A Change of Loyalty
#2 of Changes
Sequel to "A Change of Company"
A Change of Loyalty By Raska Kannagami
Samir had fought bravely, he thought. Samir was no coward, and had fought the vampires as best he could, given his circumstances and his marked disadvantage. But they had subdued him in the end. They did it with some poison, something containing silver most likely. It wouldn't kill him - silver acted differently on each of the Werebeast Houses. On those of House Rattus - Wererats - it merely made them weak and sluggish, as well as preventing them from regenerating wounds.
Drugged with silver as he was, he offered little resistance as they stripped him naked and bolted him to a silver-plated cross. And then they left him. Not for long, at any rate, as it was merely an hour after his capture, with the silver drug already almost completely out of his system, that the door to his cell opened and in stepped...a queen.
Loathe as he was to admit it, 'queenly' was the only adjective Samir could adhere to the female vampire who strode into his cell. She was tall and fair-skinned (not that pale skin was out of the norm for vampires), with flowing white hair and a rather curvy figure. And she was dressed to accentuate all her best attributes. Her dress was a dark emerald color made of silk, and it hugged her breasts quite closely while still managing to flow down her body like liquid cloth. Around her neck was a necklace of gold and onyx, and she wore lipstick that was likely as black as her unbeating heart. She wore no more jewelry or makeup than that, and this simplicity complimented her very well. All in all, if he didn't know she was a leech, Samir might have called her beautiful.
Her thralls brought her a comfortable chair, a table, and a ornate wooden box. She promptly sat in the chair and dismissed her thralls. After a few minutes of silence, Samir spoke, "I didn't know leeches enjoyed rat meat."
"We don't," she replied, her voice melodious, "Which is part of the reason you're still alive."
"Oh? Do tell." Samir spat.
"Now, now. No need to forget your courtesies. Let's start with introductions. I am Morana, Queen of the Night and Harbinger of the Second Darkness. And your name is...?"
"I daresay I can't match the grandness of your titles, "lady", but allow me to make up for it with fair speech," Samir began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, yet perfectly enunciated and polite, "I am Samir, second son of Sammael, who is the current Lord of House Rattus."
The vampire queen clapped her hands, "Oh! Delightful! You are the one I wanted. Excellent! This means I won't have to kill any of my thralls."
"I am so excited for you. Can't you just see my joy?"
She shrugged, "I could not care less about your "joy". The emotions I'm most interested in are fear and loathing."
"You should go to Las Vegas, then."
"Eh. I've never been much of a gambler," she replied, grinning a Cheshire Cat grin that was made all the more unsettling because this grin had a great deal more malevolence.
Samir was growing tired of this, "So, can we get on with this? Or is crucifying me and then talking me to death the only thing you have on your itinerary for today?"
Her grin widened, "Well, if my esteemed guest from House Rattus should insist, I suppose we'll skip the small talk and get down to business. Also, I would like to point out that the contraption that you're secured to, while cross-like, is not a crucifix. Your arms are held perpendicular to your body as opposed to at an angle, so you should be having no problems breathing or any of the other issues associated with crucifixion."
"I should not be surprised that you show such knowledge of instruments of torture," Samir replied. He didn't even bother to test his restraints, the silver pressing against his bare body robbed him of his strength.
"It's not really an instrument of torture. See, the Romans used it more as a deter--"
"I would really rather not have a history lesson right now, fascinating as the subject may be to you."
She frowned, "Hmph. Fine. Firstly, I have two questions for you. Are the rumors that House Rattus is the only House to still use the Old Magic true?"
Samir saw no reason to deny it, "Yes. But we cannot use the old sorceries within one-hundred and fifty feet of silver, nor can we use it for a day after merely being in contact with silver. So if you want me to cast anything for you, securing me to silver isn't exactly the best way to go about it. Besides, I'd rather die than do something for one of you leeches."
Her only reaction to this was a raised eyebrow, "Oh? I think in a few moments, you'll reconsider." She opened the ornate box that her thrall had brought for her, and daintily removed its contents onto the table. A syringe...and a vial filled with a sinister red liquid.
"Drugs don't work on us, lady, you know that. Even with silver touching me, a wererat's metabolism is fast enough that most drugs won't work on us," Samir scoffed.
"But what about diseases?"
Samir's blood ran cold, and he was thankful vampires couldn't pick up on the pheromone cues that betrayed emotional states, "Werebeasts don't get diseases."
The vampire queen wagged her finger at him, "Ah ah ah. There was one."
Samir made the connection easily enough, and swallowed hard."Plague," he whispered, his voice failing him.
His captor nodded, "In the early 1300s, a chain of events began that would kick off one of the largest and most devastating pandemics in human - or werebeast - history. And it all started with House Rattus."
