Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Topgallant, I'm so glad you like Rob, I find him hard to write but I do enjoy his character. Glad you liked the new twist with Ariadne as well. Guest I've got a new job so I'm afraid after this chapter you probably will have to wait for the next one but I promise I shall do my best to keep the updates as regular as possible. Also, yeah Isaac can be a prick lol, he's a Toreador at heart unfortunately so he just couldn't help his rejection.

"Are you serious? It's all she has to show for this, her reward for what she suffered and you want to take it from her?"

I awoke to Romero's deadpan voice and sat up slowly. Had it all been a dream? I looked to my right hand and saw the Gangrel like claw, my right eye's vision was still distorted and as I stood I felt my left knee tremble and sink slightly. I wasn't in Kansas anymore then, time to find the wizard for some new body parts.

"She's going to give it to him," that was the irate tones of the poet.

"Yes, she always was," Romero answered sardonically.

I saw Rob close to the stairs, looking up at the sealed trapdoor and scowling as he listened in. I moved towards him and he immediately looked over with cautious grey eyes. His gaze slipped pointedly to my misshapen knee before looking back up to me. I knew what the Gangrel side of him thought; that I was weak, that I was better left to die otherwise I would drag him down too.

"Yes but to gain information for our benefit, do you think she'll do that now?" Kent demanded.

"Do you think she should?" Romero queried calmly.

"Careful now don't forget whose Ghoul you are just because you fucked her a few times," Kent snapped warningly.

Rob's eyes turned red and his claws expanded as he moved suddenly and quickly as Romero gave his biting retort. "You're always so elegant for a Toreador."

I hurried after Rob as he exploded up through the trapdoor, evidently considering opening it too much of a bother and pounced upon Kent with a snarl. The handsome Toreador had expected the attack however and dodged backwards with his handy Celerity. I watched Kent glimpse at me quickly before looking away, barely suppressing a shudder of disgust.

"That is my younger sister you are talking about," Rob snapped hatefully.

Kent sighed and folded his arms as he gave Rob a cool look. "She's not really," he replied calmly, "her name is Ariadne now, and who do you think has been minding her in your absence hmm?"

"Are you here for the key poet?" I queried calmly as I stared at him, daring him to meet my gaze but he couldn't.

"Well yes," he grumbled to Rob, "it's business you know, I shouldn't have let you leave with it." His last words were for Rob; he had carried it off in its box after all, and then given it to me to open before we had gone to slumber. It was close against my chest now in the pocket of a blue shirt nestling beside a yo-yo and a small spinning top that flashed and hummed when it spun.

"Did he send you?" I demanded.

"No, actually," he paused awkwardly and frowned, "he wants you to have it."

"A parting gift," I guessed. "I suppose I will no more be a movie star than the golden one," I mused, "ah well I still must find the gryphon's nest in Downtown and guess the Sheriff's name, hmm perhaps he is Rumpelstiltskin!"

I felt Rob giving me an odd look and wondered if he would follow me to Downtown, I was not Sarah after all; she was just another voice in my head, one of the few named ones.

"Look Malk, I know you're hurting even if you're going to pretend otherwise and act mad, and I know this is probably the last thing you need but we can't trust you with that key," Kent spoke to the floor.

"The floor is not a Malkavian," I commented coolly, "unless it hides it well. You never could trust me, could you?" I demanded as I glowered at Kent. "It was always your intention to take it because you don't want the Prince to have what was in the tomb!"

"Tomb?" Kent echoed suspiciously, again to the floor.

"Ah you're always a turncoat, you're the untrustworthy one! We built sandcastles!" I shrieked at him angrily. "You switch sides like a dice, first one number then another, first the Camarilla, then the Anarchs, never really the Malkavian though."

"It's not like that," Kent protested. "I did trust you Malk and I still do, I just think anger is going to cloud your judgement and that you're going to something stupid, something which can be prevented by you giving me the key."

"It is like that," I snarled, "did you secretly intend me to go to the mad, bloody tea party despite your attempts to stop me? Was it all a ruse, a cover? Did the number man will it? Is it him you'll do everything for now? He told you to spy on me again, Malk's on a mission for the Prince, chase her Commander Ryan, maybe the Baron intended to take the key too. The Anarchs are more twisted than the thorns about the sleeping beauty, there are many snakes in the apple tree."

