glad you're not mad about it. I'm glad you don't mind about Romero either but that's...well that's something else, it's not gonna happen again," he added flatly.

"Why?" I queried curiously.

"He is in love with you, completely and utterly, it's intense, probably because of Isaac's feelings to you, not that I'm saying Romero's feelings aren't his own, they are, I just think his blood bond with Isaac intensifies them because Isaac loves you too. Romero would let go for Isaac but the thing is Isaac can never fully be with you, can he? Because Ash and V.V don't like you so he will never be completely devoted to you. Sure you're back in his coffin, weird by the way, you're living kid you shouldn't sleep with the dead, and Hell I suspect you and him well er..." Kent looked awkward for a moment. "I mean you do, don't you? It's just, it's not the same for vampires as you know and I've always suspected Isaac maybe just let go off that um...urge."

"We have sex," I answered happily, "Isaac's a vigorous lover but not kinky," I added with dismay, "no spanking, just doggy style and missionary, sometimes up against the wall."

"Jesus Christ!" Kent exclaimed before he could help it as his face twisted into an expression of horror and both his dark eyebrows rose. "Alright, I get it," he added hastily, "fuck sorry I mentioned it. It's just my point is you and Isaac go so far with your relationship but it'll never quite be completely realised because Ash and V.V hold him back, he loves them and being with you is a betrayal to them."

Kent fell silent with a look of relief as our food arrived. Just as we lifted our cutlery to begin Kent looked past me and groaned out, "fuck."

Instantly curious I looked behind me. There was a tall, gangly blonde male coming our way. He stood out like a sore thumb in scruffy, faded jeans with holes at the knees, a worn t-shirt a former turquoise with peeling white font on it reading 'NOT TODAY SATAN', and a pair of dirty trainers. His hair hung past his shoulders untidily, it was a greasy golden blonde, his skin was pale and smudged with dirt and his eyes were dark and shining like obsidian. He had an air of madness about him and I knew instantly that he was a vampire.

He stopped at our table and looked down at me with a piercing dark gaze. "A wolf cub whimpering in the night, odd creature the whispers say living, dead and living again, strange with an unclear purpose but still God's creature."

"Like the platypus," I said happily with a grin, "ninja spurred duck beaver!"

"Oh Christ you're a Malkavian," Kent complained.

The blonde turned upon Kent fiercely. "Do not take the Lord's name in vain, He is all powerful even in these trouble times and may send you to hell early."

Kent looked up at him with an irked gaze. "Great, a doomsday Malkavian, double the crazy." He started smacking his brow up and down on the table chanting, "why, why, why," with every smack.

"Try X or W and do not abuse Y so," I advised.

Kent sat upright as his grey gaze darted from me to the blonde before he became aware of the external audience we had gained. The security staff were heading our way looking pointedly at the blonde. "What do you want madman?" Kent queried bluntly.

"The archaeologist she calls master," he answered as he gestured to me, "and the path to the ancient four in torpor who even in their sleep think to play Jyhad."

"Beckett," Kent muttered, "figures you know him. All I wanted was one peaceful meal but nope, never happens. He stood up and glanced from me to the blonde. "Alright lunatic-dee and lunatic-dum, let's get going." He pointed at the blonde accusingly. "You'll be lucky if I get us out of here in one piece."

"If the blood is shed for a noble cause it is justifiable," the Malkavian answered.

Kent rolled his eyes in despair before he turned to deal with the approaching staff. I seized my chance to bolt over to the koi ponds, certain I wouldn't get another chance. I crouched down at the edge and peered over. I briefly glimpsed shimmering white and orange scales before the grinning face of my undead Tzimisce master leered up at me. I jerked back with a shriek. "The flesh moulder!"

Kent's hands seized me tightly about the shoulders and jerked me to my feet. "What are you at now?" he demanded sharply in my left ear. "Let's just leave quietly," he pleaded.

"He's there, master, no ex-master, made the flesh burn in and out," I babbled.

"Looking up from hell," the blonde remarked astutely as Kent turned me round and started marching me forward.

"Sure because the gateway to hell is in a fish pond," Kent grumbled. "I hate Malkavians I really do, you are the second worst clan out there, batshit crazy assholes."

We had to pause for Kent to generously tip the maître d before we exited to the cool night air of Hollywood. "Well that's my membership gone," Kent complained.

"Gluttony is a sin," the blonde commented scornfully.

"Oh yeah because I go there for the food," Kent answered sardonically.

"Showing wealth is prideful, also a sin," the blonde replied sharply.

Kent shook his head. "Try again nutcase."

"Oh! Oh!" I chirped up as I shook off Kent's grasp and bounced up at him eagerly with a wave of my hand. "Is it lust? It's lust isn't it?"

