Of course, Jenna did go to the lesbian bar with the rest of us after all. Grant insisted that he and Tiny come along, knowing full well that they wouldn’t be able to enter the bar and would have to find someplace close to hang out and wait while we had our girl fun. As it turns out, there was a typical hetero bar pretty much right next door down the alley, so they managed to get a bite and have a beer or two while waiting for us.

Standing in front of the place that Jen had picked out for us girls, I could see the look of dismay on the face of Mizuki, our translator. To her credit, she’d been amazing for the last few days, especially with the makeup for Emmy thing, but this outrageous lesbian bar was obviously well outside of her comfort zone.

The little bar’s frontage was all neon saying “Girls Girls Girls,” rainbow flags, and hand-painted signs saying “Ladies Only”.

Following Jen’s lead, the rest of us filed in through the narrow hallway that soon opened into a room not very much larger than the hallway had been. There was a bar with stools along one side and the other side was a series of small booths, just barely big enough for four close friends. Past the end of the bar there were a bunch of small tables, and then a tiny little stage with a big TV screen behind it for karaoke.

The place was mostly full before we arrived as it was almost midnight on a Friday, so the addition of the seven of us pretty much brought the bar to capacity. There was no way the seven of us could fit in one of the booths, so we crowded around two of the tables near the karaoke stage.

Like a saloon scene in an old Western movie, the whole place fell into a hush as we entered, all eyes on us. The object of the most attention was Emmy, of course, but that didn’t stop the patrons from eyeballing the rest of us in turn. I was used to it, but I could see that the scrutiny made Jenna and especially Mizuki uncomfortable.

Jenna sat down with Angela and me, while Emmy, Jen, Mizuki and Trish (one of the backup vocalists) sat at the other table. Almost immediately the star-struck waitress distributed drink menus printed in Japanese and English- apparently the bar got plenty of international customers, and I was happy to discover the the staff all spoke enough English to communicate without Mizuki’s help.

A few of the other women in the place came over to speak to Emmy, but aside from the bright pink (of course) neon sign that said, “Trust Me, Love Me, Fuck Me,” the place didn’t really give off much of a meat market vibe at all.

After the waitress brought our drinks, Jenna commented that it wasn’t like she imagined a lesbian bar would be like at all. “I’m not sure what I imagined,” she said, “But this kinda isn’t it.”

“You need to go to the one we went to in Seattle,” Angela told her. “It was all pink and lavender and gold inside with murals painted on the walls. It was really nice.”

“This isn’t bad,” Jenna protested. “It’s just… I don’t know. I expected dancing, I guess? And maybe, like, Donna Summer on the stereo?”

“I should open a bar like that. Just completely stereotype the Hell out of it, you know? Like you said, nothing but Melissa Etheridge, Indigo Girls and kd lang on the sound system, and all the drinks would be pink and fruity. Oh, and the menu? Nothing but breasts and thighs, and of course, tacos,” I said.

“What?” Jenna demanded. “Why tacos… Oh, ha ha ha. Sure, tacos,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I like tacos,” I said, my tone hurt and defensive.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Jenn agreed.

“Tacos are delicious!” I continued, and the friendly banter seemed to help Jenna get over her nerves a bit.

Eventually Trish found her way to the karaoke station, to the cheers of first her table, then the rest of the bar. She scanned through the menu of songs, ultimately settling on one and hitting the button to start.

“They tried to make me go to rehab,” she sang, doing her best to emulate Amy Winehouse’s saucy attitude.

Of course, the whole bar sang, “No, no, no!” when the time came. Also of course, the effect of the song was set off perfectly by the pink Martini that Trish was waving around as she sang- It was the absolutely greatest prop she could have picked.

When Trish finished, the whole bar clapped and cheered for her. The bartender called out something and most of the patrons besides those sitting at our tables raised their hands, leaving us puzzled.

“This means she gets a free drink,” the waitress explained to our table. “Everybody who like the song hold up their hand and if most people say yes, free drink.”

When it was explained to Trish, she said, “I like the sound of that! Thanks, everyone!” she said as she stood to take a bow.

“Emmy!” somebody at the far end of the bar called out. She repeated it, and more of the crowd joined in, including some from our group.

It took no time at all before the whole bar was chanting her name, so Emmy stood, smiled at the crowd and asked, “What song?”

Women started calling out Downfall songs, but Emmy shook her head. “It would not be right for me to sing my own song,” she said, and I could hear people translating for their friends around the bar.

Emmy made her way to the tiny little stage and looked through the song menu on the computer screen while people called out song suggestions. Finally Emmy found one she liked, and turned to face the crowd.

