Vampyre: Desire Immortal

Chapter 7

The Rotten Stinking Corpse

You call to Evil, and He answers you!

Can you begin to fathom what you have done?

*****

The old witch skittered down into the black hole.

"What is she doing?" asked the bishop.

"My Lord," said Perdix, "she is gathering some of the dirt the bones have been resting upon."

"The witch is wasting time," he said.

"Fye," said Perix, "hurry up. We are losing precious night."

"Don't get your nipples in an uproar," the old witch yelled from inside the grave. "It isn't everyday a blessing such as this comes around. My sack is almost full. I am going as fast as I can."

She climbed out of the grave and began to help Perdix unwrap the strips of cloth that bound the body.

"I am glad that Dyryke is not a rotten stinking corpse," said the bishop. "I would hate to think I spewed the pottage on which I just supped all over this unholy ground."

The bishop belched loudly. He rubbed his large stomach.

Perdix's stomach growled. It had been many hours since he'd eaten the small piece of black bread and honey.

As Perdix finished loosening the last bit of rag from the body, he whistled softly.

"Look, Fye. The body is bones but the face is . . ."

"The face," Fye said, "looks like it was never in the ground. And he is as handsome as I remember. Such a face was sculpted by the gods, Perdix. I feel like jumping his bones and riding in joy to the moon."

"Do not even think such things, Fye. Tis a black omen," whispered Perdix.

"You are right. Forgive me," said Fye. "But you have to admit, he is beautiful even in death."

"If you two magpies are finished, I would like to get this over with."

The bishop had opened the Book of Spells and began reciting in Latin over the body. He refused to look at the corpse, reading as quickly as he could to finish the spell.

"You must have paid him a pretty penny, Perdix," Fye whispered. "Dyryke was buried in secret. No one knew the chalice was buried with him."

"Aye. Between the two of you, I will die a pauper."

Fye held no store in the richly robed man's words. He was flabby and soft and obviously deaf to the wisdom of the Ancients. But never in a million sunsets could she have imagined what would happen next.