Canticles of the Prophet Zachariah:

A Separate Piece

Notes by Anthony

“I had only moments to act. The Sabbat were in disarray. Dozens had seen the red star and were pointing it out to their companions, while the majority stared in confusion at the perfectly normal night sky. But six Malkavians were still pointing at us like the end of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. We couldn’t flee, even if we wanted to. I clutched at the microphone and audio cables I’d placed in my jacket pocket. It had been a crazy impulse. A real DJ needed a microphone, right? 

“There was nothing to plug into, but DJ he had the confidence and charm to pull this off a cappella. DJ grinned at Asa as he pulled out the microphone. Without a word, Asa knelt and boosted DJ into the stands before following. DJ surveyed the crowd from his new vantage point. They were already garnering attention. DJ thanked his lucky stars he had taken those theater classes at UVA and learned to project his voice. Listeners were so fickle. They’d change the channel after a second of dead air. DJ raised the microphone to his lips and inhaled the crisp night air.

Welcome back, dear listeners, to WRXL 102.1 FM. I know we’ve been off the airwaves for quite a few weeks now, but like your undead host, DJ Prophet, our show has risen from the grave to bring you the latest and greatest apocalyptic revelations this side of Jerusalem.

Let me tell you first of the red sun. Wormwood. Hanging over our heads like the Sword of Damocles itself. I saw it weeks ago in my dreams. It will boil the seas with angry fire. Anyone who survives the immolation will be devoured by the tentacled inhabitants. I can assure you, dear listeners, our flesh is just as tasty as the human blood you feed on now.

But there are apocalypses closer to home. A child walks through D.C. with daggers thrust through its eyes. He releases a spark of darkness from his cupped hands, and the black nothingness consumes the world. New York City is next. Bones burst forth from the sewers. Flesh bubbles up. People scream as they merge with its flesh and their screams join the great chorus of skin and blood below.

I have dreamt of a woman trapped in a lake. She wants to reunite with her demon lover and tear down the fragile veil that separates them. But she needed help to escape her prison. I tried to stop it, listeners, but I was too late. Five nights ago, a cult performed a ritual on Theodore Roosevelt Island. Right under the noses of the Camarilla and the Sabbat.

But imagine my surprise when I realized one of the leading cultists was a high-ranked member of the Sabbat. One who had walked out the front door with the pretty little captured Ventrue Primogen Jordan and used him to awaken her. Another Malkavian, I’m ashamed to say it was. Really giving the rest of us a bad name. I am, of course, referring to Montbatton.

The Camarilla buried their heads in the sand and ignored my warnings. But will you heed them, Children of Caine? Will you unite and stop the apocalypses? Track her down in the Bubble? Or will you dance the night away, hoping I’m just a crazed Malkavian with a microphone? The choice, dear listeners, is yours.

“DJ had watched the crowd carefully during his speech. He wasn’t used to giving his radio performances in front of a physical audience. But after several years at WRXL 102.1 FM, DJ had become an expert at reading callers from vocal cues alone. A physical crowd was much easier.

“Most appeared intrigued by the crazed fat guy ranting in the stands. Some had recognized the station number and the name DJ Prophet. A few shouted “heretic” during the speech, though no chant gained traction. A woman with far too many shadows had rushed towards the makeshift stage, but Tala intercepted her, and she fled. The Montbatton revelation fell flatter than DJ had hoped, but he was feeling good until a man covered in swirling shadows appeared next to him.

“DJ tried to dodge by falling off the stage, but he was too slow. Sharp teeth sunk into his neck. Icy shadows squeezed around his torso. DJ gasped. The microphone fell. Searing pain and terror filled him. But then the teeth were gone and DJ stumbled back into Asa’s protective arms. 

“The shadowed man fell from the stands onto the ground. He vomited a gush of red blood before spasming and seizing uncontrollably. Black foam bubbled from his lips and across his cheeks. DJ could not tell if the man was laughing or crying or screaming. Perhaps it was all three.

