Malachi's reaction, when it finally finally came, was everything Arthur had hoped.  He bit his lip and hummed a quiet, happy note.  On the ground in front of him, a foot bounced against the ground at a rapid pace, but everything else about the man was calm.

"Kill me?" he inquired, and then continued in a quieter voice, "do you promise?"

The doctor laughed, just like he had at Malachi's declaration of love earlier in the week.  He hoped the sound of it raked across the priest's skin and burrowed deep, stabbing at every nerve, grated against his ears and crushed his heart.

"Who is she, Malachi?  Is she very special to you?  I can see why, she takes after you a lot, and I don't just mean by her hair.  Her blood... it tasted just like yours.  Sweeter, maybe.  I think that was her youth, her innocence.  I'm only sad I will be the only one to have tasted it...  It was delicious."

He licked his lips, as if he could still taste it, as if he ever did.  The only taste he could recall was of Malachi, from the alley.

It was better than anything.

"Shall I continue, Father, or would you like to hear more of her?"