Fic: Azaeziel and Raziel 1/3 M7 AU Xover
Azaeziel and Raziel
By: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Kindred the Embraced, World of Darkness, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Wolf Lake, or Magnificent Seven.
Warning: Violence, Blood, Language, Character Death.
Summary: "The chronicles of my existence are far from complete, and aside from myself, no one will ever know the complete truth." _____________________________________________________
Spring - 6506 BCE.
Raziel struggled against the beast, swinging his blade back to slice off her arm. He cursed when it barely slowed the giant tiger shaped woman. "Cease movement, camel fucker!" Bringing out his secondary blade, he waited until she charged again before stabbing it through her breast. The resulting silence was startling to say the least.
Blinking blue eyes in confusion, he stared down at the woman beast. Her blood red eyes continued to glow unnaturally with hatred, but her body refused to move. Without a second thought, he sliced the head from her body. Her head skidded across the floor from the violent action and he knelt down to rest.
Before he knew what happened, he looked down and saw a fist protruding from his chest. It took a moment for him to register that it was his heart in the clawed hand of another beast woman. He glanced over his shoulder to see his killer. She barely came to his shoulder on a good day. Smiling, he coughed up blood.
Ennoia pulled back her hand and stared at the dying form. She spit upon the heart and cast it aside. Slashing her own palm, she placed it over the mouth of the man who had killed her priestess. "Enumba te umbe d-ob ses ta nu ete." She willed more of her blood to flow freely down his throat. Eyes flaring gold, she picked him up by the face and tossed him out the temple doors. "Gensha!" Silent forces slammed the doors after him, forever sealing the ancient monument.
Raziel died knowing a greater hunger than ever imagined.
Watching as the city lay in ruins, burning slowly, Tzimisce held the last of the guardians by his throat. Lifting the beast formed vampire from his feet, the ancient being twisted its wrist to check the facial features. "There is very little I find pleasing about this one. You promised me great beauty if I came. I am here, where is my bounty?"
Unwrapping the purple sash from around his white, pock marked face, Abisimiliard growled at the flesh crafter. "It is yours, force it to revert."
Turning back to the creature in its hand, the flesh crafter raised a sculpted eyebrow ridge. "They can shift form?"
"They can."
Tzimisce cackled, entranced by the possibility. "Another of our kind that may change form aside from my own. I look forward to finding out how much so." A flash of colors distracted the creature that only superficially resembled the human it once was. The ability to mold its shape to any form had left the ancient vampire's true image behind long ago.
Appearing at the ancient's side, a soot marked woman dressed in robes dyed several shades of red dusted her hands. Her blonde hair reflected in the moonlight as she tossed it over her shoulder. Glancing at the vampire in Tzimisce's hand, she grimaced. "I had thought we killed them all."
"This one, my dearest one, is special." Raising a hand, it beckoned the woman close. The moment she was in range, it slid the hand over her brow, smoothing out a scar. "Imperfection, Modra, is unexcusable."
"Forgive me, I was dealing with the remnants." Averting her eyes, she focused on the guardian. "What is your intentions with this one?"
"That is the pondering." Squeezing the neck, it formed claws on the tips of its fingers. "Revert or I shall remove your head." When it didn't even acknowledge him, Tzimisce's face lost all traces of amusement. "You have no idea what I am capable of, do you?"
Snarling, the guardian's hands shot out and clawed the ancient's face. It tried to reach him again, but he was dropped to the ground and kicked hard. Recovering, he rolled to his feet and raced off in the night.
"Much like the dessert cat, they are." Turning back to its child, Tzimisce smiled again. "Catch it, and I give you permission to blood bond it to you. If you don't, I will let the abomination's childer leech the marrow from your bones." Patting her face, it walked off, quickly bored with the carnage.
Abisimiliard watched the hideously perfect being with contempt. If the Tzimisce were perfect from their flesh crafting ability, then his own Nosferatu were their polar opposite. The purple robes he wore hid the hideous deformities and pustules that riddled his body and those of his childer. The arrogance of the being called Tzimisce, from their ideals of perfection to naming its own childer after itself, disgusted him.
The childe that nodded and disappeared in the night after the guardian was no better. It had been hand picked by the Tzimisce in city of Trolphos while they were searching for Inanna, successor of Arikel. The clan of posers and flaunters made his blood boil with rage. The childe had been one of their ghoul's, but Tzimisce had been entranced and so ended her mortal existence. Personally, Absimiliard would rather see her manipulative heart served on a silver platter.
Speaking of hearts, they had finally hunted down their prey. Moving off to the side of fallen sentry tower, he came around to find Tzimisce holding it down with four tentacles. That particular talent always unnerved the ancient Nosferatu. He finally stopped, standing over the struggling form of the Toreador founder. Pulling out a knife from his belt, he knelt down beside her and smiled. "Greetings, painter."
"Stay away, diseased filth!" She spit at him, then screamed when one of the tentacles pierced her body violently. "You will pay for this!"
Appearing at her side, another figure with black lined eyes shook his head. "Did you forget about our vendetta?"
"Set! You monster! How can you appear in the presence of these, our enemies?" Arikel tried to move her body again. Having come to this city seeking protection from the goddess against her enemies, Arikel had prayed in the temple for three days. It had seemed she would get her answer now, not even the temple guardians had been able to stand against her rivals. Realizing her death was upon her, she snarled a curse. "My death will bring destruction upon those who feast."
"That is wondrous, my dear." Forming a blade with its finger nails, Tzimisce slit her larynx. "Now enough babble, feast upon her and be done with this, I grow bored." Its squid like body began to reform into the humanoid shape once more.
