by Damian Serbu
Xavier marveled that word of his decision spread so quickly, and though he had left the church, he still desperately loved these people and would honor whatever request they had.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We just—well, we need someone to ring the bells.”
The group fell silent and cast their eyes to the ground, as if they knew they implored him to do something he disdained. The peasants had long believed that ringing church bells warded off evil spirits. When Xavier had first arrived in his parish, they instructed that all previous priests rang the bells once a week and expected him to do the same, but he shunned the practice and had refused from the first. Though some feared he was wrong, they had acquiesced and that was the last he heard of it until tonight.
“You know how I feel about this.”
“Abbé, how can you call it superstition? Look what’s occurred since we stopped.”
“God doesn’t work that way.”
The elderly woman started weeping.
“I’ll do it, but where?”
As they all smiled with delight, the elderly woman recited the rosary and cried out with joy. Xavier hurried to join them after grabbing his cloak and repeated his question.
“A chapel near the edge of town is abandoned. Come,” the carpenter said.
Xavier followed as the throng moved into the street and hurried along, a couple of times changing directions to avoid angry mobs that blockaded the streets, and wound their way through Paris at a brisk pace. They arrived together at a small, abandoned church unknown to Xavier at the edge of Paris, away from residences and near a row of workshops. The darkened, broken windows gave it a foreboding feel, but they pushed forward and soon stood inside the sanctuary.
Its inside mirrored the outside: black, dirty, and desolate. Xavier protested but their earnest faces urged him on, so he slowly started up the bell tower alone, hearing each step creak, his own breathing sounding louder than usual. His flock stayed behind, but he heard them reciting the rosary. Xavier would ring these bells but a few times and run back home. This was hardly a night to assert the Catholic Church’s authority.
Near the top, Xavier almost toppled backward when cobwebs hit his face. He rushed into action and grappled for the rope, barely able to see because just a glint of moonlight came from small openings only big enough to release the bell sounds.
Dong. Dong. Dong.
The chiming gongs suddenly filled the quiet night. Xavier rang them for but a minute and then descended the stairs, frightened out of his mind. He neared the bottom but heard a commotion and stopped when he heard cries of pain and the pounding of fists. Xavier ran back up the narrow passage, but not before seeing five or six men beating even the poor old woman.
“There he is!” Two men came after Xavier. “You a priest? Are you an agent of Rome? You’re in violation of the laws of Robespierre.”
Xavier was trapped. They blocked his only exit. He thought of jumping, but the windows were too small and his pursuers too close behind, so he turned around to plead for his life when the first burly man reached the top. Looking at the dark eyes and menacing face, Xavier changed his mind and tried to run around the large bell toward the stairs, but the two men had each gone a different direction and had him surrounded. Instead of fighting, Xavier prayed and shook uncontrollably, certain that death had found him at last.
Then, without warning, something inhuman crashed through the ceiling, an impossible yet miraculous answer to Xavier’s prayer—divine intervention. Just before one of the thugs was able to hit Xavier over the head with a board, the roof caved in and some force threw the man across the room. As he thudded against the wall, the savior, a man, snapped the neck of the other man. Before the first regained his senses, this force smashed his skull on the bell, causing Xavier to wince as his brains splattered about. This took just seconds, but Xavier heard other men charging up the stairs.
Before Xavier had time to worry, his savior grabbed him by the waist, leaped onto the roof, then onto the roof of the nearest building. They sped through Paris in an instant, away from the danger and farther and farther from humanity.
Though it took a while, Xavier slowly figured out what had happened. He had buried his head in the chest of this man and clung tightly, too afraid to look, relieved at being saved and terrified at the stranger’s strength and quickness. Xavier fought to rationalize but this was extraordinary, not humanly possible. How could someone crash through a roof four stories high? How could one man fend off those muscular attackers?
Frightened but curious, after they had arrived at some unknown building and entered a room unfamiliar to Xavier, the man gently laid him on a bed. Xavier glanced up. When he saw the man sitting near the bottom of the bed, Xavier nearly burst into tears.
He had wondered before about Thomas’s nature, the first time when Thomas fended off the would-be robber in the garden. Why else had his love only come at night? Why else the mystery about his life? And there was the night that he had assaulted Xavier. The emotional pain had blinded Xavier from the reality of broken bones in his face. With the mere slap of his hand, with no more effort than it took to swat a mouse across the room, Thomas had inflicted that damage. Xavier had blocked all this from his mind, ridiculous to think that the supernatural existed. But tonight proved otherwise.
Xavier had so desperately wanted to find Thomas, and here was the man of his dreams— protecting and nurturing him as he desired. Yet he drew his knees to his chin and hugged them for protection and stared at Thomas with exhilaration and fear.
“Xavier, I never meant for you to find out like this. I was waiting for you, but they—”
Tears rolled down Xavier’s face as he searched for a reaction.
