Act One Chapter Eight - Barrel of a Gun

Michael sat quietly in the office at Nightstyles. Sarah was with him, on the sofa, flipping through a deck of tarot anxiously. It didn’t seem she was doing a reading or anything, just flipping cards to keep her hands from being idle.

A knock came at the office door and Michael barked “Enter!” Virgil walked inside with some computer printouts. “Got some news, boss.”

“What’s this?”

“I got the numbers from the last two weeks here at Nightstyles. Income is up 17%. Things are booming here.” Virgil moved around the desk to plant the papers in front of Michael. He began pointing at numbers and explaining excitedly how well the business was doing now that Michael was back.

Michael didn’t heed the details so much as the emotion behind Virgil’s words. The night before, when Michael came to Nightstyles to meet Damian, he had not gone inside. He had not seen Virgil. He had said nothing about what had happened. Virgil’s ignorance of recent events was a breath of fresh air to Michael. It would nice to be oblivious to all the danger, but that was no longer possible. Not even for Virgil.

“I’m thinking those four lovely ladies you’re always with have helped.” Virgil looked over to Sarah, dressed in her new sexy attire. “Of course, I’m sure Sarah’s presence isn’t hurting either. I lost count of the number of drinks I had to make for her the other night from interested parties.”

“Why, thank you, Virgil.” Said Sarah with a playful grin.

“Three of those lovely ladies are now lying in a shallow grave behind the Fox Club.” Interjected Michael grimly. “Max had them murdered.”

“What?” said Virgil with astonishment. “Why?”

“To send a message. To remind me of who’s in charge.”

“So it’s begun.” Replied Virgil. Michael remembered their conversation back in Blacksburg where Virgil had suspect Max might make a move against him or the club. Michael guessed that was behind the comment.

Michael looked over at Sarah nervously. She returned his stare, but seemed oblivious to the anxiety behind it. Michael then looked back at Virgil. “Yes, it has. I want you to put the club up for sale. Starting immediately.”

“Well, there’ll be no lack of buyers.” Virgil commented. “What about me?”

“I won’t leave you hanging, Virgil. You’re important to me. Whatever happens, whatever I do, you’ll be with me.”

“That’s appreciated. If I may be so bold, what are you planning to do?”

“I’m not completely sure yet. Going back to Roanoke might seem the logical course. But I’d be returning with Sarah right after I’ve newly embraced another childe there. It would make things really crowded, so I’m not sure that’ll work. I could stay, try to come up with some sort of counter-measure to Max’s new weapon. But that puts everyone at risk, including you. But if we go, we can’t just leave the club behind. Max’ll just seize via his government connections or something and we’ll get nothing. Best to sell it now.”

“And if we stay?”

“A lower profile is probably wise for the time being.”

“I’ll get right on it.” Virgil headed back out.

“It’s not like you to panic.” Commented Sarah.

“It’s not panic. It’s prudence.” Retorted Michael. “I don’t have a counter-measure against what Max is throwing at us and neither does Damian.”

“I can see them.” Said Sarah emphatically. “I’m your counter-measure.”

“Whole lot of good that did for Terra and the others.” Sarah winced at Michael’s words.

“That’s really unfair, Michael. No one, not even you, thought Max would move that fast.”

“But you can’t be everywhere at once.”

“I don’t have to be. I’m his next target.” She said calmly. “The Spy and I had a nice staring contest with one another the other night. They know I can see through their obfuscating powers.”

“God dammit, Sarah. Do you know the danger you put yourself in?”

“Don’t snarl at me like I’m some stupid mortal. I’m not afraid of them.”

“You should be. He killed Sammy, Terra, and Angelica. He killed three of Damian’s thralls. He killed Braden.”

“Thralls. Killing mortals is not the same as killing kindred. You know that.”

“And Francois. Did you forget about him? Big, tall, former knight templar, good with a sword, and scary enough to send shivers up Max’s twisted spine? He’s dead too.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“No, but I’m quite confident it’s true.” Michael had a brief remembrance of turning the Prince of Charleston to ash with one mighty blow. Killing kindred was not always as difficult as Sarah was presuming.

“Francois was no weakling like that fool.” Sarah was clearly reading his mind. “Neither are you and neither am I.”

“Get out of my head.” Michael growled angrily. Sarah usually didn’t do that without his permission.

She stood up defiantly. “I think I’ll go take Nikki up on her offer.”

“Now you’re just being obstinate. You yelled at me for being stupidly impulsive last night. What do you think you’re doing now?”

Sarah glared at him angrily. For a moment, Michael thought she would concede he was right and sit back down. But she didn’t. She headed out the door without another word.

Michael got up to go after her, to chase her down, and drag her kicking and screaming back into the office. There were a lot of things he liked about this new stronger and more confident Sarah, but she was much more stubborn than he remembered. But just as he reached the door, he found it blocked by a large blond man in a black suit.

“Mr. Allens, may I have a word.” Said the man politely.

“This is not a good time.”

“No, it never is.” Said the man firmly. Michael could see a woman behind him dressed in similar attire.

It was clear these new visitors were not going to take no for an answer. Michael could summon his bouncers and have them removed, but a quick measure of the pair told him that his large-but-amateur goons would be no match for these two. They oozed military training. “Fine.” Michael conceded. “Come inside the office.”

Michael marched back to his desk and sat down. He took more stock of the pair as they entered and stood before the desk. The man was tall, strong, and walked with discipline. Michael guessed his age at somewhere around 28 or 30. The woman was very attractive, black with mid-length curly hair. Full lips, buxom, but her charms were well concealed by the formal masculine suit that she wore. It was obvious from their manner and attire that these were government agents of some sort.

