The rain was starting to get heavy as Hurricane Bertha bore down on the
Tidewater. Michael stood by the door, looking out over the downpour on the
streets.
“So far, it's just the rain. Wait until the wind comes.” said Virgil,
watching from behind.
“You've been through this before?”
“A few times. Grew up in Florida
“Tough luck for them.” said Michael. “And for us. Won't be much
business tonight.”
“Hunting is slim tonight. Just that blonde hugging the bar.”
“I'm surprised she's still here.” said Michael, glancing over towards
the lone figure at the bar. The best word Michael could use was voluptuous. He
couldn't see her face from behind, but her curves were pronounced and obvious.
The front doors opened and drew Michael's attention away. A slight
scent of a pine forest after a soft rain wafted in before the figure in the
door. “Pastor Ian. Welcome to Nightstyles.”
Pastor Ian McCallister had been Michael Allens' youth pastor in his
mortal life. Pastor Ian had been taken by the dark and sinister forces of Arcadia
“Hello, Michael.” The greeting was cold.
“Virgil, get back to work.” said Michael. “See if the pretty lady at
the bar needs anything else.”
“Gotcha, boss.” replied Virgil. He walked away.
Michael gestured to an empty table. Ian walked over and took a seat. “I
would have chosen a better night, but the storm came in a little early.”
“Caught us all a bit early.” A bit warmer, but the coldness quickly
returned to his voice. “I'll cut to the chase, Michael. I know what you are.”
“That'll make things easier. Not as much to explain.”
“Why did you ask me here?”
“A spiritual dilemma, as it were. Something I could use your advice on,
as I once did.”
“One of the damned looking for advice on matters of faith and spirit?
That's rich.”
“A slave seeking to be free in a world that has nothing left for him?
That's rich too.” retorted Michael. Ian's eyes flashed with anger. “You didn't
ask to be taken away to Arcadia
Ian nodded. “I'm sorry. I presumed...”
“...that the monster was greater than the man. While that may be so
with some of my kind, I am so lost as that yet. I try to do what is right. I do
not kill those from whom I feed. I work towards a just society for my people. I
try to be open-minded about the world. And I seek to make amends of those I've
wronged. Which leads me to my problem.”
“Tell me then what's bothering you, Michael.”
“Almost four years ago now, I let the monster get the better of me...”
Michael went on to explain the events that led to his exile from Blacksburg:
the break-up with Rebecca, the trap he laid for her, her embrace to darkness,
the murder of Shawn, and how getting caught by the Prince led to Deborah's
imprisonment. “...I have carried the regrets of how my impulsiveness hurt so
many with me to this day. The guilt gnaws at me night and day. That's the
background.”
“What a terrible thing you've done, Michael.” said Ian. “But I presume
that now some chance has emerged for you to set things right.”
“I thought there might be, but some news has reached me of a very
disturbing nature. There are forces at work now, people on the move who are
seeking to destroy me. It is entirely possible that Rebecca has sent them.”
“Revenge?”
“Possibly. I...” Michael paused to collect his thoughts further. “I came
here four years ago to find the strength to go back. To return to those I'd
left behind, and to make amends for my mistakes. I was willing to risk
everything to see Deborah freed and me reunited with Rebecca. This club, my
wealth, my power and prestige among the vampire community, all of it I would
have thrown away to make up for that monstrous act.”
“So you wanted to play the hero?”
“I...” Michael paused again. He hadn't thought of it that way, but he
realized Ian was right. In retrospect, it wasn't so different from his mortal
days. Rushing in to “rescue” Rebecca from the grief and misery of her brother's
suicide. It was all a vague distant memory now, but the pattern, in many ways,
was the same. Be the hero, win the girl, live happily ever after. Now it all
looked painfully naïve and idealistic.
“Yeah.” conceded Michael meekly. “Something like that.”
“It didn't work before.”
“No, it didn't.” Michael admitted. “Being the hero didn't work. But
being the villain was worse by a long shot. What can I do to show her how sorry
I am?”
