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  A Novel for VAMPIRE: The Masquerade
  TM
   
  
  
  
   
   
  1 
  JACK 
  SNOW 
  Written by Henrik Kraft 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   © 
  2018 
  White 
  Wolf 
  Entertainment AB. All rights 
  reserved. 
  Vampire: 
  The 
  Masquerade®, 
  World 
  of 
  Darkness®, 
  Storytelling 
  System™, and Storytellers 
  Vault™ 
  are 
  trademarks 
  and/ or registered trademarks 
  of White Wolf Entertainment AB. All rights reserved.  
  For additional information on White Wolf and the World of Darkness, 
  please, visit: www.white-wolf.com, www.worldofdarkness.com and 
  www.storytellersvault.com. 
  
  2  
  Table of Contents 
   
  Chapter 1 
  3 
   
  Chapter 2 
  15 
   
  Chapter 3 
  30 
   
  Chapter 4 
  50 
   
  Special Thanks 
  56
  
   
  3 
   
   
  Chapter 1 
  From An Abrupt End, To 
  An Abrupt Beginning 
   
   
   
   
  New Orleans, Louisiana 
  May 24th, 2009 
  It had been a rough night for Jack Snow. He woke up in his 
  bed, sweating and panting for fresh air, as none was to be 
  found in the hot and humid bedroom of the small, cramped 
  apartment he lived in. He could only vaguely remember the 
  night before. He’d gone to the club with his friends, and he’d 
  seen this girl, all pretty like. They’d danced, and he was pretty 
  sure they’d made out, too. Feeling a wrenching in his gut, he 
  rushed out of bed and into the small bathroom. He just 
  barely made it to the toilet in time to release his stomach’s 
  content into the bowl. He heaved, and for what seemed like 
  hours, he sat on his knees in front of the toilet. 
  I am never drinking again. 
  But he knew that wasn’t true. He knew, that come the next 
  weekend, he would be out partying with his buddies again. 
  Or, at least, what buddies he had left. Jack was just over thirty, 
  his best friends had already settled down, gotten steady, 
  decent jobs, and even made families. Jack was thirty–four, 
  single, and a bachelor through and through. As it was, 
  though, he seriously regretted his life–choice of the night. It 
  
  4 
  had been pretty fun, evidenced by his lack of memory of most 
  of it. He weakly stood on wobbly, sleeping legs prickling with 
  the sensation of thousands of needles, and flushed the toilet 
  before he leant over the sink. He rinsed his mouth with water, 
  then splashed some in his face to cool down his hear. He 
  rubbed the water on his throat, the back of his neck, and his 
  arms. He then dabbed at his face, throat and arms with the 
  towel hanging next to the sink. 
  I should probably start washing soon. I’m running out of clothes. 
  Pushing the though aside, he stumbled back into the 
  bedroom/ living room and over to a window. He opened it to 
  see that the sun was setting again. And the breeze that slapped 
  him in the face instantly calmed him, soothed him. He felt 
  the almost–cool breeze sweep over him, and he closed his eyes 
  to relish the sensation. He then turned around and let 
  himself fall on the bed. He plopped down and laid in the bed 
  for a few minutes, but he quickly grew restless. He then got 
  up and changed his clothes, before leaving his apartment. 
  ••• 
  Jack walked down the streets of the Garden District, the 
  part of New Orleans he’d grown up in. He remembered 
  running around with his school friends after school let out, 
  trying to decide whether to go to the park, or to get pizza. Life 
  had been so carefree, back then. Now, he had trouble holding 
  down a job, he couldn’t for the life of him find a steady 
  girlfriend (God knew he’d tried), and his best friends these 
  days consisted of college kids. Granted, time had been kind 
  to him, and he looked no older than his mid–twenties, not 
  to mention that he had quite dashing looks. But he felt his 
  age. He felt tired all the time, he barely got any motivation, 
  and he’d tried looking to the bottle for purpose. It was a shitty 
  
   
  5 
  try, but it was a try all the same. 
  Jack sighed deeply as he passed his childhood home. He 
  stopped and looked up at it with a nostalgic, and dreadful 
  feeling in his gut. He’d lived there until he turned fourteen. 
  It was also the house his mother had died in, passed away 
  from a brain tumor. His father had died when he was twenty, 
  from mercury–poisoning. His father had always been careless 
  when it came to his personal health and safety, and breaking 
  a thermometer, then swallowing by accident, had been the 
  greatest concern he’d ever had, but he ate fish all the time, 
  and had eaten a lot of snake, as well. All those things 
  combined almost guaranteed his death, and at one point it 
  had just become too bad. Okay, so maybe mercury poisoning 
  wasn’t the biggest cause of his death; that had been the pistol 
  he’d stuck in his mouth, while Jack was at school. The police 
  had tried to be gentle about explaining it to him, but he’d 
  gotten the gist of it after the first sentence or two; his father 
  had committed suicide to escape the pain. 
  Jack looked away from the house, now inhabited by a small 
  family of four, parents and twin boys. When they’d been told 
  the stories of what happened in the house, they’d tracked 
  down Jack, invited him over for dinner and expressed their 
  condolences. They were nice people, really. Jack liked them a 
  lot. He babysitted the boys from time to time after that. Harry 
  and Jolene, with their sons Eric and Jack. Jack had been 
  amused to learn their youngest son (by two hours) shared his 
  name. The man then walked down the street and turned 
  right. He was nearing the border of the French Quarter, and 
  he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go there. He’d heard stories 
  from his pals living there, that a lot of weird things happened 
  at night. Shrugging it off, Jack continued on, ignoring his old 
  friends’ advice. 
  
  6 
  Wandering through the streets and alleys of the New 
  Orleans district, he took notice that it was a lot quieter 
  tonight than he’d ever expected of it. Usually, the parties and 
  music and parades could be heard throughout the 
  surrounding districts, but tonight, it was deadly quiet. Jack 
  was almost afraid to talk. When he reached the infamous 
  Bourbon Street, he was shocked to find it deserted. He 
  looked around, but not a single person was in sight. But then 
  a ‘crack’, like a pistol going off, resounded through the 
  streets, soon followed by what he could only assume was a 
  barrage of bullets being shot, just a few streets down. 
  “This a fucking gang war!?” he muttered to himself, his 
  somewhat hungover brain scared sober. 
  He turned back and was leaving, only to see two figures 
  passing the alley he was in. He stopped dead in his tracks, but 
  before he did, he accidentally kicked a tin can. His heart 
  started pounding, sweat formed on his brow, and he felt his 
  bladder tightening. The two figures stopped as well and 
  looked into the alley. One of them, he saw despite the 
  darkness of absent light in the alley, was that one of the men’s 
  eyes were glowing! The two then started towards him, slowly. 
  Jack finally regained control of his body and stumbled 
  backwards. He turned and ran, ran faster than he ever had. 
  It didn’t amount to anything, as he soon felt a foot lightly tap 
  his own back foot, causing it to get caught by his leg, and he 
  stumbled roughly onto the ground, face first. He scrambled 
  to continue, desperately. His breath had become panting, and 
  his heart was beating so quickly, he thought it might explode. 
  He felt his control of his bladder slip, and a warm liquid 
  made its way down onto the ground as he dragged his legs 
  through it. 
  
   
  7 
  One of the men behind him howled in laughter. 
  “The wimp fuckin’ pissed himself!” he roared loudly, and 
  then, unexpectedly, he howled like a wolf. 
  Jack didn’t understand what was happening, but he felt a 
  hand roughly grab his shoulder in a vice grip, to the point 
  that he felt like his arm would come off. He hissed in pain 
  and was turned over. 
  “Ple–please don’t kill me!” Jack pleaded, a little blood 
  dripping from his forehead, tears streaming down his cheeks 
  and with thoroughly wet pants. “I–I’ll give you anything!” 
  The man who grabbed him looked like his face had been 
  to see a body–modification artist recently; spikes were 
  protruding from his forehead, piercings lined his face in 
  strange patterns, there were abnormal features to it, and the 
  most gruesome part was his eyes, which seemed wholly 
  inhuman. More like those of a frog, or goat. They were yellow 
  with horizontal, rectangular pupils. Jack looked at the hand 
  holding his shoulder, and realized it had six fingers, all of 
  which seemed like long, thin branches with sharp points. He 
  looked back at the man’s face, and when the man smiled 
  wickedly, his teeth were like those of a shark. Two rows of 
  extremely sharp teeth, likely being easily capable of sawing 
  Jack in half. To top it off, he was dressed like an old punk–
  biker, with leather jacket over a bare torso, tight leather pants 
  and big biker boots. Jack was happy he hadn’t eaten anything 
  in almost a day, so that pissing himself was the most 
  humiliating thing he could do, but his mind didn’t register 
  that little silver lining. The man, or monster, or thing holding 
  him leant close and peered deeply into his eyes, looking for 
  something. Jack cringed away, but dared not close his eyes, 
  fearful that the creature would hurt him if he did. 
  
