by Jones, L. A.
Maurice stood up straight. "The President's door? Why?"
Booth scowled once again. "Why doesn't concern you. Will you do it?"
Maurice hesitated and the air grew thick from the tension. He then looked John Wilkes Booth in the eye and held out his hand.
It hadn't been too hard to do what Booth had requested and the dollar was a welcome addition to their meager wages. Maurice smiled as he thought about what he and Wade could buy. Maybe some new clothes or even a woman or two. He grinned crudely but then a neigh of a horse caught his attention. He was oblivious to the performance going on but since he was standing so close to the door he could still hear what went on outside of it. He squinted his eyes when he saw Booth slip in, still dressed in his dandy outfit. What's he doing here? But then he remembered Booth asking about the President appearing at the theater. He turned his head to look at the devil so to speak. He scowled as he saw the tall, dark bearded, thin man laugh right next to his short and stout wife. My father would be about his age, Maurice thought grimly, if he had lived that is but losing mother and the plantation was too much for him. All his dreams, his hopes, and plans all wasted because a bunch of heathens wanted rights. He died a broken man while those ungrateful animals escaped. And there sits the man responsible, laughing and sitting with his wife as if he had not a care in the world while both my parents rot in their graves.
Maurice grumbled for probably the hundredth time at the unfairness of it all. He felt so consumed by hate that he almost didn't see the man creeping up behind President Lincoln. What the hell? Maurice almost strained his eyesight trying to determine who it was. Soon enough he was able to see and determine the figure of Booth. What's he doing?
Slowly, Booth came up behind Lincoln and raised his arm. The gun in his hand was so small that Maurice almost didn't see it. Time seemed to slow down as Maurice watched Booth hold the derringer two inches away from the President and pull the trigger. Maurice gasped as several people in the theatre screamed. He then saw Booth knife one of Lincoln's soliders and jump from the balcony. His spur got caught on the flag and almost tore it in half. He landed on the stage with a loud crack and turned to the people who watched in horror. "Sic semper tyrannis!" Booth bellowed before barreling down the stage and past Maurice. He stared at Booth who ran towards the door and out to freedom. Maurice breathed heavily as he pressed himself against the wooden wall. The spy hole, he realized, the spy hole I made for him was how Booth was able to find out if the President was there or not. I helped him find his target. I helped Booth assassinate the President!
It was barely two days after they buried Wade when they fired Maurice. It's just as well, Maurice grumbled, I never wanted to stay in that place only now what do I do? I have no job and no money. This is what he thought of constantly as he walked in the rain. He was cold, hungry, and bitter. Most of all though, he missed his brother. He missed talking to Wade and he missed having a constant companion. Now I am all alone.
He heard a loud screech and turned. He then saw a huge horse and cart barreling towards him. In haste, he jumped aside and tried to aim for the nearest store's porch. Instead, he slipped and fell in to a huge mud puddle. He picked himself up now soaked to the bone, dripping with mud, and bombarded by laughter. What do I do? He asked himself for probably the hundredth time. What do I do?
"Hey there boy, hold up a minute."
Maurice turned and felt a wave of déjà vu. Instead of Booth who stood before him, there stood a stranger. Still the clothes were of the same finery and the expression just as sinister.
"Yeah," Maurice barked, "what do you want?"
The stranger didn't answer at least not right away. "You're a pretty boy aren't you?"
Maurice's eyes widened. "Huh?"
"Such a pretty boy you are, so pretty and beautiful," the stranger's face seemed almost Cheshire cat like in its madness. "So young a boy you are. So young and pretty."
Maurice tried to back away but the stranger advanced towards him. It was only until they were half way in the alley when Maurice saw the silvery glint of a knife. Oh shit!
"So pretty, and so young. You are so perfect," the stranger pulled out the knife that it seemed to shine in the moonlight like lightning. "Just perfect."
