Nanowrimo and Other Musings

Christmas Crafts

2009-12-13T22:37:00.000-08:00

So in November during the heat of Nanowrimo, I came across UHU's sample offer thanks to Go Freebies.com. Basically, they send you project materials and a sample of their product in exchange for your opinions. I thought the project sounded easy, so I sent an email, and quickly learned that there were no samples left to be had, but they had projects every month.

December's project was to create glass bead magnets. I've seen this done before where a family made a whole bunch to sell at a flea market using very small stickers. They were cute, but not appealing enough to me that I wanted to buy any. I requested a sample and was pleased to find that I'd been selected.

When my package arrived, I found they'd supplied me with a full size bottle of their Twist and Glue product, along with ten glass beads and ten magnets. I decided to go with a wintery theme for most of them, and used a couple old Christmas cards with snowflake images for all but one.

The instructions were pretty simple. The glue was pretty easy to use, though the glue did blow tiny bubbles a few times while I was using it. After gluing the paper to the beads, I used my hubby's pocketknife to cut away the excess paper and then glued the magnets on. The magnets had a little tendency to slide off the glue, but I remedied it by standing the bead on the magnet. The glue dried amazingly fast, and I was even able to use it to repair the plastic USB Christmas tree too.

Here are pictures of the finished product. Four of them are going to be a Secret Santa gift. I'm keeping the rest. I love snowflakes :)

Phew!

2009-12-04T21:23:00.000-08:00

Once again, it comes down to the wire.

On midnight Sunday, I wound out having my most productive day ever with over 4,000 words written in a single day! This brought the total word count to 48,333, which meant that after 29 days, I finally managed to get caught up.

With only 1,667 words to write to make the 50,000 words, I was feeling relatively good. I worked for another hour and a half before heading to bed, which left only about 1,300 words to go. I toyed with the idea of calling in sick, and rejected it. I took an hour long lunch and banged out a few hundred more words. I spent my afternoon break writing a few more words by hand. I thought I might get more written on the drive home, but I managed to make it through the majority of the lights.

But once I got home, it was tough going. I got kind of stuck until about 9. At 10 pm, my son called me, wanting to talk while he waited to catch the MAX. I listened and continued to type. I still had a few hundred words to go. I knuckled down and managed to reach 50,000 words around 11:00. Feeling drained, I decided to call it a night at 11:30 with 50,264 words and 1,931 words written for the day, an improvement from last year on both stats.

I also came up with the grain of a possible idea for next year's Nano. It's bookmarked and I'll come back to it later. And I don't think I'm going to Las Vegas in November next year. So maybe I'll try for 51,000 words. :)

Uncertainty

2009-11-29T11:06:00.000-08:00

Wow, the last weekend day of 2009! Where did the time go? I've still got slightly less than 4,500 words before the deadline of midnight Tuesday. I'm not sure I'm going to make it, but my confidence grows with every 100 words I bang out.

So now for a short intermission of household chores and tea brewing, and I'll be back at it once more!

Halfway there!

2009-11-18T23:49:00.000-08:00

Well, things didn't go quite as well as I hoped. On my way home from work, the flash drive containing my Nano fell out of my purse and slipped under the seat. I had to dig it out, which wasn't an easy task. One of my two plot ninjas is also missing, as it probably also fell out of my purse and slipped under the seat, but I didn't notice that in my haste to make it in the door. I've still got one though, and he seems to be helping.

Tonight I made it to 25K, the halfway point, and continued to forge ahead. I spent a little time celebrating it and watched the Blazers game on tv. (They pulled out a win...barely) I made it to 26K a little after 11. When all was said and done, I fell about 40 words short of my current catch up point, but hey, that still means I wrote over 1,900 words today, and over 2,000 yesterday. I'm still hopeful about catching up...the weekend isn't too far away and I hope to make some real progress....

Nanowrimo Souvenirs

2009-11-13T21:05:00.000-08:00

If I haven't mentioned it before, this is my 6th year doing Nanowrimo.

Over the years, I've collected various objects that either inspired or aided me in my quest for 50,000 words. The most memorable items include:

Bicentennial quarter - exceedingly rare to find in your change these days, it was the inspiration for my 2008 Nano, Tricentennial.

Coffee cup - arrived in my Nanowrimo care package last year.

pair of postcards from Illinois- (see above). I've included postcards from the Rose City when I sent out my Nanowrimo care packages.

squishy six-sided die - a great stress reliever bought for my 2007 Nano A Roll of the Dice.

set of light blue frosted polyhedral dice - picked up at a convention many years ago as 'swag'. Used for my 2007 Nano as a decision making tool.

pair of 1 1/4" ninja figures - picked up in Las Vegas last week during the convention I attended. They are 'plot ninjas', helping me boost my word count.

pair of rubber bouncy balls given to me by an ML (Municpal Liason) in 2005. I chose them because my MC 'had balls', literally and figuratively...

Okay, so I don't really have much in the way of souvenirs for my 2004 Nano, but still, it's starting to be an impressive collection.

2,000 word day!

2009-11-10T23:05:00.001-08:00

Still feeling poorly from a lingering cold/sinus infection, I decided to stay home from work. I got up around 9:30 am and set to work on the Nano. I also got the clean dishes put away and did three loads of laundry.

But more importantly, I managed to write over 2,000 words today. Finally, I was able to catch up on some of the word count I lost while I was in Las Vegas this last weekend.

Unfortunately, I think I'm feeling well enough that I'm going to go in to work tomorrow....

We interrupt this Nano....

2009-11-04T23:40:00.000-08:00

4 days and so far so good. I've hit 4,500 words, which is a bit behind, but not terribly so. I hope to make a lot of progress on our flight to Las Vegas. I'm attending a convention, so I don't expect to get a lot of writing done this weekend except in small bits and pieces.

However, I do expect to have a lot of fun...and I'll miss my two cats terribly.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

2009-10-31T23:17:00.000-07:00

Less than an hour to go. I'm tired after playing 36 holes of disc golf (and getting up too early to play), but I'm determined to make it to midnight. I'd like to make it to two and see the Changing of the Time, but that's a different battle.

Another cup of tea for me? Probably.

What to do? The notes are open, the spreadsheet is waiting. A new word document awaits. Now to file some papers and wait with bated breath.

Breakthrough!

2009-10-21T23:35:00.000-07:00

Well, I was fretting about not having a good idea, but it seems the logjam broke, and the outline actually started coming together. I have an end in mind, but as always, the trickiest part is getting there from the beginning.

I still need more characters, but I have decided on the main character. She's not going to have a very good day...

Wow, October Already

2009-10-11T22:17:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's October already and I've got the small fragment of an idea for a Nanonovel. So I have the main character. Now I need a team to build around the MC. And they need to have some interactions between them too. Perhaps they can be like the A-Team of old. Nah, I've never been too good at crazy.

I do have something going for me this year, as Daylight Savings Time actually ends on November 1st, which means an extra hour of writing. :) I'm going to be going to Las Vegas for a few days in November too, which means I'll have less time to write, but I can certainly write on the plane.

But until then, there's Halloween to worry about. I have three Halloween party invitations. One (the week prior) I can't do because we'll be out of town that week. Usually it falls on my gaming night. The other is hosted by a local store, and the last is a friend of my hubby's. We'll probably not go to them, as we're playing the Hope Open, a disc golf tournament in Corvallis.

Counting the days....

The 1st of September

2009-09-01T21:48:00.000-07:00

Wow, the summer's over. Nanowrimo isn't too far off. This year's going to be challenging, I think, as I'm planning to go to Neoncon in Las Vegas from the 5th to the 8th. At least they have lunch and dinner breaks, so maybe I can sneak in some novelling.

But right now, I still have no idea what I'm going to write. Nothing new, really. But there's still time.

Speaking of time, work is still as stressful as ever. At least I get to work overtime, but that's because one of my co-workers went back to Texas, so now there are only 4 of us doing the work of 6. Ugh! I suppose I should be glad that I have a job, since my state has the 2nd highest unemployment rate in the whole country.

The other challenge is Facebook. It's a major time sucker. Must cut back....

April Sunshine

2009-04-05T15:10:00.000-07:00

So now it's April and the first weekend of nice weather we've had here in ages! So I didn't waste it and went out disc golfing. It was supposed to be me, my hubby and two friends, but another couple decided to join us Friday evening, and two more guys showed up that morning, so we started with a huge group of 8 but soon decided to split off - three girls, five guys. Only problem, the three of us didn't have a clue about the course. We played 17 holes and then called it quits. Doh!

Okay, so I've been occasionally working on rewriting my 2007 Nanonovel. I've also taken back the reins of Mage Phoenix. But I suppose I should start thinking about 2009's novel. Only thing is that there's a convention in Las Vegas that I'm thinking about attending. Fortunately it's the first weekend of November, so maybe I won't lose too much word count. :)

And I'm back to trying to find a different job. I made some progress in February, but my grandfather's death in March set me back a little ways. I haven't found many jobs that have met my criteria but I'm still looking...hope springs eternal, right?

Victory Lap!!!!

2008-11-30T22:11:00.000-08:00

So, the day started off a little slow. I lost about three hundred words due to an odd computer glitch. But I managed to rally and write more.

The story took a bit of an odd turn, and I found myself debating as to whether or not I should let my MC live. I asked two of the three people I'd sent the increments of my story to. Both liked Jenna, the MC, and were pulling for her. I still couldn't really decide. Then I hit and passed the 50,000 word mark. Looking at the paragraph I had, I realized that I could simply stop the story right where it was. It would make for the sort of ending I hate to read, but it is an ending nonetheless.

So shortly after 10 pm, I copied and pasted my work into the validator. It then announced that I had won!

45,000 Words!

2008-11-28T13:34:00.000-08:00

The current short term goal was to hit 45,000 words by bedtime Friday. Here it is, early Friday afternoon, and I just hit the 45K mark. Less than 5,000 words to go, and hopefully a lot less by the time I go to bed this evening....

40,000 Words!

2008-11-24T23:36:00.000-08:00

And now I'm slightly ahead of where I need to be. (Well, by all of 8 words.) Thanks to taking the day off and the prodding of the Write or Die website, I managed to have a 3,200 word day.

Chris Baty had challenged everyone to write 40K by bedtime Monday. I had my doubts on Thursday when he issued it that I would actually make it, and I was very doubtful on Sunday when I realized I would have to write over 3,000 words, which is a difficult feat for me.

But I did it! Shortly before 11:30, I hit 40,008 words. Yay me! Now to just either stay on track or ahead long enough to finish. Less than 10,000 words. I know I can do this...

35,000 words

2008-11-23T17:32:00.000-08:00

Made it this morning. Then I broke down and gave the write or die site a try. The song it's playing is quite annoying, but I think it does actually work, because I managed to hit 36,000 words, and the day's writing isn't over quite yet. So maybe the 40K by bedtime Monday isn't so out of reach after all. But we'll see....

30,000 Words

2008-11-20T17:56:00.000-08:00

I didn't make it by midnight, but I did make 30,000 by bedtime Wednesday. The next deadline is 40,000 by bedtime Monday. Good thing I already planned to take the day off.

Things are getting bad at my office. No more overtime for my department, but a lot of others are looking at 32 hour weeks. Ugh! I think this may be the impetus I need to start looking for another job.

Halfway there!

2008-11-16T23:30:00.000-08:00

Well, after a bit of a disappointing day yesterday, I went and helped out my hubby's disc golf team and worked on my novel. I transcribed what I'd written during the Shadowrun game (I really hate it when I can't do anything.) and then wrote another 1,700 words. Which brought me up to exactly 25,000.

I'm not really too far behind, and I expect I'll have more time to work on it, because I'm going to have to start taking longer lunches thanks to a newly established prohibition on working ANY overtime at all. I so need a new job. :(

20,000 Words

2008-11-13T23:37:00.000-08:00

Despite the temptation of Thursday night television (Survivor, CSI and ER) and a phone call from my mother, I still managed to make 20,000 words before bedtime, just as Chris Baty had suggested. I had my doubts that I'd make it, but I did. Yay me!

But sadly, I learned today that my company has asked that we not have any more overtime. We can only work 40 hours a week. This is not very cool, as I typically come in early because my husband and I carpool. I guess I'll have to start taking longer lunches.

15,000 Words

2008-11-11T20:06:00.000-08:00

Chris Baty (of Nanowrimo fame) issued a challenge to everyone. To make it to 15K by bedtime on Monday. I managed to make the target with 15 minutes to spare.

Today, his new challenge is to make 20K by Thursday night. I don't think I can, but I'm willing to give it a shot.

10,000 words

2008-11-08T23:40:00.000-08:00

With over 2,000 words written today. Not bad, considering that as I was getting ready to settle down to writing this morning, my sister-in-law called to invite us to join them on the Coast and have dinner together.

We knocked out some of our Christmas shopping, and had dinner at the Pig and Pancake. We all ordered breakfast, then headed to the casino. I spent an hour working on the novel, and had 1,900 words done once all was said and done. Driving home, I got another 400 words done, and then a less than productive hour between eleven and midnight.

Total words: 2,448

Not a record, but it definitely makes a dent in the deficit. :)

5,000 Words

2008-11-04T20:05:00.000-08:00

Election Day - One candidate (Obama) has been declared the winner, and I just hit the 5,000 word mark. Which means, I'm about a day behind on my word count. But what's new really?

The story is progressing slowly. I am anxious to see it pick up. :)

1,000 words

2008-11-01T21:43:00.000-07:00

Are written now, and it's only about 10 pm. 9 really, when you consider the time rollback. It's going a bit slow, but it does take a little while for things to pick up, and I'm not looking at my outline very much. I probably should, but I'm going to try flying by the seat of my pants for a little bit.

I must admit, I am getting pretty tired at this point. The airline trip was very long and I'm still trying to recover from it, I think...

November 1st

2008-11-01T09:21:00.000-07:00

Is also called All Saints Day, but it also marks the first day of Nanowrimo. So far, I haven't done too much, but we're going to head on a two hour trip to The Dalles later today, which should give me lots of uninterrupted writing time.

I still need to get my notes transferred from paper to computer, but I'm not going to worry about it quite yet.

After tea, a shower. Then packing my bag. Maybe after that, I'll get to work....

Walking in London

2008-10-29T01:51:00.000-07:00

That's what I was doing yesterday, and I woke up a bit stiff and sore from all the walking. I wish I'd had more time to spend there, but I got to see the Tower of London and the Globe, which is what I wanted, and the cruise on the Thames gave me a nice overview of the city. I even got a picture of Big Ben. Well, actually, I didn't, because Big Ben is actually the name of the bell INSIDE the clock tower and you can't actually go up there. :)

Taking pictures when the sun is starting to set is a bit tricky. I took a couple pictures of the clock because I wasn't sure I had a good look at it.

Three days to Nano. I'm not entirely ready. Two days to Halloween. I'm not sure I'm ready for that either, but I'll cope. My husband bought more candy while I was gone, and did get the grandkids' goodie bags delivered (though not quite correctly). Ah well, the only real difference was that the girls got hair ties, the boys got extra candy. :)

Well, off to Goring Street and a bit of trinket shopping. :)

Three Days and Counting

2008-10-20T22:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, my one bag is now packed and zipped up. My carry-on is nearly ready to go. Now there are only a few little things left to do.

My oldest cat, Sasha already suspects something's up. She's been spending a whole lot of time snuggling on our bed. Poor kitty. I hate leaving them.

I sent off my Nanowrimo care package today. It contained all the essentials: Candy, notepads, writing implements, various sorts of caffeine (tea, coffee, etc.), a CD, bath fizzies, and a toy "Plot Ninja" along with potential plot devices. Hopefully she'll like it. :)

Getting There

2008-10-15T22:54:00.000-07:00

I spent part of my break working on my Nano outline. Thankfully, the ideas were flowing. I also have my Nano care package made up and ready to be sent off to my 'partner' in Alabama. Part of my packing is done, along with some of the laundry I needed to do.

Even better, I only have my last two big properties left to turn in, so it's looking pretty good that I can wrap up the September stuff before I leave on vacation. I may even be able to start on October. :)

One week and counting....

It's Getting Closer!

2008-10-13T23:07:00.000-07:00

Today was fairly productive. I got the treat bags mostly made up for the grandkids (and my husband ate several packages of Smarties). All I need now is a bit more chocolate. I decided to go with plastic pumpkins that I bought at Big Lots last year. They're small, but awfully cute.

Also did a little packing for my trip. Not much, just makeup for right now. I still need a lot of the clothes I plan to wear, and I so need to do some laundry.

So, back to Nano. I decided to sign up for the Care Package exchange program. Shouldn't be too tough really, considering I can add some of the same stuff for the Halloween goody bags.
I should start working on my outline a little more. Perhaps tomorrow. :)

Progress

2008-10-11T00:20:00.001-07:00

I'd decided on the title a while back while looking at a Bicentennial quarter. It would be set in 2076, and be called Tricentennial. Problem was, I didn't have a clear direction for it.

Funny how things can change. In honor of the election year (I'm already sooo tired of the campaign ads), I've decided to put a little bit of a political spin on it. Of course, politics in 2070 aren't like politics in 2008.

My trip's less than 2 weeks away. I'm getting nervous now. I plan to start packing this weekend after my parents leave. I think I have all the things I need, it's just a matter of packing.

OMG!

2008-09-03T22:36:00.000-07:00

It's almost time for Nanowrimo again. Well, let's start with an update. I did met the 50,000 word goal before the end of November. Yay, me!

So now for an update on a few things:

1) Work sucks. Hard. I have to work with a very catty bunch of women and it feels like I'm back in high school again! While one frustration factor has left, they chose not to replace her, so now we have to work harder. Oh, and did I mention we now have to plan all our overtime a week ahead?

2) My son came back from his second tour of duty and is now attending Ranger School. I haven't heard from him since July. :(

3) I've been trying to lose weight. I've done this by making small changes such as drinking more water, exercising more and making better food choices, but not actually dieting. I've lost 16 pounds since February. And on Labor Day, I found that I can now wear the next smaller size quite comfortably. I'm also finding myself at a bit of a plateau, so I'm going to have to step things up a little, I think.

4) I've got a big, fun and scary adventure planned for the end of October. I'm going to take a trip to England to visit a good friend. I've only left the continental U.S. once (to go to Hawaii) and I've only left the country once (to go to Canada). This will be an interesting experience. And as an added bonus, I'll be out of the country during the later part of the election campaign, so I'll miss the commercials.

5) This month is my 7 year wedding anniversary. :)

Okay, so on to Nanowrimo. I did think of a title: Tricentennial. It would be set in the year 2076. I've got a little bit outlined. I'm also trying to outline Love, War and Fast Food, and we'll see. But then again, with the presidential race looming, perhaps a bit of a political fiction might be in order.

But there's still a bit of time until Nanowrimo. :)

Week 2 Recap

2007-11-18T21:22:00.001-08:00

Week two didn't go as well as I'd hoped. Thursday was good, but Friday we had to pick my husband's co-worker up from the hospital. Between picking up his prescription and taking him home, we didn't get to dinner until 7:30 and I wasn't able to start writing until around 9:00. Saturday wasn't much better. I went in to work in the morning, and took a trip downtown to the Bite of Zupan's, a free event where you get to sample all sorts of yummy stuff. The line was long, but it was really worth it.

However, it meant I didn't get home until 4:00, just in time to spend about an hour writing before I had to run off for my Shadowrun game. Between the two days, I wrote about 1,600 words total, which knocked me off track. On the other hand, I managed to stay on track for 9 whole days...

So now back to playing catch up.

The First Week

2007-11-07T19:59:00.000-08:00

As the first week of Nano draws to a close, here's a brief recap:

I started the month off by attending a midnight write-in and took the 1st off. That gave me a 2,000+ word day. The next day wasn't so hot.

Saturday, I had a 2,000+ word day, thanks to a trip to the Dalles (about an hour from our place). We spent the night because my husband was playing in a disc golf tournament the next day. Though my research showed there weren't any restaurants or coffee shops really close to the park, I chose not to have faith in the internet and believed it was simply a lack of information.

Turns out, the park is high up on a hill (and offers some really awesome views) in the middle of a residential zone. The internet told me of a tea parlor downtown, but of course, it wasn't open on Sunday. That left a Burgerville and a coffee shop. I didn't like the vibe of the coffee shop, and wasn't hungry enough to want to hang at the Burgerville, so I bought lunch and took it back to the park. Because I didn't have electricity to power the lap-top, I had to take a few breaks, and also took a short cat nap. Between spending the whole day at the park and driving home, I had a a record-breaking 3,000+ word day.

When the weekdays arrived, I of course haven't written nearly as much, but I've finished off the week with 1,000+ days, each a little better than the other. Even so, thanks to the momentum, I've actually managed to stay on track (and ahead of) the 1,667 word a day goal for the entire week! I am so very excited. This is the best start I've ever had for Nanowrimo.

Now the trick is to keep it up for Thursday and Friday...until the weekend arrives again.

However, we're going out to lunch Friday for a co-worker's birthday, my son is coming down from Fort Lewis (he's an Army Ranger) for the weekend, and I have a Shadowrun game Saturday night. Plus I need to go into work. Then of course, I'm having issues with my car again. I'm going to have the battery tested. Hopefully, that's all it is.

So on to the challenges of Week 2...

On the First Day of Nano...

2007-11-01T10:55:00.000-07:00

I began my first day of Nano in earnest at midnight, sharing my table with a first-time Nanoer who works as a cab driver. He'd bought an ancient laptop on Craigslist for $100 so he could write in his cab while waiting for fares. He left after about an hour, and I wished him good luck.

I left a half-hour later with over 716 words done, drove home and went to bed. Before my
husband left for work, he asked me to write 3,000 words and have dinner ready by the time he got home. 3,000 is more than I can typically write in a day, so I got him to agree to 2,000 and dinner ready.

When I woke up, I established that my goal was to shower, dress, do laundry and dishes and have the hamburger defrosting in the sink so I could start working by 12. I completed these goals by 10:30, which means I'm going to start at 11:00. My Rhapsody radio is fired up, and I'm ready to start....

So my husband calls at 4:45 to say that he wanted to stay on the West Side and play disc golf. It was a very nice fall day (pretty rare in these parts), so I said why not. It gave me more time to get dinner ready. Turns out I'd need it because we were out of spaghetti. But I'd already met my goal, and had over 2,000 words completed. :)

It is now about 9:30. I'm pretty tired, so I think I'll turn in as soon as ER is over.

I'm Gonna Wait Till the Midnight Hour

2007-10-31T23:44:00.000-07:00

So here I am, Halloween night, waiting for the stroke of midnight at a local coffee house with several other of my fellow Nanoers. I'm told that a pirate will announce when midnight arrives, and we can start novelling in earnest.

On the subject of Halloween, we had 43 trick-or-treaters tonight. Not too shabby, when you consider that we live on a horseshoe drive and we missed the trick or treaters of the five o'clock hour. Now, next year, Halloween will fall on a Friday. Am I going to attend a midnight write-in? Heck no. I hate sharing the road with drunk drivers.

Ten minutes and counting....

Halloween preparations and Nano news

2007-10-28T15:57:00.000-07:00

This weekend actually proved pretty productive, in spite of having to go in and work for four hours.

- At work, in the four hours, I turned in the last of my September P & Ls, got my property mailings done, and was able to box up some of my 2006 files, giving me more room to work with.

- On the halloween front: Bought the pumpkin and candy for the trick-or-treaters and got the last piece of my costume. The yard is now decorated and a lot of leaves raked and swept. Some of them even made it into the yard debris bin!. Decided I'm going to make Peanutty Halloween Cookie Pizza, which is a new twist on this recipe: http://www.pillsbury.com/recipes/ShowRecipe.aspx?rid=15308
It uses chocolate chip dough instead of sugar cookie, and halloween m&ms take the place of candy corn, and it also uses dry roasted peanuts. Today I also finished making a black cat necklace that I bought unassembled at Michaels. I'm currently working on the favors I'm going to give out to my co-workers. Two pencils, and a couple of pieces of candy, tied with orange ribbon. Sadly, it took me three tries to find it. Freddy's doesn't have gift ribbon in either orange or black! Big Lots came through, and most of their Halloween stuff was 50% off. Three are done, seven to go.

And that brings me to something that's very irritating. The stores already have their Christmas stuff out! Grr! Whatever happened to enjoying Halloween and Thanksgiving?

-Nano news: Last week, I took a page from Chris Baty's No Plot, No Problem and cleaned off my desk. One week later, it's still fairly clean. :) I had another idea for a novel. I'm not going to discuss it here, because whenever I've brought the topic up on the net, I wind up having technological issues. Only thing is, I can't see very far past the idea, which is typically not enough for a Nano. So that's on hold for a bit. I also attended the local Nanowrimo kickoff party for the first time ever. That was kind of fun, and we even got a little treat bag to take home with us. :) Portland's got a lot of people doing Nano, it seems, because there were at least 50 people in the US Bank meeting room.

I said I'm going to use dice as part of my novel, so allow me to introduce you to them. It's a Chessex 7 die polyhedral set, frosted teal with white numbers. http://www.chessex.com/Dice/Frosted/Teal.htm I won this set at one of Gamestorm's last GM raffles (they use a different method of giving away swag these days). Oh, yeah, Gamestorm is a local gaming convention. I've been attending it since its very early days. Since most of the games I play now involve the use of only one type of die (6-sided or 10-sided), this is actually the only polyhedral set I own. So why not put it to use for a gaming related novel?

Gotta run...I think I'm getting a cold, so it's off to take some Cold-Ez to ward it off. Zinc lozenges are icky, but they do work!

Going with the Flow

2007-10-19T23:24:00.000-07:00

This week, I made a fair amount of progress with my Nano novel. I came up with the title, as I'd previously mentioned. I plan to use some actual dice rolls as part of the story, so I'm going to pack a d20 with my laptop.

The characters are starting to flesh themselves out, and the outline is starting to take shape, though I'm not quite sure where to take the story yet.

Well, there's still some time to come up with it....

A Roll of the Dice

2007-10-15T22:01:00.000-07:00

So I have a title. The opening scene is actually inspired from a real-life event.

My husband and I went to have dinner around 9 pm and stopped at IHOP. We walked in the doors, and the restaurant was lit, but totally deserted. There was barely any noise from the kitchen and no one was around to greet us.

Finally, someone showed up to serve us and seat us.

So thanks to the Dare I took, I dug through my Yahoo account's Spam folder and came up with the names for my characters.

This year, I'm trying out a little bit of new technology, something called a Liquid Storybook Binder. It's supposed to help you organize a novel and also lets you write it. Though I've used Word and Notepad with the same result.

Dusting off the Cobwebs

2007-10-07T17:33:00.000-07:00

Wow, has it been almost a year already? And what a busy one it was, just as this one is now. I took a week's vacation in September, and I'm only just now getting caught up at work, just in time for all the month-end fun to begin.

So here it is, October again, and Nanowrimo looms just around the corner. At least I've decided on my costume for this year. It took a bit of doing, because finding a devil costume that is appropriate for an office is not the easiest task. Fortunately, Party City allows you to try on costumes. I was skeptical that an "Adult Standard" would fit, but it did, and as a bonus, the neckline has a drawstring that allows one to make it lower or higher.

The Nano site is currently as slow as molasses (can't imagine how bad it would be with dialup), but I'm hoping it'll improve. I did donate my $10 to keep the site going. I've taken a few dares, and finally, finally, things are starting to flow a little, and I think I have a story starting to take shape.

This year, I'm going to try to get a good start by attending a midnight write-in and taking the 1st day in November off. We shall see how well the strategy works...

Post Nanowrimo - Pre Holidaze

2006-12-03T21:39:00.000-08:00

Well, another November has come and gone. The first part of the month, I got pretty behind because I had to work four ten hour days because I got Monday October 30th off.

I endured setback after setback, but finally, on the 18th, I started writing like a fiend, and finally got caught up on November 29th. This despite the fact that I misplaced my outline (it was in my gaming bag) and didn't find it again until the 29th.

Therefore, I finished out the last day of November by writing the 50,000th word during the 10 o'clock hour. But I wanted to finish with an average of over 1,700 words before I verified. So prior to eleven, I verified my Nano with about 50,200 words, and called it a night. Phew, that was a really tough one.

The Battle Continues...

2006-11-14T23:05:00.000-08:00

This Sunday marked my first 2,000 plus word day. This in spite (or perhaps with the help of) a power failure around 10:30 pm.

However, I'm still a bit behind. Slowly, but surely, I continue to chip away at the deficit and am currently a little over a week behind now.

But hope springs eternal. The month is only half over...

Post Halloween - Nanowrimo is here!

2006-11-05T19:44:00.000-08:00

So, let's see,

The candy contest came down to a tie between myself and one other player for first. The owner threw us some tiebreaker questions, and it all came down to who came the closest (without going over) estimating how much she spent ordering from Oriental Trading (one of my fave places too). I won with $119.95.

I gave a good portion of the candy away in the grandkids Halloween bags, but there is still a little bit left.

Now, on to Nano. I was all set to do Love, Death and Fast Food. I really was. But once again, I had another idea. The outlining went along swimmingly, so that's what I decided to go with. Once again, Mara Ravenclaw makes another appearance, but this time, she's only a bit player.

Five days in, and I hit the 5,000 word mark. Not the most auspicious beginning, but hey, I'm not all that far behind, and I had to work long hours and had horrible commutes last week. This week, I get to carpool, so my word count should increase.

October! October! October!

2006-10-01T18:52:00.000-07:00

So, September draws to an end, which means I can now start my Halloween shopping and decorating! So I did just that, heading over to Dollar Tree for a few things.

I still have to dig out the Halloween stuff tonight. On a side note, I am tied for first in the Trivia contest I entered. So now it's all down to how well I interpreted her blog entries and whether or not I guessed right on her candy expenditures. We shall see...

So, at the end of September, I missed the monthly goal by scant inches. Doh!
This month, I'm starting out with over 210,000 words, and with a day of having already written over 1,100 words.

I've got a pretty good outline so far for the Nano, but then again, I thought I was doing good on the Julno too. We shall see how things go this year...

The 200K Mark and Assorted Things

2006-09-17T22:33:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it to the 200K Mark. Less than 50,000 words to go, which is one whole successful Nanowrimo.

This week was also my 5th wedding anniversary. Wow, has my husband been putting up with me for that long already? We decided to celebrate it for real next weekend, but went out to dinner and a movie on the day of. Dinner was a disaster, but my husband was a cheap date that night because they refunded my money for his meal (he'd ordered a steak well done, they delivered it quite late and very rare).

I also entered an on-line trivia contest. http://fabulouscheesebabe.blogspot.com/

It's a four week contest, with prizes going to the winners. My googling skills were spot-on, because I got 11 points out of a possible 11 after I pointed out to the gal that there was more than one flower that smelled like carrion and was pollinated by flies. Fortunately, I picked Stinking Corpse Lily, rather than my first thought, Corpse Flower, which is actually pollinated by beetles. Her original answer was Voodoo Lily.

This week was a bit tough, as one of the questions (a four star silent film) seems a little subjective. Four stars for one site could be ten for another, after all. But I took my best guess, so I hope it's right...

Getting Closer

2006-09-10T11:17:00.000-07:00

This was actually a pretty good week for me, as I had a couple of 1,000 word plus days, so I was able to regain some lost ground. Better yet, I'm less than 5,000 words to the 200K mark, so I should be able to make it this month, barring any unforseen things.

30 days has September, so my club goal for the month is 20,550, so I currently am about 15,000 words from it. Doesn't seem too impossible at this point...but time will tell.

On the PbEM front:

Sodium Noir - the ST is his spotty self, but at least he is posting more than once a week. We also have four new players. We shall see how long they stick around. Things are getting very interesting for my PCs though...

Mage Phoenix - Picking up, but it's still tough having to interact with a player that is very very slow to post.

Paradise Heights - A new game, modern soap opera style. Thought I had a posting partner, but she flaked. However, the GM was kind enough to oblige me. I just wish she had a list of locations, I would have renamed the bar...

Paradise Lost - Slow, but the ST put a new rule in place for posting. We shall see.

