Michael walked into Kris' dorm room and sat down on the rug. Kris was at her desk, working on her computer. She gave him a polite nod as he entered, but said nothing. There was a discomfort apparent in her silence.
“Still a little freaked out about last night?” asked Michael, breaking the silence.
“It was...” She seemed at a loss for words. “unexpected.” A moment later, she seemed to compose herself. “You did not seem quite so surprised. And don't seem so disturbed by what happened.”
“Well, I went in skeptical and somewhat prepared.” he admitted. “In one sense, the only thing that really caught me off-guard was how the evening ended. That...that was a surprise.”
“And Father Malenkov? His gift?”
“A clear read of body language and a few long-established parlor tricks can explain him.” Michael lied. “The content of his message too. Panders to the base needs and impulses of all of us. The desire to be loved, to be accepted, to be a part of a larger whole. But the way they express that, well, that was unusual.”
“I'm sorry, Michael. I was not myself during that.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I was disloyal to you. I let so many of the men there have me.” Michael heard the thrall-bond behind her words, and the emotions it engendered.
“I noticed and you did seem to enjoy yourself in that. But honestly, Kris, you were caught up in the moment, as was I. It would be awfully hypocritical of me to condemn your behavior when I was guilty of the same.”
“I suppose.” said Kris. Absolution did not appear to be what she desired from him.
“Look, let's not talk about it. Let's not think about it. We'll pretend it didn't happen and move on.”
“Well, that's kinda what I've been trying to do today. It's paid off. I have something for you.”
“And that is?”
“The identity of our hacker friend.”
Michael stood up and went to her side. He gave her a congratulatory kiss and looked at the screen. “Joshua Burke. I recognize that name.”
“He's a dropout from the CS program. Hangs out with a group of sycophants who think he's hot stuff because he works in video game design. Apparently that doesn't pay as well as he'd like, since he's scamming the banks on the side.”
“Stealing what we'd like to steal.” said Michael. “Let me use your phone and we'll do something about this.”
----
Mitch drove the five of them into the parking lot of the Shawnee Apartment complex. They climbed out of the cramped Camaro and they could hear the loud goings-on at a nearby apartment.
“Josh was planning a LAN party tonight.” Said Kris. “That’s probably what’s causing the noise.”
Michael listened to the ruckus more closely and indeed he could hear the sound of computer games and trash talk amidst the din.
“A LAN party?” Deborah asked, confused.
“Computer games. Network a bunch of computers together and then play head-to-head. Sounds like Doom to me.” Answered Michael. “They’re awfully loud for a bunch of computer nerds.”
“So?” asked Boar.
“Well, we don’t want to shakedown a whole apartment full of people, no matter how scary we look. Best to chase his guests away first and I think I know just the way to do it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter, flipped it, and headed towards a nearby phone booth.
A Blacksburg police cruiser was there in less than ten minutes. Michael and the others kept out of sight as the officer stepped out of the car. She was a young woman, probably not too much older than the students she was about to encounter. Michael smiled as he thought to himself. “Well, I may need to get me a connection in the Blacksburg police next.”
“Eyes over here.” teased Kris quietly, giving him a nudge.
The officer headed to the door and broke up the party, claiming that they had received a noise complaint. There was grumbling and complaining, but the apartment was soon emptied. Things quieted down and the officer went on her way.
“Looks like they’ve all cleared out.” Said Kris. “Now’s your chance.”
“Everyone knows their parts.” Said Michael, drawing a gun from the back of his pants. He checked the magazine and then chambered a round.
“Just look scary.” Said Boar. “I think I can manage.”
Kris went up to the door first and knocked.
“Now what?” snarled a man in his early twenties as the door flew open. He was clearly annoyed. “What do you want, Kris?”
“She’s here for us.” Said Michael pushing his way inside.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Call me an admirer.” Said Michael, moving past Joshua to enter the kitchen. Mitch and Boar moved inside the apartment behind him.
“Now wait a second.” Protested Joshua. “Who the hell are you people?”
“You hacked the First Union. Put a subroutine in that siphons the change off their interest calculations.”
“Yeah.” Said Josh, “how did you know?”
“Removed another similar routine in doing so, right?”
“Let me guess. Yours?”
Michael nodded. “Never occurred to you that worm belonged to someone, did it? That they might be a little miffed having their stolen money stolen from them.”
“Dude, it’s about $30 a day. Hardly major cash.”
“No, but it is my cash.” Said Michael firmly. “And I don’t like people stealing from me.”
“So, what the fuck are you going to do about it?” said Josh defiantly.
“I haven’t quite decided yet. I suppose it depends mostly on you.” Said Michael, walking about the kitchen somewhat nonchalantly. “I could let Mitch and Boar take my money out of your hide.”
“Ooh, I’m shaking.” Said Josh, sardonically. He was putting on a brave show, but it was obvious already that this whole affair had him very unnerved.
Michael paused. “I'm not joking.” He drew his gun and brandished it casually in front of him. Josh’s eyes grew wide.
“Dude,” said Josh, now obviously anxious. “this is getting a bit out of hand. Hey, look, it’s only a few hundred dollars so far. You can have it. I’ll even write you a check.”
“That’s not all I want.” Said Michael flatly.
“I won’t do it again.”
“Oh, but I hope you will,” replied Michael. “but while working for me. You see, I said I was an admirer. That part wasn’t a joke either. You sliced through what my top hacker put in and then replaced it with a routine she couldn’t dislodge. I could use someone like you.”
“I don’t think I’m interested.” Stammered Joshua. It was honest defiance, if a bit weak.
“It wasn’t a request.” Said Michael. He casually flipped the safety off. “You see, if you don’t work for me, you might decide to work for someone else. One of my competitors. And I really don’t want to have to deal with that.”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Then take my offer. You see, the only trouble you’ll have is if you keep saying no.”
“Alright, I’m in.” Josh conceded. “What do you want me to do?”
“For starters, fix the First Union hack and put it back to its original account. As for further instruction, Kris will be in touch.” Michael tucked his gun back into his pants, gave a cute little wave, and headed out the door.
Deborah had remained at the foot of the stairs leading up the apartment the whole time, listening to what went on, but not intervening. “Not bad, although a little heavy handed.”
“Right tool for the right job. I wasn’t going to hurt him, but he didn’t need to know that.” Replied Michael.
“Well done. We'll talk more about this later.” said Deborah. “I'm going to see about a snack. Stop by when you've finished up.” She began walking up the street, towards the 7-11 at the corner of Tom's Creek and University City Blvd.
“Who is she anyway?” asked Kris suspiciously.
“My boss.” said Michael. “No need to be jealous.”
Mitch and Boar snickered in the background, which pretty much spoiled Michael's lie.
Kris gave them a withering look, which silenced their laughter, and then she turned to Michael. She said nothing, but seemed to be awaiting an answer from him.
“You are much too smart to be kept in the dark any longer, Kris. All this is far more complicated than it appears.”
Kris nodded and Michael continued. “As it happens, I am also not what I appear to be. You see a young man, ordinary human being, but I'm not. I am a vampire and Deborah, who just left us, is the one who made me so.”
Michael was not sure what sort of response he would get. The words sounded utterly ridiculous in his ears, but it was now too late to retract them. They would stand or fall on their own.
Kris just sort of blinked, as if she couldn't believe what he'd said. “I thought...you can't...” she stammered out, as if trying to sort out everything in her mind. “How is that possible?”
“That is a very good question.” said Michael. “Unfortunately, it is not one I can answer. I can't explain how or why I've come to be this way exactly, only that I am what I say.”
“So you drink blood?”
“Yes.”
“You turn into a bat?”
“No, that I can't do.”
“Have you...from me?”
“Numerous times.” said Michael slyly. “And you have loved it every time.”
Kris simply stood there at that revelation, dumbfounded. Her expression was one of confused horror. She looked at Michael with a paradoxical combination of disgust and desire. And then she ran.
Michael was stung a bit by that.
“That did not go as well as you'd hoped.” said Mitch, stating the obvious.
Michael committed himself to trusting in the power of the thrall-bond and shrugged. “No, but I'm not worried. She will say nothing to anyone about what I've told her, nor will this be the last we see of her. She will be back. You can count on that.”
----
She did not that night nor the night after. Michael tried to remain unconcerned, but a thread of doubt lingered in the back of his mind. As time went on, it blossomed into genuine concern. Three days after his shakedown of Joshua, Michael decided to go looking for Kris.
As he headed towards Kris' dorm, Solomon pulled up. “You ready?” said Solomon curtly. “We were to train tonight.”
“I'd forgotten.” Michael admitted. “There is some business I have to take care of.”
“It can wait.” said Solomon. His tone was firm and clearly indicated that Solomon would accept no further refusal.
“Very well.” relented Michael, hoping onto the back of Solomon's motorcycle.
The drive from Blacksburg to Roanoke took around 45 minutes and the noise of riding a motorcycle made conversation impossible.
“Deborah will be pleased to see you.” Said Solomon as he parked his bike in the garage of a large apartment complex. The top floor penthouse was Solomon’s, and contained many luxuries only the very wealthy could afford. Not the least of which was his own dojo. “She is curious to learn how things have gone with your blood doll.”
“That was the business I was hoping to address.” said Michael with some frustration. He was not happy that Solomon knew about that.
“You've not done anything yet?”
Michael shook his head.
“You are far too trusting.”
“She's tasted my blood three times and even in a vampire as young as I am, that's enough to establish the bond. She's no threat to the Masquerade.” said Michael defensively. “Besides, it's rich that you would chide me about being trusting when you allow Deb and I into your own haven.”
Solomon stared balefully at Michael, but said nothing for a long moment. “You're not a threat. And neither is she. You may know how to get into the apartment, but you do not know where my inner sanctum is nor could you penetrate it if you did. The only way you could take me out then is to take out the whole building.”
“That does seem a bit overkill.” Admitted Michael. “But thank you for making my point. The situation with Kris will resolve itself in due time. There is no cause for alarm.”
“You leave much to chance.”
“No, it's only chance to those outside looking in. It's certitude.”
The doors opened and the two exited out into what would have been Solomon’s living room, if he’d had one. Instead, the Gangrel had converted it into a dojo for sparing practice. The floor was covered with dark colored padding, which was good since, of the handful of times they had sparred, Michael found himself bruised and bleeding after every one. He expected the same tonight, perhaps more so since he'd provoked Solomon outside.
Along the walls, Solomon kept a collection of both sparring weapons and the real thing. Michael was impressed by his collection of swords and blades from across the world and from many eras of history. To the right of the room was an exit that led to the kitchen, bath, and the living areas of the suite. To their left was a glass wall that looked out over an outdoor patio, with a swimming pool and hot tub. Above the glass wall were metal shutters; shutters programmed to close promptly at dawn.
But for now, the shutters were up and the two could look out clearly at the patio and the city beyond. But the patio itself held a sight to see. A young woman in a wet Roanoke College t-shirt sitting on the rim of the hot tub, Deborah’s head buried in her crotch.
“Swinging for the other team tonight, I see.” Said Michael mirthfully. He began to move towards the sliding doors to go outside. “Deb’s being selfish. She should share.”
“Unlife is not merely the porn movie you and your sire seek to make it into.” Said Solomon gruffly. “We have work to do.”
“Always with you it’s work.” Replied Michael. His tone was teasing, meant in jest. It was an effort to lighten the mood a bit after their argument outside but Solomon was not smiling.
The elevator doors opened and Ernie stepped out. He gave Michael a brief glare and then turned to Solomon. “All work and no play make you both no fun.” His voice had a sing-song quality to it, like a small child.
Michael's mind was immediately flooded with memories of the orgy, seeing Kris in the thralls of ecstasy, of having all those women himself, and then the image of Ernie in his prophet guise offering more of the same.
“You should have more fun.” Continued Ernie, “The offer stands.”
“Get out of my head.” Said Michael intently.
“Make me.” Taunted Ernie.
“We were not expecting you tonight.” Said Solomon. The comment was enough distraction for Ernie to release Michael.
“I knew you two were playing war tonight. I wanna play too.” Ernie’s voice got excited, but soon became crestfallen. “Debbie’s here too. Darn. Now Michael's going to have fun with her instead of me. I'm a better friend that she is.” Ernie pouted.
The power of his forced remembrance left Michael mentally spent and sexually aroused. His thoughts were now only of joining Deborah and relieving his lusts. Realizing this, Solomon dismissed him with an exasperated nod. Michael headed out onto the patio, quickly stripped off his pants, jumped in the hot tub, and thrust himself into Deborah’s now elevated posterior. Deborah paused and sat up for a bit when he felt him enter her, but she soon resumed her pace.
“He’ll be back.” Said Ernie. “And more eager to play with us.”
“Don't interfere again, Ernie.” said Solomon sternly.
“Please,” said Ernie dismissively. “The moment he saw Deb he wanted to play Doctor with her instead of War with you. That's not my fault.”
“He's weak-minded. You're not helping.”
“He's Daeva.” said Ernie. “They're so much fun. So easy.”
“That doesn't help our cause.” asked Solomon gravely. 'He needs to learn to resist you.”
“I can tell you all about the things he wants to do to his two friends outside.” Ernie replied, completely ignoring Solomon's comment. “Ooh, and there he goes with that one.” Ernie began to pout. “That must be fun, being all naked and rubbing against each other like that.”
“So I’ve been told.” Said Solomon.
"Oh, now, don't pretend you haven't buried Little Solomon deep in that crevasse. I know better." teased Ernie. "There was a time when you two could barely keep your hands off each other."
"A long time ago." mused Solomon with bitterness in his voice. He went over to the wall and got down a couple of blunted swords. “Times are different now."
"Not as much as you'd like to pretend they are. Solomon want to play Doctor too!"
"That's not important. Right now, we need Michael trained up. To do that, we need him focused. Your job is to teach him to block out..."
“Ooh, speak not his name.” warned Ernie. “He might hear.”
“Who? Michael’s rather distracted at the moment.”
“No, the Scary One!” said Ernie emphatically.
Solomon shook his head in exasperation. He’d been around Ernie enough to know how to deal with his various personalities. Ernie was among friends he trusted, hence the emergence of his child self. And although Ernie spoke and appeared to reason like a 6-year old, Solomon had long since learned that his core self was still there underneath it all. Regardless, in this personality, Ernie steadfastly refused to be serious about anything.
That, by itself, was annoying. But in the midst of all of it was Ernie's uncanny ability to uncover truths no one else wanted him to know.
The glass doors slipped open and Michael, Deborah, and their rather weary companion came back inside. All three were now clothed, although their clothing was somewhat disjoined as if they’d dressed in a rush.
Deb gave Michael an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Thanks for the surprise. I’ll see Lisa home. You get to your practice.”
“See you then.”
“Not a word about your thrall, I see.”
“The porn movie strategy as you call it can be a nice distraction.” said Michael.
Solomon tossed one of the practice swords to Michael. Although he seem to be distracted still by Deborah’s departure, Michael snatched the weapon from the air and spun it with a bit of flourish.
“Fancy maneuvers won’t help you on a real battleground. Forget all that Hollywood stuff.” Reminded Solomon.
“Then let’s try this.” Said Michael, launching into a furious attack. Solomon parried each strike one by one, but then Michael slipped through and gave Solomon’s left arm a good whack. There was a crunch of bone.
“Ugh.” Growled Solomon, staggering off a bit. It would only take a minute or so for the bone to mend back. “Nice.” He complemented through clenched teeth. “Had that blade been sharpened, you would probably taken my arm. But you hit my left.” Solomon swung with his sword. Michael made to parry but wasn’t fast enough. Solomon’s blow struck on Michael’s jaw and sent him flying. “My sword is in the other hand.”
Michael spat out blood and stood back up. Like Solomon’s arm, his broken jaw would soon mend back.
“That looked like it hurt. Did that hurt, Michael?” asked Ernie hurriedly.
“I’ll live. He’s done worse.”
“Solomon shouldn’t be so mean.” Said Ernie emphatically. “It’s not nice.”
“Not nice would be letting him out there against the Scary One without proper training and conditioning. You still…” He swung at Michael again “…have a lot…” and again “…to learn.” And again.
An hour soon passed and they switched weapons from swords to staves. Michael proved to be less adept at the new weapon, but he’d been learning fast. From there, they went to knives. By midnight, they were done and the padding was once again slick with blood. Both considered it a good night and even Solomon had to admit that Michael was getting better.
“Alright,” admitted Solomon. “We’re done for tonight.”
“So when will I be ready to face this Scary One you two keep talking about?” Michael had adopted the child-Ernie’s nickname for their foe.
“Who knows?” admitted Solomon. “But it won't be for some time. You're far from ready.”
Michael had, of course, already some suspicion who the real identity of the “Scary One” was, but Solomon, Ernie, and Deborah had all three steadfastly refused to confirm or deny any of his guesses. Still, as he heard Solomon speak of Deborah’s plan (such as it was), his mind went to those same guesses.
“I’d not think that if I were you. What if you’re wrong and the Djinn decides to take you out first?” offered Ernie. “Or the Prince?”
“Or you.” Offered Michael in return. He'd seen enough of Ernie to know there was enough there to scare anyone, putting Ernie squarely on the short list of possibilities.
“Nah. I’m not the Scary One. Wait, maybe I am? Oh, my…What am I going to do with myself? Agh!” He got up and began to run about the room.
“Now look what you’ve done.” Said Solomon.
----
Michael and Solomon left Ernie to his insanity and headed back to Blacksburg. Michael decided to pick up where he’d left off when Solomon had fetched him for the night and asked to be dropped off as near to Slusher Tower as possible. Solomon did so and then sped off into the night.
Michael remembered the date: December 31. This time tomorrow would be the new year, and he was thankful it was not yet the holiday. Tomorrow’s revelry would make his purposes more difficult.
It was well after 1:00am now and the dorm was closed to non-residents. That would prove to be little hindrance to a vampire. Michael walked over to the wall and leaped up. With his enhanced senses and strength, finding and holding onto the smallest handholds was easy. He scaled the tower and set foot onto the roof.
To his surprise, he found Kris on that same roof. She saw him come up and she stood there before him quietly, shaking in fear.
Michael said nothing for a moment as he watched her. He found her terribly beautiful like this. She, in turn, said nothing either, only finding her voice after a few seconds.
“I knew you would come for me.” She admitted. She pulled the neck of her sweater aside to expose the skin beneath. “Do it. I won’t run.”
Michael hesitated. He was confused about this behavior. What was she offering? What was she thinking?
Michael walked over, the urge to feed strong, and to feed from one so willing was arousing. He took her into his arms and bit down at her proffered neck. She gasped for a moment as Michael drank. He felt her legs give out beneath her and he released her, gently laying her down onto the rooftop.
She was weak, but still conscious, panting with fear. “Why are you so frightened?” he asked.
“Because you’re going to kill me.”
“I could have done that at any time and have always chosen not to.” Said Michael. “You know nothing of my kind if you think we would so casually throw away one as valuable as you have proven to be. And you think little of me if you believe I’d so coldly murder someone I care about as much as I do you.” The honesty of his last statement surprised even Michael somewhat. He was not in love with Kris, he knew, but he did care for her.
“But isn’t that what monsters do? Isn’t that why you chose me? To take my life’s blood?”
“You’ve read too many stories.” Michael played with her hair affectionately. “If you were so convinced I meant to murder you, why stand waiting for me?”
“Because…” she swallowed. “you’ve made me happier than anyone ever has. And if all I was meant to have was these few short months before dying in your arms, then so be it. I couldn’t stay away, even as scared as I have been. I’m in love with you, Michael. My life is yours. Do with me as you will.”
Michael ran his fingers across her cheek, feeling the wetness of her frightened tears. He was utterly awestruck at her emotions. He could not believe that she would sacrifice her very life for nothing more than his pleasure. Such a gift was too great for him to accept.
“What I will is for you to live.” He said, choking up himself. Then an evil thought encroached on his mind. As powerful as her willingness was, he would never know if it was genuine or not. The blood bond was always there, twisting a beautiful moment into something ugly.
But it was all that he had. Its illusion would have to suffice.
She reached up and touched his face affectionately. “When the time comes, whenever you wish it to be, when I’m old and grey, or next year, or even tomorrow, promise me you’ll do it. My life is yours, and only you have the privilege to take it.”
“I promise.” whispered Michael. Illusion or not, Michael still could not believe her dedication, her loyalty. It was intoxicating, arousing. He slid his hand under her skirt to feel the warmth between her legs, discovering that he was not alone in finding it so.
Michael smiled as he entered her. Yes, there were illusions. Yes, there were regrets. But what a life he now had. Women beautiful and willing. Tutors to train him and make him powerful. A cadre of servants to provide for his every need. And all this in a mere ten weeks. With a new year ahead, he wondered what glories awaited him still.
Act Two Chapter One
Monday, November 22, 2010
New side bar
I recently added a new Hypster song list to the Philly by Night page. Most of the songs listed there are staples of either Sirius "Alt Nation" or "First Wave." The chapter title songs are also on there, including those chapters I've not yet finished or published. So enjoy.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Session One Part Two
The sun rises, the sun sets. A new night...
During the interim, John Murphy had used his resources at the Philadelphia Police Ballistics Lab to unlock the secret of the "sunlight rounds." He was not entirely successful, since metallurgy tests proved the bullets were perfectly normal. Also, tracing their manufacturing origin revealed nothing of consequence.
