A sharp rapping jolted me out of a pleasant, if strange dream.
Groggily, and with great confusion, I sat up and glanced at the clock. It was three thirty in the morning. The rapping noise sounded again, this time more urgent. It took me a second to realize it was coming from the door. With a groan I pulled myself on the bed, than cursed myself for forgetting my slippers were on the other side of the bed as my feet hit the cold wooden floor. Again the rapping sounded as I hurried over, sounding impatient. I opened the door.
Bright, golden light spilled in, blinding me for an instant. As my eyes adjusted, the blurry figure in front of me resolved into LaCroix, who looked as if he was just in the process of reaching for the handle before he straightened up. I blinked owlishly, mumbling "Sir, whats going on?..." The vampire cut me off.
"Get dressed. You are to accompany me to a Kindred trial that begins in half an hour. We leave in twenty minutes."
Without another word, he turned smartly around and strode swiftly back down the hall and out of sight. His sense of urgency lent me incentive to move fast. Shutting the door, I flicked on the light and ran to the bathroom where I splashed my face with cold water to wake me up. I rushed over to the wardrobes, racing to find something appropriate. As I dressed into a sober black suit with a white camisole underneath, I contemplated my dream.
I had been walking alone down a dark, dark street. Brightly lit windows glowed on either side, but gave little light onto the street. I was confused, and scared, but also a little excited. I liked this dark road, it gave me strange purpose. But suddenly, I was not alone. Both Lydia and Johnathan were walking beside me, laughing and smiling. And in the strange ways of dreams, Lydia looked different, but how, I couldn't figure out. Johnathan beckoned me to a lit window, but I was afraid of the light. It would mean the end of something, but of what I couldn't say, only that I would miss it very dearly. Lydia was gently pulling me back into the street amidst Johnathan's cries for me to join him. It was when Lydia was about to say something when LaCroix's knocking had woken me up.
What did it all mean? A dream this direct had to mean something.
But I had not more time to think. Furiously I brushed my hair and pulled it back into a tight bun, looking every inch a Ventrue's ghoul. I rushed down the hallways, terrified at becoming lost and therefore being late. Luckily, I made it to the front door with two minutes to spare. LaCroix was there, pacing back and forth, looking absolutely furious. Instead of the massive Sheriff, several vampire body guards stood close by, glancing nervously at the fuming Prince. My arrival caused him to pull up short in mid-pace, his pale blue eyes raking my appearance. "Good." was all he said, his voice short and agitated. Eyebrows still knitted together, he stalked out the door with six bodyguards and a worried ghoul in tow.
_
She felt so relaxed.
Every muscle on her body was limp, every last one. It felt wondrous. But there was something wrong with this.
She wasn't breathing.
Desperate for air, she drew breath... but felt no satisfaction, no relief, as oxygen flooded her lungs. Why didn't she feel any relief?
And her teeth, they felt odd. Too big, and sticking out almost away from her mouth. Her fingers were strange as well, too heavy, too long.
All of this was too weird. She had to wake up, find a mirror or something to figure out what was wrong. With an effort, she opened her eyes. And in stared horror at the greenish gray, boil covered limb that once was her arm.
She flung the covers off of her and sat bolt upright, catching sight of the monster that sat in the chair across from her. Her breath choked back in a sob of fear. And then something caught her eye.
A mirror.
Lydia Harrows screamed in terror at the hairless monster she found in the place of her reflection. And to her redoubled horror, the creature screamed as well.
She screamed until the door burst open and a wooden stake was driven into her heart.
_
The Prince glowered into the dark streets of Los Angeles from the black limo. I shrank into my seat, doing my best to not draw attention to myself. Every squeak of the leather, every rustle of clothing, was an invite for him to turn his wrath on me. But at the same time I was curious as to what the hell was going on. What could put the cool headed Ventrue into such a simmering rage? Curiosity waged a war with fear. In the end, curiosity won, but caution warned me against being too brazen. At this point, anything could push him over the edge.
"Sir," I ventured, testing the waters of discussion. LaCroix spared me a sideways look, daring me to speak. I took a deep mental breath, and offered my query.
"Why are you so angry?"