“It may be too late for that.” admitted Ian. “If she's truly behind
these 'forces,' as you call them, that are coming to kill you.”
“Should I just play the martyr? Let them succeed?”
“And what would that accomplish? Michael, I came in here thinking you a
monster and in many ways I was right. But I also see within the monster is the
same wounded soul I always knew, wounded in many ways worse than ever before.
You've done terrible things, but you are haunted by them. But you're not
seeking punishment for them. You're not seeking self-destruction. What you
want...desperately...is forgiveness.”
“And it's the one thing I can't have.”
“Are you sure? A question comes to my mind. Forgiveness from whom? From
God? I wish I had answers there, but our Christian faith says nothing towards
the redemption of monsters. Can the devil be forgiven? Are we as these living
myths even a form of devil or something else entirely? I don't know, but if God
is anything like what we've been taught, his grace may extend even to the likes
of us.”
“And if that's not enough for me?”
“I'm not finished.” said Ian. “Forgiveness from whom? From Rebecca?
Well, the only way you'll find the answer to that is to confront her.”
“Which means going back after all.”
“Yes, it may well mean that. But there's also a third answer to that
question. Forgiveness from whom? How about yourself? That may be the easiest to
answer.”
“Is it?”
“That's for you to decide. Playing the hero probably won't work.
Playing the martyr won't either, but is there some other way you can offer
penance that will allow you to forgive yourself? You may have already made a
good start on that: sparing those you feed from, using your influence to make
vampire society more just. I don't know if you can make what you are “good,”
but there might be a way to be the “lesser evil” as it were. In many ways,
Michael, these are questions only you can answer. Something to think about.”
Michael nodded. “Thanks. Maybe that's what I needed to hear, a different
perspective on all this. I may not have any answers yet, but at least I've got
a new way to look at things.”
“Good. I'm glad I could help.” said Ian. “The more I think about it the
more I realize that you're living a nightmare almost as bad as mine. Almost all
that we once were is gone. Perhaps the only thing left is the choice each day
to choose good or ill. Maybe that's all we ever had.” Ian looked at the
troubling weather outside. “I should probably be going.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” Michael shook Ian's hand and saw him out.
Michael then headed over to the bar. “Virgil, I think we can close down
early. I wouldn't worry about cleaning things up too much. We'll deal with it
after the storm has ended.”
“Roger that!” said Virgil.
Michael then turned to the young blonde woman who was still sitting at
the bar. “Sorry, but the weather outside is getting too rough for us to stay
open. This isn't usually how things are here. It's a much more lively place
most nights.”
“I'm sure.” she said, turning to face Michael. She was pretty, probably
around 20-21 years of age. Her T-shirt, labeled with the provocative phrase
“Wanna make out?” was a tight fit and accentuated the curves Michael had
noticed from behind. She was quite buxom to boot.
But something strange came over Michael in that moment. Normally, this
adorable blonde would stoke the fires of his lust. That every inch of her
seemed to advertise sexual availability and even eagerness would only have
added fuel to that fire. But with his mind still wrestling with the full
metaphysical implications of his life's decisions, both past and present,
Michael found himself not really in the mood.
“I was to meet a friend here
tonight,” she continued. “but I guess they bailed with the weather.”
“Yeah,” replied Michael, continuing the conversation. “Hurricane Bertha
is to make landfall soon. Best to get back home before things get any worse.”
“I'm staying at the Ocean Sands.” the girl said. Her tone was inviting,
her intent clear.
It was the same hotel where Michael kept his own private suite, the
same he'd used to seduce Donna into his harem. Given the worsening conditions
outside, Michael had already made up his mind to seek sanctuary there himself.
Although there was a rather large “emergency” haven in the basement of
Nightstyles, Michael was never comfortable using it.
“I keep a suite there myself.” Michael admitted. “I'll probably make
use of it to wait out this storm. Do you mind if I walk with you?”
She smiled at him. “Not at all. I'm Julia, by the way.”
