by Gavin Green
Stepping into a small study, Tomasino shut the door behind us and said something. I didn't catch what he said because the room smelled strongly of Pledge, which distracted me for a few seconds. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Beck?" he asked, getting my attention.
"Uh, no," I answered, turning to him. "Everything's fine. What can I do for you, sir?"
"Let's have a seat." Tomasino gestured to the two padded chairs somewhat facing each other, separated by a small, ornate wooden table. When we both eased into our seats, he said, "I would begin with pleasantries, but I believe we both share the desire to skip idle banter and get to the heart of a matter."
I tried to grin when I said, "I don't even like wasting time agreeing with that."
His smile at my response seemed genuine. "I've heard a thing or two about you, Mr. Beck," he began. "For instance, I know you were quite capable of doing more than merely tossing me out of the way . . ."
I didn't really want to discuss flinging my new Doyen through a wall, but he evidently did. Hey, his party, his rules. "Yeah, maybe, but I wasn't pissed off at you or anything. You had a shitty C.O. who put you in some bad spots. Despite her stupid-ass choices, you still tried to do your job." Tomasino reluctantly nodded. "It takes serious balls to stand against Viggo, and you did it more than once. I respect that."
"Not that it did much good," he said with a wry grin.
"It made him think highly of you, and that's not easy to do." I shifted in my chair and asked a similar question in return. "So, you turned your wrist. Why'd you only give me the flat of your blade?"
Tomasino thought about it for a second. "Honestly, the main reason I did so was because I didn't want your sire to truly lose his temper. As you said, I did what was required and attempted to defend the Doyenne, however ineffectual I might be against the Veleti. And I was. I presumed he would take less affront of a full attack on him than on his new scion. I didn't want his rage focused on me."
"There's no shame in that, sir. No one would want Viggo coming down on them."
"I suppose," he replied, and then seemed to refocus his thoughts. "One other subject, Mr. Beck, and then we can rejoin the others. When you and your sire came to the art gallery that evening . . . I wonder if the Veleti knew how events would play out. He chose a private place, yet surrounded by humans. He used blood-bound Adepts as informants. He met with the Doyenne in a restricted setting, rather than at a formal Gathering or on Civil Ground. He very well may have known Lady Le Meur's foolish reaction, perhaps even counted on it." He sat forward and asked, "Did Viggo plan to remove her that night?"
That was a damn good question, and I didn't have an answer.
BALCONY
I always figured Skin was sort of a hustler, but I didn't have any proof until we made a bet while playing pool. We'd both won a game against each other. Before we started the tiebreaker, I stupidly suggested a wager. His beady little Irish eyes lit up, and I knew right then I made a mistake. He was sandbagging during our first two games. That fucker wasted no time clearing the table, never missing a shot.
Skin was also a bullshitter, telling stories of wild things he'd done and famous people he'd met. The whole time of circling the table and sinking balls, he never shut up. I didn't mind. Hell, I didn't even mind being suckered; he was entertaining, especially at a dull party where most of the other hemos pretty much ignored me.
I stepped out of the way to let Skin drop the 8-ball when I saw Cordell by himself out on the balcony. He had his back to me, looking out over the city lights. I walked out there and leaned on the railing next to him. Keeping my eyes fixed on the view of downtown at night, I said, "I couldn't have imagined anything like all of this if they paid me. How about you, Cord?"
He turned his head and asked, "Do I know you?"
I'd forgotten that the infliction messed with my vocal chords a little. I'd gotten used to it, but old friends wouldn't recognize my voice over the phone anymore. "It's me, man - Leo." Cordell flinched and took a half step away. "Yeah, I know," I said, understanding his reaction. "I'm not used to the new me, either."
He silently studied my profile. I just kept looking out at the lights. "Leo, you -" he began and faltered. "The Veleti - that monster - he brought you into the night?"
I shrugged. "It was either this, or he got to watch me die . . . slow and painful. He left it up to me. Afraid of death or too stubborn to give up, I'm not sure. Maybe I was both. Right or wrong, I chose this."
"But - but becoming a scion of the Deviant fiend?" Cord said with disgust. "To be a cursed child of the devil, that's what you've chosen. I don't know you anymore."