It was true. While scholars had long debated what had caused the Black Death to spread so virulently, Werebeasts and House Rattus in particular knew the truth. Plague ripped through a Wererat's system with almost gleeful efficiency, consuming every part of their body within hours. But it didn't kill them quickly - they could live asymptomatic for weeks and even months. Wererats were probably the plague's most numerous carriers, and they spread it everywhere they set foot. Just talking with an infected wererat was enough for a human to get infected themselves, and from there the human would infect others. The plague only died out because the population of Europe - regardless of species - had been decimated to the point where the disease could no longer spread. Afterward, House Canis and House Panthera made a one-time alliance and drove wererats from their respective continents with fire, sword, and zeal. It had taken hundreds of years for House Rattus to regain the trust of their brethren.
Stroking the vial, Morana crooned, "Yersinia pestis - known by the humans as 'plague'. And now we come to my second question: what do werebeasts call it?"
"Contagion."
She smiled, "Yes. With that knowledge, I think I'll call this new breed of it Morana contagione - Morana's contagion. I had my thralls and minions work very hard to create it. This plague has been made even more virulent than its predecessor, and has an even greater ability to affect werebeasts. Also, lest you think I've been lax, I also had them make it possess a resistance - nay, immunity - to even the most powerful antibiotics. And that is what is contained in this little vial, along with various substances that feed bacterial growth."
With that exposition out of the way, she promptly took up the syringe and filled it with the liquid plague. Then she stood from her chair and advanced on Samir, who was shamelessly cowering against the cross he was secured to, begging gods old and new to let him escape somehow.
The bite of the syringe was not as painful as he expected, but the implications sent the cold wash of fear through his veins. When she was done injecting him, she tossed the syringe carelessly to the floor. "Now, don't despair. I had the Morana contagione created with a built-in self-destruct. That is to say, I've also made an antidote. Now, if you do all that I ask of you - do the things I tell you to do, go the places I tell you to go...I will give you this antidote, and you will never once need worry about infecting your people, your brethren werebeasts, or the humans your kind are so attached to. But only if you obey me."
Samir slumped against the cross, "What would you have me do?"
Morana smiled that Cheshire smile again. * * * * *
"What do they mean, 'wanted in connection with...'? I didn't do anything! I didn't kill anyone! You did!" Marcus asked them, hyperventilating.
"Calm down, Marcus," Adrian said, holding his hands out.
"Fuck you! You killed them, you're the murderer! And they think I did it!? They're gonna send me to jail forever. I have no alibi. What am I going to say, 'Well, I was there, but I swear I didn't kill them...a werewolf did it.'? ...This is all your fault!"
Adrian's friend Tom rolled his eyes, "First of all, pup, vampires are already dead, so you can hardly call Adrian a murderer for killing something that by rights should already be dead. Secondly, you didn't pay attention to that newscast. For one thing, they never made mention of your age or the manner of the 'grisly murders', lest people make the connection that you were able to even do that. For another thing, it's well-known that vampires have their thralls and accomplices in all branches of the government. I'd be willing to bet that this was a setup by them. But what I can't figure out is why they want you so bad in the first place."
This did not calm Marcus down in the least, "Oh, great! Now, not only do the police and FBI want me, but a shadowy group of illuminati vampires wants me, too!" He looked up at the ceiling, "God, when I said I wanted to be more popular this is not what I meant!"
Tom had to chuckle at that, but Adrian's face was serious, "Look, Marcus, I know this is bad, but trust me - we're not going to let them get at you. You'll be safe with us."
Tom nodded his agreement, "He's right, pup. We'll protect you - no leech is any match for a werebeast...even a wererat would have an advantage in a one-on-one." Turning to Adrian, he said, "We should take this to Miles, he'll know what we should do from here."
Adrian shook his head, "Miles and Lucy have gone on vacation...somewhere in the Urals, I believe...they won't be back for another week."
"Whoa whoa wait. Does this mean you're in charge until Miles gets back? I take it back, pup, we're all gonna die." Adrian cuffed him playfully.
"Who are Miles and Lucy? What do you mean 'in charge'?" Marcus asked, looking from one to the other.
"Miles is the local boss around here. If this were some teenage-girl fantasy werewolf story, he'd be called our 'Alpha' or something stupid like that. He's in charge of all the werebeasts in Umbra County. Tom here's from the next county over, so he answers to a different boss, but Miles is probably the oldest of us in the state, and he's pretty smart, so even other bosses defer to him from time to time," Adrian explained.
Marcus nodded, "So...you keep saying 'werebeast'...does that mean there's more than just werewolves?"
Adrian looked at Tom, "You be the exposition fairy."
"Why do I have to...?"
" 'Cause your 'Oirish brogue' makes any story less boring? That, and I have to go take a piss."
"Fine," Tom grumbled as Adrian left the kitchen.
