King's Way, the house was a grand building, big enough to house ten people and their servants I guessed though I suspected it had belonged to much fewer. I had to struggle over a large iron fence to gain entry to the property and earned several scratches for my pains. The windows were foiled up instead of boarded up, ah celebrities, always so eccentric. I headed up the small set of cement steps to the white double doors, split into numerous glass panes. Locked of course with foil and tape behind them, I could try breaking through but I decided a nice little wander first would be wise and potentially interesting.

The pool was disappointingly empty, rust and dead leaves now, it would probably never be used; even when the rain fell no animals would stray into it. Only flies came here, buzzing by the blood and flesh, I could hear them through the walls. I did a perimeter of the lower grounds of the house before scaling up the ivy leaves like the rebellious student returning from a date. Upstairs I found a sliding door ever so slightly ajar, an invite or a mistake? A welcome to the bloody tea party Alice, change places and be sure not to lose your head. I pushed it open quietly, stepped in and almost salivated at the stench of blood within.

Some of the flesh, blood and bones were quite fresh; I was even certain I could still hear hearts beating and lungs breathing, though faintly, but some were sticky and spoiled, blackening under the flickering, stained lights. I had mere seconds to realise I was not alone before a wooden door to my left shattered and an abomination sprang through with a chattering snarl.

I jumped back and tugged out my sword, ah how glad I was that the undead poet had bought me such a fine weapon! I swung outwards at the yapping, bald beast and sliced across its beady, red eyes. Must be quicker! It moved swift on its two overgrown hands like a spider, dodging my next blow before slicing at my lower right leg with its claws.

"Bad beastie!" I scolded. "See the vision of death!"

It gave a low groan and staggered slightly in a daze before I struck out, turning it into glittering embers and ash. I tutted scornfully before looking about the room, it certainly took modern art to the next level. There were two chairs made of bone and stretched and beaten flesh, a bloodstained bed of wood, bone, twisted decorations of flesh and worst of all, duck patterned bed sheets. I recoiled from them and hastened to the door, this was not the hiding place of the key.

The walls groaned as I scarpered down a staircase of flies, wood, and webs of thinned flesh encased in twisted roots of bone that grew down from the ceiling. This was indeed a building of snuff, how well suited for seedy Hollywood. I sniffed the air but there was no odour of ancient relics. Close though, keep going, playing hide and seek with the gingerbread men, the treasure is well hidden with the frog tongues.

The kitchen's walls had been stained pink with dribbles of black; only the fridge and the lights were turned on, humming in tune with the flies. The microwave was missing its door and the oven was dented and the wall above it burnt black. I crept up to the fridge and opened it suspiciously, it was so often the chamber of coin but alas it was empty. Another snarl and I was ambushed again, this time by two of the large headed beasts. When was I going to learn to use Auspex more? One jumped at me from behind, pushing me forwards as its friend leaped from the right. I hit the ground, struck upwards with my right elbow to prevent a burrowing of teeth in my skull, rolled to the right and stood up. I showed them visions of madness, bats with bulbs for eyes, singing dolls with pumpkin heads and the terrible burning of the sun. I drove them to berserk, had them looking at each other treacherously before I cut them down. Sink the blade down as if through butter, beautiful, soft, bloody butter and cut, cut. Chop up even slices now, must be fair. They turned into embers and ash too soon, their horrid forms obliterated with their illegal lives.

Children of the Tzimisce, it meant the Tzimisce had to be here, and thus the Sabbat and surely the key. Was this merely a Sabbat den or the Sabbat den? Well they weren't exactly subtle so I supposed they couldn't go unnoticed if there were too many of them. I crouched low and gave into Ofuscate as I crept down another flight of stairs. Past more blood and rot, it was tempting and nauseating at the same time. I was growing thirsty, my disciplines had worn me down, I needed to replenish. I licked my lips and continued on, find the key, take it and burn everything. So easy, too easy. Beware, the walls are murmuring, hear the cries of agony? Yes I did, very real cries of torture, and then I saw. Romero and Kent's memories, now a reality for other poor Kine and Kindred alike. The basement was a torture chamber, a laboratory and a treasure vault all in one. An unobtrusive wooden box against the wall, it had a padlock, and a bloodstained sheet to hide under but I was not fooled.

