FicWad

Hi all, I'm back! Wow, this chap has blown out far longer than I'd anticipated. Over eight- thousand-fucking-words. Damn I'm tired. In any case, here it is. The quote from the start of this chapter is actually from wikipedia. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. They really do have everything.

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...Since they moved from an isolated band of Mages into an acknowledged, mysterious and powerful Clan of Kindred in the space of less than a Thousand years,
and since they had created unknowable and powerful new Disciplines (as well as for other, darker reasons), the Tremere are generally mistrusted, and are frequently referred to with the sobriquet, "Usurpers."
- On Clan Tremere
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Harry looked up with a sigh. Despite the fact that it was now Sunday night, the line in front of the Asylum was no shorter than the night before. In fact, it seemed to have grown. Harry shrugged, mentally resigned to waiting, but as he turned to walk to the end, the bouncer called him over and waved him through. Harry walked in, perplexed 'well, no need to look a gift horse in the mouth,' he thought ignoring the angry stares of the others, as he passed into the club.

"Ohh, what do we have here? Another scrumptious young plaything straight out of life and into my club?" Harry started and spun to see a figure straight from his dreams; and with no active will of his own felt his jaw drop. If sex could be personified, it would be the vision in front of him. She was dressed in a small blouse which emphasized the size of her bust and a small 'catholic schoolgirl' skirt with fishnet stockings. Her black Goth makeup only enhanced the ensemble. She watched him with a playful smirk on her lips, but a dangerous glint in her eye made him think that there was much more to this girl than meets the eye. "You smell new little boy, like fabric softener on freshly mown Astroturf. Oh, I'm not frightening you am I duckling?" Her voice purred, as she swayed uncomfortably close to him. Harry jumped slightly, forcibly lifting his gaze to her eyes, and failed to speak. She smiled, allowing Harry to see her fangs, before spinning in a graceful pirouette, "Like what you see, sweetie?" She asked teasingly, as Harry flushed.

"Wh, who are you?" Harry stuttered on a dry throat.

The woman laughed, her amusement clear before leaning forward, capturing Harry's attention as though he was facing a legion of veela "I'm the finger down your spine when all the lights are out." She purred, her low voice sending a shiver down his spine, "I'm the name on all the men's room walls." If Harry could think clearly he would have been happily surprised that some body functions obviously still worked. At the moment all the stolen blood in his body had rushed to one particular section. The woman smiled as though sensing his lust "When I pout, the whole world wants to make me smile." She said pouting; indeed Harry would have offered his life at that moment. "...And everyone wants to know; who, is, that, girl."

Jeanette leaned back an amused look on her face, as Harry attempted to break the fog the surrounded him "And, er, 'who is that girl?" Harry asked finally.

"I, am, Jeanette!" She said with a graceful movement, that somehow broke the spell "And this bit of chaos crammed into a certifiable giggle is my club" She smiled gesturing around. "I'd love to stay and chat, duckling but I'm afraid I have business to attend to. I'm sure our paths will cross again." She smiled and walked away. Harry stood frozen, unable to do much but watch the sway of her hips until she moved out of sight. Harry snapped out of it with the shake of his head. That woman was dangerous. He didn't know if she had some Veela power, some kindred power, or possibly simply was that hot, but he could easily see how men could get themselves into great amounts of trouble over women.

Getting to the office of Therese had been easy - he had walked up to the bartender and said 'er, I need to talk with her.' and for some reason the bartender decided to cut him a break. He had ridden the private elevator up and stood awkwardly in the small room outside of her office, attempting not to listen to the loud argument the sisters were having. Finally, Jeanette stormed off, sobbing that the other voice - Therese, Harry guessed - treated her like a child. A door slammed. 'That's right, run away. I'll take care of things, as usual.' the unknown voice said contemptuously. Harry tentatively knocked on the office door, entering on the voice's 'Enter.'

The office was a strange room. To one side, was what Harry assumed was standard office fare, with a wooden desk, with a computer, and a bunch of folders and files on it. A high backed leather chair sat behind the desk, while three uncomfortable looking plastic chairs sat on the other side. The other half of the room contained a large heart shaped bed, and a dressing table covered in various items foreign to Harry - all of which seemed to give off overpowering scents. The room was split with a small divider down the middle - so the sleeping person had some privacy, Harry assumed. Even the decore was different, Harry realised - the office side having - to what Harry's limited artistic sense told him - elegant and artistic works statuettes and painting, while the bedroom having a far more erotic undertone. Harry assumed that the sisters must have each decorated a side - no points for guessing which Jeanette decorated, he thought with a mental grin - either that, or they were attempting to really separate work and pleasure even though confined to a single room. After his brief inspection, he turned his attention to the woman standing in the centre.

Therese Voorman was a beautiful woman, Harry saw at once, and one with great physical similarities to her sister. Where Jeanette was gothic and playfully seductive and her beauty a thing which had an almost physical impact, Therese was all business, with her hair tied back tightly, an expensive suit, and eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses. Her looks in fact were as restrained as Jeanettes were flaunted. She smiled as Harry approached, offering a hand which Harry automatically shook.

