Thanks a TON to dropletsoflight, sister-b, Vivienne S. and rednightmare for the reviews! You rock!
If you want to have fitting music to this chapter, listen to John Murphy - In the House, in a Heartbeat (28 Days Later soundtrack). In fact, the song suits the mood of the whole story.
It felt cold. Everything was dark and engulfed in a icy blanket. Lee could hardly even think of anything else besides that as a silent mourn passed his lips, trying to move something which belonged to his numb body. Even as he moved his head he stopped immediately once waves of pain swept through it, nearly knocking the consciousness out of him again. So he lay still on the ground waiting for the numbness to slowly pass out of his frigid, stiff limbs. He knew it wouldn't help if he didn't move. 'Just a second.' He was so tired. Even the cold raindrops falling down on his face, feeling like hundreds of too-big needles piercing his skin, didn't wash the fog away which coated his senses. Eyelids fluttered, revealing dim light reflected by the wet stones on the ground he laid on, dancing stars and more chilliness creeping into his bones through the water-soaked clothes sticking to his skin, making them useless in preventing the warmth of his body from escaping. Now Lee noticed how frosty he really felt. He needed to get up! Aching, he clasped and unclasped his stiff feeling fingers, trying to move his left arm which stubbornly ignored the brain's order; but then the flesh obeyed, touching the sore back of his head and instantly dragging his fingers away as he felt the wound, producing even more searing pain to shake his freezing body. One might think that as a detective he would have experience in being beaten, but as usual the normal, real life detective work wasn't the same as that shown in Hollywood productions. Even in the States.
Limbs protesting, Lee pulled himself together and lifted his body up slowly from the ground, another wave of cold pouring into every corner of his being accompanied by a threatening curtain of darkness fogging his vision. He slumped back to the ground, the rain drumming mercilessly down on him while he breathed heavily. The second attempt was more successful as he raised himself up steadily, taking his time and finally was able to capture his situation once he didn't get up to his feet, instead sitting with his back leaning against the pole of the bus station sign. First thing to come into the detective's mind was his cell and to call – well – the police; however there was no cell to be spotted by his searching eyes. 'Oh shit…' His hand reached inside his jacket for his wallet and badge. Gone. Raising his left hand to the level of his face, Lee cursed. Even his wedding ring was gone. Stolen. No cell, no money, no nothing in a foreign city in a foreign land in the middle of the night.
"This couldn't have gone worse." Mumbling to himself, Lee gradually tried to get on his feet, teeth chattering as his senses became more and more clear and with them the question of how long he had actually been unconscious, the only wild guess that it must have been quite some time. That question aside, Lee could ponder his main problem: getting back to the hotel. The map he was carrying in his pocket was now totally useless, and besides walking through the rain with a terribly aching head was not by any means possible. Without his cell and money he couldn't even call the police or Inspector Freeman. Should he try his luck at some random house of the local inhabitants? Well, better than sitting around in the rain doing nothing. His best bet was to rely on the kindness of another human. Cautiously he rose to his feet, letting a few seconds pass as the black curtain made an attempt to cover his senses once more, but managed to shove it aside faster this time as he started to stagger to the left, down the road. As if it would matter to consider which way to choose at all. Lee needed to warm up his stiff limbs, even if he knew that it was completely in vain as long as he wasn't able to get dry clothes. Coldness, moisture and the headache were his greatest concerns at the moment, and he wrapped his arms around himself with the sound of falling rain and chattering teeth his only company, as well as the anxiety he had felt before. Lee shoved it aside, blaming it on the bad day he'd had. Why should a bad start end good? He wasn't a Negative Nelly but his mood at the moment was below zero, and feeling way too exhausted to actually be angry he simply wanted to end this, regretting not having gone straight back to the hotel.
