The Vampire's Angel

by Damian Serbu

  “And she does. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really must be off. Is everything arranged?” The banker nodded as Xavier stood and shook his hand. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said and plopped his feet onto the ground. “I altered Marcel André’s finances to reflect the fact that he is actually a member of the Saint-Laurent family. Your sister now controls all his money and property, and will own it upon his death.”

  “Thank you.” Xavier bowed and left before the man annoyed him further or detected his nervousness. He was unsure why he had done this in the first place. Catherine certainly did not need the money. It was a game, part of the new Xavier who played with life and wanted total vindication from this fiend who had killed Michel and tried to ruin his family. This little bit of additional revenge made him smile. Besides, Thomas implored him to have more fun when hunting. This was really Thomas’s influence.

  Xavier had concocted a story about Marcel suddenly discovering that he was a Saint-Laurent and coming to the family. He described a happy reunion to the banker and, to that end, claimed that Marcel had signed papers for Catherine that gave her control of his entire estate. So unlike a priest, he told himself and grinned. Xavier liked not being beholden to eternal goodness when confronted with wickedness.

  Thomas: Sweet Revenge

  24 December 1793

  THOMAS RELISHED THE smell and atmosphere of his beloved America. Despite New Orleans not being his home region, its atmosphere reflected the New World’s liberating feel and defiance of European convention, where anyone could blend easily into the people, merchants, traders, sailors, and prostitutes. Even the authorities accepted this existence because they profited from it, came from common ranks themselves, and because there was little they could do to change it even if they wanted. This city was a paradise for thieves, rapists, and all the degenerates that vampires hunt, plus they easily hid the bodies in the wilderness because people died all the time and few concerned themselves with why. Especially in New Orleans, fights happened daily and murder was expected.

  New Orleans also assisted him with Xavier. His abbé had learned everything he needed to know about vampirism, and their life together exceeded Thomas’s dreams. Xavier placated his initial concerns by adjusting to the constant murder quickly, though still with occasional hesitation. Thomas loved their contrasting styles. Killing empowered him and he enjoyed inflicting terror upon the fearless and torturing them to death, while Xavier focused on ridding the world of people who hurt others, more altruistic than Thomas’s narcissism.

  Xavier at first had seen the killing as too much of a duty, which Thomas admired, but why not fulfill the duty with more pleasure? Xavier laughed the first time Thomas suggested this, calling Thomas a pure demon. But over their first couple of nights in New Orleans he questioned Thomas about it. Thomas insisted that in killing fiends, why worry about compassion? Why not make the hunt a game? Xavier refused to prolong the killing. He despised cruelty, but he embraced the idea of a game for Thomas. Tonight, for the first time without prompting, Xavier had done so and then laughed when finished.

  Xavier had led Thomas to the waterfront and started kissing in the shadows. He had pulled Thomas by the arm into a perfect spot and explained that he wanted some place that looked concealed but that actually exposed them. The tree cover enveloped them in darkness but a bright moon reflected light through the leaves. Then Xavier smiled and instructed Thomas to kiss him. In but a minute, two sailors sneaked up, scoffed at their buggery, and demanded their money. Xavier and Thomas feigned fear, but Xavier’s next move surprised even Thomas. He cried out as a woman in distress, prompting the sailors to threaten him more if he did not shut up and obey. Then, when one went to whack him over the head, Xavier grabbed his knife, crushed his hand, and threw him to the ground. Thomas, not wanting to miss this show, just snapped the other sailor’s neck and let him drop. Xavier had ripped off the man’s pants accidentally as he squirmed away and now plunged his fangs into the man’s ass. Then he bit into his thigh and drained his blood.

  Thomas bent over laughing and looked up to see his abbé, the innocent, pure angel he had fallen in love with, in tears of laughter. They giggled even more as they sauntered toward the city, holding hands and leaning against one another.

  They continued until they passed a small lodge on the outskirts of town. Thomas had not intended to do this, but kissing Xavier agitated his sexual desire, so he dragged Xavier into the lodge, rented a room, and whisked him upstairs onto a bed where they made love. Then, satisfied, Thomas asked Xavier if he wanted to hunt some more.

  “Actually, I was wondering if tonight could be the night.”

  “It’s your decision. Are you ready?”

  “I know what I want to do to him.” A huge smile spread across Xavier’s face. “I think you’ll find this more enjoyable then how we killed those sailors.”

