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  Maiden’s  
   
  Preyer 
  Written by Chris Ironside 
  Art by Jennifer Thorsen 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   © 
  2017 
  White 
  Wolf 
  Entertainment AB. All rights 
  reserved. 
  Vampire: 
  The 
  Masquerade®, 
  World 
  of 
  Darkness®, 
  Storytelling 
  System™, and Storytellers 
  Vault™ 
  are 
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  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. 
  
   
   
   
   
  Maiden’s Preyer 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  June 2, 1999. 10:20 PM.  
  The rain was as warm as blood as it fell. It hissed and 
  splashed in deepening puddles. The lightning no longer 
  flashed its incandescent fangs to bite at the city skyline, but 
  rather at the flesh of the lake beyond. The thunder 
  continued to roar its challenge in great gouts of violent 
  sound, but it was in retreat. Despite this, despite the 
  calming of the night, the prey hid. It cowered in its hovels 
  and holes, tucked away and clustered under overhangs 
  against the hot rain. The prey things were reminded of how 
  small they were, and they cowered together to pretend their 
  numbers made them greater than the fury of the storm.  
  With a cotton t-shirt plastered to a narrow frame, and 
  denim made clinging on her hips and legs by the deluge, 
  Kelly Patterson was not among the prey things. Her long, 
  blonde ringlets were matted and cloying, and she swept 
  them away from the streams of water flowing down her face. 
  It had been a long time since she had gone with her hair 
  
   
  long, but tonight she didn’t want to be recognized. She was 
  too hungry, tonight. She didn’t trust herself, tonight.  
  Kelly stalked the alleys of the Rack, surfacing at their 
  mouths to test the waters only rarely. Like the dorsal fin of 
  a circling shark in the waves, she slipped in and out of view 
  among the sheets of rain and shadows. Her hunger was a 
  thing alive, gnawing at her nerves and thrashing at the edge 
  of control. There were schools of prey all around, but none 
  safe enough to approach. Like blood in the water, red neon 
  glow spread out from many, taunting her and protecting 
  the prey that swam in it.  
  Kelly circled back around the district as thunder rumbled, 
  distant and sounding as malcontent as she felt. The mortals 
  at her haven were there, waiting. They were ready to be the 
  balm to her pain; in many ways, as desperate to be that balm 
  as she was to be soothed. If she didn’t feed soon, she would 
  have to risk them. Or, she thought, she could just claim 
  one. Gordon, perhaps. She could end the ghoul’s plight as 
  accomplice to her killings by becoming one of them. His 
  death would bring an end to the torment clawing at the 
  inside of her skin. In her mind’s eye she saw his confused 
  fear and need to trust as she went to him with fangs out and 
  desire in her eyes. She shivered out of the image and the 
  rationalization at the same time. No, she thought. If she was 
  to kill again tonight, it would not be her choice.  
  The squeal of brakes on a heavy vehicle announced the 
  arrival of a bus at the end of the next alley and Kelly 
  quickened her pace. She could practically taste the blood 
  already, and she licked her fangs as if they dripped with it 
  and not the acidic rain water that instead flowed over them. 
  She drew up to the edge of the alley and glanced into the 
  street, watching for the one who had signaled for the stop. 
  Her chest felt tight, like her heart should be racing, except 
  it didn’t so much as twitch. A flash of lightning out over 
  
   
  Lake Michigan made her flinch back deeper into the 
  shadows as the form stepped out onto the sidewalk. The 
  answering thunder rolled out away from the city, and Kelly 
  waited for it to recede before she eased back to the corner.  
  A long coat of glistening black plastic, more fashionable 
  than warm despite the June heat, swathed the figure of the 
  mortal. The sagging newspaper held over teased-out blonde 
  hair did little to protect the mortal from the rain; most of 
  it simply blew in past the dripping barrier. The woman 
  turned away from Kelly and started off at an awkward jog 
  in her heels. For a moment Kelly was afraid she had been 
  spotted and had spooked the woman. Then she saw the way 
  the mortal kept shielding her eyes and gauging the distance 
  to the four-story tenement barely visible through the rain a 
  few blocks ahead. Kelly began to slip out of the darkness 
  onto the sidewalk but was drawn up short when a car door 
  opened.  
  Half a block ahead, a man stepped out of a car parked at 
  the curb. He was broad in the shoulders, though his height 
  and width were masked by a hunch against the rain. A dark 
  blue windbreaker was zipped tight and soaked with the rain 
  before he’d made it a few feet beyond the shelter of his car. 
  In the flash of interior light, she caught a glimpse of his 
  hard-eyed features and felt kinship. The way he looked at 
  the woman hurrying down the street was as a hunter looked 
  at prey. This man was her competition, she knew. He cut a 
  line toward the woman, who missed half a step as she 
  noticed him angling in her direction.  
  Kelly’s eyes half-lidded as she stepped into the street. Here 
  was an interloper, and challenge. The woman hurried her 
  step and he jogged two to close the distance on his longer 
  legs. Kelly pushed her own pace, but not so that her shoes 
  would splash in the puddles or find the glittering traps of 
  broken glass and crumpled Coca-Cola cans. The man 
  
