I arrived at the house as instructed at exactly six pm, I was ushered in and my coat taken. I was led through to a lounge where I sat and waited with four other people, we didn’t speak.  After a few minutes we were offered tea or coffee, I accepted tea.  It was odd; I knew why I was there and suspected that they were there for the same reason.  That made me slightly curious as to who they were, yet I had been ordered not to talk to them.  I sipped my tea when it arrived and satisfied my curiosity by covertly studying them.  I was slightly amused to find that they were doing the same.

After an uncomfortable half hour by the lounge clock we were collected one at a time and led off.  I was last, I wondered if that had any significance.  I was led to an upstairs room that held only a bed, a bookshelf, a chair and a small bedside cabinet.  On the bed was a bathrobe, I followed instructions and changed into it then followed my guide to a private bathroom.  A bath had been prepared, and I luxuriated in it.  When a small bell rang I stepped out of the bath and dried myself, my guide returned with slippers.  I donned my robe and put on the slippers and followed by guide again.  Back in my room a barber awaited, I had a haircut and a shave with a straight razor, a rare pleasure.  The hair clippings were carefully swept up and burned in my presence.  The barber left and my guide brought me a change of clothes.

I stripped and changed, carefully tying my white cotton robe with a red cord belt and changing my slippers for simple leather sandals.  My guide carefully arranged my hood.  I refused to have a cigar or cigarette but accepted a single drink, a fine malt whisky.  I sipped at it savouring the taste and texture.  I lay on the bed and read for an hour, my guide sat on the chair and didn’t make a sound.  This was my night.  At ten pm a gong sounded and my guide stood and took the book away, placing it on the bedside cabinet.
 
He carefully drilled me in the responses I would need for later, making sure that I could complete my part in the forthcoming ritual.  The ritual required three different languages and my pronunciation was checked and corrected until my guide was satisfied.  When he was he lit incense, a flowery scent that I couldn’t place.  It was explained that the smell represented life and nature, and then music was put on.  It wasn’t loud but I recognised Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.  My guide quietly explained that life was a unique experience, no two the same, and was based on choices.  This was my last chance to change my mind about the choice I had made.  I refused, stating clearly that I understood my choice fully and stood by it.  He smiled, nodded, raised my hood to shade my eyes and told me to wait in silence.  I nodded my understanding and waited.

What felt like an age later the door opened again and two red robed figures stood there.  They indicated that I should stand between them, and when I did, they began walking.  With one in front of me and one behind me I started my journey.  I was led downstairs again, before taking me into the lounge I was blindfolded then my hood was replaced to hide the fact.  I put my right hand on the shoulder of the one in front of me and we set off.  I followed where I was led and felt very aware of sounds and smells.  We stopped and my guide knocked a door, it creaked open slowly and a whispered exchange took place.  We began moving forward and I smelt an unpleasant stench, burning sulphur, and rotting meat.  The door banged shut behind us and I was led down a flight of stairs, each step was accompanied by a drumbeat.  I counted the stairs, there were eighteen.   I felt cloth brush my shoulders as we walked forward and soft music began, religious music which struck me as odd given what was going to happen.  It was only when a single, high, haunting voice began to sing that I recognised the music.  A requiem.

I was pushed to my knees roughly and held there, as other people filed in.  I counted seven sets of very soft footsteps, marvelling at how a blindfold affects your hearing.    None of them was the singer. None of them spoke.   The requiem ended abruptly to be replaced by a low drumbeat. The drumbeat gradually strengthened and picked up speed until it settled at the pace of a human heart beat, it was hypnotic.  The ritual had begun.  This portion of the ritual was in Greek, Attic Greek to be precise.  A strong, confident male voice demanded to know who had brought me here; from behind me I heard my sponsor’s voice.  I mentally dubbed the voice the ritual leader.  Once my sponsor had satisfied the ritual leader that he had the right to bring me here it was my turn.  I had to satisfy him that I knew why I was here, that I was willing to be here and that I wanted to proceed.  That sounds simple, it took what felt like ages and I was dripping in sweat even though the room wasn’t warm.  One of the others came forward and took my arm. I allowed myself to be pulled forward.

As I was led around a soft, sorrow tinged voice spoke in Latin, telling me of how Caine was cursed by god to walk forever in darkness and that I was going to follow in his footsteps.  Then the voice began to chant in Latin, as I mentally translated as quickly as I could.  Even although I had been prepared it was still a shock to hear myself being excommunicated.  That haunting voice started singing again, picking up exactly where it had left off as I felt other hands grab me.  I was dragged to my knees and felt a sharp pain as something punctured first my left elbow, then my right.  My hood was thrown back and as the blindfold was ripped off I could see a fanged mouth heading for my neck even as I saw two blue robed figures attached to my elbows and felt a third bite my neck.  As I felt my blood being drained from my body I was ordered to start the oath by the ritual leader.  Even as I obeyed the drum beat softly matched my heart beat and, when I faltered, I was beaten and harassed to continue.   As my life drained from my body I struggled to escape but couldn’t, their grip was like vices.  I was cajoled, cursed and beaten through the oath until I was on the verge of blacking out.  A sharp smell.  Vinegar.  I roused slightly and continued with my oath, and then a metal cup was pushed against my mouth.  Even as the coppery smell registered in my sluggish brain the viscous, coppery tasting blood spilled into my mouth.  I was urged to swallow, and as I weakly obeyed I felt the odd heat spread through my mouth and throat as the blood burned its way down. The drum beat had stopped.  I screamed and almost choked as more blood was poured in, I swallowed greedily until the cup was drawn away and I was forced to complete my oath.  I was dragged quickly towards the back of the room and I felt a hunger take me, an uncompromising hunger that demanded to be sated.  Now.  I wanted blood.  Lots of it.

