"That I did. I was not ashamed of doing so, or of telling him the reason for my desire. He was a strange man, familiar with the dark arts and the even darker currents of the human mind. He made me an offer."
"I'm sure he did," Hawk mumbled. He'd had a few encounters with alchemists himself, back in the day. Though some were simply the deluded cranks most modern people assumed, a few had broken through to another level and actually mastered control of the elements. Doing so gave them great power—some even claimed dominion over life and death. He could only imagine what one of them might demand from a naïve and handsome young man like Aldor—at least, the Aldor he remembered. "What was his price?" he asked with dread.
"He claimed 'twas something I would not even miss." Seeing Hawk's face darken, he laughed. "Not that. I gave away my chastity to you—don't you remember? No, in exchange for an elixir that would keep me young and healthy forever, what he asked for was my soul. Why would I need it, he said, since I would live forever anyway? He, on the other hand, had already lost his in pursuit of his magic. He was too old for the potion himself, as it could not reverse age but only arrest it. My soul would aid him in achieving final rest when his time finally came."
"But—that is madness! Two men cannot barter for a soul! It isn't like a cloak that can be passed from one pair of shoulders to another when both are shivering with cold!"
Aldor lowered his eyes. Hawk saw that the boat was heading back toward the harbor. The city lights grew larger, brighter. "I regret to say that his argument made sense to me at the time. I decided I would rather have you back than my soul. What I didn't understand is that the love I bore you came from that very soul. Once I had signed it away to him, I immediately felt a rush of strength and vigor fill my veins. I knew it was true—I would live forever, healthy and strong. At the same time, though, something else was draining out of me. 'Twas a subtle leak, one might say, and I only noticed that much later."
"What do you mean?" Hawk leaned closer. "What happened?"
"Basically what I should have expected, if I had been thinking clearly. Yes, I now had eternal life and unending youth. But I no longer had the ability to feel deeply or care about anything, including—perhaps especially—other people. It was as though some malignant fist had grabbed me up and squeezed every last drop of love from my core. I had no warmth left, Hawk. I was as cold as the winter snow, no matter how deeply inside myself I looked."
Amazed, Hawk gaped at him, still struggling to process all he had heard. "Surely there is some way to change all of that. Emotions come naturally to humans—and I could never forget how warm your heart was then. You were almost too fiery for your own good—though I loved your recklessness."
"Even though you are a vampire, you still retain your humanity at some level." Aldor shook his head. "I do not. I am the empty shell of the man you once knew. How could I ever be with you under such conditions? You deserve better, Hawk."
Hawk fought back a fresh volley of tears. He struggled to keep his voice from cracking into a sob.
"Then why did you seek me out?" he nearly wailed in despair. "Why come to my concert and stand in the front row as you did? You wanted me to see you. Nothing you say now could ever convince me otherwise."
"I answered you honestly before. I visited the city on a whim, and I really did spot your image in an advertisement. That took me by surprise. I did not think your kind could be photographed."
"That used to be true," Hawk admitted. It was one reason his music career had remained low-key for so long, even after modern inventions like radio created new opportunities for singers of all genres. He had spent longer than he cared to reflect avoiding fame in order to avoid exposing his secret. "Digital technology changed all that."
Aldor nodded his understanding. "Seeing your face again did rouse my curiosity. My goal was simply to see you perform—you always did have a beautiful voice. I planned to slip away after the performance, leaving you none the wiser. But I did want to see you—up close. I knew even when I pushed my way to the front that I was making a mistake. Yet I persisted. Perhaps I am still reckless in some ways." He sighed. "Frankly, I didn't think you'd even notice me, and even if you did, I didn't think you'd recognize me."
"How could you think that? From the moment I stepped onto the stage, all I saw was you."
"I admit I hadn't expected that." Aldor shrugged. "Another disadvantage to my current state is that I can't always predict what people are going to do. When they act on their emotions, I'm lost."
"But you came backstage. Not that I bought your wide-eyed tourist act for a moment, but what was the point of pretending?"
"Well, Plan B was to play dumb and hope I bored you enough that you would give up and let me go."
