The Vampire's Angel

by Damian Serbu

  6 June 1789 After Midnight

  DARKNESS HAD ENVELOPED Paris as Thomas hurried along, afraid that his conversation with Catherine had taken too long and kept him from his beloved curé. Although lamps illuminated many of the streets, the fog rolled off the river and reduced the lights to glowing embers. And the narrower passages, between older residential dwellings and rows of salons, often had no light posts. Thomas saw well enough and would sense any approaching person, but the darkness added to Paris’s mystery.

  He passed by one street and then halted. He needed to hurry but spied a vagrant hovering in the corner. Feeding was a wonderful prospect. When hungry, he could smell the blood running through a human’s veins from afar. He had not indulged in many days because he had been spending so much time with Xavier. Thomas walked toward the individual to ascertain whether or not he was fair game.

  The man, probably in his thirties, lay sound asleep on the sidewalk against a wall. He was filthy and obviously drunk, from his stench. Thomas leaned toward the man, who made no move as he slept. A prime target.

  Without more thought, Thomas ripped the man’s shirt off, gripped him by the neck, lifted him an inch off the ground, and sank his teeth into the man’s bicep, happy to find at least one patch of semi-clean skin where the shirt had covered his arm. As the blood flowed down his throat, though, Thomas almost dropped the man. Nothing. No sign of evil. No harm done to anyone.

  But Thomas brought death anyway, a mercy killing. He had never contemplated such an act before, but seeing this man’s history in the blood propelled him to do it. He had suffered from extreme poverty, and already had a number of diseases that pained him constantly. He drank to forget. His family had cast him out, society shunned him, and he was always sick. He begged people to kill him. He often ventured into dangerous areas and picked fights with the hope of a swift execution. He harbored thoughts of jumping off of bridges but could never bring himself to a suicide. The man’s physical and emotional agony convinced Thomas to kill him. Such compassion had to fit within the ethic somewhere. The deed done, and with the blood reviving him, Thomas ran the rest of the way to the church. He saw Xavier writing at an upstairs table and watched from afar, reveling in the priest’s beauty, memories of the man he had just killed fading quickly.

  Xavier noticed him after he entered the garden, jumped from his chair, and ran downstairs. He went outside and greeted Thomas in the garden.

  “I thought perhaps you wouldn’t come this evening.”

  “I apologize. I had other pressing matters. I’d have left you to sleep, but I saw Catherine and she indicated that you often stay up late Saturday night.”

  “I was afraid that I angered you the other night and chased you away.”

  “Stop it. I told you that I won’t just disappear. May I enter?”

  “Of course.” Xavier stepped aside and ushered Thomas into the church. “Why did you go to Catherine?”

  Thomas paused, searching for a valid answer that would not give too much away. He regretted having gone to Catherine in his desperation for help. What if she told Xavier everything? Too late. He had once again violated the ethic and risked everything in his quest for Xavier. Times such as this reminded him why Anthony emphasized the risk of becoming too intimate with humans and involved in their lives. “I needed advice about matters that she can help me with here in Paris, since I am unfamiliar with many of its customs.”

  “Business? She knows more than you would expect. Don’t underestimate her because she’s a woman.”

  “I never would,” Thomas said, relieved that he got out of his predicament that easily.

  They snuck through the back of the sanctuary and up the stairs to Xavier’s quarters, because when they met this late Xavier took Thomas to his rooms to avoid being seen by unwelcoming eyes. Xavier fell onto his bed and, as usual, waited for Thomas to begin. He looked adorable as he propped his head in his hands and smiled like a damsel in love.

  Thomas sat down next to him. “Why are you still awake?”

  “It takes me a long time to prepare for Sunday mass. Sometimes, like today, I finish early. I still stay up, though, and reread as many times as possible, especially my sermon.”

  “Everything carries such weight with you,” Thomas said softly. “Always trying to save people.” He grinned and grabbed Xavier by the chin, who blushed and rolled away.

  “I know you don’t want to hear about my sermon, but I’m preaching on food. It sounds mad. My elders despise it, it’s not didactic enough, but I’m trying to get my parishioners to share their food. Anyway, what brings you at this late hour?”

  “I never need a reason. But since you mention it,” he moved closer, “I have something to tell you.”

  “What?” Xavier’s hand trembled as he sat upright and tucked his knees beneath his chin. He wore a pair of pants and white shirt, nothing else, and his thin frame and slight but enticing musculature showed through.

  “You already know. The other night I tried to kiss you. I respect completely why you couldn’t return the favor. But we never talked about it. We pretended that it never happened. We discuss everything else constantly, but this we ignore. You don’t need to say anything or change your mind, but I have to say this: I love you, abbé. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I love every minute with you and swoon when I look into your eyes. You believe the church’s teaching about sodomy. As you know, I think it’s natural. I’m not forcing anything on you. I just wanted you to know.”

  Total silence. Thomas held his breath, wondering if perhaps he had gone too far. And then Xavier spoke.

