This will be my last update for a short while since I'm going on holidays but don't fret, I will definitely keep going with this fic! Many thanks for the reviews as always, I'm so glad people like Ariadne/Sarah. Happy to reach Santa Monica at last, always loved it, especially now since it means some more character development and revelations for my Malk. Absolutely cannot wait to have Jeanette, Therese and Beckett all make an appearance, next to a certain Baron I loved these guys the best in the game. Also, what do you guys think of Kent? I actually really like writing his superior character, he's smug but there's a nice side there too, a change from the kinder yet crazier Alex. Guess Kent's got some secrets too. Oh also, I lingered on describing the first apartment because honestly given the state of it I really didn't understand why a player's Toreador would be so accepting of it? Granted beggars can't be choosers but still I think Kent shows a just reaction. Also, nostalgia!

Santa Monica, it had a strange sort of night life to it, subdued compared to Downtown and calmer than Hollywood. The Kine and Kindred were their own type of oddness, city folk sprinkled with seaside folk, they partied on the surf, sneered at visiting town folk and considered beach parties and drug deals more important than fashion, the movies and the latest soaps. There was only one club of note, The Asylum, and the hotels and motels were cheap lacking the finesse of Downtown's luxurious hotels. People came here for the views not the rooms.

Even here on the damp tarmac road I could smell the salt in the air, the beach was close, yes I remembered beach parties, playing tag and hide and seek, getting bitten whilst Thin-bloods watched on... I had grown up here, I had gone to college here, I had died here. Ah but no gravestone? Was dear Samantha from here too? Yes, an accent we had shared, mine twisted with the dialects of the many voices in my head fighting to be heard. The mysterious S club why of course, Santa Monica, it was in the name, a conspiracy!

"Er...where are we going Malk?"

I looked at Kent and smiled. "The ruler without the crown made promises of a haven here," I murmured, "many moons ago, shortly after he plucked me from a mock execution and offered me a chained freedom."

"Hmm a chained freedom, how poetic," Kent mused. "Perhaps you understand what he's about better than I give you credit for. So this haven, where is it?"

I glanced about the streets curiously. There were small groups of teenagers and college students shuffling past, lone adults with their hands in their pockets, trying to savour the salt air over the pollution as they worried about work and considered wandering to C. Moore's Coffee. "Near," I murmured happily as I spied a delightful silver sprite glimmering near a brown bricked building. I grabbed Kent's arm and skipped, following the faint tang of Kindred and the glittery trail left by the sprite as it flew off, ever out of reach, no doubt fearful that I might pluck its wings.

On until we came to a building with abandoned trinkets forgotten ornaments, unwanted instruments and other worn objects in the windows. I paused and hunted hopefully for a golden phoenix egg or perhaps, if I was lucky, the Mad Hatter's hat but I saw nothing of interest until my eyes caught a dusty lamp. It had a gilded spine and a battered blue hood with tassels. "Ah the genie has updated his prison!" I cried out delightfully as I pressed my face up against the cool glass.

"Of course he has," Kent commented dryly. "Come on Malk, where's this promised haven?"

"Ah the promised land," I murmured as I continued to stare longingly at the lamp, yes the gap in the centre, a gaping hole downwards, there he was hidden, waiting for someone to rub the lamp and set him free! "Yes, down the narrow alleyway, a hidden away apartment, very subtle," I commented as I pointed loosely with one hand.

"Well come on then," Kent said as he grabbed my arm.

I shook him off. "The lamp!" I cried out anxiously. "I must have my wishes!"

Kent sighed heavily. "I doubt the place is even open."

"Would you bet on it?" I queried as I turned round to face him hopefully.

His head cocked to one side in a blur before his grey eyes met mine and he said, "no." Damn Toreador speed, he had read the same crooked OPEN sign I had.

I turned and pushed open the door, giggling as the bell gave a tinkle. "Oh my, in a cage!" I marvelled at the shop keeper kept behind a wired door and then behind another wire fence. "Why such protection?" I wondered as I glanced at the items lining the shelves behind him, tantalising just out of reach. Was this a realm of Tartarus? If we crossed through the gate would we find ourselves in the Underworld to be taunted by objects so cruelly out of grasp?

