July312010

Character Spotlight - Victor

Authors Note: A lot has happened over the last few months, some things that have been touched on in detail and others that have transpired behind closed doors. The purpose of these ‘spotlights’ is to allow our characters to summarize their current thoughts and feelings. Victor’s is being posted first because he wished to do a full summary of the year so far, but the other character’s will soon follow. It’s a bit wordy, but hopefully enjoyable. 

As always, thanks for reading.

—

Perhaps I should explain the ‘back room’.

Nocturnal Embers has been in existence for quite some time. It’s current manager, Tony Marlin, acquired rights to it sometime in the early 1990s under the ownership of Rupert Shaw, the highest ranking vampire in control of San Francisco and it’s immediate greater areas. Rupert has been in San Francisco several centuries and is the most powerful Duke in the Kingdom of California. He was the one who established the secondary destination within Nocturnal Embers, unbeknownst to any but his loyalists. Tony himself would not have known of its existence had it not be a necessity.

After the debacle with Felix, when I discovered the room myself, I struck a bargain with Rupert that I would not disclose his indiscretions to the Primael or his King if I was allowed to assume responsibility for the place. It is one of the few times I used my Primael rank without any hesitation in regard to a member of my own kind, but Rupert knew he had two choices: allow me to close the room down or grant me jurisdiction. He chose the latter.

Why the room needs to be handled delicately is not complicated. Vampires and weres freely cohabit this earth with humans and a multitude of other creatures. Some of these other creatures come from places commonly referred to as other ‘dimensions’, ‘planes of existence’, or ‘realms’. There are select places on this earth where the borders between our realm and others are thinner and able to be crossed by even those who are rather average creatures for their places of origin. Rupert had managed to stumble upon just such a place and had the bar built around it. Thus, the ‘back room’ in Nocturnal Embers is actually a meeting place for various mythical creatures and denizens of other realms. I curtailed the smuggling that Rupert had been engaging in, insisting that any transactions taking place would be of information or discrete items that would not draw any excessive notice or cause radical harm were they misused. For instance, I just recently replenished my quiver of arrows from the same ironwood tree groves that I first learned of when I acquired my bow. Stronger than any wood found in this plane of existence, it is of little consequence to bring through such portals as the one that exists in the ‘back room’. For every one item that is ‘safe’, though, there are dozens that are not. This is the responsibility I have assumed and took copious amounts of time asserting to the room’s clientele when the arrangement between me and Rupert was made last year.

The beings themselves are perhaps even more curious than the items that can be transferred realm-to-realm, but they are never allowed to set foot beyond the threshold that would allow them into the mortal world. Rupert himself established that rule, which is among the chief reasons why I did not instantly turn him over to Primael justice. He was also canny enough to seek assistance in designing the countermeasures that prevent such things from happening. I’ve been told that it has been many years since anyone attempted crossing into our realm uninvited, and Walter is there to continuously monitor for potential slips in security. He still reports to Rupert rather than directly to me, but he knows this is the one detail the Duke and I will always agree on. The ‘back room’ is only viable so long as those who are not meant to be here stay on their side of the door.

But, enough of business. Nocturnal Embers is not a pressing concern, merely one that has been recently on my mind. Had it been something that I was genuinely worried over, I would not have felt at liberty to be away from San Francisco for six months.

Ever since December rolled in the way it did, I knew this year would be just as eventful, if not moreso, than the last. It has delivered many significant things to my door already despite being only the end of July.

January brought with it John’s seer gifts after Lydia received instructions regarding how to draw them out from an unexpected dream-visitor - the children’s mother, Monica, who had drawn out Peter’s powers twenty-two years ago. By the end of the month, Lydia and John were both ‘volunteered’ into service with the Order while Peter, Delilah, Robin and I made ourselves scarce to the US. We spent a few days with Ophelia and her coven in Toronto before heading off continent to take refuge with my long-time friend, Nathan, in Tokyo.

February passed with little incident, though everyone was on edge with regard to the children. The Philadelphia coven suffered through a visit from two seers bent on locating us, but no one was permanently harmed, thank heavens. March was far more hectic, and though I have heard the phrase that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, this year it was all beast. We received word from Lydia and John after they had been sent on their first mission regarding what they had discovered at the Order and their suspicions about its implications. Despite being cautious as to how and when they contacted us, it allowed the two seers to track our location. We left Tokyo with them nipping at our heels, but we had to put concerns about the seers aside to deal with a newly minted dark-magician that Lydia and John told us of shortly before their second mission. It led us to handling a threat in the form of an old rival of mine name Samuel, while the children suffered under their Uncle Wallace’s hands until an uprising in the Order’s ranks set them free.

April was spent recovering once we all returned to San Francisco. Robin had been injured during the escapade with Samuel and even with a generous amount of my blood to help him mend, his broken hand took time to heal. Lydia had been starved well beyond the point any year-old immortal should ever have to suffer through. John and Delilah’s trials had been more emotionally taxing than anything else, but even that left them overly somber. I turned John in mid April after he convinced me one final time that he was ready to be part of the night.

After that the world seemed to settle, though our family experienced more than a few changes of its own.

May. Flynn. As of today it has been one year and one week since Peter merged his personalities in the attempt to purge himself of Flynn’s voice and presence. I had wondered on occasion how I would look back at that date, whether the faint tinge of regret would fade after a year, after two, three, and more years,  or if it would remain. I had never admitted to Peter precisely how I viewed the assassin’s presence and since the merge seemed to put the final seal on the issue I doubted that I ever would . Both Peter and Robin had determined that bidding Flynn a permanent farewell was the best course of action, and to be honest I could not truly disagree with them. Flynn and Peter were condemned to half an existence, with Flynn determined to wrestle control as often as he could but lacking a purpose any time he achieved his momentary upperhand. Peter no longer needed the assassin to pawn his vampiric instincts onto and was ready to embrace the aspects of Flynn that he knew were his own, to become the vampire he had always been meant to be. Thus the merge happened, with my goodbye to Flynn remaining solely within my mind because no one, especially not Flynn himself, would have benefited from the indulgence. In those final moments especially, I regretted I could not even claim Flynn to be a friend because circumstances never worked out that way, but I had seen enough of him, thought of the future often enough before learning that the merge was possible, that I had known I could love him. What I failed to realize at the time, and what I know now, was that I could love him just as deeply as I love Peter. Flynn’s return has of course brought challenges with it, namely the same problem that had occurred before - two beings living half an existence through one body - as well as a few existential issues on my part. For the most part they have been resolved, though some temporarily. I dread looking toward the future with the thought in mind of this peaceful reprieve coming to an end.

June. Gabrielle. She is the reason that I can have both Peter and Flynn at my side without one being asleep. A damaged immortal, her maker had been cruel to her beyond tolerance and forced her to escape him by an extreme measure of torpor. I have only heard of such circumstances once before, and well know just how desperate of an option it is. Resisting her maker’s constant call to return to the real world has taken its toll on her, one I have been able to recently witness first-hand. She is like a child, a human child, in many ways. Moody. Impulsive. Prone to acting out. I had anticipated that having her as part of the family would be tasking, but when Flynn encountered the emotional hardships of being trapped between waking and sleeping when he did not occupy Peter’s body, I had no hesitation in seeing the matter resolved. We had originally thought that he would immediately vacate Gabrielle’s body after we dealt with her maker, but things did not work out that way. It may be selfish of me to admit I am rather glad that Flynn has been able to linger in her form, though I wish he could be more comfortable in it. Still, there are a few aspects of the female body that he has embraced with vigor, and it has helped smooth over the downsides.

April through July. John. I had forgotten how much pride I took in watching a new immortal spread their wings. Asserting my willingness to turn him in December is something I will always look back on with sense of simply being right. I am proud to be his maker and of the vampire he is growing into. My early concerns have all been firmly set aside, though a few new ones have risen to take their place. Most recently, my own desires. It is not difficult to imagine why I might find John attractive since one only has to look at my husband, his father, to see the similarities between the two. Physical appearance aside, John himself is far from unattractive to me, but I know that Peter’s son would not appreciate that manner of attention. Recent changes have made maintaining my resolve exceptionally challenging, though. John has grown more than comfortable with himself as a vampire in regard to feeding and it is now his other instincts, specifically the carnal ones, that have had me skirting a fine line. The first night I assisted him in seducing a human woman, I planned simply to leave him after we found a discreet spot to enjoy our meals. Flynn and Peter secluded themselves in an adjacent room with our own humans, but I took a moment to ensure John was steady enough to handle being alone with his, considering the deliberateness of his intentions. It is his ignorance of my desire for him that nearly broke my restraint that night. His inquiry about the femoral artery had my fangs itching for more than human blood. I wrestled with my self control as my fingers brushed my favorite spot to feed on the woman that was laid out to satisfy John’s needs. Worse, still, John did not wait for me to leave the room before sampling from her. He was surprised by the woman’s reaction when she moaned in pleasure, and I quickly explained to him that glamored humans typically found our bites pleasurable. It was when he reached for his clothing and shed his shirt that I could barely force myself out the door. I fell into a feeding frenzy with Peter and Flynn and attempted to push it from my mind. But when John returned to us, flushed from his kill and high on the experience, he commented on our state of affairs by saying that he was reassured knowing I’d had a reason behind my abrupt departure. I attempted to respond in a witty fashion, without any thought of probing behind it, that I had merely assumed he did not wish to share his meal. His unexpectedly genuine response was that if there was a next time, he wouldn’t object to sharing. Unable to help the mental images that thought conjured, the only statement I could manage to reply was that my inclination was to leave him to his own enjoyment of such things. For whatever reason he might have in allowing it, I know I can never indulge in a shared meal with the young man because it will not end well. In the meanwhile, I am glad that John is as settled as he is with his new existence. And though I have had occasions to criticize some of his behaviors, I think the bulk of such occurrences are now behind us.

July. Delilah. She disappointed me several weeks ago, and I make no apology for criticising her for her behavior. The reason she did not turn John herself, which perhaps seems more appropriate considering she is his lover, was due to the circumstance that makers and children cannot linger together for more than a few decades at a time. It is an instinctual impulse that my bloodline has always possessed, perhaps a side-effect of the strength of our maker bonds with our children - being able to have absolute control over another being can corrupt or at least give a sense of entitlement to even the noblest of immortals. I turned John for her as much as I turned him for himself, and one day I will not be able to watch over them as closely as I currently am able. My one concern that will never quite be settled is over the topic of John and Delilah blood-bonding. John is far too young as an immortal for such a thing, which he himself acknowledges. Delilah does appreciate the severity of such a bond but already has one in place with Robin. This perhaps seems hypocritical of me since I recently established a second blood bond of my own with Flynn but you must understand that for all the differences between my husband and my lover, all three of us have a similar approach to looking at life that makes handling the dual-bonds a trifle more simplistic than it would be otherwise. Delilah and Robin were well suited to one another when they began to bond, and it is not that John is not suited to her, but rather that John and Robin are vastly different creatures when it comes to looking at life. My oldest child is willful, though, and wants what she wants even if she has learned to temper some of her desires when it is prudent to do so. Such is why I was not insistent that she and John could not see one another in the interim, but I never would have allowed them to be alone together - newborn vampire instincts and the presence of a desirable, willing woman do not bode well for keeping things to a G rating. And I was proven right in my caution, as well as my doubts in regard to my eldest child being as prudent about her newly turned lover as I would have hoped. I accept that it was partly due to my decision to spend the night in Robin’s house that the incident occurred. But Lydia and Robin had excused themselves early, followed shortly by Delilah, and I assumed that she had retired to join them. It was not until the next evening when I spoke to Robin that I discovered he had not seen her since the evening prior. Admittedly, I was a confluence of anger and disappointment when I stormed into John’s old room and found my two children in bed together, but Delilah made the mistake of taking issue with my response and, as happens often as not with us, the confrontation became physical in an unpleasantly pointed manner. I did, however, overreact to one of the statements she issued in anger, which lead to me being too incensed to control my strength and resulted in her arm being broken. It was partly deliberate, which I am not proud of, but what finally reeled in my temper was Peter interjecting into our fight. He utilized his telekinesis to forcibly separate us, restraining me as well as Delilah in the process. I very nearly lashed out at him in response but pulled myself back before I could use his gifts, or mine, against him. Still, I did not apologize to Delilah. Or to John. And it did lead into John’s confession of his troubles regarding his carnal impulses, which I am now glad he can find other ways to resolve. But my eldest child and I were not on speaking terms for some time after that incident, and might still not be were it not for one other change in our family dynamic.

