FicWad

AN: Hi all, as mentioned in my profile, here's the next part! To be honest though it didn't realy go to plan, and infact the chapter was becoming so long, that I've split it in two. The second part isn't complete (And as I'm going on a business trip all next week, most likely won't be done until at least two or three weeks.)

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Two clans stand
in open rebellion
to the Masquerade.
Supported by renegade antitribu
from the Camarilla clans,
they are collectively known as the
Sabbat.
They seek freedom from the rules
of the Camarilla, and they
strive to reduce mankind
to the status of cattle.
The centuries long-war
between these two sects has
escalated -- perhaps beyond control.
The anthem of the Sabbat is
total Kindred freedom.
It is this philosophy
that makes them
deadly guerrilla warriors
and a shockingly
disorganized sect.
One Sabbat pack
is seldom aware of
the agenda of
another.



"Greetings neonate" The unexpected voice caused Harry to jump and reach for a wand which wasn't there. 'Damn it!' he thought furiously. How did he expect to survive Voldemort if he couldn't even spot a bloke standing in his own apartment? "Who are you? What do you want?" He asked bravely, noticing in dismay his missing wand being twirled between the fingers of his unknown guest. The man smiled, showing sharp teeth. 'Kindred' Harry realised with a start.

"There is no need for alarm, young one," the vampire said soothingly, "I am merely here to... there is no need for that." Harry froze, revolver half drawn.

"How do I know that?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Here," The kindred smiled, tossing the wand to Harry, who caught it automatically and pointed it back towards the vampire. "My name is Maximilian Straus. At your service." Maximilian bowed his head gracefully. "As for why I am here, why I am here to help you. After all, we share the same blood."

"You're Tremere?" Harry asked hopefully. Maybe this was his chance to learn about thaumaturgy.

"Indeed," Maximilian confirmed "In fact, I am the regent of this city."

"Regent?" Harry questioned uncertainly.

"The Tremere have their own... hierarchy. We are a close knit clan, often residing in the same haven - which is called a Chantry. A regent is the leader of each local Chantry. I am regent of the Los Angeles Chantry and thus, to use a crude acronym, the local 'prince' of the Tremere in Los Angeles."

"Oh," Harry said intelligently, "Does that mean I'm a part of this chantry?"

Maximilian shook his head slowly. "Unfortunately not," he said "your turning was... unusual. You see, we select our brethren with extreme care and thorough research... You have been turned outside of our usual practices, which creates somewhat of a problem. Or perhaps an opportunity."

"How so," Harry asked, interested despite himself. That wasn't enough however for him to drop his guard.

"Well..." Maximilian began, before glancing at Harry's wand "Firstly could you lower your wand, I assure you that you will not need it. In fact, you will never need it again."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded, tightening his grip.

"I make no threat, neonate, I merely meant that your wand will no longer be of use to you. Try it" Maximilian suggested. Harry examined his wand suspiciously, before leveling it at an empty beer bottle on the floor.

"Wingardium Leviosa" He commanded with a swish and a flick. Nothing happened. Harry looked down at his wand in shock, before attempting again "Lumos!" No reaction. Furiously, he pointed the wand at Maximilian, who watched serenely, before dropping the useless wand, and pulling out the .38. "What did you do!" He demanded loudly.

"Nothing. I assure you," Maximilian responded calmly, "unfortunately however it is a basic tenant of our condition that the magic of the living cannot be wielded by the undead." Harry's heart would have skipped a beat had it still worked.

"What?" he asked weakly. Magic was something that made his life tolerable - hell it was the only good thing he'd ever had. Now it was gone.

"I'm sorry Harry, believe me when I say that your shock was much like my own. Loosing magic was like loosing a part of myself.," Maximilian smiled sympathetically "But do not despair. We have learnt to adapt. You will find that the art of Thaumaturgy, while perhaps not having the vast range of powers that traditional magic enjoys, more than equals it in terms of pure power."

"I... you were a wizard?" Harry asked in suprise.

"Yes," Maximilian answered with a nod "most kine chosen by the clan to be turned are wizards. In fact the originator of our line, Tremere, was himself once a wizard."

"Wow," Harry breathed, taking a moment to slowly calm himself. He looked up at Maximilian again, idly holstering his gun. "If you're not here to make me part of the... chantry," Harry used the unfamiliar word with care "Why are you here?"

