Nightingale
It didn't take much for Jimmy to collect himself after the initial wave of sorrow passed on. Nestled inside the embrace of his Other Father, he felt...right. House never judged his beloved children, especially this one. His disdain for religion had been put aside for now, watching Novak's red tears reduced to just trails in his not quite perfect face. It was when their eyes met that Jimmy saw the moonlight shine down in pale colors. He knelt down in direction of the Crucifix and performed the Holy Sign. "It's been so long since I tended to Mass," the disowned priest whispered intimately while grabbing a flick and a match. "It's not the ideal solution but it'll have to do." "Until what? They tire of chasing us down like animals and burn this place down?!" Patrick spat back, "We might as well just hand our heads on a platter."
"Severely doubt it; Robertson has a sizable ego and burning the House of God would make him lose his standing," House remarked sourly while making himself comfortable laying on top of the congregational bench, "He won't burn us down at least until sunrise." Both fledglings looked at him curious at how well he seemed to know their captor. But, as a sign of trust, Jimmy decided against asking such information and went on to light the candles at the foot of the Madonna and Child. "Si Santo Figlio di Dio la cui innocenza ci protegge..."
Meanwhile, Jane paced around the temple, impatient at such disregard and his Maker's brash decision. Hearing him actually beg for their lives was humiliating. "Where is he?" The industrialist growled, standing over House. "Where's who?" "The Demon of the Americas, the Red Death; the monster who made me! All I see is a lovelorn sap attracted to a sniveling pet!" The vampiric doctor stared back annoyed while Patrick continued, "The House I knew would've slain every last one of those humans and feasted on their blood...you are actively avoiding kills because Father Jimmy over there doesn't like it when he practically drinks from yours!" From the corner of his eyes, Jane saw Novak hesitate in his service...those were fragments of memory he'd rather not revisit.
"That's enough! The fact of the matter is that sniveling pet just saved your life and you're itching to fight because you're jealous!" House snarled, "Why did you come with us? You had a perfectly good afterlife in California! Why give it up?!" "Because I've never felt more alive when I'm with you!" Jane shouted back; his rage had finally blown over and with that, the industrialist stormed off to the other side of the church. Jimmy's eyes followed his sibling then upwards to the Cross; he looked for guidance.
"It may sound strange but Patrick's right," he said while reading the Psalm appropriate for Mardi Gras. "In what sense?" House groaned as he tried to rub away the forming headache. "Why would you disregard your life like that?" Jimmy had to ask, seated along his Mate's side while brushing away stray locks of hair, "I abhor violence but martyring yourself was not a solution. I beseech you, repair the damage that has been done before the sun rises." And we all face our punishment, was heavily implied and the priest returned to his duties and began the celebration of the Holy Communion.
House gave both his children thought; he had been brash and even stupid to believe that the trade would let them live. He loved Jimmy that he'd never leave his side and he had to keep his word. Patrick had been his first, his best killer, worthy of the title Chevalier. But in this situation, there was a need to buckle down and kiss the ground. All thanks to arrogance. Robertson was a man driven to kill House not out of religious fervor but a personal vendetta. The vampire found no sport in killing the tarnished archbishop that night and that impasse would remain so until the last fifty years.
In his one hundred and nine years on the Earth and the seventy-two he'd spent as an immortal, Jane had never seen Gregory beg. It was disgusting! Greg taught him to feel proud of being a vampire, to not wallow in self-deprecation. He taught the industrialist to kill efficiently and without remorse, to spare children for they had no fault. But there was one thing he never showed and that was weakness. To see him with Jimmy riled his blood; he was jealous of the attentions Snow White received. Why? Because he had been there only few decades ago, he had been the favorite...
And yet, as Jane wandered the church's lower levels, Jimmy had proven himself to him by taking a stand. His thoughts were interrupted when he picked up the musty scent of... "Swamp?" Jane asked aloud and tracked the smell. To much of his surprise and relief, there was a way out that didn't reek of human contact; the Church drain that led to the Mississippi river. "Of course..."
James was just about done with Mass when Patrick ran back to the main structure and started blowing out candles. "What are you doing?" The priest inquired as he watched the industrialist work frantically, now catching House's attention. "Returning the favor; there are drains in this place for the used water that unload into the Mississippi," Jane responded, thinking on his feet and grabbing the altar's red mantle along with a spare cassock and shred of gray curtains. "The largest is closed off by an iron gate but it probably won't stand a chance against House's grip." The doctor then figured the strange assortment of cloth and took his knife back. He then cut himself and Jimmy to spill the blood onto the pile and waited for Patrick to put in his own along with oil and more kindle. Once that was done, the Chevalier dropped one of the last lit candle, setting the clothes on fire. "Time to go."
Outside, the crooked archbishop heard the ghastly screams of vampires expiring. Old boys preferred Death then, Fr. Robertson smiled at the thought of House and Patrick turning into dust, too bad about Father Novak, such promise. Once the screams died down, he gave the signal to open the temple doors to see inside. Just as he expected, a massive pile of ashes with bloodstained clothes littered the corridor. "The Lord shines down onto the murderous beasts and this is the end result! Let this serve as fuel to our cause!" The elder priest proclaimed, feeling just a little cheated he didn't burn the trio himself. The mob cheered, joined in their huzzah while the supposedly incinerated vampires made their way through the drain. They knew it was only a matter of time Fr. Robertson would figure out their little ploy but by then, they'd be long gone.