Thomas: First Kiss
29 July 1793 11:58 p.m.
THOMAS WANTED TO smother Xavier in a hug and protect him from the world, dreading what might have happened had he not been late this evening. He usually rose and went immediately to see Xavier, but an urgent financial matter demanded his attention, and a messenger waited to take this packet to a departing ship. So Thomas left late and arrived just as Xavier led a small contingent away, otherwise Thomas might have visited and already been gone for the night. Instead, he followed.
Though concerned, he never imagined such brutality from a small band of idiots, shouting that they represented Robespierre and attacking everyone simply for believing that the Catholic Church bells protected them. Thomas had to act when they came after Xavier, so he sprang into action without considering the consequences.
Running through Paris as Xavier desperately clung to him was exhilarating. To touch him, to smell his soft hair, it was everything that Thomas wanted. He feared only the aftermath when they were safely in his rooms, knowing this had revealed his vampirism. Unnerved by the silence, Thomas spoke first.
“Xavier, I never meant for you to find out like this. I was waiting for you but they attacked. I had to get you out of there. I won’t harm you.” Thomas hoped that Xavier could believe him, though he would understand if Xavier shied away with that the reminder. Xavier’s crying pained Thomas. Was he miserable, happy, or just confused? “I wanted to tell you since we met, but I was always afraid that you’d hate me. I’m lost.”
Xavier chuckled, though he still clutched his knees. “You never did know how to handle delicate moments.”
“I hate thinking that I hurt you.”
Xavier wiped away his tears while Thomas waited, then he released his legs, sat up, and moved closer to Thomas, looking at him intently with a hint of their former love and perhaps fear. “What are you?”
“Will you believe? It sounds fanciful.”
“I’d believe anything at this point. You couldn’t have saved me otherwise.”
“Despite everything that the Enlightenment revealed, despite the Catholic Church’s teachings, there are unexplained things in this world that people won’t accept as either possibilities or natural. I don’t have all of the answers. I know very little. But I
can never die. Fire and the sun alone can doom me, but otherwise I’ll walk the earth forever.”
“A vampire?” Xavier’s eyes widened. “But that’s impossible.”
“You have to believe me. There’s nothing evil about it. I’m not an agent of the devil. I’m still the man you fell in love with.”
Xavier moved back and leaned against the wall, drawing his feet up again and hugging himself. “I love you. I don’t suppose that this is the time to say it, and I don’t even know what it means any more. But after I left with Anne, I knew that I’d never be able to return to the church because I’d fallen madly in love. I came back to Paris for you because I wanted to hide in your arms for real this time. I wanted your protection and to shower you with the love I’d always been afraid to reveal.”
Now Thomas wept. He had waited for too long to hear these words.
“If I’d been honest with you from the beginning, if I could have been, I’d have told you so differently. The irony was that the more I got to know you, and the deeper that my love became, the more that I tried to hide my nature, the more I dreaded your finding out. You were so wedded to the church.” Thomas waited for Xavier to respond as his love rocked back and forth, his eyes glistening with tears.
“I know I was wrong to keep it from you,” Thomas said. “I’m ashamed of a lot that I did, especially when I—”
“No, Thomas, don’t mention it. Eventually we’ll have to discuss it, but not yet. Not now. We don’t need to revisit the issue.”
“I punish myself every day for what I did.”
“Anne told me to be careful. I only need to know that you won’t do it again.”
“Would another promise even mean anything? Of course I won’t, but how can you ever believe me again?”
Xavier smiled and seized Thomas’s arm. He had moved closer again, no longer huddled in a ball.
“I didn’t want to chase you away,” Thomas said and grabbed Xavier’s hand.
Xavier held tightly to Thomas in return.
“I was ready to come to you. I wanted to go away with you and fall into your arms,” Xavier cried harder now. “I have left the church. I told Catherine and everyone, I accept what I am.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t know what you are.”
“What do you mean?” Tears filled Thomas’s eyes, and he knew it would frighten Xavier, because he cried blood.
“Are you a monster?”
“No.”
“Then why did you lie? Why not tell me?”
“I’m not a monster, but how many people see it that way? I was afraid to tell you because I feared rejection. I hide my nature from everyone because the world would assassinate me. We’re in constant danger of exposure, especially from the Church.”
Xavier nodded his head slowly as tears streamed down his face. With his free hand, he traced Thomas’s finger.
“Xavier, I’m the same man you wanted to run away with. Nothing has changed. I never lied about my beliefs or attitudes. I was completely honest with you about everything else. You’ve only learned the last part about my life.”
“But you’re not alive?” Xavier asked.
“I don’t know what to call it. I’m physically dead, but I walk around and have the same emotions. So is that really death? I know only that I love you and want to take care of you forever.”
The two fell silent. Then, without hesitation, Thomas reached over and turned Xavier’s shoulders so that they faced one another. Xavier complied, even when Thomas grasped his head and slowly pulled him forward, and closed his eyes as Thomas pressed their lips together. With his eyes still open, Thomas watched as Xavier gave in to the kiss and his entire body relaxed, leaning into Thomas. Thomas held him close and gently stroked his hair as the embrace lingered. Xavier opened his mouth first, and a fire lurched through his body as their tongues touched, lasting for several minutes before Thomas softly pushed them apart and gazed into Xavier’s eyes.
