Act Two Chapter Fifteen - New York City Boy

“That was different.” Michael admitted out loud as the sun set the next night. He glanced over to find Angela next to him, nude and sleeping on her belly. From this angle, there was no indication that she was anything but a beautiful but ordinary woman. Ever inch of her was that way, all except for the male organ that poked out from between her legs. Whoever had done the gender-reassignment work to her had done a remarkable job.

Making love to her was as much a shock and surprise to Michael as the rest of his experience on Monroe’s island. She went easy on him, as it were; allowing him to penetrate her, to be the “top.” That was less a shock for Michael’s sensibilities and Angela seemed to relish every minute of it.

After a while, so did Michael. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Rebecca had always told him he might enjoy a sexual encounter with another man and while Angela wasn’t quite that, it was certainly closer to it than he’d ever gone before. Maybe Rebecca was onto something with all her talk about the fluidity of sexuality. Maybe he wasn’t as straight as he thought.

Michael found that thought mildly disturbing, but also realized there was an upside. More than one in fact. First, it opened up a whole new world of potential prey for him (and all the pleasures that went with that.) Secondly, if he could find his horizons expanded by this encounter, then perhaps Sarah might also open up further with Rebecca.

As arousing as these epiphanies were proving to be, Michael also had to concede that these new debaucheries carried with them their dangers. First off, he had to admit to himself that Monroe was right about him. Those absolutes, those lines Michael would not cross, might also be more permeable than he believed. Likewise, he had to be careful to not let his lustful curiosity blind him to the dangers of his new partnership.

Despite all his talk of family and kinship, Monroe had to know Michael was a threat to him. An elder of his experience and deviousness would not be so naïve as to think that Michael would surrender all his agency and ambition for a few exotic and taboo fucks. He wanted the throne of Philadelphia and Monroe was willing to give it to him, albeit with conditions and strings and demands attached. Under Monroe’s terms, he would become another Baird or Walsh, a mere puppet to the great elder. Despite his verbal agreement of Monroe’s terms the night before, Michael, then and now, found those terms unacceptable.

But they were allies for the near term. Long term however was another story. Michael was going to have to revolt in some way, regain his autonomy. How and whether it would be something small or grandiose was not something he could divine at this early stage, but there would se something. Michael would have to betray Monroe in the future. That was a given.

And Monroe would undoubtedly guess that. As dawn approached, Michael had a moment of trepidation. He would have to sleep surrounded by Monroe’s minions, people he was certain he could not trust. People who might slay him as he slept, vulnerable and unable to escape.

But the day had passed and Michael was still here, so at least for the time being it seemed Monroe would be true to his word. They would remain allies for now, for better or worse.

Angela rolled over as Michael sat up. She was hard and her face eager. “You good for another round?” She asked.

“Did you not have enough last night?” Michael teased, trying to be playful.

“I’m a Borgia and so are you. Insatiable is in our nature.”

“Perhaps so.” Michael conceded. “But I have a different hunger tonight. I must return to the city and to my allies. We have much to prepare.”

“I will take you back. Give me time to shower and dress.” She jumped up and headed for the bathroom. She paused at the door. “There’s no reason I have to shower alone.” She half-pleaded. “We could satisfy my hungers while making ready to satisfy yours.”

Michael found that logic hard to debate. He stood up and followed after her.

---

As Michael disembarked from the boat, Angela followed him ashore. As he walked to his car and she (presumably) to her job at the yacht club, she grabbed his hand, pulled him to her, and kissed him fiercely. “Something to remember me by.” She teased affectionately. She then put an envelope into his hand.

“I was told to give you this. By His Holiness. The next fruits of your partnership with him.” With that, she continued onward.

Michael opened the envelope. Inside was a cryptic series of numbers and letters.

N 40 05 29

W 75 22 11

01 02 99

2100

He wasn’t quite sure what it all meant, but he wasn’t going to worry about it now. He headed to his car to drive over to Studio Gothic.

---

He climbed the steps to the third floor of Rebecca’s club to a delicious sight. On Rebecca’s bed was Sarah, naked, blindfolded, and bound with chains (the usual accouterments of bondage fetishism were often inadequate to the task of restraining a typical kindred). Lying beside her, giving erotic whisperings into her ear was Rebecca, dressed in a skin-tight leather catsuit. Behind Sarah and plowing into her aggressively was Rebecca’s thrall Audrah.

