Path of the Vampire forum

For as long as I can remember I was little more than a statistic. Tossed around from foster family to foster family. I’m sure I had parents at some point but if I did it wasn’t for long and if I had any memory of a mother or father it was locked away so deeply in my memories that it was completely lost to me. It was something that used to bother me once. A scared child, living amongst strangers, obligated to them for every small kindness they offered. It wasn’t all bad though. Some were really nice, some not so much but I never let myself become too attached because it never lasted long. Not once they found out my secret.

One thing about having nothing is that having something, anything, you can call your own becomes like an obsession. Small, inconsequential things that others tend to take for granted become something precious to be treasured. Well, it did for me. As I look back now they were average families, with average incomes and average lives but to me they were privileged. They had everything I would never have and then some. I didn’t think they’d mind sharing. I didn’t even think they would miss any of the stuff that I would claim as my own….but they did.

There are only so many places you can hide things in someone else’s house and as soon as anything was discovered missing, of course the blame was naturally put straight on the foster kid. Ellie had so many dolls who would have thought she’d miss that one with no shoes. And Mrs Denison had a ton of jewellery, was it really that bad that I took one little bracelet. It was so pretty and I had never had anything so pretty. Jack had so many toy cars, how was I to know that he named them all? And so it went. From place to place. From family to family, only to lose all that I had collected and have to start again at the new place.

It was heartbreaking and after crying so many times over things I couldn’t change I stopped caring. It became more of a game. So much so that I would take things just because I could. Try and take it from right under their noses and hope they didn’t catch me. It was thrilling at first and when I was caught I was able to shrug it off. I expected it eventually and half the time even I was surprised by some of the junk that would turn up in those stashes, stuff I didn’t even remember taking. It only got worse as I got older.

Once I was able to look after myself I left. Living on the streets had to be better than being the ever present stranger that came with a warning. I had freedom to come and go as a I pleased and my skills become more finely tuned. It was way more lucrative too. Wallets, watches, expensive bracelets and most didn’t even know it was missing till they got home, or went to pay for their dinner. That was of course on top of the useless keychains, cutlery, and whatever else I could get my hands on that I didn’t want or need. Sometimes I wasn’t so lucky though. Being a street kid meant the cops were always on my *** and more than once or twice I was caught with a bag full of wallets,jewellery and non descript nicknacks that didn’t belong to me. Though, it wasn’t that that got me in real trouble. I got cocky and well in over my head. Trying to steal from the most prestigious jewellery store in town was not smart by any means but I wanted to know if I could.

So there I was, standing before the judge. Lucky for me the judge was a she and a sympathetic one at that. “I didn’t really have much of a chance from the start.” she said. “I wasn’t a bad person, just misguided and maybe if someone had taught me what I should do instead of punishing me for the things I shouldn’t do, perhaps life would have been different .” she said. Again, I got lucky. A three year conditional sentence. No more stealing. Attend meetings. Find and hold down a job for the duration. That doesn’t sound too hard right?

Hello. My name’s Mercy and I’m a kleptomaniac….

Yeah **** that. I did what any self respecting criminal did and got the hell outta Dodge.

I figured I’d cross the nearest border into Canada and pick up right where I left off except with a brand new start in a place that no one knew me. Keep a low profile and not get caught. The details? I’d work that **** out as I went along. If I kept the plan simple, expected the unexpected and didn’t over think things then there was less chance of it all going to hell. Well…I couldn’t have been any more wrong than at that single, solitary moment in my life. It went to hell alright. Hell in a handbasket. And what happened next I couldn’t have anticipated in my worst nightmares.

Hello. My name’s Mercy and I’m a vampire…

Yeah. You heard right. A god damned **** sucking vampire. One minute I’m slipping my hand into pockets fishing for wallets, the next I’m trolling the sewers like some freakin’ monster out of a bad horror movie, chuggin’ down rat blood like my life depended on it. Well...I suppose it did but you know what I mean. Anyway, I did what I do best and rolled with the punches. It wasn’t so bad. After a while I even came to love it. I had powers that helped me do what I do best. I could sell off the **** and no questions were ever asked and the best part? Every one else was doing it too. It was like as a vampire you were expected to be breaking the law left and right. Despite the odd cop shooting at me on occasion I was pretty much left to my own devices. I had money. I had clothes. Hell..whatever I wanted or didn’t want I just took, totally sweet deal.

