A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

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librarian_7
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A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by librarian_7 »

My first fic post of the New Year...welcome to 2010, or to 1863, as you prefer.

I don't own Josef. Everything else in this one is pretty much mine.


A Game of Chess

Chapter 4

Five Points was well behind him before Josef lost that itching sensation of danger that had lodged between his shoulder blades. He’d been tracked from the time he left the Aerie, although he wasn’t sure who the trackers belonged to. They were most likely Eagle Boys, out to see where the mysterious Oliver Madigan called home. Or they could be from the Blood Hand. Or some other gang entirely. He had no real desire to find out, at least, not at the moment. He’d learned that patience often brought answers, and if he had anything, he had time.

On the other hand, he had a destination, and he had no intention of leading them either to Waverly Place, or to his intermediate stop. But now, in the midst of the crowds on the noisy, gaslit row of drinking establishments that was Broadway, he felt more anonymous. Newsboys were shouting headlines about the war, but the only effect he could see on the street was an increased incidence of men in the blue uniforms of the Union Army.

Had he been more formally attired, he would have hailed a conveyance, but in his current state of dress, no carriage would stop for him. And he had no desire, patient as he could be, to spend half his night dodging in and out of Broadway saloons to elude his followers. He sauntered down the street, speeding up and slowing down to avoid collisions with the throng of men and gaudily dressed women. No respectable woman would be out on Broadway unescorted, especially not after dark. With the theatres shuttered for the hot summer months, the crowds in search of entertainment were limited to men patronizing saloons and restaurants, and entertainments of a coarser nature.

The clatter and clang of a horse car drew Josef’s attention to the trolley line running down the center of the street. Without seeming to be aware of the bells marking its progress, Josef waited until one of the crowded cars was almost past him, then darted around a passing dray while the driver barked a curse at him, and jumped onto the trolley, silencing the initial protest of the attendant with an extra silver coin. Tempted as he was to wave goodbye to the men on his tail, he went with his more conservative instincts and moved inside the car, finding a strap to hang onto, trying hard not to take in the meaty, pulsing scent of the men surrounding him. His hunger surprised him a little, his fangs lengthening behind the lips he kept firmly pressed together. He was going to have to do something to regularize his feeding situation.

Josef waited seven blocks before moving to the rear of the trolley and alighting, slipping up the first side street he saw. He was still a fair distance from his destination, and he made sure this time that no one was following, circling blocks, doubling back on his trail. Not until he was satisfied he was alone, did he strike out into a solidly middle-class neighborhood, streets lined with rows of stolid, quiet brownstones.

Nevertheless, he gave a last check up and down the street before ascending the six steps to the stoop, and giving the unmarked door a sharp, double rap. A discreet panel slid open at his knock, and he was being examined in by a pair of dark eyes set in skin the color of strong coffee.

“Mr. Fitz,” a voice said, the accent clipped and precise, “show me the sign.”

Josef nodded curtly. “Of course, Quince.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then lifted his lip to show the fangs beneath his silver eyes, and just as quickly let the manifestation fade. It wasn’t enough to prove you were vampire; a demonstration of control was also required. It was, he felt, a reasonable precaution, and at the moment, it was a little more difficult than Josef would have cared to admit. He was still pondering that when the door opened.

The doorman, Quince, a dark imposing presence, smiled and nodded at him. Josef realized he’d been coming here occasionally for months now, and had no idea whether Quince was the man’s first name, or last.

“Evening, Mr. Fitz.”

“It’s good to see you, Quince.” And it was. Josef knew he was on friendly ground for the first time since he’d left his house on Waverly Place. “Is Madame Thorne in this evening?”

“Yes, sir, she is. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

“No hurry. I need to catch a bite, first.”

“You know the way.” Quince stepped aside to clear the hallway for Josef.

He took off his cloth cap and hung it on the stand, noting that there were no others present. He grimaced a little at the sight of it. He was more accustomed to hang a higher quality hat there, he thought as he ran a hand absently through the hair on his forehead.