LaCroix looked back at the window, let out an annoyed sigh, and turned to me, resting his elbows on his knees and gesturing briefly yet emphatically with his hands as he spoke. "You see Alice, there are those who believe that they are in favor of those in power, and that because they are in favor to those in power, they do not have to follow the law. No, they believe that they can get away with anything, that I'll just, blow it off, forgive them, ignore their transgressions, and everything will go on as it was before." He raised a pale fist, glaring at the floor and looking direly like he'd love to hit something. Then he suddenly got a hold of himself and sat up straight. He stared pensively towards the front of the vehicle. "Is it Vincent?" I asked. The old youth glanced sharply at me. "How did you know?" he demanded, to my alarm. I hastily put together a thought that was forming in my mind. "W-well, Vincent was just chosen as the new Nosferatu Primogen, a-and so considering your words, he seemed the most logical person, in my knowledge, to believe that he could do, do whatever he did." I looked away, not wanting to meet those icy eyes. I felt their stare on me for another instant before LaCroix looked away, out the window again. A small sigh issued from his fanged mouth. The limousine stopped in front of the green sign of the Nocturne theater.
"We're here." was all he said. With swift, sharp movements he exited the limo.
_
Sebastian strode swiftly down the back hallway of the theater with the girl close behind him, silently berating himself for showing his rage. She was supposed to like him, not fear him! Not that fear wasn't useful at times, but right now he would rather cultivate a bond based on the idea that he was the only safe haven, saving fear for only the most dire situations. Perhaps he would keep tabs on her friends and remaining family. If things really got out of hand, well...
A few human lives were a small price to pay for the Old Soul's undying loyalty.
_
As they entered the small room where the prisoners were being held, the Sheriff stepped forward to report. Sebastian listened intently to the massive creature's rumblings as the girl wandered over to where the prisoners lay staked. In the middle of the report, Sebastian felt his ear twitch at the briefest, most strange high pitched noise. He ignored it, but the next instant it happened again, except louder and a touch longer. The next moment brought a short high pitched scream that turned into sobs. He whirled around to find the Old Soul collapsed, holding a hand over her mouth as she divulged into hysterical tears. He bit back a snarl of annoyance. Now what? He rushed to her, but before he could speak, she pointed a shaking finger at the illegal fledgling Nosferatu and whimpered:
"It's Lydia! Oh my God, it's Lydia..."
Sebastian thought back. Lydia, who was Lydia... Oh yes, from the funeral. Lydia was... was...
Oh no. Oh no, no, no...
Staked on the cold pavement was Alice Kepler's best friend. And in the next hour, he was going to have to kill Lydia in front of her. Well, this was going to improve relations quite a bit, he thought sarcastically. Sebastian's mind raced as the girl continued to sob into his chest. In the next few moments, he would have to, somehow, explain this to her. And the moment came. With tearful eyes, she looked up at him. "Are you sure?" he asked, hoping against all hope that she was wrong. But she wasn't. "Y-yes, I'm sure." She pointed towards a spot on her back. "See? The heart tattoo? And where the artist made a mistake with the bird's beak, making it more curved than the others? And tried to cover it up with shading?" She whimpered like a thing in pain. "What did he do? What is this trial for? To punish him? For forcing her into... into what she is?" she cried. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Here we go.
"Alice, Alice dear, you must listen to me. Vincent broke Camarilla law by Siring a Childe without my permission. For this, he will die. But, unfortunately, as his illegal progeny, I'm afraid that Lydia will have to suffer her Final Death along side him."
Sebastian watched in growing horror as the girl's face became paler and paler with each word, until he uttered the words "Final Death". With that, she cried out despite his attempts to hush her. "What? Why? It's not her fault he did this to her!" she practically shrieked into his over-sensitive ears. Then she began too simply whimper, begging "Please, please, don't, I'll do anything, anything..." Surreptitiously Sebastian glanced at his watch. There was no more time to deal with this. With a sigh, he motioned for a guard. "Take her back home to Venture Tower-" "No!" came her firm, if wobbly voice. Ancient eyes, now haunted, met his own. "No." she said again. "I have to see this." Miraculously her tears had dried up, and she wiped what remained with only slightly shaky hands. Sebastian eyed her doubtfully, but she seemed steady now, determined really. How had she learned such self control? Probably from some other, harder, life.
"Go then." he said. "Find yourself a seat among the others. And Alice?" She stopped. Turned.
"I'm sorry."
