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nihildenial · 5 months ago

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Maiden Voyage by nihil-denial

Papa Emeritus III x Omega/Mist/Crust/Alpha/Aero

Rated T

Fluff, brotherly love, No smut, implied/referenced relationships, house cleaning

Word count: 3,964

There weren’t many rules in the Church of Unholy Satan’s Los Angeles Ministry. There were no rules on dress outside of the once-a-week Black Mass, no limits on who could attend, and freedom from any gender or sexual norms.

Initiates and Siblings flowed in and out of the large cathedral-centered campus daily. Mingled between the devil worshippers were members of the Church’s Clergy that mostly wore their given vestments; more so to express the years of servitude and fashion sense rather than conforming to a papacy expectation.

Life under Anti-Pope Papa Emeritus II was considered paradise for those who lived within the grounds of the Ministry. He was the second eldest son of Papa Emeritus Nihil, and succeeded his brother, Papa Emeritus I, after a twenty-year reign.

Papa II had headed the L.A. Ministry for five years already and has already done one successful North American gospel entertainment tour. The Emeritus bloodline was famously talented in the fine arts, with all sons especially gifted with sinfully dulcet voices.

But for however much Papa II’s congregation was stable and happy, the Clergy was always looking to the future of the Ministry. As Head of Clergy, Sister Imperator kept track of the Emeritus bloodline through Papa Nihil’s many escapades (finally getting him to stop after five sons, the last two being twins she bore herself).

The third son was destined to become Papa Emeritus III in his father’s lineage. Papa Nihil, in his early rockstar lifestyle, decided rather than remember the names the various mothers gave their sons, he would name them by their prophesized reign.

The third son went by ‘Terzo,’ meaning ‘third’ in Nihil’s native language of Italian.

Terzo was considered to be the most handsome Emeritus son; his mother’s Sicilian heritage gifted him with olive skin, thick, raven-black hair, and a devilishly charming smile. He was constantly charming initiates and siblings of all genders into his bed (or the hallway…or under the stairs…or out in the forest).

Papa II was born four years before Terzo. Many Siblings of Sin within the Ministry couldn’t believe this, as the papal vestments made Papa II seem so much older than Terzo.

Terzo used this discrepancy to schmooze his way through the educational track of the Ministry, however his parallel lifestyle to his father’s early years eventually caught up with him.

“You fall asleep during Black Mass, refuse to help with unholy communion, and have had three pregnancy scares in the past few months. This may be the Church of Satan, but even the Devil has to be responsible sometimes,” Papa Emeritus II, ‘Secondo,’ scolded his younger brother during a clergy meeting. “You are not receiving the title of Head Cardinal.”

“I am an Emeritus son! I deserve that title! If I don’t have it, then I’ll be worth nothing!” Terzo complained. “I volunteered for the Lupercalia feast this year, and I am trying to further the Emeritus legacy by bringing more children into the world.” He was prone to whining when he didn’t get his way, but even here he could somewhat see the error of his ways. Perhaps he has been a bit too careless with the Sisters lately.

Secondo’s skull paint does not betray the pain he feels for not giving his brother the title. “You need to find something other than power and wealth to make you happy. Being Head Cardinal is a large task and I don’t feel you’re committed to the cause of doing this to help others.”

Sister Imperator’s frown in visible, “We have free condoms for a reason, Terzo. I will put you on the consideration list of alternates, but you will stay an acolyte Cardinal. You are dismissed.”

Terzo kept his shoulders level as he strides out of the cathedral’s meeting room. Only once he was behind the closed doors of his bedroom does he let his posture slouch. His companion cat twines his fluffy black form around the hem of Terzo’s black cassock.

“Buon pomeriggio, Bernini,” He sweeps the cat into his arms like a baby. “I am not returning a happy man, however.”

Bernini’s golden eyes close in happiness as he pets him, uncaring of his owner’s plight.

“I need to show them that I am indeed ready to become Head Cardinal. If I wait on the alternate list, it could be literal years before Sister Imperator decides to review me! Maybe I’ve been a bit crazy, but I am simply indulging in the pleasures of the Earth. I need a way to display that I’m capable of helping others,” He sighs heavily.