“My name's Michael. Let me get my coat.”
Michael dashed up to the office and fetched his rain coat. He was back
downstairs quickly to find Julia pulling out her own poncho from a knapsack she
had kept at her feet. The ugly rain gear was unattractive but at least
functional. Michael held the door for her and then stepped outside into the
torrent.
As it had been an hour earlier when Ian arrived, the storm was only
rain at this point, no strong wind as yet, but what a rain. “Buckets” was an
understatement and by the time they'd traversed the mere two blocks to the
hotel, they were good and truly soaked to the bone, rain gear or no.
Julia stood in the hotel lobby shivering and wet. Michael shook out his
coat; his vampire metabolism prevented him from getting cold in these
circumstances.
“You'll want to get out of those wet things or you'll catch cold.” he
said sincerely.
“You could help me with that.” Julia teased seductively.
Michael frowned almost imperceptibly. His mood had not changed. “That
wasn't quite what I had in mind.” Michael admitted.
“Come on.” said Julia. “That storm is due to hit landfall any time now
and when it does, we'll be stuck here for days. We can either do that alone or
have some harmless fun together.”
Julia had just inadvertently made a very good argument against her goal
of seducing him. It would not do at all for Michael to be stuck alone with a
mortal once the sun came up, storm or no storm.
“We just met.” retorted Michael. Not the most convincing of arguments,
but he obviously couldn’t tell her the truth.
“You're full of excuses, aren't you, Michael? Come on. I know you're
interested.” She reached up and gave her boobs a playful squeeze, drawing his
attention to them.
“I'm sorry. It's not that you're not cute. You are. It's just that I've
got a lot on my mind.”
“Then maybe what you need right now is something to take your mind off
all that. Look outside, Michael. Is there anything you're going to be able to
do about your problems right now?”
She had a point. “Alright, I concede. You win.”
“Good. Now let's get up to your suite so we can cuddle up and get warm.
I'm freezing.”
“There's a whirlpool tub in it that'll do a great job of warming the
two of us up. Sound good?”
“Very much so.”
Michael led her to the elevator. He punched in his keycard for the
penthouse level and the elevator ascended.
When he opened up the room, Julia gasped in delight. It was, not
unexpectedly, a very well appointed room. In the foreroom was a sofa, desk, and
TV. Through an open threshold was the bedroom, with a king-size bed and the
aforementioned whirlpool tub. Off to the side was a bathroom and beyond was a
balcony that looked out over the beach. Michael had modified the suite for
vampire life. The balcony could be sealed off from sunlight by a set of metal
shutters. He also kept a stock of adult novelties about for his guests
enjoyment: massage oils, toys, even some chains and handcuffs for light bondage
play.
It was the ultimate bachelor pad, far more so than even his beach house
in Hampton
Michael doffed his rain coat and tossed it onto the sofa. He headed
into the bedroom and started the tub to warm the water. Julia clutched her
knapsack and asked if she could use the bathroom to “freshen up.”
That struck Michael as odd. After her eagerness downstairs towards what
was obviously a sexual end, it seemed strange to him that she didn't jump his
bones immediately after entering. Why a delay now?
“What? After all that downstairs, you're afraid to take your clothes
off in front of me?” he said teasingly.
“I have to pee.” she admitted.
“Oh,” replied Michael, somewhat embarrassed at his suspicions. Without
waiting for anything further from him, she darted into the bathroom. After she went inside, he peeled off his wet
clothes and got into the warm water. He then waited with patience for Julia to finish.
After a minute or so, Julia came back out. She was not naked, but had
instead changed into a white tank top and a pair of bikini bottoms. She walked
out with her arms behind her back and her head down, as if embarrassed by even
that much immodesty.
“Really?” said Michael in disbelief. “Now you’re just fucking with me…”
“Can’t I have a little fun torturing you?” She said with a playful
grin. But there was definitely something off. Michael was sure of it.
“You’re going to make me change my mind.” Said Michael, now impatient.
