Random thoughts...

Not much to say, but a bunch of updates...

1) Added another section to the Primer post, this one talking about hunters. It makes sense. Like the mages and the werewolves, they're starting to have a much larger role in Philly by Night than I originally planned. That's fitting, given that Philly is the default city setting for Hunter The Vigil.

2) Updated Emmanuel Noble's portrait in this post. He wasn't quite sinister looking enough for my tastes. (He's still not quite there, but Sims 4 has its limitations.)

3) Act Two of Philly by Night is nearly done being written. I just finished today the chapter I've been looking forward to writing for forever: the inevitable encounter between Michael and Rebecca.

Sims 4 Portraits - The Main Characters

It was only a matter of time before I stopped doing minor and one-shot characters in my Sims 4 experiments. Here's the big guys.

Michael Allens

James "Mitch" Mitchell

Mike "Boar" Boorman

Rebecca Philips

Sarah Cobbler

Solomon Wolfe

Act Two Chapter Eight - Disappointed

Paul slammed his fist hard into Dylan’s jaw, staggering his sire. Dylan backed off and shook the stun out of his head, letting his blood regenerate the massive bruise and broken jaw Paul had just inflicted.

“That was a little too hard. Do try to remember we’re just sparring and that you’re a lot stronger than you were as a human.” He said. “Still, you’ve got one nasty right hook.”

“It almost seems as though I have to learn to hold back more than go all out.”

“If you don’t want to kill…” Dylan’s attention was suddenly diverted to the edge of the city park were they were practicing. A very distraught woman charged out from the trees towards them.

“Is that Kathleen?” Dylan asked.

“I don’t…” Paul began, but then he realized it was her. Her new appearance had astounded him as much as Michael, so much so that he didn’t even recognize her at first.

She reached them and practically threw herself into Paul’s embrace. “He rejected me.” She sobbed out. The rest was hysterical inconsolable crying.

“We can take five.” Said Dylan. He then began to walk away.

Paul tried somewhat futilely to calm Kathleen down. It took a while, but she finally composed herself enough to speak. She told him about all the effort she’d put into making herself beautiful for Michael, of how she’d pleaded with him, of how she’d confessed her love to him, none of which swayed him to claim her as his own.

Paul said nothing, merely listened. His feelings were ambivalent. He was angry that Michael had hurt her, but also rather glad that he’d not snatched her out from under him. Yeah, Paul finally admitted to himself, he had more than just a soft spot for her. He wanted her and the new look only made the his physical attraction to her more pronounced. He’d always liked her, but now…wow.

He tried to keep those thoughts and emotions from showing, fearing that would only make Kathleen’s distress worse.

“It’s all about Sarah.” Kathleen snarled, her grief giving way to anger. “Maybe I should just kill her. I am a vampire now. That is what we do. Kill people who get in our way. I could burn that fucking house down with her inside. Let the little flatchested bitch roast to death.”

Paul was mildly disturbed by this sudden shift in Kathleen’s tone. “Now wait a minute, you can’t mean any of that. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I will win him. If I have to get her out of the way, then I will find a way to do it.”

“Kathleen, you’re not making sense. Do you honestly think he’ll come running to your arms if you murder the one he loves?”

“What choice will he have?”

“Julia, this Rebecca chick everyone keeps talking about. You’re a long way from the front of that line.” Paul reasoned in his mind. But Kathleen wasn’t interested in reason. Still, Paul couldn’t see any other way to get through to her. “There are lots of choices for him, Kathleen. There are already at least two others besides you waiting in the wings. He could embrace another childe on top of that. You’re not thinking straight. This isn’t the way to win him.”

“Then how do I do it? Help me.” She pleaded.

“I don’t want to.” Said Paul, surprised at his own forthrightness.

“He won’t let me alone if I don’t succeed.”

Ernie again. Paul frowned and stuck to his guns. “Forget about your sire.” He growled. “Not only does Michael have choices, but so do you. Others…” he began hesitantly. Did he really want to admit this now? “…who would gladly be with you.”

“And who are they?” she asked incredulously. He thought he was being obvious, but Kathleen’s lack of social nuance made her oblivious to his clues.

Paul was about to answer when Dylan rejoined them. “We are not alone.” Dylan warned ominously.

Seven figures in black fatigues emerged on the far side of the park. They were armed, nearly all their faces concealed by helmets and tactical masks. They looked like a police SWAT team, but the one whose face was not concealed said this was no truly law enforcement squad. Alexandros, the city sheriff, was leading the group.

“That’s the sheriff.” Said Paul, stating what was undoubtedly obvious to Dylan. “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know, but it would good to find out.” Dylan began to walk towards Alexandros.

“So what business of Walsh brings you to Conshohocken, Alex?” Dylan called out as he and the group approached one another.

“I’m not here for the Prince and neither are you.” Alexandros growled. With lightning speed, he drew out an old medieval broadsword from off his back and plunged the blade into Dylan’s chest. The six fatigued soldiers began to charge towards Paul and Kathleen.

“Run!” Dylan cried out. His hands morphed into jagged claws and he slashed across Alexandros’s face. The Ventrue sheriff staggered back, pulling the sword free as he did so.

Paul grabbed Kathleen by the hand and began to run. Bullets whipped through the air around them as they did so, but no gunfire reports. Silenced commando-style submachine guns. Top of the line military gear. Alexandros was here to kill.

One of the commandos found his mark and landed a half dozen rounds into Kathleen’s back. She twitched and let go of Paul’s hand, dropping into the grass.

“No!” barked Paul. He turned and went for her, making himself a more easy target. Bullets tore into his flesh now as well, but he kept upright.

“I’ll be alright.” Growled Kathleen as she came back to her feet. “Go!”

They dashed out of the park, through the trees, and onto the street beyond. As he ran, Paul picked up a good-sized rock from the floor of the woods. When they emerged onto the street, he whipped the rock at a nearby street light, shattering it and plunging the street into darkness.

“What was that for?” Kathleen asked as Paul pulled her down to hide behind a parked car.

“They can’t see in the dark like we can.” Or at least he hoped they couldn’t. With those guns, they probably had night vision goggles as well.

The troops emerged from the woods. Paul heard the barely audible click of flashlights coming on and saw the beams begin to cut across the air around them. Good, they lacked night vision after all.

“This is an odd play for the sheriff.” Paul muttered under his breath, barely above a whisper but he knew Kathleen could hear him. “We haven’t done anything.”

“He’ll kill us and say we provoked it to the Prince.” Explained Kathleen. “Or he’ll kill Dylan and go back and say we did it. Who’s the Prince going to believe anyway? Regardless, we, Michael and all the rest of us, are making an enemy tonight. Presuming we survive.”

Paul was impressed. He hadn’t realized Kathleen had such a devious and strategic mind. But Kathleen wasn’t done.

Just as one of the commandos reached the opposite side of the car from them, Kathleen popped up. “You! Shoot him!”

The mesmeric power of the Ventrue took hold of the soldier and he turned his weapon on his partner, opening fire and killing him immediately. Paul didn’t hesitate. He sprang out from behind the car to tackle the enchanted soldier. A quick twist and the man’s neck snapped clean.

“Nicely done.” Said Paul, snatching up the soldier’s gun. He’d been right about it. An MP5SD gun like that used by the Navy Seals and other special forces. Its integral silencer made it one of the quietest weapons ever built.

Kathleen gathered up the other soldier’s gun. Now they were armed, but neither was well trained in their use. Paul had to admit that he’d only ever fired his grandfather’s shotguns and hunting rifles before, never a military grade weapon like this. He was also quite certain Kathleen had never fired any kind of gun before. He hoped they’d be quick learners.

“Come on. Let’s take the fight to them.” He said. He took two steps before he felt like something hit him in the chest. It was not a bullet or a weapon. Just a feeling. A raw empty hollow feeling within, like someone had gone in and scooped everything inside him out. He stumbled back and dropped back down behind the car.

“Are you alright?” She asked. “You look sick.”

“Dylan is dead.” He said. He didn’t quite know how, but he knew that’s what this sick feeling meant. He’d sensed his sire’s demise.

“There!” they heard a voice. Bullets zipped about them again. Paul yanked Kathleen down behind the car with him. Cars were not usually good cover against military firearms, despite what TV programs often depicted. But 9mm rounds were not quite powerful enough to penetrate an engine block, so they had some protection.

They also had another advantage. Vampires were largely bulletproof. He gritted his teeth and stood up. Bullets tore into him as the commandos found their target, but he ignored them and returned fire. A single burst took down the leftmost soldier of the pair and then Paul dropped back behind cover.

“Got one.”

Kathleen opened fire…under the car. Her burst was followed up by a howl of pain and the thump of a body hitting the pavement. “Me too.” She grinned.

That hadn’t killed the soldier, of course. Paul broke cover, ran up, and gave the wounded man a solid kick to the face. The blow, much like his punch to Dylan earlier, crushed bone and finished him off.

Paul took a moment to look the soldier over. His black fatigues strongly resembled a Police SWAT uniform, but without any identifying markings like department badges, rank insignia, or nameplate.

“Are they police?” Kathleen asked. She, as an assistant medical examiner, knew damn well what killing cops would bring down on them.

