Silver Kissed Corpse/ Rune Wise Corpse/ Lupus Tenebrae/ Varangian/ The Beast of Gevaudan/ Balder Nott
Breed: Metis
Auspice: Theurge
Tribe: Ronin (Get of Fenris)
Embrace: 1009
Sire: Khanom Mehr
Generation: 5º
Clan: Lasombra
Sect: Autarkis
Physical:
Strength 8 Dexterity 6 Stamina 8
Social:
Charisma 4 Manipulation 7 Appearance 5
Mental:
Perception 4 Intelligence 7 Wits 5
Disciplines:
Potence 1 Celerity 5 Obtenebration 6 Dominate 6
Blood Sorcery:
Abyss Mysticism 6 Focused Mind 5 Power of the Mirror 5 Koldunic Sorcery 5
True Rune-Wise:
Enchantment 6 Shape-shifting 6
Gifts:
(1) Create Element, Spirit Speech, Blur of the Milky Eye, Open Seal, Scent of the True Form, Safe Haven, Master of Fire, Resist Pain
(2) Burrow, Eyes of the Lynx, Blood Life, Spirit Knife, Speech of the World, Sense the Unnatural.
(3) Chameleon, Pulse of the Invisible, Might of Thor, Venom Blood, Tongues.
(4) Gift of the Porcupine, Grab of the Beyond, Spirit Blossom
(5) Malleable Spirit, Endurance of Heimdall
Rites:
Dedicated Talisman, Binding.
Backgrounds:
Contacts 5 Herd 5 Resources 5 Influence 3
Rage:6
Gnosis: 10
Willpower: 10
Virtues: Conscience 3 Self-control 5 Courage 5
Morality: Humanity 7
Metis Deformity: The shadow is always show the Crinos Form
Domain: Los Angeles Dowtown
Haven: Club Confession
Ghoul: Venus Dare
Childer (Adopted): Rosa, James/Slasher,
Of all the things I expected myself to be on these strange modern nights, acting as a teacher for a bunch of poor little Thin-bloods was not one of them.
Well, it's been a while since I enjoyed a good old fire camp. A bonfire, booze, tales, those were things that valued, in a lost life. But, I can act as a small beacon for these lost lambs, and maybe, just maybe, help them a little in this brutal and obscure world of darkness that we live in.
Sighing under my breath, I took a seat at the wooden seat spots around the fire and mentally prepared myself for a speech. At the same time, I expanded my senses, and make sure that nothing, natural or supernatural, was eavesdropping. What I am about to say can very well be considered a breach of the Masquerade, and that will bring trouble to my doorstep. Enough shit already happens nightly to add more fuel to the fire. Looking at my audience; a bunch of Thin-bloods and the latest, and most infamous of the Childer of Clan Tremere; I sighed deeply again, and prepare for the introduction.
"Okay, I am sure that all of you are completely lost about what you truly are, or what on earth is going on around you. The world that you know is completely lost, and your new world is as welcoming as a rabid wolverine".
A round of nods, yeps and other affirmations answered my words.
"Then, and with any desire of being, ah, what 's the expression?. Ah, the Captain Obvious, I will simply say that all of you are vampires".
A round of deadpan expressions followed.
"Yeah, sound obvious, but believe me, there are things out there that can pass as vampires and had zero to do with the kindred. Kindred, that's the polite word for vampire, though leeches, licks, and other assortments of disparaging epithets are also very common".
"According to the vampire consensus, at least on the western world, all vampires are the descendants of Caine, aye, that Caine, the one that smashed to pulp the skull of his brother in the bible. God cursed him with the immortality of sorts, the first vampire, and when Cain and Lilith, the first woman, that, uh, well, according to the Book of Nod, ah, blast it".
The Thin-bloods and the Tremere fledgling; the childe of a good friend that Lacroix staked two days ago, only for that I put the pompous Ventrue onto my wergeld list; watched me with a mixture of curiosity, and a bit of apprehension about what I am revealing to them.
"Look, I am going to resume kindred history to the bare minimum, aye?". I frowned and massage my temple trying to shove millennia of occult lore into a tale around a bonfire. Not as easy as it sounds.
"There are a hundred of interpretations, and things bumping in the night that contradicts and validates what I am about to say like a hundred times, and do not make me start in trying to make sense to the belief of the Shapeshifters, the mages, the mummies, and the bloody earthbound".
"In the beginning, Cain killed Abel, Cain was cursed, wandered Earth, met Lilith, the first woman, they become something akin to lovers, and through the dark wisdom that Lilith bestowed onto Caine, he developed what is known today as Disciplines, the supernatural powers of the vampire Clans".
Staring at the fire, I tickled my brain, accessing the memories that I have stored there, organizing them into a coherent, modern, tale. I swear by Gaia, modern times are the synonym of simplicity to the point of retardation. But that is my old age acting and turning me into a grumpy grandpa. Pity that I am as sterile as a corpse, not even Childer. I can create powerful Ghouls, but Embracing anyone is out of my reach.
Adopting childer was still an option, by the way.
"Caine abandoned Lilith, and after traveling around, he founded Enoch, the first vampire city. Caine, his Ghoul and best friend Jabal, and his three Childer Enoch, Zillah, and Irad, were at the top of the hierarchy of the first city, next, was the Third Generation, the founders of most of the kindred clans today, below those kindred, the children of Set, the ghouls, and finally, the kine, polite word for mortals instead of cattle".
"Time passed, the biblical deluge came, the thirteen run out of Enoch and founded a second city, that soon fell to pieces due to all the infighting between the Third and Fourth Generation of kindred, also known as Antediluvians and Methuselah. The kindred spread far and wide, spreading the curse of Cain, betraying, killing, tearing the world apart, the usual, if you think about it".
"Anyhow, the Clans that you see today are the descendant of Caine, generation after generation of kindred embracing mortals and turning them into vampires for their objectives. Such war between the ancient kindred is called Jyhad, and the final conflict where the Antediluvian will raise and chew us up is called Gehenna".
"Wait, what?". Blinked Copper, one of the Thin-bloods with astonishment in his voice. "How the fuck are we responsible for such shit?".
"It has something to do with the Book of Nod, and the prophecies on it". I shrugged, not believing it myself, after all, I have seen the Wyrm in action, and I met something that could be called Satan. "Like any religious belief, the Noddist, kindred that follows the Book of Nod, believe that the surge of the Thin-blood is the prelude of the Gehenna".
"Fucking unbelievable". Cursed E, sharing a hug with his sire, Lily.
The redhead kindred was a modern kindred, her sire, a lad called Rolf Toten, was a German student that vanished as soon as his student visa went red, leaving Lily alone and lost. Lily embraced E out of loneliness, and went the hunger was unbearable, she tried to steal from the local blood bank. Unfortunately, the blood bank is under the iron grip of the local Baron, Therese Voermann. She, and her sister Jeanette, ruled Santa Monica, or that is what they want to believe. Lily ended up as a blood source, drained and feed with animal blood by the Ghoul that kept the blood bank up and running.
