TITLE: Blind Love

CONTINUITY: Part 3

DISCLAIMER: Repetition gets old quick. See previous entries for admissions of use.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is this the space where I write something more like a teacher's note to excuse me for my errant thoughts? Okay, then. Dear Readers, Fans of Blood Ties, and more specifically enamored hearts of one Henry Fitzroy, vampire; Please excuse this author for the moment. Due to an uncontrollable urge to step out of the norm of utilizing established characters in new plot lines and emotional explorations, she has contracted a terrible new plot line and character set that won't leave her head until it has been completely exorcised on paper. If you have any questions or concerns, please direct them via the "submit" email at the end of this entry. Sincerely, Me.

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As if she were watching a movie, Laura was glued to the scenes playing inside her head. Only they weren't just images filling her sight, but emotions flooding her senses as well. At the inquisitor's elated admission of an accomplice in his capture of Henry Fitzroy, a wave of heartbreak reached out toward her mingled with acceptance. Of course someone close to him had to have betrayed him, how else would anyone have known what he was let alone capture him?

Fear, too, coursed through her, the kind that left her cold and trembling. She knew it wasn't her fear, at least most of it wasn't, but that did not stop her own body from reacting to the strength of it. It was his fear, fear of remaining in captivity through the coming dawn, fear of the possibility that his inability to keep himself from humanity had sealed his fate.

Fear soon turned to agony.

Though the monsignor seemed nothing but an ignorant fool on a quest to fulfill his role in the Church's unholy Inquisition, he held enough knowledge of Henry's weaknesses to reap a great deal of pain upon him. When dawn came and Henry unwillingly succumbed to the daylight lethargy that all vampires were cursed to endure, the priest had him taken from his cell and chained faced down against a wall, legs and arms spread eagle, vulnerable. And there he was left undisturbed until sunset.

The first beat of his heart sent a painfully small amount of blood circulating through his body. The second beat stirred his lungs into drinking that first breath of air. The taint of decay, sickness, blood, and wet stone was something that would haunt him until his last living moment. Without opening his eyes, Henry knew he was being watched. He could feel the tripping heartbeats of two as adrenaline coursed through their bodies. They were both excited and afraid. The tang of it lengthened his incisors. The third heart beat was calm, detached; Mendoza.

A low growl rumbled through his throat. Instinctively, his body jerked against the chains binding him. And that is when he felt the fourth heart beat, heard the whisper of a sweet and penitent voice murmuring prayers on his behalf.

Rage burned in him. How dare she pray for him! He did not need her interference with God on his behalf. God and he were on fine terms.

"Stop!" He shouted. "Cease your prayers, woman! You have no right!"

"We only work to save your soul, vampire," murmured Mendoza from behind him.

Henry's right hand clawed into the stone. "My soul is not your concern, priest."

"On the contrary. All souls are our concern."

Because Henry could not see those who moved behind him, neither could Laura, but she could hear them. On her right, there came a rhythmic scratching like tiny claws rustling across stone. It took a moment for recognition to come to her; someone was writing. Something snapped. Instincts set his already cold body into icy chills. Though he had not experienced it in a century or more, he was all to familiar with the sound.

Whip.

Hands strangely gentle raised the bottom of his shirt, tucking it high around the tops of his shoulders.

"This is not punishment, vampire." Spoke Mendoza in measured tones. "We offer you a chance at redemption if you would but confess to your abomination."

"Go to hell, priest."

"Pride, is a deadly sin. We will strip that from you, vampire, and perhaps then you will see the Light of Truth in God."

The first strike against the naked flesh of his back shocked breath and sound from his lungs. The second burning impact hand him clamping down tightly on a cry that begged to be released from his throat. The third hit tore it loose from his soul. By the seventh he was hoarse; his fingers and face bloodied as well from scraping against the stone.

On the ninth, Laura broke free of the nightmare.

Sobbing into her pillow, breath ragged, heart slamming against her ribs, she fought the echo of Henry's pain as it throbbed in her own back. This had not been the first time she had seen him, felt him, watched him, been him. It had been the worst, however, and the one that had her picking up her phone and calling the one person she had trusted with the truth of herself; Sister Sarah Beggets.

The phone's first ring had scarcely begun when the good Sister picked up. "Laura, you need me."

Choking between tears and laughter, Laura wiped at her eyes. "I need you," she confirmed.

"Hang tight, my dear. I'll be there in eighteen minutes." Without further ado, the conversation was ended and Laura was left holding tight to a phone playing the annoying hum of a dial tone.

A/N Is anyone as surprised as I am about where this is going? Just remember, as Mendoza so lovingly claimed. "I am just a vessel of the Lord's will." In this case, it is the will of the characters which guide me. Sorry 