by Damian Serbu
“I thought that voodoo taught you not to harm or threaten a priest?”
“I’m just trying to keep him from interfering with my engagement. I thought our deal allowed that.”
Thomas slapped him. “You’re to have no contact with him unless by chance, with Catherine in the room. No spies. No bones.” Thomas leaned his face one inch from the man. “Stay away. No bones, no spells, nothing that might endanger the priest. Your spy suffered for your transgressions. I’ve lived up to my end of the bargain. This is the last time I’ll warn you about Xavier.”
He threw Marcel violently against the wall. His head cracked against the wood and he fell to the ground, his eyes dazed as blood ran down his cheek. Yet he still smirked at Thomas, glaring at him with a dangerous menace. What was this man capable of doing?
It took all of the will power Thomas had to leave him alive. To control himself, Thomas fled to the church, where the sight of Xavier talking in the street relieved him immediately. Xavier smiled warmly and beckoned for Thomas. He was talking with a burly man, obviously a worker of some sort, with a gruff appearance and musculature that indicated regular labor.
“Thomas,” Xavier said, “I’d like you to meet Denys Girard.”
Thomas bowed.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Denys said, “I have to go. Thomas, Father Saint-Laurent said that he had an appointment with you and I apologize for taking too much time. I was on security patrol this evening and we’re all worried about our abbé’s safety, so we took it upon ourselves to initiate a guard so that no one harms him.”
Thomas bowed again as the man departed. “Not many priests have a personal guard.”
“Denys came a couple of nights ago with this offer. I really think it unnecessary, but he insisted.”
“I’ve been worried about you, too, what with Paris turning into a battlefield, and I wondered what would protect you from the idiots who indiscriminately attack anything that represents that which they hate.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m safe in this parish.”
Xavier always made things sound so simple and easy. Thomas worried about him through the day when the sun forced him into hibernation. More problematic, it made it twice as difficult to be patient because he wanted to bring Xavier over at once. Knowing that these men, strong men, protected Xavier put him at ease.
They drifted through their nightly ritual of talking, first about the revolution and then about increasingly intimate topics. Tonight, Thomas held Xavier’s hand as they sat in his room and nestled against each other. Xavier stayed close to him yet clearly indicated he would go no further. Thomas even hinted at same-sex love and the church’s teaching. Not surprisingly, Xavier saw nothing wrong with it between two of his parishioners but would not even broach the subject about himself.
But even as Thomas openly shared his sexuality and let Xavier know what he wanted, he felt guilty, not about loving another man or wanting to devour Xavier or even about discussing it. No, he trembled inside because of his secret.
Thomas: Vampier Deux
9 July 1789 Midnight
AFTER XAVIER WENT to bed, Thomas wandered around Paris because he hated being alone with his desperate feelings toward Xavier.
Before meeting the priest, he had always secluded himself, afraid of his temper if he interacted with people, but that became problematic because his rage built when he sat alone doing nothing in his apartment. Too much time to brood with no distractions. He took to meandering because it diluted his misery with its occasional diversions. He had even tried to help people, as he had that young man under the bridge who prostituted himself. Unlike Xavier, however, it gave him no more hope for the future. True, it satisfied him to assist the desperate, but it got him no closer to Xavier and did little to quell his frustration. Tonight, however, Paris was surprisingly quiet and offered little distraction.
Thomas walked silently along when he sensed a presence, something he had not felt in Paris until now. A vampire.
The softer footfall, the quick pace, the inaudible breath that only his ears could hear. Usually, urban landscapes offered vampires havens because of their anonymity. During his first weeks in Paris Thomas looked constantly for signs of the immortal and was shocked that none materialized. Most vampires coexisted peacefully and generally mapped out territories so as not to hunt in the same locations. They formed friendships if they shared interests or knew a mutual vampire, but mostly they kept to themselves. Of course, feuds did occur and almost always led to death. It might even line up alliances of vampires against one another. Because of that, and because he searched for a mate, Thomas was glad to be alone in Paris. He became so comfortable that he forgot entirely about other immortals.
But the distinct sounds of a vampire followed him.
This strange approach alarmed him. Vampires greeted openly to avoid hostility. This one hid. Thomas readied for combat by staying close to the lamps, having used fire effectively to fight off past attacks. He walked more slowly and waited for the next move, turning a couple of times to confirm that a vampire shadowed him. He also moved away from people, toward a quiet, residential street. He deliberately picked an aristocratic area because they typically slept through the night.
Thomas went down a new street, stopped suddenly, and spun around. Without hesitating, he flung himself back three lampposts and prepared to attack when he heard a familiar laugh.
At the sound, Thomas relaxed, though irritation shot through him. “Were you trying to get killed?”
The laughter continued, then Thomas saw the hunched figure two houses away. Someone shouted from their window to shut up, but the noise continued. Thomas rushed over to the figure.
