A/N: This chapter was going to be the second half of Ch VI with the same name, but Jedi Skysinger said to break it up and divide it into two. As any good author listens to their editor, I obliged. This was my first time writing action shots, however, the reason for the late update is because they are the hardest for me. There is another reason why I didn't update recently was because I spent a whole month on a piece of artwork that needed to be done before March, so I spent January finishing it. I'm SO SO SO Sorry. (WAH!) I also added my adorable little boy, Oliver Tomaliver. (Squee) Well here it is: Chapter VII.
Chapter VII: The Tudor Knights
Come seeling night,
Scarf up the eye of pitiful day,
And with thy bloody and invisible hand
Cancel and tear to pieces that bond
Which keeps me pale! ...
Good things of day begin to drop and drowse,
Whiles night's black agents to their prays do rouse.
- William Shakespeare, Macbeth Act III, Scene II
"I hope you and the good Father will enjoy your stay here for the night," the hostess told her guests, holding a lit candelabra in one hand as she led them through the hallway of the second floor of the bed and breakfast.
"It is nice that we have a quiet place to stay," Ion smiled.
"Why, thank you, good sir," she returned the smile, then stopped at a mahogany door with a crystallized doorknob. "This is the place where you shall be staying for tonight, and, yes, the windows are tinted against the sun's ultraviolet rays. When I say my rooms are made for everyone, I mean everyone."
Ion's smile became much warmer. Even though in appearance Ruth was much older, the Count couldn't help but be reminded of the first Outer World Terran that befriended him, who was now the sovereign and liege over this woman. They both believed that his people, the Methuselah, and their people, the Terrans, were equal. If only more Outer World Terrans could be like them.
Ruth opened the door and suddenly a grey streak zoomed out from the room. Ion's heightened senses revealed that the streak was a living animal, but he then mistook it for entirely opposite species.
"Was that a rat?" Ion yelled.
Ruth smirked, "No, good sir, that was the 'little grey ghost,' my other cat."
"First, you have a cat the size of a lion cub, now you have a cat the size of a rat?"
"You're not the first one who had called him that. My husband mistook him for a rat as well. That was Oliver Grey Catt. You've already met Lord Flufferton Q. Kitty III."
"What's next?" Ion muttered to himself. "An alien in a cat suit?"
"That would have been Lady Margaret Thatchpaw, my sister's late cat," Ruth smiled.
"You and my lady grandmother would get along rather well," Ion bowed his head and put his hand over his eyes, shaking his head.
Father Nightroad wisely chose to stay of the exchange. After they left Ion in his room, the priest and the hostess continued without further comment to Abel's room. It was small, but well appointed and comfortable. Despite this, he found that he could not keep his eyes from turning to the view of Buckingham Palace outside his window.
"It's been so long since I'd been here," Abel whispered to himself.
"How long?" Ruth asked.
He still looked to the Albian Royal Palace when he made his reply; "Too long."
"I see. Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. Good night."
He didn't even acknowledge the woman as she closed the door, a sly smile on her face. There was only one woman on his mind at that point, the same one who had been on his mind the last two years and he was finally going to do something about it.
When the snow began to fall that night, the snowflakes resembled white diamonds against the velvet black of darkness. One stray snowflake landed in the open palm of a pale, small hand.
Ion Fortuna had finally after the course of two years laid his eyes upon the frozen beauty the Outer World Terrans called "snow." Living in the Empire within the Lapis Lazuli Prete - which shielded the Methuselah from the onslaught of the sun's ultraviolet rays- along with a climate controlled environment, he had never seen this cold wonder. But as soon as that thought entered into his mind, sorrow began to take its place. What he wanted to do more than anything was to show his lost Tovaråş, his brother, Radu, this lovely whiteness. However, that wish could never be. Radu was dead. Ion wanted to cry at that, but his pride held back the tears. No respectable Boyar of the Tzara Methuselute would cry in the presence of Outer World Terrans.
What Ion also wanted to do more than anything was to see Esther again. She was the first Terran of the Outer World he had befriended. She was the one to teach him that not all Terrans of the Outer World were fanatic barbarians. More importantly, she had told him that she was on his side when Radu had betrayed him. Afterwards, Ion realized that he loved Esther and he wished that she could return that love. However, he knew that her heart belonged to someone else and that someone was the priest whom he had been traveling with for over two years. Considering that she chose to go back to Rome with the Father instead of staying in the Empire with him.
Ion recalled when he had finally asked Esther if she wanted to stay in the Empire with him. He had tried asking her before, but Abel -who was originally a featherbrain beyond belief- had fallen into his grandmother's garden lake before the words could come out right. He finally found the chance to ask again after the assassination attempt against his Empress had been foiled.
She had found him staring out at the sea, his arms were wrapped around his knees as he looked at the filtered sunset. He had said he would become stronger and she had said "Ask me then." She was kind. Esther hadn't said, "no," or "never," or worse yet, giggled dismissively. That's one of the reasons he had found himself in love with her because of her kindness. But, it was both his love for her and her kindness that caused him to be more considerate of her and her feelings than of his. He knew she loved the priest and not him and even though he hoped that one day she might some day find feelings for him, he loved her enough to respect her choice. It was obvious that Abel felt the same way about her, but for whatever reason, neither of them seemed capable of acting on it. Whatever that bizarre woman -Sybil or Sybilla? ...whatever her name was- had said to him, it was enough to send the pair of them flying toward Albion. Perhaps if Abel truly loved Esther Blanchett as much as Ion thought he did, he would finally find his voice this time.
