As he drove up the winding path, the young man considered again the course of
action he was about to embark on. Once begun, it would be impossible to stop the
wheels from turning. He had thought long and hard about the step he was taking,
but there was nothing else to do.
He could see the house now, looming on the hill in the darkness. The woods
that framed the property provided excellent cover from the road below, and the
trees that surrounded the house would provide some degree of protection from the
sky. He knew the house was a veritable fortress, he was under no illusions about
that. He was expected, and despite the fact that all his senses were on full
alert, he was safe.
Slowly he inched his car toward the imposing gate. After glancing in the
rearview mirror to ensure no one was behind him, he extended his hand out the
window and pushed the button on the call box. A moment later he heard a soft
voice speak, "The master bids you welcome." The iron gates before him opened
just wide enough to allow him passage. He pulled up to the main house and
wearily extracted himself from the vehicle. It had been a long trip, while he
could have made it here faster by air, he had decided that the ground would
provided him the opportunity to do some necessary planning in peace.
He approached the front door with trepidation. Well, no going back now.
His hand reached for the knocker, but before he could take hold, the large oak
door began to glide open. Peering into the darkness, he could make out a small
figure just inside the threshold. The figure moved forward so that the light of
the moon upon his face revealed the leathery skin that comes with age and the
far away stare that is left behind when you've sold your soul. He made a
welcoming gesture to the guest at the door. "He is waiting for you. Please
follow me."
The young man followed his guide, his eyes scanning his surrounding
carefully. Old habits die-hard. The house was dimly lit, but he did not
require much light to be able to navigate even the most serpentine of paths.
He was led into a large glass enclosed atrium. Immediately his eyes closed on
the man before him. Older than he, the man was a sight to be marveled at. It was
not that the man was physically imposing; in reality he was of medium height and
only slightly more than medium build. But the presence of him could not be
ignored. His chiseled features were formed into a mask of ice that he wore well,
as if it had been a lifelong companion. He was seated in a high back leather
armchair more suited to a corporate boardroom than a suburban mansion.
"Welcome, Alexei. It's been a long time. What brings you to my door?" His voice
was like raw silk; flowing and rough with just a hint of warmth that never
failed to disarm.
"Hello, Sire. I'm sorry for..." the hand raised before him stopped him in
mid-sentence.
"There is no need to apologize. Your absence has been necessary." The look of
surprise on the younger man's face brought a small laugh to his sire's lips.
"Did you really think that I wouldn't keep track of my favorite progeny?"
"I was unaware of your interest in my dealings." He was at a loss. He had gone
to great lengths to ensure that his life remained concealed.
"Alexei, for one that has spent countless lifetimes remaining hidden from view,
it is an easy task to observe someone else doing the same. I know of your
dealings and what they concern. More to the point who they concern. But you
haven't answered my question. What brings you?"
Pushing the shock away, the younger man recomposed himself. He should have known
better than to think his sire would be ignorant of the world he had saturated
himself in. "There is a threat. One that I cannot contain. I need your help,
Krane."
"Why should this concern me or my city?"
Alex Krycek spoke with an air of finality that gave his words the gravity they
needed. "It concerns us all."
two houses away...
She sat on the balcony overlooking her lands. Off in the distance she could hear
the younger of her kind hunting the property. They were safe here; she had made
sure of that.
She had created a haven for those who wished to hide themselves from the eye of
the sun. The land's perimeter was fenced and fortified with surveillance cameras
and heat sensors. Hounds under her command patrolled the body of the property.
The grounds themselves were heavily wooded providing plenty of shadow to hide
behind. There were caves to shield her guests from the daylight, and the woods
were kept well supplied with small animals to feed them at night. She had taken
care of her Prince's clansmen well.
The sound of the doorbell brought her back from her revelry. She walked back
into the house through the glass French doors. The room was comfortable in the
classic style of old money. The warm glow off the mahogany-paneled walls was a
reflection of the only light in the room—the glow within the fireplace. The
scent of the leather sofas and the aroma of the burning wood filled the air. But
for all the things in this room that could bring her comfort, the only thing
that did was him.
She entered the room silently, not wanting to disturb his thoughts. Her look
took him in completely. She could see the tension that enveloped him from head
to toe. Standing maybe five feet from the hearth, his far away stare fixed on
the dancing flames within. Indeed, that same flame seemed to dance within his
eyes. She watched him draw closer to the warmth and brace one hand against the
mantle that leveled at his chest. The closest thing to the smile of Dagda he
will ever know ...the thought gripped her. It was the cruelest of destinies
to be the servant of a god whose face you could never see. She felt helpless in
the face of the torment before her.
His hand began to reach toward the inviting light...to touch if only for a
moment...NO, her heart screamed but she held her tongue. This was his torment
and his alone.
"Sir,"...his hand molded into a fist of iron at the sound of the voice behind
him. The servant entered the room, his eyes darting from his master to her
guest. In a moment, the tortured soul she had been watching in silence was gone.
In his place, she saw her Prince. The change had been instantaneous, but
unmistakable. This was a man whose heart knew no torment. This was a man who
ruled his world absolutely. "Krane requests an audience for his childer. What
shall I tell him?"
"Tell him I look forward to his company." As the servant turned to go, the
Prince looked up, and for the first time became aware of her presence. "Good
evening, Baroness." His face was a mask of stone, but the light of the fire
danced in his eyes still.
