The Vampire's Angel

by Damian Serbu

  Thomas again kissed Xavier’s head. “None of us chooses a destiny. It’s impossible. You were placed in a loving family that perhaps cared too much, but now you need to release yourself of that burden so you can experience life without guilt. Your childhood, and everyone’s, is hardly your own doing. Adulthood is much different. You’re free to choose a path that befits the man you’ve grown into. There are ways for you to live the convictions you feel for helping people while also satisfying your own needs. It doesn’t need to be indulgence or starvation.”

  Xavier wanted to follow this advice and believed it deep in his heart. But what if Thomas left him? Were there any guarantees?

  Thomas kissed his head again, then gently kissed Xavier’s cheek. Xavier fell limp in his arms, and when he whispered into his ear, shivers of passion coursed through his body.

  “I love you, Xavier. That’s the one thing I can guarantee. My heart belongs to you.”

  Thomas: The First Time

  8 September 1793 Just before midnight

  SITING IN HIS parlor, loving Xavier more than ever before now that the abbé had returned, Thomas kissed Xavier’s ear again. The smell of Xavier’s perfumed body intoxicated him. He picked Xavier up and carried him into the bedroom, placed him on a pillow, and stretched out next to him as he caressed Xavier’s cheeks and looked down at his yielding body.

  “Are you comfortable?” Thomas asked.

  Xavier wrapped his arms around Thomas.

  “What is it?” Thomas asked.

  “Do you mind if I ask you something else?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What made you?”

  “Anthony made me by having me drink his blood. That’s all I know.”

  “Were you his lover?” Xavier questioned with a worried expression.

  “That’s even more complicated,” Thomas said, trying to assuage Xavier’s fears. “For a time, perhaps, but not anymore, so don’t worry. We were incompatible as lovers.” Thomas wanted to tell Xavier the entire story of his making and life in America but now hardly seemed the time.

  Xavier smiled and kissed Thomas on the cheek. “And you can die only from the sun?” Xavier asked.

  “Or fire. Don’t forget fire. We’d burn to ash.”

  “If I join you, then, you’ll make me one? A vampire?”

  “Only if you wish,” Thomas answered, but his heart soared with hope.

  “And you wouldn’t leave me afterward?”

  Thomas embraced Xavier tightly, trying to force the fear out of him. “Never.”

  “Tell me more about this life.” Xavier played with Thomas’s hair.

  “Let’s see,” Thomas said and ran his finger along Xavier’s face. He leaned in so that their bodies touched. “You’ll have the same body as you do now, which is perfect,” Thomas said. Where Thomas had the muscles of a Greek statue, Xavier was leaner. He had no fat and some definition to his torso, but for the most part he had the boyish appearance that Thomas adored: an attractive, feminine face, soft skin, and a hint of muscles all around. “You’ll never worry about money, you’ll have powers of persuasion beyond belief, and little can harm you.”

  “There’s the one thing I can’t comprehend,” Xavier said, clinging to Thomas. “The killing.”

  “It’s not arbitrary. There’s an ethic that vampires follow that Anthony taught me. We never kill the innocent. It’s to be done to feed ourselves, and then it must be someone worthy of death who harms and even kills others.”

  “So I’ll have to kill?” Xavier asked, and there was a hint of distaste in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “But not the innocent?”

  “No, it’s forbidden.”

  Xavier fell silent as he twirled more hair in his hands.

  “I hope I can do this,” Xavier whispered.

  “Take things slowly. I won’t bring you over tonight, we’ll make sure that you’re completely convinced before we do it.”

  This ultimate sacrifice, that Thomas refused to take Xavier despite his obvious vulnerability, demonstrated to Thomas his most profound love for this man. Xavier’s eyes filled with tears as he clung to Thomas.

  “Are you sure you don’t want someone with fewer problems?”

  Thomas held Xavier even harder, again hoping to squeeze out the pain.

