A place of solitude for angels, though demons and humans are welcome as well. Remember, Lucifer was once an angel himself. Should demons inflict violence upon holy ground, the result is immediate death.
Juliette paced along the pews slowly, moving like a panther as she caressed her fingertips over the wood. Her dark eyes looked ahead of her to see the hanging Jesus on his cross. Frowning in disgust, she continued walking until she stood before Him. She did not bow or kneel, showing no respect in holy ground. Her arms crossed as she continued to peer up at him. “What makes you so special…” Looking around her, she could see various humans kneeling and praying in pews. It disgusted her. How could one lowly Jew command so much respect even today? Shaking her head slightly, she turned to sit in one of the front pews.Resting her arms on her knees, the candle light reflected on her face as she tried to make sense of why she always came here. Clearly she had no respect for religion. And yet, here she was every other day trying to make sense of how one good being could command so much respect and power. He wasn’t even alive and he was still relevant and seemed to hold some sort of power over the humans. Sitting up, she leaned back against the pew and began to ponder in silence the concepts of christianity.
After an hour or so, Juliette stood up and stormed out of the cathedral.
The door opened, and the man stepped inside. The dark, lightly lit small room forcing him to cramp inside of it as he sat on the small bench. His eyes were shut as he crossed his fingers from his forehead, to his chest, then across both ways. His back was straight as can be, his hair long and beautiful, his features flawless in every design. His clothing was that of a royal, though was dark in color. “How may the lord’s hand help you today my child?”
The voice came from the other side of the wall by a man who was probably just as corrupt as he, yet held his title and position closely for the perks. The man, being Henry Johnson, rose his eyes to the small sliding door in the wall that seperated the two seating ares, and his voice came forth from lush lips. “Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.” His voice was one of sultry lust, perfect in every way and able to woo even the most stubborn of men and women alike. Though Henry preffered the heterosexual path, food was food for him.
“What is this sin, if you do not mind my asking?” The voice came in reply to Henry’s words, and he remained silent, contemplating how he should answer. Being one not used to caring for keeping secrets unless they benefitted him, he spoke. “I have made a deal with the devil…and it has brought me naught for else but pain and suffering.” Silence fell over the small box, for more than a set alloted time as the other man pondered what he had heard.
“20 hail marys, my boy. Your troubles shall be taken from you by God.” Shuffling of feet could be heard as the Father began to stand, but Henry, his eyes in a blinkless stare at the sliding door in the wall before him, interrupted the man with his next words. “What if…all I have is my suffering? My regret?” The small door shot open and the Father’s figure was caught with Henry’s eyes. the man looked into them, fear obvious within his eyes and the beads of sweat that flew down his forehead. Henry stood, and moved closer to the hole now opened in the wall, bidding the man did the same.
“You have been of no help to me, Father. I am afraid I must end your service to the lord.” the Father unwillingly fit his head through the hole, and turned his body so that his neck was clearly visible. Henry slowly lowered his mouth, and parted his lips. His fangs elongated then and sank deep into the main vein of the man’s neck. Henry gripped tightly, and sucked powerfully, though droplets of blood still escaped his lips. It took about an hour, but the job was completed.
The door opened, and from it came forth Henry, patting his lips with a clean white handkerchief, shutting the door behind him to the sight of a man, his head hanging from the hole in the wall, and his eyes wide with fear.
The Clergy had been tight lipped about the discovery of the Priest, that had been found with his head hanging through the confessional small slide window, and the obvious blooded bite marks found upon his neck. The very idea of a murder within the Catherdral itself was unimaginable, but the way his body was found, made it all the more shocking. Naturally, this sort of story would make front page and sell many copies of the Times. So it was no surprise really, that the editor sent his best reporter; Miss Vivian Westlake, to get the scoop.
Vivian lived for these stories. Not only were they gruesome, macabre and twisted, Vivian found she had a good eye for detail when getting the information from witnesses and officials. She had a certain knack, of getting people to divulge, their most treasured secrets, and of course, to get a Priest or member of the Clergy to open up to her, shouldn’t be so hard.