At the first house he rang, nobody opened up. Bad luck and no one was home, so Lee tried another further down the road. Again no reaction which slowly let the emotion of fear crawl back up Lee's throat, throttling his breath, making his mouth dry and shoving despair into his thoughts. Only two. There was no reason to give up yet even with heavy feet and an aching head. Things could be worse, like having a knife sticking in his chest, lying on the curb while bleeding to death. It was a result he'd often witnessed in his job in the next morning so he considered himself lucky despite the circumstances, though he still felt like someone was watching him from the dark, invisible eyes following his movements. Turning around, the detective stared into a nearby bush cradled by the wind and with water dropping from its leaves. Nothing. 'Stress. It's the stress.' Cold air filled his cold lungs, as he breathed like a marathon runner to calm himself and continue his search, feet heavy as lead as a light to the left caught his attention. A single building surrounded by nothing but acres and some trees but there was light. Where light was, there were people. To his right was another road leading to more houses, and strangely those houses appeared more eerie to him, desolate and his instincts told him to go to the building on his left. Lee listened to his instincts and the logical conclusion obviously spoke for itself, even if the lonely house was further away and what awaited surprised him nonetheless. He'd anticipated a house, plain and simple but not a goddamn – pardon the pun – house of God! The light he saw from the distance across the fields illuminated the black cross, which was mounted above the entrance from below, casting a long shadow across the old-looking stones of the wall giving a slight presence of God's majesty even if it was a small building for the Lord's worshippers. Ironically Lee had never been a believer, just a Christian on paper and more than leery of the entire sermon the church gave. Indeed he was a bit biased towards the case of Bible John – seeing religion as also being a very dangerous idea – and his opinion on the topic had been reinforced, yet now his hope relied on the very religion he considered dangerous in some way. Oh the bitter irony. Lee couldn't help but shake his head which naturally hurt and reminded him to stop standing dumbfounded in front of the church before he froze to death. It was winter. A somewhat depressing time of year which could also be responsible for his strange paranoia, that feeling of being watched from the shadows.
His shivering, pale hand knocked against the heavy dark brown wooden door, producing a sound which echoed through the night. Waiting for an answer he then knocked again, before grabbing the door handle and opening it. It was really open! A sweep of relief flooded through his body as he stepped into the building and away from the drumming rain, leaving puddles of water tracing his way. Lee only briefly gazed at the name plate outside, stating that this was the Chapel of St. Mary. A mumbled, "Whoa," passed his lips, and rubbing his hands together he spotted a person in the vivid light. It was a man, wearing a business suit. Okay that was kind of out of place, however finally another person in this empty town!
"Excuse me for barging in, sir. I was beaten down and robbed. Need to make a call to the police if it's possible." Emerging in front of the man, Lee got a better sight of him. Young – no more than thirty – with a somehow snobby looking expression on his clean shaven face and pretty much no reaction to Lee's peril. "Sorry if I'm bothering you but do you have a cell? Really I don't intend to rob you now, you can even make the call okay? I'm Detective Lee Smith. The police will confirm this." The man bluntly stared into his eyes and Lee's eyebrow lifted. Was something wrong with this guy?
"Sleep." A simple word, stressed in a strange manner and for a second the detective blinked in confusion. Yes, he was tired. Of course he was but he couldn't sleep yet. However his eyelids ignored his efforts to keep them open, starting to flutter and then staying shut. He felt how his body slumped to the ground and slumber carried all his confused thoughts away.
The chapel was small, not very well-known and perfect for the midnight mass to be held. Bishop Walker couldn't hold it in the same building every time, for the sake of the Masquerade. So he changed the location often, avoiding drawing attention from mortals. He stood in front of the altar, which was decorated with holy symbols of Longinus: the spear, the weapon which pierced through the Lord's flesh, lay beneath the suffering Christ as if he'd been pierced only moments ago, beside it pieces of the armour worn by Roman soldiers at the time along with a chalice of vitae. The Bishop himself was wearing a white alb and a stole with the insignia of the Lancea Sanctum: a cross with a spear and a skull embedded in a black sun, but his white garments weren't white anymore. Red crimson stains tainted the holy cloth, originating from the wheat they'd drained at the beginning of the mass and whose still-warm blood rested in the golden chalice, waiting to be served to the praying. Wheat was the Kindred term for humans when they referred to them as food.