He knew of three other birdcages in Manhattan, but Rose Thorne’s place had the swallows he preferred. The furnishings of the house were a bit old-fashioned, but that was a nod both to the owner’s taste and the preferences of the clientele. What was it about vampires, Josef wondered, that so many of them were rakehells and libertines before they were turned, and then, when it sank in that eternity did not mean life would always follow the same patterns, that customs and times changed, became such old women? Solid, conservative citizens, complaining about how the world was going to hell in a handbasket, and wishing for the lost days of their mortal youth. Madame Rose’s birdcage was considerably more decorous than many of the human bordellos he’d seen. Of course, it was also true that most vampires didn’t choose to consort with humans. Swallows in a birdcage were meals, possibly diversions for an hour. Rose had told him once she didn’t forbid her patrons from sex with the swallows, but she didn’t encourage it, either. And never against their will.

“I’m not saying that most of them wouldn’t be in whorehouses if they weren’t here,” she’d said with a gentle waft of her fan, “but I’d like to think I give them a better chance than that, poor dears.”

Well, he’d be discussing some business with her later, but for now he had a thirst to slake.

The main parlor, where the swallows on duty congregated, was a cheery enough room, well lit and comfortably appointed. The five young women and two young men present looked up hopefully from a variety of occupations as Josef entered. Reading, writing, and needlework were put aside with smiles, although the young woman playing a languid rendition of “Lorena” on the spinet piano did not cease her melody. The young woman and young man engrossed in a chess game briefly acknowledged his presence before returning their concentration to their strategies.

Josef strolled around the room, deciding who suited him best this evening. He paused by the chessboard, and the young man pondering a move looked up with a winsome smile. “Any advice, sir?” he asked.

Josef surveyed the board. “Take his rook with your knight,” he said.

The boy stared at the board, thinking. “I see. Thank you, sir.”

Josef touched him lightly on the shoulder. “My pleasure,” he said, as the young man colored to the roots of his fair hair. Sometime, perhaps, Josef thought, but not tonight.

He settled on a brown-haired girl he’d fed from several times before. Violet was pretty, and her blood was sweet in his mouth, but she had not much sparkle to commend her. He normally classed her as adequate for a birdcage swallow, nothing more.

Since he wanted only blood from her, there was no negotiation to be made. He would take what he needed, and barring any unforeseen complications, the payment for his meal would be the standard fee to Madame Rose. It was all very civilized, very genteel.

He held out a hand to Violet, without a word, and she laid her petit point aside and rose from the settee.

Across the hall, several small private parlors gave the desired seclusion. Josef chose his favorite, the one done in warm tones of red and gold, checking, as was his habit, to make sure the drapes were completely and securely closed.

Violet watched him only to see if he had directions for her. She was pleased enough to have been chosen; once he’d fed, she could retire to her room, free of any burdens of duty for several days. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the bite, and being a swallow was easier work than, well, just about any other she could find, she was sure. But sometimes she thought she’d like to find a normal man, one who could give her babies to hold, one whose skin was warm to the touch. She smiled dreamily at Josef, and at his gesture, offered her wrist as she’d been taught.

Maybe when this war was over, when things had settled down, she’d take a ship for California. She’d heard a girl could find a husband there, not like here, not like here. She barely felt the kiss of his fangs, piercing the skin of her wrist. She could save the money for her passage. Maybe she could find some vampire traveling west? Madame Thorne had arranged such things before.

Josef gave the wounds his fangs had made a last, sealing lick, and frowned. He must be losing his touch. Her pulse hadn’t raced; she was barely cognizant of him at all, let alone swooning with pleasure. He wondered if she was disappointed, or just didn’t care. Nevertheless, she’d fed him, complaisantly, and he found a folded banknote in his vest pocket for a tip. He noticed her blood rushed well enough for that.

Normally, he’d stay for an hour or two, reveling in the attention and humanity of the swallows, in their simple warmth. But this encounter had left him disinclined for light company. He would find Madame Thorne, conduct his business with her, and be on his way. The rest of the night, he would fill with business correspondence, perhaps some reading.

