Chapter Six

Chapter Six
Initiation

Greywolf watches his temporary companion feeding off the woman. She does not give into the Kiss right away, but fights it for a short while, though a bit longer than most kine do. Soon enough, though she goes limp, as his fellow Kindred continues to drain the precious blood from her.

The woman finally stops, and licks the woman’s neck before setting her body down on the asphalt. She does this for two reasons: to make the wound close and to get the last sweet drops of her vitae. She looks to Greywolf, who is approaching her. “Mmm…she was delicious.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Would you like a taste?” She asks, offering him the back of her palm.

Greywolf shakes his head. “Give her your blood, Anne, or the ghoul will die, and the night’s excursion is in vain.” He warns. The female Kindred bends down for a moment and withdraws a knife from a sheath at her ankle. Greywolf backs away, staying well out of the way of the ten-inch blade. Without hesitation, Anne runs it across her palm, slicing it open. Dark blood wells up from the wound, and she presses it to the woman’s lips. The woman does not stir a muscle as Anne’s blood flows into her mouth. She wipes the blade on the woman’s white blouse, festooning it with a smear of red. She concentrates a moment, and the cut on her palm closes. The task done, she puts the knife away.

With that done, Greywolf picks up the woman. Even though she was unconscious, she was still holding onto her purse tightly out of some keenly honed female instinct. Very soon, Mara Ravenclaw would have more important things to worry about. He lays the unconscious attorney on a mattress in the back of the van. He then turns to the woman. “Get in.” He orders. He walks around to the driver’s side of the van and climbs into the seat. He does not look back, but he hears the panel door close, so he starts up the van and drives off.

The woman studies the unconscious quarry. With her long dark brown hair and pale skin, the woman was neither pretty nor homely, but rather just average. She could be just another face in the crowd. But what a woman this kine was. She had single-handedly decked that jerk in the bar. Greywolf had been right about her. This kine had the passion and fire to be worthy of being my ghoul. Plus, she could kick ass and take names when she had to. Which was good when your back was against the wall and your allies few. The woman sits on the edge of the mattress. She strokes the nap of the woman’s heavy wool coat. She was still motionless. The blood had not yet taken hold. But it would. It had to work this time. She was a fighter and wouldn’t, no she couldn’t give up and simply die.

Greywolf drives past the Walthew Building. That was Ms. Ravenclaw’s office. The operative word here of course being “was”. He continues to head down Third Avenue, driving fast, but keeping just a tick above the speed limit. The last thing he wanted was to get pulled over by the police. There was no time to lose, which is why he had selected this particular haven, a warehouse in the downtown district for its vicinity to Mara’s home, office and hangout. She should be rising soon, assuming that the blood had been delivered in enough time. Greywolf twists the wheel right and pulls the dented van into an industrial area riddled with warehouses and loading docks. As he takes the corner sharply, Greywolf hears a small thump as the woman’s body rolls off the mattress. There was no time to worry about that now.

Greywolf reaches for the garage door opener clipped to the top of the driver’s side visor. He pushes the button, and one of the many doors begins to open. He pulls into the building. There are no windows, but there is a tennis ball hanging from the rafters. He drives through the darkened building slowly, and when the tennis ball touches the windshield, he stops the van, shuts off the engine and gets out. He walks around to the other side and opens the panel door.

Greywolf extends his hand toward the woman to help her out. Of all the Brujah Anarchs in Seattle, Anne Bonnie was the one he was able to trust the most. But perhaps that was because she owed him a lot of favors. Or maybe because in addition to being Clan mates, they were both ten steps removed from Caine, the Father of all Kindred. Though it was not that unusual, it was a bit of a rarity among the Seattle Anarchs, for most of them were usually born of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Generations. Or perhaps he liked her because she was so blinded by her passion to recreate the persona of Anne Bonny, one of the most notorious female pirates, that she did not realize you did not have to entirely drain a kine’s blood in order to create the perfect ghoul. Which fit in perfectly with his own plans for Mara Ravenclaw.

Greywolf turns to Anne Bonnie. “I’ll get the lights.” He tells her. “When they come on, take her out of the van and put her on the table.”

“Sure thing.” She replies.

Even in the darkness, Greywolf knows his way around every inch of his haven. He’d had this haven for many, many years, even though he rarely used it for his daytime slumbers, as the age of the building didn’t allow the retrofitting of a state of the art security system. And for Kindred, a good security system for the place one slept during the day could often mean the difference between life and death. Especially when the Prince of Seattle had a rather bad habit of sending out ghoul squads for daytime raids on the havens of the resident Kindred to keep them on their toes. Perhaps it was because Seattle was a city where a large number of Anarch Kindred existed along with the Camarilla ones, and both sides barely tolerated the other.

Greywolf flips on the lights, revealing a large, nearly empty space. When it came down to it, Kindred did not need a lot of creature comforts, and having been a soldier in life, he kept his surroundings austere, in case he might need to leave on a moment’s notice. It had been some time, though, since he had been forced into such a situation. There was little in the way of furniture in the building. A stainless steel table in the middle of the building was actually the largest piece of furniture. A long green and white striped chair cushion had been placed on the top of it, but it did not hide the padded leather restraints. A stainless steel tray of instruments covered with a white cloth was shoved against one wall. Usually, Greywolf used this place for interrogations, but tonight, if luck were on their side, it would become the birthplace of Seattle’s newest Kindred.

