September~
Father in Heaven, I fear that I might be too late to save the soul of one most precious to me. It seems as though the darkness that I fight so hard to vanquish, always finds a way to worm its ebony tendrils around those dearest to me. First my parents, then the boy who I had taken in as a brother and now her. Have we all not suffered enough? Must you make me suffer further? Is there a lesson I still must learn?!
Lord, my dearly beloved has begun her descent down into the arms of Lucifer. It is not her choosing Almighty, but a happenstance of her damned birth- she is but a victim of fate. I speak of my Catherine. My very reason for breathing. My reason for continuing through this gruesome masquerade we call life.
Father, she has begun to dream. These night terrors that plague her mind are not of this world, I fear they are far more sinister. Originally, I thought nothing of these nightmares. Naively I assumed that this phantasm in Catherine's mind was just a projection of her inner, sinful, desires- one that might be taken with devout prayer to you. She is a righteous woman- why do you make her bear this burden alone?
Despite all her prayers and anointing her with holy oils, the dreams continue. The frequency and details are too uncanny for them to be just simple projections of her innermost wants, I know this for a fact. She has described a man's features, features that belong to one steeped in blackest sins. I know who she speaks of and fear that he has already corrupted her innocence past what can be absolved. This man. No, this monster hiding in the guise of an angel has set his sights on my reason for existing and I fear his claws have already sunken in too deeply.
He and all his kin deserve to die.
These dreams of which I speak, often wake my beloved from a dead sleep. I've watched her late into the night and have seen how she awakens, gasping for breath as she clutches her throat where his teeth have pierced into her. Not surprisingly, Catherine found herself afraid to close her eyes from the terror that the angel in her dreams will drag her down into the pits. Eventually, she pushed herself to such an extreme that she believed slumbering during the daylight hours and waking at dusk would keep her mind from recreating these vivid nightmares.
She was mistaken.
Eventually, she confided in me the intimate details as I had only known she was plagued. These next words written are words directly from my Catherine's lips.
Catherine:
Each night I begin falling. I am not afraid, in fact, I feel weightless as I descend into the unknown- I am comfortable in this endless darkness. In my dream, I awaken slowly beneath a full crimson moon high above me. I know I've never seen a moon of such sinister shade before but a sense of familiarity fills me. I realize as my senses awaken that I am laying on a cold stone altar, dressed in a fine white gossamer nightgown, pristine in comparison to the bloody moon above my head. I will myself to sit, to take in my alien surroundings- despite the ache in my bones.
My eyes see hundreds of wild red rose as they snake and weave their way around the ancient stones beneath me. Amidst the roses are thorns. They threatening to bite into my alabaster flesh if I should move- I know I am safe on the cold stone beneath me. To my East, I see an expansive forest, shrouded in thick billowing fog which hovers low amongst the ancient trees which are covered in thick moss. It resembles that of an old man's beard.
To my South looms a foreboding castle, shrouded in ominous black clouds that give way to brilliant streaks of white lightning. Blinking torches light up the tall windows, illuminating apparitions who roam the halls. I know I should fear this place but I can hear the soft trill of a music box. I can not recall the tune but if I were to hear it in the waking world, I would know it. This siren's song beckons me closer but I dare not move for fear that the thorns winding around where I lay will not allow me to leave.
Immediately in front of me sits a quiet graveyard filled with tombstones. The writing I can never make out, no matter how hard I strain my eyes. Yet the grave markers are not what draw the eyes. In the center of the grand graveyard, a weeping angel outstretches his arms to me. His lamenting expression beckoning me and I feel drawn to him. I can almost hear the stone whispering "Come closer and let me fold you into my arms."
As I stare at the stone figure, entranced, a ghostly voice that's carried on the bitterly cold wind whispers my name. At first, I can not pinpoint the source of the voice. I search frantically as it calls to me but no matter my searching, I am left still wondering. Deep down I know I will hear it again and so I wait patiently. Then, as if summoned by a prayer I did not utter, the voice comes again, but louder, far clearer. The only way I can describe the proximity is, it is as if a lover leans over your shoulder and whispers tender nothings against your flesh. Instantly I turn my gaze once more to the sorrowful angel but he has changed and my heart races with foreign excitement. My angel has been made flesh. The pallor of the stone did his beauty no justice. The majority of his body is exposed, save for a flowing black shroud draped over him like the angels painted on the ceilings of grand churches. I am surprised but in awe as a heavenly golden glow, beings to radiate from his creamy skin. On his back, great black wings stretch out behind him for what looks like miles. I imagine myself running my palms and fingers over the silky plumage but I am brought back to my reality when I hear his voice clearly. I am compelled to reach for him.
His voice is like a spell. It caresses my ears gently and no matter how I might cover them or close my eyes and demand I wake, I find myself unable to resist. My body is not my own. I begin to move from the stone slab beneath me but the thorns tear into my flesh. My white gown colors with my blood even as the living vines wrap violently around my hands, my wrists and my legs- demanding I stay; pain my motivation. I swear I can hear them pleading with me to remain, that the heavenly denizen is not as he appears.
