Podioracket Presents - Glimpses by Podioracket
Father Rafael bent over Sandro, his ear to his heart. As he pulled back, Sandro saw Father Rafael's fangs for the first time. Before Sandro could even blink, the fangs sank in his neck. Not pain, but a state of higher consciousness came over him. It felt as if he were outside of his body looking down on the scene. He watched as one and then another of the priests took a turn drinking from his neck.
"Papa!" His daughter's voice called to him. He turned towards her voice and saw his beloved daughter and wife in a glowing white light.
"Sandro, my love!" his wife called. They smiled, waving at him to come be with them in heaven.
"It's true, then," Sandro said. "You are in heaven after all."
"Come, Papa!"
Sandro drifted forward into the loving arms of his two heavenly girls. He felt his wife's kiss on his cheek.
"Oh, Ines, I thought I'd lost you," he said, squeezing them to him with all of his might.
Suddenly the light around him plunged into darkness as if he was attached to an infinite rubber band that snapped back into place. He tried to grasp at his wife and daughter, but they vanished. The slam of his spirit back into body sent him into spasms. Something was being poured into his mouth. He couldn't breathe. Coughing and sputtering, he found himself back in the ceremonial room, his body throbbing in pain.
He heard Father Rafael's voice in his ear. "Drink, my son. Let the blood of the Lord fill you and make you His creature."
Although he fought it, they forced the liquid down his throat even as he gasped for air. Nothingness consumed him.
* * *
When he awoke, Father Rafael stood over him, a proud smile on his face.
"God has found you worthy of His gift of eternal life."
Sandro blinked, breathing in what seemed like fresh ocean air. He had never felt as good. He was weak, to be sure, but all aches and pains were gone.
"Now sleep, my child." Father Rafael placed a hand over Sandro's eyes, making them close. "This evening we will begin your spiritual journey."
* * *
Over the next few weeks, Sandro learned the customs and rituals of the holy sect of vampires. According to Father Rafael, God had chosen him to be a warrior against evil. Soon, Sandro would be parish priest at an outpost in Brazil. He would guide others into the life of killing for God. To teach Sandro more about other parishes and get him involved in the leading of Mass and communion, Father Rafael took him to see many parishes in Italy.One night, Sandro asked, "Father Rafael, may I ask, what is that necklace you wear under your robes?"
Father Rafael smiled. "Even in immortality we are creatures of habit." He pulled on the silk cord around his neck, causing the silver charm to fall into his palm. "This is called an Ankh. It was given to me by my maker."
"What does it symbolize?"
"The Egyptians held it as a power symbol meaning life and energy. It brought Solan great comfort in his last days."
"Did he make you as you did me?"
"Things were a little different then. I was one of the first. The ceremony and rites were not as formed. Unfortunately, Solan lost his faith in the end. He was our leader, but only in title. The Monsignor had taken over long before, he claimed, by Solan's granting. As the Monsignor became the one to commune with God, Solan became more removed from us. A couple of weeks before his death, he came to me. He asked where he was and where his family had gone.
"I said, 'You are a servant of our Lord, made before any of us were born, what family could you have left?'
"He said, 'No, just yesterday I was with my family. We ate and then slept. Then I woke here. Why am I here? And why do I thirst for blood?'
"I don't know what happened. Was he simply a mad vampire, living beyond his sane years? Had his spirit spoiled? Or changed? I will never know, but in his last days, as I sat with him for nights on end as his body rejected any sort of blood we tried to feed him, this object brought him comfort." Father Rafael admired the necklace, running his thumb over the silver metal as if it might hold some secret he had to puzzle out.
"Father," Sandro paused, wondering how to phrase the sentence so it did not sound heretical.
"What is it my son? You may ask me anything. We have no secrets between us."
"Have you ever thought of leaving the church? You have been serving for so long. Do you not yearn for an easier life?"
Father Rafael smiled. "Yes. I have, but every time I think I will retire, God brings me back into his service."
