The Windy City in Spring

Tremens Blog

Landing in Chicago

Chicago. This is home for me. As in I grew up here. My family roots are deep in the muck that is Chicagoland. Gary, Chicago, Evanston, all old stomping grounds for me. Here I am on a plane flying into Chicago. I wish I felt better about being here.

The last time I was here I was on the run from the Kindred of Denver. The Prince had made a shit show of using a visiting Ventrue as a patsy. He would have gotten away with it if he hadn't hired me to investigate some other events that coincidentally led me to his whole charade. He tried to pay me off, tried to buy my silence. I was pretty pissed when I figured out that I had been used as his foil and refused to put up with it. When I revealed to the primogen what he had done, he blew a gasket.

I decided I wasn't okay with him holding the Ventrue against her will for no reason so I went to break her out. Lets be real here for a second...it was a stupid move. The only thing that saved my impetuous ass was that it was such an off the wall attack that it caught the Prince's boys with their pants down. Duke, one of his bodyguards, met me at the front door.

Now for the record, the vampiric body is pretty damn tough, we can defend against most things pretty well. A couple of bullets? No problem. Sure it hurts some, but easy to heal. Now 60 rounds ripped out at point blank range across where the neck connects the head? That'll do, pig. That'll do. I cut that poor bastard like a ban saw through fresh beef. Before he could even begin to turn to ash I ran deep into the Prince's haven and broke the girl free. She jumped a plane for Europe...I just pulled stakes and ran.

Over the course of a week with the help of my two ghouls Jennine and Carrie. Being here again brings pangs for the girls. They were abandoned by the system and I picked them up off the street. I cared for them both, feeding, clothing, and keeping them safe from the predators of Denver. I thought the safe thing was to make them my ghouls so I didn't have to worry about their loyalty. I actually wouldn't have anyway, but I didn't know at the time. When I ran from Denver with the Feds half a step behind me the girls couldn't keep up. They got picked up by the FBI and detained. I couldn't help them, and they were essentially safe, so I didn't go back for them. I guess it was my loyalty that was questionable.

I don't want to be here. Chicago is a mess of emotions for me. But I need to know what happened here to my family, my sister and her kids. In New York I met a Settite named Steven a while back, he came up with some answers that might yield some solutions, or a shit ton more questions. I'm betting on the questions.

Steven is black, his skin still very dark, even with the pallor of death on him. He has a very aristocratic agreeable face. He is slender, perhaps 5'10" in height. His hair is nappy and coiled into dreads. In the roll of his vowels you can hear the Jamaican Islands in his speech. He seems a decent Spade, for all the bad things that I hear about the Followers of Set. Seems five years ago he got crossways with Sancerique in New York. Sancerique had him poisoned. Being a tough bird Steven went into torpor instead of just dying like the rest of his men. We agreed to help each other...seemed a good idea at the time.

Behind me in second class are my niece, nephew, and the older woman who has been helping me care for them the last four years. I am bringing them back to the family seat because I had to declare war back in New York in order to protect the domain I was given. I pissed in a bad guys Cheerios. He is gonna want some payback. The kids are just sitting ducks during the day without me. At night too, I have things I have to do, and can't sit and protect them.

The kids have been a good thing for me. I needed a reason to not be a monster. I needed a reason to climb out of the hole of death and destruction I was sliding towards. Though this whole morals and consequences thing makes being a vampire much harder. My life is much easier without all those morals, but also very dark and empty. Bad enough that I eat the flesh of the dead and drink the blood of the living...for a while there I was a real whirlwind of destruction. Sad when the Sabbat is the eye of the storm...the calm place to recover.

I feel the plane get cold. Not temperature cold. Supernatural cold. As in the dead are walking by. So I take a deep breath and look across the shroud. My vision greys out. I can see a shattered plane, wires hanging, blood and bits on the walls. Somebodies body chunks on the floor. I look out the window and see a figure crawling up the wing of the plane. It is broken, limbs bent wrong. It's a ghost, a wraith, whatever you want to call it.

Taking the next step I use the senses of the creature. Whoever it was, the eyesight sucks. It doesn't feel the wind, or the rain. I watch is slide through a crack in the plane that will be there someday. It begins to examine the passengers looking for someone. I notice it seems to be looking at men closely. If I were alive, I would be getting goose bumps. What are the chances? Luckily it seems to be at the back of the plane, and moving slowly in an odd fashion.

I get up and go back, balancing the view of the dead lands, and the reality my body has to move through. I mumble something to Steven, letting him know I will be back. I am sure he is giving me a weird look. I pass the stewardess, she is going to die of a head wound. I see a couple of heart attacks, a couple of strokes. Being able to see others deaths isn't for the weak of stomach. Taking my time I finally get to where the wraith is looking passengers over. I can see it...her.

She is a brunette. And her body is pretty messed up. My logical brain categorizes the damage...either she was in a car wreck or a building fell on her. With her back to me I feel a tug of recognition. When she turns toward me my stomach drops to my feet. It's Susan.

Susan Catherine Allegria Hall. My wife. The reason I fought back from the depths of my ptsd after Nam. The person who kept me going so that I graduated college with a medical degree. The mother to Catherine...the one in the end I couldn't maintain without. Losing Susan tore my grasp of reality away. I swirled back into the darkness of the war. My grief was so deep I only kept going because of Catherine. But everywhere I turned I saw Susan. I could swear some nights I would wake up after her death and smell her next to me. I was sure some mornings she had just kissed me.

But this wasn't that Susan. This was the after death Susan. This was the memory she had of her mortal body, of the pain she suffered before she died. I knew if she would will it, that her corpus would heal itself, but she might not know that. I didn't want to talk to her. I sure as Hell didn't want her to find me here. Who knows what a mess she might cause in the skin lands if she freaked out here. Of all the ghosts from my past I dealt with...I am still not comfortable with her.

I went back to the front, and heard the Captain say we were landing soon. Thank God. I just wanted to get away from her. She didn't make it into first class with me until we were on the ground. I grabbed Steven, and we were the first ones off the plane. He looked at me like I was mental, and I suppose in this case I am. As we started out of the cabin, I glanced back and saw her lean over my seat, smelling me. Her wail cut my senses still attuned to the deadlands and I heard her cry out pitifully.

"TREMEN!"

I practically ran from the plane.

A Place to Call Home

Steven knows fuck all about Chicago.

I got us a cab. Because I have been on the run before, I have been thinking about where I will go to avoid the sun. Did I mention that this is my home? My parents lived here all my life. My grandparents too. I happen to know that unless my brother Albert sold it, my Grandfathers townhouse is empty... or at least not occupied. Actually its a gamble, I am playing the odds of what I know of my eldest brother.

Albert made his fortune before I graduated high school. He built several businesses. He was too influential to be drafted. So when Grandpa died, Albert bought it from Dad, because he had good memories there. Albert doesn't need the money from the sale, and he wouldn't want anyone to destroy it so he wouldn't rent it. Maybe he keeps it for a private get away from time to time. I don't know. I do know that unless something has happened it will be locked up and empty. Besides, can I hope that being in Gary will put us out of the way from the majority of Kindred politics?

I had the cabbie drop us three blocks away. I didn't want any surprises. I could smell the lake. It's spring...May to be exact. The night is cool with rain, but I don't mind the water coming down. I can hear sirens in the distance, but they are not for me, so I don't mind. We both use our abilities to be hard to see. The streets are pretty quiet. Not much in the way of homeless or graffiti here.

The house is as I remember it. The front yard shows neglect on a minor level. Albert is probably paying someone to come and do some upkeep, but no one is living here. I look and Listen, using my senses to feel the house for life. Nothing. We walked around to the alley. There is a stout fence in back, but I know where the spare key is hidden. We unlock, relock, and go up to the back door. It looks like kids have jumped the fence and partied in the back. But the ground floor windows have bars, no one has been in the house. As I have the spare key in my hand, I unlock the back door, and we are in.

The house stands still and empty. I hear some mice...but other than that, it is cool and there is no sign of humanity living here. The furniture is covered with sheets. The gas stove is set very low, just enough to keep this old house from freezing the pipes. We make sure the house is secure, then decide what to do next.

Out For a Little Drink

Steven is hungry. Still shrugging off whatever poison Sancerique gave him, he needs to feed, and flush the poison from his system. Easy feeding is at clubs. Clubs mean mortals and vampires. In this town other Supernaturals will be around too, but hopefully we won't bump uglies with any of them.

We leave and lock back up. I know of a place. I scouted it the last time I was in town, called the Succubus Club. It's a really happening place. Lines out the door and everything. I use my Presence, and we move to the front of the line. The doorman smiles at us and lets us in. I don't know this guy from Adam. He can tell we are Kindred. That is both a good sign and a bad.

The place is full of people. The music is loud. No, it's LOUD. I could set off C4 here and people would think the bass had dropped. Steven grinned and moved off into the crowd. He was guaranteed a drink in here. I do the same. I am hungry for flesh, but this isn't the place for that.

I go downstairs and see some kids necking. I watch them, they use a pen knife to make small cuts to themselves, and begin sucking from the wounds. I have heard of blood dolls, but never seen it. Man I feel old. I also feel the Hunger rise, the smell of blood making my insides clench. I go over, smiling. I turn on my Presence, making myself less threatening. They smile and link arms with me. They pull me into a tunnel off the dance floor, laughing and grinning. I notice some guys dragging along, but there doesn't seem to be any threat. We pass a couple of rooms with people doing things in them, smoking pot, having sex. We all pile into the first open room we find.

Once there we fall on cushions that I am glad I can't see. The girls smell yummy, but the room reeks of old sex, drugs, urine, and beer. One of them lifts her arm to my mouth, it's open wound smelling like ambrosia. I nick myself, letting them begin to lick my richer vitae as I begin to suck life from them. The instant my mouth locks on her and I begin feeding, I hear her go into orgasm, experiencing the power of my Kiss. I feed on each of them in turn. I wind up satisfied, and got up leaving them drunk on my blood. Now if there were just a corpse laying around to munch on...I would be set.

I wander out, trying to remember how I got here. It's dark here, without my Auspex I would be totally lost. I move forward, passing rooms I had seen before. Coming back out, I found myself at the edge of the dance floor, realizing that there was a sunken dance area I hadn't seen before as I was concentrating on my meal.

I hear chanting off to my right, and see yet another lower section, with people standing around the edges as two men fight. The chanting crowd is egging them on. As I watch, I can see them wielding broken beer bottles. Abruptly one of them stabs the other in the neck, and it is all over. The crowd seems to draw in a collective breath...only the throb of the music holds the area. Suddenly people can't get out of the lower mosh pit fast enough.

I look up and lock gazes with an amazingly beautiful woman. She has dark hair, dark eyes. Her skin is flawless, I can see the ample swell of her breasts, her body calling to me. The gurgling of the dying man draws my gaze, and when I look back she is gone. Recovering my senses I jump to the mosh pit and move to the man, trying to stay out of the blood pool on the floor. There is nothing I can do for this guy, he has bled out in that short amount of time. I carefully pick him up and take him to the maze where I was a few minutes ago. He's dead, he won't miss some flesh for me to eat.