Maurice had lived amongst the back alley of Virginia long enough to defend himself in a fight. The stranger caught him off guard, he moved in fast like a thunder storm and struck Maurice like a lightning bolt would strike a house. Maurice's insides burst with fire and blood blossomed all over his fingers. He tried to scream for help but the stranger clasped a hand over his mouth.
"Now die pretty boy! Die nice and slow," the stranger cackled softly as he raised the knife again.
Maurice's eyesight started to weaken and all he could do was stare at the knife as it came down again. He shut his eyes and seemed to resign himself to his fate. He prepared for the blow which oddly never came. He opened one eye slowly and saw a young man, the same age as Wade, grip the man's arm and toss him away. The stranger advanced again but the young man causally gripped him by the throat. The stranger struggled in his grip like a nine year old child caught in a candy store. Then Maurice swore he could see the young man smile and bend towards the stranger's neck. It was to the sound of the stranger's screams when he finally slipped into a deep sleep.
Maurice truly didn't expect to live so he was surprised when he finally woke up. He found himself in a strange but luxurious dark room. Oddly, the room had no windows so it seemed more like a red stripped and black velvet cell. Maurice gingerly touched his wound only to discover it was gone. He stood up in confusion and felt even more stunned when he realized he felt good. He felt strong and healthy, in spite of being stabbed and almost dying. He touched his face and marveled at how cold he felt.
"What has happened to me?" Maurice said aloud.
"Me. I happened to you."
Maurice spun around towards the voice. He was amazed to see the man who saved him leaning against the door. Strange, I didn't even hear him come in.
"You? You saved me? How? Why?" Maurice had almost been killed by a man who found him attractive so he was weary of other men who came near him.
The young man shrugged. "I couldn't let you die in the street now could I?"
Maurice spat. "You don't even know me so why would you bother?"
The young man shrugged again. "If I told you my name would that change things?"
Maurice narrowed his eyes. "It might."
The young man raised his head to look Maurice straight in the eye. "My name is Keon."
Maurice awoke screaming after a night of dreadful dreams. He shrieked even further to discover where he was that he was in a closed coffin. "What?! What's going on?" He placed his hands against his the lid of the coffin and pounded with both his fist. Amazingly, the lid came off with so much as a hesitation. I guess they didn't bury me deep. Maurice couldn't help but feel a bit relieved but also a bit insulted. He pushed open the lid and sat up. It was pitch black and his eyes darted around fiercely.
"So you are awake? About time."
Maurice sat up further and saw Keon sitting on a tombstone. "You?! What are you doing here?!"
Keon shrugged and then awareness began to dawn upon Maurice.
"You!" He pointed accusingly at Keon, "you did this to me! You buried me alive."
Keon smirked. "You aren't alive though at least not anymore."
Maurice shot to his feet. "What?"
Keon stood up. "You are dead Maurice McAlester, your body and your place is no longer amongst the living."
Maurice rang his shaking fingers through his hair. "But then how can I be here?"
Keon took a deep breath. "Because you are now undead."
"Undead?"
"Yes," Keon said in an almost serpent like manner. His smile and long teeth seemed to couple that comparison. "You are one of the undead. You are a vampire!"
"A what?" Maurice sputtered, "I am what?"
Keon scowled. "You...are...a...vampi
re."
"What's a vampire?"
Keon rolled his eyes at Maurice's naivety. "A member of the undead. A member of the immortal and superior race. A creature who drinks the blood of others to sustain their own life and eternal youth."
Maurice felt his strength leave him, and sank into his coffin. "I don't understand. I don't understand." It was what he kept repeating until Keon grew tired.
He then grabbed Maurice and hauled him out of the grave. Maurice marveled at how easily Keon picked him up. He was even further shocked when Keon kept lifting him until his feet dangled above his head. "How?" Maurice stammered, "how can you do this?"
"One of the benefits of being a vampire," Keon grinned before throwing Maurice over his shoulder, "is being the strongest creature in the history of creation."
