Hiroshi Takagi looked
over the second quarter reports from his various businesses. Business was good;
his dozens of holdings, many of them a part of Pat Robertson’s Christian
Broadcasting Network, were showing steady growth. But the millions in profit, a
small portion of which was secretly channeled into his own coffers, did not
dissolve the unease in his mind.
The situation was
disintegrating faster than he had anticipated. Damn Michelle, damn Maximilian
and damn Michael Allens all the more. It was bad enough that Francois had
disappeared, almost immediately after declaring for Lazarus’ seat on the
council. That was plenty suspicious and undoubtedly a prelude for further
violence. Now that violence had erupted. Despite the “promise” Max had secured
for Michelle’s vote, Hiroshi knew who was next to fall.
Solomon would last no
longer than Francois.
Hiroshi was certain
someone was going to gun for him next, perhaps even the same faction that had
eliminated Francois. Hiroshi smiled. There were only a handful of Kindred who
had the physical power to kill Francois and Solomon and he was one of them.
Once Solomon was out
of the way, Hiroshi could make the claim he was best to claim the throne. After
all, he would be the only one left strong enough to hold on to the throne, the
only one the other Kindred would fear to attack. Not only that, his extensive
business contacts made him the best candidate to manage the city and its
valuable hunting grounds.
But whoever else was
planning to eliminate Solomon might know that. Hiroshi tapped his fingers
nervously on his desk. Would he have to take the initiative himself or let some
other fool remove the last obstacle to rise to power for him?
Hiroshi overhead a
radio begin to play from the hallway; probably the nightly janitorial crew. He
frowned. They often played the radio too loud, even though they knew the “boss”
often worked late and was there after hours.
A loud knock came on
the door. “Not tonight.” Barked Hiroshi. “I am working…and turn that garbage
down.”
The door flew open.
Hiroshi shot to his feet, furious at the deliberate intrusion.
“That is hardly the
tone to take with your betters.” Came a voice. Hiroshi turned in shock.
“You!”
The intruder cut an
impressive figure, if a bit out of place. He was garbed as a Catholic bishop, a
cassock of black, with a purple sash across his waist. In his hand was a wooden
staff, not unlike a bishop’s crosier. The garments were worn and moth-eaten
however, hardly of the fine quality an active member of the church would wear.
Likewise, his staff looked worn and was even broken off on one end. The
tattered state of his garb matched with the wild look in his eyes gave Hiroshi
all he needed to identify him.
“You. I’ve heard of
you.” Said Hiroshi. “The one they call the Mad Bishop, Prince of Lynchburg.”
“And so I am. I have
heard of you as well, Mr. Takagi.” Said the impressive clergyman. “Word has
come to me from Lord Mathias. His holiness has been watching events here with
great interest.” His tone grew harsh. “His servant Lazarus dead. The templar
Francois vanished and likely dead. The fugitive Allens running amok. Now that
betrayer Maximilian calls the shots. And you sit here mewling about your next
move.”
Hiroshi snarled in
rage and lunged towards the Bishop. With a deft move, the clergyman swung his
staff and knocked Hiroshi onto his rump.
“Do not move!” barked
the Bishop, putting all the force of his vampiric power into his voice. Hiroshi
was astonished to feel his limbs stiffen against his will. He could not disobey
even if he tried. “Impulsiveness is what has brought us to this point. It is
bad enough in our enemies. I will not have you fall prey to its folly as well.”
“Why are you here?”
“To set things right.
Our master is tired of your cowardice, so he has sent me to assume control and
put things as they should be.”
“And if I refuse to
allow this? I am primogen of this city and leader of the Disciples faction. I
control businesses throughout these cities worth millions. I command hundreds
of thralls and through them thousands of their subordinates. I am heir to all
that Lazarus once possessed. I do not need you.”
