Brothers of Darkness

Chapter 4: Prelude Michael, Part 4

At home, Michael took a shower and changed his clothes. His mother got home from work and made dinner. He ate. Patrick came shuffling in the door, smelling like alcohol and cracking jokes. Despite the fact there was a dead butler at the manor, the police didn't come. The world moved on like always, and Michael floated above it in a surreal bubble of confusion.

Maybe I dreamed it? He ducked into the bathroom and fished through the hamper for his jeans. Speckled and smeared with blood, they matched his memories. Something had happened at that house.

There was a word for what those people were; what he thought they were, but it felt ridiculous on his tongue. Vampires weren't real. They couldn't be. And yet, there they'd been, or something very like them. He'd seen their fangs. He'd seen them stop at the patch of sunlight. There was no other explanation and, despite the absurdity, so many things made sense now. Why the house was deserted in the daytime, why there was a secret door and coffin-like boxes in the basement. Why they hadn't gone to the police yet. It was because they couldn't risk an investigation!

With that realization, Michael relaxed. He was safe. They couldn't do anything to him because he knew; he knew what they were and, if they so much as breathed wrong, he'd tell everyone. He'd take the police to the manor in the daytime, show them the secret door and lead them down to the basement. He'd tell the whole God damned world. Then what would they do?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized his silence was worth something. They had plenty of money. They could afford to give him some. No, they should give him some. He deserved it.

He jammed the jeans back in the hamper and strode through the house. His mom and Patrick were on the couch and he tossed, "I'll be back," at them before he headed out the door. As it shut behind him, he heard Patrick laughingly call, "Bring some more beer."

***

Lights blazed in the manor when Michael parked the Geo. He climbed out, straightened his shoulders, and marched to the front porch where he pounded on the door. f**k having to slink in the side entrance.

The door opened and Troy stared at him. "Well, well, you came back."

Michael flinched back. His cowardice embarrassed him, and he snapped out, "Damn straight I came back. I want to talk to Claudius. Now."

Troy stepped aside so he could enter. "Then come on in."

Michael walked into the entrance hall. People no, vampiresstood around in tiny clusters, holding glasses of red wine. No, not wine. I bet that's blood.

With that thought, Michael wasn't so sure of himself, but he'd be damned if he'd let them know it!

He followed Troy past the curious stares, down the hallway, toward the office. As they walked, they passed the three women from the other night. The ladies giggled and waved at him. Their full lips curved into fanged smiles and they laughed when he shied away.

Troy stopped and held the office door open. "Wait here. I'll fetch Claudius."

Michael hesitated. He pictured Geoffrey lying on the floor in a pool of blood, his face and head mutilated. He couldn't face that room, but he didn't have a choice. Without waiting for a response, Troy walked away and there was nothing for him to do but go inside.

Come on, you can do it. Go in there and get this s**t over with.

He forced his feet to move over the threshold, then into the room. The silver sword he'd used on Geoffrey was clean and hanging on the wall above the old portrait. What did you expect? Did you think they left the mess?

He sat in the green velvet chair and waited. When Claudius swept through the door, Michael's heart froze in his chest. The master took his place behind the desk. Troy followed and stopped to loom over Michael like an amused vulture.

The air in the room grew thicker until Michal found it hard to breathe, let alone form words. He could feel something radiating from the kid, something that left goosebumps trailing over his arms.

When Michael didn't speak, Claudius snapped, "What do you want?"

This guy is just a kid, Michael reminded himself. I'm older than he is. He's a stupid kid and I'm smarter. I'll show him. He cleared his throat and announced with as much bravado as he could muster, "I know what you are."

Claudius arched a single brow and tapped his fingers on the desk. "Do you?"

"I do," Michael insisted. "You're" the word stuck, as if it was too silly to say. "You're vampires."

"It seems you're more intelligent than I gave you credit for." Claudius leaned back in his chair. "So, we're vampires. What of it?"

Shit. Michael had expected him to deny it. Some rational part of himself even hoped Claudius would laugh and churn out an explanation that made more sense. His voice turned hard to hide his discomfort. "If you want me to keep quiet, you're gonna have to make it worth my while. I want one million dollars, in cash, or I tell everyone I can find."

Claudius made a strange noise in his throat and stood, his back to Michael and his eyes on the portrait that hung over his desk. "Do you know who this is?"

Michael blinked at the topic change. "What?"

