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The sun set on the day and Friar Essex emerged into
the night. He stretched, shut his eyes and raised his head to smell
for blood. The town was huddled into their homes, and only an
occasionally constable strolling along the deserted streets provided any indication
that the town was habited at all.
He smiled and his eyes lit up as the smell of fear
reached him. A child lay in her bed dreaming of creatures that roamed the
night in search of blood; creatures like himself. He loved the irony
of it, visiting in the flesh and forcing the dreams to become
reality. He shook his head, smiled and became a mist.
The fog rolled across the cold ground, inching
slowly above the crisp blades of grass. He worked his way towards
the frightened child, the vapor of his body rolling like a steam from a
pot of boiling water. He worked his way towards the child and used
his vaporous body to slip inside the child's room. He coalesced into
his human form and stood staring at the sleeping girl.
The child's
blond hair spread out in angelically, looking like a halo. Her face
was twisted in fear as the creature of her dreams chased her; hunted her
with malice. Friar Essex smiled at the picture her sleeping face
portrayed, enjoying the emotions of terror and pain that flashed behind
her twitching eyes.
He stepped forward and knelt by her be.
Running his fingers across her bare forehead he whispered, "so
young."
The little girl stirred in her sleep. The
creature in her mind transformed from a nameless, faceless entity to a
vampire with bared teeth and fangs dripping blood. Friar Essex
forced his face onto the creature that was hunting her and he fed on her
climbing terror. In her dreams she was running from him and that
thought spurred his delight. He forced his will into her mind and
soon the little girl found herself running in a deserted warehouse.
The building she was in was huge and deserted.
Pipes leading nowhere cast eerie shadows across the floor. Litter
was strewn everywhere, the broken glass of discarded wine bottles, ashes
of long burnt out fires stained the dirty ground. Her footfalls
echoed like a heartbeat, punctuation her terror with each hurried
step. Run, her mind screamed, he is close. Run, run, run, over
and over her mind screamed, each word pounded into the floor with the thud
of her naked foot.
In her dreams
the little girl fell to the hard ground, skinning her palms, the flesh
ripping away painfully. She began to cry and in her bed small tears
poured slowly from her closed eyes. She hissed painfully in her
world of dreams as she climbed back to her feet to continue running from
the creature that wanted her to die. Yes, her brain screamed in
dreams, run, run of die.
Friar Essex positioned himself in her path and
smiled when she ran into him. She screamed in terror and sat upright
in bed, scaring herself awake. With her eyes opened she stared at
the face of the man that had been hunting her in her dreams. She
screamed again, a shrill sound of desolation and terror. Her voice
strained with the sounds of her terror.
"So young," he whispered, hearing her
heart pound in her chest. "Don't move, child," he
whispered and grinned when her body went taut.
The door to her room slammed open and the girl's
father burst into the room, his fists raised in defense. Behind him
the young girl's mother appeared, her face a rictus of concern.
Friar Essex could smell their fear and he smiled in delight.
"Behind you," Friar Essex said, "she's behind you!"
In a rage he
turned and attacked his wife, seeing her as his daughter's attacker, his
fists hammering into her face. He threw his body onto hers and
knocked her to the ground. Her scream pierced the quiet air as she fell
heavily to the ground. Kneeling on her body he continued to pummel
her face with his fists. Blood stained his knuckles as his fists cut
her face. Her skin peeled back as her broken teeth cut through her
swollen cheek.
She fought back weakly, her fist impotently pounding
into her chest. She was screaming in rage and pain and tears poured
from her eyes. Her head rocked under the force of her husband's
blows and she could see white stars dancing above her head. The
blows continued to rain onto her helpless face. Her vision blurred
and her teeth bit through her tongue, severing the tip painfully.
Blood poured from her mouth and still the hammering fists fell.
The little girl was screaming at her father to stop,
only her mouth free to move, but the only words that reached her father's
ears was, "make her stop, daddy. Please, make her stop!"
She cried at the words and at the battered face of
her mother. She did not know where the words came from but they hurt
and frightened her. She watched in numb terror as her father
bloodied her mother's face until she mercifully blacked out. Her
mother stopped moving and still her father continued to beat her face.
Friar Essex
continued to watch in muted glee as the little girl's father beat the
defenseless woman. He smiled when he heard the sound of her jaw
break and nearly doubled over in laughter when she finally died.
With the mother dead Friar Essex whispered, "don't move," and
immediately the enraged man became frozen, his fists still curled in rage
his eyes locked on the open and bleeding orbs of his dead wife.
Friar Essex said, "stand and turn around."
The tall man with his hair matted with blood and
sweat climbed to his feet and turned around, nearly tripping over the body
that lay lifeless at his feet.
"Very good, Thomas," Friar Essex said,
reading the man's name from his dazed mind. "Now watch as I
kill your daughter." He turned to the little girl with the
golden hair and tear-filled eyes, "come here, little one."
