The kitten was dying.

	Her mother poked her gently with her nose, but got no 
response from the malnourished kitten. Hungry herself, the 
mother cat wandered off with the rest of her small brood, 
seeking for enough food to sustain them.

	From the nearby shadows, a pair of violet eyes watched.

	After a moment the owner of those eyes shuffled out of the 
shadows. She was a small girl, apparently no older than twelve, 
with shaggy black hair cut in a vague bowl-cut and with dirt 
smudged over her face. The clothes she wore were little more 
than rags, their only common denominator being their color: 
black. It was an image designed to make child welfare personnel 
seek court injunctions and scream to the newspapers about the 
state of society.

	The girl knelt by the dying kitten and stroked it gently, 
taking it into her arms. The kitten mewed plaintively at her 
touch and tried to snuggle closer to the little girl, seeking 
the warmth and nourishment that her mother had always provided.

	The fingers kept stroking the poor creature's fur for 
several minutes, and then they found the kitten's neck.

	The snap of brittle bones breaking was muffled and barely 
heard.

	Hannah leaned over the small body and began drinking from 
its broken neck, her cat-like eyes glowing in the dark.

*****

VAMPIRE MOON

A
Sailor Moon
Vampire: the Masquerade
Fusion

by
Jeffrey Hosmer

Chapter 002:
Blood Moon Rising

*****

	Raye looked down sadly on Serena's body. The stake still 
jutted obscenely from the blonde's chest.

	"Raye? Why are you here again?"

	Darien watched her from the doorway. The Prince of DC was 
wearing red silk pajama bottoms and only that. She was wearing 
the top. It ended just below her hips and showed off her milky-
white thighs. Despite their earlier activities, Darien felt a 
stir of desire as he looked at her.

	But the eyes that looked back at him were full of 
melancholy.

	"I'm sorry, Prince," she said. "I know I shouldn't be 
here." She looked away and refused to meet his gaze.

	They were in the basement of one of Darien's many houses, 
in a place he jokingly called the "Meat Locker." Those who 
defied him enough to merit a staking were stored here, in 
torpor, a coma-like state which they would remain in until the 
stake was removed.

	"I begin to wonder if Dorfmann was right," Darien said, 
walking over to take her in his arms. She buried her face in his 
chest and breathed in his cold, spicy scent that was filled with 
eddies of his power. "Look at me, Raye," he ordered.

	She kept looking down.

	He grabbed her chin and forcefully made her meet his gaze. 
"LOOK AT ME," he snarled. "Is it true? Does the Cyclops have 
some hold over you?"

	"N-no!" Raye protested, shaking her head as strongly as she 
could in his iron grip.

	"Then why," he asked in a low, dangerous tone, his fangs 
glinting in the dim light, "do you keep defying me?"

	"I don't know," Raye whispered. Terror sang through her 
veins as she looked upon Darien's aura. She had never seen anger 
and lust so entwined together.

	Darien leaned forward and nuzzled her neck, sniffing 
loudly. "I smell your fear," he said roughly. "What are you 
afraid of, little raven?" he said mockingly.

	"Y-you, my Prince," Raye said. She didn't have to act to 
put the quaver of fear in her voice. Darien was deep now in the 
throes of his Beast.

	His powerful hands held her shoulders as he kissed her, his 
teeth biting down on his lips. The taste of his blood filled her 
mouth and she whimpered as her beast rattled the bars of the 
cage she kept on it. The temptation to drink of his powerful 
vitae surged forth in her, but she pulled back and let the blood 
dribble from her lips, drops splashing on Darien's alabaster 
chest and between her breasts.

	"You deny me?" Darien roared, backhanding her in a move so 
fast she never saw it. She spun around from the force of the 
blow and lay whimpering. She was facing Serena now, bracing 
herself against the cold slab on which the blonde lay. She bit 
her own lip as Darien ripped the pajama top from her body, but 
that did not stop the screams from coming as he thrust inside 
her.

	A blood red tear fell from Serena's eye.

*****

	Lyta stepped inside the dark, smoky interior of the bar 
known as Purgatory and smirked as several of the patrons 
scurried away from her. Behind the bar, Bjorn frowned as the 
punk vampire frightened away several living customers to snag a 
table.

	"I told you about frightening the paying customers, girl," 
he rumbled. Everything about Bjorn was big, from his muscles to 
his beard, to his soulful brown eyes. He looked like he had just 
stepped off a Viking longship with an axe in both hands. And, 
indeed, that was how he had arrived in America, many, many years 
ago.

	Lyta snorted. She had gone for tight leather pants tonight 
and a matching leather jacket. Under the jacket, she wore a dark 
green halter-top that was straining to contain its charges. 
Studs sparkled from her nose, her ears, and her bare navel. Her 
lips were stained dark red tonight. She still wore, as ever, her 
heavy combat boots. They were the one constant in her wardrobe.

	She nodded over toward the couple she had frightened away. 
"If I crooked my finger, they'd both be over here, licking my 
boots," she said. "And I wouldn't even have to compel them. Damn 
Blood Dolls. I hate junkies."

	Bjorn put a pewter mug down in front of her. The thick 
liquid inside it looked black in the dim lighting, but they both 
knew what it was. "You're in no position to criticize girl. You 
and I have about the worst addiction there is."