"Good evening, my Prince." She lowered her eyes, humbled by his gaze.
He moved away from his shrine and seated himself in the center of the sofa that
faced the entrance to the room. As she parted her lips to speak, her servant
reappeared in the doorway, ushering in her new guests. "Thank you, Phillipe.
That will be all." They were not the words she intended to say, but was suddenly
grateful they were the ones she spoke. No one moved until Phillipe bowed
slightly and left.
"Hello, my friend." The Prince spoke even as he motioned for them to enter the
room further. Knowing his place, Krycek followed his sire's lead. He knew
nothing of the man seated on the couch except that he was the prince of this
city, and that he had made Krane his right arm—his Scourge.
"Hello, Morgan." Krane replied.
The two men watched as a delicate looking woman made her way from the glass
doors at the edge of the room to a position directly behind her Prince's left
shoulder. She smiled and nodded her head at Krane in greeting. Krycek noted the
exchange with fascination as his sire acknowledged her. He had never known Krane
to be a warm man, yet he addressed this woman with sincere affinity, as if they
shared a bond not unlike two soldiers dedicated to the same cause.
"May I present my childer—Alexei. Alexei, this is Father Morgan Black...Prince
of Dark City. And this is his Seneschal...Baroness Angelique Gabrielle."
Morgan Black rose to his feet and faced the man directly. "You are the childer
of my Scourge; as such, I bid you welcome to my city. You are safe here."
The implication was clear and Krycek needed no further explanation. He was
protected from the others of their kind within the boundaries of this city, but
his conduct here would be a reflection on his sire. "Thank you, my lord. You
have my sire's loyalty, and so you have mine." Out of the corner of his eye he
saw Krane's expression of approval. He had spoken well.
Returning to his place on the sofa, Morgan eased into a more familiar air. "How
may I be of service?"
With a glance to Krane, Kryeck received the nod of permission he needed to
continue. "For the past few years I have spent my time protecting Kindred
interests from the affairs of mortals. Now, a threat has arisen to the lives of
two mortals who are intricate to my plans. I seek protection for them."
"What have these mortals done to warrant my intervention on their behalf?"
It was Krane who explained. "There is an invasion coming from a force not of
this world. These mortals have been trying to prevent it and as a result have
placed themselves directly in its path. There are those who wish to see this
invasion succeed, and not all of them are mortal."
"Do you mean to tell me that this "threat" to which your childer alludes is from
one of our own?" No shock, no fear...he simply wanted to clarify the facts.
The question was directed at his Scourge, but Krycek could not restrain himself.
This was no time to stand on ceremony. "My lord, please understand. At this
time, I have no way of being sure from where the danger originates. But there is
evidence to suggest that the attack will come from somewhere among the Kindred.
If these mortals are left to die, there will be no one to take their place. The
invasion will proceed unchecked, and we will be left without a food source."
Krycek's voice was taut like untempered leather. Even with the distance between
them, Morgan Black could smell his fear.
Krane had always trained his childer well. They could fight and win, and they
knew it. With that knowledge had always come an air of arrogance that Morgan,
having the heart of a warrior himself, could not help but respect. This man was
no exception. And yet, here he stood looking back at Morgan with a battle weary
face, riddled with dread. "Why come to me? Do you feel you cannot protect them
yourself?"
Kyrcek replied slowly, measuring his words carefully. "I have a history with
these two. Many times we have fallen on opposite sides of a battle. They know
nothing of who or what I am...or of my real purpose. The best protection
I can offer them is to uncover the snare set for them and eliminate it. They
need never know of my involvement." The Baroness watched as he cast his eyes
downward to the floor. Perhaps, someday, he would favor her with the tale of
this "history."
"What you ask of me is no easy task. You want me to bring them into our society
- expose them to it. The Masquerade will be breached..." Morgan let his words
trail off and carry their implication with them. He rose to his feet and turned
to face the warmth of the fire once more. After a few thought-filled moments, he
sighed his conclusion. "I will meet with my council. You will have my answer by
the next moon."
It was a dismissal. As the two men turned to go, the Prince spoke again.
"Krane?"
"Yes, Morgan?"
"See that the entire Counsel is assembled here tomorrow night. Ten o'clock...no
earlier." He had not turned back to face them.
"Okay, Morgan." Krane raised his arm, gesturing for Krycek to preceed him out.
When the front door had closed behind them, the young progeny turned to his
sire.
"What will he do?"
"Don't worry, he will see to their safety. We'll just have to wait and see. Come
child, it's time to feed. We will all need our strength for what is to come."
They began to walk in silence and were soon swallowed into the shadows.
The sun rose—the sun set, and soon the crescent moon was shining brightly
in the sky. The hours that had passed since Morgan's meeting with Krane and Alex
Krycek had not passed peacefully.
When the Baroness crossed the foyer into his study, she saw him seated behind
the large oak desk. His elbows rested heavily on the arms of the chair; fingers
poised together at the tips and raised to the bridge of his nose...he was the
picture of the servant king. Often she could feel the emotions that radiated to
her from her Prince, but tonight he had fully guarded himself. She could sense
nothing in him save the walls he had deliberately erected. When he was ready for
her to know, he would reveal himself. Of this fact she was sure.
"Have you reached your decision yet?" her tone cautious, ever weary of the
respect he had earned.