Mid July. Robin. I can’t entirely help the grin that invoking his name inspires, which perhaps begs for explanation. When Flynn returned, we became lovers that very same night. I confessed what had occurred to Peter the very next evening, after Flynn went to sleep in Peter’s body and Peter returned to the surface. Had my husband taken any issue with I had done, I would have immediately found some way of resolving it even if it had meant giving Flynn up for good (which would not have been easy after the whirlwind we’d found ourselves caught up in). But Peter was more than understanding in regard to Flynn, to the point of genuinely being encouraged that his former alter-ego was now able to experience true sentiment. I did struggle with how to view their places in my life for some time, but I knew, from that conversation with my husband onward, that Flynn was going to be a permanent part of our lives. Which meant we needed to tell the family. John was the first to hear the news and, after a night of observing him conversing with Flynn, I was bolstered by the knowledge that John did not begrudge Flynn’s presence at all since the introduction went hand in hand with the assertion that Peter was alright with how things were changing. The second step was informing Robin, Delilah, and Lydia, which we did during a family meeting called specifically for that purpose. Lydia reacted in a similar vein as John, and Delilah seemed intent on not holding any opinion other than simply acknowledging that she respected how Peter and I were handling things. Robin, however, began with denial which shifted to resentment bordering on outright hostility that Flynn had not only returned but had been invited to stay. It was the first time I had ever found myself at odds with my Irish brother, but I stood my ground in insisting that Flynn was here to stay whether he approved or not. The tension remained between us until the course of one evening led me to enticing Robin into the bedroom with Flynn’s added company in Gabrielle’s body. I thought, at the time, that perhaps it was a first step, albeit an odd one from an outsider’s view, toward Robin putting the past in its place. But things became even more tense, nearly awkward, from that night onward. Part of the reason, as I discovered later, was that Lydia had taken issue with him bedding Flynn in a female body, and it had led to Robin promising her that he would refrain from repeat performances with anyone other than she and Delilah until he regained perspective on his carnal appetites. My fight with Delilah happened in the meantime, and when Robin and I found ourselves needing to discuss concerns outside the family, the two unresolved issues between us compounded into a rather cold exchange. I thought he was still disenchanted with me in regard to accepting Flynn into my life, but the truth was much more humbling. We parted ways with my pride flaring in the background while he nearly lost his composure in a much more emotionally vulnerable sense - it was not until we were exchanging good-byes that I realized I was not detecting any anger or resentment from him as I would have expected, but the amount of blood we’ve exchanged is far too minimal for me to truly discern his emotions. Within minutes of him departing, though, he called me to request we continue our talk on the beach beneath the Golden-Gate bridge. An odd location, perhaps, but one that was private at that time of night. What he revealed to me is something I will keep to myself until he is ready to explain, which is even what I told Peter when he questioned me about it after I returned home close to dawn. - “It is not my story to tell.” - What this led to a few nights later, after I’d gathered information for Robin to pass on to Allen and Matthew during his upcoming trip to Philadelphia, was a rather pointed exchange in a very different sense. Robin and I were able to relax with one another for the first time in weeks and I very much wanted to fall back into our old habits of mutual appreciation, if only out of relief that I had not lost his esteem. But I knew of his promise to Lydia then, and did not wish to tempt him to break it. Thus, when I found myself pinned against my car door with Robin’s mouth on mine, it was the beginning of a revelation for both of us. We did not speak of it, did not even truly notice the difference in our intentions and actions until the night was over, but I found myself reliving the memory the next evening while I thought about Robin boarding a plane to Philadelphia. What I should perhaps explain before delving further into what changed is that Robin and I were entirely capable of enjoying each other’s company without any need for labeling as more than mutual appreciation. He has two female lovers and I was his male indulgence as it was convenient for us - mentions of Tchaikovsky were the extent of how we would taunt one another, after one of our early encounters instilled the reference in our minds - but that was the sum total of our ‘relationship’. Until that second night on the beach. We parted ways in lighter spirits, but it was the dwelling on the experience that began the realization of a shift between us. He called me from Philadelphia confessing to the same thoughts that I found myself harboring, and the conversations rounded out with a pointed confession from both of us. We loved one another. I still have yet to issue the assertion in his presence, since he traveled from Philadelphia to Ireland on holiday with Delilah and Lydia - though I have learned that Lydia remained behind temporarily - partly in an effort to place distance between Delilah and John while things settle once again. I spoke with Delilah the night after Robin and I had our candid talk, and mended fences as best I could so she would not begrudge Robin his newfound feelings.

Since then, things have been rather smooth, aside from the few nights when Gabrielle was allowed her first glimpses into reality. It was neither a success nor a failure, so I am still encouraged that it is possible for her to learn how to exist outside of her dream-world. Flynn has adopted her as his surrogate child, more or less, since he is no longer comfortable viewing her as a lover. Part of that is due to my place in his life, but it is also because he must care for her while teaching her, and that is difficult for lovers to do.

It amuses me to no end that after all these years of being a bachelor that not only do I have a husband, but a lover, a brother who is more than just a brother, and a family surrounding me. It is an odd nest that we have established, but one that I treasure each and every moment that passes. Our lives may not be simple ones but they are certainly full, and I would not trade any of the moments of the past year for all the riches and worldly possessions on this mortal coil. I have love. I have a home. And I am eager to see the future unfold as we catalog it through writing and poetry, music and moments. My family’s happiness is my own and I am utterly grateful for each of them, which makes me all the more thankful to Peter for sharing his life with me. The more we twine ourselves together, the more the world brightens around me. And I am finding it is far more than I could have ever wished for even in my wildest dreams.

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April172010

Urchin

Author’s Note: This is a story from many years ago, and is told from the perspective of a mostly non-consequential character. It’s mostly a journey through a bit of the larger world that is being developed around Peter and Victor. Enjoy.
Jimmy was going to be in trouble. He was rushing through the busy streets, dodging the denizens of the city including some that stood three times his size, ducking beneath shopkeepers’ outdoor tables while ignoring their shouts of protest, and trying not to run through any of the Pa’liri that had had arrived in the city yesterday when the Bruma portal opened to the Winter Realm. There was two reasons he was avoiding the Pa’liri - one, they got very angry if you did run through them because it was considered extremely rude for someone to occupy the same space as their incorporeal bodies, and two, the one time it had happened he’d had terrible nightmares for weeks on top of the fact that it had felt, really, really, creepy. Even creepier than the time he’d accidentally touched that Reaper crystal in Frau Grimmlu’s shop.

Thinking of Frau made Jimmy wish he could hurry faster.

“Ek mirn a rec’n pai!” The shouted warning broke Jimmy’s concentration and he turned his head to find the source of the call. Unfortunately, it made him miss the fact that a frostwyrl had walked in front of him. He barreled into the small creature and found himself skidding to an ungraceful halt with his cheek burning on the pavement. Loud squawking with a backdrop of laughter assaulted Jimmy’s ears and he felt himself blush furiously. “Gomen gomen!” he said as he pushed himself to his feet since it was the only language he knew that was close to something a frostwyrl could understand. 

But it wasn’t in the mood to be placated after having been plowed into by the kirin boy. “Ow, ow, stop, damn it, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jimmy covered his head with his arms and flattened his ears to protect them from the frostwyrl’s sharp beak. The thing wasn’t really trying to hurt him or Jimmy would really have been in trouble, but it was definitely letting him know it was annoyed. His tail flicked nervously as he waited for the creature to calm down and stop pecking at him. After it did, he watched it saunter off toward the nearest shop’s covered awning so it would be out of the way of the crowd while it straightened the feathers of its wings. 

Jimmy’s ears twitched as they stood back up and he was thankful the shopkeepers had stopped laughing. He knew most of them and they all knew him since the city of Atoranon had been his home all his young life and every morning since Frau Grimmlu had hired him as a shop hand brought him along this path through the marketplace. Maybe I’ll finally beg Frau to let me sleep in the loft over the shop. I know she said it’s no place for me but at least then she wouldn’t have to worry about me coming to work late.

His eyes went wide at the reminder and he took off once again at a run, chiding himself for dawdling in the market square with all the bustle of activity around him. He made it all the way to Frau’s shop with only two more close calls - one with a sulfrak demon who would not have been nearly as kind as the frostwyrl. Sorry, Frau, can’t come to work because i’m in the Helior dimension. Somehow Jimmy didn’t think Frau would have been all that understanding since she would have had to come get him. Or at least, he hoped she would come.

Pushing aside the ripple of fear spurred by the notion of being left to his own devices in a demon realm, Jimmy ran headlong into someone standing in front of the entrance to Frau Grimmlu’s shop. Unlike the frostwyrl, this person didn’t even budge when the boy collided with his legs, but the kirin lost his balance and stumbled to the side before sitting down hard with a loud, “oof!” Oh man…

He looked up. And up. But only because he was on the ground and the dark-haired stranger was still standing. Jimmy found himself being regarded with a blank expression, as though the man had no reaction to the small, feline boy who had all but bounced off of him. Realizing that this was probably a customer who would recognize as soon as they both walked into the shop that Jimmy worked there, the boy’s heart lurched into his throat as he heard Frau’s well remembered voice begin scolding him about his manners. What do I say? I don’t know what language he speaks? He’s not human, I don’t think. What…

The man was suddenly kneeling beside Jimmy. The boy’s eyes widened in alarm because his sharp eyes had not observed any movement and the man was now eye level with him. Jimmy, “eeped,” in surprise just as the man’s fingers swiped at his cheek. The boy watched in facination as the stranger brought his now blood-smeared fingers - Right, the pavement after the frostwyrl. Must not have healed yet. - toward his own face and sniffed in a deliberate manner. After another silent moment during which Jimmy was still unsticking words from his throat, the man licked his finger.

Jimmy watched in horror but the man’s expression changed from a blank slate to supressed grimace. He stood just as quickly as he’d knelt, leaving Jimmy bewildered.

“You work here, boy?” He spoke perfect Russian with a hint of an accent that Jimmy couldn’t place. It took him a second to realize the stranger was talking to him because the man’s eyes had returned to studying the door to the shop.  ”Y-yes. Yes. I’m Jimmy. I’m sorry I-” His attempted apology was cut short.

“Tell your mistress I need to be invited in.”

Confused, Jimmy began to push himself to his feet. “You don’t need no invitation, mister. Anyone can-“

“She will understand.”

A slight frown creased Jimmy’s features but he shrugged when it was obvious the man wasn’t going to go inside. “Suit yourself,” he said as he stepped forward to push open the door.

The artificial, amber colored light of the shop washed over him as he moved deeper inside. He glanced back once to see if the stranger had followed him in since he could obviously move faster than Jimmy could see, but even attuning his other senses to the task there was no evidence of the man now being in the shop.

He was definitely still outside but even there Jimmy detected nothing but a void. Which was weird, because any time before this, using his senses, he’d always been able to feel something. This was just a whole lot of nothing.

But there was a presence hidden somewhere in the nothing and it made Jimmy take the man’s request seriously for the first time. “Frau! I’m here! And there’s a customer!” Crystal chimes jingled as his voice reverberated in the air, filling the room with musical tones in response to the noise.

“Oh?” A paper thin voice drifted down from the top of one of the shelves and Jimmy had to look up to spot the minute shop-keeper. Her gossamer thin wings were as long as she was tall, but she was a lot shorter than even Jimmy. The boy was grateful that he was still growing while Frau was definitely an adult. “I don’t see anyone,” she stated as she made a show of glancing around the main floor of the shop, her eyes practiced in looking between all the displays that littered the floor, making a general maze out of the shop that most customers had to be careful of navigating.

Something tells me that guy won’t have that problem. ”Yeah, he’s outside. Said he needs to be invited in.”

Frau’s luminous, cerulean eyes focused onto Jimmy’s amythest irises. “Is that so. Did he give his name?”

“Nope,” the boy said, quickly looking away and moving towards the main counter of the shop. He ducked underneath so he could get to the employee cupboard where his smock and gloves were. “Just said you would understand.”

Frau stared at the door as though trying to see through it while Jimmy slipped the smock over his head and tied the strings around his waist. “He say anything else?” she asked.

“Ah…no…” Jimmy hesitated but quickly decided that he’d take the risk of Frau being upset about him for running through the market again. “I hurt my cheek on the way here ‘cause was running and fell and sort of had a disagreement with the pavement. The guy…well…it wasn’t healed yet…and he…um…”

Frau saved him from his nervous stumbling. “Did he taste it?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy admitted, blowing air out of his mouth in a relieved gust. “Yeah, but he made a face after.”

“Well of course he would,” Frau said mysteriously. “Alright. Guess I better see what he wants.”  She fluttered her wings to propel herself over towards the door. Tapping the crystal that would open it - since she couldn’t possibly do it manually - she looked outside into the darkened area outside the shop and gave the stranger an appraising up and down once-over. Jimmy noted he was standing in the exact same spot he’d been in, with the same posture, when the door had shut moments ago. For a second the boy thought Frau wasn’t going to ask him in but then he heard her sigh in that resigned manner he’d heard all too often whenever he put something away in the wrong place. 

“Come in, dearie,” she said to the figure outside, “I’m Frau Grimmlu, but I think you already knew that, Mister…?”

“Mason. Victor Mason.” The mans stepped smoothly into the shop, his movements taking him just inside the doorway and not an inch farther so he could look around with a hungry gaze. Jimmy decided he didn’t trust him because the guy was way too eerie, but Frau seemed intent on treating him just like any other customer.

“And what can I do for you today, Mister Mason?”

“Victor, please, Frau Grimmlu. I am grateful that you have allowed me into your crystalarium. You don’t recieve patronage from my kind very often, I understand.”

Frau smiled her saleswoman smile. “It’s been more than a few decades. Jimmy’s been here for two and he’s never seen one of you before. Don’t generally get many in this part of the city.”

The visitor smiled and something about it sent a chill up Jimmy’s spine but the Frau didn’t even bat an eye. Which was saying something because she had four of them.

“Yes, I know. It is unsettling for us to be in this area. By design, I’ve been told, but I can sustain for a time.”