Never really liked the bastard to be fully honest. He is as insane as his domitor.
Anyhow, Lucy Harker, the fledgling of the Tremere that I mentioned before, found and freed Lily from the blood bank. That is going to ruffle some feathers with Therese, and I am sure that, that bastard of Lacroix has sent Lucy to Santa Monica to die. But I will address that kettle of fish later.
"For millennia, the Clans grew and spread. Some of the Antediluvians were slain or diablerie; later I will explain that; Brujah slain, Tremere diablerized Saulot, Lasombra was slain, Cappadocious was diablerie by Augustus Giovanni, and bloodlines, Clans, sects, etc, started to come out of the woodwork".
"I am not going to recite you the millenniums of disasters that the kindred had starred, provoked, or, in general, messing up things left, right, and center. Alas, I will admit that the kindred are not the only fools with a plan".
"Leaving apart the most obscure bloodlines like the Kiasyd or the Sisters of Cacophony; Kindred can be found in three major factions of sorts. With the Kue-jin, Asian kindred of some sorts that are very different from us; or the risen on the extra corner".
"The Camarilla, with the Ventrue, Gangrel, Toreador, Nosferatu, Tremere, Malkavian, and Brujah. They are something akin to a government, there are ranks, laws, traditions, those are important, remind me later to told all of you about that, the whole nine yards. Each city is under a prince, with the oldest member of the bloodlines around as primogen of the clans in the city".
"But the Anarchs are Brujah as well, no?". Asked Copper with Julius joining the question with his stuttered voice.
"Aye, clans are not limited to a faction or a sect", I nodded. "But it is more likely to find a Lasombra on the Sabbat, than on the Camarilla, or going their own way. Those that went to the other side, so to speak, are called Anti-tribu".
"The Sabbat, with the Tzimisce and the Lasombra. Religious monsters that believe that being monsters is a task given to the kindred by god to put the fear of god onto humanity".
Cue in horror faces.
"And the Independent. The Giovanni, the Ravnos, the Assamites, the Setites, and several other kindred and bloodlines that do not fall onto any category or the Anarchs, who are a hodgepodge of everything, with dozens of clans of all kinds mixed in".
"There are also people like me, the Autarkis, that are kindred that exists outside of the kindred society, or that don't want anything to do with the eternal backstabbing of the kindred society".
"That's awfully more complicated than anything that, that bastard of Rolf told me", huffed Lily, cuddling with E.
"Preaching to the choir there", snorted in black humor, Lucy. "My sire was beheaded in front of me, that asshole of Lacroix tossed me into Santa Monica without even a word about the kindred society. Smiling Jack gave me the basis of the basis, but…".
"Jack is one of my favorite bastards to hang around on the Last Round, but the lad is an Anarchist through and through, and did not care much for anything that is not his immediate survival. Still, though as nails old song, I give him that".
"Anyhow, back to the basics". I redirected the conversation back to the main topic.
"All Clans had their idiosyncrasies, and all of them had a common motif that made them relative different from one another. Ventrue tend to be royals, CEO types, Toreadors are artists of all sorts, hedonists in some cases, Brujahs are passionate and vocal, Gangrels are feral, Malkavians are completely mad, Nosferatus are discrete and dangerous, Tremeres are wizards, etc".
Lucy snorted again. The poor lass has been tossed into the Dance Macabre with nothing but the clothes that she had when they staked her and her sire. It was a good thing that she had some cash to survive her first two nights. In those two nights, she had to recover a bomb from a bunch of low-level drug dealers, infiltrate a hospital, save Marcurio; Lacroix's Ghoul; and meeting the Baron of Santa Monica, Therese Voermann, and her crazy as hell sister, Jeanette.
Lucy's sire was powerful on the blood, an elder with two hundred years of un-life at her back, meaning that Lucy was stronger than the common fledglings of the modern nights. The biggest problem is that Lucy lacked the experience to channel adequately the power of her blood, or any real instruction in the traditions of the kindred society.
"From time to time, when a kindred is embraced and it lacks any obvious sign of belonging to any clan, those poor souls are called Caitiff, and they become the omega dog of the pack, even if their blood is strong. Being of lower generation will attract blood hunters, and that leads me to the topic of Diablerie".
"Diablerie, or Amaranth, is the act of slaying a kindred by drinking all of his blood, followed by his soul". Disgruntled faces surrounded me, but Lucy had a light in her eyes that I did not like at all. She is already plotting how to chew Lacroix.
"Diablerie is a very big NAY in the Camarilla. Not that they do not do it, it is simply that anyone caught with the mark of the Diablerie on their aura, will be put to the stake and sunburn asap".
"To put things in perspective. Let's imagine a scenario that could have happened".
"Lily here, who has all the marks of belonging to the 13º generation, the limit before the Thin-blood, like the rest of you except Harker", I started the exposition, "could have sucked her sire's blood and soul, killing him for good, the Final Death, and making her generation go lower from 13º to 12º generation, gaining a sliver of the power of Rolf".
The idea of murder did not sit well with the Thin-bloods, and I felt how Rosa was already swimming between her normal consciousness and whatever visions she had often. Oracle Voice, the Gift of the Norns, Cassandra, Sybil's Touch, I have already met dozens of precogs like her. Controlling such gifts is quite a daunting task.
"Lily's aura, visible for anyone with the ability to see, will be showing a black coloration, marking her as a Diablerist, and more likely, hunted down by any elder kindred on the city".
Actions have consequences, especially in the over paranoid kindred society.
"Of course, as you have already listened with the Third Generation, diablerie for power is something pretty common, heck, in the Sabbat they do it for fun sometimes. Strength, of mind, body, blood, and soul, is one of the main tenets of the Sabbat".
"Blood, vitae if you want to be exquisite, is the source of power and nourishment for any kindred, no matter Clan, sect, whatever. It's the new center of their lives, and the reason why they rose from the tomb into these new, some will say accursed, existence".
"With enough blood, any kindred can do incredible things; in the form of supernatural powers that came from their disciplines or blood magic".
"Nay", I forestall any further questions about magic, anticipating the frown of Lucy, and the curiosity of Copper and Julius. "Blood magic, also known as Thaumaturgy, is practically the monopoly of the Tremere Clan. Trying your hand at it will call the attention of the Tremere, and that is never a good thing. But magic is real. Mages are real, and I don't have the slightest idea how they work".
False, but they believe me because I am a wolf with a sheep face.
"Back to the blood topic. Blood is your gasoline, your cocaine, your champagne, all rolled into one". More or less. "Once the blood starts to scarce, the Beast came to play".
"All of us, kindred, have something called the Beast". It is a scary thing that came with the blood of Caine. "The monster in the corner of our subconscious, the eat-eat-eat, kill-kill-kill lizard instincts of a predator. Whenever your hunger is unbearable, whenever the thirst for blood, or your survival instincts, flare like the fourth of July, the Beast gets the wheels".
Judging by the glance that Lucy sends to Lily, and how the woman was trying to snuggle closer to E, I will say that someone has experimented with a frenzy recently, and had not liked the experience at all.