The Maine Coon only continues his content purring.

Terzo’s stomach grumbles and rouses the cat, who jumps from his arms at being disturbed. “I guess I should go get dinner. I’ll bring it back here, perhaps.” He walks from his bedroom in the papal building of the sprawling campus to the dining hall connected to the main cathedral.

“Good evening, Terzo! How did the meeting go?” Sister Rebecca greets as he steps up to receive a hearty serving of the night’s large pot of authentic spaghetti.

“Buon pomeriggio, Sister. It was not, ah, successful,” He tries to give her a smile, but it falls flat.

The older woman spoons an extra meatball onto his plate. “I know it’s disappointing, but I agree with them. You’ll get there. You show so much promise as a Head Cardinal, though you do need to tamp down that wild side or else you’ll end up like your father.”

Terzo smirks a bit at that. He’s managed to stay off drugs (he doesn’t count cigarettes as drugs), and he doesn’t ever plan on getting on them. He’s not stupid. “I wish that there was a way to prove that I’m worthy. How do I know this won’t affect me becoming Papa?”

“Why are you worrying about becoming Papa? You have so much freedom!”

“Thanks for the great dinner, Sister,” Terzo says politely and takes his plate. After chatting briefly with a Brother of Blasphemy, the acolyte Cardinal begins the trek back to his room.

He nods in greeting to the Siblings and clergy members he passes, eventually letting himself daydream about the ways he could improve his standing for the promotion. His feet take him through the entrance of the papal suite building on instinct.

Terzo goes to turn the last corner before his room when he slams into a solid body.

His dinner smashes back into the rich black of his fascia belt and the plate falls to shatter on the stone floor between Terzo and the newcomer.

Terzo yelps, “What the fuck?! Watch where you’re going, you brick wall—” He was fully expecting it to be his father, Papa Nihil, or his brother, Papa Emeritus I. His green and white eyes snap to the silver elemental symbols embroidered on the newcomer’s breast.

It’s a Nameless Ghoul.

And judging by the white highlight of the Quintessence symbol, he’s run into Omega.

To audience members outside of the Ministry campus, the Nameless Ghouls were simply masked musicians that performed the dark gospels alongside the touring Papa. To those within the Ministry, the truth about the Nameless Ghouls was known; they were bound demonic spirits, gifted with infernal talent and powers that helped gain followers for their master.

They weren’t inherently evil, but after a Sibling became angry and struck down the first ever summoned Water Ghoul; Sister Imperator and Papa Emeritus I created a rule that no one outside of the High Clergy was allowed to interact with a Nameless Ghoul. Siblings and lower ranked Cardinals were allowed to talk to them in emergencies, but most interactions ended after a friendly wave or nod of greeting in the hallways during Black Mass.

The rule meant that the Nameless part of the Ghoul’s identities had to end within the Ministry campus in case something like that ever happened again. Fire was Alpha, Air was Aero, Earth was Crust, Quintessence was Omega, and the second Water Ghoul was named Lake.

Since Terzo was an acolyte, he was not a part of the High Clergy and therefore not allowed to directly interact with the Ghouls.

Oh shit! Terzo screams in his head. “Mi dispiace,” He takes a step back but slips on the spilled spaghetti.

The demon best known for his part as rhythm guitarist quickly grabs onto the front of Terzo’s cassock to keep the human from hitting the ground. He holds until Terzo can regain his footing on stone that isn’t covered in pasta.

“Fuck, it got on yours too,” Terzo complains as he sees a matching splatter on the front of Omega’s short tunic.

“Don’t worry about it, we have plenty of uniforms,” The six foot-five Ghoul says, his voice a low rumble. “I can call housekeeping and bring a new plate for you.”

Terzo doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid, so he nods. Omega was much nicer than Terzo thought he’d be. The outright care even when both of them were breaking room by just being in each others’ presence was refreshing. The Ghoul’s gleaming silver mask accentuates the indigo irises that meet his.

The toned arm muscles and wide chest would feel so good pressing Terzo against the wall.

