Page 12 of Of Faith and Fangs
“We need you,” Mr. Brown said, and I saw in his eyes that he truly believed it. “My son’s life depends on it.”
He stood, and for a moment he seemed to waver, as if unsure the floor would hold him. Then he straightened, the old stiffness returning to his shoulders.
“I will see you tonight,” he said.
He did not wait for a response. He let himself out, the door slamming behind him.
My father and I sat in silence until the fire died down and the cold crept back into the room. I wanted to ask him what he believed, but I was afraid of his answer.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.
“You will do as Mr. Brown requests.” It was more a command than a request. “I am sorry, Alice. I never wanted to involve you in any of this.”
I couldn’t protest. It wasn’t my place. “Yes, father.”
Chapter 5
The church after nightfall was nothing like the church by day. In daylight, it was austere but familiar, every shadow accounted for. At night, it was a mouth with all its teeth pulled, the absence of song or sermon leaving a silence that pressed against the windows and oozed beneath the doors.
I slipped through the side entrance, my shawl pulled tight and my footsteps barely audible on the stone floor. The nave was empty, the pews like rows of gravestones. The pulpit loomed overhead, carved with verses that once seemed immutable but now felt as fragile as ice. The only light came from the crack under the basement door, a wavering orange that pulsed like a heartbeat.
I paused at the top of the steps, letting my eyes adjust, then made my way down. The air grew colder with each step, and by the time I reached the bottom, my breath was visible in the candle glow. There were maybe a dozen men in the room, arranged in a semicircle of chairs. Some I recognized—Mr. Hobbes the butcher, Mr. Norris from the school, old Doctor Fields whose hands shook so badly he had to tie his pen to his wrist. There were others I’d only seen at a distance, nodding along to my father’s Sunday sermons.
They were not the men I knew. By candlelight, their faces were waxy and severe, their expressions stripped of every trace of neighborliness. They sat rigid, hands folded or gripping their knees, and did not look up as I entered.
Mr. Brown stood at the center, back straight, eyes fixed on some distant point above our heads. There were papers in his hands, and as I approached, he shuffled them nervously, as if the act itself might conjure up the courage he lacked.
He cleared his throat. “We begin.”
No one moved, but the silence somehow deepened.
“Miss Bladewell,” he said, “thank you for coming.”
He gestured for me to take a seat at the end of the arc. I obeyed, folding my hands in my lap, determined to show no fear. The only woman in a room full of men who’d decided I was necessary.
Mr. Brown turned to address the gathering. “Brothers,” he said, “we are met tonight because the evil we have long feared has come among us. Not as rumor or suspicion, but as a fact. My own daughter is the proof.”
A few of the men shifted in their seats, but none spoke.
“She is dead, and yet the devil lives through her,” George continued. “She has visited Edwin in the night, and left him weaker each time. I have seen her, and I have seen the thing that walks with her. Miss Bladewell has seen it as well.”
He looked to me, and in the silence I realized he was asking me to confirm it.
“Yes,” I said. My voice echoed off the stone.
Mr. Norris leaned forward, his knuckles white. “How can we be certain?” he said, voice trembling. “There have been stories, but—“
“Let the girl speak,” someone muttered from the shadows.
I cleared my throat, feeling all their eyes on me. “It wasn’t a person,” I said, searching for words. “Or if it was, it’s not anymore. I saw it in the sanatorium. It moved like smoke. And Mercy—she didn’t fight. She seemed… relieved.”
A hush fell, thicker than before.
Mr. Hobbes let out a breath through his nose. “So it’s true,” he said. “A vampire.”
The word landed with a thud. No one laughed.
Mr. Brown nodded. “It is true. My daughter has become the very thing we are sworn to fight.”
