Act Four Chapter One - Justified and Ancient

“There is an old saying, mi'lord. That politics makes strange bedfellows. Perhaps you've heard it.”

The vampire speaking was a sharp contrast to his surroundings. He was dressed in a red suit with a black overcoat and a black fedora hat. His hair was as black as his garments, but his ice blue eyes and pale skin marked him as something unnatural, as one of the undead. His fine attire stood out against the dusty stone of the catacombs beneath St. Andrew's Church in Roanoke.

Sitting across from him, upon a wooden church throne, was the aged and monstrous Nosferatu Prince Mathias. The elder vampire glared at the dapper newcomer with intensity, curious at the answer he had just received to his question.

The newcomer continued. “Let me be frank mi'lord. Three years ago, Prince Lazarus met a fiery end on Christmas Eve. The conflict that followed his demise also brought another of your esteemed allies, the Mad Bishop of Lynchburg, to Final Death. With Washington and Charlottesville in the hands of the mages and Tidewater under the thumb of your rebellious childe Maximilian, you are running out of allies here in Virginia. Prince Guy's offer, if I may be so bold, should probably not be ignored.”

“You are a bold one, Cranston," Mathias spoke slowly, but intensely. "But you are also unwise. You and your master presume much. Am I now more vulnerable because a few paltry pawns have fallen to my enemies? No, I don't think so.”

“Michael Allens has made no secret of his intent to return to Roanoke and reclaim what was taken from him.” Cranston's eyes fell upon the petite redheaded vampire woman at Mathias' feet. Deborah Means was a far cry from her former self. Once fiery, now demure. Once defiant, now broken, slave to the thrall-bond Mathias had imposed upon her. “He is more formidable than you may realize, mi'lord. We once made the mistake of underestimating him and it cost us much.”

Mathias scoffed. "He is a fledgling, a whelp. Nothing more."

“He nearly sat the throne of Tidewater himself. He certainly had the power and the influence to do it.” countered Cranston.

“But he chose not to, because he feared Maximilian. If he fears Maximilian, he is no threat to me. Ernie can no longer help him. He is nothing.”

“He stands in defiance of your justice. You did condemn him to Final Death, and yet he still walks this earth.”

“Irrelevant. He is no longer of this city. He can count himself lucky to have such stalwart friends as Solomon Wolfe, nothing more. No, you may have one more night within my city, Cranson. After that, go back to your Prince Guy and tell him we have no interest in his offer. And if Michael dares return to Roanoke, he will surely meet the justice he once escaped. If he is wise enough to surrender a throne he could have taken to a more seasoned schemer like Maximilian, I somehow do not think he would so stupid as to come back here again. Djinn, see our guest out.”

The Djinn stepped forward from where he'd kept his silent and nearly invisible vigil near one of the stone columns of the catacombs. Cranston nodded respectfully to Mathias' sheriff and moved to be escorted to the exit.

“What I said to your master was true,” said Cranston as they began the slow climb back up to street level. “Michael is planning to return and he is intending to reclaim what was once taken from him. It's not just Deborah that he wants.”

The Djinn paused mid-step. “What else is there?”

“An obligation to his werewolf friend, for one. Boorman wants vengeance upon the uratha tribe in the Roanoke area for his exile and for the death of his lover. But there is still something else and you know what that is. Someone as smart as you, who knows about our true nature, surely didn't believe her survival would go undetected by her sire.”

The Djinn's face was an unreadable mask, but Cranston continued. “Like Michael, she too escaped the Prince's justice. How long can her survival be kept secret from Mathias?” Cranston let the question linger for several seconds. Then he began to walk up the stairs without the Djinn.

When he had gotten ahead by a few yards, he paused again. “The Three Great Elders they are called by our kind: Monroe, Mathias, and Malenkov. And yet, you are likely older than two of those three. I've always wondered why your name was not so lauded and feared as theirs.” Cranston's face took on a curious look, as if pondering the question in his mind. “Still, Monroe sleeps and Ernie has been cast out by those he loved most. With Mathias far more vulnerable than he wants to let on, perhaps it is time for a new batch of great ones to emerge.”

“That is dangerous talk.”

