By The Light of Day

A calm, salty breeze blew off the Black Sea and rustled the trees. The brisk night air barely moved a single finely groomed blonde hair on Tomas’ head as he walked around the hotel pool. Behind him, the lights of the ten-story luxury hotel blazed into the night, but the pool area was dimly lit, illuminated only by the green glow of the pool lights.

In the shadows, he could hear Bulgarian businessmen chatting with scantily clad women in hushed tones as they snorted cocaine and exchanged room keys. To his right, bikini-clad women frolicked in the pool, laughing and giggling as men watched them from the darkness hungrily. None of these things interested Tomas; he focused all his attention on the dark-haired man in the midnight blue button-down who sat sipping a martini at one of the poolside tables. Twins, two hulking bald men in black suits and matching turtlenecks that seemed to strain to contain the sinews of their thick, muscular necks, flanked the man.

The twins watched Tomas with deep-set beady eyes as he approached, taking in the expensive cut of his dark burgundy suit. He wondered what these men would have thought had they seen him in the days when he had dirt under his nails from working in the fields all day. However, that was long ago.

Tomas walked up to the table and gestured to a nearby white-clad waiter for a double espresso, and the without seeking permission, slid out the iron chair across from the man and sat down. In unison, the twins rose a little in their seats, tree branch thick arms resting on the table as they emotionlessly prepared to pounce on the newcomer if necessary.

“Do I know you?” the man raised an eyebrow and casually took a sip from his martini, the skewered olive barely moving as the man drank. “You acquire things Mr. Pistorius,” Tomas was proud of how his practiced urban accent vanquished the harsher Bulgarian farm boy lilt he had grown up speaking. “I procure things for men who need to acquire something special.” “Special is hard to come by.” “Special is why I charge the fees that I do.” “Interesting, “the man crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. The gesture appeared to make the twins visibly relax their posture a bit. “Do you know who I work for?”

“You work for the Bish…,” Tomas began, but the man raised his hand dismissively, and Tomas bristled at making such a foolish faux pas. “There’s no need for names. A simple yes will suffice.” “Yes, I know who you work for.” Tomas nodded thank you to the waiter as the man placed the small cup of espresso before him. He could feel Pistorius’ appraising gaze on him as he sipped the hot beverage. Tomas took his time tasting the bitter drink and then placed the ceramic mug back on the table to regain a little control of the conversation. “What I have will be more to the liking of your employer,” Tomas gestured dismissively towards the pool. “Then what the current availability offers.” Pistorius seemed to think on this for a moment. “You do understand that my employer purchases. He does not rent. There is no return.” “I am well aware of your employer’s requirements.” “And how is that?” Pistorius’ gaze turned hawkish. “How is it that you come to know so much about what is secret?”

“Because I am very good at what I do. Because all of my clients value my…” Tomas paused as if searching for the correct phrase. “My discretion.” Pistorius nodded appreciatively, never taking his eyes from Tomas. “Show me what you have.” Tomas reached into the inner pocket of his suit and slid an envelope into the middle of the table. One of the twins picked it up and handed it to Pistorius. He gave Tomas one last gaze before opening the envelope and glancing at the picture. Tomas smirked as Pistorius raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Young. Pretty,” Pistorius closed the envelope and handed it to one of the twins who secreted it inside his black jacket. “She is clean, I presume?” “Yes, she has been tested.” “We will do our own tests as well. My employer insists.” “But of course,” Tomas took a long sip of expresso. “Where is she from? Roma women are not acceptable.” “She comes from a small farming village. She is Bulgarian. Her people will not ask after her or look for her.” “Good. Good,” Pistorius nodded thoughtfully. “The number in the envelope is the price?” “Yes. It is non-negotiable.” “You understand that the price pays for her silence and yours.” “As I said,” Tomas finished the espresso and put the cup down. “My clients trust and value my discretion.” “Let us hope for your sake that that trust is not misplaced.” “My number is in the envelope,” Tomas stood up and deposited a large bill on the table, enough to cover the espresso and several rounds of drinks. “Have one of your people arrange payment and delivery location.” Pistorius nodded, and Tomas walked casually back toward the hotel. His gait implied a confident man without a care in the world, but internally Tomas felt his insides finally begin to unknot.

