Manlius stepped forward into the center of the courtyard. Conversations around him faded as everyone turned their attention toward him.
“We’ve managed to contain him,” he announced tiredly. “For now, he sleeps.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“We must decide what to do with him before he wakes,” Manlius continued, his gaze sweeping over the wounded and weary faces gathered in the clearing. “Boaz has suggested we keep him in the coffin and allow his body time to heal itself from whatever poison the demon left inside him. But…we cannot be certain that will work.”
The weight of his words settled over the courtyard.
“Many of you may want him dead after what happened,” Manlius went on. “And no one blames you. Too many lives were lost tonight,” his voice softened, “however, it does not feel right to lose another.”
For a long moment, no one spoke. No one moved.
Father Claremore closed his eyes, clutching his crucifix and silently praying someone would choose differently.
One of the vampires stepped forward from the gathered crowd. His face was streaked with dirt and ash, his dark clothes torn and soaked through with blood. His eyes burned with fierce determination as he cast his gaze around the courtyard.
“We will take him home,” he said.
Manlius frowned. “I don’t think moving him is wise, Greer,” he replied. “The journey north is long and dangerous. Your mountain roads are barely passable even under normal circumstances.” He gestured toward the church behind him.“And with him sealed inside that coffin, teleportation is impossible. If the stake shifts even an inch during the journey, he could wake up. And we have no idea what he will be when he does.”
The vampire’s jaw tightened. “Then where do you suggest we keep him?”
“He’s safe here,” Boaz said, his voice carrying across the courtyard for all to hear.
Father Claremore blinked. His gaze darted around the courtyard.
Here?
Did he mean… here? In his church? In his cellar?
His stomach twisted painfully.
No. Please, no.
Yet despite the panic tightening his chest, Father Claremore said nothing. The supernatural beings gathered here had saved every soul in the valley tonight. While the villagers slept peacefully in their beds, unaware of how close the world had come to ending, these creatures had fought and bled to protect them.
Still… keeping a vampire beneath the church? And for how long?
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Greer argued. “If we take him home, we can watch over him. We can make sure he stays asleep.”
“You can do the same here,” Boaz replied firmly. “Moving him is too risky.”
“There is a reason we live in the north…” the vampire said slowly. His gaze moved across the courtyard, lingering on the unfamiliar hills and forests surrounding the valley. “We have longer nights there. Darkness that lasts for months in some places.” He shook his head. “We can’t stay here. And…”
“What?” Manlius pressed, stepping closer.
Concern etched Greer's face. “We might have a problem. Once the blood he drank before battle works through his system, the only thing left inside him will be pure survival instinct. He’s going to rise.”
Boaz frowned. “Don’t vampires sleep most of the time?”
“They do,” the vampire replied. “But only when they choose to.” He glanced toward the church doors. “He didn’t choose to sleep. We forced him under. First with magic, then by driving a stake through his heart. A stake that should have killed him. But it didn’t.”
The murmuring in the courtyard got louder.
“His heart is still beating. Faintly… but it’s beating. Every one of us can hear it. And once the blood he drank runs dry, he'll rise. The only thing I know that drives a vampire into madness is hunger. He was already losing control before we subdued him. Combine that with his instincts…”
“Shit,” Boaz muttered.