	Lyta snorted again, but there was less conviction in it.

	"No rough stuff tonight, girl," Bjorn said, before heading 
back to the bar. "I mean it. Throw the first punch and I'll ban 
you from Purgatory."

	Lyta watched the large vampire go. Bjorn was technically 
the head of her clan, the Brujah, in DC, but he did little to 
enforce that claim. Most thought he was too soft, anyway.

	Once he was back behind the bar, she sipped her drink and 
watched the crowd. Purgatory looked, on the surface, to be 
nothing more than your usual biker bar. Rough and rundown, the 
sort of place the police avoid. Of course, it was more than 
that. It was a hangout for vampires that didn't fit into the 
upper crust of Elysium.

	Being an Anarch, Lyta fit into neither section, but 
Purgatory was the closest she could come to having a home. She 
was always on the move, one way or another.

	Her thoughts turned to Serena briefly. It was a shame, what 
had happened, but there was nothing SHE could do about it. So 
what if the Cyclops had been the closest thing to a friend she'd 
had since her Embrace? There was no room for that sort of 
baggage on the road she walked.

	"I'd ask what a lady like yourself is doing in a place like 
this," a sultry voice purred, "but I think that's obvious. Can I 
join you?"

	Lyta looked up to see a voluptuous young woman with 
aquamarine hair and wearing skin-tight crimson leather from head 
to toe, the pants laced up her side all the way to her hips. Her 
eyes were quite obviously devouring the sight of Lyta.

	"Beat it," Lyta growled, having no time for another Blood 
Doll.

	"Now, now," the newcomer purred, leaning over so far that 
Lyta couldn't help but look down her cleavage. "I might have 
something to offer that would be worth your while."

	Lyta's hand shot out, inhumanly fast, and grabbed the 
woman's neck. "I... said... beat... it," she enunciated clearly.

	"Ooh, I like it rough," the woman said, before her own hand 
snaked out and, with preternatural strength, broke Lyta's hold. 
"But maybe later. I'm here to see the head Anarch of DC. You."

	"Me? Velvet's the head...."

	The newcomer sat down, placing her own mug before her. "No, 
Velvet's *a* head now. Someone decapitated her last night."

	"Who?" Lyta demanded, sure of the answer she'd receive.

	"Me," the woman said with a laugh. Her fangs flashed in the 
dim light. "You've been causing trouble, little anarchist," she 
continued. "We are going to rule this city. You can decide now 
if you want a piece of it afterwards."

	"You're Sabbat," Lyta whispered.

	"You can call me Michelle," the other woman said, taking a 
pull from her drink. A drop of crimson ran down her jaw as she 
put the mug back down. She caught it on one finger and held it 
before her for a moment before slowly sucking her finger clean.

	"What do you want from me?"

	"Your allegiance... or your head. The same choice we gave 
Velvet." Michelle leaned forward and cupped Lyta's cheek while 
the Brujah looked on in horror. She smiled wickedly. "Please say 
no. I'd love to flay your lovely skin off an inch at a time and 
have it made into my next outfit." Her fingernails dug into 
Lyta's flesh, drawing blood, while her sea-green eyes seemed to 
hold the Anarch in place. "Such lovely skin...." she purred, 
leaning closer.

	The pain of the furrows being carved in her face gave Lyta 
the strength to jump backwards. She stumbled into a booth full 
of hairy, greasy bikers and they shoved her back roughly, 
getting to their feet. Behind the bar, Bjorn sighed and reached 
for his baseball bat.

	"Oh good," Michelle laughed. "I hoped you'd choose that!" 
With a strangely graceful gesture, the Sabbat drew the shadows 
of the bar around her and vanished.

	Lyta sat on the floor, staring in shock, even as a bar 
fight erupted around her. She was barely even conscious of Bjorn 
tossing her outside with a strict injunction to not come back. 
All she could do was run as fast as she can, hoping to find 
shelter.

*****

	Amy turned another page of the book before her very 
carefully, her hands encased in latex gloves to minimize the 
damage done to the ancient pages. Even so, bits of it crumbled 
away. Not for the first time, she wondered why no one ever 
thought of scanning the books into a computer.

	Like she was doing.

	Sighting carefully with her digital camera, she took 
another picture, which downloaded immediately into her laptop. 
She would have to thank Greg properly, she thought, for getting 
his friend in the Virtual Adepts to soup up her computer. With 
this book, she would have almost half of the Tremere Chantry 
library stored.

	She turned another page and stopped. The drawing was faded 
and stained, but it was still legible. With trembling fingers, 
she snapped off a picture of the page and then began to examine 
it very carefully.

	The picture was of Serena.

	No, the Tremere reminded herself. It just LOOKED like 
Serena, with her third eye and unique hairstyle. It had to be 
some sort of coincidence.

	But as she looked over the book she began to realize 
something else was strange. The pages were of a different 
materiel than the rest. Some medieval monks had a habit of 
binding several different books--usually just fragments of 
various titles--together in one volume. It looked like this was 
done here and then been forgotten. It had slipped through the 
cracks of the antiquated Tremere filing system.

	Quickly, Amy began snapping pictures of the rest of the 
fragmentary book. It was written in a language so old that even 
she could only understand one word in three, but what she could 
make out was definitely a prophecy of some kind. In fact, she 
had a suspicion that....