He didn’t need Quince to show him the way to Rose’s office. Her private study was upstairs, first door on the left, directly above the swallow’s receiving parlor. He thought the room reflected her personality well. A careful room, painstakingly furnished, meticulously regulated. One wall of books dominated the space, from the colorful covers, novels, most of them, although he saw one shelf devoted to manuals of etiquette and behavior. Josef had to smile at that. He’d seen English duchesses and French countesses with worse manners than Rose Thorne. She might not move in the social circles of humans that would appreciate her many graces, but vampires thought all the more of her for it. And Josef expected the graduates of her academy were better prepared for the world, as a result of their time with her.

And Rose Thorne herself. Josef had first met her over thirty years before, when she was a swallow herself, a few years before a careless vampire drained her too far, and on the whim of a moment’s regret, turned her. She’d been perhaps 22, and strong enough to make the transition, strong enough to educate herself. She ran her birdcage, as she’d told Josef months ago, the way she wished the one she’d started in had been run. “Standards, Fitz,” she’d said. “One must have standards.”

Tonight she was wearing a black gown that left the creamy skin of her neck and shoulders exposed, setting off the golden luster of her blonde hair. She sat at an escritoire, her back straight as she made notations in a large ledger, frowning and tapping her teeth occasionally with a gold pencil. She looked up with a delighted smile as Josef came in, one hand moving to smooth her perfect hair. “My dear Fitz,” she said, “what a pleasure it is to see you.”

“On the contrary, Rose, the pleasure is all mine. I trust you’ll forgive my attire this evening.”

“I must admit it’s not your usual style. Still, I understand the necessity of illusion.” She tilted her head to one side and blinked. “You seem dissatisfied, Fitz. Was Violet not to your taste?”

Josef deliberately found a hard, horsehair-stuffed settee, and sat. “I chose her, and she complied willingly—and quite gracefully, I might add. You train your swallows very prettily. So, I have nothing of which to complain. But—her heart’s not in it. Either that, or I’m not the vampire I thought I was.”

“I’m not sure what else you can expect in a birdcage, Josef. After all, it is a paid arrangement,” Rose said with a touch of asperity. “If you want an impassioned heart, take the time and go out and seduce one.”

“As I said, I’m not complaining, Rose. I used her gently, gave her the normal tip, and sent her on her way. Next time, I’ll choose someone else.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Fitz. Of course you behaved in your usual impeccable manner. I fear some of our vampire brothers, and sisters, for that matter, can be louts. Forgive me.”

“Perfectly reasonable of you. I’m sure if I got you in the right mood, you could tell stories all night.”

“I could. But I won’t, and you know it.” She laughed to soften her words, but there was steel under them, and they both knew it.

Josef shifted his eyes around the room. “I actually came here with the intention of talking to you about a particular matter,” he replied. “I found myself in need of a light meal beforehand.”

“Quince had mentioned you wished to see me.” She paused, and waited for him to speak.

One thing he liked about Rose, Josef thought, was that she wasn’t afraid of directness. Perhaps it was her own experiences as a swallow, perhaps it was simply that she had a head suited for business. Josef had met women who would have done better in business than most of the men he’d known. Some of them found a way to use that talent, others did not. He’d noticed that the more successful vampire women he’d met tended toward the practical. He wasn’t sure if he approved or not, but his approval, he reflected, was not required. Anyway, if she wished him to state his business, he would do so.

“My financial affairs are keeping me very busy these days,” he started. “And as delightful as your establishment is, let’s just say I’d prefer to be able to dine at home more regularly.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Fitz, are you telling me, in your own oblique way, that you want to raid my house, for some long-term contract swallows?”

“Ah. Yes. I am.” Josef put on what he knew well was a charming smile. “Your recommendations for household staff have worked out so well, of course I turned to you for this more—delicate—matter.”

“I forget, Fitz, how many of my former employees did you end up with?” That was disingenuous, and they both knew it, but Josef answered as though the question had been genuine.

“My driver and my housekeeper both have very fond memories of their time here.” He sat back and crossed one ankle over the other.

Satisfied that he had acknowledged his debt to her, Rose put on a thoughtful look. She’d been expecting this visit for some time. “Let me think, Fitz. Who can I spare, that will suit you?” She made a show of turning a couple of pages of her ledger.

Josef waited. He might not accept her first suggestions, but he was willing to listen.

“How many were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “I prefer a small, quiet household. One, maybe two, should suffice.”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “I know you don’t play with your food, Fitz. At least, not that I recall.”

