Act Three Chapter Eleven - Sister of Night

Michael stepped off the elevator to see two familiar faces: Gaudino and Angela Borgia. Both were armed with submachine guns and clearly taking no chances. Upon seeing Michael, they gave him a polite nod and motioned towards a nearby lounge. He would have to wait.

Michael had expected this. When he was summoned to report back to Thomas Monroe and Prince Walsh, he figured he wasn’t the only one so summoned. Each would give their reports in turn, so he would simply get in line behind whoever was before him.

Two things had surprised him however. First, the summons had been to the penthouse floor of a hotel near the Philadelphia airport, not to Monroe’s island sanctuary. Rebecca figured that would be so none of Monroe’s potential rivals might be witness to whatever changes Monroe might be making to his security measures. That made sense, given how easily Ernie’s cultists had been able to breech his defenses the first time.

The second was to discover he was not alone in the “waiting room.” Prince Elias Walsh himself was sitting there. Walsh was anything but bored however. He was clearly enjoying the affections of the naked young girl bouncing up and down on his lap. It was Ludovica Borgia, Monroe’s 9 year old thrall.

Michael frowned at the vulgarity of it, an expression not lost on Walsh. “Planning to mount your high horse, Michael?” he taunted. “I thought you liked them young.”

There was proof that Sarah had been right about Monroe and Walsh figuring out his proclivities and patterns.

“This isn’t really my thing as much as it is yours. I’m sure she was brought here for you. How fun it must be for you to get my sloppy seconds. Of course, I could remedy that.” He reached around and gripped Ludovica’s neck and began to squeeze. The girl gasped for air and began clawing at the vice-like grip on her throat. “Now this is my thing.”

“Let her go, Walsh.” Michael demanded.

“Are you giving me, the Prince of Philadelphia, an order?”

“No, I’m calling your bluff. You’re not about to kill one of Monroe’s favorites.”

The two vampires locked eyes for a long moment. Walsh never slacked from his rhythm, nor did he release the girl. Ludovica’s face began to turn purple and her scrabbling at Walsh’s hand began to grow weaker and more frantic.

The door at the end of the hallway opened. Walsh threw Ludovica onto the floor and stood up. He zipped up his fly, straightened his tie, and composed himself. “She’s all yours.” He said, as he headed towards the open door to his meeting with Monroe.

Michael went to the girl. She sucked in huge gulps of air now that she could breathe again and coughed as the air passed across her inflamed throat. “Are you alright?” He asked her.

Ludovica looked up at him with tears in her eyes, but said nothing. She wiped the tears from her face and stood up. “I am your gift for this evening. You may do with me as you wish.” She half-whispered her rehearsed line, her throat still too raw for anything else.

Michael felt his anger rising. Sarah was right about him. For all his flaws, dark side, and bizarre kinks, Michael would never do to anyone what Monroe had done to this girl.

“Not here.” Said Michael, keeping his rage in check. “Is there somewhere else we could go?”

“I was given a room. Follow me.” She took him in hand.

Michael followed Ludovica out of the lounge and into the hallway. Her two relatives guarding the elevator ignored them. As they headed towards the room, they came upon the first vampire Monroe had met with: Damian Drake.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise.” Said Michael, pausing to greet his half-ally half-nemesis. “Why are you here?”

“I invited myself to make sure that Mr. Monroe had the full story of who was responsible for the demise of Konstatin Orlov.” Said Drake slyly. “Wouldn’t want him to miss out on any details having heard it from a third party.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s good.” Said Michael flatly. He had been planning to take credit for the TFV raid, given that Drake was “technically” one of Michael’s subordinates in his coterie. Drake arriving beforehand had robbed him of that opportunity. Of course, there was something disturbing about the fact that Drake both knew of the meeting and was able to get here first.

“By the way, I’m going to have to use a new point man when I use my operatives with you in the future. Sadly, Agent A was injured in the confrontation with Orlov. He will recover, but you know how fragile humans can be and how long it takes them to heal.”

“That’s unfortunate. He was a good man.”