"Back in? What do you mean?"
A knock at the door silenced their discussion.
"Father Rafael?" An altar boy stood by the door, bowing his head slightly as he spoke.
"Yes, my son?"
"We are ready to begin."
"Of course, we'll come anon." Father Rafael waited until the door closed again before he spoke to Sandro. "You will know what I mean when it happens to you. God has a grand plan, and we are but dutiful pawns."
* * *
Sandro's apprenticeship took him many places he'd never been. The cathedrals they visited were landmarks of finery, with large marble halls and intricate stained glass windows. When they reached Genoa's border, Father Rafael held a hand to Sandro's chest.
"Wait. There is something wrong."
He led Sandro around the city, coming to the cathedral the long way, entering a side entrance. As soon as they stepped into the building, a cold dread crept up Sandro's spine.
"Blood Warriors," Father Rafael whispered with fear in his voice.
"Who are…"
"Shh." Father Rafael led him silently under the rib-vaulted arches running parallel to the great nave, to a row of pews. "Stay here, stay down."
Sandro hid between the pews, fear causing his fangs extend and his vision sharpen. He peeked around the pew as Father Rafael crept forward to the confessional. From inside, Sandro heard a faint human heartbeat. Father Rafael swung the door open, revealing an altar boy from their home parish at Sora. The boy screamed and then ran into Father Rafael's arms.
"Father! I'm so happy to see you! We thought you were..."
"Vinicius, whatever are you doing here?"
"I came with Sergio and Aldo to warn you. The vampire army is coming after you. They have killed the Monsignor and all the other priests. They plan to kill us all. Why does God allow it, Father?"
Father Rafael did not hide his horror at the facts before him and he looked about the cathedral suspiciously as if the walls had ears. "Where are Sergio and Aldo?"
From the look of loss on the boy's face, Sandro knew they were dead. He'd not been in their family long, but the impact of the death of so many at once chilled him to the bone. Sandro closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and allowing the grief to pass over him rather than deal with it at that moment.
"I heard them coming. I hid in the confessional, praying they would not find me."
"Come." Father Rafael led the boy back to where Sandro hid. Speaking quieter, Father Rafael said, "We must leave this place. They don't know we are here, we can leave and regroup before confronting them."
"No, Father! They know you are coming. They don't know about Father Sandro, but they found your itinerary in Aldo's pack. They had to feed, but they will be back. They said you are the last one. Only after you are dead, will they head home.
Father Rafael took the information in. He nodded. "I see. Very well." He took the ankh from his neck and the small prayer book he kept in his inside pocket. "Sandro, it is up to you, my son. You are the only one to carry on God's work. Vinicius, here, will assist you, yes?"
"Of course, Father," Vinicius said.
"But Father, I am not ready. I don't know all the…"
"You must be ready. I'm sorry to place such a great burden on one so young to our life, but this is how it is." Father Rafael's head snapped up, towards the front door of the cathedral and then he looked back at Sandro, a hurried look in his eyes. "It's God's plan, remember? You shall be blessed." He kissed Sandro on the forehead, shoving
Sandro and Vinicius left Father Rafael as he stood and walked to the altar. He knelt, crossed himself and looked up at the massive crucifix hung above the apse, inlaid with gold. "If it be in Your infinite wisdom, oh Lord, grant me thy protection. May Your Angels guard and keep me the way I must travel, till my earth days are done..."
As Sandro walked to the door, he could feel the evil presence near. He could feel the hatred and animosity that bubbled in their souls.
He turned to Vinicius. "Go. They may hear your heart."
"But they didn't hear it last time and Father Ra-" Vinicius said.
"Go! I command you. Disguise yourself, remove your robe if you have to. Find other coverings. Wait at the end of town. As soon as it is done, I shall come for you."
"Yes, Father." Vinicius ran out the side entrance.