Finch, the werewolf computer hacker, was having better luck with the goons' cell phones. Speaking with the technology spirits of the phones, he was able to "overhear" a conversation (after using a program to translate the Spanish) regarding a meeting the gang members had with someone named Julian. The location the gang members spoke of as the venue for this meeting was traced to one Julian Stark, a known member of the werewolf community and a notorious arms dealer in the city. Finch kept this information to himself.
Following other clues, the group assembled and drove to the Fairhill neighborhood to track down the gang itself. After Finch acquired (with "Laura" altering the deal) their transportation, off they went. Their first stop was a rough looking bar in the center of town. Inside they found a number of patrons wearing gang colors, making it clear this place was neutral ground of sorts. One however bore the familiar marks of the "Family of the Devil" gang that attacked the water park the night before. This one was drowning his sorrows in Pepe Lopez at the end of the bar.
Laura headed over to console this lost soul, convincing him to join her outside for some "fun." There, she got him into the group's limo and tried to interrogate him somewhat unsuccessfully about the gang leader's whereabouts. Finch had better luck with his cell phone, gaining Angelino's (the gang leader) cell phone number and using GPS to track him. As they tried to force their prisoner into the trunk of the limo for safe keeping, he nearly escaped and would have if not for the quick thinking of Joshua. He used life magic to cripple the drunken but frightened gang member, and he was easily fetched back.
Next, they headed off to find Angelino. Using mind magic, Edward was able to separate Angelino from his bodyguards and convince him to join the group in the limo. However, when Dr. John used Dominate on him in an effort to get him to spill who hired the gang, Angelino keeled over dead.
Curious as to what sort of magic this might be, Joshua has contacted his mentor, a powerful mage in the city to investigate further. Likewise, Finch is soon to meet with Julian Stark to discuss "werewolf business." What new clues might they uncover? Guess we'll find out in Part Three.
During the interim, John Murphy had used his resources at the Philadelphia Police Ballistics Lab to unlock the secret of the "sunlight rounds." He was not entirely successful, since metallurgy tests proved the bullets were perfectly normal. Also, tracing their manufacturing origin revealed nothing of consequence.
Finch, the werewolf computer hacker, was having better luck with the goons' cell phones. Speaking with the technology spirits of the phones, he was able to "overhear" a conversation (after using a program to translate the Spanish) regarding a meeting the gang members had with someone named Julian. The location the gang members spoke of as the venue for this meeting was traced to one Julian Stark, a known member of the werewolf community and a notorious arms dealer in the city. Finch kept this information to himself.
Following other clues, the group assembled and drove to the Fairhill neighborhood to track down the gang itself. After Finch acquired (with "Laura" altering the deal) their transportation, off they went. Their first stop was a rough looking bar in the center of town. Inside they found a number of patrons wearing gang colors, making it clear this place was neutral ground of sorts. One however bore the familiar marks of the "Family of the Devil" gang that attacked the water park the night before. This one was drowning his sorrows in Pepe Lopez at the end of the bar.
Laura headed over to console this lost soul, convincing him to join her outside for some "fun." There, she got him into the group's limo and tried to interrogate him somewhat unsuccessfully about the gang leader's whereabouts. Finch had better luck with his cell phone, gaining Angelino's (the gang leader) cell phone number and using GPS to track him. As they tried to force their prisoner into the trunk of the limo for safe keeping, he nearly escaped and would have if not for the quick thinking of Joshua. He used life magic to cripple the drunken but frightened gang member, and he was easily fetched back.
Next, they headed off to find Angelino. Using mind magic, Edward was able to separate Angelino from his bodyguards and convince him to join the group in the limo. However, when Dr. John used Dominate on him in an effort to get him to spill who hired the gang, Angelino keeled over dead.
Curious as to what sort of magic this might be, Joshua has contacted his mentor, a powerful mage in the city to investigate further. Likewise, Finch is soon to meet with Julian Stark to discuss "werewolf business." What new clues might they uncover? Guess we'll find out in Part Three.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Act One Chapter Nine - Peace and Love, Inc.
Michael stepped inside the chapel at Roanoke College. Antrim Chapel was a fairly modern building, not much like a traditional church at all, but not so different that Michael could not figure out its layout quickly. His escort kept to himself at the back of the sanctuary, while Michael paced forward towards the altar. A solitary figure knelt before it in prayer.
“Isn’t a church a bit of an odd place for two vampires to meet?” said Michael. His voice seemed to echo about the room, but the figure before him did not stir.
After a long pause, the figure stood and turned. As Michael had suspected, it was Prince Mathias. He looked at Michael keenly. “Does it disturb you so much to be so close to Him again? To be in His house? To be before His altar?”
Michael shook his head. “Relics of a life I left behind. Nothing more.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Said Mathias. “I think that’s the lie you tell yourself, hoping you will one day believe it.”
“Is this why I’m here?”
“Mostly. You see, Michael, of all the new childer in the city you are the one that intrigues me the most. The others make sense. An old businessman dying of cancer. A forlorn mother looking for a substitute child. But you? Come into the Requiem only with the promise of revenge and an unlife of debauchery. Given your life before, I find it hard to believe you would trade what you had for so little.”
“I had nothing.”
“Did you really? You fell victim to what countless others before you had and yet you treated it like the end of the world. Had Deborah not been there, what would you have done?”
“A pointless question, mi’lord. What was done is what was done.”
“Is that so or do you avoid it because you don’t like its answer?”
“Even if I don’t, what difference does it make? I’ve been turned. I cannot go back.”
“No, you cannot become human again, but you can do more with your new life than just an endless party and thirst for revenge. You will soon grow bored with the endless parade of women. And this Rebecca? Even unmolested, she will grow old and die and you will remain. What then shall you do with yourself and with your life?”
Michael did not like hear Mathias toss Becca’s name about so casually. His tone grew angry. “You’d like me to dedicate myself to a higher cause, is that it? Come back into the fold of the church, or whatever vampiric equivalent exists. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, given what I’ve been told of your origins. Who you claim to be and all that.” He sneered out the last works, making no secret of his emotions.
Mathias seemed unfazed. “So you know my story. That I am the thirteenth apostle, chosen by lot to replace Judas Iscariot. I’m curious, that if you’ve known this for some time, why you’ve not come to me. Most who learn my origins always want to know what He was like. And yet, despite your own upbringing, you show no interest. You either don’t believe the story of my origins or you don’t want to know about the real Jesus.”
“Why not both?”
“In fairness, I suppose I can’t fault you for the first. We Kindred are not known for our devotion to the truth and you are right to suspect that it may just be another lie. But what if it isn’t? That could mean a lot of things, things I don’t think you want to face. That it could all be real. The stable birth, the teachings, the miracles, the cross, and the empty tomb. All of it.”
“And why does that matter?”
“You wear your defiance like a mask, hoping to conceal the truth. I’ve read your mind, your memories. There was a time when you believed it, all of it. And I think a part of you still does. That makes things worse, because it shows what all this is really about for you. It’s not about revenge on some girl or about an unending descend into licentiousness. It’s overt and deliberate revolt against your Lord.”
“And why not?”
“What do you suppose will happen when He tires of your defiance?”
“What’s he going to do? Damn me to hell? He’s already done that. Robbed me of the one thing I wanted most in life. After that, it didn’t matter any more. What worse could he do?”
“You think that because you died once that you need have no fear of it again. But few of us live out what would have been our normal mortal lifespan, let alone the ages that I have seen. None of us, mortal or immortal, seeks the reckoning that comes at the moment of our Final Death. But when you stand before him, when that day comes, what will you tell him?”
“That it was all his fault to begin with. He made me weak, a target for bullies and their ridicule and abuse. He made me never good enough for my parents. And he took away Rebecca. No, Mathias, I’m not interested in becoming one of your little vampire disciples. You speak of lies we tell ourselves. Yours is the idea that he cares about us at all. You need look no further than my life for proof of that.”
Mathias gained a crestfallen look. “I’m disappointed, Michael, but not terribly surprised. You have a spirit of wrath about you. Someday, it will get you into more trouble than you know. But you don’t care about that. You don’t really care about anything. Until it releases you, there’ll be no reasoning with you. You have my leave to go. Return to Blacksburg and to your revelry.”
Michael turned and headed out. As he reached the door, Mathias spoke again, his voice loud and cold. “If your trouble finds you while still in my domain, there will be consequences. Dire consequences.”
----
One of Mathias’ thralls drove Michael back to Blacksburg. The hour long ride was uneventful, giving Michael time to think about his conversation. Unlike his introduction to the Prince at the Akron-Tech game, his second meeting with Mathias was more nuisance than terrifying.
“Who the hell does he think he is?” snarled Michael in his mind. “Disgusting little mongrel. Maybe he’s Deborah’s secret enemy. It’ll be nice to be rid of him.”
When they arrived in Blacksburg, Michael instructed the thrall to drop him off outside Squires. It was a short walk over to Slusher and to Kris’s room. He marched over there with a quick pace, his thoughts angry and dark. The dorm monitor stopped him at the front door, and Michael restrained himself from ripping the poor girl to pieces…but only barely.
“Kris Keller.” Said Michael impatiently.
The dorm monitor looked Michael up and down, as if uncertain to allow the obviously agitated young man any further. But she relented after a few seconds, saying nothing, but motioning towards the telephone on the wall nearby.
Michael went over and dialed her room. Kris answered. “Mi’lord.”
“Meet me out front.” He ordered. He then turned and marched outside.
A few minutes later, Kris came down and walked outside. Michael was pacing angrily about the front of the building. His tone, his mannerisms, and body language had all set off a red flag in the dorm monitor who kept a close eye on Kris as she walked outside.
“Have you learned anything about our rival hacker?” Michael demanded.
“Not yet.”
“Why not?” Michael half-snarled.
“I’m sorry, mi’lord,” replied Kris meekly. “But these things take time. It’s only been…”
“I want to know who he is.”
“Please don’t be angry, but it’s only been a few days.”
“Don’t tell me not to be angry.” Michael’s voice rose and he saw the dorm monitor in the corner of his eye move away from the window. Most likely to call campus police, just in case. Knowing the stakes had just risen, he let out his breath and tried to calm down, “Just find out who he is.”
“I will, mi’lord.”
“Go, before that busybody of an RA calls the SWAT team.”
“Go?” said Kris, seemingly disappointed. Michael nodded. As he watched her go, he wondered at the power of the blood bond. He was hardly his usual charming self tonight and Kris still seemed disappointed he didn’t ask something lewd of her. Still, it was probably for the best. Kris was valuable, and with the mood he was in, Michael didn’t think he’d have his usual restraint.
That bothered him to some degree, so he spent the next several hours simply walking about campus to cool off. The December air helped. As dawn approached, he headed back to his apartment and made ready to go to sleep. As he undressed, he noticed something in the pocket of his pants, something he’d not noticed was there. He pulled it out. It was the business card Ernie had given him at the Akron game. He stared at the phone number on it.
“Wouldn’t that put a bee in Mathias’ bonnet to sign on to a New Age cult.” He thought to himself. He set his mind to call when he awoke at dusk to find out more of what Ernie’s little group was offering.
----
The phone call the next evening resulted in an invitation to a special ceremony, one to be conducted on the Winter Solstice. Michael figured that was as good a time as any to check out what Ernie was doing, and it seemed sufficiently New Age to do something on the longest night of the year. He invited Kris to join him, which she gladly accepted.
Kris drove the two of them to the abandoned storefront on Bullitt Ave. The place seemed innocuous enough. The store front had been redecorated. The glass had been made opaque by a thick coating of navy blue paint, upon which were various symbols: stars, the sun, the moon, rays of light, the all-seeing eye, etc. It struck Michael as the sort of place a vampire would hang, concealed from sunlight and just kooky enough to keep most folks away.
Michael had no idea what to expect when he entered, but he and Kris did so. To Michael’s surprise, it was Ernie who greeted them.
“Welcome, welcome, Michael. I am so pleased you could be with us tonight.” Said Ernie with restrained enthusiasm. It wasn’t just the cult or its facilities that remained a mystery to Michael; Ernie himself would be one also. Which of his myriad personalities would he manifest tonight?
“And you’re not alone.” Said Ernie to Kris. “What a lovely companion. I am Father Ernest Malenkov, and this is the Church of Light Incarnate. All are welcome here to explore the light within us.”
Kris nodded politely. “I’m Kris, Michael’s girlfriend.”
Michael smiled at that admission. It was not entirely true; Michael had never made any sort of pledge of fidelity to her. Nor had he kept any semblance of it with her; In the last two months he’d been with at least a dozen of other women, all primarily for the purpose of feeding. Yet, the only two he ever came back to repeatedly were Deborah (for somewhat obvious reasons) and Kris. Perhaps, in some strange way, she really was his girlfriend and Michael found he liked the idea.
Ernie seemed to notice his reaction, as muted as it was, to her comment. “It seems a new truth has come to light this evening.” He said. “A pledge of affection previously left unsaid.”
Kris blinked somewhat nervously at that. She had no experience with Ernie’s power of mind-reading and was taken aback at his ability to know their past.
“Is that how he controls his cult?” Michael wondered.
“Come. The others are gathered. Our ceremony for this evening will begin shortly.”
Further inside, past a few partitions that further blocked the central room from the windows to the outside, was something akin to a church sanctuary. Rows of folding chairs were set up like pews, all pointing towards the front were an elaborate altar rested. The altar was decorated in much the same manner as the windows: same symbols, same blue paint. But the symbols were bright, as if painted in real gold and Michael suspected the sunrise-shaped holy symbol atop the altar was genuine gold as well.
“Gold is the material most blessed by light.” Said Ernie, obviously reading their thoughts. “It is proper that we honor the light with implements of gold.”
“You can afford such a thing and yet we sit on folding chairs?” teased Michael irreverently.
If Ernie was annoyed at Michael’s mockery, he made no sign. “Prayer is not all that we do here, my young friend. You will learn that tonight.” He made his way past them and headed to the front, as Michael and Kris puzzled over his somewhat cryptic reply.
Michael and Kris continued to look about the sanctuary. There were roughly 20 or so people gathered, most of them Michael remembered from Ernie’s entourage at the Akron game. They ranged in age from early 50s to one girl who was probably 16 or 17 (She seemed to be the child of a middle-aged couple there.) Most were attired rather casually, in somewhat stereotypical New Age hippie fashion.
“This is interesting.” Said Kris. “He’s interesting.” She gave a nod towards Ernie at the front as he made ready for the ceremony.
“Oh?"
“It’s like he can read my mind. How?”
That pretty much set Michael’s mind about Ernie’s technique. “I don’t know. It must be a gift.” He half-lied.
“But from where?”
Michael chose not to answer that, but instead motioned to a nearby set of chairs. It seemed Ernie’s preparations were almost complete and the rest of the crowd was also finding places to sit down.
“Ah, my children.” Said Ernie in a booming pulpit voice. “Good evening and welcome. We come together on this the darkest of nights to shine forth our light, to beat back the darkness within and without. Let us turn inward and bring forth our light.”
The room fell silent, as if in prayer. After a minute or so, Ernie spoke again. “I sense darkness remains in our midst. One of us is burdened by evil thoughts and desires.” Ernie stepped down from the front and came into the midst of his congregation. Every head came back up and fixed on him.
Michael wondered if Ernie meant him. After all, Ernie had read his memory and no doubt knew, as Mathias did, of his anger. But Ernie did not walk back that far, stopping a few rows forward of Kris and Michael, next to a man in his mid-20s. “Tomas, my son, let us help you unburden your soul.”
The young man burst into tears. “Forgive me.” He pleaded. “The reporter, he offered money…”
“There are many jealous souls without who seek our secrets. And the temptations of darkness are hard to resist. I am not here to judge you, nor punish you for caving into them. Let us help you. Who will share their light with Tomas?”
Another man stood up. “When I was hungry the other day, you bought me lunch.”
A girl stood up. “When I was lonely, you talked with me.”
Most of the room, in turn, stood up and told of some good deed Tomas had done for them. As they did, Michael could see Ernie reach inside Tomas’ shirt to remove the wire he’d concealed within it. Tomas made no protest, but merely wept at each admission.
“Do you understand?” Ernie asked, quietly smashing the wire beneath his shoe. “Here you are loved, and you return that love. Here you have shared your light, as these testimonies prove, and now that light returns to you. Embrace it. Hold to it.”
“I will, Father, and I will never stray again.”
“How did he know?” whispered Kris. Michael continued to feign ignorance.
“What is it that we desire?” said Ernie as he came back to the front. “The darkness fools us, lies to us, convinces us that happiness and fulfillment come from what it offers. And what does it offer? Things, money, possessions. None of these fill the void in each of us and when we fill that void with them, our light fades…”
Michael ignored the content of Ernie’s sermonizing. It was random religious mumbo-jumbo, more patronizing than anything he’d ever heard in any church before. But, in the end, he knew that didn’t matter. Ernie had a captive audience in that crowd. No doubt each one of them had been on the business end of Ernie’s mind-reading power. Each one of them awed by it, convinced by it that Ernie was someone with unexplainable divine gifts, a prophet for a faithless time.
And like so many before him, he was a complete fraud. Just one far more convincing.
The ceremony went on for another 20 minutes or so, and consisted of a few more silent prayers, pledges of loyalty to “the light,” and then a final blessing. As the service concluded, the congregation gathered up the folding chairs and began to stack them against the left hand wall. A small number of volunteers went into a back room and then reemerged with trays of food and drink. Still others began to drag mats out onto the floor.
“Now, let us fellowship with one another and share the light.” Declared Ernie. The crowd converged on the offered refreshments. The spread looked pretty good. Kris headed over and helped herself. Michael hung back as Ernie approached.
“So, peace and love and all that.” Said Michael sardonically.
“Is that so bad a thing?” Ernie threw it back at him. Michael shrugged. “I think you will find that there are benefits to what the Church of Light Incarnate offers. Behold.” He gestured towards the back corner. Already two of the parishioners were intertwined in each others’ arms.
“Is that how you share the light around here?” said Michael sardonically, as he looked around the room. A few others, along the walls or on the mats on the floor, were showing varying degrees of physical affection. Nothing quite so extreme as the couple making out in the back, but there was a casual, even playful, honesty to the affections he was seeing.
“We each desire to love and to be loved.” Explained Ernie. “No expression of love, physical or spiritual, is rejected or taboo here. I know your heart, Michael. My words may not sway you much, nor my gifts to read the unreadable within you. But I can give you what you desire most. Watch as the light turns to passion within them.”
In the middle of the floor, one young woman had worked the pants of her companion down to his knees and she was now enthusiastically giving him a blow job. Michael glanced about. What had been casual touching was now heavy petting in many cases and full blown sex in others. All in just a few minutes. It seemed surreal.
“How?” Michael asked.
“The love is there, as is the desire to express it. They merely need permission to express it.” With that, Ernie walked away. Michael noticed he headed straight to Tomas, who still seemed somewhat distraught at his earlier moment of weakness.
Michael then felt a tug at his own trousers. He looked down to find Kris kneeling before him, working at his fly. One of Ernie’s parishioners moved up behind her, pulling up her sweater to expose her beautiful breasts. Seeing another be so bold with her and to see her so willing to permit it aroused Michael as he’d never been before. Kris worked down his pants, but his eyes were focused on the stranger caressing her.
This was going to be a fun night after all.
----
"Ah, my child, hast thou found fulfillment in this evening's revelry?" said Ernie, slowly donning his clergy vestments once more.
Even though he did not breathe any longer, Michael felt a sense of breathlessness. This evening had been nothing like anything he'd experienced before. "Yes, it was...fun."
"That was not what I asked. Do you feel fulfilled?" said Ernie. His gaze was piercing. "Or did you think this was all for mere pleasure?"
"What was it for, if not for that?" Michael felt confused. "What do you mean by fulfilled?"
"You came here in lack. If you no longer lack that thing, you are now fulfilled." said Ernie. "You came here lonely. Are you still?"
"I was not lonely when I came. I am not now."
"Are you not? The lies we tell ourselves are often transparent to others." chided Ernie. "Remember, your mind is open to me. You thoughts, your feelings are laid bare before me."
"If you can do that, then why the interrogation?" Michael grew annoyed.
"Because the answers are not for my benefit."
"No, but the journey you're trying to take me on is."
Ernie laughed, a loud raucous belly laugh that might have shook a lesser building. When he stopped, his countenance seemed to change. Had another of his personalities emerged?
"Now I understand." he said. The tone of his voice was different and Michael was now certain this was a new Ernie he was speaking to.
Michael said nothing, wondering what would happen next. Ernie continued. "The prophet was right. You are lonely, Michael, deep down. Deeper than even you know. Why else let Deborah do it? You traded your mortal life for the power to bed who you wish when you wish. It was so cheap a trade, I could hardly believe it. To give up so much for so little."
"I gave up nothing."
“So you think.” Ernie leaned in, his tone darkening. "Tell me, Michael, what you had tonight, would you like more?"
Michael shook his head. He did not like this new personality and he did not like where these questions were going.
"A lie. You’d like nothing better than to return to this again. You hunger for the thrill of the forbidden, all the things you once denied yourself. Admit it openly. You cannot lie to me."
"It was not I who denied them to myself."
"Another lie, although one born of ignorance. Of course you did. You're the one who chose so strict a moral code. No one forced that on you. That you discarded it so quickly and so casually shows what little loyalty you held to it. So I ask again, would you like more of what you had tonight?"
"No." said Michael, more adamant.
Ernie accepted his reply as truth this time. "And why not?" he asked.
"Because you will extract too high a price for me to have it again."
