Michael
stood by the small dock on the banks of the Delaware River.
He’d arrived as soon as he could after dusk. He did not have to wait long.
After a few minutes, a small dingy could be seen rowing from the island towards
the north shore on which he stood. Michael waited and watched as his ride
slowly but surely made its way to him.
The man
rowing was ruddy of skin with black hair and beard. His eyes however were
bright blue and almost shimmered in the darkness. He pulled the boat to the
pier and looked at Michael.
“You are
Michael Allens, yes?” he asked. Michael nodded in reply. “Ah, I am Gaudino,
servant to his Holiness Thomas Monroe. I am here to accompany you to his
island.”
“Then let
us not keep his Holiness waiting.” Michael said smoothly. He still found the ecclesiastical title odd, but he figured tonight was his best chance of discovering
its origins, among other things.
Michael
climbed into the boat somewhat gingerly, trying to avoid dumping himself into
the river via the rickety craft. He took a seat and Gaudino began to row back.
“I have
been instructed to tell you that his Holiness has been detained by his affairs.
You are to have full run of the island, to enjoy its pleasures as you see fit.”
“How
generous.” Michael replied, not quite certain to what sort of pleasures Gaudino
might be referring.
The rest of
the journey passed in silence. They rowed some distance, moving parallel to the
mile-long island in an effort to reach its far eastern end. It was not a long
journey, maybe ten or so minutes to cross the distance. The island was wooded,
but Michael could make out some faint light filtering through the trees. The
only structure however that was easily visible in the darkness was the large
watchtower-like edifice near the eastern end. That, to all appearances, seemed
to be their destination.
Gaudino
disembarked first and helped Michael out of the boat. He then set to tying the
boat to the pier. As he did so, Michael noted the arrival of another.
This time
it was a woman. Like Gaudino, she was dark skinned and haired and Michael
suspected that when she spoke her name, it would be something traditionally
Italian. Philadelphia was famed for its Italian
subculture, but it seemed curious that all Monroe’s servants were of that ethnic group.
“Ah,
Michael, this is Savina, my sister.”
Michael
gave her a polite nod. “I have free run? How will you find me when Monroe’s affairs are
finished?”
“The island
is not that big.” Gaudino emphasized. “It will not take long to locate you wherever
you are.”
“Very
well.” Michael turned his attentions to the island and left the two Italians to
their own business. He marched to the end of the pier and began his
explorations with the watchtower structure he’d seen from the river. It was
stone and appeared to be an abandoned lighthouse. It was in quite a state of
disrepair, but Michael could also tell that was a bit of deception. Inside the
building, he could see figures moving around behind its darkened windows,
likely using their perch scan the river for any who might try to intrude on Monroe’s sanctuary.
Michael
then moved past the guard tower down the path. The woods opened up after about
50 feet to reveal a broad open clearing containing several stone buildings and
a sculpture garden. None of the buildings appeared to be in great shape, but
like the tower, Michael suspected that was intentional. This island was
supposed to be abandoned, the former home of a 18th century
eccentric and still privately owned by his descendants. It was off limits to
everyone except its owners, who largely left the place to the encroachment of
nature.
The first
building Michael encountered seemed to be in the best shape of all of them. It
was also clearly a mausoleum of some sort. He made his way around the building
to its far side, where he found its entrance flanked by two statues. Both
statues were of churchmen, garbed in all the finery Catholicism had to offer.
Each wore a Papal tiara, but no names adorned the statues. Clearly, the
island’s owner was claiming a couple of Popes in their family line. Michael
wondered to himself if that was more of the chicanery of the island’s story or
if that was reflective of something in Monroe’s
background. Given everything else he knew of Monroe, Michael was guessing the latter.
As
dignified as the two Popes were, the other statues that adorned the garden next
to the mausoleum were as opposite in tone as they could be. Men and women often
in the throes of carnal passion. But the scenes were not merely pornographic,
they did hold an element of culture. Michael recognized stories he read in
mythology and even from the Christian scriptures: the rape of Tamar, Aphrodite
and Ares, Osiris’ castration after being murdered by Set, and other stories
he’d remembered. Michael smiled in amusement. He’d read many of those tales as
a child, but they were rather white-washed for young readers. Seeing them here
portrayed so graphically and realistically put a new spin on those old tales.
