The Fledgling

Her entire childhood was spent either at school or at gym practice. She had a dream, like all people do, a dream of making a living out of her athletic abilities.

Daddy was too busy with his career to tell her there's no such thing as a professional gymnast, and mommy... well, mommy was too busy looking for a new daddy. When high school ended, the starry-eyed girl had to learn she was simply not good enough.

A string of frustrating, dead-end jobs later, the gymnast turned into a stripper: swinging around a pole for tips and a low hourly wage paid the bills and kept her in shape, allowing the little girl deep inside the chance to dream of escaping that twenty-something hell. And she did escape, but not in the way she hoped.

Seduced in a back alley behind a seedy nightclub off of Hollywood's infamous Sunset Strip, the Gymnast was unceremoniously brought into the World of Darkness by a vampire with not enough sense of survival. He was found out by the enforcers of the eldest vampire in the city and put to death for bringing a human into the secret of the blood without permission. At first it seemed the Fledgling would share the same fate of destruction, but the other vampires had plans.

Brutally divorced from her living days, she begins her undead existence in the midst of a power struggle between L.A.'s vampire clans: her path is littered with intrigue, subterfuge and danger, and the new blood must tread carefully and choose her allies and enemies wisely. She is convenient; she is disposable; she is tougher and smarter than others give her credit for. The curse of blood of her Sire eats at her sanity, but the Fledgling does not succumb to it, learning to use the Madness instead.

Question is, will she learn fast enough?

Tag here to contact the Mun

People do need to make a living.

And when you're good at something, you can as well put it to use again.

There's a sign on the door:

The Stripper is IN.

- Lapdances: $ 30,00

- Lapdances with Light Touching: $50,00

- Full strip-tease: $100,00

She's waiting.



[ All threads millitimed to night-time. If you come up during the day, the sign reads "OUT" instead of "IN" and the door's locked. ]

After her conversation with Damsel, The Fledgling made her way to the Skyline Apartments downtown. A mailbox conveniently revealed Paul's apartment to be #510, and the door was found unlocked.

Convenience stopped there: Paul was dead, cold dead on his kitchen's floor.

She crouched and touched the body lightly, feeling the cold, clammy skin, scenting the sickly sweat of disease. Dead end.

Can't go back.

Look up.

She did, and noticed the blinking light of the answering machine.

Hi, Paul. It's Hannah. [cough] Just callin' to see how you are. I hope I didn't give you what I've got... uh, I feel like crap. Actually, I need to ask you a favor. [cough] Could you pick me up some cold medicine at the store? I hate to bother you, but... I can't seem to get out of bed. The code on my door is 1203. [cough, wheeze] Hey, listen, I, uh... had a really good time the other night. Maybe we could do it again sometime? Sorry... I'm rambling. Okay, bye.[beep]

The Fledgling looked down at the body. At the extended hand.

He died while trying to pick up the phone. A loose end, a broken connection to be mended.

Travel higher. Connect the pathways.

Up one floor, guided by the mailboxes once more. Hanna's apartment. Obedient door, opening to the touch of code and press of buttons. Scent of disease in the air, but not of death.

Good.

Bad.

Open the bedroom door.

"Paul, is that...? Hey, you're not Paul!" The young woman frowned, drawing the bedsheets tighter over herself, coughing and wheezing. "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"

Paul was blinded by the light. "I'm a friend of Paul's. He just wanted me to come and check up on you." Not a lie: the young man probably would have liked that.

"He did? That's so sweet." More coughing, and a weak smile. "He's such a nice guy. Is everything okay with him?"

Let the veils of madness paint you a vision of Paul! "You sound pretty sick, Hannah. What have you got?" The Fledgling's voice was a low drone, reaching into mind and soul to coax out answers.

Hannah hesitated a moment, then spoke in a weak voice. "I don't really know. I - I've taken all kinds of medicine, but I can't seem to get rid of it. I - I feel like I've got a fever and a sore throat. I'm feeling so weak... can't seem to get out of bed." A blink, and confusion. "What day is it? I - I can't remember."

"Nevermind that now." The vampire shook her head slowly. "Where you were touched by pestilence?"