“Thomas, really, you’re always ready to fight. I appreciate that you remembered the tactics that I taught, and you even obeyed the ethic, for the most part. I’m quite surprised.” Anthony stood and embraced him. “Don’t be angry. You can’t blame me for assessing your demeanor first.”
Thomas managed a smile, torn between anger that he hadn’t heard from Anthony in so long and relief that he was at last here. He looked him over, appraising. Anthony cut a striking figure. He stood about Thomas’s height, an unusual six feet three inches, but his hair was long and sandy blond. He appeared Nordic, with those locks and his piercing blue eyes. His muscles bulged out of his clothing. Though death transformed all vampire bodies physiologically into well-defined specimens, those in excellent condition beforehand became even larger. Anthony’s hair fell in his face as he smiled, and his seductive eyes enchanted him. If only one of them had been willing to take the passive role. They complemented one another well, Anthony with his quiet restraint and Thomas with his brash defiance. Unfortunately, both had to dominate.
“You’re lucky I didn’t flame these beautiful locks,” Thomas grabbed Anthony’s hair.
“No, you’re the lucky one.”
“I’m glad to see you.”
“I know. I can tell. Can we go to your flat? I hope that you’ve room for a wayward traveler. I came without notice and my rooms at the hotel won’t be ready until tomorrow.”
Thomas smiled, relieved that Anthony was here and they’d have some time together. “Follow me.”
“It took you forever to detect me,” Anthony said. “You’re always ready for something. I thought you’d sense me immediately.”
“I thought the same thing, once I knew you were there. But it’s shocked me. There are absolutely no other vampires in Paris. I got used to the isolation.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Anthony said.
“Why? A gorgeous city with a lot to offer—I think it’s even more anonymous than London. I expected to find legions of undead around every corner.”
“Did the revolution escape your attention?” Anthony asked, tone wry.
“Why would human problems influence vampires?”
“I still forget about your boldness. Nothing scares you. Revolutions are unpredictable. The people could rise up at any m
inute. There’s more threat of a fire, and someone could arbitrarily burn a building in defiance. Matters like these do increase our risk.”
“I’ve taken precautions. And other vampires’ fears have given me a city to myself.”
“Your letters didn’t portray this sense of happiness.”
Thomas was instantly angry. “I’m a little unsettled, no thanks to friends who abandoned me.”
“You know that’s not true,” Anthony said. “You always want instant results. I made you wait because I needed to know that you could handle the adversity by yourself. And you did, remarkably well, until the last letter. Then I knew that you needed me and I came at once. I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.”
“It could’ve been too late. I killed an innocent, you know.”
“Your letter explained as much, but you also said that you stopped when you realized it, until you figured out that he wanted to die and it became a mercy killing, which is permitted. Would you like to brood some more, or can we go out?”
“All right. We’ll talk later. Follow me. You’ll love my favorite hunting ground.”
Thomas: Mercy Killings
10 July 1789 1:00 a.m.
THOMAS AND ANTHONY headed to Thomas’s favorite brothel where he had killed a couple of young, male prostitutes. He came infrequently to avoid suspicion, and male whores had held no allure since he met Xavier. But Anthony’s arrival called for the best location.
When they hunted together, they moved slowly, took in the atmosphere, talked, and watched people before making their move. So they sat at a back table in the shadows, away from prying eyes. Thomas looked at the dirty floors, drunken old men, and vicious harlots, then as casually as possible asked Anthony about the revolution.
“If vampires are afraid of revolution, aren’t you?”
“Not really. I enjoy the atmosphere as much as you, though I loathe the French.”
Thomas started to answer when Anthony launched himself from the table toward the door. Only Thomas saw him at this speed and he followed just as quickly as he raced across the street and up a flight of stairs, into someone’s flat in seconds. By the time Thomas arrived, Anthony had fed on a rather ugly and large man.
“Hungry?” asked Thomas.
“He was beating a woman. I pretended to burst in to save her, and when she left I drank his blood.”
“You just violated the ethic,” Thomas said, knowing that Anthony would not appreciate the humor.
“You know the difference. I’m not part of their lives. I went in and now I’m leaving. No one can trace me. No one there knows me. Unlike you, who goes in and befriends an entire gaggle of people, tells them all you’re a vampire, and then can’t figure out how that puts us all in danger. But I suppose that gets us to the point of my visit. Let’s go to your flat for some privacy.”
Anthony put his arm around Thomas as they walked away from the carnage. They talked effortlessly as old pals. About the hunt. About friendship. About nothing. Yet the tension lingered palpably. Not surprisingly, they fell quiet as they headed toward his flat, Thomas waiting nervously for Anthony to start. His heart raced when Anthony finally brought it up with a simple statement.
“I’m here now. I came the minute I sensed the desperation in your letters. You wanted me here, I know that you need me, and so I arrived. I know you well enough not to try to change your mind, and you know me well enough to realize that I don’t approve of all that you’ve done.”
Thomas took a deep breath before he answered, stalling for time. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not angry, just hurt that it took so long.”
“That’s not what we need to discuss.”