Stop!

Once I had eaten a bite and cleaned up I went back out to the main part of the club. Well fed on all fronts, I began to search for Steven. Luckily enough as I moved up to the main floor I saw two guys dragging him to the door. They looked rough, lots of denim and leather, a few tattoos, bikers I would assume. I yelled "Stop!", but they ignored me.

As the doors popped open I saw a couple motorcycles idling nearby. One of them slammed the double doors shut as I ran toward them. I could hear the rev of engines over the noise of the music. I hit the door at a run, finding they had dropped a padlocked chain around the handles. I pulled on some of my borrowed blood and the door handles tore off of the door. One of the bikers threw a lit molotov at me as they roared away, I dodged and it splattered on the pavement with a roar. My beast screamed in fear at the flames, but I pushed it down and kept running.

Obviously I could never keep up on foot, so I took stock of the parking lot. Some guy was getting in a nice little Beamer. I ran over to him, him looking up at me in alarm. As our eyes made contact I said "I am borrowing your care". He nodded, and handed me the keys. To the credit of the Beamer, it purred to life and handled well. I could just see the tail lights of the bikes as I left the lot.

The 5 Series Sedan hugged the road, and I used it to dodge through traffic. We had a couple narrow misses, but I caught up to the last of the bikers without a problem. He didn't have Steven, so I clipped his bike with the car, sending him spinning. The next guy saw me coming and did some good driving. We dodged around. I saw him pull something from his pack, and he spray painted my windshield black. Enraged I hit his bike with the car. I saw him tumble to the side. Some second sense warned me of impact, and I braced myself. Driving blind, I t-boned a car. Airbags saved me, and the fact that my vampiric flesh just doesn't take mortal damage at all.

I kicked the door open. I first went to make sure the driver of the other car was okay. She is, and she is screaming profanity at me. I can't blame her. I look back up the street to the biker who blinded the windshield. He is still sprawled out there, his heavy bike laying on him.

I walked over to him carefully, mindful of guns. I don't want to heal if I don't have to. He has other issues on his mind. Like his broken legs. I step over to him, actually surprised he's in as good of shape as he is.

"Where are they taking my friend?" I ask.

"Fuck! I don't know. You really fucked me up. Fuck that hurts!" He yelled at me. A growl starts inside of me. I stick my foot over his exposed knee, placing a little weight on it. He screams more profanity at me. i let up and ask again.

"Where did they take Steven?"

"Aw Christ! I don't know, a warehouse I think. I don't know the address! I swear to God I don't know." I leaned on that open, shattered joint again, seeing if the answer would change. He screamed a lot more, but the answer stayed the same.

"Okay, now why did you take Steven?" I asked, watching him closely.

"I'm not saying anything else you blood suckin Bastard!" He yelled at me. I shook my head. He's not very bright, but pretty useful. He just told me that they knew we were vampires. I leaned on his exposed bone again, making it grind against it's other part. His howls split the night.

"Is that why you took Steven? Because he's a vampire?" I asked mildly while he screamed. He nodded, tears streaming from his eyes.

"So you knew we were vampires. Who do you work for?" I said easing up the pressure.

"We were needing a fix, so we grabbed him. We thought he was alone. Should have known better. You fucks travel together a lot. We're not workin for any vampires anymore. We been cruising for vampire blood for a while now. We got a taste for it in Kentucky, and been scoring a little here and there." He answered. Independent ghouls, how nice.

I changed tack once he had begun to get his breath. "You know where the warehouse is?" He nodded emphatically. Okay then. I pulled his bike off of him, before picking him up. He screamed a little, then passed out. I carried him to the curb. Another woman stopped, to see if she could help. I felt bad, but I pointed the bikers gun at her, and told her to move away from the car. Picking up the biker I put him in the drivers seat. I held the gun to his head, slit my wrist with a piece of glass from the ground, and let him drink from me. He took it greedily, loving the taste. I gave him just enough to see his flesh begin to knit back together. I didn't want him perfect, but I did want him to not pass out or die on me. The healing properties of my blood worked on him, he became less sallow, his eyes cleared. Once I thought he was in a good place, I pulled my wrist away. He immediately began to complain.

I put the gun back to his head and told him to drive. He did, with me watching his every move. As we drove he told me his name was McCarthy, and that his group was part of the Hells Angels back in the day.

Sweep and Clear

We arrived at the warehouse, I had him stop a couple of blocks away. Because of the open area around it, we could see it pretty clearly. I counted four dobermans. Damn, dogs are a pain to get by. McCarthy started yammering about how I couldn't get past the dogs, on account of they kept them hungry so that they would kill anyone who entered the fenced area. This dude was really getting on my nerves.

I was thinking about how I really needed some fresh meat to feed them when my hunger awoke, and I became aware again of McCarthy's open wounds. "How about you? I am thinking that you can get me through the dogs. With all that blood you have all over you, I'm betting you will be way more tempting than me." I said it in a whisper, leaning into his ear.

He blanched. He started to sweat again. I wasn't real sure that he hadn't almost pissed himself before he got a grip. I got out of the back, and opened the door for him. I have to admit, I wasn't ready for him to bolt.

That fat man took off like his hair was on fire and his ass was catching. I growled "Fuck" in a soft voice and ran after him. He was fast for a big man. I touched my vampiric speed and caught up to him. At full speed I kicked one foot behind the other, and watched his fat ass hit the ground hard and roll. He tore open all the road rash and cuts from his bike crash. I heard his forearm snap. This guy...I really didn't like this guy. I kicked him in the broken arm. He squealed and clutched it. "You do something that stupid again, and you had better hope that all I do is feed you to the dogs. I was on a sweep and clear team in 'Nam. I know all about the best ways to hurt somebody and leave them to die slow. Now get up."

I grabbed him under the shoulder and heaved, he staggered to his feet. His face was pale, he had finally pissed himself. I almost felt bad for kicking him in the arm, but time was a wasting, and the sun wasn't going to hold back because I had feelings. I needed to save Steven, or really be screwed in Chicago. Besides...my training said you never leave an ally behind. Steven was an ally, and almost a friend.

We walked back to the car. I took the keys out, put them in my pocket. We walked along the edge of the street to the gate around the warehouse. McCarthy got it open, and us inside before the dogs noticed. I pushed him ahead of me. They approached stiff legged, their teeth showing. They were all gaunt and angry looking. I could see scrapes and sores on their hide. The bikers not only didn't feed them much, they were mean to them also. Not a good plan. I bet that there was only one designated handler. The dogs hated all other life forms.

I stepped back and gave McCarthy space, letting the dogs focus on him. He began trying to talk soothingly to them, it sounded more like terrified whining from where I was standing. I activated my obfuscate, and began edging around them. Probably wouldn't have worked for squat without McCarthy attracting their attention. As it was, it worked like a charm. The dogs started to bark and attack McCarthy, and true to his nature he started to scream and holler at them, egging them on. The dogs were taking turns rushing in to bite him, until one of them jumped on his back and knocked him down. Then it was a free for all, with all McCarthy could do to protect his throat. I was all the way up against the wall next to the door before one of the other ghouls came out to check on the noise.

This was a skinnier guy, wearing jeans and a vest, no shirt. His hair was longer, his beard down on his chest, mostly black. He reeked of whiskey and cigars. He carried a double barreled sawed off shot gun. I reversed my grip on McCarthy's pistol and whopped him on the back of the head. The first one didn't quite take him down, so I did it again. As he fell I took the shot gun out of his hand. I squated down and checked his vest pockets, keeping my eye on the door, with glances at the dogs from time to time. I hit pay dirt, finding more shells. I pulled another pistol, and a nice knife off of him. More of my jungle training, never leave behind working weapons, and you can never have too many guns, especially if you are outnumbered.

I hate bucking a closed door. You can't even be vampire invisible if you have to open a door. But in this case, the clock is running. I swung the door open and dodged through low, hoping that they were as overconfident as they seemed. They were, nobody was watching the door. I went in slow and quiet, looking for the remaining three. I could see Steven in the center of the room, tied to a pole, a large wooden stake in his heart. One of the bikers was standing there drawing vial of blood from him. Smart independents, they were storing up for the future. Bad for Steven, they wouldn't need him around when he was dry. His one of his buddies was drinking an ampule, then licking out as much as he could. There was a look of intense bliss on his face.

I crept across the floor, taking care to be silent. I hit the draw master in the back of the head with the butt of the shotgun. Being ghouls they will probably be all tough. The guy drinking sees me suddenly, his eyes bugging out. As he goes for his gun I shoot him in the knee. I don't want to kill him, I just want to slow them down a while. He falls to the floor screaming, so I kick him hard in the head to shut him up. The draw master is rolling over, trying to get the birdies out of his eyes when I grab his head and bounce it off the concrete. That takes all his sand away. I can hear their hearts beating, hurt, but not dead.

The screaming has stopped outside. Time to go back and check on my distraction. I cut the ropes holding Steven, and pull the stake out of his heart. I see his eyes flare open, and I take a long step back to not be the first thing he sees. I don't want there to be a misunderstanding between myself and his beast. He rolls over, and I see him fall on the draw master, hear him begin feeding. Not my problem then.

I turn back to the front, so I can go check on McCarthy. I get to the door, stand aside and push it open. No surprises waiting for me. I look out, and see McCarthy crawling across the lot toward me. The biker who I took the shotgun from is dead, a doberman licking greedily at his neck. Okay, that worked out well. I edge around him, and go grab McCarthy. I help him inside. The dogs tore him up good, but it looks like the only one left alive was the one eating the biker by the door. I drop McCarthy once he is safe inside. I go over to the guy I shot in the knee and feed from him, as I have burned up some of my blood in this little escapade. I leave enough in him so he won't die.

Steven isn't as nice as me, He leaves the guy he was draining and finishes draining the biker I just drank from. I step away, but even still I can hear his heartbeat flutter and stop. I don't feel bad for them, they are bad men who made a bad choice. I go to McCarthy and give him some of my blood so that he is more healed. Then I stand him up, look him in the eyes. I push with my will, and feel him go still, feel his mind become clay in my fingers. "You will stay here until I return and allow you to leave. You may not leave the building."

I turn him loose, and he staggers as I release my hold. I can feel the coming dawn. We have less than an hour to make it to Gary and the safety of my Grandfathers house. I don't have any other bolt holes here in Chicago. I holler at Steven, and he joins me. We step outside to be greeted by the last doberman. He jumps at me, I catch him easily and tear his throat open, drinking him dry. Sated, I drop the dog. The motorcycles of the dead bikers are all parked nearby.

"Can you ride a motorcycle?" I asked Steven.

"Oh yeah, I grew up riding them in Jamaica." He says with a grin.