	The next page held her attention for several minutes. Then 
she reached for her cell phone.

	"Hello, Greg?" she said nervously when the other line was 
picked up.

	"I know, Amy," her fiance said. "You've found a copy of the 
Book of Nod."

*****

	Darien woke as the last rays of the sun faded over the 
horizon. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he shook 
his head to clear it of the last cobwebs of sleep. His sleep had 
been plagued by bad dreams, leaving him a little sluggish.

	A faint whimper drew his attention.

	Looking to the other side of his bed, Darien was horrified 
to see Raye lying there, naked and covered in bruises.

	"No," he gasped, running his fingers through his hair in a 
ragged fashion. "Not again." He reached down to touch Raye and 
something inside him cringed as she flinched from his touch. 
"Oh, Raye... I'm so sorry," he said. "I just... I didn't mean 
to..."

	"I-it's okay, Darien," Raye said quietly. "I'm used to it."

	Part of Darien wanted to rage at himself, but he didn't 
dare let his control slip again. The Beast had surfaced and made 
its desires known last night, and Raye had paid the price.

	Again.

	"I'll make it up to you, Raye. Somehow," he promised, 
uncertain HOW he could. The bruises were healing on the other 
vampire, but for them to still be visible now meant that he had 
really injured her the night before.

	The thought that she might have slowed her own healing did 
not occur to him.

	"Give me Serena, Darien."

	"What?"

	"The Salubri. She's not a threat to you. She's not a threat 
to anyone, unless she drowns them in her tears. She doesn't 
deserve to be punished."

	"Raye, I can't--"

	"Please, Darien. I promise. You can hold me responsible for 
her behavior. She won't be a problem."

	Part of Darien, a large part, wanted to say no. To give in 
to Raye's request would make him look weak before Dorfmann and 
the rest of the Primogen. But when he looked at her bruised and 
battered face, he couldn't resist.

	"Okay, Raye. You can have her."

	Together they got dressed and walked down to the Meat 
Locker. Darien reached out to take the stake from Serena's 
chest, but Raye stopped him. "I'll do it, Darien," she said. "I 
put it there."

	Darien nodded and stood back. Raye took the stake in her 
hand and yanked it free. Slowly, the gash in Serena's chest 
began to heal and the blonde opened her eyes.

	"Raye...?" Serena asked, before she could even see the 
other girl.

	"I'm here, Serena. It'll be OK," Raye whispered.

	"Oh, Raye... I'm sorry..."

	"Nothing for you to be sorry for," Raye said quickly, 
thinking that Serena had sensed what had gone on between her and 
Darien the night before.

	"I'm sorry you had to stake me," Serena continued. "You 
shouldn't have had to do that to me."

	"Silly girl," Raye whispered, helping Serena sit up.

	"Salubri," Darien said, cutting through their conversation. 
Serena looked up and flinched at the sight of him, cowering 
slightly behind Raye. "My consort has vouched for your behavior 
in my city. If you disobey any of our rules, if you do anything 
to make me regret showing you this mercy, Raye will share in 
your punishment. Do you understand?"

	Serena nodded quickly.

	"Good. Raye, she may stay at your place, since you have 
vouched for her. I want to be able to reach her at any time."

	"Yes, Prince," Raye said.

	Darien left the room. He had things to do this night and 
had wasted enough time on them.

	Raye turned to her friend, who was looking up at her with 
puzzled eyes. "Why, Raye? Why did you put yourself in danger for 
me? I thought you hated me."

	"I don't hate you, Serena," Raye said uncomfortably. "Now, 
let's get you home."

	"Home," Serena said dully, wondering if that word had any 
meaning for her any more. Looking up at Raye's dark eyes, she 
began to hope it did.

*****

	Erica stepped back to review her recent work.

	"Not quite right. Something about the color here, do you 
think?"

	Her companion merely grunted in reply.

	Erica shrugged and dove back into her work, literally 
burying her hands in her medium.

	Her companion watched her work for a moment, then turned 
away to look out Dr. Price's window at DC. Lightning flashed as 
a storm front moved in. She could see the lines of power 
reaching out to the storm and wondered who was manipulating it. 
The Prince? Dorfmann? Some mage? In the end it made no 
difference.

	Michelle stalked in, looking a little like a wet rat. Her 
hair was plastered to her skin and her leathers were dripping.

	"Michelle! Tell me what you think?" Erica called out as she 
made another tiny alteration to her work.

	Michelle looked it over. "The ribcage is still obscuring 
the heart a bit. You know I like to see it beat."

	"THAT'S what was wrong with it!" Erica said, and began to 
mold her victim's bones. Faint, muffled sounds could be heard 
coming from him, but his mouth was sealed shut to prevent any 
screams.

	Michelle idly tried to flick a lock of her hair up, but it 
was too wet to do anything but lie flat. She snarled but decided 
that any attempts to fix it would take time and serious chemical 
aid. She turned to Erica's companion. "I delivered your message, 
Susanna."