Puzzles of Darkness - Slow, and entirely the ST's fault.

Riverton - Picking up, and should be easier to post now.

Shadowrun - Steady, but slow.

On the Nano front - Funny, but I find that my creativity does run out once in a while, and I'm rather uninspired at the moment. But it is only September...

Labor Day Weekend

2006-09-04T17:56:00.000-07:00

And where exactly did the summer go? It seems like there's just never enough time to do everything you want to do. Heck, I play in a semi-monthly RPG, and had to miss a few games because I had conflicting plans (family events take precedence over games).

But in any case, August was a tough month for me. I didn't make my month's goal, but I'm still happy to report that I passed the 75% mark, and I'm less than 10,000 words away from hitting 200,000 words. However, I spent the first four days of September camping, so I wasn't able to do any writing. Boy, do I have lots of catching up to do this month already...

So, Halloween is fast approaching, and along with it Nanowrimo. So what am I going to do this year? Hmm...

I do still like the idea of Love, War and Fast Food. At least the title sounds pretty catchy. But on the other hand, a good serial killer story might be fun to write.

The Halfway Point

2006-06-03T11:30:00.000-07:00

Well, today, I finally reached the halfway mark of my year's goal, and only 3 days into June. Whoo hoo!!!

Yesterday, my coworker told me that making a tv show about the things that happen at hotels would be a good idea. I agreed, but said, probably should just write a novel instead, no hotel would want their name associated with the show when you focus on the drama. She said to let her know if I did start, I told her, oh maybe next month I'll start working on it.

The reason she said it was this: the GM (General Manager) for one of my properties called and asked me if we have credit card slips going back more than two years . I said, I believe so, but they're in the warehouse. She then tells me that a homicide detective had shown up at the hotel, investigating a murder, and asked for these records to establish that someone was there and not in Oregon. After making sure the homicide didn't occur AT the hotel (it didn't), I verified that the detective was trying to establish someone's alibi using the credit card receipts (seeing if he'd signed it). I then told her that Legal might have to get involved, but we'd be more than happy to track down the info if need be...

See what I mean about drama at hotels? I can't wait until July so I can start working on this....

Memorial Day Weekend

2006-05-29T00:01:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally hit the 120K mark this weekend! Finally, because things were getting just a bit sluggish, and my word count was starting to fall. I also finally finished the minimum for the month, and am about 1,000 words past it.

Went to see X3 this weekend. Looks like they left it open for another sequel. If you go, be sure to stay until the very very end (after the credits), because something interesting happens.

In Muse Grove, Challenge Week 6 is upon us, so I think I'll try again for 5,500 words, which is better than the 5,000 I went for last time. I'm currently at 2,600, with Monday still to go.

My goal for the week, and I'm crossing my fingers here, is to hit 125,000. I'm currently at 120,375.

May: Week #1

2006-05-07T23:07:00.000-07:00

So, the first week of the month of May has arrived, and my birthday arrives shortly after. My mother's is actually tomorrow, so I arranged to have flowers sent to her. I wanted to send her a plant, but they wouldn't deliver it on her birthday. Oh well...next year maybe.

At work this week, I heard about all the drama that was going on at one of our hotels. I told the GM that her place should be a soap opera, or maybe just a reality tv show. Seriously, it would be a good idea, but I doubt any hotel would go for this, especially not a small chain. It could be bad for their reputation.

So, in this case, truth is stranger than fiction, but it also can make for a good piece of fiction. With the summer being all about travelling and light hearted fiction, I've decided that my tales will be my project for Julnowrimo, and I'll think of something else for Nanowrimo. So, now to work on an outline...it'll be a good project to occupy my lunch hour.

In any case, the first week of May went pretty well. I met my goals for Challenge #4, and made my count for April as well. Though looking at my count, I wonder how I will make Nanowrimo. Well, I'm sure I'll manage. The road map seems to help me stay on track, and I can always use the weekends to catch up. I could take some time off from work in November. Unfortunately, I really don't have any vacation time to spare.

So, April summed up:

1st day wasn't so good, but I still met the minimum for the month.
The Conspirators have won 2 challenges in a row
I can't eat lunch at my desk (which means I can't type out my novel)

So, my goals for the moment are simple:

Week #5 5,000 words (I'm going for a lower goal cause I'll probably be real busy that week)

May's goal: 21,235 is the minimum; I'm going to make mine 25,000

So far, I'm at 6,945 words, a little shy of 1,000 per day.

Words remaining: Minimum: 14,290; Personal Goal: 18,055

With that said, time for bed....

April's Curtain Call

2006-04-30T13:29:00.000-07:00

As April draws to the close, I now pause to reflect upon how I did.

1) I finished the monthly goal, and surpassed last month's count. I'm hoping to break 29,000 before I submit my word count for the month. I'm fairly hopeful about it.

2) I'm currently at close to 39% completed for the year. Some of my fellow club members have upped their goal to 300K. I'm not sure I'm ready for that, but I would still be on target for 275K. Well, we'll see as things progress...

3) I'm the Team Leader for Week Four of the Muse Grove Challenge http://http://musegrove.suddenlaunch3.com/index.cgi#Teams
My goal for this one is 6,500. I have less than 5,000 words to write before Cinco de Mayo.

4) I've decided I'm going to either read or outline on my lunch breaks, because I can't use the computer at my desk (silly rules).

But May is the month of my birthday, and Memorial Day at the end of it, so I'm not sure how well I'll do next month, but I am currently slated to finish in early November. A pretty nice improvement , considering last month, it was the end of November.

I've also decided to do a prompt from Challenge Now for May. 5K words minimum. We'll see how that goes...

And of course, I still need an idea for July....

Post #3 for the Month

2006-04-23T12:38:00.001-07:00

Looking back through my logs, I've noticed that this post will be the third time I've posted this month. Maybe I can stay on track with weekly updates on Sunday, but I sort of doubt it...

On the good side, I have now met my goal for the month and am forging ahead. My new goal is to hit 90k by the end of the day, but so far, it's going slow. After about 4 hours or so of writing, I'm now about 200 words away. So many distractions sometimes. My kid asking for Google searches and downloads of things, and lots of IMs on various gaming related topics.

Well, in the end, though the words came slowly, I did hit the 90K mark today. Had a fair amount to reply to on the boards, and I started working on the club's second April writing prompt. I finished the first, and you can find it here. http://250k.blogspot.com/2006/04/april-prompt-detective.html

Well, my intro for the Shadowrun game won, but the Moderator edited it a whole bunch, even changing the ending to be a bit less dark.

A Third of the Way!

2006-04-16T20:09:00.000-07:00

So, today I hit the 1/3 mark! Not too bad, considering April is only a little more than halfway through. I've also got about 15,000 words done for this month, which means I'm less than 5K away from the month's goal.

In addition, I signed up for Julnowrimo, July's novel writing month. Might be a tough thing to accomplish, considering I have a wedding to attend the first part of the month. But we'll see.

On the PbEM Front:

Sodium is up and going, though the ST's posts are but a trickle. At least he's posting. A lot of the other players are too.

MP is terribly slow, but there is some activity now that FF is back.

Riverton is going in fits and spurts, same with PoD. But I sympathize with PoD's ST. It's not easy looking for work, and his quest may be over soon. (Crossing fingers for him)

Portland Shadows - Not looking too good. I did my part and got my character done though.

First Cabal - ST has been too busy to post, but is looking to start again.

Shadowrun - Both characters are in campaigns, plus a little side stuff. I also submitted the story by the deadline. Turns out only one other person did. Last time I checked the polls, the story was winning by a handy margin.

Writing Prompts: The club has two this month, I'm working on one. I'll post it here when it's done, because it will be long. Also trying to work hard on this week's Muse Grove challenge. Our team won handily last week, so it would be nice if we won again.

April Optimism?

2006-04-09T13:40:00.000-07:00

Well, unfortunately, I wasn't able to complete my March Madness goal of 31,000 words. Gamestorm was just too much fun, so I wasn't able to get any writing done that weekend. I did, however, exceed the monthly goal, so it wasn't all bad.

So now comes April. The monthly goal is a little smaller at 20,550. At this writing, I'm closing in on the 30% completion mark as well as 7,000 words, so I'm a bit over 13,000 words from making the goal for the month.

Alas, though, the words are flowing a bit slowly. On the very bright side, Sodium Noir is back up and running again! Yay! As I've said before, the trouble with PBEM games is that they experience lulls from time to time, especially on the weekends.

So, my hope is to try to hit the 30% mark tonight. Guess I'll have to try to come up with something original.

And then there's still the quandry of Julowrimo and Nanowrimo. I need to come up with something. Maybe July would be a good time to do a Shadowrun piece and put it up on the Proboards website. I may know enough about the setting by then...I hope.

Weekend Slowdown

2006-03-11T16:03:00.000-08:00

I always hate PbEM games on the weekends. People don't post, though you would think that they would have MORE time to post, not less.

In any case, this hasn't been the best of weeks for writing. While I only missed the 700 word goal once, I've missed the 1,000 word goal twice, and after about 4 hours of writing today, I am finally back on track for making the 31,000 word goal for March.

So, let's start with the setbacks: I went to a lunch to meet the GMs, and had to run a lunchtime errand on Friday, so I lost a couple of lunch breaks of writing. In addition, I had one PbEM game abruptly end (again), but there's always the UGR (Universal Game Room) A couple of the others are slowing down too. Doh!

The ST of Sodium hasn't posted again, but others are posting in hopes that maybe it will get going again. I sure hope so.

On the Successes:

I have taken on the club Writing Prompt and am making some good headway with it. It's keeping my word count afloat, really. I also suggested a bonus St. Patty's day prompt, and that has yet to be released, but I have an idea where I want to go with mine.

I also hit 50,000 words two days ago! This also puts me at the 20% completed mark. I think I'd like to hit the 25% mark before the end of next week, but we shall see how things go

I didn't have to work this weekend. Yay! But I will need to next week.

So, 11,000 words down, less than 20,000 to go. HOWEVER, Gamestorm (the local gaming Convention) is just around the corner at the end of the month. That means that weekend I probably won't be spending much time writing at all. Ah well, such is life sometimes. I will still have about a week to make up the lost days and several days previous to try to get a bit ahead...

March Madness

2006-03-04T23:00:00.000-08:00

Well, the new challenge for NanoWriYe is March Madness. Write 1,000 words a day for the entire month of March!

So far for the first week, I only missed the mark one day. I may make the goal of 31,000 yet.

So, I think I've pretty much got the Shadowrun entry done, I just want to add some hyperlinks to the text to point people in the right direction.

I'm also Employee of the Month for March! Doesn't really make up for a really tough February though.

Crossing my fingers that Sodium is going to be back up and running sooner. Others are posting in anticipation of it though, including me.

So, about 7,000 words down, 24,000 to go....

Done for February!

2006-02-27T23:06:00.000-08:00

Well, two days before the end of February, and I managed to not only meet but also exceed my goal for the month! Not only that, but I'm now ahead...but only slightly for the year.

On the PbEM front:

1) Sodium may return soon, and it's been agreed that the timeline is being moved up to Saturday, with Friday being a 'free post day' where we can post whatever we like. So far, I've posted the last part of my main character's Thursdaynight and am working on Friday. There is still much to be resolved for the second character, and the NPCs, I have the post mostly written, just waiting on the ST.

2) Mage Phoenix is getting back on track a bit. I was able to post today after I figured out a way out of the corner I'd painted myself in.

3) Puzzles of Darkness, I had a chat with the ST, and got a nice post in that put me over the top for the month. A newscene is planned, but yet to be written.

4) Riverton, a bit of a slow down, but things are picking up a bit now that the ST is posting again.
5) Shadowrun, I had to have a planning session for my first character, because she's currently been framed for murder. Doh. I also made a second character though, and so far so good.

6) First Cabal, The character's been approved, and the mission is starting to get going. She's going to be part of the paranormal investigation crew.

7) Hidden Cove, SLOW and discouraging. Sigh.

The Write a Story came to a screeching halt. I started a new Writing Prompt today.
Really should start thinking toward this year's Nano...or should I do JulNoWriMo too?
Also, the Shadowrun Boards have a story contest going. I'm going to give it a go...

Nanowriye: Catching Up

2006-02-05T22:16:00.000-08:00

Well, five days into February, and things are looking up a little. I managed to write over 1,100 words today, which has bumped my average word count up enough to put me into finishing in late January, 2007 instead of mid February 2007.

So, the writing goal for the month is 19,208, and I've already written 4,253, so I've got about 15,000 words to go, and there's still a lot of days in February to do it...

On the PbEM front:

1) Sodium may return in March, but we can write posts in preparation for it, as soon as it's decided how far the timeline's moving up.

2) Mage Phoenix is slowing down a little, but posts are still being written (over 100 last month)

3) Puzzles of Darkness has lots of great plans for my character, but I can't post until other things are resolved

4) Riverton, I'm waiting for a reply from the ST. Such is life in PbEMs

5) Shadowrun, I had one 'run' end abruptly and got started on another. We're just able to start IC posts now.

6) First Cabal, I think the ST is finally happy with my character, so I should be able to start posting soon.

7) Hidden Cove, I had to ditch my first character and start a new one. Haven't heard back from the STs because they've been out sick.

So for now, I'll do the Write a Story and Writing Prompts. I suppose I should start thinking towards this year's Nano...

NaNoWriYe: Month 1

2006-01-31T23:27:00.000-08:00

Well, in 2006, I decided I was going to try my hand at National Novel Writing Year.

I joined the 250K club, which means I have to write 250,000 words in a year. Since PbEM posts count towards it (you are writing a story), I didn't think it would be too hard.

I was wrong. PbEM games have a habit of slowing down sometimes, especially on the weekends when people aren't around. I decided to sign up for a couple more, and have worked on characters for them, but haven't gotten the go ahead from the STs yet. Maybe I'll give up on one of them. The STs are a bit TOO controlling for my taste.

I also had more than a few days where I didn't make the goal. Ah well, things happen. Of course, I also spent the first half of the month frantically editing my Nano Novel so I could have it done in time to make the Lulu publishing deadline.

So then I started frequenting the boards and participating in the Writing Prompts and Write a Story threads. My word count started to increase a bit, so while I didn't make the goal for the month, I did manage to pull it up a bit, so I finished close to 19,000.

February's a short month, so the goal for the month is 19,208. I wasn't really all that far from it, so maybe, just maybe, I can make it.

Phew! I made it!

2005-11-30T23:33:00.000-08:00

Well, NaNoWriMo 2005 is over, and I won!

Even better, I improved over last year:

1) I hit the 50K 2 days before the deadline

2) I finished the novel ONE word short of my goal of 55K (as opposed to about 1K)

3) I validated the novel before Midnight Eastern time.

It wasn't without its tribulations. The Forum for a while insisted that November had ended at 9:00 Pacific, but they fixed it fairly quickly.

Day 27 was a Good Day

2005-11-28T12:00:00.000-08:00

I managed to hit 48K this evening, which now puts me less than 2,000 words to my first goal. Now, making the second goal of 55,000, that seems a bit harder, but we shall see...

I'm also not that far from the end of the novel, so I may actually hit the 50K before I run out of novel this year.

Time to call it a night.

Survived Thanksgiving

2005-11-27T20:04:00.000-08:00

Well, I managed to survive another Thanksgiving with my family, but just barely. At least this year, I had a laptop. I set a modest goal while traveling to write a minimum of 1,000 words a day. I carved out small pieces of time, with one long session at the end of the evening, and managed to write no less than 1,800 words a day.

It's funny how motivating the Spreadsheet really is. You can see your progress and think "oh, I just need to type a few more words to hit 1,800" or "Oh, only 15 words and I'll be at 45,000."

It's a little late to start using it this year, but I'll definitely be using it next year. I just hope my hard drive doesn't crash... I just spent a few hours reinstalling a bunch of things on my computer, but the 160 GB drive still has more than 90% free space. Wow!

So anyways, did I mention I gave up on trying for 60K? Well, I'm still going to make a run for 55,000, or at least do more than the 50,014 I did last year. I also decided to change the title of my novel to Blood and Asphalt, which sounds a bit better.

So with that said, I'm at 47K and trying to make 48 tonight....

Nano: The Third Week

2005-11-19T00:05:00.000-08:00

Well, I actually attended my first Nano Write-In tonight. The Regional Liason was there, but she left early because she wasn't feeling well. While I was there, I set a goal of spending an hour and a half there, and managed to hit 31K while I was there. The Regional also was handing out presents. She gave me a choice of replica sandals, marbles, or balls. I chose balls because my MC has to have them to be able to deal with vampires all the time. Well, that and he is a guy (where I'm not). I find myself often typing She in relation to the main character, so I guess that means I'm not used to having a male MC)

I also had my computer's hard drive crash this week, but fortunately, the novel is on a portable drive and backed up on a laptop, so it wasn't lost....phew! Another thing I learned: OT and Nano don't mix very well. But by working late, I managed to get out of having to work this weekend, which would have sucked.

But now I can't compare last year's numbers to this year's. Doh.

So...back to novelling.....

Nano: The First Week

2005-11-07T19:32:00.000-08:00

Well, I survived the first week of Nanowrimo with most of my sanity still intact. The laptop is definitely helping, as my word counts are up. Here are the current numbers:
2004 2005
11/1 1,136 1,136 1,747 1,747
11/2 2,301 1,165 3,504 1,757
11/3 3,482 1,181 4,806 1,302
11/4 4,714 1,232 6,508 1,702
11/5 6,085 1,371 8,879 2,371
11/6 8,126 2,041 11,634 2,755
11/7 10,137 2,011 13,459 1,825

I will admit, I have spent significantly MORE hours working on it, but heck, I was happy just to hit the 10K Minimum very very early Sunday evening. (And currently, the 10,000th word is accept.) On to 20K!

And for those of you wanting to see the novel in progress, please email me a request for it. I may actually try to get this one published, and if I publish it here, I'm giving away my first publication rights.....

2005-10-31T19:52:00.000-08:00

Well, I won scariest costume at work today. Then again, I was the only one that really went for scary.

Not bad, considering I only paid about two dollars for the Victorian Vampire costume when I bought it used at a thrift store. I did have to fix a couple of split seams, though.

So, I did come up with a working title for my Nanonovel.

Red Asphalt Memories

*Shrug* I may change it later.

A Bit More Progress

2005-10-22T12:42:00.000-07:00

Well, November 1 approaches, and I still don't have a title. Of course, I came up with last year's on Halloween.

I did have someone suggest a random title generator site, http://wordsmiths.net/Maygra/RTG.htm and gave that a whirl. Did find a few of interest:

Frozen Souls
Fallen Destiny
Eyes in the Shadow
The Tears of the Servant
Falling Shadow
Tales in the Voyages
Man in the Darkness
Memory in the Silk

But then again, perhaps Asphalt Memories would be a good working title.
After all, it is several interconnected stories. Or Man in the Darkness, but it doesn't fit quite so well.

So, I'm going to try to do ten Dares this year, but the crop isn't so promising, unfortunately. Too comic, when I'm going for serious. These are the eight I have so far:

-"Everything was good. Everything was going perfectly fine with no problems in sight. I was feeling fucked anyway."

A vampire doctor.

First, go to findcliches.com (or equivalent site) find a cliche and turn it on its head. I did that last year, with a minor charactor described as "having a face even a mother could hate."

Second, at that same site, there's lists of common-sense advice for Evil Overlords, Heros, Sidekicks and so on. Take an item from one of those lists and set things up so that the character has to do the opposite, or cliche'd action.

A walk-on gets hit by a speeding bus, gets up, dusts themselves off, and walks away. Bonus points if only the MC sees it.

--"The only thing they had there was snow. Lots of snow. Even snow on Halloween. And kindergarten until four o'clock. And busses with kids from all grades. It was scary.

"I dare you to have a char who continually calls your MC by the wrong name.Bonus points if the wrong name is Dave.Extra bonus points if the char continues calling your MC the wrong name even if everyone else gets it right.Mega bonus points if they have a conversation with your MC in which the MC explains patiently what his real name is... and they still use the wrong name.

*Include a bar named the Pit of Depravity.

I also adopted a vampire character, who is actually someone else's PC.

October 1st!

2005-10-01T17:14:00.000-07:00

The die is now cast. I logged in with my Nanowrimo account and signed up for this year's contest.

Now, to consider this year's entry. I went and outlined the three, and for the most part they flowed pretty well (though I had to cheat on number three and pull up a copy of Romeo and & Juliet on the net)

However, someone suggested that I combine the three. I can't really merge the three (unless I set it in the future, even then, it could be a bit of a challenge.) However, combining the two is definitely doable, though the other story will be merely a much smaller portion of the other.

So for now, I'm going to go with the trucking firm. It's still in the genre, but at a very different slant. It will be more of a series of shorter stories, with a unifying thread, much like the Illustrated Man (I always did love Ray Bradbury)

Who knows, maybe I might try to get it published.....

Now for a title....

Not Long Now....

2005-09-25T15:01:00.000-07:00

October 1st approaches, and at that time, I can sign up for my second attempt at Nanowrimo.

However, I'm still at a quandry as to what to cover. The Tremere one seems to flow well, and with the Romeo and Juliet plot template, the Fast Food one may come together as well. The Vampire trucking firm, it still has its merits. I think I will eliminate the Mage one out of hand, so now we're down to only three. But which of the three? I suppose attempting to outline them may prove revealing...

Process of Elimination

2005-09-01T23:36:00.000-07:00

So an informal and unscientific poll (three people responding) got me the
following:
Roll a die (I do actually have a 4 sider somewhere) as they all sounded good
Love, War and Fast Food
Go with the Vampire, but make it non WOD Canon.

So, I've been playing the main character of Cards of Change for over a year in the PbEM (Play by Email) game Sodium Noir. While it may be coming to an end, I'm not sure if I want to take the Mara/Christine story any further. So I think I'll eliminate that one.

I also am not real keen on the commuting idea (though I have a few funny stories), and don't think it really is good novel material, so that's out.

Which leaves three.

The Vampire story is not without merit. I won with it last time, so why not? And if this is my choice, an extra 10K should be added to the goal.

The Jade story could be interesting. I never really explored it much.

I do like the idea of Love, War and Fast Food, and maybe my limited Shadowrun experience can come to play in this. Been a while since I've read any sci-fi, but as I recall, I have a Star Wars novel sitting in my bookshelf waiting for me. I actually thought of this while at a food court, watching a young couple having lunch together. One worked for Panda Express, and the other worked for a Japanese place. Or something like that, I don't exactly remember anymore.

Maybe I should ask the Nanoers...

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

2005-09-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

Decisions, decisions
So, the start of this year's Nanowrimo http://www.nanowrimo.org/
is a couple months away, and I'm still facing a bit of a quandry as to
what to write. But at least the creative spark is there. It could be
because the RP's starting to run dry. The ST of Sodium Noir's going quiet, the Blackrose game got derailed by illness and relocation, and while there's the game of last resort (Dark Shadows), it's just not that fun when the few players that stay on late aren't really very good rpers. Worse yet, the LARP I'm in is coming to an end. One bright note, I may have more players for my OWN Tabletop game.

So a few of the things I'm kicking around for my entry this year:

1) Bringing back the title character of Cards of Change (though where to
take it, I'm not sure)

2) Rework an old story of mine about my oldest character, Vampire character, a Tremere. This is legal, I'm told, and I could revamp it with shifting viewpoints. this time writing it from third person, or a shifting viewpoint (third and first) I can see that working, actually. Then I'd just need a title...

3) Stay in the World of Darkness genre and write up a background for my 2nd oldest Mage character. A dark tale involving death, love and magick and vampires. Problem there is where to really begin. Her backstoryhas always been rather vague. Should I start when she leaves home, or whenshe gets to San Fran? That's what makes it a challenge, I guess.

4) Shift away from it entirely and go in a different direction. Like "Love, War and Fast Food". It would be a tale of two people working for opposing fast food chains, set in the future so that it really could have a tragic turn. So, I've got time to decide.

4a) Get off the Vampire tangent and instead go for something...different.
Like a series of vignettes about my commute. (Thank god I carpool)
That's too depressing.

4b)Or maybe "Love, War and Fast Food." A Romeo and Juliet like tale of two fast food workers (with a sci-fi sort of twist so that it really could be a tragic tale.) Hmm...it's not without possibility either.

5) The one my husband suggested to me last year on one of our many road trips. A tale of a trucker that works transporting the undead across the country and the perils it can bring. I think I have the first part, but it's getting the rest...

In any case, we bought a laptop this year, so I plan to use it. Maybe I'll even attend a couple of meetings, because I can now type the work directly instead of writing them once and typing later. Should also come in real handy during Turkey time, when I had to write stuff by hand and transcribe it when I got home, causing me a lot of extra work that I could have spent writing.

Now, since I won last year, I could certainly consider the additional
challenge of adding another 10,000 words to the goal, or meeting halfway
and going 5,000. Well, I've got a couple months to decide...

Chapter Sixteen

2004-12-18T18:42:00.000-08:00

Chapter Sixteen
A Vampire’s Story

This night was rather like many others. After a while, the nights blend into one long blur of hunting, feeding, and surviving.

But this night was also different. Today would have been my thirty-third birthday. I say would have been, because I can no longer count myself among those still living. Should I even consider today my birthday anymore? Or rather, should I instead count my deathdays, the years that have passed since I was Embraced and dragged forcibly into the world of the Kindred. It was my world now. I had tried to make the best of a bad situation, and I think that I have finally succeeded.

But even though I am now dead, I still cling to the rituals I held when I was alive. I had arrived at Washington Memorial Cemetery about an hour after the sun had set. This time, I carried two dozen roses, a pair of bouquets wrapped separately in clear cellophane; one dozen pink and a dozen red. The pink were for my grandmother, and the red for my mom. Greywolf and I had argued bitterly over this matter. He insisted that a Kindred should not follow a routine, as it made one too easy to track down. But I would not be deterred from my position, and at last he had relented, but insisted on driving me to the cemetery.

When we stopped, I looked at my mentor. “Can I go alone?” I ask. I felt I needed his blessing to do this small task. How odd, considering that two years ago, I answered to no one save myself, and I had no one.

“You may, but I will be watching you, Childe. It is the Prince’s request that you be watched at all times.”

Watched at all times. I’d happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now I had to be watched. There had been a robbery at a jewelry store while I was walking in, and I’d helped apprehend the suspect. The Prince was not happy, as it brought a bit too much attention. Luckily, I hadn’t broken the Masquerade in order to catch the guy, which was the only reason I was still alive.

Sticking to my old habits, I first go to where my grandmother is buried. Life had been unkind to her. Her husband and only child had been taken from her, and for a time, I had been too, because my father refused to allow her to see or even speak to me, her only grandchild. But after my father’s death, she had been my only living relative and a far better alternative to a foster home, so I had gone to live with her.

Aware that I was being watched, I kneel by the gravesite. It was very tidy this time, and judging by the look and smell of the surrounding grass, I could tell that it had been recently trimmed. The metal urn was empty, of course. After all, it had been a couple years since I had last visited, and the roses I had brought then were long dead. I hadn’t visited her last year. Not because the occasion had slipped my mind, but because I hadn’t been allowed to even leave the boundaries of the city. It was a sort of probation period set down by the Prince for the most recent addition to the Camarilla Court of Seattle. So today, I brought my gran a dozen roses to atone for my absence last year.

Again, I knew that I was being watched, so instead of speaking to the grave like I might normally do, I commune with her in silence, not even allowing my lips to move and betray my thoughts and emotions. I trace the letters on the headstone in silent contemplation. >>Hello again, Gran.<<>>I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit last year, but I wasn’t allowed to leave the city limits, not even to visit you.<<

I put the pink roses in the metal urn and continue the meditation. >>I wish I could say things are going okay this year, but they’re really not. You see, today isn’t really my birthday anymore. Though I still walk the earth, I am no longer alive, but rather one of the undead. It wasn’t something I wanted, but I guess you can’t always choose your own fate. I’ve had to do a lot of bad things, gran, but I hope you can forgive me, as it was what I had to do in order to simply survive.<< I wipe a tear from my eye. I look down and see watery red liquid on my hands. Ah yes, Greywolf had warned me about that before. Our kind cries tears of blood rather than water.

I get up. If I stayed any longer, I would start really crying. And the last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of Greywolf. He would not tolerate such a show of weakness. I pause a moment and look up at the moon, focusing my eyes upward in order to stop the flow of tears before it became too overwhelming. The moon was only a small sliver of brightness tonight, but at least there were no clouds to obscure my view of it.
Though the path was not well lit, I had no trouble traveling toward the Rothchild family crypt. In addition to the ability to see in dim light that was a Kindred’s gift, I had long ago memorized the way to the crypt, and even though I hadn’t visited in two years, my memory still served me well as I found my way to the brick path.

In the dim light, I was not able to read the names printed on the bricks. Instead, I kept my eyes on the surrounding hills and landmarks, and kept a careful count of the number of steps I took along the path.

After traveling some distance, I finally can discern the ornate embellishments on my family crypt. I look around, and it seems to have gotten a bit darker. If Greywolf had followed me, which he probably had, I could no longer locate his position. But I knew he was still watching. He had to be. I look over my shoulder, and I see a headstone across the way. Suddenly, I am struck by a flash of memory. I am drawn back to a scene five years ago. Another birthday, another visit to the cemetery. I remember seeing a man in a black coat with cold, dead eyes that had been standing by that headstone. And like a bolt of lightning, I match the eyes to the man. It had been Greywolf watching me that day, five years ago. He had watched me talking to my dead parents, watched me place the card and the flowers. Was that the impetus for Malik’s investigation? Or was it the arrest of Raymond Bates, like Greywolf had claimed? I had to know the answer. And I might just know how to get it. I take out my cell phone and call Malik at Night Owl Investigations. I only hoped that he would be willing to take my call.

The phone rings several times. Finally, the answering machine picks up. It was a recording of Malik’s voice, doing a barely recognizable impression of Humphrey Bogart. “You’ve reached the office of Night Owl Investigations. Leave a message, and we’ll get back to ya.”

Don’t quit your night job. I think as I wait for the beep. I hear a low beep. I lower my voice, hoping that Greywolf wouldn’t hear. “Malik. This is Raven. I need to ask you something. Call me back when you can. Or talk to me at the next Conclave. Thanks.” I hang up.

Now back to what I was doing. I walk to the marble crypt that housed what used to be my mortal family, and where my own body, alive or dead, would never rest. I scan the bronze plaques of my ancestors again, and trace the letters on my mother’s plaque, but I feel no connection, no sorrow like I had so many times before. This will be the very last time I would visit my parents’ graves. There was no reason for me to return again. I place the red roses on the ground below my mother’s plaque. “Goodbye mother.” I whisper softly.

Time to deal with my father’s ghost one final time. I sit down in front of the plaque bearing my father’s name. “Good evening, father.” I offer quietly. I look around the cemetery, but it seemed that I was alone. Even so, I kept my tone low and quiet. “I came back to see you and mom, but I can’t stay too long.” I look around a second time. Out here, in this metropolis of the truly dead, I felt rather vulnerable. I take a business card from a pocket of my black leather jacket. “So, I guess you got what you were hoping for. I quit my job at the O.P.D.” I look at the card. In the shadows of the crypt, I couldn’t make out what it said, but that was all right. I already knew what was written on it. Legal Services of Seattle. A non-profit law firm in service to the community. Mara Ravenclaw, Attorney

“I had to change my plans.” I explained, trying to phrase my words carefully. You never really knew who might be watching. “I decided to join the private sector and open my own practice. It’s a non-profit law firm. I call it Legal Services of Seattle. I’m not planning on specializing in anything, but I plan to dedicate a large portion of my time to housing and tenant law. I now have a chance to help some of the people that you and your friends hurt. A way to somehow repay some of the blood money that created the Rothchild fortunes.” I take the card and find a small crack in the door of the crypt. “So this is goodbye. I will not return to this place again.” I feel it leave my hands and even though I cannot see it, I swear I can hear the card falling through the air. Was it my imagination? Or heightened Kindred senses at work?
I get up. I turn my back on my parent’s final resting place and start walking back up the path to the parking lot, back to Greywolf’s van. The Office of the Public Defender may have been my life’s work, but I intended to make Legal Services of Seattle my unlife’s work. Hopefully, in time, the firm would grow, striking fear into the heart of Seattle corporations and slumlords alike. And as a vampire, time was a luxury I did have…

Chapter Fifteen

2004-12-14T22:13:00.000-08:00

Chapter Fifteen
Questions, Questions

The night began like many other nights. I worked at my grant applications while Greywolf practiced his martial arts. Then Greywolf stopped, his rhythm broken. I stopped typing. "What's wrong?" I ask. But I was overcome with a strange urge. To go somewhere. It was the call of the Summoning. I knew it well enough, as Greywolf had done it to me on those rare times when we were apart. I look at Greywolf. "You too?" I ask.

