- Bridget -

Shit. I broke another plate. I knew being a maid wouldn’t work out.

It was that guy’s fault. If he hadn’t surprised me by sneaking up behind me, I wouldn’t have dropped the plate.

Wasn’t he the guy from yesterday when we arrived at the castle? Dante I think?

“Can I help you?” I asked.

The man placed a clawed hand over his chest. “Yes, I am Lord Dante Gris. High Priest of Haimorrha. I was just looking for a maid to help me with a certain task.”

While he was talking the other maid stooped to the floor to clean up the broken plate at my feet. Hey! That was my mess to clean up! I moved to stop her, but before I could she cut her finger on a plate shard. Blood collected into a drop on her fingertip.

Dante was at her side in an instant, taking her hand in his own. “We can’t have this go to waste,” he said, and licked the blood off her finger.

“Lord Dante, please,” she whimpered. “I’m not worthy.”

“Nonsense, your blood is very high quality. Perhaps you should be the one that I take with me? To the temple.”

“The temple?” I asked. “You need a maid to go to the temple?”

He glanced at me, dropping the other maid’s hand. “Yes, are you interested?”

I nodded. I was very interested! “I’ve actually been wanting to visit the temple. What do you need done?”

“Just some cleaning.”

He had me grab a sponge and a bucket of soapy water, and we set out.

“We use blood in our rituals,” he told me. “It’s rather messy, so I think Haimorrha might appreciate having his temple cleaned a bit. The ceremony has just recently ended, so there will still be a few priests there. Pay them no mind; they are my servants.”

We were at the door of the temple. “I won’t be following you inside, I have other business to attend to. You will clean it on your own. And one last thing,” his eyes began to glow. “Clean the temple thoroughly, and do not betray me.”

I found myself nodding.

As soon as I stepped through the door, I felt something. A presence. I wasn’t sure if this was what Priscilla was talking about. She described her feeling as a “strong connection.” I should have asked her to be more specific. Since this was my first time stepping foot into a temple, I had nothing to compare it to.

Directly in front of was a huge statue of a muscular and very nude man. His arms were stretched outward, and so were the giant bat wings extending from his back. There were blood stains spattered across the floor, but most of the blood was on statue itself which had been stained completely red with blood. Did Dante want me to clean the statue, or just the floor? I suppose I should clean them both, just to be safe.

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There were three vampires in the room, kneeling on the ground lost in prayer. And in the corner sat a small shadowy wolf with eyes glued to me.

I stood in front of the statue, the presence growing stronger as I approached. Was Haimorrha the one who granted me immortality? I couldn’t tell. I dipped the sponge in the soapy water, and touched it to the statue. The room felt heavy. I wouldn’t be able to get the stains out with just soap, but I could at least clean off the coagulated blood.

“Maid! What do you think you’re doing?” I jumped as a voiced yelled from behind me. Turning my head, I saw a very pissed looking man with long crimson hair, and Dante standing behind him.

“Uhh… cleaning?” I mumbled, awkwardly holding a bloody sponge in my hand. So I wasn’t supposed to clean the statue then? Geez, Dante could have been a little clearer about that.

Shocked recognition crossed the man’s face as he saw me. “You’re Stacy’s…” His eyes turned back to anger and he strode across the room toward me.

He was going to restrain me. This wasn’t good. I wasn’t done yet. I still didn’t know if Haimorrha was responsible for my immortality. I had to assume that he was. In that case, my plan moved on to the next stage. How could I lose Haimorrha’s grace? There was only one thing I had to go off. The statue wasn’t to be cleaned. I lifted the bucket in my arms. The red haired man’s eyes twisted in horror as Dante grinned a delighted smile. I twisted and emptied the bucket onto the statue, pouring soapy water all over their object of worship.

In the next moment the red haired man would reach me, but he didn’t. It was as if time had stopped. The world darkened and gravity intensified. No, it wasn’t as if time had stopped. Time did stop. I turned to look at the statue, but in its place stood a burning red figure with eyes glowing as bright as the sun and huge bat wings that spanned the width of the room. Power flowed from his body like torrential winds, forcing me back onto my rear.

A deep voice resounded through the chamber, shaking the earth from the shear magnitude. “Bridget Bridges,” echoed the voice of the god. “I am Haimorrha. God of Blood, the Night, Conquest, and Desire. You have committed a grave sin in my presence. What do you have to say for yourself?”

My blood ran cold. I did something really foolish in the heat of the moment. Haimorrha might not even be the one who gave me immortality. Even if he wasn’t though, he was still a god. Could he kill me anyway? Suddenly, an alien feeling surged through my veins. Confidence? I had no right to feel confident in this situation. I struggled to my feet, leaning into the wind of his presence. “Strike me dead!” I demanded boldly, a strange confidence filling my veins.

His laughter shook the room. “You desired to earn my ire, well you have earned it. I shall not grant your wish for death. Instead, I shall give you a curse of blood. From today onward, you shall bleed every day for the rest of your life!”

“What the hell kind of curse is that!?” I taunted the god. “Is that the most you can do to me? For your information, I already bleed every day, willingly! If not with a blade, then with the teeth of a vampire. You can’t even give me a proper punishment. Are you even capable of killing me?”

Despite my hopes, the god didn’t change his mind. He didn’t strike me dead, and he didn’t even afford me another word. The image of the god vanished, and time returned to its normal pace.

The red haired man eyed me with horror. “You have committed a vile crime against our god,” he snarled, his hair rising into the air like it was charged with static electricity. “The penalty is death.” Large bat wings similar to the red god’s own sprouted from the man’s back and he crossed the room in an instant. He unsheathed a sword and lopped off my head.

The world twisted and spun, and I was embraced by darkness once again.