“And despite all that
power you have done nothing! Afraid to act lest one of your enemies gain the
tiniest advantage. Your enemies are rallying all around you and yet you do
nothing. Even now you question how to respond to the new regent. You are a
fool. You are blind. You are a coward. I should plunge this stave into your
heart and leave your fool corpse for the sun. Do you know that Guy du Savoy has
come down from Richmond and now conspires with Maximilian? Damian Drake has
yet to choose a side. Why do you not woo him? The Servants are now the weakest
they’ve ever been and yet no plans for their destruction have been drawn up.
No, Mr. Takagi, you will not resist me. You will not resist me because you do
need me. The Disciples need me. For without me, they will lose. They will lose
because their leader is you. Well, no longer.”
“I should kill you
where you stand.”
“You are welcome to
try.” The Bishop stepped back, spreading out his arms with his palms upraised.
Hiroshi glanced to
his desk. Next to it, on a finely crafted mahogany table was a trio of blades:
katana, wakazashi, and tanto. Antiques, passed down to Hiroshi from his
grandfather, one of the last of the samurai before their way of life was
abolished in the late 19th century. They were not display pieces.
They were weapons of war. One well placed blow and the haughty bishop would be
meeting the God that adorned the silver cross on his chest.
The Bishop laughed at
him. “You have not the will. The same fear that keeps you from action against
your enemies paralyzes you now. Admit it.”
Hiroshi surrendered
and bowed his head.
“Wisdom comes from
knowing your limitations.” Said the Bishop. “You were Lazarus’ heir only because
the rest of the Disciples feared those blades of yours and your skill with
them. But a true leader you are not. You were never groomed to become one
because Lazarus feared your prowess as much as anyone. Better to leave you
weak; you’re a more useful tool that way. And so it will be again. I will lead.
You will follow.”
“And what is our
first move?”
“The very thing you
nearly talked yourself out of a few minutes ago. We will kill Solomon Wolfe.”
---
“It is such a
strange thing that mankind always believes itself good. Yet their mastery of
the world of the Six Realms is built upon a foundation of blood. They kill and
they destroy. It is their nature…”
Michael typed away
furiously. It had been a long time since the writing bug had taken hold in his
mind. Oh, he still received moneys from his previous two novels, but he had
written hardly a word since Lazarus had died. But last night with Adeline had
inspired him.
Her drunken state had
stripped away all inhibitions. Combined with his vampiric charm and good looks,
she gave in to him as wantonly as few had. To his great surprise, he quickly
discovered she was a virgin and had no experience and almost no knowledge of
things sexual. But there was no fear in her. Only hunger for forbidden fruit.
But it was the moment
of climax that proved his muse. When he came inside her and she realized what
he was doing, she cried out in dismay. Pregnant! He might make her pregnant!
Her lust, her fearlessness all vanished as she mistakenly came to believe she
could conceive a child by him. Terrified, she rushed from the room, almost
forgetting her clothing as she went.
Michael didn’t mind.
He had taken his pleasure and a measure of her blood as well, drawn from his
favorite spot on the inside of a woman’s thigh. If anything, he found her panic
amusing. After all, he was dead, a vampire, and what is dead cannot produce
life.
But then the idea
struck him.
“…They sustain
their very lives by death.” He continued to write. “The meat they
consume, even the grain of the field dies to sustain their existence. They are
creatures of death, and yet they call us evil. We, the Darkspawn, who take our
sustenance from the passions of the flesh. We who feed on the very act that
creates life, rather than destroys it. We who have been maligned for countless
generations for this. Now is our time.”
Michael paused. “Meat
they consume?” he wondered aloud. “Too clinical. How can I say…” A loud rapping
came at the door of his office. Michael looked up. “Come in.”
“I hear there be a
new sheriff in these here parts.” Said Ernie, swaggering inside like an Old
West cowboy.
“So I’ve heard.” Said
Michael. “Although not sheriff. Regent is Solomon’s true title.”
“Ah, of course, under
the circumstances a necessary change.”