Approaching footsteps interrupted the Count's thoughts. Coming across his sharp view was a dark figure. He couldn't make out the face, due to the scarf covering his visage, but from the way the man was creeping around, the Methuselah could tell he was a Terran. The shadow was carrying what appeared to be strings of firecrackers. Suddenly, a burning smell came across his heightened senses. He recognized the scent immediately: C4 and Napalm. The Order of Rosenkreuz had used those very substances in an attempt to kill, not only his grandmother... but also his liege, Augusta Vradica! This man... was he an Order member or a member of those Knights? If so, then he should kill him! Suddenly, the man turned, almost as if he was hearing his thoughts, and ran with a speed that could match a cheetah... but not a Methuselah!
Ion jumped over the balcony and landed gracefully on the cement. Suddenly, another thought entered into his mind. If he killed a Terran here, without full proof, it could mean a war.
Maybe... he thought, maybe it might be better if I follow him, and if he's one of them... He's mine.
The Count of Memphis kept his distance as he followed the figure around the alleyways behind the inn. The man was clearly looking for something, but Ion was not sure what just yet. The shadow turned the corner out of his sight, but when the young Methuselah came around, he was gone. Ion puzzled momentarily, then shot to the other side of the building. Not in the adjacent alley either? He paced back toward the rear of the inn, layer upon layer of renovation and upgrades upon the original stone. There! A disturbance at the base of the wall that was fresh. Placing his long, thin fingers on the ancient stones, Ion pressed here and there, looking for a mechanism or a trigger to open the passage his quarry had obviously vanished into.
The wall gave and then split in two halves as a dark passageway opened under Ion's palm, revealing where the shadow vanished. The Count took a quick sniff to make certain he caught his quarry's scent before he descended into the Underground.
Laid out before him seemed to be endless stairs made of black steel. Next to them was sign, sprayed on the wall in red paint was a Latin phrase describing the descent into the Hell as being easy (1). He didn't really care where he was at the moment. All that was on his mind was the human scent that was leading him into these dark depths.
"These stairs seem to gone on, and on, and on... forever." he thought. That was until Ion found a light at the end of the stairway. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, the area divided into tunnels. There were seemingly endless rows of lights down each of the tunnels; however, only one tunnel was lit, indicating that his prey had gone that direction. The walls were covered in cables, metal and other items of lost technologies. The Count could only guess that these tunnels were the underground Ghettos that Ruth had told him about. Ion picked up the scent again as he journeyed down the lit tunnel which led him to an elevator, or what had been an elevator. It was wrecked. The doors seemed to have been blasted open by some unknown force and the compartment had a human-sized hole in the ceiling.
"What's this? How could someone... Get back on task and find that Terran before he kills someone," Ion then whispered to himself.
Where the young Methuselah picked up the scent again it led him to a blank wall. He felt around here and there until he found a rectangular palm identification scanner and the doors slid open. There before him were black steel bars along the side of the wall. Ion scurried up them like a squirrel climbing up a tree until he nearly hit his head on a manhole cover. With his superior strength, the Methuselah boy gripped at the metal as if it were paper and threw it off.
When he emerged, Ion found himself gazing out at the gates of the most grandiose building in Albian history: the Houses of Parliament, the central government of Albion. Parliament was a means of balancing the power of the monarchy, the oligarchy and the democracy of the Nation. The only time the rule of Parliament was ever threatened was by the infamous King Charles I, who tired to become the absolute ruler of Albion, before he could accomplish that, he lost his head for making the effort.
Before the gates was the shadow the Earl had been following, greeting him were two other men adorned in trench coats with scarves covering their noses to their necks. Each of the men bore a pin with an emblem of a sword slicing through a red and white rose and the Albian Crown. The shadow gave them the C4 and the napalm packs.
"Hurry up! We don't have much time! Load these with the rest," the shadow ordered them.
The two obeyed and disappeared into the darkened building. From the depths came forth another man who reminded Ion of Lord Baibars, chief of the Imperial Guard. They both had a strikingly similar build; however, the man who had emerged from the shadows was a head or two shorter than the black giant and the man's sickly pale skin was slightly wrinkled. His grey eyes were as cold as the frost that surrounded them and small wisps of gray hair clung to the sides of his mostly bald head. He too, bore the same crest as the mysterious shadow before him.
"Mr. Creedy," the shadow greeted the man and bowed his head.
"I'm quite surprised you managed to get by Mary Spencer and those bloody vampires. Well done, Mr. Stone."
The shadow continued to bow his head. Mr. Creedy continued, "You have also gained the trust of that traitorous witch. Very well done, indeed. This will allow us to deliver the very supplies necessary to end her right to her doorstep."
"'Tis safer to be that which we destroy/ Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy (2), Lord Chief of Justice," The cloaked figure said as he took off his makeshift cowl and revealed himself to be the Earl of Leicester Lewis Stone, a Royal Privy Councilor. Instead of the formal blue suit, his attire consisted of a buttoned up black trench coat and thick cotton pants with black leather shoes. Adorning his coat was medallion bearing the bloodied crest, revealing his true position to the shadows, a traitor to the Albian Royal House.
"Save your Shakespeare another time, Mr. Stone. We have a country to save," another man replied from the darkness of the night that surrounded him. The man seemed to detach from the very shadows themselves. He was garbed from head to toe in black leather and Yorkshire wool. Like his companions, his skin was a pale, sallow color and bore a more ornate crest that held a knight's armored head. The Methuselah boy mused briefly that these men seemed to spent less time in the sunlight than the Methuselah themselves. Of course, such treasonous dogs, he reasoned, would not be doing such work as theirs in the light of day.