"There is no decision to be made—only action to be taken. The Kindred must be
protected. And it appears that my city will have to be the instrument of that
protection."
He knew she could read him if she chose, but she wouldn't. She would never
intrude on him uninvited. She would never abuse the trust he placed in her; it
was too hard earned. Always calm even when the situation was not, always the
statesman in the midst of Philistines, she was the enlightened word in a myriad
of raised sabers, and he valued her for that. There had been times when they did
not see eye to eye; there had been times when she strongly opposed the course he
had started upon, but never did she allow differing opinions to sever her
support of him. She stood by his side resolutely with an unwavering faith. She
had proven her loyalty time and again, and yet there were still moments
he found that the Prince must be prince alone.
"It's time, my Lord. Your Counsel awaits you." If there were anything she could
have done to lift this burden from him...but there was nothing she could do but
follow where he led. And so, as he left his study and entered the Counsel
chamber, she did just that.
As the Baroness took her seat beside Krane, Morgan scanned the room to ensure
each of the Primogen was present. Satisfied that every clan in the city was
represented, he took his place at the table, but remained standing.
"Thank you all for coming. Krane, would you please explain to the Counsel the
circumstances you described to me yesterday?" That said, Morgan took his seat.
As Krane spoke, the Prince searched the faces of those seated around him,
gauging their reactions. For the most part, his gaze was met with visible
astonishment, until his eyes fell on Shroud.
Not a Primogen, Shroud did not sit at the table with the Counsel. He was an
Archon—a representative of the inner circle that governed all Kindred. He
stood behind his progeny, Grendal, and observed the goings on in this City from
the shadows with an expression of stone. When Krane had finished his
explanation, Morgan watched as Shroud leaned forward from the waist to whisper
in the Nosferatu Primogen's ear.
"Now that you all understand the situation, if any of you have anything to say,
now would be the time," Morgan stated flatly. He wondered how long it would take
before Grendal spouted his sire's objections.
"Father Morgan," Grendal began. Well that didn't take long at all,
Morgan mused to himself. "I fear that this course of action may not be in our
best interests. Surely there must be some other way to protect these people
without jeopardizing the Masquerade." Grendal may not have been the most
diplomatic one in the room, but he certainly knew when to tread lightly. This
was just such a time.
"I understand your concerns, Grendal," Morgan replied. He glanced over Grendal's
shoulder, directly into the face of the Archon, then returned his attention to
the Counsel. "I have considered the other possibilities, and if it is true that
the threat comes from a member of the Kindred, it would be almost impossible to
protect them without direct intervention. And for them to be brought here under
false pretenses would only create a disadvantage to us. These two are not fools.
They would sense something amiss and try to discover the secret. But if they
know they are being protected, and why, they will work with us, not against us,
to preserve themselves."
The logic was sound and could not be refuted. Nevertheless, a point had to be
made, and despite the fact that he was out of line to do so, it was Shroud who
was going to make it. "So you are willing to personally accept responsibility
for this breach of the Masquerade?"
"I don't believe I was addressing you, but since you inquired, your answer is
simple. I accept responsibility for everything that happens within MY domain.
The mortals will be brought to me. They are under my protection and not to be
touched. Please be sure your clansmen receive word. Any member of any clan that
breaks my law will answer directly to me." Morgan left no room for argument. The
decision was made—the Prince had spoken.
"Since there are no other objections, I bid you good evening." Morgan rose and
left the room to return to the quiet of his study. He sank back into his chair
and waited. He knew they wouldn't be far behind. When all the Primogen had left,
and silence reigned the house again, those Morgan trusted most joined him in his
sanctum.
"With your permission, Baroness, I would like them brought here. I would like
them to be comfortable—I know you can see to that better than anyone," he said
with a sardonic smile.
"Of course, my Prince. I and my home are at your disposal always."
Nodding his appreciation, he turned toward the window. Seemingly lost in his
own thoughts, his next words fell from his lips like tears down a child's cheek.
"Krane...bring them to me."
Hoover Building Washington D.C
The autumn sun had already set as they left the solitude of their offices. It
had been some time since they had returned from their adventure in Antarctica,
and life was just starting to get to as close to normal as it was going to—considering the revelations they had been presented with. How do you go back to
day-to-day functions when you know that a planned Armageddon is being put in
place, and that someday in the future an extraterrestrial force will colonize
planet Earth, using its inhabitants as hosts to gestate its population? The
answer is—you don't. But for Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully this knowledge
was simply par-for-the-course of their lives; lives that, for the past six
years, had been spent in pursuit of proof of this information. But even for
Clark Kent, the workday ended occasionally, so tonight they were on their way
home.
As he walked side by side with his partner, a protective hand on the small of
her back, Mulder scanned the area carefully.
It caught his eye the moment they entered secured parking structure. Living
the kind of paranoia that afflicted Mulder lent itself to developing certain
habits—not the least of which was being aware of your surroundings at all
times. A black van with blacked out windows parked in the secured lot at FBI
headquarters...sounds like a pathetic plot twist in a B-movie, he thought
sarcastically.
The half curl of his mouth spiked her interest. "What's so funny?"
"Do you think that is for us?" He pointed at the suspicious vehicle with
one hand while reaching to unsnap his weapon with the other. Instinctively, she
went into the same reflex in case she needed to back him up. When he saw the
side door of the van swing open, he stepped slightly ahead of her, positioning
his body between her and harm.