We jump on two of the hogs and they start with a roar. We race out into the cool streets, the roar of the engines in my ears, the cold air on my skin. In the east the sky begins to lighten, and I feel a touch of fear creep along my spine. I don't want to be out here when the sun comes up. We crank the throttles down, and ride. We make it to the brownstone in Gary with minutes to spare. We park the bikes in the yard and race for the house. We get downstairs just in time, as we feel the sun rise over the horizon. That was a little close. If this is the first night in Chicago, I can't afford to be here long, the death toll will be too high. Just like the old days.

An Interlude With Mr. Hyde

I dreamed of Son.

His name was Jason Newberry. He was a Malkavian. He was a psychopath. He was a truly repulsive vampire I encountered in Chicago 8 years ago when I first passed through here. I was spinning out of control, having killed a couple of Denver's upper end vampires and trying to find a place to hide. The snarky little bastard caught me on the street after I had discovered that my sister had been shot, her kids taken. I was angry, frustrated, and not really worrying about anything but how to find those kids. He made like he wanted to sidle up to me, telling me how he loved my work, and how I we could be friends. He told me how he found the idea of slowly eating someone sexually thrilling, and how he wanted to share the experience with me. In the mood I was in, I kicked him in the balls, bounced his head off the bricks, and jumped for his throat. We wrestled, I won. I drank his soul. The vampires call it diablerie. It was an amazing rush.

His blood made mine stronger, and it was a taste that I will always remember, how sweet and rich it was. I never felt such a rush as I ate his soul, as I absorbed all of him. His soul was dark and twisted, he had done things that frightened even me, things that my mind struggled to comprehend as his memories rushed into me, became a part of me. I hadn't really realized that was what I was doing, but it was. Now I carry at least part of him in my brain.

More than once I have awoken from a stupor to find that while I was out, I had done things. Usually killed people or animals, tore things up. It is always a disorienting experience. A frightening one, as Son makes sure I knew that he had managed to take a ride in my body, without my consent. I had seemed to have put that behind me once I hit New York, but now it came back in a rush. Somehow Son was very happy to be back in Chicago.

I dreamed Son in a rough basement. There was a table and one chair here. At the edge of my hearing I could pick up the electric whine of a T.V., or camera. He brought a young man down into the basement, acting the concerned friend. Once he was there, the two talked in hushed tones. Son would glance at me, and I could see that evil smirk cross his face as he caught my eye. I heard him tell the boy to strip, cause Son would give him new clothes. He just needed to take some measurements, and then there would be a bite to eat. My last vision before waking, was of Son driving the scissors he was holding into the soft flesh of his victims thigh. He flashed his full canines, and said "Look Tremen, I brought dinner." The boys screams were the last thing I heard before I awoke.

The Challenges of Being Nice to Bad People

Years of Viet Nam nightmares had taught me to just get up and get moving rather than getting caught in the fear of analyzing my poor brain dealing with it's collective horrors. I rose and washed, cleaning last nights blood from my skin, mine and all the other I had accumulated. Steven was polishing his shoes, which seemed odd, but whatever. I gave Steven one of the guns I had taken last night. I wrapped the shotgun in a sheet and left it. I now carried a .40 caliber H&K that I had taken from the biker.

Speaking of the bikers, we had time to ride out to the warehouse where they had taken Steven. We rode the motorcycles west again, a considerable clip slower than we had the morning before. All in all it took us fifty minutes to get close to the warehouse, another 10 to case the place. It seemed cleaned up a little, and all the motorcycles were gone except for one. Two years in Viet Nam had made me paranoid, so we checked that place out top to bottom before we got close. I could smell the stale blood from last night, the exhaust from the bikes at some earlier time. Under all that was the scent of oil, grime, and rust that hangs in around any warehouse facility. We did a pretty good imitation of cops entering hostile territory, sweeping and clearing the doors, the interior of the warehouse once we got inside. We found McCarthy standing at a makeshift bar I had seen last night. He was doing a pretty good job of killing a bottle of Skol vodka.

Relieved that we were alone, I approached McCarthy.

"McCarthy." I said, flat, giving nothing, no inflection or welcome.

"Vampire." He answered, slugging down another shot, then fumbling for a cigarette, lighting a smoke.

"Where's your friends?" I asked, relaxing only a little. My paranoia was screaming "Trap!", but all the evidence said this has been biker was alone.

"They left me to you. When I couldn't leave the building, they figured out you had mind fucked me. They came back and we talked it over. We have seen folks who were under the thrall of a vampire like you. They usually wind up bled out and rotting in the sun. I was going to kill myself but they took all the guns. I thought I might try to drink myself to death. But here you are." He said it with a sigh, taking a long drag on the cigarette. "They said if I ever got free to come back down south, maybe they would find me."

"Is that where you usually hang out? 'Down south'?" I asked, putting my gun away.

"Yeah, we first got hooked up with the vampires out in LA. Our source got whacked, so we started looking for a blood connection. We started cruising east looking for the signs of vampires at different towns. Wherever we would find things that we thought added up to vampires running things we would start scouting around until we would find where you guys hang out. Over a week or so we would see if we could snag one of you and bleed you out. Tommy even had the idea of feeding them once or twice so we could get more blood out of you. Both times the vampires went crazy, nearly tore the cages we used apart. We made it to Memphis, where we hooked up with the dude who told us he was an Anarch, whatever the fuck that means. He was helping us score blood. He fucked with the wrong Master or whatever, cause they wasted him. We decided to get out of town for a while, came up here. We been in Chicago for a month or so. I'm all that's left here now." He said, slamming another shot.

"I see. So when was the last time you had a fix?" I asked him. He was still wounded from last night, still jacked up from what I had done to him, his accident, and the dogs. Thinking that I had fed him my blood last night. If I fed him now, this would be his second drink from me. Why did I always wind up with these losers? My life would have been easier to just kill him and be done with it, but I don't do that anymore. I slit my wrist and poured my blood into his shot glass.

McCarthy gave me the fish eye, but I could see he was craving my blood. It's worse than a junkie knowing that a hit is right there. He grabbed the glass and slammed it back. I could see the blood hit him, watched him flush, then shudder in ecstasy. He set the glass down again, and I refilled it. This time he didn't hesitate, but slammed it back also.

I guess having a daylight helper in Chicago wouldn't be such a bad thing. That thought sent my mind along the path of seeing the girls, Jeanie and Carrie. I had last seen them in Chicago. I lost them when the cops caught me in O'Hare. That had really been the last stages of my spiral. Caught, shot, damaged, on my way to a cell. I broke and ran, next diabolizing Son, then fleeing to Montreal to join the Sabbat in an attempt to get some education, some protection from the Camarilla and the vampires who would surely be looking to mount my head on a spike. Oh my, good times. I would try to find Jeannie and Carrie while I was here in town, if for no other reason than to give them a hug and make sure they were doing okay. I owed them that, after leaving them here to fend for themselves. My heart ached at that thought, as it always did when I thought about them.

I turned back to McCarthy, flashing him a big smile. "Today is your lucky day. This is the first day of a long life helping me. I have hope for you McCarthy. You are free to leave the warehouse, but not the city of Chicago. If you do I will be very unhappy." I said, watching the duel of emotions run across his face. He knew he could leave, but didn't want to now, and was having a hard time reconciling that. I would leave him to it.

I turned to Steven and gave him a nod. We moved back to the front door of the warehouse. McCarthy shouted "I'll be here when you get back." I gave him an assured wave of my hand. I knew he would be.

Seeing the Head Snake

We got a cab to Wrigley field. It's a big place, and just as I remembered, parking here would have been a nightmare. We paid the tab, and headed across the street to the home of the Cubs. Buying tickets here brought back memories. I hadn't been here in a long time. The last time I was here I was mortal. My brother Alfred had gotten some great seats for us, we had watched a double header, being boys. I hadn't seen Alfred in a long time, and I missed him now. Damn it, not a time to get maudlin. I needed my head in the game, and I didn't mean baseball. Dealing with Settites is supposed to be bad news, as it always leaves one in a bad place according to the Giovanni.

We went up into the stands. It was busy, but not packed. Steven pointed me toward a section about half-way down. We walked that way. I could see a man in flowing bright colored shirt. He wore a fez, and had two guys with him in leather jackets. One was a very black man, the other was almost an albino white guy. Steven went and they exchanged hand shakes, and a few words. Things seemed very cozy, very relaxed. I knew it should have put me at ease to see them so relaxed together, but I still felt like I was trying to slip between blocks smashing together.

Steven waved me over, introducing me to Marcel.

"Mr. Metz, very nice to meet you." Marcel said to me. While he was african in descent, his skin wasn't the deep black of the two guys next to him. One of them moved over so I could have a seat right next to him.

"Very nice to meet you also. Steven has told you of my question?" I asked, trying to seem a confident and powerful man.

"No, only that you wished to speak to me." He said, his face becoming solemn.

"I see. You acquired two children ten years ago that you in short order sold to Donatello Giovanni in New York. I understand you had nothing to do with their acquisition, so I need to know who sold them to you to sell to Donatello." I said, keeping my voice level. I was miles closer to an answer now than I had been in ten years.

"These were the Children of the Reese family? I am so sorry you have wasted your time. Had I known you what you wanted to know I would have held this information for you. But you see unfortunately I already had someone come to me and purchase that information. I would feel quite awkward selling it again to you." Marcel said, frowning.

I struggled to maintain my composure. I nearly blew a gasket, to have come so close and then be denied the information made me want to commit violence. I had to talk myself out of killing the bodyguards and tearing Marcel to shreds. My mind raced to find a way to get the information from him in a manner that wouldn't just get me killed. Marcel shifted uncomfortably, some of my rage must have showed on my face. "Who did you sell it to? Who else would be wanting to know this?" I asked.

"My clanmate Elie Sansaricq came to me and purchased this information. Perhaps he purchased it to sell to you." Marcel said with a studied expression. "Is this a family matter? Or are you just interested from a business level?"

I battled with myself. I did not want to tie this event to Tremen Hall. I had worked hard to establish my nom de plum as Torsten Metz. I didn't want to throw it away on a whim. But this was the answer I needed. "It is family information. These children are related to me." I ground out. I didn't want these Settites to have a hold on me, but here I was, so in for a penny in for a pound.

He broke into a huge smile, showing off his gold capped teeth. "Why didn't you say so! Of course I will tell you what you want to know. Family is very different than business. Well then we should discuss price. I would consider it a moderate boon to give you this information, or you could perform a service for me." He said with a slight smile, enjoying holding the keys to the knowledge.

"What service?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"I have a police problem. A specific officer who is causing me problems. I would like very much for him to cease to be a problem. His name is Captain Eurehl Bonner." Marcel said with a smile.

"Does he have to die? Or just no longer be able to cause you problems?" I asked, thinking of how fast my humanity would wither if I was asked to be the killing machine of Marcel.

"I don't care how he stops being a problem, but I want increased access to inner Chicago, and I can't do that with him in place."