Apart from having the same unhealthy skin color, this new man and Mr. Creedy looked nothing alike. Not only was he a head shorter than Creedy, but the newcomer had a untidy shock of auburn hair and an equally disorderly reddish-brown goatee to match. His brown eyes were sharp and appeared to miss nothing. They were by far the liveliest feature in his decidedly wizened face.
"Her Majesty has gone too far, letting those god forsaken leeches walk alongside us when in truth we are the superior race. It is we who are the true humans. I personally believe they should be allowed to continue to live, albeit in their dark and dank Ghetto that seems to be more fitting for them. That witch goes on about how those blood sucking monsters are equal to us and are 'human,'" he spat out the word, "just like us, when in truth they are nothing more than mere parasites that will eventually turn on us when we show weakness."
"Well said, Lord Chancellor."
The three other men who had disappeared into Parliament had come out again to join with the darkness of the Night. All three of them were now unmasked, revealing more pale faces: a youthful man with cleanly cut blonde hair and sickly green eyes, the other two with cropped dark hair. The only difference between the two was that one had a much heavier face and closely cropped black hair, the other thinner with disorderly brown hair.
"Thank you, Mr. Dascomb," Adam Sutler, the Lord High Chancellor of Albion, Speaker for the House of Lords in Parliament addressed the youth. "I personally think that she has our country under a spell and everyone is flocking to her as if she were Queen Elizabeth herself. But I see through her lies. Elizabeth I would never have tolerated the Catholic Church inhabiting these lands and, if there had been vampires in that era, she would've burned them all. If we remove that witch, her spell will be broken and then the people will realize that the vampires should return to their Ghetto and those religious fanatics should be removed for good."
"And if the vampires or the fanatics refuse, Lord Chancellor?"
"Wipe them out... all of them," Sutler leered.
The roar of a beast in rage filled the night air.
Earlier
How long had he been staring at her?
A minute? An hour? Or perhaps eternity?
After leaving the bed and breakfast, his feet, of their own volition, began to walk toward the Palace the moment his eyes fell upon the ancient structure.
How many guards did he pass by before he reached his destination? How many walls that barred him from her did he just simply stride over as if they were merely matchboxes? How many vines did he pull upon in order to reach her balcony?
He didn't care, all that existed for him now was the star who bound him to this world.
He dared not enter her chambers for, as a man marked as he was with his sins, he didn't deserve to be graced by the light she wielded. The only thing baring him from her now was the wall of glass that separated her from the Night and the cold. A place where he thought he belonged to continue the fight that bound him for eternity.
As he looked upon her, he saw that she was still the same, while at the same time, slightly different. Oh, how she has grown up since the last time he saw her. Her vibrant strands of scarlet were still cropped short, but her bangs no longer hung down at her chin line but fell in beautiful waves past her shoulders. Her cheeks were slightly thinner, devoid now of her teenage curves. Her skin was still the creamy, supple tone that he so fondly remembered. If only he could look upon the beautiful lapis lazuli orbs that were her eyes.
He watched her as she slept, watched the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took, heard the soft sound of her breath with his sensitive ears. It was the only thing he allowed himself.
He longed to smell the scent of her breath and her hair, to feel the softness of her skin and taste the sweet flavor of her lips.
He was at war with himself. Again. How many times in the last two years had he wanted to come here. To see her, to reveal to her that he was still alive. But every time he had talked himself out of it. Reasoned that she was better off without him. Told himself that he was selfish to want to impose himself on her life. If he was honest with himself, he was afraid. Afraid that after all this time had passed that she would have moved on, that she had gotten over him and been able to live a life free of the dangers of associating with him, free of the danger of him...
It all seemed a waste now. He had longed to see her and kept away to keep her safe and now, according to this mysterious Sybil, it had all been in vain.
She then turned over to her side, as if she knew he was there. Her lips suddenly shaping and speaking a sound that pulled at his heartstrings.
"Abel." she whispered, restlessly. "Come back... don't go... please."
All he could do was stand there, frozen. Did she dream about him? Does she... does she... does she feel the same way about him? If so... what should he do?
He looked up, trying to clear his head, suddenly he began to notice that white lace and diamonds danced across the blackness of the night.
How ironic that a cold creature such as him should be the one to witness the first snowfall of winter, when he had returned to the one who brought him warmth.
How can you leave her now? The wind asked him, the voice reminding him of his fallen beloved.
Abel closed his eyes. He could see her before him now. Her hair the exact vibrant stands of scarlet like Esther's, her coffee-cream, exotic skin, her golden eyes shining back at him like rays of the morning sun.
"She... doesn't deserve me... I am... a monster…" he whispered
"You are not a monster, if you were, you wouldn't have repented and would still be walking on that path of destruction."
"But... I let him kill you…"
"Dilly-dally, shilly-shally, isn't it time you did the forgiving, Abel? I never blamed you, not once. You've changed that's all that matters."
"How can I take a chance on letting him kill her?"
"How can you take a chance on never telling her how you feel when you know how she feels?"