“A tall, insectoid creature approached, drawing attention away from DJ and the vomiting creature. Its voice reverberated unnaturally as it announced that ‘the position of Bishop of Essex was now open.’ For a moment, DJ thought about asking it to teach him that vocal trick. It walked up to Asa and DJ, now flanked by Tala, and asked if they would join it for a conversation. The insectoid creature walked ahead and beneath the bleachers, seemingly confident that the party-crashers would follow. The three debated for a moment but saw no way of escaping. They stepped into the corridor nestled below the stadium seats.

“In the doorway of a locker room stood little girl in a shimmering, beautiful dress. She entered, and we followed. Asa flinched at something, but DJ kept smiling. He’d met creepy immortal vampire children before. No need to panic. Tala spoke, saying the girl had the same smell as the insectoid creature. The girl nodded and introduced herself as Sascha. She told us we were watched by a Lasombra who would destroy us from the shadows if we tried anything stupid. Tala and Asa once again introduced themselves as ‘Rachel’ and ‘Freeman.’ 

“What followed was a conversation in which I believe we gave up far more information than we received, but I also fairly confident it was the right move to make. At least, we can’t undo it until we unlock the time traveling Temple. Sascha was a Ronin Priscus of the Sabbat. From what I gathered, that meant she was a leader, but not the sole leader like a Camarilla Prince. A good ally to make, if we could convince her to help us stop the end of the world.

“Sascha asked why we were here, and DJ said he was honestly here to warn the Sabbat about Ruth and Montbatton. DJ admitted he had found out about Montbatton’s name and importance in the Sabbat by scrying something the cultists had left behind, though neglected to mention this was from Jordan’s hair tie after rescuing him. DJ told Sascha we believed ‘Ruth’ was a Toreador Methuselah, though omitted the fact that we knew this because Samal said Ruth was in his lineage. DJ offered to show Sascha what he had seen via telepathy, but she declined. Letting a Malkavian into one’s mind was dangerous, though she didn’t seem to take offense at the offer.

“In turn, Sascha told us about Arikel, the Toreador Antediluvian. A great sculptress beloved by all, including Caine. She had beguiled all with her beauty, including Nosferatu. But she had scarred him, cursing his descendants with a hideous visage and turning them into bitter rivals. Sascha also revealed why the Sabbat were in D.C. It was more than just to oust the Camarilla. DJ tried not to react as she said another Ancient had been brought to the City. A Toreador named Samal. D.C. was nothing compared to the destructive potential of such a Methuselah, or the Antediluvians his presence assuredly heralded. 

“Sascha asked for our stories. Once again, DJ went first and mostly told the truth. DJ was an illegal embrace three weeks ago, saw visions of apocalypses, yadda yadda. Tried to warn anyone who would listen, but the Camarilla thought it better to hunt him instead. ‘Freeman’ said he was a recent Embrace as well. His mentor had told him to follow the prophet, but the Tremere had taken her from him. ‘Freeman’ wanted her back and he wanted revenge. It seemed innocuous enough to DJ, but a gleam in Sascha’s eye told DJ that Asa had revealed far more than he had intended.

“Tala, or ‘Rachel,’ was next. She was a few years older than Freeman or DJ. ‘Rachel’ had fought for the Camarilla under a different name and face but had left their service when the Camarilla fell. DJ was now her ward, and she would protect the Prophet. Once a Gangrel, ‘Rachel’ had undergone a transformation and started a new life with a new pack. Again, Sascha seemed to put far more together than Tala intended to tell.

“Sascha offered us a deal. While some Sabbat had believed DJ, too many would be out for our heretic blood after DJ’s little speech. She told us we needed to leave the city. We agreed, telling her that we already had plans to travel north. Sascha’s smile grew broader. Hiding would only work if we faked our deaths. She would take a limb from each of us and make a flesh sculpture out of the heretics who had interrupted the Grand Ball. 

