NOTE: The Huntress(tm) and all other characters depicted in this piece of 
fiction are all copyright (c)2000 by DC Comics Inc. They are used here for non-
profit, fan-oriented entertainment only. This original piece of fiction is 
copyright (c)2000 by C.W. Blaine. Any and all questions should be forwarded to 
the e-mail address above.

***

HUNTRESS: BLOOD AND LUST
by C.W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

***

The rain poured on Gotham City in wave after wave, as if God was trying to wash 
the filth away. Gotham stood up to the rains, in its normal way, silent and 
cold. So cold, in fact, that Detective Harvey Bullock cupped his hands around 
the lit end of his cigar in an attempt to warm up. He was frozen and wet, and 
like an alley cat caught in a rainstorm, he was angry. He barked orders to the 
uniformed police officers that stood around the barricade, being casual.

Casual would get them dead, Harvey knew, if the "Bat-Man" had anything to say 
about it. Somewhere, in the abandoned apartment building that the police had 
surrendered, was a vampire. Harvey hated vampires.

A black sedan rolled up, the license plates indicating diplomatic immunity for 
the occupants. Harvey knew who it was, the Vatican's representative. He wondered 
what a stuffy, old priest was going to do to a vampire in its prime.

The driver got out, dressed in a black suit and opened the door directly behind 
him. A tall, blonde-haired man stepped out. He was wearing a beige overcoat and 
he plunged his hands into his pockets as the wind picked up. Harvey guessed that 
the man was no more than twenty-five and didn't appear to be a priest. Harvey 
assumed that the man was simply a bodyguard.

The rear door closest to Harvey opened up and a woman, clad in black leather 
stepped out. The cigar fell from Harvey's mouth and died quickly in a puddle at 
his feet. The woman was more beautiful than Harvey had seen for a long time. 
Perhaps it was the jet-black hair, or the piercing blue eyes; Harvey thought it 
was probably the way the leather hugged her ample features. He took her in with 
his eyes, slowly undressing her despite himself, when he noticed the gold cross 
around her neck. He recognized the symbolism. "Good God! What kind of nun are 
you?" Harvey asked, crossing over to take her hand. "Harvey Bullock, Gotham PD."

"Helena Bertinelli, Sister Joan Helena Bertinelli," she said flashing perfectly 
white and straight teeth. "And I'm not the kind of nun you're thinking of."

The blonde haired man had some around and Harvey noticed the shining black 
combat boots. "You a priest?"

The man smiled and Harvey noted that his features seemed almost too perfect. He 
was handsome, much to handsome for a priest. He was not clean-shaven and his 
eyes flashed with a coldness that made Harvey shiver. "No," the man began. "A 
priest I am not, but I am a Brother of the Mother Church." Harvey noted that the 
man had a strange, European accent. "My name is Jean Paul Valley of the Order of 
St. Dumas. The sister and I are here to rid you of your pest problem."

Harvey nodded and then pointed to the building. "Damn whacko's killed three of 
my officers!"

Helena laid a gloved hand on Harvey's arm. "Were they bitten?"

Harvey shook his head. "Naw, had their throats ripped out with his claws. We 
tried shooting him, but I guess our bullets don't affect him. The spotlights are 
bothering him though."

Helena took a few steps forward and looked up at the building. She shielded her 
eyes from the falling rain and scanned the windows. "How do you know he's still 
in there?"

"We had the precinct chaplain bless the entrances, the sewers, the garbage cans 
and the phone lines just to be safe." Harvey answered, pulling out another 
cigar. "I never thought we'd have a vampire problem here."

Jean Paul smiled grimly. "It's only a problem for Europe, correct Detective?"

Harvey glared at him. "No, that's not what I meant. We had no evidence of any 
vampire activity. Whoever this guys is, he must have a secret hide-away to store 
his kills. Not only that, he must have bucks out his butts because we don't have 
that many missing persons to support a healthy, feeding vampire. He must have 
been going all around the state."

"Do you have a bullhorn, Detective Bullock?" Helena asked, keeping an eye on a 
particular window.

Harvey unslung the bullhorn he had under his coat and handed it to the leather-
clad nun. She thanked him and walked up to the yellow police tape and ducked 
under. She heard the whispers of the male officers and caught the leering glance 
of one of the female officers. She pushed the thoughts back.

"What the hell did she just say?" Harvey asked Jean Paul after Helena lowered 
the bullhorn.

"It's Aramaic, the language of the vampires. They brought it from Palestine to 
the New World centuries ago," Jean Paul answered, pulling out a cigarette.

There was no reply from the building and Helena called into the bullhorn again. 
When she was met with only a thunderclap miles away, she turned and moved back 
to where Harvey and Jean Paul stood smoking. "He refuses to surrender to the 
authority of the Church. Detective, we will be going in."

"Do you want some of men to go with you?"

Jean Paul laughed. "Only if they want to be dinner."

***

The two entered the building without stealth, for they knew that the vampire 
inside already had sensed their presence. They were quite a team, a peaceful nun 
from a warrior order and a warrior from a peaceful one. They were part of the 
Vatican's special response team, code-named Titans. It was the Titans job to 
seek out and eliminate the enemies of God in the world.

Vampires had, for a long time, been officially denied as existing by the Church 
for centuries until the late 1980's, when the creatures began to run rampant 
throughout Africa. Persons to have survived their biting attacks developed a 
disease that degenerated the immune system. The disease, now known as AIDS, 
originally spread through sexual contact, leading many to believe that it was 
the Lord's wrath upon the sinful. The Church knew, from the beginning, that it 
was much more than that.

When the Pope had announced that vampires were real, the public was mixed in 
their reaction. It wasn't until several were captured during the wars in the 
former Yugoslavia that the horrid truth was held before the peoples of the 
Earth. There, live on CNN, you could see evidence of the Devil's presence, 
sneering and spitting, speaking in a tongue no longer used.

What vampires really were and what they represented were unimportant compared to 
the need to rid the Earth of them. They were an abomination sent to plague man 
and the Church was the only organization prepared to handle such a crisis. Even 
countries that traditionally did not trust the Church made appeals to the Pope 
for assistance, and the very special members of the Titans were sent all over 
the globe to provide that aid.

For Sister Joan Helena Bertinelli, having taken her vows before God only a month 
before, this was exciting. She had been in the convent of Our Sister in Arms 
since she was 12 years old, when rival mobsters had gunned down her father, a 
Mafioso with connections worldwide. At the Order, which had been established 
centuries before by Saint Joan of Arc, if the rumors were true, was meant to 
train sisters in the art of war, should the day come they would need to take up 
arms against the forces of Hell. She had excelled in swordsmanship, gymnastics, 
and archery, earning her the opportunity to join the Titans after her vows had 
been taken.

Her partner, a monk who had conceded that his vows to celibacy and poverty were 
made when he was drunk, was still a good man who believed in God and his son, 
and would do the work of the Church without question. A former soldier, he had 
joined the Order of St. Dumas after his wife had left him and he was 
contemplating suicide. The Order took him in and he made the vows, winking as he 
did so to his Heavenly Father. Perhaps he wasn't the best monk, but he was the 
best operative the Church had and even the Pope was willing to look the other 
way if Jean Paul would carry out his special holy duties.

They walked from room to room, fearless. Jean Paul was wearing a Kevlar weave 
body suit, while Helena had her leather uniform on. The outfits, more for 
function than effect, were blessed in specific rites that prevented a vampire 
from being able to bite through them. 

On the third floor, they found the vampire.

