I should have stayed with Phil. I knew that now, too late of course, and now I was about to be murdered by a madman who thought he and I were vampires. It had been the dark haired man who had approached me outside The Asylum; he had caught me at the entrance of the apartments, grabbed me and forced me up the stairs with a strength and speed I could not fight against. He had pushed me into room 508 and shut the door. When I screamed bloody murder and tried to escape several times, including out the window, he had bound me to the only chair in the apartment with his belt and gagged me with a red, silk handkerchief that felt horribly slippery against my mouth.
"I do not know what the fuck is wrong with her, when do I ever know that?" he roared down his expensive looking, sleek, black mobile phone. He had only just called the man and proceeded to yell irately down the phone at him about me as if the caller knew me. "If you were here Isaac you would understand there is a need for swearing!"
Isaac. It sounded familiar and yet... No I did not know any Isaac and I did not know this lunatic. It was mistaken identity. Multiple identities. That voice again, I shuddered and tried to ignore it. It sounded... No not real, this wasn't real! "LET ME GO!" I shrieked from under the gag as I had been doing for about twenty minutes now if not more. "LET ME GO YOU BASTARD! HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" I tried to be as loud as I could but it came out as muffles impossible to make out. I screamed and got a glare in response.
"Look either it's a very elaborate trick that she's taking way too far or she's finally stepped into the abyss of madness, I don't fucking know! Well look I'm sorry but I'm having to deal with this shit and I hardly know her, sorry I hardly know any of her personalities," he sneered sarcastically. "I mean she's a Malk they're lunatics at best, so maybe this is normal behaviour, well as normal as it gets, but I don't know! She's in danger of a bloody execution, freaking out in front of humans, seriously she thinks I'm trying to kidnap her or something." He paused to glare at me with furious grey eyes.
I glowered back at him hatefully, who was tied up here? Who was the hostage? Had he forgotten that detail or did he just not want his friend knowing that much. "YOU ASSHOLE! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP! HELP ME! I'M A HOSTAGE! HELP!"
"Well I'm here to watch over her of course." He paused for a moment and glanced at me again. Guilty, traitor, liar! The words hissed through my mind accusingly. "Well..." He dropped his voice low, perhaps so I wouldn't hear but I could. "She needs watched, Malkavians are liars even if they don't realise it themselves, she doesn't know what she's doing or saying half the time, as tonight has just proved in spectacular fashion. Hey look, don't get defensive I'm just stating the facts here! No one knows what she and that brat prince say to each other, we only have her word to go on, it's just her, him and his sheriff for witnesses. Look..." He paused again and let out a sigh. "Isaac, Nines cast her out, said he didn't trust her and he didn't want her help, made it clear she's not to work for the Anarchs anymore. Hey! Hey! Calm down! I know she helped out, I was there, I know that but Nines, he's edgy and paranoid thanks to the Camarilla making Anarchs disappear thanks to the rumours of Ventrue disappearing in Hollywood, things are just a little tense and Ariadne's somewhat in the middle of it."
That name again. I hissed and cursed angrily, that wasn't me! "I'M SARAH DAMNIT!" I screamed. "SARAH YOU ASSHOLE! LET ME GO!"
"Isaac I've already got her yelling at me, please don't start, I'm on your side okay but it is a little difficult to tell what she's up to and who she's working for and I can't blame Nines for not wanting to take a risk. He refused her help but she's still giving it to La Croix, sorry! Shit! Bad choice of words, okay? Isaac I didn't mean it like that! I just meant she's still helping him, that's why she's here, she's on his business but I don't know what that is or why she's doing it. Come on Isaac, just think for a second here, what does she gain by working for La Croix if it's not information to pass on to the Anarchs?"
Untrusting poet, the pretty ones are always so judgemental, stay with the fairies and munchkins, they know best, they trust. I shuddered, the voices were getting louder and the thirst was causing a very real agony to rush through my body. I bowed my head, slumping slightly as my vision flashed red. So thirsty, my throat was dry, my stomach ached, it had been too long, I needed nourishment, I would die without it! That heat, that sweet taste, just one tiny drop to savour...
"Yeah she could be doing it to pass information onto you," the dark haired man remarked reluctantly, "but you're in Hollywood, this is Downtown business really, it's the Downtown Anarchs the Camarilla are targeting. I mean, you're not threatened by him or them, and you didn't ask her to work for him. Alright, alright, I'll drop it for now; just stop yelling at me, I'm getting enough of an earful from her. Oh no, have a listen?"