Slowly, four men began to emerge taking up calculated positions surrounding the
agents. In an instant, Mulder and Scully had their weapons drawn and at the
ready. "Stay where you are and put your hands where I can see them!"
Her feminine voice held an air of assured authority rarely seen among the more
gentle of the species...Krane was mildly amused. "Go on, boys, show her your
hands," he said with a chuckle, as he stepped forward from behind the van.
Obeying their order immediately, his men demonstrated their hands showing that
they were unarmed. They moved in closer, tightening the net that kept the agents
in place. "Stop where you are; do not come any closer, or we will fire." The
agents stood back to back trying to watch the movements of all their would be
assailants, their weapons trained at center mass.
Let's see how open they are to extreme possibilities, Krane thought to
himself. There was no reason to test them at this point, but he knew it would at
the very least be amusing. He nodded to the smallest of the men encircling the
agents, "Take their guns."
He took one sure step toward them as Mulder leveled his gun squarely at him.
"Stop where you are or so help me God, I'll shoot you where you stand," his
voice strained. Krane watched closely; what he saw wasn't fear. No, this man was
not afraid. There was something there behind this mortal's eyes...rage. He was
enraged! "How remarkable! Alexei, has chosen his allies well," he thought with
gratified approval.
As the smaller man continued to move closer, Mulder fired, hitting him dead
center in the chest twice.
At the sound of Mulder's weapon being discharged, Scully turned slightly.
Glancing up at him, she saw the shock that registered on his face then turned to
face the wounded man. She saw the wounds in the victim's chest; she saw the
blood pouring forth; she saw the victim still standing, seemingly unaffected by
the injuries that were just inflicted on him.
"As you can see, your weapons have little affect on those of my kind." The gleam
in Krane's eyes was triumphant, relishing the power he wielded.
"Who are you?" Mulder asked weakly, his eyes squinting with confusion.
"All in due time, Agent Mulder. All in due time. Felix, if you would..." Krane
tilted his head in the direction of the two stunned mortals.
Silently, the man standing to Scully's right stepped forward, an expression of
concentration contorting his face. The words he spoke were the last thing that
registered in Mulder and Scully's minds. "Sleep now."
The mansion of the Baroness
As Scully began to stir, she forced herself to linger just a moment longer and
enjoy the soft warm place her mind had taken her. She nuzzled a little tighter
into the thick blankets and relished the final traces of her peaceful slumber.
Opening her eyes slowly, she allowed herself a long languid stretch.
Suddenly fully aware that she had no idea where she was, she leaped from her
bed. She reached to her side searching for her gun only to find that it wasn't
there. That was when the panic set in.
She ran to the window and peered out into the darkness, hoping to find some
evidence of her location. All she found was the black curtain of night draped
over some heavily wooded lands. Consumed by dread her thoughts turned to Mulder.
"Oh, no...not again," she sighed as her face fell heavily into her hands.
She pushed back the tears that threatened in her eyes and forced herself to
think rationally. She knew there must be a way out, she just had to find it. For
the first time since she awoke, her eyes began to take in her surroundings with
the precision of a scientist. She surveyed the room inch by inch, taking it
apart as if she were wielding a scalpel.
The furnishings were elegant in their simplicity. She looked at the bed she had
risen from just minutes before. It was a beautiful four poster black cast iron
bed frame, with sheer white nylon draped across the top and down one side. A
large white pine dresser with a tri-fold mirror was unobtrusively tucked into
one corner, and the matching night tables were on either side of the bed. The
only other piece of furniture in the room was a black cast iron dressing table
and stool. Scully scanned through the contents of the table and found it well
supplied with nothing but the finest perfumes and ointments. Upon closer
inspection, she saw that it was also stocked with her favorite cosmetics, all in
her chosen shades and colors.
With a feeling of imposing doom, she walked over to the closet and flung open
the door. Flipping through the hangers she saw all her favorite designers and
every article of clothing was in her size. "Oh my God," her heart screamed as
her pulse began race.
She ran back to the window and tried the latch, but it required a key and was
bolted shut. Quickly, she found her way over to the door. Placing her hand on
the knob, and turning slowly, she found that it was unlocked. She could not stop
her next thought... Into the lion's den we go. She opened the door
boldly and the stepped back from the man that faced her; her breath caught in
her throat as she appraised him.
"Good evening, Agent Scully. I trust you've found your accommodations
acceptable?" He was polite and cordial and completely terrifying. Standing seven
feet tall if he was an inch, he towered over her like a mountain. His height was
only surpassed by the sheer bulk of his shoulders and chest. He was the largest
being she had ever seen. And yet for all his imposing size, he was not trying to
intimidate her.
"Where am I? Where's Mulder?" she stammered.
"All will be revealed to you in due time. My name is Sebastian McCombs. I'm
here to escort you downstairs; your host awaits your company. Would you like a
few more minutes to freshen up?" He smiled at her with no warmth and no malice.
It was his ability to remain so unreadable that made her feel the need to be
prepared to strike. She wished desperately for the feel of her gun in her hand.
As if able to read her thoughts on her face, Sebastian tried to reassure her.
"Your weapon, as ineffective as it might be, will be returned to you shortly.
Please come with me." It was not a request for she knew she had no other choice.