“So I see,” Frau inclined her head towards a crystal that was spinning behind it’s display case. Jimmy started as he realized it was one for detecting the motion of ru energy.

Lifting an eyebrow, Victor stepped closer to examine the device. “Fascinating.” He stared at it for a long minute while the silence stretched into the shop. Frau’s wings fluttered in silence and Jimmy’s tail twitched nervously, but the stranger didn’t move a muscle.  When he spoke again it made Jimmy nearly jump out of his skin. “Send the boy away and I will tell you what I need.” The man turned his head and locked Frau’s gaze with his own. “I promise I am not wasting your time.”

Frau hesitated only briefly before nodding in agreement. She fluttered over to Jimmy and handed him the list of his responsibilities for the day, telling him to take care of all the things that would keep him outside of the shop before coming back.  He suppresed a sigh and nodded, taking the list obediently.

He finished all the errands in record time but the stranger was long gone when Jimmy returned. Frau was troubled but happy because she had been paid handsomely for two rare items that had been among the most expensive ones in her shop.

Later, in an idle moment, Jimmy stared into one of the now-empty display cases and shivered as he recalled the memory of what it had felt like to touch the Reaper crystal that had been inside.

I hope I never see that guy again, he thought to himself resolutely before turning back to his tasks.

Victor Mason left the Jan’Pur area of the city and did not look back. He never had occasion to return.

The little kirin boy was glad he got his wish.

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April32010

Vamp Till Cue: Cadenza Pt 1.3

Despite his personal distaste for Rupert, Victor had to admit that the Duke’s manner of visibly displaying his power was rather effective. Both lavish and opulent, a clear indication of the wealth and ego of the elder vampire in question, the mansion Victor arrived at served as both the Duke’s private residence and his political seat. Having secured himself a rental vehicle for the drive to the estate on the edge of San Francisco’s city limits, he found his attention wandering to the new levels of security that Rupert had acquired since the last time he’d had reason to visit. The guards at the gate had been vampires, as expected, but he would have had to have been a fledgling to miss the unmistakable odor of weres somewhere in the complex.

After being admitted onto the main grounds, Victor drove up the lengthy drive way to the main entrance, pulling between the twin rows of columns holding aloft the large overhang that protected visitors from the elements, had there been any inclement weather. He left the keys in the ignition as he opened the door and stepped out of the car, accepting the valet’s stub without bothering to make eye contact with the human boy who was more than used to that sort of treatment from vampires. There was not even a backward glance cast in Victor’s direction as he continued strolling through the main doors, which were opened for him by another pair of human eye-candies, and entered the reception area.

More security waited before the next set of double doors leading to the Duke’s throne room. Victor glanced around casually, his eyes noting the security cameras that were artfully hidden by hanging plants and decorative plastering. Rupert is getting paranoid. Or is there some other reason he feels the need to keep track of who comes and goes? The presence of two heartbeats in the room also caused him pause since he had been expecting more vampire security, not mortals.

Stepping forward, the guards took the queue to acknowledge him. “Name?” one of them asked gruffly. Victor drew in a breath to answer and reflexively raised an eyebrow. Not humans. Weres. Interesting. ”Victor Mason. You should find that Rupert is expecting me.”

The casual reference to their employer earned him a scowl but Victor merely grinned, holding the were’s gaze until the shifter gave him a pointed look before dropping his eyes to the clipboard in his hands. Locating his name, an affirmative grunt queued his associate to step forward. A more careful breath drawn in through his nose answered the question of what type of shifters he was faced with. Boars. More interesting. The second were motioned for Victor to hold his arms wide from his body and keep his feet apart. Supressing the need to roll his eyes, Victor complied. He was curious at the device the were produced from a pouch strapped around one of his thick legs, the handle well worn enough to mark it a tool of the trade. His discerning brown eyes flicked over the indicator lights set along the edge until recognition hit him. To any mortal it appeared to be one of the devices now commonly encountered at airport security checks, but Victor knew it was much more than that. Metal weapons like guns and knives were potentially lethal to a vampire, but it was supernatural threats that were truly cause for concern. Curious, he asked, “Has the device ever failed to detect a threat? Or mistakenly detected one?”

The were-boar snorted and ignored the questions, passing the device over Victor’s oustretched arms, then along his sides, and continued downward over his legs. The lights on the device changed and it made a faint noise at the interval around his left ankle, causing guard to frown. The stocky man shot Victor a suspicious glance and then inspected his scanner, but the lights switched back to the ‘all-clear’ mode without any adjustment necessary. The were partners exchanged a glance, both tense and seemingly waiting for something to happen, and did not relax until they’d finished their inspection. The device remained neutral for the rest of the duration, and they reluctantly stepped aside and allowed Victor through.

He thanked them in the form of a broad, feral grin.

Directly beyond the reception area was the large audience hall where Rupert held court. The duke was a fan of using modern human perceptions of vampires to properly intimidate the non-vampire creatures that paid him a visit. A century ago that would have meant satanic symbols and a blood-stained altar showcased prominently within the room. Now, though, it meant gothic ambiance accented by deep reds, black, and gray hues, leather garb, and elegant but uncomfortable - if you possessed a pulse - furniture. It had been decorated in that style more than five years ago and was more amusing than anything else, but Victor could have done without the noise that was coming over the speaker system placed around the room. Whatever it might have been, to him it did not qualify as music. 

Victor stepped into the room and began scanning the immediate area. He saw and scented humans and vampires, but no weres, which he took as a positive sign. Spying Rupert’s Master of Ceremonies on his second pass through the room, Victor moved through the crowd until he stood before the other vampire, and then greeted him.

“Good evening, Barret. How does the night find you?”

Barret was a thin, hawkish looking man with long, pale blond hair that brushed his shoulders and dark pigmented eyes that appeared nearly black. He had sworn loyalty to Rupert more than a century ago, having proven to possess the ability to remember nearly any face that he ever encountered. It was a useful trait for a Master of Ceremonies and since Barret lacked any real ambition of his own, the position more than suited him. “Victor Mason,” he intoned with a distinct lack of emotion in both his voice and expression. “Last visited July twenty-first of the year two-thousand and four. Year of rebirth, 1605. Rank Rocheim, Primael. Servant of King Reginald of Nevada. Currently empowered by King Derrick of California to survey our esteemed Duke Rupert’s dominion for the purposes of evaluating the local were population. An honor, sir.” Barret punctuated his litany with a nod of his head, keeping his chin tucked close for a moment in acknowledgement of Victor’s rank. Victor nodded back, and both straighted simultaneously.
“Perfect and succinct as ever,” Victor replied with a grin. “Tell me, is this a formal night or an informal one?”

“Informal, sir. His Lordship is taking visitors as they approach.” Barret hesitated, then asked, “Shall I inform him you are here? I will find you when he is ready to address you.”

Victor smiled tightly. “I am a busy man the same as the Duke, but if I have assurances from the Master of Ceremonies that my rank will be shown due deference even on a night of informality, I would gladly wait for a summons.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Barret’s features, but he issued a curt nod before stepping away to approach his master’s throne. With that reassurance, Victor stepped back into the crowd, avoiding Rupert’s gaze as the Master of Ceremonies whispered into his ear.

Having a few moments to himself, Victor surveyed the crowd with a bit more attention to details. He did not recognize any of the humans, but he’d expected that. Few ever stood out in his memory unless he’d desired them, but the bulk of the humans here belonged to one vampire or another and were generally untouchable in such a manner unless their master or mistress allowed it. Most lived fewer than a handful of years, anyway, so there really were none to recognize. You did not become a concubine pet of a vampire without certain realities imposed on you, the key one being that once you accepted the first bite, you could be claimed by the vampire and they could do what they pleased with you. Familiars were a different story, since those humans are kept around for a specific service or occupational consideration, but they were rarely brought to gatherings like this. Here, vampires showed off what they possessed, dressed themselves in the latest or currently accepted fashions, and flaunted precious jewels or other miscellaneous valuables. On more formal occasions, they truly out did themselves in the hopes of currying favor and earning recognition. Not all aristocrats and royals ran their courts in such a manner, but it was just as common as it was not. Rupert found it amusing to watch the games unfold around him so he encouraged it.

Still, for all the gaudiness, Rupert was a ruthless, cunning individual who had earned his rank as much as one could earn it in this country. It was the vampires of Europe that were the true power in world stage since the American kingdoms and queendoms were far too new to warrant any overwhelming level of respect, and Victor knew the attitude well because he had been involved in politics since well before coming to this country. But the vampires here were often just as old, some older, than their European brethren. Having been turned in 1605 while the current calender year was 2009 was something Victor himself was alway conscious of.

Especially in the court of a duke who was more than twice his age.

Victor’s eyes listlessly roamed the room, cataloging the vampires he recognized, stretching his recollection to count the ones he remembered being sworn to Rupert but were currently absent, and noting the new ones who either were freshly turned, visiting, or had recently taken residence in the Duke’s dominion. It was when he moved his gaze past one of the new faces that Victor was startled back into his thoughts by a pair of eyes connecting with his. A quick assessment revealed she was mortal, evidenced by the steady rise and fall of her chest. That fact intrigued him as he wondered whoe had claim to her. Any human who knew of vampires should also know that meeting their eyes was dangerous, yet she maintained eye contact steadily enough that Victor could have glamored her from across the room.

Raising an eyebrow, Victor felt compelled to study the being whose cobalt blue eyes pierced his own with an intensity that he’d rarely encountered from such a fragile creature. Her hair was a rich chocolate brown that cascaded in soft waves down to her slender waist, prompting his gaze to descend further. Long legs were spaced apart in a stance as wide as her shoulders, the posture fairly shouting that she was no subservient pet. At least not yet. Her jeans clung to her hips in a way that he could well appreciate, and he had no doubt that if she turned around they would reveal a near perfect, heart shaped bottom. A simple black blouse covered her upper body, the color matched by her calf-hugging boots. Meeting her eyes again after his inspection, he dismissed the notion that she seemed to be almost daring him to take issue with her for not lowering her gaze. 

If she were anything other than human Victor might have considered her dangerous.

Barret’s voice called out over the murmur of music and conversation, stating Victor’s name and rank in a slightly more formal summons then the rest of the evening had contained. Setting me up for attention, Rupert?

Disengaging his eyes from the mortal woman’s, Victor stepped through the crowd to the open area of the floor in front of the raised dais where Rupert sat surrounded by his own human pets. Dressed in a pair of leather pants and an burgundy red button down shirt that was only fastened shut from half-way down, the Duke’s skin was tawnier than most vampires because he himself was Hispanic in origin. Each one of his pets, male and female alike, were dressed in a filmy, black robe that draped delicately around them. Their bodies were all displayed in youthful perfection beneath the see-through material, the women’s supple firmness and the men’s toned forms taunting every vampire eye in the room. Satin ribbons were their only other adornments, a single strand of color that decorated the women’s hair and the men’s right shoulders, and Victor knew it was the only effort that would ever be made to distinguish them from one another despite any other physical differences. Blonde, brunette, red-headed, even one woman who had dyed her hair a ridiculous, unnatural blue made up the count of seven humans that were used for nothing more than their blood and their bodies, one for each day of the week. And each and every one had fresh, or barely faded fang marks displayed as prominently as their figures, Rupert’s mark of ownership. Several of them had a vacant, dreamy expression that indicated their master had near complete control over them.

Standing just a few meters away from the throne, Victor met Rupert’s eyes. Neither showed any reaction to the other and for them the seconds passing were tense ones. Before a stir could start at the lack of respect being shown, Victor bowed, one arm crossed in front of his waist as he bent forward and lowered his eyes.
When he straighted Rupert was grinning. “Sir Victor,” the Duke began after a short silence, “It’s been a few years since you graced my halls with your presence. How are things in Nevada?”

Victor smiled, the expression carefully devoid of any guile or cunning. “As comfortable as ever, your grace. I count myself fortunate that I may call it home.”

“Your King is fortunate to have your loyalty. As is mine, since I have been informed that you are here with my liege’s royal writ.”

“California is always more than generous when he treats with my sovereign. I was humbled that I might be of service to reciprocate such good will.”

“An admirable endeavor for one such as you. How long might we expect to boast your presence?”

“Until the King sees fit to dismiss me or request my expertise elsewhere in his borders.”

“You shall have to inform me if I may be of any assistance in your tasks, or if there is any information you might require”

“A thousand thanks, your grace. Should the need arise, I shall certainly ask.”

“See that you do,” the duke replied, his eyes suddenly cold. “I look forward to your reports, Sir Victor.” Rupert’s voice held a clear note of dismissal.

“I thank the Duke for his time and his notice,” Victor said, bowing once more though this time he did not lower his eyes. He straightened and turned on his heel, walking back into the crowd. A familiar face had been amongst the vampires here and Victor angled straight toward him, though he noted this was hardly a gathering either of them could relax in.

Will leaned against the back wall, arms crossed over his chest. “That went well,” he offered as Victor approached, “considering you got here late.”

“I did not wish to rush my meal,” Victor offered in reply, refraining from glancing around in response to the eyes he could feel lingering on him from around the room. “Do you have a business here tonight, or are you merely paying your respects?”
“I already talked to Rupert, so Jackie and I are free to leave.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “She’s here?”

Will grinned, and raised his chin as he looked past Victor’s left shoulder. “Come on over, sweetheart.”