“I am Agent A and this is my associate Agent M. We’re part of Task Force Valkyrie.”

“You’d think you government types would dispense with the stereotypical getup.” Michael mocked.

“Well, we do have a reputation to uphold. Our agency is known among your kind as the ‘Men in Black.’” Said Agent A with a sly grin.

“Should I expect Will Smith to come through the door behind you?” Michael continued mocking.

“More like Tommy Lee Jones.” Retorted Agent A.

“Good.” Said Michael with a smile. “You have a sense of humor, something government types like you typically lack. What can I do for you, Agent A?”

“I’ll cut to the chase. We know what you are, Mr. Allens.”

“That’s an awfully big risk admitting that openly.”

“Given that you used some of our agents as bodyguards some years ago, I figured you’d be willing to at least listen to what I have to say. We have a mutual problem.”

“And that is?”

“My agency is tasked with containing and/or destroying any paranormal threats. Given the level of infiltration of your kind and others into human society, that’s a bit like trying to paint a battleship with a toothbrush. But if need be, we’ll bring the hammer down.”

“A hammer might do us some good right now.” Said Michael bitterly.

“Not when you’d be the first target.”

“Great. Get in line.” Snarked Michael in reply.

“I’d rather avoid that sort of unpleasantness if possible. Mr. Allens, I am a very pragmatic man. Yes, I could call down my agency on your city and sweep it clean of vampires, but most of you behave yourselves and we’d rather use those resources elsewhere. But one of you is not behaving himself and we do need to address that.”

Michael looked intently at Agent A. Given that he’d buried three bodies the night before and that at least four others were dead from The Brute’s opening rampage, he began to see some possibilities here.

“Are you waiting for my permission?” Michael was curious as to why they were coming to him at all. He had no position of authority anymore. As the proprietor of the nightclub, he was probably the most public of all of Tidewater’s kindred and perhaps that was the reason they had come to him.

“Not exactly.” Agent A answered. “I feel both your society and our agency would benefit from some open communication on this matter.”

“If you know anything about us, you know our highest law is keep ourselves hidden from the general populace. It’s less trouble for all of us. You don’t have to slaughter us like dogs and the humans don’t have to panic because they’ve discovered that there really are things that go bump in the night. If one of our number is breaking this law enough that you feel a need to get involved, I want to know.”

“That is precisely why I’m here. Our plan is to take this vampire captive and turn him over to you for justice.”

“Bring him before me.”

Agent A gave Michael a curt nod and headed out of the room. Michael grabbed his cell phone and dialed Damian Drake.

“Damian, it’s Michael. What can you tell me about Task Force Valkyrie?”

---

“How did I manage to get stuck with the stray?” Solomon growled at Julia. He’d pulled the bike to a stop outside his old beach house near Williamsburg. It had been many a year since he was here last, back when Michael and he were learning to deal with the chaos that followed the death of Lazarus.

“Oh, great.” Julia retorted sarcastically. “Sammy, Terra, Angelica all dead. Michael too caught up in his reunion to remember me. The monster than even monsters fear is hunting us and now you decide to be an asshole.”

“Don’t give Max more credit than he’s due.” Solomon grumbled. “Fear brings with it a choice. You can heed it or ignore it. By heeding it, you give Max power, which is precisely what he wants.”

“You’re awfully calm about all this.”

“Because I choose not to heed my fear. There’s always another crisis, another danger, another threat. In just the past ten years alone, I’ve faced down Mathias, The Djinn, Lazarus’s murderers, the Mad Bishop, Ernie, and countless other minor threats not worth mentioning. I’ve been shot, stabbed, beaten into torpor, chased out of cities. Heart-broken, burned out, you name it. I’ve been doing this for one hundred years now. Gets old.”

“Heart broken?” inquired Julia. “Now I somehow find it hard to believe that Michael’s burly bad ass mentor cares much about that sort of thing.”

Solomon shot her a look that could melt glass. Julia backed down. “Ok, forget I mentioned it.”

Solomon was quiet for a long moment, leaning on the bike and listening to the waves. Julia stood and waited. She didn’t want to be impolite and invite herself in to a haven that wasn’t hers, so she stood by patiently for Solomon to lead her inside.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad,” he started to say, “if she hadn’t said no. A lot of those crises I endured were for her. All for nothing.” He spat angrily on the ground. “Bah! Maybe they’re right. They say we kindred lose interest in mortal pleasures around the end of the first century. Food, drink, sex, romance, all go by the wayside. There’s probably a good reason for that.” He got off the bike and headed towards the house without a word. Julia followed in silence.

Solomon stepped inside and tossed the keys on the dusty end table. “It don’t look like much. It’s old, but most everything still works. The bedrooms are shuttered. No sunlight gets in. Pick one and you can stay here. At least until Michael gets his dick out of Sarah long enough to remember what he was going on about.”

“That sounds like envy to me.”

“Bad enough Michael dumps his whelp in my lap. You don’t need to be doing psychoanalysis on me to boot.” Solomon snarled.

“Look,” Julia lost her patience, “since we’re stuck together, I’ll make you a deal. Michael wanted your help in training me before things went south. You teach me how to fight like you did him and maybe I won’t be quite so annoying anymore. It’ll give you something to do to take your mind off how miserable you are. Because quite frankly, I’m none too happy Michael dumped me with you either, since all you do is bitch and complain about how lousy your life has become.”

Solomon gave her that melting-glass look again, but it softened after a few seconds. “Alright,” he agreed. “But I wasn’t easy on him and I won’t be easy on you.”

“Fair enough.” Said Julia, trying to not be intimidated by the thought of Solomon going full bore on her. “It might make you feel better to knock the piss out of somebody.”

