To the Victor goes....
Knight to F3.
Michael looked across the board at the corners of his opponent's lips. The slight quiver he found there told him that his "sparring partner" was intrigued by his move but trying not to show it. Finally she let her lips slip ever so slightly into the beginnings of a smile. Michael leaned forward and rested his chin on his fist. So she liked how he had responded to her King's Gambit? He continued to study her while she contemplated her next move. It was always important to take your time with any game. The opening moves are usually the most critical. He should know.
********
He remembered that the room seemed circular. When one looked at the wall of full length windows you could almost imagine that the whole room was like a giant fishbowl. It wasn't, but that is how Michael always remembered it.
"Come forward and present yourself child," said a voice that sounded like silk with the promise of razor wire underneath.
Michael walked forward to the silhouette of The Prince. He forced his eyes to stay focused on The Prince and not to wander to the dozen or so vampires watching him from around the room. As he closed the distance between them he made his posture firm and projected strength through his body language. In a room full of polite predators it was important to not look like easy prey. A hellish dozen steps later, Michael kneeled before the undead ruler of Chicago.
"Greeting Prince Aludian. I am Michael Davidson. Childe of Alice Shay. Childe of Marcus LaCroix. Childe of Jan Erson. Childe of Remus Vici. Childe of Atilar. Childe of Ventrue. I am here to present myself to you with my Sire's blessing."
The Prince looked down silently at the kneeling figure before him.
"Rise Childe of Ventrue. Let us see if you are worthy of the blood that runs through your veins."
********
The game was proceeding nicely. So far it had been mostly counters to the other's moves but no major thrusts into the their defenses. Michael smiled as he continued to build the framework for his trap. Perhaps his smile had given something away, because his opponent's next move didn't make sense. Rook to C6. Rook to C6? Michael tilted his head to the side while he pondered his striking partner's strange move. Why move there? It didn't help her at all. What kind of surprise was she planning? Michael didn't like surprises.
********
It was a decent night at Ambrosia. The local rack had its usual smattering of kindred moving amongst the kine. Some enjoyed the company and life of the place. Others came to order off the "VIP Drink List" when they didn't feel like hunting for themselves. If one was in the mood they could find a pleasant distraction in the crowd and a possible meal later. Granted they would have to avoid the wrath of Vincent. There were two things that the Ventrue didn't like in his club, violence and free drinks. Michael would never feed in Ambrosia, Vincent was family. Besides, they didn't have his particular vintage.
The young Ventrue was hunting on this night, he just wasn't after blood. He was hunting for rumors. To all appearances he was leaning against a railing watching the mass of humanity writhe to the beat of the music beneath him. In reality he was Listening. A small bit of concentration and his senses expanded to superhuman ranges. For a moment the pounding of the music felt like a church belfry at noon, the flashing lights were like blinding headlights, and the smell... The club was saturated with the musk of excess, desire, and predatory satisfaction. He hated that first moment of sensory overload but it was necessary for him to Listen. Once the background noise was filtered out he began to pick up whispered conversations and muttered comments from different corners of the club. For the most part it was nothing of consequence. Ambrosia may be a place for Kindred to relax, but most were wise enough to not speak about their business openly. Still there were others who used the club as a meeting location for exactly that reason. Nobody expected dirty deals to go gown in public. That small chance was why Michael Listened.
"Michael, Michael, Michael. Care to buy an old friend a drink?"
Looking back he would tell himself that he was too busy trying to tune out the bass to notice her walking up to him. It had to be that and not the fact that he had changed so much that he failed to recognize her as something more than food. So Michael took in all things that were Danica Knight as she leaned against the rail next to him. As always her gray green eyes were striking and reminded him of a fresh cut dollar bill. An army surplus jacket was slung over one bare shoulder so that it hung down like a half cape. A plaid skirt did a good job of drawing attention to her fish net clad legs. Dear god did those legs deserve attention. Her shoulder length hair with a hint of red to it added to her appeal. When you saw the whole package she became something more. She was a dark queen. She was the woman that you had to cross the street to hit on with even though you knew she would punch you in the face for daring to speak to her.
