He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Can I help you, Father?The priest smiled. Connor, good to see you again. He shook hands, then peeked inside the office. Fascinating. Ive never seen this room before. May I Connor motioned for him to enter, then followed him inside.
Father Andrew pivoted, scanning the office. His eyebrows rose at the sight of all the weapons in the caged-off area in the back. He turned toward the wall of surveillance monitors. I wanted to let you know how much we appreciate you keeping us safe during Mass.
Connor inclined his head. It wasnt an idle compliment. The Malcontents had tried bombing the chapel before. With Roman in attendance, along with Angus MacKay and other high-profile members of the bottle-drinking Vamp world, they were practically begging for an attack.
The priest gestured to the screen showing the chapel. So you were still able to watch the service?
Aye. Connor didnt admit that hed kept the volume turned off. I wasna here all the time. I did four perimeter checks.
Youre very vigilant, Father Andrew said with the hint of a smile. The silver fringe of hair surrounding his bald crown indicated an advanced age, yet his clear blue eyes and smooth skin lent him an oddly youthful and innocent appearance. Roman and his family are fortunate to have you.
Connor shifted his weight. Roman is verra important. The priests smile widened. You are all important in the eyes of the Lord. I was wondering why you volunteer to guard us every week. Surely you could take turns with the other men? I havent seen you at Mass for months now.
Connor winced inwardly. He should have known this was coming.
Im concerned about you, the priest continued. Perhaps its my imagination, but I feel like youve grown more isolated and . . . unhappy in the last few years. Roman agrees Ye talked to Roman about me? Connor snapped.
The priests eyes widened, but he remained quiet until Connor felt a twinge of guilt for raising his voice.
Roman tells me youre approaching your five hundredth birthday, Father Andrew said in a soothing tone. Ive heard that can cause feelings of depression or Bull crap. or anger, the priest finished his sentence with a pointed look. In your case, I fear youre shutting yourself off from your friends, which will result in you feeling even more alone. What do you think, Connor? Do you feel isolated?
Not isolated enough since he was forced to endure this conversation. He shoved the annoying strand of hair behind his ear. Tis no the same anymore. All the men are getting married.
I heard that you disapprove of their relationships.
Connor shot him an irritated look. Tis no that I want them to be lonely and miserable. They just doona see the risk theyre taking. Theres nothing more important to vampires than keeping our existence a secret. That has been our top priority for centuries, and theyre foolishly flaunting it.
Theyre in love.
Connor snorted.
You dont believe in love?
Connor grimaced as if hed been poked with a spear. Oh, he believed in love all right. Love was a bitch.
Father Andrew watched him closely. Theres no need to feel alone, Connor. You could come to Mass with your friends and take Holy Communion.
The wily priest was going for the jugular. Connor was purposely avoiding Communion. Hed been raised to believe he would have to go to confession first.
Father Andrew slipped on his reading glasses and removed a Day-Timer from his coat pocket. Id like to set up an appointment with you.
Im busy.
The priest ignored that remark as he thumbed through the pages. Roman would give you the time off.
No thanks.
How about next Thursday evening at nine? I could meet you here.
Nay.
With his hand resting on an open page of his Day-Timer, Father Andrew peered over the rims of his reading glasses. Ive been a priest for over fifty years. I can tell when a man is in need of confession.
Connor stepped back, his jaw clenched. I confess nothing.
Father Andrew removed his glasses and fixed his blue eyes on Connor with a hard stare. You wont scare me away. I will fight for you.
A chill crept over Connors skin. The fight had been lost centuries ago.
The priest closed his Day-Timer with a snap and stuffed it into his coat pocket. I assume you fought in the Great Vampire War of 1710? And until Roman invented synthetic blood in 1987, you survived by feeding off humans?
Connor folded his arms across his chest. So in lieu of a confession, the priest was attempting an interrogation.
Ive learned a great deal about your world in the last five years. Father Andrew slid his glasses back into his chest pocket. I seriously doubt there is anything you could tell me that I havent heard before.
He was wrong about that. Connor motioned toward the door to indicate that the meeting was over.
A hint of amusement glinted in the priests eyes. Youre a man of few words. I like that. He took one last look around the room, and his gaze fell on the screen showing DVN. That woman looks familiar. Wasnt she the one who tried to wreak havoc on Jacks engagement party?
Connor glanced at the monitor, which displayed a close-up of a woman whose bright red lips were twisted into a smug smile. Thats Corky Courrant. She hosts the show Live with the Undead.
So this is the vampire channel? The priest stepped closer. Ive never seen it before.
Connor sighed. The old man seemed fascinated with anything from the vampire world. Along the bottom of the screen, a message announced that Corky was about to interview her mystery guest. Corky quivered with excitement as the camera moved back and the shot widened.
Connors jaw dropped. Bloody hell! He leaped toward the screen and punched the buttons to record and turn up the volume.
reached the pinnacle of my journalistic career, Corky said, motioning to her guest. It is an honor to have you on my show, Casimir.a
Father Andrew gasped. Thats Casimir?
Connor zipped over to the desk and hit the alarm button that emitted a sound too high-pitched for human ears. The Vamps and shifters in the fellowship hall would hear it and rush to the office within seconds.
Connor glanced down at the dagger in his knee sock while he reached overhead to make sure his claymore was in place. Tell them I went to DVN, he told the priest, then teleported away.
There was a big sign posted just inside the Brooklyn headquarters of the Digital Vampire Network. Auditions tonight for All My Vampires! Male romantic lead role.
Connor frowned as he pushed his way into the crowded waiting room. Apparently, over a hundred young Vamps wanted to star in DVNs most popular soap opera. Theyd come dressed for the part, most of them in black tuxedos. Others had opted for costumes: a gladiator, a matador, a Dracula with a long silk cape. Connor wrinkled his nose at the staggering scent of cologne and hair gel.
Hey! A young Vamp in a black trench coat and dark sunglasses nudged him. You have to get in line first to fill out the forms. He pointed a black-painted fingernail at the queue that snaked around the room.
Connor reached overhead and pulled out his claymore. With a chorus of gasps and squeals, the lads parted like the Red Sea.
Aw, shoot, he brought his own props, muttered a young Vamp in a cowboy costume. And that kilt looks awesome. I wish Id thought of that.
Damn. A Mr. Darcy impersonator tugged at his lacy cravat. I knew I should have gone with the butch look.
Connor strode toward the receptionist desk.
The girls mouth dropped open at the sight of his drawn sword. II
She appeared incapable of communicating in a coherent manner, so he skirted the desk and headed for the double doors behind her.
Wait! the receptionist cried. You cant go
Her words were cut off when the doors swung shut. He hurried down the hallway, hoping to find the recording studio before Casimir could escape. If he could kill the bloody bastard tonight, the Malcontents would scatter in disarray. Countless human lives could be saved.
He spotted the red flashing light outside a studio and resisted the urge to rush in with a war cry. Instead, he quietly opened the door and slipped inside. It was dark by the entrance, but across the room, two dim lights illuminated the stage. Connor weaved silently around the cameras, which appeared to be turned on, although they were unmanned.
You know I love you, a male voice whispered behind a monitor. You make me look so good.
Connor groaned inwardly. The voice didnt belong to Casimir, but to Stone Cauffyn. Apparently, now that the Nightly News was over, the newscaster was dallying with a lover, perhaps a makeup artist who made him look good.
Connor rounded the monitor and discovered Stone in a passionate embrace with . . . his hairbrush.
Aagh! Stone jumped and his brush clattered onto the floor. I say, you scared the dickens out of me.