“You have never encountered Kilian,” Stephen said. “He's a little tougher than the average Judas vamp.” He offered a stereotypical villainous smirk.
“Stephen, enough. We’re not here to pick a fight,” Kilian said. He refocused his attention on the priest. “Some supernatural creature, possibly demonic in nature, has found a way to target my vampiric magic and is attempting to take control. A demon or witch with the power of a Judas vamp would not be in anyone's best interest, including Silas’s. I think this warrants waking him.”
For the first time, the priest appeared startled. His friendly grin vanished, replaced with a blank stare that could’ve equally suggested worry or disbelief.
“We’re on a limited timeframe, and we have cause to believe that the Army may also be headed this way,” Kilian said. He might even have been telling the truth. He didn’t know how much information the Army had on the sleeping, although they knew Silas had agreed to sire Kilian because he needed funds to pay to have his body guarded. Kilian wondered if theology or finances were the heart of the church’s relationship with the vampires born out of their god’s legacy. “I need to speak with Silas.”
The priest shook his head. “We have no protocol for interrupting the rest of a Judas vamp. Once they seek shelter under our altar, we leave them be. That is especially true of...” he hesitated before he said, “it is especially true of Silas.
“Because of the disk,” Kilian said. These priests had no reason to protect Silas, but that disk represented their god. The small wooden carving was one of the only artifacts known to have come from Christ’s cross, and it was only through the power of the sacred artifact that Silas could sleep uninterrupted. For a vamp as old as him, an altar alone was not enough to suppress his own powers. Again, the priest was rattled.
“Perhaps I should get the bishop,” he offered.
“Perhaps you should,” Stephen snapped.
Kilian gave him an incredulous look, but before he could turn his attention back to the priest, the man had vanished back through the service door.
Kilian sighed and rubbed his face. He was so fucking tired. The blood he’d drunk in the throes of passion had sated some of the hunger, but Kilian still felt something pulling at him, stripping his soul of vitality. “Did you have to be that confrontational?”
“Pretty much,” Stephen said easily. “I mean, I could have pussyfooted around their stupidity, but I didn’t feel like it.”
Kilian frowned, uncomfortable around this sharper version of Stephen, this bitter man who had all of Stephen's humor and none of his heart.
“We’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” Kilian said, appealing to Stephen's self-interest.
Stephen laughed. “Yes, but I'm not hunting flies.”
Kilian studied his lover, his partner in crime, his friend and the man he had promised the Army he would kill if the situation got out of hand. “What are you hunting?”
Stephen shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe a snipe.”
“You're on a snipe hunt?” Kilian had no idea what to say to that. That implied someone had sent Stephen on an impossible hunt after a fictional creature, and Kilian’s tired brain was making unfortunate connections to the demon.
“Maybe.” Stephen shrugged. “However, I don't trust that these religious nuts.”
“They aren’t nuts. These are good religious men.”
Stephen snorted. “Religious men aren’t good. If we want to know what's targeting you, we need Silas. We can’t wait for these losers. So, I say we storm the Bastille and get your sire.” Stephen gave him a cheeky grin. “I know you can’t touch the altar.” Stephen gave him a hopeful look, but Kilian shuddered at the idea of even trying to.Oh hell no.
Kilian changed the subject to a more serious obstacle, at least for him. “If we want to wake Silas, we’re going to have to remove the disk that's on his chest, and I'm not sure I can remain conscious if I even look at it.” The thought of it made Kilian’s stomach contents churn in protest.
“Have you ever wondered if any of this might just be psychological?”
Kilian raised his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that well-documented physical limitations of a breed of supernatural are nothing more than advanced hypochondria?”
Stephen shrugged. “Maybe. I suspect hypochondria is at least involved in making it worse. If not, then why is Silas able to lay down under an altar without even falling asleep? Why does he need that bit of wood?”
“Because he’s old.”
Stephen made a production of considering the possibility, tapping his chin and pursing his lips. It was obnoxious. “Entirely possible,” he admitted. “Another possibility is that he is getting over some of his irrational guilt and realizing that the God whose power he carries is known for forgiving. Didn't you say that was Christ’s essential nature? Maybe as Silas works through his guilt, the Christian icons have less power over him.”
The idea was so ridiculous that Kilian couldn’t counter it. It was like suggesting that mermen could overcome the need to breathe water. Okay, bad example because there was magic that could do that, but the general principle was that supernaturals were limited by their nature the way humans were limited by a need to breathe. “That’s an interesting theory, but I'm not sure why we should care at this exact moment.”
Stephen took a step closer and rested his hand on Kilian's arm. “Something is trying to steal you. If these useless priests won't help us, then this whole mission comes down to the two of us getting in there and waking Silas. I'm strong, but I have been using a lot of magic, and I don't think I can do this alone, and I definitely can’t do it while dragging your body to keep you within the fifteen feet rule. So I guess I am asking you to let go of a little bit of that Catholic guilt of yours and help me get this done. You’re strong, Kilian. You are so fucking strong. I admire that more than I can explain using words. I know you can do this if you will allow yourself.” Stephen stared into Kilian’s face and the genuine need and worry and admiration shone through.
“I'm sure the priest will help us,” Kilian said, but he didn’t sound convincing, even to himself. Priests were not interested in doing favors for Judas vamps. They only fulfilled their obligation to the church as the Pope and his counsel decreed it. Stephen continued to stare at Kilian until reality shoved in. He muttered, “Well fuck.”
“I feel a need to make a joke about not accepting that offer right now because of where we are, but that would probably be in bad taste.”
