Saint Michael Part 1

Saint Michael, Archangel, defend us in battle against the

wickedness and snares of the devil.  May God rebuke him,

we humbly pray.  And you, Prince of the heavenly hosts,

by the power of God, thrust into Hell Satan and the other

evil spirits who prowl the world for the ruin of souls.

Amen.







         Michael stood across the street with his eyes fixed on the double doors of the building.  Dirty bricks framed the doors, and the thick panes of glass stared accusingly at him.  They were familiar, but distant.  A cool wind blew through the bare trees lining the street.  Michael closed his eyes and listened to the scratching of leaves and branches.  He had not moved since the stars first blinked into existence, and the moon was high overhead now. He stood in darkness, remembering what it had been like to walk through those doors for the first time.  The uncertainty, frustration, and hopelessness had dimmed, but remained present.  Michael closed his eyes to the rush of memories that overwhelmed him.  He let the flood take him back.  Back ten years ago.







         The world was still white with snow.  Frigid air and star-lit skies characterized this Michigan winter night, and a chilling breeze rustled dry branches.  Michael saw all this through frosted windows as he strode through the hospital with relative ease, ignoring the bustle of the nurses and doctors.  The PA was harsh in his ears, and the walls seemed blindingly white to his sensitive eyes.  No one noticed him.  As long as he looked like he had a purpose, no one would bother him.  In his mind he heard thoughts whispered from behind closed doors.  Thoughts of the sick and dying.

         “Dear God.  Hear my prayer…”

         “If only I could tell them…”

         “Why now?  Why…”

         He paused suddenly at one door.  “Glorious Saint Michael, Prince of the heavenly hosts, who stands always ready to give assistance to the people of God; who fought with the dragon and cast him out of heaven, I earnestly entreat you …”

         Michael walked on, smiling slightly.  So people still pray to St. Michael, he thought.  If only they could see their saint.  Finding the room he wanted, he wrenched the lock and pulled open the door.  The blood gleamed behind the glass doors of the refrigerators, beckoning him in.  He gently pulled the door closed behind him and crossed the room to the shelves marked O+.  No one would miss one sack of this blood, and he only needed one tonight.  He slipped the packet into his pocket and left the room.  He exited the hospital with the same anonymity that he entered.  Finding a quiet alley, he leaned against brick wall and sank his teeth through the plastic.  Cold blood washed down his throat, making him retch.  This blood was hardly a substitute for hot living blood, but it was enough to sustain him.  He muscled past the reflex and swallowed.  The second mouthful was no better than the first, but it was better than having more lives on his conscience.

         “You enjoy suffering, don’t you?” a voice whispered softly in his ear.  Michael spun around, angry that someone could have approached him without his knowledge and seen him like this.  He immediately recognized the dark figure that stood before him.  His dark hair was shaggy, but his goatee was neatly trimmed.  For a vampire his skin was exceptionally tan.  He stood there with the cocky half-smile that had characterized his personality as a human and continued to be so as an immortal.

         “What do you want, Draven?” Michael asked suspiciously.

         Draven’s smile widened to show his sharp canines.  “Do you ever miss what you used to be?  The sacrifices in your honor, guiding their souls to heaven, or in your case sending them there.  The old, the sick, the hopeless, all were paraded in front of you in a wondrous torrent of adulation and blood.  Michael, Micha’el, El’s likeness.  You were a god, and now you reduce yourself to this.”  He gestured disgustedly at the empty plastic bag.

         Michael sighed and turned his back to Draven.  “You never could understand,” Michael said quietly.  “When I left, I wanted you to come with me.  To be outside that blind worship, out of reach of the cult and the coven I created.”

         “But you taught me how to drink.  That was enough.  Besides there is no way to escape what you created.”  Draven stepped behind Michael and put his lips to his ear.  “Do you remember real blood?” he whispered.  “Hot and living, flowing into your empty veins.  The thrill of the hunt.  The dying heartbeat echoing in you brain.”

         Michael felt the thirst rise in him at the remembrance of past kills.  He closed his eyes as he tried to control it, but it welled up inside him.  His breath came in short gasps through slightly parted lips as his fangs pressed against his lower lip, remembering warm flesh beneath them.  He tried to press down the bubble of desire that rose.  Somewhere outside himself he felt Draven’s arms wrap around his torso.  When he opened his eyes he saw not the dirty brick wall of the city, but a small typical Midwest town.  Ornate streetlights lit up Main Street while darkened figures passed by.  They warmed the cold night air with their hot blood, and the scent of it drifted over the two vampires like a warming cloak.

         “Do you see them?” Draven whispered in Michael’s ear.  “See them in their ignorance.  Most were born here and will die here.  They have no ambition and no real knowledge.  They are food.  Nothing more.  Why torture yourself with delusions of sins passed?  They are there waiting for that last blissful moment when their life is drawn out by us.”