Greywolf nods. "Come, Childe. Get in the van. The Prince, it seems, demands our presence."

I put on my leather jacket and get in the van. "How do you know it's the Prince's doing?" I ask.

As Greywolf starts to drive, he at first does not answer my question. "The place he calls us to is a car rental agency, which he personally owns. Secondly, there are only three Clans among the Kindred who possess the talents of Presence: the Brujah, the Toreador, and finally the Ventrue. And of those three Clans, there are still few in the city with such mastery over Presence. The Prince is one of them. And I cannot imagine why any of the others would bother to use such a crude method when they could simply call."

Greywolf, as usual, was more than likely right. The Prince, it seemed, did not like either one of us. Perhaps it was because we were Brujah. Perhaps it was something else entirely. I look out the windows, wondering what the Prince wanted with us this time. Conclave, if I recall wasn't for a couple more weeks.

We pull into the lot for Enterprise Rent a Car. Ironic, really, that the Prince owned an Enterprise franchise. Enterprise. The word simply screamed Ventrue. I wonder if the Ventrue owned all the franchises. Wouldn't surprise me a bit really. The more I ventured into this dark and shadowy realm, the more I realized how much influence Kindred really had upon the mortal world.

We get out of the van and start walking toward the office. The lights were off, but that's where the Summoning was calling us. Greywolf opens the door. What a surprise, it wasn't locked after all. "After you, my dear." He holds the door open. Ever the courteous one, it seemed. I stroll into the door and look around. I take note of the nearest exits. There was one other door leading outside, and that was a bit to one side and a good ten feet away. I wait for Greywolf, and we continue farther into the building, heading for the door marked "For Employees Only." There was light underneath that door. Finally, a sign of life.

Greywolf once again opens the door and escorts me through. There were a few times when I wished that he wouldn't do that. I guess old habits died hard. We continue through the small corridor that served as the hallway, passing a number of doors that were both closed and led only to darkness. The door we wanted was straight ahead. And to no surprise, it was the manager's office.

This time, I open the door. "You're still going first, Childe." Greywolf told me. I roll my eyes and walk into the room. The Prince was there of course, his feet up on the manager's desk. I didn't like it one bit. Why summon us here and not to the normal gathering place? Something was up, and it probably wasn't good. The Prince wasn't alone either. In addition to the Nosferatu Malik, who Greywolf had pointed out to me the last time I met the Prince, there was Brazil, still wearing his mirrored sunglasses and black leather trench coat over still more black clothing, and two burly looking guys that definitely fell into the goon/ghoul category. I scan the room for weapons and cover. There wasn't a lot of cover, but there were a number of objects within easy reach that could serve as weapons if needed.

I bow to the Prince, in a show of respect. Greywolf also follows suit. "You rang?" I ask.

The Prince does not seem amused by my small joke. Maybe I shouldn't have called him on his use of Gift. Then again, did he expect slavish obedience from a Brujah? If so, he was the fool.
"I have brought you here because I expect you to answer some questions, and it is far more easily done in a borrowed location such as this rather than in the deepest recesses of my own inner sanctum, especially since there is still a chance, however remote, that both of you might leave this place alive."

Now that was something I definitely didn't want to hear. I look to either side to see that the ghoul goons had taken up positions behind us. So much for leaving through the door. "Ask your questions, then your majesty." Greywolf replies, clearly as annoyed as I was at this latest development.

The Prince studies his well-manicured fingernails for a moment. He was obviously stalling. Was he trying to piss us off? If he was, it was starting to work. He looks up at us. "Mister Malik here has brought something rather interesting to my attention." He looks at the Nosferatu for a short moment and then back at us.

"And that might be?" Greywolf puts his hands on his hips. Clearly, he was getting tired of this game. So was I.

"It seems Greywolf, that three years ago, you engaged the services of Mister Malik to investigate the background of one Mara Ravenclaw, a woman who now just happens to be your adopted childe, Raven. Coincidence? I think not. I think it was your plan to embrace her all along."

I turn and look at Greywolf. Had he planned my embrace all along? No, I couldn't accept that. I wanted to hear what he had to say. No, I needed to hear what he had to say.

"Your majesty, you are quite mistaken. The Warlocks' blood magicks do not lie. Her Sire has already been proven to be Anne Bonnie, who chose to abandon Seattle as well as her fledgling. I do freely admit, I asked Malik to look into the woman's background. One of Luna's ghouls had gotten arrested, and she asked me to make sure that he would be properly represented in court. There aren't a lot of Public Defenders in King County that give a rat's ass about their clients. Mara is...was one of the few exceptions."

"I thought you were an instructor in Criminal Law, Raven. Or should I say, Ms. Ravenclaw?"

"I did guest lectures, actually. And the occasional career fair. The Office of the Public Defender is almost always looking for new blood, so to speak."

The Prince smiles at my remark. "Of all the attorneys, they are the most overworked and underpaid." He tells me. Of course, I already knew that. "They can also be the most dedicated to their cause, which is perhaps why an elder Brujah might choose you. So then, Raven, why don't you tell me exactly how your Embrace happened. I really want to know."

I think my life depended upon my story. I pause to gather my thoughts, and begin. "It started out as a pretty normal day. Me and my co-workers decided to go out for drinks at the Black Cock. It's a bar just a few blocks walk from the office."

The Prince nods attentively. So far so good. I continue the story. "So I was sitting with my co-workers having a couple of drinks when this drunk guy comes up to me. He asks me for a date, but I tell him no. He doesn't like my answer, and he makes a nasty comment and tries to grab me. I deck the guy, knock him flat on his ass. The guy is a regular and a total jerk, so all the gals start applauding and he slinks out like a dog.

Prince Marcel raises a hand to stop me. "Did you call the police?"

"I did call them, but they didn't want to take the report because he'd already left the scene and I didn't know his name." I shake my head. It was sad indeed when the cops couldn't be bothered to take a report of a crime.

"What happened next?" The voice is not the Prince's, but rather the raspy voice of the Nosferatu Malik.

I look at the hideous Nosferatu. Even though he wore a fedora covering his head, I could still see the Kindred's greenish skin and deformed countenance. "Against better judgment, I walked home. Alone. I never made it back alive."

The Prince gets up from the chair. "I see. The Anarch Anne Bonnie saw you kicking the guy's ass, and thought you would make a good Brujah."

I nod affirmatively. "She was there. At the bar. I remember seeing her. And I remember being followed while I was walking home. She attacked me. She bit my neck."

Prince Marcel holds his hand up again. "That is good enough."

I smile. Once again, I had passed the Prince's test. The Nosferatu seemed a bit disappointed, like maybe someone had kicked his dog, or spoiled his perfect plan. I look at Greywolf. Had he in fact been stalking me, checking up on me? Or was the investigation just a coincidence? For some reason, I didn't really think so.

"So are you satisfied with my Childe's answer, your majesty?" Greywolf had a rather smug look on his face as he looked directly at Malik. "Because if you are, I believe that Mr. Malik owes me an apology...and a minor boon."

"The lady's answer is satisfactory." Marcel replies, walking toward the Nosferatu. "It seems your suspicions are unfounded, Malik. For once the great detective is wrong."

The Nosferatu's expression does not change. "It is better sometimes to be wrong, than to be right." He walks over toward us and tips his hat to both Greywolf and me. "My apologies, Greywolf. I was obviously mistaken about your intentions toward the lady. For causing her grief, I offer Ms. Ravenclaw a minor boon." He takes off his hat and bows his head to me. I can see patches of dark stiff hair sticking out at crazy angles from his scalp.

Before I could say a word, Prince Marcel intervenes. "Ms. Ravenclaw has not yet been released, Malik. Since she is still Greywolf's responsibility, the boon you offer her belongs to him, and the debt is duly noted."

"Of course, your majesty." Malik seems resigned to his fate. But in the end, the Prince's word was law. That much I had learned during my short time as a vampire.

Greywolf bows once again to the Prince, and I follow his lead. Even dead, I still hated having to kiss someone's ass, but this particular someone could kill me without a second thought. Once we are safely in the van, away from prying eyes and ears that is when I start asking questions. "So, was he right?" I ask. "Were you investigating me because you were concerned about Luna's ghoul? Or did you have some other motive?"

Greywolf does not waver. "I wanted to know more about you." He replied. But he did not actually answer the question. Damn him!

Fine then. Two could play this little game. "Okay, so what was the name of this ghoul? Maybe I'd remember him...or her." Truth was, I could remember the names and faces of all the people I'd defended as a P.D. Okay, maybe not all of them. There were some transferred cases that I couldn't remember too well. And a few that I had never had a chance to see before the charges were dropped due to lack of evidence or because some other lawyer had swooped in and taken the case.

Greywolf hesitates. Now I knew the truth. Malik had been right all along. Greywolf might not have been the one that Embraced me, but I knew that he had assisted in it. He had been the one driving the van that night. This I knew. "The ghoul's name was Ray. But you would probably know him better as Raymond Bates."

Bates. Shit. I did know the guy. Maybe he wasn't lying after all. "Yeah, I remember him. Burglary charge. He broke into a mini storage unit."

"Actually, he didn't. The unit belonged to Luna. One of her daytime havens." Greywolf glances at me as we drive. "Not every Kindred can afford a cozy haven. You learn to work with what funds you have. Mini storage units are cheap, and quite safe, since the kine owners monitor the units with security cameras both day and night. The trick then is to have someone coming and going to let you in and out."
I nod. "And that someone was Ray." Okay, so maybe I was just being paranoid. Greywolf had just been kind enough to take me under his wing. But why would he do that? I guess so he could have a Childe to raise, since the Prince had denied him the chance to create one of his own. But that seemed so...maternal. Not really like a Brujah. But then, in many ways, Greywolf and I were not the traditional Brujah, who rebelled against anything and everything. We were more towards the older Brujah, who had a cause, a passion, a calling. My calling was the Law. Greywolf's calling, I still wasn't sure about, but I had a feeling that it had to do with keeping the peace between the Anarchs and the Camarilla, and walking the thin precarious line between the two. And until he finally released me from his teachings, so too, did I. Perhaps even more so than Greywolf.

Chapter Fourteen

2004-12-13T22:45:00.000-08:00

Chapter Fourteen
Close Encounter of the Choi Kind

December. It’s always been a shitty time of year for me, and being dead didn’t make it any better. I am working on the computer, preparing the necessary paperwork to start up Legal Services of Seattle. Now that I had both the blessing of the Prince, my Mentor, and most importantly, my stockbroker, there were licenses to apply for, forms to file, and a location to be chosen. I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. I know almost without looking back that it is Greywolf. “You have worked enough tonight, Childe.” He tells me. “It is time that we went out for a bit to spend some time among the kine.”

I save my work and shut down the computer. I pick up my leather jacket from the back of the chair. I put it on over the burgundy t-shirt that just barely covered my navel. I had finally been able to get the raven tattoo on my back finished last night, and I intended to show it off. Blue jeans ripped at one knee and black leather calf high boots completed the look. I apply a single coat of my brick red lipstick.

Greywolf eyes me appraisingly. “Very nice.” I grab the small bag I used for our evenings out. It was just big enough to hold a lipstick, my wallet and a small pen. I let him lead the way, and soon enough, we are leaving the safety of our current haven and into the streets of Seattle once more. I recognize the area soon enough. It was close to my old stomping grounds, and near the Office of the Public Defender where I used to work. I’d only been gone a month, but it seemed like a lifetime. I suppose in some ways, it was. That was my old life, this was my new one. Greywolf finally picks a bar. Thankfully, it wasn’t the Black Cock. I wasn’t ready to go back there. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever be ready.

The bar Greywolf chose was MacGuffin’s, a bar that offered nearly everything a guy could want; pool tables, large portions, music, satellite television tuned to numerous sporting events, cheap booze, comfy booths and hot waitresses.

We make our way to the pool tables in the back. From going to other such places, I knew that the waitresses rarely would disturb us there. We’d have to actually go up to the bar to order drinks, which of course, we wouldn’t actually consume. “How are ya at pool?” Greywolf asks, feeding the table quarters.

“I suck.” I reply. I’d played a few games with my co-workers, and I always lost, though sometimes not by very much. I think I’d won once, but only because my opponent had scratched on an eight ball shot.

Greywolf chuckles. “Billiards was not always a lady’s game, but I shall endeavor to teach it to you. You may find it useful.” While I take off my jacket, I watch him rack up the balls and break them ineffectively.

Greywolf selects a cue from the nearby rack and hands it to me. “Your turn. Remember that this is a game of physics and angles. Use the sides when you can, and choose your shots carefully.” I line up my shot, but still miss. Greywolf sinks his first ball, a stripe, but misses the next. He selects my next shot for me, and I manage to sink it, but miss the next shot that I selected myself.

And so it goes. For being such an expert, Greywolf made about as many shots as I did. As we near the end of the game, a young Asian guy slaps four quarters down on the table. “Play you next game, old man.”

Greywolf sinks the eight ball without missing a beat. He straightens up, and sizes the guy up. “Fifty dollars a game.” Greywolf puts a single fifty-dollar bill on a corner of the table. I roll my eyes at the testosterone fest. I put my cue back in the rack, and tell Greywolf I’m going to the bathroom. As I walk away, Greywolf is getting ready to break.

I didn’t really need to use the ladies room, of course, but I did want a little time away. I use the precious few moments to preen. I check my hair. It was still the same shade of reddish-brown it had been before my death. The same shade as my mother’s, before she decided to bleach it blonde. My eyes were still the same color, but my skin was paler. It wasn’t chalky white, but it was a shade paler than ivory. I turn my back to the mirror and look over my shoulder to admire the tattoo in all its fully finished glory.

I look back in shock. The feathers, which had been so carefully inked in, were gone, erased completely from my skin. Hours of work. Lost. I recall Greywolf warning me that the ink wouldn’t last, that any alterations to the skin postmortem would be rejected. He was right, once again. I sigh, and apply another coat of lipstick. I start to walk out of the bathroom, and right into a woman coming in.

“Oh!” I was probably as startled as the woman. “I’m sorry, did I scare you?” The woman was short, Asian and rather pretty. In a matter of seconds, it clicked. It was Renee Choi, my former co-worker. Shit. I try to leave, hoping she doesn’t recognize me.

“Mara? Is that you?” Renee grabs my shoulder. I was stuck now. I had to talk to her. Greywolf had warned me that I should be careful when dealing with kine, so I concentrate and will my heart to beat again, warming my flesh for a short while.

I turn to face Renee. I didn’t want to talk to her, but I had no choice. “Renee. How the heck are you?” I offer my best fake smile, wanting to keep the conversation short. But I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be the case.

Renee pulls me back into the bathroom. “What the hell happened to you?” She demands. “I was worried when you didn’t show up Monday, and then you just up and decide to resign from the O.P.D. No warning. No notice. We were going to be lifers, you and I. Remember, you promised?”

I sigh. I had promised, but then again, I had kept it. It was the last job I held before my untimely death. I shake my head sadly. “I’m really sorry, but things have changed. I’m not the same person anymore.”

“All you did was deck some guy in a bar. How does that make things different?” Renee stomps her foot for emphasis. “The guy didn’t press charges, did he?” Her tone changed to one that was more worried.

“No, he never pressed charges.” Of course, there was no way the police could track me down anymore. I no longer had a permanent address, just a Post Office Box registered in my name. I look down, not really wanting to face her.

“So why are things so different then? I tried calling your house, but the number was disconnected. I tried going over too, but the manager said you’d moved out. So what the hell’s wrong? Why do all that?”

What could I say? I couldn’t exactly tell her that I was a vampire. That was breaking the Traditions. “I’m really sorry. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” I offer a smile, hoping she didn’t think I was serious. Though I was serious, I really would have to kill her. “No really, I just can’t tell you, you can’t help me.”

Renee was still blocking my path. “Please, Mara. Let me help you. It can’t be that bad.”

It was far worse than she could ever imagine. I touch her on the cheek. “Look. You were right. That suit was bad luck. I should have listened to you and burned it.” I start to walk past her, hoping that she will let me leave. “You can’t help me right now.” But then again, maybe there was a way she could help me. I would need associates to help me run Legal Services of Seattle. Maybe I can win her away from the O.P.D. Then again, probably not on a permanent basis. “Tell you what, I’ve got your card. I’ll call you later.” I start to walk away. I can hear Renee calling my name, begging me to come back. I wanted to return, to go back to my old life, but there was no way that I could. But though I couldn’t go back, maybe I could still keep my old friends, keep in touch about what was going on.

I return to the back room. Greywolf was calling a pocket, and taking his final shot. Surprisingly, he made the shot. He scoops the money up off the table. He nods his head to the young man. “It’s been fun.” Greywolf offers. He starts to head toward the door.

The guy grabs Greywolf’s shoulder. “Wait. Double or nothing.” I guess the kid didn’t like getting his butt beat by an old man.

Greywolf turns and smiles at him. “All right. Show me the cash.”

The kid sets another hundred on the table. Greywolf feeds the machine more quarters. The balls come rolling out, and Greywolf calmly removes each ball one at a time and puts them in the plastic triangle in the proper order. “You break.” The kid tells him. Greywolf smiles, and motions to me to take a seat. I sit, hoping that Renee won’t try to track me down again. Greywolf breaks, and two balls, both stripes, immediately sink. He was better than he’d let on. Obviously, the kid was going to lose. Again. My mentor, it seemed was quite the pool shark. Once again, it seemed, I really didn’t know him all that well.

I watch as Greywolf proceeds to sink one ball after another, until only the eight ball and the other solid balls remain on the table. He walks around the table, and finally calls it. “Eight ball in the corner pocket.” He raises his cue to indicate the left corner. He slowly lines up the shot, and then takes it. The ball falls into the pocket he indicated. Greywolf starts to take the money from the table.

The man puts his hand on top of Greywolf’s. “You cheated.”

Greywolf shakes his head. “No, you underestimated your opponent.” He takes the money and pulls his hand away from the one covering it. I start to get up, ready to protect him if I had to. I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. He didn’t need my protection. Why did I want to protect him? I still couldn’t really understand it. He extends his hand to me. “Come, my dear.”
I take his hand, grabbing my jacket at the same time, and look at the young man. Greywolf was right, the man had been too cocky and underestimated him. That was a big mistake.

Unfortunately for him, the guy decided he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Greywolf and I walk out of the bar, but the young man follows us out. “Hey!” He shouts. “I’m talking to you.”

Greywolf looks back at him a moment. “Yes, boy?” His tone is one of disrespect. It seemed he wasn’t too fond of a sore loser. Neither was I really, and I’d dealt with more than my fair share of them during my stint as a Public Defender.

The young man pulls out a knife, not bothering to take off his gray trench coat. “You cheated me. I want my money back. Now.”

Greywolf is moving backwards now, towards the alley and the shadows. The man advances on Greywolf and doesn’t notice that he was being drawn into the shadows. I follow close on both their heels. He and I had played this game before, and this target was no different. Within a matter of moments, Greywolf kicks the knife from his hand. With another sweep of his foot, he has the guy on the ground and he is ours. The kid is out cold, and we both feed from him, taking great care not to kill him. The man’s blood tasted very sweet. It must have been the extra adrenaline. There was only a slight hint of alcohol. So he wasn’t drunk yet. Always a good thing, since picking victims from bars had its drawbacks.

Greywolf pats down the man, searching him. He takes out his wallet and removes the rest of the money. Foolish, foolish, youth. Thinking that he could take on a Kindred. Greywolf gets up. I look at him. Is this what we must stoop to in order to survive? I didn’t think so. I still had my trust fund, and soon enough, I would have Legal Services of Seattle. A new purpose for my new life, such as it was.

Greywolf smiles at me, offering a mere hint of his fangs. I smile back and once again, we head into the night, two predators in search of their next prey.

Chapter Thirteen

2004-12-12T10:50:00.000-08:00

Chapter Thirteen
First Blood

When I turned my cell phone back on Monday night, I had four messages. I check my voicemail, only to learn they were all from Renee. The tones ranged from concern to white-hot anger. Guess she must have found out that I resigned today. No surprise really, since Marquis had counted on both of us to maintain the continuity of the office. Now, that responsibility fell solely to Renee. I felt horrible doing that, but I really didn’t have any other choice. I could no longer perform the necessary functions of the job, namely attending courtroom trials. I’m not sure exactly how I was going to manage that with my own private practice. I guess that’s what associates are for.

As I listen to my messages, I start to feel a bit…fuzzy. I was having trouble focusing on the messages. I really wanted to be somewhere else. Greywolf must have noticed my distress. “It has been three days since you last fed, Childe, and a poor meal at that. You must be getting rather hungry, and I must be getting remiss in your care.” He heads to the front of the small apartment towards the kitchen. I don’t hear the refrigerator door open though.

I stroll into the rather bare living room and see that Greywolf has his coat on and is pulling on a pair of black leather gloves. “Um, where are we going?” Last time, he’d simply let me drink from one of those blood bags.

Greywolf picks up my coat from where it lay on the sofa. He tosses it at me. I barely catch it before it falls onto the heavily stained and matted carpet. “Ask not where am I going, but where are we going?” He replies. “We are going out for a bite.”

A bite? I think I had some idea of what that really meant. I had to bite someone and drink their blood. I wasn’t entirely sure I could do that. “Don’t you have another one of those blood bags?” I ask.

Greywolf smiles and shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, my dear. A unit of whole blood is very hard to obtain. You either steal it from a blood bank, or buy it from an enterprising Kindred. It is also not a very optimal source of vitae. No, sooner or later, you must learn to hunt, and now is as good a time as any.”

“I’m not sure I can do this.” I put my coat on. I really wasn’t sure about anything. Nothing seemed entirely real.

“You can and you will, Raven.” Greywolf’s face darkens to an expression fast approaching rage. “Because you cannot survive without it. I know that you are a survivor and will do whatever it takes.”

Of course, if I was such a survivor, then why was I dead? I didn’t dare to ask him though.

“Come along. The sooner we leave, the sooner it will be over.” Once again, I find myself oddly compelled to obey. I follow him out the door and in moments, we were once again prowling the darkened streets of Seattle in Greywolf’s van. As we drive, Greywolf begins the next round of lessons.

“There are six types of victims.” Greywolf explains to me. “The first are animals. Their blood is a poor substitute for human vitae, but it will do in a pinch. The second type is a kine that is regularly fed upon by a Kindred as part of their herd. Ventrue, with their rarified tastes, will often have a herd, as do the Toreador, who gather admirers around them.”

I nod. That made sense, since the Toreador were the artistic types. “The next group are the kine that let us drink their blood in exchange for sex, favors or money. You will generally find them on the streets or in the various Goth clubs. Next are the unwilling passive victims. They are the ones that are either sleeping and/or drunk. Take care though, because what affects the blood can also have an effect upon you. Next there are the unwilling active victims. There are the kine that fight back, much as you did. Some of our kind enjoy the taste of adrenaline; some find it bitter.”

“You said there are six. What is the last?”

“The most dangerous of all. Kindred. I do not recommend ever drinking from another of our kind. The vitae is the sweetest of all, but there are great risks. You could find yourself bound to the Kindred if you drink from them enough. Or if you drink too deeply, you could wind up being blood hunted. As I was once an Archon, you should carefully uphold the Traditions of the Camarilla, lest it reflect badly upon me.”

“What is an Archon, exactly?” I had heard the term mentioned before, but I did not know exactly what it meant.

“Much like the kine, the Camarilla Kindred have a form of police force that upholds our laws. They are called Justiciars, and one is chosen from each of the seven Clans. Of course, they cannot be everywhere, so they choose deputies, called Archons. Though they never choose an Archon from their own Clan, they are permitted to choose three. It is rather worrisome if an Archon comes to a city on ‘business’, but the arrival of a Justiciar generally means that a Prince or their city will be going down in flames…literally.”

“You were an Archon, but no longer. So what happened?”

“Every 13 years, the Council gathers in Venice to choose new Justiciars. At that time, they are allowed to choose their Archons. When my Justiciar was released from his duty, so was I.”

I nod. The streets were becoming dark again, and I could see a lot of cars driving around. This was Seattle’s red light district, where drug dealers openly sold their wares, prostitutes walked the streets in search of customers, and where the cops rarely went after dark.

Greywolf cruises down the street. He was looking for something…or someone. We drove by several prostitutes hanging out on the corners. Finally, we slow down as we approach the corner of 3rd and Main. I watch as we finally come to a stop in front of a streetwalker. As she approaches the van, the lines of her face become prominent under the harsh streetlights. I was betting the woman was probably no more than twenty, but she looked at least my age. The streets had a way of rapidly aging someone, and she was apparently not immune.

Like most whores, male or female, it did not matter, as long as the customer had the cash. She leans on the passenger side, looking past me, and to Greywolf. She seemed unafraid, even though there were two of us and only one of her. Perhaps her pimp was lurking somewhere in the shadows. But then again, she might just be a freelancer, as she didn’t have the stick thin look of a drug addict that was a common form of control used by pimps. “Hey. What can I do for you?”

Greywolf does not allow me to speak, silencing me with a single look. He leans across me to speak to her. “We need a third.” He says, pulling me close. “You game?”

“If you got the money, hon, I got the time.” It sort of seemed like she knew Greywolf, as she was using a rather familiar tone.

Greywolf flashes the wad of cash. “Get the door.” I lean over and slide the panel door open. She climbs into the van, her tall platform shoes not hindering her at all. I guess it just took practice, but I was never too interested in walking around in such torture devices.

Greywolf had done this before, I could tell. He pulled away from the curb and headed straight down the strip toward a hotel so cheap, they charged by the hour, and reached it without hesitation or direction.

We pull into the parking lot of the Satellite Motel. The dirty neon sign announces a vacancy. Probably several, actually. Greywolf pulls into the parking lot in front of the rooms, away from the registration office. He turns to me. “Go get us a room, my dear.”

I nod and slip out of the passenger seat, leaving Greywolf with the unsuspecting kine. Or perhaps she did know what she was in for. She seemed to know Greywolf, so maybe she had dealt with him before.

The registration office was small and dingy. The clerk’s window was fronted by glass, likely bulletproof. A sign nearby announced that they did not take checks. The clerk was dark-skinned, more than likely Indian, and not the Native American kind. The clerk’s tone was neither warm nor friendly, rather more tired than anything else, and it was only six in the evening. “You need a room?” He asks.

I nod. “Yes, for a little while.”

The clerk looks me up and down. I suppose I didn’t really look like his usual type of clientele. Or heck, maybe I did. “Minimum three hour. Fifteen dollars please.”

I take a twenty-dollar bill out of my purse and push it through the small slot in the glass.

The man takes the cash, and pushes a registration card and a pen toward me. “You fill out.”
I look at the card. It was like any hotel registration card. I list my name as Jane Schmidt, giving an address a few numbers off from the address of the Kingdome. The clerk barely glances at the card. I guess he was used to seeing fake names and addresses. He then puts a five-dollar bill on the desk, and puts a key on top of it, pushing both through the slot. “Room Five.”

I offer a small word of thanks, and take the key and find the room. It wasn’t all that far from the office. But then it was a rather small motel. I go to the van and knock on the driver’s side window. Greywolf slides open the panel door. He gets out first, and then helps the woman out.

I lead them to the room and unlock the door. The room was tiny. The double bed dominated the room, and the nearby nightstand was bare of anything. No phone, no coffee maker, no microwave. Not even a television. I guess the motel’s owner figured that their clients didn’t need that sort of entertainment.

As Greywolf closes the door, it shuts with a sort of finality. This truly was the point of no return. The point at which I knew that everything had truly changed. I stand on the edge of the room, watching Greywolf and the woman. I did not want to do this. I really didn’t.

Greywolf pushes the woman’s dyed blonde hair back from her neck. He kisses her neck while looking at me. “We will have to go easy on her. It is her first time.” The woman nods in seeming understanding. He then speaks to me. “You can leave your clothes on, Raven.” I watch as he slides the woman’s coat off, allowing it to fall to the short brown pile of the room’s carpet.

With the coat gone, I could better see her outfit underneath. Torn fishnets worn under flesh colored tights, a micro mini skirt that barely covered her crotch, and a couple of stained tank tops layered one over the other. No sign of bra straps. Probably wasn’t wearing any underwear either. Greywolf peels off the tops one at a time, and soon confirms that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and soon enough, my other suspicion is likewise confirmed. I can also tell that she was definitely not a natural blonde.

I move closer, attracted by the pulsing of her throat. My predatory instincts were taking over, taking control. She sits on one edge of the bed while she helps Greywolf undress, her legs open and hugging his body. I watch his leather jacket being removed, revealing his well muscled arms that bore many small scars. While she unbuttoned his jeans, Greywolf removed the tank top, revealing many more scars on his chest, including one by his heart that must have been fatal, or at least very nearly so.

The whore pushes his pants onto the floor, and I avert my gaze. Instead, I explore the tracery of scars with my eyes. There was a great deal I did not know about my mentor, it seemed. Greywolf, noticing me, beckons me closer. I comply. He reaches behind the woman and gathers up a handful of her hair. With his other hand, he pats the bed directly behind her. My real hunting lesson was about to start.

I sit behind the woman. She is totally naked now, and I can see each and every imperfection on her back. Greywolf is also naked, and is using the whore as a barrier between us. He begins to kiss her, pulling her forward. I begin to touch her, running my fingers over her back, tracing a line to connect the freckles. She responds by reaching behind her and touching my hair. It felt really good, though not quite the same as when my mother stroked my hair. I pull my body closer to hers, and I can feel her flinch as her warm body touches mine.

My predator instinct has now entirely taken hold. I feel my fangs extending of their own accord. Taking a single, unnecessary breath, I bite into the soft part of her shoulder. I start to drink, taking the blood slowly, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. Greywolf pauses from his own ministrations. “Do not take too much.” He warns me. “Pay attention to the beating of her heart. When it begins to slow, stop.”

I am aware of little else besides the taste of her blood and the warmth of it. I was still working on instinct. I finally manage to gain enough control of myself, my ego breaking through the surface of my instinct. As her heart begins to slow, I withdraw my fangs and wipe the blood from my mouth.

“Lick the wound so it closes.” Greywolf orders. I run my tongue over her shoulder, tasting the last sweet drops of her blood. As I watch, the wound closes, leaving only bare skin.

Greywolf pulls away from the woman, and she collapses upon the bed. He takes her wrist, feeling for a pulse perhaps. Seemingly satisfied, he lays her arm across one breast, in a show of false modesty. I start to get off the bed. Before I can, Greywolf grabs me and pulls me close. Even through my clothes, I can feel his naked body pressed against mine. I try to pull away, but he forces my head upwards and kisses me, his tongue probing my mouth. Fear washes through my body. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to do this. “Not too bad.” He proclaims.

I break off the kiss and try to slap him. Greywolf catches my hand before I can connect. “Bastard.” I hiss.

Greywolf chuckles. “Did you find that…unpleasant?” I nod in reply. Caught in his grip, there was little else I could do. “Too bad. There are many unpleasant things that you will have to do in order to survive in our world. It is time you started getting used to it.”

I pull away from his grasp, and he lets me go, offering no resistance. “Such spirit. It will serve you well as a Kindred…if you are not too reckless.” Greywolf starts to get dressed. He takes some cash from his pocket and puts it on the nightstand. “She’ll wake up in an hour. I suggest we not be here when she does.” His words did make sense, so I leave with him, taking a last look at the woman now lying very still on the bed. Only the rise and fall of her chest offered any clue to her still being among the living. Unlike me. I was dead, forever lost to ‘normal’ life. I knew that now, but I wasn’t totally ready to accept it.

