“I huddled next to Ben while they discussed our plans. I couldn’t participate. I felt…vulnerable, listeners. Small. Everything I do relies on my voice. Not just Dominate. What is a Prophet if he cannot share his visions? Just a crazy person. I can’t afford to be insane.
“Regardless of my infirmity, Rose, Ben, and I would still meet with Sascha, though Gwen assigned Prentiss to watch over us. I looked to Asa. He’d be in charge of the Temple, or “on Malkavian babysitting duty,” as he put it. Something was off, though. When I’d first woken, I’d expected him to comfort me as Ben did. Instead, he stared from the doorway, expression alternating between curiosity and boredom. Something in him seemed unmoored. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but the words didn’t come out. I settled for a thumbs up and a smile. Asa returned it, though his heart wasn’t in it. Sometimes you’ve got to fake it ‘til you make it.
“Ben drove us an hour north and we stopped for gas in Ashburn. He took out the phone Sascha gave us and handed it to me. I tried to tell Ben: “you need to be the Herald of the Prophet,” but Ben shook his head. Rose called and spoke with Samantina on speakerphone. Rose told her we were on our way to Gaithersburg. Samantina was pleased to hear from us, but suspicious that I hadn’t answered. Rose pointed the phone at me.
“I shrugged. Odds were Sascha would recognize one of the languages I spoke. I smiled and tried to match the confidence I’d felt at Il Gran Ballo: “Good evening, listeners. This is Zachariah aka DJ Prophet of WRXL 102.1 FM. Unfortunately, we seem to have scrambled our signals and we’re broadcasting in multiple languages. How may I direct your call?” I heard shuffling and muffled voices on the other end. Whatever I had said caused a stir. Sascha’s voice came over the line. She spoke haltingly: “Are we to meet, radio jockey, future translation use?” I grinned and pumped my fist in the air. Sascha was speaking Enochian back! She understood me!
“Sascha gave us directions to an abandoned Church. She requested we dine with her if we had not fed already. She had a present and feast prepared. The three of us shared a look. We were hungry. Though, even if we weren’t, it seemed a bad idea to turn down an Archbishop’s hospitality.
“The trip should have only been an hour total, but with the Bubble cutting off most bridges, we had to drive north to Point of Rocks and then southeast. Even so, we were still an hour away, and Rose was starving after feeding the Thin-bloods and Asa at the Temple. Ben suggested Rose hunt. I tried to ask her not to transform in the car. Unfortunately, the words did not come out in English. I closed my eyes, but that didn’t block out the crunching. She pawed at the door until Ben let her out. We listened to the radio for twenty minutes until she returned. Nothing good was on, but the ads were familiar. Even at the end of the world, you can’t beat the deals at Nordstrom Rack.
“The Church was certainly abandoned, though a dim light from within illuminated broken stained glass windows. Rose stayed at the car in case this was a trap. Ben pushed the door with a loud creaking straight from a horror film. Samantina stood in the doorway. I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, or if the shadows actually quivered behind her. Ben stood firm, though. He’s so brave, listeners. I don’t know how he does it. He said: “I am Ben. Herald of the Prophet. I believe Sascha would like to speak with the Prophet.” I tried to say “He is my Childe. We are glad to see you.” Whatever language came out, Samantina nodded like she understood me.
“Sascha stood in the door of the knave. Her body was older now, maybe that of an adult woman in her forties. She wore a simple tunic dress and a nun’s head piece. I felt under-dressed in my leather jacket and black t-shirt. She looked very pleased to see us. Before her was a long, wooden table covered in a black velvet cloth. A few golden pitchers were set out with a set of matching goblets. The scent of blood, heady and rich, filled the air. Behind her was the altar. A cross hung high on the wall, but the rest of the stained glass and wall was covered with a grey veil. Rose sniffed the air but made no comment.
“We sat and drank. I didn’t let myself think about who this blood had come from. I explained my situation as that I had “eaten the madness my brother Damien placed within Jordan and was digesting it.” I could tell I was speaking Enochian. It doesn’t have words for a lot of things. Words like “sorry” and “friend” felt alien in my throat. But that didn’t bother Sascha. She was thrilled! She had studied Enochian for centuries and pieced together some pronunciation from context and older translations, but hearing a “native” speaker like me gave her so much more. Tears welled her eyes as she replied in Enochian: “I cry to hear the true tongue speak. Lifetime to study the words of our ancestors. Desire to understand the full weight of their evil. All thought the mother language gone, only left in reading.”