"Straight Down to business," Maximilian smiled approvingly "I know that the prince has a task for you. To do this, you should speak to Mecurio. He works for the prince, and lives close by. I believe the details are in this letter." He said pointing to an unnoticed page on Harry's bed, which Harry immediately pocketed. "I would suggest you complete this mission, not only because if it is what I expect it to be, it is one of extreme importance, but also in order to clear any perceived debt you may have to LaCroix."

Harry picked up the letter, scanning it quickly, before looking up in shock. "He wants me to blow up a warehouse!"

"Ah..." Maximilian smiled smugly "As I thought... It will not be an easy task, perhaps even..." Maximilian trailed of in thought for a second before his smile reasserted itself. "No matter. In any case it is one you must complete. After you accomplish this task, do not go to the Prince - instead, come and see me. From there, you will be sent to England."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously, "Why not see what the Prince says? And why do you want to send me to England? Why should I do anything you say?"

"Good questions all," Maximilian replied "To answer them in the order you asked, firstly is to get you out of the Prince's influence. You have a touch of destiny about you Harry, one which should not be wasted on the Prince's Machiavellian maneuvering. This mission he has sent you on is a proving ground. Should you fail, he will regain face he lost by allowing you to live when he killed your sire. Should you succeed, he will have a powerful newcomer who owes his life to him. Secondly, you should go to England in order to battle Lord Voldemort."

Harry started in surprise at the name, before looking at Maximilian "You know who I am?"

"Indeed," Maximilian smiled "While I have no idea why you are here, or why you are far older than you should be, there is no denying it. How many powerful English wizards with green eyes and a lightning bolt scar are there?"

"Well you haven't answered my last question." Harry said, struggling to regain his composure. "Why should I do anything you say."

Maximilian smiled, and raised his hands in a placating gesture "Because I'm offering help." He said simply "Our goals, at this juncture are the same. Stopping the Dark Lord. Granted our motivations may be different..."

"How?" Harry asked immediately.

"You wish to stop him presumably to save your friends, or to avenge your parents" Maximilian sighed tolerantly, "I on the other hand am worried of new rumours arising. Rumours that Voldemort is in negotiations with the Sabbat for their services." Harry gasped in shock. Maximilian nodded grimly. "The Sabbat attack us everywhere, however there are some areas which they have not intruded. England is one such place. We cannot allow the Sabbat a foothold in England. You must destroy Voldemort before he allows the Sabbat to enter the country." Maximilian sighed again, "The way ahead of you is dark, but you must suceed. Here." He said, pulling a book out from under his coat and handing it to Harry. Harry squinted at the title 'Puissance de précurseur du sang'

"erm..." Harry tried "What language is this in? Is that French?"

"Not to worry, neonate," Maximilian soothed "The original book was written in French - this however is a translated version. It is a basic book on thaumaturgy, and explores some of the earlier theory behind the art. While most of the theory in the book has long since been replaced, it is still useful. Most useful to you however will be the five spells it contains. The first, blood strike is one you should be able to cast now. The others are more complex and powerful, and will require some experience and practice before you can successfully cast them." Maximilian turned and walked to the door, before pausing in the frame to turn back. "One thing, young one. Do not show this book to anyone. The secrets of Thaumaturgy are not for the eyes of those outside of the Tremere clan. Far better the book is destroyed rather than captured."

"I will." Harry nodded absently, paging quickly through the book.

"Good luck, neonate." Maximilian said softly, and when Harry looked up, he was gone. Harry sighed, and picked up his wand, examining it in the light. It amazed him that something that was so important - something that was so powerful - was now nothing more than a polished stick.

Harry dropped the wand carelessly on the small coffee table, before pulling the letter out of his pocket, and smoothing it out. Only one thought came to mind while reading it. This was bullshit. Harry read the orders with growing dread. Apparently he had to get a large - and unstable - explosive device from the Princes agent, a guy named Mecurio, take said device through what was probably a heavily defended enemy warehouse, plant said device - which had a three minute timer, and escape the blast zone. All without getting dead. Harry sighed heavily. He almost wished he was back under Dumbledoor's thumb. Not quite though. Harry looked out the window with a sigh. Wouldn't be long till morning - might as well get some sleep, and start again tomorrow. With that, he carefully closed the blinds and secured them as best he could, before lying on the cheap mattress.