"Greetings, I am Therese Voorman, how can I help you?" She smiled.

"Hello," Harry smiled, "I actually have some business to discuss with you."

"Oh?" Therese questioned, "What would that be?"

"It's about Bertram Tung," Harry said. A scowl replaced Therese's smile at that, and Harry hurriedly continued "Why do you want to kill him?"

"I have no wish to kill him," Therese sighed with a snarl "Although I find him repulsive, and his influence on my sister is deplorable."

"Well, can you call off the feud then?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Why would I do that?" Therese asked rhetorically, "As long as he believes that I want him dead, the longer he keeps his plotting and influence out of my city." She stated, "That bloody Nosferatu."

"Well look," Harry said reasonably "I need to speak with him. Maybe if there's something I could do..." He trailed off.

"Hmm," Therese thought out loud. "There is indeed a task you could do for me." She nodded decisively, "There is a property I wish to develop the Ocean House Hotel. It was abandoned some time ago, and I have recently acquired the land. With some renovation, it can be reopened. Unfortunately however, the building is haunted by a meddlesome spirit, which has scared away all the workmen. They have refused to work on the site until the problem is resolved."

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise, "I didn't think ghosts were that much of a problem."

"They're not," Therese sniffed, "But the weak minded kine are superstitious. I need you to go to the hotel, and find a personal item of the ghost. As I understand, it can be used to exorcise it."

"Okay," Harry agreed immediately, the task sounding simple enough, "As long as you call of the feud with Tong."

"Oh, I fully intend to keep my side of the bargain," Therese smiled, "You will find that I always keep my word. Good luck."

With that dismissal, Harry turned to leave the office. "Oh," Therese called out as he reached the door, "There is one last thing..."

"Sewers," Harry muttered, trudging through the brown sludge, "For what possible reason would the only entrance to this place be through the sewers?" He asked darkly, ignoring the squishy feeling in his sneakers. 'Guess I'm gunna need new shoes,' he thought to himself, resigned. 'And pants. And feet.' Finally, he came to the gate Therese told him led inside the defunct construction site, and opened the rusty iron gate with the key she had provided. The gate swung open with a touch of kindred strength, the high pitched scrape of the door echoing through the sewer, the sound driving though Harry's brain. "Ahh!" he gasped, clutching his ears in agony, "This had all better be worth it!" He muttered, wearily climbing up the ladder.

The hotel was impressive, Harry admitted to himself. Even though it was clearly run down - several windows shattered, loose shutters banging in the wind, he could see the beauty the building once held. The building was lit up, though the lights did waver. At one point Harry was positive he saw a face look out at him, which sent a pang of terror through him for a second before he resolved himself. 'Don't be silly!' he scolded himself mentally, 'You've seen plenty of ghosts before. Hell, you're good friends with one!' walking towards the door, he jumped as the light bulb over the awning burst with a loud pop. Swallowing his nerves, he gently grasped the door handle. Locked. 'How am I supposed to get in?' he wondered to himself, before shaking his head at his own foolishness. 'Oh, that's right...' With that Harry drew back, and kicked the door in with a boom.

The inside of the building was as opulent as the outside - a double staircase running up to a balcony level, long corridors left and right to different rooms. Harry looked around with a shrug, and started to make his way to the stairway. A strange rattling caught his attention however, and he strained his ears, attempting to find it. 'What the bloody hell is that?' he wondered, on edge. 'It sounds like it's coming from...' Harry looked up, and immediately dove to the side, narrowly missing being crushed by the heavy chandelier. "Bloody hell!" Harry breathed, getting back to his feet. The chandelier frame was made of a heavy metal, and had several sharp points - including the central point which was a foot long and as sharp as a spear. It was currently embedded in the polished floor. Shrugging, Harry decided to be more careful, and made his way slowly up the stairs. Maybe there would be a clue there somewhere. All of a sudden, Harry's world turned upside down with a splintering crash. After several terrifying seconds of being tumbled through space, Harry's free fall came to a painful end on an unforgiving floor.

Harry sat up with a wince, and looked back up. Apparent the stairs had collapsed underneath him. Harry realised that from the hight he could see the stairs, a human would most likely not have survived such a fall. He also had a sneaking suspicion that it was not an accident. Harry stood up with a groan and looked around. This appeared to be a service area - concrete floors, bare walls, thin corridors, and naked light bulbs - which did not work It was dark down there - even for Harry, and the fear rose in his throat. Quickly, he located an 'exit' sign, and followed it to an elevator. Pressing the up button however gave no results - 'the power must be off' he realised. Swallowing nervously, he turned back towards the dark corridors, and made his slow way across.

