Chapter 21
Where monks had once broken bread in contemplative silence, military maps now sprawled across oak tables, their corners weighted down by spent shell casings as officers argued strategy and marked troop movements with sharp, decisive strokes of graphite.
The room’s vaulted ceiling had partially collapsed, allowing shafts of late afternoon sunlight to penetrate the gloom, forcing me to stand in the shadowed portions while Mercer paced freely through the dappled light, his immunity to daylight hours—a benefit of whatever bargain he’d struck with the military years ago—giving him yet another advantage in our ongoing dispute.
I pointed to the map of German positions spread before us, my finger tracing the treacherous terrain that separated our lines from theirs.
“This sector alone contains three machine gun nests,” I said, tapping locations marked with red flags. “Not to mention artillery placements. We need time to acclimate to the front lines, to understand the patterns of German patrols before attempting any major operations.”
Mercer’s boot crunched on debris as he moved to the opposite side of the table.
“Every day we wait gives them time to develop countermeasures,” he countered.
“The German High Command already suspects something unnatural is operating in this sector. Their uncertainty is our advantage—one that diminishes with each passing night.”
“And what good is that advantage if our flock is decimated in its first engagement?” I challenged.
“Thomas can barely control his hunger when presented with a minor injury. Rebecca still trembles when recounting our submarine mission. Despite a decade’s worth of progress, Ruth’s enthusiasm now borders on bloodlust. Rushing in blindly will only expose vulnerabilities that could destroy everything we’ve built. ”
“Built?” Mercer laughed without humor. “You’ve built nothing but a prison of restraint, Alice. These vampires possess abilities that could turn the tide of this war, yet you would have them creep about like penitents, afraid of their own shadows.”
His words struck a nerve I hadn’t realized was so exposed. “Is that what you believe? That my guidance has weakened them rather than strengthened them?”
“I believe your priorities are misplaced,” he replied, leaning over the map, his hands splayed across German territory like a conqueror claiming dominion. “This war presents an unprecedented opportunity for our kind—one we may never see again in our lifetimes.”
“An opportunity for what, exactly?” I asked, though some part of me already knew the answer.
Mercer straightened, his ancient eyes holding mine across the table.
The afternoon light caught his profile, illuminating the perfect stillness with which he held himself—a predator momentarily at rest. “Recognition. Acceptance. The chance to prove our worth not as monsters to be feared or pitied souls to be saved, but as valuable citizens deserving of rights and protections.”
The truth of his motivation crystallized between us, sharp and undeniable. “Military service in exchange for citizenship,” I said softly. “That’s what Gantry promised you, isn’t it? Not just for this war, but for your decades of service before it.”
“Why should we exist in the shadows?” Mercer demanded, passion finally breaking through his controlled exterior.
“Why should we beg for scraps of tolerance when we could earn respect through service? This is our chance to prove our worth. Military service could earn us recognition as citizens rather than monsters.”
I shook my head, unable to mask the coldness in my voice. “Redemption comes through faith, not government approval. Do you truly believe the same authorities that would use us as weapons wouldn’t discard us once our usefulness ends? Or worse, study us to create more effective means of destruction?”
Mercer’s jaw tightened. “Better to be studied as valuable assets than hunted as abominations.”
“If you believe that, you understand neither governments nor redemption,” I replied.
The tension between us had drawn the attention of others in the refectory. Desiderius approached from where he had been studying supply manifests, his steps deliberate, his expression carefully neutral.
“Perhaps there is a middle path,” he suggested. “Lieutenant Dupont mentioned a British patrol trapped behind German lines in Sector Four. Twelve men, cut off during the last advance, sheltered in an abandoned farmhouse. Too risky for a conventional rescue mission.”
Mercer’s interest visibly piqued. “A limited operation,” he mused. “Minimal engagement with enemy forces, maximum demonstration of our capabilities.”
“A practical test of our flock’s readiness,” Desiderius added, glancing toward me. “Without committing to a full offensive operation.”
I studied the map where Desiderius indicated.
