Disclaimer: Not mine or ever will be.
Beta: Thanks to leakey_lover for the swift and thorough beta, and her excellent suggestions. My thanks also to bookfan85 for her sharp eyes and enthusiasm.
Onward... :D= :
Wilson stepped forward, blocking most of House from the guards' view. "I'm ready," he said.
House automatically joined Wilson's side, but the gesture was unnecessary. Each hulk latched onto a doctor's arm and escorted both through the gates into the Godfather's study.
It was empty, but neither man made a move to sit down when the Nosferatu took up positions in front at the entrance.
After the lavish and gaudy ballroom, this room was an oasis of calm. Dark walnut paneling and furniture floated over an ancient silk Persian carpet, its colors softened from use and age. Tufted leather chairs and sofas dotted the room in shades blending from caramel to fawn.
"Welcome, gentlemen, and happy All Hallow's Eve," said a charming voice with a trace of an Italian accent behind them.
The men whirled on their heels. Wilson immediately fell to one knee….
"Come, come, Doctor Wilson, there is no need for that, or to kiss my ring. We shake hands in the 21st century."
Wilson was surprised at how warm and firm the Borgia's handshake felt.
The old man shifted his gaze. "Dr. House. We haven't been formally introduced. I am the head of La Famiglia Della Rosa. I'm called by a variety of names and titles, Borgia, Borgia Prince, Godfather, Lord, and others less seemly, but I'd be delighted if you would call me by my given name, Cesare. Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like some refreshment?"
A discordant chorus spoke up.
"Yes."
"Thank you, no."
"But I insist."
The head of the family was surprisingly diminutive in stature, but charisma and power rolled off him like a nuclear power plant. He gestured toward the couch, and Wilson jumped in his haste to immediately do as he was bid. House lingered, but Wilson tugged hard on his sleeve, signaling him to sit down.
The Borgia Prince sat across from them. His eyes were a brilliant blue, rivaling House's; his demeanor easy-going and gentle enough to give Wilson lessons. Silver-white hair no longer bordered the forehead in a striking widow's peak, but receded, spilling the wisdom of centuries onto the long, unlined face.
A servant appeared with a golden tray, first offering his master a crystal goblet of frothy crimson. Two crystal glasses were directed toward House and Wilson, a low tumbler of amber liquid that looked and smelled suspiciously like bourbon, and a twin to the Godfather's.
A low chuckle escaped from the Prince, who easily read Wilson's thoughts. "No, Doctor Wilson, don't fret. I assure you, this blood is preferable to the bourbon.
"Let's raise our glasses in a toast," he announced. The crystal sparkled, as did the only jewelry that the elder wore. A heavy gold ring set with a ruby star sapphire.
"May you exist in peace."
The glasses were held aloft, and the doctors took refuge in their respective potions. Wilson took a tentative sip, looked surprised, and relaxed.
"Delicious, my lord," Wilson said, swirling the remaining liquid in the bottom of his glass.
"I thought the concoction would be to your taste. Over half of it comes from the sample you sent us of Dr. House's blood."
The Borgia could not have looked more pleased than when both men began coughing and choking.
Recovering first, House sputtered, "Wilson, you sneaky bastard."
"House, my hands were tied. You insisted on coming to the ball, so I had to register you as my minion," responded Wilson while barely keeping his indignation under control.
"Boys, please," said the head of the clan. "Save the foreplay for later."
Later. Both men clued onto that word and let down their guard a hairsbreadth. Perhaps Wilson had a future after all.
Another chuckle escaped the Godfather. "The two of you are quite amusing, though you make an unlikely pair." Cesare became serious. "An unholy alliance."
Both men felt chills run up their spines. Neither one looked at the other, but their legs moved and touched.
"You two don't know, do you? Dr House comes from a family of vampire hunters and slayers." The patriarch's eyes glittered as he sat forward. "A vampire and vampire hunter in a relationship. That only happens once every hundred years."
The dazzling eyes hypnotized House as the Prince addressed him. "The strong upbringing you received tempered the metal within you while twisting your soul to accommodate a vampire in your life."
"You must be mistaken, Big Daddy—"
"—'Godfather,' you idiot," Wilson hissed under his breath.
"Godfather. My father was not my biological dad."
"Who said anything about your father?" The Borgia mouth drew into a thin line. "I'm speaking about your mother. You inherited your hunter genes from the slayer side of your family. The man who raised you contributed strength of character to help you wield your power."
The room was as quiet as a morgue as the information sank in.
Wilson spoke first. "Is that why House wasn't transported with me? Because he's a vampire hunter?"
"Yes. My techs were overloaded with blood tests for the ball, and the report did not reach my desk until this afternoon. Unfortunately, even the vampire world runs on committee and consensus, and it took a little coaxing on my part to get your paperwork approved."
House was startled when the lights dimmed, and the elegant gentleman morphed into a dry husk with flaming eyes and blackened spikes for teeth. He blinked and the light and the figure in front of him returned to normal. He looked at Wilson, who was drinking as if nothing had happened. House regarded his glass and wondered if he had swallowed the liquor too quickly.