Michael smiled. This was a pleasant surprise to be witnessing. He walked up behind Audrah casually, his eyes never leaving his diminutive lover. He then turned his attention to the thrall, extending his fangs, and biting down on her neck.

He fed only a little bit before releasing her and giving her a gentle shove out of the way. As she slid away from Sarah, Sarah protested. “Dammit, Michael! I know that’s you.”

Of course she did; blindfolded or not, she could still hear his approach with her vampire ears. Michael looked down on her, vulnerable and helpless. He leaned in.

“You have been showing an uncharacteristic fondness for the affections of other women over these last few weeks. I’m beginning to wonder if you remember what I feel like.” He unzipped his pants and entered her.

Sarah gasped. “Oh, no, I haven’t forgotten.” She purred. “Now finish what Audrah started.”

He did so and it did not take long for either of them; Sarah was well primed and Michael, despite having had Angela not an hour earlier, was far too aroused by what he was seeing to hold out for long. After they both reached climax in turn, Michael looked to Rebecca.

“There’s a story here that I’d like to hear. How’d you talk her into this?”

Sarah answered for her. “She asked me to trust her. I did. I was not disappointed.”

Michael reached up and removed Sarah’s blindfold. Her amber eyes locked with his, filled with satisfaction and pleasure. “I’m disappointed I missed all but the last few minutes of this little game.” He said, working her manacles free.

“There’ll be other times.” Said Sarah confidently.

“Besides, I’m sure Monroe’s little whores kept you nicely entertained while you were away.” Added Rebecca.

Michael looked at her sharply. “You knew?”

“There are rumors that he keeps quite the harem on the island.”

“Those rumors likely don’t tell half the story.”

“So what were your adventures like?” queried Sarah. “You wanted our story. Tell us yours.”

“Monroe is a barbarian.” Michael began with disgust on his voice. “There are no taboos in his world, no pleasure that is not indulged. Children run about naked and available for any who would want them. The siblings of his thrall family copulate freely and openly. And some of the women who live there, and presumably some of the men, were not always born that way. There are no lines that he does not tempt you to cross.”

“And which lines did you cross?” asked Sarah with some trepidation.

“Just one.” He answered honestly, locking eyes with Rebecca. “Sort of. The one you’ve been asking me to cross for some time now.”

“You were with a man?”

“Or as close as I’ve come to it. He is now nearly a she. All but one part.”

“The stories we’ve heard about Thomas Monroe don’t tell that part.” Said Sarah. “They don’t talk about how much of a libertine he apparently is.”

“They do here.” Added Rebecca.

“And we should have guessed.” Interjected Michael. “Mathias was a sanctimonious self-righteous tyrant. Why would he hate a fellow Lancea if they shared similar goals or were of similar character? Obviously, given their hate, they would not be. Mathias was a true believer, but Monroe is one that uses religion to an end and that end is debauchery. That’s not much of a surprise given his origins. I know his real name, his birth name. I know some of his story now, but on that I must remain silent until I have a conversation with someone. With Deborah.”

“What does she have to do with anything?” asked Rebecca.

“All will be revealed in time. Trust is at the heart of what we are, but it means more than just allowing each other to expand our sexual horizons. Please, there are truths here that cannot be revealed until I have consulted with my sire. Trust me in this.

“In the mean time, we are now in league with Monroe. I made a pact of alliance with him. He will aid us against Ernie and Walsh and the Brotherhood, and we will aid him against Walsh in turn. He is fully aware that Walsh is going to betray him, but like Dylan, he does not know when and how.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to let Walsh finish Monroe off and then strike at Walsh?” said Sarah. “He is the weaker of the two of them or at least will be in the long run.”

“Perhaps.” Replied Michael. “But that’s moot now. Walsh will be gunning for us after the humiliation we heaped upon him at court two weeks ago. And then there’s the Dark Brotherhood. I have no proof, but my instincts tell me they are at the heart of all this. Mitch says they worship and serve a real genuine honest-to-God demon born out of the pit of hell. Whether it is that or just some twisted creature from the various spirit realms that lie invisible around us, I do not know, but it offers power and it will want something in exchange for that power. If Walsh gives it what it wants, I fear for us all.”

He paused. “Monroe is a monster, twisted beyond comprehension. But despite that, I believe Walsh and his Brotherhood allies are the greater threat. I think Monroe believes that too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be making alliances with the likes of us.”

“So what now?” Rebecca asked.

“Monroe gave me this letter as I left his island.” He pulled the paper from his pocket. “Not sure what it means.”