“What do you mean?”
In a pitch perfect
imitation of the Law & Order intro, Ernie began to speak. “In the criminal
justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally
important groups: the police, who investigate crime; and the district
attorneys, who prosecute the offenders. Only, in the vampire world, the sheriff
is the police and the Prince is the district attorney, judge, and executioner.
But we have a problem…”
“No prince.”
“Precisely.” Punched
Ernie with his words. “Thus, vampire society created the office of regent which
empowers a single kindred will all these law enforcement powers combined in
order to keep the peace in times of crisis. It has only been used a very few
times, mostly because no one trusts anyone else with that much authority.”
“So, tell me Ernie,
should Solomon try to find out who killed Prince Lazarus?” Michael was trying
to gauge Ernie’s reaction, to see if it would confirm or deny any of his
suspicions.
“He has the authority
to seek out and punish the murderer, but I don’t see what it would
accomplish…unless the murderer was somehow a grave threat to the city as it is
now.”
“I think that’s a
given. Why else kill the Prince?”
“Oh, plenty of
reasons. Philosophical differences, vengeance, jealousy. Same reasons you kill
anybody. They get in your way, you get them out of your way.”
“…by whatever means.”
Added Michael.
“Well, death by lava
is probably a bit extreme, but, hey, it worked. He’s not in anyone’s way
anymore!”
“So who was the
Prince in the way of?”
“Everybody, I should
say. I don’t think anyone save Francois really misses him, although he did have
powerful allies further up the chain.”
“Mathias.” Michael
answered.
“Very much so.”
“Even out here in
Tidewater, that monster’s tendrils spread.” Lamented Michael.
“Indeed they do.”
“So we’re going to
have to fight our way through his allies here before we can hit him back in Roanoke.”
“It depends somewhat
on which prize you want to claim, but either way, Mathias stands in your way.”
“And what other prize
would I want outside of those I left behind in Roanoke?”
“There’s an empty
throne here in Tidewater.” Said Ernie bluntly.
“Yes, there is.”
Michael conceded. He didn’t like where the conversation was going, so he
shifted directions. “But made empty by whom? I’m curious, Ernie, who do you
think did it? Everyone may have had a reason, but not everyone had the means or
the opportunity. Surely you have an opinion.”
“The one you least
expect.” He paused. “And thus I clothe my naked villainy with old odd ends
stolen out of holy writ, and seem a saint when most I play the devil.”
“What is that from?”
“A bit of
Shakespeare. Richard III. Act one. Scene three.”
“I never took you for
the literary type.”
“We can all be
inspired by our childer, even the most aged of us.”
“Shakespeare!”
screamed Michael in his mind as the revelation came upon him. “There’s a
primogen named Shakespeare! That’s who killed Lazarus. That’s why Ernie’s been
quoting the Bard ever since the Prince was killed. Ernie’s not the murderer,
his childe is.”
Ernie smiled, that
same goofy smile that he always had on when around Michael. Only now did
Michael note its absence prior.
“You were bothered by
the fact that I thought it was you.” Michael admitted.
Ernie shrugged. “I
said it was a golden opportunity for you, not that I’d created the opportunity.
Still,” he paused and all mirth faded from Ernie’s face. “Beware of Richard.”
Michael wasn’t quite
sure what Ernie meant. He knew, of course, that was the name of the king in the
very play Ernie had just quoted, but he had no idea who he was referring to
now. Was Richard the vampire Shakespeare’s real name? Unable to divine Ernie’s
meaning, Michael simply shrugged and said “Okay.”
Ernie popped to his
feet, glancing briefly at Michael’s computer screen. “I must depart. Always
work, work, work…As for you, don’t spend too much time before that insane
contraption. After recent events, I am certain the lovely Leigh or the
delightful Sarah will want your company. Perhaps both at once.” With that, he
departed.