         Somewhere in his mind, Michael knew that it was ridiculous to allow himself to be baited like this, especially by one of his own fledglings, but that primal hunger pulsed on.  All Michael was seeing was the bodies that brushed passed him, warm and pulsing with life.  Draven had stepped back to watch the monster he had unleashed on the world.  He knew that look on Michael’s face by heart, the glazed eyes and bared fangs.  Smiling he knocked into a young girl so she fell against Michael.  In a flash Michael had his arms around her, and he had disappeared into the night.  Draven laughed into the clear night air, and he too vanished.







         Michael reappeared in the middle of the forest and buried his face in her neck before he even realized what he was doing.  Suddenly he was drowning in a sea of blood.  The feelings he had suppressed for nearly two centuries came rushing back.  The ecstasy, the pure joy of her heart beating blood into his veins was unimaginable.  She clung to him with her warm limbs and her hot breath panted into the chilled air.  She surrounded him completely with her scent and body.  The forest spun in circles as the blood passed from her body into Michael’s.  She put a hand on his chest as if to push him away, but it slid up around his neck and pulled his head closer.  Her eyes tried to focus on the night sky, on anything, but pleasure overwhelmed her as much as Michael.  The civilized portion of his mind beat senselessly at the wall of desire created by the thirst.  Eventually it broke through and Michael snapped back to himself.  He ripped himself away from the seduction of her blood.  She pushed weakly away from Michael and tried to run, but in her condition, she only managed a few steps before falling unconscious to the hard winter ground. 

         Michael sighed, cursing himself silently in his mind for being weak.  He walked over to the girl and knelt down beside her.  Her name was Lana, he read in her mind, and she lived in town with her parents.  She was only eighteen.  He gently lifted her into his arms and pictured her bedroom in his mind.  His power was the ability to transport himself anywhere by thought, and in an instant he was standing beside her bed.  Papers littered the floor and covered the dresser and chair.  The chaos did seem to be organized.  The papers were grouped in piles, and books were stacked by subject.  The desk in the corner was an eclectic collection varying from the mundane pencils and pens to vials filled with colored oils to a small dagger disappearing under more notes.  Michael carefully picked his way to the bed and gently laid Lana on it.  He turned to leave when he felt a hand catch his arm. 

         “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?” he heard her whisper behind him.  Michael closed his eyes and sighed.

         “Yes,” he answered turning around to see her reaction.

         “You don’t look like a vampire,” she said cocking her head to the side and squinting to see him better in the dark.  Michael had dusty blonde hair that hung to his shoulders and eyes such a dark brown they were usually mistaken as black.  His pale skin seemed almost translucent in electric light and glowed in candlelight.  He wore black shirt and jeans, not to capitalize on the vampire image, but because it was how he felt.  In today’s image, he wasn’t much of a vampire.

         “What do you want from me?” he asked sitting on the edge of her bed.

         “Just to talk.  I’ve never met a vampire.  I didn’t even realize they existed.”

         Michael didn’t know whether to applaud or condone her lack of fear.  “Aren’t you afraid I will kill you?”

         “If you had wanted to kill me, you would have done so in the woods.  Why didn’t you?”

         “I don’t kill,” Michael stated simply.  In his mind he saw flashes of an altar covered in blood, the back room of a church with a body on the bed, himself holding a young man, and he heard Draven’s laughter echo in his skull.  “I am not that person anymore,” Michael hissed.

         “What?”

         “I must leave,” Michael said standing.

         “Wait,” Lana said.  “Will I ever see you again?”

         “That would not be wise.”  Now Michael, a voice whispered in his head.  You want to be human so much.  Here’s you’re chance.

         “Could you at least tell me your name?” she asked.

         “Michael,” he answered curtly, trying to drown out Draven.

         “Michael, like the archangel,” she said pulling a medallion out of her shirt.  “I’m Catholic.”

         “No,” Michael said turning away.  “Not like the archangel.”  With that he vanished.







         Lana awoke the next morning exhausted.  She massaged the bite marks on her neck while she prepared for school.  She threw on a high collared shirt in an attempt to hide the marks.  It was done without thought.  Lana was in the last semester of her senior year and didn’t really care what anyone thought.  Most of the students in her school had no idea about the larger world around them.  Grabbing her backpack, she went down stairs for breakfast.  Her mother, a tall, thin, willowy woman, was reading the newspaper, while her father’s robust frame could be seen in the adjoining family room tying his tennis shoes.

         “Good morning,” her mother said through her newspaper.

