The Blood of Kings

by John Michael Curlovich

  I was completely lost. “And this has something to do with Set? And Akhenaten and his son?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, you did. Just not in words.”

  “Go and read, then. Get yourself a good King James Bible, not one of these preposterous modern translations. And read the stories of Jephthah, one of the Judges of Israel, and of Kings Ahaz and Manasseh. And while you’re at it, take a moment to thank the king whose efforts preserved them for you.”

  King James. Since that night at Danilo’s I had learned that his lover was the Duke of Buckingham, the man for whom Buckingham Palace was built. “I’ve never heard of those stories.”

  “Of course not. As you said, no one actually reads the Bible anymore, except for a few familiar, comfortable bits. There’s more truth in that book than the Christians are capable of realizing.”

  All of this was more than I had expected to learn. But I told him I’d go and read.

  “Good. And when you read those passages, remember one other one: ‘The blood is the life.’”

  I had so much new to think about. I kissed him and started to leave.

  “Oh, and Jamie?”

  “Hm?”

  “In ancient Egyptian astronomy, the planet we call Mars… ”

  “Yes?”

  “Represented the god Set.”

  * * *

  Bubastis had grown quickly, more quickly than I had expected her to. But she was still a kitten, with that playfulness in her. I loved her like no pet I’d ever had. When she climbed into my lap and purred, it was almost as sweet as being with Danilo.

  The night before my final I was in the living room, going over my notes, trying to decipher my own handwriting. I had a CD on, the late Schubert quartets. It was grey and rainy, a good night to be inside. It was, in fact, the first night in two weeks I hadn’t spent with Danilo. Justin wasn’t around.

  There was a knock on the door. Carrying Bubastis, I opened it. It was Greg. He was soaking wet. I smiled at him. “Real men don’t carry umbrellas?”

  “Don’t be a smart shit.”

  “Justin’s not here.” It gave me pleasure to tell him so. Things between Greg and me had gotten steadily more unpleasant.

  “I need to come in. I’m drenched.”

  “Come back when your boyfriend’s home.”

  He pushed his way past me into the apartment. We hadn’t gotten along since that first night when he and Justin met Danilo. Obviously, I threatened him in some way, even though Danilo was the one who had played with his head.

  He shook himself, like a wet dog. “It’s raining.”

  “I kind of guessed, yeah.”

  “You have any clothes I can change into?”

  “You’re a foot taller than me, Greg.”

  “Why aren’t you out with that old man?”

  “And miss the pleasure of your company? Look, I’ve got my final tomorrow. I have to study.”

  “Go ahead.”

  He stomped into the bathroom and closed the door. I got my notebook and sat down again. Bubastis sniffed at the bathroom door, curious what might be going on inside. I wanted to ace my test, not just for myself of course but for Danilo.

  After a few minutes Greg came out, wearing nothing but his shorts, drying his hair. He rather pointedly sat down in a chair opposite me. Evidently, I wasn’t to be allowed to study. Bubastis scampered ahead of him and jumped up into my lap

  “That’s my towel, Greg.”

  He smiled a smartass smile. “Thanks for letting me use it.”

  I tried to concentrate on Middle Kingdom politics.

  “So, you still boffin’ your prof?”

  “If you want to be cutesy about it, yes.”

  “He any good?”

  I looked up from my notebook. “Look, Greg, I’m trying to study. Don’t you have a final too?”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be a piece of cake.”

  “What are you taking?”

  “Sports Medicine. We learn to bandage sprained ankles and shit.”

  “I knew how to do that when I was ten.”

  “We learn how to do it right.”

  “Oh.”

  For a few moments we fell silent and I was able to concentrate on the list of ancient kings. Mentuhotep, Amenemhat…

  “Do we have to listen to this fag music?”

  I didn’t bother looking up. “We’re fags, right?”

  “You better shut up.”

  “Look, if you don’t like it here, why don’t you just leave? This is my place.”

  “And Justin’s.”

  “He’s not here. Why don’t you go out and look for him?”

  “Fucker. Where’s the remote?”

  “Leave the TV off. I’m studying.”

  “And listening to pansy music.”

  I could have ended it. I could have gone to my room. But it was my place, damn it, and I couldn’t let him dominate it that way. Instead I just kept reading and hoped he’d get bored.

  Bubastis jumped off my lap and headed for her water bowl. I flipped back a few pages and went over something Greg had distracted me from. The music swelled to an agitated “Death and the Maiden.”

  When the kitten came back into the room, she made a beeline for the couch and jumped up beside Greg.

  “Get this cat away from me.”

  I was casual. “She lives here, Greg. You don’t.”

  “Faggot fucker.”

  I went back to my notes.

  An instant later there was a frightened cry from Bubastis. Greg had picked her up by the throat. She was struggling, swiping at him with her little paws, but of course it was no use.

  I jumped up. “Put her down! Gently!”

  “I hate cats.”

  “Then get the hell out of here.”

  “Only fags have cats.”

  “Then you should get along with her.”

  “Fucker!” Still holding her by the neck he threw her across the room at me. I tried to catch her, but she slipped through my hands and hit the wall. She shrieked in pain.

