Michael's Blood

by S S Bazinet

  So what should I wear tonight?

  Zegna, Finamore, Gucci and other expensive, designer garments were carefully lined up on wooden hangers. Arel didn’t leave his home very often, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look his best. He ran his hand over a handsome, hand-tailored jacket and managed a smile. After years of bulking at Michael’s suggestions to modernize, to join the rest of the world, he’d given in on a number of counts. He’d bought a computer and learned how to use it. Perhaps he’d been too enthusiastic about shopping on the Internet.

  Michael’s been right about bringing myself up to date.

  It was a consoling thought that bolstered his mood as he grabbed a pair of charcoal trousers and a pale grey, Armani button-down. He hadn’t bothered to look at himself for the past couple of weeks. He'd been too upset to do more than quickly run a brush through his hair, hardly glancing at his reflection. After he dressed, he pulled back his shoulders and approached the mirror with a little more enthusiasm.

  Wouldn’t it be amazing if I started to look like Michael?

  He didn’t expect to see himself glowing, but a more muscular, healthy body would be a sign that he was changing. All the pain he’d been going through would serve a purpose. One glance at himself was enough to crush his lofty aspirations.

  I’m pathetic!

  His face actually frightened him. It was so thin and his eyes were so lifeless that his breath got cut short. Compared to Michael’s robust frame, Arel’s body looked ready for a mortuary pick-up.

  But one person I knew always looked his best.

  His mind shifted, but not to his nightmares. He saw William again, a very young, perfectly dressed William, a man who was ready to take on the world. Tall, formidable and handing out occasional, cavalier smiles like precious gifts, his air of superiority was like a great force that drew in the fashionable crowds wherever he went. Even before he became a vampire, he sucked people in with his charm, wit and sheer arrogance.

  William was the one who first came forward and introduced himself to Arel. Over time they became drinking partners, arguing constantly. They were opposites. William was the extrovert while Arel was shy and reclusive. Even as a young man, he avoided people. He knew what they were capable of. How easy it had been for his mother and her fancy friends to ridicule him, to embarrass him repeatedly. Arel would have boycotted the social scene, but William dragged him to parties.

  Arel recalled William’s protective energy and huffed out a reluctant sigh of credit. When Arel was afraid in the world, William’s presence could act as a shield.

  No one laughed at me when I was with William.

  William might have been the elegant, young lord who attracted a flock of women, but under his fancy clothes, he maintained a ruthless attitude when it came to most of humanity. People seemed to sense that part of him, to respect it. No one messed with William, and they extended that courtesy to his friend, Arel.

  You made me think that I could trust you. But it was all a ruse, Will, a gross lie that sucked me in too!

  As soon as Arel had the thought, the warm memory of William’s friendship turned icy and sharp. Arel hadn’t seen the man in almost a century, but the pain of William’s treachery was still fresh and punishing.

  But hopefully I’ll be free soon.

  He started out of the room determined to put that part of his past behind him, like the nightmares. He needed something to focus on, to bring him into the moment. He glanced around the room in a sudden panic. What if he couldn’t do what Michael suggested? Earlier that day, he’d told the angel he was going insane. Was it true? Would he live in his nightmares forever? The idea was so terrifying that he balled his fists with determination. He hadn’t given in to the curse. He wouldn’t give into madness!

  Stay focused on what’s real . . . don’t let your mind wander. Find something that’s pleasing.

  One of his paintings caught his attention, and he quickly walked over to where it hung. He grabbed hold of the heavy, gilded frame, making himself notice how solid and tangible it felt.

  Michael insists that the here and now is an opportunity. Use it!

  Arel’s eyes moved over the canvas, slowly taking in details. He noticed the palette of color and the way the paint was layered. He even reached out and fingered the tiny ridges left by the artist’s brush. That’s when he looked at what lay beneath his touch.

  For years, the painting hung in his bedroom, but he’d ignored it completely. The overall composition was lush and inviting with sensitive, Titian influences. Two lovers were featured in a garden. They gazed at each other with desire, caught up in all the sumptuous splendor of young love. The man was dark haired and slender of build. His mouth was slightly parted and full of want. His lips were poised above the woman’s heaving breasts. She looked back at him with adoration and longing.

  “She’s so lovely.”

  Arel’s words came out in a rush, filled with his own need, those fires of passion that lived in his loins. He’d resisted those urges for so long. Yet they stirred once again, testing the restrains, with fresh longing and appetite.

  All my passion was put on hold . . . for all those years . . . and now—

  Now, the fire was smoldering again, blazing up through his limbs as he reached out to the woman in the painting. But it wasn’t just a painting if he let himself enter the garden too. With the slightest allowance on his part, he could become the lover, the man who would take the maiden from her post. He could be the one who laid her down on soft grasses. He could be the suitor who stripped off her clothes as she tore at his. He could be the devotee who brought her to a glorious state of ecstasy.

  The scene played out before Arel knew what had happened. He was carried on a great wave of hunger that couldn’t be stopped. He’d always prided himself on the principles of love, not lust. Even as a young man, he’d been able to control his needs. Yet, when the carnal flood of yearning seized hold of him now, it possessed a frightening power that he’d never known before. The fetters that held him bound were loosed in a heady moment of wildness and abandon.

