by Rice, Anne
“ ‘Are you prepared to fight for immortality?’ Petronia asked of me.
“ ‘Not at all, not one wit,’ I said, ‘nor for my life. Not against the bully that I know you to be.’
“ ‘Bully!’ She mocked me. ‘You call me that? After you had your familiar attack me with flying shards of glass?’
“ ‘He did what he could to protect me. You were in Blackwood Manor. You meant to do me harm.’
“ ‘And why isn’t he here?’ she asked.
“ ‘Because he can’t be. You know this,’ I said. ‘I’m no match for you. I saw what you did to Manfred a moment ago. You play an unfair game with me. You always have.’
“ ‘Stubborn,’ she said as she smiled, cruelly this time, and shook her head. ‘Always your way. Pride, that’s your sin.’
“Arion reached out for me and took my head in both his hands, and I felt his soft silky thumbs against my cheeks. ‘Why don’t you let him go?’ he asked. ‘He’s innocent.’
“ ‘But that’s the best kind,’ said Petronia.
“ ‘Then you mean truly to do it,’ said Arion, stepping back, ‘not merely to kill him?’
“ ‘I mean to do it,’ she said nodding, ‘if I find him fit for it, if I find him strong.’
“Before I could protest, before I could mock, before I could sneer or plead or whatever might have come into my head, she picked me up and threw me, as she had done with Manfred, against the far wall. The blow to my head was terrific, and I thought, This death is not going to take very long.
“At the same time I became enraged as I always do by such hurt, and, falling down on the floor, I sought to get up immediately, and I flew at her, missing her and falling on my knees.
“I heard her cruel laughter. I heard Manfred weeping. Where was Arion? I looked up and caught a glimpse of the two men seated in their chairs at the table. And where was she?
“She slipped her hand under my shoulder and yanked me to my feet and slapped me hard on the left side of my face and then threw me across the floor. I went sprawling. It was pointless to try to fight. It was everything to keep to my word. To give her no sport at all. But I couldn’t keep to it. Again, I tried to get up.
“Now, I knew nothing of fighting. Or I should say all I knew of it was what I had watched in boxing, which was my favorite spectator sport. And there was no way to apply what I knew in this situation, and I had never acquired any skill at fighting myself.
“But as I rose to my feet this time I saw Petronia standing right before me, and it seemed commonsensical that if I ran low at her I could topple her, and so I did this, tackling her right below the knees, and over me she went.
“The men laughed at this, which was unfortunate. I would rather have had cheers. But spinning round I came down on her before she could rise, and I tried to put my thumbs into her eyes. She caught me around the throat with both her hands, and now, fully enraged, she threw me over and back on the floor and then dragged me across it until she had come to the balcony, at which point she grabbed both my wrists in one hand and slung me over the white railing and asked me if I would like to be dropped to my death.
“I could see the lights of the traffic far below on the winding road. I could also see the ocean boiling on the rocks just beyond it. I gave her no answer. I was dazed. I also thought I was doomed. I knew Manfred didn’t have the power to stop her. And I didn’t think that Arion would.
“That I had thrown her over only made things worse.
“Next I knew she had drawn me up and thrown me onto the floor again and was kicking me and dragging me about the room. I thought of her as a giant cat again, as I had in the Hermitage, and of myself as her prey.
“ ‘This is not the way to do such a thing,’ Arion said to her. I heard it near me as though he had come up to her, but where we were in the room, I didn’t know.
“Petronia said, ‘We choose our own way, don’t we? We must do it the way we want to do it. In a fraction of a second, all his wounds will heal. He’ll know the power of the Blood when that happens, and it will be all the finer for him. Let me have what I need.’
“ ‘But why, my darling, why do you need it?’ Arion said. ‘I don’t understand, my precious one, why the rage, always the rage?’
“They went on talking but they had switched back into Italian. I sensed that he was talking about the passage of time and that she had once been different, but that was all I could divine. The Old Man continued to cry.
