by Damian Serbu
“Why do you have to take things that far?” she asked.
“Because he kills people.”
“But do you think he’s evil?” she asked.
Xavier hesitated, then started to reply but withdrew before saying, “I don’t know.”
“Then don’t condemn him so easily. Take things slowly. Allow him to explain things and make your own judgments after giving it some thought. Now’s the time to see the world through different eyes.”
Xavier sat up in the chair and fumbled with his hands nervously. Catherine worried anew about him. The drinking, the lost expression, and the condemnation of Thomas concerned her. He talked only about cursory matters, yet a deeper pain obviously coursed through him. Earlier that day he had all but intended to run away with Thomas, and now he refused to see him as anything but a monster.
Xavier sat and sobbed, then, without a word, left the room. Catherine followed, and when he closed the door to his room she instructed a guard not to let him leave the house. Maybe he needed to sleep, or perhaps the morning would bring him to his senses. To calm her nerves, Catherine hurried to her quarters and plopped Marcel’s medication into her wine and watched the soothing fizzle before drinking it all in one swallow.
Xavier: The Zealot
1 August 1793
AFTER ALMOST BEING killed by an angry group of men, then getting rescued by a vampire who turned out to be his lover, Xavier stayed in his room the entire next day. It took all of his energy just to eat after awaking at noon. He ordered some wine and drank by himself, hoping that the spinning of the room would provide the answers he sought.
But nothing came to him or made sense.
He loved Thomas, of that he was sure. His heart ached too much for it not to be genuine. But vampirism? This was the stuff of legend! He first hoped that it was a bad dream, but somehow it was true, and Xavier had to decide if it were evil or good, or something completely different.
At least the wine numbed him, so he drank more. He recalled all that Anne had told him when she worked so hard to sober him before, and he had agreed, but this was so beyond comprehension that the wine became a necessity.
He loved Thomas, which meant that he loved a killer. That made two of them in the family, as Catherine still clung to her engagement to Marcel, their brother’s murderer.
This thought rocked Xavier out of bed and propelled him to dress. He straightened his hair, poured out the rest of the wine, and headed down the hall. Before, though he struggled with inner emotions, God always provided answers. Xavier’s wrestling with theology offered solace in troubled times. Had he been wrong to give up on his faith? Only one person could help him.
Maria sat in the hospital, busily working with the patients. Xavier stood in the doorway until she finished and then moved so that she would see him.
“What do you want?”
Xavier had forgotten their fight. “Can we talk?” he asked meekly.
“I suppose,” she said and led them down the hall into a small room of medical supplies. “What?”
“Maria, please. I know that you’re angry, but I need to tell you something—I need your advice. I need our friendship now more than ever.”
Maria plopped down on a wooden chair and commanded him to sit.
Thankful for her counsel, Xavier ignored the strange circumstances and launched into his tale, from the moment he left the house, through the ringing of the bells, to Thomas saving him and finally to the fact that Thomas lived beyond the grave. He poured out his heart, cried as if the tears would never end, questioned his former decision, and described how lost he felt.
“What do I do?” Xavier finally asked.
“This is what I tried to warn you about.”
“I know, but what do I do now?”
“Maybe you should leave again. We can’t risk him finding you. He’ll try to get you back. You can’t have any contact with him. With one bite he could bring you to Satanism forever.”
“Where will I go? What will I do? I left the church to go with Thomas, remember? What’s left?”
“God will take you back. There’s still room for you in His service. We can work together again.”
“Maria, it’s not that simple for me. I left for many reasons. It wasn’t all about Thomas. I might have been wrong about what I wanted but the Church won’t do what I need it to do for me any longer.”
“Think about those innocent souls murdered in that church yesterday because they wanted to ring the bells. Maybe if you had stayed in the church they would’ve believed your theology and not tried to ward off spirits like that.”
Xavier contemplated, his mind a jumble of confusion. He had forsaken the church and had struggled for so long with God. Was this a sign? “Maybe I am supposed to serve the people again.”
“Yes, you are. You can help people fight the devil.”
Xavier bit his tongue and ignored Maria’s warped view of Satan.
“Xavier, I’m so excited that you’re back. You were under Satan’s evil influence. You were under the tutelage of Beelzebub. He sent Thomas to you. How else can you explain it? But you can conquer him.” With that, Maria bustled back to the patients, leaving Xavier bewildered. He wanted to feel exhilarated or relieved that this was the right decision, but Maria’s comments caused hesitation. She had commandeered his struggle into a shared problem, switching the conversation to what they would do.
More than this, her theology pestered him. He never accepted that Satan lurked around and caused evil. Humans did so on their own.
Xavier wondered if Satan even existed. Which brought him to Thomas. Had he condemned Thomas too quickly, as Maria did, because of his own fear? Was he right in returning to the people? Or was this another betrayal of himself?
