At long last, the story can be told. Something to do with the "Freedom
of Information Act". *glare* Here, for the first time ever, the sordid
and soggy truth about how the eminently respectable, gentlemanly Baron
Gideon Redoak came to be the bloodsire of such an unlikely fledgling as
the Mad Vampiric Giggler.
For what it's worth, the story you're about to read happens to be true.
Sort of.
The date is 9/6/94. It says so in the Giggler's .sig.
Warning: extreme inanity. Temper tantrums.
________________________________________________________
The Baron and the Giggler
copyright 1996 by A. Fraser and P. Droubie
______________________________________________________
It is hard to be a gentleman.
In these decadent times, manners and mores mean little anymore. The
world is going to Hades in a handcart, as far as good plain common sense
and a respect for your elders is concerned.
It is particularily difficult to remain a gentleman when you are a three
hundred and fifty four year old vampire who is, as they say, ticked off.
Baron Gideon Redoak was ticked off. Not that he would have put it that
way, of course. He would have said that he was disgruntled, or
unpleased. Never would such a vulgar phrase as "teed off" have passed his
thin aristocratic lips, or even flitted across the amazing organ that
was his brain. His young assistant, a mere street lycanthrope, would
likely have employed those words. In fact, Mitch _had_ used those
words, which was partly the reason why the Baron was out prowling the
streets of Minneapolis.
How it had transpired was thusly: The Baron was already disconsolate
over the prolonged absence of his lover and the only person who could
jolly him out of a bad mood, Joshua Trevallion. He had lost a major
business deal with the Japanese. The fact that the loss of this deal
would not mean instant poverty or even loss of face meant little to the
Baron. He had _lost_, and he was not accustomed to losing. He was on
the outs with the world, with the Brotherhood, the CotN, and his own
household. There was no sympathy, no matter where he turned.
"Look," Mitch had said, "Just because you're ticked off about this
business deal and Josh being gone, there's no reason to take it out on
me."
"Fine," the Baron had replied, lines of stubborness appearing around his
eyes. "I will go 'take it out' on someone else."
"Good!" Mitch had said. He did not know it, but he had come dangerously
close to provoking his employer to physical violence.
Instead, Gideon had turned smartly on his expensive heels and stormed
out of his office. He had summoned Evan with an imperious snap of his
fingers, flung himself into the limo, and sharply demanded, "Drive!"
Evan knew these moods of old. There were only two ways to bring the
Baron out of them, neither of which was currently an option. Joshua was
God knew where on his buying trip, and Genevieve was in France. The
Nameless One slipped silently behind the wheel and drove.
When they had reached Minneapolis, Gideon had demanded to be let out.
He lost himself amongst the crowds on the street, but being amongst so
many humans only served to make him hungry.
"Careless, careless," he reprimanded himself, and looked around for
something to distract him from his itching fangs and his bad mood.
He espied a movie marquee. He had not been to see a movie alone for a
long time. His knowledge of pop culture was nil, and usually Joshua or
Mitch picked out a movie and dragged him to it.
With interest, he read the name of the movie. 'Sounds harmless enough,'
he thought. 'Obviously, it's a documentary about the dangers of
industrial pollution and how it's damaging the envrionment.'
Had Evan still been with him, he could have warned Gideon. Or, perhaps,
knowing Evan's sense of humour, he wouldn't have. No matter. Gideon
had no one to tell him his guess about the movie's subject was dead
wrong, and he did not know enough about this form of entertainment to
pick up clues from the billboards.
Thus it was, firm in the conviction that he was about to be informed
about waste products and landfills, that Baron Gideon Redoak paid
admission to go and see "On Deadly Ground."
*********
"GET OUT AND STAY OUT!" the man shouted, blood dripping down his nose,
as he threw the Mad Giggler out into the street. Unfortunately for the
Mad Giggler, he landed right in the rose bush outside of the Red Lobster
staining his previously white t-shirt with more blood. Not that the
Giggler noticed, he was too busy trying to stop laughing at the manager
who was still glaring at him.
