Chapter Text
You may have made a mistake.
Standing straight was becoming a challenge. The dips in the sand were like fox holes, tripping you despite your unmatched agility and you found yourself raising your hand in front of you to recover your equilibrium. Not that you could see that far. You would have seen your sapphire ring glimmer if you were anywhere else in the world but in this goddamned sandstorm.
The howling wind against your sensitive hearing was near deafening and despite the two layers of navy saree protecting your eyes you felt sand settle on your lashes. For a moment you entertained the thought of closing your eyes and letting the Sandman work his magic. You were weary for the first time in a long time.
Instead, you forced your eyes to remain wide open. You may have been dumb enough to wander into the desert on a whim with only a map and compass – both of which the storm has rendered useless - to guide you, but you were not stupid enough to be buried alive.
Is that what happened to it ? Did it seek shelter like you are now?
It mattered not. Unlike it, you would persevere like you always have and put an end to this nightmarish quest.
You made slow progress until you caught a faint whiff of blood. How very odd. What would a human be doing this far into the desert? Perhaps you were closer to civilization than you thought. It was not what you initially sought, but it certainly piqued your curiosity and appetite. Your most basic instincts heightened instantly; your limbs were lighter, faster, and more focused. You needed no stars or moon to guide you. You followed what you knew best, your own personal gravitational pull; blood.
You never knew what to expect. A few years back you had to dive into the deepest depths of the Atlantic Ocean to find a trunk containing something little more than bones covered in chains. But it was there, her vitae* still preserved in a minuscule piece of flesh. Humans have gone to grave lengths to destroy your kind. And those they couldn’t they imprisoned. A faith worse than death.
How long did it take for them to lose their minds to the darkness?
How long would it take you?
The smell of blood was strong outside the cave’s entrance. No wonder you picked up on it despite the wind and sand. It was blood spilled.
You had to act fast.
Perhaps you could have taken a moment longer to plan your first move, but it would not have helped. You have seen some odd things in your time, but the wings caught you off guard. You have heard of its kind, but you have yet to see one in the flesh. It was ancient. Your hand tightened around your crossbow. Once you pulled the trigger there was no coming back. If not for the fluttering heartbeat and gushing blood of the old man engulfed under large wings it would have smelled you long ago.
‘Drink’
What the -
‘Drink’
You heard the wordless command clearly, but it was not meant for you. Its primal essence flowed freely from its wrist directly into the man’s eager mouth.
You shot your arrow without a second thought, but the creature dodged it and disappeared completely, only to pounce on you from the left and knock you to the ground.
You never expected to find a vampire so many generations above you, let alone fight one. Most were hardly even intact when you found them.
No matter. It may have wings, but you had a blade.
It screeched when you stabbed it near the heart. Your dagger may not be as classy as your crossbow, but it would do the job. Or it would have if the creature didn’t fly headfirst into the raging sandstorm.
You were cursed – obviously - but surely you were cursed in more ways than one. How else would you explain discovering that creature after hundreds of years of captivity in a freshly uncovered cave mere minutes after it regained all its strength? How could you have anticipated that a stray lamb would wander into the beast's den, ready to be feasted upon?
What were the odds?!
Would that argument hold up in court? When you would surely be questioned on how you let a creature like that escape. On why you insisted to be a lone wolf and work alone when this “job clearly required a partner”.
This thing could have been the ticket to your freedom. Now you would have to face reprimand of an unknown magnitude. Who knew what carnage it was exacting on the people of this Holy Land while you were cooped up in this cave?
Regardless, when one was immortal, there was really no point in fretting about the future.
Instead, you decided to observe your cellmate.
The cave was dark, but it made no difference to you as you advanced on what appeared to be a Holy Man. Catholic, judging from the clerical collar just below the gash in his neck.
You knelt above him. He was barely with you. Clearly, in shock he muttered prayers, hands shaking around his rosary. Your heart went out to the old man. No one should die in fear and pain. But then again...
Blood stained the priest's lips. Perhaps you haven’t interrupted the embrace* soon enough. By all logic, you should snap his neck. End the pain, and the fear and save him from the curse you wished to be rid of night after night. Abide by the traditions and preserve the Masquerade* at all costs.
“Angel” the old man whispered, and you chuckled.
