Date: Wed, 31 Aug 2011 17:04:11 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bien Clar <bienclar@yahoo.com>
Subject: council of elders 1

DISCLAIMER

The follow story is fictional. Any resemblance between these characters and
persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.

This story will contain scenes of a sexual nature between consenting adult
men. Therefore, if you are under 18 (or whatever age is deemed as "adult" in
your
country), if it is illegal to read this material in your country or if you
are offended by the idea of sex between two consenting adult men, DO NOT READ
ANY FURTHER.

The author cannot be held accountable for the decision you make after reading
this disclaimer and if you didn't read it then you don't deserve to be
reading porn. There, I said it, now bugger off. If none of the above applies
to you then feel free to enjoy and feel free to contact the author with
praise, criticism or just flames at bienclar@yahoo.com.  My decision to
continue the story will be based on the responses I get, if I get any at all.

I don't have an editor, so if you find any errors you must first take into
account that I am British and spell things in UK English ie. "centre" rather
than "center". Anything else is just laziness on my part and must not be
tolerated.

Enjoy the show. XOXO

***

The Council of Elders had convened for the first time in five hundred years.
Representatives of all the nations of the supernatural world were present:
from the werewolves of the Americas, to the vampires of the European slums
and even the abominations of the frozen Northern wastes. Every creature that
dwelt under the beds of children or in the shadows of a darkened alley was
advocated at the Council.  Think of it as the UN of the Underworld.

Each member state belonged to a main faction, though - as in all politics -
there were many blocs within them. The system had forged an uneasy accord
between the previously warring groups, and the tenuousness of this peace was
palpable in the main hall of the underground meeting place. The tension
between the members of the council was so great that a raised voice or a rude
remark could have been enough to collapse the entente and the world would
have descended once more into chaos it hadn't seen since the Dark Ages.

The giant semi-circular room was centred on a dais on which the three heads
of the Council were sat behind a great wooden table, carved with a design of
the first war between their three races. The seats for the delegates were
carved into the black marble of the room's walls in levels so that, like an
amphitheatre, everyone had a perfect view of the centre. The great room was
lit only by a giant gothic chandelier that clung to the domed ceiling like a
spider; the glass changed colour depending on the angle of sight so no two
people could ever agree on the true nature of its fantastic beauty. The floor
between the seats and the dais was covered in an exotic blood-red marble,
supposedly stained thus by many generations of horrific battles.

The Triumvirate of Blood sat in silence on the raised platform while the
crowd shuffled and fidgeted in anticipation. The eagerness to attack each
other was matched only by curiosity, curiosity that could only be satisfied
by the men on the dais. They sat in thrones carved from the bones of slain
giants and each wore a wreath woven from the branches of the oldest tree in
the world. No one but the three powerful men knew the reason for the
gathering, so the crowd were excited to find out what news meant that they
were all summoned at such short notice. The eldest Elder, a wrinkled and
blind vampire, stood. The room was silent in an instant as every being
stopped moving and froze in place.

"You have been called forth, from your homes and families, because we face a
threat the likes of which we have never before encountered." His voice was
raspy and without accent but had a quality that meant that everyone in the
room felt the words to their very cores. "The Triumvirate has received a
vision, a vision that shows the destruction of all that we hold dear."

"A great Darkness shall sweep through the lands of this world, it shall
devour every atom of the world and when it is sated it shall burn the Earth
in its wake." The white-furred werewolf stood shakily and scanned the room
with his future-clouded eyes. "It will rise from the Pit and we shall all be
consumed."

"The creatures of the world will cry tears of blood as the Beast ravages this
planet, but the Creator will not act." The third, a homunculus hewn from clay
as old as the Earth itself, rose from his ivory throne and raised his arms in
unison with the others. "All will perish, none will survive."

