Rafe's Rules Read Free Page A

bowl of soup.
    Perfect.
    I stepped inside, the heat and noise washing over me. It smelled pretty damned good, but I wasn’t there to eat. Ignoring a waiter who sidled up to help me, I made my way over to the priest. He glanced up as I approached.
    ‘Hello, Father,’ I said. ‘May I have a word?’
    He looked surprised, but indicated the chair opposite. I sat down. He was in his late thirties, his thinning hair combed over his scalp, his eyes magnified behind dense glasses.
    ‘Sorry to trouble you,’ I said, ‘but I wonder if I could ask a favor.’
    ‘How can I help you, miss?’
    ‘Over in the corner –’ I raised my eyes past his shoulder – ‘there’s a man sitting on his own. He’s a friend of mine. His wife died a month ago and he’s devastated.’
    ‘Oh,’ said the padre, looking nonplussed. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’
    ‘The thing is,’ I said, ‘he’s shutting everybody out. He won’t talk to me, he won’t talk to his parents or his late wife’s mom and dad. It’s like he’s keeping all this grief inside, you know? And it’s killing him, Father. I can just see it.’
    ‘Most unfortunate,’ said the priest, blinking.
    ‘Father,’ I said, placing my hand over his and leaning forward, urgency creeping into my voice, ‘do you think you could try talking to him? Maybe persuade him to open up? To, I don’t know, see a counsellor or something? He’s a churchgoing man, though I don’t believe he’s been in a while. He’ll listen to you, I’m sure of it.’
    ‘Well, I don’t know,’ said the priest, glancing up at the clock on the wall.’
    ‘Please, Father,’ I hissed, allowing hysteria to tinge my eyes. ‘You might be his last hope.’
    He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. ‘All right,’ he said.
    ‘Thank you so much.’
    ‘What’s your friend’s name?’
    ‘Oscar,’ I said. I pointed him out. The priest began to pick his way between the tables toward where DeVane was sitting.
    Rafe’s Rule Number One. Vampires will always react with fear and hatred to a religious symbol carried by somebody of devout faith.
    Now, it’s widely believed that vampires fear crosses. This is one of those myths that’s partly true. There’s nothing inherently powerful in the crucifix itself, but it acquires its potency when it’s wielded by a Christian who believes in it and what it represents. And the same goes for other religions. A Muslim with a crescent symbol, a Jew carrying a Star of David – any of these will be highly offputting to a vampire.
    I couldn’t very well march up to DeVane brandishing a crucifix and expect him to turn tail and run, because I have no religious faith. Too much cruelty and madness in the world for me to buy into any of that. But my new friend the priest was a holy man, and the silver crucifix round his neck would surely be like Kryptonite to Oscar.
    I half-rose from my seat, craning over the heads of the diners. In the corner the priest had reached Oscar and was talking to him. DeVane looked surprised, mildly irritated at the disturbance, even.
    But he didn’t look repelled, or enraged, or scared shitless.
    Damn.
    I got up and strode out, not looking back till I was out on the sidewalk and able to peer in through the fogged-up windows. The padre was looking back toward his table in bewilderment, as DeVane waved his hand, dismissing him and burying his head in his paper.
    I decided to call it a day. I’d applied Rule One, and DeVane had come through with flying colors. He hadn’t been freaked out by the crucifix. Which meant either that he wasn’t a vampire, or that the priest wasn’t as holy as his garb suggested and therefore that the crucifix he wore had no power.
    Which meant I needed to move on and test Rule Two.
    (As it so happened, three months later, and long after this was all over, I read in the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer that a 38-year-old priest, Father William K. Finney, had been arrested and charged on multiple counts of