Trailing two steps behind him, she followed his lead down the lushly carpeted
hall and then down the main staircase. They turned sharply to the left and
stopped at a closed door. "You have nothing to fear here." For some reason, his
words held no reassurance.
Opening the door for her, he gestured for her to proceed into the dimly lit
room. "Mulder..." she exhaled as she took the three steps that brought her to
his side. The air returned to her body as she felt that familiar hand press
securely to her back. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"I assure you Agent Mulder has not been injured, nor will either of you be
harmed while you are in my city." Scully turned to see that the voice had
come from the man seated in the chair behind the desk. But despite the
confidence, with which the assurance had been given, she returned her attention
to Mulder for confirmation.
"I'm fine, Scully." His voice was sure and calm, but his eyes spoke another
story entirely.
Scully surveyed the room, quickly. Starting from the door where she entered, her
gaze traveled around the room in clockwise rotation. She saw the rich, dark oak
desk with the man seated behind it in a high back leather chair. To his right
she saw a delicate looking woman with long sable colored hair. Her face was
familiar, but for some reason Scully couldn't place her. Sebastian had taken up
a position to the left of the seated man. Behind the desk were bookshelves set
into the walls and filled with leather bound volumes. Her eyes continued their
journey to the large bay picture window and stopped at the man seated on the
sill. He was shadowed, but it didn't matter. Even if she couldn't see him, she
could feel the cold that wafted off of him.
When he was satisfied that Scully had acquired her bearings, the Prince rose
from the desk and crossed the room toward them. "My name is Morgan Black, and I
am Prince of this region." The look of confusion on the mortal's faces almost
amused him. "I know there are many things you do not understand right now, but I
hope to soon alleviate your concerns. Allow me to make my explanations first and
then I will answer any remaining questions. Agreed?"
The agents both nodded their heads silently and waited.
"Good." Morgan turned and reclaimed his place behind the desk and motioned for
Mulder and Scully to be seated on the sofa behind them. "Well, let's begin with
some introductions." He turned to Sebastian and nodded.
"Since Agent Scully and I have already met, allow me to introduce myself to you,
Agent Mulder. I am Father Sebastian McCombs." He turned to the woman to his
right and gestured with an open palm. "This is the woman who will be making
decisions about your life in the Prince's absence. Seneschal of Dark City—Baroness Angelique Gabrielle."
A wave of understanding passed over Scully's face. So that's where I know
her from. She turned to Mulder to see if he had reached the same
realization, but his face was impassive.
"And I believe you've both met the Prince's Scourge—Krane." The man seated on
the sill of the bay window stood up and stepped into the light.
"You!" Mulder was suddenly on his feet and with a slight twist of his body
shielding Scully. She rose behind him and placed her hand gently on his arm.
The Prince spoke in hushed tones. "Agent Mulder, rest assured, if I had wanted
either of you harmed, you would not be standing here today. Krane brought you
here on my order. An order I did not give lightly. Here is the only place
I can guarantee your safety."
"Safety from what?" Mulder bellowed. "You accost us in a parking lot, take us
God knows where against our will, and you expect us to believe you're trying to
protect us?!" His voice had taken on the edge of anger he had been trying to
contain.
The Baroness stepped to the front of the desk and leaned against the corner
nearest Mulder. "Please, just give us a chance to explain. I promise you, if you
just hear us out, you'll understand why you're here." Her eyes were piercing,
searing hot flames that cut into his mind. He felt his anger subside under her
gaze. His face softened and he took his seat once more.
"Thank you, Baroness. Krane, would you please tell them why they are here."
Morgan's voice was weary, but never faltered in its authority.
Krane sat back down on the nest of pillows on the bay window sill, but this time
the light followed him. "It has been brought to our attention that there is an
invasion coming. A colonization by an alien force." He quirked a little smile
when he saw the shock that spread across their faces.
The Baroness interjected, her voice soft and steady,
"Don't be so surprised that we know of such things. We are in every walk of your
mortal lives. We are your policemen and shopkeepers, your doctor's and even your
senators and congressmen. We are among you everywhere just below the surface."
"But who..." but before Mulder could finish his question, Krane continued his
explanation.
"You've made some powerful enemies, Agent Mulder. Much more powerful than I
think you realize. Those enemies want you out of the way. You and Agent Scully
both. You've become an obstacle to their plans that needs to be eliminated. We
want to make sure that doesn't happen."
"What's your interest? Why would you want us protected?" Scully asked.
"Because without you, colonization would be unimpeded," Krane replied. "If the
earth were to be taken over by the force you've both been witness to, our kind
would be left hungry with nothing remaining to feed us."
Mulder was losing patience. "Your kind? Scourge? Seneschal? Just who are you?"
He knew, but he had to hear the answer anyway.
Morgan, who had been staring out the window, turned back to his new wards. This
was it. He had to tell them; this was the final breech of the Masquerade
and responsibility for it had to be his. "You know who we are, Agent Mulder.
You've encountered us once before. But now, you will understand exactly what you
are dealing with."
He rose to his feet. "We are what you have read about; what you have had
nightmares about. We are why you fear the night and cherish the protective smile
of Dagda that comes with the dawn." He bowed his head, and when he lifted his
face once more, he was transformed revealing his true nature. "Perhaps this
explains it more thoroughly." His eyes aglow with predatory furry, his fangs
bared...in that moment he became terror.