  “I don’t doubt this for a minute. You’re the one I love, you’re the one that my heart calls, my longing and love for you are so overwhelming that I know this is right.”

  Xavier smiled and wrapped both arms around Thomas, who watched closely as he fell toward Xavier, but his abbé gave no sign of discomfort and instead closed his eyes and yielded.

  “Be mine, Xavier.”

  “I already am.”

  Thomas kissed Xavier, who opened his mouth, their tongues intertwined with passion. Thomas slowly removed his coat, then Xavier’s and methodically stripped them of all their clothes. He kissed every inch of Xavier’s body, his silky skin feeling better than any man’s Thomas had ever seen. Xavier explored every inch of Thomas, kissing his entire body.

  Then, being cautious about his strength and proceeding ever so slowly, Thomas braced his hands on either side of Xavier’s shoulders and hovered above. Only his head bent over so that they could kiss. Without prompting or force, Xavier lifted his legs and Thomas held them up as he fell closer to Xavier, who accepted all of Thomas. His body writhed with pleasure. Thomas stared at his beloved as they made love for the first time and eventually groped for Xavier and helped him climax at the same time that Thomas erupted into Xavier.

  Nothing had ever felt better or so natural and loving as this consummation. In all his years and conquests, nothing approached the state of utter bliss that Thomas felt as he removed himself, lay next to Xavier, and cuddled. They lay like this for an hour, neither saying a thing, neither wanting the moment to end.

  When they finally moved, however, Thomas sensed that something was wrong.

  Xavier sat up slowly and put his clothes on while Thomas remained naked on the bed. Neither said a word, but the predictable tears in Xavier’s eyes did not surprise him, though they tugged at his heart.

  “It’s not you,” Xavier said.

  “I know,” Thomas answered quietly.

  “I just can’t—”

  “You don’t need to explain anything. I’ll be here when you need me.”

  Xavier cried mournfully as he returned to the bed, sat down, and grabbed Thomas’s hand. “I know you’re not a monster.” He played with Thomas’s finger and fought back the sobs. “I’m not even worried about God or sin. But the killing. I can’t—”

  Streams of tears ran down his face. Thomas felt awful and totally helpless as he tried to comfort Xavier by holding him tightly and letting the abbé rest his head on his shoulder.

  “I don’t think I can kill,” Xavier said. “Why don’t you find someone without all of my problems so that you can live the life that you want?”

  “I found you and couldn’t be happier. Why would I search for something else?”

  “Because you don’t need the grief.”

  “Nor do you,” Thomas said. “But it’s here. If you think that I can leave now and simply forget everything that I feel, then you’re more blind than I realized.”

  The pain on Xavier’s face showed that the words cut deeply.

  “I’m sorry,” Thomas said. “I didn’t mean that. I only meant that I can’t let go that easily because I love you.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have someone longing for eternal life? Someone stable? Someone emotionally secure?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Xavier asked, exasperated.

  “Because I love you.” Thomas cried, too, which he hated because his tears stained his face red.

  “I know it sounds crazy that I cling to this faith in the goodness of people. After Marcel killed my brother and with all of the murder and violence of this revolution, it seems that I should have given up on humanity long ago. But I’m
not ready to completely give up on people. And I can’t kill, even the most degenerate of people.” Xavier wept uncontrollably while Thomas waited patiently.

  “Try as you might,” Thomas said, “you won’t convince me to go away. I understand your struggle, perhaps even better than you do. But none of this changes my feelings. So you have to realize that what happens between us you must initiate.” He pulled Xavier closer and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  “Then leave it at that. There’s no reason to worry about your inability to become a vampire. Can’t we just embrace the fact that we’re together again?”

  Xavier nodded slowly. Emotionally drained, each agreed to return Xavier to the Saint-Laurent home. They walked silently, holding hands in the deserted streets until they reached the doors. Thomas escorted Xavier to his room and kissed him goodbye, which started them both crying again.