"Firstly, I would never want anyone to go into a Sabbat den, not after what I suffered! Secondly, the Baron wants you to have the key," Kent argued, "and I would let you keep it too except you're angry now and bitter, because you hate that we are what we are and since it's something we cannot change, well why should you stay allied to us? Even though we still care, Isaac loves you but he is a Toreador." He sighed, gave me an uneasy glance and then turned his grim grey gaze onto a wall. "There is no reason for you to tell us what the Prince is up to, and there is no reason for you not to side with him except for self-perseverance, maybe you have at least learned not to trust him."

"He says he will pay me, he pays me, you say you won't betray me but you do, who is Pinocchio, Kent? I think he is Geppetto, and though your strings are severed your nose still grows."

Romero let out a small snicker whilst Rob looked at me wide eyed with his mouth slightly parted. Kent frowned and shook his head as he looked at me, though his grey eyes still would not meet my emerald stare. "Just give me the key Malk."

"I think you're alone soldier," I mocked him, "but I have claws." I raised my right hand and waggled my digits, grinning when he recoiled in displeasure. "You and the Baron, traitors both! I went to the death den for the jester but for the Baron too," I reached up with my claw and pawed at my ruined eye causing fresh blood marks to leak. "I hurt for the Baron, for the key, I was deformed so I could learn the Prince's desires but now I will not share. For the pain Isaac caused me I should do more." I lowered my hand and turned on Romero causing him to look back warily and grip his shotgun a little tighter. "I should rip his Ghoul to shreds, that will make him burn inside like I do."

"So now I'm just his Ghoul?" Romero retorted moodily with an offended olive gaze.

My gaze softened and I shook my head. "Not the crypt keeper," I murmured, "you are the only one who stays on my side. Isaac loved me but only when the squabbling children didn't hiss lies in his ears." I looked back at Kent who adamantly avoided my altered stare. "Only when the loyal troops didn't speak of mistrust and disgust was I loved. All my loyalties and deeds are forgotten now because I don't look pretty." I turned back to Romero with a wounded look. "Is the crypt keeper disgusted too? His tongue sides with me but do his eyes?"

"Riddles again, always fun with you crazy cat," Romero retorted kindly. "You're still a striking piece of ass if that's what you're asking."

I smiled even as Rob let out a very feral growl that had Romero's grip on his gun tightening even more.

Romero frowned a little. "Unfortunately the Baron...well..."

"He wants me gone and forgotten," I realised, "I am forbidden from all the beds of Hollywood." I scowled again. "Well he has other Ghouls to slaughter, if I must hurt so must he."

"Malk don't make threats, please," Kent said pleadingly. "You know we can't ignore them."

"Well actually I don't like the other guy," Romero commented brightly earning a glower from Kent. "He wears sunglasses even when it's night time, he's a prick."

I smiled faintly at this. "I meant to steal them for my collection," I mused, "now I will, the Baron saying no doesn't matter. But it won't be tonight, fear not poet. You have delayed me long enough, the Prince must have the key and the relic master must open the lock. I will no longer be your fool; don't think to join my quest under false pretences again."

"Ariadne look I...like you, there I said it, and I haven't gone running to Nines about the key and I won't, I promise. He will learn no more than he already knows about the matter, and you might want to remember that it was you who informed him you were going after it in the first place. This isn't about my trust in you, it's him, alright, that asshole cannot have the key, I don't know what it's for but if Beckett's involved, well it must be old and it's potentially powerful and I daresay it's not good."

For all his words Kent still kept his distance, yes, I was like the plague ridden bell ringer, must be avoided. "I got my body deformed for this!" I shrieked at him furiously. "I lost Isaac! I lost the Toreadors! I lost my home! You won't take it from me! YOU WON'T!" I felt tears prick at my eyes to my shame and heard Rob let out another growl. "I hurt for this, I earned it, feeble prize, but I will have it."

"Just let her have it," Romero spoke up in an annoyed tone, "if Isaac is alright with it you should be too. You're still being a good little soldier, obeying the Baron."

"That's not the point," Kent snarled quietly. "Ah shit, I don't want to upset you kid, I really don't, but I don't think you're seeing the bigger picture here. What if that key unlocks something that can turn the tables? Something that might lead to the Anarchs being wiped out, to Isaac being wiped out?"

"Good," I retorted childishly as pus seeped out of my right eye with a salty tear. "I suffered for this key, it's mine to give to the Prince and I will, I have to. Stop delaying me, it makes my head burn!"

"Alright fine," Kent snarled as he folded his arms, "but on your head be it. And just who are you going to go to Downtown with anyway?"

