Chapter Text
Copia ambles through the town, the streetlights casting long shadows down the cobblestone in front of him. Everything is blissfully quiet, the only sounds the soft crunch of his boots against the pavement and the distant hoot of an owl.
He keeps his hood pulled up to hide his face, mindful of being seen. It wouldn't do him any favors to have rumors start about a strange figure walking around at night. He keeps his eyes sharp and alert, navigating the twisting lanes to the home of the witch.
He's sure about this. It seems too good to be true, that the book he’s been looking for for years, since he was a Cardinal, just magically showed up in a town near the Ministry.
“Nonsense.” He mutters to himself. He has to have a little faith. If it is true, and he's finally found it, he's going to be over the moon.
Copia continues on his path through town, narrowly avoiding the notice of a few groups of people by putting his head down as he walks. One particular woman who walks past him smells delicious, but he shakes his head again and focuses.
He'll feed again soon enough - at the ritual tomorrow night - but in order for that to happen, he needs this grimoire and the spells it contains. Copia isn't sure why he's so on edge - this is a perfectly reputable occult bookstore that he's sourced herbs and spells and other materials from countless times before.
The little bookshop had been in town for as long as Copia can remember, and he'd been thoroughly disappointed one evening when the old witch who ran the shop had informed him that, in the absence of any prospective buyers or new management, she would be closing her doors for good when she retired in a few months. Copia had been in the process of trying to sort out a new supplier when an envelope with a familiar wax seal came across his desk. It was a short message from the bookshop, informing valued customers that they would no longer be closing after a group of young witches and chaos magicians had swooped in at the last second and offered to take over the business.
Perhaps it's the idea of finally meeting this "new management" that has Copia so nervous. He'd been good friends with the original owner, often staying for long chats over afternoon tea when he went into town to pick up orders for the ministry. She was a sweet old woman; highly knowledgeable to boot, and Copia was quite sad to see her go.
Still, he supposed it couldn't be helped. It was one of the more frustrating aspects of Copia's vampiric nature, change would always find him eventually, whether he wanted it or not…
Copia reaches the bookshop, the old sign above the door creaking softly in the night air. As he pushes open the door and steps inside, memories of the previous owner flood his mind.
He knew he would miss the old witch, their hours of chatting and drinking tea were a highlight of his trips to town. Copia reminded himself that change was inevitable, and besides, he looked forward to meeting the new management that had taken over.
The shop still smells the same, powerful incense burning his nose in a good way. When he looks around, he realizes it still looks the same as well, minus a few things rearranged. Crystals were now on the opposite side of the store, and spell books were now behind the counter.
He sighs. Of course they would be.
“Hello?” A voice calls, making his skin prickle for reasons unknown. Copia looks around, and spots a young woman peeking out from a door behind the front desk.
“Eh, hello.” He greets her awkwardly, smiling nonetheless. “Sorry, I uh… I haven’t been here since new management took over, was just admiring what you’ve done with the place.”
The woman pulls the door all the way open, stepping out. She’s on the shorter side, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, with bright blue eyes. Her clothes gave her a bit of a rugged look, baggy pants and a tight shirt that showed off her figure. Copia looks away from it, feeling a blush coming on.
“Oh, well, welcome back.” She smiles at him, placing her hands on her hips. “We tried to keep things the same. Just moved a few things to fit better aesthetically.”
"I'm Rachel," The pretty young woman continues, crossing over to Copia and extending a hand. "It's nice to meet you!"
Her warm smile and friendly attitude help to dispel some of the lingering uneasiness, though the hairs on the back of Copia's neck still stand on end despite the total absence of any clear threat.
"Piacere di conoscerti" Copia says, bowing slightly before he takes Rachel's hand in his own. "You can call me Copia; the last owner, eh, might have mentioned me?"
"She did!" Rachel exclaims. "I've been wondering when you would turn up - she said you and all your friends have been coming here for ages..." She says, going back behind the counter and motioning for Copia to follow her.
"Come on back!" She calls, disappearing through the open door. Copia can hear the faint sounds of her rummaging around. "I've got your order all set, and I just made tea if you want to give it a quick look before you pay for it..." A quiet laugh rings out along with more sounds of rustling paper and the delicate clink of china.
