Act Three Chapter Two - Walking In My Shoes

Michael sat quietly in the cab of his old beat up pick up. He was parked outside the Krispy Kreme donut shop on Virginia Beach Boulevard, about 4 blocks from Pembroke Mall. He was patiently waiting for the arrival of several of his friends, who had spontaneously decided to take a road trip to Virginia Beach to enjoy the fun and sun of the resort city.

He knew where they were. Pembroke Mall was host to two stores of great interest to his fellow geeks and nerds, a HobbyUSA and a game shop called A Bit of England. With the summer sunset so late in the evening, Michael knew he would not be able to join them before the mall closed, which he knew as he checked his watch would be very soon.

Solomon, in particular, had not been fond of Michael's decision to meet up with his friends from Blacksburg. "There is no Prince or active sheriff to arbitrate territory right now." he had warned. "So any vampire that claims that particular territory is within their rights to kill you."

"Okay, Dad." Michael had retorted sarcastically. Solomon was not amused. Despite his ill mood though, he relented in the end, handing Michael a gun to arm himself and then sending him on his way.

Michael, of course, knew that he was right. There were dangers, but he figured time with his mortal friends, away from the constant bullshit of the Danse Macabre, would do him good and was well worth the risk. He would not have much time to hunt these two days, but the smoking employee, now passed out behind the Krispy Kreme, was more than enough to satisfy him for now.

Michael reached under his light summer jacket to the shoulder holster where that pistol now rested. It was a Baretta 93R machine pistol, capable of burst fire and powerful enough to make even a vampire think twice. However, that potency came with a price. The pistol was nearly 10 inches long and, as such, somewhat hard to conceal beneath light summer clothes.

"Of course, maybe that's part of the point," Michael mused. "They'll know I have it." Of course, that could still be a bad thing, depending upon who "they" were at any given moment.

Michael checked the chamber on the gun and then returned it to the holster. It was at that moment that he heard the rumble of Mitch's old 70s era Camaro pulling into the lot at Krispy Kreme. Behind it followed Corwin's sleek red Toyota.

Michael stepped out and greeted his friends, a smile on his face. It was like old times, at least for one weekend he could pretend that he wasn't a vampire, that he hadn't been driven out of Blacksburg for fear of his life, and that everything was what it had once been. Mitch and Boar were there. Karl, Corwin, and Geoffrey finished out the group.

"Anyone hungry?" offered Michael.

"I could use a bite." replied Corwin.

"My treat."

"In that case..." teased Mitch.

Michael followed them inside, making good on his word. Each them in turn ordered a few donuts and some coffee before Michael stepped up to pay.

"You know, if you can afford to treat us all weekend, I'm surprised you're driving that old piece of junk." teased Mitch.

"I fold most of my profits back into the club." defended Michael, not taking the bait. "Give it time. I'll have a decent ride eventually. Besides, you haven’t exactly..." Michael waved his hands about in a pantomime of a stage magician "...conjured up a decent ride of your own."

"I've got sentimental attachment to her. Besides, things don't quite work like that for me."

Michael decided to change the subject. "So, what did you find this evening? Anything of interest?"

"A couple of Bandai Gundam kits." said Mitch. "I figured you might be interested. They got a couple more. You might want to check them out if you get a chance."

"I'll look into it." replied Michael. "Anything else?"

Corwin smiled. "Just these." He pulled out three roleplaying sourcebooks for the TORG game system from a paper bag.

"Oh, that takes me back." joked Michael.

"Well, come on. We're not all going to get together without..." Boar started counting off on his fingers "...drinking, gaming, and watching lots of anime."

"True." said Geoffrey, "but I do hope we get some time to enjoy some of what's here in the Tidewater."

"Yeah," added Corwin. "We haven't forgotten."

"What?" inquired Michael.

"Geoff wants to go up to Busch Gardens tomorrow. Figured we could do that while you're...you know..."

"Sure, just go have fun without me." said Michael sardonically. "Just remember, the fate of your game characters is in my hands."

