The Bite of Vengeance

The Bite of Vengeance:
The Devil's Gift

CONNOR WOLF

Text copyright © Connor Wolf 2014

Design copyright © Hannah Purkiss 2014

All rights reserved.

Connor Wolf has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by electronic, mechanical or any other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying or recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publisher and Author. You must not circulate this book in any format.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, or you were not provided with a review copy by the Publisher or Author only, then please return to
rowanvalebooks.com
or our online distributors and purchase your own copy, as well as informing us of a potential breach of copyright. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

First published 2014

By Rowanvale Books

57, Brynllwchwr Road,

Loughor,

Swansea

SA4 6SQ

www.rowanvalebooks.com

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN:

e-Pub: 978-1-909902-25-1

Mobi: 978-1-909902-26-8

PDF: 978-1-909902-27-5

Acknowledgements

I would love to say a big thank you to all my friends and family, especially my parents, for their constant love of support over the countless hours it has taken to write this book.

The Beginning

‘Thank you, Father,' said an elderly villager as she walked past. ‘That was a wonderful service.'

‘Thank you,' the priest replied gratefully.

One by one, everyone filed out. A piercing silence pressed upon the church, broken only by the loud, echoing footsteps of a black robed priest as he marched up the aisle. Roconn Romano headed towards an intricately carved stone font, which was full of holy water. The priest stood over the bowl and watched the water ripple. He then took a minute to gaze around the church with its high arched ceiling and rows of benches. The flaming torches, placed in rusting metal sconces along the stone walls, created long shadows that flickered in the breeze; the large, wooden door had been left open at the other end of the building.

He walked towards a statue of Jesus which had been nailed to a large cross by the far window. Moonlight shone through the windows, casting beautiful shadows across the stone floor. He lifted his thick overcoat from a peg, which hung behind the cross, and draped it over his shoulders. Roconn turned on the spot and wandered towards the open door, extinguishing the torches as he went. The room grew steadily darker behind him. One last glance back as he stood in the church doorway ensured everything was taken care of for the night. He took a deep breath and strode out into the cold, closing the door behind him. Bowing his head, so as to stop the breeze from stinging his face, the priest wandered towards a small, black, metal gate. It creaked loudly as he opened it and walked out of the churchyard.

The moon shone brightly, illuminating the frozen path before him. Roconn lived in a small house with his wife and two well behaved children, on the outskirts of a small village called Greyton, close to the border of a vast, dense forest. The ground crunched under his feet as he trudged passed a cluster of thick bushes. In front of him, just off the path was a small house, dusted with snow. Roconn caught sight of his own reflection in the window. Edging closer, he scrutinized his aged face. It was tired and lined. A pair of dull blue eyes glared at him as his hair spun and danced in the wind.

Roconn was lost in thought. It seemed like only yesterday he was standing by the side of his own father and becoming a priest as his forefathers had done. After fifteen years, he had heard many say he looked just like him, and Roconn was pleased to hear some of his father's traits had been passed down. Roconn ran a hand through his greying hair. White flakes started to fall from the night sky and settle on the ground as Roconn plodded home.

After a few minutes the ground was covered in a thick layer of snow. Houses were smothered in white as the priest neared the edge of the forest. He heard an owl hooting in the distance, its prey hidden underground. Somewhere through the dense branches, a strangled cry erupted, sending a large number of bats flying in every direction. Roconn stopped just before he reached the garden outside his cottage; it looked unfamiliar in the snow. Roconn composed his face. It was set in a mask of horror, the sound of the cry repeating over and over in his mind. The temperature dropped further, causing Roconn's body to shiver violently.

He jogged the last few steps toward the wooden front door, grabbed the freezing metal handle, opened it, and crossed the threshold.

‘S..s..sorry I took so long getting home Maria, it s..s..started to snow and held m..m..me up,' Roconn stuttered through numb lips as he walked in, stomping his shoes.

‘Oh you look freezing! Come over here and warm yourself by the fire dear,' said Maria.

She pulled her husband towards a fire, which was set in a stone mantelpiece, and removed his overcoat. She hung it up near the fire to dry out. Roconn started to feel better. A metal tripod was placed above the fire, with a pan of hot water simmering on the top.

Though the cottage was simple and plain, to Roconn it was home.

‘Here you are, dear, this will warm you up a bit.' Maria smiled, handing Roconn a small dish of vegetable soup infused with herbs.

‘Thank you,' he replied.