"Among the kindred, it is called, a Frenzy. A state of berserker-like rage and thirst that will make you hunt, kill, and feed whatever stands in your way. It is not the only flaw of the vampires, we all also suffered from what is called Rotschrek or Red Fear. It is the instinctive fear of what can kill us permanently".
Tossing a small twig to the fire, I listened to the cracks of the wood-burning into the fire. The red fear was something that no longer bothered me, but for fledglings like the ones that I had in front of me, I can understand why they need to know this kind of thing.
"Kindred, in general, are though cookies. We are living corpses, dead meat does not bruise, and the real problem of the cuts is the bleeding. Some clans, Ventrue and Gangrel are famous for it, are known for their preternatural resilience due to the discipline known as Fortitude that turns them into undead tanks, but even then, there are a few things that can send the kindred to their Final Death".
"Fire and sunlight will burn you all to ashes". The chief of the vampire killers.
"Enough firepower, decapitation, torn to pieces, the natural weapons that supernatural entities had, like the claws of a shapeshifter or a fellow kindred, and other esoteric methods. Staking your heart; with a wooden stake, plastic does damage but does not shut you down; will put you in a coma. Still, If you managed to crawl away from whatever is trying to kill you, with blood and time, you can recover from almost everything".
Ah, I almost forgot one of the main topics of the kindred.
"When something tears you a new asshole but does not kills you, it is more than probable that it will send you into what is called Torpor. It is something similar, but deeper, to the slumber that invades us when the sun is in the sky. The torpor can be voluntarily, usually to get rid of the ennui of centuries of blood games, or when the society around you is anathema to you, or when something mangles you for good, and the Beast needs time to lick its wounds and recuperate".
"The time that one passes in torpor is very depending on how…humane a kindred is". Of course, that sent them for a loop.
"Kindred are eternal, immortal if we play our cards right, that means that we see civilizations rise and fall, the values that we hold in our childhood are mocked and ridiculed today, the custom, the ethics, everything change. Kindred are not keen on changes, especially those that have gallivanted this lands for centuries and that have seen everything that they respected turn to dust or humiliated by history and the modern times".
"Yeah, I don't get it". Shook his head E, and Lily giggled.
"Okay, imagine that you are a roman centurion", I explained to them, so they can see the kind of impact that time have on a kindred.
"You were embraced during the golden age of Rome, an epoch of culture, of greatness for the Empire. You survive the fall of the Empire, went to Byzantine, Constantinople, see the society change in front of your eyes, seeing your gods substituted by crosses, or whatever, see people that you considered little more than slaves become the new ruling caste, and then, a werewolf, or another kindred with a grudge, shove their claws up your ass and sent you to torpor".
"The less humane you are, the less you care about anything, is the marker of how much time you are going to slumber. I know a lass from Spain that has been around for eight centuries, at the very least, who needed a decade of torpor to recover from an ambush from an Assamite assassin".
Shivers all around, and a very distant and contemplative look from Lucy. She is wondering how old I am, and why all of whom she had spoken with did know me and treat me with relative deference.
"Now, you are a roman centurion that goes into a supernatural coma and wakes up a millennia later. What was your everyday occurrence became myth, fantasy, fiction, or even worse, "historical research" that is so full of bias that is not even remotely funny".
"Oh man, being a vampire is a fucking mess", moaned Copper.
"I cannot agree more". My chuckles accompanied the groans of Copper. "Okay, pay attention to a very nifty trick that will make your un-life, a bit better". I announced, gaining their full attention.
"Pass me the bottle, E". I asked the surfer, and he passed me a bottle of booze.
These poor Thin-blood have bought booze, out of kine customs, unable to wrap their heads about the fact that vampires can not drink, eat, breathe, etc. They are corpses, after all. But, with a small trickle of vitae, a semblance of life can be achieved. A small, blissful respite from the cold of the tomb.
"Lily grab my hand please". The girl complied and with a trickle of my vitae, I make my body revive for a bit.
"You are warm!", gasped a very surprised Lily, making all the other kindred around stiffen. They soon realized that my skin, which I usually kept covered with fine clothes, shown a very healthy pink tone.
"And for my next trick", I chuckled and breathed at the side of the bottle, leaving a trail of breathing mist on the crystal of the bottle, before uncorking it, and drinking the booze.
"What and how the fuck can we do that?", asked all of them with different words and emotions running on their voices.
"First, a small detail", I raised the bottle at the side of my face. "See?. No reflection". That threw them for a loop, I love to do that to people sometimes. "This is one of the most esoteric clan weakness that you will encounter, all clans have one, from annoyances to directly horrifying".
"S-s-s-su-uchh a-a-asss?", stuttered Julius.
"Even the prettiest of the Nosferatu is nightmare fuel hideous". I deadpanned and my entire audience blinked. "And I mean it, boar-like skin, twisted teeth, bulbous eyes, open pustules over all the body, vertical mouth, bat-like nose, hairy warts all over, a cavalcade of grotesque deformities".
"I felt very, very, lucky suddenly", softly, without any real humor, chuckled Lucy. "But, back to the real deal, are you human again?". There was a tinge of something in the voice of Lucy, and I almost felt bad for shattering her hopes like that.
"Nay". I barked shutting down hopes fast. "What I have done is called the Blush of Life, a parlor trick of the vitae. All kindred can do it, with the most humane among us making the best of it".
"The stronger the connection with your humanity, the opposite pole of the Beast, the better it will be". I shrugged, things were like that, I did not make the rules, just rolled with them. "Mind you that kindred are predators, and the best wolf is the one that can mingle with the sheep without losing a beat".
"How long does it last?". Asked Lily still rubbing her hands, and leaning closer to E. "We can eat, drink?".
"Depends on the individual". Drinking from the bottle, I make a show that I could drink without problems. "The Blush mimics life for a small amount of time. Breathing, eating, drinking, sex, the whole nine yards. However, that is nothing more than a patine, a mere coat, a trick to mingle better with the kine".
"You can Blush, then ate a burger, and if the Blush fade before the burger is digested, then you will have to puke it out as it happens with all the foods that any kindred tries to eat". I informed them of the details of the hunting trick. "You can have sex during the Blush, the body will mimic a kine in full detail, erection, lubrication, ejaculation, all that stuff. But you will be sterile, and any fluids, except blood, will fade to ash very quickly after it lefts the body".
"But, it makes you human again, no?. Is a cure", E asked, and I saw that Lucy frowned at the idea.
"Nay, not even in a bloody joke". I shook my head. "The Blush is a trick, nothing more. It helps the feeding, it helps hide from any pursuers, it helps to mingle with kine and ghoul alike. That's it".
Eyeing Lily, E, Rosa, and Lucy for a second, something that they picked up, but only Lucy stared back, with a raised eyebrow in silent question.
"The Blush takes vitae, burn too much vitae and you will go hungry, go hungry for enough time, and frenzy will follow, the frenzy may break the Masquerade, and you will end up staked and tanning at the morning sun very fast".