Michael leaned back,
imagining Ernie’s departing suggestion and finding it most tantalizing.
---
Michael would soon
find himself disappointed. When he suggested the ménage a’trois with
Sarah later that evening, she frowned and muttered something about “not
swinging that way.”
Undaunted, he took
her alone, which was plenty satisfying even if not quite the fantasy Ernie had
planted in Michael’s head. Once they had finished, Michael made a point to
contact Solomon. That took much of the night; the new regent was proving quite
busy driving about and making his presence known, reminding all that laws would
once again be enforced and enforced vigorously.
When Michael shared
what he had divined from his conversation with Ernie, the Gangrel grew
interested. “It would certainly help to calm a few restless souls to finally
have the answer to that mystery.” He said. “Shakespeare is not one I’ve yet
visited. I’ll make him priority tomorrow night.”
“Out of curiosity,”
Michael asked. “Is his real name Richard?”
Solomon shrugged. “I
have no idea. To my knowledge, none have ever known him as anything but
Shakespeare. His belief that he is the legendary playwright is long standing
and he abides few challenges to that delusion. But if anyone were to know his
true name, it would be Ernie. After all…”
“Ernie’s his sire.”
Finished Michael. “Prolific, isn’t he?”
“Yes, of a sort. But
keep in mind, Michael, that we are a rather inbred species. Nearly every
Nosferatu in these parts is in some way a childe or grandchilde of Mathias.
Nearly every Ventrue is related to Ernie, the Mekhet to Thomas Monroe of Philadelphia, and the Daeva to Guy du Savoy of Richmond. You and I are the rarity in that our bloodlines are not connected to
these elders. My sire, as you’ll recall, was European and Deborah is born out
of west coast Daeva.”
“I’ve heard Max speak
of Monroe, but this Guy character is new to me.”
“He, Francois, and
Michelle came to these parts together…” Solomon paused to try to remember “…a
good while ago, perhaps a century, maybe longer. Guy has been Prince of
Richmond ever since, although it is only himself, his childe, and a tiny
handful of other kindred. Much like Roanoke.”
“Let me guess…”
“Yes, Michelle is
his. Don’t act so surprised. We’re just talking bloodlines. When we get into
allegiances, it gets even more complex. For instance, Max is the childe of
Mathias, but the two are bitter enemies. Lazarus was the childe of Monroe, yet his loyalties were to Mathias, or so it is believed. And that cute
little thing that shares your bed each night is hardly fond of her sire.”
“The last time you
spoke of Sarah, you referred to her as…” Michael paused as he strained to
remember. “…something less than attractive.”
“Touché. And so I
did. But I don’t stand in judgment over you, Michael. I have encountered
numerous kindred whose outer appearance hid appetites and ambitions that would
be unheard of in mortals of their appearance. Besides all that, you should know
by now that what we as vampires regard as ethics and morality are often a far
cry from how mortals define those things. What does it matter if you find her
or those like her attractive? You are a monster who hungers for living blood,
as am I. We are murderers, thieves, rebels, rapists, and tyrants. Is a
pedophile somehow worse?”
“It could be argued.”
Suggested Michael lamely. “Sarah says we need to not lose our humanity entirely
to the monster. It is perhaps unwise to abandon our mortal morality so
quickly.”
“She is right, but
that path is one each of us must forge for ourselves. I kill. I kill in battle.
Occasionally, I kill from feeding. But I am not a mindless heartless killing
machine because I channel much of my energy to making a better world for both
mortals and kindred. If I may be so presumptuous, your sin is lust. And while
you may take many different women into your bed, you treat a small handful with
genuine warmth and affection. You loved Kris. You loved Rebecca. You love Sarah
now and I am certain a part of you still loves Deborah.”
“It frightens me to
some degree that you know me so well.”