"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth." He was a supporter of the Monachal Creed, the most widely followed one in the Lance, having more in common with the Catholic Church than the other, more 'modern' ones. The Kindred present repeated his words, creating a mumbling chant as the first of them stood up and walked towards the deacon. All his sheep were here and he was satisfied. No more than a dozen because his domain was small, with no important racks anywhere. It didn't satisfy him. It upset him. "I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, who was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary to redeem Man from Sin through his death and resurrection." The modest crowd again repeated his words, as the Deacon used a sharp ritual knife to slowly slice open the wrist of the Nosferatu who knelt in front of him and was newly welcomed into the Covenant, offering his arms without hesitation. The vitae poured out of the wound leisurely in thick, red drops and the Nosferatu put his bleeding arm to his mouth, licking the blood from it, as the door opened and his Paladin – his childe – gave him a concerned gaze. Not an anticipated interference. He knew it. Richard knew his childe well enough to decipher the mimic and he wouldn't interrupt his mass if it wasn't urgent. He had better not. A wink was given to the Priest who stood next to the Deacon to continue the mass for him. As the Bishop passed the faithful with shimmying vestments but not radiating haste, more a predatory tranquility, they kept their heads low. Bishop Walker was known for his strict enforcement of rules in terms of respect, nicknamed the Iron Bishop behind his back. As if he wouldn't know this.
"A human," said his childe curtly and in a low voice. Just a human? Why bother him with such nonsense? However the Bishop's face didn't show any reaction.
"Neutralize him." Later he would think of a suitable punishment for William. He expected more individual initiative from his own blood with regard to such unimportant matters. The procedure in such a case was clear.
"Forgive me your Excellency, but with all due respect: Please take a look. It is not some mortal I can dispatch." Richard's eyes narrowed, staring right into the hazel eyes of William. His childe was of a sturdy build, a formal Royal Marine perfectly suited for the task of ensuring his safety but by no means a brainless hulk. Richard didn't like it when his subordinates hadn't imagination and the ability to improvise. So he stepped out of the main hall, into the antechamber. "He said his name was Detective Lee Smith." That caught Richard's attention immediately. His childe was one of his most trusted assets as far as 'trust' could go in Kindred society and he fed William with tidbits of unimportant information so he wouldn't ponder about it. Curiosity was one of the most dangerous habits for neonates and so it was for Lee Smith, just another human to be observed but not killed. But not for Richard. Still his childe would receive punishment for not coming straight to the point. Looking down to the sleeping man at his feet, the Bishop slowly walked around him. Why was he here? This couldn't be a simple accident. Not here, not on the small outskirts of Glasgow. He needed to talk to the human. He didn't have any influence on mortal police, only on the Catholic Church up to one of the Bishops in Glasgow. Venturing further was too risky.
"Call my ghoul. He should bring him into his rectory and take care of him. I'll join after the mass." There was something behind this and Richard grimly suspected that it was a warning from the Archbishop MacKinnon. He knew already and it seemed that Bible John would become a major concern for the ambitions of Bishop Walker.
AN: I know, there is no chapel in East Fulton (as far as I scanned it from above with Google Earth), but I needed one there so I placed a chapel into 'my' East Fulton.
Rack - a Rack is a restricted feeding ground where it is easy to find prey. Kind of like a Kindred restaurant where only certain people have access to. The Prince - or in this case the Archbishop (the Lancea Sanctum set the Prince here and they always use other terms than secular ones) - grants access to it so they don't become overcrowded, endangering a masquerade violation. In a huge city like Glasgow Bishops also can grant access in their domain to such Racks.
