I gave the signal for the door to be opened, and as Father Ben started to move it, a faint creak of hinges made my pulse quicken. With the door cracked just enough to let sound filter through, the distant voices sharpened into focus. I caught a snippet of conversation: one of the vampires -his tone agitated and laced with doubt -was arguing about whether their target was even inside. His words were clipped, accusatory.

“Maybe he’s not even here,” the voice sneered.

Another voice, lower and more commanding, cut in with a growl. The irritation practically radiated through the crack. It was familiar, though not in a way that brought comfort.

“Don’t question me. We were told he’d come here. Do you want to tell the boss we failed because you didn’t trust the intel?”

There was a sharp silence, the kind that usually comes before something ugly. I froze, holding up a hand behind me to signal Father Ben to stop. The door shifted slightly under the tension, but Ben steadied it, his movements careful, deliberate.

We stood like that for what felt like forever, though it was probably just seconds. The vampires outside continued their exchange, oblivious to the near-silent opening of the door. A name slipped out, carried on the edge of an annoyed retort.

“Lester.”

Hearing it was like striking a match in a dark room. A flash of memory surged through my mind, but I couldn’t quite grab hold of it before it burned out. I clenched my jaw, biting back a curse. Whoever Lester was, he wasn’t someone I wanted knocking at my door uninvited.

Having heard enough, I motioned for Father Ben to close the door. He complied, easing it shut with practiced precision. For such a massive piece of craftsmanship, the door moved almost soundlessly, like it had been built specifically to protect against moments like this. Even the air displacement was barely noticeable, more like a whispered sigh than a breath.

When it clicked back into place, Ben leaned closer, his voice low and calm. “What did you hear?”

I turned toward him, keeping my voice just above a whisper. “I heard something that changed my mind. They’re not sure their target is here. I’m guessing I’m the target, but how is it possible they don’t know for sure?”

Ben’s brow furrowed, and I could hear the thoughtful cadence of his breathing. “That is… curious. Typically, vampires -particularly powerful ones- can detect the presence of others of their kind in their territory. It’s a territorial instinct, much like predators guarding their hunting grounds.”

I folded my arms, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, great. But if I’m one of them now, shouldn’t I set off their creepy vampire radar like a neon sign? How can they not know?”

Ben hesitated before responding. “You are something of an enigma, Declan, as I’ve mentioned. Your transformation occurred under extremely unusual circumstances: the Super Blood Moon, Friday the 13th… events like these may have influenced your unique nature. In your current state, it’s possible you’re effectively indistinguishable from a mortal.”

I blinked -or at least tried to. Still not used to not having vision. “Okay, but then how did they track me here in the first place?”

Ben’s tone took on a contemplative edge. “I may have an answer for that.”

I gestured with a flick of my fingers. “By all means, Sherlock, enlighten me.”

Ben motioned for me to follow, his footsteps steady as we moved away from the door and deeper into the church. The air shifted slightly as we entered a quieter, more secluded part of the building, the faint scent of incense lingering like a memory.

He stopped and turned toward me, his voice dropping to an even quieter pitch. “When I performed those tests earlier, temporarily awakening your hunger and… the beast within, I may have inadvertently made you more detectable. At least for a time. The reactions you experienced are not uncommon for new vampires, and during that moment, you were susceptible to many of the standard deterrents for your kind.”

I chewed on that for a moment. It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it did fit with the chaotic mess my life had become. “So, what you’re saying is, you painted a giant target on me when you poked the beast?”

“To be fair,” he said, the hint of a wry smile in his voice, “the target was already there. I simply made it… brighter.”

“Good to know,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “Okay, so if that’s the case, what’s the play now? Wait until they get bored and leave? Or do we throw on some Gregorian chants and pray for a miracle?”

Stolen novel; please report.

Ben chuckled softly, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing in my chest. “Neither. Follow me.”

I shrugged, though he couldn’t see it. “Lead on, Padre. Let’s see where this rabbit hole goes.”

As Father Ben guided me deeper into the church, my thoughts churned like a storm over open water. Lester. The name now had a weight, a jagged edge that cut through the haze of everything I’d been trying to piece together. He was the bastard who had stolen my sight, leaving me blind and stranded in this strange new existence. The memory wasn’t crystal clear -more like fragments of a mirror reflecting a shattered moment -but it was enough to fan the embers of my anger into something hotter, sharper.

And then there was the girl. The one I’d risked everything to save. She had survived. At least some good had come from all of this madness. The thought steadied me, anchored me against the tidal wave of uncertainty threatening to pull me under.