But despite the grim warning, I struggle because something unspoken is compelling my feet to take a step forward. Again the roses and thorns deny me. The pain radiates through me and I softly begin to weep. I know that without the angel's loving embrace I shall surely perish. With trembling hands I reach out for my angel, pleading with a silent voice to break me free of my bondage.
Then he moves- my plea gives him strength. Gracefully, like water flowing gently over the shores and smooth stones, he floats from his pedestal. The world around us falls away, leaving only my stone bed, the binding roses, my angel and me. He crosses the darkness, bringing his otherworldly light as it radiates off of him. He is the sun and I am the withering flower.
He is beautiful. Beyond what words might ever be able to describe, he is lovely. As I reach for him, he reaches for me. It is then that our fingertips touch and I feel new life breathed into my lungs, having been completely unaware that the thorns have taken the very breath from me. My angel pulls me close to him, vanquishing the thorns and the beautiful roses yet I am saddened by their death. The feeling is fleeting though as I am now beside my angel.
Speechlessly I gaze up into a face that I know I love. My love though is tempered with fear for I know my angel in this dream is my God. He is my salvation. I don't know how I know these things and I don't question how I know. I am content with the knowledge that he is all-powerful. I dare not tempt him to unleash his righteous wrath unto me so I remain ever subservient to his wishes. My only desire at that moment is to please him- no matter his request I know I will obey.
Time seems to stand still in our world of blackness that stretches into forever. Where I have feared the darkness, I feel safe and at home in it beside my God. My angel brushes his fingers against my cheeks, willing me to focus only on his divine features. His thumb collects my fallen tears and I think nothing when he lifts his solid finger to his lips and tastes them. Then he touches my weeping wounds. I am ashamed to have solid his fingers with my unworthy blood and before words can express my shame, he shakes his head. I speak soundless words and my angel smiles. The smile frightens me for, despite his divine beauty and loving touch, my humanity screams danger. There is a Devil hidden behind his kindness. It is a devil that desires to consume me, all of me until there is absolutely nothing left.
I can't speak at this and even when I try to form words, it is then that my angel kisses my cheek. I am reminded of when Judas kissed the cheek of Christ before his betrayal. Yet, unlike the tales of Judas and his deceit, when he withdraws, blood red tears stain his marble smooth flesh. I am compelled to kiss those tears away or to brush them away but my angel stops me, holding me captive. He whispers words I can not hear but I obey regardless. I tilt my head back and expose my throat. The only sound that fills my head is that of my thunderously beating heart. Again my Angel whispers to me, his breath hot across my exposed flesh and I feel myself relax into him completely. I am limp in his arms.
Then there is searing pain. It burns like liquid fire is being injected into my veins but it is fleetingly. Before I wake, I can see myself smiling. I wake shortly after, gasping for breath. The pain is no longer there but my heart still races and my cheeks are wet with tears.
The dream is always the same but sometimes the placement of the castle and the forest change but the thorns, the ancient graveyard and the stone angel being made flesh and the pain... They are always present.'
Dominick lifts his pen briefly from the leather bound journal to glare down at his own messy handwriting contemplatively. Was he truly doing the right thing for the woman he loved? For months she had been plagued with these nightmares and each night when she awoke, it was always the same. She would gasp for breath as if she had been submerged in water, told to hold her breath until her lungs burned or she drowns. Then she would softly wail. Her lamenting muffled only my her long-fingered hands or the wool blanket clutched in those same hands. She would sob until she was once more gasping and the world would go silent again. Sometimes he would hear her begin to recite the Lord's Prayer, while other times she was as silent as death.
Wasn't the only righteous choice to give her the help she needed- by seeking the Elders of their holy covenant? Would the wisest of the remaining humans understand? Or, would they condemn her to death for being a messenger for the Morning Star? It was the thought of losing her forever that had the young warrior angrily throwing his quill to the wayside and his heart once more heavy with dread. For the fifth time that hour, he prayed to the Almighty that his decision did not condemn his beloved to suffer more than she already had.
An aggravated sigh erupts from between the holy man's lips like a ghost finally set free from his chest as he leans back into the makeshift chair. He is resolute in his decision, even despite the overwhelming anxiety eating away at his heart. Catherine was in mortal danger. The warrior of God knew better than most that her dreams were not simple fantasies but a grave warning. Her very mortal soul was at stake and the only people who could protect her from the forces of darkness were the men Dominick would lay his life down for. Silently, the young man, whose chin is covered in dark stubble from hours sitting before candle-light writing, snaps the journal shut. He had to find his beloved and bring her before the Elders.
Wordlessly he swept through the bell tower that had been converted into his personal quarters. It was a modest room: a bed against the far wall where one of the few remaining windows stood tall and intact- just so he could look out during the night and watch the stars above. Beside his unkempt bed sat a small bedside table littered with papers, a worn Bible and a single strand of rosary beads. They had been his mothers and they were the very last remaining shred of her he had left.
