It’s hard to describe the thoughts and feelings of someone sent to wipe out a member of their own family, especially when such members are few and far between.

The Shadow was out on the ‘edges’, only found by travelling through dark city streets with ever increasing feelings of insecurity and hopelessness. The buildings whose architecture shifted to concrete monoliths interconnected by a myriad of bridges and cables were covered in neon signs barely seen through the smog.

This was a Shadow which barely sees the sun, and for a privileged few is just day after day of sex, drugs and music so loud it vibrates your soul with the baseline controlling your every move.

One of these parties was not like the other.

The music had stopped, and arrayed in the centre of the dance floor were four bodies. Each of them had their hands crossed over their chests, eyes closed but their bodies were unmistakably covered in  hundreds of small slices and their faces locked in their last expression: fear.

Everyone else had fled – the Shadows were not his concern. A single curiosity remained, chained up in a small chamber behind the stage. She had clearly been ‘ghouled’, for a long time considering the brand on her cheek and the size of the blood mark down her left forearm. But this ghoul wasn’t a servant; she was a blood-bag. 

Why would you feed from a blood bag who had your own blood coursing through it’s veins? It was a question which could only be answered by those who were now dead, or time. The immediate concern was whether it was a question worth answering. 

Her blood would need to be purged, her body restored to its original state…if that was even possible after all of these years. The pro’s and con’s flicked through the Venway’s mind while he stood there, staring into her eyes.

She was staring back, conscious and aware as she had always been since the first night she walked into the wrong room.

Curiosity would win this evening…and possibly, compassion as well.