   
  leaned in as Kelly glided silently towards them. His voice 
  was raised over the volume of the rain, but it wouldn’t have 
  mattered. She had the senses of a predator, where he had 
  only the urges of one. Even without that edge, she could 
  have predicted his words all too easily. She had heard them 
  or their like more than once.  
  “Hey, bad night to be out. Why don’t you let me give you a 
  ride? Car’s right over there,” he invited, and gestured back 
  towards the hulk disappearing in the rain.  
  “W-what? No, thanks,” the woman demurred and tried to 
  put a step of distance between them. He matched it and 
  then some. Kelly crept closer.  
  “C’mon, it’ll be fine. It’s just right there.”  
  “I’m fine,” the reply came, but Kelly could hear her lying. It 
  wasn’t the weather that shook her, though. The prey fear in 
  her voice was audible to both of the predators that were 
  closing in. “I’m not far.”  
  “Anywhere is too far in this weather. Come on. AC’s been 
  on. It’s nice and cool in there.”  
  The woman had nowhere else to retreat except into the 
  alley they were approaching. The barred-windows and 
  graffitied brick of a convenience store, inconveniently 
  closed, blocked her on one side, and the leaning man on 
  the other. Kelly heard the hunger in his voice like an echo 
  of her own given sound. The prey sounds in the woman’s 
  voice and the prey sign in the woman’s posture were 
  alluring, but the man was a challenge to her domain. Lions 
  fought over prey, too. A carcass would wait, but a challenge 
  had to be answered. She slid closer still.  
  “No, thanks,” the woman protested. Kelly watched her 
  struggle against the instinct to take the alley. The prey in 
  her wanted to be safe and hidden and away from the threat 
  looming nearby. The human in her knew the sanctuary the 
  
   
  narrow space offered was an illusion. “Really, it’s fine. 
  Thank you. I’m sorry.”  
  “What’s the matter with you?” the man charged. A bit of 
  fang and claw in his voice, now, even as Kelly’s more literal 
  version slipped back under her control and out of sight. 
  “C’mon, bitch, I’m trying to help you out.”  
  “Something wrong?” Kelly oozed as she came to a stop. 
  Predator and prey both leaped at her intrusion. Heartbeats 
  hammered at Kelly, syncopated and as wild as any racing 
  herd of horses. Predator scowled, and prey breathed a sigh 
  of relief.  
  “None of your business,” the man answered, but the 
  woman’s eyes were pleading.  
  “Sorry I was late,” Kelly said to the woman. He didn’t like 
  being dismissed from her attention or ignored. “I was 
  hoping your bus would be, too, given the rain.”  
  “What?” the prey said, confused. Then Kelly watched 
  realization dawn in her eyes. “Oh, no, it’s okay. Thanks for 
  coming.”  
  The man flicked his gaze between the two of them. The prey 
  gave off prey signs: jerky glances, a shiver despite the heat 
  and blood-hot rain, fidgeting movements that pulled at 
  Kelly with an urge to attack. Kelly showed him only 
  confident coolness, almost daring, as water sluiced off her 
  all unheeded. His own confusion began to rise, and Kelly 
  slipped up to put her hand around the woman’s elbow. The 
  quality of Kelly’s stare backed him up half a step and the 
  two women started away before he could react.  
  “I’m Cathy,” the woman whispered. “Thank you so much.”  
  “Kelly,” she gave as answer, just as quietly. Behind her she 
  heard the man’s first footfall in pursuit. It was heavy, like 
  he wanted to beat the water under it to death. “Just stay 
  calm; it isn’t over,” she warned.  
  