“Generally speaking, it’s not a good idea. Humans tend to be so—fragile. And they let their emotions get the better of them so easily.”

“Ah, but all the swallows love you.”

“Do they? Not Violet, I think.”

“Violet is a silly cow. And Fitz, I remember your bite too well not to understand how they feel. I had my eyes closed, thinking of you, when I was turned.”

“In that case, I’m sorry I wasn’t present for the occasion.”

“I’m not. You’d never have turned me, and where would I be now? Old. Dying, or maybe already dead. I think I prefer this.” She rose gracefully and moved to a small sideboard. “May I offer you a brandy perhaps? Or a whiskey?”

Josef pondered the lingering taste of blood in his mouth. “Whiskey, I think.” He waited, knowing she’d come to some decision, if she hadn’t anticipated his request, that is, and would tell him when she was ready. He felt the brush of the modest hoops of her skirt against his knees as she brought him his drink. He’d always found it very sensuous, the touch of the fabric like a subtle communication.

“Fitz, I’ve got a girl here who’s in need of a situation.”

“She was downstairs, earlier?”

“No. I—hadn’t asked that of her. There’s a story, of course.”

Josef frowned. “All right. I’m listening.”

“You’ve never been connected with the business side of a birdcage, have you?”

He thought about the many careers he’d had in nearly two and a half centuries. “No. I haven’t. Not—commercially, as it were.”

“Any idea about how we acquire our little birds?” Rose asked.

“I’m not sure I’ve given it much thought,” he responded. Not that he didn’t have a few ideas, but he wanted to hear how it was done here and now.

“Swallows come to us in a variety of ways, of course.” Rose sipped her own brandy thoughtfully. “You can’t just advertise for humans to feed vampires. But we get a pretty steady stream of girls—and boys, as I’m sure you noticed—who’ve been seduced to the bite, or more, and abandoned. It’s safer for everyone if they stay where the community can keep an eye on them…you know that. But, not everyone is suited to life here, even temporarily.”

Josef sighed heavily. “Let me guess. You’ve got some poor waif here, you can’t use her for a house swallow, and you want to palm her off on me.”

Rose shrugged, a delicate, practiced motion. “It sounds so uncharitable when you put it that way, Fitz.”

“But true.”

“She’s only known one vampire. And he had to do an emergency re-location.”

“Leaving her behind.”

“In his defense, it was a near thing. He was almost exposed. And he left her with my address.”

“So she turned up on your doorstep and you let her in. And now you regret it.”

Rose nodded slowly. “She was nearly prostrate with grief and fear, at that.” She paused. “Not every vampire is so—so scrupulous about intimacy.”

“I see.”

“Just meet her, Fitz. She needs a safe haven.”

“I’m not a charity, Rose.”

“I know. But you wanted a recommendation, and this is it.” Madame Thorne moved across the room to a discreet bell pull and gave it a tug.

Quince was at the door almost at once. “Yes?”

“Quince, dear, would you ask Tessa to join me?”

Josef thought he saw the lift of an eyebrow, a glance exchanged, a wordless conversation. The black man flicked his eyes to Josef, looked him up and down, appraising, before he turned and left.

Rose crossed to Josef again, laid a cool hand against his cheek. “Just wait and see.”

“You have my full attention, Rose.”

She laughed at him, softly. “Time was, my dear, I wanted it.”

“Not now? I’m wounded.”

“Oh, hush. Besides—“ she was interrupted by a timid knock at the door. “Come in, dear,” she called out.

The slender girl who entered was young, but not outrageously so, Josef thought, rising. Nineteen, twenty, somewhere in that range. Her narrow, serious face was pretty, and in his opinion she might be beautiful, if she’d smile. Her glossy chestnut hair was pulled back in a careful knot at the back of her head, although in accordance with fashion, she’d left two long ringlets to brush her shoulders. The deep color of her hair contrasted with her pale complexion, and the wide eyes she turned to him were an unusual shade of hazel. She wore the sort of dress he’d expect to see on a governess, or a woman of respectable but reduced circumstances. A light cotton print, in deference to the season, the full skirt unsupported by fashionable, unwieldy hoops. Only two points about it gave away her—status: the construction of the neckline, though modest, gave free access to her throat, and the long sleeves, tight to the elbow, belled enough below that should she raise her wrist, the cloth would fall gracefully away from the skin. Her face gave away nothing, but Josef could tell from her pulse and shallow, rapid breathing that she was very nervous.

