A girl. A girl with long brunette locks and green eyes looking confused and scared, staring at me for answers. I did have answers but not for her. At least I did not think so... A club, yes in a club, lots of loud, distracting music, Samantha dancing with the girl... Then him, the redhead, I couldn't quite see, there in the club staring at the girl, staring at me but I couldn't make him out.

"We've already got the hunters breathing down our necks without her pulling some stunt like that!"

Ah the phoenix's beautiful whining voice.

"It wasn't her fault she frenzied," that was Alex, almost sympathetic and a little mocking if I wasn't mistaken. Hmm, frenzied, what a fun word, had I really done it? Yes, I thought so, I remembered the woman in the street, well she had been in rude in the Asp Hole and the streets had seemed awfully dull, who could blame me for wanting to brighten them up a little with a splash of red here and there?

"It was her fault," Ash snarled, "it's always the fault of the vampire."

"According to whom?" Alex was going fishing, tying a nice little golden Oscar to a rod and waving it in front of darling Ash's face waiting for him to take the bait. I had never been fishing; I preferred other kinds of hunting.

"Everyone," Ash snapped, not willing to mention the men in masks. Hmm, Isaac must be nearby then, it would explain firespawn's restraint.

I opened my eyes at last, banishing Sarah from at least one of my minds and welcoming Isaac's domain into my vision. Isaac was standing in front, a few feet away, looking at me with some displeasure. "Did you not like my redecorating?" I queried calmly.

"Redecorating?" Ash spat out from somewhere at my feet. "You need staked," he snarled, "staked and beheaded. If the Camarilla finds out how brazen you are-"

"Enough Ash," Isaac interrupted calmly but firmly. "Those control freaks Downtown won't be finding out anything."

Freaks? I liked freaks, in fact at times I loved them, perhaps because they seemed to love me too at times, at least when they didn't have sharp, pointy things to stab me with, then the love was lost. I missed Downtown, those darling rebels who always seemed to shout at me and fondly called me playful names like bitch, Cammy whore, slave and LaCroix's dog, it was a fun game we played, I went in singing LaCroix's praises and they tried to see how many names they could call me in five minutes. Once I covered the front of their club with posters saying 'Vote LaCroix' as part of the game, and they responded by setting a truck on fire outside the Ventrue Tower. See all in fun! I had to wonder if they missed me too.

"Poor lost Ariadne," Alex purred from behind my head, "even your own mind is a maze."

I laid my head down and rolled my eyes back to see him, he looked well upside down. The world would be a more interesting place if half the people moved about upside down, and we all had shoes made out of cheese and gophers for pets. Yes, cheese shoes, nice and soft on the feet but edible too, a perfect combination.

"Are you seriously going to use her madness as an excuse for this shit?" Ash demanded.

I sat up and grinned at him. "Naughty, naughty, no bad language at play time!" I scolded him.

"Play time?" He gave me that special look of disgust he reserved just for me. "You might be completely crazy but that doesn't excuse your lack of discipline! Your careless actions are going to get us all in trouble."

"I thought you wanted a dramatic death," I commented sincerely.

"What?" Isaac spoke up in surprise.

Ash glowered at me before folding his arms and glowering at Isaac, meeting his curious, golden gaze unflinchingly. "Don't be concerned," he said sardonically, "you have done enough to me without interfering further."

"Ash," Isaac looked hurt, it was strange seeing the rough, tough media mogul wear such an expression, it showed a weakness in him, a vulnerability one might exploit. Did people really wear expressions? Could one have a wardrobe of them and pick them out at random, holding them up to match shoes and ties? I wanted a wardrobe of expressions or at least a drawer!

"You took it all away from me," Ash snapped at him angrily, "did it not occur to you that maybe I would have preferred death to this humiliating half-life? Did you not think that maybe I would rather be mourned by my fans than laughed at?"

"Because they wouldn't have laughed at you overdosing in your twenties and ending your career at its height for some heroin," Alex commented dryly.

Ash spared him a glower of hate. When Ash showed emotion he did it well, I wondered if it was all part of his actor's skills or if inside he was still a stroppy teenager who could do some Oscar winning performances to guilt daddy Isaac into an allowance, either way it was good acting.

"I didn't want to see you gone before your time," Isaac said softly showing some of that infamous Toreador emotion.

"Well you did, we both got front row seats for that thanks to you," Ash snapped back sardonically.

"Oh did you have popcorn?" I asked curiously as I sat up to look at them both properly.

