Akeldama

Thanks to WAA01, Killerarmyguy, and Taco for the edits.

******

Prologue

In the beginning, there was Eve, or so they would have you believe. However, many have forgotten that one walked beside Adam before the age of Eve. Her name was Lilith, cast out of paradise for her defiance to submit to Adam's dominance.

As the children of Adam grew and died, Lilith did not. For in that dark history, Lilith chose immortality, granted to her by her demon lover Samael. The demon laughed at what Lilith would unleash throughout the world. Lilith's children moved within the shadows as the ages passed. Feeding upon the blood of man, corrupting those they could use to strengthen their hold.

Bringing about a race that would become known as the vampires. Through them, Lilith watched from her throne as her children rose in their might. Few brave souls stood against her will, hunting down her children wherever they rose up. Cleansing the world of the evil Lilith had brought upon it. So began the Unctuous War; this shadow war cost the lives of a quarter of the earth's population. The church blamed the deaths from their secret war on a small plague that started in Constantinople. Ending in 1588 when the last of the Zwei Knights strongholds fell to their might.

Led by the very son of Lilith, sired by one of her favorites at the time. Few knew that he was indeed a pure blood vampire. Although he had no wish to wage war with man, he took no pleasure in ending their short lives. However, their existence was at stake as much as he mourned the loss of life on both sides: his duty was to his people as he stood upon the cliff that overlooked the fortress. He knew neither would rise to the heights of their former selves ever again.

Chapter One

The year was 1900; the war was a thing of the past. His kind was long forgotten only to frighten small children into behaving. The warm sun shone down upon his ancient shoulders. A thin smile formed on his lips at the thought of the mortals' ignorance. True, his kind couldn't walk the streets at the height of the sun's strength; however, those old as he could easily withstand the weak light of the waning sun.

Scanning the skyline of Rue de Rivoil, the old gas lamps shown through the soot from decades of use refitted to burn electricity, yet not all have been converted. Conner enjoyed the warm, soft light the gas lamps would produce. Not the harsh, blinding light of the incandescent bulbs, which seemed to be replacing the lamps. Sighing inwardly, Conner had lived long enough to see many changes occur within the mortal world. Many had him in awe, yet this new leap forward made him wary.

His eyes darted to the alleyway, knowing who awaited within the shadows. The gentle breeze tugged at his black waistcoat, its ivory buttons glistening in the waning light. The gleam of the silver pocket watch chain stood in contrast to the dark fabric. His century-old pocket watch sat nestled in its small breast pocket. His pale hand rested on the ivory-capped walking stick; a high tensile steel blade was hidden within its wooden embrace. In truth, Conner had no need of the blade, yet he was no fool. His highly polished ankle boots echoed off the cobblestones as he continued down the boulevard.

Always wary of the ones that followed him, knowing his mother had sent them to watch his movements. It was one of the reasons he was taking such a roundabout way to meet her. Although Conner had a few hours to meet Margaret at Bois de Vincennes. Where he would marry the one he had longed for, for so many years. It was on a cool fall morning that Conner had first met her. The sun haloing her crimson hair, setting it ablaze. Her light green eyes sparkled in the light as they had transfixed him. Her ruby lips were thin but full; her form-fitting gown did little to curb his imagination.

Conner had taken many beautiful women to his bed throughout his long life and to the other side. Yet as he looked upon her, Conner knew without a doubt she was the one. How he knew he could not say, however, a part of his being knew they belonged together.

As the months passed, their courtship deepened, Conner knew he was flirting with danger every time they were together. Conner knew his mother would never condone what he was planning. Margaret knew the truth about him; he had told her on a moonless night on the hilltop in Bois de Vincennes. Conner dreaded her rejection to his revelation; would she flee from him, call him a monster, abomination, devil.

True, she was shaken to her core, yet she never once failed to banish away his fears. The night was warm, the sky was clear, the moon's pale silver light bathing the land in its embrace. Conner had chosen this place, for it was the place he had first seen her. Standing hand in hand beneath the starry sky, the priest recited words that meant little to him. For what he already knew in his heart.