I heard him approach me. Yes closer, closer, just a little inch further, and another, and... I raised my head up with a snarl and tried to fling myself at him. I felt the belt begin to give way as the chair shuddered forward with me. I collided into him as my teeth ripped through the gag and we both fell to the ground. Blood! It was a blur of reds with flashes of black. His tender flesh was so close, I had to taste it, had to bite it, just a little prick! The belt was growing looser, it would snap soon and then I could pin him. He struggled beneath me, his arms held down by the same chair that kept me just out of reach from him.
I snapped at him and tried to lunge forward again. CRACK! The wood broke as two legs gave way and I fell on top of him. My cheek brushed against leather before my teeth found flesh. I sank them deep and he gave a louder curse. BLOOD! It flooded up to greet me but only just kissed my lips before I was cruelly thrown away. "NO!" I had to have it! I hit a hard wall but it was not enough to daze me. I could not see, my vision was black but I could smell, yes it was fresh, oh so fresh and so close, I would have it!
"ARIADNE! ARIADNE!" That voice, tender, firm, controlling, I wanted to listen, yes some part of me wanted to hear it, wanted to respond but that part was weak and I ignored it.
A fist struck my face sending me reeling back again. "You little bitch, you bit me!" I tried to leap up again but found myself suddenly entangled in a blanket. I snarled as I tried to free myself but just found my limbs becoming further wrapped up in it. BLOOD! Fuck I could smell it, it taunted me, it was too much! I would die without it!
He moved too quickly, causing the scent to dance around the room tauntingly. I turned my head as quick as I could and tried to move at it but I was far too slow. I was the carnivorous tortoise and he the hare. "One minute," he grumbled, "I need to go to that Pawnshop." Then he was gone, taking the scent with him.
My body took over then, guiding me through the haze of reds and blacks. I collided with several counters and sent a plate crashing to the ground. The thirst was unbearable, it needed sated and now. It was in control... Blood... I paused for a moment, I could sniff some still, yes it was close, closer than I had realised. Ah of course! I lifted my right wrist up to my teeth and broke through the skin.
It tasted wrong. It was wrong! I was trying to drink my own blood, what the Hell was wrong with me? This was beyond insanity! I fell to the ground and started to cry, I could not take this! This thirst, this unnatural need, this man, the names he mentioned, vampires, the voices, no it was not real! It was not real!
"Oh shit, what are you doing?" He was back, his blood drifted to me through the air causing another snarl to escape me but I was too weak, too broken to pursue. Tempted though, I found myself lifting my wrist back to lips and sucking on it again. It was bitter and cold, not what I needed, not what I wanted. I was a disgusting monster. A sob escaped from me, muffled by my own flesh. This was his fault; he had caused all this to happen with all his talk of vampires!
He came at me again and moved so quick I could not fight him or stop what he was doing. Before I knew it I was tied and gagged again, this time with rope and a handkerchief of cotton I suspected. "Hello? Hello? Isaac. She bit me that's what happened, yes she did! She's really lost it! She's frenzying right now, well shit how am I supposed to do that? Just lure someone up here? She'll kill them and then I'll have a corpse on my hands and I can't untie her anyway, she'll flee and probably cause a bloodbath."
A bloodbath? No I wouldn't, I couldn't, I wasn't like that, I was human, I was Sarah, why didn't he understand?
"Look you need to send someone out here, it will be dawn soon and who watches her when the sun's up huh? Well what if she doesn't sleep? What if she gets out and cooks herself? Look even if she does sleep I can't do this every night, I need help figuring this out, figuring out what's happened to her. Put you on to her? Well alright but she's not talking back, because if I take off that gag she'll scream the place down and the police will be called and then we will both be screwed."
I heard him approach me again but I could not see him, the reds and blacks weren't fading and I began to worry that I was now blind. "Ariadne?" That voice again, it was distorted, a crackle in my left ear. It made the tears flow faster down my cheeks though I had no idea why. "Ariadne, why are you being this way? Kent is your friend; he is trying to help you, granted you may be angry with him for mistrusting you but he still likes you and he doesn't want to see you executed by the Camarilla, and neither do I. Whatever this is, it's not you, I know you are a Malkavian but this behaviour, it's uncharacteristic even with your madness. Please Ariadne, be yourself, be the beautiful, mad, spirited vampire we know."
