This one is a bit graphic, ya'll so that's your warning. I promise that Caius will be in the next chapter!
Dean woke to the early rays of sunlight filtering in through her small window high up on the wall. She didn't have many things in her room. It was just large enough for a small student desk with two drawers, a simple wooden chair, a three drawer dresser, and her twin sized bed adorned with white and light grey dressings. She had slight memories of her bedroom before all this. It'd still been modest, but decked out in pink and yellow with toys and books and she'd had her fill of pretty princess dress up items.
She could vaguely remember the sheer pink tent above her bed that helped her sleep at night. Even as an adult now, Dean was plagued by the same nightmares. Skin glistening like diamonds and red eyes, a mass of furry flesh and sharp teeth made for ripping. She'd pray away the dreams now, wishing to understand them, or for them to leave her be. They came less now, but still, when they happened they set the mood for the day and she would be more unpleasant to be around than the nuns already believed her to be.
With a sigh, Dean runs a hand through her messy black locks, fingers snagging on knots and causing her to wince. Her brush was in her desk, but she dreaded fighting the tangles to smooth out her hair. It always took so long that she was tempted to cut it and never have to deal with it again. Her habit usually covered most of her hair anyway, and when she took her vows and adorned a coif and veil, nobody but God would know that it was so short.
She eventually traded her pajamas for her work uniform, a white and grey dress identical to the one she'd worn yesterday, and simple grey slippers. She scowled at her boots which were still soggy from the lake and scooped them up after fixing her spare habit around the crown of her head so that only her bangs could stick out. Something Mary Constance would surely scold her for. She smirked, taking joy in getting on the elder woman's nerves. She'd caught the woman looking up to the sky and begging for patience and mercy more times in the past thirteen years than any other nun in the convent.
She took the boots to the laundry, keeping her head bowed and curtseying with respect as the elders passed by on their way to breakfast. She had to fight the urge to hum as she tossed the boots into the dryer and then hurrying towards the dining room where all of the others would be gathering now for the morning meal. As usual, she was the last to arrive, but never late for a meal. Another thing the other nuns thought was amusing about her, she couldn't keep time to save her life, unless it had to do with food.
"It is now half past six. Our vow of silence has concluded. Let us pray," led Mary Constance. "Sister Dejanna...please."
"Of course, Sister," Dean said politely and bowed her head in respect. The twelve others around the table copied her movements as routine. "Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."
"Amen," chorused the group while signing the cross over their bowls of plain oatmeal.
After breakfast, Mary Constance divvied out the chores for the day. Dean was shoo'ed outside to pull weeds in the garden when her friend Gabriel knelt beside her. He was a handsome black man with light skin, deep brown eyes that were nearly as black as the night, and close cut curly black hair. He wore a white button up made from soft cotton, the type for manual labor, not church service. His pants were the same light grey as her dress, with matching black shoes. He smiled a dazzling smile at her as he got down on his knees and began ripping weeds out alongside her.
"Fancy seeing you here," he says in greeting. Dean smiles back at him, never pausing in her work.
"Sister Mary Constance is mad at me," she explains, grimacing at the dirt under her nails.
"Isn't she usually?" He teases and gently knocks his shoulder into hers.
"I suppose. I'm going to miss it, I think." Dean says with a frown, remembering her conversation yesterday with the leader of the convent. "They are sending me to help some man named Father Karras," she explains at Gabriel's odd look.
His eyes light up in recognition, his entire body freezing for just a moment before he covers his unease with a gentle smile and resumes pulling at the offending greenery. "I've heard of him. He seems like a nice enough guy. Must be important if they sent him here all the way from the Vatican for help."
"The Vatican?" Dean gasps, this time it's her hands that stall. She sits back and looks at him with wide eyes. "You must be joking?"
"Not at all," Gabriel says. "The guy is a famous exorcist and very compassionate, so I am told."
