Page 52 of Of Faith and Fangs

“Our Boston chapter has been cultivating their own brood for nearly a decade,” Desiderius said, his long fingers tapping a rhythm against a leather-bound tome. Apparently, I wasn’t even the first Nightwalker in America. “We require skilled lieutenants, not frightened girls playing at redemption.”

My gaze shifted to the shadows behind him. There stood three figures, still as statues—two men and a woman, all with the same predatory stillness that marked them as Nightwalkers. But unlike my newly-turned sisters in the other room, these vampires radiated confidence and lethal grace.

“Alice Bladewell has proven herself dedicated to our cause,” Silas countered. “She successfully neutralized five practitioners in as many weeks.”

“And then you turned them,” Desiderius observed coolly. “Creating untested variables.”

“Opportunity presented itself.”

I dug my nails into my palms. Opportunity. That’s what we were to them. Convenient tools. The Order hadn’t rescued me from Mercy Brown’s attack—they had probably orchestrated it, just as they had orchestrated the “witch hunt” that led me to condemn innocents.

“The girl possesses profound Puritan faith,” Silas continued. “Her father was a respected reverend. Her dedication to scripture is unmatched. She’s precisely the kind of vampire easily won over to our cause.”

Desiderius made a throaty sound, almost a laugh, but restrained. “You misunderstand the transformation, my friend. The turning doesn’t merely change the body—it alters how one perceives faith itself.” He moved to a table where a map lay spread, Boston and its surroundings marked with red crosses. “The very concepts of salvation and damnation shift when one becomes immortal.”

“Which is precisely why we must eliminate outside influences,” Silas insisted. “Particularly this Papist priest.”

“Ah yes, Father O’Malley.” Desiderius pronounced the name with delicate distaste. “Your report mentioned he aids vampires.”

“He offers false comfort to the monsters, promises of salvation through sacraments rather than service to our cause.” Silas’s voice hardened. “If my new Nightwalkers encounter him too soon, he could threaten our larger mission.”

“And you believe your girl—this Alice—might be swayed by him?”

Silas hesitated. “She’s... compassionate. She loves God and has complied with most of my orders. Still, she hesitates. It’s that kind of lingering sense of goodness from her former humanity that might make an alternative path appealing. The Nightwalkers must believe that there’s only one way to save their souls—through obedience to our cause, by eliminating more evil from this world than they themselves represent.”

One of the shadow figures behind Desiderius stepped forward—the woman, her movements liquid and precise. “Compassion is a luxury of the living.”

“Indeed,” Desiderius agreed. “This is why my brood will handle the priest and his church. St. Mary’s will be cleansed by dawn, while your younglings focus on the supposed coven in Dorchester.”

Silas gasped, but it was clearly sarcastic. “You question my judgment?”

Desiderius narrowed his eyes. “You’ve condemned people on less, Silas. Your methods aren’t endorsed by all of us. Still, you remain in good standing with the rest of the Order, and I’ve committed myself to assisting you in this matter. I can understand why you’d hesitate exposing your vulnerable infant Nightwalkers to the likes of the priest.”

“The timing is fortuitous,” Silas nodded. “The church will be mostly empty at that hour. While I have no love lost for Papists, I also would prefer to avoid an all out war with them.”

“All will be ash by morning,” Desiderius assured him.

Something shifted in Desiderius’s posture then—a sudden stillness that reminded me of a predator catching an unexpected scent. His head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring.

“We are not alone,” he said softly.

I froze, hardly daring to breathe. My fasting state had masked my presence thus far, but Desiderius was older, stronger. His senses would be beyond even my understanding.

“The basement contains only our Nightwalkers,” Silas replied. “Securely held.”

Desiderius moved toward the door with inhuman speed. “Are you certain of that?”

I retreated silently, pressing myself into an alcove where the shadows lay thickest. My mind raced with calculations—I couldn’t return to the others without revealing the passage I’d discovered, but remaining meant certain discovery.

“Perhaps it’s merely hunger making you uneasy, old friend,” Silas suggested. “You’ve traveled far..”

Desiderius paused, his hand on the door latch. For one terrible moment, I thought he would step through and find me. Then he turned, amber eyes scanning the room once more.

“Perhaps,” he conceded.

“Your caution is why the Order values your counsel,” Silas said smoothly. “Now, shall we discuss the particulars of tomorrow night’s operations?”

As they returned to their plotting, I slipped away, each step a prayer for silence. My mind burned with revelations and betrayal. The Order hadn’t saved me—they had used me. They hadn’t made me a Nightwalker to fight evil—they had created me to be their weapon against innocents.

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