“Hey, Father Ben,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet like a dull blade, “where are we going?”

“I always have a back way out, in case of emergency,” he replied, his tone as calm and collected as ever.

“In the basement?” I asked, skepticism thick in my voice. “Doesn’t exactly scream ‘escape route.’”

“You’ll see,” he said simply, his footsteps echoing faintly against the cold stone walls.

The air grew cooler as we descended. It wasn’t the clean, crisp coolness of a fall morning, but something heavier -damp and ancient, like it had been trapped here for centuries. The faint scent of mildew mingled with the tang of metal and stone, tickling my heightened senses.

We reached the lab, a room I was beginning to associate with discomfort and revelations I wasn’t ready for. Ben moved with purpose, his hands brushing over various surfaces as he sought something specific. A soft click, and then the deep, resonant sound of stone sliding against stone filled the air. The noise made my skin crawl, like some forgotten mechanism was waking for the first time in ages.

“Do I even want to know what that was?” I muttered.

Ben ignored the question, leading me through the lab into a smaller, adjacent chamber. The space was colder still, the chill pressing against my skin like an unwelcome guest. He left me standing in the center while he worked at something on the far wall.

There was a grunt, then a muttered curse. Whatever he was fiddling with wasn’t cooperating. I heard the scrape of metal on metal, followed by a series of dull thuds. Finally, there was the satisfying clunk of latches unlocking. Wooden casement doors creaked open, and a rush of warm night air swept into the chamber, brushing against my face like an old friend.

“Uh… Father? What’s the deal? Where are we?” I asked, taking a cautious step toward the source of the fresh air.

“This, my boy, is the way out,” he said with a hint of pride.

I frowned, feeling the edges of confusion tugging at my already frayed nerves. “What do you mean, ‘the way out’? What’s out there?”

“It’s rather simple,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm. “You will go through that doorway, find your sire, and do what is necessary to cure yourself. Meanwhile, I will remain here and deal with the interlopers, should the need arise.”

I stared in his general direction, my grip tightening on nothing. “Wait. You’re not coming with me?”

“Oh, heavens no,” he said, as if I’d just asked him to swim with sharks. “You said they were interested in you. That means when you fail to appear, they will eventually tire of waiting and disperse. If they don’t, I have contingencies. Should they press the issue further, I’ll evacuate myself. But dawn is close, and they’ll have no choice but to retreat to their resting places soon.”

“And what about me?” I asked, feeling the edge of panic creeping into my voice. “Won’t the sun hurt me?”

Ben paused for a beat, long enough for the silence to feel heavy. “I don’t believe so,” he said finally. “As long as the hunger does not overtake you while you are exposed, you should be fine.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t sound very confident, Father.”

“I’d be lying if I said I was certain,” he admitted. “But I am reasonably sure. And in situations like these, ‘reasonably sure’ is rather good, if I do say so myself.”

I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of uncertainty. “Great. What’s the worst that could happen?” It wasn’t a question so much as a grim acknowledgment of how many ways this could go sideways.

Ben didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, he guided me toward the portal. The stone frame felt cold under my hands, smooth but not comforting. It wasn’t a door in the traditional sense -more like an oversized window with no clear view of what lay beyond.

“You sure about this?” I asked, hesitating.

“As sure as I can be,” Ben said. “Here, you may need these.” He pressed something into my hands -a pair of glasses. The frames felt sturdy but light, and they fit snugly when I slipped them on.

“What are these for?” I asked, though I suspected the answer wasn’t going to inspire confidence.

“A precaution,” he said cryptically.

“Right. Thanks for the pep talk,” I muttered. “Well, Father, it’s been… an experience.”

“Indeed it has, my boy,” he said, and for once, there was a trace of warmth in his voice. “I hope you are successful.”

“Me too,” I said.

With that, I finished climbing through the portal, the cool stone giving way to a brief drop. My feet hit the ground with a dull thud, the texture beneath me shifting to dirt and loose gravel. I straightened, turning instinctively to call back to Ben, but when I reached out, there was nothing. The portal was gone, the way back sealed as if it had never existed.

I stood there for a moment, the reality of my situation settling over me like a suffocating weight.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Where the hell am I?”

The night air was warm, carrying the faint scent of dry grass and something metallic, like rust. A faint breeze whispered against my skin, bringing with it the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. My enhanced senses reached out instinctively, scanning for any sign of immediate danger. The world around me was vast, open, and utterly unfamiliar.

I gritted my teeth, the frustration bubbling up again. “Alright, me,” I muttered to myself. “Time to figure out where the hell you landed. No pressure or anything.”