|“||No, you listen to me. I don’t care who you are or who you’re with; the lady asked not to be disturbed. And she isn’t going to be. Capisce?||”|
When most vampires think of ghouls, they picture the vassal. Many Cainites find it inconceivable to create ghouls for any other purpose; indeed, to most Kindred, any ghouls other than vassals are blasphemies.
By and large, vassals are the “normal people” among ghouls. Most of them didn’t ask for their new power or immortality, although few complain too much once the blood bond takes effect. Scant few of them know even a quarter what a neonate does about Kindred society. Somewhere along the line, they were just singled out by something old and powerful, something that wanted another pair of hands. Although a vassal’s supply of vitae is pretty much assured, that’s really all she has to look forward to.
In fact, she’d better be on her very best behavior if she wants to keep her liquid strength coming regularly. She also has to come to terms with the fact that she’s in love — truly, passionately, in a way she didn’t think she’d ever feel again after her first love left — with a person who treats her with passing kindness at best and draconian cruelty at worst.
The sad thing is that the great majority of vassals really have no idea what’s going on. They don’t know why they feel the way they do; they don’t know what’s in that miracle drink their new friend gives them. But they’re loyal, if for no other reason than they don’t want the magic to stop. They don’t want to go back to the monochromatic, tasteless lives they knew before. And you know what? Those are the lucky ones. Because once a ghoul’s been dragged to the other side of that mystery, once the Masquerade’s been broken, she exists entirely at the sufferance of her domitor.