Knock. Knock. Corwin rapped on the motel room door.
The door to the motel room cracked open. “Can I help you?” said a suspicious Shawn from behind it.
“I’m Corwin. Michael Allen’s roommate. I’m the one who contacted you.”
“Ah, good. Come on in.”
“Thanks. I brought food.” Corwin proffered a bucket of Kentucky Fried and a 2-liter of soda.
“Thanks. We’re starved.” Admitted Rebecca.
Corwin set down the bucket and popped open the 2-liter. Rebecca sat down next to him and dove into a breast, while Shawn stood back for a bit.
“So, you think he’s alive?” said Shawn.
“Michael? Yes, I do.” Said Corwin. “Eat. They’ll be time enough to talk in a bit.”
Shawn stepped forward and grabbed a drumstick. He sat down. “You explained some in your letter. But not everything.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d come. I’ll need your help if what I think has happened has.” Corwin took a bite himself.
“And that is?”
“Well, let me start with a story. Last October, about a year ago now, Michael was in bad shape. He’d broken up with his high school girlfriend and was pretty depressed over it.” Corwin’s tone gave no indication that he knew Rebecca was that girlfriend, and if her glance to Shawn gave it away, Corwin gave no sign. “I think that left him open to get involved with some bad people. A few days later, he came by our room, gathered up a bunch of things and left. That was the last time I saw him. When he was declared missing about three weeks later, I presumed foul play. Now I have a different theory.”
“Go on.” Said Rebecca, getting more food.
“What if that rough crowd didn’t kill him but recruited him instead? It’s the only thing that makes sense given what I’ve seen.”
“You’re sure you saw him?” inquired Shawn.
“Absolutely. And if it hadn’t been a crowded bar, I’d even have spoken to him. But by the time I got through the horde of people, he was gone.”
“If you saw him, then so have others.” Concluded Shawn.
“Indeed. Finding him, now that we know he’s alive and around, shouldn’t be too difficult. The tricky part is going to be what to do with him once we do find him.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” said Shawn, looking at Rebecca as if sharing a private joke. “So where do we start?”
“If you’re up for it tonight, we can go downtown and do some asking around. But I know you’ve been on the road today and may want to rest.”
Rebecca looked at Shawn. “What do you think?”
“I say we get started. The sooner we get to it, the sooner we’re going to have our answers.” Shawn paused. “Sooner we can get back home.”
“Then let’s finish our food and get going.”
----
They parked downtown and walked towards Hokie House, figuring to start there. Any number of the bars in Blacksburg could have sufficed, but Corwin decided that would be the best starting point. It was popular and often crowded.
Rebecca and Shawn lagged behind Corwin a bit, conversing with one another. “It seems such an odd thing for Michael to frequent this sort of place.”
“Everything points to him being a vastly different person that he used to be. Let’s not forget, the last time we were here, my brother almost died. Now, the reason why makes sense.”
“You think Michael did it?”
“It adds up, doesn’t it? Michael falls in with the criminal element, gets a taste of power, sees his old nemesis from high school and decides to settle the score.”
“And what will you do when we find him?”
“He has a lot to answer for, Becca. Not just for what he did to Todd, but what he did to you, his parents, all his friends back home. I don’t know what I’m going to do when we find him, but I’m certain that Michael will regret whatever it is.”
“No,” said Rebecca forcefully, stopping and putting her hand on Shawn’s chest to stop him. “No, we’re here to save him not punish him.” Corwin noticed their pause and turned around to rejoin them.
“I didn’t contact you two to avenge the wrongs he may have done you. You were his friends once, as was I.” Emphasized Corwin. “And we may be the only chance of bringing him back from whatever hell he’s condemned himself to.”
“Michael and I were never friends.” Said Shawn sharply.
“And yet here you are.”
“I came for her. She’s the one who used to love him.” He turned to Rebecca. “And the more we learn about what’s really going on, the more I hope you realize how unworthy he was of that.”
“Stop it, Shawn. You’re not making this easier.”
“You can always go home.” Said Corwin. “if you’re not going to help. Rebecca and I can do this alone.”
“You think I’d trust you to lead her into danger alone? No thanks. I may not like it or any of this, but I’m in.”
“Very well. Let’s see what we can find out.”
----
Their search was not entirely fruitless, but what they gathered they found of little use. Yes, Michael had been there. No, no one had seen him tonight. No, no one knew where he lived or what he did for a living. Still, Corwin’s story now had corroboration. They knew he was telling them the truth.
Although tired, Shawn was restless when they returned to the Red Lion Inn. “I think there may be a more efficient way of going about this.”
“What’s that?” asked Corwin.
“Alright, what do we know? You suspect he’s involved with criminals of some sort, a gang or the Mob or whatever. We know he’s been seen in the Hokie House and whatever other bar you were in…”
“Sharkey’s.”
“Alright. Hokie House didn’t card at the door; they card at the bar.”
“You can bet he’s got a good fake ID by now.”
“Maybe so, but here’s my theory. Whatever criminal element exists in this town, I can guarantee it’s here to cater to the student body. Drugs or prostitution. Vices. We’re not talking gun running or animal smuggling or money laundering here. He’s probably a dealer, a point man, or a pimp. So he’s going to want to hit those places with the easiest access to the most students.”
“In other words, those places that let in the under-21 crowd?” said Rebecca.
“Exactly. He may frequent other bars for his own pleasure, but when he’s doing business, he’ll be at places like we were tonight.”
“Convenient,” added Rebecca, “since none of us have fake IDs and can’t get into those bars that check at the door.”
“So what do you want to do?” asked Corwin.
“Stake out the same location. Hokie House seems quite popular. I say we cage the joint for a few nights.”
Corwin shrugged. “Works for me. Rebecca?”
“Can’t hurt, especially if we know he’s been there within the last week. He’s bound to come back at some point.”
“Then it’s agreed. Tomorrow night then.” Corwin got up to leave.
“Tomorrow.” Agreed Shawn. “See you then.”
“Good night.” Added Rebecca as Corwin departed.
---
Corwin came over to the pool table, his hands full with three sodas. “Two Cokes, one Diet, as requested.”
“Thanks. It’s your shot.” Replied Shawn. It was the next night and they were back at Hokie House. The three of them had staked out a pool table for themselves and had played several games of Cutthroat to pass the time. No sign of Michael yet though.
Corwin lined up his shot and sank a solid. “So how long do we wait?” He took the offered soda and drank.
“Place is pretty dead tonight. It was busier last night.” Observed Rebecca. She drank from her diet as she tried to figure out her next shot.
“Thursdays are an off-night here. You get the hump-day crowd on Wednesday and, of course, the weekend starts tomorrow.”
“A light crowd doesn’t help us. Whatever poison Michael may be peddling, a quiet bar means two things. Fewer customers and what he’s doing may be more obvious to probing eyes.” Said Shawn. “I say we finish this game and call it a night. Better luck tomorrow.”
Rebecca shook her head rapidly, as if trying to shake off something. “I agree. I’m not feeling myself.”
“Yeah, I’m a little off too.” Admitted Shawn. “Must be something we ate.”
“That’s Chinese for you.”
“No, that’s cheap Chinese for you.” Said Rebecca with a wry smile. Her look contorted a bit. “Ugh. Feeling a little dizzy.”
“Maybe we should go now?” offered Shawn sympathetically.
“Doesn’t matter to me. I’m losing anyway.” Replied Corwin.
“Nothing’s going to happen tonight. Let’s get back to the motel.”
They knocked the remaining balls into the pockets and put away their cues. Corwin took a couple of big gulps off his drink and then headed out the door. Shawn and Rebecca followed.
“Too bad you’re not feeling well,” admitted Shawn. “I was kinda hoping you and I would…you know…tonight.”
“I’m not exactly in the mood even if I hadn’t eaten bad Chinese.”
“You’ve been kinda cold lately.” Complained Shawn mildly. “Distant.”
“Can you blame me?” she replied as they reached Corwin’s car. “I’ve spent the last year of my life thinking I had something to do with his disappearance. Now I find out it’s all faked. I’m a jumble of emotions, Shawn. You don’t want to be in the middle of that mess.”
“Yeah, I do.” Offered Shawn. “You couldn’t sort it out alone with your brother and you won’t here.”
They got in. “Yeah, I had Michael to help me.”
“And me." reminded Shawn.
“And what would Michael say to that? That you’ve already taken his place in my heart and in my life. And now, you want his job too? To be that consoling shoulder like he was?”
“If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be like this to begin with. One tragedy in your life was enough, but he didn’t see it that way. His faking all this was deliberate and you know it as well as I. He did it to hurt you.” Shawn’s temper flared. “You say you’re a jumble of emotions. You shouldn’t be. You should be angry.”
“Maybe I am. But maybe there’s a part of me that still loves him.”
Shawn darkened at that admission. Rebecca continued. “Yeah, that’s a part of this too. You say it should be simple. It’s not. You forget something, Shawn. I cheated on him. I betrayed him. Michael has a right to be angry with us.”
“And that justifies what he’s done?”
“No, the punishment doesn’t fit the crime. But to pretend that we’re blameless and that it’s all his fault is a lie.”
Shawn was quiet for several minutes as they drove across town. “Maybe we shouldn’t be here.” He admitted after a bit.
“We’re his only hope.”
“But if what you say is true and if what I think about what happened to Todd is right, he may just as easily shoot us as talk to us.”
----
By the time they got back to the Red Lion, both Rebecca and Shawn were feeling quite queasy. Shawn staggered back to the bathroom and began to vomit. Rebecca collapsed onto the bed and watched the room spin above her for a bit.
“Maybe the hospital…” she began to think, just as unconsciousness took her.
She awoke to find the room still spinning and someone atop her, hands groping at her. “Shawn…” she muttered weakly. Or did she? Was she even awake? Rebecca couldn’t tell. The whole world seemed unreal and dreamlike.
“Not Shawn.” Came a voice.
“God, Michael! Is this real? Or just a dream?”
“What do you want it to be?” His voice seemed distant, and yet close.
Rebecca didn't know how to answer that. Is this real? Do I want it to be? What do I want? Why did I come here? The questions spun around in her head but a single moment of clarity cut through them.
“Hold me. Tell me you’re real. Tell me…” she said. There was a desperate longing in her voice that Rebecca knew she meant it.
“I can do more than that.” She felt him enter her.
“Oh God, I should never…” She felt his hand against her mouth, gently silencing her. She kissed the fingers, relishing each thrust of his body.
“We’ll be together again soon.” Said the voice. And Rebecca slipped into oblivion once more.
The world rushed back into her mind in what seemed to be a few seconds later. She was alone, lying on the bed. Shawn was next to her, sleeping soundly. Her head hurt. She ran her hands down her belly and discovered her pants and panties had been removed. Her nethers were still moist and tender. What had happened? Had it been a dream? A hallucination?
She sat up. “Shawn, you awake?”
“Ummm” was the only sound she got out of him.
She gave him a shake. “Hey! Wake up.” He stirred.
“What?”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?” He looked down at her naked lower half. “Maybe.” He admitted. “I don’t remember. Everything’s so fuzzy.”
“I thought I felt someone on me last night. In me.” She looked embarrassed, but decided to say nothing more.
“You moaned his name several times last night.” said Shawn, as if reading her thoughts. “Whatever made us sick really fucked us up. I was seeing things. Hearing things. I’m not sure what was real.”
“Can food poisoning do that?” wondered Rebecca.
He shrugged. “We probably should have gone to the hospital instead of coming back here. How you feeling now?”
“Death warmed over. But I think I’ll be alright.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called out to him. Shouldn’t have said his name.”
“Don’t worry about it.” That surprised Rebecca. “I really shouldn’t be so jealous. He used to be a good friend and I know you still care about him. We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
“I want to save him, Shawn.” In the back of her mind, she admitted to herself she now wanted more than that. But she said nothing of it. “What time is it?”
“11:30am. Wow.” exclaimed Shawn. “We have most of the day ahead of us. What shall we do with ourselves?”
“Might be a good idea just to stay in.” admitted Rebecca. “We got our asses kicked by whatever that was last night. Neither of us is 100%. And I've got an idea of what we might do...” She opened and closed her legs tantalizingly. “Maybe I can make up for last night a bit. I think we might enjoy it more fully conscious.”
“I’m sure.” Said Shawn with a smile. As he climbed on top of her, she closed her eyes and imagined someone else.
---
Corwin was right on schedule that night. Shawn let him in. He came inside, minus his almost customary offering of food, and looked the two of them over briefly.
“You both look better than when I dropped you off last night.” He said. “Feeling better I hope?”
“Much.” Said Rebecca.
“Let’s hope for some better luck tonight…and no food poisoning. What are you up for dinnerwise?”
“Something mild. No Chinese.” Said Shawn adamantly.
“Fair enough. I think I know just the thing.”
Macado’s was a semi-local restaurant chain, serving sandwiches of various sorts. Corwin figured that was “mild” enough and drove them over from the Red Lion to the nearest Mac’s off University City Blvd.
“From here to Hokie House.” Declared Corwin after they’d ordered.
“Right now, I just hope this meal stays down.” Confessed Shawn. He looked over at Corwin. “Out of curiosity. Did you get sick last night?”
“A little.” Admitted Corwin sheepishly. “But not, I’m almost embarrassed to say, like you guys.”
“Not sure what we had on the buffet that you didn’t.” wondered Rebecca.
Corwin shrugged. “Beats me. I hope you guys aren’t too upset with me. It’s not like I brought you down here to give you food poisoning.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Said Shawn. “No harm done.”
“I hope we see him tonight.” Said Rebecca, changing the subject. She tried not to sound too eager.
“Well, tonight and tomorrow should be good bets.” Said Corwin. “If all our guesses about his activities are right, he’ll be working the town tonight. I can’t imagine he won’t hit Hokie House at some point before last call.”
“You sound almost a little too eager.” Said Shawn.
Rebecca blushed. She apparently didn’t sound as uneager as she'd hoped. “I want to know the truth, that’s all.” It was not a complete lie, but she was now trying to cover her tracks. “You still upset about last night? I would have thought today would have ended that.”
“Did I miss something?” asked Corwin, confused.
Shawn looked like he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. “No, it’s nothing. Just a private joke.”
“You don’t share your girlfriend’s enthusiasm for finding our mutual friend.”
“I said before Michael and I were never friends.” Shawn said defensively. “I’m here for her. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. After all, one of our guesses is that this guy nearly killed my brother, beat to within an inch of his life. Not exactly someone I’m eager to see.”
“Well, eager or not, odds are good we’ll see him tonight.”
----
Getting a pool table on a Friday night at Hokie House proved far harder than the night before. So the trio had to content themselves with simply mingling amidst the crowd. That had an advantage: Allowing them to spread out a bit. But there was also a disadvantage: Those looking for a salve for their loneliness were drawn to an attractive young woman who appeared to be alone.
For their parts, Shawn and Corwin were left to their own devices. Guys, even handsome ones, tended to be the hunters, not the hunted, in this environment.
Shawn noticed Corwin watching him almost as much as he surveyed the crowd. It was a look of curiosity more than anything else, as if Corwin was gauging Shawn’s reaction to all that was going on. Shawn didn’t appreciate the scrutiny and found that he was liking their guide less and less as time went on.
Rebecca made her way over to Shawn’s side. “I’m growing tired of being hit on.”
“You should be flattered.” His tone was insincere. After a second, he softened. “Hell, I’d hit on you if I was on the hunt here.”
“Thanks, I think.” She replied. “You know, if I wanted a dick between my legs, I could take home any guy in here.”
“If you want a dick between your legs, all you need do is ask.” Flirted Shawn.
She gave him an askance look. “Thanks for proving my point, Mr. One-of-the-guys-in-here.” She teased in return.
“I would have thought you had enough earlier. Between last night and this afternoon.”
“I did,” she said, half-truthfully, wandering over to the stairs to look down on the lower level of the bar, “but there’s something about this…” She stopped mid-sentence.
“What is it?” asked Shawn, straightening up and looking below as well.
A tall pale young man in a black trench coat had walked inside. As he entered, it was as if the entire room turned to look at him.
“That’s him.” Said Shawn. “My God, he’s changed.”
They both could see it. Gone was the sheepish nerd they had remembered. The young man before them seemed self-assured, confident, and completely within his element. They watched closely as two or three young women made their way to his side. Rebecca felt a twinge of jealousy herself as one of them put her arms about his waist. She let out a slight cry.
Despite the noise in the room, the distraction of the crowd, and everything else, Michael looked up and looked right at her. A predatory smile crossed lips. It chilled her to the bone.
“Go,” barked Shawn to Rebecca. “He’s seen us.”
Michael took a step back and headed back towards the door he came in, making for an escape. Rebecca tried to dash down the stairs, but the press of the crowd slowed her progress. By the time she reached the bottom, he was gone.
“God damnit.” She swore. “How did he hear me in this noise?”
“I don’t know, but the streets are clearer. Keep moving.” Pressed Shawn. They pushed their way outside onto the street. They glanced about looking, but did not see him amidst the crowds of college students walking up and down the strip.
“Damn. We can’t have come this far to fail now.” Lamented Rebecca.
“There, that black sedan!” barked Shawn. He pointed and Rebecca saw Michael’s tall form get into the driver’s side of a nearby car. The car started up. Rebecca darted into the street, determined to block the car with her body.
“Becca!” screamed Shawn when he saw what she was doing. Michael veered and swung around her, missing her by a good bit and scaring a number of the mingling students on the sidewalk.
“Are you mad?” snarled Shawn as he dashed out to fetch her.
“I wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. He knows it’s us.”
Corwin’s car came around the bend and Corwin laid on the horn. The pair spun around startled. “Come on. Now’s our chance.” Shawn and Rebecca dashed over and got in. And the chase was on.
“Did you see him?” asked Shawn as Corwin sped down Main Street. “Black Pontiac or Buick, some GM car. Couldn’t get the exact make and model in the dark.”