Solomon shrugged. “I
will never turn on you. But others will figure this out about you and will use
it against you…Ernie, perhaps worst of all.” Solomon paused. “Considering the
sheer number of personalities rattling around inside that head of his, the
‘Richard’ of whom he spoke could very well have been himself. I will
investigate what he told you about Shakespeare, but I no longer trust Ernie and
neither should you.”
“I don’t, but he
always seems to know things no one else does. Not even Max.”
“Usually,” said
Solomon grimly, “because he’s the one behind it all.”
---
Michael drove to the
Fox Club the next night to the sound of fireworks. The Tidewater’s various July
4th celebrations were in full swing. Despite the festivities
elsewhere, business at the Club was good. Quite a few were sitting outside
watching what fireworks they could see from there as well as setting off a few
of their own. Michael paused to greet a few folks outside and then headed
inside. As he walked in the door, he was almost immediately accosted by Virgil.
“Boss, come with me.”
Michael followed him to the recording room, where the sexual escapades of the
private rooms were captured and then sold for a tidy profit.
“A threesome? Nothing
unusual about that.” Said Michael. “Not the first time some lucky guy or gal
has gone back there with two other people.”
“This is their third
visit to the rooms.”
“Define ‘their’.”
“The girls. They’re
wearing little cat costumes, ears, tails. One’s even leashed with a choker.”
“Well, they’re a
memorable pair. Three times now?”
“Yeah, boss.” Said
the tech handling the recording equipment. He was a club employee named Larry.
Well-paid, but not a thrall. “We’ve got some great footage.”
“That’s cool. So two
little wildcats have made their mark on the Club tonight.”
“Yeah,” said Virgil.
“Thought you might like to try them yourself.”
“I might.” Said
Michael, looking sidelong at his friend. “Is this because of your great fondness
for your boss or because of personal experience?”
Virgil got a sheepish
look on his face. “I was number two.”
Michael laughed.
“Since they come so highly recommended…” he gave Virgil an affectionate slap on
the back. “…I’ll have to see if they’re interested in a fourth round.”
“For what its worth,
Boss,” interjected Larry. “Leigh was looking forward to seeing you tonight.
Spoke to her earlier.”
Michael was looking
forward to seeing Leigh, he admitted to himself. The insanity of the past few
nights had kept him parted from his mortal lover, and while Sarah had been
there to keep him satisfied, he missed Leigh’s touch.
The goofy shit-eating
grin on Virgil’s face brought Michael out of his thoughts. “What’s that for?”
“Don’t think we’ve
seen a foursome.” Virgil suggested.
“Our wildcats verses
Leigh and I? Is that what you have in mind? You’re a mite eager to see that. I
guess they didn’t wear you out enough.”
“Not completely.”
Replied Virgil sheepishly. Despite his demeanor, his shit-eating grin never
left his face.
“If you’re up for
another go around, we could make it five.” Teased Michael.
The look that crossed
Virgil’s face reminded Michael of a small child on Christmas morning. He knew
why. Virgil had been crushing on Leigh for a couple of months now, but hadn’t
dared make a move because of Michael. The thrall bond that held him would never
allow him to do something like that.
“You think she’ll
agree? Leigh, that is?” asked Virgil. “You two are usually a bit more private.
Don’t want to be filmed and all that.”
“I think she’ll be
agreeable to it.” Michael knew she would be. The same thrall bond that kept
Virgil from acting on his attraction to Leigh also kept Leigh from refusing any
request Michael might make of her. “Bigger question is whether those two are up
for it. Three times? They’re bound to be getting tired.”
“Can’t hurt to ask.”
“No, it can’t. And if
a threesome with our little wildcats is going to rake in the dough, imagine an
orgy. Bearing that in mind, I think I’ll waive my usual request for privacy.”
“The boss is going to
let himself be filmed. This will be a July 4th to remember.” Said
Larry.
