by Damian Serbu
To Catherine’s chagrin, someone at the door interrupted Jérémie, then she sighed at seeing Anne.
“So, you’re still convinced that the man has honest aims?” Anne asked bluntly.
“I still don’t see how any of this is your concern,” Catherine answered.
“I just worry about friends,” Anne said.
Catherine almost lashed out that they were not friends but stopped herself from such cruelty toward the woman who had saved Xavier.
“Catherine, please listen to Anne,” Jérémie said.
“I respect your opinions and took your counter-potion faithfully, but it gave me a headache, a fierce one, and instead of reversing anything it required more—” Catherine halted. For the first time she questioned what Marcel gave her. She felt completely vapid. Why had she never questioned this? Why did she trust Marcel so completely? She decided to see if they were correct or if it really was a medicine without letting on just yet, so she giggled before continuing. “I’ll make you both happy, but only to prove my point,” Catherine lied. “I’ll return to my former doses of Marcel’s medicine and take this ‘potion’ for another week. Then we can discuss it again. Agreed?”
Jérémie smiled but said nothing while Anne howled with laughter.
“That’s my girl, defiant to the end! Yes, that sounds good. We can talk in a week. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have some places to be this evening.”
Catherine and Jérémie escorted Anne to the door and said goodbye. Something in Anne’s stare startled Catherine. How much did this woman know? If she were correct about a spell, did she also sense Catherine’s doubt? After all, why did Catherine cling to Marcel so vehemently? Was it a potion?
“Catherine?” Jérémie asked. “You’ve gone completely white.”
“What?”
“Are you well?”
“You worry too much. Come, it’s time for lunch.”
Thomas: London
30 October 1793
THOMAS STILL HARDLY believed that Xavier had really crossed over as they lay together in a coffin before sundown in England. The fledgling vampire lay next to him as Thomas caressed his soft cheeks and held the thin body tightly. He expected Xavier to disappear or feared that he would wake up to find it all a dream.
Thomas gently slid out from under Xavier, who slept heavily. Thomas had always awakened early, after the sun had gone but before its light entirely disappeared. His ability to move about so early surprised even Anthony, who had taken years to leave the coffin before total darkness.
Thomas was particularly anxious for Xavier to join him because they planned to see Anthony, after one more lesson. Since his conversion, Thomas had taken Xavier out each night to teach him about the ethic and, more importantly, to survive, disguise himself, and find appropriate victims. It continued to astonish Thomas that Xavier relished this new game, despite occasional bouts of doubt and about their killing nature.
Thomas wondered if either of them would ever stop fawning over the other. For example, on the second night, Thomas had forced Xavier to hunt alone to see that he could do it. Though Xavier obeyed, he did so quickly and came back within minutes.
And tonight they would go to Anthony. But first Xavier needed one more lesson, one he was loath to do and had avoided every night since his transformation. Thomas had no choice but to impose it upon Xavier, however, because Anthony had written that the ethic demanded it to ensure Xavier’s safety. Yet even Thomas hesitated to demand this killing of a child. Xavier protested that this was unnecessary. He asked what child could threaten humanity. Even after example upon example of children even as young as six or seven torturing each other and killing, Xavier balked.
Thomas knew better. Children, in fact, might pose a greater risk because mothers and fathers often believed their offspring, no matter how strange the accusation. One child, one sinister child, could play on society’s weaknesses to create a witch-hunt for vampires.
But the thought of thrusting this upon Xavier, who had suffered enough in his life, pained Thomas. As he paced the room, Thomas sensed Xavier’s approach before his lover put his arms around his waist and hugged tightly.
“Hello, angel. Are you ready to see Anthony?”
“Of course.” Xavier paused. “Shall we go immediately?”
“You know we can’t.”
“Thomas, I don’t understand. Why? Can’t you do it? If the need arose I’d protect myself, but to insist upon this...it makes no sense. It feels like torture. I’d snap a child in half if I saw it harming another. With all my heart I believe that. But why demand this of me?”
Thomas did not know the answer. The ethic dictated such a lesson and Anthony had guided him through it, though Thomas had hardly cared so long as the child deserved death. Why did he cling to this ethic with Xavier? He had no reason other than protecting them from these mysterious elders who governed the vampire world. So why rigidly enforce this?
Xavier’s pleading eyes gave him a new conviction. He had defied the ethic countless times, and so he would again. If Anthony thought it so crucial then he could do it himself.
“You don’t need to do it. I won’t make you.”
“Thank you.” Xavier buried his head against Thomas’s chest. “Can we just go see Anthony?”
They arrived at Anthony’s shortly thereafter and Thomas greeted the latest butler. Anthony maintained a palatial estate outside the city, something he had done for centuries. He hired dependable staff that he kept for five-to ten-year stints because of good treatment and all too generous salaries. They seldom questioned his nocturnal habits, and Anthony disguised his eternal youth by periodically leaving the country for a number of years and returning as the son of the man who had originally left. Despite being new, this butler (James?) recognized Thomas.
“Mr. Lord, I’ll inform Master Yates that you’ve come.”
As the young man trotted off, Xavier leaned into Thomas from behind. “Rather formal, isn’t it?”
