Dusk, it came with clear skies and a warm breeze, which I welcomed as I skipped out of the apartments. Tonight we were going to build sandcastles!

"Have I voiced my desire for you to go back to Hollywood yet?" Kent queried Romero with a pointed look as they walked beside me.

The grave keeper sighed and frowned back at him. "Yes, several times," he said dryly.

"And why don't you? Ariadne is, well not sane, but...hmm not normal either, well she's Ariadne," Kent remarked awkwardly. "Your work is done, go back to the Baron."

"The Baron said I could stick around for a while," Romero answered calmly in his deep, deadpan manner, "so I think I will."

Kent scowled. "Well I assume the Baron also said for you two to keep a distance," he grumbled.

"No," I answered cheerfully as I smiled over at him, "he said what happens in Santa Monica can stay in Santa Monica."

Kent gave me a disapproving grey glower. "Well so long as I'm here, no messing about between you two."

"You've said that several times," Romero commented dryly.

I giggled and said, "we'll be tidy, I promise." I then turned and hurried on, heading for a familiar shortcut. Through the car park, to the left, and down the stone steps. The car park was used for beach goers, having been built intentionally at the back of the pier entrance, the steps were a quick way to get to the beach. We reached them in no time and I hopped down each one, humming as I did. I wondered if I might spy a mermaid or a selkie or find a sea serpent's egg in the sand, they were particularly tasty when fried with bacon. We reached the underground tunnel and I sprinted on ahead across the cobblestones, the smell of salt was strong in the air now along with bird poop and melted ice-cream and I could hear the faint crackled calls of some soft stoner's soulful voice.

I halted on the short strip of golden sand, now a greyish-brown in the moonlight, black where the shadow of the pier hit it. They were here, the surfers, the stutterer, and the prophetic gypsy.

"Can't you do that elsewhere?" A voice, male and Australian. "This is the only safe turf we have, don't draw attention to it."

"Mind your own Thin Blood," a male retorted in a hiss.

"Ccc...come on...we...we just ddddon't want any trouble," another man stuttered. "Ppplease."

"I can't do this here with you snivellers, you're ruining the ambience," the angry male grumbled. "I wanted this to be beautiful, perfect," he murmured, I thought to me, "here beneath the moon amongst the waves." He sighed and I felt a hand at my chin, turning my head and bearing my throat up. "It will have to do."

"Malk?" Kent drew me back from my memories, from Sarah's memories. Here Alex had tried to turn us, me, the Toreador side of him had wanted it to be beautiful and scenic but the Thin Bloods had ruined it with their fearful protests and babblings.

"You're in the wrong place."

"Says who?" It was Romero who answered the flat, firm voice.

I turned to look at a young woman with a black bob, golden brown skin, thin eyebrows, large, dark eyes and sharp features. I met her eyes and saw a glimmer of madness within them, ah but it was indeed thin like her blood, perhaps if she was not so removed from the family she might be on the web with me, listening to the spider call out to us dear flies. One of the voices called to me, "All are blind whose eyes are closed." An interesting sentiment I thought as I nodded to myself approvingly.

The woman looked at Romero and flinched slightly. "You reek of the dead," she informed him coldly.

"I knew it!" Kent cried out accusingly as he whirled round to glower at Romero. "You two were at it!"

Romero scowled back at Kent and snapped, "how the Hell could we be with a pervert like you nearby?" It was the first time I had ever heard any real annoyance in Romero's voice; he was usually so ambiguous and sardonic that it was hard to tell what he was really thinking.

"I'm not a pervert!" Kent retorted in outrage as he flailed his arms out at his side in typical dramatic Toreador fashion.

"Really, then why are you so obsessed with sex?" Romero queried, back in his derisive manner. "Is it because you guys aren't meant to do it?" he asked innocently. Weren't we? Did I miss that rule? Should have paid more attention to Jack's Dead Lessons or maybe it had been in LaCroix's ranting of the rules somewhere...

"No, I'm not obsessed," Kent snarled childishly, "you're obsessed!"

I grinned and looked at the confused Hispanic vampire curiously. She did not feel like Kindred and yet she was a bloodsucker like I, at least I thought so. "What do you mean Beast's flower?" I queried merrily. "Don't we all drown in the odour of the deceased?"

"No," she narrowed her eyes at Romero, "it's unclear, it's not...the moaners, you dwelled near them."

"Zombies!" I cried out helpfully as I clapped my hands. "Oh you're good, do me, do me!"