“I saw him. That should be him about three cars up. Looks like he’s turning onto Price’s Fork.”
“Stay with him.”
“Pray the lights are cooperative.” Said Corwin, making the turn.
At the next light, Michael’s car made a right, heading up Tom’s Creek. Corwin stayed with him. They followed him through town, keeping close, but not too close.
“I don’t want to spook him into racing off on us. I want to know where he’s going.”
“He knows we’re after him.” Said Rebecca. “He saw us.”
“The more threatened he feels, the more dangerous this becomes.” Said Corwin. The black car reached US 460 and then sped across the highway onto an old road leading into the woods. Corwin continued to follow, but the darkness of the woods made it harder to see their quarry.
“What is this place?”
“Undeveloped land. There’s been talk of putting apartment complexes back here, but none of the contractors have started any work here yet. The only thing back here should be old farmhouses and cabins.” The pavement quickly turned to dirt and Corwin slowed his car down to avoid crashing in the dark woods.
“You sure he’s still ahead of us?”
“Quite sure. The woods are too thick for it to have gone off-road and there’s been no side roads. Look, there’s a cabin up ahead.”
“And a car parked outside.” Added Rebecca. “The one we want.”
“Alright, let’s be careful.” Said Corwin. “I’m going to drive past and then park a little bit away. That’ll put some distance between us and the cabin and maybe make him think he lost us. Maybe then we can approach unnoticed.”
Corwin kept going down the road and pulled over to the side after about 200 yards. He got out, and Shawn and Rebecca followed suit. They said nothing, a palpable sense of danger had come over each of them. The only sound they could hear was the noise of the woods, birds, crickets, and what not. Rebecca had a brief flashback to another woodland adventure, nearly a year ago, her and their quarry alone in the night.
“Had we gone all the way that night, would it makes things now worse or better?” she wondered grimly. She followed close behind Shawn. Corwin took point as they closed on the house.
“No lights on.” Whispered Corwin, crouching behind a fallen tree. “Odd.”
“He can’t have been more than 2 minutes ahead of us.” Added Shawn in a hushed tone. “He's got to be here.”
“He’s probably waiting for us.” Added Rebecca, remembering Michael’s smile at the bar. The thought chilled her.
“We can come back tomorrow. I don’t like this.” Admitted Shawn.
“No,” said Rebecca. “I want to know now.” She stood up and headed towards the house.
“Becca!” said Shawn with exasperation, almost raising his voice. “Be careful.”
“He won’t hurt me.” She said and then headed for the front door. The others followed, more cautiously.
The door was unlocked. She stepped inside. The first room, a kitchen/dining room combo, was somewhat messy, with a stack of books on the table. Rebecca paused at the pile to examine them.
“Roleplaying games. Shadowrun, BattleTech.” she said aloud.
“Those were Michael’s staples.” Added Corwin. “He’s here all right.”
“Indeed he is.” Said a voice. The lights came on with a flash, blinding the three of them.
When the blindness faded, they could see the same tall lanky figure they’d spotted at the bar in the doorway behind them. Now seen up close, they knew for sure.
“You’ve done well, Corwin.” Said Michael.
“Thank you, mi’lord.” He replied. Rebecca and Shawn looked at him in disbelief, doubly so at the handgun Corwin now pointed at Shawn.
Michael walked inside and closed the door behind him. “Bind him.” He ordered.
Corwin motioned for the two of them to move further inside. Wary of his weapon, they did as commanded.
“So it was a trap. All of it a trap.” Said Shawn.
“You wouldn’t have come if I’d just asked.” Said Michael.
“You underestimate how she still feels about you if you believe that.” Shawn almost didn’t believe those words escaped his lips, but he was too angry now to care.
“We came to help you.” pleaded Rebecca. She turned to Corwin. “How much of it was a lie?”
“Not as much as you might think.” Answered Michael. “Falling in with the wrong crowd, all that was true. Although not quite in the way that you think. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, Shawn, it was in fact me who hospitalized your brother a year ago. You had that right too.”
“Son of bitch, I knew it.” Heedless of Corwin’s gun, he lunged at Michael. Michael grabbed him by the throat and flung him back, as easily as he might manhandle a small dog.
“You should take a lesson from what happened to him. If I can so easily pulverize him, surely I’m not the skinny little wimp you remember. Hurry up, Corwin, before he hurts someone.”
Corwin grabbed Shawn and forced him down into a chair. Corwin then bound him securely, tying his wrists together and then his arms to the chair.
“What are you going to do with us?” said Shawn, unable to conceal his fear any longer.
“I’m going to talk.” Said Michael. “I’m going to tell you what’s really going on.”
“Then why tie him up?” said Rebecca.
“That will become clear in time.” Said Michael. “He stays put. As for you, I will not harm you.”
“I don’t believe you.” Said Rebecca. ““You’re not the Michael I remember. He was kind. You’re a monster.”
Michael laughed at that, a loud boisterous laugh that chilled Rebecca down to her very bones. “You said yourself once I had a dark side. You were right. I’ve simply come to terms with who I really am. The whole world has been telling me all my life that I’m a freak, an outsider. Well, they were right and I’m not fighting it anymore. Is there darkness about me? Yes. I don’t put up with people’s bullshit like I used to. No one makes a fool of me, not anymore.” He looked at Shawn fiercely. “Your brother learned that lesson the hard way.” He softened as he turned back to Rebecca. “Besides, I think you’ll like this version of me just as much, if not more so, than the old me.”
“Not likely.” she said. It sounded only marginally more forceful than she meant it. Deep down, she knew he was right. Every word, every motion, even the most frightening, seemed to turn her on all the more. She couldn’t believe how attractive she found him. It was almost unnatural.
“You never could lie to me.” Said Michael with a sly smile.
“That doesn’t change what’s happening now. You trick us into coming down here, hold us at gunpoint, tie Shawn up.” Rebecca tried to sound fiercer than she felt, but Michael seemed unfazed.
“Each of those things you accuse me of has a reason behind it. A good one. Let’s start with the trickery. Ok, I admit to that. I had Corwin write that letter to pique your interest. I wasn’t sure if I still mattered. I didn’t know if you’d come. If I made it into a mystery to be solved, that would give me time to find out for sure. Corwin’s been spying on you the whole time, relaying to me your thoughts, concerns, and ideas about me all along.”
“The whole thing a set up.”
“It also gave me a clear picture about him.” Said Michael, pointing to Shawn. “What his real motives were.”
“He came because of me. If Corwin’s been spying on us all along, you know that.”
“But at one point,” Interjected Corwin. “he let slip the truth. Something about making Michael regret running into you two again.”
“And I contradicted him.” Added Rebecca. She looked at Michael. “I told him we weren’t here for that. We came to help you.”
“I don’t doubt that you did. But not him. He came for revenge. As his attempted assault on me a minute ago proves.”
“I don’t believe you.” Said Rebecca.
“I’ve said no lies tonight, Rebecca.” said Michael, walking over to Shawn. “But what have we here?” He reached into the pocket of Shawn’s jacket to pull out a small pistol. “A H&K P7. Nice little gun. Small, concealable. Perfect for keeping secrets from the woman you’re sleeping with, eh?” He looked at Rebecca.
“That’s not mine. I don’t own a gun. I swear, Rebecca, I’ve never seen it before.”
“So, who do you believe?” said Michael, ejecting the clip and tossing the gun to Corwin. “Did I abduct you tonight, hold you at gunpoint without reason? Do I plan to murder you or worse? Or is it as I’ve said, just an elaborate scheme to find out the truth about you and to protect myself from him.”
“I don’t know.” She replied honestly.
“This may not sound like much reassurance, but if I truly wanted to harm you, I could have done it at any time.”
“You still can.” Said Rebecca with a shiver.
“Yes.” Admitted Michael. “I could. But tell me, which is the better course? To want to do something and be unable or to be able to do something and not want to?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The difference between who I was and who I am now.” He reached up to run his hand across her cheek. She did not flinch at his touch.
“Don’t touch her!” demanded Shawn. “She’s mine.”
“A mere possession, Shawn? How cold of you.”
“I didn’t mean it that way and you know it.”
“But how can we trust your word when you’ve been caught in a lie?”
“No more than we can trust you. You faked your own death. Disappeared. Do you have any idea what that did to her, especially after she buried her brother under similar circumstances? Which of us is the greater sinner, I wonder?”
“That!” exclaimed Michael excitedly. “is a very good question. Which is the worst indeed. Or the better? Perhaps we should let Rebecca decide. If she chooses you, you both may walk out of here, minus your gun of course, and I will bother you no more. If she chooses me, then you can go, but she stays.”
“And you accuse me of thinking of her as a possession.”
“Oh, you are right, Shawn. That was a poor choice of wording.” Admitted Michael. “Regardless of her choice, you are both free. But with or without her, I want you out of Blacksburg by this time tomorrow. Corwin, untie him and leave us.”
“Yes, mi’lord.” Corwin cut Shawn’s bonds and freed him. He then headed out the door without a word.
“Your bodyguard is gone, with the guns.” Said Shawn, coming to his feet.
“I believe you’ve already seen ample demonstration that I am quite capable at hand fighting. And working to carry out your vendetta is not likely to win you points with the lovely Rebecca.” Retorted Michael.
“You can’t seriously be thinking of staying with him. Living in his world, with all that violence and ugliness.” Pleaded Shawn.
“Who says we have to stay there?” replied Rebecca, her eyes never leaving Michael. “Surely there’s a better life than that for you, Michael.”
“Ah, yes, and now we get back to your purpose in coming.” Said Michael. “To redeem me, to save me from myself. What will you do to bring me back to the light?” Between his words and the look in his eyes, it was obvious what Michael had in mind.
“Don’t do it, Rebecca.” Said Shawn. “He’s toying with you. Can’t you see it? This is just a game to him!”
“Forgive me, Shawn. But I can’t leave him here. I have to do this.”
“That sounds like she’s made her choice.” Said Michael. Michael dug into the pocket of his trench coat and tossed his car keys to Shawn. “Go back to the Red Lion. You are free to go.”
“Don’t do this to me. Rebecca.” Pleaded Shawn.
“Now you know how it feels.” Said Michael cruelly.
Shawn’s face hardened in anger. “This isn’t over, Allens. I won’t let you do this to her.”
“Go, before you regret it.” Said Michael commandingly.
Shawn turned and headed out the door in a rage, slamming the door behind him.
Rebecca looked at the door for several long minutes, saying nothing. “I hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life.”
“You can always follow him out if you think so.”
“I don’t know anything anymore. Nothing is certain.”
“Is that truly so? Nothing?” said Michael, coming to her side.
“I came for you. I stayed for you. And yet there’s still a part of me that can’t believe you’re really here. That you’re really alive. Shawn was right about one thing. What you did hurt me just as badly as my brother's death, if not more so. And I don’t know whether to hate you or love you.”
“You broke my heart, Rebecca. With him. That act, more than anything else, condemned me to this hell.”
“So you don’t know whether to hate me or love me either.”
Michael gave a curt nod in reply to that.
"So what happens now?" said Rebecca, fear rising in her voice.
"You can either kill me or kiss me. I leave that choice to you."
“I don’t think I’ll stop at just kissing.” She admitted.
Michael pulled her into his arms. “Stop fighting it. We’ve waited far too long.”
---
Shawn sat in the car, pensive. Even through the closed windows, he could faintly hear the sounds within the cabin. His girl with him, with twice the gusto and ten times the passion she’d ever mustered with him.
He should have left. He should have taken the keys and driven back to town. Left her to her own stupidity.
That wasn’t his first mistake. He should have pressed Michael on the lie about the gun. There had been no gun in his pocket. How Michael had managed that bit of prestidigitation, Shawn didn’t know. But it was well played and Shawn knew he’d been outmaneuvered.
He’d been outmaneuvered on everything. Everything masterfully played. The letter, the spy in their midst, the planted gun, everything there to undermine him and to win her back. Even Corwin’s pointed questions, designed to draw attention to his jealousy. The only thing that didn’t seem to add in was the food poisoning from the night before.
"Wait a minute," he thought. "Could it have been?"
Rage filled him. “He did it!” Shawn yelled aloud. “He had us drugged. He came into the room! He raped her. I didn’t touch her last night, he did!”
He stepped out of the car and was about to head towards the house. Suddenly, Rebecca was before him, naked as the day she was born.
“Eeyah!” exclaimed Shawn, startled. “How did you…Why are you naked?”
She gave him no answer, but looked at him with an odd look. Like a predator toying with its prey. It was extremely unnerving.
“There’s something you need to know…” Shawn began.
Rebecca growled at him, a sound no human should be able to make. He jumped back, striking the car, his heart in his throat. He watched as her canines lengthened. “What the…Oh, God, no!”
Rebecca lunged in, fangs bared. Shawn got out a scream, but only for a second.
Act Two Chapter Five
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Act Two Chapter Three - Peace Sells
“You fool!” snarled Mathias at Deborah. “No vampire, and I mean none, has any business in the forest. I work tirelessly to keep the lupines away with promises and threats, and now your childe and Solomon have ruined everything.”
Deborah stood silent. In all the years she had lived under Mathias as her Prince, she had never seen him quite this angry. She was grateful that Solomon and Michael had both (on her advice) declined Mathias’ invitation to appear before him. Who knows what might have happened then?
“Don’t forget the mages, mi’lord.” Quipped Ernie. “They’re in this too.”
Ernie had told the Prince the same story he’d shared with Deborah and her allies the night before; the exact same story, no additional omissions or revelations.
“Yes,” said Mathias. “That makes things worse.” He glared hard at Deborah. “I should end your childe for this travesty.”
“Oh, don’t do that. He’s too much fun.” Added Ernie again.
Mathias looked askance at Ernie. Deborah read between the lines. Ernie was making an ultimatum. Would Mathias blink?
“Solomon is guilty also.” Interjected Andreas. “Should not the ancillae suffer the same fate?”
Deborah did not like where this was going. “My Prince,” she added hurriedly. “after the Djinn, Solomon and Michael are your two strongest fighters. If you offer them up as sacrificial lambs to the werewolves and this offering is rejected, who then will fight your war for you?”
“Oooh, good play.” Commented Ernie. “Although, it seems unfair to allow pretty little Deborah to get completely off the hook for her folly.”
“You have a suggestion?” queried Mathias.
“Kill the thralls. Particularly the two most likely candidates, Mitchell and Boorman.”
“Maybe Michael was right,” Deborah mused. The suggestion had not surprised her. In fact, she had a ready retort. “Blacksburg has seen much death lately. How long before someone starts asking questions?”
“That we can lay at your feet as well, dear Deborah.” Spat Mathias. “Another sin for which Michael goes unpunished.”
“He is young and impulsive, as are all kindred in their first years. Tell me. Have not Andreas and Sophia had to cover up their childer’s indiscretions as well? It seems Roanoke’s unsolved murder rate has gone up recently as well.” Deborah went on the attack. “Besides, my lord Prince, I somehow suspect that if the mages and the werewolves are after those two thralls of mine, then they’d hardly be happy to find them corpses on the morrow.”
Mathias glared at her with frustration and she knew she’d won. Mathias was boxed into a corner and everyone knew it. His only option was to fight.
“I will not have open war on my watch. Blood in the streets will call down too much scrutiny from mortal authorities, regardless of whether it is mortal, werewolf, or Kindred blood. Djinn!” He barked the last word loudly, although his bodyguard had been standing silently behind him the whole time.
The Djinn stepped forward. Mathias continued. “Chief Tyler needs to know who rules this city. Remind him. The rest of you, get out!”
Deborah departed quickly, wondering what price she might pay for her victory here tonight.
After the assembled kindred had left, the Djinn remained. “Mi’lord,” he said softly. “Might I ask a boon for this task. After all, Tyler is a seasoned warrior. He will not be easily defeated.”
Mathias gave him an incredulous look. “Not for you.”
The Djinn, realizing now he would not even get to make his proposal with Mathias in this mood, gave his sire a curt nod and then vanished into the shadows.
----
“So, how did it go?” queried Michael.
“There will be no war.” Said Deborah with frustration.
“I wasn’t aware that was up to us.” Interjected Solomon. “Or the Prince for that matter.”
“Chief Tyler dies tonight at the Djinn’s hand. That will end it. No war. No casualties. No vulnerability.”
“So what happens now?” asked Michael.
“We lay low and hope Mathias is prone to forget the events of these past few nights.”
“What about your plans? Your coup?”
“It waits. All of it.” Said Deborah. “Now is not the time. Not with…” She stopped short, unwilling to divulge any further details of her meeting with the Prince.
If Michael or Solomon either one was curious about the conclusion to her thought, they made no comment.
“And my plans? What of them?” Michael asked instead.
“It waits.” Repeated Deborah.
“Things are already in motion. She’s coming next week.”
“Then figure it out, Michael. You’re a smart boy. But you will make no move against Rebecca so long as Mathias’ anger is kindled against us.” Deborah glared hard at him. “You will get your chance. But it will be in the future. Not now.”
Michael ground his teeth together in aggravation. Without a word, he turned and left.
---
Tyler Bennett pulled his pick-up truck to a stop in front of the secluded A-frame house he called home. No one bothered him out here, tucked away in the woods as he was some ways off Route 11 between Salem and Shawsville.
As he stepped out of the truck, he reached back and pulled out a crossbow from the passenger seat, along with a quiver full of quarrels. Casual observers would note the oddity of these particular bolts having no metal arrowheads; each ended in a sharpened wooden point. His fellow werewolves might question the use of a weapon at all for the task before them. Tyler was no fool. His physical abilities were formidable, but these vampires were no cannon fodder. They would sell their lives dearly and it was always best to take out an enemy before he could reach you.
The night was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Tyler noted the stillness, and drew the bowstring taut. He placed one of the quarrels in place and moved towards the house cautiously. It would not be unexpected for the black prince of the vampires to make the first move. But he sensed no movement, only the ongoing stillness.