"Oh, ah, What's the masquerade?". Copper stared at his hands, trying to imitate me by sheer willpower. The lad did not have much, to begin with, but I can respect the determination.
"The basic rule of all kindred". I answered back. "Never, ever, allow the kine to know that we exist".
"The sheep must never know the wolf is around?". Lucy was the one that echoed one of the phrases of her Sire. Her sire took that from my book.
"Exactly", I nodded. "In the old days?. Feeding was easy. In the modern nights?. Jimmy Neckbeard can pick up his two-barrel shotgun and turn your head into a red mist, and do not make me start in the kine that hunt us back, from the Hunters of the Society of Leopold to the New Inquisition, to several other kine that fight back, and fight back smartly".
"The only way to prevent the kine to fight back and exterminate us is the Masquerade". Softly whirling the remain of my beer in the bottle, I grimaced at the thought of the other side of the spectrum.
"Well, the Sabbat does not care about the Masquerade, they revel in the chaos, the destruction, and the gore. Of course, the Camarilla, and others are the ones that had to clean up the disaster and call it gang-violence, terrorism, satanist, etc, etc".
"To do that, they have to control the T.V, radio, newspaper, they have to control the police, the firemen, the rescue organizations, that means ghouls, use of Domination, and other mental disciplines, and everything becomes even more of a mess".
"What a mess", moaned Lily, starting to realize the kind of disaster that the kindred society truly was.
"And you have barely scratched the surface, sweetheart". I barked in dark humor. "I have just given you a shallow introduction to the kindred society, the why, the how, and give you all a trick to ease up these cold, and dark, nights, but believe me, the rabbit hole is deep, bloody, and dark".
"I believe you", sighed E hugging Lily.
In truth, I pity the Thin-blood, most of them are just poor sods that did not deserve this kind of fate. However, in the dark modern nights, survival is the name of the game, and anyone that did not pull his weight was dammed to be food, literally.
"And how can we be human again?", asked Copped out of the blue.
"You can't", I replied without missing a beat. Now, I have a beat to miss if I wanted. Blushing was a pretty nifty trick.
"But, if we kill the head vampire…", he started, and I could see the pity on the eyes of the rest of the thin-bloods, and a barely hidden sneer in the expression of Lucy.
"Lad, Hollywood is bullshit". I deadpanned with a tone that did not accept any reply. "Am I mean it, pure bullshit, the kindred have been feeding lies to the kine since the creation of the concept of moving imagines, it makes the Masquerade easier if the kine do not have the slightest idea of what to look for".
Copper cowered at my tone, I don't need Rosa's visions to see that Copper is a Masquerade breaching in progress, and I fear that Lucy will be the one that will have to clean up such mess.
"Be thankful that Mister Nott is speaking with us", chided E the other Thin-blood. "So far only Lucy and he have treated us like human beings".
"You are welcome". "No problem". Lucy and I commented on E's words.
Out of nowhere, Rosa stared at the void, turned her face to Lucy, and spoke in a neuter tone.
"The twice abomination is the source of the truth, he will fight for your light, even against the father?. Why is the father smiling?. No, not only the father. The red eye of Ankara will stare at him, under the Father and the Mother, the silver kissed blood will be worthy and he will see the three faces of the world. From the stolen blood and the twice abominated blood, worthiness will come and Mother will embrace her half moon back".
Rosa ended the words, and stared at me, blinked a pair of times, clearly recovering from the trance. Confusion was blatant in her face and a small hint of a blush that can never appear. I am an inhumanely attractive bastard after all. It eases hunting for blood a lot.
"Uh, ah, what I was saying?". She was a pretty cute Hispanic lass. Unfortunately, her thin-blood had manifested in a foresight. That or she was a Malkavian and she did not know it. Both are possible.
"Your oracle gift has taken control again", I smiled at her with understanding.
"Ah". She simply said and stared at the night stars. Oh, due to embarrassment she has managed to make a facsimile of the Blush of Life to show embarrassment. How cute.
"Anything to say about what she has said?". Asked E. "It may sound like gibberish, but sometimes she hits the nail on the head sometimes".
With a side glance at Lucy, I saw how the Tremere lass was very attentive to my words. She must have experienced the prophecies of Rosa before, and realize that they are the real deal.
"Honestly?. Nay". I shrugged, however, I memorized those words, and later, I will dissect them in peace at my haven on the Confession Club. "That being said, I have to admit that her gift is quite potent. Are you of the blood of Malkav, sweetheart?".
"I don't know", she confessed with a soft voice. "It just happens sometimes, I don't have control over it. Are there other vamps, er, kindred with this problem as well?".
"Aye and nay". I Signaled with my thumb to the building that peaks over the edge of the concrete parking lot at our backs. "The Baron of Santa Monica and her sister, the inimitable Voermann sisters, are of the blood of Malkav, also know, as Malkavian, or the crazy ones".
"How many clans are out there?", sighed exasperated Lucy.
"Technically thirteen, with some extra bloodlines here and there". I politely informed her. "Mine and yours are part of those thirteen ones", I turned my face to the other Thin-blood around. "I do not know what is your lineage, maybe Malkavian in the case of Rosa, perhaps Brujah in the case of Lily and E, but I can not say anything for certain until your clan weakness manifests blatantly".
"The non-reflection part is your clan weakness?". Asked Lucy. "What is your clan?".
"Lasombra", I said without any real problem. "Though I am a very unorthodox Lasombra, an Autarkis that has vehemently rejected the usual byplay of my Clan, and any sect, faction, cult, or whatever that has tried to recruit me to their side".
"I take that the Nosferatu being horrendous is their clan weakness", Lucy pondered, with the scholar in her taking control. Fenris ball's, this lass is just like her sire. "But what is the weakness of the others?".
To be honest, she was asking for the weakness of Lacroix, so she can kill the bastard that has killed her sire and tossed her to the wolves so gratuitously. I was not there during the evening on where Lacroix killed her sire. I was very, very, busy, hunting down a Sabbat pack that has been sniffing around my domain Downtown. A pack of six Blood Brothers that were testing the defenses of my domain. The Sabbat is pretty active these nights.
"Well, Nosferatu are horrendous, Lasombra lacks reflection, Malkavian are insane, and I mean literally, is impossible to find a Malkavian that does not suffer some kind of derangement, Brujah are very prone to Frenzy, Gangrels that suffer too many Frenzies develop animal traits, Toreador get lost in whatever they considered beautiful, Ventrue are exceptionally picky about what blood they can feed on, and your kind…".I stopped and suddenly stared very attentively at Lucy.
My sudden gesture, and the intensity of my gaze, did make the other thin-blood shuffle uncomfortable, and my frown did put Lucy in alert. They realized that I was about to say something, or I have realized something, something not very good. My smile grew, a predatory and amused smile that made all of my audience felt the need to give a step back or run to the hills. I will be dammed. I have found a Tremere that is not blood bound to her elders.
It took me a second to realize what I have done, and quickly changed my body language to one of pensive, and realization, followed by a snap of my fingers, as if I have remembered something important.
"Of course, I forgot something important", I groaned, massaging the bridge of my fingers.