"Not exactly our fault that you can't walk around in daylight." added Boar. There was some commotion behind the counter. "Seems someone discovered your handiwork."

"He'll be fine. I didn't take that much." reassured Michael. "Anyhow, let's head to the club. Bring your games, your characters, your dice. You've all got a date with The Gaunt Man tonight."

---

"I will put him to the test!" declared Mitch, playing a card from the TORG drama deck to add to his character's action.

"Alright, roll it."

The club had been busy that night, as was to be expected on the first Friday night after the end of the local school year. But Michael had entrusted the running of the establishment to his employees. When he and the others arrived around 10:30pm, Leigh in particular was pleased to see him, but then ultimately disappointed when he took a few bottles down to the office and cloistered there with his friends to play some TORG.

"She'll get over it." Michael thought as Mitch rolled a success. "Alright, Mitch, your have seriously unsettled your foe. Next player."

"While he's got him distracted, I attack." said Geoff. He flung out a bunch of drama deck cards and rolled the die.

"Yowza, going for the throat, are we?" said Michael with a smile. "Well, with that, you utterly annihilate your opponent. And with his defeat, The Gaunt Man's plans are thwarted once again." Michael leaned back, satisfied that he'd not lost any of his "geek cred" since becoming a vampire. It had been a good game.

"Can I get your boys anything else?" asked Leigh as she came into the office.

Michael checked his watch. "Last call." he noted.

Leigh nodded. Michael looked about at his friends. There were several beer bottles scattered about, along with an empty fifth or two of rum and whiskey. But no one seemed inclined to have any more. "I think we're good. Thanks, Leigh. Really appreciate you all minding the store while I've been enjoying time with my buds here."

"Some extra pay would be nice." she teased.

"You know how I take care of you, baby." flirted Michael. "Now get yourself home and get some rest. Your son is waiting."

"Thanks. Love you." she darted back out.

"So, that's her?" asked Corwin. "Your 'special' someone." He emphasized the word special to indicate he fully understood Leigh's somewhat unique position among Michael's conquests.

"Yeah, that's Leigh. That's her."

"Not what I expected after Kris and Deb and Rebecca." said Corwin.

Michael flinched at the names, but held his anger in check. He was certain that Corwin was unaware of just how painful those memories were and, as such, was not intentionally trying to get to him. "Let's just say my tastes are a little varied. She wasn't exactly what I expected either." he paused. "She's different. She doesn't know."

"You didn't tell her?"

"He wouldn't have told Kris if he'd had that choice." interjected Mitch. "It's better that they don't know."

"I would think..."

"There are dangers." Michael interrupted. "As I'm sure we've all learned. What I've become is not all sunshine and roses."

"Hardly, you're a vampire. No sunshine for you." added Karl. His attempt at mirth fell flat.

"Kris is dead, Deborah is a prisoner, and God only knows what's become of Rebecca. I don't want that to happen again. Not here. Not to Leigh. It's better that she stays ignorant."

Michael's tone was hard and there wasn't anyone in the room who mistook his meaning. Corwin decided to change the direction of the conversation. "Well, Leigh is cute."

"And a real tiger under the sheets." boasted Michael. His smile returned to his lips.

Boar stood up. "I think I'm going to get some air. Your people aren't going to lock me out, are they?"

Michael tossed him his keys. "If they do..." Boar departed.

"Anyone notice that Boar doesn't quite seem himself anymore?" asked Mitch, as he poured himself another Rum & Coke.

"He was enjoying himself this evening." replied Michael.

"First time in a while. Something's eating him."

"You could easily find out what." Said Michael.

"I'd rather not do that to a friend."

"He was a real mess when I found him that day." added Corwin. "Almost drank himself to death for a week after. Kept talking about Amy or some such."

"Maybe I'm not the only one with a tragic story." added Michael. "Anyway, it's 2:00am. If you guys are going to hit Busch Gardens tomorrow, you may want to wind down soon."