They sat down and exchanged almost invisible grins at the effect of their
showmanship on their captive audience. Shock had made the delegates forget
their voices. Then shouts and screams exploded from the rows of seating in
the room. Accusations of betrayal began to fly and if it weren't for the lone
homunculus, a war would have broken out.

"SILENCE." He boomed in a voice as cold and unforgiving as time. The
creatures stopped mid-attack and sat in their seats again, a few making
threatening gestures at their sparring partners.

"No being of this world is in any way responsible for this. The envoy of our
destruction comes from the Pit. We can only hope to save ourselves by working
together." Said the Vampire Elder.

"By fighting we only serve to aid the bringer of our demise. We must
cooperate to hunt down he who would bring the Daemon into our reality." The
werewolf was both a seer and a politician and he knew a common enemy would do
more good for inter-species relations than any peace treaty.

"Daemon?" Cried the representative of the Russian Vampire Coalition. "But
they are just stories to scare hatchlings!"

A bolt of black lightning flew from the Vampire Elder's outstretched hand and
seared a hole through the arguer's unbeating heart, turning him to ash that
settled on the cold marble of the floor. The Elder had long since come to
terms with the loss of the use of his eyes and could sense the presence of
anyone in the room by sound and scent alone. The blindness had taken him
after his first vision hundreds of years ago, it was the price paid for
seeing into the future - one lost sight of the present, literally.

"We three have meditated and each has received the same vision separately.
This is no mere ploy to gain power or wealth. Oberoth, Malus and I have all
seen what is to pass." The Werewolf Elder said as a mutter raced through the
audience. "The End is coming, and we have been given an opportunity to send
it straight back to Hell."

Despite his impossible age, Caesar was always charismatic to a fault and he
knew his use of colloquialisms would stir up passion. Sure enough, several
American wolves beat their chests in appreciation at the thought of killing
something. Killing was something they excelled at, so they were always happy
to go hunting.

"Calm yourselves children." Said Oberoth with a wave of his stone hand, for
all were but children to him. "A task like this will require skills from more
than one person."

A groan swept the hall. The homunculus expected them to hunt the Summoner
together. Were it not for their sense of respect and the fear of being turned
into a pile of dust, many would have spoken out. But as it was, they were
forced to suffer in silence. The Triumvirate spoke again.

"A vampire and a werewolf will be chosen by their respective Elders this very
night; they would travel at once and hunt the Summoner together." Said Malus.
"There is to be no mercy, no restraint. If the Daemon were to survive its
infancy after being summoned, it will conquer the world."

"We will separate for two hours and when we reconvene, we will make our
decision." Said Caesar. "We cannot tarry, for the fate of the world rests on
our shoulders."

A gong sounded and as the chandelier shock from the vibrations, the hall
emptied of all but the three Elders. The noise of the delegates echoed down
the long tunnel that linked them with the outside world and the Triumvirate
waited until the last sound died away before they huddled together and spoke
in hushed tones.

"This is wrong, they should hear the truth," whispered Caesar. He hated to
deceive his pack brothers in such a way; he was tasked with upholding laws,
not breaking them.

"We cannot allow the child to be born; he will destroy all that we have
created here. We will lose all of our power." Hissed Malus, greediest of the
three. "The murder of an innocent child is not something I consider lightly
brothers, but all we have achieved in the last thousand years will be for
naught if we do not act."

"The child is no innocent, he will change the balance of the universe, we are
tasked with maintaining that balance," said Oberoth stoically, though he
disliked the concept even more than the other two.

"But the change may be for the better, we don't know what will happen!" said
Caesar plaintively. "You cannot judge the child guilty before it commits a
crime. You must-"

"NO!" boomed Oberoth. "We cannot allow it to live. You know your place!"

"Places be damned, I won't stand for this!" Cried Caesar. "You lost all of
your people in the last great war Oberoth; you cannot change that by
destroying the child."

"How dare you! You were not complaining when we first made this plan, neither
was Malus. Cold feet are not acceptable at this stage."

