Chapter Two

"The Devil is a Woman"

30 AD

Lucifer was furious.

The Nazarene, in Hell, barking orders and brow beating her into submission in her own home for three days and nights as if it were his right to do so. His attempts to goad her into open warfare. His demand that she release the souls of Adam and Eve to him, along with the rest of the souls of the righteous, so that they may ascend to Heaven because he'd died for their ability to repent.

Lucifer had argued. Oh, had she argued. He was in her domain! This was Hell . The Nazarene had no jurisdiction here, despite his connection to the Almighty.

Yet, in the end, her arguments had been in vain. Jesus had absconded with no less than twenty thousand souls and returned to the Earth, sending the souls to the Pearly Gates in his wake.

To add insult to injury, he'd blocked all of her portals on the way out in a fit of spiteful anger that was so beneath him that Lucifer was almost proud that the son of God had been the one to do it.

Almost.

"I've made promises that I would return to the surface, Belphegor ," Lucifer hissed through clenched teeth. She sat ridgid on her throne, facing her most high ranking who'd assembled to inform her of their appraisal of the damage Jesus had wrought on his way out. "Lest you forget, half our number is currently stationed up there."

Her tone was biting, not that any of them deserved to bear the brunt of her roiling fury.

Beelzebub was up there, just as stuck to the surface as she was in Hell at the moment. For all she knew Michael could be assembling his forces to destroy those of hers who were vulnerable without her.

Between that and the tensions mounting between her darling Vladimir and a younger emergent coven of strong Vampyres out of Greece it was enough to make her nervous. The potential of losing the first of her Creations to a territory dispute was high.

And Lucifer had grown fond of Vladimir. She enjoyed his banter and cheek. Adored that he was unafraid of her, but yet held a healthy dose of respect. He was whitty, fun-loving, intelligent, and esoteric. Easily misunderstood unless he allowed himself to be understood.

Much like herself.

She'd placed enough of herself into his conception that it was no surprise that Vladimir seemed more like her child than any of her natural children ever had.

Lucifer could not stand the thought of his loss. But he was more vulnerable to the meddling of the Archangels than her Fallen, or her Demons, were. That, and over the past millenia he'd grown accustomed to her interference in all of his endeavors. Abruptly bereft of her aid, she did not know if he would remember how to protect himself.

She hoped that his strong self-preservation instinct would be enough should his life be on the line.

And she hoped Beez would do his best to protect Vladimir, should it come to it.

Worry clawed at her chest and lit her nerves with an unquenchable need to act. Unable to move, she was lashing out against anyone who tried her patience. Whether they deserved it or not.

"No one is suggesting otherwise, my liege." Morax stepped forward, hands raised as if to placate her. As if she were a raging animal in need of a calming voice and a soothing presence, lest she trample them.

This only served to stoke her fire.

The flames that lit the back wall of her throne room suddenly erupted. They singed the room and all of its inhabitants with a staggering intensity. The screams of the Fallen served to ground her and the flames receded, each of her assembled followers were left in various states scattered around the floor like spilled coins. All finery stripped from them, and from the room.

"I would suggest," Lucifer began, stepping (now naked) from her throne to scowl down at them all, her voice calm and controlled despite the destructive fire that gave away her roiling emotions, "finding a way to clear my portals instead of condescending to me, Morax."

"Right away, my liege."

It did not happen right away

500 AD

There were piles of destroyed vampires all around, waiting for their turn to be tossed into the flames for a more permanent death.

The ruins of the Romanian's castle was before them, their battlefield shrouded in a dense fog. The scene was haunting in the warm light of the early morning. Usually, Aro and his brothers would agree that whilst the sun rose to cast shadows over the land, they must take cover. It would be their most important decree as the rulers of the Vampire race, now that they'd eliminated the previous monarchy.

But this was a day of splendid victory! It marked the Volturi's rise to power.

They were inclined to celebrate, before they would regroup and decide how to proceed in claiming what was now theirs by right.