"I see. I want to look this over before I agree." I said.

"of course. I will even sell you the information not knowing which way you will pay. The one who paid me to sell the kids to Donatello is the Brujah Anita Wainwright."

Both of his guards stiffened. As one they jumped to their feet. "What the Hell is that? You sell Anita out to this freak? I ain't gonna work for someone who would sell out my homey. Let's go man." The black man said, jerking his thumb at his partner. The two men started up through the stands.

Marcel shook his head. "Good help is so very hard to find." He smiled though, and seemed to not care all that much. "I bind you Steven by the law of the Clan to make sure that Mr. Metz completes his job, or comes to tell me of his debt in boon."

Steven nodded, and flashed me a grin. Great, I now had a babysitter. Steven would stick to me like white on rice until I either got it done or came back here to concede to Marcel. I had more "family business" to care for and didn't really want Steven to know that I had brought the two children in question back to Chicago. I wanted them safe with my mortal family, not swinging in the wind.

I stood and extended my hand. Marcell took it with a large, genuine seeming smile. "You don't have to rush off Mr. Metz. The tickets are paid for, and the Cubs are playing well for the beginning of the season." I looked out at the field, remembering time here with my family, my brothers and Dad. A part of me wanted to sit down and watch the game. The other part of me wanted to follow the two guys that had just left, thinking that they might take me to Anita Wainwright.

Marcell grinned. "For a very minor boon I will tell you where to find her Mr. Metz."

"While that would be helpful, I think I will do my own legwork. I appreciate the information, and the offer of more. Good evening to you Marcel." I said, then started toward the exit, Steven stepping in behind me.

"Come back anytime Mr. Metz. It looks like I am in need of two bodyguards, so if you decide you want to earn some cash, come back and find me here." Marcel said as I turned away. I just waved my hand and kept going.

Hunting for Information in Chicago

We returned to the gate area of Wriggly field. I saw the black guy and his blond friend drive away in a tricked out Cadillac. Well, so much for following those two. I paused, and let the humanity swirl around me. If I have one flaw it is jumping too quickly to attack a problem. The time and meditation needed to bring my humanity back has taught me to slow down, let things develop...all things in their own time. Instead of chasing Anita Wainwright who would be on full alert very soon, I would focus instead on paying my debt to Marcel. To do that I needed information.

I looked out the gate, and could see a cop car parked just out of the gate. Cops would know what I needed to know. Maybe not directly, but they were tied in with computers these days. Cops are usually bored and hungry. The smell of cooking hot dogs wafted across me, telling me what to do next. I went to stand in the concession stand line. Steven looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"What?" I said

"You can't eat this food and enjoy it. Why are you going to buy food?" He said, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"I'm priming the information pump. Those cops are bored, the best way to make friends with bored cops is to bring them coffee and food, tell them how you appreciate them. After that, a little mind magic will grease the wheels." I said softly. "Chicago Dogs are the favorite food of all Chicago PD members."

Understanding broke over his face. He took on a bored air, and glanced around. "I am hungry also. I think I will find a snack to freshen me up if you don't mind."

"By all means. I am going to be a little bit. We can meet back here later. Take your time." I said.

Steven melted into the crowd, and as soon as I quite concentrating on him, he vanished. The bustle of baseball fans and energy of the surrounding humanity was intoxicating. I had slipped away from this connection for a time, but was very glad to have returned to mixing with people. I had not liked the cold and detached creature I had become. I was afraid Chicago would test my humanity in unknown ways.

After I bought the dogs and some hot coffee, I went back outside to the police care. The night was cool, but very comfortable. The police had their windows down. I approached the driver confidently, a wide smile on my face. I made sure he could see both my hands were full, and I meant no threat. I wanted to be Patriotic Joe Citizen thanking his friendly Crew in Blue.

"Evening Officers. I wanted to thank you for your service to our community." I said leaning down. The driver was a seasoned black officer, his face care worn, but not hard. Probably a father, trying to get his kids raised. A little soft in the middle, but tough and attentive. The kind who will walk kids home, but will tail a criminal all week if he gets riled. His tag read "Ingham".

"Evening. Well thank you. We don't get much praise on this beat." He answered me. My eyes drifted to his partner, I needed to know what I was getting with these two. Dominate is tricky with two people in close proximity. I registered she was Hispanic, and panic froze my throat. Cold raced down my back, and I was rocked by shock.

Looking back at me in the passenger seat was my ex-wife Juanna. Her brown skin perfect and smooth, those dark eyes limpid pools of intelligence and desire. Her hair was bound up, but I could see that stray piece that always got away and curled down on her forehead. Her perfume filled my nostrils, my chest hurt, the desire for her. I hadn't seen Juanna since I had been imprisoned for cannibalism. She had kissed me on the cheek and walked away, her face streaked with tears, her back ramrod straight and strong. She was supporting Catherine at the time, holding the bawling girl up and comforting her.

I reeled back, nearly falling down. The vision was over in an instant, I could see that the woman in the seat wasn't my Juanna, but still a beautiful Hispanic officer. At my reaction her and her partner looked concerned. They glanced at each other, I could see them contemplating getting out.

"You okay sir?" The black cop said. "You look like you have seen a ghost."

"I'm fine. Ha Ha! A ghost, yes. Your partner reminded me of someone I knew. It shocked me. You all have a great night." I said, trying to get my composure back. I turned away from them and hurried across the lot to the nearest street. I could feel the blood-sweat seeping from my skin, making my clothes sticky and wet. Why was my past so determined to come back to life here in Chicago? Or was it a matter that once I stopped playing human, my past would hunt me down?

I crossed north Clark street. There were fences up to protect drivers from the construction there. I passed the main drive gate, it was cracked and open. Inside I could see some guys loafing, doing business. Looked like mostly crack and meth. Probably weed too. They looked to down at the heel to be cocaine dealers. Coke had a higher cost, higher rep. These guys were lowlifes. I could see bowls of lighters, light bulbs, needles. All the tools for getting wasted.

There was a skinny black guy in there getting a dime bag of crack it looked like. I made myself invisible and waited for him to come out. The black guy came out presently. He was really wasted, I wouldn't give him long for this world, even if he didn't drive me to do lots of damage. I let him go a couple of blocks before I rushed him and shoved him down a dark, nasty alley. He tumbled ass over tea-kettle. He wailed, and made lots of noise banging around into trash and bottles on the ground.

I picked him up, balling my fists in his shirt, slamming him bodily into the wall. I saw his hand dip, come up with something shiny. He whipped his hand, and I immediately knew it was a butterfly knife. He was fast with it, I'll give him that. I was faster, and had been ready for something like it. I caught his hand took the knife. I flipped it closed and dropped it into my pocket.

"Don't be stupid." I growled. He shuddered and stopped wiggling.

"What the fuck you want man? What the Hell is wrong with you man? I never done nothing to you." He hollered at me, his breath fetid and nasty with the sores of his disease. He was filthy before the roll amongst the garbage, I hadn't helped his stench any.

"I want some information. I am new to Chicago, and am looking for someone. I policeman by the name of Captain Eurehl Bonner. Where does he work? What precinct can I find him in?" I asked. If this guy was a pain in the ass like Marcel said, all the street scum would at least have a clue as to where he was so they could avoid him.

"I don't know nuthin man, Get the Hell off me! How the Hell am I supposed to know where the narc pig is?" My subject asked. Ah, so he did know him.

"I never told you he worked in narcotics. So you do know him. Where might I start to look for our esteemed Captain Bonner?" I asked again, only making his head bounce on the bricks behind him a little.

"All right, all right. Don't do me ugly. He works out of Cabrini Green most of the time. I think he deals more shit than anybody else down there." the druggy said.

"Good. Anything else you can tell me?" I asked mildly. He shook his head no, still trying to get my arm to move off his throat. As I turned him loose, I spun him once more into the garbage on the ground. He hit solidly, scattering stinking trash everywhere. I slipped back to the street while he recovered himself.

Cabrini Green. That is a nice name to put on a lower ring of Hell. It's a housing complex built in the 40's for affordable housing on the near north side of Chicago. It was touted as a utopia, cheap, clean housing for everybody. Reality was not so nice. The neighborhoods became the home of every version of evil and corruption the town of Chicago had ever thought of. Gangs fights, murder, prostitution, drugs, whatever you wanted could be found there. At it's peak there were supposed to be fifteen thousand people living in that area, there was probably around ten thousand there now. Steven might be okay there, but a white dude like me would find the locals wanting to spread my entrails from the lamp posts. White people aren't welcome in Cabrini Green.

All that that meant was that when we went it wouldn't be on foot. I wouldn't want to be caught walking there. Steven doesn't know the city well, so we would recon together. At that point my solution was that I needed a car. Funding being what it was, and being in Chicago, I decided we should steal one. I wouldn't want to buy something to take back to New York, and rental plates would get us killed in the Projects.

Going to Cabrini Green and wanting to take down a cop also meant that I was too lightly armed. I didn't want to have to kill the guy, but sometimes options became limited. I went into a couple of bars as I walked back to the baseball field. I was looking for more street folk who would know where I could buy guns. Chicago was a gun free zone, which meant in order to buy guns, it was illegal. I also wouldn't want to be going through any background check, so again, someone illegal. The nice part about gun free zones is that there was always a healthy black market in place where you could buy them on the sly, no questions asked. All I had to do was provide the green. I had some cash, but it wasn't infinite. I managed to grease some palms, and they gave me a name and a time where I could find the guy associated with the name. One Massoud "Roshan" Charmchi. He ran a mobile gun store seven days a week, you just had to know where the store was at any given time.

I then worked my way back to the home of the Cubs, so I could hook up with Steven. The game was out now, and I had a hunger for some flesh, and I could use a little top off of blood. I wanted to find a hospital, they always had people I could eat.

Looking For a Bite To Eat

As I remembered it, there was a smaller hospital north and east of the field. The name escaped me at the moment, but I was sure it was there. We got on the subway at Addison, rode it to Sheridan and got off, then walked the rest of the way. Probably would have been faster to just walk it, but I wasn't in a real hurry. When we got off the subway we saw a sign pointing up towards the hospital. The evening was nice, not too cold, the breeze coming in off the lake a couple miles away.

Turns out it was Thorek Memorial I was thinking about. My grandfather had done some work here, it was that old. I remembered coming with him once to visit a patient he was caring for. The hospital had changed, but underneath all the window dressing it was the same building I had seen all those years ago. I could hear him telling me about how much he enjoyed Chicago, working here. He said it never got dull. "You can always see something different in Chicago T, this city is always changing. People come from all over the world here to find what they are looking for." He said to me.

We entered the building through sliding glass doors. The ER was a mad house. I could see patients everywhere, crying kids, unhappy adults. The ER stank of urine bleached into submission, blood scrubbed up, but never quite going away. When human pain had been brought to the same place for so long it hung like effluvium over the waiting room. I knew this place would be teeming with ghosts, the lost and forgotten staring at the walls, crying for their own loss. Steven was looking at me with questioning eyes. "What are we doing?" coming from him as clearly as if he spoke the words.