Maurice had barely picked himself up off the ground before Keon was beside him. "You know, considering this is your new life I don't think the name Maurice McAlester fits any longer. I think it's better you start your vampire life with a new name and identity."
He yanked Maurice's head back and looked straight into his blackening eyes. "So from now on boy, your name is Tavis." He then let go of Maurice's head which went down hard onto the ground. Keon then stood up and kicked Maurice onto his back. "And you belong to us."
"Do it again!" The General barked, "and I mean now!"
Tavis collapsed onto the cold dirt ground with half of the other trainees.
"But we have been doing this for the past two days!" One of them whined, "can't we at least rest?"
The General didn't say anything instead he just sped towards the speaker and ripped his throat out. The other soldiers did their best but one didn't succeed in stifling his gasp. His body then joined the first one in the pile.
The General then turned his stony cold and emotionless mask of a face to look at the other trainees.
After a few tense seconds was when he barked,"again!"
The trainees then snapped back into position.
"First stance!"
All the trainees stood erect, none of them daring to blink.
"Second stance." They spread their feet apart and held out their hands.
"Third stance." All the trainees closed their eyes.
"Now visualize a fog, thick and gray, rolling amongst the hills of the mountains. Then visualize your body and being becoming one with the fog. Imagine, visualize, and become."
In spite of the soft images the General described, the feeling and sensation of tuning into one of their vampire abilities was a rough one. Tavis felt his body being pricked with a thousand pins, and his skin melting away like wax on a candle. He had to stay focused on the end result or else he would lose his concentration. If that he could look forward to starving for the rest of the week. Such was the price of failure in the ranks of the Sovereign's army. He endured five minutes of this agonizing sensation until he felt his body almost float away. When he became conscious again was when he found himself floating amongst the field they were practicing in. It's happened, I have become mist...again. Along with the fellow trainees, Tavis floated and rolled amongst the field observing everything that happened. He observed the ants moving in the grass from the bats flying in the night sky. We have company, Tavis thought grimly.
After two more grueling hours was when they were all finally dismissed. Tavis then dragged his almost broken body back to the barracks. His coffin was there and according to Keon he couldn't sleep without the coffin he was buried in. Speak of the devil, Tavis thought as he saw Keon out of the corner of his eye. He was in one the tents having an argument with another one of the commandeers.
"I have brought more than enough recruits for you. You don't need more!" Keon bellowed.
Tavis cringed at the thought of more recruits being brought to the camps. If he had thought his human life had been tough it was nothing in comparison to his vampire one. Since the day Keon had taught him to control his thirst, he had been stuck at this training camp. Training for a war he didn't really believe would ever really come. Although the training had helped him become aware of and control all his vampire abilities it didn't erase all the pain and suffering he had been forced to endure.
Or the indignity of my enforced enslavement, Tavis thought bitterly, funny how I finally understand how our slaves felt and why they longed for emancipation. The fact that he sympathized with his former slaves, the architects of his father's ruin, was enough to make Tavis want to throw himself head first into his coffin.
How much more of this can I endure? How much more must I endure?
Gritting his teeth, Tavis decided then and there that he would fund a way out.
"Rome!" The General cried, "what are you doing here?"
Rome chuckled as he strolled into the camps. "Surely you can find a kinder welcome for your superior."
The General's face twisted as if he was trying to stop himself from scowling. He just held out his hand to shake Rome's. Rome took it with enthusiasm.
"If I may be so bold sir, may I inquire as what you are you doing here?" The General tried to force his rather uncooperative face to smile.
"I am here to drop off the Sovereign's latest plans," Rome said cheerfully as he brandished a roll of parchment. "I have also brought along my platoon. It's been years since we pitted our soldiers against one another. I think it's high time to see how much they have advanced or learned."