At a cross roads ahead, a form flitted past. "Hey!" Harry yelled, running forward. Harry raced around the corner to see the figure - a girl - run into a room ahead, whimpering in terror. Harry quickly glanced behind him, but could see no followers. He followed the girl quickly, rounding into the room - and stopped dead. The room was empty. A small desk sat in the middle of the room, a newspaper on it. Harry walked to it cautiously, and picked it up "Severed head found in dryer in Ocean House!" The headline screamed. Harry shuddered in disgust, and dropped the paper back on the desk. 'She must have been a ghost,' Harry realised, 'perhaps even the person found...' Harry's head popped up as heavy footsteps from the corridor outside began.

They were drawing closer and presumably following the girl or - Harry realised with a start - him. He had a feeling deep in his stomach that he did not want to be here when the owner arrived. Harry cast about desperately for a way out of the small office, as the footsteps grew closer. Finally, as they drew to the door, half mad with terror, Harry charged blindly at a section of brick wall which seemed slightly loose - his body bursting through with the force of a wrecking ball. Harry scrambled out of the small room he found himself, desperately sprinting away down another corridor, hearing the footsteps recede in the distance. Harry stopped finally, with a sigh, slowly calming. While the run had not winded him - wind not being something needed by his body anymore - it took a while for his mind to calm from the unnatural terror which had gripped it.

'Get a grip,' he thought to himself firmly, 'I'm no bloody human, I'm the apex predator. I ain't afraid of no ghost.' He nodded firmly to himself, before a heavy squeal of rusted metal caught his attention. He looked up, paling as he realised that he was in a laundromat. In front of him, the heavy door of a dryer slowly swung open. Harry moved towards it, as though compelled, and slowly looked inside in sick anticipation. He sighed with relief, as rather than a head, the dryer held nothing more sinister than a set of keys. Harry picked them up, squinting at the tag in the low light. "Boiler room," He read with a frown, "Wait, wasn't there a door near the elevator that said boiler room?" He quickly made his way back to the elevator, determinedly ignoring the fearful cries of the ghost girl, and spotted the door.

"Aha!" He cried victoriously opening the door and entering the room. The boiler room was large, containing several large tanks - boilers Harry guessed, as well as a small caged off area labeled 'power'. Harry opened the cage, noticing the only thing inside being a small box mounted on the wall labeled switch box. Harry quickly opened the box, scanning the myriad of switches. All of the switches pointed to 'on' except for one switch labeled 'basement'. Harry flicked it with a shrug, and smiled as overhead lights immediately came on. He exited the room, noticing that the whole area was now bathed in light. Pressing the elevator button this time garnered an immediate response, and the doors swung open. Harry entered the elevator, and started as it immediately took off, before opening with a ding. Harry cautiously stepped out, realising immediately that he was back where he started - now standing on the balcony above the staircase which had collapsed. Shaking his head in frustration, Harry quickly examined the area.

The area he was standing in was a small landing, holding a couple of couches, coffee tables, and a grandfather clock. To his left and right were narrow walkways, both with visible doors into the building, and the railing to the other. Harry's attention was immediately caught by a glowing blue figure. Harry cautiously approached it, his hand on his gun, making out a woman. She was looking down, but as Harry approached, looked up with a sad look on her face, before turning to glance at a door,before she faded away. Harry walked past, entering the room she had looked at carefully. It was a bedroom, with a double bed, two side tables, and little else. Harry approached the bed, when all of a sudden, the doors slammed shut with a bang, and the lights all went out. Harry dived to the side in the darkness, slamming his back against the wall, and pulled out his revolver. Before he had time for any other reaction, the lights slowly came back on. To Harry's shock, a message over the bed had been written. 'Get out'.

"Sorry mate," Harry muttered with false bravado, as the smell of blood came to him, "Can't do that," As if in response, a drawer of a side table closest to him slipped open. Harry approached it carefully, before pulling out a key. "This is becoming strange" He muttered to himself darkly, before exiting the room. Harry walked back towards the landing, before the doors of a room he was about to pass flew open, and a small toy truck slid across the floor. Harry raised the gun again, peering around the corner. It was another bedroom, this one having toys haphazardly on the floor in a pile next to a few pages of drawing paper. Harry lifted the top page, examining the picture with a pang. It was drawn by a child of (presumably) his family holding hands. It showed, from right to left, a small boy, a small girl, a mother, and the father. What was disturbing about the picture though was their faces. Rather than the big smile usual to those types of pictures - that Harry could remember from kindergarten, all the figures but the father had scared faces. The father though... Harry dropped the picture, an uncomfortable shiver running down his spine. The father was drawn with thick angry black lines. His face had a demonically angry look, and flames surrounded him. Harry left the room, unnerved. Apparently, this was not an ordinary ghost. The glowing blue woman was back. This time she stood on the opposite wing. Harry again approached, and she again looked up at him, this time pointing towards a door, before fading away. Harry nodded grimly and approached the door, noticing without surprise that the key he had found fit perfectly. The room was bare - the only thing of note being a thick timber board on the ground. Harry kicked it sharply to reveal a hole in the floor - which led to a bar area. Harry dropped down lightly, noticing immediately another newspaper sitting on the table. This one proclaimed "Another slaying in bizarre Ocean Hotel murders!" The doors leading out of the room were all barred heavily; the only immediate exit Harry could see being the dumbwaiter - the two doors blocked by what seemed to be wreckage. Shrugging heavily, he climbed in.