He was tall, with hair as dark as Helena's, and shoulders of breadth that she 
had never scene on a man before. He was handsome, darkly handsome, and his voice 
was soothing and calm. *Welcome, my dear sweet child* he said in his ancient 
tongue.

He moved into the beam of her flashlight and simply stood there, naked save for 
a simple pair of boxer shorts. His skin was not pale, but had a deep rich tan 
that indicated he had enjoyed the light of the sun prior to his turning. His 
features placed him as from Mediterranean origin, but it could have been a trick 
of the light. *Surrender before the power of the Church and its servants, demon* 
she replied.

Her hand grasped a crossbow, loaded with a bolt made of the purest silver, the 
only metal that could penetrate the vampire's skin. The vampire moved closer to 
her and she heard the sound of Jean Paul's sword, blessed by the Pope being 
removed from its scabbard. The sword was a mixture of silver and steel. The 
vampire stood before her, his face illuminated by the flashlight. He made no 
move, only looked at her with icy blue eyes. He inhaled and Helena could not 
help but notice the movement of his chest, how the muscles within it flinched 
ever so slightly. A tingle she had never felt before began someplace between her 
throat and breasts. *I cannot surrender to the Church, for I am damned, and I am 
tired.*

In his eyes, she saw something flicker and for the briefest of moments, she saw 
a vision of herself with this vampire, entwined on a moonlit beach. She was 
gasping and moaning as wave after wave of sensation tore through her from the 
waist up. He temperature rose and fell with the vampire's movements, only 
subsided as the ocean's waves crashed on them.

"Helena!" Jean Paul cried out.

Helena's training took over and she instantly brought the crossbow up and fired. 
The vampire, its face twisted in rage, fangs bared, had tried to bite her on the 
unprotected cheek. The bolt went straight through the vampire's throat, causing 
him to fall back. Black blood spurted from the wound as Jean Paul made his 
attack. The vampire had not been prepared for the quick strike by his hypnotized 
prey and was falling victim to his own complacency.

Jean Paul swung, screaming in Latin as he did, cursing in French when his blows 
did not land. Even wounded, the vampire was a formidable enemy, applying various 
martial arts moves on Jean Paul. Helena joined in, trying to land a punch in the 
throat wound with her signet ring, which had a cross on it. Because they were 
hell-born, the vampires were especially weak against the symbols of Heaven and 
the Father.

Helena missed and the vampire smacked her across the room. This, however, left 
him open for Jean Paul's attack and Helena soon saw she was being joined by the 
disembodied head of the vampire, still moving it's eyes to take in the final 
scene of its life. It stopped rolling and came to stop between Helena's legs. 
She looked down at it and it looked at her crotch area, licking its lips. She 
felt a wave of disgust wash over her. She was experiencing her menstrual cycle 
and the vampire, lost in blood lust, was trying to get to her.

Jean Paul kicked the head across the room where it thudded against a wall. "Give 
it a few minutes to die. They don't need air, but they do need blood."

Helena nodded and wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm sorry. I failed."

Jean Paul smirked and helped her stand up. "That was a hell of a shot, Sister 
Joan Helena; not what I call failing. Don't worry about the thought he puts in 
your mind. It's a weapon, that's all, it got nothing to do with you."

"Have they ever done it to you?" she asked, reloading her crossbow.

Jean Paul smiled. "Oui, mon cherie, that they have, only I liked it too much and 
started chasing the female vampire around." He started laughing to himself as he 
remembered the incident.

***

Across the street, in another abandoned building, another vampire, younger and 
leaner, cried tears of blood as he was held by his mate. Over and over again, 
speaking in the language of his kind, he recited "father". The woman, with hair 
the color of blood and fire, stared across the street at the sword-wielding 
meat-puppet that had killed their blood-father. Silently, as she stroked her 
lover's dark hair, she swore an oath that she would feast upon this zealous 
protector of the Church.


"Please come in," Commissioner James Gordon said from behind his desk. He got up 
and extended his hand to the Vatican's representatives. "I'm Jim Gordon, the one 
who contacted the Arch-Diocese about this situation."

Jean Paul sat down, shifting his sword as he did. "Problem? Non, mon ami, that 
was no problem, that was a major catastrophe waiting to happen. I haven't seen a 
vampire that fit in years."

Helena also took a seat. "It was my first encounter with one and he sure 
impressed me. Do you know who he was?"

Jim sat down on the corner of his desk and pulled out his pipe. As he lit it, 
Jean Paul withdrew his pack of Camels. The monk would not smoke until someone 
else did. "His name was, as far as we know, Bruce Wayne. His family goes back to 
the founding of the city. He himself, if what I've read about vampires is true, 
may have even been one of the founders."

Helena nodded, recalling her course in vampires. "Vampires are the spawn of 
fallen angels and sinful women, unholy creatures that are not mortal in the 
sense we know, but mortal enough that they can die. Because of their unique 
characteristics, they need fresh blood to remain alive, and on the genetic 
level, they do not age."

"I knew Bruce's father, but I can't recall ever seeing him in the daytime..."

Jean Paul took a drag and blew smoke rings into the air. "You mean Thomas Wayne? 
We think he may have been a vampire; the man who killed him was a former priest 
named Joe Chill. Chill found out about the vampires and demanded that the Church 
make a public statement. When it refused, he resigned and became a vampire 
hunter. Died in prison I heard."

"You do your homework, Brother Valley," Gordon replied.

Helena spoke up. "This Thomas Wayne must have been a very powerful vampire to be 
able to breed naturally. By their nature, vampires are very sexual, but they 
normally cannot reproduce the way we do."

"We learned about Wayne by accident. A drug dealer named Bane figured out who 
Wayne was; I don't know how, but he sold us the information. When we confronted 
him, he led us on a chase through Gotham that has lasted weeks. We were at our 
wits ends when I contacted the Church."

"The Catholic Church is always ready to lend a hand in such matters, 
Commissioner. I can tell there is something else you want to talk about," Helena 
said coolly.

Jim regarded her and for the life of him, could not understand why such a 
strikingly beautiful woman would be involved in such things. He had no doubt 
that Sister Joan Helena could have been a model, and actress or the wife of a 
millionaire. Her beauty reminded him of his sorrow. "It's my adoptive daughter, 
Barbara."

Jean Paul looked up. "She's a vampire?"

Jim nodded. "Wayne had a son, Richard Grayson. Him and Barbara were dating for 
quite some time. When the news about Bruce broke out, they both disappeared."

"Was Grayson a vampire?" Jean Paul asked, stubbing out his cigarette.

"Not originally; Wayne adopted him after his parents were killed. I think he 
needed a human son to give him legitimacy," Jim said thoughtfully.

"It's hard to believe that a vampire of such power could operate right under 
people's noses," Helena said.

"He must have turned Grayson at some point, to prevent him from being used 
against him. It's an old trick, but an effective one. I'd say he's turned your 
daughter as well, Commissioner," Jean Paul said glumly. "You still have a 
vampire problem."

Jim stood up and walked over to the window behind his desk and stared out at the 
rain falling. "If my daughter is a vampire, I want you to kill her before I have 
to. If she's not, then please bring her back to me."

***

They were safe for now, hidden away beneath the city, away from the small 
patches of sunlight that would break through the clouds as the storm tried to 
decide whether it would stay or go. Dick's sadness had been replaced with 
desire, a desire to survive and get revenge for Bruce. 

Bruce Wayne had been an honorable man, a worthy blood-father who had taken Dick 
in when criminals had murdered his parents. His blood-father had shown him the 
Church misrepresented his kind and proved that Dick had nothing to fear. Bruce 
fed on the criminal element, bringing justice to an unjust world that would not 
tolerate anything that wasn't human.