The song started out with a simple plucked electric guitar melody, soon joined by a piano that played a complimentary line. Emmy sighed into the microphone, then in a breathy voice began. “Nicky’s in the corner, her black coat on,” was soft and sultry, and when she sang, “Beautiful girl, stay with me,” it was indescribably sexy.

I didn’t know the song, but when the audience started to sing along with the “stay with me” refrain, I sang along, too. When Emmy softly sighed out the last “Stay with me,” I can pretty much guarantee there wasn’t a dry pair of panties in the house.

Accepting the applause, Emmy said, “Arigato Gozaimasu,” showing that she’d already picked up more Japanese than I had, to my complete lack of surprise. The bar patrons clamored for another song, but Emmy shook her head and said that she took her turn, and now it was somebody else’s time to sing.

Of course nobody in their right mind would ever try to follow Emmy De Lascaux, so although Emmy hadn’t intended it, she managed to shut the karaoke down for the rest of our time there.

A few of the braver ladies there that night came over to ask for selfies. The bravest of all was a young-looking girl who pulled up her top so Emmy could autograph her cute little boobs, which Emmy did with a smile. The girl told Mizuki that she was a big fan of The Downfall, and had tickets for the next night’s show. Emmy told the girl, thanks to Mizuki’s translating back and forth, that she should write down her and her best friend’s names and Emmy would see they got backstage passes.

The girl (whose name I never actually learned) was probably imagining hot backstage lesbian groupie sex, judging by the shine in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks, but she returned back to her booth and her friends without any further fuss.

We left after about an hour and a half, all told. I was ready to hit the rack, and I wasn’t the only one. It was late, and I had things to do in the morning.

“I had a good time,” Jenna admitted in the van on the way back to the hotel. “It wasn’t what I expected, but it was nice.”

“Would you go to a lesbian bar again?” Jen asked from the seat behind Jenna.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think I would. I mean, not by myself, you know? But for, like, a girls’ night out, sure,” Jenna answered.

“Too bad we don’t have any in LA,” Jen grumbled. “There’s the Oxtail over in the Valley, but everyone says it’s gonna close soon.”

“We should hit it before it does,” Jenna suggested.

“It’s a date!” Jen agreed, and they shook pinkies across the seat back to confirm it.

I was up early the next morning to use the hotel’s fitness room. Pleased to see a brand new treadmill, I spent an hour putting some virtual miles in. It helped sweat out the previous night’s festivities, and helped bring my focus to the day’s plans.

Back in the suite, I showered and got dressed without waking Emmy or Angela, then took my laptop out to the living room area to do some research.

After a couple of hours it was getting close to time to go, so I kissed Emmy and Angela, but only Angela woke. “I’m going to the airport to get the guys,” I told her. “I’ll make sure I’m back before you two leave for the sound check.”

“O.K.,” she mumbled, turning back to snuggle against Emmy.

At the front desk I told the concierge I was going to need a van to pick up some more hotel guests from the airport, and they had something ready within minutes. All in all, the staff at the hotel had been extremely accommodating, not even raising any objections to my more… non-standard requests. I was sure I was going to be hit with a hefty bill, but that was O.K. as long as they did what I asked, and so far, they had.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

It was easy to spot Michael and the others coming through customs, since they were all tall and as black as night, getting quite a few stares from the rest of the people there at Narita Airport.

They spotted me immediately and we were in the van in no time. I gave the driver an address, and after a little bit of convincing he agreed to stop there before heading back to the hotel.

Virtually every knife shop that I’d found online specialized in cooking knives of various kinds and styles, but that wasn’t what I wanted for the guys. After quite a bit of digging, I finally found a shop that carried actual daggers, made by hand in the traditional Japanese style. Sure, they also sold swords, but that wasn’t what we were after.

The unassuming shop’s tinted windows made it hard to see inside from the busy commercial district street outside, and I had no doubt that was intentional. The place had quite a selection of ceremonial swords, both antique and modern, but made in the traditional style.

After looking at the options, I bought four of the black-finished five inch blades, one for each of the guys. As it turned out, the silk cord wrapping the handles came in four different colors, so the knives were individualized in that respect. I handed Michael the gold one and let the three guys choose who got the purple, green or blue.

The serious drawback to the traditional hand-forged aspect was the eye-watering price tag- nearly four thousand US dollars each, when all was said and done.

The ornamental and yet functional design of the blades, along with the fact that the shop’s proprietor asked no questions despite speaking passable English, led me to the suspicion that the typical clientele might be engaged in criminal enterprises and be heavily tattooed… But that was neither here nor there. We got some beautiful and expensive but stunningly sharp daggers, which would do for the meeting. I didn’t truly expect that they would be needed, but still…

Since the driver spoke English we only talked about meaningless things in the van, but when we got the guys checked in I had them gather in our suite’s living room to discuss matters.