Creep forward them, past the wailing victims, don't get distracted, his highness will not tolerate distractions. Keep going, I could hear the key whispering to me, almost inaudible over the screams and groans, almost but not quite. Always want to feel gratitude, always seeking praise and approval, never got it from mummy and daddy, didn't get it from the reluctant rebel either. A pat on the head, a star and trust. Yes, that fragile, beautiful thing. There was a voice on the web, loud, clanging and desperate, it knew the essence on the key, knew the secret behind the relic. It shrieked, it missed the others; it was so alone without them, even on the crowded web.

"I see strange footprints of blood."

Those words were my late clue to my folly; my boots had stepped into a puddle and left a telltale sign. I had no time to react, there were too many of them, forming a circle about me. Their leader, prominent in red, with an oblong grey head and a mouth so eager to ask for my leader or his spaceship, struck out with wave of blood from his palm. I was soaked and thus revealed. I grinned, swung out with my sword and sent out all the madness I could. They responded with more blood, claws, fangs, and some more misshapen minions to bite and beat at me. Strong as I was I was only the legion in mind; they were the legion in reality. The many monsters of the night, a horrid dream that would not end.

It took a while before I was overcome but eventually I staggered down from pain and exhaustion and they subdued me then, binding me down to a metal table with strong cuffs of metal.

"Now," their leader addressed me in a voice that sounded oddly familiar, "you were sneaking so I can assume you didn't want a confrontation but what did you want? Maybe you're here by accident but then my minions should have put you off and you are armed. A Malkavian mind but even in your kind's madness there is a purpose."

I grinned up at his misshapen head and queried, "do you hide an egg in your skull?" For a beast out of one's nightmares he was surprisingly well dressed with a long, heavy, red coat almost like a posh nightgown, a white shirt and a red cravat. Well I suppose it was good to wear red when one might risk bloodstains on one's clothes.

"Ah squirming larva of the mad ones, tell me child, are you scared? Do I frighten you?" he demanded as his orange eyes flared down at me.

"Oh no," I assured him, "I try not to judge people on their exteriors, but then I guess we have that in common." I glanced about at the victims and corpses around me, straining my neck as I did. The key was so tantalising close, damn you blood prints, I was betrayed by own boots! Well I would burn them later for the treachery.

He laughed appreciatively. "I'm certain we will make good use of your exteriors and interiors," he said. "Now tell me child of Malkav, why are you here?"

"A tape," I lied happily. "A stereotypical horror in a monster house, naturally with a hysterical female lead. I'd grade it D, don't think it will become a cult hit but fret not."

He laughed again. "Oh yes, the "tape". Merely a test. So the tape drove you to find me then."

I nodded eagerly. "Indeed, why did you make your horror? Was it to frighten Kine under the bedsheets?"

"No, it was not intended to fall into mortal hands," he answered swiftly, "rather to gouge out the eyes of the Camarilla. The sewers are clogged with my creations; I'll kill or drive the Nosfertau from their pestilent nest. Without the sewer rats to guide them, the Camarilla will be blind to the Sabbat's designs."

"Hmm," I looked up at him curiously, "just one question then, do you expect me to talk?" I queried. "Where's the laser beam huh and your cute white kitty?"

"I think you have been in Hollywood too long," he answered with a smidgen of mockery in his voice, "no matter. I do not think we will use your mind, it would be too tricky to control, but your body and your gifts, yes they could be useful. I think we will give you the head of one of the disgusting Kine, then some wolf traits, wolves are certainly strong, I would even offer you werewolf if we had one."

"No thanks, I like my parts were they are, it's my minds that I allow to scatter and shift," I answered perkily.

"Ah but you can be one of my blessed creatures, I coax bone, weave flesh, and lace sinew tight until it strains to lash out!"

"You torture and mutilate people, tomato, tomatoe," I retorted bluntly, a little tired now with his bragging.

"I am culling," he boasted, "the unwanted are my victims, Kine and Kindred, they are of as little consequence to authority as they are to me. Illegals, mongrels, half bloods, and caitiff; the bane of society, criminals, the unwanted and unmissed."

"Well I guess you don't want me then," I suggested, "because I will be missed, by the Baron and the Prince."