The shop keeper looked at me calmly, his gaze glassy like Slater's with that same strange sweet odour hanging around him. He was close to his thirties, dark haired, pale eyes, an attempt at a beard and a dirty t-shirt, largely an unremarkable man. "There's been some trouble in town," he murmured. "Always is though, still, doesn't hurt to be safe."

"Trouble?" Kent echoed warily.

"Some slasher maniac," the man commented casually, "tearing people up, that sort of thing. Messy business, had the pier shut down for a while but it's open now."

"Never a dull moment is there?" Kent queried dryly.

"We can go to the funfair!" I cried out excitedly as I looked at Kent hopefully. "You can take me on the big wheel and win me a teddy!" I clutched both his hands in mine and shook them eagerly. "And then we can build sandcastles!"

Kent frowned and I saw his usual look of embarrassment fill his eyes but I was certain there was a spark of happiness there too. The Toreador needed a beach vacation just as much as I. Ah yes there was business to be dealt with too, wasn't there? Well it could be handled later.

"So you looking to buy or sell or..." Ah the clerk, quick to business on a slow night, not eager for company to break up his boredom then.

"Buy!" I chirped happily. "The container of light and magic and great secrets in the window!"

"The what?"

"The battered lamp with the blue shade," Kent explained impatiently.

"Oh right..." Ah dear shopkeeper, he did not want to do labour tonight, he was...mellow yes that was the word, hmm what a nice feeling, like being in purgatory, not ecstatic but not upset, just calm.

"I can get it," Kent offered. He turned around and hunted through the objects trapped between a black cloth and glass. Unsurprisingly it did not take the Toreador long to find it. I was not impressed by the lack of care he held it up with, along with a dented box of bulbs. Silly Kent, did he not understand a bulb was what had kept the genie plugged up in the first place?

"I'll take a dollar fifty for them," the man murmured.

I looked down at my dark pants and frowned, a naughty brownie or perhaps a clever kitsune had stolen my purse! Ah but it was dragons that hoarded treasure, perhaps it had bewitched me with a stare and stolen from me, wretched beast! "I am a pauper," I lamented woefully.

Kent let out another sigh, mimicking the Kine his kind were so found of. "I'll get it, if it means we can get out of here."

I grabbed him in a tight hug and he gave a small cry of protest. It lacked Ash's enthusiasm but I knew just like the fallen star he secretly enjoyed the gesture. "Let go," he grumbled, "so I can pay the man." I released him and he shoved the lamp against me before daring to enter through the gate to no man's land, a small realm of between. I hugged the lamp close and whispered down it, "you will be free soon; I shall save my last wish for that." A lie perhaps but the genie would never know.

Kent paid the man and we left, heading down the alleyway beside the shop and bypassing the drunk hobo that lingered there. "Here," I said as I pushed open a door stiff with dampness. We entered a narrow place that consisted of boxes to the left in the wall and a wooden staircase. I pranced up it until we reached the top with the golden numbers 508 marking a door. I hunted amongst my pockets, certain I had a key for this place and was delighted when, after much searching, I found my keys.

"Do you have enough key chains?" Kent questioned sardonically.

I glanced at them and grinned, there was a Charizard, a Hello Kitty, a small chain of colourful flowers, a bat teddy, a reindeer head with a light-up red nose, a miniature faux fox's tail, and a black snooker ball as well as six keys, all with coloured rubber smiley faces on them. I fumbled with lamp and started to try the keys, the one with the red smiley worked. "Ah success!" I cried out. "Let the wishes be mine!" I hurried into the room and began to rub at the lamp furiously. When nothing happened I rubbed harder and cried out, "open sesame seed!" Nothing. "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?" Nothing. "Abracadabra Alakazam!" Nothing.

"This place is a dive."