I explained that the blades were theirs to keep after the mission was over as a special reward for this duty, and that seemed to be very well received.

“We are at your command anyhow,” Eddie said, “But thank you. These blades are very beautiful.”

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “My expectation is that the knowledge that you guys are all armed and ready to rumble will do to keep anything from getting out of hand. The locals just need a peek, just a hint that you’re good to go. If they realize that we’re not going to be intimidated and that we’ll take them down if they try anything, well…”

After explaining my plans to the guys I suggested they take naps if they needed to. I wanted them to be sharp by five o’clock, so they should relax and recover from the flight until then.

“If you’re hungry, try the top floor restaurant,” I suggested. “It has surprisingly decent Italian food.”

After Eddie, Jace and Nick left, I sat down with Michael to discuss plans more thoroughly.

It was about this time that Emmy and Angela made their way out into the living room, showered and dressed to face the day.

“My queen,” Michael said, rising out of his chair.

“No need for that, Michael,” Emmy said, indicating he should sit back down.

“Em, your dad just texted. They landed about half an hour ago,” I said.

“My father?” she asked, puzzled.

Seeing her confusion, I apologized. “I thought I’d told you he’s coming for tonight’s meeting.”

“No, you did not tell me that,” she said, “But I am glad he will be here. Angela and I need to be at the venue by two- will he be here before then?”

“He should be here by lunchtime,” I said, glancing at my watch. “Michael and I were just talking about how things should go tonight.”

“Well, we will leave you to it, then,” Emmy announced. “We are hungry, so we are going down for breakfast now.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “Take Tiny with you,” I said.

Emmy looked as if she were about to object, but then simply said, “We will.”

After they left, I told Michael that my biggest concern for the next twelve hours or so was that the local Night Children may use the meeting as a distraction to go after Emmy.

“Why do you think they might?” he asked.

“My feeling is that they’re committed to the old ways, and are concerned about her exposure,” I said. “My instinct says this will be a peaceful meeting, but I want all the bases covered. I have two- no, three fundamental concerns for the meeting,” I told Michael. “The first is that the meeting is a setup. This is why I want us to be overly prepared, and to show strength.”

“I think that, barring very committed foes, we will put up enough of a visual disincentive,” Michael said.

“I hope so. My second concern is that this might all be a waste of time. They may well simply tell us to shove off and not bother them anymore, leaving us no better than we were before,” I said.

“But also no worse,” Michael suggested.

“No, no worse, except for the lost possibilities that we’ll know might exist,” I agreed. “The third thing, and I don’t want this to sound bad, but my third concern is that I don’t want to be sidelined by Emmy’s father and the locals. It’s important that this be seen as my meeting. He’s just here as support, not as the main player.”

Michael thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I think I understand the ramifications.”

“See, here’s the thing,” I said. “This really isn’t about these locals, per se. This is about the other Night Children nations. I want them all to know that it was me, undisputed Queen of North America, who found and brought this previously unknown group into the fold, and that the new guys support my goals. I want to be able to shove my connections in Marfan’s face. Him and the other holdouts like him. I’ve been dangling the idea of actual ambassadors instead of this stupid shitty game of spies in each others’ courts, right? Well, showing to the other rulers that we are actively pursuing our agenda, and these new guys agree with us…”

“I have been thinking about it for a while now, and I doubt we have any spies in our midst,” Michael said.

“Oh, I know we do,” I countered. “I don’t know who they are, but Emmy’s father has relayed some information from some of his spies about what the other courts know, and they know things that could only have come from someone in our organization. I don’t believe it’s upper-level stuff,” I said, staving off Michael’s protests. “But the other courts do know what we’re doing in a general way. According to Mr Lascaux’s intel, at least two of the other courts are watching with great interest. Ultimately, the smaller nations will fall in line with whatever the two biggest do, but we’re shaking things up like nobody has before. So the fact that there are spies actually helps us, in a way.”

Michael exhaled, then nodded. “I still don’t like the idea,” he said.

“Seriously,” I agreed. “This is why I wish the nations would get their heads out of their asses and send legit representatives for actual dialogue, not this stupid hints and innuendos bullshit. But this is where we’re at right now. If we can come away from this meeting with some sort of tangible agreement of support, news will get out fast- we’ll make sure of it, and so will Mr Lascaux. Best of all, if we can set up some sort of formal ambassadorship, and then get Mr Lascasux to agree to one in Paris, it’ll kick open the door.”

