MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

As the old truck rumbled to a stop in front of the small stone church, the sound of bells filled the air, their mournful tones seeming to echo the grief in the hearts of Blake, Reggie, and Randal. The parish stood before them, a beacon of solace in their darkest hour.

The wooden doors of the church creaked open, revealing a figure silhouetted against the warm light within. Father Thomas, the parish priest, stepped out onto the worn stone steps. His weathered face, lined with years of both joy and sorrow, broke into a smile of recognition as he saw Blake.

"Blake," Father Thomas called out, his voice warm despite the lateness of the hour. "It's nice to see you grace our doors again."

As the priest drew closer, his keen eyes took in the somber expressions on their faces, the tension in their bodies. His smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "What's happened? You all look as if you've been through quite an ordeal. Where's Gunther?"

Blake stepped forward, his voice heavy with emotion. "Father Thomas, we... we've lost him. Gunther... he's gone."

The priest's face fell, his eyes widening in shock. "Gunther? No, it can't be. How?"

Reggie and Randal exchanged a quick glance, silently agreeing on the fabricated story they had cooked up. "There was an accident," Reggie explained, his voice cracking slightly. "We were at a safehouse when Gunther... he went to get something late at night. He waited for hours but he didn't return. Apparently, he heard voices of a woman in distress and went to save her.

He didn't make it, an animal attacked him."

Father Thomas closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "Oh, my dear boy," he murmured. "Always putting others first, wasn't he? Come inside, all of you. Let's get you settled and... and we'll prepare for the burial."

As they carefully lifted Gunther's shrouded body from the truck, Father Thomas called out to someone inside the church. A young nun, Sister Maria, appeared in the doorway. Her kind face creased with worry as she took in the scene before her.

"Sister Maria," Father Thomas said softly, "please prepare the guest rooms. And... and fetch young Celena. Her father is here."

The nun nodded, her eyes filling with tears as she hurried back inside. Father Thomas led them into the church, the familiar scent of incense and old wood enveloping them as they entered.

They laid Gunther's body on a simple wooden table near the altar, Father Thomas murmuring a quiet prayer as they did so. The priest then turned to them, his eyes full of compassion. "Tell me everything in details," he said gently. "It often helps to talk."

As Reggie and Randal began to recount their fabricated story in details, Blake found himself distracted by the sound of small, running feet. He turned just in time to see a blur of yellow and white launch itself at him.

"Daddy!" Celena cried, her little arms wrapping tightly around Blake's legs. She was dressed in a sunny yellow dress, her dark curls tied back with a white ribbon. Her ruby eyes sparkled with joy as she looked up at him.

Blake felt his heart constrict as he lifted his daughter into his arms, holding her close. "Hello, my little sunbeam," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Celena giggled, then looked around curiously. "Uncle Reggie! Uncle Randal!" she exclaimed, wriggling to be put down so she could greet them too. As the two vampire knights knelt to hug her, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Where's Uncle Gunther? He always brings me candy."

The room fell silent, the adults exchanging pained glances. Celena, sensing the sudden tension, looked from face to face. "Daddy? Where's Uncle Gunther?"

Blake knelt down beside his daughter, struggling to find the right words. "Celena, sweetheart... Uncle Gunther... he's gone away. He can't be with us anymore."

Celena's lower lip trembled. "But why? Doesn't he like us anymore?"

Reggie stepped in, his voice gentle. "No, little one. Uncle Gunther loved you very much. He... he had to go to heaven. To be with the angels."

Celena's eyes filled with tears. "But I want him here! He promised to teach me a new trick!"

As Celena began to cry in earnest, Sister Maria approached, her face full of sympathy. "Perhaps it would be best if I took Celena to get some rest," she suggested softly. "It's been a long night for everyone."

Blake nodded gratefully, giving Celena one last hug before handing her over to the nun. As Sister Maria carried the sobbing child away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Father Thomas stood beside him, his eyes full of understanding.

"Come," the priest said gently. "Let's prepare Gunther for his final rest. It's what he would have wanted."

As they moved towards Gunther's body, Blake couldn't help but feel a sense of unreality. How had it come to this? Just days ago, Gunther had been alive, laughing, full of strength and action. And now...

Father Thomas began the preparations, his movements reverent and practiced. As he worked, he spoke softly, sharing memories of Gunther's stay at the parish.

"He always brought such joy with him," the priest reminisced, a sad smile on his face. "No matter how dark the day, Gunther could always find a reason to smile. And his devotion... I've rarely seen such faith in anyone."

Reggie nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "That was Gunther. Always looking on the bright side, always ready with a joke or a kind word."

As they continued their vigil, other members of the parish began to arrive, word of Gunther's death spreading quickly through the small community. Each newcomer brought with them stories of Gunther's kindness, his humor, his unwavering faith.

An elderly woman, her eyes red with tears, approached Blake. "Your friend," she said, her voice quavering, "he saved my grandson last winter. Pulled him from a frozen pond. I never got to thank him properly..."

A young man, barely out of his teens, added his own memory. "Gunther taught me how to defend myself, how to stand up to bullies. He said everyone deserved to feel safe and strong."

As the night wore on, the church filled with people paying their respects. The air was heavy with grief, but also with love and gratitude for the life Gunther had lived.

In a quiet moment, Randal pulled Blake and Reggie aside. "Look at all these people," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "Gunther touched so many lives. And they never even knew what he really was."

Blake nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "He was a true hero. In every sense of the word."

As dawn began to break, painting the stained glass windows with soft light, Father Thomas approached them once more. "It's time," he said gently.