The building was huge. Apparently it was only made up of apartments, but they were very high quality apartments, much better than the cheap studio he had. In fact, if it wasn't for the large blood trail entering the building, Harry would have been impressed. He carefully entered the building, avoiding the blood - which appeared to still be wet, and followed it, to apartment 3 - the apartment Mecurio lived in. No real surprise there, Harry though grimly, carefully pushing the door open with one hand, the other on the butt of his revolver. The apartment was nice, a large flat screen TV against the wall next to the door, a walnut trunk next to a glass table in the center of the room, and behind them, an expensive leather couch - which currently was being bled on by a prostrate form.

"Hey, are you okay?" Harry asked tentatively,

"Those mothers... ripped me off!" The form gasped in between pained breaths.

"Are you Mecurio?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, oh you're the new kid right?" Mecurio answered, attempting to lever himself up, before collapsing back down again with a grimace.

"I'm Harry, its, er, nice to meet you." Harry said awkwardly

"Look, kid, I'm bleeding out my ass here, I ain't got time for this social shit." Mecurio groaned, before calming once again, "Look, those bastards, they took the explosives. You got to get them back."

"Okay," Harry agreed quickly, "Who took them?"

"Those small time sons of bitches, they got some dump on the beach, down by the pier."

"Okay," Harry said, "Er, how do I get there?"

Mecurio looked up "I'm lying in a pool of my own blood and you're asking for directions?" He asked incredulously before quickly relenting, "Look, just go down to the beach, there should be a... a stairway on the right against the cliff. Look, you need to get those explosives back. Just go there and... and do what you guys do."

"I'll go there straight away." Harry agreed. "Look, you look like you're in pain, do you need anything?"

"Ah, yeah," Mecurio breathed, "If you can get hold of something for the pain I'd be grateful,"

"I'll keep an eye out." Harry promised before heading towards the door.

"Hey kid!"

Harry turned around inquisitively at Mecurio who had managed to lever himself up slightly, and stared at him with a worried look. "Look, could you keep this to yourself? I mean, if word got out that I lost the explosives..." He trailed off.

"Don't worry," Harry agreed quickly, "I won't tell anyone" Mecurio slumpt back onto the couch with a sigh, some of the worry leaving his face.

Harry made his way through the night, and made it unmolested to the beach. It was then that he spotted four figures on the beach arrayed around a small fire. As Harry approached though, they immediately got to their feet, in a wary but defiant manner. The group was made up of three men, and a woman, one of the men slightly ahead of the rest.

"Are you gunna chase us off? Look we're not hurting no-one." The first man said.

"What?" Harry asked confused. The four had stopped their actions and watched him with fearful eyes.

"It's like I told the others, we'll go as soon as..."

"Look," Harry interrupted, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Y, y, y, you mean you're n,n,not going to run us off?" A second bloke timidly stuttered.

"No," Harry replied exasperated, "I'm not. Why would I?"

"Dunno," The first answered with a shrug, "But you types are always trying to get rid of us."

"Is there something wrong with you?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I'm not rightly sure." The man replied. "I'm E by the way."

"Harry," Harry answered 'E'.

"This here's Copper," E said, pointing at the blond headed guy, who gave a short wave, "This is Rosa," pointing at the dark haired beauty, who smiled "She can see the future!" E said loudly, "so she claims," he whispered conspiratorially to Harry, who hid a smile at Rosa's dark look at E - apparently who had not whispered quietly enough. "Anyway," E continued hurriedly "this is Julius." E pointed at the stutterer, "He's a little nervous."

"Anyway, we seem to have come down with the same disease..." E said before trailing off with a resigned sigh, "Who am I kidding. We're a bad horror show alright? We seem to be the runts. The mistakes. You types call us Thin Bloods. Ha. I say we're equally screwed."

"Thin bloods?" Harry asked, his voice tight - the word close to another he despised. "What does that mean."

"Damned if I know," E snorted bitterly "I know you don't want to be one. You seem to be in the club, you tell me?"

"I'm kind of new to this." Harry answered apologetically, "why don't you tell me how it happened?"