The dumbwaiter lowered slowly, before stopping at a kitchen area. Harry clambered out, pausing as a fry pan fell to the floor. Harry walked over to it, to notice a charred diary. He picked it up cautiously, before flicking through the pages. While much of it was illegible, Harry was able to follow the story relatively well. Apparently a newly wed couple had come here on a honeymoon. However, throughout the stay, the husband had become obsessed with a locket she had. He had become increasingly paranoid that she was cheating - that the locket was from some secret lover. Her protests that it was a gift from her mother fell on deaf ears. The last entry was written moments before she had met with him - he had left a message to meet him. Harry shut his eyes in sorrow.

"Help me." A female voice whispered pleadingly. Harry nodded "I'll release you," He promised, his voice thick. He walked towards the door, but frowned however, as he was unable to open it. He frowned examining it - unlike the others he had forced, this was made of heavy metal and barred strongly. It would take some thought rather than brute strength to get through. He's coming!" The urgent whisper pulled Harry out of his musings, and he looked around frantically. Not good. There were two work benches in the middle of the room, with gas stove tops, and ringing the room were large steel cupboards - filled with all manner of sharp, heavy, or breakable things. This became apparent as a saucepan flew out without warning. Harry managed to duck under it, though caught a platy to the face. He stood up wincing, before his eyes widened, and he threw himself to the ground, avoiding a barrage of knives. The speed of things being tossed stepped up as Harry desperately attempted to defend himself, the gas stoves lit, providing yet another danger. Harry dodged around the room frantically, dodging a barrage of items. He managed to weave out of the way of a particularly large cast iron pan - which promptly embedded itself in a workstation wall, causing it to crumple. That gave him an idea, and he weaved through the room, until he stood in front of the door out. "Hey, you freak wanker!" Harry yelled "You're about as scary as a dog licking himself!" The ghost apparently took offense at that, as immediately an oven wrenched itself from the floor, and flew at him at high speed. Harry ducked out of the way, and sure enough, the oven smashed through the door without stopping. Harry quickly dived after it, as the rate of activity picked up furiously. The room was a small store room, with no other way out except a vent in the wall. Harry kicked it in and dived into it, crawling through the ducting. Only with seconds to space, Harry thought, as a large muffled thump shook the duct. Harry glanced back but couldn't see anything - he guessed the ghost must have got really angry that he had escaped.

"Be careful," he voice advised softly - something Harry could entirely agree with. The short duct opened up room Harry immediately discerned was an elevator shaft. As well as the shaft itself, there was a small indented area with a ladder - presumably for repairs, Harry guessed. Harry dropped through the duct into the shaft nimbly. A threatening rumbling from above gave him warning and he dove quickly into the ladder indent just in time as the elevator crashed down next to him.

"Bastard," Harry muttered, starting to get annoyed. He climbed up the ladder steadily, until finally making it to the top floor; the only one which was open. Exiting through, he found himself in a regular hallway, with hotel rooms all around. Only one room door was open, and he entered. Hoping that he'd finish the task, he searched the room. The only thing he found was a strange item; a piece or what appeared to be root tied with a red string. Holding it in his hand, Harry felt a strange sense of security running through him. He shrugged, and looped it over his neck, before leaving the room. Harry continued through the hallway, stepping around a corner and immediately getting bowled over by a heavy item. "Ow," Harry gasped, rubbing his chest. He had no idea what it was that hit him - it was shattered from the force of impact and lay on the ground - but it had hot him good. He continued through, the light bulbs all shattering as he passed by. He sped up as a low rumbling shook the floor. The activity grew as he continued - doors shattered and flew past him, various pieces of furniture threw themselves at him, but through it all, Harry gritted his teeth and continued on, feeling deep in his gut that he was almost there - wherever 'there' was. At the end of the hall, a sudden rumbling led to a collapse of the ceiling in front of him, preventing him from continuing.

Harry clenched his teeth in frustration, before walking into the room opposite. The room was heavily damaged from a fire - most of the ceeling and the outer wall were missing, making it easy for him to climb up to the next floor and make his way into the hallway above the one he had left. He continued down the hallway, carefully climbing over the collapsed rubble which had blocked his route below, until ethereal fire sprung up behind him. The wall alongside him had a pipe running along with the words 'steam' on it. Feeling that his goal was only past this last obsticle, Harry could guess what would happen, and gritted his teeth. He stood for a second, gathering his nerve, trying to harden himself against the pain which would come, when a strange sensation covered him. Harry looked down at his hands in shock to discover they were covered in blood! "What the crap!" Harry yelled, before realisation came to him. "Oh my god!" He whispered with a grin "A blood shield!"

