Where the hell have I been?

I pretty much dropped off with PbN after February. A number of things happened to contribute to this.

First, I got super-busy with work.

Second, because I got super-busy with work, I got super-stressed-out.

Third, because I got super-stressed-out, I triggered a massive flare-up of my chronic illness. Put me in the hospital for a week and into a months-long period of recovery.

Well, I'm back now and I beginning work anew on PbN. Reading over my last blog posts from February, I don't remember if I've done any of the proposed edits I spoke of here. But I have begun moving the story forward and chapters 4 & 5 of Act Three should be up in the next few days.

I wasn't going to do this...I really wasn't.

I'm almost done with my reread of Act Four. When I set out to do this, I wanted to do two things. One was to see how the story read as an actual novel instead of a series of blog posts and it holds up pretty well. Two was to catch various editing errors: grammar, spelling, and places where the text was just awkward and clunky.

I was not doing this to find plot holes or errors in the story. I was not planning to do any major rewrites at all. I was going to let the story stand as is, warts and all. But now I've stumbled onto errors that I feel need addressing, that I can't ignore. And by opening this door, I'm not sure if I'm going to stop.

Error #1 is pretty minor. There's a throwaway line from Solomon somewhere in Act Four where he talks about how surprised everyone was at Mathias' obsession over Deborah. Given that the story up until then does a very good job of establishing what an open secret Mathias' perversions are, that's a pretty glaring error. But correcting it is easy. It's one line. Fix it or remove it and we're done.

Error #2 is not so simple and it's one of the great unanswered questions of VbN. Why does Cranston spare Sarah instead of killing her? This suffers a bit from the same critique I made of Act Two in the first of these posts: something happens because the plot demands it so, not because it's logical or rational. Sarah has to be alive to go to Philadelphia, but she doesn't follow Michael back to Blacksburg. Therefore...Cranston has to "kill" her, but not really. I can live with the fact that this mimics Rebecca's fate in Act Two (She's dead, but she really isn't.) But that had an explanation behind it with The Djinn's scheming. Sarah's removal from the picture does not.

I do have a way to explain this, but it'll require a rewrite of a pivotal scene in PbN Act Two. Since that's still a work in progress, maybe that isn't so bad.

Error #3 is somewhere in the middle. There's a conversation between Deborah and Rebecca and a later internal monologue in Rebecca that is much more negative towards Michael than it should be. It makes Rebecca's later forgiveness and embrace of Michael in PbN somewhat jarring. Those passages should be more ambivalent, written in such a way that makes you wonder how Rebecca will truly react when she meets Michael again. As it stands, you'd expect something completely different than what happens.

So what am I going to do about this? I've got some time this afternoon to work on some of these and it's actually kind of nice that I do have time to dedicate to the story again. I'll probably take advantage and do some rewriting. I know I said I wouldn't, but hopefully I can find a way to remedy this.

The Kindle Re-read Project Part Two

I'm into reading Act Four of VbN by now and I have further observations.

• This is becoming as much an exercise in editing as much as anything. I need to fire my editor, so many errors I'm finding. I said last time that I was surprised at how few spelling and grammar errors I was finding. Not anymore.
• One of the weirder errors is something that must be happening somewhere in the transfer from website to document to PDF. A lot of proper nouns are losing the spaces either before or after. For instance, people are "fromRoanoke" or reading "Game of Throneswhen." It's odd and I'm spending a lot of my new editing energy fixing these.
• I'm really pleased at how well I telegraph future plot developments. My biggest worry as a writer is creating characters that are inconsistent and unrealistic. I have not failed at that here. 
• Michael is very much the sexual predator he self-deludes himself into believing he is not (I've lost count the number of times he deliberately seduces a under-the-age-of-consent minor. No children, but he rides that line as close as he can.) 
• Sarah's jealousy is well-established. 
• Rebecca's fondness for Michael and her willingness to forgive him in PbN is nicely set up. 
• Hell, there's even a throw-away line in the very beginning of VbN Act One that mentions Michael's sister, so her arrival on the scene in PbN Act One isn't as jarring as I thought it would be.
• It's interesting how you can see I shifted my approach mid-stream. VbN Acts Three and Four are really not parts three and four of a single Virginia by Night novel. They're really written as separate 150 or so page novellas. In some ways, the story is presently structured like so...
• VbN Act One & Two = Part One
• VbN Act Three = Part Two
• VbN Act Four = Part Three
• PbN 1999 = Part Four
• The above is really sloppy writing, but again going back through and fixing this problem is really beyond the scope of my time and energy right now. PbN Act Three is huge and between work, family, and Warlords of Draenor I don't have the time I need to dedicate to it. Let alone anything else.

The Kindle Re-read Project

In addition to working on PbN Act Three, I've also begun converting the text of VbN into PDF to read on my Kindle. It's interesting to read through the story like it's an actual book. I've gotten through Act Two so far and I'm enjoying it, but I have noticed a few things...

• More than a few spelling and grammar errors, but not as many as I expected.
• Pretty much every African-American character that appears "on-screen", major or minor, is half-white. I had forgotten Boar is such, but so too is the big basketball player Rebecca tries to pick up the night she's discovered by Deborah and so is little Matthew (Leigh's son). Probably need to remedy this at some point. I'm not sure I like the statement it makes.
• Act Two feels more problematic than I remember it. I know where it comes from. Act Two was really an effort in avoiding things-happen-because-the-plot-demands-that-they happen and it was not entirely successful. I'm not sure what, if anything, I can do about that without a major rewrite (Something at this point, I'm not keen on doing while I'm working on PbN.)
• Overall, I can see my writing style evolve chapter by chapter. That's kinda cool.

Act Three Chapter Three - All the Things She Said

“Tri…dva…odin. Poyti!” The Russian soldier counted down. His partner slammed the battering ram hard into the door. It flew open with sudden violence and the police poured into the gap.

Alex McCoid, Agent A of Task Force Valkyrie, kept his distance. As a foreign observer, here to help the Russians track down one of their most notorious criminals, he was not technically allowed to be a part of the raid. Still, dressed in body armor with his Jericho sidearm neatly tucked behind his waistband, he sure felt like he was a part of this.

Inside the old ramshackle warehouse, the rat-a-tat of automatic weapons fire could be heard and the strobe-light effect of muzzle flashes could be seen. These Chechen terrorists (or freedom fighters depending on your perspective) were putting up quite a fight. Alex cared little for the nuisances of international politics involved in this. He was only after one person: Konstantin Orlov.

The notorious mobster had been on the run for most of a decade, flitting from one country to another. Interpol couldn’t pin him down. He’d been in Prague, Istanbul, Philadelphia, Tokyo, all over the map. Now it was Moscow, right under the nose of the Russian Federation government. Maybe this time he’d slipped up. Maybe this time, they could get him at last.

Alex was there because he knew something about Orlov that most people didn’t. Orlov was not human. He was a werewolf and that was one of the reasons he’d risen as high and as far as he had in the Russian mob. When you regenerate nearly any wound inflicted upon you by your enemies, you tend not to be easily stopped. Orlov had a reputation for that and it extended outside the mob as well as within. How many police had died by his hand after they though they’d had him down?

Alex hoped it wouldn’t come to that again. He pulled his Jericho free from its holster and ejected the mag. He knew he’d loaded it with silver bullets, but with nothing else to do until his Russian companions gave the all clear or things went south, he figured he’d double check. Again.

“All clear.” Came the call over the radio in heavily accented English, a message meant for Alex’s ears. He came up from his crouch and advanced inside cautiously, holding the Jericho at the ready. With Orlov, things were never quite “all clear.”

The building was littered with bodies, mostly of the Chechen fighters. They had been taken by surprise and, despite their valiant and spirited defense, had been quickly overwhelmed. A few of the Russian police were also down. The wounded were being tended to; the dead were left where they fell.

“You Americans are paranoid.” Laughed Pyotr Kuznetsov, the big former Spetznaz who’d been Alex’s minder for his Russian adventure. He’d been the one who called the “all clear” and was waiting for Alex to enter. “You do not need gun now.”

“You know his reputation.”

“He is not here. He escaped again.”

“Damn.” Growled Alex. “To where?”

“We have prisoner. A shlyukha. I do not know English word for this.”

Alex however knew enough rudimentary Russian to translate the term. Like many a good student, the first words he learned in any language were the profanities and insults.

“It’s ‘whore.’ That’s the word you’re looking for.”

“Thank you.” Pyotr grinned like one of those students who’d learned a new naughty word in a foreign language.

Pyotr’s insulting descriptor certainly fit the bill. The back room of the warehouse was an office that had been converted into living quarters for the rebel cell’s leader. He lay on the floor in an expanding pool of blood. His woman was in his bed, dressed in a camisole, her hands up in surrender, while two of Pyotr’s fellow soldiers kept their AKs trained on her.

“Such heavy firepower for such a delicate thing.” Alex muttered aloud. The Russians gave no response, likely unable to understand him across the language barrier.

The woman looked at Alex when he entered and they locked eyes for a brief moment. “She’s not afraid.” Alex whispered to Pyotr.

“No?”

“I would be if two soldiers were bearing down on me with assault…” He didn’t finish his sentence before the woman suddenly jumped up and morphed into the massive battle form of the werewolf.