"It started with a girl, she had a natural beauty" E answered, a dreamy smile appearing, "Her name was Lilly. I remember introducing myself; how she seemed grateful for the company."

"Lilly?" Harry asked, his voice carefully blank.

"Aye," E said, the smile slipping, as his eyes unfocused. "She tried to tell me what she was, but I didn't understand. So... so she showed me." E paused, his throat tight. "I was furious with her! I cursed her and left, never really knowing what I was... I know now how she must have felt. So now here I am. A mystery to myself." E trailed off.

"Maybe I can help you," Harry offered sympathetically,

"I hope you have better luck than I have," E said gloomily, "I know she used to hang around the old diner opposite that Asylum club. Everytime I try to go and look, some of your kind run me off..." With that depressing story in his mind, Harry gave a tentative goodbye to the group, and headed up the railing towards the beach house.

"What the hell do you want?" the thug was leaning on the small fence surrounding the beach house. Large plate windows showed at least two other thugs walking around inside. Harry walked up to the waiting thug with a tight smile, and a feigned confidence.

"I heard you are the blokes to see about purchasing rare stuff."

"'You blokes'? Who the fuck talks like that? Look, prick, get the hell out of here." the thug snarled, picking up a baseball bat.

"I need to get in." Harry said firmly, tensing.

"Fuck you!" The thug shouted bringing the bat around in a vicious swing. Harry was ready for him however and ducked under, coming up with a wild uppercut. Unlike with the Sabbat vampire, this blow landed well, and lifted the human into the air with a surprised grunt, tossing him back through the plate glass.

The smash of glass heralded a moment of shocked silence, until the night was broken with gunfire. Dodging madly, Harry dived behind a nearby car frame, which although would probably never see the road again, served well enough as cover from the .38 slugs. Harry awkwardly dug out his own revolver, and sighted over the car. The figures ducked in and out of view in the well lit window giving Harry the momentary impression of the cheap arcade games he saw Dudley play years ago. A head popped into view, and Harry fired instinctively. The figure sprouted a red dot on his forehead and a surprised look, before toppling over out of view.

The firing from inside stopped for a brief second with a yell of "Jesus Christ!" before it doubled in it's intensity. The wreck began ringing out with metal hits, hurting Harry's ears, until he finally had enough and made a mad dash for the door. Harry made it relatively unscaved - hot pain in his left shoulder and leg suggesting he had taken a couple of hits at least - and steadied himself against the outside door jam. Harry took a deep unnecessary breath before stepping into the open doorway and opening fire. When the hammer clicked on an empty chamber, Harry lowered the gun to see three thugs on the ground, two motionless, one jerking for a moment before lying still. He himself wasn't in great shape having taken quite a few hits in the exchange, but at least all the thugs were dead.

Harry examined the room; there was not much left. The door behind him led outside, a door to the left led to what appeared to be a bedroom, and a door ahead. The TV against the wall had taken a few bullets and sat dead. Harry stepped over the bodies, careful not to look at them, through the door. A whistling sound was the only warning as something metallic connected with his head. Harry fell back as the blows kept coming. The pain increased, as did his desperation. "I will not go out like this!" He raged to himself - though his body disagreed, and continued to ignore his commands. His rage and frustration mounted until something snapped, and a red film enveloped his gaze.

Harry looked around in confusion. What happened? The pain had stopped - in fact, he felt really good, as though he had just fed. At his feet, a final thug - who must have been the one hiding behind the door - lay with his throat torn out. Strangely (Or not so strangely Harry thought, slightly disquieted.) there was no blood visible from the wound, or on the ground. Harry licked his lips and was not surprised when it was tasty. Harry processed that for a second before shrugging resigned "Shouldn't of fucked with me," He muttered uncomfortably, walking over to the explosive which was conveniently on the table nearby. Harry turned to leave, before shrugging, and quickly searching the desk. To the victor goes the spoils, he justified to himself - after all, these guys were stoners and dealers; surely they'd have something lying around he could give Mecurio? This belief was quickly substantiated, as a drawer opened reveiled a pile of pill bottles. Looking at the labels for a second in bewilderment, he simply shrugged and pocketed the lot. 'Mecurio will know which to take,' he reasoned, leaving the beach house quickly, as his ears picked up the faint sound of sirens. Harry quickly jogged arross the beach, nodding to E's gloomy group, and jogged back up to the street, not noticing the eyes watching him from the cliff top. They watched until Harry ran out of sight, before bounding away.

