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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

Act One Chapter Six - Regret

Michael headed back towards Thomas Hall, but took a somewhat circuitous route. He circled back around on Main Street, partly to just take in the town as a newly-made vampire, but also to check on the location of the previous night’s events.

As he passed by the 7-11, he saw the yellow tape of a crime scene. It was in that moment that the gravity of what he had done hit him. A young woman was dead and he was the cause. The feelings of guilt that had been so familiar to him just a day or so ago now returned with a vengeance. Maybe feeding from the living was a greater price than he had said. Maybe he had spoken that in haste.

His thoughts wandered to other things as he made his way from that place back onto campus. “Gather your things.” She had said. “Give your roommate an excuse as to why you won’t see him much anymore.” She had implied. Both spoke to something Michael was only beginning to realize. Very little of his old life would remain in the new. His friends, outside of those who knew the truth, would have to be abandoned. His family, God, how could he keep away from them? His church, his pastors, all those back home, them too. Rebecca as well. The door was shut and sealed.

“Would death have not been better?” he thought grimly.

No, he determined. Whatever else might lay before him in this new life, he knew that this was a second chance. One with greater possibilities than anything he could have received as a mortal. But there were costs, prices to pay. But those could be mitigated. Deborah seemed to know how and seemed a willing teacher. She was also more than that. Willing and eager to offer the affections he’d been denied by others. For now, with all that had happened, that was more than enough reason to embrace this new life.

Michael walked in the front door to Thomas and was surprised to see Corwin, Karl, Mitch, and Boar sitting in the lounge. They were playing cards as the TV played music videos behind them.

“Hey, look who’s here!” announced Mitch.

“Hi, guys.” Said Michael somewhat meekly.

“Feeling any better?” asked Corwin.

“A bit.”

“You’ve spent the last two nights with Deborah.” Added Boar. “I would hope the sympathy fucks would cheer you up.”

“They’re helping.” Admitted Michael.

“Guess we can’t call him Churchboy anymore.” Teased Mitch. “Welcome to college life, bro.”

“So what did you guys do? Take bets to see how long I would take before I caved in?”

“Something like that.”

“I suppose you all owe me an ‘I told you so’ or two.”

“Yeah, but we’re not going to be that mean.” Said Mitch. “I take it you’ve been offered a new place to stay?”

“He does know.” Thought Michael. “Yeah,” he answered aloud. “Come to get some of my stuff.”

“Moving off campus? With this Deborah?” asked Corwin. “Isn’t that a bit hasty?”

“Maybe.” conceded Michael. “But so much has happened. I need some time to myself to sort out my life. Time away from all this. So, yeah, I’m not going to be around too much for a while.”

“There’s a reason the herd thins out during the freshman year.” Said Boar. “Some get homesick. Others get in over their heads in the party scene, too much booze, drugs, et cetera. Some can’t handle the work and the classes. Still others find their old life leaves them behind. I can’t say if you’re making the right choice or not, but you’re not the first.”

“Did you?”

“Sort of. I didn’t drop out. Mitch did. But to each his own path. Either way, buddy, if you need us, we’re here.”

“Appreciate that.”

“Let’s get your stuff together.”

----

Mitch and Boar helped Michael get his game books, computer, and most of clothes moved out of the dorm and down to Deborah’s apartment. All the while, Michael was remembering what Deb had said about Boar. Did he know what he was? Was the “time off” from school something to do with that?

“Thanks guys.” Michael said after the last item was deposited in the living room of Deb’s place.

“Not a problem. You know we’ll be around, no matter what happens.”

“Yeah, she said as much. Does it break some sort of taboo to talk about what happened between us?”

“It might.” Warned Mitch. “And I’d not want to upset her.”

“No,” said Michael remembering the bond between them. “I suppose not.”

“I suppose I’ll see you guys later then.”

“Sure.” Mitch and Boar departed.

Michael spent the next hour or so moving himself in, hanging up clothes, setting up his computer and printer. As he did so, he again began to wonder about the implications of his new life. Feeding was now covered, but life was more than food. How would he get money? Clothes would wear out, fashions become outdated. A computer would break down and need repaired or replaced. Apartment rent needed to be paid. Where would the money come from?

