A Matter of Faith

by Sandy Addison (send comments to sandy_addison@bc.sympatico.ca)
	
        Archbishop Matthew John always enjoyed giving the evening
service.  Properly done, it could cause members of the congregation to
dream of the images that were presented within the sermon, thereby
reinforcing the ideas that were contained therein.
        It was also his practice to bid farewell to each of his
parishioners as they left the cathedral, to let them know that
although he might be the archbishop of Gaean London he was still a
part of the clergy and that he cared for them as much as any local
priest. This touch was especially needed in the cathedral. With its
tall walls and large, open spaces the cathedral often made people feel
small and insignificant.  As if what they did, good or bad, did not
really matter in the Lord's grand plan. By saying goodbye, Matthew
John brought the service back down to a human scale. It showed that
the archbishop and therefore God was watching them and that they had
best keep on the path of the straight and narrow.
        While he was saying good night to Mrs. Cargrave, a dear old
widow who came to every evening sermon, Matthew John noticed that one
young woman was making a concerted effort to be the last in
line. Although he could not see her face due to the veil that she
wore, the glimpse of red hair that he saw and the woman's height told
him that it must be Victoria Cameron.
        When Matthew John had first met her, Victoria was a gangly
teenager, all limbs and no grace. Now ten years later she was very
much a women.  Almost as tall as a man, she was fine boned with pale
unblemished skin. This combined with her auburn hair and jade coloured
eyes made her appear as a princess of old. Even her name, harkened
back to a time of old legends and past glories.
        However, where other women would have tried to enhance their
beauty through fashion, makeup and bearing, Victoria went out of her
way to mask it. Where other women smiled, Victoria was of severe
countenance.  Where others giggled and were skilled in the art of
`small talk', Victoria hardly laughed. Where other women often
refrained from entering conversations and pretended to be less
intelligent than they were around men, Victoria would not hesitate to
dive into debate with anyone. Many young gentlemen had been driven
into retreat in the face of Victoria's sharp tongue and eyes that
seemed to get darker when she got angry. Perhaps most importantly, at
least to Matthew John, while many people talked about helping the poor
to better themselves, Victoria went out and worked with them.
        At her father's side, Dr. James Cameron, Victoria had learned
much about the art of medicine. Victoria had been the first woman to
earn a medical degree from Oxford's School of Medicine. With the
support of the London Missionary Society they had done a great deal of
work helping the urban poor of London, offering free medical treatment
and words of encouragement to many. Victoria was a woman of strong
faith and she had personally brought several poor souls back into the
church's fold. She had even learned how to focus her faith so that she
could bring forth the true power of Sacellum into the world.
        Victoria eventually succeeded in being last in line and when
the Archbishop of London finally turned to her, she asked. "Your
holiness, could you spare the time for a poor sinner?"
        "Of course I have the time Victoria. How are you doing? I am
sorry that I could not officiate at your father's funeral. I was
called out of town."
        "I know your holiness, I was sorry too, but we all have our
duties to God." Replied Victoria. She hesitated a bit, and then
continued. "I . . . I need to talk with you about a personal problem,
and I was wondering if we could talk in private."
        "Of course my dear. Although you didn't need to wait for the
evening service to talk to me. I am more than willing to see you
anytime.  Especially with all that has gone on recently. Let's go to
my study. We can talk in comfort there, and with a degree of privacy"
replied Matthew John.
        He then led Victoria through one of the plain doors at the
side of the cathedral to his study. It was a small room, that was made
even smaller by the book shelves that wrapped around the walls. The
shelves held many leather-bound books and artifacts that seemed
somehow out of place in the study of a clergymen.
        The only furniture in the room was a leather chesterfield, a
writing desk with a chair, and an overstuffed reading chair near the
fireplace which contained the still warm coals of an early
fire. Matthew John was not the best housekeepers; papers and books
covered most of the surface space within the room.
        A little embarrassed by the room's appearance, Matthew John
quickly grabbed up some papers from the chesterfield to make an open
space.