"How can she feel that way? She's a Terran. Their lives are but a moment, a blink of an eye…"
"All the more reason not to waste another moment. She has so few…"
Abel's eyes opened at that. Idiot, he cursed himself, so few moments with her and yet here he was, mooning outside her window like the lovesick vampire in that ancient Pre-Armageddon novel that Seth adored. So much for his self-righteous comments to her about the character's self-imposed suffering and stupidity regarding how that character had dealt with his lot in life and his love for a human. Had he, featherbrain that he was, not done the same? No, worse! He had stayed away from Esther for two whole years, letting her think him dead the entire time, because he thought himself unworthy of her, trying to keep Esther free from danger when the only way to protect was to be with her...
"DAMN YOU!"
Abel then caught the smell of fresh blood, human blood. "How dare you threaten Queen Esther! Unforgivable, we absolutely won't forgive you! All of you!" a voice echoed in the night, a voice that only Abel's supersensitive hearing would be able to pick out. For the briefest of seconds, Abel was caught between his mental musing and that voice until it penetrated his brain the voice was that of his companion. It took another millisecond to register what Ion had said.
"Nanomachines: Crusnik 02. Power output to 40%. Activate!"
And only a few black feathers, drifting lazily in the wind outside her window, acknowledged that he had been there at all.
Ion shot out of the shadows. His rage at Sutler's belittlement of his people had been indeed blood-boiling, but further he could not let this man who was going to kill his closest friend draw one more poisonous breath. "DAMN YOU!"
The Lord Chancellor heard the cry of rage, but didn't see his collaborator in the crime collapse until it was too late. A blade of titanium shot through the shoulder blade of the one named Mr. Dascomb, fresh blood poured from the open wound like a fountain. From behind his fallen companion appeared a shadow in a white cloak and in its hand was a short scimitar stained with crimson streams. From under the hood, he could see the demonic rage in the young boy's coppery eyes, his upturned lips sprouting elongated fangs.
One word entered into his head immediately: "Vampire!"
The boy brandished his sword at the Lord Chancellor and raged: "How dare you threaten Queen Esther! Unforgivable, we absolutely won't forgive you! All of you!"
The Methuselah youth seemingly vanished, then appeared once more, this time above Sutler. His sword was raised to strike the blow that would bring the swift wings of death to his opponent. However, death didn't claim Sutler and the sound of screaming metal filled the night.
Mr. Creedy stood in front of Sutler, his most preferred weapon, the Velvet Nightmare, outstretched before him, grinding into the scimitar that the vampire wielded.
The Velvet Nightmare was a Craft of Albion Works, a pride of their creation. It was a based off of the Roman M13 Jericho automatic handgun and held a clip of 516 maxima rounds. Along the edge of the muzzle was a silver-titanium blade, which could be wielded like a sword in hand-to-hand combat. Only a certain few could handle a weapon as grand as this, for not only did one have to master marksmanship, but also swordsmanship in order to tame this metallic monster. Mr. Creedy had been anxious to use this beast against a vampire to see how long those humanoids would last against it. Fortune seemed to have smiled upon him for it had brought him the necessary combatant to use it on.
Ion jumped back and flipped in the air simultaneously, so fast that the human eye couldn't catch his movements. One moment he was in mid-air his sword against the Velvet Nightmare, next he was crouched on the ground, like a cat landing gracefully on all fours after falling from a great height.
Ion growled at his armed opponent and the Lord Chancellor. He quickly inspected his sword, for the last time he performed such as move his blade had been cut in half. Fortunately, he wasn't against the Chief of the Yeniçeri, Lord Baibars, nor against his seven bladed sword "He Who Breaks Spinal Cords," and the scimitar was intact. Ion would have killed the both of them, but then the teachings of his liege, Augusta Vradica, reminded him that killing these men would meant a conflict with the Kingdom of Albion and the Empire.
Lewis Stone and two others, Mr. Ethridge and Mr. Heyer, nearly drew their own weapons, but Mr. Creedy raised one black gloved hand.
"Don't interfere. If any of you try to get in my way, I'll kill you, too. This vampire is mine. I want to see how fast the Velvet Nightmare can cut down this little monster," Creedy sneered.
"Cut us down?" Ion shrieked. Raising his sword, he declared hotly, "We are the Count of Memphis! You speak falsely, brute!"
Before Creedy's eyes, the boy reappeared in a flash only fifteen feet away, grasping his naked sword, still stained with the blood of a human. At the same time, Mr. Creedy swung down his weapon causing a peculiar sound.
Had the Lord Chief of Justice, the most hardened man in all of Albion, misjudged the distance of his enemy? No it couldn't be so, but the weapon hit the ground and completely missed the Methuselah nobleman, who waited, with unwavering steadiness, for the peculiar weapon to pass by him before thrusting his blade at his attacker. A second later, it was Ion who was propelled in the opposite direction by the odd armament. His entire body was forced backwards by a force he never saw coming. Had Ion not been a Methuselah, he would've fallen and cracked open his skull. Thankfully his abilities allowed him to flex his body and land without a scratch.
A shot fired the moment Ion had landed on the concrete and then two more.
He looked down and saw three holes in his cloak and black attire. A reddish-black substance was seeping from the holes. Mr. Creedy had shot him with sliver bullets. Suddenly, Ion felt as if his body was caught in an inferno. He fell back, writhing in pain.
Mr. Creedy cracked a smirk at the scene. Not only was his Velvet Nightmare a wondrous weapon against vampires, but how that vampire, a being of superior strength and speed, had crumbled at the hands of a pseudo-human delighted him. He watched in complete amusement as the vampire withered in the searing pain and waited until it had passed out from silver poisoning.