Turning to his left, Victor spotted the wisp of a girl that he’d walked by without a second glance. She held her arms across her body, hugging herself more that affecting any sort of posture. Her pale green eyes glanced in his direction, then flicked around her, and finally lingered on Will as she stepped close to him. Will instinctively draped an arm around her shoulders but it only seemed to make her even more tense. 

Still, Will beamed. “Victor, this is Jackie Adaire. Jackie, this my friend Victor Mason.”

Victor smiled his disarmingly charming smile and nodded at her in greeting. “Good evening, Miss Jackie.”

The corners of her mouth quirked upward slightly, but that was all she could manage in reply. Will made a quiet comment about her being shy in the crowd, and it perhaps being a good idea to take their leave. Victor agreed, and they subtly intimated meeting at Will’s home. The antebellum vampire departed first with his Child after the valets retrieved the familiar BMW. Victor watched them drive away as he waited for his rented red Mustang to be brought up.

His thoughts spun through the possibilities of what might be going on in Rupert’s duchy, the reason behind the were’s, the want to keep tabs on what Victor might be doing while he was here, and how Felix Chekhov tied into everything. Were’s and vampires had not had any physical contentions in years, decades, in this corner of the world. Something about all the shifter’s activities and interests struck him in a very odd manner, though he could not precisely say why apart from the obvious. Lack of physical contention did not often lead to alliances, and though Rupert’s were presence was visibly small, Victor knew what he was smelling and what his gift was telling him.

The engine of the car purred invitingly as the valet pulled up a second time, and Victor was quickly inside as soon as the boy vacated the seat. Keeping his gift muted, he risked a quick peek at the life traces around the estate. Vampires, were’s, and a one trace in particular that nearly made him forget he was trying not to set off any of Rupert’s alarms for detecting the supernatural.

Closing down his gift, he shifted the car into drive and began the trip to Will’s home as he wondered what cobalt blue eyes might have to do with the mystery of a vampire duke and a were-bear mobster.

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March292010

Poet of my World

I reach out across the sheets,
love, instinct, need,
guiding me to touch, to caress,
my last thought before dreaming,
that I may know you are real.

Memories are never enough.
I have to taste you, feel you,
merge and move with you,
each night, every night
because I need you.

You are the keeper of my heart,
the mate of my soul,
my match, my better, my equal.
All that I am not, or wish I was,
I see in you.

I am your strength.
You are my hope.
Happiness I dared not imagine,
until you loved me,
and there was poetry in my world.

I reach out across the sheets,
love, instinct, need, 
guiding my touch, my caress,
to my first thought upon waking,
that I may show you I am real.

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March122010

Changes on the Wind - Uncertainty

Author’s note: This takes place in the month of May, 2009. Jules and I are still working out the amended dates to everything but, since this turned out pretty well, we thought we’d give everyone a more concrete teaser to how Peter and Victor came together. *grins wickedly* Enjoy.

___________________________________

“Did I…”

Peter looked at me, though I only noted it in the periphery as I willed myself to keep my attention on the road. “Did you what?”

‘Did I do something that made you uncomfortable?’

I kept my face expressionless but shook my head. “Nothing, brother. I don’t wish to pry.”

He fell silent again and I couldn’t begin to guess what was going through his mind. We had hunted tonight, like we had on many nights prior, but this had been distinctly different. I’d needed to feed and had been of the mind for taking more than just blood, realizing I’d been neglecting my needs overly much recently. ‘It’s been since Trisha left. While I still enjoy sex simply to have it, she showed me the difference between fucking and making love. The two simply don’t compare, and seduction has lost its appeal to me. At least in part.’ So I had planned to venture out to indulge myself, intending to pick up a meal to sample both their body and their blood and lose myself in being a vampire in more than just name. I’d gotten as far as slipping my coat on until I paused to wonder, ‘Man or woman tonight?’

An involuntary shiver had passed over me. ‘Not a man. I know whose face I would be looking for.’ But the thought lingered.

Peter and I had been spending an inordinate amount of time together. When he had first arrived back in San Fransisco, I had wondered if even the haven of Nocturnal Embers would be denied me if he still felt at odds with me over what had happened with Keira. The first time I saw him there, just a few days after Amy had told me he was back and had asked after me, I all but ignored him as I took up residence at the bar and ordered a glass of blood. While I watched Tony prepare it, heating it to 98.6 degrees or as close as the contraption known as a microwave could achieve, I reflected on my new habit. Not for the first time, I acknowledged it was a pitiful state of affairs that I was avoiding hunting. But with Trisha so fresh in my mind and the ghost of memory of the final taste of her blood still clinging to my tongue, I didn’t want fresh, meaningless, encounters to replace it. Hers had been the last blood I’d consumed from a live source, and so long as I could cling to that reminder of her, I intended to do so. Even if it make seeking my sustenance in packets rather than pulses.

I’d been sipping at the blood and half listening to the conversations around me when he approached. Only Peter wore wing-tipped shoes and they made a distinctive noise as he walked across the hardwood floor, so I did not need to turn around to know it was him. ‘Perhaps he’s only ordering himself a drink…’

He settled onto the bar stool next to mine.

I sighed inwardly, resigning myself to whatever the conversation would hold. “Good evening, Master Poet.”

“Good evening, Victor.” He answered Tony’s silent question with a nod and the bartender moved to leave us to our conversation while he prepared a fresh drink for Peter. “I heard about Trisha,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

‘Being sincere, Peter?’ “It was just last week,” I responded vaguely, uncertain what else to say.

He nodded as he procured his wallet and slipped Tony a money note to pay for his drink. They engaged in a short exchange and then Tony moved off again. Peter sipped from his scotch and I took another draw from my glass of blood. He glanced at me in something of an deciphering manner as his hand lowered back to the counter. “How have you been faring?”

I forced myself to stay relaxed, keeping my eyes on my drink, and tried not to question his motivations for the inquiry. “I’m maintaining.”

Peter frowned slightly and turned his attention to the amber liquid in front of him. I found myself evaluating him, still uncertain what he was hoping to gain out of this conversation, when it finally dawned on me that the man I called Poet might not have ulterior motives. My expression softened. “What brings you back to San Fransisco?”

He turned to me and I met his eyes, trying to convey that I appreciated him talking to me but had no intentions to discuss Trisha. Whether he understood or not, I do not know, but he didn’t bring her up again and yet we talked until Tony began closing up the bar around us. The night had seemed to pass in a blur, with our discussion ranging topics as wide and varied as any conversation I’d ever engaged in. We bid each other farewell after walking out the door, and I returned home in much less of a melancholy mood than I’d begun the night.

It didn’t last of course, at least not that first night. When I settled in for sleep, my bed still scented with Trisha’s steadily fading aroma, my thoughts turned back to what I had lost. And the next night when I rose, my first thoughts were of her. It was not that I’d put my life on hold or that I could think of nothing else. I still performed my duties for Rupert and the King, and not all of my idle moments were spent turned inwardly. I still avoiding hunting, but somewhere over the next week part of the reasons had changed. Trisha’s memory still haunted me, and I feared dulling it, but I came to enjoy the nights where I would venture to Nocturnal Embers. Because each time I did, Peter was there.

The younger vampire was an engaging man. He was clever and witty, and had a rather unique view on immortality. If Peter had known just how much of himself he was revealing to me in our conversations I wonder if he might have balked, because it did not take long for me to realize that for as comfortable as he seemed in his own skin there were still aspects of himself and his instincts that he did not know how to deal with. Still, it did not take long for our talks to turn to hunting, and the fledgling thought of perhaps finally being ready to release that particular shackle to Trisha’s ghost entered my mind.

“Perhaps we could hunt together.”

I honestly don’t remember which of us spoke the idea aloud first, because it seemed we were both considering the notion. It was on one of the nights where we’d gone for a stroll rather than linger in the bar, a habit that had become more and more frequent the more often we spoke to one another. On that particular evening, I was simply thankful that we were close at hand to the beings that would be our prey, rather than in the middle of Nocturnal Embers surrounded by names and faces that were all familiar. ‘Is it odd to think that I consider them…people?’ I suppressed a chuckle. ‘It appears Will was not the only one to go native.’ Trisha’s memory brightened in my mind, more distinct than it had been in the past few days. ‘Yes, dearest. I have not forgotten.’

‘…not forgotten…’ A dread feeling twisted in my gut and I reached out for the memory of her, emblazoning it on my mind as though I had physically drawn Trisha in for an embrace that would have been a desperate cling, a silent plea for her not to leave. The pain of it hit me full force for the first time since waking that fateful night, and I once again felt the impotent rage, the bitterness, and the fear. My mind ran through the details once again of what would happen now that she was gone, why I was blocked from doing anything to bring her back despite knowing that she still lingered on the mortal coil. She had been claimed by another vampire, one who I would have willingly contested if there was any hope that I could have left the encounter alive. I had to believe he was treating her well, that her abandonment of me was enough to appease him after the weeks he’d spent trying to convince her to leave me. He had always treated her well in the past though his jealousy had been thinly veiled when he discovered our relationship. It was the words from the note she’d left on her pillow, the only token I had, that echoed in my thoughts as though mocking me for the fact that I had lost her to someone else. “I care for you too much to let anything happen to you. I could not live with myself if that were to happen. Please take care of yourself.” So distant. Because he had already won. Trisha had stayed one final night and made love to me one last time, but she must have already known she was leaving. If she gave any sign, I had not noticed, though I’d played the memories back again and again searching for one, reliving the experience of the final time she shared her body. Her blood. And I felt as though a knife was plunged into my chest at the fresh recollection of allowing her to share my blood that night as well.

My thoughts ran the gamut of anger and loss while Peter and I were seeking our victims, neither of us of the mind to engage in much conversation as we both turned our senses to the task at hand. When we chanced upon a couple engaged in an illicit encounter in the middle of the Golden Gate Park, I barely paused to look for Peter’s consent before immersing into the need to destroy something meaningful. I moved across the expanse that separated us from our prey as a blur, relishing my vampire speed for both the exhilaration of it and the terror it would inspire when I suddenly appeared behind the man while he exerted himself. Neither he nor his partner had much of a chance to observe me before I tore the man away from his lover’s embrace and silenced him forever with a feral bite that nearly crushed his windpipe. It was an inelegant, messy kill, one I insured was full of pain while he wriggled in my arms. He gurgled as he tried to scream, but the woman made up for his lack. Peter was there suddenly and silencing her with his own bite, though he was more refined about it than I had been. When we finished, the bodies dropped to the ground and I found myself looking heavenward. I held my arms wide even as the last drops of blood stained my mouth, forgetting for a moment where I was, who I was with, and simply turned inward to embrace all that it meant to be vampire, that made this life worth living. The thrill of the hunt. The mastery of our domain. The rush of power that came from those moments where we were both God and the devil personified in a mortal’s world, when we took what we needed and left discarded shells behind. No remorse, no regrets. Only exultation as my entire being shouted to the heavens in defiance and affirmation.

Not a single sound escaped my lips though I felt as though I had granted vocal accompaniment to the moment. Uncertain of how much time had lapsed, I lowered my hands to my sides and took in a deep, steadying breath, licking the remnants of my meal from my lips as I grounded myself once more. My heart might ache and my soul might mourn, but I was still here. I would move forward. And perhaps I would even find meaning in life again.

It didn’t take much longer after that for me to realize that the meaning I was searching for was being fulfilled by an unexpected source. Looking back, especially as it became less common for my first thoughts after rising each evening to be immediately of Trisha, I should have realized it as it was happening. But I shall have to plead ignorance as to the affairs of the heart. Trisha was the first person I had ever considered myself in love with, and yet I had never spoken the words to her. I’d spent many idle moments spent wondering if I should have, if it would have made a difference. Eventually I decided it had been simpler this way, since it allowed her to leave with marginally more ease. Still, looking back, I could not deny that had been how I’d felt. For the first time in four centuries I had known what it meant to love someone, to connect with another person in that manner that is improbable and poignant all at once. And as the weeks continued after she disappeared from my life, I realized I was feeling it again.

For Peter.

There was no moment of lightning revelation, no sudden need to exclaim it as a confession. It had been a gradual shift in our dynamic, a subtle progression of sentiments that marked his position in my life from friend, to brother, and finally to the man I loved. I engaged in more than a few bitter moments, in the earliest days of recognizing it for what it was, that it was not meant to be. While I did not doubt that Peter felt something for me in return, a fact I couldn’t deny by the simple facet of the way he looked at me when he called me brother, I knew that he was still clinging to the mortal mindset of relationships and sexual proclivities. Simply put, Peter cared for me but I doubted that his care would stray to romantic love. Brotherly love we had, though neither of us ever acknowledged it as such in so many words. But anything else was a fantasy on my part, or so I convinced myself, partly so I did not have to fully consider the implications of what it meant to love another vampire. It was easier, this way, to simply be able to love him and enjoy his company in a platonic sense with no complications. It was enough.

Though I feared the day he would meet someone else and fall in love again.