"I'm sorry sir," the Mad Giggler managed to get out between bursts of
laughter. "I didn't mean to start a food fight, in fact...ummm..." the
Giggler thought for a moment. "The food flew out of my hands and hit the
people next to me all by itself!" Putting on his most innocent look the
Giggler theorized, "In fact, I'll bet you have gremlins here! That's it,
GREMLINS!" As the manager, nose still bleeding, started to approach the
giggling madman, the Giggler added, "I'll even bet that's how that lobster
claw ended up clamped on your nose!"
The manager was so upset at this point that he just growled, picked up the
Mad Giggler and pushed him all the way out to the sidewalk. The Giggler
took the hint that he wasn't welcome, although he couldn't figure out why,
and started to walk away. Then a smile crossed his face, "Sir, if you need
any help getting rid of gremlins I'd be more than happy to assist you!"
At this point the manager started to look around for a rock to throw and
the Giggler headed out to find places more receptive to his presence.
As the Mad Giggler wandered the crowded streets of Minneapolis, he looked for
another place to have fun. Unfortunately, the circus wasn't in town and
the zoo had learned long ago that he should't be allowed inside. Then
he saw it, the worst movie ever made at a theater! It was "On Deadly
Ground" and he could spend the entire movie being the play-by-play
announcer! Starting to giggle already, the Mad Giggler bought a ticket
and headed into the theater. Inside, he looked around for the proper
person to sit next to, the right company made this kind of a movie worth
ruining. Spying a man sitting towards the back, looking very over dressed
the Giggler thought,'There is the perfect straight man to bless with my
presence.'
****************
Comments, questions, offers of strait-jackets can be sent to:
fraser@library.utoronto.ca, drou0002@gold.tc.umn.edu
Subj: Fiction: The Baron and the Giggler, part 2
Date: 96-03-07 10:57:46 EST
The Mad Giggler made his way to the aisle with the over dressed patron
and proceeded to sit next to the man. Of course, it wasn't quite that
simple...first the Giggler had to sit on the other side and in the process
of moving in front of the man...
"Excuse me," the Giggler said. "Can I get through here?"
The man glared at the inane fool before standing to let him past.
The Giggler smiled his most charming and mindless smile at the man and
proceeded to step on both his feet. "SOOOO sorry, sir!" the Giggler
apologized, trying not to laugh at the upset and irritated look he
received. All too soon the fun came to an end as the Giggler and the
man next to him sat down, so the Giggler decided decided to enact his
step in irritating his neighbor.
"Excuse me," he began again. "Can I get past?"
The man stood up again, glaring even more.
"I forgot popcorn and pop," the Giggler explained with an embarassed
smile. "A bad movie just isn't the same without projectiles in hand."
As the Giggler headed out of the room and into the lobby, he started to
giggle. 'This guy is going to be too much fun!' he thought to himself.
Soon, with pop and popcorn in hand, he returned to his aisle, only
to find the man had moved back a row. 'Oh, this is even better than I
expected,' the Giggler crowed (silently of course). "Excuse me," he
said again as he put his pop into the cup holder on the wrong side
of the man. Once again the man stood to let the madman past and once
again his toes got stepped on in the process. Just after the Giggler made
it to his seat, managing to spill a little popcorn on the man before
settling in, the movie started. Now came the next fun part!
Just as the Giggler's chosen straightman got into the previews, the
Giggler interrupted, "Excuse me." Glaring at the offending Giggler,
the man looked about ready to lose his composure. Assuming an absent
minded look the Giggler stated, "I seem to have forgotten my pop on the
other side of you. Silly me, I musta set it there before I crossed in front
of you!"
Gideon grit his teeth as the little fool reached over him for the soft
drink. What had he done to attract such an idiot to himself? He had
merely been sitting quietly, and realizing that he'd been completely
wrong about the movie to be shown. It was some sort of action/adven-
ture film, featuring an improbably-muscled actor who couldn't speak
English. Or any other language, apparently. Still, he was determined
to stick it out because then he could feel even sorrier for himself, and
besides, he'd paid. Now he seemed to be trapped with a lunatic.
Just as he'd silently predicted, the madman spilled cola all over
himself, Gideon, and the neighbouring seats. He then immediately
apologized and tried to wipe up the mess with an inadequate serviette.
The napkin had not been made for such vigourous treatment and left
little rolled-up bits of paper over Gideon's suit. What little was left
of the soda splashed out of the cup, and somehow more popcorn was
spilled, too.
