Strange Desire

Wicked Game

The old church was withering and worn down, long forgotten after the new one had been built. Most of the valuables within it had been moved to the new location, but there were still some secrets kept in the old walls and floorboards, if one knew where to look.

Rookery slipped between the broken windows and stepped inside, mindful of the glass shards scattered on the floor. The beginnings of a thunderstorm rattled the panes and old wood beams of the church. He crept silent and lightfooted through the remains of the nave, eyes straining in the dark. He stopped halfway to where the altar once stood.

At his feet was an off-center stone slab. He knelt over it, brushing dirt and debris away. He took the small sledge hammer hanging from his belt and poised it over the slab. His arm held still as he listened for anyone or anything that may be watching. There was only the sound of the first raindrops falling through the holes in the ceiling.

Lightning flashed through the old windows and thunder roared after, particularly close. Rookery smashed at the edges of the slab. He kept watch over his shoulders, wary of any shadows moving in the dark. The slab came loose. He pried broken bits of stone away, pushing the larger piece aside, and found a black hole open up underneath. He reached inside and pulled a box out. Small, intricately carved.

Inside, were swaths of fabric wrapped around a small cross. The wood it was carved from was black and shimmering, appearing as pristine as the day it was made.

"I found it, finally," Rookery dared to breathe to himself.

The ceiling rattled again with another flash of light.

Rookery had followed his vampire prey here to this valley, and found residence after the creature's took shelter in the castle at the edge of town. He kept a watchful eye on them. Though with his truck destroyed and his only companion currently ignoring him back in Transylvania, Rookery was currently on his own. The vampires knew he was there. They had proven to be formidable against him. Without backup, Rookery had taken a more defensive approach.

They watched him. He kept his nocturnal routine, going out into the hills at night, scouting their positions and movements. He was a hunter by nature after all. He placed spells and enchantments on the cottage he rented to keep them away. In the early hours of the evening, before the whole village went to sleep, sometimes he would catch one of them following him between businesses and bars, lurking quietly in the shadows.

He offered the villagers his services to deal with their vampire issue, but they declined, to his surprise. It turns out having so-called vampires haunting the old castle bed and breakfast was good for business. Tourists came to the village to try to catch a glimpse of the rumored creatures, which brought in money. The town and the people were flourishing and they had made it very clear to Rookery that he better not do anything stupid to ruin it.

They allowed him to stay. After all, having a real vampire hunter did add to the allure of the mystery. Rookery kept to himself though. He refused to be a tourist attraction. It was a complete mockery of himself.

So he watched silently, and the vampires watched him back. It was a stare down. Rookery abided by the town's rules, but just because he couldn't hunt, didn't mean he could not keep himself prepared. This small trinket would enhance the spells around his home. He stowed the black cross and tiny box away in the inner pocket of his brown jacket, a grin sneaking onto his face. This little artifact may be very useful to him someday.

The crumbling church groaned under the weight of the wind. The clouds overhead swirled dark and angry as if they knew Rookery had just desecrated a once holy place. He stood as he felt the air charge around him. He ran to the window he had come through.