yawn Stuck at home with a sprained ankle now, I decided to write the second part of CotN. I think that’s karma or what have you. ..And I’ve been reading reviews of Feathers On The Wind…I may only have three reviews but at least they’re GOOD!! HAHAHAHAHAH!! chokegaspcough ahem, sorry. Got carried away.

WARNING: High violence, religion bashing, child abuse themes, homosexual themes, self-insertion ect. If ya haven’t read the warning for the first one then…well. Thanks fir the comments on the first one too. All characters not from VHD are © me (The Joker Of Wonderland) be nice or I’ll have a blade jammed between yer eyes J . I’d also like to thank RA Salvatore for inspiration on Miguel and Ann Rice/ White-wolf for the vamp and the boy, Marcus and Angelo. D f

Angelo stumbled up the stairs after Marcus, mind whirling with the memories of what had just passed. As the two exited the catacombs beneath and entered the church above, Marcus’s green eyes took in the sights of the walls and corridors. A sneer on his face, he began striding forward towards the end of the corridor and prepared to turn left.

“What year is this?” he asked the stumbling boy behind him.

Angelo told him and then, realising where the vampire was heading, lunged forward and grasped his arm. Marcus turned and looked at him in an amused fashion.

Angelo, blushing, shook his head. “Not that way, that’s the altar. If they see you they might know what you are, go to the library.” He tugged the vampire in the opposite direction, leading him towards what he hoped was to be a sanctuary for a time.

Glancing around, making sure no one saw them, he pushed the double doors open and slipped in, Marcus following. Angelo closed the doors and raised his eyes to the high ceiling, sighing in a sort of euphoria. He had always loved reading, he had always dreamed of becoming a humble librarian. But his father and two eldest brothers were priests, so he had been sent to the church in some hope that he too would one day don the white collar. Angelo’s father, a strict and unbending man, had treated him as an acolyte rather than a son. Angelo had never truly believed in anything that he had been told as a boy, and he didn’t believe it now.

Maybe that’s why he had been spared while Father Julian had been killed.

That was something he would never forget. But what had the vampire meant when he had said ‘he deserved what he got’? Was it because he had disturbed the vampire’s rest?

He turned to Marcus, ready to voice the question. But found the vampire had walked in front of him and was now running a finger along the spines of some of the books, a look of childish glee on his face.

“I have spent to long in torpor, had I know that the world had changed so much I would have awakened earlier…” He plucked a book from the selves and, with a gesture, caused a chair to appear in front of him. He sat down, opening the book and began to read.

Angelo coughed discreetly, attracting the vampire’s attention.

“The priest that you … fed on. What did you mean when you said he abused his power?” His voice was hesitant, hoping that the being across the room would take no offence.

Marcus crossed his long legs, a few seconds of undisguised fury caused his eyes to burn again. Angelo stepped back, fearing the worst.

“He had used his high standing as an excuse for a crime another was blamed for. He took the life of that same person for nothing more than the fact his reputation would be slandered.” Angelo’s eyes widened.

“Wh-who?” He couldn’t finish, it was too surreal, too impossible…

“A boy. Younger than yourself, he was sleeping with him.” With a nonchalant shrug, the vampire returned to the book. “Do you have any cloaks? We will be leaving soon and I believe disguising ourselves as best we can will be an advantage.”
Angelo, momentarily speechless, nodded mutely and walked from the library and out into the corridor. He headed right, towards his room, head spinning.

Miguel yawned and shifted his weight on the tree branch he sat on. He had been waiting for his ‘client’ now for fifteen minuets and he wasn‘t here.

Miguel hated to wait.

The vampire brushed a few loose locks of long dark curly hair from his eyes. Normally he would have hidden the golden orbs behind a pair of dark round glasses, but tonight he wanted to make an impression, even if it was the last thing the man would ever see. Running two fingers down the length of his pistol, he considered again if he should just simply shoot the worthless piece of flesh and be done with it quickly. He chuckled to himself and pushed the weapon back into it’s holster. Would he spoil his own fun just for a quick kill?

Of course not.