         “ ’Morning,” Lana answered.  She grabbed a bagel and munched on it as she walked out to her car.  She started it up and began to sweep the snow off.  It had been a mild winter, but there had been a freak snowstorm late last night.  One of the hazards of living in Michigan.  It was still dark when she pulled out of the driveway.  Driving gave her time to formulate a coherent sentence to explain to her grandmother what had happened last night.  She wasn’t quite sure that she understood it herself.  Her mind was in turmoil.  Last night had gone against everything she believed.  What made it worse was that she had enjoyed it.  How could she explain that?  She shivered as she remembered the pleasure of his lips on her neck and the solidity of his arms wrapping her.

         She pulled into her grandmother’s driveway and shut off the car.  Lana sat staring at the steering wheel for a few moments.  She watched the fog creep up the window as she tried to muster the courage to leave the vehicle.  Yellow light spilled across the snow and Lana could see the lithe form of her grandmother silhouetted in the doorway.

         “Was last night successful?” her grandmother greeted her.

         “I got a couple weaker ones, but something bigger happened,” Lana answered tossing her coat over a chair and sinking into it.

         “Tell me about it, Alana,” her grandmother said taking the chair opposite.

         “Please call me Lana,” she said.

         “If you will call me Anne like the rest of the Assembly.  It makes no difference that I am your grandmother.  Now tell me about last night.”

         Lana sighed.  “I was attacked.”  She pulled down her collar to reveal the two marks still burning on her skin.

         “They don’t look serious,” Anne said leaning closer to examine them.  “You didn’t take any blood did you?”

         “No, but, Anne, it was a vampire named Michael.”

         “Michael drank from you and didn’t kill you?” Anne asked in amazement.  “I don’t understand.  St. Michael?”

         “Maybe.  Anne, who is he?”

         “I will tell you later.  Did he say if he would come back?”

         “No, but he might.  Something was bothering him.  I was reading a lot of confusion in him.”

         “Very well,” Anne said.  “This is serious.  Michael hasn’t surfaced in over two hundred years.  There must be a reason.  Go to school as if nothing happened.  If he comes again, act like any other unenlightened human.  I need to discuss this with the Assembly.”

         “I won’t see him at school, will I?  It will be daylight.”

         “At his age one can never tell what powers he will have developed.  Go now.  I don’t want you to be late for class.”  Lana slipped back into her coat and drove to school with dread welling up inside her heart.







         Michael reappeared in the basement of a church in Germany.  It had been a sacred place since Michael had displaced Wotan, although many churches have been built on this spot over the centuries.  The building above was Lutheran now and had no memory of the sacrifices that had been demanded of it or of the blood that had soaked into the soil.  Michael closed his eyes at the memories.  Why did it fall to him to be haunted by his past?  Why didn’t he just throw himself into the fire and let the flames consume his grief?

         “Because you love life too much,” a voice whispered behind him.

         “Arianwen, is that the name you answer to now?”

         “That or Ari.”

         “My conviction failed me.  Every day I regret the brief moment of passion that created Draven.”

         “You cannot allow yourself to be troubled by something that happened so long ago,” Ari said placing a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulder.

         “My own fledgling haunts me with memories.  He thinks himself Samael reincarnate.  The god of resurrection be damned.  Even Samael would cast out Draven.  He is angry because he did not inherit the mantle of a god when I left, and he is angry with me for leaving it all.”  Michael sat down heavily on one of the forgotten pews that littered the room.  Above he could feel the weight and warmth of the sun and daylight.  He longed for the cool freedom of night and for the voices in his mind to be silenced.

         “They were dark days,” Ari said sitting quietly next to him.  “We have both moved beyond it.  Draven craved power even as a mortal.  You knew that when you created him.  It was why you made him.  You needed a second as ambitious as you.  But the past is past.  Let it be.  You need a distraction,” she suggested with a decidedly lighter tone.  “Go somewhere where he cannot follow.  Live among humans, and maybe there neither the thirst nor Draven will tempt you.”

         “You make it sound so simple.”

         Ari shrugged.  “I have always looked young for my age and so do you.  When I feel my resolve slipping, I spend time in a high school or college.  Start there and live a mortal life or two.  You just need to remember why we drink blood freely given.”

         “Always the voice of reason,” Michael whispered staring at the stone floor.

         “I try.  Sometimes all it takes is a cool head.”

         “At what point does a cool head become a cold heart?”  Michael asked and instantly regretted a comment that wounded the only friend he had.

         Ari looked away.  “My heart thawed centuries ago.  Think about what I said.”  She brushed Michael’s cheek with the back of her hand and disappeared.  Michael sighed and rested his head on the wall behind him, trying not to think of anything at all.  But Ari’s words whirled through his mind.  Freely given…among mortals…thirst nor Draven…moved beyond it…you love life.  He shook his head to clear it.  He raised his eyes to see the crucifix nailed into a beam above the door.  Christ stared down at him with sad eyes and bronze blood running down his face.

         “…died for our sins.”  Michael heard a voice from the past.

         “Not mine,” Michael whispered.  “Not mine.”