  Thomas cried most of his way home. At least Xavier got to fall asleep and forget some of this misery. Thomas had the rest of the night to think about it. Xavier had come to him, begging for their relationship, and Thomas wanted it so badly that he failed to see the snare. Through all this, Thomas had always focused on Xavier’s trying to accept his true feelings and assumed that their relationship could begin once that happened. How had he ignored the even larger problem? Xavier was too innocent to fall into a life of killing for survival. Anthony had been right again.

  Thomas: Jérémie’s Sign

  11 September 1793

  SINCE THEY HAD made love, the days passed more strangely than Thomas ever predicted. Xavier and he resumed their nightly meetings and even had sex a couple of times, yet neither mentioned the vampirism. Thomas, however, proudly wrote to Anthony that he controlled his urge for confrontation and instead allowed Xavier to dictate their relationship’s terms.

  Xavier had greeted him at the door and explained that a former parishioner had come to him for a baptism, so, despite having left the church, Xavier was doing the service in the chapel. To occupy his time while waiting, he joined Catherine in the parlor.

  She and Jérémie sat discussing what to next do with the salon, which she claimed had grown stagnant since so many avoided it for fear that Robespierre’s thugs would suddenly appear. The hospital, too, became less important because most people were simply murdered now. Not caring about the revolution, which bored him, Thomas instead observed Jérémie and Catherine. He could not believe that she had no idea about Jérémie’s utter and transparent devotion. Thomas was about to excuse himself when Jérémie suddenly shouted at Catherine.

  “You’re still taking that?” He pointed to a small vial.

  “It’s not your concern,” Catherine answered.

  “For the love of God, your independence becomes insane blindness. Why would all of us lie about it? Why would we hold hostility toward Marcel if he were a good person?”

  “The point is that it’s not your concern.”

  “Wait here,” Jérémie commanded and stormed out.

  To Thomas’s surprise, Catherine obeyed. Neither said a word, Catherine probably because she was as angry as her bright red face indicated and Thomas because it would be too awkward to do so. He really wanted to fetch Xavier but it was impossible without some clumsy exit.

  “I won’t stop,” Catherine said to no one. “It’s for my headaches. This talk about magic and potions is ridiculous nonsense.”

  Thomas remained silent, knowing the powerful spell that Marcel had her under and obeying Anthony’s rule not to interfere. It had become especially difficult to remain true to the ethic after Xavier revealed what Marcel had done to Michel. As much as Xavier had become a new man, the loss of his brother still haunted him.

  “What do you think?” Catherine startled Thomas by asking.

  Thomas fumbled for an appropriate answer when Jérémie came back with Anne, letting him off the hook.

  “You brought your ally, but she knows that I don’t believe it and I doubt there’s much either of you can say to change my mind about Marcel.”

  “I’m not here to interfere with your love life. I see the potion has hold of you and know there isn’t much I can do if you refuse to see it.”

  “Then why are you here?” Catherine asked.

  “Catherine, at least listen to her,” Jérémie said.

  “Make it quick.”

  “You’re the feistiest one I ever met.”

  “I told you that I wasn’t interested in hearing about witches and warlocks.”

  “And so you won’t. Hear me out, though.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “If it’s the headache medicine as you suggest, and not a spell, then will you do Jérémie a favor because he cares for you? You don’t have to agree with it. You can think he’s all wrong, but it’d make him feel better. What if I gave you a small amount of a counter-potion I made, nothing that’ll harm and nothing that would reverse the affects of the headache medicine. But, if we’re right, it’ll combat the spell. Will you do that for Jérémie?”

  Though Anne usually struck Thomas as blunt, she acted as a politician quite well. He wondered if this was in preparation for the item that she had promised Xavier was on its way from America.

  “Ridiculous.”

  “For Jérémie. It could prove you right, after all. What’s the harm in that?”

  Catherine glared from Anne to Jérémie, then shrugged. “I suppose.” Catherine took a pouch from Anne and listened to her instructions for taking one scoop of the powder with wine once a day.

