Chapter 12:

Have I owned anything thus far?

Bishop's POV:

He knew he had something to prove; as he observed the fellow vampires who headed in the direction he took to return to France, Bishop knew that he had to destroy as many as possible before the next meeting, yet in a discreet manner, at the same time. It would be all well and good, destroying the vampires, just to then be destroyed himself – even the hint of suspicion would be enough to send him, a new vampire Elder, crashing down. He would be burnt immediately, without question, if Elders felt that he was involved in the murders of so many of their people. He would have to ensure that, as he travelled continental Europe, he kept his tracks covered at all times. There could be not one vampire who saw him that remained alive once he left that town; he would have to decimate the entire town's vampire population to make it seem less of a centred attack on the Elders, and more of a random attack. He would have to move fast and furiously, to make it seem as though it was more than one vampire who was attacking the cross section of Europe he would be striking; it could not seem as though it was merely one vampire who had a vengeance. To have survived as long as they had, the Elders must have been suspicious people, and if the newest member – who, coincidentally, happened to live in a similar region – seemed to be gaining from the demise of so many people older than himself, it would seem more than slightly suspicious.

Bishop curtly nodded in the direction of one of the vampires he would be targeting: someone not that much older than himself, in vampire terms of the word "old", and he seemed a relatively likeable fellow. That was, however, if Bishop didn't consider any other vampire – even those younger than himself – a threat to his mission to become the most powerful vampire in the world.

The world was a place which was limited in its size; Italy, more specifically Rome, happened to be the centre of everything within the Christian world, a faith which spanned the majority of the world Bishop recognised. It was a miracle in itself that the vampire congregation was focused around England and France, though Bishop considered it probably down to the extremeness of the purge on the supernatural in the area closest to the heart of the Catholic faith. The world was something smaller, harder to conquer, due to having to travel everywhere by foot, and through suspicious populations of humans, all of whom believed in the supernatural. Bishop had been trying for many years, to control at least part of the world which he knew, and he was proud to know he controlled a large section of France – but it wasn't enough. He wanted complete control…and he would settle for nothing less.

Within minutes, he had decided on the order by which he would pick the vampires off, starting the furthest south and working north, so he could be present, on the off chance that the Vampire Elder would stop by, if he happened to investigate the murders of so many of his congregation. He would have to work fast, "eating" on the way to save time, and he would have to travel through the day in order to destroy the vampires quicker, yet he was sure that one of the Elders – or one of the other vampires he would destroy – would have spare articles of thick clothing, in order to avoid the bright nature of the sun in the Mediterranean.

Everything was now in order. All he had to do was to return home, continue his routine until he was positive that he knew everything he had to do, and then put the careful planning into action.

It was with a sick relish that Bishop realised that he couldn't wait.

. [Eight weeks later].

To kill almost one hundred and fifty vampires, it took merely two weeks. Two weeks to end the lives of vampires who, if merely just by their age, ought to have been much stronger and more lithe than Bishop. Two weeks in which time Bishop, on his own two feet, ran across the majority of continental Europe, passing through towns and, every now and then, a city which seemed out of place in the relatively peaceful countryside. He ached for the fight in the hours when he was moving between sites of carnage, all his own physical wounds healed by the gluttons of blood he allowed himself from the location where so many vampires lay dead at a time, as would occur if a group of vampires had done what he had done alone.

He had done it.

He had destroyed almost one third of the vampires who resided in the countries lying south of England, destroyed them to the point that, if their place of residence was not known, their bodies would never be recognised as them. Only the personal relics that were deliberately left in order for the Elders to identify the bodies could show who each "person" was, their remains consisting of tatters of clothing and piles of ash.

Bishop knew that he had done his part; when they next met, it would be Amelie who was under pressure to perform – and maybe, if he happened to be lucky, she would have managed to destroy many of their opposition. She was the strongest female vampire in the world, of that Bishop was sure, even if he was not entirely certain that she knew this herself; he regarded her as stronger than the females who happened to be further up the rankings than herself – and yet this was nought to do with their blood relation. As far as Bishop was concerned, he had no daughter; they had, since her Mother's death, never shared a close relationship, something which was worsened when he turned her, an event preceding her departure of her home country for England, the enemy of France.

She had the power to reach to a position of power, he was sure of that – but he also thought she had a limit. As much as she hated him, she could never kill him, if only for the prosperity of his memory of her as a child, memories of her and her mother that only he retained. She could never let those memories that she would never know leave the world, even if she was never partial to them – they existed, and she could always speak about them with him. Bishop thought that she retained humanity, down to her idiotic friends' influence, something he would admit that he was slightly relieved about; there was a glint to his daughters' eyes that had him surprised as to just how far she had gone along the path he had desired her to take with him – and yet she had done it in a different manner, allowing her friendship and company along the way, forming relationships in a way to allow her two personalities: the ruthless nature he had instilled in her, along with the side of her that could love those who she was close to.

He was aware that his daughter was lethal – yet only if she had the right direction and support, something he was sure she was lacking, with her bumbling idiots of friends. Yet he would not interfere. Not until she begged him to assist her, not until she admitted, on her knees, that she should never have left him, would he help her.

He would simply observe and laugh.