         Lana tossed her bag over a chair and sat down next to her friends.  The cafeteria was boiling with bodies, and the smells of lunch drifted heavily throughout the room, a nauseating mixture of whatever the kitchen staff had decided to serve today.  She never ate lunch.  Food during the daytime disgusted her.  It was a distaste that had come with being a hunter.  She found it amusing in that it reminded her vaguely of a vampire’s lifestyle.

         “So,” Ginny began, dropping into a seat at the table.  She was short and bouncy.  Her light brown hair was cut to her shoulders so it didn’t hang in her face when she played sports or get tangled in her trombone.  She livened any party and was friends with everyone she met.  “Did your parents really let you get that tattoo?”

         “Yeah,” Lana answered pulling up her shirtsleeve to reveal the ink there.  It was a silvery crescent moon framing a thorny-looking black rose.

         “Very Goth,” Ginny said with approval.

         “Nice,” Nicole said.  She was the one to watch.  Lana’s best friend, as much as she could have friends.  She had dark hair that often hid her eyes, which were a honey brown and often were the only way to tell what she was thinking.

         “Well,” Ginny said looking hopefully at the buffet.  “The line’s died down a bit.  I’m going to go grab some lunch.  You guys want anything?”

         “No, we’re good,” Lana answered.

         “So the initiation went well,” Nicole said quietly as soon as Ginny was out of earshot.

         “Yeah, it was no big deal.”

         Nicole traced the crescent moon on Lana’s skin.  “The mark of our Council.  I can’t wait for mine.”

         “It won’t be long now.”

         “I know, but the suspense is killing me.  Who did you have to present?”

         “Adrian,” Lana answered rubbing gingerly her shoulder.  The cut there was still fresh.

         “A weaker vampire, but still not bad hunt.”

         “It wasn’t too bad.  Finding him was easy.  He left a trail that even a normal human could follow.  Younger ones are always careless, but he decided not to go without a fight and that’s when things got messy.  If I hadn’t had that knife in my boot…”  Lana shrugged as she trailed off.

         “Ginny’s coming,” Nicole whispered, warningly.

         “Hey.  You guys know anything about the new guy,” Ginny said, sliding her tray across the table and gesturing to a table a couple rows over.  A boy sat with his back to them.  His white shirt stretched tight over his shoulders and dusty blonde hair spilled over the collar.

         “He’s sitting by himself,” Ginny observed.  “Let’s go be friendly.”

         “Do we have to?” Lana asked looking unenthusiastically at the boy’s back.

         “If we don’t who will?” Ginny pointed out.

         “Fine,” Nicole said without any more enthusiasm than Lana and stood up to follow Ginny.  Lana followed her lead, trying to figure out why he looked familiar.  They crossed the room to his table.

         “Michael,” Lana said with shock as she got a good look at his face.

         Michael stood too quickly and neatly caught his chair as it tipped back.  The shocked response seemed too planned for Lana’s tastes.  “Lana.  I never got a chance to apologize for last night.  Will you join me?”

         “You know him?” Ginny asked.

         “We bumped into each other last night,” Lana said sitting warily across from him.  Ginny gave Lana a sly smile and giggled, obviously thinking something completely different than Nicole, who said nothing.  She sat next to Lana and stared at Michael with an intense interest.

         “So where are you from?” Ginny asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that was building.

         “Just moved here from Tennessee.”

         “Wow,” Ginny said.  “That’s a long way.  Enjoying the snow?”

         “I don’t mind the cold,” he said with a shrug.

         “What classes are you taking here?”

         “Right now I’m in English, first is Pre-Cal, second is Mythology, and next I have Visual Arts for the Theater.”

         “A glorified name for stage crew,” Nicole muttered.

         “Nicole and Lana are in that class too,” Ginny volunteered.  “You guys’ll have lots of fun.”

         “Come on,” Nicole said, glancing at her watch and standing.  “The bell’s about to ring.”  She looked at Michael.  “The only good thing about last lunch is that you know that there is only an hour and a half left of school.  Do you know where the auditorium is?”

         “Vaguely,” Michael answered with a indistinct gesture.  Lana was sure he had memorized the map, useless though it was in this patchwork building.  It had been expanded as the class sizes grew.  There was only one staircase that went to all three floors, and in some places, there were only two floors.  It was one of the most confusing places that Lana had ever been in, but after four years, she knew all the shortcuts.

         “Lana and Nicole can show you.  I’ll see you later,” Ginny said waving.  “I’ve got to get to band.”

         “See ya,” Lana answered.  “We’d better get moving.”  They grabbed their bags and headed out into the swirling mess of bodies.  They caught the quickest current and were in the auditorium long before the bell rang.  Lana and Nicole made for their usual spot in the back corner of the house of the theater.

         “Why do you guys sit so far back?” Michael asked looking over his shoulder at the distance between himself and the stage.