  Thomas grinned. “Then we’re off.”

  “Wait,” Xavier pulled Thomas back. “One more thing. I need to do this alone. I want you there, I need you there, but I want to do it myself.”

  Thomas hugged him tightly, which he did each time that he heard this doubt in his voice.

  “I understand. I do insist on watching. This man has frightening powers that can even incapacitate a vampire, but it’s your show.”

  Thomas and Xavier headed to the pier and scouted the territory where Marcel had docked his ship, which had no sign of life on board. In advanced spying this week, they had learned that Marcel’s sailors slept in town with prostitutes and only Marcel remained on the ship. With no sign of Marcel, Xavier strode aboard the ship and concealed himself behind some crates while Thomas climbed up the mast and hid inside the sail.

  They sat for over an hour, Xavier carving things into the deck with a knife and Thomas watching his lover, something he could do for hours. Not until this moment did Thomas realize that Xavier wore his clerical garb. He had asked Xavier why he lugged a bag around with them that night because it was so out of character, but Xavier had refused to tell him. He obviously had his robe with him and switched into it when he ducked behind a crate earlier.

  The silence had almost become deafening when Thomas heard steps on the gangplank. Xavier winked before putting the knife away. He leaned against a huge crate, Thomas watching carefully. He trusted Xavier, but worried about Marcel’s powers.

  Xavier simply said hello when Marcel had almost entered his cabin, causing Marcel to stumble backward and draw a dagger from the sheath at his belt. He squinted into the darkness before Xavier stepped out of the shadow.

  “Abbé?” Marcel stammered.

  “I’m pleased that you remember.”

  “I thought you were a burglar. Someone stole all my money. I have nothing left and I’m hunting for the crook. They claim I don’t even own this boat anymore. My boat.” Marcel had broken into a sweat with this monologue. “What brings you to this part of the world, anyway? Your sister rebuffed me. If you’ve come to plead forgiveness for your part in it or because she wants me back you can tell her that I’m no longer interested in her whorish ways.”

  Xavier walked calmly toward Marcel, giving no sign of his vampirism, the clerical robe making him look as he had when Thomas first spotted him in Paris.

  “What do you want, Xavier?”

  “This is awkward, but I’m afraid that we can’t let things go so easily. I know the harm you did to my family and I want you to pay for your crimes.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m warning you. It’s been a bad month. I was to sail weeks ago, but I haven’t got any money and they won’t let me move the boat. I’ll rob you just to feel better.”

  “You killed Michel,” Xavier said.

  “You may play innocent but you’re a meddler, and I don’t have room in my life for meddlers.”

  Marcel lunged at Xavier, aiming for his heart. Xavier, however, stepped aside and grabbed the knife. He also shoved Marcel against the crates, causing them to crack open as Marcel groaned
in pain, but at the sight of Xavier standing over him, he drew himself up. “I see that your bugger friend brought you over with him. Typical, probably so he could use you as his woman. Is that what you like, eternity as his little bitch?”

  It took all of Thomas’s willpower to remain in the sail. He wanted to torture this man for hours.

  “No, no. You misunderstand. I’m your executioner,” Xavier said grimly. He walked slowly toward him while Marcel laughed in his face. Marcel grabbed a leather pouch and thrust his hand into it. Thankfully, Xavier saw this and, before Marcel removed his hand, Xavier seized his shoulder and ripped Marcel’s entire arm from its socket. Blood gushed everywhere as Xavier threw the limb overboard and tossed the pouch aside, standing over Marcel, who was moaning in pain, cowering.

  “Did you think another one of your potions would conquer me? Did you think yourself invincible?” Xavier was angrier than Thomas had ever seen him. “You’ve wreaked enough havoc on this world.”

  Then Xavier lifted Marcel off the ground, snatched the dagger, and stabbed it through his remaining hand into the crate. Marcel howled. Xavier moved quickly to apply his own blood to Marcel’s shoulder to stop the bleeding and avoid too quick a death, talking the entire time to Marcel, about how much he hated him, about his anger at what he had done to Catherine, and about the fact that Xavier was the one who stole his money and took control of his empire. He even chuckled when he saw Marcel’s horrified reaction to the fact that Catherine now owned all his possessions and had left him for dead here in New Orleans. Marcel trembled and gasped for breath, still alive and hearing every word.

