To skip around, click the following chapters:
The Beginning
Without Monica
Revenge
A New Start
The Beginning Part II
Small Battles
Disappearances/Traveling/Reappearances
New Orleans
Heaven and Earth
Roaming
The War
The Kidnapping
Subtracting One
New Goals
New Pieces
Traitor's In the Midst
Shinobi's Fall
Topaz' Lesson
Tainted Dreams
Mister Antinio Giovanni
MORE TO COME
~~~~>OUTDATED<~~~~
I remember…yes, I remember her. I was four years old when Monica was born. Even now I remember the curiosity I felt for that little body. I remember the games we played when we lived at the North Shore house, and the fights that seem so trivial these days. Like the time she took that red marker, and colored my Barbie’s hair.
I was so angry with her. I ran to Charlotte, my mother, with tears in my young eyes and pleaded with her ‘can’t we just trade her in?’ It was mother who settled me down, and explained to me that it’s not really possible to trade in a child. Richard, father, had come home early that day. And Charlotte had explained things to him. I know they had a talk with Monica, though I’m not sure exactly what was said. But it was out of Monica’s heart, that she came up with the idea to right her wrong. She took her favorite doll, which at the time was a cabbage patch kid, and approached me. The look in her eyes was what I remember most. And I wish I had the words to describe it. It was a mix of sadness and determination, but more…Yes, it was that instance and many more, that I remembered why I loved her so much. She gave me that doll of hers, and I gave it back. That was her pride and joy, and I wouldn’t take that from her.
Than Monica started feeling weak. And she began to spend more time in bed, then playing with me. It was okay at first. I would sit with her on her bed, and Charlotte would read us stories of how God created the world, and how he sent a flood to wipe out the evil. Many times I fell asleep at my sisters side.
It wasn’t so long after that, that I rode with her to the doctors office. And the doctor put her in the hospital. Mother and father both had sat me down, and explained why this was happening. They assured me everything would be okay, though, for the first time in my life, I felt that they were holding something from me.
Monica didn’t like the hospital. And eventually we were allowed to bring her home. Though, more often than not, she was rushed back there. And with each night she stayed there, the more money our parents handed over.
Finally we could no longer afford our nice place up in North Shore, and we moved to a less liked place in the New Orleans area. But still, the hospital visits came, and once more there came a point where our parents couldn’t afford it. There was worry in both their eyes. Wrinkles I’d never seen before began to appear on father’s face. White hair I thought impossible speckled mother’s head. But through it all, neither of them abandoned us. They constantly reassured us that God had a plan, and we just had to see it out. And kid yourself not, God does exist, just as much as Satan does, and his followers. Though Satan appears to listen more.
Alas, both mother and father eventually found it impossible to pay the bills without the aid of a second job or longer hours. Mother had been a great teacher, though her skill was with college students, and not my age group. But I’ll get into that soon enough. Father was into construction, a real artist with his hands. He wasn’t the most intelligent, but he cared for us, and he cared for his work. Maybe him spending more time at work was his escape from things, and maybe it was just his way of bringing in more money. Mother didn’t have that luxury though. She started working nights at Bally’s, a local casino near the River Walk.
And since neither of them could spend the time they wanted to with Monica, I dropped out of school and took care of her. It didn’t bother me any. I was still in first grade, and had been for the past two years. Our parents had agreed, though I think it was because they figured maybe it would be better for Mony and I.
Mother and Father had hired a nurse that last year. And it was that last year that Monica really suffered. She no longer talked; just stared off blankly, as if seeing things no one else could see. She was a shattered image of her former self. But still I stayed by her side. I remember the doctors demanding her to be brought back for more tests. I remember the nurse dragging me out of the house in my nightgown. I also remember the blood transfusions, the frustrated looks of the doctors, and even the pleading look of the nurse who wished so much for Monica to get well. And I remember when they gave up, and finally allowed Monica to stay at home, living out her final days. Though, in my mind, I thought she was getting better.