        "Please Victoria, make yourself at home.  I'll just work this
fire back up and then we can talk" he said after he had put the papers
that were on the chesterfield upon an already large pile on his desk.
        With practiced ease, Matthew John stoked up the fire so that
it was soon cheerfully blazing away. While he did this, Victoria
removed her hat and sat quietly down on the chesterfield.
        When Matthew John turned around he was shocked by how Victoria
looked. Instead of a strong and vital young woman, he faced someone
who looked as if she were a corpse made up for burial. Her eyes had no
luster, and there were deep shadows surrounding them as if she had not
slept in days. Her face was gaunt, and while her skin was always pale,
it now appeared almost translucent. He also noticed for the first time
the nervous twitch in her hands and how they seemed to be everywhere
at once.
        "My dear! What is wrong, I have never seen you in such a
state!"  Matthew John could not keep the surprise from his voice.
While she had just lost her father, he knew her well enough to realize
that something far more troubling had occurred to cause her to appear
in public in such a condition.
        "Holiness . . . Holiness I have a question that a friend has
asked me to bring to you. She is too shy to ask her local minister or
yourself so she has asked me to intervene on her behalf" started
Victoria.
        After long years of practice, Matthew John knew when he was
being lied to. Normally this did not bother him that much, as many
parishioners came to him with their `friends' problems. However, this
was so blatant a lie from someone who was normally a blunt speaker
that Matthew John's concern reached new heights. He also knew that if
he confronted her with the lie now she would never reveal the truth
behind it.
        Instead, he chose to play along with the lie to see where it
would lead. He therefore said "Very well my child, what problem is
being faced by your friend?"
        "My friend was wondering if it is possible to know when one
has fallen out of favour with the Lord" said Victoria.
        The question deeply shocked Matthew John. "Dear God! What
could have happened to have Victoria believe that she has lost the
Lord's favour?" he thought. Thinking quickly, he said "If your friend
has in some way broken her covenant with the Lord, she would most
likely know in her heart for she would no longer feel His presence
there."
        "But your Holiness, if she still feels His presence but the
sin that she has committed in her mind cancels the covenant, what
then?" Victoria pressed in almost a pleading voice.
        "I would remind your friend that the covenant between man and
God can only be broken by those who have turned their back upon the
Lord" replied Matthew John. Seeing the confusion on Victoria's face,
he pressed forward. "I would have to know more about your `friend' and
her supposed sin, before I could know whether the sin would cause the
Lord to forsake her. Perhaps you could convince her to come in
herself. I can assure you that I do not bite."
        Matthew John had hoped to shame Victoria into admitting that
they were indeed talking about herself. Instead Victoria reacted with
stark terror at the Archbishop's suggestion.
        Finally, Victoria found her voice. "I . . .  " Victoria
started hesitantly, "I will suggest that to her tonight. However, it
may take some time for her to come to a decision."
        "I will pray that you are successful then" replied Matthew
John. "Is there anything else that I could help you with?"
        "N-no your holiness. I have taken enough of your time. I will
go now" said Victoria, donning her hat and veil.
        "Let me get Donald then, he will see you out. Do you have
enough money for a cab? With the thick fog it is not a good idea for a
woman to walk the streets by herself" asked Matthew John as he moved
to the door and called out for the servant.
        Soon a man in his late thirties came up to the door. "You
called, your holiness?" asked Donald, his accent betraying his working
class background.
        "Yes Donald, would you please escort Dr. Cameron out and then
lock up please" requested the archbishop.
        "No problem your holiness," replied Donald. "Doctor, would you
follow me please."
        Turning again to Matthew John, Victoria said "Thank you again
for your time, your holiness."
        "Just make sure that your friend comes and sees me when she is
ready" replied Matthew John.

*

        As was usual for London at night, the city streets were
covered in a dense blanket of fog. The area was wealthy enough to have
gaslights but instead of giving reassuring light to people, they cast
an eery glow which seemed to only increase the shadows.
