Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight
Pinch Me

When I awoke, I found myself in my own apartment, safely tucked underneath the sheets and the familiar down comforter with its dark blue cover that I used during the cold winter nights of Seattle. The previous night must have all been a bad dream, but why didn’t I remember coming home? I look around, and noticed that there were things that were different. The blinds, which I normally left open, had been drawn tightly closed. I roll over and look at my alarm clock. I didn’t remember hearing it go off. It was after 5 o’clock p.m. P.M.? Where the hell had the day gone? Well, at least it was Saturday. It was still Saturday, wasn’t it?

I get out of bed, dressed only in my bra and panties, just like I usually did. I open up my dresser and pull out a pair of faded blue jeans from out of one drawer, and from my shirt drawer, I take out a dark red long sleeved shirt with lacing in the front. As I pulled it on, the shirt molded to the contours of my body. A silver-plated brush comb and mirror set sits on top of my dresser. I pick up the mirror once again, turning the object in my hand to see the mirror and the blue and white floral damask fabric on the back. The set had been my gran’s once upon a time, handed down to my mother, reclaimed by my gran after my mother’s death, and then given to me after I came to live with my gran. I set the mirror down, and brush my long brown hair back into submission using the matching brush.

Well, it may be late, but it’s not too late for a caffeine fix. I walk out of my bedroom toward the kitchen. As I reach the living room, I freeze. The blinds had been pulled shut, and I never close those. And in the darkness, I could see someone sitting in the sofa. The guy from my dream! What was his name? Ah, yes, Greywolf. He was scanning my body with his eyes. And he wasn’t being subtle about it. “Enjoying the view?” I ask. A chill comes upon me. Maybe it hadn’t been a dream after all. But if that were the case, it would mean I was a vampire, and vampires don’t exist.

Greywolf reaches behind him and flips on the light. His eyes shine with amusement. He shrugs. “You could say that.” He replies cryptically. He gets up from his place on the couch, and I continue heading to the kitchen. I look at the knives sitting in the butcher block and momentarily think about picking up one of them and attacking the man, but when I look at Greywolf, the thoughts flee from me immediately. I take the bag of coffee down from the shelf and set it on the counter. “Would you like some coffee?” I ask, putting the filter into the coffee maker.

“Don’t bother.” Greywolf tells me as I spoon the coffee from the bag into the filter basket. “I don’t drink coffee, nor can you drink it anymore.”

I couldn’t drink coffee? This had to be some nightmare, and I just needed to wake up. I pinch myself. It hurts a little, and I look around. I am still in my kitchen, and the guy is still on my couch. Shit. It wasn’t a dream. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why can’t I drink coffee?”

“Because your body can no longer digest normal food and drink. Only blood will truly satisfy a Kindred’s hunger.”

Kindred. That was what he had said I was. It was their term for what mere mortals called vampires. I pour the water into the coffee maker and watch the dark brown liquid brewing and filling the pot. I do not say a word to Greywolf, but alternately watch him and the pot. Before long, I get a cup down from the cupboard, a black one with gold lettering that spoke of the SBA, otherwise known as the Seattle Bar Association. When the last drop has fallen into the pot, I pour myself a cup of coffee. I take a sip. I can taste some of the coffee’s more subtle notes. I don’t recall ever tasting them before tonight. I don’t feel any different, at least not right away.
I drink the coffee, daring Greywolf to say anything. He doesn’t.

Within five minutes, I feel the acid rising from my stomach. I feel cold and clammy, and know that I was about to vomit. I rush to the sink and throw up, barely making it there in time. I run the water, and the liquid goes down the drain. I start to take a drink from the faucet, but I stop myself, and instead wipe my mouth off with a towel. Maybe he was right after all. “You see? Your body no longer tolerates food and drink. It is time that you cast off your human habits and start accepting the fact that you are Kindred.”

“Never!” I shout, and toss the empty coffee cup at him. Greywolf gets up, and in a blinding flash of speed, meets the cup halfway, catching it in his hand. He sets it back on the countertop. “You’re not human.”

Greywolf offers the flash of a cruel smile. “That, my dear, is what I’ve been trying to tell you. We aren’t human anymore. We are Kindred, and beyond the reach of most forms of death. Old age, cancer, heart disease, none of them can harm us anymore. In fact, there is little that can. Fire, sunlight, decapitation, those are the only sure methods.”

I had slept through the entire day, just like Greywolf had predicted. Perhaps there was truth in what he was telling me. Okay, so perhaps I should play along. I nod, and go to sit down on the couch. “Okay, so I’m dead, and there isn’t much that can kill me. What else do I need to know?”