I looked to Kent and saw him shudder with disgust. He coiled away from the walls and tried to shrink inside himself as he discarded the bulbs on the filthy mattresses on the iron bed and rubbed his hands together. "It's disgusting, I cannot stay here." He looked up and side to side uncomfortably. "I can't, it's horrid, there's dirt everywhere."

"Tis the humble offerings of a Prince," I tried to console him.

"Well it's no surprise he's a cheap bastard," Kent scorned. "We're finding somewhere else, come on."

"But Kent this is free," I reminded him, "and secretive."

"It's not secretive," he scorned, "people avoid it because it's rundown not because it's hidden! Come on, it's making me itchy." He rubbed at his neck with one hand and looked at me anxiously.

"Very well, since you did gift me with this." I looked to the lamp forlornly. "Although the genie has escaped alas."

"Alas indeed," he grumbled before risking his abnormal celerity to flee from the room. I followed at a more normal pace with several hops and jumps down the stairs before finding him back in the alleyway and slightly calmer.

"Where to then snobby artist?" I asked.

He frowned at me. "I just have standards," he said grumpily. "Come on, we'll look for a nice hotel."

We did not have to wander far; Main Street 24 was just down the road. It was a deceptive name; I knew there were other numbers trapped behind the large doors and besides, where were Main Street 23 and 25? Hmm was this a magic doorway to a wizarding world? Was that the explanation for this oddity? I looked to Kent hopefully; surely this cleaner looking abode suited his standards.

"It's private," he murmured, "but we may get lucky." He led the way up the stone steps and through the double doors. Inside we were greeted not with magic and broomsticks but piano music calling down the blue, gold and grey tiled hallway from one of the rooms. This hallway was large, clean and better lit with black doors on either side. I started walking up, pausing to sniff at the doors. A resident behind this one, a bounty hunter, a businessman soon to return to this one, liked expensive hookers, hmm a messenger, a Ghoul, not long gone from this. Opposite that, yes it was cold, no scent, resident gone for a while.

"Here," I said as I fiddled at the lock with my trusty lockpick. It was not an easy task but I managed it. The apartment was large, clean and unoccupied. There were long, lacy, gold drapes, a turquoise carpet with peach rugs, plant pots, vases on stands and a turquoise couch with a matching seat. The kitchen was to the left, the bathroom on the opposite side beside the bedroom. I headed to the bedroom opening the door to find a king sized bed with silk sheets and plump cushions with tassels and velvet covers. I removed the coral coloured lamp on the mahogany cabinet and placed my own battered treasure in its place. Then I kicked off my boots, leaped onto the bed and began to jump on it.

"What the Hell are you doing?" Kent demanded as I did a backflip.

"Celebrating our good fortune," I retorted before I attempted a cartwheel. My legs tangled with themselves and I tumbled to a heap on the cushions. Ah I could slumber now; this was indeed fit for the king it had been stolen from. I had to wonder how big kings were to need such large beds. Hmm if dear Sebby got promoted would he suddenly become tall and fat?

"Do it quietly," Kent scorned, "or someone will call the police. This isn't our place, remember that."

"Ah but it is," I said as I sat up and smiled at him, "we are on holiday, a honeymoon and this is our suite!"

Kent immediately looked mortified and I wondered if he would if he had more blood in him. Ah was my companion suddenly shy? I giggled, stood up and ran to the curtains, twirling them about me before lifting a drape up by its ends and settling it at my brow. "See I have a veil," I told him cheerfully.

He shook his head. "We should...er...feed." He looked calmer as the idea came to him. "Yes, feed, we know what you can be like if you don't. Come on, this place will do while we're here providing the residents don't come back."

I let the drape drop to the ground and followed him out of the apartment. "I wonder if the moon tastes of honey at every wedding," I murmured.

Kent did his best to try and charm would be victims but for some reason his Toreador gifts of seduction seemed to fail him tonight. I had to wonder if it was linked to the fact that the females he chatted up tended to look at me and become uneasy before they hurried off. He looked at me in frustration and snarled, "can you hang back? Your weirdness is ruining my style here. I mean people are starting to think you're with me."