“You’re Terzo, right? I’ll go take care of this,” Omega places a hand over where a human’s heart would be, bows, and steps down the hallway.

Terzo stares after him until his form vanishes around the corner. That Ghoul was so fucking hot. Every muscled DILF fantasy Terzo kept locked inside his brain explodes behind his eyelids. Sin incarnated, the ultimate lay.

Suddenly, he has an idea.

Sibling Ezra is knocking on Terzo’s door an hour later, a tray with an identical plate of spaghetti sitting on it. Next to the bundle of silverware is a folded letter with a purple wax seal. Ezra hands him the tray and takes the soiled cassock with a smile.

Bernini the Main Coon is very excited at the smell of food, and jumps up to the armchair across from the chaise.

“You just had your own dinner!” He complains as the feline keeps trying to snag noodles.

With the spaghetti eaten, Terzo looks to the letter on the tray. The wax seals bears the symbols of the five elements overlapping together, the official symbol for Ghoul affairs within the postal system of the Ministries. It takes some time to open the white envelope without damaging the wax, but he manages to pry it off mostly intact. Inside the envelope is a single slip of parchment marked with neat, black writing.

Cardinal Terzo,

I am sorry about our run-in yesterday. I hope replacing your dinner will assuage any ill feelings you have towards us Ghouls.

Omega, Quintessence Ghoul

The demon was worried about how Terzo would view the Ghouls? He’s the one that ran into Omega, not the other way around. Something aches in Terzo’s heart. It’s been nearly ten years since the death of Chain Ghoul at the hands of a Brother, and as far as Terzo had grown up with, none of the other Siblings ever had the same ill feelings towards the musicians even before that situation. Perhaps Omega is concerned about if Sister Imperator found out that the two of them had been communicating.

Terzo could use this to his advantage. If he were to go to the next monthly Clergy meeting with a Ghoul utterly devoted to him, his brother’s hand would be forced to give Terzo a position within the High Clergy. They can’t get rid of him because he’s an Emeritus.

But the image of those indigo eyes creased in betrayal as Omega inevitably finds out Terzo was just using him, stings more than the rejection.

The raven-haired man thinks to all of the rituals he’s seen his brothers perform. All of the Ghouls were polite, talented, and sinfully built like Greek statues. They were part of a pack that fought, fucked, and performed together. Maybe…becoming Head Cardinal wasn’t what Terzo wanted anymore. More paperwork? That didn’t sound like fun. Why did he want to be Head Cardinal anyway?

Once he reached leader status, he’d be shipped off to a Ministry branch to lead his own congregation. There’s no telling where he’d end up. Cardinal Rein was just shipped off to Forks, Washington. Sure, there’s a chance Terzo could end up in Las Vegas or New York, but those are fully staffed and never have a shortage of willing applicants.

If Terzo was going to find satisfaction in his place at the Ministry before he ascended to Papal status, the Ghouls were probably the best way for him to feel like he’s fulfilling something in his life.

Ghost practiced before dinner every third day, so Terzo had to wait two days before he could conveniently place himself nearby.

Secondo was dressed in one of his well-tailored suits, sunglasses on his nose as he came in from his drive coming back from the city. He immediately notices his nosey brother lingering near the door to the practice hall.

“Fratello! How is the weather outside?” Terzo says innocently.

“It’s warm…as usual for California,” The bald man says suspiciously. “Shoo, the Ghouls will be here soon for practice.”

Terzo lifts himself from where he was leaning against the wall. “Oh, I know. I was hoping I could watch.”

“…You’ve never shown interest before.”

The raven-haired Cardinal plucks an invisible piece of lint from the skirt of his black cassock. “If I’m being truthfully honest with you, brother, our meeting the other day has made an impact on me. I’ve been too reckless with my actions. If I’m ever going to become Papa or simply a Head Cardinal, I need to take my duties seriously. So, seeing how the band performs will help me gain insight into how to better serve our Lord.”

Secondo is glad he’s still wearing his Aviators, so Terzo doesn’t see the unbelieving look he has. Oh well. “A few Siblings sit in, so feel free to sit with them, but if I catch you talking during practice you can go sulk in your room.”

