Fall From Grace HF Written by the Blue King, Steven Booth
Fall From Grace *HF* *One Shot*
By RKB
Steven stepped into the crowded corridor, looking anxiously around for a familiar face, arrogantly ploughing through the masses of people that blocked his way, pushing pompously through them. In all his 154 years of life, Steven had never been as nervous as he was now. Adrenalin pumped through his veins, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Taking a snowy white handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at his brow, clearing the unwanted perspiration away. As he continued down the corridor, which seemed to be bursting at the seams, he eyed an antique mirror set in an elegant golden surround. He waddled over to it, running his hand down his right leg where a pain began to form. Luckily, he had his trusty walking stick at his side, which seemed to assist him. Glancing into the mirror, he carefully adjusted his necktie and pushed the few strands of drifting hair back upon his head. He looked at his shoes, which seemed to gleam like a twinkling star. If he made a complete fool of himself, at least no one could fault his appearance. It even impressed himself.
“Professor Booth,” a strong, masculine, Italian voice said, as he tapped the Purple King on the shoulder, causing him to jerk around violently from the mirror. The man was dressed in a long black robe with red buttons all the way up the garment, and a red skullcap on his head. Around his waste was a colour band of the same colour. Thinning grey hair splattered his head, and very pale grey eyes, hidden behind golden-rimmed glasses, peered at the old man. “I am sorry to startle you,” the old man said in a cheery voice, responding to Steven’s awkward movements.
“Not at all Cardinal Hulmes,” Steven said as he took the old man’s hand and kissed the large jewelled ring that lay on his hand, “I was just checking my appearance was acceptable.”
The old man chuckled, shaking Steven’s hand vigorously. “You look perfect,” he said, “and it’s been too long since the last time we spoke. You must drop by more often.”
“I will,” Steven, said in a less than convincing voice, as he followed the Cardinal down the hallways, past several immaculately dressed Swiss guards. Finally they came to a large, overwhelming door that was heavily guarded. Steven sighed, as he noticed other people had begun to arrive. After about ten minutes, there were twenty or so people gathered outside the large door. As Purple King of the International Hellfire Club, Steven Booth was used to meaning important people, but today was something that even he was nervous about. Finally, from behind the large doors came a very tall, thin man dressed in the same attire as the Cardinal. “His Holiness will now see you,” he said in a very clear, unemotional voice.
“I can’t believe it,” Steven said as he sat back in the exquisitely comfortable chairs, the fire roaring widely at his side, consuming the logs hungrily, their wicked fingers running around the wood with no mercy, “I just met the Pope.”
In the chair across from him, about five feet away, a bony, angular face twisted in what looked like a smile. “Nice to hear that,” a stony cold voice said, a hidden tone of sarcasm in it, “but what significance is that?”
Steven glared at the man with a very piercing stare, his facial expression seemingly the only thing keeping him from screaming with anger. “The significance is,” he fire din an equally hostile voice, “that I got to meet the Head of the Roman Catholic Church. But I also got to find out that not one vampire, mystic or psionic person out of YOUR little league of weirdoes is in with the Vatican.”
“My dear Purple King,” he man said, “how can a man like you be sure?”
Steven rose from his chair, telekinetically levitating the man out of the adjacent chair, placing him on his feet. “Because I am the most powerful telepath on this earth, and no one can hide from me, except for people whoa re psi-blind. Psi-dampeners still give off a signal I can detect, and psi-bafflers aren’t at all that effective. I read every mind in the place, and got no stench that your find have. And as for vampires, they are immune to my telepathy, and even mystics can’t cast spells that can block my telepathy. Face it, you’re telling me the same shit you were telling me over a century ago.”
The man smiled, two long, penetrating fangs erupting from his mouth and sliding over his chin in delight. “Well, why did you pursue my claims? You know that the time is near, you know that not even the combined force of the Illuminati and the Hellfire Clubs can stop us.”
The Purple King stood in mid air, and turned around to face the vampire in front of him. “You truly are an arrogant, stuck up fool. What makes you think that you have power over the Illuminati? Or the Vampire Council for that matter?”
“Ever since the Sorcerer Supreme paid them a visit, the Illuminati have been a little short of ranks. And as for the Council, I wouldn’t wipe my ass with them. Most of them are working for me as it is.”
Steven short him a brutal glance. “The Illuminati are not to be under estimated. You know as well as I do that you couldn’t pause any threat to them. For crying out loud, the combined forces of the Hellfire Clubs are struggling to defeat them. And as far as the Council goes, you’re expelled and an outlaw. Why would anyone follow a loser like you?”
“So Daniel was a loser was he?” the vampire hissed, “I mean, he was one of your students, so if he was a loser, then it doesn’t say much about the rest of your students.”
Steven’s eyes narrowed, as an Egyptian oblique statuette ascended from a table near his desk, and drove the tip of it into the vampire’s heart. “And for your information, that object is made of silver. Not as effective as wood, but still, it’ll give you a bloody nasty sting when you take it out.”