Catherine: Terror
12 August 1793 Evening
CATHERINE HEARD IT first a week ago, dismissing it as a gross exaggeration, but today’s events proved it. Someone described Robespierre’s rule as a reign of terror. On her way to see Thomas, Catherine tried to forget politics by listening to the horses’ hooves on the cobbled streets. Since Xavier had fled Thomas once again, no one had heard from Thomas, so Catherine went to check on him. The ride gave her too much time to think as the horses forced their way through the mob, though no one threatened because Robespierre’s minions lurked on every corner.
Her visit to Robespierre earlier that afternoon had shaken and convinced her that it was terror. He and his armies used the guillotine frequently and otherwise imprisoned vast numbers of people, especially if they resisted conscription into his army. His government also banned Roman Catholicism in France. When peasants who otherwise cared little about the revolution protested the closing of their churches, he arrested them and often killed to make his point. Recalcitrant priests were hunted and murdered. Merely professing an affinity for the Church brought these men of the cloth death. So it hardly surprised Catherine when she received notice to appear before him on this day on charges that she operated a counterrevolutionary salon.
Catherine dutifully went to him, surprised to find the man himself presiding over his kangaroo court. To her advantage, Robespierre was a man susceptible to charm and flirting. Catherine hated the treatment afforded women, but on this occasion she used it to her advantage. She took a double dose of Marcel’s medicine that morning because it aroused her into seduction. She was deferential toward Robespierre, smiled a lot, and giggled at everything he said. Within seconds, she won the beast over and he dismissed the case without even hearing her testimony.
As the horses rounded a corner too quickly, her latest letter from Marcel dropped out of her bag. She snatched it off the carriage floor and read again his request for funds and control over the Saint-Laurent American interests. He promised to make them thousands. But she could not accomplish such a major transaction without Xavier’s signature, and he still refused.
“Marcel is dangerous,” Xavier told her again that morning. “Be patient and you’ll learn why. If I don�
��t prove this soon, I’ll sign everything you want me to.”
The bottom of Marcel’s letter stressed again how she had to continue taking her medication or the headaches would return, fiercer than ever. She wished that he would stop pestering her about it and just believe that she never missed a dose.
At Thomas’s flat, Catherine was surprised when Thomas greeted her, explaining that he sent the help home early as a reward for their diligent service to him. He kissed her cheek lightly and ushered her inside. Catherine had expected anger or a reluctance to see her, but he was the old Thomas with no trace of bitterness.
“I suppose you came because of your brother?” Thomas asked politely.
“Perhaps. I mean, yes. I worried about you, too, though. I came—” she stopped. “I came because I was worried about you. Xavier had been planning to find you for weeks, since he returned to Paris he has talked about nothing else. But the vampirism, as we predicted, frightened him to death. He’s no idea what to make of it. I came to see that you were coping and to plead for your patience. I don’t think that all is lost between you and my brother.”
Thomas cocked his head and smiled warmly. “Catherine, there are things that you need to know. I didn’t come to the house at first because Xavier needed time to adjust, and then after he found out about me I hardly wanted to intrude. Xavier has to make his own decisions about us. I love him as much as always but can’t force him into this. I’m waiting, with a heavy and worried heart, but that’s all I can do.”
“But you’re doing well?” Catherine asked.
“Yes, I’m fine. I accepted that it’s out of my hands, which was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”
“He’ll come to you. I really believe it.”
Catherine left, feeling better about Thomas than she had since confirming his attack on Xavier. His actions demonstrated a new demeanor and patience. As she rode home in her carriage, she thought that perhaps she would give him the second chance he wanted. After all, he had not had another misstep since then, and she could still get rid of him with just a word to Marcel.
Thomas: Calming Effect
25 August 1793
THE NOTE AWAITED Thomas when he woke: “Against my better judgment, I have returned to this vile city. All for you, of course. I will come this evening. Anthony.”
Thomas’s heart leapt for joy. Though his patience with Xavier remained, he had been getting lonely during these past couple of weeks while he waited. He checked on Xavier from afar and fed when absolutely necessary, but otherwise stayed to himself. Even watching humans, usually an entertaining pastime, held no allure. Typically, Anthony entered dramatically instead of knocking. Thomas watched the Seine out his window when someone dropped from the roof, burst through his open window, and tackled Thomas to the floor, where he pinned him to the ground. Thomas shoved Anthony off as he got a mouth full of blond hair.
“You can’t surprise someone if you warn them in advance with a note.”
“How else could I have entered? It’s the only way I can wrap my arms around those shoulders of yours.”
“So you finally decided to acknowledge my presence again?”
“Don’t patronize me. I’ll have you know that someone else saw your little outburst at that poor sailor and was incensed. He tried to bring it before the elders but I convinced them that there was nothing to worry about. Besides, I pointed out that you had not even harmed him. They ordered me to keep a close eye on you.”
“Do they also know that I haven’t defied their rules since?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe I’ve changed?”
“Well.” Anthony arched an eyebrow. “Will you forgive me if I reserve judgment until later?”
Thomas grinned. “I don’t blame you. I’ll have you know that Anne came to me, angry, after she and Xavier returned. She warned me about my temper and spying on her. She threatened me, and she doesn’t do that to anyone. But even she admitted that she didn’t feel the same anger within me when we talked.”