Copia follows after Rachel as she leads the way, the slight unease he felt melting away with her friendliness and warmth.
As they step into the back room, Copia takes in the organized chaos of the space, papers and herbs and crystals scattered about with no apparent order. It reminds him of the old shop and brings a small smile to his face.
As they move further into the back room, Copia notes the smell of tea and herbal incense in the air. In the center of the room, a round, glass table is piled with numerous books, scrolls, and stacks of paper, all haphazardly arranged. He recognizes the book he's been searching for for years nestled in between a few of the other tomes, the edges of the red and gold binding peeking out.
“You’ve been looking for this for awhile, huh?” Rachel says, noting the way Copia was staring at it in awe. “Is it rare?”
“Extremely.” Copia nods, smiling to himself, giddy it’s right here… so close to being his. “I’ve been looking for a long time… I cant believe one turned up here. There’s only five of these in the whole world.” He teaches her.
"Oh wow," Rachel breathes, eyes going wide. "I knew Isaac had a good find on his hands, but I didn't know it was that rare!"
"Isaac?" Copia asks, looking around curiously.
"One of my colleagues," Rachel explains as she clears some space on the table. "He mostly does...acquisitions, I guess. He's probably upstairs right now," She continues, referring to the flat above the shop. "You'll have to meet him sometime!"
"That would be lovely," Copia says as he sits gingerly in an overstuffed old armchair. "Eh, may I?" He reaches tentatively for the book as Rachel sets a tea tray down on the table, cups and saucers rattling delicately.
"Be my guest!" Rachel grins before she busies herself with pouring tea into the flower-patterned cups. "How d'you like it?" She asks, gaze flicking between Copia and the tray.
"Oh!" Copia looks up from where he's carefully extracting the book from the clutter on the table. "Eh, milk and sugar, per favore..."
Rachel nods and goes back to her task; Copia stares at the book now in his hands at last... The Laws of Summoning, written by an unknown scribe centuries ago and referenced in several other grimoires Copia is intimately familiar with, his hands shake slightly as he traces the golden lettering on the front cover. Inside, so he's been told, are instructions for summoning all kinds of creatures from Hell - not just ghouls but demons, succubi, hellhounds, and more.
"Everything look okay?" Rachel asks, pulling Copia out of his trance as she sets a cup and saucer in front of him.
Copia's gaze is firmly fixed on the book in his hands, his heart racing with a heady mixture of anticipation, excitement and relief. He runs his fingers tenderly along the red and gold lettering on the front cover, the weight of the book feeling both incredibly heavy and incredibly light.
Rachel's question takes him by surprise, momentarily snapping him out of his trance. Copia glances at her, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and gratitude.
"Yes," He replies, his voice hushed. "It looks... perfect.”
Rachel's smile broadens, a look of genuine joy on her face. Copia can see her eyes taking in the details of the book, admiring its rarity and antiquity. It's clear that she understands just how significant this find is.
She hands him a cup and saucer filled with steaming tea, the scent of various herbs and spices wafting out, mingling with the musty old-book scent of the back room. Copia takes a small sip, savoring the earthy, herbal flavor. His tongue tingles, burning from the temperature, but it was too good not to sip.
"You know," Rachel begins, her voice a soft murmur, "This really is quite the find."
“Oh I know.” Copia chuckles, turning the book over in his hands once he places the tea cup back down. “I’m… I’m so overjoyed to have finally found it, and I’m even more grateful to you for letting me purchase such a rare book.”
"No need to thank me!" Rachel insists. "Wouldn't be much of a book shop if we kept every good find to ourselves!"
"No, eheh, I suppose not..." Copia agrees with a chuckle. He takes another sip of his tea, careful to blow on it this time. The blend is heavily spiced - ginger, cinnamon, and something else he can't quite place - and warmth blooms in his chest when he swallows. "Well, thank you for this, at least..." He raises his teacup towards Rachel.
"You're welcome!" Rachel settles into the armchair across the table from Copia, demurely picking up her own cup and saucer, and inhaling the fragrant steam.