Still, as I considered the hunt I was about to engage in, that I wanted more than blood coursing down my throat, I wanted a body moving under mine, my thoughts strayed to Peter in a very graphic sense. I cut myself short before I delved too deeply into the imagined encounter, knowing that I was tempting fate the more I considered him in that manner. One of these nights, when we were hunting, perhaps I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from the impulse to touch him. Or the next time we chanced to talk of music…

I frowned. My eyes lowered to the keys now in my hand and I turned that possibility over in my mind. It bothered me to be so fearful of myself around him, to worry for destroying the relationship we had if I went too far and he reacted poorly. I’d never been one to let my fears rule me, part of what had taken me so long to honestly admit to my feelings in regard to losing Trisha. And despite the valid reasons behind this particular worry there was something within me that sneered at the fact that I was allowing myself to live in such a state.

Feeling daring, I transferred my keys to my off hand and withdrew my phone from my pocket. Peter’s number was on speed-dial but I could have programmed it from memory. It only rang twice before I was greeted with his voice on the other end.
<div style=”margin-top: 0px;margin-bottom: 0px”>”Hello, brother,” he said.

‘Was that eagerness I heard?’ ”Hello, brother. How does the night find you?”

“Well, for the most part. I have simply been meandering about the house, attempting to settle on what to do for the evening.” I was only half listening to him as I considered how to broach the subject, denying to myself that I felt any anxiety over what the night would entail. Peter’s voice interrupted my circling thoughts. “How does the night find you?”

I exhaled slowly, not even realizing that I’d drawn in that much of a breath. “Well, although I’ve had a frustrating evening.” ‘A string of frustrating evenings,’ I amended silently, thinking of the last two nights I’d spent in the presence of Rupert’s court. Remembering the reason I’d been of the mind to want more than blood, the words came more easily. “I was actually thinking about indulging a hunt, brother, and thought I would see how you felt about joining me.”

“I was actually planning on much the same thing,” Peter admitted, and I thought I detected amusement in his voice, “You should know I would hardly refuse to accompany you.”

“Yes, I know. It is…” I trailed off for a few seconds. “Brother, I have a question for you. Have you ever indulged a bit more in your hunts?”

“Indulged?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yes.” I chuckled, opting to be more direct. “Are you in the mood for a little seduction to find our meals this evening?”

Peter fell silent and I wondered what he might be thinking. Truthfully, the reason I had never broached this subject with him before was only in part due to my fears of what might happen while I was caught up in carnal impulses in his presence. I also knew this was one of the aspects of himself that he warred with, though he’d never openly admitted it. Being a young vampire lent itself to such crisis of conscience, and I knew better than some that Peter’s conscience had a very real antagonist that had nothing to do do with his vampire instincts.

“Yes,” He said, though his voice wavered. But it seemed as though the first tentative agreement allowed him to consider the matter more resolutely, because his next words were much more assured. “Yes, it has been a while, but I used to partake of such a thing rather frequently.” I grinned despite myself, hearing his growing confidence lend itself to a devilish undertone I’d never before heard in Peter’s voice. “You wish to indulge in a bit of mischief?”

I nodded, still grinning. “Yes, brother, I think mischief is the operative word.”

“Come by and pick me up. Heaven only knows I could use it right now.”

I could only heartily agree.

The experience was a thing of beauty. I had never seen Peter so confident of himself, or so in touch and accepting of what he was as we scoured the crowd at a local club for two women fit to be a banquet to our desires. We weren’t so much stalking or hunting prey as we were playing a game whose odds were stacked in our favor. “It has been a long time since I have tasted wanton lust in their blood,” he admitted again with a glint in his eyes as we surveyed our prospects. “As I recall, this is a feat very easily accomplished.” I grinned back at him in a wicked manner and responded. “Yes, lust is quite simple to entice, brother. I think the pair of us will manage to find something for both our tastes.”

There were enough gazes exchanged between Peter and I in the brief bits of conversation we engaged in that I knew he was eager to see this through to the end. I spotted a pair of women dancing together and pointed them out to him, watching for his reaction to see if he approved. What he said in response nearly set my body on fire. “Oh, her thoughts are sinful, brother,” he said, lust dripping from his gaze and saturating his words. “Her companion’s as well. They came out tonight desiring a bit of action.” He turned to look at me. “What do you say we give it to them?” I stared at him hungrily, and not merely from the contents of his words. It had never occurred to me that Peter could read his victim’s thoughts in such a manner, or that he would be willing to do. It was such a deliciously wicked notion that I found myself digging my nails into my palm to prevent myself from saying or doing anything that would betray my reaction. “I think that sounds like a marvelous idea, brother,” I finally managed to say with marginal calm. “Perhaps we should go introduce ourselves?” He grinned back at me in an equally wicked manner. “After you.”

It had been simple to lure them into our arms on the dance floor, though I had half a moment of wondering, not for the first time, how on earth the noise being pumped through the stereo system could be termed music. We hardly had to glamor them at all before asking them to accompany us to somewhere more private. The club was set up like many popular ones with a few rooms set aside for private parties, and another quick glamor to the pair of guards responsible for keeping the area closed off to uninvited guests achieved the goal we sought. A private room, to ourselves, with our temporary companions in tow.

I wasted no time in starting to work on the woman. Glamoring her so she would not fear my fangs, I finally allowed them to descend and it throttled my need to a dire urgency. My hands were on her, clothing flew, and all the while, I watched Peter from the corner of my eye. He’d shoved his woman against the wall and my eyes drank from sight as she pushed his shirt from his shoulders, exposing the topography of his muscular frame. My woman reached for my belt as I saw his hands move over his partner’s body, and watching him planted the thought of wondering what it would feel like to be the one beneath his touch. I shuddered and turned away, focusing my attention to the body under mine. The scents of blood and lust permeated the room, and I sank into the experience. My fingers and mouth were swiftly occupied but as I drank a mouthful of blood from her breast, my attention turned entirely to the bodies at a distance when my eyes caught movement across the room as they shifted onto the ground. Peter was poised above his conquest for what might have only been a second, but it was more than long enough to allow my eyes to dance over the view as I saw him in his full glory. I groaned, this time imagining what it would feel like to lay my hands to him even as he entered her in one solid thrust. I chanced watching for just a few moments longer before forcing myself to finish what I’d started. My own coupling with the woman I’d seduced was forceful, needy, a release of pent up tension from all the emotions and desires surging through me. I didn’t notice the moment Peter finished because I was wrapped up in my own experience, but when I moaned out, my climax bringing at least a modicum of relief, I swear I saw Peter staring at me while I drank my victim into oblivion.

The next moments were hazy as I came down from the high. When I finally trusted myself to look at him without wanting to pin him to the wall, I was startled at the sight. Peter sat on his haunches, his face in his hands, and to all appearances looked distressed. If I hadn’t just fed my normally pale visage would have turned all the paler because the sight unnerved me too much to even admire the unimpeded view of his body. His hands dropped and he finally looked back at me, meeting my eyes with strain etched on his features. I raised an eyebrow as he stood, both hoping and fearing what he might say to me. But he remained silent, the only response a weak grin that I know was offered entirely for my benefit. We both dressed quickly with an unmistakable air of tension in the air that had nothing to do with the sexual. And of any potential answer to the question of what might be wrong, I had to wonder if Peter had seen my desire for him and was put off by it.

We disposed of the bodies, only conversing enough to work together to complete the task. The drive back to his home, where I would drop him off before continuing to my own place, was silent as the grave. A marked difference to our usual manner of conduct since conversation between the two of us was typically more difficult to stop than it ever was to start. I queued music to play over the sound system though it offered none of its usual comfort since it merely made me think of three nights ago when Peter had visited my home for the first time. I’d shown him my music collection, and had even played for him, but while I could not put words to what I sensed from him, for a few fleeting moments that night I had allowed myself to wonder what it would be like to truly love him, to hope that he might love me in return. I had wondered at the many gazes he’d exchanged with me, the things I thought I might have seen in his eyes. Now, though, I had to assume that I had been entirely wrong.

‘Was I?’ I was so used to relying on my own observations, trusting my judgement to read people, that it was second nature to read a situation and treat my conclusions as fact. But with Peter, I had to admit, I was hopelessly inept when it came to reading him because I didn’t know where my perceptions were influenced by my feelings, if I might be seeing things I only wished to see. It was possible I was wrong on all counts. ‘If that is so, then what is going on?’

When we neared Peter’s house I finally broke the silence by clearing my throat, not trusting my voice. “Did the hunt bother you, brother?”

Peter had been looking out the window, but his gaze shot over to me with the question. “No,” he said. “Heavens no, not at all. I quite enjoyed myself, actually.”

I processed that and it seemed he meant it sincerely. “Did I…” I cut myself short, my grip on the wheel tightening unconsciously before I forced myself to relax. Inwardly, I cursed at myself for even allowing those two words to be spoken aloud.

Peter was still looking at me, though I only noted it in the periphery as I willed myself to keep my attention on the road. “Did you what?”

I kept my face expressionless but shook my head and attempted to smile. “Nothing, brother. I don’t wish to pry.”

The drive continued in silence but I felt as though there should be a dirge playing somewhere in the background. We arrived in front of Peter’s home and I merely halted the car in the road, not bothering to pull in the driveway lest I be tempted to linger.

He spoke again. “I had a good time tonight, brother. Honestly, I did.” Peter’s voice held a note that sounded somewhat desperate, or so I thought. ‘I only know that something changed tonight. And I dread that it marked the end of our simplicity.’ 

Still, looking at Peter, I detected no malice, no revulsion. He appeared genuine, and somewhat worried for what I might be thinking. ‘Or is it that he is worried that I will be disappointed he does not look at me in that way?’ My smile came much easier, because that was at least one worry I could ease. ‘I would never wish you away, Peter. Whatever this is, whatever place I occupy in your life, I am content. I expect nothing.’ I nodded at him. “I did as well. Take care, Poet. And thank you for the company.”

He nodded as well. “I appreciated the company as well, Maestro.” His gaze lingered on mine as his last word, the name he’d gifted to me three nights ago, echoed in my mind. Something hung in the air between us for a long moment.

But then he moved, and was out of the car. The door shut before I could make a fool of myself and call him back.

I mentally slapped myself as I put the car back into drive, lifting my foot from the brake and allowing the vehicle to take me further away from temptation.

‘Changes on the wind. Have I lost something again? Or gained?’ I turned the corner, resigning myself to uncertainty. ‘Perhaps I could finally tell him…’ That thought lingered longer than any other. I sighed.

‘Why are emotions so bloody complicated?’

February282010

Vamp Till Cue: Cadenza Pt 1.2

It was much darker in the side street but Victor’s eyes adjusted rapidly like the hunter he was. He glanced at Sam and gave the stoic bouncer a nod before a faint whistle sounded from down the block, prompting Victor’s gaze to turn in that direction. Will beckoned him over with a sideways tilt of his head and it took only a second for Victor to be standing beside him.

Will grinned, amused at the display of speed. “Enjoying your old age?”

Victor chuckled. “There are several perks to the accumulating years.”

Nodding, Will turned to walk at a leisurely pace towards a more populated street, moving away from the supernaturally tinged area into a part of the city that was overrun by humanity. Thankfully with it being March and not precisely weather for being outdoors, there were not many people on the sidewalks. Victor casually strolled alongside but kept his senses on alert since it was possible that Felix would be foolish enough to consider retaliating. At the moment, though, there was no hint of any were scents on the wind.

Will broke the silence by producing a keyless entry remote to a silver BMW parked along the street. Victor looked over it both in admiration for the simple luxury and amusement at his friend’s practicality. “Honestly, Will, would it hurt you to indulge a little now and again?”

“I don’t have anything to compensate for by driving around in a flashy Mustang like some people I know,” he replied with humor in his voice, opening the driver’s door.

Victor obligingly moved around to the passenger side and smoothly slid into the car as Will did the same. The doors swung shut. “Matty says hello.”

The younger vampire sighed. “You remember her?”

“Yes and no. I remember you telling me you’d hired her but I never met her.” He glanced at his friend. “She seemed disappointed you had left.”

Will turned the keys in the ignition and distracted himself from answering until he’d pulled out into traffic. At the first red light he said, “I made the mistake of feeding from her and had to let her go.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “She’s human.”

The car started moving again and Will’s eyes remained fixed ahead on the road, navigating the city streets. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Victor settled back into the passenger seat, relaxing. “In all the years I’ve known you, Will, I never thought you would be one to go native.”

Will snorted derisively. “I know what I am, thank-you-very-much. Haven’t forgotten, wouldn’t want it to change.” He fell silent for a moment. “It’s different here. Rupert has a good thing going, letting that bar exist.”

“I never understood it,” Victor confessed with a hint of disapproval.
“Well of course you wouldn’t.”

A raised eyebrow was directed toward Will in response.

Will gave his friend an evaluating look, shifting gears and speeding up quickly as he navigated the car onto the highway. “You don’t respect humans.”

Victor laughed, genuine amusement rippling through him until he noticed that Will was maintaining a sober look. Curious, he quieted and thought on what his friend had said. “I see no need to, at least not on the whole. Most are worthless beyond their value as a meal.”

“Is that really true?” Will challenged, the car speeding up again as he passed a slower moving vehicle. “If they’re only food, why is it that a place like Nocturnal Embers brings them in and lets them get to know our faces? Why are they capable of looking at us as people?”

Hesitating in his response, Victor waited just long enough to ensure Will’s question was serious. “They believe a fantasy if that is how they think of us.”

“Are we nothing but beasts then?”