  8 
  “I see,” the thing said with a ghoulish smirk. “You just 
  might be what I’ve been looking for, kine.” 
  Before Jack could understand and register what the beast 
  had said, it pulled Jack towards itself, and roughly bit into his 
  neck. Jack screamed from the agony, the feeling of the sharp 
  teeth cutting into his throat and the creature simultaneously 
  crushing his shoulder making him unable to think. He just 
  screamed and roared and yelled in pain, until his voice cut 
  out, and he felt his mind slip. He became limp, and he briefly 
  wondered if he’d died. 
  What a mercy. The pain… 
  But soon, he felt again. He felt something cold and wet drip 
  onto his lips. Despite himself, he let his tongue out of his 
  mouth, and lapped at the wet substance. And it was heavenly! 
  Soon, something was pressed to his mouth, and more of the 
  divine and wonderful liquid came out of it, so Jack, using the 
  last bit of his strength, grabbed the thing close and started 
  needily suckling on whatever it was. Soon, it was torn from 
  him, and he growled. He opened his eyes and sat up, only to 
  see the man with the glowing eyes swing what could only be 
  classified as a shovel straight towards Jack’s face. And despite 
  seeing it coming, Jack was struck right on the nose, and 
  blacked out, once more. 
  ••• 
  When he came to once more, he felt an oppressing weight 
  all around him, and started to panic. He opened his eyes, but 
  saw nothing but darkness, and something like dust or sand 
  fell into his eyes. He also felt something tasting like dirt in his 
  mouth, and tried to spit it out, but he couldn’t. He tried 
  moving, but whatever surrounded him didn’t budge in the 
  
   
  9 
  slightest. 
  Jack then felt something he’d never experienced in his 
  chest. A panic, much like his own. He felt it claw at his chest, 
  and he tried harder to sit up, but he couldn’t. 
  What is this!? What’s going on!? 
  And then, connecting the dots, Jack’s panic turned up to 
  eleven. 
  DID THEY BURY ME ALIVE!? HELP! HELP! 
  But Jack, deep down, knew no one would help him. And 
  the panic in his chest fought harder, and Jack was helpless as 
  he felt something wash over him. He’d never felt so lost, so out 
  of control, but Jack felt his limbs starting to move on their 
  own. His fingers slowly but surely dug out small crevices, 
  allowing his hands to move. He roughly wriggled his feet, and 
  without ever consciously moving his limbs, Jack put so much 
  force into moving his left foot, that he heard and felt his 
  ankle ‘snap’! He would have screamed in pain, but he felt 
  nothing from the broken appendage. His body continuously 
  moved, strengthened by an unknown force, and slowly 
  clawed his way out of his unmarked grave. Jack was both 
  scared, angry, sad and thankful. But something was definitely 
  off, as he couldn’t take control of his own body. He was 
  reduced to being a passenger within himself, and whatever 
  this thing was, he was sure it was furious! He could feel the 
  anger flow throughout his mind and body, but it was 
  noticeably separate from himself. 
  Soon, his right hand breached the surface of the ground, 
  and relief washed over him. Punching out his other hand, he 
  grabbed the earth around his grave, and pulled himself out. 
  As he breached the surface, he instinctively let out a furious 
  
  10 
  howl, roaring into the night. He felt the anger and fright 
  subside, but as they did, his broken left ankle started hurting 
  again. And it hurt quite a lot. Jack pulled himself fully out of 
  the grave, rolled over on the ground and looked up at the sky. 
  He spat out the dirt in his mouth and smiled with relief. 
  “I’m alive,” he breathed out with a raspy voice. “I’m alive!” 
  “Not quite,” came the voice of a man with an off–British 
  accent. Jack had heard real Brits speak, and they didn’t sound 
  like that. 
  He whipped around to see the two men who’d attacked 
  him lying on the ground with pieces of wood sticking out of 
  their backs, right below their shoulders. On a small case, 
  which could have contained beer or torture tools, for all Jack 
  cared, sat a man, looking about as old as Jack himself. His 
  hair was dirty blond, and his eyes were as blue as the noon 
  sky. He was resting his arms on his knees, and was wearing 
  all–black, practical clothing, as compared to Jack’s party 
  clothes, or the creature’s punk outfit. He had a very short 
  beard a few shades darker than his hair, and his face held a 
  small smile. Not sadistic, like the one the disfigured man had, 
  but a genuine smile. 
  “I’m glad to see you made it out alright,” he said calmly. “I 
  would have dug you out, but I had no idea of your actual 
  placement, and I could have cut you in half with the spade if 
  I had just dug.” 
  Jack didn’t say anything. He just stared at the man and 
  studied him. The man slowly extended a hand. 
  “I’m David,” he said politely. “Good to meet you, Jack.” 
  “H–how do you know my name?” he stammered out. 
  
   
  11 
  David took back his hand but kept up the smile. 
  “I looked in your wallet,” he said and pointed at the black 
  wallet lying next to the weird looking creature–man–thing. 
  “Jack Snow, thirty–four, living in a quiet part of the Garden 
  District,” David listed off. “Sound about right?” 
  Jack slowly nodded and tried to stand, but his ankle 
  suddenly thundered pain through his leg. He groaned in pain 
  at the sensation. David looked at his ankle, then rose from 
  the box he sat on, opened it, and pulled a few bags of some 
  red liquid out of it. He sat again and threw the bags at the 
  man with a broken ankle. 
  “Drink,” he said casually. “You’ll feel better.” 
  One of the bags had ripped open as it landed on the 
  ground, and within moments, a strong, delicious scent made 
  its way to Jack’s nostrils. It was… overwhelming. Before he 
  could react, he flung himself at it, grabbed it, and forced it to 
  his mouth. He bit it hungrily and started sucking out the 
  contents of it. He drained it in seconds, and then threw it 
  away in favor of another. He repeated the process several 
  times, each slowly subduing the sense of fire in his throat and 
  head, calming the bubbling anger in his chest. He slowly 
  regained his senses with every drop he consumed, and soon, 
  the liquid started tasting different, but not wholly unpleasant. 
  Before, it had been like honey or syrup; sweet and pleasant. 
  Now, it took on a copperier taste as the hunger he felt died 
  down. When he threw the last bag to the ground, he calmed 
  down enough to see the white label on the bags: A+. His eyes 
  widened in horror, and looked at his hands, stained with the 
  liquid he now recognized as blood. Human blood. He felt his 
  head lighten, as if he’s been drinking booze. He began 
  breathing rapidly, but he noticed that, strangely, he didn’t 
  
  12 
  feel like he needed to. He closed his mouth and stopped 
  breathing altogether. He sat quietly like that for minutes, 
  each minute making him more acutely aware of how different 
  he felt than he had just before he was smashed in the head 
  with the shovel. 
  “Don’t worry too much about it,” David said calmly as he 
  studied the man–turned–monster. “For now, just focus on 
  clearing your head.” 
  Jack couldn’t understand. Clear his head? Don’t worry? 
  “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?” Jack roared and threw 
  himself, hands outstretched, at the other man. The other 
  man tumbled backwards over the box, pulling Jack with him. 
  “WHAT’VE I BECOME!?” 
  Before anything else, the man, his face as calm as ever, 
  grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt, and used his leg to 
  throw the angry man over his head from his lying position. 
  Jack flew a good few meters before he landed roughly on his 
  back, and his ankle shot another surge of pain through his 
  leg. 
  “I haven’t done anything to you,” David said calmly as he 
  got up from his position on the ground. “You can thank the 
  Fiend over there for what you’ve become.” 
  Jack got up and turned around, fangs bared and a growl 
  leaving his throat. David seemed mildly impressed. 
  “And I see you have a natural instinct for your 
  transformation. Nice.” 
  Jack’s angry face dropped slightly, and he put his hand to 
  his teeth. Sure enough, there were two, sharp, pointy teeth 
  where his canines would have been. 
  
   
  13 
  “Fangs?” he muttered weakly, as his face fell all the way, and 
  he fell to his knees. “I… I’m…” 
  “A vampire,” David finished for the man, and slowly made 
  his way over. “A Tzimisce, as well.” 
  He came close and knelt in front of the unraveling neonate. 
  “I can’t– I can’t be a–” Jack tried to utter, but he couldn’t 
  get the word out. He felt his eyes tear up, and his vision 
  strangely became red at the bottom. He felt like he would 
  have sobbed, but his lungs didn’t feel like he could. He 
  clenched his jaw and eyes tightly. “I’m human…” he 
  whispered, his voice pained. 
  “You are no longer a human, Jack,” he said calmly. “But 
  that doesn’t mean you have left humanity behind.” 
  Jack didn’t move. 
  “You have to feed on blood, you can never again see the 
  light of day, and your body is undeniably dead. But your soul 
  is still there, and it is still human... –ish.” 
  Jack, more bloody tears rolling down his face, nodded with 
  a sorrowful expression, his face pulled tight in sadness. David 
  looked at the night sky, and saw it slightly brightening. 
  “We need to get to shelter,” he calmly informed Jack, who 
  nodded. 
  He wiped his face and eyes free of blood with his shirt, 
  which was now quite thoroughly ruined, just like his pants. 
  David turned around and pulled Jack onto his back. Jack was 
  slightly alarmed, but then calmed again. His ankle was 
  broken. He couldn’t walk, anyway. He just let David carry 
  him on his back and was surprised when David even started 
  
  14 
  running at quite a fast pace. Jack was even more surprised 
  when he ran at almost a dead–sprint for several blocks and 
  didn’t seem winded in the slightest when they arrived at a red 
  brick building. David carried him inside and up the stairs, 
  until they reached an apartment with the name tag ‘David 
  Kane’ on the outside. David casually opened the door, 
  revealing it hadn’t even been locked. When they entered past 
  the door, Jack swore he felt a warmth wash over him, like 
  passing under a sheet of warm water. But it was gone as 
  quickly as it had appeared, and left Jack no wiser as to its 
  nature. At that moment, Jack felt an overwhelming sense of 
  lethargy wash over him, and he blacked out before he could 
  guess what it was. 
   