   
  “Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” he called and the prey 
  flinched. Kelly’s reaction was a second too slow as she 
  struggled to keep from lunging at the woman. The leap of 
  the mortal’s already-adrenaline-jolted heart was a palpable 
  thing attached as she was to Kelly’s hand.  
  “Ow!” the woman cried, and Kelly snapped back to 
  awareness of something other than the urge to kill. Her 
  attention tracked the resistance to her hold on the woman’s 
  arm and saw the man had her other arm.  
  “I said, let’s go, bitch!” he spat.  
  The warm rain cascading over her seemed to tint as red as 
  the blood it felt like. Kelly was moving before she felt her 
  muscles acting. She had his wrist in her hand in a flash, and 
  the crashing of his pulse was so different from the thread, 
  rabbit-quick beat of the prey’s heart. “Let go of her,” she 
  snarled up at him.  
  “I told you, this is none of your business!” he shot down at 
  Kelly. She saw the backhand coming and had enough time 
  to show him the glimmer of a smile before it landed. Water 
  splashed hot and thick, and the wet smack of her matted 
  locks twisting across her cheek was nearly as loud as the 
  impact of his knuckles across her chin.  
  “Help!” the woman screamed. She drew the word out until 
  it lost its shape and meaning. The only answer was a low 
  peal of thunder miles away over the uncaring Great Lake.  
  “Shut up!” he shouted, and Kelly didn’t see the next heavy 
  smack. It had the sound of knuckles in it, a fist against 
  cheekbone.  
  Kelly recovered from the blow as he was lifting his fist again. 
  The woman was collapsing to the sidewalk beside her, but 
  from the tension that built in his arm she wouldn’t hit her 
  knees before the fist came down again. What she could see 
  of the scene from behind the screen of her hair was further 
  
   
  occluded by the veil of crimson that drifted in and out of 
  view in time to the racing heartbeats. With a snarl, Kelly 
  shoved him back. Her tongue found a trickle of blood at 
  the corner of her lips and she shuddered.  
  “Oh, you want more? Fine, twice the fun,” the man insisted 
  and his fist came at her like a piston fueled by rage. She 
  could see the sheet of rain break like the tide on the shore 
  against the onrushing knuckles. She saw every droplet of 
  water pushed back towards the straining tendons in his 
  wrist. She side-stepped the blow and he stumbled forward 
  past her. With another shove she sent him over the curb to 
  tumble to his hands and knees in the street.  
  “Walk away,” she warned. Kelly didn’t want to warn him. 
  It was taking everything she had to hold back. She could 
  feel the points of her fangs just starting to emerge against 
  her will in the line of her teeth. She wanted him to get back 
  to his feet, or else to drag him to them. Instead, she pulled 
  the woman to hers.  
  “Go,” she hissed over her shoulder, but the prey sobbed. 
  “Now,” she demanded, but the prey shrank away.  
  The man in the street growled and slapped his palms into 
  the puddle of gutter water Kelly had put him in. Kelly 
  stepped between the prey and the predator as he got to his 
  feet and began to turn towards them. “You’re in for it now, 
  bitch. I’ll show you what you get.” Kelly’s vision began to 
  redden again and she forgot the prey as his hand reached 
  for his pocket.  
  Chick. A gleaming edge flashed at the end of his hand as 
  lightning illuminated the street. Kelly’s eyes flashed just as 
  dangerously, and her lips curled back. He blinked through 
  the darkness that descended in the wake of the bolt, and so 
  missed the gleam of her fangs. As the thunder crashed and 
  echoed, it drowned out his heartbeat and she stepped closer 
  to catch it again. He thought she was closing with him and 
  
   
  matched her step.  
  “Gonna make you pay, bitch,” he spat at her, his words wet 
  with the rain.  
  The woman screamed as she saw his arm thrust forward 
  toward Kelly, low and intended to leave a lingering wound. 
  A wound that would bleed into the belly, fill it with the 
  fetus of Death that would grow and crush down on lungs 
  and heart, that would steal breath in squeezing fingers of 
  fear. The sound echoing from the heedless buildings 
  around was as sharp in Kelly’s senses as the imagined edge 
  of the knife. She smiled again as he committed to the strike, 
  put his weight into it and rushed towards her. Too late, he 
  saw her fangs in the smile.  
  Kelly grunted with the impact of his weight. She was carried 
  across the sidewalk and barely felt the hard lines of steel dig 
  into her back. Her air was driven from her lungs as shoulder 
  crushed her chest in a bruising impact. She felt no fear at 
  the breathlessness, only a frustration that her furious hiss 
  would have no wings upon which to fly. When the hilt of 
  the knife left a bruise that spread through her starved cells, 
  she barely felt that, too. Blood fell in sheets all around her, 
  and she wanted more.  
  Another scream, male and of agony rather than terror. 
  Bone snapped, a crunch of thunder, as Kelly bent his wrist 
  back from the knife. Kelly’s preternatural senses felt the 
  tendons roll up under the flesh like worms writhing up the 
  length of the pulsing veins. Blood scent filled the air at last, 
  and she felt it pulse hot and thick against her belly. Too 
  quickly, it faded, carried to the ground by the torrent. The 
  predator tried to flee.  
  He stumbled back away from her and, still screaming, 
  clutched his hand to his belly. The woman screamed again 
  as she saw the strange angle at which his hand dangled, but 
  Kelly was beyond hearing her. There was blood in the water 
  