Sandro hid behind a large statue and prayed he stayed concealed. The doors of the cathedral slammed open, revealing three tall figures dress in black armor. One was a young woman who had black curly locks, tied at her neck, but flowing down past her waist. A man of perhaps middle age with crimson red eyes and battle scars across his right cheek stood beside her. The last, and perhaps the most impressive, stood in front. He had a strong build and long ebony hair, straight and shiny in the dim light.
Father Rafael stood and faced them. He had no weapon in his folded hands and no means to defend himself. Sandro closed his eyes, unsure he could watch his Sire die. His instinct was to rush the warriors, fight to his death to protect Father Rafael. But he had no weapon and no hope of overcoming the stronger vampires.
"So, we meet the elder, Rafael Donato, at last," the lead warrior said, smirking as his companions chuckled. "It will be an honor to dispatch you to your Lord after, what? Over 700 years?"
"I am not concerned," Father Rafael said.
"Not concerned?" He laughed to his friends. "It is natural to be scared of the fatal blow. Who are you that you do not fear death?"
"Who are you that you harm a servant of the Lord?"
The warrior stood straighter and his eyes narrowed on Father Rafael. "Not a servant of the Lord. A servant of deviltry. You who tell lies to believers of the church? You who hide their true nature behind religion and ceremony? Do you think yourself beyond abolishment? Those born of the devil shall die a devil's death. We have dispatched all your brothers to Hell. You shall join them soon."
"Hell? If you kill me, I shall go to heaven."
"Let us find out." The warrior pulled his sword, a gleam in his eye telling of his lust for battle. "I have him," he said to the other two warriors. "Check the other rooms."
"We have, Commander, only altar boys were left. We've dispatched them all," the woman said.
"Well done. See to the troops. We shall leave shortly."
"As you wish," the woman said. She and the other man bowed and left the cathedral.
"Are you ready to die?" the commander asked Father Rafael.
"If that is what God wishes, yes."
"No fight left in you?"
"Not against His will."
"Very well. I, Adrien Demos, on behalf of the Royal Blood Guard shall dispatch you in the name of our King, Domino Augustinos. You've been found wanting of moral character. So saith we!"
Father Rafael closed his eyes as Adrien sliced. Sandro turned away as his mentor's head toppled to the floor.
Sandro continued to hide as the Blood Warriors dragged Father Rafael's body into the courtyard and set it ablaze. Soon they were gone and Sandro was left alone to ponder his grief in the silent cathedral. He knelt in front of the altar, staring up at the crucifix. How could he live his life for a God that would not spare even a loyal servant such as Father Rafael?
Father Rafael's words echoed in his ears. "God has a grand plan, and we are but dutiful pawns."
Sandro contemplated his future. He did not want to serve a God who killed his family and his mentor in a matter of months, just to do the same to him after an eternal life of service. It seemed utterly pointless. And yet, where could he go? What could he do? He had little money and no home. He didn't even know how to find others like himself.
"Father Sandro?" Vinicius's voice came from the side entrance. "Is it done?"
"Yes," Sandro said, resigned to his future of heavenly service. "It is done."
https://podiobooks.com/title/nights-knights
The Siege
Katharina Maimer
Wien, August 1683.
Franz sat down on the edge of the fountain while the younger Dorde stood up straight, constantly checking left and right. The Beschützer was nervous, impatient and thoroughly unhappy with the man he was supposed to protect. In Dorde's opinion, merely being a member of the royal family didn't prevent Franz from being stupid. Dorde was in his mid-twenties, tall, strong, well-muscled and assigned to protect the older man, Franz, who was a Wächter, a keeper of the secrets of coffee. It was in this rôle that he was currently sitting in the middle of Austria's capital, Wien, on this particular hot summer afternoon. After weeks over the air being unbearably hot, a fierce summer rain had fallen over Wien the previous night, cleaning the dirty city streets as well as cooling the air. The Beschützer was more nervous than Franz had seen for a long time, pacing up and down the length of the fountain, perfectly alert, but with a sheen of sweat clearly visible on his forehead.