  
   
  15 
   
   
   
  Chapter 2 
  Learn To Crawl… 
   
   
   
   
   
  New Orleans, Louisiana 
  May 25th, 2009 
  Jack woke up on a bed in a small, clean bedroom. There 
  was nothing but the bed, a clothesbasket and a wardrobe. 
  When he stood up from the bed, he realized he didn’t stink 
  like piss or blood anymore, and even realized he wasn’t 
  wearing his own clothes. He looked himself over in the 
  mirror on the wardrobe door and saw that he was clean and 
  freshly bathed. 
  “Thought you might not want to wake up in your old 
  clothes, soaked in blood and urine,” he heard David’s voice 
  from the doorway to the rest of the apartment. He looked 
  and saw David with a friendly smile on his face. “Feel any 
  better?” 
  Jack nodded quietly. 
  “Good,” David acknowledged, and stepped back. “Follow 
  me. We need to see the Prince.” 
  Jack did a double–take. 
  “Prince?” 
  “The vampire ruling the city,” David calmly explained. “He 
  
  16 
  decides whether a vampire is allowed to create progeny. But 
  you were embraced by a Sabbat shovelhead, so I want to 
  request of him that I take you as my own childe.” 
  Jack was a little off–put, but he nodded in agreement. He 
  looked down at the black Henley shirt, the black jeans and 
  the black Chelsea boots. He was dressed pretty stylishly, 
  actually. He noticed that David wore the same type of pants 
  and shoes, but he wore a black long–sleeved t–shirt instead. 
  David then backed out of the room and headed towards the 
  entre. Jack hastily followed him and accepted the black utility 
  jacket David handed him. David then put on a black leather 
  blazer and put up the collar. He walked out the apartment, 
  and Jack followed. 
  “So, what is this whole Sabbath spadehead thing?” 
  “Sabbat shovelhead,” David corrected with a small chuckle 
  as they left the building and walked down Royal Street. “The 
  Sabbat is a kind of radical, extremist terror organization, if 
  you will. They think vampires are meant to be monsters, and 
  they definitely live up to their reputation. They want to rule 
  mankind as the ‘blood gods’ we are,” David made air 
  quotations at the ‘blood gods’ part. “A shovelhead is a term 
  for someone embraced, or ‘turned’, by the Sabbat. They 
  embrace you, smash you in the head with a shovel, and bury 
  you in a shallow grave. You have to make your own way out.” 
  Jack got vivid flashbacks to the previous night and 
  remembered all the terror and horror he felt. 
  “It isn’t too terribly practical when there is just one, like 
  with you,” David explained further. “The way the technique 
  was invented, the Sabbat would do it to a lot of people, and 
  throw them in the same, shallow mass–grave. Then, they 
  
   
  17 
  would have to kill each other and make their way out. The 
  ones who made it would have become dehumanized and 
  desensitized to fear and remorse. When it’s just one, like with 
  you, the only thing they manage to do is terrorize you, and 
  maybe give you PTSD, but then again, such types like them 
  don’t tend to be too terribly intelligent,” David stated. “Just 
  be glad you were the only one. Else you might not have 
  survived.” 
  Jack nodded as he watched his savior. David was so calm, 
  and nice. 
  “Are most vampires like that?” he asked nervously. 
  “Far from it,” David said reassuringly. “New Orleans is a 
  Camarilla–held city, and as such, we do our best to stay 
  hidden from humanity at large. And we are far more civilized 
  in our nightly practices.” 
  They turned right down another street and walked past 
  Jackson Square. It was then that the memory struck him, as 
  he saw the hole dug in the ground of the square’s grassy earth; 
  that was where it had happened. He stumbled and threw 
  himself against the wall of the café they were passing. He slid 
  down the wall, and his eyes widened. He couldn’t feel 
  anything, not physically. But the memory, the sheer terror 
  and fear he felt, it all came rushing back. David calmly walked 
  over and knelt in front of him. He touched his finger tips to 
  Jack’s forehead. Suddenly, all the memories stopped, and he 
  calmed down. He took a few deep breaths, trying desperately 
  to find comfort in the once–comforting action, but he found 
  none, so he stopped it. He accepted the hand the now–
  standing David offered him and was smoothly pulled to his 
  feet. David smiled slightly at him, and turned back down the 
  streets, with Jack hot on his tail. They soon came to the doors 
  
  18 
  of the Cabildo, the once–Spanish government building–
  turned–museum. David opened the door and let Jack enter 
  first. 
  Inside, it was quite pretty, for a museum. Jack had never 
  been fond of them, and he had visited the Cabildo during 
  middle school, but he’d never really taken notice of just how 
  tall the ceilings were, or how elegant the halls looked. There 
  were a few chandeliers, some flags, museum items, and such 
  other things. David headed down one of the corridors, and 
  Jack quickly fell in step behind him. 
  “Unless you are directly addressed, keep quiet,” David said 
  casually. “Let me do the talking. When you answer, never 
  make snide comments or remarks, and always finish a 
  statement with ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’. Some of these aren’t adverse 
  to killing you with minor provocation, and I’m in no position 
  to stop them.” 
  Jack nodded and kept quiet. They soon reached a small 
  locale, where there were several other vampires, judging from 
  how pale they all seemed. Some of the bodyguard–looking 
  types did look human, though. Everyone was wearing some 
  type of fine clothing, either in the form of a suit, a dress or 
  some other incredibly fashionable outfit. One of them even 
  wore a 1920’s style suit, complete with a fedora and a skinny 
  mustache. It just dawned on Jack that, if vampires really were 
  immortal, then how old mustn’t such a vampire be, to be 
  unable to keep up with suit trends? 
  “Ah, David!” came a loud, boisterous voice. 
  Jack flinched slightly at the noise, but nevertheless looked 
  to the man who exclaimed it. He was a somewhat tall, good 
  looking man, with dark skin and piercing eyes, despite the 
  
   
  19 
  smile on his face. 
  “Prince Marcel,” David greeted the man back with a small 
  bow, and Jack quickly copied David. 
  “How did last night go?” the Prince asked on a slightly more 
  serious note. “There hasn’t been any more ruckus tonight.” 
  “I managed to silence sixteen of them,” David reported 
  dutifully, almost like a soldier. “I sent the rest running. I 
  could not have been so successful without the aid of your 
  ghouls, my Prince.” 
  “In defense of New Orleans, there is no such thing as 
  withheld assets,” Marcel stated with a nod. His eyes then 
  landed on Jack, who tensed up. “Who’s this?” 
  “A Tzimisce shovelhead, embraced last night,” David said, 
  which made whispers break out in the room amongst the 
  other vampires. “I managed to take out his sire before he 
  could twist the childe.” 
  “I see,” Marcel nodded and stroked his beard thoughtfully. 
  “With your approval, I would like to take him as my own 
  childe, and teach him our ways and Traditions.” 
  Marcel closely inspected Jack, making the neonate quiver 
  slightly in nervousness. 
  “You have never failed in the past,” Marcel then finally 
  stated. “He shall be your childe, and all the laws and 
  Traditions of the Camarilla shall apply to him, indoctrinated 
  by you. Besides, you are of a Sabbat clan yourself. You would 
  be the most obvious choice for a sire.” 
  “Thank you, my Prince,” David bowed his head in 
  appreciation. 
  
  20 
  Marcel nodded, and turned back to the other presumed 
  vampires. David nudged Jack, and taking the older vampire’s 
  cue, he followed him out of the room, through the halls, and 
  out of the building. 
  “What did he mean by ‘Sabbat clan’, or ‘sire’?” Jack asked 
  his newly adopted ‘sire’. 
  “The sire is the one who turned the human into a vampire,” 
  David told his childe. “Like a vampiric parent. And the two 
  Sabbat clans are the Tzimisce, like you, and the Lasombra, 
  like me. I’ll give you a more detailed introduction when we 
  get home.” 
  Jack nodded. 
  ••• 
  The pair of vampires reentered David’s apartment, and Jack 
  knew he smelt something. Something very sweet, but 
  somewhat bitter at the same time, as well. David led Jack to 
  the kitchen, where the stove had a pot, inscribed with various 
  strange symbols covering the outside, on it. It had recently 
  boiled. David took the pot and a glass. He then poured a 
  portion of the contents into the glass. 
  “Drink,” he said and handed Jack the glass. “This will 
  quench the hunger, for now.” 
  Jack nodded and took the offered drink. He took it all in, 
  very quickly. It was absolutely delicious. David kept refilling 
  the glass until there was no more of the contents in the pot, 
  and then placed both glass and pot in the sink, where he filled 
  them with water and dish soap. True to his word, Jack no 
  longer felt any discomfort at all after he finished drinking. 
  Rather, he even felt stronger, more clear–headed than he had 
  
   
  21 
  before. 
  “What is it?” he asked his adopted sire. 
  “A blood mixture, imbued with magic,” David stated as he 
  started washing the pot and the glass. “It was made from the 
  blood and hearts of the people who attacked you.” 
  Jack’s eyes widened, and he was about to go to the toilet 
  and make himself gag, but David grabbed his arm. 
  “Don’t,” he said. “You need blood to survive now, and 
  those bastards got what they deserved. Besides, it should 
  make you stronger, as well. Give you a little head start.” 
  Jack didn’t like the idea, but he slowly nodded his 
  acceptance. David let go of him. 
  “I’m going to teach you about being a vampire, as well as 
  about our history, customs, the whole thing. But first, I need 
  to teach you how to hunt.” 
  Jack didn’t like that one bit. 
  “But what i–” 
  “No ‘if’s,” David said. “If you can’t hunt and feed, you can’t 
  survive. Besides, do you really think we have to kill our prey?” 
  Jack shrugged his shoulders. 
  “Won’t they turn if we bite them?” 
  “That’s just a myth from TV. If that were the case, there 
  wouldn’t be any humans left.” 
  Jack quieted. David was an experienced vampire. Jack had 
  to take what he said to heart, because no one else would tell 
  him. In the silence, he noticed something he hadn’t before. 
  He couldn’t hear the thumping of his heart, or the rushing 
  
  22 
  of blood in his body. As it was, the silence was almost 
  deafening, but he could hear vague sounds from the outside. 
  Chatter and music and cars, only vague, but present. David’s 
  foot rocked, and the creak in the floorboards, as silent as it 
  would have been, was like it happened right next to his ear. 
  “You hear everything, don’t you?” David asked with a 
  smirk. “I’ve seen that look a lot of times.” 
  “Yeah,” Jack confirmed absentmindedly, his gaze 
  wandering the apartment. 
  When he focused, he realized that he could also see much 
  more clearly. Every contour seemed much sharper and crisper 
  than it would have, every little detail on David’s face was clear 
  and precise. He even saw the dust particles floating around 
  in the room they stood in, like a sheen of many, many grey 
  dots, a blanket covering everything, but still transparent. 
  “And now you see everything,” David continued, a smile 
  appearing on his lips. “Watching reactions like that never gets 
  old, just like us.” 
  Jack chuckled at the joke. 
  “So we’re immortal?” 
  “Undead. We are clinically dead, and we can be killed. But 
  age? Never. Disease? Usually not an issue. Drowning, 
  starvation, exposure? Not a chance. With the exceptions of 
  fire, sunlight, magic, and the natural weapons of unnatural 
  creatures, we are, in some way, immortal. You will look in a 
  thousand years as you look no– well… maybe a little paler.” 
  “Neat,” Jack muttered, still entranced and fascinated by his 
  new sensory inputs. 
  
