On the outside the building looked like an ancient church, which indeed it was. Its gothic appertures stood harsh against the darkness that surrounded the place. At first when the eye looked at the edifice it would nag at a person, trying to figure out what was off about the place. If someone were astute they would notice the empty steeple where the cross had been ripped from its longtime perch. What is a church without a cross? All religious symbols had been carved from their places of power, this was a different kind of church.

Eternal Church.

It was a plaque hoisted up beside the wide double doors that led into the santuary. Something ominous whispered on the winds of this place, a haunted sort of feeling like voices from beyond tha grave. Yet the pople filing into the cathedral were well dressed, clean, and calm. Going through those doors the eyes would be startled, blinded, at first by the sheer white light that poured down from above. It was an attempt to make up for the fact that this particular church only opened after dark. Pews of dark wood gleamed in that light. Everything had a sterile sort of look to it, which was rare for a place so old and well appointed, but there were plenty of servants of the Church in the shadows. People whose sole purpose in life was to see that the Church was well appointed and beautiful in its cold clinical manner.

As the crowd in the pews quietened something pressed at the air. An unseen precense filled the room with power that rolled across the skin and seemed to harken to the soul. This power was what made the masses still until each and every one in the crowd sat bolt upright in their seats without a sound. Not even the small sounds of adjusting bottoms and fiddling hands could be heard. When the door at the side of the church opened and the priests filed in you could have heard a pin-drop.

There were five of them then. All nearly identical in appearance. Quite obviously Roman by birth with dark hair and patrician features, their bodies cloaked in holy raiments as then moved towards the seats on the dais. Each of them moved like they floated above the ground rather than walking on it. Coming across the stage two sat in chairs to the left and two to the right, but the man in the middle stepped up to the ornate pulpit and stood a moment with his head cast down. It was this figure who caused the quiet to pulse through the room, for he was a creature of deep inner silence.

When Father Casimir finally looked up his eyes glowed a dull eerie rust red in the brightness of the lights. Like two hot coals they shone with their own inner light as he looked out at the crowd. Hands moved to wrap skeletal fingers around the edge of the pulpit. He gripped that edge like it was a life line, and his fingers were so pale that in the white lights they looked like naked bone gleaming.

Like a signal going off everyone in the crowd went to their knees on the lowered pads provided behind each pew, just like they would in any Catholic church. With the congregation of the undead gathered before him he smiled a secretive sort of smile, one of possession and demonic intent. Those burning eyes went from one to the other of his flock, and each time they fell upon a mortal a small spark of his power bit at the air. When he began to speak his voice echoed, booming in the enclosed space. The mortals faces wore a pained expression, and that too was good. He wanted them to suffer.

"I am he that liveth, and was dead; and behold, I am alive forevermore and have the keys of hell and death. Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life."

As his words died the echoes followed and he felt the crowd stiffen like people waiting for a blow to fall to them.

"I quote from the book of the Revelations, and speak to you who know the truth path of salvation. Hellfire will come for those who do not repent for mortality and find the eternal love of God. For his love is the blood, and the blood is eternity."

The four priests at his back rose as one in a sweep of graceful movements, and in their synchronisity they looked like twins. Each held in his hands a Golden Cup and a pure white cloth. With these items held tenderly they moved forward to stand just at the edge of where the pulpit area met the beginning of the crowd. Standing and waiting as the audience flinched and writhed beneath the press of power that was brought on the wind of Casimirs breath.

"Our city has begun to crawl with non-believers. Creatures of cursed blood who seek to damn us with their own filth! We must be warriors of virtue my people. We must seek out these unholy scourges and cleanse our city of their evil. Only when we have shown our faith shall we be forgiven for opening the gates of our city. Come to the Cup of Eternity, and take offering, make your solemn oath to be faithful in this fight against darkness."

Casimirs skeletal hand motioned slightly and like puppets the men and women came to their feet and began to file into the aisle, shuffling towards the front to take the holy offering from the other priests. His head nodded slowly as he watched them move. Eyes with hawk-like clarity caught sight of a man near the back who was trying to shuffle away. Lifting his arm he pointed one damning finger at the gentleman.

"Clarence Giovani."

The name fell on the air like sharp gunshots and his power whipped through the crowd. The man turned with fright on his face and eyes wide in a panic. Casimir motioned with a curling of his finger for the man to come and stand before the pulpit. Clarence shook with fright, his body trembling as he forced himself to move. The holy Father could not be denied, but it was clear that this man was a creature of weakness that wanted only to run. It made the dark haired priest frown. How many of his flock were becoming weakened so? How many of his number were turning from the righteous and holy path?

As Clarence stood beneath the pulpit Casimir stared down at him and let his burning red eyes fix with the mans. Darkness burst from him like a living entity, wrapping itself around the man and lifting him off his feet until the poor immortal fool hovered on his back two feet off the ground. Stepping out from behind the pulpit Casimir moved towards him, and came to stand at the side of the man who was still shaking like a leaf right there in the air. All around the crowd shook with hunger and rage.

"Why do you try to deny the bounty of the Offering? What are you hiding?"

Fingers like exposed bone reached to touch the mans face so he could meet his eyes. Casimir could suck the truth from a man and bespell him at a glance, even another vampire such as this. When their eyes met he swarmed the young Clarences mind and saw vivid truth of what the boy had been up to. Bedding down with unholy filth, chasing after some mixed blooded animal. The womans face flashed in his mind and he suddenly knew her name.

"You have sinned my son. And now you must be given to God."

Casimir stepped back and the boy was shaking his head hard and fast and trying to scream out his innocence, but Casimir knew. Opening his power to his congregation he let them all see what this traitor had done. The images flashed through their minds like the Father had put them there with a video camera.

"In the name of our father I call the loyal to take the offering. Cleanse this sinner."

The four priests who held the Golden Cups stepped back. This night the offering would come from a different font. Casimir was moving back to the pulpit, and the press of people kept a path clear for him, none of the flock wanting to touch the esteemed Father. In the church the sound of a scream shook the air as teeth bit into the man who hung in the air like some unerected crucifix. Climbing the stairs to the pulpit Casimir heard the sound of ripping fabric, cloth being torn back and out of the way so they could feed from everywhere at once. When he finally reached the pulpit and looked down at his children they were a writhing mass of frenzy. Off to the sides the humans stood bespelled and confused. Sheep. They were all merely sheep.

It only took minutes for them to drain the man dry, leaving his body torn and still in the air. The four priests set aside their cups and went to take up the body. They would see that the filth was wiped clean, staked out near the graves to be kissed by the suns unholy kiss. As one mind the congregation turned to look at their Holy Father and he eyed them with the look of a predtor.

"Find the Jezebel who led our brother astray and give her salvation."

His head bowed and the congregants filed back out into the dark night. Some took to the air, some moved to vehicles that would transport them, but the church would find the woman who had caused this disarray. They would find her, and when morning came the policia would have a body to cart away. There was no room in this world for such filth. Soon, he promised, soon they would increase their number and multiply as the God said. Once again the city would swarm with their numbers again as it had in the days of before The Cleansing by the Tarakians. Once again the children of the night would rule this world, and he would see that it was done. The streets would run with the outcasts blood, and there wasn't a think the gypsies or the Cult could do about it.