The Vampire and the Priest

"You've been trapped here inside this church for almost five hundred years", Ivar stated simply.

The priest sighed wearily, running his fingers through his hair as he looked up at the stained glass windows, his eyes searching the images as though they might speak and give him the answers that he sought.

"You're her familiar, you can't leave here and you can't age or die. It's your curse", Ivar said quietly.

"I have waited for you, she said that you would come and release me but I didn't know how long it would take", the priest sounded tired beyond measure.

Ivar found himself feeling sorry for the priest, he imagined that it must have been terribly lonely and difficult to be trapped here, mostly alone for hundreds of years. He knew what it was like to be alone for centuries but time passed differently for immortals and this man wasn't immortal, he was just made to age slower than a human should. It wasn't unusual for a witch's familiar, they were touched by their magic and it lent them some of the witch's immortality, lengthening their lifespan for many years, depending on how powerful the witch is. Obviously, Orla was no ordinary witch, for the priest to have lived for so long while hardly aging at all.

"I have never been beyond the cemetery outside, it's as far as I can go. I have stood at the cemetery fence every night for the last five hundred years and watched the sky, waiting for a sign. Tonight I was overcome with the deepest despair and I stayed inside to pray.....that's when I felt it...felt you. I have fulfilled my promise and now I want to rest. I need to rest", he wasn't begging, not even pleading, he was, quite simply, stating facts.

"You know what it is you ask of me?", Ivar had to ask, he wanted the priest to be certain of what he was asking for.

"Yes", in that one word, Ivar heard the relief and the longing, longing to finally be released from the burden he had been carrying for so long and the relief that it was finally over.

He stood then, and slowly made his way to the altar, where he knelt and bowed his head, his lips moving soundlessly in prayer. Ivar remained seated, watching him with a strange look on his face, before feeling like he was intruding, he averted his face and studied the statues lining the walls instead.

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Outside the church, the village was quiet and snow had begun to fall, as Rathgar stood waiting on the church steps. The lynch mob had quickly dispersed, following the untimely demise of their boisterous spokesperson, and the street was now completely empty. Rathgar's eyes swept across the stark landscape, as his ears strained, listening for the slightest sound. Some distance away, deep in the woods bordering the village, came the sound of paws pounding heavily on the snow, and growling, that could only mean one thing. Lycans.

Rathgar floated up into the air, his eyes scanning the trees and whitewashed landscape below. He spotted the dark shapes, running through the trees, moving rapidly towards the village. He relayed his thoughts to Ivar, urging him to hurry, while he descended back down to the ground and stepped down onto the snow.

A short while later, the church door opened and the priest stepped out with Ivar just behind him. He looked calm and unafraid, and he barely registered surprise when he saw Rathgar standing before him, with his sword unsheathed. Ivar moved quickly past him, listening intently, before he turned towards him with a look of urgency on his face.

"We haven't much time. We need to do this now",

"Follow me", the priest led the way to the cemetery beside the church and made straight for the fence.

He stopped and turned to face Ivar, a soft smile on his lips, and his eyes bright and full of joy. Ivar approached him and took his frail body in his arms, holding him like he would hold a child. The priest looked into Ivar's eyes as he nodded and leaned against Ivar's chest, a look of contentment clearly visible on his face. Even as Ivar bent his head and sank his teeth into his neck, the priest never flinched, nor did he open his eyes, and as the last drop of his life force left his body, Ivar heard a soft, haunting sigh escape his lips. Looking down at him, Ivar saw his features composed in a look of peaceful repose and he felt a sudden pang of loss for this man that he hardly knew.

Gently laying the body of the priest on one of the many tombs in the cemetery, he sped back to the front of the church, where Rathgar stood with his sword held out in front of him. He slid to a stop beside him, just as the first line of Lycans broke through the trees lining the village and headed straight toward them.

