Disclaimer: Priest and its characters belong to Scott Stewart.
Claimer: I own Ava.
Chapter #1: Turned a New Leaf
There are many who believe they are their own destiny—a single unit detached from the rest of the world. They are the main controllers of their actions and outcomes. This is not true, for everything in life is connected, whether it is directly or indirectly. Depending on what action you take, or how you execute it will effect what outcome you are linked to. If you are destined to accomplish something, have something, or even meet someone, then it will happen regardless of your actions. Only the select few that get everything right witness the wonders of what follows. Now, the outcomes aren't always happy like one would prefer. Horrors beyond imagination can and will occur should the wrong choices be made. People, animals, plants, and even the simplest of organisms are connected to each other depending on their nature and what choices they make—how they use their resources. Even the most opposite and dissimilar of people can be connected by a single occurrence—accidental or planned. You can be linked to someone even if something happens that wasn't supposed to. But everyone is connected to someone, situation good... or bad. Human… or inhuman.
She exhaled a weighty sigh, shoulders slouching with the action as her fingers tapped idly on the ragged steering wheel. Her dark chestnut hair blew about gently with the wind that rushed past through the open window, causing her to fling a piece from her face in annoyance as it fell in her eyes. Her destination was not far from her reach at this point, the outline of her town already visible in the far distance. After completing a two-day journey between towns, she was ready to retire to her bed and get some shuteye, but God had other plans for her that night; for it was right at that moment that she caught eye of something on the ground roughly two hundred feet away, blemishing the flat, smooth sands. Squinting, she leaned forwards in her seat. It was too dark to be a rock, and too large to be a dog or any animal that she had seen around these parts.
"What the hell…?"
Turning the steering wheel, she redirected the truck's path towards the strange heap. It wasn't until she was closer that she came to the abrupt realization that it was a man. He was clad completely in black, and if she hadn't been paying attention she may have missed him completely in the dimness of the night.
"Jesus!"
Putting the truck in park, she hastily jumped out and approached him, drawing her gun in the process as a simple precaution. Outsiders were not common here, and so she cautioned this stranger despite the fact he was clearly incapacitated. Injured or not, even people could react rashly if awakened suddenly from a confused blackout. Gently, she nudged him with her foot, but he showed no signs of stirring, so she took to cautiously kneeling down at his side. Her eyes instantly noted the burned and tattered clothes he was wearing, and by what she could tell they were freshly inflicted, but he was breathing. Reaching forward, she took him by the shoulder and carefully rolled him onto his back so she could get a better look at his face, only to pause when she saw the distinctive mark on the forehead.
"A priest…?" She gave him another inquisitive onceover. "You do not look the part, hun…" What was a priest doing in these parts? And alone?
Pushing his coat aside, she gently rolled up his shirt, which was beyond repair. It appeared as though most of the damage had been done to his front, as if the blast had hit him face on. Vicious-looking burns blotched his stomach, and his face had suffered as well, but they were less serious. She assumed he had shielded himself with his arms, blocking most of the blow from his face, but the less protected flesh of his torso and neck had suffered. It was a wonder to her how he had managed to make it this far with injuries as severe at this. The pain must have been incredible.
She released a small huff. "What the hell happened to you, buddy?" Standing, she picked up the black hat that lay beside him and walked around behind him before slipping her arms under his. With a forceful lift, she heaved up his upper body and proceeded to drag him back towards the truck, knowing she couldn't just leave him there. "You better be nice when you wake up…"
After a great deal of effort, she had managed to get him into the truck and to town, but not without receiving a plentiful number of stares as she dragged his limp body back out of the truck to take him into her home. She had been approached by a man whom she was familiar with on a friendly scale, and despite his obvious skepticism towards the stranger he had aided her in carrying him into the bedroom, where he was set down on the bed.
"Are you sure about this, Ava? A priest? The guy don't even look like one."
"I can't just leave him to die, Jonathan."
"For all you know he's gone rogue. I mean, look at 'im. You ever seen a priest that looks like this?"
"Why don't we wait until he's awake and give him a fair chance to explain himself?" She looked up at him finally. "He's injured and needs medical attention. We can't just jump to conclusions out of fear."
He hardly appeared reassured. "Should I get the doc?"
She shook her head. "I can handle it. I've treated burns before."