"My apologies for the inconvenience and delay." said the Godfather.
"However, I didn't bring you here to discuss your family tree, but mine, and to recognize Doctor Wilson for services rendered."
"Godfather, you must be mistak—"
"—Utshay upway, you oronmay." House spoke from the side of his mouth.
"Your partner is right. It is not in your best interests to prove me wrong…but I'm not mistaken.
"You may have noticed that I have been addressing you, Doctor Wilson, by your professional title rather than by your grade level within La Famiglia. It is because of this." A folder appeared on the couch next to the Borgia, who handed it to Wilson. "Here. Read."
House scanned the information over Wilson's shoulder. "They're Wilson's patients."
The silver-haired vampire nodded in agreement. "A good three dozen. Mortal descendents of my offspring who developed cancer. I ran the numbers past my bean counters. They told me you have had an inordinate amount of my progeny under your care, and you lengthened their survival. Our diviners believe family members unconsciously sought you out due to our vampiric connection. Call me a foolish old man, but I care for my living heirs as much as my undead.
"Stand up, Doctor Wilson."
Wilson towered over the legend. The Prince flicked imaginary dust off the oncologist's black lapel on his tux, and there appeared a small gold insignia of a knight's helmet. House expected Wilson to be the recipient of a peck on each cheek, but instead the men shook hands as the Godfather intoned, "Congratulazioni, Cavalieri Doctor Wilson."
Wilson beamed a smile of relief as he sat back down on the sofa, and winked at House.
"I have also reviewed your personnel file, Doctor, and find your paranormal skills below normal for someone who has been in La Famiglia for this amount of time."
The smile froze on Wilson's face.
"I want to remedy that right away." He snapped his slender fingers, and a package suddenly appeared in Wilson's hands.
"This is a spell book. Do you know Latin?"
The dark-eyed vampire nodded.
"Good. This is written in a combination of Latin and Romanian with a touch of Sanskrit, but my family tells me it is translatable to someone with an education in Latin. The book is a rare treasure, my boy. Take care of it well."
The Borgia snapped his fingers again, and the book disappeared. "It will be waiting in your limousine when you leave."
Tapping his index finger to his lips, the Prince became solemn. "There is one last gift. To speak frankly, I've given a lot of thought to whether you are ready. Very few have been granted such largesse because the potential for abuse is great, but a hunter joining with a slayer is a significant event.
"We are moving toward apocalyptic times."
House and Wilson looked at each other.
"I count on your humanity and your adherence to the Hippocratic oath to guide you toward the right decisions."
The Borgia never looked so princely until that moment. He took off his ring and handed it to a small stooped man who stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing a leather apron and magnifiers. "Here, Niccolo, two strokes shall do."
Without a word, the craftsman bowed his way to a small workbench. The purr of a file stroked gently at the shank of the ring.
On the second downstroke, the Godfather raised his hand and the room fell quiet. The fingertips steepled in front of his mouth and he closed his eyes.
"Make that three."
The sound of metal against metal zippered through the air and stopped.
"Which vial, my lord?
"The da Vinci."
The craftsman returned and bowed as he presented a petite gilded flask to the Godfather and vanished back into a dark corner.
The haloed head nodded, and Wilson leaned over and accepted the tiny bottle. Blue and brown eyes squinted into the light to see what it held. There was a sprinkling of yellow flecks at the bottom.
Wilson spoke, "Does this come with instructions?"
"If you are who I think you are, you will know when the time is right, my son."
The Godfather stood up and signaled the end of the audience, and the guards stepped forward. "I have kept you too long. Please go and enjoy yourselves."
House and Wilson bowed and followed the Nosferatu out of the study. The spell did not break until the sound of the crowd and music washed over them.
House was the first to return to reality. "Holy crap. We're superheroes."
"Didn't you catch the part about caution and the apocalypse?" Wilson asked with a touch of asperity as he slipped the vial inside the breast pocket of his jacket.
"That's what you heard. Did you fall asleep when Pops announced that I'm a vampire hunter?"
"No, but don't expect me to be surprised. You were stalking me long before we became a couple."
"Admit it, Wilson. We go together like the rhinovirus and nose snot."
Wilson hesitated. "I know I'm going to regret asking…."
"I'm annoying and you're always running away."
As Wilson tried to untangle the logic of House's observation, the vampire hunter sprinted over to the iron door.
"House, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Wilson was breathing down his partner's neck.
With hand upon the handle, House said, "Now that I've seen what's behind door number one, I want to—"
"No! I won't let you!"
Wilson wrestled away the hand.
"Won't?" House pointed to the gold lapel pin. "Where are your courtly manners, Sir Jimmy?"
"I don't have the time to practice chivalry when you're determined to get yourself killed!"
House had rarely seen Wilson so furious. "We survived the Godfather, now I want to see the Hell Pit you talk so much about."
