More and more priests filtered into the church. Behind them, the other hunters who had entered the monastery grounds through other buildings. Leaving at least two dozen priests caught in the trap they had set.
Tony pushed to the front of the crowd of hunters and came to stand next to Harlow. The man was holding up a piece of paper. “Permission signed by the governor that overrules whatever bullshit rights you have as a religious organization. We know there are individuals here who are involved in the disappearances and deaths of at least a dozen vampires in this area. Just tonight, one of our own was captured. You will tell us what you know, one way or another.”
“Preposterous!” the leader snapped. “We are men of God! We would never fall so low as to take the lives of others. Even beings as unholy as vampires.”
There was a murmur of agreement through the crowd.
Tony scoffed. “Welp, that’s the extent I’m going to argue with you. Go ahead, Harlow.” The man waved him on. “I’m sure you are dying to jump into action.”
Harlow smirked. “If you refuse to talk, we will make you talk. But, no worries. If you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.” Turning to the wolf next to him, he said, “Tell your men to grab the ones they know are involved.”
Santiago nodded.
The priests started to protest as the wolves jumped into action, yanking men out of their group. For all the outrage and grumbles, none fought back, not even the head priest, who was seized by the redheaded werewolf, who’d been one of the two by Santiago’s side the night they met.
Harlow wasn’t surprised that none of them fought, or seemed worried, even as they were grabbed. The public really liked to ignore what hunters legally were allowed to do. Probably because they figured most of the methods would just be used on paranormals anyway. How wrong they were.
He stared at the ten priests that the wolves had gathered together, before focusing on the older man. “Bring along Father Time here, and let’s find a nice, quiet office, shall we?”
The werewolf who was holding the older man, the redhead who had been so focused on Foxx’s bear sunsuit during the meeting earlier that month, looked much grimmer today. The wolf nodded and followed Harlow. He roughly shoved priests out of his way, before they got smart and parted to give him room to walk. Tony followed behind.
They had to pass through a courtyard, but eventually, they found a building that seemed to hold mostly offices, and picked one at random. Harlow pulled out one of the chairs that sat behind the sturdy-looking, plain wooden desk, and helped the wolf quickly zip-tie the man tightly to it. The priest just glared through the whole process, remaining silent.
Once done, Harlow turned to the werewolf when he continued standing there, even after helping get the man secured. “You can go,” he stated
“I’m Zane Bradly. If you need anything else, let me know,” the werewolf said gruffly before turning and leaving the room. Tony closed the door once he was gone.
Harlow eyed the bastard priest, and without taking his eyes off him, he spoke directly to Tony. “Parameters and allowances?”
“We are looking at over hundreds of victims throughout the country. To make matters worse, there are who knows how many live victims currently being tortured to death. So, you can torture for information. Permanent injuries are allowed. No outright killing. Accidental deaths…permitted, but will result in a lot of paperwork.”
The longer Tony had spoken, the wider the priest’s eyes had become. The man seemed to finally grasp that he was in deep shit.
“Good to know.” Harlow grinned evilly as he met the priest’s fear filled gaze. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Foxx groaned, his eyes still closed. His head was throbbing. Okay, really it was his whole body that was aching. But considering how he had woken up the last few times, he wasn’t surprised. Foxx would say he was pretty sick of it, but surprise was not an emotion he was currently feeling. And he was feeling a lot. A lot of pain.
On top of the new burns he had all over his body…there was this odd, constant stabbing pressure that seemed to flow over the outside of his body, yet it was also inside him, really radiating through his lungs. Frankly, breathing…was painful. The only positive so far was that he could tell he was no longer bound. And Foxx would make sure they regretted that decision, even if it was the last thing he did.
He hesitantly opened his eyes…and blinked in confusion when he found himself looking out at an odd and very steamy room. The stone thing that he was laying on fell away to water about an inch from his face. As in, if he rolled over, Foxx would plunge in. Eyeing the clear liquid through the dense steam…it didn’t take a genius to figure out it was probably holy water. Which explained why the fucking air hurt.
Groaning in pain, he pushed up. Hissing, he quickly realized that the stone he was on was covered in scripture…the fuckers. Everything in this damn room was meant to hurt his kind. Staring out over the expanse of water, he tried to judge if the distance was jumpable.
Across the way, Foxx could see steps that lead up to a walkway out of the room. It was probably about thirty feet away. Normally, the distance would be fine for him to jump, especially if he used energy to hover a bit. But add in the steam of death, Foxx’s currently low energy levels, plus his injuries, and Foxx would likely plummet before he made it to the other side. Which would not be his idea of a fun time.
Foxx glanced down and frowned. His clothes and shoes were gone, and he was in some weird white long sleeve gown that went down to his ankles.
He flinched upon hearing a groan that wasn’t his own. Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes widened at the sight of at least twenty downed vampires, all wearing the exact same gown. Horror filled him at seeing the size of some of them—mere children. Many were not moving.
Stumbling to his feet, he shook his head as it swayed, but he forced himself to push past the agony and weakness to look around. They were on a large square stone platform that was raised up, surrounded by water on all sides. Steam pretty much filled the entire room.
These conditions…did these bastards just plan to torture them all to death?
Foxx tried to take a step forward, but found himself stumbling. Hissing, he started to pray to his Goddess inside his head. The next step he took was lighter, as was each step after that. Foxx slipped into his bloodline powers. His heart clenched at the dimness of the threads of those all around him. Some had already been extinguished, their lines completely dark.
As for the ones that still lived…they were all slowly dying, and likely had been for many days. From what he could see of them, some had severe burns on their hands, feet, and faces. No doubt from the scripture covered stone under them.
Foxx forced himself to not focus on the complete darkness surrounding several small figures, and instead beelined for the only child still alive—a little girl laying face down nearby.