	Susanna turned away from the window. She was a tall woman, 
with long dark hair that never seemed out of place. In the right 
light, one could almost say it had a greenish tint. Her skin was 
perfect and very, very pale, almost to the point of albinism, 
and her blood red eyes would suggest that was indeed the case. 
She was not unattractive, however, though there was something 
almost doll-like about her. No laugh or worry lines creased her 
skin and her gaze might as well be that of a blind woman, dull 
and opaque, not focusing on anything. Still, when those eyes 
turned on her, Michelle felt like they could see into what was 
left of her soul.

	"Response?" Susanna said in clipped tones.

	"She scurried off like a cockroach. She couldn't get away 
from me fast enough."

	Susanna considered this for several long moments. The 
silence stretched on and on. In the background, Michelle could 
only hear the squelching sound of Erica working on her latest 
piece of art.

	Finally Susanna nodded. "Good."

	"Why did you have me contact her at all? She's an Anarch. 
They're even more worthless than the Camarilla. And she'll tell 
everyone that we're in town."

	"Exactly," Susanna said.

	Michelle suppressed a shudder. Talking to Susanna was 
always difficult. The taller woman never used more words or 
actions than any task dictated, never showed any emotions at 
all. It was like talking to a machine.

	A machine that she and Erica had bound their lives to.

	"What do we do next?" Michelle asked, not expecting an 
answer.

	She got one, however, though it didn't make her feel 
better.

	"Watch."

*****

	"My Prince, the Salubri and your Consort have left and we 
must talk."

	Darien turned and faced his most trusted advisors. They had 
come with him to DC to depose the former Prince because of his 
ties to the Sabbat, had helped him purge the city for the good 
of the Camarilla. Perhaps most importantly, they had stayed by 
his side when he had been made Prince.

	"You're right, Kieran," he said. "What do you want to speak 
of?"

	Kieran, a tall man with long white hair, bowed before his 
Prince. "Dorfmann will protest, my Prince. He will claim that 
the Salubri has taken control of you."

	"Do you agree, Maxwell? He is the head of your clan in DC," 
Darien asked the man with long brown hair.

	"Yes and no, my Prince. The Pontifex will use this act 
against you, but I think he will be subtler about it. He will 
whisper of it in shadows and gather support. When the time is 
right, he will engineer an incident involving the Salubri that 
will cast doubt and suspicion on you."

	"We should strike first," the only woman in the group 
chimed in. She was not as impeccably dressed as the others and 
she held a rat in her arms, of all things. "Hit him before he 
hits us."

	"Wrong move, Zoe," Jared, a thin blond, replied. "If we 
move on his it will only strengthen his hand. He'll say that if 
we move on him for merely saying things about the Salubri then 
we must be under its influence."

	"Her. The Salubri is a female," Darien said, almost to 
himself.

	"My Prince, whatever her gender, we must move cautiously 
now. You have left us vulnerable," Keiran said.

	"We could still fix things," Zoe said fiercely. "If we 
killed her and the singer--"

	Darien's fist closed around Zoe's neck before the other 
could react. "YOU-WILL-NOT-HARM-RAYE!" he thundered. "She is my 
consort. I will deal with her, not you."

	"Yes, my Prince," Zoe croaked. Satisfied, Darien dropped 
her to the ground.

	"I know what I have done is risky. Dorfmann says we should 
kill the Salubri, but giving in to him on ANYTHING feels like 
subtle erosion of our power. He is a spider, scuttling in the 
dark. We need him to come out into the day so we can squash 
him." Darien considered the problem silently. "Maxwell?"

	"Yes, my Prince?"

	"You will continue speaking with Dr. Price. If we can make 
any headway on undermining Dorfmann's control of his clan, it 
will simplify things for us."

	"Yes, my Prince."

	"Jared?"

	"Yes, my Prince?"

	"You will keep an eye on Raye and the Salubri. I want to 
know of ANYTHING suspicious that you see."

	Jared nodded obediently.

	"Kieran, Zoe, I'm getting reports that the Sabbat are 
making another move in Southeast. Find them and crush them by 
whatever means necessary... within the Masquerade, of course."

	"Yes, my Prince," they both said.

	Darien dismissed them and turned to the window. The storm 
clouds covering the city matched his mood perfectly.

*****

	"I'm SINGING in the rain, just singing in the rain!" Mina 
sang at the top of her lungs as she danced down the street. 
There were few onlookers to comment on her behavior because of 
the downpour and those few that were about avoided her as she 
jumped from one puddle to the next, splashing anyone who 
happened to be nearby.

	One of those onlookers, while keeping his distance, was 
careful to not lose sight of the Malkavian, however. He matched 
her pace carefully as she moved. It was almost too easy, 
actually, he thought. He doubled checked to make sure that his 
gun was relatively dry beneath his coat.

	"--what a GLORIOUS feeling! I'm HAPPY again!" Minako belted 
out, her random turnings carrying her into an alley. 
Unconcerned, she kept singing, not even noticing the man running 
up behind her.

	He raised his gun, a sawed off shotgun, and fired, catching 
the Malkavian at the knees. With a screech of pain, Mina fell. 
Her legs were nothing more than bleeding pieces of meat.

	"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down," Mina whimpered.

	The man came up behind her, amazed at how easy this was. He 
pulled a wooden stake from his coat and held it up. "Die, unholy 
beast," he spat.

	Something snarled in the shadows.