"Disgusting leech, that'll show them who's the superior race. After all, they are nothing more than transient guests(3); they will die out eventually." He then addressed his entourage. "Well, what are you waiting for? Bind him and search him!"
Altogether the Knights pulled out silver shackles and chains and came upon the unfortunate Methuselah like the tide descending.
"Thank you Mr. Creedy. You have apprehended the assassin who has taken the life of Her Majesty. We were too late to save her, but we will put her murderer to justice," Adam Sutler said quietly to his comrade with a tone akin to admiration for the man had just saved his life from a baleful death at the hands of a vampire.
"This is twice now I had saved your life. My debt to you has been overpaid now," Creedy whispered, anxious should the others not hear this.
"I knew there was a reason to keep you alive after I found you on the streets. After this, you will be handsomely rewarded, for your powers can bring even a vampire to its knees."
"Just be certain my abilities aren't found out by the others. I don't want the Knights to be given a poorer image, not with a 'warlock' in the midst of pure-bread humans."
"Well lookie, 'ere!" Mr. Heyer cried out in pleasure.
"What is it?" Sutler asked.
"It's a blooming Empire insignia!" He pointed to Ion's shoulder and sure enough, the crest of the Empire, a sapphire crescent moon, with a smaller ruby full moon on the inside, surrounded by four jade spires, symbolizing the four towers of the Celestial Imperial Palace, the Yuldluz Saray, adorned the black cotton.
"Th' imperial ensign, which full high advanc'd... shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind.(4)" Stone whispered to himself.
The reason the moon was the symbol of the Tzara Methuselute was because their belief that the Sun had hated them so much that the Moon had in turn took them under her silvery wings and protected them as her children. The Empress herself was like the Moon, for she loved the Methuselah and had taken them from the lands of those who could walk under the sun into the lands that would become the Empire. Because of the similarities between the Empress and the Moon, the Methuselah had taken its crescent from for their symbol, of not only their Empire, but also their Jade Empress. The red moon was said to have been the Methuselah's first home before they had come to this world, though their memories of living on that moon have been long forgotten. Little did the Methuselah know that in Pre-Armageddon history another people, known then as the Turks, had lived in their Empire and used that very symbol in their religion, and they too, were hunted by the Vatican for paganism.
"Not only do we catch a leech, 'e's a' Imperial leech. Bloomin' perfect! So much for t'eir Empress' desires to mike peace wit' us!"
"I had a suspicion he was one of those kind of vampires. What was it that he called himself...?" Mr. Creedy asked, trailing off.
"The Count of Memphis," Mr. Ethridge finished for him. "Memphis is a city of the Empire that just so happens to fall under the nobles of Fortuna, an influential noble house that rules over the Moldova territory. If this who I think it is... then he must be not only the grandson of the Duchess of Moldova, the Prime Minister of the Empire, but also the First Imperial Envoy to the Vatican."
This was indeed a horrifying scenario for those who desired peace with the Empire. If a Methuselah noble of the Empire, not just any noble, the first Imperial Envoy, had killed the Queen of Albion, not only would the Empire be held responsible for her death, but their peace treaty with the Vatican and Albion would be in flames. Worse yet the great war, which had been waiting to deliver judgment unto the world once more, would come to pass.
"Excellent!" Sutler clapped his hands together and his eyes were bright with a thirst for power, almost resembling the look of a vampire in bloodlust. "Alright, men, finish setting the stage of Her Majesty's demise and once we're done here, bring the leech with us!"
"To lust for power and to seize it... that is a vampire's true nature," a voice, whispered and it didn't belong to any of the Knights.
A shot fired.
It took a moment for Sutler to realize that the bullet had just barely grazed across his brow. He put his hand to his temple and sure enough, a small trickle of blood stained his worn hands.
"WHAT? Who dares-"
A figure began to form from under the flurries of snow, his black robes and bound silver hair caught in the breeze. From under the streetlight, a golden gunmetal crucifix was visible on his tall frame and his blood-tinted eyes, which glared so fiercely back at the human traitors from under silver-rimmed glass, could have burned the frost that surrounded them. His right arm was extended and he held in his clutch a smoking M651 Craft of Albion Works revolver.
"I dare," he said as he pushed the spectacles back over the bridge of his nose with is middle finger.
Sutler made a sound of disgust. "Not only do we have vampires arriving to this party, apparently the Vatican has decided to come in uninvited. Who in the bloody hell do you think you are, ordering us around like that, hmm?"
"I am an AX enforcement officer for the Vatican's Ministry of Holy Affairs, Father Abel Nightroad."
The name alone brought out something the Lord Chancellor had only truly felt twice before: fear. Father Abel Nightroad was a priest who had once served in the Vixen of Milan's secret service agency; however, from what Sutler knew of him, he was supposedly rotting away in a cemetery outside of Londinium. Nightroad was said to have been killed by the Contra Mundi, the Enemy of the World himself. If all of that was true, then why is this man currently standing before him?
"WHAT? You can't be-? They said you were DEAD! How are you-?" Sutler stammered.
"Et vivus et fui mortuus et ecce sum vivens in saecula saeculorum, (5) Amen. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, I arrest you and your associates for the crimes of terrorism, sedition and attempted assassination against Queen Esther," he finished through clenched teeth. His voice, like ice, was raised over the howling wind. "For the sakes of your men and for myself, I urge you to let the Methuselah go and surrender immead-"
"ENOUGH!" Sutler threw up his hands in a huff and rounded on Creedy. "This is why I hate these Vatican dogs! They talk too much!"