Keon winced, he had just been arguing with the general about adding on ranks and didn't relish the opportunity to further the General's arguments. These "tests" as they were called frequently caused many of the vampire trainees to die. Which means I will have to bring in more soldiers, Keon thought bitterly, I love the thought of being able to advance my career but for the sake of God, this is getting boring.
He sighed heavily as he ran his fingers through his hair. But what can I do? If I don't stick to this assignment and excel at it how will the Sovereign take notice of my skills? How will I be able to advance my position? I will be stuck doing this shit forever unless...
Keon cast one lingering glance towards the General who was still talking to Rome. Rome, however, didn't seem to be paying much attention as he watched his platoon march into the camp. Keon, however, kept staring at the General with a sinister grin growing on his face.
Jaxon looked at the area with trepidation as he pulled the horses' rein. He hated the fact that he was in charge of hauling some of Rome's personal possessions but he knew better than to argue.
He tried to keep the cart as still as he could but since it was nighttime he couldn't see the path that clearly. Inevitably, the cart stumbled over a tree branch.
"Jaxon?! What's going on? Where are we?"
Jaxon sighed heavily as he stopped the cart. He then threw the blanket back as he stared at the long haired red headed, freckle faced, young man lying on the hard wooden surface.
"It's nothing Henry," Jaxon said reassuringly, "go back to sleep."
Henry's blue eyes caught Jaxon's for a very solid minute before Jaxon sighed again. "We are just stopping at another encampment."
"You mean for the night?"
Jaxon shrugged. "I suspect it will be longer."
Henry snorted. "I guess you were right it was nothing."
Jaxon chuckled. "Told you."
It took only twenty minutes for Rome's tent to be set up. Such is the benefit of vampire speed, Keon laughed to himself. He was lying against one of the trees, carving an apple with a knife. He kept his eyes on Rome's soldiers as they hauled their coffins out of the carts. Keon was stunned that none of the soldiers spoke to each other as they laid out their own coffins to sleep. They all moved mechanically and without any hesitation.
"It's my training methods," Rome said, "they install a certain discipline amongst my soldiers." Keon shot to his feet and sheathed his knife. Rome didn't seem to notice, he just gazed around at the members of his army. He stared at them like a parent would stare at a child. "While most people just jump into the 'tuning their
vampire abilities' shtick I prefer other ways of doing things."
Keon raised an eyebrow.
"At first we start with the starvation for every day they starve the vampire ages more and more. Usually it's just a method of disguising themselves amongst the local. However, their looks are not the only things aging. Their bodies age as well and their reactions slow as well."
"This," Rome added with a smile before leaning against the tree, "is when we go into the flaming hot coal methods.'
"The what?" Keon asked.
"I force all my recruits in their aged forms to walk across a bed of hot coals." Rome was grinning like a crazed jackal. "It does wonders for their reflexes in spite of their aging. It also helps eliminate the weak links faster."
Keon caught himself staring at Rome as he rambled on about his sadistic tendencies. Good God! The man is insane. How and why on Earth would the Sovereign bother keeping such a crockpot?
He knew that Rome was one of the chief "inquisitors" that help eradicate the Witches but other than that Keon wasn't aware of any outstanding service he had done for the Sovereign. Maybe he just keeps him on out of pity.
"Henry, you must eat something." Jaxon tried to feebly push the spoon into his mouth.
Henry just turned his head away.
"Yes Henry, you must eat." They both turned around to see the grinning demonic face of Rome. "I mean how else can I keep feeding off of you unless you build your strength up?"
Henry muttered as he laid his head down. "I believe you just answered your own question."
Rome's grin didn't break, he merely just pushed Jaxon out of the tent and yanked the chain forwards. Henry's flesh burned against the ruins carved into the neck brace right before Rome sunk his teeth in.
Jaxon wanted to rush right in and save his friend but the last time he did that Henry had been whipped within an inch of his life. Still it was struggle to hold himself back. Jaxon kicked up a whole slew of dirt as he walked away from the tent.
