• Death... the scent follows her into the room... it fills the air around her as she skipps over to James, my guitarist. The cancer that is eating her brain... that's what caused the smell. And I'll wager anything she doesn't even know it yet. But I do... it's going to kill her... unless James gets to her first. Why the hell does he always choose chicks with unknown cancers for meals? Is he perhaps trying to save them the agony that would come in a few years? Or, does he just prefer the taste? Damn Malkavians. Can't understand a thing they do. If he weren't so damned good at what he does... but that's neither here nor there... where was I?

    Oh yes... the dying girl... Well, if that was what James was bringing for snacktime, I'm going to have to find something more suitable. "I'm going out for cigarettes."

    "Bring me back a soda," says Miri. I suppose she could use one. As the only human in the band, she has a bit of trouble keeping up with us. But she's the best drummer in the city at the moment. Perhaps when she gets a bit older, we'll make her one of us. In the meantime, she does her best, beating away at her drums with sweat pouring down her face. "What kind?"

    "Doesn't matter... surprise me."

    So off I go, weaving through the throng of groupies pawing at me, screaming for autographs... or, sometimes, more... unsavory things. It's the same everywhere we go. And it's starting to get old. One of these days, I'm going to leave... settle down somewhere... take a break for Cain's sake. I think I deserve one.

    Finally, I make my way outside. The night air blows cool on my face... but doesn't affect me much... my skin's already rather cold. I'm surprised that no one noticed today that I hadn't fed yet. Usually James or Mikhail is all over me about not eating before shows. How on earth am I supposed to find the time? Most of our shows start right after sunset. And I'm not about to try Mikhail's "cherry cola" again. Cold blood is the worst. I grimace at the thought of it.

    I wander down the street for a while, letting my senses come to order, when I catch the faintest hint of a delicious treat. Ahh... cocaine always makes a girl smell good. I don't know why. I follow the scent back to a rundown house about two blocks away. When I come to the door, I allow myself to become someone else... someone she'll know... someone she'll trust. I knock lightly.

    She comes to the door, eyes slightly glazed. "Tim?" she asks.

    "Hi, hon. What's going on?"

    "Oh... Tim... Hi... the party's just starting..."

    "Party?"




    .... to be continued.... maybe.... if I feel like it...