Hannah blinked confused. "Well I think... I got sick from one of my... clients." She coughed again. "I was feeling fine until I... I uh... I saw her a few days ago."

Peddling of own flesh. "Tell me of your... client. Did she give you a name?"

"She was just a woman who called. She, uh... she found my ad in the newspaper. Usually only do business with referrals, you know, but she was offerin' a lot of money." The girl stopped, wheezed, struggling for breath. "Her name was Jezebel, Jezebel Locke. I'm usually not too good with names, you know, but hers was so strange... I can't seem to get it out of my head."

Did you enjoy your dance, little fly? "So the spider paid to bring you to her parlour. Where is this Black Widow?"

"She had a room at the Empire Hotel. I can't remember the number. She took me there, and..." She smiled a bit, then coughed. "To tell you the truth, I don't really remember a whole lot about that night, you know. Everything's a little blurry, you know. I mean... I'm not usually, you know, into women, but I remember feeling so attracted to her. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen..."

The Fledgling watched as Hannah laid back fully and closed her eyes.

One raspy breath.

Two.

Three.

Silence.

"Go and buzz in the great beyond, little fly: may your wings take you to higher places." Angels weep not over the spoiled soul of a paid seductress. "Farewell."

The Fledgling opens the door for the man, and walks after him.

The room is simplicity itself: as one enters, to the right there is a dinette nook, with pantry, fridge, counter, sink and a microwave oven. Further in on the same side, the door to the bathroom.

At the left side of the room, there is a couch, a large double bed and a dresser.

On the middle of the room, a low table with a portable CD player.

"The word on everyone's lips, Kindred or kine, seems to be epidemic." The Tremere Regent, Maximilian Strauss, spoke in a clear, firm tone: a man used to be listened to. "It seems that disease has been spreading at an alarming rate throughout the downtown population. Considering our particular... appetites... the local Kindred are more than concerned about these developments."

Sitting across from him in the study room, Amara did not look at the other kindred, but at a folded paper she had found in her mailbox: At your convenience, please come and visit me at my home downtown. I leave you this to guide you: Dark blood, our curse, alight this verse / Such power I sense in one so young / Come find me where burns the mystical sun. - M. Strauss, Tremere Regent. The building was not hard to find, in the end, decorated with a violet sun at the peak of the roof.

Eyes half-lidded, she gave a small nod. "A withered horse runs among us. Dirty blood is our doom."

"Yes, indeed." Strauss watched The Fledgling with a carefully neutral expression. "My opinion is that the local Anarchs are responsible for these outbreaks. Their precipitous indulgence of certain passions often leads to such things. Ergo, their need for the watchful eye of the Camarilla."

The last word caused a brow to rise, and her mind to switch tracks. "Uncloud this Camarilla. The Smiling Demon speaks ill of it."

"The Camarilla?" Strauss displayed genuine surprise. "It is merely a Kindred sect that exists to protect its members from the outside world. There are specific codes of behavior that we abide by in order to insure the continuance of our species. It is nothing more and nothing less." He then gave a half-shrug. "There are many independent clans who are not aligned with the Camarilla. And the Sabbat is another sect of various vampire clans whose beliefs are very different than our own. Unsavory sorts, to say the least. I understand you have already run afoul of them."

Amara tucked the note into her unipack, and peered more intently at the Tremere. "What you would have of me then, wizard-king?"

Strauss gave a thin smile, getting up and pacing the room a bit. "The anarchs feel that they don't need the structure and discipline of the Camarilla. I feel that they pose a threat, both to those loyal to the Camarilla and to themselves. Most are mere children, and need our guidance." He paused, and turned back to The Fledgling. "If you succeed in finding the cause of this epidemic and putting an end to it, I will compensate you appropriately for your efforts."

There it was: once more, the older ones wanted the younger one to carry out their whims and wishes. "And what of my reward, wizard-king?"

"I will ponder the nature of your payment while you are gone." Strauss gave a small nod. "Believe me, I will treat you fairly, neonate. And your service to the Camarilla won't be forgotten."

