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“I must say, I don’t think I’ve ever been in such nice accommodations. Are you on AirBnb? I’d love to leave you a review.”
The woman across from Michael smiles. She’s introduced herself as Carmilla but offers no last name. They’re sitting at the small table in Michael’s room. It’s a room deserving of accolades: all done in rich browns and creamy reds, it invokes the richness of European castles.
For all Michael knows, it might very well be a castle. One moment he was leaving Society, the next he was waking up in a strange room with an even stranger woman as his only companion.
“You are teasing me Mr. Baldwin.” She gently slaps at his arm with genuine delight. She’s a vibrant blonde in lush riding clothes. She reminds him of Nicki almost with the air of an important matriarch: vivacious and welcoming but with the threat of reprisal should Michael step out of line.
“I am telling you the truth. I don’t think I’ve ever had salmon so delicious.”
“That is because Ruthven just caught them this morning. He is an expert fisherman but an even better cook.”
So he’s somewhere you could catch salmon. Useful information if Michael had ever cast a fishing line or knew anything about recreational angling.
“My compliments to him on both.”
Her smile is pleased as punch. “I shall pass it on. You should see what he has planned for dinner.”
“So I shall be your guest for dinner as well?” Michael asks.
“Oh darling, do not be cross with me. I do not think I could bear such a handsome man holding ill will against me.”
“Now who is teasing?” He smirks across his wine glass. The lunch spread is quite spectacular and all served on museum quality dinnerware. Michael may have grown up struggling but he’s spent enough time clawing his way into high society to know when the fine china has been brought out.
“Mr. Baldwin you must realize what a catch you are. Handsome, educated, a lawyer with quite the record of making the impossible, possible.”
“Well thank you. I am happy my wife thinks the same.” Lauren who is probably worried sick right now wondering where the hell her husband has absconded to now.
“She is a lucky woman. I can also see why my grandson is taken with you as well.”
Grandson? Michael goes through his Rolodex of clients, friends, and enemies. Between working as a district attorney and his tenure at Newman, there’s a long list of powerful people he’s helped and an even longer list of powerful people he’s crossed.
“Grandson? He is the one who I owe the pleasure of this stay?”
“He’s my youngest, quite spoiled in the way youngest usually are,” her smile is indulgent. “I imagine he’ll be here soon. He must have noticed you missing.”
As far as Michael knows, the only person who would notice he was missing was Lauren. Maybe Phylis who still isn’t talking to him but has her ways and isn’t above digitally stalking someone. Neither of them would qualify as grandsons though.
The only other person-
“Are you talking about Victor?” Michael asks.
“Oh yes, Victor Newman,” she rolls her eyes and gives the same indulgent smile. “I of course knew him as Christian. He was such a delightful boy. Serious in a way but always so loving to his family. You could never get him off the horses.”
“Are you saying Victor Newman is your grandson?” Michael asks.
Carmilla raises one elegant eyebrow as if daring Michael to make a remark about her age.
Michael may not be a fisherman but he knows enough to not take the bait.
When Michael remains silent, she continues. “Victor Newman, what a name. Victor for victorious and Newman for new man. To be honest, he was never the most creative.”
Michael laughs. For the past 30 years he’s known the man, Victor’s preferred creative outlet has been revenge. Perhaps not the most conventional genre but Victor is certainly a master of the medium.
“Not one for subtlety my grandson,” she says. “It is good that he has you. Of course, our kind have always been partial to those in your profession.”
Several things slots together in Michael’s mind. The age gap between grandmother and grandson, the old money luxury, the hard to pin down European aesthetic, and of course, the special secret that Victor had divulged to him one dark and stormy night almost 20 years ago.
“You’re a vampire.”
“Of course darling,” she says with a toothy grin. “Isn’t it obvious?”
It should have been, Michael thinks. He certainly feels a bit like Jonathon Harker tucked away in Dracula’s castle. All the room needs is the distant sound of howling wolves to complete Bram Stoker’s picture.
“My apologies,” Michael says. “Victor doesn’t talk much about that side of his life.”
Carmilla sighs and for a moment, Michael sees beyond the societal facade. “What Victor has done is quite extraordinary. No one in my entire line has lived amongst humans as long as he has. It can be quite dangerous for our kind: more often than not it has gotten us killed.”
Michael’s internal alarm bristles at the mere thought of Victor in danger. It’s ridiculous. Ever since Michael learned about Victor’s unique disposition he’s known there’s a very small set of circumstances that could even harm the man. Still, Michael can’t help the instinctually desire to protect Victor.
