The Art of Darkness (Part 4)
A leap of faith.
When I awoke, my head pounded. I knew I was alive this time by the way my neck stung. As though I had just been attacked by a hive of wasps. Rising to a seat, while the pain was an issue, it was also a bittersweet reminder. He did it. I hurt, sure, but I was alive.
The surface under me was softer this time, the light more dim, only a small sliver of a beam through a rounded window toward the top of a vaulted ceiling. Even that was muted with the storm outside. There was a must in the air, stuffy and humid. The smell of a forgotten place. Cobwebs on the ceiling, a layer of dust on the bed posts, the wooden beams splintering. Aged, but gracefully.
The blankets laid around me sat thick and warm, causing a bit of a sweat in the fetid room. No rhythmic beeping here, just the pitter patter of the rain, and the song of an odd brave bird. Looking around, it struck me. I was alone. No Morvinus hunched by my bedside, no nurse to bramble at my door. Nothing.
Pushing myself from the bed, I felt the wooden floor creak beneath my feet as I made my way out of the dank room and down a dark hallway to a narrow staircase. The thunder rumbled. I found myself growing colder as I descended the stairs to the room below, almost to a shiver. And when my bare toes hit the tile on the bottom, it struck like shards of ice through my skin.
A set of double doors lay before me, and, as I stepped through them, I gasped. The ceiling towered above, an expansive arch lined with grey alabaster stone pillars and stained glass windows of many shapes and sizes on each wall. There was just enough natural light to cast across the dark wooden pews a multicolored glow, a haze amongst the flashes of lightning. A church. At the other end hung a figure of Christ on the cross, and a table lit with a hundred or so candles, the flames dancing daintily around their small red jars.
My eyes crossed each pew, yet no one to be found. Empty, making it seem colder still.
“Ah, Ms. Hollings!” a voice called from behind me. I turned to see a man, probably not much older than I, strolling up, a soft smile on his face, his blue eyes set behind a pair of thick framed glasses. He was a meager fellow, tall, but not awkwardly so. He wore long robes of black, a clerical collar around his neck, a modest wooden cross hung on his shoulders, sitting squarely at his chest. His dark hair was tidy, with the longer top layers swept aside, keeping their place.
“I’m very glad to see you up and about. How are you feeling?” He looked at me a moment.
“Where am I?” I asked, my voice raspy and hoarse.
“Oh, my apologies. Welcome to St. Joseph's. I’m sorry if I startled you, I am Father Andrews. May I get you anything? Water? Mrs. Barnette just made a pot of tea, I'd be happy to fetch some if you like.”
I put my hand up, shaking my head, and walked to the nearest pew, taking a seat, rubbing my aching neck. Father Andrews took a watchful eye, supplanting himself on the pew in front of me.
“Why am I here?”
“Well, when Mr. Andronov brought you in, bleeding and unconscious, I couldn't very well say no, could I?” He smiled. “I know it must seem strange for a priest and a vampire to call each other friends. If I were to be entirely truthful, I would probably think the same were I in your position.”
“I don't understand. He said before I came along he never met a human he left alive.”
“And that may very well still be the case. For I am not human.”
I hadn’t noticed it before, his papery white skin, his sunken eyes. Now that he said it, I couldn’t see anything else.
“You’re a vampire.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line, “indeed.”
There was a sadness in his eyes, as though he were ashamed of it. All I could do was stare. Apparently there was much I didn’t know about vampires.
“How did a vampire end up as a priest? Forgive me, Father, but that’s a bit contradictory don’t you think?”
He chuckled, “oh yes, believe me it was a hard pill to swallow myself. But, as I have learned, to ignore God's call is to tempt the devil himself. So,” he outstretched his hands, “here I am.”
“But, what do you do about…food? I assume you eat.” It still felt strange using the word, but anything else was too grim to say out loud.
“Oh yes.”
“Then, how do you–”
“How do I rectify it?”
I nodded.
“Well, it wasn't always easy. Before I became a priest, my attitude about humans was pretty much the same many of us have. ‘Humans are food and nothing more,’ as my father would say. Though, somehow, it never truly sat right with me. I tried living off animal blood. But, those hunger pains never truly go away. And the more I tried to suppress them, the stronger they became. And then I came across Mr. Andronov. He took me in as a young vampire, showed me that I shouldn't hide who I am. For the first time, I could call myself proud of what I was. He said it was in our nature, that it doesn't make us wrong. And I believed him, for a time.
Until one night. A few other coven members and I went hunting. It was supposed to be at our local tavern, a place we had always agreed upon. A place where hunting didn't always feel particularly terrible. But this time, they decided on somewhere new. A place, just off the main town square. There was a large festival happening that night, hundreds of people out celebrating. As there were too many witnesses in the square, we pushed down one of the alleyways. And then, a man and his family came around the corner–”
I could see the tears beginning to creep, the waver in his voice. I leaned forward, grasping his frozen hand.
“I did nothing. A man, a woman, and two innocent children, dead. And I did nothing. I didn't stop them, didn't cry out for help. Even with the woman's screams in my ear. When all was said and done, I was offered a turn at their blood. I couldn't do it, so I ran.”