They never left his side, save for when he grew tired after sitting at the bedside table pouring over his notes in the hopes of finding out the truth. The truth about their nightly tormentors and a way to rid them from the face of the Earth.
Where once there had been magnificent bells, large and grand, set to ring each morning and each evening after mass, now sat empty and lonesome. They had fallen, been melted down or scrapped to sell for the much needed medical supplies. He spares but a momentary thought for the lost but lingers only a more moment- he has more pressing matters than lamenting over missing church bells.
Silently he moves down a pair of crumbling wooden stairs. The unsightly holes from attacks launched against the still standing monolith, allowed the elements to batter down the once tall vaulted ceilings. Desperately the roof needed to be repaired but with supplies and a workforce in such short supply- there was little he could do save for daydream about things that may never come. Each step he took caused an agonized moan from the weathered wood as he put his full weight down. It would likely not be long until the stairs gave way and sent the righteous man of God, tumbling to his death below. However, the young Brother felt no fear as he descends into the heart of the crumbling church- his mind is elsewhere, occupied only with thoughts of her and of her dreams.
But upon reaching the airy interior, his gaze shifts to the gathered mass of inhabitants. His chocolate gaze searches the melancholy faces of the few remaining free mortals left in their world in the hopes of finding his beloved. Tirelessly he searches the throng of people, hoping to spot her amongst the hustle and bustle of the supper rush.
They, his people, his flock, filled every available space the crumbling church had to offer. Before this Gothic marvel had once stood proud. The ornate stonework of the flying buttresses and sinister gargoyles just outside now was little more than a safe haven. The Brotherhood, those devoted to training their bodies and slaughtering the night creatures, had found this lonely house of worship. Originally their Knight-Commander had deemed it unsafe for the refugees- how could they survive in a place where the floors and walls crumbled and gaping holes exposed the interior of the church to the elements? Dominick had petitioned fervently that they allow the Elders to decide and decide they had. Originally their decision had been a fifty-fifty split until evidence was brought forward that the ground had been, in fact, made hallowed. It was a haven for those looking to hide from their Masters or a place where one might be able to feel safe- if only momentarily.
The memory fades as various chatter echoes through the massive room, drawing his eyes back to his search. All around him he sees the same thing: women wearing hand knitted shawls over a simple cream-colored blouse and a long brown skirt, skitter about to offer food to the elderly and sick first. The men, the majority of them dressed in similar attire, however in lieu of the long modest skirt, they wear wool trousers. Many of their faces are downtrodden, and lines etch deeply into their flesh from countless days and nights of worry. Children, despite the horrors of the world outside their sanctuary, run and play happily.
"There are fewer," the holy knight mutters to himself as he can count a small handful of children dotted throughout the crowd. He begins to silently question where the mass of youth might be but realization strikes him like a bolt- he knows where Catherine is.
She, his light, was gentle of heart and often spent much of her free time, when not trying to heal the sick or wounded, taking care of the orphaned children. She knew better than most what they felt- the lack of a loving touch from their mother’s hand, the sanctuary their father’s hugs offered, and the lullabies that hushed them when their nightmares woke them from sleep. She knew. And it was out of this familiar longing that she fostered them when she could. She would make a good wife, a good mother.
Moving through the crumbling marble hallways, filled with fallen candelabra and chunks of stone, his mind is left to wonder. He has so many questions about the future- questions that only time will answer. Their lives, all who lived beneath the church’s roof, lived with only the promise of that very moment. While Dominick cared for all of his flock, Catherine was his pride and joy. Not knowing the outcome with the Elders made the young brother frightful for her uncertain future.
With another heaved sigh, the young man moves like a shadow through tall arched doorways and past shattered stained glass windows to where he knows his love will be. She’d be in the inner courtyard, sitting amongst the children, allowing their fingers to weave small white and yellow flowers into her flowing raven locks. He had asked her one time why she allowed the children to tug and pull at her fine tresses, and in her gentle way, she said: "Because they need to be children. Allow them to play, to frolic and forget the horrors of the outside world. There is no harm in what they do Dominick. Let them simply be children again, imagining the world is beautiful and safe.'
Her words were sincere and it was that sincerity that cut him to the bone and made him wonder if the horrors of the outside world had changed him into one of the unfeeling monsters he so fervently hunted. It was always her kindness, her way of seeing the goodness where only blackness existed that made him love her so completely.
Silently as he could, he approached the open archway leading into the inner courtyard- the door having long since been ripped from its hinges and set to rest against the opposite wall. Even before entering he could hear the boisterous laughter of children- she had to be there. And there she was. Sitting amongst them like an angel of healing, excitedly gesturing with her hands as she told a small group of children a tall tale.
His approach caused her wide sapphire gaze to flick up towards him and she beamed. As if entranced, the young Brother stopped in his tracks, finding his breath was caught in his throat as she watched him. The children watched her, enraptured until they too turned their attention to the fearsome looking man.
After a small eternity of simply gazing at one another, Dominick clear his throat anxiously, finding his voice much weaker then he intended."Catherine," he greets, dipping his head in a small display of respect.