  Xavier next tore off Marcel’s pants, grabbed his genitals, and ripped them off. Marcel screamed, but could do nothing. Again Xavier staunched the bleeding to keep him alive, to torture him as he had tortured Catherine. For the first time, totally and completely, Xavier seemed to understand what Thomas meant about the joy of the game in killing these evil people. Thomas felt that Xavier had finally overcome his remorse for killing. Marcel continued to cry, for several hours in extreme anguish, until at last he fell into a soft whimpering. A few times he almost passed out, so Xavier wounded him anew and spoke to him of revenge. Only the approaching sunrise forced Xavier to gash Marcel across the throat so the he could bleed to death from his wounds. Xavier watched Marcel the entire time until he died, even after Thomas came down and held him tightly.

  Once over, Xavier’s first words surprised Thomas but made him smile.

  “I’m not sure that he suffered enough,” Xavier said. “I hope that Michel saw the soldierly way I defended myself and his honor.”

  Thomas burst out laughing, and though Xavier tried not to, he, too, laughed. Thomas grabbed Xavier and spun him in a circle before kissing him firmly on the lips.

  “Do you feel better, you little fiend?” Thomas asked.

  “Much.”

  “That was evil.”

  “I learned from the best,” Xavier answered and flung his arms around Thomas’s shoulders.

  Postscript Eternal Love

  31 October 2005

  XAVIER CLOSED THE manuscript and smiled. He looked around his Cleveland Heights home and then stared into the peaceful fire. It had taken but one hour to read the manuscript that Catherine, Thomas, and he had written almost two hundred years ago. Doing so still provoked the same joy and agony that it had when Xavier first added to it, as if all this happened yesterday.

  He walked to the window and looked out onto Cadwell street, where a few more partygoers parked and headed one block over to the Coventry area bars. Such a nice neighborhood. It would be a pity when he decided to go to the next location. He loved moving from place to place, but Cleveland offered such a unique experience that he had stayed for three years.

  Xavier smiled at how little his personality and values had changed, even over the two-hundred-plus years he had walked the earth. He still believed in human goodness, clinging to the notion that things could yet improve, and he killed in order to make this a reality.

  As the large grandfather clock in the entryway chimed midnight, Xavier thought about something else that had not changed in all this time. They were supposed to have a meeting at precisely 12:00. So where was he?

  Thomas had never forsaken him. They had as strong a relationship on this day as they had when Thomas transformed Xavier. Yet each time that his lover was late Xavier worried that he had finally abandoned him. He paced the floor a couple times to get rid of this feeling but it would not go away.

  His fear quickly vanished when he saw the candles leading to the second floor, new since he had sat down to read. He followed them around the corner and down the hallway toward the bedroom, where they kept a king-sized bed. Of course they never slept in it, but they did use it. The door creaked open, and there on the bed lay Thomas wrapped in a silk robe.

  “I didn’t think you’d ever get here.” Thomas moved toward Xavier. He kissed every inch of Xavier’s body as he slowly undressed him. His tender caresses sent waves of pleasure through Xavier. When both were naked, Thomas lowered Xavier onto the bed and eased on top of him. “You’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” Thomas whispered and kissed him again.

  When they finished making love both dressed hurriedly so that they could get to the bars before closing. This was the perfect life. They made love almost every night and then went to see the world, to either hunt or take in the sights. As they headed for the door, Thomas burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Xavier asked.

  “You. I can’t believe that you dug that priest’s robe out of mothballs again.”

  “I wear it every year for Halloween. I doubt anyone else has an authentic priest’s garment from the seventeen hundreds, and besides, it lures unsuspecting victims.”

  Thomas stopped at the doorway and grabbed Xavier’s shoulders.

  “My wicked little angel, my evil abbé, you know that I love you as much as ever?”

  “I love you, too, more than you can know.”

  Thomas tapped Xavier on the nose and smiled, then pushed him out the door. “Enough,” he said. “It’s Halloween and hundreds of people look for a good vampire or two to scare them to death. We mustn’t disappoint.”

  THE END

  *

  About the Author

  Damian Serbu lives in the Chicagoland area with his partner of sixteen years and two dogs. After earning a Ph.D. in history (2001), he now teaches at the collegiate level. His love for vampires – and all things horrific – fused together with his academic training to inspire this, his first novel. He also has a short story published in Volume One of Collective Fallout. You may visit him at www.DamianSerbu.com.

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