Act One Chapter Six - Like a Prayer

Michael put a few books on the shelves of his office, mostly sci-fi novels and other light reading that he might use to get away for a bit from the hustle of the club downstairs. Boar sat on the love seat nearby. “So, now that you’re established again, what do you suppose is the next move?”

“That’s for Max to decide.” Answered Michael without turning around. He put another book on the shelf.

“And that doesn’t worry you?”

“All the time.” Mused Michael, “but I can’t let that stop me. Paranoia will only get in the way of things.” Michael put the last book on the shelf and turned around. “He’s got basically two options. He can attack me directly or indirectly. Directly is pointless. Even with his council of sycophants, Francois is going to frown on anything that puts this city back on the map for another hunter plague and Max is not about to do anything to alienate Francois. I’m sure Francois has plenty of suspicions about Max’s role in Lazarus’ death, but like all of us has no proof.”

“No proof? I thought you did have some.”

“A bluff on my part. I know more details of the plot than anyone since I drank the soul of the Mad Bishop who previously had drunk the soul of Shakespeare, one of the conspirators. I saw everything through their eyes and their memories, but I have no way to ‘prove’ what I saw. Still, this is not a court of law and reasonable suspicion plus open antagonism may drive our noble sheriff into action. Max can’t do much about the suspicion, but he can prevent the antagonism.”

“So that leaves us with the indirect option.”

“Which means it’ll be just like before. An attack on my resources, my power-base. Damian raided the Fox Club and shut us down.”

“I find it hard to believe they’ll come after Nightstyles.”

“This venue has been perfectly functional as ‘Vampire Headquarters’ even without it being open as a club. Under Lazarus and during the interim before Max, it was just an empty building. It could be again.”

“How do we prevent that?”

“I have some ideas. Imagine, for a moment, this place as neutral ground not just for vampires, but also for mages and werewolves. Changelings and whatever else is out there. If nearly everyone has a stake in keeping this place open, Max won’t be able to move against it.”

Boar began to chuckle. “I swear you’ve learned to mind-read somewhere along the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been thinking. Well, back up, let me start before that. Coming back here has been good for more than just you. Werewolves are spiritual creatures. We hunt rogue spirits. We aid noble spirits and they, in turn, aid us. Since I’ve been back, I’ve been able to hear them with greater clarity. They’re talking to me. I think somehow I’ve earned their respect, perhaps through what we accomplished in Roanoke against my old pack.”

“That seems odd.”

“Well, in one sense it isn’t. What was that old Bible story about…” Boar paused to remember a long forgotten story. “Samson killing a thousand enemies with only a jawbone. Or Sergeant York in World War I capturing 100 enemy soldiers all by his self.  Pretty impressive deeds, but not if you’re a Philistine or a German. The spirits took notice of what I did, even if other werewolves wouldn’t be very happy with me. But here’s the thing. I’m hungry to learn more. I’m eager to connect better with these spirits that are calling me. But to do that…”

“…you need another werewolf to teach you how.”

“Precisely. So I’ve been thinking I should try to find them, the pack here in Tidewater, and see what they’ll offer. And since it seems you’re about to ask me to be the ambassador for your little scheme…”

“But you just said they’ll likely look not-too-kindly on what we did to the Roanoke pack.”

“I did. But it depends on how many know I was involved. Or if they even care. There’s no more species loyalty among werewolves than there is among your kind. We can be pretty Machiavellian ourselves when we put our minds to it. Worst they can do is say ‘no’ to either of our aims. But we’re not going to know unless I go ask.”

At that, the door to the office opened and Julia stepped inside. The open door allowed the pounding beat and driving music of the dance floor into the quiet office like an unwelcome invader. She closed the door behind her and looked at the two of them.

“I’m guessing it’s time for our date.” Said Michael slyly.

“Date?” Boar asked. Michael suspected that his neglect of Julia had not gone unnoticed by others, hence the astonishment.

“Yes, of a sort. I promised Julia some dedicated training in fighting and combat techniques. We’ll be over in the conference room. Shove the table aside and stack up the chairs and you’ve got a good bit of space in there.”

“I even dressed appropriately.” Said Julia, taking off her jacket. Underneath, she was dressed in an orange sports bra and grey sweat pants. Of course, vampires don’t sweat, so her attire was likely more to tantalize as it was to be functional.

Boar picked up on that too. “I see where this is going. I’ll let you two alone.” He stood up and quickly exited the office.

Michael took a moment to look Julia up and down, taking in her beauty as he did so. If she had indeed meant to tempt him, she had more than succeeded. “You’re going to make it hard to concentrate.” He quipped.

“Maybe that’s part of the challenge; trying to keep your hands off of me.” She flirted back.

“Let’s begin.” He headed over to the conference room  It was set up as it always was, a large long table in the center, surrounded by the chairs of the primogen and the Prince. Julia followed him inside.

“Give me a hand here.” said Michael, fetching a chair in each hand. Within a few minutes, the two of them had transformed the staid conference room into a workable space. Michael took up position.

“Alright, first rules of hand fighting, no matter what you are. Bend your knees a bit, turn sideways, and always keep your eyes on your opponent.”

“Why?”

“You’re a smaller target turned sideways. You’re a smaller target crouched even slightly. And always keep your situational awareness. Know what’s happening at all times. Okay, second rule. Never aim for your target. Always aim behind or beyond it.”

Julia’s confused look continued. “Again, little experiment.” He put out his arm. “Push on my arm.” She did so and was unable to move it beyond a few inches. “Alright, push past my arm.” When she did that, she moved his limb easily. “You always have more power when you aim farther than your intended point of impact. Of course, the trick, and this comes only with practice, is learning to do that without overextending yourself. Watch.”