“I doubt it. Paramilitary. Mercenaries of some sort would be my guess.”

A loud shotgun blast interrupted them. Kathleen dropped backwards, her clothing and chest shredded by the buckshot. In that moment, Paul lost his mind. The Beast took over.

When he came back to himself, he was in the middle of the dismembered bodies of the last two commandos, the taste of their blood on his mouth. Kathleen was back on her feet, her vicious wound thankfully regenerated.

“What the hell was that?” she asked, a hint of fear on her voice.

“I think that’s what they call a frenzy.” Paul panted. “I saw you go down and I just lost it.”

“We’ve still got the Sheriff to deal with.”

“He killed Dylan. What the hell can we do to him?”

“Indeed.” And there he was, sword in hand. He grabbed Kathleen and made to swing, a blow that would probably cut her in half if it landed.

Paul dove for the shotgun and with lightning reflexes, brought it around. He fired somewhat blindly, but the blast hit the sword and shattered it.

“This is my boomstick!” he cried out, remembering a similar scene in a movie. He fired again. This time, the buckshot tore Alexandros across the chest, neck, and jaw. He staggered and let Kathleen go.

Kathleen dashed over to Paul and grabbed him, yanking him to his feet. Already, Alexandros had healed nearly all of that brutal wound. He could regenerate far faster than either of them, a benefit of his age and power. They ran.

“How can we kill that?” Paul panted as they fled south down the street as fast as they could go.

“We need a weapon that can injure him.” She mused.

“Fire? Sunlight? Where are we going to find those in the middle of the night?” He spun about to fire the shotgun again at the pursuing Alexandros. The shot hit home, knocking the sheriff off his feet and giving them a moment.

“Don’t waste you ammo. We’ll need it.” Kathleen stopped abruptly next to another parked car, an old 80s vintage Crown Vic. She grabbed the door handle. It was locked.

“What are you doing?” Paul asked. Kathleen didn’t answer, but merely willed all her remaining strength and the power of her blood into that door. It ripped off.

“Fuck me.” Paul said with astonishment.

“Get in!” she barked. “We have only a few seconds.”

Paul jumped in and slid to the passenger side. Kathleen followed and immediately ripped the cover off the steering column.

“You can hotwire?”

“I read too damn much.” She admitted. The car came to life. She twisted the wheel and tore out of the parking space, just as Alexandros reached them. She slammed the huge car right into him and carried him along with them into the row of cars across the street, pinning him in place.

“Now! Finish him.” Yelled Kathleen.

“How?”

“Blow his fucking head off!”

Paul jumped out, rammed the shotgun into Alexandros’ face, and pulled the trigger. The point blank shot exploded through his flesh, sending bits of brain, blood, and bone everywhere. Where was little left of Alexandros’ head when the smoke cleared. He turned to dust a few seconds later.

“We did it.” Said Paul, relief washing over him like a wave.

“This isn’t over.” She said. “The submachine guns were quiet, but that shotgun was not. Let’s get the hell out of here because the real cops are bound to be on their way.”

They ran, leaving the wrecked cars where they were, as well as the six bodies of the commandos. They ran for Michael’s haven and hammered on the door. Julia opened it, weapon in hand, a look of anxious readiness on her face.

“Where’s Michael?” Paul demanded.

“Here.” Michael emerged from his office. He looked the two of them over. Their clothes were shredded and they were covered in blood and powder residue.

“We have a new problem.” Said Paul.

---

Walsh was in his study, pouring over the ledgers for church donations when Didi and Caine walked inside.

“I have to admit.” Walsh admitted. “I’ve been looking for a distraction. The Church is not making the money it once did. Damn scandals are ruining our profit margins.”

“I fear the news I bring, your Eminence, will not make you any happier.” Said Caine.

“Out with it.”

“It appears Michael Allens is far more aggressive and far more foolish than we anticipated. He’s made his next move.”

“Already? He’s hasn’t fully gained control of Villanova and Bryn Mawr yet.”

“Regardless, Alexandros is dead.”

“Impossible.” Snarled Walsh incredulously.

“I’m afraid Caine speaks the truth.” Added Didi.

“Bring me Dylan. The Hound will deal with this outrage.”

“Dylan is dead as well.” Admitted Didi. “Killed in the same attack. This is a direct attack on your sovereignty. Two officers of the court murdered in a single night.”

“The damned novice fool thinks this will intimidate me?” said Walsh, rage creeping into his voice. “Fine. Let us show him just what it means to be Prince. Let the word go forth, to every coterie and every kindred of this city. Michael Allens and his allies are anathema. They are condemned. They shall find no succor, no shelter, no aid at all from any kindred of this city. They are to be hunted down and destroyed to the last. I declare a blood hunt.”

“As you wish, your Eminence.” Didi looked at Caine and the two shared a sinister smile with one another.

---

Michael was packing up his most necessary belongings from the computer room, all the stuff he considered he couldn’t live without. The doorbell rang and Michael swiftly snatched up his Beretta pistol and katana to answer it.

Sarah emerged from their bedroom as he advanced on the door. “The people after us are not going to ring the doorbell.” She reminded him calmly. She slid past him, walked to the door, and opened it.

It was Boar. He stepped inside. “Solomon and Damian just arrived. They’re coming up behind me. Mitch is about 5 minutes away. Should I go fetch Paul and Kathleen?”

“Do so.” Barked Michael. Boar darted back out.

By the time he returned with Paul and Kathleen, all were assembled: Boar, Mitch, Damian, Solomon, Paul, Kathleen, Julia, Sarah, and Michael. All those now under condemnation from the Prince.

“Well, it’s confirmed.” Said Damian as everyone gathered into the living room of Michael’s apartment. “The Prince has officially called a blood hunt on all of us.” He looked at Mitch and Boar. “Or at least all of us kindred.”

“Somehow, I doubt those coming for us are going to be all that discriminating.”

“Well, the Masquerade still needs to be maintained.” Michael emphasized. “So running gun battles like what Paul and Kathleen had last night are going to be few and far between.”

“If so, then why did Alexandros come after us like that?” asked Paul. He hovered tightly near Kathleen. His feelings for her had become far more intense after their shared near-death experience and he was no longer even remotely trying to hide them. Kathleen, however, still appeared oblivious to them.

“This was a setup.” Explained Michael. “He was probably just a tool of someone else who tricked him into seeing us as an imminent threat. He was meant to die. The fact that he took out Dylan as well only gave his minders even more ammunition to use against us. We’ve been framed.”

“I get how we’ve been set up as scapegoats here.” Paul continued. “What I don’t get is what’s behind that. Why attack us? We’ve threatened nobody except the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Not entirely.” Interjected Solomon. “I've since learned that Bala Cynwyd was Alexandros’s hunting ground. He knew he was next on our list.”

“That seems premature, if not paranoid, for him to strike at us so.” Said Sarah.

“It got him killed.” Added Julia. “Obviously wasn’t very smart.”

“As I said,” replied Michael. “Someone set him up. Probably added some fuel to the fire, something that necessitated a more direct response.”

“And I can guess who was behind that.” Added Mitch. “The Consilium mages are very concerned about collusion between certain vampires and the Brotherhood. This is retaliation for Professor Noble.”

“Walsh and the Brotherhood? That’s scary.” Said Sarah.

“It doesn’t need to be the Prince himself, just someone in some position of authority and trust.” Said Damian. “Although it would be rather convenient for Walsh to be on board with whatever this alliance is.”

“All this speculation is moot right now.” Said Boar. He looked at Michael. “They’re coming for us. What are we going to do?”

“Well, if Prince Elias Walsh wants a fight, then I’m plenty inclined to give him one.” Answered Damian. “However, in order for me to do that, I would need to rally some of my resources. That means a brief trip out of town to visit some friends in Washington.”

“I’m a nomad.” Said Solomon. “Easy thing for me to leave town as well.”

“We can’t all do that.” Said Michael. “If we all flee, we admit defeat.”

“Staying out in the open is going to get us killed however.” Said Sarah.

“We go to ground." said Michael emphatically. "We stay put, but we hide. Break off into smaller groups so Walsh and his allies can waste all their energy trying to find us.”

“How small?” asked Paul.

“No one solo, but more than three is probably too many. I’d say we pair up or as close as we can manage.”

“I can probably hide out a pair of us with my new werewolf pack.” Offered Boar. “We’re semi-mobile. We’re tricky to track and if someone does find us, I doubt they’ll be eager to deal with eight snarling-mad werewolves.”

“Michael, that should be you.” Said Julia emphatically. “The best protection.”

“No,” Michael replied. “Send Paul and Kathleen to the werewolves. They’re the weakest and least experienced.”

“Appreciate the offer.” Said Paul, “but is that wise?”

“Yes, because I’m going to hope that Mitch can make a similar offer with his new mage friends.” Said Michael. “We may be hiding, but I want to know more about this Brotherhood alliance and the best way to do that is to get closer to those who understand the Brotherhood best.”

“I can try,” replied Mitch. “but I don’t have the authority over the mages the way Boar does with his wolves.”

“I have every confidence in you.”

“What about me?” asked Julia.

“Solomon. Go with him.” Michael looked at Solomon as he said that to her, gauging his reaction. The big Gangrel merely nodded his assent.

