The Vampire's Angel

by Damian Serbu

  “Since you don’t seek spiritual counseling, and so long as you promise not to enter my confessional, how about Xavier?”

  Thomas grinned, and a strange little spark danced down Xavier’s spine. “Agreed,” he said. “What would you think of starting my tour of Paris at the Seine? I love the breeze and view of Paris from there.”

  “I’d be delighted.” Xavier nodded and smiled in return.

  Together, they sauntered toward the river, engaged in easy conversation. Xavier told Thomas about the riots, about the king, and about his view of the revolution. They chatted about mundane matters with no particular destination or motive. Xavier hated that the night finally ended when they returned to his church and bid adieu and he hoped, desperately so, to see this man again but his fear of rejection kept him from saying anything further.

  Xavier: He Returns

  16 May 1789 9:30 p.m.

  IT WAS TOO dark. Xavier felt like a fool in the garden as he pretended to weed without the ability to see a foot in front of himself. He had come out here again tonight, immediately after dinner with Catherine, hoping that Thomas might return. But it was too late to count on a visit.

  What had Xavier expected, anyway? His weakness angered him. Why did he hope for this forbidden dream and delude himself?

  He had gone over their conversations a million times. They had talked freely about so much, the American revolution, monarchies, French politics, even religion. Thomas had at first resisted revealing his atheism but Xavier had guessed and pulled it out of him, then had the hardest time convincing him that it didn’t matter. Xavier divulged little of his own opinions, however, because he still struggled to share personal feelings. But in spite of their differences, Xavier loved Thomas’s bold presence.

  Stop it, he told himself. You have a duty to God and the people. You may see Thomas if he needs assistance to honor your calling, but you must cease these unnatural yearnings.

  Xavier picked himself off the ground and smelled the flowers in the soft breeze that blew through Paris, overpowering the other less attractive smells in the air. He collected himself and started toward the church. For the second night, his neighborhood was quiet except for the sounds of a few children and revelers, typical for a spring evening, and certainly not indicative of a riot.

  He walked slowly toward the church and admired its simple, small beauty. The diocese had tried to close it a number of times but the parishioners kept the church alive. Xavier loved serving here, amidst the common people, helping them through their daily struggles with poverty and famine.

  The sound of footsteps broke his contemplation.

  “Abbé, I hoped to find you here. I’m sorry about the late hour. I was doing business.”

  Xavier’s heart pounded when he saw the long black hair, glanced at the broad smile, and heard Thomas Lord’s confident voice.

  “I thought you didn’t come to Paris on business alone.”

  “I didn’t,” Thomas answered evenly. “But I still have matters to attend to. I promised not to lie to you anymore. I’ve kept my word.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

  “No offense taken,” Thomas said, before smiling again.

  “What can I do for you?” Xavier struggled for words but, too nervous, instead sounded like the authoritative priests he despised.

  Thomas’s smile vanished and he frowned. “I didn’t come here to be insulted. I can entertain myself if it disrupts your plans.”

  “No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way,” Xavier backpedaled. “I enjoy your company immensely. I just had some things on my mind. Please—”

  “Perhaps we need to stop being so nervous with one another. Can we be friends? Pardon my forward behavior, but last night I felt an attraction to you and wanted your company and to see Paris through your eyes. I confess my ignorance of French custom, and I don’t know anything about the Catholic Church, so I don’t know if I’m crossing some boundary. But can we become friends without all of the pretense and nervousness?”

  Xavier listened, exhilarated and terrified all at once.

  “Excuse my boldness,” Thomas continued, “but I want companionship beyond the casual acquaintances I’ve met thus far. I love spending time with you. My friends say that my biggest fault is telling people exactly how I feel, but now you know.”

  They stared at each other before Xavier glanced at the ground. Why me? he wondered. Thomas’s proposition came with innuendo. The mere idea of a personal friendship made Xavier nervous, but was Thomas suggesting something else? He was lost. His entire life he had fought his sexual attraction to men. He knew from an early age about the sin of such urges, but they came to him all too often. He entered seminary, hoping for a magical cure within the priesthood’s celibate world but instead found only more admonitions to control oneself, but no solutions.