  “Do it for a couple of weeks,” Anne said. “Then we can talk. If nothing changes by that time I’ll apologize and take it back. It may take some time. He’s a powerful one, that Marcel. You do this a couple weeks and we’ll see how you’re feeling.”

  Catherine shook her head slowly. “It won’t change a thing,” she said stubbornly.

  “Then there’s no harm in doing a favor for a friend, is there?”

  Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed. “Very well. But only because Jérémie has been a very good friend for a long time.”

  With that, Jérémie withdrew from the room with Anne.

  “Will you take the potion?” Thomas asked Catherine. “I mean, really do it and not pretend?”

  “Yes,” Catherine answered. “To prove that nothing will change. I don’t want to risk their finding out that I did nothing and then hearing again and again about some silly spell.”

  Thomas changed the subject to avoid the topic and get at his personal interests. “I don’t suppose that Xavier talked to you?” he asked.

  “No. He came back the night that you told him about the undead thing, whatever you call it, absolutely irate that I knew about you and hid it from him. I fretted that he was going back to some dogmatic religion, and for a time it seemed that he tried. Now he walks about as if nothing has changed in all these years since he met you. He acts as if you’re simply dear friends who spend time together. Don’t be embarrassed, but he did share that you had intercourse. Is that what you call it with two men? At any rate, I know the depth of intimacy you share, but beyond that I’ve no idea about his intentions. He loves you, that much is painfully obvious, but he says nothing else.”

  Catherine said this all in one breath, thus returning to her usual self. Thomas chatted with her a while longer but learned nothing new about Xavier. He finally bid her good night and went to find his abbé.

  Part XI:Conversion

  Xavier: Mayhem

  16 October 1793

  THE REVOLUTION HAD changed greatly in the last month, all for the worse, but Xavier’s feelings had altered little, as a battle raged inside his head. One side insisted that he run away with Thomas and learn to kill evil people, while the other instructed him that he could never bring himself to murder, regardless of the victim. Xavier cherished that Thomas came each night because he did love this man. Each hour together convinced Xavier more and more that the vampirism had nothing to do with it, which he f
inally confessed to Thomas. And the sex was wonderful. Xavier never imagined such utter bliss and wondered how he ever thought the celibate life of a priest could hold him forever.

  Today, to try to forget, Catherine, Maria, and he headed out to see Paris and assess the general climate. They were but a few blocks from the house when Xavier realized it was the same as the day Robespierre took over. Fear governed Paris. One after another they passed the guillotines, thankfully silent, and often saw armed thugs harassing people.

  The public nature of the executions bothered Xavier even more. They became events, not deaths, and people actually lined up to witness the latest head come flying off a body. Xavier almost vomited the day that he saw citizens picnicking in front of the guillotines and watching the murder as if it were high theatre. Hawkers plied their wares in front of the scaffolding, selling wine and biscuits to the throngs who gathered for a little “thrill.” Others placed bets on the order of execution as they watched the poor souls wait for doom.

  The three strode through the streets silently until someone said that Marie Antoinette had been executed.

  “Good Lord,” Maria gasped and crossed herself. “They’re utterly mad.”

  “Stop talking about this in public,” Xavier admonished, too late.

  “Mademoiselle Saint-Laurent, yes?” a uniformed officer asked.

  “Yes,” Catherine said.

  He tipped his hat and thanked her without saying a word.

  Xavier was alarmed, but took solace in Catherine’s calm demeanor. Though she still insisted that Anne’s counter-potion did nothing, she had agreed to continue with it for another month, and in the last few days, Xavier noticed a change in Catherine. Nothing dramatic, but before, when he had mentioned Marcel’s name, Catherine fawned and vehemently defended him. Now, she ignored all conversation regarding him. More than that, he maintained his trust that Anne had a plan to purge Marcel’s spell on Catherine but had not received the needed item from America yet.