Terzo salutes him and opens the practice hall door with a dramatic flourish.

Sister Terra and Sibling Zelda are already sitting in the two rows of pews at the back of the room, both engaged in thick tomes and hand signing between each other. They look up when the door opens and wave at Papa II.

He takes off his sunglasses and waves back. “So, like I said, Terra and Zelda use signs to communicate during practice. It would be good if you could also learn that then help with the classes.”

Terzo resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll get right on that.” He saunters over to the couple and sits in the pew in front of them.

Secondo tries to shake his suspicions as he sets up his microphone and check over the racks of guitars and the drum kit.

As usual, Mist is the first to arrive. “Good afternoon, Papa,” She greets.

Crust’s lanky form follows in after her, then Aero. Both male-oriented Ghouls give their own greetings before going to their instruments.

The sound of arguing typically precedes Alpha and Omega, and today is no different.

“Maybe if you actually cleaned your nest, they would want to sleep with you!” Omega says as he pushes the door open. “Scenting and not washing clothes for five weeks are two different things.”

Alpha’s slightly smaller size does nothing to intimidate him from firing back as he enters. “Maybe if you weren’t such a brute then I would have the energy after sex to clean! It’s difficult to do laundry when your back is blown out every night!”

Getting railed to the point of not being able to move? Sounds like an issue I want, Terzo thinks. He stands. “I can come help clean out the den! I want to take on some volunteering hours, and what better way than to help the musicians that devote themselves to Papa?”

Secondo’s lips thin into a frown. “Terzo! Quiet!” He hisses. He’ll allow Terzo to talk to the ghouls, only to not reprimand him when he appears to be genuine.

Terzo shrugs and steps over to the slight platform. “You haven’t started practicing yet. I can come help after dinner? Sibling Ezra has a sweet spot for me and I’ll get the materials back as soon as possible for you.”

Omega’s indigo eyes rove over him. He knows the Ghoul notices the extra tight cinching at his waist, and the way his make up is applied with perfect edges. “You would do that for us Ghouls?”

“It’s absolutely dreadful,” Mist warns. “There’s a reason none of us touch it.”

Terzo waves her concern away. “It’ll be no problem for me. What do you say, Papa? Can your helpful brother work with your Ghouls?”

Secondo glances to Omega, who shrugs helplessly. “Alright; even if this goes against the rule—it is pretty disgusting and needs to be cleaned.”

“Great! I’ll see all of you bright and early tomorrow morning then!” Terzo proclaims and strides to the door.

“Wait, weren’t you going to watch?” Secondo calls after him.

Terzo pauses halfway out the door. “I need to, uh, prepare some Ghoul-approved cleaning supplies.”

Omega sighed for the inevitable disgust that would overcome the human as he waited outside the stairs of the Ghoul wing. Living in the crypt had its advantages, such as being able to see and hear whoever comes down to fetch one of the demons. He perks up when he hears footsteps coming down the stone staircase. Terzo steps into view and Omega’s jaw drops.

The human is dressed in a Sisters’ habit; complete with a tight pencil skirt, low-cut blouse, and veil. He holds up a bucket full of different sprays and sponges. “I’m ready to help!”

Omega wants to sink to his knees in front of the human. It’s been so long since any of the Ghouls had a human in their nest or pack. “You’re certainly wearing that outfit,” he chokes out.

Terzo does a small spin, grinning at how easy it was to chat with him. “Hot Ministry maid Terzo, at your service. Now, let’s see what I can do for you wonderful demons.” He gestures for Omega to open the doors.

“I’m just giving you one last warning. It’s really, really bad in there. Alpha will try to coax you into not doing anything because he thinks it’s fine. If you leave now, I can spare you the horror.”

So Ghouls have a tendency for the dramatic. How bad can it be? The human rolls his mismatched eyes, conveniently lined with thick wings. “I forget, who’s the one trying to coax me out of this? Step aside, Guitar boy.”

Omega obliges and opens the heavy wooden door. The clashing scents of sweat, sex, and something sour fills the corridor.