The tip off of the murder, actually came from the local orphanage, where the Head Mistress there, is the sister to the Bishop. She also happens to play bridge on Wednesday nights, so it was during a hand, that Miss Knotts, revealed the finding of the priest’s body in the confessional, and the scandalous rumors that were circulating within the church itself. Up until Vivian heard of it at that card game, they had done a good job of keeping it under wraps. Vivian was almost giddy at the bold description that Miss Knotts gave. How a man who was impeccably dressed, with shoulder length hair, was seen leaving the booth, by one of the nuns that had been praying. The smell of blood was on his skin, and she remembered the haunting look in his eyes.
“Fascinating..” Vivian thought to herself, then excusing herself from the game, so that she could make arrangements, to go and interview the clergy, and the nun who saw…what she suspected to be, a Vampire. After contacting her Editor, who was thrilled with this rough tip off about the Cathedral murder, he organised for her to take the first carriage out and have her spend the day conducting interviews, so that she could get enough information, to then be put into print. The editor was practically salivating at the sheer number of papers that would be sold from this story alone.
Arriving at the Cathedral, a young nun was assisting a homeless man, that had come to the sleep on the steps of the Catherdral. She was trying to help him to sit up, and offering him a cup of hot tea, as Miss Westlake approached.
“Morning Sister. Hello George.” Yes, Vivian knew George well, for he was a well liked vagrant who often knew his way around the kind hearted nuns of the parish. George looked up and rubbed his stubbly chin, then taking the cup of tea graciously from the nun. “Top of the morning Miss. What you doin’ ere? Not known the likes of you to be praying to ya God.”
“Oh George, I have faith. I pray, just not usually in churches.”
“More like down at the track, on ya horses.” George was once a member of high society, a wealthy business man, who fell on hard times, after losing much of his business to a horrid woman he married, that took him for everything, and left him destitute. But in his day, he knew Vivian well, and her Father. How much Vivian was like him, but that is a tale for another day. The nun was about to head inside, when Vivian caught her arm and then threaded her own hand through it, so they could walk inside together.
“I understand you have had a terrible misfortune take place, with one of your priests.”
The nun froze, and you could see the blood run from her face. The shock seeming to reappear, as the nun looked about to see if she was being watched. When all was clear, she whispered to Vivian.
“Twas a Vampire. In this very building. He drank the blood of Father Griggs. Left him, with his head hanging through the confessional window. No one believes me. But I saw him, with my own eyes. I swear on the bible. I never thought I would believe in such a thing. But there are Vampires in London.”
This was just what Vivian had hoped to hear. An eyewitness account of the scope of the year. This even topped the Hollow Street murders for the simple fact, it was so unbelievable.
“Why don’t we go inside, and talk over a cup of tea, Sister. I happen to believe you.”
The nun was more than obliging to the young reporter, when the two women sat down to chat about the gruesome murder of the Priest by what the nun described as a Vampire. She must have eaten ten biscuits, like a church mouse, all the while, telling the terrible tale, and Vivian scribbled down notes, eager to lap up this most incredible story.
By the end of the interview, Vivian had a very good description of how the vampire was dressed and also what he looked like, right down to the finest detail. Its amazing how easy it was to loosen the lips of a nun, and all it took was sweet biscuits. Everyone has a weakness, and Vivian easily found the nuns. At one point, the Nun became distressed, as she recalled the eyes of the vampire. Her hand shook and she nearly dropped her biscuit into her tea. Vivian reached across and patted her hand, with an all too sweet smile. “There there…I am sure he won’t be back in a hurry. I like to think that these monsters don’t often strike in the same place twice. Kind of like lightening.” The nun shivered at the woman’s touch and nodded, though you could see her eyes were rimmed with unshed tears. Having gotten enough information, Vivian withdrew her hand and then rose to standing. She looked down at the nun, and then said with a concerned voice.
“I am positive that this Vampire will be caught, and brought to justice. So long as the right authorities are aware, that and of course the reading public. One should not keep this sort of thing buried, I mean, how is one to protect themselves, if they don’t know what the enemy is or even what they look like. You, Sister, have offered a light to many Londoners, that may now keep a vigilant eye out for the monsters among us.” The Sister stood up and wiped off the biscuit crumbs from her habit, as Vivian wished her a good day, and strode out of the Cathedral, armed with the latest scoop. She was going to be the Editor’s favorite reporter today, and she felt a tingle in her body. She wasn’t at all scared about the story that she just unearthed, more concerned with being showered with glory by her Editor.