As a vampire, Miguel had never fallen into the deeper sleep that claimed his kin. He had been awake for centuries since he had been made, and had relished every second of it. The twentieth and twenty first century, ah, they had been fun. Women dressed like men, men like women. Androgyny ruled, clubs drew in crowds like flies to rotting flesh, any God that had been there was forgotten. Pulled from his throne by rebellious mortals in an ecstasy of pumping music and alcohol.

How he had loved it.

But this was not the time to dwell on such thoughts, his…target had arrived. Miguel smiled and dropped from his branch to land silently behind the man as he lit a cigarette. The man must have sensed something wrong because he turned around…and came face to face with the vampire’s wide smile.

“Hello.” The man’s smoke dropped from his lips and he turned to run, but Miguel was, by far, faster. He grabbed the human by his thick, filth covered neck and rammed him into the tree, claws pricking his skin. The mortal’s piggy eyes widened as he struggled to draw breath, hands scrabbling uselessly at Miguel’s wrist.

“I believe you have something of my employer’s ?” He reached in to the wretches pants and pulled out a small, brown pouch. Holding it up to his face and sniffing it, he raised one eyebrow. Taking his hand from the man’s throat, quickly placing his foot there in case the human somehow got the notion into his head of escape, pulled open the drawstrings and reached inside.

When his hand came back, a large, many faceted emerald gleamed between his thumb and forefinger. With a satisfactory nod, he dropped the jewel back into it’s home and stuffed the pouch in his own pocket. Turning back to the human, still pinned to the tree, he marvelled at how the would-be thief tried to throw him off balance by pushing at his foot. Didn’t the fool know what he was? With an exaggerated sigh, he folded his arms and tilted his head to the side.

“And what, do you suppose I should do with you?” as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

The thief, glanced around again before hesitantly replying “Y-You could, uh, le-lemme go?”

Miguel brightened. “What a good idea! Why I could release you and you could just run along and forget this ever happened, couldn’t you.” he watched the mortal nod encou-ragingly, a small smile on his face. “But, unfortunately, I am rather hungry. I haven’t fed for several days because of tracking you. It would only be fair that you compensated for this loss with your life.” he watched his meal’s face twist and contort in terror at his words and the cheery tone of his voice. He grabbed the man by his shoulders and pulled him from the tree and to him, lips drawing back from his teeth and as he bit down.

The song the blood seemed to sing as it flowed down his lips, down his throat, intoxicated him. He felt as his he where bleeding the world, the universe. He couldn’t get enough, more and more and more until he would burst. Regaining his sense at the sound of bone cracking, he reluctantly released the body and let it drop to the ground. Only then noticing that it was still alive. The bones on the human’s arms where snapped, shard of bone breaking through the skin, the ribs where the same; Miguel guessed one or two had pieced the lungs, the mortal would die soon enough from drowning in his own blood. If not from blood loss.

He suddenly noticed something on the ground, a rolled up piece of paper; from the thief’s bag he guessed. A sudden soft rustling made him lift his head and caught sight of a tall, black clad figure across the clearing, he smiled slowly.

“Couldn’t you just tell me in the customary manner?” The newcomer didn’t move, he just stared.

“I do not usually work with another. But I believe I will required the assistance for this.” The voice was male, that was for sure, and carried an air of disdain. This one preferred to avoid contact, the paper was his way of briefing the vampire of the job he would be hired to do.

“Really. Well, since we have only worked together once and you nearly killed me that time, I’m assuming that this must be important?” He made it a question, his silent companion didn’t bother to answer and walked over to the ‘corpse’, gloved fingers gliding over the victim’s throat and chest before clenching into a fist.

“He’s still alive.” Miguel said offhandedly, unrolling the document and reading it over. “Help yourself.” Turning around, he watched the taller arrival straighten up and begin to walk away.

“I now remember why I long to kill you.” with that statement, he disappeared into the forest as silently as he came. Miguel watched him go, his eyes showing a glimmer of pain. A cough broke through his thoughts and he turned towards the dying mortal he had fed on.

“B-bastard…” Blood poured from his mouth and nose and with choking gasp he lay still.

“Now, I wonder how he knew that…” Miguel murmured, with a shrug he returned to the paper, re-reading it.

Miguel threw back his head and laughed and laughed and laughed.