Carmilla watches him with a satisfied smirk.
Michael, from his massive and frantic research dive upon finding out the truth, knows that telepathy is a possible vampire power. He throws up a mental picture of a puppy just in case Carmilla is reading his mind.
“I have never had the gift of mind reading,” Carmilla says as if she has in fact been reading his mind. “But I would not need it to know what you are thinking. You are worried about my Victor and for that I am thankful.”
Michael’s hair is entirely too white for the blush that races up from his thudding heart to his reddening cheeks.
From within the manor there’s a loud bang.
“There he is,” Carmilla says with delight. “I believe Victor will be quite cross with me at first. I do hope you’ll help defend my honor.”
There’s two quick and thunderous bangs before the solid wood door crashes open to reveal an enraged Victor.
“Michael!”
“Oh darling, there’s no need to shout,” Carmilla says with little notice of Victor’s theatrics. “Your Michael is right here. He’s fine, see.”
Michael’s body flames up. Seeing Victor in all of his protective glory (and over Michael of all people!!!) is certainly a sight.
“Join us Victor, you must try the salmon,” Michael says with a forced smile.
Victor directs his thunderous expression to Michael. “This is no joke. Grandmother kidnapped you.”
“I wouldn’t say all that,” Carmilla defends. “We’re just two friends having lunch.”
“I know what you are doing grandmother.” Victor throws himself into a chair. The patriarch of Newman goes from a protective menace to a petulant toddler.
Ignoring Victor’s accusation, Carmilla says, “Now that you’re here to entertain our guest Victor, I can go grab more wine.”
She rises from the chair with a controlled flourish. Before leaving she places a soft kiss to Victor’s cheek. “Always good to see you darling grandson.”
It’s so unexpected, Michael realizes, to see Victor letting someone care for him. All of Genoa City knows the titan that is Victor Newman. They know the power his company and his family wields over the town. They know the latest scandal or romance or court date. But they don’t know this Victor. He doubts anyone but Nicki has seen a vulnerable Victor before.
“Are you all right?” Victor asks gruffly.
“I’m fine,” Michael answers truthfully. “Is Lauren worried?”
“As soon as I realized you were gone, I looked at the town’s surveillance cameras. When I recognized it was grandmother who took you, I told Lauren that I had sent you on fact finding mission to Europe.”
Michael scoffs. They’ll need to stop in a boutique and buy something very expensive as an apology gift.
“I appreciate the rescue but I really am fine. Carmilla is a delight.”
“She is diabolical,” Victor says.
“Oh I have no doubt of that. Must run in the family.”
Victor smirks. The man’s posture relaxes, becoming more like the man Michael is used to seeing: in control of his world and confidant of his place in it.
“You said you know why she did it. Is there a reason why I have been kidnapped?” Michael asks lightly.
“My father has died.”
“Oh.” It is not the answer Michael was expecting. “I’m very sorry Victor. How did it happen?”
“He walked into the sun.”
“Jesus,” Michael curses and is glad Carmilla went to get more wine.
Victor takes a long sigh. “He was 523 years old.”
“That’s so young,” Michael says. He’s aware of the irony even as he says it. “How old are you?”
“I am young, just north of 150.”
Michael lets out a breath. Victor still has many years left. Michael will be long in the dirt before he has to face a world without Victor.
“I’m guessing you weren’t called back to attend the funeral?”
“No. Grandmother is the eldest of our line. It will be her responsibility to divide the inheritance.”
“I’m back boys.” Carmilla walks into the room with another bottle of wine. “Ruthven has let me know dinner will be ready at the top of the hour. Shall we get business out of the way so we can enjoy?”
Michael slips into work mode. He wonders if there’s a computer around here or if it’s just an ink and quill situation.
“I am sorry to hear about the passing of your son,” Michael says to Carmilla. He has read many wills. Several of those ended up being presumptuous with the person coming back to life but that’s just what it takes to be an attorney in Genoa City.
She softens again and Michael is genuinely coming to enjoy the woman.
“Thank you Mr. Baldwin. There never seems to be enough time for those you love.”
“Call me Michael please.”
“Michael then, I appreciate your condolences. Albert was ready to go. Knowing that, he was able to prepare his will in advance.”
“I do not need anything grandmother,” Victor says. “I have made my own life: built my own empire.”
“Yes you have and we are all very proud of you. But you know Victor that inheritance for us means more than money and land.”
That stills Victor.
“He couldn’t have.”
“He did,” Carmilla says.
