by Sophia North
Horatio took centre stage, cleared his throat and began. "Thank you for having me here tonight - I realise for many of you, my presence is not welcome. Yet, as Dante put it so eloquently, albeit in different words - now is the time for us to work together in order to preserve what has taken centuries to build. Human world, Vampyre world - we have lived in relative peace and prosperity for too long to let the whims of a mad vamp destroy it all."
He paused, curious to see the reaction to his impassioned speech. The roar of approval that followed was inspiring. Every vampyre pounded the floor with their boots in a form of applause. Once it died down, Horatio continued.
"I am pleased to report, after hours of testing and countless failures, we have created a kind of vaccination/cure which will protect any vampyre who takes it from current and future blood attacks on their systems."
The theatre was silent. Not the reaction Horatio expected.
" 'ow do we know like, yew and yer kind ain't the ones responsible-like - fer everyting?" A heavily accented Cockney voice called out from the crowd.
Horatio held a hand up to shield his eyes from the spotlights. "Yes, well Mr.? ..."
"'Shit-for-brains but has a point'," another vamp filled in, causing a ruckus of guffaws to ensue.
"Yew can call me Puck - me friends do. And ain't meanin' to be disrespectful-like, jest ain't it a tad coinky-dink yew have a cure an all," the original questioner eventually answered.
"Puck then, I'll be honest with you - I haven't ruled the possibility out, I mean in terms of your doubt about human involvement in the creation of the ah, for want of a better description, virus your kind was infected with recently. But I can assure you - all of you - my work is of the highest ethics, my solution seeks only to serve you best."
"Alright den, I beliebe ya, er Sir ... Horatio, sir."
"Oh my good fellow, please - Horatio between friends."
Simone had listened intently to what Horatio said and during his assurances about the vaccine protecting against all future attacks her senses perked up. He'd been dishonest about the facts.
"Vlad," she whispered through firmly pressed lips.
"Shut. It," he replied behind a clenched smile, clapping along with the others following the recent exchange. She did as commanded. What other option did she have?
After the applause died down, Dante again took command. "Next order of business: Fae relations."
"Fuck the fae. Bunch of pixie cunts, only ever interested in what serves them best. Ye canna trust'em, would trade their own kin and then turn round an blame ye for the crime," another anonymous voice announced.
"Hamish, mate. You really need to get over '66 - you lost, they won. We need their help now - end of," Dante responded irritably. "Roxy, your report."
A gorgeous brunette in an electric blue dress slit to the thigh, sauntered onto the stage, with each sway of her hips receiving an appreciative roar from the male audience. When she reached Dante who, despite his best efforts, could not help smiling at the stir her attractiveness garnered. She ran her hands up his chest, into his thick chestnut hair and kissed him passionately.
Simone did not react well to the spectacle and if not for Vlad's very firm 'stay' and his even firmer grip, she may have very well embarrassed herself.
Once finished taking her fill, Roxy stepped away and ran a provocative finger around her blood red lips. "I've always enjoyed the taste of power," she purred seductively, then grabbed Dante's crotch and finished with, "but love the feel of it more. Especially from one with whom I've not had the pleasure to fuck ... yet."
Dante knew what role he had to play in return but was hesitant to act with Simone only a few feet away. Suddenly the doors to the theatre burst open and a beaten, dishevelled vamp came rushing through and shouted: "Under attack!"
"Vlad, get Simone and Horatio out of here, now!"
"Noooo, Dante. Waaaiiitttt!" Simone screamed in vain, but she never got another chance to try and speak to him again. Vlad did not hesitate for a second in carrying out his friend's order. She and Horatio were whisked away immediately. The vision of a theatre flooded with Anton's vamps was the final image seared into her memory.
Chapter Twenty-Four
DRAPED IN SILVER chains, Dante was led into the coliseum, destined for his long foretold confrontation with Anton. Not that he had the first clue about the importance of the upcoming encounter. Ironically, Dante was more pleased that his scheme to lure Samsun from the shadows had gone according to plan.