I was dragged towards a door that was quickly opened, beyond it I could smell blood, I was thrown towards the door and propelled myself through it towards the feast beyond.  Blind to anything but the hunger I attacked the source of the blood smell, I felt fangs forcing through my gums, screamed and bit whatever I could grab.  As blood spilled into my mouth I gulped it down greedily, oblivious to the fact that it was spilling all over me.  When I could get no more from what I had I threw it aside and looked round, there was nothing else in the room.  Only me and a girl of no more than twelve.  A very dead girl, with a ragged wound torn in her throat although no blood escaped from it.  As my hunger abated and I saw what I had done I screamed, the door opened and then everything went black.

I awoke and looked around.  I was in bed, naked, the sheets were rough against my skin and even though the only light came from a dim lamp the room seemed very bright.  A door crashed open and I turned to see it being gently closed.  It closed with a bang.  I held my head confused, and to be honest frightened.  Standing just inside the room was a woman I didn’t know.  She smiled.  She smelled of blood.  I turned my full attention to her, and was aware that I could see details that I shouldn’t be able to.  Then I remembered.  I’d become a vampire last night.  At least I thought it was last night.  And I’d torn that poor child to pieces.  I felt like I should cry, or vomit but did neither.  I sat up and pulled the sheet around me.

“How do you feel?” she asked.
“A bit odd really.” I replied.
“Your senses will seem to be heightened, you’ll be stronger. And soon you’ll be hungry. Again.” She said. “That last snack took the edge off your hunger but you’ll have to eat regularly.”
“Do I have to kill?  Like last night?”
No you do not have to kill,” She replied, laughing.  Her laugh was like tinkling glass, “and last night was three nights ago.”  I stared.  “It isn’t uncommon.  You’ll have to learn how to feed without killing – and without being caught.  But one thing at a time.  Get dressed.”
“Yes ma’am.” She laughed again, I waited for her to leave or turn away.  She didn’t.  I got the idea and looked around for clothes.  As I dressed I did my best to ignore her, she wasn’t easy to ignore.  I felt like I should be blushing but didn’t feel the heat rising so continued to dress.
“I am Julia Barret of the seventh generation from Caine of Clan Tremere.” She said.
“Michael Grant, pleased to meet you.” I replied, and then recoiled as she slapped my face hard.
“You are Michael Grant of the Eighth generation from Caine of Clan Tremere.  Say it.” I obeyed. “That is how you introduce yourself formally.”

She opened the door and gestured for me to precede her out; I obeyed and stepped into a dimly lit corridor.  I smiled widely as I realised I could see as if it were daylight, that earned me another smack to the head.  She led me to the lounge and as we went in she smiled and told me that my training was about to begin.   She sat on a small settee and gestured for me to do likewise, the others from that night were arrayed around the room each accompanied by someone I didn’t recognise.  I guessed that we were all sitting with our tutors.  My sponsor was nowhere in sight.

A few minutes later a tall, imposing man entered I didn’t recognise him until he spoke.  I knew that voice.  He was the ritual leader.  He was dressed in a neat, expensively cut suit and looked not unlike a powerful businessman or a top lawyer.  He was obviously important and he knew it.

“I am Raymond Williams, of the fifth generation from Caine of Clan Tremere.” He said, “I am regent of this Chantry and it falls to me to supervise your basic training before assigning you to more...suitable locations.”  His eyes continually scanned the room, giving the impression that he missed nothing.  “You will not leave this Chantry save with your tutor, you will be assigned your own room and a task within the Chantry.  When you are not undertaking your assigned task, or being instructed by your tutor you will, failing instructions from your tutor to the contrary, regard that time as your own.  The penalty for disobedience is death.  Final death.   There is no such thing as due process in our world; you do not have the right to a lawyer or a representative.  In fact, at the moment you have no rights at all save those I give you.”  He paused.  “Your tutors will show you to your rooms and explain your tasks and responsibilities.  Do not let your house and clan down.  Ever.”

He left as abruptly as he had arrived.  I wasn’t sure that I liked him.  I was sure he didn’t care one way or the other.  Julia tapped my shoulder and indicated that we should leave, I rose and followed her.  We returned to the room she had collected me from.  I was told that this was my room and that I should take care of it.  I was told that anything that didn’t fit in my room would be disposed of or, if I could justify it, stored for me.  I was advised to go through my belongings and keep only what I needed, a few keepsakes if I must and absolutely nothing that could link me to my mortal life.  I was given two hours to do so, only then did I notice that there were three trunks that hadn’t been there when we had left.  I didn’t recognise them.  She left.