        It was still early in the evening, but there were few people
on the streets. Those that were strode briskly to their
destinations. In Gaea, no one took a relaxing evening stroll.
        Although there was a cab waiting for a fare near the
cathedral, Victoria decided to walk home. It really wasn't that far,
and she needed time to think.
        As Victoria walked, she realized that she was even more
uncertain than she was before. Could she trust the archbishop with the
secret of her curse, or would he turn her in as was required by law?
Should she turn herself in? Self doubt filled her mind. "Sweet Jesus,"
she thought.  "Why could not I have also been taken that fearful
night? Why am I being punished so?"
        It had all started innocently enough. It had been late in the
night when a young boy had come to the urban mission pleading for
help. A young woman was in labour, and there were complications. A
doctor was needed, and soon, if both the mother and child were to
survive.  Quickly, following the young messenger, both Victoria and
her father set off to render what aid they could.
        Their journey took them deep into the London underground,
finally ending in front of a dilapidated tenement.  They rushed
upstairs and into a small room. There they stopped in bewilderment,
for the room appeared to be empty. It was then that they saw one of
the shadows start to move and the creature coming towards them.
        It was a werepanther, a cursed creature that was half man and
half beast. With a single bound it landed in front of the two
doctors. It then raised itself up to it full menacing height. The
sight of the creature paralyzed both father and daughter and both were
unable to run, or speak, or do anything to defend themselves.
        With one quick motion, the werepanther seized James Cameron's
head in one large clawed hand. It then lifted the man off the ground
and held him straight out in front of itself. It then did something
even more horrifying to the pair, it spoke.
        With a high class accent it said "I'm terribly sorry old
boy. But you have been giving too much hope to the cattle which infest
these slums. I am afraid that this must stop. Permanently."
        With that said, the creature began to slowly and deliberately
crush the elder Cameron's skull. To make matters worse, the old man
regained his voice and he screamed almost until the end.
        Far from fearing that the screams would attract attention, the
werecreature appeared to actually enjoy hearing the anguish.
        With that task done, the monster then turned to Victoria.
"Ahh. Now you are a pretty one. Pretty enough to be my mate!"  The
creature then lunged at Victoria, its large teeth aimed towards her
neck.
        On sheer survival reflex, Victoria had raised her arms.
Therefore, she did not see as much as feel the creature's teeth close
down upon her forearm.  It was this physical pain that jolted her back
to reality.  Finding her voice she screamed "By the power of all Holy
God, get back!"
        Victoria's faith in the Sacellum God then surrounded her like
an impenetrable shield. The werepanther was forced back growling in
pain and surprise.
        "So, the little stormer thinks that she can ward herself
against me, does she?"  Again the monster launched itself at Victoria,
and smashed against the shield that was Victoria's faith, unable to
penetrate.
        It was then Victoria's turn to speak. "Creature of darkness!"
She screamed "If you wish to be a servant of Hell, then see if you can
endure its flames!"  With this, Victoria again focused her faith and
sheathed the werepanther in Hell's own flame.
        The monster could not withstand the holy fire and was consumed
by them. "We shall meet again and you will be mine" was the last thing
it screamed before the flames consumed it utterly.
        Victoria had thought that was the end of the incident. She
mourned her father and planned to continue his work in the
slums. However, it turned out that the monster's promise had born
fruit. On the first full moon, Victoria transformed into a werepanther
herself.
        Fortunately she was alone at the time, so no one witnessed the
terrible curse that had been placed upon her. She remembered
everything she had done when the werepanther had taken her over. In
some ways the creature had Victoria's personality.  However, its
drives were completely different. It had wanted to run, to hunt, to
feel the prey squirm as it had bitten down upon it. Not sure how to
control these urges she had given into them. Victoria could still
remember the taste of the rat she had caught. She shuddered at the raw
emotions that she remembered. They were so bestial, so craven, so...
uncivilized.
        Since that time she had found that she often felt the beast's
calling. Anytime that she started to become angry, or was startled, or
felt that she was in danger, the calling would come. It had taken all
of her self control and a great deal of prayer to keep the beast in
check.