The boy was a walking disaster! Not only that, but Gideon could read
his thoughts, since he was in such close proximity, and he was doing it
_intentionally_! He was insane, of course, and had no idea that his
chosen victim was a vampire. A very pissed-off vampire, who was
beginning to get hungry, at that.
"Stop it," the Baron hissed through his teeth as the lunatic stepped on
his feet again.
"Sorry, but I gotta go pee," said the madman, and giggled.
"Go, then," Gideon commanded. His mental powers would not work on
someone whose mind did not function in normal human channels.
Otherwise, he might have added the auto-suggestion that the young man
drown himself in the sink.
_______________________
The Mad Giggler stumbled his way to the bathroom, trying to control his
laughter. His sides shook and tears ran down his face, this guy was just too
straight for his own good. Such a perfect target for his pranks and inanity.
The Giggler walked into the bathroom, making sure to slam the door shut.
"Anyone in here?!" he asked. In response he heard a couple coughs from
the nearby graffitti covered stalls.
He turned the rust covered faucet on and cupped his hands under the water.
Soon the was a small pool in his hands and he threw it over the top of a
stall, much to the dismay of the occupant.
"What the fuck is going on?!" came the suprised shout.
"Sorry," apologized the Giggler. "I have bad aim."
Now for the next way to irritate that stuffy guy in the theater. The
Giggler chuckled as he thoroughly wet a paper towel then put it into
his pocket and skipped out of the bathroom.
Back in the theater, the Giggler managed to once gain step on the man's
toes on the way past him to his seat. Needing some time to gain the
compusure to keep a straight face, he started watching the movie just in
time to hear Steven Seagall say, "What does it take for a man to change?"
as he beat the shit out of a oil guy. Giggling, the Madman elbowed his
annointed straightman and whispered, "I can be ready to go in under 15
minutes, but women take longer to change." Ignoring the glare he received
in return, a skill the Mad Giggler possessed to an extreme, he started to
sniff. The man next to him looked away in distaste as the Giggler started
to sneeze, but just as the sneeze erupted the Giggler turned straight at
the man and let it fly all over his formerly impeccable suit.
Then he pulled what appeared to be a kleenex, but was actually the soaked
paper towel, out of his pocket and blew full force into it. Of course, he
lost his grip and the nasty 'kleenex' landed right in the lap of the man
next to the Giggler. Giggling nervously, the glares were beginning to
worry even the Giggler, he said in an innocent voice, "Want something to
eat?" as he held up his pop soaked popcorn.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," replied Gideon evenly. He was furious and
the blood-lust was rising. This little madman would make just the right
snack... "Why don't we go out to the candy counter together and get
something?"
The Giggler dropped the rest of his popcorn all over Gideon's ruined
suit. "You're a nice guy," he giggled. "Wanting to buy me a snack."
"One of us is going to have a snack," the Baron muttered. He was angry
and his suit was a mess. None of this improved the mood he'd already
been in. "Here, let me give you a hand, since you seem to be having
trouble walking."
Even the Giggler's twisted mind realized he was in trouble when fingers
like steel cables grabbed his arm in a come-along grip that he couldn't
shake loose. And were the guy's eyes _red_?
"You're hurting me," he whined. "I was only having a little fun."
"You chose the wrong person to have it with."
"I'm really sorry..."
"It is too late for that."
Gideon hauled his dinner right out of the theatre, and no one stopped
them or interfered. No one wanted to get involved, the Giggler wasn't
making enough of a fuss to draw legal attention, and most of the
audience secretly sympathized with the overdressed gentleman he'd made
his patsy. If the man in the suit wanted to beat the kid up in an
alley, no one was going to say no.
"I thought we were going to get a snack," The Giggler said, really
scared now. The guy's eyes were definitely red, and his teeth were
suddenly long and pointy.
"I said _I_ was going to," Gideon snarled, and bit.
____________________________________________________________
The Giggler wanted to shout out "OH SHIT" (mostly because he'd always
wanted to when he got in over his head), but he couldn't talk. He was
growing steadily weaker... weaker...
"My God, what have I done?" Gideon stood, horrified, over the crumpled
body. "I have not drunk that deeply in a century or more! If I've
killed the fool boy..." He quickly knelt and checked. "He still
breathes," he sighed in relief. "But not for much longer."