With a slow nod, she turned around and disappeared out the door.
_
Stacey the Malkavian met me outside the door to the seating area. "Poor little widow, salty rivers have flowed down your pale visage." She brushed a hand tenderly down my face, mismatched eyes scanning my own. "Whats wrong? Did the cookie monster steal your snack? I'll bring you his head!" In spite of myself I almost laughed, stopped only by the realization that she was quite serious. "N-no." I stammered. "It's my friend..." Tears streamed down my face while I furiously wiped them away. Stacey frowned as if in thought. "Rose children. I need a Rosie, stat." she disappeared, quite literally vanished into thin air, making me start. A moment later Isabelle came through the door with Stacey close behind. "Flower Child to the rescue!" she declared, but then suddenly began to pace back and forth anxiously. Isabelle ignored her and came over to me. She looked fashionable in a fur coat and brown leather corset, her short red hair done up in black chop sticks. Pale arms encircled me while manicured nails ran through my hair. "Child, oh child, tell me what is so wrong," she crooned, her voice so lovely and tender it made me want to cry even more. Instead, I told her.
"Lydia, my closest, bestest friend in the whole wide world, she's a, a... oh God, she's a Nosferatu!" I cried, unable to contain my pain any longer. "Oh my dear! What a terrible, terrible tragedy! Oh my darling, you have my deepest sympathies." Sky blue eyes were all compassion. "Did Sebastian dearest not try to save poor Lydia? No? Well, darling, sweetheart, you must understand," Strong fingers and thumb gripped my chin gently so I would meet her gaze. "Mr. LaCroix is Prince, and sometimes, Princes have to do cruel things in order to help the community. "B-but, how is this h-helping?" I whimpered. The Toreador sighed. "Ah, child, if only you knew. There are so many of us who would like to change others to be like us, for many reasons both good and bad. So the Princes of each city must decide whether or not such people should come into this world. This keeps us from tearing apart the Masquerade with over breeding. However, it is the law that one must seek out a Prince's permission in order to Embrace a human. If one chooses to Embrace without the consent of authority, well..." she shook her head. "This is what happens."
I shivered. "But why does the fledgling have to die too? It's not her fault she's this way. She didn't have a choice in the matter." My voice was steadier now that I had voiced my grief filled opinions. Isabelle opened her mouth to speak again, but this time Stacey answered. "When potential Sire loves potential progeny very much (or something like that,) potential Sire may decide that his Final Death is a fine gift to his new Childe if it were let to un-live in a dark world. But without Sire there is only Caitiff, who like to wander around dodging cars and lifting dumpsters. In front of Kine. Therefore, Princelings must kill both so there is no temptation and so that our pretty porcelain masks stay un-cracked."
I began to see the point of this punishment. That didn't mean that I liked it though. I suppose that the Prince, however, didn't really have much of a choice in the matter either, and if he did he simply could not put it aside for a ghoul like me. But it didn't dull the pain and sadness I felt for the situation. Within this one week, I had lost my father, mother, and brother, and now I was about to lose my best friend. With a heavy heart, I dried my tears, thanked Isabelle and the Malkavian for their insight, and followed them out to take a seat in the audience.
_
Sebastian felt his blackberry vibrate in his pocket, and opened up the text that popped up. And nearly laughed out loud in relief.
It said:
You owe me and the Malkavian. We just convinced
your ghoul that it was perfectly OK that you kill her
best friend.
-Izzy
Now feeling much better about having to share a care ride home with the girl, Sebastian took a steadying breath and walked down the hall to the stage.
_
Lydia came to with the unpleasant sensation of something being removed from her chest. She was on her knees on a well lit stage. In the audience area sat a few dozen scattered people, though it was hard to see with the light shining directly into her strangely sensitive eyes. "Good evening." said a terribly familiar voice off to her right. She looked towards the source of the voice, and before she received a warning tug by her captor, the features of the blond speaker came into too sharp focus: Sebastian LaCroix. Normally Lydia's heart would be racing, but it seemed as though it, well, somehow wasn't even functioning. Great. But she'd have to figure it out later. Right now she had to figure out why the fuck the CEO of LaCroix Foundations was addressing a sketchy crowd of pale figures with a giant by his side.
