Subjects.Not soldiers.Not even people.The word sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the crypt’s natural coldness.
“The Bladewell woman continues to emphasize spiritual restraint,” Gallow continued, voice dropping lower.“It impedes their combat effectiveness.I recommend gradual limitation of her influence.”
I withdrew before he could detect my presence, thoughts churning with this new threat.While we prepared to face German forces, it seemed our greatest enemy might be within our own ranks.
Dawn crept through the abbey’s shattered windows, illuminating our night’s labor.Military maps and field telephones now cluttered the refectory’s weathered stone tables where monks once broke bread in silence.The chapter house—once reserved for spiritual governance—had become our medical station, with neat rows of bandages and carefully labeled blood rations.Machine guns rested in alcoves that once held saints, while electric cables wound between flagstones worn smooth by centuries of devotional pacing.
In the underground chambers, my flock had established its daytime sanctuary.The cells where monks had once slept now housed silver-lined coffin-like structures—not from superstition, but practical necessity.The silver would contain any vampire who lost control while the others slept, a precaution against the bloodlust that might overwhelm one of us during daylight torpor.
Dawn’s gray fingers crept through the abbey’s shattered roof, touching the gold-lined chalice on the altar where I kept vigil.All around me, the ancient stones whispered of prayers interrupted as typewriters clacked and boots echoed through corridors once walked by silent monks.The war machine had swallowed our sanctuary, leaving only this small island of devotion amid a rising tide of military necessity.
As I knelt before the altar, I wondered what the monks who had built this place would think of our presence here.Would they see us as the demons the Germans named us, or as souls striving for redemption despite our fallen nature?The question remained unanswered as the rising sun forced me to retreat to the darkness below, leaving the damaged sanctuary to the light from which we were forever barred.
Chapter 21
Wheremonkshadoncebroken bread in contemplative silence, military maps now sprawled across oak tables, their corners weighted down by spent shell casings as officers argued strategy and marked troop movements with sharp, decisive strokes of graphite.The room’s vaulted ceiling had partially collapsed, allowing shafts of late afternoon sunlight to penetrate the gloom, forcing me to stand in the shadowed portions while Mercer paced freely through the dappled light, his immunity to daylight hours—a benefit of whatever bargain he’d struck with the military years ago—giving him yet another advantage in our ongoing dispute.I pointed to the map of German positions spread before us, my finger tracing the treacherous terrain that separated our lines from theirs.
“This sector alone contains three machine gun nests,” I said, tapping locations marked with red flags.“Not to mention artillery placements.We need time to acclimate to the front lines, to understand the patterns of German patrols before attempting any major operations.”
Mercer’s boot crunched on debris as he moved to the opposite side of the table.“Every day we wait gives them time to develop countermeasures,” he countered.“The German High Command already suspects something unnatural is operating in this sector.Their uncertainty is our advantage—one that diminishes with each passing night.”
“And what good is that advantage if our flock is decimated in its first engagement?”I challenged.“Thomas can barely control his hunger when presented with a minor injury.Rebecca still trembles when recounting our submarine mission.Despite a decade’s worth of progress, Ruth’s enthusiasm now borders on bloodlust.Rushing in blindly will only expose vulnerabilities that could destroy everything we’ve built.”
“Built?”Mercer laughed without humor.“You’ve built nothing but a prison of restraint, Alice.These vampires possess abilities that could turn the tide of this war, yet you would have them creep about like penitents, afraid of their own shadows.”
His words struck a nerve I hadn’t realized was so exposed.“Is that what you believe?That my guidance has weakened them rather than strengthened them?”
“I believe your priorities are misplaced,” he replied, leaning over the map, his hands splayed across German territory like a conqueror claiming dominion.“This war presents an unprecedented opportunity for our kind—one we may never see again in our lifetimes.”
“An opportunity for what, exactly?”I asked, though some part of me already knew the answer.
Mercer straightened, his ancient eyes holding mine across the table.The afternoon light caught his profile, illuminating the perfect stillness with which he held himself—a predator momentarily at rest.“Recognition.Acceptance.The chance to prove our worth not as monsters to be feared or pitied souls to be saved, but as valuable citizens deserving of rights and protections.”
The truth of his motivation crystallized between us, sharp and undeniable.“Military service in exchange for citizenship,” I said softly.“That’s what Gantry promised you, isn’t it?Not just for this war, but for your decades of service before it.”
“Why should we exist in the shadows?”Mercer demanded, passion finally breaking through his controlled exterior.“Why should we beg for scraps of tolerance when we could earn respect through service?This is our chance to prove our worth.Military service could earn us recognition as citizens rather than monsters.”
I shook my head, unable to mask the coldness in my voice.“Redemption comes through faith, not government approval.Do you truly believe the same authorities that would use us as weapons wouldn’t discard us once our usefulness ends?Or worse, study us to create more effective means of destruction?”
Mercer’s jaw tightened.“Better to be studied as valuable assets than hunted as abominations.”
“If you believe that, you understand neither governments nor redemption,” I replied.
The tension between us had drawn the attention of others in the refectory.Desiderius approached from where he had been studying supply manifests, his steps deliberate, his expression carefully neutral.
“Perhaps there is a middle path,” he suggested.“Lieutenant Dupont mentioned a British patrol trapped behind German lines in Sector Four.Twelve men, cut off during the last advance, sheltered in an abandoned farmhouse.Too risky for a conventional rescue mission.”
Mercer’s interest visibly piqued.“A limited operation,” he mused.“Minimal engagement with enemy forces, maximum demonstration of our capabilities.”
“A practical test of our flock’s readiness,” Desiderius added, glancing toward me.“Without committing to a full offensive operation.”
I studied the map where Desiderius indicated.The farmhouse lay in a shallow valley, surrounded by German positions but not directly occupied—likely deemed too exposed to hold.The patrol had been trapped there for three days, according to the notes beside their position marker.They would be low on supplies, possibly wounded.
“A rescue mission would align with our purpose,” I conceded reluctantly.“Saving lives rather than taking them.”
Mercer scratched the back of his head.“This is not what the General had in mind.His communication implied a full-scale assault on an enemy asset.”
I nodded.“That might be true.But that’s not a viable option.This mission would demonstrate compliance with the requirement for immediate action, and barring specific directives toward a target, it exhibits our desire to leverage our temporary advantage.”