   
  23 
  David simply watched his childe awed by the new sights and 
  sounds he was experiencing. Jack looked back at David. 
  “Is this what it’s all about?” he asked. 
  “This is just a fraction of it,” David reassured the neonate. 
  “As you weather the centuries, you’ll find that we have so 
  many powers at our disposal. The strength of ten men. The 
  speed of a cheetah. Becoming mist, or a bat. Seeing perfectly 
  in the dark, beguile mortals with a glance and command 
  them to do our bidding. The possibilities are almost endless.” 
  “I’m sold,” Jack breathed, his eyes flittering about the place. 
  “This is fucking awesome.” 
  “There are a few downsides to vampirism, however,” David 
  commented. “You can’t walk in the light of the sun, and fire 
  will consume you in seconds. Not to mention the Beast now 
  residing at the core of your soul.” 
  Jack’s eyes snapped to his mentor. 
  “Beast?” 
  “No one knows what it is,” David began. “I can tell you of 
  at least twenty interpretations I’ve heard over the centuries, 
  each more ridiculous than the next. But what is true, is that 
  it’s not some external entity entering and possessing you after 
  the Embrace.” 
  Jack wasn’t sure he liked where this was heading. 
  “It’s you. Or rather, a manifestation of your deepest, 
  darkest, most animalistic desires and urges and instincts. Its 
  greatest concern is keeping you alive, but don’t be fooled. It’s 
  a part of you, but it doesn’t care about the rest of you. It wants 
  you alive so that it can take over your body, take control.” 
  
  24 
  Jack was nailed to the spot, and despite the complete lack 
  of necessity for it, he swallowed in anxiety on instinct. David’s 
  expression had become dark. 
  “Every negative and destructive emotion you feel is a tiny 
  crack in its cage. Let your anger get the better of you, and the 
  Beast will follow. It will use any and all tricks it can to make 
  you let it out. When you’re hungry, it will push you to kill 
  unnecessarily, break down your humanity, and give it free 
  reigns.” 
  Jack was sure he would have felt the rock in his stomach, 
  the cold sweat breaking out, but he felt neither. The fright 
  didn’t feel exactly the same, but it was still familiar. 
  “You must train your mind, steel your humanity, if you 
  want to remain in control. You’ve felt but a mere fraction of 
  the Beast’s power already.” 
  Jack immediately knew what David talked about. That 
  anger he’d felt when he was buried, the fear, terror… and the 
  desire to fucking tear apart the cunt who’d done it to him. 
  Jack then felt his anger boil up once more, merely thinking 
  about that monstrous prick making his blood boil, 
  metaphorically. 
  “Calm down, Jack,” David said calmly, but his words held 
  a certain, soothing quality in them. Something Jack had never 
  experienced before. The anger vanished instantly, leaving 
  him calm and composed as ever. “That’s what I was talking 
  about. Feed until you’re satiated, and make sure to stay full 
  at most times. Let go of all you fear. Fear leads to anger. Anger 
  leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering.” 
  Jack was stunned into silence. He stared at David for 
  minutes, not saying anything. David seemed slightly 
  
   
  25 
  unnerved and confused. 
  “What?” 
  “Did you just quote Yoda from Star Wars three?” 
  David quieted for a few moments. 
  “Might have,” he replied with a shrug. “But that doesn’t 
  make it any less valid. Succumbing to the Beast is suffering. 
  You might not feel pain while it happens, but it hurts your 
  very soul. Weakens it. That’s when vampires become 
  monsters.” 
  Jack walked over to the couch and sat down on it with a 
  tired sigh. 
  “Damn it. Well, sensei, teach me.” 
  David walked over and sat in the armchair across from Jack. 
  “That concoction should sustain you for a few days, so let’s 
  go over some basics. Don’t sunbathe, don’t play with fire, and 
  make sure a wooden stake doesn’t come anywhere near your 
  heart. It won’t kill you, but it will paralyze you, and that’s how 
  hunters take you out to catch a sunrise. The Sheriff too, for 
  that matter.” 
  “Sheriff?” 
  “Right. The Camarilla has a strict hierarchy, and you are 
  practically at the bottom of it.” 
  “Gee, thanks.” 
  “I’m not kidding. At the top, there’s the Prince. He can do 
  practically whatever he wants, and he decides what is law and 
  what is rubbish, except for the Traditions. The Six Traditions 
  are the laws every Kindred in the Camarilla must follow, and 
  
  26 
  breaking one can very well lead to your execution by being 
  put to the sun.” 
  “’No rest for the wicked’, eh?” Jack mused humorlessly. 
  “True,” David chuckled. “They’re broken down like this; 
  the first is the Masquerade, and it is by far the most 
  important. It means that you’re not allowed to tell people 
  about vampires, you’re not allowed to show them, you can’t 
  reveal yourself to them in any way imaginable. Understood?” 
  “Perfectly.” 
  “The second is Domain. When you’re on another 
  vampire’s property, which means the whole city when 
  concerning a Prince, you are their guest, and you have to 
  show them respect. If you don’t, a Prince can kill you for a 
  rude remark. Granted, few would, since that would make 
  them look petty and vain, and especially Marcel is pretty lax 
  about this, but that doesn’t mean you should be an ass to 
  them. That just makes you look bad.” 
  “Right, don’t be a dick. Got it, great advice,” Jack muttered 
  sarcastically. 
  “Third is Progeny. You can’t make another vampire 
  without the Prince’s permission. If you do, you’ll both be 
  hunted down and slaughtered. Simple enough.” 
  “Simple?” Jack’s eyes widened slightly at David’s choice of 
  words. 
  “Fourth,” David continued without acknowledging his new 
  childe’s comment, “is Accounting. Every sire is responsible 
  for everything their childe says and does. Which means, if 
  you fuck up, I’m going through the mud for it. Just don’t fuck 
  up, it isn’t that hard.” 
  
   
  27 
  “Got it.” 
  “Fifth is Hospitality. Now, this might sound like it means 
  every vampire has a right to be in any city. It isn’t. It means 
  that a Prince can refuse or grant permission to stay in their 
  city, and every vampire coming to town has to report it to the 
  Prince. 
  And lastly comes Destruction. This is the most important 
  one to remember after the Masquerade. It means that you 
  cannot, under any circumstances besides being sanctioned by 
  the Prince, kill another Kindred. You’ll be executed for it.” 
  “I sense there’s a pattern with execution being a very 
  popular method of punishment for vampires,” Jack chortled. 
  “Just for breaking the Traditions,” David reassured his 
  childe. “The smaller, individual laws Princes invent usually 
  carry a rather meek punishment in comparison. After all, one 
  of the greatest appeals of vampirism is immortality. Who 
  would want to die when you’ve been promised that?” 
  “True.” 
  “Anyway, below the Prince is, usually, a Primogen council. 
  They’re the leaders of their clan in the city, and not all cities 
  have Primogen councils. They’re like the governors of the 
  states here in the United States. Below that, there’s the 
  Sheriff, who is the Prince’s ‘fixer’, if you will.” 
  “Fixer?” 
  “He’s the police captain, the executioner, the head of 
  internal security, whatever have you. Most take them as 
  bodyguards, but they’re so much more than that. They can 
  employ Hounds, their own minions.” 
  
  28 
  “And the Hounds are, what, Sheriffs to the Sheriff?” 
  “Essentially. Below that are the average citizens. And below 
  that, you.” 
  “That was unnecessary,” Jack looked accusingly at David, 
  but David shrugged. 
  “You are a childe. That means that, as far as the society is 
  concerned, you are basically my slave, my ward. No one likes 
  putting it in those terms, but that’s how it is. You’re obliged 
  to do exactly as I tell you, whenever I tell you to, until I decide 
  to release you. When I do that, you become a neonate. The 
  lowest of the average citizens, but a citizen nonetheless.” 
  “And how long until you release me?” 
  “When I deem you ready. Some have been childer for over 
  a century, and some have been as little as a night. That’s for 
  the sire to determine, but when you’re released, you’re on 
  your own. Period. The only things you’ll be forced to do are 
  those you sign up for, or those you’re blackmailed into. If you 
  don’t do anything that can be used against you, you might 
  never have to do as anyone says, ever again.” 
  “Right,” Jack sighed once more, though he felt strange 
  doing it. Like it was completely unnatural to do so. “So, what 
  about those clans you mentioned?” 
  “There are thirteen clans, each with their own specialties 
  and unique weaknesses. Seven belong to the Camarilla by 
  popular vote, two to the Sabbat, and four remain 
  independent. The Camarilla clans are the Brujah, the 
  Gangrel, the Malkavians, the Nosferatu, the Toreador, the 
  Tremere, and the Ventrue. Lasombra and Tzimisce belong to 
  the Sabbat, and Assamite, Giovanni, Ravnos, and Setites are 
  
   
  29 
  independent clans.” 
  “So, three factions?” 
  “Kind of. The Camarilla is a monarchical dictatorship, but 
  it works. The Sabbat is a huge band of monstrous dicks. And 
  the independents are just that: independent. They don’t 
  really have alliances to the Sabbat or Camarilla, or each other 
  for that matter, but they just might help you, if you make it 
  worth their while.” 
  “Right. So if there are these ranks in the Camarilla, where 
  are you?” 
  “I’m the Scourge of New Orleans,” David explained 
  further. “I’m the Prince’s personal hitman for when he wants 
  to be more discreet, but since there isn’t a Sheriff in New 
  Orleans, I fill out that role as well, for the most part.” 
  “A hitman?” 
  “Yeah.” 
  “As in gun–for–hire, paid killer?” 
  “Yes.” 
  … 
  “Dude, you’re fucked up.” 
  “I know,” David sighed and rubbed his eyes. 
  