When he turned to walk away, I barked, "That's bullshit, Cord!" He stopped, but didn't turn back around. "I'm still me, at least on the inside. No one and nothing is going to change that." Cordell stood still for another second, and then started walking away again. "You fucking coward," I growled. That got his attention. I went on as he spun to face me. "No matter what I've gone through, I always looked after my friends. You know that. Hell, Cord, you've done the same. Maybe it's you who isn't the same anymore, and you took the easy way out. I can't believe my friend would replace old trust with new hatred."
He came right up in front of me, glaring down into my eyes. "You know better than to call me a coward."
"And you should know that I'm nobody's bitch." I stared back at him for a second, but my heart wasn't in it. I kept my dark ardor in check. Sighing, I continued in a softer tone. "Dammit, Cord, I'm not the Veleti. I couldn't be, and I don't wanna be. I'm Leo, you're my friend, and we've both been through some very surreal shit. It hasn't changed who we are, has it?"
Cordell's light brown eyes lost their intensity, and he took a step back. "I don't have all the facts yet," he replied with a calmer voice. "The truth isn't as easy to find anymore. I'll think about what you said, Leo, but my opinion of your sire hasn't changed. The things I saw him do . . ."
"Yeah, him - not me," I said. "Look, man, forget our sires or a second. We can -" I stopped myself short, not wanting to push. I'd said what I wanted to. "Alright, I'll stop bothering you. But if you ever need me, or just wanna talk . . . you've got my number."
He stood there uncertainly for a second, and then walked away. I didn't feel much better about where our friendship was, but at least he didn't throw me off the balcony.
I was still out there a few minutes later when two figures approached from my left. Barnabus was coming over to me with what was obviously another Deviant next to him. I was introduced to Rolando Lucida. And damn, Clara was right - looking at him made me feel better about my new looks.
Rolando, as he gruffly preferred to be called by fellow Deviants, had four limbs and a head . . . and that's about as human as he got. He was short with an elongated skull. His legs were long and his torso was squat. His skin . . . Shit, he didn't have skin; it was a chaotic patchwork of fur and scales. Rolando had the ears and disgusting nose of a bat, overly large snake eyes, a tusked mouth like a boar, and a hard fin on top of his scaly bald head. Holy shit, he was one ugly hemo.
He stood there fussing with his new clothes - all denim, except for hiking boots - while Barnabus told me about him. The recently-returned Deviant was an explorer, all underground. He'd been part of the city's collective for decades, but was rarely seen. Evidently, there were a lot of subterranean caverns and lakes in the Midwest, too deep and unreachable for normal archeological ventures.
Hearing that, it made sense that Runa's quest to go find Roland sounded like a longshot. But, there he was. Either Runa somehow found him, or he was coming back to the surface anyway. Either way, it was clear by the way the explorer kept looking up that he wasn't used to seeing stars above him.
Rolando didn't seem like a smooth talker, either, but I had no problem with that. He asked if I'd been presented, gave a nod when I said yes, and then watched Tomasino chat with some female hemo in a checkered dress further along the wide balcony. That's when I noticed the rock climber's hammer in his belt loop. If I'
d known weapons were permitted, I would've loaded up.
It was a few minutes later, after Barnabus and Rolando had moved on, that I noticed a hush in the hum of conversation inside. Glancing back into the penthouse, I saw Viggo striding through the living room. Any nearby hemos clammed up when he walked by. A few even bowed their heads. My sire didn't even look at them. Conversations resumed after he went down a hallway and out of sight. I told myself that sooner or later that night, I'd be the one searching him out for a talk instead of vice versa.
Not long after Viggo's arrival, the formalities of the Gathering had begun. Tomasino stood in front of a big corner fireplace (obviously unlit) in the living room, where he spoke to the crowd. His short speech was mostly about honor - honored to be Doyen, honored to be endorsed by the Veleti. He ended by saying he expected the collective to honor and respect the individuals selected for seats on his council. It was a pretty smooth segue into his next order of business.