Turning in his seat to square Will in his sights, Victor replied, “No. But tell me, Will, rather than engaging in this ridiculous back and forth, what is that has your panties in a twist? You seem to have dubbed me a spokesman for vampire kind and I would like to know why.”

The agitation in Victor’s tone prompted Will’s abrupt, terse, and unexpected answer to fly from his lips. “I turned someone.”

The elder vampire blinked, replaying the phrase in his mind until he was certain he had heard it correctly. “The woman you’re taking me to meet?”

Will nodded confirmation, and glanced toward his passenger as he slid the car back into the right lane. “It wasn’t planned. She was marked for turning and Rupert dumped her on my lap because I had no progeny.”

“And it’s suddenly made you question our nature?”

“No. Not…really.” Will sighed as he turned the car onto an exit ramp. Victor glanced at the navigational signs beyond the windows of the car and noted they were heading toward Will’s home. “It’s just that she’s been asking me a lot of questions. Sometimes I don’t have the best answers.”

Victor thought of his own Child, the only one he’d turned in four centuries of being an immortal creature. For vampires like he and Will, bestowing the change on a human was not something either would do lightly. If he had to be honest, Victor did not think Will would have turned someone at this point in his life had the Duke not issued such a command. Something about that knowledge perked his interest, and in a distant corner of his mind he began wondering what Rupert’s reasons might have been to ask this of Will. “When?”

He noticed the car accelerating as Will answered, “Four months ago, just a little before Christmas.”

“Did you inter yourself with her?”

“For a day,” Will answered. “She rose on the third night.”

Silence stretched between them for a few minutes, interrupted only by the purr of the engine and the sounds of pedals being depressed while gears shifted as Will navigated them through the upscale-residential community where he had his home.
Makers were bonded to their children from the first moment the Child rose, provided that the ritual had been completed properly. Going to ground with the body you had exsanguinated before gifting your blood, or lying with them in any sepulture, for at least one day following the act that would turn them into an vampire forged what was commonly referred to as the Maker bond. Multiple days spent with your soon-to-rise Child would make the bond even stronger, resulting in various other effects on the being you had sired. Victor himself had spent just one day with his Child, and so their bond was a comparatively weak one. She had been much more headstrong and independent because of it, and he’d had to go to great lengths to control her when circumstances dictated that he needed to employ their bond in such a manner. Will, having spent only one day with his Child, would potentially face the same problems if his Child did not take well to immortality.

But it was nothing insurmountable.

“What is her name?” Victor asked, finally breaking the silence as the car turned onto the street he recognized as the one leading to Will’s home.

“Jacklyn. Jackie, actually. She says she might change it.”

Victor had to chuckle. “Already?”

Will grinned, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “How long did it take Delilah to decide to change hers?”

“You mean the first time?” Victor asked dryly. He knew the answer readily but for a moment dwelt on the memory that had spurred the initial temptation for his Child to redefine herself. “She was 28 years immortal when she gave up her human name. But she altered it rather continuously over the next seventy years. I was pleased when she settled on Delilah, and so long as she has her business, I have her assurances that I can consider it permanent.”

The car came to a complete stop after they pulled into the driveway and Will quickly shut the car off. Neither vampire made a move to exit the car, though, and instead gazed in an unfocused manner at the house filling the windshield’s view. “You’re lucky. You have her now and all the trials are behind you.”

Victor smiled softly. “Yes and no. I am glad that I have her because she has proven to be the only constant in my life over these past two-hundred-thirty-six years since I turned her. But we still have our trials, and it seems that each time I have occassion to entertain a visit from her we end up arguing.”

“Like a married couple,” Will grinned, leaning forward to cross his arms over the steering wheel before resting his chin on top of them. When he next spoke, his head bobbed oddly up and down and Victor had to suppress a snicker of amusement. “How long did it take until you knew she would make it?”

The question sobered him instantly and he sighed, reaching up a hand to rub his forehead in consternation. “I know I’ve never shared those details with you Will, but suffice to say that it would not be an accurate marker to use.” He lowered his hand to his lap and resumed his stare beyond the glass. “Longer than I would have liked.”
Will turned his head, cheek now resting on his arms as he looked at Victor carefully. “So how do I know I’m doing it right?”

Victor shrugged almost imperceptibly. “There is no right and wrong, Will. You know that as well as I do. I gave it little thought as the years passed, letting my focus only be on her and what she needed from me to keep her moving forward toward acceptance.”  He raised an eyebrow and leveled his friend a serious look. “Are you sleeping with her yet?”

A genuine laugh erupted past Will’s lips and Victor’s expression turned bewildered. “No,” he said when he could spare the air to speak, “No. Heavens know. And I definitely don’t plan to. She’s too young for me.”

“No such thing when it comes to Makers and their Children,” Victor asserted, but he considered how to respond in more detail without revealing too many of his own failings as a Maker. Delilah might be a self-assured immortal now but it had been a long, difficult road to get there. “If you are not indulging in dalliances, hold off on doing so.” He hesitated before forcing himself to complete the thought. “If you have not yet told her that she will need to separate from you in a few decades I would do so soon, if you think she will not react adversely to it. No good comes of withholding that information.”
Will nodded with a much more solemn expression, considering the implications of Victor’s advice. “I didn’t give that much of a thought. But I see your point. Actually, she might consider that a relief, that she doesn’t have to spend the rest of her life with me.” He smiled wanly. “But it’s going to take her a while to appreciate the idea of eternity so I’ve got some time before I need to worry about that particular mole-hill.”

Victor nodded, chuckling. “So, since I now know her name and that she is far too young for you, might I ask you to introduce me to the young lady?”

“Sure,” Will said, reaching for his door handle. Victor did the same but hesitated on opening it when he heard Will speak again. “You didn’t ask me that bit about sleeping with her just so you could make plans to put the moves on her, did you?”

Turning back to Will with a very unassuring grin, Victor replied, “My dear friend, what on earth would ever cause that worry to spring to mind?” He laughed, shaking his head as he popped the door open and stepped out into the night once more.

Will muttered under his breath but it only made Victor’s grin broaden. Truth be told the last thought on his mind was seducing a young vampiress, especially not the one that Will had turned at Rupert’s request. Remembering that detail wiped the grin from Victor’s face completely, and he decided then and there that under no condition would he ever consider bedding Will’s child.

‘Well,’ he amended to himself as they approached the front door and Will produced his keys, ‘at least not anytime in the near future.’

They stepped inside and the first thing Victor noticed was that it was completely dark. Raising an eyebrow at Will, his friend shrugged and moved to the base of the stairs. Further inspection revealed that there were no lights on up there, either, but Will still called out, “Jackie, the friend I told you about is here. You decent?”

Silence answered.

Will sighed, turning back to Victor who had stopped just beyond the entryway and was glancing between the doorways that led to the rest of the ground floor. “Guess I dragged you here for nothing,” Will said, closing the gap between them to they weren’t talking from opposite sides of the room. “She must be out hunting. Or partying. I never know, sometimes.” His shoulders slumped, prompting Victor to step close and issue two reassuring pats the upper part of Will’s back.

“No worries, my friend. Since I plan to be in the area for a while, I’m certain another opportunity for the introduction will present itself soon enough. And I will look forward to it in the meantime.”

Nodding, Will managed a smile. “The least I could do is offer you a place to stay for the day. I’ve got plenty of room.”

Victor hesitated. Not because he doubted the security of Will’s home but because it would have been far too easy for Felix to track him here. If the were was of the mind to cause problems, the last place he wanted to be was inside the house, an easy target and a danger to his friend and Jackie. “Thank you, but no. At least not for tonight. I already have my plans in place for where I’ll be spending the day and since I went through the effort I’d like to utilize them.”

Will perked an eyebrow at the obvious deflection but knew Victor well enough to know that his friend was not trying to brush him off or insult him. Suppressing the question that he wanted to ask, he instead responded, “Fair enough. But it’s an open offer. I expect to see you here at some point.”

“I think I have two points to offer,” Victor grinned, unable to resist the insinuation.

“Victor, if Jackie is too young, you’re too damn old,” Will said bluntly. “Besides, when was the last time you did the vampire-vampire thing.”

He chuckled. “It has been a while. But for you, friend, I might make an exception.” He punctuated the comment with a wink.

Again, Will knew him well enough to not be worried. “Yeah, yeah. I offer you lodgings and you think you can move right in,” he bemoaned as he and Victor walked toward the door. Opening it, Will held it ajar and issued one final statement in retaliation to the joke. “I’ll see you at Rupert’s tomorrow.”
Nodding his concession, Victor stepped through the door. “Tomorrow night, then.” He turned to look back at his friend. “It’s good to see you, Will.”

Will nodded back in farewell. “You, too,” he said simply, and closed the door.

Alone on the porch, Victor gazed out over the sloped street, studying the collection of modern houses that littered the immediate area. They were each nearly a half-mile apart, the precious open space a coveted luxury that only the wealthy could afford. It was about as much clear space as one could hope to find in this crowded city, at least in a neighborhood.

Thankfully, Victor had no plans of spending a night in an area like this. He stepped off the porch, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants as he started off on an idle stroll. There were a few hours yet until sunrise and he was in no hurry to get to the place he had prepared to sleep.

There were too many thoughts on his mind to allow him to take an rest, anyway.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

One of the downsides of spending the night in the dirt was waking up dirty. Victor had long become accustomed to it but it was not how he preferred to rest during the day despite it being the safest when in an area not entirely familiar. And until the business with Felix was settled it seemed more prudent for him to be cautious. Aside from the inconvenience, it was better to be secure in the ground when the daytime-stupor that accompanied the sun creeping over the horizon claimed him than risk a rude interruption by unwelcome visitors. Some vampires could not muster themselves to enough consciousness for self-defense, and he had no desire to find out the hard way what category he fell into in that regard.

The one thing that Victor could hardly issue complaint over was that he always felt surprisingly rejuvenated after spending the day in the ground. There were many theories that had been offered over the years as to precisely why, but he’d never heard one that really struck him as more right than any other. And none of them did much to improve his appearance.
In these modern times though, it was difficult to find places hidden away enough to go to ground during the day, though not impossible. He had chosen one of the many parks that littered San Fransisco, Alamo Square. He admitted to himself it had been tempting to reconsider when Will offered him lodgings, but he had already located a spot where no human would be able to observe him emerging from the ground and the few other details he had taken care of prompted him to decide to adhere to his original plans. He rose uneventfully after the sky had darkened and the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon, his innate vampire senses informing him when it would be safe before even allowing him to wake. Trees and low-growing shrubs masked him from view until he took to the trees above his resting spot in an effortless jump and nimble movements through the branches. He had left his clothing and a small assortment of items in a black trash-bag secured well above the ground, knowing the plastic would hold in the scents that another creature might have otherwise picked up on. Producing two water-bottles first, he began working to remove the dirt from his face and neck, vigorously rubbing his skin and shaking out his hair until the dirt stopped falling and the water turned clear. He primarily used his hands on the rest of his body until all the loose dirt had flecked off, but washed his hands and wrists with the remaining portion of water. Satisfied with the results, he began dressing in his suit from the night prior, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the grains of dirt now beneath his clothing. Once settled, belt buckled and tie in place, he made certain there were no humans close enough to see him and casually alighted to the ground, the entire procedure having taken less than ten minutes. After strolling out of the park, his shoes tapping a steady pace on the concrete walking paths, Victor then went about navigating the few blocks through the city to where he’d rented a room at a hotel.

A hot shower and a fresh meal was on his to-do list before making his way to where Duke Rupert held court.

The events at the front desk of the hotel commenced uneventfully and he claimed the dry-cleaning bag that had been messengered over during the day containing his fresh change of clothes. Slinging the bag over his shoulder as he made his way to the elevator, he recalled days where there had only been stairs to get you from one floor to the next though it never ceased to amaze him just how much modern day humans took such technological advancements for granted.

Rounding the corner, he noted that another guest was already waiting a few paces from the closed double doors and the moment his eyes settled on her he felt the familiar ache in his upper jaw that accompanied the urge to allow his fangs to slip down from their slumber. She was not precisely beautiful but judging by the way she filled out her jeans, he had no doubts that he would enjoy the sight of her bereft of clothing. It was her hair, though, that caught his attention at first glance. Fiery red, the sort that hardly ever really existed but could now be easily manufactured by the litany of hair-products that humans had developed for just such indulgences. Still, the color suited her, and Victor couldn’t help but fix his eyes on her in a dually hungry manner as the predator within him reared up and made its needs known.

Oblivious to the danger so close at hand disguised by the calm visage of a well-dressed man, when the elevator signaled its arrival Victor and the faux red-head waited for a family to emerge before stepping into the enclosure themselves. He waited to be certain that they would be the only ones inside. The doors slid shut before he engaged her eyes with his own in one of the brief moments she glanced over at him. Allowing his vampire influence to reach out to her, prompting her willingness for conversation, he began a simple dialogue.

“Are you here alone?” he asked as they passed the first floor.

“Yes,” she replied softly, her eyes still staring into his.

“Is anyone expecting you soon?”

“Dinner reservations at 8:00,” she said in the same, subdued manner.

Victor allowed himself a grin, his eyes sparkling at the temptation that had been presented to him. “Then, my dear,” he said just loudly enough for her to hear over the whir of the elevator’s mechanisms and soft, projected music, “I assume you won’t mind keeping me company for a little while.” He held back a chuckle when he noticed she had leaned forward in a subconscious effort to be closer to him, and the elevator dinged its signal that they had arrived at the floor where his room was located.