“I was taught once,” said Solomon, his voice slipping back into its original Irish brogue. “to never hit a lady.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not a lady then. Do your worst.”

---

Michael sat impatiently in the foyer of Sarah’s mansion. After his conversation with Damian, Michael headed over to Nikki’s boutique. There, he kept an eye on things as Sarah and Elizabeth were doted upon by Nikki, spying on them all from across the street. He was furious with Sarah for storming out. Furious for putting herself in danger. Furious enough that he did not intrude on their festivities. Michael could have, he supposed, or maybe even should have. Who knows what might happen then? Another argument? Or would Nikki invite him to join her intended seduction? Neither another battle with Sarah nor a sexual dalliance with Sarah, Nikki, and possibly Elizabeth too were of any interest right now. Even Michael’s legendary lust had its limits.

It proved a boring night. No Brute sightings. No attack. Nothing out of the ordinary. As dawn approached, Michael departed, presuming that Sarah and her sister would leave almost immediately and be back at the mansion right after he was.

They were not.

Now a full day had passed. Michael’s imagination was running wild. What had happened? Had the Brute somehow gotten her in transit? Did he attack after Michael had left? Was she dead? Michael’s insides were twisting about in near-panic.

Two or three times over the past hour he talked himself out of going to look for her. He could drive back to Nikki’s shop and see if she made it, see if she was still there. If not, then what? The cities of Tidewater weren’t the biggest, but they were big enough that someone could easily disappear within, especially when someone WANTED you to disappear.

Michael bolted to his feet. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to try. He had to do something. But just as he walked the handful of feet to the front door, he heard a car pull up. He recognized Elizabeth’s Honda. They were back.

Michael didn’t know to be relieved or furious when he saw Sarah step out of the car with a bunch of shopping bags. The scene was so boringly normal, yet he’d spent the better part of two nights anxious for Sarah’s safety. He’d buried so many: Kris, Leigh, and now Sammy, Terra, and Angelica to boot. There could have been another name on that list, he knew: hers, or even his own.

Sarah marched inside. “We’re back!” she called out cheerfully.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” yelled Michael, his rage getting the better of him.

“Why, yes, I believe that is what makes a Malkovian a Malkovian.” Retorted Sarah, a nonchalant answer that stunk of her sire’s sense of humor.

Michael called her on it. “You sound like Ernie.”

“He wasn’t afraid.” Replied Sarah, going right for the heart of the matter.

“He’s a thousand years old.” Roared Michael. “And, in case you weren’t aware, I slew a thousand year old vampire myself in large part because he failed to be afraid of me. You’ve been kindred for less than 20 years. You are not the equal of The Djinn or Ernie in any way and Max knows it.” Michael paused to compose himself somewhat. “If Max’s brute had come for you, you’d be dead. Your sister would be dead. How could you be so selfish?”

“The Brute is not going to get the drop on me. I can see right through his invisibility. If I’d seen him, I’d have run. I’d have fled.”

“He could catch you.”

She pointed a defiant finger at him. “You don’t know that. Those voices in my head? They protect me. They see things my conscious mind misses.”

“Or they play tricks on you. Fooling you into thinking I’m there when I’m not.”

“For two years, those voices were all I had.” She grew angrier, standing up on her tip toes in a futile effort to look Michael in the eye. “They protected me from Max for those two years. Where were you? Living it up in Blacksburg, a new fuck-toy every night. I learned to survive without you. And I did just fine before you came, when I had Michelle and the Disciples breathing down my neck every night. With the streets crawling with creeps determined to rape girls that look like me. I learned to survive in that environment. Did you think there wasn’t danger then? Do you think this all began with you?”

Michael held his tongue. Sarah then let loose another fusillade. “And even if I had been cornered by one of Max’s thugs, you’ve never seen the full extent of my powers before, especially not the new ones. Yes, I AM a Malkovian now. But with the madness comes power. The Brute is simply that, a near mindless thug who follows orders and little more. I doubt he’d be much match to what I can do to his brain. Let’s see him chase me after I’ve given him a virtual lobotomy with nothing more than a gaze. I can do that now.”

She looked down at the bags, her own anger now spent. “I did this for you. You buried three of your favorites two nights ago and I wanted to help you forget.”

Michael wasn’t done. “I can’t afford to forget. You think this is like it was before. It’s not. Max is not Lazarus, who for all his bluster about morality and sin, gave you sanction to hunt those creeps. And Michelle was determined to humiliate you, not kill you. This is different now. You may not be afraid, but Max is. And THAT is what makes this so dangerous. He has ten times the power we do: physical, political, you name it. He’s in a vastly superior position but he hasn’t quite realized it yet. He’s like a woman frightened of a spider. All she needs to do is…” SMACK! He struck a nearby table with the flat of his hand. “…and we’re done. You, me, all of us.”

Sarah refused to meet his eyes. He reached out and took her by the chin and forced her to look at him. “I lost you once and, in losing you, I lost myself. I can’t do that again. It would kill me if Max…” His anger gave way to fear and he choked on the next word.

“I asked you to trust me.” She said flatly.

“And I do. But you can’t be reckless.” He motioned towards the bags. “And this was reckless.”

The two of them glared at one another for a long moment. Michael caved into his relief and scooped her into his arms. “Please don’t do that to me again. I’ve spent the past two nights sick to death in worry for you. I love you so much, Sarah Cobbler.”

She returned the embrace. “Michael, I was never in any danger. You were there.”

“You knew?”