The Giggler's heartrate and breathing were slowing perceptably. There
was a little pain, but it was mostly hazy. He still felt a lingering
sense of euphoria.
The Baron stripped off his wet, be-popcorned suit jacket and yanked up
the sleeve of his equally ruined shirt. A quick bite of his fangs to
his wrist produced a stream of red vampiric blood. He held this to the
Giggler's lips.
"I hope you can understand me," he said. "Please, forgive me. I have
drained you to the death, when all you did to me was mere annoyance.
You caught me in a bad mood, and have paid dearly. You will pay with
your very life in a moment if you do not listen to what I say. Swallow
this blood, and you will be what I am--a vampire. Do you understand? I
offer you the only recompense at my command--the Dark Gift. If you do
not drink, you will die. If you do drink, you will be forced to live by
night, to hunt others for their blood, to be forever cursed. Do you
understand?"
The Giggler nodded weakly, more of a fluttering of the eyelids really.
Although he could barely even think, being a vampire sounded like a lot
of fun. It certainly had to beat being dead, not that he'd ever been
dead before either. Now that he thought about it, being dead might be
more fun anyways. Just as he was going to tell his straight man turned
vampire that death would be new, he realized that his body had already
chosen unlife. His mouth was clamped to the man's wrist as he drank
deeply.
Floating, falling, savour each sensation...*
The Giggler felt himself plunging into blackness as the blood went down
his throat. Funny, it didn't taste nearly as bad as he'd thought it
might... not really like Coke but something almost as good. This must
really be the Real Thing, he thought with a giggle.
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination...
Gideon pulled his wrist away as he felt himself growing a bit dizzy.
"Enough!" he exclaimed and saw the Giggler pout. "Don't worry, there
will be plenty more," he sighed.
"I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company,**" said the Giggler
just before he slipped into unconciousness.
"What the hell did _that_ mean?" Evan demanded.
The Baron shrugged. "I have no idea," he said, worriedly.
Silently the senses abandon their defenses...
Dark. Dark and cold. Dark and cold and lonely. And thirsty, so very
thirsty. Was there more of that yummy red stuff? That had been good...
"He's coming around," said Evan. "That was fast."
"Faster than it took me," said the Baron wryly. "But I think I sped up
the process a bit for him."
The night was neon. PaineuphoriacoloursbrightlightspainpleasureTHIRST
wow, this was better than being dead...
Gideon knelt down and held his new fledgling. "Can you hear me?" he
asked. "How do you feel?"
"With my fingers," the Giggler replied.
"Well, that answers something I've always wondered," Evan mused. "I
know the change cures physical ailments, but obviously it doesn't do a
thing for mental health."
"You're _not_ helping," Gideon said. "My childe, you are now a vampire.
Tell me how you feel?"
The Giggler grinned and started to thrash around in what might be called
dancing, "I feel good...like I knew that I would now!" Then he peered
up at his new friend and asked, "I'm thirsty, when do we belly up to
the bar? And how'd it get so damn bright out all of a sudden? Why do
I have pointy teeth? Who the hell are you anyways? Who's that other
fella with you? Did he imply that I'm not of sound mental health? If
so I don't think I like him!" At that last statement, the Giggler crossed
his arm and started to pout.
"I am Baron Gideon Redoak," said he, very patiently. His bad temper had
drained away, replaced by concern for his new fledgling. It really was
like having a child--one who was obviously unstable, mind you... "I am
a vampire, and your bloodmaster. This is Evan Jones, my protector. He
didn't mean to hurt your feelings. He likes you, really he does, and so
do I. What you are feeling is the change--you are now a vampire.
That's why you have pointy teeth and you're thirsty. You'll have to
drink blood from now on."
Evan handed his employer a bottle of the private stock, and Gideon
passed this to the Giggler. "Now, what's your name?" he asked.
"Drink this, it's what you need. I'll have to teach you how to hunt--oh,
lord, how do I do _that_?" he asked in aside to Evan.
"How would _I_ know, I'm not a vampire," Evan sotto-voced back.
"What is your name, childe?" Gideon asked again.
__________________________________________
* _Music of the Night_, from _Phantom of the Opera_, lyrics by Andrew
Lloyd Webber, as if you didn't know. Reprinted without permission.