Michael reasoned that Deborah would cover his expenses for the time being from wherever she got her resources. But it would not hurt to be independent as soon as possible. What could he do? What skills did he have?

He turned on the computer and among the first files he saw was an uncompleted fan-fiction he’d been writing with Rebecca, set in the BattleTech universe. He wondered, could he be a published author? A reclusive one like Salinger, one that never made public appearances. That might not be a lot of money, but it could be some.

“So, Joshua, what sort of adventures can I take you on?” he said, loading the file into his word processor and he began to write.

----

Some hours later, Michael was disturbed from his work by the return of Deborah. He stepped out into the living room from the bedroom to discover she was not alone. With her was a large hairy blond man in biker leathers. He had sharp grey eyes and a full beard.

“Ah, Michael, I see you’ve brought your things.”

“Told my roommate I was going away to find myself.”

“Not far from the truth. Michael, this is Solomon. He’s one of us.”

Michael gave the large vampire a polite nod.

“So you’re the one she’s chosen.” Said Solomon, looking Michael over. “Young.”

“I was only turned last night.”

“Not what I meant. You will face things in the night that would frighten the most hardened battlefield veteran.”

“He has skills.” Said Deborah. “But not experience. None of the childer will.”

“I’ve noticed.” Said Solomon. “Andreas has already embraced his chosen one. He is no different.”

“So, you are to be another teacher?” asked Michael.

“One far less gentle than your sire.” grunted Solomon. “Are you afraid?”

“Should I be?”

“Good. Defiant. Bravado will only serve so far, but it’s a start. Come, young one, there’s work to be done.”

“Training now? Dawn is only a few short hours away.”

“No, not training. Work. Come.”

Solomon led Michael down to a dilapidated van parked along the street. The streets were empty at this late hour, just as they had been the night before. But Solomon seemed on edge.

“You killed too close to your haven.” He complained to Deborah. “Cops are everywhere tonight.”

“A few questions are no threat to us even if they do stop us.” She retorted. "Don't be paranoid."

“But given what’s in these.” Solomon pulled out a large wooden crate from the back of the van and deftly handed it to Michael. Michael found that despite its size, it was no strain to lift.

“What is in these?” he asked.

“You’ll see soon enough. Take it inside.” Solomon fetched a couple of metal boxes for himself. Michael knew what those were: ammunition boxes. Deborah herself grabbed another of the wooden crates. Together, they carried them up and inside.

They set the items down on the living room floor. With his bare hands, Solomon ripped open the two wooden crates. One carried swords. The other, guns: assault rifles, pistols, and submachine guns.

“Are we going to war?” said Michael somewhat jokingly.

“We’re already at war. Did she tell you nothing?”

“Only that I’m to help her destroy an enemy. A somewhat prudish one.”

Solomon chuckled, the first sign of any mirth in his demeanor. “That will be enough for now.” He said.

“I thought bullets couldn’t hurt Kindred.” Commented Michael, looking over the guns.

"I don't know what she's told you so far. But two things I'll share with you now. One, bullets are very good for thralls. And the enemy has many of those. Two, a kindred will fall down eventually if you pump enough lead into him. Even one as strong as Deborah's enemy.”

“I notice you don’t name him.”

“It is dangerous to share every secret with one like you, an ignorant childe that knows nothing of our ways or what can be done to him to extract those secrets.” Barked Solomon unpleasantly. “Besides, the name would mean nothing to you at this point.” He turned to Deborah. “Delivered as requested. I must return to Roanoke before the sun.”

“Thanks, Solomon. We will see you again soon.”

“Indeed.” He gave Michael a sly smile. “I look forward to it.” With that, he departed.

“So what is he? Another lover?”

"Once. Now an ally. And you did guess correctly that he will be a teacher.”

“In what, I wonder?”

“Combat. Fighting. He will hone your skills to razor edge. Solomon is a consummate warrior. He lives for battle and that makes him a very valuable ally.”

“So, an AK-47, two Beretta M92 pistols or no, those are M93 machine pistols. An old Tommy gun. Lots of firepower for just the two of us.”

“There are others.”

“So I gathered. Andreas has one like me as well, whoever he is.”

“Yes. I was given the privilege to make you as were two other vampires.”

“Privilege?”

“There are protocols to follow. Orders to be obeyed. Debts and favors to be traded. A childe is a major responsibility. A major step and not something that other vampires allow very often.”