  30 
   
   
   
  Chapter 3 
  Before You Walk 
   
   
   
   
   
  New Orleans, Louisiana 
  May 25th, 2009 
  Jack was sitting in a club called ‘The Crimson Kiss’ next to 
  David, both wearing expensive, tailored suits in all–black, 
  and Jack was beginning to wonder how David made so much 
  money. The music was loud and blaring, but while Jack had 
  once felt the thunderous bass in his whole being, he now felt 
  like it was… weaker. He felt it somewhat on his skin, but it 
  didn’t flood through him like it used to. Like he was hollow, 
  somehow, when he had once been full. Jack looked around, 
  sniffing the air. He’d been able to smell something on the 
  way over here, but once they entered the club, the scent 
  became so much stronger. And if he were to put it in relatable 
  terms, it was like he could smell the Thanksgiving dinner 
  being put on the table when he was younger. It smelt so 
  delicious, but the smell was practically everywhere, and he 
  somehow doubted everyone was cooking Thanksgiving 
  dinners in May. 
  He noticed David’s amused expression. 
  “What?” 
  “You’ve been thinking about that smell, right?” 
  
   
  31 
  “How’d you know?” Jack asked. 
  “What you’ve been able to smell, Jack, are humans.” 
  Jack was quiet for some time, as his eyes glanced over the 
  humans dancing around them to the punk–rock music 
  playing loudly throughout the club. 
  “They smell like food because that’s what they are to us. 
  Am I right?” 
  “Exactly,” David nodded. “In vampire society, humans are 
  quite literally considered beneath notice. I suppose you could 
  equate it to giving a domestic salmon in an aquarium human 
  rights.” 
  “Who has salmon in an aquarium?” Jack questioned, 
  astonished. 
  “Well, would you skin, grill and eat your dog?” David 
  countered. 
  Jack stared blankly at David for a good few seconds. 
  “No. No, I wouldn’t.” 
  “Right. The very lowest you could go in Kindred society is 
  a ghoul, seeing as they’re servants who are fed vitae. Vampire 
  blood,” David elaborated at Jack’s confusion. “They get 
  stronger, and gain some of our weaker powers. But most 
  notably, they don’t age as long as there’s vitae in their bodies.” 
  “Right. So, what’re we doing here, anyway?” 
  “I’m going to teach you how to hunt.” 
  “Vampires hunt in clubs?” 
  “And parks, casinos, hotels, back alleys and brothels. 
  Remember, humanity is our prey, so anywhere there are 
  
  32 
  humans can be considered hunting grounds.” 
  “I understand.” 
  “Then there’s the issue with Domain again, though. A 
  vampire who holds domain can decide if others are allowed 
  to hunt in their domain, though you shouldn’t be concerned 
  with that here in New Orleans, much less the French 
  Quarter.” 
  “Why not?” 
  “New Orleans is open to anyone who follows the 
  Traditions and Marcel’s laws.” 
  “Marcel’s the prince, right?” 
  “Exactly. And the French Quarter is my domain, so you can 
  feed anywhere you want there, so long as you don’t break the 
  Masquerade, and you don’t litter the streets with corpses. I’ll 
  help you clean up if you lose control or mess up once in a 
  while, but keep casualties to an absolute minimum. Humans 
  get drunk and get themselves killed practically every week, but 
  several bloodless bodies are going to raise suspicion.” 
  Jack just nodded silently. He hadn’t even considered that 
  he might mess up and kill someone he would feed from. The 
  thought that it was a real possibility sickened him in his gut. 
  He didn’t feel the same gag–reflex he normally would have, 
  though. That, coupled with how he could smell food all 
  around him, and how he couldn’t feel the music around him 
  like he used to really hammered in the fact that he wasn’t 
  human anymore. 
  “There,” Jack snapped out of his thoughts as he heard 
  David’s voice and felt the older vampire nudge him. “Single, 
  shy, probably a little tipsy.” 
  
   
  33 
  Jack looked in the direction David pointed, and saw a 
  young woman, probably around twenty or so, sitting by 
  herself and nursing a mojito. She kept looking around with a 
  somewhat lost expression on her face. 
  “What do I do?” 
  “You waltz up to her, ask her to dance, and if things go 
  smoothly, you’ll be going to the bathrooms with her in less 
  than half an hour.” 
  “You want me to nail her?” Jack asked. 
  “You can if you really want, but I just want you to act like 
  you’re going to. Then, when you’re about to do the deed, you 
  just push out your fangs and bite her in the throat. Don’t 
  worry. It’ll come to you naturally, like you’ve done it a 
  thousand times already. It’s pure instinct.” 
  “How do I know when to stop, though?” 
  “When you drink, you’ll be able to feel her pulse like a 
  drum in your body. Like the bass in a club like you used to. 
  It’ll pound throughout your whole body, and you’ll know 
  when it slows down. When it slows to the point where it’s 
  just steady enough to be normal, you let go and lick the 
  wounds. That will seal them up, like it never happened.” 
  “But it’ll be normal the whole time,” Jack countered 
  anxiously. 
  “No, it won’t,” David placed a reassuring hand on Jack’s 
  shoulder. “She will be hot, light–headed, and almost 
  definitely horny, I think you call it.” 
  “That’s what we call it,” Jack nodded. 
  “Right. Her heart’ll be beating like she’s skydiving. Like 
  
  34 
  she’s riding a bicycle down a steep mountain. You’ll know 
  what I’m talking about when you bite. And don’t worry about 
  closing her mouth, she will be moaning. The bite is bliss. 
  Don’t worry about other people either, sex is a very common 
  occurrence in this club.” 
  Jack took a few breaths to calm himself, which really didn’t 
  work, but he still stood up and made his way towards the girl 
  David had pointed out. On the way, Jack put up his most 
  charming smile, and turned his personal magnetism up to 
  eleven. He walked around her table, and she looked up at 
  him. She was rather pretty in Jack’s opinion. Long, brown 
  hair in curls, brown eyes and regal cheekbones. Freckles 
  faintly covering her somewhat pale cheeks and nose, and 
  lovely lips, looking as delicious as he had ever seen on a 
  woman. She blushed when he sat down next to her on her 
  right. 
  “Good evening,” Jack said seductively. 
  “H–hi,” the girl nervously stammered back and looked 
  down on at her hands. 
  “Will you tell me your name, or should I leave here crying 
  because the prettiest girl in the club wouldn’t talk to me?” he 
  asked endearingly. 
  Her blush deepened, and she glanced at him with a small 
  smile. 
  “Rachel.” 
  “Rachel,” Jack repeated slowly. “What a beautiful name. 
  I’m Jack,” he said and extended his hand for her to shake. 
  “Pretty crude compared to ‘Rachel’.” 
  Rachel hesitantly took his offered hand. Jack relished in the 
  
   
  35 
  softness of it, like a silken pillow. 
  “So, are you here by yourself, or do you have a friend here?” 
  “I came here with my roommate, but she ditched me for a 
  jock,” Rachel admitted. 
  “She a party girl?” 
  “Yeah. We attend UNO, but she’d rather party than study,” 
  Rachel frowned lightly. 
  “Not that I can exactly say that partying sucks, but studying 
  is definitely more important,” Jack said with an honest smile. 
  “You’re still in school?” 
  “No, I graduated three years ago,” Jack lied through his 
  teeth, something he was pretty good at. “I’ve gone into the 
  private sector. Architecture.” 
  Rachel sat up straight and her face brightened a little more. 
  “Really?” 
  “Yeah, but there aren’t a lot of jobs around anymore,” Jack 
  nodded with defeat in his face. “I drew the schematics for a 
  new apartment building being built in Sydney as part of an 
  ecofriendly project, that’s how far I have to go to get jobs.” 
  “Wow!” Rachel’s eyes lit up. “That’s so cool!” 
  “I thought so too in the beginning, but it gets dull really 
  quickly. I tried going into graphical design after that, but that 
  got boring too. Believe it or not, having a creative job isn’t as 
  exciting as it may seem.” 
  “But you got to actually go to Sydney, right!?” 
  “Yeah, and it was pretty alright. But it was hot as hell, and 
  
  36 
  there were bugs and creepy–crawlies everywhere.” 
  “Really?” 
  “Tarantulas are pretty common, and they suck to find in 
  the corner of your bedroom,” Jack chuckled, and Rachel 
  started giggling as well. 
  Jack kept making small talk with the girl, and he found out 
  that she wanted to work with biochemistry. She really wanted 
  to travel the world as well, and with every new bit of 
  information he learned about her, the worse he felt. He came 
  over there to try and get her to go to the bathroom with him, 
  make her think he wanted to screw her. And had intended 
  on biting her in the throat so that he could drink her blood. 
  The thought made him feel like his chest was being crushed 
  by a vice, and he felt sick to his core. He started to become 
  anxious again, and glanced over at David. David sat 
  shockingly still, like he were a statue. His eyes were glued to 
  Jack’s, but they showed nothing. Like he was just a wax doll 
  in a museum staring blankly at him. Jack knew he had to do 
  this, or he might never make himself do it again. And David 
  had said that his life would become hell if he couldn’t feed. 
  Jack picked up his courage, and lightly placed his left hand 
  on Rachel’s thigh. She looked up at him with a deep, heavy 
  blush. And Jack knew that he had crossed the threshold. 
  There was no way back, now. Rachel’s eyes slowly fluttered 
  closed, and she slowly leant in. He leant in himself as well, 
  closing his eyes as he went, though compared to her, his 
  movements were precise, like a machine. He pressed his lips 
  to hers, and she jerked just slightly, but brushed whatever it 
  was off. Jack was grateful that he had brushed his teeth before 
  they came here, else she would have tasted that heart–blood 
  drink. 
  
