by Tiana Laveen
“Though it is always my mission to be the best leader that I can be to my subjects, the issue of matrimony is one of our most sacred and important binds, not only for our people, but for our very own happiness.”
Several of the judges nodded in agreement.
“The Marseille Clan has been rapidly dwindling due to the ideology that we must mate and marry only fellow Pure Breeds. Even if I were in agreement with that, the selections are quite limited. In my case, for instance, I would have to go outside of France to find a non-family member who would be eligible for marriage. I am not homosexual, so pairing with a male is not desirable for me. Furthermore, I wish to have my own offspring, which is expected. Though incestual relationships have been widely accepted historically and even encouraged among vampires, in this new day and age, we’ve discovered certain genetic mutations that make it less desirable, due in part to a loss of power. When a Marseille mates with another Marseille, they will produce weaker offspring. However, were I to go out and mate with, say, a Vamp from Italy, a Pure Blood, my chances of having mentally, physically, and emotionally strong offspring would increase.
“Recent information in our own scientific studies also suggest that if we take it one step further, and procreate with Turned Vamps, as long as they are of good pedigree, we not only receive the talents and gifts of our own bloodline, but we receive others that would have otherwise been previously unobtainable.”
“Excuse me, King Marseille, with all due respect,” another Judge of the Council intervened, his long black fingernail pointed directly towards the ceiling, “a Turned Vamp was once human, and that actually weakens the Pure Blood bloodline. Humans are less intelligent, less physically adept, and definitely have no gifts such as psychic abilities, mind reading, telekinesis, rapid reflexes, fast healing, dream jumping, heightened senses and the like, which negates what we’ve worked so hard to secure and advance since the beginning of time. Though we’ve welcomed Turned Vampires to some degree into our family, to marry and consequently procreate with them is still looked down upon for the aforementioned reasons.”
“Yes, I understand your concerns, Judge Carbonneau. Yet, evidence points to the fact that a Turned Vamp, once she reaches age 100 from her rebirth, is more vampire than human. In fact, her human traits and characteristics have faded by at least 65% by that time. Thus, Turned Vamps of good pedigree are a viable option to continue our fledgling bloodline, which is now only in the hundreds; and most of those are no longer able to bear children, barren due to chromosomal disorders, physical deficiencies, or injuries suffered in battle, which forfeited their ability to reproduce. I am a viable, fertile warrior male who has saved my seed for the right Vamp. I have not even attempted to breed outside of matrimony but now, the search is over. I have finally found her.”
Whispers abounded amongst the judges.
“Please, tell us the specifics about this candidate for queendom, King Alexandre.”
“Certainly. I wish you would have allowed her attendance today, so you could meet her for yourself, but I understand that is against the rules.” Alexandre stood from his seat. “She’s incredible. She’s—”
“An imbecilic Black slave woman from South Carolina with unkempt hair. She teaches Art History to a bunch of bleeding heart humans… She’s not good for the bloodline. I’ve seen pictures,” Victor interrupted, folding his arms over his chest.
“Victor Marseille, there are to be no further interruptions from you during this proceeding!” one of the Judges chastised.
“Yes, my apologies.” He smirked, his mission already accomplished. When he met eyes with his brother, Alexandre’s fangs were slightly descended and his eyes hooded.
Nice. Perfect. Fall apart. Attack. Show them what a fucking wreck you are over Turned pussy…
“King Alexandre, please continue.”
“Yes, I was saying that she is everything I would ever wish for in a queen…” Alexandre went on a lovely, dramatic spiel about this beautiful specimen, how well she took to training, her intelligence and love of art. He discussed her unusual physical strength, lovemaking skills, and how several of his assistants had taken to her. It went on and on and Victor stifled several yawns. A vampire Blood King in love… how wretched!
Finally, the question and answer session about the Turned beast was complete and Alexandre took his seat. Twenty minutes later, the judges returned after having finished deliberating.