A momentary glance at the lighted number panel revealed her room to be one more floor above and he made a swift decision. His eyes reconnected with the woman’s, and he imparted the instruction that she would head toward her room as she had planned without giving any consideration to why he was following behind. The elevator doors slid shut again and the machinery began to whir once more as it took them further upwards. This time when the elevator dinged he released her from his glamor. She blinked rapidly in slight confusion but managed to offer a shy smile as she realized she was staring at him. He gave her an encouraging grin in response, letting some of his natural charm surface as he extended his arm to hold the doors open, gesturing that she should depart first. She said a quick thanks as she passed by him, and he indulged in a deep breath to fully take in her scent. There was nothing special about it and he only barely detected the aroma of sunlight. Suppressing a sigh at that lack of fortune, he began following a few paces behind her down the hallway.

Victor reflected on a line of thought that he had considered many times before now as he and the woman moved through the hotel. Hunting was sometimes far too easy in this modern time. Humans believed their precious science and reason was enough to make them masters of their domain, that they could subjugate the world around them through innovation and sheer force of will. Their history certainly showed that it had served them well as a species, but the truth was that it also blinded them to the other truths of the preternatural world that existed side-by-side or overlapped with theirs, where there was often far more than met the eye. For every discovery they made, every explanation they supposed, they lost perspective that the world could be a dangerous place. It was now their own inventions that frightened them most, weapons, diseases, even the ridiculous fear that one day their very computers would rise up and subjugate them. They had forgotten what it meant to be terrified of the shadows in the dark, though they worked hard, subconsciously, to live their lives in constant illumination. And while such changes made his nightly life easier, it did sometimes cause him pause as he wondered what the world was coming to.

Still, there were enough simple pleasures to be found that he never wondered too long. This time he was brought out of his reverie when the woman halted in front of a door designated by the proper number sequence to indicate this was the room she had been assigned during her stay. He fleetingly considered just why she might be here, in this hotel, in this city, on this particular night, but the curiosity passed just as quickly as it came. Who she was, even the detail of her name, didn’t matter to him because all he cared was that she was human, possessed a pulse, and was easily available.
He had timed his approach so that when he stepped closer, just shy of letting his body come in contact with hers, the electronic lock on her door had clicked open. She had just enough time to remove her card-key from the lock after depressing the handle before his arm circled her waist and brought her around to face him. Supporting the weight of her body against his, he smoothly spun around with her as though they were partners in a dance, his steps taking them both solidly into the room. Before she could issue any protest, the door still in motion as it automatically swung shut, his eyes locked with hers and he extended his glamor into her once more. She calmed immediately, her expression turning vacant. Victor allowed himself a smirk as the door clicked shut, knowing there was now nothing to interfere with his feed. 

Speaking softly, with the hint of a preternatural growl underscoring his words, he informed her with barely contained eagerness, “I plan to make thorough use of you before departing, my dear.” The change in her scent was immediate since his glamor imparted the full intent behind his words. Her aroma deepened, turning ever-so-slightly musky as she became aroused. Victor’s proximity to the beat of her pulse was nearly enough to tempt him into sampling her right then and there, but he refrained from being caught up in the impulse. Still, he could not resist lifting his free hand, the other still holding onto his garment bag, to brush her hair back from her shoulder, allowing his fingertips lightly graze her pale skin as he noted that his current vantage point and her low-cut blouse conspired to offer him a delicious view. The ache in his jaw redoubled and, knowing his will was fully imposing on her own, he finally allowed his fangs to slide down.

An accompanying shiver ran down his spine, inspiring a much more human reaction from his body. He growled low from deep within his chest, his eyes closing as his instincts and senses focused on the woman before him. In this state, he saw her both as nourishment and as a play-thing, a being that could satisfy two cravings. One he needed to survive, the blood that pulsed a beacon call to his thirst. Second was purely for pleasure, not something he needed, but a carnal desire that was nearly synonymous with the taste of blood. As a man he had known the bliss of joining with a woman’s body but it paled to what he experienced as an immortal. Sight. Smell. Hearing. Touch. All of them enhanced, refined, far more perfect than they had ever been as a human. And they all conspired to drive him out of his mind with lust since since this prey was already caught.

But there was still another matter he needed to attend to. Whispering a simple instruction before he stepped back from her, she followed behind him obediently into the tiny room where the modern marvels of plumbing were represented in the form of a simple bathroom. It was far from luxurious, but the shower would be more than adequate to allow him to remove the rest of the dirt from his body. Making use of the hook found on the inside of the door, he hung the bag that contained his fresh suit before stepping into the shower, still fully clothed. He removed the trash-bag that had been used earlier from one of his pockets and then began stripping off his clothing. All the dirt that fell from inside remained in the contained area of tile and porcelain where it would easily be disposed of, and each item of clothing, besides his shoes, was placed back into the bag. The human stood beside the counter on the opposite side of the room, her eyes glazed over, but in close enough proximity to him that he did not need to maintain eye contact to hold her under his vampiric influence so long as he focused a certain amount of concentration on her presence.

Satisfied that he would not leave any evidence of his presence in the room, Victor set his possessions on the floor of the bathroom and turned on the spray of water, twisting the dials until he was satisfied that the temperature was just warm enough that it would either chill or scald his meal when he was ready for her to join him. He made use of the miniature bottles of shampoo and bars of soap that were always found in hotels these days to scrub every inch of himself twice over, and the drain swirled with the froth of darkened, sudsy water when he stepped under the water to rinse. He found himself humming faintly, an old favorite composed by Tchaikovsky that he often indulged in playing when seated before a piano as he washed and rinsed one final time to be certain he was completely clean.

The steam from the shower had fogged the mirror in the room, obscuring his reflection when he peaked around the curtain to examine the human woman once again. She was standing precisely where she had been when he pulled the curtain shut to keep the water and dirt within the shower stall, and he allowed himself a fanged grin of anticipation. “Remove your clothes and join me. The water feels fine.”

Watching with rapt attention, his excitement built with each layer of garments that hit the tiled floor but he held himself still and mute until she stepped into the shower. He had been right about enjoying the sight of her nude.

This time, as he pinned her against the tile wall with the full length of his body pressed against hers, when he had the impulse to sample her blood he didn’t hesitate. Bending down to capture the peak of her right breast with his lips and tongue, he teased it until she issued a moan that served as the queue for him to drive his fangs into her bosom. She writhed in pleasure, his glamor ensuring that the brief moment of pain was interpreted by her body as erotic stimulation. Withdrawing his fangs from the initial puncture, he pursed his lips over the wound, sucked, and was rewarded by her sweet blood, pushed all the more readily to the surface by her elevated heartbeat. It spilled over his tongue and he had to resist his own urge to moan lest he waste any of the precious liquid. 

The partial relief to his needs brought by her blood coursing down his throat pushed his carnal lust to the forefront of his awareness. Still, he wasn’t going to spoil his enjoyment by being impatient. He licked the wounds closed, the ability to heal such minor injuries in such a fashion a long overlooked reality as his hands traversed her body. Four-hundred-and-four years spent in the pursuit of taking blood and pleasure served him well to ensure that he always sampled his favorite flavor, blood ripe with the taste of orgasm, and his touch deftly worked to have her bucking with almost unrestrained need.

Grinning like the devil he was, he had no doubt this would be a night she would not want to forget.

It was almost a pity that she wouldn’t be allowed to retain the memory.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

An hour later, Victor emerged from the room, dressed once more but this time in a navy-blue three piece suit that was just as impeccably tailored as his attire from the previous night. He glanced once up and down the hallway simply out of habit to ensure he was aware of who might be around before making his way back to the bank of elevators. The garment bag from earlier was slung over his shoulder again, this time containing his dirty clothing. He would drop it off somewhere to be cleaned before venturing to his intended destination for the evening.

Duke Rupert would no doubt be expecting him.

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February202010

Vamp Till Cue: Cadenza

A handful of stars peeked through the night sky bright enough to penetrate the permanent glow of the cityscape of San Francisco. The moon was easily noticeable, though, being a few days shy of full illumination. With all the ambient light shadows were nearly as pronounced at night as they were during the day, especially if you were familiar with looking for them. Abandoned buildings. Dark alleys. The shade of a rooftop stairway entrance.

A chance glance up at the shadow in question might have revealed a pair of eyes observing the entrance of a building across the street, but the owner would have wanted to be noticed if even that mere glimpse was allowed. Cunning brown irises marked one of the more notable features of the observer in question, as well as a confident posture, impeccable business attire complete with a pocket handkerchief, close-cut hair that was nearly as dark as the shadow he stood in, and a generally unreadable expression. Both hands were currently tucked into the pockets of his fine linen pants while his gaze remained intently fixed in place. No matter how much time passed, the figure hardly seemed to blink and only moved to duck away from the rare person who looked up toward his position. His tailored, hunter green, three-piece suit was ideal for blending in with shadows but caused his pale complexion to be even more of a stark contrast than it might have been otherwise.

Seeing movement up the street, his eyes flicked in that direction, away from where the bouncer stood at the entrance to the establishment of interest. A raised eyebrow marked his most pointed reaction to any of the people that had been seen coming to or from the building since taking up his post.

A couple strolled down the street, the woman practically draped under the arm of a man dressed almost as immaculately as our observer aside from the lack of a vest and tie. She, on the other hand, was attired like a walking Frederick’s of Hollywood advertisement, complete with knee-high boots and a barely there skirt that showed off her legs to more than a good advantage. The gentleman walked with a measured pace of one who was used to being mindful of appearing casual to observers and there was a distinct air of awareness that accompanied the demeanor, but at the moment most of his attention was focused on his hip-attachment. Both were equally attractive, the woman possessing a voluptuous but trim figure and an open, innocent face that appeared even more so paired with the weathered features of her companion. Had all three been at ground level there would have been a handful of inches difference in favor of the approaching man though the woman would have been just about eye level with the rooftop watcher, with her shoes.

A gust of wind caught the edge of the stroller’s black jacket and sharp brown eyes took note of the glint of neon light on steel. Our observer’s expression sobered and his gaze became even more intense while the pair halted as the gentleman on the ground nodded to the bouncer in a familiar manner.

Sam nodded back in his customarily terse manner. “Back again I see.”

“Just let us in, Sam,” said the woman, who spared just enough time to shoot the burly man a look of annoyed impatience before turning her hungry gaze back to her escort. “We’re here to have fun.”

A deep throated chuckle sounded from her companion who looked at Sam apologetically. “Do forgive Keira. I promised her we would spend the evening here but it took us longer than anticipated to actually make it out the door.”

“Uh huh,” was Sam’s unenthusiastic response as he stepped aside to allow them into the bar. “Just do me a favor, Poet, and keep her out of trouble. If you can manage.”

The man flashed a devilish looking grin, confirming another detail about his identity. “I’m certain I can come up with something.”

She growled in response as they disappeared from view, leaving the street quiet and lacking any occupants aside from the statute that was Sam who resumed his post in front of the doors.

Having drifted close to edge, the man on the roof stepped back into the shadows once more but resumed his watch with a more thoughtful expression. It was apparent that something about the couple had caught his eye for a reason beyond casual curiosity or aesthetic appreciation. The look remained a fixture through the activity that continued to transpire below. A few potential patrons were turned away by Sam who explained patiently thatNocturnal Embers was a private establishment that did not cater to just anyone dropping by. Some were sent on their way with a dazed look after speaking to the bouncer but none had to confronted physically.

Car headlights flashed down the street, jarring the man on the roof out of his reverie and provoking a much more expressive response in the form of a wide grin as the vehicle approached.

The bouncer and our observer watched with equal attentiveness as two men swiftly exited the luxury sedan. One took up a frontal position, his eyes fixed toward the opposite end of the street than how they had approached, while the other scurried around the car and opened the back door closest to the bar’s entrance.

Felix Chekhov stepped out into the crisp March air.

Confirming his suspicions was all the queue needed to provoke a hasty step out of view lest anyone take note of the extra member of the audience.

It would have ruined half the fun.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Inside, the bar’s layout was fairly ordinary. Directly opposite the entrance was the raised counter surrounded by high stools. Assorted tables and chairs littered the main area of the room to the left, surrounded by booths attached along the walls. A pool table and jukebox were located in the area to the right of the bar with the kitchen and a small office behind. The bartender, Tony, was an amiable enough fellow that made a living both on the refreshments he sold to his customers and on the welcoming atmosphere that he maintained in the establishment. He was only a partial owner but it was enough that his investment in the place was more than merely that of an employee.

Tony provided a willing ear to his patron’s woes, but there was a few very specific reason they chose to provide Nocturnal Embers with their business. One of which would be revealed if you had a chance to look at the menu’s somewhat foreign offerings listed alongside the typical bar fare. Blood. Rare meat. And there were strict policies posted in an unassuming manner beside the list of the night’s specials on a dry-erase board hanging near the bar. No killing on the premises, and promises of dire consequences against anything silver ever making it through the entrance.

Felix Chekhov walked inside with a condescending smirk plastered on his lips. His entrance went unremarked at first since Tony was occupied heating up a packet of blood in the microwave behind the bar. He poured it into a glass before offering it to Keira, who made a face at her companion as he sipped at a single malt scotch, but whatever response Poet might have issued was interrupted when the bartender noticed his new customer.