They chat idly as Copia leafs through the book - he can't wait to curl up in his favorite armchair and go through it cover-to-cover, but that will have to wait until after the ritual. It's then, skimming one of the relevant passages, that Copia starts to feel...odd. It starts small - the sensation of being hot under the collar that is easily attributed to his multiple layers - but seems to grow with each passing second. His mouth goes dry, his stomach turns, and he starts to feel strangely lightheaded.
Copia's discomfort must show on his face, because Rachel looks at him with furrowed eyebrows and asks: "Are you alright?"
Rachel's question catches his attention, and Copia looks up at her, his usually pale cheeks now flushed an unnaturally deep shade of crimson.
"I'm... I'm not sure," he confesses, his voice shaky. "I'm feeling... warm."
The discomfort in Copia's stomach grows more pronounced, and he finds himself feeling increasingly warm and dizzy. He attempts to focus on Rachel's voice, but her words seem distant and hazy in his ears.
"I'm sorry," He says, coughing weakly. "Something... doesn't feel right." The heat seems to be coming from within, radiating outwards to the surface of his skin, yet his limbs feel strangely cold.
His vision swims, and he has to steady himself on the back of his armchair to keep from falling over. His breathing becomes heavy, like he’d just run a mile, but it feels more like someone is closing a fist around his lungs.
“S-Something… Something is wrong.” He forces out, voice weak.
Copia collapses back into the armchair as the room spins before his eyes, tugging weakly at his shirt collar. His mind is sluggish as he wonders what could have possibly brought on these sudden symptoms.
"Copia?" Rachel's voice is concerned, but she sounds muffled and distant, almost as though she's underwater. Copia wants to answer her, to beg her for help, but he can't seem to get his tongue to cooperate. He doubles over, coughing again as his vision blurs and darkens around the edges.
Rachel's hand taps his cheek gently; Copia is sure she's speaking again but he can't make out a single word. Gray spots dance across his vision and his stomach lurches - he's going to be sick if he doesn't pass out first.
In a sudden burst of adrenaline, Copia manages to look up into Rachel's kind blue eyes.
"Help me..." He chokes out, and then the world goes black.
Copia's last moments before consciousness slips away involve an overpowering wave of nausea, as if his entire body is rejecting whatever has been forced upon him. His body shudders violently, the involuntary reflex bringing up whatever contents there might be in his stomach. The sensations are overwhelmingly unpleasant, leaving Copia feeling utterly drained and helpless.
After what feels like an eternity in the darkness, Copia stirs, his consciousness gradually resurfacing like a submarine from the depths. His senses return one by one, and he hears a voice calling out to him from somewhere nearby.
“Copia…”
“Hmm…” he tries to look around, but the world is still blurry. He tries to move, but his hands are restrained, a burning sensation around his wrists.
"Hey there, you back with us?" A voice asks.
Copia's head is pounding, and the room swims before his eyes; there's an unpleasant taste in his mouth and a heavy pit in his stomach.
"Copia." The voice comes again, forcefully this time, and a hand roughly yanks his hair to make him look up. It stings, but the pain brings the world into sharper focus. A mix of confusion and relief washes over Copia when he zeroes in on a familiar face.
"R-rachel?" Copia asks, voice cracking. The room he's in is unfamiliar - utilitarian and cold, with a single harsh light shining down on him from above. "W-where are we?" He coughs, swallowing around a dry throat. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, I'm alright," She says, her demeanor oddly collected. "Don't you worry about that..."
Copia squints against the light, trying to be sure of exactly what he's seeing. It looks like Rachel, sounds like Rachel, but something is...different. Her kind eyes have turned to steel, and her face seems...sharper, somehow. Copia's bewilderment grows as he tries to make sense of Rachel's sudden transformation.
"Rachel? What's going on? Why are we here?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
He tries to reach for her, but whatever is holding his wrists is holding tight. It’s then he realizes he’s tied up, in… chains. Silver chains.
His heart drops.
“W-What…”
"Oh, Copia, sweet, sweet Copia," Rachel coos, her voice dripping with a false sweetness that sends chills down Copia's spine. He can feel a sense of dread building rapidly within him.
"We can't have you running off, now can we?" She tuts, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "The world is far too big and dangerous for one sweet little vampire, wouldn't you agree?"