Ash spared me another one of 'those looks' but words seemed to fail him and he turned back to Isaac. Obviously the dead phoenix needed to eat some more dictionaries, the pages go quite well soaked in blood you know, although the last pages I ate just gave me a sore stomach.

Isaac sighed. "I shouldn't have had that movie with you in it, it was too much, it changed you."

"For the better!" Ash snapped. "But you couldn't handle that, couldn't handle that I was a somebody, that I had other people than you to talk to!"

"Was a somebody? Are you nobody now?" I queried as I gave him a puzzled look.

"I may as well be!" he snapped as he threw his hands up in the air dramatically. He dropped them and then gave his own sigh. It's silly hearing vampires sigh, after all we don't breathe but the Toreadors cling to humans and their humanity so much that they still express human gestures that like that, often without realising it, then you have the Ventrue who just do it to be patronising dicks.

Ah my Ventrue prince, did he miss me? I had promised to bring him back a crown; yes I remembered that, he had laughed at that, but he had not laughed when I had given him a purple paper one. There had been scorns over certain lax killings but he had still seemed impressed with me, I was useful to him, my mind had an insight he craved though he would never admit it. I knew things others could not, perhaps because with extra minds I had extra storage space too.

"Forget it," he said gloomily, reverting back into the emo, monotone Ash we had all come to love and mock, or maybe just mock. Yes, the tuxedo wearing cigarette spawn was so easy to tease. I wondered if beneath that handsome, blank face of his there was someone smiling, probably it was just another asshole with a scowl.

"Ash I did not wish to damn you," Isaac protested, "I just could not see such talent wasted, I acted on impulse, I thought without the acting you would be the Ash I had known before Negative Zero, the talented, ambitious man, not the money obsessed drug addict."

Ash spared him another cold look. "I was the most talented actor on the street, I would have died famous, now I'm nothing, Negative Zero is forgotten, and Ash Rivers is a washout club owner but that's the way it is, and I no longer care."

"Clearly," Alex taunted dryly.

Ash turned for the door, pausing when he reached it, probably for dramatic effect, guy just couldn't let the prickly woods go. "The Malkavian needs to go," he said firmly. I looked around the room in puzzlement trying to spy this Malkavian he mentioned. "She is a liability Isaac and she will ruin us all, including you." He opened the door and left, I wondered if it was wrong to hope that he might slip on a banana peel and land front side on a stake. Was that even possible? Poor dead phoenix.

Isaac frowned at the door before turning what I thought might be a look of disapproval on me. Disapproval? What had I done? I gave him my best smile of innocence and for some reason that seemed to make him angrier. I wondered if another aspect of being Toreador was mood swings. Did these moods of ours enjoy riding on swings, it sounded like it should be fun so why did some of them jump off the swing angry or sad? Did another mood push them, was it anxious or eagerness? I grinned; I liked the idea of a play park for my moods. I considered that concern and guilt must be too occupied with the roundabout to be bothered with reacting to Isaac's look.

"You should feed more regularly," Isaac scorned, "attacking people in public draws too much attention to us and with hunters around we really cannot afford that. As for frenzying, that's dangerous too, the more you frenzy the closer you get to your animal side and being like those crazy Gangrel in the Sabbat."

"Sorry," I said, thinking it sounded like the appropriate response. I remembered the frenzying, the loss of control, the anger, the overpowering hunger, the wild, hurried attack and all that delicious blood. I had enjoyed it in a fashion, that brutal side was entertaining and strong and I did not mind the lack of control, after all even when I did not frenzy there was always some other personality trying to take over.

"When you thirst you quench it in private," Isaac instructed, "down an alleyway is fine so long as there are no witnesses and you should keep it clean and make it quick, if you are wild and messy like that there will be a chance for your victim to scream and worse, you will leave evidence."

I nodded, feigning the attentive student, wishing for a graduate hat to wear to suit the setting and because I liked those pointy hats, their tassels looked like fun to play with. The thirst was still there, a dry patch lingering at the back of my throat, an itch, subtle now but soon to be an annoyance, a growth that would not stop. I had spilled too much of the woman's blood, I should have drank more of it. Sarah wanted to come back, she wanted answers, she wanted to torment me.

Isaac shook his head. "Right," he said calmly, "now that, that has been sorted and I can trust no more slipups, what did you learn from David Hatter?"