I used to talk to her, hoping she could hear me. I’d tell her things about Mom and Dad. Let her know that they were busy trying to make sure she was going to get better. I told her how sorry I was for being mad at her for even the most trifle things. But through all of that, the thing that hit me the hardest was when I woke up next to her, her cabbage patch between us. Her skin, which was always so warm, was ice cold. Her mouth hung lax, her eyes glazed over….and I knew. Finally I knew what my parents had been hiding for so long. Monica wasn’t going to get better. Monica was never going to get better…
It was hard for all of us to adjust. The church was nice enough to pay for the funeral services, and to place a plastic plaque at the head of her final resting place. My parents tried to comfort me, saying it was all a part of God’s plans. That she was happier now. And when the time was right, we’d join her in heaven. But I missed her. I knew I shouldn’t, that I should be happy for her, but nonetheless…I wanted my sister back.
It took three years, three long years of my parents working whenever they could and me finding what work I could, or begging before our family began to resemble what it once was. Three long years of me begging, being alone at home, or wandering out to visit my sister’s grave. Talking to her, like I did those last years of her life.
It wasn’t until that third year that I finally started letting a happiness fill me. Knowing that one-day I’d be with her again, and everything would be as it should be. ‘I remember Mony. I remember quite a lot of what we did together. And don’t worry; I don’t blame God for it. He just took you someplace where you’d be better off,’ I said that to her, to the only thing that left a physical mark of her existence on this earth, that plaque. And when I heard those words echo in my ears, for the first time, I believed them.
And, for once in a long time, things started getting better. As if God had finally let us be free from the anguish we had suffered with for so long. Mom and dad both started working normal hours. We had dinner at a normal time. I even saw dad smile, that smile that used to send me into fits of laughter when I was younger.
Richard. He was that kind of man who could make anyone smile, given half the chance. He had a naturally happy look towards the world. And if he ever saw someone upset, he was the first to sit down and talk to him or her. He used to do that with me, especially after Monica. One night, I was sitting on the couch, reading Cat in the Hat. It had been one of Mony’s favorites when she was younger. I was close to tears when I finished the last page. And it was him who stepped in. Always stepping in at the perfect moment. He was tired, I could tell. This had happened when he was still working as much overtime as he could. But still, he came over and plopped on the seat next to me. He asked me the most ridiculous question, ‘So, how ‘bout them Saints?’ I had never liked football, and he didn’t know anything about the Saints besides the fact it was a team in New Orleans. Oh, if you could have seen how serious his face was at that instant. How his eyes seemed so curious to know everything he could find out about them. Even on the verge of tears I started to laugh. And I laughed, and laughed, and burst into tears. It was when those tears began to fall, that his arms wrapped around me, and he whispered, ‘I know,’ and I looked up and found that always-happy man crying with me.
I think that was the first time I saw him cry, but I would never take that moment back. In that one moment, all the walls that had built between us, shattered. I didn’t feel alone.
Which reminds me, he did take me to see a Saints game later that year. The sun had been high, the clouds few, with a wind that cut through to the bones. We cheered for both teams. Stuffed our faces with hot dogs and cotton candy. He yelled foul ball, and strike, and I followed in his chants. We were glared at and booed, but we didn’t care. We were happy.
That day, even now, seems remarkable. Father had taken the day off in order to tame me. Mom had worked, but had left early, and was home by the time we arrived.
Her face looked so fragile at that point. Her soft, loving eyes filled with both hope and loss. Her eyes, so much like Monica’s, though older, wiser.
‘What’s wrong mommy?’ I asked.
‘Nothing Liz. Nothing at all,’ a soft smile graced her lips.
‘Than why do you look so sad?’
‘I’m not sad,’ she whispered, pulling me into a hug, ‘just amazed.’
‘Why for?’
‘You’re going to be a sister..’
I looked up at her full of shock, ‘You’re having a baby?’
She nodded…
I think maybe father and I babied her a bit much. I used to sit at her side as she whispered soothing words to that little person inside of her. I’d ask her questions when she was just a couple months along. ‘Is it a boy or girl?’ ‘What are they goin to be like?’
I used to talk to her stomach, tell it stories I had long ago memorized. I even told Mother, later on, the baby was going to be a boy, like Jesus. He was going to be really smart, like her. He’d have dad’s happy face, and my curious eyes.
Maybe it was coincidence, maybe it was a prophecy, but at the time I had had dreams. Dreams of seeing my brother when he was older and he had everything I told my parents about.