The statue
of Aphrodite caught his attention. It was a remarkable piece of craftsmanship
for one thing, as fine a sculpture as Michael had ever seen. So fine that the
face seemed familiar to him, as if he’d seen the model for the statue before.
As he was
inspecting the statue and wracking his brain trying to figure out who the model
might have been, he heard a sound from behind the mausoleum. It was the sound
of passionate grunting, as if someone was having a quickie just around the
bend. Curious and a little aroused, Michael turned away from the statue to investigate.
Rather than
interrupt whoever with his voyeuristic escapade, Michael willed the power of
his blood to mask his presence. The shadows about him grew darker and he felt
confident he was well concealed. So cloaked, he made his way around the building
to see what there was to see.
Michael
figured it was Gaudino, given there was a familiarity to the rutting sounds he
was hearing. Sure enough, that’s who he found, pressing a young woman against
the back wall of the mausoleum. Staring at a man’s bare ass as he fucked was
not quite the thrill Michael was seeking however, so he tried to move about so
he could get a better look at his paramour. That was when his eyes grew wide.
It was no random stranger from the tower that Gaudino was plowing, but the woman
he’d introduced as his sister, Savina.
It brought
to mind the memories of the near-miss he’d had with his own sister some months
earlier. Those memories were as disturbing as the scene in front of him, but
perhaps more disturbing still was the fact that Michael found himself growing
more turned on at the incest he was witnessing.
Michael
shook his head to clear his thoughts and retreated from the scene. “This is repulsive.” He told himself, as
if trying to convince his arousal it was so. He no longer questioned what sort
of pleasures this island might offer. Between the graphic statuary and what
he’d just witnessed between two of the island’s residents, it was now obvious.
All manner of debaucheries were to be had here, including a few, Michael
guessed, that he’d never had before.
What didn’t
fit in the picture were the pieces of piety that he’d seen: the papal statues, Monroe’s ecclesiastical title and finery. Those contrasted sharply with the libertine sights of the island.
What sort of kindred was Monroe
after all? Nothing seemed to make sense.
Worse by
far than the mystery surrounding his host were the temptations the island was
offering. Gaudino had made clear that Michael was to “enjoy its pleasures.” Now
Michael had a sense of what that might involve. As lustful as he could be, he
feared what might lurk around the next corner.
“Where do
you draw the line, Michael?” he asked himself aloud. “How far is too far?”
The
darkness gave him no answer, nor did Michael’s own troubled mind. The brutality
of the statues’ subject matter now unsettled him, as well as the still audible
sounds of the siblings’ lovemaking. He decided to move on.
The next
building inland was the largest of the stone structures and was likely Monroe’s own home.
Figuring that would be his final destination, Michael walked around it to the
area beyond, neglecting it in his exploration for the time being.
In the
courtyard at the far side of the mansion, Michael found a series of smaller
stone structures. To all appearances, these seemed to be family homes, perhaps
the residences of Monroe’s
mortal servants. The buildings were single story and made of the same dark
sandstone as everything else. There were no lights on in any of them; Michael
was not entirely sure the island had electricity.
That
question was answered almost immediately. Beyond the residences, Michael could
see what at first appeared to be a greenhouse. It was well lit, perhaps the
source of light that he’d seen from the river earlier. As he drew closer, he
could see the vague shapes of people inside through the steamed glass.
Michael
walked up to the greenhouse, but found the steam coating was on the inside. Not
a surprise since it was likely much warmer inside than out where he was,
although the sheer quantity of moisture struck him as odd. He could hear voices
and the laughter of children. With that, he put two and two together. Not a
greenhouse, but an indoor swimming pool.
Michael
made his way around the building until he found a door. He pulled it open and
stepped inside. It was as he expected. A small pool, kept warm within a glass
building. Perhaps a dozen or so people inside.