"But you still want it?" Ernie's eyes darted over Michael as if he were a scientist studying a lab specimen. "There may be hope for you yet. The first step in avoiding a trap is knowing its existence."
"Dune." answered Michael. He knew the origin of the quote.
Ernie ignored the aside. "You have passed my first lesson. Here is my second. A cult leader will always give or tell his flock what they want. That is the bait of the trap."
Michael nodded. "Am I caught in yours then?"
"Almost." said Ernie with a sinister grin. "I almost had you. But, for all your folly, you are not completely stupid. You may have some potential after all."
"Yet another lecture on how pathetic I am." snarled Michael to himself.
"If you wanted to avoid the harsh judgment of your peers, you should have stayed a mortal." said Ernie, reading his thoughts again. "But you didn't. And now you are a pawn in a game much greater than you know. With stakes much higher than you realize. Your destiny is written in fire and blood, young Michael. And unless you learn to become far more than you are, that destiny will consume you.”
“Poetic.” Said Michael sardonically.
Ernie gained an impatient look. “The defiance of youth, endemic among mortals and kindred. Suit yourself. You will learn one way or the other. A third lesson I offer you. Every vampire you encounter, without exception, is a cult leader of some sort. Now go. Return to your folly and may it not get you killed.”
----
Child, fool, pathetic, going to get yourself killed. He had gone to Ernie to taunt the Prince and his dire prognosis of Michael’s unlife. Now he was hearing the same words echoed once more. He walked out into the cult’s sanctuary, looking for Kris. She was amidst the bodies, now half-asleep from their revelry, all naked and looking quite contented with the night’s activities.
“Kris, it is time to leave.” Michael said insistently. “Get your clothes.”
She stirred and came to her feet, although somewhat shaky. “I think I’m drunk.” She admitted.
“The refreshments were spiked. Some sort of aphrodisiac.” It was a suspicion. While Michael could believe that the congregation, conditioned by months of Ernie’s “gifts” and preaching, would shed their inhibitions so easily, he knew there had to be something else for Kris, a first time visitor, to do so.
“My clothes.” Kris seemed to grow conscious of her nudity in the midst of so many strangers. Michael wondered if she remembered any of what she had done that night or allowed be done to her.
“Over here, I think. Long skirt, t-shirt, wool sweater.” He proffered the items from the cubby along the wall. Kris fetched them and dressed hurriedly.
“Did I…did we…” she seemed confused.
“We did. Let’s not speak of it. Come. Let’s get back to Blacksburg.”
Act One Chapter Ten
“Isn’t a church a bit of an odd place for two vampires to meet?” said Michael. His voice seemed to echo about the room, but the figure before him did not stir.
After a long pause, the figure stood and turned. As Michael had suspected, it was Prince Mathias. He looked at Michael keenly. “Does it disturb you so much to be so close to Him again? To be in His house? To be before His altar?”
Michael shook his head. “Relics of a life I left behind. Nothing more.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Said Mathias. “I think that’s the lie you tell yourself, hoping you will one day believe it.”
“Is this why I’m here?”
“Mostly. You see, Michael, of all the new childer in the city you are the one that intrigues me the most. The others make sense. An old businessman dying of cancer. A forlorn mother looking for a substitute child. But you? Come into the Requiem only with the promise of revenge and an unlife of debauchery. Given your life before, I find it hard to believe you would trade what you had for so little.”
“I had nothing.”
“Did you really? You fell victim to what countless others before you had and yet you treated it like the end of the world. Had Deborah not been there, what would you have done?”
“A pointless question, mi’lord. What was done is what was done.”
“Is that so or do you avoid it because you don’t like its answer?”
“Even if I don’t, what difference does it make? I’ve been turned. I cannot go back.”
“No, you cannot become human again, but you can do more with your new life than just an endless party and thirst for revenge. You will soon grow bored with the endless parade of women. And this Rebecca? Even unmolested, she will grow old and die and you will remain. What then shall you do with yourself and with your life?”
Michael did not like hear Mathias toss Becca’s name about so casually. His tone grew angry. “You’d like me to dedicate myself to a higher cause, is that it? Come back into the fold of the church, or whatever vampiric equivalent exists. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, given what I’ve been told of your origins. Who you claim to be and all that.” He sneered out the last works, making no secret of his emotions.
Mathias seemed unfazed. “So you know my story. That I am the thirteenth apostle, chosen by lot to replace Judas Iscariot. I’m curious, that if you’ve known this for some time, why you’ve not come to me. Most who learn my origins always want to know what He was like. And yet, despite your own upbringing, you show no interest. You either don’t believe the story of my origins or you don’t want to know about the real Jesus.”
“Why not both?”
“In fairness, I suppose I can’t fault you for the first. We Kindred are not known for our devotion to the truth and you are right to suspect that it may just be another lie. But what if it isn’t? That could mean a lot of things, things I don’t think you want to face. That it could all be real. The stable birth, the teachings, the miracles, the cross, and the empty tomb. All of it.”
“And why does that matter?”
“You wear your defiance like a mask, hoping to conceal the truth. I’ve read your mind, your memories. There was a time when you believed it, all of it. And I think a part of you still does. That makes things worse, because it shows what all this is really about for you. It’s not about revenge on some girl or about an unending descend into licentiousness. It’s overt and deliberate revolt against your Lord.”
“And why not?”
“What do you suppose will happen when He tires of your defiance?”
“What’s he going to do? Damn me to hell? He’s already done that. Robbed me of the one thing I wanted most in life. After that, it didn’t matter any more. What worse could he do?”
“You think that because you died once that you need have no fear of it again. But few of us live out what would have been our normal mortal lifespan, let alone the ages that I have seen. None of us, mortal or immortal, seeks the reckoning that comes at the moment of our Final Death. But when you stand before him, when that day comes, what will you tell him?”
“That it was all his fault to begin with. He made me weak, a target for bullies and their ridicule and abuse. He made me never good enough for my parents. And he took away Rebecca. No, Mathias, I’m not interested in becoming one of your little vampire disciples. You speak of lies we tell ourselves. Yours is the idea that he cares about us at all. You need look no further than my life for proof of that.”
Mathias gained a crestfallen look. “I’m disappointed, Michael, but not terribly surprised. You have a spirit of wrath about you. Someday, it will get you into more trouble than you know. But you don’t care about that. You don’t really care about anything. Until it releases you, there’ll be no reasoning with you. You have my leave to go. Return to Blacksburg and to your revelry.”
Michael turned and headed out. As he reached the door, Mathias spoke again, his voice loud and cold. “If your trouble finds you while still in my domain, there will be consequences. Dire consequences.”
----
One of Mathias’ thralls drove Michael back to Blacksburg. The hour long ride was uneventful, giving Michael time to think about his conversation. Unlike his introduction to the Prince at the Akron-Tech game, his second meeting with Mathias was more nuisance than terrifying.
“Who the hell does he think he is?” snarled Michael in his mind. “Disgusting little mongrel. Maybe he’s Deborah’s secret enemy. It’ll be nice to be rid of him.”
When they arrived in Blacksburg, Michael instructed the thrall to drop him off outside Squires. It was a short walk over to Slusher and to Kris’s room. He marched over there with a quick pace, his thoughts angry and dark. The dorm monitor stopped him at the front door, and Michael restrained himself from ripping the poor girl to pieces…but only barely.
“Kris Keller.” Said Michael impatiently.
The dorm monitor looked Michael up and down, as if uncertain to allow the obviously agitated young man any further. But she relented after a few seconds, saying nothing, but motioning towards the telephone on the wall nearby.
Michael went over and dialed her room. Kris answered. “Mi’lord.”
“Meet me out front.” He ordered. He then turned and marched outside.
A few minutes later, Kris came down and walked outside. Michael was pacing angrily about the front of the building. His tone, his mannerisms, and body language had all set off a red flag in the dorm monitor who kept a close eye on Kris as she walked outside.
“Have you learned anything about our rival hacker?” Michael demanded.
“Not yet.”
“Why not?” Michael half-snarled.
“I’m sorry, mi’lord,” replied Kris meekly. “But these things take time. It’s only been…”
“I want to know who he is.”
“Please don’t be angry, but it’s only been a few days.”
“Don’t tell me not to be angry.” Michael’s voice rose and he saw the dorm monitor in the corner of his eye move away from the window. Most likely to call campus police, just in case. Knowing the stakes had just risen, he let out his breath and tried to calm down, “Just find out who he is.”
“I will, mi’lord.”
“Go, before that busybody of an RA calls the SWAT team.”
“Go?” said Kris, seemingly disappointed. Michael nodded. As he watched her go, he wondered at the power of the blood bond. He was hardly his usual charming self tonight and Kris still seemed disappointed he didn’t ask something lewd of her. Still, it was probably for the best. Kris was valuable, and with the mood he was in, Michael didn’t think he’d have his usual restraint.
That bothered him to some degree, so he spent the next several hours simply walking about campus to cool off. The December air helped. As dawn approached, he headed back to his apartment and made ready to go to sleep. As he undressed, he noticed something in the pocket of his pants, something he’d not noticed was there. He pulled it out. It was the business card Ernie had given him at the Akron game. He stared at the phone number on it.
“Wouldn’t that put a bee in Mathias’ bonnet to sign on to a New Age cult.” He thought to himself. He set his mind to call when he awoke at dusk to find out more of what Ernie’s little group was offering.
----
The phone call the next evening resulted in an invitation to a special ceremony, one to be conducted on the Winter Solstice. Michael figured that was as good a time as any to check out what Ernie was doing, and it seemed sufficiently New Age to do something on the longest night of the year. He invited Kris to join him, which she gladly accepted.
Kris drove the two of them to the abandoned storefront on Bullitt Ave. The place seemed innocuous enough. The store front had been redecorated. The glass had been made opaque by a thick coating of navy blue paint, upon which were various symbols: stars, the sun, the moon, rays of light, the all-seeing eye, etc. It struck Michael as the sort of place a vampire would hang, concealed from sunlight and just kooky enough to keep most folks away.
Michael had no idea what to expect when he entered, but he and Kris did so. To Michael’s surprise, it was Ernie who greeted them.
“Welcome, welcome, Michael. I am so pleased you could be with us tonight.” Said Ernie with restrained enthusiasm. It wasn’t just the cult or its facilities that remained a mystery to Michael; Ernie himself would be one also. Which of his myriad personalities would he manifest tonight?
“And you’re not alone.” Said Ernie to Kris. “What a lovely companion. I am Father Ernest Malenkov, and this is the Church of Light Incarnate. All are welcome here to explore the light within us.”
Kris nodded politely. “I’m Kris, Michael’s girlfriend.”
Michael smiled at that admission. It was not entirely true; Michael had never made any sort of pledge of fidelity to her. Nor had he kept any semblance of it with her; In the last two months he’d been with at least a dozen of other women, all primarily for the purpose of feeding. Yet, the only two he ever came back to repeatedly were Deborah (for somewhat obvious reasons) and Kris. Perhaps, in some strange way, she really was his girlfriend and Michael found he liked the idea.
Ernie seemed to notice his reaction, as muted as it was, to her comment. “It seems a new truth has come to light this evening.” He said. “A pledge of affection previously left unsaid.”
Kris blinked somewhat nervously at that. She had no experience with Ernie’s power of mind-reading and was taken aback at his ability to know their past.
“Is that how he controls his cult?” Michael wondered.
“Come. The others are gathered. Our ceremony for this evening will begin shortly.”
Further inside, past a few partitions that further blocked the central room from the windows to the outside, was something akin to a church sanctuary. Rows of folding chairs were set up like pews, all pointing towards the front were an elaborate altar rested. The altar was decorated in much the same manner as the windows: same symbols, same blue paint. But the symbols were bright, as if painted in real gold and Michael suspected the sunrise-shaped holy symbol atop the altar was genuine gold as well.
“Gold is the material most blessed by light.” Said Ernie, obviously reading their thoughts. “It is proper that we honor the light with implements of gold.”
“You can afford such a thing and yet we sit on folding chairs?” teased Michael irreverently.
If Ernie was annoyed at Michael’s mockery, he made no sign. “Prayer is not all that we do here, my young friend. You will learn that tonight.” He made his way past them and headed to the front, as Michael and Kris puzzled over his somewhat cryptic reply.
Michael and Kris continued to look about the sanctuary. There were roughly 20 or so people gathered, most of them Michael remembered from Ernie’s entourage at the Akron game. They ranged in age from early 50s to one girl who was probably 16 or 17 (She seemed to be the child of a middle-aged couple there.) Most were attired rather casually, in somewhat stereotypical New Age hippie fashion.
“This is interesting.” Said Kris. “He’s interesting.” She gave a nod towards Ernie at the front as he made ready for the ceremony.
“Oh?"
“It’s like he can read my mind. How?”
That pretty much set Michael’s mind about Ernie’s technique. “I don’t know. It must be a gift.” He half-lied.
“But from where?”
Michael chose not to answer that, but instead motioned to a nearby set of chairs. It seemed Ernie’s preparations were almost complete and the rest of the crowd was also finding places to sit down.
“Ah, my children.” Said Ernie in a booming pulpit voice. “Good evening and welcome. We come together on this the darkest of nights to shine forth our light, to beat back the darkness within and without. Let us turn inward and bring forth our light.”
The room fell silent, as if in prayer. After a minute or so, Ernie spoke again. “I sense darkness remains in our midst. One of us is burdened by evil thoughts and desires.” Ernie stepped down from the front and came into the midst of his congregation. Every head came back up and fixed on him.
Michael wondered if Ernie meant him. After all, Ernie had read his memory and no doubt knew, as Mathias did, of his anger. But Ernie did not walk back that far, stopping a few rows forward of Kris and Michael, next to a man in his mid-20s. “Tomas, my son, let us help you unburden your soul.”
The young man burst into tears. “Forgive me.” He pleaded. “The reporter, he offered money…”
“There are many jealous souls without who seek our secrets. And the temptations of darkness are hard to resist. I am not here to judge you, nor punish you for caving into them. Let us help you. Who will share their light with Tomas?”
Another man stood up. “When I was hungry the other day, you bought me lunch.”
A girl stood up. “When I was lonely, you talked with me.”
Most of the room, in turn, stood up and told of some good deed Tomas had done for them. As they did, Michael could see Ernie reach inside Tomas’ shirt to remove the wire he’d concealed within it. Tomas made no protest, but merely wept at each admission.
“Do you understand?” Ernie asked, quietly smashing the wire beneath his shoe. “Here you are loved, and you return that love. Here you have shared your light, as these testimonies prove, and now that light returns to you. Embrace it. Hold to it.”
“I will, Father, and I will never stray again.”
“How did he know?” whispered Kris. Michael continued to feign ignorance.
“What is it that we desire?” said Ernie as he came back to the front. “The darkness fools us, lies to us, convinces us that happiness and fulfillment come from what it offers. And what does it offer? Things, money, possessions. None of these fill the void in each of us and when we fill that void with them, our light fades…”
Michael ignored the content of Ernie’s sermonizing. It was random religious mumbo-jumbo, more patronizing than anything he’d ever heard in any church before. But, in the end, he knew that didn’t matter. Ernie had a captive audience in that crowd. No doubt each one of them had been on the business end of Ernie’s mind-reading power. Each one of them awed by it, convinced by it that Ernie was someone with unexplainable divine gifts, a prophet for a faithless time.
And like so many before him, he was a complete fraud. Just one far more convincing.
The ceremony went on for another 20 minutes or so, and consisted of a few more silent prayers, pledges of loyalty to “the light,” and then a final blessing. As the service concluded, the congregation gathered up the folding chairs and began to stack them against the left hand wall. A small number of volunteers went into a back room and then reemerged with trays of food and drink. Still others began to drag mats out onto the floor.
“Now, let us fellowship with one another and share the light.” Declared Ernie. The crowd converged on the offered refreshments. The spread looked pretty good. Kris headed over and helped herself. Michael hung back as Ernie approached.
“So, peace and love and all that.” Said Michael sardonically.
“Is that so bad a thing?” Ernie threw it back at him. Michael shrugged. “I think you will find that there are benefits to what the Church of Light Incarnate offers. Behold.” He gestured towards the back corner. Already two of the parishioners were intertwined in each others’ arms.
“Is that how you share the light around here?” said Michael sardonically, as he looked around the room. A few others, along the walls or on the mats on the floor, were showing varying degrees of physical affection. Nothing quite so extreme as the couple making out in the back, but there was a casual, even playful, honesty to the affections he was seeing.
“We each desire to love and to be loved.” Explained Ernie. “No expression of love, physical or spiritual, is rejected or taboo here. I know your heart, Michael. My words may not sway you much, nor my gifts to read the unreadable within you. But I can give you what you desire most. Watch as the light turns to passion within them.”
In the middle of the floor, one young woman had worked the pants of her companion down to his knees and she was now enthusiastically giving him a blow job. Michael glanced about. What had been casual touching was now heavy petting in many cases and full blown sex in others. All in just a few minutes. It seemed surreal.
“How?” Michael asked.
“The love is there, as is the desire to express it. They merely need permission to express it.” With that, Ernie walked away. Michael noticed he headed straight to Tomas, who still seemed somewhat distraught at his earlier moment of weakness.
Michael then felt a tug at his own trousers. He looked down to find Kris kneeling before him, working at his fly. One of Ernie’s parishioners moved up behind her, pulling up her sweater to expose her beautiful breasts. Seeing another be so bold with her and to see her so willing to permit it aroused Michael as he’d never been before. Kris worked down his pants, but his eyes were focused on the stranger caressing her.
This was going to be a fun night after all.
----
"Ah, my child, hast thou found fulfillment in this evening's revelry?" said Ernie, slowly donning his clergy vestments once more.
Even though he did not breathe any longer, Michael felt a sense of breathlessness. This evening had been nothing like anything he'd experienced before. "Yes, it was...fun."
"That was not what I asked. Do you feel fulfilled?" said Ernie. His gaze was piercing. "Or did you think this was all for mere pleasure?"
"What was it for, if not for that?" Michael felt confused. "What do you mean by fulfilled?"
"You came here in lack. If you no longer lack that thing, you are now fulfilled." said Ernie. "You came here lonely. Are you still?"
"I was not lonely when I came. I am not now."
"Are you not? The lies we tell ourselves are often transparent to others." chided Ernie. "Remember, your mind is open to me. You thoughts, your feelings are laid bare before me."
"If you can do that, then why the interrogation?" Michael grew annoyed.
"Because the answers are not for my benefit."
"No, but the journey you're trying to take me on is."
Ernie laughed, a loud raucous belly laugh that might have shook a lesser building. When he stopped, his countenance seemed to change. Had another of his personalities emerged?
"Now I understand." he said. The tone of his voice was different and Michael was now certain this was a new Ernie he was speaking to.
Michael said nothing, wondering what would happen next. Ernie continued. "The prophet was right. You are lonely, Michael, deep down. Deeper than even you know. Why else let Deborah do it? You traded your mortal life for the power to bed who you wish when you wish. It was so cheap a trade, I could hardly believe it. To give up so much for so little."
"I gave up nothing."
“So you think.” Ernie leaned in, his tone darkening. "Tell me, Michael, what you had tonight, would you like more?"
Michael shook his head. He did not like this new personality and he did not like where these questions were going.
"A lie. You’d like nothing better than to return to this again. You hunger for the thrill of the forbidden, all the things you once denied yourself. Admit it openly. You cannot lie to me."
"It was not I who denied them to myself."
"Another lie, although one born of ignorance. Of course you did. You're the one who chose so strict a moral code. No one forced that on you. That you discarded it so quickly and so casually shows what little loyalty you held to it. So I ask again, would you like more of what you had tonight?"
"No." said Michael, more adamant.
Ernie accepted his reply as truth this time. "And why not?" he asked.
"Because you will extract too high a price for me to have it again."
"But you still want it?" Ernie's eyes darted over Michael as if he were a scientist studying a lab specimen. "There may be hope for you yet. The first step in avoiding a trap is knowing its existence."
"Dune." answered Michael. He knew the origin of the quote.
Ernie ignored the aside. "You have passed my first lesson. Here is my second. A cult leader will always give or tell his flock what they want. That is the bait of the trap."
Michael nodded. "Am I caught in yours then?"
"Almost." said Ernie with a sinister grin. "I almost had you. But, for all your folly, you are not completely stupid. You may have some potential after all."
"Yet another lecture on how pathetic I am." snarled Michael to himself.
"If you wanted to avoid the harsh judgment of your peers, you should have stayed a mortal." said Ernie, reading his thoughts again. "But you didn't. And now you are a pawn in a game much greater than you know. With stakes much higher than you realize. Your destiny is written in fire and blood, young Michael. And unless you learn to become far more than you are, that destiny will consume you.”
“Poetic.” Said Michael sardonically.
Ernie gained an impatient look. “The defiance of youth, endemic among mortals and kindred. Suit yourself. You will learn one way or the other. A third lesson I offer you. Every vampire you encounter, without exception, is a cult leader of some sort. Now go. Return to your folly and may it not get you killed.”
----
Child, fool, pathetic, going to get yourself killed. He had gone to Ernie to taunt the Prince and his dire prognosis of Michael’s unlife. Now he was hearing the same words echoed once more. He walked out into the cult’s sanctuary, looking for Kris. She was amidst the bodies, now half-asleep from their revelry, all naked and looking quite contented with the night’s activities.
“Kris, it is time to leave.” Michael said insistently. “Get your clothes.”
She stirred and came to her feet, although somewhat shaky. “I think I’m drunk.” She admitted.