“Of course. I always know when you’re near. The voices are silent.” She released him. “I wanted to show Max I wasn’t afraid of him. I wanted to help you forget the terrible things he’s done. I honestly did not intend to upset you, but you are not yourself right now. You are letting your fear get the better of you and you are giving Max an advantage he doesn’t need. You’re letting him win, just because Damian put it in your head that Max couldn’t be beaten this time. Did it not occur to you that your flying into panic benefits him too? Max isn’t the only one afraid of you. So is Damian and he’s playing you.”

She cupped his cheek in her hand and let it run down his face, pausing to play with the scruffy bit of beard at his chin. “We’re all so young. Infants really in the eyes of these elder kindred who think themselves our betters. While they may be stronger and more experienced, we are not powerless before them. Yes, the woman needs only remember she can squash the spider with a simple blow, but the spider also needs to remember that its venom is toxic and one bite in the right place…”

Michael nodded. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Don’t apologize.” Sarah said sternly. “It was reckless of me to go running off. You were right about that.”

“And you were right that I should not have panicked so easily. Take away the Brute’s invisibility and what is he? Another novice vampire, even more so than we are. I don’t care how big he is, one-on-one against me is no contest.”

“With my eyes and your steel, he’s no match. Remember that!” said Sarah forcefully. “But not now. I have things to show you. Things you’ll like…”

“So, I’m curious,” Michael began to ask. “You spent the night. Did you…”

Sarah blushed. “You should have come inside. It would have made things more interesting.”

“How so?”

“You would have…probably encouraged me when Nikki finally propositioned me. And that probably would have made me say yes. But as it was…”

Michael chuckled. “You turned her down? That I didn’t see coming.” He paused, a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t have cared. If anything, exploring that part of yourself would have made our relationship more interesting.”

“I’m not sure there is a ‘part of myself’ there to explore. I thought I was curious, but when the time came…”

Michael’s mind was cast back to the Homecoming Dance with Rebecca. Knowing what he knew now about her and her sexual orientation, he wondered if the reason she’d turned him down that night was the same dynamic, only in reverse. He chuckled to himself at the similarity. “Well,” he concluded. “maybe you just need to right person to do that exploration with.”

“Maybe. Still, the night was anything but a loss. I’ve got at least a dozen new sets of lingerie, all custom-fitted to my unique body shape. I’m dying to see what you think of them.”

“My lover in a sexy lingerie fashion show? Yeah, I’m game.”

----

Captain Alex McCoid let the van roll to a stop. He quickly disembarked, moving with military precision to the back of the vehicle. The other van pulled up beside his and the doors opened up, spilling out around a half-dozen of TFV’s finest commandos.

Alex opened the back doors of his van and pulled one of the rifles free from its wall-mounting. He’d been driving the team’s arsenal that night and now needed to brief his team.

“Alright, listen up, Team 32!” he barked to his troops. “We are here on the campus of LaRC, the Langley Research Center for NASA. Twenty-four hour personnel on site will be locked down the moment our operation begins. There is a high probability of a Extra Normal Entity on this campus as we speak, specifically a vampire of unknown capability.”

Alex looked about his troops for a moment, then held aloft the weapon in his hands. “This is a capture mission. Our weapon for the night is the XM8 assault weapons system. A prototype assault rifle, this is the latest and greatest iteration of the OICW that the good folks in the military-industrial complex are trying to slim down to a manageable size so they can replace our M-16s and M-4s. Our geniuses in the Quartermaster’s office have further modified these weapons for our mission tonight. It fires a standard-issue 5.56mm NATO round. Under slung below the barrel is a single shot wooden stake launcher for non-lethal takedown of any bloodsuckers we may encounter. The starlight scope up top has a special feature built in. When you pass the weapon over…” Alex demonstrated by pointing the unloaded weapon at one of his men. The weapon chirped. “…a humanoid target, it gives off an audible beep. If you are looking through your weapon’s sight and that beep goes off and you don’t see anything, you can bet it’s detected an invisible vampire. As we’ve learned, their power of stealth works by confusing the mind; they make you think they’re not there. With this weapon, they won’t be fooling us.”

Alex tossed the weapon to the first soldier in line. “Get your gear. Load up. We go out in search teams of two each. Mariah, you’re with me. Isaac and Ian, go to sector two. Mikail and James, sector three. Radio contact to be maintained at all times with check-ins every 5 minutes. If you see our target, radio it in and the rest of us will move to your position. This is a capture mission only. Zero body count.”

The soldiers nodded in reply. “Alright,” said Alex. “Let’s go to work.”

---

Dylan tapped a few keys quickly on the computer keyboard. He looked at the schematic on the screen and then at the partially assembled satellite a few yards away. He turned to the screen again and then back to the satellite. He swore under his breath.

Despite being an 80-year old vampire, Dylan had prided himself on being able to keep up with modern technology. The computer in front of him was no alien device; he understood its function and was easily able to access the design specs for the communication satellite. But still he remained baffled.

“Why would Prince Walsh want a communications satellite?” He asked in his mind. He tapped a few more keys. “I can’t find anything out of the ordinary on this machine that would make his interest obvious. He’s up to something, but what?”

A door opened quietly some distance away. A normal human would likely not have heard it, but Dylan was not a human. He flipped off the computer and turned his attentions to the interlopers. Probably local security, he guessed, looking to see who was in the satellite bay at this late hour.

The room was large, warehouse-like, housing numerous NASA projects: half-finished satellites, space probes, and planetary landers. Some were mock-ups and models, others were intended for actually use. All in all, there were billions of dollars of the United States budget in this room, as well as billions more in corporate sponsorship of joint projects. The satellite Dylan was investigating, for example, was partly owned and developed by the cable giant, Comcast.