Judge Couture stood from his seat. He placed his emerald chalice down, the sides of it glistening with blood. Removing his hood, he let his silver and black tresses flow outward. His hair was bone straight, parted down the middle and reaching to his waist. The elderly Vamp’s eyes where pure black, like onyx jewels.
“We have reached a decision.” Alexandre nodded and looked the judge in the eyes. “We have concluded, King Alexandre Marseille, that you violated many codes and rules of the throne.”
“What?!” Alexandre’s fangs fully extended. His eyes burned with hatred… it was so beautiful!
“We are in agreement that due to these encroachments and the preponderance of evidence against you, that you be stripped of your title and position. King Alexandre Marseille, you have violated the code of full disclosure, refused to come to the Council and update us in a timely fashion regarding the matters at hand, murdered three of your brother’s servants by psychological and psychic abuse and intimidation, then ordered that they commit suicide, attacked one of your brother’s servants so severely that he will never regain the ability to speak again, and violated codes 5A, 7H and 2C-R.”
“But you didn’t even ask to meet her! You haven’t even finished hearing my side of this! NO! This is wrong! I won’t accept it!” In a flash, Alexandre levitated, his body rising in the air. The flames of the candles all around swayed violently as he hovered above, moving practically at the speed of light.
Show them how crazy you are, brother of mine… Temper, temper, temper. There’ll be no coming back from this… See? You’re a loose cannon… King Alexandre is dead.
The judges remained fairly calm, but Victor knew better. Alexandre could go on a killing spree in a split second; he was just that volatile.
“You have three days to clear your personal belongings and evacuate your property at the Marseille Mansion, Alexandre. The next in line for the throne is Victor Marseille, who will be sworn in one week from today.”
The gavel sounded like sweet, thundering music to his ears. His eyes burned with blood, tears of joy. Victor sat there, stunned, overwhelmed with bliss. It seemed at times during the hearing that Alexandre had them eating out of his hand but that last bit of evidence from Fawn must’ve worked after all. The woman had done everything she could to wiggle out of getting on the stand, but she’d offered a fair compromise—something even better. She’d supplied a video of him ranting and raving, then going on a murder binge in his own home over some unpaid debts… Mayhem.
Alexandre lowered himself back down to the floor and turned his head in a stiff manner, as if it were attached with rusty nuts and bolts. His lips curled in a grin before he spoke in such a low tone, the sound of his voice vibrated through his body like an organ.
“My dear brother, Victor, you’ve gotten what you’ve come here for. My sweet, sweet, brother, I’m coming for what’s mine, too.” Alexandre placed his hand over his heart and grinned. Before Victor could respond to the threat, Alexandre was upon him!
“SHIT!” The judges moved from their seats as the table toppled over from Alexandre’s speed in closing the fifty feet of distance between them.
Pandemonium broke out when Alexandre wrapped his strong hands around his neck and squeezed.
“Die! Die! Die!”
Victor’s head became foggy, the air cut off from his lungs. He could hear the commotion all around him, the bodies hitting the floor, the screams. He reached up with a shaky hand and managed to twist and break Alexandre’s wrist—the crack was almost deafening. Alexandre barely flinched. He kept one hand secu
rely around his neck, popped his wrist back into place with a vigorous shake, and continued to choke the living shit out of him.
“Alexandre!” Several of the judges rushed to his aid, but Alexandre pushed them aside as if they were made of cotton balls. The hatred in his brother’s eyes astounded Victor. The brute strength he possessed was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and yet, something within him knew that Alexandre was holding back, for if not, he’d already be dead.
“Someone call the constabularies before it is too late! He’s going to kill his brother!”
“STOP IT! THERE’S A MOB AT THE DOOR!” came a booming voice that he didn’t recognize.
Suddenly, it sounded as if the doors burst open and the cathedral went completely black.
A bright light shone, and Alexandre slowly slipped his hands away from his neck. Victor got to his feet, rubbing the heated flesh, and looked in the direction of the commotion.
