It was high noon when Carlos found Gio in the courtyard. He was speaking with Sister Catherine about recent renovations for the older part of the monastery when Carlos approached him.
Carlos knew that when he got angry, people would tremble. He wasn't an angry man; it was just what being different had done to him. So, he tried to come with a peace offering as he walked through the courtyard, past the quiet, trickling fountain, and the statue of Mother Maria.
Carlos smiled, with his eyes as well, but he scared off Sister Catherine. Sister Catherine was small, old, her blonde hair with wisps of grey. All she saw was a strange man that faintly always smelled of blood. She excused herself and said something about the time getting away from her and left.
Carlos, the peacemaker that he was, still tried to give an olive branch.
"I know you want something from me, and I'm willing to give it to you Gio."
Gio didn't bother lying to Carlos. Gabriel was untrained, and he couldn't smell lies like the others, so he was easier to trick. Gio was well versed in the world of what he called, creatures of filth, and saw Carlos as no different from the others.
"I want Santos Dominus's blood," Gio replied. "Give it to me, and I'll give you what you want as well. A cure for vampirism."
"I never asked for that," Carlos said.
"You didn't have to. Why else would you be here? Give me the blood, or at least a lead towards it, and I'll give you what you want."
Gio turned to leave, but Carlos put his hand on his shoulder. Gio smacked his hand away, and Carlos shirked back. He wasn't physically hurt, but he was emotionally. The small sound of the smack seemed much louder in the empty courtyard, filled with small green shrubs and daisies.
Carlos heard the smack, he felt it cut into his dead, shriveled heart and tried not to let it show, still smiling with his eyes but not his mouth.
"Don't touch me ever again," Gio shouted.
His olive skin turned red; his calm facade now gone.
Gio was no more, his mask of a pious man replaced by the opportunist he was.
Carlos didn't say anything, as he had his question answered. Gio wanted his father's blood, but Carlos didn't know why. What could he even do with it anyway since Santos was long gone from the realm of the living.
Gio walked away, wiping his hands on his twill trousers, afraid to get any filth on him. Carlos knew that Gio was trying to manipulate Gabriel. Gio told Gabriel all that information, so Carlos would know as well.
Carlos hated that he walked into a trap and was angry that he brought Gabriel along with him.
He decided to take advantage of the daylight hours he would have away from his shadow, Gabriel, to look around the monastery. It was a few days before the Spring Equinox, and Easter would soon be arriving. The sisters were busy planning events for the monastery, and fathers were preparing for the Easter services.
Their small monastery in Chiusi was the only place for miles that some of the farmers could come to practice their faith, and everyone took their dedication to the role seriously.
Carlos wanted to help, but after Gio's reaction, it was clear what everyone there thought of him. Carlos walked underneath a long stone terrace, held up by roman columns, and took a left. He pushed open an old, heavy black door, its handle cold to the touch, and entered the oldest part of the monastery.
The moment he stepped inside; something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Every cell in his body was telling him danger was near. Carlos was defiant and knew that it must be a trick . No one was going to stop him from learning what Gio was up to. He had seen him and Fiorino come inside this old part of the monastery at strange times of the night, and he knew they must be hiding something in there.
Carlos walked down the dark and dreary hallway, and then up a flight of stone stairs. The higher he went, the more anxious he became, his vision blurred and skin sweaty.
His sweat had a red tint to it, and it started to leave stains on his white shirt. At the top of the staircase was another door, and Carlos was too exhausted to open it. Every blink was a struggle, and his legs wobbled, unable to hold his own weight. By then his shirt was no longer white, but a slight pink hue.
The door opened, and there stood Fiorino.
Fiorino was wearing a long black cassock, but this one had a strange emblem over his heart. Fiorino watched as Carlos fell to the ground and didn't help. He now knew what made his guest special.
"What manner of filth are you," Fiorino asked.
Carlos fell onto the ground, and his eyes twitched, as he tried to speak. None of the words made sense, and the more he spoke, the less coherent he was. With a heavy sigh, Fiorino closed the door.
After a few moments, he opened the door again, to find Carlos sitting upright, the seal lifted. Carlos could taste Fiorino's disdain in the air. He had the same look that Gio gave him when he touched him.
It was the same look people gave him as a child before the Empire invaded. Before they were all united against a common enemy, and people were still squabbling over race, and gender, or religion.
Disgust of the other.