Eyes boring into me, green eyes, blue eyes? Sarah's eyes? The thirst was growing, it was an ache now, a deep desire, a longing greater than a human's ache for sex or growl for food, I needed nutrition, I needed life to stave off death, I needed that carmine elixir. Oh what beautiful monsters we were, taking life to extend our deaths, what a rich irony.

"Isaac," Alex purred from behind me, "she's thirsting again, can you not feel it? She did not drink enough when she frenzied."

Isaac frowned again and his gold eyes studied me hard. I wondered if he had melted sovereigns and painted his irises with them to get that colour. "I feel it," he admitted. "Go and feed then Ariadne, but do not frenzy."

I reached for him, grasping his right arm in both my hands, lowering my left hand to fit into his larger calloused hand. "Come with me," I begged, "come on, I'll show you where the dwarves hide, and we could play hopscotch and throw eggs at Ash's place!"

Alex chuckled whilst Isaac looked like he was trying to decide if I was joking or not. I was not, the dwarves lived at the front of the graveyard behind a large building, scuttling around the hobos wanting to steal their toes and I thought given that he was long limbed that Isaac might be good at hopscotch, and of course vandalising Ash's place was always fun.

"I'll take her," Alex offered.

"No fair," I protested as I looked up at Isaac, "I want you to come, you're good at throwing, you will be able to hit the windows on the second floor of the Asp Hole."

Alex's hands slid over my shoulders and he tugged me gently from Isaac. "I don't think Isaac wants to upset Ash, Ariadne," he said softly in my ear. "Come now, before the thirst grows dangerous again, you can't frenzy."

The thirst, the mention of it sending a burning, dizzying desire for blood through me. My vision went red and I let out a feral growl, I needed to quench that burning now, I needed to taste death in my fangs, to feel life drain under my hands.

"Come," Alex whispered as he guided me from Isaac's domain and back out into the night of the starry streets. So many stars lingering in the clubs and bars but not a planet or moon among them, how disappointing.

Alex worked quickly, he used his charm to lure an experimental patron of Vesuvius and her shy companion outside and down behind the large, towering mausoleum that stood in front of the graveyard entrance. I wondered only briefly if Velvet would be annoyed to find out that Alex had taken two her customers away, before I sank my fangs into the shy blonde. I drank and drank, ever thirsty for more of her sweet, hot blood until Alex started to pull me off.

"You can't kill," he murmured in my ear as he pulled my face from her neck and eased me back. At first I struggled, lashing out at him with my arms and legs as I keened like an animal for more of the delicious life giving liquid but then the red flashes before my eyes mixed with images of Sarah began to fade and I went still. "The more you kill the closer you become to being like them," Alex muttered, "monstrous Sabbat, without humanity, it's an ugly thing. Humanity is so beautiful you know, so fragile." He held me against him but I realised his eyes were on our entranced victims. "They are pretty when they hurt," he said softly, "their vulnerability holds its own rare sort of beauty."

Toreadors, always rambling about poetic and artistic nonsense. "Can we egg Ash's club now?" I queried curiously. There was something nagging in the back of one my minds, the image of a sweet but deadly rose but I could not remember the importance of it, memories of Sarah and thoughts of annoying Ash just seemed too important right now.

Alex grinned and shook his head. "That wouldn't be my type of fun." He released me at last, probably satisfied that I wasn't going to kill this time.

I frowned; unsatisfied that no one would help me egg the stuffy Toreador's club. "Well what does the poet want to do then?" I queried curiously.

"The poet wants to go to the graveyard because he heard an interesting rumour about it."

I looked at Alex incredulously, how un-Toreador like to want to go somewhere so filthy. Then again, the graveyard was old; it had some interesting architecture I believed, although I had never visited. I considered that maybe this Toreador just wanted to appreciate the beauty of the marble mausoleums. "What rumours do the dead whisper of?" I queried.

Alex's smirk widened. "You really must have some sharp insight," he commented, "knowing that it's the dead who speak."

I blinked and looked at him in puzzlement, what had I said?

"Come on." Alex led the way towards not the towering iron gates but a hole in the wall, near which some dazed hobos stood clustered around a burning can. "It's not open at night," he murmured as he crouched low to fit through the hole in the wall. "I hate going through here though, it's so filthy." Ah so Alex still was a Toreador at heart then even if he did think venturing into a graveyard was a night out. I followed after him out of boredom and found myself in the dull graveyard of Hollywood, so many celebrities and yet not a mourner, shows fame doesn't buy you love. Personally I preferred just taking hearts, much easier, and they are squishy, extra fun. Of course Isaac, as usual, disapproves of that; he disapproves of so much, stuffy Toreador.

