Blood and Madness: A Vampire Quest

School Troubles 3:

[] Full Confessional at the Vatican

"Mary, are you baptized?" you asked quietly, your tone steady but probing.

Her head tilted, confusion clouding her face. "We both are," she replied, her voice edged with unease. "Why? Don't know about vampire Jesus over there?"

"Bite me," Paul muttered from across the room.

"You first, pretty boy," she shot back with a smirk.

You held up a hand to stop the bickering, your expression turning more serious. "In the Catholic tradition?" you pressed.

Mary nodded. "Yeah."

"When was the last time you went to confession?" you asked, a sly grin beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth. You could see the realization dawning on her, the slow recognition of where this line of questioning was heading.

Her shoulders stiffened. "A few months… before Mom and Dad died," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "I haven't really—well, you know, haven't been able to go since then."

You gave her a knowing look. "Well, I think it's high time you made a confession."

Before Mary could respond, the low rumble of engines reached your ears. You didn't have to see it to know what was coming, but when the convoy came into view, you stepped closer to the window. The Sea People always loved their shows of force, projecting grandeur to mask their weaknesses. Their vehicles were polished to an unnatural gleam, each one bristling with weapons, banners snapping in the breeze.

You took a slow, calming breath, your mind already working. "Stay within the home lines, my dear," you murmured to Mary. "I have an idea—something you'll enjoy, and it'll give you a little break for spring break."

Mary frowned but nodded, her gaze flicking uneasily between you and the approaching convoy.

The lead vehicle came to a halt, and the door opened. Out stepped Sarah Wilkinson, every inch the parody of a modern executive. She wore a sharp blazer, skirt tight enough to be audacious but just shy of indecent, and dagger-like heels that clicked against the pavement. Her crimson hair was perfectly styled, and her yellow eyes gleamed with an unnatural light that screamed danger to anyone with sense. She exuded confidence, but it was the smug kind, the kind that begged for a challenge.

"Old man," she called, her voice dripping with condescension as she strode toward the sidewalk but didn't dare step closer. "Norton now, is it? You know why I'm here."

"Yes," you replied, your tone calm and clipped, "to hear the terms of my ward's challenge. Spare me the theatrics. You're threatening them, and by all rights, I should destroy you where you stand."

Her smile widened, her fangs glinting in the light. She reveled in the threat. "And we should have destroyed you long ago," she purred. Her gaze shifted to Mary, her yellow eyes narrowing with predatory interest. "But look at you, still here. Still playing your games. Tell me, girl—"

"My name is Mary," she snapped, stepping forward, anger flashing in her eyes."Bitch,"

"Foul language," Sarah admonished, her tone dripping with mockery. Her eyes roved over Mary appraisingly. "Such a wonderful body… Why haven't you turned her yet? I'm sure you would—"

"For all my past sins," you interrupted, your voice low and steady, "I am no monster. Not anymore."

Sarah's smile faltered for just a second before returning, sharper and more venomous than before. "We'll see about that, Norton," she said, her voice a dangerous whisper. "Soon enough."

"As the challenger of the great and noble order of the Sea People," Sarah announced, her voice echoing with an air of rehearsed grandeur, "I challenge the Ward of Norton the Elder to a trial by challenge. The challenge shall be named by his ward, Mary, and completed by both parties under the terms agreed."

She let her words linger, a confident smirk curving her lips. Her piercing yellow eyes swept over Mary, then shifted to you with a glint of condescension. "Tell me, Norton," she purred, "what does this child seek to challenge us with?"

You stepped forward, calm and composed, a smile of quiet amusement playing on your face. "Mary," you said, your voice steady and deliberate, "give your challenge."

Mary took a deep breath, her hand brushing the worn handle of her hammer at her side as she stepped forward. Her voice rang clear, unwavering, carrying a weight that made even Sarah's confidence falter. "This challenge," she began, "I speak for Saint Michael and the angels, and for my God, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. I call for a full confession of all sins, past and present, to be conducted on the holy ground of the Vatican."

The world seemed to still as her words settled, the weight of them cutting through the tension like a blade.

Mary continued, her gaze locked on Sarah's now-stiffening expression. "By a priest ordained by the Church of Saint Peter, and a servant of God, who will hear all sins. Every transgression. Of life…" She paused for emphasis, her voice sharpening, "and unlife."