“Ah, the impatience of a Brujah. Has it taken hold so soon? Or is it merely a reflection of your own mortal passions?” Greywolf shrugs. “There is a great deal you will need to learn, and it will take a great deal of time to learn everything. So for now, I will teach you only the most important things, the things you need to know in order to survive in our world. One of the most important is that you need to be more careful about where you choose to live. Like your mortal job, you need to abandon this place in favor of some place more secure. Take only what you can pack in a few suitcases. We will get rid of the rest.”

And so the lessons began while I packed. I learned a great deal that night while under Greywolf’s tutelage and watchful eye. I learned about Clans, the distinct groups of Kindred descended from one progenitor. I learned that I was a member of Clan Brujah, descended from one named Troile, and that our blood left us quick to anger. I also learned the names of the other Clans. Ventrue, Malkavian, Setite, Tzimisce, Tremere, Giovanni, Lasombra, Toreador, Gangrel, Assamite, Nosferatu, and the Caitiff, who were those not Kindred claimed by any Clan. Greywolf told me I was lucky. The woman that had bitten me and made me Kindred, who is now my Sire? Is that the word? She had left shortly afterwards, and if Greywolf had not chosen to be my mentor, then I would also be a Caitiff.

Greywolf then spoke to me of the sects, and the great struggle that raged between them. On the one side, the Camarilla with their Traditions; on the other, the Sabbat, who believed themselves to be predators at the top of the food chain. In the middle somewhere were the Independents, who chose no sides, and the Anarchs, who rebelled against both of them. He told me that the sects hold different cities, and that Seattle was one of the more unusual cities, in that while the Camarilla held it, there was a sizable presence of Anarchs here because the Prince, the Kindred in charge of the city, actually allowed the Anarchs to remain as long as they did not cause too much trouble. He told me that while he was a staunch supporter of the Camarilla society here, my Sire was actually an Anarch.

Since it was Greywolf’s intention to introduce me to Camarilla society, I had to learn the Traditions they held so dear. Fortunately, there were only six, and they were simple enough to remember. Respect other people’s property, don’t reveal your nature to humans, responsibility for your progeny, introduce yourself to the Prince of the city, and don’t create progeny unless you have permission from the Prince. I ask Greywolf if my Sire had had permission to make me a vampire, he replies with a shrug. “She is an Anarch.” He told me, “And thus not subject to Camarilla Traditions.”

In the end, I got rid most of my furniture and household items. Most of what I owned was stuff I’d scrounged at a thrift store. We piled into Greywolf’s van and hauled it all off to a furniture consignment place and taken the paltry sum he gave us for it. The few pots and pans I had I left by the dumpster in hopes that someone else might claim them, and the food? Well, I didn’t have a lot of food around, so it simply got tossed. I packed what clothes I could into three large suitcases, the ones I’d had since I was little, along with some personal items. Among them was the expensive jewelry that had belonged to my mother, the gifts my gran had given me, and the two pillows from my bed. Those I took solely for my own comfort. I then drafted two letters; the first was to the landlord, expressing my intent to vacate the premises, and put it through the mail slot. In the end, I’d lose my deposit, but it was better than paying rent for a place I wasn’t going to use. The second was addressed to Mr. Marquis at the Office of the Public Defender, and was my formal resignation, which I intended to have delivered by courier Monday morning. I called the service, which fortunately offered 24-hour pickup, and had the delivery billed to my credit card. I also made the necessary arrangements to have the utilities shut off on Monday and the phone disconnected. I intended to keep my cell phone for a while though.

Once the service picked up the letter, we left the apartment that had been my home for the last three years. Midnight had long since passed, but I didn’t feel tired. Normally, I’d be on my way to bed right about now. I study my companion as he drives in silence, and I wonder where we were going. It wasn’t back to that warehouse, because he was headed in a different direction. However, I dared not speak. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer. We continue to drive on, a series of so many turns that I lost track after about ten. That was another lesson he’d imparted to me. That you shouldn’t let too many people know the location of your haven. The sanctity of one’s haven, it seemed, was a matter of life and death, as one was virtually helpless during the day. If one’s enemy was to learn where your haven was, it was a simple matter to send someone to attack you during the day, as Kindred often had human allies, or even servants called ghouls, that were actually humans enhanced by the addition of Kindred blood.

We head to the SoDo district, which is named for being south of the Kingdome, home to Seattle’s pro football and baseball franchises, and one of the biggest eyesores in the Emerald City. It didn’t really surprise me that we were in the Industrial District; there were lots of available warehouses. “I thought you said it was a bad idea to let people know where your haven was. The Industrial District is crawling with people during the day.” I knew this well, as I’d visited the place on more than a few occasions to hunt down a client or witness.