Sarah peeked at the paper. “Looks like coordinates and a date and time. Forty degrees and change north, Seventy five degrees west. The second of January at 9:00pm.”

“We can track down those coordinates via the internet.” Added Rebecca. “We can find out where that is. Monroe’s arranged a meeting for you. Best not miss it.”

---

Sarah’s instincts had been right. The coordinates pin-pointed a location outside the city, but not far away. It was in King of Prussia, one of the Montgomery County suburbs that lined the northern border of the city. The exact location was a Hilton hotel along Dekalb Pike.

Michael remembered from Dylan’s primer that the northern suburbs were hotly contested between the changelings of Tatiana’s court and the vampires of the Sangiovanni family/coterie. The massive King of Prussia mall, one of the largest in the United States, was said to be prime changeling territory and it was less than half a mile away from where Michael now found himself.

Thus, he was somewhat nervous as he walked inside the hotel lobby. Still, he figured this was some sort of meet-and-greet for the Sangiovanni, who Michael noted had been absent at both Art Museum events. Monroe had set up some manner of meeting, perhaps to secure funds to better establish Michael in the city. That would largely be unnecessary; Michael still had the vast majority of his $10 million from selling Nightstyles. But it didn’t hurt to see what more he could get out of Monroe’s secretive allies.

Sarah and Rebecca came up behind him. Michael looked back to Rebecca in particular and noted she was being hyper-vigilant as well, her eyes constantly darting about looking for potential threats. The lobby of the hotel was reasonably full for the time of night, most of them folks who had lingered for an extra day or two after the New Years festivities. Among them, neither Michael nor Rebecca spotted any obvious changelings.

They did not see any vampires either.

Michael moved over to the lobby’s sofa and took a seat. Sarah and Rebecca both flanked him, sitting down themselves. Rather boastfully, Michael spread out his arms and made an obvious show of embracing the two women to him. Across from them, a man with a newspaper dog-eared the corner of his paper to glare at them with some envy, but no one else much cared.

“I thought that would make an impression.” Michael whispered with disappointment.

“Show off.” Teased Sarah.

A young man in a dark sport coat emerged from down the hall. He glanced about the crowded lobby before his eyes settled on Michael and his entourage. He advanced on them, a deliberateness in his stride. Michael untangled from his lovers and stood up.

“Mr. Allens?” The man asked.

Michael nodded.

“We are pleased you could be here. I am Gabriel Levine. I am an employee of Mr. Bernardo Sangiovanni, who awaits upstairs. Would you and your companions please come with me.”

Michael followed, as did Sarah and Rebecca. After being swamped with Italians at Monroe’s island, Michael was surprised to find the Sangiovanni, a bloodline whose origins also lay in Medieval Italy, to have a Jewish employee. Although there were those old stereotypes about Jews and banking, stereotypes born out of old Roman Catholic laws that prevented Jews from owning farmland and forbade Christians from lending money with interest. Michael wondered if this was all interconnected somehow.

Levine led them up to the penthouse suite and opened the door for them. At that point, he took his leave and let the trio enter the room unaccompanied. The main room of the suite was empty, but they could hear someone mulling about in the adjoining bedroom.

A small dark-haired man emerged. He was not attractive in any way, but his eyes were dark as midnight and sharp, not missing a single thing. He was well-dressed in a suit that probably cost as much as Michael’s rare muscle car.

“Good evening.” He said in greeting. “I am Bernardo Sangiovanni.”

“Michael Allens. Rebecca Philips. Sarah Cobbler.”

“A Carthian and two Invaders.” Noted Bernardo, clearly up to date on their coterie memberships. “Monroe asked me to meet with you, and I’m going to guess that he left it vague enough so that you did not know you would have no need of your bodyguards.”

“More consorts than bodyguards.” Replied Michael. “But you’re right about being vague. Not even an address, just coordinates on a map.”

“He does like to play games with people. A puzzle you clearly figured out. Good. I’m also guessing he did not tell you why you are here.”

“Not a word.”

“And yet you came anyway.”

“Call me curious.”

“A dangerous trait, but sometimes quite rewarding. Tonight will prove the latter, I think you will find. Sit. I can summon up a few tasty morsels if you desire blood. Or we can settle for mortal food and drink if you’d like. I have some Cognac and some single malt Scotch here, or I can obtain something else if you desire.”

