"The Clan Hecata is not one singular bloodline, but a collection of vaguely similar vampiric strains. Each of them has its own varied culture and goals. But they are all united by one obsession, necromancy. Indeed, the Hecata are renowned as the only Kindred besides the Tremere who can practice magic. The Tzimisce have access to vague sorceries, and the Assamites have imitations of Blood Magic, but those hardly count.

But the arts of the Hecata cannot be summoned at will. These arts must be taught, and preparation needed before the commencement of each ritual. The time required for each ritual depends on its power, and even more so on the skill of the ritualist of course. And without a teacher, even the most gifted adepts will never access the full secrets of their power.

Excerpt from "Outside of Magic", by Ahmed Ibn Hassan.

*********

She was waking up. Jessie was sure she'd be dead by now, but here she was, alive and waking. She recognized this as the room Isaac had lent her. The floral pattern of the walls, and the white painted furniture once again reminding her of an old family home.

"I guess he patched me up. Wait, my arm!" The arm which Lawrence destroyed was right where it should have been. Likewise, her face and the burns she'd received across her body were absent.

"Ok, this is insane. Also, am I wearing pajamas?" She was indeed wearing pajamas, monochrome white cotton. They were very warm and very comfy. This was all such a stark contrast to what Jessie could last remember, that she felt overwhelmed.

Until there was a knock on the door.

"Are you awake?" The voice on the other side was Isaac's. "If you are, please respond."

"I'm awake." Jessie was still getting her bearings, but if Isaac had gone through this much trouble to save her life...well, that earned him cooperation at least.

"Wait a moment, please." The door opened, and Isaac walked through (sans dress jacket) carrying a very large ice cooler. "It took me a while but I found something you might find appetizing."

Jessie was still on her bed and hadn't made any move to leave it yet. She still couldn't believe how soft the sheets were, even after two nights of lying down on them. Isaac certainly didn't protest, as he walked right over and placed the cooler in front of her.

"I think I can guess what it is." Jessie opened it and saw several colds and preserved blood packs stored inside. "And look: O positive. My favorite."

"Was that a joke?"

Jessie could hardly believe it herself. She was always so focused on keeping on her best behavior, that she rarely took the time to appreciate moments of levity.

"Yeah, I guess so." She was hungry, but not starving. So she had enough control to take one pack at a time and slurp up the contents with little mess involved. Blood was still blood though, and little flecks and stains started appearing on her pajamas and the bed. "I'm sorry, Isaac."

"Trust me madame, far messier Kindred than you have dined here." Isaac tried laughing at that but paused midway. "I'm not sure if that's really amusing or not."

"I wouldn't know. I'm not a funny person." She was working her way through the box at a faster pace now. Of course, she would be hungry after an intense battle, so her appetite was unsurprising. But her wounds were entirely healed. She should have been rabid at this point, as a Kindred's healing took precious blood, as did all their powers.

"How did you fix me?"

"I've learned a few things, other disciplines which allowed me to help you." Isaac seemed careful with his words. But why admit such things were within his power then? Was there some other secret to this supposed power of his?

"I've never heard of a discipline that can heal others." Jessie didn't mean to pry and knew that she shouldn't. Yet the idea of a discipline not geared toward destruction was interesting to her.

"You're young for one of us. You'll hear about it sooner or later." Isaac's tone was friendly enough, but it was clear that he was done with that particular topic. "I must say, you're more talkative now than you've been for the past few nights. You being unconscious probably factored in, but besides that..."

"Sorry. I don't why I just-wait, how long have I been unconscious?"

He raised a single finger from his hand. "One night alone, this is night two you've been bedridden. You would have been asleep much longer if I hadn't reached you in time. And of course, Amaya was very keen on taking you in."

That was the most frightening thing Jessie had heard in a long time.

"But you helped me instead?" She couldn't keep the shock out of her voice. "Why?"

"I know Amaya's reputation, no one should have to endure her pleasures."

"You stood up to the Prince, for me?" It was insanity, what was his angle? "Don't tell me it was out of the goodness of your heart."

"I promise you, I only wanted to help." He wasn't offended. If anything, he looked worried for her, concerned for her state of mind. "Please, understand-"

"No!" She screamed and leaped out of the bed. She didn't break from the door quite yet, but she did run into the corner furthest from this...nutcase. "No one does that for nothing, so what the fuck do you want from me?"

"I only wanted to help you, nothing else. I swear."

"No. No fucking way!" She was shrieking now, all the violence leading her and all the mind games from so many other people in her life; it was all coming out in a storm of anguish and fury.