	Startled, he turned to bring his gun to bear, but it was 
much, much too late by that point. He only saw a dark blur with 
violet eyes rushing him, then his head was torn from his 
shoulders.

	"God bless us, every one," Mina muttered, trying to turn 
over on her shattered legs. She was surprised when the body of 
her assailant was dropped in front of her. Looking up, Mina 
blinked at the shaggy twelve-year old who was watching her with 
strangely cat-like eyes.

	"Um, Itadakimasu?" Mina said. The cat-girl merely cocked 
her head to one side and said nothing. Mina shrugged and the 
pain of that action reminded her of the injuries to her legs. 
Crawling over to the body, she buried her teeth into the stump 
of his neck and began to drink.

	Hannah watched carefully as Mina fed. The blonde's legs 
began to heal almost immediately. The feral vampire seemed 
satisfied and began to lick her claws, getting them clean of 
every drop of blood.

*****

	Raye let Serena into her apartment and the two of them 
stood there, staring at the floor for a moment.

	"It's not much," Raye said.

	"It's fine. I have some money--"

	"No, it's OK."

	"You sure, Raye? I don't--"

	Raye walked into her living room. "It's my fault that you--
I mean, I suggested that we go to the Prince and present you."

	"It's not your fault!" Serena protested. The blonde vampire 
walked over to Raye and enfolded her in a tight hug. "You did 
what you thought was right."

	Raye tried to break free of the other girl but found her 
grip to be quite unbreakable. "Serena, it's a good thing I don't 
have to breathe any more."

	"Huh? Oh!" Serena let go of the other girl, a faint blush 
rising in her cheeks.

	Raye shook her head at Serena's actions. She had never met 
such a vampire. "Serena, things are going to be difficult for a 
while, you know," she began, carefully understating the truth. 
Things were going to be FAR worse than "difficult."

	"I know, Raye. I'll be careful."

	"The Prince has made me responsible for you," Raye 
continued, her voice growing colder. "If you fuck up, it'll be 
my head, understand?"

	Serena looked up at Raye with eyes brimming with blood 
tears. Raye wanted to kick herself. She hadn't meant to be so 
harsh...

	"I'm sorry, Serena. I'm just hungry, that's all." She 
stepped over to the refrigerator in her spotless (and seldom-
used) kitchen.

	"Raye?" came a plaintive voice behind her.

	Raye opened the refrigerator door and began shuffling 
through the blood bags hanging there, looking for the freshest 
ones. "Yeah?"

	"Do you hate me?

	Raye stopped searching through the bags. Without turning 
from the refrigerator, she said, "Why would you think that?"

	"You haven't looked directly at me since we left the 
Prince's place."

	Raye straightened up and looked over in Serena's direction. 
"It's not because I hate you, Serena. Do you remember what 
happened when we met?"

	"Oh, yeah. You spaced out or something."

	Raye gritted her teeth. It was not an inaccurate 
description of her condition, but still...

	"I did not 'space out.' It's the curse of the Toreador 
Clan. Doesn't your bloodline have something like it?"

	Serena shuffled her feet. "Yeah... we can't feed from 
someone if they resist us."

	Raye blinked. "How on earth do you feed, then? Ghouls?" she 
asked, thinking of Chad. He was sexually addicted to her Kiss, 
but she couldn't feed off him all the time.

	"No, no. Luna didn't believe in keeping ghouls."

	"Then Blood Dolls?"

	"No," Serena said, shaking her head. "Luna... just asked 
them. She had a number of people who gave her blood. But I had 
to drink out of bags a lot."

	"Well, then, this won't be too bad." Raye got out two bags 
from the refrigerator and offered Serena the fresher one. "It's 
the best I've got, Chateau O Positive," she joked uncomfortably.

	Serena opened the bag and made a face at the smell of cold 
blood laced with anti-coagulants.

	Raye sighed. "Dummy. You should have at least waited for me 
to nuke it." She placed her own bag into a microwave oven and 
heated it. It was never the same as drinking from a warm, mortal 
body. She could feel the Beast rattling its cage again.

	"Here," she said, handing the warm blood to Serena and 
taking back the cold.

	"No, you should have it. I was stupid," Serena protested.

	"You're the guest. Now drink." She held up her own bag. 
"Cheers," she said before downing it. There was no rush of 
adrenaline, no ecstasy. Still, it was better than rats.

	Serena drank hers, grimacing as well. The young Salubri had 
never managed to convince herself that drinking blood was 
"normal."

	The two of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, then 
Raye cleared her throat. "Why don't we go into the living room?"

	Serena nodded.

	Stepping into the red and black room did nothing for their 
conversation, but at least there was a television to cover the 
silence. Raye sat at one end of the couch while Serena sat at 
the other. Some vapid sitcom played out before them but neither 
paid it any attention.

	"Thank you," Serena said at last.

	"For what?"

	"Getting the Prince to unstake me."

	"It was his decision. I didn't have anything to do with 
it."

	"You vouched for me. You don't even know me and you vouched 
for me."

	Raye looked away. "I saw your soul, before. No one as evil 
as Dorfmann made the Salubri sound could have faked what I saw. 
Even with the diablerie."

	"I didn't want to do it--"

	"You carry her soul now, you know. Or what's left of it for 
us. She will never find any peace as long as you exist."