Chapter Twelve

2004-12-03T20:32:00.000-08:00

Chapter Twelve
Monday Monday

Renee Choi drops her purse on top of her desk and hangs her gray raincoat on a hanger outside her cubicle. Water drips from the bottom of the hem and the sleeves, creating a new water stain on top of several older ones. “Good morning, Mara.” Renee calls out over her cubicle wall.

There is no response. That was strange. Mara just lived a few blocks away. She was always here before her. Always. Renee abandons her purse and starts to walk the building. Her first stop is the tiny coffee nook. The air pots were empty. That explained why she hadn’t smelled coffee when she first walked into the office. She walked over to the copier area. The copier hadn’t been turned on either. Renee flips the toggle switch, and the copier comes to life, offering a friendly ‘warming up’ message.

Mara always made the first pot of coffee (though after that, the person that emptied the pot was supposed to make the next one), and she always turned on the copier. For further confirmation, Renee goes to Mara’s desk. Her chair was still pushed under the desk. The computer was turned off, and her desk was just as Mara had left it Friday night. Oh shit. Friday night. Did the cops pick her up for the assault? The guy seemed the type that was all bluster, and would never go to the cops if it meant admitting that he had gotten his ass beaten by a woman. No, that would damage his fragile ego far too much.

Renee bites at her thumbnail. I should have insisted on giving Mara a ride home instead of letting her walk. A chill runs through her body. The guy wouldn’t have gone to the cops, but would he have followed her? And attacked her later that night? Oh shit! Renee takes out her cell phone and starts dialing Mara’s cell phone number. She starts to hit Send, and realizes that she was one number off. She cancels and redials. There is a long pause. “Come on, come on.”

The phone on the other end doesn’t even ring. The voicemail simply picks up. “You’ve reached Mara Ravenclaw, Deputy Public Defender. Please leave a message and I will get back to you.”

“Mara, where the heck are you?” Renee asks, her voice betraying more than a small amount of concern. “I’m kind of worried. Did you make it home okay Friday night?” Renee hangs up and then makes a pot of coffee. Hopefully, Mara will be in soon. Maybe she overslept or something.

But eight o’clock rolls past with no sign of Mara. The other Public Defenders come in and get to work, but only Renee shows any real concern. Marquis arrives at 8:30. Renee waits about ten minutes to allow Marquis to get settled in, and heads into his office. She knocks on the doorjamb softly. “Knock, knock.” She says, finally catching his attention.

Marquis looks up from his pile of papers, and Renee perches herself on the edge of a counter adjacent to his desk. “Did you get a message from Mara? She hasn’t come in yet.”

Marquis looks at his phone. The red message light is neither lit nor flashing. “No, I haven’t. She hasn’t come in? That isn’t like her at all. He reaches for his Rolodex, and flips through the R’s. He finds Mara’s number, and starts to dial it. He listens a moment, and then hangs up. “It’s been disconnected. Did you try her cell phone?”

Renee nods. “It went straight to voice mail. I’m worried that something might have happened to her Friday night. Maybe that creep followed her.”

“Mara seems like the type of person who can handle herself pretty well. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“But her number’s disconnected.”

“Well, if she were dead, she certainly couldn’t have it disconnected, now could she? It’s probably totally unrelated. Maybe she decided to change her number, or didn’t pay her phone bill.”

Renee sighs. “Yeah, maybe it’s nothing.” She goes back to her desk and starts to try to focus on her caseload, but her mind continues to stray towards Mara. What if she was dead in an alley somewhere? What if someone else had disconnected her phone? The questions just kept creeping in, along with a nagging feeling that something had happened.

At 9:30, Renee’s desk phone rings. She jumps out of her chair, momentarily startled. She looks at the display. It was Marquis. “Yes, Sir?” She asks.

“Choi, my office. Now.”

“Okay.” Renee hangs up the phone and walks toward Marquis’ office. She looks over to Mara’s office. It was still unoccupied. She enters Marquis’ office. “You rang?”

Marquis gestures to a nearby chair. “Have a seat.” Renee sits down. She notices that an opened courier envelope was sitting on Marquis’ desk. It hadn’t been there earlier. Marquis picks up a piece of paper off his desk and pushes it towards Renee. “This just arrived via courier. Read it.”

Renee blanched when she saw the paper. She recognized Mara’s neat and perfectly aligned signature at the bottom of the page. “She-she resigned. I don’t believe it. I thought she was going to retire here. That’s what she told me.”

“And without notice, no less.” Marquis says. “Well, that’s a great fucking way to start out a Monday. Do you still have the resumes of the candidates we didn’t hire? Maybe one of them is still available. I’ll go through her desk and reassign her cases.”

Chapter Eleven

2004-12-02T19:32:00.000-08:00

Chapter Eleven
Introductions

When evening approached for real this time, I wake up. Even though I had been interrupted in the middle of the day, I still felt refreshed. Greywolf was standing over me, already awake. “Time to face the music.” He tells me. “It is better to go to see the Prince willingly than to be forced to see him.”

I look and see that two of the suitcases were now in the room. The ones I’d thrown at him earlier, I thought with a pang of regret. “Get dressed quickly.”

I open the first suitcase. I select a pair of sensible black leather heels, and scan the rest of the contents. I wonder what Clan Prince Marcel was. Greywolf had yet to tell me. I look to him. He was wearing black jeans with a pale blue tank top, and a black leather jacket. I decide to follow his lead, and take out a pair of blue jeans, a sky blue tank top, a white blouse and a black leather blazer. I get dressed quickly, putting on the pants first, then the heels, though I chose to go without hose, then finally layering the white top over the tank, leaving it unbuttoned. I put on the leather blazer, and take out a tube of lipstick from my purse. I open it, revealing my favorite shade of brick red. Ironic, my favorite lipstick color was so very like the color of blood. I wondered if there was a mirror nearby, but I rather doubted there was.

I zip the suitcase back up after stuffing my dirty clothes into it. Since we weren’t going to stay here, it was probably a good idea if I took the cases with us. I had a feeling that if I didn’t, I probably would never see my clothes again. He holds the door open for me as I carry the suitcases downstairs, and follows closely behind. We get to the warehouse, and I put my suitcases back in the van again. The rest of my stuff, what little I had, was still inside. I close the door and climb into the van. As usual, Greywolf is driving. Of course, I had no real idea of where we were going. Exactly where does a Kindred “Prince” hold court? There were any number of upscale neighborhoods and venues within Seattle.

Once we are safely out of the warehouse, I find my tongue once more. “So where are we going?” I ask.

“Marcel likes to rotate the meeting places. Makes it a bit safer, but a pain in the ass if you don’t where it is being held that week.”

“Week? You mean we have to meet with the Prince every week?”

“Yes, there are meetings that the Prince calls. It is called Conclave, and attendance is mandatory for all members of the Camarilla. But you are only required to present yourself to the Prince once. Though an exception is made if a new Prince is chosen.”

“Chosen? How do you choose a Prince?”

Greywolf smiles. “Very carefully. But in the end, it depends. Sometimes the Prince is appointed by outsiders; sometimes it is decided by the current Clan leaders, or Primogen of the city; sometimes the Prince is chosen by a vote of all of the Kindred of the city, sometimes the reigning Prince chooses a successor, and sometimes, though rarely, the Prince is killed, and their murderer takes their place. In the case of Seattle, Marcel was chosen by his predecessor; he had decided it was time to move on.”

“What Clan is he?” I ask.

“By the way he acts, you might think him a childe of Malkav. However, like many Princes, he is merely another ambitious and pretentious member of Clan Ventrue.” I wonder if perhaps I should have dressed differently, so that I could better impress the Prince. Clan Ventrue was generally composed of the executive types, and often dressed professionally in a suit and tie, whereas members of the other Clans often favored more casual attire. Ah well, no use in worrying over it now, I suppose.

We drive on in absolute silence. The radio remained switched off, so the only sound I was able to hear was that of the van traveling along asphalt that had been pock marked with deep ruts by the ravages of studded tires that were so prevalent during the winter to help aid with driving in snowy or icy conditions that rarely occurred. The van was rather old, and its aging shock absorbers made the ride bumpy. While it did not seem to bother Greywolf, it did bother me.

Finally, Greywolf heads back toward the downtown district, but continued past the many office buildings in favor of the theater district. As we pass the office buildings, I look in their direction. Even though I cannot see my old office from this distance, my thoughts turn to my former life. Tomorrow was Monday, and my letter of resignation would be arriving by courier. I wonder how shocked they will be when they receive it. They were all sure that I would be a lifer.

I laugh aloud, earning a dirty look from Greywolf. Because in all actuality, I was been a lifer. My stint at the P.D.’s office had been the last stop on my career path as a mortal. So in some small way, they had been right. Then there was the matter of Renee. We had gotten very close over the last three years. For her, it would likely be more shock than surprise. She might even be pissed when she finds out, for not bothering to tell her. I’d say it was a pretty strong possibility that she would be giving me a call tomorrow. I’ll have to be sure to leave my cell turned off. I didn’t know what to tell her really. It wasn’t like I could say, “Hey, I’m sorry I quit my job, but I’m a vampire now and the job just doesn’t fit my availability schedule.” In addition to it being against the vampire rules, I seriously doubted she would believe me. So what should I tell her? I suppose she does at least deserve an explanation. We’d been friends for a bit too long to totally blow her off.

When we reach the theater district, Greywolf parallel parks in front of a meter just across from a rather non-descript building across from the Moore Theatre. I wonder if we had enough change to feed the meter, but then I remember that today is Sunday, so the meters were actually free tonight. He points to the building just to the left of the non-descript one. It was an ornate five-story building featuring a mix of several architectural motifs, with a large metal compass symbol prominently displayed on top of the large rounded bay window at the top of the building. It had been a Mason’s meeting hall once upon a time, but it had been abandoned in more recent times and sold to some historical society, who had grand plans of making it into a museum of Seattle history that after fifteen years still had yet to come to fruition.

I can recall vaguely though that my parents had once attended one of their events. The name of the group was the Downtown Seattle Historical Society. I remember because it was one of the rare nights that my father was in a good mood, because they had intended to celebrate the history of the Rothchild family. If I had to guess now, the reason the group did it was because they were trying to get a large donation, as the group was neither as successful nor as well known as other groups, such as the King County Historical Society. But later, when I was grown up and searched through my father’s financial records, I realized it must not have succeeded, because I never found a check made out to them for any amount. In fact I think the only thing they managed to do was get the building, and that was mainly because it had been bought cheaply in a city auction.

The door to the building is a large wooden double door. It appeared to have sanded and refinished with a dark stain not long ago, but I could still see that not all the scratches had been entirely eliminated. Anarchy symbols and vestigial letters could still be seen on the door, testifying to its former status as an abandoned and condemned building. Greywolf opens the door. “You should go in first. Prince Marcel requires that a new vampire present themselves without escort. Not even their own Sire is permitted to accompany them.”

I turn and look at Greywolf. “Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Prince Marcel does not always make sense. As I said, he is better suited to be a childe of Malkav rather than a Ventrue. Now then, it’s best that you go in and get this over with. And when you go see him, do not tell him your real name. Your name is Raven.”

“Wait. You want me to present myself to the Prince, but you also want me to lie to him?“

Greywolf nods. “It is better that he doesn’t know. It makes you harder to track down…or keep track of. As a life long Seattleite, it will be easy enough for him to figure out who you were, given enough time.”

I nod. And like he said, Kindred had nothing but time. He was perhaps right about that. Greywolf opens the door for me, and gestures toward it. I look hesitantly back, then into the doorway beyond. It was dark, as a heavy red velvet drape hung in the doorway beyond, and there was no light source in the small entryway. I walk into the building, and the door closes behind me. There was no turning back now, I suppose. Keeping one hand in front of me to make sure there were no obstacles in my path, I continue toward the curtain.

Before I can take five steps, I hear a voice behind me, and the click of a gun’s safety. “Stop right there.” I freeze immediately. I’d seen the effects of a close range gun shot many times, so I was well aware of what kind of damage it could do to me. “Hands up.” I raise my hands slowly, so as not to make the guy feel threatened. I’d recognized the voice as belonging to a man, which meant I had to be more careful, because men with guns tend to be less than rational. I hear a couple of footsteps behind me. I stay perfectly still, not even breathing because, well, I didn’t need to anymore. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“My name is…Raven.” I reply. “I was told that I had to go see the Prince if I wanted to remain in the city.”

“Got any weapons on ya?” I feel the man’s hands patting me down. His touch was purely professional, as he only felt my breasts for as long as was necessary instead of lingering over them and caressing them too long. I hoped that he wouldn’t demand a strip search, because I’d refuse it unless he could get a woman to do it.

“No. No weapons.” I reply. The guy had already moved on to patting down my legs. I look down, but see only darkness. I close my eyes. He was almost to my ankles, so it would be over soon.

The guy brushes past me and then holds open the drape. “You can go see Marcel now.”

“Thanks.” I reply. I put my hands down and once again feel the comfort of being able to hold my purse close to my body again. I walk past the curtain and see what was beyond. It was a huge ballroom, with three huge crystal chandeliers providing a more than adequate amount of light. Red velvet curtains were drawn across the large windows, and the floor was made of oak, now refinished so that the floors reflected the light from the chandeliers. In keeping with its original use, a Mason’s symbol had been cleverly inlaid into the center of the floor using small pieces of wood.

The room was a large open space, and there were a number of Queen Anne style chairs scattered throughout the room, and there was a raised platform that must have housed a band at one time, but now was home to a very large ornate chair that was carved out of what appeared at a distance to be mahogany. A man was slouched in the chair, revealing that the chair had been upholstered in black velvet. He had his feet propped up on an ottoman that was nothing more than a small cube covered in a black material that could be leather. For a Ventrue, he was dressed rather casually, wearing a bright yellow short-sleeved shirt, no tie, bright blue chinos, white socks and black wingtip shoes. Pretty cheery looking for a vampire really.

Another man stood next to him. He was a fairly young guy, with skin so dark that he could be either a light-skinned African American or an East Indian, with just the beginning stubble of a beard coming in. Black mirror-lens sunglasses obscured his eyes, and he wore a full-length black leather trench coat that was buttoned up to his neck and barely covered his broad expanse of chest and biceps. I noticed a very obvious bulge in the guy’s midsection that indicated the presence of a weapon. That guy must be the other one’s bodyguard, as far as I could tell. All I knew was that he was definitely someone I didn’t want to tangle with be it in the courtroom or in a dark alleyway.

I hear the voice behind me again. “My Liege, this lady, who says her name is Raven, wishes to present herself.” I resist the urge to turn around.

The man shifts in the chair, sitting up just a bit straighter. “You may approach the Prince.” What the? Was he referring to himself in the third person? What the heck was up with that? I am reminded of the many times I had been asked by a judge to approach the bench, and use the same respective manner to approach the platform. There were no others in the room, just me, the Prince, his bodyguard and the person that had escorted me into the room. But then perhaps the other Kindred of the city hadn’t arrived yet. I wondered silently when Greywolf would show up. As I approach, I keep my eyes on him.

There is an amused look on the man’s face as I approach. He looks to his bodyguard. “So, Brazil, what do you think about our new arrival? What Clan might be the one that claims her?” The man with the sunglasses looks toward me, and then back to the Prince, but says nothing. “Ah, yes, Brazil, I forgot you are the strong silent type, and not one to offer me counsel. I continue my progress forward. When I get within five feet from the platform, he speaks again. “That’s far enough. I don’t want you getting too close.”

The man behind me speaks. “My liege, she is but one woman, what can she possibly do?”

The man gets up from his throne. He reaches behind his back and in one fluid motion, draws a small pistol from his pants. “This.” I immediately dive to the floor, wanting to try to avoid being hit, though there was little nearby that could provide me any sort of cover. I hear a single gunshot, and the grunt of the man behind me.

I look back and see that the man’s white shirt has now sprouted a blossom of dark red blood where his heart would be. I can only look on in a stunned sort of silence, looking back at the Prince, who does nothing to aid him. I get up and go over to the guy, and dig the cell phone from my purse. The guy needed a doctor. I turn it on, and the man takes it from my hand, his rather large rough hand nearly dwarfing my own. “Thanks, but I’m fine.” He tucks the cell phone back into my purse. And in the end he was right, because through the hole in the ruined shirt, I could now see flesh where there had to have been a bullet hole. Obviously, he was also Kindred. That much was now obvious. I look around the room, and see that Greywolf is still not in the room. Was he waiting behind the red curtain? That seemed rather likely.

I turn back toward the Prince. He is still standing, but he has tucked the weapon away. “Hmm…I do not think you could be Toreador. You would have been worried about getting blood on your nice clothes. And a Malkavian would have likely been using the blood to paint the floor or some such nonsense. Nor do you seem to be hiding any animal features, which means you are not Gangrel. So that narrows down the choices a little. However, you also seem very young indeed. Your humanity is still very ingrained within you. An elder Kindred would not bother with trying to ask for assistance from the kine, especially when to do so would lead them to an Elysium, a safe haven for all Kindred. For this transgression, I will forgive you. This time. But do not let it happen again.” I look down. Elysium? Greywolf had not mentioned this to me yet.

The Prince continues to study me. The subject of my Clan now is seemingly forgotten, because he has now changed the subject. “So tell me then, Raven exactly how old are you?” He goes back to his chair and once again puts his feet up.

Why the hell did he care how old I was? I was dead, so it didn’t really matter anymore. I start to offer a smart aleck remark, but then I look at the man’s grave expression and think better of it. “Thirty-one.” I reply.

The Prince takes out the gun and points it toward me. “Wrong answer. I don’t want to know how long you were alive, I want to know how long you’ve been dead.” The volume of his voice was starting to rise.

I pause a moment, considering my answer. I’d been ‘Embraced’ as Greywolf had put it on Friday and today was Sunday? I think it was Sunday. I look back up at him. “Two days.” I reply.

The man jumps up from his chair. “Two days?? And was your Embrace done here in Seattle, or have you come from some other city?”

“I was born in Seattle, and I died in Seattle.” I keep my eyes upon the Prince and his bodyguard. Neither had made a move toward me yet. But the Prince still had the gun pointed at me. In spite of having a gun pointed at me, I was still quite calm.

“What?! I did not give any Kindred in this city permission to Embrace a kine. Who is your Sire, whelp?”

“Her Sire was an Anarch, your majesty.” Greywolf had finally decided to show himself, it seemed. The Prince puts the weapon away again. “But she was abandoned. I’m afraid her Sire may have thought that the Embrace didn’t work and left her for dead. I found her in an alleyway, suffering through the agony of the change.”

The Prince turns back toward me. “Is this true? Or is Greywolf your Sire?”

“I- I remember a woman biting me just before I…died.” I reply. “I really don’t know what happened after that.”

The Prince looks past me, towards Greywolf I suppose. He taps one finger on his chin. “Now if I recall correctly, Greywolf, you had asked me three years ago for permission to create a Childe of your own. At that time, I refused your request, just as I have refused all such requests.”

“I remember, your majesty. But as you recall, the Anarchs are under no such restrictions. If I wish to accept the responsibility of another’s discarded Childe, then that is my choice.”

“That assumes, of course, that she is not already your Childe. And if she is, and you have lied to me, then not even your status as a former Archon can save you or your Childe from Final Death for breaking such an important Tradition.”

“I assure you, your Majesty, that she is not, and I know that you have the means to prove it.”

The Prince smiles finally and seems to relax a bit. He snaps his fingers twice. “Gerardo, go fetch the Warlock Montenegro. Tell him that I have a new Childe that has a question about her lineage that needs to be resolved tonight.”

The bodyguard does not move, but the man with the bullet hole in his shirt does. “Yes, my Liege.” I then hear footsteps and turn my head to see him exit the room through a side door.

I feel Greywolf’s hand upon my shoulder. “You will have your proof soon enough, your majesty. And then we will discuss reparations.”

The Prince seems amused. “Reparations for what, exactly?”

“Two of your men broke into one of my havens this morning while Raven and I were sleeping. They destroyed my computer, and by your own rules of engagement, that is strictly forbidden.” I can feel him shifting his weight, and from the corner of my eye, I see him half-bow to the Prince.

“And as I also recall, one of my ghouls returned from the foray in rather bad shape. So I think we can call it even, now can’t we?” The Prince goes back to sit down in his chair, offering a flash of fangs. I look at him and then to Greywolf, wondering what I did to deserve being in the middle of what was very obviously a pissing match between himself and the Prince. They stare at each other for a very long time. The one named Gerardo finally helps to break the impasse by coming back into the room.

Gerardo bows to the Prince. “My liege, the Warlock Montenegro is on his way.”

The Prince smiles once more. “Very good. Now go back to guarding the door lest we have any other newcomers arrive this evening.” Gerardo bows again and heads toward the red velvet curtain, and soon disappears behind it. He turns to me. “Until Montenegro arrives, I want you both to take a seat here in front of me.” He gestures to the chairs along the wall, but makes no move to get one, and neither does his bodyguard. Since Gerardo was gone from the room, Greywolf walks over to the wall and picks up two chairs and brings them back to where I stood. Playing the gentleman, he motions for me to sit first. “But until Montenegro arrives, I still expect the two of you to answer my questions. I hope I make myself clear.”

“Crystal.” Greywolf’s reply is a half-growl.

The Prince decides to first focus his attention upon me. I suppose it made sense, since I was the newcomer. “Are you a member of Clan Brujah, Raven?”

“As far as I am aware, yes.” I reply.

“Who is your Sire?”

“I was told that my Sire’s name is Anne Bonnie and that she is an Anarch.” I keep my eyes on the floor, not daring to look at the Prince.

“She is well known among the Anarchs, your Majesty.” Greywolf offers.

“Silence!” I nearly jump from my chair. “I was not addressing you, I was addressing her.” The Prince then turns back to me. “Now where were we? You say you have lived in Seattle all your life? What did you do for a living?”

“Yes, Sir, um, your majesty. I was a lawyer.”

The Prince raises an eyebrow. “Really? I would have thought the Brujah would not bother with a lawyer. Lawyers are more often the choice of Clan Ventrue because of their wealth, relative power and connections.”

“I was-“ I feel Greywolf give me a small shove. I look at him, and he shakes his head. Right the easy to track down thing. How many Public Defenders were there in Seattle, after all? However, I also realize that the Prince would expect me to answer. “I was an instructor at Seattle University School of Law. Criminal Law.” It was a total fabrication, but I do have expertise on the subject. After all, I’d worked for the Office of the Public Defender for more than three years.

The Prince looks at Greywolf. “Very interesting indeed. I suppose your Sire must have chosen you based upon the old ideals of the Clan.” Greywolf had mentioned this to me in passing. How the Brujah Clan wasn’t always all about rebellion and anarchy; that it was actually a bit more recent development, though his definition of recent was not quite the same as mine, as this had happened back in the Dark Ages. Was he really that old? I didn’t believe that was the case. He knew too much about the modern world, and not enough odd habits. But what the hell did I know, really? I’d only known him for two days.

I didn’t really know what to say, but fortunately, I didn’t have to answer, as he then turned to Greywolf once again. “Somehow, I’m not entirely convinced that an Anarch would Embrace such a person.”

Greywolf’s tone is respectful, but tinged with anger. “Are you accusing me of lying, your majesty?” He was gripping the edge so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “You have my word that I did not Embrace her. Would you prefer having yet another Caitiff Anarch running around the city? Or a loyal subject of the Camarilla, under the tutelage of a former Archon?”

The Prince considers this a moment. “I would rather not have another new lick in the City. There are too many Kindred in the City as it is.” The Prince then turns his attention to a point past us. “Ah, there is Montenegro now.”

I turn my head back and catch a glimpse of this Montenegro. He was like a movie vampire come to life, with his dyed black hair slicked back revealing a substantial widow’s peak, and the black bushy eyebrows of a person of Slavic origin, much like Bela Lugosi, the king of all movie vampires. His skin was pale, almost white really, with the exception of his lips, which were crimson. From a recent feeding, perhaps? Or was it merely makeup to enhance the appearance of being a vampire? In addition, while he wasn’t wearing the trademark long black cape of a movie vampire, he was wearing a very formal black suit. The white shirt stood out in sharp contrast from the suit, and so did the medallion he wore on a heavy gold chain. Though the medallion was not in the shape of a traditional iron cross and set with a ruby, but rather it was an abstract design of a circle and triangle together, enameled in black.

Montenegro parts his lips in a twisted mockery of a smile. He bows low to the Prince. I look back and catch Greywolf’s look of utter disgust. I could almost read his mind. He was likely thinking about what a brown-noser the guy was, though probably not in such polite terms. I wasn’t too fond about him either. There was something about him that was just flat out creepy.
“Good evening, my Lord Marcel.” He offered. “What service do you ask of House and Clan Tremere this night?”

The Prince gestures toward me. “This woman sitting before me was Embraced two nights ago. Greywolf has volunteered to adopt her as his Childe, but insists that she is not his Childe by blood. I want to know exactly who her Sire is.” He glares at Greywolf accusingly.

Montenegro looks to Greywolf. “Ah Greywolf, how pleasant to see you again. And under such …interesting circumstances.” The one named Montenegro gets closer and he soon stands in front of me. He grabs my chin and tilts my head upward to look at him. I instinctively pull away from his hand and glare at him. I never liked it when my father did that to me, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some stranger do it now. “Typical Brujah.” He declares. “I am Montenegro, Primogen for Clan Tremere in Seattle. You look rather familiar, actually. Have we met before, whelp?”

“I doubt it.” I reply icily. While he certainly could have been a slimy lawyer type, I don’t believe that he was actually a lawyer, because court typically closed down before it got dark, and based on the fact that he wasn’t breathing, he definitely wasn’t human. Nor really, did he make any real attempt to pass as one. “But maybe I’ve seen you in the movies? Playing Dracula?”

The others in the room tried very hard not to laugh, and I could see Montenegro’s mood darken by the tightening of the lines of his face. He reaches into his jacket and removes a small knife with a pattern of black twining vines etched along the middle of the blade. The lights from the chandelier dance over the sharp edge of the blade as he holds it in his hand. He reaches in an outer pocket and pulls out a plastic test tube. “Your hand. Give it to me.”

It didn’t sound like a request. It also didn’t sound like I should refuse it. I look straight at him as I offer him my right hand, palm up. Holding my palm in his hand, he draws the blade across my upraised palm and I watch as blood begins to slowly well up from the wound. I grit my teeth against the sudden throbbing pain in my hand and watch as he tilts my hand upward and uses the test tube to collect the blood from the wound. He holds it up to the light and I can see that it is a dark reddish brown color. Funny, I would have thought my blood would be bright red, as there were veins as well as arteries in the hand.

I bend my arm at the elbow, holding my hand up to help slow the bleeding. It garners strange looks from the Prince and Montenegro, who look on in silence. Greywolf leans over to me and whispers in my ear. “Focus your thoughts on healing the wound.”

I look down at the cut on my palm, still oozing blood. I focus upon making the two edges of the wound knit together and to my great surprise the cut closes, not even leaving a scar. Greywolf had not lied about the Kindred ability to heal quickly. I look at him, and show him the healed cut. He smiles at me, for perhaps the first time.

Montenegro turns toward the Prince, bowing once more. “My Lord, I would greatly appreciate the ability to use a private room to conduct the test.”

“Of course. The Prince snaps his fingers twice. “Gerardo! Get in here.” Gerardo appears from behind the curtain. He drops to one knee and lowers his head. “Show Montenegro to the Blue Room.”

“Of course, my liege.” Gerardo gets up and turns to Montenegro. “If you will walk this way.” He starts to walk toward the side door again.

Montenegro starts to follow Gerardo, but he stops and turns toward the Prince once more. “The test will take an hour’s time, I will return then with the results.” He then walks through the side door, following behind the Prince’s servant.

“Until then, of course,” The Prince adds, “I expect you to remain here. I wouldn’t want the two of you to suddenly…disappear. I’d hate to have to call a Blood Hunt upon the two of you.” I look at Greywolf, a bit puzzled. Prince Marcel seems to know what I was thinking, because he continues. “A Blood Hunt is a call for all the Kindred of the city to track down another Kindred. They are given full leave to ignore the Tradition of Destruction, as long as what is left of the body is delivered to me. It is my right as Prince to call down the Blood Hunt upon someone as I see fit.”

I nod. That didn’t sound very pleasant.

“Come here, Raven.” The Prince beckons to me, and gestures to the stairs that were to the right of his chair. I look to Greywolf, who nods, giving me his permission to leave his side. I get up from the chair and move toward him hesitantly. I walk up the stairs, and pause to look at Greywolf. His expression was grim, for he was scowling now. What did he know that I did not? A great deal, it seemed, because his eyes were on me as I ascended the stairs. I stop at the top of the platform and wait for more instruction. “Have a seat on the floor by Brazil.” Seeing my options were rather limited, I grab a patch of hardwood and sit down with my legs stretched out. I was wearing jeans, so modesty was not something I had to worry about.

“Now if you are lying, Greywolf, you will see your Childe slain before your eyes, and you will be next.”

Greywolf gets up from the chair, pushing it over. “I would not lie about matters of such gravity.”

“But you would lie about other things?” The Prince drums his fingers on the arms of the chair. “You disappoint me. But the Brujah always have a way of doing that.”

Greywolf does not move a single inch. “Your majesty, you shall see soon enough that Raven is not my Childe. And when you do, I expect an apology. To myself and to Raven.”

“If you’re not lying, which I highly doubt, then you will have your apology. And she will be welcome in the city, despite having an Anarch Sire. Since she is an unreleased Childe, I do not owe her any sort of apology.”

“Touché.” Greywolf replies.

The side door opens. I turn toward the sound in time to see the Warlock Montenegro stalking back into the room with Gerardo closely nipping at his heels. He did not look at all happy. Greywolf was smiling again, so I could only hope that it meant good news.

The Prince runs his thumb over his mouth and watches Gerardo return to his place behind the drapes. “Tell me, Montenegro, who is the whelp’s Sire?”

Montenegro bows low, his eyes ablaze with rage. He fixes his eyes upon me. “My Lord, she is a Brujah of the Eleventh Generation, and her Sire is one named Anne Bonnie, an Anarch residing within the city.”

“So it seems I owe you an apology, Greywolf.” The Prince gets up from his chair. “My apologies. I was merely suspicious that you might have created her in defiance of my wishes.”

Greywolf does not bow. “Apology accepted.” I look back to the Prince and the bodyguard, who had yet to speak a single word.

The Prince turns and looks at me. “My dear Raven, you are welcome within the city as an unreleased Childe. Until Greywolf decides to release you, he will be held accountable for your actions. And believe me, you will both be watched…very carefully. But for now, you may both go.” The Prince addresses Montenegro next. “Montenegro, thank you for your assistance. It is very much appreciated.” Montenegro says nothing, but instead bows to the Prince and then heads back through the side door.

I get up from my place on the floor. “Thank you, your majesty.” I walk down the stairs and return to stand at Greywolf’s side. He had stood up for me, and quite obviously, risked his own life to stand for me. I still couldn’t really understand why. I know what he had told me, but I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it. Was there some other reason? Some reason he didn’t want to tell me?

“Come along, Raven. There is still much that we need to do this night. There are others that you must meet.”

Others? Meeting the Prince was ordeal enough. What other trials must I endure this evening? Greywolf leads me through the side door. The same door that Montenegro had gone through only moments earlier. Is that really a good idea? I wondered. That guy had been glaring daggers at me as soon as he returned.

The room beyond the door was really just a hallway, but along it hung portraits set in large gilt frames that also bore Masonic symbols. There were several heavy doors leading from the hallway, but Greywolf confidently opens one and gestures me inside. The room was rather large, the size of a formal dining room, and richly appointed. Heavy floral tapestries hung on the wall, and there were oriental rugs on the floor of the traditional dark red color with a floral pattern that closely matched the tapestries on the walls. Three overstuffed couches in dark brown leather were scattered around the room, as were a few small tables of highly polished mahogany. About ten people were lingering in the room, none of them breathing, and a lone human servant scurried about the room, tending to the whims of the gathered Kindred, carrying a silver tray holding champagne flutes filled with a red liquid I could only assume was blood.