"I am not complaining, I just think we should wait to see how the child
develops before we destroy it." Muttered Malus under his breath.

"The child dies. End of discussion."

"Fine! But on your heads be it if the child lives and decides to take revenge
on us all." Jeered Caesar.

"Who shall we select to do the deed?" asked Malus, a hint of bloodlust
creeping into his voice. He would prefer someone who would take their time
with the kill, someone who would make the child suffer for the actions he
would otherwise go on to do.

"I know you Malus, and I can assure you that the executioners shall do their
job cleanly and without... making a mess." Oberoth said.

"A woman then? More likely to care for the child that way. More likely to
make it as painless as possible." Asked Caesar.

"Mmmmm... but she may be unable to take the final step. We should send a male
along to ensure the success of the mission." Said Oberoth with a glance at
Malus' disappointed face.

"A female wolf and a male vampire then?" He asked. "A female vampire would
not show such compassion, even for an infant."

"Very well." Sighed Oberoth.

"I accept these terms." Grunted Caesar.

Summoners were highly skilled in arcane arts so a head on assault would be
impossible for any but the most skilled to attempt, this made the decision
much more difficult as it was very rare to find an warrior both capable
athletically and arcanely. The two assassins were chosen from the thousands
of possibilities as the diplomats returned to their seats the Triumvirate
stood to speak.

"We have chosen those who shall carry out the destruction of the evil-doer."
Oberoth said loudly. "The vampire shall be Armando Natale. The werewolf shall
be Rachel Victoria."

The audience seemed to pull together as if to discuss the choices. Evidently,
they were satisfied; the two candidates were well known for being contracted
into doing hits on behalf of mortal employers as well as paranormal ones.
This meant that they had experience in dealing with humans, which they would
need to track down the Summoner. Each was present at the meeting and while
the werewolf received howls of approval, the vampire merely accepted a few
nods from his more conservative kin.

"These two shall fly to England this evening and attempt to locate the
Summoner. They will deal with the threat and eliminate all chance of what we
have seen happening in the future." Malus gave an evil grin only visible to
the other two.

"No mercy." Choked Caesar with imperceptible tears in his eyes. "No
restraint."

"NO MERCY! NO RESTRAINT!" chanted the werewolves as the vampires stood to
clap enthusiastically.

***

Six hours later the private plane from Italy touched down on a private
airfield just outside Bristol, England. The two passengers jumped out and the
plane took off again as they were walking into the distance. It was early,
maybe 2am and the only light source for miles was the glittering motorway.
The woman, Rachel, was slightly taller than the vampire was and as she turned
to place a cautious eye on his feline face, he was forced to look up to meet
her gaze.

"I don't trust you, but for as long as this mission lasts I'm just going to
have to. Just to let you know, I'm in charge. I lead. You follow. Got it?"

"Perfectly." The Italian vampire hissed. "I'm quite happy for you to go
first, puttana, just so long as it means you get killed first."

They walked to the motorway through a field and as a passing car slowed to
ask them if they needed to hitch a ride, Armando reached inside and snapped
the driver's neck like a twig, his white leather gloves preventing any
fingerprints from being left on the still body. He held the driver-side door
open for the werewolf and when he was sat in the other side, he gestured for
her to drive.

They sped into the night but as the sun rose after hours of driving, the only
noticeable effect on the vampire was putting on a pair of designer dark
glasses that materialised from his jacket pocket. At 10am, they arrived in
the small town of Little Murton and arranged to spend the night in an
outrageously expensive B-and-B that night. They scoped out the area and they
could both smell the metallic taint of magic in the air, it was centred on a
small house on the opposite side of a fountain that the B-and-B faced.

"I can almost taste the power. It's so close, humming beneath the surface of
the Earth. How can these stupid humans not sense it?" asked Rachel when they
were sat outside the only cafe in the town.

