My Life As A Shadow

It was Rachel who brought me into the Danse Macabre. I stayed with her at the headquarters permanently, leaving with her to see the city with new eyes. I learned what we were, Mekhet, the true monsters in the darkness. But there was more to vampires than blood and coffins, she said, and there was more to the night than monsters.

It had all been approved by the Prince, whom I met briefly at an informal introduction. After that, I rarely left Rachel's side, learning more about my new nature, and what it meant to be a Shadow. My creation had also been approved by the Circle of the Crone, our Sire's Covenant, which expected pride in me and my abilities. The Circle became my school, the way I learned to see the world as a "demon". And I ate its teachings furiously, needing to fill the void of spirit that came with my Embrace. I couldn't fathom God, now. What God would fashion such beings?

Time passed. At night, I stalked the streets for lost ones, still maintaining my community service. There wasn't much change, and I was told that Rico was one of my Sire's thralls, dedicated whole-heartedly to my master's cause. Though Rico believed he was doing the Lord's work, I knew the truth. And as a year passed, then another, and I continued drawing more homeless runaways and teenage junkies, I began to notice the hollow tone I delivered my messages in. I was talking about God, but there was no meaning left. I knew what I was. I knew that each night, the first thing on my mind was delivering my Kiss to heedless strangers, trading their blood for the brief revelry of my bite. And that made me an animal.

At first, the teachings of the Crone were enough. I patiently studied all that Rachel gave me, and listened intently to the wisdom of other Circle members. I practiced what I could, memorizing the Traditions and following covenant code while Rachel handled me as a mentor would a student. That was all we ever were, with no affection or true care for one another. Was I grateful for her gift? I would refuse to ask myself that, knowing that it was no use looking into the past.

I was helping Street Sweep expand, teaching others to reach out and build a network. That's when I truly realized my unnatural possibilities. I was able to command others, to reach inside of them and ease the darkness that held them back. Street Sweep went from being a small charity group to a professional organization, branching out farther into the city. And I entered into territory wars grudgingly, doing what Rachel instructed even when it meant dancing with the enemy and stepping on his toes. I may have ruffled feathers, but I smoothed them back when I could, delivering promises without consulting Rachel. It would prove to be the corruption of our relationship.

Either I was meant to be a Mekhet, or the Blood was meant to become me, but I took to the Curse smoothly. But one thing plagued me: what would come next? There were so many possibilities and theories floating about, and as my nightly fight to cultivate a culture on the streets I wrestled with my own frightening questions. What had I become? Where was I heading? Work with Street Sweep didn't mean the same to me anymore. I needed more than the hopeless faceless in the dark, or the bitter masks that looked back at me during Circle gatherings. I tried to maintain mortal ties, but most people shied away from my new aura of the undead was unsettling for most, and it took me time to perfect the Masquerade. Eventually, I was venturing out alone, while Rachel tended to private affairs and Rico indulged his spiritual hunger with moonlight sermons.

For a dozen years, I spent the nights learning about the Shadows while listening with little ambition to elder politics. Rachel was a prime tutor, though frustrated easily, and I spent most of the time before dawn practicing my abilities alone.

My Sire stayed in contact through phone calls or emails to Street Sweep's office. He encouraged my studies in Kindred and human nature, telling me to explore the questions I had. He warned me to be prepared for the time when I was without Rachel's constant watch, eluding that it may come soon. I never believed I would be without her.

We were a competitive pair, and within the city were known as rebellious philosophers. The others in our clan found us exciting and driven, which replaced my need for affection. But while I fanatically herded the street culture into the diabolic-ruled sanctuary of our headquarters, I was still plagued by the enigma of what I truly was, and where had it all started. Street Sweep kept growing, until there was more than Rachel and I could handle. It seemed the city was spawning more indigent by the day, and our territory was brimming with needs.

I wish I had seen it then, but when it came it was too late...

What Dreams May Come...