He slid quietly across the walkway to the stairs. As he made to descend to ground level, he saw his pursuers. Two men in black fatigues with body armor and carrying assault rifles. These were not local security, but highly trained military personnel. And they were between him and the way out.

Dylan growled in frustration. He was not looking for a fight and killing or injuring these two would likely tip off Walsh’s minions that someone was snooping around Langley after him. He supposed, of course, that these soldiers were minions of a local Tidewater vampire. Or they could be legitimate government agents, but those distinctions might be moot.

Not seeing any alternative other than to fight, Dylan stepped off the stairs and slid down the metal banister to the floor. He drew out his bowie knife and made swiftly and quietly for the outer wall. With the room as cluttered as it was, it was easy for him to make his way about without detection. He darted into a small alcove on the wall and waited.

“Check-in. Team Three. No contact. At the Development Bay. Cap, request assistance. This place is too big for our team to sweep.” said one of the intruders into a headset microphone.

“Damn!” swore Dylan in his mind. He would have to work fast now. They’d called in support.

“Call it a hunch, but I don’t think NASA will be too happy if we start flinging bullets all over the place in here.” said the second intruder.

“It’ll come out of your pay.” said the first, only half-joking. Dylan stood still. They had almost reached his hiding place.

“Too many places to hide in here.” whispered the second intruder.

“Then we wait and keep it quiet. Their kind can hear a pin drop at 100 meters.”

“Their kind?” Dylan thought. No question now these were just some random security patrol. These guys were hunting vampires. Dylan sprang his trap.

Moving with preternatural swiftness, Dylan rushed from his alcove to the second chattier intruder. He struck with his knife. He rushed the attack, something his sire and mentor had told Dylan never to do, so the first blow hit the ballistic vest and went nowhere. The second blow was lower and hit soft flesh, stabbing into the soldier’s lower back.

Dylan tossed the bleeding soldier aside and then charged the other. He was bringing up his rifle, but was far too slow at this close range. Dylan knocked the rifle aside with his knife and gave the soldier a sharp backhanded blow. The trooper crumpled to the ground, out cold.

With these two dispatched, Dylan made for the exit. He was about three meters from the door when it opened again and two more soldiers entered. They spotted him immediately.

“Contact!” barked the first. His gun was already up and ready to fire, so all he needed do was pull the trigger. Even Dylan wasn’t fast enough to stop that. Bullets ripped through the air and tore through his flesh. Dylan staggered. These bullets HURT. Normally, that sort of attack would do little to his kindred anatomy, but Dylan found himself stunned from the pain.

The soldier took advantage of his hesitation to reach around and fire the weapon underslung on the assault rifle. Normally, that would be a grenade launcher but this was different. It launched a metal tube that burst open about a meter from the rifle to reveal a wooden spike. It struck home on Dylan, but missed his heart, planting instead in his left shoulder. The impact of the projectile nearly spun his body around, but Dylan quickly recovered and grew angry.

He rushed the soldier. As he closed, the soldier discarded his rifle, recognizing where the other had not its uselessness in close combat. Dylan swung with his fist and his knife, but was astonished that the soldier blocked both blows and then struck back himself with lightning speed. This soldier was a martial arts master, far superior to the vast majority of mortals, and might even prove a match for a kindred like Dylan.

Skilled he was, but he was still human and therefore weaker. While soldier blocked Dylan’s attacks, it was clear the battle of endurance favored the vampire over the human. Dylan struck again and again as the soldier sidestepped, dodged, and blocked each strike, getting in a few hits of his own to little effect. Dylan smiled. He was enjoying this.

“Now!” the soldier barked. Dylan felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked down to see a spike protruding from his heart. He realized his mistake. He’d overfocused on the skilled soldier, savoring the challenge, and had totally forgotten his companion. Dylan crumpled to the floor.

“Isaac, Ian, get over here fast. Mikail and James are down. Need medical assistance.” barked Alex McCoid into his microphone. “Target captured. He’s ours.”

---

Michael stirred awake the following night. He sat up and shook the last bits of daysleep from his body. He stood up and began to dress, looking down on Sarah as she too began to awaken.

Yes, they’d argued. Yes, they’d fought. But the two of them loved each other too much to stay mad forever. The sexy fashion show had gone a long way to reminding them of that and it wasn’t long before the new clothes were on the floor and the two of them were in bed together.

Michael now regretted his rashness in panicking before Max’s onslaught. He’d been too long out of the game. But then again, losing three of his harem was a blow, particularly Sammy, who had always been his favorite. Even now, as he got dressed for the night, he felt a terrible sadness missing the three of them. Max would pay for this somehow.

Elizabeth walked in without knocking. Michael didn’t mind. It was her house and her sister that she tended to. But it was Michael that she directed her attention.

“Virgil called on your cellphone around midday. He said the deal’s gone through.”

“Deal?” Michael wondered for the moment. “Oh, he got a buyer.”

“Ten million. It’s all arranged and he said the documents are at the Fox Club waiting for you.”

“Cool. Thanks for letting me know.”

“That happened faster than I expected.” Said Sarah with a frustrated tone. “I was hoping you’d reverse your decision to sell the place after our argument last night.”

“And I might have. But obviously there wasn’t time.”

“This is why it’s a bad idea to panic.” Sarah clearly wanted to get in one more dig in regards to their argument.

Michael wasn’t having it. “We already established that.” He said firmly. “I’m not interested in arguing that with you again. This is done. As I said to Virgil, there is a certain advantage to having a lower profile. By surrendering the club, I show Max an element of submissiveness, like a beta dog baring its throat to an alpha. And now I have ten million in the bank, a princely sum that I can use to reopen my other club and start over.”

