Being a creature of the night meant I would be less active during the day. Stepping out into the sun was a huge detriment to my continued existence. Luckily, I wasn't a Vampyre, so I took solace in the fact that I wouldn't combust instantly. I'd also boarded up all of the windows in my room so I wouldn't wake up and accidentally begin to burn.
Francis woke up before me, as evidenced by the opaque blanket wrapped over my body. If it weren't for spending time together last night, I would've greeted her this morning before sunrise. I always liked that paradigms could tell when it was morning. It was as if we had a clock running through our heads all the time. I did take solace in the fact that the other residents of Dogland would be out and about. I knew Iggy usually went to work in construction as early as he could. Francis would often make everyone breakfast and tend to Dogland for Mr. Martinez. Plus, since Becca was here, Franny would get done in time to sit with me for a while.
As for me, I'd be in this bed, curled up, trying to put myself back to sleep. I never knew what it was, but I could never fall asleep for most of the day. I'd wake up at least three times a day. I would keep a chamber pot if the urge to piss came about. The best part about sleeping in Dogland was that I didn't have to keep a hand on Wanda most of the time. Crime in the city was lower with a locked door and us being in a more secluded part of town. Besides, I let Mr. Martinez keep Bethany near him in case he's gotta chase someone out. Not a lot of people are big fans of trench sweepers.
The worst part about the day was that Francis wasn't here. I knew she had to pull her weight at the boarding house. Anyone who stayed long-term had to. Whenever I'd get paid from my "work," I'd usually have Jules clean my money for me, so whenever I needed to pay rent, I didn't give Mr. Martinez anything dirty. But Francis usually got stuck with taking care of the place. When I couldn't sleep, I'd listen out for her. Listening to her hum some swing tune, she picked up from Mr. Martinez as she washed dishes. Sometimes, she'd even practice magic, animating the brooms in the house to sweep the floors themselves.
Francis and Becca are talking about finding a stray cat outside. Francis is telling Becca that they can't keep it since we don't have a way of feeding it so much. Francis always had an air of responsibility around her, like she'd been our house's mother. The most admirable part was that she was never asked to do what she did. The most Mr. Martinez expects from her is to cook and clean. Knowing how amazing she is made me fear the day Father would ask me to be his son. To forsake the little life we had here.
Instead of letting those thoughts cloud my mind, I focused on her until sleep came to claim me. By the time I would wake up, Francis had come into the room. Lifting the covers off my head, she sat on the bed beside me.
"Rise in shadow, young bat," she said, "Your sister is getting ready." Rolling to my back, I saw Francis looking at me warmly. She'd been carrying in her hands a small coffee cup. Taking a whiff of what it had inside, I could feel my stomach growl as the scent of Francis's blood filled my nostrils. But that wasn't all that was there. I could smell traces of someone else's blood.
"Becca gave you some of her blood?" I asked as I stopped myself from reaching for the cup. Francis nodded and then put the cup in my hands.
"Becca and Penny were fine with it. You need your strength." I was hesitant to drink. Although the smell of Francis's blood made drinking enticing, having some Becca was a little strange. I didn't want to end up liking it enough to want more. I wasn't a blood psycho, I knew that, but the urge to feed was a little stronger than what was considered normal. Putting the cup to my lips, I downed every last drop. While it was sweet from Francis's blood, there was a tinge of spiciness. One that I wasn't prepared for at first. I could manage not to spit the blood back out, but I held my breath as I drank the rest of it.
"You ok?" She asked as she reached for the cup. Letting her take it, I wiped my mouth with my shirt. "I'm fine... I wasn't expecting that."
"Alexander Murcielago!" Francis gasped, covering her mouth in horror. "Why haven't you changed out of that bloody shirt."
I nearly hit the wall from how startled I was. Then I looked down, noting the blood all over my shirt. I'd forgotten to change yesterday, and my jacket came undone in my sleep.