"Me," Rob answered quickly.

"Yeah that's a great idea, you go into the thick of the Camarilla Southland Slasher," Kent sneered.

"They don't know that's me," Rob argued in a snarl.

I looked at him painfully as I realised Kent was right. The masked men were everywhere, always watching, always listening and always reporting, and with my appearance what it was, well all eyes would be on us even as they tried to avoid my gross disfigurement. "They will figure it out," Kent argued.

"He's right," I agreed quietly.

Rob looked at me in surprise and shook his head. "Sarah I'm tough okay and they don't know, they don't. Look I have lost enough people, I won't lose you too, you're injured, and they will pick you off."

"Like a crippled lamb," I mused, "a golden lamb though while I have the key, and the prince will protect his golden fleece." I smiled at Rob reassuringly. "Downtown is his territory, I will be safe there, he will protect me." I glowered at Kent daring him to argue and though he tensed and scowled he held his tongue for a change.

"Sarah," Rob protested, "you're my little sister-"

"No Rob," I cut him off, "I am Ariadne now and I'm tough too. Tis only flesh wounds I have, the minds are still working. You are safest here, unless the Baron finds you ugly too," I added bitterly.

"Isaac said Rob has his protection," Kent spoke up, "he said it was the least he could do."

I bowed my head sorrowfully. "Then I will go to Downtown alone, me, myselves and us." I tried to smile but the tears were coming faster and my right eye was now clogged with pus. "Goodbye." I started to walk forward, if I just left now it would be alright, but my left leg betrayed me once more and I fell before Kent's expensive, polished, black shoes. I sensed him reach for me but then he hesitated and pulled back, too disgusted to risk touching my spoiled flesh.

"Well you're an asshole," Romero grumbled. I heard him approach to help but then he seemed to freeze and I turned to see him wince a little. "Ah shit," he cursed inelegantly. "Fucking blood bonds."

I really was alone. I stood before Rob could offer aid and forced myself to smile brightly at him, though it caused my jaw to ache. "Stay here Rob, please," I begged.

"Well where and when will I see you again?" he demanded.

"I'll come back," I lied, "after the key is given and the relic is found."

"You'll come back?" he queried doubtfully as he scrutinised me with his blue-grey stare. "To this place with these assholes?"

"I'm not being an asshole," Romero grumbled in annoyance, earning a red eyed glower from the Gangrel. "Well I'm not," the crypt keeper pointed out as he met the glower.

"For you Rob," I said softly, "I'll come back for you. Just have a good time, go see a movie, avoid the Gargoyle, watch for the gremlins in the sewers and don't feed on V.V's girls, it pisses her off." I turned from him once more and hurried out the door.

I limped, hopped and walked my way to a costume shop; unsurprisingly these were most common in the town of dead silver screen dreams. I hesitated at the Girl Scout, Indian and Snow Princess costumes and shook my head; they would not do for one with things to hide. I could feel the shopkeeper's gawking stare upon me and sent him into a light fit of giggles whilst I browsed. Trousers, oh how I loathed their dual yet singular nature, they could not decide if they were one thing or two things, yet necessary now to hide the knee. A long sleeved shirt to cover the bruises and yet healing cuts, my dark hair down to hide the bump on my head and gloves, thick, heavy gloves to keep the claw concealed. I put a pair on and frowned scornfully when the claws sliced through tips but in the dark of the night they were yet mostly invisible, for now it would do. I considered a mask, useful to blend with the Masquerade I supposed but I did not like masks, one never knew when a false identity might possess a real one. So I left my sunken eye exposed, not every mortal was perfect, my injuries would not cause Kine to think me Kindred, though they might yet mutter monster.

I did not pay, the judgemental shopkeeper did not deserve my coin and I was light without purse when I was without Kent. Instead I changed and hurried off; lingering on the polluted streets of fame was too painful. I was not surprised when the first taxi I came across had a familiar shady driver. He did not flinch or comment on my state, just asked 'where to' and then started driving when I instructed him to the town that was ever down.

I arrived tired and thirsty, knowing that even my voice of seduction could not disguise my looks I settled for a dirty bite down an alleyway instead. After a quick snack during which no visions of Sarah came but instead bitter memories of Miss Holly Wood I headed to the Ventrue Tower. At least here I might find reward for my efforts instead of rejection, though I suspected I still might receive disgust.

