Aeternum

(Eternal)

Chapter 1

Lux in Tenebris

(Light in Darkness)

Greg Lestrade

Greg took a long drag off of his cigarette holding it for a moment in order to savor the familiar burn feeling his tension lessen before releasing a plume of smoke into the air with a tired sigh. He really should quit. Bad habits had a way of catching up to you. He was getting too old for this. Greg let the comforting weight of the relic around his neck soothe him. It was no ordinary necklace for inside the small pendant was a chip of bone belonging to St. Jude the Apostle, the patron saint of lost causes. It served as one of his most powerful wards, an ordination gift given to him by his long deceased mentor, it had been passed down among their order for centuries. His eyes drifted over the blood stained church. Those words were too familiar, eerily familiar. The words on the church's floor haunted him bringing back memories that he would rather forget. How had he gotten here? How had he become a wayward priest? It had been a long journey with many twists and turns that had led him here. He was an unlikely savior, a priest whose faith was tested daily, yet he still remained one of the last of his kind, one of the few trained and able to fight the darkness.

He had been raised in London by French ex-pats. Both of his parents had been devout Catholics. Ironically, Greg had rebelled against the arcane rules and rituals within the church and though he was sent to Catholic school and served as an alter boy, he had lacked true faith as a youth. In order to avoid world war three with his family, Greg had simply gone through the motions from baptism, to communion, to confirmation at the age of 14. Sometimes he wondered how he had made it through the Catholic school system without being expelled. He smiled as he remembered nicking the sacramental wine before the service and having a pleasant buzz throughout the mass. No one had caught on. He never missed a cue. He had cut his catechism classes whenever possible. The Enchiridion had been unbearably dull, but he had always managed to pass his exams with flying colors, even classes that most other students failed, like Latin. That subject had been one of the few that Greg had enjoyed and because he was fluent in French he took to it naturally. The history of it fascinated him; the Roman Empire had been a thing of awe in its prime. It also helped that Greg had been fond of the teacher, Father Giuseppe Tragillio, who would later become his mentor. Unlike most priests, the old Sicilian had a wicked sense of humor laced with dark undertones and sarcasm.

Even with his parents urging, Greg was sure that if it hadn't been for that horrific encounter, he would have likely eventually fallen away from the church and become just another lapsed Catholic, but God had other plans. Libera nos a malo. Deliver us from Evil. Evil existed and Greg had seen it for the first time that night, the night that had changed his life forever.

He had been 15 at the time and his mother at come to visit him at school over the weekend. His father had died the year before and they had both taken it hard. His mother had promised to come visit more often and Greg had appreciated the gesture. They had been walking back to the Cathedral after going out for a late dinner on their way to Greg's dorm. They passed by the graveyard and were nearly to the church when it happened. His mother had screamed as something knocked her down moving at lightening speed. Her screams quickly faded and were replaced by choked gasps and wet rattling wheezes. Greg had screamed and watched in horror as his mother was bitten on the neck and the creature pinned her down and drank her blood. "Stop!" He had pulled the thing off of his mother and when he met its eyes his blood had run cold. The yellow irises and slit pupils were disorienting, but what had been worse was the inhuman hiss that had escaped from the creatures mouth as it opened wide. Long razor sharp fangs dripping with blood glinted at him. Greg had let go and backed up horrified. Water was flung at them hitting both Greg and the creature and the creature hissed in pain as the smell of burning flesh cloaked the air.

"Gregory, Run! Get into the church, it can't touch you there!" The familiar voice of Father Tragillio warned. Greg didn't think twice and for once did as the old Sicilian priest ordered without question. As he crossed the threshold of the church, he looked back and was shocked by what he saw. The priest came at the creature head on and as it lunged at him making a grab for his throat with its dark claws, Father pulled a wooden steak with a sharpened tip from under his Cossack and plunged it into the creatures heart. After a pained screech, it disintegrated to dust as if it had never been. Greg heard Father whisper. "Misereatur tui omnipotens Deus." May almighty God have mercy upon you. Father had then crouched down next to his mother, after checking for a pulse, he shook his head and sighed deeply and murmured in a pained voice "Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum" May the peace of the Lord be always with you. Greg began to shake and his breathing and heart rate doubled as the reality of what he had just witnessed hit him fully. His mother was dead, killed by what appeared to be a vampire.