All of us were there when the news came. That I was indeed going to have a brother. Mom’s eyes had locked with mine, and she called me ‘Touched.’
Months later, mom went to the hospital. I had been at home, in bed, for the last two days with the flu. One of the ladies from the church had come to watch me when Father took Mother to the hospital. Anna was the lady’s name, a really sweet older lady.
For two days I slept, waking up to eat a little, than collapsing again, my mind filled with nothing but delirium. By that third day, I was moving around, my ankle soar. On my ankle sat a burn, like a brand mark. It was a few days old, the mark having faded, darkened.
On top of that, Anna was nowhere to be found. Fear began to sink in as I thought back, and realized I hadn’t heard from my parents in two days. They had never, not even during the time both worked the long hours, not call or check in with me. There were no messages left by Anna, no hint at how long she had been gone.
I went to Mony’s old room, which had sat dormant since her death, and crawled into her bed. I’m not sure how long I stayed there. I remember getting up, just long enough to get some food. Other than that, I was in that bed. It had to have been days I stayed there, my fear growing, as Anna didn’t return, and no call came.
It was Sunday when I heard something besides my prayers. There was a knock at the door. My heart jumped, and I leapt from the bed. They were home! I ran for the door, flinging it open. No one was there. The knock came again. It was the front door, of course. Father was holding my brother, and couldn’t open the door. So I ran down the hall, unlocked it, and opened the door. My mouth opening, ready to yell ‘Daddy!’ My arms shook with excitement, wanting so badly to wrap around him. Though I knew I had to hold back, at least till Father set my brother down.
In an instant, all that joy faded, as a man I did not know in uniform, stood not three feet away. It was his face that sent me to tears. For the second time in my life, I knew someone I loved, wouldn’t be seeing me ever again.
I was eleven when he took me to the police station, and I was forced to identify my parents’ remains. The image still burns in my mind. My mother was laid on a bed next to my father. The sheets were stained with the darkest of red, and something didn’t seem right. It just seemed like there should be more there. They pulled the sheets back, and the man holding them accidentally dropped them too far down. It seemed like some nightmare I couldn’t wake. She had no lower half; from her hips down…there was nothing but her intestines spilling from her body. My Father, they couldn’t reveal any of his body without showing what had happened. From his right shoulder, at the base of the neck, down to his lower rib on the left side and up was all that remained. His neck and chest had been ripped open, like some animals recent feed.
I think my body went into overloud then, because I honestly don’t remember what happened next. A passing couple at the River Walk found their remains the night before. They identified my father from his wallet, which had been found some distance away. There were questions, talks, than just paperwork as they labeled it an alligator attack.
Then there was the funeral, which the church had once more helped with. The house was sold, paying for old debts. And soon I was forgotten, even by my church, left only with the clothes I had on my back. Through all that, I never did find out what became of my brother. Though now, I think he still lives...somewhere...
I lived on the streets, finding what food I could in garbage cans, and the shelters. I slept in parks, in playgrounds, wherever my body decided to collapse. My days were spent begging on Bourbon, being gawked at by tourists, and spit on by locals. I made enough money get used clothes when mine became too worn to wear, and buy food when I couldn't find anything to eat.
My thoughts constantly drifted to my parents and my sister, as I tried to work out, in my mind, why they had been taken from me. Was I so bad, that everyone I loved was to be torn from me? I didn't know. I just knew I was alone, and nothing more than another piece of trash on the streets.
And as I spent those next years, thinking about my family. I came to one conclusion. It couldn't have been an alligator. Not at the River Walk. It was too populated, too out of the way for alligators that usually roamed in the swamps. So began my search, my journey to find out what had really happened.
Of course the cops had been no help. They hadn't been then, and were even less now. So, I slipped into bars, being ignored by everyone. It didn't matter; I wasn't there to talk. Just listen.
I listened to people talk about lost love, about people who were beaten, lost and alone. And none of it fazed me. I had been down each of those roads. I had learned where each had led. And it no longer mattered. All I wanted was to die, and let the pain be over. If I couldn't have that, then I wanted to find my parents killer...and die trying to take them out.
It was a fall morning when I awoke, curled next to a dumpster. My oil stained jacket pulled tightly around me. I was stretching, when a small folded letter fell from the pocket. My chapped, weather worn hands carefully opened it. Though I couldn't read it.