	Serena's eyes widened. "I don't think it works that way. 
Luna didn't talk about it, but--"

	"You devoured everything that made her who she was. Her 
power is now in your veins. How can you claim otherwise?"

	Serena shuffled her feet. "Because the soul isn't something 
that can be trapped. Luna taught me that the soul is all that 
matters in the end, and it is eternal. I didn't really 
understand it. She was much smarter than me."

	"It wouldn't take much," Raye said with a snort.

	"She is at peace, Raye. I know it." Serena reached over and 
took Raye's hand in her own. "She had conquered her Beast and 
done everything she was destined to do. It was time for her to 
move on."

	Raye stared down at the small hand. It was pale and 
delicate, almost perfect, but it took little imagination to see 
it covered with blood. "We're monsters, Serena," she whispered. 
"The Beast cannot be conquered. It gnaws at our souls until 
nothing is left."

	"That's not true."

	"How do you know?"

	Serena shrugged. "I just do."

	"Well, thank you! That clears everything up!" Raye snarled. 
"What's next, you're going to be the first vampire Pope?"

	Serena made a face. "Would I have to wear the hat? I don't 
like the hat."

	Raye just stared at Serena for a moment, totally 
uncomprehending. Then the image of Serena, with her blonde hair 
in that ridiculous "meatball" style trying to wear the Pope's 
hat made her burst out in giggles. The sound of it surprised 
even her.

	Serena smiled. "Monsters don't laugh out of joy, Raye." She 
leaned over and lay her head on Raye's shoulder. "And they don't 
risk their lives for people they hardly know." She closed her 
eyes.

	Raye looked down at the strange girl. Serena's action had, 
whether she meant it consciously or not, bared her throat to the 
singer. Raye could still see the ragged marks made by her teeth 
when she had attacked Serena. The claw and fang marks of another 
vampire were always slow to heal. She gently ran a finger over 
them and Serena whimpered slightly. Slowly Raye leaned over and 
placed her lips on the marks. The Beast screamed inside its 
cage, demanding that she drink all Serena had, to take her power 
for her own. But she resisted, and instead ran her tongue over 
them, slowly. Serena's whimpers became a soft moan as the mark 
was erased from her flesh. Every vampire could do that to the 
wounds they themselves made.

	Raye pulled back from Serena's skin and looked again on the 
girl with her aura sight. She could see the pink clouds of 
innocence and purity and she drowned herself in the sight, as if 
they would wash away her own guilt. Not even the black veins of 
diablerie distracted her tonight and they lay there together for 
hours, neither moving nor wanting to move.

*****

	Mina carefully tried to stand up. Her legs were still a 
little weak, but she could manage. No more singing in the rain, 
unfortunately. And it was showtunes night!

	"Thanks!" she said cheerfully to the dirty little girl who 
was still licking her hands fastidiously. "My name is Mina! 
What's yours?"

	Hannah looked up and seemed puzzled by the question. She 
opened her mouth, but nothing came out besides a plaintive 
mewing noise.

	Mina blinked at this. "Can't you talk?"

	Hannah tried again, wondering why she bothered. This one 
was her kind, but was not. Why had she helped her in the first 
place?

	"Han-nah," she managed at last. It barely sounded human.

	"It's a lovely name, Hannah," Mina said. "Hannah and her 
Sisters, Sister, Sister, Sister Act, Action Jackson--" She 
suddenly stopped and looked at Hannah curiously. "What was I 
saying?"

	Hannah shook her head.

	"No matter! Can you sing?"

	Hannah shook her head again.

	"Try it! It's fun! Here, let's try this one. 'Memories--'"

	Hannah opened her mouth and let out a yowl.

	"Okay, okay, you've seen the musical. Don't blame you, 
either. What shall we sing, then?

	Fortunately Hannah was spared any more singing as another 
figure stumbled into the alley. She dropped instinctively to all 
fours and hissed at the newcomer. 

	"Lyta!" Mina said. "Lyta-pyta-bo-byta-bannana-fanna-fo-
fyta, fe-fi-fo-fyta, Lyta!"

	Lyta shook her head. She looked a mess, with her makeup 
running and her hair plastered to her face. "Oh, it's you, 
kook."

	"I'm not a kook! I'm eccentric!"

	"Who's your friend?" Lyta asked, running a shaking hand 
through her hair. Noticing this, she tried to gain control. She 
didn't know what that Sabbat witch had done, but she had been 
running scared for hours. Even now she found herself eyeing the 
shadows fearfully.

	Hannah hissed again. Mina grabbed her by the scruff of her 
neck and shook her. "Bad Hannah! Lyta's a friend."

	"A Gangrel? Damn, kook, your taste in friends is improving. 
At least she's not imaginary."

	"Mr. Snuffleupagus is REAL!"

	"Whatever. Hey kid, how ya doing? I'm Lyta."

	Hannah looked up at the bedraggled punk girl and let out a 
meow. Frustrated, she tried again.

	"Damn, she must be older than she looks," Lyta said to 
Mina. "Or the Gangrel curse has hit her harder than most."

	Hannah blinked her catlike-eyes at that.