"Oh great another crazy bitch," Kent complained in his usual blunt manner.

The woman turned her sharp gaze on him. "Never mind, you wouldn't understand," she said dismissively before turning from us to glance over at the others. She started to walk towards them, her feet shuffling gently in the sand with each step.

Three men stood gawking at us with unease, one half-clothed, making me wonder if he was a merman in disguise, another with his hair rubbed in moss too many times and another with a strip of black stubble down his forehead like a confused skunk. The latter looked the most nervous whilst the green haired boy, hmm perhaps he too was of the sea and it was seaweed that tainted his locks, appeared intrigued. The young Hispanic stepped behind the muscular topless one and looked at us cautiously from behind him. He had been the outspoken one, the one who had irked Alex with his protesting. Alex could have easily torn his head from his shoulders but haste, worry and probably an oncoming shift of mind had made him take heed and take me elsewhere.

"Let's build sandcastles here," I suggested, feeling a little awkward at our potential reunion. "I ruined their party last time, I don't think they like me."

"You've met them?" Kent queried in surprise. "Trust you to know the caitiffs."

"Cat tiffs? Why would cats have a tiff?" I wondered as I looked over at the beach crowd. "Did they kick sand in the kitties' eyes?"

"No you idiot," Kent scorned, "caitiffs, the Clanless ones, outcasts from other Kindred, they're bad news."

"Isn't that a little racist?" I queried disapprovingly.

Kent answered me with another glower. "Look, why are we here? Weren't you looking for Beckett?"

"Well, that would be a bonus," I admitted, "maybe we'll find the buried treasure before he does! Sandcastles first though."

Kent muttered a curse and rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Er...can't it wait?" he mumbled as he continued to stare over at the sandy misfits.

"Someone's embarrassed," Romero teased.

"Well are you keen to build sandcastles?" Kent snapped back at him.

I looked to Romero hopefully, awaiting his answer. He grinned and swept his right hand through his dark hair, which had become wavy in the wind. "I would love to, I really would but without a bucket I'm just not much good, besides I would only slow you down," he answered calmly.

I heard Kent grit his teeth together and said, "don't worry, we'll go slow for you and without buckets we can be creative! No more conformist square houses, let the regime of the bucket end and the beginning of democracy for the shrimps begin!" I shouted happily.

"Oh great, let everyone hear you," Kent grumbled as he continued to shoot glances at our puzzled beach companions.

"Maybe they'll join in," I said hopefully, "yes, an olive branch!" I started to walk over to them but someone jerked me back sharply.

"Don't you frigging dare," Kent growled in my ear in a low voice.

I squirmed from his grasp and turned round to smile at him in delight. "Oh Kent I didn't realise you wanted it to be just us three!" I cried out gleefully. "Well don't worry, there's plenty of sand for all but I won't invite them if it makes you happy."

"It does, it very much does," he said stiffly.

I rolled up my blue sleeves and commanded, "let's get to work then!"

For half an hour we scooped and patted sand, wetting our hands in the incoming tide to help smooth the sand out. The Thin-Bloods observed us from a distance, staying close to their burning barrel and radio. I knew they wanted to join in but were too shy to ask and was tempted to call them over but Kent informed me that he would bury me in sand to keep me silent if he had to and I was in no mood to play Egyptian funeral. Kent moved quickly, keeping himself a blur, and managed to make three sandcastles in the time it took Romero to complete half. The grave guardian wasn't very good and every time he patted his sand he did it too hard and it fell apart, although he kept a straight face I suspected he was devastated inside.

I paused when the warm breeze grew stronger causing my hair to momentarily fly into my face. I brushed it away, tilting my head up and into the breeze to help blow it out of my eyes. It was then that I saw a beautiful white beast high up on the cliffs watching us. "DOGGIE!" I yelled out happily, pointing out at it.

Kent paused to follow my gaze and I glanced over to see his mouth in a grimace. "That's not a dog," he said coolly, "it's a wolf and it's watching us."

"What's a wolf doing out here?" Romero wondered aloud.

"Can we catch it? Can we? Please? Oh I've always wanted a pet!" I stood up excitedly and looked at the creature eagerly, I was certain it would look extra cute with a bow on its head. The rotting, wooden steps to the pier were just ahead, built right beside the edge of the steep, dark cliffs. If I ran up to them, perhaps I could get closer, maybe enough to lure it to me with false promises of biscuits. I started to run and heard Romero and Kent give chase.