Alex felt the overwhelming terror of Lunacy well up within him. But he’d been trained to resist it so he gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus. His Russian companions however panicked immediately. But panicked or not, the two with the AKs right next to the shlyukha were torn apart before they could run.

Alex dove for the exit just as the werewolf grabbed Pyotr and flung him through the wall. The big Russian hit the concrete floor hard and rolled a few more feet. Alex couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. There was no time to find out. The werewolf burst forth from the back room and let out a soul-shattering howl.

That broke the rest of the Russian soldiers, who immediately dropped everything and ran. Alex, as the only person in the room in control of his faculties, was immediately made the next target. He scrambled for cover, trying to stay one step ahead of the 8 foot tall monster that was chasing him.

For its size, the beast was blindingly fast. It grabbed Alex by the back and flung him into the air like he was an old unwanted toy. He landed hard on top of a wooden crate and then rolled off the side. His back felt like fire and he prayed the impact had not shattered his vertebrae.

He rolled over, ignoring the pain. Pain was good. If he hurt, he likely wasn’t paralyzed. The wolf tore around the corner, pausing for a second to dispatch a wounded Russian who was trying to drag himself to safety. That half second pause was precisely what Alex needed to draw a bead on the monster with his Jericho.

He squeezed the trigger and saw blood explode from the beast’s leg. It howled in agony; the silver had done its work. But now he’d really made it mad. It turned towards him and charged.

Alex held steady. He couldn’t run; he’d never get to his feet in time. He fired again and a third time. Each shot struck the beast in the same wounded leg. Then a fourth. The wolf pitched forward on its face, its leg shredded by the silver wounds. It could no longer walk. It could no longer run.

It began to crawl towards Alex, still determined to get a hold of him. Alex stood up and trained his weapon on its head. “Enough!” He barked, uncertain if the beast could understand him. “One more step and I put a round through your head.”

The beast paused. Maybe it could understand English after all. It snarled at him in futility and then morphed back into a girl.

“That’s better.” Said Alex, his weapon still trained on her. “Now, tell me what I want to know and I’ll get someone to see to that leg. Refuse and I’ll end you.”

The wolf’s wounds were evident on the woman. Her leg was mangled by the four shots he’d planted in it; he’d nearly amputated it. But despite the pain, the woman seemed to remain defiant.

“Where’s Orlov?” Alex demanded.

The woman stared at him, the same stare she’d given him before she’d revealed her true nature. For a moment, it seemed she wouldn’t answer. “Home.” She said in rough English. “He went home.”

Alex relaxed from his stance and released his grip on the pistol, dangling it from his finger by the trigger guard to show her he was standing down. “Thank you. I promised a medic. Let me fetch one.” He paused and made a scolding gesture. “No more wolf.”

Alex trotted over to Pyotr. He groaned and came to his feet. “What happen?” he muttered, his memories hazy from Lunacy.

“The beast is gone. The girl’s hurt. Summon the squad back.”

Pyotr nodded and barked something in Russian into his radio. Slowly, the dazed and confused soldiers shuffled back in, none of them with any clear recollection of what had just happened to them.

“The girl told me where to find Orlov.” Alex shared with Pyotr.

“Where the zmeya now?”

“Home.”

“That could mean two places. He was born in Smolensk. But after fall of communists, he emigrated to USA.”

“And took up residence in Philadelphia. Looks like the next step of the trail has us parting ways, Pyotr.”

“You check Philadelphia. I check Smolensk.”

“And good luck to us both.”

---

Jet lag is a terrible thing. Alex’s flight back from Moscow was uneventful, but now he found himself in his Washington D.C. apartment wide awake at 2:00am.

He had stripped down his Jericho and was cleaning it. Silver was softer than jacketed lead and had a bad habit of gumming up gun barrels after repeated firing. So to avoid any future problems, Alex had made a habit of cleaning his weapons frequently.

He was disappointed that it had taken four shots to cripple the werewolf and bring it under control. His Jericho was 9mm and while he liked the feel of the weapon in his hand and its compact size, he wasn’t sure he could trust it against the sorts of foes he might encounter in his line of work. An avid gun collector, Alex had also set out a variety of other handguns to see if any of them might better suit his needs.

After cleaning the Jericho, he picked up one gun, a massive AMT Auto Mag. This was the pride and joy of his collection, an exceedingly rare gun most famously seen in the Dirty Harry movie Sudden Impact. Alex’s weapon was even rarer than the regular gun, since his was gold plated, a unique weapon he’d bought from a collector overseas some ten years ago.

Alex grew up the son of wealthy parents in Malibu. A wayward youth, he and his brother spent most of their days on the beach, surfing and living it up. A sudden heart attack claimed his father when he was 16 and his mother then succumbed to cancer a year later. The double tragedy left both brothers even more adrift, although their substantial inheritance afforded them a great deal more options than most orphans. Adrian, Alex’s brother, went off to college and eventually seminary to became an Episcopal priest. Alex went into the military.

Alex excelled in the Army, because he’d found (somewhat unnervingly) his true talent. He was good at killing people. Both he and Adrian had learned a variety of martial arts, including Jeet Kun Do, as teens, but now as a soldier Alex could put those skills as well as his expert marksmanship to lethal use. Before long, he was in Delta, the elite anti-terrorist corps of the US Army, and on his way to Somalia.

Black Hawk Down told the story of one of the other helicopters on Alex’s most infamous mission. His chopper, however, made to it their target. As brutal as his comrades experience had been, Alex always wished he’d been on the downed chopper. At least, they were shooting at enemies who were in turn trying to kill them. The people at the warlord’s compound conversely were mostly civilians: women, old men, and even children, but they were mowed down all the same.

When Alex refused to shoot a ten year old girl, his superiors brought him up on insubordination charges and drummed him out of the service with a dishonorable discharge. He went back to Malibu, his life’s purpose snatched out from under him, and that was when “Mr. Maverick” came calling. Maverick was the code name for any number of interchangeable government operatives and this one had come to recruit Alex into TFV. That was almost five years ago now and he hadn’t looked back since.

A knock came at Alex’s door. He quickly scanned the clock; 2:31am was an odd time for a visitor at the door. He grabbed the Auto Mag and chambered a mag. The gun had an odd caliber (44 Magnum rounds were normally rimmed for use in revolvers, not semi-automatics) so this one required special cartridges and Alex always kept a magazine handy. He went to the door.

“Who is it?”

“Mr. Maverick.” Came back a voice with a strong Georgia drawl.

Alex opened the door and motioned his visitor inside. This particular Maverick he’d dealt with before, a dark haired mustached gentleman that seemed more at home in a recreation of the antebellum South than as a black ops government agent.

“I do hope that weapon is not for me.” Said Maverick playfully.

“Can’t be too careful in our line of work.” Alex ejected the mag and then slid back the slide, palming the chambered round. “Two in the morning is not exactly the time most people make social calls.”

“The United States government never sleeps.” Said Maverick. He tossed a folder onto the table next to Alex’s assorted handguns. “I read your initial report from Moscow. You believe Orlov is in Philadelphia?”

“It’s one of two options.” Said Alex. “The other is his birth city in Russia.”

“I have new orders for you. You and your squad are going after Orlov.”

“So soon? Why is he suddenly such a high priority target?”

“We have reason to suspect he’s procured a significant batch of surplus weaponry from the former Soviet army. That’s the reason he was in Moscow to begin with. If he’s brought them back here, he’s like to sell them to interested parties. With this Y2K crap and everybody going on about the end-of-the-world, Lord knows what manner of mischief those guns might cause.” Maverick paused to look Alex in the eye. “Besides, we all know what he really is and we all know that Philadelphia is swarming with all manner of Extra Normal Entities. Imagine them getting their hands on those weapons and you can bet the havoc that will cause.”

“I’ll get my team together.”

“Good. I’ll be your liaison in Philadelphia. You leave tomorrow.”

---

The planetarium at the Franklin Institute was closed this Sunday for reasons unstated. To any casual observer, there was nothing wrong with it, but it was closed nonetheless. Of course, the fact that the museum director was friend and servant of a powerful Consilium mage had nothing to do with anything.

Martin plopped down into a seat and rolled his eyes. Most of the other mages ignored him, Anna, and Mitch. They were still personae non gratae, at least officially, in the Consilium. Yet, despite that, they’d been summoned to this meeting.

Thaddeus Zao stood up in front of the group. The Hierarch looked tired and grumpy. He did not want to be here anymore than the rest of them. Moving beside him was Gretchen Mosley, the sub-Hierarch, a stately woman in her late 50s. Normally, she would linger in the background. That she was joining Zao center stage told Martin she was the one really running the show today.

“I have called you here today first off to offer the gratitude of the Consilium to our three most wayward members.” Zao relished the dig he got at Martin and his companions. “The shooting incident at Temple was resolved with minimal bloodshed thanks to their intervention.”

“Are we off the hook?” Anna barked loudly, interrupting the Hierarch.

Zao’s eyes flashed in anger. Whether at Anna’s interruption or at the fact that he was being forced to laud three mages he now loathed, Martin wasn’t sure. Either way, the Hierarch composed himself and continued.

“Which leads me to the second reason I’ve summoned the lot of you. It has become obvious that the Gauntlet between worlds is growing weaker. The spirit behind the incident at Temple was stopped, but it will not be the last. You need to be informed of the dangers. The spirit realm is going to begin spilling over into the material world with increasing frequency as time goes on.”

