Chapter Twenty-Eight: Anything For Family

Pastor Mooney had been the head of the Twin Boughs Methodist Church for about nine years now – since Verne was maybe twelve years old. Vera vaguely remembered the time before then – she hadn't been especially attuned to church politics, but things hadn't seemed so divisive and prone to fire and brimstone fist-thumping before that. While Pastor Mooney was a man of many virtues, nuance was not among them. He had a resounding baritone, captivating green eyes, coppery hair mostly gone to silver, and the holier-than-thou confidence of a thoroughly righteous man. Thus, while Vera hoped that things would go down smoothly, she wasn't betting on the good pastor providing much lubrication.

"Don't expect too much," she said.

Lisa gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I won't blame you if everything goes to shit."

Vera had let herself in and, presumably because of her mother's text, her uninvited vampire instincts weren't roaring to life. That wasn't to say she was coasting on an even keel. Using her mindfulness, Vera identified anxiety blooming up through her emotional space even if her body no longer offered any overt signs of it. Her heart thudded at its same glacial pace and her lungs sucked in air whenever the stuff sitting in there grew stale. She'd tried to hold her breath at work during tedious scans and made it through an entire 25-minute abdominal MRI before she had to take in a breath and tell Mr. Ryman that the scan was over. It seemed that breathing, along with a host of other physiological functions, were now medically optional, but she still needed them for mindfulness. Vera brought in a deep breath and slowly exhaled just like Maxie had showed her.

She clasped Lisa's hand and they ascended the stairs and into the Vera residence. Nobody was there in the kitchen to greet them, but Vera could hear them breathing, could smell their cologne, deodorant, and sweat. She could see Pastor Mooney sitting in her father's easy chair in his chinos and black button-up shirt. He leaned forward and whispered to Vic:

"I think they're here."

Vera made what she hoped was a nonconfrontational wave and plodded in with Lisa even more reluctant behind her. She sensed her father's disapproving frown and tried to minimize anything he might consider an overtly feminine movement. She regretted not wearing her work scrubs to the meeting. There was nothing wrong with scrubs – surely, nobody could have objected to those. In contrast, her khaki shorts were too snug and too short, too tight in the butt and the crotch to be churchy. Her blouse was lacy and translucent in parts – not properly modest at all and distinctly femnine. And, she realized, these worries were just reflex reactions within her brain – she was thinking like a child walking into the presence of adults. She was thinking like a girl desperate for approval and affirmation. But Vera was a vampire - a vampire who deigned parlay with mere humans. Parents or not, wasn't she their better now? No, that was too much… Vera had to face them as equals… for now.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Mulberry," she said. "Sorry if this is super unexpected and super weird, but I'm Verne and this is Lisa."

Lisa peeked out from behind Vera. "Hi, mom... hey, dad."

It took a little doing to convince the Mulberrys that Lisa was their daughter. But after some inquiry and prodding, they couldn't help but be convinced. Lisa was able to account for too many specifics and too many unprompted details to deny that it was her. Once they were convinced of her identity, it wasn't so hard to imagine that the other cute girl was their suddenly uber-hot daughter's boyfriend-turned-girlfriend. It wasn't like Vera's looks came out of nowhere. Lisa and Vera both still resembled their parents, even if they didn't resemble their old selves. Lisa's delicate features and fair complexion clearly took after her mother's, though you'd have to assume that every little variable of appearance and development had been nudged in exactly the right direction, either along her father's lines or through sublime traits long dormant in the lineage. It was a bit amusing to watch the Mulberrys cycle through emotions like an improv acting troupe: disbelief, bewilderment, concern, relief, and then apoplexy – this last bit when Lisa let slip that she may have killed the dog.

"That was you?" her father's knuckles went white gripping the arm of the couch.

"I didn't mean to kill Bingo... he bit my finger, and I have these reactions now..."

"I can't believe you killed the dog..." Celia Mulberry sobbed into her husband's shoulder. And if her dad was any angrier, he might have had an aneurysm.

"Is this the unholiness you spoke of Victor?" Pastor Mooney asked.