Just as quickly as fear had been personified itself, it was gone. Morgan looked
at them once more with sympathetic eyes. "Your safety will help ensure the
survival of my kind. Therefore, I must ensure your survival."
Mulder reclaimed his voice through the haze of confusion fogging his mind. "You
call yourself the 'prince'. What does that mean?"
"It means that in this region, my word is law. I rule here absolutely." Morgan
stepped away from the desk, and glancing sidelong at Sebastian, he turned to the
leather bound books behind him.
Sebastian took up the gauntlet where his Prince had left it. "The world itself
is divided among us—separated into regions we call cities. Each city, if ruled
by the Camarilla, is governed by a Prince whose authority is complete within the
city's boundaries." He allowed them a moment to process the information thus
far, and then he continued. "The Kindred, for that is what we call ourselves,
are made up of thirteen clans. Seven of these clans are represented in the
Camarilla, which is the unifying body of Kindred worldwide. The rest have chosen
to keep themselves separate. In each city, there is a counsel made up of the
head of each clan known as a Primogen. They are the voice of their clan to the
Prince. You will meet the Primogen later." Again he waited for them to mentally
catch up. "The Scourge, " he said, gesturing to Krane, "is the Prince's
enforcer. I act as Prince Black's emissary. The Baroness is Seneschal—or
counselor—and as such, acts for the Prince !
in his absence."
Scully was trying very hard to keep her clinical wits about her. There had to be
some rational explanation for what was happening. "You said that you live among
the 'mortal' world..." she stared intently at the Baroness.
"Yes, Agent Scully. What better place to be concealed than right out in the
open. We protect ourselves by means of something we call the Masquerade. Almost
all Kindred hold the Masquerade as the most sacred of our laws. No kine may know
of our existence and live. The choice to the immortal is simple: bestow the
Embrace or leave the mortal for dead. No breech of the Masquerade is tolerated,
and the consequence is final destruction." When she had finished, the Baroness
turned to her Prince. "My Prince has chosen to take this very dangerous step to
make sure that our species survives. Both of our species."
"What you need to know," Morgan said, turning back to them, "is that
here, I make the rules. And my rules for you are simple. You are not to
leave the house without one of us knowing it. You are not to leave the grounds
without my express permission, and not without a guard. For now that is enough.
As you become accustomed to our way of life, I will explain further. In the mean
time, your dinner awaits you in the dining room. Baroness..." he let the
implication of the command carry with a momentary glance.
She grimaced for a brief instant. In the next moment, her servant presented
himself. "Yes, Madame."
"Phillipe, please show our guests to their meal."
"Yes, Madame." And with a flourish of his arm they were escorted out.
The Prince turned once more to his inner circle. "Watch them; see what they do."
The two agents were shown into an elegantly furnished dining room and seated at
the table set for two. After dinner had been served and the wine poured, they
were left to themselves for the first time.
"Talk to me, Mulder. What's going on here?" she asked with quiet urgency in her
voice.
"Calm down, Scully. We'll figure this out." He grasped her hand reassuringly.
"Let's think this through step by step. They said we've encountered their kind
before...remember your little sheriff friend down in the Lone Star State?" he
asked, trying to hide his mischievous grin behind his wineglass as he sipped
slowly.
"Oh, please! You can't be serious. You aren't suggesting that all these people
are..."
"...undead? Nosferatu? Yeah," he said with a faint chuckle, "that's exactly what
I'm suggesting."
"In that case, Agent Mulder, you'd only be half right." The agents turned to see
the Baroness seated sedately at the opposite end of the long table.
Scully immediately responded. "I really wish you people would just stop
appearing out of thin air."
"I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that some of
us have the innate ability to move around unnoticed—sometimes I forget not
to."
Scully began to reply, but found herself cut off almost immediately by her
partner. "What do you mean 'half right'?" Despite the fact that his question was
directed to their hostess, Mulder's cautioning glare remained on his partner.
They needed to understand this world if they were to survive it; with that in
mind, the Baroness proceeded to explain. "Sebastian mentioned earlier that the
Kindred are made up of different clans. The Nosferatu is only one of them.
Granted they alone among us posses the horrible disfigurement that Hollywood
seems bent on propagating, but I assure you, even they are well gifted at hiding
themselves."
Despite Mulder's caution, Scully needed to speak. "But you are a public figure.
Your face is seen every day on commercials and billboards. How can you be what
you claim and still travel around raising money for starving children?"
Mulder's face was incredulous. "Scully, what are you talking about?"
"Don't you recognize her? Remember those commercials with all the starving
children? 'Can you spare a dime a day?' This is Angelique Gabrielle; she's a
world famous philanthropist who specializes in children's charities." He can
be so thick sometimes, she thought to herself exasperatedly.
The Baroness smiled affably. "You're right, Agent Scully. I am who you say. But
you must understand that just because I am Kindred does not discount the mortal
I once was. We feel the same emotions you do, but from a slightly different
perspective."
"I don't understand," Mulder stated in a tone encouraging her to go on.