“Xavier, I love you.”
Then Xavier cried and spun off the bed, running his hands through his hair. He walked hesitantly toward the door, looking at Thomas as if he might suddenly attack. Thomas predicted what happened next, though it stung nonetheless. Xavier grabbed the door knob without turning away and could barely talk through the tears.
“I love you, too. But after everything, after all that I went through, I can’t believe that you hid this from me. I’m not as sure as you that this is natural. I just can’t—”
Xavier stopped and raced out the door. The final test of his patience had come, and Thomas had passed with flying colors when he simply walked to the window and watched his beloved run. Perhaps he had lost his quest. Maybe Xavier would come back. Thomas had no idea. At least there were no more secrets, nothing else to hinder the final decision that was Xavier’s alone.
Catherine: Lashing Out
30 July 1793 After midnight
XAVIER STARTLED CATHERINE when he barged into her office. Her door swung violently open and hit the wall with a crash, sending an entire row of books onto the floor. Xavier stood there, breathing heavily and sweating profusely, and glared at her for a moment before tears coursed down his cheeks.
Catherine took a second to gain her composure and then rushed to her brother. She took him by the arm and brought him into the room before closing the door and setting him into a chair. She sat opposite him, watching him try to gain control. Without a word, he got up, strode to the bar, and poured himself a glass of scotch. He sucked it down in one gulp before refilling and returning to the seat.
“What has gotten into you?” Catherine asked.
“I suppose you haven’t any idea what might have gotten into me,” he said sarcastically.
“I won’t speak with you like this. I don’t want this anguish again. If you want to tell me something, then let me know, but this has got to stop.”
Catherine snatched the glass from him and smashed it against the bookcase. Xavier smirked, shook his head, and got a second glass and filled it.
“I won’t yell at you,” he said calmly, “but I need the alcohol.”
“Before you drink yourself into nonsense, will you tell me what this is about?”
“You knew, didn’t you? All along, you knew.”
“Knew what?” Catherine wracked her brain for answers but figured it out at the same time he said it.
“He isn’t human. You knew that he was a monster, and you hid it from me. Me! I trusted you.” Xavier finished the scotch and poured even more.
“Xavier, calm down. We need to talk about this rationally.”
“Admit it. Just admit that you betrayed our trust.”
“Please, sit down and stop drinking.”
“Just tell me, please. I want the truth.”
“Yes, I knew,” Catherine answered softly.
Xavier walked over and slammed another glass of scotch, already staggering as he walked back. “And you never thought that I might be interested in that little tidbit of information?” Xavier questioned, drunk enough to giggle.
“Why should I have told you when you didn’t even acknowledge feelings for him? You would’ve run in fear. Until you came to terms with what you wanted, I saw no reason to drive a bigger wedge between you two. Besides, it was his secret to tell you, not mine.”
Xavier laughed derisively. “Catherine, we’re not talking about some minor secret. The man is dead. And he could’ve killed me.”
“For heaven’s sake, be reasonable. He worships the ground you walk on. Here you made a grand announcement about leaving the church, and at the first sign of a challenge you revert to an archaic view of the world, good versus evil. What if reality is more complex? What if there’s nothing wrong with being a vampire? Can’t you stop for one second and think of other possibilities? There was nothing to fear from Thomas except utter devotion to a fool priest.”
Xavier drank more as she scolded him. She was at least grateful that in his inebriat
ion he could not lift himself out of the chair to run away when she finished. He put his glass down.
“I still don’t see how you could encourage me to be with something that doesn’t live.”
“I saw you happy for the first time since childhood. I saw the same Xavier who wandered around this house gleefully and in love with life. I saw that adulthood and the Catholic Church had taken those things away from me and I hoped against hope that Thomas could restore them.”
“Catherine, listen to me.” Xavier leaned toward her. “He kills to survive. He’s a murderer. And that never bothered you?”
“Did you ask him about it? You’ve made all sorts of judgments against him without knowing a thing about it. I asked him. Did you? Because he explained everything and it makes more sense than simply castigating something that you don’t understand.”
Catherine crossed the space between them and knelt before her brother. “Listen to me. You left the church. You don’t have to believe in a black-and-white world anymore. Imagine shades of gray and possibilities waiting for you that you never knew existed. Maybe you can see if you two can work things out. I can’t answer that for you. But maybe you should try.”
“Catherine, are you listening to yourself? You sound mad. You sit there and with complete sincerity hand me over to a vampire. A creature that feeds off humans. Do you honestly believe that I could lead such a life?” Even in his drunkenness, he gaped at her in horror.
This had given her pause a number of times. Though she trusted Thomas’s explanation and never feared him, she often wondered if he intended to bring Xavier into that existence as well, which Catherine thought doomed to failure. Regardless of their love, Thomas viewed the world as did she: a cruel and random place where people regularly injured one another without cause. For a vampire to live in the midst of this and yet adhere to principles higher than most people only underscored her acceptance of his varied nature. But Xavier was different. He could not easily harm another person, let alone live off blood.
