~Madamus~

Upstate New York - June 20th, 1945

"Bring me a new cat," Madamus whispered to Michael. He leaned back in the chair.

Layered linen blocked the window, but a dim indication of sunlight still leaked through. It wasn't enough to burn his skin, though his arms grew numb and hot He thumbed the silk aside, and peered out across the gardens. The light was needles on his eye, but the sight was worth the pain.

The wedding had reached it's peak. Doves flew in small flocks above rows of family, and friends all wearing white and black. Carmella and Virgil embraced -his navy medallions reflecting sunlight, and her diamonds glittering. Together, they glowed.

The sunlight was overbearing. Madamus drew back to his desk, still clutching the cat. Vito now stood in the corner, replacing Michael.

"Angelo's arrived," Vito said. "You want me to send him in?"

"Did I ask for him to be sent in?" Madamus waited for an answer, it never came. Eventually Vito realized Madamus wanted a response, so he shook his head. "Then don't send him in," Madamus put the cat in the center of the table. "I'll have time for my son once business is complete, and the festivities are over. Anyways, I'm sure he wants to watch his sisters wedding."

"And you don't?"

"I've seen more weddings than you've seen women," Madamus smiled. "I want you to fetch Kristopher Benito from the crowd. I need a word with him" He's seen the bulk of the wedding. Only drinking and buffoonery for the remainder of the night.

Vito nodded his head, and left the room. With a serrated comb, Madamus gently took small tufts of the cats white fur, and tossed them into a neat pile. I'll have Vito clean it up later.

He swore he could see the red rose in his breast-pocket wilting. It was minute -almost non-existent- but still, it was there. Age only made degradation more apparent. Madamus had seen his family die a dozen times, and on certain occasions he had killed them off himself. It was all part of the cycle.

He fingered the collar of his tuxedo. It was tight, and uncomfortable. Compared to what he had to wear during his childhood -before the Binding- the rigid clothing may as well have been silk night-gowns. Back then they wore pastel wigs infested with lice, and cobweb lace that strangled you tight enough to make your breathes whistle. Buttons were non-existent; everything needed to be tied. Misery in the form of clothing.

He set the comb aside. A small patch of the cat's bare skin was now exposed. Madamus took the cat back into his lap, and pet its head.

Vito came through the door without knocking. Kristopher Benito slack lined behind him meekly. He held his hats in jittery hands. This one needs help, but he won't ask for it. Madamus thought. The Benito's always pay their debts.

"Madamus... I-i appreciate the invitation to your daughters wedding, and to your office now. I know today must be incredibly busy, and stressful, but-"

"Please, sit down. Relax," Madamus motioned him to sit. "Vito, why don't you get us both a drink. You do drink, do you?"

"I do."

"Well I have some wine that will change your life."

Kristopher smiled.

"Aged six-hundred years," Vito goaded, the bottle comically large in his arms.

"I didn't know they aged wine that long," Kris said.

"They don't -not usually. But this wine is special," Madamus said. "It could last another six-thousand years, and still be as sweet," he took the bottle from Vito, and manipulated it in his hands. His eyes scanned the fading label. "From the year I was born, actually."

He poured the wine in equal measures. It was sweet, not a hint of bitter, but it had a thickness to it. The inky liquid lingered in your throat, and sat in your stomach warmly. One sip made you want to take another, and each one tasted better than the last.

"This is the best wine I've ever had," Kristopher said.

"Strange that I would call you to my office, before my own son, isn't it?" Madamus said quietly. "I bet you're wondering about that right now, no?"

Kristopher nearly choked on his wine. "In all respect, Madamus, my thoughts are far from this wedding, or your son."

Madamus had a habit of guessing others thoughts, but he was never any good at it. On most occasions it only lead him to wild assumptions. That being said, age had lifted the veil of social projections, but it only did so much. Plus, Madamus assumed any good psychologist should be able to view an individual without that veil,

"But I am curious as to why you called me into your office? To be honest, I thought someone was gonna slit my throat the second I sat down!" Kris exclaimed, smiling. Madamus did not smile. Kris went pale. "I know you knew my father, and his father."

"And respected both of them. You know, neither one of them ever asked me for a favor. And I doubt you ever will either, even if you need the help," Madamus goaded.

"I realize my families tribulation have been a public spectacle this last year. The media is ...harsh. Yet, understandably. My sons actions were despicable."

"I would agree that your sons actions were despicable; any crime against a child will stir the masses enough for a public flaying," he smiled. "Many of my men would be vehemently opposed to your sons action, I imagine some would even find it morally just to attack you because of it. But that doesn't matter, this is solely between us -the Benito's and the Asters. I want you to understand that I would never hold a man accountable for the actions of his seed."