“The refreshments were spiked. Some sort of aphrodisiac.” It was a suspicion. While Michael could believe that the congregation, conditioned by months of Ernie’s “gifts” and preaching, would shed their inhibitions so easily, he knew there had to be something else for Kris, a first time visitor, to do so.
“My clothes.” Kris seemed to grow conscious of her nudity in the midst of so many strangers. Michael wondered if she remembered any of what she had done that night or allowed be done to her.
“Over here, I think. Long skirt, t-shirt, wool sweater.” He proffered the items from the cubby along the wall. Kris fetched them and dressed hurriedly.
“Did I…did we…” she seemed confused.
“We did. Let’s not speak of it. Come. Let’s get back to Blacksburg.”
Act One Chapter Ten
Session One Part One
Last Thursday, our intrepid band of anti-heroes had their debut.
Damian Drake, Ventrue vampire and Primogen of the Invictus in Philadelphia, commissioned Dr. John Murphy, a Nosferatu of his covenant, to find a way to bolster security at Prince Michael Allens' annual Labor Day celebration. If successful, this would give Dr. Murphy considerable prestige in the Invictus.
Dr. John did just that, putting together a team made up of Joshua, a martial artist mage, Edward, an Illuminati conspirator (also a mage), Nix/Laura, a cat burglar with MPD (vampire), Finch, a computer security specialist (werewolf), and himself. On the day of the party, Sept 1, 2012, they gathered at the venue, a new water park the Prince had built to bring some new economic investment to his beleaguered city.
At the party, our intrepid band laid low for the most part, with only Dr. John really trying to hobnob among the high and mighty. The group was, directly or indirectly, introduced to Prince Michael, Rebecca Philips, Damian Drake, "Mitch" Mitchell, "Boar" Boorman, and Jon Benton. The latter seemed suspicious to Dr. John, who kept a close eye on the Gangrel. They also met the mage ambassador, a British professor by the name of Reginald Skelmsdale.
However, around midnight, all hell broke loose when a group of gang members stormed the facility and began shooting the guests. They were attacking with antiquated Tommy Guns, which appeared to be using some sort of "sunlight" rounds. Dr. John's squad defeated or drove off the gang members after a pitched battle, but roughly a half dozen or so Kindred had been sent to torpor by the attack.
The Prince, infuriated by this attack on his sovereignty, has now demanded the PCs find the culprit responsible for this. Their investigations have given them several clues, most pointing towards the mysterious "Chupacabra."
But to where will their investigations take them next? Tonight we find out in Part Two.
Damian Drake, Ventrue vampire and Primogen of the Invictus in Philadelphia, commissioned Dr. John Murphy, a Nosferatu of his covenant, to find a way to bolster security at Prince Michael Allens' annual Labor Day celebration. If successful, this would give Dr. Murphy considerable prestige in the Invictus.
Dr. John did just that, putting together a team made up of Joshua, a martial artist mage, Edward, an Illuminati conspirator (also a mage), Nix/Laura, a cat burglar with MPD (vampire), Finch, a computer security specialist (werewolf), and himself. On the day of the party, Sept 1, 2012, they gathered at the venue, a new water park the Prince had built to bring some new economic investment to his beleaguered city.
At the party, our intrepid band laid low for the most part, with only Dr. John really trying to hobnob among the high and mighty. The group was, directly or indirectly, introduced to Prince Michael, Rebecca Philips, Damian Drake, "Mitch" Mitchell, "Boar" Boorman, and Jon Benton. The latter seemed suspicious to Dr. John, who kept a close eye on the Gangrel. They also met the mage ambassador, a British professor by the name of Reginald Skelmsdale.
However, around midnight, all hell broke loose when a group of gang members stormed the facility and began shooting the guests. They were attacking with antiquated Tommy Guns, which appeared to be using some sort of "sunlight" rounds. Dr. John's squad defeated or drove off the gang members after a pitched battle, but roughly a half dozen or so Kindred had been sent to torpor by the attack.
The Prince, infuriated by this attack on his sovereignty, has now demanded the PCs find the culprit responsible for this. Their investigations have given them several clues, most pointing towards the mysterious "Chupacabra."
But to where will their investigations take them next? Tonight we find out in Part Two.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Return of the Gaunt Man
I love Halloween. It's the one time of year that Goth subculture goes mainstream. Vampires become scary again. And I can dress up (sort of).
I have to admit that in most ways I'm a fake Goth. No black eyeliner or fingernail polish for me. It would look pretty stupid on a guy who's pushing 40 anyway, but even when I was younger that didn't appeal to me. As far as I got was wearing all black most of the time.
Goth to me was attitude, not appearance. It was anger and sorrow that my life didn't work out the way I wanted to, the same sort of anger that drives Michael as a character. It was lament-filled music like The Cure and Depeche Mode; it was drowning your grief in excess.
Nearly all that, I've put behind me, as my October 16 post said. But sometimes, I still adopt the attitude again, around this time of year, just for old times sake. And when I do that, I don the black once more.
The one piece of the old garb I still have is my black fedora. My friends call it "The Gaunt Man Hat," after the primary villain in the old TORG roleplaying game. Back in the day, I actually looked the part, tall, thin, with a black trench coat as the other main accessory. The trench is gone, but the hat remains.
I may not be the 20 year old skinny college student anymore, but I can still do dark and sinister pretty well. Thanks to my wife for the awesome pic.
I have to admit that in most ways I'm a fake Goth. No black eyeliner or fingernail polish for me. It would look pretty stupid on a guy who's pushing 40 anyway, but even when I was younger that didn't appeal to me. As far as I got was wearing all black most of the time.
Goth to me was attitude, not appearance. It was anger and sorrow that my life didn't work out the way I wanted to, the same sort of anger that drives Michael as a character. It was lament-filled music like The Cure and Depeche Mode; it was drowning your grief in excess.
Nearly all that, I've put behind me, as my October 16 post said. But sometimes, I still adopt the attitude again, around this time of year, just for old times sake. And when I do that, I don the black once more.
The one piece of the old garb I still have is my black fedora. My friends call it "The Gaunt Man Hat," after the primary villain in the old TORG roleplaying game. Back in the day, I actually looked the part, tall, thin, with a black trench coat as the other main accessory. The trench is gone, but the hat remains.
I may not be the 20 year old skinny college student anymore, but I can still do dark and sinister pretty well. Thanks to my wife for the awesome pic.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
A macabre anniversary
It is strange all the things that get stuck in our memories over the years. Today is the anniversary of one of the most painful and important days of my life. And yet, after 18 years, the exact events of the day are hardly worth mentioning. The only real significance they have is fodder for the fan fiction I've been presenting on these pages.
It was 18 years ago today that the real life Rebecca (i.e. the person on whom the Rebecca character is based) walked out of my life and broke my heart. As I said, the exact events of the day are little more than fodder for this story, but for those curious, the events in Chapter 3 are almost an exact play-by-play of that fateful day, even down to the wording of her final letter and our phone conversation.
I remember the events as a historian might look back on some event in history. Their emotional impact has long faded away. Well, mostly. You put Pictures of You by the Cure on the radio for me and it's October 16, 1992 all over again. That's probably the only time I ever feel that day as opposed to merely remember it.
But for the most part, none of what happened that day really matters anymore. Yes, it was the catalyst that eventually brought me to my chosen vocation. But I've since married a wonderful woman named Sarah, who brought with her a lovely little girl I am proud to call my daughter. I have everything Michael believed he could never have.
Oh, and as for "Rebecca" herself. Our modern era being what it is, I now count her among my Facebook friends. I'm eagerly looking forward to seeing her face-to-face again, along with the new boyfriend who's made her so happy these past few years. She's actually prettier now in her 30s than she was in her teens, but that ship has sailed.
So I'm going to give Pictures of You a listen to and dedicate it to that fateful day nearly 20 years ago now when I could have become Michael, but instead ended up here.
It was 18 years ago today that the real life Rebecca (i.e. the person on whom the Rebecca character is based) walked out of my life and broke my heart. As I said, the exact events of the day are little more than fodder for this story, but for those curious, the events in Chapter 3 are almost an exact play-by-play of that fateful day, even down to the wording of her final letter and our phone conversation.
I remember the events as a historian might look back on some event in history. Their emotional impact has long faded away. Well, mostly. You put Pictures of You by the Cure on the radio for me and it's October 16, 1992 all over again. That's probably the only time I ever feel that day as opposed to merely remember it.
But for the most part, none of what happened that day really matters anymore. Yes, it was the catalyst that eventually brought me to my chosen vocation. But I've since married a wonderful woman named Sarah, who brought with her a lovely little girl I am proud to call my daughter. I have everything Michael believed he could never have.
Oh, and as for "Rebecca" herself. Our modern era being what it is, I now count her among my Facebook friends. I'm eagerly looking forward to seeing her face-to-face again, along with the new boyfriend who's made her so happy these past few years. She's actually prettier now in her 30s than she was in her teens, but that ship has sailed.
So I'm going to give Pictures of You a listen to and dedicate it to that fateful day nearly 20 years ago now when I could have become Michael, but instead ended up here.
Friday, October 15, 2010
The Craft of Writing
Reading through the iDrakula app that I mentioned earlier on this blog, I'm reminded once again that good storytelling isn't just plot, it's also presentation.
The plot of my World of Darkness fan fiction has been largely fixed for well over ten years, partly because I actually played Michael as a role-playing character through some of these adventures, but also because I filled in the gaps of his story a long time ago.
But the question that I've been struggling with over these past few months as I've put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, as it were) is how to tell the plot that's been archived in my brain for all those years.
Every author has to answer that question. Bram Stroker chose to write Dracula as a series of journal entries, a move which inspired the app author to update the story in the way she did.
I had a plan to tell Michael's story via character point of view, very much like the way George R. R. Martin is writing The Song of Ice and Fire novels. You can see some of this in the first chapter of my fan fiction, which is told largely from Boar's point of view. Some of the chapters in Act Two are told from Rebecca's PoV also, but as I worked on the story more and more, I began to abandon this approach. Now most everything is told from Michael's viewpoint, although I stray from time to time to other characters to forward various plot points. This becomes more frequent in Act Two, which hasn't hit the website yet, but you can see it with Ernie's little spying expedition at the end of Chapter 7.
The question for me now is whether I keep these relics of my prior plan or rewrite them?
I think the Boar chapter works, the Ernie segment is small enough to not feel out of place, but the Rebecca chapters don't feel like they're working to me. Neither does the chapter before Rebecca makes her reappearance in the story. It was set up to introduce werewolves and mages into the story (I've since moved the mage introduction to the chapter I posted today) and was told largely from their point of view. It doesn't work, and still doesn't in my opinion.
A lot of this is academic to you, my readers, since you don't have any of the material I'm questioning at this point. But I wanted to give you a little glimpse into the creative process here. I know this is just a fan fiction, but I want to tell a good story. And if I'm to do that, these are the sorts of things I have to wrestle with.
And I need to resolve this quick, because I'm quickly running out of Act One material to publish. Only a couple more chapters to go.
The plot of my World of Darkness fan fiction has been largely fixed for well over ten years, partly because I actually played Michael as a role-playing character through some of these adventures, but also because I filled in the gaps of his story a long time ago.
But the question that I've been struggling with over these past few months as I've put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, as it were) is how to tell the plot that's been archived in my brain for all those years.
Every author has to answer that question. Bram Stroker chose to write Dracula as a series of journal entries, a move which inspired the app author to update the story in the way she did.
I had a plan to tell Michael's story via character point of view, very much like the way George R. R. Martin is writing The Song of Ice and Fire novels. You can see some of this in the first chapter of my fan fiction, which is told largely from Boar's point of view. Some of the chapters in Act Two are told from Rebecca's PoV also, but as I worked on the story more and more, I began to abandon this approach. Now most everything is told from Michael's viewpoint, although I stray from time to time to other characters to forward various plot points. This becomes more frequent in Act Two, which hasn't hit the website yet, but you can see it with Ernie's little spying expedition at the end of Chapter 7.
The question for me now is whether I keep these relics of my prior plan or rewrite them?
I think the Boar chapter works, the Ernie segment is small enough to not feel out of place, but the Rebecca chapters don't feel like they're working to me. Neither does the chapter before Rebecca makes her reappearance in the story. It was set up to introduce werewolves and mages into the story (I've since moved the mage introduction to the chapter I posted today) and was told largely from their point of view. It doesn't work, and still doesn't in my opinion.
A lot of this is academic to you, my readers, since you don't have any of the material I'm questioning at this point. But I wanted to give you a little glimpse into the creative process here. I know this is just a fan fiction, but I want to tell a good story. And if I'm to do that, these are the sorts of things I have to wrestle with.
And I need to resolve this quick, because I'm quickly running out of Act One material to publish. Only a couple more chapters to go.
Act One Chapter Eight - In Between Days
It was around one in the morning when Michael returned to Blacksburg from another bout of sparring with Solomon. Although mid-week in December, there was still a fair amount of life in town; the hump day crowd still milling about until last call.
Michael had Solomon drop him off at the front door of the newly finished Squire Student Center. There was a light snow falling, but Michael paid it little heed. He sniffed the air and then headed inside. Although the restaurants and bowling alley were now closed, there were still a few students milling about the public areas. He knew one student would be among them.
Kris was sitting alone, surrounded by books, reading one of them. When Michael walked over, she perked up and set her book aside.
“Evening, mi’lord.”
“Good to see you, Kris. How are things?”
“Studying for finals.” She closed a book abruptly. “Have you come to give me a distraction?” She said seductively.
Michael smiled. Kris was his first and favorite thrall. In just the last few months, she had changed a lot. She still dressed in stereotypical hippie/Bohemian style that she always had, but her attitude had changed considerably. Gone was the self-doubting wall-flower that Michael had first seduced. In her place was the sexually bold and almost hyper confident young woman he saw before him now.
“Perhaps, but first, a question. How are my investments doing?”
“Ah.” She said, somewhat disappointed. “I’m sorry to say there’s been a small problem.”
“Oh?”
“The worm has been compromised. Someone’s gotten in and altered it and now the flow of cash is siphoning to someone else’s account. I have neither been able to pin down the source of the alteration or where the money is now going. Nor have I have been able to restore the original program.”
Once Michael had enthralled Kris, he began using her and several other CS students at Tech to try to hack the local banks’ computers. His efforts paid off when Kris was able to penetrate the system at First Union in Roanoke and plant a virus-like subroutine in their programs. The subroutine was designed to siphon off all the fractions of a penny that occurred when the computers calculated interest on every account in the system. One quarter, two-thirds, or half of a penny was not much by itself, but when it came in multiples of several hundred each week, it added up and provided a nice, if not substantial, form of income for Michael.
“So the hacker got hacked herself.”
“I’m sorry, mi’lord. This should never have happened. But this hacker, whoever he or she is, is better than I am.”
“No need to apologize. There’s always a bigger fish. Question is, who? He’d make a nice addition to our team.”
Kris looked at Michael nervously, as if he’d just threatened to put her aside. “Oh, come now,” he reassured her. “For one thing, he could teach you a thing or two. And two, do you honestly think I get rid of you after all we’ve been through.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be jealous.” She admitted.
“So what can I do to convince you?” Michael knelt down before her as a penitent before the altar.
“You could eat my pussy.” She teased.
Michael grabbed the hem of her skirt and gave it a somewhat dramatic snap, exposing her legs to mid-thigh.
“Here?” she said incredulously.
“Why not?” said Michael, diving in.
----
The last few bars of Cheap Trick’s Surrender finished playing. Michael made his way around his keyboard to the front of the stage, to the center mic where Deborah had just finished singing.
“Good evening, Blacksburg!” said Michael cheerfully to the crowd. “We are Krushed Prophet, that’s ‘Krushed’ with a ‘K.’ We are a cover band, and by the way, we spell cover with a ‘k’ too. We’re a cover band which means we play other people’s songs and we play a little bit of everything from classic rock to goth to grunge to the Billboard chart toppers. The only thing we don’t play is country, because it sucks, and rap, because I am far too white to do it well.”
The last comment elicited a few chuckles from the crowd. A few months of practice and Michael’s latent talents with music had blossomed, enough that Deborah had put together a band with a few of her thralls and had booked a few gigs. Tonight, it was South Main Café in Blacksburg, opening for a band from Charlottesville.
Michael’s role, his shtick as it were, was to introduce the band, the songs, and tell a few not-so-funny self-deprecating jokes along the way. While their comedy lacked, Krushed Prophet made up for in the proficiency of their music. Deborah had found solid musicians to fill in the band and, as she had stated, her voice was solid. Michael did some singing and his keyboarding, while proficient, was probably the band’s one weak link. But he was learning fast.
“I’m Michael, singer and keyboardist.” He said to the crowd. “To my right hand here is other singer and guitarist, the lovely Deborah. By the way, guys, she’s available.” That garnered a few hoots from the crowd. “Next to her is our bassist, Bob!!!!”
“Please don’t call me Bob.” Shot Bob back with a faux British accent. Bob was a man in his mid-50s, older by far that the rest of the band. He was dressed in black slacks and a poofy shirt. From his appearance, any fan would note that Bob was trying to imitate Robert Smith of the Cure, hence the “Bob” joke and the fake accent.
“Just ignore him. Bob’s so old he knew dirt when it was mud. That makes him cranky. On drums is the every blazing Blaze.” A young man with a pink Mohawk stood up and swung his drum sticks around to whip up the crowd.
“I think that’s our cue. One…Two…Three…Four!”
The set continued with, as promised, a wide variety of different songs from different bands: Journey, Ministry, The Cure, Motley Crue, and so forth. Sometimes, Michael would sing, other times Deborah took the mike. But after about an hour, they left the stage to allow the main attraction to set up and play their set.
Michael walked over and sat down next to Kris. Mitch and Boar were there also. “So, you think they’re fired up enough?”
“Dave Matthews will find you a tough act to follow.” Said Mitch.
“Nah,” said Michael, “all we’re doing is copying what better songwriters and performers have done before. He, at least, plays his own stuff.”
“Be interesting to see how he does.” Added Kris. “I’ve heard he scored a record deal.”
“He’ll go far.” Admitted Michael.
“So might you guys.” Interjected a stranger at the bar, sitting a few seats down from Kris. He was older, maybe early to mid 30s.
Michael shook his head in disbelief. “Nah, we’re just a cover band. Never be much more than that.”
“Well, count me as one who can appreciate that the old music hasn’t died out completely yet. I graduated high school in ’78 and most of what you played tonight was what we called college radio back then.” He offered his hand to Michael. “Nolan Baranski.”
“You seem a little out of place here, Dr. Baranski.” Said Mitch. There was a familiarity in his tone that implied they knew one another.
“I’m not that old, James.” Retorted Nolan. “It’s good to see you again. You hang out with this crowd now?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, I guess you’re finding your way in the world.” There was a disappointed tone to his voice. “You were a far better student than you gave yourself credit. I hope to see you in my class again someday. But, I have played the night away for too long tonight. I have papers to grade and….”
Baranski did not finish his line because a new figure walked into the bar. Michael felt a cold chill wash over him.
“Makes an entrance, doesn’t he?” said Nolan. He put on his coat and headed for the door, passing the Djinn as he did so.
“Yeah.” Said Michael, locking eyes with The Djinn as he passed by, heading directly to Deborah’s table.
“Who is that?” muttered Kris, visibly disturbed. Michael did not answer her.
The Djinn sat down at Deborah’s table, causing her “admirers” to excuse themselves. “You chased off my dinner.” Complained Deborah. She seemed unfazed by the presence of Prince Mathias’ bodyguard.
“My apologies.” Came the reply. The Djinn’s voice was a basement deep bass that reminded one of James Earl Jones, Geoffrey Holder, and Tony Todd all rolled into one. “But this is a matter of some importance.”
“What does your boss want?”
“Your childe. The Prince wishes to converse with him about…spiritual matters.”
“His usual.” Said Deborah flippantly. “Seeking another convert for the cause.”
“Our Lord did call for us to make disciples. What is true for his mortal followers is true for us as well.”
“Tell me something, Youssef. Why do follow him? Prince Mathias, that is. I find it hard to believe a 12th century Moorish warrior would find much common cause with a creature that claims to be a barely remembered disciple of Jesus.”
“It is complicated.” Evaded the Djinn.
“It must be, given what a hypocritical pervert he is.” Retorted Deborah. “And yet for all this strange loyalty you show him, how are you repaid? You could be a Prince in any city in this nation, and you play content to be here in this backwater, a mere servant.”
“Not all of us aspire to power.” Replied the Djinn, “you may find the acquisition of it is dangerous and possession of it a curse.”
“How poetic. Say what you wish to me, but that does not change the fact that Sophia, Andreas, and I were given the privilege to progeny over you.” She paused. “After all these decades of service, that’s got to sting.”
Clearly it did. The Djinn stood up abruptly. “Your childe will be summoned tomorrow night.” He said coldly. “Make sure he is ready.” With that, he exited.
The Djinn passed out onto the street, and headed for his car. Baranski watched from a nearby alcove, stepping out once The Djinn had departed. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag from it.
“Dr. Baranski?” came a voice.
“Ah, Darren. What brings you out this evening?” Nolan turned to greet the young man who approached.
“Come to see Dave Matthews. You?”
“Just checking up on our young charge. We should have been more diligent. He’s chosen very poor friends.”
“Not an uncommon fate for college dropouts.”
“Not like this.” Said Nolan. “Enjoy the show, but keep your wits about you. South Main Café is crawling with them tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nolan tossed his cigarette away.
“Yes, sir.”