"Don't worry...you will. Both of you will. This world is hard to take in all at
once. It took me the first hundred years to get acclimated, don't expect to
understand us overnight. But a word of warning..." they looked at her
quizzically. "You have the run of the house, and may go where you wish, but you
may encounter some interesting characters along the way, especially on the
grounds. Be careful; stay out of their way. Despite the civility you have seen
so far, remember that we are above all else predators. We do feed on the blood
of mortals; though we do not need to kill to survive, there are those who simple
enjoy it." Her matter of fact air pinned her guests' attention. "You are to us
as a steak is to you—food." Then her expression changed, and her concentration
seemed to intensify. "But do not fear, you are under the protection of the
noblest of our kind. Be wise, and you will be safe." With that, she rose from
the table and left them to their meal.
Slightly dazed, but skeptical to the bitter end, Scully voiced her fear. "I
don't like this, Mulder."
"Scully, if they had wanted us dead, we would be already. I'll admit there is
something else going on here that they haven't told us, but I believe they
really are trying to protect us." He sipped his wine again. "I need you to
promise me something..."
"What's that?" Promises to Mulder rarely went unpunished.
"Behave—that's all." With a wink, he lifted a forkful of food to his mouth.
next day.....
As she strolled along the dimly lit corridor, Scully considered all the
things she had seen and experienced the last few days. Inevitably, her thoughts
turned to all the characters in this drama she was trapped in. As a scientist,
Scully couldn't help but be intrigued by these seductive creatures. They were
all so different, and yet they fit together perfectly, as pieces of a puzzle.
Krane, Sebastian, the Baroness—each a tool with a specific role to fill, all
under the direction of their leader. Now there was a paradox to consider—Morgan Black.
She continued at a casual pace, enjoying the artwork on the walls, until she
found herself in the library. Standing near the windows overlooking the garden
and lost in her own thoughts, she did not see the dark figure emerge from the
shadows until he was upon her.
He was not among the occupants of this house that she had been introduced to
thus far, and the fact that he was here made her nervous. His short,
stocky frame held a relaxed air that was completely opposed to the stone cold
stare he fixed on her.
In the face of her current living conditions, Scully had taken to never being
without her sidearm. It had been clearly demonstrated that a bullet offered very
little protection against the threat before her now, but nevertheless, it did
offer some comfort to know her weapon was within reach, nestled inside her
jacket pocket.
He sauntered rather and walked toward her and began circling her menacingly
like a shark ready to strike. "So you are the mortal 'my Prince' has chosen to
favor with his protection." His voice was taunting her with its patronizing
superiority, but she had given her word to Mulder that she would do nothing to
antagonize the inhabitants of this world.
She responded politely, "Yes, I am one of them." Her hand slipped into her
pocket and she fingered the safety on the gun.
As he finished his perusal of her, he came to a stop facing her. "Allow me to
introduce myself. I am Vitello Vindigni—Giovanni clan." The slight bow he
offered only served to mock her further.
"Dana Scully. So tell me Mr. Vindigni, are you a guest of the Baroness?" She had
to figure out just whom the hell she was dealing with.
"In a manner of speaking. I have some business to address with your 'guardian
angel'." The short silence that followed was just enough of a distraction.
Without warning he lunged at her. His speed was so staggering that she was
already restrained before his motion had a chance to register in her mind. He
was standing behind her now; one arm locked around her waist, the other wrapped
around her shoulders with his hand firmly cupping her chin. She began to
struggle, trying to escape, but the harder she thrashed, the tighter he pulled
her to his chest.
The realization that resistance was futile began to grip Scully's mind.
Maybe I can talk my way out of this she thought with only a glimmer of
hope. "What do you want?" she hissed.
"Only to taste what 'my Prince' has kept for himself." Contempt and rage was
all she heard coming from the voice in her ear. "Don't worry, my dear. I have a
feeling you're going to enjoy this."
She sensed the nearness of his mouth and tried to turn her face to see him, but
he held her chin fast and turned her away exposing the tender flesh of her neck.
She noticed in a blinding flash of clarity that even though he was so very near
to her skin, she could feel no breath coming from him. He began to run his cold
tongue along the defining lines of her throat as he traced small circles on her
stomach with his thumb.
"I've often found it intriguing how interchangeable human emotions are," he said
quietly into her ear. "The way, for example, arousal can masquerade as fear.
Tell me, Dana, are you aroused or are you afraid?" His voice wrapped around her
like a shroud. Every one of her senses was overpowered by the presence of this
creature. His touch was cold and hard; he looked of nightmares she would just as
well not remember; he smelled of death.
Her terror paralyzed her. She wanted to scream or fight—anything to make him
stop. But there was no way out. Finally, she found her voice through the haze of
her fear. The shriek she pushed from her body resonated through the halls of the
house. Before the echo had died away...
The pointed fangs had barely touched the thin protective layer hiding her
blood-engorged veins when a blast of glass and wood showered over them. The
Giovanni lifted his head from his prey just in time to see the figure of his
attacker before the strike—but it was too late.
As his claws sank deep between the ribs of his victim, Morgan Black let out the
roar of an animal consumed by madness. In one fluid motion, the impaled Giovanni
was flung across the room, his flight ending only when his body made contact
with the opposite wall. "You dare challenge me inside my own domain! You will
pay dearly for your insolence!" Morgan began closing the distance, preparing for
another assault.
Making herself as small as possible, Scully shrank back into the corner of the
room. The only thing that could terrify her more than the violence she had just
witnessed was the ferocity with which it was done. She tried to take her eyes
off the carnage, but found it impossible. She was transfixed by the raw power
displayed before her.