  I ran across the room and jumped on him. He had ten, maybe twelve inches on me and 60 pounds or more, but I threw myself at him and knocked him over and started pounding him. “You get the fuck out of here, you goddamned pig!”

  He pushed me off. “It’s only a cat. Christ.”

  I punched him again, not that it did much good. “Get your clothes on and get out of here!” He swiped at me, but I ducked.

  In the opposite corner Bubastis was crying pitifully. I went and picked her up. It looked like her right front leg was broken.

  Greg got to his feet and glared at me.

  “I told you to get out of here!”

  “Why the fuck should I?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll call the police. Cruelty to animals is a crime. And I’ll tell them everything. You understand me? Do you want your little friendship with Justin made part of the public record?”

  Something like panic crept into his eyes. “Fuck.” He headed to the bathroom.

  I cradled poor little Bubastis. There was an emergency animal hospital in the neighborhood. I called them and they said they could take her right away. I went to the closet to get the cat carrier.

  A few moments later Greg came out of the bathroom, dressed. His arrogance had left him, at least a bit. “Would you really do that?”

  “In a minute.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Push me again and see.” I lined the carrier with soft towels, hoping to make the trip easy on her. She was still frightened, cowering in the crook of my arm.

  “The guys on the team would… They can’t know.”

  “Then if I were you, I wouldn’t pull this shit again. I don’t want to see you here except when you’re with Justin. And even then, you had damned well better behave.”

  He glared at me. It was obvious how much he hated me. Sullenly he went to the door. “Tell Jus I was here.”

  “And I’ll tell him wha
t you did. Bubastis is his cat, too.”

  “Fucker.”

  “Get out.”

  He left, sulking. A moment later there came a faint tap on the door. It was Mrs. Kolarik. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard raised voices. Is everything all right?”

  “There’s been an accident with Bubastis. I have to get her to the vet’s.”

  “The one over on Shady? I’ll get my car and drive you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I got a jacket and umbrella and Mrs. Kolarik drove us to the emergency vet’s as quickly as she could with shaking Bubastis up even more. Her leg was broken, as I had thought, and they put a cast on it; there were a few bruises. Otherwise she seemed all right. When they were finished with her and she saw me she came running to me, as quickly as the cast would let her, meowing happily.

  When I got home, Justin was there. I told him what Greg did. He defended him. “It must have been an accident.”

  “Jus, he picked her up by the throat, shook her and threw her across the room.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “God damn it, Justin, he did it.”

  “No.”

  There was no point. He was in love.

  The phone rang. I didn’t much want to talk to anyone; my opinion of humanity wasn’t especially high right then. But it was Danilo. Hearing his voice calmed me down almost at once. He offered to come over and keep me company.

  “Thanks, but I have to finish studying. I have a final tomorrow.”

  “You have, Jamie darling, an unattractive tendency to be a smartass.”

  “I know it.”

  “Bring her to my house. I can help.” He hung up.

  Every time I thought I had his range, Danilo said or did something to surprise me. What he had said made no sense.

  I was sitting on the sofa. Bubastis tried to jump up beside me, but she couldn’t. I picked her up and cradled her.

  Justin came out of the kitchen with a packet of cat treats, but she seemed afraid of him. Intelligent kitten.

  He was put off by it. “She always likes these.”

  “She must smell Greg on you.”

  “Don’t be silly. They must have her on some drug or something.”

  “Right.” I didn’t try to hide my sarcasm. “That must be it.”

  * * *

  Late that night the rain stopped. The sudden absence of sound woke me up. Bubastis was sleeping on the pillow beside me. And I realized Danilo was in the room. He was sitting, watching me in the dark. Like, I thought, a lover. I reached over to the nightstand and switched on a little stained-glass lamp he had given me, a genuine Tiffany.

  He kissed me, and I kissed back.

  “How did you get in?”

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. How is Bubastis?”

  She woke up, groggily, and recognized him. She had always liked him, and she limped across the bed to him. He picked her up and nuzzled her.

  “Sweet little kitten.” She meowed, happy to see him. “Were you dreaming, Jamie?”

  “No. For once I wasn’t.”

  He kissed me again.

  “Let me take her for a few moments.”

  I sat up. “Take her?”

  “Just for a few moments. Leave me alone with her, all right?”

  I was too off-balance to object. He picked her up and disappeared into the living room.

  It was odd, even for Danilo. I got quietly out of bed, pulled on my shorts and went to look.

  The living room was empty. The kitchen light was on.

  Slowly I pushed the swinging door open a crack and looked in. Bubastis was on the kitchen counter. She was drinking something dark from a saucer. Danilo was at the sink, washing his hands. When she finished drinking, he took the saucer and rinsed it off. She scampered to him happily.

  Then he took a knife out of the silverware drawer and started to cut her cast off.

  “Danilo, don’t!”

  He smiled casually. “She doesn’t need it now.”

  Before I could reach them, he slit down the center of the cast and pulled it off. Bubastis capered about, glad to have it off. There was no limp, no sign of pain. She jumped down off the counter and scampered past me into the living room.

