At the same time, Leona was on the way back to her old haven in Strauss' vehicle—a roomy Mercedes Benz 600 sedan. They were simply heading there to let her pack up some belongings and move to the LA Chantry, where every Tremere in this city gathers, but Strauss clearly was having lots of things on his mind, and went straight down to business with Leona once they got in the car, couldn't even wait until she settled down in the Chantry:

"First, you have my sincere thanks for the favour, Leona—and by the favour I didn't just mean keeping the secret, but completing the test. As you can deduct, your test was much harder than it should be, even for a Tremere standard."

Leona smiled bitterly: "Then I suppose you knew what was in there when you gave me the task."

"Yes. It was a risky move to let you handle this, and unfortunately I had no other choice—I would have appointed a more experienced Kindred on this, but only a direct descendent of Anastacia's bloodline could read her writing and destroy it, and with Garrett gone, it was only you left…"

"Still, you cannot know for sure I would succeed, can you? What if I failed? What are you going to do?"

This question of hers got him. Strauss didn't reply immediately, as if trying to find out a suitable answer for her, but realizing it was simply not possible, he gave it in the hard and real way: "If you failed, Anastacia's will would possess your body, then at least it's out and we can kill it."

Looking at the Regent, Leona found it hard to imagine these heartless words and thoughts were from someone who had the appearance of a young teenage boy…well, it was foolish to judge people's ages from looks in vampire world, wasn't it?

Though she didn't feel angry about Strauss planning to use her like this, partly because she already felt a little numb about it right now, and maybe also she actually appreciated this cold cleverness of his…objectively speaking. She had no option but to admire—what was she going to do otherwise? Swore revenge? Leona got a feeling that this kind of stuff would happen a lot in the future, and she didn't intend to crush herself with a hill of vengeance vows.

"Well, I guess it works." So Leona said, "Anyway, how did Anastacia get…'herself' inside that painting in the first place?"

"She was too obsessed and confident—the writing of Cain demands a much higher seniority in Kindred bloodline than she had: only Cain himself and the 13 Antediluvians have the blood pure and ancient enough to…call upon all Kindred, so to achieve the same effect, she poured parts of her own psyche inside the object." Seeming to pity the efforts of Anastacia, Strauss sighed, "It worked, when she was alive to maintain those writings, but after her death, those…soul fragments of hers started to wither and become twisted. In fact, Garrett was on his path to destroy these objects she left before Embracing you. The painting is the last one."

Quietly listened to Strauss's explanation, adding it to what she had known from Anastacia, Leona began to make sense of the whole thing. With most of her…urgent confusions resolved, she quickly moved her eyes towards what was next: "So what about now? I've got through all the…procedures, there's nothing wrong with me existing in this world now, right?"

"Nothing at all. Now you are a legitimate member of the Tremere Pyramid—that's how we call our hierarchy—and will be taught just like every apprentice, to learn and improve your disciplines…" Halted for a while, Strauss made a strange request, "Now that we've come to this topic, why don't you show me your form?"

"My what?"

Strauss thought about how to educate her on this for a moment, then raised his hand, with a stream of the illuminating, crimson threads sprouting out of his palm peacefully. Then he said:

"You used them to defeat Anastacia, didn't you? These are the Strings of Curse, what God used to curse and restrain Cain, and what Cain was enlightened to turn into the source of our strength—this is the very thing that defines our nature, and empowers our disciplines. For us Tremeres, our strings have a special ability to control blood, thus enable us the art Thaumaturgy, and when calling upon them to use this blood sorcery, the strings always come out of the body in a certain form that is different for every Tremere. I can show you mine right now…"

Then he stopped, concentrated his mind for a second, and merely within a blink, Leona saw those "Strings of Curse" pouring out and form into a scarlet stellar system, expanding to one meter wide, with the red spheres revolving around him like he was the star.

"…Wow…"

Leona couldn't help but acclaim, stunned by this…arcane sight. Though it was not the first time she heard about this blood magic thing, and based on Strauss and LaCroix's reactions, she managed to wield its power also, but she'd never had the time to think about and understand what it truly meant.

Now she got to witness it properly, and it was…marvellous, in an enigmatic, unearthly way.

Strauss withdrew his form quickly, clearly more interested in Leona's: "Show me yours. Don't worry about the car, as far as you don't intend to attack, it won't be damaged."

But how? Little bit unsure of what to do, Leona closed her eyes and pacified her mind like the Regent just did, tried to find that flow of heat she felt when confronting Anastacia…

To her relief, it was quite easy, and that feathery, blood wing of hers spread out from the back of her left shoulder, curled and gently trembled inside the narrow space, like a big bird being trapped in this vehicle.

"Hmmm…Interesting." Strauss gazed at her form, muttered.

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However, sensing a concern on his face, Leona took back her wing, feeling somewhat weird to contain something so big inside her torso without it exploding, and asked tentatively: "I…assumed this is a good thing, isn't it? Being able to use this magic before anyone teaches me to."

"I'm afraid that is not completely true."

But they didn't have time to further explain, for Leona had arrived at her old residence. She got off and went upstairs, didn't notice that a piece of her string was secretly "cut off" by one of Strauss', preserved in a tiny drop of blood, and hidden inside the pocket of his coat. She just wanted to finish this as soon as possible.

There weren't many things in her haven that were really hers, so within five minutes Leona was already prepared to leave. The only thing that dragged her down, strangely enough, was the stained dress she wore in her Embrace.