        And yet, her prayers for miracles were still answered. To her
mind, God should have abandoned her as soon as she had become a
werecreature, a monster of darkness. Yet He had not. It was because of
this apparent contradiction that she had come out tonight and sought
the aid of Matthew John.
        Lost in her thoughts, Victoria had failed to see the shadows
moving towards her from an alley. Before she knew what was happening,
Victoria felt an arm wrap around her body, pinning her arms against
her sides. A large smelly hand also covered her mouth, cutting off the
scream that she had wanted to make. She was then pulled into the
alley. While the assault took Victoria by surprise, she was still able
to keep enough control of herself so that the beast did not come.
        Forced up against the alley wall, a lantern briefly shone into
Victoria eyes, destroying her night sight. As a result, although her
attackers were only a few feet away from her she could only see their
outlines. All of her other senses were hyper-sensitive however. She
hear the rats moving through the garbage, she smelled the alcohol upon
her attackers breath, she felt the coarse bricks of the wall through
her dress. Victoria also felt the sharp edge of the knife as it was
pressed up against her throat.
        "Now listen here missy," said a deep voice, his accent
betraying him as a member of London's urban poor. "You even breath too
loudly, and I'll slit your throat from ear to ear."
        "Easy, Mickie," said a voice coming from the second
shadow. "We have a little upper class bird here and you'll kill her
before she can sing if you squeeze too hard. Now then lass, Mickie is
a little inpatient so I suggest that you answer our questions
quickly."  Victoria nodded in agreement.
        "Good girl," replied the second man with the lantern. "We know
that you were the last one to leave church. How many people are left
in there?"
        "There are several still in the Cathedral, the archbishop, and
his servants. But there isn't anything in there that would be worth
stealing. All of the really valuable items are so well-known tha
. . . " Victoria quickly stoped talking as she felt the knife dig
deeper into her throat.
        "Remember what I said about talking out of turn," said
Mickie. "We're not interested in robbing the place anyway. The
Archbishop's been nosing around in places where he has no business
being. People got to know that if you don't mind your own business
something bad happens. Charlie get those things moving, time's
a-wasting."
        "All right you two, you heard Mickie, go in and finish the
job. We'll wait with our girl here until you're done, then we'll all
go in to checkout your handy work" said Charlie.  As commanded two
other shadows started to shamble towards the cathedral.
        Victoria's attention returned to the two men in front of her,
her mind racing trying to think of a way to stop them.  "Don't worry
my girl, we'll make sure that you'll be with your friends soon
. . . at least what's left of them" laughed Charlie.
        He was still laughing at his own joke when a scream came from
the cathedral. With that, Charlie started to laugh even louder. His
laugh seemed infectious for Mickie also started to laugh. They were so
amused by the mayhem that they were about to create that Victoria was
momentarily forgotten.
        "Oh God, they are all going to die and . . . there . . .  is
. . . nothing . . . that . . . I . . . can . . . do . . . about
. . . it . . ." thought Victoria.  It was then that she realized that
while she could not save the archbishop, the werepanther could.
Indeed, the werepanther was screaming to get out.
        Even though it may have placed her well onto the path of
damnation, Victoria let her will subside and embraced the
werepanther. During the change Victoria felt a strange vital energy
sweep over her; it was as if there were now possibilities, choices
that she could make that would change the world. It was then that she
knew that she had made the right choice.
        The transformation took place very quickly. Victoria's arms
and legs lengthened and muscles thickened and became as hard as
iron. Her nails also lengthened and became the hard retraceable claws
of a panther.  All over her body supple black fur replaced her red
hair. Her jaws grew and became larger to accommodate the enlarged
canine teeth. The seams upon the dress that Victoria wore could not
resist the strain that was placed upon them by the change and popped
open, causing the cloth to fall from the werepanther's body. The laces
upon her shoes strained and then broke as clawed feet popped out from
the cow's leather.