A few hours later, I had found someone who was willing to tell me what it said. 'I know what happened to your parents. Meet me _____, at _____ time.'
I went there. What other choice did I have? I had no one to look out for me. I had no one who cared if I disappeared or not. And to be honest, I was half hoping the author of that letter was the killer, for one simple reason. That they might rip my broken heart from my chest, and I could be done with it.
Rian met me there. A renegade Lasombra, who was bent on destroying those who had made him. He told me of Matthew, a cruel beast that enjoyed causing pain to the innocent. It was he who had so brutally murdered my parents. It was he who had slowly drained my sister’s life away. Hatred so hot, it felt as if a flame, filled my aching chest, was consuming my whole body. And though Rian promised he would wipe out Matthew from this plane of existence. I begged him to teach me how to fight. How to take out these creatures labeled kindred. I wanted nothing more then to destroy them for what Matthew had made me suffer through. I wanted to make this world safe for other girls like me, who had nothing but the love of their family. Reluctantly, Rian agreed.
Four months I trained. Every night showing up at the place Rian told me to be. He fed me, got my sickening thin body back to normal. Before I knew it, I was in the bars again. Scouting things out.
I had managed to get myself looking a bit more decent; my hands were still rough…but nowhere near as bad as they had been. I still wore my rags, preferring to be overlooked and ignored. I enjoyed being nothing. I enjoyed the torture of knowing no one knew me, or cared. If no one cared, then no one else I loved would die. Then I’d have the comfort, of when my time came…joining my family in death. My only hope was that I’d save as many others as I could.
So there I was, making my way into another dingy bar. This place was more upper class than most, but it still held the smell of decay and disease. Bars have always been a place of those two things. A place where those inflicted gathers and grieves for their mutual problems. Where they drink and forget for a time.
I quietly pushed the door open, though the hinges squeaked regardless. The place was empty, save for two young looking men sitting at a table near the bar. I hung my head, as they glanced in my direction. It seems if you are nothing, and you admit it with a simple lowering of your head, people find you easier to ignore. It’s almost as if you admit your station, and will not cause trouble.
I headed straight for the bar, lifting myself onto one of the stools. I made sure to sit close enough to listen, but far enough not to seem like I was imposing. And I sat, my hands tightly grabbing onto each other, the sweat my palms collected making them slick.
I guess it was out of boredom really, that one of the gentlemen made a comment. Innocent seeming at first, ‘Why don’t you come and have a drink with us?’ It was something along those lines. I stayed on that chair, my butt firmly placed. I may have responded, but I can’t be positive. The other man took a shot, trying to lure me over. And still I declined. I have the feeling some course words were said, and a fight broke out. Yes…a fight broke loose. I was frantic, using everything and anything I could. I had some sort of acidic bottles that Rian had given to me. I’m almost positive I was able to use three. There were kicks and punches, tossing and pushing, scrambling and dodging. But I held up, for a while at least. Finally they had me on ground. My weak body pinned. I remember the first man, Young, ordering the other to embrace me. The other, Valor, tore into his wrist, and let the blood drop into my mouth. I managed, though how I’m not sure, to spit it out.
I remember everything fading to black, my shallow breathes. I remember the pain fading away. I barely felt it as blood once more drained into my mouth, then it was forced shut, and my nose blocked. I tried to block my throat, I tried not to breath, knowing that soon enough my wish would come true…and I’d be dead. But I guess the need to survive is always greater then the need to die. As I finally began to pass out, my muscles weakened and that blood ran down the back of my throat.
Before I had a chance to fight it, I was once again conscious with my lips wrapped around a portion of Valor’s wrist. I drank; I drank greedily like a newborn infant feeds from their mother. I drank. The world came into focus, with a new brilliant gleam. Everything seemed more focused, more alive. The shadows seemed to fill with life the colors seemed to dance. As if I had been hidden from what life was really all about, and had finally been allowed to see it. Then the pain started, a deep wrenching in my intestines. I felt it spreading over my body, like a searing fire. I dropped back to the floor, curling into a ball. Wanting nothing more than to die. This was a trick, a trick to try and keep me alive. To let me know what death was all about. And I wanted it. I wanted my body to finally give out, so I would no longer feel the pain. No more pain. Then the pain drifted, and my body once more fell silent as my eyes drifted closed. My breathing slowed, and I felt my heart beat slowly stop. And for the second time that day, I felt death…
I awoke with a jerk. I wasn’t sure how long it was, but it was night. I could feel it. My eyes looked around the place, to riches I had only seen in movies. The bed was huge, comfortable, with light silk sheets. The curtains were made of some thick expensive material. The closet door went along the whole side of one wall, made of mirror. And I stared at myself. I was clean, unmarked, and my clothes had been replaced with a comfortable nightgown. It was then I noticed the other figure in the mirror, and my gaze turned to him. Valor was there leaning against a wooden dresser, watching.