Vera's father agreed that it was. He provide a substantially redacted recounting of his last interaction with Vera… the one where she'd defended herself from his strike and then knocked him down, very nearly losing control and sucking her own father dry. At the time, Vera had been ravenous and inching toward advanced bloodlust and Vic had done everything he could do to provoke her. Still, Vera had managed to keep her more violent instincts in check until he actually tried to smack her.

"I'm sure your father taught you not to hit women – I know mine did," Vera huffed.

"You're not a fu... a dang woman," Vic stated. "You can't change what God made you."

Vera tugged at the hem of her peasant blouse to point out the obvious: she was no longer what God, nature, or a lifetime of masculine socializing had made her. Pastor Mooney observed all this impassively, his heartbeat and breathing both steady. He scribbled some notes on his pad as if he were a psychiatrist or counselor, but it was turned away from Vera so she couldn't see if there was actually anything insightful there. She sat herself in one of the little folding chairs, which was all the seating left in the room – the parents and the pastor occupied all of the permanent seating, as if to make the two of them feel unwelcome. And it more or less worked... Vera had to force herself to be calm, to center herself and soothe her emotions. Pastor Mooney's forest-green eyes took her in, sitting demurely in the folding chair, lithe legs crossed at the knee with a leather sandal dangling from a slim foot. Fuck. She should have worn her scrubs. Pastor Mooney cleared his throat.

"I can see that this is a much more serious matter than I prayed for. I guess I'd hoped to dissuade Verne from an unwise course of action, to help him embrace God's plan for him, to ward him from sin and nudge him along a path of reconciliation and healing. There's no shame in veering off the straight and narrow – we're only human, and we all do it, some more and some less. We are all tempted by wickedness, and we all give in at some point. For instance, Victor, when you got angry at your son, you admitted to throwing the first punch. You gave into wrath... you ought not have done it, though I understand where you came from. But violence isn't the answer. Gays and other sexually confused folks are wayward, but they're still our brothers and sisters in Christ. But I fear that this is worse. That this is more than a young man deciding to be a… transsexual... it's dark magic or devilry. I fear that Verne has made a pact with demonic forces."

Vera was about to object – it was a completely unfair pronouncement. After all, she'd specifically rejected making a pact with demonic forces, even though it would have been safer and more-convenient for her to do so. Granted, she'd also killed three people in the past week, but she had never relished it. She was trying to be a good person, and mostly succeeding, despite being a vampire. The injustice made her seethe. That, plus Pastor Mooney was being a fucking bigot. She didn't give a fuck what Pastor Mooney thought, not now, not ever… but her parents did care. To defend herself, Vera was about to object, but Lisa's mother interjected instead, her makeup now streaked, her emotions still reeling from the bad news about Bingo.

"Demons? Really, Pastor Mooney? I don't know what strange things Lisa and... uh, Verne..."

"Vera."

Lisa's mother nodded. "I don't know what strange and horrible things Lisa and Vera have been into, but it sounds like modern medicine run amok. I don't know if you knew this, pastor, but Lisa and Vera both had a very rare and deadly condition called NVC, and I'd have done anything to cure my Lisa, and I'm glad she's found something to help, even if the results were... well, more dramatic than I might have liked. Whatever 'deal' they’ve made, any of us would have made it."

"I wouldn't have," Pastor Mooney said with uncharacteristic calm. He reached into his wallet and placed a worn photo on the table, a copper-haired teenaged girl in a wheelchair, her limbs held at an obviously unnatural angle. "This is my daughter Hope... she died two years ago this month from complications of her cerebral palsy. Felicity and I tried everything – everything – under the sun that we thought might help her. I prayed every night, and fasted and repented, of course. I turned to Christ and was spiritually fulfilled, but He didn't heal my Hope. And we pursued the medical options – medications and surgeries and brain stimulation. And we pursued quackery... herbs and cleanses and magnets, auras... that was mostly Felicity's doing, but I didn't object. And I was tempted to renounce my faith, to offer Satan his due, if only he could make my daughter healthy and beautiful like she deserved. But I didn't, because her soul, my soul, any of our souls are worth more than an easy path through this world. I'm afraid to say that Verne and your daughter have taken that path – they've rejected the gift of the Holy Spirit, and are beyond redemption."