“You are a generous host. Thank you, but not necessary.” Said Michael as he sat. As they had downstairs, Rebecca and Sarah flanked him. “So why am I here?”

“In the almost three months since you have arrived, you have outmaneuvered Walsh at nearly every turn. He confined you and yours to a backwater suburb and you almost immediately snatched two additional territories out from under their previous owners. And while Villanova and Bala Cynwyd have their value as hunting grounds, you have no economic powerbase in this city. No property, no mortal allies beyond those you brought with you. Yes, you have a coalition with some of the mages and werewolves, but you are still largely unestablished here. Monroe has asked me to remedy that.”

“And how is that supposed to happen?”

“That will depend largely on you. What do you want? The police? The media? A business? A criminal empire? Many of these things are up for grabs. They’re on the market, their current owners either dead or amenable to the right price.”

“A price you will provide.”

“Precisely.”

“And what are the strings?”

“I think you’re smart enough to know without asking. By making you into a substantial investment for my family, I secure your loyalty. At least for the time being.”

“What you can buy me, you can also take away.”

“Yes, which gives you incentive to hold fast to your agreement to His Holiness. You and I are the only true allies Thomas Monroe has left in this city and neither he nor I are very sure about you. Your reputation for ambition is well known to us.”

“Let’s not mince words.” Said Michael. “You believe I will betray you. You rightly point out that I do have this powerful coalition of allies. I also have my enemies: Walsh, the Dark Brotherhood mages, the Malleus Malificarum hunters. The other kindred of the city trust me no more than you, including the Carthians save for Rebecca here. The whole damned lot of you is terrified of me. And that’s exactly what I wanted.”

Michael paused to let that sink in. “And now you’re all doing everything you can to win my loyalty. Monroe offers carnality and forbidden lusts, knowing that is part of my nature too. You dangle money in the hopes of gaining some leverage and control over me. All this you offer because you’re more afraid of Walsh than you are of me. You want me as your weapon against him. Fine. Mold me as you see fit. I have no interest in betraying Monroe. At the moment, I have nothing to gain by it. I rose to power in Tidewater playing this same game. Prince Maximilian used me, made me similar offers, and here we are again. He gave me the world and now you offer the same. Why would I ever say no?”

“Prince Maximilian betrayed you in time.”

“And yet, I am still here. Perhaps there’s a lesson in that for you and yours.” Michael let the threat dangle. “Let’s just stop pretending that betrayal and treachery isn’t par for the course here. Max supported me, built me up, and then in time turned on me. I’m not so naïve to think you will not do the same. But that’s whenever, some time in the future. That’s down the road a ways, as the folk where I grew up say. Right now is another matter entirely.

“And on that matter, I will accept your gifts. I will do your bidding. And for now and for as long as needed, we can be friends. And when I or you decide we are no longer friends, well, let’s just say that will be an interesting night. Now back to your offer. You ask what I want. I want South Street. I want the club district. That was where I thrived best in Tidewater and I intend to do the same here.”

“Your companion might have her issues with that.”

“We three are one. Rebecca’s club is a beginning. I want one of my own, not to compete with her, but to thrive alongside her.”

“There is some property up for sale.” Added Rebecca. “A few blocks down from Studio Gothic, towards the riverfront. It’s not a club, but it could be fashioned into one with some work.”

“Contractors don’t typically work in the winter time.” Said Bernardo.

“They do if you offer them enough. Buy the property, Mr. Sangiovanni. I’ll foot the bill for the conversion, the architects, the interior designers, the whole works. You’ll own the property, but I’ll collect the profits.”

“Very well. We have an accord then. I will see to it that the paperwork is drawn up and delivered to you.”

---

It wasn’t two weeks before work began on “Club CRASS,” as Michael named it.

The word CRASS was a joke, an acronym highlighting Michael’s musical tastes: Country and Rap Are Stupid Shit. He’d gotten the idea from CBGB, the famous club in New York whose name was also an acronym for “Country, Bluegrass, and Blues.” CBGB however never hosted anyone of those particular genres and Michael hoped that his bit of humor would not prove a likewise reverse prophecy.

Michael had a vision of what this club was to be. New Wave and Eurodance music. A particular Art Deco aesthetic. Neon lights. A bit of Amsterdam meets Miami meets 1920s New York City. He threw himself into the design of the interior, and most nights after the work had begun, he tried to be found on site to guide the construction as best he could into his vision. Being a vampire and unable to move about in daylight made that often tricky.

