The Sanctioning

Maiden, Mother, Crone.

Rico had been talking about me to Rachel Duvaine, the head of Street Sweep. I figured she was a social worker, or a Peace Corps reject who got gratification from helping the less fortunate. Boy, was I wrong. Instead, Rachel was the perfect image of a bleeding-heart philanthropist, working to bring people out of the blackness they survive in. Her office was underground, a renovated basement really, covered with abstract photographs and social reform posters complete with mottos like "Would you let your child go hungry? Stop and pay attention." It smelled like stale incense and clove cigarettes, and Rico led me through a maze of boxes and file cabinets brimming with newspapers, magazines, and professional journals that heralded the sad state of humanity.

She sat at a large desk, littered with stacks of forms, bills, and more newspapers. She was chewing on the end of her lit clove, reading an article in Times. Rico cleared his throat before entering the dimly-lit space of the basement, and then left me.

She set the magazine down and removed the clove. "I'm Rachel," she smiled. "And you must be Dusk. Tell me, how did you acquire such a... tasteful name?"

"My mother, she was... free-spirited," I managed to croak out. She was beautiful, in a traditional goth way, with dark locks spilling over a black tee proclaiming, "Free Speech Only Matters To Those Who Can't Eat". Her eyes were literally ripping at me, trying to discover the layers I had within me. I wasn't uncomfortable, really...more anxious to see who she was, and know why I was brought here.

"I can appreciate that," She said, almost sadly. "Dusk, do you know why I operate Street Sweep?"

I shook my head, shifting weight from one leg to another. There was no where else to sit, only more boxes piled on top of a stained futon and a few office chairs.

"Street Sweep started years and years ago by a man just like yourself." She leaned back, crossing her legs underneath her split peasant skirt. "A man who couldn't shake the trials of society, yet wasn't hindered by them. A man who knew there was more for anyone who could take it-- only sometimes, people need a hand. The world has forgotten its sense of community, and Street Sweep is here to remind everyone that we are all here together. Street Sweep helps those people meant for great lives who have fallen behind, left in the cracks of humanity because of misfortune. We try to teach people that by building a strong foundation with each other, we can all attain a higher state of existing."

I nodded. "God's charity, like Rico says."

"More than that, but yes, God does grant us charity in order to accomplish many things. What we preach on the street is about more than the Bible or salvation..."

But I just couldn't pay attention. I felt hazy, almost drunk listening to her. It was hard to focus, like the outside lines of her form kept going fuzzy. And her voice was so thick with passion and force. I don't know how long I stood there as she went on and on about Street Sweeps inner principles, and what I could do if I helped further the goals she hoped for.

"Dusk." She was standing beside me now, looking down at me with those old, peeling eyes. "You've been dealt horrible blows by life. And yet, you've gone though it, even reaching out to those around you to rise them up from the obscurity of their anguish and misery. You've brought many people to the shelter of our doors, always going back into the night to find more victims that need rescuing." Her hand was on me now, pressing on my shoulder. I was trapped by her presence. "We need more like you, to challenge the dark. To bring back hope and purpose to humanity."

"But, I'm not...I mean, I just... help."

She nodded. "And now someone else is going to help you. Street Sweep is more than an outreach program, Dusk. Beyond this building lies another side to all of this. You've been chosen to see that side, if you want to." She helped me to my feet, my knees shaking. "You have a gift of dark compassion. I can show you how to use that gift, and to gain others. And there is so much you could teach us, so much you can offer... But what I offer you- what my Sire offers you- is once in a lifetime. No turning back. It means death. I think you're ready for that death, and a more suited rebirth. What do you think?"

I didn't think anything. I couldn't, I was so afraid. There's was truth in her voice, a truth I had always been searching for but wasn't ready to know. And at that moment, I still wasn't ready. Because I wanted to run from her and that room under the earth, I wanted to keep running until the sun was over the horizon and the night wasn't touching me anymore. I didn't want her to be speaking, or to be touching my elbow, or breathing my air. I wanted the safety of the ground above, of the sanctuary I'd come to love and the God I'd come to accept, if slowly and indirectly.

She was waiting for an answer. I shut my eyes, throwing all of myself into blackness.

"Show me," I whispered.

I never saw my Sire. From behind, strong arms wrapped tight around me, freezing my heart. And then the smell of death on cold, icy breath, as a jaw opened wide and struck my throat. When my eyes flashed open again from surprise, Rachel was standing serenely in front of me, praying or chanting with a frenzied smile. I saw things from a hundred other eyes, and for the first time felt the shadows as though they had substance. I felt the life going, I knew it in almost a matter-of-fact manner, but was held so tightly I didn't even think of struggling. Maybe I truly didn't care. For once, something was happening to me that I couldn't stop...and I was loving it. The wave of pain and astonishment was soon flooded by ecstasy and pleasure beyond belief. Until I felt my heart fighting within my chest, and I was snapped out of my trance.

I screamed something, I'm not sure what. Maybe I called to God, or my mother. Maybe I cried out to Rachel, for help. But it was all I could do.

Then next conscious moment I had, I was drinking. Warm, twisting, gnashing blood straining with life filled my mind. Rachel's, and my Sire's, both invading my flesh.

And then the agony of death. There is nothing that can describe it.

When it was over, I was cradled in Rachel's arms, the final shudders of my death fading away as the Blood ended the attack. I had life, just enough now to make it through the final phase. And as my body let the shadows reshape me, Rachel spoke of the beginning, when the Mother walked beside our masters and granted power freely, the time before the Church of Man came and sent her children into the night.

And as dawn came, Rachel covered me in the comfort of her haven, dreaming with me. It was done, and my Sire anonymous, and Rachel was all I had.

I was a Vampire.