You already know I don't own shit. Except my OC's. Enjoy my alternate retelling of Bloodlines... if anybody ends up reading this. I've taken some liberties with ghosts/wraiths/spirits, as I know very little about them. I have also taken some liberties with Thin-bloods and other certain concepts. Between all the articles I've read and forum boards I've gone through for clarification on things my feeling is there are some things in VTM that are solidified and a lot of other ones that have fallen to that problem of inconsistency due to multiple mediums, author's and new editions that comics tend to suffer from. So liberties for some things. Ex: Thaumaturgy. I'll probably mix and match things. Anyway, enjoy the story.
CHAPTER 1 Beginning of The End
It is a world of darkness. The sin of Caine has spawned the cursed horror that stalks the night in search of living blood. The Kindred have long been a secret influence through all ages of human history, plotting against each other in a never ending Jyhad. Their immortal progeny are among us to this day, hidden from the eyes of humanity, by an elaborate Masquerade.
L.A County September 21st 2004 10:30PM
The day was wet with the smell of rain water and a bleak, cloud covered sky, casting darkness over the earth. The L.A. Streets were mostly empty save for a few of the denizens of the night. You've got the usual, down on their luck drunk, drowning in their sorrow. Club goers trying to make the most of their lives while they were still young. Some less then pleasant individuals, whom of which would shoot you for crossing to their side of the street. Of course, the ones with out a shelter to call home, trying to bundle up and survive another cold, unforgiving night on the streets of East L.A.
I was someone who enjoyed the day but was drawn to the night. I would find myself up late more often then not, losing track of time on some project of mine. Tonight was no different. I wasn't a drunkard, don't really care for alcohol much, nor an addict or a clubber. I definitely didn't belong to any gangs, not that I hadn't been friends with people with connections before, just never officially joined any of them. I also wasn't homeless, although technically I didn't live anywhere specific. I was always on the move, a drifter with nothing better to do then chase ghosts.
Not a metaphor so much as it is truth. When I say I can see ghosts... well, think like Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz. I had read the book a year prior, I liked it quite a bit actually. If I hadn't known any better, Koontz was somehow spying on me. Reality is my sight works differently from Odd's. Or maybe it's not that, maybe it's that the dead in reality are much different to how Koontz imagined them in his book. One of the first things I remember Odd saying in the book was that the dead don't talk or can't. He's never heard them speak. That's the first difference I'd point out between me and the line cook.
It's not so cut and dry, sorry for that one I couldn't resist. No, it's more complicated then that, I had come to know that some ghosts, or wraiths, were capable of materializing in our physical plane. To be viewed by others and when they did such a thing they had limited influence on their environment. It's my understanding, from what I've gleamed in my 33 years of life, that wraiths can sometimes project a message, but it's not always with their voice, in fact I've never been sure if I was hearing their voice in my head or they were actually some how making sound. Either way, other methods were scratching words on to walls and yes they could manipulate a Ouija board.
Despite them materializing to be viewed by other people, I have been the only one I've met who could see them even when they didn't do such things. I didn't always see them, it appeared I had an ability to peer beyond the shroud, but only in a limited manner. I hadn't the slightest idea if that was because I was constantly surrounded by spirits and my mind wouldn't have been stable with that information if I could constantly see it.
Enough prattling, we'll go down that rabbit hole further in down the line of this tale. Let's bring our attention to the mission I had set myself on.
As I said before I travel a lot. In the military it was all over, but now it's mostly North America, specifically Canada and the States. Old war buddies claimed I read too many Jack Reacher novels, but to hell with that. I just wanted to get out of the sandbox. Worst time in the military was over there. So, I retired early, had some good investments so I live a minimalist life that allowed me to travel around the two countries I had fought for and with. Sold everything, and just left. Which honestly, made for sometimes interesting times encountering ghosts in places I had never been and had nothing but free time on my hands to free from their prison on our plane. So eventually I ended up here in L.A.
A few days ago I had rolled into downtown L.A on a bus, I had read there was an increased number of missing persons cases mounting up all over the county, but mostly focused downtown. That, and there were strange murders that seemed to resemble the murders I had first come across, in Glendale. There wasn't any apparent link to either case, but honestly you never know with this sort of thing. Besides the murders seemed unnatural, and as far as I knew at that point there were the living and ghosts that could kill, and I'd never seen a ghost rip anyone to shreds before. So naturally I figured I'd check it out and see if there was something new for me to discover.
I took my time, asking around about the missing persons case. Asking about murders when you're new in town is a little weird. Eventually I linked up with the most recent victim's family. The Mullen's were a Middle-class family, doing alright for themselves, modest home, just them and their 21 year old daughter, Amy. Until Amy went missing 2 days before I got there.
