Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Vampire Heiress
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-Ovid

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Vampire Heiress

There was to be no Lady Vera in the Palmetto City coven. Several days after Sophia Clandest's sudden disappearance, paperwork arose revealing the socialite-philanthropist's secret adoption of Vera Clandest - the first and thus far only child to be cured of NVC by the Clandest Initiative. She was immediately a hot commodity in the city's high society - rich, beautiful, and a wonderful successor to her poor, late adoptive mother. Or so everybody said - when you were rich, Vera noted, people tended to be a lot more generous in their estimation of you.

Nobody could quite explain Vera Clandest's relationship to a pair of blue collar workers, Vic and Ashley Vera, who lived in a quaint little neighborhood of mid-town row houses teetering precariously between gentrification and urban decay. Some said they were her closest living relatives, her aunt and uncle, perhaps. It wasn't unusual to see her chatting with her 'aunt' during the night shift at Ashley's Diner, and she always accompanied them to Wednesday night services at the Twin Boughs Methodist Church.

One Wednesday night, a few weeks after her sudden appearance in Palmetto city, Vera accompanied her 'aunt and uncle' to one such service. Pastor Mooney stood at the front of the congregation, one arm raised in righteous authority but all smiles… except for when he got into the fire and brimstone, as had always been the case. Though his fire and brimstone seemed to be a lot less about how modern society was in league with Satan than it had once been. Some of the congregation had noticed and opinions on it were mixed. Some of them liked it when Mooney told them who to hate, though most were glad for the change of pace.

"We don't confront our brethren, do we?" he asked. "No, we accost them with love and understanding. It isn't our job to condemn, but to shepherd, and the shepherd's attention must go to the lost sheep. Let's remember that parable from Luke 15, where Jesus said:

"Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.

"If your time is spent convincing yourself that your lost sheep was no good to begin with, that you're better off without the blasted thing, then you'll soon find yourself without a flock, my friends. One by one, they will wander away. Instead, we must meet the sheep where it is and, if we must, carry it home. I hope you'll keep that in mind as you go about the rest of your week and as you go about your lives. And I hope you'll pray with me now…"

Afterward, Pastor Mooney shook hands and made chitchat with the congregation out in the entryway. The front doors were open to the twilit evening and a pleasant breeze swayed the draperies - it was pleasant but carried a hint of humidity, perhaps warning of a coming storm. Vera accompanied her parents (or, officially, her aunt and uncle) out into the foyer and they shook hands with the pastor.

"Heck of a sermon, pastor," Vic Vera said affably. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"Just lovely," Ashley agreed.

"I'm glad you liked it. It was one of my older ones, but I think it updated pretty well," the pastor nodded. "Say, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Vera in my office… just for a moment."

Vic looked uncertain, but Vera nodded. "Of course, pastor." It had been her who'd arranged for the meeting, after all.

They took the flight of stairs to the upper corridor and to the pastor's office, where he locked the door behind them. Vera wondered what people would say. Would it be the pastor taking advantage of the beautiful young heiress, the heiress enamored of the 'silver fox' of a pastor, or would they assume it was just an innocent chat? No, the purpose of their meeting was quite different.

"You did well," Vera said. She took the pastor's wrist and nipped it right above his tattoo. They'd tattooed it in brown like a henna tattoo - the pattern that Maxie had helped her devise with the four elements and the goddess-tree at the center. Pastor Mooney kept the thing covered with concealer, but you could make it out if you were looking for the mark. She gave him enough of the crimson venom to keep him going and to strengthen her sway over him. "What did you think."

"I…" the pastor rubbed the already-clotted wound at his wrist. "I hated it… I hate this. This isn't me," he said. And, in those moments where he was allowed to be honest, there was something harrowed about his expression. It was a bit sad to see a broken man, even if he deserved to be. Nobody would ever find out, though: Vera forbade him to even hint at his true feelings whenever anybody else was around, even his wife. The pastor's heart was hateful, as far as Vera was concerned, and she didn't want him poisoning the congregation, as he'd been doing for years.

Vera shrugged. "Maybe not, my wayward sheep. My understanding is that, in time, my compulsions will set in and become as much a part of you as the hateful indoctrination that gave you these horrible ideas."