  “What did you give her?”

  “I’ve already told you that, in any number of different ways.”

  He took a step toward me, but I backed off. “Danilo, you know how much I love you.”

  “And I you, Jamie.”

  “Then why do I feel like I should be afraid?”

  “I took a poor, injured kitten and made her well. Why should you be afraid of that?”

  “It isn’t just that.”

  “No?”

  I was more frightened than I wanted to admit, not of what he might do, but of losing him. “Danilo, please tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me what you are. What we are.”

  He hesitated. “I gave her consecrated blood to drink. I said a spell. And she was healed. You’ve seen enough of the old papyri. That cannot surprise you.”

  I was terrified to ask, but I had to. “Do you love me?”

  He crossed the room to me, slowly. “Jamie, sweet Jamie, in all the world, in all the centuries I have found no one to love more.” Just as slowly he put his arms around me, and we kissed again. I felt the tip of his tongue touch the side of my throat, and I shivered with pleasure. There was no place I wanted to be but in his arms.

  I felt something brush against my leg. Bubastis was there, circling us, rubbing against Danilo first, then me, all while purring sweetly. There were still traces of blood on her face. When she had finished letting us know she was there she sat and began cleaning her face with her paw, carefully, methodically.

  The blood is the life.

  * * *

  I aced the final. No problem. After class I went to Danilo’s office and he graded my paper while I waited. A+. We kissed again. It seemed to me that all we did was kiss and touch and make love. And that was just fine.

  Though I had not taken any formal piano instruction that summer, I had of course stayed in practice. Roland gave me nothing but praise for my progress at the keyboard. Loving Danilo fired my art, or so it seemed. At the winter recital he wanted me to have a go at the Schubert Wanderer Fantasy.

  The suggestion made me self-conscious. “But Roland, that’s such a tough piece. I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew, not again.”

  “You can do it. You’ve gotten better. This time you won’t just have the passion, you’ll have the technique.”

  “But—”

  “Besides, I want you to have a real challenge in front of you. You’ve got the talent to do it. Stretch yourself till you can.”

  He knew, or suspected, about my affair with Danilo. He disapproved—that was obvious—but he seemed to understand that Danilo was good for me, and he never said anything. That meant a great deal to me.

  * * *

  The next morning was brilliant with sunshine. But it was already hot, a hideous August day, and the humidity was climbing. I woke early.

  Bubastis was sleeping beside me as usual. She woke, yawned, stared at me, then curled up and went back to sleep.

  I headed for the kitchen to make some breakfast. It was a mess. Greg had spent the night with Justin, and they must have gotten up for a snack in the middle of the night. Annoyed with them, I found some clean bowls and a griddle and started a batch of hotcakes.

  Things between them and me had been tense. When they realized Bubastis could walk, they thought I had invented or exaggerated her broken leg. Plainly there was no way I could tell them how she had been healed. And so, in Justin’s mind I was the liar, not Greg; I was trying to break up their affair. Villainous me.

  The telephone rang.

  Danilo.

  “Are you packed?”

  “Packed?”

  “I’ll be there to pick you up in 20 minutes.”

  “What are you ta
lking about?”

  “We’re going away, remember? I promised.”

  I had forgotten. It had seemed so… unimportant, I guess. “No, I’m not packed yet.”

  “Then pack now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I forgot about breakfast and headed for the bedroom. I hadn’t asked him how long we’d be gone. How much should I take?

  Bubastis sniffed at my bag. She remembered the last time I packed it and knew it meant I’d be leaving for a time. And she made it clear she was unhappy. The thought of leaving her with Justin and Greg… I tried not to think about it. Despite his ongoing hostility to me, Greg had been on his best behavior. Instead of protecting him, his secretiveness only made him vulnerable, but that wasn’t a realization he seemed able to make.

  I had just started packing when a car drove up and the horn sounded. I looked out the window to see Danilo. He was at the wheel of a Corvette, a bright red one. I had never seen him in a car before. I was so used to seeing him in an ancient setting, full of papyrus and alabaster, that the sight startled me. He smiled a breezy smile and waved.

  I ran out to meet him. He put his arms around me, and we kissed for a long time on the sidewalk. There was a time when it would have made me self-conscious. Now I didn’t care.

  “You didn’t say how long we’re going for. I don’t know what to pack.”

  “The skimpiest clothes you have. I want everyone to see.”

  In bright sunlight his hair always seemed grayer. And his eyes greener. I swear, I would have made love to him then and there if he’d asked me to.

  “I’m serious. What should I bring?”

  “Enough for a week. Nothing too dressy, all right?”

  I ran back inside while he waited on the sidewalk, polishing his car like a good suburban husband. It was so incongruous. Ten minutes later I nuzzled Bubastis to say goodbye, left a note for Justin, and we hit the road.

  He avoided the Interstates. We traveled one back road after another. I hoped we’d keep going. Every town we passed through reminded me of Ebensburg.

  After a while he asked why I looked so gloomy, and I told him it was reminding me of home—what I smilingly called home, because I had no choice.