“Please don’t.” She pleaded. With his attention drawn to her odd behavior,
Michael almost missed the item in her hand as she brought her arms around to
the front of her body. It was a modified flare gun, redesigned to fire a wooden
stake.
Julia discharged the weapon just as Michael began to move. The power of
the blood poured into his muscles, giving him speed the likes of which no
mortal could match. The stake struck the side of the pool and ricocheted off
harmlessly. Michael tackled Julia and knocked her back against the wall of the
suite.
A foul odor filled the air and Michael realized she had soiled herself
in fright. He glared into her eyes and saw abject terror there. Her plan had
relied entirely on surprise and now that it had failed, she was at his mercy.
“A hunter!” remarked Michael. “Son of a bitch!” he added in anger. She
struggled against his grip without success. He grabbed her by the wrists and
dragged her over to a cabinet in the wall of the bedroom. He opened the cabinet
and fetched a pair of manacles, the sort he would use for bondage play with his
lovers. He knew they were sturdy enough to bind most mortals effectively, so he
clamped them on Julia's wrists and left her chained to the wall.
“Alright, what's your story?” Michael demanded. She spat in his face in
response.
“Vampire!” she snarled, trying to appear more angry than frightened.
Michael was not fooled.
'You didn't figure that out on your own. Someone told you about me.
Who?”
She gave no answer. Michael's sense of frustration grew. He wanted to know
who had sent her after him. Was it truly who he suspected? Still, at the same
time, Pastor Ian’s words echoed in his mind. To choose good or ill. To be someone
he could forgive for his past mistakes. Therefore, he didn't want to hurt Julia.
She was clearly in way over her head; nothing more than naïve pawn in The
Djinn’s game. It felt unjust to punish a pawn for the sins of those who'd sent
her on this potentially suicidal mission.
All that and she was rather cute.
The smell of her soiled underwear came to his attention again. Michael
frowned and yanked the ruined panties off of her. He tossed the foul-smelling underwear
onto the balcony into the rain and then turned back to her. Now exposed from
the waist down, Julia's faux anger melted into gibbering fear.
In that moment, Michael found himself torn. By all appearances, it
looked as though he was about to rape his helpless prisoner. That was clearly
her fear, or at least one of the many that were probably running through
Julia’s head at that moment. What she didn’t know was the thought of doing that
to her was vulgar to Michael. A far cry from the noble being he told Pastor Ian
he was seeking to be.
Regardless, it seemed cruel to take advantage of that fear, but she
still had something Michael needed: a name. “I want my answers. Who sent you to
find me?” he insisted.
Fearful or no, she wasn't any more willing to surrender that to him
than before. He admired her courage, even as it frustrated him. He would try
another tact, one perhaps more intimidating.
He leaped onto her and sank his fangs into her throat. She called out
in terror as Michael drank deep. He didn't drink her to death, but he did take
more than he normally did. That would weaken her and, he hoped, would make her
more agreeable. Also did one other thing, he raked his fangs as he withdrew.
Normally, vampire saliva would regenerate the bite wound almost immediately,
but by widening the wound it took a few extra seconds. Time enough for some
blood to pour forth from the wound and down Julia's body.
Upon seeing the stream of red as it ran down her chest, across her
breasts, and soaking into the fabric of her tank top, Julia gave into utter
panic. She tore at the manacles on her wrists. Her breathing became rapid and
shallow. After a couple seconds, her eyes rolled back into her head and she
passed out from terror.
“Damn.” Muttered Michael. “That didn’t work very well.”
---
Michael spent the rest of that night listening to the rain and
contemplating the problem at hand. The storm was growing worse and Michael
reasoned that the hurricane had come ashore earlier than anticipated. He was
trapped here. That would have been bad enough as a potential breech of the
Masquerade, but it was far worse with his companion being a hunter.
Still, he had the upper hand. She was clearly no match for Michael in
open combat and too physically weakened by blood loss to work free of her
bondage while he slept. She was no longer a threat in any way.