“Is that why he’s so harsh with me?”

“No, that’s just his way. Think of it as a drill sergeant mentality. Solomon may not be kind or friendly, but he is honorable. You offer him loyalty, and it will be returned in kind. And there is no one, in all my travels, that I would rather have at my side in a tough scrape than him.”

“And he will make me a better fighter?” said Michael, picking up a katana from the sword crate.

“You will either be a better fighter or you will be dead.”

----

The nights passed and then another. Michael fed, questioned, wondered, and learned. He told Deborah of his plan to become an author, to use that as a source of income. Her response was somewhat unexpected.

“It’s begun. I knew I chose well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There is a certain spiritual distinction to each clan as well. Daeva, like us, tend to be artists, musicians, authors, those with a creative bent. And through some process even I don’t fully understand, as your grow in vampiric power, so too will those creative gifts become stronger.”

“So this is a good idea?”

“It is. In fact, are you willing to test out a little experiment of mine?”

“Should I be nervous?”

“No. Come with me. I want to see something.”

Michael followed her out into an adjourning bedroom. Inside was random storage, including the crates of weapons they’d received a few nights earlier. But also present were several musical instruments.

“Pick one. Try to play.”

Michael gave her a quizzical look. “Well, I took piano as a kid. I suppose I could try the keyboard.”

“Whichever you like. My suspicion is, with your enhanced hearing, you’ll be better able to play by ear on any instrument in here.”

“Is that your theory then?”

“It’s something about which I’m curious. I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket before the change, now I never miss a note when I sing.”

“You’ve also had 50 years of practice.” Reminded Michael.

“That’s true now, but what if I told you I noticed that change rather quickly after becoming Kindred. If you’ve never listen to him in detail, Elvis Presley is an amazing talent and his voice is not easy to match. Despite many failures before my turning, I did him perfectly one night while listening to the radio. I’ve never failed since.”

“Does it work with instruments?”

“That’s what I want to check out.”

“You’ve never tested before.”

“Never really wanted to.” Admitted Deborah. “Most music of previous generations never quite matched the mood I was looking for. It’s only been in the last few years that things have become sufficiently dark for my tastes. Now I’m interested.”

“So once goth and punk come around, you want to jump the bandwagon.”

“Pretty much.”

“Sixties war protest songs not sufficiently rebellious for your tastes?”

“They were only rebellious in terms of the norms of the time. Think about them now. They seem pretty tame.”

“One day, I suspect these songs will seem tame.”

Deborah darkened a bit at the comment. “Yeah, probably.” She said grimly.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, just a reminder of something you’ll learn…eventually. Now try to play.”

The only tune Michael could conjure in his head was the opening piano to the Christian band The Choir’s song Fade Into You, the song Pastor Ian had been playing when he picked Michael up from the bus station. Michael was surprised at the memory. He tapped out a few keys, listening for the tones he heard in his mind. After only a few guesses, he found them and began to play the first five notes.

“I don’t recognize that song.”

“You wouldn’t. It’s not sufficiently dark enough for your tastes.” He continued playing. “I think your theory has some validity. I wouldn’t want to perform like this, but I am figuring out the notes to a song I’ve heard dozens of times, but never played before.”

“Perhaps, this could be something else you could work on.”

“Learn to fight, write fiction, learn to play.” Rattled off Michael. “My life as kindred is starting to be far more work than being a mortal college student was.”

“But infinitely more fun. Come, it is time to hunt.”

----

Michael had not forgotten Kris, so he decided to seek her out for his “seconds” after he and Deborah parted ways to hunt. He decided to put himself to the test to seek her out, seeing if he could track her in the same way that Deborah claimed she could him when he was still mortal.

His first destination was her dorm building, Slusher Hall. He found a familiar scent, which he presumed was hers, and tried to follow it, but found he lost it after moving away more than a few hundred yards. He kept at this for at least an hour, with little luck.

“Still have much to learn.” He said to himself, in Deborah’s voice. It was frustrating. Giving up, he decided to head back towards town and see what the bars had to offer.

As he made his way the half-mile or so towards town, he sniffed the air periodically, trying to see if he could pick up Kris’ scent. But his enhanced senses continued to baffle him and he gave up trying after a few minutes.