The room exploded in upheaval. Several of the mages shot to their feet, loudly accusing the Hierarch of all manner of malfeasance. Martin frowned. Now he knew why Mosley was front and center. Zao would have wanted to censor such news and keep it hidden from the rest of the Consilium. Such serious news would have only fueled the voices of dissension against Zao’s lackluster leadership further and that was exactly what was happening. If the Gauntlet was weakening, then the Brotherhood would undoubtedly take advantage, meaning the Consilium could no longer afford to wait things out. They had to act, the one thing Zao was always refusing to do.

“Why?” Martin barked over the din. If Anna could be bold, so could he.

The uproar in the room began to subside. Zao turned his attentions to Martin. “Excuse me, Mr. Lovejoy?”

“Why is the Gauntlet weakening?”

“Like all things magical, the Gauntlet is strengthened by the power of unbelief. Unbelief is weakening however. More and more people are buying into the hysteria surrounding the coming new year. This Y2k tech glitch along with the mad ravings of preachers and self-appointed prophets is convincing more and more people that the end of the world is truly at hand.”

“What nonsense.” Growled another mage. “It’s just a number. Besides, the Bible said that people would not know when Jesus would return. Of course, that’s presuming any of its real to begin with. And even if it were, the monks got it wrong. If this was about the end-of-the-world coming 2000 years after the birth of Christ, it would have happened three years ago.”

“None of that matters.” Said Mitch, speaking for the first time. “Fact is irrelevant. Truth is irrelevant. Perception and belief is what matters most here. We all know how unbelief works. The collective will of humanity enforces a scientific worldview upon us that denies the existence of anything supernatural. If that changes though and people begin believing in supernatural occurrences, unbelief will grow weaker. Magic will become easier and the barriers between this world and the spiritual realms that surround it will erode.”

“Which is precisely what’s happening.” Said Mosley. “The more people become convinced that something is going to happen on New Years Eve, the more likely something will.”

“You can bet money the Brotherhood will be behind whatever that is.” Added Martin.

“We have no evidence of Brotherhood activity at this time.” Interjected Zao. “And this is not the time for anything rash.” A collective groan went up from the crowd. “Since all this is tied to the new year, we may be able to wait things out. If nothing happens, and nothing will happen, things will restore to normal once the new year comes without incident. Until then, we plug holes where we can. Each of you will be responsible for keeping your eyes open for spiritual activity. Reporting it and resolving it as best you can. That is all.”

Martin stood up as the mages filtered out. “He’s like a broken record.” He growled. “Same shit. Different day.”

“When all you have is a hammer…” said Mitch. “Zao’s solution to every problem is the same. Ignore it, wait, and maybe it’ll go away.”

“He’s like a parent that won’t let his children grow up.” Added Anna. “Complaining about him isn’t changing things though. He’s losing his grip. Mosley’s going to take over soon.”

“Good.” Said Martin. “Because if the Gauntlet is getting weaker on this side, you can bet the Brotherhood’s pet demon is knocking on the other side looking for a way through. And God help us all if it finds one.”

---

Mitch kept his eyes open, glancing up and down the street. Night #2 of Club CRASS was quieter than the big opening, but it was still plenty busy and far busier than most any other club on this Sunday night. With the staff not completely in place, Michael had come to rely on his friends and his Carthian allies to fill in the gaps. Thus, Mitch found himself one of tonight’s front door bouncers.

Mitch was not a big man like Boar, but he carried himself with the smooth confidence of someone who knew what he was doing. And he also could project a sinister edge. After all, he was someone who had killed before and like the vampires he’d befriended, Mitch could project that truth in ways that made people not want to fuck with him. The line waiting to get in was impatient, but peaceful, so his job tonight was easy. It gave him something to do while he waited for midnight and Michael’s big meeting.

Inside, Michael was using this time to interview candidates for the various staffing positions that were still open. Mitch had waved in an attractive woman in her mid-40s just a few minutes earlier. Her name was Diane and she was one of the likely candidates for the club’s bookkeeper and accountant. Despite her age and the slight greying of her hair, Mitch found her quite attractive. Her cool demeanor only added to her allure. The ones that were harder to get were often the more desirable.

Mitch had been unwillingly off-the-market since his debacle with Trisha. He could, of course, snatch Anna out from under Martin with only the minimal effort of some playful banter, but down that road was far more trouble than it was worth. The whole rape accusation still hung over Mitch like a dark cloud and even if his potential girlfriends were ignorant of it, he wasn’t and he lived in the fear that they’d learn and things would go south again.

None of that however changed Mitch’s horn-dog nature. He’d been rather proud about being able to keep up with Michael’s rather prodigious sexual success and Mitch did it without the benefit of Daeva charm and good looks. But now, this dry spell had put him well behind, even with Michael cooling his habits for the sake of Sarah and Rebecca.

So Diane was one among many beautiful women that Mitch had been eyeballing throughout the night. Many of them were on the arm of another man and more than a few were attached to other women. But Mitch enjoyed his window shopping, reluctant for the time being to make a move.

A commotion caught Mitch’s eye across the street. It was at another nightclub, one of their competitors, where the bouncers were somewhat forcibly removing a visibly drunk and rather belligerent woman from the premises. Not an unusual site by any means, although true to his pattern, Mitch noted the woman was reasonably attractive. What caught his attention more than her beauty however were the four guys in a nearby alley who were watching her as well.

“Lopez,” Mitch turned to the Los Angeles gang member who was minding the front door with him, “I’m going to step off for a minute. If you need help, summon someone from inside.”

Lopez nodded and Mitch started dodging traffic to get across the street. By the time he made it across, the woman was gone as were the men. That was a red flag. She was going to be mugged, abducted, raped, or something nefarious. He was certain of that.

He looked about and tried to listen, and sure enough, he could hear the sounds of struggle from a nearby alley, just barely audible above the din of the traffic. He willed an incantation to life, trying to accelerate time around him so he could faster, more able to handle the four-on-one odds he was about to face. But the spell failed. Unbelief was too strong here for even the simplest of magic. He gritted his teeth and dashed towards the sound anyway.

The woman was on the ground behind a dumpster, far enough out of sight from the main street that passers-by would not notice anything amiss. Three of the four men were standing watch, while the fourth was beating the woman senseless. Mitch couldn’t tell from his initial observations what manner of crime they were up to, but he knew he had to stop it.

He considered his gun, but held off on drawing it. No sense escalating this to lethal force unless necessary. He stood at the end of the alleyway and rather than wait for the thugs to warn him off, he simply charged in.

The three guards were not expecting so immediate an attack, so Mitch took them by surprise. He jumped part way through his rush and slammed both feet into the chest of the middle guard, sending him flying across his partner behind him. Mitch was not a trained martial artist, so he did not land on his feet from that kick, but flopped onto the pavement and then scrambled to make his feet again.

That gave his foes the initiative back. The remaining two guards rushed him as he tried to stand up, raining blow after blow down on Mitch. He staggered back, trying to defend himself and trying to draw his foes back out into the street where they could be seen. Mitch didn’t get as far as he’d hoped, but someone saw what was happening because he sensed another presence behind him.

The loud cry of chi shout pierced his ears and the foe on his right suddenly ceased to be there. In his place was a diminutive young woman with pink punk-rock hair. She let out another shout and lashed out with her leg. There was the crack of breaking bone and suddenly Mitch’s leftmost opponent was no longer there.

Whoever this was, she was tough as nails. The four thugs abandoned their efforts and ran down the alley away from them.

“You okay?” said the woman.

“I’ll live. Had worse.” said Mitch. Satisfied with his answer, the woman moved over to the mugging victim. The brutes had beaten the woman unconscious. Mitch’s pink-haired rescuer pulled out her cell phone and dialled 911.

“That was very brave of you.” said the young woman. “Taking on four at once.”

“My strategy was off.” said Mitch, trying to work out the pain in his bruised and battered body. It didn’t seem anything was too badly damaged, certainly not compared to some of the injuries he’d endured over the years. “I was hoping they’d run after the first few blows. Guess I misjudged them.” Mitch leaned over the beaten woman. “How is she?”

“I can’t tell. Best for the paramedics to check on her. I’ll wait until they get here.”

“They shouldn’t be long.”

“Probably good for them to check you out.”

“I’ll be fine.” said Mitch confidently. “You’re a bit of a surprise.”

“Never underestimate what short people can do.” she joked. “I’m a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Even competed a few times in regional tourneys. You’d never guess from looking at me.”

“No, no one would.” Mitch was about to share a bit about Sammy, about how tough she was despite her short stature, but the ambulance pulled up to the end of the alley and Mitch moved to motion the paramedics to them.

With them and the police now on the scene, Mitch made a quick and quiet exit back to Club CRASS. Rather than resume his post out front, he went inside, got a drink, and headed up to Michael’s office. Diane was just leaving after her interview.

“You look a little worse for wear.” said Michael when Mitch walked into the office.

Mitch slumped down into the sofa. “I tussled with some muggers outside.”

“Shouldn’t be any match for you.”

“Normally, no. But my magic failed me. If the subtle spells I was trying to cast fail, that means someone was watching me directly.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean something ominous.” said Michael grimly.

Mitch shrugged. “It could be anything. Some hottie may have just spotted me out of the corner of her eye and figured I was worth a looking over. That’s all it really takes to impose an extra dose of unbelief on a mage.”