There were two hills to the graveyard, a cluster of tombstones, many tilted with age and wear, a few sparse, spread out trees, two mausoleums and down the first hill was one lone hut with a single lamp hanging outside it. A moan called through the air and looked around in puzzlement for the source, it was not the wind. "Who's there?" I queried excitedly as I followed Alex down the hill. "Come out, come out." Another moan wailed through the air and I thought I spied some dirt shifting near a tombstone out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to investigate, to claw at the dirt and whine curiously.

"Come on," Alex called, obviously sensing my intentions somehow. I had to wonder how; did he have some special insight?

I gave my own moan of disappointment as my eyes roved about the graveyard looking for any other suspiciously shifting dirt. Was it possible that dirt itself was alive? Ah perhaps a pet rock come to life, I had told Isaac my pet rock would move if it was fed, perhaps it needed to eat dirt, yes that could be the key. I spotted another shifting of the dirt and raced towards it. I paused over it excitedly and began to kick the soft, brown grains back with my foot.

"Stop that!" Alex scolded as his arms wrapped around me and he forcefully pulled me back. Damn Toreadors and their unnatural speed!

"But the dirt's alive!" I tried to explain. "I want to play with it!"

"Not now," Alex scolded. "Look you go see if you can find something to play with in the hut," he suggested as he released me and pushed towards the unobtrusive building. "I've got something to look at anyway, something boring, it wouldn't amuse you."

I turned back to him, folded my arms and frowned. "You're going to find something fun to do and keep it from me," I accused.

He gave one of his charming smiles and shook his head innocently. "No, I wouldn't do that to you. I've just got some...graves to check out, old film stars, Isaac was interested. It would bore you, it bores me, but it must be done. You at least can find some fun." He pointed behind me with a pale hand to the hut. "Go on, don't you want to know what's in there?"

I turned my head slightly, one of me did not want to be fooled but the other was damn curious now. Maybe this was where the elves hid out, sneaky bastards, maybe this was where they hid the shoes they stole, ah perhaps I could get my cowboy boots returned! Isaac claimed to have loathed my cowgirl outfit but I knew really he liked it, when the boots and my adorable black hat had disappeared I was forced to change it though. Alas, as comfortable as the police costume was it just wasn't the same, even Isaac had to agree that perhaps the cowgirl outfit should have stayed. In his own words he had not thought things could get worse but he was wrong. Bless, so hard for the Baron to admit when he's wrong. Although, I suspect he enjoys the handcuffs just as much as I do.

I headed over to the hut, certain that my boots and a treasure trove of other footwear lurked within. Rather than knock and give the pointy eared thieves warning, I just opened the door and walked in. "Well this isn't Narnia," I murmured when I was greeted with the barrel of a shotgun.

The man lowered it a little and gave me a curious look with his pale green eyes. "No this isn't Narnia," he murmured in a deep, husky voice, "next time you should knock; I damn near blew your head off."

"Well I've always wondered if it would grow back," I admitted, "it could have been a good time to find out."

He lowered his gun completely at last and shook his head. "Nope a headshot is the best way to kill the undead, even your kind."

"My kind?" I feigned innocence and batted my eyes. Do bats bat their eyes too? Or is that little tiny bats flap in your eyelids when you bat your eyes? I batted them slowly in an attempt to catch the bats sneaking out but try as I might I just couldn't spot the shifty creatures.

"Your kind," the man answered flatly, "the bloodsuckers, I know your kind."

I sighed, why did I always seem to fail at pretending to be normal? I fixed my black rimmed, blue hat and smiled, best not to be a sore loser it just hurt too much. "So what other undead is there?" I queried curiously. "That moans in the night."

"Zombies," he answered calmly.

"How intriguing."

He shrugged. "I'm Romero by the way, the caretaker here; I keep the people out and the zombies in."

"How unfair," I pouted. "They just want to party like everyone else."

He cracked a tight smile, half-amused by me at least. "I'm not sure," he remarked, "it started about a month or so ago, the dead just decided to get up and wander the streets, some of them anyway, no one knows why. What they do know though is that zombies wandering Hollywood is a bad situation, and that's where I come in, I get to shoot zombies and guarantee my blood and no one gets torn apart by monsters they mistake for really good actors."