Harry had spent the remainder of the previous night pouring over the book Straus had left him. While he found some of the theory rather dry - and most of it pretty incomprehensible - the information on Thaumaturgic spells was fascinating. Unfortunately, most of the spells listed required a living target for them to work - and were thus impossible to practice. The only one that did not, was the Blood Shield. The book listed it as a literal coat of blood which covered the caster and protected him from damage. How much protection gleaned depended on several factors - such as how effective the spell was cast, and how much blood was used. Harry had become more and more frustrated as time worn on and he remained unsuccessful in casting it. The most success he had was brief moment of triumph as blood covered his hand - however this was tempered when he realised that he had not cast a partial blood shield - he had simply dug his sharp nails so deep into his own palms that he had cut them open, and blood had flowed out, covering his hand. He had eventually given up in disgust and gone to sleep. Now it appeared that the shield had worked. Harry examined what he could see of the shield critically. It was in no means a strong shield - here and there he could see thinner areas and the occasional gap - but it was a first casting, and would no doubt get easier with time.

Emboldened by his successful thautamurgy, Harry took off running. The first bolt blew, and slammed into the bloodshield with very little effect. The boiling steam gave a brief second of pain, before he was through. The second slammed into the blood shield as well, and again dropped with no damage. The steam however made it through the small break in the shield, burning Harry';s skin. The third bolt slammed through the weakened blood shield, and, from what it felt, cracked a rib. The steam Harry ran through felt like it was cooking him. The final bolt hit the exact same place, causing Harry to grunt and stumble face first into the steam. Harry screamed as the boiling steam burned his face, before he managed to fall forwards out of it, and crawl forwards.

He lay, in tremendous pain, resting for a second as his battered body slowly started to heal. Harry grasped a banister, and painfully pulled himself upright, and staggered through the final doorway. He stopped in shock. The room was destroyed. Indeed, there wasn't even any floor left; after a few paces, the floor dropped away into a gaping burnt hole to show a pile of rubble on the lower floor. "What now?" Harry asked in frustration, taking a step forward. Suddenly the world changed.

Harry was in a room that was clean and whole. It was a luxurious sweet from the looks of it. A small fire burnt quietly in a fireplace. A queen side bed lay against the wall across the room, elegant covers on it. Looking around suspiciously, Harry made his way carefully to the bed. On it, a simple locket sat on the middle of the covers. Harry reached out tentatively and grabbed it. The world changed back. Harry looked around in surprise.

He was now on the opposite side of the burnt out room - on a small piece of floor which had not been destroyed - with no possible way he could see that he could have got there. Shrugging, Harry leapt down painfully to the lower floor, and made his way to the door. Outside the elevator doors opened - through the elevator was on the ground. Harry swung himself carefully out to the ladder, and exited on the lower floor - which brought him back out to the main balcony. Harry leapt over the railing to the floor below, and made his way to the door. He hesitated, instincts telling him to look around, and slowly turned to look back at the glowing women who appeared, a hopeful look on her face. She smiled gratefully at Harry, raising a single arm in salute, before fading slowly. Harry smiled back, before hurriedly leaving as the walls began to rattle threateningly.

Harry squelched his way into his apartment, ripping his soaked shoes off with a grimance and tossed them into the bathroom sink. They stank, as did the rest of him. "Ack," He muttered in disgust as a piece of... something plopped off his shoes and slowly oozed towards the drain. He quickly coated the shoes in a liberal coat of shampoo from the shower, and set the tap on, before stripping off for a quick shower. The hot water was heavenly against his skin, the tenseness of his muscles from the tension of the mansion unwinding. "That's better" He smiled, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. Far more relaxed, he plopped down on his crappy bed and switched on the tv absently.

"... And in international news, more strange occurrences in Britain as another family is found dead, with no signs of trauma or other cause of death."

Harry snapped around as the reporter continued on blithely.

"At a recent press conference, chief inspector Robberts of the London police service said that while the deaths were unusual, no evidence of foul play has been found at that juncture. In other news, the Elizabeth Dane, a cargo ship, has been found abandoned by fishermen in what was, quote, 'suspicious circumstances...'"

Harry flicked the TV off with a sigh. Looks like the war was heating up, if the ministry had failed to cover up deaths. He nodded grimly, flexing his fingers. Well, at least he'd be ready for them when he got back to England. Yeah, Harry thought in anticipation, wait till they see me now.

His thoughts were broken by a sharp hooting. Harry swung around, just in time to duck a white blur, which landed gracefully on top of the TV.

"Hedwig!" Harry smiled in delight. He hadn't seen his friend in some time.

"hoot!" Hedwig replied, clicking her beak sharply.

"Er, what do you mean what happened to me?" Harry asked feebly, stalling for time.

Hedwig hopped to the edge of the TV and stared carefully at Harry, who put his hands quickly behind him, and closed his mouth with a guilty snap.

"Hoot," She said,

"Pale? No it's just cold," He said defensively,

"Hoot hoot?"

"Teeth? My teeth haven't got big and sharp." Harry said, not moving his lips.

Hedwig leveled a stare at him for a moment. "Hoot, hoot."