Michael
looked around. Lounging by the side of the pool were a handful of adult women,
each one of them quite pregnant. Given what he’d seen thus far, he was not
surprised to find them also quite naked. In fact, the only person in the pool
house who had a stitch of clothing on was himself. Not the women, not the men,
and also not the children.
One of the
men, an older fellow who looked like he could be Gaudino’s elder brother or
even father, gave Michael a polite nod, as if to welcome him.
“Hi,”
Michael said half-heartedly.
“You must
be the visitor his Holiness invited to the island tonight.” Said the man.
Michael
nodded. “I am Michael Allens.”
“My name is
Dario. We’ve been told to extend you every hospitality. If you’d like, you
could join us for a swim.”
Michael
paused to consider the offer. As he did so, one of the children jumped on
Dario’s back with a loud giggle. It was a little boy and seemed quite delighted
with himself. “Come on, Babbo. Play with me!” He insisted.
Dario spun
around and grabbed the boy, tickling him as he did so. Were it not for the
nudity, Michael might have found the scene before him ordinary and innocent,
like thousands of other fathers and sons playing together. But given everything
else he’d seen, Michael feared there was another form of play condoned here and
if he lingered he might be invited to participate.
“Thanks for
the invite, Dario. I’ll think I’ll continue exploring.”
“Have fun.”
Said Dario. He then turned his full attention to his son.
“Where do you draw the line?” Michael
repeated the question he’d asked himself earlier as he exited the pool house. “Is there a line?”
There did
not appear to be much more to see of the island, although well over half of it
remained unexplored. The woods closed in again beyond the pool house and there
seemed to be little else of interest besides a small shed that Michael guessed
was for the gardening staff. As he gave the shed a brief looking over, an older
man emerged from it, dressed in dirty overalls and carrying a rake.
Michael
gave the man a friendly wave, which was returned in kind. He then turned and headed towards the mansion to
finish out his waiting.
As he made
his way down the path, one of the doors of the residences opened and a young
girl of about 7 or 8 emerged. Her attire caught his attention, dressed in one
of those sundresses that only a small girl could get away with, hanging as low
as it did on her chest. That struck Michael as odd, given the time of year and
the cool temperature of the evening. She saw him and shot him a polite smile.
She then made her way back towards the pool house area.
Perhaps the
dress was an easy garment to discard for swimming, given that nudity was normal
for the pool. But despite his rationalizations, Michael had another suspicion.
He did not want to be right about this fear. He did not want to believe that
these children were also participants in the island residents’ depraved
behaviors.
But a grim
curiosity now drove him. He wanted to make sure. Drawing the cloak of night
about him again, Michael turned and followed after the girl.
She did not
go to the pool, which drove Michael’s worries to a fever pitch. She instead headed
into the woods beyond the shed. Michael continued to follow.
Perhaps
another 100 feet into the woods, the trees opened up into a clearing. Here,
Michael found the girl and the old gardener together. The girl had never been
very far ahead of Michael, but in the short time it had taken for him to catch
up with her, the two of them were already well into their tryst. Her sundress
was already bunched up about her waist, exposing her chest and nethers to the
world. The old man, meanwhile, had doffed his overalls and was fondling the
girl between her legs with much enthusiasm. The girl gasped. Whether in
pleasure or astonishment, he could not tell.
It was all
too much for Michael. He now saw his worries confirmed. There was no line. Not here.
Not on this island. Not in the domain of Monroe.
Unlike the previous tryst he’d witnessed, there was no arousal in him this
time. There was instead anger, disgust, even fury. The wrongness of all it. He
would stand for it no longer.
Michael
rushed from the tree line towards the couple. Hidden by his vampiric powers,
they did not react to his charge. Michael slammed hard into the pair, knocking
them apart and making himself visible again. As the man fell backwards, Michael
scooped him up and sank his fangs deep into his throat. The girl screamed as
Michael drank. He took only a few quick gulps of his vital blood before ripping
his throat out and letting the dying man fall to the grass.
He turned
to the girl only to find her running in terror back to the woods. Michael let
her go. She was the victim here and needed no further trauma tonight after
being molested by the decrepit pervert now expiring at Michael’s feet.