“Oh my unholy Lucifer…” Terzo nearly drops the cleaning bucket as he steps inside.

This was not going to be a situation where Terzo could ‘heehee’, while bending over in his short skirt and pretend to feather-dust.

The crypt was originally the Cathedral’s, well, crypt. When Papa Nihil summoned the first Ghouls back in 1969 the niches full of urns and coffins were relocated to a cemetery on the edge of the Ministry grounds. A central circular den was dug through the marble floors and lined with cushions, similar to the era’s conversation pits featured in houses. The three embalming rooms at the back of the space were gutted and remade into bedrooms.

Today, what should be a comfortable and clean nest for the pack of demons is a tangled mess of sex-soiled blankets, rubbish, and what looks like…mold.

Terzo is honestly shocked. The Ghouls always seemed so put together!

Mist, Crust, Alpha, and Aero stand on the other side of the den with guilty expressions.

“Yeah…” Alpha rubs the back of his neck.

“How…How did it get like this?” Terzo asks.

The Air Ghoul kicks a crushed soda can from the edge of the den. “It’s kind of just got away from us. Usually we have our heat and ruts at the same time, but this winter we got them consecutively for nearly three months straight.”

Terzo sets down his bucket and shucks off the veil from his head. He does his best to fold it and put it in with the supplies so it doesn’t touch the sticky floor. “We may need to throw away a lot of this.”

Alpha gasps, “No!”

“Alpha, there’s mold on these. I honestly should be wearing a mask,” Terzo sighs.

“I’m not getting rid of these. We can wash them!”

Crust lays a comforting hand on his pack mate’s shoulder. “Imagine how nice your rut will be with nice, soft cushions. We won’t have to worry about getting the cleaning Sibling sick or deal with the awful textures.”

“This is a good thing,” Omega agrees. “If Terzo is willing to help?”

Terzo’s motivation for volunteering for this falters. He could be selfish and leave them to their mess and continue working towards being Head Cardinal to make his father ‘proud,’ or he can buckle down and scoop some of the goodness in his heart and help these creatures.

“Of course I am,” Terzo says, genuine and willing to work. “You Ghouls deserve only the best accommodations.”

Secondo doesn’t believe his eyes. In two weeks of nearly non-stop work and elbow grease, his brother and the Ghouls have completely transformed the crypt. The cream-colored marble floors actually sparkle, the den has freshly washed blankets and quilts, and the Ghouls’ shared bedrooms are organized and vacuumed.

He was worried that the $2,000 dollars Terzo put in as an expense was being used to rebuild the destroyed floor and moldy cabinets.

Omega proudly leads Secondo and Sister Imperator around the den. “It took lots of convincing, but Terzo and I managed to get Alpha to get rid of his hoard of expired food and gross blankets.”

The two humans see Terzo, Alpha, and Mist at the kitchenette on the far left wall, the sounds of cooking floating through the open room.

His brother was actually cooking?

“Ah, Fratello, Sister! Welcome!” Terzo calls. He steps away from the stove, handing the wooden spoon to Alpha. “We’re just finishing up a feast of Linguine alle Vongole to surprise you with.”

Secondo could tear up at how radiant his brother seems when Omega sweeps him into an embrace.

Sister blinks at the display of affection, especially when the other Ghouls do their own sweet greeting to Terzo and Omega.

“You look so happy,” Secondo says quietly.

“I am happy. The cleaning was tough, but we got through it together and built a space that will be comfy for us to spend the upcoming midsummer Heats.” Terzo smiles.

“You’re saying that as if you’re participating,” Sister Imperator raised an eyebrow. “There are rules.”

Terzo straightens his posture. “Rules that shouldn’t exist. Look at what we’ve accomplished together! I feel like I have a meaning.”

Secondo opens his arms. Terzo runs into them, burying his head in the crook of his brother’s neck just like he did as a child. “You’ve grown in these past weeks, Fratellino. I’m so proud of you and I hope you continue this path of finding what makes you happy.”

To Terzo, happiness is no longer a red cassock hanging in his closet, but seeing the satisfaction in the eyes of his new packmates as they spend time together in the safe den.