Michael snapped a punch at her, deliberately both missing and overshooting her. He then held position. “Now what’s wrong with my pose?” He asked.

She looked at him for a moment and then gave him a playful shove. Michael staggered a few steps. “Exactly.” he said. “I’m off balance and vulnerable. Never lose your footing if you can help it. Now, these are general rules. They apply whether you’re attacking with fists or with hand weapons. Any weapon in your hand, whether it be sword or knife or club or whatever, should be an extension of your body. Okay, basic rules. Very simple. The trick is not knowing what to do, it’s doing it without thinking about it. Making it reflexive. Instinctive. That comes only with practice. So that’s what we’re going to do for most of our time. I’ll teach you some more advanced stuff once we’re both confident you’ve got the basics down.”

“How does being kindred change things?”

“Not as much as you think. The basics stay the same. Your vampire nature merely makes you faster, stronger, and more aware. Now those are big advantages, but you can’t make use of them fully without mastery of these basics. Now, let’s do some practice punches. Hit my hand as hard as you can.”

She did so and ran through that and other drills over the next couple of hours. Michael was impressed with her enthusiasm if not her skill. Much of what he taught her was stuff that he had learned in the SCA as a swordsman, very elementary skills that he knew before he became kindred and before Solomon began working on him. But as the time passed, he did notice her getting more accurate and more powerful in her strikes.

Thinking of Solomon made Michael wonder if he couldn’t find another tutor for Julia to help him out. If Solomon’s wanderings brought him around to Tidewater again, he knew he could call on him, but for now the big Gangrel was off on his adventures. Francois perhaps? The dedicated French knight was certainly feared for his prowess, but would he share it even as a favor to Michael?

Michael shrugged to himself and figured there’d be only one way to know for sure: ask. He returned his attention to Julia.

“Okay, let’s do this again. Hit my hands.”

Julia let out an exasperated breath, but made no other complaint. She took up her stance again (Michael had to admit that was improving as well) and took a swing at him. This time, rather than wait passively for her strike to land, he reached out and grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him.

Michael immediately let go of her hand to let his hands reach down and dance across the bare skin of her belly. Julia shivered at his ticklish touch. He nuzzled her neck with a few light kisses. “Gotcha.” he teased.

“I wondered when this part was coming.”

“I have to admit I’m rather impressed I held out this long. I like the outfit.” His hands worked their way from her sides to the front, gracefully touching around her navel. “Do you still feel neglected?”

“No, but if your hands find their way just a bit lower I think I’ll feel even less so.”

“I think I can manage that.”

---

When Michael was seducing his prey, he would be very attentive to his partner, focusing his energies on her, making her feel maximum pleasure. This was, of course, to do two things. One to exhaust her and to make it easier to handle her if things somehow went south. Two to keep her so distracted that she simply absorbed the bliss of his bite into the rest of all her other sensations.

Michael realized part way through his lovemaking with Julia that he often had a different approach with his harem. It was more selfish, more focused on pleasing himself than his partner. The revelation bothered him somewhat. Again he could certainly demand anything of his thralls, even taboo acts and fetishes considered beyond the pale to even the kinkiest. But despite that, he found that he’d rather be gentler and more equitable with his lovers and that perhaps he should be more attentive to their needs and wants than he had been.

Michael also realized this was a weakness. His affections for his women were one of his most vulnerable points. The Mad Bishop had sent Hiroshi Takagi to murder his lover, Leigh Tyler, for precisely this reason. Guy du Savoy had sent the assassin Cranston to murder Sarah on what would have been their wedding day for precisely this reason. His enemies had succeeded in the first and nearly so in the second and in both cases Michael had responded in precisely the manner his enemies had expected. He danced to their tune because his grief, his anger, and his love demanded nothing less.

And Max would know that.

The epiphany shook him out of his rhythm and Julia took notice. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. Just…” he paused to find a suitable answer. “I sometimes let my mind wander. It prolongs the experience if I don’t focus too much on the beauty and the sexiness of your body.” She smiled at the flattery. “Unfortunately, with the way my mind works, it sometimes goes to dark places.”

“Like where?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Places where I remember just how vulnerable we all are. I hate the thought of losing you or any of the harem girls.”

“I wouldn’t worry.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “You’re teaching me to fight. How long will it be until I can help defend us from all your enemies?”

“Hopefully, not long. I worry…” He did not get to finish his sentence before a loud knock came at the conference room door. “I am indisposed.” He called out, trying to chase off whoever it was. Probably Virgil.

The door opened. Michael stood up and turned about, annoyed at the intrusion. “I might have guessed.” Said the intruder.

“Speak of the devil…” said Michael, recalling his earlier thoughts about Solomon Wolfe. For that was who stood in the doorway. “You always seem to show up at the weirdest times.”

“It’s in my nature.” He said off-handedly. “I just wanted to see with my own eyes that you had, in fact, returned to Tidewater.”

“News travels fast. I’ve been here less than a week.”

“I was in Virginia. Anyway, you two finish up. I’ll wait.” Solomon stepped back out.

Of course, the interruption had killed the mood. But as Michael moved back to Julia to regain said mood, she stopped him. “Duty calls.” She reminded him. She then kissed him passionately. “I don’t doubt we’ll have many more chances to fuck like rabbits over the coming days and weeks. Go, see what Solomon wants. I’ll clean up here.”

Michael stood back up and got dressed. As Julia began moving the furniture back where it was at the start of their session, he walked back over to the office.

Solomon was sitting there patiently waiting. Michael walked to his desk and sat down. “You still feel a need to check up on me?” he asked somewhat teasingly.