After a moment of pondering, Amara rose to her feet. "I shall do this deed. My shadow darken other domains. Farewell." She adjusted her unipack and made her way to the door.

The room is simplicity itself: as one enters, to the right there is a dinette nook, with pantry, fridge, counter, sink and a microwave oven. Further in on the same side, the door to the bathroom.

At the left side of the room, there is a couch, a large double bed and a dresser.

On the middle of the room, a low table with a portable CD player.

Again, waking up.

From the darkness of slumber and the strange dreams of madness, to full awareness of the material world: dim light, a room without windows, satin sheets.

And the memories of the previous night.

***************************************

It all started with the return to the Asylum after the ruckus at the Gallery Noir; Jeannette was nowhere to be found, but Therese was there, waiting and fuming.

"You! What were you thinking?!?" It was the first time the Fledgling had heard the Dark Daughter of Janus raise her voice, and it was not a pleasant experience: irritated, Therese used a shrill tone, full of menace.

"The museum! That was MY event! Did you think I wouldn't find out?!? I thought I could control my sister as long as Tung was out of the picture, but nothing's changed! I should've expected that you'd succumb to Jeanette's influence like all the others. Jeanette already confessed she tricked you into doing it! It was probably all Tung's idea - I'll deal with them later. But that's still no excuse for you ruining my museum."

The Fledgling (she has a name -- Amara -- given to her by Bliss) tilted her head, the angry words skidding across the surface of her minds. "I don't know what your lips are saying: our word-bond held no clauses." She pulled out the pendant found at the hotel and offered it. "I've brought you the ghostly bauble as you demanded. Free the worm."

"At least that." Therese snatched away the pendant. "But my museum is still wrecked. Now, if you'd like to atone, or if you'd like to provide further assurance of your innocence, I have one more task that has to be dealt with."

The Fledgling watched with a creased brow: in theory, their deal was finished with the delivery of the pendant, but Jeanette had tricked her into the feud between the sisters. "I tire of the mendacities of Janus' daughters. My concern is only for the Jester's quest."

"Don't you think I'm aware of that?" Therese sneered. "This is my city - I know everything that goes on from borders to beach. But listen to me, fledgling. If you want to please your Prince, you'll do what I ask - I'll make it easy this time."

"How might this deed be done, Dark Daughter?" Done and over with, hoped the neonate.

"Jeanette and Tung are a noisome beauty and beast. Between them they've nearly crippled my plans. I can control Jeanette, but once she's found a partner in crime, she turns into a bloody nuisance." Therese drew a deep breath, a very human-like action, as she recomposed her business facade. "I made some threats against my sister - idle threats - involving fire and her impious satin sheets. She took them quite seriously and is avoiding me. I want to meet with her and explain that they were said in the heat of the moment."

The Fledgling did not even try to hide the smirk. "You underestimate the White Princess."

Therese almost snarled then, nearly losing her cool a second time. "Underestimate her? She's a clown! A painted, perverted joker on Tung's strings! Jeanette does things on a whim - for amusement. Underestimate her - don't insult me!" Another deep, unnecessary breath and she continued. "Still, Jeanette is my sister and my childe. I want her back."

"What further quest then, Dark One?"

"I asked her to meet me at The Surfside Diner, to reconcile, but I'm busy with the club and my other endeavors. I'd like you to go to the diner and promise her that I don't plan to take any action against her. Wait for her in the back booth, near the phones."

"Roses for her when they should be stones, dear Baron." The Fledgling did not like the idea of socializing with the one who had fooled her not long ago.

It was Therese's turn to smirk. "For all her unwholesome diversions and irritating disruptions, I should be less tolerant of her. She is my sister, however. You will bring her my reassurances and convince her to return. Then we can finish this whole affair."

"We will, then my shadow will darken other domains." There was no point arguing so the Fledgling turned to leave.

"Be quick about it, neonate." Therese spoke as a parting shot. "I want it over and done with as much as you do."

***************************************

The Surfside Diner was one of the classic style 'silver trailers', at least at first glance. A long bar ran from near the door all the way to near the restrooms and the payphones, with booths lining the opposite wall. It was empty at the time but for the silver-haired lady behind the register and a single waiter.