Her unease sours into something more sinister. She bites her lip, looking away from her friend and forcing herself to continue working the garden. Would Mother Superior send her away on a dangerous mission? She'd thought the Pope had long since stopped the practice of exorcisms unless it was proven without a doubt to be a demonic possession at play and not simply mental illness. The last one that she knew of had happened long before she was born, and she only knew about it from the forbidden gossiping between the other nuns to be.
"Just don't forget about me in that brave new world outside the gates, eh?" Gabriel jokes, breaking the tension easily.
"How could I forget someone as obnoxious as you?" She teases back, copying his move from earlier and knocking her shoulder with his. They continued to joke around until the small garden was successfully weed free, and their hands were caked in dirt which Dean carelessly wiped down her white apron. Gabriel laughed and shook his head at her, choosing to wash his hands off in a fountain and dry them with a spare bit of cloth he carried around for yard work.
Next, she went off to music class to help Sister Mary Clarence teach the choir children how to sing from their diaphragm. She'd recently taken over for Mary Agnus, who was about 100 years old and couldn't hear you if you were singing Soprano C in her ear. After only a week the choir had improved greatly enough that we were no longer speeding through hymns as fast as we could on Sundays.
"I LOVE JESUS!" Ally cried out excitedly as she jumps in the air doing a weird jumping jack with her legs bent behind her. Dean laughed at the five year old and quickly agreed with her, though it was more for the child's benefit than her own. Her playfulness quickly came to an end, though, when the door opened and Mary Clarence told her that Father Karras had arrived and was waiting for her in Mother Superiors office.
"Where are you going?" Ally asked sadly, looking down at her little black shoes with her bottom lip sticking out.
"Um, a priest is taking me away for a special job. I'll be back before you know it," Dean promised.
"Are you going to be like Fraulein Maria and fall in love with a handsome captain?" The girl gushed, her big eyes wide and starry. Dean grinned at her, amused beyond belief. They'd watched The Sound of Music just the week before, and Ally had adored Maria, wanting to be her. She loved how free spirited the girl was, and how fun she was even after growing up in a convent just like the two of them.
"No, sweetheart, I don't think so."
"Awh," says the girl, wrapping her arms around Dean's neck and hugging her tightly. Dean held her, kissing her forehead before releasing her and heading in the direction of her fate. She stopped by her room to dress in her civilian travel clothes of light jeans and a striped t-shirt before meeting the Priest.
Father Karras looked a lot younger than he must have been. 'Good Genetics,' he claimed. He had dark brown hair, and a dusting of it over his cheekbones and under his nose, over his chin. He had blue eyes that seemed permanently hidden under his furrowed brow, giving him the impression that he was perpetually confused. He wore the usual black suit and white collar, and he smiled at her a lot. He was friendly, and compassionate, just as Gabriel had said, apologizing several times for removing her from her home.
The two had sat on a plane for about two and a half hours, followed by another four hours in a small car with their luggage tied on top of the roof. They were in some far off back woods forest community of Romania. Father Karras was looking out the window, holding his bible and a necklace of beads in his hands with white knuckles.
"Is something the matter, Father?" Dean asked politely. His hands were holding the book so tightly that she was afraid they would cramp before too long. Karras' head whipped in her direction, his mouth dropping open a little before he collected himself.
"What do you know of demons, Ms. Bouras?"
"Just what we read in scripture, sir," she answers, wincing at the use of her last name. "If it's not against some kind of rule, you can call me Dean."
"Very well...Dean. Strange name for a girl," he says with a kind smile. He wasn't trying to insult her, and hoped she would take it in stride. She did, smiling at him. "And I must insist you call me Cassiel."
"Like the Angel of Tears," she recognized. Cassiel nodded, his lips twitching with the effort not to grimace.
"Exactly like that. Where we are going is very dangerous. There are multiple types of demons, Dean, and the kind we are to deal with is particularly dangerous. Not just to whomever falls pray to it, but those who think to love it. They are as beautiful Lucifer. I believe while the angels and humans were made in His image, these demons were created in Lucifers. You mustn't be fooled, however. They will sooner drain your life essence than be kind to you."
