Cheers to all who reviewed the last chapter! Here is some more! Hope you enjoy it! We can't promise to keep this pace up though!
A solitary man weaved his way in and out of the greyness and tombstones of the Hollyoaks' cemetery. He lingered every now and then at familiar names, his fingers tracing the cold gold lettering on the stones. He was dressed in a long leather coat that billowed out behind him and dragged along the early morning dew kissed grass. The silence of the cemetery calmed him in a way in which the Hollyoaks village could not. He was safe from himself out here, alone with the silence of the night. Out here he could escape from the sound of human hearts beating as loud as thunder and the delicious smell of fear mixed with arousal. Brendan Brady could escape all the temptations that came with this curse, but he couldn't escape himself.
Brendan reached the wooden doors of the church, ignoring the long shadows cast by the pre-dawn light. The building almost looked grotesque in the darkness, a warped parody of all that it should represent. He pushed the wooden door and was pleased when it swung open without any resistance. Brendan felt every part of his body alive with apprehension, almost expecting something to jump out at him from behind one of the darkened pews. With a pang he realised that he was a lot more dangerous than anything that lingered here. A church was supposed to offer sanctuary, a safe haven in a time of strife. Today Brendan Brady was seeking an end to the torment, an escape from the monster that lingered inside of him.
Brendan entered the church slowly, his boots on stone causing the sound of footsteps to echo loudly all around him. He didn't stop until he reached the figure of the Virgin Mary. He wasn't sure how long her gazed upon her porcelain face, but he was almost sure that she was shedding tears at the sight of him. Brendan turned away, his face scrunched with agony. He pulled a golden chain from his pocket, his fingers blistering as they brushed the small cross at the end. Brendan turned towards the stain glass window depicting Christ on the cross. Even the eyes in the window seemed to be staring at him with a laser like intensity.
"Forgive me father." Brendan said softly into the darkness. "For I have sinned."
Brendan ignored his burning and blistering fingers, clutching onto the small cross even harder. He could see the smoke rising from his hand and smell burning flesh. But none of it meant anything to him, how could he feel pain when he was already dead? His heart had stopped beating a long time ago and yet his body still continued to survive. He was an anomaly, a creature of the devil. Brendan couldn't ignore any of these facts any more, he was a product of sin and for a while he had revelled in it; but not any more. He was toxic and now sweet, innocent Vinnie had paid the price for that.
Brendan glanced at the stain glass windows which seemed to be glowing red with the early morning light. It reminded him of the hell fire that he and Cheryl used to learn about on a Sunday. It was apt, considering that hell was exactly where he was going. He had partook in too many sins of the flesh lately, he had drank blood from the mentally unwilling, slept with any man that caught his eye and he had become a murderer. The monster inside of him needed to be put to bed before any of this happened again. He could already feel the yearnings inside of him bubbling to the surface, he needed blood, he needed sex, and he needed to kill an innocent.
He raised the golden cross to his mouth, his lips instantly blistering at the contact. "I have committed sins of the flesh, I have committed adultery, I have lain with another man and I have taken another man's life. I wish to repent and offer myself to you in return." Brendan spread out his arms and closed his eyes. Soon the sunlight would pierce through the windows and there would be nothing left of him but ash. "I am yours, if you will take me."
"Are you okay sir?" asked a soft voice from behind him.
Brendan was startled for the first time in years; nobody usually was able to sneak up behind him, perhaps it was his own agony and the pain in his fingers that had kept his attention elsewhere. He slipped the gold chain quickly into his pocket and his fingers that had branded and burnt by it. The urge to end his un-dead life was fading now, being taking over by the urge to feed. Brendan turned and noticed a priest standing behind him, a vein in his neck was pulsing blood through his body. He could feel his fangs dripping with saliva, ready to spring out at a moment's notice.
"I'm Father Des." said the man calmly. He did not seem to be afraid of the man who had broken into his church. More fool him.
Brendan glanced at the man, he couldn't help notice both that he had kind eyes or the fact that it would take exactly ten seconds to drain the life blood from his old neck. "Leave." said Brendan firmly. He did not want to add a man of the cloth to his list of victims, there already was a special place in hell reserved for him.
