Act Three Chapter One - It’s No Good

“Okay, I want the bass to pop when we hit the drums, just like on the album.” Michael instructed the sound board tech. He then moved quickly to his keyboard. “Ready. 1…2…”

Michael ran his fingers across the keys rapidly, enjoying the sound of the music as he began to play. Behind him, on drums, was his old friend from both Blacksburg and Virginia Beach, Blaze. When Michael had gotten the idea to put together a band for the grand opening of Club CRASS, he decided to track down his old bandmates. He quickly discovered that Bob had sadly died of a heart attack last year and Blaze had moved to Wilmington, Delaware, only an hour or so away. That was too perfect an opportunity to pass up. Now, at his cue, Blaze began to play and the whole room began to shake with the thundering bass.

“Yeah!” Michael exclaimed. “That’s it.”

Rebecca, the bassist Jared, and the young woman Erin on guitar all came in for their part. Rebecca had hired the latter two by putting out a want ad in the local alt newspaper. Then, Rebecca began to sing.

I'm going to take my time

I have all the time in the world

To make you mine

It is written in the stars above

The gods decree…

Hearing the words of a Depeche Mode song sung not with a male voice like Dave Gahan, but rather Rebecca’s sultry alto gave Michael almost as many goose bumps as the bass pop. This was going to work. This was going to be a hit.

Michael had not touched a musical instrument in years. It had been Rebecca’s suggestion that they put a band together for opening night. Michael complained, knowing how out of practice he was. But Rebecca recruited Sarah to her side; not a difficult task given that Sarah had never seen Michael perform before and curiosity was a good motivator. So Michael gave in and began practicing.

Michael had been busy these past three months. With his and Rebecca’s ascension to the primogen council, Walsh refused to call a meeting out of spite. So with no vampire business to keep him occupied, Michael focused on five things: reasserting his control of the western neighborhoods and suburbs he’d gained in his first months in Philadelphia, working on his “trinity” relationship with Sarah and Rebecca, overseeing the construction of Club CRASS, expanding his influence with his Carthian allies, and working on getting his keyboard skills back up to snuff.

The song came to an end and Michael looked over at Mitch, who had been listening. Mitch gave a thumbs up. Michael turned to his band mates. “That sounded really good. You guys think so?” They agreed. “Excellent. I think that’s enough practice for tonight. I think we’re ready for Saturday.”

The band came off the stage, grabbed water bottles and bits of conversation with those that had been watching their practice. Michael moved over to the sound board, thanking the tech, and then turning to Mitch.

“Really sounded good, didn’t it?”

“I never had any doubt.” His face gained a clever smile. “Except for you maybe. You seemed distracted through most of these practices.”

“Got a lot on my mind.” Michael admitted. “That and Rebecca’s friends aren’t helping. Erin is seriously fuckable and then there’s that Cuban firecracker Becca’s put in charge of our Los Angeles bouncers.”

“Delia? She’s not hard on the eyes, but she’s got a heart of stone and cold as ice. She’s more likely to bite your dick off than suck it. Besides, she’s kindred and the last thing you need is Sarah blowing her stack with you over that. As for Erin, given Rebecca’s proclivities, I’d bet real money she bats for the other team.”

“Only one way to find out.”

---

Military strategy would normally prescribe that a sneak attack by infantry or commando forces be conducted at night, when darkness can be your friend and ally. For weeks however, Boar had watched the old stone building that had once been St. Agnes, an abandoned Catholic chapel on the edge of Fairmount Park. Now it was the “club house” or “headquarters” of the Ashwood Abbey. Like many shadowy organizations, they conducted most of their business at night, when darkness could be their ally. During the day, the building was much quieter, guarded by a number of hired thugs with only a few Abbey members coming and going. Daytime had proven to be when the Abbey would be most vulnerable.

The Abbey had “owned” St. Agnes since they’d wiped out the werewolf pack that had previously laid claim to it and its nadhar, a place where the boundary between this world and the spirit realm was thin and permeable. Such nadhar were holy places to werewolves (and often coveted by mages as well) and the Abbey’s control of this one had long been an insult to the werewolves of the city. Boar knew that if they could reclaim the nadhar from the Abbey, they’d finally win the respect of the other packs.

He’d spent these three months drilling and training his pack for this moment. Long looked down upon by their peers, the North Fairmount Pack had proven a challenge. Courage and confidence were in short supply, but Boar had slowly and surely given them back their strength and sense of self. They were ready.

And now, the whole pack was lining the woods around the old church building, waiting for Boar’s signal.

Boar raised his hand, a quiet signal to his wolves. The guards were armed with submachine guns and those were likely loaded with silver bullets, so Boar had spread his wolves out along the perimeter to avoid multiple casualties from a single burst of auto-fire. Each of the wolves in turn raised their hands, sending the signal down the line.