“Yo, Michael!” came a call. A familiar beat-up Camaro pulled up beside him as he crossed the road near the War Memorial Gym. It was Mitch.

Michael walked over and leaned down. “So, another night of deliveries?”

“Man, you should have seen the girls I just delivered a pizza to. Bet you’d find them quite tasty.”

“I thought we weren’t going to mention that openly.”

Mitch shrugged. “It’s only the two of us right now.”

“So you knew what this was all about?”

“I knew some. Deborah doesn't tell us everything.”

"Did you know you were on the short list?"

Mitch shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. What matters is she's chosen you. Boar and I will take care of you, watch over you, protect you if need be."

"Appreciate that."

"So, what's it like?"

"Still finding my way, but I can tell you my life now is a whole hell of a lot better than it was.”

“Figured it would be, especially after what Rebecca did to you.”

“So who told her about the break-up? You?”

Mitch nodded. “That’s what she wanted. Report anything of importance on you.”

“And you do all that she wants?”

“It’s not as bad a deal as it sounds.”

“Hey, Michael!” came an excited voice. Much to his satisfaction, he saw Kris coming down the path towards him from town.

“Dinner?” teased Mitch. Michael found the joke in poor taste and frowned. Mitch decided that was his cue. “I’ll see you later.” He drove off.

Michael stood by waiting as Kris walked over. “Linger in your prey’s habitat long enough, and it will eventually come to you.” He thought to himself, repeating a simple rule of hunting in the silence of his mind. “Hey, Kris, would you believe I was looking for you?”

Kris blushed for a moment. “I had thought my little performance the other night had scared you off.”

“No. Are you feeling any better?”

“Much.” She said confidently.

“So, you have some time tonight?”

“I’m kinda busy. Got a project due in two days that I really need to work on.”

“And you’re coming back from downtown for what reason?” needled Michael in a teasing tone.

“Coming back from the library actually.”

Michael did a quick calculation and realized that they were in the same direction. He frowned at making such a bone-headed mistake, but got over it quickly. “Then perhaps I can persuade you to take a short break. A little snack over at the Grill perhaps? My treat.”

“Alright, but I can’t wait too long.”

“It won’t be.”

He escorted her over to the Hokie Grill, the on-campus snack shop in nearby Owens Hall. It was a short walk. Michael had a few bucks in his back pocket and used it to buy them a couple of hot dogs and drinks. Before he returned to the table, he decided to try something.

At the condiment stand, out of sight of both the clerk and of Kris, he gave his wrist a sharp bite to get the blood flowing. Remembering what Deborah had told him about those who fed from him, he let the blood drip into her cup. He gave the straw a swirl to mask the blood, was pleased to see the wound close before his very eyes, and then turned back towards the table.

“I could probably use this.” Admitted Kris, taking her food and drink off the tray.

“Glad I could help.” Said Michael. He watched as she drank deeply from her cup, wondering if she would notice.

She looked at Michael for a minute and then laughed. “What?” he asked, somewhat nervously. Had she noticed something odd?

“I must have been pretty drunk the other night.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Michael.

“No, don’t misunderstand. It’s not you.” She said nervously. “I’m not usually so forward as I was. Not usually so bold.”

“And why not?”

“Look at me. I don’t dress sexy. I’m not pretty. Nothing about me makes guys interested.”

“Bullshit.” Said Michael. “You’ve just told yourself those things so often you’ve begun to believe them.”

Kris gave a timid smile, apparently a bit startled by his boldness. “You’re a surprising person, Michael Allens. Not at all like what I thought when I saw you sitting in the back at student orientation a couple months ago.”

“What did you think then?”

“Timid little computer nerd, afraid to be away from Mom’s basement. Never been around a girl.”

“The stereotype.”

“You did seem to fit it.”

“And you believe you do also. You’re a junior. Been in the CS program for two years now. You should know by now that not all of us fit that old joke.”

“I know, but I’ve met enough that have. Guys afraid of their own shadow. And when you’re one of the few women in the program, you tend to have to deal with them a lot.”

“And is that why you believe you have nothing to interest us? Because you’ve met so few able to express their appreciation? Trust me, even the nerdiest of us have noticed you, Kris. I’m just the only one bold enough to pursue it.”

“Is that a proposition?”