“Reopen? You’re going to bring back the Fox Club?”

“Why not? It’s been a few years since the place was shut down, so its dark reputation is largely forgotten. It’s in Hampton instead of Virginia Beach, so again, a lower profile. As I said last night, Max is afraid of us. The more low-key we are, the more we mitigate that fear. Maybe keep him from murdering more of us.”

“So we dance to his tune.” grumbled Sarah.

“For the moment, he still holds the advantage. The Brute has to come to us for the two of us to take him down. Until that happens, Max remains vastly stronger than we are. Best to play his game for the time being. And part of that is admitting that he is the stronger.”

Michael knelt down on the edge of the bed and faced her. “Look, what’s done is done. Was it wise? Maybe not, but it is something we can make use of going forward. I, for one, would rather we not rehash this argument again. We made our points. Personally, I’d like to enjoy this night out there, having fun, living it up, and doing what you did these past two nights: showing Max how little we fear him.”

Sarah smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

---

Michael and Sarah drove first the distance from Chesapeake to Hampton to get the documents from the Fox Club. Everything was in order and a wire transfer of $10 million was made that afternoon to Michael’s bank accounts. Not a bad bit of profit for a club he’d gotten for a song five years earlier, back when it was little more than an abandoned ruin on a street corner of Virginia Beach.

From there, they made their way back to Virginia Beach and to Nightstyles, where they decided to enjoy the club as patrons rather than owners or managers. The bouncers out front had heard the news, as had most everyone who worked there that day: new owners, new management, and with it a bit of anxiety about what the future would bring. Would they change what worked in some well-meaning but foolish attempt to try something new? Would they fire the staff and hire on someone else? Michael had no answers for those at the door who asked him those questions, either directly or obliquely.

Michael made his way inside and headed towards the bar. Sarah parted company and sat at the far end of the bar and immediately ordered a drink to establish to all onlookers her “true” age.

“So, is what I hear true?” asked the bartender as he made his way over to Michael. Michael knew him, but not well. His name was...Charles? Carson? Something that began with a C.

“It is.” Michael answered. He then ordered his usual Captain & Coke. “Has Virgil been around today?”

“He was here when I came in around noon, but I’ve not seen him since. So what are you going to do now, boss, that the club’s been sold?”

Now that was a very different question than the ones asked by the bouncers outside. No self-concern, no worry about his own job. Just curiosity about Michael’s future. That was not the sort of thing Michael would have much cared about in any of his bosses, especially those he barely knew. There was something behind the question.

“I’m keeping my options open.” Michael admitted evasively. He glanced to the end of the bar, where he noted Sarah had already pulled in one inebriated college-aged guy, either a student on a road trip or someone on leave from one of the many military bases in the area. She was toying with him, he could tell, wrapping him around her finger with a cute smile, a full laugh, and occasional “accidental” peeks down her corset top.

Michael had to admit that people’s interest in Sarah was baffling to him. To him, she was always the adult woman trapped in a child’s body. He loved her for her mind and heart and had learned to find elements of her body attractive, even arousing. But that had taken work and deliberate effort; work he had done with eagerness, wanting to love the whole of who Sarah was, even if society would claim her physical attributes repulsive and attraction to such perverse.

The men who had swarmed about her the night of Max’s court and this poor soul now had done none of that effort. They knew nothing of her, only what they could see. Clearly, they saw things very differently than Michael did and in a very real sense, he envied them. To them, he guessed, she was a vibrant sexual young woman, whose physical attributes were somewhat lacking, but that was more than made up for by her confidence and (perhaps most important of all) her interest. To them, she was not all that different than dozens of other petite small-chested college girls that swarmed about these clubs each and every night.

Michael wondered to himself. Had he met Sarah the wild tattooed purple-haired woman first, instead of Sarah the reclusive conservatively-dressed child witch, would he have thought differently about her? Maybe, but he had no regrets. They were together again and although there were obvious changes, Michael could not have been happier.

“If Max truly wants to harm me, he’ll go for Sarah. And there’s our advantage.” he thought. "And my nightmare if he succeeds."

Michael turned his attention back to the bartender, who had since moved on to other customers. Michael wondered. How long had he been employed here? And who was his real employer? Nightstyles was not a massive operation, but it did have a reasonably sized staff to keep things running for the 14 or so hours each day it was open (Noon to 2:00am). Too many to reasonably enthrall, especially with Michael absent these past two years. With that, there were plenty of gaps for Max or anyone else to stick their own spies into the mix.

In the first few years after Max had assumed the throne, the unofficial title of “master of secrets” had passed to Damian. Now it seemed the Max had regained some of that back, perhaps in an effort to keep the Tremere in check. Would he plant one of his thralls in Nightstyles’ staff to spy on Virgil? Of course. So would Damian.

But what to do about him?

The simplest solution was to kill him. Max owed Michael for the deaths of his harem, so Michael relished the idea of bleeding this fucker. As satisfying as that might be, Michael knew he could also be wrong. This guy could be a spy for Damian, someone Michael could ill afford to alienate right now. Or someone else, again doing something to add to the number of Michael’s enemies was unwise. Or lastly, he could be completely innocent and his question was genuine; nosy perhaps, but legitimate.

Sarah stood up and took her friend by the hand to head towards the door. The trap was sprung. She would likely take him around the building to the alleyway and let him have his way with her. Or perhaps she would have her way with him. Hard to guess how she might approach their tryst, as the recipient or the aggressor? Either way, they would enjoy one another, Sarah would take her fill of his precious blood, and return to Michael when she was done. The thought of her being ravaged in a dirty alleyway filled Michael’s mind will all sorts of erotic imagery and he shifted in his seat as his pants got a little tighter.