Michael was not expecting a serious answer, but he got one anyway. “Only when you do the unexpected.” Solomon growled. If Michael hadn’t known the big Gangrel better, he’d have thought him disappointed. “I never figured you’d come back. You had everything you ever wanted in Blacksburg. Star of your own little porn-movie reality. Willing nubile college students every night. Booze, parties, and none of this Byzantine bullshit with villains around every corner.”

“Even with my lustful nature, I can grow bored.” Admitted Michael. “And once that happened, I started to realize, despite your claim to the contrary, that I really didn’t have everything I ever wanted at my fingertips in Blacksburg. My sire was my bitter enemy. My first childe had vanished into the ether. My one true love was here somewhere in Tidewater. I could try to remedy the first. Not much I can do about the second…at least for the moment. But the third? That would require some radical changes. Require me getting back into the game, back into the Danse. And so here I am.”

“You haven’t found her, have you?”

“Only been here a week, but I’ve got Terra looking for whoever she can find of Sarah’s old Wicca coven. After the hunter attack on our wedding, they went underground. Once she finds them, I’ll be able to find Sarah. I’m pretty confident. Thus far, I’ve had enough good luck to put proof to the old cliché ‘Fortune favors the bold.’”

“Well, you shut Max down hard, I’ll give you that.”

“That’s not all.” Said Michael. “I said I could try to remedy things with Deborah. I did try and I succeeded. I came here with her blessing.”

“Probably just an excuse to get you out of her hair for good.” Growled Solomon cynically.

“Maybe, but for a week I got to be the guest star in her ‘porn-movie reality.’”

Solomon’s eyes flashed with envy. “She always did have a soft spot for you.” He grumbled half-heartedly. He then sighed wistfully. “I suppose I should just admit to myself that the ship has sailed.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m quite certain my last fling with her was our ship’s final voyage. I don’t plan to go back to Blacksburg again if I can help it. And I gave her something she wanted very badly that may take her away from there as well.”

“Oh?”

“I told her where to find Rebecca. Deb’s still carrying a torch for her.”

“Don’t be too surprised by that. Look at me. I haven’t shared her bed in almost twenty years. I suppose it’s a vampire thing. Easy to carry a torch for that beauty you knew ages ago when you know that when you find her again she’ll be almost completely unchanged. It’s different for humans. That cute little 20 year old you picture in your mind is now a 60 year old matronly grandmother. Not quite as much fun. Still, once you live past your mortal lifespan, your perspective changes. I’ve got nothing of my mortal life left; it’s all long gone. Even now, my second mortal lifetime is passing me by. She’s about the only thing I have left of it.”

Michael’s mind was cast back onto his earlier conversation with Deborah herself. ”You begin to value even your enemies as an anchor to an increasingly distant past.”

“You didn’t learn that bit of wisdom on your own. You haven’t lived long enough.”

“No, that came from Deborah.” Answered Michael. “Maybe as the reason why she chose to accept my apologies and reconcile with me.”

“Maybe. She’s about to hit that first benchmark. Were she mortal, she’d be hitting the nursing home soon.”

“So she’s looking to begin chapter two, as it were. And you’re looking for chapter three.”

“I suppose I am.” Said Solomon.

---

Michael drove through the winding streets of Hampton, taking Little Back River Road towards his closed down old club, the Fox Club. After being shut down by the authorities, the building had been left vacant. Weather and neglect had made the place somewhat run down, but it was still standing and made for a decent, if not great, temporary haven for Michael and his entourage.

Michael pulled the Falcon into the old parking lot and killed the engine. Sammy’s Grand Prix and Mitch’s infamous blue Camaro were parked there. He could easily imagine what Mitch and Sammy were up to if they were here alone. Not that they were an item or anything, but having his two most sexual enthusiastic friends alone together was not exactly a formula anything other than wild passion.

The rest of the group was likely still about for the night, which suited Michael just fine. He headed inside, making his way through the dark to the basement of the club. If Sammy and Mitch had been at it, they were now quiet, likely asleep. Michael could hear their breathing with his vampire hearing, but chose not to disturb them. He made his way back to his old office.

It had been much as he’d left it. A now quite outdated computer sat on the table, the same one he’d used during the club’s heyday. One of the big clues that the raid that shut down the club was nothing more than a ruse by Michael’s vampire enemies was that the police didn’t bother to take that computer into their care. Not that they would have found anything of interest on it (Michael kept his business records on the computer upstairs, which they did take), but regardless they didn’t know that and should have taken everything. That is, if the raid had been something real and not merely a cover for an attack by Kindred rivals.

Michael was grateful to still have the dinosaur however. On its hard drive were several unfinished manuscripts for novels and stories he’d hoped to publish as his author alter ego. If he took the time to finish them and get them published, he might be able to expand his income stream a little.

He sat down and turned the computer on. It hummed to life and Michael pulled up MS Word to begin working on one of the unfinished scripts. But he found his mind really wasn’t where it needed to be to write. His conversation with Solomon was rattling around his head too much.

It was not like Solomon to be so wayward and uncertain. Michael understood the logic of what Solomon had told him. He was a century old vampire, embraced around age 30, making his span of days almost double that of an average human being.

“What will it be like when I’m 100?” Michael wondered. “If I make it that far.” He got up and walked over to the wall opposite his desk. There was a mirror on the wall and Michael looked at himself in it.

