by Tal Bauer
Luca’s stomach curled.
“The Holy Father has been kind enough to feed me.” Alain saluted Luca and then knocked back the glass with a single swallow. “He believes that saint’s blood will have some kind of effect on me. Will keep me—” Alain shrugged and dropped the tumbler onto the table. “—somewhat human.”
“It could work.”
“No, it can’t work. It can’t work because there is only one way to stop a vampire from turning, and I’m beyond that point. I’ve already fed.”
Alain’s rage called to Luca’s, as it always did. He could feel his hackles rising, his temper simmering. His eyes rolled. “And what is that? What secret, special knowledge do you know that no one else does?”
“I know because I’ve done it before!” Alain leaped to his feet, bellowing, and the force of his voice nearly blew out Luca’s eardrums. “I’ve stopped a vampire from turning! I gave everything to stop it!”
“Then why couldn’t you stop yourself?”
Alain turned away. “You shouldn’t have come. It was a mistake to call you.”
“I’m here now. You didn’t want me here for this. To argue. What do you really want?”
Alain’s hands gripped the chair. Wood splintered in his grip. The crack stilled Luca’s steps.
“Why were you there?” Alain finally asked. “Why did you come with Cristoph to rescue us?”
Why indeed. Even he didn’t have an answer for that. Something between What else could I do? and The blade in my hand told me to go. “It felt right.”
“Do you still have the blade?”
Reaching into his messenger bag, Luca pulled out a thin navy box, a box he’d found in Commandant Best’s destroyed office. Alain’s blade had fit inside. He kept it there, when he wasn’t pulling it out to cradle it, or gripping the hilt to try to feel something—anything—again. He didn’t want to let the blade go, and he couldn’t say why. He held out the box and closed his eyes. “We buried Commandant Best with his blade. The ceremony was private. He’s in the Teutonic Cemetery in the Vatican.”
“You held it well.” Alain didn’t move, didn’t reach for the box. “Like you knew how.”
Sighing, Luca dropped his arm. “Alain… What is this about?”
“Do you remember nothing?”
Flashes played through his mind, moments in time he couldn’t file, memories he couldn’t identify. Scenes from another man’s life flying through his mind and vanishing before he could stop to examine each one.
Laughing with Alain, drinking cheap wine on the roof of the barracks, watching the sun set on the Vatican. Best’s watching them both in training. Shaking Lotario’s hand and squatting beside him as he learned the hallmarks of a vampire kill. Laughing with Lotario over beers, catching Alain’s gaze as what felt like the whole world spread before him, happiness rooted in the center of his soul.
Kneeling before Best and feeling a warmth suffuse his being, down to the marrow of his bones.
Walking into a darkened warehouse, the smell of salt air and dead fish and corpse rot in the air. Hearing a snarl and a roar.
Fangs sliding into the back of his neck.
Burning. Fire sliding through his body as his blood was sucked out and the vampire’s poured in, changing him.
Turning him.
Luca doubled over. Heaving, he puked rancid vomit, brandy from the night before rising and emptying on the Oriental rug. He closed his eyes. Covered his mouth with his palm. “What is this?” he breathed. His voice shook. “What are you showing me?”
“I’m not showing you anything, Luca. Your memory block is fracturing. I was afraid it had when you could wield that blade so well. When you knew how to kill a demon.”
Slashing the throat. Beheading the flame demon. Luca swallowed back the bile rising in him. He stood. “Memory block?”
Alain’s yellow eyes fell closed, all the coiled tension in his body leaking away. He moved soundlessly across the room, standing too close. Luca held his ground, staring into Alain’s vampire eyes.
“I can smell your fear,” Alain whispered.
“It’s not fear of you.” Luca swallowed. “What am I going to see?” His words splintered apart when they left his lips.
“Lotario and I blocked your memories twelve years ago.” Alain stroked one hand down the side of his face, his thumb dragging over his bottom lip. “We were knights together, Luca.” Alain’s fingers were cold, almost freezing. “Christ, we were so young. We had forever and happiness in our hands. But one night we were on a hunt. I was leading, as part of our training. We were tracking a rogue group of vampires that had wandered into Rome. They had murdered so many. The city thought there was a crazed serial killer on the loose. We knew the truth.” He took a shaking breath.