The bartender took notice of him again, perhaps because he too had noted Sarah’s departure. Good little spy, that one, Michael thought. “Hey, if you or your girl want to use the upstairs for...well, you know...it’s open. The way I figure it, you owned this place for five years, brought it back from the dead. You’re entitled to a few privileges.”

Michael was now certain this was no innocent. The bartender knew exactly what Sarah had gone off to do and he was now giving Michael leave to do the same: to seduce, to feed, and to do it someplace out of the way and out of the knowledge of the dozens of club-goers milling about.

It was an offer of kindness and gratitude, but it also put the bartender in greater danger. Now Michael was considering making a meal out of him, but then he figured there was no easy way to manage that. It wasn’t like he could just mug the guy and drag him off in front of everybody. Nor did he think trying to seduce him would work very well, given Michael’s well-known reputation for interest only in the ladies. Besides, Michael admitted to himself, he wasn’t even sure if gay people flirted the same way. Where would he even start?

Michael smiled and nodded to the bartender. He would find his prey elsewhere and deal with this interloper at some other point. He asked for a quick refill on his drink, which the bartender provided, and then headed off to see what sort of luck he could have.

It didn’t take long. It never did. Vampire charisma carried a lot of weight and when Michael turned on the charm, even if it was just walking from one side of the room to another, people took notice. It didn’t hurt that he was a pretty attractive guy to begin with. His boy-band good looks may have worked against him in some areas, but when it came to nabbing a beautiful victim for a fuck and a feed, they were quite the asset.

“Hello, gorgeous.” said a woman boldly, stepping into Michael’s path. “Are you looking for someone?” The woman was around 40, Michael guessed. A bit older than most of the party-goers that usually graced Nightstyles. She was dressed in a halter dress that left her back bare and her cleavage very prominent. Her blonde hair looked fake, but she was not unattractive. Nor would she be if she hadn’t bothered with all the effort to do herself up. Everything about her screamed “midlife crisis,” but Michael didn’t mind. She was not his usual prey, but she was clearly eager.

“Maybe I’ve found her.” Michael replied slyly. The woman boldly reached out and took Michael’s drink from his hand. She took a swig for taste.

“Rum and coke. Aren’t you just adorable?”

Michael wasn’t sure what the critique of his drink choices was about, but he figured he’d run with it. “You have something better?”

“You could try this?” She reached behind her to a nearby table and grabbed a bourbon shooter. Michael took a sip. He liked bourbon, although he wasn’t as fond of it as he was of rum. Michael also figured this really wasn’t about which spirit was superior. He made a face and faked a hacking cough.

The woman laughed heartily. It was clearly the response she wanted, proof that she was in some way superior to this young buck. She was going to prove her youth, age be damned, by taking this innocent youth and doing all sorts of nasty things to him. Michael put on a mortified look, playing the game by her rules. She immediately intervened, running her finger seductively across his cheek. “You are just so cute. I could just gobble you up.”

Michael had a momentary flash of memory of his grandmother saying something like that to him when he was a small child. It was not a turn on, a far cry he was sure from what the woman was hoping to project. Seduction was inexact art even for him. A wrong word could easily spoil the mood, but there were also ways to get around that. Michael locked his eyes on her cleavage, making sure she knew where he was staring.

“I’m Janey, by the way.” she said, drawing his attention back to her face. Michael feigned embarrassment at having been caught staring. All part of the game. He was looking forward to getting a better look later. Her breasts were quite nice.

“Michael.” he offered. There usually wasn’t a need for formal introductions in this sort of circumstance, another seduction faux pas by the woman. Anonymity came with the territory. For these trysts and one night stands, you were a body, a fantasy incarnate, but not a person. Names made you human again and could ruin the illusion.

But she was clearly drunk and desperate, so Michael again ignored her clumsy efforts. After all, he wanted her at least as badly as she wanted him, although not entirely for the same thing.

“You like these, don’t you?” She said, shoving her breasts together to pronounce her cleavage all the more. Michael stuttered out an embarrassed affirmative. “Even a kid like you can see what that dumbass husband of mine couldn’t.” she growled. “Bastard.”

Strikes three and four. She brought in her drama and even insulted Michael to boot. Michael now figured he was better off finding prey elsewhere. Even he couldn’t fake interest after a seduction that inept. He picked up his drink from her table and was about to step away.

Janey grabbed his hand, clearly realizing she’d blown it. “Don’t go. Please.” she pleaded. “I’m just...” She let the words hang.

“Lonely.” Michael could fill in the blank. He knew that feeling all too well. But by admitting that, Janey had surrendered all her efforts at superiority and dominance. She was a cougar with no claws. Not anymore.

“Easy to be, when you’re in a room full of strangers.” Michael replied smoothly. “I know the owner. There’s a quiet place upstairs where we can be alone and talk.”

She polished off her drink and let him lead her by the hand up the stairs. Michael made his way to the office door. He pulled out his key and unlocked it. He opened it and politely motioned for Janey to go in first.

Michael’s mind registered the scene inside the room about a tenth of a second before Janey’s bloodcurdling scream tore through his ears. On the loveseat was the blood-soaked brutalized body of Virgil, murdered in the same way as Terra and the harem girls before him.

Michael walked over to the body. Janey was long gone, having bolted right after her scream. Pinned to Virgil’s shirt was a note.

You clearly didn’t take my new laws seriously enough. The wolf and the wizard are next if you do not learn to obey. - M

Michael sent a mental summons to Sarah and then began to think about how he might get the body out of there without notice. There were no blankets or throws about large enough to hide even an average-sized man like Virgil.

“Not your work, I hope.” said a voice behind him.