Francis began muttering something in French, I couldn't pick out the words, but I knew she was probably complaining that I was a silly man who couldn't find a quarter on a barren floor. She exited the bed and headed to the closet, fiddling through the small space before finding another shirt. She threw it at me, with some pants and a pair of trousers.
"You know the drill," she said as she held her hand out. Without argument, because I knew it didn't matter, I took Wanda out of my jacket pocket and any extra strips I had, then took off the jacket and handed it to her. She took it, almost snatching it away from me, before holding out her hand again. "Shirt too."
Slipping the fabric off, I tossed it over to her. She then hurried out of the room, muttering some more in French. I took this as a sign to clean myself up. Heading to the latrine, I turned on the faucet in the bath. A thought occurs to me, and I end up chuckling. Many humans first believed that paradigms were like that Dracula fellow and feared running water. When it was just stories some guy made up. Maybe not of Dracula, Vlad the Impaler was an actual guy, but he was an absolute nutcase. Sometimes, I wondered who were the real monsters, the actual bloodsucking zombies that could sink a boat by themselves or the humans who kill more of their own than any other race ever.
I usually prefer the water to be cold, mainly because getting the water hot takes too long. Besides, I was too tired to be in a warm bath. The feeling would probably put me right back to sleep. After washing up and getting out, I returned to my room, finding Francis waiting for me. She had my mother's jacket in her hand, setting my clothes out for me to put back on. When our eyes met, I could see a tinge of red filling her cheeks. I closed the door behind me, ensuring no one could accidentally enter.
"Come now, Franny," I said as I slowly approached the bed. "You were practically naked last night. Just because you're dressed like a newsboy now doesn't mean you won't get any payback." Picking up the pants, I managed to slip them on without taking off the towel completely. Then, I dropped the towel entirely to put on my trousers. Francis covered her eyes as the towel came off, but she ended up leaving a small gap between her middle and ring fingers. When I put my trousers on, she uncovered them.
"It was because Becca suggested it," she huffed. "Men like that sort of thing." It was adorable she still went along with it. It made me hate that I didn't use it last night to my advantage.
After completely getting dressed, I slid Wanda back into my jacket pocket. Then, I gave Francis a peck on the forehead. "If you'd like, I could humor you when I return."
"Don't push your luck, lover boy," Francis giggled, straightening my jacket collar. "You've still got a date to take me on."
"Darn, foiled by myself this time," I playfully said. Francis pulled me down by my collar, kissing me deeply. For a moment, I almost got sucked into her embrace until there was a knock on the door.
"Alex," Penny called from beyond the door. "You know Father dislikes tardiness. Get your butt in gear."
"Damn... just when we were having fun." We let each other go, and I began to head for the door. Turning back, I smiled and waved.
"See you when you get back," Francis said as she waved back. "Je t'aime, sois prudent."
"Je t'aime aussi," I said back, See you later." After leaving the room, I made sure to have my key. I could hear the door's lock click as Penny, and I reached the end of the hall.
"You know, little brother, you have quite the amazing woman," Penny said, nudging me on the shoulder. "I'm sure he'd get jealous if Julian ever met her."
"That wouldn't be a bad idea," I said, considering it. Then I began to think of what Father or Mother would do, and suddenly the idea seemed too far-fetched. "How's Becca?" I asked.
"Becca is fine," Penny answered, "I made sure to give her a good scolding. We shouldn't have any more problems like that."
We said our goodbyes for the night to Iggy and Mr. Martinez, then got in the Duessy and headed for the estate. From where we were, it would take roughly twenty minutes to return. Luckily Dogland was in the territory between the Rotterdam family and the Isoarashi-gumi. Father established relations with both families when he arrived in America almost twenty years ago. So at least I didn't have to deal with any greenhorns wanting to crack some skulls because they felt like it. Thanks to the Barkley job going so well, we'd be safer.
