Maxim Darko: The Greatest Gift of Evil. A Vampire Chronicle

CHAPTER FOUR THE DEVIL'S NUN

During the early morning hours following the first burnings, Maxim detected a scurrying motion next to him. In one swift movement, his arm flew out, and snatched a rat from the depths of the straw. He woke his cousins, Ziga, Samar, and Jaka, to share in the meager feeding. While the four cousins were quietly sharing the vile creature's blood, the vermin let out a final death squeal. The noise woke two other child beasts. Smelling the blood, they lunged at Maxim in a crazed attempt to steal the rat. Maxim swiftly rolled onto his back and kicked the first child beast in the chest. The child beast fell back against the wall and collapsed to the floor. Ziga, and Samar lunged to meet the second child beast. In his weakened state, he was no match for the cousins. Acting on instinct, Ziga, and Samar sunk their extended razor-sharp teeth into both sides of the scale covered flesh of his neck.

Before the other child beast could recover, Maxim, and Jaka had jumped on top of him, and began feeding. Maxim sucked hard on the jugular vein his neck, while Jaka sucked on the femoral artery in his leg.

For only a few seconds, the defeated child beasts shrieked in pain, then a dark mist crept from their bodies. There was not a trace of cleansed white mist drifting in the air. The dark mists gathered into a cloud, and sunk to the ground, before disappearing between the cracks in the floor. The souls of these two children were condemned to the hell fire...for eternity.

When the four cousins had sucked the last drop of blood from the dead child beasts, they buried themselves in the straw, and fell into a deep sleep.

In a nearby building, Father Zlata shivered in his sleep. The dark dreams haunting his mind disturbed his sleep. Slowly he opened his eyes and was momentarily confused. Yesterday's events seemed like a bad dream. Part of his mind was blanketed in fog. A pleasant scent drifted into his nose. He tried to sit up, but a pain in his back forced him to stop. Even though he had no visible wounds, he felt bruised and battered. Physically, and emotionally bruised. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light, and realized he was still in the church. Last night someone had wrapped him in blankets and had lain him at the foot of the altar. When his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see the source of the pleasant odor. Steam was drifting out of a bubbling cast iron pot, which was hanging over some coals in the center fire pit.

Seeing that her patient was awake, the village healer hurried to his side with a wooden bowl of hot broth. After drinking half of the bowl, he asked. "What time is it Daughter?"

"Early morning Father."

"But it is so dark," he stated with confusion.

The healer's fingers moved rapidly as she crossed herself. "The Devil's Nun...Svetva her dark clouds still cover the sky. The wind has stopped." The healer began to sob. "But the evil clouds. They do not move. It as if the sky has frozen like a pond in winter. Nothing moves."

Father Zlata tried to sit up. The exertion proved too much for his weakened body. He fell back onto the blankets. An uncontrollable coughing fit convulsed his body. Dark red blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. He touched the corner of his mouth and stared at the blood on his fingertips in disbelief. For the first time that morning, he looked at his clothes, they were damp and covered with a light coat of mud. Suddenly, Father Zlata was overcome by a fit of weakness. "Daughter...I do not know if I can complete this task. I do not know if I am strong enough."

She laid the Priest's head on her lap to calm him. In a comforting gesture, she wiped the blood from his check with her robe. The healer gathered her wits before speaking. She knew her words could save the village. "Drink Father. You are our only hope. You must be strong. The Lord will give you strength to complete your duties to your flock."

Father Zlata drank the broth. "More," he said, just before a coughing fit racked his body. He threw up the liquid. Before refilling the bowl, the healer cleaned the vomit from his face. Gently, she fed Father Zlata more of the broth. This time, he managed to keep it down. With a raspy voice, he said. "The Devil's Nun. I must weaken her before the burning. Tell the guards that she is to remain in her cage, until the sun is at its highest point. Then...then she will pay." With his energy slowly returning, Father Zlata spoke with holy conviction. "The Lord will make her pay for her evil deed."