"Stop this madness at once!" Came a familiar voice from behind him. Looking towards the source for once in his nine hundred years of life, he wished his mother would leave him be. Her once angelic face was now marred in her unbridled rage. Her pale skin glowed eerily in the pale light. John and Dustin stood at her back, both wearing smirks of amusement. For years they had wormed their way into his mother's graces. If their betrayal would elevate their position within the clan, how could they not take the chance. Conner felt a fool for trusting in them.

"Mother, this is no concern of yours," Conner said, shielding Margaret from the attack that was coming.

"Oh, but it is," Helen growled, raising her left hand above her head. Snapping her slender fingers, leaves rustled, twigs snapped as twenty armed warriors surrounded them on that hilltop. "Take them and kill the priest," she said, her cold blue eyes never leaving her son. Before he could defend Margaret, his arms were bound, his legs kicked out from underneath him. Conner howled in rage as he was forced to watch as they pummeled Margaret into unconsciousness. What happened next, he could not say, for darkness rose to claim him.

The air smelled of damp soil and mold-ridden wood. Chains rattled; pulleys shrieked as they came to life after their long slumber. Conner's arms screamed in agony as he was hoisted into the air. Orange light flickered off the cold gray stone. Conner knew where they had taken him; he also knew this was only the beginning. The old metal hinges groaned as his mother entered the cell's gloomy interior.

"You disappoint me, my son," Helen said, shaking her head in disbelief. "What would your father say if he saw this?"

"I wouldn't know you ate him before I was born." A swift backhand caught him across the face.

"Nevertheless, I have gone to great lengths to insure this House's continuous survival," Helen said, taking hold of his face in her vice-like grip. "You dare dishonor this House by pretending to love this thing," she seethed, pointing towards the door. Conner said nothing, for it wouldn't matter to his mother. "You think to marry a human whose only reason for living is to feed us immortals!" Conner fought against his restraints as he caught the hints of blood on the air. His pale blue eyes were filled with sorrow as they tossed Margaret's bloody broken body at his feet. Sneering at his mother as he caught the smell of sex that clung to her skin.

"Well, she was quite lovely in bed. I can see why he would," Dustin said, leaning against the doorframe. His golden locks spilling down his bare chest, his brown eyes held wicked glee within their depths.

"True. She was a rare thing," John said, joining Dustin. "I haven't had one like her in what, twenty years," he said, licking her blood from his lips. Conner went cold as he looked upon her naked form. Never again would he see her smile, never again would he hear her laughter, nor the sweet words she used to comfort his weary soul.

"Now, Conner, you have a choice," Helen said, nudging Margaret's body with her foot. "You can marry Lord Garland's daughter as planned, and I shall forget this lapse of judgment."

"I would rather die," Conner spat at the thought.

"Fine," Helen said, wiping the blood from her face. "Death is what you shall have," she said, tearing his shirt from his chest. "You are highborn. The insult you have caused me cannot go unpunished," looking past her son, "whip him to the bone!" Helen growled. "Maybe a hundred years of starvation and darkness will make you see reason."

"Doubtful," Conner said to himself as the first lash of the whip cut away his immortal flesh. Ivory bone protruded from the mangled meat of his back. Blood seeped into the loose soil as it ran down his legs as they dragged his mangled body through the corridors. Near to death as any immortal could know, he would come to know it well as they tossed his body into his awaiting coffin. Chains tumbled over the dark wooden boards, the clicking of the lock ensuring he would not escape his prison. As they wrestled his coffin into position, Conner faded into the darkness hoping for oblivion.

*******

A hundred years had passed since her son's imprisonment, her polished fingernail tapped on the phone, debating whether or not to wake her son. Helen could remember the maddening look in her son's eyes as Dustin tossed that blood bag at his feet. She had seen that look numerous times in her long life. None lived long enough to see their deed done. However, he was her son and heir to the throne; on her orders, Conner was given enough blood to stave off death. Yet not enough to fully recover from his slumber, no, that was too risky given their last encounter. Nevertheless, she would be very pleased if he did regain his former self.