   
  37 
  They moved slowly at first, with Jack taking the lead. Their 
  lips molded together, and Jack felt nothing but emptiness. He 
  had once felt so good, so ecstatic when he made out with a 
  girl. But now he felt nothing. Her lips tasted so nice, and her 
  lips were incredibly soft, but it was like the emotions 
  associated with the action were gone, making the kiss hollow 
  to him. He gently grabbed the back of her head with his left 
  hand, and started caressing her thigh with his right. 
  The more she leant into it and eased up, the more Jack 
  wanted to get the hell out of there, but he had committed to 
  this, and it was his life now. He had to do it, or he wouldn’t 
  survive. Jack pulled away and begrudgingly forced a seductive 
  smile to his lips as he gently took Rachel by the hand. Her 
  face was completely red as he gently led her towards the 
  bathrooms. He opened one of the doors and pulled her 
  inside before locking it behind him. He then pulled her into 
  himself and started heating up the kissing, but his chest hurt 
  more and more the farther they went. Rachel momentarily 
  broke the contact and pulled her shirt over her head, leaving 
  her torso bare except for her bra. Rachel was quite well–
  endowed, but was by no means record–setting. She crashed 
  her lips back onto his own, and she started unbuttoning his 
  shirt. 
  It’s time. It’s now or never. 
  Jack carefully moved his lips from hers, and planted kisses 
  along her cheek, and then down her neck. She moaned and 
  draped her arms around his neck, and Jack only briefly felt 
  like it was a gallows’ noose, promising to hang him once his 
  fangs broke her skin. He pulled her tightly against himself, 
  and just like David had said, he felt his fangs unsheathe. He 
  then slowly brought them to her throat, and pressed them 
  
  38 
  down, before they swiftly retracted once more. The blood 
  slowly pumped into Jack’s mouth, and he felt an 
  overwhelming euphoria like no heroin he had ever tried. It 
  tasted divinely sweet, and he pulled her against him more 
  tightly on instinct. Rachel moaned and caressed his hair. As 
  soon as the blood trickled down his throat, Jack forgot all 
  about the vice–like sensation he had felt earlier, and all 
  anxiety evaporated instantly. He no longer had a care in the 
  world, only to drink more of this heavenly liquid. 
  But Jack felt it. He felt the pulsating sensation throughout 
  his body, beating like a drum, like his own heart once had. It 
  was as obvious as the sun in the noon sky, and it was 
  soothing, lulling him into a daze, despite how rapidly it beat. 
  Jack drifted off, his spirit dislodged from his body and 
  floating back into the club where the sounds and smells and 
  tastes and the bass all invaded his body, filling him with 
  ecstasy. He was dimly aware that he and Rachel had changed 
  their position, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to care… 
  until the pulse of life invading his undead body slowed down, 
  and then stopped. Jack was slowly being pulled back to his 
  body, but he didn’t want to go back to it! He wanted to stay 
  like this, forever! Purged of all emotion, all flesh and material, 
  and simply float in the void of music and blood and life 
  forever. 
  Jack slowly opened his eyes, and looked around. He was 
  lying on the heated floor of the club’s bathroom, his head 
  spinning and his mind unwilling to focus. He felt something 
  next to him, and turned to look at… Rachel’s eyes staring 
  blankly into his own. They were glossy, and seemed empty, 
  somehow. Like there was no… 
  Jack felt his stomach drop, then lurch. He tumbled up into 
  
   
  39 
  a sitting position and started shaking the girl. 
  “Rachel,” he slurred out hazily. “Rachel.” 
  He felt the spinning slowing and quieten, and felt his mind 
  become clear, only to feel like he was being dipped in 
  Antarctic water. 
  “Rachel. Rachel! RACHEL!” 
  His shaking intensified, making the girl’s head roll around, 
  but he didn’t get a reaction out of her. She merely stared 
  blankly out into nothingness, her mouth hanging slack. And 
  where she had just earlier felt almost burning hot to the 
  touch, she now felt… like his body temperature. Jack’s 
  breathing increased and deepened, becoming heaving, but he 
  felt nothing arise out of it. There was just Rachel on the floor, 
  and himself with a little blood on his lips. All of a sudden, 
  however, that turned. He practically heard something snap, 
  and he just felt like his head became enveloped in a cool 
  blanket. And despite his horror at what he had just done, he 
  looked down, and his hand was completely steady. So steady, 
  that it looked like a hand carved out of white marble. And 
  despite knowing all too well how fear and sadness could be 
  mind–numbing, having just been riling up to a panic attack, 
  his mind was as clear as a quiet lake on a windless day. He 
  still felt as though he was swimming in the arctic 
  hemispheres, but he was calm like a buddha in meditation. 
  He sat back and looked down at his hands, and felt a… 
  disconnect. A thought occurred to him, one he would never 
  have thought he would have. 
  She’s dead. I need David to help get rid of the body. 
  It was as serene a thought as any he had ever had. And he 
  
  40 
  pulled his phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket, dialed 
  a number, and put the phone to his ear. 
  “What happened?” 
  “I killed her,” Jack said calmly. “I didn’t mean to. Can you 
  help me get rid of the body?” 
  He heard the beeping tone letting him know that David 
  had hung up on him. He pocketed the phone, and not a 
  second later, someone knocked on the door. 
  “It’s me,” he heard David’s voice. 
  Jack unlocked and opened the door, as David swiftly 
  squeezed inside and locked it again. He looked down at the 
  cooling corpse, and back at Jack. 
  “Why didn’t you stop?” 
  “I… couldn’t,” Jack muttered quietly in a monotone voice. 
  “I couldn’t… move.” 
  David’s expression became one of concern. 
  “You alright?” 
  “I think so,” Jack said with a small frown. “I don’t feel… 
  anything. I’m just… calm.” 
  David frowned lightly. 
  “I was getting sad, angry, I just wanted to shake her awake 
  and then suddenly… calm. Is that… normal, when you kill?” 
  “Usually not. At least, not the first time. Some grow 
  desensitized, but what you describe is… extraordinary.” 
  David looked at the dead body, then at Jack, whose face was 
  calmly set in stone. He seemed genuinely fascinated in what 
  
   
  41 
  Jack was going through, but he unlocked the door and took 
  a peek, less than a second, before he closed the door again. 
  “Pick her up,” David said. “She’s your burden to carry. 
  We’re going to walk straight out. Don’t say anything, don’t 
  make any sounds, no nothing. I’m going to obfuscate us.” 
  “Obfuscate?” 
  “Vampire mind–trick, no one will see us. Just pick her up 
  and follow me.” 
  Jack crouched down and picked up the surprisingly light 
  girl. He then followed as David led them through the crowd. 
  Much to Jack’s surprise, everyone seemed to move out of 
  their way without seeing them. Jack felt as though he was 
  walking down the hallway to the hangman’s noose, only he 
  wasn’t going to hang himself; he was going to hang Rachel, 
  the innocent girl he held in his arms, her corpse very rapidly 
  cooling down. And while he knew he would have been sad... 
  he couldn’t feel it. As if that snap he had heard earlier was 
  his sanity had broken. That he had, in that very moment, 
  gone insane. David led Jack outside through a back entrance 
  to the club. They found themselves in an alley, with no one 
  around. David stood still for a moment with his eyes closed, 
  as if concentrating. 
  “No one’s going to disturb us,” he said as he opened his 
  eyes. “Put her body down over there,” he pointed to the 
  middle of the alley. 
  Jack did as he was told, and gingerly laid the newly–dead 
  corpse down. David came over to him and held out a bottle 
  of ethanol. Jack realized what his mentor wanted him to do, 
  and accepted the bottle. He opened it and poured its contents 
  out over the body, until there was nothing left. David then 
  
  42 
  pulled him a good distance away from the corpse and handed 
  him a zippo lighter. 
  “Fire’s one of the things that can really kill us,” David 
  calmly explained. “Don’t get too close to it.” 
  Jack nodded and flicked the lighter open. He snapped the 
  wheel, and the flame arose. Jack felt only a slight tug inside 
  him, something whisper in his mind that he should get away 
  from it, but it seemed so far off. He then threw the lighter at 
  the ethanol–doused corpse, which lit up instantly. The acrid 
  stench of burning flesh soon reached his nose, but he didn’t 
  feel the need to hide it with his sleeve. He just ignored it and 
  watched the flames lick away at the body. The tug inside him 
  grew stronger, but he still didn’t feel compelled to do 
  anything, really. He looked at his mentor, who studied him 
  with fascination. 
  “It would seem that you fell apathetic when the trauma of 
  what you’d done settled in. I can only presume that it’s a self–
  preservation mechanism for your subconscious. It also seems 
  that you’re unnaturally resistant to the red fear in this state.” 
  “What?” 
  “Oh, nothing,” David shrugged. “Just thinking out loud.” 
  Jack nodded, and looked back at Rachel being burnt to a 
  crisp. 
  “Can’t we just leave?” 
  “No. We have to make sure there isn’t a body left to find. 
  We don’t leave until she’s ash. It’ll take a few tries, so I’ll go 
  get some more bottles.” 
  “Right.” 
  