The Romanians dealt with, Aro's ambition turned to the south west. To the Egyptian coven, as his coven's most pressing threat.

"Master." A young, high-pitched and childlike voice chimed from behind him, breaking through his revere. "My brother has captured Vladimir and his second in command, but there is a complication."

Aro was not fond of complications, truth be told, though he did enjoy the feeling of satisfaction when he conquered them.

"What sort of complication, young Jane?" He turned to look at his favored progeny.

The twins, Jane and Alec, were largely the reason that his coven had prevailed in this battle. Devastating power the likes of which Aro hadn't seen in his hundreds of years of life. Between Jane's ability to manifest phantom pain in her victims and Alec's ability to dull the senses to bleak nothing and leaving his enemies incapacitated. They were the Volturi's greatest asset. Turned only recently, at such a tender young age that it was borderline inappropriate. Borderline breaking his own rules regarding immortal children.

A rule that would now become law .

But Aro could not resist the allure of power, and all of his observations led him to believe the twins would make powerful immortals.

He had been right.

"Allow me, my dear Jane," Aro prompted, offering his hand.

She raised her own and as soon as his palms brushed over hers he was gifted with the memories he had missed over the last several minutes.

He dropped her hand and was miles away, standing between his brother Caius and the young Alec in an instant, glaring down a dark haired man of imposing size who held his brother Marcus suspended several feet into the air by his throat. Cracks splintered down the sides of Marcus' neck and their coven crouched defensively, hissing at the interloper.

Caius was deceptively still beside him. No doubt plotting the best way to murder this being that was clearly not a vampire, not a human, and strong enough to keep Marcus docile in his hand.

If Caius moved, Marcus would be lost to them. Marcus' gift for understanding relationships was essential to Aro's plans going forward and he could not stand to lose such an ability.

That, and Marcus was Aro and Caius' sire. There was a bond between them that would last all eternity. He could not allow for Marcus to be lost to them now.

Aro knew he was their best hope of navigating themselves out of such a tricky situation without losing one of their triumvirate before their empire had the chance to truly establish itself.

"Good morning," Aro began, summoning every ounce of his acquired charm and political savvy for the purpose of easing the tension of his hissing coven and extending an olive branch to the angry being in front of him, "we have not had the pleasure of being introduced. I am Aro of the Volturi–"

"I am aware of who you are," the staggering behemoth interrupted, squeezing Marcus just a bit tighter. More cracks appeared. "I do not care to hear your flowery excuses. Nor do I hope to make an acquaintance out of you. Release the Vladimir of the Romanian Coven and I shall take no actions against you and yours for this slight."

The way the interloper had stressed that he would take no actions against the Volturi made Aro weary.

"It is trickery, Aro," Caius warned under his breath.

"Abaddon," the thundering echo of the man's voice rang out amongst the destroyed battlements, "if they do not release Satanas' favorite in two minutes, unleash your destructive fires upon the lot of them."

"Such drama," came a new voice from above them. Aro's eyes cut to the small, almost boyish figure of a fair haired man who was grinning lazily down at them from a branch, "surely we can avoid all that . She won't be pleased if she learns we've stricken down every Vampyre who managed to get one over on Vladimir. The boy makes it too easy."

Referring to a vampire far older than Aro himself as a boy once again made Aro weary.

"Mephistopheles," the large man's voice growled low in warning.

"Beelzebub," the smaller man responded lightly, dropping out of the tree a scant few inches from Aro himself. Mephistopheles gestured over his shoulder at his friend, who still held the struggling Marcus like it was no bother at all. "Don't mind the lumbering oaf, he takes his loyalty to our Mistress to a severe degree. Kill first, ask questions never, if you will." The small man bowed, though his eyes never left Aro. "I am Mephistopheles, this is Beelzebub, and hiding in the shadows of the crumbled castle is Abaddon, who is preparing to destroy you all should you not acquiesce to Beelzebub's request. I'm afraid I cannot call him off, he only answers to two and I am not one of them."