Michael nodded slowly, thinking about what I’d just said. “So, our goal is for the Japanese Night Children to admit to their existence, and their polity to agree to formal relations with ours. You believe this will help legitimize both them and us with the other Night Children nations?”

“Exactly. We need to sell them on the idea that hiding is no longer feasible and day walker societies have moved beyond the times of pogroms aimed at Night Children. Once they come to grips with that reality, then we need to offer them our support. We can offer Emmy as their, um… I’m not sure of the right way to say it, but their figurehead, or at least the one who can open the door for them with the general public,” I said.

“She does seem to be very popular here,” Michael agreed. “The TVs in the airport were showing clips of the concert last night. I couldn’t understand the commentators, but they focused heavily on Emmy.”

“You saw all the girls dressed like her out in front, right? They’re crazy about her,” I agreed. “And I think we can leverage that.”

When Angela and Emmy got back from breakfast we all just shot the breeze for a while. Emmy wanted to know how Jassie was doing, and that led into a discussion about how Michael planned to move to Los Angeles once Jassie left for school, and things like that. Michael said that he enjoyed the South Bay and they’ve had a good life there, but he (and his daughter) were ready for the next phase in their lives.

“It will be good to have you near,” Emmy said. “I know that you have been doing great work for us and our people, but on a selfish note, I do miss you and Jassie.”

“It will be good to be nearer to you and Leah,” Michael agreed.

“Honestly? The West is pretty much locked down now. It might make more sense to relocate to New York for a while, until we get the East Coast sorted out,” I suggested.

“That would make sense,” Michael agreed. “For a while, anyway.”

“Michael,” Angela said. “”I’m sorry if I don’t really understand what you do for Leah and Emmy. You run the paramilitares,” right?”

“No, not really,” I replied for him. “Michael runs the program that finds new Night Children and brings them into our organization. The, uh, military arm of things are under his jurisdiction, but not really the main focus of what he does.”

“That is mostly Grant and Eddie,” Michael agreed. “I am more concerned with housing, jobs, and health and education for our people.”

This seemed to satisfy Angela, who really hadn’t shown all that much interest in involving herself in Night Children business at all.

While we talked about nothing much, I got a call that Emmy’s dad had checked into the hotel. I told him what our room number was, and soon enough he was knocking on our door.

To my surprise, and maybe to Mr Lascaux’s, too, Angela gave him a hug when he joined us. Interestingly, Emmy did not, but I’d never seen her be physically affectionate like that to her parents. Mr Lascaux seemed pleased by Angela’s warm greeting, though, and gave her an affectionate smile.

“I am glad to see you looking so well,” he told her. “Pregnancy seems to be agreeing with you.”

“It is,” she smiled, looking down and patting her tummy.

“Angela,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it, “Your daughter will be a welcome gift to this world. The madame and I, we are looking forward to holding our first grandchild in our arms.”

“You’ll be there when she’s born, right? You’ll be there at the hospital?” Angela asked.

“Nothing could keep us away,” he said.

“I’m going to consider any time I have with our daughter a precious thing,” I said. “What with all the grandparents demanding their baby time.”

“Grandchildren are our reward for having put up with our own children,” Mr Lascaux replied with a smile. “Do not think for a moment you can steal this from us.”

Glancing over at Emmy, I saw the sweetest but saddest smile on her face. I wondered if this was a side of her father she’d never seen before. I’m certain, from what I knew of the man, that he loved his daughter, but theirs was a very different relationship than what Angela had with her parents.

After a few more minutes of pleasantries, Mr Lascaux, Michael and I excused ourselves and went for lunch at the hotel’s top floor restaurant to discuss the meeting.

At lunch, I voiced my thoughts on what might happen, and Emmy’s dad agreed that ‘trust but verify’ was an appropriate approach. I told him what I knew and what I suspected, based on the assumption that these local Night Children really were the ninjas of myth. Mr Lascaux agreed that it would seem to be a likely connection, but none of us had any really convincing theory on why they wouldn’t know anything of ancient Night Children culture.

“I brought a translator,” Mr Lascaux said. “He is, in fact, Japanese, but speaks perfect French and English. He is not a Child of the Night, but he is discreet. We can say anything in front of him without worry,” Emmy’s dad explained. “He worked as translator for the U.N., so he is well versed in cultural differences and avoiding inadvertent offense.”

“That’s excellent,” I said, “Since the two I met hinted a few times that I might be treading on their sensibilities a little bit. When I implied that I was half-breed, they said that was taboo.”

“So you have heard that rumor,” Mr Lascaux said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I have. Actually it was Michael here that first told me about it. He mentioned that he and Emmy hadn’t done anything to stop it, so I figured I might as well lean into it.”

“It is a useful fiction,” Mr Lascaux agreed with a smile.