**Probably copyright by the Coca Cola Company, who are only slightly
less possessive than Disney. Don't tell them, okay?
Subj: Fiction: The Baron and the Giggler, part 6
Date: 96-03-10 22:15:18 EST
From: fraser@vax.library.utoronto.ca
Sender: nightstalkers-approval@world.std.com
To: nightstalkers@europe.std.com, janette@access.digex.net, mfarrell@fac.cabot.nf.ca,
crfkingpa@crf.cuis.edu
Warning: Elephants doing something dirty.
____________________
The Baron and the Giggler
copyright 1996 by A. Fraser & P. Droubie
***************
The Mad Giggler looked up at the self-proclaimed vampire Baron, "Why I'm
the Mad Giggler, as if that isn't obvious." As the Baron and Evan shared
an exasperated look, the Giggler started to pout, "You mean you haven't
heard of me?!"
"Don't you have a 'real' name?" the Baron asked patiently, as if he was
talking to a mad man.
The Giggler glared at this stuffy Baron, "What's wrong with the Mad Giggler?
It's a 'real' name!" Then his face lit up, "I understand, you mean that
it's no longer appropriate for me." Before the Baron could correct his
fledgling's misconception, the Giggler barreled on, "You're right you know,
from now on I shall be named 'The Mad Vampyric Giggler'!!!" As the
Baron and Evan groaned in despair, the Giggler looked around in
confusion, "I thought there were supposed to be lights and whistles when
a momentus event was proclaimed."
Convinced the Universe had conspired to rip him off he asked this Baron
character, "So do I have all those cool vampire powers from the movies?"
"Yes, mostly," Gideon confirmed. "Perhaps we should talk in the car,
it's less conspicuous."
"I'm not supposed to get into cars with strangers," said the Giggler.
"I'm not a stranger, I'm your sire."
"My what?" The Giggler's brow furrowed. "That's like a father, right?"
"Remotely," agreed the Baron dryly.
"Daddy!" The Giggler clasped the Baron's knees. "Can we go for a car
ride?"
Gideon looked at Evan, who found something very interesting about the
night sky over Minneapolis. Together they got the Giggler settled into
the back seat of the Caddy.
"Now," Gideon sighed as the limo purred away from the disasterous
theatre, "try to listen to me, childe. You are now a vampire. You have
to drink blood. The best way to do this is to bite humans--yes, just
like in the movies. But you must _not_ kill them. Only take enough to
satisfy your hunger. You have mind control powers. You can make people
forget things, or make it so that they don't see you. You must stay out
of the sun. Do you have a safe place you can stay during daylight
hours?"
The Giggler gave his newly made turnsire a withering look, "Of course,
I have a place to stay. What do I look like, some raving lunatic who was
kicked out of an insane asylum and am now homeless?!"
"Don't answer that," Evan advised.
"Thank you," Gideon snarled back at him.
The Giggler pouted.
"I will be willing to help you, as much as I can," Gideon went on.
"Call me if you get into trouble, or need my help. Would you like me to
show you how to hunt?"
"Sure, that would be grand!" The newly named Mad Vampyric Giggler exclaimed.
"My very own Daddy showing me how to hunt. When do we start? Where do
we start? I'd suggest the circus, clowns seem like they'd be fun to
hunt...all those bells, whistles and horns."
There was something that sounded suspiciously like a quickly-muffled
laugh from the driver's seat.
"Perhaps not the circus," Gideon said. "You need to be quiet and
unnoticed, my fledlgling. Hunt stealthily, don't draw attention to
yourself. If possible."
"Being a vampire doesn't sound like much fun," The Mad Vampiric Giggler
complained.
"You know, Gideon," Evan said, without turning his head, "far be it from
me to interfere, but I've been around a lot of vampires and they all
have different hunting methods. What's worked for you may not work for
your fledgling. People _are_ going to notice him, no matter what he
does, but maybe he can work that to his advantage. Who would suspect
him of being a vampire?"
"You have a point," Gideon conceded, while the Giggler sat up, excited.
"Then we can go to the circus?" he asked.
"Where would we find one tonight?" Gideon asked.
Evan did something with a mysterious part of the control panel of the
Caddy. The Vampiric Giggler was watching him.
"Is this KITT?" he asked. "Are you the Knight Rider?"