"Hey, you still alive?" Harry asked lightly. Mecurio groaned and opened his eyes wearily.

"Ha, goddam ha kid." He muttered, before brightening up "Did you get the stuff?"

"Yep!" Harry answered with a smile, showing Mecurio the explosives. "I even got pills!"

"Great!" Mecurio smiled "Pass them here!" Harry awkwardly dug the bottles out of his pocket, and carefully placed them on the couch with Mecurio, several dropping onto the ground. Mecurio stared at the bottles in disbelief, gently shaking one and hearing the rattle. "What the hell is this? What did you do? Rob a chemist?" he asked, searching through the bottles.

"No," Harry said defensively, "I found them at the beachhouse. But i didn't know what was what so..."

"So you brought it all." Mecurio nodded, "Lets see if there's any... aha!" Mecurio smiled victoriously, opening a bottle, and swallowing a handful of pills. "Oh, christ... I needed that." Mecurio sighed, a blissful look coming over his face. After a moment, he looked up at Harry, clarity in his eyes. "So did you waste those fuckers?"

"Well... yeah," Harry admitted uncomfortably. They had tried to kill him, and as Jack said, that was perfectly alright to defend himself, but it still felt strange.

"Good. Great. Hope it was painful." Mecurio smiled viciously.

"So, where's this place I'm supposed to blow?" Harry asked.

"Well, about that," Mecurio said "I'm not exactly sure. Only guy that can help you is a guy called Bertum Tung."

"Bertum?" Harry asked, "Where can I find him?"

"That's where it gets interesting." Mecurio said hesitantly "Betrum's one of your type. A Nosferatu. Word is he's one of the biggest players in Santa Monica. Problem is he's beefing with Therese Vorman. She's the real power in these parts."

"So..." Harry trailed off. Mecurio simply stared uncomprehendingly. "What am I supposed to do?" Harry asked exasperated.

"Look, Betrum's lying low. Chances are, you won't find him until Therese calls the feud." Mecurio said, much calmer as the drugs did their work. "Therese and her sister run a club down the street, called the Asylum. Strange place."

"Okay," Harry said, "So I just go there and get her to call of the feud. How exactly?" He asked.

"How the hell should I know? You're the vamp, I'm just the ghoul." Mecurio retorted.

"Ghoul?" Harry asked intrigued, "What's that?"

"Whats... oh that's right, you're straight of the bus ain't you?" Mecurio sighed, before adopting a lecturing tone, "A ghoul is the servant of a kindred like yourself. The kindred feeds us their blood, presto chango, we gain a whole lot of powers like strength, long life - hell, I'm eighty seven - and a body that can take a beating. 'ts the only reason I'm still alive after that beating those stoner pricks gave me." Mecurio added with a frown.

"Sounds like a good deal," Harry stated with a frown, "What's the catch."

"The catch is that we are totally loyal to our master. Hell, I still got problems sayin' his name." Mecurio said with a smirk, "All in all though, it ain't a bad deal." he shrugged. "Anyway kid, you'd better get moving, that warehouse ain't blowing it self up."

"Are you going to be alright?" Harry asked with concern. Mecurio nodded affirmatively.

"Don't worry about me, Harry, I got another shipment of blood coming in tomorrow, soon as I get that in me, I'll heal up as quick as you guys do."

"Alright," Harry replied, "I'll see you later."

"Don't be a stranger," Mecurio nodded, before lying back on the couch and closing his eyes.

Harry walked through the cold night, though not feeling the cold. It was strange, although he knew intellectually that it was dark, he could see perfectly clearly. He walked quickly through several alleys, towards a deep thumping. As he got closer, the sound resolved itself into a driving base from a fast paced Gothic club song. Harry walked around to corner to see a dark red sign 'The Asylum' casting a red glare over everything. He looked around with a frustrated sigh. There was a long line of people lined outside the club patiently, all dressed in various themes of leather, latex, and other Gothic styled clothes.

'Bugger it,' he thought to himself, 'might as well check out about Lilly. Maybe the line will die down later.' With that determination made, he turned and entered the diner which was, as E had said, across the street.