There was quite a lot to decipher in Mephistopheles' introduction, but one part that stood out was that Beelzebub was absolutely in charge despite the smaller man's interruption and candor.

The other was that Beelzebub was not the only one in charge. This Mistress, someone who was not present but could command all three of these exceptionally powerful beings in front of him.

(He did not need a display to know that these beings were of incredible might. It was clear in the way they carried themselves without fear of the Volturi, despite having seen the devastation that had been brought to the Romanians.)

"A pleasure." Aro bowed in turn, painting a benevolent smile upon his face. "Might I ask, before we're destroyed for holding our prisoner, what is it you want with Vladimir?" Aro asked, it wasn't the most pressing information he needed, but something was scratching at the back of his mind. His natural curiosity, perhaps, but whatever it was he knew that he needed to learn as much as he could about these strange men. There was something else, too, that was screaming at him. It sounded as if it were underground. He could hear the faint sounds, but he couldn't understand them.

It frustrated him.

"It is not what we want with him, Aro of the Volturi," Mephistopheles' slow grin was chilling, "but rather that someone we would not wish to displease wants with him. You would not wish to displease her either, I assure you. So allow us to take Vladimir off your hands and we will ensure no retaliation from us or him will befall your coven."

"He does not say there will be no retaliation." Caius pointed out, unhelpfully.

Such was obvious and Caius was making the situation worse. Aro raised a hand to silence his brother, praying that he would heed the warning for once .

Mephistopheles shrugged, both hands clasped behind his back. He rocked on the heels of his feet, looking more like a boy than he had before.

"I cannot speak for the Mistress when she learns of what has transpired. All I can say is that the destruction of your coven, should harm befall Vladimir, will be inevitable. Leave him to us, and perhaps she will not be so inclined to bother."

"And who is this Mistress of yours which holds such devastating power?" Caius asked plainly, a scowl stretched his lips and pinched his face.

Aro needed to speak with him, should they survive this, about tact.

Mephistopheles' grin widened. It was a dark, frightening look that was not right for his face and Aro physically restrained himself from taking a step back because, perhaps for the first time since he'd become immortal, he was intimidated by such a look.

"One whose attention you do not wish to draw." Beelzebub droned from where he stood, looking bored as he scraped one finger through the cracks of Marcus' neck, pulling back with venom on his digit. He licked the juices from his finger and smirked, proving to Aro and all vampires gathered that these beings were unaffected by vampire venom.

What were they? Aro longed to reach out and brush his fingers against one to gain the insight he was so desperately seeking. There was too much dancing around the subject. He wished to know.

"She has many names, you will have heard several in your years as vampires. Perhaps, even, in your years as mankind." Mephistopheles circled Aro like a predator, looking for all the world as though he was merely taking a leisurely stroll through the carnage. "The death of the Nazareen was only five centuries ago."

The only being he'd heard of called the 'Nazarene' was that prophet that the Catholic Church kept raving about. Jesus of Nazareth, who had claimed he was the son of a single, Almighty God. That was around the time Aro and his brother's had begun gathering allies and spreading out from Greece. They'd encountered whispers about this supreme deity in the past, the religion seemed to be gaining ground in Rome. It had become the Roman's official religion just two hundred years ago.

"Absurd," Caius seethed, swiping his arm furiously as if that would banish the idea entirely, "you speak of the God of Abraham, yes?" Aro was unaware that Caius had taken an interest in Catholic doctrine. "Of all the reading I've done, every word points to this God as a being of masculinity–"

"-Did I say 'God' was our Mistress?" Mephistopheles interrupted, once again. This time he laughed outright. The sound grated even Aro's nerves. "Yes, yes, God is a being of masculinity." The small man waved a hand, amused. "But the Devil, " his eyes twinkled, "oh–the Devil is a woman. And what a woman she is."

In the end, Marcus was released and a bargain reached.

Because not even Aro was ambitious (foolish) enough to go to war with the Devil.

Notes: