Scroll 01: An Unholy Blessing
Vicente walked cautiously down the darkened street. It had stormed but a few hours before leaving evidence of puddles, a dampened color to the stone path and an eerie chill in the air.
He exhaled sharply, thinking about all that he had read about his God, righteousness, sin, heaven, hell, demons, angels, judgment and the consequences of his unholy actions. He didn’t normally like to focus his mind on work, but anything was better than the legend of the unholy vampire walking the streets of London.
A walking corpse that feeds on the light of the living and is harmed by the power of God’s ruling and might. He shuddered at the thought, subconsciously clutching his Bible as he turned a corner.
He glanced up at a swiftly moving shadowed figure, cocking his head curiously. His accent heavy he remarked, “That man seems a bit odd…”
Vicente shook off his morbid curiosity and ignored the fog that settled in behind him, creeping along the surface of the road. Reluctantly, his mind wandered back to the ways a vampire is created: a shallow grave, a witch’s meddling, being bitten by a vampire, being sent back from hell…those were a few theories that the minister had discussed in the mass a few hours prior.
Following the “birth” of a vampire, Vicente thought of the telltale signs of being infected with vampirism. They were acute senses, sensitivity to the sunlight, unable to trespass on holy ground or touch holy objects, being active at night…craving blood….
He shuddered at the thought of his fellow townspeople being ravenous animals, blood-thirsty and ruthless. He turned quickly to a clatter behind him, jumping a little in surprise. He grasped the Bible again, compelled for some reason to clutch his cross pendant that was passed from his father to him.
He continued walking forward, on his guard and untrusting of the horrors the night could conceal. Instead of ignoring instincts, quelling curiosity became Vicente’s priority. He pushed open a warehouse door, cringing as the door creaked and squealed a cacophony until it stopped moving. His curiosity was disappointed as his movements simply kicked up some dust and a displeasing odor. Nothing but darkness, a few critters and rodents and dirt scattered on the floor of the abandoned warehouse.
A sharp noise sounded, making Vicente flinch. “What the…” he defensively placed his hands over his ears, dropping his Bible. “Gah…” he leaned downward to retrieve his book when the footsteps of another caught his attention. He turned his head slightly only catching the glimpse of a silhouette before being stuck down. He gasped as a sharp pain hit his neck, and groaned as his dead weight hit the ground. A burning sensation based in his neck started spreading throughout his body. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to deal with the pain that intensified.
A woman’s voice, more sultry than his virgin ears had ever heard caught his attention. “Ah, the pretty altar boy…”
“W-what?” Vicente asked, struggling against the pain.
“Your beauty shall live on…” she said, stroking Vicente’s hair.
Vicente’s eyes shot open, “What did you do to me?!”
“You’re one of us…the walking dead…”
“A vampire…” he muttered, realizing the transformation as the searing pain he was experiencing. He reached for the Bible that was flung a few feet from him. He crawled toward it, clutching it desperately.
“You turn to the one who has turned on you?”
“My God would never leave me…” Vicente snapped, clutching the good book and his crucifix necklace. “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven give us this day our daily bread and forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil for thine is the kingdom the power and the glory forever and ever…amen.”
The vampyric woman hissed at Vicente’s Doxology. She threw a black cloth at her newest creation, “A good holy boy like you knows that suicide is a one-way ticket to hell…”
“The unforgiven sin…” Vicente nodded, embracing the pain he was enduring.
“That cloth is the only thing that can protect your sensitive skin from the wicked sun’s rays,” she said before disappearing into the fog of the night.
Vicente quickly tied the black cloth around his wrist. He knew what would make him die and intentionally not preventing it was suicide…against his God and his faith. He swallowed hard as another jolt of pain coursed through his body, throwing him flat on the ground.
Again, the ravenous female vampire was on his weakened form as he fell to the ground again. Vicente had expected to be left in misery, to writhe unseen or heard by anybody...but she stayed there. She continued sucking on the puncture wound she had caused until she was past sated.
Vicente couldn’t move, could only deal with the gross sensation of the vile she-demon drawing life from him. As much as he wanted everything to be over with it drew on and on…her feasting and stroking his features flirtatiously, him wanting him or her to die so at least one of the tortures were no longer ongoing…
With a final stroke to her new creation’s hair she stood and turned to face him before leaving in the light of the breaking dawn, “Congratulations on finding my coven’s home…and welcome to the family Vicente.” With that she was just an Irish immigrant in the streets of London ready to barter some goods.
Vampire Heart 2