More or less.
What he hadn't been expecting was a full-scale coordinated attack. And in retrospect, he reckoned he had young Peterson to thank for that. After fighting like hell to make sure his brothers-in-arms were not all slaughtered because of his error in judgment, Dante ended up surrounded and taken hostage by a group of Anton's followers.
The scene in the Council chambers was quite a sight to behold. Anton, sprawled out on the Grand Elder's chair, was surrounded by scores of casually disposed corpses. The stench of death and mayhem hung in the air.
Dante watched Anton surreptitiously as he was dragged towards the main dais. It was apparent the vamp had been feeding – over-feeding, more like – as he sat with a lethargic look on his face, his legs draped casually over one of the thick arm rests. He gazed up at the ceiling, absent-mindedly running a hand through his long, blonde hair.
Seated on one side of Anton, in the chair of the First Elder, was Simmons. He nodded at Dante's guards before they threw him down in front of the smirking vampyre.
"Welcome, Dante Polidori. We've been waiting patiently to have a little talk with you," the-husk-with-a-voice Simmons crooned with an air of superiority.
"I did hear the rumours about your miraculous rebirth as a Believer, Simmons. How predictable to discover your emaciated fingers all over this madness," Dante returned, refusing to appear daunted by him - which he really, really wasn't.
"Yes, it is all a little mad and miraculous, I'll grant you that," Simmons replied. "Unfortunately, blood is always spilt during any revolution. We are no different in that regard."
"Your job as an Elder was to uphold the integrity of the Council. To maintain order and ensure a terrible revolt like Haan's could never happen again. Not bring about the destruction of everything Lowerton ever stood for!" Dante shouted back.
Simmons shifted forward in his chair and scowled back at Dante. "We both know the Council became lazy... weak!" he hissed. "Any fool could see it. The old ways could no longer be relied upon to protect us. Change was required."
"But how is this an improvement?" Dante challenged. "Pitting vampyre against vampyre. So many killed and to what end?"
"Oh, examples must be set," Simmons replied, waving his hand indifferently. "A few sacrifices are necessary to bring others into line."
"You're a cold-blooded bastard, Simmons," Dante growled darkly. "There are plenty of vampyres out there who will never join this heresy."
"Spare me your poetic notions," Simmons snapped back. "Those who refuse to bow down to Anton's leadership will be rounded up and executed," he continued, "As we speak, the blood banks are being closed and teams sent out to capture those with dreams of a different future. It is to be expected a few will rebel and we are prepared for this eventuality."
Dante lunged forward, appalled by his callousness. Jerked back into place by his chains, he glowered at Simmons.
Leaning back in his chair, Simmons continued: "Many will look at you to lead them," he said, with an unpleasant grin. "You're no fool, Dante Polidori. It would be completely reckless to try and fight. How much death are you willing to be responsible for? Tell these stragglers to return to Lowerton and accept Anton as Supreme Ruler. I promise many of their old privileges will be restored to them. Otherwise, they will be treated as Rogues."
"What makes you think I have that kind of influence?" Dante shrugged but felt anything but casual about the situation. In a low voice, he added. "And if you really expect me to give in to your demands, yo
u're more delusional than rumoured - and that takes some beating."
Simmons, nonplussed by the insult, sneered. "Your resistance will be nothing more than an act of futility. We have already won. Lowerton is ours!"
"Lowerton is yours only by temporarily dismantling the council and deluding your followers with flights of fancy. There are many who will demand the reinstatement of the Elders, and you will soon discover holding Lowerton is not as easy as taking it by devious means."
"Threatening words, Dante Polidori. Perhaps you need a lesson on how to show proper respect to your superiors."
"You're a coward, Simmons. I'd cherish the moment you'd have the guts to leave your pedestal and show me how superior you really are."
The mood in the coliseum, packed with Anton's followers, shifted. Dante's threat hung in the air, inviting a reaction.