Katerina stood alongside Tomas in the parking lot and self-consciously ran a hand down her short, olive-colored dress to smooth out unseen wrinkles. “Stop fidgeting; you look fine,” Tomas was watching a pair of approaching headlights with quiet intensity. “The dress is too short,” Katerina felt goosebumps run down her thigh to her knee. “My legs are cold.” “It’s fine. This is them,” Tomas put a hand on her arm as the long dark limousine rolled to a halt in front of them.

Katerina looked at her reflection in the dark, opaque windows of the limo. Her blonde hair was cut short into a bob that she felt made her look even younger than her eighteen years. Tomas had told her they would like her better this way as he took the pictures of her. She wore little makeup, just some eyeliner to accentuate her dark eyes. Tomas had warned her that makeup would make her look older, which is not what they wanted. The rear passenger window of the limo rolled slowly downwards, and Pistorius leaned forward to glance up at them. His dark hair slicked back, and he wore a blue suit with a matching tie. He nodded up at Tomas and then looked Katerina up and down. “You do good work, Tomas,” Pistorius’ face looked smug with the wicked smirk he bore. “If the rest of the deal goes as well, then we may be doing a lot of business in the future.” “I look forward to seeing you again, Mr. Pistorius,” Tomas smiled down at the man and eased Katerina forward as one of the twins exited the front passenger seat and opened the rear door. The bald man gestured for Katerina to enter and placed a meaty hand on her arm. Katerina hesitated for a moment, but Tomas gave her a reassuring smile.

She stepped towards the limousine and bent over to peer inside. The backseat had two rows of seats that faced each other: Pistorius and a thin, bald be-speckled man with a satchel on the floor between his legs. The man had a pinched, unpleasant face and his gray suit looked of a cheaper material than Pistorius’ finery. Katerina slid into the row of seats facing the men, and the door closed behind her. As the limo turned and sped out of the parking lot, she glanced a last look at Tomas as he watched them leave. His face was resolute but expressionless. “Katerina,” Pistorius inhaled as he lit a cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke in her direction, and then gestured to the man alongside him. “This is Doctor Radev; he is going to check you.” The bald doctor reached into the satchel and withdrew an electric thermometer. Katerina did not like how Radev put his hand on her leg as he leaned forward to swipe the thermometer across her forehead. Nevertheless, Tomas warned her about this part, and she knew it would worsen. The doctor leaned back, looked at the reading, and then nodded to Pistorius. “Good,” Pistorius gave Katerina a lupine grin. “The doctor has one more test to perform, though this will be more…invasive. We need to make sure you are not carrying any diseases.” The doctor withdrew a long thin wooden handled Q-tip and indicated for her to open her mouth. Again, his hand slid onto her leg as he leaned forward and swabbed the inside of her cheek. The man stared intently at her as he ran the Q-tip end over her gums and cheek, but she could see Pistorius’ eyes running up and down her body lasciviously. The doctor withdrew the Q-Tip from her mouth, leaving her gums feeling dry and cottony, and dipped it into a small vial. The clear solution in the vial turned a light pink as he swirled the Q-tip around. “She is clean,” the doctor again nodded to Pistorius before sealing the vial and returning everything to his satchel. “What did Tomas tell you about this evening?” Pistorius’ tone was cold and inquisitive. “He just told me I would be spending time with an important and powerful man,” Katerina infused her voice with a humility that was not commonplace for her. “You will spend time with Bishop Grigori; he maintains a summer home here in Golden Sands. The Black Sea air is good for his joints; he has arthritis.” “Arthritis,” Katerina’s eyes opened wide. “Is he a very old man?” “No, he is barely older than me,” Pistorius chuckled mirthlessly. “He fought many battles in his youth; the arthritis is just a symptom of the toll it took on his body.” “Is he a war hero?” “In a manner of speaking,” Pistorius took another long drag of his cigarette. “He is one of the Church’s most successful vampire hunters in all of Bulgaria.” “Vampires?” Katerina let out a girlish laugh. “Now I know you’re teasing me.” “It is no gest, girl,” the doctor said harshly in a thick Bulgarian accent. “Bishop Grigori has scourged the land of vampires. He is a great man. You should feel honored to be here tonight.” “I’m sorry,” Katerina cast her eyes down to her feet, staring at the red nail polish on her toes. “I meant no disrespect.” “Forgive Doctor Radev,” Pistorius placed a warm hand on the exposed skin of her knee. “Those of us who work with the Bishop are very passionate about our work. You must understand when you work so close to true evil; the toll can be very heavy upon even great men. The strain that the Lord’s work requires of us magnifies even the basest desires and appetites.” “I…I think I understand,” Katerina’s voice sounded small and distant in her ears.

