II
II
Agnes woke up to a familiar sight. It was the ceiling of the bedroom in which she'd lived since she was five, back when the church had first took her in. "I'm… ow."
When she tried to get up, she flinched. A sharp pain went through her shoulder. As her hand instinctively touched where it ached, she felt a neatly wrapped bandage around it.
"Someone treated my wounds?"
Cautiously, she stood. The sun, now high in the sky, shone through the curtains. She had been asleep for a long time. Her recollection of what had happened after the vampire's claws dug into her shoulder was fuzzy. The only thing she could remember was blood spurting into the mist, and a dark figure standing far to the side.
She tilted her head as she pondered what had happened. Then, she heard something. It was a faint.
Agnes stepped out to the dark hallway.
She heard a grinding sound come from the chapel. She peeked between the slightly opened doors, but couldn't see anything other than the crucifix and the pipe organ against the wall.
No.
"H-he's?!"
Sunlight came through from the stained glass windows, showering a blond man in radiant colors.
He was young. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties. His tightly sculpted muscles were tense as he stood on his right hand, his left hand held out parallel to the ground, holding that staff of his. His right hand pumped up and down in a determined rhythm, his chin almost touching the ground, then he pushed high up into the air again. He did this repeatedly.
"Nine hundred ninety, nine hundred ninety-one You're up already? How are you feeling?" the man asked.
"Eh?!" Agnes stepped back in surprise; her back hit the wall. She winced at the shock to her shoulder.
"Nine hundred ninety-two, nine hundred ninety-three… Watch out. You shouldn't be moving around just yet. Your wounds might open up." The young man continued his pushups as he warned the teary-eyed girl.
Agnes finally noticed the countless scars all over his body. They looked deep, like the scars were made by swords. But it was strange to see that both of his forearms had no markings, but were smooth as a baby's skin
Then she realized she'd been staring at a man's body the entire time.
Agnes covered her eyes and asked, "Who are you?!"
"Nine hundred ninety-nine, one thousand. Done." The young man dipped his body lower than before, then pushed off to stand upright. It was a tireless and graceful move. After wiping the sweat off his upper body, he put on his black cloak.
Agnes startled in disbelief. "A priest's cloak?! S-so, that means you are ?"
"My name is Hugue. I'm a wandering priest," the young man replied pleasantly as he carefully fixed his attire. "I was assigned by Rome to investigate the murders that happened last week. Sister
Agnes, since you were the only survivor of this incident, I have a few questions to ask you.. Oh, and I prepared breakfast over there. Would you care to discuss the matter while we eat?"
The meal wasn't luxurious, but nonetheless, it must have taken some time to prepare. In fact, it was a typical homemade breakfast often served in the Netherlands.
"I didn't mean to intrude, but I used your kitchen to cook this. I hope you can forgive me," he said.
"O-of course! "Agnes shook her head. Come to think of it, how many days have passed since I ate a hearty meal? After everyone was killed, she couldn't bring herself to make food. Besides, she really hadn't had much of an appetite since then
"What's wrong, Sister Agnes? You're not going to eat?" he asked.
"Eh? When she turned to see his worried look, she realized that tears had welled up in her eyes. Hastily, she rubbed them away. "No no, I'm okay." Agnes shook her head again and sniffed. "I thought about everyone… I'm sorry, Father."
Hugue looked at the troubled girl's face, not knowing what to say; he placed his thick hand on her shoulder. "It was really unfortunate for all of those people to die," he said softly. "You started living in this church when you were a child, right?"
"Yes. My father used to be a knight. He came from a noble family . .Are you familiar with the Watteau clan, Father?"
After drawing deep into his memory, he replied, "Somewhat."
The Watteau clan was a legendary noble family of the Netherlands; they'd employed many mercenaries. The clansmen kept the position of Chief Inspector for the Four-City Alliance over the generations, and subsequently held the largest military power over a government that had no actual national military. As a result, the Watteau family had great influence in political affairs. But that was all in the past. Nine years ago, in Bruges, a large-scale vampire attack annihilated the whole clan. The young nun's parents probably died with the rest of her clansmen.
"That night, I'd happened to catch a cold and was sent to my wet nurse's home. But when I heard about the tragedy, I was heartbroken. My parents and everyone I knew were killed back then; I was so sad . but I thought that it would be the last time I'd feel like that " She couldn't hold back her grief any longer. Tears rolled down Agnes' cheeks. "It . happened again !"
"I will avenge their deaths," he replied with conviction. "I will avenge the deaths of those who were close to you. Please leave that up to me But before I fulfill this promise, please tell me, Sister Agnes You returned to the scene right after it happened. Did you see anyone suspicious around Oude Kerk?" He handed her a napkin.
