Blurry spots cloud Silas’s vision as his eye flutter open, a groan escaping his lips before letting out a raspy cough, his throat and tongue dry as can be. The last thing he could recall was drinking with Wallace and the next thing he knew he was going limp on the dance floor, the older man dragging Silas away as he lost consciousness.

What a fun time in such a short amount of time, Silas thought dryly as his nose twitched as the strong smell of rust and musk filled his nostrils.

However, it was the restrictive tightness of unforgiving rope against his wrists and ankles that really caught his attention. The rough fibers were digging into his soft pale skin, forcing his arms and legs to press against each other. It was then when Silas registered that he was lying on his side with a firm mattress underneath him, the rough dry  fabric pressing uncomfortably against the bare sides of his stomach-

Silas quickly sat up ignoring the throbbing ache in his head that followed the abrupt movement. The vampire slowly tilted his head down towards his body, that should still be dressed in the tight black dress that Sister Celia picked out for him. But his dress was gone, removed, taken from his body exposing the smooth hairless skin on his chest, stomach and back. His black pair of panties sandwiched between his thick thighs being the only thing left behind preventing Silas from being completely naked. 

“Where…are my clothes?” Silas whispered through clenched teeth, his fangs almost piercing his lips in the process.

It didn’t help that Silas was now able to spot the scattered bloodstains on the mattress. He sat on top of the largest stain, the dried up blood soaked deep into the material that every movement broke pieces of dark red crust off the surface. Silas frowned as the dry pieces stuck against his skin, the urge to hop inside a warm bath growing stronger by the minute.

It was one thing to put up with unwarranted touching and squeezing, it was another to be drugged against his will but waking up practically naked on a bloodstained mattress with rope digging into his wrist and ankles was the final straw.

Taking a deep breath in and out to settle the fire burning in his veins, Silas snapped the rope from around his wrists with one sharp jerk of his arms. He quickly moved on to ripping the rope from around his ankles, freeing his limbs from the non consensual bondage. There were red imprints left against his skin from where the rope were but the soreness was easy to ignore as he observed his surroundings.

In front of him was a camera sitting on top of a tripod, its lens reflecting Silas’s figure on the mattress. Silas merely lifted an unamused brow at the recording device. He did not know whether or not it was currently recording him. Not like it matters, Silas was going to destroy it later anyway, after he was done collecting what was owed to the church.

Behind the camera, on the wall,  hung a wall mounted toolbox. The wooden doors were open, revealing the variety of tools, a vast bit of their tips or bottoms stained crimson. On his left was a smooth curtain decorated in blood stains. On his right, bolted into the wall was a bookshelf, fully lined with several jars full of fangs with traces of blood covering the surface of the teeth and glass alike. Last time Silas checked, Wallace wasn’t a tooth fairy. Which meant there was no possible good reason as to why the human should own or have custody of that many fangs. Though it certainly wasn’t hard to guess how the green- eyed human obtained them.

“Someone has too much time on his hands.”Silas mumbled under his breath, not wanting to guess just how many vampires it would take to own all those fangs.

His target, Wallace Hilt, was the man who had visited The House of Death and Judgment 4 months prior requesting for a glass bottle full of unlimited sleeping powder in exchange for his soul. No one could have guessed what exactly he needed it for.  However, his vampire victims were going to die regardless of whether or not the Church was involved. Nothing was going to stop Wallace from killing and attacking vampires-besides death of course. For all Father Antonio knew, the older human could have been an insomniac but then again there was truly no telling with the various types of guests and visitors they receive.

One thing for sure, most of them knew how to keep the church on its toes when it was collecting time-Wallace being a prime example of this. Though the results are always the same in the end when it comes to the church, death always wins. After all, you can't willingly give up your soul via a blood contract and get upset when someone comes looking for it. At least in this case, there will be no more victims after Silas is done with his target. Though with all those souvenirs, the vampire might have to perform a cleansing on the house to make sure all the souls went on to the afterlife. Though he will worry about all that later, it's a problem for after his duty is completed. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as his gaze swept below to the table underneath the fang filled bookshelf. His nose wrinkled at the condom packet in the center, resting gently on the otherwise clean and bare surface. It did not take a genius to figure out the type of situation Silas found himself in or at least what exactly Wallace was planning on doing to him.

It was at times like this when Silas needed to smoke. He closed his eye, trying to imagine slipping a cigarette out of the box and the clicking of his lighter. Silas could practically taste the strong tobacco with a hint of familiar metallic flavor dancing across his tongue, the smoke escaping from his black lips. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed to smoke on the job. While having tobacco filling his mouth and lungs was a rather pleasing temptation, especially considering his present situation, it wasn't ideal for the hunt.

He was trying his best to keep this job as simple as possible but the human was certainly not making the vampire’s task any easier with all his tricks. Silas briefly recalled the drugging and sneered. If he didn't have some of the Soul Eater’s blood flowing in his veins, Silas would've been suffering from the side effects of the drug. Being passed out on the mattress under the mercy of  another person combined with the bloodstained setup, certainly gave off the impression of a specific type of fantasy Silas was neither into or wanted to participate in.