Boar dropped his arm and instantly morphed into dire wolf form. He charged from the treeline towards the church. His wolves got his signal and charged after him. The guards responded immediately and opened fire. As Boar had suspected, these thugs had been conditioned against Lunacy; the instinctual fear of the werewolf in every human would be no help here today.

Boar leaped into the air as the earth beneath his feet was chewed up by a burst of gunfire. He bounded on top of the guard and tore out his throat with a vicious bite. Cortez struck the guard opposite and did likewise to him. The heavy wooden doors to the church slammed shut and Boar could hear them being barricaded on the inside. Cortez morphed into massive ferocious battle form and slammed his fists against the door like a battering ram. As a warrior, he had more raw physical strength than Boar in battle form and better suited to force their way inside.

Two more powerful blows and the door caved inward. Boar, Janice, and several others immediately shape-shifted to their normal wolf form. Although smaller and weaker than the dire wolf, they were also more agile and able to slide into the measly gap Cortez had opened.

The interior of the church was a blasphemous mockery of the place of worship that it had once been. There were no furnishings. The floor was littered with pillows and rugs, with the occasional hookah. The whole place stank of marijuana and opium. Two Abbey members were on the far side of the nave, naked and involved in some manner of fetish play that the werewolves’ arrival had interrupted. Between them and the wolves were several more guards.

Now it was Boar’s turn to unleash his fury. He morphed into battle form and the three other wolves with him followed his lead. The guards opened fire, bringing down one of the wolves. Boar tore the guard nearly in half with a single blow of his claws.

The battle was over in seconds. The handful of humans, caught off-guard against a superior number of werewolves, were simply no match for Boar’s pack, no matter what their weapons were. Bodies were torn to pieces as the pack vented their rage upon those poor unfortunate souls.

Boar felt little sympathy for the Abbey members and their lackeys as they died. They had wealth and freedom the likes of which nearly everyone would envy, and they used it to pursue wanton pleasures forbidden to ordinary people. Drugs, murder, and perversion were their trade and they hunted the dark minions of the night for no other reason than sport. The Malleus Malificarum and other hunter groups were at least honest in their hatred. Boar could respect them, but not the Abbey.

He morphed back to human form as the last Abbey member was dispatched. “Burn it down.” He ordered.

“Stone won’t burn.” Said Janice, pointing out the obvious.

“Of course not, but let the ruin stand as a message to all who would try to claim this place from us again.”

Cortez whistled to the other wolves. “You heard him. Go fetch the gasoline.”

Within minutes, the fires began to consume the interior. There wasn’t a whole lot of fuel to consume, just the bodies and the various accouterments of the opium den that the Abbey had turned the place into. But as the wolves as a group stood back and watch, the fire grew stronger and stronger.

“Something’s wrong.” Said Janice. “The fire shouldn’t be that big.”

“We’ve awoken something.” Said Boar.

Meghan, the pack’s shaman, stepped forward. “It’s an elemental spirit of fire. It’s come through the nadhar into this world.”

“That shouldn’t be possible!” said Cortez.

“But it is. Look!”

Sure enough, a vaguely humanoid form could be seen dancing in the midst of the flames, fueling them higher and hotter and, in turn, being fueled by them.

“We have to stop it. Send it back!” growled Cortez.

“We don’t have the weapons to fight that.” Said Boar.

“It’ll keep growing until it consumes the whole glade and perhaps the woods beyond.”

“I know. Call the fire department.”

“This is not a mortal problem. You’ll endanger them and us by bringing them into this.”

“We have no choice. They have the equipment to battle the fire. If the fire is put out, the spirit will be weak. We can then come in and finish it off before it escapes to cause more mischief. Go. Call 911.”

Cortez pulled out his cell phone and dialed for emergency services. Boar turned to Meghan. “You keep an eye on it. If it tries to escape while the fire company is battling the fire, let me know.”

With that, Boar shifted into wolf form and headed to the woods to hide. The other wolves, save Cortez and Meghan, did likewise.

Within minutes, the fire department was on the scene. Cortez and Meghan played the part of a couple of casual park-goers who’d stumbled onto the blaze and called it in. They stood back and watched as the firefighters went to work, oblivious to the supernatural nature of the fire before them.

Supernatural or not, the fire responded to the cold dousing of hundreds of gallons of water the way any fire would. The spirit that dwelt within those flames was not happy with this new development and it fought back. To the firefighters, the fire began to react unpredictably, but to the wolves who observed from afar, they could tell the spirit was fighting back. Spurts of flame began to shoot out the church’s windows in random and unexpected ways, almost always nearly striking a firefighter. But for all its efforts, the spirit was getting weaker. It was losing this battle and it knew it.

So it fled, rushing from the chapel towards the nearby woods. No doubt hoping to set them alight and refuel itself. To ignorant observers, this retreat looked again like a random and unexplainable burst of flame, only towards the woods this time. Meghan saw it for what it was and cried out. Boar heard her cry and was on the move immediately.