Tomasino named the elder Dorian Riniker as counselor; a right-hand man, I guess. Barnabus and the Adept Nathan Powell were asked to keep their places as emissaries. Former Outsider emissary Vincent Zapada had stepped down, leaving a vacancy. However, a newcomer of that faction had applied to take Zapada's place. I thought he was speaking of Grigori Olinchenko until the woman in the checkered dress stepped forward.
It was technically a dress, but something like you'd see at a Highland Games festival. It was a long tartan skirt of green and black, with a matching wide sash from hip to opposite shoulder. Under that was a white shirt with puffy sleeves. The woman herself was fairly attractive; average height and build, dark brown hair halfway down her back, and light eyes. The real appeal, though, was her air of confidence.
Given permission to speak, she turned and addressed the crowd. In a thick accent (I learned later it was Scottish), she said her name was Kyla Mackenzie. Getting right to the point, she told everyone that she'd known Jack Fletcher for a very long time. They fought together in clan skirmishes and against the English in centuries past. She knew Fletcher had a wild heart; she'd come to tame it again. And, if allowed to be emissary, she'd bring honor back to her faction.
It was a nice speech, but Mackenzie was just another Outsider - unpredictable and with anger issues. In my mind, none of them except Cordell had any honor to begin with.
Then I found out why Rolando Lucida was called for. Tomasino named him the new enforcer. He was a fellow Deviant and all, but . . . that guy? I was judging by appearances, which normally isn't fair; in the case of hemos, extremely so. For all I knew, Senor Ugly was a damn juggernaut.
Not one for public speaking, Rolando simply told everyone that he was impartial and expected everyone to abide by the Doyen's laws. There would be no leniency, and penalties would be harsh. Without any bullshit, he said how it'd be - I liked that. It reminded me of a couple drill sergeants I trained under.
I leaned against one of the open glass doors and watched the small crowd begin to fan out and mingle again. Over by the kitchen, I saw Mackenzie talking with Viggo. I left the balcony and made my way over to them. The Outsider spoke for another few seconds until she realized she was between two large and gruesome Deviants, neither of whom appeared to be interested in her words.
When Mackenzie smoothly excused herself, I said to Viggo, "I think we should talk, sir."
He regarded me for a second before saying, "I was under the impression you had taken issue with me for some reason. That has changed, I presume?"
"No, it hasn't," I answered honestly. "I just needed to get my head straight first."
"And what would you like to discuss, my scion?" There was a hint of challenge in his voice.
I held back the sarcastic reply that came to mind. "There's a room back that way where we can talk privately," I said instead. "Would you join me, sire?"
Viggo nodded, and we began walking. Unlike the chat I had with Cordell, I had to hammer my point home until he relented . . . Or until he blood-bound me again to stop me from being a pain in the ass, whichever came first.
ASSURANCES
The door to the study I formerly spoke with Tomasino in was open, although the room was occupied. Dominic Riva was talking with the artist Isabel Greco when we interrupted them. I wanted that specific room for its calming, Pledge-scented effect. With Viggo behind me, I said, "We need this room. There are others to choose from."
Greco started to object when Riva cut her off, saying, "Sure, no problem." I imagine Viggo gave him some sign to get his ass out. The blood-bound douche even dusted the seat off after he stood. "There you are, Veleti. We'll move along." He took the confused Greco by the arm and led her out past us.
I shut the door as Viggo sat. "I have seen similar behavior like yours from Aldo," he commented while I took the seat facing him. "We were further along in our relationship than you and I are. His moodiness was fueled by jealousy - envious of my power, covetous of my wealth. It caused a rift for a time. Revolt from one's child is to be expected, and comes wearing any number of masks. Is that the basis of this?"
"Nope, not one bit," I calmly replied. "I'm not a greedy prick like Aldo. I'm not angry. I'm not resentful."
Viggo relaxed a little. "I would have been surprised if you were. I never saw you as that type, Leo. That being said, you did imply there was an issue between us. So, if we are not here to discuss a grudge or some sort of irritation on your part, what topic did you have in mind?"
I didn't want to dwell on the problems anymore, just the solution. I figured Viggo was going to want something specific at the back end of this, and I'd have to play dirty to get what I wanted. "Sir, I think you should rest now."
"Rest? Would you care to elaborate?"