The face that stared back at him was the exact same one he’d seen in it for the past seven years. He had not, as Todd Sexton accurately observed, aged a day since his embrace. No vampire did. Oh, a kindred could force a minor change into becoming permanent. Let a tattoo, piercing, or even a battle scar remain with deliberate control of the blood and the regenerative process. Michael himself had forced a goatee into existence, a much more time consuming effort.  All in an attempt to try to mimic something of the normal aging process. But it was one thing for a pseudo 26-year old to look 19. It would be something else for a 70-year old or a 150-year old to do the same.

“I still look like a fucking boy band douche-bag.” He growled out loud.

“That’s not such a bad thing.” Said a woman’s voice. Michael turned, startled. In his thoughts, he’d not heard Terra come into the office.

“Not often you can sneak up on me.” Michael half-complained half-complimented her.

“I like my men cute and innocent.” Admitted Terra, walking closer to him. “More than a few of us thirtysomethings do.”

“I’m going to spend eternity pretending to be a frat boy. Joy.” Michael grumbled. “Just so I can feast on flighty college girls and bored housewives. Maybe Rebecca was on to something when she said I should expand my horizons. Maybe I should go gay just for the sake of variety.”

Terra gave him an affectionate stroke on the cheek. “You’re in a bad mood.” It was a statement rather than a critique. Her thrall-bond would not have allowed her to complain about his mood.

“It’s just Solomon. He came into town all moody and depressed. Guess he’s in the middle of some sort of vampire midlife crisis. Put me off my game to see my old mentor so down and out like that.”

“Well, maybe I can help cheer you up.” She gave him a hard passionate kiss. Thinking she was just offering sex, Michael did not respond all that enthusiastically. Solomon had apparently soured his lust as well. But she pulled away a second later and smiled at him. “I found her.”

Now that was definitely cause for a good mood.

----

The place in question was an old Victorian home down in Chesapeake, perhaps one of the oldest homes in all of Tidewater. A group of occultists were rumored to have bought it out two years ago and had been using it as something of a group home and group business. People interested in the occult could schedule an appointment to visit their library and even purchase books and other paraphernalia if so inclined.

Terra had to admit that she wasn’t 100% sure this was the place, but she was, in her own words, “at least 75% sure.” It was the best lead she’d found in her week of digging. Her source was reasonably trust-worthy: the stepbrother of one of the murdered Wicca coven members. He told Terra what he knew, but admitted that he too wasn’t completely sure that’s where the group had ended up.

Between the uncertainty and the fact that he very could well be seeing Sarah after all that time, Michael was as nervous as he’d ever been since his embrace. In fact, he hadn’t believed he could feel anxiety like this as a vampire until this night. He was so nervous, in fact, he asked Terra to drive.

Thus, the next evening they set out to find the place. It wasn’t hard to locate. They pulled up to the house and Michael admitted it was impressive. In the moonlight, it looked every bit the stereotypical haunted house, down to the somewhat dilapidated appearance. Michael suspected that was more façade than neglect; the coven was either aiming to intimidate or to play to the stereotype of a pop culture witch.

“I don’t guess they’re expecting us.” Michael asked.

“I didn’t have any contact information. Just an address. I guess the next step is to just knock on the door.”

“I guess so.” Michael got out and found himself frozen in his tracks by his own nerves.

Terra looked at him with friendly amusement. Michael laughed at himself. “I don’t blame you for finding this funny.” He said. “I’m so suave and confident that I can work my way into the pants of just about any woman with a few choice words and a healthy dose of vampire charisma. But here I am, Casanova reborn, petrified to go knock on that door. I’ve faced down armies of ninjas and mercenaries, armed with swords and machine guns. This is ridiculous!”

“Would you like me to do it?”

Michael wasn’t sure if that was a sincere offer or a supportive attempt to shame him out of his hesitation. Regardless, the latter was the result. “No,” said Michael with resolve. “I’ll do this.” He started walking up the path to the front door.

He took the heavy brass door knocker in hand and rapped it against the door with a bit of melodrama. “That’s more the Michael I know and love.” Said Terra. “And more like the one she loves.”

Michael frowned. Now he was pretty certain Terra had been trying to shame him. The thrall-bond sometimes manifested in mysterious and unpredictable ways. It forced a person to always do, say, and think what was best for their master and while it was not terribly respectful of Terra to mock his anxiety, it was clearly what he needed.

The door opened slowly and only a crack. Half a woman’s face peeked out the crack. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“You might.” Replied Michael. “I’ve heard this is the home of an occult…wait, Elizabeth? Is that you?”

The door came open further and now Michael got a full look at the woman’s face. It was indeed Sarah’s mortal sister Elizabeth.

“My God, Michael. I didn’t see you clearly in the dark. I didn’t realize…Oh my God, you’ve come back.”

“Overdue.” Michael admitted contritely. “You know who I’m really here to see.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “But I should warn you. There have been…some changes.”

Michael turned back to Terra. “Return to the Fox Club. I will summon you if I have further need of you.”

Terra nodded. “Good luck, Michael.”

Michael followed Elizabeth inside. The large front room of the Victorian had been converted into a small store area; clearly this was where they sold their goods to their visitors. Elizabeth walked through the room without the aid of any light, clearly completely comfortable and familiar with her surroundings. Michael, whose vampire senses allowed him see clearly in the darkness, followed behind.

They passed from the store area into a hallway and then up a set of stairs. Elizabeth led Michael down another hallway to the door of what seemed to him to be the master bedroom. She paused and turned back to him. “She’s within. You may not…” she began.

“Just let me see her.” Said Michael. His nerves had been replaced with impatience and a growing, almost ravenous, hunger to see his beloved.

Elizabeth opened the door and motioned for Michael to enter. He did so hurriedly.

The room was large and unlike the rest of the house was at least dimly lit. It was typical Sarah in every way. Red velvet and dark wood, the epitome of Gothic.

