by Damian Serbu
“Were I Christ, you’d definitely be my Peter. And you know it. What does your heart tell you? I know, I’ll say it, since it’s never been spoken before. You want me. If I kissed you right now, you’d love it. You want to make love with me. Don’t blame me for the distance that divides us. Your stupid theology created it. You hide behind nonsense. What kind of god would give you these sexual feelings and then make you suffer for a lifetime without fulfilling them? What kind of god would allow people to murder each other in the streets indiscriminately? You make me sick with your pronouncements that God disapproves of our relationship, that you can’t possibly share the love that we both feel because it’s sin. That’s ridiculous, and you know it. Especially since you admit that it’s permissible for other people. It’s some sick pleasure that you get from punishing yourself and me.”
Thomas pounded his chest, while Xavier withdrew further. He hated Thomas’s rages, hated that he felt he could never be who Thomas wanted. “Is that what you think of me?” Xavier whispered.
Thomas grabbed his own hair and yanked at it, some of it coming out in his hand. He practically ran back and forth like a caged lion ready to pounce. Next he punched his fist through the wall, then he turned his back to a motionless Xavier.
Thomas turned around, breathing heavily and crying. Xavier started at the sight. The darkness cast an odd shadow that made it appear as if streams of blood came down Thomas’s face but Thomas wiped them away before he spoke or Xavier saw them for certain.
“Xavier, forgive me. I love you. I’m just at wit’s end. I wanted to wait, to give you time and encourage you to accept yourself and not try to please everyone else. I wanted you to learn for yourself that it was possible to satisfy your personal needs. But I see that you’re so entranced by this Catholic world that it may never happen. So I’ll demand it. Come with me. Love me.”
Thomas sat next to Xavier and put his arms around the priest.
Xavier’s world spun in turmoil. Was this a test from God? Yes, once more hell visited the abbé. God was punishing him, for what else could lead to this catastrophe? Just as he contemplated a life with Thomas, the very man he loved threw an ultimatum at him.
“Xavier, do you hear me?” Thomas asked, stroking his head.
“Yes, of course, it’s just—” Xavier stopped, frozen.
“Just what?”
“I don’t know.” Xavier cried more violently than ever, his entire body heaving up and down.
“We can overcome this. Whatever bothers you, we can deal with it. Whether it’s theology, God, the church, whatever ails you.”
“You belittled my theology, and now I’m supposed to trust that you can make it better?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thomas’s veins strained out of his neck.
“I mean that I can hardly decide anything tonight.”
“Xavier, for the love of God, I still don’t understand your problem.”
“I don’t, either. But you raging at me isn’t going to solve anything.”
“Do you care about me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love me?”
“You know I do.”
Thomas stood and pounded his chest with both fists: “Do you want me?”
“Yes.” God help me, yes.
“Then let yourself go.”
Xavier trembled. Thomas, still standing, grabbed Xavier’s arms and pulled him out of his fetal position with a violent yank. He seized Xavier by the skull and jerked his head against Thomas’s chest. Xavier yielded without moving, reduced to a whimpering mess. Then Thomas reached down and kissed the top of Xavier’s head, slowly he moved down, his tongue lunging into Xavier’s ear.
Xavier was aroused against his will. He had dreamt of this for so long, yet he had envisioned love, not this strained and forced interaction. Then what excited him? Thomas bit at him, then he clutched Xavier’s crotch.
Distraught, Xavier sniffled out a few words. “Thomas, please, I can’t.”
Thomas grabbed Xavier’s head.
“Accept me.”
“Give me the time that you promised,” Xavier said.
Without warning, and too quickly and harshly for a mortal man, Thomas picked Xavier up and threw him across the bed. Xavier almost hit the ceiling as he crashed down in total pain. He lay limply.
“You can’t have it all your way anymore.” Thomas turned to leave.
“Thomas, wait, please.”