Boar shifted from wolf to wolfman form and tackled the spirit. Its skin was flame and it burned when he touched it, but thankfully a single swipe of his claws across its throat caused ended it as weak as it now was.

“That shouldn’t have happened.” Said Boar to Meghan as she ran up to them. Behind them, the firefighters continued to fight the last of the blaze, ignorant to the spiritual battle that had just taken place on the fringes of their sight.

“Agreed. Fire elementals are usually weak. They only exist for a tiny moment when a flame bursts to life. They have far too little power to come across even at a nadhar. So something either made that one stronger than normal…”

Boar looked down at his burnt hand. “It died from one blow, so not likely.”

“…or something weakened the barrier here even further.” Meghan paused. “Let me try something.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. A second later, she vanished.

She reappeared almost immediately. “I shouldn’t be able to do that. The actual nadhar is one hundred yards that way.” She pointed across the glade, behind the old church. “This far away from it, I shouldn’t be able to enter the spirit realm and yet I just did.”

“So the barrier is weaker. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but it’s probably not good.”

---

Erin was not “batting for the other team” or was, at least, like Rebecca, open to batting for both teams. As the band called it a night, Michael chased Erin down and invited her for drinks. That led to a confession that Erin had always found Michael attractive. With that admission, Michael knew dinner was about to be served.

The upstairs office of Club CRASS was now finished and furnished. Among those furnishings was a Murphy bed along the one wall. Michael broke it in by ravaging an eager and willing Erin for hours.

Dawn came, Erin left, and Michael slept. When the sun set once more, he made his way to his computer and checked his email. Most of the missives involved the upcoming debut of his club: supply deliveries, payroll manifests, and the like. Everything seemed to be in order. But there was also one email that stood out from the rest.

It was from Deborah.

All is arranged. Abandoned hotel at 1245 Harrisburg Pike. 2:00am on 3/18

“About time.” Michael muttered and he reached for his cell phone.

---

Brother Frances Cane knelt before his superior in the Malleus Malificarum, Andre Renauld. “I must confess my failure. I was unable to destroy the spirit haunting St. Sophia Church.”

“Saint Michel spoke true.” Grumbled Renauld. “The forces of darkness are rallying. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, witches, all of them seem to be coming out of the woodwork in droves. It is regrettable that you were unable to dislodge this poltergeist, but not surprising. Evil is growing stronger.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I have taken the liberty of summoning Brother David Hemmingway from Boston. I will submit to his authority and his expertise in these matters.”

“The Grand Inquisitor from the Archdiocese of Boston? Are things truly that dire?”

“Our numbers are small, but the Lord provides. Brother Hemmingway knows as much about the dark servants of Satan as any man alive. We need his help. He will be here soon, perhaps within the hour.”

A knock came at the door of Renauld’s chambers. “Brother Renauld, a visitor for you.”

“Well,” said the monk with a smile. “how is that for timing?”

Renauld and Cane both made their way to the front antechamber of the monastery. There, they found a young man in his late 20s in Dominican robes carrying a suitcase. Renauld and Cane exchanged glances. This was not the Grand Inquisitor, but an unexpected visitor.

“I am Brother Andre Renauld.” Said Renauld in introduction. “And you would be?”

“David Hemmingway.” Said the young man.

Renauld’s surprise was obvious on his face. “I was…well, not expecting the Grand Inquisitor of one of our largest diocese to be so young.”

“Age is no indicator of experience.” Replied Hemmingway. “I have seen more of evil in my short lifetime than even the likes of you, Brother Andre. Shall we talk about your problem?”

“Yes. Brother Cane, could you take Brother Hemmingway’s belongings to his room while we discuss our issues.”

Cane took Hemmingway’s suitcase and scurried off. Renauld gestured for Hemmingway to follow.

“So, you have a vampire problem?”

“Vampire, ghost, wizard, werewolf, you name it. As I said to my charge just a few short minutes ago, they seem to be all coming at us at once.”

“When did this begin?”

“Saint Michel came to be in a vision back in November and called me to begin hunting for a group of vampires. He provided photographs to help us find them.”

“Saint Michael, the archangel, gave you photographs?” scoffed Hemmingway incredulously. “You gullible fool, Renauld, no wonder you cannot overcome this evil. It’s using you.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Lucifer is the Morning Star, an angel of light. Or was before his fall and yet that is still his preferred method of dealing with mortals. Did it never occur to you that an agent of evil might take the archangel’s form in order to manipulate you?” Hemmingway moved in on Renauld in an intimidating manner. “If God wanted you to know the identity of a vampire, would he not have put a vision of his likeness in your mind rather use such crude methods as a mere photograph?”

“It is not my place to question the work of the Almighty.”