According to her parents she wasn't the kind to lay down and take shit from anyone, she was determined, and not afraid to speak her mind. Apparently she backed it up with a black belt in Karate and various levels of knowledge in Juijitsu and judo. Apparently she was an over achiever. She was out with her friends one night, and ended up being the designated driver. However, she never made it home.
Last person to see her was the last stop before home the night she went missing. So, I followed the trail. Starting at her friends apartment, I checked the parking around the building and any adjacent buildings. Nothing. Then, I proceeded to walk the route Amy's friend claimed she'd take home from her house every day. The cops didn't find anything, and neither did I taking that route, no skid marks, no body, blood, nothing. Her car hadn't been found yet either. It was like she just left. I widened my search parameter of that immediate area, and I eventually found something.
Sitting on a park bench in Salazar Park and silently crying, was what looked to be a girl fresh out of a night club, and into a horror slasher flick. Shoulder length hair, brunette, grey eyes, black form fitting, low-cut dress, lithe frame, tan skin. What struck me is she was covered in blood. I knew as I got closer that this person was no longer alive, she was untouched by the rain, looked dryer then British humour. As I approached she became startled and looked up at me. The left side of her face was heavily bruised and swollen, eye swollen shut and the temple looked to be the source of all that crimson painting her form. Her hair was a dishevelled mess, and dress was torn up, missing shoes. Poor girl had defensive marks all over her. She put up a fight.
Sometimes, not always, ghosts, especially recently dead ones, will show signs of the bodily harm done in the moments leading up to their death. I saw a lot of injuries, fatal or otherwise on the battlefield, but it was always hard to stomach seeing the horror someone had gone through before death.
She didn't fit Amy's description, Amy wasn't lithe, and she was a lighter tone, with dirty blonde, long, hair and green eyes. My mission target was also not in a dress when she was taken, she was wearing a red leather jacket she had saved up for, a white blouse underneath and black pants, with sneakers instead of shoes. The blood is up in the air but unfortunately I'd say it's likely.
I assure the spirit I'm not going to attempt harming her. She seemed to be completely fixated on the fact that I could see her. Understandable, she probably knew her situation well enough to know nobody should be able to see her right now. As I look her over, I notice a tattoo of a Celtic sign for life above her left breast. The universe, God, or who ever had some messed up sense of humour for me to find a dead girl tattooed with that.
Actually, that told me who this was, the second to last known victim, before Amy, Margret O'Rourke. Margret had gone missing a week prior to Amy. Her college campus roommate's statement to the police was that she went out clubbing to "get some dick", apparently it had been awhile for her, but never came home. The roommate thought she found a guy or guys to go home with and didn't think much of it until she hadn't heard from her for more then a day. Normally they kept in touch to make sure nothing foul was happening. Soon after she reported her missing.
"Can you lead me to where you died? Do you remember where that is?" At the mention of her death she became terrified. Margret's ghost began frantically looking around and clutching her knees to her chest. Her eyes were wild, like she was suddenly cornered. When stuff like this happened I was never certain if there was something I couldn't see surrounding them or if they were capable of PTSD, and relive their death as if it just happened.
I knelt down next to her, thankfully nobody was around. The rain meant almost nobody was coming down this way and it was late in the evening. I tried reassuring her that it was alright, that whoever did that to her wouldn't hurt her again. Promised I'd protect her. Help her move on.
Eventually she seemed to calm herself and just stared at me for a minute, tears streaming down her face. I reached out, another difference between me and Odd, if I focused on it, I could touch them. Not usually for long, but it allowed me to comfort some of the more distressed spirits.
Shock once again washed over her face as I placed my hand on her shoulder to reassure her. When I made contact, I had a brief glimpse of what she was afraid of and whatever it was it wasn't human. Touching ghosts, it's tricky and dangerous. They are like amplified forms of emotion. No physical form to hold any of it back, when I make contact like that, I am basically touching another consciousness. It then has a direct link to mine as a result. Two souls connecting briefly. Whatever I saw couldn't have been real. Normally any vision I have, whether it be a dream or otherwise, are pretty diluted and unclear. Rarely can I ever make sense of anything I see. It's usually the less obvious stuff in the vision that I have to pay attention to. A book page, a time displayed on a clock, a specific door on a wall with a specific painting. Normally all those things could be in the same place in one vision, but I would encounter them separately in different places entirely.
This thing looked like an eldritch horror, something created by the twisted mind of H.P. Lovecraft or the like. I felt Margret's terror still, but I did my best to quickly calm down. Forcing a smile on my face I told her I'll go alone if she was too scared to go back, I just wanted directions.
She looked down, contemplating her choices. I'm not sure what I'm going to find, but she was terrified, and I had to essentially face whatever it was on my own. As if she was reading my mind she gave a weak smile and beckoned me to follow her.