But Dante wasn't really interested in what Simmons might or might not do. He'd only provoked him to try and figure out what the hell Anton was going to do. The vamp continued to sit in a moody silence, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around him. Dante needed to hear Anton speak if he wanted to gain any true assessment of the situation.
Finally, Anton stirred, but as he did so, Dante spotted a dark shadowy form appear beside his chair for a second. Bowing his head to this presence, Anton appeared to listen intently until it disappeared. With a short, piercing laugh, which sounded like nails being scraped down a chalk board, he rose and approached Dante.
The entire coliseum went quiet.
"Simmons, enough of this silliness," Anton drawled, his tall, languid frame slowly weaving its way down from the dais. "There is no need to argue with Dante. As he shall soon see, fate has other plans."
"So, you still possess a tongue," Dante replied sardonically, "I was starting to believe Simmons did all the talking for you."
Anton laughed. "Dante, how you amuse me. So hell-bent on self-destruction, and yet, I still find myself wanting to help you. I suppose it's the remnants of our friendship that softens my heart."
"Our friendship can still be if you leave Simmons to his inevitable downfall by restoring the rule of the Elders. I promise to do everything in my power to help you afterwards."
Anton started to laugh again. It was the same mad laughter as before and Dante noticed several vampyres take a half-step back in fear.
"The old ways of the Elders are finished," he announced, "There was too much bickering and back stabbing, don't you think? It's why Grand Elder Rolfe had to die. Marcion, well he was just for fun."
Anton sidled up beside Dante. "And you should have seen Rolfe as he died! He was pathetic, begging for mercy. He would have sacrificed you all to save his own life."
"Then our friendship is over and you are beyond saving," Dante decreed. "You've admitted to killing the Grand Elder and for this you must be punished."
"Punished?" Anton turned theatrically to Simmons in mock-surprise. "Did you ever hear such effrontery? He's got balls, I suppose."
"We should dispose of him, Anton," Simmons eagerly encouraged. "What good is he to us?"
"Ah! There are things even you, my dear Simmons, can't begin to understand," Anton derided. "Dante just needs a little convincing, is all. And let's be honest, we've always known it would come down to giving him that extra little nudge."
"The only thing I'm convinced of is that you will pay for your crimes," Dante responded forcefully.
"Come now, Dante! Even if you were right, who could punish me? I'm more powerful than any vampyre who's ever existed. I'm here to lead us into a new age!"
"Bold declaration, mate."
"And I agree with you," Anton replied, almost sounding reasonable. "But it is possible, Dante! And there is a special place reserved for you. You shall have what I have. Forget about the Council. Forget about the past. Can you deny that you too have tired of the Council's backward ways?"
"But this is not the answer."
"Look inside yourself, Dante. You know I speak the truth. Join me."
"If only you could hear yourself, Anton. You speak like a madman."
"But I live like a King!"
For the first time Dante noticed specks of scarlet on Anton's white shirt. Blood, no doubt.
"You're a self-confessed murderer," Dante said. "And now, you have begun to kill humans - and in the sanctity of the council chamber, no less. Such grandiose behaviour merely goes to show the depths of your depravity."
"Ha! Begun killing humans? Why, Dante, I've been killing humans for months. And none of you Watchers could stop me."
"So it was you!" Dante accused. "Yet another sacred rule broken."
"Humans are our rightful prey," Anton replied with authority. "I'm returning our world back to the natural order of things. Dante, I can release you from all your stupid obligations. You will be free again!"
"Not interested," Dante said determinedly. "What you propose is sheer lunacy."
Anton glowered at Dante. His unruly long, blonde hair surrounded his face like the mane of a lion. His large eyes were red-rimmed and had more than a glint of madness in them - they practically raged with it. Tales of Anton's possession were no longer without credit.
Anton turned from Dante and moved behind the tall chair of the Grand Elder. Bending slightly, he seemed to converse with someone, nodding his head in agreement. Finished with his seemingly one-sided conversation, he sat back down on his throne.
"With whom do you consult?" Dante called out. "An apparition created by your fevered mind?"