I started sorting out the contents.  I kept my best clothes and disposed of the rest, I also kept four pairs of shoes and a set of riding boots. I piled all the photographs to one side and went through my papers, setting aside those I needed to deal with and piling the others with the photographs for disposal.  I kept my toiletries, including the mother-of-pearl handled straight razor my grandfather had given me when I started shaving and the more modern safety razor. I hung up my clothes in the wardrobe, put my shoes in the bottom and stowed my toiletries neatly in the bedside cabinet.  Then smiled as I realised my room hadn’t had a wardrobe when I’d left for my welcome lecture.  I kept my wallet, the evening wear and my uniform.  As I hung it up in the wardrobe I remembered that I had my father’s medals.  I decided to keep them as all I had to do was claim that I collected such things and no one could prove otherwise.  I fetched the case they were in and put it safely in the bedside cabinet.  Julia returned with two people I didn’t recognise, without a word they collected the trunks and left, the trunks floating behind them as they pulled them along.  I stared in amazement.
 
“First things first.” Said Julia, closing the door, “Before we even think of that lets get used to what you are.  She went through the wardrobe and the drawers, I stood and watched holding down my annoyance.  “Not bad, what about these?”  She gestured at the two stacks of papers.
“This stack contains deeds to my home and bank books that are not yet empty.” I said, “This pile needs to be disposed of.   I would prefer them to be burned.”
“I don’t want you near fire yet, I’ll see to it for you.” She said, “Now how do you propose that we deal with the other things?”
“I could ask my lawyer to do it for me, but I’d have to see him.” I replied, “I’m not sure how advisable that is.”
“Highly inadvisable as your disappearance has already been reported and we are looking for a suitable way of closing the matter.”
“I have no idea.”
“We have.  Give me the documents and I’ll deal with them for you.”  I obeyed.

The remainder of the night was spent learning to control my new body – and getting used to the senses that went with it.  To demonstrate how sensitive my hearing was Julia put on a record, a soft classical piece.  I was surprised when I checked the volume setting, it was almost off and I could clearly hear the tune.  Even with the lights out I could see well enough to read using the light coming in the window. Touch was the hardest.  If I didn’t have something to do I found myself fascinated by how familiar things actually felt, Julia laughed and told me I’d have to get used to it.  I was told that tomorrow I would be taken on a tour of the Chantry and learn my responsibilities within it.  Julia left and I amused myself by seeing how fast I could move and getting used to my new found strength.  After crashing into the wall hard enough to crack plaster a few times I got the hang of stopping before hitting the wall.  When I felt tiredness take me I changed for bed, the door opened and an unfamiliar head popped round.

“Just a bit of friendly advice, shut the curtains and the shutters or you might not wake up.” Said a soft, friendly voice then the door closed.

It was the first time I’d noticed the shutters hidden behind the curtain, solid hardwood sheets with a centre catch.  I closed and latched them then drew the curtains closed.  The room was pitch black; the only light came in under the door.  I laughed delightedly as I realised I could still see, yawned, and went to bed.  I did not dream, nor have I ever since.  Sleep, for us, is a little death.

I awoke to find Julia standing in the doorway; she smiled and threw something at me.  It was a black robe and a red cord belt.  I put it on as Julia explained that in the Chantry I was required to wear a robe. I followed her along the corridor and waited outside a room as instructed; when she emerged she wore a pale blue robe, a deep green belt and a pendant round her neck.  It looked old.  She took me to the lounge again.  Yet again the others from my first night were here, each with their tutor. 
Standing in the centre of the room was a blue robed man with a purple belt and a pendant that looked not unlike Julia’s.  He surveyed us as if looking for fault and I found myself feeling like a schoolboy in the headmaster’s study.  He was an unremarkable looking man and could probably disappear in a crowd without too much effort.  He began speaking and I caught a trace of an accent, I tried to place it and smiled as I did.  He was Greek, probably from around Athens.

“Is something funny?” he asked, everyone turned to stare at me.
“Nothing that I’m aware of,” I replied.
“Then why the smile?”
“The smile is satisfaction at placing your Athenian accent.”  He raised his eyebrows. “I doubt if I would’ve noticed it before my embrace.”
“Very well.  I am Martin Calder, of the sixth generation from Caine of Clan Tremere and I am the Master of Apprentices for this Chantry.”  I will take you on a tour of the Chantry, without your tutors.  You are required to obey me at all times, I will inform you of your tasks and your working hours before returning you to your tutors.”

He walked to the door, opened it and gestured for us to follow him.  We rose and obeyed.  He led us around the Chantry explaining in detail what each area was and asking for questions every time.  He explained that some areas were, for the moment, out of bounds and why.  He told us our tasks and introduced us to the person responsible for supervising us in those tasks.  I was assigned to assist Henry Beauregard in translating various texts and maintaining books.  I suppressed a smile as I recognised the face of the person who had advised me about the windows last night.  We completed our tour and returned to the lounge.