Five men walked into the Queen’s chamber without warning. The large, heavy, doors closing behind them with a loud bang. Each carried a variety of weapons collected from a number of Slayers over the years. They stopped halfway to the plush and ornate fainting couch the Queen used.
The Queen in question raised her head from the arm of the couch, though didn’t quite sit up. She was small and thin, a foot shorter than any of the men, her dark red hair reached her waist. No guards watched over her though. “Bold of you to enter without so much as a knock,” she said, resting her chin on her hand.
“Bold of you to think we give a damn.”
“Oh. It’s you, Fielding. Is this all the rebellion you could manage?”
“Plenty of support you haughty bitch. Why do you think your guards aren’t here?”
She sat up a little more and looked around, noting the lack of anyone else in the room, then turned back to them and smirked, “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You don’t notice a lot,” one of them said, “But that’s not gonna be our problem anymore.”
“Say hello to your maker for me,” Fielding said, and opened fire.
Automatic guns firing silver bullets roared, shotguns blasted blessed salt, and a crossbow fired bolt after bolt.
In seconds the couch was ruined, full of holes and drenched in blood. The Queen’s body torn apart. An arm and a bit of her face completely missing, with the edges of the wounds glowing and faintly smoking.
Fielding holstered his gun, “Shoulda done that decades ago.”
“Bitch,” one of the others added, hucking a silver knife into her body. They could hear the sizzling.
“I’m gonna enjoy being King,” Fielding said, “Time to finally get this city-” he flinched and swatted at a fly. The man beside him swatted at one as well.
“The fuck did all these come from?” another asked, swatting at what was quickly realized to be a swarm.
“Fielding, Fielding, Fielding,” The Queen’s voice said, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere, “You dumb bastard.” The men readied their weapons again, though with no idea where to point them. “So full of yourself. So convinced of your own ideas. Your own importance. The greatness of your ’brilliant’ ideas.”
Fielding snarled, fangs bared, drew his own shotgun, and fired a blast into the queens body, causing an eruption of flies.
“You can’t see past your own nose,” she continued. “You never bother trying to learn anything new, let alone understand what you THINK you already know. You’ve no consideration or appreciation for anything outside of your little world.”
“The fuck is going on!?” one of his men screamed.
“Just a blood sucking leech. A glorified ghoul. A mosquito I should have swatted years ago.”
While his men were starting to panic, firing off shots and splashing holy water at the insects and now rats that were swarming around them, Fielding kept his eyes fixed on the body that seemed to be writhing with them now. Hatred burned in his eyes, but everything he knew about being a vampire, and everything he’d seen slayers try for nearly a hundred years left him with nothing but impotent rage at this turn of events.
“But do you know what the real difference between you and me is?”
Her body seemed to suddenly melt into blood and shadow, then snapped right to their faces, “I’M A REAL FUCKING VAMPIRE.”
Their screams echoed through the mansion and were paid little regard.
The doors burst open again and the Queen strode into the hall, bloody but otherwise pristine, “Somebody get in here and clean this up before I add to the mess!”
“Did we come at a bad time?”
She turned to see a wrinkled old man hunched over a staff and a red haired young woman, who smiled and gave her a small wave of her fingers.
Her fury instantly dissipated and was replaced with resigned annoyance, “Oh. It’s you.” She turned and walked back in to her audience chamber, “Come in. Watch out for the blood.”
The two followed her in, the old man showed no concern for the mess, while the woman appraised the pooling blood for a moment before, with a twirl of her hand, she pulled it up into a ball and then grimaced, “Oh ew. This is all vampire blood. I was going to bottle it for you but…Eugh” she brushed her hand through the air and the blood was shoved into the corner, leaving most of the floor clean aside from the meat and bones.
“So what as all this about,” the old man asked, pointing his staff at the remains.
“Nothing important,” the queen said with a dismissive wave over her shoulder. She paused for a moment, then sat down on her couch, “Fielding says ‘Hi’, by the way.”