"Jelly doughnut, is that...is that you?" The fat one of authority regarded me nervously, staring at my eye too long.

"See doughnuts burst out of your stomach until you vomit and know the difference," I growled waspishly. I stepped through the metal detectors, grinning as the mermaid tear polish on my weapon prevented it from being detected. As I entered the elevator Chunk began to scream, I wondered if Sebastian would ever care to hear the yells and hoped not. The music was classical and fast, for lift journeys I preferred hard pounding techno music but to each their own. When it pinged I pounced out proudly and hurried into the Prince's large, handsome quarters.

"I have returned from peril and doom!"

The Sheriff eyed me warily, Beckett scrutinised me with his flashing red eyes and Sebastian's blue eyes widened slightly in revulsion, making me pause in hurt. "What happened to you?" the Prince queried bluntly.

"It looks like the work of the Sabbat," Beckett said sardonically, acknowledging that he was stating the obvious. "Woeful when one has to do dealings with them."

"Woeful indeed," I murmured darkly, "and annoying and painful and most peculiar." I beamed at Sebastian. "But sacrifices must be made for keys for rewards."

"Then you got the key?" Sebastian queried anxiously as he took a hesitant step towards me.

"Am I too ugly to present it and see reward?" I demanded as I folded my arms and paused in my skipping. "Or will the Prince accept the lock opener from his loyal servant and promise recompense?"

"Yes, yes," the blonde answered irritably, "you'll get your payment, just give Beckett the key."

I nodded happily and produced it from my shirt pocket. An old and formerly dusty thing of bone with a single red gem in its frame, I wondered curiously if it had once been a giant's finger or a penguin's mutated toe, it was such a puzzling shape for a bone. I handed it to Beckett who accepted it carefully and began to study it whilst La Croix looked to him anxiously and impatiently. After five long seconds he queried, "well? Will it work?"

"Not to be predictable," Beckett droned, "but there is only one way to find out." He carried it over to the relic, which was resting on tissue paper on La Croix's large, mahogany table. He picked it up with care, turned it over and placed the key slowly into the appropriate slot.

"What if it is a trap?" I pondered curiously. "Tick tock then kaboom!"

Beckett paused and La Croix scowled at me before whipping his head to the Gangrel nervously. The shady eyed wolf gave a small chortle before turning the key. "I think I would pick up on such a trap, forgive me if I consider my years of experience to be useful in this case," he murmured as the lid popped open. He sat the relic down, opened his satchel and produced a pair of tweezers; with these he delicately lifted a piece of worn, thin, golden paper from the relic.

"A scroll of directions," I mused, "this way and that, all ways are the queen's!"

Beckett unrolled the tiny scroll, pinning one corner with the tweezers, the other with a paperweight and the other two with his own gloved hands. I wondered if he had claws to hide and if perhaps we were now furry kin. "You are most perceptive, but then that is the curse of your kind, method in madness, and madness in method," Beckett commented.

La Croix rushed to Beckett's side, leaning close to study the paper. "It's torn," he lamented.

"Yes, it is only a fragment, and an old one at that but I recognise these landmarks, this is Hellas."

"Ah of philandering Zeus!" I cried out.

"What?" Sebastian queried as he gave me a dubious look. "Ugh," he winced, "your eye is leaking, doesn't that hurt?"

"Are you concerned my Prince?" I queried hopefully. "Or merely worried for stains on the golden carpet?"

"A bit of both," he muttered scornfully before turning his cold blue eyes back on the scroll. "What is it a map to?" he demanded.

"Well, these letters are ancient Greek and though they're faint, I believe this word says 'rest', someone's rest but unfortunately that name has faded. Thus we can assume it indicates a tomb."

"A tomb?" Sebastian rasped. "Ah, probably of a king or something, right?"

"With fangs and a bleeding crown," I mused, earning another questioning look from the blonde.

"Most likely, maybe not even so important, yet I would speculate not necessarily Greek in origin. The relic itself, a Noddist relic as we know, comes from a more ancient origin. Its purpose was not originally to hold this scroll."

"So the two aren't connected?" Sebastian queried.

"I would not say that," Beckett retorted, "it would require more studying and perhaps a venture to this tomb. Although," he paused and his red eyes flashed my way before he continued dryly, "I wonder how coincidental the raiding of a tomb near Athens was."

"Recent raiding? How barbaric," Sebastian sneered, a little too quickly, "by whom?"