Michael had refused
to be filmed before because he did not want video recording of his feeding, not
out of any sense of modesty. But he resolved not to feed tonight. This was an
opportunity not to be missed. It would satisfy the lust Ernie had planted in
his mind for multiple partners at once (something he had not done since he fled
Blacksburg), and the profit from the video sale would likely
prove useful in the coming trials.
“Alright, Virgil,
when they emerge, cater to their every whim. You’ll be our point man on this.
Be a bit over the top; make it obvious you want another round but don’t tell
them that. If they refuse or show no interest, so be it. If they respond
positively, call me over and I’ll take it from there.”
“Sure. And if they
say no to you?”
“Again, so be it.”
Said Michael nonchalantly. “We’re not in the business of forcing anybody to do
something they don’t want to do.”
“No, we just sell
video of them fucking to people all over the country without their knowledge.”
Interjected Larry. “What they don’t know don’t hurt them, right Boss?”
“If it does, I don’t
care.” Said Michael. He looked up at the monitor. “They’re getting dressed.
You’re on, Virgil. I’m going to go find Leigh.”
Michael headed back
to the main part of the club, listening to the pounding of the music. In the
few minutes he’d been in the recording room, whatever fireworks the crowd outside
had been watching had ended and now the crowd had come inside to celebrate the
nation’s independence on the dance floor. He scanned the crowd looking for
Leigh, a moment of mirth crossing his mind as he thought about what they were
scheming on this holiday. Michael was certain there was something sacrilegious
about it all.
He spotted Leigh
busing tables across the room. He wandered over and put his arms around her.
"So how is the
lovely Leigh this evening after two days off work and how is her wonderful
little boy?"
She turned in his
embrace and planted a kiss on her cheek, "Mildly annoyed that it wasn't
three days off, especially since tonight is the Fourth and it would have been
nice to take Matthew to the fireworks."
Michael confessed to
himself that he had not put much thought into the staff schedule for this pay
period. After all, what was a mortal holiday like Independence Day to a
vampire? It was just another day to him. Another ordinary Sunday night. Had he
even been conscious of the holiday, he doubted it would have mattered much.
There were far bigger concerns on his mind.
"Sorry." He
said sheepishly. "It was just that two days parted from you was long
enough."
"Flattery will
not help you this time, buster." she teased. "It'll take more than
that."
Out of the corner of
his eye, Michael saw the "cat girls" emerge from the basement.
"Do you see those two over there?"
"Our guests of
honor?" said Leigh sarcastically. "Half the staff has been talking
about them. They've taken three different guys downstairs now." She gave
him a suspicious glance. "What are you scheming? If you want them next,
go. I don't mind that you take other lovers. You know that. You don't need my
permission."
"It was more
your presence I was looking for than your permission."
"Oh,
really?"
"Yeah, I figure
two like that deserve someone with appetites as voracious as theirs appear to
be. You and I makes two and that is better still. Virgil is icing on the
cake."
"He was one of
the three. Damn, he wants to go around again?"
"Actually, he
wants to give it to you." Michael thought, but he decided not to
mention it aloud.
"You want me to
be a part of a mini-orgy? Five people?"
"Two guys, three
girls, yes." Michael summarized.
"Kinky."
she said. Her voice betrayed her interest.
"Finish up here
and join me over at the bar." instructed Michael. He moved away from her
and noted that Virgil had already approached the pair and was speaking to them.
It was only a minute or two before Michael saw Virgil scanning the room for
him. He approached.
"Virgil here
tells us you've got a proposal for us." said the taller of the two. She
was a brunette, with eyes as black as her hair. Slender and fit, Michael was
surprised to note that her attire was somewhat out of place for a hot July
night: greying black jeans and a black tank top. The tank top hung somewhat
loosely upon her, accentuating her ample bust and giving brief flashes of skin
around her waist. Despite the fact that she wore probably twice as much fabric
as anyone else present that night did nothing to hide her sexiness. As the
others had noted, she had accented her appearance with a pair of fuzzy cat ears
on her head and a cat tail tied to her belt.