Fiorino didn't offer to help him up, and returned to his chamber, leaving the door open. Carlos stumbled in, and adjusted his red tie, wondering what he had done to make him so unstable. It was the closest he had gotten to dying in his 201 years of living.
Fiorino read a large and heavy book, with yellowed pages, the words handwritten, while he sat at his antique desk. Without his eyes leaving the book, he pointed to an old, sunken red chair in the corner, and uttered a single word.
"Sit."
Carlos didn't move.
"Sit or else I'll turn it on again."
Carlos sat down.
Still reading his large book, Fiorino told Carlos that he wasn't welcome. He had to leave, and he couldn't take Gabriel with him. Fiorino stated that he was an animal in human skin, trying to devour children. He told Carlos that he wasn't surprised someone like him was an abomination.
"Gio invited me here, if you have a problem with it, ask him, " Carlos replied.
Fiorino's finger that was following along the page stopped, and he suppressed the urge to look up from his work. Fiorino's suspicions about Gio were right. That he was a charlatan pretending to be a priest.
He was too young, or he appeared to be too young. Sometimes Fiorino would hear him making strange phone calls, at odd hours, discussing abhorrent, unnatural things. Fiorino tried to pretend that he wasn't nervous, but Carlos could smell it.
It smelled good.
"I'm joining your little club , and your opinion doesn't matter. What matters is that I get what I came here for," Carlos said.
Fiorino finally looked up from his page and was breathing heavy, trying to keep his anger down. The one thing he agreed with Gio on was that he should remember his vows. Hastily, he put in a feather as a bookmark, and carefully closed the book, not to damage it.
"Your kind are not welcome here."
"Why not? I seek the same salvation as you."
Fiorino was disgusted that a savage would ever insist that he was capable of something as beautiful as a relationship with God. Blasphemous.
Carlos smelled his anxiety change to anger, the smell akin to burning rubber, and tried not to stir the pot. He wasn't trying to be rude, but no matter what he said to them, they were going to use it against him.
"I will not explain this to you ever again, savage. You have turned from God, the only sin that you cannot seek redemption from."
Carlos tapped his foot, and smiled with his eyes, flashing his incisors, trying to stay happy, but Fiorino wouldn't let him.
"I have strayed from the path, I admit, Fiorino, but I have never turned away-"
"Don't lie," Fiorino shouted. "You became a monster! You lie!"
Carlos decided to be the monster they said he was. He didn't have to scream or shout; his demeanor and allure were enough to scare the meatsuits. Fiorino felt something heavy on his chest, as Carlos stood up from his chair.
With every step, Fiorino's old heart paced faster, and he clutched his chest, afraid that he was going through cardiac arrest. Carlos stopped an entire foot away from his desk and made his voice known.
"I don't ask for respect. I demand it."
An unknown force pushed down on his shoulders, and Fiorino slumped down in his chair, the pressure overwhelming on his ancient bones. His gnarled fingers grabbed the sides of his wooden chair and steadied himself, so he wouldn't fall out of the chair, and his throat was drier than a desert, hard to speak.
"I never asked to become this. Why should I be punished," Carlos asked.
He took another step closer to the desk, and Fiorino could now see his eyes, glowing a satanic red, and they were mesmerizing. Fiorino's body started to relax, and all he could do was stare into his eyes, the world evaporating behind them, soft whispers in his head.
They told him everything is fine, nothing is wrong.
"Remember this feeling," Carlos whispered. "Gabriel and I aren't stuck in here with you. You're stuck in here with us."
Carlos blinked and released Fiorino from his allure. Before Fiorino could object, Carlos left and slammed the heavy door behind him. Now alone, the weight of Carlos's words had struck his very soul.
Fiorino now had a new problem, worse than Gio and his lies.
Carlos sat in the courtyard again, on a stone bench, listening to the twitter of the birds, and relaxing in the spring breeze. He inspected his black, sharpened fingernails, and his face became hot.
He was embarrassed.
Carlos let his anger get the best of him and used his allure to scare another meatsuit. Gabriel whispered in his head that Fiorino deserved it anyway, but Carlos knew better. As much as he wanted to hate Fiorino, he knew that the priest was only doing what he thought was best.
With no one to talk to, other than Gabriel, who agreed with whatever he said, Carlos started to reminisce about his life before. There wasn't much to remember, as he was turned at the age of thirty.
Tell me more, Gabriel whispered. I want to know everything about you.
Carlos sighed and hung his head.
He closed his eyes and images flashed through his head, telling Gabriel how he had become the former man he was today.