         “Up there is where the actors sit,” Nicole said, pointing the first three rows as she dropped her bag and took her seat, third over in the last row.  Lana dropped into the first seat by the aisle.  Seeing nowhere else to sit, Michael took the seat directly in front of her.  “Not much changes in this class,” Nicole added with a shrug.

         The rest of the class filed in.  The stage crew was spread throughout the house and settled into small groups, while the actors and actresses occupied the first three center rows.  The bell rang, but none of the noise diminished.

         The visual arts teacher was one of those teachers, who has been teaching for so long that she had become apathetic.  She was so kind that everyone walked all over her but respected her abilities in the process.  She immediately began assigning tasks to the groups of stage crew, while the drama teacher was still taking attendance.  Class officially began after a short lecture from the drama teacher outlining the day’s plans.  Ignoring her completely, Lana gave Michael the guided tour and Nicole tagged along, inserting her opinion about various topics.  After that crash course in stage crew, they had to vacate the stage.

         “Auditions,” Lana said with a shrug as they headed back to their seats.  Auditions were long and unexciting.  The three watched and bet on who would make the lead roles.

         “What play are we doing?” Michael asked.

         “Phantom of the Opera,” Lana said.

         “A little ambitious for this theater, isn’t it?”  Michael looked skeptically at the small stage and almost non-existent work room.

         “Probably,” Nicole said with a mysterious smile, “but you haven’t seen us work yet.  At this point, we can work miracles.”  They fell back to discussing the actors talent, or lack thereof.  Michael joined in when he could, but another presence distracted him.  It was vague and ethereal, but there nonetheless.  The last five minutes of class were about as chaotic as the first.  There were no speakers in the auditorium so the students crowded the doors in order to be the first to face freedom after the bell rang.

         “See you tomorrow,” Nicole said to Michael as the bell chimed.

         “Good-bye,” Michael said with a slight bow that would have seemed awkward in a setting outside the theatrical.  Lana and Nicole watched as he left the auditorium.  They headed out the back door to their cars. 

         “He’s a vampire,” Nicole said without emotion.

         “I know,” Lana said.  “He fed off me last night.’

         “Then he doesn’t deserve to live,” Nicole said darkly.

         “It doesn’t matter.  Anne says we are to treat him as any other human.”

         “Fine, but if I catch on whiff of human blood on him, he will be my Initiation.”







         Michael was in a sour mood when he made it back to his apartment.  After tasting human blood for the first time in decades, it was difficult for him to be in such close contact with so many humans.  Every accidental brush of skin ignited all his senses.  The scent of the hallways writhing with bodies was enough to get him drunk.  By the end of the day, his vision had begun to tinge red.  It was all he could do to not pull one unsuspecting student into a corner.  On top of that, it was infuriating having to walk, even though it was only a few blocks from school to the apartment complex.  He dropped his books on the couch and went to the window.  He stood for a moment, admiring the humans as they walked to restaurants and to work.  They seemed so peaceful and unaware, happy in their short lives.  Shuddering as his thoughts turned red again, he pulled the blinds closed, blocking all sunlight from the room.  Without human blood to sustain him, the sun’s rays were beginning to become harder to bear.  He hadn’t fed since Lana.  Michael left the living room and went into the bedroom.  He fell heavily onto the bed.  Even though he had to power to survive in daylight, he was still nocturnal.  Sleep would be long in coming, though.  High school was a welcome distraction, and Lana added a nice plot twist, but there were some things that no one could escape from.

Michael knew what would happen when he closed his eyes, but he couldn’t fight sleep forever.  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to the darkness around him to enter a world that was infinitely more dark—his past.







The Tigris sparkled turquoise in the dying rays of the sun.  The mud city in the distance captured and transformed the last of the sunlight into a golden glow, making Michael long for the clean white columns of Athens and Troy.  Michael was standing on a small hill overlooking the scene being played out below.  It was tiresome to win them over one at a time, but there seemed no alternative with this small, secretive religion and it was rising fast.  If he didn’t become a prominent figure now…  His thoughts trailed off as he saw the man walking down the bank.  He was as ragged as most of his kind.  Michael’s lip twitched in disgust, but he quickly redirected his thoughts.  They would be a great people one day or, if not great, at least controlling.  Michael had seen enough of the past to know the future.  Humble beginnings, rising fame, fermentation from within, and eventual collapse.  Religions, civilization, even people were all the same.  He smiled demonically as a figure appeared in front of the human.  His skin looked molten bronze and his white tunic fairly glowed.  Just the affect Michael had planned. 

His name is Daniel, Draven’s voice whispered in Michael’s mind. 

I know, Michael answered.  Just do as I told you.