At least twenty-four monarchs from all over the nation stood present with their spouses, all of them with weapons drawn. Massive silver swords, bows and arrows, guns probably loaded with silver and serrated bullets, gleaming axes, and two witches with stark black eyes glaring at him holding odd little velvet bags in their grip. The crowd parted, and in the middle walked a beautiful barefoot Black woman with a cloud of black curls framing her face, her skin like brown satin. She donned a vibrant green gown that brought out the richness of her skin color. Victor could no longer deny her beauty. It was impossible.
She extended her fangs as she glared at him, then her eyes glossed over when her gaze fell on Alexandre, his brother, her lover…
“No worries, my Love.”
“We demand an opportunity for appeal!” the Dutch monarch, Lord Van de Velde, stated. “Any king stripped of his title has a right to an immediate appeal within twenty-four hours! This is a travesty! A miscarriage of justice!”
An uproar ensued and the room vibrated with rage. Victor’s chest rose up and down like an accordion being played and tinkered with at full speed. There was no way these bastards would leave peacefully! Where had they all come from? How had Alexandre convinced them to leave their posts and speak up on his behalf? Alexandre was cruel and ruthless… he had no friends. Or did he?
“I AM KING NOW!” Victor roared. “You can’t come in here and—”
“Be quiet!” Judge Carbonneau yelled, one long, bony finger pointed in his direction. “We’ve already made a decision, but Alexandre is entitled to an appeal. King Van de Velde is correct.”
“WE WANT IT NOW! WE WANT IT NOW! WE WANT IT NOW!” the mob began to chant.
“May I speak?” The slave’s voice was strong, yet her eyes held a desperate plea. Judge Couture studied her from the podium. The room remained fairly silent for what felt like an eternity.
“State your name.”
“Venus Margaret Anderson.”
Judge Couture stared at her for so long, seconds turned to minutes. He came down from the judges’ stand, taking his time, until he towered over the Turned Vamp. He sniffed. Then sniffed again. His fangs descended, causing a hush and whispers in the room. His long piano-key-striped white and black hair blew about, as if caught in a whirlwind.
“You smell… familiar.” He slowly walked around her, then again. After several moments, he stopped, staff in hand. “Before you volunteer any information, I want you to answer this one simple question.”
“Yes. What would you like to know?”
“Who turned you?”
The slave stood there, and her body began to shake as she looked down at the floor. After several excruciating moments, Alexandre wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
“Pathetic!” Victor could not stand one more second of this. He leapt from behind the table that had been turned right-side up but before he could advance any further, someone tossed a silver throwing star at his head. He ducked in the nick of time, and took note of fucking King Zhang Wei and his slanty eyed Chinois bitch, Syà, standing there, their peepers and smiles black as night.
“Who turned you?!” the judge demanded once again.
“I will tell you if it will help Alexandre.” The slave woman held her head high, though it was obvious she was overwrought with emotion. “But first I must explain that I love Alexandre and would do practically anything for him. I ask in advance for forgiveness from my mistress, for breaking her trust, for breaking our secrets… My mistress’ name is…”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Queen’s English
The walls pulsed and caved inward. A sound like a bomb going off in a volcano erupted the entire place, forcing everyone to take cover. Dark smoke spread like a suffocating gas, the basilica windows burst and shards of black glass flew around, slicing into skin and landing on every surface—as if the sky had frozen and broke to pieces right above their heads. Chaos, vampiric shrieks and curses ensued, many taking cover and shielding their eyes.
When Alexandre removed his arm from his face, he spotted Venus on the floor several feet away, her head tucked and her body covered in debris. He stormed over to his woman and immediately picked her up in his arms. After dusting her off, especially her head and shoulders, he covered her with his coat. Clouds of gray dust drifted about like a caravan on a mission, then finally settled, and all was quiet.
Someone may be dead…
He looked over at the judges—all of them appeared to be fine, barring their confused expressions. Two guards, who’d arrived on the scene after the mob arrived, began to assist in clearing up the area.