"We will have revenge," Dick said, pushing Barbara against the wall. His eyes 
flashed a brief emerald in the fading light and he kissed her savagely.  

She returned the kiss, her tongue running over his fangs until it cut into the 
muscle. The blood slowly dripped, though not the fresh fluids of a human, but 
enough to begin their blood passion. "Yes, yes we will avenge him. The meat must 
be made to learn who is their true masters!"

His hands ran along her sides, her skin goose bumped at his touch. "We will love 
tonight, tomorrow we will hunt. We will find the Church's swordsman and make a 
meal of him."

She ripped his shirt open and ran her tongue down his chest. "Yes, tonight we 
love."

***

Helena was dead tired when she closed the door to the private room she would 
occupy for the time being. A sister had shown her to it, deep in the basement of 
the Our Lady of Gotham Church, and had then had stated she would have to be up 
by a certain time in order to eat and help with the care of the church. Helena 
had raised an eyebrow. "Listen, Sister, I'm a Titan, get it? I answer to the 
Holy See only, get it? If I get up and miss breakfast, then I'm going straight 
to Burger King! Oh, and I don't do windows either!"

She regretted having snapped at the sister, but her mood was edgy after the 
experience with Bruce Wayne. For a brief moment, she had actually felt what it 
was like to be with a man. She was a virgin, and having taken a vow of celibacy, 
she would always remain one. Never before had that choice bothered her, for she 
didn't understand what she was missing. Now, it was different.

The vampire, in an attempt to take her, to kill her, had flooded her mind with 
images and sensations she had never experienced. She shuddered thinking about 
them again, and she wrapped her arms around herself. The carnal fantasy played 
again and again and she nearly screamed trying to block it out.

She felt dirty and embarrassed and stripped off her uniform, save for the 
crucifix, and went into the adjoining bathroom to shower. She scrubbed until her 
skin was pink and then she turned the water to its hottest, trying to use the 
pain to drive the picture of Bruce Wayne, muscles rippling from the efforts to 
satisfy her, out of her mind.

God help her, she prayed, I can't stop thinking about it.

A knock at her bedroom door broke her from her dreaming and she shut the water 
off and threw on a robe she had packed. It was a gift from her family, 
embroidered with her initials and a small 
cross. "Who is it?" she called.

"Jean Paul, please open the door."

"I'm not dressed," she said, wanting to be alone.

"Good, it'll give me something to look at while we talk," he said through the 
door.

Helena sighed and opened the door. Jean Paul stood there, clad in his workout 
clothes, drenched in sweat. His odor sent her mind reeling and for just a 
moment, she desperately wanted to rip his clothes off and look at him while they 
talked. "What do you want?" she asked, her hand on her forehead.

He walked in, brushing past her. His touch was warm. "Got a headache?"

She smiled. "Yes, a bad one."

"It's the after-effects of the hypnosis. It will take some time to get over it. 
The more powerful the vampire, the longer it remains in your head. Don't worry 
about it, though, try praying. It worked for me." 

Having Jean Paul actually dispense clerical advice was new to her. Even though 
they had only been working together for a week, she felt as if she had known the 
man her whole life. He was only a few years older than her, but he had lived a 
lifetime already and he was far from the ideal candidate for the life of a monk. 
She sat down in a chair. He remained standing.

"I hate to ask you this, but after what I saw today, I have to. Are you having 
your period?"

She flushed. Never before in her life had a man ever asked her such a thing. 
"Yes."

"I was afraid of that. You can't go out after the other vampires. They'll smell 
you a mile a way," Jean Paul said, avoiding her eyes.

"What? No! I'm not quitting because I happen to have fully functional ovaries," 
she snapped. Her head was throbbing.

"You're not off the case, but you'll have to remain here until you get off of 
your period. Then you'll have to clean up real good. I'm sorry, but we don't 
have time to be nice. That's probably why the hypnosis worked so quickly on you, 
your hormones are active making you susceptible to the vampire's pheromones."

"Pheromones?" Helena asked, more intrigued now.

"Yeah, it's a little side effect of their 'condition'; the Church says its from 
being created from angels, scientists say its 'evolutionary adaptation'. It 
allows a vampire to more easily attract its prey."

"I suppose I can use the time to research possible hiding spots for our loose 
vampires," Helena said, too tired to fight anymore.

"Good idea. Father Harper will be here tomorrow to help me out until you're 
ready," Jean Paul said, moving to the bedroom-door.

"Father Harper?" Helena asked, on the verge of passing out.

"Yes, code named Arsenal for all Titans transmissions. He's been working in the 
middle east. Rumor has it an Arabian prince has discovered the secret of 
immortality. The Church wants to know if it is true. He's been reassigned here. 
Gotham City has been very kind to the Church in the past. Get some sleep."

Helena was just that before the door even shut.

***

Father Roy Harper reviewed the records provided by Commissioner Gordon via 
netfax as he rode in the Vatican limousine. He was surprised by the level of 
secrecy, the absolute sophistication of the ruse perpetrated by Bruce Wayne. It 
was indeed possible that Wayne had been a genetically pure vampire, as the 
documents suggested his mother and father had both been as well. The mad priest, 
Joseph Chill, had tried to take the Lord's work into his own hands, and Father 
Harper felt a strange kinship to the man.

Had he been a priest only twenty years later, Father Joseph Pious Chill would 
have been a member of the Titans. His association to the Church had been buried, 
and we he was declared a lunatic, the matter was thought to have been dropped. 
The one question Father Harper had was why hadn't Chill killed the boy as well? 
He had to have known that he was a vampire as well, and a potentially powerful 
one.

Vampires were, in Father Harper's opinion, the ambassadors of Hell. He had read 
the works of Lex Luthor, the world's foremost geneticist, and of his theories 
that vampirism was merely a disease that could be cured. More likely, Father 
Harper thought, Luthor was hoping to scare the public into buying the drugs his 
company put out to ward off vampires.

From the pages of Bram Stoker, to live on cable news, the vampire had traveled a 
long road in the minds of modern man. As a priest of the Titans, it was his job 
to safeguard God's children from this evil. 

Father Chill had thought the same thing and had paid for it with his sanity.

The files on the two "children" of Wayne were even more fascinating. Dick 
Grayson had been a normal youth, who had excelled in his studies and played high 
school football. The woman, Barbara, was a few years older, but had seemed 
immediately smitten with the young man. A true love perverted by the unholy 
influence of vampires.

Father Harper crossed himself and said a silent prayer for his departed wife. 
They had married young, too young in fact, but they had loved so fiercely that 
when she was taken from him, by one of those wretched creatures, he knew he 
would never love lie that again. His beloved Donna, how much he missed her. How 
much their daughter, Lian, missed her as well.

The Church had accepted him and seminary was only a year behind him, but he was 
a priest, with all of the privileges that came with it, and the responsibility. 
He embraced that responsibility just as he embraced his work with the Titans. 

He would get revenge for Donna. He would make them pay, and though it was a sin 
to wish such things and he made an effort to suppress his feelings, he couldn't 
help himself. He was only human.

For that, he thanked God.

He pulled out a digital recorder and started making notes. "It is obvious that 
Grayson must have been turned recently, so he may be new to all of his 
abilities. Then again, with Wayne being as experienced as he was, he may have 
trained the boy to prepare him for the mantle he must now assume. If they follow 
the standard clan format, and there is no evidence to believe otherwise, Grayson 
will have to gather all of Wayne's 'children' and either accept leadership, or 
abdicate to the most senior. There can be no doubt that Grayson was handpicked 
by Wayne to succeed him. The Gordon girl is a different story, it is possible, 
though not likely, that she has not been turned. If she has not, her father has 
requested we take her to the Vatican for immediate re-education."

