The Nightwillow

Chapter 8

What had Michael gotten himself into?

After Micah's swift departure, the two vampires spent several minutes in shocked silence. The girl's father had not only known what the two of them were, but he had intimate knowledge of their histories. Few creatures knew Fitz's past, and there were none alive that knew his father. After all, Fitz's father had been gone for several centuries. Tabbris was a human, so how could he possibly be that old? It didn't make sense.

Yet the man also knew that Michael had been spying on the house for weeks. He knew that Michael had been watching the girl intently, pulled there by an inexplicable force that Michael could not explain.

And what was all this talk of being chosen? Michael chose his fate. He chose his victims. He controlled his own life. Since making the choice to be turned, Michael set his own path. There was no destiny. There was no one controlling him. Even in the Bible people had their free will. He chose his own way, so what was all the "chosen" nonsense?

Whatever it was, Michael wanted none of it. The girl was just a girl. That was it. He could forget her. He could walk away from all this and just return to the city.

But he knew he couldn't.

Even if he could forget the girl, which these past weeks proved he could not, Tabbris would ruin his reputation. The man, or whatever he was, held an immense amount of power. It wasn't the kind of power men like Leeds had. It went beyond that. It was a quiet influence. Michael realized just how much Fitz had understated the power Micah Tabbris held until the man loomed over them both. If Michael left now, Tabbris' influence would go way beyond the city...or even the state. It would travel with Michael wherever he went. He was sure of it.

And no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, it wasn't even the idea of losing his business that kept him in the Hollow now. It was her. The inexplicable draw she had over him. It was a consuming curiosity that ate away at him from the inside. A curiosity that no distraction could cure.

Even as he sat in the plush armchair watching the dust do its dance in the last small ray of moonlight peeking through the crack in the dark curtains, he could not get her out of his head. The seed of obsessive curiosity had been planted in him, and he could not keep it from taking root.

"The game is set," Fitz announced as he returned to the room with another glass of blood.

"Mmhmmm," Michael murmured, lost in his thoughts.

"If you're going to be that distracted, maybe it's best you not attend," Fitz shot at him, the annoyed tone jarring Michael out of his self-absorption.

"No, no. Don't get me wrong, friend. I'm in," Michael told him, trying to snap out of his own thoughts and questions.

"Good. You'll need to be on 100% tomorrow night, Callaghan. Someone at this game is going to know what's going on, and we'd better get something out of them. I don't want Tabbris on my bad side. It would bode poorly for us both."

"I understand, Fitz," Michael soothed his agitated friend.

Michael knew he had brought this on Fitz. If Michael had not come, Fitz would only be minimally involved. Tabbris surely would have come to the house to ask questions, but not as an angry, accusing father.

So now the two of them were headed to a poker game with the group Michael had been trying to avoid since he arrived in Sugar Hollow. They were useful creatures, some fancying themselves men of power, though they had no more than a minimal amount of influence. Still, they had a way of knowing things going on around the Hollow, and this game would give Fitz and Michael a chance to find out who this wanderer really was and what he came here to do.