“A mindset that the devil uses to his advantage. You want to know why a man just shy of thirty is a Grand Inquisitor? It is because I take to heart the words of St. Paul: Test every spirit, reject evil, and hold fast to what is good. By doing that, I have uncovered more demons in mortal guise than Inquisitors twice my age.” Hemmingway softened. “Evil destroys its own. That is one of its marks. A devil is as likely to kill one of its own kind as ally with them. This angel that came to you is likely some manner of monster in disguise and is using you to root out his enemies. Show me these photographs.”

Renauld took Hemmingway into his chambers and pulled out the photographs. “We attacked a group of them and nearly destroyed them. But we were interrupted by one of their bodyguards, who nearly gunned us down.” Renauld rubbed his chest. “A bulletproof vest is a wonderful invention, but my ribs are still tender where the bullets hammered them.”

“They use mortal servants, the wayward and the ambitious as allies and protectors. Clearly you forgot that too.” Growled Hemmingway. He sifted through the photographs, pausing when he chanced upon the shot of Michael Allens.

“He was one of the ones we attacked.” Said Renauld. He looked up at Hemmingway, only to see the Grand Inquisitor was white as a sheet, his face contorted in shock and surprise.

“Brother David, do you know this creature? Have you crossed paths with him before?”

Hemmingway regained his composure. “No, I’ve not. He merely resembles someone I once knew.” He then scooped up the photographs and put them in the pockets of his robes. “Gather your hunters. I want a full accounting of their deeds over these past few months and of all reports of demonic activity in your city. Let us meet after the hour of Vespers, say 8:00pm?”

“As you wish. I will send out the word.”

“In the meantime, I would like to see my quarters.”

“This way.”

Cane had dropped off Hemmingway’s affects like the dutiful monk he was. After Renauld departed, Hemmingway fetched his cell phone from his bag. “Question is, do I remember that number?” He thought. He started punching in numbers from memory, uncertain if his memory was sound.

The phone rang on the other end and was answered. “Mrs. Allens? I don’t know if you remember me, but this is David. I was a friend of your son, Michael. I was hoping to get in touch with him…Oh, how tragic. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

---

Michael leaned back on his sofa. A naked black teenager in glasses was enthusiastically bouncing up and down on his cock.

“Tell me something, Michael.” she stuttered out between gasps of pleasure. “Who’s better? Naomi or me?”

“That’s a...” Michael grunted out, his building climax making it hard to think straight. “...a dangerous question.” He erupted, bringing sweet release and a clearer head. “You.” He answered after a moment. “But don’t tell your sister that.”

“My lips are sealed.” she said with a grin, climbing off of him. She began to gather up her things, getting dressed.

“Thanks again for yesterday.” she said. “I owe you one. Another one.”

“Not really. It’s the way I do things.” said Michael softly.

The girl’s name was Cecilia. Part of Michael’s plan to further cement his alliance with his Carthian allies was to rid their gang, Los Angeles, of its competition. Most of that competition came in the form of an African-American gang known as the Ninth (named for the street on which the gang founder, now long dead, had lived.) The Ninth controlled drugs, protection rackets, and prostitution in the streets north of Fairhill where Los Angeles ruled. Moving north had always been their goal, so Michael decided to help out.

Given the Ninth’s control of prostitution rackets in North Philly, Michael started there. He hit one of the Ninth’s brothels looking like a million bucks. It was a risk, playing up his wealth among criminals like that, but he was confident he could handle any muscle they sent after him. The ploy worked beyond his wildest hopes. He met Naomi that night.

Naomi had apparently been looking for someone who could help her with a problem and Michael fit the bill. She spilled out her story when they were alone, before they could even negotiate whatever sex act he, as her john, had come to receive. She was a runaway, fleeing a physically abusive stepfather and a drunk mother. She started working the streets, but hadn’t counted on her younger sister to come looking for her. That was when the trouble began.

Cecilia, Naomi’s sister, found her. She also found the Ninth, whose current leader, a black hispanic thug named Calvera, took a liking to Cecilia. He made her his, not really giving her a choice. Naomi was beside herself with the thought of what Calvera was doing to her little sister and wanted a way to get Cecilia out.

Michael asked her why she thought he’d be the one to help her. She answered honestly. “You are either an idiot to come down here flashing all that cash in front of these creeps or a genuine bad ass who’s not going to be afraid of the likes of Calvera. If you’re the first, you’ll be dead in an hour and none of what I’ve told you will matter. If you’re the other, you can help me.”

Michael didn’t follow up with the obvious “why should I care” question. This was the opening he needed. Naomi told him where to find Calvera. So two nights later, Michael marched into the Ninth’s “headquarters,” armed like Neo from The Matrix and made short work of the gang’s leadership. He reunited Cecilia with her sister and then made his pitch to the gang’s prostitutes.

They could leave or work for him. If they left, they had to leave sex work behind completely; Michael would not tolerate competition from independent operators. If they stayed, he would take care of them. Decent housing, medical care, and he would do this while taking a smaller cut of their take. If they decided to leave later, Michael would connect them with either Pastor Gaines or Father DeGrassi, again with the stipulation to never work the streets again. Some decided to leave, but most didn’t know any other life and decided to stay.