Maria was a short, plump woman with brown, shoulder-length hair. It was held back in a pony-tail bya piece of string, which had been tied into an elegant bow. Her eyes were green and she had a small, round nose and a thin mouth. Her face, like Roconn's, was lined and tired. Maria wore a simple, white, cloth dress, a thick shawl and sandals, a gift from her husband.

Whilst he ate, Maria moved around the room, sweeping the floor with an old brush, her shadow flickering in the firelight.

‘How are the kids? I hope they've been behaving?' Roconn asked, referring to his children who were, at present, asleep in the other room.

‘Oh, they have been fine. Charlotte helped me with the clothes; goodness knows I'm getting too old to be running back and forth to the river. She's a wonderful girl; I'm so proud of her. Benjamin helped me collect and chop more firewood, and then went to Mrs Washton to buy some bread for us. What would I do without them?' She placed a hand affectionately on her chest.

‘I wanted to take Benjamin to church with me tomorrow. Mr and Mrs Torchell are having their baby, Jenna, christened. I want to show him what a christening is all about, he needs to know if he wants to be a priest, it's not as easy as it looks you know.' He put his empty dish in a bowl of hot water.

‘That's fine, dear. If you take Benjamin, I will bring Charlotte along with me later, after preparing dinner for tomorrow night,' she replied.

‘Well, I think I need rest. It's been a busy day and I'm very tired.' He yawned.

‘Ok then, my love, you go on up, I'll be up in a moment.'

Roconn kissed Maria on the cheek and went to his bed. After a few minutes, he fell into a deep sleep.

The Change

The morning came, and with it, bright sunshine which hinted at a good day. It shone through the window on to the bed, waking Roconn. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the light. The walls were bare stone and brought a chill to the room on winter nights. The floor was covered with a large rug. He looked down and found he was still fully clothed. He then realized he had been so tired the night before that he had forgotten to get undressed. He rose slowly from his bed, trying, and failing, to stifle a shuddering yawn. He shuffled to the wardrobe, pulled out a fresh set of black robes, collar, socks and shoes, and got dressed. His bedroom was small, consisting only of a double bed, which he shared with his wife, and a wardrobe in the corner.

Roconn went into the living room. The fire had burnt itself out through the night but a new one had been lit already by Maria, to keep the room warm and comfortable. His shoes and overcoat had dried out over night, but the sun had started melting the snow outside, so he had no need for his coat today. Maria was tending to a saucepan on the tripod above the fire. In the saucepan was a large quantity of porridge for breakfast.

‘Good morning, dear. I didn't hear you get up. Here, have something to eat, you must be quite hungry. You didn't eat much yesterday,' Maria said to him as she placed a bowl of hot, steaming porridge on the table.

‘Thank you,' he replied gratefully as he took a seat.

Roconn hastily started to spoon the porridge down, when Benjamin joined him at the table. Maria dished up another bowl of porridge and passed it to Benjamin. Roconn hurried to finish his breakfast so he could set out, Benjamin followed suit.

After breakfast was done, Roconn and Benjamin left the house and were soon walking down the muddy lane, towards the church. The sun was shining, casting long shadows behind them and the birds chirped somewhere in the forest. There was still a cold breeze that blew every few seconds. Puddles had formed every few feet but large patches of snow had yet to be melted. Benjamin walked side by side with his father. He was a little nervous about being at the christening, but excited nonetheless. He loved his father dearly and wanted to carry on the family tradition by becoming a priest. As such, he knew that today was a special day for the pair of them, because today he would begin learning.

‘Are you ready son?' asked Roconn. ‘We will get everything ready and wait for Mr and Mrs Torchell to arrive with baby Jenna,' he commented.

In truth he was a little nervous as well. Not because he was performing a christening, he had done this many times, but because this was his son's first time. Roconn wondered idly whether his son really did want to become a priest like him.

‘Perhaps he doesn't say anything because I'm pressing him; maybe this isn't for him…' Roconn thought. He turned to his son outside the church, knelt down before him, and placed his hands on Benjamin's shoulders.

‘Son, if this is not what you want, tell me,' Roconn told him. Benjamin looked nervously at his father.

‘I don't know, I'm not sure if I can do this,' Benjamin replied, his eyes fixed on his shoes.

‘I understand; it takes a lot of responsibility. Believe it or not, I felt the same as you did when my father brought me to my first christening, but you know what he told me? He said, “I have never been more proud of you, Roconn, I could not have asked for a better son, and I will be right behind you on whichever path you wish to take.” And I pass these words to you, Benjamin. I am right behind you, whichever path you choose.'

Benjamin lifted his gaze and looked at his father, inhaled and smiled to him before saying,

‘I can do this, this is what I want.'

