Chapter Text
Vampires are disgusting creatures of the night that hunt for sport, feed upon the weak and live for debauchery. The sins of the original vampire as well as the vampires’ own sins have all casted them out of the sun, but what is light to creatures such as these? They bathe in the moonlight, drink the blood of the innocents and have heightened senses. The Price family has been hunting these creatures since the beginning of time and will continue to hunt them until the end of the earth. These lowly creatures that have betrayed God’s love, all deserved to burn in the inner ring of the seventh circle of Hell for their violent blaspheming against Him. That’s how the Price family had raised their young for centuries and John wasn’t the exception.
John Price was raised to kill the elusive vampire Lord that his family had been trying to eradicate since the 18th century, Lord Kyle Garrick the Terrible. When John was but a child, he couldn’t believe his family hadn’t been able to even get close to harming him. As he grew into the man he is today, he understood more and more. At his 44 years of age, John had been the only vampire hunter of the Price family to even get close enough to harming the Lord, only scarring the vampire’s cheek minimally. The vampire had sought him all of the times they fought, and had even invited John to his castle several times. For Lord Garrick, this seemed to be but a game which constantly put John in a bad mood.
John groaned in annoyance from his desk as he read another of the vampire Lord’s letters, getting his assistant’s attention. Simon Riley, 36, the assistant who John had rescued twelve years prior. Werewolves and humans had coexisted for centuries, even working together in the eradication of vampires, so it had been strange that a pack of wolves had attacked Simon’s troop. The then Lieutenant had survived long enough that the werewolves had decided to turn him into one of their own, which had been their ultimate demise. Simon had gone on a rampage against them once he had been able to turn for the first time, and when he finally turned back to his human form, he could do nothing but aimlessly wander the forest. John had been called to investigate the disappearance of Simon’s troop, thinking it had been a vampire attack. The vampire hunter came face to face with the lonesome werewolf after two days of investigation and the gruesome aftermath of his rampage.
“God, he’s insistent, I’ll give him that…” John grumbled as he opened his desk’s drawer where he kept all of the vampire Lord’s letters.
“You should take the offer, I’m tired of his wolves coming to deliver these letters.” Simon said as he stood from his own desk, where he had been sorting more of John’s correspondence, “If I see the American wolf one more time, I will shove silver bullets down his throat with my bare hands.”
“Simon, you are a wolf yourself… and no, I won’t be going to the enemy’s home,” John scoffed at Simon’s annoyed expression, “You more than anyone should know that’s just asking to get killed.”
“He is a young vampire, John. What could go wrong?” Simon shrugged.
“Everything when you ask a question such as that,” John huffed a laugh as he stood from his desk. The older man walked towards the door of the office and grabbed his coat, slipping it on as Simon watched him closely. John secured his hat on, as Simon walked towards him.
“Where are you headed to? To Lord Garrick’s castle?” Simon raised an eyebrow at John.
“Not at all, I have an appointment with Lady Laswell,” John sighed. Lady Kate Laswell was an expert on cryptid hunting from the Americas who had moved to England ten years prior with her very close lady friend, Lady Amelia Lewis. Kate’s books on cryptids had caught John’s attention and they had been working together for about eight years now. It was nice seeing Kate, but it always meant more work.
“Hmm, remember to go by the church then. Father MacTavish has your blessed silver bullets and Holy Water,”
“Ah, I had forgotten… Could you go fetch them, Simon?”
“First, I am your guard dog, then I am your messenger boy… Fine, I will go.”
“You seem to have taken a liking to the priest– you agreed too quickly,” John teased.
“Go already, old man, don’t keep Lady Laswell waiting,” Simon groaned as he pushed John lightly towards the door.
With a quick goodbye to Simon, John was out the door and into the busy London streets. 1845 had been quite the chilly year so far, perfect for the cryptids but not that much for humans. John was indifferent to the cold but he knew Simon loved it, sleeping in his wolf form on their shared flat on the second floor to the building with their office. John would sleep against Simon’s fur on the coldest night at the start of the year, and he was sure he’d do the same by the end of the year.
The sun was beginning to set when Simon had reached Father MacTavish’s parish. The elaborate architecture of the main building of the parish, the church, was always an intimidating image for the werewolf and had always been a source of anxiety inducing dreams for him.
When Simon stepped inside the church, he could see Father MacTavish with the other two priests of the parish. When their discussion had ended and the priest had noticed Simon, he had quickly ushered the werewolf towards the clergy house on the back of the church’s perimeter, leaving the other two priests to look after the main building. Simon followed him like a lost puppy until they were finally in the clergy house’s room where Father MacTavish had the cryptid operation’s information and miscellaneous trinkets.
“Sorry, Simon,” Father MacTavish chuckled as he closed the door and turned back to face the werewolf, “The parish haes bin chaotic ever since thay announced that anither priest haes bin assigned tae help wi' the duties!”