“I tried to move and then I felt Petronia’s foot on my throat. I was choking. She let up on the pressure and I saw her face above mine, her hair pouring down and tickling me as she drew me up to her with both her hands. My weight meant nothing to her. She came in close to me as though she meant to kiss me on the throat.
“I lay back on a couch, and she had her arms behind my back, and her mouth was open against my skin, and then I felt two sharp pinpricks on the side of my throat, and the world and all my pain went dim. I heard her heart beat.
“Teach me, she said. I will not have my kiss be quiet.
“That she was sucking my blood from me I knew, and that I was getting weaker and weaker I knew as well. And it did seem that all my life fled from me, that image after image of childhood, young manhood and the last few years of love and ecstasy and wonder fled from me with my blood—uncontrollably, unstinting and pure. What this intimacy meant in the greater scheme of things I was helpless to understand, and then she drew back and I went limp in her arms. I sank down, free, onto the floor.
“Petronia had hold of my arm. She was dragging me again. I felt the sharp kick of her foot in my ribs. I could no longer see. I could hear the Old Man cry out. I knew it was for me that he cried. But she merely cursed under her breath. The marble felt cold beneath me. I lay sprawled against it.
“Suddenly the scene changed. I was no longer in my body but looking down on it, and down on all the occupants of the room. I was at the entrance to a long dark tunnel, and a roaring wind surrounded me, a frightening wind, and at the end of the tunnel there appeared a wondrous light, a light truly beyond description, and in that light, huge gold-and-white light, I could see the figures of Pops and Sweetheart gazing at me. Lynelle was also with them. I wanted desperately to join them, but I couldn’t move. Some hideous fascination with Petronia and Manfred and Arion prevented me from moving. Some putrid ambition kept me from turning and reaching out for those I so loved. There was no clarity in me. There was only turbulence. Then, as suddenly as this vision had come, it was gone. I had made no decision.
“I was back in my aching and bruised body. I was on the marble floor again.
“ ‘You’re dying,’ Petronia said. ‘But I know you now, I know you from the Blood, and I won’t let it happen, Tarquin Blackwood. I claim you as my own.’ Again, her arms lifted me.
“ ‘Ask him what he wills,’ said the black one named Arion.
“ ‘What do you will?’ she demanded. She held me up on my knees in front of her. I could feel her velvet pants against me. ‘Speak to me,’ she said. ‘What do you will?’
“Helpless and clumsy I fell against her crotch, grabbing for her leg and then recoiling, and near collapsing, as she jerked my shoulder and held me on my knees.
“ ‘What do you want!’ she demanded again. What was I to say? To die? In this place, around the world from Aunt Queen, from Mona, from all I loved, to die without a trace?
“I raised my fist, trying to hurt her. I hit her but my fist had nothing behind it. I clawed at her velvet clothes. I tried to hit her again. I struck at her private parts.
“ ‘Oh, you want to see it, do you? You want to see what they all laughed at!’ she said. ‘Come now, pay me homage,’ she said. I heard the snap opening, and then my hand was placed upon the short, very thick stub of her erect cock, then down lower, between two pendulous labia, the shallow crevice that was her vagina, then back again to her cock. ‘Take it in your mouth,’ she said to me angrily. I felt the pressure against my lips. ‘Take it!�
� she demanded.
“I did the only thing I could do. I opened my mouth, and when she shoved her cock into it I bit down with all my might and main. I heard her howl but I hung on. And there came into my mouth a copious flow of electrifying blood such as I never expected—and madly I hung on.
“I bore down with my teeth and the blood, this liquid fire, streamed into me. It poured down my throat. I swallowed without meaning to swallow. It was as if my body, once drained by her, could not resist it, and suddenly I realized that her hands were cradling my head and her howling was laughter and that the blood was not blood as I knew it but a great rush of stimulating fluid that seemed to come from her heart and her brain.
“Know me. Know who I am! This she said to me, and there came a rush of knowledge into me which I couldn’t deny. I would have turned away from it if I could. I hated her that much. But I couldn’t turn away, and now I couldn’t let go.