Kent sighed and planted a palm against his face as some beautiful women waiting to get into the restaurant started to laugh.

"What do I win? A cookie? I'm still hungry," I pouted.

Kent lowered his palm and scowled down at me before gesturing to the blonde angrily with his hand. "Kid it ain't my fault the mad prophet here interrupted our food." He glared over at said prophet. "I'm sure the madness could've waited until after dinner."

"I followed the strands of the broken web to her," the Malkavian remarked sombrely, "a song of the manipulative Methuselahs confirmed I was following the right trail."

Kent crossed his arms and looked to me accusingly.

I shrugged. "I'm off the web," I reminded him, "only mortal now with a fluffy snarling side." I let out a low bark.

"Alright here's what we are going to do, find Beckett. Course I don't even know where to start with that one argh, shit, we're going to my apartment then." Kent frowned at the blonde. "Madman what name do the voices give you?"

"My name is Anatole," he answered stiffly, "harbringer of Gehenna, voice of-"

"Yeah, yeah," Kent cut him off, "I didn't ask for your resume. I will let you come to my apartment on two conditions, one- you take off your shoes because they're filthy and two- you do not harm my ghoul."

Anatole looked offended at both suggestions. "You will help me find Beckett?"

"I will gladly offload you on Beckett at the first available opportunity," Kent assured him.

"Then it is a deal."

It took forty minutes before we were in Kent's impressive abode and Kent had assured his ghoul Heather Poe that Anatole would not harm her. Heather, now used to the dark world, merely shrugged her shoulders at Anatole before settling herself back on the Italian, brown leather sofa. Heather was a beautiful, young, former college student, she was tall and slender, pale even for a human with a long, dark auburn bob with a short fringe and bangs, and a pair of rectangular, black framed glasses. Her frame was thin and she lacked curves as V.V often pointed out scornfully, mocking Kent for picking a stick figure over a real woman for a ghoul. Heather had been turned almost on a whim, when in Santa Monica Clinic Kent had found her dying after a traumatic car accident, having lost his previous ghoul Patty to my fangs (on orders from Helter Skelter I might add) he had been compelled to make another servant of Heather.

I sat on the single couch, tugged my knees up to my chest and peered over them at Heather curiously, ghoul to ghoul.

Heather looked over at me calmly. Once she had been nervous around me, fearful of my fangs and mad quips. I missed the intimidation that came with having fangs and vampire powers.

"Kent says you're a ghoul now," she remarked bluntly, "how do you find it?"

"The blood snacks banish the pain," I mused, "and the wolf dances most joyfully through me."

"Yeah Heather she's still crazy, turns out it wasn't the Malkavian curse, she's just fucking mad," Kent remarked brightly. He moved to the kitchen, tugging his phone out of his pocket as he did.

"Order Chinese Kent I'm starving," I called pleadingly.

Heather continued to look at me curiously like I was something exotic. "You must be the only one of your kind." She paused and glanced at Anatole with uncertainty, realising she was about to blurt out something not a lot of people knew about. "Anyway, you get used to being a ghoul you know, it has its perks."

Given the nice quarters Heather dwelled in, the Chanel clothes she was wearing and the designer perfume that wafted off her I could understand her point. I could not see Beckett keeping me in such finery however but could not bring myself to burst Heather's bubble of all ghouls being lavished and spoilt. "You and Romero are very different for Toreador ghouls," I remarked.

Heather stiffened and her eyebrows rose slightly as she pulled an expression of displeasure. "That filthy man is different full stop, even as a normal human he was probably a freak."

"No, he was a man too loyal to his friends," I murmured quietly. "Anyway," I added cheerfully with a wide smile, "you aren't so different, you both get along with Kent marvellously."

Heather's pale green eyes filled with revulsion. "So they told you, I didn't think they would."

"Told me what?" I queried innocently.

She looked suspicious and glanced back to the open doorway Kent had slipped through to the kitchen and then to Anatole. The Malkavian lingered away from us by the front door murmuring either to himself or to the voices. Heather leaned across the couch slightly and murmured in a quiet, conspirational voice, "I caught them together. I'd do anything and everything for my master, he's so beautiful and charming, I can't understand how he let that creep sully him."

"Maybe Kent just likes a man who can handle his way around a long shaft, you know like a shotgun," I suggested.

"Is that a metaphor?" Heather queried with another look of disgust as she sat upright again.

Kent eventually returned to us and looked Anatole's way with displeasure. "I have someone looking for Beckett."

"Are they getting Chinese too?" I queried.

Kent looked at me in annoyance. "Yes Ariadne."

"But you didn't ask what I wanted!" I protested.

"You get the same thing every time and the only reason you even ask for Chinese is for the fortune cookie," he scolded me.