“He’s tough, a valuable asset. I pleased I didn’t lose him permanently.” Drake glanced at Ludovica. “Well, I see you are otherwise engaged and I will not keep you from whatever entertainment Monroe has planned for you while he grills Walsh. Good night.” With that, Drake headed to the elevator.

Ludovica guided Michael to the next door in the hallway and pushed it open. Inside was a typical hotel room with a king-sized bed and a whirlpool bathtub large enough for two adults. Ludovica walked into the center of the room and stopped, her back to Michael.

“You may take your pleasure of me however you wish.” Said Ludovica, her voice more normal now.

“What would you like to do?” asked Michael.

She turned around and looked at him with a confused look. “I am here for your pleasure alone.” She answered warily.

“And my pleasure is to let you do what you wish. Sleep, take a bath, watch TV, your choice.”

A weak smile emerged on Ludovica’s face. “No one ever asks me what I want.”

“No, I imagine not. Too bad it won’t be much more than half-an-hour, but enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I’d like to take a bath.” She said. “I want to get him out of me.” She said the word “him” with such disgust and loathing that it surprised even Michael.

“Be my guest.”

She moved to the tub and began to fill it. Michael went over to the bed and turned on the TV. He flipped channels for a while, but soon his attention was drawn back to Ludovica. He watched her as she bathed, not in a voyeuristic way, but in genuine curiosity about her character. He could see, in addition to the welts forming on her neck, a number of bruises, showing that her abuse was not limited to sex. What sort of life had she lived in an inbred incestuous family of vampire thralls? Could he even imagine what that was like to be her?

“Well, this is not quite what I was expecting.” Said Monroe as he entered the room. Time was up.

Ludovica shot to her feet in abject terror, as if she’d been caught committing some heinous sin. Michael came to his feet more slowly. “I decided to give her a break.” He explained. “It was my choice. My command.”

“And here, I thought you’d enjoy her charms.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Said Michael, letting his anger slip into his voice. “You know, I’m curious. Did you ever once allow her to just be a little girl?”

Monroe frowned. “Be mindful of your place, Allens. It is not for you to judge me.”

“No, I suppose my place is to jump at your command like everyone else does in this city, including its Prince.” Said Michael. “Ernie will remain a problem. He bailed on York just as we were about to flush him out. No doubt he’s here in the city.”

“With Orlov dead, it will be harder for him to cause trouble, although Drake’s people only found a small fraction of the smuggled arms shipment. At least the Malleus is back out of the way. Not all my servants are disappointments.”

“So either Walsh lied or was unaware the Grand Inquisitor escaped his grasp. That’s interesting.” Michael thought.

“Enjoy your moment of quiet while it lasts, your Holiness.” Said Michael sarcastically. He looked over at the still frightened Ludovica. “I’m sure your servants won’t.”

---

Michael marched into his own office. He immediately noticed two figures in his murphy bed going at it. He came inside and sat down on the sofa, wondering how long it would take the lovers to notice him. He was also making guesses in his own mind as to who it was. Rebecca and Sarah? No, one of the figures was male. Mitch and Keri perhaps? Solomon and Julia?

Paul sat up in the bed, answering Michael’s curiosity. Michael could now see Kathleen beneath him.

“You know, I appreciate that my friends make such good use of my office for their private time.”

Paul spun about startled. “We’re not doing anything you don’t do yourself.”

“Yes, but it’s my office.” Michael stood up, grabbing a pile of Paul’s clothes and tossing them to him. “Get dressed. I doubt you want to be naked when the rest of the crew show up.” Michael then scooped up Kathleen’s clothes and tossed them to her. “That goes for the both of you.”

“And here I was hoping you’d tag in.” Kathleen purred.

“After what I’ve seen tonight, I’m a long way from being in the mood.”

“We should probably go.” Said Paul. Michael was uncertain if it was directed at him or Kathleen.

“You are part of my team.” Said Michael. “You’ll want to hear this.”

