This was ultimately how the priest came to meet Marcus. It was upon a dark stretch of alley shortly after the priest had bought himself another bottle of the scotch he had come to love. This would be his second bottle of the evening. He was already stumbling about; blatantly drunk, and purely belligerent. The liquor store clerk had threatened to call the police if he didn’t leave, but in the end the priest was able to convince the clerk to make the sale by tossing an extra tenner on the counter.

Pleased with his score, the priest stumbled and staggered down the alleyway, when he noticed the stunningly beautiful woman, and the tall man that had her in his grasp. Her legs were wrapped firmly around his waist, and she was very much enjoying the powerful thrusts coming from his pelvis. Just another two timing banker, and a cheap whore, the priest thought. He considered turning around until he realized something terribly wrong with this picture. After all, wasn’t the two timing banker far too pale in the moonlight? Furthermore, didn’t two timing bankers wear fancy suits, instead of trench coats and wide brimmed fedoras? The priest began to move closer, carefully clutching the silver spike that he kept in his pocket. Suddenly, the woman’s moans stopped and blood began to flow freely from her neck. She gasped, and then she was no more. The man turned to face the priest and said,



“Move along, priest. This is no concern of yours.” The man shot the priest a deadly red eyed glare, but the priest was far too inebriated to understand what the man was saying, let alone be intimidated by it. He produced the spike and lunged at the beast. The vampire dodged with remarkable speed and agility. His hand flickered out clamped down tightly around the priest’s wrist. The priest let out an audible yelp as he felt the bones in his wrist snap like twigs, forcing him to drop the spike. The vampire grabbed the priest by the throat and slammed him against a wall. The priest hit the ground with a sickening thud, and clutched at his throat with his good hand. A trickle of blood began to drop out of the corner of his mouth.

“NEVER try to hunt the undead in your condition,” the vampire said, “I have no quarrel with you, priest. Move along.” The priest produced a crucifix, the holy sigil of his convictions. The vampire only laughed, “That only works in the movies. Go home, priest. You’re beat.” The vampire tipped his hat and began to walk into the shadows.