"Gladly." Abisimiliard stabbed his dagger in to Arikel's chest and sliced all the way to her pelvis. Reaching in, he removed her heart and cut it in two. Offering up the smaller half, to Set, he greedily chewed his portion.
Set glowered at his rival, but took the portion for himself. Reciting a small incantation over it, the heart started beating once more. He smiled and chewed. While he ate, the body shook violently, as if in pain.
Tzimisce's attention once again began to wonder. There was so many pretty flames going on around them and it wanted to watch them dance. It had a particularly wonderful notion of wondering what it would be like to watch one of the two at its feet dance with them. Glancing over its shoulder, it smiled. "Modra, returned already?"
Modra's skin, sliced in several places, began to smooth back into her normal appearance. Dragging behind her, she held the guardian by his hair. "He tried to ambush me."
"My beautiful darling, how offal." Bending down, he knelt in front of the guardian and shook a finger. "Bad decision, you should have continued running." Tracing a finger down the side of his face, it enacted its flesh crafting abilities. The skin molded under its touch, changing in to the face it deigned for the guardian to have. When it removed its hand and the flesh reformed, Tzimisce's face took on a dark smile. "I enjoy a challenge."
With a quick flick of the wrist, the guardian sliced off the ancient's wrist.
Staring down at its bloody stump with fascination, Tzimisce turned the arm over several times. It shook the stump as if to restore feeling. Glancing down, it saw the removed hand on the ground lying there lifeless. "Modra, darling one, has this creature of yours removed my hand?"
Modra dared not speak, choosing only to nod.
"I can not hear you, has it removed my ears as well?" Reaching up to the sides of its head with both arms, it felt for ears. Finding them, it stared confoundedly at the bloody stump once more. Holding out its stump to the guardian, it pointed to the hand. "Put it back at once."
"Do as you are commanded." Modra pushed the blue eyed guardian to the ground to retrieve the hand. When it refused to move, she kicked it hard. She had to jump back when it whirled on her, claws ready to strike. "I do not seem to be able to control it. I do not understand, I have blood bonded like you said."
"How many times has it tasted your blood?" Tzimisce watched its childe dance back out of the creature's reach with apathy.
"Twice!" She cursed when one particularly vicious strike ripped the remains of her skirt from her legs. "That was my favored weaving!"
"Amusing childe, it must taste three times to be blood bound." Picking up its hand, the ancient put the two ends back together. As they fused, it walked off.
"How do I do that? It isn't as docile as once was!" Modra fought to keep her shift on her body when it got a hold of the cloth.
"Simply stop avoiding it." When it spoke, Modra's body froze up and she fell to the ground.
No sooner than she fell, than the guardian was upon her. His jaws clenched around her throat and bit down hard. The guardian began to shake her mercilessly, rending her head almost completely from her body.
"That is enough." Its voice carried a tone of command that the guardian could no longer refuse. Walking towards him, Tzimisce reached out the same hand again. "Sit."
The guardian reluctantly complied, sitting back on his haunches.
Tzimisce looked down on the damaged body of its childe. It began to pet the now blood bound guardian's hair. "I suppose you will need assistance. Take care of her, she is your master in my absence." With a final pat, Tzimisce walked off into the night followed by the other two Antediluvian.
Azaeziel studied the creature he had fashioned from the peasant girl. It had twelve arms and six eyes on stalks to watch them with. They all attached to a central base with a slug like bottom. What had been an incompetent serving girl was now a multi-function cleaning creature.
Standing back, he placed a hand to his face to study it. The coloring was all wrong, he wanted it to match the room, but couldn't decide if it should be the yellow like the Canary drapes or spotted like the leopard bed clothes.
He was broken from his revery by the entrance of his sire. She was saying something, but he had a hard time hearing her over the screams of the new cleaning creature. Apparently he had forgotten that, despite her being a lack whit, she had been a human being. Humans tended to feel things like pain. It had been too long. Smiling, he reached out and touched the stump in the middle.
Plunging his fingers deep inside, he moved them about in the brain of the former servant girl and rearranged it. With a fleshy pulpy sound, he removed part of the brain and sealed the breach. Now it was completely silent, yet completely sentient. What use was there for a cleaner that could talk?
Modra appeared at his side, smiling at his new creation. She was very proud of his abilities, having taught him herself. After five centuries of constant work, he had finally gotten the ability down pat. All the evidence she needed was in the creature he had just created this very night.
They had warned the girl about ignoring her duties. Now she would no longer have the need to waste their time by prattling on endlessly while her work was left neglected. After all, who talks to the furniture?
Then again, most beings' furniture couldn't talk back.
Grinning wickedly at the cleaner, she walked up close and flicked the eyes. "Tzimisce has claimed another of the vile Baba Yaga's childer in battle. Her brood are getting closer to our territory, soon you may be required to go out and destroy them once more."
Frowning, Azaeziel felt the last of his joy over the new creation fade away. "I have never understood the weakness of Abisimiliard's for the mystics. They are a dangerous lot to fight, why must he terrorize them?"
"His predilections are not ours to debate, we simply help out when needed. A guest-alliance is held sacred, so long as it is not violated, we must adhere to the rules." Reaching out, she adjusted the hair on her childe's brow, changing the color from brown to smokey red. "Why do you insist on changing the colors, this suits you better."
"I do not care for this color any more." He changed it back to brown with a hand waved through his hair. Shaking it out, it now held a permanent wave. "I prefer the look of the northern heathens. The silver hoops in their skin are fascinating."