"Brother Dominick," she responds with a teasing grin that tugs at the corners of her full, pillowy lips. "The Elders must speak with us. Please," he turns to leave, pausing only to look over his shoulder briefly, "follow me."
The children around her begin to fuss, clinging to the only maternal figure they had, begging her not to go. They plead and some resort to false tears. Cruel, manipulative little things Dominick thought darkly as he concealed himself against the wall just outside the doorway, arms tightly folded of his broad chest as he waits impatiently for his beloved to soothe their noisy clamor.
"You know I would not leave you all unless it was important," her disembodied voice cooed gently to them, “I will return when I can. I promise you. In the meantime, see who can make the most flower crowns, the winner could very well receive a special treat." This bargain seemed to be enough to prompt the children to scatter. They moved about the overgrown inner courtyard excitedly, their delicate little fingers plucking up as many of the wildflowers as they could find.
Catherine looked on as the children scurried about, watching how their faces lit up as they picked the common flora. With the children now distracted, busily constructing rudimentary crowns, the young woman stood slowly. Her joints and stiff bones ached, not because of old age but rather because she had simply let time escape her and she'd not known how long she had been sitting in the same position.
Quickly she dusts off her long brown skirt, ensuring that none of the wild grasses or dirt clung to her: she was meeting important people and it was detrimental she looked her absolute best.
Stepping through the threshold, the young woman turns her head to regard her husband-to-be, even as he mumbles something beneath his breath, "I spoil them just as I spoil you." She quips in reply to his muttered response, content to see the surprise spread across his features as he had believed she'd not heard him. "You do spoil them, Catherine," Dominick sighs, pushing himself off the wall to stand beside his love.
"No," she shakes her head and intertwines her fingers with his, "I keep them hopeful and ignorant of the outside world. They have already lost much, they need not lose their innocence too."
The Brother simply sighs, seeing no point in trying to argue the naivety of her statement, "Come, the Elders await to hear from you." The meeting had been scheduled the previous evening, just before the evening Mass. Dominick had gone to the Elders earlier that day, stating that the devout woman was having horrific dreams- sinful dreams and that she needed their aid in ridding herself of. Originally, this had all been unknown to Catherine and when her fiance told her what he had decided without her, the young woman was rightfully furious. When she had first come to Brother Dominick with her frightful dreams, she had begged him to keep the information only between the two of them. She had feared that something malicious was attempting to worm its way into her heart and mind and it was because of this that she feared a confession- Catherine despised the Elders and rightfully so.
It had not been uncommon for the old men, shrouded in their black robes to receive similar cases by innocent men and women with similar concerns. Usually, after determining the likely cause of the confessors' affliction, the Elders played judge, jury and frequently, executioner: often sentencing those afflicted with dark dreams to exile outside the protective walls of the hallowed Church or worse; to be burned at the stake for relations with Lucifer.
However, Dominick had managed to convince his lover that she would be in safe hands, the Elders would know how to soothe her tormented soul and offer her the peace that she so desperately sought. "Did you hear me?" The soft trill of her voice drew the young man from his quiet brooding, "Yes, I did," he lied. Watching her, watch him, he saw her face twist in annoyance, "Then what did I say?"
Quickly he opened his mouth to respond, trying to think of something only his Catherine would say but when his silence expanded longer than she thought appropriate, she sighed and with her free hand, pinched his cheek, "Lying is unfit for a Warrior of God Dominick. What would your fellow knights say about such habits." Gently he pulled his cheek free from her grasp and offered her a genuine smile as they made their way through the church, "That I am human too and I have my faults."
At this, the young woman shook her head, sending her long raven tresses bouncing behind her. The moment passed and a somberness fell over the two as they entered in through another high arching doorway which led them further in. "Do you think they will sentence me to death? For being a witch or giving my soul over to the Father of Lies?" Dominick quickly comes to a stop to regard his beloved, turning her to face him as he speaks, "No, I would never allow them to." There was such conviction in his voice but Catherine sighed, "You are a dog of the church, my love, and when your Masters tell you to bite, you bite. What could one man do against a whole army?" Quickly he opened his mouth to protest but she shook her head, her hand raising to gently cup his rough jaw, "nothing. There would be nothing you could do if the Elders deemed it was safer that I perish."
A muscle began to tick in his jaw at the very thought of losing her- he would suffer hell to keep her safe. She was right though but even with the weight of her words, Dominick would never allow harm to befall her- ever.
Slowly the two descended further down into the belly of the church. Where there had been warm sun and the sound of birds tweeting excitedly, the world around them grew damp, cold and musty. Torchlight illuminated the way down through the hidden catacombs. The walls were lined with the skeletal remains of holy men, their bodies shrouded by thick cobwebs and dust- God only knew how long that this secret crypt had existed. Catherine had never liked coming down to the Elders- why had they decided to hide so deeply beneath the Earth amongst dead saints and priests?