“I told you I was looking for you. I’m not one to let opportunity pass me by. As you’ve already pointed out, we tend not to get very many.”

Kris looked at him, blushing a bit. “There was a part of me that was a bit embarrassed to be a junior crushing on a freshman. Not anymore.”

“So,” said Michael, looking into her eyes. “The next question is how long of a study break do you want to take?”

“Long enough.” She admitted.

----

Rather than return to Slusher, where Kris admitted her roommate would probably be home, the two headed back towards downtown. Back towards Michael’s apartment with Deborah. He hoped that Deborah had simply accosted someone on the street as she typically did and that the apartment would be empty.

It seemed so as he walked up the stairs and opened the door.

“I didn’t think freshmen could live off campus.” Said Kris as they walked inside.

“We can’t. But I’ve withdrawn from the university for a while. Trying to get my head together.”

“Oh, I wondered why I hadn’t seen you around much recently.” Kris admitted.

“You really are crushing on me,” said Michael with a confident smile, “if you’ve noticed my absence among all the other students in the program.”

Kris blushed again. She walked over to the keyboard. “Do you play?”

“Some.”

She sat down on the sofa behind the keyboard. She pressed a few keys. “I can’t play a note on anything.”

“I think you’ll find your problem here is that you haven’t turned it on yet.”

She looked up at him. With a quick motion, she grabbed a pillow off the sofa and tossed it at him. “Smart ass. I know it’s not turned on.”

Michael moved onto the sofa next to her. “Yes, but I think I know some things that are.”

She watched him with nervous anticipation as he moved closer. “There’s probably something you should know…” she began to say.

“Nothing I hadn’t already figured out.” He put a finger to her lips to silence her further. “No more excuses. No more commentary. Just enjoy.”

As he began to undress her in earnest, Michael had a nagging thought at the back of his mind. Kris was utterly sincere. She was clearly attracted to him. Clearly nervous at giving her virginity to him. And yet, she was food to him. Fun food. Amusing food. Attractive food, but food none the less.

She was far more beautiful than she gave herself credit. Her skin was flawless, smooth and soft to the touch. Unlike Deborah, she wore nor needed any tattoos or other decoration. Her breasts full and pert, clearly showing her arousal. The hair between her legs was full and unshaven; in fact, Michael noticed she had done little in terms of the normal feminine grooming. Her armpits and legs were likewise unshaved. He found her “raw” state strangely attractive.

As he ran his hands across her form, relishing her response, Michael again thought about the disparity of their relationship, and then another thought imposed. Had he not been so blinded by Rebecca, would he ever have noticed her? Could it have been that he and Kris gotten together as a normal couple, now something impossible because of his vampiric state?

Kris seemed to notice his distraction. “Is something wrong?” she said nervously. “I know I’m not a classic beauty. I’m not a beauty at all.”

“What did I tell you about all the things you’ve told yourself?” replied Michael. “I think you’re gorgeous.” He slid his hand between her legs and began to play.

After a few minutes of that, which the look on her face showed her delight at his touch, he paused and asked “Are you ready for me?”

She nodded and Michael entered her. She cried out in surprise.

“Not quite what I expected.” She admitted a second later.

“Hush now. No commentary, remember?” teased Michael, kissing her and resuming his thrusting.

“Just enjoy.” She repeated, wrapping her arms around him and doing just that.

----

They made love for a couple of hours. Once Kris gained a degree of confidence, he began to mix things up, trying a few things he and Deborah had not yet done. Kris enjoyed every minute, every touch, every thrust, and every indication of her pleasure both pleased and disturbed Michael at the same time.

He fed from her periodically. A bite here, a bite there, never taking much at any one time. Cautious to cause her no harm, but also to not leave her so light headed and weak that she could not function as he had before.

But even as his lusts and his hungers were satisfied, Michael could not shake some of those nagging regrets. Here was someone who could have been a real girlfriend to him, a real lover, and that door was closed to him.

“I should probably be going.” Kris admitted as they relaxed after another climax. “I think you could go for a few more hours, but I really don’t have the time.”

“Probably not.” Lied Michael. He felt no more tired than he had when they started. “But you’re right. Our being together is not getting your project done.”

Kris stood up and began to get dressed. “It’s not going to be easy to focus after all this.”