“Someone as smart as you has already had this conversation in his own mind. Perhaps that is why Rebecca lives. Nothing would draw Michael here faster than word of another coup attempt. Perhaps there is a way for both of us to get what we want. You, a throne of your own, and my master his vengeance for the death of his lover Raoul, a vengeance denied him when Michael's star rose so quickly and brightly in Tidewater. Think on it, my friend.”

---

The young vampire checked herself in the mirror once more, confirming what she knew to be true. She was a vision to be sure. The pagan goddesses of old could not compare. Her pale skin flawless. Her hair fiery red. Her eyes blue like the sea. Her clothing leaving little to the imagination.

That was, of course, intentional. Rebecca Phillips had chosen something of an homage to her master's ethnic origins, or at least the Hollywood impression thereof. Lilac colored silk, so thin to be nearly transparent, covered her arms and legs. Her belly was bare, but her breasts and loins covered by more opaque material. She looked every bit the part of the harem slave of lore. None could resist her charms.

Or so she hoped. That was part of the game. Rebecca had once read that Gandhi had surrounded himself with beautiful women to test the strength of his avowed chastity. The Djinn, it seemed, had chosen a similar path. Time and again, she had tried to seduce him. Time and again, she had failed.

But with those failures came knowledge. New techniques, strategies, things Rebecca would need to become the assassin she was being groomed to be. The Djinn might be able to say no, but few others could, and even his legendary resistance was bound to fail eventually.

The front door to the Djinn's haven opened almost silently. That was by design. Hidden away in a remote part of the sewer system below Salem and Roanoke, the Djinn had created an underground palace. It reminded Rebecca of Lex Luthor's lair in the first Superman movie, only even more ornate. The wealthiest of sultans in old Arabia would envy what the Djinn had hidden admist the slime and waste of human society.

The part of the lair that was not given over to ostentation and wealth was dedicated to more martial purposes. An exercise room, a firing range, an arsenal of weapons both archaic and modern, all for the Djinn's own use and for that of his student. Here, Rebecca had learned to shoot, to fight, and to kill without leaving a trace.

The Djinn's near silent entrance to his home had not been missed by Rebecca. Part of her extensive training had been to make full use of her power vampire senses. She weighed her options. She could enter the shadows, try to sneak up on her master. Surprise him and then attempt seduction with him so disarmed. Or she could play vulnerable, tantalize him with her beauty and lure him in unawares. She chose the latter option.

She wandered out from her dressing room to the main living area, acting utterly oblivious to her surroundings. She sat down on the sofa there and then stretched out, giving any observer quite the show of her seductive attire. She closed her eyes and waited. She did not wait long before she could sense him above her. Her eyes popped open and she looked into The Djinn's face as he hovered over her. So close she could have felt his breath on her skin, had he chosen to breathe. His jet black skin was always intimidating; normally Rebecca would suppress the shiver she would feel upon seeing him, but not this time. No, the more vulnerable and weak he thought her, the better.

"I could rape you right now." he said.

"You could and I couldn't stop you."

"That's what you want, isn't it?" With a shove, he pushed himself back, his resolve firm. Another failure. Rebecca's face became crestfallen with disappointment.

To her surprise, the Djinn smiled at her. "You are ready." he declared.

"Master?" she asked in confusion.

"It is getting more difficult each night to say no to your charms. If I am finding you irresistible, then so will he."

"Forgive me, but who are you taking about?"

"The Prince."

"But he has Deborah."

"So did your sire, and yet he still sought you out. No, don't underestimate yourself. Mathias will set Deborah aside, enraptured with you, obsessed with you. And that will be our moment to strike."

"You intend to depose him after all?"

"Guy du Savoy of Richmond sent his lapdog Cranston to the Prince's court this very night to propose an alliance. They know. With Ernie gone and Lazarus and the Mad Bishop dead, Mathias is vulnerable. It will be only a matter of time before some ambitious young thing with the blessing of Mathias' enemies brings chaos to our city."

"Michael."

"He is the most likely candidate, presuming Maximilian can maneuver him away from his own throne." admitted The Djinn. "But why should he have what I am rightfully due? If Mathias must fall, it will be by my hand. Or more accurately, yours."

"You have a plan?"

"I do. In two nights, Mathias will preside at Midnight Mass, after which he will hold court. We will introduce you to him as a new kindred of city, seeking refuge here. He will undoubtedly first try to read your mind, to detect any deception. You have been well trained to resist that, so when he fails he will quiz you to find holes in your story."

"And that story will be?"

