Redeeming Cain
By Kaj-Nrig
Notes/Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the sole property of Square Enix Co., Ltd. I claim none of its characters, scenarios, or affiliations as my own.
Chapter WARNING – Pedophilia (or at least statutory rape)
Chapter 4: Mysteries of the Vampire
If the vampire had been burned by the sunlight, there would've been something like an ashy corpse lying in the middle of the street. As he followed the trail of blood and crisped coal-skin, he saw no such corpse, which meant that the girl, against all odds, had somehow found shelter. He stopped by the fountain of the courtyard where he'd met Lucrecia earlier, contemplating where the blood trail led.
He was tired, though, much more so than he cared to admit; especially now, as he felt the morning rays on his skin, Vincent felt weariness tugging at the brim of his eyelids. Old habits died hard, after all.
"What's going on!?" came from one of the dust-ridden shops that circled the town square. Within minutes, the square was filled with frightened and panicked citizens, all converging on Vincent like wolves on an injured deer.
"I saw him! I saw him chasing something!"
"It's the Hunter!"
"He came to rob us!"
"He let the vampire in!"
Vincent hated crowds. Some of that hatred undoubtedly stemmed from prior experience with them, but in truth, it was that tendency of all crowds to overreact to one idiotic outburst that irritated him most of all. Belligerent fools, most of them scarcely out of bed, proceeded to accuse him of fictitious crimes, all of them dimwitted and preposterous. As he turned to acknowledge the increasingly hostile crowd, Vincent immediately heeded the town's sheriff rushing through the crowd.
"Move, people, move!" the constable ordered as he hustled to confront Vincent. Still dressed in a thin pair of trousers and nothing else, the heavily-muscled Sheriff Weston shivered in the chill of the morning despite the sunlight streaming in from the eastern horizon. After the two of them were alone in front of the crowd, he presented his large shotgun, pumping it once with his left hand. "What's going on, Sir hunter?" he asked in a casual tone, though the underlying threat of imminent danger was painfully obvious.
Vincent contemplated his response for a moment. Oh, they'll love this. "The vampire managed to get inside the walls. I chased-"
"He's lying! I saw it! I saw him open the gates!" a distressed man, just a bit smaller than the sheriff, yelled out from the midst of the crowd. Others immediately joined in – scattered demands of "Lynch him!" and "Find the vampire!" rose up like bubbles through a bog – and he resisted the urge to shoot some of them.
"Quiet! QUIET!" Sheriff Weston demanded. The incensed crowd crept forward but stayed their tongues, though there was the unmistakable grate of a knife being unsheathed. "You're barely out of bed, Jefferson! You don't know what you're talking about!"
"What!? I saw it with my own eyes! Are you saying you know what I saw better than I do!?" the man named Jefferson countered.
"Shut up, George!" a young woman next to Jefferson chided. "I'm sorry, John. My husband had a itty bitty lil' nightmare, that's all."
The tense mood was lightened slightly by the woman's statement; a collective smile ran through the crowd, and a few chuckles even sounded. John the Sheriff nodded in her direction. "Thanks, Becca. Al-"
"Anything for a looker like you, hunter."
John's smile widened at that and continued, "Alright, hunter. Continue."
Vincent's eyes swept across the crowd, and with his back to the sun, he knew they all noticed the glow of his eyes, but that fact only made them fall silent even more quickly. Pointing in the direction he had come from, he explained, "I chased the vampire from Lucrecia's house. She made her way into town-"
"The vampires a GIRL!?" someone shouted from the crowd, and Vincent nodded, continuing before another question could interrupt him.
"I chased her, but I lost her track here." He pointed out the trail of burnt skin and blood, the latter of which had dried into a red stain in the morning sun.
"You let the thing into town!?" George Jefferson again yelled, leveling a large butcher knife at him and causing those around him to jump back in shock. "Get him! He's in league with the vampire!"
"Shut UP, George!" Sheriff Weston yelled, bringing his own weapon up and causing the crowd to spread even more. He didn't point it at the Jefferson man, but George ground his teeth and eventually put the machete back into its sheath, bringing his hands up as a sign of peace. "Nobody's in league with the vampire, okay?" This he directed to everyone. "Look, it's daylight now, so wherever that vampire is, she's got to be-"
"What is all this racket?" cried a blubbery form as it stepped out of the front door of the most lavish house in the town. Apparently, the mayor had been able to sleep through the prior ruckus. As he approached the crowd, though, the hastily-dressed mayor's flushed face showed no signs of weariness. "Sheriff, what happened!? It's barely five o' clock!"
After the sheriff explained the situation, Mayor Foulke nodded. "Fine, fine, fine. Well, what time is it? Five? Six? It's daylight, that's all that matters. Sheriff, I'm sure you can handle this."
"Ah-" John the Sheriff stuttered slightly as the Mayor began making his way back to his house. "W-wait, Mayor! What are you doing?"
Mayor Foulke pointed back towards his front porch, where a scantily-clad girl stood. Vincent smelled the stench of the mayor's sweat and much more on her. And VAMPIRES are the evil ones, he thought. Heading back, the mayor answered, "I need to relieve some stress, John. I trust you can handle-"
"Wait."
Everyone seemed to pale at Vincent's command, and even the lusty flush of Mayor Foulke's face seemed to die down for a moment.
"What?" the mayor snapped. "I'm a busy man, hunter, so if you'll excuse me-"
"I need information about your vampire."
The mayor spat in his direction. "Fuck you, hunter. Don't try to associate me with this vampire."
"I'm not. I just need to know when the last attack was."