"All right," he sighed. "Give a call if you need anything. I gotta get back to the house."
"Not a problem, love. Get back to your wife and boy."
Once he was gone, she was able to focus all of her attention on her patient. Gently, she began to strip him down. Pulling off his dust-coated boots, she tossed them aside before unbuckling his belt and tugging down the tattered pants. There were a few minor burns on his legs as well, but nothing too serious. The trench coat went after, but she was a bit more careful while removing his ruined shirt; for the fabric had been scorched to his skin from the severity of the burns on his torso. After a few minutes, she had managed to detach the clothing completely and tossed that aside as well, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Now able to see his injuries more clearly, she began with the most severe, figuring that if he woke up it would be better if those were already done with. Being as gentle as possible, she used a metal scrape to remove the dead skin. Luckily, the bleeding was minimal, and she was able to apply the ointment with little to no hassle.
He never flinched as she worked—not a single twitch. It was an honest concern she had that he'd fallen into some sort of coma, but only time would tell. Using a damp cloth and warm, soapy water, she took the liberty to wipe him down. Her guess was he had taken a rough fall or had been in a fight prior to whatever caused the burns, because he was covered in a layer of dust, dirt, and blood. A rather nasty stab wound in his neck had caused blood to trickle down to his shoulder, which was now dry and coagulated for the most part. It was a mystery to her as to how he had survived such an injury, especially when she had seen the blood around his lips. She would have given him blood as an extra precaution, but she had no way of telling what his blood type was, and in the end she decided it too risky. Dipping the cloth in the basin, she gently began to clean his face, taking a moment to give his features a good study in the process. If the situation had been less death-defying, he would have been someone she'd have found handsomely attractive, masculine features lax with temporary coma. Granted, he was a bit scruffy, but, then again, all priests looked a little rough around the edges. Aside from the burns, his body also contained a collection of impressive scars. One was a set of deep claw marks that raked over his left shoulder. Without realizing it, her eyes had softened as she looked him over.
"Poor baby," she muttered pensively. Reaching up, she gently whisked a couple stray hairs from his face.
It was hours later that the first pinpricks of consciousness began to poke at his brain. Bit by bit, dull flickers of light punctured the darkness he had fallen into, rousing his comatose mind into some sort of comprehension. Consciousness came with a price, however, as he released a sharp hiss at a pain that seemed to consume his entire body. Lifting a hand, he gingerly touched the source where it was most prominent, frowning when his fingers brushed over a strange fabric. It was then he became aware of something else that grabbed his attention. The rough, hot sand had been replaced with something soft and warm. Slowly, he willed his eyes to open, and he was greeted with the first glimpses of his surroundings. He was in a dark room, the only light being from the lamp sitting on the nightstand beside the bed he was laying on
After a moment, he managed to push himself up into a sitting position, wincing faintly at the pain the burns inflicted as they were strained, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been in previous hours. No matter. They would be healed by sunrise. He had no time to sit around like a sick infant. He needed to return to the queen before those bastards reached her first. Everything from the day prior came rushing back in a violent flood, as a barely detained rage boiled to life within his gut, causing his blood to simmer. They would pay. He would make them all suffer for what they had done.
Reaching down, he grabbed a fistful of the blanket covering him and threw it aside—only to pause suddenly when he felt a draft flow over his body. Head snapping down, his eyes flew wide when he realized he was practically nude. Snapping his head up, he looked around for his clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. All he was presented with was a pair of clean black pants and black button-up shirt on the nightstand. Completely ignoring the pain, he practically jumped up from the bed and snatched the clothes off the table. He quickly pulled on the pants and buckled the belt before shrugging on the shirt, gingerly buttoning it despite the fact it was rubbing up against his wounds.
Then all of a sudden his head snapped up when he heard the door handle jiggling, body freezing as it opened to reveal a young froze visibly when she had lifted her head to see him standing there before her. It had honestly startled her, but she managed to collect herself quickly enough.
"I wasn't expecting you to be up. How do you feel?"
"Where am I?" he demanded.
"You're in Firestone. I found you unconscious a few miles outside the town's borders." Slowly, she approached him, and he looked down when she handed him a folded article of clothing. "Your pants and shirt were a hopeless cause, but our tailor was able to save your coat and hat."
