@thedevilsbckbone THA THING
Father Ben had had a rough couple of months. People in the congregation have brought it up once or twice, offering them their doctor nephew or specialist daughter since he was losing weight, had dark eyes, he was generally quiet--when not upset and seemed weak. Only if an illness were his problem.
In a certain way it had been. His hubris. He had been called out, again and again regarding his pride--it was a mortal sin, one that had led him to believe he was right about helping people, Luke in particular. Luke whom he had known since he was a tiny scout, who had been attending church every Saturday until he was 13, Lukd who had talked to him about becoming a priest himself until he had met that horrible men that had led him astray.
At first, like the congregation, Ben thought Lukd had taken to drugs but it was far, far worse. The old man had lured his boy with promises of having everything he always wanted and Luke had fallen for it, hard.
It wasn't easy to understand either--years in the seminar and his friendship with Andrew Kiernan had taught him that evil walked the earth in many shapes and forms but he had mostly thought it was figure of speech. That it was the drugs, the manipulation--not cold ones.
Until he felt Luke's fangs on his neck, the strange pull to let him continue, the unspeakable, unthinkable desire the fangs on his neck, draining the life out of him had brought to his senses he wouldn't have believed his old friend. Until he was laying practically dead and Lukd shoved his own bloodied wrist to his mouth with promises of making everything better, of wanting to share that gift with him that had given him so, he hadn't believed it.
Not until the next morning, when he woke up with what felt like the worst hangover of his life and a bite in his neck that he lied to himself, had been out of more carnal pursuits. But it wasn't. Nothing was the same.
He could hear more, see further away, things tasted--odd and the craving, the craving was the worst part.
He didn't think he was going to make it through the first mass, so many pulsating necks, long, short, plump, thin--it didn't matter.
But he was going to overcome this, there had to be a way.
It had been months and he was still looking for one, having rejected luke's help and the old man's--wanting nothing than to kill Shiev from bringing this plague into their lives. He had thought of hunting animals and he had gone well so far--or as good as it could be when a meat eater was given tofu. He loathed the comparison since he had never been a fan of red meat and the irony did not escape him. But he couldn't eat cooked meat and to do... to go for what he ached for it was unthinkable.
Even if he didn't finish his prey as Luke had taught him, even if it was just a taste--what made Luke think he'd be able to control himself?
So off he went and found a poor deer and made it back to church, heading into it through the back entrance--it was late, it was terribly late and no one should be here. And yet he could hear it, the rapid heartbeat.
Quickly, he looked at his barely cleaned bloodied hands and figured his face wasn't much better--his coat was dark and so were his trousers but he smelt of dead.