Incensed, the mayor returned. "Come with me, hunter," he hissed, and started walking again. Vincent followed. "You test my authority like that again and I swear to God, I'll-" he snapped, but the rest of his statement went (wisely) unspoken as it was interrupted by a beastly snarl.
"Alright, then!" Sheriff Weston shouted as Vincent made his way to the mayor's residence. "A vampire was stupid enough to come into our village during broad daylight, folks! Let's show it our Asgard hospitality!"
----____----
"What is it?" the mayor asked offhandedly before grasping the young girl's chin and tilting it up to receive his tongue.
The living room of the mayor's house was naturally very large, nearly four stories tall and with a glass ceiling to allow sunshine to stream down. Furnishing it was a rather simple combination of sofas and loveseats surrounding a coffee table, where the mayor was currently fondling the young child. From where he rested on a corner leading to the entrance, Vincent saw, to his left and right, a hallway that stretched to other parts of the house. Along the opposite wall of the living room sat a well-decorated fireplace, unused, as well as two sliding doors that led to an equally lavish backyard, where the mayor's wife and daughter were currently resting in a peaceful hammock. The other two walls contained stairs that led upstairs, where there were undoubtedly more rooms and sleeping quarters.
Vincent kept quiet in the shadowed hallway a bit longer, observing his surroundings. "When was the last attack?" he finally asked.
Mayor Foulke broke the lip lock, his chin dripping with saliva, and replied, "That's a hell of a question, hunter. I thought you were smart."
"Before Melantha."
Unhooking the small bra on his young lover, Mayor Foulke answered, "Why do you care? That happened almost sixty years ago. It's not the same vampire, if that's what you're asking." Tossing the underwear aside, his thick, engorged tongue went to work, sliding across her skin like a slug, even leaving a trail of clear, thick slime in its wake.
"How do you know?" he asked. Outside, the mayor's wife peered in and, noticing that her husband was conducting a meeting, returned to cuddling her young child to sleep.
Mayor Foulke waved off the question, continuing his administrations until he was finished suckling on the girl's small breast. "When I was a boy, hunter, I had the privilege of seeing that bitch of a vampire staked to death.
"I was about seven at the time, and I remember it had bitten some girl. Short blonde hair, and in her twenties or so. Elena, I think her name was. Anyway, we found it, staked it, and that was that. Nobody's been bitten since then... Well, except for Melantha." The story over, Mayor Foulke returned to his business, dropping to his knees in front of her and gently removing her panties, and Vincent wrinkled his nose at the stench of arousal coming from the naked man.
"Tell me how Melantha was turned."
"You ask a lot of questions, hunter. Don't you see I'm busy?"
"Very well. I'll leave the vampire and her minions to you." Pushing off the wall, Vincent's boots clacked loudly as he made his way to the door.
The words broke through the mayor's desire and arousal, causing the old man to bolt to his feet... or to his knees, at the very least. "Wait, hunter, wait!" he cried lackadaisically, spitting love juices on the carpet floor in the process. "I apologize, I apologize," he lied. "What else do you want to know?"
"Tell me how Melantha was turned," he repeated, ignoring the yell of surprise from the young girl as Mayor Foulke threw her onto all fours on the coffee table and positioned his nude body behind hers.
After a quick thrust forward, the fat old man grunted with pleasure and answered, "It started... ah, yes... a few weeks ago. Melantha and Lucrecia, those two are beautiful, hunter. I'm sure you've noticed. It's no surprise that the vampire went for Melantha. I wouldn't mind having a quick taste of her myself... not that Mimi here isn't wonderful, of course." To emphasize his devotion to his young lover, Mayor Foulke thrust violently forward, eliciting a sharp moan from his partner.
"Talk about Melantha."
"Yes, right, right, hunter. Always so... oooh... so blunt. Melantha was courting a young man, and invited him over to dinner one night. Hoji, I think his name was. Or was it Hoja...? Hoju...? Ho-"
Vincent rapped on the wall as gently as he could. As it was, a sizeable indentation was formed. "Continue, please."
"Mm, that's more like it, hunter. Your respect is appreciated. Uhhh... Lucrecia was at a neighbor's house that night, which is why she wasn't attacked. Once the darkness came, that vampire girl of yours came a-calling. Speaking of coming..." His old skin flapping noisily, the mayor huffed and puffed as he quickened his pace, looking like he would have a heart attack at any moment. Vincent turned away as two voices, one an old, spent moan, the other a high-pitched grunt, mixed together in some disgusting and base mockery of an aria.
After the impromptu concert was over, Vincent once again regarded Mayor Foulke, who was panting vigorously. As he pulled away from the equally spent girl, he smiled lasciviously at Vincent, gesturing toward the girl's gently quaking rear. "Want a taste? She's still got one clean hole." After Vincent was silent, the mayor continued, flopping onto a couch to rest. "Your vampire killed the man and bit Melantha. After that... well, you were there. Father Hebner took Melantha's dead body back to the church, thinking God could both keep her safe and help him kill the vampire." Taking in an exhausted breath, Mayor Foulke's eyes wandered back to the young Mimi, who was splayed on the table, expended into a half-sleep. "Mm... see that beautiful tiny rear? It's still there if you want it, hunter."
Without a response, Vincent turned and left the premises.
"Damn shame..." lamented Mayor Foulke. "Oh well." Having caught his breath, the obese mayor returned to grasp his young mistress's hips and pulled her to him, growing bolder and more flushed with each groan and hiss that escaped her lips.
----____----
By the time he made it back outside, the courtyard had filled with every citizen from the town and immediate area, all surrounding the fountain of the stoically-countenanced Son Jesus. The crowd of over a hundred listened intently to the orders of the Sheriff, who was flanked on both sides by his squad of twenty deputy sheriffs.