Michael
wiped the blood from his mouth on the dead man’s shirt and made his way back
towards the pool house. He made his way through the woods and then paused at
the pool house. He could hear the laughter and fun within, but dared not go
inside again. He knew now without any doubt what those children were for. He
knew now without any doubt that those pregnant women had likely become so by
their own brothers and fathers. This whole place was a nightmare of carnality
that sickened him. Even as lustful as he was, he felt this place an
abomination.
He was
leaving even if he had to swim across the Delaware to get away.
Michael
marched north towards the riverbank, but before he could get very far he heard
his name called. Michael turned and saw Gaudino coming around the residences
towards his general direction.
Michael
stood still, his anger and repulsion cooling. He still had many questions of Monroe, more now than
ever before. This was going to be his best and perhaps only chance to get those
answers. Gaudino spotted him and walked over.
“His
Holiness is now ready.”
“As am I.” said Michael coldly. To that answer, Gaudino gave
Michael a knowing grin. It was then that Michael noticed he was holding a bit
of muddy cloth. It was the girl’s sundress. It had likely fallen off of her
completely as she’d run past Gaudino.
Michael
said nothing to Gaudino about what did or did not happen between him and the
girl, regardless of what his guide believed. Michael gestured towards the
palace, to which Gaudino responded by leading the way.
Gaudino
opened the large double-doors inside and gestured for Michael to follow.
Despite its dilapidated exterior, the interior was exquisite. Fine furniture,
ornate woodwork, and paintings to match the statuary outside. Like those
statues, the paintings were of debauched scenes from mythology and legend;
Michael recognized King Arthur and Morganna conceiving Modred in one. Again,
the model for Morganna looked familiar.
Then it hit
him. He’d seen her in a painting before, but not here. No, he’d seen her in a
painting in an apartment in Roanoke,
Virginia. In Deborah’s apartment.
The model was Lucy Bonneville, Deborah’s sire and Michael’s grandsire. He was
certain of it. Lucy and Monroe had known one another at one point.
“He awaits
you upstairs.” Gaudino insisted.
Michael
nodded and headed up the ornate stairwell to the second floor. He opened the
door at his right at the top and went inside.
Inside, he
found the girl from the clearing, naked as the day she was born. She turned to
Michael as he walked in, her eyes full of murder and hate. Monroe was in front of her, seated at a desk
and dressed in the same cardinal red Santa-Claus-like robe he wore at Walsh’s
court.
“That is
all, Ludovica.” Dismissed Monroe.
She glared
balefully at Michael as she walked away. Michael turned his attentions to
Monroe, who sat quietly at his desk, as if expecting an explanation for what
the Ludovica had told him. Michael could guess what that was.
“The man
was molesting that girl. Violating her.” He growled.
“And you
feel this justifies the murder of one of my most devoted servants?” replied Monroe. His tone was surprisingly
neutral; there is no anger or animosity in it.
“Rape is
never justified.” Michael replied defiantly.
“So, you do
have your limits.” Said Monroe.
His tone reminded Michael of a scientist looking over a particularly
fascinating specimen. “There is a line you will not go beyond.”
Michael now
had the strong suspicion that the whole thing had been a test. Monroe had deliberately introduced him to the
depravity of the island to see how he’d react. Perhaps, the “affairs” that had
kept Monroe occupied for the past couple of
hours had been another ruse, one to cover the fact that Monroe had been watching him the entire time.
Given the Mekhet clan’s reputation for stealth and secrecy, Michael found that
likely. No sense then in trying to hide anything.
“There are
not many.” Michael replied candidly. “But that is one of them.”
“And yet,
you take to your bed everyday one who is, by all appearances, not much older
than our lovely Ludovica.”
“Sarah is
not a child. You, who have been kindred for centuries, would understand that
our bodies and minds do not always match.”
“So it is
the mind that matters to you? The mind must be suitably prepared, must be
suitably ready, must be suitably mature, for carnal pleasures. The body’s
development is irrelevant.”
“When it
comes to kindred, yes.” Michael conceded.
“And if I
told you that Ludovica has been so prepared? That she has been sexually active
since she could walk? That the other children of this island are also so
trained and prepared? This is our way here and it is my will as master of this
place.”