Baranski stepped away from the building, paused to make sure no one else was watching, and then vanished into thin air.
----
“I wouldn’t have thought your kind could eat like that.” Offered Mitch as he watched Michael wolf down a plate of spaghetti.
“All part of being able to fit in.” replied Michael after he swallowed. “Leaves them no reason to suspect I’m anything other than an ordinary human being.”
“We’ve been around Deborah for nearly a year and there’s still a lot we don’t know.” Said Boar.
“And that’s probably for the better.” Said Michael. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about this sort of thing openly.”
Boar shrugged. “No one can hear us in a noisy restaurant.”
It was that. The three of them were together at the Roanoke Olive Garden restaurant. This had become something of a bi-weekly ritual of theirs. Visit Roanoke, eat out at a semi-fancy restaurant (something at least better than Taco Bell or the dining halls on campus), and do some shopping. Usually, they didn’t buy much, maybe a role-playing book or a video. The real purpose of the trip was to have something to do outside Blacksburg.
“So whereto from here tonight?” asked Boar.
“To the mall.” Said Michael. “I should find something for Deb for Christmas.”
Boar found that funny and he laughed. “Kindred giving Christmas gifts to kindred. I hate to see what your Santa Claus would look like.”
“Come on, both you guys got her something too. I know it.”
The two of them grudgingly conceded that they had. “If I were you, I’d be more interested in getting something nice for Kris instead of Deborah.” Interjected Mitch.
“I suppose I could, but why do you say that?”
“She’s awfully devoted to you, regardless of what you truly are.”
“Yeah, but…” Michael was about to mention the artificial bond he’d imposed on Kris, but then thought better of it. After all, did Mitch and Boar know they had a similar one imposed on them or was that one of those things they didn’t know about Deborah?
“But what?” prompted Mitch.
“It’s complicated.”
“You’re a vampire. I’d expect it would be.” Replied Boar. “Does she know? What you are, that is.”
“Kris? No, I’ve not told her. Not yet.”
“I’ll bet that’s not a fun conversation.” Added Mitch.
“How did Deb break it to you two?”
“She just kinda told us.” Said Mitch.
“It didn’t seem that big of a deal.” Boar admitted. “Now that I think about it, that’s a bit odd in of itself. I mean, you spend your whole life being told that monsters aren’t real and then when you find out they are, it doesn’t come as a shock.” He seemed a bit confused.
“Well, the world can be a pretty nasty place.” Said Michael. “Maybe all these old folktales about vampires, wizards, werewolves, and other monsters were told because they made the world and all of its evils and nastiness make sense. Science may have done us a disservice by convincing us all that the ugliness of the world is merely meaningless bad luck.” Michael paused to see if his friends were following his point. “So, when we’re told that the old folktales are what’s true and the science we’ve been raised on is inaccurate or incomplete, everything we’ve witnessed about the brutality of life makes sense again. It all falls into place.”
“Never thought of it like that.” Admitted Boar. “But you’re right. But I’m not sure which is worse: Knowing that your life could be brutally cut short by mere rotten luck or that it could be cut short because something nameless in the dark is going to eat you.”
“You know, I’m getting pretty fucking depressed talking about this.” Interjected Mitch. “I’d much rather go on thinking I’m immortal, and that life is more than just a timer running down to zero.”
“Well, you can think it all you want. Doesn’t make it true.”
Mitch frowned. “I think I liked you better before you died.”
“Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home.” Said Michael, identifying the quote. “Some things haven’t changed. I may be kindred now, but I still love gaming, can quote geek with the best of them, and know my way around a computer system. I’m still me, just more so.”
“Bearing that in mind,” said Mitch. “Why’d she turn you and not us? I know she’s got some sort of plan against some kind of enemy, but wouldn’t three vampires be of more use than just one?”
“There’s a law.” Explained Michael. “A vampire can only make another when they’re given permission by the ruler of the territory. From what Deb’s told me, that permission doesn’t come very often.” He said nothing of Boar’s odd blood.
“Another killjoy.” Said Boar. “You’re just not going to be any fun tonight, are you?”
“Sorry. Even as a vampire, I’m beholden to others and to the laws that govern my kind.”
“And if you break those laws?”
“You answer to me.” Said a voice. It seemed to come out of nowhere. The chair next to Michael slid back and The Djinn appeared out of thin air within it.
“Sweet Jesus!” Mitch nearly jumped out of the seat. “Don’t do that.”
Michael noticed none of the other patrons in the restaurant reacted at all to The Djinn’s sudden appearing act. “How did you…”
“It’s not hard to appear and disappear when no one is watching. In fact, I hardly needed to use my powers, so engrossed were the three of you in your conversation. A dangerous conversation, I might add.” His tone was cold and direct. “In such a public place.”
“As you said yourself, no one’s watching. They aren’t listening either.” Said Michael.
“Reckless of you, childe. And it is my judgment of the risks you pose that truly matters.”
“You’ll not take my head, for the very same reason you’d rather we converse about other things.” Said Michael boldly. "We're rather public here."
“True,” replied The Djinn. He grabbed Michael’s chin and turned his head to face him. “but you’re not always so out in the open and you’ve already learned how comfortable I am in the shadows.”
“Do you have a purpose in coming here or do you just enjoy spooking my friends and me?”
“Mathias wants to see you. You will come with me.”
Michael turned back to Mitch and Boar. “I think you’ll have to go on without me for the rest of the night. As I said, I’m beholden to others.”
Act One Chapter Nine
Michael had Solomon drop him off at the front door of the newly finished Squire Student Center. There was a light snow falling, but Michael paid it little heed. He sniffed the air and then headed inside. Although the restaurants and bowling alley were now closed, there were still a few students milling about the public areas. He knew one student would be among them.
Kris was sitting alone, surrounded by books, reading one of them. When Michael walked over, she perked up and set her book aside.
“Evening, mi’lord.”
“Good to see you, Kris. How are things?”
“Studying for finals.” She closed a book abruptly. “Have you come to give me a distraction?” She said seductively.
Michael smiled. Kris was his first and favorite thrall. In just the last few months, she had changed a lot. She still dressed in stereotypical hippie/Bohemian style that she always had, but her attitude had changed considerably. Gone was the self-doubting wall-flower that Michael had first seduced. In her place was the sexually bold and almost hyper confident young woman he saw before him now.
“Perhaps, but first, a question. How are my investments doing?”
“Ah.” She said, somewhat disappointed. “I’m sorry to say there’s been a small problem.”
“Oh?”
“The worm has been compromised. Someone’s gotten in and altered it and now the flow of cash is siphoning to someone else’s account. I have neither been able to pin down the source of the alteration or where the money is now going. Nor have I have been able to restore the original program.”
Once Michael had enthralled Kris, he began using her and several other CS students at Tech to try to hack the local banks’ computers. His efforts paid off when Kris was able to penetrate the system at First Union in Roanoke and plant a virus-like subroutine in their programs. The subroutine was designed to siphon off all the fractions of a penny that occurred when the computers calculated interest on every account in the system. One quarter, two-thirds, or half of a penny was not much by itself, but when it came in multiples of several hundred each week, it added up and provided a nice, if not substantial, form of income for Michael.
“So the hacker got hacked herself.”
“I’m sorry, mi’lord. This should never have happened. But this hacker, whoever he or she is, is better than I am.”
“No need to apologize. There’s always a bigger fish. Question is, who? He’d make a nice addition to our team.”
Kris looked at Michael nervously, as if he’d just threatened to put her aside. “Oh, come now,” he reassured her. “For one thing, he could teach you a thing or two. And two, do you honestly think I get rid of you after all we’ve been through.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be jealous.” She admitted.
“So what can I do to convince you?” Michael knelt down before her as a penitent before the altar.
“You could eat my pussy.” She teased.
Michael grabbed the hem of her skirt and gave it a somewhat dramatic snap, exposing her legs to mid-thigh.
“Here?” she said incredulously.
“Why not?” said Michael, diving in.
----
The last few bars of Cheap Trick’s Surrender finished playing. Michael made his way around his keyboard to the front of the stage, to the center mic where Deborah had just finished singing.
“Good evening, Blacksburg!” said Michael cheerfully to the crowd. “We are Krushed Prophet, that’s ‘Krushed’ with a ‘K.’ We are a cover band, and by the way, we spell cover with a ‘k’ too. We’re a cover band which means we play other people’s songs and we play a little bit of everything from classic rock to goth to grunge to the Billboard chart toppers. The only thing we don’t play is country, because it sucks, and rap, because I am far too white to do it well.”
The last comment elicited a few chuckles from the crowd. A few months of practice and Michael’s latent talents with music had blossomed, enough that Deborah had put together a band with a few of her thralls and had booked a few gigs. Tonight, it was South Main Café in Blacksburg, opening for a band from Charlottesville.
Michael’s role, his shtick as it were, was to introduce the band, the songs, and tell a few not-so-funny self-deprecating jokes along the way. While their comedy lacked, Krushed Prophet made up for in the proficiency of their music. Deborah had found solid musicians to fill in the band and, as she had stated, her voice was solid. Michael did some singing and his keyboarding, while proficient, was probably the band’s one weak link. But he was learning fast.
“I’m Michael, singer and keyboardist.” He said to the crowd. “To my right hand here is other singer and guitarist, the lovely Deborah. By the way, guys, she’s available.” That garnered a few hoots from the crowd. “Next to her is our bassist, Bob!!!!”
“Please don’t call me Bob.” Shot Bob back with a faux British accent. Bob was a man in his mid-50s, older by far that the rest of the band. He was dressed in black slacks and a poofy shirt. From his appearance, any fan would note that Bob was trying to imitate Robert Smith of the Cure, hence the “Bob” joke and the fake accent.
“Just ignore him. Bob’s so old he knew dirt when it was mud. That makes him cranky. On drums is the every blazing Blaze.” A young man with a pink Mohawk stood up and swung his drum sticks around to whip up the crowd.
“I think that’s our cue. One…Two…Three…Four!”
The set continued with, as promised, a wide variety of different songs from different bands: Journey, Ministry, The Cure, Motley Crue, and so forth. Sometimes, Michael would sing, other times Deborah took the mike. But after about an hour, they left the stage to allow the main attraction to set up and play their set.
Michael walked over and sat down next to Kris. Mitch and Boar were there also. “So, you think they’re fired up enough?”
“Dave Matthews will find you a tough act to follow.” Said Mitch.
“Nah,” said Michael, “all we’re doing is copying what better songwriters and performers have done before. He, at least, plays his own stuff.”
“Be interesting to see how he does.” Added Kris. “I’ve heard he scored a record deal.”
“He’ll go far.” Admitted Michael.
“So might you guys.” Interjected a stranger at the bar, sitting a few seats down from Kris. He was older, maybe early to mid 30s.
Michael shook his head in disbelief. “Nah, we’re just a cover band. Never be much more than that.”
“Well, count me as one who can appreciate that the old music hasn’t died out completely yet. I graduated high school in ’78 and most of what you played tonight was what we called college radio back then.” He offered his hand to Michael. “Nolan Baranski.”
“You seem a little out of place here, Dr. Baranski.” Said Mitch. There was a familiarity in his tone that implied they knew one another.
“I’m not that old, James.” Retorted Nolan. “It’s good to see you again. You hang out with this crowd now?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, I guess you’re finding your way in the world.” There was a disappointed tone to his voice. “You were a far better student than you gave yourself credit. I hope to see you in my class again someday. But, I have played the night away for too long tonight. I have papers to grade and….”
Baranski did not finish his line because a new figure walked into the bar. Michael felt a cold chill wash over him.
“Makes an entrance, doesn’t he?” said Nolan. He put on his coat and headed for the door, passing the Djinn as he did so.
“Yeah.” Said Michael, locking eyes with The Djinn as he passed by, heading directly to Deborah’s table.
“Who is that?” muttered Kris, visibly disturbed. Michael did not answer her.
The Djinn sat down at Deborah’s table, causing her “admirers” to excuse themselves. “You chased off my dinner.” Complained Deborah. She seemed unfazed by the presence of Prince Mathias’ bodyguard.
“My apologies.” Came the reply. The Djinn’s voice was a basement deep bass that reminded one of James Earl Jones, Geoffrey Holder, and Tony Todd all rolled into one. “But this is a matter of some importance.”
“What does your boss want?”
“Your childe. The Prince wishes to converse with him about…spiritual matters.”
“His usual.” Said Deborah flippantly. “Seeking another convert for the cause.”
“Our Lord did call for us to make disciples. What is true for his mortal followers is true for us as well.”
“Tell me something, Youssef. Why do follow him? Prince Mathias, that is. I find it hard to believe a 12th century Moorish warrior would find much common cause with a creature that claims to be a barely remembered disciple of Jesus.”
“It is complicated.” Evaded the Djinn.
“It must be, given what a hypocritical pervert he is.” Retorted Deborah. “And yet for all this strange loyalty you show him, how are you repaid? You could be a Prince in any city in this nation, and you play content to be here in this backwater, a mere servant.”
“Not all of us aspire to power.” Replied the Djinn, “you may find the acquisition of it is dangerous and possession of it a curse.”
“How poetic. Say what you wish to me, but that does not change the fact that Sophia, Andreas, and I were given the privilege to progeny over you.” She paused. “After all these decades of service, that’s got to sting.”
Clearly it did. The Djinn stood up abruptly. “Your childe will be summoned tomorrow night.” He said coldly. “Make sure he is ready.” With that, he exited.
The Djinn passed out onto the street, and headed for his car. Baranski watched from a nearby alcove, stepping out once The Djinn had departed. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag from it.
“Dr. Baranski?” came a voice.
“Ah, Darren. What brings you out this evening?” Nolan turned to greet the young man who approached.
“Come to see Dave Matthews. You?”
“Just checking up on our young charge. We should have been more diligent. He’s chosen very poor friends.”
“Not an uncommon fate for college dropouts.”
“Not like this.” Said Nolan. “Enjoy the show, but keep your wits about you. South Main Café is crawling with them tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nolan tossed his cigarette away.
“Yes, sir.”
Baranski stepped away from the building, paused to make sure no one else was watching, and then vanished into thin air.
----
“I wouldn’t have thought your kind could eat like that.” Offered Mitch as he watched Michael wolf down a plate of spaghetti.
“All part of being able to fit in.” replied Michael after he swallowed. “Leaves them no reason to suspect I’m anything other than an ordinary human being.”
“We’ve been around Deborah for nearly a year and there’s still a lot we don’t know.” Said Boar.
“And that’s probably for the better.” Said Michael. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about this sort of thing openly.”
Boar shrugged. “No one can hear us in a noisy restaurant.”
It was that. The three of them were together at the Roanoke Olive Garden restaurant. This had become something of a bi-weekly ritual of theirs. Visit Roanoke, eat out at a semi-fancy restaurant (something at least better than Taco Bell or the dining halls on campus), and do some shopping. Usually, they didn’t buy much, maybe a role-playing book or a video. The real purpose of the trip was to have something to do outside Blacksburg.
“So whereto from here tonight?” asked Boar.
“To the mall.” Said Michael. “I should find something for Deb for Christmas.”
Boar found that funny and he laughed. “Kindred giving Christmas gifts to kindred. I hate to see what your Santa Claus would look like.”
“Come on, both you guys got her something too. I know it.”
The two of them grudgingly conceded that they had. “If I were you, I’d be more interested in getting something nice for Kris instead of Deborah.” Interjected Mitch.
“I suppose I could, but why do you say that?”
“She’s awfully devoted to you, regardless of what you truly are.”
“Yeah, but…” Michael was about to mention the artificial bond he’d imposed on Kris, but then thought better of it. After all, did Mitch and Boar know they had a similar one imposed on them or was that one of those things they didn’t know about Deborah?
“But what?” prompted Mitch.
“It’s complicated.”
“You’re a vampire. I’d expect it would be.” Replied Boar. “Does she know? What you are, that is.”
“Kris? No, I’ve not told her. Not yet.”
“I’ll bet that’s not a fun conversation.” Added Mitch.
“How did Deb break it to you two?”
“She just kinda told us.” Said Mitch.
“It didn’t seem that big of a deal.” Boar admitted. “Now that I think about it, that’s a bit odd in of itself. I mean, you spend your whole life being told that monsters aren’t real and then when you find out they are, it doesn’t come as a shock.” He seemed a bit confused.
“Well, the world can be a pretty nasty place.” Said Michael. “Maybe all these old folktales about vampires, wizards, werewolves, and other monsters were told because they made the world and all of its evils and nastiness make sense. Science may have done us a disservice by convincing us all that the ugliness of the world is merely meaningless bad luck.” Michael paused to see if his friends were following his point. “So, when we’re told that the old folktales are what’s true and the science we’ve been raised on is inaccurate or incomplete, everything we’ve witnessed about the brutality of life makes sense again. It all falls into place.”
“Never thought of it like that.” Admitted Boar. “But you’re right. But I’m not sure which is worse: Knowing that your life could be brutally cut short by mere rotten luck or that it could be cut short because something nameless in the dark is going to eat you.”
“You know, I’m getting pretty fucking depressed talking about this.” Interjected Mitch. “I’d much rather go on thinking I’m immortal, and that life is more than just a timer running down to zero.”
“Well, you can think it all you want. Doesn’t make it true.”
Mitch frowned. “I think I liked you better before you died.”
“Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home.” Said Michael, identifying the quote. “Some things haven’t changed. I may be kindred now, but I still love gaming, can quote geek with the best of them, and know my way around a computer system. I’m still me, just more so.”
“Bearing that in mind,” said Mitch. “Why’d she turn you and not us? I know she’s got some sort of plan against some kind of enemy, but wouldn’t three vampires be of more use than just one?”
“There’s a law.” Explained Michael. “A vampire can only make another when they’re given permission by the ruler of the territory. From what Deb’s told me, that permission doesn’t come very often.” He said nothing of Boar’s odd blood.
“Another killjoy.” Said Boar. “You’re just not going to be any fun tonight, are you?”
“Sorry. Even as a vampire, I’m beholden to others and to the laws that govern my kind.”
“And if you break those laws?”
“You answer to me.” Said a voice. It seemed to come out of nowhere. The chair next to Michael slid back and The Djinn appeared out of thin air within it.
“Sweet Jesus!” Mitch nearly jumped out of the seat. “Don’t do that.”
Michael noticed none of the other patrons in the restaurant reacted at all to The Djinn’s sudden appearing act. “How did you…”
“It’s not hard to appear and disappear when no one is watching. In fact, I hardly needed to use my powers, so engrossed were the three of you in your conversation. A dangerous conversation, I might add.” His tone was cold and direct. “In such a public place.”
“As you said yourself, no one’s watching. They aren’t listening either.” Said Michael.
“Reckless of you, childe. And it is my judgment of the risks you pose that truly matters.”
“You’ll not take my head, for the very same reason you’d rather we converse about other things.” Said Michael boldly. "We're rather public here."
“True,” replied The Djinn. He grabbed Michael’s chin and turned his head to face him. “but you’re not always so out in the open and you’ve already learned how comfortable I am in the shadows.”
“Do you have a purpose in coming here or do you just enjoy spooking my friends and me?”
“Mathias wants to see you. You will come with me.”
Michael turned back to Mitch and Boar. “I think you’ll have to go on without me for the rest of the night. As I said, I’m beholden to others.”
Act One Chapter Nine
iDrakula
Found this app today while surfing around iTunes.
Takes the diary-entry format of Bram Stroker's novel and updates for our modern electronic age, telling the story of Dracula via text message, e-mail, and other modern communication tools. I've only bought the free version so far, but I really like it. Probably going to put a little money down on it to get the whole thing.
Takes the diary-entry format of Bram Stroker's novel and updates for our modern electronic age, telling the story of Dracula via text message, e-mail, and other modern communication tools. I've only bought the free version so far, but I really like it. Probably going to put a little money down on it to get the whole thing.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Act One Chapter Seven - Dead Man's Party
It was the night of the Virginia Tech game against Akron and all of Blacksburg was abuzz. The football season had not been going well for Tech, but that was nothing new. Still, there was hope and expectation that this game would be different; This game would be a victory.
Deborah, who had shown almost no interest in college life outside of using the town’s nightlife as a hunting ground, had gotten tickets to the game. Michael found this surprising.
“You’ve never shown any interest in sports before.” He commented.
“This time is different. The Prince has come. Every year, he watches a nighttime home game and then holds court. You are to be introduced to him tonight.”
“So this really isn’t about the game.”
“Enjoy the game. The Prince will. And then he will be very interested to meet you. As will the other kindred of the city.”
“So how many of us are there? You, me, Solomon, Andreas who I’ve never met and his childe.”
“In the Roanoke domain there are 5 more than what you’ve listed, including another newly turned like yourself and Andreas’ pet. There are also three elders of great age, including the Prince himself.”
“So ten of us total. And one of these is the enemy I am to help kill?”
Deborah gave no answer.
“You’re going to tell me again what Solomon did. That a fledgling childe like myself cannot keep your secrets.”
“You can’t. And tonight you’ll learn why.”
Michael twisted his mouth in mild frustration. He didn’t like being treated like a baby by Deborah. He may not be a full fledged vampire yet, but he was no simpleton either. But he also knew there was little to be gained by pressing the matter, so he changed the subject.
“I’m hungry.”
“I believe we have a feast before us. Just be discrete. There are a lot of people here.”
Michael gave her a half-mocking salute and headed off into the crowd.
Seduction would not serve in this environment. So Michael would have to find a more direct method. Since the game had begun, most of the crowd was now gathered in the stands, leaving only a few dozen people milling about below near the rest rooms and concessions.