That changed the mood of the kindred around me to a lesser worried one. I understand. I may act as a friendly guy, but they all know that I was a full-fledged kindred, and by the words on the grapevine, one of the powerhouses of the city, but one that prefers to be left alone.
"Blood bonds". I said to them, and all of them stared back at me with incomprehension. "Kindred vitae, once given to another living being, had several consequences. The Ghouls and the Blood bonds".
Okay, now Lucy was even paler than usual, what have you done little lady?.
"Ghouls are individuals, animals included, that have been given vitae". Not limited to humans, I know that well. "The vitae makes them a stronger, healthier specimen, stopping the aging process; provided a Ghoul receives more kindred vitae to kept such upgrades and grants them a sliver of the powers of the kindred".
"At the same time, the Ghoul become addicted to the vitae, they are prone to a lesser Frenzy and felt a compulsion to serve their kindred master. They are prone to become obsessed with their Domitors, the kindred that gives them vitae. Ghouls usually came in three flavors. Vassal, Independent, and Revenants".
By the body language of the Thin-bloods, they seem to be considering the idea of picking a ghoul for themselves. Lucy looks exactly as if someone has caught her with her hands on the cookie jar. Fenrir's balls, not two days as kindred and she has already done more than kindred with several decades over her. Either she was more exceptional than I believe, or something is going on behind the curtains that I am not aware of. Yet.
"Blood bond, this is a dangerous thing". I huffed, with some bad memories resurfacing. Quickly shutting them down, I continued with the explanations.
"After accepting the blood of a vampire three times, the drinker becomes the thrall of the provider". The horrific visages of all of my audience echoed with a frown on my face. "The thrall is in love with the regnant, as much as one can love someone. Such is the power of the blood bond".
"Shit, that is my clan weakness", hissed Lucy under her breath.
She was not entirely wrong. Tremeres are vulnerable to the Blood Oath, they only need two sips to fall into one, but the real deal was the initiation of all neonates of the Tremere. They were all forced to drink a chalice with the blood of the Inner Council of Seven, the elder rulers of the Tremere Clan, just under Tremere himself.
Out of nowhere, an old rock song came from the inner pocket of my jacket, breaking entirely the mood of the small meeting that I was having with the Thin-blood. With a cough, I picked up my phone and flipping the cover of my Nokia, I saw the name on the screen of the phone.
"Sorry, I had to take this call", I tapped the answering button.
"Good taste, Mister Nott". Giggled Lily, with the rest of the presents smiling at the sudden interruption.
"Aye, Venus?". Speaking of Ghouls. Venus Dare, the owner of the Club Confession, and my Ghoul.
"Sorry Balder", spoke Venus, most likely from her office at the Club Confession. "Larry has called me tonight, Boris is back in town, and has bought a lot of guns, guns with dragon breath rounds".
Now that's interesting. Back in the day, when I bought the Club Confession, I carve lines in the sand with kine and kindred alike, letting the Russian mob, and the kindred around Downtown know who is the alpha in that hill.
Boris was a Russian mobster that was squeezing Venus due to the loan that Venus needed to buy the old church that the Confession was originally, and remodel it into the best nightclub of Los Angeles Downtown. When I came into the city, I legally bought the club, meet with the Bratva pakhan in Los Angeles; a Tzimisce, by the way; deposit the heads of several of Boris' bratoks on his bed, and claim the streets around the Club Confession as my domain.
Boris was not a ghoul, pretty sure he did not have the slightest idea of the kindred, but now, Boris was back, and his bratok; soldiers; are buying kindred-killing ammo. Someone was using the bald pig as an excuse to tickle me. The question is, who and why?.
"Raise the security of the Club", I told Venus. "Be sure to keep your bracelet on you, at all times, tell Andrew and Marchenko to put on their best glasses. I will deal with Boris, for good this time".
"As you wish", I can practically see the smile of Venus. "Will you came to the Club tonight?". That was a loaded question.
Ghouls need vitae, it was their addiction, and through the almost a decade that Venus has been under me, she has developed quite the lustful desire for my blood. Venus saw me as the quintessential "bad boy that had a tender spot for his best girl". I am a dangerous predator, but I treat her well, like a valued partner, instead of treating her like a fuckdoll like Boris did before I stepped in.
"Maybe", I smiled. "Right now, I will finish some business in Santa Monica, and move to Downtown to deal with Boris. If I wrap it all up quickly, I will give you a call".
"I will be waiting. Master". She purred before ending the call. Aye, the way on where she had said that last word, so sultry, so filled with hidden desire for something more than blood.
Not to toot my own horn, but I am quite the lover. It comes with experience, I am old enough to live through some of the most decadent periods of history, and share delights with sorceresses and spirits of desire. As I have said, I am an unorthodox kindred, a very, unorthodox kindred, and I have never, ever, forgotten the pleasures of the mortal life. I gave my ladies the best sensual experience that I could, and they pay me in blood and loyalty.
Balance, harmony, that's the secret. Find your balance and accept things for what they are, not what you wish they are.
"My apologies, even kindred have to deal with unwanted visitors and mobsters trying to collect protection money", I grumbled under my breath to keep the truth away for them. These Thin-blood are a breach of the Masquerade in the making, and I have already helped more than enough.
"Sounds rough, man". Chuckled E. "But Los Angeles, am I right?".
"Crime organization is a tradition here". Chuckled Lily.
"Oh", I snapped my fingers. "Thanks for the reminder Lily". I thanked the lass, all this prattling and I forgot of the six basic tenents of the kindred society. "God, I am an idiot, I have dumped you a lot of information for I have forgotten the most basic rules, the six tenents that are the basis of all kindred society".
"Oh, do tell". Smirked Lucy focusing on my words, as they did the other Thin-bloods.
"There are six traditions". I started. "They are the legal backbone of the Camarilla, but all other sects do have similar variations of them due to practicality. The original document had a very poetic speech, but I will put it in more modern terms".
"First Tradition, The Masquerade: Hide the existence of Vampires".
"Second Tradition, The Domain: A kindred's hunting ground is his territory, and he rules it absolutely".
"Third Tradition, Progeny: Sire only with permission of one's Elders".
"Fourth Tradition, Accounting: Until childer are released, their actions are the responsibility of their sire".
"Fifth Tradition, Hospitality: Honor the domains of others, and present yourself to the ruler of any domain you visit".
"Sixth Tradition, Destruction: The right to kill kindred is reserved for the Elder of a community. Only an Elder may call a Blood Hunt".
"Those are the six basic rules of the Camarilla", I ended up my speech. "Sure, the Anarchs spits on all that, but they respect the Masquerade, if you shit on their turf they smack your face, they are responsible for their kin messes, yadda, yadda, yadda. The more things change, the more they are the same".
And on that high note, I say goodbye to the Thin-blood and Lucy, having to deal with the return of Boris, and whoever is being the small little pigsty, I had to cut short my time hanging with the childe of a good friend. What happened to Lucy's sire was a freaking tragedy and something that I am still unsure why has happened.
