Title: Playing The Fool
Author: Mon Petit Pierrot
Fandom: Morganville Vampires
Rating: T (for safety)
Summary: "Ah, I expected you would say that also." Myrnin marked his place with the utmost care and closed the book, setting it in his lap. "I'm afraid I have to decline your offer, Bishop." First part in the 'Fool' series.

Note: 'Playing The Fool' is the new title for this if you don't recognize it, formerly known as 'Fool'. This is the last chapter, and I just want to say that all of you guys were wonderful. Thank you all so much for your support. (Sorry it took so long!) The next installment will be called "Fool's Misrule", for the fifth book, and it will be out soon!

And my boyfriend, who I asked to read this (since he's a big fan of MV just like I am) said that Bishop calls Myrnin "fool" too much. He might be right, but I don't know... Anyway, without further ado, here's the next chapter. Sorry for the delay.

- Playing The Fool -

Chapter 7

MANY MANY MANY THANKS TO YOU LOVELY PEOPLE WHO HAVE ENCOURAGED THE CONTINUATION OF THIS. WITHOUT YOU THIS WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN WRITTEN! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!

ShadowxMagic, chickentyrant5, LeeAnnxx, twirlgirl1996, NothingnessAlchemist, Chatterbox1603, bunyipbabe, xXxVampChicaxXx, sweet little nightmare, Xenakisfox10112, Valentina-Lestrange, Journey, xxscoobyxx, and Flying Penguinz.

This damned darkness was oppressing to the point of suffocation. He could feel it crawling down his throat, tickling his lungs, seizing his still heart. He saw no escape. But that old bastard should have been able to save him from this.

Or else he didn't care. No one did. Not any longer. He was alone.

It was only a game, after all. Wasn't it? Self-preservation was a hard habit to ignore when the endless years stretched before you and the sun itself was your enemy.

Though he owed no loyalty to Bishop and to his lady, he was evenly divided between the two great powers with his numerous false promises. Betrayal was his only option that was of his own will. He had shared information that Amelie had never intended Bishop to know to his own benefit, and that suited him just fine. He had done the same for his lady.

He would be killed if he was found out.

But it was only...entertainment. He had no need to be involved in this tireless political struggle between his lady and that bastard. He was only a lowly pawn, granted no more power than a godforsaken human, in this game. He was a predator, praying on the succulent and the weak, because he could. It was his duty to humanity, to prey on their stupidity and innocence. He needed to.

His mouth watered at the phantom taste wafting through the dank air in the cell, taunting him.

Hunger clawed with a vengeance at his stomach. He cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the heavy chains on his shoulders as he thought of his fleeting freedom. As selfish as he was, he wanted escape. Escape out of the darkness, the pain, the starvation.

The door shattered, the broken wood scattering on the floor.

Ah. His rescuers. Took them long enough.

He heard the faint whispering of the vampires' movement and the twin frantic heartbeats of two humans. One pattern of that wonderful organ sounded familiar, the rhythm of its beat settling in his head and soothing him. His lovely apprentice, Claire. He recognized her scent now, tainted with her fear and nervousness.

One of the vampires, the taller one - Gérard, was it? - kicked the steel eye-bolts in a vain attempt to break the bonds that secured the chains. The vibration traveled delicately through his body and rattled his bones, carrying little tongues of pain as the silver brushed against his sensitive wrists. He lifted his head and found his fragile student standing timidly by the door, partly behind a chocolate-skinned woman who cocked a gun at him.

His mouth twisted into a smile that made Claire's heart jump and stutter.

"I knew you'd come," he whispered, his voice grating low in his throat. "You fools." And with a sudden desperation surging through him, he raised his voice to ask, "Where is she? Where's Amelie?" He didn't want his lies and carefully laid deceit to slip without abandon and ruin everything. He could not allow his lady to hear.

"Behind us," Claire answered.

Not the answer he had wanted. She was supposed to be safe.

What would be the point of this damned struggle, then?

"Fools."

"Nice way to talk to your rescuers," the woman said smartly, though it was only bravado on the surface. He could sense the fine tremor running through her body, that basic human instinct in defense from the close proximity of their natural predators. He smirked at her, letting her know that he was completely aware of her fear. She stared back defiantly and turned her head; it reminded him of Claire. "Gérard? I don't like this. It's too easy."

Too easy indeed. She had an excellent point. It had been easy, though he wondered why. It was unusual behavior for Bishop. But he did, he did know. The old bastard had kidnapped him only for a reason to cripple Amelie by any means necessary. His deception was secure. For now, at least. He was safe.

"I know," Gérard said. He crouched down close to him and examined the chains. "Silver coated. I can't break them."

Idiots.

"What about the bolts in the floor?" Claire asked.

A stroke of genius, from the youngest person in the room. Wonderful.

Gérard grabbed the edge of the metal plate immediately and twisted sharply, the steel bending easily under his hands and tearing out of the stone floor with a ripping shriek. He flinched as the unearthly noise grated mercilessly in his head, wavering as part of the chains holding him down fell loose and steadying himself. He was weaker than he cared to admit.

The two vampires quickly destroyed the eye-bolts and Gérard helped him up, keeping a hand on his arm.

He felt that familiar heat rising in his body and the dry thirst dusting his throat, and shook off the other vampire easily. He flew towards the chocolate-skinned woman; she saw him coming. She raised her gun, but Gérard's partner knocked her hand out of line. The bullet shattered the wall and shed silver flakes. He ignored the tiny burns igniting on his exposed skin and grabbed the woman by her fragile neck that would so easily break under his hands.

"No!" Claire screamed, loud in his ear, and he stilled instinctively at her voice. She held up her wooden stake as though determined to use it to help the woman, but he could see that her hand trembled slightly.

He turned his head towards her and grinned maniacally, baring the lethal sharpness of his teeth. "I thought you were here to save me, Claire, not kill me," he purred deep in his throat, and turned his head to look back at his prey. He could hear the blood singing to him, and it drove him mad with thirst. The woman was trying to get her gun back in position, but it was amusing to him, to see her fumble. He took the toy away from her easily.

"I am here to save you," Claire said. He didn't think through what she said, but then he felt the sharpness of the stake burying into his back once more, too close to his heart for comfort. It deeply disturbed him that he was brushing against death for the countless time in his long life.

He had no control of his body as his consciousness faded away, barely registering the impact of the hard, cold floor. His thoughts slipped past him quickly, too fast for him to comprehend, but he managed to catch the trace of one. He kept this with him as he lost his awareness, and it made him smile.

To think that I was bested by my own apprentice. I shall teach her. Once I wake...

TO BE CONTINUED...

(Keep on the look-out for the next part of the 'Fool' series, to be called Fool's Misrule. Please let me know any feedback on how I did and what I can do better, or even if you want to share some ideas. Whatever you guys want. Thank you guys so much again for sticking with this.)

~Pierrot.