He opened the front door and stepped inside with some caution. His foot planted in something slippery and nearly went out from under him. In the dark, he could not see what it was, so he knelt closer and as he did so, the smell assaulted him. The smell of blood. The smell of death.
“Candice?” he asked nervously into the darkness. She wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. She was never to be around when the grim duties of his wolf blood called. But if they’d hurt her…
The darkness gave no answer. Tyler paused, fighting back the growing sense of panic within him. Was she here? Had they hurt her? He willed his body to morph, almost afraid to learn what his wolf senses would tell him.
The smells grew more pungent. The darkness gave way to the dim hazy vision of the beast. And Tyler had his answer. A slick of blood. A crumpled body on the floor. A head on the mantle.
He moved forward swiftly, unwilling to witness the desecration of her body even a second longer. He briefly felt the tripwire at his feet. He heard the twang of another crossbow, but it was too late. Two heavy bolts found their mark. Agony seared through his chest. Unlike his bolts, these had metal heads, and not just any metal.
The darkness seemed to coalesce and take human form. The prince’s lapdog. Tyler tried to lunge forward, but found his motion sluggish.
The Djinn laughed. “All too easy.” He said in a mocking tone. “If this is all the fight you dogs will put up, why does my master fear you so?”
“This is not the end.” Stuttered Tyler.
“For you, it is.” Replied The Djinn. “And your tribe will learn the dangers of crossing us.” The tulwar flashed in his hand and Tyler knew no more.
---
Michael walked inside his cabin to find a gathering of vampiric thralls, some his, some Deborah’s. He laughed to himself as he saw them huddled over the small table in his kitchen, playing Shadowrun. Regardless of all the grand affairs that went on in the background, some things never changed.
“Hey, Michael.” Greeted Boar. Michael looked him up and down briefly before acknowledging the greeting. Could it be that he really was a werewolf and not know it? Or was he the mage?
“You look like shit.” Commented Mitch.
“Apparently, the war has been cancelled.”
“That would seem a good thing.” Interjected Corwin.
“Peace was bought with a price apparently.” Replied Michael snidely. “It doesn’t matter.”
“So we’re still a go?” asked Corwin.
“Yes.” Said Michael defiantly. “We stick to the plan. I’m not waiting any longer. It’s far past time for Rebecca to learn the price of crossing me.”
Act Two Chapter Four
Deborah stood silent. In all the years she had lived under Mathias as her Prince, she had never seen him quite this angry. She was grateful that Solomon and Michael had both (on her advice) declined Mathias’ invitation to appear before him. Who knows what might have happened then?
“Don’t forget the mages, mi’lord.” Quipped Ernie. “They’re in this too.”
Ernie had told the Prince the same story he’d shared with Deborah and her allies the night before; the exact same story, no additional omissions or revelations.
“Yes,” said Mathias. “That makes things worse.” He glared hard at Deborah. “I should end your childe for this travesty.”
“Oh, don’t do that. He’s too much fun.” Added Ernie again.
Mathias looked askance at Ernie. Deborah read between the lines. Ernie was making an ultimatum. Would Mathias blink?
“Solomon is guilty also.” Interjected Andreas. “Should not the ancillae suffer the same fate?”
Deborah did not like where this was going. “My Prince,” she added hurriedly. “after the Djinn, Solomon and Michael are your two strongest fighters. If you offer them up as sacrificial lambs to the werewolves and this offering is rejected, who then will fight your war for you?”
“Oooh, good play.” Commented Ernie. “Although, it seems unfair to allow pretty little Deborah to get completely off the hook for her folly.”
“You have a suggestion?” queried Mathias.
“Kill the thralls. Particularly the two most likely candidates, Mitchell and Boorman.”
“Maybe Michael was right,” Deborah mused. The suggestion had not surprised her. In fact, she had a ready retort. “Blacksburg has seen much death lately. How long before someone starts asking questions?”
“That we can lay at your feet as well, dear Deborah.” Spat Mathias. “Another sin for which Michael goes unpunished.”
“He is young and impulsive, as are all kindred in their first years. Tell me. Have not Andreas and Sophia had to cover up their childer’s indiscretions as well? It seems Roanoke’s unsolved murder rate has gone up recently as well.” Deborah went on the attack. “Besides, my lord Prince, I somehow suspect that if the mages and the werewolves are after those two thralls of mine, then they’d hardly be happy to find them corpses on the morrow.”
Mathias glared at her with frustration and she knew she’d won. Mathias was boxed into a corner and everyone knew it. His only option was to fight.
“I will not have open war on my watch. Blood in the streets will call down too much scrutiny from mortal authorities, regardless of whether it is mortal, werewolf, or Kindred blood. Djinn!” He barked the last word loudly, although his bodyguard had been standing silently behind him the whole time.
The Djinn stepped forward. Mathias continued. “Chief Tyler needs to know who rules this city. Remind him. The rest of you, get out!”
Deborah departed quickly, wondering what price she might pay for her victory here tonight.
After the assembled kindred had left, the Djinn remained. “Mi’lord,” he said softly. “Might I ask a boon for this task. After all, Tyler is a seasoned warrior. He will not be easily defeated.”
Mathias gave him an incredulous look. “Not for you.”
The Djinn, realizing now he would not even get to make his proposal with Mathias in this mood, gave his sire a curt nod and then vanished into the shadows.
----
“So, how did it go?” queried Michael.
“There will be no war.” Said Deborah with frustration.
“I wasn’t aware that was up to us.” Interjected Solomon. “Or the Prince for that matter.”
“Chief Tyler dies tonight at the Djinn’s hand. That will end it. No war. No casualties. No vulnerability.”
“So what happens now?” asked Michael.
“We lay low and hope Mathias is prone to forget the events of these past few nights.”
“What about your plans? Your coup?”
“It waits. All of it.” Said Deborah. “Now is not the time. Not with…” She stopped short, unwilling to divulge any further details of her meeting with the Prince.
If Michael or Solomon either one was curious about the conclusion to her thought, they made no comment.
“And my plans? What of them?” Michael asked instead.
“It waits.” Repeated Deborah.
“Things are already in motion. She’s coming next week.”
“Then figure it out, Michael. You’re a smart boy. But you will make no move against Rebecca so long as Mathias’ anger is kindled against us.” Deborah glared hard at him. “You will get your chance. But it will be in the future. Not now.”
Michael ground his teeth together in aggravation. Without a word, he turned and left.
---
Tyler Bennett pulled his pick-up truck to a stop in front of the secluded A-frame house he called home. No one bothered him out here, tucked away in the woods as he was some ways off Route 11 between Salem and Shawsville.
As he stepped out of the truck, he reached back and pulled out a crossbow from the passenger seat, along with a quiver full of quarrels. Casual observers would note the oddity of these particular bolts having no metal arrowheads; each ended in a sharpened wooden point. His fellow werewolves might question the use of a weapon at all for the task before them. Tyler was no fool. His physical abilities were formidable, but these vampires were no cannon fodder. They would sell their lives dearly and it was always best to take out an enemy before he could reach you.
The night was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Tyler noted the stillness, and drew the bowstring taut. He placed one of the quarrels in place and moved towards the house cautiously. It would not be unexpected for the black prince of the vampires to make the first move. But he sensed no movement, only the ongoing stillness.
He opened the front door and stepped inside with some caution. His foot planted in something slippery and nearly went out from under him. In the dark, he could not see what it was, so he knelt closer and as he did so, the smell assaulted him. The smell of blood. The smell of death.
“Candice?” he asked nervously into the darkness. She wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. She was never to be around when the grim duties of his wolf blood called. But if they’d hurt her…
The darkness gave no answer. Tyler paused, fighting back the growing sense of panic within him. Was she here? Had they hurt her? He willed his body to morph, almost afraid to learn what his wolf senses would tell him.
The smells grew more pungent. The darkness gave way to the dim hazy vision of the beast. And Tyler had his answer. A slick of blood. A crumpled body on the floor. A head on the mantle.
He moved forward swiftly, unwilling to witness the desecration of her body even a second longer. He briefly felt the tripwire at his feet. He heard the twang of another crossbow, but it was too late. Two heavy bolts found their mark. Agony seared through his chest. Unlike his bolts, these had metal heads, and not just any metal.
The darkness seemed to coalesce and take human form. The prince’s lapdog. Tyler tried to lunge forward, but found his motion sluggish.
The Djinn laughed. “All too easy.” He said in a mocking tone. “If this is all the fight you dogs will put up, why does my master fear you so?”
“This is not the end.” Stuttered Tyler.
“For you, it is.” Replied The Djinn. “And your tribe will learn the dangers of crossing us.” The tulwar flashed in his hand and Tyler knew no more.
---
Michael walked inside his cabin to find a gathering of vampiric thralls, some his, some Deborah’s. He laughed to himself as he saw them huddled over the small table in his kitchen, playing Shadowrun. Regardless of all the grand affairs that went on in the background, some things never changed.
“Hey, Michael.” Greeted Boar. Michael looked him up and down briefly before acknowledging the greeting. Could it be that he really was a werewolf and not know it? Or was he the mage?
“You look like shit.” Commented Mitch.
“Apparently, the war has been cancelled.”
“That would seem a good thing.” Interjected Corwin.
“Peace was bought with a price apparently.” Replied Michael snidely. “It doesn’t matter.”
“So we’re still a go?” asked Corwin.
“Yes.” Said Michael defiantly. “We stick to the plan. I’m not waiting any longer. It’s far past time for Rebecca to learn the price of crossing me.”
Act Two Chapter Four
Monday, October 17, 2011
Act Two Chapter Two - Every Breath You Take
The nights passed but Michael’s mood remained sour. He felt trapped and confused. What was he? A monster or not? A beast to be feared or one utterly powerless? He found no answers within the confines of his mind.
Michael marched grimly down Tom’s Creek, heading for downtown. It was the walk he did nearly every night from his haven in the woods into town. Like it had been for the past several nights, it was done with an almost mechanical frustration, like a soldier off to do his duty with great reluctance. He no longer found much joy in the willing arms of whatever student he enraptured with his powers. But feed he must and this was the easiest way to do it.
He cut a quick turn down Price’s Fork towards Turner Street, coming up towards his old dorm in Thomas Hall. He cut across to the left side of the street, towards the old convenience mart that he’d frequented during his brief stint as a student, thinking he might see Mitch or Boar there. There were not, so Michael continued on.
As he cleared the parking lot, two hands grabbed him somewhat forcefully and flung him into the small copse of trees between the convenience mart and its neighboring house. Michael skidded across a patch of fallen leaves and was ready to leap back to his feet for a fight when he saw that his “attacker” was Deborah.
“What the…” he started to say angrily.
“Just shut up.” She snapped, cutting him off. “I’m sick of your bullshit lately.” She popped open his jeans and yanked them half down his thighs. He was about to continue his protest when she took him into her mouth. He hardened immediately and decided to keep silent.
She worked him with her mouth for several minutes and then climbed up and slid him inside her. By now, Michael was enraptured in pleasure, although confused about Deborah’s rather spontaneous and hurried seduction. Her touch was overwhelming and he climaxed hard, harder than he had in months.
“Maybe now, that’ll put you in a better mood.” She said, running her hand affectionately down his cheek.
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“I was, but not for the reasons you think.” She let out her breath in frustration. “Look, I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have been so blunt with you the other night.”
“You told the truth. I’m the one who couldn’t handle it.” Admitted Michael. “I still can’t.” His tone was despondent.
“Hush.” She said, putting her fingers across his lips. “I rushed you into the ugliest part of our existence and I shouldn’t have done that. The counter to what I told you is that our choices still matter. I should have made that clearer, but I figured you could reason that out on your own. That’s the secret of the cliché I told you.”
“Monsters we are, lest monsters we become.” Michael repeated.
“Yes. What monster will you choose to be to keep yourself from becoming the monster you do not wish to be.”
“Or are.”
Deborah nodded. “Yes. Or to keep yourself from being the monster you are. That’s what I wanted you to learn.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m alone and always will be.”
“Stop dwelling on that.” She said. “You’re not alone now. You’re with me.”
“A lie.”
“Is it?” she replied.
Michael looked at her keenly. “You're trying to backpedal on a truth you should not have revealed so soon. Little point in closing the barn door once the horses are gone.”
“Perhaps, but our choices still matter.” She took his hand and gave him an affectionate nibble along his palm. “Right now, I choose to be with you. If what we have now is a lie, then it is one I choose to believe. You can too.”
“Tempting, but ultimately empty.” said Michael.
“Pretending is sometimes all that keeps the ennui of the long years away.” She paused. “It's not the only way, but it works from time to time.”
“What are some of the others?”
“The Danse.” she said. "The ongoing struggle for power and prestige. To overcome our enemies.”
“Like you're trying to do with me and Ernie and Solomon against this unnamed foe. Building alliances. Purchasing weapons. Garnering favor.”
“Destroying your enemies provides a good distraction. Once you have some, that is.”
“I have one.” he said.
“Ah, yes. That mortal girl who broke your heart. Rebecca, I believe was her name.”
“Yeah.” Said Michael weakly. “You know, the more I think about it, the less what she did bothers me. After all, I have any woman I want now. I have you and Kris and anyone else I choose to turn my charms upon. Not entirely sure she really qualifies as an enemy anymore.”
“Oh, please.” said Deborah incredulously, almost mockingly. “You honestly think I’d believe that after all you’ve done.”
“All I’ve done?” There was confusion in his voice.
“Have you forgotten what you did, the day she left you?” Her voice was teasing, playful even. “The way you lost your virginity that night. Not exactly the stuff of romantic daydreams. If I’d been anything but Kindred, you’d have split me in two. Don’t tell me that fire has gone out. It’s a lie and you know it. Our dead frat boy is proof. Why did he die? Why did you kill him?”
She let the question hang, but didn’t expect an answer. Michael did not provide one.
“There is the truth and then there are the lies we desperately want to believe. Tell me or yourself or anyone what you chose, but there’s no denying that your anger drives you, Michael. Your fury at the world around you. Your rage at losing what could have been.”
“You said yourself that path would be denied to me under any circumstance. I was, even before my embrace, a monster.”
“And is that fair? Imagine even a little grace on her part. Then what? She could have overlooked those flaws in your character. Instead, she held them against you and used them as rationale for her betrayal. Are you really going to leave her unpunished for that?”
“Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”
“In truth, because your anger is becoming a liability.” she said frankly. “You're no good to me dead and too many more dead frat boys will force Mathias' hand against you. And since you are still my childe, it will move against me as well. Better to give you the means to resolve your frustrations rather than have you try to rationalize them away as you've been doing. The simple truth is, Michael, it's not working and there's a moldering corpse in the Blacksburg morgue to prove it.”
The two of them looked in each others eyes for a long moment. “I know what you want. I know what you fear.” Said Deborah. “But what you did the other night is not the way to go about it. Master your anger and you will discover true power. Channel it into a goal, a purpose. Randomly killing any jerk who ticks you off only makes you an animal, a mindless beast. Meticulously destroying a hated enemy, bit by bit, that makes you Kindred. My question to you, which will you choose to be?”
“I am a vampire.”
“Then act like one. Bring Rebecca here and prove it.”
-----
“Alright, you've seen exhibition shooters before, right?” asked Solomon, scooping up about a half dozen clay pigeons from a box.
“On TV a few times.” said Michael. His training had progressed beyond melee weapons and hand-to-hand techniques into firearms. Thus, they had come to a secluded clearing within Jefferson National Forest, somewhere off I-81 between Roanoke and Blacksburg. There, Solomon had pulled out a variety of guns: rifles, shotguns, and pistols. Plus a few blades in case they decided to spar a bit before finishing.
“This is one of their tricks.” Continued Solomon. “For a human, this is a very difficult shot. With your vampire reflexes and senses, you should be able to pull this off without too much trouble.” He tossed the pigeons skyward, then fast as lightning, brought the shotgun in his other hand to his shoulder, fired off six shots, and hit all six pigeons before they hit the ground.
Michael stood their dumbfounded. Solomon smiled at Michael's look. He reloaded the shotgun. “We'll start you easy. Semi-automatic shotgun with birdshot. With practice, you'll be able to do this with pump shotgun, then slugs, then rifle and pistol. And if you can pull off this trick, shooting at live targets will be a piece of cake.”
He tossed the shotgun to Michael. “Two rules for fighting with a gun when you're Kindred. The first is to take your time. With your reflexes and senses, you can afford a bit of hesitation to set up your shot. Remember that in order to do this trick.”
“And the second?”
“Bullets don't really hurt, so if your enemies are shooting back at you, there's little need to flinch or duck or let that rattle you. No need to rush things to get a shot off before they do. Odds are good you'll do that anyway, but even still...unless they're using a mini-gun like the guy in that Predator movie, there's nothing to fear in their firing back at you. Now, let's try the trick shot.”
“Ok.” said Michael hesitantly. He scooped up the pigeons, tossed them in the air. He brought the gun to his shoulder with the same fluid motion as Solomon had. He fired. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! He got four of the six before they hit the ground.
“Not bad.” said Solomon. “Told you it wasn't that hard. Humans practice that trick for years before mastering it. And yet, on your first shot, you took down two-thirds of the pigeons. Reload and try again.”
It wasn't five minutes before Michael had mastered the trick. Then, as promised, he moved up to the pump shotgun. Now he had to pump each round out of the chamber between shots. That proved a more difficult challenge. It took Michael nearly an hour to get that one down.
“Alright, we've squeezed off enough rounds for one night.” said Solomon, starting to put away the guns, ammo, and what few clay pigeons he had left. “We'll spar for a little while with the swords.”
“You missed a box.” said Michael, picking up a stray box of ammo, .44 magnum pistol rounds to be precise.
“That one stays out.” corrected Solomon. He drew his Ruger Blackhawk revolver from his belt and opened the cylinder. “Check them out.” he said, as he dropped the loaded rounds from the cylinder.