“Phenomenal cosmic power...” Michael joked, beginning the quote from the Disney movie Aladdin.

“Yeah, but I can only cast my best spells when no one is looking.” grumbled Mitch. “No one ordinary anyway. You vampires don’t count.”

“We are magic...I guess. No one really knows.”

“It’s as good an explanation as anything. Fits the facts. Anyway, how are the interviews going?”

“Diane checked out nicely for our bookkeeper. I hired her.”

“You going to score her later? She’s nice looking for her age.”

“Maybe.” said Michael. “There are dangers in doing that between employers and employees.”

“As if that would stop you.”

“More dealing with the wrath of Sarah is what would stop me.”

“What’s next? We’re still over an hour from your meeting.”

“One more interview. For head bouncer. Things ran long with Diane so our next candidate should be here by now. What would keep someone from a late night interview?”

The elevator dinged open and the pink haired woman from across the street walked in. Mitch was surprised. “Well, hello again.” he said.

“Keri Cervantes?” Michael queried.

The woman nodded. “It seems you’ve met my associate, Mr. Mitchell.” Michael continued.

“I suppose you could call it that.” Keri half-joked.

“She’s the one that pulled my ass out of the fire with those muggers.”

“Really?” said Michael. He picked up her resume from the desk and flipped through it. “I take my friends’ recommendations very seriously, Miss Cervantes. When you help them, you help me.”

“You choose your friends well, Mr. Allens. It’s not everyone who’d chase down four muggers heedless of the danger to himself to rescue a stranger.”

“Is that the kind of person you are?”

“I try.”

“Fine. You’re hired. That’s easy. Go get yourself a drink downstairs and I’ll get the paperwork together.”

“Thanks.” Keri shrugged, clearly not expecting this go quite that smoothly.

“Mind some company?” said Mitch, coming to his feet. Somewhat gingerly, given his injuries.

“Sure.” The two boarded the elevator together and headed downstairs.

“Thanks for the endorsement.” Keri said to him.

“Hey, you’re the one who came in and kicked a bunch of ass.”

“You looked like you needed help. I saw you cross the street. Something about it said there was trouble about. I get an instinct for these things.”

“So you were the one watching me.” Mitch grumbled in his head. “Well, that’ll serve you well in this job.” he said aloud.

“You work here too?”

“When Michael needs me to. We just opened last night and staff is still short.”

“Well, my inclusion doesn’t help that much.” She cracked a smile. “Get it? You're still short.” She waved her hand at forehead height to demonstrate she was making a pun about her height.

Mitch laughed. “You said it. Not me.”

“If you can’t laugh at yourself...”

It was about then that it hit him. “Jesus, Mitch, you’re losing your touch. This chick is into you.” The elevator doors opened and the two headed out into the club.

Mitch hit the bar and ordered drinks for both of them. “Welcome aboard.”

“So do I call you Mr. Mitchell or do you have a more familiar name?”

“Friends call me Mitch.”

“Does that make me a friend?”

“You could be more than that if you want.”

“Aren’t we forward?”

“You just told me you’ve been watching me most of the night. What am I supposed to think?”

“I’d say your strategy with me is a lot sharper than it was with those creeps outside. I like bold men, particularly when that boldness is not just in words, but in actions.”

Mitch took a swig of his drink. “Well, let’s try this on then. You, me, dinner sometime?"

Keri smiled. "I think we can manage that."

The barkeep walked over to them. “Boss is ready for you. Paperwork and all.” he said to Keri.

“So, as I understand it, the club here is closed on Mondays.” Keri stood up to go back upstairs. “That means I’m off work tomorrow. Meet me here at 6?”

“Sure.”

---

At around 11:30pm, Mitch made his way back upstairs. Some of the other Invaders had already arrived for Michael’s meeting and were mingling downstairs in the club. But Mitch was eager to talk to Michael before the business of the night really began.

“I wanted to catch your ear before the rest of the crew got here.” Said Mitch as he emerged from the elevator.

“You want to ask me not to pursue Ms. Cervantes.” Said Michael, not looking up from his desk.

“Is that a problem?”

Michael looked up from his affairs and gave Mitch a hard look. “You’re oddly stand-offish about this. When I have ever stolen someone out from under you?”

Mitch shrugged. “Never, but then you’ve never had to. I’ve spent the last half-dozen years in your shadow, scooping up your leftovers.” Mitch was surprised at how suddenly angry he felt and how angry he sounded.

Michael took it in stride. “It’s funny how life ebbs and flows. When I met you, all those years ago, and I saw how popular you were with the ladies, I envied you. I wanted to be you. Deborah’s embrace gave me that chance and I done my best not to squander that gift. Now the tide has turned and it is jealousy I hear on your voice.” Michael paused. “You never seemed to mind my ‘leftovers’ before. Why would now be different?”

Mitch shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m being stupid, but here she was, in this room, with the two of us, and she could barely take her eyes off me. With you, the Daeva Adonis in front of her.”

“You make it sound like it was a bad thing. She’s into you. That’s good.”

“It doesn’t seem real.”

“This isn’t about me.” Said Michael, coming around his desk to stand in front of Mitch. “This is about that damned rape accusation. You’re starting to sound like Sarah, all full of second-guessing and self-doubt. This isn’t you.”

“Maybe it should be.” Said Mitch. “Amy was into me and it was all to frame me so Walsh could take me out of the picture and hurt you. Anna was into me, but it was all to get Martin to stop being such a dipshit. Trisha was into me, until she learned…” Mitch shook his head again in frustration. “I’m either a tool or terrifying.”

“Or you’re a good looking guy with a lot of great qualities like bravery, loyalty, tenacity. Keri’s chosen you. Stop questioning that.”

Mitch shrugged again, unconvinced. “I just feel like the stakes are changing. Boar put a rock on Natasha’s finger. You are functionally ‘settled down’ with Rebecca and Sarah. That leaves me high and dry out here by myself.”

Michael looked at Mitch incredulously and then began to laugh. “Is that really what this is about?”

“I’m 27 years old, Michael. Maybe it is time to put away the whole new-girl-every-week bit.”

“Aren’t we jumping the gun? You haven’t even had your first date with Keri yet.”

“Maybe, but it also might help to go in knowing what I really want.”

Michael smiled. “Dude, you’re one of my best friends. Whatever you feel you need to do, I’m here for you. If you want to find out with Keri or anyone is ‘the one,’ go for it. You have my backing.”

The elevator dinged and the first batch of their friends and allies embarked into the office: Boar, Solomon, Julia, and Rebecca. A few minutes after that, they were joined by Damian Drake, Paul, and Kathleen.

“Well, Mr. Drake, it’s been a while. How are things in Washington?”

Well, it did take me longer than I anticipated to secure some assistance from the secret parts of our government that the high-and-mighty pretend don’t exist, but I was successful in the end. I am glad that my delays did not hinder your progress none.” Damian looked around. “This is a fine establishment here.”

“Thanks.”

The elevator dinged again and the last of their company emerged: Sarah.

“You’re wearing the same dress as last night.” Said Rebecca off-handedly. A devilish grin crossed her face.

It took Michael a minute to realize why Rebecca would make so obvious an observation. She had not returned to their haven after the club closed the night before; She had spent the day in someone else’s company.

“Well, we’re all here. The primary reason I’ve called this meeting is because of a new threat that Julia and Solomon have uncovered. Julia, why don’t you explain?”

“Well, most of you know I was a hunter in my mortal life. I still maintain some tenuous grasp of their world and access to their methods of communications. After Mitch learned that the Ashwood Abbey and the Malleus Malificarum have ties to our various enemies, I began scanning the Internet message boards for hunter activity germane to Philadelphia and to us. A few days ago I got a hit. Looks like the Malleus have brought in a heavy hitter from Boston. A guy by the name of David Hemmingway.”

“One of their top vampire hunters.” Added Michael. He rubbed his hand together nervously before speaking again. “What makes this guy a serious threat is not only is he a potent asset to a powerful hunter conspiracy, but he’s also someone I knew in my mortal life. He is targeting me specifically.”

“Well,” Rebecca spoke up. “It’s some consolation, Michael, that you are not the person you once were. I was a part of your mortal life as well and I would never have guessed the suave libertine nightclub owner before me was the person I used to know back then.”

“Hemmingway is one problem.” Said Mitch. “But he implies a larger issue. There’s something in the air. People are getting nervous. Jittery. And it’s having a metaphysical effect. The Consilium is concerned that the Gauntlet is weakening.”

“Gauntlet?” asked Solomon.

“The barrier between this material world and the spiritual realms that interact with it.” Interjected Sarah. “The reason we don’t see elemental spirits or ghosts or demons or fae or things like them everyday is because of the Gauntlet. It keeps them out.”

“That explains what happened at St. Agnes.” Said Boar. He then went on to explain about the fire elemental that emerged when his pack drove out the Abbey from their club house.

“And the mad shooter at Temple the other day.” Added Mitch. “We’re starting to have ‘incidents’ like these all over the city. It’s going to snowball.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s end-of-the-world hysteria. People have convinced themselves that something is going to happen on New Years Eve. Party like it’s 1999 because it’s all gonna end.” Said Mitch. “The more people who believe that, the weaker Unbelief becomes and the weaker Unbelief becomes, the weaker the Gauntlet. Spirits start slipping through. Unexplained events go up. People start to believe more of this end-times garbage and the Gauntlets gets even further weakened. Snowball effect.”