There was one Kindred that stood out from the others. He wore a light tan trench coat and a brown fedora. If it weren’t for his greenish skin, you would almost think he stepped out of an old detective movie. What, was it dress like your favorite film star night? I didn’t dare ask that question, but I was still curious about the green guy.

“Why is that guy green?” I whisper.

Greywolf looks in the man’s direction. “That is Malik.” He tells me quietly. “He is a member of Clan Nosferatu.”

Ah yes, the Nosferatu. The ugly ones. That explained a great deal. I look at the others, trying to judge what Clan they were by the way they dressed. Half of them wore suits, though a couple looked to be made of cheap polyester. There were four women and six men in the room, not including us. Only one of them was visibly ugly; most were rather average looking, though the women were exceptionally beautiful. They looked and dressed like supermodels; tall, willowy, perfectly dressed, perfectly made up and with not a single hair out of place. Toreador perhaps? They were the pretty Clan after all.

“So who are we going to see?” I ask.

“It is traditional that a new arrival to the city introduce themselves to both the Prince and the Primogen, or leader of their Clan. We are going to see the Primogen of Clan Brujah. Greywolf directs my attention to one of the men wearing a cheap polyester suit. It reminded me of the some of the suits that a defendant might wear for their criminal trial. Cheap, and it looked good for maybe two wearings. The pinstriped suit he was wearing had seen more than two, as the fabric was starting to pill. His shoulder length brown hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed for a while, and his black loafers were scuffed and had a thin coating of mud. The ladies were ignoring him, and he started walking toward the two of us. We were walking toward him, and we met halfway, near the middle of the room.

“Greywolf.” He tapped Greywolf on the shoulder with his fist, a macho sort of greeting. “Nice to see you again. Who, pray tell, is your charming friend?”

“Armand, this is Raven, the newest member of our Clan in Seattle.”

Armand takes my hand and kisses the back of it. I feel his lips gently brush my skin. “Welcome to the City, Raven. So where are you from?”

I smile slightly, a bit embarrassed by the gesture. It was something I’d only seen done in the movies. I’d never actually had someone kiss my hand before. But then, I was unaccustomed to dealing with real gentlemen. “Seattle.” I reply.

The room suddenly became quiet. A crystal flute fell to the floor and shattered, spilling the remains of its ruby red contents on the floor. Its fall went unnoticed, for all eyes were suddenly upon me. Greywolf was the first to break the silence. “Armand, she was Embraced by an Anarch. Prince Marcel, in his infinite wisdom has allowed me to adopt her as my own Childe.”

Armand smiles at me. “You are most fortunate, young one. The Prince must have been feeling quite generous to allow you to live.”

I shrug. “I suppose so.” Personally, I didn’t feel all that lucky. After all, I was dead. My career as I knew it, was over. And I had to drink human blood in order to survive. Yeah, I can’t say that was really fortunate.

Armand looks around at the others gathered around the room, watching the three of us. “Come, let us go somewhere a bit more private.” He goes over to where the mortal servant was now cleaning up the fallen glass with a towel. The silver tray, bearing four crystal flutes full of blood, sat on a nearby mahogany table, temporarily abandoned. He picks up three flutes, holding two balanced carefully in one hand and one in the other. With his left hand, he offers me a glass, which I accept, then offers Greywolf a glass from his right hand. Greywolf accepts the glass, and together we go back out into the hallway into another, much smaller room.

This room must be what the Prince referred to as the Blue Room, because the room was done entirely in blue. The walls were painted a pale blue, with a dark blue ceiling that had been dotted with silver stars to imitate a night sky. Heavy blue velvet drapes were hung across the windows, and the antique furniture was upholstered in the same blue fabric that the drapes had been made of.

Armand raises his glass. “This occasion calls for a toast.” He waits for us to follow suit. “To the newest member of Clan Brujah. To Raven.”

“To Raven.” Greywolf replies. We each take a sip from our glasses.

Armand sits down on the sofa. He pats the seat next to him. “Come and have a seat next to me.” I look at Greywolf, who nods his assent. I sit down next to Armand. It was odd, really. It had been some time since I had been this close to a man. I crossed my legs, but twirled my foot in lazy circles, focusing on that rather than my proximity to him.

“So Raven, what were you before you became one of us?”

“I was a lawyer, working for the Office of the Public Defender.” I replied.

“How interesting. A lawyer that actually helps people instead of corporations. Perhaps she will indeed make a good Brujah.” He looks at Greywolf. “So, tell me, how did you manage to convince the Prince to allow her to live?”

Greywolf smiles. “He called me a liar. Accused me of Embracing her myself. But the Warlock’s test proved that he was wrong, and he was forced to apologize and accept her as my adopted Childe.”

“Another toast, then.” Armand raises his glass again. “To Greywolf’s victory in this latest skirmish with the Ventrue Prince.” ”To Greywolf.” I murmur, and we take another sip from our glasses. Greywolf had told me of the long-standing hatred between the Brujah and the Ventrue. This latest victory was just one small battle in a much larger war. I can’t really see the logic in it myself. Why continue to antagonize the Prince when you could simply play along? It’s like having a boss you don’t like. You just do what you can to keep them happy, and hope that things will change. Though I was also told that a change of leadership within a city is rather rare. If you don’t like the Prince, you’re going to be stuck with that Kindred for quite possibly a very long time to come.

“You look upset, young one.” Armand offers. “What bothers you? I assure you, you will get used to drinking vitae in time.”

I shake my head. “I liked my job. I liked being able to help people, and now I can’t do it.”

Armand laughs a bit. “My dear, you will learn that all you need to do is work within the limitations of your condition. There are other ways to help people that do not require working during the day. You could, for example, open your own practice and set your own hours. There is plenty of need for a lawyer that keeps office hours after the workday is over. Consider that a moment before you wallow in your self-pity. You are Brujah, and you must follow your passions, or you will perish.”

“I thought that Kindred were immortal, immune to all but a few methods of death.” Armand’s words seemed to differ from what Greywolf had told me.

“There are few means of physical death, but there are many means of spiritual death. A loss of passion, or giving into the Beast too many times, for example. Death is not immediate, to be certain, but it can be just as final.”

I nod. That made as much sense as most of the things I had learned in the past few nights. I suppose it was rather like an old person. They tended to do well when they had some sort of hobby or activity to keep them busy, and once that was lost to them, many tended to slip away. Before my grandmother had passed away, I had seen a fair number of other residents in the hospice pass away, killed more by loneliness and a sense of uselessness rather than by the disease that affected them.

At the moment, I felt as much as those lost souls in hospice care. I had lost my sense of purpose, and I needed to find it again. And Armand was indeed right. I could recall many, many cases of not being able to get in touch with witnesses or my client’s relatives and friends because they simply could not come in during our office hours. I’d done what I could to accommodate them, but it simply wasn’t always possible. If I were to open my own firm, I could set my own hours, and actually be able to help those least able to help themselves. It seems there was a great deal that I could do after all. All was not entirely lost.

“Has Greywolf taken you to meet Luna yet?” Armand’s tone lowers to just above a whisper.

I shake my head. Who was Luna and why was she important? Was she here in the building? It didn’t seem so, because I would have thought that she would have accompanied us into the room. And why would he be so secretive while mentioning her name? He then looks to Greywolf again. “You are taking her soon, though?”

“Of course.” Greywolf replies. “I think she would be more than willing to assist Raven in her quest for her passion.” I wasn’t really so sure anyone could help me. Then again, perhaps I do know of someone who could help me. I make a note to call my stockbroker about making a withdrawal. Fortunately, he had been my father’s broker for some time, and given the size of the Rothchild family holdings, I could call him virtually any time of the day or night.

I saved my questions about Luna for another time. There were other things I needed to worry about now. Raising the necessary capital. Securing a suitable location. Finding my target market. Thinking of a name for the company. And not necessarily in that order. Hell, I was thinking like my father now.

My father’s will dictated that I would receive payments from the trust fund he’d set up only IF I went to school and became a lawyer. But he never bothered to specify what KIND of lawyer I could be, and I’d used that loophole to my advantage. However, there was no getting around the fact that trust fund had been specified as ‘in perpetuum’, which meant that I didn’t get to manage the funds myself when I turned 18 or 25 or ever. Control of the fund remained firmly and permanently in the hands of the brokerage firm, Morgan Stanley Dean Witter. Only the complete and utter shutdown of the brokerage would allow me access to the funds. And they didn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon.

Greywolf and Armand were discussing a great number of things. I was only half-listening, because I was planning my next moves. Who should I serve? Obviously not corporations, or the wealthy. They didn’t need my help, though the pay was always good. Criminals? That’s what the Office of the Public Defender was for. But what about the ones that fell between the cracks? The people that worked hard and got the short end of the stick? They were the ones that truly needed help, but couldn’t afford it. I could charge based on a sliding scale, according to their income level. And run it as a non-profit legal service firm. Yes, that could work very well.

Greywolf gets up from the couch opposite ours. “Come, my dear, there is still much that we need to do tonight.” He offers me his hand and helps me up from the sofa. It wasn’t that late really, as a glance at my watch told me it was only about nine. Perhaps the visit to this Luna would take time? Even so, there was much that I wanted, no I needed to do in order to get this project off the ground. “Thank you Armand, for your time.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Armand winks at me. I move closer to Greywolf. Though I wasn’t entirely fond of Greywolf, I was even less fond of a man trying to make a move on me. I follow Greywolf out the door and we leave through a different exit, saying no goodbyes to anyone else, not even the Prince. Was this a normal thing to do? Leave without saying goodbye? It seemed rather rude, but then, were Kindred really subject to the social norms of mortal society? I suppose that they should be, since we were supposed to live within their rules, not outside of them.

Within a few moments, we are driving again, back towards the less savory parts of Seattle. The brightly lit streets start to gradually darken because as we approach the area, more and more of the streetlights are out of commission, and graffiti begins to rear its ugly head. I was familiar with this part of town. I’d visited it more than a few times, most often in the day, and only rarely without an escort. Was this where we were going to sleep for the day? It wasn’t as good a choice as the Industrial District, because there was little industry here besides the illegal trades of drugs and prostitution. Most of the legitimate industries had fled long ago, victims or beneficiaries of the North American Free Trade Agreement. Rumor had it that this part of the city often served as a meeting place so the Anarchist groups could plan their next big protest.

We reach the heart of the neighborhood, and pull up to a building that had its doors boarded up. I look at Greywolf. Where were we going? There was no reason to park here, as there wasn’t any way into the building. Greywolf gets out of the van and walks around the building. I follow, still curious as to where he was headed.

There were no lights inside the building, and the exterior lights were not turned on either, but the exterior lights of nearby buildings reflect upon the wet asphalt, and somewhat illuminate the building. When we reach the back of the building, I see a fire escape ladder sitting on the ground, as if it had been waiting for our arrival. “After you.” He offers.

I give Greywolf a look, and then look up. I wiggle the ladder, and it yields under my touch. He expected me to climb five stories up a ladder that might not even hold my weight. He was fricking nuts!! But he looked very serious, so I start to climb up the ladder. “The roof.” He replies to my unasked question. I climb, and the metal feels chilly under my hands, but not as cold as metal exposed to the chill night air should be. When I get about halfway up, I hear a clang of metal below me. I look down and see Greywolf making his way up the ladder, keeping a steady pace. It was a long way down. Good thing I wasn’t afraid of heights.

When I reach the top, I hear the distinct sound of a pistol being cocked. A bright light was shining directly into my eyes, blinding me, and allowing me to see nothing past the light. “Who the fuck are you?”

Great. That’s all I needed. Someone else pointing a gun at me tonight. I raise my hands, attempting to demonstrate that I wasn’t a threat. I glance down into the darkness, but my night vision was gone now, and I couldn’t tell exactly where Greywolf was on the ladder. I gather up my courage and stare back into the light. “Name’s Raven.” I reply. “I’m here with Greywolf.”

The light goes off. I do not hear a shot. I guess I must have given them the answer they wanted to hear. I hear a sound behind me, and turn to see Greywolf pulling himself up the stairs. Thank goodness. I was somewhat safer now.

A string of miniature white Christmas lights comes on, revealing the perimeter of the building and a rather large group of people. I see a guy with huge biceps that had to be steroid induced tucking a gun into his waistband. Two other rather large guys stood near him, both with large bulges visible underneath their black leather jackets. Oh shit. Did all three of them have weapons pointed at me earlier? That was a scary thought.

The majority of the activity centered around a woman reclining in a plastic lawn chair that had a few broken straps lying on the ground. Her black hair was cut into a short pageboy, but had been obviously been sprayed and moussed within an inch of its life. Her skin was pale, and she was stick-thin. The torn Black Flag t-shirt hung on her thin frame, her breasts just mere suggestions. She was definitely not breathing, but she had a laptop perched on her lap, typing furiously as others looked over her shoulder and talked both to and around her.

We approach and she looks up from her work. “Greywolf. Back so soon?”

Greywolf nods. “Evenin’ Luna.”

Luna looks past Greywolf and directly at me. “Who’s that with you? She asks.

“Luna, this is Raven, my protégée. Raven, this is Luna, the current leader of the Anarchs in Seattle.” Luna closes the laptop, and I hear it bleep in protest as it powers down. She gets up from the chair and circles both Greywolf and me. I can feel her dark smoldering gaze scanning me, looking for something, but what exactly?

“Your protégée, but not your Childe? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You forget, Luna, as liaison between yourself and Prince Marcel, I must abide by the Camarilla Traditions. Marcel has thrice refused me permission to create a Childe, just as he has refused everyone that has asked him. I cannot create a Childe, but that does not mean that I can’t adopt one that is lost and in need of guidance.”

As she circles me, I follow her with my eyes, keeping a sharp eye on her. I was beginning to learn that Kindred are more dangerous than they seem, and you should never turn your back upon them if you valued your…unlife. “I suppose that it does not. So she is an Anarch’s Childe then?”

“That she is, or Marcel would not have allowed her to live another night.”

Luna smiles. “And do you have any idea who her Sire might be?”

“Anne Bonnie, a fellow Brujah. At least that is what the Warlock Montenegro told Marcel.”

“How convenient, considering I heard she took off.”

“That, obviously, is why poor Raven is an abandoned Childe.” I lower my eyes, figuring I should show the Anarch leader a modicum of respect.

Luna smiles. “In any case, the Childe is welcome here, as are any who support our cause.”

I look to Greywolf to get permission from him before speaking. I had come very close to getting killed tonight. Too close, and I intended to toe the line, at least for a little while. Until I had a better idea of what the hell I was supposed to do, what I should say, how I should act. Fuck. And here I thought being a lawyer was hard. Being a vampire, hell, it seemed nearly impossible. I look at Greywolf. Maybe it just took time to adjust and learn what to do. After all, he was the eldest Brujah in the city, assuming he hadn’t been lying to her. And I had no reason to believe that he was lying.

Eventually, Luna grows tired of us. She opens her laptop up again and starts working again. Greywolf leans over to me. “We’ve been dismissed, my dear. But we are welcome to remain.” Greywolf and I hang out on the roof for a while. We mingled with the gathered crowd. I soon realized that not all of the people here were actually Kindred. Many were actually human, as they were still breathing. Were they servants of the Kindred here? Or just hanging out, dressed up all tough in their black leather, safety pins, motorcycle boots, and tank tops, pretending that the cold Seattle night didn’t bother them, but it was rather obvious that it did because the nipples of both the men and the women were standing at attention. I focused in on their necks, watching the rise and fall of their pulse. The blood was calling me, taunting me. I suppose though, that this sort of fell into the rule of Domain, so feeding on them without Luna’s permission would be dissing her, and a really bad idea.

It is nearly four a.m. by the time Greywolf and I head for another haven, another place to sleep for the day. I hope this time we aren’t interrupted in the middle of the day. Funny though, no one bothered us when we were sleeping at my place, and yet we had abandoned the place. But that was all part of cutting the old mortal ties. Will I still be able to visit my gran at Washington Memorial? I sure hoped so.

Chapter Ten

2004-12-01T19:10:00.000-08:00

Chapter Ten
Daylight Raid

I heard an alarm. A very insistent one. I was barely conscious. So while working on virtual autopilot, I reach around to the left side of my bed, aiming for the snooze button. “Shut up.” I muttered.

But instead of hitting the button, I roll off the bed, landing on a cold linoleum floor. Fortunately, it wasn’t a very long way to fall, as my bed was just a mattress on the floor. But the impact was enough to jar me into consciousness. I blink my eyes and try to rub the sleep from them, but my arms responded so slowly, they felt like they were trapped in some viscous liquid. Furthermore, I couldn’t move my left arm past my chest. I look around and see that there is no alarm clock. The alarm was issuing out over the speakers in the building. I also notice that I now wore a cable chain on my wrist, and the cable mount had been set into the floor. Shit. I was trapped! Guess it served me right for trying to make a break for it.

I look around for Greywolf. He was nowhere to be found. Damn him. The alarm was getting louder, the wail turning to a piercing shriek.

Gunshots echo through the building. One, two, three, with no return fire. The alarm shuts off, as if the shots had deactivated it. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Well, I was upstairs, but still helpless. I try to slip out from the loop of cable, but it was cinched tightly against my wrist. With a snarl of frustration, I pull at the cable. My limbs were still not responding quickly, but I concentrate hard, and before too long, the cable mount pulls away from the floor. I look at the thing in disbelief. What the heck? How did I do that? I hear another gunshot. I try to run, but wind up walking into the office where the computer was, as that room had no windows and was entirely dark. Better to stay on the more familiar floor than risking the hazards of gunfire or a less familiar floor. I crouch in a dark corner, back up against the wall, waiting for the gunfire to stop. It always does. Eventually.

While I wait, I pull at the cable chain. Now that it was free of its anchor, the chain had loosened, and I was able to remove it from my wrist. I rub my wrists, more out of habit than a need to restore circulation. After all, dead people don’t have circulation, right?

I hear someone approaching the door to the stairs. Someone was coming. But who? Was it Greywolf or someone else entirely? And here I didn’t have a weapon. But then again, maybe I did. I reach for the cable chain that had been my restraint only a few moments ago. I could use that as a weapon. I could strangle anyone that got too close. But wait, what if the assailants were Kindred? Greywolf said that there were few things that could harm us. Or did he say kill? Now I do not correctly recall.

The door opens, and I hear giggling. Not the cheery giggling of a young girl, but rather, something more malevolent. “Come on Charlie.” One of them says. “There’s a whole ‘nother floor we can trash.” I peer around the corner. There were two of them. Where the hell was Greywolf? Shouldn’t he be here protecting me? I still felt sluggish, like I was moving through jello. I hear a clattering of plastic, a sound like a can of aerosol hairspray being shaken up.

“Can we smash some of the windows up here?” One asks. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Give me that bat.” I am startled as I hear the sound of something metallic clattering to the ground. Aluminum bat, not wooden. “You know the rules. We can trash the place, but we can’t break any windows. Otherwise Marcel says he’ll make us pay for the windows. He’s got an easy payroll deduction plan if you’re interested.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” The other complains. Looking at the wall facing me, I can see that the lights had been flipped on, as the shadows had suddenly lightened. I hear footsteps. Heading in my direction. But I was so very lethargic; I didn’t feel like moving an inch, even though I knew that I could be in great danger. I hear a hissing sound, followed by more shaking. “Fuck. I told ya we shoulda stolen another can of spray paint. This one’s toast.” The can bounces against a wall and starts to roll. I hear a gunshot, and a ping as the bullet hits the can, sending it to collide with the wall again.

“Dude, that was an AWESOME shot!” The other exclaims. There is another shot, and another ping. Obviously, in typical macho fashion, the guy had to prove that it wasn’t just a lucky shot. So damn, he had pretty good aim. Wonder if he could bulls eye a womp rat from five meters, just like Luke Skywalker. Personally, I liked Han Solo better. As if in answer, I hear another shot and a pop across from me. I let out a shriek and look over, and the monitor was now a dull gray-brown, with a neat bullet hole in the exact center of the monitor. Through the hole, I can see sparks coming from the injured machine.

“Hey, you just hear that? Sounded like a scream coming from that room.” Crap. I should have run when I had the chance. I slowly pull myself to my feet. I could use the chain as a whip. Maybe I could get away from them.

“Well, then that’s a bit more fun for us then, isn’t it?” The pair starts to approach the room. I try to prepare myself for the battle to come.

I hear the door open a second time. “Leave…her…alone, boys.” I hear a shuffling sound as something heads toward them. It sounded like Greywolf’s voice, but he didn’t move like that. Was it really he? I wasn’t sure.

“Now lookie who’s come back to play with us. Ready for another beating?” I hear the sound of something or someone slamming against the wall, along with laughing. While they are distracted, I start to make my way to another part of the room. I could only manage the equivalent of a fast walk. What the heck was wrong with me? I hear more scuffling. And even though Greywolf had not been entirely kind, I can’t bear to see him harmed. The two guys had gotten the better of him, it seemed, because one was holding Greywolf while the other used him as a punching bag.

Instead of making a break for it, I go over to where the fight was. Lucky for me, they were distracted, because they didn’t see me until I grabbed the arm of the guy that was doing the punching. “That’s enough.” I order, somehow finding an ample supply of courage. My muscles were starting to loosen a bit, and I felt like the heavy fog was starting to lift from my body.

The guy was a bit winded. I could tell by the sound of his breathing. Of course, that also meant that the guy wasn’t Kindred, and I was hoping the other one wasn’t either. The guy pulled himself out of my grasp. “Fuck off.” He told me, and went back to beating on Greywolf, who was unable to do anything. Neither of them must have considered me a threat, because they were ignoring me. In fact, they were laughing at me. I was feeling and seeing red, and I felt my body separating from my more rational self as my instincts took over. Bastards! I’ll show them.

I called upon the self-defense classes I’d taken in college, and remembered that if one was not able to escape, and the assailant had no weapon, the first goal was to disable the attacker. There were two of them, so I aim my first attack at the aggressor of the pair. I run at the guy, and once I make contact, I continue pushing him so that he hits the wall. I bring my knee up hard and fast, hitting him in the vulnerable groin area. With a grunt of pain, he reflexively doubles over, which allows me the perfect opportunity to bring my hands together and hit him on the back of the neck, just like my instructors had taught me back in school. He drops like a rock.

The other guy stops laughing. He lets go of Greywolf, and starts to back toward the wall. I watch him carefully. I lunge at him, and he cringes. He looked like he was about to pee his pants. “D-Don’t kill me.” He raises his hands to chest level.

Greywolf comes to stand next to me. “You’ve had your fun, Randy. Now take your friend and get the hell out of here.”

The guy, Randy starts to help up the other one, who must have been Charlie. “Marcel’s gonna be pissed.” He looks at both of us.

“Tell the Prince I’ll come see him tonight.” Greywolf replies. “Now leave.” We watch the two men head down the stairs, and we follow, with Greywolf taking the lead. The adrenaline buzz must have been starting to fade, because once again, I was feeling sluggish, and movement was still difficult. As the pair reaches the door to the first floor, Greywolf puts a hand in front of me, blocking my progress. “Wait.” I stop, and watch the door closing behind them.

I give Greywolf a what the hell? sort of look. He looked like hell, too. The beating seemed to have taken its toll on his face, and the bruises would probably be pretty nasty,

“It’s still light out.” Greywolf warns. When they open that outer door, the sunlight will come in.”

Still light out? I thought we slept during the day. “What do you mean it’s still light out?”
I hear the bang of the outer door. Greywolf then opens the door to the first floor. It didn’t seem quite so dark as it was last night.

Greywolf looks at his watch. “It’s only one in the afternoon, my dear.” He told me. While we do sleep during the day, we can be awakened, but our bodies react very slowly, which makes us very vulnerable indeed. Which is why a good security system is so important.”

Didn’t seem to work so great this time. “So who were those guys? I know they weren’t Kindred. I could hear them breathing.”

“They are some of the Prince’s ghouls. Prince Marcel sometimes likes to send them to raid a Kindred’s haven during the day. One reason why it’s a good idea to keep the location of your haven a secret.” He grabs my shoulder and spins me to face him. “But even so, we are not allowed to hurt them…too much. Even though he will suffer no permanent damage, you may have gone a bit too far. But then, neither are they allowed to do this much damage to one’s haven. Which is why we are going to see the Prince tomorrow. To formally present our grievances. And to formally present you.”

“Me?” I ask. “The tradition thing?”

Greywolf nods. “All Camarilla Kindred are required to present themselves to the Prince of the City. And though I’m not sure that you are entirely ready, we can only hope that you are.” He looks me up and down. “You did at least manage to break free of the cable leash. It is rather common for Kindred gifts to work during times of great frustration or fear. The real question is whether or not you can do it intentionally. That takes time and practice, and you will have opportunities to do both soon enough.”

But when? I wonder. Greywolf had promised me a great deal, but I had yet to see anything come of it. I’m not even entirely sure why I tried to protect him. I liked him, and yet I hated him, all at the same time. Sort of like the relationship I used to have with my father, though with a difference: I can’t recall a time when I actually loved my father.

Greywolf had a firm grip on my arm and was leading me back up the stairs. He opens the door and leads me back to the mattress. I look at him, and the red welts and marks on his face were entirely gone from his pale skin. “The marks. They’re gone.” I put a hand on his face, wondering what had happened. His skin was neither warm nor was it cold.

“Kindred can heal normal wounds very quickly.” He told me. “All it takes is blood.” Normal wounds? What would abnormal wounds be? “Now then, Raven, go back to sleep. We should be safe for the rest of the night, but it will be the last time we stay here.”

I get back onto the mattress and curl up into a fetal position. Greywolf takes a seat on a nearby chair, facing me, watching me. I was already feeling very sleepy. I could barely keep my eyes open.

Cutting it Close...

2004-12-01T00:01:00.000-08:00

Okay, well, the last week of Nanowrimo was not without its setbacks. Turkey Day and the travelling involved seriously cut into my writing time, and so did being sick on Friday and Saturday.

Fortunately, I was able to catch up a bit on Sunday, so when Tuesday rolled around, I was able to finish my novel...a few hundred words short of 50,000. I then went back and re-read the first few chapters, and was able to add enough words to make the count and the deadline with an hour to spare.

Whoo hoo!!! I did it!!!

There are still six chapters left to publish, and I intend to go back through the novels and work on revising it a little at a time.

Chapter Nine

2004-11-24T19:44:00.000-08:00

Chapter Nine
Hunter as Hunted

At the behest of his latest employer, Malik had been keeping an eye on Greywolf. He had been consorting with one of the Anarchs of late, a woman by the name of Anne Bonnie. Tonight though, he was in the company of a different woman. After a while, he realizes that he’d seen pictures of this woman before. It was Mara Ravenclaw, who Greywolf had asked him to investigate three years ago. And from the looks of things, he was helping her take some furniture to a consignment place. As Greywolf drove through the city, even Malik, who considered himself a pretty good driver, had a tough time keeping up with him. The Brujah made numerous sharp, sudden turns, not bothering to signal. And Malik had been very careful not to follow too closely. Had he spotted me? No, I don’t think so, though in the sparse traffic of the early morning hours, it was always hard to tell. Even so, Greywolf never changed his driving pattern. Even so, Malik lost sight of the car before they left downtown. Cursing, he decides to back track and return to the apartment. Having done research on Ms. Ravenclaw, he had an idea where she lived, assuming she hadn’t moved in the past three years.

Malik parks his car a couple blocks from the building. The Cherryview Apartments were rather average apartments, by Seattle standards, though its proximity to downtown meant that the community was gated, and the first floor windows featured black wrought iron bars. That posed a bit of a quandary. How to gain access to the building? At this late hour, there was little foot traffic going into or out of the building, which would let him enter the building behind someone, and picking the lock could prove risky if the complex had 24-hour surveillance and security. And based on the camera just above the entry door, it was more than likely that it did. Another problem was that her apartment was actually on the third floor of the building, which meant that since the complex featured no balconies or patios, the only real entry or exit was her front door, which was located inside the building.

As if in answer, an older gentleman comes out from the locked pedestrian door. He was bundled up tightly against the cold and leading a small black Scottie dog on a red leash. He looked like he would have preferred sleeping to taking the dog for a late-night potty break. What luck. Malik gets out of the car and closes the door quietly. He calls upon his powers of Obfuscation, and then waits by the door, watching the man and his dog. He did not want to follow them, because while mortals were susceptible to Obfuscate’s mental clouding, animals were not. Not only could they smell vampires, they could also sense that they were somehow different from humans, and would balk from all but a few vampires that were either lucky or had the gift of Animalism. While the dog moves quickly on its stubby little legs, it takes its time finding the spot it wants. The man offers the dog encouragement, but it does not seem to have any effect. Finally, the dog lifts its leg and pees on a mailbox. Malik chuckles silently at the dog’s lack of respect for the U.S. Postal Service.

The man yawns. “Okay Jock, time to head home. Daddy needs to go back to bed.” The dog seems to listen and scurries back toward the front door. Malik steps out of their way, being careful to stand downwind lest the dog catch his scent. He watches the man unlock the door, and Malik is quick to follow behind them, as the discipline of Obfuscate did not allow one to touch anything while using it, lest the effect be broken. He pauses a while, allowing the man and his dog to go ahead of them. Now that he was in the building, time was not quite so critical, though he did have to be mindful for the approach of dawn. Malik takes the stairs to the third floor, and finds Mara Ravenclaw’s apartment with little trouble, for it was clearly marked and directly across from the stairs, a good thing when one needed to make a fast exit. I wonder if Miss Ravenclaw chose the apartment for its security and proximity to the exit, or if she had simply gotten lucky. If the former was the case, he had greatly underestimated her.

Malik takes out a small black case only slightly longer and thicker than the average credit card. He opens it up, revealing a set of lock picks. These were highly illegal to possess, but he wasn’t a cop anymore, and in his line of work, they were sometimes very useful for getting into places. Sure, it was technically breaking and entering, but what did that really matter to a vampire? As long as you didn’t get caught by the cops, it was all good. He takes out the lock picks and chooses a couple, then checks the lock. Luckily, it was an older building, and the locks had not been retrofitted with deadbolts. The lock should be easy to open. He inserts the two picks and works them into the lock. Within a matter of seconds, the lock’s tumblers give way, and Malik opens the door. Smiling, he puts the picks away and steps inside.

The apartment had been totally stripped. There was no furniture evident, not even a phone. Malik opens the cupboards and the refrigerator. Both had been emptied. The place had been cleaned out so thoroughly, there wasn’t even a scrap of paper. It was obvious that they probably wouldn’t be coming back here anytime soon. Well, there were other ways to find someone. For example, one had to give a forwarding address for a final utility bill. Luckily, he had a contact that worked for Qwest, the local phone company. And fortunately, this one worked the graveyard shift.

Malik heads back to his car, being careful to lock the apartment when he leaves, lest it raise any suspicions and possibly get the police involved. Without turning on the light, Malik takes out his cell phone and dials his contact’s number. He hears the phone ring several times and an automated system picks up. “Yo, you’ve reached Sparky. You know what to do.”

“Hey Sparky,” Malik says. “Jack Dempsey here. I need to get a forwarding address on a customer. I’m going to be around until 4:00 this morning. Give me a call before then, or call me after 6:00 tomorrow. P.M., not A.M.” Malik pushes the End button on the phone and drives away. If Ravenclaw has fled, then with any luck, she and Greywolf are together, assuming he hasn’t killed her and dumped her body somewhere. So then it is merely a matter of knowing where he is. The Brujah feeding grounds are located in the Industrial District, so his haven is more than likely located somewhere inside it.