  After the wave crested and fell, and his senses were somewhat restored, he was left gasping. How could he lose himself so quickly to his cravings?

  Michael’s blood is doing more than resurrecting the pain. A century of repressed sexual energy is coming up.

  It wasn’t part of the bargain. Michael hadn’t talked about Arel’s libido going into overdrive. He looked upwards, knowing Michael would feel his outrage. “Dammit! How could you leave out something like that?”

  Four

  AREL'S RUN-IN WITH his painting made him doubly intent on staying in control. He sat in his office and drummed his fingers on his desk. He had to choose his focus very carefully from now on. Even the idea of living in the moment had its dangers. After guarded reflection, he decided that going online would be his safest bet. There were so many choices that could keep him occupied. There was always shopping, but for what? His closet was full. He didn’t need anything.

  What about an old-time chat room? Get away from your own misery and spy on the world.

  He had found a site, a room that he liked. There were discussions about current movies, pop songs, and bestsellers. He didn’t engage in the conversations, but he sometimes found people’s comments interesting. Logging in, he felt a wave of panic and pulled back. There was only one other person in the chat room. “Oh hell, this isn’t good.”

  The other occupant noticed him before he had a chance to log off. “Hi, I’m Carol. It looks like we’re by ourselves tonight. Everyone else must have a life but us.”

  He swallowed hard.

  Don’t be a jerk. At least acknowledge her and then log off.

  “Hello, I’m—” He paused. He’d logged in as Mike, now he was stuck with the name. “I’m Michael, but you can call me Mike.”

  A moment later there was a response from Carol. “This is rather nice, isn’t it? The chat room is quiet. I don’t usually say very much when there are a l
ot of people around. I guess I’m a bit shy.”

  He took a deep breath.

  She’s shy. I’m petrified. Maybe we can find common ground for a few minutes.

  * * * * *

  When Arel logged out of the chat room two hours later, he remained at the computer, staring at the monitor.

  What have I done? How did I get so carried away? Why didn’t I bow out of the conversation with Carol sooner?

  The answer was obvious. It was so easy to share with her. He paused as a distant remembrance made him pale. “It was like talking to—” He stopped himself immediately. “No, don’t say her name,” he whispered.

  He sat up stiffly, trying to blank out the past. No matter what, there was one memory that he couldn’t let surface. Instead, he forced himself to focus on his recent experience in the chat room. He quickly began to go over what had been discussed. There was nothing personal exchanged, but Carol definitely knew details about the art that he collected and his taste in music. And he’d learned a lot about her. He could tell that she was sensitive and caring. He sat back in surprise when he realized that he already liked her.

  I’ll tell Michael to tape my hands together. I won’t connect with her anymore.

  And yet, he’d agreed to meet her again, late on Friday night when the room would be quiet.

  This isn’t good. I’m in the middle of Michael’s purge, and I’m talking to a stranger. So why don’t I feel more upset?

  He glanced at the monitor and remembered one of Carol’s messages. “You’re fun to talk to.” Her simple statement made him feel almost normal.

  Purge or not, she’s a diversion. It’s what I need.

  He stood up and started back to his bedroom. Halfway there, as he filled his mind with more of Carol’s messages, he almost smiled.

  * * * * *

  Carol lay in bed staring at the poster on the wall across from her. As a full time graphic artist, she played around with private projects when she had the time. The poster was one of her new designs. It would have made a nice, light hearted cover for a romance novel. The Eiffel Tower stood in the background, and a man and a woman sat in a quaint café looking dreamily into each other’s eyes.

  “Am I becoming obsessed with love?” She clutched at Charlie, her aging, teddy bear. “After all these years of being single and enjoying it, I’m starting to want someone in my life again. And sure enough, I end up meeting a man, even if it is only in a chat room.”

  She paused, holding the bear out at arm’s length. “He’s a nice person, a regular guy. No, I take that back. He seems more refined than the average Joe.”

  When she logged out of the chat room, she felt a pang of regret that left her anxious for her next meeting with Mike. But the teddy bear’s hard, black button eyes seemed to convey a different opinion. They stared back at her with a concern that she didn’t appreciate.

  “Don’t worry, old friend. I’m thirty one years old, and I can take care of myself. Besides, I know all about stalkers looking for victims. He didn’t ask about anything personal.” She pulled the bear close again. “He asked me things that were very innocent. He wanted to know about my favorite books, my favorite flower.”

  She smiled as she went over their conversation, over the comment Mike made about her love of carnations.

  “Ah, Jove’s flower,” he said.

  “Who’s Jove?” she asked.

  “Roman myths cited Jove or Jupiter as king of the gods,” he typed back. “They used the carnation as a tribute to him.”

  “I enjoy carnations because of their fragrance,” she answered. “It’s light and never pushy. Carnations are pure and gentle flowers.”

  His response was sweet. “I think that you have a unique appreciation of flowers and their true meaning. More people should be like you.”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Charlie, you know most men aren’t as quick to hand out compliments. He made me feel good about myself.”