“As you wish.” Said Julia.

“We’ll keep in touch via cellphone. Our primary goal while we’re hiding is to gain enough leverage against the Prince to get him to rescind the Blood Hunt against us. That means…” He looked at Damian. “…we can either make ourselves too big a threat to challenge so directly or…” He looked at Mitch. “…we can uncover the depths of this plot between the vampires and the Brotherhood mages. Leverage is our goal. Anything that can be used to force the Prince’s hand is going to be of use. Good luck.”

---

Boar drove his truck down into a dark wooded part of Fairmount Park. “We had to break camp for a few days after the Ashwood Abbey came calling. They shot up the camp and tried to put the scare on us, but we chased them off. Now we’re back…for now. These guys are skittish. I’m working on trying to get their guts back, their courage.”

“What does this have to do with us?” asked Paul.

“You’re going to help me. We’re going to train. We’re going to spar. We’re going to show these wolves how to be hunters again. Fierce and terrifying. That’ll be how you’ll earn your keep and occupy your time until Michael calls us all back together.”

“A vampire teaching a bunch of werewolves how to fight? That’s funny.”

“How do we know they won’t just tear us to pieces?” asked Kathleen nervously.

“Because I won’t let them.” Said Boar firmly. “You’ll have to trust me. Michael does.”

The headlights flashed onto a makeshift camp a few hundred yards into the woods from where they entered. Paul had much the same assessment of the camp as Boar had when he first saw it: a homeless shanty town. Boar killed the engine and the lights and got out.

“Welcome home.” Said Cortez.

“I brought friends.” Said Boar as Paul and Kathleen disembarked.

Cortez sniffed. “They ain’t human.”

“I told you I had friends. Some of them are vampires. This is Paul and Kathleen. I’ve brought them here to help me toughen you up.”

“We don’t need their kind of help.”

“I’m the one who says that, Cortez, or did you forget that you surrendered your authority as Alpha? Are you going to challenge for it back or just piss yourself again at the thought of facing me?”

Cortez snarled, a very animal gesture for a werewolf in human form. But he made no further sign of defiance.

“Gather the pack. We’ll meet in the field.” ordered Boar. Cortez walked away dutifully.

“Friendly fellow.” Commented Paul sarcastically.

“Cortez is the former Alpha. He’s a mite passive-aggressive, but he’s also my problem. You don’t need to worry about him.”

Paul and Kathleen followed Boar through the camp out towards a large open clearing beyond. Already, a number of people were beginning to gather there. Paul guessed at least a dozen; some were hanging back while others were front and center. About 50/50 split. Paul guessed that was the divide between “master” and “servant,” or more specifically between real werewolves and their human friends and family.

Boar let off a loud howl; like Cortez’s snarl, it seemed odd to hear such an animal sound from a human body. That brought the disparate group to pay him attention. “When I assumed the mantle of leadership, I promised there would be changes.” He began in a loud and commanding voice. “I said to you that I would make your strong again, that I would make fighters of you and give you back your courage. I also said that I had allies, people who would help us. Tonight all that begins. I have with me two such allies, two vampires that have come to us.

“The test is simple. Vampires are stronger and swifter than mortals. If you can match one in battle, you can defeat a human. If you can overpower one, then no human being is even remotely close to your equal.”

“This is not a good idea.” Paul whispered to Kathleen. “I’m not a fighter and you’re even less of one than I am.”

“I won’t break that easily.” She retorted. “I am kindred and what Boar is saying is true…for both of us.”

“Paul, Kathleen, step forward.” Boar commanded. Paul stepped up beside Boar and Kathleen followed. Boar looked over his pack. “Who goes first?”

“I will.” Said Janice, stepping forward. Paul’s eyes grew wide. “Hello, brother.”

---

The initial shock of the family reunion passed quickly as Janice made good on her promise to be “the first.” She immediately shifted to wolf-man form and launched a ferocious attack on Paul, coupled with verbal taunts and insults the likes of which even her packmates had never heard. All sorts of angry commentary about “How dare you follow me” and “You’re not the boss of me.” Boar eventually had to pull them apart. Whatever family squabble had been renewed here tonight, he couldn’t let it interfere with his plan to toughen up his pack.

Janice’s aggression, regardless of its source, proved rather valuable however. As she launched fearlessly into an assault on her brother, the anxiety the rest of the pack showed towards attacking two vampires vanished almost immediately. Those animal instincts inside each of them took over and they began to find their confidence again.

True to her word, Kathleen held her own against her opponents. It was clear pretty early on that neither Paul nor Kathleen had much formal training in hand-to-hand fighting, but they were vampires. Strong and fast and the werewolves soon learned that to their detriment. More than a few underestimated them and found themselves nursing bruised ribs and broken bones. Those wounds healed quickly enough, but the pain of them taught some valuable lessons as well.

After a few hours, Boar called an end to the sparring. The werewolves were tired and worn-out, but already you could see the return of some of their ferocity. They were starting to realize they could take the offensive after so long of being on the run from both hunters and other werewolves. Paul and Kathleen were a little worse for wear too. They took off into the woods to find prey of their own to satisfy their own appetites.

“This might just work.” Boar mused aloud to no one in particular. He’d taken a seat around the central campfire.

“Yes, it just might.” Came an answer. Boar looked up to see Natasha, the Gypsy woman he’d met the first day he’d come to the camp. He hadn’t seen her since that day and he hadn’t realized that she was there tonight until now. “You seem surprised.”

“My life has been full of surprises. My vampire allies sent me to find any werewolf pack I could and to make friends. Neither they nor I ever expected I would take charge. I have no leadership experience. I’m no master strategist. I’m just making this up as I go along…and it’s working…so far.”

Natasha laughed. “You might be surprised to learn that most leaders would say the same thing about themselves. Confidence is worth more than experience and knowledge in this regard. They follow you because you’re not afraid.”

“Well, while we’re on the topic of fearlessness,” said Boar smoothly, “I’m curious to find out what I could do to get you into bed with me.”

Natasha laughed again. “This is what I love about living among uratha. You don’t mince words. No games. No bullshit. I love the honesty.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, I didn’t. I’d rather you try to figure that out for yourself.”

“I thought you said you didn’t like games and bullshit.”

“I’m not uratha.” She retorted with a smile.

“Good point.” Conceded Boar. He scratched his chin and put on a thoughtful look, as if trying to unlock the mystery of this beautiful woman across from him. “Now Cortez admitted…”

“Don’t assume that what he did is what will work for you.” Corrected Natasha mildly. “Or that what I wanted from him is what I might want from you.”

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Is it supposed to be?” she replied flippantly.

Now it was Boar’s turn to smile and laugh. He had her already and he could tell. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, but she wasn’t going to just give in. Why then the game? There was something else to it that Boar couldn’t put his finger on. But if he had to play, he was going to play to win.

“Alright, very well.” Said Boar. “A mystery it is and like any good detective, I’m going to have to investigate to learn the secret.” He shifted posture, paradoxically getting more intense and more relaxed at the same time. “So why are you here? What’s your connection to all of this?”

“My father, Sergei, used to be one of the greatest alphas in Eastern Pennsylvania. His pack roamed from Philadelphia to Scranton, 70 strong. My mother lived in Allentown. You know how werewolf families are. Unless the mated couple is somehow already a part of this world, you end up with a lot of broken homes and mine was typical. Father showed up to make a baby and then vanished again. Growing up, I never knew why Mother always let him back in. But then my younger brother, Milosh, wanted to run away from home. He’d had his first change and Father came to him to get to join the pack. Milosh told me all this. He told me everything. So when Father came for him, I asked to go along too. I wasn’t going to let my kid brother out into the wider world alone.”

“You’re close to him?”

“Very.” She pointed off to her left into the darkness. “He’s right over there. Still together, nearly 10 years later. Mother knew all along, what Father really was, but never said anything. And now she knows what Milosh is and she respects our decision to live in this world instead of the mortal one.”

“Respects, but isn’t all that happy about it.”

“What parent ever finds giving up their children easy? Truth is, I'm sure she's convinced that my father's fate will be ours. Father was killed about five years ago and his pack disintegrated. We scattered. Milosh and I wandered about until we found this pack here, the only one that would accept us. They hoped, I think, that I would be uratha as well, but that never happened. No first change for me, I'm just a human, kintouched, but just human.

"So while my brother ran with the pack, I found work. Put myself through school. Became a legal secretary and worked for a non-profit that advocates for the homeless of the city. Met a lot of people. Made a lot of contacts. That’s why the police don’t hassle the pack about the camp. The cops assigned this beat are friends of mine. So that’s my story. What’s yours?”

“Well,” Boar began. “there’s a lot similar. No dad growing up. Not all that unusual in a black household in the inner city. But I was lucky. I was smart and talented and got into school. Met my two best friends there: Michael and Mitch. And as fate would have it, we all got changed at almost the exact same time. My first change into uratha. Michael was embraced as a vampire and Mitch became a wizard. Ever since then, we’ve kind of been orbiting one another, moving in and out of each other’s circles, getting caught up in each other’s schemes. It’s had its advantages. I know more about their kind that probably any other werewolf. It also let me meet people like Paul and Kathleen and call upon their help when needed.”