Naomi stayed and much to her annoyance and astonishment, so did Cecilia. The younger girl had been bookish and awkward for much of her childhood and she found being desired by men somewhat empowering. That, and she was no more eager to return to their abusive home than Naomi was. So she stayed on.

Michael made good on his word on how he was going to treat the girls. That was what brought Cecilia to his apartment this night. Over the past few days, Naomi had taken ill, probably from working the streets wearing far too little clothing in the winter cold. Michael had arranged to get her a doctor to tend to her illness and Cecilia showed up tonight to offer herself in gratitude, Michael graciously accepted.

As Cecilia finished getting dressed, Sarah and Rebecca walked into the room. “Good,” said Sarah flatly, a slight hint of disdain on her voice. “You’re done.”

“It’s time to go.” added Rebecca.

Michael gave Cecilia a playful swat on the bum, using it to push her towards the door. She got the hint and headed out. “I’m ready.” Michael said. He gathered up his coat and followed his lovers out the door.

“First day of spring tomorrow, but you wouldn’t know it.” grumbled Sarah as they headed over to Michael’s Falcon. “Damn this cold snap.”

“How’s Naomi?” asked Rebecca.

“Doing better. That’s why Cecilia was here.”

“I’m still not completely comfortable with this whole plan to control the prostitution rackets in the city.” said Sarah as they climbed into the car. “It plays into Monroe’s desires.”

“Which is precisely why it’s a good idea.” retorted Michael, starting up the car. “Monroe is likely to support us in this endeavor, since it aligns with his vision.”

“Yeah,” continued Sarah, bringing up the real reason it bothered her, “but it gives you another harem of nubile beauties to fuck at will.”

Michael leaned over and kissed her. “You know that I will always come back to you.” He ran his tongue across his lips after breaking the kiss; he could taste Rebecca on her. “Besides, you found your own way of keeping busy while I was with Cecilia.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” said Michael, keeping an even tone and trying to prevent this from escalating into another argument. “Becca takes other lovers and you don’t complain about her.”

“Honestly, Sarah, you’d be free to do that too.” added Rebecca. “Neither Michael nor I would mind if you had someone else on the side.”

“I’m not Daeva. It’s not my way.” Sarah retorted. “And I really hate it when the two of you gang up on me like this.”

“That’s not what we’re trying to do.” said Michael. “Sorry if it feels that way.”

“Living together and loving one another like we do isn’t easy.” added Rebecca sympathetically. “You know we love you and you know we don’t do these things to hurt you.”

“I know.” conceded Sarah. “But you’re right. It’s not easy being with the two of you. And I wish you two would realize it more often.”

“We do. Because the truth is, it’s not easy for any of us.” said Michael. “Trying to make this work with all three of us together takes patience. Forgiveness. And a certain willingness to endure inadvertent wounds we inflict on one another by accident.”

“You make it sound like a normal relationship.” teased Rebecca.

“Normal relationships aren’t made up of three people with two of them defined and enslaved to their lusts.” Grumbled Sarah. “Why I would fall for the both of you, knowing that’s part of who you are is a mystery to me.”

“You are not so different, dear Sarah.” Retorted Michael. “We were an hour into our first meeting when you gave me the demand to fuck you in exchange for your help with Pastor Ian. You fed off the lustful worship of your coven in Tidewater. And I’ve seen the way you touch our prey when we hunt together. Lust is a part of you too. You should be more honest about it.”

Sarah darkened and grew quiet. What Michael said was the truth, but she was not yet comfortable with it.

Their destination tonight was Carlisle, or more specifically Middlesex township, the intersection of I-81 and the Turnpike. Not long after Michael’s visit to Monroe’s island, he sent an email to Deborah in Roanoke. One line: “Did you know?”

Deborah’s reply didn’t answer the question, but Michael could tell she understood him. “We need to meet.” It said. The follow-up to that was what had arrived the night after the band practice. It had taken over two months to arrange that meeting. Face-to-face at the intersection of the road that lead south to Roanoke and the road that led east to Philadelphia.

It was a 90 minute or so drive from Michael’s apartment in Conshohocken to Carlisle. As they traveled, Sarah lightened up and their conversation grew more casual. Sarah talking about how things were going with her new occult bookstore and her Wicca coven at Villanova. Rebecca was trying to arrange musicians for a live show of her own at Studio Gothic.

But as they drew closer to their destination, all three of them grew more somber. Michael had not told Rebecca much about Monroe and his role in their origins, but he had shared that those secrets would be revealed tonight. Michael was tense, wondering how she’d react to what Deborah might tell them. Rebecca was tense, not knowing what she was going to learn tonight. And Sarah was tense for the both of them.

Middlesex township was one of those places along America's highways that only existed for the sake of roads that traveled through them. It was nothing but motels, truck stops, and fast food restaurants, all there to service the travelers that were using the two major highways that intersected there. It was place of withering competition and businesses often came and went almost overnight.