“The pieces are moving.” Said a very familiar voice from a far corner. “Soon, the king will take his queen so to become king again. Just as the jester desires.”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, to call out to her, but found his voice caught in his throat and his anxiety returned. Frustrated with himself, he willed himself to step further into the room, coming around the large four-post curtained bed that blocked his view of Sarah. He laid eyes on her for the first time in over two years.

Elizabeth had not been kidding about the changes. They were quite obvious even in the dim light. Her back was to him; she was facing into a burning fireplace that provided the room’s only light. Michael could see that Sarah’s hair had grown long and was colored a very unnatural shade of bright purple. He also noticed that it was long on one side of her head, but she was shaved down to the scalp on the other, giving her hairstyle an odd asymmetrical look.

Her clothing was also rather different from what he remembered. She was wearing neither the conservative Gothic dresses she was normally fond of nor was she in her “pedophile wet-dream” hunting attire. Instead, it was some manner of hybrid outfit between the two. A long dark skirt, but a corset top that left both her shoulders and a portion of her midriff bare.

“Where did you go?” said Sarah, looking about the hearth as if something or someone had suddenly gone missing. “Where are you? Why did you go silent?” She turned about suddenly and saw him. “Oh, there you are.”

The look in her amber eyes frightened Michael as he’d never been frightened before. He knew that look. He knew where it came from and it broke his heart to see it. What he saw of her appearance were not merely a change in style and fashion, but symptoms of something far more sinister. He saw Ernie in those eyes. He saw his madness. The torpor must have awakened the previously dormant nature of her Malkovian bloodline. Now he knew why she’d never pursued him to Blacksburg.

Sarah had gone mad.

But then he saw something he did not expect. Her countenance softened as if the madness were fading from her mind. She took a few steps forward, coming within arms reach of him. By the time she reached him, the glint of insanity in her eyes had vanished. All that remained was the Sarah he remembered.

They looked each other up and down without speaking for a long moment. Michael began to feel something new within himself. He suddenly realized that he didn’t just miss Sarah, he MISSED her. As if every fiber of his being desired her, wanted her, and hungered for her.

Michael, like most young vampires, reflexively willed his human body functions back to life each night. If he hadn’t, he suspected strongly they might have awoken on their own in that moment. He felt his dead heart pound within his chest. He began to breathe heavily, almost panting. His pants suddenly felt about ten sizes too small as his erection grew about as hard as it ever had.

The only thing he wanted to do was grab her, rip her clothes off, and ravage her for hours.

For all the lust and passion Michael normally felt towards his harem, his other lovers, or his prey, he’d never experienced anything of this intensity. It reminded him of his Beast, trying to claw its way into his mind to take over. Maybe this was a form of frenzy. Normally, the demonic monster in his soul reacted like most any dumb animal: fight a threat or flee from it. He supposed, with what little reason he had left, that it was possible for it to want to mate as well.

It took nearly all his will to constrain these desires. Sarah, for her part, seemed oblivious to what he was enduring. She moved even closer and a tiny glimmer of the madness returned to her eyes. “Why are you still silent?” She reached up and touched him on the face. When her skin made contact with his, she recoiled as if stung.

“My God, you’re real.” The madness fled instantly, replaced with genuine and sincere astonishment. “Real. It’s…the real you.” She began to stammer out the same phrase over and over again. “Real. It’s really you. You’re really here.” As she did so, Michael noticed the same frantic lust begin to rise in her. Her breathing quickened. Her skin began to glisten from sweat.

And then, she lost control. She reached out and grabbed him by the shirt. With the strength only a vampire could muster, the 4’10” witch flung him onto the bed.

Michael stopped resisting his impulses in that moment too. The rest of the night was a complete blur.

---

The sun set on the following night and Michael’s eyes fluttered awake. His memory was muddled, as it often was when coming out of the Beast’s enthrallment, but he knew two things in that moment. One, he was in Sarah’s bed, and two, she was curled up in his arms. Oh, and there was a third realization: they were both quite naked.

He lay there for a long moment, savoring that simple reality. It all seemed so right, like all that was wrong in the world had realigned even if only for an instant. But then his curiosity got the better of him and he tried to remember the night before. Down that path lay frustration. As a member of Clan Daeva, a vampire clan often notorious for its passions, Michael had never experienced a frenzy like that, but it was now quite obvious to him that it was indeed a frenzy. The Beast had taken complete control of him.

Not only that, Sarah’s Beast had awakened in her as well. Michael wasn’t sure what it meant that even the demonic spirits within their vampire hearts hungered for one another, but it seemed auspicious.

Michael decided to leave such questions to philosophers and he shifted in the bed, trying to adjust his pose so he could be both more comfortable and better able to give Sarah a good looking over. After all, he’d seen some rather radical changes to her appearance and his fuzzy memories of their night together seemed to hint to him there was more to discover.

As he moved, their bodies peeled from one another not unlike someone trying to pull tape off the wall. Everything was sticky and gooey and still not quite dry despite their hours-long daysleep. Michael had “stained the sheets” before with his various lovers, but he was pretty sure there wasn’t a single inch of either of their bodies that wasn’t covered with their fluids. Whatever happened between them in the throes of their lust frenzy must have been wild indeed.

If pulling away from her disturbed her slumber, Sarah gave only the slightest sign, a subtle smile crossing her lips as Michael began his visual inspection of her body. Much was as he remembered her, but there was also much that was very different.

He started at her head. He’d been right about her hairstyle, both the wild purple color and the half-shaved look. He noticed on the shaved side however that she’d added several new piercings in her ears. The whole back ridge of her ear was now dotted with studs. He ran a playful finger along the ridge before moving further down her body.