	"Who's your sire, Hannah?" Lyta tried again. At the same 
time, she wondered if she was slipping. This would be the second 
newcomer she would have urged to follow the Traditions in a 
week. Some Anarch she was turning out to be. Of course, neither 
Serena nor Hannah were exactly cut out for the life of a rebel.

	Hannah shook her head.

	"Well, Mina, looks like you've picked up another stray."

	"She followed me home! Can I keep her?"

	Lyta smacked the Malkavian on the head lightly. Mina 
wobbled back and forth like some deranged punching bag for a 
moment. "No, you Kook. She'll have to be presented to the 
Prince."

	"Why?"

	"Because of the Traditions."

	"Why?"

	"Because she'll be killed if she doesn't!"

	"Why?"

	"Are you doing that on purpose?"

	"Why?"

	Lyta ground her teeth together and started to count to ten. 
At least she was no longer afraid. "Come on, I guess I better 
take her to Raye's. Hope the songbird doesn't mind ANOTHER 
complication." And I can get her to tell the Prince about the 
Sabbat, she thought.

*****

	"I thought I knew Enochian, but this is almost 
incomprehensible," Amy said, showing her lover then pages she 
had scanned from the mysterious book. A book that even now was 
buried so deep in the library of the Tremere that it would take 
a miracle for someone else to find it.

	Greg pursed his lips as he looked over the images. Once she 
had finished scanning the book, she had brought the laptop over 
to his apartment to show him. "It's either in some sort of code 
or an archaic form of Enochian that you weren't taught." He 
looked over at her. "Perhaps it's another form of control for 
your clan? Keep the young apprentices from reading the truly 
important stuff?"

	"Maybe," she said, frustrated with her inability to read 
the words on the screen. She snarled at it, feeling the urge to 
pick up the laptop and smash it against a wall.

	"Hey," Greg said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. 
"You OK?"

	Amy blinked and quickly smothered her Beast beneath a layer 
of hastily recited multiplication tables. 3492x2353 is....

	Recognizing the look on her face, Greg stood back for a 
moment. Having a vampire lover was somewhat akin to wrestling on 
eggshells. After a moment, Amy smiled up at him. "I guess I'm 
just hungry," she said.

	His eyebrows raised in an exaggerated leer. "We can't have 
that, can we?" he said, leaning down to kiss her.

	She grabbed his head and almost bruised his lips with her 
kiss, Hunger adding to her lust. Neither of them knew how, but 
they were suddenly on their feet and stumbling over to the bed, 
kissing and stroking each other. Amy's hands found the buttons 
of his shirt and ripped them off, baring his chest. He shuddered 
in desire as her cold tongue ran over his nipple.

	"Amy," Greg moaned. She growled low in her throat and 
shoved him away. He landed on his bed with a grunt. Looking up, 
he saw his love slowly begin to peel off her clothes, to reveal 
the pale lavender bra and panties she wore. As he watched, she 
began to stalk toward him, licking her lips. 

	She crawled up onto the bed on all fours to loom over him. 
"Mine," she growled throatily, her glowing red eyes locked on 
his.

	"Yours," he agreed softly, whimpering slightly as she began 
to grind her hips against his pelvis. The satiny fabric of her 
bra rubbed against this chest, and he could feel two little 
bumps behind it. It made his head swim.

	She sat back up then and reached behind her back to unclasp 
her bra. It fell down onto his stomach and he reached up to 
stroke the pale white orbs they had covered. Her hands covered 
his, forcing him to stroke and rub her breasts harder, even 
while she ground her crotch against his. Leaning up, he took one 
of her nipples into his mouth and sucked as hard as he could on 
it.

	"Yesssss..." Amy moaned. She reached down to fumble with 
his pants, but couldn't seem to deal with the belt. Snarling 
with impatience, she forced her hands to lengthen into claws and 
sliced the belt and pants away. She also cut into Greg's skin 
and he winced as blood began to flow.

	This did not dissuade Amy. If anything, it excited her even 
more. She pulled back, taking the remains of his pants with her. 
She planted her mouth on one of the cuts and began to drink. He 
hissed in pain as her tongue probed the cut, then his body 
reacted as the vampiric kiss overloaded his mind with pleasure. 
The cuts sealed up under Amy's tongue and she looked up at him, 
blood dripping from her lips.

	"Amy, please..." he moaned. She stroked his hardness and he 
whimpered as he felt the claws scratch at it gently.

	"Please..." he whimpered again, and then his goddess 
relented. She lowered herself onto him and he gasped again, this 
time at the cold. It was like sticking his member into a bucket 
of ice and feeling it harden around you. But then his stolen 
blood gave warmth to the flesh and she began to move her hips 
against his.

	"Mine," she said again, leaning over him, controlling the 
rhythm, blood still covering her lips. His hands found her 
breasts again and she through her head back in pleasure...

	...and then buried her fangs in his neck.

	Greg gasped as pleasure hit him from two sides and his body 
stiffened as he came, filling her with his seed. Amy's body 
shuddered as his orgasm released all sorts of chemicals into his 
blood, which flowed into her and made her dead body react in a 
living way.

	Then they both collapsed, Amy drinking reflexively as the 
Beast demanded its own satiation. Greg's magic flared as his 
blood left his body, some of it going into Ami with the stolen 
essence, the rest replenishing his supply, making it impossible 
for Amy to take too much.