Her question remained both unspoken and unanswered as the two were stopped by twin figures at the entrance doors of the Elders' chamber. "What business have you with the Elders?" One's voice boomed, "We were summoned by the Elders to arrive at supper to discuss a sickness of the mind." Despite being unable to see their faces, the young woman could feel their eyes boring into her as if they were trying to withdraw some hidden agenda even she did not know about. For a moment no one spoke and the soft crackle of fire was their only companion. "You may enter."
The heavy double doors that had barred them from entering opened slowly by unseen forces. Inside was a larger room, circular in shape and similar in all regards to the hidden crypt. Against the far wall, on a platform stood eight men cloaked in black robes. None of their features could be clearly made out from that distance but Catherine could feel their eyes watching her as they drew slowly closer.
When the two had reached the bottom step, both kneeled before the hooded figures and bowed their heads low in a display of respect. "Brother Dominick, you have come to us in search of knowledge for one who you love. You state that she is afflicted with vivid nightmares of an angel who seeks to corrupt her. Is this true?" Croaked a voice directly before them.
Both kept their heads bowed, "Yes," was all the brother said.
No one spoke a word for what felt like another small eternity. Finally, another croaking voice spoke, "Raise your heads and recount this dream, Catherine." Despite their demands, as the young woman opened her mouth to speak, she found she had no voice. Her delicate figure quaked beneath their scrutinizing glares- she was frightened. "Recount your nightmares or we shall be forced to-"
"I've a written document that goes into detail about her dreams your holinesses. Allow this to be her testament." Catherine silently looked towards the bowed head of her lover, wordlessly thanking him for risking himself to protect her.
The eight men say nothing at first, before finally one of them warbles "Produce the written testimony Brother Dominick and we will deliberate whether it is sufficient." From the folds of his robes, the young man withdraws his leatherbound journal and presents it to the mass. For several minutes the men pour over the writings, muttering silently to themselves, leaving the two figures before them wondering what they might be discussing.
Finally, after ten grueling minutes did another ancient voice croak, "Raise Catherine." This time, she did as demanded of her, her hands wringing anxiously in her lap. "You say that your dreams are always the same. That they consist of the graveyard, the roses, and the angel. Is this correct?" She nods but does not speak, "And you say that you fear this angel yet you consider him your God?" Again she nods and swallows hard, "These dreams are frightful child, and to have acknowledged such things is blasphemous."
Catherine swallows hard as she readies herself for a death sentence, "We have agreed that these dreams are a sign from our All Might God in Heaven. Like Joseph, King of Dreams, you have been given insight into a world we can not see. For this reason, you are to be sent into the lion's den and extract information from the enemy. Do you understand what we speak of?" Quickly the woman shook her head and began to open her mouth. Just as she had, Dominick was standing, his hands balled into tight fists. "No! You are not sending her into hell!"
The young woman had absolutely no idea what the Elders spoke of or why Dominick protested passionately about this topic but she feared that she would know soon enough. "She is a woman! A woman with no experience in the field. She's not been trained on any facet of our Order. You are sending an innocent-"
"How truly innocent is she Brother Dominick? In your writing, you yourself state that you fear she has already been corrupted by this Dark Angel. You are blinded by your emotional connection to her, we have decided and our word is final. Catherine, you will be escorted by five warriors of our choosing. Your task is simple. You will infiltrate a powerful house of vampiric aristocracy and learn the secrets of this house. Each new moon you will meet in secret with one of our Order and report back to him your findings. If you are ever exposed, you will subject yourself to whatever torments your body is forced to endure. You will not speak or our Order and you will not expose our location. Is this understood?"
"I-I..." Catherine stammered dumbly as she began to slowly piece together what her task was and just why Dom had objected to the idea so passionately. She had only ever heard the tales told by the Brotherhood, namely Dominick, about the creatures that they hunted. She knew of their treachery, their, quite literally, bloodthirsty ways and it was this limited information that frightened her. Humans, to them, were little more than food- a commodity to buy and sell as they pleased. They, all the inhabitants inside of their crumbling sanctuary, were the last free outcropping of humans within a hundred mile radius in any direction and yet, they were condemning her to a fate worse than death, all because of a dream?!
“Your holinesses, please, reconsider, I’m begging you! Catherine isn’t like us, she knows little of the world, little about our enemies but from tales, tales I’ve told her. Send me in her stead, we can’t-”
“We had considered sending you Brother Dominick but you are well known to our enemy. This woman,” one of them hissed, lifting his hand to jab a bony finger at the trembling woman, “is new to them. Where others have tried and failed, perhaps her unassuming appearance and ignorance will serve her well.”
There was a note of finality in the Elders’ voice and while Dominick intended to fight tooth and nail to dissuade the senile old men in sending his dearly beloved into the arms of the enemy, he knew better than to fight the powers at be. The two bowed their heads in acceptance and without another word, they quietly ascended the winding stone stairs out of the catacombs.