Thomas stalked back and sneered. “What, do you want to break my heart again?”
“I love you,” Xavier said lamely.
“And I love you. But not enough to suffer your selfishness.”
“I’m selfish?”
Xavier did not see Thomas raise his hand but felt the blow all too well. Thomas had backhanded him. His left eye swelled shut and blood dripped out his nose as he fell back on the mattress. Xavier lay there for a long time, his head ringing and his heart numb. He could not open one eye. He wished to die, his head a flood of confusion. He even prayed that God would take his life. He was lost. He had sabotaged his dream and turned Thomas against him.
He managed to sit up after a long while, but every move ached and blood covered the room. He cried again, which made the pain worse, especially his swollen eye. He could not even touch his face to wipe tears because it hurt too much. He dressed very slowly then slumped to the ground, holding his head, weeping in misery.
Xavier yelled into the darkness: “I love you, with my entire soul I love you. But you went too far. Now we’ll never touch again.”
Thomas: Punishment
17 July 1791
I LOVE YOU, with my entire soul I love you. But you went too far. Now we’ll never touch again.”
Thomas perched on the ledge outside Xavier’s window and heard these words that cut deep inside his soul. He wished for death. For the first time, the man with all the confidence in the world, the vampire who loved life and always got what he wanted, the man who won every battle, that man despised himself. Thomas hated himself more than he had ever hated anything. True, he had despised his rages before, hated the insecurity that had always led to them. But he had always believed that he could control it by releasing the anger. He had been wrong. Terribly wrong. He never could control it, and now it had caused him to lose everything.
How many times had Anthony warned him? His anger. It was so tragically simple. He had waited and waited for Xavier, loving him more with each passing day. He could have waited longer but this revolution interfered when the violence exploded around them. He dreaded what they might do to his priest, which magnified his impatience. What if Xavier died? So all evening he fought for control but lost the battle because of his fear.
No, it was worse than that. The problem was deeper and had nothing to do with the outside forces that just brought the problem to the surface. Impatience and anger only masked the anguish in Thomas’s soul about being alone. He was a desperate animal. Why could he never get it under control? He was a fiend, unworthy of life, unworthy of love. Loneliness was too soft a punishment. If only Anthony would rip off his head and be done with him then and there.
The events unfolded as if surreal: the shouting, the weeping, and the anger. Each thing made it worse instead of better. A hundred times Thomas almost ran out of the room to find Anthony to calm him. But his abbé called to him, so he stayed and made things worse.
When he had first grabbed Xavier, he hoped that Xavier would yield and fall lightly into his arms. Xavier’s resistance made him angrier. Again he should have left but kept hoping that Xavier would see their love.
Instead, he threw him into the air. Then he slapped him. A mortal blow would have wounded the delicate soul, but his vampiric strength probably broke bones.
So he fled in disarray.
He tried to walk away but something pulled him back, so he climbed the church and concealed himself in the shadows. First he peeked and saw Xavier, then he waited for Xavier to wake up so that he could apologize
a thousand times and even explain the vampirism.
But before he moved, Xavier had cast him out of his life forever.
It stung, but Thomas deserved it. Completely numb, he waited, quietly perched outside the window because nothing else came to him. Then Xavier left the room. It took longer than usual, but Xavier limped outside and left through the gate, violating the rule that he not travel alone because everyone left the night guard to Thomas, who followed to protect him yet remained hidden.
The blood tears flowed as Thomas reviewed again what had happened. He ached each time that Xavier stumbled, obviously in total pain and humiliation.
Xavier arrived at the Saint-Laurent home. It had taken almost two hours, and he went into an alley. Then he entered a secret door, one Thomas had never seen. Thomas slipped in behind, using his inhuman speed to conceal himself.
Xavier limped down a dimly lit hall and into a small stairwell in the basement, full of stored goods. The cellar was dark and damp but otherwise tidy. Xavier finally knocked lightly on a closed door.