"Danica?"
She smirked knowingly at Michael's delayed response. He continued to be silent as he made sure that his dead heart hadn't suddenly decided to beat again. Damn did she have legs.
"How? What are you doing here?"
"How I got here is in a car. What I am doing here is to say hi to an old friend." She continued give that knowing smirk.
While the curve of her lips caused pleasant memories to continue running through his head, Michael's thoughts began to flow in a disturbing direction. Danica was here. He hadn't seen her in three years. Not since she had been his fence helping move goods back in Baltimore and the two had been banging like drums. Danica was Here. She was leaning against a railing in a vampire club that doubled as a feeding ground. Danica was HERE, and she was still mortal.
"You shouldn't be here Danica. This isn't the safest club in town."
"Oh I know," she teased back.
Michael looked over her shoulder to see a well dressed form move up behind Danica. The Ventrue Elder wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. The Kindred leaned over and licked her neck. The whole time the two vampires glared at each other.
"The lady should be fine since I brought her here."
"Christoff..." Michael warned the other Ventrue. One look at the two told him everything he needed to know. Danica was looking upon the creature holding her with star-stuck eyes as she unconsciously tried to push herself further into the vampire's embrace. Her stance was submissive to the larger man whose presence folded around her, consuming her individuality and leaving her an obedient pet. That was the point. Christoff was showing Michael that he owned this woman that use to have feelings for him. There was only one thing that could enrapture someone so completely. Michael had seen the effects of the blood bond before, but its effects were so much more obvious when he knew the thrall in question.
"Come on Michael. You look stressed. Chill out, have a drink. Dance some. You can dance with my doll here if you want," Christoff said with feigned innocence.
Michael was not in the mood to be polite. Christoff had been his personal tormentor ever since the night Michael had been embraced. If the elder vampire wanted provoke him into starting a fight he should know that two can play that game.
"Still sore that I got away from you 'Uncle'? Does it make you feel like the failure you are to look upon me? I'm what, the third potential childe to get away from you? First there was Asha. She is supposed to sing here tonight you know? Your botched embrace paraded in front of you. She isn't even part of our clan, the Toreador had a previous claim to her and you should have know it."
Michael continued even as the older vampire's face began to frown.
"When you couldn't have her, you turned her son. That was intelligent. Marcus took young Alexander from you, gave him to Alice. Then you wanted me for some reason. Marcus couldn't have a black sheep like you polluting our bloodline. So once again your sister swoops all the way down from New York just to screw you over and embrace me. Can't have me so you drag Danica into this? That's original. You haven't been able to keep a childe in what eighty years? What makes you think that Marcus will let you turn her?"
Michael smirked as a thought came to him. "Who knows? Maybe he'll give her to me."
Christoff snarled and bared his fangs. Michael felt the ache in his own jaw. The desire to flash his teeth and attack the rival predator that threatened his what was his was strong. Using his will he created iron bars in his mind to cage the dark stranger that threatened to rob him of his senses. Once the darkness was shackled he looked his "Uncle" in the eyes and spoke in a calm but strained voice.
"Let me make you an offer Christoff. You release your hold on her and I won't take everything you have."
Christoff snorted.
"You don't know it yet Christoff, but you will take my offer. You will either accept it now or later. You will like it much less later."
Christoff grinned.
********
Knight to C3.
Michael smiled as his opponent moved her threatened queen back. He then moved his bishop to take the rook that the queen had been protecting, putting her king into check. It was easy to get out of check if she was willing to sacrifice her queen or a knight. Leaning forward Michael smiled like the predator he was as he gazed at his partner's reaction to the trap he had set up.
It was good when a plan came together.
