Hollow footsteps echoed through the small empty church which was only lit faintly by candles around the altar, reaching the bloodied and crucified Lord like the damned begging for salvation in his light. Father Walker knew there were many damned; some were even more damned than man could imagine. Sadly only a few of them wanted guidance and salvation.

Here's the bird that never flew.

However Father Walker was strong in his belief in the Lord and his promise, his endless mercy, to redeem even the most hideous fiend if he made penance for his sins and even in his small, old church on the outskirts of Glasgow he could feel the crushing weight of emptiness in the vast surreal space, watching the flames dancing whenever a draught hit them, forcing the fire out of balance. The rustling of his cassock was the only sound during the night here as he passed the glazed figures on the stained glass, showing different scenes from the Bible, but for him, there was only one essential moment holding on.

Here's the tree that never grew.

He passed the heavy wooden benches, continuing his way to the altar where the crucified Lord was shown in his pain to atone for the sins of humanity. For such a small church it was spiked with treasures which were eligible for a cathedral, however only a few trained eyes could spot them and no one would dare to take those away. Only if it were the will of the Lord Almighty.

Here's the bell that never rang.

Father Walker was not very tall, but average and in his late thirties. Blond, straight combed hair and steel blue eyes. Often people said he could belong to the Vikings if he were to put down his cassock and priestly white collar, and time and again Father Walker was more affronted than flattered to be compared to those heathens. Surely, he didn't exactly look like a Scotsman but he'd never left Glasgow his entire life. He was born here and he would stay here forever. Even in death.

Here's the fish that never swam.

Finally reaching the altar, his hand extended towards a golden chalice as the small door of the church was opened – allowing a strong breeze to invade the holy house and spurring the dance of the flames as Father Walker lifted his head, but didn't turn around as another pair of footsteps echoed through the building. They stopped at a specific distance.

"Bishop, I bring you the news that Bible John has resurged." It was not Father but Bishop. Like the flames in the wind, now his dance would begin like every night and continue on.

"Where?" The question was curt, however the whelp could be glad and kiss the spear for him to be addressed by him. He didn't even know the name of the Neonate, however he was sure that it was a Neonate of the Lancea Sanctum.

"Virginia, United States. They sent a policeman here to investigate the old cases." That however was definitely something the Bishop did not want. Mortal beings sniffing around in the affairs of Kindred was a danger to the Masquerade. Humans were only food, though if they were meant to rule above the humans God wouldn't have made it so hard.

"Bring me all the necessary information according to this...policeman and the occurrence in Virginia. Ask our Nosferatu for assistance." He took down the crucifix from his neck and dipped it into the red liquid inside the chalice.

"Yes, your Excellency." Without doubt the Archbishop would ask about this during the Synod. 'Wasn't this falling into your domain? You didn't take care of it, Bishop!' Father – as he was known among the mortals – Richard Walker restrained an angry snarl. As a Ventrue his rise through the ranks of the Covenant was regarded with a lot of suspicion, especially by the Archbishop who was a Mekhet. Weren't they all from the same Covenant? Did their clan or bloodline really matter in the eyes of God? Does it matter who spread The Testament of Longinus among the Kindred? Naturally the ambition of his clan burned in his veins.

"Now leave." Soon the Priests would arrive for the midnight mass they were to hold, to give all the lost lambs guidance in their Requiem. The bloodied crucifix was lifted to his mouth as he opened it to lick the thick, sweet vitae from it. His sharp fangs scratched over the surface of the golden object, producing a sound he so much enjoyed. Like a spear's sharp and pointy peak scratching over bones. Did it sound the same as Longinus' pierced through the holy flesh of the Lord's body, his lip tasting one drop of the holy blood that turned him into the first of their kind? Longinus was the first Vampire, so the Lancea Sanctum believed, so the Bishop Richard Walker believed with all the passion a dead man could have, for he was one of the damned among the damned. Walking death to show humans that there were forces of God on earth to show them how hell could taste. It was never too late to turn back to the Lord, receiving his all-engulfing mercy.

And the flames danced once more, as the door of the old church was shut once more – the church which was built on his behalf – beneath the suffering Lord. He was one of those flames. So close to salvation, yet so far away and with every night he skulked amongst the living it dragged him further away from God's eternal garden of Eden. But this was the will of God and God's will was absolute.

Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done.

The chalice was placed back on the altar, now empty again. Only Bishop Walker knew that he stored vitae in it for later use. He had placed many such secret vitae reliquaries in his church; however he needed to take care of this Bible John issue before the Synod was called or at least have enough to calm the Archbishop. To tell him that he didn't have to worry about anything and that it was preposterous to think the Masquerade would be violated. He was old enough to remember the 600-year-long reign of the Inquisition.

And so, for another night Bishop Richard Walker prepared himself for his own Danse Macabre.

AN: Short introduction, because I don't want to give away everything, right? So welcome to the new World of Darkness folks. I hope this story will show you that it is in no way inferior to the oWoD and Vampire the Masquerade. It's just different.