Act Two Chapter Fifteen - Smoke On the Water

Michael regarded the soldiers at the gate somewhat nervously. But at the name of the Prince, Lazarus, they stepped aside and allowed both Solomon and Michael passage into Naval Station Norfolk, the headquarters of the Atlantic fleet.

It all seemed surreal. It was Christmas Eve and, according to Maxmillian, it was the tradition of Prince Lazarus to host a Christmas party for all the Kindred of the Tidewater area. It was the only time all the Kindred came together in one group; attendance was obligatory and necessary to stay in the good graces of the Prince. It was certainly a time when the Prince would demonstrate his power and prestige and the venue usually reflected that. For Michael and Solomon (and presumably Ernie also), it was to be their introduction to the Prince and their time to ask his permission to live within his cities.

Michael knew only a little bit about the Prince, and even less about the other Kindred of the city. Maxmillian and Solomon had both filled him in as much as they could. Michael knew that Lazarus was Lancea Sanctum, like Mathias, and also like Mathias was very much so of the mindset that vampires were God’s avenging angels here on Earth. If anything, Lazarus was even more fanatical about it than Mathias had been, demanding a high moral standard of his Kindred. Licentious behavior was not well tolerated in Tidewater.

And yet, there were those who openly defied the Prince on those matters. The Kindred of the city were divided into several groups, or in parlance of Kindred society, coteries. The Prince had his supporters, mostly the loyal and fanatical members of the Lancea like him; Their nickname was the Disciples. Maxmillian and many of those Kindred who had lived in the city long before the rise of Prince Lazarus formed their own group as well; They were called the Old Guard. Yet another group was made up of pagans and non-Christian vampires who openly defied the Prince’s rule, the Servants of Typhon. And there were others still, some nominally allied to the Prince, others openly defiant of him. This group of largely independent vampires was called the Anarchs.

It was all confusing to Michael. This was a new game, a new setting. Tidewater was so much larger than Roanoke had been. Where there had been less than a dozen Kindred in the Roanoke area, now he was within a city where the vampires numbered near 30. All the games of the Danse Macabre that he’d been introduced to by Deborah and Ernie were now amplified accordingly. Who could he trust? Who were his allies? Who were his enemies? These questions were far harder to answer now.

Solomon seemed to note Michael’s concern as they moved further into the naval base towards their final destination. “There’s not really any reason to be nervous tonight. This party is always declared Elysium. None can harm us save the Prince himself and he has no cause to.”

“You’ve been here before. You know the rules, what sort of hornets’ nest were walking into. Humor me my anxiety.” Michael confessed.

“And I’m asking you to trust me.” Said Solomon. “None tonight will harm us. At best, they will see as new pawns in their games, something we can turn to our advantage.”

“That’s a big part of why I’m nervous.”

“I know you haven’t played the game as long as the rest of us, Michael. But the worst thing for us is for them to ignore us. That makes our task of finding allies to rally against Mathias all the harder. Favors exchanged, however, works to our favor. Loosen up. Mingle. Meet people. This is a grand opportunity for us. You are far more the people person than I am. You have the advantage here.”

“So you say…” Michael’s sentence was cut short by a hideous hacking coughing sound. Maximilian was making his presence known.

“Better than me.” Grumbled the Nosferatu.

“Merry Christmas, Max.”

The hunchback ignored the holiday greeting. “Mind well what Solomon just told you. You’re the pretty one here.”

“And Solomon is the strong one and you’re the smart one.”

Max laughed, “And the known quantity. You’re the strangers. But you’ve made my point for me. You have something they want. Don’t forget that.”

“Of that list, I find pretty to be the least useful.”

Max laughed again. “You may be surprised. If one wants to tweak the nose of our overly-stuffy Prince, a man-whore like yourself is just the ticket.” Max wandered ahead, laughing as he went.