Thomas grinned and grabbed Xavier’s chin before pecking him on the forehead. “Anthony likes to indulge in the opulent life of a British nobleman and can be rigid with his staff.”
“I hope you don’t treat people like that.”
Before Thomas answered, Anthony whisked toward them.
“It happened! You can’t imagine the hours that I spent fretting about how you’d react to Thomas’s invitation.” Anthony grinned playfully at Thomas but quickly turned his attention to Xavier. “All he’s talked about since he first laid eyes on this handsome priest was making him a lifemate. I urged him to find another, thinking that no priest would want to join our depraved ranks, but he persisted. I worried about him. He had profound lapses of judgment, and yet here the two of you stand, and you one of the most attractive vampires I’ve seen,” Anthony said as looked Xavier up and down.
“You can stop the theatrics,” Thomas said. “Xavier is your guest for the first time and deserves better.”
Anthony erupted with laughter. “Xavier, if I ever make you uncomfortable, tell me. Thomas and I have a strange relationship with constant bantering. I’d never mean to use you as a pawn in our little game. Welcome to our legion, and I mean this sincerely. You make a fine addition.”
“How did you already know?” Xavier asked. “Was it my appearance?”
Anthony moved them down the hall and into a grand dining room before entering a smaller study in which they all sat in fine silk chairs.
“We can spot each other easily. But I knew earlier than that. I heard before you arrived in London that Thomas transformed you.”
“You knew already?”
“He has spies all over the world,” Thomas broke in, more caustic than intended, but he despised the mysterious council’s secrecy. “Suffice it to say that he learns too much about all of us.”
“Thomas, that’s unfair. I don’t watch your every move. Something of this magnitude came to my attention and I’ve nothing but approval. I need only to remind Xavier to be caref
ul in your interactions with humans because you’re still very close to them. I know that you’ll see Catherine, which is fine, but avoid seeing the other people you knew in life.”
Xavier nodded agreement, as did Thomas.
“We’ll obey the ethic,” Thomas said.
“As you always do?” Anthony raised his eyebrow.
“You know I try.”
“I’m not always sure, but I know one thing. I already trust Xavier more than you. Speaking of which, I forgot to make sure that you minded my instructions when you converted him. Xavier, I assume that you agreed to the transformation and that he didn’t take you by surprise?”
“No,” Xavier answered seriously.
Thankfully, the conversation turned toward life in London and the mundane, yet was lively enough that in the blink of an eye the three men had spent an entire night together.
“Thank you for this evening,” Thomas said. “We need to go. Xavier’s ability to resist the sun isn’t as strong as ours.”
“Will I get better at it?” Xavier asked.
“I doubt it,” Anthony answered. “There are differences in the vampire world just as in humans. Some withstand the sun better than others and I’ve no idea what causes it.”
“Any chance that you’ll join us in Paris?” Thomas asked Anthony.
“Not for a long time. I mean no offense, Xavier, but I detest the French and this revolution gets uglier and uglier.”
“As if the English had nothing to be ashamed of.” Thomas was glad to hear Xavier tease in return.
“Yes, we’ve our troubles, especially with those damnable Americans and their selfishness.”
“And so we depart his royal highness,” Thomas said and bowed in mock deference. “I’ll write soon, and no doubt your little spies will keep you informed of our whereabouts.”
“I don’t spy on you.”
Thomas never believed this but they departed with a hug and promise to rendezvous soon.
“Hurry,” Thomas told Xavier as the sun approached though not yet visible. Xavier seemed tired and weak as his eyes drifted shut. Thomas gently cuddled Xavier, lifted him up, and ran toward their flat. As Xavier leaned his head on Thomas’s chest, already asleep, Thomas used his cloak to shield Xavier lest the sun appear sooner than anticipated. Once home, he placed Xavier in the coffin but before joining him took a moment to watch his abbé sleeping peacefully. He cherished the minutes before he fell asleep when he could gaze at his sleeping lover and hold him.
Part XII: The Stone Removed
Xavier: Melisent Returned
1 November 1793
THE WEEKS SINCE Thomas had converted Xavier went quickly. In the first week, Thomas filled every night with lessons. He explained the ethic, he taught Xavier to hunt, and ensured that Xavier could protect himself. Then Xavier took time to explore his abilities for a couple of days before they set sail to tour London and visit Anthony. And all the while Xavier and Thomas fell more in love. They talked endlessly and lay in each other’s arms for hours.
Yet on this night Xavier alone wandered Paris for the first time since his transformation. Thomas had business for the first part of the night, which bored Xavier, so he explored the city alone, no longer afraid because his vampiric strength and speed protected him.
Occasions such as this gave him time to ponder his new life, especially the killing. So much of him had embraced his vampiric nature and relished the role as society’s protector. The blood visions from the people he killed always assuaged any guilt, for they had done unspeakable things to other people without any remorse. He had become a killer, something he had never imagined of himself. He still had moments of anguish as he tried to accept the fact that he had ended another life, fiend or not. Thomas gave him strength whenever this happened, never belittling him or regretting that he had brought Xavier over. And the more time that passed since his transformation, the more he accepted his deadly acts.