"Hold on," Vera said. She eased up from the folding chair and scowled at the pastor. "I haven't rejected anything. Pardon my saying so, Pastor Mooney, but you don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Vernon!" Vic snapped, pulse pounding, his fists balling up.

Pastor Mooney stayed him with his hand. "Hold on, Victor, let him speak."

"For the past week, I've been trying to put my life back together a piece at a time," Vera said. "It's slow going, but I'm willing to put the work in. But I've also been trying to fight the dark forces that are trying to corrupt the city... probably trying to corrupt the whole world. If you're on the side of good, then that's the side I'm also on, and I've risked my ass against supernatural forces to do it..."

"Supernatural forces? Come now," Mrs. Mulberry snorted.

"Is that any weirder than explaining how I've changed?" Lisa said. "Vera and I aren't evil. We just want our lives back."

"Well... you two certainly can't see one another anymore," Mr. Mulberry gestured toward Vera. "She's a girl now. It wouldn't be appropriate."

Vera almost laughed at him – with everything happening, Mr. Mulberry's main concern was that his daughter was in a lesbian relationship. In a way, that was a breath of fresh air. But it also spoke to the kind of small-mindedness that they were dealing with. And Pastor Mooney was even less flexible in his morality than either of their fathers. The pastor just shook his head.

"I fear they're both fallen, Mark. There's nothing more to be done..."

"This is bullsh-" Vera started. She was interrupted when the pastor flicked some water at her. "What was that?"

"Holy water," the pastor said. "Satan, I rebuke thee. Satan, I rebuke thee."

"I'm not Satan," Vera stated. With a lightning-fast motion, she grabbed the water from his hands – a 16-ounce bottle of Glacial Paradise filtered water with 'Blessed on 7/11' printed on the side. She didn't know much about holy water, but it looked like regular bottled water. She lifted the bottle and guzzled the whole thing down. "I'm not Satan," she said again. "What else will satisfy you?"

"You can say the Apostles' Creed with me," he said slowly. But the pastor's heart rate was way up and he had the look of a shaken man. Vera drinking his blessed water had rocked his core. "If you will say it, and if you'll reject Satan... well, then maybe there are things in this world that I just don't understand. Will you say it with me?"

"Sure."

Pastor Mooney got to his knees and said the creed, and Vera knelt across the coffee table from him and repeated after him: I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ his only Son, our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Spirit... and so on. The whole creed without bursting into flame or fleeing in terror. She also didn't mean it. Verne had been drifting away from the church for years, had never been nearly as firm in his faith as his parents, and now to Vera, these were just words. Maybe that's why she could say them without feeling the vampire repulsion to holy power... but she also felt like a fraud. And if fraud was what it took to get her family back, it was a price she was willing to pay. And when the pastor clasped Vera's hands while holding a cross and had her reject Satan with him, it felt like a childish game and she played along at first. She didn't know if God was real or if Satan existed... she'd seen no evidence for or against. But she was pretty sure Abaddon was real, and when she rebuked Satan, she secretly rebuked Him instead, and that felt pretty good. It felt good to say it in front of everybody, and when she opened her eyes, the pastor was smiling and Vera smiled back.

"That felt good, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Vera said, not untruthfully.

"What about you, Lisa?"

Lisa shifted uneasily, glancing toward her parents. "I'm… um, I'm not Methodist."

"We're Baptists," Mrs. Mulberry clarified.

"That's just fine. Our sects have their differences, but they aren't so big… did you find anything objectionable about the creed I had Verne say?"

"Not really," Mark Mulberry said. "But if it's all the same, I think I'd rather you do the Lord's Prayer."

The pastor scratched at his beard. "I suppose that'll work. Will you kneel with me, Lisa?"

Lisa did, though she was clearly uncomfortable with it. Pastor Mooney started: Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name… Lisa repeated the words back haltingly, increasingly agitated. She trailed off half-way through 'daily bread' and rose to her feet, fists clenched.

"You know what? I don't have to prove myself to anybody." She looked to her parents. "Don't you realize how fucked up this is, making me prove I'm not evil?"

"Lisa, please," her mother said.

"No. I'm sorry, but fuck this. I'm out," she said, and she grabbed her purse and stalked off.