"The portrait." Claudius turned to face him, his eyes cold fire. "He was my father." Claudius fetched the silver sword down from the wall and Michael shifted uncomfortably. The young man held it at arm's length, as if checking the edge. "Do you know what happened to him?"

The atmosphere in the room changed perceptibly. Michael looked to the door for escape, only to see Troy in front of it, that fanged smile on his face.

"No."

Claudius' tone was emotionless. "I fought him, with this sword. And do you know what I learned?"

Beads of sweat popped out on Michael's forehead. "Uh, no?"

"I learned it's all rather pointless. Even a worthy foe is not so worthy once they've fallen at your feet in a pool of their own blood. And an unworthy foe. Well." He looked to Troy. "Deal with him."

Michael yelped and tried to get out of the chair, but Troy was too fast. He pinned him back, fangs flashing as he bit through his throat. Michael screamed and fought, hands and arms flailing. He managed to pitch himself, chair and all, backwards, and scrambled away, his neck torn and screaming in pain. He pressed a hand to it and came away with a palm full of blood. His own blood.

Oh f**k.

Troy lunged at him again, Michael dodged, but only barely. The bald vampire grabbed him and threw him across the room. He smashed into one of the display cases in a flurry of glass and bits of wood.

"Watch the furniture!" Claudius shouted.

Michael tried to scramble to his feet, but his leg wouldn't work right. He looked down and saw it bent at an odd angle. Oh f**k, it's broken. Oh f**k. Oh

Troy grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him up. He shrieked as his weight landed on his leg. He had a momentary glimpse of Troy's flashing fangs before the vampire ripped into his throat again.

The pain was more than Michael could stand. It radiated out from the bite, like fire under his skin. He twitched and tried to scream, though the sound was more a gurgle than a cry. The edges of his vision turned black and the room smeared shiny glass cabinets, shiny metal weapons.

"Stop!"

Troy obeyed Claudius' command and dropped his prey back to the floor in a bloody heap. Michael choked on his own blood and tried to stem the flow with his hand. Oh God.

Claudius stood over him, a self-satisfied smirk on his cold face. "You thought you could get the best of me? You, a petty mortal. Where is your cleverness now? You're out of your depth and your fear flows out behind you in crimson rivers. Death stands in the shadows, ready to drag you to hell. Was it worth it?"

Troy leaned casually on the desk. "Death is too good for someone like this. I got a better idea."

Claudius snapped his attention to his subordinate, no doubt angry his poetic scene was interrupted. "And what would that be?"

"We should keep him. Since he killed Geoffrey, we're shorthanded."

Claudius clucked his tongue and looked over Michael's bleeding, broken form. "We have plenty of humans, I don't want more. Especially one we can't trust."

Troy's cruel eyes turned crueler. "Then don't leave him human. Have someone turn him." His gaze shifted to the group of vampires who stood in the hall, no doubt drawn by the noise. Among them was a young woman in a red dress, her eyes on the floor. "Elsa's a fairly new vampire and, since Lennon turned her, she doesn't have any powers to pass on. Of course, you could kill him, if you think that would be a better punishment. I just thought dragging it out might make him think twice."

The room tilted. Claudius' answer turned into an ocean of unintelligible words in Michael's ears. He tried to concentrate on what was happening, but it slipped through his grasp. Not like this. I can't die like this.

"turn him."

Though Michael missed the beginning of the sentence he knew those words were a command. He looked up. The woman in the red dress, who must be Elsa, stood near him. Like all the other women there she was beautiful. Hell, even the men were beautiful. He was dying, surrounded by the beautiful people.

Elsa looked down at him, pity in her eyes. The command was repeated and her shoulders slouched with defeat. She knelt down, her knees in his blood. It was red, like her dress, like her lips, like the ring slowly expanding around Michael's vision; a red circle slowly expanding to blot out the world.

Elsa wrinkled her nose at the mess on his neck and lifted his arm to her mouth. He felt her breath on his skin as she hesitated. Then, with a last look to Claudius, she bit.

Michael gave a gurgle; a gurgle of blood, death, fear. Pain radiated from the bite, hot and burning, then morphed to something else; cool soothing ocean waves that lapped over him. He looked at her, looked at her red lips wrapped around his arm, the curl of hair that fell in her face, and those deep brown eyes; eyes filled with pity. Pity for him. Pity for her, and pity for the new life he would lead.

A life of punishment.

Who's the clever one now?