A Game of Chess, Ch. 1 (PG-13)

[librarian_7]

Disclaimer: If you recognize it from Moonlight, I don't own it. Otherwise, it's mine.

A/N: Yes, this is the beginning of a new multichapter historical. I hope those who have come along for previous rides, will enjoy this one, too.

A Game of Chess


New York, 1863

Chapter 1

The slanting rays of the late afternoon sun were softened, filtering through the foliage of the Washington Squares’s tall elm trees. A summer breeze flirted around the surrounding buildings to ruffle the newspapers of the old men reading on park benches. And in one sun-kissed spot a pair of elderly gentlemen spun out the long days of their retirement with a wooden board and a worn set of ivory and ebony chessmen, fighting an older war than the one reported in the blurry ink of the papers. From time to time, they overheard snatches of discussion. The merits of the siege tactics at Vicksburg and Charleston, the debates on local politics. But neither man paid heed, engrossed in the movements of bishop and queen, knight and rook. One by one, pawns fell, major pieces shifted and dueled.

The players were old opponents, well-matched and experienced in the game. As the light grew fainter, they paid no heed to the passing carriages, the steady ring of horseshoes against the brick paved surface of the streets. Elsewhere, a war might be raging, the countryside laid waste by foraging armies, but Greenwich Village was untouched, life continuing in its accustomed pace.

One of the chess players hazarded a knight, and saw it plucked from the board and returned its place in the worn red velvet of the case. The other risked a bishop in a foolhardy gambit, and saw it taken as well. Both considered the losses necessary to the advancement of their plans, although their hopes and perceptions varied.

Even a shining black equipage from the new houses over toward Waverly Place on the north edge of the square could not distract them, the glossy matched sorrels jingling their harness brasses like medals of valor as they passed, the driver too straight and haughty to pay heed to anything so mundane as a pair of old men playing chess on the edge of an iron-railed park.

The passenger in that carriage, though, missed little that happened around him. He flicked idly at the lapels of his formal black suit, stuck a finger inside the high collar of his starched white shirt. Why humans chose to torture themselves with these binding cloths around their necks, he would never understand. It made him wonder about his commitment to fitting into a mundane world that required such things.

Still, he appreciated good music. It was one of the finer things humans had devised, and while he had no particular talent for producing music, he was a good listener, with a discerning ear. No reason not to enjoy the fruit of their labor. After all, what were humans for, if not to provide him with endless entertainment? And tonight, in a rare summer performance, an opera. Not, he reflected, likely to be a good opera, but as the horses clopped on down the street toward Broadway, and the Winter Garden Theatre, it was better than no opera. Besides, you never knew who else might be in attendance, did you?

The theatre was packed, and Josef had to tip an usher extravagantly to lead him to the box seats his associate Schuyler Smith had obtained. The usher was an old hand, and parted the crowd expertly, leaving Josef to follow in his wake. Josef was feeling almost assaulted by the press of humanity around him, drowned in the scent of overheated flesh, and deafened by the cumulative roar of a thousand beating hearts. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the willpower to deal with being in so much company; of course he’d perfected the necessary control long ago. That didn’t mean he always enjoyed the experience.

Once they left the general hubbub of the lobby, into the more rarefied atmosphere of the stairways and corridors leading to the private boxes, Josef relaxed. The number of hearts, the rush of blood behind the small curtained arches that led to the boxes was manageable, tolerable, and he put on an affable smile as he walked into Schuyler Smith’s box.

“Fitzgerald,” the man greeted him, “you made it. Good.”

“An opera? At this time of year?” Josef replied. “It would be folly to miss it.” He adjusted a chair so he could survey the crowd in the dimly lit theatre, and sat.

His host for the evening was a man leaving the first flush of youth, and entering what he no doubt thought of as his prime. He was, in the best fashion, beginning to show his prosperity as stoutness. Josef considered him as yet another in the long line of sharp businessmen he’d dealt with over the centuries. They all seemed surprised that one apparently so young displayed so much acumen, but once over the initial shock, they were also all determined to take what advantage they could of association with him.

Schuyler Smith matched all the earmarks of a New York success story, and besides, he had the silent backing of his large and socially prominent family. That he’d assured that backing, by marrying into another set of blue-bloods only proved his intelligence, even if the woman was a sour-faced snob, with a disposition to match her habitual expression of disapproval. It was of little interest to Smith, anyway. Josef had determined long since that Sky Smith was not unknown in certain low haunts in the city little-frequented by other members of his class. There were brothels out there that catered to his specific tastes, and the knowledge of this was much to Josef’s advantage. He was always on the alert for such information, and he considered the money he’d paid for it well worth the expense. Having a trump card always paid off in the end, even if he never had to play it.

“Mrs. Smith not joining us this evening?” Josef enquired, waving away the offer of a glass of wine. “What a pity.”

Smith smiled, or at least arranged his fleshy features into a twisted parody of that expression. “Mrs. Smith—does not approve of secular choral music. And this is one of her regular prayer group meeting nights.”

“Well, we can’t have her missing that.” Josef nodded sagely. “I don’t see many familiar faces tonight.”

Smith glanced around the other boxes, never letting his gaze stray down to the orchestra seats. After all, anyone worth knowing would be in a box. “Summer,” he said negligently. “No one in town if they can be elsewhere.”

“I don’t suppose they’d let a little thing like a civil war stand in the way of their seasonal migration.”

That bought him a laugh from Smith. “Not a chance, Fitz. New York society would refuse to acknowledge the Apocalypse, if it fell on an unacceptable date.”