Rose Thorne was aware as well that the girl was on edge, and crossed the room in a few quick strides to take her hand and lead her forward.

“Tessa,” she said, “there’s someone here who’d like to meet you. This is Mr. Josef Fitzgerald. Fitz, Tessa Howard.”

Tessa nodded. “Is he--?” she whispered.

“Yes, dear, of course he is. But don’t be worried. You know what we talked about.” She slipped an arm around Tessa’s waist, supportively.

Josef said nothing, his gaze intense as he scrutinized her. A cut of his eyes toward Rose made her move away from the girl, and Josef came closer, circling her, listening and taking in her scent.

She was a little frightened, he thought, but her scent was clean, healthy. Stopping behind her, he put his face close to her neck, ran one hand lightly down her arm, grasping the wrist to raise it. She smelled—delicious. Even though he’d fed so recently, his fangs ran out. Oh, yes, this one would do. He put his mouth against the side of her throat, and he could tell that the trembling he felt deep within her was not fear. Or at least not all fear. As he stood behind her, the soft press of her skirts against his legs stirred the embers of a fire within him. A fire he had no intention of feeding.

Releasing her with some reluctance, he stepped back. “Tessa,” he said, “would you like to come live in my house? To feed me?”

Tessa sank to the ground, both hands covering her face. “Yes, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she whispered. “God help me, yes.”

Rose was beaming at Josef, even as her words were addressed to Tessa. “Oh, don’t carry on so, child. He’ll be good to you.” She rolled her eyes for Josef’s benefit. “Fitz, I meant to mention, if you’d care to give Tessa something to occupy her around the house, she’s an excellent seamstress.”

“Indeed?” He put a hand out to the girl on the floor. “That’s always useful. Tessa, allow me to assist you.”

“Yes, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she replied meekly, laying her hand in his.

He frowned. “We’ll have to find something a little less formal than that.” He peered at her fingertips, seeing the tiny marks of needle pricks. “You have done needlework, haven’t you?”

Her fingers curled, hiding the scars. “I’m sorry to be so…marred.”

Josef put his other hand over hers, uncurling her fingers and touching his cool fingertips to hers. “Hardly marred, Tessa,” he said, smiling down into her face.

She turned wide eyes to him, surprised. “Madame Thorne would not lie to you.”

That bought her a short laugh. “If it suited her, she would.”

“Fitz, I am positively shocked that you would say such a thing,” Rose drawled, feigning dismay. Her tone changed back to business, though, as she continued. “We can settle details and paperwork later.”

“When did this world become so bureaucratic?”

“It’s always been that way. We just put more of it on paper, now.”

He snorted. “Progress.”

“You’re a businessman, you ought to appreciate it.”

“Hmm.” He led Tessa to the settee, where she sank down again, still looking somewhat dazed.

“Now,” Rose said, “since my first recommendation has met with such success, I am emboldened to make another.”

Josef’s eyes were shrewd as he cut his gaze from Tessa to Rose. He pressed his lips together. “Don’t tell me, another poor abandoned waif?”

“Not exactly.” She tilted her head to one side, trying to be enchanting. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one, Fitz.” There was mischief in her eyes, as she called out, “Come in, dearie.”

Josef swung around to see the chess player he’d spoken to earlier, a fair-haired boy who wore a dark waistcoat over a snowy, open-throated shirt.

“Fitz, this is Ned.”

“We’ve met,” he replied. “Did you win your game?”

“Thanks to you, sir.” He gave Josef a sweet, open smile.

Josef pivoted on his heel. “Rose, you want me to take this boy as a swallow? Seriously?”

Rose laughed. “Don’t sound so shocked. You’re looking for blood, not bedmates. And he’s experienced.”

Josef focused on the boy’s throat, noting the pattern of scars. Ned colored a bit under the scrutiny, but his bright blue eyes were steady. “I can see that,” Josef said. He gave Rose a sardonic look. “What does this one do? Tatting and lacework?”