Roconn felt a rush of pride towards his son. Together, they opened the church doors and walked inside. The church was exactly as he had left it the night before. Despite this, he felt an uneasy feeling that something was not right. The day had turned from being a hopeful occasion (not just for Mr and Mrs Torchell and baby Jenna, but for Roconn and Benjamin too) to a strange, unsettling one. He pushed his anxious feelings aside and began getting everything prepared for the ceremony.

Benjamin checked the benches, double checking all the Bibles were still in place. Roconn went around the church, re-lighting the torches. The strange feeling had not gone. If anything it had become more pronounced. The sun hid behind a clump of clouds, depriving the church of its natural light.

Once everything was set and ready, Benjamin sat on one of the benches. Soon, he would be sitting here with his mother and sister, paying attention to the ceremony. Maria and Charlotte walked through the doors. Charlotte was a very pretty young girl of sixteen. She looked a lot like her mother, though her eyes were a warm chocolate brown and her face was thinner. Roconn smiled warmly at the sight of them in their smart dresses.

He raised his gaze above their heads and saw an unfamiliar face peering in through the window of the church, as droplets of rain started falling from the greying sky. It had piercing, blood-red eyes. Roconn gasped. Then as quickly as it had appeared, the face was gone, leaving nothing more than the rain trickling down the window of the church.

‘Are you okay?' asked Charlotte in her sweet voice.

She looked around the church to see what could have caused her father to act so strangely.

Roconn thought as he composed his face into a warm smile.

‘I'm fine, dear.'

Charlotte relaxed and took a seat with her brother. She was soon talking and laughing with him. Maria walked up to Roconn and kissed him gently on the cheek.

‘It's freezing outside now! Did you hear the thunder? To think, it started off as a good day today,' she laughed.

‘I'll sit down and wait for the other guests. I can't wait to see Jenna again. I swear the last time I saw her she had grown at least four inches!'

Roconn walked to the doors, opening them wider. He scanned the village. It looked clear and he decided it had been a trick of the light. In the distance, guests could be seen bowing their head to the rain and wind. Another roll of thunder rumbled overhead, echoing around Greyton.

The priest waited patiently at the doors, ready to greet the guests as they entered the church. They seemed grateful for some shelter and each one muttered a word of thanks as they passed Roconn in the doorway. Once the guests had all arrived, he shut the doors and walked up the aisle. A loud roll of thunder boomed, making everyone jump. The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach grew until he felt queasy. He tried to ignore it, carrying on as though nothing was wrong. When Roconn reached the front he turned to face the soaked audience and smiled, holding his arms out wide as if to embrace them.

At that moment the wind started to howl around the church.

‘Thank you all for coming. I would like to say how nice it is to see so many familiar faces,' Roconn spoke to the congregation.

Roconn cast his eyes over to Mr and Mrs Torchell, who both nodded at him and smiled to Jenna who was, at the moment, asleep in her mother's arms. The priest let his arms fall loosely to his side. Hail bounced against the windows of the church. Everyone smiled politely.

‘I will begin with a prayer.' He looked at Benjamin, who smiled at him.

Everyone put their hands together and bowed their heads.

‘Heavenly Father, grant that this child grows in grace and love. May she learn to follow Jesus through the influence of the Holy Spirit. She is a true child of yours, and we pray she serves you faithfully all her days,' he began.

At the same time, a loud rumble of thunder rattled the windows. The sound echoed across the church hall.

‘We pray guidance and strength for the parents and family of this child. May their example, wise counsel and loving, lead her to live a life of strength, righteousness, faith, love, joy and peace. We pray this in the name of Jesus Christ.'

Lightning flashed illuminating the room. A few people gasped, but everyone remained seated with their heads bowed and hands together.

‘Amen,' he finished.

‘Amen,' murmured the congregation.

At these words, without warning, an unearthly fog rolled through the village and in through the door, which was ajar, clouding the windows and snuffing out the torches with its cold, unyielding form. The church fell into an unusually dense darkness. Roconn only just managed to make out the villagers craning their necks and muttering in nervous tones, before they too were engulfed by the fog. Roconn's breath began to steam in the sudden cold. Jenna awoke and began crying at the top of her voice. Mr and Mrs Torchell tried to soothe her by hushing her and telling her it's ok.

Everyone murmured, fear evident in their voices. A sudden explosion sounded from above as lightning struck the church spire. Roconn heard a loud groan of twisting metal followed by an ear-splitting crash, as the roof was ripped from the church and blown away. Roconn peered upwards; a tornado was forming in the grey clouds above. Roofing tiles and supporting beams fell to the ground, striking villagers. Those who could move tried to run towards the doors, climbing over the debris and pushing past one another.

