“Who told you that?”I took a careful step forward.“Was it Father O’Malley?Did he write it in his letter?”
“Father O’Malley?”Father John shook his head.“No, his letter said nothing of your...nature.He spoke only of your character, your faithfulness.He called you exemplary Christians despite your ‘trials.’”The young priest shook his head.“I might have believed him, might have continued his midnight Masses in ignorance, but for providence.”
“Providence?”Desiderius cocked an eyebrow.
“I will betray no one’s confidence to you,” Father John continued, his chin lifting with newfound conviction.“Do you really think no one in the parish knew the truth apart from Father O’Malley?”
My mind raced through the possibilities.I suspected that over a year’s time our nocturnal behavior might have appeared suspicious to more than a few.All it took was a single member who knew something of vampires and our existence to put the pieces together.Not that it mattered now.The damage was done.
“You believed them?”I pressed.“A single person’s testimony against Father O’Malley’s endorsement—“
“I have eyes of my own!”Father John’s voice cracked with the force of his words.“Look at you!Pale as corpses, standing still as statues.You don’t breathe unless you remember to.Your skin carries no warmth—I can feel the cold radiating from you even at this distance.”He swallowed hard.“I studied at seminary.I know the old stories, the warnings.I thought them merely medieval superstition, but now...”
“Now you see we’re real,” Ruth interjected.“Congratulations, Father.You’re a regular gumshoe.You solved the mystery.”
“Ruth—“ She didn’t let me get more than her name out before she continued her tirade.
“What else did your seminary teach you?That we’re demons?Soulless monsters?”She laughed, the sound harsh as breaking glass.“Then how do you explain our presence here?Our desire for the Eucharist?”
Father John’s jaw worked silently for a moment before he found his voice.“I...I cannot explain it.But neither can I ignore what you are.The Church has procedures, protocols.I cannot simply dispense the Body and Blood of Christ to...to...”
“To what?”I stepped closer to the rail, close enough now that he could see the absence of life in my eyes, the stillness of my chest.“To the faithful?To those who hunger for grace?Father O’Malley saw past what we are to who we are.”
“Father O’Malley may have been deceived,” Father John said, though uncertainty crept into his tone.“Or perhaps his illness affected his judgment.The bishop must decide this matter.”
The Bishop.“ The word caught in my throat.I wanted to rage against this delay, yet some faithful part of me still respected the authority he represented.My hands trembled—was it hunger or reverence?“And how long will that take?”
“I’ve already written to him.A few days, perhaps a week.”
I sighed in relief.One week wasn’t the end of the world.But then Father John spoke again.
“It won’t take him long to receive my request.How long it will take him to reach a decision, I cannot say.I cannot imagine it will be more than a few months.”
A few months?Even now, after only one day without the Eucharist, I felt the hunger beginning to stir—not yet the overwhelming compulsion it would become, but it was there.In a week’s time, it might be difficult to resist.A few months from now, well, we’d be the monsters the priest feared we were already.
“Father,” I tried once more, allowing desperation to color my voice.“You don’t understand what you’re condemning us to.Without the Sacrament, we—“
“You what?”He leaned forward slightly, curiosity momentarily overcoming fear.“What happens without it?”
How could I explain?That the consecrated Host was the only thing that quieted the monster within?That without it, the hunger would grow until it consumed whatever humanity remained?That he might be signing the death warrant of innocents who would cross our path when control finally shattered?
“We suffer,” I said simply.“Terribly.”
“Suffering is not unique to your kind,” Father John replied, though I caught a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.“All Christians must bear their crosses.If you truly are devout, as Father O’Malley said, you’ll find the strength to persevere.”
“This is different—“ Rebecca began, but her words dissolved into a soft moan.She pressed her hands against her stomach, doubling over slightly.The hunger was affecting her already, the youngest and least controlled among us.
Father John watched her distress with a mixture of horror and something that might have been compassion.He wasn’t an evil man, he was just doing what he thought was right.What he didn’t understand was the realdangerit might mean—not just for us, but to everyone in Exeter.“I’m sorry,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.“But I cannot—will not—risk sacrilege.The Bishop must decide if creatures such as yourselves can receive the Sacrament.Until then...”He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness that fooled no one.
“Then we’re banished,” I stated.Not asked—stated.The verdict had been rendered before we’d even arrived.
“Not banished.Merely...waiting.”
“You do not understand, Father.This isn’t just about our receiving the Sacrament.If our… appetites take over, there won’t be a living and breathing human within a hundred miles’ radius who is safe.We don’t want to become monsters, Father!”
The priest’s eyes flickered from Rebecca’s hunched form to the crucifix above the altar.His shoulders, rigid as iron moments before, dropped a fraction of an inch.He ran his thumb along the edge of his prayer book, the leather worn smooth from similar gestures.“Seven days,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.“Come after Vespers next Thursday.I can’t promise Bishop Harkins will have responded, but...”He glanced at Rebecca again, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.“I’ll emphasize the urgency of the matter.Even if he doesn’t make a final decision, perhaps I can receive a temporary dispensation.”
A week.Seven nights of growing hunger.Seven nights of fighting the creature I was by nature.It wasn’t an insurmountable amount of time, but the priest couldn’t guarantee he’d receive a favorable reply, either.