Following Therese's instructions, the Fledgling made her way to the back, towards the last booth; as she approached her destination, the bell at the door chimed, indicating a new arrival, perhaps Jeanette. The vampire turned to check, and was greeted by the sight three gang members drawing revolvers, and a fourth pulling a shotgun out from his coat.

Time does not slow down, perception and action do: a human would probably freeze with the discharge of adrenaline for a single, too long moment. A vampire, whose reactions are dependent on will and will alone, does not. The Fledgling did not, leaping back and to the side, behind the last booth, while hot lead whizzed past, a few projectiles grazing her skin.

The armed men laughed, stopping to reload after the first volley, taunting their target. Their happy disposition changed to surprise when Amara snapped out of cover, her revolver in hand, and placed a bullet into the gut of the one carrying the shotgun.

She tried to aim for the chest, but they did not need to know. Trusting the resilience of her undead flesh, The Fledgling fired twice upon the second thug, and twice more upon the last one, feeling their erratic return shots make holes on her clothing but barely injure the skin underneath. As quickly as it started, the confrontation was over.

On cue, the payphone closest to her started ringing, and moved by an impulse of the Madness, Amara picked up. "Speak."

The voice on the line was tainted with fright and rushed. "Oh, I'm so relieved you're safe! I wanted to warn you when I heard it was a setup, but Therese pulled a gun on me and I locked myself in the bathroom and she's threatening to kill me an-and you have to help me!"

"You are biblically known to many. Your words are poison, your minds betrayal. Call another." The gun was comfortingly warm in her hand, and The Fledgling started to reload it, more to feel the warmth than from any idea of needing it to kill again.

"It was a setup! Listen, I know we've had our differences, but Therese tried to have you killed! Now she's got a gun and - please, you have to help me!" Was it a bad sign that the fear in Jeanette's voice echoed sweet? "She's crazy! She paid those thieves for a hit. She'll kill anyone who gets in the way of her becoming the top dog of Santa Monica." A gunshot echoed down the line, then angry hammering of a fist upon a door.

"White mistress, why did you bind me to these railroad tracks?" The Fledgling closed the revolver's cylinder, slipping the tool of death back into her monopack.

"Therese is going to kill us! Without me you'll never get out of Santa Monica alive.

"I will deal with the dark daughter, Ivory Goddess. But not for you." She hung up, moving to the front of the diner and the cooling bodies of the thugs. The owner and the waiter were hiding behind the counter, wisely not trying to look anywhere.

Quickly, Amara relieved the dead of their money and weapons, the sawed-off shotgun fitting inside her monopack snugly. She had enough of being played for a fool, and it was time to set things straight with the Voerman sisters.

***************************************

Surprisingly, nobody stopped her exit from the diner nor her entrance into the Asylum. The elevator took Amara up to the Vorman Sisters' private quarters, and she took the care of reloading the shotgun before entering...

...to the sight of... who? Stockings, skirt and high heels like Jeanette, shirt and suit jacket like Therese, hair half in a ponytail and half in a professional comb-over.

"You!" The voice was Therese's, the expression one of hatred, and she whipped out a revolver. "You stay out of this! To think anyone would risk their life for this filthy, tainted waste of blood! This will just make it easier to kill both of you." Then it melted into the softer tone of Jeanette, and a mask of fear. "Help! She'll kill us both! Save me and I'll help you find Bertram, I swear!"

The Fledgling actually lowered her weapon, taken completely by surprise. "What strange fate-twists befall us?"

Again the rage... "Shut up, Jeanette! I warned you to stay away from Tung - he's turned you against me! I always looked out for you! But you couldn't stand my success. You had to meddle, didn't you? I didn't want it to end like this but you forced me!" And now, mocking laughter from Jeanette. "You never gave me any credit for anything, Therese! I was the one calling the shots! Bertram was dancing on my leash! How does it feel to know that I beat you?"

Two women. Two minds. One body. The Fledgling watched, between terrified and fascinated. "Sweet Darkness? Ivory Princess?"