“Don’t be sharp with the boy, Fitz. Truth is, he’s been so popular here, we haven’t worried too much about finding other talents.”

“I could use a clerk, someone to deal with books and papers in my library,” he said, stroking his chin. “Ned, could you do that?”

Ned blushed harder, and hung his head. “I don’t know how,” he confessed, “to read and write. I’m sorry, sir.”

“But you play chess. Well.” Josef was surprised to hear a soft voice speaking up behind him.

“I could teach him, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Tessa said.

“There now,” Rose added, “we’ve got you all fixed up, Fitz.”

Josef nodded with a sigh, and went to Rose’s desk for the contracts, which he was unsurprised to see were ready to be signed. “Sometimes, my dear, I think you know me too well.”

“Not so well as I’d like.”

“I’ll send John for them tomorrow.” He paused, his brows drawing down. “And, Rose, you should know, I don’t like being manipulated, even if my best interests are one of the motivations. Understood?”

Madame Rose Thorne only smiled.
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by francis »

Hmmm. Josef has been manipulated, and he knows it. He has a heart. I wonder what made Rose give him exactly these two. Tessa seems too shy and despondent to be a regular swallow. What about Ned? Can't wait to read more.
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by cassysj »

I'm intrigued. I find Madame Rose interesting and I think Tessa and Ned will compliment each other in Josef's home. Such a rich description of the birdcage I felt like I was there.
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by darkstarrising »

Clever you are, Lucky.....loved the idea of 'swallows in a birdcage', with swallows as forerunners of freshies.

One of the many details you provide in all your stories occurs here as well. As Josef winds his way to Madame Thorne's, we hear his thoughts and his impressions of the mores of the times:
No respectable woman would be out on Broadway unescorted, especially not after dark. With the theatres shuttered for the hot summer months, the crowds in search of entertainment were limited to men patronizing saloons and restaurants, and entertainments of a coarser nature.
and
Had he been more formally attired, he would have hailed a conveyance, but in his current state of dress, no carriage would stop for him.
In this story, we walk along with Josef and get a feel for the time and the place. Your description of the birdcage truly makes you feel as if you're standing in Madame Thorne's establishment.

Yet Josef is just like any other man in a sense as he feels his 'swallow' didn't find the feeding pleasurable. His ego is wounded.
Josef gave the wounds his fangs had made a last, sealing lick, and frowned. He must be losing his touch. Her pulse hadn’t raced; she was barely cognizant of him at all, let alone swooning with pleasure. He wondered if she was disappointed, or just didn’t care.
Looking forward to more. :flowers:
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by one.zebra »

Excellent chapter...will be able to catch up on the previous ones now that life has become more normal again.
(..Hubby is back to work after his heart procedure! Yea! I am not accustomed to having him so under foot.)
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by mitzie »

Great chapter!! As always, I love your very detailed descriptions of everything and everyone. I am very curious about the Madam and her manipulation of Josef. Very intriguing story and I can't wait to see where you take it from here... :yahoo: :yahoo: :hyper2: :hyper2: :clapping: :clapping: :clapping: :devil: :whistle: :shrug: :chin: :yahoo: :yahoo: :clapping: :clapping: :clapping: :clapping: :thud: :thud: :thud: :thud: :notworthy: :heart: :flowers:


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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by wollstonecraft61 »

I loved, loved, loved the Josef in this chapter. Yes, Madame Rose has one-upped him, but not to his detriment, I believe. :clapping:
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by librarian_7 »

Well, I feel now that almost all of my characters have been introduced, or at least mentioned...there are one or two more offstage (that I know of!). And we'll be seeing some of them from an earlier chapter reappear shortly.

But I'd say now that my chessboard is set up, and the game begun.

Lucky
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by eris »

librarian_7 wrote:Well, I feel now that almost all of my characters have been introduced, or at least mentioned...there are one or two more offstage (that I know of!). And we'll be seeing some of them from an earlier chapter reappear shortly.

But I'd say now that my chessboard is set up, and the game begun.

