Bless Us With Blood!

Francis searched all over the Cathedral Ward for Surgit. He even asked the people he'd rescued about him, but nobody's seen him since. He'd noticed many changes in the city, however. When he went to Cainhurst, the moon was draping the city in milky white lights. Now, the moon and the sky had changed.

People had also changed as did the moon. The rude old lady in the chapel had become friendly. The blonde prostitute Surgit had brought in was now folded in half. She was obviously in pain, and no matter how much Francis tried to speak with her, she wouldn't respond.

The only ones remaining were the good nun who said she didn't see the good hunter, but missed him greatly, the stingy man with narrow minded views who said he didn't care where Surgit's disappeared to, and the creepy beggar. He told him the hunter went to the Forbidden Woods but never came back.

The next, and most significant change, Francis had noticed was when he left the chapel. He saw a gigantic, arachnid-like creature hanging from one side. It had a gigantic head that resembled a potato with hexagonal heads all over. It also had tentacles protruding from where its mouth should have been. They moved and swirled in the air as though they had their own will.

Then there were its thin, very long limbs. It had hands and legs, as though some part of it was human. Francis had the eerie feeling that the creature was observing him. The more he looked at it, the more tingling he felt at the back of his neck. His hair stood, and he shuddered.

From then on, Francis avoided looking at the creature for too long. He'd also noticed some change in the enemies patrolling the Cathedral Ward. The lanterns the Pale Doctors used as they roamed the streets had eyes on them now. Once, a pale doctor spotted him from afar. He pointed his lantern at Francis and growled.

Soon after, beams of light shot out of the eyes and slithered toward Francis at frightening speed. Francis didn't have time to assess what happened. The beams collided with him, and the old man felt them explode against his chest. When the next beam came his way, he was prepared to quickly dodge and eliminate the threat from its source.

He roamed around the Cathedral Ward, thinking about what Gavril had told him. 'What did he mean by friends?' he thought as he walked toward the Great Cathedral. He was expecting to see a giant by the stairs leading to the Cathedral, but he was surprised to find the place empty.

He heard some grunts at the top of the stairs and he hurried, tiptoeing. As he got closer, the distinct smell of two hunters reached his nostrils. One of them he instantly recognized. It was Phil, the executioner who ambushed him in the dream. He didn't recognize the second one.

'I'd rather stay here and prick my ears,' he thought. 'If I could smell them from here, they should probably be able to do the same.'

As a vileblood, Francis had even more heightened senses. He pricked his ears, and soon words floated toward him. He heard 'die,' then there was 'eternal,' then he heard the word 'draw.' That last word was spoken by a woman. He thought he'd heard it somewhere before.

Then he heard a shot, loud and clear through the empty streets of the Cathedral Ward. Francis hurried over. He saw the crow lady standing above Phil. He was on his knees, while she had both daggers in hand. She drew an arc as she swung the daggers, and the executioner's head rolled down the stairs until it collided with Francis.

Eileen turned around, and her mask found Francis. "A hunter, are we?" she asked.

She descended the stairs and reached the old man with surprising agility and speed. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be hunting beasts?" she asked as soon as she reached him.

"I'm looking for my friends," Francis said. He didn't believe the word when he said it, but he hoped it were true.

Eileen scoffed. "Huh! Friends... That's a sad tale if I've ever seen one," she said. "I haven��t seen your friends, but if I were you, I'd be busy hunting. A hunter must hunt."

"What about you?" Francis asked. "Why aren't you out hunting beasts?"

Eileen chuckled. "You've grown bold old man," she said. "Last time I saw you, you were trembling in your boots. Look at you now. You're strong, fast, and a vileblood to boot. This old nose never fails me, no matter how much I stuff this bloody mask..."

"What are you, really?" he asked.

"A few hunters can resist the temptation of the hunt," Eileen said. "Sadly, most are turned by the blood. Some of them are as old as time itself, yet the blood gets to them."

"So you're a hunter too, but of hunters?" Francis asked.

"How many times have you met a friendly hunter?" Eileen asked. Francis could count them on the fingers of one hand.

"You understand now, that the line between man and beast is very thin," Eileen went on. "Don't dally now, a hunter must hunt."

She took the stairs, heading toward the Great Cathedral.

"You watch out in there," Francis warned. "There's a hunter in there. He's been chasing me ever since I got here."

"What did I just say?" Eileen turned around. Her tone was strict, dry. "Don't you worry about other hunters now... Leave the hunting of hunters to me."

She turned on her heels and got inside the Cathedral. Francis shrugged. If that meant she'd get rid of Gavril for him, who was he to object?

From the foot of the Great Cathedral, Francis took a turn he'd never taken before. He went right, toward a small church that lay down a hill. Serpentine stairs led him to a small settlement with a fountain square in the middle. Francis found two dead hunters on the floor, cut open from shoulder to mid-section.

'Someone's been here,' he thought as his guard instinctively went up. He started hearing whispers, all around him. It sounded as though the voices came from inside his head and outside at the same time.

'Bless us with blood! Bless us with blood! Bless us with Blood!' they'd whisper at him.

'Bless us with blood! Bless us with blood! Bless us with blood!'

Francis looked around. There was no sign of people around him. The houses that surrounded the plaza were empty. No light emanated from them. He approached them nevertheless and knocked at a door.

"Hello?!" he called out. "Anybody there?!"

"Euuuuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!" an ear-piercing shriek made Francis jump back in terror. Whoever was in there didn't want to be disturbed. He heard heavy panting behind the closed door then approaching footsteps.

Francis slowly walked toward the door and stood beside it so as not to show his shadow to the person inside. He heard weak pounding at the door, coupled with heavy panting.

"Huh! Huh! Huh! Euuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgh!"

Another shriek, followed by loud banging at the door... Whoever was in there was either being tortured or out of their mind. Francis was about to call out for them when he heard a hoarse, unearthly voice from behind the door. It was so loud Francis had to cover his ears, and even when he did so, he still heard the voice loudly inside his head.

"BLESS US WITH BLOOD! BLESS US WITH BLOOD! BLESS US WITH BLOOD!"