“Was this before or after the sailor?”
“After, of course. I hadn’t talked to her or anyone when I went to the sailor.”
Anthony nodded and played with the curtain sash. “What else?”
“Xavier stays in the house all day and has yet to come to me or anyone. He even refuses to discuss it with Catherine. He talks incessantly to that rat of a nun, Maria, and they work together, but Catherine says that he cries a lot when alone and I’m not at all convinced that he’s sure of his course. I think that he wants to believe he can return to his former self but that his heart yearns for something else.”
“And what about you?” Anthony asked. “How are you?”
For the first time in days, tears returned to release the pain. Anthony moved behind and hugged him tightly, then pulled him by the hand and sat on the couch as Thomas cried quietly.
“It hurts. I never knew how much emotions could hurt.”
“And yet you’re the one always reminding me about our human emotions.”
Thomas smiled sheepishly. “I know, I know. So I love him from afar, but I don’t threaten the sacred ethic. I’m not interfering.”
“I see that, but allow me one observation.”
“You’ll give it with or without my permission, so do so.”
Anthony laughed and punched Thomas lightly on the arm. “I still worry that you’re too insistent that Xavier become your mate. As a vampire, you’ll always be confronted with human endeavors and feel emotions for humans, which is fine. But when they stop reciprocating or it becomes dangerous, you need to be able to leave it behind and forget about them, even if they still walk the earth. It hurts, until you realize one day that they’ve been dead for decades. Humanity can’t consume you like this if you want to survive.”
“I don’t understand something. You’ve admitted that you also search for a lifemate and only content yourself with affairs as a matter of immediate need. But if we follow what you just said, how would it ever be possible to find a mate? How could you know that someone were right for you if you’ve kept him at a distance the entire time?”
“I don’t have easy answers. You have to get better at sensing whether or not it can work. Assess someone from afar before you approach. You talked to Xavier before you knew a thing about him other than that he was a priest, which should have been warning enough. Let me put it another way,” Anthony said softly, grabbing Thomas’s hand. “I admit that I came to you incorrectly, too. I was mesmerized by your beauty and charm. I wanted you as my companion because you were warm, funny, and full of energy. I made the mistake of not watching you first. I’d have seen that vampirism would present no obstacle and that you’d embrace it. But I also would’ve noticed your...tendencies, shall we say. I’d have seen that you like to dominate in every relationship, whether a five-minute conversation or a lifetime friendship. This isn’t to say that I regret bringing you over, but it’s a clear example of how easy it becomes to violate the ethic when we don’t take our time with making decisions.
“I’m not convinced that Xavier has stamina to be a vampire. He’s delicate, nurturing, and perhaps the most sensitive man I’ve ever seen. It’s easy to see why you fell in love with him, but it’s also easy to see that there was no easy way for him to accept vampirism.”
“I understand.” Thomas nodded and put his hands together. “I do. But you, and most others, miss what’s underneath Xavier that he seldom lets out. There’s a rougher side to him and a callused soul that’s been hurt and doesn’t trust people as much as the outer person would have you believe. He understands this world on a more complex level than anyone I know. Even you, who’s lived for hundreds of years, can’t approach his quick insight. I’m not only in love with the soft, meek Xavier that everyone sees. I’m also in love with the man’s contradictions, his combination of compassion and reality, his faith in people and yet an underlying distrust. He’s so many things that you can’t see. That’s why I know he can d
o this, even the vampirism and killing, if given time.”
“Is this the truth or blind love?” Anthony asked.
“Both. And that’s why I love him so much.”
“Fine, but allow me a test before I respond further,” Anthony answered. He stood and yanked Thomas out of the chair. As usual when Anthony went on a mission, Thomas followed quietly without knowing their purpose until they arrived where Anthony wanted to go. This time, they ended their journey outside the Saint-Laurent home.
“So, how do you feel?” Anthony asked.
“What are you talking about? What’s this mysterious test?”
“Just answer my questions. Here, I’ll make it more direct. How do you feel about the Catholic Church?”
Thomas launched into a diatribe about how many people the church injured, about how it blinded Xavier or at least fed on his guilt, and called it a group of power-hungry men who lorded over people with their alleged superiority. Thomas was beginning to attack the pope when Xavier appeared at the window, looking into the darkness.
Thomas hushed and stared at Xavier, watching his lovely eyes gleam in the candlelight from within the house and his hand move the curtain. He stayed but a second yet heartened Thomas, who forgot what Anthony and he had been discussing. “Where were we?” Thomas asked.
“Going to a seedier establishment to watch the clientele and talk,” Anthony answered. “You may devote all of your sexual energy to Xavier, but I have needs outside of you two. Come on.”
Thomas laughed and they raced again through Paris. When they arrived at another nameless brothel, they took a seat in the corner as Thomas observed Anthony take in the men around them. He pointed out a young man who sat alone, watching the room in awe.
“Can you imagine going to bed with him?” Anthony asked.
“No, I can’t,” Thomas answered. “Will you explain what mission we went on?”