The Vampire and The Monk

The vampire, Vladimir Constantinescu sat with his back to the wall behind the farthest from the door and most poorly lit table in the tavern. Only one small candle flickered and it did so timidly.

Brother Andelko Jadranka leaned into the candlelight and whispered, “Something must be done. It must not be allowed to continue. Eleven children have disappeared from the orphanage. It is the work of a demon, I fear.”

“Not a demon.” Vladimir said flatly, " but a very evil mortal."

“You know who it is then?” The candle flame flickered in the monk’s eyes.

“Look to your Abbot,” the vampire answered. “He has forsaken his vow of chastity. He feeds, but not on blood as do my kind.”

The monk drew a single sharp breath and rose from the table. “It cannot be true!” He cried.

“But it is,” Vladimir reassured him. “We above all would know.”

The monk stormed out of the tavern without another word.

The vampire, Vladimir Constantinescu stared after him and smiled. How easy, he thought, to sow the seeds of anarchy.

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