“Fortunately, Sascha could understand all four of the languages I spoke, so she deftly translated for me when the others looked confused. She was surprised that “public schools these days” did not teach Latin. We asked what she knew of Enoch and Enochian. I told her I had seen it in my visions, and it had been destroyed in an asteroid strike.
“Sascha shared that it had been named for Caine’s first Childe, Enoch the Wise. His siblings were Irad the Strong and Zillah the Beautiful. They administered the City of Enoch for centuries. During that time, they had Childer themselves. But those Grandchilder of Caine were restless and needy. They created the thirteen clans of Caine. But God did not take kindly to the world they had made. God had punished the wicked Childer of Caine with a Flood.
“I asked if this was the Flood in Genesis. Sascha said it was possible, but there had been many great floods and legends surrounding them. She said thirteen of Caine’s Grandchilder and one Childe survived the flood, though other stories say seventeen Cainites did. They built cities anew. But all made the same mistakes. Caine turned away from the Cities. He sunk into the earth. His descendants sought him out, but he turned them away.
“Fighting broke out between the cities. They destroyed their own parents. Zillah. Irad. and Enoch. They built one city to rule, but it fell. Some old sects still remain from those days, much older than the Sabbat. A night war rose. Sascha didn’t have more information on it, but she had her suspicions. She had read fragmented tales of something the Kindred built flying away from Enoch, and it would return with Gehenna. I don’t think I reacted to the obvious reference to the Temple.
“Sascha seemed to realize we had received way more information than we could process and politely pivoted to speak of us and our plans for the future. We told her of Ruth’s attack, though avoided mentioning the Temple. I told her I had tasted the blood of Darius and Sinéad. It seemed Montbatton had tricked many Malkavians into drinking Ruth’s blood. I had no idea if he had done so before or after Elysium. Rose shared that a similar incident had occurred a decade ago in Georgetown. Sascha was concerned at the extent of the betrayal that occurred under their noses but did not fault us for their deaths.
“Instead, Sascha believed we were who we said we were, and that we were genuinely trying to stop Gehenna. She had done her homework after using Spirit Touch on our severed arms. Sascha said she knew Rose had fought at the Battle of Bull Run. Sascha didn’t sound accusatory, though. I think she wanted to observe Rose’s reaction. Rose nodded. She did not deny her involvement, nor did she act ashamed. She had been a soldier for the Camarilla. But Rose had rejected that life and been reborn. I remembered my vision of Sascha mutilating her body and founding the Sabbat as the Sword of Caine. I think Sascha understood Rose more than Ben or I ever would.
“Sascha was disappointed that Asa had not come with us, as someone in the Sabbat wished to meet with him. A fellow Salubri, apparently, by the name of Samael. For those who didn’t catch our earlier broadcasts when Asa joined our little superhero team, there are eight total Salubri in existence. It seemed impossible that one on the path to Golconda would participate in the Sabbat’s brutality. We promised to pass the message along and apologized for Asa’s absence. He had to stay hidden, as Asa was being tracked by Number Four of the Tremere.
“Sascha nodded. The Tremere were our mutual enemy. Sascha told us she had been elevated to Archbishop of Washington, but hopefully that would not be for much longer. She was not interested in the responsibilities or politicking the role required. She had to be careful. Unlike the Camarilla, where a Prince tended to rule with an iron fist, most high-ranked members of the Sabbat could operate freely. Many were quite angry that she had not actually killed the three interlopers to Il Gran Ballo. But for now, she had many resources at her disposal. So, if there was something she could do for us, or we for her, now would be the time to make plans.
“The moment of truth. We discussed Andrews Air Force Base. The North America 1 Chantry was the heart of Tremere power. They had sent George and Number Four to bring us in and find the Temple. We told Sascha that Asa’s sire was held there. We needed to save her. Sascha nodded. The Conquest of D.C. remained unfinished until the C.E.Z. was fully destroyed. That’s the Camarilla Exclusion Zone protecting the most important buildings in D.C. I suppose keeping vampires with mind-altering powers and low impulse control away from the most powerful people in the world was a good idea, right? But, in for a penny, and all that.