"Fascination is wonderful, mimicry is not. We are original in our designs, as in the original is better." Glancing down, Modra fought the urge to change his hair back. At times it was trying that her own childe would fight her so. "We are needed to help calibrate our master's victory. We are his chosen, we shall go."
"Shall I bring my battle axe?" Twirling one stud in his ear, Azaeziel grinned down at the now flailing cleaning creature. Tzimisce had promised him the next time they met he could kill something. Something that wasn't a part of the normal protective duties he held. His fingers twitched at a half remembered battle. There had been so many, it was hard to separate them all.
"I would assume so, Tzimisce promised after all." Modra knew very well how excitable her childe was. Her sire seemed to take great pleasure in getting him riled up and turning him on the locals. He wasn't insane, just blood thirsty. The thought of his appetite made even her feel ill. Azaeziel consumed enough for twelve. Then again, he made the prettiest things for her with the blood he consumed. She smiled. "We are to leave immediately, it wants us as soon as possible."
"Excellent! Just let me finish up here." Walking to the cleaning creature, he held out his hands and cackled while it silently screamed.
The Witch Hunters moved through the manse, their faithful leading the way. Down each corridor, they held the talismans of their faith imbued with the power of their faith. Their one true weapon against the scourge, they held them high to drive them back. It had been a long and bloody battle to get even this close, having lost many of their number. However, they were bound and determined to end the menace in the castle where it laid.
Endless halls lined with sconces burning candles of human fats made them want to retch. It was the worst of their fears realized. To prevent them from being lost, they summoned a wil-o-wisp to guide them. Its fairies light blinked in to existence, the green essence forming a sphere. Ducking three times, it shot off down the hall towards their target.
Their leader gestured forward with his arm and ran ahead of the pack. His faith in the one god the strongest, he knew it would protect him from even the most powerful of the fowl blood drinkers. When he came around the corner, he spotted the source of the vilest of all evils. It had surrounded itself with the most hideously beautiful of its childer and their monstrous creations.
Once human and animals, these creatures had been sculpted without use of chisel and hammer. The mere touch of these Tzimisce could shape the flesh of almost any living or undead being in to whatever shape they chose. Most of these were moving tables with appendages that drained blood in to glasses. Others were large monstrosities that lumbered about with obscene grace and agility, dancing for the amusement of the Tzimisce clan.
What enraged him the most was the fact none of them seemed to pay him the least bit of difference. He raised his fish emblem higher and chanted a prayer to the god. That was met with the most vile of screeches and curses. Opening his eyes, he smiled, all but one had been driven back to far reaches of the room. The elder, the most ancient continued to sit upon its throne, but did not move.
Believing victory was upon them, they rushed into the room, torches and staves raised high. "Prepare for the cleansing, foul creatures!"
Tzimisce's lips twitched. Eyes alight with red fire, it folded its hands over its chest in amusement. "I do believe you are right about that. You will be cleansed." Lifting its attention to just behind them, Tzimisce smiled paternally. "I promised, and I always keep my guest-promises. Please keep yours and rid my sanctuary of these."
Turning in righteous anger, the leader shown his cross to lift the shadows. The darkness extended along the wall revealing nothing. He started to laugh when all of a sudden the wall seemed to ripple. The laughter died, choking in his throat as the monster that had haunted his nightmares since he was a kid materialized from the wall and took form in front of him.
Opening blue eyes, Azaeziel looked upon the large number of faithful. Where the power of their belief would harm most of his kind, much like Tzimisce, it had no effect on him. He stepped forward and the brilliant lights of their icons flared out of existence. The shadows traveled along the floor and snuffed out the light of their torches.
He took another step and they collectively took one back. Their faith increased, but the power of their belief had no noticeable effect on him. Behind him, the childer of Tzimisce and their get cringed even further. The icons scarred them, the faith burned by its presence.
"What matter of demon are you?" Their leader raised his sword with his free hand. He was the first to die. Azaeziel's battle axe sliced him clean through from head to toe.
After that, the collective Witch Hunters scattered.
Azaeziel moved through them like as a farmer's scythe through wheat. His battle axe cut several down in one swing.
They launched their clay pots of ichor and tossed torches in his direction.
Even ablaze, he continued to rage. Tossing the battle axe at a fleeing woman, he growled in satisfaction when it slammed through her and continued to imbed itself in the wall. His fingers formed claws and he bellowed a roar that would not be out of place in the jungles of India.
The last of them fell under his scorched body. With finger length fangs, he tore in to her chest and drained the blood from the source. Her dying screams echoed in the darkness of the castle. Abruptly, they cut off. Time seemed to drag on forever for the gathered vampires.
When Azaeziel had ceased movement and continued to burn, Tzimisce stared down at his creature with fascination. "Why do you stop?"
There was no response.
"Put it out." Its childer scrambled to follow its order. Standing, the ancient vampire walked over to stand over the remains of its creature. Not an inch of the Azaeziel's skin remained untouched from the flames. "Awaken, childe." It touched Azaeziel on the shoulder, frowning when he did not respond. "I have given you a command, awaken."
Still no response.
Picking up the childe, Tzimisce hauled him behind it. Sitting in its throne, the ancient put the childe over its lap and began to stroke his back. "Pretty childe."
Still he did not move.
"Of all my pretties, you were my favorite." Tzimisce summoned two of its childer. Handing Azaeziel over to them, it pet him one last time. "Prepare him for burial. Carry him to Set. Inscribe on his sarcophagus his name and his place in my line of childer. He is to be entombed in the house of Ra with the eldest of my childer. From the lands of the rising sun he came, so too he shall return."