"-slumbering in the city!" A loud clamor followed the confirmation the entire crowd had already known for the past hour, but John the Sheriff immediately raised his hands to shush the crowd. "People, people! Let's stay calm about this! As I'm sure you've all noticed, it's shining nice and bright out! Now, we don't know how it got in, but we DO know that it didn't get out, which means one thing!"
"LET'S STAKE THE BITCH!" shouted someone from the crowd, an overzealous butcher.
"That's right, Grove!" John shouted. "But first we have to find it! So here's what we're going to do! You all know which deputy sheriff is in charge of your part of town, right!?" A few mutters of "Uh..." and "No" were drowned out by an overwhelmingly enthusiastic and frenzied "Yeah!". Sheriff Weston laughed lightly before turning back to serious matters. "Well, you better find out quick, because they're gonna be leading each and every one of you on this vampire hunt!"
"What if the vampire gets up!?" shouted another citizen. "We shouldn't risk so many people unnecessarily!"
"It's daylight, you idiot!" another voice challenged. "No vampire can move during the day! If it wakes up, just open the damn windows! Gyah Hah Hah!"
"Alright, alright! Here's what we're going to do, folks! Men, meet with your section's sheriffs and they'll lead you through a sweep of your section! Cover EVERY square inch of it! I want that damn thing found, and I want it staked! Women, take your children and head out to the hills! Make sure you're in an open, sunlit area! And as always, stay away from the forest or the Gongaga Valley. Don't worry! It won't take more than a couple hours! Alright!? Great, let's go!"
The rowdy crowd dispersed upon the command, scattering like a swarm of bees from the nest. Many snickered as they passed by Vincent. He and the Sheriff locked eyes and met each other by the same fountain where the Sheriff had addressed the crowd.
"Sorry, hunter," John said, justifiably smug, "but it looks like we won't be needing your help after all. What a stupid one, eh? Trapping itself in a packed city during the daytime... Man, we couldn't have gotten any luckier." Vincent nodded slowly as if trying to agree, but there was something intangibly... wrong with the scenario. No vampire EVER retreated to a human town, even if it was in mortal danger. And no vampire was absent-minded enough to visit its victim so close to dawn.
But no vampire had ever woken a wraith in the middle of the day, either, much less kept it from decomposing. This was certainly an unusual one he was facing.
Vincent scanned the local buildings, trying to get a sense of where the vampire girl could have gone. She would have looked for someplace with as little light as possible. All the buildings here, though, were pinpricked with windows that caught every last bit of sunlight. Where could-
"I'll aid your search," he said to the sheriff before turning to the church. "Who's in charge of the church?"
John looked at him, visible baffled. "The church? You're kidding me, right? Why would it hide inside the church?" When he saw the deadpan serious look in Vincent's eyes, the confused sheriff answered, "Uh... well, nobody's in charge of it. I mean... come on, Sir hunter. A vampire would never go into the house of the Lord."
"Better safe than sorry."
"Hm... I suppose you've got a point, Sir hunter. Alright, fine. I'll come-"
The sheriff was abruptly cut off by Vincent's silencing finger. "No need," Vincent replied. "It's probably as you say. I'll be fine."
----____----
It was clear upon entering the dark church that the vampire had indeed fled here to escape the sun. Ashy footprints indicated a pained gait as she had stumbled through the hallowed chamber. Vincent followed the footprints carefully, keeping his senses open to any sign of danger. As he passed one of the back pews, he noticed a hand-shaped stain on its back, burnt flesh still clinging stubbornly to it. Idiot girl, he muttered to no one in particular and followed the footprints through the pitch blackness of the church, which ended abruptly at a set of stairs leading downstairs.
The darkness of the place threatened to thwart his advance, though. Vincent felt his eyes become heavy, and his footing slowly turned slightly sluggish. He was VERY tired now, and he definitely needed some sort of rest. The mere presence of the sun outside made it that much worse, and he struggled to keep from dropping next to a cool wall and closing his eyes.
He shakily unholstered his firearm and held it at the ready, rummaging through another sphere-filled pocket while stealthily heading down into the basement, which was somehow darker than even the lightless church above. His acute eyes could barely pierce through the blackness, drooping as they were, but what he could see reminded him of some sort of mausoleum – dark, damp, cold, smelling of earth, and wholly suited to safeguarding hellspawn.
Unlike a mausoleum, though, its stone and cement walls only seemed to be meant for storage. A modest wine rack rested against one wall, and next to it were several barrels. Strewn about were various instruments of worship, but Vincent could see that they hadn't been used in a long time; most likely Father Hebner did not particularly enjoy being down in this... tomb-like realm.
There was a single opening in the wall across from him, opening into another room. This one could hardly be called a room at all – it had been left unfinished long ago, and the exposed dirt had since taken back some of its territory, spilling through the eroding stones along the back "wall" and to his feet. There, lying huddled in the far "corner" of the room, was the vampire girl.
Instantly, he trained his gun on her unmoving form and slowly stepped forward. As he did, her silvery gray eyes, glowing faintly as all vampire eyes did in the darkness, blinked in his direction.
"...you..." Her voice was weak, but it still contained an almost petulant anger and haughtiness. Vincent closed the distance between the two of them and knelt, pulling an orb from his pocket. Crushing the glass in his metallic claw, he sprinkled the encased dust widely on the earth beside them and scraped his claws together, igniting a flame that instantly lit up the room and caused the vampire to snap her eyes away in surprise.
"What's your name?" Vincent asked. When the young girl didn't answer, he jabbed his thumb into the partially healed wound on her shoulder. Her pain would not stop him from receiving his answers.