        As the changed progressed, the walls that Victoria's rational
mind placed upon her emotions were destroyed, leaving a creature
driven by instinct and emotion. She could not remember the names of
the people that were in the big building, only that she loved them and
that they were in danger.
        Mickie, still laughing with Charlie, felt the changes
occurring under his hands soon after they started. Upon reflex, he
pull the knife across the girl's throat. It was as if he was trying to
cut leather. Just by the feel of the knife, Mickie knew that he had
not even broken the skin.
        With a gutteral growl that no human could ever hope to match,
the werepanther lunged. Her teeth sunk deep into Mickie's neck while
her claws racked deep into Mickie's shoulders, stopping only when they
struck bone. Using the claws for leverage, the werepanther tore out
the man's dying scream as she removed his throat.
        Upon hearing the commotion, Charlie turned from watching the
cathedral to see a monster rather standing over Mickie's crumpled
form. Over six feet tall, the creature looked like a cross between a
man and cat.  Within it teeth hung most of Mickie's throat, and the
lantern's light caught the creatures eyes.
        From within those eyes, Charlie saw his death. He dropped the
lantern, his one and only thought now was to run. Run anywhere that
was safe, anywhere that was not this alley right now.
    The hunter was now the prey.
        However, the werepanther remembered the laughing man and was
not going to let him escape. She leapt towards Charlie, her rear claws
catching him in his lower back, driving him to the ground. Her front
claws were around his neck and as he fell they cut through veins,
arteries, voice pipe and larynx.
        Seeing that the two attackers were dead, the beast ran quickly
towards the big building.  In a matter of heartbeats, the beast was at
the door. She could smell death from inside the holy place, both the
sickly sweat smell of freshly spilled blood and the stench of
something long dead and buried. With only a pause to get one final
breath of clean air, the werepanther leapt through the door.
        The source of the fresh blood was a dead body upon the floor
near the entrance. The werepanther knew that it was dead because the
face was raised toward Heaven even though the body lay on its stomach;
the name Donald flashed threw her mind at this point.
        Glancing up, the werepanther saw the attackers were trying to
batter down a door. The creatures appeared to be human, however the
smell of the grave came from both of them.
        Snarling, the werepanther leapt at the back of one of the
creatures. She sank her fangs into the flesh of its upper arm.  Nearly
gagging on the foul taste of rotten flesh, the werepanther was still
able to hold on. With a twist of her powerful neck, she torn the arm
completely off the creature.
        The creature did not appear to notice, only turning to face
the werepanther while its friend continued to attack the door. For the
first time the werepanther was able to see the decaying face of the
creature she fought. The sunken eyes. The lips that were sewn
together. From somewhere deep in her mind, the word "zombie" came
forward, and it was then that she could finally put a name to the
creatures that she faced.
        Again the werepanther leapt at the zombie, but this time the
creature was ready for her attack. With a sweeping motion of its
remaining arm the zombie struck the werepanther in mid jump, sending
her flying into the pews. Such a blow would have crushed the ribcage
of even the largest of men, but it only knocked the wind from the
werepanther.
        As the werecat lay momentarily stunned upon the ground, the
zombie advanced, grabbing her by the throat.  It lifted her off of the
ground and attempted to throttle her to death. While the zombie could
not crush her windpipe, it had the strength to cut off her air.
        With the werepanther's vision slowly going black, she reared
up her hindquarters and placed her clawed feet upon the creature's
torso. Chunks of rotting flesh flew as the cat raked its claws through
the creature's torso. The zombie was not impervious to this assault
and the creature doubled over, as it did not have any abdomen muscles
left to hold itself up.
        The werepanther was then able to free itself from the zombie's
grip, but not without cost. Blood now flowed freely from the deep
tears along the sides of its neck.
        For now, the werepanther did not notice the wounds. Once again
she leapt at the zombie's neck, sinking her teeth into the already
dead flesh. With a mighty heave, she first broke the zombie's neck
then tore off the head completely.