"What are you doing?" Kent cried out in exasperation. "You can't reach it; the cliffs are too far away! You are just going to scare it off!"

"I'm going to call it White Fang," I said eagerly as I started to run up the steps, wincing as they creaked.

"How original," Kent sneered sardonically.

It looked like a big wolf, with a bushy tail, large paws, thick fur tufts around its head and tinge of blue-grey to its fur along its back and the top of its neck, skull and ears. It watched me with cautious, intelligent eyes and tensed up. I gave a cry of despair when it turned and bolted into the darkness. "Come back wolfie!" I called out in vain. "I'll give you rabbit! Or Kent, you can eat him if you want, I'll hold him down!"

"You will not," Kent snapped as he elbowed me sharply. "I told you, you would scare it off!"

"It didn't look scared," Romero commented as he arrived behind us.

"No," Kent said softly as he looked to the cliffs where the wolf had stood, "it didn't. Definitely not an ordinary wolf."

"What kind then?" I demanded as I looked to him for an explanation. "A werewolf?" I marvelled. "A shapeshifter? What Kent? What?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he murmured, "not a werewolf, they're bigger and nastier, maybe...well maybe a Gangrel, though who or why they would be watching us I don't know."

"Maybe they were after the treasure," I mused, "their big paws could have dug it up fast, but they wanted to find it alone. Hmm, poor wolfie must be disappointed." I paused and turned sharply to the steps on the right. There was a stale whiff of blood in the air, faint and yet enough to poison the salty smell of the sea. I started to walk up the steps, slower now, following the scent. A rancid grave. Death was up ahead. There were so many voices I wondered how I had missed them, hearts beating, people laughing, games binging, rides humming and screams. Once fear, now delight.

"Malk where are you going?" Kent groaned. "I'm really not interested in a fair."

I wandered into a throng of people playing with hoops, water guns and darts and watched with interest as a clown was murdered with internal drowning and no one shrieked for the police. Hmm perhaps clown killing was legal in Santa Monica then, about time. I suspected the fair had only just opened; it was only coming up to seven o'clock after all, which explained the lack of activity on the beach. In a couple of hours the romantic strolls and beach parties would begin. Well maybe not parties, hmm it wasn't a weekend and summer had ended, in a month's time the fair would be closed for winter.

To the left was the familiar arcade hut, I flinched slightly as a flashback of making out with Phil in the corner filled me. Samantha and Sarah had come here with a group of students; they wasted their weekends here before heading to the pubs and clubs to get drunk, or to house parties. Phil's roommate had thrown house parties a lot, Phil had never seemed happy when Sarah, when I had come though, murmured about studies, glanced at other scantily dressed guests, frowned when I had tried to occupy his attention and then succumbed to pressure, had a few beers and usually welcomed me to his bed. Me, Sarah? Which was which? Who was who?

Death, focus on that, that was real, that smell, sweet, forgotten blood. It made me salivate, made the crowds of teens and students all the more tempting and torturous. I stumbled through the people, edging to the open fence gates that led to the rides. There were more huts ahead on the left with dodgems and twirling seats within them. The sea roared down at the right, a rippling torrent of black and silver, catching and holding the light of the stars and the moon. Further ahead and to the left the big wheel glittered and spun, and onwards even more rides, most with the big wheel, on the safety of rocky land rather than unreliable wood.

I paused at the gate though, stood beneath the lamp hanging out from the right and shuddered, it had been here. Blood had painted these boards; a shredded puppet had hung down, a gruesome find.

"Ariadne what are you doing?" Kent hissed in my ear. "Come on, I'm getting hungry and I would rather feed in private."

I reached out to the lamppost and looked up at Kent. "Don't you smell it?"

"Smell what?" he muttered. "Sweat, fear, popcorn? Hell, this is you; maybe I'm supposed to be smelling the tears of baby unicorns."

I smiled at that thought and shook my head. "No, death."

"Death is everywhere," Romero murmured dryly, "you get used to it."

"The violent vengeance in the night," I commented softly, "mother shan't be too pleased. None too pleased."

"Let's get out of here nutcase," Kent grumbled as he glanced about him. When he noticed a group of thin, tanned students, he stopped protesting. They wore short, revealing crop tops, tight, denim shorts and sandals and all of them had long legs and thin, stomachs. They were starved poor things, probably kept in the gingerbread house for too long. "Or maybe we could stay," the poet said, "have some fun."