He scanned about and spotted a solitary girl standing next to a large support column, smoking a cigarette, apparently waiting for some friends. With a smile, he walked over to her.
“Hi.” He said. He started digging in his pockets, as if to fetch a cigarette himself. “Got a light?”
“Sure.” She said, looking down to her purse to begin rummaging through it. With that, he struck.
He drank deeply but cautiously, making certain not to kill his prey. As she passed out, Michael came back up. The wound closed and he gently guided her down to the floor. The sound of a group approaching reached his ears. Time to be elsewhere.
With lightning speed, he made his way to a nearby utility closet and darted inside to hide. The group of students spotted the passed out girl and dashed over to help. He could hear their voices through the door and as he listened, he heard something he couldn’t believe: a voice he recognized. A very familiar voice.
He cracked open the door to look out and his suspicions and fears were confirmed. It was Rebecca.
But not as he remembered her. It had been only about two months since he’d last seen her at that homecoming dance and he hardly recognized her. Her red hair had been dyed over with black highlights. Her clothing style had radically changed. Gone were the simple t-shirts and jeans he remembered she always wore. Instead, she was in a black leather jacket with a tank top beneath and a pair of tight black jeans. As she doffed the jacket to give the unconscious girl some warmth, he could see a tattoo of a butterfly on her upper arm. In style, she’d gone very Goth.
“What has happened to you, Becca?” Michael wondered in his thoughts. His eyes surveyed over the rest of those around her. Most of them appeared to be Virginia Tech students he didn’t recognize, but two more familiar faces were within the crowd: Shawn and his brother.
Michael sniffed the air, and the cacophony of smells entered his mind, but three were familiar, as if he knew them. Odd, he thought. He’d not encountered these three as a vampire before, and yet he knew their scent nonetheless. Michael smiled to himself as a dark thought entered his mind.
“Perhaps I’ll cash in my part of our deal early, Deborah.” He said to himself.
----
As the game continued, Michael hovered just out of sight near the trio of his former classmates. He wasn’t sure what he’d do exactly to Rebecca if he caught her alone, but Shawn and Todd were in for a world of hurt.
He was admittedly curious as to why they were here to begin with. Todd was not college material at all and had never shown any brand loyalty to a football team outside of West Virginia University or the Steelers. Rebecca had only been talking about WVU or Marshall, West Virginia’s two major universities, for her college and as for Shawn, Michael simply didn’t know. And if they had come to find out more about his disappearance, why take the time and effort to come to a game?
Speculation gave him no answers, not even decent guesses, but his thoughts were cut short when Todd broke off from the group and headed below. Something about his demeanor told Michael it was a rest room dash, so Michael followed at a distance.
Sure enough, Todd went for the rest rooms. Michael’s mind raced with strategies. There were simply too many people about to physically assault him here. Deborah would be furious at such a blatant use of his power, and with the Prince supposedly present as well, that was too great a risk. He would have to lure him away.
Michael came up with a plan. He waited outside the rest room door until he heard Todd finish and begin to exit. At that, Michael began to enter, running right into him.
“Excuse me.” He said hurriedly and continued inside. Was the sight of him and the voice enough to grab Todd’s curiosity? Michael hoped so.
Michael went through the motions of using the urinal and then washing his hands. He exited and headed towards the rear exit of the stadium. He was immediately aware of someone following behind him. Curiosity would kill more than just the cat tonight.
He exited the stadium grounds, surrounded by a small handful of others who had, for whatever reason, decided to leave the game early. Michael cut a left turn and headed across the backside of the stadium towards a copse of woods that separated the stadium complex from the Green Street neighborhood of Blacksburg proper. The woods were thin but there were few enough around that he could make his move in some seclusion.
About mid-way through the woods, he stopped. “You know, Todd,” he called back. “It’s not very polite to stalk someone.”
“It is you. They said you were dead. Drowned in the river.”
Michael turned. “Only what they were meant to think.”
“Why?” said Todd. It was the last thing Michael expected to emerge from his mouth.
“Why would you care?” said Michael in reply, walking slowly back towards Todd. “Wasn’t I just another nerd for you to beat up?”
“Do you know what your disappearance did to her?”
“Again, why would you care?”
“She’s my brother’s girlfriend. And no one fucks with my brother.”
“Family loyalty. How odd. You two put on such a show of hating each other in public, and now I see sympathy for him and his plight in your eyes. How pathetic.”
“You don’t give a rat’s ass about anybody but yourself, do you, Allens?” said Todd, building himself up and trying to be intimidating. “If I'd known half of what I’ve just learned about you in the last minute or two, I’d have done more than just bully you. If I’d known what you really are, you’d be dead.”
“What stops you now? After all, most everyone thinks I really am.”
Todd smiled evilly, showing that the thought had not occurred to him until now. “Good point.” He said, cracking his knuckles.
“Take your best shot.” Said Michael in a cocky tone. Todd responded with a right hook that landed solid on Michael’s jaw.
Once, that blow would have sent him flying and probably put him out with a single shot. But Michael’s head merely snapped to one side. He turned back to Todd, barely even a mark on his pale skin.
“Best you can do?”
Another right, then a left, and then a body blow. Todd hammered Michael with everything he had, frustrated and enraged by Michael’s seemingly inability to feel any of it.
A powerful uppercut finally had enough force to knock Michael off his feet and onto his back. He lay there and laughed.
“My God,” he said, getting back up. “what a pummeling that would have been back in the day. I’d be sore for weeks, if not hospitalized.”
“How the fuck can you stand up and laugh?” said Todd.
“You really want to know?” said Michael with a smile. And then he was gone.
No, he was behind Todd. Todd turned to face him, but only got halfway before a sledgehammer like blow landed on his jaw. There was the crunch of bone and Todd went flying.
“Funny thing about everyone thinking you’re dead.” Said Michael, all mirth now gone from his voice. “No one will look for you as a murder suspect.” His voice was cold and cruel.
Todd staggered to his feet, blood pouring from his mouth. There was abject terror in his eyes. “Afraid, Todd?” taunted Michael. “Now you know how it feels.”
Todd began to run, but Michael easily moved to intercept, slamming a hard blow into Todd’s chest. There was the sound of cracking ribs and Todd went sprawling again.
Michael rolled him over onto his back. He landed a hard punch to his other side, again snapping bone with each strike. “That was for the bullying.” He stomped down on his shin, again the crunch of bone. “That was for the humiliation. And for your threat a few minutes ago?” He stomped down just below Todd’s ribcage. There was no crunch this time, but Michael knew full well what that blow had done.
“By now, you are likely hemorrhaging blood from about a half dozen internal organs.” Michael knelt down next to him. “With your rib cage shattered, your lungs will soon collapse. The question is, will you die from suffocation or from bleeding? Something to think about as you lay there. I’d tell you to think twice next time about bullying nerds, but then, for you, there won’t be a next time.”
With that, Michael walked away and left Todd to his fate.
----
Michael jumped the fence when the guards weren’t looking and then sought out to find Deborah. The game was now almost over and people were beginning to leave in large numbers. Even amidst the massive football-game crowd, she was not hard to find.
“You took long enough.” Said Deborah as he fell into line at her side.
“Oh, I decided to watch the game from a different set of seats.”
“Did you rob some poor girl of her tickets?”
“Hardly.” Said Michael with faux defensiveness. “I just thought your seats sucked.”
“Even Kindred have their limitations.”
“Unless you’re the Prince.” Supposed Michael. “So when do we meet him?”
“After the team has moved to the locker room, the Prince will use the same passageways to make his way to one of the classrooms beneath the stadium. We will meet him there.”
“So what are we waiting for?”
“A thinner crowd. Be patient, my childe. I can assure you that meeting Mathias is not something you want to look forward to.”
They mingled about the lower area of the stadium for another hour or so as the post-game crowd finally thinned out enough for them to go below without drawing too much attention. They headed down a set of stairs and exited out into a white hallway.
“Well, what have we here?” said a tall thin man as he came down the hall towards them. A retinue of people, most dressed like hippies and Bohemians, followed after. “Am I the first to meet our newest member?”
He stepped forward, arms stretched forward, and he took Michael’s face in his hands. “A fine specimen.” He focused on Michael’s eyes, looking deep within. “Although a mite impulsive. Seems he’s already had something of an adventure tonight.”
At that, one of the kindred’s followers broke from the crowd and headed rapidly up the stairs behind Deborah and Michael. The Kindred gave it no heed, releasing Michael and stepping back. “I am being rude. I am Ernest Malkov Peabody the Fourth, Esquire. Most around here call me Ernie.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Said Michael nervously. Something about the kindred’s gaze was disconcerting.
“What have you done now?” demanded Deborah of Michael, grabbing him by the arm and turning him towards her.
“What makes you think I’ve done anything?” said Michael defensively. It was a weak lie and he knew it.
“Ah, a doubter.” Interjected Ernie. “Seems he has no faith in our royal powers. Tell me, Michael, at what age did you stop that retched habit of picking your nose?”
Michael’s anger flashed and he turned quickly to face Ernie.
“Still touchy about it, I see. Is that why Todd bullied you so mercilessly? No, I suppose not. He came later, but there were others. Funny how an ancient memory of years past can still inflame you. Tell me, Deborah,” Ernie turned to her, “with his temper, are you sure he’s not a Gangrel?”
“Quite sure.” Said a voice from behind them.
“Ah, Solomon, so good you could join us tonight as well. Have you met our young Michael?”
“I have. I’m not impressed. He has much to learn.” Solomon joined the growing crowd.
“I’ve been a vampire less than 3 months and you expect me to know everything?” retorted Michael, annoyed at their critique and disdain.
“Ignorance is not a shield the Prince will long accept, young one,” said Ernie, “particularly if you keep leaving messes for him to clean up. You keep this one on too long a leash, Deborah. The Prince will not be pleased. And speaking of that, he awaits us within.”
“Is he settled?”
“Feasting on a cheerleader last I saw. I’m sure he’s done by now. Come.” Barked Ernie. “It’s time for another lesson, young one. One you’ll not soon forget.”
Ernie marched them down the hallway towards a classroom. Michael noted that the Bohemian retinue did not follow, but Solomon did. For the first time since his change, Michael felt the chill of fear. They seemed to know all about his attack on Todd and were none too pleased about it.
They stepped inside the classroom to witness a scene of terror. At the front of the room, where the professor would normally stand lecturing, was a grotesque creature, human in shape, but that is where the similarities ended. The beast’s skin was pale and partially translucent, allowing Michael an almost unhindered view of the blood vessels beneath. It was bald and dressed in a monk’s robe. Before it, stood one of Virginia Tech’s cheerleaders. She stood motionless, as if in a trance, before the monstrous creature.
“Is that…the Prince?” asked Michael as he followed Deborah along the wall to the top of the room.
“Yes. That is Prince Mathias. He is of the Nosferatu Clan, which is why his appearance is so grotesque.”
“What is he doing?”
“Erasing memories. He is a master at reading and manipulating the minds of his victims. A helpful gift to have when your very appearance would frighten away your prey.”
“He can read minds?” said Michael with a shudder. “And so can Ernie?”
“Yes. And so can others. And now you know why Solomon and I have been so secretive with you about our plans. With only a touch, Ernie could pluck an unpleasant memory from your childhood to tease you.” Deborah gave Michael a sharp look. “And he is fully aware of what you were doing during the game.”
“It was a calculated gamble.” Said Michael. “A mortal who knew me, who saw me. One that could reveal that I’m alive to others.”
“So you killed him?”
“Yes.”
“You better have.”
Prince Mathias turned away from the cheerleader as two thralls came forward to escort her away. He dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief. “She will remember nothing.” He said in a quiet voice. “I see Lord Ernie, and our ever vigilant warrior Solomon in our midst. Also, lovely Deborah and is this your new pet?”
“I am Michael Allens…your highness.”
“How quaint. Come down, boy. Let me see you more clearly.” Mathias gestured for Michael to come forward. Michael came down to the front, walking on legs that seemed to move on their own.
“He is weak, Deborah.” Criticized Mathias. Despite the critique, there was something of affection in Mathias' voice.
“As are we all when mere babes.” She replied.
“You were made to help our dear Deborah deal with an enemy. I wonder who?” said the Prince as he looked Michael over. “No one too powerful I would imagine.”
“I don’t know who it is.”
“There is little need for you to repeat what I already know, childe.” Chided the Prince gently. “It has been a long time since we have had one so young in our midst. And yet we have three. Two more will come soon with their sires. But for now, let us learn something of one another. Walk with me, Michael.” The Prince strove toward the door and Michael followed.
They came out into the hall and headed from there to outside. “Deborah is a lovely thing, is she not?” His tone had a grandfatherly aspect to it, friendly and inviting, despite his vile appearance.
“If you can read my mind, then you already know what I think of her.”
“You learn fast. That is something she has already commended about you.” Mathias smiled, although it seemed a sickly thing. “You are a lovely thing as well. I can see why she chose you.” His tone shifted and darkened. “It would be a shame if your impulsive adventurism came back to harm either of you.” He stopped and turned to face Michael. “Has she told you what I am? What I do?”
“You are the Prince. You enforce the laws.”
“Indeed, I do. And do you know what those laws are?”
"Hide our existence from the mortal world. Don't make any other vampires without your permission. And something to do with not drinking another kindred to death."
"Your knowledge is incomplete, but adequate. You will learn in time. For now, you are a fledgling, a babe in the woods. You are your sire's charge. Her sins are yours to bear and yours are hers."
"So I screw up and she gets punished."
"You both do, yes." Coming forth behind Mathias, as if made of the very substance of shadow itself, was a dark-skinned man, armed with a scimitar, and dressed as a soldier. Michael nearly jumped out of his skin.
The Prince continued. “And this is my primary tool of enforcement. This is Youssef Zahid Anwar, my bodyguard and personal enforcer. To others, he is known as The Djinn, after the demons of Arabic legend. Let me assure you of something, young Michael. Whatever skills you think you have, the Djinn has a thousand years of practice on you. So if you decide to break the laws of my domain, you will answer to him or to me. Either way, I think you know who the loser of such a confrontation will be.”
“I understand you perfectly.” Said Michael timidly.
“Good. “ Quick as lightning, his voice returned to its old friendly grandfatherly tone. “Then let us rejoin the others. You are one of our guests of honor tonight and the others are so eager to meet you.”
----
“So, did The Djinn make you piss yourself?” asked Solomon after Michael returned.
“He would have if I had any piss in me.” Replied Michael honestly.
“Elders are scary enough. And that one is a Moorish warrior from the 12th century to boot.”
“You’re telling me he’s 800 years old?”
“Mathias is even older, if the stories he tells about himself are to be believed.”
“And those are?”
“Deborah mentioned you were a bit on the religious side before becoming one of us. How well do you know your Bible?”
“Better than some. Not as well as others.”
“You remember the name of the 13th apostle? From the book of Acts?”
“Math…no way.”
“So he claims. But don’t let that fool you. If he was a disciple, either he has fallen far or Jesus was nothing like what anyone believes him to be.”
“You don’t believe his story.”
“I know that he has told it and I know that he very well could be that old. And then there’s his eyes.”
“His eyes?”
“You didn’t notice? Look at them more closely.”
Michael watched as Mathias took one of the other new kindred away, no doubt to give him the Djinn-treatment as well. He looked closely as the Prince glanced back upon the room before leaving.
“Something isn’t right about them.” Michael admitted.
“I forget how young and pathetic you are.” Snarled Solomon. “His pupils are crosses, not circles. In his eyes, he bears the mark of the Messiah he claims to follow.”
“Claims? Not claimed?”
“Deborah has not told you much about the covenants. Yes, claims. Prince Mathias claims to still be a devoted follower, but what he follows looks nothing like the church that I see in the mortal world nor remember from my own days in that world.”
“So, seeing as I’m so young and pathetic, why don’t you teach me a thing or two.” Said Michael boldly. “I take it cross-shaped pupils are not normal.”
“Not hardly. Although, when one of our kind gets that old, it’s hard to say what passes for normal.”
“And the Djinn’s little shadow trick?”
“Again, something you won’t see many of our kind doing. As we age, we grow in strength. But there is a price and a trade-off for that strength. Eventually, we can no longer sustain our life by feeding on the blood of the living. Only the blood of the living dead will do.”
“Other Kindred?”
“Yes. Most find that untenable, so they go to sleep for decades, deliberately weakening themselves in order to go back to feeding on mortals. But powers are lost, knowledge becomes muddled, the memories fade. Since Mathias still feeds as we do, it’s assumed that he has gone to sleep several times in his long unlife. Perhaps even he doesn’t remember the truth of his origins.”
“Deborah said there were three elders in the city. The Prince, his bodyguard, and who is the third? You?”
“No, I was born a century ago, but that is still fairly young among our kind. The third would be the Malkovian.”
“Ernie?” guessed Michael, given the name he was told. “What is his story?”
“You could ask him, but I doubt any of us have heard the same one twice. He’s another good example of how normal ceases to mean much in those of great age. Ernie is quite mad, utterly mercurial in personality. Every time he introduces himself, his name is different, although always some variation on Ernie or Ernest. His tone and demeanor change from moment to moment. It’s like there are a hundred people bottled up in that mind of his and you never know which one you’re going to get. One moment, he’s a child, the next a king, and then a sage or perhaps a warrior, and then a court jester. All rolled into one.”
“He could read my mind.”
“He can scramble it just as easily. But, unlike the Prince, there is little malice in Ernie. In some ways, that makes him more dangerous. He’s as capricious as a small child, and will act out as such with all the powers of a thousand year old vampire at his disposal. Even the Prince fears him.”
“I can see why. But why not kill him, or is it not that easy?”
“Ernie has broken no laws. In fact, despite his madness, he keeps the Masquerade more diligently than any of us. He’s taken it as his personal duty to keep us secret from the mortals of this area.”
“That’s why he sent his thrall after he learned about Todd.” Michael thought to himself. “He’s a useful tool then.” He said aloud.
“And he’ll remain alive until he ceases to be such. But I wouldn’t want to be anywhere nearby when the Djinn or Mathias decides to take Ernie down. No one really knows what he can do.”
Michael decided to mingle a bit. As he walked away from Solomon, he noticed Ernie staring at him from a distance. He found the experience disconcerting, now knowing what Solomon had told him.
The kindred named Andreas, who Michael had heard of but never met, was speaking to Deborah. He wandered over to introduce himself.
“Ah, so you are our lovely Deborah’s prize. I am Andreas Fortunato of Clan Ventrue.” His Spanish accent was thick and he had the all the hallmarks of someone from the Iberian peninsula of Europe: dark hair, dark eyes, dark features.
“Was it your prize that just wandered off with our beloved Prince?” said Michael sardonically.
“Indeed. Norman will no doubt be quite humbled by the experience, despite his background. He is veteran and has seen many combats. But never anything quite so scary as The Djinn.”
“Few of us have.”
“We should introduce him to the Mad Bishop sometime.” Suggested Andreas with a laugh.
“Andreas, even I’d rather not see him again. Ernie is scary enough.”
“Mad Bishop?”
“Ernie’s sire or childe. No one is sure which, but Ernie is a playful crazy. The Bishop is a sociopath of the first order. Lives in Lynchburg.”
“Sometimes, with Malkovians, you simply get out of their way.” admitted Andreas. “Let us be thankful that it is a bloodline that is somewhat rare.” With that comment, Deborah took her leave, leaving Michael and Andreas alone.
“Bloodline?” inquired Michael.
“Ah, I see Deborah has not filled in all the blanks quite yet.”
“Solomon keeps reminding me of how pathetic I am. It grows tiresome.”
“That’s just Solomon. You should be pleased he’s so nasty with you. He only does that with those that he likes.”
“And those he doesn’t?”
“They tend not to live very long.”
“Comforting. But about the bloodlines? What are those?”
“The kindred are divided into 5 families that we call Clans.”
“Yes, Deborah has told me that much.”
“Well, from each Clan can also come bloodlines, variations on the norm, that are passed down from sire to childe. Odds are good you and your sire may inherit the traits of her sire, who is said to be of the Toreador bloodline of Clan Daeva. Malkovians are a bloodline of my clan, the Ventrue, and I think you can already guess what their distinguishing trait is.”
“Insanity?”
“Indeed. They are all quite mad.”
Mathias returned at that moment, bringing with him a somewhat shaken Kindred. Although a young vampire like Michael, the man he had once been was old, perhaps mid-70s. He came over to stand beside Andreas.
“Norman Allison, this is Michael Allens.” Said Andreas. “He is as new to our world as you.”
“You’re the childe of that one over there?” Norman asked, pointing to Deborah.
“Yes, she’s mine.”
“You’re not any older than she is. Just kids.”
“That kid is almost 70 years old.” Said Michael defensively. “Andreas said you were a veteran. Navy perhaps? Deborah said she’s the daughter of a hooker who worked the yards in San Fran. Maybe you knew her.”
Norman grew angry at the insinuation. “I used to wipe the floor with punks like you. I’m sure I still can.”
“That’s quite enough, both of you.” Said Andreas sternly. “The last thing we need is the Djinn down here breaking up fights. Odds are good you’ll both lose your heads for that. His scimitar is very sharp. As for you, Norman, Michael does have a good point. You cannot judge our kind by the standards of the mortal world. One such as you, who is aged by mortal standards, is nothing more than a babe here. And Deborah, who looks young enough to be going to a high school dance, is far older and more powerful than she appears. And if you think that’s not lesson enough, just wait.”