“You’ve already admitted you came to us on a vampire’s errand." observed Natasha. "An uratha that associates with vampires and mages is a rare thing indeed. I’m guessing however that you’ve spent the last few years more around their kind than your own. The question is why. For all of our squabbles and disagreements, a pack is family. Our bonds are strong. What would make you forsake that to take up with others as you have?”

Suddenly, Boar wasn’t so eager to play this game. Natasha was very perceptive, dangerously so. Somehow, she’d sensed there was something that had kept him apart from werewolf society for a very long time. That something, of course, was Ami Janes, the young werewolf he’d fallen in love with and gotten pregnant, a high crime in uratha society. As a result, Boar had been exiled and Ami was hunted down and killed. Boar would later return and wreak terrible vengeance upon his pack, slaughtering nearly all of them with help from Michael and Mitch.

“I found those bonds among my friends." Boar answered slowly. "That fellowship and family you speak of exist between myself and Mitch and Michael. My pack, the one into which I was inducted after my first change, proved much less welcoming than they did.”

“I’m not accustomed to hearing evasion from an uratha’s mouth.”

“This conversation began with a talk of fearlessness. Time to be fearless now.” Boar reasoned. “I mated with another uratha.” He blurted out hurriedly. “I fell in love with one of my own kind.”

“And she got pregnant.”

“And they killed her. I ran away. I escaped,” Illia iacta est, “but I came back. I came back with my friends, with vampires and mages, and I made them pay for it. My first pack… died. Nearly all of them for what they did. The rest, the tiny handful that survived, scattered into the night.”

Natasha looked at him without speaking for several minutes. Boar stared back, also not speaking. He would not back down. He was not ashamed of what he’d done. It was justice, the righting of a wrong and a righteous punishment inflicted upon those who’d murdered Ami. If anything, the emotion he felt in that moment was anger, awoken all over again at what his own people had done to someone he’d loved.

“You would move heaven and earth for those that you love.” Natasha admitted, breaking the silence at last. “And God help anyone who dared harm them.”

“Yeah,” Boar said. “I guess so.”

“I was right about you.” She said. “You’re the very person we need. Cortez became alpha because he had to; he never wanted to be leader. But someone like you, who can truly love this pack and fight for it like you did for your dead lover, that’s a different story.” She paused. “I suppose my next question brings us back to the beginning of this conversation. You asked what it would take to get me into your bed. Is that all you really want? I gave that to Cortez, because it was fun. I was lonely, he was stressed, and it served as a nice outlet for the both of us. But I’m not going to pretend and I doubt he would either that there was anything real between us.”

“He did seem quick to give you up.”

“Because I was never truly his. But I could be yours…like she was.”

Boar could feel his own heart pound when Natasha admitted that. Was that really what he wanted? He’d never really been quite as enthusiastic for libertinism as Mitch and Michael had been. Sure, he’d had a few rolls-in-the-hay with Michael’s harem. (Who hadn’t in their circle of friends?) But, just like what Natasha had described with Cortez, there was nothing of substance or meaning there. It was just fun sex, nothing more.

“You scare me, Natasha.” Boar admitted.

“Why?”

“You figured me out way too easily. That you could tell my first question was really facetious and I was genuinely hoping for a lot more is really scary.”

“It’s a gift. Call it Gypsy intuition. You know our reputation. Always looking for a score and finding the people most vulnerable to our schemes. I guess I just pegged you as an easy mark.” She smiled at his discomfort. “I’m good at reading people. Whether or not that has anything to do with a prejudiced stereotype of my ethnicity is anyone’s guess. It makes for a nice story at least.”

She paused and then spoke again, more seriously. “Michael,” she said, using Boar’s real first name (which he almost never did), “we both want the same thing. Someone to spend the rest of our lives with. Now I don’t know any better than you do if that will work out in the long run between us. But the person I’ve gotten to know, both directly and indirectly, over the past week is the sort of person I could see by my side for the rest of my days. If you’ll have me. If you’ll give this a try with me.”

“You know,” Boar said with a sly grin. “there’s something funny about this. Most couples that come together are secretly hoping, without much evidence, that the person they’re with might, just maybe, be that one. But it’s all a big secret. You never admit that openly on a first date or first encounter unless you’re a crazy person. We just did. We just broke that taboo.”

“You’re uratha. Honesty and forthrightness is in your nature. As I said, it’s what I like about your kind.”

Next Chapter

Philly by Night Portrait Project Part Four

Feels weird calling this part four, given the three "mystery" portrait galleries that have also gone up to show up my Sims 4 creations. Regardless, this is the fourth scheduled Portrait post that was meant to go up after the big "romance" chapter in Act Two. I've made two additions, new characters that I did up in Sims 4. The rest of these are older portraits done in Sims 2.

Cortez Molina
Alpha of the North Fairmount werewolf pack, Cortez is impressed by Boar's prowess and fearlessness.

Lynne Hawkins
The leader of the "true believers" in the Villanova Wicca coven. Victim of Emmanuel Noble and now soon-to-be thrall of Sarah Cobbler.

Thaddeus Zao
The Hierarch of the Consilium mages, Thaddeus hasn't actually made his debut just yet, but plenty of people have been talking about him.

Regulus Noble
The brother to the sinister Emmanuel and the Hierarch of the Dark Brotherhood.

Didi Myers
Another VTES card come to life, Didi is the childe of Elias Walsh and not nearly so smooth and seductive as she believes herself to be.

Caine Morganti
A mysterious Nosferatu and ally of Didi. What role will he play in the story? Well, you'll just have to wait and see.

Act Two Chapter Seven - Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover

“I have never felt so humiliated.”

Didi Myers walked into the lounge and tossed her purse unceremoniously onto a nearby loveseat. “I completely blew my seduction of that whelp.”

The Nosferatu at the piano plunked out a few notes before responding. “Your first mistake is the word ‘whelp.’” He said quietly.

“I know that now. A whole lot of good it does me, Caine.”

“You heard what Monroe said about him at court. His list of accomplishments.”

“No novice kindred can do what he did without help. Without patronage from an elder of some kind.”

“And if that patronage took the form of tutelage?” interjected Caine. “What if his minders molded him and taught him to anticipate these sorts of political maneuvers? He’s a Daeva and Lucy Bonneville’s grandchilde. Did that never enter your calculus that he would see through an obvious attempt at seduction? Or did it never enter your mind that he would not find you quite so appealing as his other conquests?”

“I will not be called ugly by a Nosferatu.”

Caine’s appearance was typical of his clan. Human enough, but off somehow. In his case, he had a Neanderthal-like skull and elongated (almost pointed) ears. Despite the defiant insult, Caine’s tone remained neutral.

“And there’s your problem. Arrogance. You failed to check your ego at the door, came on with all the subtlety of a rampaging bull, and turned him off at the onset. Tried to convince him you were the catch of the century when he could clearly see that you were not. He may be Daeva and lust may be his weakness, but vulgarity is not the strategy to use with this one. His lover has the body of a child. How did she land him, do you suppose?”

“Sympathy.”

“And now the epiphany comes but too late.” Said Caine. “Regulus will not be pleased that you failed.”

“I cannot return to him without his brother unavenged.”

“Since you seem to lack the finer points of subtlety, why bother with seduction at all? We can guess his next target. He’ll move east into Bala Cynwyd. You know whose hunting grounds those are, I presume.”

“Alexandros will not act without the Prince’s leave.”

“He will if he thinks his turf is threatened. Go to him. I think you’ll find him easier to persuade that Allens. Let us throw caution to the wind and break out the big guns.”

“And if the Sheriff fails?”

“Do you truly think Walsh will merely stand by and allow Allens to kill an officer of the court? No, either Alexandros will rid us of Michael Allens or Michael Allens will call down a blood hunt upon himself. Either way, we win.”

---

Mitch walked into the classroom and parked himself in the front row. The professor, who could not have had a more British name than “Reginald Skelmsdale,” gave him an odd look, but said nothing. He then began his lecture.

The subject was Physics 101. The venue was Temple University and today’s topic was elementary kinetics. After a brief demonstration of Newton’s laws of motion with a few billiard balls on the front table, the professor moved to the mathematics of it all, scribbling equations onto the blackboard in a frantic pace. Most of the students were of one of two minds: they were either frantically trying to keep up or frantically trying to not fall asleep (and many were failing miserably at that.)

The clock struck the hour after what seemed to be several and the class filed out. Mitch stayed put. Dr. Skelmsdale began cleaning up his effects when he looked at Mitch.

“You are not one of my normal students.” He commented.

“No,” Mitch replied. “But I heard on good authority you were the man to see about where to find people with peculiar talents.”

“You mean talents like this?” He reached out his hand. One of the billiard balls shot away from the table of its own accord and landed neatly in the professor’s hand.

“Yeah. Like that.”

The professor smiled. “Had you not been an awakened soul, it would have been much harder to move the ball. Unbelief is always a barrier to be overcome. But I knew that old Jedi trick would be easy in front of you. I sensed your power when I first saw you. You’re James Mitchell, aren’t you?”

“My reputation precedes me, I suppose.”

“More the Consilium has very good diviners. We knew a new mage had come to the city and we knew you’d soon seek us out. We were pleased about that. We’re always worried when a new wizard comes to town or a new one awakens whether they will align with us or with them.” He gave the last word an intimidating gravitas; no need for Mitch to guess who he was referring to.