Michael drew the bullets out of the box and immediately noticed their unusual color. “Those aren't standard rounds.”
“No, they're not. They're a precaution. We're out in the woods and there are certain things out here that might see our practice as encroachment on their territory.”
Michael put two-and-two together. “Silver bullets.” he said.
Solomon nodded. “Bane of werewolves everywhere.” He started slotting six new silver bullets into his pistol. 'I should have done this when we got here. I let myself get distracted.”
“Are they common?”
“Werewolves? No supernatural being can be considered common on this earth, but they are around here. Prince Mathias has had his dealings with them. Deals made. Favors traded. Treaties signed. The forest is theirs. And while our presence here will likely go unnoticed, it never hurts to be prepared.”
Michael felt both a sense of excitement and a sense of fear at the possibility of an encounter with a skinchanger. He picked up a sword, and gave it his characteristic twirl.
“I keep telling you not to handle your weapon that way.” said Solomon. “This isn't Hollywood.”
“It hasn't hurt my chances against you.” said Michael with a bit of bravado. “I'm up to 50/50 against you.”
Which was true. “Then, I suppose I will have to alter that ratio a bit tonight. Get it back where it belongs.” Solomon lunged with a powerful thrust, one Michael just barely parried.
They went back and forth, slashing, thrusting, parrying blows. Michael's skills had improved considerably and Solomon found beating him, while certainly still possible, was far more difficult than it used to be.
After a match that left the two of them battered and bruised as always, Solomon turned to Michael. “Alright, it’s time you at least got the book lesson on decapitation. Obviously, this is something we can’t practice, so you’ll have to try to apply what I tell you to the real world on your own. Again, forget all the Hollywood stuff you’ve learned. Taking a man’s head is not easy, not even for the sharpest of blades. It’s a matter of historical record that even Madame Guillotine often took multiple hits to end the lives of the French nobility. And that was against a stationary target.”
Solomon pulled out a katana. “For lighter blades, one of these is probably your best bet. Or you could go the route of our friend, The Djinn, and use a heavy blade. He carries a tulwar, but a machete or any other large hacking blade will do. The first trick is to hit the neck, not always easy on a moving and dodging target. The second is to get through the vertebrae, which are thicker and denser bones than just about any other.”
“So they neither break nor cut easily.”
“No, the bones of the arm or leg are either thin enough to be cut or brittle enough to shatter under the blow of a sword. The bones in the neck will not give so easily. Now, mind you, a strike to the neck by any sword, even if it doesn’t decapitate, will likely kill a normal human. There’s way too many vital things in there that they cannot survive without. A vampire or skinchanger on the other hand can survive such a strike; the vampire because all those vital things aren’t vital anymore and the werewolf because they can heal the wound so fast it’s like they weren’t even hurt.”
“So aim true and swing hard or it’s my funeral.”
“Basically. Now, let’s go again.” Solomon switched back to his other sword and came at Michael hard. Thrust, parry, slash, and Solomon found he had gained the initiative against Michael. First time tonight and now he was doing to take advantage. He pressed his attack. Michael stumbled on a tree root and Solomon was about to deliver a faux coup de grace to end the skirmish when he stopped mid-stroke.
“I hear it too.” said Michael, coming to his feet. “We’re not alone.”
Two burly men emerged from the woods into the clearing. They looked to the casual observer to be nothing more than typical western Virginia rednecks, but there was a feral look in their eyes that said to Michael he'd just gotten his earlier wish about meeting some of the other denizens of the night.
“Evening, gents.” said Solomon.
“You're intruding, bloodsucker.” The tone was unmistakably hostile.
“We were just leaving.” Solomon gave Michael a telling look, but said nothing else.
“You come on our land. You become fair game.” With that, the man growled out a noise no human should be able to make. His skin seemed to ripple and morph, and within seconds where a man once stood there was the largest wolf Michael had ever seen.
His companion also began to shift, taking on the form of a giant man-wolf, nearly 9 feet tall. And for the first time since his turning, Michael felt fear.
Beside him, he saw Solomon tense up, ready for battle. His fingernails lengthened as he consciously used one his vampiric powers. Michael, absentmindedly, twirled his sword.
The two vampires faced off with the two werewolves. And then, in a split second, everything exploded into violence.
Michael couldn't remember who “blinked” first, but he did remember the man-wolf charging towards him. But Solomon tackled the giant and knocked him aside. Michael lunged forward but was taken off his feet by the wolf. He brought his foot up and landed a solid kick in the gut of the werewolf, launching it over his head.
Michael came back to his feet as the wolf leaped again. This time, Michael was ready. He dropped backwards, and brought his sword up with a powerful thrust. Just as the wolf reached him, his sword pierced flesh. He gave the sword a hard yank to the left and felt it cut through. He dashed to his feet to see the wolf at his feet, half decapitated and yet still moving.
“Solomon was right. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.” Thought Michael, swinging his sword around in a long arc. Before his very eyes, he could see the savage wound on the werewolf’s neck closing again, but it did not finish before Michael’s blow connected with the side of its neck and cleaved through to what remained of it. The wolf’s head came loose and bounced on the ground at Michael’s feet.
One down. One to go. Michael turned to see Solomon sorely pressed by the giant man-wolf thing the second skinchanger had transformed into. With his vampire claws, Solomon had given the werewolf a number of nasty scratches across its belly and chest. Despite the ugliness of those wounds, the werewolf was not stopping.
Michael charged forward and sank his sword deep into the man-wolf’s side. It howled in shock and pain, and then gave Michael a solid backhand which sent him flying. Michael landed hard on his upper back and then tumbled over to land flat on his belly. Although he’d sustained numerous injuries in his sparring bouts with Solomon, this blow hurt worse than all of them combined. How hard did the werewolf hit him?
Despite the injury, he knew he couldn’t leave Solomon to face the monster alone. He popped to his feet and went looking for his sword. It was at that point that the second werewolf determined enough was enough. His companion dead and now facing two well-equipped and well-trained vampires, he decided discretion was the better part of valor. With a mighty leap, he bounded over Solomon’s head, shifted into the form of a normal sized wolf, and dashed off into the night.
“Are you alright?” Michael asked of Solomon.
“I’ve been better, but I’ll live. What happened to the second?”
Michael gestured to the body of the werewolf he’d killed. It had shifted back to human form and was now a naked decapitated man on the forest floor.
“Fuck me. You took down a skinchanger?”
Michael shrugged. “What choice did I have?”
“We should have lost that fight. Vampires are usually well outmatched by werewolves. And yet, there’s hardly a scratch on either one of us.”
“Guess they fucked with the wrong pair of vampires.”
“Guess so.” Said Solomon. “Damn, you even took his head like I taught you.”
“Luck helped.”
“I’ll take it.” A loud howl pierced through the night. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back with more friends.”
-----
“War!” screamed the youth. He was no more than 17, but carried with him all the energy and impulsivity of his age. “They dare come onto our land and slay one of our own.” He was one of several, perhaps a dozen, individuals encircling a large bonfire deep within the forest. They came from all walks of life. Some were clearly rural, wearing the dusty clothing of farm workers or forest residents. A handful were dressed more sharply, marking them as urban folk, a mix from Blacksburg, Roanoke, and Christiansburg.
“The vampires grow stronger.” Said another. “They have created at least three more of their kind in the last twelve months. They have spread their filth into Blacksburg and now encroach upon our forests and wilds. The young one is right, we must retaliate! Before it is too late.”
“And die under the fangs of the ancient one.” Retorted a third. “You forget they are ruled by one who has seen uncounted nights, whose bodyguard walked the earth when the tales of Robin Hood and King Arthur were first being written.”
“Your fear is misplaced.” Said the leader, a venerable but still vigorous werewolf named Tyler. “With our strength combined, we are a match for any of them, even their decrepit misshapen prince.”
“A man is coming.” Said the woman at the chief’s side. As if on cue, there was a flash and within the circle stood Professor Nolan Baranski.
“You mock our sacred ways by your presence, mage.” Snarled Tyler. “You are not welcome here.”
“You don’t exactly keep appointments with wizards, great chief. Thus, I must disturb you at odd times. Normally, I would respect your people’s ways, but the urgency of this matter necessitated a more direct approach. This is a war moot and you need what I offer to make its decisions wisely.”
“You have nothing we want.” Retorted Chief Tyler. “And I should gut you for daring to intrude on this hallowed ground.”
“Do you really want to test what I’m capable of?”
“You couldn’t stop us all, Doctor.” Said the youth.
“Perhaps not, but I can assure you that your belligerent plans against our common neighbors will be far more difficult if you try anything. Who wants to lay bets on how many of you I can roast in your own juices before you cut me down?”
“Enough!” barked Tyler. “We know your ways, and your power. What do you offer?”
“An exchange, of sorts. Call it a token of good will between our peoples.”
“An exchange of what?”
“Information and mutual assistance. Within the circle of the vampires in Blacksburg travel seemingly normal mortals. Thralls they call them. But one of them, as I’m sure you know, is a cub, an unblooded werewolf, ignorant of his heritage and true potential. He is not alone. There is another, a friend of his, who has shown the potential to be one of our kind.”
“They are vampiric thralls.” Spat Tyler with a sense of disgust. “Tainted and worthless. They are bound slaves to their vampire master and useless to us and to you.”
“We both know that when they awaken to their true selves the bond of blood will break. You may be willing to discard one of your own, but I am not. Your war plans endanger our own fledgling.”
“What matter is that to us?”
“Do you really want to battle on two fronts? Against the vampires and the magi? Besides, I wonder if all of your pack shares your disdain for this unblooded cub. He’s an innocent, or worse, a victim of their treacheries. Will you not rescue him?”
“Mind your courtesies, mage.” Snarled Tyler. “You are not welcome here and you are certainly not allowed to question my judgment in these matters. I lead this pack, not you. He is a vampire’s plaything and he is condemned for that reason. Let him die with his masters.”
“Bravado robs you of logic, Chief Tyler. If you can kill his masters, you can rescue him. Surely, he’s not beyond redemption.” Nolan looked about and could see the assembled werewolves in the circle mumble among themselves. “Stay your hand, mighty chief, and we will work with you to ensure that both your cub and our fledgling mage are safely rescued from those who would enslave them. Do not continue on this violent course, both for you pack and for the younglings you would so callously sacrifice.”
“You go too far, wizard. I forgave your first attempt to question my leadership, but my grace has limits. You dare to try to plant seeds of dissension within my pack and at a moot of my calling!” Tyler jumped to his feet and immediately began to morph into a massive man-wolf.
Baranski was ready. As Tyler leaped forward in what would be a massive tackle, the mage simply vanished.
He reappeared on a hillside about a half-mile away, next to his waiting apprentice, Darren.
“They sound mad.” Observed Darren. The howls in the distance were loud and furious.
“Their chief should be. I deliberately embarrassed him before his pack. And werewolves tend not to be the forgiving sort.” Said Baranski.
“What did you hope to accomplish by this?”
“Tyler is a bitter old bigot. His hatred of the vampires blinds him and makes him willing to sacrifice his own needlessly. Hopefully, his own have now seen that clearly. With luck, one of his subordinates will now challenge him for leadership. Undoubtedly, at least one of the others now questions whether it is right and just to simply abandon one of their own because a vampire has forced their way into his life.”
“And how does that help us?”
“Oh, a lot of different ways. A more open-minded chief will probably be more amenable to diplomatic relations with our kind, but regarding our immediate concern, he will be far less likely to go in 'guns blazing' as it were.”
“And if Tyler overcomes their challenge?”
“The distraction will keep him occupied for a while. Long enough, I hope, to figure out a way to get our boy out before the wolves slaughter him in an orgy of blood. Besides, if I know anything about vampires, there's an orgy of blood coming the tribe's way anyway.”
-----
Deborah paced back and forth somewhat nervously. “This is disturbing to put it mildly.”
Ernie nodded. “Yep, the puppies and the wizards together. It didn't look like they were too happy, but they were talking.”
“How do you know all this?” challenged Michael.
“I saw them.” replied Ernie. His tone changed, becoming more formal. He'd switched personalities mid-stream again, responding to Michael’s mistrust.
“How?”
“I thought it wise to learn their plans after the skirmish the other night. So I crept up on their ritual circle under the cover of shadow and listened in.” Ernie looked angry, defensive. “Something I would not have need to do if you hadn't slaughtered one of them.”
“We didn't have a whole lot of choice.” said Solomon, defending Michael.
“And then there's your part in this, Solomon.” said Ernie, his voice like ice. “Nowhere else in all our territory for you to take him for your belligerent exercises than land belonging to one of our most dangerous enemies?”
“I don't need to apologize to you for my training techniques. Mortal police tend to frown upon discharging firearms within city limits. Explain how I’d keep the Masquerade safe doing that?”
“Enough.” barked Deborah. “I'm content to take Ernie's report at face value. But why the mages? The werewolves don't get along any better with them than they do us. And this isn't their fight anyway.”
Ernie shrugged innocently. “Something about a cub.”
“A young werewolf is still no concern of the mages.”
“This cub has a friend: A wizard fledgling.”
“An unawakened mage and a cub werewolf together?”
“And both of them, thralls to a vampire. One of us.”
“Cause for war.” said Solomon. “Above and beyond what we did the other night.”
“Who are they?” asked Ernie. “Who's the cub and the baby wizard? Whose thralls are they?” He glowered at Deborah, expecting an answer.
“You don't know?” said Michael.
“They didn't confide that much openly. I got the sense I was the only one there who did not know who they were talking about.”
“Regardless, hell is coming.” said Solomon. “War with the werewolves will be unpleasant.”
“And worse if the mages ally with them.” Added Ernie. “You need to cut these thralls loose. Eliminate the reason for the conflict.”
“You presume they’re mine?” said Deborah. “Michael has his, as do you. Without knowing who they are talking about, how are we to proceed? No, I say we let them bring their war.”
“What?” exclaimed Solomon.
“It's an opportunity.” said Deborah. “The Prince will be distracted and we can make our move. There will never be a better time.”
“Fear of Mathias is one of the few things that keeps the werewolf threat in check.” argued Ernie. “They'll move to overrun us if we take him down now.”
“So he is the enemy.” said Michael; His answer had come at last.
“Yes, you've learned everything you need to face him and his allies.” said Deborah. “We had planned to bring you up to speed tonight anyway, but Ernie's news complicates things.”
“This is not the time for rash action.” interjected Ernie fiercely. “Rashness is what has brought this upon us in the first place. Unvetted thralls, a dead werewolf, and now you want to move against the Prince immediately. No, there are too many variables. I'll have no part in this.” With that, he marched out of the apartment.
“He may be right.” observed Solomon. “This is delicate situation and I'd be more inclined to side with the Prince when a werewolf war looms. Killing him now leaves us all vulnerable.”
“Maybe that’s what Ernie wants. He’s not telling the whole story.” observed Michael.
Deborah looked at him keenly. “Why do you say that?”
“He can read minds. And if those werewolves and mages had no cause to think they were being observed, I presume he could loot their brains at his leisure. And yet he didn't. Why not? I doubt they could innately resist his powers. For one, Ernie is nearly a thousand years old as best we can guess. His power should be far beyond what those werewolves and mages could resist. And yet, he tells us nothing of what he read in their thoughts.”
“You don't trust him.” said Deborah.
“No, I don’t. There's something fishy about all this. Sure, I can imagine the werewolves being angry at the killing of one of their own. But to have them and the mages stalking us because we've enthralled one of each is a stretch. And let's be honest. We know exactly who the prime candidates are: Mitch and Boar. Ernie probably knows of your discovery of Boar’s odd blood and Mitch’s uncanny luck and has woven a story that fits those facts.”
“So you think the whole thing's a lie? The whole story just made up?” said Solomon.
“It could be. The question is why.” said Michael. “And I think I know that too.”
Deborah gave him a quizzical look. Michael continued. “I don't know if you've noticed but Ernie shows an almost unhealthy interest in me personally. He hovers a little too close, is always excited to see me. And when Kris and I visited his 'church' last Christmas he essentially propositioned me. And has done so since. I've been dismissing all this as pieces of his crazy personality but maybe there's a method to the madness. Maybe Ernie wants me for himself. Isolating me from the two people I know who bridge between my life before and my life now would only benefit that.”
“Perhaps,” said Deborah, “I’ve certainly noticed his interest in you, but like you I’ve not given it too much heed. After all, any guesses as to what he’s up to are probably moot. Who are we to try to figure out the mind of a thousand year old lunatic?”
Solomon shrugged. “It's as plausible as anything else, I suppose. Regardless, Michael is right about one thing. Ernie did not tell us the whole story. There’s no reason he wouldn’t know the minds of those he was spying on. And he did not tell us.”
“Mark one in the ‘Lying through his teeth’ column.” Said Michael confidently.
“You’re learning how the game is played.” Complimented Deborah. “Still, Ernie’s known for his theatrics and few of us volunteer information of this sort for free. That he told us anything is probably a mark in the ‘May be the truth’ column. He told us this without extracting a favor; Ernie probably thinks this information too important not to be shared.”
“But he did not disclose all of it.” Michael wasn’t sure now if this wasn’t another exercise. To see if he could discern the truth of the matter.
“No, but perhaps he didn’t have to. It didn’t take you long to discern who our most likely mage-and-werewolf pair are. It may be a lie, as you say, but it’s a good one because it does fit the facts. Fits well enough to be the truth.”
“All this is academic.” Said Michael impatiently. “What are we going to do now? Challenge Mathias or stand by his side against the werewolf onslaught? Do we hold fast to Boar and Mitch or cut them loose somehow?”
“All good questions.” Interjected Solomon. “It may be theatrics, but I think we have to presume that we've lost Ernie's support for the time being. It would be unwise to move against Mathias without him. And since we don’t know if the threat of war is real or not, it would probably be good to take a wait and see attitude. Odds are good the werewolves will make a move against us soon enough. They’re not exactly known for subtlety. Or patience.”