As if on cue, the last of the city’s kindred then entered. A pair, one a young woman who looked to be in her mid to late 20s, the other a small girl, perhaps 12 or 13. The child bowed to the prince.
“Ah, Sophia, is this your latest surrogate?” said Mathias.
“Latest?” said the woman nervously. Mathias ignored her, but continued talking to the young child.
“The last lost her head to the Djinn some years ago.” Whispered Andreas. “Sophia’s been seeking a new childe ever since. When Deborah made her request, Sofia jumped on board immediately. Then, to be fair, I was given privilege as well.”
“Sophia’s the kid?” asked Norman. Mathias took the young woman off to have his token conversation and scare with her.
“Indeed. Embraced sometime in mid 18th century.” Answered Andreas. “Normally, we don’t embrace mortals quite that young, but she was an orphan dying of plague. Her sire had pity on her and gave her unlife. And despite certain obvious disadvantages, she’s managed to survive for over two centuries. She uses her childer as her primary contact with the mortal world. To them, she appears the dutiful daughter to a lovely young mother, but the reality to us is that the child is the master. Hence why it is difficult to judge our kind by the mortal standards of age.”
“So,” interjected Michael. “although Sophia was embraced as a child and Norman as an old man, we would be essentially equals.” Michael paused. “presuming that Sophia was newly turned that is.”
“I think I follow your question.” Said Andreas. “Yes, a 12 year old, a 21 year old, and 80 year old all turned at around the same time would display the same amount of power and strength as vampires. Their former age might give them certain advantages or drawbacks in areas of skill, emotional maturity, experience, but in terms of our supernatural power, they would be equal.”
“And Sophia, although only being in the body of a 12 year old, is quite formidable.”
“Very much so.”
Mathias returned with the young woman, who like Norman and Michael before her seemed a bit shaken by the experience. Not more than a minute later, the Djinn himself entered and took up a place by the Prince.
“It is great delight.” Began Mathias in his grandfatherly voice. “to see all of you here tonight. No doubt, as your instruction in your new life progresses, we will meet again and I will have the great joy of welcoming you fully into our society. But regardless of whether you are newly turned or an old veteran, I must emphasize the importance of our laws.
“You cannot reveal your presence to the mortal world. Our society depends on absolute secrecy. Do not feed openly. Do not use your gifts openly. And do not kill lightly, for each of these things draws attention we do not want.
“Neither can you freely turn others into our kind. This too threatens us. Only by my leave can you do this.
“And the last of our laws is one that hardly deserves mentioning. You cannot drink a fellow kindred to the point of death. To do so is the vilest crime among us.” Michael grew curious. When Deborah had explained the three laws to him, she had glossed over this one, as if it was of least import.
“With that, I bid you all good evening. Come, Djinn, let us return to our domain.” The Prince, his thralls, and the Djinn made their way to the exit.
Deborah rejoined Michael.
“That’s all?” asked Michael.
“The introductions were the key item on the agenda tonight.” Said Deborah. “That the Prince has now retired indicates that he is unwilling to hear any petitions tonight. But that does not mean that the rest of us will not be trading favors tonight. Take advantage. Mingle, meet, greet, see what you can learn.”
“I suppose I shall.” Said Michael. He returned to Andreas and gave him a polite nod. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Michael made his way over to the one pair of kindred he had not yet spoken to, Sophia and her childe, Corrine. His interest was not on education however. Although he knew Sophia likely had much to teach him, it was the attractive “mother” Corrine that he wanted to meet.
“Evening, Lady Sophia, I am Michael Allens.” Still, a certain degree of courtesy was probably warranted.
“You are Deborah’s?”
“Yes.”
“And the diligent student, I see.” Said Sophia. She turned to her “mother.” “Do you feel it, Corrine? The allure, the desire? He does it almost on reflex. Most Daeva do. You must be cautious around them, or you will find yourself trapped in their web of seduction.”
“Excuse me?” imposed Michael.
“Your intent here is transparent, childe. Even lacking Mathias’ gift of mind-reading, it’s obvious what you want.” Again, she turned to Corrine. “Do you desire it also?”
Corrine nodded.
“Is that your true will or the one he is imposing on you with his powers? Learn the difference. Go, if you wish. There is little harm in this, but learn the lesson I have taught and learn to resist so that your will is dominant.”
“I’m Corrine.” She said as they walked away.
“Michael.” He repeated his introduction. “So what was all that about?”
“I’m sure my sire would say something to the effect of ‘Overcome the beast you are and you will be something greater than both vampire and mortal.’ She’s full of pithy little proverbs like that.”
“So she’s a tiny little philosopher. I guess all us childer get taught in different ways and learn different things.”
“And I suppose your lessons primarily involve learning to make total strangers trust and desire you.”
“Comes in handy for hunting.” Admitted Michael.
“So what am I, Michael Allens?” asked Corrine directly. “Just another conquest?”
“Yes.” Said Michael honestly. “And an experiment.”
“How so?”
“To see how much power over another Kindred I could have. Your sire, with her age and experience, obviously was not impressed. But you, you folded like a bad poker player confronted by a good bluff.”
“And what has that taught you?”
“That we are sheep among wolves and that it may be good for us childer to find common cause with one another. To trust in the benevolence of our elders seems foolish.”
“Seeking to trade favors to curry my favor. So like children pretending to be grown-ups, we play our own version of the vampire’s Danse Macabre.” She laughed. “So what do you offer, Michael?”
“A night you won’t forget.” Michael boasted boldly.
Corrine laughed again. “You offer so little.”
“You haven’t sampled the goods yet.”
She continued laughing. “Ah, but the anticipation is often greater than the having. And no decent barterer takes the first offer. You have to do better, Michael Allens.” With that, she turned and headed back to her sire.
Michael shrugged and was about to return to Deborah’s side when Ernie slinked over to him. “Is that an open offer? I would accept.”
Michael grimaced at the prospect. “No, Ernie, it is not open.” He said with as much politeness as he could muster. “I don’t go that way.”
Ernie gave an exaggerated pout. “Ah, but you don’t know what else I’d offer.” He proffered a business card. “Come and see.”
Michael took the offered card and looked at it.
The light within calls to you. We can help you answer it.
Church of Light Incarnate
7 Bullitt Ave
Roanoke, VA
Michael shrugged again, offered a polite thanks to Ernie, and then headed over to Deborah.
“She shot you down, didn’t she?” said Deb with a teasing tone.
“I guess scoring with another vamp is going to be harder.”
“Of course, it is. Mortals suspect nothing, knowing nothing of our powers or purposes. Another Kindred, on the other hand, expects a game is being played. Nothing is offered in our world without something expected in return. Everyone has an ulterior motive.”
“Including you.” Said Michael grimly.
“Of course. You know why I turned you. I’ve made that as clear as I safely can at this point.”
“So there’s no affection for me in the things you do?”
“Ah, don’t be so cynical as that, dear Michael. It does get lonely, being what we are. It does help to have someone to share even a brief part of our existence. Whatever other purposes I have for you, I am also fond of you, Michael Allens. You’ve made these last weeks more bearable.”
Michael was surprised to hear that from her. “So vampires can fall in love?”
“Oh, yes.” She said. “But we’re not there.”
“Is that where you want things to go?”
“There is nothing more perilous for our kind than that of which you speak. No, I don’t want to go there. And neither do you.”
Michael saw that as a strong hint to change the subject, but this was also something he wanted to ponder further. He brought forth the business card Ernie had given him.
“So, speaking of peril, what does this mean?”
“Ernie, or at least one part of him, runs a small religious cult out of an abandoned storefront in downtown Roanoke. Be cautious, Michael. You’ve gained his interest and that’s often not a good thing. And then Corrine, perhaps on Sophia’s orders, is playing hard to get with you, most likely to lure you in for some nefarious scheme.”
“So this is the other side of the coin? The other part of what it means to be a vampire.”
“Yes, this is what we call the Danse Macabre. The music to which each of us lives out our lives: Favors, maneuvers, schemes, plans, ambitions, desires. This is a lesson I can’t really teach you. You’ll have to learn this one on your own.”
----
There was a heaviness to the air inside the ICU at New River Valley Hospital. Upon the bed, plugged into a respirator and various monitors, was Todd. A slew of nurses and doctors tended to him and then one by one exited out of the room. Only a single male nurse and a single physician remained behind; the nurse busied himself with Todd’s charts, the doctor spoke to his companions.
“Your brother was lucky. He was found rather quickly and so we were able to stabilize him before…” said the Doctor.
“He would have died out there.” Said Shawn.
“Almost assuredly. And he still could, but he’s got a far better chance of survival now than he did laying on the ground in the woods. We’ll keep a close watch on him. You can see him, but I would recommend not staying too long. We’ll need to be in there with some regularity.”
With that, the Doctor headed down the hall towards the nurses’ station. Shawn and Rebecca both walked in.
“This is a seriously fucked up town.” Said Shawn.
“This is my fault.” Lamented Rebecca.
“Would you stop blaming yourself for everything, Becca?” said Shawn adamantly. “You did not kill Michael. You did not get my brother in this mess.”
“But you all came because of me. I came down here for answers. Michael’s been gone three weeks. The police have given up. His parents buried an empty coffin back in Charleston. But I couldn’t accept that he was gone. So I drag the two of you down here and now your brother nearly dies in a mugging. All for me and my stupidity.”
“Stop.” Barked Shawn fiercely. “This doesn’t help anybody.”
“Perhaps not. But I can’t help how I feel. I got you into this. I should have just accepted the truth and been done with it. I’m cursed. First my brother, then Michael, and now Todd. Everyone around me.”
“Now that’s a load of bullshit and you know it.”
“Plenty of evidence to the contrary.” Retorted Rebecca.
“There’s clearly no reasoning with you when you’re like this. Come on. The doctor said we shouldn’t linger. We’ll come back in the morning.” He took her by the arm and led her outside.
As they departed, the male nurse who had been standing by the whole time suddenly seemed to shimmer and change form. Where there had been a nurse, now stood a rather eccentrically dressed vampire.
“Curious.” Said Ernie to himself. “Most curious.”
Act One Chapter Eight
Deborah, who had shown almost no interest in college life outside of using the town’s nightlife as a hunting ground, had gotten tickets to the game. Michael found this surprising.
“You’ve never shown any interest in sports before.” He commented.
“This time is different. The Prince has come. Every year, he watches a nighttime home game and then holds court. You are to be introduced to him tonight.”
“So this really isn’t about the game.”
“Enjoy the game. The Prince will. And then he will be very interested to meet you. As will the other kindred of the city.”
“So how many of us are there? You, me, Solomon, Andreas who I’ve never met and his childe.”
“In the Roanoke domain there are 5 more than what you’ve listed, including another newly turned like yourself and Andreas’ pet. There are also three elders of great age, including the Prince himself.”
“So ten of us total. And one of these is the enemy I am to help kill?”
Deborah gave no answer.
“You’re going to tell me again what Solomon did. That a fledgling childe like myself cannot keep your secrets.”
“You can’t. And tonight you’ll learn why.”
Michael twisted his mouth in mild frustration. He didn’t like being treated like a baby by Deborah. He may not be a full fledged vampire yet, but he was no simpleton either. But he also knew there was little to be gained by pressing the matter, so he changed the subject.
“I’m hungry.”
“I believe we have a feast before us. Just be discrete. There are a lot of people here.”
Michael gave her a half-mocking salute and headed off into the crowd.
Seduction would not serve in this environment. So Michael would have to find a more direct method. Since the game had begun, most of the crowd was now gathered in the stands, leaving only a few dozen people milling about below near the rest rooms and concessions.
He scanned about and spotted a solitary girl standing next to a large support column, smoking a cigarette, apparently waiting for some friends. With a smile, he walked over to her.
“Hi.” He said. He started digging in his pockets, as if to fetch a cigarette himself. “Got a light?”
“Sure.” She said, looking down to her purse to begin rummaging through it. With that, he struck.
He drank deeply but cautiously, making certain not to kill his prey. As she passed out, Michael came back up. The wound closed and he gently guided her down to the floor. The sound of a group approaching reached his ears. Time to be elsewhere.
With lightning speed, he made his way to a nearby utility closet and darted inside to hide. The group of students spotted the passed out girl and dashed over to help. He could hear their voices through the door and as he listened, he heard something he couldn’t believe: a voice he recognized. A very familiar voice.
He cracked open the door to look out and his suspicions and fears were confirmed. It was Rebecca.
But not as he remembered her. It had been only about two months since he’d last seen her at that homecoming dance and he hardly recognized her. Her red hair had been dyed over with black highlights. Her clothing style had radically changed. Gone were the simple t-shirts and jeans he remembered she always wore. Instead, she was in a black leather jacket with a tank top beneath and a pair of tight black jeans. As she doffed the jacket to give the unconscious girl some warmth, he could see a tattoo of a butterfly on her upper arm. In style, she’d gone very Goth.
“What has happened to you, Becca?” Michael wondered in his thoughts. His eyes surveyed over the rest of those around her. Most of them appeared to be Virginia Tech students he didn’t recognize, but two more familiar faces were within the crowd: Shawn and his brother.
Michael sniffed the air, and the cacophony of smells entered his mind, but three were familiar, as if he knew them. Odd, he thought. He’d not encountered these three as a vampire before, and yet he knew their scent nonetheless. Michael smiled to himself as a dark thought entered his mind.
“Perhaps I’ll cash in my part of our deal early, Deborah.” He said to himself.
----
As the game continued, Michael hovered just out of sight near the trio of his former classmates. He wasn’t sure what he’d do exactly to Rebecca if he caught her alone, but Shawn and Todd were in for a world of hurt.
He was admittedly curious as to why they were here to begin with. Todd was not college material at all and had never shown any brand loyalty to a football team outside of West Virginia University or the Steelers. Rebecca had only been talking about WVU or Marshall, West Virginia’s two major universities, for her college and as for Shawn, Michael simply didn’t know. And if they had come to find out more about his disappearance, why take the time and effort to come to a game?
Speculation gave him no answers, not even decent guesses, but his thoughts were cut short when Todd broke off from the group and headed below. Something about his demeanor told Michael it was a rest room dash, so Michael followed at a distance.
Sure enough, Todd went for the rest rooms. Michael’s mind raced with strategies. There were simply too many people about to physically assault him here. Deborah would be furious at such a blatant use of his power, and with the Prince supposedly present as well, that was too great a risk. He would have to lure him away.
Michael came up with a plan. He waited outside the rest room door until he heard Todd finish and begin to exit. At that, Michael began to enter, running right into him.
“Excuse me.” He said hurriedly and continued inside. Was the sight of him and the voice enough to grab Todd’s curiosity? Michael hoped so.
Michael went through the motions of using the urinal and then washing his hands. He exited and headed towards the rear exit of the stadium. He was immediately aware of someone following behind him. Curiosity would kill more than just the cat tonight.
He exited the stadium grounds, surrounded by a small handful of others who had, for whatever reason, decided to leave the game early. Michael cut a left turn and headed across the backside of the stadium towards a copse of woods that separated the stadium complex from the Green Street neighborhood of Blacksburg proper. The woods were thin but there were few enough around that he could make his move in some seclusion.
About mid-way through the woods, he stopped. “You know, Todd,” he called back. “It’s not very polite to stalk someone.”
“It is you. They said you were dead. Drowned in the river.”
Michael turned. “Only what they were meant to think.”
“Why?” said Todd. It was the last thing Michael expected to emerge from his mouth.
“Why would you care?” said Michael in reply, walking slowly back towards Todd. “Wasn’t I just another nerd for you to beat up?”
“Do you know what your disappearance did to her?”
“Again, why would you care?”
“She’s my brother’s girlfriend. And no one fucks with my brother.”
“Family loyalty. How odd. You two put on such a show of hating each other in public, and now I see sympathy for him and his plight in your eyes. How pathetic.”
“You don’t give a rat’s ass about anybody but yourself, do you, Allens?” said Todd, building himself up and trying to be intimidating. “If I'd known half of what I’ve just learned about you in the last minute or two, I’d have done more than just bully you. If I’d known what you really are, you’d be dead.”
“What stops you now? After all, most everyone thinks I really am.”
Todd smiled evilly, showing that the thought had not occurred to him until now. “Good point.” He said, cracking his knuckles.
“Take your best shot.” Said Michael in a cocky tone. Todd responded with a right hook that landed solid on Michael’s jaw.
Once, that blow would have sent him flying and probably put him out with a single shot. But Michael’s head merely snapped to one side. He turned back to Todd, barely even a mark on his pale skin.
“Best you can do?”
Another right, then a left, and then a body blow. Todd hammered Michael with everything he had, frustrated and enraged by Michael’s seemingly inability to feel any of it.
A powerful uppercut finally had enough force to knock Michael off his feet and onto his back. He lay there and laughed.
“My God,” he said, getting back up. “what a pummeling that would have been back in the day. I’d be sore for weeks, if not hospitalized.”
“How the fuck can you stand up and laugh?” said Todd.
“You really want to know?” said Michael with a smile. And then he was gone.
No, he was behind Todd. Todd turned to face him, but only got halfway before a sledgehammer like blow landed on his jaw. There was the crunch of bone and Todd went flying.
“Funny thing about everyone thinking you’re dead.” Said Michael, all mirth now gone from his voice. “No one will look for you as a murder suspect.” His voice was cold and cruel.
Todd staggered to his feet, blood pouring from his mouth. There was abject terror in his eyes. “Afraid, Todd?” taunted Michael. “Now you know how it feels.”
Todd began to run, but Michael easily moved to intercept, slamming a hard blow into Todd’s chest. There was the sound of cracking ribs and Todd went sprawling again.
Michael rolled him over onto his back. He landed a hard punch to his other side, again snapping bone with each strike. “That was for the bullying.” He stomped down on his shin, again the crunch of bone. “That was for the humiliation. And for your threat a few minutes ago?” He stomped down just below Todd’s ribcage. There was no crunch this time, but Michael knew full well what that blow had done.
“By now, you are likely hemorrhaging blood from about a half dozen internal organs.” Michael knelt down next to him. “With your rib cage shattered, your lungs will soon collapse. The question is, will you die from suffocation or from bleeding? Something to think about as you lay there. I’d tell you to think twice next time about bullying nerds, but then, for you, there won’t be a next time.”
With that, Michael walked away and left Todd to his fate.
----
Michael jumped the fence when the guards weren’t looking and then sought out to find Deborah. The game was now almost over and people were beginning to leave in large numbers. Even amidst the massive football-game crowd, she was not hard to find.
“You took long enough.” Said Deborah as he fell into line at her side.
“Oh, I decided to watch the game from a different set of seats.”
“Did you rob some poor girl of her tickets?”
“Hardly.” Said Michael with faux defensiveness. “I just thought your seats sucked.”
“Even Kindred have their limitations.”
“Unless you’re the Prince.” Supposed Michael. “So when do we meet him?”
“After the team has moved to the locker room, the Prince will use the same passageways to make his way to one of the classrooms beneath the stadium. We will meet him there.”
“So what are we waiting for?”
“A thinner crowd. Be patient, my childe. I can assure you that meeting Mathias is not something you want to look forward to.”
They mingled about the lower area of the stadium for another hour or so as the post-game crowd finally thinned out enough for them to go below without drawing too much attention. They headed down a set of stairs and exited out into a white hallway.
“Well, what have we here?” said a tall thin man as he came down the hall towards them. A retinue of people, most dressed like hippies and Bohemians, followed after. “Am I the first to meet our newest member?”
He stepped forward, arms stretched forward, and he took Michael’s face in his hands. “A fine specimen.” He focused on Michael’s eyes, looking deep within. “Although a mite impulsive. Seems he’s already had something of an adventure tonight.”
At that, one of the kindred’s followers broke from the crowd and headed rapidly up the stairs behind Deborah and Michael. The Kindred gave it no heed, releasing Michael and stepping back. “I am being rude. I am Ernest Malkov Peabody the Fourth, Esquire. Most around here call me Ernie.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Said Michael nervously. Something about the kindred’s gaze was disconcerting.
“What have you done now?” demanded Deborah of Michael, grabbing him by the arm and turning him towards her.
“What makes you think I’ve done anything?” said Michael defensively. It was a weak lie and he knew it.
“Ah, a doubter.” Interjected Ernie. “Seems he has no faith in our royal powers. Tell me, Michael, at what age did you stop that retched habit of picking your nose?”
Michael’s anger flashed and he turned quickly to face Ernie.
“Still touchy about it, I see. Is that why Todd bullied you so mercilessly? No, I suppose not. He came later, but there were others. Funny how an ancient memory of years past can still inflame you. Tell me, Deborah,” Ernie turned to her, “with his temper, are you sure he’s not a Gangrel?”
“Quite sure.” Said a voice from behind them.
“Ah, Solomon, so good you could join us tonight as well. Have you met our young Michael?”
“I have. I’m not impressed. He has much to learn.” Solomon joined the growing crowd.
“I’ve been a vampire less than 3 months and you expect me to know everything?” retorted Michael, annoyed at their critique and disdain.
“Ignorance is not a shield the Prince will long accept, young one,” said Ernie, “particularly if you keep leaving messes for him to clean up. You keep this one on too long a leash, Deborah. The Prince will not be pleased. And speaking of that, he awaits us within.”
“Is he settled?”
“Feasting on a cheerleader last I saw. I’m sure he’s done by now. Come.” Barked Ernie. “It’s time for another lesson, young one. One you’ll not soon forget.”