“And that is why it is the perfect place.” Greywolf replies. “It is better to sleep in a populated area than one that is not. There are more eyes to watch over you.”

In an odd way, that actually made sense. I watch as he pulls the van into a building marked Warm Industries. It sat in stark contrast to some of the surrounding buildings, which were marked by huge swirls of graffiti and numerous broken windows, for it didn’t have a single window broken, though it did bear patches of fresher paint in spots, an indication of where graffiti had been painted over using the same color of paint. He must have seen me looking at the other buildings, because he then said “Neglect spawns more neglect, and eventually it attracts transients, which compromises the building’s security.”

This time, Greywolf stops the van in front of a rolling dock and gets out. “Wait in the car.” He punches some numbers on a security pad mounted on the wall nearby, being careful to cover the numbers so I can’t see them. The door slides open on well-oiled tracks. He gets back in the van and drives into the building. This time, there are lights on, and I can see that the warehouse is actually a rather small and empty space, with a door that must lead into the rest of the building. As soon as he stops, I slide out of the front seat of the van. I grab my purse, but wait for his leave before I start taking out the rest of my things.

Greywolf walks around the van toward me. “You might as well take your bags for now. You will be staying with me until I deem otherwise.” I nod, and get a couple bags out of the car. Seeing my opportunity, I throw them at him and then run toward the small door. A large building like this should have more than one entrance or exit, and with any luck, they could be unlocked from the inside. But almost as soon as I try to run, he is on me. He presses me against the wall and twists my right arm behind me. He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “That was stupid. Even if you knew how to use your gifts, I can still move much faster than you.”

Gifts? What the hell was he talking about now? He hadn’t said anything about gifts. I have little time to think about it, because he forces me through the very door I was trying to run toward. Keeping a firm grip on my arm, he turns on the lights. The place was sparsely furnished, but there was more furniture here than in the warehouse we’d slept last night. It must be one of his more permanent havens, and the furniture was probably there to offer the appearance of an occupied space, because there were desks and some sort of machinery on this floor. He pushes me toward the stairs. “Up the stairs.” He orders.

I walk up the stairs, and see that my suspicions were confirmed, as this floor was quite bare and nearly unfurnished. Only a few reclining chairs, and a couple of mattresses were scattered around the open space. The familiar glow of a computer screen was visible from an adjacent room, but I wasn’t able to figure out what the room was, as I felt a nudge from behind. I was forced to move again. When we get to the other side of the room, he speaks again. “Stop.” Having little choice, I obey. He does not loosen his grip on my arm. “You had me fooled for a bit there. I thought you had accepted what you are.”

“You can’t keep me prisoner. There are laws against that.”

Greywolf laughs and forces my arm farther up my back. I bite my lip rather than cry out from the pain. “Kine laws do not apply to us. Even though I did not make you, you are now my Childe. As my Childe, you are mine until such time as I choose to release you.”

I gather up what courage I had. “I belong to no one.”

“Brave words, childe.” With that, Greywolf picks me up and throws me against the adjacent wall. I barely have time to scream as my body slams into the wall, denting the plaster. I try to get up, but he grabs me by the hair and pulls me to my feet. I reach my hand back and put my own hand underneath his in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. “But wrong.” He spins me around to face him, and as I looked into his pale blue eyes, I felt my anger towards him melt away. He lets go of my hair. “That’s better.” He reaches up and strokes my hair, smiling at me.
“You will make a fine Brujah, my dear Raven. But a young vampire does not last long in Seattle without the protection of their Sire. Let me help you.”

I was confused. One minute, he tosses me against the wall, the other he’s offering me his help. “I don’t understand. Why are you helping me if I’m not your Childe?”

Greywolf smiles and strokes my face. “Of all the Brujah in Seattle, I am the eldest of them all. There is still a great deal about this modern world that is beyond me. I need someone to help me deal with some of this…modern technology.”

Funny. It seemed to me like he was doing just fine. “I see.” I suddenly yawn. The sleepiness was overtaking me again. I glance at my watch. It was nearly five a.m. The sun was going to rise soon, and I had to find a safe place to sleep. I start looking around frantically.

Greywolf notices my distress. “There is a suitable place to sleep on this floor of the building.” He offers me his arm. “Follow me.” It was almost as if he had entirely forgotten or forgiven me for my earlier escape attempt. I take his arm. In the end, I had quit my job and abandoned my apartment. Did I really have any other choice? At this point, I did not.