As Michael pulled off the turnpike, paying his toll, he drove toward one such place, a currently vacant and bankrupt motel along US Route 11, not far from I-81. Deborah and Michael had both been in conversation with the hermitage Prince of Harrisburg, requesting her permission to have this meeting on the outskirts of her territory. She’d arranged the venue for them, along with the stipulation that they not enter Harrisburg proper or that they hunt while in Carlisle.

Those terms were acceptable, so now Michael pulled his car into the parking lot of the abandoned motel. He immediately went to the place where the Prince of Harrisburg had said the key could be found. The Prince proved good to her word.

“We’re here first. No surprise I suppose, given how far they have to come.” said Sarah, flipping on the lights inside.

Carlisle might only be 90 mins from Philadelphia, but it was close to five hours from Blacksburg and that was a big part of the reason for all the negotiations with the Prince of Harrisburg. Deborah and her entourage would have to spent the day here and return tomorrow night.

“If their ETA was right, we shouldn’t have to wait long.”

They didn’t. A cherry red Audi pulled into the parking lot about 20 minutes later. Michael recognized the car as Corwin’s. The three of them walked outside to greet the newcomers.

The front car doors opened and Keiko and Donna emerged. Like chauffeurs, they immediately moved to the back doors and opened them to let Deborah and Corwin out. Deborah took the lead of their group and walked over to where Michael was standing.

There was an awkward pause as sire and childe took measure of each other. Michael broke the ice by moving up and scooping the petite Deborah into his arms. “Good to see you.” he declared warmly. He looked at the others. “All of you.”

“Holy crap, you’re Rebecca.” Said Keiko with astonishment. “You’re a vampire too?” Michael had forgotten that Keiko grew up two doors down from Rebecca and that she knew her in much the same way she’d known him, a little pipsqueak preteen looking up to the cool teens next door.

“Yes, that’s Rebecca.” Said Deborah, walking over to Rebecca. She then nearly threw herself into Rebecca’s embrace. They kissed passionately.

Michael took that as a cue and wandered over to his two harem girls, taking one in each arm and kissing them both. “So, has Corwin been as good a master as I was?”

“That’s an unfair question, Michael.” Said Corwin. “They are still bound to you and obey me only because you told them too.”

“It’s only been seven months. Bonds take a long time to fade, but they will in time. They’ll be yours for real soon enough.” He leaned down to kiss Donna and Keiko again.

“You keep that up, you’re going to be fucking them in a few minutes.” interjected Corwin.

Deborah backed away from Rebecca. “I like that idea.” she said aloud. “That would make this a proper reunion, now wouldn’t it?”

“Daeva.” Growled Sarah with disdain. “Why am I cursed to be surrounded by Daeva?”

“You must be Sarah. Michael has told many a tale about you. Good to meet you at last.” Deborah released Rebecca and moved to Sarah’s side, taking her in hand. “Not quite what I expected, and yet perfect all the same. A nice mix of Goth and little-too-young-to-be-safe. I can see why he likes you.”

“It’s more than that.” Interjected Michael.

“Oh, but that’s more of it than you’d like to admit.” Said Deborah. “Look at me. Look at Rebecca or at Keiko or Donna. There isn’t a one of us that’s over 20 either for real or in appearance.”

“You sound like him.” said Michael grimly.

“Monroe?" Deborah picked up the reference immediately. "Yeah, I suppose I do. That is why we’re here.”

“You have a story to tell.”

“Then we should find a more comfortable venue for that than this parking lot.”

“Let’s go inside.” said Michael impatiently.

They settled inside an old conference room, windowless and concealed from the outside. A few abandoned chairs dotted the room, but it was largely devoid of furnishings and decoration. Donna, Keiko, Corwin, and Sarah sat down on the floor while Rebecca and Michael took two of the chairs. Deborah remained standing.

“You spoke to Monroe.” Deborah began. “And he told you about yourself. You wanted to know if he told the truth. That’s why you contacted me. That’s why you asked if I knew.”

“Yes.” Michael said. He came across more coldly than he wanted, but he had to admit that among his many emotions at this reunion, the key one was anger. She’d lied to him all along and he knew that now.

“You’re not naïve, Michael. Obviously, by my asking for this face-to-face meeting, I gave you your answer. Yes, I knew.”

“Knew what?” interjected Rebecca.

“They haven’t heard any of this.” Explained Michael. “You’d best start at the beginning.”

“Fine.” Agreed Deborah. “Thomas Monroe is not his real name. He was born as someone else, just as I was. To history, he is known as Pope Alexander VI. His mortal daughter, Lucrezia Borgia, was embraced by a Daeva ally of his some years later. After the two of them fled Rome and settled in London, Lucrezia had a bit of wanderlust. She went into Spain, her family’s ancestral homeland, and met up with the Toreador Daeva. After a half century or so, she was kicked out and returned to London, just in time to accompany her father to the Americas. There, they renewed their war with Mathias.