How to explain to my babysitter that I was that rare kind of vampire that not only drank blood, but had to have flesh to sustain myself. Once upon a time I would find some oriental gangbanger and make sushi out him or her. I would take Negros, Caucasians, or Hispanics if I was in need, but I had a thing about Orientals after Nam...Seemed like for a long time I was trying to take back my sanity one bite at a time. Not that it helped...but seemed like a good idea at the time. I could feel my many flesh eating teeth descend just thinking about it. It took concentration to force them back into place. Mortals didn't need to see me with a mouth full of shark teeth...that wouldn't be good. Needless to say, I didn't try to explain, I just kept my enigmatic smile.

After a brief pause I nodded towards an empty chair for Steven. I walked to the front desk. I was betting on a pattern I had used a hundred times in the past. ER's in big cities are always overcrowded, always in need of more physicians. Because the case loads here were so brutal and demanding, doctors came and went like the laundry. The life blood of hospitals, the nurses, barely acknowledged their existence other than direct work together on a patient. I sauntered up to the front desk like I owned the place.

"Doctor Parker Smith in to do some pro bono work." I said in a bored fashion.

At that instant a gurney rolled past, a man strapped to it's surface. He was raging, out of control. I could see froth at his lips, his gyrations nearly knocking the gurney down. The two paramedics were trying to keep him upright while a beat cop steadied him in the middle. Suddenly one of the straps burst, and the lunatic grabbed the cop by the coat and yanked him down, slamming his fist into the face of the officer. Blood sprayed everywhere, the poor cops nose busted. The gurney went down, its other straps snapping from the stress put on them.

I spun to help, the maniac leaping to his feet with a howl. He head butted the first paramedic, kicked the other in the groin. The nurse I had spoken to came across the desk like a rocket, hitting the guy in the shoulders and neck. They both went down in a heap, the nut howling. She had a needle in his neck, dropping the plunger without a thought. The nut threw her off, staggered to his feet, and then slowly sank to the floor. A brief silence hung over the room, before the officer jumped on the now comatose patient, and the other paramedic began helping to restrain him. The nurse got to her feet, handed the needle to the paramedic, and glanced at me.

"Scrubs are in the back on the left. No administering pain meds without a tox screen. No smoking in the building, don't leave your crap on the counters. We are backed up six deep out here, with overflow happening everywhere. Don't stand there looking at me, get to work." Said the young black woman tersely as she walked back around the admissions desk. Her name tag said "Holly Rosemont". "If you make it a week you can introduce yourself and buy me coffee."

Dismissed, I shook my head and walked back looking for some scrubs. I changed my clothes, and stuffed my civies into a bag I found there. Scrubs were always good for a disguise. My hunger was pushing at me, and I could smell fresh meat everywhere around me. Had I been thirsty, this place would drive me mad.

I worked my path back through the patients, doing some minor work. I put in some stitches, administered some antibiotics on a woman. Then I found the guy who had been beat up. He was clean cut, his clothes business like, but worn a while. I couldn't tell much about him, but his chart said he had been found beaten in an alley, the paramedics brought him here. His pulse was thready, his EEG irregular.

I used my other sight, and could see he truly was at deaths door. Something about him appealed to me. I couldn't shake the idea that he was a good man who was going to die if I didn't do anything. Regular medicine wouldn't help. The other doctors had done all they could to stabilize him, there was head trauma. I couldn't just walk away, so I cut my wrist and gave him some of my blood, hoping that his body would take it and use it to heal himself. I dribbled it in his mouth, and he coughed, sputtered, and swallowed it.

I concentrated on my cut and it healed, leaving me even more hungry. But this John Doe stabilized, and I could see him pull out of deaths grasp for today. Good enough.

I left him and went searching for the morgue. I found more of a storage place, they didn't really do autopsies and such here, they just held the bodies until somebody would take them elsewhere for examination. I worked my way through the drawers, finding six here. I settled on the car wreck victim. She had internal organs that were damaged but still in decent shape. Working quickly with a scalpel I had picked up I removed the liver and kidneys. Again my flesh teeth descended, and I ate ravenously. I could feel the cold meat slide into me, my vampire body taking it and putting it to use repairing whatever died inside me each day. The flesh made me feel good, brought my mood up. I truly hated being away from my home, I had no place or time to make a meal, to contemplate what to do. As there was still blood in her, I drank from her also. Cold blood isn't as yummy as fresh from the spring but it would help keep my Beast in check to have fed. I left the body open, not really trying to hide anything. To the casual observer, it would look like the organs came out trying to save her.

I cleaned up, then changed into my civies. I stuffed the scrubs into the bag, and worked my way back to the front. Without a glance right or left I walked straight back to the waiting room and waved to Steven as I walked out. He got up and joined me, and we walked back into the Chicago night, leaving all that pain and death behind us.

"What's next? What was that about? You do some strange stuff for Brujah." Steven said to me. We came to a stop on the top step just outside of the Hospital.

"That was about satisfying a need without complications. What's next?" I answered him with a big smile as we surveyed the parking lot full of empty cars.

I waved my hands like a barker revealing his next great trick, "Car shopping!"

$1500.01, You Got Penny?

We wound up stealing a pos tan Ford Taurus. It was common, older, and wasn't a common variety used by the police. Plus the driver left it unlocked. Seemed to be a guys car, not much in the way of frilly stuff, the music was turned to a rock station. No reek of perfume. He seemed to be a non-smoker, the ashtray had assorted coins in it instead of butts. Took me all of ninety seconds to hot wire it.

Seemed that the gun dealer I could hook up with was in the West Ridge area. We drove north along Clark Street, before turning off and making our way through some streets that I wasn't all that familiar with these days. The change in Chicago surprised me sometimes.

I remembered the brownstones and bustle of a city building things, moving things. Chicago in many ways has come to a halt, people not doing anything. Many of the buildings I remember from my childhood still stand, but now covered in ash and soot, broken windows and boarded up doors where there was bustle and energy. Where there were people planting trees and plants, now there is trash and barrels burning whatever is at hand. Chicago seems a husk, shriveling in the sun of time, no longer young. When viewed from the love of my childhood, Chicago made me sad.

We turned on North California, traveling to a short series of smaller warehouse/factories. I saw the light I was looking for, turned right, and found myself in a narrow alley, looking at the back of a truck that said "Farrouqs Market". I knew it was what I was looking for. We parked behind the truck, honked twice, and got out. Six big middle eastern men came around the truck and met us. Three each searching us, the care, and doing a spot check around the area. Once we were cleared, we walked around the truck and found a large traveling van. The doors opened, and I could see the van was loaded with weapons of all types.

A short, stocky man who looked to be a dark Persian got out and puffed on a cigar. He had the very dark mustache, goatee, hair, and eyes of the Arabic culture, with the lighter skin of the Persians. He smelled of cigar smoke and cloves. With my heightened senses I could smell gun oil and metal on him also.

"Hello my friend, very glad you found us. If you want the best in home protection, I got it. For the purposes of this transaction, you are Mr. Gibson, your friend is Mr. Glover. You can call me Roshan. Now Mr. Gibson, we are friends. What is it I can help you with?"

"Well my friend Roshan, I need a medium caliber semi-automatic, prefering and .40 caliber Glock or Kimber. I would like a large magazine, two hundred rounds, and a retractable baton, or Asp." I said with a smile.

Roshan opened the doors to his van, laid out on the floor and in racks were pistols and rifles of all size and shape. I could see a couple of crates, and mounted in the front I was pretty sure was a LAWS rocket. I could see a clear plexiglass container with batons, asps, knives, and even some old style black jacks and saps. This little van could arm an army.

"I have what you want Mr. Gibson. You also need an MP 5 submachine gun. Today it's my special. We wound up with an extra crate, I will give you a good price." He said.

"I don't need an MP 5. They attract attention with all those bullets spraying around. Policemen ask questions when they talk to you and you have one. No thanks. You're a nice guy, but the need to offload an MP 5 isn't very reassuring in trying times Roshan." I said with a tight smile.

"But a man like you, I can tell you know how best to use one. I can see it makes your palms itch to have such a weapon. MP 5 uses the same ammunition as the pistol. You don't have to buy extra." He said, pulling the dark, boxy gun out of the pile. He extended out the collapsible stock, racking back the slide. He dropped the thirty round magazine, laying it on a towel. He handed me the H&K gun, grinning large.

I took the little rifle, liking it's feel. I had once killed the top enforcer in Denver with a similar gun...even a vampire goes down when you load thirty rounds of ammunition into him at point blank range. I had squeezed the trigger and used it like a chainsaw. I felt bad for killing him, but he would have taken me apart limb from limb if I hadn't. Even with my increased power, I could never have taken Duke in a fair fight. In spite of myself, I grinned. I hadn't like leaving my tools in New York, but United wouldn't have let me transport my full auto uzi. What the Hell.

"All right Roshan. You have a deal. I'll take it." I said with a smile. I put the MP 5 around my neck from the sling. I picked up the 9 mm Kimber and slipped it into my waist band. The baton slid into my back pocket, to be covered by my jacket. His one helper handed me the boxes of ammunition. I handed the ammunition to Steven, gingerly reached into my jacket, and pulled out the cash I had brought. Very deliberately I counted out the amount in hundreds. Once we were done, Roshan handed me a card, telling me that I could call them and buy anytime I had a need an the cash for the items. I thanked him.

Steven and I walked back to our car, flanked by Roshans' guards. We got in our car and Steven looked at me strangely. "No offense, but Roshan was right, I could see you wanting to take the machine gun. When did an educated guy like you learn to use a machine gun?"

"Viet Nam Steven. I learned a lot of things I sometimes wish I could forget. I was the doctor for a sweep and clear team in Laos and Cambodia when we weren't supposed to be there. I learned to be good at repairing people, and taking them apart." I answered grimly, as I backed up, bouncing out onto the nearly empty street. "There is something that I find comforting about a lot of bullets flying in a short span of time. In my experience you can never have too many weapons when a fight is looming."

He nodded, his eyes far away, "I can understand that." He said.

Fun On a Friday Night

We drove south to the near north side. Funny when you say it like that, but we did. 41 was emptying out as we drove south along the coast of Lake Michigan. We drove the speed limit, we used our turn signals. No need to attract any attention.

If the rest of Chicago looked like a slowly rotting city...Cabrini Green is the month old corpse version. All the basic structure is there, but it reeks, and anything you touch leaves you feeling like you have pus on your hands. Oh, and you're sure that at any moment large bugs are going to squirm into view and crawl along your hands. There were husks of burned out cars here, huge turned over dumpsters of trash. As we drove, weaving among the streets the stands of water reflected multicolor rainbows from the gas and oil resting on their surface.