The first Lycan to reach them was massive in size and standing upright on his hind legs, he easily towered over both vampires. Ivar vanished, materializing in front of the Lycan, as it reached for him with its vicious claws. He slid between its legs, and was behind it before it even realized that he was there. It stood there blinking stupidly, until Ivar shoved his hand through its back and pulled back, bringing its heart out in his hand. The Lycan didn't have time to scream, as it toppled forward and lay face down in the snow, it's back a mangled mess of blood and torn flesh.

Rathgar's sword flashed silver under the pale moonlight, scything through the crisp night air with inhuman speed. Ivar's nails were elongated into razor-sharp talons that sliced through the air with evil intent, accompanied by the sound of flesh being torn asunder.

The two vampires moved too fast for the Lycans, disappearing and reappearing in several different places almost simultaneously. They were both in perfect sync, moving with captivating agility and deadly precision, striking down one Lycan after another. It was a graceful but lethal dance of death, both terrifying and beautiful to watch.

When, at last, it was over, the snow beneath their feet was red with blood, while body parts lay strewn across the snow, the warm blood still seeping from them causing thin wisps of steam to rise lazily into the air. Ivar carefully surveyed the carnage, making sure that no survivors remained, while Rathgar used the furry carcass of one Lycan to clean the blood from his sword.

"I counted twenty-four", Rathgar said while casually sheathing his sword.

"Then why are there only twenty-three bodies?"

Rathgar shot him a look, before they both disappeared in a blur, rushing through the forest with supernatural speed. It didn't take long to find it, the missing Lycan was severely wounded and painfully dragging itself across the snow, not far from the village. It had left a telltale trail of blood that led them straight to it, as it lay curled up in naked human form, whimpering and shivering with either cold or fear.

"I rather admire his tenacity", Ivar remarked, leisurely coming to a stop beside the Lycan.

Rathgar grunted in response, flicking his cloak behind him as he knelt beside the figure lying prone in the thick snow. The Lycan flinched, attempting to back away, but failing, as he fell back against the snow, groaning in pain.

"Do try not to overly exert yourself. Save your breath for my questions", Ivar scolded in a mocking tone.

The Lycan glared back at him, hissing between clenched teeth, a look of defiance edging across his features. He was young and lacked any distinguishing features that might define him as either handsome or otherwise, apart from the angry scar that ran from one side of his temple through his eye. It was clearly a recent scar, as the flesh was still puckered and pale pink along the edges. His breathing was harsh and rattled alarmingly loud in his chest, a sure indication that he didn't have much time left.

"Tell me who sent you and I'll make your death quick", Ivar coaxed, as if he were speaking to a child.

"Go to hell!", the Lycan spat, blood flying from his lips.

"But where do you think I came from?", Ivar scoffed.

"I will tell you nothing!", he wheezed, as his body was wracked with a fit of coughing.

"That would be most unwise. I can keep you alive, just barely, with my blood. Just enough to torture you until you tell me what I want to know. It will be agonizingly slow and painful but I can be patient...when it is advantageous for me to be", Ivar drawled, as he scratched his finger and watched as the blood trickled down onto the snow.

The Lycan's eyes grew wide with fear and he moved his lips but his voice was too weak to be heard. Ivar moved closer and bent over him, raising his head up off the snow, as he leaned down, close to his face. The Lycan breathed a single word, his breaths now shallow as his chest rapidly rose and fell. Ivar heard him, as clearly as if he had shouted it out, and released him, letting his body fall to the snow.

As Ivar turned to stand, the Lycan suddenly reached out and grabbed him by his arm, sinking his fangs deep into the fabric and piercing Ivar's skin. In an instant, the Lycan's head was ripped from his body and sent flying across the snow-covered ground. Rathgar cleaned the Lycan's blood from his hands in the soft, fresh snow before standing to look at Ivar.

Ivar's face darkened with rage and his eyes had turned a deep, charcoal gray, as he studied the wound on his arm.

"Well this won't do", he muttered softly.