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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Fantasy · #1710112
Over two hundred years of being a vampire, this former priest is in turmoil.
It had been a long night.  Stefan stood by the fire, burning the slain body of his last victim.  As the vampire’s remains burned, he began to pray.  It was the last rights.  The vampire had been a man once.  Even this evil creature’s soul deserved God’s ear.

True, Stefan hadn’t been a priest in over two hundred years.  Pure evil stole that from him in 1808.  A few drops of blood had robbed Stefan of light, of religion and of peace.  To make matters worse, he was given the task of executing the lawless, the murders the out of control young vampires, by the Order.  No one else could be in charge of the task.  He was the oldest and he had a moral compass, at least he tried to.  Still, somewhere inside the vampire, the priest still struggled to get out.  He still believed, even after two centuries of dark, that light existed.  He had to believe the Holy Father would listen.

Blood red tears streamed down his face as he begged for his own death, an end to the psychological warfare inside him.  He heard shuffling behind him, and he spun in a blur that only a vampire can create.  It was servants. The poor terrified servants had witnessed Stefan murder the man who had terrorized them.  Stefan immediately wiped his eyes.  The blood streaming down his face was not serving to steady these weary souls. 

“Sssir?” an old lady stuttered, “have you come to save us?”  How on earth could he answer that question?  The only difference between him, and the burning body, was that he exercised control.

“I have been sent by the order to execute your master.  He will not harm you any longer.”  Poor fragile humans, they stood no chance surviving with this man as their master.  “Now tell me, did he have a Will?”

“No, he never left a Will.  He thought he was going to live forever,” a young beautiful housemaid stepped forward, whispering and shaking.

“You need not fear me.  The only person I intended to murder is burning right here.  I am very old and have control.  Now tell me, did your master have any children, any relatives?”  Stefan tried to be as soothing as he could.  He could hear their thoughts screaming at him.  Every servant in the house was terrified beyond comprehension, poor souls.  Murder, rape, beatings, who could do such a thing?

“There is no heir,” she said, speaking louder this time.  She stepped forward and extended her hand.  “I’m Angelina.  You’re the Priest.”

“The Priest?” he asked.

“You’re the priest that was turned into a vampire long ago.  I’ve heard about you.  HE,” she yelled at the burning pile, “was warned you’d come.”  Stefan could hear her thoughts quite clearly.  I’m not afraid of you.  You’re a good man, I can feel it.  Creepy, sure, handsome, definitely but you are not evil. 

“Yes, I am he.  You can call me Stefan.  I will need to stay here for a few days while I sort out the estate.  That is part of my duty, as the Order will not stand for pilfering.  Now, as part of full disclosure, I will tell you that I can hear your thoughts.”  Angelina immediately blushed and stepped back.  “So please, if you want to keep thing private, please hum a tune in your head.  That will clear your mind and not overwhelm me with trying to ignore what I hear.”  See, good man.

“You may stay in the master’s quarters.  Obviously, they are fit for a vampire,” Angelina said again.  Stefan winced.  He loathed being referred to as a vampire.  Two centuries had not changed his disgust for what he became.

“Very well, who here tends to the livestock?” he asked.

“He does, but he doesn’t speak English.  What do you need?” Angelina asked. 

“Blood, about two pints a day should suffice,” he replied.  Mary, the large red head spun around and shouted orders to the old man in another language.  Animal blood, interesting, I thought vampires hated that stuff.

“Sorry,” Angelina blushed again.

Stefan stepped close to Angelina, he could hear her heart beating faster and he could smell her arousal.  “I prefer human blood, but as I have no partner at this time, I shall sustain on the blood of the livestock.  There is no need to be uncivilized, don’t you think?  Try a nursery rhyme; really, you are embarrassing us both.”  Angelina finally inhaled.

“Com’ wit me sir, I shall show ya’ ta’ yer quarters,” Mary said, grabbing Stefan’s arm.  He was quite taken back with how trusting the servants were.  He could hear in their thoughts that they were grateful their treacherous master was dead, but really, as humans they should not be so accepting of vampires.  Fortunate for them that Stefan never took advantage of the mistrust humans put in him, after they learned he was the priest.  Lesser vampires would have used this to their advantage.

“Thank you ma’am,” he continued as he followed her.  “My traveling companion will arrive after the sun rises.”

“The sun!  Blimey I thought you critters couldn’t run around in the daylight.”  Mary said as she huffed.

“She’s a half-breed, and I consider her my child.  I want her to be treated with respect, do you understand?” he asked.  Mary nodded.  “Please let the others know.  Flora won’t be hard to spot.  She is very unique.”  This frightened Mary, but she told herself to trust the man.  He had just saved them.

Arriving at the master’s quarters, Mary showed the priest around the room, finally leaving him to rest as the sun rose.  The staff swarmed about, half of them scared out of their wits and the other half, simply relieved the evil was out of the castle.  Angelina tried to retire to bed for the evening.  Unable to rest, she went to the dungeons.  The family lineage was all right there.  She piled up the books and heaved them all the way up to the small library.  She imagined the priest appreciated warm cozy places as opposed to the large dreary ones.  To her, it made him more human.

Angelina instructed those servants who were awake to get their chores done as quickly as possible and to get some rest before sundown.  As promised, Flora had arrived and although Angelina had not seen her, she had heard about how different the woman was.  Her hair changed colors.  She drank tea.  Curiosity about Flora was trumped by sheer exhaustion and Angelina finally collapsed in her bed.



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