"I- I'm not-" Copia stammers. "I don't understand what you're-"
Rachel slaps him sharply across the face. "There's no point in lying, Copia Emeritus." She sneers, taking cruel pleasure in the way his face visibly falls at the use of his full name. "We've been watching you for a long, long time..."
"But, the book, and taking over the shop, and-" Copia babbles, trying to make sense of it all when Rachel cuts him off again.
"A fake." She shrugs with a smirk. "And a useful opportunity. We've been looking to get close to you for quite some time now, and that vile old hag's retirement gave us exactly the window we needed."
Copia is stunned at the revelation that Rachel has known who he is all along, and had been playing a role to gain his trust. His confusion and fear give way to a burning anger, and he spits a curse at her.
He struggles against the chains, determined to escape and confront her treachery head-on. The cold metal of the chains chafes against his skin, leaving angry red marks.
"You... you deceiver! I trusted you.”
Rachel leans forward, a cruel smile on her face. "Yes, I deceived you. It wasn't hard, really. You've gotten awfully careless, Copia." She spits his name out like an insult. "You've always been far too trusting, believing the best in everyone and everything. It's a shame, really, that such naivety will be your undoing."
Copia pauses his struggling. “My undoing?”
“Oh, we have plenty of ideas in store for you, Mr. Emeritus.” A new voice says. A man comes from the shadows, almost like a scene from a movie. The man has short brown hair and creepy piercing blue eyes that stare into Copia’s soul.
He walks over to Copia, leaning down so they're practically nose-to-nose. “We’re gonna have some fun.”
Copia tries to wriggle away, but his restraints hold fast; the stinging increases as the cuffs bite into the delicate skin of his wrists - silver as well, no doubt.
"Please! Whatever I was going to pay, I can give you double!"
Isaac barks out a harsh laugh. "We don't care about your money, Emeritus. You have information that is highly valuable to us..." He explains, standing back up to his full height.
"Your blasphemous order is a scourge upon this divinely created Earth," Isaac begins to pace. "Idolatry, lust, pride... all things you encourage, aren't they, Papa?" He practically spits. "Indoctrinating God's children with your hedonistic devil music..."
Suddenly, Isaac springs, grabbing Copia roughly by the throat and forcing him to hold his gaze. "And as if that weren't enough, you're harboring an army of demonic filth at your vile little 'ministry', aren't you?"
Copia's eyes widen in fear and his chest tightens. Is his beloved home in danger?
"We know you're hiding somewhere near Linköping." Isaac tightens his grip on Copia's neck. "You're going to tell us exactly where that is so we can banish all of your demons back to Hell, and purify the poor souls you've led astray."
"I won't!" Copia chokes out defiantly.
"Oh, but you will..." Rachel says from behind Isaac, her voice still calm and sickly-sweet. "The wrath of God is nothing compared to what we have planned for you, vampire..."
The revelation that his home is in danger sends a wave of panic through Copia. He can feel his resolve strengthen - no matter what, he won't let these zealots harm the Ministry or his ghouls.
"I'll never betray the Ministry! You'll have to kill me before I tell you anything!" He gasps between ragged breaths, glaring defiantly at Isaac.
“Kill you? Oh honey, you’ll be wishing for it.” Rachel sticks out her bottom lip in fake sympathy before laughing.
Copia's heart clenches at Rachel's words, the thought of enduring what she has in store for him filling him with equal parts dread and resolve. His breathing is still ragged, but there's a fierce determination in his eyes.
"You won't break me," He grits out, "I won't let you." He braces himself for whatever she has planned next.
“That’s what they all say.” Isaac rolls his eyes. “And yet, every time, we have a pathetic, little, broken bloodsucker on our hands by the end of the night.”
"It's always the big talkers that break first," Rachel adds with a dark chuckle. "They give up their little covens as soon as they see a crucifix..."
"Hmm, start with the holy water, don't you think?" Isaac looks over at Rachel, his voice as casual as if he were asking for her coffee order.
"Why not?" Rachel shrugs, twirling the end of her ponytail around her finger. "You have fun with that, I'll see how Mark is doing with the rest of the...preparations..."