Father Harper turned the recorder off as the car stopped in front of a church. 
He waited for the driver, really a bodyguard from the Swiss Special Forces, to 
open the door. A light drizzle was falling, and Roy put his hat on to keep his 
red hair from getting wet. As he climbed the stone stairs to the massive oak 
doors, he heard a voice call to him. "Father Harper!"

Running up the sidewalk was Jean Paul. Roy waited for the man to meet him and 
they hugged. "It's good to see you, Brother Valley."

Jean Paul pulled away and smiled. He had a bottle of whiskey, unopened, in his 
hand. "Forget the titles, Roy, time to get drunk!"

***

Barbara moved her naked body closer to the sleeping form of Dick Grayson. She 
loved the feel of his cool hips against her backside. He made no sound, but his 
hand was slowly making circles on her bare stomach. She knew why.

More than anything, he wanted a child. Was it possible? That would remain to be 
seen, for very few vampires could reproduce naturally. Bruce had not been able 
to and had tried for years with the various members of his clan, but to no 
avail. That had not stopped him from languishing over his adopted son, and the 
bond between the two of them had been stronger than....

She choked back a tear.

How she wished her father had been more understanding, that he could have seen 
the love between the two young people. He only saw a rich playboy's son, 
interested in nothing more than bedding his daughter and moving on. How wrong he 
had been! If only he could have seen the shy young man, sweating from his 
exertions after a particularly rough game of football. If he could have heard 
how this...this...man had stumbled on his words, trying to sound mature and 
worldly to the college sophomore home for the weekend.

So many other men had tried to win her affections, but it was the undeniable 
charm, as well as the haunting blue eyes of Dick Grayson that had made her 
tingle, that had left sleepless in her dorm room. No, James Gordon never 
approved of Dick Grayson.

Maybe it was jealousy that Dick was seemingly perfect; but Barbara knew his 
flaws. He was lonely, his only companions being his adoptive father and their 
butler. He had no friends to speak of and never went out on dates. His entire 
reputation was the fabrication of old upper society women talking around a 
bridge table.

Then came the night that Dick revealed his awful secret, a secret that he was 
sure would send her running away. He loved her too much to hide the truth. 

He was a vampire.

He had not been when they met, because, as he explained later, he would have 
been stuck at a young age for the rest of his existence. No, Bruce had made him 
one of the "unholy" well after they had met. 

He offered a choice. Be with him for eternity or be without.

She felt she had chosen wisely.

The secret door opened and Barbara immediately sensed the new presence. She 
jumped up, modesty aside (she had given that up the night she had turned) and 
bared her fangs. Dick was already across the room, assuming a defensive posture. 
Bruce had trained him well in the arts of combat.

"Peace, Blood Leader," Selina Kyle said, walking into the dim light. She was 
dressed in leather, looking the part of a typical Goth. Behind her, others 
entered, and the rest of the clan Bruce Wayne had formed. 

Dick relaxed and accepted a small kiss from Selina. "How did you find us?"

Dinah Lance smirked. "Heard her moans halfway across town."

Barbara hissed at the blonde. Dinah was more or less the slut of the clan, and 
it was well known that she intended to become Blood Queen on her back if 
required. There was no love lost between the two. 

"We've been checking all of Bruce's hideouts around town. We were about to give 
up," Ivy said. She was dressed in a green outfit that made her look like a 
librarian. The truth was that she worked as a telemarketer. She was the only 
member of the clan to actually hold a job. It was her thing as she often said.

"You know why we're here, boy," Alan Scott, the physically oldest of the group 
said. He looked to be about 50 years old, and had been an ace fighter pilot in 
the Korean War. He had met Bruce through a gentlemen's club.

"Will you take leadership?" Selina asked, licking her lips. "If so, you know you 
have to bed all of us to prove yourself."

Alan spoke up. "Except me, boy! Try it and change you from a bastard into a 
bitch!"

Dick spoke slowly. "I don't know. I haven't had time to think."

"Screw you, Grayson," a young, dark-haired youth said, pushing by Dinah. He 
grabbed her butt as he walked by and she gave a little yelp. "I don't think 
you've got what it takes, old man!"

"Shut up, Jason," Dick said, trying to ignore the boy.

Jason walked up and got into Dick's face, barring his fangs. "I challenge you 
for leadership! I'm stronger and more worthy. I have the potency required to 
breed a new clan!"

There were murmurs and Dick turned to Alan. "What do the laws say?"

Alan scratched his ragged beard. "If I remember correctly, Bruce explained that 
the challenge of leadership is to the death. It can be made only at succession 
and no other time. If you refuse, you forfeit all of your clan rights, including 
your blood mate."

Barbara made a small sound and Jason turned to her. "That's right! Once I get 
rid of him, I'm going to do things to you they haven't even imagined in Hell 
yet!"

"You better fight him, Dick," Selina said in a cold voice. "I'll be damned if I 
want this little fish trying to spawn in my stream."

"Bitch, you better show respect to your betters!" Jason screamed at her. Selina 
drew a hand back, revealing long nails, perfect for tearing throats open.

"We'll take a vote," Dick began. "Everyone who wants Jason dead, raise your 
hand."

There was silence for a moment and Jason sneered at the assembled vampires. 
Slowly, hands went up, save for Dinah's. She and Jason had been lovers for 
months. "So be it," Dick said, shrugging. Jason turned, ready for a fight and 
was thrown back against a wall. He shook his head and tried to stand up, but 
suddenly felt weak.

In Dick's hand was Jason's still beating heart. Blood dripped from it and Dick 
raised it up to his lips, drinking in the dark fluid. He spat it out. "Tastes 
like pee."

As Jason slowly died from lack of blood, the other vampires started laughing, 
even Dinah who knew to keep her mouth shut. "How?" was the last thing Jason 
spoke before his soul was freed for the next life.

"Bruce showed me how to do it. You have to do it just right, extend the nails 
just so. It's very difficult," Dick said, offering the bloody muscle to the 
others. As with tradition, they all took a piece and started eating it. Most 
spit it out, except for Selina.

"It tastes like pee, Selina; how can you stand it?" Ivy asked.

"Sugar, what I like the taste of is my business." She swallowed her piece and 
wiped her mouth. "So, you agree to take leadership?"

"May I have some time? I have sworn vengeance for Bruce, I need to take care of 
that first."

Ivy spoke up. "Yes, of course, Dick." She shook her head and her red hair came 
flowing down. In a way, she looked a lot like Barbara, only more endowed. "But 
we will not wait long. You have two days to decide. In the meantime, I believe 
we have a body to dispose of."

Dinah smiled and moved towards the fallen body of Jason. "Guess which piece is 
mine?"

***

Helena awoke to find herself in an uncomfortable position on the chair. During 
the night, she had been assaulted by more of the images of her and the darkly 
handsome vampire. She was bathed in sweat and had to shower before she could 
dress. As she entered the kitchen of the church, the nuns stopped talking and 
eyed her suspiciously. She noted that the one she had verbally abused was 
nowhere to be seen.

She thought about asking for the sister, so she could make amends, but she 
doubted that an apology would mend the broken fences she was creating here. No, 
it would be better for her to finish her mission and return to Rome.

A red haired priest walked in, saw her and did a double take. "Don....no, I'm 
sorry," he said holding out his hand. "I'm Father Roy Mary Harper."

She took the hand and shook it, introducing herself. "I'm sorry if I startled 
you, Father," she said.