Solomon laughed as well and Michael felt his anger rising. “He’s right, you know.” Said Solomon. “Besides, consider your life in Blacksburg. In the single year you’ve been a vampire, you accumulated a network of thralls that nearly rivaled that of the Prince.”

“For all the good it did me.” Michael snarled in reply.

“And you think you can’t repeat that? You spend most of your nights at that club. How many followers do you have there now? That, and while you may not look it, you are a stronger fighter than you appear. They’ll learn that soon enough.”

“I’m just sick of being a pawn in others’ schemes.”

“You stop being a pawn by starting to play the game.” said Solomon. “The question is, do you have what it takes? Time to find out.”

They both came to their destination: a large factory-like building. It was a foundry, used for casting the steel and iron for parts for the naval fleet stationed nearby. Solomon slid the large aluminum door open and they stepped inside.

The place was largely dark. The only illumination came from Christmas lights the Prince’s servants had used to decorate the place and from the orange glow of the foundries themselves. Heat washed over them and Michael found the place far more intimidating than festive. He was certain that was intentional.

Within, Michael could see only a handful of people mingling about, but hushed conversations from the shadows indicated the presence of more. Many, but not most, were vampires. The rest were mortals, presumably thralls and servants. Immediately to his right as he walked inside, a vampire had taken hold of one such mortal and was taking his fill from them.

“So the host provides for his guests.” Said Michael aloud, commenting on the scene. The vampire overheard him and came up from his repast.

“Michael!” came the high pitched squeal. Only one vampire had a voice like that.

“Hello, Ernie.” Said Michael flatly.

“I am so happy you are here.” Ernie leaped from his victim, bouncing up and down like a small child on, well, Christmas. “I’ve missed you so much. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” Replied Michael without emotion.

“Oh, come now. You can do better than that!” scolded Ernie mildly. “Tis the season to be jolly, not dull and boring.”

“This isn’t exactly Jolly Central.”

Ernie shrugged. “It’s all a matter of perspective. You can see this as all dire and dour like mean old Prince Lazarus wants, or you can pretend this is as happy as Disneyland.”

“Well, that explains much about your view of life, Ernie.” Said Michael sardonically. He turned serious again for his next question. “Where have you been? It’s not like you didn’t know where to find us.”

“Oh, here, there, and everywhere. Where does the time go? It’s been a month since we arrived. But there are so many old friends to see. So many people to visit and catch up on.” He raised his hands up as if in exasperation. “So much to do. Work must come first. But there’ll be time for us soon enough.” To drive home the meaning of those words, he gave Michael an overly affectionate stroke on the cheek. And then without another word, he bounded off again.

“As if you needed any more proof of what we said outside.” Commented Solomon. He moved over to the thrall, who remained unmoving against the wall. “Dead.” He said.

“Yeah, that makes me feel so much better.” Said Michael sarcastically. “A lamb in the midst of wolves.”

“You keep thinking that way and you’ll become so.” Said Max. “Better to presume the attitude you took with those robbers. You are a lion, a monster, a savage beast. They’ll respect more if you remember that.”

---

As much as Michael was loath to admit it, what Solomon and Max had told him proved true. Not only was he easily the most popular attendee at the party, but the bolder he was amidst these strangers the more interested they became. Most everyone seemed to at least want to introduce themselves to him, some clearly wanted to go farther, but Michael kept himself at a polite distance from everyone, whether their intentions were friendly, political, or carnal.

As he mingled, he watched Solomon and Ernie. What Max had said about himself being a known element was also proving true about Michael’s companions from Roanoke. Both vampires had been to Tidewater before and it showed. They knew their way around the room. Michael noted however that Ernie had long discarded the bouncy manic man-child persona he so often displayed around him. No, in its place was the Lord, the imperious master he became when he was around those he did not trust. That was telling.

“Fascinating, isn’t he?” came a comment. The voice was accented, French to be precise, and its owner had clearly noticed Michael’s attention.

Michael turned to the speaker. “Francois, is it not?”