"Vampire?" Harry asked attempting to feign surprise - badly - "What gave you that idea?"

Hedwig rolled her eyes before silently pointing with a wing. Harry turned to see his wand left on the floor neglected, dust on it.

"Ah," Harry said in resignation, "Well, it's true." He sighed, before looking up at the owl with careful nonchalance "But you don't care... right?"

If Hedwig could sigh, she would have, before silently jumping from the TV and gliding quickly to his shoulder.

"Hoot hoot," She replied comfortingly, rubbing her head against his.

"Thanks girl," He said, blinking quickly as his eyes suddenly felt rather hot and prickly, "it means a lot that..." He trailed off self consciously, before clearing his throat.

"Er, how did you know that kindred can't use wands anyway?" He asked, absentmindedly petting the snowy owl.

"Hoot, hoot-hoot!"

"What do you mean everyone knows vampire's can't use magic? I didn't know that," Harry protested.

"Hooot, hoot?" Hedwig asked tolerantly,

"Well, no." Harry answered "we didn't learn about vampires - remember? Snape had us do werewolves instead."

"Hoot," Hedwig revealed.

"Oh, that makes sense." Harry allowed, before turning to face his avian friend curiously "But why did you read up on them?"

Hedwig hooted again, with a defensive tone.

"Well no, you know I don't mind if you read," Harry said quickly, "It's just, I thought you hated defence books. What about your philosophy books you're so fond of? What's his name? Descartes or something?"

Hedwig shuffled slightly on his shoulder, before giving a slightly embarrassed hoot.

"A change of pace?" Harry repeated, baffled "but you've never enjoyed defence before. Why would you..." Harry trailed off in realization. "Oh," Harry said, not knowing quite what to say. He settled for stroking the snowy feathers gently, and rubbing his own cheek against the owl in a kind of shoulder hug. Hedwig closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the attention for a few companionable minutes, before snapping out of it, with a questioning hoot.

"Oh," Harry said with a toothy grin, "I didn't tell you how it happened did I? Well it all started in a bar..." Harry proceeded to relay the entire story, finding it come easy with a friendly audience that made sympathetic noises at the right times. It was very cathartic in a way, to finally vent all his pent up worries, and by the end he was physically drained, though perhaps feeling somewhat better about himself. "... And then I came back here." He finished with a sigh.

Hedwig stayed silent for a second, before giving a questioning hoot,

"The locket? Here." Harry said, presenting the locket to the owl. Hedwig examined it closely, cocking her head this way and than, before dismissing it with a disdainful click of her beak. "I know," He grinned "Not much to look at, but apparently very important to some." He sighed for a second, remembering the poor girl, before returning the locket to his pocket. "So," He said brightly, forcing the memory out of his head "What have you got for me?"

Hedwig hooted wryly, before picking up a letter he hadn't noticed off the bed with her beak and presented it to him.

"Oh," He said grimly "A letter from our good friend Dumbledore." He sighed, before opening it, and reading it quickly. "Dear Harry, bla bla bla, still no solution for your problems, bla bla bla, everything fine here, bla bla bla, hope you have thought about what you did, bla bla bla, am sending Snape to help you, bla bla... What?" Harry blurt out in unpleasant surprise, which quickly turned to anger "He's sending that git here? Why?" He asked angrily scanning the letter, ignoring Hedwig's amused hoot. "Lets see," He muttered to himself "... 'Can't cure you, however Professor Snape can make a potion to help, and will be a good chance to practice Oculamancy'? What the hell is that old codger smoking? 'Be on your best behaviour, he'll be there in five days, treat Professor Snape with all due respect,' ha! 'he's going to a lot of trouble for you...' What the fuck is this?" Harry snarled tossing the letter angrily. "If that bastard thinks I'm going to listen to that git, Snape, then he's a..." Harry trailed off furiously, unable to think of a word,

"Hoot," Hedwig offered obligingly.

"Exactly!" Harry said victoriously "Then he's a... Hedwig! Where did you learn that kind of language?" Harry asked, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle a giggle in his throat.

"Hoot, hoot." Hedwig said, lifting her nose in the air snobily.

Losing the battle, Harry laughed, sitting down heavily on the bed, bad mood forgotten, "Ah well," He grinned, "I guess I should pay more attention to your philosophy books." Snape would only be a problem when he got here, Harry figured with a rueful sigh, and if everything went right he'd be back in London before the potions master arrived on American soil.

Harry spent another hour waiting for his shoes to soak in the sink in comfortable companionship with his owl. Finally, washing his shoes and putting them back on, he bid the raptor farewell, and made his way back to the Asylum.

"Hello kitten! Did you miss me? I missed you." Jeanette smiled invitingly.

Despite himself Harry smiled back, "Hi Jeanette, yes I did miss you."

"Oh, you're a sweetie!" Jeanette beamed, skipping towards him, "Do I pogo stick through your dreams wearing nothing but a smile?"

"I-er-that is..." Harry stuttered, face going red if it was able.