Michael
frowned. “So debauchery is all that matters to you, your Holiness?” Michael spat
the pious title at Monroe
like he was using the hypocrisy of it all as a weapon. “And that there should
be no limits to any sort of pleasure of the flesh? That’s why I saw the things
I saw. Not just Ludovica with a man nearly 10 times her age, but a brother and
sister together. What else? Man and beast? Parents with their children?”
“You
already know the answer to that.” Monroe
looked Michael up and down. “You protest, but I know better. This is what you
want. A life without limits. No foolish or antiquated morality to stand between
you and your desires.”
“You don’t
know me as well as you think you do.”
“Oh,”
retorted Monroe.
“I know you far better than you realize. Sit. Let us talk and get to the reason
behind why I have asked you to come to my island.”
Michael
hesitated at first, but then moved to sit in the proffered chair. “And why is
that?”
“Because
you and I are very much alike. We are both slave to our vices. We are both
ambitious to a fault. Let’s not mince words. Everyone now knows you didn’t come
to Philadelphia
to play the hero to my beleaguered reign. You came to take advantage of it.
Your little stunt with Rebecca at court last week was proof of that.”
“A small
demonstration of what I’m capable of.”
Monroe smiled at that, which confused
Michael. “You remind me so much of my son. It’s like he’s reincarnated into
you. Frighteningly so.”
“So is it
affection for me or fear of me that brings me here tonight?”
“A little
of both.” Admitted Monroe.
“I want to make you an offer.”
“I’ve seen
what you offer. I’m not interested.”
Monroe shrugged. “This will go much easier
if we do not lie to one another. Do not pretend that you have not thought about
indulging in these taboos before. Do not pretend that you would find no
pleasure in them.”
“You said
yourself there’s a line I won’t cross.”
“And at one
time, there was for me as well. No longer. As the years and decades wear on,
you too will find your absolutes not so absolute anymore.”
“And you
just want to accelerate the process for me?”
“It would
make things easier. Listen, this island is but a start. Slowly but surely, I seek
to transform this whole city into this. A place where pleasures are to be had
by all. This is a city of liberty; that is its founding principle. I want to
take that to its logical conclusion. And I’d very much like your help doing
that.”
“Mortals
will not tolerate what you offer. Child sexuality, incest, these are long held
taboos that they would not surrender for anything and with good reason.”
“And yet,
as we speak, there are children walking the streets of the city offering
themselves to whoever is willing to buy. If it is so objectionable, why does no
one care? Behind the closed doors of family homes across this country, fathers
and daughters, mothers and sons, brothers and sisters are enjoying the
pleasures of one another in secret. I have seen this Internet that everyone is
talking about. A wonder of science, and yet it is used to distribute all manner
of licentiousness. If sex and carnal pleasures are so taboo, so forbidden, so
immoral to humankind, why is this so? I merely wish to make the world more
honest.”
“You offer
barbarism.”
“Man is a
barbarian, if you hadn’t noticed.” Monroe declared forcefully. “As are we
kindred. How many have died by your hand, Mr. Allens? How many women have
shared your bed? You know barbarism well. You have lived it.”
“I now understand
why Mathias hated you.”
Monroe
laughed. “Yes, and yet even he, for all his self-righteousness, had a weakness
for the ladies. Certain exotic beauties, red of hair, in particular. But you
are not like him. You resented his arrogance as much as anyone. There are
always those like him. Savonarola reincarnates again and again in every
generation, among mortals and kindred.”
“Excuse
me?”
“One of my more
bitter opponents from my mortal days. Girolamo Savonarola was a Dominican monk
living in Florence when I was in Rome. He too wanted to pretend that man was
not an animal, that we were destined to something more pure than any human has
ever obtained. He took over the city, forced the people into piety, closed
brothels, abused any who refused his authority. He defied the church and I had
him burned. But he keeps popping up again and again. Mathias is cut from the
same cloth, but among the mortals there’s always at least one like him.
Edwards, Bryant, Robertson, the names and the generations change, but they’re
always around. Honestly, Michael, is that the side you really want to be on?”
“No.”