        Turning to face the last zombie, the werepanther saw that it
was completely through the door, but had turned to face her. Once
again she leapt to the attack. The zombie was ready for her. With a
speed that betrayed its power the zombie turned and raised up its
arms, clawed fingers extended. Unable to move change her direction
mid- flight, the werepanther was impaled upon the extended digits, its
fingers sinking deep into her chest. Her roar of the attack was
replaced with a howl of sheer pain.
        Grabbing the werepanther with both hands the zombie threw her
towards the alter. She flew over thirty feet and landed with a crash
of splintering wood into the pews near the alter and lay there,
stunned.
        The werepanther was jolted back to consciousness by a shearing
pain from within her stomach. Her vision cleared and she saw the
zombie standing above her, holding a silver candelabra. The points
which normally held wax candles were now covered with the blood from
its first attack. It was now raising the improvised silver weapon for
another strike, this time aimed at the werepanther's head.
        "Face the punishment that was given out to Lot's wife, foul
creature of darkness!" boomed a voice.
        The zombie stiffened and slowly, its dead flesh was
transformed into salt. Within seconds, were the monster had once stood
only a pillar of salt remained.
        Holding the Sacellum Cross high in one hand and the Book of
Power in the other, Archbishop Matthew John walked towards the pillar
ready to destroy any other beings that were a threat to the
church. When he saw the bleeding werepanther, he prepared to transform
it into salt as well.
        "Matthew John, no" rasped the werepanther.
        Startled by the fact that the creature could not only speak
but actually spoke his name, Matthew John lowered the cross. He then
saw a blue and red aura simmering surround the creature, finally
concentrating around the creature's head. With a bright flash, the
simmering disappeared. Now upon the werepanther was a streak of red
coloured fur that ran from between the werepanter's eyes to just
between the shoulder blades.
        With the adrenaline of the battle subsiding, the werepanther
started to lose control of her body. Slowly, she changed back into
human form. Drained of energy, and slowly dying, Victoria felt herself
losing consciousness. The surprised look upon Matthew John's face was
the last thing that Victoria saw before the darkness took her
completely.

*

        As she started to regain consciousness, Victoria first felt as
if she was in complete harmony with the world around her. That she
could do anything that she wanted to, create anything that her heart
desired.  Then the horror of the night's events came crashing down
upon her and Victoria forced herself to awaken fully.
        She found herself again in Matthew John's study. Only now she
was lying upon the chesterfield completely naked save for a blanket.
She had an extremely foul taste in her mouth and when she glanced
down, Victoria noticed that much of her body was covered with dried
blood. However she felt no pain from the wounds that she knew that she
had taken.
        In fact, she felt better than she had in weeks, not only
physically, but also spiritually. Gone was the desperation and void
within her soul. In its place was a sense of hope. Of
possibilities. The feeling that her future need not end in either
death or madness.
        The door started to open and Victoria scrambled to cover
herself with the blanket before Matthew John entered, carrying a basin
of warm water towels and some clothing. He face was very grim and the
front of his clothes were covered with blood. However, his face
brightened immediately when he saw that Victoria was up.
        "Oh, Victoria you're awake. Praise be to God" he said. "I'm
quite surprised, given to beating that you took. However, you should
still take it easy. You have lost quite a bit of blood and that could
cause you to be light headed for a while. Here is some warm water and
towels. When you feel up to it you will be able to clean up. I have
also brought you clothes for you to change into. They're some of
Donald's old clothes, and while they may seem too large, it was the
best that I could do. I'm sorry that I had to leave you alone, however
the authorities arrived soon after the ah . . . incident ended. I just
managed to get you in my study without them noticing that you were
here. The police have just left with the remains."
        The Archbishop was rather flustered, and spoke rapidly, not
letting Victoria get a word in edgewise. She was not sure who was more
embarrassed. Herself, for being clothed only in a blanket in front of
the Archbishop of London or Matthew John for having a naked woman in
his study.
        "I will lock the door behind me when I leave. I'll be back in
ten minutes with something to drink. Once you have changed, we need to
talk." His face suddenly went very grim. "And this time I wish to hear
the truth; not any lies about your friend being in trouble."
