Chapter Text
Rain pounded down in sheets. A dreary, cold evening. Not a time to be outside. If Arthur had prepared properly, he wouldn’t have to go hunting in the storm like this. But like an idiot, he’d been distracted.
Now the Hunger tore at his insides, drove him to the brink of madness. He didn’t care who he could bite tonight. Any poor helpless fool would do.
The rain plastered his hair to his forehead, dripping into his eyes. Arthur grimaced and pulled his cloak forward. Soaked. Tired. Irritable. And oh so hungry.
He ran his tongue across his teeth and, feeling the fangs there, winced. Deception and perfect preparation wouldn’t be possible tonight. His magic would be weak until he could feed. Crossing any sort of threshold would be impossible in this state.
He almost laughed. Who would have thought? Vampire legend of the century, the great Arthur Kirkland, weak as a babe and far from home. And for what? A single mortal distraction.
That damn priest.
~!~
Lightning flashed and thunder shook the small building on church grounds. Gilbert glanced out the window and shrugged at the rain pouring down the stained glass. He almost thought he’d seen someone out there, but that would be insane. No one would go to a cemetery on a dark, stormy evening like this.
So he turned back to the scrollwork in front of him and flipped through more pages. Records, really. Gilbert quite enjoyed his new acquaintance – a young count with a surprising amount of wealth available to impress – but something off itched at him.
Kirkland was a well-known name in these parts. The family would take up in a mansion on the hill every so often. One member of the family, at least. Separated from the town, its very presence gave way to rumors galore. And how whenever a family member came to visit the area, he was alone and he had very distinct family features. Blond hair, green eyes, and carrying the same name passed down from ages past.
Yet surely in the past there had to be records of more family. Surely a funeral, a death. Even if ti were back in the days of the plague, he had to be able to find something in church records.
But no matter how far back he looked -
A scratching at the wooden door brought him up short. With a frown, Gilbert closed the scrolls – he’d rarely gone back that far – and moved the lantern into a hook on a far wall. Wouldn’t want a gust of wind to knock it over and cause a fire over all those priceless records.
Who could be at the door?
Gilbert shook his head, running fingers through his silver hair. No, that didn’t make sense. Probably a loose branch blown by the storm. Or a hungry animal wanting shelter.
Still, best to be safe. Pulling a rosary out of his pocket, Gilbert wrapped the holy item around his wrist and nodded in satisfaction. A night like this could wake the dead. Couldn’t be too careful.
Gilbert opened the door. Wind and rain immediately slammed into him, rustling his priestly robes. Lightning illuminated the figure in front of him and he gasped. A cloak flew back to reveal blond hair, green eyes, and wicked half-smile with fangs gleaming in the dark. Arthur Kirkland, his latest acquaintance that he’d been researching just now. How ironic that he’d show up at his doorstep now.
A sickly pale hand reached for him - paler than Gilbert’s own skin in this dim light, like the dead – and Gilbert reached back completely forgetting the rosary hanging from his wrist. When the holy item brushed the palm of his friend – friend? no, acquaintance, no, more than that – Arthur hissed and pulled back. The creature dropped to his knees, looking wan and worse than ever, green eyes losing their gleam.
Creature, yes, he had thought that because -
Wetting his lips, Gilbert forced the words out. “Arthur, you’re a – a -”
Arthur grimaced and croaked back. “A vampire, yes.”
~!~
Arthur didn’t know why he had come here of all places. So many reasons to avoid this person. Distraction. Gilbert was meant to be a fun companion, not his next feeding target. And yet...here he was, kneeling before the man, the priest.
Shunned, unwelcome priest, in this addled town full of superstition. No one would miss him. He told you that himself. Who better to target?
Grimacing at his own thoughts, Arthur stared up at the pale skinned, red-eyed mortal. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
Strange, he didn’t intend to voice his thoughts. He must be weaker than he thought. Weak enough to disintegrate at the slightest touch of sunlight. Or maybe even before that. He was starving. The Hunger ate at him, a headache refusing to leave. Vision growing dim, he blinked up at the holy man before him and knew his end was near.
To his surprise, Gilbert tossed the holy item at his wrist, tossed it behind him where he clattered on a desk amid scrolls and books. Arthur blinked again. Slowly. Then the man reached out again.
“What do you need?” Gilbert asked. “You look awful.”
“Food,” Arthur murmured, feeling like he was only half here. “The Hunger…”
The priest whistled. “I assume you don’t mean normal food, either. So, what, did you come to feed...on me?”
Arthur shook his head. “Didn’t mean to come here.”
Silence stalked between them. Followed by a cry from the wind and the rain getting worse. Thunder cackled in his ears. Arthur closed his eyes. He could barely breathe, let alone think straight.
If he were to feed now, on Gilbert, he’d lose control. Holy blood had to be the sweetest, especially if offered freely. Had that ever happened before? No, not to him, though he’d heard of it from others of his kind. But the problem was losing control, wasn’t it?
He liked Gilbert. Hanging out with the far from sinless priest was entertaining. At times, innocent as a child. At others, devious as a devil in disguise. Did he have a choice, though?
Take him now. No one will miss him. No one at all.
He would though…
“Here,” Gilbert whispered, licking his lips, pushing his hand in front of Arthur’s gaze. “Take mine. Uh...wait...do you need to bite my neck or -?”
Before he could rethink it, Arthur snatched the hand in front of him. “This will do.”
Shutting his eyes, he released his fangs fully and found the smooth pulse point on Gilbert’s pale wrist. Such a sweet morsel so freely offered, he couldn’t refuse, no matter the risk to Gilbert’s life, no matter if the danger was known to his prey. After all, he was a vampire, not a saint. Mortals were all doomed to disappear from him eventually anyway. Too bad Arthur didn’t have enough power in his magic to turn Gilbert.
A priest turned vampire would be one for the history books.