Skelmsdale continued. “We were particularly worried about you. After all, we weren’t quite certain what to think about the company you keep. Vampires are fascinating creatures as are werewolves, but neither are terribly well known for playing well with others.”

“This one does.” Said Mitch confidently.

“If it serves his purpose.” Added Skelmsdale with equal confidence.

“Well, one of ‘them’ is now on the run from mortal authorities thanks to the mechanizations of my colleague. He’s done you a favor.” Replied Mitch. “And yes, it served his purpose, but it also serves yours.”

Skelmsdale’s look was ambivalent. “And I suppose you’ve now come to call in that favor.”

“I suppose you could see it that way, but I’d much rather we acted in good faith rather than in cynicism. I came to talk, to learn, and to offer what aid I might to you and yours. Diplomacy. A fair exchange. We share a common enemy.”

“An enemy your people have deliberately provoked.” Skelmsdale looked strict at first, but then softened and laughed. “It’s long overdue. The Brotherhood is up to something. Our diviners cannot discern what it is, but many of us are worried. All, that is except the Hierarch. He is content to sit tight and do nothing. Too content for many of us.”

Things among the wizards must have been tense indeed for Skelmsdale to reveal that secret so readily. He continued. “We have the advantage for the first time in decades and we do not press the attack.”

“Worried about the hunters?”

“I do not know the Hierarch’s mind, but he’s afraid of something. The hunters? The Brotherhood? The vampires taking advantage? Or the changelings? Who knows? But Thaddeus Zao sits and waits.”

“Why not take independent action?”

“That is not our way and you know that. But outside forces may soon force our hand, as you and yours are demonstrating. The Brotherhood is weak, far weaker than their reputation claims. If we do not move soon, it will be your vampire friend who benefits entirely from their demise. Why should we be denied part of the prize?”

“Well, it seems I’ve come to the right person at the right time.”

“There is a protocol to follow. I can bring your offer of ‘diplomacy,’ as you put it, to our leadership. However, until such time as they choose to respond, it may be of benefit for you to join our ranks…on a probationary basis. Like an associate member of our fellowship. It’ll give you a chance to get to know some of us and we you. Surely that would make your diplomatic efforts easier.”

There was logic in that, although Mitch sensed Skelmsdale had an ulterior motive in that. It was a subtle offer of recruitment. Mitch, perhaps against his better judgment, called him out for it. “Can a man serve two masters?”

Skelmsdale smiled at the Biblical quotation and did not seem bothered in the least that his recruitment attempt was made transparent. “To be a diplomat,” he replied. “one must stand in the gap between two masters and try to bridge them together. You are already there, Mr. Mitchell, always being pulled in two directions. You are friends with this vampire and I do not begrudge you all the joys and benefits of true friendship. But you are also a mage and will never truly be a part of his world.”

Skelmsdale fished into the inner pocket of his tweed jacket and brought out what looked like a ticket. He handed it to Mitch. “A coupon.” He offered. “Perhaps you’d like to see an exhibit or two at our fine science museum.”

Mitch looked at the ticket. “Admit one. Daily entry. Franklin Institute.”

---

Mitch found himself an hour later in front of the Foucault pendulum in the center of the Franklin Institute science museum. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here, but he suspected strongly that Skelmsdale had sent him here to meet someone; the next step in getting to know the Consilium mages of Philadelphia.

The pendulum was impressive. In order for it to move in sync with the Earth’s rotation, it had to be suspended from an extremely long cable. This one measured the height of the ceiling in the Institute’s central dome all the way down the basement one level below where Mitch was standing, a good 80 feet at least.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” said the young man next to him.

Mitch had not noticed his approach. He was young, perhaps 18 or 19, dark of hair and well-built. His voice had an odd accent; definitely not American, but not quite easily pinned down as British, Australian, or something else.

“I see this,” he continued. “and I feel so confined. A world that always moves in the exact same rhythm. Never changing. Never altering its course. Stuck. I suppose for some there’s comfort in that consistency, but I’d prefer things to be more…random. Do you know what I mean?”

“The problem with the world, Martin dear,” said the voice of the young woman on Mitch’s other side. “is that not it’s confined. It’s that it’s too small. There’s so much more out there that we’ve just barely begun to discover.”

The young woman was of medium height, with long rather plainly styled black hair. Her horn-rimmed glasses looked more appropriate on a senior citizen. Like Martin, she was about 18 or 19 years old. Mitch smiled; Her button down blouse could barely contain a rather ample chest.

He stared at those only briefly before meeting each of their eyes in turn. Their spiel about the nature of the world was clearly rehearsed, full of innuendo that only a mage would truly get. “So,” said Mitch. “You’re the reason I was told to come here.”

“Martin Lovejoy.” Introduced the young man. “And this is my girlfriend, Anna. I am secretary to the Hierarch Thaddeus Zao and she is secretary to the Sub-hierarch Gretchen Mosley. Part of our jobs is to meet with new wizards and show them the ropes. You are James Mitchell, correct?”

“Did Skelmsdale tell you to expect me?”

“He did.” Answered Anna. “Although we’ve been expecting you for some time now. We keep a very close eye on the comings and goings of other will-workers to our city. For reasons that will become very clear soon enough.”

Mitch nodded. He already knew to what they were referring, but decided that his curiosity about the Dark Brotherhood could wait for now. It seemed there was a protocol here to follow and Mitch contented himself to be carried along with the currents for the time being.

That did not mean, however, he was not curious about the protocol itself. “So what happens now? What’s the next item on the agenda?”

Martin gestured disarmingly. “We enjoy the museum. We talk. We get to know one another. Become friends.”

Mitch looked at Anna again. She was not drop-dead gorgeous by any means, but certainly pretty enough. Then, to his surprise, her already ample bosom seemed to inflate even larger. The top button of her blouse shot free as the fabric became overstretched.

“Martin, stop it!” she snapped. Martin began to laugh.

“Caught him looking.” Said Martin with a smirk. So, Martin was a prankster. The phrase Mitch settled on in his mind was “class clown.”

Anna snapped her fingers and her breasts returned to their normal size. “I should never have taught you that spell.” Martin merely replied with a shit-eating grin.

She was not truly angry. Obviously, this was a game they played with one another and was probably a way for them to establish to potential suitors that they belonged to one another. Mitch got the message and made a mental note to keep things platonic with the young woman. Making enemies here was not his mission.

“So, we talk,” said Mitch. “and I would guess your girlfriend’s assets are off-limits in terms of topic.” He added cheekily.

“Well, for now…” said Martin. There was a playfulness to his whole demeanor, as if he didn’t take much of anything in life very seriously. He was clearly obnoxious, but charming enough to be difficult to dislike. Perhaps that was why Anna liked him.

“What then instead?”

“Walk with me.” Martin offered, his tone getting serious again. He began to walk away from the pendulum towards one of the exhibit areas. As he did so, he continued to speak. “Anna and I have only been mages for about six months now.”

“Newly awakened and yet in positions of importance.” Mitch observed.

“Of a sort. We were made ‘secretaries’ as a way of letting others know we have some value to those in charge. The job is largely ceremonial. We get to run basic errands for the head honchos during breaks in our studies. Any how, I grew up in New York City. My parents were British diplomats at the UN, but I was born here, grew up here, went to school here. I’m pretty much as American as they come.”

“Or so you’d like to believe.” Mitch already sensed something else about his young companion. He was a mite insecure about his identity. Class clowns usually were. Martin's origins also explained the accent: Upper crust English with a fusion of Brooklyn.

“Straight A student. Good enough for Ivy League. My parents really wanted me to go back to England for my university studies, but I’d barely spent any time there. But if I was going to an American school, they’d be damned if it wasn’t one of the best. No state university for me. So I ended up at Penn.”

“The bottom rung of the Ivy League.” Mitch teased disdainfully.

Martin frowned. There was a streak of snobbishness in him as well and now Mitch knew he could pretty easily get a rise out of him. Yeah, definitely needed to take a hands-off approach to Anna. Martin would be the type to hold a grudge. The clown was artifice that concealed a rather immature and volatile young man.

“But you’re not still there.” It was at this point that Mitch noticed Martin's attire: a Temple University hoodie.

“No, because midway through my elementary physics classes my professor put one of those supposedly unsolvable equations on the blackboard and I had an epiphany. The whole world seemed to suddenly explode into myriad possibilities and I was brought to the watchtower.”

“You awoke.”

“Right in the middle of class. Must have been a sight to see to watch me wig out right there. But they took notice.”

“The Brotherhood?”

“I was right under their nose. That campus is their home turf. It wasn’t five minutes after class before three of them greeted me on the quad. Told me how I was touched by the devil, that I had come to see the truly nature of reality, and now I was to join with them…”

“And you didn’t.”

“No. They give this little spiel to every mage they encounter, newly awoken or not. They’re looking for the psychopaths, the megalomaniacs, the people with no scruples whatsoever. The sort that would make good Brotherhood material. It’s a test and if you fail, they try to kill you.”

“You against three seasoned infernalists?”

