Chapter Three

"Why does your kind always give speeches before they attack?" Damien demanded to the paralyzed vampire as he drew his machete. "Even the best of you is given over to speeches. You gave me all the time I needed to reload."

"Wait," Spyke groaned, struggling to move his body, "he promised ... it would be ... different."

"Vampires lie." Damien beheaded the vampire.

Behind him, the vampiress let out a wheezing gasp.

"I'll attend to you in a moment," Damien nodded and looked around the room. There was a young woman naked in the corner, blood dribbling from her neck and thighs. She had been fed upon. Most vampires could spend days drinking from a victim before they died, keeping them in a state of euphoria. Vampire venom was a potent drug.

Damien knelt beside the victim and touched her throat. Her pulse was thready.

"You're a survivor," he told the wounded girl. "You'll make it through. He didn't ruin you."

Damien attended to the vampiress with his machete.

The Angel watched Damien behead the female vampire before attending to the wounded, young woman. Her white wings flapped as she floated in the Ether. "What are my odds for success, Gideon?"

"9%," Gideon answered her. The second angel drifted towards her in the Ether, the immaterial realm between Life and Beyond. "His psyche profile indicates he will be hard to manipulate, Aurora."

Aurora nodded, her wings beating faster as she studied Damien. He was a handsome mortal, tall and athletic, with dark hair and the shadow of stubble across his squared jaw. He was confident and skilled, practiced at his craft. He dispatched three vampires with ease. Even if the vampires were unskilled, it was an impressive feat.

"I have chosen my incarnation," Aurora answered. "I will make sure Damien chooses correctly."

"Even with Jezebel prowling around, working her foul designs?"

Aurora's wings glowed whiter. She fought the urge to curse at the demon. "Have they let her out of Perdition again?"

"Looks like it," Gideon answered.

"She will not deter me this time," Aurora declared. Her enmity with Jezebel stretched back a thousand years.

The demon lounged on the floor of the van Father Augustine waited in, studying the priest. He was a tall man and lanky, his body almost devoid of flesh. He was all sharp angles. Hard, blue eyes monitored the equipment while a hand absently scratched at his temples. His hair was black save for a pair of iron-gray wings sweeping from his temples.

Jezebel fluttered her black wings, her fingers itching to corrupt. She was on the edge of the Ether, almost manifested into Life but just out of reach of mortal senses. The angels were buzzing around the van like annoying flies. She had no idea why that cow Aurora had shown up. God damned harpy, always zipping around and taking away all my fun.

Their last clash had resulted in Jezebel's banishment to Perdition for a hundred years.

The back of the van opened up and Damien climbed in cradling a wounded girl. The vampire hunter had dispatched his quarry with ease. Jezebel hated how pure Damien was. He barely had any sinful thoughts in his head, devoted to his pretty wife and their crusade against vampires.

What a waste, and with that body.

But the priest seethed with sin. She could feel the vile thoughts leaking out of him. Father Augustine loved to stare at the pretty, young parishioners of his church, especially in confession. He would make the girls spell out in detail all of their naughty, sexual sins, his cock rigid beneath his cassock.

Jezebel fluttered her wings and set to work, whispering her corruption from the Ether. Perdition had plans, regardless of any Angels fluttering around causing trouble.

Damien's phone chirped as Father Augustine pulled the van up to Albuquerque International Sunport Airport. The hunt had finished up hours ago, the young woman taken to a hospital where she would, hopefully, recover.

Damien fished his out of his pocket and swiped the screen. Relief flooded him as he read the message.

"Abigail's hunt was successful?" Augustine inquired.

"Yeah," Damien nodded, reading the text from his wife.

"Thank the Lord," the priest smiled, rubbing his bony hands together.

"She dispatched the vampire in our old high school," Damien frowned. "Strange."

"The same place where you killed Vincent?"

Damien read the text again. "Hun, 1 vamp dusted in our old cafeteria. Spooky being back. Mom's doing better. On the way home. I think I'll beat you back."

"Yeah." Damien shook his head. "Small world." Damien didn't like to think about fourteen years ago. He could still feel the boiling anger as he beat Vincent's head to a pulp with the stolen silver cross while poor Frank bled out nearby, his throat torn out by the vampire.

"Well, safe travels," Father Augustine smiled, "I'll see you and Abby in a few days."

The priest had a two drive back. The equipment in the back would never make it past airport screening. Father Augustine always drove the van to the hunt. "I enjoy the solitude," the priest would always say. "Time for me and the Lord to get closer together."

"You be safe, too, Father," Damien said as he climbed out of the van, his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. He still wore his leather duster, but had made sure to strip off all his weapons and leave them in the van. After a successful hunt, being arrested by the TSA because he forgot to remove a silver knife from his back pocket would be embarrassing.