Lucy's sire was a respected Tremere. Not at the same level as Strauss, the Regent of the local Chantry of the Tremere, but strong enough to garner some respect. Why has he sired Lucy without asking permission?. Why has he chosen Lucy?. I was unfamiliar with the lass, her sire had never spoken to me about her. None of my usual eyes on the street and beyond had said a thing about her before she was embraced, staked, and tossed to the wolves of Santa Monica.
Santa Monica was a hotspot. Supposedly Therese Voermann was the ruler of the place, but the Sabbat had a lot of shovelheads very close, the Camarilla had agents around, the Kuei-Jin had an assassin sniffing around, and the Anarchs were already rubbing Jeanette to put Santa Monica under the umbrella of the Anarch Free State, or whatever they are trying to build today.
Still, not my circus, not my monkeys.
Downtown was my domain, not Santa Monica. I tend to keep myself out of Santa Monica unless I have some good reasons to step into the spot. I own a couple of gun shops, a restaurant, a tailor, and a sports shop, but the discretion of those businesses is paramount, and they are as neutral as I am. They provide services, and that's it.
It does not take me much to cover the distance between Santa Monica and Downtown. The sight from the sky is always spectacular, though. Once I am on my domain, I let the city embrace me, and I become one with the light and the shadows of the spirit of the city. I am not invisible, just extremely hard to see, a reminder of days past, when swords were cutting edge technology.
Puns. Even after centuries of incredible demented events, I still conserve a bad sense of humor. Does that count as a plus or a minus?.
Downtown was very divided. The Lacroix Foundation Tower, where Lacroix liked to play as the Prince of the city, acted as the forefront of the Camarilla, not much further, the Anarch had their watering hole, the Last Round. A good place to have some drinks and bar brawls, I do not buy the rhetoric of Nines and his people, but I respect them, and they respect me equally. It helps that I can turn the strongest of them into a pretzel without losing my smile, of course.
In the middle of Downtown, I had my small slice of unholy heaven.
The Club Confession.
The nightclub was the top club of Dowtown, a place where the kine came in droves to ease the ennui of their existence with music, sex, drugs, and alcohol. I have a strict policy of no hardcore drugs on the local. If the police ever came, they will found personal stashes of drugs on the clients, but nothing on the club or the staff. In the past, someone tried to hide a big stash of drugs in my club and tip the police, but my club was also my Haven, and nothing happens in my haven that I do not know.
Trusting my staff, with Venus being the forefront of the club, I went directly to the back alleys near my club. As usual, Fat Larry was there, the fat, Afro-totting, black man was the to-go provider of not-so-legal merchandise in Downtown.
In the beginning, he did not like me at all that much. After all, once I take Venus as my Ghoul, I cut short the small dome-sub thing that Larry and Venus had. I do not share my girls, they are mine, and mine alone. Still, I brought business, big, juicy, business, and when Larry's business and reputation on the street soared, his grudged vanished as they never existed.
"Koala ears he….ah shit!", loudly proclaimed Larry, followed by a girly scream. I chuckled, appearing at his side as if nothing unusual was going on, and with a predatory smile on my face.
"Greetings, Larry". Sure, everyone and their mothers called him Fat Larry, but I never liked much the derogatory terms.
I had a lot of bad experiences of those in the early years of my life, even If I enjoyed when I managed to make those that used them as derogatory terms, be forced to speak of them with a tone of respect.
"Yo, Nott, my man", recovered quickly the street dealer. "What can do Fat Larry for you tonight?".
"Business as usual, Larry". I waved. "First, a bit of info, then an adequate iron for big game hunting". It was the truth, I wanted to keep good relations with the kine around my domain. Happy kine means good business.
"The word on the grapevine is that our old bratva friend has come to town again, and he carries a big stick". A bit on the nose with so many euphemisms, but you never know who is listening. I have smelled a Nosferatu on the streets already. Obfuscate, truly a pain in the ass.
"Yeah, my man", nodded Larry with a frown. "You know me, I am Switzerland, I do not take sides, but those Ruskies are packing some dangerous heat, really, really dangerous heat".
"Let me guess, they have hollered up at the Empire Arms". I sighed, already guessing the game of Boris. The mobster was hardly a brilliant kine, and he tended to act almost as if he was a Sabbat shovelhead, but with more guns.
"Yep", nodded Larry again. "They sent two of their quarterbacks to my van, bought a lot of my existence of iron, and went back to the hotel. There is something wrong with them, I tell you, they look whammy".
"Understood". So, what I was expecting, either Dominated, Ghouls, or under a heavy dose of mind-altering disciplines. Some kindred is trying to test my patience. "I will pay them a visit, and on that note, a good iron that you could recommend me?".
Larry's smile widened, and after perusing the insides of his van, he came out with a wooden box. After showing me the inside, I shared his smile.
"You know your clientele", I chuckled, and taking two wads of money from inside my jacket, I paid for the gun. Larry knew me better than I thought. Well, I made business with the guy usually, I can understand that he wanted me on his client list.
Easily loading the gun and pocketing it inside of my jacket, I talked with Larry for a bit. Despite the more pressing matters, it was always a good politic to keep an ear on the ground for any unusual occurrences on the streets. I have been an entire week dealing with the Blood Brothers that have tried to muscle their way into my domain, meaning that I have been a bit out of touch.
The Sabbat is always a headache to deal with.
The biggest news was the odd plague that has erupted Downtown. The CDC was already investigating, but as soon as they tried to set up shop on the hospital, someone crashed an ambulance and the entire thing was closed up, crushing the lab, and putting the entire thing under quarantine. The entire thing smell of even more bullshit, and if I had an inkling that someone was making a move for L.A, now I had sure of it.
Infecting the blood was hardly a novel strategy in kindred wars. It was the same that the kine did when they poisoned the well of whatever fortress that they put under siege. It was even more clever on a city ruled by a Ventrue, that are incredibly picky about from whom do they feed.
The Empire Arms Hotel was a five-star hotel that existed Downtown. It was a very nice place, I did not have a stake in the hotel, mostly because the hotel has been chosen as Elysium more than once by the Keeper and the Harpies. However, I must dig a bit about buying the hotel and turn it into a business hub and extra haven.
Just in case.
The moment I stepped into the entrance hall, bypassing the doorkeepers as if I was not even there, the smell of rancid blood, of sickness, of decadency, hit me like a sledgehammer. Stumbling to the side a bit, as my senses were assaulted by the metaphorical stench of sickness and death, I forced my disgust out of my mind, and force myself to try to decipher what on Malfeas I was smelling.
Seeing myself out of the entrance, I moved to the bar that the hotel had at the entrance, more concretely, to the bathroom of the bar. My objective was the very big mirror that the bathroom had.
Back in the day, I found an odd kindred in Germany that managed to discover the method to turn any mirror into his spies. Up to a point where he used any mirror to channel some disciplines, and even imprison people inside of mirrors. By that time, I was under the absolute thrall of my sire, and after devouring the kindred, his knowledge of such odd blood sorcery stood with me. I have made good use of such versatile power, finding it incredibly ironic, considering my kindred clan.