  “I overstepped my bounds,” Thomas quietly said and started to leave.

  His heart pounding, Xavier forsook his shyness. “Please, come back. Forgive me.”

  “Are you certain? Xavier, I can’t tell you what this means to me. But you have to stop apologizing. Every other sentence out of your mouth requests forgiveness. The Catholic Church’s teaching on guilt means too much to you.”

  “I’m sorry, I only mean—”

  “See? There you go again,” Thomas said, a gentleness in his tone that caused Xavier’s breath to catch in his throat.

  Xavier smiled meekly as he almost apologized yet again. True to Thomas’s words, Xavier took the church’s teaching on humility to heart.

  “Is something funny?” Thomas asked.

  “If you really want this friendship, then I must begin with a confession, one I think you already know. I don’t have friends.” He raised his hand to ward off any response from Thomas just yet. “I know. It sounds preposterous, but I have colleagues and parishioners, and I have a deeply intimate relationship with my family. But I live with a sense of obligation to humanity that has never allowed for personal relationships.”

  “I did guess as much. But you should revel in life from time to time. You’ll find that I take things to the opposite extreme. I’ll teach you all that you wish and more. May we sit?”

  “Of course.”

  Xavier ushered him toward a bench, with only a faint lantern for illumination. Thomas sat next to him and looked into his eyes. The proximity aroused Xavier, sending panic through his body as his stimulation increased. Before either of them said anything, Thomas laughed aloud.

  “Abbé, you astound me. Why are you petrified? Your face is bright red.”

  “Please, it’s Xavier.” He had never said that to anyone outside his family. The church strictly forbade intimacy between curé and flock, and Xavier was not close to any of his colleagues except one nun.

  “Xavier it is, then. Do you always look so distressed?”

  “No, really—not usually. I just don’t know what to do with this...friendship.” He said the word slowly, savoring it, uncertain what it meant.

  “Well, what can I do to help?”

  “I’m not sure. What do we do?”

  “I see I have my work cut out for me,” Thomas said dryly. “We just do what we did last night. We talk and learn from each other. And there will be times we need to help each other. I’ll never need a priest, but I may need companionship.” Thomas patted Xavier on the back, sending shivers down Xavier’s spine. “It’s exceedingly difficult to explain how friendship works, but we’ll manage. Make this agreement with me. We’ll just enjoy the company, and when you need clarification or feel the urge to apologize, tell me and we’ll address those concerns as they come.”

  “I’ll do my best, but tell me when I fail.”

  “You’ll never have to guess about my feelings. In fact, I already have a concern.”

  “What is that, Thomas?”

  “I hear a lot of anticlerical sentiment in Paris. What keeps you safe?”

  Xavier shrugged. “They lash out at th
e establishment. My parish never threatens me. True, worship attendance has suffered, but I don’t fear the people I serve.”

  “Will the militia assist you?”

  “There’s no need for such extreme measures. They attack that which threatens them, and this small church in no way endangers these people. You already know that I share many of their sentiments.”

  Thomas seemed assuaged and for the next hour, they chatted as they had the night before, about the riots, government, and Paris. The more they talked, the more Xavier relaxed. But his initial hesitance embarrassed him. He found Thomas’s familiarity liberating and fun, with no inhibitions or threat of condemnation. Perhaps friendship was as simple as this, and as they quietly talked behind the church, Xavier lost track of time. He was jolted out of this leisure, however, when he heard steps echoing up the catacomb’s entrance behind the church.

  Oh, no. How could he forget Maria? All of this talk of friendship and he had forgotten his one friend. Well, his one friend in the Catholic Church. Nor could he forget about Anne, the former slave laundress who he visited regularly to discuss theology. She and Maria both qualified as friends. Perhaps his problem with friendship had to do with male friendships and not friendship in general? Maria and he had arranged a visit this evening to ensure the secrecy of their plans without the watchful eye of church authorities, and in his infatuation with Thomas, he had forgotten.