“If they do,” added Deborah, “We’d better hope there's a deity up there who's favorable to vampires.”
Act Two Chapter Three
Michael marched grimly down Tom’s Creek, heading for downtown. It was the walk he did nearly every night from his haven in the woods into town. Like it had been for the past several nights, it was done with an almost mechanical frustration, like a soldier off to do his duty with great reluctance. He no longer found much joy in the willing arms of whatever student he enraptured with his powers. But feed he must and this was the easiest way to do it.
He cut a quick turn down Price’s Fork towards Turner Street, coming up towards his old dorm in Thomas Hall. He cut across to the left side of the street, towards the old convenience mart that he’d frequented during his brief stint as a student, thinking he might see Mitch or Boar there. There were not, so Michael continued on.
As he cleared the parking lot, two hands grabbed him somewhat forcefully and flung him into the small copse of trees between the convenience mart and its neighboring house. Michael skidded across a patch of fallen leaves and was ready to leap back to his feet for a fight when he saw that his “attacker” was Deborah.
“What the…” he started to say angrily.
“Just shut up.” She snapped, cutting him off. “I’m sick of your bullshit lately.” She popped open his jeans and yanked them half down his thighs. He was about to continue his protest when she took him into her mouth. He hardened immediately and decided to keep silent.
She worked him with her mouth for several minutes and then climbed up and slid him inside her. By now, Michael was enraptured in pleasure, although confused about Deborah’s rather spontaneous and hurried seduction. Her touch was overwhelming and he climaxed hard, harder than he had in months.
“Maybe now, that’ll put you in a better mood.” She said, running her hand affectionately down his cheek.
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“I was, but not for the reasons you think.” She let out her breath in frustration. “Look, I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have been so blunt with you the other night.”
“You told the truth. I’m the one who couldn’t handle it.” Admitted Michael. “I still can’t.” His tone was despondent.
“Hush.” She said, putting her fingers across his lips. “I rushed you into the ugliest part of our existence and I shouldn’t have done that. The counter to what I told you is that our choices still matter. I should have made that clearer, but I figured you could reason that out on your own. That’s the secret of the cliché I told you.”
“Monsters we are, lest monsters we become.” Michael repeated.
“Yes. What monster will you choose to be to keep yourself from becoming the monster you do not wish to be.”
“Or are.”
Deborah nodded. “Yes. Or to keep yourself from being the monster you are. That’s what I wanted you to learn.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m alone and always will be.”
“Stop dwelling on that.” She said. “You’re not alone now. You’re with me.”
“A lie.”
“Is it?” she replied.
Michael looked at her keenly. “You're trying to backpedal on a truth you should not have revealed so soon. Little point in closing the barn door once the horses are gone.”
“Perhaps, but our choices still matter.” She took his hand and gave him an affectionate nibble along his palm. “Right now, I choose to be with you. If what we have now is a lie, then it is one I choose to believe. You can too.”
“Tempting, but ultimately empty.” said Michael.
“Pretending is sometimes all that keeps the ennui of the long years away.” She paused. “It's not the only way, but it works from time to time.”
“What are some of the others?”
“The Danse.” she said. "The ongoing struggle for power and prestige. To overcome our enemies.”
“Like you're trying to do with me and Ernie and Solomon against this unnamed foe. Building alliances. Purchasing weapons. Garnering favor.”
“Destroying your enemies provides a good distraction. Once you have some, that is.”
“I have one.” he said.
“Ah, yes. That mortal girl who broke your heart. Rebecca, I believe was her name.”
“Yeah.” Said Michael weakly. “You know, the more I think about it, the less what she did bothers me. After all, I have any woman I want now. I have you and Kris and anyone else I choose to turn my charms upon. Not entirely sure she really qualifies as an enemy anymore.”
“Oh, please.” said Deborah incredulously, almost mockingly. “You honestly think I’d believe that after all you’ve done.”
“All I’ve done?” There was confusion in his voice.
“Have you forgotten what you did, the day she left you?” Her voice was teasing, playful even. “The way you lost your virginity that night. Not exactly the stuff of romantic daydreams. If I’d been anything but Kindred, you’d have split me in two. Don’t tell me that fire has gone out. It’s a lie and you know it. Our dead frat boy is proof. Why did he die? Why did you kill him?”
She let the question hang, but didn’t expect an answer. Michael did not provide one.
“There is the truth and then there are the lies we desperately want to believe. Tell me or yourself or anyone what you chose, but there’s no denying that your anger drives you, Michael. Your fury at the world around you. Your rage at losing what could have been.”
“You said yourself that path would be denied to me under any circumstance. I was, even before my embrace, a monster.”
“And is that fair? Imagine even a little grace on her part. Then what? She could have overlooked those flaws in your character. Instead, she held them against you and used them as rationale for her betrayal. Are you really going to leave her unpunished for that?”
“Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”
“In truth, because your anger is becoming a liability.” she said frankly. “You're no good to me dead and too many more dead frat boys will force Mathias' hand against you. And since you are still my childe, it will move against me as well. Better to give you the means to resolve your frustrations rather than have you try to rationalize them away as you've been doing. The simple truth is, Michael, it's not working and there's a moldering corpse in the Blacksburg morgue to prove it.”
The two of them looked in each others eyes for a long moment. “I know what you want. I know what you fear.” Said Deborah. “But what you did the other night is not the way to go about it. Master your anger and you will discover true power. Channel it into a goal, a purpose. Randomly killing any jerk who ticks you off only makes you an animal, a mindless beast. Meticulously destroying a hated enemy, bit by bit, that makes you Kindred. My question to you, which will you choose to be?”
“I am a vampire.”
“Then act like one. Bring Rebecca here and prove it.”
-----
“Alright, you've seen exhibition shooters before, right?” asked Solomon, scooping up about a half dozen clay pigeons from a box.
“On TV a few times.” said Michael. His training had progressed beyond melee weapons and hand-to-hand techniques into firearms. Thus, they had come to a secluded clearing within Jefferson National Forest, somewhere off I-81 between Roanoke and Blacksburg. There, Solomon had pulled out a variety of guns: rifles, shotguns, and pistols. Plus a few blades in case they decided to spar a bit before finishing.
“This is one of their tricks.” Continued Solomon. “For a human, this is a very difficult shot. With your vampire reflexes and senses, you should be able to pull this off without too much trouble.” He tossed the pigeons skyward, then fast as lightning, brought the shotgun in his other hand to his shoulder, fired off six shots, and hit all six pigeons before they hit the ground.
Michael stood their dumbfounded. Solomon smiled at Michael's look. He reloaded the shotgun. “We'll start you easy. Semi-automatic shotgun with birdshot. With practice, you'll be able to do this with pump shotgun, then slugs, then rifle and pistol. And if you can pull off this trick, shooting at live targets will be a piece of cake.”
He tossed the shotgun to Michael. “Two rules for fighting with a gun when you're Kindred. The first is to take your time. With your reflexes and senses, you can afford a bit of hesitation to set up your shot. Remember that in order to do this trick.”
“And the second?”
“Bullets don't really hurt, so if your enemies are shooting back at you, there's little need to flinch or duck or let that rattle you. No need to rush things to get a shot off before they do. Odds are good you'll do that anyway, but even still...unless they're using a mini-gun like the guy in that Predator movie, there's nothing to fear in their firing back at you. Now, let's try the trick shot.”
“Ok.” said Michael hesitantly. He scooped up the pigeons, tossed them in the air. He brought the gun to his shoulder with the same fluid motion as Solomon had. He fired. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! He got four of the six before they hit the ground.
“Not bad.” said Solomon. “Told you it wasn't that hard. Humans practice that trick for years before mastering it. And yet, on your first shot, you took down two-thirds of the pigeons. Reload and try again.”
It wasn't five minutes before Michael had mastered the trick. Then, as promised, he moved up to the pump shotgun. Now he had to pump each round out of the chamber between shots. That proved a more difficult challenge. It took Michael nearly an hour to get that one down.
“Alright, we've squeezed off enough rounds for one night.” said Solomon, starting to put away the guns, ammo, and what few clay pigeons he had left. “We'll spar for a little while with the swords.”
“You missed a box.” said Michael, picking up a stray box of ammo, .44 magnum pistol rounds to be precise.
“That one stays out.” corrected Solomon. He drew his Ruger Blackhawk revolver from his belt and opened the cylinder. “Check them out.” he said, as he dropped the loaded rounds from the cylinder.
Michael drew the bullets out of the box and immediately noticed their unusual color. “Those aren't standard rounds.”
“No, they're not. They're a precaution. We're out in the woods and there are certain things out here that might see our practice as encroachment on their territory.”
Michael put two-and-two together. “Silver bullets.” he said.
Solomon nodded. “Bane of werewolves everywhere.” He started slotting six new silver bullets into his pistol. 'I should have done this when we got here. I let myself get distracted.”
“Are they common?”
“Werewolves? No supernatural being can be considered common on this earth, but they are around here. Prince Mathias has had his dealings with them. Deals made. Favors traded. Treaties signed. The forest is theirs. And while our presence here will likely go unnoticed, it never hurts to be prepared.”
Michael felt both a sense of excitement and a sense of fear at the possibility of an encounter with a skinchanger. He picked up a sword, and gave it his characteristic twirl.
“I keep telling you not to handle your weapon that way.” said Solomon. “This isn't Hollywood.”
“It hasn't hurt my chances against you.” said Michael with a bit of bravado. “I'm up to 50/50 against you.”
Which was true. “Then, I suppose I will have to alter that ratio a bit tonight. Get it back where it belongs.” Solomon lunged with a powerful thrust, one Michael just barely parried.
They went back and forth, slashing, thrusting, parrying blows. Michael's skills had improved considerably and Solomon found beating him, while certainly still possible, was far more difficult than it used to be.
After a match that left the two of them battered and bruised as always, Solomon turned to Michael. “Alright, it’s time you at least got the book lesson on decapitation. Obviously, this is something we can’t practice, so you’ll have to try to apply what I tell you to the real world on your own. Again, forget all the Hollywood stuff you’ve learned. Taking a man’s head is not easy, not even for the sharpest of blades. It’s a matter of historical record that even Madame Guillotine often took multiple hits to end the lives of the French nobility. And that was against a stationary target.”
Solomon pulled out a katana. “For lighter blades, one of these is probably your best bet. Or you could go the route of our friend, The Djinn, and use a heavy blade. He carries a tulwar, but a machete or any other large hacking blade will do. The first trick is to hit the neck, not always easy on a moving and dodging target. The second is to get through the vertebrae, which are thicker and denser bones than just about any other.”
“So they neither break nor cut easily.”
“No, the bones of the arm or leg are either thin enough to be cut or brittle enough to shatter under the blow of a sword. The bones in the neck will not give so easily. Now, mind you, a strike to the neck by any sword, even if it doesn’t decapitate, will likely kill a normal human. There’s way too many vital things in there that they cannot survive without. A vampire or skinchanger on the other hand can survive such a strike; the vampire because all those vital things aren’t vital anymore and the werewolf because they can heal the wound so fast it’s like they weren’t even hurt.”
“So aim true and swing hard or it’s my funeral.”
“Basically. Now, let’s go again.” Solomon switched back to his other sword and came at Michael hard. Thrust, parry, slash, and Solomon found he had gained the initiative against Michael. First time tonight and now he was doing to take advantage. He pressed his attack. Michael stumbled on a tree root and Solomon was about to deliver a faux coup de grace to end the skirmish when he stopped mid-stroke.
“I hear it too.” said Michael, coming to his feet. “We’re not alone.”
Two burly men emerged from the woods into the clearing. They looked to the casual observer to be nothing more than typical western Virginia rednecks, but there was a feral look in their eyes that said to Michael he'd just gotten his earlier wish about meeting some of the other denizens of the night.
“Evening, gents.” said Solomon.
“You're intruding, bloodsucker.” The tone was unmistakably hostile.
“We were just leaving.” Solomon gave Michael a telling look, but said nothing else.
“You come on our land. You become fair game.” With that, the man growled out a noise no human should be able to make. His skin seemed to ripple and morph, and within seconds where a man once stood there was the largest wolf Michael had ever seen.
His companion also began to shift, taking on the form of a giant man-wolf, nearly 9 feet tall. And for the first time since his turning, Michael felt fear.
Beside him, he saw Solomon tense up, ready for battle. His fingernails lengthened as he consciously used one his vampiric powers. Michael, absentmindedly, twirled his sword.
The two vampires faced off with the two werewolves. And then, in a split second, everything exploded into violence.
Michael couldn't remember who “blinked” first, but he did remember the man-wolf charging towards him. But Solomon tackled the giant and knocked him aside. Michael lunged forward but was taken off his feet by the wolf. He brought his foot up and landed a solid kick in the gut of the werewolf, launching it over his head.
Michael came back to his feet as the wolf leaped again. This time, Michael was ready. He dropped backwards, and brought his sword up with a powerful thrust. Just as the wolf reached him, his sword pierced flesh. He gave the sword a hard yank to the left and felt it cut through. He dashed to his feet to see the wolf at his feet, half decapitated and yet still moving.
“Solomon was right. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.” Thought Michael, swinging his sword around in a long arc. Before his very eyes, he could see the savage wound on the werewolf’s neck closing again, but it did not finish before Michael’s blow connected with the side of its neck and cleaved through to what remained of it. The wolf’s head came loose and bounced on the ground at Michael’s feet.
One down. One to go. Michael turned to see Solomon sorely pressed by the giant man-wolf thing the second skinchanger had transformed into. With his vampire claws, Solomon had given the werewolf a number of nasty scratches across its belly and chest. Despite the ugliness of those wounds, the werewolf was not stopping.
Michael charged forward and sank his sword deep into the man-wolf’s side. It howled in shock and pain, and then gave Michael a solid backhand which sent him flying. Michael landed hard on his upper back and then tumbled over to land flat on his belly. Although he’d sustained numerous injuries in his sparring bouts with Solomon, this blow hurt worse than all of them combined. How hard did the werewolf hit him?
Despite the injury, he knew he couldn’t leave Solomon to face the monster alone. He popped to his feet and went looking for his sword. It was at that point that the second werewolf determined enough was enough. His companion dead and now facing two well-equipped and well-trained vampires, he decided discretion was the better part of valor. With a mighty leap, he bounded over Solomon’s head, shifted into the form of a normal sized wolf, and dashed off into the night.
“Are you alright?” Michael asked of Solomon.
“I’ve been better, but I’ll live. What happened to the second?”
Michael gestured to the body of the werewolf he’d killed. It had shifted back to human form and was now a naked decapitated man on the forest floor.
“Fuck me. You took down a skinchanger?”
Michael shrugged. “What choice did I have?”
“We should have lost that fight. Vampires are usually well outmatched by werewolves. And yet, there’s hardly a scratch on either one of us.”
“Guess they fucked with the wrong pair of vampires.”
“Guess so.” Said Solomon. “Damn, you even took his head like I taught you.”
“Luck helped.”
“I’ll take it.” A loud howl pierced through the night. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back with more friends.”
-----
“War!” screamed the youth. He was no more than 17, but carried with him all the energy and impulsivity of his age. “They dare come onto our land and slay one of our own.” He was one of several, perhaps a dozen, individuals encircling a large bonfire deep within the forest. They came from all walks of life. Some were clearly rural, wearing the dusty clothing of farm workers or forest residents. A handful were dressed more sharply, marking them as urban folk, a mix from Blacksburg, Roanoke, and Christiansburg.
“The vampires grow stronger.” Said another. “They have created at least three more of their kind in the last twelve months. They have spread their filth into Blacksburg and now encroach upon our forests and wilds. The young one is right, we must retaliate! Before it is too late.”
“And die under the fangs of the ancient one.” Retorted a third. “You forget they are ruled by one who has seen uncounted nights, whose bodyguard walked the earth when the tales of Robin Hood and King Arthur were first being written.”
“Your fear is misplaced.” Said the leader, a venerable but still vigorous werewolf named Tyler. “With our strength combined, we are a match for any of them, even their decrepit misshapen prince.”
“A man is coming.” Said the woman at the chief’s side. As if on cue, there was a flash and within the circle stood Professor Nolan Baranski.
“You mock our sacred ways by your presence, mage.” Snarled Tyler. “You are not welcome here.”
“You don’t exactly keep appointments with wizards, great chief. Thus, I must disturb you at odd times. Normally, I would respect your people’s ways, but the urgency of this matter necessitated a more direct approach. This is a war moot and you need what I offer to make its decisions wisely.”
“You have nothing we want.” Retorted Chief Tyler. “And I should gut you for daring to intrude on this hallowed ground.”
“Do you really want to test what I’m capable of?”
“You couldn’t stop us all, Doctor.” Said the youth.
“Perhaps not, but I can assure you that your belligerent plans against our common neighbors will be far more difficult if you try anything. Who wants to lay bets on how many of you I can roast in your own juices before you cut me down?”
“Enough!” barked Tyler. “We know your ways, and your power. What do you offer?”
“An exchange, of sorts. Call it a token of good will between our peoples.”
“An exchange of what?”
“Information and mutual assistance. Within the circle of the vampires in Blacksburg travel seemingly normal mortals. Thralls they call them. But one of them, as I’m sure you know, is a cub, an unblooded werewolf, ignorant of his heritage and true potential. He is not alone. There is another, a friend of his, who has shown the potential to be one of our kind.”
“They are vampiric thralls.” Spat Tyler with a sense of disgust. “Tainted and worthless. They are bound slaves to their vampire master and useless to us and to you.”
“We both know that when they awaken to their true selves the bond of blood will break. You may be willing to discard one of your own, but I am not. Your war plans endanger our own fledgling.”
“What matter is that to us?”
“Do you really want to battle on two fronts? Against the vampires and the magi? Besides, I wonder if all of your pack shares your disdain for this unblooded cub. He’s an innocent, or worse, a victim of their treacheries. Will you not rescue him?”