He chortled dryly. "The Baron and the Prince? What a novel idea that they would like the same Kindred for all their bitter quarrel, doubtful that you would be so important to either of them. No, I imagine that is probably a lie or a delusion of your many minds. Enough, I will reshape you into something useful, an engine of Cainite fury!"

So the Tzimisce had no eyes on the Anarchs or Camarilla then, well it is hard to spy on someone when you're busy kidnapping and mutilating Kine and Kindred, blowing up buildings, slaughtering on the streets and generally doing everything you can to say 'Lookez Over Here I Is A Monster!'

I felt then what I suspected Romero had briefly tasted, a shifting of my innards, my blood boiling, burning me from within, my bones bending, starting to break and push against my skin, twisting and turning it in an unnatural fashion.

Pain. There are many kinds of pain in the world- long, short, sharp, dull, physical, mental, burning, cold, bloody, bruising, bearable, unbearable and then this. It was the worst I had known, at least the worst my minds remembered. It was fire, it was ice, it was long and sharp in places, slow and stiff in others. None of my minds could deal with it, in a panic they scattered about my brain, losing focus, trying to deaden themselves to escape the pain. The Sabbat were not quick though, ah had the crypt keeper not warned me? The Sabbat wanted you to suffer, had the poet not explained that?

Oh the Prince would be so disappointed with me, a failure, not worth trust, not worth responsibilities, no news for Isaac to redeem the hurts my presence had caused him, no chance to finally stand out as less of a pest and more of a brave Kindred worthy to be an ally. I was brave, I was tough, I was worth having, wasn't I? Or were Nines, V.V and Ash right? Seemed all the Anarchs loathed me, so then to the Camarilla with success. Oh I couldn't keep the plot straight anymore, not with this pain distracting me. Who was friend and who was foe? Who was wrong and who was right?

Get the key, a simple goal. Get the key, give it to LaCroix, be rewarded, stay for information, find the knowledge of the relic with Beckett, yes, yes, a clear goal. Must find the knowledge, a storm ahead, danger, too many spoils for one Kindred to claim, too much advantage to be gained.

I heard a snarl and saw limbs of light snapping through the air. My cuffs were wrenched off and I met the amber eyes of a wolfman, now this was a beast whose company I would welcome. "Sarah!" he growled before whirling to claw at the furious Tzimisce.

I had to help, had to move, oh how handy celerity would be, well dementation instead then. I sat up, my vision was blurred, my body felt lopsided and my limbs refused to cooperate. My skull seemed misshapen, I reached up my right hand and found my fingers longer and grey, the nails sharpened like claws. I touched at my skull tentatively with the hand and felt a protruding lump beneath my hair on the right side of my brow, and my eye with a large, bloody welt down it. My skull was cracked like a jigsaw!

Claws slashing from the right drew me back into focus! An uneven battle between four Tzimisce, three Gangrel, six abominations and myself. The Gangrel who would be my rescuer was caught between fighting their leader and another Gangrel whilst two abominations snarled and worried at his large feet. There was no time to be caught up in reflection of this rescuer; I had to find some strength and fight! I cast out hysteria and hallucinations, and seized my chance to spring for my discarded sword. I snatched it with my left, finding my claws too large and clumsy, and swung quickly and deeply into the torso of a screeching head, or was it simply just a head without a torso? Vile creatures, back to Hades with them then! Another swing and it was ash but I had no time to savour victory, a Tzimisce was coming at me. I swung at her, at least I thought it was her, but she dodged. Suddenly there were bats flying at me, then in me, burrowing through my ruined flesh and sucking out my blood. Dizzy, I stumbled as they returned the blood to their master. I felt teeth sink into my neck as I raised my left hand to send the female Tzimisce berserk.

Out of the corner of my left eye I saw the leader, vanishing into blood pools only to reappear at a different point in the room. Quite a neat trick I wondered dumbly if his body was but an illusion of blood. It made him quick and kept him mostly safe from Rob's claws. Poor Rob, came here to escape the Sabbat and had somehow ended up straight in with them. Did I draw everyone to trouble? Was I such a wicked magnet?