“I’m pleased you remember.” Said the French vampire. Michael knew little more than his name and his job: the Prince’s bodyguard.

“Ernie’s been here before.”

“Many times. He wanders. Few of our kind take to the highways and byways, but he does. No fear in that one. Part of his madness, no doubt. He is like a force of nature, spreading chaos wherever he goes. We are not pleased to see him here again.”

“I didn’t bring him here.” Said Michael defensively.

“I am not faulting you, nor Solomon, for his presence. No one brings the Malkovian anywhere. He goes where he wills. But if he is here, he is a harbinger. He brings ill tidings. I know he brought you here, but you would do well, young one, to keep your distance.”

“I’d like to.” Michael admitted. “Tell me, Francois. As the Prince’s bodyguard, are you aware of who controls which hunting ground?”

“Of course. Are you worried as a newcomer that you’ve been trespassing?”

“Tonight is my introduction to the Prince and to the city as a whole.” Reminded Michael, “I’d like to make a good first impression and make amends for whatever sins I may have inadvertently committed.” His use of religious language was deliberate and Michael watched closely to see how Francois reacted. The Frenchman shrugged nonchalantly.

“Where have you taken blood?”

“Fox Hill, in Hampton.”

“Ah, the Fox Club?”

“You know of it?”

“Yeah, Lillian Sterling’s place. Looks out across to Langley. Yeah, we all know of it. Seems like the sort of place that would draw you, given your appearance.”

“So who is Lillian?”

“The far wall. Blond with hair to here in the leather jacket. See her?”

“Yes,” replied Michael, recognizing the vampire Francois indicated as one who had approached him earlier with carnal intentions.

“Be cautious. Lillian is a city primogen. You probably do not want to get on her bad side.”

Michael was not familiar with the term, but presumed it to be some sort of rank or officer position in the city hierarchy. He took his leave from Francois and began making his way to the far wall to reintroduce himself to Lillian.

As he crossed the room, his eyes were drawn to a stunning Kindred who seemed to be heading towards him. She was tall and beautiful, and like Deborah and Rebecca both, her hair was fiery red. She noticed his attention and paused.

“So you’re the new guy.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Michael Allens.” Said Michael politely.

“You are still a stranger here, Mr. Allens.” Said the stunning Kindred firmly. “You might be more careful the next time you decide to play knight-in-shining-armor.”

Michael was about to ask how she knew it had been him the night of the robbery, but she cut him off by offering her hand and introducing herself. “Michelle La Croix, primogen of the Servants of Typhon coterie.”

That word again, but now a context in which to place it: leader (presumably) of a coterie.

“So what are you?” Michael asked bluntly. “Wicca? Something else?”

“Why do you ask?” Michelle replied suspiciously.

“I left one city with an overbearing preacher for a Prince.” Said Michael as disarmingly as he could. “It’s nice to know that at least here there are others that will understand what that’s like.”

Michelle smiled. “Then perhaps we have something in common. But tonight, under our great Lord’s watchful eye, we had best humor him.”

“I’m curious.” Continued Michael, hoping to confirm an observation. “Is it something intentional that every vampire here is of European stock? Is that one way we humor the Prince?”

Michelle gave a clever laugh. “Consider where you are. The capital of the old Confederacy is just a short drive up I-64. You’re no fool, Michael Allens. A bit inexperienced, but no fool. I look forward to talking to you in the future. But not here. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a matter of some importance to attend to.”

Michael nodded as she continued on her way. He likewise made returned his attentions to Lillian. But he taken only a single step when a loudspeaker crackled to life. “Your attention please. His Excellency, Prince Lazarus, bids you welcome in the name of our Lord. He asks that all Kindred present now attend to him near the forges at once.”

Michael frowned, but turned to make his way over to the forges. The other vampires present likewise concluded whatever business was at hand and began making their way over as well.

It was the first time Michael had laid eyes on the Prince himself. He was a tall man, dark of eye and hair with a well groomed mustache and beard. He was dressed in a robe of green satin with red trim, appropriate for the holiday.

