Chapter 15
The following morning, the party traveled in mostly silence. Ororo was dead on her feet, having stayed awake the whole night watching over her friend. She remembered lying awake, staring intensely at Jean, wishing and hoping that maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could will the woman to wake up. Her worry made her sick and she got up several times to pace around the perimeter. Several times she kneeled and prayed. In the end, she had watched the black sky fade to purple and then a fiery gold as the sun began to rise. She wondered if Jean would ever see another sunrise.
After everyone had loaded their horses with their bedding, she requested Roberto to navigate the forest as Jean was incapacitated. The soldier humbly accepted the task and estimated they were only 2 days journey from their destination. Jean was placed on Hank's horse, seated in front of him so he could make sure she remained stable. Ororo insisted on bringing up the rear, feeling better if she could keep an eye on everything. She also felt ashamed and thought there was less chance to be watched. She felt like such a fool after last night. Ororo, queen of the elves, most graceless creature to walk the earth she thought smugly. Lost in thought, she hadn't realized it had begun to rain.
The sky darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance. At least Remy assumed it was thunder. With tense times like this, it was risky to assume anything. Lightning seared the sky and as if it had cut open the belly of the heavens and rain began to pour in a torrent. Within seconds, he was soaked to the skin and trodding through inches of mud. As miserable as the conditions were, he enjoyed it. The rain always made him think of his precious elf, Ororo. He was thankful that the primary advantage of being undead was he didn't have to worry about the repercussions of enjoying the cold rain.
A few more paces, and he came to a clearing in the forest. Mist from the rain billowed upwards revealing a temple seemingly lost in the wilderness. The Muir Cathedral. A three story gray stone structure built from rock cut from the nearby Nymon Mountain Chain. It had 4 turrets on each of its corners and one tower in the middle. Torches blazed along the cathedral's walls, flickering in the heavy downpour.
Long ago, it had served as the Madri Temple. The Madri were a cult formed by a mad sorcerer that replicated himself and carried out orders by the deviant Shadow King. In the Shadow Wars, the Muir Sisterhood, a sect of human women working in the name of the Great Faerie Tania, defeated the Madri and took up residence in the temple. That had been centuries ago but the Sisterhood still faced trouble washing the temple free of the spirits that lingered within the walls.
It was here that Remy confessed his sins and helped rectify his past by helping cleanse the temple. Interesting how no matter how holy and pure one can be, sometimes evil will only answer to evil.
He raised a hand to knock on the great oak doors but they opened before he made contact. A small, brunette woman peeked her head out. "Welcome, Remy. I had a feeling you would grace our door soon."
"Moira." He bowed and entered. The doors closed with a heavy thud behind him. Moira held a torch up and examined him.
"I see the years have been somewhat kind t' ye."
"Likewise. How are the girls?" He was inquiring about the rest of the sisterhood, shaking the water out of his hair as he did so.
She held a hand up, shielding her face from the flying droplets. "Honestly, Remy. No better than a mongrel!" She took his coat and began to lead him down the main hall. "Things here have been almost peaceful since you last helped out, Remy. I would never have guessed how much evil had occurred here. The poor souls wandering these halls… It has taken centuries but I think most of them have been able to pass on. We wouldn't have been able to do a great deal of it without you. As you can guess, we haven't been able to cleanse the 2nd level dungeons yet. Too risky."
Remy shivered unconsciously, remembering the cleansing of the 1st level dungeon. Spells had been cast on the walls of the Cathedral, locking in the spirits of the tortured dead. Demons had been lurking in the halls, feeding off of the despair of those trapped spirits. The Demons also made no discrimination between the spirits of the dead and the souls of the living.
Almost 15 years ago, it was by chance he had discovered the temple and was lodged for the night. Under the guise of being blind, he had tied a rag around his head to hide his red eyes, and gained the sisters trust through acts of deceit. Something he was no stranger to. After dinner, he overheard the sisters fearful meeting about it being near impossible to get down there to cleanse the dungeons before one was slaughtered. Naturally, no one wanted to go near it and many were bringing up talks of defecting considering the threat that thrived below their very feet.
Of course, his curiosity was getting the best of him. So many years after Ororo, he still felt little need to continue living with that damned hunger in his body. He could try and feed off of the power of the thing plaguing the Sisters or it could kill him. Why not take his chances against the beast? After confessing that night, he headed down to the dungeon, passing Moira as he did.
"Where are you headed, my son?" She asked, assuming the poor blind soul had gotten lost as he felt his way along the wall.
"I've overheard your fellow sisters, telling of a dungeon in this cathedral where no one can survive long enough to free the dead souls. Is this true?"
"Aye. But it is none of your concern." Her brow furrowed, wondering what a blind man would have to do with such matters.