"YOU DON'T KNOW ME! MY NAME IS SARAH! SARAH! SARAH!" I screamed it over and over until I thought I would go hoarse.
"I don't know what she's trying to say Isaac, probably just trying to get attention. I really hope she does just slumber when the sun comes; I'm already tired of listening to this. I don't know, I saw her last night and she was her usual idiotic crazy self but then I found her tonight at The Asylum and she was like this, acted like she didn't know me, like she remembered nothing about being a vampire. Yes, The Asylum, it belongs to the Voerman sisters, Jeanette and Therese. Eh not much, I'll check it out but I can only do that if I know someone's watching her. I can't risk letting her go who knows how many violations she will commit if I do. No, I know, getting her blood is going to be tricky.
No Isaac if you've important business deal with it, besides Therese might take it as a threat if you show up here; she runs things pretty tight in Santa Monica. Right thanks, bye." Another sigh, he was still close to me, still taunting me with his blood filled veins. My skull ached, it was a migraine pulsing through it and stretching down the back of my neck and my throat setting my skin on fire. I was feverish yet there was no sweat on my skin. "Sun's here in an hour Malk, please sleep," he begged.
Sleep? How the Hell could I do that? Never mind the agony and the blindness I was suffering, I was the prisoner of a madman! Who knew what he might do to me if I dared to sleep? I told myself I would stay awake; perhaps try and escape when he slept as he seemed to imply he was going to do.
I heard him shuffle about for a while, locking the door, checking the windows, hunting through cupboards, groaning and muttering about dirt, roaches and germs before he seemed to lie down on the bed. Then he rolled and tossed about, grumbling about lumps, stains and bedbugs before he finally went silent. By then my migraine was almost paralysing and my blindness had dimmed, the room was almost visible again though it was cast in a horrible, red light. I wanted to take action, to do something but I felt terribly exhausted.
My eyelids grew droopy against my will and I felt my muscles begin to sag; I was suddenly so tired but why? Drugs? Had he drugged me? No he couldn't have, I had drank nothing, felt no injection, no but then what? Helios is coming, time to sleep and welcome the sandman.
Blood. Right in front of me, soaking my lips, inviting me to taste it. I opened my mouth and tried to sink my fangs in ravenously but I was restrained by a tight grasp on the back of my skull. "Take it easy," I heard the voice of my dark haired captor command firmly. Was it his blood? I was revolted by my urges but unable to resist, I needed this, this would end the dizziness, the pain, the blurriness, it would all go away with this. So torturously slow I lowered my fangs against soft, hairy, warm flesh and savoured the blood seeping out of a modest cut. Tangy, salty, hot and somehow not as foreign to me as it should be. No I knew this blood. Impossible! No one knew blood! No one drank blood either! What was I doing?
I wanted to pull back, I tried to urge myself to do so but the voices shrieked at me, told me to keep going. Mother's bloody milk, suck at the teat, be nourished. More, more, more. There was a low groan and the grip on my skull tightened and yanked me back brutally. I gave a shriek and squirmed, fighting against it. More! More! The grip was stronger than me though and held me in place until the scent of blood drew away.
For a moment there was a ringing in my ears, perhaps the bells of elves, and then everything seemed calmer. I was able to open my eyes and take in my donor.
"Hello there sugarpuss." What a vulgar thing to say but then the speaker did look sleazy. "What have you been up to?" He was a male somewhere in his thirties, dark gelled back hair shaved short at the sides, fair skin, faint stubble, small, olive green eyes, a strong jaw, a large mouth, a pointed nose and long ears. Not a model but not bad looking either, he could have come across as an average man who liked his beer and women if not for the strange glimmer of experience and wariness in his eyes and the shotgun clasped casually in his right hand. Shotgun!
I screamed and a hand immediately clamped around my mouth from behind. "You really need to stop doing that," my captor snarled scornfully. "I mean my ears are about to bleed and frig knows who you will attract with that noise. Seriously, if you don't stop I'm going to gag you with a sock, understand? And it will be a smelly one, I promise, even if I have to find tweezers to lift it with."