Jeanette laughed delightedly "Oh, you're such an innocent little kitten."

"Well, what do I do in yours?" Harry asked, desperately attempting to regain momentum.

"Why, what all good kittens do," Jeanette answered with a cute giggle, "You curl up in my lap and purrrrrrr," She stretched sinuously, causing interesting things to happen to Harry.

"Erm," Harry said, desperately wanting to change the subject, "Is Therese around?"

"Oh, that's right," Jeanette said lazily, "She said you'd stop by with something from that nasty old hotel. I'll give it to her as soon as she's back."

"Actually," Harry said carefully, somewhat suspicious of the gleam in her eye "I have to give it to her personally," He shrugged apologetically.

Jeanette's lip trembled as a hurt look crossed her face, "I'm not just some silly doll, you know. I have feelings," she said.

"I know Jeanette, it's not personal, it's just..."

"I'm not some brainless pretty face. I do a lot for this club. Therese is always belittling me,"

"Jeanette..."

"Do you know what it's like to be made to feel like nothing by your own flesh and blood?" She said, near tears.

Harry jerked, that hitting a little close to home, and feeling like a heel, tentatively patted Jeanette on the shoulder, 'to hell with it' he thought 'I'm being a complete asshole. Jeanette is a good person.'

"I..." He started, before noticing the gleam still in her eye. "I'm sorry," He sighed painfully, changing his mind on the fly. "But I can't give it to you. Please understand..."

"Fine," Jeanette said, dropping the act immediately. Harry watched with awe as the near tears vampire became her cheerful self again. "Keep the silly thing." She bounced over to a set of drawers, opening them up and taking something out. "There is one thing you could do for me though,"

"What's that?" Harry asked, interested despite himself.

"There's a new art exhibit opening a few blocks away at 'Gallery Noir'. I need you to go there and slash the paintings." she giggled, handing him a knife. He took it automatically, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Oh, and there's a bit of money there as well, for charity or something boring, buy yourself a nice new pair of shoes," She suggested wrinkling her nose at his sneakers that, while relatively clean, had retained the colour of the sewer.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but sighed in resignation at her hopeful face.

"Fine," he sighed.

"Excellent," Jeanette smiled happily, "I'm sure that by the time you get back, Therese will be here and you can give her that silly locket."

"I'll see you later," Harry turned to leave with a wry grin, knowing when he was beaten.

"Ta ta!" Jeanette smiled, before a vaguely thoughtful look came over her face, "There was something about the paintings through... Oh well, I'm sure it's not important."

Harry found the gallery easily - it was actually very close to the entrance to the beach where he had been before. He stared at the door in thought. 'Can't bust the door down with everyone watching,' He thought, 'don't know how to pick a lock...'

"Ah, sorry chief, you're going to have to move along." Harry was pulled out of his thoughts, to see a heavy set, balding security guard.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, "I'm just, ah..."

"Look chief," The amiable guy said, "I don't mind you handing around, but i got to protect and serve."

"... Of course," Harry said, a fake smile on his face, thoughts whirling furiously, most centered on the keyring hanging from the guards belt "Er, what's it like being a security guard?"

"Well, it's like, security guards like me keep the peace don't they?" the guard - 'Chunk' Harry read with slight disbelief on his name tag - brightened up "I mean sure, police do their part, but we're the real front line in the war on terror. I actually tried to become a cop once..." The man continued.

Harry watched in disbelief as the cheerful guard continued on, and on, and on. His attempts to join the force. His job as a football stadium security guard. His short lived acting career. Harry's patiences wore thinner and thinner, as it became harder to concentrate as Chunk's voice became more and more grating. 'Would you shut the hell up and give me the keys!' Harry thought furiously. Much to his surprise, Chunk immediately shut his mouth, and wordlessly handed over the keys. Harry accepted them, numbly watching as Chunk turned around and returned to his post. Not questioning his good fortune, he made his way quickly to the door, and slopped inside.

There were only four paintings on display, all facing inwards. Harry pulled out he knife Jeanette gave him, and walked over the to first painting. It was entitled 'Cain slays Abel.' The second followed entitled 'God condemns Cain.' The third: 'Cain meets Lilith.' and the final 'Cain slays Lilith'.

The story of the paintings was the story of the first vampire, Harry realised with a start. However, a deal was a deal, and starting from the first, he quickly slashed them. The paintings were obviously defended by a greater force that one inept security guard however, as a wave of red washed over each of the defiled paintings, consolidation in the middle of the room as a red figure. Harry whipped out his gun quickly, before he hesitated. The walls weren't that thick, and he didn't want to start firing off rounds so close to the street. The momentary hesitation cost him and the figure ran in, slashing Harry with its claws. Harry recoiled in pain, dropping the revolved. He quickly dodged another blow, before calling up his blood shield, which responded more quickly this time. He took a second glancing blow while hurriedly casing, and responded quickly by whipping out his tyre iron and bringing it down on the figures head. It hissed in response, hurt, and continued the attack. Harry desperately continued to battle; only keeping up due to the tyre iron and the blood shield. The blood shield finally failed, and Harry backpedaled attempting to gain some room.