“By this time, they were going by the names we know them by now: Thomas Monroe and Lucy Bonneville. Back and forth, the battles went. This is all boilerplate history now. Monroe learned Mathias’ weakness, his obsession with any woman that reminded him of his long dead wife. So he sent Lucy on a mission to find a woman who would fit that description and embrace her into darkness.”

“And that was you.” interjected Michael.

“Yes. That’s why she chose me. She took me from my mother’s brothel and made me into the weapon I was to be. Sex and seduction were my arsenal. I was to be irresistible. Lucy could teach me how to get into Mathias’ bedchamber, but she did not have the skills to teach me to deliver the coup de grace. I would need someone else for that task.”

“Solomon.”

Deborah nodded. “Conveniently, the big Gangrel came into San Francisco around this time. So I fed him a story about how I was enslaved to this vicious monstrous lesbian tyrant. He bought it and the ever-gallant fool rushed to my rescue.” She said the word “fool” with a smile; her tone was affectionate, not mocking. “We faked Lucy’s death and I had the soldier I needed.”

“It’ll destroy him to hear that.” interrupted Michael again. “He won’t admit it, but he’s been in love with you all that time. For 50 years, he’s wanted you.”

“I know.” replied Deborah meekly. “But understand something. Yes, I used Solomon. Yes, I lied to him. But he does mean something to me. You understand, Michael, what a rare thing he is in this world. Noble, honorable, honest. As hard as I am, even I can’t resist caring for him. Don’t tell him any of this. I know you love him like a father. Let this secret stay secret.”

“But you did the same to me.” growled Michael. “A lie to make me your good little soldier.”

“Yes. We came to Blacksburg in the 1970s. Mathias was immediately taken with me, but he did not act on it. That was probably a good thing. The Djinn was there and Solomon took his time sizing up his likely opponent. He eventually concluded he would not be able to take The Djinn himself. He needed help. So I petitioned Mathias for the privilege to sire. And that’s when I made you.

“Ernie wandered in around that same time. I knew his reputation and I was able to secure his assistance. It doesn’t take much; the promise of mayhem always draws him. I was ready to strike. Once you were sufficiently trained, you and Solomon would take out The Djinn, I would seduce Mathias, and together the four of us would end him. And my task for Monroe and Lucy would be complete.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

“No, you made Rebecca.” Deborah gestured to her as she spoke. “And Mathias found out through Ernie. That ruined everything. Mathias condemned the two of you to death and me to torment as his sex slave for eternity. He bound me to him and I learned first hand how nightmarish that really is.”

“So you were never bound to Lucy?”

“No, I lied about that too. She persuaded me to join this scheme in much the same way I persuaded you. Lots of sex to play off your infatuation. In the end, I wanted to help her.” Deborah paused and leaned in towards Michael. “Funny how our infatuations and attractions drive this tale, isn’t it? Monroe’s lust for his own daughter, my lust for her, and your lust for me. All had their part to play. Including, perhaps most importantly, your lust for Rebecca.”

“Turns out The Djinn had figured out Mathias’ weakness just as Monroe had. And you dropped into his lap someone almost as perfect as I was to be the bait for a new trap. One he set to betray his master.” Deborah turned to Rebecca. “You know this story. He trained you and set you loose on Mathias. Mathias claimed you and after he brought you into his lair, you freed me from his blood bond and together we finished him.”

Deborah now sat down. “That’s the story you asked to hear. That’s the truth. It’s why all of us are here. Why we’re all vampires. Well, except Sarah.” She added the last part rather flippantly. “We’re Monroe’s legacy. Pawns in his game. But with Mathias gone, we needn’t play anymore. We could have carved out our own destiny. But, by pure coincidence,” Deborah glared at Rebecca again. “you stumbled right into his lair.”

“Monroe’s never said a single word to me.” Rebecca replied. “He still slumbered when I arrived. Walsh gave me permission to reside and he never said anything about my connection to all this.”

“He may not have known. And neither might Monroe. I’ve made no public claims that Rebecca is mine.” said Michael.

“You told the Carthians.” reminded Rebecca.

“He’s not likely to learn this from them.” retorted Michael.

“It’s moot now regardless.” interjected Deborah. “If you knew enough to ask me the question that you did, then it’s obvious you’re in his web now. Monroe has you both. God help you.”

“It explains why Dylan was so interested in my pedigree.” mused Michael.

“Dylan Greene?” said Deborah. “Yes, he would be. No other kindred besides Lucy is as close to Monroe as Dylan. He’d know all this. He’d know you were mine.”

“Yours.” Michael scoffed, his anger coming to the forefront. “It seems I’m always someone’s. Yours, Maximilian’s, and now Monroe’s. Perpetually a pawn, despite all my efforts to break free.”