He held a hand up. "The fault is mine. You look very similar to my wife, God 
rest her soul." He made the sign if the cross before continuing. "I was married 
before I became a priest."

Helena nodded and went to get herself a cup of coffee. "I didn't expect you to 
be dressed so priestly, Father."

Roy smiled and got himself a cup as well. The nuns began going about their 
business, some still eyeing the leather uniform that Helena wore. "Actually, I 
always wear the robes of my office. I'm not much into the costume scene myself."

Helena shook her head. "Forgive me, Father, but I couldn't help notice how young 
you are."

"Yes, well you will soon find that there is a short life expectancy in the 
Titans, Sister; most of the older members have retired. I would say that Jean 
Paul is the oldest of us now. Chasing vampires and such ages a man quickly."

"And woman as well," Helena added.

They started walking out of the kitchen. Roy asked her if she needed her 
confession heard and she told him she did. They went to a confessional, where 
Father Harper immediately became immersed in his duties, speaking in Latin and 
blessing her. She kneeled inside the box, thankful for the extra padding in her 
knees. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two days since my 
last confession."

"And what sins have you committed, Sister?" Father Harper asked from behind his 
screen.

"I have had impure thoughts and I have shown anger to another Sister."

There was silence for a moment. "These impure thoughts, did they start after 
your encounter with the vampire?"

She nodded. "Yes, Father, and I fear they will drive me mad. I am a virgin, 
Father, inept in such things as physical love, but I swear with the Blessed 
Virgin as my witness that I feel something when I close my eyes. I feel as if I 
am on fire, that I thirst for a man's touch in my most intimate places. I have 
tried prayer and contemplation, Father, but I fear my faith is lacking."

"No, child, you have not sinned, except perhaps showing your anger. These 
thoughts are the vampire's tools, it is how he captures his prey. The human 
body, when it is in a state of sexual ecstasy, is hyper sensitive to their will. 
It was wrong to send you there." He finished with an order of penance for her 
actions against the nun and then blessed her.

When they came out, he saw that she was crying. He wanted to put an arm around 
her and comfort her, but he dared not. Her resemblance to his dead wife was too 
great, the temptation would be too strong. Instead, he tried soothing words. 
"Most of us, in the Titans, are persons of experience who have been called to 
serve God at later points in our lives. We are not as weak before the vampires, 
for we have trained ourselves to forsake that which is natural for us to desire. 
You, my dear, for not knowing a man's touch, are not properly suited for such a 
task. Though I love His Holiness with all my heart, I cannot figure out why he 
let you on our team."

She looked at him, anger behind the tears. "I'm not quitting!"

She had his wife's fire, her spirit, and her determination. In another life, 
perhaps this woman would have just been a relief worker like Donna, struggling 
to make life better for those less fortunate. Yet, that was what she was doing, 
wasn't it? Roy knew that it was that determination that the Pope had seen in 
this young woman. "I don't want you to quit, Sister Helena, but I do want you to 
spend the day in prayer. You are going to need His help in this."

***

"I don't freakin' believe it!" Jean Paul roared, holding a netfax in his hand, 
waving it around. "Merde!"

Roy looked up from the small table he was at, moving his attention away from the 
map of Gotham City to the angry monk. "What is it?"

"You are not going to believe this; the Society is coming."

Roy felt his heart and soul sink. "Why? Who called them in? Who gave the 
authorization?"

Jean Paul flopped down in the chair across from Roy and pulled out a cigarette. 
One of the priests who actually worked at the church started to protest and Jean 
Paul flipped him off. "It seems that Mr. Bruce Wayne made several campaign 
contributions to the governor. He wants this thing shut down before word gets 
out to the press. He called the president, the president called the Society."

"What's the 'Society'?" Helena asked as she came in the room.

"The Justice Society, a government sponsored special response team. Think of it 
as the U.S. version of the Titans, except they rely on science, not God."

Roy spoke next. "The Justice Society captures vampires for study; this violates 
the papal decree issued on the disposition of vampires. The Vatican has lodged 
several complaints with UN on the practice, but the United States government 
doesn't seem to care."

Helena was confused. "Why would they capture vampires?"

Jean Paul stood up, waving the netfax again. "Because they're stupid, that's 
why! They think they can control the vampires, make them into weapons, learn 
from them."

"I'll call Monsignor McNider in Los Angeles; he used to be pretty friendly with 
the Society leader," Roy said. "Monsignor McNider is a good old man; I met him a 
couple of weeks ago when he was on sabbatical in Israel. He told me about his 
dealings with the Society during the California riots."

Jean Paul began cursing in French and then excused himself to puke, as he put 
it. "What do we do now?" Helena asked.

"Try to find those missing vampires before the Society does," Roy answered 
glumly.

***

Though they had been against it, both Jean Paul and Father Harper had to agree 
in the end to let Helena pursue the few leads they had for the whereabouts of 
Grayson and the Gordon girl. It would take the combined efforts of Roy and Jean 
Paul to stall the members of the Justice Society when they arrived in Gotham 
City.

It finally made sense to her why Commissioner Gordon had been so adamant about 
what was to happen to his daughter. He must have suspected immediately after 
Bruce Wayne's secret was revealed that the governor would be worried about his 
links to the reclusive millionaire. A political insider like Gordon knew that 
measures would be taken to prevent any embarrassment. Some of those measures 
might include his daughter being taken to a secret government lab to be studied. 
While not making the accusation directly, Father Harper had hinted that it was 
how the government was creating metahuman agents.

The files Gordon had provided indicated several land holdings and pieces of real 
estate in the city owned by Bruce Wayne. Some of these properties were connected 
by a series of old tunnels that ran under the city, tunnels originally dug 
during the Revolutionary War to hide contraband from the British. The police had 
checked the holdings, but had not explored the tunnels themselves. It was 
possible that Wayne, with his vast financial resources, had been able to create 
one, if not several, secret hideouts beneath the streets of Gotham City.

A Swiss guard, in plainclothes, offered to escort her, but all she asked for was 
the man's overcoat and hat so she would not be noticed as she made her way 
through the city. She would have to walk, to avoid contact with anyone who might 
suspect her true intentions. She didn't mind, because she the time in the fresh 
(well, somewhat fresh) air of the open city to clear her mind of the lustful 
thoughts that kept nagging her.

What had the vampire named Bruce Wayne planted in her mind? True, remembering 
her encounter with him, she did find him attractive. She was human, and given to 
human failings that she tried very hard to overcome. She had always felt 
fortunate that she had abided by the Church's teaching of 
celibacy, never giving in to the temptations of the flesh. How difficult it had 
been as a young teenage girl, surrounded by the handsome young male priests that 
helped in her daily studies. Some of them had been no older than Jean Paul, and 
some had made her wonder if she had made the right choice. Their courage and 
faith had helped strengthen her resolve.

She walked for a few hours, weaving in and out of the sudden drizzles that 
seemed to be unrelenting in their attempts to drown the city, until she reached 
an area of Gotham known as Crime Alley. The files had indicated that it had been 
here that the mad priest, Father Joseph Chill, had attacked and killed Thomas 
and Martha Wayne, shooting them with a small caliber handgun. It was never 
officially revealed, but he had used silver bullets. Silver, it seemed, reacted 
negatively with the particular body chemistry of a vampire, acting like an acid 
when exposed to the tissue. Chill had run off before being able to kill the boy, 
and no explanation had ever been given. The Church had cooperated with the local 
authorities and Chill had been sent to prison where he died. His conviction had 
been based upon the testimony of then 9-year-old Bruce Wayne.