The boat was heading quickly back to the harbor, Hawk saw. They had only a few minutes left to come to some sort of resolution. Otherwise, Aldor would most likely disappear for another millennium or so. "Whatever else has happened, whatever you might or might not feel, you showed up at the concert and you met me tonight. That's got to mean something. And by the way—I might let you go if I have to, but I want you to know I will never give up on you."
They fell silent as the boat headed toward the pier.
"Well, you got your wish," Aldor said finally, flashing Hawk a bitter smirk. "Quite an informative conversation, wasn't it? You're probably thinking right now that you liked me better as a wide-eyed tourist."
"Not at all," Hawk said. "From the beginning, all I ever wanted was my Aldor back. I could never regret finding you, no matter what the circumstances."
Aldor seemed to ponder the statement as the boat slid into its berth, and the captain jumped down to grab the ropes.
"You boys enjoy your cruise?" he asked cheerfully.
"It was probably the most meaningful boat trip of my life," Hawk told him as they climbed out.
The captain beamed. "Glad to hear it." He turned his attention to mooring the boat.
"So where do we go from here?" Aldor asked as they walked along the pier together. "Back to our respective hotels and our separate lives? Forget this chance meeting ever happened? That would seem the most sensible choice to me."
"To hell with sensible." Hawk stopped walking and turned Aldor to face him. His fingers pressed deeply into Aldor's forearm. It was the only way he could keep himself from wrapping both arms around Aldor and crushing their mouths together. "I want you to come back to my room. We have all night to come up with a plan."
Aldor looked at the ground, but he didn't pull away from Hawk's grasp. "I already told you, Hawk. It's no use. I can't undo the deal I made. I can't change what I've become. I've been trying for eight hundred years. Nothing has worked." He scowled. "I even entered a monastery in 1517 and took a bloody vow of silence. I spent two years there. If that wasn't torture, I don't know what was."
"Maybe you did try, but you were missing one important aspect of the equation that whole time—me." Hawk tightened his grip, shaking Aldor slightly. "Let me try, Aldor. I might just be able to save both of us this time."
Slowly, Aldor raised his head and gazed into Hawk's face. His eyes reflected fear and uncertainty, but they didn't look soulless to Hawk. He felt a tickle of hope in his own long-dead heart.
"All right," Aldor said at last. "I'll do it."
TRACK SIX
The two stepped into Hawk's hotel room. Aldor looked around with obvious envy. "It's a lot nicer than mine," he observed. His gaze lingered on the wall-sized TV screen, fully stocked bar, and furniture covered in butter-colored Italian leather.
"Courtesy of my CD label," Hawk said, stuffing the key-card into the pocket of his leather jacket. "They think I spend the whole day just lounging around in here, enjoying my VIP perks. Little do they know that when I'm lying down, I really am sleeping like the dead."
"That must be rather inconvenient. How do you handle the … practicalities of avoiding the sun?" Aldor's gaze flicked to the enormous picture windows next, causing Hawk to smile. They offered
a spectacular view of Boston and the sea beyond, but they were also positioned to let in a roomful of light during the daytime. The drapes, though thick, were nowhere near enough to keep every last deadly ray out.
"I have a special container I sleep in. Not exactly a coffin, but it serves the same function. Locks from inside and slides neatly under the bed. Anyone who saw it would think it was just a case for a large musical instrument. But I don't let anyone see it, just to be on the safe side."
"Does that include me?" Aldor turned to him, lifting his brows.
"For now." Hawk motioned to the sofa. "Have a seat. And yes, the sofa's every bit as comfortable as it looks. Can I get you a drink? Shame to waste all that free booze at the bar."
"All right. How about a Scotch?"
Hawk went to get the drink while Aldor settled himself on the plush leather. He moved a bit stiffly, as though he were afraid to let himself truly relax. When Hawk returned, he handed Aldor a shot glass and seated himself on the couch beside him.
"How is it?" he asked, watching Aldor drink.
"Good. Strong. A nice burn." Aldor stroked his throat. He stopped in mid-motion and let his hand drop. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that. Guess I wasn't thinking."
"It's all right. I can control myself. Besides, I've already fed for the evening. Bottled stuff, in case you were wondering. No dead bodies under the sofa."