“What did you do?”
“I hid away in the forest. For days, could have been weeks. I'm not sure. But I couldn't be around humans. I was terrified of what I may do.”
“How did you stay out of the sunlight? And what did you do for food?”
“Well, despite what you may have heard, Ms. Hollings, we vampires are not as vulnerable to sunlight as you think. We can withstand it, for a time. Too long, however, and we will become quite sick. No bursting into flames or anything, just ill. Away from the sunlight and with some fresh blood in our system, we can survive. I was lucky the forest top was thick so it filtered much of the direct light out.
As far as blood goes, I tried animals. There were plenty of deer and rabbits, and various critters. I didn't dare attempt a bear or a mountain lion. But, as the time went on, I only got more and more hungry. The animal blood was not sustaining me as I hoped. I became weak. So weak I could barely move. At one point I laid against the trunk of a tree, resigning myself to a death of starvation. I'm not certain how long I was there before I was discovered.
It was the smell I noticed first. You never forget the smell of blood. Even now, as it courses through your veins, the raw metallic essence calls to me. The sound followed. Fresh with adrenaline, her heartbeat ran high and loud. Even though I was weak, the very idea of a taste of blood, even a drop, was too much to ignore, even if I wanted to. When I saw her come around the tree, the black and white of her nun's habit flowing behind her, I found myself leaping before she even had a chance to speak. I’ll admit, her blood was some of the sweetest I had ever tasted. But when I looked down at her mangled body sprawled before me, I couldn't rectify what I had done. No matter my thirst, no matter my desperation, I had broken the promise I had made. So, I took a vow, then and there, to myself and to God, never to drain a human again.
I stumbled through the forest for several more days before Mr. Andronov found me. Again, I was weak. He brought me in, gave me blood from his stores, but I knew I couldn't stay. When I was strong enough to be out on my own, I came back to the monastery from which I had taken such precious a life and confessed my sins. My service, my life's repentance is to give back what I have stolen.”
“But, you still need blood, right? How do you get it if not from a human?”
He let out a heavy breath. “Mr. Andronov and I have an arrangement of sorts. I provide him the counsel he seeks, and in return, he brings me the blood I need to sustain myself.”
“Did he mention that he makes me take confession at least once a week, and I am not allowed to hunt within fifty kilometers of the church grounds?” Morvinus came around the corner, chuckling as he sat himself beside me on the pew.
Father Andrews smiled, “I can’t have you scaring off my parishioners now can I?”
Morvinus’ expression grew dim. “Father, may I have a moment alone with Ms. Hollings?”
“Of course,” he replied with a nod, “I’ll leave you two to catch up. Ms. Hollings, you are more than welcome to stay as long as you like and please, if you need anything, I am here. It was nice to finally meet you.”
As he strode away, I found myself in a strange place. For all my work, all my research, none of it seemed to matter much anymore.
“How are you feeling?” Morvinus asked.
“Honestly? I, uh– I don't know. Physically, other than the pain in my neck and ribs, I'm fine.”
“And otherwise?”
“It was all wrong. I was wrong.” I got up from the pew, walking around Morvinus back towards the double doors, pacing a hole in the floor. He stood, his eyes narrowing.
“Wrong about what?”
“About everything. My whole dissertation, my research. It was all based on assumptions and theories. And it's all wrong. God, I'm such a moron.” I could feel the well of tears beginning to pool.
Morvinus came to my side, planting a firm place in front of me, hands gripping my arms. “Amber, stop this.”
“The last twenty years I've spent looking for a man I don't even know, who apparently knows me, all my research, my career. All of it means nothing.”
He put an icy finger underneath my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“It does not amount to nothing. You have put more of an effort into understanding our kind than any I have encountered before. That alone is commendable. A bit rash perhaps, but courageous and passionate. And you do it all with a tenacity the likes of which I have never seen. Something I admire greatly in you.”
I stared at him through my puddled eyes, and, for a moment, I saw a glimpse. The same pain that ran through Father Andrews. It was small, subtle, well hidden, but it was there. And for the first time since our meeting, I found myself feeling something new. Not brought on by the parts that made him a vampire, but by those pieces of his humanity.
Before I could raise any objections, he pulled me to him, bringing his lips to mine in a kiss. Something of which neither of us were prepared to handle. For as he lingered, there was a turning of the tide. His arm tightened around me, pressing me against him, his hand snaking its way into the curve of my neck, that familiar warmth gradually spreading through his fingers. I was his. All his. And he knew it.
He walked me through the double doors and up against a wall in the well at the bottom of the staircase. We had been here before. Except the first time, he wouldn’t kiss me. I was beginning to understand why.
My breath was hard, my heart racing. This is how it started you know, my conscience warned. This is what he wants. And now, you won't be able to stop him. The voice faded as I felt his hand slip under the hem of my shirt, gliding across the bare skin of my back. He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down to my neck. I braced myself. Would he do it? Could I really trust him? Or would temptation be too great? I had a feeling we were about to find out.
Continued in Part 5
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Wait, the priest is a vampire? That was unexpected!
Father Andrew’s won’t be happy if he breaks the skin!