Mr. Creedy smiled at the Lord Chancellor and then at his opponent. "This will be interesting, dueling a man such as yourself, or should I be saying, a corpse such as yourself? I've heard rumors about you, Nightroad, and now I will test them out for myself."
"I don't wish to do this, but apparently you will leave me with no other choice."
"Then you leave us with no other choice!" Mr. Ethridge screamed.
A flash burst and the area was painted in smoke. Even with his heightened senses, the priest had a hard time seeing through this. A shot fired and Abel felt a horrible sting in in left shoulder.
The shadow of the Chief of Justice appeared, his blade aiming for the priest's head. The average human would have been dead before they realized it; however, before the blade met its target, Abel's fingers closed around the armament in a firm vice.
The priest threw the Velvet Nightmare and Creedy to the side, like he was nothing more than moth being pushed aside by the breeze. Creedy had a hard time catching himself and nearly hit the wall. When the Chief of Justice looked up he saw the bullet seep out of the hole in the Vatican dog's cassock and fell to the ground. Flesh then formed over the hole leaving no trace of blood.
"What the-? How did you-?" Creedy gasped.
"You're a warlock, aren't you?" A raspy voice asked the Chief of Justice. "You can reach speeds others cannot attain, and your strength is beyond that of the average humans, due to genetic manipulation. How did such 'pure humans' dare to take in a man such as yourself?"
Creedy set a hard leer. "Sutler is a great man. He cannot stand to vampires. We agree that they are the strongest and filthiest beings to ever walk this Earth. They have no right to exist here, and deep down in their hearts, they know it, too. Because this world exists by the belief of 'survival of the fittest,' and 'might makes right,' they believe that they can wipe us out. But before they do, we must destroy them all, before they destroy us. I learned that lesson well in the Londinium streets. When Sutler was about to meet his death by unnatural means at the hands of a vampire. I would not stand by as this unrightful leech took the life of a powerful man. I saved him, and in return, I am granted power. As I kill those leeches in the name of the Tudor Rose, which I am happy to do, I keep my position in the Albian Court."
"So you go by the excuse of a beaten dog?" The voice wasn't the rasp, the Chief of Justice heard earlier.
"'Beaten dog?'" Creedy's eyes picked up as he asked in mockery. "Priest, you dared to call the Chief of Justice, I, Lord Seeley Creedy, a beaten dog?"
"Yes, Chief of Justice- you're a pathetic beaten dog, I knew some such as you in the Inquisitorial Department," Abel insisted. "I too, am no exception. I viewed the world with despair and mocked the ideals of those I loved. Actually, I hated them-but when I think about it now, I was a beaten dog who was afraid of fighting reality. I was a pathetic beaten dog who mocked everything. I was exactly like you are now." Abel looked as though he were not here, in a time far from now. His voice was filled with deep regret and sorrow, while at the same time yearning for beloved memories.
Abel was about to speak again, but Creedy cut him off. "Nice sermon, save it for mass. Do you not know your own situation?" The Chief of Justice laughed lightly but held his weapon in an iron grip and swung the blade ferociously.
Abel did his best to dodge him as Creedy disappeared and reappeared, attempting to slice his limbs off. The blade made contact with the flesh of his shoulder, then his right arm which forced Abel to drop his revolver, then his side and his left leg.
"Nice to tell me that I'm a beaten dog, when you're beaten yourself," Creedy sneered as Abel collapsed from the pain. "Now hold still for a few minutes while I impale your heart, the way your Inquisitors kill their prey. How ironic that you should die like a leech." He raised his gun-sword, ready to dive it deep into the priest's chest.
"I am not worthy to be killed…" The priest whispered.
Creedy stopped his weapon, and asked, "What makes you say so?"
"I died once. I have no intention on doing so again." Abel then chanted the spell that brought the horrid monsters that plagued his soul into hyper-action: "Nanomachines: Crusnik 02. Power output to 40% Activate!"
Creedy, for the first time, felt the rush of fear at the creature before him.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?"
A pale being stood before him, the wounds that he had inflicted vanished like they were never there. Each strand of silver hair took a life of its own and rose up, forming a diadem upon the creature's brow. His blackish-blue lips revealed a set of fangs, sharper than a vampire's. Staring back at the Chief of Justice were blood shaded eyes.
"So the rumors I heard were true. The Vixen of Milan did keep a monster to combat vampires. So much for the Vatican's 'pious purity,' they are more hypocritical than I thought," Creedy huffed.
Abel glared at the warlock and replied with a metalic voice, "The Vatican is made up of humans, just like us, Lord Chief of Justice. So too are the 'leeches' you hunt. But you not only hunt vampires, you hunt innocent civilians as well. You take delight in killing, don't you?"
"Those lives were a means to an end. If we are to achieve purity, then all those who question it as well as the leeches must die!" Creedy unloaded his weapon at the vampire-like monster; however, the bullets never reached their target.
Black wings outstretched from the priest's back, shielding him from the onslaught of the Velvet Nightmare. "I didn't want to kill you, but you leave me no choice."
"W-What?" Creedy questioned as backed up to the wall, like an animal cowering at the sight of a predator. He dropped the Velvet Nightmare, realizing, albeit too late, that it was useless against this powerful being. As he had stated, the strong live as they leave the weak in the dust and he now was going to die by something stronger than a vampire or himself, though in that moment he failed to appreciate the irony.