"Alright, I'll go get the sleeping bags." said Karl. "Anyone care to help?"

---

Most of the guys stayed up for a while longer, watching anime and finishing off a few more drinks. Eventually, each of them drifted off to sleep. When dawn came, Michael did likewise. His reserve haven, with its coffin, was still occupied by the torpored Francois, but Michael was confident that he was as safe here among these friends as he would be back with Solomon. No sunlight could reach the office and he would be awake again by the time the employees returned the next evening.

Thus, Michael slept as his visiting friends enjoyed the day. Michael had no idea how late they slept or when they left for Busch Gardens. All he knew was they were there when he awoke.

"So, last night, we gamed. We drank. You spent the day at Busch Gardens. What are you up for tonight?" he asked as he came to his feet.

"Boardwalk" answered Geoff. The group nodded their assent.

"Alright, a summer Saturday in June." said Mitch. "Parking's going to be a premium down that way. So let's try to consolidate vehicles to make it easier." Mitch had spent some of his youth in Virginia Beach and knew the area far better than anyone present. Michael was learning, but he rarely ventured beyond Hampton and Williamsburg.

"Only car we have that can haul all seven of us is my truck." said Michael. "Three up front and four in the back. Not exactly legal, but..."

"I think that'll do." said Karl. "Be a little rough, but we'll manage."

In a few short minutes, they all piled into Michael’s pickup. As they headed out, Michael gave a quick wave to Leigh and Virgil as they departed. Once more, he left the operation of the club to his staff as he headed out to enjoy the weekend.

As they headed down I-264 towards the Virginia Beach boardwalk, Michael mused that he was taking his chances again. After all, this was his second night in a row he was wandering outside of his territory, second night to tempt fate for a night with his old friends. He shrugged it off, remembering again the machine pistol nestled snuggly under his armpit.

It was not long before the Interstate highway came to an end, spilling out onto the city streets a few blocks short of the ocean. He continued a few blocks, stopping at the light just two blocks short of the beach itself. Michael glared momentarily at the building on the opposite left corner, Nightstyles.

“That used to be a really cool place.” Said Mitch, noticing Michael’s attention.

“Until Prince Lazarus deemed otherwise.” Added Michael.

“Really?” replied Mitch. “I heard it was a big drug bust or something.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that was a popular spot for dealers, but the drugs they found on the owner were planted. The Prince wanted it shut down as a moral hazard.”

“That sucks.”

“Well, he’s dead but that’s still vampire territory. Neutral ground. It’s where the Primogen like to meet.”

“So I’m guessing we want to steer clear.”

“Yeah.” The light changed and Michael made a right turn. He headed south, travelling several blocks before spotting a parking lot that looked promising near Norfolk Ave.

He pulled in and searched about. As he had feared, things were busy but he found what he was looking for. He pulled in and the group piled out of the car.

“You went kinda far south.” Commented Mitch. “Most of the action is towards the pier.”

“It’ll be some exercise then. Come on.”

---

Michael wasn’t entirely sure what people wanted to do. It didn’t take long for him to figure it out. Armed with fake IDs, it seemed his friends were mostly interested in a pub crawl, hitting each bar and lounge in turn as they headed north towards the pier.

Mitch, for his part, acted as their tour guide, relying on his old knowledge of the city to direct his friends about. He knew which clubs would be easier to get into, which ones were more diligent about carding, and even which ones watered down their drinks too much.

Michael bought his friends a few rounds, and had a few himself. However, while his vampiric body could consume and taste each drink, he was unable to get inebriated from them. Several of his friends expressed their envy of that as they continued to move on.

The drunker they got, the less inhibited they became. Michael took great pleasure in watching each of them chemically unwind. Even Boar, whose dour moods had been noticed by all, seemed to lighten up after a while.

Michael was mindful to keep an eye open for cops. Public intoxication was frowned upon heavily in the “family friendly” environment of Virginia Beach, although drunken soldiers and sailors from the area’s many military bases made enforcing that somewhat difficult.

