Come With Me Now- The Second Interlude
Felipe DeCastro had been made in Andalusia in 1541. He had been a stableman for a wealthy landowner and horse breeder on the western edge of the peninsula. On a good day he cared for the master’s horses. On a bad day he also cared for his master’s needs. In his twenty three years as human he had learned that there was nothing the rich and privileged were denied. When he needed to escape his sometimes unbearable existence he would promise himself that one day too he would have everything he wanted, and no one and nothing would ever deny him.
He had already paid his dues. The world owed him now.
When Isabella Constantine came to look at horses one evening, she had found herself taken with handsome young stableman. When she returned the next night and made him a night walker, he had felt vindicated in his belief that the world would now be his. He had traveled with his maker through the courts of Europe and they had been an endless fountain to slake his thirst and indulge his most perverse desires.
When Isabella had released him, he had decided to seek his fortunes in the new world. He ingratiated himself to The Authority and convinced them that he was monarch material. He had demonstrated a penchant for financial matters and when the reveal had taken place they made him the King of Nevada, and in charge of the unending wealth that flowed from Las Vegas. He was in heaven.
Here there was no itch that he could not scratch and the money and the blood ran in rivers through the streets and back alleys. He owned the mayor, the police chief and controlled most of the money that came in and went out of the city. He ran drugs, prostitutes and guns with the same icy hands that held the pulse of vampire politics throughout the New World. His legendary poker face was as infamous as his talent for oral gratification, and he always seemed to know when he needed to hold back and when he needed to go all in with an accuracy that astounded his vampiric peers.
When Victor Madden presented himself to DeCastro, Felipe had taken one look at him and then locked him away for three months, chained in silver to teach him where the power was in the Sin City. Victor had been blood starved and delusional when Felipe went to him late in the night. He fed him sips of his blood and then pleasured him for hours before leaving him again. Night after night for another three months he gave him sips of his blood, supplemented with TruBlood and fucked him until Victor could think of nothing but all the ways he could please his new master. When he was released at the end of that six months Felipe owned him body and soul. He craved not only Felipe’s blood, but his touch and his approval like Pavlov’s well trained hounds.
Felipe had made a lap dog for eternity.
A lap dog that he then ran by alternately withholding his affection, his attention and his approval in ways that were cruel and insidious enough to strip the vampire’s undead soul and leave it in tatters. Felipe only loved him when he was cruel, and thus he continued to sharpen his weapon. He taught Victor all the hidden doors that took him to the peaks of pleasure and then after Victor had taken him to the highest heights he had known since his time with Isabella he would chain and whip him with a silver cat o’ nine tails, laying his skin in rows on his back and legs telling him everything he had done to displease his master. When he had bled him to the point that he could no longer heal from the whips lashes he would give him more of his blood to tighten the noose and then show him by example how he liked to be pleasured. In Victor’s mind pleasure and pain became one thing, and when he rolled that into the cruelties that he enacted to please Felipe he became a truly vicious creature to behold.
Felipe would admire him endlessly, his poker face intact, while he verbally tallied the ways that Victor needed to improve. He was completely dependent on Felipe within a year of his arrival in Las Vegas. There was nothing he would not do to please his monarch.
Seeing the way the political winds were blowing after the incident with Russell Edgington, Felipe, with The Authority’s, approval had begun to make inroads to human politics. When Hep-V infected vampires started roaming the countryside eating entire rural towns, Felipe had already been part of the specially appointed human vampire committee for over six months. He told them he was there be a liaison, a vampire law provider if you will that would serve as part of the joint task force to oversee vampire policing in the US. There had been some tight moments, the first being when the high ranking military official had disappeared in The Authority, presumably murdered, but never proven. Felipe had done his finest tap dancing to assure the human political machine that if indeed that was what had happened he would personally round up the vampire that had perpetrated this heinous act.
He still had connections in The Authority at the time and had known from the beginning that it was Northman who had ended the man’s life. It was a piece of information he held on to until he could figure out how to make that work for him. Things had taken another turn with Compton had published that ass wipe of a book And God Bled, who did this Confederate asshole think he was? Still, it had served as an opiate for the masses outside the Industrial War Machine, and the humans has gone back over identifying with the plight of the long suffering oppressed race of night walkers.
Personally, he and thought it was a fucking joke, but any artery in a storm, he supposed.
He had been keeping his intel close to the vest and his distance from the Northman as he watched his rise from the ignominious swamps of backwater Louisiana to the New York Stock Exchange as he hawked Nu Blood on late night television and garnered, if rumor were true, a hundred thousand a suck on the magical mystical source that was that cunt Sarah Newlin.
He wanted that money. He wanted that power. He wanted that fame, and he always, always got what he wanted.
While he pretended to help the committee for vampire policing and control he hatched his own plot to take everything the Northman had, everything he held dear. His effrontery and his success were offensive to the vampire King of Nevada, and he made it his own personal to do list to take that fucker down several pegs.
He made Victor sift through hours of footage captured in that concentration camp they had set up in Louisiana and one night Victor had come to him with the perfect information. It turned out Northman had a fairy. After breaking most of the possessions in his room venting his frustration at the Northman’s unbelievable gall and downright fucking luck he realized that this could be the thing he had been looking for.
Northman’s progeny indicated in her taped sessions that her maker had turned her out on account of his relationship with the unnamed fairy girl. Magical fairy flavored vagina, indeed. Immediately, he had dispatched Victor to Louisiana to find out who this ethereal creature was and to capture her if possible. When Victor returned with nothing but the name Stackhouse he had chained him in silver for two weeks. Then he had started plotting again.
He needed resources to continue the hunt that would not upset his delicate task force position. That fucking General Clinton was up his ass like a human proctologist and he had to be careful about how he did things. A long successful life in vampire and now human politics had taught him that when you can’t do something for yourself, it was often beneficial to have someone else do it for you. Someone who could not be traced back to you. Someone who thought they had just as much of not more to gain than you did.
Northman and his success with Nu Blood must have made some other enemies and he knew just which rock to kick over first. Motioning for Victor to bring him his phone and then forcing him to his knees as he undid his pants he sat down for two of his favorite things, vengeance and oral pleasure.
“Konnichiwa,” he said pleasantly as Victor’s head bobbed in his lap. He was so in control you would never have known he was getting the blow job of his life while he planned Eric Northman’s demise in perfectly accented Japanese.