He had meandered for an hour, unaware of his direction, before stumbling into his former parish. He barely recognized it, filthy with dirt and vagrants, decorated only by the nearby guillotine. Only now did Xavier acknowledge the pit in his stomach that had festered since his transformation. But why? Released from the church and his angelic image, with his sister safe and his love at his side, and able to protect himself and the innocent with his vampiric strength, he expected tranquility but instead found discomfort. And then it came to him.
He had lost all trust in humanity. True, he clung to protecting the guiltless, but with a cynicism that the world was doomed nonetheless. Xavier, the loving, trusting, abbé, had lost his faith. This thought enveloped him when the perfect symbol of his fall loomed ahead: the ruins of his church, burned to the ground. Xavier approached and scooped ashes into his hand, letting them cascade slowly to the earth.
“Sad, isn’t it?”
A woman’s voice startled Xavier from behind. Thomas would have scolded him for his lack of alertness.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she said. “I’m just sad that they burned the church.”
A beautiful woman stood before him, dressed in common clothes and holding a toddler’s hand.
“Who cares anymore that another church is gone?”
The woman stared hard at the ground as a tear trickled down her cheek.
“I’m sorry Mademoiselle. But no one cares about this place anymore.”
Then she looked him in the eye, took a deep breath, and spoke softly but with conviction.
“I still care about this place and what it meant for me. Some of us still care, abbé.”
No one but Thomas had called him that in months.
“Abbé?” he repeated.
“Don’t you remember me? It’s Melisent. And this is my son, Pierre,” she said and instructed him to say hello, which he did shyly.
Xavier finally recognized her, especially the dancing, innocent eyes. She had grown into a woman since Maria and he had helped her flee Paris, still with a stunning beauty but now accompanied by a mother’s quiet dignity. Xavier recalled telling Thomas her story, about her rape by the man for whom she worked, her pregnancy, and getting her out of Paris to safety with the story that she was a widow of the revolution. After the shock wore off, Xavier smiled and hugged her.
“Melisent, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry about what I said, it’s just—”
“I understand. I returned to Paris to introduce my son to my parents, but I also came to thank you for saving me. You’re the most unselfish man I know. I’ll always cherish you and the Church, no matter what the revolution brings. In my heart I know that you did God’s work.”
“It was just my duty,” Xavier said. “How did you return? What did you tell your family? Are you married?”
“I told them the truth.”
“You told them?”
“Yes, and I told my husband.” Melisent patted Xavier’s arm and smiled. “It sounds mad, I know. But you gave me such strength and belief in myself. I vowed that I couldn’t live a lie with the man I married. So, after he’d courted me for some time, I took a great risk and the possibility of public humiliation and told him the truth. I trusted him and knew that he really loved me. I mean, how many young men in a village would court a widow with a child? No one else there gave me even a thought. They were all very kind and gentle. I was accepted but had no hope of marriage. Until André.”
“So he accepted your story? Just like that?”
“I know it sounds fanciful, but he did. And that night he asked me to marry him. We can’t tell the other villagers, of course. We made this trip to Paris at my request and I told my parents everything.”
“And their reaction?” Xavier asked.
“They were stunned to see me, even more so with a child and husband. But they accepted both Pierre and André.” Melisent played with her son’s hair before returning her gaze to Xavier. “We leave soon. André thinks Paris is too dangerous. He grew up in the country and has lived there his whole life. Bu
t I said that I had to find you first for I owed you everything. I wasn’t surprised to find the church gone, just sad, but God acted again in bringing you here tonight.”
Xavier stood lost when a strapping man with blond hair and a farmer’s hands ran around the corner.
“Melisent, there you are—I’ve been worried.”
“André,” she said, “I’d like you to meet Abbé Saint-Laurent.” Melisent beamed with pride.
“Abbé, I’ve heard wonderful things about you. It’s a pleasure,” the young man said and wrapped his arm around his wife. “I’d like to talk more, but we really must go.”
“Please, don’t let me keep you,” Xavier said.
André picked up the boy and started away, but Melisent waited. Her eyes welled with tears but a smile spread across her face.
“I’ll probably never see you again, abbé. May I kiss you?”
Xavier stifled his tears and nodded. With that, Melisent pecked him on the cheek before returning to her husband who took her hand and led them away. Alone in the blackened rubble, his tears burst from within.
God still cared. Xavier had forsaken religion, given up on humanity, and indulged in himself without thought to the world and with little concern for vocation. And in the midst of this God sent Melisent as a voice of reason so that Xavier would find a compromise. Xavier prayed for the first time in months. He crawled to the altar’s remnants and bowed his head.
“God, wherever you are, whoever you are, I don’t pretend to understand. Are you the Catholic God? A Huguenot God? Something else? Or are you the God of all people and all religions? Or are you several gods? Your mystery confounds me. Yet you guide us. Even in my death you watch over me. I won’t forget again. I’ll live a good life and protect people. You gave me what I always sought, a wonderful partner and this eternal life. I won’t waste it again. You’ve called me back to your service, and I’m ready.”
Xavier finished and wept in a huddled mass.