"I'm about to rid the night of this deviant, back-stabbing whore! Do you realize that, despite her condition, she still... fornicates - with kine, no less! So despicable... so unclean. You're one to talk, dear sister, or should I say Daddy's Little Girl. Do you want to know just how depraved the Baron of Santa Monica can be? Shut up, Jeanette! You'd love the world to think you're a saint. When you thought I was asleep, I used to hear father come in at night. I heard him whisper how much he loved you in your ear before he - Don't finish that sentence or you're dead!"

Terrifying... griding against each other, the sisters took over voice and face and demeanor. No wonder things came to this end. "Both of you. Cease this quarrel."

"Don't you want to hear what happened? How she became the pillar of the community she is today? Shut UP Jeanette, just... SHUT UP! Therese'll never let you live. You've disappointed her. I used you, yes, but I didn't try to have you killed. Therese has no problem with killing, do you? Remember Father? Father loved me. I was a good girl. I always did what I was told. You always hated that he loved me. You disobeyed him. You brought men home when he wasn't there. You were an awful daughter to him. Father came home drunk one day and mistook me for Therese, because I'd fallen asleep in her bed. Therese walked in while he was there and she saw me lying with him. And so, she went to the closet and pulled out his hunting shotgun, loaded it with deershot, and blew his mind out all over the silly clown wallpaper. Don't listen to her! She's lying!"

"Broken before Madness." Amara's anger had fled, replaced with curiosity. "History's shadow need not fall on you both. The past is a worn garment - dispose of it." Or they would destroy each other? The Fledgling was unsure if she could survive the conflict with two vampires, older and very much more insane than herself.

"That's a lie! Father killed himself because of Jeanette. She made him miserable! Oh dear sister, as I recall, he died with a smile on his face." That makes Therese sober up out of her anger. "I'm afraid, sister, I must write your ending in this family's saga, and I want you to know I do so with great anguish and disappointment. I had such hopes that you'd change for the better, with my guidance. But... Oh, cut the act, sister. Would you like to tell the story? She makes herself out to be the virgin queen of the night. Pious as a nun, stable as the Earth's orbit. But it's all an act, isn't it? Father had his way with you. And he didn't have to force you, you went limp and became his plaything. Do you think I didn't hear it, night after night? Always the obedient daughter, until..." Therese's voice breaks down to a near-wail. "I'm the good girl. You're the wicked one. You've done nothing but plot against me - when I had our best interests at heart. And despite that, I've always covered up your mistakes. I've taken care of you. And this is how you repay me? Dear sister, you've done everything you could to smother me. You'd love to bury me in your closet, along with all your other skeletons."

"You two share the same skin. Do you really wish to be rid of each other?" The Fledgling set her gun aside. "Two faces can clench two brass rings. Bodies are symmetrical - plenty of room for two minds to share."

"Therese doesn't like to share. Jeanette's irresponsible. She's undependable. A venture like mine requires class and distinction, which is something a pig-tailed, face-painting harlot does not lend very well. You do have a way with words, sister. You're right, I'm not in the same class, am I? I mean, murderers are so respectful these days." But at least they seemed to be listening.

"Dark one, let the light carry more of the burden. White mistress, stand not in the way of the dark one's plans." She slowly offered a hand. "Was there never a time when you looked each other in the eye?"

"Yes... there was a time. When I was a child, I didn't have many friends. I suppose Jeanette was the only one. We never did get to go out of the house much. Father wouldn't allow us. He said we'd get hurt. So we stayed inside and we imagined our own worlds. And we spent so much time there, together, ruling over those places. Those were - - happier times. Before we grew apart."

"You don't really wish to become an only child?" The neonate reached out further. "Give me the gun, Therese."

The older vampire looked curiously at the weapon in her hand, then gave it away. "No... I guess I don't. Jeanette: if I were to give - offer you equal control in Santa Monica, would you quit consorting with Tung? Oh sister, I never wanted to hurt you. I'll stop working against you with him... but since I've got him in my pocket already, there's no reason for me not to pay him a little visit once in a while, when he can be of use. That's not a bad plan. There's just one more thing: I want to be in charge of Santa Monica - but only publicly. I want you to continue to convince others that our relations are strained. That way - - we know who our enemies are. I agree."