He introduced himself as only ‘Valor,’ and began to explain what he and I were. I’d like to say I gave him the chance to explain fully, but that was not the case. The more he talked, the more I began to remember what had happened during our last meeting. And I attacked, and was beaten to the point I couldn’t move.
Our relationship then was pretty typical. He’d tell me something, and I’d attack, only to be beaten again and again. He’d leave me then, alone in that room. Coming back later to give me blood and heal me. My attacks grew less, but not my destructive behavior. I had to find Rian, and his friends. I had to get away from Valor, if just for a time. So I would manage to find ways to sneak out, and go through town. More then once, Valor found me. And more then once, I was beaten for it.
Until one day, when he found me at the bar we had first met at. I cringed, being ready for another fight. But instead, he simply told me he wasn’t going to force me to stay at his place anymore. I was free to go where I would. Though my mind thought it was a test, his face showed otherwise. I continued to stay there, having no other place to go, but I would wander about when I felt the need. And never once, did he lay his hand on me for it.
I had found out a lot of information during that time, through the beatings of course. I learned the powers in my blood. I learned to move faster than any mortal. I learned to move in the shadows, and be unnoticed by most. And I learned to use my own blood as a weapon. I also learned about the small mark on my palm. And what side my sire and his sire stood on. I learned about the Camarilla, and the Sabbat, and the war they fought. I learned of the Assamites, and their side in it. All of this I remembered. Though in the beginning I remembered it in hopes of trying to take out others like us.
Eventually, my hatred for my sire dwindled, as I began to look at my new life as more of a benefit for my cause. I began to side myself with the Sabbat, finding more allies with them in the fight to get rid of a certain group. The Camarilla.
Valor and I started spending more time out. We visited places, and listened to others. One of those nights, he pointed out Gabriel Chapel and his childe, Celeste. They were Camarilla, and therefore a target. I attacked, and there was a fight. Both ran before I could take them out. Valor and I fought against them later. It’s strange though, how nobody died. Wish I could remember what happened, but many things grow clouded when it’s a repeat over and over.
Through those fights, my respect for Valor grew. That respect turned into love, eventually. But, neither of us could be sure if that love was true, or if it was just affects from something called a Blood Bond. The Blood Bond is something quite simple, just three drinks from one person. And three drinks I had taken in time. Because with each fight we had had, and each time I tried to kill myself, he would be there…offering his wrist.
Love. Is it really possible to love two people at the same time? If you do, wouldn’t it mean that one of those loves wouldn’t be true? It was confusing, yes, very confusing. During my nights out, I had met Ricki, a Brujah. He was young, like me, and I think that was our initial attraction. He was that sweet man who tasted like trouble. Yet he was innocent as well. Unlike Valor, I never remember a time that Ricki raised a hand against me. And well, it seemed, when Valor wasn’t there, Ricki always was.
Valor eventually found out, probably through me. Maybe it was the way I looked at Ricki, or the way my voice was when I mentioned him. Either way, he found out, and I could sense the jealousy.
Disappearances/Traveling/Reappearances
He left, though I’m not sure if it was for Atlanta, or for other reasons. I could swear there were times I’d seen him before that time, but times change… our minds put things in that we think should be there, and aren’t. Before he left though, he gave Ricki one of his favorite weapons. Though now it’s either back in Valor’s hands, or destroyed, because I haven’t seen it in ages.