"No one helps people for free. WE do not do anything for free. That's all we are, bloodsuckers, assholes, and wannabe royalty fucking each other over for whatever reason they like." She could feel herself shaking, and the chattering of her teeth. "You, us, every vampire: is out for themselves. And me knowing that, is the only reason I'm not dust in Amaya's trashcan."

"I had hoped to give a better impression, the right one I mean." Isaac remained calm and kind, no anger on his face. How?

"You said you knew the game? Well so do I?" Jessie braced herself for reprisal, but she wasn't going to keep quiet. "You think you're the first person to come at me with a smile and kind word? I've seen every kind of fake grin there is, and I have been fucked over each time. You're just manipulating me."

"No, I am not." Isaac looked as if he were struggling for his next words. Once he did, he did not seem happy. So, with a weary sigh, he spoke again: "I am not Ian."

"Ian's dead...holy shit, Ian's dead." So many memories, all horrific and tainted, tore through her mind. It was too much, and she finally fell to the ground, hugging her knees.

"I'm sorry." Isaac was already beside her; he'd rushed to her side as soon as she fell. "I wasn't sure what might happen, but I knew bringing him up would shock you at least."

"Shock me? I was shocked when he walked into my life and offered me water." She was still hugging her knees, and couldn't look at anything but the floor. "I'd spent my whole life living off water from gutters and sleeping garbage cans. I only ever got food by stealing it, or trading for...the only thing I had."

She took a deep breath; she'd never talked about this to anyone before. But as horrible as it was to relive, there was a strange and almost cleansing after effect from it.

"The things I did to survive, they were disgusting. I hated myself, I still do. But nothing was more horrifying than when he sunk his fangs into my neck and he turned me."

"I know of your clan's curse. Being fed on by a vampire is usually a euphoric experience, for mortals. I can't even imagine-"

"I can." She could finally look Isaac in the eyes now, those sad and pitying eyes. "I remember feeling like my entire body was on fire. I remember every part of me feeling violated and then wanting more than anything to just die and end the pain. And I've done the same to so many people now, and I hate it. I hate needing to do it and I hate being this...thing!"

The undead did not cry, they could shed no tears. But Jessie did sob and scream at all the pain she'd endured till now. Isaac was there, he held her tightly in a warm embrace. There nothing romantic about it though. Jessie had never known what it was like for a father to hug her, but this felt like she imagined it.

"I'm sorry." She left his embrace, gently. "I know that you're trying to help me, even though I don't know why. I want to explain everything but, I don't know if you can understand.

There was silence, and Isaac's expression became neutral and devoid of any feeling. Then, with another weary sigh, he pulled back the sleeve on the left arm of his shirt.

"Why is he...no, those can't be real."

A long sequence of numbers was tattooed into Isaac's wrist. The numbers were discernible but also distorted. For there were numerous burn marks beneath and around the numbers, and the still warped and purples flesh probably contributed to the number's strange appearance.

"Since you have shared your past, I suppose it is only fair that I share some of mine." He pulled his sleeve back down and prepared to speak of things that no one would wish to. "These markings are from a concentration camp, as I am sure you recognized. I lost my wife in that same camp. And still more torments befell me after her death. Both in, and out of the camp."

He paused. Even this brief recollection seemed to take its toll. But he closed his eyes and then began again.

"I will not presume upon what you are feeling, or advise you on what you should do." He opened his eyes and stood up. "But please, believe me: I do not enjoy seeing people suffer. And I try as best as I can to help"

"I would like to help you as well if you'll let me." He offered his hand to her, once again in that chivalrous fashion that suited him as naturally as the jackets he wore.

"Alright, I can try." She took his hand, and let him guide her to her feet again.

"I'm glad we can understand each other. Which is why I am sorry to bring you further bad news."

"What now?"

"Amaya is calling the primogen council, and all other influential kindred in the city." He gritted his teeth, not wanting to speak further, but knowing he had to. "She has scheduled a public execution for Lawrence."

"And she wants me to see it." Amaya knew Jessie did not enjoy the role she'd been assigned. So of course, the psycho would want to drink in every ounce of "existential pain" that she could get.

"Fine, no reason to keep her waiting." Isaac was about to say something, most likely an assurance that she didn't have to go. But she didn't need it. "I need to see this. I can't take back what happened, but I need to see it end."

"I understand." His face was all business now. "But if you are going, I feel I ought to share something with you."

"What is it?"

"I've been talking with the Tremere we met earlier, as well as the Gangrel from the other night..."