Of Gods and Monsters

love is a losing game

"Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing."

- Sylvia Plath

Lukas hadn't concerned himself much with Elek's or Mia's comings and goings, lately. He'd been more concerned with the ever present threat of the devils called vampir lurking within his city. With Mia preoccupied and Elek solving his monetary problems for the upcoming play, he was once again freed to resume his nightly "huntings".

It seemed that when he'd thought he had finally eradicated them from the streets gaggles of them appeared like the plague. He was beginning to become convinced that his bullets no longer were doing the job, until on a brisk night where Mia and Elek were otherwise engaged, his master made his way into the theater.

He was a tall, thin, and gangly person. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties, wearing a constant trench coat, rugged boots, and a long hat that hid most of his face. As Lukas ushered him in gleefully, he watched as he removed his hat and coat, baring his face to the world. The man had piercing blue eyes, eyes that held little expression, and long curly hair. It was slicked with something and shiney, and pitch black. He had a faint stubble to his chin, his jaw squared and chiseled out underneath it, his mouth drawn and thin. It hadn't escaped Lukas that his master had looked the same for many, many years. It was really no mystery at all to him.

After a few years of training, Lukas had become extremely uncomfortable with the growing implications of his master. His master never came to him during the day, he never let him see his face, and he never told him of his origins. He knew him as Abraham only, the angel who'd saved him, nothing more. It wasn't until Lukas, in fear and anger, had hit the hat off of Abraham's head that he learned of his master's origins.

What greeted him was the same face, all those years ago when he was a boy, not the face of a withering old man. Lukas knew then exactly what his master was. He was a devil himself. The hypocrisy of what they were doing made bile threaten to spill over his mouth and, embarrassingly, his first reaction had been to attack him.

"Cease this, boy."

He'd bellowed out after several failed attempts at his life had been thwarted, almost effortlessly.

"No, I will not! You're one of them, those creatures, those devils!"

Lukas had accused, with a shaking finger, his other hand clutching the silver cross necklace he'd given him all those years before. Limber and lithe movements, happening too quickly for Lukas to understand or comprehend, landed his master in front of him. He reached out, removing his gloves from his hands, and grasped the silver cross around Lukas's neck with a tight grip. Lukas expected him to draw away in pain, but he did not. He removed his hand and Lukas found, with amazement, that there was no burn to be found.

"I was made into a vampir a long time ago, against my will. However, by the grace of God, He has granted me my soul in exchange for the eradication of the devils. I prayed vigorously for a way to attain my soul back, a way to sate myself without damaging His precious creations, and He granted it to me."

He straightened then, dusting himself off and retrieving his hat, putting it back on top of his head, his long black curly hair nestling itself underneath. He gave Lukas a stern look.

"So I, Abraham Van Helsing, drink from the vampir and extinguish their existence from this earth. And once I am finished, I may finally walk in the sun again. This is the will of God, boy, do you accept these terms?"

Lukas had remembered looking at him with tears in his eyes. How could he refuse?

Presently, his master sat opposite him, his face resting in his hands as he waited for Lukas to explain to him why he was here. He cleared his throat and began.