He smiled a warm smile of feigned innocence and compassion.
Guided by Friar
Essex's thoughts the gentle girl climbed from her bed. Her sleep
shirt was soaked with fear induced sweat and it clung to her small
body. She crawled across the bed and stepped onto the cold
floor. Inch by inch she spColletted the distance between her and the
creature of her nightmares, coming to rest standing in front of Friar
Essex.
"Look up," he said softly, the words
sounding as if he cared for her.
The little girl raised her head and looked at the
ceiling; baring her neck to the vampire.
Friar Essex lunged out with his hand; his talon-like
finger nail slitting her throat and spilling her blood. She gasped
once, her hands flew to her throat and her mouth opened to scream.
With her throat opened to the air no sounds issued from her mouth. She
fell to her knees and collapsed into a lifeless heap, her blood spilling
into an ever-growing pool.
No! the little girl's father screamed in his
mind.
The little girl,
her face frozen in the same look of terror seemed to stare up at Friar
Essex from her prone position on the blood red ground. Friar Essex
looked down at her dead body and casually stepped towards her
father. "That was fun," he said to the immobile man crying
tears of impotent rage and growing remorse.
Friar Essex bared his fangs. He stepped forward and
bending his head he bit the taut neck of the man. His teeth
penetrated the man's neck, striking through the flesh and into the
throbbing vein underneath. Friar Essex pulled the blood into his
mouth until the man died, his body robbed of the blood that sustained
it.
Friar Essex looked at the three bodies lying
lifeless on the floor of the small home and grinned. He felt
stronger now that he had fed. He raised his head, looked east and
whispered, "I can feel you. I am so close. You know
that though, don't you? Yes, you do. You knew I was coming a
long time ago. Well, so much the better," he concluded, "a
much more enjoyable fight." He knew that the vampire that
he was hunting heard him and he enjoyed the taunting words he had just
spoken. Yes, he realized, she knew he was coming.
He
stepped past the dead man lying at his feet and walked towards the front
door of the small home. He opened the door and with the muted light
spilling into the cobblestone street he cawed and became a raven. He
spread his black wings and took flight, heading southeast towards his
hatred incarnate; towards Collette.
Her name tasted bitter on his tongue and he cawed to
rid his mouth of it. The sound sailed through the still night air as
he flew. He knew that a few people had heard his cry of distaste and
he pondered briefly is he should silent their tongues by visiting them as
he had the little girl and her family. No, he decided, they would
think nothing of it; just a bird crying in the night.
He flew through the night and when the sun was
peaking up from the east he saw the village he had been seeking. She
was close, he could feel her presence stronger than he had in a
century. She was here, in this town, or very near. He would
ask around, would gain their trust as a man of the cloth. He flew
over the steeple of the church that sat in the middle of the town.
Next to it was a civic building where the townsfolk met to conduct their
business. He swooped down and materialized into his human form next
to the church.
Smiling, he walked inside.
"Hello, my
son," a tall, lanky man wearing a black coat with the white collar of
the clergy greeted Friar Essex, "how may I help
you."
"You can die for me," Friar Essex said in
reply.
The priest paused, began to speak, stammered an
unintelligible sound and then tried again, "the Lord has already done
that for you, my son. But you know that as a man of the
cloth." He paused, "but you're not a man of the cloth, are
you? No," he answered his own question, no you are not.
You are something more, something..." he trailed off.
Friar Essex grinned, baring his fanged teeth.
"Yes," he replied, "I am so much more than you. I am
more than you will ever be. Now, die for me." He lunged
at the priest standing before him.
His speed amazed the shocked priest, and the last
thought that passed through the priests mind as his life faded from his
body was that the town was in trouble. Friar Essex could only laugh
at the thought.
Friar Essex
picked up the body of the dead preacher and carried it to the door of the
church. He scColletted the town through the shut door and finding that
no wandering eyes were about he opened the door, dragging the corpse
behind him. He leapt into the night sky, carrying the body with him
and floated on a mist two hundred yards above the ground.
Friar Essex carted the body on a mist away from town
and dumped it in the large body of water he found to the west. The
body floated on the waves, bobbing lifelessly in the cold sea spray.
"Come," he called to the creatures of the deep,
"feed. Come my children, savor the meal I have brought
you."
Beneath him two sharks appeared, their fins circling
the corpse floating on the waves. "Yes, feed," Friar Essex
whispered, sending his words into their small minds. The sharks
attacked, ripping the body apart. There was little blood, most
having been devoured by Friar Essex, but the sharks fed on the flesh of
the priest. They ate savagely, ripping the lifeless limbs from the
still-warm corpse.
"Thank you my pets," Friar Essex said two
the now sated sharks. "I hope you have fed
well."
He returned to
the church, smiling at his victory. The first step in the defeat of
that witch was complete; he was here. He could feel her very essence
in this town, she was close, very close. He locked the door of the
church and began walking through the church, examining his new home.