Modra watched the others of her clan with suspicious cast eyes. Many of them were growing jealous, her childe's remains would have to be guarded carefully. She knew for fact that the remains of Indrelu were not in the house of Ra, that they had never made it that far before her corpse was diablerized. Making her move, she knelt by Tzimisce's side and took its hand. "I ask that you allow me to accompany my childe to his rest."
"No. I have need of you, Modra. I need all my childer." Gathering its clan about it with a thought, Tzimisce nodded to the hundred members that composed its clan. "The time for battle has come. Abisimiliard has fallen in battle against the get of his childe, Baba Yaga. In the battle, she too fell, but her childer still roam the night. They seek revenge against us for our part in her fall and we must be prepared to defend the home territories."
"What would you have us do?"
Smiling, Tzimisce cocked its head. "The nights of the jihad have been too peaceful. It is time we taught the others to fear our name."
The heavy, gilt laden barge flowed through the dark waters of the Nile. The priests preached the rites of transcendence to aid the spirit of the fallen warrior king beyond the underworld. His name, written on center cartouche over his heart, they chanted several times to call him from the underworld, towards the land of the living.
"Azriel, god of the people, return to your form. I beseech thee, come forth and inhabit your form once more." Shaking the staff of bound hawk wings over the corpse, the priest gestured for the golden lid to be removed. Several caches had to be removed before the lid came off safely. Each cache containing poisoned thorns, deadly to the prick. Inside, the burial mask was removed with the most delicate of hands.
Another priest lifted a jug of blood from an immortal procured by the priests of Set. The mouth was opened with the scepter of Isis to allow the Ka to return. Chanting, he poured the blood in to the mummy's mouth. Soon the entire amphora had been emptied, yet not a drop remained in the mouth of the mummy. The priest held another jug high, this one filled with the blood of a shapeshifter. He poured it down the throat of the mummy until not a drop remained.
The mummy's mouth snapped shut.
A great cacophony of chants rose in to the night as all the priest started to call upon the dead to once more awaken. The Ka had returned, and the rituals completed, all that remained was for the god to arise. Their voices were abruptly silenced by the scream of the dead king.
Opening blue eyes, consciousness returned to Azriel. The first thing he noticed were the priests. Reaching out, he grabbed the closest one, and brought him to his mouth. "Where am I?"
The priest gasped, surprised the god did not speak the language of the people. It was well known the people learned the speak from the gods. "I do not understand you, my lord."
Azriel barely understood the tongue of the weak minded fool. It sounded familiar, but then again, he could barely remember anything. Trying his best to recall the right words, he spoke to the priest. "What am I?"
"You are the god Azriel, my lord. It has been long since you walked the land of mortals. Our gods have commanded that you be woken that you may once again join their ranks." His last words were gasped out as the god bit him. He cried out in pain, then pleasure as Azriel's bite brought both. He wanted to weep when he was released, but the god brought him close. Next thing he knew, the god had pressed his palm over his mouth and he was tasting the divine's essence.
Pushing the now gagging priest from him, Azriel sat up in his sarcophagus. He glanced down at his body, noting the scorched flesh with an air of contempt. His flesh seemed to ripple and was replaced by tan coloring. He seemed to remember a flash of bronze on his own tanned wrist.
The priests had stopped chanting, watching the astonishing change come over the fallen god.
From the tips of his fingers and toes up his arms, the skin flowed back. Coloring and hair covered his body like a wave. The last to form were the locks of his hair. Never having a clear image, he imagined something that resembled his body only darker. The final image now complete, he stared at the priests with barely concealed contempt. "I have no use for you."
"What do you will of us," the head priest asked.
"I have no use for you," glancing down at the man beside him, clutching his chest, Azriel smiled. "However, he will."
"I have reservations about this." Rasultet stared at the reed barge that was bound for the world across the ancient waterways his people had long believed to be endless. It was said to have made the crossing several times, but he still refused to believe it. However, it wasn't up for him to make the decision. Glancing at his sire, he couldn't help a shiver.
Azriel had been woken barely two years ago by him and his brothers. The god had then cursed him to feed upon their life essence for all eternity. Despite everything he had been taught, the god also fed upon the blood of humans, not foods. Though the god need not feed as often, he needed greater quantities than Rasultet.
He wondered if in time he himself would develop the great need as well. The god did not know. After cursing him, the god had confessed he did not know what he had done, and did not know how to undo it. In fact, the memory of the god was completely gone. There were several times the god had done things and stared in wonder at his accomplishment.
More and more, the rumors of the God among the mortals circulated, growing with each deed. The god did not wish to join his fellows who had bade him rise. Now they were gathering passage for the far lands. Not only did the endless sea scare him, the lack of food on the endless journey was also a concern.
However, he need not fear, there were sixty men in the crew. They would row the galleys when land was in sight. Apparently the Master was well aware of his concerns. Now that remained were his fears of the endless. "I do not wish to go."
Azriel looked at the childe, quaking in fear, and it angered him. For two years he had tried to learn of the world from the weak mortal he had sired, hoping to regain his memory. Each night had driven him from town to town in a restlessness that knew no end. Each night the childe had complained about their circumstances. Enough was enough! "Then remain here forever." He stabbed his hand in the childe's chest and pulled out his heart. Clenching it in his fist, he crushed it to ashy pulp. The childe fell where he stood and disappeared in a fluttering of ash.
Passersby screamed at the action and gave him a wide berth. Many ran through the town crying out a warning of a demon from the dessert.