He grinned his brilliant smile, sharp teeth flashing in the torch light. "My dear sister, you perform acts for those you do not know that do not concern you. Please, do not question my desire to aid you." He continued towards the stairway to the dungeon, fumbling along the wall in feigned limitation.
She chased after him, grabbing his hand, noting how icy it felt. "This is suicide, my son! In your condition, I cannot allow you…"
Remy wrenched his hand from her grip and lost control enough to incite panic in the woman. He wrapped a hand around her neck and pressed her to the wall, she squirmed desperately to break away. Her eyes widened in terror as he ripped the rag away from his face and revealed his charade, his red eyes began to glow and his teeth stretched downward. "I have not fed off of a human in 100 years and have no desire to kill you, sister." He snarled at her. "However, I do have a desire to kill whatever it is that is down there. You can either force my hand at feeding off of you, or I can solve your problem and mine by feeding off that thing. Choose."
She stopped struggling. "Put me down. I shall unlock the door for you."
"Wise woman." He gently lowered her and retracted his fangs, recomposing his humanity. He could smell her fear yet she remained composed. He was impressed.
Moira's emotions were mixed, terrified at the man before her, relieved he was willing to aid her Sisterhood, guilty he was on a death mission, and betrayed at his deception. She fumbled with the key of the lock she had just finished checking moments previously and it finally gave with a click. "My son… you may perish." She opened the door a crack for him, expecting him to turn away.
Instead, he stepped forward, swallowed by shadows behind the door, "I can only hope." He thought as the door shut behind him.
The present
Remy sat kneeling, hands clasped in front of him, confessing his sins. The woman sat behind a silk screen, only her shadow visible. Even though they knew who each other was, it was somehow easier to reveal himself in this manner. He enjoyed the feeling of normalcy it gave him. It calmed the uprising within him he had learned to tolerate. "Moira, I'm back where I was all those years ago. I need something… I cannot bear to kill anymore."
"Anymore…" she mused. "I recall you telling me you had not taken a human life in over a century. Has that changed?"
He sighed bitterly. "Several years after we first met, I contented myself to prey on criminals. Even now, that disgusts me. It only fills me with their hatred and self loathing. I have been feeding off forest creatures but… there is a tie I have, that is getting stronger and nothing is quenching it. I am being called and it is too painful. It needs subdued."
"Ah. Her?"
"Who?" He cocked his head to the side.
"The elf. You look surprised, my son. When you were last here, you may have come out victorious but you were ragged, barely alive and hallucinating. I cared for you until you regained full conscious. In your delirium, you told me lots of things, calling me 'Ororo.'"
Embarrassment and frustration washed over Remy. "I am sorry… it was nothing."
"I am not one to pass judgment and the things you confessed would make a Sister blush, but not a Blessed Mother." She winked. "Those words are in the past but I can read on you that the feelings are not. If your feelings have not waned these past decades, you should approach the source. You may have immortality, but you do not own time. And time does not stand still for your kind, Remy Lebeau."
Her words, though ambiguous, were so true they almost brought relief to him. He brushed a damp strand of hair behind his ears and finished his confessional with a prayer to Tania. Finishing, he rose with determination. "I suppose it is time."
"Aye." Solemnly, she lit a torch and began to lead him down a familiar corridor.
Neither of them said a word as they traveled through the 1st level dungeon. Remy noted the new spells and religious relics adorning the walls. Moira placed her torch on the wall just inside the dungeon and the room was immediately illuminated. The sisters had cleverly set up an array of mirrors where only one torch was needed to light the entire hallway. The place, once filled with the spirits of the dead, was now completely devoid of any life.
They reached the end of the chamber and she began to work the keys into the 6 padlocks on the door. He was almost worried at the sight of the multiple spells written on the door and chains and multiple padlocks, wondering what could be so atrocious to need that much to hold it back. Silently, she pulled open the door and a sour gust of air exited. He stepped into the corridor and the door was swiftly shut behind him.
With no torch available, he relied on his senses and one of his only blessings as a vampire. His red eyes enabled him to at least make out shapes and shadow forms in the dark, although not tremendously detailed, his other sense made up for what his eyes lacked. Although he could only hear air whistling through the stairwell, he could feel something lurking about, an evil that disgusted even he. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he was amazed at the sight of light orbs dancing around in the dungeon. They were various colors and incalculable in number. No wonder it had taken the Sisterhood centuries to bring light to this structure.
The rumors of the Madri atrocities were minor compared to what he was seeing here. He could smell blood in the air as thick as if he were bathing in it. He made no effort to suppress the demon in him, actually welcoming it. That glorious, painful ache of his fangs emerging and his ears extending into points as well, catching vibrations of movement in the air.
Proceeding on the side of caution, he remained still, listening, hunting with only his senses in the dark. He could hear deep steady breathing, approaching closer. At the other end of the corridor, he caught sight of his foe. And it was just as hungry as he was.