Needless to say, there weren't any white people moving around here. I saw latino's, some asians, but the humanity here was mostly of African descent. Groups of kids gathered around fancy cars, their stereos pumping out a thundering bass rhythm. Nearby a barrel flamed and popped. We pulled up to the Goldmine building and found a space to park in. We then hunkered down to watch. Captain Bonner was supposed to come by here pretty regularly.

"So we are doing a stake out to find a cop?" Steven asked.

"Yeah, he's narcotics and vice, so he is one of those floaters. Doing this is a lot less visible than going to the local precinct and watching for him." For the record doing a stake out as a vampire sucks. Couldn't really enjoy coffee, and couldn't eat sweets. On the positive side, we were both used to sitting still and watching people. After an hour or so, we hit pay dirt.

Three big SUV's pull up, coming from different directions. They didn't bother with parking spaces, they just parked in front of the building. We could see the cops get out. They spent a few minutes chatting, shaking hands. These guys weren't worried. They were either working with the gangs, or they had a death wish. I was betting on working with the gangs.

Out of six total men, two of them went up, four of them stayed back. There was a general air of business being done. Men stood around smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee from thermos's they had brought. Heck, I even saw a bag of donuts go around. In good time, the two guys came down all smiles. They got in the SUV's, everybody was leaving.

Steven and I followed along. I took my time, hanging back. I needed to know more about what this cop was doing with his time. We moved into the Rack, heading to the money part of town. Here the streets were cleaner, the gilding fresh and washed. We wound up in front of a big art gallery. We watched the same two cops get out, and head inside.

I looked at Steven. "I'm pretty sure they are going to meet some Kindred connection here. This stinks like Elysium to me. I think we could follow them inside and maybe take him out here."

"Sounds good." he said with a grin.

We got out and circled the SUV's. The cops inside looked us over but didn't find us more interesting than whatever they were currently doing. We went inside. Soft music played over the PA, and the wafting odor of cherry blossoms filled the air. We could just see our targets ahead of us, as they nodded to a well dressed fancy boy. He waved them through, then turned and took notice of us. I put him down for a functionary. He asked us something about and invitation, I put my head down and told him I would show it to him when I got back, very important things ahead. He never touched me, but I sensed his amusement.

I was suddenly brought up short by an intense desire to look at him. I almost literally fell down because of the speed of my change in direction. I had to look at him. And he was beautiful. Oh my.

I am a mans man, I like women, boobs, ass, long sexy hair. I like smelling a woman when she is aroused, I like feeling the soft skin of their bodies. I do not go in for guys. Until now.

I was in love. I had never seen anything this beautiful before in my life. He was amazing. That perfect face, those perfectly kissable lips. His stone cut square jaw. I could see his muscles ripple inside the perfectly tailored jacket. His perfect, long golden hair was tied in a ponytail in back. I found myself wishing I had looked at his butt before I went past him, because I wanted to see how perfect it was, like the rest of him.

I could see Steven was in the same boat. That worthless little tramp, he couldn't love my man too. After a moment the vampire smiled at me, and everything was right in my world. I could breath, because he was smiling.

"Now then my boys, where are you going?" He asked us, his perfect dulcet voice making me shiver for want of hearing him speak more.

"We were following those policemen." I said earnestly, hoping he would smile some more for me.

"Ah, I see. Well you don't have an invitation do you?" He asked, a hint of disapproval entering his voice. I was crushed, because I had been such a worm to show up here without an invitation. I was so sorry to disappoint him. I shook my head no. "Who are you? Do you have a reason I should let you go up?"

We stammered out our names. We both apologized, telling him we were just following those men. He nodded. "Captain Bonner works for Kevin Jackson. Seeing as how you don't belong here, you should both go now." He said, his disapproval strong in the air. Like whipped puppies we scampered away, hurrying out to our car, so we wouldn't make our new love unhappy anymore. I knew this was wrong, knew that these feelings weren't natural, but I couldn't seem to fight them.

Once we were back in the cool darkness of the car, we watched and mooned, hoping for a sight of our new love. I watched a long, black limo pull up. A huge, ugly looking fat man got out. He walked up the steps. Our new love stepped outside to talk to him. The two shook hands, then the fat man went inside. I was furious with jealousy, and I could see Steven was fighting the same battle. It was almost too much for someone else to shake his hand when we had not. I desperately wanted to know my new loves name.

I pushed down my lust, and began to explore my mind, looking for the remnants of Sons memories. I knew they were there, and with some work, sometimes I could find them. After a few minutes I began to put together my love and the names in my mind. His perfect name was of course Brett Stryker. Son had thought him a beautiful tool. Because he is Toreador, someone to be avoided. I felt awful that Son had such a low opinion of my current love.

I could then remember the name of the fat man, Horatio Ballard. Son had known him quite well. Son had enjoyed blackmailing him to do all sorts of things, or tell the world about his nasty predilections. Ballard was a Ventrue, and had a limited feeding stock. His stock came from the children of his own family. Ballard was a pedophile. That was information I could use.

I sat mulling these revelations over. The next thing I knew the world went white...and I was gone.

"Wanna Be Jekyll But I'm always Fucking Hyde"

I came to on a cot, in an earth walled room, wooden roof above. I had a sense of being under the earth, and the light smell of damp earth played into that. My senses kicked in, I could smell fresh blood, and the stink of urine and feces, fresh and hot. Under that came the stench of old rot. Old blood and old, rotted flesh. Mold and mice, spiders and dry wood. Oh my.

Nearby I could hear the shuddering breaths of someone, someone young. I could also detect the light whir of an electronic device, and nearby a faucet dripped lightly, regularly. I couldn't hear the city, couldn't hear any people except the child. I could just make out the hoot of an owl above me and a long way off.

I sat up, looking around. I was in a finished basement area. There was a sink, where the water was dripping slowly. To my left was an unfinished area, bare earth walls, in the back stacked with wood. Between myself and that stood an older video camera, not running but powered up. Then my vision was drawn to the horror show in the middle of the room.

I could see a nearby table, a girl nailed to it. Yep, you read that right. She was spread out like she had been crucified without the cross, instead just nailed to the table. She looked to be around 9 or so. I could see marks on the exposed skin, which, oh God, was all of it. I felt my body wanting to retch...

A little way off lay the body of a young boy, now deceased. The marks on him were fresh, and the damage was pretty impressive from a person who had intimate knowledge of what hurts the most. His nails looked to be torn off, fingers broken. I could tell that a foot had been sawed off, it looked from a distance like he had been alive when it was done, though it was not easy to tell as the wound had been cauterized. It looked a little like he had been sodomized, as there was blood on the ground near his butt.

Full of trepidation I moved to the girl, examining her naked body closely. Her eyes were open, but there wasn't anyone home. Her mind had been broken, and her consciousness had pulled itself into a safe place, far away from the evil it had seen here. I picked up the hammer laying nearby and pulled the nails. The girl was dehydrated, and the wounds didn't gush blood, only leaked a little. I could tell she had been sexually assaulted, there was swelling and damage around her pubic area.

I gave her some of my blood hoping to heal the damage, which it did. I got her some water from the sink, in a cup that had been left there. She drank willingly, but never showed a sign of cognition. I picked her up and took her to the bunk bed, laying her down and covering her with the blankets. It was cool here, and she was already in shock. Given a little time her young constitution would pull her through, I had no idea if the same could be said for her mind.

Knowing I couldn't do anything else for the moment, I went finally to the camera. There was a yellow sticky note on it saying "Play me", with a smiley face. I pushed the button and watched the screen.

When it came on, I could see myself in front of the camera. It took me a moment to realize it, the face wasn't Torstens face, but the original face I had worn all my life, that of doctor Tremen Hall. He just stood there for a few moments grinning maniacally at me. While he did I felt my face, recognizing the old features.

"Hi there Tremen! Man it has been a long time. I have missed you. I missed Chicago too. When we went to New York it was like I went to sleep, but I am back now! You'll have to forgive me, I was so happy to be home I went and picked up some friends to enjoy." He waved to the very scared looking kids I could see sitting quietly in chairs nearby. They were both clothed, both still in full health. My insides clenched.

"So I didn't like the surgery that bitch in Montreal did on us. I took the time to heal it back to normal. You are so much more recognizable as Tremen Hall, can't have you wandering around all incognito and stuff, you might forget where you came from. Besides, it really is my joy to make life miserable for you. I might be locked up in your head, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to tear your insides out and make you scream while I do. But seeing as how with all practicality I am living inside you, the best way to torture you is to take a turn in the night, doing all the things you hate. Such a soft hearted soul you are."

"I can't stand all the goody two-shoes things you do, saving people, playing doctor. You protected those little kids of your sisters all these years, and never let me play with them. That was naughty. Oh so naughty. So instead I am going to play with the two I brought here. I was so glad that the camera was here, all ready to video this, so I could leave you a message. So sit back and enjoy." With that Son (in my body) began to do terrible things. I couldn't watch it, but instead fast forwarded to the end. "Oh that was good Tremen. I'm going to go now, it'll be dawn soon. This was soooo much fun, lets do it again real soon." Son reached up and turned off the camera.

I could feel the sun getting ready to rise. I was safe here in the basement I hoped. I couldn't do anything about it now anyway. I went over to the top bunk and got ready to die for the day. I could only hope that I woke up first, and not Son.

If All You Have Is Lemons...

I awoke in the bunk bed, my sense of the night telling me that it was now a little after sun down. I rolled off, checking on the girl. She hadn't stirred during the day, though at some point she had fallen asleep, her eyes closed now in slumber. I think that was a relief. Her face was soft, and angelic, had I not known what she had just been through I would have thought her to have a beautiful future ahead.

I went to the sink and washed. I could smell the body of the boy. I went to him and cleaned him. Seemed the least I could do after what Son had done to him. Handling the flesh made me hungry. Well, I was hungry to begin with, but handling him reminded me of my needs. Taking one of Sons' knives I cut him open, taking what flesh I needed to be whole. It's not much, and the boy won't be needing it. My flesh teeth made fast work of the meat, and as always I had to fight the beast back from wanting to tear into him, and make a full feast of his corpse.

I moved the body to the unfinished portion of the basement. I found a shovel leaned up against the wall, cobwebs hanging off it. The stench of old rot hung strong here, and I was sure that when I dug down, I would find other bodies in the ground. Sure enough I had to be careful digging, I found multiple bones here. Finally I had a hole big enough for the boy. I pulled a cover off the bed, and used it to wrap him up.

Before I put him in the ground I spoke the words of magic I knew, inscribing the Greek symbol for 'death' in the air. The room grew colder, and dimmed. My vision blurred to a accented black and white, and I could now see four ghosts standing in the room. There was an attractive Hispanic woman, my heart skipped a beat until I knew it wasn't Juanna, a good looking black kid, a white boy, and there was one still wrapped in the shroud of death, called a 'caul', I was sure it was the one of whom I had at my feet. They all looked lost, not really knowing where they were, or what was happening.