********
The silence in the room showed just how angry Prince Aludian was. Someone had broken his laws. The night before a man had been found dead at Depaul University. The Prince had decreed that no Kindred could feed at any place of higher learning. While the news had taken it as a run of the mill but brutal homicide, the Kindred knew it was anything but. A vampire had hunted and killed that man. Not only had they killed, but they had drawn attention to the killing and risking the Masquerade.
Aludian began to speak in a quiet, deadly, voice that still carried to the gathering of vampires before him. All eyes were on the Prince's as he spoke of Law and the Traditions that he would uphold. He outlined why this situation was abominable to their society. The Masquerade was all that hid vampires from the eyes of the mortals; it was the only protection they had. Everyone paid attention to The Prince… everyone except Michael.
The young Ventrue kept his face carefully neutral while he waited for the opportunity he was looking for. He resisted the urge to smile as he thought of something his Grandsire Marcus had told him - 'patience: everything comes to he who waits.'
There was the opening he was looking for. Michael stepped forward just as The Prince paused in his rant about bringing the criminal before him. Silence reigned once more as all eyes turned to Michael's interruption. This was it. Time to see if his trap worked. Falling to one knee he spoke.
"My Prince, I wish for your justice to be done and do not want to keep you waiting. I know the one who would dare violate your laws."
"Truly? How do you know this?"
"I saw the culprit fleeing the scene My Lord."
A walking bundle of rags stepped forward and from its depths came the slurring speech of the leader of the Nosferatu clan.
"Ang all we have is your worg on gis?"
Michael looked into the eyes of the Nosferatu Primogen. His yellow eyes were the only part of the horribly disfigured vampire that was not hidden by his rags. From there he met the eyes of each of the Primogen; the vampire council that represented each clan within the city, before settling on The Prince.
"I have proof. I have two pieces of evidence that seem to have gone missing from the coroner's office along with his original report on the body. Her new report will conclude that the wounds were caused by an irregularly shaped weapon, not by the fangs of a wolf."
He pulled out two small plastic bags from his pocket. One contained animal hairs and the other had a small piece of fabric in it.
"In my hand I have a piece of cloth found at the scene. I am sure that any of the Gangrel or Toreador clans can confirm the identity of the guilty one by using the sent off of this."
"And who is the culprit Childe?" The velvet voice of the Toreador Primogen flowed into his ears and left tingles dancing across his brain. Michael felt himself wanting to please her but schooled himself against Justine's influence. He was going to answer because he wished to, not because she demanded it. It was damn hard to deny Justine anything that she wanted though.
Looking to The Prince he answered. "It was Trey of clan Gangrel."
All eyes turned towards where the accused vampire stood. Unwilling to face the Prince's wrath Trey panicked and threw himself through the window shattering the fishbowl effect of the room. Everyone began moving. The Sheriff ran to the jagged hole and swore loudly. The harpies amongst the Kindred immediately began speaking in hushed tones with each other. The Prince and the Elders looked out the window at the fleeing fugitive. Amongst all the chatter few noticed Marcus LaCroix; Primogen of clan Ventrue, walk up behind Michael and speak quietly to him.
"Well played my boy."
********
His trap had triggered the middle game and his opponent was being particularly vicious in her counter attack. As the brutal exchange continued Michael remembered that that night had ended rather brutally as well.
********
Michael picked up the key from the front desk of the motel and went to his haven for the night. The place wasn't much to look at but it would only take a few minutes to make it a place that would keep him safe from the sun. He put the 'Do not Disturb' sign on the door and then threw his backpack onto the floor. Taking the sheets off the bed, he grabbed the bare mattress and hauled it over to the closed window.
Just as he rested the mattress over the window something smashed through the glass and slammed into the mattress. The force of it knocked him onto his back with the bare mattress and his attacker's weight on top of him pinning him to the floor. This was much too embarrassing of a position for the Ventrue to be in. This needed to be fixed. Michael drew strength from the stolen life that flowed in his veins and then simply pushed. With a snarl he flipped the mattress and his attacker off of him. Scrambling towards his assailant he drew the fourteen inch blade that he kept in a hidden sheath on his back. Not giving his attacker a chance, he got on top of the mattress so that their positions were reversed. Michael drove the dagger down into the mattress again and again. His reward was a howl and blood tinged stuffing flying, filling the rented room. Having had enough his attacker pushed the bedding and Michael off of him. The two hunters stood and faced each other.