"That you come from Chicago, but your mortal days were spent here in Salem. You know the layout and the history of the city well enough by now to satisfy him. Once he is done and he has accepted you, then you must charm yourself into his bed. That, I think, will not be hard."

"There's just one problem."

"That he might remember you from your trial. Yes, I've considered that. Come, let us see what manner of disguise we can conjure for you."

---

It turned out much as the Djinn had expected. After worship, Rebecca stepped forward, introducing herself as Alexandra Cantrell, a Daeva vampire late of Chicago, but raised in her mortal days in Salem. Mathias stared her down and she felt his pressure against her mind. But he found her unreadable.

"You've learned to block telepathy." Mathias commented aloud.

"A useful skill, mi'lord, where I came from."

"If you are from Salem, then answer me this..." The expected questions followed. Rebecca answered each one accurately, even adding in a few tidbits of trivia herself. Seemingly satisfied with her answers, Mathias spoke again. "Come with me."

Rebecca followed. "I have no reason to doubt your story, but neither do I have any reason to believe it." Mathias said sternly. "These are dangerous times."

"I've noticed." Rebecca interjected sarcastically. "I left Chicago for a reason." she quickly added when Mathias cast an angry glare at her.

"No doubt, but whatever that reason is, do not presume that our little hermitage city is simply yours to do with as you please. We have ways of dealing with troublemakers." On cue, The Djinn manifested next to Mathias in a puff of smoke, armed to the teeth and looking as intimidating as possible.

Rebecca knew that was coming, of course. The Djinn had told her that was customary for any who sought residence in Mathias' territory. Despite knowing it was to happen, Rebecca still jumped back at a start. Convinced he'd made his point, Mathias softened. "Welcome to Roanoke, Ms. Cantrell."

Rebecca nodded and broke off to return to the rest of the assembled kindred.

She remembered many of the faces from the night she was dragged before them along with her sire and grand-sire to be tried as criminals and rebels. But none seemed to recognize her, for which she was thankful. Black hair dye and brown contact lenses had done enough to throw everyone off. She was thankful that she'd only been seen by the assembled crowd that one time.

Thus Rebecca began her charm campaign. While the child-like Sophia and her childe Corrine appeared uninterested, Andreas could not get enough of her. In the midst of bantering with the Venture, Rebecca kept casual attention on Mathias. The Prince's eyes, twisted and alien as they were, never left her.

"Enough!" the Prince suddenly barked impatiently. "Leave us. Our business is done."

"It seems that Caesar has spoken." said Andreas, "Perhaps we can..."

"No," interjected Mathias. "I wish to speak to Alexandra alone. The rest of you, go!"

"Master?" came the feeble voice of Deborah. Rebecca was astonished to realize that she'd been present the whole time, but no one it seemed had noticed her or paid her any heed at all. What a horrific fate for her once proud grand-sire.

"You as well." said Mathias without looking at her. "Return to the haven."

Deborah bowed her head and departed.

After they had all filtered out, Rebecca stood before Mathias in the church alone. "What is it you wish to speak to me about?" she asked. A moot question; Rebecca already knew.

Mathias walked over to the altar, ignoring her question. He looked up at the cross upon it and prayed aloud. "Forgive me. I am so weak." He then turned and faced her.

"Come to me." he ordered.

Rebecca could feel vampiric power in those words and she found herself advancing, almost as if her very will had been stolen from her. "It is said in Holy Scripture that the angels once desired mortal women. I now understand why. Disrobe!" The last word was another vampiric command and Rebecca could not resist it. She took off her clothes and stood before him.

Mathias then grabbed her and shoved her to the floor.

---

The hours that followed were something of a blur, for which Rebecca was rather thankful. Mathias' aged vulgar appearance was even worse beneath his robes. Rebecca consoled herself somewhat by recognizing that this was all part of the plan, even if she had envisioned it more as seduction than rape.

Once Mathias had finished ravaging her in the church, he scooped her and her belongings up and carried her down into the depths of the sewers. Through a maze of foul tunnels he carried her over his shoulder, his arms like a vice on her body. Down they went and then up again, finally stopping at the Prince's own lair.

Rebecca was surprised to discover Mathias' lair was very similar to The Djinn's. Different part of the underground, but very similar nonetheless. Mathias hauled her inside, through several rooms, and then tossed her on a mattress to pick up where they left off.

