A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

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librarian_7
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A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by librarian_7 »

Hey, my friends, I know it's been quite some time, but at last, an update! As usual, I don't own Josef...I just make him jump through a few hoops now and then.

A Game of Chess

Chapter 14

Josef ran his hand though his hair, disarranging it with a quick, rough gesture that betrayed his attitude. He replaced the flat cloth cap on his head, pulling it down until it hid all but his piercing gaze from the rest of the dim, smoky room. He didn’t bother smiling; there was no point in disguising the foul mood that gripped him. The Aerie was crowded tonight, as always, but the hum of voices in the hot air was not the usual beery camaraderie he’d come to expect. He was pondering his next move; the atmosphere of the city held little interest, except as it affected his business dealings. He’d made as much of a hash of his social and personal lives as he thought was possible, although the morose little voice in his head said things could always be worse. A torch-bearing mob coming after him seemed unlikely, but one never knew for sure.

He wasn’t paying attention to all the movement around him, and when a pair of small, soft hands fell on his shoulders, it took him by surprise.

“Madigan!” a pleasant feminine voice exclaimed. “What are you doing sitting here on your own?”

Josef reached up to capture one of her hands, and pulled the girl around him, settling her into his lap. He forced a smile. “Waiting for you, Kitten, what else?”

She gave him a coy, sidelong look, and a laugh. “Of course you were.”

“I certainly didn’t come here to let some other girl sit on my lap.”

“I’d scratch her eyes out if you did, Madigan,” Cat replied, twining her arms around his neck.

“Oooh, the kitten has claws.” Josef felt a bit of a smile cross his own face, possibly the first since that debacle at Coraline Duvall’s place the other night.

Kitten was, he thought, astonishingly sensitive to his moods. She snuggled closer, the warm scent of her filling his nostrils and masking the smell of smoke, whiskey, and men. “You seem down, Madigan. Something wrong?”

Josef had to remind himself, this girl was not a swallow, that he was determined to leave her pretty throat unmarked. “Nothing much, Kitten. I lost a game.”

Kitten’s hands were busy, caressing his chest, soothing his shoulders. “It must’ve been important to you, though. Did you lose much?”

Josef considered for a moment. A soul, he’d lost. Not his own; he suspected that one was long gone. “A small thing, really. Nothing of much consequence. But it’s the pride of the matter.”

Kitten murmured sympathetically. “You men and your pride,” she said with a soft smile.

He looked her in the face, quirking one side of his mouth. “I suppose I shouldn’t carry on about pride to someone who can’t afford the luxury of it.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, and smiled back uncertainly. “What you need,” she said, “besides a fine girl like myself on your knee, is another glass of whiskey.”

He tightened his arm around her. “Practical woman, Kitten,” he said, and signaled to the barman with his free hand.

When the drink came, he swallowed half of it in one gulp, then gave a sip from his glass to the girl on his lap. He didn’t have to fake the whiskey grimace; even if it had no power to intoxicate, the alcohol still had a therapeutic burn in his mouth. He’d wondered, sometimes, why his system could tolerate alcohol, when otherwise he could take nothing but blood. Just one of the anomalies of his existence, he supposed. He was allowing himself to be jollied out of his bad mood, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He realized it was dangerous to ignore the tension thrumming in the room, but Kitten resting softly against him, pliant and trusting, was having an effect. He might have to go back by Rose Thorne’s birdcage before he returned to Waverly Place. He supposed he needed to talk to her, anyway, about setting up a meeting with Patrick Thornton. Even with the Eagle Boys on guard, there had been too many incidents, and while he wasn’t wholly dependent on the fortunes of Night Wind Trading, his competitive nature wouldn’t let him rest with a fight to be won, or a deal to get the best of.

Get the best of. Ha. He’d been bested, right enough, by Coraline Duvall. That second game of chess. He’d thought he had her measure, after the first one. He’d been arrogant, assumed his victory assured.

He’d been wrong.

Coraline wasn’t just devious, she was—strategic. She’d used everything she’d learned from the first game, and everything he thought he’d learned, to engineer his defeat.