“The Roman vampire nest asked for out help to destroy these new vampires. They said the new group was going to slaughter them and take over Rome. That they were far beyond anything we’d ever seen, depraved in their violence and wickedness. That they wanted to step out of the darkness. Destroy humanity. The Roman nest couldn’t fight back alone. Not without bringing all of Rome down. We made a deal. You negotiated it with the old alpha of the nest. They gave us the information to kill them.
“We tracked the invading nest to the docks. We studied them. We built our plan, thought it was perfect. And then we went in to slay the leader and torch the nest.” Alain exhaled. “But… I walked us into a trap. They were waiting for us. They’d been playing us while we scouted them.”
“Alain—”
“They jumped you. Bit you. Tortured you. You started to turn.”
Flashes of memory played in Luca’s mind. He shook his head, trying to make sense of the swirling images. “I don’t remember any of this.”
“We got you back to the Vatican.” Alain swallowed. “We asked the Roman nest for help. They told us there is one way to stop a vampire from turning. And we did that to you.”
Luca waited as Alain’s eyes moved down his body. “We opened up your veins and bled you out. Emptied your body until your heart stopped. Once you were bled dry… we put half the blood from another human back into you.”
Dizziness stole through him. “How— Who—” His thoughts bumped into each other, clamoring to be spoken next. “Who could you take that much blood from? That would kill a man!”
Alain’s eyes closed. “Me,” he breathed. “I gave my blood to you. And yes, I nearly died. And I didn’t care. That’s our faith, isn’t it? We are made to sacrifice for our brother. For those we love. Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
Silence.
“But you still were drawn to the vampires, Luca. Even after you woke, you still wanted to go back to the nest. You were desperate to join them. Something had changed inside of you. All you wanted anymore was the vampires.”
Turning away, Alain’s teeth clenched, his lips bared, and Luca saw the curve of his fangs. “Even after the nest was burnt. Even after they were destroyed. You still were deranged. You were mad. Crazed. You tried to attack us. Said you wanted to kill us. Said you wanted to drink the city’s blood. They did something to you. God, they destroyed you—”
“So you took my memories?”
“It was the last thing we wanted.” When Alain looked back, pure sorrow bled from his soul, tragedy and grief raining from his yellow eyes. “It was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to lose you. I lo—” He clamped his lips closed. “But I had to save your life, Luca. I would have given anything to save you.”
Alain inhaled carefully. “It was a spell. I cast it. I wove all of your memories together, everything about hunting, about being a knight. Of the vampires. Every memory of us. I took them all and I buried them deep in your mind, deep in your soul. They’re hidden away with a word lock, Luca, words I knew I could never say to you again after that moment.” One bloody tear pushed free from the corner of Alain’s eye, starting a slow trek down his pale cheek.
“W
hat words?”
“When I say them, you’ll remember everything. Are you ready for that?” Alain barely breathed his words, his voice so soft Luca strained to hear him.
Was he? Alain spoke of a Luca he didn’t know. Part of his life wasn’t his own. What would he find, if he opened this door? Sleepless nights and dark nightmares made of memories and images he couldn’t place flickered through his thoughts.
He nodded, short jerks of his head up and down. Alain smiled, thin and weak like it pained him. He stood before Luca, and both hands cradled his face too tenderly. He bit his lip, the tips of his fangs piercing his red skin. One thumb brushed over Luca’s lips. Alain breathed out, the warm air caressing him. “Luca,” he started. His voice shook. “I love you.”
It all came crashing back.
A flood of recollection, of understanding.
His life as a knight, as a hunter. Himself, happy.
In love with Alain.
Their life together, meeting in the Guard. Like lightning, they’d been drawn together from the first moment they’d met. Inseparable, they’d turned from best friends to lovers quickly. They’d been the talk of the Guard, the gossip of the Vatican.