"What'll it be?" The old lady asked, barely looking up from her register.

"I'm looking for someone." Harry answered "Her name's Lilly."

"Lilly?" The woman mused, "Doesn't ring a bell."

"She's a thin blonde. Used to hang around surfer blokes."

"Hmm, a thin blonde and a surfer, oh yeah, we only see about fifty of them a week" the woman answered sarcastically.

"Maybe she said something about thin bloods" Harry pressed.

The woman looked up, a glint of recognition in her eyes "Thin blood, yeah, where did I hear that... Oh that's right, I know who you're talking about, thin girl, always looking sad. Never ate or drank anything, but just sat here all night. Poor girl. Last time I saw her she left some of her stuff. Maybe you can return it?"

"Sure," Harry answered with a smile, "I'd be happy to." The woman rummaged under the counter for a second, before finally handing over a book. Harry walked out of the diner, ducking around to a nearby street lamp and opening the book - a diary, he noticed absently.

Harry read through quickly, his sympathy for the woman growing. Apparently, she had been turned and when her sire released that she was a thin blood, had abandoned her in the streets of LA. Since then she had lived alone, feeding of stray animals and rats, alone. Until she met E, the only one who had been kind to her. She had, over the course of several nights fallen in love, and eventually gathered the courage to tell E about the 'curse' she had, and when he hadn't understood, had turned him. He had, as he said, spurned her, and she left, broken hearted. The next few entries in the diary spoke of her growing hunger - how she didn't trust herself to feed anymore. The diary recorded her growing desperation to resist her impulses which grew darker as her hunger increased. In the last entry, it noted that there was a blood bank nearby - and that she would try to buy or steal some. Harry closed the diary with a heavy heart. He was more resolved than ever to find the poor girl, and reunite her with E. The obvious next place to look was the blood bank. Harry set off with a determined stride.

Harry circled the building carefully, before sidling over to a side door, which was fortunately unlocked. He snuck carefully through a clinic area, avoiding the nurse, before ducking into a room as a doctor walked by absently paging through a chart. Harry stood at the door, carefully watching the doctor leave, before a rattling breath behind him caught his attention. The girl was in a pitiful condition. She didn't have the strength to raise her head, and could barely look at him. Her red hair spayed out around her, looking disturbingly like blood, while her green eyes dully attempted to focus on him. Blood dripped slowly from her bed to the ground.

"Please..." she gasped struggling for breathe. "I need a doctor," she pleaded weakly. Harry carefully brushed the hair out of her face.

"You'll be alright," He soothed unconvincingly, grabbing her chart. Harry's heart sank as he flipped through - words such as 'terminal' jumping out. He sighed. The girl - Heather - her chart said, was only 20. Shot, it appeared, in a bungled robbery. "It will be okay, Heather." He tried to smile. Harry gently stroked her hair feeling powerless as a coughing fit enveloped her. 'Wait!' he thought suddenly, 'what was it Mecurio had said?' Indeed, Harry furiously thought about the brief conversation he had on ghouls. He had the power to save her. However, indecision racked him. Is it right to doom this girl? What price will it be to save her from a quick death and give her a lifetime of servitude worse than the lowliest of house-elves? No, Harry thought firmly. Better she die a natural death than be cursed to be a servant.

Just as Harry stood to leave, Heather reached up, and weakly grasped his hand, "h, Help me?" She begged. The anguished desperation in her voice forced him back to his chair. 'Maybe it's not so bad,' he thought, 'after all Dobby seems happy enough, maybe she will regain her free will with time, Mecurio seems to have it together...' a wretched sob as Heather coughed up some blood made the decision for him, and he carefully slit his wrist with a sharpened fingernail, and gently lay it across the stricken redhead's mouth. At first, nothing happened, but after a second, Harry saw her throat swallow. As the first mouthful of blood went down, Heather's eyes widened, and she grasped his wrist with an unnatural strength, drawing the blood down in desperate gulps. After a few moments, when Harry felt his own supplied dropping low, he wrenched his arm away from the girl - with a surprising amount of difficulty. Heather lay for a second, peaceful at last, a tentative smile on her lips as she looked up at him. "You," She breathed in awe. "I feel like I know you... Like you've always been there." she smiled before a confused look crossed her face "who... who are you? what did you do? What did you do to me?"