I nodded; I didn't want gagged again, especially not with a sock of all things. The hand went away and I eyed the shotgun and its holder nervously. He had not even flinched when I had screamed. "Are you...are you going to kill me?" I stammered.
The man with the gun laughed. "A bit late for that."
"What?"
He looked past me to my captor questioningly. "Isaac wasn't kidding," he muttered.
"No," came the annoyed reply, "she's gone mad even by Malk standards, has somehow forgotten she's a vampire, despite the rather obvious blood drinking there."
I swallowed hard and tasted some of that mentioned blood. It made me feel sick but I resisted the urge to throw up, the last thing I wanted to taste was vomit.
"I see. So she's forgotten everything?" The olive eyes were back on me with a somewhat thoughtful glance.
"Wondering if she remembers that one time in the shack?" my captor queried tactlessly.
In the shack? What? I looked at shotgun man and saw a very slight tinge of pink creep up his neck. "Er...that's hardly important."
"No," came the dry retort.
"Let me go," I pleaded, "please, I'm not who you think I am, my name is Sarah. Just let me go, I won't tell anyone about you, I swear."
"Sarah?" My captor came into my vision, stepping round from the chair and blocking the man with the gun from view.
I nodded hastily. "Yes Sarah."
"Hmm..." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Your Kine name maybe," he muttered.
"Please," I begged again, "let me go. I haven't done anything wrong; I just want to go home." Yes home, where was that again? Here in Santa Monica of course, yes had to be, that made sense but it didn't feel right. There was somewhere else, somewhere with stars...
"Wow she really is screwed up," the second commented in a husky voice. "Is she from here?"
The dark haired man, Kent was it, three names, just one more than us, shrugged. "I don't know, could be, only Alex and she know that and he's as screwed up as her."
Alex. Friend, sire of a sort, prisoner body, mind and soul. I shuddered; I knew the name, a redhead... I had to get out of here, this man, his words, he was making me think things that couldn't be true. "I am from here," I said with fresh conviction, hoping to try a new tactic, "and people will know I'm gone, they will be looking for me, the police will."
Kent shook his head at me. "I'd say they gave up months ago if they looked at all," he murmured, "but all the more reason to keep you locked up here. Don't want mum and dad finding out what you are or the Camarilla are gonna get pissed and I don't think even your precious prince will step in to save your head."
I shrank back from him, wondering what he was talking about. Off with her head! Wandered too far down the rabbit hole haven't we? Well best find the White Rabbit then and follow him out.
He stood upright and glanced over at the man with the shotgun. The crypt keeper, yes he was fun, so sad with the graves but free now, yes free to play. "Crypt keeper," I muttered in confusion.
The man perked up at that and grinned. "That's me, Romero, so you remember something then?"
"No," I snapped with a shake of my head, "I don't know you, either of you!"
Kent sighed dramatically and waved his hands in the air dismissively. "That wonderful jaded foresight of yours, sometimes useful, sometimes not and as frigging reliable and truthful as a broken clock."
"Hmm yes my sight is green sometimes," I murmured. What? "This is you," I snarled, "you're driving me crazy! You're crazy!"
For a moment the grey eyed man looked astonished and when Romero burst into laughter he immediately looked furious. "I'M NOT THE CRAZY ONE!" he shrieked. "DRIVING YOU CRAZY? YOU'RE THE ONE PRETENDING TO BE HUMAN, YOU'RE THE ONE SCREAMING AND CRYING AND YELLING! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S A FUCKING MAD MALKAVIAN!"
I flinched at his yelling and when he went silent I said calmly, "shouting erratically, definitely a sign of insanity, never mind holding a girl against her will, making her drink blood and talking about vampires, yep, you're definitely the crazy one here."
He spluttered for a moment, lost for words, before letting out another string of profanities and turning to Romero. He pointed at him almost accusingly with one finger, "you mind her, I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and no funny business."
Romero looked offended at that. "What do you take me for?" he asked dryly.
Kent shrugged. "She's tied up, maybe you like the kinky stuff, how should I know? You shoot zombies and have sex with vampires; you're obviously into weird shit."
Romero said nothing, merely gave a bashful yet agreeing grin that unnerved me. He shot zombies and slept with vampires? These guys had to be on drugs. Oh no, no drugs for the bloodsuckers or the ghouls, poisons the blood, tastes so foul. No, no, perfectly sane, everyone is, so boring, except for her, daughter of Janus, like us, hears the voices. Got to us through the voices, came down the cobweb, nasty spider, and... "Enough!" I clenched my fingers beneath the rope, shut my eyes and willed the voices away.
