A Welcome into Darkness

Veil of the Undead

Introduction

The church appeared dank and unkempt. A foul smell lurched from the outside but seem to becoming from the inside with a vapid odor. George remembered scouting the place the day before and it seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. A simple urban sanctuary littered with the basic necessities, fine ornate decorations hanging outside, perfect stained glass windows inset in bricked security. A place where most people gathered in assembly to listen to powerful sermons, take up the Eucharist in pleasant fashion, and especially to pray to the most high. Mostly for protection or for solace, for loved ones who passed away, to have long meaningful lives. Everything seemed to be alright according to George who spent most of his day wandering the streets of London.

When he peered upon the old Victorian church during the afternoon sun people walked in and out of the grandiose building. Pulpit boys always helped out the elderly to and from the pews. Distinguished gentlemen of high class always were first in line, always the first to be seated in front of the mass. It just so happened to be a Sunday right when the procession of mass had begun. The priest said his prayers and spoke from the good book. George made his way inside, attended mass as if he was a mere babe in Christ following what others were doing. He never seen such a ritual performed in such high stakes.

The kneeling, the giving of wine and bread, the psalms spoken and then like one gigantic pulse the congregation all spoke "Amen." He was not used to such devotion and dedication. Back in America he was more akin to the reverend or ministers choosing passages from the good book. They spoke directly from the word of God, never paraphrasing but making analogies that fit with the times and what had been working through the people's minds. Reverends spoke the thunderous sermons, either highlighting God's love or condemning others with his wrath. Laymen and Christians understood most ministers because they spoke their own language, for the common man.

But this had been something different, the priest sitting in the place of Christ, hailing above the congregation. The ritual of mass was new to George, something he never witnessed before. He noticed the people in the pews nodding to when he translated psalms for the congregation. Never taking a literal approach to what was written but putting his own unique twist on a parable or maybe even a verse taken severely out of context. This happened not to be the reason why he attended. The reason given was for one simple instruction...to analyze.

At the Lab...

Dr. Carter and his assistant, Edward Redgrave both spoke to George in high esteem so many nights. They constantly went over what Carter supposedly narrowed down to as what he called a "nest." This so called "nest" intrigued George and sparked his curiosity. He remembered Carter brought him out into the garden of his home one day only to find out it was no ordinary garden.

"Mr. O'Rourke," Carter said in proper English dialect, "The vampire is cunning. Ferocious and vile are its methods. I have do doubt you have experienced this before."

"I have," George spoke softly.

"Then you know what we are up against."

Carter led George out into his homegrown garden but something smelled terribly wrong. The scent was not of flowers or weeds overgrown, a foul stench permeated the evening air. There seemed to be no end to it as George coughed and held his arm over his mouth and nose. Carter laughed heartedly as he pointed towards the ground. It took a while for George to catch on but he pointed to where the smelled originated from. It came from the earth.