I kicked back at my Gangrel attacker, turned and slashed his face with my sword. Rob yelled, or was it howled? I turned and moved, a spectral wolf tried to pull me back by my shins but I broke free. Blood soaked me; bits of bone jagged into me and then came the swarm of insects. The buzzing was my only warning, I had seconds before the devoured me and I lost my chance to help Rob. Sarah's brother, my brother, Rob Grey, the Southland Slasher, multi-identities just like me, confused just like me and so loyal too it seemed. Had to save him. The key! Fuck the key!

I screamed as I burrowed the sword up to its hilt in the Tzimisce's back before he ripped Rob's wolfish head from his furry body. He tensed up with a hiss of pain but I knew it was not enough. This naughty Kindred had played Frankenstein for too long, he had evolved beyond basic flesh wounds. "Run Rob," I said as I felt my hands go slick with blood as the insects came in for the kill.

My vision turned black as my ears were clogged with buzzing. Some of the voices screamed, others hummed and along the web one shrill voice bellowed in words too old and strange for me to understand. So close to Kindred, so close to the familiar and almost forgotten, so alone for so long, it made one mad. Tiny teeth were gnawing at my flesh, trying to reach the bone, I was too gone to hurt though, my mind was nothing but red stars and strobe lights of the brightest purple. I hungered desperately for the blood, only final taste before I turned to embers, just one last lick to ease the passing. Was Rob safe? Would Sebastian forgive me? Would he care or consider me a replaceable failure just like Kent? Most importantly, would Isaac forgive me for deserting him so finally?

"Well fuck."

I smiled at the words through the buzzing; one could always trust the rebellious Toreador to find the right thing to say. At that point the thirst consumed me and everything became red. I could hear pulses pounding, most faint and failing but a few still beat with eagerness. I moved through the redness to silence them, and delighted when I found wounds open and waiting for me. Some blood tasted bitter, some was thick like oil but eventually I found some unpoisoned, fresh and warm. I gnawed to get at it, burrowing my head like a starved crocodile into a zebra's stomach. When I found a heart I crunched down on it eagerly, and only voice quietly protested in my minds as the flesh squelched and pissed out blood into my mouth.

I felt cold hands upon me and fought against them, their grasp turned tight and I began to kick. "Don't start Malk; let's just get the fuck out of here."

"Rob," I mumbled, "the key, the bodies, the voices screaming."

"Rob's fine, fuck the key and fuck the bodies and the voices too."

I could hear groans and pleas all around us, victims still half-existing, but my vision was still too tinged in red to see their state. I continued to fight against Kent; there was a new tingling in the air, it made the clanging voice scream down the web again. He made my skull hurt, I had to get the key, and then he would be silenced. "The key to the box is in the box, the box to the key," I ranted as I strained against Kent's grasp. "Under the bloodied bedsheet, tucked up without a night time story, forgotten for the mutilations. No use without the box, they don't need it, I need it."

Kent gave me a rough shake before releasing me. "Where's the box?" he demanded, his voice heightened with nerves. "Damnit, where?"

"What's the delay?" Was that dearest firespawn's voice? Ah but he would never come unless...

I whirled about; confused over priorities I let instinct guide me to another bleeding body. Yes, feed and recover first, then untangle the madness in this house. Were we safe? Could anyone really be safe in this den? I could still hear the buzzing of thirsting, bloated flies and the terrible groans and moans for mercy, release and death.

"I've got the box, course it's sealed but we'll open it later," Kent said gruffly.

I saw him at last, unkempt for a Toreador he could not hide his fear, his grey eyes rolled about wildly and his form was tense. In his hands he held a box that tingled madly; yes there was a treasure within, a key to secrets, answers, the forbidden, the forgotten and a terrible reckoning. I reached for it but the poet used his speed to evade me. "Outside now," he commanded firmly.

I turned to obey and saw Ash hurrying up the stairs in a blur. "Where is the Baron?" I queried. "Where is Rob? The poet did not come along," I murmured. I was still sore and when I started to walk I found my movements awkward, my left leg felt swollen and when I glanced down I found it disjointed, the knee swollen, bruised and bent too much to the left. I hobbled upwards, wincing and marvelling as my right hand's claws sank through the fragile banister. I considered raking swirly shapes but I had to prioritise, yes get my many thoughts in order. My right eye was still a little out of focus; it seemed sunken, making my sight through it somewhat smaller and further away. Was I spying through Alice's looking glass now? Was that it? This was but a darker reflection of things.