Father Des frowned and shook his head. "You're distressed; I wouldn't be able to sleep if I left a member of God's flock alone like this."
Brendan's face slipped into its true grotesque form. He stepped into the light, waiting for the man to scream or run. Father Des did neither of these things, he didn't even flinch.
"I am not one of God's sheep," said Brendan softly. "I am the wolf that hunts them." He could feel the burns on his lips cure as quickly as they had been made. He kept his hand on the cross in his pocket, to remind himself what he was, to put the power of certainty behind his words.
Father Des swallowed hard. "And does the wolf not feel pain? Wasn't the wolf created by God too?"
"God has abandoned me, only the Devil has use for anyone like me." Brendan turned back and looked at the stain glass image of Christ, a solitary blood red tear slipping down his cheek.
"All living creatures have good in them." said Father Des softly. "Only God is allowed to judge."
Brendan flew forward and within a millisecond had Father Des pinned to a wall by his neck. "If you'd only stayed away you would have lived." his sharp teeth brushed against the hardened flesh around his neck.
Father Des closed his eyes, "I am not afraid," his voice unwavering. "I've had a good life and my wife is waiting for me on the other side."
Brendan released his grip on the priest neck, breathing heavily - even though it was something he did more from habit now. He forced himself to walk away from the man, not looking back. It was time. He didn't need to feed if he was about to die. Brendan stepped into the churchyard just as the first rays of sun peaked out from the horizon. The sun was beautiful, heavenly, a symbol of everything good and pure and alive, a rare treat that Brendan had not seen for many years. The flesh on his face burned where the light touched him, he stretched out his arms ready.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." said Brendan calmly.
The priest was behind him again, he could hear his heart beat and each breath the older man drew. "You've been given life; you must have a purpose in this world. You have shown that there is still good left inside of you by fighting your urges. I know the vampire is called to kill and is desperate for blood, but you fought it my child. Do not let that goodness go to waste."
The priest knew nothing. Brendan never fought, he could never turn away from pulsating human blood, could never ignore a willing man in his bed. He was a monster and a killer.
The sun was so beautiful, offering an end, offering safety to those people around him, offering an end to an eternity of loneliness.
And the movement coming out from it did the same. There was a figure in the distance that glowed like the sun. It gave off rays of innocence and beauty and goodness. It radiated love and pain and vulnerability. And it shouldn't have to see Brendan like this, he had to hide.
Brendan turned to say something to Des, but found the older man had disappeared. A part of him wondered whether he was ever there in the first place. The sunlight was beginning to burn his body and his skin was already starting to flake away. He shot across the churchyard, stopping outside an old mausoleum that was overgrown with ivy and hadn't been used in years. The chain crumpled to dust easily in his hands. He stepped inside and closed the door, feeling the relief that only darkness could bring.
"Hello?" said a youthful, curious voice from outside. Brendan imagined it was innocent. Maybe he'd seen something of Brendan as he had crossed the church yard faster than a bullet, but that didn't matter. He would dismiss it soon. As he lay down on top of the stone grave Brendan knew it wasn't his time to go yet, his un-dead life had been saved and there must have been a reason behind it.
"Hello?" said Ste. He was probably just freaked out from finding the head in the bin, but he could have sworn he'd seen somebody then. Heard them at least. He shook his head. He must be losing it.
He hadn't bothered sleeping last night. After the police had spent hours questioning them all about things they couldn't answer, all he'd been able to think about was how close these monsters had come to his family. Not literal monsters, obviously. Whatever Amy said, there was no such thing as monsters. This was just some local nutter. Though God knows how they'd drained Will of all his blood, but then again what did Ste know about stuff like that?
The sun was glittering on the horizon now, casting Ste's long shadow before, glittering through trees and on the dew in the grass. He had no idea why he'd ended up here. He'd spent all night sat up on the landing outside his children's rooms, and then, as the first strands of light had turned the sky outside from black to grey started worrying about his bloody interview.
He wished Amy wouldn't have hope. It hurt him every time he had to tell her he'd failed again, and there was no way he could do anything but fail this time.