Helen would be safe across the Atlantic ocean where her new court resided. The possibility that her son would somehow escape in his weakened state was so remote it was hardly worth noting. Yet, she had not lived this long taking unnecessary risks. In reality, Conner would be near insanity due to the years of starvation. Even she could not be lenient towards her son, that would only make her appear weak. Her enemies were only waiting to take advantage of such an opening. Many had come to an end at her own hand, others by their own people, easy pickings for those waiting on the sidelines.

A few met their end thinking they were gods; once Helen had learned this, she spent no time taking over the poor fools. Her empire now stretches from France to the southern tip of Spain, northern Italy, Germany, and now the northeast United States. Where her new court sits nestled on two hundred acres in the northern part of New York state. Flipping open her phone, squinting at the harsh backlight of the phone's screen. Scrolling through the list of lieutenants she had placed in various Houses across her empire. Coming to a stop at the one she called daughter.

"Yes, my Queen?" Lynn's voice resounded over the line. Over the years, Helen had come to hold the daughter of Lord Garland in high esteem. Even going as far as planning her father's downfall to prove her loyalty, Helen easily absorbed his lands into her empire. This was the reason she allowed Lynn the task of guarding her son during his imprisonment.

"Prepare my son; it is time for him to return to my side."

"It shall be done, my Queen," Lynn said, hiding her mirth. For years she has waited for this moment when she would be bound to her son and in line for the throne.

"Good. Call me once you're in the air," Helen said before closing her phone.

Lynn paced her spacious room with her nerves on edge, debating what to take with her on their trip. Her gown was the one piece she knew she had to take; once Conner was well their wedding would occur a few days later.

"Alex!" Lynn called out to her second in command that stood just outside the door.

"Yes, mistress," Alex said, entering her chambers. Arching an eyebrow at the luggage strewn across the bed yet said nothing.

"The time has come for prisoner 126 to be released," Lynn paused, tapping her chin. "Give him enough blood to reverse some of his weakened state. Not too much now; we don't want him awakening while we are airborne. We don't wish to displease the Queen, now do we?" she said, narrowing her gaze at Alex. Silently telling him the severity if he failed in his orders.

"Yes, mistress, I shall see to it personally, anything else," Alex said, hiding the glee for what was coming.

"Yes, while I am gone, you are in charge of this House, temporarily, of course," Lynn said, the last word reinforcing that he was not lord yet. "See that the plane is ready to depart in two hours," she said, hovering over her undergarment drawer. Wondering which to take for their night of bliss.

"So soon?" Alex asked puzzled, he knew no one within the prison ghetto that required such swift action.

"As I have said, Alex, we cannot displease the Queen," Lynn said, giving Alex a look that told him that was all he needed to know.

*******

Darkness was his constant companion, hunger his lover that was never sated. His revenge was his will to see another day within his coffin. Eight times they fed him to stave off death's embrace. Eight times he willed his weakened body to escape his cell. Whoever was in charge of his feedings knew when his body was at its weakest to fulfill his plans. Yet he sensed something, his hunger flaring, its life force blazed brightly in his mind. Confusion set in for this was not the time for his regular feeding, smiling as he tested his arms as they responded to his call. Wincing as the key slid into the lock, tumblers sounded like drums in his ears as the noise pierced the silence.

The grunting was music to his ears as the guard lowered his coffin to the stone floor. His fingers twitched in anticipation as the chains slid across the lid of the coffin. Blinding light stabbed at his dried-out eyes, yet he had no need of them to know where his prey was. His hand struck out like a startled viper, bringing his struggling meal to his dry, cracked lips as his fangs gleamed in the light. Hot rich blood flowed into his mouth; as the rich liquid hit his tongue, it was heavenly to him. As the blood poured into Conner's withered body, waking tissue that had long since laid dormant. With a portion of his former strength surging through his limbs, tossing his meal to the side as the last flicker of life ebbed from the body.

His pale, wrinkled hand gripped the lip of the coffin. Pushing himself up, his long raven hair fell beneath his shoulder blades. Unruly and unkempt due to his long confinement, his pale blue eyes surveyed the place he had not laid eyes on in over a century. A strange humming noise assaulted his ears, thinking it was nothing but an annoying fly. Swatting it away, yet it still remained. For a moment, he thought he was going mad until a flash of memory from his forgotten meal flared in the forefront of his mind.