"Not quite," Evan grinned, "but close. That was a Pontiac, this is a
Cadillac. If that was a knight, this is the king."
"Cool. I do like you, after all."
"Thanks. You might not when I tell you that there aren't any circuses
on right now, though."
The pout hovered for a moment, then the Giggler bounced up and down. "I
know, how about the zoo?"
Evan checked the time. "Well, if we went to San Diego, we might be able
to catch the last stray visitors coming out..."
"Whatever," Gideon sighed. "Do it."
The car accelerated. St r e t c h e d. The sigil of the
particle and the wave flickered briefly on the computer screen.
And they were in San Diego. Courtesy of the Imaginos Freeway (tm, used
by permission of its owner).
There were a few people left in the early California night, and the
occupants of the car mingled with them. Gideon had somehow managed to
change his clothes--how is best not described. He and Evan kept a close
eye on the Giggler. They had to buy him a balloon. Finally they got
him to concentrate on the hunt instead of the animals.
There was a healthy young lady sitting by herself on a bench near the
elephants, watching them spray dirt on each other. The Giggler sat down
next to her and bopped his balloon for awhile. The woman eyed him
warily, but decided he was harmless.
"I like the elephants best," he told her. "Especially when they do
something dirty."
"That's disgusting," she replied, moving away slightly.
"Why? They're doing something dirty right now, and you're watching."
"Oh, that's what you meant." She relaxed and actually looked at him.
"Are you here alone?"
"No, I got my Daddy and his nice driver right nearby, they're teaching
me how to hunt."
"In a zoo? What are you hunting?"
"Necks. Give me your blood, tee hee."
She fell under his mind control powers and he managed to find the right
spot on her neck and take enough blood to satsify his new thirst but not
kill her. He was very proud of himself.
"Look, Daddy!" he exclaimed when the Baron and Evan emerged from their
hiding spot nearby. "I did just what you told me to do."
"Good," Gideon said. "Well, I think we'd better take you home now."
"Another car ride!"
The limo pulled up in front of the Giggler's home, an interesting
purple colored house, and Evan opened the door for him. Gideon
gave him a business card. "Call me if you need me," he said. "If
you ever _really_ need me, as in an emergency, just scream mentally,
I'll hear you. You and I are bloodlinked, for better and for worse,
we can sense each other if we're in danger or nearby. Be careful.
You are my fledgling, so perhaps some others will come to seek you
out. There's a group of vampires called the Children of the
Night, you are now one of them. You will find them fairly easily, just
keep your eyes and ears open. Remember to call if you need me."
"Okay. Bye, Daddy!" The Mad Giggler hugged him. "I'm sorry I got your
suit dirty." He got out of the car, then stuck his head back in. "Hey,
I didn't ask, do I have a Mommy, too?"
"No," said Gideon firmly. "I am not married. I live with a male
lover."
"That's okay," said the Giggler, waved to Evan, and vanished inside his
bright purple abode.
"Drive home," Gidoen commanded, leaning back in his seat. As Evan
complied, prudently silent, he added, "And remind me to never go to
another movie."
While Gideon pondered the consequences of his actions in the limo outside,
the Giggler was reveling in his new powers. His Mighty Morphing Power
Rangers poster was now visible even without turning on his bedroom lights.
Giggling wildly he wondered when would be the proper time to mentally prank
call his turnsire with a fake emergency, fake emergency calls were such fun.
These new powers were going to be fun, as was a strait-laced turnsire as
a target for pranks and jokes, although he wondered if these "Children
of the Night" were all like that or if some of them might be more fun.
As the Giggler laid down to listen to some Dio he wondered if any of his
friends would believe he was a vampire. Probably not, they'd just think
it was some new delusion of his. 'Maybe if I bit them a bunch of times
they'd believe,' he thought. 'And these red glowing eyes have some
definite potential for fun.'
"Michael, I need to talk to you."
The Archdruid looked up with interest at Gideon. The Baron was standing
in front of the library desk, his head bent, his shoulders hunched, his
hands folded quietly--his whole posture one of abject guilt.
"Of course, Gideon," Michael said, wondering what on earth was wrong,
"Won't you sit down? Can I get you a drink?"
"No, thank you." Gideon's eyes didn't stray from his folded hands.
"Well, for pity's sake, at least stop looking as if you expected to be
beaten! Tell me what's troubling you."