“Our work requires us to sacrifice a part of our humanity to carry out the mission God has called us to fulfill. In return, we require sacrifice from others to provide us relief from the constant storm of waging holy war.” Bedside him, the doctor was nodding his head emphatically. Katerina did not like the look of hunger and fanaticism in their eyes. They looked like lions watching a gazelle.

When the limousine finally stopped, they all exited into the circular driveway of a two-story mansion in a remote area north of Golden Sands, overlooking the crashing waves of the Black Sea. A full moon hung high in the sky and elongated their shadows to the peaks of the house. Pistorius and the doctor entered the house in front of her through an ornate wooden door carved with the likeness of innocent pudgy-faced cherubs. Behind her, the two bald twins stalked like lumbering giants.

The mansion’s inside was immense, with high cathedral ceilings decorated with intricately painted Biblical scenes. On the walls hung pictures of various Bulgarian saints, some she recognized from books she read as a child. A massive crystal chandelier that hung in the center of the ceiling lighted the room; Katerina gaped at its size. The chandelier was easily the size of a small car with hundreds of crystals that hung down like rain and reflected the light.

A winding staircase wound up to the second floor, and the high sheen of the polished wooden stairs, spindles, and banister reflected the chandelier’s light. With a wave of his hand, Pistorius gestured for Katerina to head up the stairs. “The bishop’s study is the first door on the right.” The four men watched her walk to the staircase, the echoes of her footfalls the only sound in the house. “Is there anyone else here?” She turned back to look at them. “All the servants have been sent away for the night,” Pistorius’ lupine smile had returned, and Katerina felt disquieted by the feral stares of the others as she slowly walked up the long winding staircase. She watched as the men’s gaze followed her as the stairway wound its way upward. “You don’t want to keep the bishop waiting,” Pistorius made a move-along gesture with his hands to encourage her to increase her pace. “We’ll be right here.” Katerina did not like how a malevolent smile crossed the twins’ faces at Pistorius’ words.

At the top of the stairs was a thick wooden door of rich dark color. It was easily ten feet tall and bore a detailed carving of St Michael with his wings outstretched, plunging his sword into the Devil. Katerina had seen depictions of dragon-shaped Devils, but in this carving, the Devil bore the form of a horned man. She leaned her face closer and could see that the mouth of the Devil was open to reveal two large fangs. She hesitated a moment before knocking on the door, then a creaking on the stairs caught her attention, and she turned. Pistorius and the others had stopped on the staircase and peered at her, a carnal hunger in their eyes. Katerina turned back and knocked twice on the door.

“Come in,” the voice on the other side of the door was deep and calm. She opened the door and slipped into the warmly lit room, glancing back one last time at the four men on the stairs before closing the door behind her. The room inside was a large study with three plush red antique Victorian-styled couches situated around a sizeable fireplace. The thick blazing logs, each as long as a man’s arm, crackled and burned, casting a warm glow throughout the room. Two windowed French doors led out to an expansive balcony; in the moonlight, she could make out the shape of a tall wooden structure. Bookcases lined the back wall of the study, filled with expensive-looking old tomes that covered the wall except for a wooden door with a golden doorknob that caught the light of the fireplace and reflected shards of light onto the high ceiling. Directly in front of the door was a large teakwood desk with sprawling tree limbs carved into the front.