The physical transformation in Morgan defied belief. His strong hands,
fingers long and graceful, were now the claws of a beast, each digit protruding
razor sharp. The sensuous curves of his mouth were marred and misshapen by the
fangs that jutted out from behind his soft lips. His eyes were aglow, not with
the intelligence and warmth she'd seen earlier, but with a vicious predatory
gleam that looked more like blood lust than anger. All the while, the Giovanni's
words haunted her thoughts "...are you aroused or are you afraid?"
The savagery of the next blow sent a chill through Scully's body as the Prince
struck once more, sending his stunned prey reeling off balance. But this
Giovanni was not to be thwarted. When he had set himself firm once more, he
reached inside his trench coat and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun, giving Morgan
pause if only for an instant.
The fiery blasts that rang out followed hard upon each other. The bright flare
from the gun's muzzle caused Scully to avert her eyes, and when she turned back,
she saw her fallen prince.
He had dropped to his knees—two gaping wounds in his chest and belly still had
embers aglow within.
The Giovanni cried out in triumph, but this battle was far from over. As he
approached the vulnerable figure on the floor, he pumped the slide on the gun
once more. He then turned his attention to the meal he was distracted from
earlier. "It seems, my dear, that our Prince is more easily vanquished than the
rest of our kind were led to believe." He reached out a hand and took Morgan by
the hair.
Her eyes never left her wounded hero but traveled back and forth between his
wounds and his face. When she saw the smile that crossed his lips, she drew
back, sinking further into the sanctuary of her corner.
His hand, covered in his own blood, reached up and wrapped itself around the
hand in his hair. Scully's breath caught in her throat when she saw the flesh on
the Giovanni's wrist and hand begin to burn as if dosed in acid. He cried out
again, but this time in anguish.
"Now that I have your undivided attention..." the Prince spat in a tone that
punctuated each word. He fixed his glare intently on the Giovanni, and his brow
furrowed momentarily. Without explanation, Vittelo Vindigni began to cringe and
cower away from the predator with a vice grip on his wrist.
He scrambled hard, trying to escape. When Prince Black did not let go right
away, the Giovanni began to thrash and kick like a madman. When he was released,
he scurried into the farthest corner of the room and did his best to shield
himself from the invisible onslaught.
The Prince, still on his knees, had never moved and neither had his stare
wavered from the pitiful creature that had been reduced to incoherent blithering
and whimpers.
Suddenly, Scully became aware of Sebastian's presence in the room. When did
he get here? She couldn't understand how a mass the size of Sebastian could
go unnoticed even for an instant, but there he was taking a sure hold of her
attacker. And she finally breathed easy. His appearance had brought with it an
air of safety that she thought she would never feel again.
Quickly she crawled over to Morgan. He had set himself back on his haunches and
bowed his head. He was losing strength, that much was obvious, and she took his
elbow to help keep him steady. "Prince Black—Morgan...your wounds..."
"I'll be fine. I simply need to feed," he replied as he shrugged off her hands.
Her need to help him was overwhelming her reason. She was a doctor, but she was
at a complete loss. No one could survive the damage inflicted on this body.
"What can I do?" she asked tenderly.
Trembling with the need to keep control, he raised his eyes to hers and locked
them there. For an instant, they glowed more brightly than they had during his
battle. The rumbling growl she heard coming from him was enough to make her
withdraw. "FEAR ME!" his thunderous voice spat at her.
Without breaking eye contact, he rose to his feet. When his footing was sure, he
offered her a slight bow and turned on his heels to face Sebastian. "We'll deal
with him tomorrow."
"Of course, Morgan," the mountain answered assuredly.
Without another word, the Prince of Dark City left the room and disappeared into
the night.
Moments later, Fox Mulder came running through the door at full steam—weapon
drawn. "Scully," he whispered to himself as he saw her on the ground with her
face buried in her hands. He dropped down beside her, and wrapped his arms
around her tightly.
"She simply had a bit of a scare," Sebastian explained calmly. "Take her back to
her room, Agent Mulder. See that she gets some rest."
Mulder lifted his face that had been buried in Scully's hair and looked at the
man hanging like a rag doll from Sebastian's monstrous grip. "Did he do this to
her?" His voice held all the menace of an antagonized Kindred.
"This filth has made the unfortunate mistake of confronting your partner. She
has come to no harm, the Prince himself saw to that. However, she does need some
time—and some company. You take care of you ward, Agent Mulder, and I'll take
care of mine. I assure you, justice will be swift and severe." He left he room
quietly. Dragging his captive behind him.
Mulder turned back to his shaken partner. He lifted her chin so she was forced
to face him and brushed the hair from her eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked
softly.
"I'm fine, Mulder." Liar he thought as she shook in his arms.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"When we get upstairs...I'd like to lie down, I think," she answered. But the
truth of the matter was, she wasn't exactly sure what had happened.
He helped her to her feet, but when her knees proved unsteady, he wrapped her
arms around his neck and lifted her like a sleeping child. They made their way
to her room completely unaware of the watchful eye following them from the
shadows.
"I'll make this go away, Mulder," Krycek silently promised. "I'll make this go
away and you'll be safe again."
Survival
of the Species
by Niffusa
Oakland, NJ
12:36 a.m.
24 hours later
Some time later