"Please… please don't change me," he said.

Vera ran her fingers through his beard. He'd had to bleach and artificially dye it to add the grey hairs back among the thicket of auburn. "I've already changed you. I'll change you more if I like. And it's my gift to you that I'll never make you enjoy it or fool you into thinking it's your free will you're acting with… if I dose you often enough, I can do that. I've let you keep your life and your job… isn't that kind of me?"

"Yes, Miss Clandest."

Vera nodded. "It's better than you deserve. I'll want you to send my father another email to give him food for thought… run it by me before you send it. And if there's nothing else, I'll see you next Wednesday, all right?"

"Of course." The pastor reached for his drawer. That was where he kept his bourbon.

Vera held up a finger. "In moderation. And, if you feel like you need pills, you're to contact me and I'll give you a nip of the yellow to stave it off."

"Yes, Miss Clandest, I remember that well enough."

"Good. Until next week, pastor."

+++++

The next day, Vera stopped by Imaging East to pick up her last paycheck. She didn't need the paycheck and could have filled out a form to have it direct-deposited, but she thought stopping by might give her some closure. She'd continued to work her shifts for a week and a half after the conflict that had her killing and cannibalizing (vampirophaging?) Sophia Clandest to become the head of the coven - she'd assured Dr. Parvolog that the conflict that had seen staff members and patients threatened, had damaged walls and windows with gunfire, and caused $60,000 in damage to the MRI suite, was over and the doctor had taken her at her word. Vera had tendered her two weeks notice like a normal, responsible person and closed out her time on as good of a note as she could manage.

Maybe Dr. Parvolog didn't trust Vera to stop in to say goodbye, because the doctor was waiting out in the lobby when Vera arrived, the envelope with the paycheck on her lap, her brow knit in worry. Vera barely made any noise when she walked (unless she was being loud on purpose, which she usually wasn’t), so she cleared her throat to avoid startling the doctor. Dr. Parvolog stood, smiling uncertainly.

"Your last paycheck," she said, handing over the envelope.

"Thanks," Vera said. "I'm going to donate it to the Clandest Initiative."

"Isn't that like… donating the money to yourself?"

"It all goes to research and medical care for kids with vascular diseases. I don't touch a penny of it." Vera stepped in for a hug and Parvolog managed to return the hug without too much awkwardness between them. "Can I still count on you for a recommendation?"

The doctor seemed taken aback. "You're… you're still planning on going to medical school?"

Vera nodded. "I'm taking classes for my bachelor's now… distance learning, of course… but I'm going to medical school next year."

"Why? Couldn't you just put a doctor on your payroll and call it well enough?"

Vera shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't want to be a wealthy heiress-vampire." She whispered the last word so the receptionist wouldn't hear - Dr. Parvolog already knew her secret. "I want to help people. People like me and kids with vascular diseases like I once had. Maybe it's vanity, but I want to be Dr. Clandest and not some distant philanthropist who tosses money as her heartstrings are tugged. Hell, vampires barely have heartstrings, so I figure I've got to be active about keeping myself on the straight and narrow."

"I guess that makes sense. It was nice knowing you, Vera."

"I'll be back. We've still got that neurovascular scanning study to run, after all. We'll be in touch." She kissed Dr. Parvolog on the cheek. It was a pretty standard gesture in the 'socialite' circle she'd been immersed in lately, but Parvolog was clearly taken aback and Vera felt a bit bad about it. Plus, she'd gotten a good whiff of the doctor's blood and a little voice in the back of her head was telling Vera to make her a familiar, which she absolutely was not going to do - unless the doctor asked about it. That was her rule: her only familiars from here on out would be folks who asked to be.

+++++

After dropping the check off with her assistant, Vera took the elevator up to the penthouse. It still didn't feel like her penthouse, but it felt a bit more so every day. Especially now that the Abaddon temple was almost fully deconstructed, leaving the bare bones of an unoccupied double-floor where the dark chapel had once been. Vera wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with the space, but it definitely wasn't going to be a temple to an evil demon who wanted to bring some aspect of his hellish dimension to Earth.