"Dorde, we can't go back just yet. Our mission is too important, we need to stay."
"What else do you think we can do here? Almost all of Europe is at war! There are hordes of Turkish soldiers in front of the city gates. Should we go there and brew them some coffee?"
"No, of course not! But maybe we could be of help in some other way! We have lived in Turkey for such a long time... maybe we can... I dunno..."
"This is not what we came here for! We were supposed to come here and stay for a year or two, spread the knowledge about coffee amongst the people here and then return safely. We have already spent several years in Turkey and I do understand why you wanted to come to Wien, but seriously... you know as well as I that we have to go back to our world. You are ageing more rapidly here and by the time we get back to Neu Meidling you'll be an old man! Have you thought about your kids? Your wife?"
"I think about them every day, Dorde, but there is a greater goal to be achieved here. They are perfectly safe, back in our world, but the people here are suffering. This is already the SECOND time the Turks have tried to take over Wien. Our wealth comes from spreading the knowledge amongst the people here. We can't just pack our bags and leave!"
"You have been here for too long, become too attached, Franz. It is time to go, believe me."
Franz wasn't listening to his companion anymore. His thoughts trailed off, back to the time he spent working in Turkey, teaching them coffee-brewing techniques as his sister, the queen, had assigned him. It was a long-standing tradition for the members of the royal family to spend a few years in this world, teaching about coffee and working with coffee before returning to Neu Meidling. One of the reasons no-one stayed longer than two years was that Wächter aged much faster in this world than the people here did, even more than the Beschützer assigned to them. He thought back to his wife and kids; he certainly missed them a great deal, yet her also loved this new world he was in, the people and everything around him. If he were being completely honest with himself, he had already thought about sending Dorde back to Neu Meidling alone, but something deep inside told Franz that his Beschützer was not going to budge one tiny bit from his side.
"It doesn't matter now, Dorde. We need to go back to the others."
* * *
The general sat at his desk, his brow furrowed in a combination of worry and concentration as he pored over an array of maps and reports spread out in front of him.
"What's wrong?" Dorde whispered to the soldier standing closest.
"The Turks are closing in and the Emperor's army is still too far away. The general is g
"Hmmm..." while Dorde was still deep in thought, he saw his companion slipping out of the mass of people, approaching the general.
"I'll do it," said Franz. "I am an interpreter, fluent in Turkish. It would be easy for me to blend in and get through the camps."
"No..." his Beschützer whispered, unheard to the people around him.
It was settled. Franz Kolschitzky, an interpreter in the king's army, was to walk through the Turkish camps and get the message to the Emperor's army that they must free the city. Dorde was so deeply worried that he could hardly speak. Living in this world had taken its toll on Franz and it was his job, after all, to protect him and get him back safely. So far, he had failed with an unforeseen perfection. He reached into his pocket, touching the cold metal of the pendant inside. Since the war began, Dorde had been carrying Franz' pendant in his pocket. The older man had given it to him for safekeeping, almost as if he didn't want anything to do with it anymore, as though Franz had passed the decision over to his Beschützer. The decision when the day would arrive that they would finally head back to their world, but that could not be far enough away for the Wächter.
For Dorde, it seemed that the pendant was much more valuable. It was the ticket back to their world, their Pass.
Traditionally, it was the Wächter who carried the Pass with him. Once it was time to travel to this world, a century-old ceremony was executed to find out what a person's Pass was. It was certainly not just any random thing, but that physical object which meant the most in the world to the bearer; something that would keep them grounded and get them back to the other world. For Franz, it was the pendant his grandfather gave him when he was a little boy. It was not clear for everyone what it was that meant the most to them in the whole world, but nobody would have needed a ceremony to figure out what it was going to be for Franz.
* * *
"I knew this wasn't going to work! What a stupid idea!" Dorde exclaimed.