Amelie's POV:

"No, you fool!" she hissed at Myrnin as he brought her a sheaf of paper which she quickly regarded. "I believe that we discussed, due to the delicate nature of the plan from now onwards, we would be discussing our plans verbally, or have you managed to forget an entire conversation we had merely yesterday?" her tone was acerbic as she spoke to him, each word cutting through the air like a knife.

Simultaneously, she scanned over each piece of paper, memorising the contents, before ripping them to shreds, despite Myrnin's calls of how much time and effort he had spent on them. Continuing to ignore her fellow, Amelie began to set fire to each and every piece, a laborious process, which involved her ensuring that she avoided setting alight her own, flammable skin, something she had managed to do through her entire vampire life thus far.

"I evidently have forgotten why you said not to write anything down, given I wasted valuable experiment time on something that is now redundant in the flames," Myrnin grumbled, his words flaring up Amelie's short temper once again. He thought, for the briefest moment, that she shone like the flame that had just been fed by the paper, before the comparison faded from his mind.

"We agreed yesterday that we would refrain from writing anything conspicuous to the plan down, in order to prevent there being incriminating evidence, if we happened to be investigated for the murders," Amelie snarled at her friend, emphasising certain words for him to realise just how grave the situation could have been, if they had left the evidence and they happened to be suspects in the deaths.

Myrnin merely stood there. "And Oliver is aware of this?"

"Yes, Myrnin; you both sat opposite me yesterday, discussing how much you despise one another, and yet managed to simultaneously agree that I was right and that we ought not to have written plans of what we shall do. My Father will not have anything like this, therefore we need not either." She was curt with the mention of the man she hated the most, determined to succeed further than his expectations of her kills, to have absolutely nothing he could have cause to chastise in regards to her end of the deal. If she had been smart, she would have begun to pick off the Elders as they arrived home, destroying them before they even reached home, for, to ensure it did not seem as though the Elders were being targeted, she would have to shed more blood – though this time entirely innocent. This time, she would have to initiate the killing of so many younger vampires, until a point came when her mind control became strong enough to control more than one vampire at a time, for eternity.

She needed to be stronger to ensure this occurred; she had tested the power she had had since her second birth upon the pair of her friends, both of whom knew about this – Oliver, it turned out, even had an ability to do something they defined as "glamouring", which happened to be a weaker version of her own power – whilst Myrnin merely gloated about his superior brain power. She had found that, as her position increased, so did the duration of time she could control the pair of them, and even to the point where she could control them both.

Once she had this power, she would no longer have to kill all those who were associated with the Elders – just…some. The others, those who appeared useful, would be grateful help in the setting up of the base she decided she must have, alongside protection duties. She wanted the battle to be the Eldest to end with her, after all, and if she had loyal guards, she was sure that they would protect her against anything.

Myrnin merely furrowed his brow before his eyes lit up with the memory of the event from the day before. "Ahh yes, that makes sense! Well…I shall be out in my laboratory, until you decide that you have formulated your plan enough for us to carry it out." he didn't sound particularly put out by this turn of events, but rather happier, for he had the chance to spend more time with his beloved alchemy.

Amelie, however, knew that she had something to prove – to Myrnin, to Oliver…and to her Father. Whilst she hated every connection she had to him, she knew that she had to prove herself to him, prove that she was strong enough to destroy her enemies – yet not strong enough to destroy him. Naturally, she was…but that was her secret weapon. To appear strong, yet weak enough not to be a threat to her Father's idea of what would occur was what she had to strive for – and this idea included an easy kill of her own.

It would have to be the one who would be the one who she could destroy herself, someone who would never be able to destroy her…and that was the issue. She did not know one who could be able to help her fulfil this stage – and she was running out of time. If she didn't act now, act to get herself a tad more power, she would be forced to merely rely on Oliver and Myrnin, as usual, something she preferred, yet also didn't. she preferred the lack of blood on her hands, the way that she had merely the death to complete whilst the men found their prey, yet she missed the hunt for her own pleasure.

She had been sadistic, in her first months as a vampire, someone who she tried to forget; she was rough and brutal, catching humans for food and destroying them slowly, causing them agony as she had been caused. She had wanted others to know how it felt, to be turned into a vampire, yet without actually turning them – she wanted them to know how it felt to be violated in ways that weren't wanted, the way that she had been turned into something she despised, all for her Father's master plan. This streak, the one she preferred to mask with her fierce temper and true personality – the one of sharp, yet witty humour, the one which could cope with Myrnin and Oliver, loving both passionately – was what would have to be released to get her the control of the entire vampire population. It was the thing she had managed to hide from everyone, and therefore would be more than a shock for Bishop, the man who considered her to be dangerous, she was sure, yet nowhere near as strong as she actually was.

"Yes, that is certainly acceptable," Amelie replied, her voice more distant than before, as she imagined a world which she controlled. The vampire world, touching the human one, yet distant at the same time; the world she could dictate, control to her beliefs. It was with a smile that she finished.

"You run along and play with your chemicals, Myrnin; I shall discover a way for us to win this war with the greatest success rate possible."

He stood in front of her for another minute, gulping as he didn't dare ask what she meant by the latter bit.

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Vicky.