The threat in her tone makes Copia's heart sink into his stomach. What could these sadistic Jesus-freaks possibly have planned for him?
"I'll see you later, Copia," She gives him an almost flirtatious little wave as she makes for the exit. "Don't have too much fun!"
The heavy metal door slams shut behind her with an air of finality, leaving Copia alone with Isaac as he pulls a silver flask from one of the inside pockets of his jacket.
Isaac unscrews the cap while Copia watches in terror.
"A-aren't you going to ask me to tell you what you want to know first?" He asks, thinking back to interrogation scenes in various crime dramas and gangster movies.
"No," Isaac says, stepping closer. "Why, were you planning on telling me?"
Copia wants to come up with some witty retort, but fear makes his voice stick in his throat.
"Didn't think so..." Isaac says smugly, laughing almost to himself.
Copia does his best not to flinch when the first drops of holy water hit his skin. It stings, itching and burning even worse than the silver cuffs around his wrists, and Copia knows from experience that angry red welts are forming on every point of contact.
He fights to keep quiet, refusing to give his captors the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. Instead, he glares defiantly at Isaac, his jaw clenched tight.
Isaac watches with a cruel glint in his eyes as Copia struggles against the searing pain of the holy water, reveling in his torment. Without breaking eye contact, he steps even closer to Copia, a sadistic smile spreading across his face.
"Tell me, Papa , how does it feel to be at the mercy of the very forces you have rejected?" he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt.
Copia grits his teeth at him. “Fuck you and your mercy. I won’t be broken by a bunch of freaks who guide their lives by a fictional story book.”
Isaac's smile only widens at Copia's defiance, unbothered.
"Oh, sweet little Copia. You will break, in the end. They all do."
He takes another step towards Copia, his eyes alight with a fanatical fervor. "And when you do, it will be a glorious victory for the Light. You and your unholy brood will be wiped from the earth, and the world will be cleansed of your evil stain."
Copia opens his mouth to speak, but gets no chance. Isaac whips his wrist, spraying holy water from the silver flask across Copia’s body and face.
The holy water hits Copia like a barrage of molten needles, searing into his skin and leaving him gasping for breath. It feels as though his flesh is being ripped apart, each drop burning deeper than the last.
Copia writhes in agony, but refuses to scream, to give Isaac the satisfaction of hearing him beg for mercy. Instead, he grits his teeth and bites back the pain with a growl, his eyes blazing.
In a bold display of defiance, Copia spits at Isaac, earning him a blow to the face that will certainly bruise.
"That's all you've got?" Isaac asks in a mocking tone. "Not so dangerous like this, are you?"
"Now, where is your little haven of sinners?"
"You couldn't find it even if I told you!" Copia says. "You're not the first group of fanatics to come looking for us!"
Isaac rolls his eyes, seemingly unfazed by Copia's revelation. "Well then I suppose you'll just have to tell us how it is we lift up the rock that you and your fellow vermin hide under..." He says, screwing the cap back onto the flask of holy water.
"Never!" Copia declares, eliciting a short laugh from Isaac.
"Oh, you will..."
Isaac's tone is calm and calculated as he sets the flask down on a nearby table, his eyes never leaving Copia's face.
"We have all the time in the world, vampire, and we will extract every last piece of information from you. You will tell us where your little nest is, if it's the last thing you do."
He steps closer to Copia, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And believe me, you will beg to tell us, in the end."
Copia holds Isaac’s stare, glaring. “You don’t scare me.”
“Oh, I don’t have to.” Isaac shrugs, “Now tell me, little vampling,” He walks over to a table in the corner of the room, and picks up what looks to be a cup. A grail of some sort.
“Are you… thirsty?”
Isaac picks up a crystal decanter and pours some of its contents into the cup, and then turns back to Copia. He holds the cup aloft - an ornate silver chalice - and makes the sign of the cross.
"This is the blood of the covenant, which is poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins..." Isaac says solemnly, then brings the cup to his lips. He swallows once, twice, and then looks menacingly at Copia.
"Your turn, Papa..." Isaac draws closer, setting the chalice off to the side for the time being and selecting another instrument from the table.
The device is made up of two rubber-coated metal rods with leather straps that buckle in the middle. "Open wide!" Isaac taunts, holding it aloft.