“Merry Christmas everyone.” The words were festive, but the tone was cold. Michael had the feeling the Prince was not in a good mood.

“Merry Christmas” came the half-hearted reply. Michael wasn’t sure if it was out of disrespect of the Prince or just plain apathy that fueled the crowd’s tone. He wasn’t sure what either implied, but it was clear that the Prince was not amused by their disinterest.

“It would seem on this most festive of nights,” the Prince continued, “that we welcome into our midst two lost sons of the city. It has been many a year since the night over the Tidewater has seen them, but we welcome them back with our love.” Lazarus turned to where Ernie was standing and gave a curt nod to the Malkovian. “Lord Ernie, welcome.”

“It’s so good to be home.” Said Ernie flippantly. “Of course, I also have…” he paused to count on his fingers “…several other homes too. But I like this one.”

“We’re glad.” Replied Lazarus. His affection was clearly forced. “Solomon Wolfe is also with us once more.” Again, the Prince gave a polite nod in Solomon’s direction. “They are not alone in coming before us this night to seek refuge and welcome in our city. There is a third. Michael Allens, stand forth. Let us meet you.”

Michael stepped out of the crowd. Lazarus beckoned him closer. “Come. Let us look at you.” Michael moved to the Prince’s side. Lazarus looked him up and down. “Young. How long ago were you embraced?”

“Last October.”

“Little more than a year. My goodness, you are but a babe in arms. But your sire is not with you, so understand that you will be held accountable for your deeds while in my city. Now tell me. Why are you here?”

“I came with Ernie and Solomon.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It was getting crowded. Too many Kindred in too small a city.”

“No doubt, and yet you come, by your own admission, in the company of two Kindred, neither of whom are your sire.”

“They are my mentors and my friends.” Michael admitted.

“But where is your sire?”

“She stayed behind.”

“And who is she?”

“I think you already know, mi’lord.” Michael was growing impatient, but remained as polite as he could muster under his anger.

“Indeed we do. Deborah Means, the Daeva slut. In fact, your entire reputation precedes you, Mr. Allens. Your crimes, your mistakes, your open defiance and disobedience to your lawful Prince Mathias. You fled a Blood hunt and you seek sanctuary in my city!” Lazarus’ tone was harsh and hostile.

“You gave Ernie and Solomon succor without question.”

“They have proven their value time and again. You are nothing. A foolish childe with delusions of grandeur. You are not welcome here, and I will send you back to Mathias where you belong.”

Two of Lazarus’ mortal guards moved to Michael’s side and grabbed him by the arms.

“Who rules here?” Michael demanded, no longer keeping his temper in check. “You? Or the Nosferatu who lives hundreds of miles away?”

“Mind you insolence, boy, or I will end you right here.” Lazarus snapped his fingers to more of his guards. “Bring in the twins, so this boy can see how little patience I bear for his sort of folly.”

The guards dragged two young-looking Kindred out from a nearby room. The two were shackled together, their chains clanking and clattering as they were dragged across the floor. The guards hung their wrist shackles onto a hook that was dangling near the Prince.

“Lucas and Latetia Black. It is one thing that you have scorned your divine calling to be angels of death for our Lord. A heinous sin, but not irredeemable.” The guard offered Lazarus a remote control. The Prince hit a series of buttons and the two prisoners were hoisted off the floor. “It is quite another for you to have so stained your souls with a sin even the mortals find foul. For you to lie with one another as husband and wife when you were born of the same womb is unforgivable. For that, I condemn you to hellfire.”

Lazarus pressed another button and Michael noticed a large ceramic ladle begin making its way from the forges to where they were standing.

“God no! Mercy, my Prince.” Cried out Lucas.

“There will be none.” Lazarus pressed yet another button and the ladle began to tip. Michael could see the glow of molten metal within.