Dean swallowed thickly, not sure what to make of her situation. Before, she'd thought Mother Superior would never send her on a mission she would not come back from. Now, however, she felt that she'd been too quick to judge. Fear trickled like cold water down her back, and she thought for a brief moment of praying in earnest.
"What kind of demon is this?" she asked, finally.
"The worst kind," he nearly mumbles, looking out the door bitterly. "The selfish kind."
They didn't speak any more as they pulled up the long driveway of the seemingly abandoned convent. It was dark and imposing, and the taxi driver whispered something in Romani and quickly drove away, promising to be back in three hours and not a moment sooner.
Dean could see why the man was so afraid. The sun didn't seem to shine here. What had once been a sunny day had turned into ominous cloud cover, staining the light stone a dark grey. The weeds were over grown, beginning to climb over the sides of the steps that led to the heavy wooden front doors. All of the windows were tinted black so that she couldn't see inside, and there was an unnatural stillness in the air that had the hairs on her arms and neck standing straight.
"Father..," she said warily. He held up his hand, signaling for her to be quiet, before knocking three times with the heavy brass knocker. The sound was loud, and seemed to echo in the immediate area. Something felt wrong. She suddenly wished she'd brought her own protection, and eyed the rosary still wrapped around her companions hand. After standing there stupidly for a few moments, Cassiel pushed the door open himself.
It's hinges squealed, letting out it's displeasure at them letting themselves in. It was dark inside, too. Not a light flickered, not a footstep heard. Not a soul within eye or ear shot. That bad feeling that something was going to happen settled unsteadily in her stomach as she walked further into the room. It wasn't cold, like she'd expected it to be.
There were no animal howls; no nails on chalkboard sounds, nothing she'd expected from movies and books alike. It was just quiet...eerily quiet. "Where is everybody?" Dean asked, her voice shaking. Cassiel did not answer her, but sent her a pitying look as they ventured further into the receiving hall.
All of the furniture was covered in a thin layer of dust. Nobody had been here to clean in weeks, it looked like. The smell of rotting food assaulted their noses as they inspected a bowl of fruit left to liquidize in a plastic bowl set upon a table. Fruit flies were having a party on the food, not even minding when Dean instinctually batted them away with her hand. Further into the darkness they crept.
They passed by the sanctuary, and the dining room that had a large throne like chair for the Abbess to sit, over looking her flock like a shepherd looks after their sheep. The passed by classrooms, and the bedrooms until they heard someone scream. A young woman's scream by the sound of it. Cassiel and Dean took off down the hall, practically flying down the twisted staircase to the floor below ground. A thick trail of blood appeared on the stairs, causing Dean to gasp in horror and slam her back against the wall in fright.
"Hold yourself together and do not be caught unawares," Cassiel said before turning his back on her and continuing down to the basement. Dean covered her mouth with her hand, staring at Cassiel's back until he turned out of her sight. then, she quickly gathered her nerves and sprinted after him, careful not to slip on the still wet blood.
They dropped out into a big basement. It was dark, of course, and full of furniture with cobwebs and other nasty things crawling all over them. There was an open box full of candles and other decorations for the stone walls of the very old building. Faded paintings of Mary and baby Jesus, beads and hymn books, the occasional shipment of extra bibles. And a large streak of blood trailing from the bottom step and disappearing into the darkness. Dean gasped as Cassiel cautiously stepped forward, pushing Dean behind him.
He passed her a flashlight that she hadn't realized he'd had on his person, and she turned it on, shining it on their path through the basement. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but a skinny man with paper white skin, dark red blood flowing down from his chin, and bright red eyes was not it. She gasped as it looked up at them, dropping the dead nun in his arms with a dull 'thud'. His stringy black hair hung down around his pointy shoulders, his narrow face stretched thin over his skull. His thin lips were pulled back into a hungry snarl, black fingernails glinting in the flashlight as he used the back of his dirty suit jacket sleeve to wipe his face.