"I'm afraid that they don't have your nose darling." Said Armando as he
sipped gently on his cappuccino. "It's not their fault; they just don't have
our talents. Why do you think my kind treat them like they're food."

"But come on! They can't be that dumb, can they?" She slurped noisily on her
coffee.

"I suspect that they do feel something, but it's like an echo of an echo to
them. They're not stupid, they just have... limitations." He gave her a
raised eyebrow.

"I suppose you're right. Never mind, eh?"

They faked going to bed that night and wished the nice couple who owned the
house pleasant dreams. Later they jumped out of the window of their room and
moved silently to the other side of the street, beyond the fountain.

"You've finally got here then?" came a voice from behind them. "I was
expecting a whole battalion or something, but I suppose those old farts
thought that it would create a bit of suspicion among the locals."

The old woman who stood in the fountain had appeared from nowhere and as they
stared in shock at her, she began to melt into the water.

"I'm not going to run you know." The words seemed to echo through the cobbled
street beneath their feet. "I'm going to kill the both of you and get on with
my mission."

Suddenly a razor thin jet of water spouted from between the werewolf's legs
and she barely managed to dodge it before another came from beneath her new
position. Her leg was caked in matted blood, but as she jumped away, the
wound began to seal itself leaving just a white scar. Her red dress was cut
to ribbon and she flung it off to reveal a lycra bodysuit that fit her every
curve. She back flipped onto a car and landed so lightly that the alarm never
went off.

A blade of ice sliced through the centre of the car and nicked her foot,
which suddenly turned black as though frostbitten. The woman reformed as the
werewolf landed and lost her footing. The vampire moved like lightening and
pierced the woman's neck with his extended canines but she simply moved on
and he was left with a ball of ice stopping his jaw from closing. He bit
through it in one swift crunch and he felt a few of his teeth break and fall
out. They would be regrown by the morning but it still irked him and he drew
a short sword from his jacket and lunged.

The sword cut straight through the old woman's body, but she simply kept
moving steadily towards the collapsed werewolf with murder in her eyes. He
looked around for something to attack with and his eyes settled on table
outside the closed cafe. The saltshaker was still on it and he dove for it.
He grabbed it and in one swift movement, he unscrewed the lid and showered
the Summoner in salt.

She cried out in agony as the salt began to pull her apart at the molecular
level and turned to face the vampire. A spear of ice formed in her
outstretched hand and she threw it with an agility that belied her apparent
age. It struck him directly over the heart and as he blinked in surprise at
the attack and turned to ash, the woman turned back to the werewolf.

Rachel saw what was left of her partner blow in the light breeze as the
Summoner advanced on her.

"Please... let me go. I won't come back. I'll tell them that I killed you.
You'll never be bothered again." She was begging for her life, but it was no
use.

"They won't believe you Dearie. They know what happens when a Summoner dies,
they aren't expecting you to come back." The old woman had a kind smile but
still walked closer and closer to her.

"What do you mean?"

"When our mind leaves our body, the magic stored in it... Never mind. You
won't ever have to see it Dearie."

"Wanna bet?" Rachel had been focussing all of her energy on healing the wound
and staying conscious, and in the brief moments Armando had given herself she
had achieved both. With a roar that shook the houses, she began to change.

Every bone in her body broke, every sinew and fibre tore and every muscle
contracted till it ripped. Her spine reformed and extra vertebrae grew from
nowhere. He face began to morph into a lupine snarl and as she finished her
transformation, she lunged at the old woman. She tore right through her and
while the aquatic body did not shed blood, the old woman needed a few seconds
to pull herself back together.

With hands that, despite the excruciating process, had retained thumbs, she
grabbed another saltshaker from a cafe table. She tore of the lid and hurled
the contents at the stationary pensioner. The small crystals struck the areas
where there were still gaping holes and the moment they touched down the
water turned back into flesh. The old lady screamed as blood began to gush
from a wound that travelled straight through her right lung and out the other
side. Rachel walked over and shook out the few crystals that had stuck to the
inside of the saltshaker. The old lady moaned as she died, floating in a pool
of her own blood.