If Thomas and Martha Wayne had been pure vampires, the truth had never been 
known. Vampire bodies look no different than human bodies in death, and only 
genetic analysis would reveal the slight differences in DNA. It was one of the 
reasons vampires had been able to operate outside the public attention, and also 
the reason why the Church had not pursued them with vigor. Without the science 
to prove their existence, the Church would be seen as sanctioning murder. 

Bruce Wayne had grown like a normal child, as most vampire children do. It 
wasn't until he reached puberty that he had disappeared to study abroad with his 
guardian, Alfred Pennyworth. At puberty, the vampiric changes take place, 
beginning with the sensitivity to ultra-violet light. The Church rationalized 
this as saying the sun was the Light of God, and no unholy creature could stand 
before it.

She looked around, ensuring she was alone. A bum snored loudly from a stoop, and 
Helena reached into her small money pack on her utility belt and pulled out a 
few American dollars. She stuffed them into his shirt pocket and made a small 
prayer for his soul. Convinced that he would be in a drunken rest for several 
hours, she stripped off the coat and covered him with it. She had chosen the 
purple and black outfit this time, and adjusted her bolt quiver at the side. 
This uniform was a little thicker than her solid black one, but had not been 
blessed. She was taking a risk.

She found the manhole cover that had been indicated on the map, and moved it. 
Many would be surprised by her strength, but the truth was that the Church 
demanded a regiment of physical exercise from it's younger members. Too long, 
the stereotype of overweight, lazy clergy had damaged the reputation of the 
Church. Helena represented the Pope's new generation of Warriors for God. Taking 
one last look around and pulling out her maglite, she climbed down into the 
sewers of Gotham City.

***

They did not look normal, not to the shrewd eye of Father Harper as he stood on 
the sidewalk outside the church. A small crowd of reporters and photographers 
stood behind a yellow police tape erected as soon as the Society's private jet 
had landed at Gotham International. Jean Paul, in full Titan uniform, hand on 
his sword stood slightly behind the priest, offering whatever support his friend 
would need. 

A gray van, escorted by state police cars, pulled up in front of the church, 
amid a shower of flashes from cameras and the monotone sounds of reporters 
speaking into cameras. The side door opened and the occupants started filing 
out. Roy recognized all of them, but of course anyone would, since they were 
celebrities. 

A man in a white and red costume, holding the hand of a small woman in a blue 
and white one approached first. Roy recognized the pair as Hawk and Dove, Carter 
and Sheira Hall. Hawk was the team leader and had been with the team since it 
had been formed. The file the Vatican had supplied on the Hall's indicated that 
Carter Hall, once a practicing Catholic, had given up on religion shortly after 
a trip to Egypt years before. There had been no information on Sheira Hall, 
other than she had been a student activist prior to meeting Carter, who  was ten 
years her senior.

The Flash, publicly known as Barry Allen, stood out in his bright crimson 
outfit. The Vatican had worked for years to find out more about the seemingly 
mild-mannered man, who said little in 
public, but all efforts had failed. Allen was for all intents and purposes, 
simply a normal man with extraordinary ability. He had been clocked recently at 
Mach 2 out in Nevada.

The tall, gangly man next to him was Ralph Dinby, a man who had experimented 
with several chemical compounds until he had discovered a way to make his body 
pliable. He was not well-liked by the Church, since he was openly homosexual and 
Father Harper had been given strict instructions to bar entry into His House by 
this man and the individual behind him.

Perhaps the most feared operative of the Justice Society, Dr. Fate claimed to be 
the divine messenger of the Lord of Order, which brought him in direct 
confrontation with Church dogma. While the Church abhorred violence, both Roy 
and Jean Paul knew that under no circumstance was Dr. Fate allowed entry onto 
sacred ground.

"That's far enough, Mr. Carter," Father Harper said , holding up a hand.

"I prefer that you use my code-name in public, Arsenal," Hawk said, indicating 
that the government had its files on the Titans.

"Very well," he began, saying a silent prayer for strength. "We will discuss 
everything here. Certain members of your party have been refused entry into the 
church."

Dr. Fate moved forward, his golden helmet, which covered his face hiding his 
features. "We do not wish to have this break down into a contest of whose 
territory is whose."

"Bite me," Jean Paul said, taking a step forward. "You're as bad as the 
vampires, mon ami; how do I know you're not a blood sucker underneath that 
helmet?"

"We don't have time for this," Hawk said, putting a hand on Dr. Fate's chest. 
"We have the governor's authorization to take over this situation, he's revoked 
the Vatican's authority in this matter."

"True, but this falls under United Nations jurisdiction," Father Harper 
countered.

"You're just stalling for time," the Elongated Man said. It was obvious he had a 
beef with the Church. "You want to kill these vampires. That's the way the 
Church has been since it was formed, destroy anything that is different."

"Listen fruit pie," Jean Paul started.

"Piss off, Azrael," Dinby said, using Jean Paul's Titans code-name. "You're the 
worst of the entire bunch, a womanizing drunk of a priest!"

"I'm not a priest, you genetic mistake," Jean Paul said moving past Father 
Harper.

The Flash moved quickly between the two. "Please, guys, not in front of the 
cameras!"

"Barry's right," Dove said, her voice soft. "Its obvious we aren't going to 
solve anything here. I suggest that we go to our hotel and contact the District 
Attorney. Local legal authority has the right to supercede the UN sanction in 
cases of vampires. We'll get a court order signed by a 
judge."

Hawk looked at his wife, and Roy could sense the anger flowing away from the 
man. The woman had the most amazing calming effect on him. "Okay." He turned to 
the priest and extremely agitated monk. "I'm warning you, though, we will be 
watching. You try and take these vampires out, I'll 
personally hand your bloody asses to the Pope."

Jean Paul flipped the man off and stomped back into the church. Father Harper 
waited for the van carrying the heroes to leave. His attempts to keep the 
Society out of this had failed, and he knew it would only take a few hours for 
the District Attorney to get the court order needed to give the government 
heroes the authority they needed to proceed with their operations.

The crowd started to disperse and it began to rain. Father Harper turned and 
went inside.

***

Barbara sensed her first, the human female in the middle of her cycle. A slight 
chill ran up her spine as she realized that this female was moving towards them 
in a deliberate manner. Dick, still caught up deciding their future, at first 
didn't realize what was happening. When he sensed the woman, he jumped up. For a 
second, he closed his eyes and stretched out his senses the way Bruce had showed 
him. "Damn." 

"What is it?" Barbara asked.

"I can smell the silver...it must be the woman who was with the swordsman."

Barbara moved immediately to the emergency exit, with Dick following. They would 
run, for their battle was not with the woman. They were hungry, having not feed 
for at least a day, for neither would partake in the remains of Jason. To Dick, 
it seemed too wrong. Jason had been his brother after all.

Barbara saw the end of the flashlight beam play across the bottom of the front 
entrance of the secret lair, and moved through the emergency exit and started 
climbing the ladder that led to the streets above. It was night, and the two 
could move into a crowd and blend in.

Part of Barbara wanted to fight, to defend her territory, but she knew that Dick 
was right in not wanting to kill the woman. If she were to be killed, it was 
possible that the Vatican would send more hunters, for the male sentimentalism 
of the Church could not abide by the slaughter of one of its daughters. No, 
their battle was with the blonde-haired priest with the sword, the one they had 
seen smiling as he had decapitated their Blood Father.

With little effort, Barbara flung the manhole cover away and heard it hit a 
nearby car. She still was amazed at how much she had changed since that night. 
That night, a cold dark one in October, they had laid in the grass of a field 
outside Wayne Manor. She had been a virgin until then, but everything seemed to 
be so natural. He had taken her, first as a woman, then as prey. His fangs had 
slowly pierced her neck, even as his body had pierced her womanhood. Pain, 
ecstasy, more pain, then the tingling as his vampiric seed moved from her neck 
through her veins into her heart. 