"I'm not going to ask for your help, Madamus," he said sternly. "Again, I appreciate your gratuity -the wine is splendid, and your family out of a painting. But like I said, you knew my father, and I know that your help always comes at a price."

"This is true. If you accept my help, I ask a favor upon you -or your family. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a generation, but I will ask for the favor."

"Why did you call me into your office?" Kristopher asked.

"Because I respected your father, and it's clear you need help. I know your family to be intelligent, and well established, but all of you are stubborn. You don't ask for help, so I'm giving you a gentle nudge."

"Like you said, your help comes at a price."

"An exchange of favors," Madamus said. "I did you a favor by bringing you into my home -my office- and giving you the option," Madamus said. "Offering you free help would be idiotic, I would gain nothing from it, understand?" it was clear he was growing irritated. His voice grew louder, and clearer. "But I feel an obligation to your father, to your family to at least offer my hand, with the repercussions transparent."

"How can you help us? Even if you get my son out of the trouble he's in, he's still guilty, and he deserved to be in prison, or worse."

"But what if the media could be swayed. what if the story could be shifted," Madamus said.

"I still don't understand what you could do, or how you could it."

"I have done it before, and my talons extend further than the news, boy." The cat crawled from his lap to the desk, it's green eyes gazing deeply into the Benito heir jittering in his chair. "Do you accept my help?"

Kristopher Benito only thought it over a moment -not even remotely long enough to truly understand the implications of his actions. Still, one could ponder that for a life-time. Decisions span generations. Madamus would make sure of that.

"I accept your offer, Madamus. Thank you, from me, and my family," he took his hand gently, and kissed it.

Vito led Kristopher out of the office.

The cat still stood in the center of the desk. He fingered the pare patch of skin. It was grey; a virgin to the sunlight. The cat looked up into his, green eyes meeting milky red.

"I should have named you," Madamus said softly, stroking white fur. "Perhaps I will."

A tongue like sand paper ran along his fore-finger. He pushed another finger towards the cats mouth to incite a second lick. It never came. "I'm going to name you Shorthair," Madamus said to the cat. In reference to both the animals breed, and it's short hair. Descriptive. All names should have meanings.

Madamus dug two fangs into Shorthair. The cat only had a moment to react -to thrash claws at the mans leathery face. But she lost energy quickly; Madamus consumed it. The cat was a she. He hadn't checked before, but he could always tell once the draining began. Her life energy was dim -a third as bright as humans- but it still satisfied the craving enough. It was a hold-over for the inevitable main course. Birthed the day of the Binding, the thirst was eternal.

Once Shorthair was empty, Madamus threw her corpse aside, and drew back to the window. Once again, he gazed out across the gardens. The sunlight was momentarily blocked by a threatening cloud, so the pain was only a dim glow. The wedding ceremony had finished, the crowd of onlookers had moved from the sea of seats to the freshly mowed lawn.

Three sharp knocks on the door. Madamus did not look away from the window, he knew it was Michael. "Come in," he said.

Carmella and Virgil packed themselves into the Ford Country Squire -last years birthday present- with the words Just Married painted across the back window in Italian. Family waved, women wiped tears from painted cheeks. The couple lingered outside the automobile, chatting, and eventually tossing a bouquet of flowers to a flock of white-clad women.

Michael held a tabby in his arms. He approached the desk, and put the cat in the center.

"Shorthairs in the corner," Madamus motioned to the corpse.

"Ahh, so you're naming them now," Vito stuffed the dead cat into a trash bag.

"Get the ledger," Madamus said. "We have a new favor to mark in."

"Another?" Vito said. "You're backed up a century, at least."

"Right -there's no time to waste. Mark House Benito down as indebted to Aster," Madamus commanded from behind the desk.

"As you command, sir," Vito left with a nod.

Madamus thumbed the silk aside. Angelo shook Virgil's hand, kissed his sister, then strode off away from the crowd. Always quick with appearances, not unlike his father. The cloud blocking the sun was whisked away by strong wind, and the sun once again pierced his skin.

The newlyweds entered the car, rolled the windows down and waved out of the windows. Madamus squinted his eyes. Virgil twisted the ignition, and the automobile detonated.

The fire engulfed the car and crowd. The light so intense it ripped into his skull, rubbing salt into the grooves of his brain. His nerves pummeled.

A family fragmented. Another child lost to the fire. Another name in my ledger. This day is growing busier.

Madamus took a tuft from the tabby's neck with the serrated comb.