Seated at the desk was a heavyset man in an expensive red robe with gold stitching. He ran a hand through his thinning dark hair and looked up from his reading as she entered. A wide, friendly smile crossed his face. “My child, so good to see you,” he opened one of the lower desk drawers and withdrew a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Uh, hello, I’m Katerina.” “Of course you are; I am Bishop Grigori,” he poured the deep red wine into both glasses. “Please come closer.” Katerina walked hesitantly towards the desk as he stood and picked up the glasses of wine, extending his hand with one for her. “Thank you,” she took the glass but looked away from his intense, appraising stare. “You are such a pretty little thing,” he reached a hand up and brushed some of her blonde hair from her face. She flinched and stepped back. “Oh, there’s no need for that; we’re all friends here. Come try your wine.” She brought the glass up to her lips and then hesitated. He looked at her and chuckled, a deep rumbling sound, and took a sip of his wine. “I’ll drink first; see nothing in it but wine.” Katerina smiled weakly at him and took a sip; the wine had a smooth berry flavor that she had to admit was excellent. She glanced at the desk and caught sight of the book the Bishop was reading, and the page was open to a detailed drawing of a mouth with elongated fangs. He noticed her eyes looking towards the book and cocked his head with mild interest. “Is it true that you kill vampires?” Katerina returned her gaze to him. “Oh yes,” he beamed with pride and placed a hand on his ample belly. “I have hunted vampires since I was a parish priest in the countryside. They seemed to like Bulgaria for a time, and you know they’d love to take a sweet little thing like you and do terrible things to you before you died.” “It must be terrifying work,” She opened her eyes wide in wonder. “Are they hard to kill?” “Oh yes, they put up a terrible fight. You must fight past their claws and fangs to drive a stake into their black hearts. It is very dangerous work. Only through the light of our Lord and Savior do we prevail.” “It sounds like a horrible nightmare,” Katerina shuddered and took another sip of the wine, which brought a smile to the Bishop’s lips. “It is for the good of humanity that we take on this burden,” he ran a hand up her arm to her shoulder. “Blessed be those who bring us comfort.” Katerina took another step back and slid her shoulder away from his touch. He only smiled at her and took a deep drink of his wine, finishing the contents and then pouring himself another glass. “Can I show you something?” the Bishop walked over towards the French doors and beckoned her to follow. She hesitated momentarily and followed him out the doors onto the moonlit balcony. The air was chill, and she could hear the lapping shores of the Black Sea. The balcony was square-shaped and large enough to comfortably accommodate at least thirty people. She could see now that the wooden structure was an inverted cross, perhaps ten feet high. “If we are lucky enough to capture a vampire alive,” Bishop Grigori gestured to the inverted cross. “We crucify them upside down in the late hours of the evening. When the first light of the Lord’s sunrise strikes them, they hiss and burn. Their skin burns away and then their flesh until their bones turn to ash. Their screams are music to the Lord’s ears.” “That must be a terrible way to die,” a look of horror crossed Katerina’s face. The Bishop laughed heartily, “I certainly hope so.” “Why do you hate them so much?” “Child, they are an abomination to God,” a look of fervor filled the Bishop’s eyes. “Even the young ones are spawns of Satan himself.” “Young ones?” She looked aghast. “You do this to children?” “Girl, I have driven a stake through the heart of a vampiress as its baby suckled at its chest and then threw the screaming whelp into the sunlight to burn like a dried leaf.” “That’s monstrous! Where does it say in the Bible to do such things?” “You speak of them as if they are people. They are the offspring of the Devil. That which is not of Christ is the enemy of Christ.” She shook her head in disbelief at the Bishop’s cruelty and backed away from him. “You blaspheme by questioning my methods,” a sneer crossed his face as he stepped closer to her and grabbed her roughly by the arm. “I’m tired of these niceties.” “You’re hurting me!” Katerina tried to wriggle free of his grip, dropping the glass of wine that shattered on the stone balcony, but his hands only closed tighter around her arm. He threw his glass of wine to smash against the inverted cross and pulled her close to his face. “You don’t know what pain is. Not yet.” The Bishop dragged her back into the study just as Pistorius and the others entered the room, closing the door behind them. They smiled wickedly as the Bishop pulled her across the room; her struggles to free herself from his grasp elicited malicious laughter from them. “Get the door,” the Bishop ordered, and one of the twins opened the door behind the desk. Katerina banged into the desk, spilling the bottle of wine onto the books sprawled on the desktop. The Bishop cursed as the red liquid spilled over the priceless books, and he barked at the hulking twin to clean it up before the wine ruined the pages. Bishop Grigori roughly tossed Katerina through the open door, causing her to stumble and sprawl on the cold tiled floor. He stepped into the room behind her and slammed the door closed. He was breathing heavily from the exertion, and he looked at her with an angry snarl on his face as he locked the door. Katerina realized this was the Bishop’s bedroom and a large four-post bed faced four large, heavily curtained windows that looked out over the Black Sea. He saw her look towards the windows and smiled evilly. “It’s a straight drop down,” he laughed. “How can you do this? You’re a bishop” She looked up at him as he stepped closer to her. “I can do this precisely because I am a bishop.” “It’s a sin.” “Matthew 15:11, Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man,” the Bishop stepped in front of her and dropped his robe, revealing the soft naked rolls of his body. The Bishop leaned his head back and smiled as he felt her hands on his bare legs. His eyes opened wide, and he screamed as a sharp burning pain shot up his legs and roiled his insides. He staggered back and fell onto the bed as blood poured down his leg in long streaks. The Bishop’s hand went to the wound and looked at Katerina in horror as he felt two round holes against his femoral artery, pumping out his lifeblood. Katerina stood up and wiped her mouth as her eyes blazed and blood dripped from her two fangs. The Bishop’s screams became a strangled cry as he began to shiver and shake. “Bishop, I remember the day you broke into my house and killed my family. You dragged their bodies outside to burn in the sun. You were just a village priest then.” The Bishop looked towards the door as a heavy banging began, but Katerina shrugged indifferently. “You were the monster we all feared. All the children knew that Father Grigori could come and kill them in their sleep. I would be terrified to go to sleep at night. I had sleepless nights worrying that you would come to kill me, kill my family. And then you did.” The Bishop began to shake violently, eyes becoming bloodshot. “That’s the vampirism taking hold in your system,” Katerina glanced toward the banging on the door as the frame began to crack and laughed. “What will your friends do when they find you like this? A vampire.” “We hunted you for a long time. All those young girls you made disappear and blamed on vampires were like breadcrumbs right to your door.” The Bishop reached toward the door as the frame gave way, and the door swung open with a crash. “Help me,” his voice was a harsh croak, and his body shook violently as a slow transformation process crept through his body. “Hello, Kat,” blood and gore spattered Tomas’ face and suit as he strode through the broken doorway. In his hand, he dragged a bleeding Pistorius by the collar. The man shook and spasmed as he too underwent his transformation into a vampire. “My sister was Tomas’ betrothed,” Katerina smiled at Tomas, his fangs dripping with blood. “Shall we get started?” Tomas sent the writhing Pistorius sprawling across the floor. “Oh, yes.” Katerina grinned widely.