They came out onto the street in the middle of a pouring rain. Barbara helped 
him out and they walked hand in hand towards the end of the alley. They were 
halfway through when figures began to step out of the shadows. "Where ya goin?"

Barbara saw at least six youths, not much younger than Dick, each brandishing a 
knife or pipe. She saw the hint of evil in their eyes as they contemplated the 
things they were about to do. It was on these maggots of society that they had 
been taught to feed. This was their natural prey, the outcasts that were never 
missed. If any of these boys were to disappear tonight, wouldn't society 
secretly breathe a sigh of relief? Weren't the vampires akin to the shark, 
cleaning up the urban food chain to allow the rest of humanity to live 
peacefully and grow?

The lead boy, a red haired, freckled boy with crooked teeth spoke up. "That's a 
mighty pretty piece of tail ya got there." He stared at Barbara's chest, which 
was obvious in the soaked T-shirt she wore. She silently wished she had worn a 
bra, but since her turning, she found such things as undergarments to be too 
constrictive, too much of a barrier from allowing her lover to touch her.

"Leave now, meat," Dick said, pushing Barbara slightly to the side.

Another boy laughed and grabbed his crotch. "I got your meat right here, pretty 
boy!" The other youths laughed and Barbara started to move towards the alley 
wall. Dick moved his neck from side to side, and she heard it pop. She loved the 
sound; not because her lover was preparing for the 
battle, though to watch him move in the hunt was pure joy. No, the sound 
reminded her of their loving, when he would arch so hard at the end, she could 
hear his vertebrae crack from the effort.

Two of the boys jumped for Dick, while the rest went for Barbara. In an 
instance, her vision changed as the protective membranes rose over her eyes. She 
saw in patterns of heat now, and could anticipate their moves by the color of 
their muscles as nerve ending were excited to stimulate the muscles of their 
limbs. The first made a reach for her shirt, trying to rip it off. She extended 
her claws and brought it straight down, cutting through the soft flesh of the 
boy's wrist.

As the boy stumbled back, she reached out with her other hand and caught another 
attacker by the throat. He screamed as she bared her fangs and bit him, right on 
the Adam's apple. The sweet blood poured into her mouth, energizing her.

A knife had managed to pierce Dick's shirt and he tore it off, intending to use 
it as a weapon. In the rain, it had become wet and he wound it until it was a 
long, whip like thing. He used it to grab the wrist of the boy with the knife 
and twisted so that it held the boy secure. As the boy's partner moved in to 
pull Dick back, Dick leapt into the air, back flipping over his caught prey. The 
extra strain caused the wet shirt to twist the boy's arm and a definitive crack 
could be heard as the arm broke.

Barbara tossed her bleeding attacker down and jumped another one. He hit her and 
screamed, but it only served to make her pulse race in excitement. The smell of 
blood was strong, not only from her kill, but from the one handed boy screaming 
against the wall. She saw Dick toying with his assailants, leaping and jumping, 
using his shirt to yank and pull limbs. A small fire was being lit in her 
abdomen, which would travel to her thighs soon as the blood lust consumed them. 

She was about to feast upon the panicked boy beneath her, when she was sent 
reeling by a kick to the side of the head. Barbara rolled to see a leather clad 
woman, armed with a crossbow helping up the boy. "Don't move, Barbara," the 
woman said.

Barbara hesitated, caught between blood lust and the need to survive. Dick 
finished off his attackers and whirled. "Get away from her!" he cried in voice 
that sounded like pure torture. "Don't kill her!"

Helena took a step back, to keep both of them in her line of sight. The male, 
whom she assumed to be Dick Grayson, stood panting in the rain, his dark hair 
plastered with rainwater. Lightening flashed and she saw the muscular chest 
heaving, the biceps twitch. It was happening all over again. 

She saw herself nude, standing before a window in a large room, no doubt in a 
castle. There was a small fire burning in the fireplace, and she could feel the 
warmth on her back. As she stared out at the snow-covered hills, there was a 
touch on her shoulder that sent tingles washing through her. Her hairs stood on 
end and she felt herself becoming hot in strange places. The lips of Dick 
Grayson moved along her neck, as his hand slid down her side, his fingertips 
barely touching her.

She reached an arm back as his hand moved to her chest. She felt his hair and 
moved her hand down to his back, to the shoulders that rippled with hidden 
power. He moved her arm away and grabbed her other one, slowly putting them up 
above her head. His strong hand easily held her two wrists together, while his 
other arm, wrapped around her abdomen, pulled her closer to him. Slowly, she 
could feel something pushing at her, down there, where no man had ever been.

Helena broke off from the dream and moved the crossbow to where Grayson was, 
only to find he wasn't there. She looked around the entire alley, but found only 
corpses. She had again failed and prayed to God to help her in this most 
difficult task of fighting off the urges that she knew she couldn't.

***

They sat atop of the building, looking down into the alley. It had only been 
luck that Dick had the presence of mind to use the dream-sight on the hunter. 
Still, Barbara was uncomfortable with the way Dick looked at the woman down 
below. Certainly the woman was beautiful, there was no doubt and she was of 
innocent, virgin blood. Did Dick intend to make her part of the Clan? Would 
Barbara have to endure the torture of watching the man she loved servicing the 
other members of their extended family, as was the way?

When Dick had not immediately ascended to the position of Blood Leader, 
Barbara's heart had jumped for joy. Was he going to declare his undying love for 
her and her alone, preferring to live a solitary existence, just as Thomas and 
Martha Wayne had? "Dick, honey, we have to go," Barbara said softly, a small red 
tear running down her face.

Dick turned to her; his determined look replaced with the boyish grin that had 
first charmed her. "You have nothing to worry about, my love; I know what you 
think and you are wrong. For all the nights that the moon shall rise for all of 
the eternities to come, I will love no other but you. Some call us unholy; 
others say we're are soulless. I know they are wrong, for I pledge my soul to 
you forever more and to no other shall I make this vow. If you die tomorrow, the 
I will surely rip my own heart out and offer it up as a sign of my devotion."

The tears flowed easily and she threw her arms around him. It was her turn to 
cry.

***

From his vantage point, Jean Paul could see the vampires embrace. His hand 
twitched on his sword, his desire to kill them almost overwhelming him. He knew 
he was lucky to have overheard Helena talking with Father Harper about the route 
she would take. He knew that she would find the blood-sucking bastards.

He prayed to God, asking for strength and slowly removed his sword from its 
scabbard. With a cry and a leap, he came down, his sword blazing an arc in the 
dim light.

***

Helena heard the battle cry, and instantly recognized Jean Paul's voice. It had 
come from above and she looked to the sky. Rain pelted her eyes, but she was 
able to make out movement on a rooftop. She quickly ran for a fire escape that 
led up and started to climb.

***

Dick tried a blocking move, his hand batting at the flat of the blade, but it 
burned his skin. The masked priest, the killer of his Blood Father, cursed at 
him in French, but Dick ignored it. He tried several different moves to put a 
hold on the man, but the hunter was too quick and 
experienced. 

The blade came at Dick's head and he dodged, but the swing carried through and 
the blade sliced across Barbara's torso. He screamed as she fell, blood gushing 
from the wound.

***

Barry Allen had been assigned to watch over the Titan known as Azrael, and he 
hadn't been particularly pleased about it. He was the "normal" member of the 
Society, the outcast, and the oddball. He was the Flash to the world, but the 
Gopher to his team. 