The hour was growing late. Dawn would be approaching before too long. And he would have to make a report before too long. He drives back to his own small apartment, which also was located downtown, with a stunning view of Interstate 5. He pulls into the underground garage and takes the elevator up to his apartment on the fifth floor. Malik unlocks the door and tosses the keys on the small table near the door. He then goes back to the door and locks the four locks, including the chain. Malik feels something circling his ankles. He looks down and sees it is his pet cat, Snack. He picks up the cat and strokes its grey and black fur, and scratches it behind the ears. The cat closes its eyes and stretches out its neck, purring.

Still carrying the cat, Malik heads to the second bedroom that served as his alternate office. A metal desk had been set in there, along with a comfortable office chair, a computer, a metal filing cabinet, and a phone. Malik takes a seat in the chair and picks up the phone. Snack starts to knead Malik’s stomach, but soon makes himself comfy in his lap. He dials up his client. The phone rings once before it is picked up. The man on the other end says but a single word. “Reinhardt.”

“Reinhardt. Malik here.” His client, the current Kindred Sheriff of Seattle, was a Gangrel and a man of few words, and expected the same of Malik.

“What news do you have of Greywolf?”

“I saw him in the company of a woman tonight. It wasn’t the Anarch Anne Bonnie this time.”

“Who then?”

Malik decided to withhold that piece of information, as he didn’t want Reinhardt to realize that he had worked for Greywolf once upon a time. He wasn’t sure why Reinhardt wanted Greywolf watched. Maybe it was because even though Greywolf was a former Archon for a Toreador Justiciar, he still chose to associate with the Anarchs. Now, there certainly wasn’t anything wrong with the Anarchs. The Prince of Seattle didn’t consider them enough of a threat to kick them out of the city and allowed them to remain as long as they didn’t cause too much trouble. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure that she’s Kindred.”

“What are you sure of?”

“She moved out of her place and took off with Greywolf. I tried to follow him, but he lost me. I know he’s probably holed up somewhere in the Industrial District.”

“When’s the last time you saw him with Anne Bonnie?”

“Thursday night, actually. They were hanging out in some chop shop in the SoDo District along with a bunch of other Anarchs. I wasn’t able to get real close.”

“Keep me informed of what he’s up to, but stay out of the Industrial District. The Brujah have been complaining about too many Camarilla Kindred encroaching in their territory. They’ve asked for permission to bring any offenders to the Prince in a…less than intact condition, and the Prince is considering granting that request.”

“Sure thing boss.” Tangling with a Brujah was the last thing Malik wanted to do.

“Call me again tomorrow, just after sunset.” Before Malik can reply, the connection is broken.

Malik hangs up the phone and wiggles the plastic mouse attached to his computer. The dark screen comes to life. Snack gets up. He yawns, arches his back, and hops nimbly from Malik’s lap onto the desk and from the desk to the top of the monitor. The cat sits down on top of the monitor, letting his black striped tail hang down in front of the monitor screen.

Malik connects to the King County website, and heads to the Property records. He spends an hour scanning the records of properties in the Industrial District, looking for properties that hadn’t changed hands in more than twenty years, as it was usually a sign of either a corporation or the haven of a well-established vampire like Greywolf. He finds a small handful of warehouses fitting this requirement, but upon further investigation, they prove to be held by various corporations, including a couple held by Boeing, one of Seattle’s largest employers. Greywolf, it seemed, was rather good at covering his tracks. But one usually in order to make it past the first 50 years of unlife, much less make it past the one hundred years that granted a vampire the status of Elder.

Like many of the Seattleite Kindred, Malik was a rather new addition to the ranks of the Kindred, but unlike many of the newer licks, he had moved up here from Portland, Oregon after having a not so friendly disagreement with the Primogen of his own Clan, the Nosferatu. He had found out Malik had been working for the Seneschal, a fellow Nosferatu by the name of Anotah. It wasn’t really that he was mad that he was working for the Seneschal, but rather that neither had bothered to tell him or offer any of the interesting secrets he had been able to gather.

Well, he did have a list to work from. He could start driving around the Industrial District and check out each property on the list. It was possible that the Brujah might find him, but he planned to be very very careful, and minimize the risks of being seen. Malik prints out the list and listens to the whir of the printer as it spits out the paper. He pulls it off the printer and picks up Snack, wearing the cat almost like a fur collar. He puts the paper on the stand, and moves his keys to allow it to serve as a paperweight.

With Snack still draped around his neck and shoulders, Malik heads toward his bed. Out of habit, he pulls the blinds shut, even though the windows had been covered with several layers of masking tape and aluminum foil. Malik lies down on his bed. Snack takes up his usual position on the right-hand corner, curling up by Malik’s feet. Malik reaches across the bed to the battered brown fedora sitting on his nightstand. He sets it on top of his head, shielding his eyes and nose. It wasn’t the best protection against the sun, but it was better than nothing.

Chapter Eight

2004-11-20T08:58:00.000-08:00

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.

Chapter Seven

2004-11-17T18:42:00.000-08:00

Chapter Seven
Awakening

Pain. Pain everywhere. The pain ranged from dull aches to sharp, stabbing pains. The worst was in my head, which felt like every drop of water had been squeezed out of it. Actually, I felt dehydrated all over. I needed a drink of water. Oddly, though, I seemed to be laying in a pool of some sort of cold liquid. Was it water? I was so thirsty, I felt as if even the contents of a swimming pool could not slake this powerful thirst I had.

My senses were starting to return now. My sense of touch told me about the liquid, and my nose was assailed by a number of smells: the distinctive, unpleasant scent of fresh urine, the rusty scent of old blood, the mingled scents of rusted metal and grease, with a slight hint of car exhaust. And though I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes, I could listen and pay keen attention to the sounds I heard.

Nearby, there were few sounds to be heard, but outside, I was keenly aware of a few passing cars and of the whoop of the police car sirens as they drove past. But where was I? I couldn’t tell, and I couldn’t open my eyes. The lights overhead were too bright, and seemed like they were burning holes into me. Keeping my eyes closed tight, I try to move away, but I find that I couldn’t raise my arms. I am aware of the presence of some fuzzy material surrounding my wrists, restraining me and holding me fast. Lying on the table, I felt vulnerable and naked, even though I was fully clothed. Had I been raped while I was unconscious? No, it didn’t seem like it.

“What the fuck is going on?” I demand, though there were no signs of life in this place, wherever it might be. Why was I here? Even more importantly, why was I still alive? I’d thought I was done for in that alleyway and that my life had come to an abrupt and violent end. I guess I was wrong. But I couldn’t feel a needle in my arm, which would indicate that I was hooked to an intravenous drip and thus recovering in a hospital. But if I wasn’t in a hospital, where the hell was I? And more importantly, why?

I hear footsteps echoing through the place I was in. It was a large empty space and the sound seemed to carry well, especially since it was the only audible sound inside the building, though I could easily hear the cacophony of the sounds outside. Wherever that might be. The harsh lights start to dim, and I open my eyes slowly. My eyes start to adjust to the light, but since I am held in a prone position, my field of vision is limited. The ceiling is very high, and there is no outside light of any sort coming in. I see windows above me, but even in the gloom, I can see that the glass had been painted over.

“Welcome back, my dear Raven.” I try to turn my head and look for the speaker, but it seems he is beyond my now limited ability to see him. The voice belonged to a man, that much I was sure of. I feel him near me and I get chills traveling down my body and shudder involuntarily. He had to be standing very close to me, but yet I could not see him.

I gather up every little bit of courage I had left. Who was this guy and what did he want? “My name is Mara Ravenclaw.” I reply. “And I demand that you let me go. People will come looking for me.”

The man’s laughter is chilling. I wasn’t going to leave here alive. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Even so, no one will come looking for you until at least Monday, and it will probably take even longer before someone bothers to search for you.” Shit. He’d called my bluff. “I’ll make you a deal though. I’ll release you from the restraints, but you have to stay here.”

“All right.” I lie. I wanted nothing more than to get out of this place and get back home. I wanted to put this whole ugly memory behind me.

The man starts to undo the straps and I can finally see his face. To no surprise, it was the man I’d seen at the bar last night. The one that didn’t seem to belong at the Cock. But for some odd reason, I didn’t feel threatened by him, but rather a feeling that this was someone I could trust. He loosens the second strap, and I can finally rise from the table. I rub my wrists to restore the feeling to them, and take stock. I raise one hand to my neck. There was no sign of any sort of wound. Though last night, I could have sworn that I’d been injured. Was it all in my head?

I look down at my clothes. A brown smear of something stood out on the stark white on my blouse. My navy skirt was wrinkled, and the pantyhose were totally unsalvageable. Another three dollars down the drain. My shoes were gone. Damn, I liked those shoes. And they went so well with the suit. The suit. Renee had warned me about burning it. Maybe I should have listened. My nose catches a scent, and I sniff the air out of instinct. Blood. That was what I smelled. It was nearby. The blouse. Maybe that was it. I am able to unbutton the cuffs, but after undoing two buttons, I pull at the blouse, sending buttons to clatter onto the floor. I take the blouse and hold it up to my face, taking a long whiff of the stain. Yes, that was where it was coming from.

I hear a snicker, and am hit with a sudden burst of modesty. Still holding the blouse, I cross my arms to cover my breasts and the beige satin bra I was wearing. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” He replies. “You are still a slave to your baser instincts. But that should pass after the first time you properly satisfy your hunger. You are still very hungry. I can see it on your face.”

How did he know that? I could feel a pain in my stomach. I can’t ever recall being this hungry before. It was a sensation stronger than monthly cramps, a feeling like something was clawing at my insides. It was all I could do to not give in to it.

“Fortunately, my dear Raven, I will not force you to hunt for your first meal. That lesson will come later.” He makes a move to touch my face and I pull away. His face does not register a change of emotion. He gets up and retreats into another corner of the building. I start looking for a way out. I must be in a warehouse of some sort, because I can make out a large sliding door, the huge metal door was totally shut, and the van that I had seen last night was parked in front of it. I get off of the table, and my legs are shaking so badly that I can barely remain standing. A metal folding chair had been left nearby, so I sit down quickly. It seemed that I wouldn’t get real far if I tried to escape. What had they done to me? I felt as weak as a newborn kitten.

From somewhere in the building, I can hear a refrigerator opening, and judging by the sound, it was a fairly small one. The door closes, and before long, I observe the man walking back towards me carrying what looked like…no it couldn’t be…was that a unit of blood? He looks at me and with one hand, grabs a second folding chair from somewhere out of the shadows and comes toward me. When he gets within a couple feet, he tosses the bag to me. I barely catch it, and the awkwardly shaped thing nearly falls out of my lap. I look at it, and sure enough, it was a unit of blood. What sort of crap was this? I look at the man accusingly, and all he does is shrug.

But still, I was hungry, and for some reason I’d gotten it into my head that this would satisfy the hunger I felt. Blood? Sure, lawyers had a reputation for being blood-suckers, but this was totally ridiculous. But I wanted it. No, I needed it. I lift the bag and turn it around. The bag should have been very cold, but to my sense of touch, it didn’t seem that way. And I wanted it so badly, but how was I supposed to get it? There was no tubing attached to it, and it seemed to be tightly sealed.

My instincts once again started taking over. I felt something move in my mouth. I tentatively use my tongue to explore it, and encounter needle-sharp points that had to be fangs. Fangs? I had fangs now? I bend down and bite the bottom of the bag, then start to drink from it. As I feared, it really was blood, but even though it was cold, it was extinguishing the raging hunger I felt. I feel the liquid running down my throat, tasting both salty and metallic at once, but as much as I try to pull away, I cannot. I had to feed.

At last the bag is empty, and I feel satiated, like a flea after a good meal of dog or cat blood. I look around, and the guy had been watching me the entire time. I had just drunk human blood and enjoyed it. I had fangs. None of this was making any sense. In my confusion, only a single word comes to mind, and I manage to get it out. “Why?” With that word out, I find my tongue once more. “Why did I just do that? Why did I just enjoy it?”

“You did what was necessary to survive.” His words are like an icy dagger, each one piercing my heart and chilling my already cold body. Cold? I didn’t feel cold, even though I’d removed my blouse, and no goosebumps had formed on my skin. The large warehouse didn’t seem to be heated, and on a cold rainy November night, I should feel cold. But why didn’t I?

I felt a bit stronger though, so I get up and try to look for another exit. I started walking away from the table and away from the van. Surely the garage was not the only way out. The man seemed to have noticed my confusion, and read my very thoughts, because he blocked my path. “You can’t go back to your life, Raven.” He tells me. “Because you are no longer alive.”

My eyes widen in shock and fear. “Wh- what do you mean?”

“Have you not noticed yet? You are dead, Miss Ravenclaw. You have no pulse, no breath, no warmth, no heartbeat.” My hand goes to my neck, trying to feel for a pulse. Nothing. I try another spot. Perhaps in my haste, I’d missed the pulse point. Still nothing. I raise my hand up to my mouth. When I exhaled, my breath still lacked its normal warmth. So I was breathing! The guy was lying! But when I stopped concentrating on my breath, my chest no longer rose and fell. “You have joined the ranks of those no longer living, more commonly known as the Undead.”

It started coming back to me. I could remember the attack in the alleyway, the slowing of my heartbeat, and thinking that I was going to die. “I- I remember being attacked, that woman, she drank my blood didn’t she?” I look around frantically for her, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Was that good? I wasn’t sure. To be honest, I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. My life, it seemed, was over.

“Yes. We are Kindred, Raven. What the humans, or kine, more commonly call vampires, and we must feed upon blood in order to survive. Monsters we are lest monsters we become.”

I shook my head. Those last words sounded like a piece of fortune cookie philosophy, and like most fortune cookie sayings, it made no sense to me. “I’m a vampire? And you are too?” The man nods the answer to both questions. “So that means that I have to avoid the sun, crosses and garlic bother me, I won’t cast a reflection, and I can’t go into someone’s house unless I’m invited in?”

He laughs a little. “Those are old wives’ tales, my dear. Garlic and crosses typically have no effect upon our kind, I brush my hair in front of the mirror each night upon rising from my bed, and I do not need an invitation to enter someone’s house.” He offers me an unkind smile. “But the sun, now that is our mortal enemy. The sun can and will kill us if we are not careful. There is much for you to learn my dear, and that is why I am here. To teach you the ways of our kind.”
He gestures back toward the chairs. “Go back and sit down.”

Strangely, I obey. He was going to teach me what exactly? Were there some strange customs or traditions they practiced? “How did this happen?” I ask. I wanted to know. I think.

“First off, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is John Grayson, though you will call me Greywolf from this point forward. The woman that bit you, her name is Anne Bonnie. She was feeding and it went too far. She took too much blood from you. She tried to fix it by giving you some of her own blood, so you could heal yourself, but it was too late, you were too far gone. So you became one of us instead. A most unfortunate mistake, but I suppose now you must make the best of it. Few kine are allowed the gift of immortality.”

The gift of immortality? I was thinking it was more like a curse and that the price was far too high. “So you’re saying that all the old tales about vampires aren’t true except for sunlight and fire? And if the sunlight thing is true, how am I supposed to keep my job? My boss gives me flexible hours, but they’re not THAT flexible.”

The man named Greywolf smiles. “You can’t. You’ll have to quit.”

I look at him, eyes wide. I’d never quit anything in my entire life. And now I had to quit my job? That was crap! I bet he was just telling me this. I probably could walk in the sun, and could continue working. “I’m not quitting. The law is my life. There are too many people that need my help.”

“Then you’ll be fired for not showing up. But there are other ways to help people, my dear. The city has a need for a lawyer that is willing to help those who don’t have the means to hire one. And if you opened your own practice, you could set your own hours. I can help you, if you will only trust me.” He extends his hand toward me, the first time he had actually tried to touch me.

I did trust him. I wasn’t sure why. I take his hand. There was no warmth in it, though again, my own body was barely warmer than the room itself. “All right, so help me.”

“All in good time, my dear. As a Kindred, you have nothing but time.”

I shrug. I had time, but yet I couldn’t work anymore.” A rush of emotion washes over me as I realize that my life as I knew it was now over. I lower my head, overcome by grief for the first time since I’d lost my gran. I feel tears welling up in my eyes, but do nothing to suppress them. I feel the tears running down my cheeks, the liquid slightly warm. My nose remains clear. Odd really. Usually if I cried, my nose would start running too. It was some sort of sympathetic reaction or something.

Greywolf releases my hand and tilts my head up towards him. He wipes the tears from my face and holds up his hand. There was a watery red liquid on it. “Another hazard among our kind.” He tells me. “We do not cry real tears, but instead blood. If you cry too much, you could lose all of the blood stored within your body, and that would be very bad indeed. And more importantly, you should never, ever cry in front of a kine. It demonstrates your weakness, and raises far too many questions that you cannot answer.”

I nod, and raise my head to look at the ceiling, knowing that it would stop my tears. It was a trick I had been forced to learn as a young girl, as my cruel father did not tolerate tears. Happiness was required when his guests were around and when he came to my bed; it was only when he was at work or in the darkest hours of the rare nights he allowed me to sleep alone that I could cry without fear of a either a vicious beating that left no visible bruises or a merciless fucking.

My eyelids were starting to feel heavy. I was barely able to keep my head up anymore. I blink my eyes, trying to fight off the sleepiness. I notice Greywolf looking at his watch. “The sun will be rising soon. Kindred instinctively start to feel sleepy upon the sun’s approach, so it is a good idea to find a safe place to sleep for the day, what we call a haven, long before that. Because once the sun rises, you will be asleep, no matter where you might be at the time.”

That explained why the windows had been painted over. It was to keep out the sun during the day. This place must be Greywolf’s…haven? Was that what he called it? I get up and look around the warehouse for a suitable place to sleep. There was the table, but there was a pool of brownish liquid on it. That was what I had been laying in? Yuck!

Greywolf puts a hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him. He didn’t seem sleepy. Why? I didn’t really feel like asking him. Right now, I really wanted to curl up and go to sleep. “Forgive me, but I do not often use this place for sleeping, so it is a bit…lacking in the creature comforts that modern mortals are accustomed to. There is a mattress in the van if you would like to sleep there.”

I look at the mattress. There was no sheet on it, and a large brown stain nearly overwhelmed the pattern, a stain that was more than likely blood. Upon closer examination, it was actually several stains commingled into one large one, as I could see the edges of each stain. None of them were fresh though, as all I could smell was old blood. But how I knew that, I did not know. Perhaps somehow, this change causes my senses to be heightened, sharpened somehow. In a weird way, it made sense. If vampires had to hunt for prey, then like all predators, they had to rely more on their senses than humans.

The mattress wasn’t my first choice. Hell, it wasn’t even my fifth choice. I would have rather been sleeping in my own bed. But in the end, it was better than sleeping on the cold hard concrete floor. My limbs were starting to feel heavy, my eyes nearly closing of their own accord. I lay down on the mattress and curl myself into a fetal position. I felt so vulnerable. The last thing I see before I close my eyes is Greywolf, who is using a large cell phone and talking to someone. He is too far away, so I can’t hear him, but he seems to be making plans of some sort.

Chapter Six

2004-11-14T13:00:00.000-08:00

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.

Chapter Five

2004-11-13T16:41:00.000-08:00

Chapter Five
Celebration Interrupted

It was finally Friday again. And better yet, I was finally able to see my desk again. We’d brought two new attorneys on board, which took a lot of pressure of the rest of us. And unless the new employees had thoroughly snowed both Renee, and me they both should stick around for a while instead of bailing at the first scent of a better paying job. And even better, Philip Magruder had gone up against Nick DiAmato, our former boss, and won. The whole office was going to the Cock to celebrate tonight. Even De Sade was invited. And more strangely, he’d actually accepted.

I was boxing up closed case files to ship back to Records Management, and since my mind was not otherwise engaged, it was replaying events that had happened earlier today.

The happiness of a Friday had been marred a bit. I had come in this morning like I always had, with my usual Grande Mocha Latte from Starbucks. Then Renee saw me. She looked almost like she’d seen a ghost. “Tell me that isn’t the suit you wore to my mother’s funeral.”

I looked down at the navy suit I was wearing. It was the suit. It was even the same blouse that I wore. The only thing different was that I was wearing the heels I'd had dyed to match the suit instead of flats “Okay, it isn’t the suit I wore to the funeral.” I lied.

Renee looked really annoyed. “Mara, I told you to burn that suit. Otherwise, the bad luck associated with the death will continue to follow you.”

I roll my eyes. “Please. It’s just a silly superstition. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

Renee stamps her foot. “It’s not silly!” She replies. “You’re putting yourself in danger, Mara. Promise me that you’ll burn that suit tomorrow.”

There was no way in hell that I would do that. However, I also didn’t want to piss off my best ally in the office either. “Look, I’m sorry. If it’s that important, I’ll burn it. But you’re buying me a replacement.”

Renee smiled finally. “Sure, we can hit Ross and Target tomorrow.” She offered.

Now, thinking back, while my answers seemed to placate Renee, she was still very angry, and gave me the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. She wouldn’t come near me, and whenever I came near her, even to talk, she would walk away. I’d finally had to call her on the phone if I wanted to talk to her, and even then, I was only able to elicit two or three words from her at a time. Damn, the suit thing must be really important to her.

I pick up the phone to call Renee again, then put it back on its cradle. Hell, what was I going to say? I’d already apologized once.

The phone rings, breaking me from my reverie. I pick it up. “Mara Ravenclaw.” I answer.

“Mara, it’s Renee.” Funny, I’d wanted to call her, and here she was calling me. “I’m sorry I got upset at you. I can’t really expect you to understand the importance of my culture’s traditions.”

“It’s okay.” I reply. “I can understand. You’re still getting over your mom’s death. I know how hard that is.” That, unfortunately, was the truth. I then attempt to deftly change the subject. “So, Renee, are you still going to the Cock with the rest of us?”

“The celebration of DiAmato’s crushing defeat? I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” She replies.

“Neither would I.” I reply. “I’m looking forward to it, actually. I’m walking straight over there after work.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Renee offers. “There’s safety in numbers.”

“Sure.” I hang up and get back to marking the box with a black Sharpie marker. I write on it “Return to Records Management – Cases to be Filed.” Then I haul the box into the hall and stack it on top of another box that is marked in a similar manner, headed for the same fate.

I survey my desk. There were only three thick files left on my desk now. They were some of my hardest cases, but they were also my newest. Murder cases. One had an overwhelming amount of evidence against him. Another was mostly a circumstantial case, and the last I could probably plead down to manslaughter, provided the client agreed.

I spotted another thick file sitting on a corner of my desk. I look at the tab. James, Quintel. Another murder case. But this one had been dropped because the witnesses against him had recanted their stories. Meaning they’d changed their mind about what they’d seen. James was a gang banger, so the whole thing stank of witness intimidation. Well, there wasn’t a lot that I could do about it, other than tell the D.A. what they already believed: that the witnesses had been threatened and intimidated into not talking.

Yes, it was true. Once in a while, we actually helped out the other side. But it was rare indeed.

Out of respect to Renee, I take off my suit jacket, revealing the white blouse with its neckline that offered a small hint at my cleavage. If she’s willing to buy me a new suit, I guess I would be willing to part with this one.

A little after five, Renee stops by my desk. She is carrying her black coat, getting ready to put it on. My eyes are drawn momentarily to the strip of black cloth around her left bicep. The black was very noticeable against the red silk of her blouse.

Renee had explained to me that the armband was a sign of mourning, and that the colors of the armbands depended upon what relation you were to the deceased. Strangely though, I’d seen Renee’s father a week ago when he came to visit Renee at work, and he hadn’t been wearing one. When I asked Renee about this, she told me that in her culture, husbands were not required to mourn the loss of their wives. I guess I will probably never understand the Chinese culture no matter how much I study it.

“So are you ready to go?” Renee asks.

I get up and start to put on my coat. I take my purse, but leave my briefcase. I can come and get it tomorrow morning, since I don’t live far from the office, and for once, I’m caught up on my paperwork. “I sure am.” Renee puts on her coat, covering the armband. We walk out of the building together, wishing the security guard a nice weekend.

When we get to the Black Cock, the place is pretty packed. But that’s not real unusual on a Friday night. The Cock usually changes the jukebox songs to 80’s favorites, and people come to dance. Friday is the time when college students, office workers and downtown residents all converge on the local bars for free food, dollar beers and maybe even a good lay. As for me, I just came for the free food and the company of my coworkers.

Luckily for Renee, and me a couple of our coworkers had headed out early and snagged a table for us already. We remove our coats in unison and set them on the back of the chairs we picked, and head for the buffet line.

While I wait my turn, I scan the room. It was the usual Friday mix of coeds and coworkers. Though there was one couple playing pool that didn’t really seem to belong. The woman was wearing a black leather halter-top that showed off both her cleavage and her flat stomach as she attempted her shots. Her provocative look was completed with a short black skirt and shiny leather boots that went up past her knees. Her companion, a man with long blonde hair, he looked oddly familiar. Like I’d seen him before. Did I know him? I don’t recall seeing him in the bar until tonight. Maybe I’ve seen him around the neighborhood. Though I can’t say I’ve seen a lot of the residents around here wearing leather.

The pair seemed to be keeping their distance from each other. Perhaps they were not lovers then. While the woman is taking another shot, the man hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his black jeans and ambles over to her. He gets close to the woman and says something to her. The woman then looks up and turns her gaze directly at me. Embarrassed at being caught staring, I turn away from the pair.

Renee leans over to me. “You okay, Mara?” She asks. I look at her and nod. I was fine. Just a touch embarrassed, that was all. Though I wasn’t about to tell her that.

When we get back to the table, there are three pitchers of beer on the table, and a glass beer mug set by each place. Our coats stood watch over our own empty glasses. I set down my plate of food and grab Roger Vance, who was sitting next to me. “What’s this?” I ask him.

“Marquis sprung for the beer. He wants to do a toast. You want me to pour you some?”

“Thanks. I can take care of it.” I reach for the pitcher and pour myself a glass of the amber colored liquid. I look towards Marquis, who is sitting at the head of the table. Only fitting really, since he was our boss.

Marquis gets out of his chair, revealing his modest height. I was actually a couple inches taller than him when I wore heels, so I’d put his height at close to my own five foot nine inches. He scans the table and our faces. “Everyone here?” He pauses a moment, seemingly taking roll call. “Everyone got a full glass?” In reply, we raise our glasses a few inches off the table. “Good.” He raises his glass high. “First, let me welcome the office’s newest recruits in the war for Justice. Mark Allen and David Gonzales.

The two stand up for a moment and sit back down quickly. I look to Renee, who sits on my left, and offer her a small shrug. The two hadn’t been the best qualified or the most ideal, in our opinions, but even so, they were capable attorneys and the final decision hadn’t been ours to make.

“But a toast to the man of the hour. Philip Magruder, who managed to reveal DiAmato’s overzealous prosecution of his client before he was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit.”

We all get up and raise our glasses. “To Magruder.” We reply. He was sitting across the table from me, and I could see the people next to him slapping him on the back, congratulating him. I had to hand it to DiAmato. He was a lousy boss, and as a Prosecutor, he loved to cut corners and skate the legal lines. This was the first time though that any of us had been able to call him on it, because there were two things he was really good at: choosing a jury that would get him a conviction, and getting the police to help him find evidence that would help their case against the suspect, no matter what the means. I was almost sad that he hadn’t stayed a P.D. I got over that quick.

We continue eating, drinking, and otherwise carrying on. After all, it was Friday night, so none of us HAD to go to work tomorrow (though some of us probably would choose to come in), so we could spend the morning sleeping in. As the waitress comes to take away the empty pitcher, I grab her by the sleeve. “Hey, could I get a cup of coffee?”

“Sure thing, hon.” The waitress replies. God, I hated when women younger than me called me hon. There was something just so terribly disrespectful about that. I watch her walk away, and notice that the woman in black leather was sitting alone at a booth. Her male companion was nowhere to be seen.

The crowd was thinning out a little bit too. The workers were starting to go home, and the college crowd, fueled by the cheap beer, was starting to get rowdy. Three of the women got up and started dancing with each other. A couple guys got up and started dancing with them, coming gradually closer to the women with each move until you couldn’t even slip a credit card between them as their bodies gyrated against each other. I turned away from their simulated sex acts. It was too disgusting for me to watch.

My coworkers didn’t give any signs of wanting to leave quite yet, and I didn’t want to be the first to leave the party. Actually, the way I was brought up, one wasn’t supposed to leave a party until the guest (or guests) of honor did. Magruder is getting ready to regale us with the tale of how he was able to triumph over DiAmato, so I swirl the dregs of the beer around in my mug and watch DiAmato intently and listen to him tell his story.

I must admit that I wanted to listen to the story, even though I’d already heard it once. There was just something so satisfying about hearing about DiAmato’s crushing defeat. So maybe that’s why I didn’t hear the guy coming up behind me.

I felt a tap on my right shoulder. It must have been Renee. Maybe she wanted me to walk back with her to the office. I start to turn, and catch a glimpse of Renee laughing and talking to Marquis at the head of the table. If it wasn’t Renee, then who was it? I looked up and I see a businessman with a bit of a five o’ clock shadow wearing a rumpled suit and a tie that was half undone and now hung loosely around his neck. I feel suddenly vulnerable and look towards my coworkers, who at the moment didn’t seem to notice my plight.

“Can I help you?” I ask. I get up from my seat, wanting to even the height disadvantage between us. He must have been oozing booze from his pores, because I can smell the odor hanging on him like cheap aftershave. I’d seen this guy at the Cock before. He was usually trying to pick up the ladies, and more often than not, failed miserably. Obviously, tonight, he’d decided to try his luck with me. Dumb move. I don’t give the Cock’s pick-up artists the time of day, assuming they choose to bother me at all. Thankfully, most of them considered female lawyers just a bit too intimidating.

He grabs my hand and starts to pull me away from the table. “Dance with me.” He asks.

I try to pull away. “Sorry, I’m afraid I’m not good at dancing.”

The guy pulls me in closer and farther away from the safety of my coworkers. I can feel his hot breath on me. “I think you’ll do just fine. And that outfit of yours will look real nice on my bedroom floor.”

I roll my eyes. Oh jeez, that had to be one of the worst pick-up lines I’d heard in a very long time. The music stops, and no new song starts. All eyes in the bar are now on the drama between the drunken guy and me. Crap. To be honest, there are few times when I like to be the center of attention. This is definitely not one of them times. Well, either I do this with an audience, or I continue to put up with the guy’s crap. I didn’t want to encourage the guy, so I step away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m really not interested.” I try to head back towards my coworkers.

The guy grabs my arm and pulls me back so quickly, I swore I might have gotten whiplash. “I see how you are, bitch. You’re not interested because you’re a fucking lesbo! You tease men with your short skirt and cleavage, and then say you’re not interested so you can laugh about it later with your dyke girlfriend. I say you just haven’t had a guy screw you properly.” He then grabs me and kisses me, forcing his tongue between my lips, probing my mouth. To say that it made me uncomfortable was an understatement. It reminded me of the darker times in my life.

I lost it. Right there and then. I ball my right hand into a fist, pull it back, and hit the guy. It knocks him flat on his ass, and the whole bar starts to applaud. The women seems to be the loudest among them, as most of them had suffered the guy’s unwanted attentions at one point or another. I start to walk back to the table and Renee is running in my direction. “Mara! Are you okay?”

I reach the table and grab my coat and purse. “I’m fine, but I’m getting out of here before things get worse.” I look over toward the bar. The bartender and the waitresses were getting back to their tasks, and no one seemed to be going for a phone. Not even the guy I just decked. “No. I should probably call the cops first.” I look to my coworkers, and call the cops. Just because we were lawyers didn’t make us above the law. And of course the last thing the office needed was a lawyer getting busted for assault.

“Police Non-Emergency. How can I help you?”

“Hi there. My name is Mara Ravenclaw. I’m at the Black Cock Pub on South Jackson Street. I just decked a guy that tried to attack me.”

“Is the man hurt?”

I look back at the man, who was making a quick exit from the bar. “Um, I don’t believe so. He’s walking out the door as we speak.”

“Do you know his name?”

“I’ve seen him in here before, but no, I don’t know his name.”

“Ma’am, the police are very busy tonight. If the other person involved has left and you don’t know who he is, I can’t dispatch an officer to take a report about a fight that isn’t currently in progress. However, I will keep your name and information, and if the gentleman presses charges related to this assault, we will call you.”