Anne Bonnie picks up the woman. She was dead weight now, but hopefully that was not for too much longer. She smiles as she places her gently on the table. Her very first ghoul. Of course, she would name her Mary Read, after her namesake’s companion. And like Mary Read, this one would be a fierce fighter. She strokes the woman’s brown curling locks. It was so very soft. She would enjoy many nights to come of entwining her fingers in it.

Mara grabs the woman’s hand and pulls it close. Her eyes snap open and she sits up. Out of pure instinct, she bites Anne Bonnie’s arm, puncturing the skin with her own fangs and drawing blood from it like a babe might suck from its mother’s breast.

Greywolf smiles. Good. The blood had come in time, and now she was awake. He runs over to the table, and calling upon his gifts of blood, he sends blood in the direction of his biceps, triceps, quadriceps and deltoids, willing himself to be stronger. He grabs Mara’s left arm and while she is occupied with Anne Bonnie, he places it in the restraint and cinches it down tight. It was unlikely that a newly made whelp would be able to escape from two Kindred, but it was wise not to take chances. “Quick!” He orders. “Get the other arm restrained. But Anne Bonnie does not answer, as she is caught up in the passion of the Kiss.

Mara stops feeding for a moment to look directly at Greywolf. She utters an inhuman growl as Greywolf pulls Anne Bonnie’s arm away from her, breaking both from their respective reveries. He shoves her down onto the table, giving Anne Bonnie the perfect opportunity to place Mara’s other hand in the restraint. She steps aside to let Greywolf, but holds the woman’s hand as Greywolf buckles the fleece padded leather strap. The woman is still struggling, but before long she closes her eyes again. Anne Bonnie looks at the wounds on her arm. She’d bit her! She watches the wounds heal once more.

Greywolf turns to Anne, who is busy healing her wounds. The look of surprise on her face said it all. She hadn’t been expecting the woman to bite her, but then, after ten years of unlife, she had never been able to create a ghoul. And she still had yet to succeed. Because Mara wasn’t a ghoul, she was now a Kindred, like they were. Though the change was not yet complete, which is why the restraints were necessary. Now, the next step was to get rid of the odious Anne Bonnie. And he had a pretty good idea of how to do that.

“So what’s the next step?” Anne puts a hand on her hip.

“We wait for the change to take effect.” Greywolf replies. “In the meantime, we need to buy a bit of time. I want you to call her employer and pretend you’re her calling in to say you’re taking a couple of personal days.”

“Okay.” Anne Bonnie replies and heads back to the van. The woman’s purse had come loose when Greywolf had turned onto the street, so she goes to retrieve it. The panel door had been left open, so she climbs inside and finds the black purse lying against the other wall. The clasp was not closed, but very little had fallen out. A tube of lipstick, which upon closer examination, turned out to be a brick red color. A color not unlike that of dried blood. She puts that away and reaches into the purse. She had been trying to get something out of the purse. A weapon of some sort? She looks inside, and catches a glimpse of metal. She takes it out. A cylinder of pepper spray. No sign of a gun or any other sort of weapon besides that. There was a cell phone, but she didn’t mess with electronic devices. They were evil.

Next, Anne Bonnie removes the wallet. That should prove interesting indeed. The first thing she looks for is a Drivers License. Mara Ravenclaw. A name rather close to that of Mary Read, for Mary was merely a derivative of Mara, and both surnames bore the same first initial of R. Born November 13th, 1966, with a downtown address. She then continues to go through the contents, and comes across a small stack of business cards. Perhaps her boss’s card was in it. She takes them out and sees the crown logo in the top left corner. She looks at the card. Mara Ravenclaw, Attorney. She looks at the next card and the next. They were all the same. Ah hell, the bitch was a lawyer.

She drops the cards and gets out of the van. Using her own gifts, Anne Bonnie reaches Greywolf within a matter of seconds. Before he can react, she smacks him upside the back of his head. “You bastard! You didn’t tell me she was a lawyer!” She looks contemptuously at the woman, and doesn’t seem to notice that she still isn’t breathing. “A slave far better suited for the Ventrue.”

Greywolf hides his smile behind an emotionless mask. “This one helps people. She’s a Public Defender, not some corporate dog that inspires lawyer jokes.”

Anne Bonnie shoots him a look of pure hatred. It was a good thing looks couldn’t kill. “She’s still a fucking lawyer!” She screams. “Not worthy of the line of Brujah!” She then turns on one booted heel and walks away from the table, turning her back on both Greywolf and the unconscious attorney. She sighs. Another effort entirely wasted. She would have to try again, but next time she would be more choosy, more careful. She would rely upon her own research rather than trusting it to someone else. She wraps her arms around herself as she leaves the warehouse, trying to comfort herself on the failure of this latest effort to create a ghoul.

Greywolf does not stop Anne Bonnie as she leaves. He narrows his eyes as he watches her walk away, out of the warehouse. “Good riddance.” He mutters. He turns his attention to the table, and the woman lying on it. He had his prize now, and that was all that mattered. Miss Ravenclaw was pale prior to her death, but here, on this table under the harsh fluorescent lights, her skin was waxy and so drained of any color that it was nearly white. The change had not taken hold as of yet, and until it was complete, the newly made Kindred functioned solely upon their base animal instincts.

Greywolf pulls up a folding chair and sets it next to the table, turning it backwards before he sits down. He watches the woman, lying there motionless. He bites his own finger and squeezes a couple of drops into Mara’s mouth, then runs the bloodstained finger across her lips. And so the vigil begins.