Roconn was paralysed with fear. He opened his mouth to shout for his family but no sound escaped. Survivors ducked and dashed for cover, screaming at the death of loved ones. The owners of the local store attempted an escape through one of the windows but they were stopped when another flash of lightning struck the ground on the other side of the window; the vibration causing it to shatter in their faces. More windows smashed, sending shards flying in every direction and cutting many survivors, their frames crumbled to the ground, preventing any escape through the windows.

‘BENJAMIN!' Roconn shouted, finally making his voice work.

He immediately started searching for his family. Everything was submerged in fog and dust, making it difficult and dangerous to move. The wind blew harder like a hurricane, loosening more debris which fell into the church. A few feeble cries for help were cut off. Flecks of blood spattered over Roconn.

‘MARIA! CHARLOTTE!'

Roconn took cover, laying face down as the debris landed. Hail stones fell into the church, ricocheting in different directions. It was as though the Lord Himself had unleashed his fury upon the village, condemning everyone to death.

The sound of creaking metal emanated through the ruined church. The cross on the top blew back into the church, though the roof was nowhere to be seen. Where it landed, Roconn couldn't tell. More slates tumbled from the roof as the fog eased back, allowing Roconn to see. He wished he couldn't. The church was destroyed; bodies of children, adults and even little Jenna could just be seen under the rubble. Each corpse was smothered in deep crimson liquid and dust. Limbs could be seen sticking out of the debris. Lightning illuminated the church once more. At the front of the church, in pools of blood and covered with shards of slate, lay the bodies of his wife and children. Blood trickled from their mouths. He looked in horror at their faces, grey with dust. Roconn felt an uncontrollable surge of hatred.

‘GOD!' he bellowed to the sky.

‘YOU HAVE TAKEN MY FAMILY! YOU HAVE TAKEN THE VILLAGE, TAKE ME!'

‘Help, Roconn,' whispered a voice weakly.

Roconn scrambled over loose rocks, dodging beams of wood and roofing tiles until he reached his wife. He knelt down beside her. She was barely alive. Blood poured from severe cuts across her body, her face was bruised and sliced and her arm stuck out at a funny angle. Roconn knew he was going to lose his wife if he did not act soon. He needed to move her out of the church quickly. Without any help, she would be dead within minutes. He moved as many stones as he could, most of which were covered in blood. At last, he was able to pick up his wife, cradling her in his arms.

‘You're going to make it. Just hold on. Don't let go!' he half-whispered, half-sobbed.

Tears ran down his face, dripping on to Maria's body. The hail had now turned into rain, falling steadily as the half-formed tornado withdrew to the sky once more. The Lord had forsaken him. He had taken his children, and mortally wounded his wife. Roconn could not understand why He would do this. No longer would he be a servant of the Lord, nor would he allow anyone else he cared for to die on his account, while he lived on, he was sure of that. He looked at the lifeless bodies of Benjamin and Charlotte. Tears of anger and loss continued to roll down his dirty face. Roconn started making his way towards the door, pausing as he looked at it properly for the first time since the storm. The cross had fallen upside down, in front of the doors, barricading them inside, Roconn was horrified.

Setting his wife down, he tore large strips of cloth from his robes and tied them around the worst of her wounds. He realized now that he should have listened to his gut instinct and left the church when he had the chance. Instead, he had decided to ignore it, and that decision would stay with him for the rest of his life.

He spent what felt like an eternity trying to push the cross away from the door. With a great deal of effort, it started to lean away from the door until it fell against the wall with a loud crash. Clouds of dust lifted into the air. But this did not bother Roconn, who was determined to get his wife to safety.

He lifted his wife again, kicked open the door and ran into the churchyard. Roconn wrenched open the gate which led to the now deserted village. Feeling sick with pain, he paused, lowering Maria on the grass.

‘I need to get Charlotte and Benjamin. I'll be right back, I promise. Don't let go.' Whether she was awake or not, he could not tell.

A few minutes later, Charlotte and Benjamin were set down beside the gate. He thought it best not to lay them next to Maria; he knew it would traumatize her to see their lifeless bodies. Roconn bent over his children, gazing at their faces as tears poured from his eyes. He refused to believe they were gone. They couldn't be dead, he thought. This couldn't be happening! He shook his daughter in a desperate attempt to wake her. But Charlotte would never wake. Her head lolled to one side when he finally let go. He turned to Maria.