Chapter 2 #2
Unlike the rest of us, Desiderius maintained the appearance of the era in which he had been turned.
His severe black clothing with its starched white collar belonged to a prosperous merchant of the 1660s, not the modern world of 1914.
His pale face bore the sharp, angular features of aristocratic lineage, and his silver-white hair was precisely trimmed.
Only his eyes betrayed his true nature—crimson and ancient, like rubies holding secrets from another age.
“The flock required additional attention tonight,” I replied, taking the seat he indicated across from him. “We have three new arrivals.”
“So I’ve been informed.” He made a small notation in the leather-bound book open before him.
His handwriting was perfect, each letter formed with the precision of someone who had learned his penmanship with a quill rather than a steel nib.
“Brother Vincent reports that the boy shows promise. The women he is less certain of.”
I suppressed a smile at the predictable assessment.
Where I saw souls to be saved, Desiderius saw resources to be evaluated and managed.
His cold, methodical approach had initially repelled me, but over time I had come to appreciate its effectiveness, if not its lack of compassion.
His monastery of male vampires, connected to my convent through these underground passages, operated with the rigid discipline of a military camp rather than the gentle guidance I preferred.
Different methods, same goal.
“They all deserve our patience,” I said. “The transition is never easy.”
He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging my point without conceding it.
“Patience is a luxury when indiscretion could destroy everything we have built.” His fingers, long and pale as candle tapers, traced the edge of his book.
“Two of my monks required discipline this week. They ventured into the Italian quarter and fed on a dockworker.”
My stomach clenched. “Did they kill?”
“No. They showed enough restraint to leave him alive, though not enough to resist feeding entirely.” His tone held neither approval nor censure, merely clinical assessment. “They have been confined to the meditation cells with reduced rations. Brother Isaiah oversees their penance.”
I nodded, knowing better than to question his methods openly.
Desiderius’ discipline was harsh but effective—the meditation cells were small stone rooms where offenders were locked with only a Bible and their thirst for company.
It was cruel, perhaps, but less cruel than the final death that awaited those who could not control themselves.
“Our blood supplies?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Sufficient, though increasingly difficult to maintain without arousing suspicion.” He closed his book carefully. “The new health regulations require more detailed record-keeping. Brother Anthony has been creating the necessary documentation, but it is... imperfect.”
“We could reduce consumption,” I suggested. “The older ones among us can sustain on less. I was not given the luxury of easing into the Eucharist at all, and at a certain point, it’s easier to endure the pain than continue to drag it on with more blood rations.”
“My thoughts precisely.” His eyes fixed on mine. “You look concerned, Sister Alice. More than these mundane matters would warrant.”
I hesitated, trying to organize my thoughts. Desiderius valued precision in communication as much as in all things.
“I’m concerned about the growing hostility toward immigrants,” I said finally.
“The war in Europe has stirred anti-German sentiment, but it’s spreading to affect all foreigners.
There have been incidents—vandalism at the synagogue on Orchard Street, a family from Romania forced from their apartment in the Bronx. ”
“And you fear this sentiment may eventually threaten our sanctuary.” It wasn’t a question.
“The convent relies on its anonymity and the general respect afforded to religious institutions,” I explained.
“However, the Catholic population has always been viewed with suspicion by the Protestant majority. It will not take much if they believe we’re aiding those aligned with foreign enemies.
Their suspicion of foreigners is often turned against those who harbor them. ..”
“They will look more closely at who comes and goes,” Desiderius finished, nodding slowly. “A valid concern, though not our most pressing one.”
He rose from his seat, moving with the deliberate economy of motion that characterized the truly ancient among our kind. No wasted gestures, no unnecessary flourishes. He approached a map of Manhattan pinned to the wall, its surface marked with small red pins.
“These represent confirmed sightings of individuals watching our various properties,” he said. “The convent, the monastery’s public entrance, the charity hospital Sister Josephine established, even the donation centers and hospitals that supply us.”
I rose to join him, studying the pattern of pins. They clustered around our locations like a rash, too numerous and too deliberately placed to be a coincidence.
“Any reason to suspect the Order is involved?”
“Perhaps. Or a new player.” Desiderius turned to face me, his expression grave. “Three nights ago, Brother Anthony was followed from the hospital. When confronted, the man—who wore a pin—claimed to be a health inspector. He carried papers that appeared authentic.”
From his pocket, Desiderius withdrew a sketch. “This is what Brother Anthony remembered.” The drawing depicted a pin fashioned in the shape of a rising sun with a cross at its center.
Not exactly the emblem of the Order of the Morning Dawn, but it bore a resemblance.
“If this is the Order, they’ve changed their symbol,” I murmured, holding the drawing he’d handed me with both hands. “It used to be a sword through the sun.”
“I pray it’s a coincidence,” Desiderius added. “Though the cross certainly betrays some religious significance. Not what you’d expect from a common health inspector.”
I returned the drawing to him, my mind racing through implications. “Have they made subsequent contact?”
“No, merely observation thus far.” He returned to his seat, his movements betraying no anxiety though I knew he must feel it. “I have instructed all brothers to travel in pairs and to vary their routes. I suggest you implement similar precautions with your sisters.”
“I will.” I paced the length of the chamber. “We should also accelerate the emergency preparations. If they know where we are—“
“They will move against us eventually,” Desiderius agreed.
“Though perhaps not immediately. If this organization is a part of the anti-immigrant sentiment that’s settled into the city at large, we may not be a priority.
But if it is the Order, and they suspect what we’re up to, let’s just say that the Order was never known for rash action.
They study, plan, and then strike with overwhelming force. ”
“I know their methods,” I said quietly. “I was their weapon once.”
“Which makes you an asset.” His voice held no comfort, only cold assessment. “Bishop Harkins must be informed. The human sisters may need to be relocated for their safety.”
I nodded, already drafting the letter in my mind. “And our newest arrivals will need accelerated training. They’re not ready for conflict.”
“Few ever are.” Desiderius returned the drawing to his bookshelf, slipped between two leather Bibles.
I moved toward the stairs, my mind already turning to the preparations needed above. “I should return to the convent. Sister Josephine will be waiting, and Constance needs attention before her hunger becomes unmanageable.”
Desiderius nodded dismissively, already absorbed in his books again. I paused at the foot of the stairs, a question burning in my mind.
“Do you ever wonder if we’re merely postponing the inevitable?” I asked. “If creatures like us truly can find redemption?”
He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “I do not wonder, Sister Alice. I know we cannot—not as the humans understand it. But perhaps in the striving itself, in the resistance against our nature, and in trusting in the love of our God, we will receive His grace in a unique way.”
It wasn’t the comfort I sought, but I hadn’t expected comfort from Desiderius. I began ascending the stairs, each step taking me back toward my flock, my responsibilities, and the gathering storm I could feel approaching.
Was the Order watching us? Had they found us again? Or was this a new threat, something more fitting the precarious times in which we were living? One way or another, I feared, my questions would find answers.