Act Three Chapter Six - Wendy Time

“Good evening.” Michael replied as Michelle took a seat next to him. Michael found it impossible to keep his eyes off of her. Her hair was different. Makeup perfect. Her azure evening gown a perfect blend of classy and sexy. Everything about her was construed to draw attention.

Michael forced his eyes away and look in his surroundings. As he suspected, nearly every eye in the room was latched upon them. Michelle laughed.

Michelle leaned in, giving Michael an ample show of the goods as she did. “Amazing what a bit of polish does. I could have any man in here right now, and probably most of the women.” she whispered in his ear.

“I should probably excuse myself.” Said Damian, getting up.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Damian?” Michelle asked with a sly smile.

“Not at all, dear Miss Michelle. It seems that you and Mr, Allens here have a previous engagement upon which it would rude for me to intrude. Good night then.” He gave a polite farewell salute and walked away.

“Curious that he is here in town in these times. The vultures are beginning to circle.” Commented Michelle as Damian walked away.

“You know him?”

“Most every vampire in Virginia of any import knows Damian Drake.”

“He seemed to know an awful lot about me.”

“You are the celebrity of the hour, my dear.”

“To you perhaps.” replied Michael boldly. “But why him?”

“I cannot say. But I’d be leery of that one. You notice the chill you get when he approaches? How something always seems a bit off about him?”

“Yes, I did notice.”

“Every vampire projects some of that very sensation to mortals. Their rational minds often dismiss it unless it is too strong to ignore. If a fellow vampire can sense it…” She let her voice trail off.

“What does it mean then?”

“Evil. Pure unadulterated evil.” She stood up and gestured for him to follow.

Together, they walked around the upper ring of the club. “If I know Damian, he’s already told you a bit about my guests. An admiral, several fleet captains, a judge, two police lieutenants, the fire marshall, and the mayor. All here.”

“And all yours.” Added Michael, discerning her point.

“Indeed they are. Some by blood. Some by money. Some by power. And still others by lust, those that would do anything to get even a single night of pleasure with this body.”

They finished their circle and found themselves by the elevator. Michael commented “With such an extensive powerbase, why the interest in me? I’m a newcomer. A nobody.”

“You underestimate your importance, Michael.” She hit the button to call the elevator.

Michael followed her into the elevator and it ascended to the upper floor. Michelle stepped out into a luxurious office. She moved to a desk and pressed a hidden button. Several shutters opened to reveal the club below.

“This is my powerbase. By rights, I should be prince now that Lazarus is dead. But there are things I lack to make that possible.”

“Things I can offer you.” Discerned Michael.

“Indeed. You are deep in Maximilian's counsel. And you have potent allies of your own.”

“She knows of Mitch and Boar also. Damn. Have I no secrets at all?” Michael thought to himself with frustration.

“So which is it that you want of me? My pet mage and werewolf? Or is it Maximilian?” No sense hiding it now, Michael reasoned. May as well play her game.

“The mage and werewolf will prove useful if circumstances degenerate. But it is Maximilian that most interests me.”

“You fear him.” Observed Michael.

“And you would be wise to do so also. The Disciples are nothing. That coterie is made up of dogs trained to bark on command. With Lazarus gone, they have no one to tell them when to bark. Calderon is an upstart, trying desperately to gain control of a coterie that has no love for him in order to justify his bid for power. That leaves only Maximilian on the council in a position to challenge me. As he was Prince once before, he knows how the game is played. His ambition has always been to succeed Lazarus and regain what he sees as rightfully his, and he will use whatever means to get it. He is my most dangerous opponent. And you are but a pawn to be discarded if it serves his purpose.”

“Am I any different to you?”

Michelle gave him a mirthful smile, “No. But I think you’ll find working for me to be much more rewarding.” She caressed her neckline, running her hand down towards her breasts to emphasize her meaning.

“So you want me to spy on Max for you? Funny. He asked me to do the same thing.”

Michelle laughed. “I would not have expected anything less. You have a choice to make then. She moved closer to him, putting her arms about his head and shoulders. “I can be very persuasive. Imagine. What all those fools down below want, you could have tonight.”

“And Sarah?”

"Surely you find me more desirable than that prepubescent gargoyle. What loyalty do you owe her?"

"Beauty, I've learned, is more than skin deep."

“Only the ugly and the unwanted believe that, and you are not so. She is, desperate and foolish, wanting to believe the lie that someone would truly desire her. She found in you a gullible pawn. She offers you nothing more than herself. I offer so much more.” She took his hand and guided it under her dress to cup her breast. “You could be great. You have so much potential. I could mold you into one worthy of standing by my side, much as Deborah wished to do when you were in Roanoke with her. I'm not so different from her and you found her to your liking. I could be her."

"But you wouldn't be."

“No, I am more. She offered you a place at the side of a Prince of a paltry hermitage city like Roanoke. Here you would rule by the side of one who would reign over two dozen vampires and nearly a million mortals. You’d have real power, real influence. And you’d have me.”

Michael looked at her. She was beautiful, but she was cold, lifeless to him. Her “offer” was all about her. There was no hunger in her for him as there was in Leigh or Sarah. No desire, no passion. Just business. And even though his hand was cupping the breast of this gorgeous creature, he was no more aroused than he would be if he was holding a baseball or a bit of fruit in that hand.

He pulled his hand out. “No.” he said firmly. “Max wants me as his pawn. You want me as your pawn. No, I think I'd rather be no one's pawn.”