"Paul, are you done yet?!" came a voice over the radio that was clipped to the man's belt. Conner pondered on how the strange contraption worked as he rolled the radio in his hand. "Paul, are you there?" the disembodied voice was growing agitated. "Damn it, Paul! You better not be sleeping down there; you know what will happen once Alex finds out." This puzzled Conner; for whoever this Alex was it seemed he was responsible for his early feeding. Rising to his full height, finally noticing the two blood bags next to the coffin.

"Sorry about that, I had my hands full," Conner said, into the radio.

"Good. I assume you got Mr. Dry Bones fed," the man chuckled.

"Sure did, now what am I to do with him?"

"Close him back up and wait for Alex; you will be going with mistress Lynn to the airport." Now there was a name he did remember, yet why was she a part of this House?

"You mean I have to go with her," Conner said, feigning fear and dismay.

"Don't worry, I'm sure nothing bad is going to happen..." the radio went silent for a few seconds, "better hurry up; Alex is coming." With that, Conner tossed the radio and the man's body into his coffin. After donning the man's clothing, binding the coffin with the chains that once held him bound just in time as Alex descended the stairs.

"Are we all set?" Alex asked from the shadows.

"Yes, sir," Conner said, masking his voice.

"Now go and pack; I'm sure Thomas has told you the details?" Nodding that he did, Conner kept his head hidden just in case Alex knew him before his confinement. As he climbed the stairwell, Conner dived into the tide of information he had gained from Paul's memories. Stumbling as his head pounded as his mind absorbed the information in seconds.

Conner stood in dismay in the center of Paul's room, unsure what was before him. As he moved through the room, the flat screen that hung on the far wall sprung to life. Jumping at the sudden noise of the television, running his fingers over the glass surface, wondering how they got the woman in such a small device.

As the news reel moved across the bottom of the news cast, Conner couldn't believe his mother had kept him contained for so long. Paul's laptop sat below the television, peering down at the strange image as it moved across the screen. Conner's fingers moved on their own thanks to Paul's fragmented memories. Scrolling through the computer's hard drive, a file caught his attention. Reading down the list of names, Conner was shocked at how much his mother had done in his absence.

Her kingdom had doubled in size since he was thrown into that coffin. It had taken years of endless pain to recover from the injuries she had inflicted on him. That alone gave him cause to seek out those that had taken everything from him.

"Paul, you in there?" A knock came on the door. Conner could only assume it was Thomas. "They're waiting for you in the garage," Thomas said, inching the door open. Conner turned towards the door, smelling the fear rolling off the man's body. "You're not Paul," he stammered, backing away.

"No, I am not," Conner said with a wicked smirk. His pale lips lifted enough to reveal the lower tips of his fangs. Thomas' chubby face turned ashen as he watched Conner move across the room in two steps. Thomas tried with all his might to will his body to move; however, his gaze was transfixed on those deadly, pale blue eyes, knowing his death was certain.

Cool crisp silk flowed over his shoulders as Conner finished rummaging through Paul's closet. The mother of pearl buttons shimmered in the artificial light. The black fabric felt delicious against his skin after so long in those rags. Conner paused for a moment as a black, leather, knee-length coat caught his attention. With Thomas's blood flowing through his veins, Conner nearly felt like his old self. Yet he couldn't be careless, not when Lynn could overpower him in his current state. No. He couldn't tip off her or his mother this early that would only ruin his sweet vengeance. There was one man on this side of the world he so desperately wanted to see.

"What's the hold-up?" Alex asked over the radio. "We've been waiting for half an hour. Have you not found that guard yet?"

"No sir," Conner said, mimicking Thomas' voice. "We checked his room only to find his things hastily strewn about. His window was wide open when I arrived. I have men out looking for him."

"Fine, it can't be helped," Alex sighed into the radio. "I knew there was something wrong with that boy. Send out the hunters. I want him brought back alive."

"What about the plane? Should I assign someone else?"

"No, I'll have Jeff tag along on this one." If Alex said anything else, Conner wouldn't know. At that moment, Conner was making his way down towards the armory. Granted, they didn't have automatic guns or plastic explosives in his time. If it could explode, what did it matter? Even if it was a hundred years more advanced than he was used to.