The elevator opened a moment later, releasing Boar, Sarah, Rebecca, and Mitch. A moment after that it headed back down and brought up Solomon and Julia. That was everyone except for Anna, whose absence didn’t surprise Michael much, and Damian, who clearly barely qualified as an ally.

“I just came from a meeting with Monroe.” Announced Michael. “It confirmed some things we’ve hoped. Orlov is dead. The Malleus are wiped out, except clearly for their Grand Inquisitor, who I saw here just last night. With Ernie vanished into thin air, we have some breathing room.”

Michael paused for that to sink in among his allies. He then looked at Sarah. “I may not know everything about myself or why I do what I do. But I do know what to do and why I’m here.” He turned back to the whole group. “I watched Walsh strangle a child nearly to death tonight and then Monroe offered said child to me for my own ‘pleasure.’ This is who they are; who are enemies are. This is what they’ve been doing to this city for decades. It’s long past time it stopped.” Michael paused for drama.

“I’m bringing them both down.”

“That was our mission from the start.” Said Solomon. “What’s different now?”

“My motive has changed. It used to be just about me, about a chance for me to rise to the highest places in our society, with you all rising with me. It’s not just about me anymore. It’s about her.”

“Some inbred slut of Monroe’s twisted harem?” said Solomon disdainly.

“Her name is Ludovica.” Said Michael firmly. “But it’s also Naomi, Cecilia, Angela, Phoebe and countless others I can’t name out there on the streets and in the darkest corners of this corrupt city.”

“So you’re going to play savior.”

“That’s precisely what I’m saying. You don’t have to tag along. You weren’t all that keen on this expedition at the start.”

“You have the devil’s luck, Michael.” Said Solomon, softening. “You’ve not led us astray so far. Besides, I’m curious to see if you can pull it off.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Said Michael confidently.

“I don’t. I wouldn’t be in this if I thought you truly had no chance at all.”

“So what’s the next step?” asked Rebecca.

“Phoebe. Is she downstairs?”

“I haven’t seen her tonight.” Rebecca replied. The rest of the group shook their heads as well.

“Find her. I want to talk to her about her bosses.”

---

Phoebe entered the office with Kathleen. “Found her.” said Kathleen with a bit of glee.

“Thank you, Kathleen.” said Michael. He paused with curiosity. “I don’t recall introducing you two.”

“You didn’t.” said the Malkovian. “All I needed to do is find a pretty petite redheaded whore hanging out in the clubs on South Street. Aren’t that many of those and I just needed to find the one that recognized your name. Guess I was lucky to find her first.”

“Guess so. Thank you. You may go.”

Kathleen leaned in. “You owe me.” she said with a sly smile.

“I can guess what that means.” said Phoebe as Kathleen departed. “It’s the same way you repay me.”

“Your pussy comes with a lot fewer strings attached.” said Michael bluntly. “Have a seat.”

“Why am I here, if I may ask? I was working Inferno tonight. I’m not supposed to be here at CRASS until the night after tomorrow.”

“I will compensate you for your time, as always.” said Michael. “I want to know how the Tongs run their prostitution racket. Specifically, I want to know who runs the racket.”

“I don’t know the answer to that question, but I know how you could find out.” said Phoebe. She paused to gather her thoughts. “Racism isn’t limited to just us white folk. The Tongs segregate their whores and sex slaves by race. Blacks and Latinas work the streets. White girls get the clubs. Asians get the massage parlors.”

“So I need to find the most prestigious parlor and meet its proprietor.”

“That’s where it gets tricky. The best parlors are invitation only. You just can’t show up and ask to be let inside.”

“So how do I get an invite?”

“There’s a girl that works the Golden Lotus off Cherry Street. They call her Ai’ma.”

“Doesn’t sound much like a Chinese name.”

“It isn’t. It’s a nickname of some sort. But it’s said her brother is a low level guard in the Tong, a hired gun. However, it’s said that he works the Emperor’s Palace. That’s the top of the heap. No one gets in there unless they have lots of money and a personal recommendation from Tong leadership.”

“So a Tong enforcer’s sister is a parlor prostitute? Can’t imagine that’s terribly kosher.”