Staring at the mirror, I divided my attention between the multiple reflections of the many mirrors inside of the hotel. After centuries, I have mastered the ability to multitask, even added by blood sorcery, an obscure; but in my opinion more than worth it; that enhanced the capabilities of the kindred mind. The reflections of the mirror also allow me to infiltrate into the lenses of the security cameras, and through such cameras, into the monitors of the security office.
Dominating the mind of the security guard was easy. Domination was possible, the strongest social weapon that I had to deal with the kine. Thanks to my strong blood, trying to dominate me was very difficult, not to mention the many extra security measures that I have set up in my mind and soul to prevent being a slave of anyone ever again. That being said, I tend to rely on Domination to help keep the Masquerade up and running and doing some charity work here and there.
It may sound like something that a hypocrite would say, but I am kindred. I am a walking, blood-sucking corpse. Excuse me for trying to keep as much humanity as I could, and the very hard decisions that I have to take nightly to kept my small, black, soul relatively entire.
The guard texted me the number of the floor where Boris and his brigadier had set up shop for their triumphal return. Boris had rented an entire floor, and much to my surprise, the floor looked more like a brothel than the headquarters of a bratva brigader. I swear by Gaia, that the entire bunch of Russian mobsters were balls deep into an orgy that would have received a nod of approval from a bacchanalia organizer of Rome. Women, all of them of notable beauty, were servicing the bratok of Boris with frenzied abandon.
Wait, I do recognize some of the women. They are escorts. Very expensive escorts, that I have seen, and taste, on the Confession. I have a deal with them, or with their pimps. Boris must have paid by the nose to fund all of these. Between the weapons, the drugs, and the girls, I had the sensation that I was seeing some kind of bad gansta movie.
Jumping from mirror to mirror, I seek out Boris, and finally found him, after entering into the screen of the monitor of his office. Crunching his mind with easiness, I commanded him to sleep, and the Russian mobster slumped on his chair, already in rem state. Five seconds later, I exited the shadows of the window of his office, and the moment that I was in the same room as him, a scent hit my nostrils, and I emitted a low growl that promised the murder of someone.
Of course, like it can not be otherwise, Boris was a ghoul now. It was bloody obvious, otherwise, Boris would have not defied the edict of the Pakhan of Los Angeles and move back to his old turf. Back to the days where he abused Venus and paraded around like the biggest dog in town. Poor little pig, you could not be more mistaken. Alas, the question was still in the open, who has fed this pawn and what could be their objectives.
Grabbing Boris's arm, I bite onto his arm and feed, blood speaks, and for those that are to listen, it is a great history teller. Unfortunately, the moment that I tasted the blood, and the memories of Boris, I also let the arm go as if it was on fire and spit the blood as far as I could.
Side note, I made a spit take, sending the blood flying three meters to the side, and splattering the wall. That must be some kind of record.
The order of the circumstances that led to such a reaction.
The blood of Boris was filled to the brim with a nasty sickness. I had to spit that infected blood before it tainted mine. It will not affect me, but it will turn me into a plague bearer. I meet kindred like that, cleansing the vitae is always a very daunting task.
There is no need to be genius to see that it will be, more likely, the same plague that has been on the rise Downtown.
The source was a woman.
The madam of the escorts that the bratok were banging as if Gehenna was tomorrow, first thing in the morning. The name was Jezebel Locke, and through the memories of Boris, I saw her riding him like a bronco, sucking Boris's blood, and finally giving Boris infected vitae, and turning the stupid brigadier into a Ghoul.
That was just the beginning, all the women under the sway of Jezebel; and thanks to her inhumane presence, through the blood of Boris I can felt a sliver of that discipline influence, they were a lot of escorts that now were carriers; were infected with the disease through repeated copulation with their clients and Jezebel.
Clever bitch this one, I am going to enjoy staking her.
Pushing Boris to the side, I searched through his desk. Boris was a brigadier, a captain of the bratva, even if he has gone a bit rogue due to the manipulation of Jezebel, meaning that he has not an idiot and kept tight control of his turf and soldier. After a quick search, I found very little of real importance, beyond some papers about the guns bought and the drugs being moved in, and the plans of Jezebel for Downtown.
Boris, and by extension the rest of his soldiers, have been hit with a very powerful mental discipline known as Presence. Jezebel used it to make herself look like a goddess reborn, instilling lustful and amorous slavery into the minds of the bratva mobster. A sip of blood later, and Boris and his goons were Jezebel's mind, body, and soul.
The computer on Boris deck was a bit more informative, I didn't even need to lost time hacking it, as Boris was working on it when I crushed his mind and put him into a coma, to access the files inside on it. Usually business, mails between him and other local brigadiers of Los Angeles, a bit more deranged than usual, but Boris was hardly an example of mental health beforehand.
So, Jezebel was on the Brooklyn Suite. I do remember that suite, I have been there before during Elysium. Using the screen of the computer, I seek out any reflection of that suite. It did not take me much, the suite had a very big mirror in front of the bed, and it was easy to saw Jezebel in all her glory, as she was feeding on a pretty woman of orange hair. When a kindred feed, the bite provokes a blissful sensation on the victims, combine it with sex, and you have a multi-orgasmic mixture for both parts.
The orange hair lass was Hannah Glazer, an escort, a very expensive escort. I thought she was one of V.V's girls, but right now she was being drained by Jezebel, and, most likely, being infected with whatever horrid concoction the woman had in her vitae. Perhaps out of dramatic sense, but the room on where Jezebel was feeding had its lights dimmed, to provide an intimate atmosphere.
Stepping into my own shadow, I walked out of the shadows of the corner of the room, melted in the shadows so it was very, if not impossible, to detect me. From the shadows of the sleeves of the jacket of my suit, a wooden stake slipped into my waiting hand. It was one of my finest pieces. I seek out an adequate tree in the forest of Canada, pluck it with my own hands, polish the wood, engraved the runes, and enchant them with my vitae.
Jezebel did not have a chance to unleash her overwhelming presence. A very common tactic among the Ventrue and Toreador to overwhelm any possible adversaries. The second after she let Hannah go, and raise from the bed where she had been sucking the escort into a blissful mess, out of the shadows, a stake pierced her well-endowed chest, reaching and stabbing her heart, even before she had even registered the sensation of the wooden stake plunging in her chest, completely ignoring the corpse-like resilience of all kindred.
Among the most useful power of the blood sorcery of mirrors that I mastered, was the ability to imprison people in mirrors. Drawing some runes over the surface of the mirror in the room with my vitae, I tossed Jezebel to the mirror, and the crystal surface rippled as if it was water, taking the torpor induced kindred into its depths. Later, I will peel the mind of the demented kindred, playing twenty questions with her brain about why is the Sabbat blood cult of the Nine Hells pulling this stunt now.