"I like to know if the voices are right or not," I explained. "Yukie didn't give me any fortune cookies," I added moodily. "Where is the Japanese Buffy?"

Kent shrugged. "Down the street in a cheap apartment, she thinks it's safer than mine," he added with a miffed look, "you could kick the doors in there no problem."

"I like her," I said sincerely, "I hope we can hang out soon."

"And do what, go fishing?" Kent queried tauntingly.

"Oh yes! Maybe I could catch a goldfish for a pet or another duck." I sighed. "I miss Lord Quacky."

Kent looked appropriately guilty at this. "No pets kid, you're not good with them, remember?"

We waited for a further thirty minutes before the food and master wolf arrived. I sensed my master before the door opened, feeling his presence brush against me lightly, fond and consoling, the master was here, I was safe. When the door opened I bowled past Anatole and Beckett to seek out the food. It came in two plastic bags in Romero's hands. "I'm starving!" I cried out as I grasped at one.

"I can tell," Romero answered dryly, "but you're not going to eat it in the hall kitten."

I tensed feeling a cold shock rush through me without warning and turned in alarm, fearful that Beckett was in trouble. The Gangrel was stiff in the doorway, almost a statue as he looked in at the mad blonde. I realised the surprise I was feeling was Beckett's, our blood bond had grown stronger then, now I could feel what he did as he felt what I did. "Master?" I quipped quietly as I abandoned the food to stand closer to Beckett. I reached to his gloved right hand and he tensed further at my touch before he finally moved as if coming out of a trance.

"It's been a while Anatole," he greeted in a cool, quiet voice.

"Time matters little to an immortal," Anatole murmured, "until the end draws near and time suddenly runs out."

"Here we go with the doom and gloom again," Kent complained.

"Gehenna is at hand!" Anatole snapped dramatically. "Your ghoul knows it, she sees four ancients sleeping, she hears them, she is drawn to them and knows they will awake and what happens when the antediluvians awaken? They thirst! Such a long, deep thirst and such powerful creatures, what do you think will satisfy them? The blood of Kindred, Kine's blood will be too weak!"

"You know this food is getting cold," Romero remarked calmly.

My stomach let out a deep growl.

Beckett turned his attention to me. "Ariadne you look drawn, when did you last eat?"

"This morning, pancakes."

Beckett sighed. "It's difficult to remember the needs of Kine sometimes. Anatole step back, let us in to Kent's home and we can discuss this while my ghoul feeds."

"Yes and why is she your ghoul? You do not like the human servants," Anatole murmured.

"It's a long story."

"I was dying from the dead craft master's abuse and the Toreadors were too dramatic to share blood to save me," I explained, "so Beckett did the deed because I spoke of Aralu."

"Apparently the story can be told in a single sentence," Beckett said in his usual deadpan manner.

Anatole stepped back at last and we entered. I clapped my hands jovially as the scent of Chinese teased me. "It means master wolf can tell me tales of dinosaurs," I enthused as I chased after Romero to the kitchen.

I watched as Romero found his way around the kitchen with ease. He paused and looked at me curiously as he pulled a tin of beer out of the fridge. "What are you looking at kitten?" he queried.

"You're familiar around here," I murmured, "and Kent doesn't drink beer and Heather prefers wine."

Romero looked at the accusing tin in his hand and sighed. "I was pretty upset losing you and Kent beat himself up a lot over it, sometimes we just sat and watched t.v here you know. It gets lonely in that shack, not just in that way, it's nice to have a friend to talk too. I like Isaac and all but I don't share his interests in black and white films, not that I'm into Kent's poetry either but at least he can listen to poetry at a bar so it means I can have a drink and socialise while he listens to some idiot prattle on in verse about the fifty shades of black a town can be and it's all some stupid ass metaphor about his abusive uncle or some shit."

I twitched at those words. "Sandcastles keep him away, always choose the best seashells, if it's not good enough he hurts."

"What are you talking about now?" Romero queried wearily.

I shook my head and smiled before reaching for a bowl of chicken fried noodles. "Nothing, let's go see if Anatole is madder than me."

Oh goodness me I had this almost all ready to go and then my computer crashed and the whole file was corrupted and despite hours of trying to undo the damage I couldn't. So I had to rewrite the whole thing, hence the delay. Anyway, hope you all like it. Hurray for Anatole, an inspired suggestion but a wonderful fan, you know who you are. I hope I'm getting him right, I'm not really sure since I'm going on what the wiki says but I haven't read any of the books or anything.

If you don't know who Anatole is, because I didn't, go on the White Wolf wiki, he's a religious fanatic who got turned into a Malkavian and acts as a herald of Gehenna. He also travelled with Beckett and a Lasombra Lucita. Lucita is also a Sabbat so I don't really get that.