"Lisa, wait!" Vera said. She zoomed over to the door, looking back to see the others staring at her, mouths agape at her little flash of speed. They'd get over it. "I'm sorry, you guys, but Lisa's been through a lot. Next time try not to come on so fucking strong."

Vera stepped out into the night and raced down the avenue, looking for Lisa.

+++++

<I just want to be alone for a bit, Lisa messaged - which made it just about impossible to find her. At nighttime, a vampire had far more options for private hideouts than regular humans. They could leap fences, scale buildings, scramble up trees, and survive just about any fall. If Lisa didn't want to be found, she wasn't going to be found.

<Ok. Let me know if I can do anything, Vera messaged back.

<Ok. Thanks for understanding.

Vera walked back toward her apartment. It was almost an hour on foot, but she didn't have anywhere she needed to be or possess any worry about walking the streets alone at night. Barring other vampires or supernatural beings unknown to her, Vera was the most dangerous thing anyone might run into in Palmetto City, strolling through the summer night in her khaki shorts, peasant blouse, and little leather sandals. She took those sandals off and walked barefoot, shuffling off the walkway and into the cool grass of Dogwood Park, climbing to the top of a little outcropping of rock and then staring up at the waning moon. She wondered whether Lisa was somewhere nearby doing the exact same thing.

What had been up with Lisa, anyway? All she had to do was say the stupid words to placate the grown-ups and they'd have been scot free. There were sure to be other issues to muddle through, but the opening overtures of basic civility were a huge step in the right direction. But Lisa had stormed out in the middle of the Lord's Prayer. Why?

Vera thought she knew why.

She thought back to the little blue-green tip remaining on Gloria's Triune amulet - one of them was sworn to Abaddon, at least partly, and that one was clearly Lisa. Where Vera could go along with religious pomp in the same way any agnostic might, Lisa was metaphysically bound to a demon and couldn't commit to anything, no matter how half-heartedly, that might run afoul of that bond. Now, the bond didn't appear to be all that strong. Lisa had gotten half-way through the Lord's Prayer, and probably could have gotten farther with a little encouragement. But her greater affinity was for the demon she'd sacrificed a human life to. Maybe even greater than her affinity for Vera.

Vera hopped down from the rock and continued walking, passing a pair of drifters who thought they were being sneaky in settling down for the night in the park. It struck Vera as incredibly dangerous – without a home to keep them safe, anybody could sneak up and feed on them as they slept… she shook off the thought. She wasn't even in bloodlust, but such thoughts still occasionally came unbidden. Vampires had some strange and horrifying instincts. To wit: Vera was, she realized, walking in the opposite direction from her apartment. She was walking toward East Palmetto, in the direction of Twin Boughs.

It was strange that she'd even thought of that. There was plenty else in East Palmetto - it was a nice neighborhood with plenty of upscale retail, million-dollar brownstone condos, and the few old federal-style historical buildings that had survived from the Reconstruction era. Yet she found herself walking to Twin Boughs Methodist Church and soon thereafter stood across the street and stared up at its stately brick edifice and the two twin steeples that dominated its profile. Despite the late hour, there were still a few lights on in the church and Vera decided to go in on a lark, just to see if she could.

Vera waited for the crosswalk, took her time ambling across the street, and crept right through the side door. Most of the doors had been locked, mind you. It was the fourth door she'd tried, the door to the mailroom and loading area. She stepped inside and felt not a twinge of unwelcomeness. How could she be unwelcome? The entrance even had a welcome mat. She roamed down the church's business wing, past the financial office and the assistant pastor's office, and then up the stairs toward Mooney's office, her eyesight more than adequate in the dim light, her footsteps eerily quiet in the empty church. She could make audible footfalls if she wanted to, but Vera's normal gait made almost no sound whatsoever, even to her vampire ears. The creeping about reminded her of the several youth group overnights she'd had there as a teenager.