Dean stumbled back as he lunged, pushing Cassiel away like he was a sack of potatoes. "Father Karras!" She shouted in panic as she instinctually stepped backwards, attempting to run. The man, or demon as she'd considered him, was faster than she was, and wrapped his spindly too long fingers around her forearm. He yanked her back painfully, dislocating her shoulder and making her scream a high pitched, panicked sound. The demons mouth opened, and he yanked her head to the side with his free hand, but before he could tear into her neck, Cassiel had gotten to his feet, and he thrust a sharp wooden cross into the demons' shoulder.
The demon's skin splintered underneath the torn suit jacket, and he looked back at Cassiel in something akin to shock and rage as he threw away Dean. She hit the stone wall hard, sliding down and seeing starts sparkle through her vision. The flashlight had long since fallen from her hand, casting an eerie light onto the priest and the creature that were now facing each other.
"How did you do that?" The demon hissed to the priest as he reached up and yanked out the cross. He threw it at the priest with enough force and speed that Cassiel would have been impaled had he not dodged out of the way.
"You do not belong here, creature," Cassiel yelled at it. He dashed for his bag that had been discarded onto the floor and dug inside and pulled out a torch, and some lighter fluid. All he got in return was a nasally laugh and the being swiped at him with a long, skinny arm. Cassiel dodged this attack as well, pouring the lighter fluid over the cloth at the blunt end of the torch and lit it with a small zippo he'd had in his pocket.
The fire blazed, causing the shadows to dance across the now lit room. Dean pulled herself shakily to her feet, her face pale in horror as she looked around at the carnage that she could now see. At least a dozen nuns were lying dead in unceremonious piles. Their throats ripped out, blood staining their coifs, wimples, and robes. Priests' native to the region were unrecognizable, some of them having their faces smashed in so thoroughly that fragments of bone were intermingled with the mangled flesh. Dean gagged, feeling the bile push its way up from her stomach.
The demon cackled, swatting away the torch. Dean made eye contact with Cassiel, who looked down at his bag. He began to taunt the creature, keeping its eyes off of Dean as she slowly and quietly made her way down to her knees, crawling to the bag and shifting through it. It was still difficult to see, but she shifted through the contents, trying to get a grip on anything that might help. She'd seen horror movies before, like The Exorcist, but this didn't look anything like that. She had no idea what she was doing, but the only things left in the bag were a bible, rope, a canteen of holy water, and... weirdly enough, a small silver wood ax. She grasped the ax, just as Cassiel was thrusting the fire into the things face.
"Pour the holy water on it," he yelled through his teeth. Dean quickly uncapped the holy water and with shaking hands, poured it over the blade of the ax. She stood up right on time for the creature to suddenly redirect in her direction. On instinct, she raised the ax and brought it down hard. She screamed as the blade clanged on the hard skin of whatever this creature was, sinking in with some difficulty. It screamed in pain and rage but didn't attack again. Instead, it took off up the stairs faster than her human eyes could see.
Breathing heavily, she looked around her, then down at her now empty hands. She couldn't breathe, her chest heaving up and down and her head feeling like it was being squeezed through a very narrow tube. Her insides seized, and she doubled over, dry heaving as Cassiel hurried over to her. She couldn't hear what he was whispering to her, but his hands rubbed soothing circles on her back and eventually he helped her stand, putting her hands up over her head to open her lungs.
"Wh-what was that?" She stammered once she managed to catch her breath.
"A vampire," answered Cassiel gravely. "One whose been starved for a very long time, by the looks of it," he finishes, looking at what looked like a small prison cell. Broken chains were falling from the metal enclosure shaped like a casket. It had been embedded into the stone wall so that it could not punch its way out. The hinges on the rusted steel door were jagged and broken from something smashed it open from the outside. "Someone set it free."
And now it was out in the world to do as it pleased. Dean shuttered, feeling her shock finally wear down enough to feel how her knees practically knocked together she was shaking so horribly. Suddenly, she missed the safety of her very boring bedroom.