Ernie marched them down the hallway towards a classroom. Michael noted that the Bohemian retinue did not follow, but Solomon did. For the first time since his change, Michael felt the chill of fear. They seemed to know all about his attack on Todd and were none too pleased about it.
They stepped inside the classroom to witness a scene of terror. At the front of the room, where the professor would normally stand lecturing, was a grotesque creature, human in shape, but that is where the similarities ended. The beast’s skin was pale and partially translucent, allowing Michael an almost unhindered view of the blood vessels beneath. It was bald and dressed in a monk’s robe. Before it, stood one of Virginia Tech’s cheerleaders. She stood motionless, as if in a trance, before the monstrous creature.
“Is that…the Prince?” asked Michael as he followed Deborah along the wall to the top of the room.
“Yes. That is Prince Mathias. He is of the Nosferatu Clan, which is why his appearance is so grotesque.”
“What is he doing?”
“Erasing memories. He is a master at reading and manipulating the minds of his victims. A helpful gift to have when your very appearance would frighten away your prey.”
“He can read minds?” said Michael with a shudder. “And so can Ernie?”
“Yes. And so can others. And now you know why Solomon and I have been so secretive with you about our plans. With only a touch, Ernie could pluck an unpleasant memory from your childhood to tease you.” Deborah gave Michael a sharp look. “And he is fully aware of what you were doing during the game.”
“It was a calculated gamble.” Said Michael. “A mortal who knew me, who saw me. One that could reveal that I’m alive to others.”
“So you killed him?”
“Yes.”
“You better have.”
Prince Mathias turned away from the cheerleader as two thralls came forward to escort her away. He dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief. “She will remember nothing.” He said in a quiet voice. “I see Lord Ernie, and our ever vigilant warrior Solomon in our midst. Also, lovely Deborah and is this your new pet?”
“I am Michael Allens…your highness.”
“How quaint. Come down, boy. Let me see you more clearly.” Mathias gestured for Michael to come forward. Michael came down to the front, walking on legs that seemed to move on their own.
“He is weak, Deborah.” Criticized Mathias. Despite the critique, there was something of affection in Mathias' voice.
“As are we all when mere babes.” She replied.
“You were made to help our dear Deborah deal with an enemy. I wonder who?” said the Prince as he looked Michael over. “No one too powerful I would imagine.”
“I don’t know who it is.”
“There is little need for you to repeat what I already know, childe.” Chided the Prince gently. “It has been a long time since we have had one so young in our midst. And yet we have three. Two more will come soon with their sires. But for now, let us learn something of one another. Walk with me, Michael.” The Prince strove toward the door and Michael followed.
They came out into the hall and headed from there to outside. “Deborah is a lovely thing, is she not?” His tone had a grandfatherly aspect to it, friendly and inviting, despite his vile appearance.
“If you can read my mind, then you already know what I think of her.”
“You learn fast. That is something she has already commended about you.” Mathias smiled, although it seemed a sickly thing. “You are a lovely thing as well. I can see why she chose you.” His tone shifted and darkened. “It would be a shame if your impulsive adventurism came back to harm either of you.” He stopped and turned to face Michael. “Has she told you what I am? What I do?”
“You are the Prince. You enforce the laws.”
“Indeed, I do. And do you know what those laws are?”
"Hide our existence from the mortal world. Don't make any other vampires without your permission. And something to do with not drinking another kindred to death."
"Your knowledge is incomplete, but adequate. You will learn in time. For now, you are a fledgling, a babe in the woods. You are your sire's charge. Her sins are yours to bear and yours are hers."
"So I screw up and she gets punished."
"You both do, yes." Coming forth behind Mathias, as if made of the very substance of shadow itself, was a dark-skinned man, armed with a scimitar, and dressed as a soldier. Michael nearly jumped out of his skin.
The Prince continued. “And this is my primary tool of enforcement. This is Youssef Zahid Anwar, my bodyguard and personal enforcer. To others, he is known as The Djinn, after the demons of Arabic legend. Let me assure you of something, young Michael. Whatever skills you think you have, the Djinn has a thousand years of practice on you. So if you decide to break the laws of my domain, you will answer to him or to me. Either way, I think you know who the loser of such a confrontation will be.”
“I understand you perfectly.” Said Michael timidly.
“Good. “ Quick as lightning, his voice returned to its old friendly grandfatherly tone. “Then let us rejoin the others. You are one of our guests of honor tonight and the others are so eager to meet you.”
----
“So, did The Djinn make you piss yourself?” asked Solomon after Michael returned.
“He would have if I had any piss in me.” Replied Michael honestly.
“Elders are scary enough. And that one is a Moorish warrior from the 12th century to boot.”
“You’re telling me he’s 800 years old?”
“Mathias is even older, if the stories he tells about himself are to be believed.”
“And those are?”
“Deborah mentioned you were a bit on the religious side before becoming one of us. How well do you know your Bible?”
“Better than some. Not as well as others.”
“You remember the name of the 13th apostle? From the book of Acts?”
“Math…no way.”
“So he claims. But don’t let that fool you. If he was a disciple, either he has fallen far or Jesus was nothing like what anyone believes him to be.”
“You don’t believe his story.”
“I know that he has told it and I know that he very well could be that old. And then there’s his eyes.”
“His eyes?”
“You didn’t notice? Look at them more closely.”
Michael watched as Mathias took one of the other new kindred away, no doubt to give him the Djinn-treatment as well. He looked closely as the Prince glanced back upon the room before leaving.
“Something isn’t right about them.” Michael admitted.
“I forget how young and pathetic you are.” Snarled Solomon. “His pupils are crosses, not circles. In his eyes, he bears the mark of the Messiah he claims to follow.”
“Claims? Not claimed?”
“Deborah has not told you much about the covenants. Yes, claims. Prince Mathias claims to still be a devoted follower, but what he follows looks nothing like the church that I see in the mortal world nor remember from my own days in that world.”
“So, seeing as I’m so young and pathetic, why don’t you teach me a thing or two.” Said Michael boldly. “I take it cross-shaped pupils are not normal.”
“Not hardly. Although, when one of our kind gets that old, it’s hard to say what passes for normal.”
“And the Djinn’s little shadow trick?”
“Again, something you won’t see many of our kind doing. As we age, we grow in strength. But there is a price and a trade-off for that strength. Eventually, we can no longer sustain our life by feeding on the blood of the living. Only the blood of the living dead will do.”
“Other Kindred?”
“Yes. Most find that untenable, so they go to sleep for decades, deliberately weakening themselves in order to go back to feeding on mortals. But powers are lost, knowledge becomes muddled, the memories fade. Since Mathias still feeds as we do, it’s assumed that he has gone to sleep several times in his long unlife. Perhaps even he doesn’t remember the truth of his origins.”
“Deborah said there were three elders in the city. The Prince, his bodyguard, and who is the third? You?”
“No, I was born a century ago, but that is still fairly young among our kind. The third would be the Malkovian.”
“Ernie?” guessed Michael, given the name he was told. “What is his story?”
“You could ask him, but I doubt any of us have heard the same one twice. He’s another good example of how normal ceases to mean much in those of great age. Ernie is quite mad, utterly mercurial in personality. Every time he introduces himself, his name is different, although always some variation on Ernie or Ernest. His tone and demeanor change from moment to moment. It’s like there are a hundred people bottled up in that mind of his and you never know which one you’re going to get. One moment, he’s a child, the next a king, and then a sage or perhaps a warrior, and then a court jester. All rolled into one.”
“He could read my mind.”
“He can scramble it just as easily. But, unlike the Prince, there is little malice in Ernie. In some ways, that makes him more dangerous. He’s as capricious as a small child, and will act out as such with all the powers of a thousand year old vampire at his disposal. Even the Prince fears him.”
“I can see why. But why not kill him, or is it not that easy?”
“Ernie has broken no laws. In fact, despite his madness, he keeps the Masquerade more diligently than any of us. He’s taken it as his personal duty to keep us secret from the mortals of this area.”
“That’s why he sent his thrall after he learned about Todd.” Michael thought to himself. “He’s a useful tool then.” He said aloud.
“And he’ll remain alive until he ceases to be such. But I wouldn’t want to be anywhere nearby when the Djinn or Mathias decides to take Ernie down. No one really knows what he can do.”
Michael decided to mingle a bit. As he walked away from Solomon, he noticed Ernie staring at him from a distance. He found the experience disconcerting, now knowing what Solomon had told him.
The kindred named Andreas, who Michael had heard of but never met, was speaking to Deborah. He wandered over to introduce himself.
“Ah, so you are our lovely Deborah’s prize. I am Andreas Fortunato of Clan Ventrue.” His Spanish accent was thick and he had the all the hallmarks of someone from the Iberian peninsula of Europe: dark hair, dark eyes, dark features.
“Was it your prize that just wandered off with our beloved Prince?” said Michael sardonically.
“Indeed. Norman will no doubt be quite humbled by the experience, despite his background. He is veteran and has seen many combats. But never anything quite so scary as The Djinn.”
“Few of us have.”
“We should introduce him to the Mad Bishop sometime.” Suggested Andreas with a laugh.
“Andreas, even I’d rather not see him again. Ernie is scary enough.”
“Mad Bishop?”
“Ernie’s sire or childe. No one is sure which, but Ernie is a playful crazy. The Bishop is a sociopath of the first order. Lives in Lynchburg.”
“Sometimes, with Malkovians, you simply get out of their way.” admitted Andreas. “Let us be thankful that it is a bloodline that is somewhat rare.” With that comment, Deborah took her leave, leaving Michael and Andreas alone.
“Bloodline?” inquired Michael.
“Ah, I see Deborah has not filled in all the blanks quite yet.”
“Solomon keeps reminding me of how pathetic I am. It grows tiresome.”
“That’s just Solomon. You should be pleased he’s so nasty with you. He only does that with those that he likes.”
“And those he doesn’t?”
“They tend not to live very long.”
“Comforting. But about the bloodlines? What are those?”
“The kindred are divided into 5 families that we call Clans.”
“Yes, Deborah has told me that much.”
“Well, from each Clan can also come bloodlines, variations on the norm, that are passed down from sire to childe. Odds are good you and your sire may inherit the traits of her sire, who is said to be of the Toreador bloodline of Clan Daeva. Malkovians are a bloodline of my clan, the Ventrue, and I think you can already guess what their distinguishing trait is.”
“Insanity?”
“Indeed. They are all quite mad.”
Mathias returned at that moment, bringing with him a somewhat shaken Kindred. Although a young vampire like Michael, the man he had once been was old, perhaps mid-70s. He came over to stand beside Andreas.
“Norman Allison, this is Michael Allens.” Said Andreas. “He is as new to our world as you.”
“You’re the childe of that one over there?” Norman asked, pointing to Deborah.
“Yes, she’s mine.”
“You’re not any older than she is. Just kids.”
“That kid is almost 70 years old.” Said Michael defensively. “Andreas said you were a veteran. Navy perhaps? Deborah said she’s the daughter of a hooker who worked the yards in San Fran. Maybe you knew her.”
Norman grew angry at the insinuation. “I used to wipe the floor with punks like you. I’m sure I still can.”
“That’s quite enough, both of you.” Said Andreas sternly. “The last thing we need is the Djinn down here breaking up fights. Odds are good you’ll both lose your heads for that. His scimitar is very sharp. As for you, Norman, Michael does have a good point. You cannot judge our kind by the standards of the mortal world. One such as you, who is aged by mortal standards, is nothing more than a babe here. And Deborah, who looks young enough to be going to a high school dance, is far older and more powerful than she appears. And if you think that’s not lesson enough, just wait.”
As if on cue, the last of the city’s kindred then entered. A pair, one a young woman who looked to be in her mid to late 20s, the other a small girl, perhaps 12 or 13. The child bowed to the prince.
“Ah, Sophia, is this your latest surrogate?” said Mathias.
“Latest?” said the woman nervously. Mathias ignored her, but continued talking to the young child.
“The last lost her head to the Djinn some years ago.” Whispered Andreas. “Sophia’s been seeking a new childe ever since. When Deborah made her request, Sofia jumped on board immediately. Then, to be fair, I was given privilege as well.”
“Sophia’s the kid?” asked Norman. Mathias took the young woman off to have his token conversation and scare with her.
“Indeed. Embraced sometime in mid 18th century.” Answered Andreas. “Normally, we don’t embrace mortals quite that young, but she was an orphan dying of plague. Her sire had pity on her and gave her unlife. And despite certain obvious disadvantages, she’s managed to survive for over two centuries. She uses her childer as her primary contact with the mortal world. To them, she appears the dutiful daughter to a lovely young mother, but the reality to us is that the child is the master. Hence why it is difficult to judge our kind by the mortal standards of age.”
“So,” interjected Michael. “although Sophia was embraced as a child and Norman as an old man, we would be essentially equals.” Michael paused. “presuming that Sophia was newly turned that is.”
“I think I follow your question.” Said Andreas. “Yes, a 12 year old, a 21 year old, and 80 year old all turned at around the same time would display the same amount of power and strength as vampires. Their former age might give them certain advantages or drawbacks in areas of skill, emotional maturity, experience, but in terms of our supernatural power, they would be equal.”
“And Sophia, although only being in the body of a 12 year old, is quite formidable.”
“Very much so.”
Mathias returned with the young woman, who like Norman and Michael before her seemed a bit shaken by the experience. Not more than a minute later, the Djinn himself entered and took up a place by the Prince.
“It is great delight.” Began Mathias in his grandfatherly voice. “to see all of you here tonight. No doubt, as your instruction in your new life progresses, we will meet again and I will have the great joy of welcoming you fully into our society. But regardless of whether you are newly turned or an old veteran, I must emphasize the importance of our laws.
“You cannot reveal your presence to the mortal world. Our society depends on absolute secrecy. Do not feed openly. Do not use your gifts openly. And do not kill lightly, for each of these things draws attention we do not want.
“Neither can you freely turn others into our kind. This too threatens us. Only by my leave can you do this.
“And the last of our laws is one that hardly deserves mentioning. You cannot drink a fellow kindred to the point of death. To do so is the vilest crime among us.” Michael grew curious. When Deborah had explained the three laws to him, she had glossed over this one, as if it was of least import.
“With that, I bid you all good evening. Come, Djinn, let us return to our domain.” The Prince, his thralls, and the Djinn made their way to the exit.
Deborah rejoined Michael.
“That’s all?” asked Michael.
“The introductions were the key item on the agenda tonight.” Said Deborah. “That the Prince has now retired indicates that he is unwilling to hear any petitions tonight. But that does not mean that the rest of us will not be trading favors tonight. Take advantage. Mingle, meet, greet, see what you can learn.”
“I suppose I shall.” Said Michael. He returned to Andreas and gave him a polite nod. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Michael made his way over to the one pair of kindred he had not yet spoken to, Sophia and her childe, Corrine. His interest was not on education however. Although he knew Sophia likely had much to teach him, it was the attractive “mother” Corrine that he wanted to meet.
“Evening, Lady Sophia, I am Michael Allens.” Still, a certain degree of courtesy was probably warranted.
“You are Deborah’s?”
“Yes.”
“And the diligent student, I see.” Said Sophia. She turned to her “mother.” “Do you feel it, Corrine? The allure, the desire? He does it almost on reflex. Most Daeva do. You must be cautious around them, or you will find yourself trapped in their web of seduction.”
“Excuse me?” imposed Michael.
“Your intent here is transparent, childe. Even lacking Mathias’ gift of mind-reading, it’s obvious what you want.” Again, she turned to Corrine. “Do you desire it also?”
Corrine nodded.
“Is that your true will or the one he is imposing on you with his powers? Learn the difference. Go, if you wish. There is little harm in this, but learn the lesson I have taught and learn to resist so that your will is dominant.”
“I’m Corrine.” She said as they walked away.
“Michael.” He repeated his introduction. “So what was all that about?”
“I’m sure my sire would say something to the effect of ‘Overcome the beast you are and you will be something greater than both vampire and mortal.’ She’s full of pithy little proverbs like that.”
“So she’s a tiny little philosopher. I guess all us childer get taught in different ways and learn different things.”
“And I suppose your lessons primarily involve learning to make total strangers trust and desire you.”
“Comes in handy for hunting.” Admitted Michael.
“So what am I, Michael Allens?” asked Corrine directly. “Just another conquest?”
“Yes.” Said Michael honestly. “And an experiment.”
“How so?”
“To see how much power over another Kindred I could have. Your sire, with her age and experience, obviously was not impressed. But you, you folded like a bad poker player confronted by a good bluff.”
“And what has that taught you?”
“That we are sheep among wolves and that it may be good for us childer to find common cause with one another. To trust in the benevolence of our elders seems foolish.”
“Seeking to trade favors to curry my favor. So like children pretending to be grown-ups, we play our own version of the vampire’s Danse Macabre.” She laughed. “So what do you offer, Michael?”
“A night you won’t forget.” Michael boasted boldly.
Corrine laughed again. “You offer so little.”
“You haven’t sampled the goods yet.”
She continued laughing. “Ah, but the anticipation is often greater than the having. And no decent barterer takes the first offer. You have to do better, Michael Allens.” With that, she turned and headed back to her sire.
Michael shrugged and was about to return to Deborah’s side when Ernie slinked over to him. “Is that an open offer? I would accept.”
Michael grimaced at the prospect. “No, Ernie, it is not open.” He said with as much politeness as he could muster. “I don’t go that way.”
Ernie gave an exaggerated pout. “Ah, but you don’t know what else I’d offer.” He proffered a business card. “Come and see.”
Michael took the offered card and looked at it.
The light within calls to you. We can help you answer it.
Church of Light Incarnate
7 Bullitt Ave
Roanoke, VA
Michael shrugged again, offered a polite thanks to Ernie, and then headed over to Deborah.
“She shot you down, didn’t she?” said Deb with a teasing tone.
“I guess scoring with another vamp is going to be harder.”
“Of course, it is. Mortals suspect nothing, knowing nothing of our powers or purposes. Another Kindred, on the other hand, expects a game is being played. Nothing is offered in our world without something expected in return. Everyone has an ulterior motive.”
“Including you.” Said Michael grimly.
“Of course. You know why I turned you. I’ve made that as clear as I safely can at this point.”
“So there’s no affection for me in the things you do?”
“Ah, don’t be so cynical as that, dear Michael. It does get lonely, being what we are. It does help to have someone to share even a brief part of our existence. Whatever other purposes I have for you, I am also fond of you, Michael Allens. You’ve made these last weeks more bearable.”
Michael was surprised to hear that from her. “So vampires can fall in love?”
“Oh, yes.” She said. “But we’re not there.”
“Is that where you want things to go?”
“There is nothing more perilous for our kind than that of which you speak. No, I don’t want to go there. And neither do you.”
Michael saw that as a strong hint to change the subject, but this was also something he wanted to ponder further. He brought forth the business card Ernie had given him.
“So, speaking of peril, what does this mean?”
“Ernie, or at least one part of him, runs a small religious cult out of an abandoned storefront in downtown Roanoke. Be cautious, Michael. You’ve gained his interest and that’s often not a good thing. And then Corrine, perhaps on Sophia’s orders, is playing hard to get with you, most likely to lure you in for some nefarious scheme.”
“So this is the other side of the coin? The other part of what it means to be a vampire.”
“Yes, this is what we call the Danse Macabre. The music to which each of us lives out our lives: Favors, maneuvers, schemes, plans, ambitions, desires. This is a lesson I can’t really teach you. You’ll have to learn this one on your own.”
----
There was a heaviness to the air inside the ICU at New River Valley Hospital. Upon the bed, plugged into a respirator and various monitors, was Todd. A slew of nurses and doctors tended to him and then one by one exited out of the room. Only a single male nurse and a single physician remained behind; the nurse busied himself with Todd’s charts, the doctor spoke to his companions.
“Your brother was lucky. He was found rather quickly and so we were able to stabilize him before…” said the Doctor.
“He would have died out there.” Said Shawn.
“Almost assuredly. And he still could, but he’s got a far better chance of survival now than he did laying on the ground in the woods. We’ll keep a close watch on him. You can see him, but I would recommend not staying too long. We’ll need to be in there with some regularity.”
With that, the Doctor headed down the hall towards the nurses’ station. Shawn and Rebecca both walked in.
“This is a seriously fucked up town.” Said Shawn.
“This is my fault.” Lamented Rebecca.
“Would you stop blaming yourself for everything, Becca?” said Shawn adamantly. “You did not kill Michael. You did not get my brother in this mess.”
“But you all came because of me. I came down here for answers. Michael’s been gone three weeks. The police have given up. His parents buried an empty coffin back in Charleston. But I couldn’t accept that he was gone. So I drag the two of you down here and now your brother nearly dies in a mugging. All for me and my stupidity.”
“Stop.” Barked Shawn fiercely. “This doesn’t help anybody.”
“Perhaps not. But I can’t help how I feel. I got you into this. I should have just accepted the truth and been done with it. I’m cursed. First my brother, then Michael, and now Todd. Everyone around me.”
“Now that’s a load of bullshit and you know it.”
“Plenty of evidence to the contrary.” Retorted Rebecca.
“There’s clearly no reasoning with you when you’re like this. Come on. The doctor said we shouldn’t linger. We’ll come back in the morning.” He took her by the arm and led her outside.
As they departed, the male nurse who had been standing by the whole time suddenly seemed to shimmer and change form. Where there had been a nurse, now stood a rather eccentrically dressed vampire.
“Curious.” Said Ernie to himself. “Most curious.”
Act One Chapter Eight
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