In her right hand was
a slender chain leash that led to the choker upon her companion. She was
shorter, blond with pink highlights, glasses and blue eyes. Her outfit was more
befitting a summer night: Black jean shorts that stopped just below her crotch,
showing off her toned and tanned thighs. Above that was an azure halter top
that left her shoulders, back, and midriff bare. Like the first, cat ears and
tail complimented her attire.
Michael drank in the
two of them and had to admit that even though he had watched the two of them
briefly on the video monitors, they were in some ways more sexy clothed than
nude. They seemed to enjoy his stare and it took Michael a bit to realize that
he had not spoken his answer to their query for nearly 30 seconds.
Michael regained his
composure and they giggled at him. "Well," Michael began, cranking up
his vampiric allure to 11 as he did so, "you two have broken our record
for number of visits downstairs." The effect of his supernatural charm was
immediate and obvious. Both of them started to look as hungry for him as he had
for them a moment earlier.
"Congratulations!"
he continued. "It's not often we get guests with your...how do I put
this...appetite and stamina."
"We're glad
you're impressed." said the tall brunette. "I'm Nikki and this is
Felicia. She only speaks when I let her, which isn't often. Right, slave?"
"Yes,
mistress." said Felicia sheepishly.
"Michael."
said Michael in introduction. "You've met Virgil and the buxom beauty
walking towards us is my girlfriend Leigh." Leigh came up beside Michael
and took him in arm.
Nikki twirled her
finger in a circular gesture meant to encompass all five of them. Even without
words, it was obvious she got the idea.
"Exactly,"
said Michael. "if you're up to it, of course. Three times with three
different men takes it out of you, I'm sure."
"Darling, you're
the one we've been looking for all night." said Nikki. Felicia concurred
by running her tongue across her teeth hungrily.
---
Shakespeare was never
a very difficult vampire to find. His usual haunt was the New Colony Theater in Portsmouth and that was where Solomon began his search. There
was no show scheduled and no rehearsals on this holiday night, so the place was
dark and empty. Solomon knew that did not necessarily keep Shakes from the
place. It was known that he would spend time there, dressing in costume, and
acting out scenes from his namesake's plays.
Solomon found the
stage entrance unlocked and darted inside. Once indoors, his vampiric hearing
could make out two voices, too muffled by distance to make out much of what
they were saying. He made his way through the maze of dressing rooms and prop
closets towards the stage and the voices became clearer.
"...the trap is
sprung. Both will have their fall from grace tonight!" declared one.
"Michelle will..." Then silence. Solomon had been detected.
No matter. He was the
regent and had no reason, he felt, to fear discovery. Although he had to admit
disappointment at not learning whatever plan Michelle had cooked up. Solomon
continued forward, more boldly this time and stepped out on stage.
Shakespeare stood
there alone, a single spotlight from above providing the only light in the
darkened and abandoned theatre. Solomon looked about and could see or sense no
one else. Knowing that Shakes was a childe of Ernie and clearly infected with
similar madness, Solomon supposed the two voices he'd heard could have been
Shakes talking to himself.
"Regent,
welcome." said Shakes with an exaggerated bow of courtesy.
"Evening."
said Solomon curtly. He continued to look about, trying to locate the second
person he thought he'd heard.
"I am alone, I
assure you. Practicing my lines." said Shakespeare, divining his intent.
"It was a most
curious scene you were acting out." said Solomon boldly. "Not quite
your usual flowery archaic language and not, to my knowledge, the subject
matter of any of your plays."
Shakes frowned.
"What you heard was not your concern." he said.
"Perhaps not,
but the rumors I have heard very much so are."
"Lazarus."
sighed Shakes. "I wondered how long it would take for those jealous of my
gifts to make such accusation. Am I now the murderer and you are come to meet
justice?"
"I have come to
seek the truth."