After taking care of Jezebel, I moved close to Hannah, and locked eyes with her vacant stare. The kiss can turn even the most stoic mortal into a pile of pleased goo. Easily dominating her will, I make her forget about anything kindred-related, and instead pull an urge of going to the CDC and report them about the other escorts that have fallen ill, the unsavory orgy on the Empire Arms, the fear that she had that she may have been infected as well, and to call most of her usual clients to get them checked up for that nasty plague contagion.
Nodding in satisfaction with the positive reaction of her mind, I let her sleep the bliss of the feeding, and I shadow step back to the office of Boris; not before checking that no one was also present there; to deal with the final loose end of the night. I am sure that I am going to be very busy for the next night.
Grabbing Boris by the neck, I dragged him with me into the shadows, and we stepped on the rooftop of the hotel. A stunned attendant of the hotel with a cigar in his lips was freaked out by my sudden appearance, especially dragging the comatose body of Boris as if it was just a sack of potatoes.
Remember when I talk about Masquerade breaches?. This. This was one of the most glaring breaches that one can make. Let a kine be a witness of the most esoteric of the disciplines.
A simple stare and the man just got a vacant stare, tossed the remaining of the cigarette over the edge, and walked back inside as if nothing wrong had happened. He has forgotten about the tall man with blood on his chin, carrying the comatose body of the Russian asshole, that has stepped out of the shadows as if was the stairs.
Domination. Truly a wonder, and the best tool to prevent an even bigger mess up.
Taking my phone out, I tapped into the speed dial, and give a call to Venus. The phone ringed three times before Venus answered. The booming sounds of the Confession can be heard in the background, fortunately, we could still speak without being forced to scream at each other.
"Balder?". Curiosity tainted the voice of Venus. "Is there a problem?".
"Nay, Venus". I chuckled, "I am at the rooftop of the Empire Arms, and I am about to make Boris jump over the edge and splat himself against the open parking at the side of the Hotel, and I wondered if you wanted to witness it".
Venus moaned sexually, and I almost Blushed out of sheer instincts to rut the female emitting that sound. I knew that Venus and Boris had a story. When I bought the Confession, Venus told me of how degrading was to be under the boot of Boris, how the man treated her like little trash, just a walking pussy to fuck, a mouth to suck his cock, that incidentally, give him money whenever the fuck he wanted. With such a backstory, it is hardly surprising that Venus wanted Boris dead, and in the most gruesome manner possible.
"Oooh!", she cooed in pleasure. "You know how to make me purr, Master".
Oh, telephone sex, one of the most curious fetishes of this modern night. I indulge in it sometimes, mostly with Venus and V.V, when the Hollywood Toreador is in one of her "erotic prose" moods. Toreadores, am I right?.
"Anything for my girls", I chuckled.
And I mean it, I am very possessive of my "bitches", as Jack puts it. Perhaps my Beast peeking through my, usually, very civilized manners, but it was the truth. The Beast did not like the share, and me?. Even less.
"Toss that piece of shit out and come back to the Club so I can suck your godly cock as if it's made of chocolate", urged Venus to me. Whenever she got hot and bothered, she started to get vulgar.
"I am on my way", I laughed and ended the call.
Slapping Boris a pair of times, to wake him up, before his conscience managed to awake and protest, I locked eyes with him, and crushing his will, I ordered him to jump over the edge of the rooftop of the Hotel.
Now, usually, self-harming was out of the reach of the discipline, however, I was not ordering Boris to commit suicide. I was taking control of his brain, piloting his body was it was a meat suit, and forcing him to jump over the edge of the rooftop. I abandoned the ship, the moment that Boris jumped, and walking into the shadows around me, I abandoned the crime scene as if no one has ever been there.
There is no need to see if Boris has survived, even with the vitae of a kindred on his veins, jumping from that height will turn his body into a very big splat on the concrete of the open parking. If he managed to survive that, I will be very impressed, and very crossed. I do not like that kind of half-assed eliminations.
As she promised, the moment that I walked into the private office of the Club Confession, Venus jumped at my arms, kissed me with all she had, and begged for me to Blush, so she can serve me adequately.
How could I refuse such a heartfelt plea?.
Blushing, channeling vitae so I can pass for a kine for a few hours, I kissed Venus back, with the experience of being a lover for centuries. My passion made her go weak on the knees pretty soon, she let herself fall to her knees in front of me.
Fishing my half-erect cock out of my suit pants, she and proceed to face fuck herself with it. My genitals were something out of erotica books, but even with such an amount of prime material to work with, Venus was more than up to the task of orally provide very pleasurable worship of my cock.
"Good girl", I smiled, fully enjoying the talented service of Venus.
"Slurp, gack, slurp", was the very eloquent response of Venus, that inch after inch, swallow my meat pole down her throat, trapping it into a wet vice that sent waves after waves of pleasure to my brain. Her hands did not stay idle, and went for my balls, massaging the hanging nuts as if they were the most delicate piece of art in existence.
Such devotion was not a surprise, after six years of so under my vitae, Venus was addicted to me. And I was not speaking about vitae. I was the epitome of an elegant bad boy, the wet dreams of Venus made flesh, and I took full advantage of that.
Enjoying the blowjob, I let Venus have her fun, vocally encouraging; laced with a bit of Domination to make the suggestion stay on her mind; when she was doing a good job, and guiding her to become more adept at pleasing me. In other circumstances, I would have let her be all the time she wanted sucking on my meat, but the night was already coming to its end, and I wanted to finish out some details for tomorrow.
"Bend over the desk, Venus", I growled in absolute command, and Venus' core gushed all over the floor. "I am going to pound you good".
Doggy-style, possibly my favorite sex position. In such a position, I plundered Venus gorgeous booty, with the only sounds on the room being the humid echoes of my cock ravaging the folds of Venus, her guttural moans, and my grunts. Venus lost all coherence at the first five minutes of our coupling, and by the half an hour mark, she was little more than a pile of sensual goo. I took a small sip of blood from her, more to enhance our orgasms, with the pleasure of the kiss, than to feed. That was the final straw, and with an incoherent shriek of mind-breaking pleasure, she slumped over the desk, blanking due to the overwhelming sensations.
I was not a bastard, once I cum, I cleaned both of us, and left Venus in the very comfortable sofa that she had in her office, to sleep off the orgasm rush.
Once I closed the door of the office behind me, I took care of the business for the rest of the schedule, and before the sun started to peek through the horizon, around an hour and a half before sunrise, made some calls to get the ball rolling.
The plague was of Sabbat origin, meaning kindred, meaning blood magic will be needed to fix it, meaning Tremere, meaning the Regent of the local Chantry, meaning Maximillian Strauss. Sure, I will deliver the info freely to all the others around me with a stake in the business, but if someone wanted results, they will be forced to work with Tremere.
In the safety of my haven, that I have no shame in admit that carried a lot of traits with the chantries of the Tremere, I observed the torpor form of Jezebel from the inside of one of the many enchanted mirrors that I have, to keep an eye on my domains.
"Now, what can I do with you?", I smiled with a Cheshire cat smile and wondered about the many possibilities that Jezebel represented, in order of claiming another piece of the pie that is Los Angeles.
Even for an immortal, the modern nights are quite the busy times.