"Aaah!" She hissed sharply in agony as he pulled his hand away and wiped the black ichor on the dirt.
"What's your name?" he repeated.
"Fuck you," she answered. "If you're gonna kill me, then hurry up and do it." She turned her eyes upward, looking at the stone ceiling above her. "Damn sun..." she muttered. "...can hardly talk, much less move."
"What's your name?" he asked a third time. Her stormy gray eyes met his, and he saw the flicker of a question in her gaze upon again seeing his crimson radiance, but she wisely chose not to voice it.
"...Yuffie," she admitted after a prolonged silence. Vincent stepped back, but a sudden wave of weariness caused him to stumble in his step, his knees buckling slightly and his aim falling wildly. momma Shaking his head to keep his senses, he fought to keep himself awake. "...you don't look too good yourself."
The comment surprised Vincent, successfully snapping him to full awareness. He hadn't been expecting any sort of comment come back from her, and he certainly hadn't expected her to show empathy... of any kind. Keeping a suspicious eye on her now, he continued toward the first room, his gun still trained on her. Finally, as he neared the central wall, he replied, "Like you said, it's the sun."
Yuffie snickered as well as she could, but the action still seemed to take a lot of effort in the midst of daytime. "Look, I'd rather not be staked through the heart by some town hero, buddy. At least make it quick with that gun of yours."
He shook his head momma as he reached the stairs. "No. I have questions for you."
"What makes you think I'll answer 'em?"
Vincent didn't have an answer to that, but he didn't truly care come back to give one. Leaving her question hanging in the dank crypt, he made his way back to the surface.
come
----____----
"So?" Sheriff Weston looked expectantly at him as he made his way back to the fountain. A young deputy sheriff – one of the men who'd helped carry Father Hebner to the clinic the previous day – came and gave a status report to John, and he gave a curt nod of understanding before turning his attention back to Vincent. "Did you- Actually, I've been meaning to ask you: How did that vampire get in here, anyhow?"
Vincent didn't respond immediately, instead trying to keep the burning sun from closing his eyelids. "She ran over the wall," he answered after the brief pause.
John whistled in grudging admiration. "Really now? That must be some vampire. She didn't get burnt?"
Vincent shook his head. "She is 'some vampire.' The holy fire never touched her."
"Really... wow. Running into a city, jumping over a fortified wall, and evading an entire city's search efforts. It's no wonder we haven't found her yet. We've already scoured through half the city, and there's still no sign of her. She must be a ninja or something." Then, as if suddenly remembering where Vincent had been, he asked, "You didn't get her, did you?"
Again, Vincent shook his head. "No."
A small wind suddenly drifted by and lifted his burgundy cloak ever so slightly, and he saw the sheriff's eyes widen the tiniest fraction of an inch at the sight of his unclasped gun. Damn it, he muttered to himself as he quickly pulled the garment down and clicked the holster shut. Another wind lifted his cloak up again, but Sheriff Weston blinked confusedly as he observed the firearm firmly secured When they met eyes, Vincent made sure to keep the truth locked away behind his eyes.
Even still, the lawman's instinct was strong in the sheriff; his eyes became suspicious and questioning, and Vincent noticed his right hand rising casually to his hips, right above his revolver. Smart man.
"...didn't see anything, huh?"
"Nothing."
John's mood lightened infinitely at Vincent's curt response, and he smiled, reaching out to slap the gunslinger on the back. "Good, then!" he exclaimed with an obviously false cheer. "I told you it wouldn't be stupid enough to hide in a church! Hahahah!"
He accepted the attempted deception, then turned back to look at the church. "Something worries me about that church, though," he stated calmly. Indifferently.
"Oh yeah? What's that?" The light mood was still there, but he could also hear the thinly-disguised distrust coating every syllable. Vincent was very impressed with the constable. He trusted his intuition, and he was wise enough to trust yet question a stranger at the same time.
Taking a glance toward the local cemetery, which was located directly next to the western wall of the church, he explained, "Melantha was turned into a wraith by the vampire and brought back to life in the middle of the day. Only an extremely powerful vampire would be capable of doing such a thing. Moreover, when I shot her, she should have immediately turned to dust, but she didn't. I need to check that church and make sure it doesn't have any surprises in store." After the unusually lengthy soliloquy, Vincent then headed back into the church, ignoring the wary and untrusting eyes of Sheriff Weston.
----____----
Vincent could tell that Yuffie hadn't expected him to return. Or, at the very least, not by himself. She had most likely expected a group of angry citizens and a wooden stake. The look of immense relief on her face almost made him feel sorry for her.
As he entered the earthen chamber, though, the weariness of the daytime suddenly came over him again, and this time his knees gave out on him, slamming his back against the wall and shoving him down into an impromptu sitting position. "Ugh..." he grunted evenly, trying as much as he could to still appear in control of his own body.
Not surprisingly, Yuffie looked somewhat self-assuredly amused at his weakness. "Oh, poor baby..." she crooned weakly. "Didn't get enough sleep last night?" The sound of his gun being cocked shut her up immediately, but he saw the mocking laugh in her eyes as they stared long at each other.
"...who are you?" Vincent asked at last. His arm wavered in the dimly-lit air, but he squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and opened them again, his conscience at least temporarily alert again.
"I'm a dirty, evil, spooky lil' vampire, of course. C'mon, I'm sure you knew that."
"You're unlike any other vampire I've met."
"Mm, I like where this is going..." she almost purred. "If you want, I can show you what my mouth can do besides suck your blood." Then, slowly, she brought a pale, slender finger to her mouth and sucked on it, even managing a flirtatious smile in the process.