She sat at the bedside, holding this ragged, beyond-salvage cloth, remembering. It was the first thing she bought on her first day out with Alice—a simple, elegant, all-black A-line dress, from one of those expensive shops she wouldn't think of entering if it weren't for the encouragement of her friend.

Those days were gone: Alice, high-street shopping, life under sunlight. Now she had to restart her life again…from nothing.

Shouldn't be too hard, huh? It's not like she haven't done this before. Leona thought, put the dress back on the bed, grabbed her backpack and shut the door, leaving with Strauss to this new haven they'd arranged for her in the Chantry.

And she had to admit, it was way better than she expected, and definitely beat her old, crappy studio—though named with this religious word, the Chantry was placed in one of those vintage, four-storey buildings that carried on the retro British style near the city centre, and the interior decoration was quite to her liking, too: refined, classic but not excessive, unlike the threatening extravagance she saw in Prince's penthouse. Ceilings were white, and all walls were painted in a dark shade, with a different colour for each floor, be it cobalt blue, olive green or grape purple. For vampiric eyes, these colours were much more comfortable.

On her way she already met one or two Tremere vampires, all greeted her with a courtly nod and a curious look—Apparently, she was famous. And her haven was the apartment on the top floor, right beside Strauss', where Garrett used to live: Considering on other levels there were three flats on each, while it was two over here, her place was much more generous for a fledgling Kindred. Strauss called it "a reward for the favour".

Whatever the reason was. Leona used the key to open her door, somehow expecting to find traces of Garrett's former life here, but she was left to be disappointed: it was all cleaned up. Though the haven itself was a fancy, wine-red luxury suite, even equipped with a black-and-white bar table made with marble in the dining room, and a ebony shelf for spirits, none of which she could complain about.

The only thing here that could be counted as Garrett's, was the framed sketches on the wall of sceneries in all major European cities, for they had his signatures in the corners. One of them was actually a front view of his ancestral house.

That reminded her of his "therapeutic advice".

So the next evening, in which Strauss had granted her freedom for arrangements, Leona did as her Sire told her. She went out on a hunt.

Certainly she readied herself for quite a long time before action, like a girl who was about to went on for her first date. She deliberately starved herself, put on a full makeup—which she seldom did even for formal occasions, chose a seductive gown with a long split and a deep V-neck, and even practiced her smile. Her fellow Tremere vampires questioned why she put in so many efforts for a prey. To be honest, she didn't even know that herself.

Leona started with several meat-market night clubs, where the humans were supposed to be much easier to be tempted, but just like in human life, she never liked this kind of places. There were plenty of men who offered themselves, but…maybe it was the vampire senses, the crowds on dance floors were just too much to bear for her: she could hear all of their breaths and heartbeats, smell all of their sweat and fragrances, and their moves…even if they weren't dancing, their bodies were still so…vibrating for her, vibrating and bursting of energy and life.

She couldn't even think. So she left, wandered on the street for quite some time, and popped into a nicer, quieter piano bar. There was this one young bartender here who seemed really nice and somewhat into her, sensing her loneliness and lost feelings, chatted her up, told her those funny stories behind the cocktails, even offered her a hot glass of water and some free food because she "looked so hungry and cold".

Then Leona stayed until the bar was closed. She waited not far from the back exit, watched him come out and left for his car. It was her chance.

He was a young man who had a fair look—androgynous, some might even say, with a smooth, white skin so thin that every time he filled up the drink for Leona, she could see the veins on his wrist and the blood pumping through them, and she would have to use all her self-control to not stare. He was "an ideal prey", as her people put it, and she was hungry. Really hungry.

Still she couldn't take him. He actually asked for Leona's number, but she just gave him a fake one. Maybe it just wasn't her thing. Leona comforted herself with this notion, and decided to go back to her haven and drink blood bags like a loser. They weren't that bad, anyway.

She encountered some ruffians on the street, who were whistling at this seemingly helpless, drunk stumbling woman, but when they approached her for whatever purpose, her growling breath and zombie-like glares immediately spooked them off.

a little bit more walking, and she would be back into the haven. Just as Leona thought so, an old, homeless man reached out to her with his paper cup in a dark, empty alley.

"Spare change, miss?" He asked, with his voice shaking for the cold of the night.

Leona could see on first sight that this poor man didn't eat for a day, and he would be a frail human who was very unlikely to survive a careless vampire drink, so she forced herself to walk past him. She deeply regretted starving herself to this extent.

However, probably out of sheer desperation, the homeless grabbed her hand with his weak, bone-dry fingers—if he couldn't get anything from her now, his eyes possibly wouldn't be able to see the next sunset, yet he was still startled by her body temperature, and withdrew out of basic instinct.

But it was too late. Leona covered his mouth and dragged him deeper into the alleyway, torn down his dirty scarf and bit. She tasted his collar, which was unpleasantly like some old gym socks, and the body odor was unbearable, but most importantly, she tasted blood.

Sweet, warm blood coming out of one life, directly into her lifeless body—it was nothing like packaged food. It was emotional. She could sense the fear, confusion, and despair from this human's fainting conscious, and despite the ugliness of these moods, they still made the drink amazingly incomparable to those liquid preserved in plastics.

It was so alive, and…terrifying.

Leona finally realized what she did. She threw the homeless on the ground, who was anesthetized by her fangs and totally out, checked his pulse while keeping wiping her bloody mouth with her quavering hands. Luckily, she pulled out in time, and this old man was still alive.

"Oh God…oh God…"

She looked at him, kept murmuring the Lord's name, even though she knew he never answered—especially to her kind. Leona dropped some cash into the paper cup and ran away. Now, she realized she was just as hypocritical as the One Above was.