But there were two questions that needed answered. One was the one he’d
already asked. Who told her about him? How did she know to find him?
Intimidation had backfired. Julia was now too terrified and too vulnerable to
be of any use.
The second question was what ultimately to do with her. He could kill
her, but that seemed cruel. But neither could he let her go. Hunters were often
fanatical and indiscriminate killers. She’d just come back for him or for
someone else.
The solution to both dilemmas was obvious: the thrall-bond. She would
have to taste his vampire blood three times over three separate nights. With
that, she’d surrender anything he asked.
Nor would she be a threat to anyone.
Michael stood up and walked over to her. Her fainting turned to sleep;
she moaned when Michael took her arm to move her. He released her from the shackles
and dragged her over to the whirlpool. There, he undressed her and put her in
the water. Then he cleaned up the mess that she’d become, covered in shit,
piss, and blood from their first “encounter.”
Her eyes fluttered open at times, but it was clear was barely aware of
what he was doing. Michael worried at times he’d gone too far, that he’d taken
too much and truly put her life in danger. But he’d been a vampire long enough
to know where that boundary lay and he reassured himself that her delirium
would fade as her body healed itself.
After he washed and dried her, he bit into his wrist. He dripped a few
drops of his blood into her mouth before the wound closed again. He rummaged
through her pack and found a change of clothes for her. Wasn’t much, just
another tank top and panties, but it was enough to give her back some dignity.
Finally, he brought her back to the chains and bound her again. Then he
let her be. Michael spent the rest of the night watching TV and listening to
the rain.
When dawn came, Michael closed the metal shutters and fell asleep. He
awoke the next night promptly at dusk to find Julia right where he'd left her,
still bound to the wall. She was now awake, still enfeebled somewhat but much
more lively than when Michael had surrendered to the dawn. The abject terror
and panic that had driven her unconscious was gone, but there was still fear in
her eyes.
“I could taste your blood on my mouth when I woke. You're going to make
me one of you, aren’t you?”
Michael hadn’t considered that option, but he had to admit that it
sounded intriguing. A hunter turned into a kindred. She probably had some
combat skills, and might prove very useful against The Djinn and his minions.
And there was the fact that, as primogen, he'd been given leave by Maximilian
to embrace one mortal of his choosing as an apprentice. He had not taken
advantage of that as yet.
“I might.” Michael answered. It was the truth. The idea continued to
intrigue him, but he also felt it wise to continue to keep her off-balance and
uncertain. “For now, you'll note I cleaned you up a bit. No more shit. No more
blood. Nice and clean.”
She looked over herself and discovered that he spoke the truth. “You
changed my clothes.”
“Well, why you are certainly quite fine to look at, naked or not, it
seemed better to give you back some dignity.”
“Why bother?”
Michael let that question hang. He didn’t want her to think he was too
nice. “I'd imagine you're hungry. With the storm raging outside, the hotel
services are probably limited, but I think we can get some room service up
here. Would you like something?”
She gave him no answer. Her face was full of bafflement, but Michael
ignored it. He went to the phone and called down. Michael's guess was right. A
lot of the staff was absent and services were limited. But he was able to order
a simple meal to be brought up.
A somewhat harried looking bellhop brought up a tray of food a few minutes
later. Michael met the man in the hallway and offered him a generous tip. He
headed back down the elevator while Michael prepped the food by placing a few more
drops of his blood about it. He then went back into the room and discovered
Julia had been yelling and screaming to get the bellhop's attention.
“Futile effort.” Michael told her. “The walls are soundproof. Now, I've
brought you some food.”
Michael unshackled her from the wall and was able to lead her over to
the tray when she gave him a hard shove. Unbalanced, Michael fell over and
Julia bolted for the door.
He did not bother at first to chase her as he knew she could not get
far. Her first obstacle was the elevator. It was coded to accept his keycard
and would not open without it. She then made for the stairs, which were not as
securely locked for the sake of fire safety.