“Why would they need to send in more priests? Aren’t there enough with you and the other two?” Simon was confused, but he truly did not know the extent of the work a catholic priest had apart from masses and confessions.
“This is a huge parish, all help is welcomed and Padre Vargas seems tae be the best fit,” Father MacTavish spoke as he opened a secret compartment behind one of the giant bookcases, pulling out a case full of things that he had prepared for John and Simon, “'ere, enough bullets tae kill three hundred vampires.”
“Hmm, thank you, Father MacTavish,” Simon carefully examined the contents of the case, thick gloves on to avoid getting burnt by the silver, “Never understood what was so powerful about silver and some prayers…”
“Ye can juist call me Johnny whin it’s juist us, ye know,” Father MacTavish– Johnny chuckled again at Simon’s confusion, “Silver is a noble metal according to alchemy, it’s power is limited and that’s why the bullets need to be infused with sacramental carriers of grace, like salt or garlic.”
“And what about the prayers, Johnny ?”
“According to the first Corinthians: If I speak with the tongues of men, and of angels, and hast not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And would I should'st hast bodement and should'st wot all mysteries, and all knowledge, and would I should'st hast all faith, so that I could doff mountains, and hast not charity, I am nought ,”
“Meaning?”
“Vampires and other creatures like it fear the grace of the Lord which is strong enough to move mountains, that’s also why they fear the sunlight. Sunlight is God’s grace upon the Earth,” Johnny was very patient as he explained everything to the werewolf. The Scottish priest was very well versed when it came to theology and cryptids, so much so that Simon considered him to be almost as well versed as Lady Laswell was in the topic of cryptids.
“Thank you for the course on theology, Johnny,” Simon closed the heavy case with ease, “I got to go now.”
“Sae soon?” Johnny seemed disappointed.
“I didn’t want to intrude on God’s house, I’m a monster after all,” Simon said matter-of-factly but Johnny seemed to disagree with the way he was furiously shaking his head.
“Na, ye ur nae a monster, ye ur guid man who is always welcomed 'ere,”
“I wish that were the case.”
The meeting had gone quite well, Kate had updated John on new information about a group of undead that had been spotted near London. The undead were an easier kill than vampires were. The hunter had stayed a little longer than what he had expected thanks to Lady Lewis’ invitation to stay for dinner, and now he found himself walking through the dark and foggy London streets with the moon as his companion.
John walked slowly, smoking his cigar as he enjoyed the calm streets until an elaborately decorated carriage pulled up, made in the 1700s with a clear Rococo style. The carriage was familiar, the driver was familiar and the occupant of the carriage was all too familiar.
“Good evening, Lord Price,” Alex Keller, the driver and Lord Garrick’s werewolf right hand man from the Americas, greeted with a smile as he got down from his spot to open the carriage. Out walked Lord Garrick with his gorgeous smile and his perfect skin, the only imperfection being the scar that John had landed on his cheek two years prior.
“Good evening, John,” Lord Garrick walked up to him with a fanged smile. Truth be told, John would try to kill him right there and then if it weren’t for the fact that the vampire Lord was protected by Scotland Yard. He would ignore that too if it weren’t for the fact that Kate had pointed out that Lord Garrick wasn’t actually a threat.
“Fuck off, Lord Garrick,” John had a hand on his revolver as a warning, “Maybe Scotland Yard welcomes you here, but I don’t welcome your kind around here.”
“My, my… that’s very discriminatory, John!” Lord Garrick feigned offence and then he allowed his predatory gaze back on his face, “I do not feed on your kind, anyway.”
“And I am the Queen of England. What is it that brought you out of your castle?”
“Hmm, I wanted to see the city and, of course, see you,” Lord Garrick chuckled as he gestured for Alex to give him something– a letter perhaps, “I am cordially inviting you to the Ball I am holding in a week, all of the city will be there so I was hoping you and your dear assistant could come as well.”
John accepted the invitation and examined it. He had heard something about the Ball from Father MacTavish but hadn’t paid much attention to it. John knew he could use this opportunity to attack but also it may very well be a trap.
“Fine, we’ll be in attendance, Lord Garrick,” John said after a beat of silent consideration, he was weighing his options.
“Marvellous!” Lord Garrick flashed another fanged smile to John before he got back into the carriage, only popping his head out to say, “Please call me Kyle, we have been friends for 20 years now!”
John did not say anything and just watched as Alex closed the carriage’s door, saluted John with his hat and then went back to the driver’s spot. He did not say anything as he watched the carriage’s horses trot off into the night, disappearing into the thick fog as if they were nothing but apparitions. John only allowed himself to sigh in annoyance once the silence was back on the streets.
“Fucking hell, I can’t catch a break, can I?”