CHAPTER NINE

Kyle, flying over the hillsides of Umbria, dove in lower as he circled the small, medieval town of Assisi. He got a good glimpse of its medieval walls, of the huge church that dominated the village. In the sunset light, villagers were spread out below, lighting torches, herding their cattle, bringing their chickens and sheep inside. Everyone was hurrying to and fro, as if to prepare: this seemed like a town that feared the night.

Kyle smiled. He would give them a whole new reason to.

There were few things that Kyle enjoyed more than striking panic and fear into the hearts of commoners, in giving them new nightmares to dwell on for the rest of their lives. He hated this type of simple folk. They had persecuted his kind for as long as he could remember, and Kyle felt that it was long past due that they got a good thrashing themselves. Whenever he found the opportunity, he relished the chance.

Kyle dove lower, aiming right for the town square, not far from the church, hoping that his sudden and dramatic landing would stir up some activity, perhaps even flesh Caitlin out. If that despicable little girl was here, he wanted to waste no time in catching her. He was already itching to go back to the 21st century, to continuing his war, and to be done with this petty little distraction.

Of course, he had the Grand Council to answer to, and they wanted her alive. It was an annoyance, but a necessary one. He could play along, could capture her for now, just to appease them. But he would personally escort her back, and he would not leave until he personally watched her tortured and killed. In fact, he would quite enjoy that. But this time, he would leave nothing to chance. If they delayed, he would finish her off himself—with their approval or not.

As Kyle landed with a flurry in the town square, his black wings spread wide, sending a gust of wind that sent dogs yelping and chickens flying, villagers in every direction erupted into a scream. Old ladies crossed themselves, and young boys fled for their lives. It was as if a bomb had landed.

A few of the more courageous ones grabbed farming instruments and bore down on him. Kyle smiled. He loved these types. If they were his kind, he might even befriend them.

Kyle easily ducked as one of them swung his hoe clumsily at his head; then he reached up and, in one simple move, tore his head clean off his body.

Kyle delighted at the site of the gushing blood. He bent over and sank his teeth into what was left of the man’s throat, and drank greedily. He felt the blood rushing through his veins with a thrill. It was just the afternoon snack he needed.

The other two villagers, upon seeing this, literally froze in their tracks with fear, dropping their instruments. So much the easier for Kyle.

Kyle walked up and grabbed each by his throat, lifting them cleanly off the ground, and smashed them into each other with such force that he killed them on the spot.

Screams rang through the courtyard and the church bells tolled, as everyone fled to their homes, locking the doors and shuttering their windows.

A mob of a dozen men came running over the hilltop, all carrying farming instruments, screaming and charging right for Kyle. Kyle smiled. They still had not learned their lesson.

Kyle didn’t wait. He charged them himself, meeting them halfway, and as they swung at him, he suddenly leapt over the entire group, and landed behind them. Before they could react, he grabbed the closest one by the back of his head, grabbing his hair and lifting him off the ground. He swung him like a rag doll, and then threw him into the crowd. They went down like dominoes.

Before they could regain their feet, Kyle grabbed one of their sickles, and swung wildly. Using his vampire lightning speed, he attacked the flustered men as if they were a bale of hay. He chopped them to pieces.

Within moments, all of them were dead.

The village square now a blood-soaked battleground, Kyle stepped over the mangled bodies, and walked casually towards the church. As he did, he watched the doors get slammed and bolted. He smiled. He wondered why people always thought that bolting doors would make any difference.

Kyle leaned back and kicked in the huge church doors, knocking them off their hinges.

He strutted into the ancient church of Assisi, and headed right down the aisle. As he did, he tore up pew after pew, hurling them across the room, up high, into the windows, shattering the ancient stained-glass. He reached up and grabbed a huge candelabra and snapped it off its rope, and swung it over his head. When he let go, it went flying through the church, smashing the stained-glass windows on the far wall.

Kyle surveyed the destruction. It was beautiful. There were few things he enjoyed more than smashing up a church.

He sensed Caitlin’s presence. He followed his senses, and they led him down a corridor, down a flight of steps, and into the lower levels of the church. As he turned the final corner, he was surprised by what he saw.

Standing there was a small, silver haired priest, staring back at him. Kyle sensed immediately that this man was of his race. It surprised him to see him in a priest’s garb. What a sacrilege for his race.

“The girl you seek is long gone,” the priest said, unafraid. He stared at Kyle with courage, unwavering.

“And you’ll never find her,” he said.

Kyle smiled.

“Is that right?” he said.

Kyle took several steps towards him, but the man showed no sign of backing down. He was far braver—or dumber—than Kyle thought.

“You can overpower me,” the priest said, “but God overpowers you. You can kill me on this day, but God will surely kill you on another, and I will be avenged. Death holds no fear for me.”

“Who said anything about killing you?” Kyle asked, as he got closer. “That would be too kind. I think, instead, I’ll torture you slowly.”

“That makes little difference to me,” the man said. “No matter what you do, you will never find her.”

Kyle bore down on the man, just feet away, and leapt at him.

But the man surprised him. At the last second, the man reached back and threw a handful of holy ash right into Kyle’s eyes.

Kyle fell to the ground, stunned, his eyes burning. Holy ash. A sneaky trick. It hurt like hell; he hadn’t had it in his eyes for centuries.

“I renounce you in the name of Satan,” the man said. “Let this holy ash destroy you, and let it send you back to the place from which you came.”

He threw down handful after handful of ash onto Kyle’s head.

But Kyle suddenly regained his strength and charged the man, tackling him hard, sending him to the ground.

On top of him, Kyle grabbed his throat, and squeezed.

The man stared back with eyes opened wide, clearly in shock.

“Stupid man,” Kyle spat. “Holy ash can only kill the weak of our race. I developed immunity hundreds of years ago.”

The man struggled for breath, as Kyle squeezed.

Kyle grinned wider.

“And now, it’s my turn,” Kyle said. “You and I are going to get to know each other. Very, very well.”