   
  43 
  ••• 
  It took three further bottles to make sure that there was 
  absolutely nothing of Rachel left, but a pile of ash. 
  “For the record,” David mused somewhat morbidly, “this 
  is what myself and other elders are going to look like when 
  we die.” 
  “Don’t you mean ‘if’?” 
  “There’s no such thing as absolute immortality, remember 
  that. One day, every single one of us will die. It could be the 
  sun, fire, a well–placed axe, an experienced vampire hunter, 
  a werewolf, sorcerer, demon or another Kindred. But 
  everyone, and everything, will inevitably, without exception, 
  die. It might take a second, a century, a millennium, or a 
  billion years, but it will happen. That goes for you, your 
  friends, me, our elders, and even the mightiest of 
  supernatural creatures.” 
  Jack nodded. David turned around to walk away, and his 
  new protégé followed behind. They slowly walked through 
  the streets of the Garden District, neither saying anything. As 
  they reached the border to the French Quarter, however, Jack 
  felt something. A deep pain in his gut, spreading to his chest. 
  Not physical, but emotional. David turned his head and 
  looked on as Jack’s face contorted in sadness, and red tears 
  of blood welled up in his eyes, rolled down his cold cheeks, 
  and he fell to his knees. 
  “I killed her,” he whispered. “I couldn’t stop it.” 
  He started heaving for breath, but it didn’t do anything for 
  him. He started sobbing, and more tears poured down his 
  pale face. He grabbed the front of his jacket and clenched 
  
  44 
  tight. If he had normal skin coloration, his knuckles would 
  have gone white. 
  “I killed her because I couldn’t stop myself,” he whined out 
  between sobs. 
  He fell forward and placed his head on his forearms coming 
  to rest on the pavement as he started screaming in emotional 
  torment. David merely stood and watched the childe come to 
  terms with what had happened. The apathy had clearly worn 
  off, and the boy was now feeling the full force of what he had 
  done. He laid on the pavement, sobbing unnecessarily and 
  crying precious blood, the blood he had just taken from a girl. 
  He wept her blood, the thing he had taken from her, the 
  thing which had killed her. 
  ••• 
   
  New Orleans, Louisiana 
  May 26th, 2009 
  Jack woke up the next day, feeling slightly hungry. He now 
  knew better than to try and satiate it with food. He felt thirsty, 
  but he knew better than to try and slake it with water. He 
  knew that the hunger and the thirst, once separate needs, 
  were now one and the same, and that whenever he tried to 
  satisfy it, he might end up killing someone. He laid on the 
  couch, not wanting to get up and move. He just wanted to go 
  to sleep again, and to never wake up. But he didn’t want to 
  die. Not now that he had survived death itself. If you could 
  even call it survival. He couldn’t hear David anywhere in the 
  apartment as he used his recently discovered strengthened 
  hearing to try and locate the vampire. His mentor. Jack was 
  still having trouble with getting used to the idea that vampires 
  were real. After all, if vampires were real... what else might 
  
   
  45 
  be? 
  He did hear footsteps outside the apartment, and the door 
  soon opened. 
  “I’ve made sure that your apartment is being cleared out, 
  and your things brought to the apartment right above mine,” 
  he heard David say. “I own this apartment building, and all 
  the apartments on this floor and above are sunproofed for 
  Kindred. The apartment above mine is yours as long as you 
  stay in New Orleans.” 
  “Right,” Jack muttered. “Thanks.” 
  “You’re my childe. Don’t mention it.” 
  “Do you often take in sireless vampires?” Jack wondered 
  aloud. 
  “No, but then again, I’m not usually hunting Kindred who 
  just recently sired. It does happen occasionally, though.” 
  “Alright.” 
  Silence permeated the room for a few minutes as David 
  messed around with a few things. He then came up to the 
  couch, allowing Jack to see that he was carrying a bag. 
  “Let’s go,” he said and threw his head towards the door. 
  “We’re going somewhere.” 
  Jack sighed and got up. 
  ••• 
  The pair of vampires walked through the streets of the 
  French Quarter until they reached the other end, where 
  David headed towards a large warehouse. He took Jack’s 
  hand, but Jack knew better than pulling away. David likely 
  
  46 
  wouldn’t do it unless something required it. As they reached 
  the steps leading up to the door, Jack felt a warmth rush over 
  him, and he knew something was going on. David then let go 
  and opened the front door. He ushered the childe inside, 
  who did as wordlessly ordered without question. As he 
  stepped inside, he looked to his left and saw a door with a 
  plaque on it. 
  David Kane 
  Red Alastor 
  He then looked to his right, and paused at what he saw: a 
  grey–skinned... something. It stood upright, like a man, but it 
  had a deformed face with a twisted mouth, an eye which 
  looked like a tumor was growing behind it, flaking skin and 
  completely bald. It seemed to be smiling, but Jack wasn’t 
  entirely certain. 
  “Hey,” he said casually, having seen enough horror films to 
  not be fazed by it. 
  The thing seemed a little saddened as it’s shoulders 
  slumped and it slowly dragged its feet across the floor, back 
  into a room filled with servers and a few computers. It closed 
  the door behind itself. 
  “Damn,” David muttered behind him. “Seems it’s getting 
  old. Oh well.” 
  “What was that?” Jack asked as he looked at David. 
  “Who,” David corrected him, “and it was SayMX, our 
  technology and IT genius.” 
  “That was a dude?” 
  “He’s a Nosferatu. They don’t look... normal.” 
  
   
  47 
  “I can see that,” Jack muttered as he looked at the plaque 
  adorning that door. 
  Symond Maximillian 
  Auditor 
  “What are Red Alastors and Auditors?” 
  David walked towards a large, near–empty space where a 
  woman was hard at work in a sports bra and running shorts. 
  Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail, and to Jack, she 
  momentarily became the whole world. He was punching and 
  kicking a large tube of concrete standing upright, and while 
  her punches landed solidly, nothing happened to the 
  concrete. He did notice etchings of strange marks all over it, 
  though. However, he couldn’t take his eyes off her lithe, yet 
  muscled body. Her bare stomach was lean and toned, with 
  just a trace of a six–pack, and her arms and legs were muscled 
  without it being unsightly. Not a drop of sweat rolled off her 
  pale body, and after a final kick with her bare foot, which 
  honestly sounded like it could splatter his brain all over the 
  walls, she turned and looked at the pair, and Jack swallowed 
  when he saw her smooth and divinely gorgeous face. Her eyes 
  lit up when she looked at them, though he quickly noticed 
  that her eyes were trained at David. 
  “You should start taking your job more seriously,” she said 
  with a small smile, which made Jack feel as if a rock was 
  dumped in his stomach. She didn’t even acknowledge his 
  presence. “You barely come in once a week these nights, 
  David.” 
  “I know,” David returned. “I’m raising a new childe. Jack, 
  meet Catherine,” David gestured at the ungodly beautiful 
  woman. “Catherine, this is Jack. He was shoveled a few nights 
  
  48 
  ago by a Fiend.” 
  “Antitribu like you, then?” she asked and sized Jack up and 
  down, and her intense scrutiny made Jack feel embarrassed 
  to be in her presence. “Don’t seem like much.” 
  Jack’s heart sank. He had never seen a woman as beautiful 
  as the vampire standing in front of him. Nor had a woman 
  ever made him feel the way she did. 
  “He might yet surprise,” David said. “Besides, he’s not a 
  recruit. I’m just showing him how things work. A year or 
  three, and he’ll be on his way to make his own unlife.” 
  The woman, Catherine, hummed lightly and then turned 
  back to the concrete tube and resumed her routine. 
  “I thought vampires’d be able to easily break that thing,” he 
  said without thinking, and his felt as if icy daggers were driven 
  into his chest and gut when Catherine shot him a glare. She 
  then looked at David, who nodded. 
  He walked over to a case where he opened it and reached 
  his hand in, and when he stood back up, he threw something 
  at Catherine. She easily caught the object with her left hand 
  as she lifted the wide and thick concrete disc that lay a little 
  distance away with one hand, making Jack’s eyes widen in 
  surprise. She then revealed the object in her hand as she 
  pilled a ring away from it with her thumb; a hand grenade. 
  “Nade,” she lightly called out with a bored tone and 
  dumped the grenade into the tube, before placing the lid on 
  top. 
  She covered her ear right next to the concrete with her now 
  free hand, and David turned away and covered an ear as well. 
  Suddenly, an explosion, louder than anything Jack had ever 
  
   
  49 
  heard, resounded from within the concrete, shaking the 
  floor, and making the fledgling vampire’s ears ring as he 
  stumbled to the ground, the ringing noise overwhelming. His 
  head hurt from the loud ringing, and everything around him 
  sounded muffled, as if he was underwater. David stood 
  talking at him, but he couldn’t hear anything at all. 
  “Whaaaa?” he asked, trying to regain his bearing as he 
  couldn’t stop swaying. 
  He did notice that the concrete tube was completely intact, 
  and the strange etchings all over it glowed very faintly red, 
  before the glow subsided completely. He only became more 
  and more dizzy, however, and soon, he started feeling tired 
  again. He also noticed that David and Catherine were 
  walking away, but he couldn’t hear anything they said, and 
  soon, the darkness enveloped him completely. 
  
  50 
   
   
   
  Chapter 4 
  Point Of No Return 
   
   
   
   
   
  Garden District, New Orleans 
  May 27th, 2009 
  Jack calmly walked down the streets of the district of the 
  city he was born and raised in, with a very specific destination 
  in mind. He took the time he had on the walk to think about 
  everything that had happened in only the past few da– nights, 
  alone. He no longer felt refreshed by the air around him, he 
  didn’t feel uncomfortable in the heat, he didn’t... there were 
  so many things that had changed, and yet, it could all be 
  summarized in one word; vampire. 
  Jack looked around. The night seemed so much brighter, 
  though, and so much more vibrant. So full of life. He could 
  see everything. He heard everything. And he smelt everything. It 
  was all so overwhelming, but at the same time, it seemed so 
  right, so... proper for him to sense everything. A small, 
  saddened smile appeared on his lips as he stopped in front of 
  a familiar house. He looked up at the windows and saw Jolene 
  serving Harry, Eric, and Jack lasagna, and he felt a pang of 
  guilt in his chest. He had taught her how to make that 
  lasagna. After his mom died, it had been up to Jack to learn 
  to cook, and his best dish; lasagna. 
  