“That’s part of the reason Ai’ma’s talked about. Some sort of scandal. Family dishonor and all that.”

Michael sat down across from Phoebe and leaned in. “I wonder what the real story is. Because a vengeful enforcer looking to avenge his sister’s dishonor might be just the leverage we could use.”

“If that’s the story...” cautioned Phoebe.

“Yeah, if...” Michael stood up. “I suppose I should pay a visit to the Golden Lotus. Drinks downstairs are on me, so stick around. I’ll be back for some fun with you later.”

Phoebe smiled. “I’ll never complain about your vampire stamina.”

---

Philadelphia’s Chinatown was about a half mile north of South Street, so Michael decided to walk. The May night was brisk and Michael enjoyed the bustle of the city around him. It felt good to have purpose and a plan again, a direction for he and his coterie to focus their efforts.

As active as South Street and the downtown streets of Philadelphia were on this Thursday night, they paled in comparison to the insanity of Chinatown proper. People everywhere, moving about despite it being near 11:00pm. The vast majority were Asian with a few Anglos and other races intermingled; all under the watchful eyes of Tong enforcers and Philadelphia police in equal measure.

Michael took a left turn onto Cherry Street, glancing down the narrow alleyways where he knew the entrance to the tong’s illegal massage parlors would be located. A small neon sign of a lotus flower in yellow tipped him off to his destination. He turned down the alley and headed up to the steel door beneath the sign.

Michael rapped on the door and the eye-level window slid open. Michael turned on the vampire charisma, waved a wad of fifties in front of the Chinese guard, and said “Ai’ma.”

“Come in.” said the guard in badly accented English. “I see if she free.” He opened the door and motioned Michael into a small waiting room.

As the guard retreated farther into the building, Michael took stock of his surroundings. An older woman stood nearby in a small booth, barely looking up at him. The place smelled of jasmine and other spices and there was a distinct moisture to the air; perhaps there was some sort of communal bathroom on the premises.

“Ai’ma free in ten minute.” said the guard returning. “You pay there.” He gestured towards the old woman.

“Two hundred dollar for happy ending.” said the old woman in equally broken English as the guard. Michael began to wonder if anyone here had anything more than a rudimentary mastery of the language. Clearly they did fine in Philadelphia as they were. Michael flipped out four fifties from the wad he’d brandished at the door and returned the rest to his pocket.

The ten minutes turned into twenty, but Michael didn’t mind. A middle-aged Asian man emerged first, leering at Michael through his mustache. A young teenaged girl followed, wearing a very short dress of red silk in the Chinese double-breasted style. She nodded to Michael and motioned him to follow her. He stood up and did as she beckoned.

Ai’ma was an Asian girl of probably 16 or 17; clearly underage, yet Michael suspected that her Tong minders didn’t care one whit. She led him into a small room with a massage table and a rack of off-white towels on the wall.

“Undress.” she instructed as she began covering her hands in scented oil. Michael did so and lay down on the table.

“So I’m curious.” said Michael, turning on his supernatural charm. “What sort of name is Ai’ma anyway?”

“My name is Ai.” She began, continuing the rub her hands together. “People call me Ai’ma to make fun. It mean ‘I’m a whore.’ or ‘I’m a slut.’ They laugh at me. Say I worthless. No good.” Michael caught the pun and shrugged.

“Ai is not a Chinese name.” observed Michael as she began to rub the oil into his back.

“No. Is Japanese.” she relayed. Michael knew that. He’d seen more than enough anime in his day to recognize the popular girl’s name.

“So ka (I understand.)” said Michael. Her Japanese name explained a great deal towards why a tong enforcer’s sister would be working the brothel.

“Anata wa nihongo o hanasemasu ka? (Do you speak Japanese?)” Ai’ma’s voice had an excited tone.

“Ie. (no)” Michael replied, exhausting most of his Japanese vocabulary for this brief exchange. “So how does a Japanese girl end up in a place like this?”