As the Nosferatu thrust into her from behind, Rebecca took stock of her surroundings. Her clothes had come with them and were in a bundle on the floor next to the mattress. The room was largely bare otherwise, but it had two doors. The one they entered through and another that led elsewhere in the lair. There was the constant sound of water splashing, as if they were near a waterfall or something similar.

After a few minutes, Deborah came into the room by the door opposite Rebecca. She sat down in the doorway and watched. She was naked and Rebecca suspected that she never wore clothes at all anymore. Her hair was matted and dirty. But it was her eyes that Rebecca noticed the most. The eyes of one with a broken spirit, sad and pathetic.

Mathias climaxed and pushed Rebecca away. "This will be your home henceforth." he declared. "You will be my mistress."

"Like her?" demanded Rebecca defiantly, nodding towards Deborah.

"Not if you obey me. This one is a traitor and a rebel. I keep her to amuse me. You could be much more. But defy my wishes and you will share her fate." With that, Mathias departed the room.

"Dawn comes." said Deborah softly. "We must sleep."

---

Deep below the earth, no one can sense when the sun rises or sets. No one save for the vampires who know such things by instinct. Rebecca awoke with a start. Her dreams the day before had been filled with monstrous images of what Mathias had done to her.

Rage filled her. If this was the sort of monster Prince Mathias truly was under all his piety, then the Djinn was indeed far more deserving of the throne than his sire. She sat up and took in her surroundings. She was alone or so it seemed. She grabbed her clothes and got dressed.

Rebecca then decided to explore Mathias' lair. It was circular in shape, each room separated from the others by a short hallway. In each hallway was a grated floor under which water flowed. Clean water, thus she concluded that this was part of the city's storm sewer system. She navigated around the circle. Two rooms were a bedrooms. One an entry chamber/living room. Another something of a kitchen/dining area that stunk of death and blood. Yet another was a shrine, filled with religious icons and a small altar. As she passed from room to room in a counter-clockwise fashion, she noticed something. The water in the hallways always flowed to her left, towards the center of the circle.

Curious about this, she pulled up one of the grates and walked down the waterway. It came to a stop at a large chamber, a cistern of some sort deep underground. Perhaps it was some sort of emergency water reserve for the city. Rebecca didn't know its purpose, but she could tell the cistern was quite deep and almost full. She looked about its inner walls, wondering how it kept from flooding the lair. Overflow passages were just below the tunnels to draw off excess water and prevent such flooding. But as her eyes tracked around the circle, she noticed a large section of the wall opposite her was torn away and larger chamber exposed. Sitting within that chamber was Deborah.

Rebecca retreated and made her way further around the circle. As she entered Deborah's "room," she realized she'd come full circle. Had she gone clockwise out of the bedroom, she'd have encountered this room first.

"So, you've come to take my place?" said Deborah sadly. "I guess he'll kill me now. Toss me down below with the others."

"What do you mean?" asked Rebecca.

"His vessels. His food. They all end up down there eventually." Deborah motioned over her shoulder towards the cistern. "And so will I now that he's done with me."

"You don't seem to care."

"He is my master. I live to serve him. If he wishes me dead, then so be it."

"What has he done to you?" Rebecca mused aloud. "My memory of you was of all that fury and anger at Michael for turning me. Now you sit here like you're drugged out of your mind, not even caring if Mathias kills you or not."

"Do I know you?"

"You'll remember soon enough." Rebecca fished through the folds of her skirt and retrieved a small plastic vial filled with blood red liquid.

"What is that?"

"Freedom." said Rebecca. "Drink."

"He wouldn't approve. I am not meant to be free."

"Bullshit!" snapped Rebecca. She grabbed Deborah by the throat, popped the top off the vial, and poured the mixture down her throat. Deborah tried to choke the liquid back up, but Rebecca was too strong. Down it went and it soon began to work.

"The Djinn gave this same elixir to me once. It's a bit of Thebian Sorcery, based on a teaching from Longinus that a vampire should be servant only to God not to one another. It will break your thrall-bond." explained Rebecca. "Unfortunately, it will not be a pleasant experience."

Deborah convulsed onto the floor and began to vomit blood all over the room. Rebecca stepped back, watched and waited. She remembered this from her own experience. How much it hurt, but that was nothing to the mental and emotional shock of realizing all that had been done to her under the bond. Rebecca's memories of being Michael's slave were undoubtedly far more pleasant then what Deborah was about to experience.