“What can I get ya Mr. Chekhov?” Tony could have easily been mistaken for a line backer in his youth but the tone of voice he addressed toward the comparatively smaller man was one that hinted at extreme wariness. He wouldn’t have been able to run a place likeNocturnal Embers if he were one to easily succumb to fear, seeing as a number of his customers would have been eying him in a hungry manner any time it happened, but this was as close as he tread towards that line.

Felix took his time approaching the bar. Conversation around the room dropped to a whisper and the jukebox suddenly seemed loud as everyone either discretely, or not, turned their attention toward the scene unfolding at the bar. Poet was still leaning an arm against the counter, sipping at his drink, but Keira tugged at his elbow in a silent communication. He glanced back at her and perked an eyebrow but deferred to her insistence that they step away. They settled themselves into an empty booth just as Felix reached the row of stools. Stepping between them, he rested both palms on the well-worn counter top and smiled without a hint of friendliness at Tony before finally answering the question.

“You could get me your signature on that pesky little document I had Vanya drop off last week, Anthony.”

Tony nonchalantly pulled a towel off of its hook and began polishing a glass. “Already told ya I ain’t the one ya gotta take that up with.”

“Is that so?” Felix moved to sit in one of the stools, his imported leather jacket creaking as his bent his arms to rest his elbows on the surface of the bar. A gold earing accented by a brilliant diamond glittered in his right ear, and his Italian silk shirt was so fresh off the press it’s a wonder the collar wasn’t sharp enough to cut. “Well, Anthony, I think you’re undervaluing yourself. See, you own the majority of the business. That means what you say goes. And I gotta tell you, I’d really appreciate you saying that you’re gonna come work for me. We’re old friends, aren’t we?”

Another glass found it’s way into Tony’s meaty hands for polishing. “Our people’s the same people, but we ain’t no friends.”

Felix pressed one hand over his chest in mock pain. “Anthony, you’re hurting my feelings. After all the nice things I’ve done for you.”

“You ain’t done nofin that I couldn’t ah done myself, Mr. Chekhov,” Tony responded, setting the glass back into place and slinging the towel over his shoulder in a practiced movement. He rested both his hands on the counter, inches from Felix’s, and leaned forward. “Now, ya can either order sumfin, or ya can leave. I ain’t runnin’ no social club.”

The smaller man’s nostrils flared in aggravation and it appeared as though Tony was about to get a more vitriolic speech from Felix when another elbow joined the collection on the counter. Felix whirled on the newcomer, his expression betraying his temper, but it was only met by a serene grin fixed on a pale face. It took several long seconds for Felix to fully register the intruder’s presence before he bristled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh come now, Felix, give me a little credit,” said the pale man in a hunter green suit as his grin widened. “After all, we’re such old friends I simply couldn’t pass up the chance to say hello. It’s been entirely too long.”

Felix suddenly became aware of the audience watching with rapt attention and bit back whatever he’d intended to respond. Sneering, he said, “You’re worse than a cockroach, Victor.”

“The roaches no doubt consider that a compliment,” came the dry reply, but Victor’s grin turned menacing. “I’d hate to consider draining you, Felix. I don’t really think your blood would suit my palate but it would be worth subjecting myself to the affront just to have the pleasure of feeling you wriggling in my arms as you died.”

Felix sputtered. “You can’t touch me, you asshole. My people would burn this place to the ground and then start working on your little vamp buddies. And I promise you’d be one of the first to bite the dust.”

Victor tsked. “Now now, my ursine friend, please don’t embarrass yourself with such useless threats. Especially when you can’t even back them up.” Faster than most of the people in bar could see, Victor lifted his arm from the counter and flicked Felix’s forehead. Though the move was far from forceful, Felix’s head snapped back as though Victor had hit him with a closed fist rather than a single finger.

Face flushed in equal measures of anger and embarrassment, Felix resisted the urge to raise a hand to touch the tender spot forming but visibly worked himself up to the point where he again appeared ready to launch into a tirade. The vampire smoothly cut off the were-bear before he had a chance to begin. “This place is under his lordship’s dominion, Felix. The duke. Do you really want to piss on his boots like this?”

Felix grit his teeth. Victor raised an eyebrow in a silent dare but no further words were exchanged between them. Felix rose from his seat and briskly strode from the bar, not bothering to look back before the door swung shut.

The people in the room who breathed collectively sighed in relief.

“Ya have impeccable timing there, Mr. Mason,” Tony said quietly as conversations began picking up again.

Victor smiled more genuinely and nodded. “Think nothing of it, Tony. You may not be one of us but this bar has been neutral ground for longer than half of your customers have been alive. It’s far too lucrative to allow an upstart, self-stylized mobster to strong arm a controlling interest, among other reasons.”

Tony grinned at the compliment. “Ya sure pissed off Mr. Chekhov good. Gotta say, yur pretty crazy even for a vamp.”

A broad grin was issued in response. “From you, friend, I shall take that as a compliment. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to enjoy the rest of my evening in your fine establishment.”

The bartender nodded, relaxing back into his customary posture. “Sure thing, Mr. Mason. Whatever yous want tonight s’on the house.”

Victor chuckled. “I find myself in the mood for something a little fresher than packet blood this evening, Tony, but thank you. The gesture is appreciated.” Tony smiled politely and nodded in response as Victor turned to survey the crowd. The were-wolf bartender was more than willing to cater to blood-suckers but that didn’t mean he had to be completely kosher with their meal habits. But, so long as no one died in the bar, he let them do as they please. Seeing as Victor was older than most of the ones who walked through his doors, Tony knew that was about as much of a safety guarantee anyone could expect.

Letting the sounds from inside the bar filter through his acute hearing, Victor’s gaze lazily traveled over the booths and tables. The waitresses had begun moving around again but they had several minutes worth of catching up to do, prompting a number of patrons to rise from their seats and approach the bar to get themselves refills. Most of the women who passed him smiled in a faintly nervous manner but the patrons of Nocturnal Embers, like Tony, were used to being around vampires enough to know better than to show open fear. It took a special kind of human to be comfortable enough to socialize with the undead.

He spotted the pair that had caught his eye on the street and he allowed himself to linger on their table for a few moments longer than he’d looked at anyone else. The female vampire, Keira, truly was a beauty. Victor wondered if her companion was her maker but after a moment’s reflection he decided that they seemed to behave more like lovers than sire and child. It was enough for him to be curious about the details behind their relationship, since vampire-vampire couplings were rare due to the consquences of repeated blood exchanges, but Victor was brought out of his thoughts when the man called Poet met his eyes. Victor gazed back at him evenly and found himself contemplating the unique emerald hue of the irises locked on his own. He grinned at Poet and nodded, receiving a nod in response. When Keira turned around to see what her companion was looking at Victor’s smile turned charming, but he merely nodded once more and then continued his inspection.

A familiar scent caused him to turn towards the entrance as another vampire walked in. Victor smoothly moved away from the counter to greet him and the two exchanged a nod and a silent hello. The most recent addition to the crowd was dressed much more casually than Victor, clad in a pair of dark slacks and a long sleeved Henley underneath a well worn leather jacket, but it was apparent to even those who’d never seen them together before that the two counted each other as friends.

“I’m always late to the party,” the younger, more relaxed vampire complained in a bemused manner.

“Should I apologize, Will? It was hardly by invitation only.”

Will laughed before resuming the low tone of conversation that was the habit of vampires speaking in a mixed crowd. Unless a were was standing right beside them, none but another immortal would have been able to overhear the words and the background noise of the bar was enough to mask most of it. “Sam said Felix Chekhov had one hell of a welt on his forehead when he got into his car and I heard him shouting for an icepack before he drove off.”

“He said I couldn’t touch him,” Victor replied.

Will’s eyes widened. “You old git,” he said, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. “Leaving me out of all the fun. I should wonder why I call you my friend.”

“Because, my antebellum acquaintance,” Victor said smugly, “I’m one of the few who properly appreciate you.”

Sighing dramatically, the other vampire shrugged. “My lot in life, I suppose.” He turned serious suddenly, eyes darting around the room. “You did get the okay from Rupert, right?”

Victor shook his head. Will gave him a concerned look but Victor merely smirked and lifted his hand, his index finger pointing upwards. Will looked appropriately impressed. “Damn. But you know you’re going to take the heat on this.”

Nodding, Victor slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m prepared to deal with it. I’ve been requested to linger here until this is fully settled.”

Will nodded slowly, letting the implications sink in. “We’ll be glad to have you around, but watch stepping on Rupert’s toes. You know how he gets about the primael traipsing around his duchy.”

Victor chuckled. “I’ll be cautious. I have no desire to settle here, anyway. King Reginald is more than accommodating in Nevada, and the situation there is much more suited to me.”

“You just be sure to keep that in mind. If you haven’t checked in yet-” Will cut himself off, “Don’t answer that. I know you haven’t or Felix would have known you were here. Just make sure you do it soon, alright? Tonight?”

“Tomorrow. Tonight is for recreation.”

Will looked around the room again with a more appraising eye. “Suppose I don’t blame you. Anything catch your fancy yet?”

Victor shook his head, then turned to resume his survey. “Not just yet, but the night is young.” He grinned. “And so are the women.”

“Yeah, yeah, just keep in mind if you’re sticking around for a while you might want to be a bit more genteel than your usual dine and dash habit. The ladies have gotten fiesty.”

Raising an eyebrow, Victor glanced at Will briefly. “That sounds promising.”

“Not really,” Will explained. “They stick together when one of us doesn’t treat them right. Course their version of right and ours is entirely different. Makes for interesting entanglements but that’s all I’ll say about it.”

Victor chuckled again. “You’ve become far too soft, dear William. The women never know what’s good for them where we’re concerned.”

Even Will had to grin. “True enough.” He shifted on his feet as though he was caught in an internal debate but Victor merely waited for his friend to speak. After another moment of silence, Will’s posture relaxed and he turned to face Victor again. “How hungry are you? I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.”

Of any of the things Victor might have expected Will to say, that was not one of them. “Don’t tell me you’ve acquired a lover, Will. You haven’t been the type for nearly a century.”

Will chuckled. “No. Not a lover.” He waited in silence for Victor’s answer but got impatient when one was not forthcoming. “So?”

Victor grinned. “I’d be honored to meet her.” He raised an eyebrow. “It is a her?”

“Definitely a her, my friend,” Will said, grinning back at Victor as he clapped his friend on the shoulder, but his eyes strayed somewhere into the distance of the bar and wiped the grin off his face. “I’ll be outside when you’re done.”

Lowering his voice again, Victor resisted looking over his shoulder at what might have caught Will’s attention. “Something I should know?”

Attempting a smile, Will said, “One of the feisty ones. I’ll explain later.” Without another word said, he stepped away and hastily ducked out the door.

Not a handful of seconds later, Victor caught sight of the approaching red-headed human. Her eyes were fixed on the recently vacated doorway and her expression betrayed her disappointment. But then she turned, and looked at Victor hopefully. “Is he coming back?”

Victor gave her a frankly appraising look, taking in the details of her form. She was attractive and her body was slender like so many women these days, bordering on the point of being thin. He wondered what connection she had to Will but that was up to his friend to tell him. “No,” Victor answered, smiling in a disarming fashion that was long practiced to set humans at ease. His lips stayed closed enough that the tips of his retracted fangs would not be visible, and his expression was cast in a friendly mask. “But I will tell him you asked after him, Miss…?”

“Oh, right, you don’t remember me.” An alluring blush crept up her cheeks, causing her skin to flush closer to the color of her fiery hair. Victor’s hunger flared in response and his eyes focused on the clearly visible pulse in her throat as a torrent of words came tumbling out of her mouth. “I’m Matilda. Matty. And don’t call me Miss. It makes me feel old. I used to work for Will.”

It never ceased to amaze Victor even after four centuries of roaming the earth how simple it was to hear the subtext beneath a human’s words. “My apologies, Matty. I do remember Will speaking of you, but I don’t recall if we’ve ever met.” He wondered how long ago Will had fed from her. “You will have to forgive me,” he said, still smiling. “Humans tend to look alike unless I have a reason to remember them. Especially the attractive ones.”

Her skin flushed deeper and Victor’s smile widened to a grin, letting her see his fangs but she seemed more intrigued than afraid. ‘Foolish girl. You’re still the prey.’

“Thanks, Vic,” she said, and his smile froze in place as any potential interest in her fled. “If you could just tell him I said hi, I’d appreciate it.” She glanced back toward her table, where a group of ladies was calling her name. “It was nice meeting you.”

“A pleasure,” he responded genially, keeping the annoyance from his voice.

Matty smiled and waved a quick goodbye before heading back to her friends. Victor took note of the other women briefly, noticing that they were sitting in the booth behind Poet and Keira and appeared to be engaged with them in friendly conversation. One of the women gave Matty a very pointed look as she settled back into her seat, but Victor missed the hushed words they shared due to the other noise in the bar.

Sighing lightly, Victor decided to skip the feed. It would have had to merely be a sip, anyway, since Will was waiting for him. Waiting to indulge properly seemed the wiser course of action.

He spared one more lingering look at the two booths and then headed for the doors.
February42010
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December232009

Must have been some cognitive interference…

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