After a couple hours, they had made their way north to the pier. As they walked, they talked about all sorts of topics: gaming, girls, cars, drinking, the usual topics to occupy the minds of a group of college-aged nerds on a road trip.

"So when you coming back?" asked Corwin of Michael. "We miss you guys back at Tech."

Michael wasn't entirely sure what to make of Corwin's unexpected question. Was it just drunken sentimentality or was it a serious inquiry making its way through the haze of alcohol? Michael decided to answer it sincerely.

"We can't. Not yet. Mitch has a mission to accomplish here in Tidewater, and so do I. I can't just show up back there like nothing has happened. He'll kill me and the only way to avoid that is to show up so dangerous that he'll be afraid to try."

Corwin was quiet for a minute. "How long will that take?"

"I don't know."

“Hey, guys,” Mitch exclaimed excitedly, breaking the solemn tone of the conversation. “I’ve got an idea!” He waved for them to follow him.

“What’s he up to?” asked Karl.

“Got me.” Said Michael. “But it’ll probably be fun.”

It was not a mystery for long. Less than half a block of following the excited Mitch brought the sounds of a carnival to their ears and the bright lights of amusement park rides to their eyes.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Half-lamented Geoff, his speech somewhat slurred. “I’ve had 8 beersh tonight and he wantsh me to ride one of thoshe.”

“You might want to just watch.” Said Michael. They continued after Mitch.

Michael was about to cross Atlantic Avenue to join Mitch at the ticket office when the loud racket of car horns drew his attention. About half a block up the street, a ragged poorly-dressed man was staggering through the middle of the street, blocking traffic and irritating the tourist drivers.

“Dude’s gonna get himself killed.” Said Corwin.

“He’s drunk or crazy.” Added Boar.

“So are we.” Said Michael, cracking a joke, “but I ain’t gonna let him get killed. Stay here.”

Michael made his way hurriedly down the street. He waved down several motorists so he could cross to the center. When he got to the man, he expected to have his senses assaulted with the smell of body odor and alcohol, and was surprised to scent a different aroma. He smelled of pine, like the floor of a forest after the rain.

Michael took the man’s arm. “Buddy, come on. This is dangerous.” He then hurriedly dragged him out of traffic and onto the sidewalk, to the mild applause of several onlookers.

“Aren’t your kind supposed to be evil?” teased Mitch.

“Only sometimes.” Said Michael. He looked the man in the eyes and received a blank stare in return. He snapped his fingers in front of his face and the man didn’t even blink.

“He’s messed up on something, but it isn’t booze. No smell of alcohol on him at all. Smells more like he’s been a month in the woods than anywhere else.”

“Mr. Christmas Tree here is not really our problem.” Argued Boar.

“Don’t be cruel, Boar.” Said Mitch. “Any ID on him?” He did not wait for an answer, but leaned in and fished through a couple of the man’s pockets. The man did not object. He pulled out a wallet.

“Awfully nice wallet for a bum.” Observed Corwin.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Said Mitch. “Couple things here. Looks like a hunting license and here’s a driver’s license. Hey, Michael! You grew up in Charleston, WV, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Seems that’s where this guy is from.” He paused for moment to look over the yellowed piece of paper Michael presumed was the hunting license. “The date on this license is for November 1987.”

“Shix yearsh ago.” Said Geoff, perhaps too drunk to realize they could all work that out.

“What’s his name?” asked Michael.

“Ian MacAlister.”

“Say what?” Michael came swiftly to his feet and snatched the driver’s license from Mitch’s hand.

The face on the license only partly resembled the man before them, but Michael could see the similarities: eye color, the shape of his nose, the fit of his jaw. Michael could barely believe it. This person, whom they’d all presumed was just some bum lost and out of his mind on drugs, was the youth pastor from his church back in Charleston.

“You know him?” asked Mitch. The answer was obvious.