"Hello Trey. Are you mad at me?"
"You son of a bitch! One god damn fucking mistake and you get The Prince calling a blood hunt on my ass! Tell me you haven't thought about saying 'fuck it all' and tear into whatever meat bag happens to be near by? Especially when you're hungry, and the fucker smells oh so good."
"Not really. I'm not a rabid dog."
"I'll gut you, you blue blooded bastard!" To emphasize his point Trey held up a hand to show the talons sprouting from his fingertips.
Michael drew more power from his blood and crouched slightly to match the Gangrel's posture. The two leapt forward at the same time. Both combatants lashed out and scored hits. Michael bled from four ragged slashes to his chest while Trey had a deep cut to the side of his neck. Michael darted to the side and then lunged forward driving his blade up to the hilt in the Gangrel's ribs. The sound of bone cracking caused the feral Kindred to twist the dagger out of Michael's grip. Trey snarled again and slammed into the Ventrue bringing them both to the ground. Animal growls came from each of the creatures as they rolled along the ground until a scream rent the air around them. The Gangrel had pinned his opponent underneath him and driven his claws into Michael's chest. Sensing victory Trey twisted this claws inside his prey. The pained reaction of the wounded predator was to grab Trey's hands to keep them from moving any further.
Trey leaned down to whisper into his victim's ear.
"Don't die yet. I still need to gut you fucker."
"Fuck. You," was his strained reply.
Michael was hurt. Hurt bad. He could barely think through the pain. The Beast inside him was thrashing about. It was desperate to survive. Then a drop of blood fell from Trey's throat and hit Michael's lips as he continued to whisper the agonies that he was going to visit upon him. The Beast tasted it's salvation and forced Michael's eyes to lock onto the wound on Trey's neck. The Beast pushed aside everything in order to fulfill its goal. It pushed aside the pain. It pushed aside the chemical smell of the carpet. It pushed aside the gloating of its soon to be prey. It pushed aside the weak part of itself called Michael Davidson. Like a viper The Beast struck. It buried its fangs into the other predator's neck. It began to feed on the blood that would strengthen it and weaken its foe. The Beast continued to guzzle down the sweet stolen life that was filling its mouth. It fed until there was nothing but ash in its mouth.
********
Knight captures knight at C7.
"Checkmate."
Michael looked at the knight he had just taken as his adversary went over the board trying to deny the inevitable. He contemplated the game he had just played and thought about how things had ended. Taking his opponent's knight had won him the game. If he was a philosopher he would wonder what this foreshadowed for him. He wanted Christoff dead. He needed power to do that. Power, however, was his birthright. As a kindred of clan Ventrue, power and the right to rule flowed through his blood. Christoff and power. The knight and the king. The goal of the game. The question was which one was Christoff? Was he the king toppled at the end of the game, or the knight that needed to fall to claim the prize?
"Well shit."
Michael looked up from the thoughts in his head and paid attention to his lovely opponent.
"Good game Malorie."
"I'll figure out a way to get around that play you set up next time."
Michael smiled and lowered his voice slightly.
"Of course you will. That's why I keep coming to these little events. It's hard to find a worthy adversary to cross blades with. Especially when they are as lovely as you."
If Malorie had been looking at Michael's face instead of casting her eyes downward to hide her blush she would have seen his smile take on a slight predatory hint. When she did look up there was only the charming face that she had been glancing at every week for the past month. It had taken her that long to get the courage to play a game with him. She was too busy looking into his eyes that she missed what he was saying.
"Oh sorry. Spaced out. What were you saying?"
"Now that the game is done, I was wondering about that bite to eat..."