“The more incidents, the more nervous the hunters get.”

“All part of it.” Said Mitch. “Bad news for us.”

“Maybe that’s the point.” Said Paul. “If the supernatural world spills over into the real world and chaos erupts, would that give Walsh his excuse to or at least cover for moving against Monroe?”

“It might be worse than that.” Added Mitch. “The Dark Brotherhood’s patron, whatever spirit it is, might be able to cross over into our world.”

“Maybe they’re the same thing.” Said Kathleen.

“Explain.” Said Michael.

“We’ve long suspect Walsh and the Brotherhood are in cahoots together. What if the demon has offered something to Walsh in exchange for the vampire’s help in getting into this world? What if that gift is what he needs to destroy Monroe?”

“Seems an awfully complicated plan. Monroe’s not that invulnerable.” Damian scoffed.

“Maybe.” Said Boar. “Maybe we’re wrong in the details, but right in the generalities. All the old tales of demons in folklore had them making bargains. I’ll give you this if you do that. Faust and all the others fit that old pattern. This sounds like it does too.”

“What can we do about it?” said Sarah.

“Kill the Brotherhood.” Said Solomon. “The demon’s connection to this world is through them, not Walsh.”

Michael nodded. “Then they’re our next target.”

“Where do we find them?” asked Rebecca.

Michael looked at Mitch. Mitch shook his head. “The Consilium is not happy with me right now. I’ve involved two of their junior mages too much in our affairs and all three of us are under censure. We’ll find no help from them.”

“Yes, we will.” contradicted Michael confidently. “We’ve just got to figure out how to persuade them.”

Next Chapter

Act Three Chapter Two - And We Danced

Martin walked over to Anna and dropped down into the seat next to her. He tossed the student newspaper onto the table in front of her. “Did you see?”

Anna smiled and laughed. “It was overdue.”

Martin picked the paper back up and began to read. “Notorious student bully Henry Lee Tucker was found unconscious outside Hardwick Hall on Tuesday. Police investigators believe him to have been assaulted. His two bodyguards, a large part of his infamy on Temple’s campus, were nowhere to be found.” He tossed the paper back down. “I wonder if they got tired of his shit.”

“Rich punk kid from Allentown.” Anna began, recounting Tucker’s story. “One almost too stupid to breathe without outside aid, can only get into one college in the whole damn state. His parents, thoroughly convinced that North Philly is only one step removed from hell itself, hire two thugs to accompany him everywhere he goes on campus. Said student turns around and uses his two bodyguards to bully and intimidate everyone he can see.”

“You get the feeling our student reporter here has crossed paths with him.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of obvious. Weren’t many of us who crossed paths with that asshole who didn’t bear a grudge.” A hint of anger crept into Anna’s voice. Tucker had been indiscriminant in his behavior, bullying and intimidating men and women alike. “I suppose the question of the hour is who’d the lucky bastard who managed to take him out?”

“It doesn’t say he was shot, so I’d rule out Mitch.”

“I don’t think Mitch has been around here enough to cross paths with him.” Anna smiled. “Did you do it?”

“You’re the one who can make spirits of land and sky do your bidding. At best, I can flip a coin 100 times and have it come up heads each time. If we’re talking about the two of us, I’d more wonder if you had anything to do with it.” He returned Anna’s smile.

Thaddeus Zao had been, as expected, furious that his novice mages had involved themselves so directly into vampire affairs. Mitch’s reaction to the Hierarch’s fury amounted to little more than “fuck off,” but Martin and Anna’s fates were more intertwined with the Consilium. They were now under censure from the Hierarch, unable to continue their official duties or their magical studies until further notice.

With the loss of support from their mentors, Martin and Anna were largely adrift. The difficulty of that was compounded by their relationship troubles. Both of them were still largely at odds with one another over Martin’s face-changing stunt; To call them “together” would have been a stretch.

With their enemies in the Brotherhood and the vampire community lying low for the time being, the two of them had only each other to occupy their time and energy. That was awkward given all that had taken place.

Martin finally got fed up with it all. Using his magical gifts, he managed to score a tidy sum from the Pennsylvania Lottery in January, enough money to buy a nice Spring Break vacation to Cancun. Seven days on a beach in the tropics might remedy their relationship woes.

Sun, sand, minimal clothing, and separation from Philadelphia worked their magic on the two novice mages and the spark between them rekindled. They had just returned to Philadelphia earlier that week to the news of this bully and his fate.

“Hey, guys!” Mitch jumped over the back of the sofa and landed gracefully next to Martin. “Thought I might find you here. How was Cancun?”

“Warm. Beautiful. Blue sky. Blue water. Seven days alone with the prettiest girl in the world.” Mused Martin.

“Well, that answers my next question. Guess things are back on between the two of you.”

“We needed the time away to work our shit out.” Anna admitted. “Neither of us wanted to leave the other, but we didn’t know how to hold each other accountable for the stupid things we did. A few days away from Zao, the Brotherhood, and to be blunt, you, and we got ourselves back on track.”

“Good.” Mitch ignored the implication that he held some responsibility for their troubles. Anna’s attraction to him was not his fault.

“Now it’s your turn.” Said Martin gleefully. “Surely, there’s someone on this campus that’ll be interested in a bit of Mitch.”

“Besides me.” Anna added flippantly.

“Guys…” Mitch began, but Martin cut him off.

“No, we have a new mission. If we’re to be ostracized from mage society, and we’ve got our stuff worked out, then we need something else to occupy our energy.”

“Being college students isn’t enough?”

“As if I’m really going to be an accountant someday…” Martin rolled his eyes. “Come on. I’m hungry. Let’s go hit Burger King and discuss this.”

The three of them headed out of the student center and headed down the block towards the restaurant. Mitch was neither particularly hungry nor particularly interested in having his lack of a love life discussed. He had come, however, to invite the two of them to the opening of Club CRASS on Saturday.

“Hey, guys, I tracked you two down to give you these.” He held out the two VIP passes for the club’s grand opening.

“That your vampire friend’s new club?” asked Anna.

“Opens tomorrow night. Look at it as a date.”

“Thanks. Do you have a date to this party?” asked Martin.

“No, but it’s South Street. Do you really think I won’t be able to find a hook-up?”

“Good point.”

The loud echoing bang of a firearm going off ripped through the air. Mitch flinched and reached for his weapon. All around them, the Temple students that had been milling about scattered in panic. “What the hell? That was a gunshot.”

About one hundred yards away, they could see a large burly individual with a drawn handgun marching slowly and methodically towards them. He fired again, dropping a nearby student. Mitch grabbed the two of them and yanked them with him behind a nearby car. Not much cover, but they might escape notice.

“Something’s not right about him.” Declared Anna. “I think he’s possessed.”

“As in demon?” asked Mitch, drawing his gun.

“Spirit of some kind. Spirits of murder, hunger, and violence sometimes slip between their world and ours. Usually it’s the werewolves that keep them at bay or at least that’s the job they claim to do.”

“This one slipped past them.” Said Martin.

“Or was sent.” Said Mitch grimly. The gunman was nearly on top of them. “Please tell me he can be shot.”

“Maybe.”

“Great. When I pop up, run!” With that, Mitch jumped up and opened fire himself. Martin and Anna dashed across the street at that very moment.

At such close range, Mitch was not going to miss and the double-tap from his .45 struck home. The large man grunted as if hit by nothing more dangerous or painful than a baseball. He then turned his weapon on Mitch.

“Shit!” Mitch dove for the pavement as the gunman fired. The round from the man’s big Desert Eagle whizzed over his head.

Anna stood up and muttered an incantation. The gunman lurched as if grabbed by some supernatural force. Anna gritted her teeth and made a yanking motion with her right hand. Mitch looked up and saw the spirit tear away from the man’s body, pulled free by the power of Anna’s spell.

The man collapsed onto the pavement, the lethal wound Mitch had inflicted now having its effect. Anna held the spirit aloft for a second before slamming her hands together. The spirit let out an unearthly scream and then vanished.

“Nice work.” Complemented Mitch, holstering his pistol.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure I could do that or not. We got lucky.” She gasped. The spell had been taxing and she was clearly winded by the effort. She shook off her fatigue and ran over to the girl that had been shot by the gunman earlier.

“You’ve got one hell of a girlfriend, Martin.” Said Mitch, kicking the dead man’s gun away.

“Yeah.” He looked down at the gunman. “Holy shit, that’s one of Tucker’s bodyguards.”

“Tucker?”

Martin explained quickly about Tucker, his reputation, and the report in the news about him. By the time he finished, the plaza was swarming with cops and emergency personnel. Paramedics tended to the wounded girl and the police questioned Mitch about the shooting. Anna wandered back over to Martin.

“Something’s up.” She said, a troubled look on her face.

“Kind of obvious when a murder spirit possesses a thug and sends him on a shooting rampage across Temple’s campus. Thankfully only one person got hurt.”

“I shouldn’t have been able to banish that spirit. A spirit that’s strong enough to cross into this world and take possession of a human, even a brainless thug like that guy, shouldn’t have been weak enough for me to handle. This doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe he was willing.” Martin offered. “After all, I’m sure Tucker wasn’t the nicest of employers.”

“I still can’t always tell when you’re being serious or cracking jokes.” Replied Anna, her voice getting a hint of annoyance.