The stage lights made her eyes hurt. Lydia squinted as she listened to the man speak. "My fellow Kindred. I apologize for interrupting any business or interfering with any prior engagements you may have had this evening. It is unfortunate that the event that gathers us here tonight is a troubling one. The laws that bind our society, the laws that are the fabric of our existence, have been broken." Lydia stared at Mr. LaCroix as he paced back and forth across the stage. What the hell was he talking about? What laws? Oh God, this better not be some sort of cult. Her eyes adjusted, Lydia stared into the crowd, curious to know who these witnesses were. They were a strange group made up of both sexes, a mix of rebels, refined business people, model-like beauties and, to her strange relief, creatures that looked not unlike herself or the man beside her. Who was he? What had he got her into? It struck an odd chord of regret in Lydia that she didn't even know his name.
LaCroix went on. "As Prince, I am within my rights to grant or deny the privilege of Siring. Many of you have come to me seeking my permission, and I have endorsed some of these requests." He returned across the stage and stopped off to the left of Lydia. "However, the accused that sits before you tonight did not receive my permission. Indeed, my permission was never sought at all. They were caught shortly after the Embrace of this Childe." A pale hand swept in her direction. A small, indignant and outraged thought ran through Lydia's mind, cutting through her fear and confusion: the man spoke as if Lydia had purposely been doing something wrong. But she hadn't 'done' anything; whatever the stranger had done to her was not her fault!
"While it, pains me, to announce the sentence, as up to tonight I considered the accused a loyal and upstanding member of our organization. But as some of you may know, the penalty for this transgression is death." LaCroix looked imploringly out into the crowd. "Know that I am no more a judicature than a servant to the law that governs us all. Let tonight's proceedings serve as a reminder that we must adhere to law that binds, lest we endanger all of our blood." With this last bit, LaCroix turned and knelt in front of that, that thing that had made her this way. Two words, a low whisper:
"Forgive me."
The CEO stood up. "Let the penalty commence"
Lydia watched in horror as the giant beside the stranger drew his massive sword, raised it up, and brought it down on the neck of the stranger. It all seemed to happen in slow motion: the sword sliding through the air, the skin of the neck pinching as the the blade met flesh, and the way that the head seemed to slide off the body and bounce, before (to her shock) body and head disappeared in a flurry of cinders. She felt as if she was about to be sick, and as she looked away, another familiar face jolted her back into reality.
Alice Kepler was sitting in the front row, looking almost as sick as she felt.
Lydia's first instinct was to call out. Maybe she could make sense of this. But common sense stayed her voice.
"Which leads to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny." LaCroix went on. He didn't even look back on the execution. "Without a Sire, most Childer wander the earth never knowing their place, their responsibilities, and more importantly, the rules they must obey. Therefore, I have decided that-"
"THIS IS BULLSHIT!"
A man stood up in the crowd. He was extremely buff, and not too bad of a looker, Lydia decided as he wriggled back in forth in the grip of whom she assumed were his friends. Other people began to stand, some looking angry, some looking bewildered, and some looking as if they were overeager to see what LaCroix would do next. Lydia was just as anxious to know. In the back, someone laughed uproariously. LaCroix looked down, as if in thought, before he spoke again. "If, Mr. Rodriguez would let me finish, I have decided to let this Kindred live." An exhalation of breath, sounding like terrible relief: Alice, looking like she just realized that a bomb was a dud when the timer ran out and there was no explosion. With terrible clarity, Lydia realized something: she almost died tonight, if not for that fateful instant. She tried to see more of her defender, but he had already turned and left with his small coterie of friends. LaCroix finished his speech.
"Let no one say that I am unsympathetic to plights of those in our community. I thank you all for attending these proceedings, and hope that their meaning is not lost. Good evening."
_
morgan145: Hello all! With the conclusion of this chapter, Lydia has survived the Trial and now we can more of less get on with the true-er story. Thank you SpecialAgentOrange for your insightful review once again, and a thank you goes out to Anime Fan Team for their simple but nice 'awesome work' comment. These reviews mean a lot it means that people are reading and paying attention to my story! And a final thank you goes out to all you silent readers, as always I hope that I can keep you all interested, though it would be nice to hear from you all!
UPDATE: just changed how Alice feels about the situation, from completely forgiving to "I understand it but I don't like it" sort of attitude. Honestly, did I really think Alice would let him off that easy?