"I just wanted to help," Harry said gently, drawing back from the bed.

"You did something," She breathed in wonder "I kissed your wrist... " She paused, eyes unfocused for a second "I can feel it inside me... fixing me..."

"I must go," Harry said, quickly exiting the room before Heather could reply. His good deed done for the day, Harry quickly made his way past the clinic rooms into the office area without attracting attention.

The security at the blood bank was laughable. Well, okay, for most people, breaking into an upstairs office, avoiding two patrolling security guards (as well as taking a snack from one of them on the way), clambering through three flights of air conditioning duct, then smashing through a thin wall might be somewhat difficult. But for a vampire, they might as well have opened the front door. Harry crept through the hallway, and opened the last doorway. Lilly had to be here. He had checked every other room in the blood bank area, and this was the final room he had not checked. Harry crept through the small room, halfway through a rattling caught his attention. He turned horrified, to see a wasted form slumped in a chair, heavy shackled appearing huge on her thin wrists. As Harry walked towards her, her eyes slowly focused on him. "Hunger, I feel it. Blood, I need it!"

"Are you Lilly?" He asked tentatively.

"Release me! Please! I'll do anything!"

"Calm down," Harry soothed, working at the locks "I'll get you out of here." The shackles clicked off, and Lilly slumped down, before catching herself, Harry rushing to steady her. She looked up at Harry with a wild look in her eye, causing Harry to swallow, and forcibly remind himself that he was the alpha predator here, before her attention sharpened on someone behind him. He spun to look, but Lilly beat him to it, tackling the figure to the ground with a feline like snarl. The figure struggled in fear as Lilly bit into him, before gradually going still. For a long moment, nothing moved, Lilly still lying on the prostrate kine, before she turned her face to Harry, a thin line on blood running down her chin. The wild look was still in her eyes, though receding as the blood worked it's way through her.

"I, I don't understand, what came over me? I killed that man. I didn't mean to you have to believe me!"

"Don't worry," Harry said soothingly, approaching her as one would a wounded animal "It's not your fault. The beast took over."

"Beast?" Lilly asked, her voice edging towards hysterical "What beast?"

"The beast resides in all of us," Harry said, carefully kneeling down in front of Lilly "The beast is the thing inside us which is our darkest instincts. It calls us to feed and kill. Those who give in to it become nothing more than wild beasts. We keep it in check by resisting the urge to kill the innocent, and by keeping well fed. When we do not do these things, when out blood is low, when our lives are in desperate danger, it takes over and..." Harry shrugged, carefully helping Lilly to her feet.

"Oh," Lilly answered weakly, accepting Harry's help "I didn't know that. My sire didn't tell me."

Harry griminced at that "What can you tell me of thin bloods?" He asked changing the subject.

"My sire, Rolf told me that sometimes when a childe is sired, something goes wrong, and the childe for some reason is weaker. They can not wield the powers of their clan, and do not show the strengths and weaknesses the clan has." Lilly said, giving the explanation calming her, "Some thinbloods are even able to eat food - and Rolf said that some can even walk in daylight. Rolf told me that thin bloods are seen as bad luck - a sign on Gehenna."

"What's Gehenna?" Harry asked.

"Gehenna is a vampire prophecy which predicts the end of the world. From what I was told, the ancient vampires who sired the clans are still around somewhere, but asleep. When Gehenna comes, they will wake up, and consume everything, Kine, and Kindred alike." Lilly shrugged helplessly before returning to her story "Rolf... Rolf abandoned me when he realised that i was a thin blood. He said that I would bring shame and bad luck to him and his clan."

"I see," Harry answered guardedly.

Lilly sighed, looking around with a hapless expression on her face "Thank you for saving me," She said, a bittersweet smile on her face, "I guess I should leave town..."

"Wait," Harry interrupted quickly "You should see E."

"You know E?" She asked, her face brightening for a second before despair replaced it "E hates me... doesn't he?"

"E loves you," Harry said "He asked me to find you."

Lilly's face lit up with a bright smile "Really? E Doesn't hate me anymore? Thank you so much!" she half laughed half cried, before giving Harry an impulsive hug. "I won't forget this!"

Harry's smile took a long time to leave, and a feeling of warmth nothing to do with blood sat in his chest throughout the rest of the night.