“In order for us to stay in contact, however, Sascha would give us The Device. Samantina entered with a box. She opened it, revealing a metal cellphone. It took every last bit of willpower for DJ to keep a straight face as Sascha described the phone as a mystical device which afforded us a previously impossible means of long-range, clandestine communication. I suppose it’s hard for ancient vampires to keep up with modern technology. I should give Sascha a radio next time I see her. I don’t know if she’d love or hate modern music, but it would be something to watch. We took the phone, and each of us agreed to give up a limb for her flesh sculpture. 

“Sascha offered to make it feel good, but Asa and Tala opted for it to be painless. Tendrils reached out from her arm and neatly cleaved Tala’s arm and Asa’s hand. DJ stuck out his arm, but Sascha and DJ appeared to remember the Bishop frothing black blood at the same time. DJ said he had no idea how his blood would react to her Tzimisce powers, and neither felt like risking it. Sascha left to fetch a tool she had been using on “Spooky Joe,” and DJ tried not to let panic overwhelm him. Sascha returned with a blood-stained bone saw. DJ shrugged his left arm out of his jeans jacket and red flannel. He held onto the end of the lockers with his right arm and stretched out his left against the cold metal. At DJ’s request, Asa stepped behind him, holding him and keeping him pinned against the lockers. Tala raised the bone saw. 

“It tore into DJ’s flesh and muscle. Bits of tendon and ligament caught on the metal teeth before snapping, jerking his arm back and forth. DJ screamed. DJ cried. DJ struggled against Asa’s grip, causing Tala to miss her mark and carve deep gouges up and down his arm. DJ bit his tongue so he wouldn’t beg for Tala to stop. For Asa to heal him. For Ben rescue him from this nightmare. 

“Mercifully, DJ passed out as Tala hit bone and woke up in stone room. It looked old, like the set of a medieval film. Candles lit the scene, resting on simple oaken furniture. Thirty or so individuals in robes stood in a rough half-circle. Most appeared human, though from their too-pale skin and their unnatural stillness when they weren’t speaking, DJ gathered they were vampires. 

“At the center was another man in robes, but DJ instinctively recognized her as Sascha. A vampire at the front was berating Sascha. He was clearly their leader, but he was quickly losing control of himself and the situation. He called out: “this anarch revolt is at an end. Vykos’ rabble is nothing more than a Sabbat!” Most of the onlookers nodded in agreement, but a few looked uncertain. Those standing closest to Vykos jeered this pronouncement, booing and hissing.

“Sascha snarled and reached into her robes. DJ and a few other vampires stepped back, afraid she was about to pull out a knife or stake. But in one violent motion, she ripped off her ‘family jewels’ and flung them to the floor in front of the leader. Blood splattered onto his robes and dripped down from beneath her robe. In the shocked silence that followed, Sascha tried to rally the crowd to her side. “The Sabbat stands for freedom! We are the Sword of Caine! We stand forever against the manipulations of the Ancients!” Her followers cheered. 

“DJ could hear someone calling his name. The vision faded as he blinked up into Asa’s concerned face. Asa had pulled DJ into his lap and cradled his head and shoulders. DJ’s eyes focused on Sascha at the other end of the room. She held DJ’s left hand in hers. DJ watched as fatty flesh wiggled from the forearm to seal the bleeding gash at the elbow. DJ didn’t look down at what remained of his arm as he shrugged it into the flannel and jacket. It still hurt, but out of sight was out of mind. DJ just had to keep smiling. They were almost though.

“Sascha agreed to contact the group in one week, and Samantina led the trio away through a series of back corridors. Asa walked on DJ’s right side and wrapped his arm around DJ. Though DJ could have walked on his own, he was grateful. It was nice to have someone to lean on. Samantina locked eyes with DJ as they left the stadium, telling him “it was nice to meet you, Prophet.” It seemed to DJ like she was trying to communicate far more than she could say aloud. Samantina wasn’t just following Sascha’s orders. She had listened to the speech and believed in him. DJ nodded and smiled, giving a small wave with his left arm. The sleeve flopped back and forth. DJ giggled at the comical sight and told Samantina it was nice to meet her as well. She slipped back into the shadows as the three neonates stepped out into the snowy Christmas night.”