He saw Daniel drop to the ground.  Michael could feel the surge as Draven’s power overwhelmed the human.  He watched as Draven gently pulled the man to his feet and embraced him.  He could hear the questions echoing through Daniel’s mind and heard them silenced as Draven sunk his teeth into his neck.  Michael closed his eyes and smiled a fanged smile as the pleasure rose in the couple.  Michael had the unique position to be able to experience the ecstasy of the hunter and his prey.  He could feel Draven loosing himself in the blood.  The fervor of the man was no less than religious splendor.

Draven.  Michael’s voice sharply called him to order.  You are not to kill him.  We need a prophet.  Bond him and concoct a story.  That is your mission.

Michael felt a wave of rebellion come at him and quickly threw it back at Draven so violently that he could hear the gasp as it connected with Draven’s brain.  He watched as Draven released the man who fell in the dirt.  Draven then bit his own wrist and let a few drops fall on the man’s mouth.

“Do not fear.  You are safe,” Michael heard Draven say to David.

“Let my lord speak, for you have strengthened me,” David answered.

“Now I must return to fight against the prince of Persia, and when I am through with him, the prince of Greece will come.  But I am to tell you what is inscribed in the Book of Truth.  There is no one with me who contends against these princes except Michael, your prince.  As for me, in the first year of Darius the Mede, I stood up to support and strengthen him and so must you.  Go in peace.”

With that, Draven vanished and reappeared by Michael’s side.  “Well done,” Michael said as the pair watched the awed David stumble down the bank.  “I particularly like that addition of the Book of Truth.”

“One day they will write it,” Draven whispered prophetically.  “And you shall be a main character,” he said with more enthusiasm.

“No,” Michael said.  “Not a main character.  Just a guiding force in the background.  A servant of their God.  Nothing more.  It is more beneficial to be invisible than a martyr.”

“And success is sweet,” Draven said running his tongue along his fangs, licking off traces of the human’s blood.  “You should drink.  It has been many nights.  There are many who would willingly bare their throats for you, human and vampire alike.  With this growing cult, none of our coven will ever thirst.”

“And our coven will grow weak for it,” Michael said with a growl.  “Blood willingly given is blood easily spent.  And the coven rots from within.  Our Blood will grow thin.”

“The weak will not survive,” Draven said encouraging.  “They will wither away like dust in the wind.”

“Always the hopeful one,” Michael said with a wry grin.  “But let us leave.  I am thirsting for the hunt tonight, and I know that our prophet’s blood has only whet your appetite.”

Draven grinned devilishly and disappeared.  Michael eyes followed the Jew for a few moments before he too vanished into the night.







Michael clenched his fists as he woke.  The darker side of him dearly missed the power and sway he had had in those times and knew that should he choose to, he could be that way again.  He shuddered.  It was there so close to the surface.  Everything he was trying to forget was welling up inside of him.  He pushed the memories back.  He was no longer Saint Michael, but the past haunted him.

         He rolled over and the red numbers on the clock glared accusingly at him.  2:00 am.  Michael sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  Straightening his shirt slightly, he disappeared to his favorite haunt in New York.  The back alleys housed homeless who were always able to spare a few drops, whether they wanted to or not.

         Michael lay on his bed waiting for morning to come.  He had his hands behind his head and was staring at the ceiling.  His mind followed the mortal’s blood as it coursed through his veins—out through his arms, into his fingers, back to the heart, down his legs, back to his heart, up to his head, back to his heart.  Always the heart.  The only place where you could truly kill a vampire.  He felt his chest move up and down with each breath.  His shirt was tossed over the rail in the bathroom drying.  Blood could only be washed out by hand.  He should have known better than to wear white, but he was too distracted.

         Michael, he heard whispered in his head.  He saw flashes of a human girl.  Her blond hair wild, and her head tipped back to reveal her white throat.  He saw a nail being drawn across her throat.  Her eyes stared listlessly upward as blood began to trail in little rivers down unto her white blouse.  He felt himself bend over and lick away the blood.  Michael’s body trembled at the taste.  He craved more.  He felt himself descend on the girl, and his lips thirstily traveled along her throat.  He could feel the blood coursing through him.  It rushed through him filling every vein to capacity.  Michael hadn’t had this much blood in ages.  He felt himself pull away just before her last heart beat.  Michael looked up into a mirror and into the smiling eyes of Draven.  Michael rolled over and vomited blood over the side of the bed.  The foamy, crimson liquid glistened against the white carpeting beckoning to Michael, who hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  He rolled back over on the bed, panting at the effort the vision had taken out of him and the lack of blood in his system.

         “Why?” Michael almost sobbed to the air.  He was so exhausted that he couldn’t even raise his hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead.  Michael felt a corner of the bed lower slightly and moved his head to see Draven seated there.  His scornful smile was gone, replaced by a look so full of sorrow that it almost made Michael cry.  Draven stretched out next to Michael’s long form and lay there for a moment without speaking.