Ricki told me a couple days later about Valor disappearing, and when I did, I went in search for him. My searches took me far away, then back to New Orleans. In my travels I got a metal piece, with sharp ends like…I guess it could be best described as the glove that Shredder wore from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Funny how that came into my head…but regardless, it was a glove that fit over the hand, with sort of claws at the end. It was a favorite weapon of mine for the longest…
During my time back, I met Janus. Fought him is more the word. I have no idea why, other then I think it had something to do with a girl named Lexxy, one of the other once slayers. During the battle, I bit him…and tasted that blood. It is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. That blood is more addicting then cainite blood alone, and to break it…is even worse then the blood bond. But he disappeared, like most every other man in my life. And the cravings came, and so did the obsession. I found an ancient book, Egyptian markings written throughout. It took me a long while to find someone who’d teach me to read it. And when I did. Young appeared. He stayed, just long enough to find out about the book, take it…and disappear. That was the last time I saw him.
There’s so much that’s happened, and much of it’s important. But the story drags on and will continue to drag on, till the day I die…again. Eventually Valor returned to me, his vampire coil gone. He came, he loved me, and I loved him…and he vanished from my life once more.
I lived on, and traveled some more. I embraced Majida during that time. A young military girl. She was one with a desire for life. And I took her in, and told her things. We made a deal, one that I knew would eventually happen. I pointed her in the direction she needed, and then I left her.
I learned more of my clan, and learned how I didn’t like it. I began to cover the mark on my hand, and hide the fact that I was Assamite. For if the wrong people found out, I could very well be killed.
And yet again, Valor came to me, when I had returned to New Orleans. He had his body back, but his mere presence made those around him shiver. He used my love to seduce me, and I gave up my virginity to him. That was probably the only physical thing I had had left. Then he disappeared. I guess it was a mix of him messing with my mind, and the fact that he left that my mind split in two. Elizabeth, and Lizzy. Lizzy was my mortal self, Elizabeth a more infernal being. Elizabeth enjoyed causing pain to those I cared for, while Lizzy hid in the recesses of my mind. Two could reach my better half, but those times were few and far between. Those two had been Ricki, and Rian.
In the long run, that whole instance was short lived. Because not so long afterward I met a man. He was handsome, and dark skinned. His dark eyes showed passion, and understanding. When with him, I felt like I belonged, that I was whole. He took me away, to a place not far from where Majida had been. He introduced me to people I can no longer remember, and taught me to read, and write. I learned many things there, things I had never imagined I would. Then I was sent back, to fulfill my small destiny. The lies they filled my head with were certain to bring Valor back to claim me, and maybe that was their plan all along.
I came back to my place of birth, working with the Ventrue. For awhile at least the plans were working. But like I figured, Valor came for me. He came, he captured, and once more I was at his mercy. Instead of pleading, begging for my life, I spit in his face. I mocked him for what he claimed to be. But I still loved him. I hung from the wall, chained, like some medieval prisoner. I remember him leaning over, and kissing me with the passion he used to. Then came the fire. The fire that shot through my mouth, and down my throat. I tried to scream, but my lungs had been burnt, and before I knew it…the pain was gone.
What can I say about Heaven? It exists; I’ve been there. But I can’t tell you what it’s like. Most of my memories are no longer there. Maybe heavens so great, that someone in a mortal body like this…can’t even fathom it. I remember feeling no hate, no loss..just love and warmth. I remember light, much like the sun, but it didn’t hurt to look at it. But that’s all. I remember the blackness wrenching me from there, my soul spiraling back, and before I knew it. I saw a room, holding Majida and a man.
I screamed, pleading to go back. But before I knew it, everything was done. Majida’s body collapsed, and I was in it. Majida is still with me though, in the armband I wear. She talks, though most of the time I ignore her.
When I came around, the gentleman was gone. Evidently, any preparations I had had Majida make had been taken care of. She had lived her purpose, as much as I despise it.
I roamed for some time, trying to remember my purpose for coming back. I looked for the man who had helped me read. I never found him. Either I can’t quite remember the place he took me, or it no longer stands. I wandered, confused and lost. Then I met Swann, a Tzimisce.
We talked, and bargained. She asked for a certain Camarilla’s head, one that kept somehow evading her. And though it almost caused me my life for the second time, I managed to do it.