So keen for knowledge and other things, the voices whispered of a bloodstained chessboard, and of bones buried shallow with sharp teeth. "It casts a crooked shadow," they murmured.

"I don't know," Beckett confessed, "someone rich, powerful and with an interest in history or, and again one wonders at the coincidences at play, perhaps a more unnatural interest. You see, the tomb came here, maybe it's how the Sabbat found this relic and its key."

"Do the mad bone benders have it?" I asked.

"If they do we can assume it opened and desecrated," Beckett replied deprecatingly, "they do have a rather fond obsession with antediluvians, seem to think they're going to pop up in every coffin and sarcophagus."

"Nonsense of course," La Croix dismissed.

"Indeed," Beckett agreed, "these are the kind of ridiculous, superstitious assumptions I came here to debunk."

"Then why does the Prince want a chase for the dead container?" I pondered.

Sebastian's look was icy and his frown scornful. "I have reason to believe that in the wrong hands this could cause trouble and if word got out about its existence, well certain Kindred would jump to the wrong conclusions and anarchy would break out. Quite simply, this needs found before it becomes public knowledge."

"I will not fetch," I said boldly, "I have yet no reward for my deformed troubles."

"Where would you begin anyway?" Beckett asked. "I have leads, but they are thin, I will follow them though, if only to debunk yet another myth."

"And report them to me?" La Croix questioned anxiously. Now why did the Prince not demand of the wolf but instead begged?

"I will let you know what I find," Beckett answered grudgingly. "Now, the dawn will soon be here, I must depart for another day."

"Will you take the Malkavian with you?" La Croix asked. "As a precaution?"

Beckett looked at me with interest. "Normally I work best alone but in this case her unique foresight could be useful. Allow me a few evenings alone first to gather my research, I suspect our tomb raiders Kine in origin rather than Kindred, strange as it seems with the relic in Kindred hands."

"Ah are they amply chested with plaits?" I wondered.

"I should think not but who knows?" Beckett answered politely. "Now, good evening, I will return in four nights."

"Good night Beckett," La Croix responded courteously.

I waved as he walked towards the doors and called, "sweet dreams of girls in red."

He gave me a sardonic, forced laugh in answer before he left us.

"Must you bend like that?" La Croix asked me irritably. I was leaning on my right leg for support as my left ached and refused to straighten.

"The Tzimisce tinkered with my parts," I explained woefully.

His blue eyes widened a fragment but I did not spy concern within them. "The price of dealing with the Tzimisce I suppose," he commented carelessly.

"The price of aiding a Prince," I replied darkly.

"Well if you're not up to it," he began smugly until my eyes turned angrier, "that is...you've done well," he spluttered, "but if your injuries are going to plague you...well..."

"I will see the task of the crowned undead through," I said confidently. "I have no other tasks to distract my spurned minds."

"Right, well that's good to hear, admirable willpower."

I took a step towards him and heard the Sheriff take a step towards me. "Might we feed this time?" I asked hopefully. "One little blood bite, and then a lonely slumber. Does the Prince bunk in his office or down below in a royal coffin?"

"That is not your concern," he murmured, "but as for supper, well it's late but I suppose..." He paused and frowned pointedly at my eye again. "Well if it's what you want," he said grudgingly.

"I want my Prince to not spite me for my features; I am not as hideous as the boil coated sewer dwelling allies. I want my services and loyalty recognised by someone, else my efforts are pointless and my confused existence questionable. Share a feed with me highness, prove yourself above physical disgust."

"Is that it?" he questioned in annoyance. "You think I'm going to dismiss your services because of your eye? Only if it affects your service, not because of my personal opinions, of which I have none. The appearance of other Kindred does not concern me; I am not cursed with the vanity and shallowness of a Toreador. Yes I pride myself on appearance but I am not driven by it."

"Then the looks of a dark haired poet did not help any past relations?"

"Pardon?" La Croix's gaze hardened and turned threatening.

Ah had I not promised Kent my silence? But then had he not sworn loyalty to me? "Can we feed together then?" I asked innocently.

His frown did not vanish but he nodded. "Yes," he snapped before walking over to his intercom and pressing a button. "Miss Green could you come in for a moment?" He summoned supper.

In reference to Isaac's other Ghoul it's the guy who greets you when you first arrive in Hollywood and then proceeds to bug the hell out of you if you don't go to Isaac. If you kill him you can mention it to Isaac who doesn't give a rat's ass, which makes me think the Ghoul was kind of a prick to everyone :-)