“After confirming that the Sabbat didn’t want to kill the President or start a war with the U.S. Army, we talked strategy. The place was surrounded by wards and ghouls and the greatest magical and mundane surveillance technology in existence. There was no way the Sabbat could walk in without being obliterated or noticed by the humans. But below the Air Force Base was a secret basement with a portal to a pocket dimension where most kindred activity took place. Sascha didn’t have all the details, but she had a plan if one of us could get inside. The Lasombra were developing of shadow portal of their own. If we could get it into the Pocket Dimension, it would form a bridge to let the Lasombra in and wreak hell in the very heart of their power.
“I looked to Rose and Ben. Ben was paler than usual. I could read the anxiety tightening around his eyes and mouth. Rose nodded. We couldn’t live with the Tremere not-breathing down our necks for the rest of our not-lives. Perhaps you think it unwise, listeners, to help an Archbishop depose the very power structure keeping everything normal. You heard the horrors at Il Gran Ballo. How could we let the Sabbat get a stronger foothold in our hometown? I wish I had a satisfactory answer for you, listeners. I don’t think there are any good sides in this war.
“We agreed. We had Number Seven staked after his botched attempt to capture us, and Number Four was close by. Between the two of them, we could find a way in. Sometime in the next two weeks, we would strike at the Andrews Air Force Base. We would meet again once Sascha had the device ready. For those with their calendars handy, that would be by January 14th, 1995. In the meantime, Sascha would give us a heads up if the Tal’mahe’Ra, or Black Hand, got too close.
“Sascha stood. We did as well. We had long finished our meal and were full of blood. I had not experienced any memories. Perhaps the blood had been too diluted. Perhaps it was because they were already dead. Sascha walked to the veil at the back of the room. Her voice echoed in the ruined Church. “The present I promised. A piece of art. I used Spirit Touch to learn much of you, Rose. I never trusted the traitor.” She pulled hard on the veil. It fluttered dramatically to the ground. It took a few moments to register the sight. Someone had been splayed across the wall, their skin and muscles stretched impossibly taut. Too many eyes blinked back at us. Flies clung to tendons and sinew. The drone was almost deafening. Had Sascha kept it quiet this whole time? Rose whispered the name “Bottleneck.” I remembered the story she told of her friend, Henry, and the man who had ghouled and groomed him into a blood bond. It had been a cautionary tale for Ben and I. But now they were real.
“At the center was the heart. It beat slowly, maybe once every ten seconds. It was laced with honeycomb. Hundreds of bees were trapped inside the muscle and beeswax. They buzzed unhappily, attempting to wiggle free. Sascha spoke once more: “I found poor Henry already diablerized. The bees had nowhere to go. I did try to force in some parts of his undead flesh, but Henry had already been subsumed. Bottleneck got what he wanted. They’re together now. Until the sun comes up, at least.” Rose nodded slowly. She was lost for words. I clung to Ben’s arm. I could not tell if it was to stop him from running, or to stop me from doing so. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Samantina and Sascha slip out the front door and into the night. We stared at the wall for what felt like a long, long time.”
Canticles of the Prophet Zachariah:
The Archbishop’s Gift
Notes by Anthony
“I woke up screaming and crying and coughing up blood. Jordan’s sire, Christopher, had been murdered. Jordan watched him die over and over again. It was brutal. I’ll spare you the details. Jordan’s two children huddled in a corner. They wore rags and cried out in hunger. He could only see them in glimpses. Sometimes, Jordan cradled Christopher’s limp, bloodied body in his arms as he searched for them. Other times, he simply held his sire and wept: “I tried to save you. I couldn’t save you, Christoff. I’m so sorry. Stop crying. Please stop crying.” I couldn’t tell if he was talking to his children, or himself.
“Slowly, I realized I was not Jordan. These were his nightmares. In reality, Jordan’s children had grown up and had children of their own. Jordan had watched over them from afar for generations. In hard times, he’d pretend some distant relative had died and bequeathed them a small fortune. Christoff’s death was real, though.
“Ben was rubbing my back and mumbling nonsense. At least, I thought it was nonsense. I tried to tell him I had saved Jordan, but he couldn’t understand me. Eventually, I was able to understand English again, but I could only speak it a fourth of the time. With the help of Gwen and Joan, we figured out I was switching between Enochian, Latin, Middle English, and Modern English. Through a lot of pantomime that would have been comical if it wasn’t so frustrating, I told them I had brought Jordan him into my dreams. In cleansing his madness, I had downloaded the languages he spoke, but the files had gotten all mixed up in my head.