"Aren't I?" I queried innocently.

"No," he snapped with a shudder of revulsion. "Look, let's hunt separately, I work best alone anyway." He hurried off without waiting for a reply.

So I wandered alone, drifting past buildings listlessly as my stomach started to growl and a familiar burning ache filled my throat. The faint odour of blood filled the air making my mind spin and my stomach growl harder. I was outside the clinic, knowing that going in could only be a bad idea in my condition, I drifted down the alleyway instead. There was a medicinal tinge in the air but not enough to cover the sweet, intoxicating scent of blood. So much blood, so many types, some fresh and warm, some cold but still so saccharine on the tongue. I had been there before, a broken arm, sill stunt, yes I recalled. I wondered now if a doctor could help silence some of the voices but ah then I would truly be alone and how horrid that would be.

There was a pounding music in the air now and red lights flashing distractingly, blood on the ground, a burning bright stain, oh what a taunt those lights were! I was near Club Asylum where it had all ended, where it had all begun. I could not face it just yet or could I? I stopped outside the doors; it was a grand gothic structure, four stories high with two wooden double doors hidden above steps and behind stone columns. Purple and pink lights flashed from the windows as Goths, punks and rockers drifted in and out the doors, laughing, singing and jerking their heads in time to the music. I felt something tug at me, try to seduce me, a kindred spirit, a voice linked to my many, part of an intricate web of voices lost in the wave of madness. I stepped forward, this being was strong, they would sweep me under, seduce me away and I would forget myself, become lost...

The thirst snapped me from my trance and threatened to put me under another more feral one. I turned from the club and hurried on my way. I could not quite recall why I was here, why I had ever been here; I just knew that I had to feed. I followed one of the club goers when he broke off from his group and turned down an alleyway for a piss. He had a dark Mohawk, a ripped black t-shirt, leather cuffs, heavy, dark trousers and thick, studded, leather boots. I followed him quietly, dancing along the shadows and then sprung just as he whipped it out for a leak. He let out a cry that a muffled and then went still under my pale fingers as I sank my fangs into his supple neck.

Sarah, doe eyed Sarah, green eyes staring back, smudged with heavy black eyeshadow and eyeliner, it was a silly look, she had tried to be artist about it, tried to use her creativity to make herself look gothic and Victorian, mysterious and edgy. Back behind the reflection of hair gone rock hard with hairspray in a failed mess of spikes Samantha sat on the edge of a bed in hysterics. Sarah frowned in the mirror and shot her friend a glower that she missed.

"You're just not a goth," Samantha joked between giggles. "I'm sorry but if this is meant to seduce the guy it's not going to work!"

Sarah sighed, sadder than Samantha would realise. If this didn't work then how else could she get his attention?

I jerked back from my victim and shook wretched Sarah from my mind. You're dead Sarah, dead like Samantha so just stay fucking dead, both of you! My voices shouted, whispered, argued and jeered as they debated over banishing Sarah. Wasn't Sarah one of them? The named one, the prominent one, the one more past than present. Be the forgotten one Sarah! I released my victim, leaving him in a trance and hurried from the alleyway as I heard his friends call to him. I was tired, time to slumber and banish all thoughts of Sarah. Tomorrow night, business for the Prince, find the howling history lover. He was somewhere in town.

I slinked back to Main Street 24 and into our borrowed apartment. I spitefully sprawled out across the bed, stretching my limbs as far as I could. Let Kent sleep on the floor if my company was so bad for him. Hoped the Toreador could deal with mingling with stray dust and fluff. I closed my eyes and thought of my Baron, I missed him most when I went to rest. His cold body pressed up against mine, arms half in an embrace, he wanted to hug me, I knew he did but he was always so restrained, morals from an older time holding him back. I would make the gesture, turn into him, burrow against his chest and stay there until the dawn, safe, my minds softer, more at peace, stupid Sarah subdued. She would devour me here, this was her home, here she was strongest, everything brought back some flash of familiarity that I did not want, could not handle.