"Mad," Kent said flatly before he walked towards the door. I heard it open and shut quietly before I opened my eyes again.
Romero was leaning against the bed with his shotgun leaning beside him whilst he busied himself with lighting a cigarette. Oops a lie, nicotine is a drug, no hallucinations, no fun. He glanced over at me and inhaled deeply. "So what exactly do you remember?" he queried in that deep voice of his.
I stared back at him, surprised that he even cared. Surely he was like Kent, somehow convinced that I was the liar here or the one with amnesia or whatever the theory was. I thought hard about it, what did I remember? It was a tangled blur of out of order events that gushed through my mind, sometimes mere flickers, sometimes a full film screening of events of my life. I could not think where I lived, when I had last been at college, when I had last seen Samantha or spoken to my parents. The clearest thing in my mind was finding myself in The Asylum before banging into Kent. "I was at a club," I admitted, "The Asylum, then I went outside and bumped into Kent. He thought I was someone else and he chased me and I ran into The Blood Bank, bad choice though because that place seems to be run by a psycho."
"Really?" Romero looked intrigued.
I nodded. "Well I say psycho, maybe you and the vainpire would think he's downright normal."
"Vainpire?" Romero snickered at that. "Nice pun, don't think Isaac would approve much but I like it, the Toreadors are certainly vain."
Toreadors? Isaac? That name again, it brought up a faint image of someone, someone kind and obsessed with beauty and inner depth and so certain that I had a beautiful personality, so fascinated by my many mad quirks. It couldn't be Isaac, I didn't know any Isaac. Was it someone else?
"So this psycho, what happened with him?" Romero willed me to continue my tale. I wondered if he was looking for me to give him witnesses he could eliminate, people who might otherwise come save me. I thought of Phil, he had helped me but then he was working at that sordid Blood Bank too and he knew what his companion was doing; in fact he was helping him.
"He tied me up to a chair where some other girl was and stole my blood and hers; it's the least fun game of musical chairs I've played. I got away thanks to a friend and then I ended up here where Kent ambushed me and tied me to a chair because he's convinced I'm someone else, someone he mustn't like too much."
"A friend helped you," Romero honed in on that detail, "so you are from here then."
"Yes!" I snapped. "So believe me, someone will notice my absence pretty soon and come looking for me."
He shrugged. "It's not something you'd want," he said, "not really. Your kind can't be with Kine you know, it's too dangerous, you try and keep everything secret but it doesn't work and then you're left with three choices- turn them, make them a ghoul or kill them. The first choice will get you and them executed if you don't have permission, the second, it's really not for everyone and you're not meant to do it to friends and family, rather people who can be useful to you, ghouls...well I can admit it, we're glorified servants, and not much more. Then we have your third option, probably easier for a Malkavian than a Toreador but then again you've done that at least once that I know about and you didn't cope so well with it."
"What?" I stared at him, the cryptkeeper's bath, what a bloody mess, oh dear bad pun. Poor Sammy, still missed her, such a waste.
"I didn't know the details at the time, Isaac filled me in, although he wasn't entirely sure himself what happened. You're mad and you've got fangs, it's a lethal combination, especially for those who know nothing about you."
"You know nothing about me," I snarled angrily, loathing him for portraying me as some sort of insane murderer.
"Well I suppose I don't," he admitted nonchalantly, "your Isaac's and we...well it made things difficult. It's probably best that we're just well...whatever we are, I mean I like you but he..."
"Cat got your tongue? Most annoying when they do that, worse when mice get your ears, though it doesn't happen as often, they're not as crafty as cats."
Romero gave me an odd look before continuing on. "I don't understand you and Isaac, that is, I don't get what it is that he feels for you, not that he would share with me but whatever it is, he's pretty strong about it but then all Toreadors are strong about all emotions, it's their curse or blessing, depending on who you talk to."
"Again with the Isaac and the Toreadors, I have no idea who or what you're talking about," I grumbled. Liar, naughty, naughty, your nose will grow!