  “Thomas, you know—at least I think you know—oh...” Xavier fumbled with his toes. He whispered, Thomas realized in prayer, and then blurted, “You know I feel the same. I love you, too. But I can’t defy God. I dream about you constantly but it’s sinful. I can’t serve my parish if I can’t abide by the faith that I proclaim to love. Please understand. It’s not you. And, if you don’t mind, if we couldn’t mention it again. I struggle with it too much as it is. I mean—”

  “Shh, quiet. I understand. Forget it. Let’s change the subject,” Thomas said. “Your understanding of Catholicism fascinates me. You adhere to all of its laws and precepts to the letter in your life, yet you defy the rules all the time as they pertain to your parish. Why is there a difference?”

  “I vowed to obey the Lord, according to strict Catholicism. Priests must understand this on a profound level. The people will sin, and then it’s our job to teach. Don’t misunderstand me, I sin constantly, too. All priests do. But there’s a difference between blatant disregard for God’s law and human nature. Priests know that on a deeper level.”

  “But why are the rules different for them?”

  “They aren’t. Except that the people get into predicaments without thinking. If I fall too far from a true path, how can I expect to lead them back to it? If I indulge in anything, I risk losing sight of what’s important.”

  Amazing innocence, but it hid a sadness. While Xavier accepted anything from anyone else, he never allowed himself even small pleasures.

  They drifted through more theological topics, then Xavier told Thomas about his sermon. Thomas basked in yet another night with the man of his dreams. He recognized the battle ahead of him but would risk everything if even a small chance existed for them, and Xavier’s proclamation of love offered hope.

  Xavier: Maria's Confession

  6 June 1789 Afternoon

  SUNDAY MORNING ALWAYS found Xavier tired, but today he felt good. He always hoped that his sermons encouraged at least one person to do something good, and he loved his usual Sunday afternoons when Maria came to visit and walk around the neighborhood. Sometimes they chatted with children, sometimes they helped feed people, sometimes they cleaned the church or assisted the elderly. The church also had the responsibility to educate the citizens of France, so they instructed all sorts of people in reading during their Sunday sojourns. However, Maria and he did this service more
as an excuse to spend time together.

  “You brought your basket again,” Xavier said and smiled at her. “I thought I had convinced you that you needed a bigger one if you want to feed all these people.”

  “I’ve had this basket for a long time, and I do not intend to give it up.” Maria’s plump cheeks reddened as she grinned back.

  “It’s too small. Remember the day I met you, when you had bread falling all over the ground? I had to help you or the birds would have gotten more than the people.”

  “But without this small basket, we may not have met and continued this tradition. We help a lot more people together than separate, and this basket reminds me of that.”

  Maria and Xavier continued on their way, enjoying the conversation and gossiping about church politics. Today they stopped talking only long enough to politely but quickly greet someone. Finally, on a deserted street, Maria stopped and focused her clear gaze on him. “Abbé, something’s bothering you.”

  He sighed and bowed his head. “I have a problem, but it defies the church each time that I allow myself to even think about it.”

  “Why don’t you go to confession? That’s what you suggest to us. We’re always traipsing to some church for confession, or having the priest come to us. It annoys me, but I admit that I feel better after. Doesn’t that work for priests? Or can you confess to yourself and be done with it?”

  “No, I’d get tired of running from one side of the confessional to the other.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously, why not go to confession?”

  “I’m afraid this can never enter the confessional. You know that we keep things from our colleagues for good reason.”

  They walked again, halting once to greet some children who were playing in the street.

  “What is it that you can’t tell the church?” she pressed. “What’s so grave that you suffer alone?”

  Xavier hesitated before responding. “I harbor a secret that might defrock me. I can’t utter it to another soul, but it won’t go away.”

  “I hope that you know by now that I’ll never betray you. You can tell me anything and it won’t change how I feel about you. Unless, of course, you’ve killed someone.”

  “Heavens, no! But I have impure thoughts,” Xavier admitted in a rush.

  “Sex?” She looked at him, eyes wide. “This is about sex?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Just say it. I think I already know, anyway.”

  “Why make me say it? I love him. The man you found me with that night in the garden. I’ve the most sinful longings for him and they won’t disappear. I pray constantly for strength and mercy, but the passion only increases.”

  Maria chuckled, then sat on a bench. She was sweating profusely and breathing heavily from walking so fast. “Is that it? I always thought you were too sheltered, but this, this is beyond anything I dreamt. Stop fretting so much. Do you think that you’re the only one in the church struggling with this? You’d be surprised what goes on in this church.”

  “What?” Xavier’s heart pounded.

  “Do you think the nuns around you are blind? I know about your fellow priests who took a vow of chastity that doesn’t seem to apply to their relations with one another. Why don’t you hunt one down?”

  “Maria!” Xavier glanced around. “How does this help me? I’m in love with a layman, someone who doesn’t even believe in Christianity.”

  “Let me ask again. Do you think that you’re the only one who has these feelings?”

  “The nuns feel the same way?”

  “Of course. The church may segregate us, but women are people, too.”

  “And you feel that way?”

  “Yes,” Maria said. “You’re not alone. You’ve entered a very secretive world, that’s all, one that’s kept hidden. You can enter it. Listen, I know that it goes against our beliefs. But I also know that we all sin, and that this, which is about love, is a smaller sin.”

