March 1865, Richmond, Virginia

“You can’t make that deal, I am the eldest!”

“I can if you won’t do it – and don’t think you’re going to change anything,” he said. “Mr. Davis, we have an arrangement.”

Jefferson Davis surveyed both men, finding them both wanting, but there wasn’t much to be done.  Lee had failed them.  He knew that there was surrender in the air and a backup plan was necessary to ensure survival.  Not just of the South.  It wasn’t for them anyway.  No, the fate of a different people was in the hands of the man before him.

It would be decided tonight.  It would be decided in Jefferson’s favor.  There was no doubt of that.  He had two choices in front of him – they didn’t know it yet, but one had already said yes in his heart.

Jefferson knew.  The words were important now.

“I said you can’t make that deal!”

“Shut up, Edwin.”  John spoke to his brother for the first time.  There was a distain in the way the men held each other.  Both had been uncomfortable at first, but John appeared to be the reasonable one.  Once he knew that facts that is.

“Yes, do shut up Edwin.”  Jefferson gestured and his men removed the elder Booth from the room.  Now that he was being excluded the man simply struggled to stay in place.

“Please John…” and the door clicked shut.

Jefferson paused until the room was silent again.  There was no movement in the air again until he spoke.  “You have promised your bloodline to me.”

“As a gentleman, it is my honor to serve your cause.”  

Very theatrical.  Jefferson hated the theatre, but it had its uses.  The man before him was proof of that.  He had smuggled medicine and other supplies while ‘performing’ in the areas where the armies had fought and died.  He was more suggestible then his brother, and better still, he was expendable.

“Have a drink.  Then put out your wrist.”

Booth swallowed eagerly.  The water was the easy part.  John probably thought it was wine and there was no reason for Jefferson to disabuse him of that notion.  Once that was done, he put a shaky wrist to Jefferson’s lips.  He may have sworn on his honor and still not known the consequence.  The veins would throb until Davis could see the beat and flow.  There was an art and a science to this.  It had to be done just right.

He punctured Booth.  It wasn’t a seamless bleed and the man squirmed.  The process had begun.

“You are now infected.  You have one approximately month to complete your task.  At the end of that time, I will find you and complete the process. ”

“Approximately?”

“The infection may spread fast or slow, it depends on if you are a suitable candidate.  If you’re not, you may just die.”

“And Edwin?”  

“We’ll keep him for a day or so as a guest.  Then he can go.  What good is your bloodline if it stops with you?  Of course there is India.”  The unspoken threat to Booth’s sister was left hanging.

“I have your word?  You’ll leave them to their lives.”

“Don’t insult me.  You have no choice.  Yes.  Their lifespan will remain unchanged, at least by me.”  Jefferson guided Booth to the door.  He opened the door and let Booth out of his office.  

Their eyes met and a shudder passed through the weaker man.  Jefferson nodded to the guards outside the door as a signal to let this one past.  As one body, the men rose as a unit waiting for the completion of this task.

Booth felt his lips move and in time with Jefferson, he found himself mouthing the words in unison with the rest of the room:

“The South shall rise again.”

April 15, 1865 – Washington, DC

Booth had originally planned a kidnapping.  If he took the president back to Mr. Davis, he might be able to exchange the man for the security of his family and perhaps a reward.  If what Davis had said was true, it didn’t matter what happened to Lincoln.  He wasn’t a man at all.  Jefferson had sworn that the man leading his great country was a creature of darkness.  That Lincoln could assume the demonic form of a hound of hell.

His plan had not been followed through.  Changes in the president’s schedule caused a bloodless capture to be impossible.  Now there was nothing for it but to kill the man.  Booth stood outside the theatre box rubbing his sore hand.

In the event of a necessary kill, he had been given a gun with bullets of silver.  Holding the object hurt his hand – the same hand Mr. Davis had bitten almost a month ago.  There wasn’t much time left if Booth wanted to obtain the immortality that was promised him.

The president wasn’t alone in the box.  There was his wife, Mary Todd, a Major and another young lady.  It would have been easier if the man had been alone.  This was probably as alone as he would ever get.

“Mr. Booth, can I help you?”  One of the guards recognized him.  It was nice to be noticed as an actor, but tonight it was probably better not to be.

“I’d like to get a word with the President, if that is alright.  Invite him to one of my productions.  It would be an honor to get him in my audience.”  Booth almost choked on the words.  He had practiced them and hoped that the guard wouldn’t ask him anything else.  Lying was a part of acting, but he wasn’t in character right now.

“We can let you in, but you might want to wait until after the performance.”

    “I really do have an appointment later, sirs; it would only take a moment.”

They sized him up and decided he was harmless.  The glint in his eye was the eagerness of meeting a great man.  Deciding he could do no harm, they let him past and he slipped into the box.

None of the party turned at his entrance.  He had managed to keep the light out in the hall.  His eyes adjusted to the dark and he felt for his gun.  He had enough shot to kill each person there – but what would the point be?  They had been duped just like him.

Duped into letting something that wasn’t even a man into the highest position of power in the world.  Jefferson was right.  This monster had to be eliminated.  Booth raised the pistol and fired.  The sound wasn’t heard right away by anyone except those in the box.  He had timed the shot to match action with the play.

As Mary Todd screamed, he found himself jumping over the balcony and to the stage below.  He raised his voice above her shrieking cries for help.  

Another’s voice welled up inside him and he managed a strangled cry of “Sic Semper Viralupis!”  He ran for the door ignoring the damage to his leg.  Another spirit possessed him and that spirit told him to RUN!