When the warm evening sun caressed their skin as they emerged from the darkness, Dominick looked to his companion to search her face. What he saw instantly had his otherwise icy heart, splintering for his beloved. Silent tears streamed down her pale cheeks as her eyes searched the heavens and her fingers had gone to her neck where she could still feel her angel’s teeth. The fiery Brother said nothing as he extended his arms to her in comfort and took her into a fierce hug- hoping against hope that she might find some solace. However, when he enveloped her in his loving arms, his Catherine began to sob mournfully. She had thought surely the Elders would sentence her to death but this was beyond her worse nightmares- they were sending her into the pit of demons so that they might tear her innocent flesh asunder.
“I won’t let you go,” Dominick whispered into his love’s hair as she sobbed into his robes, tightening his hold on her, “I’ll find a way.” But even Catherine, blindly faithful, could not believe this lie no matter how she wished to. “I am frightened Dominick,” her voice barely above a trembling whisper “I am so frightened.” And she had every reason to be. Dominick knew that even he, after all his extensive training, had been little more than a whimpering child when face to face with the beautiful devils. Yet she, his beautiful, gentle Catherine was expected to fight an enemy she knew little to nothing about.
Life was cruel and in this instance, God was crueler.
Hours ground by as the sun slowly began to descend over the distant blue mountains, painting the skies in hues of fiery orange, yellow and frightening crimson. ‘It looks like blood’ Catherine thought darkly as her azure irises watched the sky mournfully. Dominick had left her alone, allowing her to be alone with her thoughts and collect a few personal belonging. She hadn’t moved from the window seat since he had left her, the black and white rosary beads he always carried, sat in her hands as her long digits fingered the glass beads anxiously. Would she ever return these to him?
The memory of their brief conversation replayed in her head as she finally tore her gaze away from the sky to look down at the holy necklace wrapped around her palm. ‘Take these with you. They have given me strength when I felt only fear. They will protect you and they will be my promise to you that I will come for you as soon as I am able. I will save you. I swear to God I will.’
How she wished in that instant to believe his words, even as fresh tears ran down in her cheeks. If trained warriors like the Brotherhood had not survived vampiric encounters- how would she?
With a shuttering sigh, Catherine turned her face back up towards the ominous looking sky and as she did so, she desperately tried to memorize the way the sun had felt on her skin earlier that afternoon when she had taken it for granted. As she sat there, gnawing at the inside of her cheek until she tasted the sharp coppery flavor of her blood, she wondered if she would ever feel the sun’s gentle kiss on her cheeks or see the sun rise again.
For another ten minutes she was left to her own devices and when the heavy knock at her door made her jump and look towards the noise with wide, wild eyes, she knew it was time for her to leave the only place she had ever called home. Two men walked in, dressed in spotless silver armor, the majority of their faces shrouded by their helmets. “A small garrison awaits to take you to your destination Lady Tepes. We must hurry.”
Swallowing hard, the young woman nodded and rose from the window seat, leaving behind her personal mementos and trinkets- they would do her no good in a world of living nightmares. Instead, she simply slipped the rosary beads over her head and concealed them within the folds of her clothes, grabbing an ebony cloak as she departed her personal quarters for the last time.
Soundlessly, the band of warriors encircle their ward as they descended the stairs to the airy hall, where the massive twin doors to the church stood bared against intruders and monsters alike. Upon entering, the sound of their echoing footsteps filled their ears as they marched towards the church’s exit. A few remaining people stood and watched the procession in curious contemplation, the few remaining children pulling on their parent’s clothes with a thousand question.
There at the door stood Dominick, in his own plated silver armor, his shoulder-length hair swept back into a loose ponytail to keep any stray hairs out of his face. The band stopped and the Knight-Commander, Brother Valentine stepped forward. “You were not chosen by the Elders to escort the woman, Brother Dominick. Return to your quarters or make yourself useful elsewhere.”
The young man’s gaze was set into a cold scowl and when he answered, all were surprised at his defiance. “I will not! Hell be damned if I am to let my fiance walk into the den of dragons, alone. I will face punishment when I return but I will accompany her and there is nothing any of you can do to stop me.”
It was at this that Catherine wove her way through the throng of armor-clad bodies to stand before her love. “Please,” she breathed gently, shaking her head weakly, tears still brimming her fathomless ocean eyes, “I have made my peace with my fate, do not subject me to more torments. I could not willingly walk into hell knowing that the one thing I will continue to live for, was harmed because of me.” The young Brother begins to protest but the dark-haired beauty shakes her head slowly back and forth, “Please Dominick, do this for me.”
The pleading in her tone is enough to make a lesser man crumble to his knees. Reluctantly, the young Knight lifts his hand to where her delicate hands pressed to the side of his face lovingly, “Please be safe,” he whispers, leaning into her to press his forehead against hers. In the silence between them, Dominick drinks in the sweet smell of her perfume, the way her skin feels against his and her warmth. God only knew when he might be able to see her safe again.