One day he’ll become Head Cardinal, and the Ghouls will be right there by he and his brother’s side.

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sister-marshmallow · 2 years ago

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Life Eternal

Chapter two: Awakening

Cardinal Copia x Original Female Character

The abyss swallows you whole. When no light can enter your eyes, only the darkness of our Father in Hell can consume you. I remember those words from the book. As promised, being locked in a small black containment for centuries does leave you susceptible to darkened thoughts. Though sleep has consumed me, I have still felt the years pass as slowly as watching the paint of the chapel dry.

I have been trapped within my own mind for too long now, shackled to the confines of my own consciousness. My body has been like stone, unable to be moved or felt. My eyelids, I can feel them. The urge to blink them open comes over me, only to be met with darkness. Feeling is regained within my fingers, they twitch and come to life, next my toes. Life floods back into my stiff bones, a strangled groan leaving my throat as my body struggles against the clostraphoic box.

My hands press against the lid, attempting to push it off, but the lid is heavy, sealed from centuries of dirt and grime. I make a fist, bashing against the lid. “Someone! Please! Let me out!” My voice scratches as I scream, vocal chords lethargic from lack of use, my tongue having lost the ease of speech. I kick and hit the box, loud banging emanating from within. “Please! Let me out!”

“Shut the fuck up!” What? I hear the voice, faint for shouting, but they heard me. There are people here, I- I can be freed. I grit my teeth before kicking again.

“Let! Me! Out!”

The sound of many footsteps grows louder, I continue to thrash, making my presence known. Harsh light strikes down into my pained eyes, I cover them with my hand as they adjust to luminance once again. My spine crackles audibly as I rise from the coffin, my icey hands rubbing together, they are pale and dead.

“The old texts were true…she is here.” The man's ancient voice speaks, milky eyes fixated on my form. His skin is wrinkled like old leather, the markings of a skull painted haphazardly on his face. His robes are intricate, like a noble priest, embroidered in gold.

He stands next to my coffin in the cobweb-filled room. This must be a catacomb of sorts. The stone black walls, dripping candles and well, the coffins. I find myself lost for words, confused. I can’t seem to remember how this has all occurred. I have been in that coffin for centuries, I have felt it, yet I do not know how this began…no, only that I have read a book of the Olde One.

“Can someone p-perhaps tell me what is happening?”

“My child, you have been prophesied for centuries.” A woman speaks this time. Her clothes are strange, unfamiliar to me, though they consist of black and white, yet no dress. Her eyes are circled in coal, hair grey and face wrinkled. Her neck is thin, the skin like paper, revealing her blue veins. They pulse as blood rushes through them, each vessel, even the capillaries, I sense as they fill.

My teeth scratch against the inside of my mouth, my eyes fixated on her pulsing neck, the smell of iron overwhelming my senses as I lurch forward. My arms are quickly grabbed by a man in a mask, I tug against him violently, thrashing to try and break his grip.

“Get Terzo’s ghouls!” The older man shouts, looking at another masked man by the door.

“Get off me!” I hiss, teeth bared, eyes still fixated on her neck, her blood pumping faster now. Two more silver masked men run into the room, restraining me again just as I escape the grasp of the first.

“Careful there, princess.” The larger one speaks, holding my body against his. I hiss and scratch, trying to escape but he is strong, unnaturally so. “I think it’s best you leave now, Sister, Papa.”

“Yeah, plus she fucking stinks!” The smaller man spits as the old man and woman run through the door. It slams behind them and I am let free. I rush to the door, tugging at the handle but it does not budge. My fingers scratch into the wood, splinters burying themselves into the soft skin beneath. My nails then come to scratch at my throat, the dry need for her blood, the desperation overwhelming.

“The fuck’s up with her!? What was she doing down here anyway?” The little man asks.

“Do you genuinely not pay attention to anything? She’s the lamia.”

He looks to the other, deadpanned for a second. “You know my Latin is shit.”

“She’s a vampire, Dew! You know, you would’ve thought the cardinal would’ve gone on about this enough for you to remember. He loves those prophecies.”

