Chapter 3: Part 1

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The sound of bells tolling fills my ears. No, that's cannon fire. But it sounds like bells...like the bells in the St. Louis Cathedral. Bells tolling for Sunday services. On Sundays, my suitor spent the evening in prayer. And I often found him praying other nights as well. I shared his deep conviction to both God and the Church.

While I degree of fervor was more or less equal, I sharp disagreements over doctrine often resulted in arguments. All these experiences have made me who I am: shaped me and guided me and brought me here, hiding from the sun while the battle rages on the fields nearby. Yes, I have much to ponder before the sun sets.

My thoughts return to the present, and I had consider this creature beside me, resting in something akin to sleep. As the hours pass, I find myself unable to do much more than squirm in misery as my heartbeat stills, my respiration becomes unnecessary, and my bowels begin to shrivel. Thankfully, the clash above neatly conceals any screams I may or may not have unleashed.

I awake, ravenous. It takes all the strength that my patron possesses to fend me off. The two of us emerge from the demi-cellar and into the ruins of the burnt-out croft. The world is full of new sensations. From what I can tell, the battle here did not go well for the Americans, as most of the bodies I see are theirs. Otherwise, the west bank seems almost empty of people.

My maker smiles. "Can you smell that, dear Athena? It smells like someone has survived the battle." Soon, I too can smell blood on the breeze; a fresh wound oozes nearby. The churn of sweat and iron distinguishes it from the waterfall of blood now soaked into the soil of the day's battlefield. With a curt nod,my patron releases me in the direction of my first kill.

Tonight, I will feast.


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