Once we started towards our destination, I felt this tingle at the back of my neck. A chill up my spine. My sixth sense was kicking in, and I could tell someone or something was watching us... or rather, me I suppose. I asked Margret to hold up while I untied and tied my shoe. She raised a brow, curious at what I was doing. When she noticed I was discretely checking our surroundings I feel like she knew what I was doing. She started looking around to. When she made a move to actually just walk around to look I told her not to worry about it for now and just keep heading towards our original destination. She nodded and continued.
I'd find out who was on my tale soon enough.
"Margret right? My name's Cillian. I was a soldier for a little over a decade. So don't worry, I can handle myself." She looked at me, briefly eyeing me up. I saw a wry smile come over her face for a brief moment, before the realization that she wouldn't be able to bang a soldier after all this was over set in. She just pouted after that. I chuckled at where her mind went, unfortunately for her even if she was alive that wasn't what I was interested in at the moment. Besides, she was kind of young, 22 if memory serves. Not that I've never been with someone that... ah forget it doesn't matter.
We walked for about 40 minutes. I made note of land marks and the people walking around in the evening along the path. I noticed that Margret had stopped across the street from Saint Sava Serbian Orthodox Church. Look on her face told me she didn't want to go back in, which honestly was understandable. The mess they made of her face told me all I needed to know about why she would approach. I stepped in front of her to catch her gaze. I put on a brave smile for her and told her she was good to go wonder if she wanted. I was going to stake out the place, and maybe try and see if I could catch the person that was following me.
At the mention of my stalker she suddenly became focused and started looking around. I told her if she wanted didn't want to be alone, she could follow me where ever I went until I helped her pass on, and that way she could watch me from a distance, a look out. That way, she wouldn't have to enter he building. Besides, I wasn't on planning on entering it just yet. I wanted to know more about the people coming in and out of this place first. As she nodded her agreement and sauntered off to cover more ground I started to observe for finer details of my surroundings.
The Church looked like it was built in the early 20th century. The reddish brown brick made up most of the churches architecture, along with the various low walls all around the property. On the roof was a bell tower with three bells inside, on top was a white cross. From what I could see from where I was standing, there was some separate smaller buildings, either bathrooms or storage or something of the sort, off to the side of the property with some outdoor areas that had covering for when it rained. Well mowed lawn and some trees peppered around the property.
Looking around, to the west and south of the church were graveyards, to the north and east were highway. Well shit, no vantage point to get an eagle eye view that's out of sight from third parties. There was a building in a lot across the street on the east, apparently some repair station, but the way the trees and wall on that side of the church were placed made it nearly impossible to see into the courtyard. That, and the entrance into the Church was on the west side. The buildings on the same property of the church were out of the question, I could see some of the higher windows had a clear view of their rooftops and I didn't know the actual layout. Plus, they were too close and it would have been to easy for me to get spotted anyway. Especially with the highway being elevated on the north side people driving by might see me. I briefly contemplated temporarily stealing a car so I could sit somewhere near the front on the side of the graveyard on the south, risky, but really my only covert option at the moment.
Deciding I couldn't do much just yet, I resolved my self to come up with a plan and to come back later. The things I wanted to check out first were the graveyards, make sure if that person following us was hiding behind a gravestone or something. Then, I'd go back to my motel, grab my kit, and take the supplies I'd need for a stake out, and possibly forceful entry into the church. I contemplated the likely hood that the repair station was a front and maybe a staging area. Another thing I'll investigate. As I perused through the cemetery That feeling of being followed intensified.
Whoever was on my tale, watching me, was causing my supernatural sense to go nuts. They had to have been right on me, but when I swung around drawing my Sig Sauer P226, nobody was there. Yet the feeling of being watched, the presence of another, was right there. I couldn't tell what direction though.
"GET AWAY!" I could feel Margaret's presence come up behind me. Her voice was equal parts angry, and scared. Both hands on my gun now I started looking around.
"Where?" I turned the flashlight that I had mounted on the under-barrel. The light didn't reflect off anything. Margaret ran forward, I could see as she passed that she was terrified, and then suddenly stopped facing me and pointing at her head. I didn't question it, knowing it wouldn't do anything to her I fired. She must of known this thing was capable of being hit physically, which makes me wonder if it was the thing I had envisioned.
To my surprise, and absolute horror, a grunt came from whatever had been hit, and a bit of blood flew off of whatever it was. Margaret turned around to look at it, I could see the depression in the grass. Suddenly what ever it was was faintly visible to me and it darted off before I got a good look. It looked like the very shadows were dripping away from it's form. Thankfully, from what I could tell, there was hair so definitely not what I saw in my vision.
Margaret calmed down some, but my heart was racing. The speed at which that... that thing was moving was unbelievable. They were basically an Olympic runner but sped up a bit. I turned to Margaret, my mouth hanging open. She gave me a stern look and spoke her last words of the night.
"Don't let them get close."