Hmph. He was more than a little confused. His eyes were wide, and his weak hand trembled in your direction. You always had a soft spot for the elderly. That’s probably why you steadied his hand in yours. You guessed it was the least you could do to make sure he was comfortable since you haven’t got the guts to end his suffering.
He wasn’t exactly roadkill.
He was still muttering about angels and other nonsense then... something about your... hair? Oh. Is that why he thought you were an angel? Your ethereal beauty? Silly Holy Man.
You hoped he would live.
Eventually, he had fallen unconscious, and his breath and heartbeat slowly evened out. An hour later his wound was gone, and dark grey streaks shone in his previously completely white hair.
It looked like he would do more than just live.
As much as you enjoyed watching his slow-motion de-aging process, you were exhausted and tried to go to sleep. It wasn’t easy in your position on hard stony ground, but you must have. The next time you opened your eyes you saw a different man.
His hair caught your attention first. It was a dark chestnut, nearly black with a thick eyebrow and a full beard to match, framing his handsome face exquisitely. You fought the urge to reach up and run your hands along his cheek, but then you realized that he was now the one holding onto you. His hands were soft but firm as he grasped your much smaller delicate fingers with no signs of wanting to let go.
My, my, Holy Man. Aren’t you a fine specimen?
You felt the tell-tale signs in your body; heart thudding against your rib cage, mouth dry, muscles aching and flexing, your pupils; dilated.
You were hungry.
Your stomach tightened and you licked your lips.
“What a fine meal you would make.”
Amber brown his eyes were when they snapped open to stare at you.
They were wide, but comprehension that was not there before sparkled in them.
He opened his mouth to speak.
Your breath caught in your throat.
There was only one thing to do.
You knocked him out.
The storm has passed and there were still a few hours left until sunrise. You packed up your weapons but left your map and compass behind just in case. You hit him quite hard, but you held out hope that the creature's blood would protect him against a concussion and other mortal ailments for a little while longer. If you were lucky, he may however forget about the winged monster attacking him or better yet; forget who he was entirely, so no one would ever find out that until a few hours ago he was a senior citizen.
It didn’t feel right to leave him, but without a better option, you left without a second glance.
Outside you were relieved to see not only a clear sky full of stars but lights in the distance. You really didn’t make it far into the desert and it would take no more than an hour or two to make it back to your haven without a storm hindering your movements. The priest should have no problems either. Not with a virile body like that.
You shook your head grimacing.
You spent months conducting interviews and researching libraries – often by breaking and entering thanks to the daytime opening hours – to find your payload and what do you have to show for it all? A pathetic crush on a catholic priest.
You worked so hard, too hard. Now you had to do damage control.
You figured if you did everything right from this point onwards and followed all traditions to a tee, you may come out of this on top. Yes, you have violated the Masquerade by letting that man live and that creature escapes, but you knew your Prince* cared about one thing and one thing only; blood. That creature was more powerful than anything you have ever delivered to him. Once you tracked it down and served it on a silver platter you will be rewarded, not punished. You will be free of these assignments and have the freedom you longed for.
Even the best hunter needs to track and follow their wounded prey.
And that’s what you were; a hunter.
You were a terrible hunter. It has been two weeks since you let your meal ticket fly past you and you heard absolutely nothing. If you were honest with yourself, you were out of shape. So many of your recent exploits were mummified vampires you were more of an archaeologist than your former badass self. At least you heard no gossip of cave attacks, revitalized priests, or the like. The handsome Holy Man has departed without so much as a farewell to his group, clearly content with starting a new life without causing any trouble.
It was time to follow suit and move on. As valuable as that creature was it was worthless if you ran out of resources and had to report your failures to the Prince and beg for an advanced paycheck.
You started your research online, tallying a list of strange events on each continent to decide which had the best chance of bearing fruit. In some countries, it was cheaper and easier to hunt than in others, something you also had to factor in due to wasting most of your rainy day funds in Jerusalem.
Just as you set your sights on Eastern Europe, - your home continent and favorite location to work in - an article you did not expect to see caught your eye.
"Local Priest Performs A Miracle"
What on the surface appeared to be clickbait has detailed the sad story of a young girl named Leeza Scarborough, the wheelchair-using daughter of the local mayor who was paralyzed after being accidentally shot. That is until the new priest of the small fishing town has performed a miracle.
Sure enough, a small picture of said priest and the young girl confirmed your fears.
Holy Man, what have you done?!