At last the vampire looked up. Blood tears shimmered in his dark eyes.
"I deserve to be," he said miserably. "I deserve to be driven out of the
Brotherhood; given the true death; whatever punishment you decree."
Michael's jaw dropped open and his mind raced. What had Gideon _done_?
He knew the Baron's troubled past--an abusive father, an even more
abusive bloodmaster, sadistic torture, rape--and knew that this had led
to a victim mentality. Gideon felt guilty over things he shouldn't, and
expected to be severely punished. The punishment might even alleviate
the guilt, but nine times out of ten there was no _need_ for the guilt
to begin with.
And the tenth time?
Instinct told Michael this was it. Whatever "it" was probably did not
merit the true death. There had been no news reports of blood-drained
corpses littering the countryside.
"Gideon," Michael said gently, "whatever it is can't have been all that
bad. Please, sit down and tell me what happened. And no
self-recriminations."
The Baron sat in the nearest chair, rigid as a board, as if he had a
poker inserted in an uncomfortable place. Michael sighed and wished
that he was more qualified to deal with such a troubled mind.
"Funny how they never tell you about these things in Druid school," the
ancient one thought. "Talk to me, Gideon," he requested outloud.
"Michael, I've broken one of the unwritten laws of the Brotherhood,"
Gideon said. "I've made a fledgling."
A million different responses occured to Michael. He settled for
leaning back in his chair, raising his eyebrows, and saying, "Is that
all?"
"Is that _all_?" Gideon stared at him.
"Tell me how it happened."
Gideon told him--about being in a snit and going to see a movie to snap
out of it, about the poor choice of film, about the many petty
annoyances that the insane young man had heaped upon him, how his mood
had darkened and his hunger risen until he had attacked the Giggler,
then realzed what he'd done and offered the Dark Gift.
Michael steepled his fingers. "Let me see if if I have this right," he
said. "You were in a bad mood. So you went to see a movie, and a crazy
person annoyed you. You bit him. When you drank too much because you
were upset, you did the only thing you could short of killing him--which
is to turn him."
"That's right," Gideon nodded msierably. "I have committed a serious
crime."
"What, precisely? Losing your temper? Making a mistake?
Congratulations, Baron Redoak, you're human."
"But..."
"But _nothing. You have done everything in your power to make amends,
you have taught your fledgling what he needs to know, and you will keep
an eye on him and ensure that he doesn't get into serious trouble. You
ahve not tried to shirk your responsibility, abandon him or abuse him.
That he is mentally usntable is scarcely your fault. Yes, it was wrong
of you to attack him just because he made you mad--but you can't take
back what you did. All you can do is make the best of it--which you
did--and get on with your life."
"But the rules..."
"Gideon, you've been a vampire _how_ long? Since 1641? And you've made
precisely _one_ fledgling in that time? I think we can forgive you this
lapse."
"Forgive me?" Gideon looked like he didn't understand the concept.
"Yes, forgive. After all, we forgave Alex, and his was a much more
serious transgression than yours. You _are_ sorry, aren't you?"
Michael looked at him pointedly.
"Yes, of course I am!"
"Then you are forgiven. Ego te absolve. Go forth and sin no more, my
son."
Michael stood up so that Gideon, drilled in manners as he was, had to
stand up, too. The Archdruid came around from behind his desk and
gently steered the vampire towards the door.
"Now, go home," he said to the Baron. "Be sure to tell Joshua about
this, when he gets home. Don't try to hide it from him. Tell the CotN
that there's a new vampire out there who needs looking after. You will
see that none of them will be mad at you. A few may be seriously
astonished, though." Michael chuckled. "There are quite a few people
out there who think you don't _have_ any emotions. If I had known you
were in such a bad mood to begin with, I'd have done something about it
then. However, what's done is done. Go home, Gideon."
"But..."
"No more 'buts'. If I find you brooding about this, then I _will_ be
angry. Brooders need something to occupy their minds, and I have a lot
of wood I need chopped. Unless you want me to hand you an axe, my dear
Baron, go home!" Michael pointed towards the door. "Shoo!"
Gideon shooed. Having created a fledgling was quite bad enough.
Chopping wood would have been adding insult to injury.
Well, Joshua had always wanted a son...
________
Th' End...