When the door opened, Xavier collapsed into Maria’s arms. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t. It’s led to this. Maria, save me.”
“Good heavens. What happened?”
“Listen to me, please. I need your help. My sexual urges led to this horrible mess.”
“Xavier, what happened to you?”
“I—I was looking for Thomas, I wanted to leave with him but it’s all wrong.”
“Did he do this to you?”
“I—” Xavier stopped, paused, then continued. “Of course not. It was a mob. They knew I was a priest and attacked me. I was looking for Thomas, that’s all. God’s punished me for my sins. I must never see Thomas again or I risk greater retribution. Please help me.”
He had lied. Even after this he protected Thomas, so Thomas cried harder, more ashamed of himself than ever before. His only love cast him out yet still sheltered him from criticism when seemingly far away from his brutality. Why had he turned into a thug against that gentle being? What was his problem? If only Anthony would treat him as brutally in retaliation.
“Maria, help me. I beg you.”
“If you can’t accept yourself, then you can’t see Thomas anymore.”
“I know. I won’t.”
The words stung.
“If you won’t address your physical needs then you can’t speak about it. Forget everything that we talked about, you need to suppress the feelings entirely.”
“There’s nothing I want more,” Xavier answered.
Thomas had hated himself even as his hand struck the abbé’s face. He had heard the cheekbone crack as he struck it, and now Thomas felt impotent to do anything.
But with Xavier safe, Thomas had to leave. The sound of his voice, so lost and distant, jabbed a stake through Thomas’s heart. For the first time in his life, Thomas could not make this better. Xavier did not want to see him and that was the end of it, so Thomas crept back into the street and wandered.
Xavier’s words to Maria distressed Thomas more than ever. He had considered leaving with Thomas. But Thomas’s rage spoiled everything. As Anthony and Anne warned, he had ruined his relationship.
With his stomach an empty pit, Thomas hated himself and humanity. He despised the world that made this situation and blamed society’s prejudice for bringing him to this miserable point. True, he had much guilt, but so did everyone else. If they had allowed Xavier to love his true self, none of this would have mattered.
But that wouldn’t solve the problem in Thomas’s soul, would it? He had to get control of his anger, his loneliness and anguish. He had the obligation to change, the rest of the world wouldn’t change for him. He failed at every turn, always looking for excuses or someone else to blame. He knew that, too. So why did he continue with the behavior?
He was miserable. “Anthony...what should I do? Anthony?”
Nothing but silence.
His ire built. He stalked Paris, daring anyone to cross his path. One minute he felt under control and wanted to change, and the next he returned to anger and hatred for the world around him.
When he passed down a narrow sidewalk, barely wide enough for two people, the other man enraged him by brushing against his coat. Without thinking and in one swift motion he broke the man’s neck, then with one arm held the man up and slurped some of the blood.
He regretted the act immediately. This man had done nothing wrong. He had violated the ethic. Would the elders hunt him down? Why was he so out of control? Why didn’t they just show up to kill him?
He hurried to his flat, running faster than ever to get away from everyone before he did something else. He locked the doors and closed the curtains, alone, still irate, but at least away from people.
He was such a fool. What was wrong with him? He deserved whatever punishment Anthony inflicted. He should die. But that was too easy because life without Xavier was unthinkable. He deserved worse. He needed to suffer.
Thomas hated himself, then he hated the church, then he hated love, then he hated humanity, then he simply hated.
He tried to focus his thoughts when some woman started chattering outside his window, sending him into a complete rage. She laughed and carried on, obviously drunk, talking to every stranger that happened by. She parked herself on a nearby bench, though her volume made it seem that she sat on Thomas’s couch.
“’Ello, Monsieur. Aren’t you a handsome one.”
“Shut up, you stupid whore,” Thomas shouted out the window.
“Well, good day to you, too. What’s your problem?”