“Lady Tepes,” hisses the Knight-Commander, his voice dripping with annoyance at the lover’s farewells, “we must not terry further.” Reluctantly the two stepped away from each other: Catherine back into the throng of armored bodies and Dominick pressed lightly to the threshold of the doors. With a hideous groan, the twin doors that had acted as an effective barrier between the monsters just outside their door and their safe haven opens slowly.
As the band of warriors began to move through the doors, Catherine surrounded by their glittering plate armor, a foreboding feeling settles into the pit of her stomach. She knew, somewhere deep down, that this would be the last time she would look upon her beloved crumbling cathedral and all the people she had come to call family.
For several hours, the band clad in silver and their ward marched through the desolate forests for a destination, unlike anything Catherine had ever seen. The world, as it stood, was devoid of most life. The local flora had overgrown most of the formerly established cities, nature reclaiming what it had always rightfully owned. The fauna had scattered or simply disappeared out of fear. Both predator and prey alike innately knew that the ultimate monster stalked through the world, unrestricted, killing as they pleased.
“You’ve not spoken a word since our leaving Lady Tepes, why so silent?” Brother Valentine’s voice cut through the suffocating silence like a knife through flesh.
“What is there to say that has not already been spoken?” Catherine questioned, keeping her gaze forward as they stalked through the black, misty forest where shadows clawed and creatures watched with mirror-like eyes.
“Perhaps you have questions? Or do you simply agree to go to your death so willingly?” His smug tone had the young woman finally tear her gaze from the swirling mist path to regard the brother with a murderous look. “I did not willingly choose to walk into death’s arms, Brother Valentine. Perhaps you might go in my stead so that I might continue to hide within the safety of the hallowed walls of our Church?”
Valentine simply snorted, “Sharp tongue for one who might die.”
Catherine said nothing more, not even as he continued his childish antics and tried to elicit another response from her.
For another hour they walked, the hour well past midnight when the first lights of a distant home came into view. It stood grand and foreboding- as if it were some hulking monster, quietly breathing and waiting for its next victim to fall into its web. The sight caused all in attendance to halt and look towards the flickering torches and then to the surrounding ‘village’. “That, your highness,” mocked Valentine, “is where you will be residing until we come to fetch you.”
Catherine looked at at the distant home and in the pit of her stomach, she felt a familiarity the likes of which she’d never known- at least in the waking world. “The castle,” she muttered to herself, causing all in attendance to look at her with quizzical glances.
“Beg pardon?” One of the knights finally voices the unspoken question. The answer that they received from the young woman was less than satisfactory, “It’s-” she began, then decided that it was better if she said nothing, “-nothing Brother Alexander.”
Valentine snorted, “Your gracious host is holding a gala. Some of the most powerful monsters in this world will be there Lady Tepes,” he nodded towards the home, “remember, don’t draw attention to yourself. Your precious Dominick isn’t here to save you should you forget your place. Mind your tongue, it could get you into trouble. All has already been arranged with a contact inside- you are to masquerade as a servant beneath the Lord in his household. When we part, go to the back entrance. You will find a fresh pair of clothes and a woman by the name of Anna Marie. She will instruct you further.” Catherine only nodded and swallowed the growing lump of nerves that had closed her throat.
“This is where we leave you,” the kinder voice of Brother Alexander caused the young woman to finally turn her gaze towards him. In return, she nodded and attempted to smile but in the end, all could see that her eyes were wide with terror.
Valentine snorted and turned to leave, the small band of men falling in tow behind him, all but Brother Alexander who remained by his charges’ side. “Listen,” he began, turning to face her and place his armored hands on her shoulders comfortingly, “You’ve got to breath. They will hear your heart. You will be found out before you are even in the presence of the Lord of the Manor and all of this will be for not.” Catherine nodded but found that she couldn’t find her voice- what he suggested was far easier said than done. She had never come into contact with the living nightmares and had only ever heard tales of their cold cruelty; any man in his right mind would be fearful.
It was the gentle touch of Alexander’s fingers that drew her attention back towards his kind face, “The Lord will protect you during this trial. Remember, always have faith in Him and He will guide you through the worst of tribulations.” The young man’s kindness instantly brought Catherine to tears again- she did not want to leave but she knew it was her duty.
The Elders had spoken and their word was final.
Quickly she sniffled and wiped away her tears, her hands still trembling as she reached up to touch the kind boy’s face, “Thank you,” she murmured, “you have been kind. Be safe on your travels home Brother and may God watch over you as well.” The youngest of the Order beamed and nodded, finally turning away to catch up with his company, leaving Catherine to stand alone in the gloom while her heart thundered in her ears- deafening her to the world around her.
For several minutes, she simply stood and gazed at the looming structure, desperately trying to conceal the frantic beating of her heart. A trembling hand lift to clutch the hidden rosary beads concealed beneath her simple blouse. Finally, after whispering the Lord's prayer in the hopes that its familiar words would bring her comfort and clarity, did she begin her slow dirge towards her new home.
Much to Catherine's surprise, just as Brother Valentine had said, an older woman dressed in a long cotton dress and white apron waited. Her hair was piled high up on her head and held back with a simple black pin that glittered beneath the pale moonlight. The closer the young woman drew, did her horror begin to surface- all along the woman's throat and shoulder were hideous scars where the monsters had bitten into her flesh.