It was tempting but Romero, not a lover of crowds, made the decision for us. "No, we're getting out of here," he said firmly, "before you two decide this is an open bar. Come on." He grabbed me by one hand and led the way back down the pier through the crowds.

The heartbeats sounded louder now, so much blood was being pumped round it almost seemed a waste, there was plenty to spare here surely. Yes, lots of little red drops to be spilled, make it rain only a little for each one, no one will notice.

Romero's grip grew tighter when my pace slackened and he pulled me harder. "Don't even think about it," he remarked warningly as he glanced back at me, "I know that look, that's your cat to a fishbowl look, just forget it."

"But the fish are so plentiful," I pouted, "one stray won't be missed."

"Keep walking Ariadne," Kent commented firmly as he appeared at the other side of me, "let's not make a scene the Masquerade might notice."

"When will I get to go to this Masquerade?" I wondered. "It sounds like fun."

"It's not," Kent retorted flatly as we started to descend back to the beach. "It's a party for assholes too afraid to openly show their identities and their views because they know deep down that they are wrong."

"You weren't invited were you?"

Kent refused to answer me and instead started storming across the sand, pausing to glance hesitantly at the tunnel. "I'm going to assume there's no treasure here," he said as he turned back at me with a look of annoyance.

I looked about the beach curiously and let out a wail when I saw that my moat was overflowing and my sandcastle was close to flooding. "Damn you Poseidon!" All my hard work for the shrimp people was soon going to be in ruination.

"Well you shouldn't have built so close to the sea," Kent grumbled as he followed my gaze. "Although I didn't think the tide was coming in as fast as that." He sighed, and I was certain it was in mourning for his own sandcastle.

I stepped towards mine and looked down at it sorrowfully. "The sea is a cruel tyrant," I murmured, "it casts out viciously with clammy hands."

"I really need a smoke," Romero commented, uninterested in my plight. I heard him shuffle about his pockets before he cursed. "Where the Hell is my lighter?"

"So that's where she got it from," Kent muttered. "I got rid of it after I woke up to find the curtains on fire, and the alarm unplugged."

I smiled as Kent looked at me disapprovingly and Romero gave me a mildly curious glance. "Why?" he asked as he frowned.

"Do you have to ask? Do you?" Kent snapped at him. "Haven't you learnt that asking her why she does anything is only going to result in some fantastical lengthy nonsense about flying toasters and leprechauns?!"

Romero shrugged. "It's interesting."

Whilst Kent spluttered out some of his rage and disbelief I confessed to Romero the reason behind my pyromania. "I didn't like the colour of the curtains," I informed him sincerely, "and thought they would look better with all the beauty of fire, and I unplugged the alarm so the noise wouldn't wake you, I know you need your beauty sleep."

"You see," Kent snarled sarcastically, "she almost barbecued me because she didn't like the colour of the curtains, and this is the woman you fuck, hope you're happy about that."

"You really do go on about that," Romero murmured dryly, "I think you need a girlfriend. Anyway, I need a light, so excuse me." The tall grave guard started walking towards the Thin-Bloods and their flaming barrel casually with an unlit cigarette held out in his left hand.

"Oh great, I stop you from talking with them," Kent complained as he frowned at me, "and now the Ghoul goes and does it."

"He'll break the ice and then we can ask of the relic hunter and the secrets of Davy Jones' locker, snared beneath sand." I started to skip after Romero and heard Kent follow grudgingly.

Romero didn't bother with a greeting, he simply lit his cigarette off their barrel and started smoking it, he could be a rude Ghoul sometimes. For their part the weak beach buddies took a few cautious steps away from him, except for the topless merman in disguise.

"Greetings outcasts!" I called to them cheerfully.

The muscular surfer looked at me wearily. "Here to force us out?" he asked defensively. "Look, we're not trying to cause trouble; we barely even know what we are."

"You are the man between D and F, the one whose blood runs thinly from the flower."

"Flower?" His blue eyes widened as he looked at me. "How did you know that?"

"Oh she knows many things," Kent said loudly as he clamped a hand down on my right shoulder and pulled me back, "some true, and some utter nonsense."

"I'm like a magic eight ball," I boasted proudly, "give me a shake fanged surfer and ask your question!"

He looked at me with unease and then suspicion. "You look familiar," he murmured.

"Ssh...sh...she," the one with only one strip of lone hair stammered, "that...thh...that night."