Lucky
I'm trying really hard not to make a cheesy chess analogy with pawns, and rooks, and queens... but it's not easy. Every time I start to comment on this, I have to mentally slap my hand.

You've created an interesting cast of characters, and at this point, their loyalty is too ambiguous to really know who stands where. I guess that's the point. You have to be three moves ahead before you pull out that first piece....

dang it.
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by moonlight_vixen »

Great chapter Lucky! I'm intrigued by Madame Rose and, of course, Tessa...
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by RangerCM »

I wanted to wait before reading this when I knew I'd have time to read and comment. I think this is the best chapter yet, although I seem to think that with each new chapter. Hmmmmm.

Anyway, on to some of my favorite little bits.
Tempted as he was to wave goodbye to the men on his tail, he went with his more conservative instincts and moved inside the car, finding a strap to hang onto, trying hard not to take in the meaty, pulsing scent of the men surrounding him.

Not sure what it was about this sentence that tickled me so much. I think it's that I really did expect Josef to turn and give a characteristic little smile back, so this had me grinning when I read it. Also love the description here. "meaty, pulsing scent."
What was it about vampires, Josef wondered, that so many of them were rakehells and libertines before they were turned, and then, when it sank in that eternity did not mean life would always follow the same patterns, that customs and times changed, became such old women?
It occurred to me, when I was reading this, that this is exactly one of the things I like so much about Josef. He seems to have managed to seamlessly keep up with the times. It's so common in vampire lore, to portray the vamp "stuck" in his past, but not Josef. Even though he doesn't burden himself with "things" from his past (his clothes, furnishings, etc, with the only exception being Sarah's locket) he knows the value of hanging onto people.
He settled on a brown-haired girl he’d fed from several times before. Violet was pretty, and her blood was sweet in his mouth, but she had not much sparkle to commend her. He normally classed her as adequate for a birdcage swallow, nothing more.
This is a perfect set up for what came later. Even if Josef had been there for some other business, I could "feel" that this arrangement just wasn't cutting it any more and he needed to seriously think about taking on exclusives.

Love the introduction you've given of Tessa and Ned and I am very much looking forward to getting to know them more.

:clapping: :clapping: :clapping: :clapping: :clapping: :clapping: :clapping:

More, More More!! :cheer: :cheer:
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by Phoenix »

Hmmm. Most interesting. :chin:
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by allegrita »

Love this chapter, Lucky. Josef can move in any layer of society, but I love the fact that even now, he prefers the finer things, with all the perks that go with them...like being able to hire a carriage if he wants to! And his twinge of--is it shame?--when he hangs up that dingy cap at Madame Rose's is just so very Josef...as is his reaction to the surprising lack of response of Violet ("the silly cow," as I'll always think of her--thanks to Rose!). It must be a bit of a ding to the ego, when a girl is so blase about being bitten by the Great Josef Kos-- uh, Fitzgerald! :snicker:

Rose Thorne (LOVE the name, btw) is a fascinating character in herself. Who better to run a birdcage than a former swallow turned vamp? She strikes me as an older (and undead) version of the character Kitten that we met before. Someone who is much too smart to be stuck in that dead-end life... someone with potential. For Rose, that potential was realized by her careless sire. For Kitten...? I'm looking forward to finding out what happens to her.

And I'm also entranced by the stories of Tessa and Ned. Two very different people, both a little lost in the birdcage world. Will they fit in better as part of Josef's household? Will Ned learn to read and write? And will Tessa find a way to become the capable person she obviously could be?

So much goodness to anticipate! And we haven't even gotten back to Coraline--how does she fit into all this?! :chin:
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by Penina Spinka »

How could I have missed this? I tuned into chapter 5 without realizing there had been a chapter 4. Lovely. Rose Thorn is a great name. I want to know more about these swallows. Josef with a man is always a special treat. Penina
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 4 (PG-13)

Post by jen »

Lucky

If I have never told you what a superb writer you are, let me take this opportunity to do so right now.

This is absolutely lovely. I have read of agencies that employ freshies and send them out on a contractual basis in fanfic, but here you have given us the history of this type of organization, with the intriguing name of 'birdcage' and the freshies as 'swallows'

Don't see that I have commented on this previously.

Let me rectify that right now.

Thank you!
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