The vampires of the Palmetto City coven were of deeply ambivalent opinion regarding the strange turn of events. They weren't sure what to make of a youngblood becoming the Lady of the Coven. And some of them had built their identities around being demon-worshiping vampires. In fact, vampirism was a demonic blessing/curse and no coven in the history of vampires, so far as anybody could tell, had ever been able to divorce itself from those demonic origins. But the strange circumstances that Vera had found herself in had managed to do just that. All of the other vampires still had a blood pact that they'd made with the demon during their initiation into the coven but, without a powerful priestess at the coven's head, there was a hope that those obligations would fade in time, and there might even be witchy ways to speed up the process. The vampires who were into vampirism for the 'lifestyle' of being rich and influential immortals were pretty pleased to do away with the Abaddon nonsense, whereas the others were close to open revolt.

"I have no idea what to do," Vera said.

"Wait and see how they respond," Carmen said. She was one of the familiars she'd inherited from Sophia Clandest - she'd given all of them the option of leaving her service or remaining and about two-thirds had opted to stay. Carmen was a twenty-something beauty with glossy black hair and sparkling blue eyes to rival Lisa's. She'd make a fine vampire some day if they could find a way to  turn her without a fifty percent chance of killing the poor woman - it was a serious risk. Carmen had a devious sensuality to her and, among all of the familiars, was the only one comfortable with not calling Vera 'Miss Clandest' and deferentially scraping to authority in every situation. Clandest had kept her familiars on a tight leash, and Vera found Carmen's informal demeanor refreshing and appealing.

Vera beckoned the svelte familiar to bed - there was nothing serious between them, not yet, but when Vera was blood-sated (which she was was most of the time now), she had certain urges that just needed to be scratched. "How they respond? What do you mean?"

"Well… if they attempt to usurp you, then you'll have to kill them, obviously. If you banish them, they'll just conspire with the coven's enemies and come back. And if they fall in line, you'll have to give them enough rope to hang themselves and just hope they don't."

"I hate violence," Vera said.

Carmen slid beside her in bed, flesh hissing on the satin sheets, smooth skin against smooth skin, her lips brushing against Vera's before presenting her neck for a nibble. "Good. Don't use it until you have to… Lao Tzu said 'excellent warriors are not violent'… it's a last resort, but sometimes it's a good one. Ah!"

"Very wise," Vera agreed once she'd disengaged. She wiped a drop of blood from her lips. "Have you got any more wisdom for me?"

"Less talk more sex," Carmen said.

Vera giggled. "That wasn't Lao Tzu, I take it." She caressed Carmen's pert breasts, inhaled the scent of her flesh, and sighed as Carmen slid down, positioning her head between Vera's legs, her hair splayed out like a soft fan, her tongue doing wonderful things to Vera's sensitive bud, tracing out little swirling shapes. Vera's slim fingers crept down, threading through soft hair, moaning and gasping as her familiar took a turn at devouring her. She wondered what the others thought - hopefully, they thought Vera was using Carmen as a sex thrall and nothing more. But Vera got a thrill out of hearing Carmen thrash and moan, too… though sometimes, all too often, she imagined it was Lisa whom she was pleasuring. Sometimes, she cried out her name.

After an hour of heated passion, Carmen curled against Vera, sighing and running her fingers down her mistress's smooth and sweatless chest, along her taut abdomen, pale and contoured with sleek muscle. Vera relished in the feel. When she was well-sated with blood, sex was as good as it had ever been before her transformation. Better. And the touch of gentle fingertips along her skin sparkled delight up her spine.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Carmen asked.

"Shut up and cuddle with me," Vera said. "Unless you don't want to."

"I do," Carmen said, and they lay in silence for a long moment. Sunlight was just starting to stream through the windows, but they were all treated to block anything that might harm vampires. "I like making you happy, but I wish you'd stop calling me Lisa…"

"Sorry… that's a deep-seated instinct." And the part of her that still felt ached desperately for Lisa, wherever she was. She kissed Carmen's forehead. "I'll get it right eventually."

Soon enough, she drifted off into dreamless vampiric slumber, and when she awoke close to noon, Carmen was gone and somebody had just set fresh tea on the bed stand. Her blood-sated state had faded, but that could easily be fixed.

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