"A demon now, am I? I guess the title suits me better than god." With a skip in his step, Azriel walked off towards the docks where the boats had been lashed down. It looked like he would be making this journal alone. More food for him.
By giving the crew small doses of his own blood, Azriel learned he could keep them alive and relatively unharmed during his feedings. In fact, they seemed healthier for it and infinitely more loyal than the weasel he had sired. He vowed then and there never to make another like himself, these humans did a much better job. Another added bonus, much like himself, they seemed to be able to walk around in the day light, unlike his dust pile of a former childe.
They had arrived at the city of TeKol three days ago and he had yet to venture across the gang plank to see the city these humans created. It was so unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. Except the pyramid. Granted, it was a giant the likes of which rivaled the Pharohnical monuments, but it was also radically different.
Another thing, his height made him stand out here as much as anywhere. The people of these lands were just too small. The fact they were as hairless as a new born babe was also disconcerting. Who the hell were these people?
His name was Mictlantecuhtli and Azriel knew it was mistake from the moment he saw him. The man had come up on him out of no where and he simply reacted. Having seen the man attack rather than run screaming in fear, had incensed him. He'd taken the mortal without rhyme or reason.
It was after they lay in the jungle airs, the newly created vampire under him, that his senses came back to him. It had been so long, so damned long, that he wanted it to last a little more. However, he knew it couldn't. Rising up, Azriel picked up the childe and carried him the long trek to the edge of a well. Seeing the sun rising, he tossed him in and watched him sink. If the childe made it out, he would wait for him. If he didn't, then he would remain at the bottom of the man made body of water a very long time.
Azriel waited for three days. His childe never surfaced.
Azriel raced through the forests of the cold land. It was spring, yet frosts still covered the grounds most mornings. He wondered perhaps he had gone too far north in his search for a way back. After over a thousand years in this strange land, he was still no where near comfortable. The peoples kept changing too fast for him to learn their cultures. It seemed they disappeared in the blink of an eye.
The violence of the kine to the south had driven him north in his search for a boat. The damned shapeshifters had driven him further. Now he was in the place where he was uncomfortable and they were still hounding him. When he fell down a hill and broke his ankle, he decided he had had enough.
Turning over, he summoned the blood necessary to heal the wound and grow his own claws. If they wanted a fight, he was going to make it one they sure thought twice about ever doing again. In his anger, he missed the shadows of the woods grow until thick as a fog. The ground rumbled under him, and entire flocks of birds scattered to the winds.
Grasses grew to hide his presence and trees lowered their branches to tangle his pursuers. The moment they came in his sensing range, his rage hit them like a physical object. Several fell back shrieking in pain. It was then they knew it was no ordinary being they tracked.
The Garou pushed forward to meet the source of the taint they discovered amongst them. Or so they thought. Instead, what they came across scared the hell out of them. It was the first time they had met a being like this but it did nothing to make them cautious.
Azriel raised his hand to strike the first one down. Instead of waiting until it came at him, a physical manifestation of his fury struck the fur covered man dead. Two more bodies hit the ground before he realized what happened. Summoning the full strength of his anger, Azriel clenched it close to him, let it grow. When they circled back for another attack, he released it.
For several miles the ground shook. All around him, the forest was brought down. Entire hills were leveled out. And at the center of it all, Azriel fell to his knees. He allowed the earth to swallow him and that was the last he knew.
That was the first thing he knew before he opened his eyes. The next thing he knew was the appearance of a half familiar face. She smiled down on him, her flawless skin belied her age. It seemed she had aged for the roll she now took. Ever an actress, his mother was. "Modra."
"Azaeziel." Reaching down, she twisted her hands in his hair. It had taken everything she had and then some, but her searches had revealed the last of her line. With the loss of her master, the once vaunted status she held among their kind had all but disappeared.
The Tzimisce were but an obscenity of their once greatness. In the passing three thousand years, she had seen their empire spread to the farthest reaches of their home land. Now most of everything they once held was in the hands of the Camarilla and their Tremere blood wizards.
Her eyes glowed brilliant red at the thought of what they had done to some of the greatest of her line in their quest to turn from mages in to immortals. Even going so far as to dig up and diablerize the ancient founder of a once noble clan. Not that she ascribed to his teachings, but they were respectable in their own right.
The remainder of her clan, those not too young to remember the horror of the inquisition, hid in their grand manses like mad hermits. Now that she had found her greatest, her childe, she would make them pay, and pay dearly. She stroked his hair, noticing that they still hadn't gotten all the dirt from it. Apparently she did have to beat these damned white slaves to death to get anything done right. It was better when they were all blood bonded servants, when they knew what it was to serve their masters without fail.
"Modra," he tried to again.
"Silence, young one, much has happened since we last met." When the local Tzimisce had learned of an ancient of their kind buried under that flea trap of trader's post, they had almost run screaming. But, a simple blood ritual had revealed the source of the ancient blood. In so doing, it had alerted her ties to her childe. From that moment, she had moved all of heaven and earth to revive him.
"Maude, the bishop is ready to hear your request." The neonate in the door thought he was higher above her in the hierarchy. He was delusional.
"I will attend in a minute, I was simply checking to see if he was all right." She shared a sly smile with her childe. "Tell the bishop I shall see him when I am through, I have much to say."
"You will see him now. The bishop is..." He was cut off when she looked at him. The next moment his own blood consumed him and he turned in to a puddle of gelatinous muck on the floor.
Sighing, she looked back down at her childe. "I really shouldn't have done that, my dear one. We shall have to leave sooner than I thought. One of the things you must know is that I am no longer called Modra. It is safer for me that no one knows my true identity. The world has changed a great deal, our names no longer afford us the safety they once did."
