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The stone floor clicked softly under the weight of Father Alexander Anderson's prowling footsteps, his silver blades reflecting the light from underneath the priest's cassock. An eerie croon filled the room, emanating from his mouth as his deranged green eyes flashed beneath the frames of his round glasses, his teeth glimmering in a twisted grin.
"Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and for thy possession, the ends of the earth. Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron. Thou shalt dash them in pieces, like a potter’s vessel," he purred, pacing slowly forward, his towering body bent forward in a predatory, almost wolfish lean. “Be wise now therefore, ye kings. Be admonished, ye judges of the earth…”
Dark red droplets of vampire blood rained from his blades with each footstep, staining the dark fabric of his cassock. The thick splatter coated him in the essence of death, and Anderson reveled in it, knowing that each drop exacted justice for centuries of terror.
Scripture rolled off his tongue, smooth and tinged with danger, "Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. Kiss the son lest he be angry, and ye perish in the way, though His wrath be kindled but a little.”
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