        "Yes, your Holiness" replied Victoria with a lowered head. It
was clear that Matthew John would broach no argument on this point, so
Victoria knew that she would have to tell the truth.
        Gingerly, Victoria removed the blood from her body. She was
amazed there were no open wounds, even though there was evidence that
much of the blood was hers.
        She quickly changed into the clothing that the archbishop had
provided. As he had predicted the clothing was too large for her, but
it was clean and well cared for. It felt good to wear clothing again,
even though it was the first that she ever had worn pants and she was
not at all pleased with the sensation.
        Victoria took down a small mirror Matthew John had on one of
his shelves to check her hair and get it all under the cap that
Matthew John had provided. Victoria figured that she would most likely
have to sneak home to avoid complications with police.
        It was as she was tucking her hair under the cap that she
noticed the one lock of hair. There, right in the center of her long
auburn hair was a single jet black lock. Fascinated by its appearance,
she continued to stare at it, only breaking contact with her
reflection when she heard a knocking at the door.
        "Who's there?" she asked.
        "Matthew John, my dear. Are you presentable?"
        "Yes, your Holiness."
        There were sounds of someone fumbling with keys and then the
door opened and Matthew John entered.
        "Very well, Victoria I want you to tell me what you remember
about what happened tonight. Do not spare any detail too small or too
repugnant. We are dealing with your soul here, and only the truth will
save you" aid Matthew John with an expression that Victoria had never
seen before. It was the face of one who had been given the
responsibility to decide what would happen to her life and, quite
literally, her soul.
        Slowly and only with great reluctance, Victoria related her
tale to Matthew John about her being assaulted by the two men, her
transformation, the deaths of the attackers, and then the battle with
the zombies. Throughout it all, Matthew John sat in silence.
        When Victoria finished her story, Matthew John said
"Interesting, Victoria, and let me thank you for saving my life. I
doubt that I could have handled both of the creatures by myself.
Therefore, I am in your dept. However, before I say anything about
what I believe is going on, could you please tell me about when these
changes first started and what may have caused them."
        Again it was Victoria's turn to speak. She described to him
about the death of her father, then what had happened to her after the
first full moon. When she started to give details of her first change,
Matthew John interrupted her and asked "Do you remember the first
incident as well as you remembered tonight's change?"
        "Not as well, your holiness," replied Victoria. "I remembered
the first change as if it was only a dream; not as if I were
there. With tonight's battle I was there, just not in control."
        When Victoria was finished with her tale, there was a long
silence. Finally, Matthew John started to speak.  "It is as I thought,
my dear.  You are either very lucky or have been marked by the Lord
for some special purpose."
        "Your holiness?" Victoria was clearly confused.
        "A few poor souls who are cursed with the powers of the were
can control them. They are not given totally over to the animal when
they change. These people are called shapeshifters. They have the
power to change shape whenever then choose to, although an involuntary
change my still occur during times of great stress."  As he went on
about shapeshifters, he took on the demeanor of a schoolmaster who was
lecturing to a class.
        "There are usually two signs that allow the careful observer
to determine that a werecreature is in fact a shapeshifter," he
continued.  "The first is the ability to remember what has happened to
them when they are in animal form, something which you appear to be
able to do."
        "What is the other sign of a shapeshifter?" asked Victoria.
        "When in human form, some characteristic of the animal will
appear, and when in animal form, the matching characteristic of the
human. In your case, I believe that the black streak in your hair is
characteristic of the panther."
        "How to you know all this, Holiness? It seems that you are
very well informed in such matters." Victoria knew to ask such
questions was rude, but her curiosity got the better of her.
        "My dear, I was a monster hunter long before I was the
Archbishop of London. As a result I have a certain knowledge of many
things that others do not wish someone in my position to have. In
fact, I believe that is why someone attempted to kill me tonight. I
have been making certain . . . enquiries . . . about things that are
not of a strictly religious matter. I am in a similar position to your
father: We were both trying to upset the status quo; trying to better
the peoples lives. Someone apparently does not this to happen."