  She’d had her questions too. Towards the end of their chat, she’d gotten bold. She asked for a general description of how Mike saw himself.

  “My body looks young enough I suppose, but I’m afraid that I’m really ancient. And you?”

  “I feel ancient too. Most women have a family at my age, but I’ve had other things to keep me busy.”

  “Are you happy? That’s what’s important. Hold on to anything that makes you smile.”

  “Yes, I’m happy.” She’d told him the truth. She was content with her life, up until now.

  She laid Charlie down on the pillow next to her and turned out the light. From the tone of their chat, she already sensed that Mike was a gentle soul. “I think that he’s like a carnation, sweet without being pushy.” She closed her eyes. “I can’t help but like him.”

  Five

  AREL LOST TRACK of time as the days and the weeks slipped by. He was still fighting to survive the unrelenting process that had taken over his life. Lying on the sofa with an ice pack on his head, he almost laughed at himself. If he had, it would have been a mocking, half crazed laugh.

  I actually begged Michael for this!

  He adjusted the icepack, trying to get a little relief from the constant pounding in his head. The pain resulted from another of his consuming nightmares. He was learning a little control. If he used all his strength and focus, he was able to find his way back to reality on his own, but the energy it took left him drained and hurting.

  Michael says to remain a bystander, but he’s never been a kid trying to live with parents who learned their child rearing skills from Attila the Hun. It’s so easy to be pulled into the past again.

  He looked at the clock. It was early morning. He had another day of battle ahead. His days weren’t much better than his nights. Plagued with temptations of the flesh, he was easily lost in fantasies if he didn’t stay guarded. He’d removed the painting from his bedroom and boxed up any sensual sculptures, but how did he remove the desire that kept surfacing? How did he box up his passions? Still, he refused to stoop to purely carnal needs.

  Love is what counts. What is passion without love?

  He pressed the icepack harder to his head. There was only one thing in his life that was working, only one thing that made getting out of bed worthwhile.

  This evening I’ll spend some time with Carol.

  He smiled, thinking about the private chat room that he’d found, a tiny oasis in cyberspace where he and Carol could meet. Their nightly conversations were his comfort, a soft blanket for his tortured, frazzled soul. When he imagined Carol on the other end of their connection, his body felt calmer. His muscles relaxed. He was able to laugh when Carol told him a joke. He was transported to a place where he forgot about who he was. He became Mike, the easy going, nice guy who made Carol happy.

  Of course there was a catch. He couldn’t keep the truth from her forever. “And by the way, Carol, did I mention that I’m a vampire? And if that’s not bad enough, I have angelic blood coursing through my body that’s probably going to leave me totally insane.”

  He had to face facts. He’d never be normal. He’d never be able to have a real relationship.

  But I can't stop thinking about her.

  Carol was becoming more that a sweet source of comfort. It was so easy to imagine himself lying with his head in her lap. Instead of the icepack, her cool, delicate hand soothed his brow. He pictured his mouth on her lips. He thought about taking her to his bed.

  Stop it! You haven’t even met her. It’s not right to think of her that way.

  He wouldn’t let Carol become an object of his lust. No matter how much need surged through his body, he wasn’t like William. No, he wanted someone to cherish, someone who could love him.

  You had that once. You don’t deserve it again.

  His fingers tightened on the icepack as he banished the image of the one woman in his past that he’d truly loved. It was the only memory that he absolutely refused to entertain. He couldn’t. It would be the final straw that sent him ov
er the edge. Still the feelings of remorse fired through his body. He threw the icepack across the room. It slammed against two, very old, very fragile, first editions. “I deserve to be damned!”

  A voice immediately rejected his statement. “No, you don’t deserve that.”

  Arel glanced over at the doorway and saw Michael coming in. A flush of embarrassment reddened his face. “How would you know? You don’t have to carry around my guilt!”

  “I know that your long standing self-judgment serves no purpose. You need to get on with your life.”

  “How can I? I’ll never be like you. I thought that if I tried hard enough maybe I could, but I feel worse than ever about myself.”

  “Is that why you’re talking to a woman online?”

  There was an instant spike in Arel’s blood pressure. The thought that Michael might interfere with his relationship with Carol, the only thing that belonged to him alone, made him go almost insane with anger. He went from a reclining position to jumping to his feet in a fast, jerky leap. His body wasn’t prepared for the sudden move. Swaying unsteadily, he had to grab for the sofa arm to stabilize himself. “I’m warning you, I don’t want to talk about her!”

  Michael remained composed and unaffected by his outburst. “The point is that you’re not taking care of your body. You need to use your energy to shore up your reserves, to get your strength back. It’s a matter of priorities.”

  “Why? Who cares?”

  “I do. I’m very concerned about you, dear friend.”

  Michael hit another button, another painful, oozing sore in Arel's psyche. “We’re not friends! Friends don’t try to destroy you. First there was William, now you!”

  “William is a different matter.”

  Arel let go of the sofa and targeted Michael with a hard, glassy stare. “You’re right. At least William gave me something that I could fight and keep at bay. But your blood is out to destroy me. And it’s because I’m not perfect like you. When it finishes with me, there’ll be nothing left.”