“Latetia, I love…” The molten steel poured down from above, splashing upon both twins. Their screams echoed through the foundry as the bright liquid metal seared their bodies to ash.

“Who now questions my power?” barked Lazarus. He glared at Michael and then motioned for his guards. “Stake him and take him to Roanoke.”

“I think this little charade has gone on long enough, Prince Lazarus.” It was Ernie.

Lazarus turned and glared hard at the Malkovian. “Yes, we all know.” Ernie continued. “You’re really scary and mean and powerful. You’ve made your point. Now let him go. Michael is with me.”

“You dare…”

“Indeed I do.”

The two elders stared at one another for a small eternity. No one said a word. Michael watched quietly and understood now what Maxmillian had told him over a month earlier about Ernie, Mathias, and Monroe. He remembered what Francois had said just a few minutes earlier and he knew who would win this contest.

Lazarus blinked first. “Let him go.” The guards did so.

“It’s good to know you’re still a reasonable man, Prince Lazarus.” Replied Ernie.

“Reasonable?” came another voice, a woman’s voice. “No, he calls himself Prince, but I call him murderer.” The bearer of the voice forced her way through the crowd. As she emerged, Michael recognized her as Lillian Sterling.

“It is within my rights as Prince to punish lawbreakers.”

“Even crimes that harm no one?” Lillian moved up to the Prince.

“Their sin was an abomination!”

“Before who? Your god? We are vampires! What is God to us?”

“Blasphemy!” exclaimed the Prince.

Michael stood there between the two guards who had been holding him and watched, as did everyone, this grand spectacle. But something drew his eyes upward. The ladle was no longer parked above the chain were the twins had died so horribly. It was now above their heads.

“How…” his mind began, just as he realized it was tipping. Without thinking another thought, he flung himself backwards as the ladle tipped over.

Its molten contents poured down upon Lazarus and Lillian. They screamed in horrid echo of the dying cries of the twins. The guards too, just as vulnerable to liquid steel as Kindred, caught flame.

The room exploded into chaos. Vampires and thralls scattered in panic. The Prince was dead. Assassinated! Michael quickly picked himself up from the dust, mindful only of the growing pool of molten metal where the Prince had stood just moments before. Solomon! He had to find Solomon.

He came to his feet, only to be knocked headlong by a panicked mortal thrall. He made to get up yet again, only to be grabbed roughly by the back of his shirt collar and hauled upright. To his dismay, the one so manhandling him was not Solomon, but Francois.

“Let him go.” Barked an order. “You know he had nothing to do with this.” It was Solomon.

Francois gave Michael a curt shove, roughly flinging him to Solomon. “Whoever has done this will pay.” He said and departed without another word.

“I think he means it.” Said Michael.

“I’m certain he does. Are you hurt?”

“No, thank God for Daeva reflexes. Another tenth of a second and I’d have joined the prince in that molten hell.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

By this point, the room was nearly clear. Ernie conspicuously remained, enraptured by the glow of the molten steel upon the floor. “So beautiful…” he whispered, barely audible amidst the din. In that moment, he took notice of Michael and Solomon. He looked at them and a wicked smile crossed his lips. He began to laugh.

"Ding! Dong! The Prince is dead!" Ernie pranced around the room, whimsically singing his own paraphrase of the old Wizard of Oz tune. “How wonderful! How awesome! How glorious!”

“Ernie!” Michael barked, trying to pull him out of his reverie.

He stopped. “Isn't this a golden opportunity for us? Who knows what may yet come down the line?"

“Was this your doing?” demanded Solomon.

“Oh, no.” said Ernie, “But now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer,” Ernie burst into a brief giggle as he looked down upon the blazing pyre behind them, “by this sun of York.”

“Excuse me?”

"You're welcome." said Ernie with a bit of glee.

"What for?" Michael asked.

"It’s everything you ever wanted, my dear." replied Ernie flirtatiously. "A cause to fight for, enemies to battle, and a city to win. It's all yours. Enjoy it. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!"

Next Act