Vincent hmph-ed and reached to a back pocket, pulling out a vial of colorless liquid. "I command you in the name of the Lord, vampire."
Yuffie stared at the bottle of water and ceased her self-ministrations, though she seemed more tired from physical exertion than frightened of the holy water. If anything, she looked... She looks... curious. Like she didn't understand the significance of the object in his hand.
She was dressed in unabashedly revealing clothing, she visited her victims near dawn, she sought refuge in a human town, and she didn't recognize holy water.
Vincent searched her iridescent gray eyes for a sign, any sign, anything that would give him some answers. She can't be the one that attacked Melantha. Again, there was that alarming suggestion, that impossibility that was only gaining more strength as he continued to scrutinize her.
"How long ago were you turned?" he asked, uncorking the bottle.
"How long ago were YOU?" He was taken aback by the response, again caught off-guard by the decidedly un-aristocratic action. Vampires were supposed to be the highest class of society, not impersonating some commoner.
Shaking his head clear of the thoughts, Vincent quickly flicked a few droplets in her direction. And to his surprise, the resultant cry and sound of sizzling flesh came as naturally as it did every other vampire. At least THAT part of her was normal vampire behavior.
"Answer my question," he commanded above her whining dins.
"Hell no- AAAH-" Her voice was cut off as her muscles seized up under the pain of another barrage of holy water. "O-O... Okay..." she finally whimpered, curled into a ball and shuddering as the burns cooked parts of her bare legs.
"How were you turned? Tell me everything."
"O-okay... but f-f-first- NO!" she screamed as he tilted the bottle back again, one hand flailing in a stopping gesture in his direction. "No! Please! Oh, please, don't!" The sudden burst of emotion made him stay his hand, once again shocked at the unusual behavior she was exhibiting. There was definitely something decidedly YOUNG about this vampire. If only he could pinpoint the reason...
"What?" he demanded rudely.
Yuffie sniffed and whimpered miserably, her back turned from the still-burning flames next to her so as to shield her face from his gaze. "L-look... I-I know... I know you're out to kill me... I can understand that... but... but... if you're gonna question me first, then... the least I deserve i-is... s-s-s-some answers of my own... right?" He didn't respond, once again shocked at her unusual demeanor. It was so unlike any normal vampire action that he found his hand once again wavering, this time not so much from weariness as from doubt. No, not doubt. Doubt is how I got into this mess. "P-please. I'm hardly one to ask, but please..."
There was nothing to doubt. He knew she was doing this just to get her way with him. He'd done it himself so many times before... but there was... something. As much as he tried not to, he found himself being swayed by her plea.
"...what is your question?"
"Y... your name... that's all." Enraged, he rose to his feet, his body now devoid of exhaustion, and he pulled the bottle back, ready to fling it. Play with my mind, will she? He knew what she would do once she obtained his name. She would try to coerce him, try to get him to drop his guard, and then she would make him sin again, and he would be right back where he started, and then- "NO! NO PLEASE I SWEAR! PLEASE I'M NOT TRYING ANYTHING PLEASE!"
The vampire girl shrunk back even further, curling even more into her fetal position as she shied away from the bottle in his hand, shivering, terrified of him.
"...
"...
"...Vincent," he answered as he once again took a seat on the cold floor. Across from him, Yuffie continued to cringe. "Vincent," he repeated, louder this time, and Yuffie's frightened shudders finally began to cease. Vincent eyed her warily, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the sight of her terrified eyes slowly opening.
"W-w-what?" Her limbs began to stretch out again, returning to a more comfortable position, and he raised his gun, this time propping his arm on his raised knee.
"My name is Vincent." Without waiting for her to offer a reaction, he ordered, "Now talk. Why are you here?"
Yuffie didn't answer for a long time, and he waited patiently against his better judgement for her to collect herself. "I..." she began, clearly still deathly afraid of him. The burns on her legs soon began to disappear; the hole in her shoulder, which she had reopened during her writing, also began to close, leaving only a black stain of blood. She stared at her bare legs, looking very disturbingly vulnerable and meek. "I found... this deserted castle a few months ago, and... well, I was hungry, so... y'know. Vampires gotta feed."
Her words were obvious lies, and his left hand once again reached for the holy water, but he saw her cringe away ever so slightly. Afraid... Genuinely afraid. But not of God... of me. Trying to stare into her eyes to see any hint of deception, he cautiously put the vial back into his pocket.
"How long ago were you turned?"
"...I don't remember."
"Guess."
"I-I dunno... a few decades?"
He kept quiet, unsure of how to read her answer. Above him, the sun passed its zenith, and he felt the drowsiness envelope him, his eyelids fluttering in the cold darkness of the storage room. Something clattered to the floor in front of him, and when he shook himself awake, he saw his gun lying on its side.
"...you okay?" Again, that irritatingly genuine and unhidden quality to her voice... Her entire demeanor belied her years of vampirism. "Heh. Lis'sen to me... Askin' the guy... who's gonna kill me... if he's 'kay..." Pushing up the wall, Vincent forced himself to his feet and trod around the small room, rubbing his right hand against his eyes. Then, as if realizing his mistake, he quickly bent over and picked up his firearm.
"Who turned you? And why?"
"Hm?" Her half-lidded eyes did incredible things to her face, and as Vincent bent down above her, he took in her unearthly beauty with heavily-restrained temptation. He knew what that beauty was for, and he knew how easily it could work if he didn't keep his guard up. "Wh...d yuh... say?" He repeated his question after slapping her awake, though he did his best to keep his blows from hurting her too much. In the back of his mind, as he questioned the unconscious restraint he'd shown, he wondered briefly if she'd already ensnared him.