  “Do you have a particular lover?”

  “More than one.”

  He gaped at her.

  “Not many, but more than one and I consider all of them my girls.”

  More than one? His mind reeled. “I don’t think I could have more than one. I love Thomas. For me, it’s about my passion for him.”

  “You mustn’t do it. Promise never to tell him or anyone else about this. This is a private matter, within the church. Xavier, it always has been and it must stay that way.”

  “But you have multiple lovers.”

  “Within the church,” Maria stressed each syllable for emphasis before she stopped and looked at a family coming toward them. “Good Lord. We forgot the Gustavs—we’ll talk later. But you must keep this in the church. It’s a grave secret. Put this Thomas out of your mind. There are plenty of others around who’ll nurture you and treat you like a lady.” Maria laughed and within seconds transformed into her professional self.

  Xavier, on the other hand, had a difficult time hiding his confusion. It had felt good to confide in her, yet her little fiefdom of nuns and priests, running around in the dark, held no allure. He had known that such things existed. He had seen it in seminary a hundred times and heard the rumors about rural priests who served the same parish together for years and years and lived in the same dwelling with the church’s dignity sheltering them from prying eyes. Xavier had resisted this, but with Thomas his heart had changed.

  Xavier was thankful for the distraction because it took his mind off Thomas and his other worries. He and Maria had to administer a baptism that the rest of the church refused because the mother became pregnant prior to the marriage. He and Maria joked that they had a hidden church within the Catholic Church. Xavier could immerse himself in becoming this bridge between the church and his people, something that made him forget his own anguished love if but for a little while.

  Catherine: Marcel and Catherine

  8 June 1789

  MICHEL’S NOTE THAT morning had sent Catherine into a flurry of preparations. First, he had announced his imminent arrival and that he required a room. She had the servants prepare his usual bedroom. And though he never revealed any secrets, Michel hinted that things had escalated between the Estates General and king, which prompted the army’s mobilization. This hardly surprised her, since she heard angrier and angrier denunciations of Louis when she went to the salons. She also worked this morning to protect the family legacy. She hid family heirlooms in secret rooms, passages, and cellars, and planned to move their financial assets out of France, possibly to America.

  As she raced around a corner, she almost ran into the head butler. “You frightened me, sir.”

  “Sorry, Madame,” he answered.

  “What is it?” she asked, seeing his expression.

  “Mr. André is here to see you.”

  “Blast. I completely forgot.” She smoothed her hair as she walked down the stairs into the entry hall. “Marcel, I forgot about our appointment. Please come in.” Before he spoke, she pulled him into the parlor and pushed him into a chair.

  “Catherine, slow down,” he said dourly. “What are you busy with?”

  “Michel announced that he’s coming home soon.”

  “Oh, joy,” Marcel drawled sarcastically. “I can’t wait to see him again.”

  She ignored his comment. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “I’d love a glass of wine but I refuse to drink alone. Join me.”

  She poured wine and handed him a glass.

  “I see that you moved a few things,” he said and pointed across the room.

  She looked but saw nothing unusual, so turned back to him and smiled. “No, nothing in here.” She took a sip of wine and noticed that it strangely bubbled but tasted delightful. Her head swam. Marcel was absolutely radiant. No man attracted her as he, who made it difficult to maintain decorum.

  “So, what brought you today?” she asked, feeling giddy and aroused.

  “Nothing in particular. I had bu
siness in the area.” Marcel stood, came toward her, and hovered, creating an indescribable thrill.

  She leaned closer to him. “I love your visits. What type of business brought you all the way to this side of town?”

  “Disagreeable work. I had to curse a customer,” he said.

  “Curse?” She looked at him, puzzled. What did he mean by that?

  “Yes. He refused to pay for goods that he ordered. It was the second time. I’m stuck with these items in my shop. They’re dreadful. No one else will ever buy them, and so he saddles me with their uselessness. I warned him that this time I wouldn’t take kindly to his dumping stuffed bats and the like on me. So I cursed—”

  “Bats? Dead bats? How odd. And what did you mean by cursed?”

  Marcel smiled, too sweetly, and bent over and kissed her on the cheek. “Nothing to worry about, merely part of my trade. If you must know, I have certain, shall we say, connections in the new world. They traffic in a religion peculiar to that area that they call voodoo. Things like bats and snakes play a part in their rituals, but they also become a novelty among certain Frenchmen who think it funny to display them.”

  “That’s repulsive,” Catherine said, wrinkling her nose and imagining a stuffed bat in the parlor.

  “Well, they’re not very charming to hang about the house, I agree.”

  “But you haven’t answered my question. What did you mean by curse?” A spike of warning pierced through the little fog in her brain. “Do you practice this magic?”

  He waved dismissively. “I dabble in it. Nothing important, nothing to worry about, just a small potion here and there for good fortune.”

  “And the curse?”

  “Funny girl. It was just an expression. I went to collect my money. Now get these thoughts out of your head.”

  She giggled, feeling silly that it frightened her. “Can you forgive me?”

  “A million times.” He chucked her under the cheek.