I give the dispatcher my name, address and phone number, along with my daytime phone number. Luckily for me, she didn’t recognize the number right away. Or if she did, she gave no indication.

Renee looks at me expectantly. “What did the cops say?”

I put my cell phone in my coat pocket. “They said they’re too busy to deal with taking a report if the fight’s not in progress and the guy’s bailed.” Most of the other ladies were starting to crowd around me. They were congratulating me, saying the guy deserved it. That didn’t really make me feel better. I mutter a few thanks and excuse myself, only to run straight into my boss, Mr. Marquis. Well, at least it didn’t happen on the premises or during work hours. He shouldn’t be able to fire or discipline me for this incident. I look at the floor, a bit embarrassed and ashamed at my conduct. I’d single-handedly managed to spoil the celebration.

“Ms. Ravenclaw.” I look up at him, and Marquis has a dark look etched on his face. “I understand the cops don’t plan to take a report about this incident.”

“No Sir.” I reply. “They said they were too busy.”

Marquis hands me a piece of paper. Well, not paper so much as a cocktail napkin with fuzzy scribbles in blue ballpoint. “Well, in case you need it, I got the names and phone numbers of the bartenders and waitresses working here tonight.”

“Thanks Mr. Marquis.” I take the napkin, fold it in half and tuck it into the side pocket of my purse.

“Look, kid. The guy made a move on you first, and kept up his pursuit even after you told him you weren’t interested. Hitting him might not have been the best choice, but what’s done is done. I’m not going to write you up or have you disbarred for something that you didn’t encourage or start.”

I nod and put on my coat, then put my purse over my shoulder. “I appreciate that Sir. I really do.” I guess my boss wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Then again, like me, he’s familiar with the pathology of rape, and the guy’s attack on me had all the hallmarks of escalating into that. If I hadn’t fought back, things could have gotten much, much worse.

“Go home and get some rest, Ravenclaw. I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.”

I nod and put on my best insincere smile. Then I head for the door. Renee stops me before I can make it. “Mara let me walk back with you.”

I shake my head. “Thanks, Renee, but I’ll be fine.” I open the door and start to head back to the office. But when I left the Cock and its brightly lit façade, the neighborhood seemed much darker than it was when I left my office. Surely, it couldn’t be that late. I look at my watch to see that it is really only eight o’clock.

The Cock’s parking lot, like the building itself, is brightly lit. The owners were very safety-conscious. Though that could likely be due to the fact that a female student had been raped in the parking lot five years ago. While the cops never found who did it, the victim had hit the bar with a civil suit for providing the unsafe conditions that led to the rape. It was rather sad really, that far too often, someone had to be injured or killed in order for corrective actions to be taken.

I pull my coat tight around me to ward off the cold wind, and clutch my purse close to my body to ward off any possible purse-snatchers. I begin making the walk back to my apartment. The Cock was only three blocks from my office, and my apartment was another five blocks away from that. It was an easy walk most of the time, though the trip was sometimes fraught with the occasional hazards of puddles, bicyclists and red light runners, to name a few.

As I get two blocks away from the bar, I feel a cold chill go up my body as I come to a realization. The guy had left the bar before I did, and I had no idea where he’d gone. For all I know, he could have been waiting for me in the parking lot. Of course, I’d passed the parking lot, and I didn’t see any sign of him. Shit, maybe I should have taken Renee up on her offer. I look at the streets around me, but there was no sign of lights. Not really any sign of traffic either, though Interstate 5 was just a few short blocks away.

I get to the Walthew Building, which is where my office is, and all the lights are off. I consider heading inside. I look around the darkened street and the closed up storefronts. It wasn’t this scary during the day. Why was it creeping me out now? I think about turning back, but my apartment wasn’t that far away now.

I reach the corner of Third Avenue and Cherry, and the light turns red before I can get up to it. Damn. I hate when that happens. This intersection had timed lights, so that even though there was no other traffic, I had to wait at the light. I suppose I could jaywalk across the street, but I didn’t want to risk getting a ticket. I’ve already escaped one brush with the police tonight, so it’s better not to press my luck.

While I wait for the light to turn, a vehicle pulls up to the crosswalk and comes to a gentle stop. I hear the van’s rumbling idle as I wait for light to change. I glance over. It was an older van. The nearby streetlight reflected upon the body, revealing a surface that was marred by several dents. The driver’s compartment was unlit, so I could barely make out the silhouette of the driver, and I certainly couldn’t see the person’s face.

I look back at the red light, and I hear the van’s panel door open. I have a very bad feeling, so I suppress my first instinct, which is to look inside, and instead start to run back down Third Avenue, heading back toward the Cock.

The van goes in reverse and speeds past me. It pulls up onto the curb just ahead of me. Before I can change directions, someone gets out of the van. I back away. Was this the guy from the bar, coming to get revenge? But wait, they were getting out of the open panel door, which meant that there was more than one of them. I retreat into the shadows, my assailant moves into the light. It is the strange woman I had seen in the bar earlier. She moves into the range of a nearby streetlight, and I can see her eyes. There is a strange look in them, the wild, dangerous look of a predator.

I’d just run two blocks, in heels no less, and was feeling a bit winded. Keeping my distance from her, I touch the building to try to gain a bit of support and catch my breath to possibly prepare for another sprint. “What the hell do you want?” I demand, pulling from my inner reserves of courage. The adrenaline started kicking in, and I didn’t feel quite so tired.

For a moment, the woman says nothing, but starts to move toward me in a languid manner, like a cat playing with a mouse. In the dim light, I can see a smile appearing on her face. One that didn’t seem very friendly. She speaks a single word. “Blood.” Shit, she must be the guy’s girlfriend, trying to even the score. I back away, towards the nearby alley, feeling around in my purse for my can of pepper spray, keeping an eye on her and not daring to look down to better look for it.

My fingers locate the cold metal cylinder, and I look down the alley in dismay. There was no other outlet save the way I came in. I wrap my hand around the pepper spray canister, but before I can pull it out, the woman has closed the gap between us in the passing of mere seconds. She pulls me farther into the alley and shoves me against the brick wall then grabs me by the collar of my blouse and pulls me closer to her. In the depth of the shadows I can’t see anything.

I gasp in surprise as I feel a sharp, sudden pain on the side of my neck. I let go of the canister, and it falls back into my purse, lost to me. Had she cut my throat? I didn’t feel any blood pouring down my clothes. I try to pull away, but the brick wall offers me no possible means of escape. She tightens her hold on me, pressing my body farther against the unyielding wall. I hear a strange sucking sound, and I instinctively tilt my head. I can feel blood rising to the site of the wound, but there is no warm gush of blood running down my blouse. What the hell? Is she sucking my blood?

I can’t move though. I feel suddenly warmed from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. A silvery feeling travels through me, and can no longer fight it, so I surrender to the feeling and cry out in ecstasy. So this is what good sex feels like. But now I there was another sensation, my limbs were starting to go numb and felt like leaden weights. And there was something else. Darkness. Blackness. Oblivion. I was no longer able to move, much less struggle, like a fly caught within a spider’s web. And this was one really big spider. Soon, the only thing I am aware of is the beating of my heart. It is beating slower, slower, and still slower. If this doesn’t stop soon, it would flat line. And I’d be dead. But the welcoming embrace of Death was so seductive. So this is it then. My life ends in an alleyway. I wasn’t ready, but what choice did I have?

Chapter Four

2004-11-11T23:36:00.000-08:00

Chapter Four
Funeral for a Mom

I had arrived at Washington Memorial Cemetery a little after six. Once again, due to the lateness of the year, it was starting to get dark already. I had already made my annual pilgrimage to the graves and delivered the pink roses to my mother and grandmother. And left one my business cards by my father’s plaque once again. For the first time in five years, I had to study the layout of the cemetery again, because the grave of Renee’s mother was actually in a different section.

The Chinese section of the cemetery was one of the hilliest sections, which the cemetery’s brochures had described as a ‘preferred’ and ‘traditional’ setting for Chinese funerals.

The grave of Jing-May Choi was set about halfway up the hill. The majority of the graves bore Chinese characters, and Jing-May’s, evidently was no exception to this. The only real indication of the location was the presence of the mourners. They were all holding long thin brown sticks and standing in front of a wizened man wearing a white robe adorned with many Chinese characters inked in black along its edges. I can only guess that he is the priest who will conduct the ceremony. As I get closer, I realize that they are incense sticks. I take a spot behind some of the other mourners, and it elicits a surprised look from a young man posted near the priest.

This section of the cemetery was actually quite close to the road, because that’s the direction the others were facing. I soon learned why. The hearse was actually traveling up the hill, and comes to a stop close to the open grave. Oddly, the family was following behind it, their heads leaning against the hearse. The door to the hearse is opened, and I see Renee’s oldest brother holding a long stick of burning incense and sitting next to the coffin. He gets out, and the pallbearers begin to take the coffin out. The remaining family members, oddly, turn away from the coffin. I look around and notice that the others around me have also turned away. Must be some weird tradition, so I followed suit.

The other mourners turn toward the road again to watch the coffin being brought up the hill. Renee’s father and brothers follow closely behind the coffin, followed closely by Renee and her sisters. The procession seems to be in order of age. The youngest daughter is carrying a basket with something red and white in it. After a while, the coffin is brought up and placed upon the grave. Renee and her family gather around the grave, but turn away from the coffin again. When the others turn away, I follow suit.

I hear the familiar sound of the electric motor lowering the coffin into the grave. This would mark the second time I have heard that sound. When my grandmother died, I watched them lowering the coffin into the grave. I watched each shovelful of dirt as it hit the coffin. I didn’t leave until they finished.

The priest begins to speak, and again, the others turn back toward the gravesite. I stare at Renee, whose grief has turned to wailing. Her sisters, including Wendy, soon follow suit. The priest’s invocations are barely audible over their cries of grief, but since the priest is speaking in Chinese, I suppose it doesn’t really matter whether or not I can hear him.

Finally, the priest stops speaking. Renee and her family each take a handful of earth and toss it into the grave. Each utters a few words in Chinese as they do so. Some, but not all of the other mourners also toss handfuls of earth onto the grave. I look to Renee for some sort of sign, but she does not offer me any. So I don’t step forward, but stand solemnly, my head down.

Anne, the youngest daughter, approaches me. She hands me something white, and then offers me an envelope of red paper. I remember seeing this the time I had been invited to their celebration of the Chinese New Year. The envelope contained money and was meant to help ensure good fortune for the year. The white object was a very soft hand towel. I put it and the red envelope in my purse, not really knowing what to do with it.

Renee is the next to approach me. She is no longer wailing, but the overhead lights reveal tears running down her face. She hugs me, and I awkwardly return the embrace. She whispers to me. “You have to spend the money in the envelope.” I pull away and look at her. “And you have to burn your clothes. To get rid of the bad luck.”

What the hell? This was my favorite suit! The skirt was the perfect length, and the jacket seemed tailor-made for me. And better yet, I’d gotten it for a song at Nordy’s half-yearly sale. There was no way that I would burn it. I manage to get out a single word. “Okay.”

Renee goes back to join her family. I follow her, in order to offer my condolences. The family seems to have formed a receiving line, with Renee’s grandparents in the front of the line, followed by her father, her brothers in order of age, and then Renee and her sisters. I greet each of the Chois in turn, bowing to each and offering my condolences.

Finally, I reach Wendy, the youngest of all of them. She looked different today. Her long black hair hung loose, unfettered even by the hair wraps she usually favored. Even her nose, which usually bore a stud earring of some sort, was left unadorned, and she too had discarded her normally colorful clothes for a modest black dress. I bow to her, and suddenly her eyes go wide with fright. I take a step back, wondering what I had done wrong.

Wendy grabs my hand. “Be careful on your journey.” She warns me. “One seeks to change your destiny, and you are in great danger of losing your soul.”

I pull away as if I’d been burned. I’d heard Wendy’s dire predictions for me before, but this was the first time she said I was actually in any sort of danger. “I’ll be fine. I’m pretty familiar with the graveyard.” I hoped that was enough to placate her, but I already knew that she probably wasn’t talking about my trip back to the car. She lets go of me, and I can feel her eyes on me as I leave the gravesite.

As I drive back to Seattle, I am haunted by Wendy’s words. Who would want to try to change my destiny? I was just a humble underpaid civil servant. All right, so my father had tried to establish my lot in life when I was a teenager, but in the end, I thwarted his plans. No, I am the only one that determines my fate now. My father couldn’t do it when he was alive, and even though he had used his will to try to extend his control over me after death, I found ways around it. For example, he’d made my access to my trust fund contingent upon my becoming a lawyer. And I had become a lawyer, just not the sort that he would have wanted me to be.

No, I wasn’t going to let Wendy’s warning scare me. So to celebrate what was left of my birthday, I went out and got a tattoo. Since my name is Ravenclaw, I decided to have a raven inked onto the small of my back. After all, I hear it’s a symbol of destiny, and it was high time I became mistress of my own fate again. While it hurt like hell, it wasn’t as painful as I thought it might be. But then again, all the guy did was the bird’s outline. I have to wait a few weeks before I can have the rest of it done.

Chapter Three

2004-11-09T19:11:00.000-08:00

Chapter Three
Changes in Attitudes

My desk phone was ringing. I sigh, and pick it up. What else could go wrong on a Monday? Well, at least the day was almost over. “Mara Ravenclaw.”

“Ms. Ravenclaw.” I recognized the voice in an instant. It was my latest boss, Jack Marquis. We called him “De Sade” behind his back, but Sir to his face. And unfortunately, he didn’t appear to be planning on packing it in any time soon. “Do you have a moment? I need to speak with you.”

“Sure. I’ll be right there.” I reply and hang up. Crap. This was all I needed on my birthday. The third anniversary of my twenty-ninth birthday, to be exact. I look at the papers piled on my desk, the vase of pink roses that sat nearby. Well, my case reviews will have to wait until after I’ve had a chance to speak to his majesty. I negotiate the maze of cubicles and stride into Marquis’ office right behind Renee Choi. Huh? What the heck? Why has he called both of us into his office?

I look at Renee, who is wearing head to toe black today. Black suit, black blouse, black hose, black heels, and even black earrings. She was going to a funeral at Washington Memorial Cemetery this afternoon. Sadly, her mother had died in a car accident two days ago. The guy had hit her and then taken off, leaving her to die at the scene. The cops had caught up to him eventually, and booked him on charges of vehicular manslaughter and driving under the influence. Renee looks back at me. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and the black mascara that had run down her cheeks now marred her normally flawless makeup job. That prick De Sade had refused to give Renee the time off, saying that we were too busy because we were short-handed.

I offer a small smile and gesture to the door to Marquis’ office. “Ladies first.” I offer. Even though I was female, I didn’t consider myself a lady. Renee walks in and I follow.

Behind the oak desk, Marquis was on the phone. He looks up a moment, and covers the receiver. “Close the door and sit down.” He orders. Uh oh. There were few things worse than closed-door meetings with the boss. I again glance at Renee as I close the door. Renee sits down. She takes a wadded up tissue from her pocket and dabs at her eyes. I put a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer her what comfort I could.

I glare at Marquis. He was making us wait to throw us off balance. I study the deep lines in his forehead, and his short cropped salt and pepper hair. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. He was trying to do his job, just like I was trying to do mine. However, denying Renee bereavement leave was a shitty thing to do. We could have done without her for three days.

Finally, Marquis gets off the phone, and looks at us. “Choi. Ravenclaw. Thanks for coming.” His gratitude seemed as phony as a three-dollar bill, but I tried to hide my utter contempt. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have caught on. “I have good news and bad news for you.” He tells us. “The good news, Choi, is that Diego Garcia Rivera, the guy that hit your mother, isn’t going to need the services of the OPD. He’s hired his own counsel.” That had been a sore point for the last few days. If the guy couldn’t afford counsel, we were required to represent him, but on the other hand, since the victim’s daughter worked here, it was also a clear conflict of interest. I then wait for the bad news that was soon to follow. “The bad news is that Jeff Fisher quit this morning.”

Ah crap. That explained why I hadn’t seen him today. This made three attorneys we’d lost in a single month. That had to be some sort of record for this office. “How soon can we get replacements?” I ask. Our caseloads had been steadily increasing, and while the latest resignation was no surprise, it meant we now would have to handle even more work than before.

“The application notice was posted two weeks ago. The deadline to apply was today.” He replies. I try to hide my utter disgust. If today is the deadline, that meant we probably wouldn’t get any new help for at least a month, considering the long drawn-out process of applying and interviewing candidates. “I also put up a notice at the Gonzaga, Seattle University, Lewis and Clark and University of Washington campuses looking for paid legal Interns.”

Lewis and Clark. That law school was far to the south of us in Portland, and Gonzaga was in Spokane. If they were putting up notices there, they were indeed getting very desperate for help. I guess King County was finally trying to make an effort at granting defendants their Constitutional right to due process. I nod and try to change the subject. “What is the status of Fisher’s cases? Are there any that are due in court in the next week? Have the continuances been filed?”

Marquis picks up a stack of papers that had to be at least six inches thick. “Fortunately, Mr. Fisher had a knack for picking the easiest cases, and he managed to complete the majority of them. The remaining cases are the ones he inherited from Magruder and Vance. I’m assigning them to Harris and Nguyen.”

I stare at him in shock. He wasn’t giving us any cases??? That couldn’t be good at all. Marquis then sets the pile of papers in front of us. I can see by looking at them that they are standard King County Application for Employment forms. “These are all the applications we’ve received. I want you two to go through this pile, select some suitable candidates, and make arrangements with HR to schedule the first round of interviews, which the two of you will conduct. Select the best 6 of the interviewees, and refer them to HR, who will then arrange the second round of interviews, which I will conduct.

Renee is the first to speak. “Why us, Sir?” I had to wonder the same thing, actually. Usually, the person in Marquis’ job made all the hiring decisions.

“Ms. Choi, of all the attorneys currently in the department, you and Ms. Ravenclaw have been here the longest.” He replies. “I want to start seeing a bit more longevity in the attorneys here, so I’m hoping that you can recognize similar qualities in the prospective candidates. It’s time to put the revolving door to an end.”

For once, Renee and I were speechless. In all the time I’d been here, both as an intern and as an attorney, I had never heard my boss utter those words. But then again, before Marquis’ arrival, they’d all been short-timers. I guess I’d better start learning to like my boss. And fast. I take the stack of papers and start to get up, hoping that the meeting was now over. “Thank you Sir, we’ll get to work right away.”

“You have two weeks to present the suitable candidates.” Marquis replies. “And do not let the interviews interfere with your court schedules.”

I inwardly shake my head. There would be lots of long workdays ahead of us. Such a pity that we weren’t hourly employees, because there’d be lots of OT paid out just in time for Christmas shopping. Of course, I didn’t have anyone to shop for besides my co-workers and boss. All my family was dead. “Of course, Sir.” I reply. I start to make for the door, carrying the papers. Thankfully, Marquis doesn’t stop me. Renee is quick to follow, and we start walking back to our cubicles.

Knowing that we were still in range of the boss, I slow my pace so I can catch up with Renee and whisper in a low tone. “Boy, aren’t we lucky? We get to pick the next batch.”

“I guess.” Renee replies. She looked miserable. I can’t say I blamed her.

Again I touched her on the shoulder. It was the most physical contact I’d had with any one person in a single day for several years. “Look, I know how hard it is to lose your mother.” We had reached my desk, so I set the papers on top of my inbox. You need to be at the cemetery soon. Why don’t you let me screen the candidates?”

Renee dabs again at her eyes with the tissue. “Thanks, Mara.” She replies.

I look to the vase of pink roses on my desk. They were my annual tribute to my mother and grandmother. Just then, I had a flash of inspiration. I reach for the vase. I could buy another dozen for my own ancestors later. “Here. Take these to your mother.”

Renee smiles and shakes her head. “Thanks, Mara, but flowers are not a traditional gift for a Chinese funeral. But I’d really like it if you came with me. My mother always thought highly of you.”

I did like her mother. Renee had invited me to a few of their family celebrations because she knew that I didn’t have any family. Her mother had always been nothing but kind to me, and I was always treated as an honored guest, if not as a daughter. I look down at my attire. I was wearing a navy suit with a white blouse, and flat shoes in anticipation of my evening trek to the graveyard. I suppose it was suitably dark enough to wear for a funeral. And the funeral was in the same cemetery, just a different section.

“Sure. I can do that.” I reply. “I suppose the applications can wait until I get home.” I instantly regret making that statement as soon as it leaves my mouth. “Separate cars?”

Renee nods. “I have to get back to my parent’s house actually. As eldest daughter, I’m required to be part of the funeral procession. It’s traditional.”

“Um, are there any traditions I need to be aware of?” I ask. Now I’m really starting to regret agreeing to go. But then again, I was going to the cemetery anyway. I put the applications in my briefcase and start to get ready to leave. I take the roses with me.

“Oh, you don’t have to bring those.” Renee says. “They look better on your desk.”

I smile sadly, and now feel forced to give Renee a glimpse into my private life. “I was going to deliver these to my mother and grandmother tonight.”

Renee looks at me, and the light suddenly goes on as she makes the mental connection. She smiles sadly. “So I’ll see you there. About 7:00.”
“Seven it is.” I reply. A strange feeling of déjà vu comes over me. I could swear that I’d told her that before. But then, we often met up after work for drinks and war stories.

Chapter Two

2004-11-08T23:44:00.000-08:00

Well, I had this finished a little bit ago, but Blogger wasn't letting me add posts. I've had some pretty good days, and actually did over 2,000 words a day on Saturday and Sunday.

Chapter Two
On the Trail

The office of Night Owl Investigations was not well marked. Only a small metal plaque that announced the business and pointed up a darkened flight of stairs was visible from Seventh Avenue, where the firm was located. It seemed that in order to hire this private detective firm, one had to also be a bit of a sleuth. The man had passed the building a couple times before he had finally found the small plaque. The address hadn’t been marked on the door, either. It was almost as if the company didn’t want to be found. But then again, in this world, where the long nights were always too short, you didn’t want to be found. Or found out.

The man pulls his black duster closer, but he does this out of habit rather than to avoid the bitterly cold November wind. Cold or rainy weather no longer bothered him; in fact it hadn’t bothered him in over two hundred years. For the man was actually no longer human, but rather one of the undead creatures that proudly called themselves Kindred, but were more familiarly known to mere mortals as the blood-drinking creatures called vampires.

After pulling open the metal and glass door to the stairs, the man begins his ascent towards the company. The stairs were carpeted with a brown carpet so thin that the speckled padding showed through in spots, and the drab beige paint on the narrow walls in the hallway was peeling off in long strips. But he wasn’t hiring this firm based on how nice the building was. No, he was hiring the small firm for two reasons: one, he was one of the best at digging up information on people, and two, because like him, the owner of the firm was a fellow Kindred. Sure, he was of another bloodline of Kindred or “Clan”, but his Clan, the Nosferatu were well known among the Kindred as the most skilled at gathering information. As an ex-cop, this particular Nosferatu, who had discarded his mortal persona for the name Malik, was one of the best.

If a Kindred in Seattle wanted information, or needed someone found, they went to him, because his success rate was about 85%, far better than the clearance rate of most human police detectives. But for a Nossie, he was pretty quirky. First of all, he insisted on pronouncing his name as “Mah-leek” instead of the more predatory sounding “Malick”. Secondly, he was a big fan of Humphrey Bogart and old thirties films. In fact, sometimes he would use his vampiric powers to make himself look like the handsome actor. But you couldn’t really blame him. There were thirteen distinct Clans among the Kindred, and with each Clan came a different curse. For the Nosferatu, it was a disfigurement of the face and body so bad that many no longer could pass as a human without either the use of either vampiric powers or a really good disguise.

The top of the stairs boasted only a single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. At the landing, there were three doors of age-darkened and unpainted wood, each marked with a pair of numbers painted in faded gold. The address of Night Owl was 13. For some, a very unlucky number, but Malik must not have been superstitious, because he could have easily chosen one of the other two offices, as both were marked with fading “For Lease” signs.

The man opens door number 13. He doesn’t bother to knock. Malik was expecting him, after all. He then looks around the tiny reception area. Except for the presence of the modern PC on the tiny battle-scarred desk, it looked like it could have been the set for an old detective movie. Two framed movie posters graced the stark white walls that were now so dingy as to be almost gray. One was for the Maltese Falcon, one of Bogart’s signature roles, and the other was for another movie of his, The Big Sleep. He played detectives in both movies. The man studies the posters for a long while, and therefore does not notice the other creature’s presence right away.

“Evenin’ Greywolf.” The man turns around to behold the creature that is Malik. He was not hiding his true form with vampiric powers, but instead wearing a tan trench coat with large tan plastic buttons and belted at the waist, much like the coat Humphrey Bogart wore in his famous role as Sam Spade. But underneath the coat, Greywolf glimpsed green-tinged skin. And while Malik’s face was normal looking, his skin was green, and short black hairs sprouted from random spots on his head, neck, and even his ears.

Greywolf bows slightly, a show of respect for being invited into the Nosferatu’s domain. “Good evening Malik.” He replies.

Malik gestures toward the curved archway near to the Maltese Falcon poster. “Step into my office, and we can get started.” Greywolf moves toward the archway with a fluid movement belying a warrior’s grace and discipline. Once upon a time, Greywolf had been a soldier, a French Musketeer, to be exact, and in honor of that, he wore his pale blonde hair pulled back into a topknot.

Surprisingly, Malik’s office was actually slightly smaller than the area that served as the waiting room. The oak desk took up the majority of the space, leaving just barely enough room for three chairs, one behind the desk and the other two in front of it. An old manual Smith-Corona typewriter sat on the desk, sharing the space with a phone and a more modern laptop. Greywolf waits for Malik to take his seat behind the desk before sitting down in the chair directly facing Malik. The wood chair offered little padding and no real comfort. But again, he wasn’t here for a comfortable chair. He wanted information.

“So Greywolf, what can I do for you?”

Greywolf reaches into a pocket of his duster and removes a dirty rectangle of paper. “I need some information on someone. I want a full history, including what your cop buddies have to say about this person.” He reaches across the expanse of the desk to hand it to the Nosferatu.

Malik looks at the card. The card must have fallen on the ground at some point, because there were telltale mud stains that marred the once pristine white surface. He flips it over. The first thing that catches his eye is the crown logo, which he instantly recognizes as the seal of King County. A County employee. He then reads the card. King County Office of the Public Defender; Mara Ravenclaw, Attorney.

Ravenclaw. Malik had heard of her, actually. The friends he still had on the force called her a bitch on wheels. She was a really good attorney. She helped quite a few of her clients beat the charges against them. Of course, it did help that there was enough evidence available to establish reasonable doubt. It also helped that didn’t go to court a lot, as she negotiated a lot of plea bargains or swapped testimony for immunity. She played the game well, and there were few cops or Assistant District Attorneys that enjoyed the prospect of tangling with her, or the other female P.D. Renee Choi. And none of them wanted to ever consider the unpleasant prospect of going up against BOTH of them at the same time. Fortunately though, the only time two P.D.s served as co-counsel was during a capital murder case, and thankfully, there were very few of those types of clients who either couldn’t afford counsel or get a private attorney to work for them pro-bono. There was lots of glory to be had for the winner of those sorts of cases, and fame and notoriety for the loser.

“You’ve chosen a very interesting subject, Greywolf.” Malik replies, handing back the stained business card. Ms. Ravenclaw is well known among the police as being a very tough lawyer to go up against. She always tries to do right by her clients, even when they’re guilty, and is one of the best at negotiating with the D.A.’s office.” Malik turns his attention to the computer on his desk, and opens his specialized search software. He begins to rapidly tap at the keys with two fingers, entering the woman’s name and revealing that he had probably never taken a typing course during his years as a mortal police detective, or bothered to learn after he had joined the ranks of the undead.

The first try reveals very little on Mara Ravenclaw. Even her driving record didn’t go farther back than the late 80’s. “This is odd.” Malik offers. “Up until about eight years ago, Mara Ravenclaw didn’t exist.” He starts to type in another sequence of keys to do a cross-reference. “Ah, here’s why: she legally changed her name from Marie Rothchild to Mara Ravenclaw in 1986.”

Greywolf strokes his chin. “Rothchild?” He asks Malik in mock surprise. He’d heard her address one of the dead as “father”, and judging by her age, Greywolf had surmised that she had to be addressing Marcus Rothchild, because the other residents of the crypt had died before she was even born. “As in the Seattle Rothchild Family? I thought the last member was Marcus Rothchild, and he died several years ago. Accidental overdose, if I recall.”

“You’re familiar with the family, then?” Malik asks, accessing the local newspaper archives in an attempt to find reference to the man’s death.

“Anyone who’s lived in Seattle for as long as I have is quite aware of who they are.” Greywolf replies. “The family helped build the city. They made a fortune in real estate and land speculation and they were well known as patrons of the arts and education.”

Malik nods. He wasn’t familiar with the name, but then again, he generally didn’t know a lot of mortals that didn’t have a long rap sheet. “Marcus Rothchild, head counsel for Boeing Corporation was survived by a daughter, Marie,” he reads off the screen. “She was about 16 at the time of his death. She’s listed as the only surviving relative.”

Greywolf smiles inwardly. He’d broken into the County’s personnel office and learned that the woman had no living relatives, and Malik had now confirmed this. This was a good thing, because it meant that the woman had no ties to the community besides her coworkers, so if properly timed, her disappearance would not be immediately noticed.

“Marie Rothchild was born here in Seattle. November 13, 1966.” Malik looks again at the screen. His search for the name Marcus Rothchild had pulled up more articles in the local paper than just the man’s obituary. The most tantalizing of the headlines read simply “Wealthy socialite dies in fall.” He opens the article and begins to scan it. “And it seems that her mother, Diana, died falling down a flight of stairs. Based on the date of this article, it means that Ms. Ravenclaw was about 13 when her mom died.”

Her mother. That was whom Mara had come to see at the cemetery. “Let me see a copy of the article.”

Malik nods and clicks the Print option. Within a couple minutes, two pages appear on the printer, which he hands over to Greywolf. Greywolf scans the article. She had died falling down the stairs. Police ruled the death accidental after speaking with the husband. Sounded rather suspicious, really. Like maybe the husband had pushed her down the stairs and thus gotten away with murder, or at least manslaughter.

Malik goes back to searching for articles on Mara Ravenclaw. In addition to the tiny name change notice, he finds a number of articles. Most of them of course, were regarding her involvement on some case, but there were a couple that showed her in attendance at a charity event. “Hmm…it seems our Ms. Ravenclaw likes to attend charity events.”

Greywolf seems a bit more interested now. “What sort of events?” He asks.

Malik scans the articles. “It looks like she’s interested in women’s causes. She’s attended a number of events to benefit victims of domestic violence. She also attended a breast cancer charity auction, and attended a gala for Court Appointed Special Advocates for children. She’s also been named as a thousand-dollar donor for W.E.A.V.E. Rather generous, considering a civil servant’s pay.”

Greywolf scratches his chin again, considering what he had learned about his quarry. So she donates money to help prevent domestic violence. She works for the Public Defender’s office, even though her father had been a prominent corporate attorney. It seemed then she would be a worthy candidate after all. Even so, he intended to watch her for a time. Just to be certain.

Greywolf rises from the uncomfortable chair, and reaches into the pocket of his duster. “Thanks for your help, Malik.” He tosses a wad of cash on the desk, and knows without counting it that it was exactly the amount they had agreed upon, because he had counted it out earlier that evening.
Malik watches the Brujah named Greywolf leave his office, and tucks the money away in his wallet. “Not bad for a half-hour’s worth of surfing and research that didn’t even require me to leave the office.” He remarks to the bare wall. “Though I wonder why he’s so interested in this Ravenclaw woman?” A hint of a smile breaks through the stony exterior of his greenish skin. “Perhaps I should find out. The information could prove valuable.”

Chapter One

2004-11-06T14:23:00.000-08:00

So, wow, I didn't have any idea that this task was so daunting. Six days into November, and I'm a bit behind the pace I need to be at.