He looked around. There didn't seem to be anywhere to sit in this grave yard, which Ste found stupid. Where were the grieving meant to grieve? He was only here to clear his head and he couldn't even do that. Maybe he could go into the church?
No, that did not sound like a good idea. He'd not been in a church since some ill-timed attempts by Pauline to get them all to be religious. It hadn't rubbed off and Ste had come out feeling resentful of the whole thing. There was somewhere to lean. One of those big old things, what were they called? They'd had them in Buffy all the time.
It didn't matter; it was only somewhere to lean while he thought about how he could make this interview lead somewhere. Maybe if he asked if they knew about other places that might have jobs? Lower market, more likely to employ him.
He leant back on the cool solid stone of the thingy. It was beautiful out here at this time, with the sun slowly climbing and the cool air on his face. There was a strange scent of burning, too, but it was probably someone in a nearby house smoking. He drank in the air and crossed his legs.
His foot bumped something on the ground. It jangled slightly, and he peered down. It was a short length of heavy metal chain. Clearly iron or something and much too big to be jewellery. He wondered what it could be for. An old way of locking the church? Or the thingy behind him.
He glanced at the door with curiosity. It could have been held closed by a chain once. The chain must have rusted away and no one had thought to check it. It probably wasn't a problem. It was probably locked another way.
He tried the door almost entirely out of curiosity, and when it swung open to reveal the cavernous darkness within, he still couldn't help his curiosity. What could be inside a place like this? Why did people need a walk-in grave?
He stepped inside.
There was almost no light, just shadows on shadows. He could just make out the stone walls, stone ceiling, a distinct lack of windows and some coffins. A man seemed to be asleep on one of them. He did a double take and stopped himself from screaming in shock.
His first thought was how incredibly attractive the man was. Pale as the stone around him, with hair as dark as night on his head and upper lip which should have looked tacky and out of date, but somehow only added to the classical charm. He wore a long coat of a timeless quality and had a body that made Ste want to drool.
His second thought was that this was clearly a mental person sleeping on a grave.
"Er, what are you doing?" he asked, stupidly.
The eyes flew open, but no panic was discernable on the handsome face. The sat up unhurriedly and gracefully, and the stupid part of Ste's brain that only cared about how he would quite like to lick this man's biceps, couldn't help but be impressed by the strength such it would take to move like that in such an unruffled manner.
"Sleeping," said the man, in a rich voice that seemed to resonate in Ste's chest as much as his own. His eyes were a startling blue, so blue that Ste felt that they could swallow him alive. There was almost something supernatural about them.
"Er, you can't sleep on a grave!" said the more rational part of Ste's brain.
"And why not?" said the man, patting the tomb, "this guy's beyond caring about stuff like that."
"Yeah, but…" said Ste, "it's creepy, innit?"
The man's lip twitched, "Is it?"
"Yeah," said Ste, "isn't it?"
The man snorted a quiet laugh, and lay back down, "Well, you don't have to watch if it's 'creepy'" he said, closing his eyes again.
"Er, are you alright though?" said Ste. Of course people didn't sleep on graves unless they had nowhere else to go.
The eyes opened, and a strange expression appeared on the handsome face. "I haven't been alright in a long time," the man said.
"So, can I … help?" said Ste.
The face turned to look at him, eyes sad. "No, you can't help," said the man. Then he turned away and closed his eyes once more. Ste frowned, but there didn't seem to be anything else he could say after that. The man had spoken with certainty.
"Well, I hope, you know, it gets better," he said, feeling how stupid the words were even as he said them.
The man didn't respond, so Ste felt even more foolish, and made his way back out of the door.
"Thank ye," a voice said quietly, almost too quietly for him to hear. He turned back to the man.
"What for?" he asked.
The man smiled enigmatically, but didn't reply and eventually Ste gave up waiting. This guy might be attractive, but there was only so much crazy Ste could cope with before it put him off. Not that this guy had seemed crazy. But he had to be, didn't he? For sleeping on a grave?
Something made him close the door of the thingy (a mauso something?) behind him. He should put it out of his mind. He had more important things to worry about. What time was his interview again?