Thomas slammed the window and launched himself outside. “I said to shut your mouth, because that loud, annoying voice is driving me mad, you stupid bitch.”
“I think you better just—” she started to say.
Thomas, in no mood for negotiation, clutched her throat to kill. As he tightened his grip, something attacked him from behind. The blow to his back was harder than anything he had ever experienced. The force caused him to release the woman and fly across the street where he slammed into a brick wall. His back felt as if it broke into a thousand pieces. Thomas regained his composure and looked for his enemy, but it was not an enemy who picked the woman up.
“Leave if you know what’s good for you. Run. It’s the devil himself who’s after you.”
Anthony had her running down the street before Thomas moved. Despite his anger, Anthony’s reference to Satan sent Thomas into hysterics.
Anthony turned on him, glaring. “Yes, positively hilarious. I can’t think of anything funnier than your antics this evening. I saw you kill that man earlier and stayed away because I wanted to crack your skull open. I followed, however, and watched to make sure you could control yourself at home. But that was too much to ask, wasn’t it? How can you so flippantly disregard what I taught you? What’s wrong with you?”
Thomas sobered and returned to despair, meekly following when Anthony yanked him off the ground and pulled him up the stairs into his apartment. Anthony practically threw him onto the couch. He walked behind Thomas and slapped his head.
“You’re a barbarian.”
“Who’s acting like a barbarian, hitting me on the head?”
“Thomas, stop the games.”
“Fuck you and your rules.”
Another slap, this one harder. And, finally, Thomas reacted with sorrow instead of anger. In a matter of minutes, he retold the entire tale to Anthony. He explained how he tried to control himself but worrying about Xavier consumed him, making them fight. Then he described in morbid detail his assault, how Xavier threw Thomas out of his life and fled to Maria, which had prompted Thomas to scream for Anthony. But before he came to Thomas he witnessed the death of an innocent man and interceded only to save yet another life.
“Lecture me all you want. Tell me that I’m not worthy. Send your council against me. I’ve failed, miserably so. Kill me, please. End my loneliness. It’s the only way to protect the world.”
; “Thomas, get control of yourself,” Anthony said calmly.
“You called me the devil. So punish me. I want to suffer as much as I hurt him.”
“You’re not making sense.”
From complete fury a minute ago, Anthony became calm and rational, a kindness Thomas did not deserve. He wanted pain and torment. He hated himself. Since Anthony refused to play executioner, Thomas would do it.
He bolted across the room, picked up a sword, and hacked off his left hand. That easily and quickly, his hand lay on the ground, forever severed as a constant reminder of what he had done to Xavier. Completely crazed, this made him feel better as blood poured over everything.
“Stop it, you idiot.” Anthony sprinted over, grabbed the cut hand, took Thomas’s arm, and held the unattached hand to its former location. Vampires had amazing healing powers, but this was beyond Thomas’s imagination. Slowly, and with a great deal of pain, the hand reattached to his arm. He had function and the wound closed in minutes, though still sore. He looked at his fingers, once again wiggling them, in astonishment.
“Will you please stop this insanity? You’re not alone. Yes, you wrought it. Yes you were terribly wrong. But don’t give up on me. Or yourself.”
Thomas hugged Anthony tightly. After a long moment, he released Anthony and returned to the couch. He put his head in his hands, then whispered, “What can I do? I tried.”
“Thomas, maybe now you’ll listen to me. Slow down. Think before every action. Your patience needs to be more consistent. Think about the implications of things before you act. Can’t you see what I mean?”
“I’ve always understood. It’s just hard.”
“Well, now you’ve no choice, do you?”
“I guess not.”
Anthony took over and made him promise that he would not approach Xavier, admit that their relationship was over, and that only Xavier could rekindle it. As much as it hurt, Thomas agreed. Then he had to pledge not to interact with any humans without Anthony’s approval. Again he agreed. He desperately wanted to reform his ways and obey Anthony, but the excruciating pain remained.