“Long, long centuries ago she had been born to an actress mother and a gladiator father in the Rome of Caesar, a freakish child, half male, half female, a thing to be destroyed by ordinary parents but kept by hers for the theater, in which she grew to be a gladiator of great strength by the age of fourteen.
“Before that point, a thousand times she’d been shown privately to those who could pay for it, for those who wanted to touch her and have her touch them. Never had she known love for her own sake, or privacy, or a moment of delicacy, or a scrap of clothing that wasn’t for show.
“In the arena she was fierce and murderous. I saw the spectacle—the huge crowds roaring for her. I saw the sand red with the blood she shed. She won every match, no matter how heavy or great her opponent. I saw her in her shining armor, her sword at her side, her hair tied back, her eyes on Caesar as she made her regal bow!
“Years passed during which she fought, her parents commanding ever higher and higher fees. At last, when she was still a girl, she was sold to a merciless master for a fortune, and he sent her into the ring against the fiercest of wild beasts. Even these could not defeat her. Nimble and fearless she danced against lions and tigers, thrusting her spear deep and true to the mark.
“But she grew tired in her heart, tired of combat, tired of lovelessness, tired of misery. The crowd was her lover, but the crowd was nowhere in the dark of night when she slept chained to her bed.
“Then Arion had come, Arion had paid to see her as had so many. Arion had paid to touch her, as had so many. Arion had bought dresses to pose her. Arion had embraced her. Arion had liked to comb her long black hair. Then Arion had bought her and set her free. Arion had given her a heavy purse and said, ‘Go where you please.’ But where could she go? What could she do? She couldn’t bear the sounds of the circus during the games. She couldn’t bear the thought of the gladiatorial schools. What was there for her? Was she to be pimp and whore at the same time? She had tagged after Arion, loving him.
“ ‘You are my life now,’ she had told him. ‘Don’t turn your back on me.’ ‘But I gave you the world,’ he had answered her. Unable to bear her tears, he had given her more money, a house in which to live. But still she came to him weeping.
“And finally he took her under his wing. He brought her to his city. He brought her to beautiful Pompeii. His was the cameo trade, he told her. He had three shops of cameo makers, the finest in all of the empire. ‘Can you learn this art for me?’ he asked her. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘For you I would learn anything. Anything at all.’ She set to work with a passion she’d never known. She wasn’t fighting for multitudes, she wasn’t fighting for her own worthless life. She was fighting to please Arion, a fragile and total thing. Her enemies were clumsiness, impatience, anger. She studied with all the masters in his shops. She watched. She imitated. She worked in shell, in stone, in precious jewels. She mastered the chisel, the small drill. She learned all that she could.
“Finally, at the end of two years, she had her specimens to show Arion, fine and perfect things. She had done gatherings of gods and goddesses like unto the friezes on the temples. She had done portraits like unto the finest in the Forum. She had made art out of a craft. Never had he seen such work, he told her. He loved her. And such happiness she’d never known.
“Then came the terrible days of Vesuvius, the eruption of the mountain and the death of the idyllic little city where they had all known such happiness. Arion had fled the night before to the far side of the Bay of Naples. He’d sensed early on the evening before the eruption what was to happen. It had been her duty to see that the slaves of the shops escaped. But only a few would listen to her.
“And when it was all over and the air was full of ash and poison and the sea was full of bodies, when nothing remained where Pompeii had once stood, she had come to Arion’s villa—the very place where we were now—weeping and with only a handful of followers, to tell him that she had failed.
“ ‘No, my beloved,’ he said. ‘You have saved my finest prize, you have saved your own life when I thought that all was lost. What can I give you for this, my sweet Petronia?’ And in time he had given her the Blood that she was giving me. In time he had made her immortal as she was making me.
“She let me go. My lips stroked her cock as I withdrew.
“I fell back on the floor. But I could see with new eyes all around me. And I felt the bruises all over my body healing. I felt the pain leave my head. I sat up as though waking from a dream and I looked out the open window over the railing, and the pure azure of the evening sky caught me and held me and I didn’t hear the voices of the room.