“I ran like hell. Turns out the good guys had also detected my Awakening and sent some of their own to find me. Turns out I was one of three the diviners had predicted would awaken that very week, an unprecedented event. So they were ready. The Consilium and the Brotherhood had a running battle over the campus of UPenn that day and none of the Sleepers were any the wiser of it. One mage got killed though, swallowed up by a mini black hole summoned by one nasty Brotherhood Mastigos. Awful way to die. The most grotesque thing I’ve ever seen. But, in the end, I got away. They saved me. That could have been me and it nearly was.”

Martin's tone of voice was now quite grim. It seemed out of character to his snobbish clownish demeanor, but he was clearly haunted by what he’d seen. “It’s what they do, James. Every last Brotherhood member is a serial killer or a wannabe. They’re monsters. They are evil personified. People disappear all over the city everyday and no one realizes it. With memory charms, bribes, and a whole host of other strategies, the Brotherhood abducts and murders people constantly and no one is the wiser. No one except us.”

“I have powerful friends.” Intimated Mitch.

“We know. We could use them.” Martin's look remained haunted. “If someone doesn’t stop these people, the murders will continue. As they’ve been continuing since the earliest days of the city.”

“Skelmsdale admitted the Hierarch is hesitant to act.”

“That’s because the Brotherhood has always been unassailable. Many of their wizards are over a century old, their lifespans extended by magical means. They’re stronger than we are. We have the numbers, but they have strength and magical power and influence far beyond us. We need allies.”

“I can make no promises. This isn’t really our war.”

“Except that it just might be.” Said Anna, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. “We don’t have proof yet, but we believe someone among the vampires has made common cause with the Brotherhood. An alliance. They’re up to something. And if the Brotherhood is involved, it isn’t good news for any of us. Your friends included.”

---

Boar dashed through the low brush, enjoying the feel of damp fall leaves on the pads of his paws. He was relishing this. He did not get out into wild places nearly enough anymore. Like dogs, cats, and various other animals, werewolves had learned to live in the environments of humankind, but were never truly comfortable there. Here, in the woods, amidst trees and ferns, with the chattering of small animals and birds around him, he was truly at home.

He’d chosen to seek out the werewolves of Philadelphia as wolf rather than a man. It seemed more natural, more appropriate. The enhanced sense of smell that came with it helped as well. He’d caught a scent. A female and she was in heat.

That was trouble. He’d caved to that temptation before and it had gotten he loved killed. But he knew this was no dog or stray wild wolf. It was one of his own kind. Perhaps stalking from afar a potential human mate.

Boar slowed his pace and began stalking. If his quarry was prowling after a human, he didn’t want to startle either of them and create problems. Ghost wolves like himself were often mistaken for feral stray dogs; too lean and scraggly to look like a proper wolf to most humans. But still, a nosy Animal Control Officer, called out by a spooked human, could ruin everyone’s day.

Sure enough, he scented proof that his guess was right. A smelly sweaty human male. Probably a runner, enjoying a jog through Fairmount Park. The female werewolf was keeping pace, just out of sight. Was she planning to make a move today? Damn, if so. Boar hated the idea of ruining such an encounter. Wouldn’t do well for him to make friends if he fouled someone’s attempt at a good first impression with a potential mate.

The human kept going, oblivious to the two werewolves stealthily stalking just beyond his sight. The female however stopped. He heard a low plaintive howl, barely audible over the ambient noise of the forest. It was a sound of longing. This werewolf wanted this human bad, but Boar guessed she didn’t know what to do to win him.

“Unrequited love sucks.” He thought, but now he had his opening. He drew closer, now heedless of trying to keep quiet. The other werewolf heard his approach.

They encountered one another in a tiny clearing in the woods, perhaps 2 meters tops in diameter. The female growled a warning at him, but Boar chose a submissive stance. Seeing him back down, the female drew closer, sniffing like a dog at his nethers. Satisfied with whatever she learned, she drew up alongside him. With a quick gesture, she motioned for him to follow.

Boar had been a werewolf now for many years and yet it still astounded him how much he or any of his kind could communicate through body language and scent. Without a single word of human language, the female had sensed his intentions and had chosen to trust him enough to lead him to the rest of her pack. He loved the honesty this enforced, such a far cry from the world of vampires and mages he usually occupied.

The female lead him to a small, but substantial, campsite. It looked like the ramshackle temporary shelters the homeless often set up in city parks. A handful of cars loaded with every possession they could fill ringed the outside. A small campfire marked the center. Near the campfire, several humans were cooking breakfast: bacon, eggs, even some oatmeal. It smelled wonderful.

The female emerged and shifted into an attractive blond girl in her late teens.

“So, Janice, did you fuck him this time?” growled one of the humans, a Latino male. His tone was bullying, not playful.

“Fuck you, Cortez.” Said Janice; her anger was genuine, but she didn’t let it distract her. “Found a stray though.”

Boar emerged and shifted into his human form. “A ghost.” Said Cortez. “You’re not from around here, amigo. New to the city, I take?”

“I’m Mike Boorman. Most of my friends just call me Boar.”

“I’m Cortez Molina, alpha of our little pack here. The chica is Janice Miller. She’s got it bad for some blond Chestnut Hill student.” His voice reminded Boar greatly of Cheech Marin.

“Would you leave my love life or lack thereof out of this?”

“You’re not going to catch him as a wolf. Not if you don’t plan to eat him.” Cortez suggested.

The tension in the air grew thick. Janice was clearly sensitive about her lack of progress with her intended paramour and Cortez was doing everything in his power to goad her about it. Boar stood by his first impression of the pack alpha: he was a bully. Charm, however, might diffuse the situation.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to hide in the bushes from a guy she likes.”

“You’re not helping.” Janice turned her anger on Boar.

“I’m also being serious.” He said firmly. “A young lady as cute as you…”

“Don’t patronize me. You’re as bad as he is and, unlike him, you’re not my alpha.” That was a threat.

“He’s not patronizing you, Janice dear.” Said a woman’s voice. One of the other humans cooking around the fire stood up. Boar got a good look at her and his heart jumped.

The woman was drop-dead gorgeous, dark of skin and hair. At first, Boar thought her a Latino like Cortez, but no…the voice wasn’t right. The accent didn’t fit. Less Latin and more something else. Then it hit him: Romani. She was a Gypsy.

“You too, Natasha?” said Janice back to the woman. “Look at me. My clothes are torn. I haven’t bathed in days. I look pathetic. I dropped out of school and ran away from home. Never finished high school. No student at a high class college like that is going to give me the time of day.”

“You’re not giving him a chance.” Natasha said.

“The clothing and bathing can be remedied easily enough.” Boar offered. “As for your history, that’s not even remotely a hindrance to getting him into bed with you. You’re in heat. I could smell that in the woods. One fuck and you’ll feel better. That’s not as hard to get as you think, even from your student friend.”

“You don’t know me and you don’t know what I want. Stay out of this.”

Boar now saw the problem. Janice was beyond infatuation with this guy; she was convinced she was genuinely in love with him. A quick one-night-stand to relieve the demands of her biology was easy enough, but lasting relationships between werewolves and humans were far harder to manage.

Boar put up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Look. I’m the new guy. I get that. I here looking for a pack and maybe one way I can win you guys over is to be a help. You want to fuck this guy? Marry him? You’re right. It’s your business, but for any of that to happen you’re going to have to talk to him eventually and if you worried about your appearance getting in the way…” He reached into his back pocket and fished out his wallet. He reached in and pulled out a couple of Benjamins. “Would this help?”

Janice looked at the proffered money hesitantly. Natasha then snatched it from Boar’s hand, doing little in that act to disprove her ethnicity’s larcenous reputation. “Yes, it would.” She said. She grabbed Janice by the arm and pulled her away.

Cortez looked impressed. “You’re a half-moon, aren’t you?”

“Is it obvious?”

Cortez chuckled. “Pretty much. You try to make everyone get along. The diplomat. The negotiator. Truth is we could use somebody like you. We got a tough job here and things are tense.”

“So why are you out here?”

“Welcome to the front lines, man. A few miles south is the motherlode, a whole slew of uratha holy sites, places where the barrier between this world and the spirit realm as paper thin. And those damned Abbey hunters sit on the top of all of them.”

“And you don’t go on the offensive for what reason?”

“The Ashwood Abbey have powerful friends. Richest fucks in all the city. Bored assholes who think it good sport to hunt werewolves and whatever else they can find. They don’t go after wizards though. They’re in bed with them.”

“The Brotherhood?”

“Yeah, I hear they call themselves that. Devil-worshiping pricks. Combined, they’re all too strong for us. We Philly uratha are all scattered and divided. Look at me, I’m a pack alpha. How pathetic is that?”

“And yet you’re here right under the enemy’s nose. That takes guts. Courage.”

“Only because all the safer places are taken by stronger packs or nastier creatures like vampires and fae-touched. We get the scraps.” He paused to take some bacon and eggs off the cook stove. “Here.” He offered Boar a plate. “Have some breakfast.”

Boar took the offer. Cortez turned off the stove, made himself a plate of food, and moved to sit by the fire. Boar sat down across from him. “Pressure’s killing us.” Cortez offered. “Janice thinks her little romance is her ticket out of here. She young, newly changed. Doesn’t know how hard it gets for our kind.”