He took them from her quickly, wasting no time in fitting the hat onto his head. He tipped the rim down to hide his eyes from her view as he shrugged on his coat. "…Thank you."
She folded her arms over her chest, eyeing him carefully. "Aren't you in pain? Those burns are pretty serious… and you're wearing clothes on top of them."
He stared at her silently for a lengthy moment. "Who are you?"
"You can call me Ava. I'm going to assume you won't tell me yours. I don't think I've ever heard anyone address a priest by their actual name."
A grim smirk stretched across his lips at hearing her call him a priest. She didn't know. Despite the fact he was thirsting for the taste of the red nectar that ran through her veins, he would allow her to live for her services. There were plenty of other people in this town he could quench his thirst with.
"I appreciate the help, darlin'." Tipping his hat at her, he made for the door, but he was taken aback when her arm swiftly shot out in front of him, blocking his path. Looking back to her face, he saw she was setting him with a firm stare.
"You're not going anywhere until you answer some questions, buddy."
He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Oh?"
"What's with the gun slinger getup? No offense, but you hardly look like a priest."
The smirk was renewed. "You could say I've… turned a new leaf."
He watched as her eyes narrowed a fraction. She was suspicious of him, but it hardly mattered. She was no match for him.
"I figured as much," she said at last, and then a gun was suddenly up against his throat. "But that doesn't answer my question. Who are you?"
He just might have laughed, but he held it back with a wry grin. "My, my… such hostility."
The gun's nose pressed a little harder against his throat as a response, and there was a small click as it was cocked in warning. Her eyes were fierce, green orbs drilling holes through him.
"You know…" he began, "it's not a good idea to point a gun so close… because it makes it easy to do this." At the word "this", he had abruptly turned, whacking the gun from her grasp and taking it in his own in the same motion. When he pressed it against her head, however, she had been ready for him, and he was met with another gun to his face within the same second. She'd had a spare ready for him. This time he did allow a heart chuckle to leave his lips. "You're quick."
"I thought priests didn't use guns," she replied coolly.
He smirked. "You're right. My apologies." With that, he twirled the gun in his hand and handed it back to her so she could take it by the handle, watching as her eyes shifted to it before back to him in suspicion. Slowly, she reached up and took it from him, and after some serious contemplation she hesitantly allowed her other gun to lower.
"Who are you?" she questioned, her voice low.
Before he was able to speak, both their attentions were suddenly turned upwards by a shrill, female scream that came from outside.
"What the hell?" Ava said.
"Looks like my ride's here."
She looked back to him, frowning when she saw the more than pleased grin that had spread across his face. That was when she saw them. Fangs. He had fangs. Lips parting, she took a couple steps back from him, her eyes having widened.
"You're…"
Turning to her, his smirk grew when he saw the look of shock in her eyes. "Turned a new leaf."
She bolted. Her speed caught him momentarily off guard, taking him completely aback when she leapt clear out of the open window. Her hands caught a horizontal bar just outside, and with the maneuvering of a professional gymnast her body was swooping upwards and out of sight. Quirking an eyebrow, he went to the window and looked up, but she had disappeared. Clever girl.
Ava's eyes swam with horror as she overlooked the chaos before her. Vampires. There were vampires attacking the town. She watched as people were pounced, crashing to the ground as their screams rang through the air. Smoke entered her nostrils from the fires, as an indescribable horror froze her blood within her veins. Within seconds, the entire town had flows up into fiery bedlam. Then suddenly, she froze when she heard what sounded like a low growl behind her. Without thinking about it or turning to face the noise, she ran forward and leapt from the roof of the building, narrowly avoiding the clawed hand that lashed out at her from behind. Her hands caught a pole on her way down, which she used to slide to the ground. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, she took off at a full sprint. People were being slaughtered left and right, their screams ringing in her ears with the snarls and shrieks of the vampires. Not too far from her, she watched as a woman was tackled to the ground, as the vampire's fangs sunk into her neck.
"NO!" Pulling out a dagger, she threw it as hard as she could, and it impaled the distracted creature through the cranium, but it didn't matter. The woman was already dead. She was forced to recoil violently when a man suddenly came crashing through the window she was standing in front of, and her eyes flew wide as the sight of the vampire on top of him. When she realized who the man was, her heart skipped a beat.