"You have threatened someone dear to me, someone who binds me to this world. If I lose her, I lose my reason to exist," Abel tried to cling onto his sanity, but it slowly began to slip through his fingers as anger excited the nanomachines rushing through his blood.
"Now we shall rid that threat forever, with our own hands, if we must," the Crusnik declared. In its clutches appeared a blood-red, distorted scythe and he raised it.
A whipping winter wind brought Seeley Creedy to his demise.
"Culpa perennis erit oratio nomine. In pace requiescat.(6)" was the Lord Chief of Justice's sole epitaph.(7)
Daylight then began to shine an unusual blood-red hue. Abel looked upon the bloodied sight. Creedy's body lay on the ground in a particularly odd fashion. One could not mistaken him for sleeping even excluding the bloody hole in his chest and the startled look on his dead face and the astonishment in his sightless eyes. The Lord Chief of Justice did not have to die, especially by his own blood-stained hands, even though Creedy had given himself over to evil. The smoke had cleared while Abel had been battling his opponent, seemingly taking with it all the other combatants and their lone hostage. Before the priest could give a thought to where they had gone, the clock tower above him began to chime the beginning of November the Fifth, shaking him from his reverie.
Father Nightroad looked upon the sunrise and realized he had no time to waste as the clock tower made its final stroke of its bells. First, he had to remove Creedy's body before authorities arrived. Second, he had to warn Esther of the trap that awaited her once she stepped upon the threshold of Parliament. Third, he had to save Ion with Esther's help from those monstrous humans. With Creedy's body hidden in a nearby dustbin, Abel Nightroad then set out to reunite himself with his beloved star after two long years of denying himself of her light.
"I cannot fail Esther as I failed her…" he promised himself.
Esther reluctantly awoke as a sudden chill came over her due to last night's snowfall. She had had the most bittersweet dream, unlike the nightmares that plagued her, for she had dreamed this same dream continuously every night over the course of two years.
It began with Abel, as the Dark Angel of Destruction slain at the hands of the White Angel of Death as she watched helplessly. She would see him revert back to his human form and whisper her name with his dying breath. However, it was only the beginning. From there it led her back to the Church where she mourned Abel, and he would come, calling her name in way that made her blood freeze.
"What are you doing here? Can't you leave Father Nightroad in peace?"
"Oh, not just yet," the white demon would smile, "Abel and I are soon to become one. After all, we two were originally one being. We shared the exact same genetic code. And now we shall become one once again, together for all eternity."
She wanted to protest, but her voice was caught in her throat, as fear sapped her courage each second she was with him.
"Joined we both benefit. I get a complete body, and Abel enjoys an existence free without suffering or distress. By becoming one, he can finally be able sleep peacefully within me forever."
She finally asked in a tremulous voice, "I don't understand. What are you?"
His dark smile became wider, "I am a Crusnik, my dear. A being who is in need of nothing, while at the same time, a being who is in need of everything."
As he looked upon her, she could almost see the suppressed lust in the icy abyss that were his eyes.
He would then reach out to her.
That normally would be when the screaming began, leaving Esther bathed in a cold sweat.
However, last night's dream had been completely different.
She was alone and cold in darkness. She tried calling out to the one her heart desired, held by a sheer hope that he would come back to her, but he never came. Just when empty despair filled her, when she began to lose all hope, she heard a voice calling her back. It was his voice, Abel's voice. She called out even louder and he appeared. He wasn't in Crusnik form, like in her nightmare, but in his normal black cassock and rosary, his winter-lake like eyes obstructed by silver rimmed glass and his silver hair pulled back by a black ribbon. She looked into his eyes and saw longing and sorrow.
He was about to fade back into the darkness, but she reached out and grasped his hand.
"Abel," she whispered breathlessly. "Come back... don't go... please."
They stood together holding hands for a few moments. She then looked up to him and a small tear of blood escaped the corner of his right eye, which turned a darker shade of red.
"I am so sorry, Esther. Forgive me, I never meant to hurt you," His voice came out in a rasp, like a man drowning in repentance.
The Albian Queen sighed, then put her hand to her forehead. Instead of bringing her sorrow, the dream gave her hope that Abel was alive and he didn't blame her for his death. She also hoped that wherever he was, God was protecting him.
She then rose from her bed and draped her robe over her ivory silk nightgown. A very old fashioned garment with white lace on the collar, sleeves and hem and therefore not very warm. Out of habit, she walked over to her balcony window that was slightly covered in frost and gasped in surprise at what lay before her beyond the glass.
I wanted to properly apologize for my unseeming behavior from last night.
After all that was not only my best friend that I spat at, but my liege and sovereign. I should have been put to death for what I have done, but Her Majesty is indeed the most merciful person that I had ever known. Ten times more merciful than the bloody Wolf I had to live with for almost the majority of my life.
I could slightly understand why Her Majesty loved that priest, especially after he willingly sacrificed his own life to save hers when she still lived in Hungaria. But that doesn't change the fact that he hurt her, worse than the Contra Mundi could have ever done. He was alive all this time while letting Her Majesty think him dead! Why didn't he come back to her if he loved her at all?
I finally made it to Her Majesty's chamber door, carefully trying to balance the tray that held her morning breakfast of a gourmet eggy in the basket as well as a Herend Chinoiserie (8) tea set that held a full bodied Assam tea.(9) I made a quick rap at Her Majesty's door, but no answer.
I made another rap and called out, "Pardon me, Lady Esther." Again, no answer.