Michael admitted. “But I’m not entirely sure I want to be on your side either.
You go too far in the other direction for my tastes.”
Monroe
laughed, as if enjoying an inside joke. “How poorly you understand yourself.
I’m offering you the desires you’re afraid to admit even to yourself.”
“Again, you
don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Monroe
stood up. “No, Michael, I do and let me show you how well I know you. Walk with
me.”
Michael came
to his feet slowly and followed Monroe out into the hallway. “Have you not yet
guessed who I really am?”
“My grasp
of history is sketchy, but I can guess a few things. You surround yourself with
the trappings of the medieval church. You prefer to be called ‘Holiness.’ You
speak of Italy as your place of origin and your servants all have Italian
names. My guess? You were one of the dignitaries of the Roman Catholic church
during the Italian Renaissance. Which one I don’t know, but given what I do
remember about that time, it places you among some of the most despicable
people in human history.”
Monroe
laughed again and began to descend the stairs. “You know enough. All that you
have said is true. The same year that Christopher Columbus discovered this continent,
I arose to the loftiest heights of mortal power. I was master of the whole
world. I was not merely a dignitary of the Church, I was its head. The Vicar of
Christ himself.”
“You were a
Pope?”
“I was. We
were, if I were to speak in the proper way, but that was a long time ago.
Occasionally, I affect that mannerism again, when the fancy strikes me. Still,
I was, for a brief time, ruler of the world.”
“And you
used that lofty position to advance your own desires.”
“Of course.
What else is it for? Three mistresses. Countless other lovers. Nine children. I
played kingmaker, determined the fates of millions. In 1503, I was poisoned by
my enemies, but I had long since gained the attentions of one Tiberius
Catallus, the kindred Prince of Rome. He came to me by night and offered
immortality. I did not refuse his offer.
“For 100
years, I continued to rule. With Tiberius’ blessing, I manipulated events
behind the scenes in the Vatican. My allies among the Consistory, even my
enemies, became my playthings. But I had a bitter rival among the kindred
elite, an ancient Nosferatu from Palestine.”
“Mathias.”
“Yes. He
was there with me in Rome, seeking to thwart my every move. Even then, he found
my tastes to be an abomination. In 1601, Catallus was overthrown in a sudden
coup, his body burned to ashes. An opportunity to succeed my mentor, but I
failed. Mathias outmaneuvered me again and I was forced to flee my beloved
Rome.”
“Where did
you go?”
“My allies,
my childer, and I all went to the one place where I could duplicate my
influence. If Rome was the spiritual capital of the world, then I must find the
world’s political capital. By the beginning of the 17th century,
that meant London. The sun never set on the British Empire, as you may recall.
That reality was just beginning. It was there that I took the name Thomas
Monroe.”
“And there
you remained until, for whatever reason, you came to the United States.”
“1753.
Mathias had long since fled Rome when he too was driven out by a change of
fortunes. He went to the colonies. When my fortunes changed in London, I came
here on the cusp of war with France.”
“One came
alone. One came with a small retinue. One came with an army.” Michael repeated,
remembering what he’d been told about the three elders.
“Indeed. I
found these new lands much to my liking, save for one thing. Mathias had
already built up quite a bit of influence and power here. The southern colonies
were well under his control. I came north and settled here in Philadelphia.”
“And so
your rivalry resumed.”
“Yes. I
deposed Antoinette Devonshire during the Revolution and placed my child, Cecil
Baird, upon the throne of the city. I spent the next 100 years trying to
undermine Mathias, as he did me. Lazarus, my eldest childe, was corrupted and
betrayed me. Then Baird also turned on me at the dawn of the 20th
century. All these were maneuvers by Mathias. But I had learned his weakness. I
sent my most loyal servant to find a beauty that could entrap Mathias and bring
him down once and for all.”
Monroe
stopped walking in front of the painting Michael had noticed earlier. “You know
this story, I presume?”
“Arthurian
legend, like most fantasy stories, has been my bread-and-butter for most of my
life. Yes, I know the tale. Morganna, seeking to usurp her brother, lay with
him and conceived a demon child named Modred.” Michael paused. “A cautionary
tale about the dangers of incest.”