I cleared my throat and called to them, using my will to carry my voice across the shroud. "I can see and hear you. Tell me who you are, so I can let your families know you are at rest."

I could see their eyes roll to me, a couple of expressions going across their faces. Joy, fear, angst. The young white kid spoke to me. "My name is Neon. Son told me I would be safe here."

"My name is Radislaw"

"My name is Silvia"

"My name is Zack" Their voices all came in a blast, anxious to be heard, anxious to tell me about themselves.

The last boy took a moment to speak. When he did speak he seemed the most aware, listening to the others, hearing them and then taking his turn. "They called me Neon after I was dead. My name was Jimmy before that." He said. His voice was slightly tinged with anxiety, and I could see him looking around, as if watching for something.

"Do you mean that you were a vampire before you died?" I asked the boy. He nodded solemnly. "That bad man they call Sheriff embraced me, to hurt Damien. Damien was taking care of me. He told me to stay in, but I wanted to see what all the noise was about. I went out and a vampire who called himself 'Son' found me. He brought me here to protect me from the werewolves. At least that is what he said." Neon told me, hugging himself. "After he brought me here the werewolves found me, and tore me open. Then I realized that the werewolf was Son, and he tied me up. Then he fed some bum to me, so I would heal. Then he did it all over again. More than a month down here being torn apart, fed, heal, repeat. It was awful."

Tears ran down his ghost cheeks, I could now see ribbons of flesh torn loose in places as his soul remembered the abuse it had taken. His eyes vanished and reappeared, chunks torn from his limbs. He curled in on himself, and sat down. "Then he tried to drink my soul...but somehow I got away from that, all he got was my blood."

Yeah, that was about right. Man, Son was a real bastard. I had known it, but this conversation brought it all back. I was flooded with the eroticism Son had felt doing all that, I could taste his joy at having hurt Neon so badly. I vowed I would find a way to make things good for the tortured boy, so he could move on. Too bad Son was dead, I would dearly like to make him pay some more.

They weren't at rest, but at the moment there was nothing I could do about that. Except... "Son is dead. I ate him" I told them. They all looked at me blankly. "He attacked me several years ago and I drank his soul. I ate his personality, and have been fighting him inside of myself ever since. Somehow I think I have finally beaten him back. I think Son is truly gone." They all cried. Dead as they were, they all had spirit tears running down their cheeks. "If you can move on, do so. I have brought your killer to justice...or at least made it so he knew what it was like to be eaten by another. You can rest." They seemed stunned, and one by the Hispanic woman and the the one man disappeared. Only Neon and the boy in the caul remained.

I decided I needed to look around. I knew nothing about the outside world where I was. I went to the steps and went up to the wooden storm door that was closed above. Outside was a slightly wooded copse. A caretakers shack stood behind me, dark and seemly empty. I walked into the night, and at the edge of the copse a large golf course spread out ahead. Interesting. I went back to the shack, well, it's a cabin, but it's not fancy, though not really a shack. I moved around it, letting my senses feel the cabin. Nobody had been here in a while. That's good. I don't want anyone visiting Son's playground.

Going back down to the cellar I took the camera, erasing Son's little show. I bagged some things up, and then slung the girl over my shoulder. I took her outside, and to a small shed that stood next to the cabin. Inside I had seen a Gator, a six wheeled diesel operated ATV. There was a bed in the back, so the girl could lay down there. I put her in it, and started the machine. We drove out into the night, moving with ease across the green. At the edge of the parking lot I stopped, and killed the motor. I took a rag from the glove box, and wiped the machine down where I had touched it. Then I ghosted through the parking lot, which still had a number of vehicles parked there. As I moved between them, I saw an older gentleman digging his keys out. I approached him confidently, and said "Sir, about your next tee time..."

He looked over at me, pausing for me to get closer so we could talk. Once I was close I made eye contact, and told him "You will stand still." I felt a brief resistance by his mind, and then it collapsed under my power and I had him, he was my pawn. I took the keys from his hand. I opened his wallet and took his cash. I told him to sit on the curb. I then set his watch for midnight. I gave him instructions that when his alarm went off he would call for the police and report his Nissan Pathfinder stolen. Quickly unlocking his vehicle I went to get the girl. I loaded her up with no problems, and strapped her into the seat. I then drove away from the country club at a sedate pace.

After driving for a few minutes I knew where I was. I considered. A plan had formulated itself in the back of my head. I looked like Tremen Hall again. I wanted to take the cop out without killing him. What better way to have him investigated to within an inch of his life than by using my fame to attract Federal attention. Turning around I drove out into the suburbs where my quarry lived. When I was two blocks away I dialed SA William Sheppard. He was the FBI guy who was sure I was still alive, and wanted to put me back behind bars. I liked the guy, sent him flowers occasionally. Not because it was romantic, just to piss him off.

"Sheppard."

"Bill. How's it hangin pal?" I said with a smile.

"Tremen." The line hung silent for a minute. I wasn't denying it, but I wasn't affirming either. "What do you want?"

"Want? I just called to say I love you man. You're my hero. When I grow up, can I be you?" I drove into Bonner's driveway.

"Tremen stop being an asshole and just tell me what insanity you are into now." Sheppard growled.

"Bill, my friend, I want make you a famous, well paid SA. I'm giving you the chance to arrest me. I'm going to allow you to track me to my current most favorite friend. He is a vice cop working in Chicago. He is a very bad man. He is my newest best friend. You should come see us." I dropped the phone, open, on the seat. I got out, locked the truck, and looked around.

There was a couple sitting on the porch nearby. They were watching the street, and observed me getting out of the truck. I glanced around, and walked towards them. I walked up their walk way, smiling big as I approached. I slipped into my "smooth salesman" mode.

"Hey there, nice night eh?" I said walking towards them. I enhanced my senses, feeling the air around them. My magically sharp ears picked up the crackle of a radio. Well shit. There were Feds already watching him. Then the other shoe dropped.

"Holy Shit! He's Tremen Hall!" Said the man, shifting to reach for his weapon.

I hardened my will, and drove it into the Feds brain like a spike. "I'm not going to hurt you."

His arm spasmed, and he stopped reaching for his gun. His partner looked from me to him. "Who is Tremen Hall?"

I looked at her, "I am. I won't hurt you". I felt something go sideways. Her eyes widened. I saw her go for her gun. Well shit.

I dove into the house, I heard the bark of a .40 caliber. I felt the impact of a slug. Damnit. I kept running. I went upstairs, hid in the closet. I used my power to hide from her. She searched the room. I stood and watched her. She did a good job. Poor mortal. She left the room in a rush. I followed her back down stairs and outside. I kept on going to the back fence, taking my time. The Fed left the gate open, I walked through and into the alley. She went west, I went east. I circled around walking up the street. I was wishing I could look like some other Joe Blow now. A big cop ran around the corner, looked right at me and said "Mister you better get back in your house, some crazy killer is running around here." Here he was looking at me and he didn't recognize me. As he walked away I realized I was using my ability to hide in a new way...I looked like someone else now, at least to others minds.

I walked down the street at a leisurely pace. I saw the car that brought SA Sheppard in. He had a lot more grey on his head. His face was more wrinkled. But it was good ole SA Sheppard. I kept walking. I wasn't interested in having to run from everyone right now...I had other fish to fry.

Family Business

I finally walked to a factory parking lot that wasn't empty. It looked like some kind of aluminum plant. I perused the cars until I found one that was unlocked and easy to hot wire. The best one of the lot was a 1995 Chevy car. The driver was a Packers fan, which in Chicago was like begging to have your ass kicked. I put my hands on the steering wheel and tried to see their aura. A woman, in her 30's. She liked the boys and spent a lot of time in her car commuting to work. Her name was Tina. She didn't like her car much. I started the car and drove into Chicago. Somebody would notice this car sitting in a hotel parking lot and report it. Tina would get her car back. Easy peezy.

I drove to the Washburn hotel on Potomac. It was a busy place. I parked the car in the VIP valet parking area. It wouldn't be long at all until Johnny Valet noticed this Chevy POS sitting in their lot without a valet tag and reported it. I got out and walked to the curb, waiting for a bus. The bus arrived and took me away.

I was getting closer to home. My sister lived in our family house. Her name is Mariam. We all called her "Faith" because of her dedication to the church. She spent time in a convent studying, serving. There was some sort of a dust up with a bishop...I didn't know what it was all about, it happened around the time my wife was killed in a car accident. If I knew, I forgot it in the horror that was my mind at the time. Never the less she went to the University of Chicago as a full professor to teach religious history.

There she met a dark and tortured soul named Phillip Kane who was an artist. Phillip was amazing with a paint brush. He could bring the most amazing scenes to life. They talked, they walked and Faith watched him paint. After a year of dating, they married. Faith had two boys with him, whom they named Peter and Paul. Phil was struggling with his art, and became more and more obsessed with painting some vision he had of a place in the sun with strong shadows. It was a clearing surrounded by trees that seemed to almost be monsters in the shape of trees and bushes...with a lone boy in the center of the sunlit clearing. It was startling and amazing art, done a hundred times over. One night three years after Paul was born Phillip killed himself.

Faith was heart broken. She loved Phillip with all her heart, but the family will shone through, and she carried on. Faith moved back to my parents house after Mom died, and she and the boys stayed there.

Now I needed to talk to Faith. That misbegotten fuckwit Tzimisce would never let Loren's kids live in peace with me in New York. I loved the kids, but I was out of options. I needed Faith to take Jason and Calista. It was breaking my heart to think about it, but I knew it was best for them. It was time they moved back into mortal society. It was time that they had family, real family to lean on. Uncle Tremen couldn't protect them anymore, the monsters I lived with would want to come calling. At least in Chicago they would be at a distance and less likely to be collateral damage.

I went into an all night convenience store, changing my face as I did so. I made myself look like an old man, I stooped my shoulders and shuffled my walk. I went to front, and picked up a burner phone for sale there. I picked up a pre-paid card and paid cash for them. The Iranian national behind the desk didn't look twice at me, even though on the tv was the news that the cannibal doctor Tremen Hall was alive and well in Chicago's suburb. Time was wasting, Sheppard would be in touch with Faith soon, if not already. That would make things more difficult.

I walked the four blocks to my family home and looked up at a darkened house. I dialed the home phone number, which I was sure no one would bother to change. On the third ring a light came on upstairs. On the fifth I heard my sisters voice for the first time in almost ten years. She was groggy, and only mostly awake. My still, cold heart clenched, for a moment I thought it was my long dead mother. My brain kicked back into gear, and I knew that Marian had grown to sound like our Mom over the years.

"Hello? Who is this at this time of night?" She asked.

"Hi Faith." I said. I let it hang there, not sure how to proceed. Where I liked to needle Sheppard, I loved Faith and truly hoped she would know the sound of my voice, even after all these years.

"Tremen?" she said breathlessly.