It took an age for me to make it upstairs and out of the house of horrors, and naturally Kent grumbled and cursed the whole way. When I escaped it was not to a greeting party of rescuers though, just dearest Rob who was licking a bloodied left arm. He glanced up at us with mistrustful grey eyes, which widened when they spied me. "What the hell did they do to you?" he wondered.

"My head is fuzzy," I complained, "and burning. I have the key though," I looked back at Kent sulkily, "well almost. Let me have the key, then rest. Yes, with the Baron."

Kent, to my annoyance, held out the box to Rob instead. "You carry this," he ordered, "and I'll carry her."

Rob looked at the box and then back up to Kent with an unimpressed glower. "What is that and where do you plan on going? I thought this place was safe," he grumbled.

"It is unless you chose to wander into a Sabbat den," Kent answered with a pointed look my way. "Look just take the box and follow me, we're not safe here."

Rob obeyed and before I could protest or snatch the box, Kent seized me up with both hands and started carrying me sideways in his arms, though his grip felt stiff and thick with reluctance. "Don't you dare struggle," he warned me, "you're weak, tired, and injured, and I'm pissed and sore, it's not a good combination."

"Was the Baron here?" I queried. "Firespawn would not come willingly and there were so many foes in the dungeon. We did not win the boss battle though, he left, most disappointing."

"Though it's pointless saying, you're nuts," Kent answered me.

"And you're evasive," I snapped back.

We did not have far to travel, over the gate, down the hill to the main road and there a yellow cab was waiting. "How is the yellow carriage always so handy?" I pondered as Kent fumbled for the door and bundled me into the backseat.

"The Golden Age jewellers," Kent requested as Rob climbed in and shut the door.

"Certainly."

Same cabbie with those suspicious shades and odd, purplish aura, did he have numerous twins or clones? Had his taxi the gift of celerity? Maybe all just a clever disguise, a joke amongst all taxi men, or a conspiracy. Our drive was silent and swift, during it my skull continued to pound, my knee shifted of its own accord beneath the flesh and my right eye ached and blurred. I felt a burning down my face, across my chest and along my back; there were wounds there, gouges that had yet to begin healing.

"Dead Prometheus reshaped the clay," I murmured as the taxi stopped.

Kent paid hastily and bustled me out, down an alleyway and up to the familiar glittering paned, wooden door. He reached past me to the open door and when it was open I hurried in. My leg would not co-operate though, and I wondered if one of my minds had drifted down to nest in the deformed limb. "Obey," I snapped down at it as I stumbled forward.

"Didn't you say it was her personality that you loved?" That was Romero's dry voice.

"No one could love that," Ash sneered.

"I do," I heard my Baron groan, "but it was too hard looking at... It was not her, a disfigured monster; it could not have any kind of beauty about it."

"Well now I knew you guys were shallow," Romero grumbled with an angry edge to his voice, "but really Isaac, think about who you're talking about."

"You didn't see her," Ash snapped, "or it rather, the ugliest thing I've ever seen. It would burn through your mortal mind."

"Really?" Romero retorted sardonically.

Ah I had to be mishearing, acoustics tampered by the walls or perhaps the mischievous fey were simply making me hear bad words. I made for the doors to the living room that held the Baron and felt Kent restraining me once more. "Malk," he began awkwardly, "look, er..."

"He's not lying Romero," Isaac answered. "She was so lovely too, my sweet, beautiful Ariadne but that was not her we saved, it couldn't have been. No, just another abomination, a monstrous mistake of the Sabbat's," his voice almost broke and he paused, perhaps to compose himself. "Oh I failed her; I should have restrained her better, kept her from that place, now she's gone."

"She's not gone," that was gentle Alex's voice, "you saved her didn't you?"

"No, merely her ruined remains," Isaac answered sorrowfully.

I felt myself trembling, this was a joke, a prank of the fey's, but not truth surely. I looked to Kent and spied the revulsion in his grey eyes as he purposely avoided looking back at me. "Tell me Toreador; is beauty in the eye of the beholder?" I demanded. "Or is there only a beast there?"