It was a strange sight, the Voerman Sisters hugging herself. "We share the same sweet madness, daughters of Janus. But now I must disturb the Worm."

"I suppose now that Jeanette and I have settled our differences, I'll call off the feud with Tung." Therese nodded. "Bertram's hiding in an empty oil tank at the old gas station. I'll tell him to expect a visitor, and I'll ask him to be extra nice. Please give Santa Monica's regards to the prince when you see him. And keep your tongue tied about what happened tonight or we'll have to - - kill you." And both smirked teasingly.

That made what could be a chill run down Amara's back. "I understand. I am gone."

"Do try to stay cautious. I'd hate to see one so promising meet an end because of wayward trust in another. I may have need of someone like you in a few years... if you're still around. Don't hesitate to come see me once in a while. I mean, I do get bored so easily. Maybe you could come by and cheer me up?"

***************************************

She rose from her bed, getting dressed for her encounter with Tung. Hopefully her stay in Santa Monica would be getting to an end soon.

The Asylum.

Seeing the nightclub again was a relief of sorts, since for better of for worse, things would be resolved.

The Fledgling was as ready to the final movements of the game with the Voerman sisters as possible: she had time to feed and heal, and Mercurio was more than happy to provide for her other needs, helping her get new clothes, new stompy boots, and an unipack to carry a few essentials.

It felt good to be clean and un-injured again.

The nightclub took her in like an old friend, and for a long moment the vampire immersed herself in the thrum of music and the echoes of the minds around her, all seeking an escape from harsh reality.

Then it was time for business. The barman probably did not hear her question, just waved the fledgling over to the elevators, and she could read on his lips they are waiting for you. No surprises there, she moved to the far corner of the room and took the elevator to the upper floor, exiting into the narrow, short hallway that led to the private chambers of the Voerman sisters.

Without bothering with knocking, she pushed the door open and walked in, to be greeted by... Jeannette. The Ivory Princess, she of the teasing voice, alluring mind and enticing body. "Oh, how odd, I was just having naughty thoughts about you. You made quite an impression earlier. Did you come up just to cheer lonely, little me?"

There was something about the older vampire that made the fledgling pause before answering. "I seek the Dark Daughter, She of Obsidian."

"Therese is out making a show of how well her lips fit on the pants seat of the Camarilla." Jeannette laughed. "Did you happen to find her chastity belt or something?"

"I have a bauble for the Daughter of Darkness." The Fledgling felt again the waves of the Ivory Princess' allure. "I stole it from a spirit."

"Ooh, can I see it?" Jeannette moved closer, a sparkling smile but predator's eyes. The Fledgling found herself divided between handing the pendant over or handing herself over, to be consumed and done with.

The confusion allowed one of her Voices to speak up and steer the conversation to safer waters. Maybe. "Look you may. Only for the hands of your sister." She brought out the silver pendant on its silver chain, the soft light of the room making it glint.

"Ah! It's beautiful." Jeannette cooed in that same bedroom voice, "Like a knight in shining armor... dangling at the end of a noose."

The comparison made the fledgling smile. "Yes! Neck-wrung and armored! The Dark Daughter promised the Worm's release for it."

Jeannette laughed again, shaking head, and her voice dropped a seductive octave. "Oh, did she now? I spend a few nights with Bertram and all of a sudden he's the pox of Santa Monica. Paranoia and Therese have been bedfellows for longer than I can remember." Oh, that smirk on full, bright red lips. "There are nuns that sin more often then her. In fact, she won't even feed unless it's poured into a glass for her. Myself... I like to bite."

"You and me both, White Princess. Can you help me find the Worm?"

"I wish I could do something about it, but Bertram won't believe it's off until he hears Therese say it's off. And as I told you, I'm really not sure where Therese is. However..." She pondered a moment. "I do know something you could do for us in the meantime... something that would make us very grateful, kitten."

The Fledgling held her silence, tilting head at the other vampire, and waited for her to continue.