“Half-Japanese.” said Ai’ma. “My father was Tong. Big shot. Then father marry my mother, who Japanese. Big secret for many years. Older brother become big up and comer in Tong. But secret found out. Father and brother disgraced. I work brothel.”

“So that’s the story.” Michael thought. Ai’ma’s hands worked up and down on Michael’s back masterfully. “So what happened to your father?”

“Tong sold him out. He in prison.”

“And your mother?”

There was a pause in her ministrations. “Don’t know.” Ai’ma said sadly. “Big brother work as guard in Emperor’s Palace. I not see him much. Turn over please.”

Michael did so and Ai’ma reached up to undo the buttons of her dress. It fell away, allowing Michael a view of all her glory. Seeing her nude, Michael was now no longer certain to her age. Her height said older, but her small breasts and hairless mound said younger. She could have been anywhere between 12 and 20.

“Whoever says you’re worthless knows nothing.” complimented Michael. Ai’ma smiled and she began to rub the oil into the skin of Michael’s legs, working her way closer to his stiffening manhood.

“I like you, Mister...” she let the sentence hang with expectation that Michael would fill in the blank.

“Allens. Michael Allens.” He chuckled to himself at the inadvertent James Bond reference.

“You kind. And funny. Most people not care.” She climbed on top of him, parking herself on his pelvis, and began to massage his chest. Michael could feel the heat of her own arousal.

“Most people don’t want what you can give me and it has nothing to do with that moist spot between your legs.” Michael thought to himself. He glanced about the room, mindful again of his true purpose here. There was nothing consumable about. No water, no wine, no food, nothing into which he could slip a drop of his blood to begin the binding process with Ai’ma.

Michael reached down and grabbed her by the hips. He maneuvered her body slightly and then entered her. She gave out a pleasant yelp. “So happy ending is now happy middle.” She said.

“I can live with that, if you can.” said Michael. She began to rhythmically move her body up and down upon him, giving her answer. She soon began to moan in delight.

Michael suspected however that her display of ecstasy was all an act, since he wasn’t really doing anything to enhance her pleasure. Still, it gave him an opportunity. With her eyes closed, she could not see him bite down on his fingertip to get the blood flowing. He reached up and caressed her lips with one of his intact fingers. As expected, she pulled his finger into her mouth to suck on it and Michael slid the wounded one in alongside it. Her first taste.

If she noticed the blood, she made no reaction, other than to increase her rhythm. His reason for coming here now fulfilled, Michael now dedicated his energies to her. It was not long before her feinted cries became genuine. Her head rolled back and her tongue poked out, the infamous ahegao Michael recognized from his viewing of more than one hentai anime. She climaxed hard soon thereafter as did Michael a moment or so later.

Their visit now concluded, the lovers separated and stood up. They got dressed, Ai’ma ringing a bell near the door to signal to her minders she was ready for another customer.

“I’ll be back again,” he promised, “Ai.” He leaned in and gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“I hope so.” said Ai’ma with a shy smile. She was clearly flattered to be called by her real name for once.

---

Michael kept his promise, returning twice more over the course of the next week or so. Twice for two more doses of his blood. Twice to set the thrall bond in her and to make her truly his, regardless of whatever claims the Tongs may have made on her.

“I would like to meet your brother.” Michael proffered as he got dressed after his third visit. “Can you arrange that?”

“I will try.” she said, donning a silk dress of blue this time. “Come back tomorrow and I let you know.”

The next night, he did precisely that and Ai’ma informed him that she’d spoken to her brother. “I tell him you good friend. That you want to help. He meet you outside Emperor’s Palace at midnight tonight.”

Michael departed the Golden Lotus and headed across Chinatown to where the Emperor’s Palace parlor was hidden. Considered the top brothel for the Tongs, it was not advertised openly at all, not even as minimally as the Golden Lotus was. To any normal observer, the ugly brick building was nothing more than a Chinese novelty shop for curious tourists. The back door however led upstairs to the opulent pleasure palace.