The creature snarled, sensing weakness, and attack furiously. Harry desperately lifted his left hand face out - and smiled as a blood strike slammed into the beast. His smile faltered as the creature barely stumbled, before continuing its charge. Desperately, he drooped the iron, and lifted his right hand, firing blood strike after blood strike. Each slammed into the beast slowing it, until, after the fifth strike it finally crumpled. Only a small bit of blood returned to him as the withered hust of the beats struck the ground and disappeared into dust. 'That's right,' harry remembered exhaustedly, 'very little blood returns from a creature under final death.' With the stolen blood speeding up his healing process, slight as it was, Harry quickly walked to the desk in the corner, emptied the till, and casually left the building.

"You!" Therese hissed as Harry walked through the door,

"Me," Harry agreed warily.

"I can't believe that you would dare!"

"Dare what?" Harry protested "I didn't..."

"The art gallery! Did you think I wouldn't find out!" Therese snarled.

"What?" Harry asked bewildered, "Jeanette said..."

" I know what she said! Always working against me.." Therese muttered furiously, her hair flying lose as she shook her head in anger.

"Look, here," Harry said tentatively, hanging over the locket "It's from the hotel." Therese yanked it out of his hands angrily, before tossing it carelessly on her bed.

"It doesn't matter." She said, her voice calming "You owe me,"

""How," Harry protested, "You asked me to get the locket and I did..."

"You also destroyed several million dollars worth of art I was presenting," Therese hissed angrily, "Look, all I want you to do is met Jeanette. I got angry with her when I heard what she got you to do, and said some things I didn't mean... I threatened her. She left. She said she'd meet in the diner across the street. I want you to tell her I didn't mean what i said. She infuriates me... but she is my sister."

"Fin," Harry sighed, "I'll go talk to her."

"Good," Therese nodded with a tight smile, "Do that and I'll call off the feud with Tung."

"Harry swung open the door to the diner and stepped in. The old lady from the day before was gone - must be off shift, Harry reasoned - and the only customers were a group of suspicious guys standing in a group. Harry avoided them, and walked to the opposite side of the diner and sat down. Jeanette wasn't there, but Harry figured that it would take her longer to get here that it did him. After all, he thought, I only had to cross the street. Who knows where Jeanette scampered off too. As he sat, he noticed that the group of blokes seemed to be watching him, and hissing to each other in low tones. His suspicions rising, Harry casually dropped his right hand under the table, and carefully pulled his revolver from his belt, holding it under the table. He kept his head down, watching surreptitiously from the corner of his eye as the group made their way over to him.

"You Harry?" The leader asked roughly. Harry looked up. Humans he thought wryly.

"Yes," He replied simply. The leader nodded, and as one. The group pulled out a variety of guns. Harry however had the advantage of both kindred reflexes and having his gun already drawn, and managed to beat them the to punch. He brought his revolver up quickly, blasting the leader and a second thug in the face with a single shot each, hitting a third in the upper chest, before he was finally hit by the fourth.

The larger caliber nine millimeter hurt more that the stings of the 38, causing Harry's next shot to swing slightly, only hitting the finally thug's arm. The thug moaned in pain and attempted to level his pistol again. Harry leveled his gun first and used the final shot to put a bullet through the thug's eye. Harry stood, smoke wafting gently from his revolver, as the clerk stood petrified. Harry quickly scooped up a couple of the unfired pistols, before glancing up the clerk. "Don't worry" He said attempting a reassuring smile. Judging from the terrified look on the clerks face it didn't work. Harry sighed glancing around the room. Luckily there were no other patrons, and appeared to be no cameras. The only witness was the clerk. Harry leapt across the counter and bit into the clerks neck with a snarl. After a few mouthfuls of blood - enough to heal the wounds he had sustained and erase the clerks memory - Harry let him go, and hopped back across the counter. As he turned to leave, the phone rang.

"Hello?" Harry asked.

"Harry, please help me!" the familiar voice of Jeanette pleaded "It's Therese! She's gone crazy!"

"What's going on?" He asked harshly,

"She sent you there..." There was a struggle for the phone.

"I'm sorry it had to end this way," the cool tone of Therese said "I really had high hopes for you, but unfortunately Jeanette's wickedness had infected you."

"Please save me!" Jeanette yelled as the phone was hung up.

Harry sighed and hurriedly left the diner. The clerk was starting to come out of his dreamy stare, and police sirens could be heard in the distance. If it had been up to him, he would have simply left the crazys across the street - but unfortunately, he still needed the feud called off. And besides, he really did have a soft spot for the unpredictable Jeanette, despite the problems she had caused. 'If not one way, then perhaps another,' Harry grimly thought, 'If Therese double crossed me, well, I'm sure the feud will end with her final death.' With that in mind, he reloaded his revolver, checked the magazines of the two pistols - both full - stuffed the guns in the waistband of his jeans, and entered the Asylum.