"No apparition," Anton smiled. "I speak with gods."
"Devils more like," Dante muttered.
"Very well, Dante," he sighed. "You don't wish to play ball. Perhaps you might have a re-think once you see your father."
"My father?"
"Bring him!" Anton ordered, clicking his fingers.
Moments later Alessio Polidori appeared in shackles guarded by two powerful looking vampyres. At first glance Dante could scarcely believe his eyes. His father appeared so weak and emaciated, he was almost unrecognizable. His head hung loosely to one side, as if he no longer had the strength to support it.
"Father!" Dante shouted.
"It's no use, Alessio cannot respond much anymore," Anton informed him, "Daddy's developed a rather severe drug habit. I keep telling him to clean-up his act but it just falls on deaf ears. If he maintains this filthy habit, I swear he might only have a few days left. Maybe not even as long as that."
Simmons joined Anton in a sick laughter, as Dante felt hands on his arms, holding him back. As if the chains weren't enough.
"Father!" Dante shouted again, "What have they done to you?"
This time his father managed to raise his head and squint in Dante's direction. "Battle, son," he gurgled, "our first one...together..." he muttered, as his head drooped downwards again.
"Listen to the nonsense he speaks!" laughed Anton.
Unable to control himself, Dante broke free. His anger so great the chains were snapped from the hands of his guards. "Anton!" he roared. "Release my father at once! You're killing him!"
Dante fought viciously, head butting two of the guards holding him back. But it was no use - more and more of Anton's followers came forward to clasp his arms, legs - anywhere they could grab hold of him, they did.
"Take him away!" Anton stood up and shouted at the guards, who in turn dragged Alessio from the chambers.
Anton sat down again and draped himself over his chair, a menacing grin appearing on his face. "I'm still going to give you a chance, Dante. You know, to think things over."
"I will kill you," Dante panted in rage.
"You can try," Anton chuckled. "But here's the thing, I really do want to help you to see the light. So, I propose this: as long as your father lives, I will be prepared to share my power with you. And the two of us will rule the world together!"
Dante glared back. So angry, words simply failed him.
"However," Anton continued. "When poor old dad dies - and believe me, D
ante, he does not have long - should you still resist me, then sadly, I will be forced to kill you too."
"Then kill me now because I will never join you."
"Oh, you're just angry. What a temper you have! But once you calm down and think things over, I'm sure you'll see it my way."
"Never."
"Also," Anton paused to press a theatrical finger to his lips, "about your precious Simone. She really must go, Dante. I sent Samsun twice to take care of this little problem for me but he has continued to fail. Rest assured, he's been punished for it."
"Keep her out of this!" Dante shouted.
"Oh please, she is but a poor replacement for Zara. And I know all about her helping you access your visionary powers. It served our purpose for awhile to allow this but now her presence will only confuse matters. So, I will deal with her soon enough, my friend," Anton grinned. "Just as I dealt with Zara."
"You bastard! You evil fucker!" Dante bellowed, trying with all his might to break free from his vamp-linked chains. "You've given me so many reasons to kill you!"
"Ha! So many reasons. Comical!" Anton shrieked. "Guards! Take him away, beat him to within an inch of death and then...throw the sad fool out!"
Chapter Twenty-Five
"YOU'RE SAFE!" SIMONE exclaimed, when Dante walked into the library. "Thank goodness! I've been so worried."
Rushing to him, she flung her arms around his broad shoulders and pressed herself against the length of his body.
Despite his foul mood, Dante hugged her back, grateful for the spontaneous show of affection. "I'm fine, love," he murmured into her hair. "A few lingering bumps and bruises, nothing too serious."
"Do you need to feed. Here," she raised her arm, "I don't care anymore about what it means - drink. Heal."
Dante kissed her offered forearm and gently lowered it. "Simone, there is no need. Really, I'm fine. Where's Vlad?"
"Out searching for you. Did you really think I'd let him stay here with me after everything that happened?"
His brows drew together in a frown. "No, I expected him to do what he was told - protect you from harm."