...but he immediately banished that thought. Whoever the girl was, he knew that she was incapable of doing such a thing. All that he'd seen thus far spoke volumes about the sheer immaturity of this childish vampire... but there was always the chance that she was simply playing with him. When he looked into her groggy eyes, though, he could see no such deeply-engraved deception.
"Ow... some... some woman... a long time ago."
"Why?" He shook Yuffie awake again, and she tried to swipe at her eyes, but only managed to raise her arms partway before groaning with the effort.
"L-look... I don't wanna talk about it, okay?" she asked, taking in a deep breath and settling herself into an elevated position. "Why does it matter, anyway?"
"Just answer the question."
"Ugh... okay. I ran away from home, ran into the forest to find a vampire, and it bit me. Happy?"
"Why were you looking for a vampire?"
Yuffie shook her head, exasperated and exhausted. "Geez, you ask a lot of questions. Power, immortality, and eternal youth. All the stuff you dream about. Can I sleep now?"
"No one lives forever."
"Yeah? Your point?"
"We are all transient guests. The time of the vampires has come to an end."
"...whatever, Mr. Hunter. You ever stop to think that maybe some of us have reasons for becoming vampires?"
"You allowed yourself to be tempted. That's it. There is no justification for that."
"Heh. Typical. Y'know what? Think whatever you want. I'm not gonna justify myself to you."
"You lost faith in the Lord."
Yuffie suddenly snarled and bared her fangs at Vincent, and again, he saw the raw, undisguised fury in her eyes.
"HE lost faith in ME!" she hissed before a blast of sleepiness rippled through her and her eyelids fluttered shut.
"What makes you say that?" he asked.
Before the question reached her ears, Yuffie was already beginning to doze off, but before she did, he saw some flicker of emotion dim her glowing eyes. "Why did He abandon you?" he repeated, pressing the gun barrel directly between her breasts.
"...y'know," she mumbled sleepily, "I used to know a Vincent...
"He was always really mean to me. Him and all his friends...
"They always hurt me..."
He went to wake her again, but paused when he glanced at the wound to her shoulder. Her words continued to echo in his ears, and tried as he might, he couldn't keep them from swirling around his mind.
"...hey..." He looked back down as Yuffie whispered to him, nearly asleep. "...at least make it quick... 'kay?"
Common sense as well as divine justice told him to oblige her – she would only cause more terror if she was let loose – yet debate as he did, the sight of her, sleeping peacefully like some normal girl... Vincent took a deep breath.
There is something about her... She is not... She is not like any other vampire. "What do I do?" he muttered to himself.
A chilly breeze suddenly drifted by, a breeze that was impossible down here, pulling up his cloak and revealing his holster. Vincent stood in the room for a while longer, contemplating his options.
Then he holstered his gun and made his way back to the church proper.
----____----
By the time he exited the church, the sun was on its way to the horizon. He feigned ignorance when Sheriff Weston reported that the vampire hadn't been found anywhere in the town. Asked for his advice, he told the sheriff that the entire town should seal their doors two hours before sunset and place crosses on their front doors. Additionally, he explained, the residents should sleep with an additional crucifix at the foot of their bed.
All of which was sound advice, but Vincent nevertheless tried to avoid any questions from the sheriff.
After everything in town had been taken care of, he returned to the doctor's clinic to check on the Father.
Father Hebner was lying in a lonesome paper-white bed, and the entire room had a feeling of unnatural sterility to it. As Vincent entered, the Father looked up from his Bible with vacant, almost forlorn eyes. "Ah, so it's you," he remarked, his voice completely devoid of enthusiasm and filled with only a self-loathing. The feeling was one he could understand well; undoubtedly, the man of faith was still uncertain about his own faith in his Father.
"How are you, Father?" he asked, hoping to elicit some response.
"...Mr. Vincent." The bandaged patient was wracked with a seizing cough, hacking in a guttural, phlegm-filled sound. "...Do you know you are the first to visit me this day?" With a self-deprecating laugh, he continued, "Frailty, thy name is Religion."
Pulling a chair up to the bed, Vincent sat down and quickly grabbed the Father's left hand to examine it. The stigma of the crucifix was still scarred into his palm, but the tips of the Father's fingers were also powder-white and dry. He looked at the Father sharply.
"Hm," responded Father Hebner to Vincent's unasked question. "It seems that reading the Good Book is a bit more difficult today."
Letting go of the priest's hand, Vincent sat down and waited a moment until he closed his book. A small, scarcely audible singeing sound issued from inside the book and the smell of seared flesh clogged his nose.
"Would you like to recite the Scripture with me, Mr. Vincent?" Father Hebner asked. Vincent nodded absent-mindedly, and the Father started the prayer.
"The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul;
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
For His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I shall fear no evil;
For Thou art with me;
Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
Thou anointest my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the day of my life.
For I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever."
Once they finished, the Father asked him, "So? What happened, Mr. Vincent?" His face was still horribly discolored, but it was clear that the old man was suffering from wounds more internal than external. The bandages were all but nonexistent now, revealing a ripple of thin, hairless purple skin, but the strip of cotton was still wrapped neatly around his neck.
"The vampire attacked and was chased into the city, and it... hasn't yet been found." He tried to hide his stumble, but, as he should've known, Father Hebner immediately caught the brief pause of indecision.
Rising with pained effort to a more conversational position, Father Hebner coughed again and asked, "What do you wish to tell me, son?"
He met the priest's eyes with careful indifference, but, seeing only openness and understanding there, he forewarned, "I've told no one else."
"You found the vampire, didn't you."
Vincent nodded. "Underneath the church. I..."