“And Natasha?”

“Kintouched. Human. Helps out around the camp. Got some friends in the police so they leave us alone. One small benefit.”

Boar decided not to dwell overmuch on how a Gypsy woman made “friends” in law enforcement. “She yours?” Boar asked bluntly.

“From time to time. Helps take the edge off.” Cortez then seemed to sense the intent behind Boar’s question. “You want her, don’t you?”

“Do you blame me?”

“Nah, she’s a hottie. I don’t think she’d mind trading up.”

“I get the feeling the whole pack wouldn’t mind, as you put it, trading up. You included.”

“You think I want to be alpha? In this…” Cortez didn’t get to finish his sentence before a nearby tree splintered and exploded, followed a half second later by a gunshot report.

“Damn. They’ve found us.” Said Cortez. He came to his feet quickly, dumping his breakfast onto the dirt. He shifted to wolf-man form. Boar did likewise.

At the edge of the clearing came a half dozen or so men and women on foot, all armed with high powered military grade rifles. Boar recognized several M-16s. The gun that had shattered the tree was a large sniper rifle, probably some form of Barrett, held in the hands of an equally large man.

“Get the kinfolk and newly changed out of here. The warriors will hold them off.” Barked Cortez to Boar. Boar bolted in the direction he’d last seen Natasha and Janice go.

The two women were huddled behind one of the station wagons, not much cover against weapons of that power. Janice had shifted fully into wolf form; she looked small and timid pressed up against Natasha. “Come on.” Boar ordered. “We need to get you out of here.”

Boar could see the pack’s three warriors. They had made for the tree line and were trying to flank the hunters. A good tactic, but dangerous. It was clear they were trying to draw the hunters’ fire away from the camp, but Boar had little doubt that at least one, if not all, those guns were loaded with silver bullets. One good hit and it would over for that werewolf.

He got Natasha in the car and shoved wolf-Janice into the back seat. Two other kinfolk, both children, piled in with Janice. “Go!” Boar barked as the station wagon pealed out. Two other vehicles joined them as they abandoned this camp. Only one remained, an old beat up GMC pick up truck not all that different than the one Michael used to drive. That would be for the warriors to escape, no doubt, once all the others were away. But Boar doubted that hunting party was eager to leave without at least one pelt for their trouble.

Boar let the wolf within him take over fully, shifting into the vicious man-wolf form known as gauru in their language. He tore across the camp and the clearing, heedless of the danger. The hunters, who had turned their attentions to the flanking warriors, missed seeing him until he was right on top of them. Whatever immunity they had to werewolf Lunacy vanished when Boar charged into the lot of them, a whirlwind of tooth, claw, and muscle. He eviscerated two and the rest fled like the devil himself was on their tail.

With the danger passed, Boar shifted back to human. Exhaustion took over, as it always did when a werewolf took that form, and he crumpled to his knees. Cortez and one of his warriors took him by the arms and brought him back to his feet.

“That was fucking awesome.” Said Cortez. “They totally did not see you coming.”

“If they had, you’d be dead.” Said the other dismissively.

“Often,” Boar said, trying to catch his breath, “victory is won by taking great risk. It’s one thing to fight, but if you want to win, you’ve got to stick your neck out from time to time.”

Cortez looked at Boar and nodded. “You said you wanted a pack. You said you figured helping would win you one. Well, you’ve convinced me. Keep kicking those Abbey fuckers asses like that and you can be my alpha any day.”

“Is that a formal offer?”

“You want to fight me for it? I yield.” Said Cortez quickly.

Boar was ambivalent. “Now that’s diplomacy!” he thought. “I came here to make contact and I end up winning the whole pack. Too bad it’s full of cowards and children. Still, it’s a start.”

---

Mitch made his way across Temple’s campus quickly. The rumbling storm clouds above portended a coming storm and he really wasn’t interested in getting drenched.

It had been nearly a week since Mitch had met Professor Skelmsdale, Martin, and Anna. After their conversation about politics and the future of the Consilium, Martin waxed further on his personal background. Turns out, somewhat to Mitch’s consternation, he was Acanthus, the same “path” as Mitch; a manipulator of probability and the flow of time.

That meant two things, one bad and one good. It meant he was going to have to spend a lot of time with the pseudo-British prankster. That was bad. The good part however was that Martin could then arrange an introduction to the Consilium’s Acanthus master and Mitch would get the chance to learn some new magic. It had been a while since he’d managed that. He’d learned a few new tricks, all self-taught, over the past several years, but to learn from another mage could expand his repertoire ten-fold in a matter of weeks and months.

The Acanthus master was a mage with the grandiose name of Balthazar Murray and like the equally impressively named Skelmsdale was a professor at Temple. He was an adjunct however, doing most of his formal teaching as a tenured professor of Physics at Chestnut Hill College. Today was one of his days to be on Temple’s campus and Mitch took advantage.

Of course, that meant learning alongside Martin, but he could tolerate the boorish clown if he must in order to unlock a few more secrets of the universe.

But now, class was over and Mitch was ready to head back to Conshohocken. Just as he turned a corner to head towards his car, he heard his name called out. He stopped his pace and turned.

It was Anna, accompanied by an attractive green-haired Goth girl that Mitch had not seen before. They drew closer.

“Hi, Anna.” Said Mitch somewhat stiffly.

“Mitch, what are you doing here?”

“Professor Murray.” He answered.

“Ah,” said Anna, understanding his meaning. “Say, this is my roommate Trisha Buckley.”

Mitch shook her hand. “James Mitchell, but my friends just call me Mitch.”

“Pleased to meet you. Hey, Anna, I’ll see you later.” Trisha gave Anna a quick wave and then took off towards a nearby building.

“She’s cute.”

“She’s available.”

“Are you just being friendly or are you worried about the implications of my being ‘caught looking’ at the museum?”

“A little of both, I suppose.”

“You could do better.” Mitch admitted impulsively.

“You may not like him, Mr. Mitchell,” Anna replied formally, “but you are a lot like him. Maybe not quite the snob, but you definitely have the whole devil-may-care attitude that he does.”

“Maybe that’s why I don’t like him.” Mitch grumbled with some self-awareness. He waved off the subject with some annoyance. “I also wasn’t too fond of the way he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise the other day. Seemed rude to treat your girl that way.”

“He was nervous.” Admitted Anna. “And when he’s nervous he talks too much. You intimidate the hell out of him, you know.”

“Me?” said Mitch incredulously.

“Yes. Has Professor Murray told you who his teacher was?”

“No.”

“That’s a little surprising, because he told Martin. Anyway, he’s the head diviner, if you didn’t already know, and the one who sensed you would be coming. He told Martin a great mage was coming to join us here. One who rescued his own master from a powerful lich.”

“Murray studied under Stanley Duncan at UVA?”

“One of his first students.” Said Anna. “Murray knew you were the one who had saved his mentor and he told Martin as much as he knew about you. Martin is terrified of you. He tries to hide it behind snobbery and practical jokes. Terrified that you’ll become Professor Murray’s new favorite and terrified that you’ll become mine.” Anna paused. “Meeting your hero’s hero is always scary.”

“I never knew I was such an icon. I’m just a mage. I don’t even know that many spells. I just have good friends. Powerful friends.”

“Vampires. Werewolves. Most of us never even meet such creatures, let alone befriend them.”

“So, you know my story and we all heard about Martin's. So what’s yours?” Mitch paused to look up at the sky again. It looked just as ominous as before. “Maybe we should get inside before you answer that.”

“No worries. The spirit of this storm has already told me it will not rain upon the city today.”

“You’re a Thyrsus then?”

“Yes. That is my path, a spirit-talker and healer.” She began to walk over to a grassy plot. “My origins are in California.” She said, sitting down. “San Diego. Like Martin, I was an ace student.”

Mitch sat down next to her to listen. Anna then reclined on the grass to look up at the sky. “Senior year of high school, my folks were killed in a car accident. I grew up in an atheist household, but losing them so suddenly and so unexpectedly threw my whole worldview into chaos. My first encounter I guess with mortality.”

“Everyone finds such experiences traumatic.” Mitch offered. “Doesn’t matter what you believed before or didn’t believe…”

“Well, my crisis of faith, such as it was, seemed to trigger what I can only describe as a partial awakening. I didn’t go to my watchtower, but something was different about me. Just this gnawing feeling. I had to get away. So I dropped out of school and ran away from home. Just vanished for all intents and purposes off the face of the earth.

“I had one of those old VW hippie vans and I just started driving. I picked up a few others in San Fran. Two girls. I called them the “Jays,” Julia and Janet. Two 15 year old lesbians who got kicked out of their homes for being gay. I drove and they made out in the back of the van most days. Also, picked up this guy Will a week or so later. Another runaway in Sacramento.

“The three of us trekked out east. The Jays discovered they weren’t completely lesbian after all when each of them in turn slept with Will and then the three of them all together. We were one big orgy bus.”

“And you?” Mitch inquired, his lustful curiosity piqued.

“I was the old lady, the 18 year old, who’d seen death. I was all Goth and dark and intimidating to Will. He never touched me and I don’t swing the way the Jays did. So, no. I got to chaperone it all, but never participated. I didn’t much care. I just wanted to get away from whatever I was trying to get away from. I didn’t mind that I wasn’t getting laid along the way.”