He’d realized all that, too late.

The game had been a near thing, but in the end, the white queen, and her bishop, had pinned him to the wall with nowhere to turn and run, and his allies helpless to interfere.

He didn’t give up graciously, studying the board even after her triumphant “Checkmate,” but there it was.

She’d smiled with malevolent sweetness, the laughter in her eyes shared with Cynthia, watching nearby. “Now, Josef,” she’d said, “are you going to stop bothering me about Cam?”

The only triumph Josef had been able to wrest from his defeat had been minor. “You know, my dear, we never really defined the terms of the wager. But for now, I suppose, he’s yours.”

Damn it all, he’d been so sure. There was no reason for such a misstep on his part, and yet—he took another drink. He didn’t intend to dwell on the past. Keep moving, and make new plans. That was his motto, always had been. Forward movement, that was the key. And if Cam Marshall fell by the wayside, well, he’d done what he could, hadn’t he?

His attention was caught by a sudden commotion up by the bar. A man with an unruly shock of graying red hair had picked up a wooden bung starter and brought it down on the surface of the bar with a loud boom, momentarily stilling the talk in the room. Josef, taking a quick glance around, noticed two or three of the Eagle Boys look to their leader, to see if action was needed, but the Eagle, ensconced at his usual table, shook his head, and the man began to speak.

Josef listened with some interest. He’d not seen this man before at the Aerie, but it was obvious he was there with the Eagle’s consent and approval. He stood at the bar, a schooner of beer at his elbow, his voice pitched to cut through the noise and the smoke. He spoke with a brogue that was too thick to be born American, and it almost made Josef nostalgic, to hear the accent and the rhythms, but what he had to say, that was of even more interest.

“I’m telling you friends, something will have to be done, and soon. Rich men, and rich men’s sons, are payin’ their way out of the army, and leavin’ us to go in their places, and fight for them and die for them. We’ve all been around in this city, we’ve all seen the signs in the windows, the jobs standing, wanting, and yet they all have the sign. NINA. No Irish Need Apply. We’re not good enough to live with them, we’re not good enough to work for them, unless they need someone to carry their soil to the ash-heap, or shovel the ashes of the fires that keep them warm while we freeze. But we’re more than good enough to go die in their war. And what for? To earn the freedom of other men, who’ve not fought for themselves? I’m telling you, lads, it’s a sin, a sin and a shame. They treat us worse than they treat…anyone. A week ago, did you hear the story? It wasn’t in the papers, but believe me, brothers, it happened. There was a girl, a sweet young colleen, a pretty, braw thing, working for some fancy jumped up French whore. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck. And they tossed her out on the midden like some piece of garbage. And they do it, why? Because they can. They can get away with it, and they know it. D’ye want to fight for them, d’ye want to die for them in some war, that they’ve brought on themselves? Are we to go and be drafted, when we have no stake in this country? Most of us came here to get away from the oppression of the British, and what did we find here, in this country where the milk and honey flows and the streets are paved with gold? We found the same…old…shit. And I say, lads, it’s time for us to say no. To stand up and fight for our own, not for them.”

The murmurs and voices of agreement in the room washed over Josef, the rise of voices that followed the speech alarming him. If this was the sentiment in one bar, it was undoubtedly the sentiment in many. And from such things, such demagoguery, mobs were born.

The speaker took a long swig from his beer, wiped a hand across his mouth, and continued. “And what happens, friends, while we’re gone to war? How will our wives and children survive without us? When they kill us off, fighting for their noble cause of freedom, our wives will be made whores, and our children, beggars, just to find a crust of bread to eat.”

There was a general surge of outrage, and the voices in the bar swelled again. Josef took another swig of his drink, and wondered exactly what the speech-maker intended these men to do. In his experience, almost the only avenue of redress for such inequalities involved violence. Torches, screaming, and a shocking waste of blood. He supposed, at least, that in the city, there would not be a prevalence of pitchforks involved. He’d hoped New York would be conveniently far enough away, and too monolithic in its importance, to be much affected by the fortunes of war. Other than in the raw financial sense, the ways he intended to turn turmoil into profit.