"Is there a fairy caught in your throat?" I asked curiously as I looked his way. He had a strip of hair on his lips and below his tongue; this man liked his hair thin, much like his blood then.

"Nnn...no," he answered me with a wary look. "Yy...you, that redhead...hh...he bb...bit you."

"That's it," the half-clothed one said in his strong Australian accent, "you're the girl from that night. He came to the beach with you, could've have caused a lot of trouble. You were Kine then though, so he turned you then?"

"He, another and then a third," I answered chirpily.

"What?"

"She's mad, just ignore her," Kent grumbled.

"You...you seek the lone wolf," the woman with the black bob babbled as she took a step towards me, "but he has been...you walk a strange path...Fortune is not your destiny. All of us are unfortunate. There is...a beast in the night...you will tread too far...They're watching you, some smile..."

"What are you babbling about?" Kent demanded.

Her brown eyes flickered over to him. "You...the number man...you have plans...there will be death...and battles... You have an odd division in yourself, your loyalty, your joy...memories are your shackles..."

"Enough of the gibberish," Kent growled out before jerking a finger in my direction, "I get plenty from her."

The woman shook her head, trying to look calm once more though the fear was evident in her eyes. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I see...well it doesn't matter, I don't know what I'm saying."

"You mentioned a wolf," Romero spoke up flatly, though his gaze was on the cliffs rather than the woman.

"The lone wolf," the woman murmured.

"Exactly," Romero said calmly.

"Ah giant Fido on the cliffs!" I exclaimed with a clap of my hands, which had the stutterer jumping back in fright. "Yes, speak of the wolf! Do you know why it was here? Do you know what it was looking for? Was it treasure? Is there treasure here?"

The surfer, the green haired man and the stutterer all looked to the woman curiously; she still looked scared and uneasy. "There is no treasure here," she said with some certainty, "and no wolf." She touched her head with one hand and groaned. "A blood cursed gallery...the wolf hunts history...You seek truths but you will find history too..."

"Great, great," Kent said dismissively. He turned to me and commented, "see there's no treasure here and if nuts here is to be believed then he will be at that gallery you said Therese mentioned to you. So we'll go there tomorrow night and look for him, alright?"

"Look for who?" I queried as I smiled back at Kent. "Is it a wolf with slippers or a vampire with paws?"

"My guess, it's Beckett, he's a Gangrel so it would make sense, not that you know what sense is. Though why he was watching us I don't know, you said LaCroix wants him to help with what again?"

"A Nodding relic," I said, proud to have remembered that. "A lure for the history hungry vampire. The tower man needs answers, wants power like everyone else. It will end in battle, these things always do but the commoners pay the price."

"That's great, now's not the time for your foresight shit, let's just feed and go to bed."

I nodded; the thirst was beginning to burn, excited by the presence of the crowds at the fair.

"Are you going to tell anyone about us?" E asked nervously.

Kent looked at him with a measure of disgust. "No, you're of no interest to us."

"And what about Lily?" E looked at me with a serious gaze. "You were talking about her; do you know where she is?"

Ah the conquered wallflower, victim to the mad Ghoul, probably a dry husk now, had to save myself though. Hmm, couldn't go back to mister crazy but then it would be cruel to send the weak unknowing Thin-Blood. "I know of the roses and bluebells," I said merrily, "but not the lilies." I thought then of Phil too, another victim of the Ghoul's, an ally too but only when he had uses, what state was he in? Would he live? Would Vandal finish his work? Why was I bothered? Well not I, just one of us, maybe a couple, mainly Sarah.

E frowned and I knew he did not believe me; perhaps my nose had grown in betrayal. I reached up to with both hands but it felt the same. "We must drink of the Kine," I said softly, "stay safe nervous outcasts." I turned from them and led the way back to the tunnel.

The sandcastles finally happened, yay! So I suppose the chapter was mostly dialogue but it's all plot development, I promise. The wolf on the cliffs comes from the game, something I never even noticed until my latest playthrough, thought it was interesting that Beckett was observing you right from the start effectively. I quite enjoy writing the dialogue between Romero and Kent, they have a funny like/hate relationship. Oh and as one of my beloved reviewers mentioned, the reasoning for Kent suddenly being loyal to Ariadne seems curious, well I promise all will be revealed in time. Rosa's dialogue is relevant and will come to light later. I quite liked the Thin-Bloods in the game, felt sorry for them but not enough to not send Copper to his doom and later kill Julius :-D.

Thanks for the reviews, favs and alerts, it is all very much appreciated!