It was kinda lonely though and beddin’ down in different abandoned buildings every other night was getting a bit old. What was the use of ‘collecting’ all this stuff when I was constantly having leaving it behind? Then the weirdest thing happened. I started running into this one guy. Spanish I think he is. Cute too. I’d run into him in the sewers. In those monster houses and other places where there was a good stash to be stolen, and he’d just hang out. It was nice to have a bit of a company though we didn’t talk much. He was quiet and I didn’t have much to say either but it was a comfortable silence. An understanding that didn’t need to be expressed. For a good while I didn’t even know his name and then one night instead of hanging about the cold, dank sewers he invited me back to his place. Now get your mind out of the gutter. It wasn’t like that. Not at all.

What a treat! A hot shower, warm, soft bed and someone to say hello to when I came...home. It’s funny how some people can take some of the simplest things in life for granted. Not me. It was the best sleep I had had in a long time. Then he did something even more surprising and gave me a key. Just like that! No lectures, no derisive once overs, no long list of rules. I was floored. No one had ever put such trust in me or showed me such kindness for no reason at all and for that I would be ever grateful. I decided right then and there that I would never steal from this man and if ever he needed anything I would get it, or do my best to. Oh, turns out his name is Kyrian and as weird as it might sound he made me wanna be a better person. Something about the way he took in a veritable stranger made me feel something I had never felt before. Several things really but loyalty was one that stood out. Maybe it really was time for a change.

So fast forwarding a little... it had been a couple of years since my arrival in Harper Rock and what once had given me a total thrill had become extremely routine. There was no challenge, no excitement. Being what I am now just made it way too easy and while I couldn’t help myself, lifting anything and everything was just becoming more a problem than ever before. I didn’t need the money. I really had nothing to spend on it. All the useless junk I was collecting was irritating me. No more was it the shiny treasure it used to be, nor was it truly mine. Was I developing a conscience? Nah, I don’t think so but I was definitely bored and figured there just had to be something more though I had no idea what.

That was when I found myself standing outside the teahouse at Honeymead markets. My backpack was already weighed down with things I had snatched from the various shops in the area though if you asked me, I couldn’t rightly tell you exactly what I had collected that night. The small sign in the window was like a neon light that beckoned me.

‘Position Vacant. Apply within.’

I laughed at the preposterous idea. Me? An actual job? Ha! But as much as I scoffed at the mere thought my feet moved forward carrying me into the small parlour. Maybe there was something in there to be stolen. Yeah that’s it. I wasn’t really going to apply for a steady job….or was I?

~From the journal of Mistress Zodiac~

If I were to be asked, yes I recall the first time I laid eyes on Mercy.

It was a evening of brisk business in the Teahouse. Something had driven out the more human clientele and they were stopping in. As always, we were glad to have them. Unlike some of my kind, I do not see the living as a walking food bag to slaughtered without a second thought all of the time, but I am digressing now.

I had just finished ringing up a sale when the door chime sounded. I glanced up and saw a somewhat rare sight for this part of the world. A young girl. Now of course there is nothing unusual about that. We get young girls around here by the truckload as the norm, but one with a strong hint fo Latino to them is kinda rare in the cold of Canada.

Beautiful long hair, those brown eyes that could charm you in if one wasn't careful. Wrapped in jeans, a hoodie and a pair of Doc Martin's with a backpack on her back. Very easy on my eyes to be sure. I gave the customer their change and bowed my head in silence in thanks. They were heading for the door and I set my eye on the girl again. I could see in her aura she was one of us, which again was no surprise. Was getting hard not to trip on a vampire at every street corner nowdays but again, I am digressing.