“What am I missing?” Michael asks. He has been known to works miracles but only if he has all the clay to make the bricks.
“My father was our seat on the High Council.”
Michael’s researched vampires for the 20 years he’s known of their existence. Hard earned knowledge about one of the most elusive and evasive creatures. Victor himself has only spoken abut his nature a handful of times and almost always when it’s a life and undeath situation. But Michael recognizes those words. The High Council is sort of like a Supreme Court: a judicial system that writes laws and guidelines for all creatures.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a vote in situation?” Michael asks.
“You are funny Michael. No, it is passed down. I was the one who initially gave it to Victor’s father and he has decided to give it to Victor.”
“And if I don’t want it?” Victor asks.
“You would turn your back on your family?”
“Wow Victor,” Michael says, “I’ve never heard that line turned back against you.”
“You could always give it to one of your children. Bring them more into the fold. I’m sure Adam would find it fun,” Carmilla says.
Michael physically bites his tongue. As far as he’s aware, Nicki is the only other person who knows Victor’s true heritage. The children are essentially human, with perhaps a bit more fondness for theatrics and money and the color black than the average human. Michael’s personally always thought Nick was the most human and Adam the most supernatural and perhaps that was the cause of their friction.
“Nonsense,” Victor says. “Michael will take the seat.”
Carmilla glows with the satisfaction of a successful plan.
“I already have a job Victor,” Michael reminds him.
Victor waves away the concern. “This is a very prestigious position for our family Michael. Vlad himself bestowed it upon us.”
“We had a wild spring in Bucharest one year,” Carmilla says with a wink. “Do not worry yourself darling. It is research and arguing, isn’t that fun for you solicitors?”
Carmilla has him there.
Working with Victor has provided him with plenty for research for loopholes, board definitions of the law, and public showcasing for the benefit of his client. He’s defended Victor to every judge in town and half of the city’s citizens. And that is without anyone knowing what Victor feeds on.
“I wouldn’t be worth my salt as a lawyer if I didn’t ask the terms of the contract,” Michael says.
“Shrewd, very shrewd,” Carmilla says with a wink.
“The High Council oversees the various accords and partnerships we have with humans and the other creatures. As our representative, you would ensure our family and entire line are put in favorable positions,” Victor explains.
“Glad to see stacking the court isn’t limited to humans,” Michael says.
Carmilla smiles. “Oh darling, who do you think gave them that idea? I’m not surprised that Victor is focusing on the professional aspect but being our representative is so much more. You’ll be part of us. One of the family.”
“And by family,” Michael makes an inelegant motion to his mouth and perfectly normal teeth.
Carmilla smiles but it is Victor who answers.
“You would become one of us,” Victor says. “To represent our interests you must understand our needs.”
“It would not have to be tonight darling,” Carmilla adds. “But it would be one day and one day soon.”
“To be clear,” Michael says carefully, buying time the way lawyers do best, “you’re asking me to join an eternal governing body of supernatural beings, give up my mortality, and represent the interests of one of the most politically important families in existence.”
“I am asking you,” Victor says, “to one day join me. To join my family.”
He thinks of Lauren and her laugh and style and warmth of humanity. He thinks of Fen who battled addiction and fought to make a life for himself. He thinks of Genoa City, of courtrooms and impossible cases and the strange comfort of fighting monsters he can see.
And then he thinks of Victor Newman, indestructible titan of industry, ancient creature of the night and somehow still a man who looks to Michael for help.
“You said it wouldn’t have to be tonight,” Michael clarifies.
Victor nods. Carmilla inclines her head.
“Good,” Michael says. “Because when we do this, we will do it properly. With contracts. Conditions. Trusts and property for my family.”
Carmilla’s smile widens, sharp and satisfied. “You will do our family proud. I will have Ruthven pop the cork on the 1907 Heidsieck.”
Ruthven appears as if summoned by Carmilla words, rolling in a cart with crystal flutes and a dusty bottle. He pops the cork with ceremonial care. The sound echoes through the stone walls like a punctuation mark.
“Time for a toast.”
She pours, the champagne pale gold and lively, then raises her glass.
“To legacy,” she says.
“To family,” Victor says.
Michael lifts his last. “To informed consent,” he says dryly.
They drink.
The warmth of the champagne spreads through Michael’s chest, grounding him.
He’s still human. Still breathing. Still Michael Baldwin, attorney-at-law, husband, father, and brother.
Michael looks across the table to Victor. He may not know what tomorrow brings but he knows who it includes.