The farmhouse lay in a shallow valley, surrounded by German positions but not directly occupied—likely deemed too exposed to hold.
The patrol had been trapped there for three days, according to the notes beside their position marker.
They would be low on supplies, possibly wounded.
“A rescue mission would align with our purpose,” I conceded reluctantly. “Saving lives rather than taking them.”
Mercer scratched the back of his head. “This is not what the General had in mind. His communication implied a full-scale assault on an enemy asset.”
I nodded. “That might be true. But that’s not a viable option. This mission would demonstrate compliance with the requirement for immediate action, and barring specific directives toward a target, it exhibits our desire to leverage our temporary advantage.”
Mercer paced, considering my argument. “If another order comes before our departure, we will have no recourse but to comply. I suspect he already has a mission in mind, even if we’ve yet to receive direct orders.”
I bit my lip. “Dr. Gallow should be kept from receiving any communications about this change of plans,” I said, my voice low but firm. “He reports directly to General Gantry, and I’ve noticed his... enthusiasm for casualties.”
Mercer’s eyes narrowed. “I can intercept any messages to Gallow,” he offered, his tone measured. “But understand this, Alice—if I do this, we follow whatever orders come next. No debate, no theological objections. Are we clear?”
I didn’t want to submit to an unknown future order, but the General still had leverage of the Bishop, and I sensed I’d spent what limited leverage I had. I held his gaze for a long moment before nodding once. “Agreed.”
“We would need a small team. Four, perhaps five vampires. Enough strength to overcome resistance, small enough to move undetected.”
“I’ll lead it,” I decided, surprising both men. “With Desiderius, Vincent, and Thomas.”
“Thomas?” Mercer’s eyebrows rose. “He’s untested, unstable.”
“And will remain so without practical experience,” I countered. “Better he face his first test of control under my direct supervision than in a larger engagement where I cannot watch him.”
Mercer studied me for a long moment before nodding his agreement. “Tonight, then. After sunset.”
The preparations consumed the remaining daylight hours.
As darkness fell, I gathered our small team in the chapel, where I had insisted we pray before departing.
Thomas knelt beside me, his youthful face solemn as he clutched his olive-wood rosary.
Vincent maintained a soldier’s posture even in prayer, spine straight, eyes forward, as though reporting for duty before the divine.
Desiderius stood slightly apart, his own devotions private but no less sincere.
I bowed my head and spoke the words that had sustained me since I became what I am: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
We moved through the abbey’s western gate like shadows separating from deeper darkness.
No man’s land stretched before us, a hellscape of shell craters, tangles of barbed wire, and the decaying remains of previous assaults.
The air carried the metallic tang of blood mixed with the chemical bite of gas and the earthy scent of churned soil.
In the distance, German flares occasionally illuminated the landscape, turning night briefly to ghostly day before plunging again into merciful darkness.
We traversed this nightmare terrain with preternatural speed and silence.
Where human soldiers would have struggled through mud and debris, we flowed like water, avoiding the obstacles that would have slowed mortal men.
Vincent took point, his military experience betrayed by his movements.
Desiderius guarded our right flank, Thomas our left, while I maintained our direction using the stars and Vincent’s occasional silent hand signals.
We encountered a German patrol once, freezing in perfect stillness as three soldiers passed within yards of our position.
I felt Thomas tense beside me, the scent of living humans—their blood pumping faster with their exertion and alertness—triggering his hunger.
My hand found his arm, grip tightening in warning and reassurance.
He closed his eyes, lips moving in silent prayer, and the moment passed.
The farmhouse appeared as a darker shape against the night horizon, its roof partially collapsed, walls pockmarked with bullet holes.
Vincent signaled for us to approach from separate directions, reducing the chance of detection.
I circled to the eastern wall, finding a narrow window through which I could slip.
Inside, the air hung heavy with the scents of blood and sweat.
“Hello?” I called softly in English. “We’re here to help.”
Movement in the darkness—the click of a rifle being aimed. “Who goes there?” a British voice demanded, strained with exhaustion and suspicion.
“Friends,” I answered. “We’ve been sent to bring you back to Allied lines.”