The girl was looking around the place with a calculating eye. I honestly can't be sure if it was on purpose or reflex, but she was. I have to admit I am the same way. Always know what you are walking into. Well, as the departing client and the girl passed each other, I saw it. She was good. Very good. Had the man's wallet out and in her pocket without breaking her stride. Normally I frown on this in my places of business. My people and I have worked hard to make them places without the reputation of finding your money missing after visiting (or worse) so I hoped her visit here was in passing.

No such luck. 'You got to be kidding me!' I thought as I watched her look at the HELP WANTED sign again and began to make her way to where I was standing.

'Here comes trouble with brown eyes in a bandana and tight black jeans' I sighed.

It was just too easy and I almost caught myself as I wanted nothing more than to sigh with disappointment. The guy did not even notice and likely wouldn’t until he needed one of his cards of which I suspected there were many. It was getting harder and harder these days as people tended less towards carrying cash in place of plastic. I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to be caught. Maybe I wanted to experience the thrill of the case or...who the **** knows really. I just found myself at a point where more and more I started to think there had to be something else.

I could feel her eyes on me though I tried to avoid that gaze. Did she see that? Nah...she couldn’t have. Well, I hoped not. For a moment I was stuck. Did I turn around and leave? Make some lame excuse? What the hell was I thinking anyway...a ******* teahouse? What was I gonna do...knock off the cutlery? I snorted softly at my own stupidity then and decided then and there that I had to make my presence look at least a little purposeful. Perhaps I could distract her from what had just happened if in fact she had noticed.

For the first time I give her my full attention and hope I did my best to cover the amusement that coloured my expression. They certainly did go all out there. She looked like a gypsy queen complete with all the bells and purples. I wonder if that was some sort of required uniform. I hope not. I can’t believe I am about to do this as my feet carried me forward. The wallet seems to materialise from nowhere and I slap it down on the counter. “Uhh...that dude dropped it on his way out.” Oh way to go Mercy, you dumb ****. Lying now? What if she did see? My feet shuffle against the floor as I shift uncomfortably. “So your sign says you have work available? I was wondering what I gotta do to apply. Is the owner around?”

That gaze is making me nervous and the silence even more so. Now that I am nearer I can tell she is like me. All hope that my little indiscretion had gone unnoticed was now dashed but perhaps my returning the wallet would give me some favour. I don’t know how vampires deal with petty crime or if there is some sort of vampire prison anywhere but one thing I do know is that I do not want to find out.

~From the journal of Mistress Zodiac~

A dear friend of mine once told me: "Zo? I swear girl, you have eyes that could stop a train without even trying."

I liked it!

All I had to do in some cases was not make a sound (which is easy for a mute, right?) and just stare. Not move a muscle. Just keep those crystal blues right on my mark and oh how the clues would come rolling in about a person. I guess the unblinking gaze, highlighted with my strange notions of eye make up to frame and enhance the blue ones, does help a lot. Some have told me they have gotten lost in my eyes (flatters-the lot of them!) but the truth is, I honestly think it came from being unable to speak. Most average fucks, err, fools assume since you can't speak you can't hear. So I spent a lot of time as a child simply watching what others did and listening to them act like I was not even there. I began to learn that what the voice said and how the body acted was quite often two different sets of impulses. Translation: the mouth lies, but the body doesn't.

Mercy (at the time I did not know that was her name. She was just 'trouble in tight black jeans' in my mind at that moment) could tell I was watching her. A good thief always can. Just more proof I was right about her. I never brag that I can 'know' a person totally just by looking at them. That's a fools concept and anyone who claims they can is full of caribou crap. Even a highly skilled telepath could not tell you everything with just one peek. But a person's body is chocked full of little tidbits that add up to a basic picture if one knows what to look for.

The way she looked at me barely hid her amusement, which is fine. That is part of the reason I dress the way I do. Those who really know me understand this is truly what I am at heart, but the majority consider it a uniform or 'clown suit' type of deal-or else I was totally insane which again is a good thing when dealing with unknowns. The person coming to me might be a homicidal maniac, but if their eyes are wondering if I am nuts- then I have the advantage from square one.