The Murcielago estate was located in the northern residential district, barely inside the Rotterdam family's territory. Many homes on this side belonged to politicians, actors, and the occasional investment banker. The Estate sat on the farthest edge of the district on top of a hill, almost looming over the other houses. There were bigger houses, but the estate looked the most exotic. Red bricks lined the outer walls, with the house standing three stories high. In the front of the house, a tower built into the building could be seen as the first notable thing. It made the place look like a miniature castle. As we drove up through the long driveway, I noticed somebody had other cars parked in front of the house. Dad must've had visitors over.
Penny parked the Duessy behind the last car, and we got out. As we headed up to the front door, it opened with a large group of men in black suits coming out. They were Americans, some with blond hair and some with black, but all wore blue three-piece suits. In the middle of the group was a tall woman. She also wore a suit, but it was black, with a long skirt of the same color. She had a long brown jacket that hung over her shoulders like a cape. As the group walked by us, I could feel a weird tightening in my chest, but not in any way suggesting feelings of love or embarrassment.
She must've been essential if all of these guys were escorting her. I knew that, in my mind, I thought I shouldn't look her way. I should just let her walk on by. That was before I noticed I had stopped and had already turned around. It was like a base instinct, something I couldn't control. When I entirely became aware of what I'd done, I'd realized she turned around too.
Her bodyguards stopped a bit after she did, then turned to me. The one closest to me, a blond man, approaches me, grabbing me by the collar. "What are you looking at, punk?" He asked, his voice hoarse with annoyance.
"N-Nothing," I said, but I didn't think that could convince him. "Sorry, I just thought I knew that lady from somewhere."
"That lady... Is Queen Jeanne," the bodyguard nearly growled as he began lifting by my collar. "You'd better show some respect."
Queen Jeanne? Like the head of the Rotterdam family Queen Jeanne? I'm glad I kept those questions in my head. Looking ignorant before someone important could've meant the death of me.
"Mark..." said Queen Jeanne as she stepped forward. "Release the boy." The guard, Mark, drops me like a sack of potatoes. I'd have fallen on my ass if I hadn't been more alert. The Queen approaches me, her gaze keeping me paralyzed like a statue. She doesn't smile but doesn't seem annoyed or slighted. The way her emerald eyes darted around made it seem like she'd been attempting to stare straight into my soul.
"You certainly have his hair," Queen Jeanne said. She reached for my face examining every single feature it had. "You must be the youngest son."
"Y-Yes, ma'am... I mean, your majesty, I mean..." I couldn't stop fumbling over my words. The tightness in my chest began to turn into pain now. Letting go of me, the Queen rested a hand on her rather large chest as if something had bothered her.
"You must be the one who aided me with my rodent problem," she surmised. "You're not quite who I thought you'd be." I knew she wasn't trying to insult me, but it was hard not to want to take offense to that. I couldn't ask the most influential person in Iscariot City to say sorry or take what she said back.
"What is your name, boy?" The queen asked, her eyes narrowing, but I couldn't feel hatred.
"Alexander... Alexander Murcielago." I sensed something was wrong with how she asked for my name. The first clue was that her guards backed away when she asked. Usually, when you protect someone, you can't just step away from them. The second was their relief when I answered.
"Very well," the Queen said, seeming satisfied with my answer. She reached into her purse and took out a stack of money and a medal. She handed both to me and smiled. "I'd like to reward you before I take my leave personally. Spend the money how you like. As for the medal, keep it with you always. You'll know when you need it."
I wanted to ask why she'd like to give me these things personally. But before the words could form in my throat, her guards surrounded her, and she took her leave. The tightness in my chest faded, almost as if the Queen had taken it with her as she left. I slid the money into my jacket pocket but examined the medal for a few more moments. It was shaped like a coin, with one side having a woman's head and the other a jar.
"Whoa," Penny gasped, "You just talked to the Queen." The realization of this meeting now dawned on me. Father hadn't told anyone about me yet. I was just a soldier for now. I'd gone and given my identity away like a fool.
"Shit... Dad is probably going to kill me..."