Gorgi arrived early at the Bishop’s house, the cook was grateful for the previous night off, but he knew Bishop Grigori would expect his breakfast ready on time. The first rays of the morning sun were breaking over the Black Sea as he unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened house. That is when he heard the screaming begin. “Bishop Grigori?” Gorgi called up the staircase as the screaming increased in volume and duration.

The cook, a veteran of the Bulgarian Army, began to run up the stairs as the shrill screams filled the house. He did not hesitate to run through the study’s open door, stopping only when he saw the carnage inside. The twins lay broken in the center of the room, their heads twisted at an odd angle. Their matching, unseeing eyes stared up at the ceiling. He gasped when he saw the body of Doctor Radev seated up against the wall, his throat torn out, and two long wooden Q-tips thrust deep into his eyes. Above his head, the word “unclean” was scrawled in blood. The smell of burning flesh wafted in from the open balcony doors and filled the room. Gorgi cautiously peered around the corner of the French door and recoiled in horror. Pistorius hung crucified upside down on the balcony, his body writhing as the skin of his face burned away, the flesh beneath glowing red like hot coal.

Gorgi tugged on one of the curtains, putting all his strength into it until the thick wooden curtain rod snapped, and the thick fabric fell to the floor. Pistorius’ screaming faded to a thrumming noise from his throat as the cook ran over and draped the body in the curtain, his hands feverishly beating at the curtain to extinguish the flames beneath. Once he thought he got the fire out, Gorgi pulled the curtain off of Pistorius, and a puff of dark sooty ash exploded outward, Pistorius’ body wholly incinerated.

The cook’s mind struggled to comprehend what had happened in the house overnight when he heard a faint whimpering noise. He stopped and strained his ears to listen. “Bishop Grigori?” the cook cautiously went back into the room, pausing every few steps to listen for the sound. Stepping over one of the fallen twins, Gorgi was sure he heard the noise coming from the Bishop’s bedroom. “Bishop Grigori, I am coming,” the cook leaped over the other twin and ran for Bishop’s door. The door hung broken, but there was some resistance when the cook tried to open it. Grigori lowered his shoulder and slammed into the hardwood door. The door gave way, and he burst into the room. Almost immediately, the screaming began.

The first thing he noticed was that someone had affixed rope from the inside of the door to the curtains; when the cook had burst through, the rope had torn down the curtains in the room, filling the space with the full light of the morning sun.

The Bishop lay naked on his bed, hands and feet tied to the bed’s four posts. As the rays of the risen sun struck his body, Bishop Grigori began to burn by the light of day.

Jack Finn(Twitter:@therealjackfinn)