The rectory stood empty for decades, a for sale sign stuck into the soft ground outside the wrought iron gates. The attached church hadn't been used for worship since the end of the war. When the mill went out of business, the people in the small port town went with it. All that was left were the fisherman and dockworkers, who kept to themselves, mostly. The town was stagnant and full of hollow shells of places families once called home.
Angelica Hughs wasn't born in the town. She was born out of state in a giant metropolis, thinking small town life could be for her she purchased the rectory ignoring the stories as just local superstition. She didn't know what she'd be in for, she didn't know about the job she'd be taking on.
Angelica now resided in the rectory. She purchased it from the bank for what she thought, at the time, was a steal. She wondered how in the world such an ornately beautiful building was on the market for so long, and why in the world it was going for so little. The locals talked about the church, though. There were rumors of strange things that would happen there.
The rectory was built out of stone sometime in the late 1700s. It's had a small town cottage charm to it with its bay windows and arched doorway. The attached church was built out of wood, painted white with a red roof. It didn't look like it had seen a lick of paint in at least half a century. Everything was crumbling, but Angelica just didn't have the time to fix it up.
There was even a graveyard, on the other side of the church. None of the stones showed dates within the last century, though, and most are nearly impossible to read.
She had signed the contracts with the lawyers and was given the keys the same day. No one really ever reads contracts thoroughly. Lawyers can fit an awful lot into the small print, all the while telling you it's ‘just a typical house sale contract’. Except it wasn't.
Angelica has always had an interest in the arcane and mystical and the place suited her to a tee.
The house was cozy and had a wood fireplace, which Angelica happily kept going throughout the fall and winter months. There were two bedrooms, her own and a guest room, both of which were well maintained with down pillows and heavy quilts. The stone walls didn't always keep the wind at bay, but there was plenty of warmth in the house.
Angelica was a tiny brunette in her 30's. Her hair was long and flowed well past her shoulders. She tied it up in braids that wrapped around her head like a crown. Her eyes were a piercing green, which she had inherited from her mothers' side of the family.
She's got the kettle brewing on the stove and two ornate cups set on the counter, with a tray of sugar cubes and a small cup of cream, all set on a silver tray. It had been five years since she bought the property and was now settled in and getting the hang of everything.
She looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall it was nearly midnight. She was usually in bed by now, but she got a twinge in the pit of her stomach about tonight – so she made the tea.
The kettle's whistle began to steam, and Angelica grabbed a tea towel to take it off the old stove. She poured the steaming water into the waiting teapot with several teabags sitting in the bottom. She could hear the tik-tok of the clock on the wall. It was always so quiet here, no matter the time of day. Some days she found herself feeling lonely, but loneliness doesn't last. Some days were quiet, and then others weren’t.
Angelica bit her lower lip, staring at the cupboard where she kept the tea cookies. No, she said to herself not cookies tonight biscuits instead. She lay them out on the silver tray in a half circle as it's always nice to have a nice presentation. She carried the tray to the living room and set it down on the coffee table.
When she moved in, she’d had no furniture of her own, so everything inside her house and the church was from the local thrift shop. There's just the one in town, but it was usually well stocked. Mary Higgens ran it and would even call Angelica if something came in she knew Angelica had been in search of. No one used Craigslist or the internet in general for selling things around here. Mary priced items cheaply enough so that she could still keep the shop open, but offered great deals to her patrons.
The doorbell rang; Angelica stood and walked to it, she peered out the peephole first, to see who was there. She’d had premonitions of this moment for months. Her twinges didn't tell her who her guest would be, just that there would be a strange guest.
A man was standing at her doorstep, and it seemed as if he was holding onto his side, putting pressure on it. Her eyes darted to the first aid kit she kept by the door. She opened the creaking door, and the man meets her eyes.
“Sanctuary,” he groaned.
She stared at this apparition before nodding and opening the door wider to let him in.
He stumbled forward into her home, and she guided him into the living room and onto the couch. He let go of his side and removed his navy blue wool coat, revealing a white shirt beneath, marred with blood along the ribs on his left side.
Angelica helped the stranger off with his shirt, as he winced in pain.
“What was it?” she asked, tossing the shirt to the floor. He met her eyes once more. He seemed to be debating how much to tell her, and how much she already knew.
“Sword,” he responds curtly.
“Sword? What are you talking about?
The man closes his eyes and remains silent.
She'd had chatter-boxes and strong silent types, and everything in between. It was always interesting, and seldom boring five years. She'd maintained her curiosity throughout each step, throughout each guest. Every guest was different and had a different story. Involved in something she was only on the fringes of. Her domain does granted her certain powers, however. The rectory and church were places of calm, and that breeds trust, whether earned or not.
“You know I'm impartial, right?” she asked him, getting out her medical supplies. He didn't respond right away, weighing the situation. “I can't take sides. Whatever you tell me stays within these hallowed grounds.” she continued.
“I've never asked for sanctuary before,” he responded.
“That's alright. There's a first time for everything. Nothing wrong with that. How did a sword wind up through your ribs?” She asked, prodding for more information.
“Astaroth demon,” he said, helping her wrap his ribs. “She was too quick for me.”
“Astaroth, the right hand of Satan?”
He nodded, with a wry smile.
The man looked to be in his 30s, dark brown hair with a scruff of beard, perhaps not as clean cut as it could be. His eyes were the palest of blue and looked tired. He showed no otherworldly signs, so she couldn’t immediately place what he was. If he was fighting demons, though, she assumed he was a Daystrider of some sort. He could be Fae, but he was not giving her those vibes. Astaroth demons aren't easy to take down and were not prominent on this side of the world.
Angelica placed a small amount of pressure on his ribs, feeling her way around. He winced, unable to stop himself from letting out a sound.
“You've broken at least one rib. I can help with some basic first aid, but beyond that...” She trailed off, hoping he'd fill the silence with more information.
He nodded in understanding. “It will heal in a couple of days. I just didn't want to be out in case she came back.”
“Understandable. Do you know the rules?” she asked him, putting away her supplies and offering him the tea she had waiting for him. He noticed the two cups and looked at her quizzically.
“You knew I was coming?” he asked.
“You answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” she replied.
He leaned back, looking her over, trying to understand. “All I know is that this is hallowed ground and that I have to invoke sanctuary.” she nodded as he spoke. “I don't know anything beyond that.”
Angelica mulled over his response. “You can't hurt me,” she began.
“Oh – no, I would never...” he jumped in.
“You misunderstand. You simply cannot hurt me. You wouldn't be able to. You probably wouldn't even want to try, let alone attempt to act on the desire,” she informed him. “The sanctuary held here is for me, as well as for you and anyone else who finds their way here. It doesn't matter what side you or they are on. Violent actions simply cannot be performed here. Do you understand?” he nodded in response.
“And to answer your question; yes. I did know you were coming.”
He took a sip of his tea after adding a cube of sugar to the cup.
“You can have the guest room tonight if you'd like, but you'll have to leave tomorrow. There are rules.”
He looked at her, as though carefully weighing what to tell her next. “Would it be against the rules to leave tomorrow evening instead of in the morning?”
She looked up from her own tea. “You have my curiosity piqued, Sir. Why would you like to leave in the evening?”
“The daylight and I don't get along very well, I'm afraid.”
She set her cup down next to his. “Vampire!” is all she said. He nodded, opening his mouth for her to see, as he elongated his canines into sharp points, his eyes flickering to a subtle yellow.