Michelle's face became firm, angry. “You would turn me down? The most beautiful vampire in all the city?” She asked, her voice filling with rage. "Do not be a fool, Michael. You are a pawn, regardless of whether you wish to be or not.”

“I have a werewolf. I have a mage. And I have myself. I am a better fighter than most anyone left in this city save Solomon. I can easily carve out a niche for myself.”

“A wild boast! You are nothing. And as you are nothing, there will be no consequences if I choose to have you killed." She marched over to the desk and pressed another hidden switch. Doors on opposite sides of the window that looked down into the club opened. A dozen or so men walked into the room, all carrying knives and clubs, led by a single blonde woman in leather. She was unarmed, but from her pale skin and the way she walked, Michael could tell she was a vampire.

“Your werewolf isn't here. Neither is your mage.” said Michelle. “Do you really think you're strong enough to take on so many at once?”

“You've made a dangerous error, Michelle.” said Michael.

“What?”

“Monologuing, like a cartoon villain?” Like lightning, he drew his Beretta and opened fire, unloading the whole clip at the rightmost group. The leftside group charged, but in the small handful of seconds before they tackled him, the gun had done its work.

As the lead goons from the left tried to drag Michael to the floor, he tossed the gun just as it spurted out its last bit of lead. A sharp blow to the side of the first goon's head sent him sprawling. He grabbed the second by the throat and with a hard yank took the front of his neck off, larynx, arteries, and everything else. Blood exploded from the lethal wound.

Seeing their comrade so viciously killed caused the others to hesitate, but only for a second. It was a fatal error. Michael called upon the power of the blood within him and willed it to his muscles. He swung a powerful right hook at the lead thug. It connected with his jaw and he felt the satisfying crunch of bone as it hit.

The others backed out of reach. “No consequences?” Michael asked of Michelle. “Ten seconds. Six dead. Best you can do?”

He saw a glimmer of uncertainty pass across her eyes. He smiled, but that moment of triumph was brief as another goon leaped onto his back. Michael grabbed the man's arms and flung him over his head and into the window. The glass was much thicker than Michael expected. The thug bounced off after barely cracking it.

“Enough! He's mine.” said the vampire guard. The goons backed off. “Mistress Michelle, get out of here.” she barked.

“You're next.” threatened Michael, pointing a finger at Michelle as she backed into the elevator.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” said the blonde vampire.

Michael reached under his coat and drew out a wakisashi. “I came prepared for the likes of you.”

“Did you?” Her hands morphed into bestial claws and she lunged for him.

Michael sidestepped, at a speed faster than a human eye could follow. His opponent missed him and slammed hard into a recliner. He leaped upon her, sinking the blade deep into the back of her neck.

Unfazed by the wound, the vampire guard shot a hard right elbow back at him, striking him in the jaw and knocking him clear. Michael managed to keep hold of his blade as he staggered back. She came to her feet and turned to face him, snarling like an animal.

“Gangrel.” said Michael, identifying her clan.

“More than a match for you.” She charged him again. She did not make the same mistake as before; this time calling on the power of the blood for speed. She slammed hard into Michael, knocking him back against the wall.

He brought his knee up hard as they hit. He felt the crunch of bone and she released him. She slashed across his chest with her claws. The blow felt like fire, but Michael ignored the pain. He thrust his wakisashi into her chest, driving it in up to the hilt. He yanked it hard and to the side, cutting through flesh and spattering blood as the blade worked loose.

She slashed again and Michael dodged to the side. Her claws tore through the wood paneling like paper. Michael slashed downward with his blade, craving a huge gash across her shoulder.

The Gangrel staggered back and Michael could see the clear look of fear in her eyes. It passed quickly, replaced by rage. She snarled again like a great beast and charged. Michael waited a split second and then thrust upward. The blow struck her under the chin, sinking the blade deep into her skull.

Momentum carried them back into the wall, and then she slumped to the floor. Michael glared at the remaining handful of guards, awestruck that he'd taken down their commander. Michael grabbed the Gangrel by the hair and then tore the blade out the side of her neck. Her head came free and turned to ash within seconds.

“Who's next?” said Michael.

The guards dropped their clubs and knives and drew guns.

Discretion now became the greater part of valor. The wound the Gangrel inflicted still burned like fire and Michael did not wish to risk torpor in an enemy lair. As the guards opened fire, Michael called again upon his vampiric speed and hurled himself into the cracked glass of the window. This time, it shattered.

Michael landed in the center of the dance floor, a rain of glass fragments proceeding him. The belly dancers screamed in fright and the whole place came to its feet. Michael tore across the floor towards the exit. The maitre'de tried to stop him, but Michael simply bowled him over as he tore out the front door.

Michael dashed across the parking lot, trying to make use of his speed to put some distance between him and Michelle’s thugs. He felt a round whiz past his ear and not a half second later the report of the pistol. The guards were following him. Michael skidded behind a car and took a moment to look back at his pursuers. He drew his wakisashi and made ready to ambush them when they got close.

But then a shadowy figure stepped out from behind a car. “Halt!” came a commanding order. It was Damian’s voice. The two guards seemed transfixed on Damian’s upraised hand, never noticing as the vampire drew an Old West style revolver from under his coat and fired it into each of them. They dropped to the pavement, dead.

Michael saw his chance and dashed the rest of the way to his pickup. He leaped inside and gunned the engine to life, tearing out of that parking lot as fast as he could go.

Damian watched him leave, returning his Colt revolver to its holster. As more of Michelle’s guards came out the entrance, he stepped back into the shadows and seemed to vanish from sight.

To Chapter Seven