There were twelve pews on each side of a long
aisle. At the end of the red-carpeted walkway two steps led up to a
large podium that overlooking the pews from a slightly elevated
position. Friar Essex could see each of the empty seats and knew
that he would be able to conduct a faux sermon while scanning the thoughts
of the gullible parishioners that worshipped their imaginary
God.
He would show them who their new God was. When
the woman was defeated, her body decaying in the town square, he would
humble the towns people, force them into carnality and debauchery and
despair that they would pray to their God and when He did not answer he
would gloat and fuel their desperation with his thoughts. The town
would pay for harboring the creature he hunted. They will pay with
their lives after they watch their children die, he promised
himself.
Behind him a
door led deeper into the church. He opened in and followed a short
hallway. A single bedroom was on his left containing a single unmade
bed and a nightstand with a picture of Christ resting on it in a gold
frame. Against the far wall a small dresser sat, the four drawers
closed to his gaze.
He entered the room and picked up the picture of
Christ. He looked at is, smiled a grin of contempt and instantly the
picture burst into flame. The flames spread out from the center of
the picture. They tasted the frame and finding the flavor to their
liking they consumed the frame, burning it into oblivion. Friar
Essex dropped the flaming picture to the hard ground and stamped out the
fire; the picture now nothing but ash.
He left the bedroom and crossed the hall into a
small combination kitchen/dining room. A single sink sat in the
center of two short counters. There was a dirty cup in the sink with
a lone teabag floating in some stale brown water. A tiny table with
two chairs rested in the corner awaiting use, finding none. He
opened the small brown refrigerator to see some milk, cheese, and thinly
sliced meat. There was a large bottle of water keeping cool as well
as some eggs and a few condiments. Sparse, Friar Essex thought,
shutting the refrigerator.
Leaving the
kitchen he returned to the hallway and turned left to the last two doors
closed to his gaze. The first opened onto single bed that sat
there for a visitor or guest. It was a sanctuary of sorts, used when
a lost soul came to the church for salvation or to hide away. There
are a lot of lost souls in this town, he thought with a wry chuckle, all
of them.
He left the spare bedroom and opened the final
door. It was a bathroom, as sparsely decorated as the rest of the
rooms beyond the church proper. The church was as unimpressive as he
had ever encountered. He recalled the cathedral that he had been
trapped in, its stone walls ending in the parapets and gargoyles that
hinted at the glamour within. Compared to that cathedral, this
church was a hovel. Still, it would serve his purposes and the town would
serve him.
Friar Essex left the bathroom and walked back into
the church. He stood at the dais that overlooked the pews and
smiled. Two days hence the town would appear and find that their
priest had been replaced. The sermon he would give would motivate
them into his cause. He would read their minds, guide their
thoughts, and kill the few that would not be swayed to his
cause.
And sneering into the room he said, "vengeance
shall be mine."
He walked
through the church and outside into the dark night. He shut his eyes
and slowly rotated in a circle, spinning around on his feet. He
reached out with his mind, searching for his enemy, the creature that
hunted his thoughts and spurred his anger. He could feel her, she
was close, he could almost smell her. The feel of her was all around
and he realized that if he could feel her so easily than she was indeed
more powerful than he remembered.
I will need help, he realized, sensing her
strength. She is formidable but defeatable. I will destroy
her. Grinning he thought, but a little help wouldn't hurt.
"Come," he whispered, holding his hand aloft.
Immediately six crows appeared and swooped down,
landing on his outstretched arm. "My children," he
whispered to them in the darkness, "find her. Find her for
me."
He dropped his arms and the six birds flew off into
the night. They climbed into the sky, circled the church in a
display of solidarity and understanding, and flew off in different
directions. "Report back to me when you find her," he
whispered. He walked back into the church, propping the door opened
slightly to allow the crows entry when they returned.
Soon, he thought. Very, very soon.
He sat in the
pew closest to the pulpit to await his spies return. He could feel
the creature that haunted his dreams and could barely contain
himself. He wanted to tear through the town, torturing everyone for
her whereabouts. But he contained himself, knowing he would need
help from the townsfolk. He would wait.
The first of the crows returned and reported that it
had not found her. One down, five to go. A caw from the rear
of the church caused him to smile. "You found her," he
grinned, standing from the pew, "you found her my pet, didn't
you?"
The crow cawed in assent.
"Show me."
Friar Essex crawled into the crow's mind. The
bird flew away from the church, heading east. It flew along the
coast and then turned north. Friar Essex saw through the crow's eyes
as a large castle appeared. It was huge and regal and immediately he
knew that the vampire that had haunted him for centuries was only miles
away. Close, he thought, removing his mind from the crow's, so very
close.
He shut the door of the church and headed to the
dead priests bed. Tomorrow, he thought, my vengeance begins.
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