Josef smirked. There was a reason he enjoyed Smith’s company, beyond the fellow feeling he had for another with a secret to hide. “How about the Second Coming?” he asked as innocently as he could.

Schuyler Smith snorted. “My dear Mr. Fitzgerald. His name is not found on the Social Register.”

“Of course.”

The absence of the most elite social stratum had not kept the boxes at the Winter Garden from selling out for this unusual performance. Smith might be looking for acquaintances or business associates; Josef was hoping to sight another sort of being entirely. Not that it was entirely a question of sight. He breathed in, trying to sort through the myriad odors of the crowd: unwashed bodies, perfume, sweat, food, liquor. Finally, though, he caught that unmistakable faint reek of decay. There was at least one other vampire here. Maybe more. But where?

“Ah, there we go,” Smith said. “Fitz, do you see that box across the way?”

“Several dozen, in fact.”

“Third tier, second along from the stage.”

Josef followed his friend’s gesture. The box Smith indicated was inhabited by a young couple of no particular interest, and a formidable, much older woman who was frowning out at the theatre crowd through a lorgnette. Then a second woman moved forward with a careless laugh and the rapid flutter of a fan, the elaborate ringlets of her stylishly dressed dark hair bobbling seductively around her bare shoulders. Something about her…Josef’s senses went on point. Vampire. Younger than himself, but no fledgling. Oh, no. This one had some decades under her belt.

“Interesting,” he said. “And you know them?”

Smith shrugged. “I’ve known Cam Marshall since we were pups. His mother—that old dragon glaring at us—and mine are cousins.”

“I’m assuming the young lady in pale yellow is Mr. Marshall’s wife?”

“Ah, yes. Another cousin of mine, this time on Pater’s side. Sweet little thing.”

“Are you acquainted with the other woman?”

“The dark one? Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. Handsome girl, though. Must be a friend of the family.”

Josef really was past caring about non-essential information. “Any chance of an introduction?”

“Don’t see why not. Cam’s an up-and-comer, no mistake, and he could be useful for you to know. We can slip round at the interval, and I’ll do the honors.”

Josef clapped his white-gloved hand on Smith’s shoulder, companionably, before settling back in his seat. “Good man, Sky,” he said as music started and the curtain began to rise.

[redwinter101]

Mmmm yum scrum! Lovely opening, Lucky

That he’d assured that backing, by marrying into another set of blue-bloods only proved his intelligence, even if the woman was a sour-faced snob, with a disposition to match her habitual expression of disapproval.

Even though the un-delightful Mrs. Smith doesn't appear, we know her well already.

Evocative, beautifully visual, with Josef about to embark on another intrigue. I can't wait to see where you take us.

Red

[mitzie]

This is very intriguing!! Sounds like he is about to meet Coraline. I love this story and can't wait to see where you take it from here...


mitzie

[eris]

Oh dear. It looks like nothing good happened in theatre boxes while Lincoln was president.

[one.zebra]

Sweet! Lucky, you're writing is as rich and satisfying as the Godiva truffle I had for dessert...MmmMmmMmmmm.....

[tucutecats]

OH another Joseph story, I am overjoyed. Maybe he meets Coroline?Just love your stories. can't wait for more.

[cassysj]

It's New York and Lincoln is President. I'm very excited.

[moonlight_vixen]

I'm already intrigued Lucky...

[LadyAilith]

An intriguing beginning to another journey with Josef. I can hardly wait for more! Thanks so much Lucky.


LadyAilith

[allegrita]

What gorgeous word pictures you paint, Lucky! You've got me comfortably ensconced in the highest circles of New York society, circa 1863... where everyone who was anyone was married to somebody's cousin. I love the language, the mannerisms, the impressions you give us of people's personalities. You set the stage so beautifully!

I loved this:

Josef was feeling almost assaulted by the press of humanity around him, drowned in the scent of overheated flesh, and deafened by the cumulative roar of a thousand beating hearts. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the willpower to deal with being in so much company; of course he’d perfected the necessary control long ago. That didn’t mean he always enjoyed the experience.

The crush of crowds must be very uncomfortable for vampires, and you give us an almost visceral explanation of why that is the case. Beautiful!

And that lovely, vivacious brunette with the curls brushing her shoulders... I bet she'd give Scarlett O'Hara a run for her money...

[wollstonecraft61]

I really liked this, Lucky. I agree with Allegrita. I love the ambience you set up in the theater. I, too, can hear the hum of conversation, smell the musk of too many closely pressed bodies, even feel the buzz of a myriad beating hearts! Good job.

[francis]

Oh, fabulous, another historic Josef. You take the few tidbits we know and make them into such a great tale. I can see and feel and hear and smell the opera house. And the dark haired beauty wouldn't happen to be someone we know?
Waverly Place was in his possession back then?
And I love Sly, your original character, because he's - original.

[Phoenix]

Oh yes! (My lack of an articulate comment is no reflection on your wonderful story, Lucky...)

[Albra]

The first historical, and at the same time - first Josef-centric, multichapter I've ever read was your "Dust".
Thanks to it I've grown fond of both - historical and Josef-centric fics.

I've found beginning of this new story very interesting and I'm going to follow the course of events.

[RangerCM]

Grinning from ear to ear! A new historical fic from the Librarian herself!

This one starts out so beautifully. It has such a cinematic feel to it. The scene opens on the old gentlemen in the park, setting the tone for multiple battles to come, and then the "camera" moves to Josef's arrival ...... and your "world" opens brilliantly from there. LOVE IT!