He felt a sudden claustrophobia, or at least an unease with being in the midst of this crowd of angry men. Josef was the last to worry about any man, any individual man, but he’d learned the hard way that even his vampire nature was not enough to level all odds. “Oliver Madigan” was not the target of these men’s ire and resentment, but they could easily decide that Josef Fitzgerald was one of the rich exploiters. He thought uneasily of the papers in his desk, certifying that the draft penalty was paid for himself and his “ward” Ned. He’d have paid for his coachman, Fox, too, if the man hadn’t been a year or so past the age limit.

It was, he thought, time to beat a strategic retreat into the night. He rose easily, supporting Cat to a standing position with one arm, as her resting place shifted.

She stared up at him, wide-eyed at this evidence of his strength. “Madigan?” she whispered.

“Time for me to go, Kitten,” he replied, digging some coin out of his waistcoat pocket. “For your time.”

She took the coins, making them disappear into her skirt pocket without looking at the amount. It was money for nothing, however little it might be. “Don’t you want my company?”

A wry smile was her only answer, and Josef turned away to wend through the crowd.

Cat stood watching, then flicked her eyes over to the Eagle, an unspoken question on her face. Sullivan nodded, his own eyes following the man he knew as Oliver Madigan on his way out.

She sighed, and evading several pairs of clutching hands with a laugh and a pert word, took her skirts in both hands to ease her passage. On the street, she looked both ways, trying to spot Madigan’s retreating figure in the gloom. He had travelled an astonishing distance with just a few seconds head start, but she thought she recognized his broad shoulders down the street, and hurried off in pursuit.

Josef was aware of the footsteps behind him, light and quick, stuttering in their haste, and surmised that Kitten had been ordered to follow him. He knew he could easily outpace her, lose her in the dark of the city night, but for reasons that were unclear to him, he did not do so. He slowed, slightly, to allow her to catch up, then stopped as she boldly slipped a hand around his waist, and looked down at her. “Now, what brings you along here, Kitten?” he asked.

She shrugged and grinned up at him. “Maybe I like you, Madigan,” she replied.

Josef swallowed several answers. No need to be cruel to this child, no matter what her motives. She was being moved around from one place to another more surely than any pawn on a game board. Just as the pieces in Coraline’s elaborate set, she was a pretty little thing, carved by the forces that beset her. Whether she was a red pawn, or a white one, might be yet unclear. For now, he was willing to wander this chessboard of a city, with Kitten beside him.

They walked for hours, with no destination in sight, the tall man with a short woman under his arm, shortening his strides to her, until she began to stumble with weariness. Josef had been lost in thought, little of it concerning the beating heart beside him, even if he took some solace for loneliness from her ephemeral presence. Streets and blocks passed, parks and slums, businesses shuttered for the night, and the occasional patrolling watchman who gave them only a passing, incurious look as they moved on.

The second stumble brought him back to the present. It was getting on toward dawn; he’d walked the night away.

“I’ve worn you out, haven’t I, sweetheart?” he asked.

She tried to answer with spirit, “Never, Madigan!” but her words were mumbled with fatigue, and she clutched harder at his waist, to keep on her feet.

Josef sighed, and swung her up in his arms. “Where do you sleep, Kitten?” he asked. “I’ll take you there.”

It was a long way from where they were, but that was of little concern to Josef. The girl was nothing in his arms, no burden at all. He left her, sleeping, on the steps of the rotting tenement she called home, while the city stirred to life around them. She’d be safe, for the moment. As safe as anyone, he thought, striding away about his own business in the dawning of the day.
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by jen »

What a rich alternate view of history you present here with vampires and freshies occupying much the same roles they do in the Moonlight universe of L.A.

Coraline Duvalle has a lot of experience in being devious and cold.

Thank you!