He hated being on the Society, but he really had no choice. He would need 
support from other members of the metahuman community in order to let his dream 
come true, a dream where metahumans were not controlled by the government, but 
were controlled by their passions and their morality. He even had a name for 
this dream: the Justice League.

He had hoped that membership within the Society would give him access to other 
like-minded individuals, but that had been a bust. He was glad that he kept the 
real extent of his powers a secret. 

The Society had no idea how fast he could really move.

He watched the Titan and the vampire battle and he felt a twinge of regret. He 
knew, as a scientist, that vampirism was much more than a genetic anomaly, but 
possibly an entire evolutionary tree to be investigated. Experiments conducted 
by the government showed that vampires did not necessarily need human blood, as 
so much as they were extremely protein deficient, among other things. He 
believed that the long war between vampires and humans might have been started 
as a defense by the vampires against human persecution. The Church, in an effort 
to establish its place as the Knowing Authority, came up with the story of 
fallen angels and women of ill repute as a way of physically showing the effects 
of sinful life.

Barry was protestant. He didn't give a hoot what the Pope or the Church thought. 
He believed God created all things for one reason or another.

Because of that, he knew that today was his last day with the Society.

***

Helena leapt over the edge of the roof and tumbled over the fallen form of 
Barbara Gordon. The girl was gasping and losing blood quickly. "Hold on," Helena 
said.

She saw Jean Paul fighting with Grayson, and a quick image of her dream-state 
lovemaking entered her mind. She shook her head and looked down at the dying 
girl again. Barbara reached up and grabbed Helena's hand. In that instant, the 
connection had been made.

Helena saw, for the first time, what life was like through different eyes, eyes 
that had not been blinded by the desire to be perfect. Whereas Helena had strove 
for approval, Barbara had worked for independence. As Helena had collected 
accolades from members of the clergy, the daughter of Commissioner Gordon had 
collected secret kisses on warm summer nights. A voice cried out in Helena, 
screaming at her that she had denied herself, that she had taken the Church on 
as a surrogate father when hers had been murdered.

There was a flash of light and Helena was there, in the car when the bullets had 
broken through the glass. She remembered her father throwing himself over her 
and how his body had jumped with each strike of a bullet to flesh. The pain of 
watching this man, who had dearly loved his daughter, make the ultimate 
sacrifice had made her withdraw.

Gone was the young girl who flirted with boys at parties, that watched MTV after 
church services and ignored the comments made by the other children about her 
father's line of work.

Passion had been buried, only to resurface by a chance encounter with a man 
consumed with a darker passion of his own.

***

Dick wanted to go to Barbara, especially when he saw the female hunter appear, 
but he knew if he turned his back, then the sword would be jammed in it. He 
wanted to hate this man, the one who had murdered his Blood Father, he wanted to 
feel the salty goodness of revenge rise up in his throat, but he could only 
think about the woman he loved.

Finally, he had decided he had enough, and began a series of moves to force his 
attacker to move the sword where he wanted it. Dick knew that even if he timed 
his strike just right, he would be hurt badly. His attacker thought he saw an 
opening and tried to skewer him, but Dick brought his 
hands up on either side of the blade. With a quick move, he snapped the blade.

Fragment of silver dug into his palms, and blood poured from the wounds as they 
enlarged and he screamed. His attacker stopped and held the broken sword in a 
state of disbelief. "Son of a bitch," Jean Paul said.

Dick kicked out, catching Jean Paul in the stomach, but the armor took the brunt 
of the blow. Jean Paul reached to his side and drew a dagger and prepared to 
plunge it into Dick's chest when a red blur whipped past.

Jean Paul's empty fist hit Dick with a thud.

Jean Paul looked at the Flash, standing next to him, holding the knife. "What 
the hell are you doing?"

Barry didn't answer and Dick took the chance to run over to Barbara.

***

Helena backed away as the vampire approached the fallen girl. He knelt slowly 
down and picked up her head. She was pale and small rivers of blood flowed from 
her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she began.

He smiled and put a single finger to her lips. "I love you, please stay with 
me."

She coughed. "I don't want to die. I want to stay with you."

He was crying now. "You will be with me, I promise, nothing will ever keep us 
apart."

She tried to speak, but the words simply couldn't be formed. The blood from her 
wound stopped flowing and she passed.

Dick howled into the night and dropped the body. He turned to the three others. 
"Are you happy now? Are you satisfied? Is your God pleased?"

The assembled hunters could only stare as the vampire shook with rage. Blood was 
pouring from his eyes and hands and Helena saw his claws extend. She assumed a 
defensive position, as did Jean Paul and the Flash.

"Perhaps God isn't satisfied, but I don't care. This world is nothing to me now, 
damn you! You can have it!" he cried. Then he took one clawed hand and raised it 
in the air. With swiftness that only Barry could perceive, he brought the hand 
down into his own chest and dug deep. There was a gory pop as he pulled out his 
own heart.

For a long moment, the vampire looked at them and then slowly knelt. As his 
life's fluid poured into the puddle of rain collected on the roof, he smiled 
briefly and then fell forward.

***

"Are you sure this is the right decision?" Father Harper asked as Helena 
finished packing.

"Yes. I've realized that there is a part of my life missing."

He nodded. "Maybe you just need some time, perhaps a vacation?"

She smiled at him. He was trying very hard, but was failing miserably. "I saw a 
so-called unholy creature kill himself over the life he couldn't have. Do you 
know that he loved more in that instant than I have in my whole life?"

"I know what it is to love; it is a beautiful thing. The Church loves you..."

Helena held up a hand, cutting him off. "No, the Church loves my skills, but 
does it love me? How can a an institution based on love sanction something as 
brutal as murder?"

"It's not murder."

She closed her suitcase. "To me it is. I understand how you feel, I do, Roy. It 
was like when my father died. I think I felt it was because I wasn't a good and 
proper girl. I mean, I didn't go sleeping around; I was only 12 for goodness 
sake, but I think I felt that God was punishing me for not being a strict 
Catholic."

"God doesn't punish in that way," Roy responded.

"I know, but I also know that I don't belong here. I want to help, but I think 
there is a better way. I'm not so sure that vampires and other such creatures 
are as unholy as the Church says."

"Consider this a test of faith."

She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. "I have faith; I believe God is 
wonderful and kind, and I also believe that he doesn't want me here. I think 
this whole event was to open my eyes that I cannot deny what I am, a passionate 
person who isn't satisfied with wearing a habit and praying all day. We all have 
our vocations, mine just isn't here."

They walked out of the church together and stopped at the bottom of the steps. 
"Will you tell Jean Paul I said good-bye?"

Roy nodded. "He's been upset since the whole thing. I think he's having a crisis 
of faith as well."

"Good. Maybe he'll straighten up."

They laughed and Roy added, "I don't think so, but we'll see. I will have to 
ponder what you have said and what we have all learned. Maybe we'll see things 
alike one day." Then he remembered cradling his dead wife and his face darkened. 
"But I doubt it."

A car pulled up and a man with close-cropped blonde hair got out of the driver's 
seat. "You ready?"

Helena smiled at Barry. "Yes," she said handing him her bag. She went to get in 
the car, but noticed a young man sitting in the passengers seat.

"Oh, Helena, allow me to introduce a friend of mine, this is Hal Jordan," Barry 
said as he put the bag in the trunk.

"Jordan? Any relation to 'Backhawk' Jordan?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact," he said looking her over, "he was my grandfather. I've 
taken over the family business, quite a pilot myself. Barry says he's got an 
idea for a team, thought I'd look into it."

Helena and Barry piled into the car and drove away.

~Fin~