“Mind your courtesies, mage.” Snarled Tyler. “You are not welcome here and you are certainly not allowed to question my judgment in these matters. I lead this pack, not you. He is a vampire’s plaything and he is condemned for that reason. Let him die with his masters.”
“Bravado robs you of logic, Chief Tyler. If you can kill his masters, you can rescue him. Surely, he’s not beyond redemption.” Nolan looked about and could see the assembled werewolves in the circle mumble among themselves. “Stay your hand, mighty chief, and we will work with you to ensure that both your cub and our fledgling mage are safely rescued from those who would enslave them. Do not continue on this violent course, both for you pack and for the younglings you would so callously sacrifice.”
“You go too far, wizard. I forgave your first attempt to question my leadership, but my grace has limits. You dare to try to plant seeds of dissension within my pack and at a moot of my calling!” Tyler jumped to his feet and immediately began to morph into a massive man-wolf.
Baranski was ready. As Tyler leaped forward in what would be a massive tackle, the mage simply vanished.
He reappeared on a hillside about a half-mile away, next to his waiting apprentice, Darren.
“They sound mad.” Observed Darren. The howls in the distance were loud and furious.
“Their chief should be. I deliberately embarrassed him before his pack. And werewolves tend not to be the forgiving sort.” Said Baranski.
“What did you hope to accomplish by this?”
“Tyler is a bitter old bigot. His hatred of the vampires blinds him and makes him willing to sacrifice his own needlessly. Hopefully, his own have now seen that clearly. With luck, one of his subordinates will now challenge him for leadership. Undoubtedly, at least one of the others now questions whether it is right and just to simply abandon one of their own because a vampire has forced their way into his life.”
“And how does that help us?”
“Oh, a lot of different ways. A more open-minded chief will probably be more amenable to diplomatic relations with our kind, but regarding our immediate concern, he will be far less likely to go in 'guns blazing' as it were.”
“And if Tyler overcomes their challenge?”
“The distraction will keep him occupied for a while. Long enough, I hope, to figure out a way to get our boy out before the wolves slaughter him in an orgy of blood. Besides, if I know anything about vampires, there's an orgy of blood coming the tribe's way anyway.”
-----
Deborah paced back and forth somewhat nervously. “This is disturbing to put it mildly.”
Ernie nodded. “Yep, the puppies and the wizards together. It didn't look like they were too happy, but they were talking.”
“How do you know all this?” challenged Michael.
“I saw them.” replied Ernie. His tone changed, becoming more formal. He'd switched personalities mid-stream again, responding to Michael’s mistrust.
“How?”
“I thought it wise to learn their plans after the skirmish the other night. So I crept up on their ritual circle under the cover of shadow and listened in.” Ernie looked angry, defensive. “Something I would not have need to do if you hadn't slaughtered one of them.”
“We didn't have a whole lot of choice.” said Solomon, defending Michael.
“And then there's your part in this, Solomon.” said Ernie, his voice like ice. “Nowhere else in all our territory for you to take him for your belligerent exercises than land belonging to one of our most dangerous enemies?”
“I don't need to apologize to you for my training techniques. Mortal police tend to frown upon discharging firearms within city limits. Explain how I’d keep the Masquerade safe doing that?”
“Enough.” barked Deborah. “I'm content to take Ernie's report at face value. But why the mages? The werewolves don't get along any better with them than they do us. And this isn't their fight anyway.”
Ernie shrugged innocently. “Something about a cub.”
“A young werewolf is still no concern of the mages.”
“This cub has a friend: A wizard fledgling.”
“An unawakened mage and a cub werewolf together?”
“And both of them, thralls to a vampire. One of us.”
“Cause for war.” said Solomon. “Above and beyond what we did the other night.”
“Who are they?” asked Ernie. “Who's the cub and the baby wizard? Whose thralls are they?” He glowered at Deborah, expecting an answer.
“You don't know?” said Michael.
“They didn't confide that much openly. I got the sense I was the only one there who did not know who they were talking about.”
“Regardless, hell is coming.” said Solomon. “War with the werewolves will be unpleasant.”
“And worse if the mages ally with them.” Added Ernie. “You need to cut these thralls loose. Eliminate the reason for the conflict.”
“You presume they’re mine?” said Deborah. “Michael has his, as do you. Without knowing who they are talking about, how are we to proceed? No, I say we let them bring their war.”
“What?” exclaimed Solomon.
“It's an opportunity.” said Deborah. “The Prince will be distracted and we can make our move. There will never be a better time.”
“Fear of Mathias is one of the few things that keeps the werewolf threat in check.” argued Ernie. “They'll move to overrun us if we take him down now.”
“So he is the enemy.” said Michael; His answer had come at last.
“Yes, you've learned everything you need to face him and his allies.” said Deborah. “We had planned to bring you up to speed tonight anyway, but Ernie's news complicates things.”
“This is not the time for rash action.” interjected Ernie fiercely. “Rashness is what has brought this upon us in the first place. Unvetted thralls, a dead werewolf, and now you want to move against the Prince immediately. No, there are too many variables. I'll have no part in this.” With that, he marched out of the apartment.
“He may be right.” observed Solomon. “This is delicate situation and I'd be more inclined to side with the Prince when a werewolf war looms. Killing him now leaves us all vulnerable.”
“Maybe that’s what Ernie wants. He’s not telling the whole story.” observed Michael.
Deborah looked at him keenly. “Why do you say that?”
“He can read minds. And if those werewolves and mages had no cause to think they were being observed, I presume he could loot their brains at his leisure. And yet he didn't. Why not? I doubt they could innately resist his powers. For one, Ernie is nearly a thousand years old as best we can guess. His power should be far beyond what those werewolves and mages could resist. And yet, he tells us nothing of what he read in their thoughts.”
“You don't trust him.” said Deborah.
“No, I don’t. There's something fishy about all this. Sure, I can imagine the werewolves being angry at the killing of one of their own. But to have them and the mages stalking us because we've enthralled one of each is a stretch. And let's be honest. We know exactly who the prime candidates are: Mitch and Boar. Ernie probably knows of your discovery of Boar’s odd blood and Mitch’s uncanny luck and has woven a story that fits those facts.”
“So you think the whole thing's a lie? The whole story just made up?” said Solomon.
“It could be. The question is why.” said Michael. “And I think I know that too.”
Deborah gave him a quizzical look. Michael continued. “I don't know if you've noticed but Ernie shows an almost unhealthy interest in me personally. He hovers a little too close, is always excited to see me. And when Kris and I visited his 'church' last Christmas he essentially propositioned me. And has done so since. I've been dismissing all this as pieces of his crazy personality but maybe there's a method to the madness. Maybe Ernie wants me for himself. Isolating me from the two people I know who bridge between my life before and my life now would only benefit that.”
“Perhaps,” said Deborah, “I’ve certainly noticed his interest in you, but like you I’ve not given it too much heed. After all, any guesses as to what he’s up to are probably moot. Who are we to try to figure out the mind of a thousand year old lunatic?”
Solomon shrugged. “It's as plausible as anything else, I suppose. Regardless, Michael is right about one thing. Ernie did not tell us the whole story. There’s no reason he wouldn’t know the minds of those he was spying on. And he did not tell us.”
“Mark one in the ‘Lying through his teeth’ column.” Said Michael confidently.
“You’re learning how the game is played.” Complimented Deborah. “Still, Ernie’s known for his theatrics and few of us volunteer information of this sort for free. That he told us anything is probably a mark in the ‘May be the truth’ column. He told us this without extracting a favor; Ernie probably thinks this information too important not to be shared.”
“But he did not disclose all of it.” Michael wasn’t sure now if this wasn’t another exercise. To see if he could discern the truth of the matter.
“No, but perhaps he didn’t have to. It didn’t take you long to discern who our most likely mage-and-werewolf pair are. It may be a lie, as you say, but it’s a good one because it does fit the facts. Fits well enough to be the truth.”
“All this is academic.” Said Michael impatiently. “What are we going to do now? Challenge Mathias or stand by his side against the werewolf onslaught? Do we hold fast to Boar and Mitch or cut them loose somehow?”
“All good questions.” Interjected Solomon. “It may be theatrics, but I think we have to presume that we've lost Ernie's support for the time being. It would be unwise to move against Mathias without him. And since we don’t know if the threat of war is real or not, it would probably be good to take a wait and see attitude. Odds are good the werewolves will make a move against us soon enough. They’re not exactly known for subtlety. Or patience.”
“If they do,” added Deborah, “We’d better hope there's a deity up there who's favorable to vampires.”
Act Two Chapter Three
Monday, September 26, 2011
Act Two Chapter One - In Your Room
Officer Julia Peachtree of the Blacksburg Police department hiked up her slacks and fastened her belt. “This is embarrassing.” She said.
Michael Allens sat on the hood of her police cruiser and smiled. “Oh, come now, doing it when you’re on duty out here in town? It’s such a turn on for you. Admit it!”
“Everything about you is a turn on. And what if Scott knew?”
“Your husband will never find out. You will never say anything to him under any circumstance. This is my command.”
“Yes, master.”
Michael smiled. “Now, I believe you have your duties to perform. I’ll leave you to them.”
Michael watched as the police cruiser drove off. Julia was not the only one with a place to be. Boar’s annual SCA party was tonight, and probably already started. Michael gathered up his own things and began walking.
It would be a good 15 min walk from his little hiding place in the woods, a patch of land with a run down cabin he’d bought. It was across Rt. 460 from the Tom’s Creek intersection. Michael gingerly crossed the four-lane and headed into Blacksburg proper.
Memories of last year’s party flooded into his head. There he was, a freshman who’d managed to get lucky against the club’s champion fighter in an exhibition match. Of course, others had not seen it as luck, including that champion himself. Having won their respect, Michael was welcomed into their group and on to his destiny. For from the group came the party, and from the party came Deborah. And, of course, from Deborah came his rebirth into darkness.
Had his life played out normally, Michael would now be coming into his sophomore year at Tech. But normal was not his lot, nor had it been for ten months. No, instead he was living a life he could only have dreamed of.
At least three nights of every week were spent on the hunt. Michael almost never fed without first savoring the other pleasures his prey offered him, and offer they did. The open often-rebellious atmosphere of a public university made that easy. And when pickings were slim, he could always fall back on his "herd," his ever-willing thralls who offered themselves and their blood on command.
The rest of his time was spent working, for even as a vampire not all was fun and games. Michael had taken a cue from Deborah and the others with their tales of the ways vampires had made use of the legends to misdirect and confound the mortal populace. The end result was his first published novel, Nosferatu Berliner. It was the story of a West German journalist and an East German policeman trying to solve a series of strange murders across a Cold War Berlin. He’d written it under a pen name and, after having several of his vampiric colleagues edit the script for Masquerade-endangering truths, offered it to a major publisher. They scooped it up in a heartbeat and soon Michael, or rather his pen name of Adrian Cord, was the hottest new author in horror fiction.
It could not have come at a better time. Coppola had finished his version of the Dracula story and it was set to hit theatres in December. Word had come that the Anne Rice novels were also soon to see the big screen treatment. Vampires were hot and it left the public hungering for his next work. Michael spent several nights each week putting together a new manuscript, using many of the same characters. Here, the story had his East German immigrate to America after the Wall came down. Michael set his next vampire story in Philadelphia, a city he knew from visiting his grandparents there as a small child. It was near to completion.
Michael turned the corner onto University City Blvd. With his vampire senses, he could already hear the revelry of the party from Boar’s apartment about 500 meters further on.
Writing was not the only work Michael had been keeping up on. There was also his purposes in Kindred society, his preparation to be a soldier in a war he still knew little about. Solomon had been training him each week in combat techniques and weaponry of various sorts. Likewise, the mercurial Ernie had been toughening Michael’s mental discipline, teaching him to resist and repel the various supernatural powers that could and would be used against him by enemies of all stripes.
With nearly a year of training and education into what it meant to be a vampire, or more specifically, a Daeva sired by Deborah Means to defeat her “enemy,” Michael knew his ascent to full citizenship in their society would be soon. No longer would he be regarded as a mere infant among their kind. He now knew and understood enough. And with that knowledge came not just respect, but opportunity,
After all, Michael had his own enemies that he wanted to deal with.
He had a plan, a way to lure his ex-girlfriend Rebecca back to Blacksburg. Michael had to admit though he wasn’t yet sure what he was going to do with her once she got here. Oh, he had some ideas, but which one? He had not expected this to be as difficult as it was turning out to be.
After all, he’d been with so many others now that his rejection by Rebecca seemed to barely register. And yet, he also knew that the affections of those others were driven by false desires, either the blood bond of a vampiric thrall or submission to his seductive supernatural power. There was no genuine affection in any of it, no love, no honesty, no truth. The unbelievable devotion Kris had shown him on New Years Eve now felt hollow. No one had ever loved him for him.
And it all began with Rebecca.
Michael shook off these thoughts, finding himself growing angrier and angrier as he moved closer and closer to the party. Tonight was no time for such grim reminders. It was a time for fun and revelry. He cleared his mind and rapped on the door.
Boar popped the door open. “Hey, we were wondering if you were coming.”
“Am I that late?” said Michael with some genuine puzzlement. He glanced down at his watch.
“Nah.” Replied Boar. “We just figured you’d be the first one here.”
“I confess my sin of desiring to be fashionably late.”
“I’m sure Mathias would love to hear your confession,” said Deborah, walking over to the two of them. “But none of us do.”
Michael leaned down and gave his sire a peck on the cheek. “Happy anniversary.” He whispered.
“Oh? And I thought men always forgot.” She teased.
“Anniversary of what?” asked Boar.
“The day we met. It was at this party last year.” Explained Michael.
“Ah.” Said Boar. “Can I get you anything?” He gestured towards the kitchen.
“Brunette. Preferably one with larger than a C cup-size.”
“Damn, Michael. Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?” said Mitch, coming into the kitchen to refill his drink.
“So says Captain Gland, the only person on campus who might get laid more often than I do.”
Mitch shrugged. “Hey, I get lucky.”
“So we’ve noticed.” Said Deborah. “About everything.”
Michael fetched himself a drink, mixing up a Long Island much like the one Boar had offered him the night after he’d split with Rebecca. He took a few sips of his drink and headed out into the living room of the apartment. Several SCA folks were busy playing three-man and other drinking games on the floor, while still others chatted on the sofa. Out on the back porch, Michael saw Kris.
He opened the screen door and stepped outside. “Hey, love.” He said affectionately to Kris as she turned. She smiled at him and Michael had to admit, although the emotions were illusory, they were still intoxicating. There was a part of him truly regretted enthralling her. He would have liked to have known if he could have made something authentic with her. He would have liked to have known if they could have fallen in love with each other for real.
Kris walked over and took Michael’s drink from his hand. She took a sip and flinched when she discovered how strong it was.
“Good thing those don’t hit you the way they do me.” She said. “That’s strong.”
“But tasty.” He said. He leaned over and gave her a long tender kiss. “As are you.”
“It’s good to be back.” She admitted.
“And how went your summer internship?” It was small talk. Michael already knew the answer. Although Kris had spent the summer in Washington DC, she had called him at least twice a week for the whole summer.
“Not well enough that I’d want to stay. You’ve given me a taste for the extreme, the criminal. Working in a cubicle for the rest of my life doesn’t appeal anymore.”
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
She reached up and gave his neck an odd rub. Michael wasn’t sure what she was doing until she said “lipstick.”
“Oh.” He said meekly.
“Who this time?”
“Officer Julia Peachtree of the Blacksburg police. Speaking of the criminal, always helps to have someone on the inside to cover for you.”
“And it never hurts when they’re cute and blond, I’m guessing.” Kris smiled. Michael’s dalliances were no secret to any of his thralls. “As long as I get mine…” she started to say.
“And you always do.” Interrupted Michael.
“We are overdue, with me being away all summer.”
“I could bend you over the railing right here.” Offered Michael. He was joking, but a look crossed Kris’ face that said the idea excited her. He gave her an affectionate pat on the cheek before kissing her again. “You know, I keep wondering when I’m going to suggest something kinky that actually offends you and nothing ever does.”
“I’m just that kind of girl.” She replied playfully.
Michael shook his head and walked back inside.
Mitch had taken a place at the three-man table. Across from him was Kaylie, the buxom brunette who’d tried to cheer him after Rebecca’s break-up. Funny how many memories of that party were imposing themselves on Michael’s mind. Michael was pleased to see her; the image in his mind when he’d answered Boar’s query earlier was of Kaylie. She was a regular at Boar’s parties, yet Michael had never gotten another shot at her after Deb had interjected herself between them last year.
And now, it looked like Michael was going to miss another opportunity. It was very obvious that Mitch intended to make Kaylie as drunk as possible and his uncanny luck was not hurting his chances. It would not be the first time Mitch had snatched one out from under Michael, which Michael thought impressive since he had tools and powers Mitch could only dream of.
Of course, Michael had never made it into a real competition either. He’d simply accepted his losses with some grace, trusting that there would always be another time. And he was content to do the same tonight. After all, if he’d really pushed the issue, he knew Kaylie would go home with him. But, he figured he'd let Mitch win the prize tonight.
Michael took a seat on the couch and surveyed his surroundings. Kris came back inside and immediately made for the seat next to him. “You looked lonely.” She said, which was a nice way for her to say that she noticed he’d not found anyone else. However true, it wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, there was always Kris and tonight she was really the one he wanted.
----
“Not sure what cauliflower has to do with anything.” Quipped Ernie.
Michael simply shrugged. A few more nights had passed and Michael had to come to Deb’s apartment for another session of mental discipline with Ernie. So far, he was doing well.
Ernie glared at him with a baleful stare. He was obviously getting frustrated in his attempts to get inside Michael’s mind. “Michael’s no fun tonight.” He whined, slipping for a moment into his child persona.
