In Our Image: Bloodline

Chapter Seven

Vatican City Rome, on the outskirts of the security line in a small bar, a gathering is taking place. It is an unlikely place for a meeting that will involve such a high profile individual, but this also serves as a perfect cover. In truth this is not true; the real reason is that he will not come as summoned. He is defiant and answers to only himself and his acolytes, he is here because he wanted to drink.

The establishment is filled with the regulars, the salt of the earth kind of people that make the world turn but are faceless in the masses. The ones who will die forgotten save the bloodline they leave behind, the necessary expendables. Outside on the main road a convoy of three unmarked black sedans park just shy of the entrance. From the front and rear vehicle eight men dressed in black suits exit, three walk into the bar and the others stand outside in various positions around the middle car.

They scan constantly heads on a swivel, surveying and assessing the area and all possible threats as they mutter various clear codes into ear pieces. Inside, the three suited men approach the bartender who is also the owner, they whisper in his ear and hand him something that suspiciously looks like gold. His eyes widen and he walks over to the front door and begins turning off the neon lights.

He yells out to the patrons that the bar is closed; they grumble and shout but most respect him and leave. The few that linger either drunk or disobedient are encouraged by the strong frames of the security personnel in the suits. Finally the owner exits via the rear door into a connected upstairs apartment leaving the bar empty. It is empty of all except the three security personnel and a lone man sitting at a corner table of the bar.

He sits in the dim light and cigarette smoke filled area calmly drinking whiskey from a slightly dirty glass. He is dressed in dark cargo pants and a worn military style blouse with the sleeves rolled up revealing muscular arms. On the shoulder is the insignia of they who keep the secrets, the keepers of truth and order, the veterans of centuries of un-recorded battles. An order ancient beyond records and spoken in whispers even amongst shadow governments that officially don't exist.

The Sheppards are necessary, they are the thin veil that keeps the darkness at bay, or at least those that call the darkness home. Outside the clear signal is given and the middle sedan is surrounded by guards. The passenger door is open on each side and two robed men exit the vehicle. The doors are closed and the two men are escorted inside the bar.

They approach the table where the lone Sheppard sits still calmly drinking in silence. They stand before him in a moment of hesitation and pause as if waiting for something, finally one of the robed men speaks.

"Your insolence knows no bounds Caleb, will you not even stand to pay respects to His Holiness!"

It is quiet for a moment before Caleb responds, he sits forward a bit and slams his glass down on the table shattering it into fragments and with it the corner of the table in a display of otherworldly power. The two men cower and take a step back. Caleb leans forward into the light revealing blood red eyes, vampire's eyes and fangs. Through them a calm voice resonates, "You're just a symbol and pawn allowed to stay because we will it so. It would be child's play to dispatch the lot of you and have black smoke filling Vatican City by week's end to allow another to wear your cone. Say your words and leave me in peace."

The Arch Bishop furiously snaps back, "Blasphemous creature, I should have you dismembered; all parts salted and burned in the four corners of the earth!"

"Your last words are not poetic you fossile." Caleb replies drawing a blade from his boot.

The Holy Father raises a hand signaling to the guards with weapons already drawn to stand down; with them Caleb re-sheaths his weapon as well.

"Caleb how long have you been with us, how long have you been..."

The Holy Father is cut off by the vampire commander, "Longer than you have walked this earth fossil, enough idle words, what do you want?" Caleb spits with venom in his words.

His resentment for the church he serves has not gone unnoticed; it is just tolerated as his near flawless record precedes him. Caleb has scouted, trained, fought with and buried countless Sheppards over his long life on earth. He has given his entire existence to the church, even his very soul. Bitten by a vampire to curse him the very creature he sought to exterminate was the ultimate humiliation yet he used it to his advantage. Now able to meet the creatures in an even more one-sided fight he pits their own strength and speed against them.

The vampire who turned Caleb created a monster, a monster that hunts monsters. Had he left the Sheppard to die, Caleb's hunting days would have ended there, but instead he turned him into a creature like himself, creating a vengeful spawn that would now be able to spend several lifetimes hunting his kind and other ancient cursed beings in the name of the church and humanity. For balance, order and the saving grace of God, it is said that the Sheppards serve the church.

The silent assassins that force the vampires, werewolves, witches and other ancient cursed ones to live in the shadows so that humanity can reign supreme. Caleb is a veteran of countless battles across the earth, but the epidemic has left its scar on even him. He still operates efficiently and work has been plentiful the last seventeen years, making sure the sects and clans that fought in the final battle were forced back into the darkness. How many has he killed he does not know, how many of his brothers he lost in those fights... even more so.

It is because of this record that his disrespect and rudeness to his weaker more fragile superiors is tolerated, tolerated and respected... who else could fill his shoes.

The Holy Father nods understandingly and continues to business, "Very well commander, I take it you know of the murders, the slaughters worldwide."

Caleb stands up and walks behind the bar for another bottle of whiskey, he stands there and pours himself a glass before responding.

"I do, we have been monitoring the situation for a while."

"And... is this of no alarm to you commander?" The Arch Bishop asks concerned and annoyed.

Caleb nods, "It is, I have deployed teams to investigate but so far..." Caleb shakes his head side to side signaling he's found nothing.

He takes another drink, "We are spread thin, recruitment is low and assets are already working day and night."

"So what can you tell us about these horrific killings, is this even... our area?" The Holy Father asks.

Caleb shakes his head and laughs slightly between another drink of whiskey, "Oh yeah, this is our area alright. If it's one thing we can tell you it's that these poor bastards are being slaughtered by cursed ones. What we can't tell you is why."

"I don't understand, vampires and wolves kill for survival, these are just..." The Arch Bishop is cut off.

"For sport, exactly, they are not consumed; they are killed and ritualistically mauled. The symbols we sometimes find drawn in dirt or on bodies, or on objects near them hint at covens. The fang marks are vampires and the tearing and shredding is well..." Caleb is now interrupted.

"Werewolves." The Holy Father finishes.

Caleb takes yet another drink and nods in agreement.

"What you are suggesting is unheard of... You are suggesting that werewolf clans, vampire sects and covens are working in unison to kill humans. That they are not consuming them and not trying to hide bodies like they always had, that they want the bodies found?" The Arch Bishop replies in disbelief.

Caleb nods and raises his bottle to the robed man, "I see why you pay him the big bucks, he's a smart one." He says to the shocked pope.

It is quiet for a moment before The Holy Father speaks, "This is not possible, they hate each other with a passion we can't comprehend, it took near extinction for them to fight with us against the First Born and that was only for self preservation. You'd sooner find peace between the Palestinians and Israelites before you found the cursed ones in a pact. What could possibly warrant such an unholy alliance?" he asks more concerned and shaken.

Caleb shakes hishead, "I have been here all night asking myself that very question, I got a badfeeling in my gut that tells me soon... we're going to find out."