He watched her stand, then walk over to a large wooden construct.
"This is a bureau, we store clothes inside. It is less efficient than a chest, but the style has changed. There is much more you must learn before I introduce you once more to kindred society. One of those things is the ability to mask your true nature." She pulled out a large bundle of clothes and set them on top. Closing up the bureau, she took the stack and carried them to the bed.
"I am now known as Maude Standish, sired by Zerile, he died in the inquisition two hundred years ago, so he can't refute my claims." She shook out the shirt and pants, demonstrating how they opened. Placing them back on the bed, Maude reached down beside the bed and grabbed a pair of shoes. "These go on your feet, much like the sandals you once wore. In time you will gain the nack of handling them."
"Modra." Azaeziel tried once more. Sitting up slowly on one arm, he reached out for her. "What is the words you speak?"
In exasperation, she realized not a single word had gotten through. She hadn't been speaking a language he knew. This was going to take awhile.
Ezra Standish strolled down the street of London on the arm of his Mother. His long hair, freshly curled at his temples, cascaded over the high collar of his waist coat. They were meeting ones called the children of a so called Master, another of a race of Vampires. These of a bloodline that he had never heard of and it intrigued them.
Just ahead of them, he sensed something truly malevolent. A creature without a soul. Or whatever passed for a soul in this day and age. On his arm was a blonde much like his mother. This one didn't have a choice of which age she chose to display. He felt pity for the poor creatures, forever trapped in the one image of their flesh. There was little doubt in a hundred years they would be so far behind their times they would stand out.
He shared the idea with Maude and she smiled. After a brief hesitation, he decided his curiosity, in this case, could be indulged. They moved to stand in front of the pair, Ezra seizing up the larger man with a possessive eye. They were taller now, but still so limited in the looks department. Though this one held a certain mystic, the same could not be said for the female. She was as dreadfully boring as the rest of these piss ant mortals.
Holding out his hand for the soulless beauty, he smiled. "My name is Ezra Standish. You must be the Angelus, a demon with the face of an angel. Whatever an Angel is. Mother still can't tell me quite what one is without me erupting in peals of laughter. A single divine being, who'd ever heard of such a silly notion?"
"Aye, angels are quite fanciful creatures." Angelus glanced back at the other, what he couldn't say, but it intrigued him to find out if it screamed as lovely as it looked.
"Angelus, don't be such a bore, introduce us." His petty little arm thing, flashed demonic visage that quickly turned back to her normal face.
Ezra couldn't believe this. They were holdovers, something he had in fact heard about, but never dreamed to see. So these things claimed to be vampires. What a pathetic notion. Demon infested mortals, a simple cleansing spell would restore the soul and cast the demon out. Sharing another glance with his mother, Ezra turned to leave. So much for pretty amusements.
They made it three paces before the half demon was in front of them again. This time he and the blonde thing were in their full demonic visage. "Oh, I don't think we were done yet."
"Stupid and possessed, now that is really quite disgusting." Maude gave him a glance over. "And such a pretty package you were, too."
"Listen, old woman, I'd hold my tongue around him before he ripped it out." The blonde stepped forward, her breast emphasized with each movement.
"My guess is you were a whore when turned." Giving the half demon a superior smirk, Maude closed her eyes in a bored expression. "Ezra, darling, let us go. I grow weary of the trash wondering these streets."
Darla reached out to grab Maude by the throat only to find her hand caught in the vice grip of Ezra. "Sticking up for your old hag?"
"There is no need." Using his abilities, he forced the half demons to their knees, crushing the ground around them under his will. "Midden refuse such as yourselves shall never disgrace her with your presence, let alone your touch. I suggest that the both of you tell this Master I quite understand the source of his powers and am no longer interested in any thing he may offer. If he values his existence, he shall stay out of Kindred affairs."
"There is no need to be so rash, Ezra. Perhaps we could speak with their Master." Turning her eyes on him, she tried to force her will upon him. When it didn't work, she tightened her grip. "Ezra, darling."
"Yes, mother?"
"Let them go." This time, it took all her strength, but she made him comply. When he had released the vampires from his grip, Maude smiled at them. "Where is this Master of yours. I have much to speak with him about."
Standing, Angelus growled at the Kindred in front of him. He was about to make a move on them, but Darla put out her hand to stop him. "But Darla."
"Darling boy, learn when to fight the battles you can. Let me do the thinking for both of us." Turning to face her new enemies, Darla smiled. "Besides, the Master wants to deal with them personally. If you follow me." Swishing her skirts, she tucked tail and headed off down the allies.
Ezra made a kissing motion to Angelus, but stopped when Maude elbowed him hard. He growled at his mother, but kept to himself. Still arm in arm, they followed off after Darla leaving Angelus behind them. They walked through the streets and he knew that Darla was deliberately leading them in circles by the route they were using. "If you do not cease this charade, I shall rip the skin from your body slowly."
Smirking over her shoulder, Darla turned down an alley he knew they had passed before. "Promise?"
"One I intend to keep." Soon they were coming out at a large inn in the heart of the city. He knew the Witch Hunters would have themselves a screaming orgasm to know its occupants. Witch Hunters screaming always made him happy. The damned religious zealots had hunted his clan to almost extinction and he intended to repay the favor in full. The resulting murders had divided his kind in to three groups.