"Did not kill it." Vincent nodded. The Father then gazed at him with those vacuous and despairing eyes. For a long while, they were silent, but finally, Father Hebner said, "You wish to seek my counsel."
"...yes."
"My son, look at me...
...But alas, I have taken your words to heart, and so I shall do my best to return the favor. Ask away."
He paused, completely unsure of what exactly it was he wanted to know. nearly made him recall himself, but He knew it had to do with Yuffie, the wholly strange and intriguing mystery of innocence and evil. He wondered how she was the pale, horrified, ghastly girl so naïve and ignorant and powerful at the same time. It was unfathomable that a vampire as young as her could've gained so much power after only a few decades of hunting humans. Every time he saw her in his mind's eye, he didn't see a sharp, deceitful, cunning, and devious aristocrat that languished in the manipulation of others, but... a childishly honest, wide-eyed, and completely tactless girl-child flailing her arms to reach-reach-reach who shied away from him with a deep fear of pain, of... of a previous life that was even worse than that of a blood-seeker. breathed through her neck She had the look... not of a vampire.
No, she looked... she looked more human than most humans. no mommy no
"Vincent?" Father Hebner asked when no question came from him for more than a minute. He ignored the question. You've been alive for so long, Valentine, he mocked himself, and you're confused about a little girl.
Finally, after an eternity spent thinking to himself, he started, "She..." The girl perplexed him in too many ways. Tongue-tied, and for the first time in a very long time. "…is immature. Childish."
Father Hebner turned his head, surprised. No doubt he hadn't been expecting such a statement, either. "Childish? What do you mean?"
Vincent composed his thoughts, wondering why the issue was so perturbing to him. please don't His eyes looked everywhere in the room, as if the answer he sought was somewhere in the sterile utensils of the treatment room.
"The mayor said there have been no vampire attacks for half a century. Is this true?"
The Father nodded, though a small, cynically sarcastic smile grazed his lips. "I've been alive fifty-one years, my son, and in all my life, Asgard has not once been attacked. God was kind to us."
Vincent accepted the statement easily; he trusted the Father's word far more than he did the mayor's. "Fifty years is too short for her to have done what she did, then..."
"Hm?"
"Raising a victim in the middle of the day is unheard of. Only the Ancients were ever that powerful, and they ruled for tens of thousands of years." He ignored the knowing gaze of the Father. So he knows. It's no matter. He could trust the Father more than he could anyone else in this town. "From what you say, and from the way she acted, she can't possibly be the vampire. Are you sure there've been no attacks in the past fifty years?"
"None, Vincent. I have no reason to lie to you."
Vincent conceded the point, but a heavy unease still filled him. "Then it must be her." There was too much doubt inside him to accept what he'd just said. There had to be something else going on...
"What is it, my son? I can tell that this is not your true question."
"...She told me that God lost faith in her." That wasn't it, or at least not ALL of it, but... it was currently the best he could think of.
His words seemed to confuse Father Hebner almost as much as it had him. "Did she now?" he asked thoughtfully. "Perhaps she was trying to... to trick you?" There was an almost imperceptible hitch in the Father's voice, but Vincent caught it plainly. The old man was putting up a good front, but he knew that the curse was working on him. He also knew what the undead Melantha had most likely said to him, to coax and coerce, to tempt and deceive him.
He shook his head, not sure why he was so convinced of the contrary. "No... She was... genuine. I never saw trickery in her eyes."
"Yet you also said that she could awaken a wraith in the middle of the day, an impossible feat. Do not be fooled by her, Vincent."
The advice was sound, and it was so very true, and yet... momma no
"She said her name was Yuffie." He looked up at the pastor to ask more, only to find an expression of awestruck fear. "What?" he demanded immediately.
"You... you said... Yuffie?" the Father beseeched.
Vincent nodded. "What is it, Father?"
"Oh, Yuffie... my poor, poor Yuffie..." Father Hebner suddenly sobbed, bringing his hands to his eyes. Another bout of coughs racked him, though, and he fell back into his bed, gasping in pain as the sensitive flesh on his cheeks and hands throbbed where they had contacted each other. Grating his teeth, Father Hebner settled for simply letting the tears stream down the sides of his face, moaning in a mixture of agony and desolation.
"What is it?" Vincent demanded again, this time a bit more roughly.
"Oh..." The pastor looked at him with wet eyes, and upon seeing him, began to weep some more. "Yuffie... Yuffie was... she was a girl... from this town... just twenty years ago... oh, Yuffie... why...?"
Father Hebner began to rant and mutter senselessly to himself, and Vincent reached around his collar to brandish the cross. The sight of it caused the priest to suddenly seize up and go stiff; Vincent immediately returned it to hiding, whereupon he just as suddenly went lax. "How do you know Yuffie, Father?" he asked.
"Y-y-y-you just..." Father Hebner stuttered, a deep tremor taking over his body as his dilated pupils darted all over Vincent crimson-cloaked form. "N-no... All my life, Vincent... A-all of it... devoted to H-H-Him... to Pater Noster and His Son... and now He has judged me unworthy for His kingdom..." He regarded Vincent strongly, with a touch – more than a touch, actually – of desperation. "P-P-Perhaps... Vincent, I have failed, haven't I? I have failed Him two times too many... Yuffie was my first fault, and Melantha my second... I am unworthy-"
The slap hurt much more because the Father was still so grievously injured from the burns, but Vincent had heard enough of his self-centered lamentations. "Father Hebner, tell me about Yuffie. Now."
There was a long moment in which not a single word escaped Father Hebner's lips. Despair wracked him so fully that he could scarcely think, much less talk. His mind felt numb, like the walls of his soul, his body, his being were all being disintegrated and he was becoming distorted, unwhole.