“Fine. It was a joke, but you have to admit it might be the truth. Maybe the spirit gave the guy an offer and he accepted.”

“Still doesn’t explain how he got here in the first place.” Anna frowned. “We need to talk to Zao.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun…”

---

When dusk came, Michael was usually one of the first to rise. That was not the case tonight. Sarah crawled out from under him, pulled a sheet around herself and wandered out to the hotel lobby to look out into the night sky. She took in the silence for a long moment, enjoying it and savoring it, before she heard the rustle of someone else awakening and coming out into the hallway.

It was Rebecca. Unlike Sarah, she made no accommodation for modesty. She walked up beside Sarah and looked out the front door.

“A largely empty parking lot.”

“It depends on what you want to see.” said Sarah insightfully. “Urban ruin or a tranquil night.”

“Funny you should bring that up.” said Rebecca. “Taking him off by yourself kind of defeats the purpose of an orgy.”

“That was the point.”

“Sarah, I care about you. I love you. Like Michael, I’ve even come to lust after you,  but one thing I have yet to accomplish is understand you. You ask and he obliges without hesitation. And yet you still believe he will run away to whoever opens their arms to him.”

“It’s hard enough sharing Michael with you and I know your intentions are good. You’ve let me in your head. I’ve read your thoughts. Your feelings. I can trust you, but not them. His sire? His old harem girls? No. I can’t go there anymore.”

“What more proof do you need that he will never abandon you?”

“It’s not about that.” said Sarah, pulling the sheet around her more tightly, as if she were cold, an impossibility for kindred. “I think you know I am a childe of Ernie. He embraced me in a psych ward because he couldn’t resist the idea of a crazy 12 year old. But I wasn’t really insane and it didn’t take him long to figure that out. So he tried to make me so, but I was a strong kid and he eventually got frustrated with me and abandoned me. I was 15 when he finally left me. I did three things when I found my freedom. I enthralled my mother and my surviving sister, I dove into my reading and worked to educate myself, and I made a deal with Prince Lazarus to hunt the boardwalk in Virginia Beach. I played the part, as Michael once called it, of a ‘pedophile wet dream.’ Hey, mister, I’m lost. Can you come help me?” She did the last sentences in a sing-song childish voice for emphasis.

“I worked out my rage at all that had happened to me on the predators who stalked those streets, looking for the innocent. And then I found the innocent myself.

“His name was Jack. He was Mormon on his missionary excursion. White shirt, black tie, the whole bit. Decent guy and he genuinely wanted to help me. Cute, kind, and I was still a 15 year old in my head, regardless of what my body looked like. I developed a raging crush on him almost immediately.

“But there was a problem. I may have been the Prince’s secret weapon against sexual predators on his turf, but I was also a pagan and that put me under the jurisdiction of Primogen Michelle La Croix, the vainglorious leader of the Servants of Typhon coterie. She hated me. Feared my connection to Ernie and my special privileges under the Prince, so she went out of her way to bully and punish me as much as she could. They found Jack floating in the Bay one night, drained of blood and an Egyptian hieroglyphic branded into his forehead. Freaked the Mormon community out something fierce. It was the 80s and it was the height of the whole Satanic hysteria. But I knew what it really was and what it really meant. Michelle was determined to make sure I was alone, and if it meant robbing me of anyone I might take into my heart or my bed, then so be it.

“And that became the pattern. I’d get to liking someone and Michelle would find a way to snatch them out from under me. Some she killed. Others she just seduced or made her own slave. And then came Luke.

“Luke was this awkward nerdy Virginia Tech student who was trying to pledge to a fraternity that wanted nothing to do with him. They sent him on some fools errand during a trip to Virginia Beach and he stumbled onto me. He was sincere. He was honest. By this time, I had developed enough skill to read minds, so I knew he wanted to help me. I also knew he wanted to fuck the daylights out of me.

“There’s a difference between the predatory desire of a pedophile and the genuine heartfelt passion of a person in love. When you can read minds, you can tell the difference. In much the same way I can sense your sincerity towards Michael, I could sense Luke’s toward me. I’d had plenty of crushes on men before, but Luke was the first one who’d ever felt anything real for me. That was intoxicating. He wanted me. He desired me. He was attracted to me. I gave my virginity to him and his to me. Oh, I know I’d been groped and fondled, even penetrated by the predators I hunted, but Luke is the one I count as my first. I loved him and he loved me. I was determined to keep Michelle from hurting him, so I enthralled him. I made him my slave, thinking that by laying such a claim on him, I could keep him safe.

“Well, she didn’t try to seduce him. Instead, Michelle just had her thugs beat him nearly to death. He was in a coma for six weeks and when he woke up, all he could do was drool on himself. Permanent brain damage. Not even feeding him my blood could heal him. The young man that I loved and who loved me back was gone. At that point, I gave up trying. Years passed. And then on Christmas in 1992, I laid eyes on Michael for the first time and it started all over again. In some ways, I didn’t want to fall for him, but one look at his face and I couldn’t help it. After I read his mind in an unguarded moment and I learned what manner of person he was, I wanted him even more.

“Maybe I’m selfish; I’ll admit to that. But I want him for me and for me alone and I can’t shake this fear that a new Michelle will come along and snatch him away.”

“Michelle is dead. She cannot no longer harm you.”

“Yes. But it’s really not her that I fear. It’s what she represents to me.” Sarah paused. “Think about this from my perspective. Nearly everyone I’ve ever loved is gone. My coven, my mother, my father, both my sisters, Jack, Luke, all dead. You and Michael are all I have left. Can you understand why I’m so afraid?”

“I can.” said Rebecca sympathetically. “But you let your fear blind you to the truth. You can read minds and yet you cannot see that Michael loves you beyond words. He would never give you up. He would never forsake you. He would die for you if it came to that. That’s who he is. That’s largely why I fell for him too. Becoming kindred did not change that part of him, that noble savage that he is. Not one bit. He may lust after all the pleasures of the flesh, but when he puts his heart out there for someone, he means it.” Rebecca paused. “I envy you that.”

“This trinity thing we’re trying to do isn’t easy.” admitted Sarah.

“And we’ve all admitted that numerous times. You ask me to look at things your way. Do the same for me. Michael still has trouble discerning between the real me and the Rebecca of his fantasies and projections. You keep thinking yourself the odd man out in our trio, but it’s really me. I love him more than he loves me. And you and I? Well, we’re still a work in progress. The truth is, if I walked away, you and Michael would continue without even a hiccup. If you walked away, I would not be able to put him back together again. I wish I could make you see that. I’m the one that loses the most if this falls apart. Not you. You have him. You will always have him.”

---

Solomon took a sip of his bourbon as he watched down the street. “This is pointless.” He grumbled.

The White Rose Café, a York city stalwart, was not terribly busy for a Friday night. Its outdoor patio, newly reopened with the coming of spring, served as a nice vantage point from which to watch the nearby storefront that Ernie used for his “church.” Julia was tapping away on her laptop, occasionally sipping a latte.

“I’m afraid you’re right. Either Ernie figured out we found his nest or he’s seen us watching or…”

“…he’s a Great Elder and has an instinct about these things. We know he’s still here. We know his little cult is still operating out of that building over there. But we haven’t seen a single sign of him since we started watching full-time two weeks ago. Nor did we see him on any of the spot checks we ran over the past two and a half months. You’re right. He’s onto us.”

Solomon finished his drink. “I should have guessed. Ernie has displayed two abilities that make him nearly impossible to shadow. He can vanish from sight and he can read minds. I remember being told about him decades ago that you don’t find him. If you want to talk to him, he finds out somehow and then he finds you.”

“Maybe that’s what we need to do.” Julia suggested. “Rather than be all stealthy about it, why don’t we be up front with him?”

“Risky, but intriguing.” Commented Solomon. “He’d know we work for Michael, so he might not contact us. But then again, he’s completely nuts, so he might show up just because he can. Impossible to predict the movements of a madman.”

“Therein lies our problem. We’ve been trying to predict his movements like he’s normal all along. Let’s do something unexpected. Out of the ordinary. That might get his attention.”

Solomon nodded. “Good idea. Let’s do it.”

“Although it may have to wait…”

“What is it?”

“I downloaded my emails before we came over here. I’ve been sifting through them as we’ve been watching the church. I got a hit from one of the secret Usenet groups that hunters use to communicate with one another. Someone’s looking for Michael.”

“I didn’t realize you still did that.”

“It’s the reason Michael embraced me, remember? I used to be a hunter and I know their strategies and tools. With the Malleus and the Abbey breathing down our necks after these past few months, I figured I’d renew some of my old habits. Good thing too.” She turned the laptop around to show Solomon.

“I’m no expert on modern computers. What does it mean?”

“Not much at this point. I need to see the original Usenet post. I wonder if there’s an internet café around or someplace else I can hook up.”

Solomon shrugged. “York isn’t that cosmopolitan. A library might work, but they’re all closed. Best head back to my place and try there. I doubt we’re going to miss much here anyway.”

They paid their bill and headed out to the bike. Jacobus was a good 15 minutes south of York itself, but the ride went smoothly. Once back at Solomon’s haven, Julia plugged in and began her search.

“Found it.” She said after only a few short minutes. “Yeah, it’s as I feared.”

Solomon moved up behind her. “What is it?”