“He probably does but I don't pay attention.”

I finally give up my scratching, sinking down to the floor. My bloody hands wrap themselves in the material of my dress, suddenly the fear and shock of the situation registering as I begin to shake. The largest of the men approaches me, I shuffle back, trying to keep away. “You okay there?” I peek out from behind my hair, eyes swirling with fear as I gaze upon the intimidating, angular mask donning the man’s face. “There’s no need to be scared, we're not going to hurt you.”

“Where am I?” My voice wavers as I struggle to hold eye contact.

“You’re in our church, in the basement…well, more specifically in the catacombs.”

“I…I was in a coffin…w-why?”

“You don’t remember anything?” He asks, his voice drifting, sounding sadder than it had previously.

“N-No…I remember the book…and the pestilence and…oh”

My parents' final breath, choked out, blood filled viscera coating their peaceful, restful faces. The amorphous man, guiding me to the darkness. The hooded creature leading me to the forest. Screams filling the night air, her neck in my mouth, her blood down my throat. The massacre I left for only God to witness. Nails hammering into the coffin lid and then nothing, nothing but His whispers…

“No! No I- that…”

“Can I see the teeth?” He is immediately smacked across the head by the taller, skinner man.

“Dew! Shut the fuck up!”

“Are you thirsty?” The bigger man asks, squatting down to be at my level. I nod, shyly. “Right. I’ll go ask Sister, see what she can get sorted. You two,” he turns back, pointing at the other men, “watch over her. Do not let her out of this room.” He gestures to me to move out of the way and I do so, holding myself back from running through the door as he leaves.

The two other men turn to me, one awkwardly fiddling with his hands. “So…when’d you die.”

“Dew- you can’t just ask her shit like that!”

“I-I’m dead!?” I screech, looking down again at my cold, pale hands.

“No- well, technically yes? I mean, you’re still moving so what does life mean anyway?” The tall one splutters, arms outstretched in front of him.

“Were you like some crazy powerful witch or something? Is that how you got to talk to Him?” The short one asks eagerly, stepping in front of the taller masked man.

My brows knit together, fingers fiddling with the fabric of my dress. “I’m not a witch. I am- was a Shepard.”

“What?”

“My family cared for sheep, we were normal pious people, I don’t know why we were forsaken, I-”

“Did you know Imperator has a secret blood bank!?” The bigger man bursts though the door, clear bags of red liquid in hand. The smell hits my nose, eyes rolling back before I launch myself at the man, ripping into the bag he holds, the divine languid taste dripping down my throat. “Mother of satan…”

“MORE!” He tosses another bag over to me, I pierce it with my teeth, consuming the essence. “MORE!” I growl, coagulated crimson bubbling at the corners of my mouth, sharp white teeth stained.

“I don‘t have any more!” He shouts in protest. I hiss back at him.

“You sure she’s not a fucking demon?”

“Dew, please shut the fuck up.”

“She’s a vampire. She died during the Black Death.” The bigger man grunts.

“Wow,” the smaller man muses, “fucking long time ago.”

“No shit.”

“What is a vampire?” I ask, wiping the blood from my lips.

“See!” He exclaims. “I’m not dumb! She doesn’t even know what she is!”

“DEW! Please- for the love of all that’s unholy, fucking leave. Go ask the cardinal if you have any more stupid questions.” The taller man commands.

“Ugh, fine.” He grumbles, slumping his shoulders before leaving the room, the door locks behind him. I back against the cold stone wall, hugging my knees. I really wish I had an understanding of what has come to pass. My family, they are gone. They have been gone for hundreds of years. So has my village, and all with knowledge of it. The kind priest who gave my parents their rites was the last to see me before…this…at least it was not him who I destroyed. God would not have forsaken one of his holy men. The fire of the candelabra flickers above me. The windy whips of orange lapping up to the ceiling, rising up as the souls damned to Hell would do. Why was I not given this fate, allowed the kiss of death. Instead am I now cursed to live among the living who I must feast on for sustenance?

“He was right though, she does smell.” The sound of the lanky masked man breaks me from my spiralling thoughts.