However, I did manage to finish the first chapter and completed two of the dares I took (the opening sentence and the Black Cock), so here it is for your perusal:

Chapter One
A Lawyer’s Story

This day was just like all the other days--wet, cold, slimy, and covered with alligators. Well, sort of. Let me back up a minute and explain. Seattle is the sort of place where it rains more than 200 days out of the year, so it’s cold and wet most of the time, and especially in November. Today was the 13th of November, so it was no exception. As a lawyer, I spend a lot of time at the courthouse, where slimy lawyers dressed in expensive suits are as thick as thieves. No wonder most people hate lawyers, or why some people believe that the only good lawyer is a dead one. Sure, there are a few good ones, but the slime balls far outnumber them. The alligators? Those would be my clients. They are drug dealers, whores, thieves, murderers and other accused criminals that all share a common bond: they can’t pay for their own defense. That’s where I come in. My name is Mara Ravenclaw, and I’m a Public Defender for King County.

So for me, this day is much like any other. With one little difference: today is my birthday. It is my twenty-eighth, though only my second while working for the Office of the Public Defender.

It is nearly noon, and I just got back from the courthouse to my tiny office. I guess you could call it an office. It’s really just a cubicle with no doors and fabric walls. A vase of pink roses sits on my desk, waiting for my return. They weren’t a gift from some boyfriend though. I’d bought them on my way to work this morning. I plan to give half of them to my grandmother and half to my mother when I visit them after work today. But there is still much to do before I can leave for the day. I take two more manila file folders out of my briefcase and toss them onto a stack of files already sitting on my desk before sitting down. The two files are the clients I managed to pick up while I was at court. The rest of the stack represents my active cases. I grab a stack of paperwork from my inbox and start to study it. They were the decisions I’d requested from Lexmark a week ago, in preparation for a case. I start to make notes, planning my course of attack.

“Hey Mara.” I look up. It was a short Asian woman wearing a plum suit and eye shadow to match. Renee Choi. A fellow lawyer, and probably the closest thing I had to a friend in the office. Like me, she’d been pegged as a “lifer”, that is someone that plans to make the P.D.’s office his or her whole career, not just a stepping-stone to something better. Unlike me, she handled domestic violence cases. But then, she didn’t make monthly contributions of time and money to the Seattle Chapter of Women Escaping A Violent Environment, or W.E.A.V.E. for short. I did, and actually I’d been doing it pretty steady since my college days, so I’d been permanently recused from taking those cases. In the end it was probably for the best.

“Hey Choi. What’s up?” I had a pretty good idea, but I asked anyway.

Choi stops to smell the roses on my desk. “Very nice.” She says. “A present from a boyfriend I don’t know about?” She is smirking now.

“Not quite.” I reply. “I bought them myself.” Choi’s plum lips twist into a pout of disappointment. “For my birthday.”

“That’s right, it’s your birthday today.” Choi was doing a really bad job of pretending she didn’t know. 28, right?”

I nodded, trying to turn back to my papers. I wasn’t much for revealing lots of personal info. Not even to Choi.

“Great. So will you join me at the Cock for drinks tonight? It’s DiAmato’s last day, we simply must celebrate.”

I smile. I’d forgotten it was DiAmato’s last day. He’d been a pain in the ass to Choi and me since he got here six months ago. Always telling us we had to make the coffee and bring it to him, like we were his secretaries instead of poorly paid lawyers and public servants. Since he was our boss, it wasn’t like we could complain a whole lot, just hope that he would eventually bail, just like the other three. Sure enough, he wasn’t a lifer and didn’t disappoint us. When we found out he was going to the other side and transferring to the District Attorney’s office to prosecute criminal cases and further his political ambitions, the two of us were ecstatic. Actually, so were the rest of the lawyers in the office. “Yeah, sure. I have a couple things to do first, but I’ll be there. About seven?”

“Seven it is.” Choi walked away, humming in time with the clicking of her purple pumps. She was in a good mood today. No wonder. Nick DiAmato rode her hardest of all of us. Maybe it was because she was Asian. Maybe it was because he thought she got the job as part of affirmative action and didn’t really deserve it. Of course, it could be because he wanted to sleep with her, but she turned him down flat. Heck, she’d threatened him with a sexual harassment suit, but never bothered to file the complaint. I turned my attention back to the papers at hand, and reached for another stack of forms to prepare the motions I intended to file. I prepared myself for the last part of my day.

I heard keys jingling. Sounded like they were Jeff’s. Jeff Fisher was a major clock- watcher, and rarely stayed more than a minute after five. And he was definitely not a lifer. I look at the clock. Sure enough, it was five o’clock. After throwing the two files and the completed forms into my briefcase, I grab my purse from my desk drawer and put on my black wool trench coat. After arranging my purse and briefcase, I grab the vase of roses from my desk, holding it with both hands. I don’t bother to stop by DiAmato’s office to say goodbye and wish him good luck. I didn’t like the guy, and I was sure I’d see him soon enough when he started prosecuting cases against my clients. But in any case, he’d left before I did, because his office door was closed and there was no light from underneath the door.

I get to the parking lot, and my car is waiting for me. It’s a three-year-old Ford Probe, silver in color, with a gray interior. In the parking lot at the OPD, my car stands out a bit, as it is one of the newest. Most of the other cars in the lot are much older, dating back to the 70’s and 80’s. Even though lawyers primarily use the parking lot, there are no Cadillacs, Porsches or Jaguars in this lot. You don’t become a P.D. for the money. You do it because you think you can make a difference. Or because you think it will look good on your curriculum vitae, the lawyer equivalent of a resume.

After opening the door, I toss my briefcase and purse into the back seat. I set the vase of roses on the front seat, and buckle it in. Then I head towards SeaTac. I flip on the radio. What luck, KISW was playing Nirvana. Okay, so it was “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, one of the band’s more overplayed songs, but it was better than listening to Styx or Boston, or any of the other bands they played in heavy rotation.

The traffic ahead of me on Interstate 5 had slowed to a crawl. I hoped it wouldn’t be a long delay, because at this rate, the normally short 12-mile drive would take over an hour. I grit my teeth and try not to let the traffic bother me. Before long, I switch it to KPLU. Jazz music starts to wind its way through my speakers. But on the other hand, the slow traffic also gives me the opportunity to drive a bit more carefully, better ensuring that the roses are not damaged during the trip. I remember three years back, when my grandmother and I visited my mother’s grave; a couple of the stems broke while I was driving there. My mother didn’t really care, but I did.

About two miles later, I pass the source of the slowdown. A fender-bender. The two cars had pulled over to the side to exchange information, but of course, everyone has to look at the accident. Stupid! Finally, finally, I get to make the turnoff to head toward the airport. But that’s not where I’m going. No, I’m going to Washington Memorial Cemetery. As I enter the gates, I already feel a little less stressed. The park-like setting always has that effect on me. I get out of my car. I take a business card from my purse and put it in the pocket of my trench coat. Even though I know they will probably be safe, I stash my purse and briefcase in the trunk and start to make the walk towards my grandmother’s grave.

The drive had taken a bit longer than I’d expected, and the sun had set behind a heavy veil of gray clouds. It was starting to get dark, but at least the rain had now turned into just a light drizzle. I pressed on, carrying the flowers. The approaching darkness and the dwindling light didn’t bother me. In the two years since my grandmother died, I have traveled the path to her grave so many times that I could probably get there while blindfolded. Not that I want to ever try it.

I keep to the gravel path, and allow my mind to wander. There were so many things on my mind. I had to head back to Seattle and have drinks with Choi. The motions that I was going to file in the morning at court, and most of all, how much I missed my grandmother. After my father died, she’d taken me in. Given me a normal life. And when I legally changed my name to Mara Ravenclaw, she’d understood. But then, she was my maternal grandmother, so I suppose she didn’t really have any reason to complain.

Gran’s grave was at the top of one of the many hills. A plain marker of black granite laid into the ground marked the site. The stone was an exact match to her husband’s headstone, who had died before I was even born. She never remarried, for reasons that I will probably never understand. The stone read “Althea Elaine Taft, beloved wife 1921 – 1992.” What the stone didn’t say was that she had died of breast cancer. Or how her daughter had preceded her in death.

I kneel at the well-tended gravesite. The small metal vase on the side was empty, so I poured half of the water from the vase into it and carefully placed six of the roses into it, arranging them with the same care my gran would have used. She had taught me about the language of flowers, and the art of arranging them. For the most part, those lessons had stuck. Pink roses symbolized Grace and Gratitude, but they were also my gran’s favorite color. I sit down at the gravesite. “Hey gran.” I offer my traditional greeting. “It’s my birthday today. I just thought I’d stop and let you know that things are going okay. I’ve still got my job at the P.D.’s office, and that creep boss of mine is leaving today. I can’t think of a better birthday present than that.” Well, actually I could. Having my gran back. Too bad, that was never going to happen. “I really miss you.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and got up. I had another trip to make.

My father’s family, the Rothchilds, was actually quite wealthy, and their crypt was in another section of the cemetery. Against my gran’s wishes, my mother had been interred in it, as was required by the Rothchild family traditions. For this trip, I followed the red brick path, as it was the simplest and quickest way to reach the crypt. I glanced at the names engraved on the bricks as I passed them, looking for the one I used as my frame of reference. Finally I found it. Reverend Luther Raines. I turned then towards the crypt.

The Rothchild crypt was a rather large and ornate one. It was made of dark green marble and festooned with angels that were carved directly into the columns. This was not a surprise really, as the Rothchilds were a prominent Seattle family, and perhaps the very definition of “old money” on the West Coast. Four generations were buried in the crypt now, from my great-great grandfather Renee, to my father Marcus and my mother Diana Taft Rothchild. I walk to the wall where the names of the dead are set into the marble on bronze plaques with raised lettering. I glance at the names of my grandparents, who died before I was born.

I trace the letters of my mother’s name and then set the vase with the remaining roses on the ground by the door of the crypt. My mother was taken far too soon from my life. She had died when I was 13. She’d fallen down the steps of the grand mansion we lived in. Marble steps. Now her body was in a marble crypt. There was something sort of ironic about that. Of course, it was also ironic that when I turned 19, I’d had the Rothchild ancestral home declared a historical landmark and made it available for public viewing.

I look at my watch. Six-thirty. I have to get back to Seattle soon if I want to make that dinner with Choi. I kiss my mother’s bronze plaque, and then turn my attention to my father’s plaque, which was directly to the left of hers. “Hello father.” I take the business card from the pocket of my trench coat. “I’m back again. Came to see mom, not you.” I held my business card with its crown logo up to the plaque. “I’m still working for the Office of the Public Defender.” I then carefully tuck the card underneath the vase. “Does that piss you off? Knowing that the daughter of Marcus Rothchild, one of Seattle’s most prominent lawyers, is working for the meager wages the County pays a P.D.? I sure as hell hope so, you bastard.”

As I spoke the words, I felt a cold chill run down my spine. I had the strange feeling that I was being watched. A feeling I wasn’t the only person in this section of the graveyard today. I looked around, and sure enough, there was someone else nearby. Rather odd, really, since there wasn’t a funeral service scheduled, it wasn’t a weekend, and it wasn’t a holiday of any sort. It was just an ordinary day, and most people didn’t visit the cemetery on ordinary days.

A man was crouched over an age-darkened headstone a few feet away from me, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail at the top of his head. Like me, he was wearing a black coat to ward off the chill and the drizzle, a duster, I believe, and from this distance, I could see that it was made of a thinner material than my coat, and appeared to have been badly patched in a couple of places. He was facing me, and my brown eyes met his blue ones for just a moment. But in that moment, I felt like I was reminded of the time I met the first client I had to defend against a murder charge. He had dead, cold eyes, and he had been guilty as charged. This guy had a similar look in his eyes. I tore my gaze away, wondering why he was in this section. This section of the cemetery was for the more well to do deceased. Then again, people with old money never made a show of their wealth except in social situations, and this was definitely not a social situation.

I was feeling cold now. Chilled from my feet to my hands. I get up, but I can still feel his eyes upon me. I start to head back towards my car, and it is only when I return to the red brick path that I dare to look back. Thankfully, I was not being followed, because my bottle of pepper spray was in my purse. Which was in my car. Note to self: keep purse with you at all times.

As I drive back to Seattle, I am haunted by the image of the man’s eyes. Even stranger perhaps is that if my memory of the layout of that section of the cemetery was correct, the grave he was visiting was a rather old one, dating back to the early 1900’s. Perhaps he was a genealogist, tracing back the roots of his ancestors. Perhaps not. Ah well, I have better things to worry about besides some creepy guy at the cemetery.

I make it back to Seattle in near record time. The traffic gods were kind tonight. Atoning for the earlier problem? Doubt it. Now for my next trick, finding a parking place. I keep one ear tuned to the rock station KISW as I began my hunt for a parking place. After circling the block once, I consider going back to the office and parking there. It wasn’t a long walk to the Cock from there, but parking in the lot after hours was strictly discouraged unless it was work related. Going to a bar wasn’t exactly work related; I decide to err on the side of caution and pull into a parking garage a block from the bar. I get out of my car and take my purse from the trunk. I pull my coat a bit tighter around me to fend off the chilly wind that was threatening to cut through my clothing, and walk over to the Cock.

The Black Cock, or just “The Cock” for short, is an authentic English Pub located on South Jackson Street, only three blocks from my office. Between the short distance and the free happy hour buffet, it’s a favorite hangout for us P.D.’s. I open the heavy door. It was made of solid oak, with black wrought iron bars across a small window cut into the door. The storefront was faced in stone, made to look rather like the blocks of a medieval castle.

Stepping inside, the bar had white washed walls and dark wood beams. The bar itself was made out of mahogany, with a brass railing on the floor that had been polished to a high sheen. A large mirror behind the bar reflected a huge variety of bottles in different sizes and colors. To maximize floor space, there were no stools near the bar. Three buxom waitresses wearing peasant blouses and knee-length skirts visited the bar frequently, offering the bartender orders, ringing up orders, taking drinks back to the tables and flirting shamelessly with the bartender, who was both very cute and very gay. Patrons also crowded around the bar. A large fireplace sat in the corner of the room. A blazing fire provided heat to the place, and when added to the collective body heat of patrons, it gave the pub a cozy warmth that you almost didn’t want to leave.

I look around the pub. A group of male college students was playing darts in the corner. A half-filled pitcher of beer sat near them, alongside a number of empty glasses. I scan the booths and their tables of dark glossy oak, looking for Choi. I finally find her sitting in one of the quieter corners of the pub. But she was not alone. A young woman was sitting with her at the table. What the heck?

I hesitate a moment, but Choi sees me and starts waving. Damn. Now she’s seen me, and I have no choice but to head towards their table. As I approach, the young woman’s features become more distinct, and I realize that her features bear a strong resemblance to Choi. Was she a younger sister? Choi had told me once that she had three brothers and two sisters, and she was the only lawyer in the family.

Compared to Choi and me, who were dressed professionally, the woman definitely stuck out like a sore thumb: her black hair covered her small breasts, and from this distance, I could see that she had at least three wraps of yellow and red thread in her hair. She wore a low cut pink shirt that offered a tantalizing hint of green ink that had to be part of a tattoo, and a small stone sparkled in her nose. I could almost bet she was a college student. Probably majoring in liberal arts. I reach the table. Choi is positively beaming. I wonder what she’s up to. “Mara!” She exclaims, her face brightening. “Come sit next to me.” She pats the heavily padded maroon seat next to her.

I slide in, putting my purse on the seat to act almost as a buffer between us. “Sorry if I’m a bit late.” I offered. “I got stuck in traffic. What’s new?” I roll my eyes.

Choi waves her hand dismissively. “You’re only five minutes late. I’m not DiAmato, after all. I’m not going to write you up. I will buy you a drink though. What’s your poison?” While I consider my order, Choi looks across the table, now decorated with dirty plates and utensils. “Oh, where are my manners tonight? Mara, this is my sister Wendy. Wendy, this is Mara Ravenclaw. The only other female attorney at the P.D.’s office and a fellow lifer.”

“Nice to meet you.” Wendy replies, rising from the table and extending her hand. “Renee’s told me a lot about you.”

“All of it good, I hope?” I ask, smiling while I shake her hand. The question was more rhetorical than serious. I knew Choi had nothing but respect and admiration for me. There were very few lawyers that would choose to work at the P.D.’s office if they could work for any prestigious firm they wanted.

Wendy nods, but Choi is faster. “Wendy’s is studying at Seattle Central Community College. She’s majoring in Liberal Arts and Communications.”

So I’m guessing she’s not planning on being a lawyer. “Interesting combination. Are you planning on becoming a journalist?”

“A novelist, actually.” Wendy replies. “I’m trying to write a novel set in Ancient China, but I’m sort of stuck right now. In the meantime, I’ve been writing some articles for the college paper. I don’t get paid, but I do get a byline.”

“So Mara,” Choi asks, deftly changing the subject. “What do you want to order? Since it’s your birthday, I’m buying. Well, at least the first round.”

“White Russian.” I reply. With its combination of milk and Kahlua, it was a very potent alcoholic version of a Starbucks latte. Starbucks. That reminds me, I haven’t been to the original Starbucks shop on Pike in forever. I should try to head to the Market this weekend.

Choi manages to flag a waitress in record time to place our drink orders. How the heck was she able to do that so fast? I was lucky if I could get one to come to the table in under an hour. Not only that, she was shorter than me. But she did dress better than I did. Maybe that was it. Look like you’re successful and rich, and you get better service. Of course the only thing wrong with that philosophy was that some wealthy people, like myself, choose not to look like they were wealthy. Personally, I had enough in my trust fund so that I didn’t need to work if I didn’t want to. But I wanted to work. Helping people, not huge soulless corporations like Microsoft or Boeing.

I get up again to head to the buffet. “I’m going to get something to eat. Need or want anything?” Choi shakes her head. Judging by the dirty dishes shoved to the edge of the table, they had probably been there a little while. Though there were only a couple of empty glasses at the table, so like most of us poor attorneys, they’d nursed the drinks. But, hey, there was nothing really wrong with that, as I did it too.

The buffet wasn’t really a huge spread, but for free, it wasn’t bad. Of course, since the buffet stopped at eight, it was looking a bit picked over, and some of it seemed to be getting cold. I helped myself to green salad with Italian dressing, one banger (an English sausage) and some bread. Yes, the buffet wasn’t entirely composed of traditional English food, but not all English food was that appetizing or tasty. Like blood pudding or haggis. Thanks, but no thanks. Since it was a Thursday night, and after seven, most of the commuters that had come wait out the rush hour eating free food had headed home, leaving only the most die-hard patrons. Or at least the ones that were single and had no life. With the crowds gone, I had no trouble getting back to the table.

But while I was gone, the dirty dishes had been removed, and three fresh drinks now sat on the table, sitting atop round paper coasters that more than likely advertised either Harp or Guinness ales. But that wasn’t the only thing that was on the table. Ten brightly colored tarot cards were spread out in the form of a cross on the table in front of Wendy and she had shifted position, and was now directly across from me. Earlier, she’d squeezed herself against the very corner of the dark wood booth. Aw shit, now I knew what Choi was up to. Her sister was going to read my cards, and she’d put her up to it. I was pretty sure of it.

I set the food down and look at the cards. A number of them had names instead of numbers. Perhaps the scariest of all was the card that prominently featured a skeleton. Death. “Okay, okay, you got me. You’ve wanted me to go see a fortuneteller, and now you’ve brought one to me. Is she really your sister?

Choi smiles, knowing she’d been caught. “Yes, she’s really my sister. But she also has a gift for seeing into the future.” She replies. “And it’s your birthday today. You should know what you have to look forward to this year.”

“I already know what I have to look forward to.” I reply. “An office without DiAmato barking orders at us, a nearly overwhelming caseload, and the prospect of a meager raise if I work hard and the county’s got money in the budget for it.”

Choi laughs nervously at that remark. It cut far too close to home for comfort. She looks to her sister. “So tell Miss Ravenclaw what the cards have to say.” She then looks over to me. I decide to ignore both of them and eat. My food was getting cold.

I have had my cards read in college a couple times by people who were absolute novices. They would keep their Tarot interpretation book close at hand and read the meanings word for word. I had to hand to Choi’s sister. There was no book in sight as she closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and began to interpret the cards laid out before me. I continued to eat and feign disinterest.

Wendy begins with the two cards that form a cross. She indicates the vertical card with one slender finger, “This card” she said, “Represents you.” She then points to the card lying across it. “This card crosses you, and represents the obstacles you must overcome.” She then turns her attention to the cards above and below the crossed cards. “This represents the things you want, and this the things you have to work with. The card on the right,” She says, touching the two of cups, “Is your recent past, while the card on the left,” Wendy says, touching the grinning skeleton card of death, “Is your future.” I almost choke on my mouthful of banger.

I turn and immediately glare at Choi. “Some birthday present, Choi. I’m going to die soon.” Choi rolls her eyes at the remark, but her sister Wendy is not pleased.

“The appearance of the card of Death does not necessarily indicate that you are going to die, Miss Ravenclaw.” For the first time since I’d met her, Wendy’s tone had turned to one more serious. She then indicates the last four cards on the table, starting at the bottom, and working her way up. “This represents your current situation, this represents the outside factors that influence you, this card reveals your emotions, and this last card,” She offers, tapping the card with the edge of her short brick red fingernail, “is the final result.”

I could only smile at the card. It was Justice. And wasn’t that exactly what I sought for my clients? Wendy then gestures to the spread. “Almost half of the cards are Major Arcana.” I look at her quizzically. “That means that there are powerful forces around you, Mara Ravenclaw.”

“Well of course.” I reply. “I work for the county and deal with judges.”

“You’ve had some sorrow in your life, both in the past and rather recently. You are born under the sign of Scorpio, which some call the Death Sign. In your case, death and destiny seem to follow you. I suppose it is appropriate that your surname is Ravenclaw, for the raven is a bird of death and destiny.”

I look at Choi skeptically. “Did you tell her that my grandmother died last year?” Choi shakes her head, but I wasn’t sure that she was really telling the truth.

“The cards also tell me that there are changes coming. Major ones.” Wendy again touches the Death card. “Death is a card of change, and change is what you have to look forward to.” She then returns to the Justice card. “And in the end, you will have to make decisions in order to deal with the change that is outside of your control. Wendy then scans the pattern, and her gaze alights on another of the major Arcana. The Emperor. Sitting in the position of influence. “Your life continues to be affected by a person who once held authority over you.” Now this was getting waaaaay too close for comfort. I’d seen that card in other spreads, and I have interpreted it as the tyrannical and lecherous influence of my father, who now, mercifully, was deceased.

Wendy points to the card at the very bottom of the spread, the last of the Arcana cards in the spread. “And this is rather interesting indeed.” Choi is smirking now. The card was The Lovers, and in the bottom position, it supposedly represented my present situation. “For you, this card represents an obsession. An obsession with your career rather than romance.”

I nod, stirring the last third of my White Russian. It really wasn’t a big secret around the office that I didn’t have a boyfriend. Like England’s Virgin Queen, Elizabeth the First, I was married to my career. I didn’t want to have a relationship with a guy. Or any one at this point in my life. Every person I loved or was close to was dead now. First my mother, then my grandmother. I just can’t take any more bitter disappointments in my life.

Wendy continues to interpret the cards, and finally, begins to put them back into the deck. She wraps the cards with a swatch of dark purple cloth that looked very soft. Silk maybe? “Your life will change drastically before too long. Maybe not this year, but mark my words, it will.”
I really didn’t have a witty reply for that. All I could do was to look at the young lady, who had been my herald of misfortune. I really needed that drink now, so I forgot all about trying to nurse it and tossed back what was left in the glass. The once cheerful mood of the celebration was gone now, turned to something far gloomier. I stayed another hour, more out of courtesy than desire, and headed back to my small apartment downtown, parking my car in the underground lot the complex provided. And there it would stay for the rest of the week. I usually walked to work.

A Halloween Breakthrough

2004-10-31T17:48:00.000-08:00

So, with one day before the start of National Novel Writing Month, I came up with the title for my novel: Cards of Change. Cards will be figured into the novel rather prominently: business cards and tarot cards. (Should I maybe even throw in some playing cards?)

A trip to the fortune teller will offer Mara clues to her impending doom. Over the course of time, Mara's business cards will change as she is forced to change jobs.

So, didn't go to the haunted house last night, so I'm taking my son and his friend tonight instead. 4 trick or treaters so far tonight.

Happy Halloween!

Halloween Eve

2004-10-30T14:34:00.000-07:00

The night before Halloween, and we're going to hit Screamland tonight. We won a pair of tickets a little while ago, so we might as well use them. Went to the same one last year and it wasn't all that scary. We'll see....

Let's see, the temp job is going fine (though it's JUST a temp job) and I have a second interview with the State on Thursday (yay!).

In any case, the ideas for the novel progress. I'm considering having the first chapter of the book begin a week after the MC begins her job as a Public Defender. The second scene will involve her visiting the graves of her parents and grandparents.

The second chapter will be written from an entirely different viewpoint, that of someone trying to research into the MC's background. It will likely be a fairly short chapter.

Doing the Dance of Joy!!!

2004-10-20T17:44:00.000-07:00

Well, I had the interview with the hotel today. They were looking to get someone started tommorrow or Friday! That's really really fast in the grand scheme of things! Arriving there, I knew I was probably one of the most qualified candidates they could hope for because not only do I have industry experience, but I was doing pretty much the exact same duties while working for one of their closest competitors!

My horoscope has been saying things would improve, and my husband (who is rather inuitive) said the same thing. And for once, both were right! I got the job! Now with that said, at the moment, it is only a 6 week minimum temp assignment, but there is a chance that it could become permanent. The commute will suck, but it's not far from my husband's office, so we could carpool. And then the funny thing is, another employer called me wanting to schedule an interview. DOH!!! Well, I'll call him back tommorrow.

So with job hunting temporarily out of the way, I can focus more on writing that Nano Novel. Whoo hoo!!!!

Tuesday Afternoon

2004-10-19T16:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, I have been a little remiss in posting, but there hasn't been a lot to report. I had my interview with the State today, and I think it went well. But heck, you just never know.

Also have an interview tommorrow with a Hotel company. Crossing my fingers, but should be a good chance of getting it since I've got industry experience. Heck, I used to work for one of their direct competitors.

Okay, so on to Nano: I took another dare, that of adding a character that wears black, wears sunglasses at night and doesn't speak. Hmm...a vampire novel featuring a character like that? I think it's pretty doable!
My thought is just to have him be a very ancillary character. Maybe like the Gangrel bodyguard for the Prince of the city. He wears the glasses to cover up an 'animal feature' like rat eyes, wolf eyes, or serpent eyes. Hmmm....I think I'll go with serpent eyes. People might mistake him for a Setite (a group that isn't well liked), which would also explain why he wears the glasses....

So that makes 5 dares so far.

Also, I saw a post soliciting Nanowrimo Bloggers, so I submitted the site today. If you're writing a Nano Novel and interested in joining the list, you might want to pay them a visit http://nanoblogmo.blogspot.com/
Not much there right now, but perhaps tommorrow???

Friday, Friday, Friday!

2004-10-15T23:53:00.000-07:00

Well, survived another week, but no news on the job front. So I've decided to redo my resume.

On the political front, I had one person stop by my house Wednesday to make sure I hadn't changed my vote or my concern over the issues. (I hadn't), and had someone else call tonight to make sure that I was still voting for the candidate and could I be sure to turn my ballot in early? (See, here in Oregon, we don't go to the polls, we have mail in balloting.)

On the subject of voting, the local newspaper announced that there were record numbers of voter registrations. Yay! Maybe we really will have a decent turnout this election, even though Nader's off the ballot.

So on to Nano:

I went through the evil overlord list and picked a few to include in my book. At this point, the person(s) I'm going to use I haven't defined as of yet. So, they are:

I will not interrogate my enemies in the inner sanctum -- a small hotel well outside my borders will work just as well.

A very important thing for vampires. You don't want people to know where your inner sanctum, which is commonly called a haven, is.

I will dress in bright and cheery colors, and so throw my enemies into confusion.

Hee hee! A villian dressing in cheery colors! What could be better???

I will not fly into a rage and kill a messenger who brings me bad news just to illustrate how evil I really am. Good messengers are hard to come by.

How very true.

If an advisor says to me "My liege, he is but one man. What can one man possibly do?", I will reply "This." and kill the advisor.

Hee hee! This is a good one!

My security keypad will actually be a fingerprint scanner. Anyone who watches someone press a sequence of buttons or dusts the pad for fingerprints then subsequently tries to enter by repeating that sequence will trigger the alarm system.

Something every well-secured haven needs.

No matter how many shorts we have in the system, my guards will be instructed to treat every surveillance camera malfunction as a full-scale emergency

For a vampire, any daytime security breach is potentially deadly.

Any data file of crucial importance will be padded to 1.45Mb in size.

And make sure that the computer DOESN'T have a CD Burner.

I've got it outlined a bit. I just have to decide if I want to include an additional POV in the novel.

The Week's Almost Over

2004-10-14T22:21:00.000-07:00

So, I did parent conferences today. Most of them had good things to say about my son, but he's having trouble in one class, but at least he's pulled his high F up to a high D. Maybe he can pull it up to a C- by the time grades come out.

So, on the work front, I've been tinkering with my resume. Maybe I'll start having a bit better luck getting more interviews.

Okay, so now for Nano:

The MC is actually based (loosely, very loosely) on John Grisham's The Street Lawyer. Her name is Mara Ravenclaw (yes, I took it from Harry Potter). She comes from a life of priviledge, as her father was a lawyer. She could have gotten a job at any firm, but chose to work for the Public Defender's Office instead.

You see, my own brother is a lawyer. Not a corporate attorney, but a criminal one. Specializing in Drunk Driving. Therefore, in some ways, the character is a tribute to him.

Now, on the Nano Forums, you will find a Topic titled "Dares". People make them and take them, in part to help you meet the 50,000 word minimum. At this point, I have accepted 4 dares and made 3, one of which was accepted.

The Dares I chose are:

Having a character use something from the evil overlord list
Name an establishment the The Black Cock (now I've got a name for the bar)
Include at least one terrible pickup line.
Start the novel with a certain sentence. Well, since it's not November yet, so you'll just have to wait and see what it is....

Next up: Friday, Friday, Friday!

The Projects Continue

2004-10-13T22:39:00.000-07:00

Well, interview at 9 a.m., nap at 11. Hey, it's tough getting out of bed and out the door so early!!!

Interview went pretty well. Also visited my old boss since I was in the neighborhood. It's a good idea to try to keep in touch with them, as you'll never know when you're going to need references.....

Next up: Parent Conferences tommorrow!! I'm rather dreading it.

Nano: Well, for my first attempt at Nano, I'm going to stick with what I know and write a vampire novel. I've been playing Vampire the Masquerade for some time now, so I'm pretty familiar with it.

The novel in question will be set in Seattle, and is basically the unwritten (but outlined) back story for one of my VtM characters. More later.

First Post

2004-10-12T14:23:00.000-07:00

Hi there, and welcome to my world!

I'm currently attempting to do two rather stressful things in hopes that one will be completed soon:

1) Find a new job

2) Try my hand at this year's Nanowrimo competition

Personally, I don't know which is worse. It's my first year doing Nanowrimo, but not the first time I've had to job hunt.

With that in mind, a couple tips on job hunting:

First, check your own references once in a while. I recently learned that one of the phone numbers doesn't work and had to update my resume accordingly.

Two, tailor your resume to the job. The fastest way to get your resume tossed is by applying for a Bookkeeper position with a resume listing Objective: Accountant Position. They'll think you're overqualified. Worse yet, you could get the interview and have them tell you you're overqualified.

Nanowrimo: You'll find their website here:
http://www.nanowrimo.org Basically, the challenge is to write a 50,000 (or more) word novel in a month, starting November 1st. I got the challenge on the Sanguinus Curae Forums from Elysium Keeper, whose blog you will find here:
http://keepersnanoproject04.blogspot.com/