For the first time, Sarah's composed facade cracked. Her confident smirk faded, and a shadow of something far less secure crossed her face. She took a half-step back, her eyes narrowing as if she hadn't heard correctly. "What?" she hissed, her voice dropping an octave, losing its usual elegance.

Mary tilted her head, her smile sweet but laced with steel, just as you taught her. "You heard me. Confession. Every sin you've committed, every vile act, spoken aloud in a place where even you can't twist the truth. Do you have something to fear, Sarah?"

Sarah's jaw tightened, and a flicker of panic danced in her glowing eyes before she forced a cold smile. "You think this is a clever game, child?" she spat, her voice brimming with barely restrained anger. "A vampire—confessing—on consecrated ground? Are you mad? I will die."

Mary shrugged, her calm demeanor only making Sarah bristle more. "Not mad," she replied evenly. "Just confident in my challenge."

You stepped forward, your grin widening as you spoke, addressing Sarah with a mocking civility. "The terms are clear, and the challenge is fair, Sarah. You said it yourself—this is a trial by challenge. Surely a woman of your… experience… can manage a simple confession on holy ground. Or is there something you're afraid to admit? That there is a power that even you cannot seduce with your power? That you cannot control."

Sarah's lips curled into a sneer, but her confidence was crumbling, her golden eyes flickering with something raw—fear. Her voice dropped into a venomous growl, low and dangerous. "You're playing with fire, Norton."

You met her gaze without flinching, a smile dancing on your lips. "And yet," you replied smoothly, "it seems to be you who's getting burned. Do you accept the challenge, or will you face the disgrace of forfeiture?"

What does she choose:D3 => 1

Her jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, you thought she might lash out in desperation. But then, with a sharp intake of breath, she straightened, forcing her face into an expression of cold resolve. "I accept your challenge, Mary, Ward of Norton!" she declared, her voice loud enough to echo across the street.

But no proclamation could mask the truth. You saw it—the crack in her armor, the flicker of terror in her eyes. The fear gripping her was a pale shadow of what so many victims had felt in their last moments at her hands, and for the first time, it was Sarah who stood on the edge of an abyss.

"One week," she said curtly, her tone clipped. Her gaze lingered on Mary for a moment longer, but whatever insult or threat she might have had died on her lips. She turned sharply, her heels clicking against the pavement as she retreated.

Without another word, she slipped into the backseat of her sleek black car, her face a mask of anger and unease. The convoy roared to life, engines growling as the vehicles rolled forward in a carefully choreographed display of power. Yet, for all their polished grandeur, they couldn't conceal the stench of retreat.

You watched the taillights disappear down the road, exhaling slowly as the tension began to dissipate. Turning to Mary, you gave her a firm nod. "Well done," you said quietly. "She'll spend the next week trying to figure out how to weasel her way out of this. But she accepted—she's bound to the rules now."

Mary's hammer rested against her side, but her grip on it loosened as she let out a shaky laugh. "She looked like she wanted to bolt right there," she said. "Guess even vampires aren't ready to face their sins."

You smiled, though your expression remained thoughtful. "This isn't over yet. We still have to get you to Rome. and as much as I think a magical teleportation is in order… I'm a little rusty with living people, so we might have to… go by the mortal way."

Mary smiled. "Will she try to kill me?"

"Oh most certinaly." You replied. "Kids, gather around, Old Man Norton is going to take you to Rome… I hope my Italian is still good, it's been two hundred years."

"So what happens if we fail?" She asked. "Or she fails?"

"If we fail, we all die. Simple as that. well not me, they would just bury me in the desert for a century, or have me swear alligence to them for some... unspecified amount of time." You replied.

You then smiled. "If she fails... oh then I can do a great deal of things to those Bastard sea people. A Great deal."
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How do you Travel to Rome?:

[]Commericial: Lets not do anything silly. First Class is nice, and knowing your luck, you won't have to fight to keep the ocean from swallowing you whole like the last time you traveled across the ocean. Dracula can go fuck himself for that nonsense. Why would he make it hard for vampires to cross the Atlantic? The Prick! You do not want to cross the pacific!

[]Private: You still have some favors to call in. you just hope that those favors are still worth a damn.

[]Teleportation: Ah fuck it, the worst thing that will happen is her losing an arm, and you can just…reattach it with dark magic. It will be traumatic, but better than her dying.

AN: enjoy.