  Xavier jumped off the bench and away from Thomas too late. Thomas looked befuddled and then saw the approaching figure. The plump nun, dressed in black, stood quietly.

  “Is this a bad time, abbé?”

  “Sister, good evening. No, not at all. Please come,” Xavier said. As he floundered around, unsure what to say, Thomas rose and headed toward the gate. He nodded his head and smiled, as if to say he understood, though Xavier worried that he had offended him.

  “Good night, abbé. Thank you for your counsel. It has brought me comfort.” Thomas walked away into the night and Xavier stared after him, then caught himself and turned to Maria.

  “Did you forget our plans?”

  “Of course not. The gentleman sought comfort about a...a business and personal matter.”

  “Is there anything wrong?”

  Xavier wiped his brow, and noticed that his hand was shaking. “No.”

  She raised her eyebrow at him, skeptical, but he ushered her into the sanctuary and closed the door. She walked forward in silence. Xavier’s heart pounded as he followed. Did she suspect? Did she somehow know?

  Thomas: Blood Passion

  16 May 1789 Late evening

  THOMAS LEFT XAVIER with the nun, glancing back only to show that all was fine between them. Xavier’s sudden jump from the bench and startled expression had shocked Thomas, but when he saw the nun appear from the catacombs, he understood, and watched as the nun and priest went into the church, then he swooned at the outline of Xavier’s head, loving the mere shadows that the beautiful abbé cast. He had to leave before he jumped through the window and ravaged the priest’s body.

  Thomas walked through Paris, never bored with watching humanity. Being confined to the night did not bother him. Others longed for the sun and questioned the goodness of their souls while they pronounced themselves evil. Not Thomas. He never wondered about such divine nonsense. Instead, he reveled in eternal life and his power. As far as watching people, he found the night proved infinitely more interesting than the daylight. People did more entertaining things under cover of darkness and indulged in forbidden pleasures or masked their crimes.

  When Anthony made him, he had taught Thomas quickly to only feed on criminals and to never touch the innocent. Anthony commanded him to obey this ethic, that no other lesson meant more. Thomas smiled, thinking about how Anthony also agreed with him about the vampire’s soul. He saw no overt evil or alliance with a devil. Rather, he saw a transformation through the blood that his kind kept hidden from mortals. Oh, how Anthony had sounded like an Enlightenment era philosopher. But Thomas held to the code.

  He walked toward his favorite bars in Paris, craving people. A man’s blood. Thomas licked his lips. Xavier, that innocent, angelic priest, brought out the worst in him. He grinned at the irony and set to work hunting to quell his rising hunger.

  It never took long in these modern cities to find fitting victims. One only had to look into another’s eyes to view evil. People seldom disguised their natures because they felt that nothing threatened them. Indeed, a likely candidate for this night’s amusement suddenly stood before Thomas. Moments later he left the degenerate soul dead in the alley. Thomas wiped the blood carefully off his mouth, avoiding another taste of it so as not to see a repeat of the man’s murderous existence. The one curse that came with his vampirism was the fact that in tasting the blood he also saw the victim’s life pass before his eyes.

  Fed, Thomas felt better, but he had tired of watching people and Paris, so he dashed through the darkened, damp streets to his flat.

  Inside, he reveled in the serenity of his home, removing his clothing. He had always loved being naked. Thomas liked the feel of different wooden chairs or plush velvet on his skin, and his vampire senses heightened this pleasure. He sank into his favorite silk chair.

  Without meaning to and within minutes he had pleasured himself. The young man from the night before barely satisfied him. He wanted something deeper. And so it served his purposes more to satisfy the urges alone, to envision Xavier underneath him, clinging in love.

  Ah, Xavier. You haunt me. Thomas frowned, thinking about him. Could the priest ever accept his own sexual longings? Thomas had no such qualms himself. In contrast, Thomas saw fear on Xavier’s face when they sat near one another, or when Thomas intentionally brushed his hand against Xavier’s. Sighing, Thomas stood and began pacing throughout his apartment. What to do? He ached for Xavier but the mere thought irritated him. He had known Xavier for only two days. How could he possibly possess such strong feelings?

