I wanted to kill your Daddy but you beat me to it! [Invite]

[Samantha Rose (DELETED 9239)]

Justice, revenge, whatever name fit best, it had been robbed from her several years ago. A man had killed her in a malicious act of evil. Her soul had clung to her body to the bitter end, hoping against hope for survival, and that hope was answered. Her body was dumped unceremoniously aside like unwanted trash, and found by those that would save her, help her recover and heal, and finally grow stronger than she had ever been before. Once she had finished her training as a sorcerer she had been given the initiation test of killing the one who had ended her life, the one who had started her down this path, her best friend’s father, an evil and sadistic ********.

When Samantha had turned up at the house where he still lived, she was dismayed to find that he was already dead, the air rank with the scent of the undead, vampires. Somehow she had developed the ability to recognise the scents of other beings, the cause of this coming to be unknown. She knew there had been two, one male, one female, and the female seemed familiar somehow, as if she’d been in her presence before.

Samantha had swept the house for clues as to who the vampires had been, why they had murdered the man she had come to kill herself. That was the interesting part; this wasn’t a simple act of feeding, but an execution. Someone other than Samantha had been out to kill this man and this person or people had been supernatural too. Just what had this man done to piss off multiple members of the supernatural world? Her search turned up nothing of value other than fallen hairs, some of which were artificially coloured, and the scent on those hairs was the one she recognised. “I wonder, just who are you? I think I need to pay my friend in forensics a visit and find out.” She decided no other evidence would be needed, her hunch being this one strand of hair was all she needed to get to this bottom of this mystery.

~ ~ ~

A few days later she had the results from the DNA test her contact in forensics had done on the strand of hair Samantha had found at the murder scene. Her eyes went wide when she saw the name, “Kayden?! A vampire?! I suppose that answers why he was murdered and not just lunch after the **** he put you through before he killed me, and I can only imagine what happened afterwards. But how the **** did you end up being a vampire?” She shook her head in disbelief, she was going to have to report this back to her Order, explain why she had been unable to complete her task, and see where she went from there. At the end of the day Kayden had more right to kill him than Samantha had; he had tortured her for years, and then some. She put on her coat and walked out the door, the sooner she got this over with the better. Samantha wasn’t sure how the Order would react to this news, but she was confident that given the history of the entire situation they would understand her being denied the completion of her task, and accept that it was the way it was always meant to be.

~ ~ ~

Several years had passed by since that event took place, and luckily for Samantha her initiation was considered complete given the circumstances, especially since she had identified who had beaten her to it, and explained why she felt Kayden had more right to his execution than she had, given their shared history. The Order had forbidden her for some time from tracking down her old friend, the now vampire, Kayden, for these past years, but now she had been ordered to reach out to her, to seek a union of sorts, as they had been keeping an eye on her, had known where she was the whole time, and so on this day Samantha found herself standing outside a nightclub that her friend supposedly owned, bequeathed to her when her husband left town, seemingly permanently according to research the Order had done, and she was a nervous wreck.

“Kayden” she said with a soft sigh as she stood anxiously outside of the door that had loud music blasting from within, the type of music she typically associated with Kayden, or Jezebel as she apparently now called herself. “I’m not calling you Jezebel, no ******* way” she laughed to herself “or Jez. Okay Kay, let’s get this over with, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” Of course she was still talking to herself, nobody else near enough to hear what she was saying, or so she assumed, who knew what vampires might be overhearing her spoken-aloud-inner-monologue, and once she was done she reached out and opened the door, the heavy beat of the wild music from within hitting her with all its might, and she smiled as the familiarity of it washed over her, calming her nerves some. The five foot four, twenty-something brunette, stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. She stood there for a moment, dressed for the occasion, wearing platform Goth boots to make her a few inches taller, but not too tall, and an array of spider web designed Goth clothing. “How the **** do I find you in here?” she muttered to herself, the noise deafening, and the crowd bigger than she expected. This was going to be a lot harder than she though. With a deep breath she stepped into the crowd, guessing one of the bars would be a good place to start.