“I think you’ll manage.” Said Michael confidently. “I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She said, finishing getting her clothes back on. “I’ve been a little nervous being in this part of town. That 7-11 where the girl got killed is just down the street.”

“Yeah, that was a bit scary. But no one will hurt you with me by your side.” He gathered up his own clothes and began to dress.

“How gallant.”

----

Deborah awaited him as he walked back from Slusher Hall. She was standing outside the apartment building, dressed to go on the hunt.

“So your first blood doll. You do adapt quickly.”

“Blood doll?”

“A human that we keep around solely to feed upon. They come in handy from time to time. Plus, depending on who they are, they can be quite fun. I take it this Kris is one of those.”

“You might say that.” Said Michael with a sly grin.

“I would be cautious however. Close personal contact with a given human can be dangerous. She will soon note odd things about your behavior. Like the fact that you never come out during the daylight. That you rarely eat.”

“I’m going to guess those things can be mitigated by making her a thrall.”

“Indeed they can be. Once a mortal is enslaved to us, they are safe to reveal the truth. Am I to presume that you are one step ahead of me on this?”

“She has taken my blood once now.”

“So twice more to be safe. Good, you really do learn fast. The Prince will be pleased with you.”

“At least someone will. Your friend Solomon wasn’t.”

Deborah gave him an odd look and then smiled. “You just need to get used to him.”

“So who’s the Prince?”

“The leader of all vampires in this territory. His name is Mathias and he lives up in Roanoke. You will meet him soon enough.” She took Michael’s arm and pressed against him. “I do hope you’ve not completely lost the mood tonight. I want you tonight, but there is something we must do. Something that has waited perhaps a little too long.”

“And that is?”

“Sooner or later, someone from your home town will come looking for you. A mother, a sibling, an old friend. We must do what we can to avoid this. You must become dead to the mortal world.”

“Is that necessary? Isn’t there an alternative?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Couldn’t I just thrall my family and tell them the truth?”

“How would you pull it off? You would have to convince them, without raising their suspicions, to come down here and stay for several days, seeing you only at night, while you completed the three feedings. You’d never manage it.”

“I could go to them.”

“Again, how? You have no means of transportation to your home that goes only by night. And even if you could get there, you’re on enemy territory.”

“Enemy territory? Your enemy or just in general?”

“Generally. I have no idea who rules your hometown, Michael, but someone does. Vampire, mage, werewolf, and whoever it is will not want you trespassing.”

Michael looked at her gravely. “So I have no choice.” He said regretfully.

“You are already well past the point of no return.” Said Deborah. “This is for your own good and ours.”

“What then must we do?”

“There’s a number of things that could work. But our options tonight may be somewhat limited. You don’t own a car so having you dead in an accident with your body incinerated is a stretch. And finding a John Doe to take your corpse’s place in a town this small is tricky to begin with.”

“So how can we make me dead without a body?”

“The river has a number of deep pools. A body could get lost in any one of them.” Suggested Deborah.

“So I drowned. But how and why would I be down by the water this late in the year? A little cold in November to be swimming.”

Deborah snapped her fingers. “I think I have it. Something plausible. Something you actually considered after Rebecca left you.”

“Suicide?”

“Indeed. You were despondent after she left you. You dropped out of school, moved off-campus to ‘find yourself,’ but it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t find a reason to keep living. So you slip a suicide note to someone you knew, perhaps your old roommate, telling him that you’re going to end it all down at the river. But he gets the note late, perhaps you’ve tucked it under the door while he’s in class. He rushes to save you. The police come and make a well-orchestrated effort to find you, but to no avail. You are simply gone.”

Michael had to admit the idea had merit. Corwin could certainly be the catalyst to trigger everything. All he would need to do was write a convincing suicide note and that would not be hard, given all he’d been through.

“Of course,” she continued. “the police will have to inform your family at home. There will be a funeral and flowers. Your life with them is over. It was the moment you asked to be turned. Now we make it official.”

Michael nodded. “What do I need to do?” Deborah began to detail instructions, but Michael barely heard her. He had one thought, and only one thought. “A year ago, Rebecca buried her younger brother. Now she buries me. Break-up or not, this will devastate her. Does she deserve it?”

Michael had no answer for that question.

Act One Chapter Seven