As pay back, she spent nights flesh crafting Majida’s body to look like mine, though she managed to make me look a few years older. Our debt’s paid. I left…
The War
Slowly everything returned to me. Mony, Richard and Charlotte, Young, Valor, amongst others. And I remembered why I came back…for Valor. Maybe it was Valor’s subtle hints that reminded me. Certain images I had never known popping into my head now and again. Images such as skinned flesh, decapitated heads on poles, people being hung by their own intestines. Yes it was these images I began to focus on, and began to realize their source. I learned to control them, block them when I could, and learned to send other things to him.
Once more, I traced my steps back to New Orleans, where I traced down a few people from my past. I apologized to Gabriel for my past acts. Ricki for leaving him. I thanked Rian, for being there when I needed him, and apologized for almost killing him. And Janus…I have no idea why I felt the need to talk to Janus. Then I saw Valor, or maybe he saw me. Either way, it began our battle yet again.
Our battle…the same thing over and over if you think for a moment: Valor trying to destroy me, me trying to destroy him or Valor trying to corrupt me, me trying to redeem him. It’s the same thing over and over, as it was in the beginning, so was it now.
In my efforts to destroy Valor, I needed an army. Since Majida was no longer…with us, I needed someone new. So, I embraced Lorina, though I can’t say it was for the best of intentions. Lorina had flirted with Valor, and that annoyed me. In reality it aggravates me how mortals can be so ignorant at times, carrying so little for the obvious dangers around them. She blatantly flirted with Death, and in an effort to show her the truth…I drained her. Valor demanded I embrace her, and I did. But not for the reason he first thought. He wanted her, and at first I was tempted to give her to him. Instead, I had hoped she’d be an asset to me, that maybe I could use her against him. Hence the first person in my little ‘army.’
A surprise came, when I found out Lorina had fallen for me. It came as a shock when I found out I had fallen for her. As I eventually learned, she’s extremely jealous. A sad thing considering I can’t very well change things.
I embraced another, Angela. Jadenloche’s lover. To those few who have no idea who Jadenloche is, he is one of three sons to Iliessa, one of the most well known family’s in New Orleans. They carry power, wealth, and much security. Something I saw as a great advantage at the time. And though at times I wondered if that was such a good idea, I honestly had hoped it was. I had Lorina who hated Angela because she felt I would replace her. And I had Valor, damning me for embracing someone involved with Jadenloche’s family.
It was during then, when I laid myself to sleep I’d often wonder if everything hadn’t been pre-planned by some unseen master, and if what Valor went through was much like what I was going through then. I saw much of myself in both my childer. I saw a lot of things I feared. And though I wanted so badly for things to work out. I had the feeling they wouldn’t. That everything I had planned would simply come crashing down on my head.
It didn’t take long for matters to resolve themselves. One night while at the tavern, Shinobi slipped her shadowed arms around me. I managed a scream, but was swept into darkness before anyone had a chance to respond. I landed in an empty room. And in that room there stood Valor’s little message carrier. At one point long ago I remember trying to help her. Trying to warn her of Valor’s plans. But she didn’t listen. She was stubborn, and thickheaded. Regardless, it was Shinobi who met me in that room. She talked to me, comforted my aching heart. It was a bit strange, finding comfort in such a reckless creature. But she had what I needed at the time, an ear to listen. When I got tired of talking to her, I requested paper and a writing utensil.
I wrote several letters then, trying to figure out things in my head. For the most part I came to a few conclusions. I served no one. God was a joke. Fighting for good ended one up with nothing. And most important…from now on, I would decide what I did. With all those letters, those few things settled deep into my soul, and with it came a complete peace…
On my return to the world of the living, I found out Angela had been killed, though I have no clue why or by whom. By then I could care less, for the simple sake I was close to killing both my childer anyways. I no longer had a need for an army. I no longer had a need to fight my sire. I had one purpose now, and only one. I wanted to live, and live I would, regardless of what I had to do or sale.
I met with Valor as regularly as I could, trying to get him to help me extend my life. Maybe I should restate why I was so worried about my life at this point. When I had asked Majida to bring me back, the only way I knew how was through a powerful Giovanni. Through rituals they knew, a soul could be brought back, in a vampire body. Unfortunately the body only lasted a year to that date. And that year was coming very close to its end.