When Michael arrived at midnight, one of the brothel guards was in the alleyway by the backdoor, smoking. He glared at Michael balefully and set his hand down on the AKS carbine at his hip, sending the message that Michael should move on.

“I’m looking for Zheng. I was told to meet him.”


The guard turned and rapped on the door and barked something within in rapid Chinese. Michael could only make out the name of Ai’ma’s brother in the guard’s speaking, but took that as a good sign.

A young man in his mid-20s emerged from the back door. Like the other, he carried an AKS at his hip. He exchanged a quick conversation in Chinese with the first guard, who put out his cigarette and headed back inside.

“Ai says you’re a friend.” said Zheng. Unlike most of the Tong-affiliated folks Michael had encountered, his English was crisp and almost without accent. “Says you want to help us.”

“You bear the disgrace of your father’s choice unjustly.” said Michael.

“He did what he did for love.” affirmed Zheng. “Koto was good to me after my own mother died. She was a good woman. Took care of us and Ai’s a joy as you’ve learned. She deserves better than this.”

“So do you.”

“So how can some gaijin like you help us?” Michael found a certain irony that he used the Japanese word for foreigner instead of the Chinese.

“I’m a businessman.” Michael began. “And one of my businesses is young ladies like your sister. I’d like to expand my territory.”

“Honesty.” said Zheng. “I appreciate that. I’ve heard of you, Michael Allens. Word on the street is you shut down the Ninth in North Philly and took over their racket. But you’ll never get Chinatown from the Tongs. The other enforcers will never bow to a white man, no matter how tough or ruthless you might be.”

“And what if I had a surrogate? Someone who was once on the fast track to power, but has had it denied due to a quirk of fate.”

“Ah, now I see.” The glint of ambition shone in Zheng’s eye. But his voice soon grew despondent. “It’s a nice idea.” he admitted. “But I’ve lost all my influence. They wouldn’t trust me. Not anymore.”

“I think we can turn that around. Your sister believes me.”

“She’s young and naive.”

“Nothing worth having was ever gained without risk.” said Michael. “Yes, it’s a cliche, but it’s also true. If you’re willing to gamble on me, I’ll gamble on you.”

“It’s too risky. The old man always knows.”

“Zao?” Michael risked a guess.

“You know of him? I thought he was Kun Yuen’s best kept secret.” Zheng paused. “Zao’s paranoid. Always on the lookout for betrayal, for folks like you trying to muscle in on Tong business.”

“So, no surprise the Dark Brotherhood has tried this before.” Michael thought to himself. “He uses his own magic to sense when the Brotherhood has been using spells to influence his Tongsmen. But the powers of vampires work differently. I might be able to sneak something past him, something the Brotherhood has never managed.”

“I can deal with Zao.” Michael said confidently.

“I wouldn’t underestimate him. He’s a strange one. It’s said he has mysterious power.

“Mumbo-jumbo.” mocked Michael.

“I’d say the same, if I hadn’t seen it myself. The way he breaks people down.” he paused. “Like my father.”

“Mitch didn’t say anything about Zao having mind magic or anything like that. But perhaps he keeps his cards close even with his allies, keeping some of his skills secret from them. Still, he does have allies who can see through time and space and undoubtedly someone who can read minds. This will require some delicate planning.”

Michael then spoke aloud. “I still say it's a parlor trick of some sort. It’s amazing what a bit of fear can do to a man’s mind.” He paused to tell a joke. “Bring me two cans of powdered Clorox, some rope, and a rubber chicken. What’s all that for?” He smiled menacingly as he came to the punch line. “Would you like to find out?”

“This is not a laughing matter, Mr. Allens.” said Zheng deadpan. It was clear he was not going to be so easily persuaded away from his fear of Zao.

“Fine then. Zao’s scary. But you’ve got a choice. You can sit here being nothing more than a door guard for the rest of your days while your half-sister gives fat ugly men blow jobs all day long. Never mind what they’ll do to her once she’s not so young and pretty. Or you can gamble with me. Your choice. If you change your mind, you can find me at Club CRASS on South Street.” Michael turned and walked back into the night.

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