“I suppose
that’s one way to look at it. There’s another part of the Arthur legend that
seems germane. Lancelot was brought low by his own lust for Arthur’s wife,
depriving the king of his greatest champion in his time of need. My plan to
destroy Mathias was similar. Give him his greatest desire and watch her destroy
him. And that’s precisely what happened. She was the instrument of his downfall.”
He gestured to the figure of Morganna.
“Lucy.”
“Your
grandsire. She chose Wen Zhang, the exotic beauty she found in a San Francisco
brothel to be her weapon. And Wen Zhang chose you to be hers.” Monroe paused.
“I know you because I know your pedigree. I know the nature of those who came
before you. I know why they would choose you.”
“And how do
you know Lucy?” Michael asked bluntly.
“She is my
daughter,” said Monroe. “She is the offspring of my mortal body. Her real name
is Lucrezia.”
“Borgia.”
Whispered Michael, remembering his history.
Monroe
smiled. “Yes, now you know who I am and also you know who you are. You are the
grandchilde of my mortal daughter. You have been a pawn in my schemes since the
moment you were embraced.”
“And yet
she is Daeva and you are Mehket.”
“I used my
influence in the Roman court to have her turned by a Daeva ally. I was
forbidden the embrace at that time, but I found a way around it.”
“So it was
all a ruse.” Michael began. “The whole story I was fed about how Deborah fled
from her tyrannical sire with Solomon Wolfe’s aid. None of it happened.”
“Oh, don’t
think ill of your nomadic friend. Solomon is too guileless for such a plan.
Yes, he never killed Lucy, but he was made to think he did. Deborah then
brought him to Roanoke, to Mathias to make herself bait in my trap. Precisely
what she was embraced for. Her whole purpose in being. And she chose you to aid
her in that purpose, to become her soldier, her guardian. And aid her you did.”
“Now that
Mathias is gone, what further purpose would you have of any of us?”
“Well, you
are here.” Said Monroe, stating the obvious. “You are in my city and it seems
such a waste to destroy you, especially since once again I find myself betrayed
by one of my own. I can still use you. You have certainly proven your worth.
Mathias’ top lieutenants died at your hands. I may need you for that sort of
work again.”
“You don’t
believe Mathias is dead.”
“It would not
be that easy to destroy him. But I have beaten him for now, thanks to you and
yours. But he will return and seek his revenge. And then there’s the other great
elder to consider.”
“Ernie.”
“A
perpetual thorn in both our sides since we set foot on this continent. We both
know Ernie has an unhealthy interest in you and we both know that he’s here, in
the city, hovering just out of reach. Your refusal of him in Virginia Beach
five years ago was only a temporary setback to his plans. He will come again
and he will claim what he wants. You, and if he can’t have you, he will take your
consort as a consolation prize.”
Michael
felt a chill run through him at that implication. It was Sarah’s greatest fear,
as he well knew.
“There’s
really only one person who can protect you.”
“You.”
Michael answered with resignation.
Monroe
nodded. “You see, Michael, we need each other. And perhaps that’s how it should
be. We are family. You are a Borgia now; adopted perhaps, but still kin. You
have a Borgia heart, passionate, ambitious, and debauched. Don’t deny it.
Embrace it.”
“Fate, it
would seem, offers me little choice in the matter.” Said Michael. “Dylan knew
that. That’s why he brought me here.”
“This is
where you belong.” Admitted Monroe. “Dylan understood that. Perhaps one day I
will gather all my brood together in this place: Deborah, Lucy, your childer,
just as I have my mortal descendents. The fruit of my vampire blood have proven
most disappointing, but you are another story. Rewards are due and I think you
will find them to your liking.”
“And here
comes you offer. What is it you’ll give me?”
“A throne.”
“You gave
that to Baird and Walsh and they both betrayed you. What makes you so convinced
I won’t do the same?”
“Someday
perhaps, but right now? No, as I said we need each other. I need you to fend
off Walsh and you need me to fend off Ernie and eventually Mathias.”
“You offer
what Ernie offered. What makes you so different?”