Michael followed at a distance and let her get ahead a few flights
before he willed the blood to his muscles for speed. With his vampiric power,
he covered the distance between them in less than a second. He grabbed her by
the hair and yanked her back with a yelp.
Michael dragged her back upstairs, impressed by her tenacious spirit. He
continued to admire Julia's courage and strength. Once he got her in the room,
he did not bind her again, but merely tossed her roughly on the bed.
“I'm curious about where you thought you'd go.” He opened the metal
shutters to reveal the storm outside. “Hurricane Bertha is here with all her
might. The police and other emergency services are too preoccupied with all
that to help you. The hotel staff is mine and will obey me. There is no escape
from here. You may as well make the best of it.”
“If I tell you what you want, you'll just kill me.”
“You know, you're the second person in the last 24 hours to assume
that's all there is to me. He learned otherwise after a long conversation that
there’s a lot more to me than that. For one thing, I don't like to kill. I
don’t do it unless I have to.”
“But you have killed before. I know you have. How many?” she asked. She
looked at the food hungrily, but made no move towards it. Michael nodded
permission and she dove in.
“By feeding or in battle?”
“Why would that matter?” she replied between bites of food.
“A soldier on a battlefield kills, but no one but the most fanatical of
pacifists would call that murder. My people are frequently at war with one
another and other monsters that prowl in the dark.”
“How many kills?” she demanded again.
“Thirty two. Six vampires. Twenty six mortals. Mostly in combat.”
“But not all, so even by your own standards you are still a
cold-blooded murderer.” She seemed satisfied by that revelation. “You're a
mindless killer who takes life without a second thought and you're fooling
yourself if you believe otherwise.”
Michael walked over to the balcony window and looked outside at the
storm. His back was to her, but he answered. “No, I’m not. Not normally. I put
great thought into each decision to kill. Is it warranted? Do they deserve it?”
He turned to face her. “Imagine yourself with a gun in an alley witnessing a
child being raped? What would you do to her rapist? Would you let it continue
or would you stop him? A corrupt judge who sent hundreds to prison on false
charges? What would you do to him if you had the chance? Foreign mercenaries
who will do the bidding without question of whoever pays them? What of them? It
is people like these who make up the list of my kills and many others like
them.”
“So it's an act of justice to you. Vigilantism, nothing more.”
“Don't play the hypocrite with me. You've long since learned that some
justice only comes from the barrel of a gun. You wouldn't have tried to murder
me last night if you didn't.”
“I doubt all of your kills are justified.”
“No.” Michael conceded. “There are a few exceptions. Kills made when I
was first turned, before I understood the gravity of what I'd become. Kills
that I made out of spite. Would it comfort you to know that those are the faces
that haunt my dreams each day?”
“Serves you right.”
“Indeed it does.” admitted Michael. A look of astonishment crossed her
face. “You really don't believe that I can regret my mistakes. Hell, for all I
know the one who sent you to me was one of them.”
It was an honest admission and Michael wasn’t sure if it would soften
Julia enough for her to confess how she came to know of him. She finished
eating and gave him a hard look.
“So what’s your count?” Michael threw her question back at her. She
hardened further. Michael let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, as you said yesterday,
we’re stuck here until this storm abates. We can either glare at each other
maliciously or we can talk. Your choice. I shared some of the truth of my
existence with you. Now it’s your turn.”
“Fine.” She surrendered. “I was born the bastard daughter of an Irish
priest. Spent most of my life trying to find him, wanted to learn who my daddy
was. When I was 18, I did find him. Flew to Europe
to see him, but not long after I did one of your kind seduced him into
darkness. Took him from away from me, just when I was starting to get to know
him and he me. I've spent the past four years hunting your kind, mostly in
Europe but recently back here in the United States
“I'm curious then which of us is the greater monster. I may have you in
numbers, but I also bear the weight of many of them. You? Talk about
cold-blooded and thoughtless.”
“I won't have you stand in judgment over me, vampire.”
“And yet that is the precise position I am in. To decide your fate.