It was a busy Saturday night on South Street, but Michael was wanting to see the progress thus far. So he took a walk from Studio Gothic down the handful of blocks to the newly purchased Club CRASS. Rebecca elected to join him.

“Wouldn’t you have a bit of work to do tonight?” Michael wondered aloud as they walked.

“My staff can handle it.” She said confidently. “I spend most Saturday nights leaving the work to them and prowling the dance floor for some tasty little thing to bring upstairs.”

“Like Audrah?”

“Little isn’t exactly the word I’d use for her, but yeah.”

“Well, speaking of adjectives used to describe our prey, have you considered snatching up the girl you stole her from? Adrienne definitely fits the bill for tasty.”

“Are you trying to find me a new plaything?”

“Anything to make you happy.” Michael said with a broad smile.

“We’ll see.” As they crossed the street, they spotted a scruffy looking bald man opposite, playing a guitar with a small jar for change. Michael recognized the song he was playing as one he’d heard a lot in church as a teen.

Rebecca stopped, fished out a $100 bill and dropped it into the jar. The man smiled at her, but did not stop playing his song.

“Make sure your people get an extra helping tomorrow.” Said Rebecca to the man. He nodded and then she moved on.

“You know that guy?” Michael asked.

“His name is Jonathan.” She began. “Jonathan Gaines. He runs a street mission a couple blocks up. A good place for the hookers, the homeless, the runaways, and anyone else who lives and works on these streets to go if they need a warm bed and a hot meal.”

“It surprises me that you would care so much.”

Rebecca gave him a sharp look. “Well, maybe the good little church girl inside me isn’t completely gone. Really though, you learn pretty quick on these streets who is predator and who is protector. About eight months ago, I saw a pimp come after Jonathan for harboring one of his girls. Threatened him, beat him, but Jonathan stood his ground and would not let him have her. That pimp was found floating in the Delaware two days later with his throat cut.”

“Your work?”

Rebecca merely smiled in answer to that. “I told Jonathan he would have no more problems like that. I may not agree with his theology or worldview, but he’s the real deal and those are people you want around. He’s one. The Catholic priest that runs the orphanage and school a few blocks south is another; DeGrassi’s his name. They do good work.”

“If they’re too successful, it works against us. We want people to come down here to live it up. Picking up a hooker for a quickie in the back alley is part of that.”

“Yeah, but think of it this way. I’d rather have the girls in my club plying their trade than on the streets. Out here, they belong to their pimps. Inside, I get some say.”

Michael stopped walking. “You know, I think you just gave me an idea.”

She likewise paused. “And that is?”

“What if we were the pimps? What if the girls answered to us? You want to help them like these preachers do? Maybe that’s a way. Treat ‘em good. Clean them up. Take a more reasonable cut from their take than their current pimps do. Gives us money, gives us a ready source of blood, and gives us a powerbase with which to leverage our rivals. Everybody wins.”

“Except the pimps. They won’t be too happy about it.”

“There’s always your blade and the Delaware.”

Rebecca laughed. “I’m going to enjoy our partnership.”

The two walked another 100 feet or so and then turned inside Club CRASS. Work was very preliminary at this stage, but you could start to get the sense of what Michael had envisioned for his club.

“I’m not convinced giving Sangiovanni ownership of the property itself was a good idea.” Said Rebecca, as they looked things over.

“You know he wouldn’t have agreed to anything less.” Michael countered. “We'll figure something out later.”

“I could own two clubs.” Said Rebecca slyly. "Pay off your debt."

“And then give it back to me if I asked real nice?”

“Of course. Hell, I’m in negotiations for the occult shop down the street. Figured that would be a nice little present to give to our dear Sarah.”

“Our Sarah? I like that. If you need some extra funds to secure it…”

“No, I may not have enough to buy you your club right now, but I can handle a little storefront.” She paused and looked at Michael. “You know, I wanted to tell you this. But you astounded me the other night when we met with Sangiovanni. I know I often surprise you with how different I can be from the person I once was, from the person you knew as a human. But holy shit, you can do the same with me. I suppose I should have known, given all that you’ve done as kindred. But damn, Michael, you can be quite a badass. You commanded that room. Sangiovanni is secretly one of the richest people in the world and you handled him with complete confidence. You made him your bitch and that was really cool to see.” She paused again. “This might actually work. We might actually win.”

“Might.” Said Michael. “We’ve not won yet and our enemies are not to be underestimated. But yeah, we’ve got a good shot.”

Act Three