"Jonathan!"
"Run, Ava!" he shouted at her, barely holding back the vampire's snapping jaws from tearing into his throat.
Bending down, she snatched up a large, jagged shard of broken glass and ran at them. When Jonathan saw this, his eyes lit up with horror.
"NO, AVA!"
The vampire looked up with a snarl right as she had raised her arm to strike, and the next second she found herself on her back with a pair of three-inch-long fangs making a frenzied attempt at her jugular. Her arm had shot up last second, blocking the creature by pressing up against its neck. Looking next to her, she quickly grabbed the glass shard from the ground, and then she was driving it upwards into the monster's belly. It released a shrill, irate screech, as she dragged the sharpened glass down its middle, slicing it open like a bloodied piñata. Blood poured out from the wound, drenching her in the repugnant fluid as she shoved the beast off her with a determined shout. It continued to writhe for another a moment or so before falling still, dead. Jonathan had appeared over her seconds later, and she took his hand as he offered it to her.
"Jonathan, you need to get out of here! Go; you can take my motorcycle. It's the fastest in town."
"I'm not leaving without you, Ava!"
"There's not enough room for me. Is Isobel and your boy still alive?"
"I have them hidden."
"Then go before they are found." At his hesitation, she gave his chest a firm push. "GO! I'll be alright. Go!"
Although he hardly appeared willing, he finally turned and took off in the opposite direction. Once he was out of sight, she returned her attention to the battlegrounds. She guessed a rough estimate of about thirty vampires, but where had they come from? Her mind traveled back to the man she had brought into her home. He was one of them. The fangs in his mouth were proof enough of that. That meant he was part of this. He was in on it, and she had brought him here. She had brought his upon the town. The vampires were here, not only to feed, but for their master.
"Oh my God…" she breathed, horrified.
"There she is!"
"She's the one!"
Ava whipped about sharply at the voices, and her eyes narrowed to slits when she saw a total of five Familiars stalking towards her, their ghostly blue eyes glinting maliciously. On instinct, her muscles clenched as they surrounded her, grinning with blackened teeth. She stood her ground, eyes shifting to each of them as they closed in, but she remained calm. Vampires were one thing, but Familiars were slow. They were practically human.
"Come here, sweetheart."
Just a little closer….
Her leg shot up in a lighting fast front kick to the first one's chest, before it swung backwards in a back kick, nailing the one behind her. Another ran at her with a swing of his fist, which she ducked underneath before throwing her arm up into his face, the blow knocking him backwards. She was grabbed from behind, but she twisted her body and used the Familiar's grip against him, as she skillfully switched their positions before bringing her leg up under his jaw. Her body twisted and turned, maneuvering around them effortlessly as they continued to try and subdue her, but no cigar. Her head snapped up when she heard a shout, which gave her just enough time to dodge a blow from a metal pole. Swiftly, she grabbed the pole and twisted her body, dislodging it from the Familiar's hands before swiping it under his legs, knocking him to the ground. Now armed, she wasted no time in finishing them off, her body moving with a graceful fluidity as she took out the remaining Familiars. One hit across the face, another to the back and chest, and a rather nasty blow to the ribs, they fell one by one, groaning from their bruised ribs and throbbing skulls.
She stood at a standstill, still in a guarded pose with the pole wielded in her grasp. When none of the Familars showed any signs of getting up, she allowed her muscles to relax, but only slightly. That was when the sound of clapping reached her ears. Eyes narrowing, she turned and froze when she was greeted with the sight of him. He was standing not three feet from her, hands clapping leisurely, almost as if to mock her. His eyes were hidden by the rim of his hat, but his smirk was clearly visible, smug and amused.
"Impressive."
"Why are you doing this?" she exclaimed.
His smirk didn't falter. "I don't know what you mean. I was unconscious."
Before she was able to respond, she was abruptly cut off by a hard blow to the back of her head. Body lurching, she fell to the dirt, pole falling from her now limp grasp. The Familiar who had struck her sneered down at her distastefully, now fashioning a black eye from where her fist had connected. Before he could striker her again, however, Black Hat held a hand up.
"Enough." He stared down at her for a moment, golden orbs studying her with intense scrutiny. "Take her to the mansion."