“I don’t know what we can do about it. We can't take her out of this room to have a shower.”

“What is a shower?”

I see the tall one roll his eyes behind his mask. “Oh fuck, how long is this gonna take to explain.”

“It's not our job, we’ll have to wait for Imperator to talk to her.”

I lower my head, eyes threatening tears, they sting sharply. “I’m sorry for being a burden to you both, I am just very…confused.”

The larger man tilts his head, crouching down before kneeling beside me, a comforting hand placed on my shoulder. “Hey, you’re not a burden. I imagine this is quite scary for you but I’m sure Sister will explain it all to you. In the meantime, I’m Omega, this is Earth, and the asshole that was here before is called Dewdrop.”

I lift my head to look into his eyes. They swirl a strange colour. A mix of brown and red, a strange glow emanating from within them, darkened by the shadow of his metal visage. “Thank you for being so kind, Omega. Could- could you please apologise to those people from earlier, on my behalf…I just couldn’t control myself…it's this overwhelming urge, all I could hear was her pulse.”

“It's probably because you hadn’t drank in a really long time.” The taller man, Earth, suggests. Earth, a strange name.

“I have only done it once. It was a massacre…then I was locked in that coffin.”

“Sounds like a crazy story.” Earth grits.

“You really don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” Omega adds. “Don’t let us pressure you.”

“I will…in time.” I hum to myself, chin resting on my knees. “I do have a question.”

“All ears.”

“How come I have no urge to drink from you or Earth?”

“Probably because we’re ghouls, not humans. Maybe you can't drink from us at all.”

Earth nods. “It's probably a good thing you can't, someone has to be able to control you.”

“Ghouls? Are you- are you demons?”

“Basically.”

“Okay…and this church worships?”

“The one below. He saved you.”

“You must be very special to Him. I mean, we’ve all heard stories of vampires but nobody has ever seen one. Nihil thinks you’re the only one.” Omega adds.

“Nihil?” I muse. “The older man, from earlier.”

“Yeah, he’s been dying to meet you.”

My brows furrow. He wants to meet me so badly? Me? What could possibly be so special about me that a church of the Devil could be so interested in. The mistakes I made, the selling of my soul? Surely I cannot be the only one to meet this fate? This man was so kind, welcoming and I- I tried to kill him. “I…I want to apologise to him, to both of them. Perhaps I will be fine now, you can both hold me back, just in case.”

The thinner ghoul looks towards the other, head tilted to the side. “You think that's a good idea, Omega?”

He breathes deeply. “Maybe not the best idea, but I’m sure it will be fine. We need their help with her anyway, go get them.”

Omega holds a gentle but firm grip on my forearm, calming me from the fear of my uncontrollable blood lust. The large wooden door opens, Earth heading in first to hold it for the two older humans. My other hand reaches to grip at Omega’s, feeling a strange comfort from him as my eyes drift to Nihil and the lady. They walk towards me confidently, not sheepish as I suspected. Although they saw my uncontrolled nature, they do not seem to fear me.

“I-” I begin, breathing deeply to calm my nerves yet feeling no such overwhelming urge to bite the two. “I would like to apologise.”

“There is no need, my child.” The woman speaks, her tone crisp and regal. The two bow before me, causing me to bow back in confusion before omega elbows me in the rib, jolting me back up. The two rise, eyes filled with fascination as they yet again take in my dishevelled form.

“I have been waiting for years to meet you, Vampir. We read of you in the ancient texts. His blessing upon you is…magnificent. Would you not agree, sister?”

She nods, curtly. “His creations are wondrous, I’ll give you that. But yes, we have read much about you.”

“Read about me? I… I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“The Olde one left messages of you through the centuries, predicting your return. It was to beacon a great change. You have the dark one's favour, he will bring us new teachings through you. You have his communion.”

A look of bewilderment strikes across my features. “Do not dump her with all this burden this second, Papa.” The woman grumbles. “She needs time to adjust, time to think. You cannot comprehend the change she is going through. Commune with the dark one can wait until she has at least had a shower.”

“And what might a shower be?”

“…”

“I’ll go get Cirrus.”

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