“I’m sorry, Ernie, but we’ll have to find another game to play.”
“Like ‘Go hunt the pretty girl?’ I like that one.”
Michael looked over at Deborah and she gave a nod. The practice session was over. “Sure, Ernie.” He said. “Why don’t you go get a head start?”
“Whee!!!” and he was out the door.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” said Deb.
“He’ll revert to his prophet/cult leader personality as soon as he’s out the door. Besides, as you’ve said before, regardless of which Ernie he is, he’s always super-keen to protect our Masquerade.” He looked at Deb lustfully. “And maybe the pretty girl I want to hunt is right here.”
Deb laughed playfully. “You’ll go hungry. Surely there’s one of your adoring fans out there just waiting to for you to find them.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I warned you about that a long time ago.” Cautioned Deborah. “You don’t want to fall in love with another vampire, not even me.”
“I know, but there’s something appealing about being wanted for real by someone. You come to me because you choose to. They…well, it’s just that they’re all driven by the blood bond. Their feelings, their desires, all of it is fake, a contrivance of my vampiric powers. Occasionally, I hunger for something a bit more genuine, even if it is just shallow lust. It’s still a better illusion than what they offer.”
Deborah nodded. “It’s never an easy thing when we come to this moment. Many of us live in denial of it for decades, but I might have guessed as smart as you are that you’d come to it sooner. It is a rare thing for our kind to find genuine affections: true friendship, lasting love. We always question, always wonder. Is it real or is it just a contrivance of our power?”
“Yeah, it’s something I’ve been struggling with. I take it you’ve been there.”
“For a long time. To be a vampire is to be alone. It is the heart of our curse.”
Michael looked at her grimly. “You knew and you said nothing.”
“I did not have to. You would not have chosen differently the night I changed you into what you are now. Your destiny was already written well before I came on the scene.”
Michael looked at her piercingly. “What do you mean?”
“Loneliness is not our curse alone. It is the curse of every monster: vampire, werewolf, wizard, or human. I wouldn’t look to being a vampire for the reason you’re alone, Michael. You were doomed to that regardless of whether I turned you or not.”
“What are you saying?” said Michael, getting agitated. “That I was a monster before you turned me?”
“In a word, yes. People who cloak themselves in morality as fiercely as you did don’t do so because they’re afraid of some almighty power, they do it because they’re afraid of themselves. And now that the shackles are off, you’ve proven that true numerous times: the night you raped me for instance. You thought it a terrible thing to force yourself on me and yet you did it anyway. And since then? You thrill to the thought of murdering your devoted thrall, finding it quite the turn on. These are not new things, they’re just what you kept buried within for the whole of your life.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“To warn you.” She said quietly. “You are a beast of rage and lust and making you into a vampire only gave you the freedom to be your true self. That freedom can be intoxicating and it can be dangerous. You have been drunk on it for this past year and now you are beginning to feel the hangover, to coin a metaphor.”
Deborah came over and gave Michael an affectionate stroke on the arm. “The question each one of us struggles with is how do we deal with this part of ourselves? Every night of our Requiem we must answer that question. This is my final lesson to you, my childe, my final warning. Learn what it means when we say ‘monsters we are, lest monsters we become.’”
“Rebecca knew all this. That’s why she left me.”
“Yes, I think it’s safe to say that’s why she left you. She got to know you well enough to see your true self. And all the others, if not blinded by your powers, will do the same.”
“So all I have is an illusion. All I’ll ever have.”
“That is our curse.”
She walked over to the door, pulling a jacket on. “The night awaits. Come. Dwell on this truth too long and it will drive you mad.”
“Like Ernie?”
“No, like me.”
----
The night was still young and the bars were full. Michael had no idea where Ernie had gotten to, nor did he care to keep track of Deb. Her words had hit like a hammer blow, and the more he dwelt on them the angrier he got.
“I was always a monster.” He echoed in his mind. And he knew she was right, the truth he’d never wanted to admit. All the rage at his rejections, all the desires for love he’d never felt, it had twisted him into something grotesque. It was why Rebecca had gone; why she had made her accusations of him. Becoming a vampire was not the first step in his descent, it was the last.
He decided to go off his usual beaten path, turning left on College Ave towards Squires instead of downtown. He was heading over to “TOTS,” the Top of the Stairs bar.
He had not walked fifty feet when Ernie emerged from a nearby storefront, wiping his mouth and looking rather contented. “Ah, Michael!” he said in an excited voice.
“Hello again, Ernie.” He said in a quiet tone.
“Michael looks sad.” Said Ernie in a sing-song voice. “Why is he sad?” Ernie’s face had an exaggerated pout, tell-tale sign that the child personality was in full-force.
Michael let out his breath. “It’s nothing. Just something Deb told me.”
“I don’t like it when Debbie is mean to Michael. She’s bad.” Ernie put his arm across Michael’s shoulder. “I can be your friend, Michael. I won’t be mean to you.”
Michael nodded awkwardly. “Um…thanks, Ernie.”
“You know, I can make you feel just as good as she does. You don’t need her anymore.”
This was not the first time Ernie had made either an overt or covert sexual proposition to Michael. Michael shrugged off Ernie’s arm and shook his head.
“It’s not like that, Ernie.”
“It could be.” He replied wistfully.
“No.” said Michael firmly. “I’ve said that before. I meant it then. I mean it now.”
Ernie frowned and voice grew cold. “You’ll learn, Michael. Soon enough you’ll learn who your real friends are. I’d never hurt you. She will. She’s mean!” With that, he stormed off.
There was a part of Michael that found Ernie’s envy of Deborah amusing. But the propositions were a growing nuisance and Michael wondered when Ernie would stop taking ‘no’ for an answer. Knowing Ernie’s power, Michael shuddered at the thought of what that might entail.
He continued on to TOTS and went inside. The bar was crowded with college students. No one paid him any heed, so he parked himself at an empty table and started to scan the room. But his thoughts were distracted by recent events and he found himself unable to focus on the task at hand.
Michael let out an audible groan of frustration. “I’m no more in control of my fate than before. Forever lonely, Deborah claims. Be with me, demands Ernie, or else. I like the storybook vampires better. Feared, powerful, seductive, and absolute master of all they survey. I thought that was what Deborah was offering, but I am a far cry from that.”
His eyes fell upon a couple at the bar. The girl was a luscious blonde, buxom and vivacious. She was laughing at whatever joke her boyfriend had told. The boyfriend was handsome and rugged looking; something of a rugby player build, athletic and strong. They seemed happy together, a picture of everything Michael had always wanted and was apparently never going to have.
“Tonight, let another share my misery.” Michael thought. He stood up as the boyfriend wandered off to the restroom. He came over and immediately parked himself in the spot the boyfriend had just vacated.
“Hi!” he said casually.
The girl gave a polite nod but no more acknowledgment. Michael turned to the barkeep and ordered a beer. To his surprise, he was not carded.
“That’s surprising.” He admitted to the girl. “I figured I’d be carded, looking as young as I do.” She did not reply.
“Dude, you’re in my spot and you’re next to my girl. Get lost.” Came a voice behind him.
“Hey, chill. All I did was say ‘hi’ and order a beer.” Said Michael defensively. “Is there some law against being nice in these parts?”
“Seat’s taken. Now do I have to repeat myself?” The rugby player glowered over Michael menacingly.
“Maybe you do. I don’t really speak asshole.” said Michael defiantly.
The rugby frat boy moved in when the bartender interjected. “That’s enough, you two. If you’ve a problem, take it outside.”
“Why not?” suggested Michael.
The frat boy smiled. “Your funeral.”
They headed outside, down the stairs, and into a nearby alley. Just as the frat boy cleared the corner, Michael spun and lashed out with a powerful kick to the groin. The frat boy doubled over in pain, and Michael brought his fist down hard on the back of his head. There was a crunch of bone and he dropped to the pavement.
“Dinner is served.” Said Michael mirthfully, diving in. He drank until he was sated, knowing full well the blow he’d struck was likely fatal anyway.
“What a mess.” Deborah appeared at the end of the alleyway. Her face was a frown.
“One less drunken bully to deal with.” Said Michael, wiping his face.
“And this is how you take my final lesson? To kill randomly and without purpose? Your anger will not change the truth, Michael. This was stupid, reckless.”
“It can be taken care of.” Said Michael angrily. Her condescending tone reminded him a parent lecturing a child and that was the last thing he wanted to hear tonight. “I have the means. Isn’t that one of the marks of being a full fledged vampire anyway? One call to my pet police officer and this’ll be just an unexplained disappearance.”
“And his buddies or his date upstairs? Didn’t remember them, did you?” Her tone was cold and hard.
“You said it yourself, I’m a beast of rage and lust.”
“And you’ve learned nothing of why I told you that. The warning I gave.” Said Deborah. “Call your pet police officer and let’s get this dealt with.”
----
“What the hell happened here?” screamed the blonde, visibly distraught.
“Miss, I need you to step back from the crime scene.” Said Officer Peachtree.
“That’s my boyfriend!”
“Which one?”
“The one…Oh, God…That bastard, he killed him.”
“Fucker pulled a knife on me.” Said Michael. “Got what he deserved.”
“He wouldn’t, you son-of-a-bitch!”
“Miss, I need to ask you a few questions.” Interjected Julia. “You were with the deceased this evening?”
“Up until this asshole came along.”
“Can you describe what happened?”
“This guy came up, looked like he was going to make some moves on me. Paul intervened. They argued for a second, and then the bartender cut in. Told them to take it outside.”
“And?” goaded Julia.
“This guy agreed. Then Paul said…”
“What did he say?” insisted Julia.
The blonde got a defeated look on her face. “He said it would be his funeral. He really did it, didn’t he?”
“We have witnesses.” Julia gestured towards Deborah, who stood impatiently against the alley wall. Deborah merely nodded in response. The blonde burst into tears.
“Officer Kelly, can you see this young lady home? I’m sure we’ll want a statement from her later.”
Kelly nodded and escorted the girl away. Julia walked back over to Michael and Deborah.
“You owe me one, mi’lord.” She said nonchalantly.
Michael looked over at Deborah and saw the disgust in her face. He merely nodded in response to Julia. Deborah walked over. “As you do me.” She said it significantly less cordially.
“Are you done lecturing me?”
“For tonight, yes. But tonight proves to me, you’re not ready to be one of us.” With that, she walked off into the night.
-----
“He did not take that well at all, I see.” Offered Solomon. He leaned back in his hot tub, enjoying the feel of the warm water on his cold skin. “The ugly truth of our condition. They always know, deep down, what we are. See, this is why I don’t bother with the pretense of seduction. I know I’m pretty enough to score any chick I want, but going down that road…” he let the words trail off.
Deborah gave him a hard look, as if she did not believe a word of what he was saying. But she said nothing in response. “I shouldn’t have told him. He wasn’t ready for it. And now we can add despair to his vices, a despair that is making him reckless.”
“There’s an easy solution.” Said Solomon. “Enthrall him and not only will he be easy to control, but you’ll give him an illusion of love and affection he can’t see through.”
“His rational mind would know better. It is one thing to force a bond on a human who knows nothing of our kind and our powers. It is something else to force one on fellow kindred who knows what has been done to him. That was what my sire did to me and I promised him I would not do that to him. I’d rather kill him than put him through what I went through.”
“You have to look at this practically.” Said Solomon. “You’ll not get permission to sire again. And for all of his flaws, Michael probably is our best bet for a viable co-conspirator.”
“I could turn Boar. He’s almost as good.”
“You’ve said yourself there’s something funny about him. If he’s a mage or werewolf or something, regardless of his ignorance of his true heritage, he’ll not turn. He’ll just die. And then you’re down two allies. And turning him would be done without permission. If you did succeed and Mathias found out, you’d be dead. We need to be practical in this. You either need to keep a closer eye on Michael or bind him to you. If you don’t, he could ruin everything.”
“He’ll not much appreciate my hovering over his shoulder all the time. Especially since he believes he’s ready for full acceptance into our society.”
“Not if he’s going to act out like a foolish child who got his favorite toy taken away. There’s too much at stake for that. You’ve told him this truth only once. And while he may be convinced of it now, it would not be hard to convince him otherwise at this point. Vampire or no, he’s still essentially a 19-year old kid. Give him pussy and he won’t care how close you hover and he’ll soon forget our curse of loneliness. He is infatuated with you, regardless of whoever else he lures into his bed. Use it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Said Deborah. “but there may be another way.”
“How so?”
“Give him what he wants.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Michael is angry. It comes out, all the time. Came out tonight. Anger at everything, but most keenly at those who expose his flaws or deny him his desires. His ex-girlfriend figures foremost among those, since she did both. Gaining vengeance on her was key in his consent to be turned. What if I let him have it?”
“I’m not sure stoking that which makes him so reckless is such a good idea.” Answered Solomon. “But with her dead by his hand, it might calm his bloodlust. I would suggest extreme caution on this course.”
Deborah nodded.
Act Two Chapter Two
Michael Allens sat on the hood of her police cruiser and smiled. “Oh, come now, doing it when you’re on duty out here in town? It’s such a turn on for you. Admit it!”
“Everything about you is a turn on. And what if Scott knew?”
“Your husband will never find out. You will never say anything to him under any circumstance. This is my command.”
“Yes, master.”
Michael smiled. “Now, I believe you have your duties to perform. I’ll leave you to them.”
Michael watched as the police cruiser drove off. Julia was not the only one with a place to be. Boar’s annual SCA party was tonight, and probably already started. Michael gathered up his own things and began walking.
It would be a good 15 min walk from his little hiding place in the woods, a patch of land with a run down cabin he’d bought. It was across Rt. 460 from the Tom’s Creek intersection. Michael gingerly crossed the four-lane and headed into Blacksburg proper.
Memories of last year’s party flooded into his head. There he was, a freshman who’d managed to get lucky against the club’s champion fighter in an exhibition match. Of course, others had not seen it as luck, including that champion himself. Having won their respect, Michael was welcomed into their group and on to his destiny. For from the group came the party, and from the party came Deborah. And, of course, from Deborah came his rebirth into darkness.
Had his life played out normally, Michael would now be coming into his sophomore year at Tech. But normal was not his lot, nor had it been for ten months. No, instead he was living a life he could only have dreamed of.
At least three nights of every week were spent on the hunt. Michael almost never fed without first savoring the other pleasures his prey offered him, and offer they did. The open often-rebellious atmosphere of a public university made that easy. And when pickings were slim, he could always fall back on his "herd," his ever-willing thralls who offered themselves and their blood on command.
The rest of his time was spent working, for even as a vampire not all was fun and games. Michael had taken a cue from Deborah and the others with their tales of the ways vampires had made use of the legends to misdirect and confound the mortal populace. The end result was his first published novel, Nosferatu Berliner. It was the story of a West German journalist and an East German policeman trying to solve a series of strange murders across a Cold War Berlin. He’d written it under a pen name and, after having several of his vampiric colleagues edit the script for Masquerade-endangering truths, offered it to a major publisher. They scooped it up in a heartbeat and soon Michael, or rather his pen name of Adrian Cord, was the hottest new author in horror fiction.
It could not have come at a better time. Coppola had finished his version of the Dracula story and it was set to hit theatres in December. Word had come that the Anne Rice novels were also soon to see the big screen treatment. Vampires were hot and it left the public hungering for his next work. Michael spent several nights each week putting together a new manuscript, using many of the same characters. Here, the story had his East German immigrate to America after the Wall came down. Michael set his next vampire story in Philadelphia, a city he knew from visiting his grandparents there as a small child. It was near to completion.
Michael turned the corner onto University City Blvd. With his vampire senses, he could already hear the revelry of the party from Boar’s apartment about 500 meters further on.
Writing was not the only work Michael had been keeping up on. There was also his purposes in Kindred society, his preparation to be a soldier in a war he still knew little about. Solomon had been training him each week in combat techniques and weaponry of various sorts. Likewise, the mercurial Ernie had been toughening Michael’s mental discipline, teaching him to resist and repel the various supernatural powers that could and would be used against him by enemies of all stripes.
With nearly a year of training and education into what it meant to be a vampire, or more specifically, a Daeva sired by Deborah Means to defeat her “enemy,” Michael knew his ascent to full citizenship in their society would be soon. No longer would he be regarded as a mere infant among their kind. He now knew and understood enough. And with that knowledge came not just respect, but opportunity,
After all, Michael had his own enemies that he wanted to deal with.
He had a plan, a way to lure his ex-girlfriend Rebecca back to Blacksburg. Michael had to admit though he wasn’t yet sure what he was going to do with her once she got here. Oh, he had some ideas, but which one? He had not expected this to be as difficult as it was turning out to be.
After all, he’d been with so many others now that his rejection by Rebecca seemed to barely register. And yet, he also knew that the affections of those others were driven by false desires, either the blood bond of a vampiric thrall or submission to his seductive supernatural power. There was no genuine affection in any of it, no love, no honesty, no truth. The unbelievable devotion Kris had shown him on New Years Eve now felt hollow. No one had ever loved him for him.
And it all began with Rebecca.
Michael shook off these thoughts, finding himself growing angrier and angrier as he moved closer and closer to the party. Tonight was no time for such grim reminders. It was a time for fun and revelry. He cleared his mind and rapped on the door.
Boar popped the door open. “Hey, we were wondering if you were coming.”
“Am I that late?” said Michael with some genuine puzzlement. He glanced down at his watch.
“Nah.” Replied Boar. “We just figured you’d be the first one here.”
“I confess my sin of desiring to be fashionably late.”
“I’m sure Mathias would love to hear your confession,” said Deborah, walking over to the two of them. “But none of us do.”
Michael leaned down and gave his sire a peck on the cheek. “Happy anniversary.” He whispered.
“Oh? And I thought men always forgot.” She teased.
“Anniversary of what?” asked Boar.
“The day we met. It was at this party last year.” Explained Michael.