I giggled at that. "No one would make that mistake, there are no good actors here," I jested.

He laughed and then sat his gun beside the lone couch in the hut before flopping down onto the couch. There wasn't much to the hut, two rooms- a small bathroom and a living room with a couch, a cheap t.v, a coffee table and a stand with a microwave and a coffee machine on it, with three cupboards about it.

"So you're a ghoul," I realised. Of the humans only ghouls get to know about vampires and live and only ghouls get the blood hunger. "A ghoul and a zombie shooter how fun!"

"It can be," he admitted, "I get to shoot things for a living but it gets lonely."

"Can't leave?"

He looked up at me and shook his head. "Not really, I go wandering, then so do the zombies."

I frowned. "One of my mind's is trapped in a box, it knows how you feel," I sympathised.

He gave that odd look some humans did when they chatted with me. "Riight...you're a strange one but it's nice to have company even if it is strange." He smirked. "Especially when the company is as striking as you, I have to say I like your outfit choice, it's interesting."

I grinned, cheered up by that, though it was not enough to make me forget my lost boots and hat. "Thank-you, I had a better one but the elves took it."

"Elves? Are you smoking something because if you are I wouldn't mind a taste? It might make things a little more interesting."

"Aren't I interesting enough?"

He regarded me carefully, looking me up and down, taking in my form and rating something in his head, most likely my danger level. "You are," he admitted, "but surely you have better things to do than hang out with the caretaker."

"Well...I did have plans to egg the Asp Hole but they were thwarted."

Romero burst out laughing at that, he doubled over and laughed hard, appreciating my plans more than Isaac or Alex had. "Egg the Asp Hole?" he queried between snickers. "Oh dear, Ash wouldn't like that. Say, if you don't have any better plans than that could you do me a favour then?"

I clapped my hands eagerly and jumped up and down, at last something to do! "What? What?" I queried anxiously.

"Well sometimes a man has an itch putting bullet holes in a zombie just can't fix, you know..." He seemed to grow a little embarrassed. "If you could mind the joint for five minutes, stop any zombies from getting out?"

I studied him this time as I contemplated a response. He was an average looking guy somewhere in his thirties with dark hair that was gelled back on top and shaved on both sides. He was fair skinned, muscular and toned, probably from fighting zombies, with a tacky black, silk shirt and dirty black trousers. "I'm not allowed to play with zombies anymore," I confessed. After I took one for a walk Isaac had forbidden further contact with them, he's all for zombie cruelty the fascist.

"Oh." Romero looked disheartened at that. "Well..."

"Maybe I could help in a different way," I offered brightly.

He looked at me with renewed interest, his pale green eyes sparking with a certain hope. "What's that then?"

"You and I could be one for a while," I suggested. Seemed ideal enough, I was bored, I didn't want to shoot zombies and Romero was deprived.

"Really?" he queried in shock as he jumped up from the couch. "Er...I mean really?" He attempted to compose himself as he repeated his one worded question with less surprise and more appreciation.

I tossed my cap onto the couch and tugged my brown tresses free from their ponytail, one of my darling personas said I looked best with my hair free, or maybe it was my hair itself saying that, loathing the feeling of imprisonment. Hmmm...rebellious hair eh? "Let's go crypt keeper," I urged quietly as I began to strip. What was sex to a vampire after all? We could appreciate physical beauty, the softness of lips and the supple feel of flesh beneath our fingers but the pleasure was nothing compared to that of blood. Sex was meaningless to all of us now, we did it out of boredom, to invoke memories, to seduce, to control, but we did not do it for pleasure, only blood brought pleasure.

Romero stripped quickly, anxious and perhaps a little afraid that I was a dream soon to evaporate. Now that would fun, turning into air, yes I liked that idea, I could become a million particles, I would be everywhere, all seeing, all knowing. Although, didn't I have enough parts of me as it was? Perhaps best not to become a million pieces then. I let the caretaker take control; it was his needs that needed satisfying after all. There was no grace or affection to it; it was rough, hard and loud.

He groaned and moaned as all humans seem to, drowning out the low keens from outside but he was not quite loud enough to block out the imposing knock of his wooden door.

"Shit!" he exclaimed angrily.

The door open and Alex looked in curiously. "Oh dear," he murmured disapprovingly as I beamed up at him from the floor where I was positioned beneath Romero.

"You did say to see if I could find something to play with in here," I reminded him, "and I did."