“A call from a hunter looking for Michael. It’s zeroed in on Philadelphia. These sorts of posts are dangerous. It was one not all that unlike this that brought me and all the other hunters to Tidewater.”

“The Reign of Terror?”

“Yeah. Bad news. Even has a photo attachment. Let me download this.” Her hands moved across the keyboard quickly. After a few seconds, the picture came up.

“That was taken at the Art Museum the night we were welcomed to the city.” He growled. “So it’s another kindred again, trying to use the hunters to bring us down.”

“Well, that’s the origin of the photo. It could be passed on second-hand. The origin of the post is from a Roman Catholic church email address. This guy’s Malleus.”

“You got a name?”

“David Hemmingway.” Said Julia. “Wait a minute, I’ve heard of this guy. Something of a wunderkind in hunter circles. Heavy duty muscle for the MM. Works out of Boston, I believe.” She continued to glance through the Usenet post. “This guy knows a lot about Michael. His birth city, his likely date of embrace…How would he know these things?”

“Two possibilities. Neither very comforting. One, we have a traitor. Someone who knows Michael very intimately and can share that information with this hunter. Two, this guy Hemmingway knows Michael personally.”

“Either way, we need to get back to Philly.”

---

Paul Miller sat up in bed and groaned. The room was dark and empty, but he didn’t need that to tell him what he knew by instinct. Another day had passed and night had come again.

The other half of his bed was empty, which was no surprise. Three months together had taught Paul that Kathleen, his lover, was an early riser, often popping away just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. He, on the other hand, was notorious as a late riser, never quite able to shake the daysleep until well after the sun had vanished from the sky.

Even now, awake at last, he found himself sluggish, as if sleep still held him firm in its grasp. He stood up and groaned again, trying to shake the lethargy from his limbs. He walked over to the large walk-in closet and opened the door.

Kathleen gave a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d been getting dressed within and was surprised by Paul opening the door.

“Jesus, Kathleen, it’s not like you didn’t know I was here.” He grumbled. He turned to his half of the closet, looking for something appropriate to wear to the big debut at Club CRASS tonight. He ran through several shirts before pausing and then turning back to Kathleen.

“Really?” he said incredulously.

Kathleen had dolled up like a “sexy schoolgirl.” A white half-shirt baring her belly. A short plaid skirt baring her legs. Her hair done up in pigtails. In his sleepy sluggishness, Paul’s brain had failed to register any of this when he first walked into the closet. Now, he could barely believe what he was seeing.

“You like?” she asked.

“It’s different.” Paul admitted noncommittally. He snapped his fingers in front of her face, in much the same manner a hypnotist might do to awaken a client.

“What are you doing?”

“Earth to Kathleen. Is that really you?” Paul’s tone was hard, with a hint of anger.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re doing this for him. For Michael. Did Ernie tell you to?”

“What?”

Paul let out his breath in frustration. “Never mind.” He said in resignation.

The cursed blood of Kathleen’s sire Ernie was manifesting more and more as time went on. Kathleen had begun to show the beginnings of multiple personalities. So far, thankfully, she only had two selves. (As opposed to her sire who seemed to manifest at least a dozen and also seemed to make up new ones almost on whimsy.)

Normal Kathleen was the shy quiet bookish and brilliant young woman that had once been one of the city’s top medical examiners. The same woman that Ernie had taken and tried to twist into a puppet to use against Michael. This Kathleen feared Ernie, knowing his schemes and plans for her. This is the Kathleen that Paul loved and he knew that she loved him.

But sexy Kathleen was another story entirely. This version of her was marked by the same obsession for Michael Allens that Ernie possessed. Ironically, and probably intentionally, this Kathleen seemed completely unaware of Ernie’s existence. That was the clue Paul used to determine which one of her he was dealing with in any given moment.

As much as Paul loved the normal Kathleen, he found sexy Kathleen almost irresistible. With her shyness and inhibitions gone, sexy Kathleen was like all his fantasies come to life. One problem however was that singular obsession with Michael. Even though Paul and Kathleen were a couple and quite sexually active with one another, when Kathleen was this version of herself, she was also her most inhibited with Paul. She acted quite the slut, but it was all for Michael and none of it for Paul.

Of course, there was also a third version of her as well, and that was Ernie himself. Paul was never quite certain when sexy Kathleen made an appearance if that was her own twisted psyche at work or if the mad elder had taken possession of her body again. Since their relationship began, Ernie had not been as inclined to try this little stunt, but the possibility remained that he’d resume his old habits at any moment.

Paul was both envious and jealous of Michael. Jealous, of course, because of sexy Kathleen’s obsession with him. Envious because Michael was also in relationship with someone struggling with Ernie’s legacy and he had the easier deal. Sarah’s schizophrenia could be frustrating, but it didn’t seem to manifest as often or as severely as Kathleen’s multiple personalities. Michael, to his credit, had kept his hands off Kathleen and Paul had no reason to suspect that Kathleen’s attentions would get her anywhere.

All of it together made for a very difficult relationship. Paul had spent a lot of time at the library reading about mental illness and learning about being in a relationship with someone who’s not quite all-together. Patience and understanding were the persistent pieces of advice he kept receiving and he was trying. But it was not easy. Not ever.

Paul reached out, almost by reflex, and took hold of Kathleen by the waist. Her skin was soft and warm, filled with the flush of artificial life that young kindred gave themselves by reflex at each rising. His pajama pants began to tent outward as he grew hard. God, how he wanted to take her like this.

But she pushed him away. “Not for you.” She said scoldingly and Paul’s anger flashed within him as all his fears were realized. It was, not surprisingly, Sexy Kathleen, frigid as ever toward him. He always held out hope that maybe, just maybe, the woman he loved might play the slut for him, but once more his hopes were dashed.

She moved past him back out into the bedroom and Paul gave a moment’s thought to just tackling her and forcing himself onto her. As tempting as it was to take what he desired by force, he also knew that would hardly help her fragile mental state.

It was going to be one of those nights.

---

Michael took the stage, taking his place behind the keyboard. Rebecca moved to her microphone.

“Hello everyone!” She cried out to the excited crowd. “Welcome to Club CRASS. Are you having a good time?” The crowd responded with affirmative shouts and applause. “Good to hear. We’re going to give you a treat tonight. Live music. Great food. Dancing. And lots of drinks at discount prices.” Another roar of applause. “We’re gonna start the music off with a Philadelphia classic. Sing along with you know this one.”

Michael came in on keyboards immediately, along with Erin with her guitar, and the crowd instantly recognized the song. Rebecca began to sing.

She was a be-bop baby on a hard day's night
She was hangin' on Johnny, he was holdin' on tight…

For all the work he’d put into preparing for this night, Michael was as nervous as he’d ever been. But as his hands ran across the keyboard to play the Hooters’ song, the nerves fell away and it was like old times again, playing with Krushed Profit in Blacksburg.

Song after song, all covers of popular 80’s and current bands, came out of their instruments and voices. Their hard work was paying off. The crowd loved it. They played an hour long set, playing Tears for Fears, Flock of Seagulls, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and a whole host of others, ending with the Depeche Mode song they’d practiced earlier in the week.

Michael came off the stage high on life. The DJ took over, spinning some Eurodance tunes to keep the energy of the place going. This grand opening was one hell of a party.

The whole place was everything Michael had hoped it would be. The Art Deco styling with blue and pink neon lights gave the whole club the feel of a Miami/South Beach hot spot, only far to the north of that fabled party town. The crowd didn’t seem to mind the odd mix of techno, New Wave, and grunge music that had marked the night; in fact, they seemed to eat it up.

“Haven’t played an instrument in years and you haven’t lost a damn bit of it.” Complemented Mitch as Michael took a seat at the bar.

"I missed this.” Michael admitted.

“Great job,” added Boar, giving Michael a playful slap on the back. His girlfriend Natasha was sitting next to him, beaming out a huge smile and clearly enjoying herself.

“Your boyfriend’s buddies know how to have a good time.” Said Boar to her. “Told you you’d like it here.”

Natasha whispered something into Boar’s ear and the two of them jaunted off to the dance floor. Rebecca took her seat.

“Boar’s playing coy, isn’t he?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not see it?” said Rebecca incredulously. “That rock on her left hand?”

“Say what?” said Mitch and Michael almost simultaneously.

“She’s wearing an engagement ring.” Rebecca spelled it out to the two of them as if they were complete simpletons.

“He didn’t tell me he was doing that!” Michael exclaimed. “Son of a bitch.”

Rebecca shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t want to take away from the festivities of tonight.”

“Take away? Fuck, that adds to them.” Said Michael excitedly. “We should…”

“No,” interjected Rebecca forcefully. “If he wants to keep this quiet, don’t blow it for him.”

“And speaking of things that have missed your notice.” Added Mitch. “Look over there.”

Michael’s gaze followed where Mitch was pointing. The first thing he noticed was the apparently happy reunion between Adrienne and Audrah, dancing together to the pounding beat of “Better Off Alone.” But then he realized that wasn’t what Mitch was referring to. Mitch was pointing to the girl/girl couple behind them: Sarah and her Wicca coven mate Lynne dancing behind them.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Michael asked.

“Maybe.” Said Rebecca nonchalantly. “Maybe she’s taking our advice finally.”

“And with another woman at that.” Observed Michael. There was a lustful hunger in his tone of voice.

“So what’s happening at Studio Gothic tonight?” asked Mitch, changing the subject.