Afternoons and midnights and sunrises and sunsets in the gardens, on the rooftops of the barracks, in each other’s beds. Making love, dreaming of the future. Fantasies of their future as knights, as leaders of the Swiss Guard. All the good they would do together. Endless nights wrapped in each other’s arms, kiss bruises and sweat all over their bodies.
Father Lotario’s gruff voice, his hand squeezing Luca’s shoulder, his warm smile filling the empty spaces Luca’s family had left. For the first time in years, he’d felt what it was like to have a father again.
They’d been happy, deliriously, joyously happy.
The hunt against the vampires. The pain of the bite. Of the turn.
Desperation, a seemingly endless need to get back to the nest. To complete the turn, to join them and become one with the darkness. He’d wanted damnation, wanted to rend his soul to darkness and eternity. He wanted to bathe in blood, and he’d wanted to start with Alain’s.
Alain’s pleas, his endless prayers to God to save Luca’s soul, to save his life.
The last memory he had was of Alain kissing his lips and laying him down on their bed, tears running down his cheeks as he promised that he would save him, no matter what.
Luca tore away from Alain. He stumbled and collapsed, falling to his hands and knees. “You stole my life!” Alain was silent. The bloody tear shivered before it fell from his jaw to the carpet. “You took everything! You tore us apart!”
“The Luca I was in love with ceased to exist that day. You died. Everything that you were, everything that we were, it all died. I lost you.”
He glared over his shoulder, his vision blurred by a burst of rage. “How could you do this to me? To us?”
“I would have done anything to save your life, and this was the only way to do it.” Yellow eyes met his. Another bloody tear slipped from the corner of Alain’s eye. “And I was the one who had to live with it. You didn’t remember a single thing about me. You didn’t remember anything. When you met me again, instead of love, you hated me. This choice has always been my cross to bear.”
Luca fell to his ass, landing in a sprawl. “I remember now,” he breathed. “Being with you. Like it was yesterday.”
“I can take it all away. Do you want me to lock the memories away again? You can go back to the way it was. You don’t have to remember anything.”
Did he want to forget? Did he want to bury the memory of Alain’s love again, the feel of his skin, the taste of his kiss? Forget their dreams, the happiness they’d had? The wild nights, the laughter, and the hope, God, the hope that had burned through them, had made them feel so alive.
His bones ached as he pushed to his feet. His body was old, older than he’d been when he’d fallen in love with Alain. Memories were out of sequence, his mind living in the past as his older body tried to catch up.
Three steps took him to Alain, took him to yellow eyes and bloody tears. Alain held his ground, waiting for Luca’s rage, his wrath, ready to take whatever Luca was going to throw at him like he had taken everything else for the past twelve years, silent and sentinel.
“Is there—” Luca’s voice cracked. “Can we—” He shook his head. Squeezed his eyes shut. “Is there any way that—” His throat clenched. He gave up speaking.
He grabbed Alain behind the neck and pulled him close.
Memories flared as his lips closed over Alain’s. Every kiss they’d ever shared burned through him, thousands of memories sparking in his mind. Alain’s lips were warm, slightly chapped like they always had been. He sighed into the kiss, drawing closer to the love of his life.
The tip of a fang sliced his lip, cutting him. His blood welled, spilling onto Alain’s tongue.
Alain flew back, shoving him away.
He stared at Alain, motionless.
Alain shook his head. “We can’t.”
“I don’t care about what you are.” He wiped his torn lip on the back of his hand, smearing his blood over his skin. Everything in him begged to rush to Alain, to fall into his arms and to never, ever let go. “I don’t care, Alain. I love you.” His voice shook. “Please.”
“Luca…”
“I don’t care what you are. I don’t.”
“Luca, twelve years is a long time.”
Luca’s heart stuttered. His breath shorted, his lungs collapsing.
Twelve years of raging at Alain, of them rubbing each other the wrong way. Of shouting matches that shook the walls, of punching out his window when he just wanted to throttle Alain. Of a scratch under his skin, something he couldn’t reach.