        "But why now, your holiness? You have been archbishop for
several years. Why try to kill you now? And my father was just a
doctor who tried to help the poor help themselves!" demanded Victoria,
suddenly both fearing for the old man's life and feeling angry about
the senseless death of her father.
        "I believe that it has something to do with the gate that now
exists between Gaea and the new world, Earth. Something important is
happening down there that the powers that be do not want the general
population to know about."
        Like most people in London, Victoria knew about the gate that
has been created by Dr. Wells, and how a bright new world was being
fouled by the horrors that were present on Gaea. She even agreed with
the proposal about sending troops down to this Earth to combat the
horrors and to teach the savages how to deal with the monsters that
were now on their planet.
        "What could they not want the Archbishop of London to know about?"
        "That my dear, is what I want you to find out" replied Matthew
John.
        "Me!?" exclaimed Victoria with amazement. 	 
        "I need someone whom I can trust to go down to Earth to find
out what is really going on." Suddenly, Matthew John laughed and
clapped his hands together as he saw the pieces falling into place.
        "You're perfect for the job Victoria. With your medical
background and the standing that you have among the missionary groups,
you will have no problem being accepted into one of the faith groups
that are going down to Earth."
        While she was surprised by the clandestine plotting that
Matthew John was involved in, Victoria liked the mission that he had
asked her to do. Here was a chance to strike out against those who
destroyed her life, and also to carry on her father's work at the same
time.
        "I will do as you ask, your holiness," Victoria said. "However
I have a question that you might be able to answer."
        "What is that my child?"
        "Why do I have no injuries? I remember being impaled by the
silver candelabra and the other injuries, but there is no pain nor
even any scars. Is this another part of the shapeshifters power?"
        Matthew John smiled "No my dear, I healed those injuries with
the power granted to us by the Savior."
        Now Victoria was very confused. "But your holiness, in the
Book of Power the Savior never healed. How can we, his Disciples, do
what the Savior did not?"
        "Because the Savior did heal, just as He did show mercy to His
enemies, and did not kill."
        "But . . ." started Victoria.
        ". . . that's against the teaching of the Book of Power. Yes
child, I know. However, I have long questioned just how valid the Book
of Power actually is. The more I questioned, the more that I gained
the power to invoke miracles that predate the Book of Power." Matthew
John looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said "Victoria, how is
your knowledge of old Victorian?"
        "Reasonable, your holiness. I have not used it for a while,
but I did well in the subject when I was in school."
        "Good" said Matthew John as he rose from the chair and went
over to one of the bookshelves. He then moved away a false shelf and
took out a book from behind it.
        "This my dear, is a Bible," said Matthew John as he handed it
to Victoria. "It is older than any Book of Power in existence, and
holds many truths and not a few mysteries. It was the first copy that
I came across and I have kept it for more than twenty years. I wish to
give it to you. Read it with an open mind and then let your heart
decide the truth."
        The book was small and well worn, however the leather that it
was bound in was well cared for and the type on the page was still
legible. What Victoria noticed most was the power that seemed to
radiate from it.
        "Your holiness I do not know what to say. I . . . thank you,
your Hholiness."
        "One word of warning Victoria, do not let others know that you
have this book. They would not understand why you have it, and it
would only lead to trouble." Checking his watch, Matthew John
continued "It would be best if you left now my dear. I shall get in
touch with you tomorrow."
        "Yes, your holiness, and thank you for both the book and the
talk. It felt good to finally be able to tell someone all that has
happened."
        As Victoria left, dressed in Donald's old clothing and
secretly carrying the old Bible, Matthew John noted the change that
had come over her. She had lost the haunted look in her eyes. There
was now a determined set to her jaw. She may not accept what had
happened to her, and the archbishop would doubt that she ever
would. However, she now had a purpose, a quest even. This trip to
Earth required that she be alert and strong in her faith. There would
not be time for self-doubt or self-pity.
        "Go in peace my child," he whispered. "Go in peace."