I adjust my clerical collar as I look in the mirror. Push my fine blond hair back, I grab my comb and perfect the part. The face that looks back at me from the mirror looks tired.

No, more than that. It looks haggard, with large dark circles under the eyes. No amount of combing my hair will make my face look more rested.

Tightening my fingers on the teeth of the comb, I bend them a little. Not enough so that they will break, but enough so that the wooden teeth groan in protest.

It’s not my comb’s fault I am stressed. I know that.

It’s the girl, Rue. Just when I had her right where I wanted her, she fled her wedding a little over a week ago. I’ve sent men everywhere I can think of and authorized them to use any means necessary to bring her back. Her disappearance makes me look weak to Prince Henrik, and that is the last thing I want.

The search so far has turned up nothing. Not a hint of her anywhere. She seems to have vanished into thin air.

I put the comb down, straightening my collar again. I move it a little to the left, then a little to the right. My fingers tighten. I just can’t get it perfect.

I’m representing God himself. I’m the host, His living embodiment on Earth. Perfect is the only manner that is acceptable.

Furious, I rip off the collar and fling it into the sink. I pop a couple of buttons off my black dress shirt in doing so. For long seconds I stare at the skin I’ve bared. White and raised, the scars once grew ropy with repeated violent lashings. The remnants of my penitence when I was a boy.

No more, though. I button my shirt back up, covering my skin, smoothing my shirt down over it.

No, now I’m the priest, instead of the terrified altar boy. And that’s exactly how I like it.

There’s a knock at the door of my darkened chamber.

“Come in,” I call, picking up the collar once more. I glance back as a meek boy comes in, his dark head bowed. He wears dark slacks and a dark button-up shirt, same as me. He lacks the collar, though. The crown jewel. “Yes?”

The boy holds up a tablet. “Father, I think you need to see this.”

Putting the collar on, I look at the mirror again. “I don’t have time. Summarize it for me.”

I swear, I can hear the boy swallowing. “Well, Father, it’s a video of Rue—”

“What?” I snap. Whirling, I seize the tablet. “Give it to me.”

I watch the screen anxiously. When the video starts playing, the girl is passed out, still wearing her wedding dress. A man comes on the screen, adjusting her so that she faces the screen. He is careful to keep the video camera trained away from his face, I notice.

He seems to be gloating, all while touching a girl that belongs to me. I’m livid.

Looking up, I fire off questions. “When did we get this? Who is this man?”

The boy pales. “I brought it as soon as I saw it, sir. I don’t know who the man is, perhaps—”

I glower, leaning down to the boy. My lower teeth jut out. “Has anyone else seen this?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, sir.”

Thinking for a second, I make a decision. “Let’s keep it that way. I will deal with this. You may go.”

The boy bows his head again and scurries out the open door. I watch the video three more times, getting angrier and angrier with each play of it.

I’m not sure who sent this to me.

I’m not sure why.

But I will drink the blood of the man in the video, come hell or high water. That is a promise I can make to myself and keep.