	For a long time, they just lay there, until Amy had drunk 
her fill.

	"I'm sorry I hurt you," Amy whispered at last, her hand 
running idly over his chest.

	"It's alright," he said quietly, one arm over her bare 
shoulder.

	"It just... it feels so good," she said, blood tears 
splashing on his shoulder.

	"I know." What else could he say?

	"You should leave me."

	"Never." He tightened his grip on her.

	"Greg... I wish I had known you as a normal girl. I wish--" 
I wish I knew what it was like for a living girl.

	"I'll find a way," he whispered. "Just wait for me." He 
kissed her on the forehead and held her close.

*****

	Raye was startled from her examination of Serena's aura by 
a pounding on her door. She had no way of knowing exactly how 
long she had lain there, lost in the beauty she had seen. 
Serena, she noted, had fallen asleep or at least into a dream 
state. 

	Strictly speaking, vampires didn't need to sleep, although 
they did enter a state similar to torpor during the day. All 
sentient beings dream, however, and some vampires could achieve 
a state of altered consciousness that allowed them waking 
dreams. They preferred their internal world to the horrors of 
their eternal night. Serena must be far more mentally focused 
than she appeared.

	Then the blonde began to snore.

	Raye looked at her in disbelief. She KNEW Serena was a 
vampire, but she had never--NO vampire could be this human. It 
just wasn't possible!

	The banging at her door drew her back to reality and she 
hurried over. She wondered who could be visiting her this late 
at night. Peering through the peephole soon answered that 
question, though she cursed a little. The scowl on her face did 
little to scare off the rather bedraggled looking trio that 
shuffled into her foyer.

	"Lyta, WHAT are you doing back here? Didn't you get me into 
ENOUGH trouble with Serena to fill your Anarch quota?"

	"Look, Raye, you know I didn't mean for all that to happen, 
but please, ya gotta put us up for the night."

	"We'll just stay in your attic until we can escape to 
America. I'll keep a diary showing how we deal with the 
hardships of hiding from the authorities!"

	"Get a grip, Anne Frank," Lyta said as she pulled Mina 
inside. "This is Hannah," she said, indicating the young girl.

	"Don't tell me--"

	"She's one of us. A Gangrel, by the look. I don't think 
she's been given the lowdown or been presented."

	"Monsters," Raye muttered.

	"What?"

	"Only monsters could make such a young girl one of us," 
Raye said.

	"Hey, I'm not saying that her Sire is at the top of my 
charts, either, but I couldn't just leave her out there."

	"Since when have you become the enforcer of the 
traditions?"

	"Man, would you lay off for a second?" Lyta almost 
screamed. "Raye, there's something important I have to tell 
you!"

	Raye was stunned for a moment, then began to get ready to 
yell back when she changed her mind. Lyta was too agitated for 
this to be prank or a joke. With difficulty, she reined in her 
temper. "Fine. What?"

	"I was attacked by one of the Sabbat in Purgatory, tonight. 
She--I don't know what she did, but it sent me running. Me!"

	"How do you know she wasn't a Malkavian pulling your chain, 
claiming to be a Sabbat?"

	"I keep TELLING you guys, there are no such things as 
Malkavians! I'm a Samedi!"

	Raye fought down a phantom nausea as Mina suddenly appeared 
to be a rotting corpse. The Samedi were a particularly repulsive 
bloodline that appeared to always be on the verge of decomposing 
into a puddle of goo. A gathering of them looked like Night of 
the Living Dead remake. She was glad that vampires couldn't 
actually vomit, but watching Mina's illusion drip rather 
realistic green slime onto her carpet--wait a minute.

	"Mina, would you stop pouring Slurpee all over my floor?"

	"It's not a Slurpee! It's the fluids of my rotting body! 
Whee!"

	"Look, take Hannah and get some blood. It's in the 
refrigerator."

	"Sure thing! Come on, Hannah!" Mina said as she resumed her 
natural form.

	"Now, how do you know she was really a Sabbat?" Raye asked 
as Mina ran into the kitchen, arms outstretched and making 
airplane noises.

	"Look, I know the difference between Malkavian crazy and 
Sabbat crazy. She was Sabbat. Besides, a Malkavian couldn't 
control shadows like that. That's a Lasombra thing.

	I may start to believe that Lyta IS a Brujah philosopher, 
Raye thought. She had never realized how much Lyta knew. It was 
hard to imagine someone who looked like a biker chick poring 
over ancient tomes. But then, perhaps that's part of the reason 
she acts like a biker chick.

	"Great. More bad news to tell the Prince."

	A loud splat came from the kitchen. "Raye? Got any Jell-O?" 
Mina said.

	"Not blood Jell-O again," Raye groaned.

*****

Mercury	Amy, Tremere
Venus		Mina, Malkavian
Moon		Serena, Salubri
Earth		Darien, Ventrue
Mars		Raye, Toreador
Jupiter	Lyta, Brujah
Saturn	Hannah, Gangrel
Uranus	Erica, Tzimsce
Neptune	Michelle, Lasombra
Pluto		Susanna, True Brujah

Jadeite	Jared, Ventrue
Nephrite	Maxwell, Tremere
Zoisite	Zoe, Gangrel
Kunzite	Kieran, Old-style Lasombra