Insatiable
Chapter 3 - Grim Tidings
"You
do
know what the word
retired
means, don't you Padre?"
Viktor removed his black, flat brimmed drifter hat and set it on the coffee table. He watched the priest bend down and fill two mugs with hot tea. He hadn't expected to see Father Enjami again so soon. It'd been just under two years since Viktor completed his service to the Holy See. The old man pouring their drinks had been a steward to him in the early days, before Viktor climbed the ranks and became one of the church's most prolific hunters. Now he found himself in the clergyman's humble quarters, meeting on an unspecified matter of urgent business.
Father Enjami righted himself and exhaled a dry laugh. "I haven't even said anything yet."
"You don't need to" Viktor replied as he watched him stroll back to the kitchen and set the teapot aside. "It's written on your face. Who died this time?"
From a glance, Viktor was a creature seemingly composed of leather; a middle aged man of uncommon height at 6'2 with striking, stony features. His torso and upper thighs were wrapped in a long, black duster coat. A thick leather belt with shiny metal buckles marked where his stylish gray vest ended and his matching dress pants took over. At the v-neck opening of the vest, a white button-down shirt was revealed with a sleek, black tie gliding down its center.
Even his face had a leathery appearance. It was a creased mass of rough skin, toughened by years of exposure to the elements. Remarkably, he bore only a few light scars on his face and arms after all his encounters with the thirsty fiends of the night. His eyes were light blue orbs that gleamed in stark contrast to his tintless garb. A day's worth of black stubble marked his chin and shaved head.
Normally, Viktor would be wearing leather chaps, a chest and torso guard along with about fifteen different weapons strapped to his back, belt and limbs. On the really dangerous missions, he'd even wear a chainmail top or some other form of neck guard to prevent the biters from sneaking up and sinking in their fangs before he could react.
He was diligent, careful and skilled; all reasons he'd lived long enough to retire with a long list of prominent kills to his name. Viktor was, perhaps, the most hated human among the Chosen in this corner of the world, but the ones that knew of him had typically only heard his name in whispers. Very few biters had seen the man and lived to speak of him.
"We don't know if they're dead, but we got two missing in action." Father Enjami folded his arms over his chest solemnly as he walked back into the living room. "Reynauld and a young woman named Rosa who joined us not long ago. They were looking for a nest. Seems they found a big one. I'm guessing they're either dead or turned."
"Most likely" Viktor replied with a nod. "Where's the nest?"
The grandfatherly priest uncrossed his arms and walked to his desk. Viktor studied him as he shuffled through some papers. Enjami looked remarkably well for a man in his early seventies, but half a head of white hair and the veiny wrinkles below the eyes gave his age away. The thin priest wore the traditional black top, pants and shoes of his order, along with the signature white collar. His brown eyes sparkled with warmth and a quick-wittedness that belied his age.
Enjami resurfaced from the desk holding a printout. He strode to Viktor and handed him the flyer he'd downloaded and printed from the web.
"The Scarlet Sanctum" Viktor read from it. "Tumwater, Washington. A biter sex club, huh? Those are always fun. To raid, I mean."
"Not so much for Reynauld, apparently."
"You sent him to do this with a rookie?" Viktor asked incredulously before tossing it on the table.
"You know how things are. Never enough agents. We're starved for resources. The church's numbers dwindle along with its coffers. This war is not going well."
"Pffft,
war
!" Viktor took a long drink from his mug before setting it back down. "If there's still a war going on it's a cold one. And it's going to end the same way for us as it did for the Russkies. Total collapse, eventually."
"It's true, the Chosen have grown smarter under their new leadership. Their tactics have evolved. They're blending in better than they ever have. Sticking to the shadows and waiting us out."
"Right. There's no hot war anymore. That's why I retired."
"And how's that going for you?" Father Enjami asked with a knowing smile.
"Great!" Viktor exclaimed with a shrug and an unconvincing smirk. "I watch sports. I play cards. I visit family here and there. Been down to Pismo a few times..."
"Don't act like you don't miss it."
"Miss what? Almost getting killed or turned into a monster? Getting paid peanuts while the church denies my work even exists? Nah, can't say I miss that too much."
Father Enjami settled into the chair on the other side of the coffee table. A twinkle entered his eyes as his gaze settled on the hunter across from him. "You're not fooling anyone, Viktor. I can see you've stayed in shape. The clothes you're wearing are no tourist's. Why go to the trouble if you're not prepared to head back into the field?"
"I came prepared because an old friend asked me to, but I'm still waiting to hear a good reason why I should."
"Is an old friend asking not a good enough reason?"
The hunter sighed and leaned back into the sofa.
"Viktor, please... I need to know what happened to them. If it was an operation too big for Reynauld to take down, then-"
"There's someone pretty powerful, there" Viktor finished his sentence.
Enjami pointed at the flyer on the table. "The owner of this establishment, Ms. Ruthven, is almost definitely a matriarch. Possibly an ancient."
"An ancient, huh?"
Sparks of anticipation lit up Viktor's eyes. An old fire was rekindled in the deepest part of his psyche. The siren song of a worthy foe called out to him. He studied the advertisement for the fetish den of sex and sin with renewed interest, saying nothing for a few moments.
"Alright, Padre. I'll investigate, on one condition."
"Name it, my son."
"You're going to put in a formal request to the cheapskates at the Vatican for more funding and manpower. If the diocese is denied, you'll retire as well, and we'll go down to Pismo Beach and have a few drinks after I stake these fucks."