The inhabitants feeding on blood and living flesh.
DARKNESS CRIES
In this life may things can not be taken as they appear. A man walking down the street appearing to be late for some midnight tryst or meeting with an old friend may only be on his way home. In fact, that same man may not be a man at all and his tryst or meeting may only be an impending victim that he has stalked. Though even that can not be taken as it is, because in this life there are many things that are not as they appear. That man may be a creature set aside from death, a creature that feeds on the blood of living men. He may be a beast in a human guise, a beast that rages into a gigantic muscled creature only told about to small children in folklore and fairy tales.
In deed this life can take a man by surprise, plunging him into a world darker than the one he was born to. Although perhaps this world was never so bright. Just perhaps this world is a myriad of heavens and hells, visiting each person at different times in a man's life.
Steven now faced one these hells as he sat in his throne. Seeing it in the man's blue-black eyes across from were he sat. Hearing it in the aged whisper, "You have to destroy him!" A sparkle of glee flashed in those dark eyes and a smile almost showed its presence as well. "There is no other way, just no other reasonable choice of action." Marcus Levi screamed in dramatic and theatrical excess. Marcus never did like the idea that Steven was the only Archbishop that he, Marcus, did not appoint himself. In fact, the man had been too frightened to campaign against Steven from the very start. The man was too old and not very powerful. While Steven was considerably young and very powerful, this made Marcus uneasy just thinking about it.
The man, Marcus, looked like a man of forty; brown hair showing much gray, loose flaky skin, and a small frame that supported a three piece suit and a heavy overcoat. His hands and face were the color of bleached sheets. The manner in which he presented himself was that of a wise old English man not that of a three hundred-year-old vampire.
Steven took a deep breath, "He's not a problem to us."
"He sure as bloody hell is! You are the one that fucked up." Marcus said now pacing in front of Steven. "It should be you up there with him. And believe me if I had my way you would!" With each foul word, he cursed at Steven, his head jerked left then right making him appear more like a chicken than that of a Cardinal of the Sabbat.
"I'm sure," Steven spoke as his unveiled the most dread of gazes. "I would be cooking in a vat of boiling oil if you had your way about it. But do not forget whose home you are in Cardinal. My loyal servants may not like the words you choose. And it would be a pity if something where to happen to you," Steven smiled, "wouldn't it."
Marcus felt the blood drain from his face making him look even more white than before. His eyes wide in disbelief, "You wouldn't dare," he breathed. The thought sickened him. Even the thought that Steven might want him dead or destroyed sent a myriad of feelings and floods of emotions through Marcus. Awe, humility, anger, furry, and fear all threatened to undo Marcus's control over his own emotions.
"Listen to me sir," gone was the threats and sarcasm. "Ian is a complex man and I have taken it upon my self to bring him over. But this is a delicate business, rushing him too fast will kill him, but taking it too slowly and you will kill him." A measure of calm was bestowed over both the men. "I hope you can understand I need more time."
Marcus began to wring his hands, "Steven, I realize the challenge Ian is for you, but judgment has been passed. This is not a request. The council has voted and death is the only way, but if you refuse then I must unfortunately find someone that will." The card dealt and played, Marcus waited to see what hand his opponent had.
Steven sat silently for a long moment, weighing the odds. Then his face seemed to drain of humanity, if in fact humanity could be drained, and reason. Steven's already unnaturally white face seemed to change, though Marcus could not find any differences. Shadows collected in the depths of his face. Steven was demonic, that was all Marcus could think.
Poor Steven was gone replaced by this living shadow of himself. Or maybe even more unspeakable still, there never was a Steven only this masked Demon that was no longer masked. He bathed in the shadows of the night like a leech, sucking life from all around him. Even now Marcus could feel his life draining away in this cold void as this Shadow sat upon a Throne of souls engulfed in black fire. Marcus could see the blackness envelope Steven's eyes, still not convinced that they were Steven's eyes, and he could still feel the black fire about the Demon.
"Okay," spoke the Creature in Steven's voice. "I will do the deed. However, know this 'Cardinal' if I ever see you again in this city, My City. I will personally drink your soul. Oh yes, and as for a replacement for me there will be none.
"I would destroy the city be for I hand it over to any other Kindred."
Marcus was not use to this much opposition and the sad part was he believed every word. His blood ran cold and there was a chill in his body that he could not combat. It was not until he turned to leave, did the cold that had a hold of his being, begin to subside. With each step closer to the door he came, further and further away, the cold got, seeming to melt away.
He did not stop until he was at the door and then, "I'll be watching you Steven Ramos," he said.
Then as Marcus Levi was about to walk threw the door Steven said, "And I too will watch you... Philip Cowling."
Marcus stopped in mid motion, paralyzed by the name spoken. Thoughts raced though his mind. 'How could he know?' Marcus asked himself, not believing he heard those words. Words he had not thought about in centuries. 'How could he know my birth name?'
Marcus looking back at the Creature that was being consumed in its black fiery configuration, seeing the souls of all that it had destroyed and the chill returned. Running up his spine, but it was not until he saw his own face screaming out of the black fire, did his body start to shake. Feeling the dark eyes on him and knowing that Steven was enjoying his victory he made no further response, and simply walked out leaving the Archbishop smiling.
1
Shortly after the Cardinal left the Hall, David, the Bishop of the city walked into the room. His untidy clothes and appearance showed his clanlessness. He was a caitiff. He was a man without a clan. His kind, the caitiffs were very common in this day and age, but one that commanded as much power as he was uncommon. He had rose to power with Steven. He seemingly rose to power on Steven's coat tails.
Steven and David were not the best of friend's, as a matter of fact they fought for the right to be Prince of the city. Steven had won the battle, and turned over the city to the Sabbat in return for knowledge. David escaped with many scars that would heal and as a reward for his courage, Marcus appointed him Bishop.
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