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The woman manages half a scream. The old man turns, sees the mutilated corpse dangling from those huge jaws, and moans in horror. The thing holding the corpse hurls it toward the old man, missing you by inches and splattering your face with blood, and both the corpse and the old guy go down.

You absently note that the woman's corpse is already drained of blood. Then you turn and confront the thing in the bathroom.

The Kindred of Clan Nosferatu are never beautiful, but this one is particularly hideous: stark naked and so tall he has to stoop to get out of the room, with a flattened skull and huge, bat-like ears that make it impossible to imagine what he looked like in life.

And then you look into his flat black eyes, and realize there is nothing there.

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April 2007.

"In the end, we're weaker than they are," Julian says, watching a trio of teenagers across the 7-Eleven parking lot. He sips blood from his X-Treme Gulp, then uses it to gesture at the mortals. "I mean, spiritually, we're weaker. We're like scurvy victims or something—we can't heal."

"The Beast," you say.

"I'm not going to ask you what you've done in its grip," Julian says. "Or what you've done on your own and blamed the Beast for. But I know the Beast will eat you if you're not careful. It'll eat your soul and live behind your eyes. When that happens to one of us, the Camarilla call them wights and hunt them down."

"And the Assamites?" you ask.

"I don't know," Julian says. "I never had the courage to ask."

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The Nosferatu—the mindless wight that had once been a Nosferatu—spots you. But then it turns, and though you cannot see the tough-looking young guy and the old woman, you know that they're cornered in the storage room. As the dead woman's blood runs down its chin, the creature weighs its options. It turns toward the storage room, moving awkwardly because a huge iron chain is fastened around one of its legs. Then something lashes out of the darkness and the wight reels back, more in surprise than pain. The young man strikes the creature again with his crowbar.

That won't be enough to fend off a monster like this. These people will be dead in moments, and then the fallen Nosferatu will turn its mindless rage on you.

It seems like you're going to have to risk your own skin. You throw an empty can at the wight's head, then vanish behind a shelf. The monstrous thing howls and rushes you, abandoning the mortals.

But you're able to vanish in the darkness of the unlit convenience store and crawl beside the counter. When you look out again, the young man is creeping forward to recover his dazed elder—almost under the creature's nose. You make the slightest sound with your boot, just enough to distract the fallen Nosferatu from the rescue attempt.

But the wight reacts faster than you thought possible. The mindless thing grabs you by the ankle and tries to drag you out from behind the counter, but Blood automatically rushes to protect your flesh, and the monster cannot get a good grip, though its black nails rake your skin.

You kick the monster away and roll over the counter, limping only a little, just as the old woman shouts, "There's a way out!"

The wight runs toward the sound of the voice but gets caught on its chain again. You dodge around the creature and follow the men back to the storage room. The old woman has raised the door of the loading dock. As the wight rips apart the convenience store, you and the survivors race outside. You slam the door shut, and it locks with a satisfying click.

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