NaNoWriMo Writings

1457 words

#

Antony Giovanni turned his head to look up at his protege. “And what reason do you grace me with your presence, my dear?”

“What do you think about this for Shayna’s wedding?”

“It looks beautiful.”

She beamed. “What did that dog want?”

“He’s old-fashioned. He wanted to present himself to the Prince.” He chuckled.

“What’s a Prince?”

“A vampire who is in charge of the city. He keeps all the vampires in line. It’s a Camarilla term.”

“But you are the Prince, by your definition.”

Antony smiled. “As usual, my dear, you are brilliant.” He got up from the light blue couch and stretched. “Prince of Providence. I’ll need to get some Primogen and a court and all the trappings.” He laughed. “Imagine that.”

“And he’s Gangrel. He’s not part of the Camarilla.”

“He may be older than when the Gangrel left.” Antony tapped his chin. “Ragest. I wonder what brings him to Providence?”

“Maybe he is on his way to Boston.”

“He’ll be disappointed when he gets there. If there’s no Camarilla here, there aren’t any there, either. Let’s see if he’ll be a good dog and stay in South Providence.” He motioned to the man at the podium, who stepped outside to gather the two guards.

“Have you fed, my dear?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Good. Tomorrow, we entertain guests.”

She actually clapped her hands in glee. “Family?”

“From New York. Your cousins.”

“Oh, good. I can take them…somewhere in this city.”

“No, we’ll be staying here.”

She pouted. Antony reached out and caressed her chin. “Oh, my dear, it’ll be a Wednesday night, and COVID is still rampaging. Very few people are out again.”

“I want to see people again.”

“I’m sure people will come out soon. I have to speak with the new governor to have him lift the mandates. I’m surprised that many of the restaurants here are still in business.”

Three vampires and two ghouls stood around, waiting for Antony to finish conversing with the girl they called “The Princess.” Something had changed when she was Embraced. She was more stupid than usual.

“Frank,” he turned to face the man with the Uzi. “If you would take my niece here home, I have a few other things to take care of this night.”

“Yes, Master,” said the man. He put a hand out to take Ashleigh’s elbow.

“What’s going on? Why can’t I stay?”

“I am just finalizing some things for the visitors tomorrow. Gathering enough vessels, making sure their rooms are to their satisfaction.”

Another pout, and this time, Antony wanted to slap it off her face. He immediately scowled. “Go.”

“Yes, Uncle.” She could tell he was angry at her insolence. She bowed her head and let Frank take her elbow to guide her out the back door to the waiting Lincoln.

Antony passed his hand through his hair. He went to the bar and picked up the phone, dialing quickly. “Gary. Wake the fuck up.”

A sleepy voice came on the other end of the line. “Mornin’, Boss.”

“Meet me at home. We need to go over the books before the Family shows up tomorrow.”

He heard rustling. “Two in the fucking morning.”

“You have fifteen minutes.” He hung up. “Lock up, boys.” Antony went to the back door. The first black Lincoln had left. “Take me by the mayor’s office,” he ordered his ghoul who held the door open for him. He climbed into the leather back seat of the Cadillac.

His driver silently drove him down from Federal Hill, into downtown. He parked right in front of the city hall. None of the cops would bother any car with the low-numbered plates sitting in front of City Hall.

The building was strangely shaped. A rectangle was its facade, with two flanking wings. A typical 1950’s green roof sat exposed like a man going bald. A flag at the top of the building flittered in the winter breeze. He went up the front stairs, tried the door, and it was locked. He pressed a doorbell button to the side, and was buzzed in.

Sitting at the reception desk was a bored security guard, playing some buzzing game on his phone. Antony walked right past him, up the sweeping marble stairs, taking a left at the top. He took a right into the north wing of the building.

He knocked on a door that had painted on its glass, “Chief of Staff.”

“Please come in, Mr. Giovanni.”

He opened the door, passed through the empty secretary’s area, directly into the office of the chief of staff. The blond haired woman with the wide glasses smiled up at him. “You wanted to see me?”

“Thank you for coming in so early,” he said, unbuttoning the bottom button of his jacket before sitting down.

“Or late. I haven’t slept yet.” She chuckled. “What can I do for you?”

“These mandates,” Giovanni said. “They’re killing us.”

“You do understand that it’s because of CDC guidelines.”

“Yes, but some cities around the country have opened up.” Antony made a motion with his hand, not quite dismissal, but more to have her pay attention. “They wear a mask when they come in, take it off when they eat or drink. We can check their temperatures. We can ask for vaccination papers when they start getting them. Something. Please, for God’s sake.”

She frowned, looked down at her desk. “The only thing I can do is ask. The mayor is a democrat, you understand.”

“And the governor is a republican.”

She looked up at him, a momentary twinkle of fear across her eyes. “You wouldn’t go to him, would you?”

“If this isn’t solved in the next few weeks, I’m going to have to.”

“He just got the job.”

“Gina left for Washington, I know.”

“He said he wasn’t going to make sweeping changes.”

Antony rose, rebuttoned his jacket. “Then do something.” He turned and left the room.

“That was worthless,” he muttered, going down the hallway. He looked at the security guard and thought for a moment to take it out on him. Instead, he went to his car, seeing his very faithful bodyguard at the back door.

“Find me a meal,” he ordered. “Something with class.”

#

It was a long fucking walk, on a cold fucking night. Down the hills, up the hills, over the highway and the river, and finally Ragest made it to the North Burial Ground on North Main Street.

It had expanded since he last saw it. He was easily twisted around, not sure where the grave that he needed to go to was.

Probably in the front, he thought, as he backtracked  toward the street. Actually, he found the older graves in the middle of the cemetery. He found the grave he was looking for, Steven Hopkins.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t developed his Protean enough to meld into the earth, so he pulled on the tombstone. It came up easily, leaving a thin hole in ground, wide enough for him to squeeze himself into. He lowered himself down, his feet kicking to find the stone step below. He pulled together the tombstone and reset it on top, plunging the area into darkness. However, he could see in the dark. He let his foot slip and he sat on the step. He had to slide forward, his chest rubbing against a coffin above him, air below him. His foot caught the second step, and he eased himself beneath the coffin.

To any other man, it would be claustrophobic. But he was used to it by now.

He slid off the second step, dropping about four feet to the third step. Now, he could stand straight, and see the stone stairs leading down. Ragest followed the stairs, and he was met with a steel door.

“Well, this is new,” he said, and knocked. A hollow sound echoed back to him. He tried the handle. It gave him a hard time, but it turned. The door opened on rusty hinges.

The room he entered had not been lived in for a long time. Everything was covered over with dust. Before him, a threadbare couch even in its better days in the ’30’s was against one wall. Pillows, blankets, a rolled up rug against the wall, and a counter completed the room. He knew there were two other rooms leading off from this one, but he didn’t bother looking. This was the main room, empty and dusty.

“Where did you go?” He started searching through the dusty papers on the counter. He found a pamphlet to a ski resort, a hotel in the Florida Keys, assorted vacation spots in Las Vegas from the 1960’s.

Did he really leave for Las Vegas? Or the Catskills?

* * *