"Yeah Sis it's me." I said softly. I was elated that she knew my voice. I felt an awful rush of home sickness, of desire to hug her. Yeah that's not gonna work out well fruit cup.

"Holy God on the Mount Tremen. Where have you been and why are you calling me now?"

"Because I have Ani's kids and I need to leave them with you." I said. The line hung heavy.

"Merciful Mother Mary." She breathed. "Everyone was sure they were dead. Where did you find them?"

"They were sold to a very bad man in New York. I found them and bought them from him. I have been caring for them in New York the last couple of years." I said. I could see her at the window, staring hard at the floor. She made the sign of the cross over her chest and kissed the rosary around her neck.

"I prayed very hard to God for wisdom from you on how to find them. I knew that if anyone could find them and bring them home it would be you Tremen. Of course at the time I thought you were dead. Now you turn up with the children. I suppose He works in mysterious ways." Her breath came across the phone receiver. "What about you? Are you healthy? Are you still..." her voice trailed off.

"A cannibal? Lets leave that for now. I am healthy. I am sound in my mind. But my time is short. I need to get you the kids and keep moving. Some very bad people are waiting for a chance to make my life miserable."

"You are all over the tv again. They say you are trafficking in children. Is that true Tremen? Did you kidnap somebodies child and hurt her?" Faith asked, her voice hard. Nobody in the Hall family approved of messing with kids.

"Faith, I set up the guy whose house I left the kid at. I saved the kid from a fate worse than death, I promise. Trust me when I tell you that in many ways I have been deep under cover for a long time. I can't come out of the shadows, but I can bring you Ani's kids. If you will take them." I said, taking a slow look around the neighborhood. I couldn't be too careful, Sheppard would have a spotter on Faith soon enough.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Tremen of course I will. Bring them to me as soon as possible. The FBI will be here any time to ask if you have contacted me."

"I will Faith, in an hour at most." I said. The coast seemed clear.

"Will I see you Tremen? Or will you just fade away into the shadows where you have hidden for so long?" Faith asked. I wanted to go to her, to hug her and kiss her head. We were close as kids, and I longed to feel her arms around me. Yeah, that wouldn't work out well. With my luck her actual faith had made her a walking acid bath for me. One thing about being a vampire, people who believed devoutly in God were dangerous. I avoided the faithful like a plague.

"I can't risk it Faith. This is already more than I should have done. Be ready. The kids will be here soon." I said.

"Go with God Tremen." She said,and then I heard the line click dead.

I walked back to the bus stop. I went to the hotel where the kids were waiting. I had my hat on down low and walked through the lobby of the hotel. I was able to catch an elevator upstairs to the room where Ani's children were staying. I knocked softly on the door.

Sharyl Stoddard answered the door. She is a mousy ex-school teacher I hired four years ago to tutor the kids. She eventually became their nanny, caring for them when I could not. Sharyl is 5'8", slightly stocky, with light brown hair that is going strongly gray. She smiled when she saw me at the door, her front teeth with a slight gap in strong white teeth. Her strong glasses made her eyes seem somewhat smaller than they actually do. She stepped back and ushered me in.

The kids looked up as soon as the door opened wide. Upon seeing me, they rushed to envelop me in solid hugs. Jason has grown up strong and lean. He has his Dad's light golden brown hair swept up and back, his developing muscle structure making him hard against my chest. I could feel the heat of him, the focused love that radiates out from his hug. I could see his father in him, and as his fathers friend, it made me nostalgic. His sister took the other side, her darker hair hanging past her shoulders. She was the not quite mature beauty of her mother, with a slightly more angular face from her father. They both smelled like sunshine and flowers. I hugged them tight and felt my throat constrict.

I had one child, Catherine. I loved Catherine with all my heart, her welfare still haunts me at times. I wish I could reach out to her like I had just done with Faith. But next to my love for Catherine...these two kids were my whole world. Truth be told, for a time I considered taking Jason and Calista to Catherine. Denver was safer than Chicago for the kids...but far more dangerous for me. I killed one of the Princes enforcers on my way out of the Mile High City in the mid-nineties. I was pretty sure that as small and insular as the city was, I would never make it in and out without the Prince taking a good shot at staking me out for the sun.

Not to mention I was much closer to solving their mothers assault here in Chicago. I have circled this mystery since my run from Denver. I arrived in Chicago on the run from the Camarilla in Denver. I only intended to go to ground in the Wincy City, perhaps set up shop and live here under an assumed name. When I got here I found my sister shot, her husband murdered, her children missing. Anika was in the hospital with a bullet wound in her, in a coma. I pursued what was happening, but made no headway. When things went sideways with Son, I ran again, this time for Montreal. From the City of Dark Miracles I began to find drips and drabs about what happened. Eventually I found out the kids were in New York with Donatello Giovanni. After almost a decade, I knew more now than I have in all those years about what happened. The downside was I still didn't know squat, just some names.

I kissed the kids heads, and we pushed into the room to sit scattered on the beds, and me on a chair. The kids started to tell me all about their adventures in Chicago, the museums they had seen, the stuff they had done. Calista, ever perceptive, turned dark eyes to me after a few minutes of talk. Her face was solemn. "Are we going to Aunt Faiths?" she asked.

I blew out air, even though I didn't need to breath. It was an affectation, a habit from my mortal days. I drew my breath back in and started to talk, then closed my mouth and nodded. I don't know how to sugar coat this. Jason's eyes turned shiny, Calista had tears running down her face.

"You're going to leave us aren't you?" Jason said.

"I have to leave you somewhere safe. I told you that. Bad people would like to hurt you, and they can't do that if you are with Aunt Faith." I said. I was trying to show strength and solidity. I didn't want them to see the jealous monster that wanted to keep them with me, damn the danger. "I have a lead on what happened to your mom. I need you safe so I can follow it."

They looked at each other and nodded. Once again they crowded in on me, hugging me and crying. I hugged them back. My throat hurt, and I was sure tears of blood were welling up in my eyes.

"We love you Uncle Tremen. We want you to come back and see us when you can. Please don't go away forever." Calista said to me softly. Her thin, muscular body shook softly with her sobs, though she was trying hard to not all out cry.

"I promise you I will be back to see you. I love you guys too. You are my world. When I come back we will make pancakes together and you can tell me all about your new schools." I said.

I rose up, hugging them to me. "I have to go. Mrs. Stoddard, you have Faith's address. Please get them there as soon as possible. Don't rest, and don't trust anyone until you get there."

I broke away from the kids after one more hug each. I hugged Mrs. Stoddard, and out the door I went. When I got to the elevator, I could see steaks of blood running out of my eyes. I hadn't cried since my wife died. I felt something harden in my gut, felt my Beast snarl. There was genuine rage in my heart. As a doctor I tried hard to protect life, but I knew all the things to kill very well. Maureen O'Leery was going to pay for this. I would see the bitch dead or die trying.

Recruiting Devils

Chicago is an old city. It has warrens of streets, and old, rundown sections of town. There are places where the lower classes have made homes, whole neighborhoods of poor people. Poor people make good feeding for vampires, the police don't really push to find their killers, and there are lots of reasons why someone might die there. That's why those places always draw the Sabbat.

The Sabbat are vampires vampires. They revel int he fact that they are undead, and feed off of humanity. They dig the whole shtick. They love to flirt with the danger of flames, love to prove how non-human they are. They think the Camarilla are stooges. Chicago has turned them back a couple of times.

Now Chicago is a Camarilla city. Hard Core. But the Sabbat is jealous of all that territory and is always looking to take a little back. So I knew (via my time here before and the memories of Son) that there were a couple of cells located in the city. There are the Forsaken (because they got left here after the last attempt went south), the Daughters of Darkness, and the Fifth Column. All serious about staying hidden and sowing some seeds of revolution when they can.

I rode the bus across the city to the South Side...where everyone knows things are bad. Technology and time had not been kind to this area. The families that lived here were poor, the wages awful. After the manufacturing economy collapsed, the working families here were left hanging. My grandfather worked his whole life in these neighborhoods taking care of these Polish, Italian, German families. Many of the European families have moved out, and left the South side to black, Mexican, and Asian families.

I walked down the darkened streets. Broken cars littered the streets, trash blew ahead of me. Many of these lawns were overgrown, or already turning brown from lack of care. I could see a plethora of broken windows, and the night was filled with the noise of barking dogs, over loud tv's, and the occasional yelling of domestic bliss or abuse. I heightened my senses, becoming sharply aware of wafts of cigarette and pot smoke, urine and old alcohol. If there was ever a fugue of despair, it could be found on the south side of Chicago.

I walked several blocks, slipping into the memories of Son. Feeling his personality in the memories is like stepping into warm oil, not bad until you moved in them to realize that the filth wouldn't rub off easily. I began trying to match up what he had seen with the streets I was walking. Within a few minutes I had found the run down dive I was looking for, known locally as the Gato Pelado. The reek of old beer, sweat and sex hung around the building. I could see folks coming out and going in. Bikers, hookers, drug dealers. I didn't know their names, but my time on the streets had allowed me to read their dress and behavior like many can read a book.

I walked to the door and went inside. Pounding music, cigarette and cigar smoke greeted me like the hug of leper. Inside the light was low, even before the clouds of smoke obscuring the ceiling. I could see some guys playing cards. Women of negotiable affection stood or sat around the room. Several heavy drinkers were scattered around the room, already deep in their cups. The bar tender watched me from the time I entered the door. I walked straight to him, and with my vampire senses could tell he was human.

"Ruby Whiskey" I said, looking the bartender in the eyes.

He nodded, reached under the bar and brought out a black, square bottle. He filled me a low ball glass two fingers full and pushed it to me.

"Any management around?" I asked, hoping to talk to one of the vampires that were in the building.

"Up the stairs and end of the hall." He said and turned away.

I shifted my body posture, my gait. I was no longer trying to blend, now I wanted to be the baddest shark on the block. I brought my head up, and put a grim smile on my face. I puffed my chest out, and moved with the solid assurance of one who would kill at the slightest provocation. My beast snarled to the top of my mind, and it's rage and anger boiled off me in waves. Mortals moved aside, careful not to touch me. Adding the ultimate piece to my aura was the moment I opened my soul to the cold of the grave, allowing the emptiness of oblivion fill me, completing the solidity of my personality wall.

Up the stairs two at a time, my hands checking the placement of my knives, guns, etc. I could feel movement in the rooms nearby, but felt it only peripherally, none of it mattered to the monster in me. The reek of old booze, human sweat, and the hollow tangy iron of rotted blood filled the corridor. I could feel the subtle push of some personality ahead. Another beast in movement. To my right.

I knocked, waited a couple beats and opened the door.

---

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Silvia Félix -- 32 yrs - Attractive Hispanic woman -- Zackery Hampson - - 18 yrs - Black High School Athlete -- Radosław Adamczyk -- 13 yrs - Polish teen -- Jimmy Holcomb -- "Neon" -- 7 yrs -- Former vampire -- Ogden Becket -- 9 yrs -- most recent victim