Her walk was a bit uneasy. Probably wondering who or what she was exactly dealing with now. That's right, come to the Mistress. Good little fish. That is basically what this was. Fishing, but instead of things to put in a fish bowl, it was people. Her eyes barley hid her amusement but her body language was unsure. Perfect. Nervous or unsure? There is a difference. Her apparel told me she was an independent type and how her boots looked indicated she used them as boots and not fashion accessories like those who try to adopt a look simply to look cool. She was comfortable in those clothes as well, so not someone just down on their luck and wearing what was handy. Street rat perhaps? She was capable of work and probably worked hard, but what kind of work? The backpack rode easy on her shoulders, which told me it was a constant thing for her and not just something she did occasionally. A traveler or someone on the run?

The appearance of the wallet and her blatant lie surprised me. In my line of work you get that a lot, so I simply held my gaze. Her inquiry about employment could have been to toss me off track. She had been busted and knew it and was trying to slip out of the situation as gracefully as possible. I could not blame her for this. I would do the same if positions were reversed. Gods knows I have backpedaled and bald faced lied when the idea of the cops depriving me of my freedom was an issue. It wasn't me-it was the one armed zombie!

The devil took me as I decided to have some fun with this one. Oh I know, I can be an evil little ***** at time and this would be no exception.

Without breaking eye contact, I reached under the counter and pulled out our lost and found box and then dropped the wallet inside of it. After replacing the box, an application on a clip board was laid in front of the girl. I flipped a business card over and wrote softly:

Bring that to me when you are done. I AM the boss here.

The look on her face, to coin a cliché, was priceless.

Well ****. Two things I was not expecting right then and there. That this woman, who looked liked a unicorn had thrown up on her, was the boss and that she would be setting an application form in front of me. Double ****. I am certain the look on my face would have been obvious to the even sightless though I did my best to cover it quickly. Glancing down at the card that had been slid my way across the counter it occurred to me that this woman had not yet uttered a single word. One of those creepy silent types huh? Trying to scare me or something are you? The thought was meant to remain a private thought though I had not quite got a handle on the powers I had acquired yet and unwittingly projected it onto the other without realising.

Shifting on the spot I tugged at the strap of the backpack, pulling it higher onto my shoulder as I let my eyes fall to the paper before me. Now, academic education had not been a top priority growing up. Without a stable home and being on the move constantly from one family to another I found that learning math and anything above a very basic reading level to be completely unnecessary. Instinct was my teacher and survival the only lesson. Much of what I needed to know I learned on the streets and when it came to keeping my *** alive I found that I was a very quick study. Well...until that one night I got killed here in Harper Rock, but here I stood anyway. Ha! Even death didn’t want me.

The black ink on the white paper might have been a colony of marching ants for all the sense it made it to me but that fact that my reading skill was likely on par with a six year old was not something I was about to share with a complete stranger. Especially a creepy one who looked like she should be in some board walk fair flourishing over some crystal ball and taking money for telling a good story. My fingers rested lightly on the paper and I pushed the clipboard back towards her. “I don’t think that is really necessary do you? I am here, you are here. You can ask me anything you wish. Why don’t we do the interview now?” I gave one of my most charming smiles with just the slightest hint of self satisfaction.

Perhaps I would get out of this mess after all because surely she was going to send me packing or insist I fill out that paper which just was not going to happen. A step back was taken as I readied myself to make a rather hasty retreat with a gracious 'thank you' for the time spent before I disappeared into the shadows of the night.

~From the journal of Mistress Zodiac~

The girl was a telepath or had learned some basic telepathy. Her unbidden thoughts crossed to mine smoothly and I had to hold a smirk at bay. Mental tough talk usually suggested the woman was out of her element and was trying to regain their inner balance. Reclaim the high ground and thus being in charge of the situation. I could understand that very well. No one likes to feel suddenly out of control of something. Of course, if one has it coming then I have no sympathy at all, but the court was still out at the moment with this one. There are thieves and there are thieves, it was a matter of what kind she was. I had the matter all in hand until she spoke up.