The next thing he saw was a tattoo. Sarah had no ink before, but now it seemed that she had gotten several. This one was of a stylized wolf; it looked rather Irish or Celtic in origin. It curled about her breast as if guarding those tiny buds.

And they were still quite tiny. Michael looked at her breasts with fond remembrance, but there was a change here as well. Two silver barbell piercings adorned her nipples.

Michael moved down to find a new piercing in her navel, a tattoo in her groin of a stylized Celtic Oak Tree, another piercing in her clit, and a large tattoo of a fairy on her thigh. The fairy was nude and posing somewhat provocatively, thrusting her buxom chest outward as if to compensate for the lack of those assets on Sarah herself.

Michael turned his attentions back to her groin, noting that in order for her new tree tattoo to be visible, she had to shave off her pubic hair. That, in some ways, removed the most visible sign that her body was not that of a preteen child. Still, with the ink, she paradoxically looked older at the same time as looking more child-like. Michael wasn’t sure what to make of that. He knew, however, this was not a question he could leave to others to answer.

He had a feeling there was still more to discover, so he rolled over top of her to get a look at her back side. Sure enough, there were two more tattoos back here. On her right shoulder was an arcane symbol of some kind, perhaps some form of summoning circle. At the small of her back was an elaborate raven, whose tail led down to the top of the crack between her buttocks.

Knowing the effort he’d had to put into growing out his beard, the fact that Sarah had made all these changes to her appearance was staggering. The question was why? Why did she do it? Was it part of her madness?

Sarah turned her head to look him in the eyes. He realized she’d been watching him look her over the whole time. “Do you like?”

Michael smiled. He had to admit seeing it all at once was a bit of a shock, but it was all extremely sexy. “Yeah, I do. But what made you do all of it?”

“You did. You told me.” She pointed to her tattoos and piercings in turn. “Each one by your instruction.”

“Sarah, this is the first time we’ve seen each other in two years. I haven’t told you to do anything.”

“Not like this. Not like we’re talking now. But you would come to me. In dreams. In visions. You would give me instructions. Pierce your nips. Pierce your ears. Get a tattoo on your leg. I’ll admit you gave me some leeway on some of the details.”

“I can see that. Your choices are very…you.”

Sarah smiled broadly and Michael’s heart jumped at the sight of it. God, it was so good to see that. “You also told me to stop dressing like an old maid. That I shouldn’t hide my body anymore from anyone. So I did. But I liked my long skirts too much. I kept those. But I’ve changed up my tops. It’s kinda fun to tease with a little skin, although I don’t get too much opportunity to do that with all of us in hiding.”

“You can tease me all you want.” Said Michael playfully. He turned serious. “Look, Sarah, there’s no way I can say this that expresses the full regret behind it, but I’m so very sorry I’ve stayed away. I should have never let Max intimidate me away from your side.”

“Don’t.” she said, bringing a finger up to his lips. “Don’t you dare beat yourself up over this. You needed to go to Blacksburg. You needed to free Prince Deborah. You needed to stay there to support her. And you needed to come back to Tidewater when your work there was done. You don’t need to apologize for fate.”

Michael smiled and kissed her finger. “That sounds like the old you.”

“I’m still in here.” She said cryptically. “Although sometimes the visions are overwhelming and I get lost.”

“So you know what’s happened to you?”

Sarah nodded. “At times, like now, when I’m completely myself again. I know what’s happened. But, as much as it frightens me, it’s not always a bad thing to let the insanity take over. Not that I always have a choice. It’s a gift in some ways. It kept you with me, even as a phantom, when we were unavoidably parted. Destiny or no, that was hard.”

“But now I’m here and I’m not leaving you again.”

“As a phantom, you kept me safe. You told me to hide from Max, that he’d try to hurt you through me. So I did. I brought us all here and kept us underground. Hidden away. But now that you’re back, I don’t need to hide anymore. I can stand tall by your side.” She paused and got a quirky look on her face. “Or short as the case may be.”

Michael and Sarah both laughed at that. They looked at one another.

“God, I missed you.” Michael admitted, tears welling in his eyes.

Sarah reached up and wiped the tears away. “Stop that.” She chided him. “If you break down and start crying, you’ll get me gushing as well.”

“I can’t help it. I never thought I’d see you again. And yet here you are, curled up in my arms where you should be.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “It does seem that all is right with the world again, doesn’t it?” She pulled his arms tight around her. “I love you, Michael Allens.”

Hearing those words utterly destroyed what little remained of Michael’s composure. He pulled her even tighter and started bawling. And, as promised, Sarah soon joined him.

After a few minutes, Sarah came back to herself again. “Okay, maybe we just needed to get that out.”

Michael wiped his face. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He chuckled to himself. “Must be a plague. All these world-weary hardened cynical vampires bursting into tears all over the place.” When Sarah looked at him funny, he told her quickly of what happened with Deborah on the night of their reconciliation.

“You’ve been busy, my love.” She observed. “Now, I’m covered from head to toe in spunk and sweat. Whatever happened to us last night must have been one hell of a ride. I’m going to go shower and I’m really hoping I’m not alone in there. I want you to ravage me again and this time I want to remember every last second of it.”

---

What began in the shower continued once again into the bedroom. They spent several hours making love, this time fully in control of their faculties. Eventually, they paused in their affections and just lay there quietly.

Michael thought they’d simply spend the rest of the night curled up next to one another to await the dawn and the sleep that it brought, but Sarah sat up and went to her closet. She dressed quickly in a pair of thong panties and a halter top t-shirt, her back and ass nicely exposed to the world.