Father Tragillio made the sign of the cross and murmured something so low that Greg couldn't catch it over his mother's body. He took the steak and craved unfamiliar symbols into the ground around his mother's body, which pulsed and glowed softly before fading away. He then got up slowly looking as if each movement caused him pain. He turned towards Greg and made his way into the church looking, not haunted as one might expect, but tired and weary. "I'm sorry, Gregory. I came too late for your mother, but I promise you her soul is now safe from darkness." His thick Sicilian accent colored his words and diction the extra vowels making it sound almost musical.

"Father…what was that?" Greg asked looking the old priest in the eye and shivering at the intense gaze, which the man pinned him with.

"Gregory…you have two choices. You can forget everything that you just saw and live in ignorance as the majority of people do or you can learn the truth, but to know the truth I need something from you." Greg swallowed around the lump in his throat before answering.

"What?" Greg asked in a voice that wavered with emotion. Father sighed and rather than answer he pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from inside his Cossack and lit up taking a deep drag. After a moment of surprise at the sight of Father smoking, Greg felt his anger building, not at Father, the man had done his best, but at the thing that had killed his mother, leaving him alone in the world without a single relative left, both of his grandparents were dead and he was an only child. He had to know what that thing was. He had to know if his suspicions were true.

"A vow." Father answered. Greg raised an eyebrow prompting him to continue. "And an oath of loyalty. Gregory, have you ever considered joining the priesthood? There is an ancient order, which has nearly been forgotten. I am one of the few that remain." Greg couldn't hold back a laugh because, frankly, the idea was absurd. Greg become a priest? Greg couldn't think of anyone less qualified for that calling than him.

"Father, I hate to tell you this, but I don't have faith. Don't you need faith to become a priest?" Greg asked in a hollow voice feeling hopelessness and grief overcome him. Alone, he was utterly alone at the age of 15.

"Faith can build with time, my son. You have just seen evil tonight, but know that there is a balance to everything. Goodness and evil are everywhere even within you. Lux in Tenebris. Light in darkness. Greg bit his lip and let Father's words sink in. He had nowhere to go and no family left. What did he have to lose? If it didn't work out, he could always quit.

"Father…I need to know the truth and if that means taking religious vows then so be it. But remember, I did warn you. I'll be a lousy priest." The old man smiled and answered softly.

"That, my son, remains to be seen." It was that same night that Greg learned the truth about the world and about the evils that lay hidden in the shadows and the few that hunted them.

Greg coughed and pulled himself from his musing. He had work to do. He had been called upon to investigate a weeping statue, which the people had proclaimed to be a miracle that had been drawing a small but steady pilgrimage. Greg wished that he had been called sooner, the church had only decided that it was worth investigating after a number of people committed suicide within the statue's presence. Greg looked around the empty church. The alter was still stained with the blood of one of the victims. The blood splatter from the gunshot arched up onto the large crucifix. This was no miracle, of that much he was certain, there was something unnatural afoot, however. What it was exactly, he couldn't say. The marble statue of the Virgin Mary stood with blood stained tear tracks running down its full length the blood pooled at the feet. Greg ran his finger down one of the trails and whispered "Hic est sanguinis mei." This is my blood. The blood turned black. No miracle, quite the opposite. Below the puddle, the familiar Latin phrase Lux in Tenebris was spelled out in blood. Light in darkness. Ancient runes surrounded the statue. Greg squinted and studied them but couldn't place their origin or translate them. That was unusual. Greg had a knack for languages and it was very rare for him to come across something that he couldn't at least partially translate. He moved towards the holy water font and scooped up a palm full. He splashed it over the runes causing them to smoke and sizzle as the smell of brimstone filled the air. "Demon," Greg murmured under his breath as he glanced around warily clutching the heavy beads of his rosary made of pure silver, which lay concealed within the folds of his Cossack.

Greg was one of the few priests left that was trained in the ancient ways of the occult. Few knew that the lore was based in truth. There were things not of this world, which were hidden from most, both good and evil; the darkness and the light. They were the things of nightmares and fairytales, which had long ago faded into legend: angels, demons, vampires, zombies, sprites, elves, witches, mages and hunters. Greg's eyes moved to the stained glass windows to the outer buttresses, their ledges were empty. The gargoyles had fled, another bad omen. The sentinels of the church only came to life when something evil slipped in. They only moved at night and with the sun high in the sky and the ledges empty, it was safe to assume that they were gone, never to return. It took something of great power to take down a gargoyle. Greg would need help with this one and he knew just who to call. Sherlock Holmes.