Life, death, or something else. Which of these does someone like you deserve?
You who would murder me without guilt or regret. What should I do with one like
you?”
“Kill me and get it over with. I’ll not help you, vampire. Not after
what your kind did to me and mine.”
“Does your life mean so little to you?” Michael wondered aloud. He
heard echoes of his own exasperation when he asked Ian if self-destruction was
the answer to his dilemma.
Frustrated by his own doubts and her continued defiance, Michael
dragged her back to her chains and left her in silence for the rest of the
night.
---
When dusk came again, Michael awoke and immediately opened the shutters
outside. It was still raining, but the lashing wind was long gone. “The storm
has passed on.” He admitted. “Thank God for that.” He turned back to Julia who
sat chained against the wall, a look of angry defiance painted on her face.
“Are we back to all that again?”
“Fuck you.”
“Who sent you?”
“Fuck you.”
Michael let out a sigh. “Very well.” He went over to his rain coat and
fished his pistol holster from amidst its folds. He pulled out his Beretta 93R
and moved the selector switch from safety to single shot. He checked chamber,
all this in full view of Julia.
“You said you didn't want to kill.”
“And last night, you asked me to do it. So which is it, Julia?”
Doubt crossed her face, followed by fear. But they soon vanished,
replaced by hard determination. “Fine. Finish me off, and be done with this
farce.”
No sniveling, pleading, or begging. In that moment, Michael knew he’d
been right about her. There was no way he could destroy someone of such
courage. Terrified of him as she was, she still had the guts to choose death
instead of budging even an inch. It was such a rare thing to find bravery such
as that. No, he couldn’t destroy her. She was far too valuable alive.
But Michael had now backed himself into a corner. She’d called his
bluff on the gun. It was now either kill her or back off and make himself seem
a coward in her eyes.
“Any last request?” If he could just get that last taste in…
“Maybe a bit of liquid courage.” She said, her voice wavering.
It was the opening he needed. Michael went to the mini-bar under the
desk and pulled out a bottle. He poured it into a glass with his back to her,
cut his finger, and let a few drops fall inside. He then returned to Julia and
offered the drink to her. She downed it in one gulp.
He unbound her and led her over to the bed. She lay down upon it and
looked up at him.
“Do you still want me to do this?” The question was a test. Had the
bond taken?
“If you wish to.” she replied. She sat up and took hold gently of his
gun hand, leading the pistol to her face. “Go ahead.” She said as she closed
her eyes.
The battle of courage verses fear was gone. In its place was the bond
and the willingness to do whatever your master asked, no matter how extreme. Michael
instantly felt a tightening in his pants, his first real arousal for Julia. But
he recognized it for what it was, the arousal he always felt when he
encountered this sort of circumstance. The same arousal he’d felt when Kris
demanded that he be the one to take her life. To have someone so totally
enraptured by you that they'd let you do anything to them, even murder them,
without complaint or resistance. Nothing turned him on more.
He briefly contemplated pulling the trigger, reversing his decision to
spare her. He hardened even further at the thought and he felt what seemed to
him a visceral growl from the Beast within him. No, down that road lay madness
and monstrosity. He would not go there. He would not add another sin as grave
as those he was seeking to atone.
He put the safety back on and pulled the pistol away. Julia opened her
eyes.
“I think I'd rather fuck you instead.” He said with a smile.
---
Sarah arrived a few hours later. She'd been instructed to bring women's
clothing for a buxom figure and she'd done her best to find what she could in
the stores in the aftermath of the storm. She knew what the instructions meant,
of course. Michael had scored himself another lover and he'd waited out the
storm in this new woman's arms.
The scene Sarah saw as she walked into his suite gave her no evidence
that things were anything other than what she'd presumed. A young blonde woman
of about 20 was bent over the edge of Michael's whirlpool tub with Michael
behind her plowing away. Sarah stopped in the threshold of the suite's bedroom
and watched for a few moments. Michael was, at first, too focused on his carnal
activity to notice Sarah's arrival, but after a short while, he looked up and
saw her. Realizing he was being watched drove Michael over the edge and Sarah
smiled as she could see the orgasm on his face.
