“Not yet.” He returned to his woodworking.
“Tomorrow, my father, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather will demand I be released. You may be the bishop, but you’re not The Council.”
The corner of Eleazar’s mouth kicked up in a sardonic grin. “Your ignorance baffles me. What a fool you are to think you will just walk away from this.”
“You said if I signed—”
“I said I would be merciful, which is more than you deserve. Come dawn, you’ll still be breathing. Consider that my show of mercy.” He lifted the handsaw and examined the blade. “I heard you had a run-in with Ms. Schrock.”
“Who?”
Certain he was well aware of his friend’s name and existence, he glared at him. “Adriel Schrock.” Eleazar set down the saw and gripped the handle of the planer. “Not many people know the story of Adriel’s mate.”
He shaved a long coil of wood off a jagged plank. Shavings gathered on the floor. He examined each edge for splinters and roughness, set on smoothing his work until it appeared flawless.
“Cerberus was a cruel bastard. He never had a kind word to say to his mate. Some males are simply that way, entitled and suffering from a god complex. After too much time left to their own devices, they cannot be fixed.”
Eleazar replaced the section of wood with another and continued to shave down the edges. Each shift of his booted feet sifted through the collection of shavings gathered on the floor and the scent of wood mixed with the putrid odor of dry, rotting blood.
“Aside from The Elders and those who traveled here on the Charming Nancy, no one remembers Cerberus. They call Christian Schrock a bastard because they assume Adriel had him out of wedlock. But that’s simply not true. Christian is the son of mated parents. His mother is a female of honor and his sire, well… Suffice it to say, Christian’s genealogy speaks for itself, and that is why he holds a seat on The Council.”
Appearing to grow tired of Eleazar’s story, Silus prowled the cell from dark corner to dark corner. His agitation showed like that of a caged animal.
Eleazar continued to sand down the pieces of wood until every edge and side was smooth. He wasn’t a monster, after all.
He used a drill press to carve twin holes into one short side and fed a rope through the holes, knotting the braid so it wouldn’t slide free. He tested the handle, satisfied with its sturdiness.
Retrieving his satchel of nails, he selected several strong ones. He aligned two planks and nailed them to a supportive piece, edge to edge, forming a perfect right angle. He secured the inner seam with another two-by-four.
“I did not know Cerberus, and back then, Adriel was a stranger to me. Today, she’s one of my closest friends.” He met Silus’s stare with a punishing glare. “I’m very protective of those who have earned my favor and loyalty.”
He removed more nails and hammered another section to the foot of the larger piece, forming another ninety-degree angle.
“Cerberus was a problem. He could not be taught to do right and there was no untraining his mind from its defiant patterns. He would have beaten and raped Adriel until he killed her, or at least eviscerated her soul and left nothing more than a hunk of flesh and bone.
“Rabid immortals must be put down when feeish, but when they’re not feeish, lines are blurred. Evil must be contained.”
After hammering the fourth side to the base, he now had a cavernous box. Admiring his work, he lifted it by the roped handle and leaned it carefully against the wall, facing the cell. He glanced up, noting it was certainly long enough to fit a man but not wide enough for shifting or twisting.”
He lifted the last long piece and sanded the edges. “Tonight, when you attacked my mate, you nearly drained her of blood. They say immortals have eternal life, and we claim only an unanswered immortal risks the chance of turning.”
Eleazar stared through the dark cell with glistening, dilated eyes. “But I’ve been around long enough to know that inside every immortal lurks the one thing we all fear.” His tongue traced over his long fangs and his claws distended. “We’re all just trying to deny our nature but, deep down, we’re all susceptible to our basic instincts.” A low growl rumbled from Eleazar’s chest. “We all hide a vicious vampire inside.”
Silus stopped prowling about the cell. Now, he had his full attention.
“As immortals, we require blood. It’s the one key to our eternal salvation. Without it, we are weak. Our strength wanes and our bodies atrophy. Madness sets in as the hunger for blood wholly possesses our every desire. You see, Brother Silus, life is full of duality. Heaven requires a hell, good is balanced by evil. And when a species’ only guarantee is the gift of eternal life, it can quickly flip into a curse. As immortals, our bodies naturally refuse to die, even when our souls beg for a merciful death. Our flesh can waste away and organs can painfully decline, slowing our healing, but we will heal. That is our gift, God’s intended promise to us. Our species can regenerate limbs and graft skin, but without the nourishment of blood, the process is long and painful.”