Blood Rite (A Vampire Story)

3. Our Lady Immaculate

There was an irony in his crossing this particular threshold.

He was a walking bastardisation of everything this building stood for. Its very existence was based on the assumption that his kind should not be able to freely walk the earth, that God cleanses and protects. Supposedly those that serve the Devil could never enter a catholic church, yet here he was, his feet echoing through the steeples of Our Lady Immaculate. Not that he served the Devil. He served his Queen.

Semantics, he supposed.

As his eyes swept across some biblical affirmation that claimed "We Are All Gods Creatures", he held back a snort of derision, an elegant, easy grin spreading across his face. Hands in his pockets, he walked the aisle imagining the pews filled with every person he'd fed upon. Some he saw angry, filled with irrevocable rage. Others yearned for his closeness still enthralled by his immortal kiss. All were beneath him. All were Gods creatures... but not him.

The warm glow of candle light threw shadows across three figures. One taller and broader than the others who seemed to be holding someone still as they knelt. Marcus then, he presumed. The males familiar scent wafted towards him masked somewhat by the incense and the candles, but it was his. Fresh like salt-water and a sea-breeze.

The other scent he picked up was most definitely his Queen; Like jasmine and roses and honey all held over a flame. Intoxicating and potent, generally cloying. It wasn't unpleasant, quite the opposite, though it stuck to a room. To clothes. To everything. She overpowered the senses in almost every way. The incense hadn't cut through her scent at all.

The final scent was mortal, like sweat and soap and skin. Most likely a priest. Judging by his current position, he'd be meeting his maker somewhat sooner than he'd likely anticipated.

His Queen was stood by an altar of votive candles, her back completely turned to him. Her raven hair fell evenly down her back in a perfectly coiffed fashion of mid-century waves beneath a grey fascinator. Immaculate indeed.

As he approached, she spoke, her voice languid and silken. Haunting. "I'm pleased you've joined us, Felix. We were waiting." She turned from the votive to cast her gaze upon him. A gaze as arresting and mythical as his own with eyes like quicksilver bathed in moonlight. "You look positively wretched, dear Cousin." She cooed extending a hand gloved in grey velvet, those eyes watching his every move like a jungle cat.

Obliging, he took her hand and rested a kiss upon it, his head bowed a second longer as he whispered, "Majesty." As he stood, he was a good head or so taller, yet under her scrutiny, he felt hopelessly small. It had been that way since he could remember, even before he had to address her in such a manner. Angelica had been born a Queen and would be ill suited to anything else.

Seemingly satisfied with his show of deference, her eyes softened slightly and he knew his lateness was forgiven. She didn't want his apology, despised them in fact. She wanted his surrender. He gave it willingly, already knowing the rules of this game.

Her hand dropped from his to settle back against the small clutch she held against her pale grey coat. "It appears that yet again, we are affronted by a familiar enemy." Felix had heard the heartbeat of the priest as he had entered the church. It was quick, fearful. As his cousin spoke, it quickened yet again, his breathing shallow and laboured, the smell of saline drifting in the air. Tears. The mortal was crying.

Felix knew better than to interrupt as her heels clicked across the flagstone. She was making her way over slower than she could have. It was all part of the hunt, to have her preys heart beating as fast as it could so it hadn't the time to slow before it realised it had already emptied itself. The thrill of a quick kill she saved for moments like this when she desired only to feed and not to luxuriate herself with any other pleasure. In that instance where you'd prefer to enjoy the kill a while longer, you wanted the heart slower, steadier, less afraid.