“I never tire of seeing that look on you.” teased Sarah. “Even if I'm
not the one causing it.”
“Sarah, this is Julia.” Michael pulled out and gave Julia a playful
slap on the ass.
“Charmed.” said Sarah sardonically.
“Who is this? Another vampire?” Julia asked.
“Indeed she is.”
“She’s just a teenager, a kid.”
“You should know from your hunting that a human ceases to age when they
become one of us. Their outer appearance freezes in place and is hardly an indicator
of their true age. Sarah is my consort.”
“Awfully loose with our secrets,
aren't we?” cautioned Sarah.
“This one was rather immune to my charms, my love.” explained Michael.
“She knew what I was from the moment she laid eyes on me. Thought to ash me
right here in this very tub. Three nights trapped in here thanks to the storm brought
her around.” Sarah immediately understood his implication.
“A hunter?”
“Yes, but a cute one. Although, Julia, my dear, you still haven't
shared with us who set me up.”
Julia sat back into the warm water of the tub and relaxed for a moment.
Then she began to speak. “I came back to the states from England
“Internet?” asked Sarah, puzzled.
“A world-wide computer network.” Michael explained. “Used to be the
province of governments and universities, but in the last few months it's
started to expand into the private sector. Let me guess. USENET?”
Julia nodded. “USENET. AOL
message boards, IRC, all that. As I was saying, there was a lot of chatter that
something supernatural was behind all the turmoil down here. So I started
making my way down this way from Boston Virginia Beach
Michael chuckled at the off-hand compliment. “You said a guy. So he was
male?”
“Yeah.” There went Michael’s first theory. It was not Rebecca, at least
not directly.
“What did this fellow look like?”
“Dark hair. Really intense blue eyes. Big, broad shouldered. Kind of an
Alec Baldwin type.”
“Doesn't sound like anyone I know in the city.” said Sarah.
“Me neither. Perhaps a disguise through vampiric power?”
“I know of no power that could do that.” Answered Sarah. “Ernie had a
power that he called the Familiar Stranger, but it's designed to make you blend
in. Someone with intense eyes that reminds you of a celebrity is the exact
opposite of that. So I'd say no. Julia saw this one as he truly is.”
“A dead end, at least for now,”
Michael concluded. He decided to try something else.
“Julia, what room are you staying in here?”
“217.”
“I don't suppose there's anything in your affects that might give us a
clue about this guy.”
Julia shrugged. “You're welcome to look, but I doubt it.”
---
“It’s begun, hasn’t it?” said Sarah as they fished through Julia’s
things in room 217.
“Yeah. A hunter. And as Damian warned, sent by a vampire after me.”
“Any clue who this vampire is?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything either way. The Djinn probably has
allies to support his coup. Andreas or Sophia either one. This Baldwin brother
vamp could be one of their childer, embraced since I left Roanoke
“Or it could be…”
“Yes, that too. One of Rebecca’s. Hell, maybe even Deborah's for all we
know. His striking appearance could mean Daeva clan, so it’s probably more
likely to be one of theirs than anyone…”
“Pointless speculation. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I know what you’re thinking. Now that it seems The Djinn has brought
war to Tidewater again, my mind is almost forced to think about what I left
behind. The one thing you don’t want me to do.”
Sarah looked at him. “If he is one of theirs, it probably means they’ve
taken another lover and moved on from you.”
“Probably does. But the ugly truth before us is I may have to go after
all. Not to save them, but to destroy them.”
“Michael, after all you’ve dreamed and hoped for…can you even do that?”
“Damian was right about one thing. These hunters aren’t going to care
much about who they kill. If they’re all gunning for me, there aren’t many
paths to me that don’t risk you as well. Can I destroy my sire and childe? I
hope I don’t have to, but if it means keeping you safe then I’ll do what I
must.”
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