The cloaked vampire staggered backwards, colliding with a bookshelf, sending several leather bound texts crashing onto him. Although a thin stream of crimson liquid began to trickle from his wound, the vampire smiled a wry grin. “I see the subject of Daniel still makes you angry. Come on, it was fifty years ago. He wanted to be a vampire, so I obliged. It wasn’t my fault he was killed by a slayer. In fact, perhaps if you would have taught him better, he wouldn’t have strayed away.” Once again, another sharp implement, a wooden spear Steven had purchased in Africa drove itself into the vampire’s chest, directed by Steven’s telekinethesis.
“Daniel was an innocent boy, who you cast a spell on. You made him want to be a vampire, and then when he had served his purpose, you just left him to fight five slayers on his own. You’re a coward, and now he’s dead. It’s your fault.”
“Will you stop with the whole impaling thing,” the beast said, as he pulled the two long, sharp objects from his chest, which gaped, open with his two wounds that began to slowly heal, “it’s really painful.” He looked at Steven, whose face was scattered with crimson, telekinetic energy gathering in his hands. “I’m telling you Booth, a war is coming, and you will all bow before me. First the Council will fall. Then the Illuminati. But finally, the Hellfire Clubs will beg for my mercy.”
Steven smiled. “The sad part is you think you’re going to leave my office alive, don’t you?”
The vampire smiled cunningly at the Purple King. “You don’t have the guts to kill me. You’ve always been a coward.”
The Purple King’s hands shot to his neck, where he removed his tie, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. From underneath the silk garment came a large, chunky wooden cross, which doubled up as a stake. He grabbed it in his hands, and span around to face the vampire, who had already anticipated Steven’s move. The long, claw-like nails that extended from the vampire’s fingers hurtled through the air in search of the Purple King, as the powerful legs of the hunter swung around to kick the frail man in the head. But Steven had already phased his body and re-appeared behind the vampire; just above it’s head. With a forceful swing, he sent his right leg into the vampire’s head, staggering it forward, crashing into a priceless vase that stood on a podium in the middle of the room.
The vampire rose to his feet, and charged towards Steven, stretching two bat-like wings from his back, lifting him into the air, His arms lashed out violently at the King, who merely surrounded himself with a telekinetic field, and fired two focused blasts of energy, one hitting the vampire in the neck, breaking it’s collar bone, and one hitting it in the right knee, severing the limb completely. An unholy scream bellowed from the parasite, as it cowered to the floor, caressing it’s wound.
Steven descended back to the ground and pulled a silver flask out of his pocket. He meticulously unscrewed the lid, and began pouring the liquid onto the vampire. More howls of pain hollered from the beast, as the Holy water began to slowly dissolve its skin. “Listen here,” Steven said as he grabbed the vampire by the hair, “your little group of renegade vampires have terrorised people for too long. It’s time they got a new leader, or crawled back tot eh Council and beg for forgiveness and ask to be re-instated. But either way, your life ends now. And this war, it is coming. I know the Illuminati are planning a big attack. But you lot are just little boys in a league of men. And it’s time you were eradicated from the game.”
Steven’s grip tightened around the wooden structure, before eh finally drove it forcefully into the vampire’s heart, killing the beast as he did so. The Purple King shook is head, as he levitated the corpse into the fire, the flames glowing back to life. Eagerly the tongues of flames ran over the carcass, reducing it to ash. Then, with an uncanny glow, the fire died down completely. Steven immediately scrapped the ashes up on a silver mantle piece brush and pan and threw them carelessly over his balcony. With a sigh he looked into the rising sun. Indeed, his visitor may have held the truth. A new world was coming. A world that he needed to fight for. A world that was going to be corrupted. But he knew the Hellfire Clubs, if united, could stand against any threat.
“Milord,” a dwarfish being with green scaly skin and a serpent tongue said, a slight hiss to his words, “Master Dazrimin has been slain. It seems that we under estimated Booth.”
“Are you sure these findings are correct?” a tall, muscular man with navy blue, thick hair and chalky white skin and emotionless black eyes with fiery red pupils said, his black trench coat trailing in the gentle breeze that wafted around the blackened dungeon of the castle. The elfin merely nodded. “This can’t be good,” the vampire said, rubbing his fangs, “Booth doesn’t do something like this randomly. He must have one hell of a plan. Do you think the Council could be working with him?”
“Not likely Ziekenilif,” the troll man said, “Booth seems to despise the Council as much as they despise us. If you ask me, the Purple Court must be working with the other courts on eliminating the Illuminati. And I think that our little band is under threat from the Clubs. It seems that both the Council, ourselves and the Illuminati must be on our guard.”
Ziekenilif nodded and stroked his black goatee beard. “I take it now that Dazrimin is dead, I’m the new leader. Well, I think it’s time we went back and begged the Council to take us back. It’s dangerous times for us, especially with our connections to the Illuminati. I don’t think we should have agreed to working as their strike force. That link must be cut. Now prepare as many of the troops as possible and abandon this castle. Let’s make preparations to get to Toronto. Time is short.”
“Where ever you run,” Steven said as he took a drink of brandy from the tumbler that laid between his hands, his elbows supporting him as he leaned on the cast iron rails of his balcony, “I’ll track you down and kill you. Too long have vampires threatened the Hellfire Courts. And since they’re making deals with the Illuminati, they’re getting a little uncomfortable to have around. But, I’ll fix that. Mark my words, I’ll fix that.”
The End