Michael spun about to find himself face-to-face with Agents A and M from TFV again. Slung over his shoulder was a black body bag, clearly carrying someone inside.

Michael’s mind registered several things at once. First was how strong Agent A was, being able to carry dead weight the size of a human body so easily. Second was the question of how they got inside Nightstyles with that body bag without notice. Third was the fact that the body in the bag was clearly not large enough to be The Brute as Michael had hoped. Fourth was the foolishness of that hope in light of the dead thrall on the loveseat behind him.

“No,” said Michael coldly to Agent A’s original question. “Someone’s sending me a message in the form of one of my most loyal servants.”

“Not my concern.” said A bluntly. “This one is.” He dropped the bag roughly to the floor.

“I had hoped,” Michael began, “that the one you were hunting was the one responsible for sending me these messages. Obviously, I was wrong.”

Sarah appeared in the door at that moment. Her mouth was red with blood and Michael detected a bit of another bodily fluid as well. “Why the...” she began to ask. Then she saw him. “Virgil! Oh, God.”

“Max has struck again.” Michael summarized.

Realizing that Michael was not alone, Sarah stepped inside and wiped her mouth with her arm, doing her best to disguise what she’d been doing outside. She stood next to Michael and faced the two TFV agents.

“Still,” Agent A continued. “I promised you a prisoner. Do with him as your law demands, but I want him and everyone else of your kind nowhere near Langley again. Is that understood, Mr. Allens?” Agent A spoke with the stern tone of a practiced military man.

“It is.” Michael replied. With that, the two agents departed.

“What’s going on? Who were those two?” Sarah asked.

“I had visit the other night from those two, agents of Task Force Valkyrie, the government agency that guards against supernatural threats like us.”

“Such a thing exists?” asked Sarah with astonishment. “The Masquerade...”

“Yes, Damian introduced me to them a long time ago. Used some of their men to guard us after we helped him with his rogue lich servant. Now they’ve come knocking because one of us has been snooping around Langley Air Force Base.”

“Lazarus had a great deal of influence over the security apparatus at the Naval Yards.” reminded Sarah. “It’s not unheard of for kindred to meddle in military affairs.”

“Maybe Lazarus was just better at it than Max. He was better at covering his tracks so to avoid this sort of retaliation.” Michael knelt down and unzipped the body bag.

Inside was the rigid corpse of a black-skinned vampire. He was dressed in an oriental style jacket and pants that made Michael think of a martial artist of some sort. Driven through his chest was a wooden stake, holding him immobile. His hands and feet were bound with iron manacles, too strong for most vampires to break.

“You presume this was Max’s doing.” said Sarah.

“Do you not recognize him?”

“No, but that’s not saying much. There are a lot of new kindred in the city that are unknown to me. I lived in hiding for much of these past two years, remember?”

“We need to get him out of here.” said Michael. “There’s no telling what that woman will say or do after seeing Virgil like that.”

“Woman?”

“Some club tramp I brought up here to fuck and to bleed.” snarled Michael with disdain. “She saw his body and freaked the fuck out.” He zipped up the bag again and pulled it onto his shoulder. With his vampire strength, it was a far easier feat than it had been for Agent A. “Best use the roof. I’m sure that’s how they brought him in.”

Sure enough, when Sarah peeked out the door, she could see one of the roof access hatches had been opened recently and was now not quite completely closed. Michael headed for the small closet in the far corner of the office. It concealed a ladder up and was far easier to manage than the hatches would be.

Together they managed to get their prisoner up onto the roof and then down to the alleyway. Michael went and fetched the Falcon and they were on their way about the time the police arrived to shut down the club for the night. A murder had been committed after all.

Max would no doubt find a way to manipulate the police and the media to report that it was a jilted lover or a fired employee or some such to explain Virgil’s death. He would probably not go as far as Lazarus once did, shutting down the club for good because of a bad reputation and morally questionable goings-on within. Even if he did, it wasn’t Michael’s problem anymore.

“Virgil was afraid this was going to happen. Guess it really was just a matter of time.” Michael mused aloud as they drove south towards Sarah’s mansion.

“I brought this down on us.” Sarah admitted with guilt in her voice. “I flaunted Max’s laws because I don’t fear his minions. Now Virgil is dead because of it.”

“This isn’t about you or me. It’s about Max and him alone. He instituted those laws knowing we were in violation of them from the start. All he had to do was wait 24 hours to bring the hammer down and that’s pretty much what he did. The only way to avoid that was to cut off everything immediately. You and me, split up. Mitch and Boar abandoned and in the dark as to why. Your coven dumped without explanation. There’s no way that’s reasonable, there’s no way we would have done any of that, and Max knew it. He engineered it this way.” Michael paused as several emergency vehicles raced past on the road. He glanced ahead and could see the glow of a major fire some distance away. “And he’s not done.”

Sarah realized what Michael was looking at. “No...” she muttered. “He didn’t...”

Michael slammed his foot down on the accelerator, bringing the old 1970s sports car engine to life. The car that had been the infamous “Interceptor” in the Mad Max movies roared down the road, chasing after the emergency vehicles whose destination was now all too clear: Sarah’s mansion.

The fire was beyond out of control when Michael and Sarah arrived. Even with it yards away, their Beasts surged in fear of the flames. “No...no...no” was all Sarah could muster to say as they watched the house burn.

“We’d best get to the Fox Club.” said Michael, his voice even and pragmatic.

“How did he find it? How did he know where it was? MY SISTER! MY PEOPLE!” Sarah’s dumb shock gave way to inconsolable grief. She burst into tears as Michael pulled away from the nightmarish scene.

Next Chapter