         Draven sighed and used his shirtsleeve to wipe Michael’s face.  “Because you deserve better.  You are so weak.”

         “You made me this,” Michael said gathering his strength and pulling himself upright.

         Draven gently stuffed a pillow behind Michael’s back.  “No.  I did not.  You do this to yourself.  You are as weak as a fledgling.  Do humans really mean this much to you that you would kill yourself for them?”

         Michael sighed and pushed away the hand that Draven was using to wipe the blood from Michael’s mouth.  “No,” Michael said thoughtfully.  “I would not die for them, but…”

         “Then come hunt with me,” Draven said imploringly.  “Hunt together like we used to.  Just the two of us.  Like that night in Rome.  You were the terror of every city, and I followed in your wake.”

         Michael tried to leave the bed.  He tried to flee from the memories that were aroused by Draven’s plea, memories of golden goblets of blood, of small stone rooms, of the heat of a human body, but his legs gave out and he fell back against the bed.  His hand flew to his heart as it tried to pump nonexistent blood through his veins.  Draven sighed and pulled Michael to him.  He wrapped his arms around his master and laid Michael’s head on his shoulder.

         “If you will not drink from humans,” Draven said pulling Michael closer to him, “take from me instead.”

         Michael could feel the warmth of Draven’s skin against his cheek and through his bare skin as Draven’s arms wrapped tighter around him.  Michael wound his arms around Draven’s back and gently tipped back Draven’s head.  He felt the slight resistance as his fangs pierced the soft skin, and he felt Draven’s body arch against his as his blood was drawn out, but then he wasn’t feeling anything but the blood lust.  His vision went completely red in torrents of blood.  His body ached for it and he groaned against Draven’s neck.  Two pinpricks broke into his awareness as Draven’s fangs punctured his throat.  He could feel the circling of blood enter his body and passing into Draven.  The pleasure of the hunter and the prey consumed the two.  Michael’s body shook at ecstasy it had not experienced in centuries, and he pulled Draven closer until he felt his nails biting into the skin on Draven’s back.  Michael turned his head away as the rapture overwhelmed him.  Draven gently licked away the drops of blood that had escaped his kiss and drifted down Michael’s chest.  Michael’s breath came in short, ragged gasps as he sought to control his desires.

         “Don’t control it,” Draven whispered in his ear.  “Embrace it.”

         “No.  I can’t,” Michael whispered grimacing at the pain of his attempt to control the lust.

         With a cry of disgust, Draven pushed Michael away from him and disappeared.  Michael lay where he had fallen, staring at the ceiling.  Blood willingly given is blood easily spent.  Michael’s thoughts echoed through his mind.  The weak will not survive….If you love them so much…take from me…Drink of my blood…do you enjoy…why…

         Through the swirl of his thoughts, Michael had the presence of mind to glance at the clock and groaned as he saw the 7 blaring at him.  School started in an hour.  He rolled off the bed and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom.  Draven’s blood had revitalized him, but it left him disgusted with himself.  He stripped off what was left of his clothing and stepped into the shower.  He turned on the scalding water and scrubbed until his skin was raw.  When he felt relatively clean, he pulled open the curtain.  He was met by his reflection in the mirror.  He examined the marks on his neck, and it was almost enough to make him retch.  Pulling on clean clothes, he grabbed his books and started the agonizing walk to school.







         Lana had called her grandmother that night, but she had had no new instructions for her.  “Just observe him for the moment,” was all she had said.  Being around vampires was bad enough, but it was making Nicole edgy.  If she caught Michael putting one toe out of bounds he would be dead.  It was up to Lana to be the peacemaker, which was not something she was prepared to do, seeing as she was a hunter herself and had no reservations about killing.  But when a senior councilmember of the Assembly gave an order it was followed, and Lana could do nothing but watch and hope that Anne had given Nicole the same orders.

         Lana sat behind Michael, who was turned around in his seat to talk to the two girls.  At the moment he was listening to Nicole rant about her English teacher.  He didn’t look as pale today as yesterday.  Lana wondered where he was getting the blood.  She knew animal blood could sustain a vampire, but not for long.  Eventually they would need human blood just to remain living, if you could call them that.

         “And just because a giant rat gave her an award does not make her a good teacher.  Right, Lana?” Nicole said, looking expectantly at Lana.

         “Right,” Lana said, completely oblivious to the conversation.

         “You feeling alright?” Nicole asked.  “You’ve been out of it since school started.”

         “I’m fine,” Lana answered.  “I’m just tired.”  She punctuated the last remark with a yawn.  Michael raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

         “Look who’s up next,” Nicole said pointing to the stage.

         The three watched as a tall, tan boy walked up on stage.  He stepped into the spotlight, and Michael instantly recognized the dark hair and sarcastic smile.  Draven stood on the stage staring straight at Michael with his cocky, defiant grin.

