Micah woke in a good mood. His new lair was well-appointed and he had all the comforts he wanted: nice bed, space heater, a tap into the water lines and a stereo. And that was just the downstairs. Whoever had constructed this place (and he seriously doubted it was the dumb fledge he dusted to get the place) did a great job. There were some, well womanly touches to it, but he’d fix that tonight. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to having a woman’s touch around, his Sire was a woman. First things first, though, he was hungry. Time to find someone for breakfast.
Micah dressed to impress, deciding since it was his first real night out on the Hellmouth -he’d arrived last night, but between the fights and hunting for a lair, it wasn’t a real night on the town – he would make an impression tonight. Sleeveless black suede duster, tight black jeans, some new hiking boots with silvery buckles he stole in New York, and the heavily warded spider pendant his Sire gave him when he woke into undeath. He purposely wore no shirt, in order to show off his pale swimmer’s build chest. Yes, Micah was vain and wasn’t too proud to admit it. Besides, it helped lure women and men to him, for food and fun. Micah was turned at 19, and with his shaggy shock of sable hair and large, dark eyes, he painted the perfect picture of debauched innocence.
The cemetery was quiet when he emerged from his new crypt. Micah muttered an incantation under his breath and sent some power licking over the structure, warding it from intruders. He turned and went out into the night.
Finding dinner was quick, some fool who thought he would mug the “dumb fag” and was sorely disappointed. Micah laughed as he in turn mugged the dead man, taking a largish wad of cash, his switchblade and neat silver lighter. Time to go exploring.
Wandering the town on the outskirts first, Micah was surprised at the number of Thrakken demons about. Too many for such a small town, but he put it off to Hellmouth weirdness. He found the local demon hangout, the club all the town’s dumb teenagers hung out at and the burned-out shell of the old high school. He headed back to the main drag, and stopped at the first place with lights on. It was an occult and antique store called Rayne’s Fine Antiques. He was surprised at the tingle of real magic; usually places like this were New Age head shops.
Micah decided to go in, taking a second to check for obvious traps (mystical or otherwise). The interior of the store was nicely dim and cluttered in an artful way.
“Can I help you?” A British voice called from the back. “I – Oh my, a vampire, and what’s more, a warlock. Intriguing.”
A lean, handsome older (looking anyway, cause Micah was 100 years a vampire) man stepped out from the shadows of the back of the store.
“Hmm, a Chaos Mage, on the Hellmouth. How…not surprising,” Micah smirked. “But I bet you’re full of all sorts of useful information and gossip, so no snacking, yet.”
The man laughed, albeit nervously. “Well, I suppose I can oblige you, although I would like to ask a few questions myself.”
Micah looked at the man closely; he was afraid but not too afraid. He had the air of someone who’d seen a lot and was confident in his own abilities. This could be amusing, besides it would be easier to learn about the Hellmouth, its power players and the Slayer from someone in the know.
“Alright, then ask your questions mage.”
“I’m Ethan Rayne by the way, since we’ll probably be doing a lot of business together.”
“Oh and why is that?”
“Because the only other magic shop in town is run by the Slayer’s Watcher.”
“Ah…how…funny. Well, I suppose I’ll play along then. I am Micah Tremere, Master of the Order of Aundae.”
Ethan’s eyes widened.
“The Order of Aundae? I thought they were a myth. A whole Order of powerful witch and warlock vampires, it was always a legend. And you’re a Master, at your young age?”
“How would you know how old….Never mind, you’re a mage, of course you know,” Micah snickered. “As for our Order being a myth, well, we are private and small and not interested in the hierarchy of the various vampire orders. So we stayed out of all the crap over the years. And I earned my Master status, dammit. Besides, it isn’t like I’m the first young Master, not even the only one. Look at William the Bloody, a Master at 120.”
“Funny you should mention him. I have a funny story about him….”
Micah sat in a nearby chair. “I have time, tell me.”
Ethan spent the next three hours telling Micah everything he knew about the Hellmouth, the Slayer, Spike, the Scoobies and the all the things he knew about the demon world in Sunnydale.