Page 62

I handed the chalice back to Father O’Malley, leaving barely a drop at the bottom, which he gave to Desiderius.

From the corner, Ruth and Rebecca watched at a distance where the pain was more bearable, witnessing something they couldn’t yet comprehend. Their time would come, or it wouldn’t—faith couldn’t be forced, only offered and accepted.

As Father O’Malley completed the Mass, the pressure gradually subsided, leaving in its wake a strange clarity. I felt more present in my body than I had since my transformation, more aware of its limitations and its possibilities. I was still undead, still caught between worlds, but for the first time, I understood that this liminal existence might have a purpose beyond mere survival.

In the stillness that followed the final blessing, I found myself remembering a psalm Daddy had often quoted during his sermons: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

I had been walking through that valley since the night Mercy Brown drained my life. But in this moment, with Christ’s blood still warm within me, I made a silent vow: though I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I would not allow death to claim or define me. I would live—not just exist, but truly live—in whatever form God had allowed me to continue.

Desiderius caught my eye across the altar, his ancient face peaceful despite the burns that still marked it. He nodded once, recognizing something in my expression that told him I had crossed a threshold. That I’d been made new.

Father O’Malley extinguished the candles one by one, returning the chamber to shadow. But something of the light remained, glowing within me like an ember that refused to die. Whatever came next—whether hunting the Order that had created and betrayed us, or finding others of our kind who might be shown this path—I would carry that ember forward, proof that even in darkness, light could endure.

I glanced at Ruth and Rebecca, still huddled together in their corner. They were my responsibility now—not just as their sire, but as someone who had glimpsed a truth they might someday be ready to embrace. I would not abandon them to the night, to the hunger, to the despair that came with believing oneself damned beyond redemption.

“Rest now,” I told them softly. “Dawn approaches, and with it, dreams. Tomorrow night, we begin again.”

And in the sacred darkness of that hidden chamber, surrounded by the living and the undead, I felt something I had not expected to find again: real joy, real life, real love.

THE END OF BOOK ONE

To Be Continued in…