“I don’t think that is really necessary do you? I am here, you are here. You can ask me anything you wish. Why don’t we do the interview now?”

People fail to realize they say so much when they are trying not to. What was the issue here? She wanted to interview. Now. Which was fine. Is my place and I can do what I want when I want to. When she began to step away, I reached out and took her hand into mine. Not a 'Hey! Stop you villain' grip, but a soft, yet firm one and pulled her palm to where I could look at it as I considered the moment.

A true street rat. Reading and possibly writing skills near nothing. She was avoiding filling out the application.

Now I sighed inside. Here was a potential issue that was suddenly making me feel sorry for them. I was never one to assume intelligence was decided by how many degrees one had on their wall. To survive one had to be smart, or at least cunning in nature. 'Street smart' some called it. The problem was, too many used that concept as an excuse for not trying to improve themselves. 'Why do I need to read? I'm street smart!' Yes, a person could feel really good about themselves with logic like that, but they were cheating themselves out of so much more.

I looked up into the girl's eyes after I did a basic check of the lines in her palm and held a finger against my lips for silence before I whispered to her thoughts.

"Hello there. I am so pleased you have taken an interest in joining us here." I kept my most disarming smile in place as I saw her eyes react to being spoken to in such a manner. "Yes, I am one of you as well, and by one of you I mean the kind who prefers blood in their personal diet."

I let go of her hand and picked up the clipboard while gesturing to an empty table away from most of the people here. "Sadly, I need this for my files if I decide to hire you, so why don't we have a seat and 'talk' and I can write down your answers. Are you thirsty? Can warm up a nice cup of B Positive for you if you'd like."

Sympathy for a street rat. Bad, Angela, bad! But I could not help myself. My own origins, though different from this one's, had similar lines within them. If one could not try to help someone overcome some of the same issues they had themselves in the past, then they were not worthy of the blessings they now enjoyed. "Most know me as Mistress Zodiac, or just Zodiac. My friends insist on Zo, but we are not that far along yet, are we? And what is your name, dear?"

My mouth opened to start mumbling a farewell; my feet all ready to carry me toward the door when a cool touch stopped me dead in my tracks. What the actual **** was this? Physical contact was not something I had experienced a lot of, unless of course you counted the manhandling when being arrested and the strip searches, which I didn’t. It was odd how it made me unable to move yet to want to run away at the same time and I am sure the confusion was plainly obvious on my olive features as I raised my eyes to meet the other woman’s. When she spoke into my head it was hard not to instantly recoil.

Only one other had ever done that and still did from time to time but that was different. He was safe. He was comfortable and the only real friend I had here. The only real friend I have had in a long time, though we spend most of our time in silence. I guess we both have our demons and just accept that about the other though I know if I need him he is there and vice versa. But I did not know this woman and she did not know me. Why was she being so nice? She obviously knew what I had done and probably already knows that I was just covering my *** as far as the job inquiry. People like me did not work in places this. People generally did not let people like me work anywhere except in some dead end factory making dog food or some ****. Yeah....no thank you. So why was she continuing this?

I stayed though, and did as she asked. Hell if it meant she wouldn’t call the cops then even better. Sure we can talk. Did I want blood? Not really. I shook my head. Zodiac. Her name. It was an interesting name yet oddly fitting. I nodded my head. Was she expecting me to talk, out loud or in her head? I dumped my backpack on the floor and slid into a chair opposite her. Now I was nervous and felt completely out of my depth. Confusion was abundant and I suddenly longed for the familiarity of the cold, lonely streets. My voice cracked a bit as began to speak and I had to pause a moment to find my voice. “Mercy. My name is Mercy.” I kept my voice low, aware of other people around. I would look a total whack job having a conversation with someone who obviously wasn’t speaking but what the ****....I had been called worse.