Chapter 18 : THE VAMPIRE QUEEN — PART 1
St. Michael's Church rose against the stars like a broken prayer.
The building had been beautiful once. Gothic revival architecture—pointed arches, stone buttresses, a bell tower that no longer held a bell. Now it slumped into decay, windows dark, walls stained by decades of neglect. The parking lot had surrendered to weeds. The sign announcing service times had faded to illegibility.
Jenny and I approached from the east, having parked Ruth's truck a mile out. The night was cool, quiet except for insects and the distant hum of Highway 12.
[LOCATION SCAN: ST. MICHAEL'S CHURCH] [VAMPIRE PRESENCE DETECTED: 3 INDIVIDUALS] [POSITIONS: 1 INTERIOR (ALTAR), 2 FLANKING (SIDE AISLES)] [THREAT ASSESSMENT: CALCULATED DISPLAY — INTIMIDATION PROTOCOL]
Three vampires. Catherine and two guards. Standard security for a negotiation—enough protection to discourage casual treachery, not enough to suggest aggressive intentions.
"Two flanking the main aisle," I murmured to Jenny. "Catherine at the altar. They're trying to establish atmosphere."
"Vampires and their theater."
"Use it. If they're focused on impression management, they're not focused on us."
The church doors hung open—another theatrical touch, an invitation into the spider's web. I stepped through without hesitation.
The interior was exactly what Ruth's scouting had described. Wooden pews arranged in precise rows. Altar at the far end, raised on a small platform. Stained glass windows—dark now, their colors hidden by night. And everywhere, the smell of old incense mixed with something older. Something cold.
Candles flickered throughout the space. Votive candles, the kind Catholics lit for prayers. Someone had arranged them carefully—on the altar, along the aisle, in clusters around the pillars. The effect was beautiful in a funereal way.
Catherine stood at the altar, waiting.
She was beautiful in the way predators are beautiful. Ageless features fixed somewhere in her early thirties—high cheekbones, dark hair swept back from a face that had stopped aging when America was still settling its western territories. Her dress was black, elegant, expensive in a way that didn't scream wealth so much as whisper power.
Her eyes tracked us as we approached. Dark. Assessing. Patient the way only truly old vampires could be patient.
"The Monster King," she said. Her voice carried perfectly—acoustics designed for sermons, repurposed for negotiation. "I've heard interesting things about you."
"All true, I'm sure." I stopped ten feet from the altar. Close enough for conversation. Far enough to react if needed. "Though I prefer 'coalition leader.' King implies I've finished building."
"Ambitious." She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "And you've brought a wolf. How... ecumenical."
"Jenny Blackwood. Alpha of the Blackwood pack. My partner in this venture."
Catherine's attention shifted to Jenny. The examination was thorough and unhurried. "I remember your father. Good man. Terrible taste in hunting grounds."
Jenny stiffened but kept her composure. "You knew my father?"
"We had an arrangement. He kept his pack away from Missoula. I kept my children away from his territory. It worked for nearly fifteen years." Catherine's smile sharpened. "Until the hunters found him."
[INTELLIGENCE GATHERING: CATHERINE HAS REGIONAL HISTORICAL KNOWLEDGE] [POTENTIAL VALUE: HIGH] [NOTE: EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION ATTEMPT — USING JENNY'S FAMILY HISTORY]
I stepped slightly forward, drawing Catherine's attention back to me. "You've controlled Missoula for almost two centuries. That's impressive. Most vampires don't last half that long."
"Most vampires are idiots." She said it without heat—a simple statement of fact. "They feed carelessly. They flaunt their nature. They attract attention that gets them killed. I've survived by being smarter than my appetites."
"And yet here you are. Meeting with a coalition you could have ignored."
"I could have." She moved down from the altar—graceful, unhurried, closing the distance between us without seeming aggressive. "But you've done something unusual. Three species working together? That hasn't happened in this region since... well, never. I'm curious."
"Curiosity brought you here. What keeps you?"
"Opportunity." Her eyes locked with mine. "You're building something. I want to know what."
"A nation." I let the word hang. "A place where monsters can survive without constantly running from hunters. Where different species cooperate instead of competing. Where we stop being prey and start being something else."
"Idealistic."