  Yet he could not delude himself. Thomas spent almost every moment contemplating making Xavier his mate. The one thing that he longed for, the one area of his life that remained unfulfilled and empty, was the absence of a partner. He knew that this emptiness made him bitter and angry at times. Perhaps Xavier would solve this issue for him. He had no doubt that Xavier would enjoy the passive role and want the protection Thomas offered, if only he would yield to his sexual longings. Perhaps, after Xavier accepted the love of another man, it would destroy his faith in that damnable Catholic Church and allow Thomas to tell him who he really was.

  Thomas laughed. His confidence astounded even him. He stood gazing out into the night, thinking. How to proceed? Anthony had made the lessons simple for him, about how easy it seemed to navigate through eternity. But he had failed to explain that emotion persisted in the darkness, that desire for love and companionship intensified the longer Thomas remained alone. True, Anthony had mentioned the need for a mate and had hoped for such companionship from Thomas, but both proved too strong-willed to stay with each other as lovers.

  Yet in all those lessons, Anthony had failed to mention the intensity of these feelings that Xavier had brought to the forefront of Thomas’s existence. And now, how could he convince Xavier to accept sex with another man? And how would he react to the possibility of eternal life? Would the priest in him see only sin and damnation? And if all of that happened, how could he secure a bond with Xavier?

  Thomas wrapped a silk robe around himself and went onto the balcony. The still darkness of this street surrounded him with peace. But in his mind, loneliness plagued him. He knew it now more than ever and realized that he wanted a lifemate.

  Catherine: Betrothal

  24 May 1789 Afternoon

  WHAT WAS XAVIER hiding. For the past few days, he had left earlier each night. They spent almost every evening together, having dinner, reading, and talking until they were too tired to continue. But recently he left even before sunset, mentioning some nonsense about obligations and work, but C
atherine suspected that he was hiding something. As they sat together again this evening, talking about the day’s events, she listened for a while but finally stopped him.

  “Where do you go when you leave here?”

  “Go?”

  “At night, when you leave here.” Catherine poured more tea and took a sip. “You’re doing something. You can’t hide from me.” She looked at him pointedly. “You leave before dusk now, and I want to know why.”

  “I return to the church,” he hedged.

  “To do what?”

  “What do you want to know?” Xavier’s face turned red, betraying him.

  Comprehension dawned. “You’ve met someone! Who is it?”

  Xavier looked at the floor and fumbled with the cross dangling from his neck.

  “You’re seeing someone. I knew it.” She sat back, surprised but delighted. “Tell me everything.”

  “Catherine, please.” Xavier looked around the room. “I took a vow of celibacy. There’s no woman in my life.”

  “I never said that.” She wanted to blurt out that she knew Xavier fancied men over women but thought better of it.

  “Fine. I have a friend from America who visits. There’s nothing else. We talk about many things. He isn’t Catholic.” Xavier leaned forward with a huge grin. “This sounds ridiculous, but he’s my friend. Except for you and Anne, I don’t have anyone from outside the church to talk to. So that’s my secret. Rather anti-climactic. I didn’t tell you because it sounds so trifling.”

  “Well, thank you for doing so. I’ll leave you alone...for now. We just got through the anniversary of father’s death and now today arrives. How are you?”

  “I know this day affects you and Michel. It certainly hurt father, but I only reflect upon it mildly. I obviously can’t recall it.”

  Catherine strained to remember their mother, strained to remember that fateful day. The Saint-Laurent household had buzzed with excitement because the promised baby was soon to arrive. She and Michel heard over and over about the responsibility they had in helping raise it and comforting their mother after the birth. Catherine and Michel had waited patiently in the adjacent room to their mother’s quarters when suddenly, the nurse raced out and shouted for the butler to get a doctor. Soon thereafter, their father ran through the room without looking at them. When he got into the bedroom, he roared with grief. It was the first sound they heard from behind the door, their father wailing and beating his fists against the wall.