“I’m curious about two things. One, why did you get dressed? Two, where on earth did you find a thong in your tiny size?”

“You know the answer to the last, although you may not remember. Nikki still runs her lingerie shop. She’s able to custom order whatever I desire. Thanks to computers, one of my coven can order anything over the Internet for me and it’s at our PO Box in a few days.” She smiled and spanked her ass at him teasingly. She was right. Michael had forgotten about Nikki’s business. For as familiar as Tidewater should have been, Michael was remembering he’d been out of the loop for two years. So much was new and even what he knew before had slipped out of his mind from disuse. If it wasn’t concerning Nightstyles, Michael hadn’t cared to remember.

“As for your first question,” Sarah continued. “I hunger and I would rather be somewhat presentable when I bring one of my herd up here.”

Michael gave her a quizzical look. Sarah had always been of two minds about modesty and it seems that hadn’t changed with everything else. There were moments when she could be as liberated and immodest as anyone Michael had ever met. Other times, she could be exceedingly conservative, even shy, about her body. He hadn’t understood it then and he didn’t understand it now.

“Somewhat presentable?” Michael repeated her language questioningly.

Sarah went to her wall, where he saw a typical calendar was posted. Sarah looked at the date and said a name. “Oh, so he’s on tonight. That’ll be fun. Anyway,” she turned back to Michael, “yes, this is presentable, especially when you want to tease and Braden is as good a victim for that as any.”

She walked over to the door, opened it, and rang a little bell outside. After a few moments, someone came up to the door (Michael couldn’t see who) and Sarah requested Braden. She went back to the bed, sat down on it, and waited.

A knock came a few minutes later. Sarah barked out “Enter” in an imperious tone that chilled even Michael. Braden came into the room and knelt next to the bed. He was a middle-aged man, perhaps late 40s to early 50s. Easily old enough to be Sarah’s father and was perhaps one of his friends back when her dad was still alive.

“Braden is the one who found me in my mother’s grave. The one who figured out that I hadn’t been killed, only sent into torpor.” Said Sarah to Michael. “Braden loves his mistress, doesn’t he?”

“I do.” Replied Braden. Michael heard echoes of the marriage rite in the way the elder witch spoke those two simple words.

“You would do anything for your mistress, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.”

Sarah stood up and ran her hands seductively across her body. “And you would do anything to me, if I allowed it?”

“I would.”

Sarah slid her hand under Braden’s chin and slowly guided him back to his feet. He was a good bit taller than the diminutive vampire and side-by-side they looked more father-and-daughter than ever. Michael caught a glimpse of Sarah’s eyes and saw again the disturbing look of Ernie’s madness.

“You hunger for me, don’t you?” she said to Braden lustfully.

“Yes, mistress Sarah.”

“I hunger for you. Give me your hand.”

Without hesitation, Braden extended his right arm before Sarah. She took hold of it and bit down on his wrist, drawing his life blood into her. After a few moments, Braden crumpled to the floor, passed out from blood loss.

Sarah walked back to the door and summoned her servants again. Michael then stood up and got dressed.

“Where are you going?” Sarah asked him.

“To stretch my legs a bit.” Michael answered, somewhat dishonestly. He’d seen Sarah feed before, but as disturbing as her playing child-predator-bait had been, this ritualized sexual taunting of her coven members was even more so. After witnessing it, the only thing Michael wanted was to get some space. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He added hastily before darting out the door.

There was another reason he’d left. He too was in need of blood, but he didn’t want to risk Braden’s life by stealing a bite himself. Not that he was entirely sure Sarah would share. She might have once, but perhaps not anymore.

Michael summoned Terra to him, sending out his mental impulse to his thrall. It would take the better part of an hour or perhaps more for her to make the trip from Hampton to Chesapeake, so Michael decided to use the time to explore. There was an ulterior motive in that as well. He wanted to find Elizabeth.

He found her in the mansion’s kitchen, prepping what looked to be a breakfast meal: eggs, sausage, bacon, and orange juice. “High protein and sugar for Sarah’s latest meal.” Elizabeth explained when she noticed his curiosity. “Gets them back on their feet faster.”

“You all have this down to a science, don’t you?”

“Necessary to keep her satisfied and well fed while we hide from the Prince.”

“The feeding schedule is necessary. Care for the victim is necessary. Somehow, I don’t think the games she plays with her food are all that necessary.”

“I thought hunting was always a game for kindred.” Retorted Elizabeth. “It always was for her. She loved baiting people with the taboo. How many would bite at the chance to have their way with a sexualized child? How many would sample the forbidden?”

“But she doesn’t do that anymore. No, now she’s turned her mother and father’s coven into her own little cadre of faux child molesters. Toying with them, taunting them, teasing them, taxing the thrall-bond to its very limits to play her taboo game. She’s made your Wicca coven into her own little ‘cult of Sarah.’”

“And that disturbs you?”

“It would you, if your bond to her allowed it.” Michael growled.

“I said there were changes. Some of them are troubling and take some getting used to. Others have proven beneficial. Her visions have kept us safe from her enemies. And they have given you the lover you always wanted her to be.”

“I would love her no matter what.” Michael admitted.

“But you’ve always struggled to desire her. She’s not like the others. Too youthful. Too innocent. Too conservative. Too embarrassing. Too disturbing. Too alien. But she knows you better than you know yourself. She knows what you truly desire and has spent these past two years remaking herself into as close a facsimile of that fantasy as she can. She knew you’d want this, even if you’d never ask. Everything she did, she did for you.”