“Arion came. He took hold of me and lifted me just the way she had done it, without effort, and then he reached up to his throat, and he said to me to Drink.
“ ‘No, wait please,’ I whispered. ‘Let me savor what she taught me of herself. If you will.’ I meant it reverently.
“But she flew at me and knocked me to the floor again and there came her foot against my ribs. ‘Trash!’ she said. ‘You dare answer that way to the Master, and who are you to savor what you know of me!’
“ ‘Petronia!’ said Arion to her. ‘Enough.’
“He picked me up. ‘My blood will give you added strength,’ he said. ‘Take it. It’s far older than hers, and you won’t be bound to her so very much.’
“I could have cried at her savagery. I had so loved her in the Blood, and I had been a fool for it, such a fool, but as he said now to drink, I ran my tongue over my teeth, why I didn’t know. And I discovered the eyeteeth were fangs, and with them I kissed his throat, as he had directed me, and there came a new stream of images and blood.
“These images I can’t claim to remember. I think that somehow, through some skill, he guarded his generous and older heart. I think he gave me the Blood and its strengthening power without all his secrets. But what he did give me was inexpressibly glorious and it filled my hurt soul after her rebuff.
“I saw Athens in him. I saw the famed Acropolis thronged and thriving. I saw it with temples and images brilliantly painted as I had been taught it was painted, not as we now see Greek art, as white and pure, but done in vivid blues and reds and flesh tones, oh, the marvel of it! I saw the Agora filled with people! I saw the whole town spread on the gentle slopes of the mountain. My head teemed with priceless visions, and where he was in all this I couldn’t guess. I felt the language of the people all around me, and I saw the hard stone street beneath my sandals, and felt his blood pumping into me, washing my heart and my soul.
“ ‘Only the Evil Doer, my child,’ he said to me as the Blood pounded. ‘Feed only on the Evil Doer. When you hunt, unless you take only the Little Drink, pass by the innocent heart. Use the power you will have from me to read the minds and hearts of men and women and ferret out the Evil Doer everywhere, and only from him take the blood.’
“Finally, he pulled me back. I licked the blood from my lips. I sighed. This was to be my only nourishment. I knew it. The knowledge had come to me instinctively. And much as I had loved the taste of his blood and the t
aste of Petronia’s blood, I hungered for a base human so that I would know that taste as well.
“He stroked my forehead and hair with his silky hands and he looked into my eyes.
“ ‘Only the Evil Doer, you understand me, young one? Oh, the innocent beckon. They do it unwittingly. And how savory they seem. But mark my word, they’ll lead you straight to madness whether you have an educated soul or no. You’ll come to love them and to despise yourself. Mark my words, it’s the tragedy of Petronia. For her there is no innocence and therefore no conscience and therefore no happiness. And so in misery she goes on.’
“ ‘I follow your rules,’ Petronia said. I heard her nearby.
“ ‘You did not with this one,’ said Arion emphatically.
“ ‘My grandson, my very grandson,’ cried the Old Man to himself in his misery. ‘You blaspheming wretch.’
“ ‘And so he will live forever,’ said Petronia solemnly. She laughed. ‘What more can I do? What more can I give?’
“I turned to look at her. With these precious eyes I saw her harsh loveliness as though it were a miracle.
“And I knew what had been done to me. Of its history, of its commonness, of its rules, of its limits I knew nothing. But I knew what had been done. Immortality. I knew it but couldn’t grasp it. Where was God? Where was my faith? Had the whole edifice collapsed in this monstrosity?
“I began to feel a wrenching pain. Was I deluded?
“Arion said:
“ ‘This is human death. It’ll take a few short moments. Go with the attendants into the bath. They’ll dress you afterwards, and then you’ll learn how to hunt.’
“ ‘So we are vampires,’ I said. ‘We are the legend.’ The pain in my gut was intolerable. I saw the male attendant I had known before. He was waiting.
“ ‘Blood Hunters,’ said Arion. ‘Defer to me with these words, and I’ll love you all the more.’