Eventually Valor helped me in that deed, for a price of course. My life was extended, and I have made it past the year mark. Unfortunately, at this time there came the Camarilla. This snobby group of youngsters who wanted their own fame and glory. How strange the leader ended up being a man from my past. Mr. Delepine. David Delepine the third to be exact. He was a Ventrue, and had made quite a name for himself on infiltrating sabbat run towns. Unfortunate for him that he decided New Orleans was his next target.
So I stepped in, as my ‘alternate’ self. Ms. Elizabeth Montgomery. To sum this situation up, when I had come back to New Orleans, right before my first death…I had taken on the persona of Ms. Montgomery. She was a Ventrue who went about on missions for the “Inner Circle” to find out certain information. It was a great lie, and one I had doubted would come of service again. But it did in this case, and I’m glad.
Their goals included taking out some of the larger powers in my town. One near the top of the list had been my dear Valor. I managed to hire some help in New York, Mr. Delepine’s birthplace. His weakness was a rather silly one, and I can understand why he kept it so close to him. His mortal family…it’s really sweet if you think about it. He kept himself so hidden from them in hopes of protecting them from people like me…but I drift…I hired a couple individuals to track down Mr. Delepine’s family. When that was done I hired others to take that list and exterminate those on it. Poor, poor, David. When the news finally hit his ears his whole world came crashing down on him. I can’t say I feel sorry for the little prick. He did threaten my city.
After that, the Camarilla seemed to crumble. They tried in vein to resurrect themselves, by then most of us had moved on. I stayed for a while, watching, but business called and I myself moved away. A while ago I had stumbled on this man named Scott Mirade. Charming fellow with much to look forward to, unfortunately I did not see things that way. I told Shinobi to follow the poor bastard, which she did. Oh, if that boy only knew what I saw in him that night…but that’s a story left for another time…
Eventually Scott took the name of Mattias. It was then that I told Shinobi to take him under her wing and teach him the things he would need. It’s funny how much that girl views herself as his tutor, when in fact it was me who told Shinobi what to do.
Sometime after I had ordered Shinobi to release Mattias, I told Shinobi to head to Atlanta and check things out there. Being as it seemed our whole group needed a new start…why not start with a city that was rebuilding? Shinobi, against my word sent Mattias there, lucky for her she was still by his side or I’d of been sure to tear the flesh from her throat and enjoy the taste of her vitae. But she was with him, so I didn't worry about it. Up to that point, nothing interesting has been found, though I did hope for that to change soon.
Eventually I went to a small town just outside Atlanta, preferring the quiet and a place to think. Unfortunately, I never found what I wanted to in Georgia. But what did unfold, was interesting indeed....
Shinobi's sire chose to reveal himself in the dismal Atlanta area. I'd mention his name, but it serves no real point, and I can't be bothered with such a pointless man. Regardless, he showed a very keen interest in Shinobi's well being. And by some miraculous means actually persuaded the traitorous bitch to leave Valor and rejoin with him. Though her ties couldn't be so easily broken.
Her sire, along with some other wretched creature managed to find me after a fearsome battle in which my dearest Valor almost perished. My powers at that time, were strong, but not merely strong enough to counter his. I was caught, and interrogated. Portions of the truth slipping from my lips. Enough was found out, and he learned of my connection with Valor. And the cunt, Anastasia threw me into the Shadowlands. Never have I cowered before in my life. But that night, I saw things no living or kindred should ever witness...
How long I was caged there, I have no idea. But eventually, another 'gate' was opened, and I was thrown back into the physical realm. A trade had been made. My life for Shinobi's. Shinobi's binds had been broken, and her sire had taken her place. Even then I thought it was interesting, though the point was void, as later I found his soul was already sold.
Shinobi. I never liked her, I'll be frank about that. But it was humorous to see her come crawling back to us as her sire abandoned her for darker deeds. Her soul had been clensed, and now she found herself begging to be brought back. Not one of us would touch her. A deal had been made, and none of us wished to break it.
I remember Shinobi telling me all too often she feared Mattias. She said I was trying to replace her. That she knew I didn't like her, and Mattias was her replacement. I'd calm her, though I'm certain she didn't believe me...
How fitting that Mattias, who was never truly a part of our little group, diablerized her. We never broke our deal. Neither Val, nor any of his people touched her. And as I said...Mattias is his own person. His own little torchered demon....