"I guess you beat me Dearie. But don't you worry - you haven't changed a
thing. You see, the final ingredient in my summoning was a sacrifice, not the
namby-pamby goat kind, the Incan kind." The old crone laughed. "The vampire
stopped being human years ago, and your soul is tainted with the blood of the
innocent. But me, I'm still very much a mortal. I go to Church and
everything." Rachel began to run from the cackling woman that lay on the
blood-splattered cobbles but it was too late, far too late.

The light left the woman's eyes while the laughter still echoed in the air
and the conscious mind that had contained the magic faded. The Summoner's
body detonated with the force of a nuclear explosion. Everything in a half-
mile radius was blasted by an explosive bubble of pure power. There was no
mushroom cloud, no sign from above that something had happened. Just a
landscape of smoking fields and dead trees.

***

When the emergency vehicles reached the crater, they were looking for
survivors in the dead space. There was a sound that cut through the sirens
and the phone calls to headquarters. A baby was crying somewhere in the
wreckage of the town. The chief of police shoved his way through the crowd of
rookie detectives and reporters until he reached the centre of the town.
There, sitting in a scorch mark the size of a little old woman next to the
ruins of a fountain, was a little baby boy wailing like a newborn.

"How the fuck did you get here little guy?" he asked with all the tact of a
dead slug. "You know what, don't answer that."

The baby was still trying to let everyone in the vicinity know that his lungs
worked, but as the Police Chief stooped to pick him up, he suddenly fell
silent. The Chief held him in the crook of his arm and stared into eyes as
black as the depths of space. The baby smiled up at him and began to giggle,
grabbing at his unshaved chin and generally being an adorable nuisance. He
and Elaine had been trying to get pregnant for five years but had given up
when they had learned that Elaine had an inhospitable womb and could not bear
children. Right that moment, staring into the baby's eyes, the Chief made a
decision.

The Chief took the baby home with him that day. He didn't fill out any
paperwork, no one asked him to. It was simply taken as read that the baby was
the Chief's newborn son. His wife was thrilled and took it as a sign from God
that a baby had dropped out of the sky and survived an explosion the likes of
which no one had ever seen before.

They had to register the birth with the local council but thanks to a few
pulled strings, no one could ever prove that the baby wasn't theirs.
According to the legal records it had been a home birth without a Doctor. The
few witnesses who saw the baby in the bombsite either forgot or put it down
to lack of sleep. After all, what baby could survive a nuke? Soon after the
illicit adoption they moved away to London where nobody knew their names or
had heard about the terrible "gas leak" that had led the deaths of 500 people
and enormous damage to property, crops and livestock.

The Council of Elders had no paper trail to follow and simply assumed that
the Summoner had been stopped before the Daemon child from their visions had
been called forth. They covered up the whole mess and closed the matter then
and there, but none of them ever knew peace again.

***

Years passed and as the baby grew into a young man the whole world came to
accept him as the now retired Police Chief's son. He was told the story of
his illegal adoption on his eleventh birthday, when his parents thought he
was old enough not to tell everyone about it. He had always been a mature
boy, wise beyond his years and cynical as an American college professor.
Somehow, he hadn't been shocked by the news he wasn't biologically theirs, it
was as if he had always known. While he shared the brown hair and brown eyes
of his Father, there had always been an "otherness" that set him apart from
them. Close family had been the hardest to fool, but since the Chief's side
were all dead and Elaine's were living in Australia, it wasn't too difficult
to convince them that they had simply missed the signs of her pregnancy. They
had had few friends in their old home in Greater Murton, so that hadn't been
a problem. All in all, they were a very happy family and despite the whole
sordid affair, they slept well at night.

***

Remember to contact me with your opinion at bienclar@yahoo.com
The only thing Nifty writers get paid in is responses.