All around him, the pews were covered in glass and dust. Behind him, the kings and queens from around the world were all on bended knee, their eyes still shielded…
The mood had shifted. The Earth was alive with a force yet to be seen.
Where the fuck is my damn brother?
He looked in all directions but didn’t see Victor. For a split second, he figured the coward had run off, but that couldn’t be. He could smell the bastard lurking close, keeping a keen eye on all that was around him, scoping him out like Alexandre was attempting to do with him. After a deep breath, he rose to his feet.
“Is anyone beside you down? Is everyone accounted for?”
All the kings and queens murmured their assent as they lifted their faces. One by one, they stood and swiped the debris from their bodies. The distinct sound of crunching glass underfoot could be heard now, reminding him of vampire spines cracking under tremendous weight. A robust feminine energy filled the place—strong… sweet… awful… beautiful. Through a dense cloud of dark gray dust appeared a tall figure in a blood red cape. At the base of it peeked out black tie up boots as she walked. He could not see her face, but the hands were bare… pale white with blue undertones, the veins large and knotted. Thick, curled, long nails adorned each hand, one finger donning a large diamond sapphire ring that looked all too familiar.
Alexandre’s chest heaved and his eyes burned from the haze, but his brain began to pulse and throb, to hurt in a way humans would describe a hangover.
No… no, this can’t be…
The woman paused in the center of the room, gathered the material of her hood with both hands, and allowed it to fall away from her face. Venus screamed out. Jerking away from his embrace, she flew to the newcomer like a lost baby to a mother! His bride’s feet lifted off the floor, and in a blur of love, life, and loyalty, she wrapped herself around the figure, squeezing, holding, embracing with all of her might, all that was in her, all that she’d hoped to become….
Venus’ desires were rich and open. He read them like pages in a book. She admired this vampire, respected her, loved her…
The vampire wrapped her arms around her, too, and a smile split across the figure’s angular face. Long, thick black strands of hair flowed from the Vamp’s scalp like dark ropes. As the two clung to one another, the woman’s blue eyes changed to a piercing shade of red, reflected upon him and her smile vanished… Alexandre tapped his foot then cracked his
neck. He smiled, anything to keep his limbs moving, to make his mind not drift into a darkness that he could never come back from.
“I’m sorry for betraying you. I didn’t see any other way!” Venus explained, her voice cracking.
“I am not upset with you,” The traitor stroked Venus’ hair. “You did exactly as you were to do… what I prepared you for, so long ago.”
“Geneviève, this is my mate. He—”
“Oh Venus, my Love, please don’t waste your breath with silly introductions! Geneviève! Wow!!!” Alexandre bellowed, the veins in his body throbbing with anguish, or perhaps it was pure pain.
Victor materialized then thrust out from the smoky shadows like a white piece of dog shit from some tight, puckering asshole. The fucker’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he made his way over the rubble, tumbling towards them like a drunken idiot.
“This is outrageous! This is obscene!” Alexandre cackled at his brother’s words and turned in a circle, his arms in the air as his fangs descended from the gumline. “No… I don’t believe my eyes. How?” Victor murmured, his voice barely audible.
“Shut the fuck up. This is between me and Geneviève,” Alexandre ordered as he shot up in the air, his movements causing the broken fragments of glass and dust to sway in a counterclockwise vortex. The woman ignored Victor, gently nudged Venus out of her way, and floated towards him quickly, her fangs descended as she hissed. They spun around one another, dancing in midair as his rage turned blacker than black.
“Quelle surprise!”
“Geneviève? Alexandre? What’s going on?!” Venus asked, her face a mask of confusion, her hair sparkling with dust, her eyes full of light and darkness.
“My Love, Geneviève is no mistress! This is my mother!” Fire burned in his eyes as he bit into his lower lip, drawing out his own essence. It dripped down his chin as he tried to restrain himself, tried to make sense of the ultimate betrayal.