“I knew that you wouldn’t like how much I was pursuing him and took that into account. But since we agreed that our relationship would never work, after trying hard and wandering all over America, we also accepted our disagreement about how soon I should look for a permanent mate. I’m not as patient as you. You never had a problem with this before.”
“But this is emotional and dangerous.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do,” Anthony said. “Do you really want to know what I think?”
“Of course.”
“Will you listen? Honestly listen? To everything that I say?”
Thomas made a disgusted noise. “Stop torturing me.”
They had entered Thomas’s apartment, and Thomas settled on a couch, though his legs twitched with nervousness.
Anthony walked to the window, then paced about and looked at the many priceless artifacts. Thomas had seen him like this a million times, whenever he offered a lesson about vampirism or reprimanded Thomas. His posture dominated, his expression became stern.
“Of all the things that I taught you, this will be the most important. Don’t take my warnings lightly. I want to protect you, but this situation is more serious than anything you’ve confronted before and your impatience frightens me.”
Anthony made Thomas feel like a small boy. He remembered his mother teaching him, his father scolding him, other members of his community instructing. Thomas digressed to the young man from the American frontier who had just become a vampire and looked with awe upon Anthony.
“You’ve been angry since I first met you,” Anthony said. “Charming and flirtatious? Yes. Loyal to a fault? Of course. But you grew up with an anger you never addressed, and it’s haunting you now.”
“I can control it.”
“Are you lying to me again, as you lied to me when we met? Do you lie to this priest the same way? Or are you that blind about yourself?”
“I never meant to hurt you. I wanted you to be happy, and I didn’t mind taking the passive role with you.”
“You did so in order to become a vampire. It’s my fault, as well. I shouldn’t have trusted you so soon. And now you’ve turned your wiles to someone else, and if I know anything about you, you’ve not told him anything yet and when you do, it will most certainly cause unbelievable pain, as it did with us.”
“You know I love you. I thought we had gotten over this.”
“We have.” Anthony rolled his eyes at Thomas. “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t my dearest friend. And I couldn’t be your friend if I still had the same emotions for you that I did when we met. You’re avoiding the issue at hand. This isn’t about us.”
“What is it, then?” But Thomas knew, he just didn’t want to say it. His anger. He had to get it under control, and he tried and tried but it never worked.
“Have you ever admitted, even to yourself, why you’re so angry all the time?”
“Don’t make me rehash this with you again. I hate it.”
“Which proves my point. A young half-blood, mocked and isolated on the frontier. You portray it as a happy childhood and coming of age, with loving parents and a carefree existence of wandering around Massachusetts.”
“Much of it was.”
“Except for the insults. Except for your parents wanting you to behave perfectly at every turn to protect yourself. Except for the white men who beat you, and the Indians who despised your impure blood. When I met you in 1755 and brought you over, I did so in part to save you from the torment. I thought the strength and protection of vampirism would heal the anger that welled inside of you because of the discrimination and pain. I was wrong. There’s something else.”
This cut too deeply. Anthony had come to the point too quickly, too bluntly. The past prejudice created the anger, true. But what continued to fuel it was loneliness. An abiding fear that he would never find someone, that those lonely days of wandering, when Thomas so desperately tried to convince himself that he was independent and carefree, would now become his eternal existence. Every time that his anger got the best of him, he knew that it was because something had evoked those feelings of seclusion. He did it to feel strong and independent because at that moment he felt anything but.
“Then it’s about my wanting to couple. Maybe I don’t want to be
alone like you are.”
“I taught you a lot, Thomas. I tried to give you every lesson that you needed. But I’m afraid that my teachings on coupling fell short.” Anthony’s authoritative voice soothed Thomas despite knowing that he would disagree with much of what he said. “I told you that vampires such as ourselves, those who lie with other men, couple for eternity. I mentioned that this is virtually the only way in which new ones of our kind come into existence. Some relationships falter over time, some vampires decide that they like being alone, but this is the general rule. I failed to explain its profound meaning, though, because I was hurt by our failure together. Somehow you decided that you had to find an eternal mate at once, to force it, and that you needed to hunt the world until this individual magically appeared.”
“That’s what happened, yes. I admit that I went on a quest. I hated the idea of going through life alone, without someone to shower with my devotion, so yes, that’s true. Xavier’s an angel, not something I sought. He fell from the sky at my feet.”
“I know what you think about Xavier,” Anthony said.
“Then help me teach him. I still need you.”
“You promised to listen. You still have a lot to learn, too much, and you can’t bring a mate into your life when you can’t answer all of the questions yourself. I wish that I could impart the knowledge to you, but there are things that only time teaches. It takes decades to evolve.”
“Why don’t you just say it,” Thomas said, fuming.
“You’re too young. It’s too soon. How could you possibly know what it means to be a vampire, to live from generation to generation, through all of the extreme changes of history? How can you claim to already understand what type of person complements you?”
“You’d understand this if you met Xavier,” he retorted, though he knew he sounded at that moment as immature as Anthony suggested.