"Well let's see now," Romero looked thoughtful as he took another puff from his cigarette, "Isaac is the Baron of Hollywood, he's an Anarch, which is kind of ironic because they're meant to be all about equality so surely they're against having things like Barons, but don't mention that to him he gets annoyed about it. Anyway, he and you have some sort of odd relationship that started a few months ago, or so I think, but I didn't know about it, I didn't even know about you until you showed up in my hut one night." He paused and grinned widely. "And what a night that was. Something Isaac was well, let's say less than happy about. Although you must have said something to him because he calmed down a bit and decided he just didn't want to know, but why you er...wanted to be open, well I don't know. I mean you're nice and I'm up for whatever even if you are well...batshit crazy but I mean I'm not sure it's a good idea because I don't get the deal between you and the Baron."
"Are you hitting on me?" I queried tentatively.
"What? No!" he answered quickly with a dismissive wave of his hands. "Er well...maybe, not now though, when you're back to being you, maybe then we'll work something out if Isaac really is okay with it. I don't get it though and I think I'm going to stop talking about it now because I don't really like the look you're giving me."
I was glowering at him furiously, willing him to just stop talking such nonsense. "I thought I was dangerous," I reminded him, "and crazy."
"Well you are," he retorted casually as he stubbed out his cigarette on the bedpost, "but it doesn't bother me, a lot of people are dangerous. Personally I think the Toreadors are worse, at least you're openly nuts but they hide their nature; they try too hard to be human, which makes them very deceptive. People would be wary around you unless you're using your powers but not around them, with all that beauty and style and the way they talk, people would be lured in very easily."
"I see." I didn't but I felt like humouring him, he was better company than Kent after all.
Silence fell and during it the burning thirst returned, starting as a dull ache in my throat that spread down to my chest and stomach and to my brain, tormenting it with thoughts of hot, carmine liquid. I gave a low moan and stared at Romero carnivorously, I could hear his blood pounding through his veins tauntingly. He had so much of it; surely he could spare some more of it. Round and round, it was an endless river of red and I was parched for it.
"You know your eyes are turning red," he commented to be coolly as his right hand grasped his shot gun.
"I need the red fire," I murmured, "oh the life giving liquid, yes I need it, I need it's heat, just one drop," I groaned.
He glanced down at his arm and I realised it had healed, hmm that was fast, not so mortal after all then. Was anyone these nights? I needed it though and was I not going to wait while he debated the matter. "Feed the pony," I said as I locked eyes with his, "let the pony have a little nibble on the carrot."
His eyes glazed over slightly and he looked down at his arm dubiously. "Carrot?"
"Yes, let me have a bite, I'm a hungry horsie."
He glanced back up at me, still suspicious and yet willing, I could see it in his eyes, he was almost perfectly complacent. I flinched back and shook my head, what the Hell was I talking about and why was he believing it? Oh but the blood, I was so thirst for it but why? I wasn't a vampire!
He stepped towards me inching closer with his arm slightly outstretched but then he paused and shook his head. "Shit," he cursed as he looked at me warily, "you were playing mind games weren't you sugarpuss?"
He took a step back and pointed his shotgun at me warningly. "I'll shoot you if I have to," he said sincerely, "not to kill of course but I'm sure it will still hurt."
There was a red tinge around the edges of my vision and I could feel a sharp ache in my stomach. A low growl escaped me and I snarled, "fuck you! I need it! I NEED IT!"
"Stop it," he said warningly, "or I will shoot."
"Go ahead; you'll bring the cops straight to us!"
"Hmm well that is a good point," he admitted and I cursed myself for reminding him of that, "well alright, I'll just stick a sock in you then."
"Just let me feed," I begged, "please, it burns, oh it aches, I just want that nourishment, that sweet, salty taste."
The door opened and Kent strode into the room with a miserable expression. "Well Therese was no help," he grumbled, "cold Ventrue bitch, says she has no idea who you are or what might have happened to you." He eyed me in annoyance. "Says her sister might know but of course she was out, I'll have to call back later and hope for an audience. I can't find any other vampires in town who might be helpful either, there was a ghoul in the club who said his master might know but he's in hiding and he's a Nosferatu to boot so it's highly unlikely that kind of filth was at The Asylum. Shit Ariadne if this is a game you need to stop, okay?" He leaned down and into me, holding my gaze with his own furious, grey one. "I can't figure this out, what happened to you or why and I'm not getting answers about town. The vampires around don't know you."