   
  and the feeding frenzy had begun. Kelly lunged forward and 
  latched her mouth on the jagged stump to capture the 
  chaotic gush. She managed three, long swallows before the 
  jagged bone spears pierced her tongue and lips and she was 
  shoved back. The predator turned to run.  
  Kelly was on him in a flash. She leapt onto his back and 
  clutched at him with arm and leg. Like a spider she enclosed 
  him, and her fangs found his neck before the rain could 
  fully wash the arterial spurt from her face. He cried out and 
  went down as the drug of her kindred’s bite stole his 
  strength. Behind her, another scream that didn’t matter. 
  The blood came, rich with adrenaline and the hormones of 
  need unleashed. Kelly gorged in swallow after swallow. 
  When it slowed, she felt ribs crushed under her grip as she 
  fought and squeezed and urged the last drops to her. 
  Catharsis crashed through her in a convulsive wave that 
  scattered her senses to the void for quivering seconds.  
  When the crimson curtain was lifted from her gaze, the hiss 
  of rain was softer; a snicker instead of a nest of agitated 
  vipers. She licked the last of the water-weakened blood from 
  her fingers, and then Kelly heard the retching. She followed 
  the sound of heaving stomach to find the woman leaned 
  over the sidewalk. A thick flow of bile hung in strings from 
  her lips and was washed across the sidewalk toward the 
  drain in the slackening rain. Kelly felt a sharp pain in her 
  abdomen and looked down to see the knife hilt jutting 
  there. She reached to pull it free but before she could her 
  attention was hauled back up to the woman by a ragged 
  gasp.  
  “P-please,” the mortal stammered and shrank against the 
  wall. “Don’t kill me.”  
  “I told you to run,” Kelly rasped between her fangs and 
  behind the red-stained falls of her matted hair. It was a 
  mask as surely as any stocking might be, and she peered out 
  
   
  from behind it. The lightning that flashed at her back 
  would do nothing to show her face behind the locks. The 
  woman flinched at the grate of Kelly’s voice.  
  Kelly stood from her hunch on the dead man without a 
  glance in his direction. There was no slime of guilt that 
  clung to her skin under the rushing of water. Not for him. 
  He had been a predator hunting, and he had picked the 
  wrong prey. He forgot the first rule of the predator: survive. 
  Some night, perhaps, she would make that same mistake, 
  but it was not this night. She swooned in the heady rush of 
  victory until she realized the woman was staring at the knife 
  jutting from the bunched fabric of her t-shirt. She tugged it 
  out of her innards and felt her flesh do its old, healing trick 
  around the blade’s withdrawal. Wide-eyed and terrified, the 
  woman watched it tumble from Kelly’s fingers to the street 
  beside the corpse.  
  “Is…” she began, but Kelly saw her answer her own question 
  as she stared at the sightless eyes of the man’s dying mask 
  of fear. Her shaking hands came up to her mouth and Kelly 
  heard the mortal’s throat clench against the slosh of a 
  stomach in revolt, but without contents to further 
  unburden itself.  
  “Go home, Cathy,” Kelly grated. When the only response 
  she got in return was a prey’s headlight-stoned stare, she 
  roared it instead. Cathy ran, and Kelly watched her go, 
  chased by the cackle of thunder.  
  Kelly bent to grab the leg of the body below and drag it 
  toward the alley and what she hoped was a dumpster due 
  to be collected soon. The crushing injuries would, at a 
  glance, possibly be mistaken for the work of the compactor 
  in the truck if the body should show up in the landfill. She 
  grunted with the effort of lifting the body into the 
  receptacle she discovered waiting for her after she had 
  recovered wallet and keys from his pockets. She shoved the 
  
   
  artifacts into her own pockets for later disposal as she went 
  back to recover the knife.  
  The wild red arcs of the predator’s death were already 
  washing away, and soon the street had forgotten the 
  murder. Kelly returned to the mortals that clustered around 
  and depended on her, now that she had made them safe 
  from their benefactor once again.  
   
   
  
   
  Afterword 
   
  Maiden’s Preyer is a work of fiction, but the 
  scenario presented is all-too real for many women around 
  the world. According to the Canadian Women’s Foundation, 
  in 2014 alone there were 553,000 self-reported sexual 
  assaults in Canada. Worse, 82% of sexual assaults target 
  girls under the age of 18. In Canada, sexual assault is the 
  only violent crime that isn’t in decline, and victims are 
  more often than not amongst the most vulnerable 
  members of society. 
  We can all be a little bit of Kelly and bring this 
  abhorrent situation to an end (though hopefully not with 
  the finality of Kelly’s methods).  
   
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Storyteller [multi]/EXTRA/Fiction/Storyteller Vault Fictiion/Maidens Preyer (with bookmarks) 596988- Print.pdf