"Pragmatic. Alone, we die. Together, we might live."
Catherine circled slowly, examining me from different angles. Her guards—young vampires, nervous despite their attempts at stoicism—watched without moving.
"And you think you can lead this nation?"
"I think I'm doing it. Three species. Twenty members. Territory that's legally protected and supernaturally defended. It's not a nation yet—but it's more than anyone else has built."
"You're young." She stopped her circling, facing me directly. "I've seen a hundred ambitious monsters try to build coalitions. They all fail. Infighting. Betrayal. Hunter attention. The reasons change, but the outcome doesn't."
"Then you'll have a front-row seat to watch me fail. If that happens, you lose nothing. If I succeed..." I let her complete the thought.
"If you succeed, I want to be part of it." She smiled—the first expression that seemed genuine. "Not from altruism. From calculation. If your coalition becomes powerful, those outside it become targets by comparison."
"Self-interest. I can work with that."
"Good. Because I don't do charity." She gestured toward a pew. "Sit. Let's discuss specifics."
The negotiation that followed was careful and measured. Catherine probed—asking about coalition numbers, species composition, territorial boundaries. I answered selectively—enough truth to establish credibility, enough vagueness to maintain advantage.
When I outlined the glamour services, her interest sharpened noticeably.
"You're offering identity fabrication?"
"Complete packages. Documentation, digital presence, background history. Good enough to survive professional investigation."
"And you can teach this?"
"Some of it. The foundation is supernatural—it can't be fully replicated by non-Skinwalkers. But the techniques can be adapted."
She leaned back, considering. Her guards exchanged glances—uncertain, reading their mistress's interest as significant.
"What do you want in return?"
"Non-aggression pact. Information sharing. No alliance requirements yet—just two neighbors agreeing not to fight while the real enemies hunt us both."
"That's... modest." Suspicion flickered in her ancient eyes. "Why not ask for more?"
"Because I want a foundation we can build on. Alliances forced too quickly collapse too easily. I'd rather start with something both sides can maintain."
The silence stretched. Catherine studied me with the patient evaluation of something that had watched centuries pass.
"You're different," she said finally. "Most monsters your age want everything immediately. They push. They grasp. They overreach." Her head tilted slightly. "You negotiate like something old."
"I negotiate like something that intends to survive."
"Perhaps." She stood—the conversation clearly entering a new phase. "I'll need to consult with my nest. Major decisions require consensus."
"Of course."
"But I'm inclined to accept your proposal." She extended her hand—a human gesture, deliberate and formal. "Non-aggression. Information sharing. A foundation."
I took her hand. Cold. Dry. The grip of something that had stopped generating body heat a century before I was born.
"A foundation," I agreed.
"One condition." Her grip tightened slightly. "When you're ready for a full alliance—when the coalition is strong enough to matter—I want to be the first you approach."
"Agreed."
We released simultaneously. Catherine smiled—genuine this time, or close enough.
"I think this is the beginning of something interesting, Coalition Leader."
"Call me Silas."
"Silas." She tested the name. "I'll be in touch."
She turned toward the altar, her guards falling in behind her. At the doorway to the church's back rooms, she paused.
"One more thing. You asked what I wanted. I told you blood, territory, status. But there's something else old vampires value."
"What's that?"
"Information." Her eyes glittered in the candlelight. "There are things happening in this region. Things that concern me. If you hear anything unusual—anything about demons, about special children, about creatures that don't fit normal categories—I would consider it a gesture of good faith to share."
My blood went cold.
Demons. Special children. The phrases Cormac had used when warning me about Azazel's plans.
"What kind of things?"
"I don't know yet." She held my gaze. "That's why I'm asking."
She disappeared into the church's shadows, her guards following.
Jenny and I stood in the candlelit silence for a long moment.
"That last part," Jenny said quietly. "What was she talking about?"
"I don't know." The lie came smoothly—too smoothly, maybe. "But I intend to find out."
We left the church through the front doors. The night air felt warmer than the cold that had followed Catherine.
A foundation was built. Information was exchanged. A relationship was established that could benefit the coalition for years.
But Catherine's final question echoed in my mind. Demons. Special children. Things that don't fit normal categories.
She knew something was coming.
The question was how much—and whether her knowledge overlapped with mine.
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