* * * * *
Werebeasts have always organized themselves into 'Houses', depending on what animal they resemble in their Changed form. Long ago, there were a dozen or more Houses, one for each Change form. But then the Contagion struck Europe in the late 1340s, and by the time it subsided the social and political landscape had changed. The plague had not been restricted to humans, but had also affected us werebeasts, and though our populations were not nearly as ravaged by the Contagion as human populations were, we did not emerge from that time unscathed.
The Houses were reorganized, taking on the name of the genus that their members shared. Thus, the former Houses that encompassed werewolves, dire werewolves, werejackals, and werecoyotes became House Canis.
Werelions, wereleopards, and weretigers would become known as House Panthera.
The different flavors of 'werebear' became House Ursus.
Werefoxes and Kitsune - both of whom will tell you that they are different somehow from the other - constituted House Vulpes.
And the last three Houses all only have one species each...House Felis is werecats, House Crocuta is were-hyenas, and the last one would be called "House Nyctereutes", but most of us just call them House Tanuki, which is, obviously, Tanuki.
The Lords of each house are like kings among werebeasts, with absolute authority over members of their House, except unlike kings, their authority transcends borders. The Lord of House Canis can give orders to members of his House no matter if they are citizens of Germany, France, England, or wherever else. The Lords often delegate authority, though, with each country or whatever having its own regional lord, who in turn may further delegate authority. For example, here in the United States, the regional lord for House Canis is like the President, and he delegates authority to 'Governors', who are akin to state governors, except their only 'constituents' are werebeasts of House Canis, who in turn allow groups or clans of us to choose our own leader, called a Boss.
* * * * * "So, what if the Lord of House Canis wants to give a...say...werebear...an order? Tell him to do or not do something," Marcus asked when Tom was done explaining.
"Well, wa-a-ay back when, a Lord of a House was still a Lord even if you weren't of his or her House. But nowadays, the different Lords have absolutely no authority over members of other Houses, and your hypothetical Lord Canis would have to ask the Lord Ursus to issue the requisite command," Tom answered, rummaging through the fridge before finally producing a soda.
"So, why was...Adrian...at my house anyways? Is he some kind of vampire hunter?"
"Yes," Adrian answered as he came back, "We usually take it on ourselves to hunt down and kill vampires in our territory."
"Why?" Marcus asked. Adrian was interrupted from responding by the doorbell ringing.
As Adrian went to answer the door, Tom again provided the explanation, "The first Vampires were humans, ones who had made pledges of fealty to the dark powers of the world. In return for their immortal souls, these dark gods granted them immortal life. But, it came at an unexpected cost. While they would live forever, they would still age and eventually decay...unless they drank the blood - and life - of their fellow humans. Werebeasts, on the other paw, were ones who had died defending their friends, family, and tribe against these horrid abominations, and who had begged the gods in their last minute of life to be given the chance to live - not because they feared death, but so they could save their loved ones from the vampire threat.
"So, you could say we have always been the vampires' sworn enemies. But we both share some weaknesses. Vampires and Werebeasts alike are weakened by silver...though vampires cannot stand to even be within a few feet of pure silver. Werebeasts...well, each House is affected differently by Silver. House Canis has the greatest resistance to it - wounds made by silver weapons heal only slightly less quickly, and contact with silver does nothing at all to us."
"What about daylight? Don't vampires, like, turn to ash in sunlight...or something?"
Tom nodded, "It used to be that way. During the middle ages, a vampire could not so much as let a single ray of sunlight touch him, lest he begin to rapidly decay and turn to ash. But it seems over time the 'race' has become more resistant. Nowadays, sunlight merely quickens their aging, but not by much. There is some theory that they did something to get rid of their vulnerability to sunlight, but we werebeasts have no clue what that something might have been. I think that is for the best, anything a vampire "does" is bound to be horribly sickening."
Adrian reentered the kitchen, flanked by two more people. They looked like twins, and they were very Native American-looking, "Boss Miles is dead, " Adrian announced with a grim face.
* * * * *
Samir crept through the ruins carefully, cursing occasionally when he stumbled over some piece of debris. He was in his Changed form, the better to blend in with the night, and also to creep through small, tight spaces. In his Changed form he was no larger than a human toddler, and he had a rat's ability to squeeze through spaces smaller than he was. After nearly an hour of searching, he found what he'd been sent for. A small obelisk, no higher than his navel, etched with ancient runes and markings.
Those markings glowed blue at his touch, and he sighed, wishing he didn't have to do what he had to do. Starting at the western face of the obelisk, he began reading the symbols, chanting in a language long-dead. He read the entire obelisk, moving from west, to north, to east, and finally south. As he shouted the last syllable of the spell, he slammed his paw down on the obelisk's point - which was still razor-sharp even after hundreds of years.
The ground around the obelisk began to bubble and become liquid, forcing Samir to spring back in alarm. From the roiling ground emerged a...creature, clawing its way onto solid ground amid groans and screeches.
With his throat constricting in fear, Samir managed to speak, "Arise...Lord Cain...first...Lord of the Night."