The old man wrinkled his brow, “Who is Fielding?”
She pointed a finger towards the bodies, weaving it through the air before settling on the most mutilated one, “That one. I think.”
He turned his head to look at the body then back to the Queen, “The World is getting pretty interesting.”
She rolled her eyes, and her head, “You say that every couple hundred years.”
“It’s more true now than it ever was. We’re seeing more and more people with greater and greater power.”
“I really don’t care,” the Queen said, collapsing onto her couch.
He banged his staff on the floor, and she flicked a glower his way, “You should care. As much as you prefer to dwell entirely in your own little world, what effects the rest of the world effects you to.”
“You’re one to talk old man. At least I live in the world. You hide away in your cave for so long you lose track of decades.”
He nodded his head, “I concede your point. But when I’m asked for advice or assistance I provide it.”
The old man’s companion scoffed.
He rolled his eyes, “Most of the time.”
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
The woman tilted her head back and laughed heartily.
“Oh cut me some slack Mira! How often was your own skill insufficient when I declined to assist?”
Mira looked and him coolly, “Less than would have gone much smoother if you had.”
The old man raised his finger and opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut and jabbed his finger at Mira. He turned back to the Queen, “You hear that? How many situations could have been solved easier or faster if you had held an interest in things outside your duties as Queen?”
“Oh yes,” she said, sitting up again, “Because that’s why you gave me these powers. So I could help protect the world. Not because you didn’t know what you were doing and were desperate to make sure I never died again. Ever,”
He banged his staff on the floor, hard. “While I’ve never denied what I did or why I did it, do not forget what it means to be the first in a field. Everything I did back then was experimental. It’s expected for mistakes to be made an assumptions to be wrong.”
“But I’m the one who has to exist because of your mistakes and assumptions.”
His shoulders slumped, “Is it still so much to ask for you to forgive me for saving your life?”
“Except you didn’t,” she snapped, “You gave me a cursed un-life where I have to drain the life from actual living beings or suffer unending, knowing Death will never come for me.”
The other woman stepped in, “Father, let me take over.”
The old man opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. Instead he threw up his hands and stepped to the side.
“Thank you,” she stepped forward with hands clasped, smiling, gave a slight curtsy, sighed and said, “Hi Imma. How’ve you been?”
The Queen looked at her expressionless for a moment, then sat up and cupped her chin in her hands, “Well Mira, some idiots attempted a coup before you got here. Otherwise things have been fine.”
Mire looked at the gore pile. “Ah.”
Turning back to Imma, “I’m glad things are going well otherwise. ‘Heavy is the crown,’ after all.”
“It’s ‘Weary is the head that wears the crown,’ actually,” she said, a smirk forming on her face.
Mira chuckled, “You always manage to know just a little more than me.”
Imma shrugged, “Well I am the Big Sister.”
“Yeah…” Mira shook her head, “The reason we came today is because things are happening faster than ever. We used to see an Alpha every hundred years or so. Maybe every few decades. We have at least FIVE active right now.”
Imma blinked. “That is interesting.”
“Right?” Mira said. “So a few of us on the magical side of things think we might be coming up to something big. Hopefully not on an apocalyptic scale, but we’re trying to cover our options. So all we really want is to know if we come to you and say we need help, if you’ll be willing to at least consider it.”
Imma slumped onto the couch, and lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling. Her head fell to her shoulder, facing them. “You do remember that even I don’t do so well in the sun, right?”
“We’re aware. We’ve been working on some solutions.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes with her entire head and body, sitting up again, “I can’t promise anything. But if it is something we can do I’ll consider it.”
Mira clapped her hands together, “Excellent. Thank you. We’ll get out of your hair now. And if you ever want to visit for tea just send a message. I’ll be happy to have you any time.”
Imma scoffed and waved them away.
“Have to try,” Mira said. “Come on Father, let’s get out of the way so she can settle things with her subjects.”