Darkness swirled around Jei as he crept carefully over the stone floor, his prey rising from his prayer. The priest's robes were worn and light, the creases of the cleaners evident, and after making the sign of the cross the man turned. Silence besides the footsteps echoed in the large building, and Jei stepped from the shadows, head bowed as he waited.

"My son. Are you in need?" The priest called, noticing the bowed figure of a man dressed in black. Red hair stood shocking from the color contrast and he switched to English, his French Accent coming through.

"Sir?"

Jei carefully raised and made the sign of the cross before turning to face his prey. "Father." He greeted, steady footsteps leading him to the man. "Have you sinned?" He asked. The priest, confused, looked at Jei and lifted his hand to touch the foreigner's arm.

"Are you in need of confession?" He asked.

"No, but you are." He said calmly, smiling for the first time. Fangs gleamed in the light and the man paused, slightly hesitant in his questions.

"Me? I go to the Bishop for such things." He explained.

"Sin is heavy, hangs on the soul." Jei continued on, ignoring the priest's words. The slight fear mixed with curiosity washed over him and he took a deep breath, senses buzzing with anticipation. "Réquiem aetérnam dona ei, Dómine, et lux perpétua lúceat ei. Offeréntes eam in conspéctu Altìssimi. Kýrie eléison.Christe eléison.Kýrie eléison."

The priest visibly paled, and Jei continued on the priest's grip becoming tighter as Jei continued the prayer for the dying. "Et ne nos indúcas in tentatiónem. Sed libera nos a malo. Réquiem aetérnam dona ei, Dómine. Et lux perpétua lúceat ei. A porta ìnferi. Erue, Dómine, ánimam ejus.Réquiescat in pace. Amen"

Using his empathy, Jei raised the fear, leaving the man so afraid he couldn't move, and sank his fangs into the soft flesh. Blood filled his mouth and he drank, pulling his victim closer, as the emotions washed over him, tinting the pleasure he received to a higher level. It was like chocolate, dark, rich, and so heady, addictive.

Dropping the corpse, he bent down and carefully opened the robes, a knife appearing into his hand. The shirt underneath was cut open and he began his art, making each letter stand out, as the skin sank into itself. No blood can from the wound, and he smiled, leaning back on his heel to study his work.

Scents of human whiffed by and he moved back, shadows gathering around him, as the vampire disappeared into the night. The nuns who came in soon after found Father Lucas hands out to his sides and legs together, a mimic of the cross that loomed overhead. In his chest was carved one word, SINEATER