Naturally, they'd been supposed to stick to the corridor with all of the classrooms, but as soon as Mr. Pike had dozed off, the youth group wandered out to the rest of the church, exploring practically every square inch that wasn't locked down. They'd gone into the deacon's office and discovered that she had a case of communion wine back there – not the grape juice they had at service – and they'd taken turns swigging what was, in retrospect, not very good wine. But they hadn't known any better and, if Mrs. Hamel had noticed, they never suffered any blowback from the one bottle of wine shared between nine kids. They'd even gone up to the pastor's office, though they'd only been able to get to the little secretarial area, as the inner office was locked. But, approaching the office that night, Vera saw that the door was cracked open and the light was on. From all the way down the hallway, she could hear Pastor Mooney inside talking on his phone.

"It was one of the craziest dang things I've ever seen. You know the Vera boy, right? Well he's got himself involved in some I-don't-know-what, and his girlfriend's even worse off. I mean, I've always assumed that demons were real because they're in scripture, but I think I might have actually seen one today."

Vera heard a woman's voice on the other end, but she was still too far away to make it out. Presumably, Felicity Mooney, the pastor's wife. "Yeah," the pastor said. "Well… no, no horns or anything like that. More like seductive young women… yeah, both of them, even the boy… … yes, dear, so far as I know, all of him. I'm getting my book on exorcisms."

The pastor continued: "No, I don't know if it will work. To be safe, I'm going to advise the parents to sever all contact with the two of them. I couldn't live with myself if those two did something horrible and I didn't do anything to stop it. The least I can do is provide good counsel…"

The pastor was going to recommend her parents and Lisa's sever all contact - and knowing Vic Vera, he'd almost certainly comply and strongarm Ashley into doing likewise. That just wouldn't do. Vera crept closer. She could hear the pastor shuffling about his office, opening a secured cabinet with a key and putting the key back in the little drawer beneath his computer's keyboard and behind something plastic. Vera was close enough to make out the voice on the other end now

"…worry about your own safety, too. But I know you better than to ask you, dear. You'll be home soon?" Felicity replied.

"I'll be late, but not too late," the pastor said. "See you in a bit, hon."

As he terminated the call, Vera crept through the outer doorway, through the little secretarial area, and up to the half-open door to Pastor Mooney's office. Inside, the pastor poured himself one and a half fingers of scotch and shook a few pills from a medical bottle onto his palm. He tossed the pills into his mouth and gulped them down with about half of the liquor. The rest he swirled in the cup and sat heavily in his swivel chair. A thrill shivered down Vera's spine and, without much of a plan as to what she was doing, Vera crept through the inner door and right up to the pastor's desk.

"I was hoping for something more salacious than Percocet and scotch," Vera said.

"Sweet tapdancing Christ!" Mooney exclaimed, almost falling out of his chair. He wavered to his feet, squaring his shoulders. His expression was half-way between confused and angry. "Verne?! What in the bejesus are you doing here?"

"Vera," she said. "And I was just looking around, dredging up old memories. I didn't think anybody would be here… but, voila, here you are. Some coincidence, isn't it?"

The pastor lifted his phone and started to dial. "You shouldn't be here. I'm calling the poli-"

Before Mooney could even finish the sentence, Vera zipped across the room and plucked the phone from his hand, placing it on the far side of his desk. The pastor gasped and, disbelief in his eyes, reflexively reached to grab it again. Vera clamped her hand around his wrist and held him put, her grip utterly unbreakable as far as somebody like Mooney was concerned. He was almost twice her size and it didn't make a bit of difference. Vera frowned, realizing that she'd just escalated the situation further than she'd have liked. But the pastor had forced her hand, and now Vera was going to see it through.

Panic rose in Pastor Mooney's voice. "Verne… Vera… if you're in there, I need you to try to fight it… I need you to listen to me."

"Sorry, pastor, but this is me now. And new me needs help… and, seeing as how you're the one who's got these bigoted and superstitious ideas in everybody's head, how you're the one trying to drive a wedge between me and my parents, you're going to help me whether you want to or not."

"Vera, please don't… ah!"

Vera pulled the pastor's hand to her mouth and nipped him on the wrist, the blood welling up dark and rich. She didn't drink much of it, though… just enough to satisfy. Instead of making a meal of the pastor, as she felt he deserved, she gave him a taste of the yellow venom and a decent helping of the red… Pastor Mooney was going to be her first real familiar.

OvidLemma

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