“We’re closed. I gave the staff the night off and I posted signs that said everyone was to come down here.”

“Nice gesture.” Added Michael. “I appreciate that.”

“Well, we’re kinda competitors, but we’re kinda not. Seemed appropriate to move as much of South Street’s party to here tonight.”

“It seems to have worked.” Said Michael.

“I’m curious.” Asked Mitch. “How did you score Studio Gothic anyway, Rebecca?”

“Oh, you want to hear that story. Fair enough.” She said. “I showed up in Philly not long after you guys ran me out of Roanoke. I came with a lot of money. The Djinn and Mathias were, like most ancient kindred, really rich even if they didn’t look it. I wanted to invest it in something. I wanted to establish myself. So I started hanging in the clubs along South Street here.

“It started when I met Heather, a cute little Haverford student. We hooked up and she kinda showed me the ropes around here. Heather then introduced me to Venus, who ran Studio Gothic before me.”

Rebecca let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, I miss those two. Heather had this adorable little bubble butt on her and Venus…Oh, my God, she was just stacked. I mean huge.” She held her hands out from her chest to demonstrate. “So I hooked up with her too, as you might have guessed. With those two as my newest thralls, I got Venus to tell me who really owned the club. Turns out it was the Russian mob. Some guy named Orlov.

“Well, they didn’t take her blabbing their secrets very well. Sent some muscle after us. Poor Heather and Venus got caught in the crossfire.” She shook her head. “Damn shame. I liked the both of them. Anyway, I had my revenge. Got one of them to tell me where to find Orlov before I tore his throat out. So I went after him. A bit like Michael did with the Ninth, guns blazing, swords out, take no prisoners. Orlov got away, but I had the deed to the club and the accolades of the Prince for removing a persistent thorn in his side. Turns out this Orlov guy is a werewolf and a troublesome one at that. Been in charge of the club ever since.”

“Not quite the story I was expecting.” Said Mitch.

“No, but also no surprise given dear Becca’s gifts and talents.” Added Michael.

“Ruining Orlov gave all the prestige I needed to leverage one of the juiciest hunting grounds in the city. This used to be werewolf turf, South Street that is. Not anymore. And with that, everybody wanted a piece of me. Jimmy Dunn, the College, but I took Tiberius up on his offer and joined the Carthians. That didn’t make Walsh very happy, but too late.”

“Maybe Walsh wanted you for himself.” Offered Michael. “Can’t blame him.”

“Maybe, but I also have the reputation of killing Mathias so I think that scared him off.” Rebecca paused. “I wonder, given what Deb told us the other night. Maybe Walsh did know and he backed off because he knew I’d be in Monroe’s web.”

“Maybe. I’m afraid to ask.”

“Did I miss something?” interjected Mitch.

“Long story.” Said Michael dismissively. “And one best left to other venues to tell.”

“Hey, guys!” said Paul, joining them. “Did we miss the concert?”

“We’re doing an encore at midnight, but you missed the first set, yeah.” Said Michael.

Kathleen slithered up to Michael like a seductive snake. “Hello, gorgeous.” She hissed alluringly. Michael’s eyes grew big when he saw how she was dressed, but he gave her a gentle push away from him.

“Not tonight.” He said firmly, his usual answer to Kathleen when she was like this. He grabbed Rebecca by the hand. “Come on,” he said to her. “Let’s dance.” He then dragged her away from the bar.

But he didn’t lead Rebecca to the dance floor. Instead, they made their way to the back of the club and to the elevator to his office suite upstairs.

“Trying to get away from Kathleen, I take.” Said Rebecca as the elevator took them upstairs, a hint of disappointment on her voice. “I was actually hoping you were going to dance with me.”

“I just saw Sarah dancing with another woman. I just saw Kathleen wearing less clothing than should be legal. I just listened to you talk about two other women you’ve been with, describing their physical attributes in some imaginative detail.” He paused. “After all that, I am beyond horny. If I don’t fuck someone right now, I’m going to explode.”

“Oh, is that the kind of dancing you had in mind?” Rebecca purred. She moved in and gave him a passionate kiss.

“Besides, I missed out on having you and Deborah together the other night.” He fumbled under her skirt, discovering to his delight that she was almost as aroused as he was.

“That sounds like regret. You could have said no to Sarah.” Rebecca unzipped his pants and yanked them down.

“Not worth the fallout and you know it.” He replied. Rebecca gave him a gentle shove backwards and he landed on the office sofa with a mild thud.

“Well, maybe Lynne’ll get her to lighten up a bit.” She mounted him. “Damn, you weren’t kidding. You’re about as hard as I’ve ever felt you.”

“It’s fun to hear about your conquests. Fun to imagine you in the arms of someone else.”

“I know that’s one of your kinks, but I don’t like to talk about those two. They died because of me.”

Rebecca’s grim admission ended their conversation, and Michael focused on their lovemaking. His arousal was intense, driven not only by the things he’d mentioned, but the whole atmosphere of the night. Dozens of lovely young things in tight revealing clubwear. The pounding music. The success of their debut opening. All of it was like an aphrodisiac to Michael.

It didn’t take him long to reach climax and it came none too soon. He heard the elevator ding as Rebecca slid off of him. “Damn,” Michael growled. “It’s probably Kathleen come looking for me.” He jumped up and yanked his pants back up hurriedly.

But it was not Kathleen. Instead, who emerged from the elevator was Solomon and Julia.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” Said Michael. “I wasn’t expecting you two tonight.”

“We have a problem.” Solomon grumbled.

“Do you ever relax?” complained Michael. “This is a night for joy and celebration. Not problems.”

“Seems you were celebrating just fine. I can smell you on each other.”

“I could say the same about the two of you.” Retorted Michael playfully. He knew, of course, that Solomon and Julia had become lovers. But Solomon was still conservative enough to find banter about that distasteful. He frowned in response to Michael's mirthful teasing.

Julia then took the lead. “Regardless, Solomon’s right and this really can’t be ignored.” She pulled her laptop out from under her arm. “After the Malleus started giving us trouble and after Boar reported his difficulties with the Abbey, I began following the Internet for hunter activity again. I turned up something just last night.”

“Show me.” Said Michael, mildly exasperated.

“There’s a Malleus thug looking for you and you specifically.” She opened the laptop and showed him the posts. “Knows a lot about you.”

“You ain’t kidding. How the hell does this guy know these things? My home city? My birthday? The rough date of my disappearance from mortal life? Who is this guy?”

“His name is David Hemingway.”

“Oh, my God…” said Michael in disbelief. Rebecca herself gasped at the name.

“You know him?”

“A ghost from the past. An old friend from our childhood.” Said Rebecca.

“David and I were best buds growing up. Church friends. In youth group together. He and I were into computers together, hacking, breaking copy protection on games, all kinds of mischief. Then he got a case of holier-than-thou-itis and it all fell apart. Then he moved away. I haven’t seen him since I was 15.”

“I had a crush on him.” Rebecca admitted.

“What the hell is he doing with the Malleus? He wasn’t Catholic. Hell, he was part that group of people in our church that when we said the creeds, they’d say ‘holy Christian church’ instead of ‘holy catholic church’ just because they didn’t want to have anything to do with Rome. He hates Catholics.”

“And you’re a far cry from the good little church boy you once were. Things change.” Observed Solomon.

Michael growled inarticulately. “Either way, we deal with this tomorrow.” He looked towards Julia. “Summon the others. The whole coterie. Boar, Mitch too. We’ll meet here tomorrow at midnight.”

Solomon shrugged and turned to leave. Julia followed. Michael paced the room, like a tiger in a cage.

“I’d forgotten about your crush on him.” He snarled at Rebecca.

“That was a long time ago.” Retorted Rebecca, rolling her eyes.

“You said you always loved me.”

Rebecca let out her breath impatiently. “And I also said that I was A) not a bastion of maturity and B) a mite afraid of your dark side. David was a hiccup, a momentary lapse of judgment. Like Shawn was.” She paused and looked at him disdainly. “Why are you angry about this? This is ancient history.”

Michael continued pacing. “Did I tell you I went back home? I spent a night in Charleston. I went to make some manner of peace with my past, with the mortal I once was. Eye opening experience.”

He continued pacing. “I wanted to be wrong.” He said after a long moment. “I wanted to be wrong about my father, my mother, my sister, everything. I wanted my Dad to be my Dad, a loving nurturing parent like he’s supposed to be. I wanted my memories of him as a rampaging bully with serious anger management issues to be nothing more than a bad dream. It wasn’t. He’s an asshole and always has been.

“My mother, same thing. No, she’s not the loving caring figure I needed. She was a coward, too worried about what the neighbors would think to stand up for herself or for her children. My sister, a sweet and innocent child? No, she grew up to be another vampire’s whore and given half a chance, she’d have fucked even me." He paused to gauge Rebecca's reaction. Her shocked countenance did not disappoint. "Yeah, that happened. For real.”

He resumed pacing again. “And now, Julia brings me word that my best friend growing up is a Malleus Malificarum hunter, one of their best. I wanted to be wrong about him too. No, he’s not really a sanctimonious little prick, vain, narcissistic, and thoroughly convinced of his own rightness. But that’s exactly what he is.

“They call us monsters. But at least we kindred are honest about being backstabbing bloodsucking fiends. Humans? Fuck the whole damn lot of them.”

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