The girl, after dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose, shook her head. "I didn't see anyone . I told the police that several times already."
"Yes, I went over their reports. But if you hadn't seen anyone, then the pieces just don't add up In other words, why would they attack you last night?" he asked.
"They?" Agnes looked up to see a picture that Hugue had placed before her. There was a man in the center of the fuzzy photo. He was large and had evil eyes and a hooked nose.
"Count of Amsterdam Carrel van derVerf—a vampire who controls the Amsterdam underground. Last night, he was the one who attacked. So, in essence, this vampire was after you," he said.
The nun froze, staring at the photo. "Wh-why? Why me?!"
"I don't know. At first, I thought they wanted to get rid of the witness. But if that were so, then they wouldn't have tried to kidnap you. This is my deduction, but no, I won't go into it." He stopped.
"Umm, I don't think that last night was connected to " Should I say something that is probably unrelated to all this? But, it's the
only thing I can think to talk about. "That night, when I returned to the church, I went past a man." "A man?"
"Yes. He looked like a noble with brown hair and mauve eyes, and he wore a gray coat Oh, and he had some sort of flower tattoo on the back of his hand. But, if he was the murderer, then he should've killed me right there," she said.
The priest hugged his metal staff, lost in his thoughts. Soon enough, he looked up to Agnes. "Thank you. That helps But you need to leave this town," he said.
"Eh?" the young girl uttered in surprise. The priest warned her. "If you come with me to the station, you can make the express train. You must go to Rome tonight. The Vatican will keep you in protective custody until this case is solved. Oh, and when you get there, please help them draw the face of that man and send it to me," he ordered.
"N-no Father, please let me kill those people, too! I promise not to get in your way! I want to kill them myself. I want to avenge all those deaths! Please!" she pleaded.
"No. You can't do that, Agnes." Hugue shook his head. "Until this case is solved, you must hide. It's for your own safety's sake." "No! What's good for me is to—"
"Listen to me, Agnes," he interrupted coldly. His long fingers grabbed Agnes' sleeve. On the back of his hand, she saw a small tattoo—not quite a number or a letter.
The priest reasoned, "Once you stain your hands with someone's blood, no matter how much you despise them, there's no going back. 'A man who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.' Once you take someone's life, no matter how bad they were, the time will come when you will be hunted. You must keep using your sword, even in self-defense, and so you commit more sins. Eventually, though, one day you'll be killed by another's blade . That is the way of the sword. I don't want you to fall into that trap."
"Th-that's not fair!"Agnes yelled. She kicked her chair away. "Fine, I won't depend on you anymore, Father . I just can't forgive them!"
"Wait, where are you going?" he asked.
"It's none of your business! "Agnes snapped, turning her back on Hugue. "I'll avenge their deaths myself! Just leave me alone!"
"Don't do that. I can't allow it," Hugue said sternly. He reached out to grab her shoulder, but his fingers slipped. To be precise, his fingers jerked as if someone had pulled his arm away from her. "Damnation, not now!" Hugue muttered at his shaking hand. "Calm down, you. ."
The young man, though he was so suave and collected in front of those vampires last night, was gritting his teeth now, trying to avoid sheer panic. But it had nothing to do with Agnes.
She took the opportunity to flee from the church.
"Wait, Agnes!" he called out.
She went out into the hallway. Seconds later, the wall exploded.
A fist punched through the wall and slammed her against the opposite side of the haUway.
"Hello, Sister." A shadow walked through the gaping hole and approached the breathless nun.
Agnes, squinting, struggled against the thick arm that held her. "An armored suit!"
A metal giant, over three meters high, had scooped up the immobile girl with one arm. It was a burly, swollen figure—an armored suit; a relic salvaged from pre-Armageddon technology. Simply put, it was an exoskeleton of armor.
"Agnes!" Hugue yelled.
"Good morning, Father You really took good care of us last night." The suit's eyes glared back at the priest as he ran into the hallway. The voice ringing through the audio speakers sounded high-pitched and familiar. "Because of you, Carrel really chewed me out… Hey, drop that stinking weapon." The suit pointed at the staff with one hand, and tightened its hold on the girl with the other. "Hurry up and drop it. Otherwise, the girl will be crushed."
"D-don't, Father! Don—hrk!" Agnes choked. Her face reddened, and her lips started to turn blue from lack of oxygen.
"Okay," Hugue said in a low voice; his staff hit the floor, producing a loud, clear twang. "Don't touch the girl."
Agnes stared down at the staff as it rolled on the ground.