   
  51 
  He saw Harry smile and kiss his wife on the cheek, making 
  her smile as well. Jack outside looked down at his watch and 
  checked the date. 
  It was the twins’ birthday, and Jack’s lasagna was their 
  favorite. 
  Jack smiled soberly, until his eyes widened as he saw Harry 
  place a picture frame with a photograph of Jack in it on the 
  table. The mood inside seemed to fade a little, and they all 
  closed their eyes and said a prayer or something. But Jack had 
  eaten with them many time; they didn’t say grace before they 
  began, being very casual Christians. Jack looked around for 
  the newspaper stand he knew to be close, and when he 
  spotted it, he quickly ran up to it and smashed the glass with 
  his bare fist. He then pulled a paper out and looked at the 
  front page, his anger rising up inside him, the Beast or 
  whatever thrashing to get out. 
  On the cover was a picture of Jack hanging with his chest 
  impaled on a pike sticking out of the ground, and a sign with 
  the words ‘Negro Lover’ written on it below a swastika. Jack 
  became furious. The past few nights after becoming a 
  vampire, he fell asleep an hour or two before sunrise, giving 
  David plenty of time to fake his death. Jack curled the 
  newspaper into a tight ball and threw it away with a growl. 
  He then looked back inside the house, and the family had 
  begun eating. Now... he could never see them ever again. Not 
  without a lot of trouble. His hands shook in anger at what 
  David had done. He could never enter that house again. Not 
  in good conscience, and not without repercussions. 
  His lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing his fangs, and he 
  turned back and headed down a few streets, seething. 
  
  52 
  ••• 
  Jack barged into his apartment, only to find a young couple 
  rocking his bed. They shouted and screamed in shock when 
  the door slammed open, and Jack was stunned when he saw 
  who it was. 
  “Sarah?” he asked. 
  In the bed was Sarah, the closest thing Jack would consider 
  to having a steady girlfriend to him. Her darker Latino skin 
  was covered in sweat, her black hair tousled, her brown eyes 
  wild and dazed, and her delicate hands holding Jack’s duvet 
  close to her chest, hiding her modesty. Jack looked at the guy 
  who was with her, who was just as shocked as Sarah. It was 
  Michael. His best and oldest friend, and the same age as 
  himself. Sarah, coincidentally, was quite a few years younger, 
  being around twenty–five or twenty–six. 
  “Jack!” Sarah exclaimed. “I thought... I thought you were 
  dead!” 
  Jack’s surprise over seeing his best friend shagging his 
  ‘girlfriend’ quickly faded, and the anger David had placed in 
  him flared to dangerous heights. 
  “And so naturally you start fucking my best friend not two 
  days later,” Jack said icily, and leant against the side of the 
  door. 
  “Jackie, bro,” Michael said, and it was easy for Jack to see 
  that his friend was so stoned, he wouldn’t be able to tell a 
  snake from a garden hose. “’I’so good ta see ya ‘live, man.” 
  Jack felt the same stoic, cold, emotion–suppressing 
  sensation glide over him again, and soon, he felt nothing but 
  dark, cold, icy contempt. 
  
   
  53 
  “You won’t be saying that in a few minutes.” 
  ••• 
  David walked down a road in the Garden District. He had 
  been wanting to talk with his new childe, but the young 
  Tzimisce had merely brushed past him and left. David was 
  never a tyrant with apprentices, so he let the boy go. Better 
  he be calm and learn than upset and waste time. But the 
  childe hadn’t returned for a while, so David had followed 
  Jack’s scent by way of his incredible sense of smell. It led him 
  straight to the Garden District, and now, he was walking 
  briskly down the road towards the apartment building Jack 
  had lived in. But something he sniffed on the air made him 
  stop. He could smell it, and he would never confuse that 
  scent. 
  Blood. Human blood. And a lot of it. 
  He started jogging down the road and made his way into 
  the unlocked building. He took the stairs five steps at a time 
  with ease, and when he finally reached the apartment, the 
  door was slightly ajar, and David slowly pushed it open as he 
  walked in. He didn’t even flinch. 
  There was blood everywhere, covering the bed, the floor, 
  the walls and even the ceiling. Jack stone–faced sat on his bed 
  beside a heavily mutilated corpse of a woman, and bits and 
  pieces of someone else, likely a man, was strewn and 
  splattered all over the room. One thing David noticed was 
  that Jack’s blood–soaked hands weren’t hands, but vicious–
  looking claws on long, thin fingers, and his eyes were glowing 
  a bright, dangerous red. Blood was splattered up across his 
  face, and one hand was gently, absent–mindedly caressing the 
  ankle of the eviscerated, defaced and shredded woman lying 
  
  54 
  on the bed beside him. 
  “I don’t know what happened,” Jack said, his voice as cold 
  as the grave and as emotionless as granite. “I couldn’t stop 
  myself. I just did it.” 
  “Were you angry?” David asked as he assessed the situation 
  and apartment, taking a glance inside the kitchen and the 
  bathroom. 
  “Furious,” Jack said. 
  “The Beast got out,” David said nonchalantly. “This is what 
  happens when you frenzy. It tries to kill anything and 
  everything that’s close enough, and it doesn’t know friend 
  from foe.” 
  “She slept with my best friend,” Jack said calmly, and 
  looked up at David, his eyes as cold as his voice. 
  “I see,” David said. “Well, come on. We’ll go to the roof. 
  Aiden’ll bring new clothes, and I’ll make sure someone cleans 
  up your apartment.” 
  Jack wordlessly followed David out of the apartment and 
  up some more flights of stairs, until David easily pushed open 
  a locked and chained door leading outside. They stood out 
  on the roof, which had a surprisingly good view of the city 
  towards the French Quarter. David breathed a relieved sigh, 
  making Jack look at him. 
  “Why do you sigh?” he asked monotonously. “Or breathe, 
  for that matter?” 
  “It’s a habit,” David said. “Keeps hunters off your trail if 
  you seem completely human. Breathing, sighing, blinking. 
  Snorting, shifting your weight, wriggling your fingers, 
  
   
  55 
  running your hand through your hair... there are so many 
  small things that put us apart from humans, many small 
  things we forget to do that are characteristic of mortals, and 
  good hunters know them. Better Kindred replicate them. 
  You should start trying.” 
  Jack looked at David for a few seconds, then looked back 
  out over the city. Soon, a little mechanically and a little 
  quickly, his shoulders and chest started heaving, though he 
  didn’t draw breath. 
  “Just breathe, Jack,” David said. “It doesn’t hurt, and that 
  attempt was horrific to look at.” 
  A few moments later, the two Kindred breathed in 
  synchronized rhythms, the younger following the elder’s lead. 
  “That’s good,” David said. “Not too fast, not too slow. This 
  should be your resting breathing. Pick it up a little when you 
  start running, and then keep it up for three to five minutes 
  after you stop, depending on how far you ran. Do this, you’ll 
  be fine.” 
  Jack nodded lightly. The two simply stared towards south–
  east, towards the French Quarter. 
  “Why New Orleans?” Jack asked. 
  David was quiet for a while, and Jack didn’t know whether 
  or not his mentor would answer it. 
  “I don’t know,” David said with a slight shrug. “It just... felt 
  like the place, I suppose. Then again, it was just before the 
  ‘20s, and I tell you, New Orleans was fabulous in the ‘20s, all 
  through to the 60’s. It still is, but back then... it was great.” 
  Jack nodded, and he silently thanked the elder for his gift. 
  
  56 
   
   
   
   
   
  Special Thanks 
   
   
   
   
   
  I would like to extend a special thanks to a very dear friend 
  of mine, Anders Petersen. It was he who originally 
  conceptualized Jack Snow, and brought the young man–
  turned–Kindred to unlife in our favorite role–playing game, 
  Vampire: The Masquerade. I always liked how Anders 
  played as Jack, his very first Vampire character, and I felt that 
  the character could do with an official origin story. Not only 
  that, but I also felt that his story could serve as a look into 
  how a Kindred’s first nights were. 
  Thanks for all the great times, my friend! At and away from 
  the table! 
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  Jack was a normal, average–joe New Orleanian. Well, looking away 
  from the fact that he was thirty–four, single, constantly partying like 
  a teenager, and not knowing what to do with life, or what it handed 
  him. Most of his friends moved on, got hitched, had kids, and got 
  steady, decent, honest jobs. But Jack... Jack couldn’t let go. 
   
  One night, as he goes for a stroll to the French Quarter, he hears 
  gunshots. Thinking there’s some sort of gang war going on, he tries to 
  leave, but he runs into a pair of thugs. These thugs, as it turns out, 
  don’t want his money. One of them just makes fun of him. But the 
  other... the other entangles Jack in a world he had never thought 
  could be real. A world of darkness, hidden right below the nose of his 
  former kin, the human population. But now, he can no longer call 
  them kin. 
   
  Ever since that night, Jack was changed, in ways no human could 
  claim to understand. But one man understands. The man who saved 
  him from the sickos who killed him and turned him into something... 
  not human. David Kane, Jack’s last hope of survival, and the guiding 
  mentor Jack could only have hoped would be there. This is a 
  beginning. The beginning, of... 
   
  Jack Snow 
  
  
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Storyteller [multi]/EXTRA/Fiction/Storyteller Vault Fictiion/Jack_Snow.pdf