Alethos Aneste

Thomas hesitated at the door, overwhelmed for a moment by a sense of longing and dread so deep and profound that he couldn't begin to separate them. The claims were so preposterous; they could not be true. Yet nothing in the faces of his companions gave the slightest hint of a trick, or (worse) any sort of jest.

He had to know.

With that realization, Thomas regained command of his body. He crossed the threshold, turning his head to take in-

Him.

It was as if the rest of the room didn't exist. There was only Thomas, and his Teacher - his Master, his Lord, the man he had followed for years. The man who had claimed the role of Savior, and been tortured and killed. Thomas had seen him die, knew he could not be standing here.

Yet here he was, standing, moving forward; regarding Thomas with an expression of kindness and sympathy, one hand slightly extended as he drew the sleeves back with the other. "Would you touch the wounds?" he asked gently.

Thomas fell to his knees. "Master," he said.

The wounds were plainly visible, their marks unmistakable. The flesh that held them was changed, but that was easy to believe: what man could lay dead for three full days and not be changed by it? "Master," he said again.

"You are blessed that you believe in me," said that soft voice, so familiar that it brought tears to the corners of Thomas' eyes. "How much more blessed are those who have not seen, but still believe?"

Still Thomas could not take his eyes from his Master, could not begin to understand what had happened. Here was life - strange life, but life undeniable - where there should have been death. Here was salvation, where there should have been despair. "I am yours," he said simply.

Now Peter came forward, bearing a simple chalice in his hands. There were signs of change in him as well, as if he too partook of the Master's triumph over death. There was a grace to his movements which had not been present before; there was a look of calm, of serenity, on his face. He lifted the chalice, and their Master took it.

"This is my blood," said the Savior, in His soft and gentle voice. "With it I will make a new covenant. Take. Drink."

He extended His hands, and Thomas - still on his knees - lifted his lips to the edge of the cup. As he swallowed, he felt the liquid move through him: a trail of warmth and light, spreading through his body. It did not sit in his stomach, but spread through his body. It healed as it went, and he felt himself transfigured. All that was old, and mortal, and frail was passing out of him. His Master's promise of eternal life was fulfilled.

"Now you are prepared," said the Savior. "Now we can bring about the Kingdom."

Thomas lifted his arm and gazed upon it. Already he could see the changes in his flesh, subtle but undeniable. He raised his hands to his mouth, touched the eyeteeth there. Already they were lengthening, growing to match those borne by his Master and by his fellow Disciples. The rite would have to be repeated, he knew. Already his new body called out for more blood, in memory of the Blood the Savior had shared with him. And the Kingdom would be built. They had conquered death; what man could stand against them?

---

So, yes, it's Easter again. And I just saw the trailer for Priest the other day. (I haven't seen the movie or read the comic, though.) And the two things kind of came together in my head: vampires are a natural enemy for the Church. Why? Because Christianity claims to do mystically what vampirism does physically.

So this is the Easter story, as it might have been if Jesus had said, "Let me show Your strength against my enemies," instead of, "Forgive them, they know not what they do."

And, by the way, Thomas remains my favorite Apostle.

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Also, if you haven't seen this, you should. You'll never look at the Easter Bunny the same way again. I wouldn't show it to small children or anyone of a sensitive mindset; it's definitely a horror piece.