[i]Where are you going, Dad?

What are you doing up?

I heard a noise. Are you leaving?

...Yes. I am, sweet pea. I have important business. Something very important is happening in Middlesborough.

Middlesborough?

Yes.

...How long are you going to be there?

Just a few days, sweetie. At most. Your mother will take care of you.

...I wish you weren't going.

Me, too, sweet pea. Me, too. Now go back to bed. It's a school day tomorrow.
[/i]


[b][u]Clayton John[/u][/b]

Clayton John pulled slowly into the local church's parking lot. He'd heard it on the news. A young woman drained of blood found dead, and there was a known coven in the area that had "agreed" not to feast on the innocent anymore. But he knew that those fiends could not resist their own savage bloodlust, not without the help of the Holy Spirit. He opened up the car door, steadily stepped out and closed the door behind him. He made sure his scarf was secure and placed a black hat on his head. Glancing towards his glove department, Reverend John inwardly went through his inventory.

He had his bible on him, a canteen of potable water, and his cross. In the globe department his was looking at was his .357 revolver with silver bullets, some holy water, and a bag of unsalted pretzel sticks. In the trunk were some spare changes of clothes, his shotgun with silver pellets, and probably a football.

Rubbing his shoulders against the cold, Clayton surveyed the town around him and the church he wished to enter.

It was a quaint place, with older looking buildings and small streets. But as the grey clouds hung overhead, there was something ominious here. He could feel it in his bones.

Shoes clacking, arms swaying, Clayton made his way up the steps and to the front door of the church. It wasn't a Sunday, but the place shouldn't be locked. If all went well, Father Walter should be able to give him the sitrep of what was going on and they could get to work.

Clayton knew the place was a cathedral, not technically Christian, but when it came to matters like this, they were on the same side. No time for petty arguments now, although he was never into that sort of thing. A big waste of time when there were bigger things at work.

Even if no one was inside, he figured a quick prayer couldn't hurt. There were troubling times ahead, and he needed all the help he could get. Briefly knocking on the large wooden door, he pushed it open and closed it quietly behind him. There inside were rows of pews, a statue of Christ on the cross, and vaulted ceilings.

No sign of Father Walter, but that was to be expected. The place was mostly silent. 

He sat down in one of the pews and closed his eyes.

He thought about his family, his friends, vampires, if his team was going to win the next Sunday game, what kind of new barbecue grill he should get... he needed to clear his mind, so he turned his thoughts to Heaven, placing his palms together and kneeling forward.