Many of his clan and a couple others had formed a savage, vampiric version of this Catholic church, complete with Bishops. It amused him the dark humor of his clan. The others were the high society, supposed civilized order, Camarilla. They claimed all Children of Caine as their members. Bunch of damned hypocrites, the whole lot of them. Then there was those like himself, independent and preferred to keep it that way. Either side got in his way and he would bring the lofty halls they supposedly dwelt in down on them.
The doors opened for them as they arrived. Darla walked in without a second thought.
Glancing at his mother, Ezra raised an eyebrow, but followed anyways. The room was dark but for the fire place. Once they were inside, the doors closed and sconces all around them were ignited. A truly grotesque creature stood in the center of the room of remanent vampires.
"Ah, good, you have come after all. I had thought you changed your mind." Holding out his hands, he gestured to the gathered. "These are mine, all of them."
"Master." Maude inclined her head towards the deformed man. "This is the one I told you about. I apologize it has take me so long to bring him around, but it was not easy teaching him. He has been away a very long time."
"Just how long was it? Even I can teach a pig manners in less than a fraction of the time you've been gone." The Master stepped forward to examine the Kindred on Maude's arm.
"Not another step." Ezra raised a hand, the air between them shimmered and appeared to solidify. "I do not know what is happening here, mother, but I suggest you explain this instant."
"You forget your place, Ezra." Slamming her fist in his back, she knocked him to his knees. "Do not interfere or I will have your head."
Groaning from the broken bones in his back, Ezra knelt in front of the creature he barely considered worth acknowledging. He endured the probing touch on his face and neck, even the sampling of his blood. When the Master's minions moved in to strip him, he raised his hands and sent them flying.
"That is enough." Clapping his hands together, the Master smiled down at his new prize. "Wonderful. What else can he do?"
"Mother, what have you done?" He stared up at Maude in betrayal.
Coming to stand directly in front of him, her face resumed the youthful expression of Modra. "You know better than anyone what time can do to a person, Raziel."
Ezra grasped as pain filled his head. Memories, ancient memories, filled him. Millennia of torture and pain at the hands of his captors. Ultimately forgetting who he was and accepting the lies they told him. "You betrayed me!"
"No, much like now, I have done what I had to to survive." Grasping his chin in her hand, she twisted his face to show the animalistic stripes that spread across his skin. The fur of his true form once again making its appearance after eight thousand years. "Behold, the true face of my pet. The last Guardian of the Ziggorat in the city of Ancient Ur, childe of Ennoia. Master, I gift him to you as he was once gifted to me. Do we have a bargain?"
"How do you control him?" The Master was almost giddy in his excitement. He reached out a clawed hand to rustle the furred stripe along Ezra's brow. When Ezra nipped at his hand, he jerked it back and cackled in amusement.
"He is blood bonded to me, as I will be to you. All you need but do is give me your blood once more and I will be your creature to command." She stepped forward in anticipation.
The Master held up his wrist and pulled back the cuff of his shirt. "By all means, drink." Watching Ezra, he gave her his arm. "Do so and become mine."
Ezra watched as the creature he had considered his sire for most of his existence bound him to yet another sadistic creature. Closing his eyes, he hung his head. He never saw the blow come from behind as the creature called Angelus kicked him in to unconsciousness.
Ezra grew restless since they had moved to this city by the bay. Water had made him nervous since his first journey across the ocean. This most recent trip had been peaceful. They had locked him in a death sleep with magic and he'd been released from it when they had arrived. Apparently they didn't trust the hold they had on him.
It didn't take him long to figure out why. Maude was drinking more and more from humans just to keep up with the constant control required to handle him. He knew from his memory he was at least a half a millennium older than her. They were of the same generation from Caine, their source, each having been embraced by the eldest of their lines. He had more abilities due to his exposure to magics and forced learning by Tzimisce. He was also the more dangerous of the two. She didn't have half the mental control he did, and her clan were known for their domination. It didn't take him long to understand why.
She was never going to get anymore powerful. She was limited by her narrow acceptance and it was driving her insane. The fact her touch and that of every female repulsed him only sent her faster in to the frenzy. Maude, it seemed, could not accept that fact and it made her accept the religious indoctrination she had learned to fit in these past two millennia.
To spite her, he had spent most of his time in beast form, repulsing her even further. To do an animal was even greater a taboo than a catamite. Now he had slipped her reins for a short time and was flying over the hills in owl form. The sight of garou ahead, made his blood boil and he decided to it was time to feed.
Before he could land, a group of thugs came up the other side of the ridge and shot the leader of the garou. Getting an idea, he sent out his will upon them. Dominating their will was a laughable experience, they were easily controlled. It was then he noticed the leader of the garou. He had encountered the man before.
Half a century before, when he was still learning the ways of this modern world, he had lost the home he had claimed as his own to this slave. The part of him that still sounded Tzimisce railed at the idea of losing his home. Tzimisce were extremely territorial creatures and he had been one in spirit for almost eight thousand years. Oh yes, this bastard was going to pay.
But first, he had a group of thugs so to deal with. Walking to them, he released some of his control on them. Willing their leader forward, Ezra made the man kneel down in front of him. "Why are you here?"
"We were hired to take this mine from the nigger and his family."
Glancing at the dead slave, he noticed it was healing. Frowning, he walked over and drove the knife from the slave's hand through his heart. Ezra smiled and dusted off his hands. "Now, suppose you inform me just who told you to do such a crazy thing as that?"
"Name's Maude. Said we'd get half of what we mined. We're gonna keep it all, fuck the bitch."
Blue eyes flowing red, Ezra thumbed his pocket watch. "Yes, the bitch," he muttered. Replacing it in his pocket, he glanced down at the men. "I have sent the Garou back to their camp. You men are going to head over to that there cliff. Once there, you will jump off and never again bother another person. Ta, and have a nice trip." Dismissing them from them from mind, he turned back to the slave.
