At that close range the bolt had enough power to bury itself to the feathers. Fortunately it hit the cleric in the shoulder, missing anything vital, but the force of it knocked him off his feet. He lay sprawled on the snow-covered sand just beyond the cavern mouth. He tried to get to his feet, but he couldn’t support himself with his left arm. With a groan of pain he collapsed back to the ground. He could feel the chill creeping into him, and he knew he was bleeding too freely, but he couldn’t summon any more energy.

Serapha stared at the still form of her friend. She suddenly realized that there wasn’t going to be any more rescue. Michael was probably out of commission, or he would have come, her brother Alan wouldn’t even miss her until it was near dawn, and by then it would almost certainly be too late. She would have to rescue herself, and soon if she wanted to save Father Benton too. Looks like there’s only one way out, she told herself. I can’t get untied, so I have to get Gabriel to let me go. And there’s only one way that’s going to happen.

“Gabriel,” she said, having no difficulty making her tone sincere with a touch of pleading in it. “Please, let me go to him. I’ll give you anything. I’ll do whatever you want. I promise.”

“You know what I want,” he said. And so she did. He’d told her in all to vivid detail what he wanted.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it. Just untie me. Let me take care of my friend before he dies.”

“You can take care of the old man after,” said Gabriel. Serapha had been hoping for a different answer, for this left only one path open to her, but she hadn’t really thought that Gabriel would let her go that easily.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“You swear, you’ll not run away once I untie you?”

“I promise.”

“I’ll kill him,” he gestured at the cleric, “if you do.”

“I understand,” she said. “I won’t try anything.”

Gabriel knelt next to her and undid the ropes around her hands. She flexed her fingers, working the stiffness out of them. Still kneeling beside her, Gabriel closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “Now,” he said, “keep your promise.”

Serapha shuddered. She didn’t want to do what she had to do, but she couldn’t see any other choice. She put one hand behind Gabriel’s head, feeling almost sick with revulsion, but she forced herself to put her lips to his neck and bite down. Immediately the rush of his blood hit her, and she no longer had to struggle against nausea. It didn’t matter that she hated what she was doing, that was lost in the warm red heat of the moment. Then along with the purely physical sensation of taking his blood she came into contact with his mind. That wasn’t quite as pleasant. He was no longer sane, but the confusion that swirled through his thoughts at the sensations of this second vampiric encounter was almost enjoyable for Serapha. With almost gleeful vengeance she thought, you didn’t have a clue what really happened before, did you?

She knew what had caused the intensity of their previous joining. Not long after she had changed, her father had sat her down for a rather bizarre “the birds and the bees” talk. He explained what her changed condition meant for whoever she might come to love. She’d understood how the blood-bond created when she took human blood would link her and her partner emotionally at a very deep level. But Gabriel didn’t have any such knowledge. He had no way of knowing that this time would be different, for now Serapha felt no love and no passion towards him. She felt only hatred. And where before the physical accompaniment of the emotional bond had been pleasurable, now it was painful. Gabriel shuddered with it, unable to cry out as he was held in complete paralysis. Serapha could feel that too, and her earlier reluctance returned. However much she might hate the captain, she wasn’t the kind that could draw pleasure from other people’s pain. She almost stopped. Surely this would be enough? But no, if she stopped now there was a chance that Gabriel might have enough strength left to keep her from escaping, keep her from saving Father Benton. She could take no chances. And so she continued drinking until the taste of Gabriel’s blood went dead in her mouth and his heart fluttered one last time and then stopped.

She let his body fall and tried to spit the ashen taste of that last mouthful out, wanting to gag. She’d just killed him. But there was no time for that. She quickly got to her feet and went over to Father Benton. He was still breathing, and she let out a little sigh of relief. She went to pick him up and then stopped with a gasp of pain. I forgot, vampires and clerics don’t mix. Oh well, nothing else but to just bear it, she told herself. The larger man was almost too heavy, even for her, and it was awkward, to say the least. But she managed to get him off the ground, and somehow she carried him up the narrow trail to the top of the cliffs. From there is was a simple matter of enduring the inescapable burning sensation for the rest of the trip. She gritted her teeth as waves of pain washed down her arms and walked on. Finally she reached the edge of town. She stopped at the first house she came to, assuming that this near his church anybody would know Father Benton. Fortunately she guessed right and was instantly let in by a worried housewife.

“What happened to the Father?” the woman exclaimed.

“Explanations later,” said Serapha. “Right now he needs help.”

The woman nodded and before long she was administering what first aid she knew while her husband went to fetch another cleric. Serapha found a quiet corner and just stayed out of everyone’s way. Soon the other cleric arrived, and before long Father Benton was sitting up, properly bandaged and well on his way to recovery.

“Serapha?” he said, spotting her in the corner. “Are you all right?”

She smiled. “Just like you to think of me when you’re just back from death’s door. Yes, I’m fine.”

“I’d give you a hug, but…” he shrugged.

She laughed. “It’s all right. Is Michael okay?”

“He was when I left,” said the cleric. “He should still be over at my house. He had a concussion, but he was over the worst when I left. But what happened? The last thing I remember was getting shot by that lunatic.”

Serapha closed her eyes. “I killed him,” she said softly. There was a sudden silence, and Serapha became aware again of the other people in the room.

“We can talk about it later,” said Father Benton. “And now if my esteemed colleague approves, I think I should be getting back to my own home.”

Father Benton’s fellow cleric smiled. “You’ll be fit as ever in a few days. There’s no reason why walking a few blocks should be beyond you right now. Just go slowly.”

“I have every intention of going slowly,” he replied. He said his thanks to the other cleric and to the housewife and her family, and then he set off down the road, moving at a sedate walk. Soon they arrived at Father Benton’s own home, next to the little church, and he let out a heartfelt sigh as he stepped inside the door. He settled gingerly into his chair, saying, “Your young man is upstairs in the spare bedroom. Don’t disturb him if he’s asleep, but you no doubt want to look in on him.”

“Thanks,” said Serapha, and headed up the stairs.