"Yes, it's all my fault for bringing it up. I suppose if I talked about cars you would want to stand in the middle of the highway.
"Can you possibly understand how close we came to getting an engraved one-way ticket to that room?" Wilson involuntarily shuddered, drawing a hand across his eyes as he tried to calm down.
"Let's leave, OK? Would you settle for a detailed description of the Pit on our drive home?"
Nodding, House gave in. Wilson looked frazzled.
They both had quite enough surprises for one night.
Just as the men were about to climb the stairway, a voice shrieked from the crowd. "Where have you been all evening. Have you no respect?!"
House saw Wilson freeze on the first step, softly muttering, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"
By the time Wilson turned around he was wearing a pleasant expression on his face as he walked over to an incredibly stunning and statuesque blonde.
"Sire," he bowed.
Leaning against the banister, House couldn't wait to see the little drama that was sure to unfold. So this was Zehava, the human Uzi. And so named because the inventor said he once dated her, claiming she was his inspiration.
The tall, leggy blonde had a figure to make beauty contestants hide away in shame. House's hands itched to touch her tempting curves.
Her soft blonde hair was piled high upon her head with tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. Her exotic doe-shaped eyes sparkled like big country sky. Judging by her creamy complexion and youthful appearance, she could be no older than twenty when she was embraced, but by the length and cut of her scarlet gown, she was more than one hundred. She could have been a model for Charles Dana Gibson.
"You were sneaking out without seeing me!"
The voice could combust a fireproof building.
Wilson's slaked the flames with his lie. "Of course not, Sire. I've been looking for you since I arrived. I expressly wanted you to meet my minion."
House felt fingers digging into his upper arm as he was yanked away from the safety of the railing.
"Zehava, this is Dr. Gregory House. Greg, I know how pleased you are to finally meet my sire, Dr. Zehava Peterson, whom I told you so much about."
As in…run in the other direction as if your life depended on it, House thought, but Wilson's fingers were reminding him to keep his tongue under wraps. "Can't tell you all the kind words Wilson's said about you."
That little remark earned him a quick pinch before Wilson let go of his arm, but it was worth it, and Zehava seemed not to notice. She was intent on neutering her childe and his minion with the shrillness of her voice, but her eyes and words were weapons too.
Twin sapphires lasered up and down House's body as her mouth turned down at the corners. "It took you over fifteen years to choose a minion, and this is what you picked?! A string bean with thinning hair?"
Wilson lost his composure and waved a finger. "No, he's not what I chose, but lucky for me, he picked me and saved my life. I didn't think he would want anything to do with a vampire, thanks to you, Mom."
Okaaay. House could recognize a dysfunctional family argument when he heard one, even if the family were vampires. If no one put a stop to it, he was never going to get out of there.
Besides, Wilson's loyal words created a rising need in him, and he wanted to get back to the apartment as soon as possible.
Taking a stab at peace negotiations, he said, "Did you hear about Wilson's promotion? The Godfather made him a cavalieri."
The announcement did not have the expected effect.
Hands on her hips. "Finally! I've never had a childe move so slowly through the ranks. I thought for sure you were going to bring dishonor to me and end up in the Hell Pit tonight."
The Hell Pit! House checked Wilson and Zehava. Looked like neither was going to give in anytime soon.
Zehava was drawing more blood than Wilson. He was beginning to whine like a hormonal teenager.
"You haven't exactly been around to mentor me…."
House decided it was the perfect time to go exploring.
Working his way back through the crowd, House was again in front of the iron door. The metal exterior felt cool. How bad could it be?
He pulled on the handle and was surprised at how heavy it felt. The door resembled the thickness and mechanism on a bank vault, opening slowly on its own terms.
He stepped forward…
…and perdition hit him full in the face.
House expected a narrow well with fire at the bottom, but this landscape exceeded Hieronymus Bosch's vision. A holocaust stretched out before him. It was so vast he could make out the curvature of the earth. The heat was repulsive, but the stench made him gag. This universe was a garbage dump for hatred, anger, and war, and an incinerator to burn flesh from anything that walked, flew, or swam. Every bad thought or deed became a citizen in this Netherworld.
House filled his lungs with ballroom air before returning to the roiling panorama. Geysers shot flames into the air. What was this? Hell?
He could make out unhuman stick figures moving to and fro like industrious ants, fueling millions of small fires, some on their own skinless and boneless bodies as if the blazes were a rash. Everything was being consumed. He watched one figure burn up and disappear in an echoing howl, only to spring up again and go about parceling out refuse into stacks as if nothing happened, while others carted it away.
Wilson was right. No one should ever have to see this. Certainly not experience it.
House found the vault handle. He needed to get away, but his sweat-soaked hands could not gain purchase on the heavy door.
As the door began to swing closed, he felt a forceful shove. His fingers and feet scrabbled at the portal. A smash to his head and he was falling….
tbc…
Thank you for reading. Any comments always welcome.