“We are always someone’s slave.” added Sarah, drawing the room’s attention to her. “I am yours and you’re mine. Rebecca is yours and you are hers. I am hers and she is mine. All because we chose that was how we were to be. Slaves to one another.”

“That’s different.” Michael growled.

“Not really." Sarah continued. "Once, not so long ago, you also chose to be Deborah’s. You sought to help her. You sought to fight for her. I remember. That was the Michael I met at my mother’s shop, the one I asked to fuck me after barely an hour.” Sarah got a quirky smile at the admission. “In the end, you agreed to that, after some time and further persuasion. You chose to be my slave and I wanted to be yours. Are Deborah with Lucy or even Solomon with Deborah all that different? None of us kindred are bound to one another. None of this is forced. We’ve all chosen this.”

“Your point?” Michael tone had not softened.

“You haven’t always found being a pawn to be such a bad thing. Look at what it’s gotten you.”

Rebecca started to laugh. “As I chose to do with you, Michael, now you find yourself confronted with the same choice. You can be pissed off at Deb about your whole life being a lie, but look at what you have now. Is it really worth it?”

“I’m a part of all this too.” added Corwin, speaking for the first time. “I guess I belong to this Monroe character too, several generations removed. But, hell, if I get the life I have now in exchange for being some elder’s puppet, I’ll take the strings.”

“Those strings could now make you Prince.” Rebecca added, addressing Michael.

“Is that Monroe’s offer?” asked Deborah.

“Yes.” Michael admitted. “Dylan, as you may not know, is dead and Lucy, I’m guessing, is still in San Francisco. Monroe is vulnerable and he knows it. Walsh is determined to NOT pass on the throne when the time comes in 9 months. So Monroe's going to use me to destroy Walsh. In exchange, I become his new puppet and I sit the throne in his stead; his figurehead, his proxy. It’s not real. Just like none of this was real.”

“Real is what you make of it.” Offered Deborah. “What you have with Sarah and Rebecca is real, because you want it to be. Monroe’s offer could be the same thing. You’ll never get that close without his help and you know that. People, kindred in particular, aren’t just going to hand you your every desire just for the asking, Michael. I know you know that. They’ve made you a pawn. Fine. Turn around and do the same to them.”

“You honestly think I can outsmart one of the Three Great Elders?”

“Don’t underestimate yourself.” Deborah pointed at Rebecca. “She killed one and you chased off another by sheer force of will. Monroe may be the toughest, but you’ve proven yourself time and again more than capable of the task. You were supposed to be just cannon fodder. But, Michael, you proved smarter, stronger, and far more ambitious than I ever dreamed. Look at what you’ve done. What you’ve accomplished. Almost none of us do what you have in so short a time. You’re a goddamn vampire prodigy.”

Deborah folded her arms and looked at Michael approvingly. “I believe in you. I know you can do it. Philadelphia is your destiny, Michael. You would never have been happy anywhere else.”

“I have one more question.” Michael looked hard at Deborah. “What about you? Was any of it real between us?”

“I stand by what I said a minute ago. Real is what you make of it. You chose for it to be so and it was a good time. We laughed. We fucked. We made music together. We schemed and fought. It was real to me.”

“But it didn’t last.”

“Was it meant to?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Parents, at least the decent ones, let their children go when it’s the right time. Lovers enjoy each other when they are together and savor the memories when they are not, but feelings come and go. Our way as kindred is not so different. You’ve come into your own now, Michael. You have Rebecca and Sarah as stalwart companions and now I have Corwin. This is the way the story has been written, the path that fate has taken us on. There’s nothing here to mourn. It’s just the way things are.”

Michael shrugged. His earlier anger had long since faded. He smiled at Deborah. “There is only the moment and what you can get out of it right now.”

Deborah smiled at hearing her own philosophy quoted back to her. “I believe I said that to you once or twice. You live in the now.”

“And the now has my sire, two of my childer, two of my harem girls, and another of my lovers all in the same room together.”

“I chose well. Whether you care to admit to it or not, Michael, you have insatiable hunger about you.”

“Daeva,” Sarah grumbled again. “Life is not a porn video.”

Michael turned towards her. “You’re the only one that needs any convincing about what happens next. For all your righteous indignation, you can’t tell me you’re not intrigued.”

“I’m not.” Retorted Sarah forcefully. “I share you with Rebecca. That’s taken enough getting used to. And I can tolerate you playing with your food as you’re driven to do. But these others? I thought we left all that behind.”

Michael nodded. “Very well. You and I can go off somewhere by ourselves. But there’s no reason to deny Rebecca a reunion with Deborah. Give us that much.”

Michael stepped over towards Sarah, who grabbed Michael’s shirt collar and pulled him down to plant a hard kiss on his lips. It was a move born of fearful desperation, not passion, and it bothered Michael that after all this time, Sarah was still so paranoid and possessive. “You’re mine tonight and no one else’s.” She growled commandingly.

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