Buried so deep within the rooms of the church, no sound could reach her ears. The rooms were often void of light, with the winter days growing shorter by the week and the constant cover of clouds leaving any glimpse of brightness a gloomy grey. A thick fog hung in the air too, blackened by the candles that constantly burned through each day and each night, failing to warm the dark chill that clung to the stone walls.
The church was not a place Simran could imagine ever wanting to visit. She'd remained beneath its roof for a night and a day and had yet to see another face. Even Reverend Enoch and his son had been notably absent from the halls, though she did not have to speculate why. Her inspection would come later when the darkness of day eventually lead into the impossible gloom of night and all those she had to fear would be asleep.
But for what time she had to herself, Simran found herself roaming through the church, fingers still clutching the leather binding of a bible. She wondered why it didn't burn her like many threatened it would. Reverend Enoch had been pleased when she'd taken the book from him easily and Simran had suspected it to be a test of some sort. She'd held onto it for the remainder of the day, reminding herself that the test had been passed.
There were spirits in these halls, their presence bound by the relics that hid on stone pillars and old, rotten bookcases. She wondered too if these ghosts may protect her better than the humans could. The vampires would reach her soon enough. It would not be long before their temporary hoards would overrun the church, seeking her blood. But by then she hoped her knowledge of the cruel creatures would be proven wrong. Perhaps within these holy walls, there would be an answer to the never-ending hunt. A solution on how to kill the vampires that lusted for her blood.
For if anyone was going to figure it out, it would be one who held the sweetest blood of them all. A witch. She didn't much like that name though. It didn't feel right. There were many such titles that were falsely given to her from all different cultures. But it was witch, that the Reverend might've feared her to be, there in the outskirts of London.
"I hope you're well and rested."
For the first time in years, Simran startled, her fingers slipping from the bible, letting it topple to the ground. The Reverend only smiled and leaned down to retrieve it, handing it over once more.
"I've never slept so well," she said after a moment. The moment of quietness didn't seem to bother Enoch.
"The soul can rest peacefully within these walls," the Reverend said and Simran nodded in understanding. "I'm sure you can imagine what it is I've come to speak with you about."