"So noble your
intention. And yet, you should know the folly of seeking truth amidst beasts of
such deceit. What matter truth to us? So who makes this accusation? Michelle?
Max? Or some other."
"The one who
knows you best of all."
"And thus you
doubt not his word. You came with all the truth you needed. But I wonder, Lord
Regent. Will consigning me to the fires end this great turmoil? Will this
so-called justice end our city's troubles?"
"We both know
better." said Solomon. "Nor do I place great faith in the word of one
such as your sire. So I come to you to hear what you would tell of the night
Lazarus died."
"Walk with me
then and I will speak." With a mighty leap, Shakes jumped from the stage
to the side opposite the orchestra pit. He then made his way slowly up the
center aisle towards the front door of the theatre.
Solomon followed.
Shakes said nothing as he passed the double swinging doors into the atrium of
the theatre. Solomon was a few paces behind and followed him.
Shakes paused inside
the atrium. Solomon stopped short. A sound. They were no longer alone. A single
figure dropped down from the balcony steps, blade in hand. The front doors
burst open, and a dozen figures with bats and clubs charged inside to surround
them. And then at the last came one dressed as a bishop of the church.
"Lazarus
died." said Shakespeare. "And now his heirs will claim his throne.
But only once his enemies have been dealt with. And standing between us and
them is you."
The Bishop strode
forward. "Kill him!"
Solomon drew his Super
Blackhawk revolver. The big gun spoke three or was it four times before the
blow of a baseball bat knock it from his hand. No matter. The great hunting
knife came next. He slashed and slashed. The thralls backed away, clutching
gashed arms and throats. They died one by one, and yet more came.
The knife vanished
from his hands, but again no matter. His Gangrel protean sharpened his claws to
razor perfection next and tore into flesh. He lost count of those who fell. He
also lost count of the blows from his enemies. Ribs cracked, bones broken, and
the blood stitched them whole again, but with each healing he weakened.
All in all, the three
vampires stayed aloof, letting their thralls do the dangerous task. When the
hammer blow of a club dropped him to his knees, he saw the Bishop nod to his
blade-wielding companion. Solomon then recognized Hiroshi Takagi as he stepped
forward, katana glinting in the twilight.
Hiroshi paused just
out of reach. Solomon took that moment to assess his surroundings. The bodies
were heaped around him. Many lay dead at his feet and the rest were wounded to
varying degrees.
His eyes then fell
upon Hiroshi. The Japanese businessman/samurai stood stock still, his eyes
burning with intensity. But there was also fear. Hiroshi could see the bodies;
he could hear the gasps of the dying. And although he tried to hide it, Solomon
could see it.
Solomon let out a
bestial roar and lunged at Hiroshi. Despite his readiness, the shout took
Hiroshi by surprise. Solomon swiped with his claws. Hiroshi parried with his
sword feebly and the blow nearly knocked the blade from his hands. Solomon's
other hand swung upward; Hiroshi saw it coming and darted backwards, falling
off balance.
But it was the last
desperate attack of a dying animal. Solomon's blows were powerful but clumsy.
And now that he had fallen out of reach of the Gangrel, Hiroshi could see it.
His fear vanished and he came to his feet almost methodically.
"My turn."
he said coldly.
Hiroshi charged in,
thrusting the blade before him. Solomon deftly parried the blow and swiped
again at Hiroshi's face. Another clumsy strike; the swordsman deftly dodged the
swing and spun about, cutting low across Solomon's gut. The blade cut deep and
Solomon's bowels spilled out upon the floor.
Hiroshi stepped back,
satisfied with his work. Solomon staggered as his vampire body struggled to
regenerate such a massive wound. Depleted of blood and its power, Solomon
dropped to his knees.
"Take his head
and finish this." said the Bishop.
"I forbid
it." said a new voice. Solomon blinked a couple of time as he felt torpor
come upon him. Ernie?
The next thing
Solomon felt was his face hitting the floor and then he knew no more.
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