Blood is Thicker than Water: The Nature of Benjamin

A pleasant chuckle came from behind them. Broadstead looked into Benjamin’s smiling face. Broadstead’s jaw dropped three inches. “How did you get back here?”

“Help me up!” yelled Forte. “I’ve to set this on super fry!”

Benjamin reached down, grabbed Forte under the armpits, and pulled him upright. The machine’s lights went haywire, then went out like candles in the wind.

“Hey,” said Forte to Benjamin with a lopsided grin, “How’d you do that?”

“We can’t have any more property damage. Not in a house of God.

Forte noticed his surroundings for the first time. “But vampires can’t—wait a second!”

“I still can’t figure out how you brought us here. Mass hynopsis?” Broadstead figured he had all the angles logically covered. “And you doubled back on us in the smoke so you were behind?”

“As you say, Professor.” Benjamin’s voice was pleasant. “Now, shall we find Father Stewart? He is waiting for us.”

“Uh-uh.” Forte crossed his arms and stood rigid. “I don’t go anywhere with creatures of the night, regardless of the kind you are.”

Broadstead rubbed his hand across his forehead, trying to sooth an approaching migraine. “It’s day, Forte. We can go. Unless you’re expecting an eclipse soon?”
“It was figurative. A figurative expression. All right?”

“How on earth are we going to repair that altar?” Broadstead attacked.

“Well—”

“And don’t you think you owe this man an apology? You tried to kill him!”

“I—”

“—did a bloody good imitation of it anyway.”

“Please gentlemen,” Benjamin tried to interrupt.

“Stay out of this!” Broadstead yelled. “This has nothing to do with you!”

“But Father Stewart is here.”

Forte and Broadstead looked at the altar. Father Stewart, surveying the damage, was rubbing his chin. “That contraption of yours packs a wallop, Forte.” He blew out a solitary candle which was still burning.

“Where have you been?” Forte decided it might be wise to abandon Broadstead for a more sympathetic audience. “I’ve been worried about you!”

“I’ve been with Benjamin.”

“Oh yeah?” Forte quickly pulled out his little box. Once he was away from Benjamin, it clicked languidly. “The priest’s clean,” he said to Broadstead.

Broadstead rocked on his feet. “Fine. I see reason has lost all control here.”
Father Stewart walked to Broadstead and shook hands with him vigorously. “So glad you stopped by! We need good men like yourself.”

Forte snorted and began to fiddle with his gun.

“You need men like me for what?” Broadstead asked warily. He had no desire to become involved in the mad state of affairs he had witnessed.

“Try and think of this as an extreme journey into the world of debunking.”

Forte watched the two older men hammer out details. As if they needed a goofball like Broadstead!

“Hey father,” Forte yelled, “what is this Benjamin guy?”

“He’s my nephew,” the priest answered.

“Your nephew the vampire?”

“Not a vampire, Forte, but help against them.” The father smiled at Benjamin. “Miraculous help indeed.”