“Something’s not right here. It’s Pastor Ian, from my church back home. Why is he here? Dressed like this?”

“You have only to ask.” Said Mitch. He leaned in and touched Ian’s face, focusing his will across the span of time.

Less than a second later, Mitch cried out as if in pain and broke the connection. He fell back and began to convulse violently on the sidewalk.

“What the hell?” said Corwin.

The seizure was over in a few seconds. Karl and Boar propped Mitch up against the building wall next to Ian. For a brief moment, the look on Mitch’s face matched that of Ian, a blank empty stare.

“What did he do?” asked Karl.

Michael knew that while the others knew he was a vampire, they did not know that Mitch was a mage nor Boar a werewolf. So he chose to ignore the question. He leaned in to check Mitch when he snapped out of it. His eyes regained their focus and he gave a horrified shiver.

“What did you see?” Michael asked.

Mitch shook his head, his eyes still wide, as if he’d envisioned something utterly unspeakable. “I…I…I don’t know. I…can’t describe it.”

“You folks need any help?” said a voice.

Michael spun quickly, fearing that this scene had drawn the cops at last. He was not relieved to discover the voice belonged to a particular Malkovian vampire of his acquaintance.

“Michael!” spat Ernie, his voice taking on the sing-song high pitched tone of his child personality. “Come to the beach tonight too?”

“Yeah.” Michael replied cautiously.

“Looks like your friends have had a little too much fun.” He looked at each of them in turn.

Karl. “Drunk.”

Corwin. “Drunk.”

Geoff. “Very drunk.”

Boar. “Werewolf.”

Michael knew he was reading their minds each in turn and he reflexively threw up the very defenses Ernie had once taught him. Ernie looked at Michael, frowned when he realized he couldn’t get through, and then moved to Mitch.

“Dru…oh, my.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, my again.” Said Ernie, ignoring the question to look at Pastor Ian. “Do you know what you’ve stumbled upon?” Without giving Michael a chance to answer, Ernie leaned down, his fangs extended.

Michael cried out in alarm, but it was Mitch who pushed Ernie away. “You don’t want to do that.” Said Mitch, his voice twinged with fear and warning.

“Oh, don’t I?” Ernie’s voice hardened. “You do not command us, mage.”

This was the voice of a new personality; Michael had never heard Ernie use a royal “we” before. Michael moved between then.

“Regardless, you do not threaten my friends.” Said Michael boldly. He motioned towards Ian. “Including him.” Michael’s hand went to the bulge under his jacket.

Ernie gave Michael a hard stare, his eyes angry. But after a second, they softened and his voice returned to its usual high pitched squeal. “A friend? Well, why didn’t you say so? Oh, but your friend is in a bad way.”

“What do you know?”

“I know he need help. To find his way. He’s here physically, but his mind is still lost in the hedges.”

“Can you help him?”

“No, sorry. Even if I wanted to…” his voice hardened again “…and I don’t, since you were so mean to me.” Ernie paused. “Sarah! She can help.”

“Sarah?”

“Sarah Cobbler, the witch. She’ll help you, although there’ll be a price.” Ernie looked Michael up and down. “And you’ll fit the bill. She’ll like you.”

Somehow, Michael did not find that reassuring.

---

“So are you planning to open an orphanage?” quipped Solomon.

“Say what?”

“It’s like you’re Peter Pan, collecting your own set of Lost Boys. First Francois, now this Pastor Ian.”

“Don’t ask me why they keep stumbling my way.”

“Are you friends gone yet?”

“They leave tomorrow when the sun is up.” Solomon did not seem disappointed at that news. “But now, I have a new task. One I’m not sure I want to embrace.”

“Why not?”

“Ernie.” Replied Michael, “as always.”

“Hard to guess what he might be up to here; Sending you to Sarah.”

“You know her then?”

“Yes.” Solomon hissed, his voice revealing his displeasure. “She is…different.”

“How so?”

“In a lot of ways. You’ll see.”

To Chapter Three