There's nothing Copia can do. No matter how violently he struggles, the silver chains hold fast. His thrashing only makes it slightly more difficult for Isaac to force the metal rods between his teeth and secure the straps tightly around his head. A ratcheting lever on the side of the device is activated, and Copia's jaw is pried open with relative ease, fully exposing his sharp canine teeth.
Isaac picks up the chalice and dumps its contents unceremoniously into Copia's mouth. The sacramental wine burns his tongue and dribbles down his chin as he coughs and gags. In the end, Copia has no choice but to swallow; his breathing is only a reflex, but his body still fights tooth and nail to keep the liquid from entering his lungs.
It burns going down, like molten lava sliding down his esophagus and into his stomach, where it sits and sears a hole. Copia doubles over from the pain in his middle, coughing so hard it rattles his chest.
His body convulses, out of his control. It’s panicking. It does the only thing it can do, and sends the wine back up his throat. Copia gags and coughs as he vomits on the floor and on himself.
The vomit mixes with the sacramental wine, creating a sickening mixture of both holy and unholy. Copia gags and chokes, his body rebelling against the violation and abuse. Every fiber of his being wants to resist, to fight back, but he's powerless in this state. He can only feel the searing burn of the wine and the sickening feeling of nausea, mixed with a deep sense of grief.
"Disgusting." Isaac spits.
Copia moans, hanging his head as strings of saliva dangle from his lips. His throat is on fire, doubly irritated by the mixture of holy wine and stomach acid. He bites hard against the metal bars, but he can't close his mouth, even with his enhanced vampiric strength.
"Look at you," Isaac grabs Copia by his chin and wrenches his head upwards. "Reduced to this by a little bit of holy water and some communion wine?"
Isaac reaches around and unbuckles the strap holding the gag in Copia's mouth, pulling it out roughly. Copia coughs and flexes his jaw a few times, wishing he could reach up to wipe the drool from his chin.
"Please, I can't give you the location of the ministry! Surely any loving god would understand that I can't allow everyone there to come to harm?"
“Come to harm?” Isaac questions, “We’d do no harm to the innocent souls you led astray from God’s path. We’ll simply have them purified, baptized. Clean of sin.”
“And as for your little demons,” he goes on. “They aren’t humans. They’re monsters, and they deserve to be banished back to Hell. So you’re pleading to deaf ears, Emeritus.”
Copia grits his teeth at Isaac's cavalier dismissal of the safety of his pack. Despite the physical and mental strain he's under, his protective instincts flare up.
"They're my family," Copia grinds out, his voice hoarse from the earlier abuse. "I won't let you hurt them. As their Papa, it's my job to protect them from sadistic zealots like you. They've done nothing wrong."
“That’s cute,” Isaac mocks. “Adorable, really.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oooh, feisty.” Isaac whistles, “I like that. It’s always fun to see the “tough” ones break.”
Copia’s furious. He wants to hiss and show his fangs, show them just how “helpless” he can be once the chains come off. But his body has other ideas.
He opens his mouth to speak, but quickly shuts it when he feels his stomach rumble ominously. There’s a burning in the back of his throat and he knows he’s going to be sick again.
“You… You won’t break me…” he says with a thick voice, having to swallow hard to keep himself together.
Copia tries his best to fight it, but his gut spasms and he vomits again - all stomach acid this time, and the stinging pain of it in his throat brings tears to his eyes.
Isaac laughs cruelly at this latest display of weakness. "Ha! Look at yourself, Emeritus, you're already falling apart!"
Isaac walks back over to the little table, and picks up something Copia can't see.
"Why don't you just think about telling us what we want to know?" Isaac turns back to face his victim, and Copia can see a fine silver chain dangling from his fingers. A crucifix.
Copia is too dazed to put up much of a fight as Isaac puts the necklace on over his head, taking great care to unbutton his collar so that the stinging silver makes as much contact with his skin as possible. Satisfied, Isaac turns off the harsh overhead light and makes for the door.
"But don't you worry," Isaac looks back over his shoulder. "I won't be gone long..."
The door slams shut with an air of finality, and Copia is left alone in the darkness