"Lovely ain't they?" The crone laughed humorlessly, "Courtesy of the Master's guests and visiting nobility. Say they like the older vintage- better aged." The dark haired woman tore her eyes away from the gruesome scars and bowed her head shamefully, "F-Forgive me," she stammered, "I did not intend to stare."
The older woman shook her head, "If I were in your position, I'd have the same reaction." It was this that caused Catherine to lift her head and offer a weak smile, "T-Thank you."
"No need ta be thankin' me, just tellin' ya it's natural. Although-" she paused, stepping forward, her eyes searching the young woman's exposed throat, "Someone's bound ta notice you've not got the marks. If you're asked, make sure ya lie and say they're elsewhere. Course, might not do ya much good- the Master likes the youngins and ya fit his type. Just keep your head down and don't react to anythin' ya see. Alright?"
Through the entire conversation, Catherine had hardly breathed, even as she took the armful of clothes that Anna Marie had shoved into her arms. "This isn't going to work," she stammered, clenching her hands into fists, "H-He'll notice something is wrong. I-I'm new to this entire world. I-I can't-" her words were silenced quickly by a strong, wrinkled hand clasping tightly around her mouth.
"Now ya listen to me girl, I didn't risk my neck ta have you curl up into a ball. Just follow my lead, alright? I won't let anythin' to bad happen to ya."
The raven-haired woman felt a sense of ease at the matronly woman's words but there had been a phrase that had caught her attention. '...To bad happen to ya.' For the youth, this meant that there would be pain, inescapable pain that might have her sobbing but otherwise alive.
Slowly, the older woman releases her charge and steps back, "Now change into your clothes- been gone too long and some people will notice." Without another word, Anna Marie turns and steps through a back door, which Catherine can see leads into a well-lit kitchen. At first, she thinks nothing of this oddity but as she strips herself of her familiar clothes and shimmies into the fitted servant's dress and starched apron, does she begin to ponder why the beasts would need such a luxury as a kitchen?
She lets the thought fade as she ties back a part of her hair in a satin ribbon and dons the black slippers that had been folded into her clothes. Taking one last slow inhale of the crisp night air does she turn and step through the door which Anna had disappeared into only moments ago.
What she is greeted with are servants everywhere- women like her, dressed in similar attire and men in fine black suits, the likes of which she'd never seen. The tables and countertops are lined with bottles, their contents a mystery. Beside them are several exquisite serving trays. Atop the trays sit glittering crystal goblets and inside of the goblets sit a thick red liquid- it is easy to see that what the glasses hold is not wine. It is this knowledge that has bile rising into Catherine's throat and her hands clutching her stomach in an effort not to vomit.
From beside her, a voice whispers, "You'll get used to it soon love, first-timers usually faint at the sight of all that blood. You're doin' a lot better than I expected. Follow me and stay close." The dark-haired woman does not object and says nothing as she is handed a serving tray- the smell of blood wafting up into her nose, instantly causing her stomach to twist and turn. The two leave the safety of the kitchen and ascend a small set of stairs that lead up into a grand hallway. Crystal chandeliers glitter above their heads and royal crown modeling decorate the walls- in comparison to her crumbling church, this Master's home was lovely beyond measure.
The two make their way steadily towards two heavy wooden doors. Even from outside Catherine can hear the trill of violins and the soft tinking of a piano. Two beautiful men, devoid of facial hair, their hair slicked back behind their ears, open the doors to reveal a glittering ballroom that draws the saintly woman's breath from her lungs in a stunned gasp. All around her are men and woman of disgusting, ethereal beauty. The men are dressed in hand-tailored suits- precious gemstones adorn their neckerchiefs and cuffs. The woman having draped themselves in fine silks and satin to match their partner's pocket scarves and vests. Around their necks glitter similar jewelry, once again matching their partners. The brilliant facets sparkle and catch the light as they whirl round and round the ballroom gracefully.
"This way," Anna Marie whispers softly, quickly drawing her charges' attention as she had stared for far too long. Silently she leads the younger woman to stand towards the back of the room beside where a small throng of partygoers sit and watch the dancers sweep across the polished marble floors. "Don't move and keep your eyes down to the ground. Remember, you're a servant here, not a guest." Anne Marie murmurs to Catherine as she looks to the girl whose eyes scan the unearthly beauty before.
With a slow nod, she drops her blue gaze down to the spotless marble floor beneath her feet, tray resting at breast height. Yet even as she swallows and an attempts to will her heart to slow its riotous thundering does the knowledge that she has willing walked into a den of monsters, disappear. Had these people, these nobles been the horrid monsters that Dominick had told her about? Were they truly as vile as the Church claimed? As her eyes shifted to the tray of crystal goblets filled with blood, does sickening realization settle into her stomach again- yes, despite their angelic features and impressive wealth, they were all still damned creatures doomed to the pits.
Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