"And I don't them because vampires aren't real," I retorted heatedly.
Kent cursed and then gave a groan. "Why do I have to be babysitter?" he moaned. "I'm too loyal to the cause, that's the problem, I should have just let you go but Nines thought you'd be up to Prince business, thought we could get something useful from you without you even knowing it. Can't trust you, can't openly use you but somehow can still follow you," he muttered, "it's all a wonderful irony, isn't it?"
"So you've been following me to what, exploit me?" I demanded. "Or whoever it is that you think I am because I'm not her, I'm Sarah, I'm a human."
He flinched slightly and had the grace to look sheepish. "Er..."
"Oh dear," Romero commented in a humorous voice, "you've slipped up."
Kent turned, probably to shoot the ghost guardian a glower. "Ah I don't care anymore," he grumbled as he turned back to look at me. "You don't even have a clue who or what you are, you're probably not even going to remember this when you do come back to your senses or half-senses as it may be in your case. Nines didn't want you working for the Anarchs but he didn't want you working for the Prince either, the less help the Prince has the better and he doesn't trust that you're not giving the Prince information about us. He realised after though that maybe you could give us useful information that we could trust if you didn't know you were giving it, i.e there would be no reason to suspect you were lying because you would have no motivation to, although you are mad and clearly have several personalities so then again..." He sighed dramatically and touched a hand to his pallid brow. "So Nines had me come with you in the hopes that I could find out what business you were doing for LaCroix, in case it was business that might harm the Anarchs but of course you had to just conveniently forget yourself, your business and everything else, which I suppose it's probably penance for my treachery."
"Penance for your treachery," I repeated dryly. In truth I wasn't sure what on earth he was babbling about, all I gathered was that he had betrayed me or the me he thought I was or my doppelganger or the other us. Pretty ones are always good at deception.
He nodded with a softened glance at me. "Yes," he admitted quietly, "I betrayed you and I didn't stand up for you and even though really it should be expected, I mean you are a Malk whether you remember it or not, you are a danger whether you want to be or not and you do work for the Prince, whether it's a ruse or not and yet...well damn I do feel guilty. Personally I think it's Isaac's influence, he's making me believe maybe you're not all that bad although you're certainly pushing it these nights."
Isaac, the Prince, Malk, it was making my head spin as was the thirst. The red tinge was beginning to take over my vision now and whilst Kent's words had been a distraction the thirst was coming back again. I let out a low groan and doubled over, it was a horrible, overwhelming need that I could not control or subdue.
"Ah great, frenzying again," Kent muttered, "this really is my night."
"You can't keep her tied up forever," words of advice from the crypt keeper.
"I know that but I can hardly let her go like this, she'll murder half the city, committing several Masquerade violations and bringing down an executioner and the police on herself."
"Blood," I moaned. I could picture it, smell it even and almost feel its watery tingle on my tongue.
"Maybe she needs to go back to this club," Romero suggested, "that's where you think it all started, right?"
"That's a potentially good idea," Kent agreed grudgingly. "Why does Isaac have you shoot zombies when you've got a brain?"
"Because I get to shoot zombies," Romero said in his happy deadpan voice, "and as far as I know I'm the only person around Hollywood who considers marksmanship an art."
"Right."
"Look I'll let her drink from me again if you hold her," Romero offered, "but we can't do this every night. Take her back to the club, either you'll find a way to fix things or you won't but it can't get any worse than this. Besides, if she runs you can catch her, you bastards are fast."
I felt Kent's hands grasp my skull tightly. "I suppose," he grumbled.
Blood. Right in front of me, so tantalising close! I sank my fangs in without hesitation and sucked longingly like it was the nectar of the gods. Romero was certainly right about one thing, I couldn't do this anymore, if I wasn't mad already then I soon would be, kept captive by a guy who claimed to shoot zombies for fun and another guy who thought he was a vampire.
A lot of dialogue in this chapter I know but given the situation I think it makes sense, well as much sense as it can from the POV of a Malkavian who's lost her senses. I have to say I definitely love writing Romero and Kent's roles, always had a soft spot for Romero in the game, felt he and Isaac had a lot more potential than showed. Little bit more about Sarah, which I guess is what this arc of the story is about, Ariadne/Sarah's past life in Santa Monica.