* * *
Harlow finishedup with the zip ties, sitting the men near the broken but shut door, with their feet and wrists bound. Standing there, arms crossed, he waited. Despite supposedly being faster than some ‘old man’, the vampire was sure taking his dear old fucking time.
He eyed the clock on the wall, frowning. It had been almost twenty minutes. It had taken them five to walk there. Where the fuck was Foxx? Was the vampire just sitting in the car out there waiting for him?
Shaking his head, he walked around the other humans and opened the door. Harlow frowned at the big fat nothing he found. No Jeep, no Foxx. Something…was off… Oddly, his heart started to beat a little faster.
With narrowed eyes, he glanced down at the men. They began to shift on the floor nervously under his intense gaze, eyes avoiding his.
“Don’t move,” Harlow growled. “If you try to escape, I will shoot you. Is that clear?”
They nodded.
With one last glare, he walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
Skipping towards the car, what was a blissfully quiet night one minute became a hellscape the next. It started with one.
A heartbeat sparked to life in front of him. The man it belonged to appeared seconds later out of thin air.
Foxx hissed, sliding to a stop at the sight of the priest in full garb, standing there with his cross drawn. His own heartbeat started to race involuntarily, even as he tried to remain calm.
“It is time you found salvation, my son. Time you came home to God,” the man said, head held high. “Because salvation is at hand. You may not think it is what you want or need, but it is here regardless. It has come for you, and will be given whether you accept it or not.”
“Your God is not my home,” Foxx said stiffly, glaring. “And your salvation is my death, so I think I’ll pass.”
Foxx, so close to grasping hold of the nothingness that came with compartmentalizing his trauma, lost all hope as close to a hundred heartbeats flared up around him. Those they belonged to emerged from the woods, just as the first priest had done.
Foxx let out a guttural hiss when the priests converged, crosses clutched in their hands, words of prayer spilling from their lips. The words were just a tingling sting against his skin at first. But it wasn’t long before they became a full bone crushing ache. It was as if his insides were under intense pressure, his very breath being sucked from him.
The worst part was, it wasn’t the pain stopping him from defending himself, it was the fear. One priest was nothing, but this horde had the scene before him flicking between this present nightmare and that hidden secret patch of beach hundreds of years ago. That fear rooted him in place, kept him unmoving as they drew closer and closer, the pain growing.
And when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, a prayer rang up above the others, one he had heard repeated at him over and over again. Foxx choked, clawing at his own throat as his very breath was stolen from him. He fell to his knees. Tears pooling in his eyes. The memories, the feelings, all chains dragging him back to hell.
Weak, he was so weak, the words floated through his mind. When had he fallen so far? When had he let these memories, these mere memories, strangle and crush his courage, his will to fight?
NO!He was stronger than this!
That voice of his own, tiny at first, became a roar, growing as his anger did. With each second, more and more of his energy left him. The pain was growing, but his fear was receding, being replaced by rage. His rage towards these ‘holy’ men, towards the audacity they had to come for him, but mostly towards himself, for daring to fall to his knees before them. These men, just like all the rest of their kind throughout history, used their hatred and religion to justify the atrocities they committed. They were no one to be bowed to.
As shiny black snow covered shoes stepped into his line of sight, he let out an enraged hiss, and slashed out with his hand. His claws grew out right before he connected.
The priest who dared to speak those words of ‘salvation’ to him screamed in horror, as his body fell to the ground pieces. With his legs severed, the stumps continued moving in the snow. Blood sprayed the ground, turning it from white to red. The others cried out, shouting as Foxx jumped forward to attack.
Fuck the memories, fuck the pain, fuck his past. He was stronger than it all. He would be stronger than it all! It was only memories! That’s all it was! It was not his reality, and it never would be again. Foxx was not a new vampire anymore. He was not easy to defeat, and if they wanted him, then by the Goddess, they’d better be damn well ready to die for it.
Slicing through two more men, their cries echoed around the woods. Foxx hissed, flashing his fangs as the priests scattered backward, startled into silence. “What? You wanted to save me, right? Come here!” he said with a sadistic, taunting laugh. “Save me! Save me from damnation! It’s what you came here for, isn’t it? Do it! Do it, you cowards! I dare you!”
There was a lull. They stared at him, hesitant to get closer as some of their people lay dying and bleeding out on the ground…but then the prayers returned and weapons were drawn.
Foxx couldn’t help but roll his eyes as swords and literal wooden stakes came out. They couldn’t be fucking serious.
The prayers beat down at him, but still, he fought, doing his best to dodge attacks as his body weakened. Rushing towards a priest, Foxx didn’t so much as flinch at the horrified scream as he shoved his claws into the man’s stomach. Twisting his hands, he yanked them free. The guy dropped, trying to pick up his intestines and other organs as they spilled out. Foxx didn’t linger. Moving quickly on to the next. His goal was to take out as many as he could, in as painful a way as possible. He couldn’t win. The thought was clear in his head.
Too much time had been wasted at the start… Too much energy had been stolen from him as he had knelt there, lost in his nightmares. All he could do now was make sure he didn’t go down easy.
Slicing through another man, he let out an ear-piercing scream when liquid splashed against his back. The burning started at his neck, but spread quickly down as the water seeped beneath his clothing and soaked through his many layers.
He spun, his vision swimming, while the holy water continued to drip down his body, leaving trails of fire in its wake.Ah, fuck, Foxx thought. It looked like he wouldn’t be taking out too many more.
