Cosmopolitan Blood Loss.

Chapter 4.

An uneasy feeling wove itself through my mind, into my dreams, causing me to wake up with a jolt. The unease was quickly countered with splitting pain as my head beamed off of something low and solid. As my hand went to clutch my throbbing head, my knuckles rapped hard on another hard surface, this time very close on my right, and it didn't take very long for me to realize I was in a space that was very dark, very tiny, and I was very claustrophobic. Like clockwork, my mind counted to three and then I went into a fit of hysteria.

As my limbs beat furiously at my confined space, it's form began to take shape. It was simply a very long and narrow box made of what seemed like wood, a slight cushion beneath me, much like a......

My breath caught in my chest and my eyes went wide as my mind pieced things together and survival instincts kicked in.

The best plan I came up with: Fist Palm of Death as seen in Kill Bill.

Palm open, pinky to the ceiling I held my hand up marking my striking spot, then suddenly made a fist and punched my mark as hard as I could. DAMN YOU, UMA THURMAN! The pain was more immense than when I had first rapped my knuckles, but I didn't care. Pain was better than death, and it hadn't worked the first time in the movie either.

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Thirty-eight, Ahhhhhhooooowwwwwwwww! Thirty-nine, Arrgggghhhhhhhh!, Forty.........

The bloody mess of my hand set yet again in motion, my mind telling myself "Forty is the charm!", when just a thin line of light blinded me, widening quickly.

Eventually my fist did collide with something, but that something was a very angry, kidnaping vampire.

"Oh. Your. God..." Though I would have liked to get up and run, I stayed so very still. My adrenaline quivered in my veins, but I held as still as I could manage.

His chiseled face read all crazy types of emotions, rather scary, his lip twitching violently until they finally parted, roaring "IT WAS OPEN!"

I stared down at what I was now sitting up in. A plain black, wooden casket with dim red satin bedding. The satin lined lid I had been banging at for what seemed an eternity was only damaged by blood stains from my wounded knuckles. I would have taken this opportunity to quickly jump out of the casket, but the adrenaline rush had my mind at top speed, scrambling my judgement. My reaction was far from a sane one.

"I am so sorry! I was just trying to get out....Hold on a second! I am not the one who should be apologizing here! You totally shut me up in your coffin!"

"I did not 'shut you up' in my coffin! You fell asleep. Would you prefer to sleep on the floor?"

I stared at the ground, the floor being large cobblestones mostly wet, a cracking concrete ceiling to blame. Moss and other fungi were thriving up from the cracks and up the concrete walls. The slight compassion in Shant's act shut me right up. Any act of compassion, even from a criminal, still melted my heart ever so slightly.

"Are you hungry?" Shant's tone, too, was much more calm as he leaned against the coffin, staring down at me.

We both sat in silence for a while, until he cleared his throat.

"Damn, I was waiting for the extremely cliche, perfectly timed stomach growl. But, yeah, I'm definitely starved to the point of stomach implosion."

"I thought as much. I've made up an area for you in the old monk's quarters while you slept. It's quite small and dry, with an old cast iron stove. It should suffice." Shant held out his right hand, and I took it, letting him gently help me out of the coffin, being cautious of the grace I didn't have. I would play his game, I had decided. My constant fighting with him eased me a little when it came to how long I could last here. He clearly didn't expect to bump into me and he definitely didn't have a plan at all, nevermind a plan to hurt me. Shant was absolutely clueless as to what to do with me. Once he thought he could put a little faith into me, I would run like the wind and never look back.

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The Coeur d'Coeurs Cathedral was much larger than I had imagined. The room in which the coffin was one of two basements. Once we had reached the first level, the corridor back to the main entrance was ever winding, littered with more doors than debris. Never-the-less, we finally reached the dreary red curtain out into the main lobby. The huge chandelier above us remained lit and the sky outside remained dark. I wondered how long I had been asleep as we ascended the largest of the three main staircases, up to the alter area. The huge mahogany doors were already opened. I stood in the doorway.

It may have been dark outside, but everything just seemed to glow. The room sat on at least three-fourths of an acre of land alone, reaching up at least three floors high. What first caught my eye was the solid gold, two stories high alter, shining in the moonlight. The second, a huge cross affixed to the alter with the most life like Jesus statue nailed to it, the eyes piercing me all the way across the room. And the third, were the three stained glass walls of windows.

On every wall, scenes of the Apocalypse were played out. Large amounts of orange glass formed fires everywhere, the moonlight making them radiant. My eyes skimmed over the demons tearing flesh off men, women, and children and then back to Jesus affixed to the alter.

"Yeah, excuse my language, but fuck this."