Moving through the throng of Goths, metalheads, punks, and everyone else out for a good time that night, Samantha began closing in on each of the bars in turn, scanning them to see if Kayden was serving behind one of them, or just there doing something managerial. Big clubs like this one always had multiple bars lining the walls, and this one was no different. Just how many bars there were she wasn’t sure, at least not yet, but there were a lot. After looking at all the bars and not seeing anyone that looked remotely like Kayden, Samantha decided it was time to actually ask someone, going right up to the closest bar.

“Is Kayden here?” she asked loudly.

“Who?” the girl behind the bar responded, confused.

“Kay-” she paused, realised she was saying the wrong name and corrected herself “Jezebel. The woman that owns this place, is she here?”

A look of clarity came across the girl’s features and she nodded “yeah she’s out back. Wait here and I’ll go get her. Who do I say is asking for her?”

Samantha paused, then grinned, more to herself “a very old friend.” The girl behind the bar rolled her eyes sarcastically, and laughed. “How original” she said, shaking her head as Samantha shrugged her shoulders. The girl spoke to one of the others behind the bar who nodded in response, and then she was gone, off to find Jezebel for Samantha. “I really hope this doesn’t all blow up in my face” Sam muttered to herself, ordering a double Southern Comfort and lemonade while she waited. The need for Dutch Courage was starting to set in.

[Jezebel Tzasun]

Time had ticked by just as it always had for her. In other words, it passed by completely unnoticed. It was just one of those things that didn’t make much difference to the woman, at least not since the night she was turned. Some could argue that it was against her will, since technically she could not have given an answer. Then there were those, such as the one in question, that believed it had been some sort of strange blessing in disguise. After all, it had given the woman a second chance of sorts, perhaps even a third chance, at life. It was all a matter of perspective really, and one she found herself debating with others whenever the topic managed to pop up.

Off and on over the years Jezebel had been dealing with random new pieces of evidence of just how cruel her father had truly been in life. Often it would drive her to tears. Not because of how mean and cruel he had proved himself to be to others, but because of the fact that she was related to him. Most of the records she could find, whether through public records or by other means, pointed to him being far meaner than first imagined. The stuff that came out of Germany though was by far the most horrific; ranging from assault to murder, and every gruesome act in between.

At a young age the woman, then known as Kayden Marie Tzasun, had learned of her father’s mean and abusive nature. He wore his anger and hatred like a second skin. It came so naturally to him that there was never any doubt in her mind, even at the age of five, that he could kill. Things had escalated quickly when she fell ill. Everything got worse almost as soon as she had started showing signs of being ill, but the abuse really kicked off following her diagnosis; an inoperable brain tumor that would slowly eat away at her life until there was nothing left but a withered shell that would eventually cease to exist.

Those that knew her, at least those that had the chance to get to know her since her turning, knew very little of the extent of her illness. Most of them only knew she had been ill, but that was about it, except for maybe a few other small details. Still, the main ones that ever knew of her condition had been humans, most of which the woman was certain were probably dead or had forgotten about her since her ‘death.’

Since her turning though Jezebel had managed to create a decent living for herself. Yeah the humans knew of what she was, but that didn’t stop her from ‘living’ the way she had wanted. There were two businesses, the club and a clothing store, which kept her pretty busy, with the possibility of expanding being there. If one of her places, whether business or personal, started to bore her of become too ‘stuffy’ there were always others to choose between. On top of all of that, she had a few friends that could be counted on. Overall, things were going pretty well for the Necromancer.

The club was thriving, just as she knew it would. People were lined up to get in, and those already inside showed no sign of leaving anytime soon. Between the music being played, the drinks, dance floor, and the numerous secluded areas for those that needed them, there was plenty to be offered to the patrons. The staff was more than capable to keep things running smoothly, whether she was in there watching them or not. They all knew what was expected of them, and it wasn’t very often that they would ever fail her. It took extraordinary things to throw them off their groove, so to say.

