Lord of Night, Part 3

Mess was turning the fragile pages of the old tome. He was tired, had long since lost his enthusiasm for the investigation, and the ink strokes on the paper were a degree less intelligible than squiggles.

Words had long since begun to merge into one. Beside him, Rink grunted and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

It had been three days since Brother Gurman had returned to the territory of the living. During that time, he had gone out and into unconsciousness. He refused food because he said he had no appetite. He drank little water because he said he was not thirsty.

This disturbed the young priest. Neither hunger nor thirst, it was something unnatural. He lent a certain credence to the old man's vampire story, but Mess refused to believe there was any real truth to it.

Still, he was studying the ancient books in search of some resource that could be used to keep Brother Gurman locked inside the temple. It was useless. There was nothing.