The moment finally passed and Father Hebner began to recount the history. "She was... a girl I knew sixteen years ago. Her parents died when she was young, and the other children always picked on her so... Oh, Yuffie..."
"Father," Vincent commanded as gently as he could when he saw Father Hebner losing focus again.
"She... She was always a lonely girl, but always so exuberant and outgoing around me... She loved the teachings of God, Vincent... She loved Him so much... She was a rascal, but whenever I read a verse, she sat and listened intently. And then one day, she simply... left." As he recalled the young girl, his own desolation was forgotten, and tears of mourning seeped like an endless river from his eyes. "The things the other kids did to her, Vincent... they were horrible, horrible children. She would come to the church with her clothes torn all to shreds, and I would give her a new set, only to have that pair ruined within the week. She tried so hard to hide the bruises and bloodstains, but they were always so numerous. And yet... no one was punished for hurting her. For chasing her out of town. No one cared for her, Vincent. Oh, my poor Yuffie..."
Father Hebner again broke into a fitful sob, but Vincent didn't think to quell him once again. It made more and more sense now that he knew more about her. There was still something missing, though, something he knew he had seen in her eyes when she muttered his name. "He was always really mean to me." Something about that line struck a chord in him. Something was simply wrong. The words contrasted sharply against her actions, against her demeanor, against her entire personality. It spoke of something deep. Of something... traumatic.
Suddenly, he felt a very distinct and disturbing sensation crawl through his skin – empathy.
Empathy for a vampire.
This is not the way things should be, he muttered glumly, sarcastically. He hoped to God that what he was thinking was the right thing.
"Father," he asked. By this time, the priest had composed himself enough to concentrate on listening and responding to Vincent's questions. Even still, it was hard for Vincent to voice his concern, for it was one that he hadn't even considered just a few minutes prior. "I cannot spare her. You know that." The words were unconvincing even to his ears, but it was impossible to acknowledge the alternative.
Then he saw the same thought finally begin to take root in Father Hebner's head, the thought that yes, it WAS possible, that he could do it for her, he could- "Y-y-yes you can, Vincent! You know how to do it! I know you know! Oh, Vincent, I know it!"
It wasn't impossible to acknowledge the alternative. That wasn't the problem. The problem was...
"No, Father. There is no way to sa-"
"IF GOD CAN SAVE YOU, THEN HE CAN SAVE HER!"
He had said it. There it was, laid out in the open. If Vincent could be saved, then so could Yuffie. If one vampire could be saved, then so could another.
Now that there was nothing left to be said, Vincent simply looked at Father Hebner, and there was a certain sense of morbid understanding that settled over the priest. He saw, swirling in Vincent's flickering, not quite human eyes, the same sort of fear that ran through the depths of his own spirit. It was a fear that all men of God shared, that all men of God were taught to respect. And as Vincent stood up to leave, the same thought ran through both of their minds.
What if God didn't save him?
----____----
As the sun continued to droop over to the western horizon, Vincent made his way back to Lucrecia's residence, the townsfolk made their ways back to the town, the sheriffs and other men of Asgard erected more makeshift crosses, a friar under Father Hebner's tutelage blessed each doorway with holy water, Lucrecia finished cleaning the mess from the night before, and, in the cellar of the holy church, Yuffie dozed lightly, unaware that she had been spared by the hunter.
The geography of the Outer Plate was that of a flecked paintbrush. Various chunks of earth, both large and small, radiated outward from the massive central continent. The Inner Plate was situated, not surprisingly, in the midst of this supercontinent, acting as the one relatively safe and stable place in the world. The soil was distinctly nutrition-deprived and cracked dry, very much unlike the wild and untamed fields of the Outer Plate, but there was hardly a trace of anything that went bump in the night, much less the most feared enemies of humanity – vampires.
The Outer Plate stretched from partway inside the continent to the islands furthest away. Large and small islands alike jutted out from ocean waters like heavy reliefs against nature, all connected by a web of swirling rivers and outlets. The largest islands often acted as continents themselves, providing a settlement for thousands upon thousands of subsistence farmers.
The earth on which the town of Asgard stood was one such island, and it was fortunate in that it had a narrow passage of land that connected it to the mainland every few months when the waters receded, giving it precious access to easy trade and supplies.
At this time of the month, though, there was no hope of reaching the mainland, and as the night sky began to awaken, the settlers of the small fortress town huddled in their homes, clutching tiny crucifixes and whispering muffled citations of the Lord's Prayer, hoping to God that the invisible death that lurked their streets wouldn't smell them out and tempt them into the darkness.
And Vincent Valentine, confused and waning in faith, checked the blessings he had placed on the front door. When he saw that it had somehow been tampered with, that the vampire had somehow bypassed it, he began to feel a very deep and very real worry take root in the base of his spine. Had he been wrong in sparing the young vampire?
Chapter 4: Mysteries of the Vampire END
A/N: Hm... I'm surprised at how quickly this chapter was written. I hated it so much for... a long time, and then it practically wrote itself in a few weeks. Anyway, any and all reviews, critiques, flames, etc., are welcome. I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it.
Notes:
Hojo – Reduced to a plot device. How 'bout that?
"We are all transient guests." – Vincent's line comes from the titular character of Vampire Hunter D, who states about vampires, "Transient guests are we."
"Frailty, thy name is Religion." – From the ever-great Hamlet (Act I, Scene ii, line 146) – "Frailty, thy name is Woman."
"The Lord is my shepherd..." – Psalm 23.
Pater Noster – Latin, meaning "Our Father."