“Ah.” Said Boar. “Can I get you anything?” He gestured towards the kitchen.
“Brunette. Preferably one with larger than a C cup-size.”
“Damn, Michael. Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?” said Mitch, coming into the kitchen to refill his drink.
“So says Captain Gland, the only person on campus who might get laid more often than I do.”
Mitch shrugged. “Hey, I get lucky.”
“So we’ve noticed.” Said Deborah. “About everything.”
Michael fetched himself a drink, mixing up a Long Island much like the one Boar had offered him the night after he’d split with Rebecca. He took a few sips of his drink and headed out into the living room of the apartment. Several SCA folks were busy playing three-man and other drinking games on the floor, while still others chatted on the sofa. Out on the back porch, Michael saw Kris.
He opened the screen door and stepped outside. “Hey, love.” He said affectionately to Kris as she turned. She smiled at him and Michael had to admit, although the emotions were illusory, they were still intoxicating. There was a part of him truly regretted enthralling her. He would have liked to have known if he could have made something authentic with her. He would have liked to have known if they could have fallen in love with each other for real.
Kris walked over and took Michael’s drink from his hand. She took a sip and flinched when she discovered how strong it was.
“Good thing those don’t hit you the way they do me.” She said. “That’s strong.”
“But tasty.” He said. He leaned over and gave her a long tender kiss. “As are you.”
“It’s good to be back.” She admitted.
“And how went your summer internship?” It was small talk. Michael already knew the answer. Although Kris had spent the summer in Washington DC, she had called him at least twice a week for the whole summer.
“Not well enough that I’d want to stay. You’ve given me a taste for the extreme, the criminal. Working in a cubicle for the rest of my life doesn’t appeal anymore.”
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
She reached up and gave his neck an odd rub. Michael wasn’t sure what she was doing until she said “lipstick.”
“Oh.” He said meekly.
“Who this time?”
“Officer Julia Peachtree of the Blacksburg police. Speaking of the criminal, always helps to have someone on the inside to cover for you.”
“And it never hurts when they’re cute and blond, I’m guessing.” Kris smiled. Michael’s dalliances were no secret to any of his thralls. “As long as I get mine…” she started to say.
“And you always do.” Interrupted Michael.
“We are overdue, with me being away all summer.”
“I could bend you over the railing right here.” Offered Michael. He was joking, but a look crossed Kris’ face that said the idea excited her. He gave her an affectionate pat on the cheek before kissing her again. “You know, I keep wondering when I’m going to suggest something kinky that actually offends you and nothing ever does.”
“I’m just that kind of girl.” She replied playfully.
Michael shook his head and walked back inside.
Mitch had taken a place at the three-man table. Across from him was Kaylie, the buxom brunette who’d tried to cheer him after Rebecca’s break-up. Funny how many memories of that party were imposing themselves on Michael’s mind. Michael was pleased to see her; the image in his mind when he’d answered Boar’s query earlier was of Kaylie. She was a regular at Boar’s parties, yet Michael had never gotten another shot at her after Deb had interjected herself between them last year.
And now, it looked like Michael was going to miss another opportunity. It was very obvious that Mitch intended to make Kaylie as drunk as possible and his uncanny luck was not hurting his chances. It would not be the first time Mitch had snatched one out from under Michael, which Michael thought impressive since he had tools and powers Mitch could only dream of.
Of course, Michael had never made it into a real competition either. He’d simply accepted his losses with some grace, trusting that there would always be another time. And he was content to do the same tonight. After all, if he’d really pushed the issue, he knew Kaylie would go home with him. But, he figured he'd let Mitch win the prize tonight.
Michael took a seat on the couch and surveyed his surroundings. Kris came back inside and immediately made for the seat next to him. “You looked lonely.” She said, which was a nice way for her to say that she noticed he’d not found anyone else. However true, it wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, there was always Kris and tonight she was really the one he wanted.
----
“Not sure what cauliflower has to do with anything.” Quipped Ernie.
Michael simply shrugged. A few more nights had passed and Michael had to come to Deb’s apartment for another session of mental discipline with Ernie. So far, he was doing well.
Ernie glared at him with a baleful stare. He was obviously getting frustrated in his attempts to get inside Michael’s mind. “Michael’s no fun tonight.” He whined, slipping for a moment into his child persona.
“I’m sorry, Ernie, but we’ll have to find another game to play.”
“Like ‘Go hunt the pretty girl?’ I like that one.”
Michael looked over at Deborah and she gave a nod. The practice session was over. “Sure, Ernie.” He said. “Why don’t you go get a head start?”
“Whee!!!” and he was out the door.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” said Deb.
“He’ll revert to his prophet/cult leader personality as soon as he’s out the door. Besides, as you’ve said before, regardless of which Ernie he is, he’s always super-keen to protect our Masquerade.” He looked at Deb lustfully. “And maybe the pretty girl I want to hunt is right here.”
Deb laughed playfully. “You’ll go hungry. Surely there’s one of your adoring fans out there just waiting to for you to find them.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I warned you about that a long time ago.” Cautioned Deborah. “You don’t want to fall in love with another vampire, not even me.”
“I know, but there’s something appealing about being wanted for real by someone. You come to me because you choose to. They…well, it’s just that they’re all driven by the blood bond. Their feelings, their desires, all of it is fake, a contrivance of my vampiric powers. Occasionally, I hunger for something a bit more genuine, even if it is just shallow lust. It’s still a better illusion than what they offer.”
Deborah nodded. “It’s never an easy thing when we come to this moment. Many of us live in denial of it for decades, but I might have guessed as smart as you are that you’d come to it sooner. It is a rare thing for our kind to find genuine affections: true friendship, lasting love. We always question, always wonder. Is it real or is it just a contrivance of our power?”
“Yeah, it’s something I’ve been struggling with. I take it you’ve been there.”
“For a long time. To be a vampire is to be alone. It is the heart of our curse.”
Michael looked at her grimly. “You knew and you said nothing.”
“I did not have to. You would not have chosen differently the night I changed you into what you are now. Your destiny was already written well before I came on the scene.”
Michael looked at her piercingly. “What do you mean?”
“Loneliness is not our curse alone. It is the curse of every monster: vampire, werewolf, wizard, or human. I wouldn’t look to being a vampire for the reason you’re alone, Michael. You were doomed to that regardless of whether I turned you or not.”
“What are you saying?” said Michael, getting agitated. “That I was a monster before you turned me?”
“In a word, yes. People who cloak themselves in morality as fiercely as you did don’t do so because they’re afraid of some almighty power, they do it because they’re afraid of themselves. And now that the shackles are off, you’ve proven that true numerous times: the night you raped me for instance. You thought it a terrible thing to force yourself on me and yet you did it anyway. And since then? You thrill to the thought of murdering your devoted thrall, finding it quite the turn on. These are not new things, they’re just what you kept buried within for the whole of your life.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“To warn you.” She said quietly. “You are a beast of rage and lust and making you into a vampire only gave you the freedom to be your true self. That freedom can be intoxicating and it can be dangerous. You have been drunk on it for this past year and now you are beginning to feel the hangover, to coin a metaphor.”
Deborah came over and gave Michael an affectionate stroke on the arm. “The question each one of us struggles with is how do we deal with this part of ourselves? Every night of our Requiem we must answer that question. This is my final lesson to you, my childe, my final warning. Learn what it means when we say ‘monsters we are, lest monsters we become.’”
“Rebecca knew all this. That’s why she left me.”
“Yes, I think it’s safe to say that’s why she left you. She got to know you well enough to see your true self. And all the others, if not blinded by your powers, will do the same.”
“So all I have is an illusion. All I’ll ever have.”
“That is our curse.”
She walked over to the door, pulling a jacket on. “The night awaits. Come. Dwell on this truth too long and it will drive you mad.”
“Like Ernie?”
“No, like me.”
----
The night was still young and the bars were full. Michael had no idea where Ernie had gotten to, nor did he care to keep track of Deb. Her words had hit like a hammer blow, and the more he dwelt on them the angrier he got.
“I was always a monster.” He echoed in his mind. And he knew she was right, the truth he’d never wanted to admit. All the rage at his rejections, all the desires for love he’d never felt, it had twisted him into something grotesque. It was why Rebecca had gone; why she had made her accusations of him. Becoming a vampire was not the first step in his descent, it was the last.
He decided to go off his usual beaten path, turning left on College Ave towards Squires instead of downtown. He was heading over to “TOTS,” the Top of the Stairs bar.
He had not walked fifty feet when Ernie emerged from a nearby storefront, wiping his mouth and looking rather contented. “Ah, Michael!” he said in an excited voice.
“Hello again, Ernie.” He said in a quiet tone.
“Michael looks sad.” Said Ernie in a sing-song voice. “Why is he sad?” Ernie’s face had an exaggerated pout, tell-tale sign that the child personality was in full-force.
Michael let out his breath. “It’s nothing. Just something Deb told me.”
“I don’t like it when Debbie is mean to Michael. She’s bad.” Ernie put his arm across Michael’s shoulder. “I can be your friend, Michael. I won’t be mean to you.”
Michael nodded awkwardly. “Um…thanks, Ernie.”
“You know, I can make you feel just as good as she does. You don’t need her anymore.”
This was not the first time Ernie had made either an overt or covert sexual proposition to Michael. Michael shrugged off Ernie’s arm and shook his head.
“It’s not like that, Ernie.”
“It could be.” He replied wistfully.
“No.” said Michael firmly. “I’ve said that before. I meant it then. I mean it now.”
Ernie frowned and voice grew cold. “You’ll learn, Michael. Soon enough you’ll learn who your real friends are. I’d never hurt you. She will. She’s mean!” With that, he stormed off.
There was a part of Michael that found Ernie’s envy of Deborah amusing. But the propositions were a growing nuisance and Michael wondered when Ernie would stop taking ‘no’ for an answer. Knowing Ernie’s power, Michael shuddered at the thought of what that might entail.
He continued on to TOTS and went inside. The bar was crowded with college students. No one paid him any heed, so he parked himself at an empty table and started to scan the room. But his thoughts were distracted by recent events and he found himself unable to focus on the task at hand.
Michael let out an audible groan of frustration. “I’m no more in control of my fate than before. Forever lonely, Deborah claims. Be with me, demands Ernie, or else. I like the storybook vampires better. Feared, powerful, seductive, and absolute master of all they survey. I thought that was what Deborah was offering, but I am a far cry from that.”
His eyes fell upon a couple at the bar. The girl was a luscious blonde, buxom and vivacious. She was laughing at whatever joke her boyfriend had told. The boyfriend was handsome and rugged looking; something of a rugby player build, athletic and strong. They seemed happy together, a picture of everything Michael had always wanted and was apparently never going to have.
“Tonight, let another share my misery.” Michael thought. He stood up as the boyfriend wandered off to the restroom. He came over and immediately parked himself in the spot the boyfriend had just vacated.
“Hi!” he said casually.
The girl gave a polite nod but no more acknowledgment. Michael turned to the barkeep and ordered a beer. To his surprise, he was not carded.
“That’s surprising.” He admitted to the girl. “I figured I’d be carded, looking as young as I do.” She did not reply.
“Dude, you’re in my spot and you’re next to my girl. Get lost.” Came a voice behind him.
“Hey, chill. All I did was say ‘hi’ and order a beer.” Said Michael defensively. “Is there some law against being nice in these parts?”
“Seat’s taken. Now do I have to repeat myself?” The rugby player glowered over Michael menacingly.
“Maybe you do. I don’t really speak asshole.” said Michael defiantly.
The rugby frat boy moved in when the bartender interjected. “That’s enough, you two. If you’ve a problem, take it outside.”
“Why not?” suggested Michael.
The frat boy smiled. “Your funeral.”
They headed outside, down the stairs, and into a nearby alley. Just as the frat boy cleared the corner, Michael spun and lashed out with a powerful kick to the groin. The frat boy doubled over in pain, and Michael brought his fist down hard on the back of his head. There was a crunch of bone and he dropped to the pavement.
“Dinner is served.” Said Michael mirthfully, diving in. He drank until he was sated, knowing full well the blow he’d struck was likely fatal anyway.
“What a mess.” Deborah appeared at the end of the alleyway. Her face was a frown.
“One less drunken bully to deal with.” Said Michael, wiping his face.
“And this is how you take my final lesson? To kill randomly and without purpose? Your anger will not change the truth, Michael. This was stupid, reckless.”
“It can be taken care of.” Said Michael angrily. Her condescending tone reminded him a parent lecturing a child and that was the last thing he wanted to hear tonight. “I have the means. Isn’t that one of the marks of being a full fledged vampire anyway? One call to my pet police officer and this’ll be just an unexplained disappearance.”
“And his buddies or his date upstairs? Didn’t remember them, did you?” Her tone was cold and hard.
“You said it yourself, I’m a beast of rage and lust.”
“And you’ve learned nothing of why I told you that. The warning I gave.” Said Deborah. “Call your pet police officer and let’s get this dealt with.”
----
“What the hell happened here?” screamed the blonde, visibly distraught.
“Miss, I need you to step back from the crime scene.” Said Officer Peachtree.
“That’s my boyfriend!”
“Which one?”
“The one…Oh, God…That bastard, he killed him.”
“Fucker pulled a knife on me.” Said Michael. “Got what he deserved.”
“He wouldn’t, you son-of-a-bitch!”
“Miss, I need to ask you a few questions.” Interjected Julia. “You were with the deceased this evening?”
“Up until this asshole came along.”
“Can you describe what happened?”
“This guy came up, looked like he was going to make some moves on me. Paul intervened. They argued for a second, and then the bartender cut in. Told them to take it outside.”
“And?” goaded Julia.
“This guy agreed. Then Paul said…”
“What did he say?” insisted Julia.
The blonde got a defeated look on her face. “He said it would be his funeral. He really did it, didn’t he?”
“We have witnesses.” Julia gestured towards Deborah, who stood impatiently against the alley wall. Deborah merely nodded in response. The blonde burst into tears.
“Officer Kelly, can you see this young lady home? I’m sure we’ll want a statement from her later.”
Kelly nodded and escorted the girl away. Julia walked back over to Michael and Deborah.
“You owe me one, mi’lord.” She said nonchalantly.
Michael looked over at Deborah and saw the disgust in her face. He merely nodded in response to Julia. Deborah walked over. “As you do me.” She said it significantly less cordially.
“Are you done lecturing me?”
“For tonight, yes. But tonight proves to me, you’re not ready to be one of us.” With that, she walked off into the night.
-----
“He did not take that well at all, I see.” Offered Solomon. He leaned back in his hot tub, enjoying the feel of the warm water on his cold skin. “The ugly truth of our condition. They always know, deep down, what we are. See, this is why I don’t bother with the pretense of seduction. I know I’m pretty enough to score any chick I want, but going down that road…” he let the words trail off.
Deborah gave him a hard look, as if she did not believe a word of what he was saying. But she said nothing in response. “I shouldn’t have told him. He wasn’t ready for it. And now we can add despair to his vices, a despair that is making him reckless.”
“There’s an easy solution.” Said Solomon. “Enthrall him and not only will he be easy to control, but you’ll give him an illusion of love and affection he can’t see through.”
“His rational mind would know better. It is one thing to force a bond on a human who knows nothing of our kind and our powers. It is something else to force one on fellow kindred who knows what has been done to him. That was what my sire did to me and I promised him I would not do that to him. I’d rather kill him than put him through what I went through.”
“You have to look at this practically.” Said Solomon. “You’ll not get permission to sire again. And for all of his flaws, Michael probably is our best bet for a viable co-conspirator.”
“I could turn Boar. He’s almost as good.”
“You’ve said yourself there’s something funny about him. If he’s a mage or werewolf or something, regardless of his ignorance of his true heritage, he’ll not turn. He’ll just die. And then you’re down two allies. And turning him would be done without permission. If you did succeed and Mathias found out, you’d be dead. We need to be practical in this. You either need to keep a closer eye on Michael or bind him to you. If you don’t, he could ruin everything.”
“He’ll not much appreciate my hovering over his shoulder all the time. Especially since he believes he’s ready for full acceptance into our society.”
“Not if he’s going to act out like a foolish child who got his favorite toy taken away. There’s too much at stake for that. You’ve told him this truth only once. And while he may be convinced of it now, it would not be hard to convince him otherwise at this point. Vampire or no, he’s still essentially a 19-year old kid. Give him pussy and he won’t care how close you hover and he’ll soon forget our curse of loneliness. He is infatuated with you, regardless of whoever else he lures into his bed. Use it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Said Deborah. “but there may be another way.”
“How so?”
“Give him what he wants.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Michael is angry. It comes out, all the time. Came out tonight. Anger at everything, but most keenly at those who expose his flaws or deny him his desires. His ex-girlfriend figures foremost among those, since she did both. Gaining vengeance on her was key in his consent to be turned. What if I let him have it?”
“I’m not sure stoking that which makes him so reckless is such a good idea.” Answered Solomon. “But with her dead by his hand, it might calm his bloodlust. I would suggest extreme caution on this course.”
Deborah nodded.
Act Two Chapter Two
I'm back.
Wow. No posts since November 2010. I knew it had been a while, but I didn't realize how long.
Real life in 2011 has been a nightmare for me and my family. That's taken priority. Things now are not all that much more settled, but I feel that for my own sanity I need to return to my writing. Thus, you'll start to see posts here again.
Prior to the hiatus, I had a significant amount of material finished for Act Two of the story. A lot more is getting finished now and we're almost done with that Act. We'll be picking up the story of Michael Allens again shortly.
Real life in 2011 has been a nightmare for me and my family. That's taken priority. Things now are not all that much more settled, but I feel that for my own sanity I need to return to my writing. Thus, you'll start to see posts here again.
Prior to the hiatus, I had a significant amount of material finished for Act Two of the story. A lot more is getting finished now and we're almost done with that Act. We'll be picking up the story of Michael Allens again shortly.
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