Jenna

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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by darkstarrising »

Ah so glad to see an update!! :yahoo:

So Josef has been bested...and the taste of defeat is a bitter one.
He’d been bested, right enough, by Coraline Duvall. That second game of chess. He’d thought he had her measure, after the first one. He’d been arrogant, assumed his victory assured.

He’d been wrong.

Coraline wasn’t just devious, she was—strategic. She’d used everything she’d learned from the first game, and everything he thought he’d learned, to engineer his defeat.
Two old vampires, not yet ancient in this time frame, yet both skilled at manipulation, and Josef has been outwitted by Coraline. Yet it seems there is some admiration for being out-maneuvered by her. As for Cam, Josef seems willing to let Cora have him, something that may sit even less well than being bested by her.
Damn it all, he’d been so sure. There was no reason for such a misstep on his part, and yet—he took another drink. He didn’t intend to dwell on the past. Keep moving, and make new plans. That was his motto, always had been. Forward movement, that was the key. And if Cam Marshall fell by the wayside, well, he’d done what he could, hadn’t he?
You paint a picture of even more danger for Josef...if the men in the Aerie take the words of the unknown speaker to heart, there'll be more trouble for Josef than he might be able to handle....just who is that man, anyway?

In previous chapters, I felt sympathy for Mrs. Cam, yet here I feel for Cat. Both women are pawns, and they have little or no say in their movements on this intriguing chess board you've created. :rose:
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by cassysj »

:hyper2: Glad to see an update

Defeat brings important lessons ones I'm sure Josef won't ever forget. I do feel for Cat here it's a hard world for women in the best of circumstances.

I've actually toured some of those tenement buildings that Cat calls home and they were crammed dark places.

Coraline is quite clever, but while she may win a battle I think Josef will win the war.
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by librarian_7 »

jen, dsr, cassy, thanks so much for the comments! The atmosphere is pretty fraught, in New York at that time...Josef is starting to realize he's sitting on a powderkeg that has nothing to do with vampires.

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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by francis »

Great atmospheric piece, Lucky! The women here are all pawns, except for the queen Coraline. I love the symbolism of the chess board. It seems to me that Josef should plan out his next moves carefully. I'm looking forward to more.
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by tucutecats »

Great update, as always you invoke the period perfectly;you are the best.love ya!!!
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by NightAir »

Josef finds interest in the humans around him and treats them with kindness, yet they still seem to occupy a peripheral role in his thoughts and motives. To a certain extent, they are just pawns to him as well.

The war Josef thought was far away is much nearer than he imagined. The unrest simmering just below the surface is threatening to boil over and take the vampires in the city down. I wonder if that will give Josef an opportunity to wrest Cam from Coraline after all? The game's not over yet.

Thanks for the new chapter, Lucky. They're always worth the wait! :hearts:
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by allegrita »

This is great. You got me to go back and read about this era, and now I'm even more enthralled. There were so many things going on in New York during the time Josef and Coraline met; a maelstrom of discontent and unrest that was made worse by the war. Knowing a little of the history of that time, I shudder to think of what may be coming.

All this excitement is affecting Josef's life, both vampire and financial. He's caught in a net of forces that he may not be able to control. It's going to take all his wits to get him out of this mess, and I wonder if he'll have much of a fortune when it's all over.

What a shock it was to lose that chess game to Coraline. I think his estimation of her went up several notches as a result of that evening... and more than that, I think his wariness of her will never fade. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say... he will not underestimate her again.

But what's to become of Josef and Rose, and his new swallows? Will Coraline destroy Cam? And even if he escapes, what will happen to him and his family? I find myself worrying myself sick over Kitten, too... I can't wait to find out how you resolve this incredibly complicated and exciting story, Lucky.
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by RangerCM »

Josef out of sorts.... hmmmm..... not a place he likes to be!
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Re: A Game of Chess, Ch. 14 (PG-13)

Post by jen »

Outstanding.

Sorry to hear that Coraline prevailed in the chess match. She has, indeed, gained a lot of skill at being devious.

What a rich tapestry of society New York was at this time.
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