         Now there is nowhere you can go to escape me, Michael heard as Draven began to read his part.  Michael closed his eyes to the images of last night that began to swim before them.

         “Wow.  He’s good,” Lana whispered afraid to break the spell of his voice.

         “He’ll make lead for sure,” Nicole agreed.

         The benefits of a classical education, Draven said to Michael as he walked off the stage.

         It’s going to be a long week, Michael thought to himself.







         Michael fell across the couch that Friday exhausted.  He closed his eyes and willed his muscles to relax.  He felt a cold hand brush his cheek and opened his eyes to see Ari kneeling beside him.

         “Enjoying high school?” she asked smiling as she sat on the coffee table.

         “Draven has used me again,” Michael said sitting up.  “He lives to haunt me.  My blood now flows in his veins.  Not the original, but the ancient blood.  He can walk in daylight now.”

         Ari’s eyes widened as she caught glimpses of that night from Michael’s mind.  “Surely by now he warrants death,” she said vehemently.

         “No,” Michael said.  “He’s just misguided.  There must be some way to bring back what he was.”

         “What he was was worse than he is now,” Ari reminded him.  “He has never been an angel.  He was the right hand of the devil and misses that, but he can’t find a way to replace you.”

         Michael sighed and fell back against the couch.  “Then what can I do?”

         “Stop trying to change me,” Draven whispered in his ear.  Ari vanished instantly, and Michael jumped to his feet.  “Is this how you feel all the time?” Draven asked flexing his hand.  Michael’s eyes followed Draven suspiciously as he walked around the room, opening cupboards and glancing into rooms.  “Nice.  Very nice.  I didn’t get to see much of it the last time I was here.”

         “What do you want, Draven?” Michael asked through clenched teeth.

         “Two bedrooms,” he said sticking his head around a corner.  “I need a place to stay for a while.”

         “Why would I welcome you?  I don’t like being used, Draven,” Michael said crossing the room and pulling the door closed.  Draven barely missed having his fingers slammed in it.

         “I thought you would be more accepting after all that,” Draven said sitting heavily on the couch.  “I opened myself to you, and you acknowledged it.  And I will admit that I might have overstepped my boundaries, but you could have stopped me if you had wanted to.  I have no regrets.  I just gave you what you wanted.”

         “Get out,” Michael said darkly, baring his fangs and taking a menacing step forward.

         “As my master commands.”  Draven bowed and disappeared.

         “I’m going to regret that night for the rest of my immortal life,” Michael said under his breath.







         School became a war for Michael.  It was a war against himself, against Draven, and against the blood lust.  Just as a bit of Michael had transferred to Draven so had some of Draven entered Michael.  And the unrestrained thirst Draven flaunted was tearing Michael up inside.  School was becoming one of the circles of Hell for Michael.  He was Tantalus trapped in an Erebus of his own invention.  By now he was stealing blood every night, but it wasn’t enough, and every day Michael went to school to be tortured by the mortals there.  Every arm that brushed his left his skin tingling.  Sometimes he would find himself staring at the blood rushing through Lana’s veins, and not hear a word she had said.  Last block had become the worst, though.

         “Something’s up with Michael,” Nicole said pulling Lana into a corner backstage where they couldn’t be overheard.

         “I know,” Lana said.  “I’ve noticed too, but if he’s still here, it can’t be that bad.  Maybe it’s all the sunlight.”

         “Listen.  I’ve talked to some of my sources and those that didn’t run off were terrified.  The name Michael has made a lot of enemies, not to mention some gruesome tales.”  Nicole shuddered.  “I’ve heard rumors about a secret cult, human sacrifices, all kinds of nasty stuff.  On the flip side, though, it sounds like he hasn’t touched a human in centuries.”

         “There you go.  Maybe that’s why the Assembly is hesitating.”

         “I don’t know,” Nicole said shaking her head.  “Maybe, but something is up with Michael.  I’ve heard the name Draven whispered around too.  Usually right behind Michael’s.”

         “Draven maybe, but not Michael.”

         “Why not?  You’ve got to listen to me.  We are both members of the Assembly.  We both pledged our lives to protect the innocent.  If the Assembly isn’t going to take action, we should.  The worst that could happen is a slap on the wrist.”

         “And exile.  The Assembly will not like its rules being broken.  Good intentions or no.”  Lana shook her head.  “The only vampires I have ever killed were drinking.  I won’t kill on a suspicion.”

         “Why are you defending him?” Nicole asked angrily.

         “I’m not,” Lana defended.  “But I will not go against the will of the Assembly.”

         “Fine, but if I catch him, my knife will be quicker than even he can dodge.”  Nicole stalked off as the bell rang.  Lana watched her go and saw Michael wave to her as he left the auditorium.  She didn’t wave back, but quickly grabbed her backpack and decided to follow him.