"You've got my sympathy, really you do. Help me and I can show my appreciation in a lot more creative ways than Therese ever could." Jeannette grinned, "Do you know Gallery Noir, down the street? I happen to know there's a charity event being organized there. Lots of the influential Santa Monicans slithering in for token appearances. But there's one thing they don't know... The whole event's been set up by a Kindred trying to establish their own power clique in our city. And we can't let that happen, can we? So I need some brilliant young upstart to spoil the milk."

The Fledgling would have sighed if drawing breath were a natural reaction for her: more kindred politics. "What need have you, Ivory Princess?"

"I promise this won't take long. Take this knife." The older vampire handed over a sharp blade. "Give the paintings in the gallery a good slashing. Don't get caught and don't turn it into a massacre. And steal the donation box, would you? Every pretty penny dropped in that box is going right into some other Kindred's purse. Buy yourself something velvet."

The Fledgling took the blade, and shrugged; it seemed simple enough, and easy enough. "Slashing is now my existence."

"I'm sure Therese will be thrilled to honor your agreement when you get back. But in the meantime, get to the museum and ruin those paintings, then pay me a visit. I want to hear all about it...."

The Fledgling nodded, ready to leave, but paused at the door to cast a glance back at Jeannette. "I remember sweet things together. But can we enjoy them undead?"

Once again, the ironic smirk, and predator's eyes. "If your inside's anything like your outside, you're anything but dead. We do it like what all suede kittens do... on hands and knees, you lap up the milk of me... and we purr, kitten, like dragonflies buzzing around frog bellies." She moved closer to the younger vampire, walking with a feline step. "Two minds as crazy as ours, and who knows just what might happen?"

The Fledgling stopped there, hand on the doorknob, unsure of what Jeannette was doing: natural allure, or something of the Blood, some strange power of Madness?

"I'm the finger down your spine when all the lights are out. I'm the name on all the men's room walls. When I pout, the whole world tries to make me smile..." continued the Ivory Princess, punctuating her seductive speech with a teasing giggle. "I can tell you and I are going to get along just like fire hoses."

The Neonate tried to dispel some of the tension with humor. "You mean we're both rolled up and twisted?"

It failed.

"No... when we get turned on, there's bound to be flames." Jeannette leaned closer, her breath soft and sweet against the Fledgling's cool skin. "Now hurry up, I can only amuse myself for so long."

The younger vampire found herself being gently but firmly pushed outside, dazed until the click of the door brought her back. Her cold flesh was tingling as if it were still thrumming with life.

She moved to the elevator, in a sudden hurry to please the Ivory Princess.

The Fledgling was never so glad for her heavy boots as in the moment she started the climb out of the Access Point A of Santa Monica sewers. Part of her minds were quite sure Therese Voerman sent her that way on purpose...

The earlier meeting with the Voerman sisters was nothing but a large dish of disturbing with a small side of enlightening. First, she met with the White Daughter of Janus, Jeanette...

Oooh, what do we have here? Another scrumptious young plaything straight out of life and into my club? Mmm... you smell new, little girl, like fabric softener dew on freshly mowed Astroturf. Oh, I'm not frightening you, am I, duckling?

...

Truth is, she was. She was because Mercurio had warned the Fledgling of Jeanette's fame of indecent behaviour, and she had scoffed at it. It turned out that Jeanette was all that Mercurio meant and much, much more: ivory skin, skimpy clothes parodying a schoolgirl's uniform, covering little of her luscious build.

And a voice that was full of promises and dares. The neonate found herself staring in awe, only half-remembering the stream of flirting and innuendo spouted by that pale she-devil.

Vampires should not feel those things.

The meeting with the Dark Daughter, Therese, went worse than The Fledgling expected as well: Jeanette's sister seemed to be an aspiring Prince Lacroix, with all the arrogance but less grace.

It turned out that the grudge was petty and personal, with Therese incensed at Bertram Tung dating Jeanette. Of course the Dark Daughter made claims of insults that almost made her sound reasonable, but... were not. To call off the grudge and allow Bertram out of hiding without having to fear for his (un)life, Therese demanded a task done, a deed performed as sign of good faith.

