It was nearly all fractured rage and clawing hunger in his mind, too long starved for much else to be important. Beneath it was clever arrogance and laughing charm that hid Lokiâ€™s avarice and lack of conscience â€“ even for a monster â€“ from the world. And no, he still had use for Nebi past this. Not like humans who were disposable containers for food â€“occasionally smarter than they let on â€“ but really nothing more.<br/><br/>So he stopped, laughed honestly at the threat and the anger â€“disappointment? He was never so good at telling â€“ and this time gave her a blood tinged kiss on the cheek without the fangs. â€œWorried, sweetie?â€ He tried not to laugh again, wiping away a stray droplet for crimson with his thumb. â€œCanâ€™t stay â€˜ere,â€ he muttered distractedly, suddenly concerned he might have lost his book.<br/><br/>But no, there it was, still stuffed into the same pocket heâ€™d put it in. A great relief to him. It was important somehow, he knew that. There were drawings of the first ones, the progeny of fallen angels, back at the dawn of time. The illustrations, though he didnâ€™t recognize them for what they were, meant something to the dim, near instinctual, clan memory. â€œGotta goâ€¦ go north. Get taâ€¦â€<br/><br/>Abruptly, he abandoned that train of thought, noticing for what seemed to be the first time the state he was in. Fine, red rock dust had gotten everywhere â€“ in his hair, his worn, threadbare, and in some places ripped clothes. â€œGet new cloâ€™se,â€ was what he decided suddenly. â€œCloâ€™seâ€¦ north,â€ Loki intoned, trying to find the previous thought again. â€œNorthâ€¦ Go taâ€¦ taâ€¦ Eden. No, Nod.â€<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">--------</div><br/><br/>The church was old, but small, and made of stone. It had a little green yard, a vegetable garden, and a wrought iron fence and was where Father Rufus spent most of his time. In the twilight, after the evening mass â€“ which consisted only of one young man and woman and an old handyman with his dog â€“ he retreated to look over a troubling piece of news.<br/><br/>He said nothing to them and did not glance at them once, but the two youngsters followed him as far as the door to his private room. When the door there closed in front of them, the woman fixed it with a disappointed look and swore. Her friend said nothing.<br/><br/>It was cozy, if warm in Father Rufusâ€™s little cottage. A desk, bookshelves lining every wall, a worn but comfortable chair for reading, soft carpet, and even a room for a bed. Heâ€™d come to appreciate that since finding himself dozing off while reading some nights. No doubt though, Rufus thought, searching through the stacks of books on the desk for the right one, the two will want in. Well, theyâ€™d just have to wait.<br/><br/>Finding that boat, and more importantly, that book, were to be their first priority. But he couldnâ€™t send them off alone. No, that would be asking for trouble. So the old Order soldier had called for some help. Sarah Jane Smithâ€¦ How perfectly common; it made Rufus smile. Quick as it came though, it vanished and he called for the two outside to come in.<br/><br/>Nerf trailed in after Roadmap â€“ the Father remembered their names had been Ashlyn and Tyler, but didnâ€™t think it mattered to them now â€“ and both decided to stand. Father Rufus was not old yet, not truly, but he was not young anymore either and it showed when he frowned, tapping the cover of a book with the title The Social Hierarchies of Vampyres: New Theories and looking the two up and down.<br/><br/>If he were to be honest with himself, he didnâ€™t entirely trust the two. But this was the job theyâ€™d been given â€“ heâ€™d been given for them â€“ and theyâ€™d do it. â€œYouâ€™ll be under the orders of a young knight, Sarah Jane Smith. She should be here shortly.â€ Roadmap seemed ready to protest, but her partner held his tongue and both nodded. â€œI want the book and whoever took it. Even if it was some young brother.â€ Again he earned nods and no words until he began to talk to them about the book under his hands, passing the time before Sarah showed up in debate about whether or not the devilâ€™s children still stalked the night.<br/><br/>When the door did finally open â€“ Rufus never locked the doors of the church, not one â€“ the paladin turned scholar would put away his book to give attention to his guest.