Jezebel took a small moment to look around. Everything was definitely running the way she needed it to, and with that in mind, she informed the closest staff member she was heading out back for a bit. The other woman simply nodded in understanding as her boss already started walking off. It didn’t take her too long to navigate her way through the huge crowd.

As soon as the night air hit her face the stiff facade she wore while working fell away. It was tiring maintaining that after so many hours. Between the paperwork she had to do and the few pissed off customers that needed to be handled practically every single night, it got old. At least out back, out of sight of the patrons and almost everyone else, she could relax some.

Without any amount of hesitation or thought, she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her coat pocket, along with a silver lighter she was fairly certain had been found in the manor. As soon as that source of nicotine was between her lips and lit, Jezebel was practically in paradise. There was a moment of peace, at least until her phone rang. An aggravated sigh escaped those dark lips just seconds before she answered the call. The number went unnoticed by her, just like most of them did.

“Hello?” It took every ounce of effort she could spare to stop the aggravation from seeping into the word. Apparently even her best efforts were not enough. The person on the other end quickly apologized and terminated the call. She found it to be a bit strange, but nothing that was new or unsettling. Oh well, that meant Jezebel could go back to enjoying that terrible habit she could never shake; smoking. Of course it wasn’t like the act of it would kill her, but still, the habit would go away despite everything she tried. Perhaps quitting just wasn’t an option for her yet.

Even outside the music from within the club could be heard. There was even the faintest of vibrations that shook the building. The vibrations were barely noticeable but she could feel them. It was such a fascinating sensation to the woman. With each change in the music the vibrations would change and alter, following the beat of the music. It brought life to the building; almost as if it was breathing, truly taking on a life of its own.

The woman was almost lost to the sensations and her own thoughts when the door just a few feet away from her opened. It took her a moment to regain that steady, and sort of stiff composure she used when dealing with most humans. As soon as the other woman spotted she wasted no time approaching her boss despite being visibly nervous. Clearly there had been a precedent set that dealt with disturbing the boss lady while she was taking a break. She didn’t say it out loud, worried that there could be someone lurking about that could overhear her say Jezebel’s birth name. Why the possibility of someone hearing that bothered the employee wasn’t clear, but it was something the Goth would have to check in to at some point.

There shouldn’t have been anyone looking for that knew that name, at least not anymore. Curiosity crept its way into her mind and across her features, but mixed in with it was still the clear signs of annoyance that she couldn’t quite shake. Upon seeing the expression of her boss’s face, the woman turned and quickly went back inside. There was no need for Jezebel to rush, if it was important the person looking for her would wait.

A hand ran through red and black locks, pulling several stray strands back out of the way. Smoke trailed from between pierced lips as she finished off the cigarette before flicking it off into the alley somewhere. It was then that she realized she should probably really put something back there for all of her smoke breaks. That was a task for another evening, if she could remember to actually do it.

The stiff composure of the boss lady fell away. In its place came that of her normal self. There wasn’t much to be said for it, other than the fact that it made people clear out of her way as she made her way back to the bar where the woman was located. Still, there wasn’t even the slightest inkling that someone from her past had came back to possibly to bite her in the ***. Yes, they had been friends, but there was no telling exactly how things would go, or just how much the woman knew.

A few of the people at the bar moved over upon recognizing her as the owner of the club. It was a nice gesture, but there was no intention of staying there. As soon as she could, they would move their meeting of sorts to a more private area. More than likely it would be moved to her office upstairs.

It wasn’t hard to spot the woman that had been looking for her. She was visibly nervous, despite the drinks. Jezebel’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she struggled to place the woman’s face. It didn’t take long before she, by some bizarre miracle, managed to recall the woman’s name along with bits and pieces of their friendship.

“You were looking for me? Why have you bothered with this now after all this time?” There was reason for her to waste time of pleasantries and small talk. They weren’t things she really cared about. In fact, for the most part, they were seen as merely wastes of time that had no place in what they were possibly going to discuss.