Smiling darkly, Ezra knew it was only a short time before Maude discovered he was gone and he would have to return to her. He would fight her control every step of the way, but it was an inevitability. Time to get down to business if he was going to have any fun with this damned slave.
Ezra froze. The sight at the end of the bar made him forget the drink he held half way to his mouth. Setting it down, he cleared his throat. He gestured for the bar tender. "Bring me the entire bottle of whatever that man down there is having." He waited until the bar man returned with it, handed over a gold piece and walked down to the stunning creature that had caught his eye.
Ass clad in buckskin breeches with enough ratty tears to show the haired skin beneath, the man seemed to flex it just for Ezra's pleasure. He couldn't help what he did next. Reaching out, he stuck a finger in the largest of the tears and ran his finger along the skin. The man turned around to face him with a glare that dissipated at the sight of Ezra.
The warmth of the man's gaze sent a shiver down his spine and Ezra leaned in closer. Capturing the man's mouth with his own, Ezra tasted every inch of the mortal. He began to rub against him with a frantic need, free hand and bottle grasping for any flesh they could gain purchase on. They didn't break apart until the bartender patted the bar. "If you and the tramp want a room, it's gonna cost you extra."
Licking his lips, Vin smiled. "I don't mine paying, if you're selling." Hand resting on Ezra's hip, he fingered the belt loop. "You're the prettiest one I've seen this side of the Texas border."
Ezra frowned in confusion. "I am not sure what you are implying."
"You ain't gotta worry none bout me. I've been on the trail too long to care what people think about you. You gotta earn a livin, I'm more than willin, lets get that room." Reaching behind him, Vin pulled out a silver dollar and slapped it on the bar. "How much for the night?"
"I'm..." Then he thought it over again. Anything he did would get back to Maude. If he even allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of this being more, he knew she would use it against him. "I'm not sure, depends on what you want."
Glancing Ezra up and down, Vin pulled him closer until Ezra was almost on top of him. "Lets make it a night and you can tally it up." Vin placed his face against Ezra's neck and planted a kiss that made the ancient shiver. Smiling, he twisted them away from the bar.
"Third door at the top of the stairs." The bartender turned to assist another patron after pocketing the silver dollar.
"Lets go." Guiding the smiling Ezra by the waist, Vin led them up the stairs. Along the way he didn't pay any mind to the hands that kept in close contact with his skin.
As the door shut, Ezra wondered just what in the world had possessed him.
Ezra sat up in the bed, hand sliding down to capture the seeking appendage and stop whoever it was from assaulting his person. When he caught the hand, he was met with a warm chuckle that instantly sent him falling back against the bed. He laid there in a daze as the young man sat up to look him in the eyes.
"Mornin, Ez." Vin tassled his hair and glanced at the wind up clock on the wash basin stand. "Eight in the mornin, looks like our time is up." Stretching, he leaned over Ezra for one last kiss. "Will ten cover your services?"
In a foggy haze, Ezra merely nodded. It came to him that he was acting less like himself and more like one of these thoughtless mortals. The only problem was he just couldn't bring himself to care. Something about the young man who was as of this moment pulling back on his buck skin breeches, kept him beyond such trivial matters like survival instincts. However, he had the presence of mind to ask one question. "What are you?"
Vin glanced over his shoulder, smirking at the ancient. "What's the matter, Ez?"
"I don't care." This time he actively tried to fight the lethargy. He nearly succeeded until Vin placed a hand on his stomach. Hissing at the contact, he stretched up to feel more.
Chuckling, Vin pushed Ezra back down on the bed. "Sorry, but I only got the one ten dollar coin."
"Money has never mattered to me before, Mr. Tanner." Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around Vin's neck and pulled him close. When they were but a hair's breath away, Ezra began kissing Vin along his jaw line.
Vin cleared his throat as he tried to remember why this was a bad idea. The ancient kissing him along his throat didn't help with his thinking problem. "Ez, I have ta go."
"Just one," he kissed him on the neck, so close to his goal, "more," another one and he would be there, "thing." Right above the pulse point, Ezra felt his fangs descend. He opened his mouth and placed a kiss upon the skin.
Vin felt the nip of teeth and pulled away. "No. No more. I have to go."
Ezra growled in frustration. Glaring up at the young man, he forced himself to keep hold of his human form. "You have the timing of a stubborn mule."
"And you could tempt a saint. But that don't change the fact I gotta go. There's some people I have to meet up with in half an hour, Ez. It's a really big deal that could make me a lotta money. When I finish it, I promise I'll come back here and we'll pick up where I left off." Rubbing his sore neck, Vin began to chuckle. "You gotta nice set of sharp ones."
"Thank you, I do pride myself on my fangs." To prove it, Ezra popped open his mouth and hissed at Vin, clawing the air like a cat. "Now depart before I completely forget myself and give up my trade for free."
Laughing again, Vin put on his hat and walked towards the door. "See ya in a couple months, Ez. Keep yourself out of trouble." He closed it after him leaving Ezra alone in the room.
When the young man had departed, Ezra felt the sudden pang of loss hit him hard. It hurt so bad his body began to shake. His skin rippled and shifted until he was once more in guardian form. Glancing up at the wash basin mirror, Ezra took in his true appearance. Tiger striped fur covered him from head to toe. Fangs and claws completed the image. The only thing left of the human being he had once been were his blue eyes. With a snarl, he reached out and smashed the mirror.