I called out louder. "Lady Esther!" Oh great... she was mad at me. Well, I definitely deserved it.
I was about to leave and then her heard her call, telling me to come in.
I did as I was bidden and she was standing, with her back to me, staring out at the frozen glass doors.
I placed the tray on the nearby desk and bowed my head and placed my hand over my heart. "Your Majesty, Lady Esther," I addressed her.
"There is no need for you to be so formal, Sarah." I flinched slightly, but not from fear. Her voice wasn't angry, thank God, because when she was mad, oh boy, Hell hath no fury like that of the Albian Queen pissed off, but it was... different. Lighter and much... happier?
"Please, just for this moment, Your Majesty," I knelt on the ground, my head bowed, my face downcast. I could tell she had turned to face me, but I still couldn't see her expression. I didn't want to look upon her just yet. "I wish to apologize for my unseeming behavior last night. If you wish to kill me, banish me, or remove me from your service, I deserve as much. Forgive me for my attitude and for my disrespectful comments."
I waited for her to call the death sentence, or to say that I was banished, or possibly that I was no longer her handmaiden; however, she did no such thing. I felt her hand touch my head then moved to touch my shoulder. I dared to look up.
She was smiling. Not one of sorrow or emptiness, but a real smile, one that lit up her lapis lazuli eyes, for the first time after two long years.
"It's all right, Sarah. God tells us to forgive and I accept your apology and, no, you are not to be killed, banished or removed from my service. After all, if I do so, I will lose a valuable friend." She giggled.
Instead of expressing my gratitude, I then -stupidly!- asked, "Who are you and what have you done with Her Majesty?"
She didn't take any offense at this, instead she laughed. Laughed! A laugh that was like a ringing silver bell, filled with happiness. "Relax, Sarah, I am myself."
I was so freaked out that I didn't immediately register that she was clutching a midnight black feather in her hand.
Next Chapter: Death on the Thames.
Avert not, thine eyes.
(1) Indirect quote to The Aneid by Virgil. The phrase in Latin is Facilis descensus Averni - The descent into Hell is easy.
(2) Quoted from Macbeth in Act III, Scene II by William Shakespeare
(3) Indirect quote from the novel series Vampire Hunter D, Volume Iby Hideyuki Kikuchi: "Transient guests are we." The original quote was supposedly made by the Nobility's Sacred Ancestor, Dracula, who stated that those who built the vampire super-civilization were so.
(4) Quoted from John Milton's Paradise Lost.
(5) Quoted from the Latin Vulgate Book of Revelation 1:18, the translation from the KJV is: "I am he that liveth, and was dead; and behold, I am alive forever more, Amen."
(6) This phrase is used by the Catholic Church in funerals for the dead. The Latin translation is: "Sin is eternal, so I must pray for the dead." The second half of this phrase was quoted from the short story "The Cask of Amontillado," by Edgar Allen Poe, the translation is -obviously- "Rest in peace."
(7) Indirect quote to Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera. (The book inspired the musical by Andrew Lloyd Weber and then the musical inspired the movie by Joel Schumancher.) The orginal quote was: "TWO HUNDRED KILOS ON THE HEAD OF A CONCIERGE/ That was her sole epitaph!"
(8) Argueably one of Herend Porcelain's most famous china patterns that was debuted in 1851. This china set caught the eye of Queen Victoria, during the first World's Fair in London. Also note that Herend Porcelain is a Hungarian manufacturer of luxury porcelain goods that was popular amongst many European aristocrats in the Victorian Age. I though Esther might like this brand of porcelain, considering she was raised in Hungaria. (Note: Black Butler reference.)
(9) Assum tea is (as stated in the text) a full bodied black tea that is commonly used in breakfast tea blends. It is REALLY good, I drink a cup almost every day. (Note: Black Butler reference.)
A/N: OMG! I can't believe it I'm done! YES! I never knew I could write action shots, I hope I did a good job. This is my first time writing romantic fluff, I hope I did a good job on that, but I absolutely DID NOT have either Twilight or Midnight Sun out while I was writing this, inspiration came from Star Wars Episode II. (That was a little ode to my editor Jedi Skysinger. Hee.) However, considering Abel and Edward Cullen's similar characteristics Jedi Skysinger and I had to add that small joke. ^^ Besides I bet Seth must have gotten a hold of the Twilight Saga while she was still on Earth, considering she's an "eternal teenager" as well. :) Sorry for the cliffy at the end and that I cannot answer whether or not Esther is going to live but... you will have to wait and see. (tears.)
Many people, as I have noticed, seem to like the love triangle Ion x Esther x Abel, but I'm trying to avoid a Twilight Triangle, so I decided that Ion should love Esther as a friend instead of forcing her to choose between him or Abel. I thought for sure at the end of the Night of Lords Arc (Anime) and the Empress of the Night Arc (Manga and Novels.) that when Esther chose to return to Rome than stay in the Empire with Ion, he might've realized that Esther didn't love him as a lover, but as a friend. He also might've noticed how Abel felt for her and Esther for Abel (but they were blinded.) So I decided to stick to that and keep focus on the main pairing. I hope I kept Ion in character throughout all this, and I personally thank Aperio and Jedi Skysinger for helping me with his complex character. ;) And of course my lovely readers and reviewers such as smcandy, Aperio, Yuhi Sakura, White Rose Fox, Shadow-Catrina Irving, Arra-Lune Nightray, darkrusnik05, eXraNIo, Morningstar101 and InuBaki.
Mysteriously yours,
ObsidianEmpress