"They mutilated you," Kent answered softly, "you can't see it and you won't, the curse of Kindred, no soul means no reflection. It's a blessing now for you I suppose but we can still see what they've done."

"And what have they done?" I queried calmly. "An unwanted facelift? Surgery gone too far?"

"Won't it heal?" Rob questioned gruffly.

Kent gave a human sigh and shrugged uneasily. "I don't know, it's not an injury, it's an alteration."

"What?" Rob demanded. "But..."

"Am I to go to the sewers?" I queried bitingly. "Shall I conceal myself behind a mask?" My voice grew shriller. "Maybe lure a princess with a rose to break the curse? Is it too much for the Toreadors now? First my minds cause trouble, now my face; everything is a problem for the rebels!"

"Ariadne," I heard Alex address me gently as he reached for me. I wanted to recoil but even a false Toreador's grasp was better than none at all. He was behind me though, unable to see my disfiguration, probably a deliberate choice on his part.

"Isaac?" I croaked. "I'm still me, all the mes." I shrugged off Alex and turned, looking for Isaac. The living room doors were open but I could only see a disgusted Ash and sympathetic Romero. Alex let out a gasp of horror as he glimpsed me but I ignored him and walked to the living room. When I stumbled and fell the expected cold embrace of the Baron did not come. I looked to him with hate but his gold eyes would not meet mine. In them I saw tears glisten and it made dampness come to my own stare. "I got the key," I croaked, "I survived them, please reward me for that. Please be relieved that I'm still here and not embers."

"I would rather you had not survived than you were suffering so," Isaac answered sombrely.

"Isaac," Romero snapped, "you're being ridiculous. Let go of your Toreador prejudices, this is still the crazy vampire that you love."

"Maybe it was never love," Ash commented rudely, "just a delusion of it."

"No," Isaac spoke up harshly, "don't say that. I did love her; I still do but this..." He shook his head. "I cannot even look at you Ariadne, it's too much for me, it pains me too deeply to see what you have become."

"Well it pains me to feel it," I snapped back childishly as I stood at last. "Maybe I did pick the wrong leader, at least Sebastian isn't shallow, he works with Nosferatu! Am I as ugly as the sewer dwellers? Maybe even the prince won't have me, though for his key I think he will! You all dismiss and mistrust me, now another excuse, another reason to cast me out!"

"Don't speak so hastily," Alex cautioned me, "you know your loyalties are to the Anarchs. Do not go to that arsehole because of this."

"He's right," Kent argued, though even he could not quite look at me, "the Prince is a snake, don't forget that Malk. Look, this...this is sudden and difficult to deal with, for all of us. Let's just take some time, we all need to feed and rest."

"And where should I rest?" I demanded. "In the sewers? In the zoo?" I looked at Isaac again. "May I assume your coffin closed to me?"

"I...What has he done to you?" Isaac lamented. "To us? The Sabbat poison everything, no one is ever truly saved from their clutches, we should have protected you better."

"Look I don't what's going on," Rob spoke up angrily, "except that you are being assholes to my sister. Let's just get out of here Sarah, you said to come here and I did but I don't think this place is safe for either of us."

"Sister?" Alex remarked in surprise.

"You can both stay in my shack," Romero offered. "I'll let you have the keys." He glanced at the Baron, half-daring him to protest and half-fearful that he would.

Isaac frowned but said nothing. I was cast out, too ugly now for the vain Toreadors, all that was between us forgotten over appearances. The way I made Isaac smile, my unique minds, my pretty thoughts, my quirky remarks that eased his stress, my open, easygoing way with him that no one else had, all forgotten because his nature drove him to loathe me now. "The Toreadors lose many ugly allies," I commented bitterly, "perhaps it will be worth it when they still look beautiful as they are destroyed."

Happy Halloween! Andrei is such an ass :-) Also, I don't know if Kindred officially don't have reflections but in this fanfic they don't, seems like the ultimate punishment for Toreadors to never see themselves. I guess I'm trying to delve deeper into the traits of the Kindred, I imagine no matter how sweet you are to a Toreador if you still have a Nossie's face they don't wanna know.