“Will left us somewhere in Nevada. Guess he had his fill of the Jays and wanted something else. The rest of us moved on into Wyoming. That’s like the most desolate place in the world. Almost nobody lives there. We stopped one night in this little town on top of a mountain. Had a small airport and a McDonalds and not much else. We were bored, so we took a walk up this country road. It got dark and we got lost. Saw a light across a field and we headed towards it.

“Turns out there was something funny about that field. My half-awakening acted like a blaring klaxon to the restless spirits that lived there. Apparently it was the site of some Indian massacre back in the Old West days. The ghosts all manifested at once, surrounded us. They jumped the Jays. One tore Janet to pieces, limb from limb. Another slammed Julia’s head against a rock so many times it just burst like an overripe melon. I ran. I ran like hell. I tripped and fell and finally had my full watchtower vision. I was awoke fully.

“When I came out of it, the ghosts were gone. I got to the trailer where we saw the light. The redneck who lived there saw the whole thing and was surprised I’d lived through it. We got in his truck and drove the fuck out of there as fast as we could.

“He told me after we got away that there was always something strange about that field, that he never felt right setting foot on it. That’s how I learned the history of it, from him. He also said those ghosts were going to come after me.

“I’d had the shock of my life. So when I got back to my van I just drove and drove. Now I knew what I was running from. I got all the way to Philadelphia. Got off the highway and went looking for a gas station. Van died on UPenn’s campus and apparently the Brotherhood’s got some kind of spell to detect when a mage steps into their territory. They came to me, gave me the whole devil-spiel like they did Martin. Turns out I was third of those mages Professor Murray had predicted would emerge that week. Thaddeus Zao himself showed up about a minute later. Those DB shitstains were not about to challenge the Hierarch, so they ran and I got safely to the Consilium.

“A few spells later and I was a student at Temple and secretly learning spirit magic from the Hierarch himself. I met Martin, heard his story, and because we were together all the time as the two new novices, it just sort of fell into dating one another. Six months later, here we are.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something in response, but he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to her tale. Anna interrupted him before he could. “I know Martin and I don’t have the most conventional relationship, but I do love him. He takes my mind off the horrible things I’ve seen.”

“Alright,” interjected Mitch. “I’m usually one who likes to keep his options open, but both of you seem convinced that I’m here to ruin your romance. You’re cute, I’ll give you that, but I don’t think I really want to mess with this bond you have between you.”

“I know you’re tempted, Mitch. I see the way you look at me.”

“I look at all good-looking women that way. You noticed me with Trisha, didn’t you?”

“The temptation is mutual.” Said Anna abruptly. “Martin's not entirely out of line in being afraid of what might happen between us. He’s not the easiest person to get along with, as you’ve already noticed.”

Mitch was confused. “So what are you saying? Are you wanting to cheat on him? Or are you…”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m saying.”

“So you want me to decide for you.” Said Mitch. He paused thoughtfully for a while. “No, I won’t do that. Not my circus. Not my monkeys. I got between another friend and his woman recently and I’ve had nothing but trouble since. I’m not about to make that mistake again. But I will, however, take Trisha’s phone number if you have it.”

Anna frowned, but after a brief pause, started digging for her phone.

---

Michael sat at his computer and typed. Sarah was out with the Wicca coven again tonight. Boar and Mitch were with their respective peoples (all evidence seemed to point to their having great success in gaining friends and allies among the mages and werewolves.) Michael was once again alone, save for Julia, who was watching TV in the living room.

Having read several paperback novels already, Michael had decided to sit down and give some old abandoned manuscripts some work. During his years in Blacksburg, he’d largely neglected the two great hobbies he’d come to embrace in his first years as a vampire: his music and his writing. Now that he was neither consumed with the hands-on business of political ambition (for the moment anyway) nor lost in libertine excess, he found he had some time and energy to dedicate to them again.

The story he was working on dealt with an intriguing theological question he’d come up with some time ago. What if a group of space travelers stumbled onto an alien planet where the aliens worshipped all the same religions and deities as did the people of Earth? What would that mean? How would the fundamentalists and extremists of the religions on both planets react? How would the atheists and the extremists within that movement respond? Michael was trying to weave these ideas into a new story, better than the one he’d started to write years ago. But he was having trouble. He was both out of practice and stuck in an interesting spot: He had a great setting and concept, but no plot that worked within them to bring his vision to life.

A knock came at the front door. Michael did not get up, but waited for Julia to answer whoever it might be. He heard an exchange of voices, both women. Whoever had come to visit was female. Michael focused on his story.

Julia poked her head into his office. “Kathleen is here to see you. I’ve got her waiting at the door, just in case she’s not…” Julia pointed at her own head, implying that Ernie might be riding shotgun.

“I’ll deal with it.” Michael stood up and walked out to the front of the apartment.

Michael came through the kitchen to where Kathleen was standing at the threshold. His jaw dropped in astonishment.

The first thing was different was her hair. It was nicely styled and highlighted. It looked soft and beautiful, not straggly and straw-like as it always had before. It was gathered nicely to one side, instead of just hanging long and loose.

Kathleen’s face was brighter; was she wearing makeup? Michael had never seen that. Gone also were the frumpy unflattering clothes. In their place was a very nice dress that actually accentuated the shape of her body. She looked like a completely new person. The lost soul had vanished, replaced by a very pretty young woman.

Kathleen offered a weak smile as she saw Michael looking her over. “What do you think?” she asked.

“I think the beautiful person that you are is starting to emerge.” Complimented Michael.

She smiled nervously again. “Thanks. I was hoping you’d like it.”

“Why are you here? Is it just to show off?” Michael kept a critical eye on her, to see if there was any indication of Ernie’s presence. If he was inside her, he was a far better actor than Michael imagined. To all appearances, this was truly Kathleen.

“Well, I did want to show off.” She answered sheepishly.

“Whose idea was the makeover?” Michael asked, driving right to the point.

“I wanted you to like me.” She replied without answering his question. Ernie, Michael concluded, was likely behind the new look.

“I do like you.” Offered Michael. “I liked you before all this.”

“But you went back to her.” Kathleen pleaded. “You didn’t like me that much.”

Michael frowned. He saw where this was going and he now considered it quite probable that Ernie was calling the shots for Kathleen somehow, even if his presence wasn’t easily apparent.

“Stop doing this to her, Ernie. She’s her own person and you should let her be such.” Michael growled at Kathleen, wondering what sort of reply he’d receive.

“Ernie’s not behind this.” Kathleen answered, shaking her head. If it was a lie, it was a convincing one. “This is me. This is the person you…” She hesitated, looking for a comfortable means to describe her next thought. “…took to your bed and showed her that there was someone beautiful in me, someone desirable, someone…”

“All those things are true.” Said Michael delicately. If this was truly Kathleen, he knew he was on thin ice with her fragile self-worth. “You are beautiful. You are desirable. But those things are true regardless of anything and everything. It doesn’t matter whether you’re with me or if you’re with someone else or if you’re by yourself.” He hesitated himself, trying to find the right words to affirm her. “You don’t need me to constantly prove it to you. You just need to believe it.”

“You make me believe it.” She pleaded. Her eyes were watery, with a look of desperation to them.

“Kathleen, I…”

“I love you, Michael.” She blurted out urgently.

“No,” Michael answered. “No, you don’t. You think you do, but, Kathleen, you barely know me. I barely know you.”

“We could change all that. Spend time together. Talk…make love…all that.”

“And none of that would change the fact that I’m in love with Sarah Cobbler.” Said Michael bluntly. “She is the one I want to be with.” He softened. “Look, we had one wonderful magical night together. It was great. It was fun. It showed you a side of yourself that you didn’t realize was even there. Cherish the memory of that and try to learn the lesson I sought to teach you. But don’t read more into it than what is there. There is no us. I belong to Sarah. I love her. Not you.”

Michael half expected to see Kathleen burst into tears at that admission and it was obvious the temptation was there for her. But she just barely held her composure together.

“I will find a way to change that. I will make you mine somehow.” She declared forcefully. Having said that, she gave into her pain, let out a hysterical sob, and flew out the door as fast as she could manage.

Michael closed the door softly and turned around. Julia was still there; she had witnessed the whole exchange. He looked at her and she looked at him.

“I suppose,” she said after a long moment. “all that applies to me as well.”

“Julia,” Michael replied sympathetically. “If I could release you from your bond, I would. There’s no us either. Not anymore.” He walked over to her and took hold of her gently by the arms. “Look, when all this is over and we’re all back from our various tasks and missions, you have my blessing, even my encouragement, to go find someone else. Be with them. Love them. Be loved by them. Find some measure of happiness with them.”

“Who would you prefer I be with?”

“Damn that bond,” Michael growled to himself. Again, he reminded himself that the alternative with her would have been death. Even now though, as he did everything he could to set her free, it still held her to him.

“Anyone.” He answered. “Boar, Mitch, any of them.”

“Solomon?” she offered.

“If you can manage it, yes. I’d trust him to take good care of you, just as I trusted Corwin to take care of the harem girls I left behind. He’s a fine choice.”

“I will try.” She smiled. “Thanks.”

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