He thought it had been hatred.
“It’s been a long time,” Alain breathed.
“It feels like yesterday to me.” His vision blurred. He tried to blink through it. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks.
“It’s been a long time,” Alain repeated, “for me.”
Cristoph. Stubborn, independent Cristoph, insisting on being exactly who he was. He’d stood up to Luca, he’d stood up to Alain, and, despite everything against him, he’d become a knight. He’d become Alain’s lover. He’d done the hard work of getting through Alain’s defenses, his isolation. He’d been there for Alain through the rising. And he was still waiting for Alain, living in his apartment.
Of course he was the man Alain would fall for, would love.
“And you’ve moved on.” He managed to say it without his voice shattering to pieces. “You love someone else.”
Alain looked down.
Fast blinks pushed more tears down his cheeks. He sniffed. Tried to swallow his heart. Tried to stop it from breaking. “You— You should reach out to him. He’s worried about you.” Luca nodded, trying to tell himself he was doing the right thing. He was, he was. They loved each other. “Cristoph, he’s… He’s a good man. I know I was hard on him—” He gritted his teeth, groaning, trying to get through the next moment. “He loves you so damn much.”
A quiet exhale was the only reaction. Luca sniffed again, angry snot and his wet swallows the only sounds in the room.
“I can’t be with him like this,” Alain whispered. “I’m dangerous. I’m a monster.” His face twisted. “Why would he even want me now?”
Luca smiled, and it was agonizing, but he did it anyway. “Alain, he loves you. He wants you any way he can have you. And, I know you. I know you would never hurt the ones you love.” Another gulp, like trying to swallow shards of glass. “For what it’s worth… I wouldn’t turn you away for anything. Definitely not for this. He won’t either.”
Yellow eyes lifted. Met his gaze. “I am sorry, Luca.”
He stared at his blood, smeared on Alain’s lips. “I’ll survive. It’s what I do, right?”
* * *
The days continued uninterrupted, unchanging, until Cristoph was summoned to Luca’s office.
The Vatican was still empty, the Holy Father and most of the guard winding down the summer at Castel Gandolfo. He padded down the empty garrison offices to the commandant’s office and leaned against the doorframe.
“Hey.”
Luca sent him a quick, unreadable look, too many emotions buried with each other. He looked away. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hasse.”
“You called?” Actually, it had been an email, a one-sentence request.
Luca nodded. His gaze stayed locked on his desk, and he seemed to fidget, straightening the edges of his notepad, lining his pens in perfect rows. One hand dragged a folder across his immaculate desktop, almost as if he was holding it down.
“I’ve heard from His Holiness,” Luca began, clearing his throat. “The ranks of the knights need to be filled again.”
The words sank heavy in the afternoon heat, settling like grave dirt. “The rank of one has to be refilled?” Cristoph didn’t want to hear it confirmed, hear that Alain wasn’t returning. He gave you his sword. He knew. He knew he wasn’t coming back.
“Yes. We need a replacement.” Finally, Luca looked up. He couldn’t hold Cristoph’s gaze. He looked instead past him, over his shoulder. Cristoph spied a cut on his lip, a scab that hadn’t healed. “You’ve been studying Ala—Sergeant Autenburg’s work?”
He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t form the words. It was always going to end this way. He looked away. “Where is Lotario?”
“I was told he’s recuperating at the monastery where he trained.” Cristoph watched Luca bite the inside of his lip. “You’re the man for this, Cristoph. We need you.”
He closed his eyes. Exhaled. And nodded.
Luca cleared his throat and flipped open the file folder. “Effective immediately, Mr. Hasse, you are promoted to the rank of corporal and you are assigned to the Special Projects division. You will continue to study the material of the Secret Order of the Resurrected Knights Templar and take up the duties of said knights, including defense and protection of the territories of Rome and the Vatican from all dark, etheric, and supernatural creatures and events.” Luca bit his lip, worrying the scab with his teeth. He blinked when he met Cristoph’s gaze. “Do you accept?”