After a minute or so of violent convulsions and vomiting, Debroah began to wail and scream. The emotional piece was kicking in. Even as deplorable as Deborah's lot had become under Mathias, Rebecca wondered in that moment if the cure wasn't be worse than the disease.

The physical reaction soon stopped and Deborah curled herself up into a fetal ball, weeping and crying softly. The process was almost done.

"Deb?" Rebecca asked.

Deborah looked up and slowly uncurled herself. Behind her eyes was a rage the likes of which Rebecca had never seen. "Where is he?" Deborah asked, her voice shaking in fury.

"I don't know." answered Rebecca honestly. "But if you want revenge, you need to listen to me."

"I know you. You're Michael's girlfriend."

"Once. A  long time ago now. Now I've spent these four years preparing and training for this moment. We are ending Mathias...tonight, but you have got to trust me. The Djinn and I have planned this."

"The Djinn is behind all this?"

"Yes. He seeks to depose Mathias and I am his weapon to do it."

"What do I need to do?"

"You need to pretend nothing has changed. You are still his slave, still broken and weak. I will disappear into the shadows. When he comes for you to learn my whereabouts, I will strike. You only need keep the ruse up for a moment."

"I can do that."

---

Mathias entered his lair. "Deborah?" he called out as he entered the antechamber from the sewers. He did not hear her respond. He reached into his robes and brought out two items. One a heavy steel chain, the other a stake of wood. He turned to his right and made his way over to Deborah's chamber.

She was within, sitting as she was instructed in her usual spot. "I have good news, Deborah."

"Yes, master." said Deborah calmly.

"I'm not going to kill you." he said. "No, I have a better fate for you. Fitting for one of your treacherous nature. I'm going to stake you and then drop you to the bottom of the cistern. You'll spend the rest of eternity in a watery grave. What do think of that?"

"Whatever you wish, master."

"Hold still. This will only hurt for a second." He drew back to plunge the stake in.

Intense pain shot through his chest in that moment. A sharpened piece of wood tore through his chest from behind and came out the front.

"Indeed!" said Rebecca, emerging from the shadows.

Mathias' eyes grew wide in disbelief, mere moments before rigor stiffened his limbs solid. He slumped to his knees.

"By the way, the name is not Alexandra." Rebecca walked around to the front of Mathias so he could see her. "It's Rebecca. I am childe of Michael Allens who was childe of Deborah Means. You condemned the three of us to hell a few years ago. Now, the tide has turned. Deborah, would you care to do the honors?"

"With pleasure." Deborah stood up and picked up the chain. She wrapped it about his torso and tied it securely. She started to give Mathias a shove into the water, but Rebecca stopped her.

"I'm going to send you to hell with a little something to think about for the rest of eternity," Rebecca said, "For all your sins, the ones that have condemned you most are not those against the two of us or the young vampire of Tidewater who is bridge between us. No, we do this on the orders of someone you've never once suspected of treachery. You fool! All along your worst enemy was your own bodyguard. The Djinn thanks you for his throne. Good-bye, Mathias."

Rebecca stepped back and Deborah shoved Mathias into the deep.

---

"Why have we been summoned again?" demanded Andreas. "Just two nights ago, Mathias couldn't wait to kick us out so he could have his way with that Chicago kindred." It was the catacombs below St. Andrew's Church again. The kindred of Roanoke had gathered at the summoning of the Prince.

"He probably means to announce her as his new mistress. He's probably killed Deborah to boot." replied Sophia.

"Wrong on both counts." said a voice. A strong voice, familiar yet not. One they had not heard in some time.

Deborah Means walked down the stairs into the catacombs. Her red hair was clean and styled. She was clothed in a white tank top with a black leather corset about her belly, a mini-skirt below. Her eyes were bright and alive. She was every bit the vampire they once knew.

"What the hell?" said Andreas.

Rebecca came next, no longer disguised. "Surprised, Andreas? Much has happened these last couple nights."

"Alexandra?" Andreas was confused by her true appearance.

"No, Rebecca is my name." corrected Rebecca firmly.

"What is going on here? Where is Mathias?"

"Dead." came the third voice. The Djinn manifested between the two women. "I am now your Prince."

Next Chapter