“I don’t
recall you minded much the power and influence his meddling granted you.”
“I didn’t.”
Michael admitted.
“Of course
not. It’s what you want and it’s what you need. Power will protect those you
love. Power will grant you what you desire. And without it, you are nothing but
prey. Ernie? Walsh? Mathias? All of them are now gunning for you. You’ve always
known this. Take what I offer and we will rise together.” Monroe extended his
hand.
Michael
hesitated at first. As tyrannical as Mathias had been and as mad as Ernie had
been, Michael now felt, no he knew, that he was standing before the most
diabolical of all three elders. This was a deal with the devil, a creature so
vile and evil that Michael knew he would damn himself by taking him in hand. He
knew now that he’d eventually become just like him. But what choice did he
have? Ernie was out there, close by, seeking to claim Sarah in her madness.
Walsh was not going to easily forget nor forgive the humiliation Rebecca had
visited on him at court the week before. The Dark Brotherhood would also likely
seek further revenge. The Malleus Malificarum was also still out there, looking
for him and his allies.
Solomon’s initial
warnings had proven true. He was way over his head in this city. His coalition
had won a victory, a good victory, but not the war. Walsh and his other enemies
were savvy and powerful, used to playing the long game in ways Michael was
unprepared to handle. The only way out now was through a vampire who had proven
himself a master at that long game. One whose appetites made Caligula and the
Marquis de Sade look tame.
Michael
took Monroe in hand. Monroe smiled. “Good. It is as it should be. You and I
together. Allies. Friends. Family. Come. A celebration is in order.”
Michael
could guess what form that celebration might take and he knew Monroe would find
a way to push his moral and ethical limits. He knew without any doubt that he
would not leave this island without having at least one of his old taboos
broken. Something more of the young morally-upright man he had once been would
die here tonight.
Monroe
marched into the foyer of the palace. “Savina!” he called. As if she had been
expecting his summons, Gaudino’s sister appeared almost immediately. “Summon
the women to the palace. All of them.”
“As you
wish, Holiness.”
“You will
remain with us here as the sun dawns.” Monroe declared to Michael. “And you
will have your choice of my family to accompany you to your slumber. Do with
her or them as you see fit, but I would rather you not kill another of my
servants.”
“Any?” said
Michael as the women and girls shuffled into the room. The children and
mothers-to-be from the pool arrived first. They wore no more clothing than they
had while swimming. Ludovica was next, followed by Angela, the waitress from
the yacht club. Savina brought up the rear.
“Savina is
mine tonight.” Monroe declared quickly, as if to snatch one of the more
conventional options out from under Michael. “Choose from the others.”
Michael
glanced over the remaining. Monroe spoke again. “Ludovica would make a fine
choice. After all, you denied her pleasure earlier tonight. You owe her.”
Ludovica
gave Monroe a disgusted look, as if that was no more appealing to her than it
was to Michael. No, not a child. He would not cross that line tonight, if ever.
“Angela.”
Michael answered at last. “We were denied a night together not long after I
arrived.”
“Ah, yes. I
seem to recall her speaking about that at one point. Fine choice.” Monroe’s
smile broadened. “I should however inform you of something. Angela is not quite
what she seems. Are you, my dear?”
“Not
really, your Holiness.” She pulled up her skirt to reveal to Michael what was
underneath. Michael’s eyes grew wide.
“Angela,”
Monroe explained. “was born Angelo, but as a child, he was a little too fond of
dresses and dolls. So Valentino, the head of the family, had him remade at
great expense. All except for one part.”
“Everyone’s
favorite part.” Angela half-giggled, as if enjoying Michael’s discomfort.
Michael
glared at Monroe balefully. Then he let out his breath in resignation.
Angela
stepped forward. She took Michael in hand and stroked his cheek. “Am I truly so
disgusting?” She asked softly. “We wanted each other once before. My part in
that hasn’t changed.”
Michael
heard echoes of Sarah in her voice, remembering how she’d pleaded with him to
look past her unusual appearance. “I’m guessing I don’t have a choice.” He
muttered to no one in particular.
“You made
your choice.” Said Monroe devilishly. “Now you get to live with it.”
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