Pushing the heavy metal cover out of the way, the Fledgling emerged to a demolition site on an area overlooking the beach and the ocean. Heavy machinery, a shed, and beyond that, a four-story building, the Ocean House Hotel.

Therese bought the property planning to raze the old construction to raise something new, but a little detail stalled her plan: the place was haunted. Aggressively haunted it seemed, since poltergeist phenomena had scared away several demolition crews. The Dark Daughter wanted The Fledgling to scour the building, to discover who was the ghost, and to find some personal possession that could be used as focus for an exorcism.

It seemed like a wild goose chase in a dark room with your feet tied together, but there was little choice on the matter: Therese had promised she would keep her end of the bargain, and The Fledgling had to uphold hers too.

Retrieving the hotel keys from a locker inside the shed, she made her way to the front doors: just as the vampire reached to unlock the entrance, the light fixture to the right exploded, showering her with fragments of glass.

Not a welcoming sign.

Entering through the front door, the vampire viewed a building that was at one time an elegant luxury hotel; now the rich walls showed signs of water damage, the thick carpeting was littered with debris from the decaying ceiling, and cobwebs and dust were everywhere. As she moved deeper into the once grand structure, it was clear some otherworldly entity was present, a strange chill that was not cold filling the atmosphere. Light bulbs glowed and shattered as she passed, the chandelier began vibrating and plunged to the floor barely missing her, and a half glimpsed shape of a woman could be seen rushing away.

Following the specter, The Fledgling rushed up a stair case, only to fall through the decaying floor boards to the sub basement, landing on a pile of debris painfully. A human would have broken several bones, but vampire flesh was much more resilient. Recovering quickly from the shock, she got to her feet again, none for the worse but for the dust, grime and cobwebs.

Moving though the hallways, trying to find a way back upstairs, she found newspapers yellow with age among the trash that littered the floor. The front pages told the story of a horrible killing that had taken place in this very hotel years before: a child's severed head had been found in a laundry dryer and police were stunned by the brutality of the crime and the carnage that had been left behind.

Suddenly the woman's shadow was visible again, running down a side passage, and the vampire followed her into a room filled with pipes and large boiler tanks. Through this maze she saw another figure: a man carrying an ax, moving with his head hung low. Calling upon the powers of her Blood, she made herself one with the nothingness of her mind, fading from view, and slowly made her way past the tank that was in between them. She rounded the corner and found - nothing. Thinking he had fled deeper into the mass of pipes, the vampire continued on, her nerves on edge as she waited for the attack that had to come.

Another turn lead The Fledgling to a room with a panel enclosed by chain link fence: closer inspection revealed that the panel was the master power switch. Throwing the lever brought the shriek of metal against metal as the generator coughed and the lights began to flicker back to life. The walls began to tremble slightly as she headed back the way she had come, feeling a bit more relaxed now that the lights were on. Of course, turning on the lights would warn anyone or anything in the hotel of her presence, but when the thought occurred to her, it was just too late for a change of plans.

Exploring the rest of the basement, the vampire saw a door she had missed in the dark and through it came into a large kitchen, visibly less dilapidated than the rest of the building. Pots and pans hung over the large stove in the center of the room, cabinets and a large sink lined the walls.

And on a corner rested a leather-bound book, closed with a simple lockable clasp.

A diary.

Sitting on the counter, The Fledgling opened the simple lock with ease, using the lockpick she had received from the cab driver nights ago. What she did read on those pages was disturbing, tragic and... predictable. A tale of mistrust and misdoings that ended in death.

Wife gets a beautiful necklace from her mother.
Husband thinks it's from another man.
Husband becomes convinced his wife has cheated on him.
Husband decides their daughter is not his daughter.
Husband mistreats his wife and child.
Husband goes completely batshit crazy.
Husband murders daughter.
Wife finds out and tries to escape.

The last entrance in the diary reads "He must know I know. I have to escape. He is coming for me tonight."

Of course she did not escape, hence the miasma of despair, hate and death; time to see if the necklace can be found somewhere, since as the focal point of the crisis, it must be the key to ending the haunting as well.