Michael stood quietly thinking about Elizabeth’s words. “If I may be so bold,” Elizabeth continued. “Your mistake with my sister is forgetting what she is. You love each other, but you let that blind you. She is as much as a monster as you. Eventually, I would think you’ll stop acting so shocked when that side of her comes out. Because come out it will, perhaps now more than ever.”

---

The members of the College coterie surrounded the bier in silence. Some, those closest to the bier, knelt. Others stood towards the back of the room. The only light in the dim chamber was from candles.

Prince Elias Walsh smiled. He’d remembered scenes like this from his mortal days. He’d been a chamberlain in the Vatican and had watched bishops and cardinals hold vigil as the Pope passed from this life to the next. He chuckled to himself in the memory. So many of the trappings of those old ways had made their way to Philadelphia at Thomas Monroe’s insistence. In many ways, they had recreated the Vatican here, only now it was vampires instead of clergy and it was an awakening they held vigil for, not a passing.

Next to the Prince, his childe fidgeted impatiently. “Didi,” Walsh hissed. “Some decorum please. It could be any moment.”

“Or it could be decades.” Growled the redheaded Mehket with annoyance. “He was supposed to awaken in ’74 and it didn’t happen. Another quarter century on and there’s no guarantee that anything will happen tonight.”

Walsh was about to bark out another retort when the large sarcophagus atop the bier suddenly jolted. The crowd of standing onlookers behind the Prince pressed closer, now curious to see if this was indeed the moment. The sarcophagus thumped again and the lid rose slightly before slamming shut again.

“Open it.” Ordered the Prince. “After his long sleep, he’s too weak to rise without aid.” Two vampires of the coterie stepped forward and brought the lid open.

An emaciated form sat up in the sarcophagus. Thomas Monroe looked every bit the same as a withered desiccated mummy from the Egyptian sands. Fifty years of torpor had robbed his body of anything remotely life-like and likely robbed his mind (at least temporarily it was hoped) of anything resembling sanity.

Walsh mused to himself that now would be the perfect time to strike down his sire, if not for the fact that half the room would kill him in turn. Still, Walsh noted one particular absence that night: the one kindred who’d be most eager to avenge anything Walsh might do to Monroe.

“Bring them.” He barked. “His Holiness must feed.”

Two more kindred exited the room and returned immediately with two mortals. One, a young Latino male, hardy and strong, with all the trademark good looks of the breed. The other was a nubile black woman in her twenties. Both were stripped naked and bound in chains. Both were howling and struggling in protest, fear making their voices incoherent. Neither was any match for the two vampires who now dragged them to their fate.

Monroe turned slowly, as if even the most basic of movement was a vast chore in his weakened state. The vampires yanked the two victims to the coffin. The one grabbed up the woman and held her aloft. She continued screaming and fighting, but her captor’s grip was like iron and nothing she did made him yield.

Monroe reached out, snaking his bony fingers through her curly hair. He took hold with a hard grip that surprised the woman enough that she paused in her panic if only for a moment. He opened his mouth, revealing his long fangs, and her panic resumed. With an exaggerated motion, he took her neck into his mouth and bit down hard. Blood sprayed about, but the Beast took hold of the elder vampire and there was no letting go now. He drank and drank and drank some more. The girl struggled for a few seconds more, then twitched once, and lay still in her captors arms.

“I hope he appreciates the effort of finding those two.” Growled Didi under her breath to Walsh. “I was so hoping to have the man for myself.” Walsh silenced her with an annoyed shush.

Some semblance of life returned to Monroe as the blood of the woman flowed through him. His skin remained ashen grey, but his muscles regained some of their lost tone. His face filled out somewhat. Rather than an archaeological relic, he now resembled a typical cadaver one might find in the city morgue; still dead, but no longer mummified.

The young man was offered up next and Monroe took hold of him with equal enthusiasm. Again, he drank until the man’s body lay still. As the last of the blood flowed into his body, Monroe’s color returned. His muscles filled out fully and he stepped out of the coffin.

The two vampires who’d opened the sarcophagus handed him a red robe, which he put on. Monroe found his voice. “How long?”

“Fifty years, your holiness. Longer than you had planned.”

“Fifty?” said Monroe incredulously. “I am like to know nothing of this world. In the last fifty I remember, mortals had conquered the air, fought two great wars, split the atom. The great leaders of the world: Churchill, Truman, Stalin, all now dead and perhaps with them the very nations they ruled. Tell me, Elias, what wonders await me above this chamber?”

“You will have to see that for yourself.” Offered the Prince.

A group of mortals entered at that moment, led by a man in his 70s. “Ah,” said Monroe with delight. “My family has come to see me. Is this…Antino? You are old now. When I last I say you, you were in your prime. A fine young Italian man.”

“It has been a long time, your Holiness.”

“It has.” Monroe turned back to Walsh. “Where is Dylan? Where is my major domo?”

“Absent this night, Your Holiness. No doubt on some errand of great importance. I am quite certain he would not forget that this was to be the night.”

“Great importance indeed for him to not be here awaiting me.” Mused Monroe.

“Your thralls will see to your needs, Your Holiness. I must again return to my duties in running your city. Soon, I will abdicate to allow you to return to your rightful place. But not tonight. You have much catching up to do.”

“Indeed.” Said Monroe. Walsh stepped back and made his way to the far wall.

Alexandros Xanthanopolis had not been in the city when Monroe had begun his slumber. A former Greek intelligence officer, the vampire who acted as Walsh’s sheriff had been run out of his home country after one of its many brutal civil wars. Brutal in large part because of men like Alexandros. Walsh stepped up to him. “Find Dylan. I want to know why he wasn’t here.”

“It will be done.”

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