"Yeah, I mean, uh, the Eidolon siesta, the millennium nap. You know what I mean. You're long overdue." When he frowned, I pushed. "Look, you fulfilled your oath. It's over. After all those centuries of watching over my line as you promised, it's done. You kept that promise and then some. Sir, you're world-weary, I've noticed it for months. Maybe it's tough to accept after so long, but you can stop now. You need to."
Viggo turned his head away toward the window. I couldn't tell what was going on in his head. "I have just sired you," he quietly said. "How can I leave you now? You are so new into this dark world . . ." He then looked back to me with an indignant glare and asked, "Have I not been fair and kind to you, Leo? Have I not been generous? Why do you wish me away?"
I couldn't tell if he was genuinely offended, or if he was trying to play me so there'd be no objection when he kept on with his hemo-hoarding compulsion. Honestly, I wasn't affected either way. "Wait a second, sir. This isn't about me pushing you away. This is for your benefit. You said you'd rest when your oath was fulfilled. Well, it's fulfilled. I'm the last of my line."
"That does not mean my work is complete. You are my scion. I would be remiss in my duty as a sire to leave you to your own devices so soon. I watched over my other scions for years."
I believed Viggo was sincere with that last bit. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. It's just that I don't want to . . ." I hesitated, thinking of turning it up a notch. Sure, what the hell. "Dammit, don't you get it? I felt guilty enough knowing I was the reason you stuck around so long. Now you no longer have to, and you still linger out of a different sense of obligation. All because of me - I did this to you."
"I am grateful for your selfless concern, but . . . you still have much to learn."
I sat forward and said, "I know. I know I do. And of course I don't want you gone, but I couldn't live with myself if you stayed. How's that for selfless?" Viggo was about to speak, but I pressed my case before he could. "It's not fair to keep you here any longer, sir. You're tired. I see it. You deserve to rest now. You've earned it. I've already learned a lot from you; I can go to the other Deviants for anything else."
Viggo seemed to accept my logic. Well, most of it. "And which one would you turn to, Leo? Neva - fine company, no doubt - but she obviously cannot offer counsel
. You and Roach are on tenuous terms at best. I would not consider Mr. O'Shaughnessy a fitting mentor, unless you choose to learn foul jokes and various ways to relieve fools of their money. Clara does have sporadic insights, but she also has the mind of a young girl. Gothi Michael knows scant more than you do. Mr. Lucida would likely refuse. And Mr. Merritt's time will be taken for the foreseeable future."
"Why do I have the feeling you already have someone else in mind?"
"Because you know me well enough," Viggo answered simply. He sat straighter in his chair and moved on with his own agenda. "You have made a compelling case, Leo. I was not fully aware of the inner struggle you faced. And, truth be known, you are correct; I long to slumber. However, I require some assurances so that my sleep is not troubled . . ."
"Like a mentor?"
Viggo nodded. "That is one assurance, yes, with provisions."
"I should tell you now, sir; this won't be one-sided. You'll have to barter for your assurances." I didn't plan to show my cards at that point, but I couldn't be a sneaky prick and spring it on him later.
His thick eyebrows rose, and one corner of his mouth curled upward - holy shit, a rare Viggo smile. "Ah, a scion after my own dark heart," he said. "Very well, let us see how you fare."
I agreed to have a mentor of Viggo's choice, someone I could turn to with any problem or question. In return, I wanted Traeg and Gwen turned over to my care. I also requested any other minions of his that would age dramatically or die if he released them.
No, I wasn't hoarding. I just wanted to save who I could, and let them retain their normal lifestyles. In Gwen's case - and any others who hadn't been minions too long - I planned to stop feeding blood. Once they were clean, I'd give them the choice of being my minion. I was not going to force or coerce anyone into being my servant. And no, I didn't tell Viggo any of that.
He agreed to my request, but amended that his oldest minions could choose between me and Aldo (if he wanted them). Besides Rune, I had no idea how many other old minions he had. It was a responsibility I really didn't want. I didn't know what those old minions did for Viggo, and I didn't care. If my plan worked out, I was gonna have enough on my plate to deal with. I privately hoped they all chose Aldo.
