Chapter 12: Chapter 12 – Forced Vacation

Raphael tossed his book on the floor and plopped down on his bed. He covered his eyes with his forearm and groaned in frustration. 

After the failed expedition, the bishop, a.k.a. his commanding officer, took one look at Raphael and ordered him to go off duty for two months. 

Two freaking months. 

The worst part was that they wanted him to gradually return to his post since he screwed up his shoulder badly, his doctor's words, not his. It appeared that the bishop believed the doctor's opinion more than Raphael, the owner of his own freaking body. 

Raphael had pleaded that he could still fight and would most likely need two if not one week off. 

Both Sam and Paul opposed Raphael's point and sided with the doctor. 

Traitors, the lot of them. 

So here he was, in his dorm, re-reading the Vampire Hunter Guide edition IV for the fifth time. He already memorized this book from cover to cover. 

He couldn't train. Hell, the bishop wouldn't even let him walk around town without guards. 

Raphael turned on his side. He only broke the bishop's order maybe like six times. He hardly needed babysitting. 

It was only noon. Did time always move this slowly? 

He closed his eyes. 

His eyebrows twitched every time the blasted birds chirped. 

A moment passed before he bolted up. 

The vampire. 

The vampire in that manor. 

The vampire in that manor in that blasted hole! 

"Shit, shit, shit." He got off the bed and began to pack his weapons before he stopped short. 

There was a vampire in that hole...right? Raphael furrowed his brows. He was second-guessing himself. There was no way he could have imagined all of this. 

He tried to recollect his memories.

He fell through the staircase. There was a woman chained to a wall. 

He didn't kill her. In fact, he fell asleep with her, still alive. 

Rubbing his forehead, his memories were a bit sloppy and spotty. However, he did pass out for two nights after his squad made it back to base, which was a testament to his amassed fatigue. 

Taking a sharp breath, he almost wished he had imagined all of this. But instead, he broke every single damn rule for hunting vampires. His hand hovered over the wooden stake. 

Even if he wanted to check, he couldn't because the bishop ordered Raphael to be watched. 

Tapping his thigh with his forefinger, he looked through his window. He was at least three stories high. 

Doable. 

As long as the bishop didn't catch wind of this, Raphael should be fine. 

He hoped. 

Besides, he was just going to collect information and dispose of a vampire. He didn't need his left shoulder for that. Hell, his job was already made easy, considering the vampire wanted to die, and she was already chained to the wall. 

He made a face. He couldn't afford another disciplinary hearing and strike on his record. The bishop did threaten to take away his license three strikes ago. It was best not to tempt fate. 

He sat back down on his bed. 

If he told Paul or Sam, maybe they could help him extract the information and help curb the bishop's anger. But, unfortunately, that old fart was too wound up for his own good; he should retire. 

After weighing his pros and cons, he decided to test the waters with his friends about the idea of going back to the manor. 

Later that night, at the mess hall, Sam and Paul dropped next to Raphael with their food tray. 

"Ugh, you need to get better soon, Raphael. I can't stand Talon's squad." Same whined before taking a mouthful of potato salad. 

Since Raphael, the captain of Squad 27, was down, his squad members would be temporarily assisting squads in charge of patrol. 

"Oh hush," Paul said. "You're being dramatic. It's not that bad."

"Well, why don't you partner up with Talo-"

"Pass," Paul said. 

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"Hey!"

Raphael cleared his throat. Paul and Sam stared at him in unison. "So, just out of curiosity."

Paul raised a brow. 

Raphael was being awkward. That was a bad start. He took a sip of water and put on a neutral mask. "I thought about what you said. With the pig, that is."

Paul only raised his brow higher.

"Okay, one of you guys has to explain this 'pig' incident to me. What's so special about this pig?" Sam asked. 

"Well, Paul insinuated that the vampires might have a different diet. Maybe, some of them like drinking pig's blood," Raphael explained. 

Sam snorted. "Yeah, highly unlikely."

"What's bringing this on?" Paul asked. 

Damn, Paul did not beat around the bush. Raphael nonchalantly bounced his fork between his thumb and forefinger. "If we find a vampire with a different diet, what would you do?"

"Capture it." 

"Experiment on it."

Paul and Sam answered at the same time. 

This time, Raphael raised a brow. "You wouldn't just kill it?"

"Are you kidding me? If we find an abnormal vampire, of course, we should experiment on it. Who knows, maybe we'll find more of their weaknesses." Sam said. 

Paul nodded in agreement. 

Raphael looked at his meatloaf. It was overcooked, and the outer edge was dry. He lost his appetite. 

"Makes sense," Raphael said. 

It didn't make sense. 

"Hey, are you okay, man?" Paul asked. 

Looking up from his food, Raphael shrugged with his one good shoulder. "I'm bored. I can't be active. Hell, they won't even let me patrol. What do you think?" 

Snorting, Sam shook his head. "Raph, you're the only one who complains about going on vacation."

"He's a workaholic," Paul said. 

"Yep." 

Their conversation soon returned to Sam complaining about Talon and how awful it was to patrol with him. 

After dinner, Raphael stared at his wooden ceiling. The same ceiling he slept under for the past fifteen years. 

He was uncomfortable. Not physically, no, it was more...internal. 

The vampire in the hole was hurt, and she easily cried out when in pain. 

It almost seemed ...human. 

The thought of that vampire being prodded and skinned alive churned his stomach. 

'Why? The vampires didn't show mercy when they killed the villagers.' He tried to reason with his emotions. But another thought intruded his argument. 'At least the vampires kill them. When have you seen them keep a human alive?'

Of course, he didn't know that. Every time he went to the vampires feeding ground, all the humans were dead. 

Closing his eyes, he heard the ghastly wail echoing in the back of his mind. 

He visited the abbey once. 

There was a vampire that looked no older than six. They pumped an assortment of toxins in them. Their skin turned a sickly yellow and purple, and the left side of its head bloated to an unnatural size. 

The scientists there didn't seem bothered in the slightest. 

Why would they be? These were monsters. Monsters didn't need compassion. Vampires were the virus infecting and destroying humankind. 

'Sir...may you please pray for me?' The female vampire's voice invaded his mind. 

Opening his eyes, he decided the abbey already had enough vampires for their research. It would not be detrimental to their cause if they didn't have this particular vampire.

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