Aldor stared at him with a casual curiosity. "Have you killed people for blood?" he asked. His even tone startled Hawk. He might have been asking about his gambling habits, or whether he had ever visited a certain museum in a distant city.
"Not in a long time," Hawk answered after a moment, in a shaky voice. "I admit, in the beginning, there were a few. Mostly enemies who had attacked me first. I was defending and nourishing myself at the same time, or so I justified it in my mind. Since then, I've changed my ways. I no longer kill for sustenance, and certainly not for revenge. That's just not the way we do things in the modern world, as you've probably noticed." He hesitated, searching Aldor's face. "Does it bother you to know I've committed murder?"
"I told you," Aldor said coolly, tossing back his drink and crossing his legs, "nothing offends me morally anymore. Besides, that was hundreds of years ago. I'd say the statute of limitations on those crimes ran out long ago. I hope you aren't still punishing yourself over them."
"A few, maybe," Hawk admitted. "Not all. Some of them had it coming."
"Like Duke Corbin, for example? Please tell me you got revenge on him."
"I never did. Rumor had it he was destroyed in the Great Fire of London. For a long time, I hoped that wasn't true, since I would have enjoyed the privilege of staking his shriveled black heart myself." When Hawk felt his emotions building to a feverish intensity, he stopped and physically shook them off. "However, my long life has taught me that it's best not to carry a grudge. In any case, after four hundred years of seeing or hearing nothing of him, I must accept that it's true, and he's gone."
"Most likely. I've heard nothing of him either. And, like you, I've looked." Aldor gave his glass a final tap and set it down on the low table in front of the sofa.
"Want another?" Hawk asked.
"Why not?"
"Tell me where you've been all this time," Hawk said as he got up to refill the glass. "What have you done with your life? Where have you lived, aside from the monastery you mentioned before?"
"All over the world. Never stayed in any one place too long, at least by our standards, or else someone might have wondered why I was still twenty-five years old when everyone around me was getting grey-haired and gouty. As for trades, when courtiers went out of style, I think I dabbled in most all of them at one time or another. At least I did find that my lack of a soul made me naturally excel at one thing—making money. I've amassed quite a fortune over the centuries, making it unnecessary for me to do much of anything nowadays. Pity, when there are so many more careers to choose from in the modern world." Aldor accepted his fresh drink and held it aloft in a mock toast. "As for you, I am most gratified that other people have learned to appreciate your voice. I'm quite proud of what you have accomplished."
"Thank you." Hawk returned to his place on the sofa. "It means a lot to hear you say that."
"The one thing I always found unfair about our own time was how bloody difficult it was for even the most deserving person to get ahead. I mean, take you, for example. Finest voice in the kingdom. Yet because you didn't have the proper lineage, you could never be more than a traveling minstrel. Wonder who ever thought that was the best way to run a kingdom?"
"I guess in some ways I still am a traveling minstrel." Hawk laughed. "I just get paid a bit more now. But you know, I'd do it even if that wasn't the case. I do love creating music."
Hawk saw Aldor's chest sag. "How nice it must be to be able to love something," he murmured.
Seeing his chance to pursue the one subject that genuinely mattered to him, Hawk moved closer to Aldor. Their legs touched, and a spark slithered up Hawk's leg to prod him in the sensitive area nestled between his thighs. A feeling of want, more intense than any desire he'd ever experienced before, either in life or after death, churned through his body. He had to struggle to keep his voice level.
"I still refuse to believe it's a lost cause for you," he said. Tentatively, he reached out and covered Aldor's hand with his. "I think you could learn to love again. Why not give it a try? What do you have to lose?"
"Nothing—I can't argue that. However, I must warn you again that it's useless, Hawk. My soul is gone. I gave it away in a moment of weakness. Now I can't get it back. And without that, what use or need for love have I?"
"But love must exist somewhere other than the soul. What about the heart? The brain?"
"Hawk, please! You talk as though you were still stuck in the thirteenth century! Haven't you bothered to take a single science course in all this time? If you had, you would know that medical doctors, not philosophers, have already solved the mystery of the head and heart. They are merely organs, my dear, capable of fairly sophisticated biological processes but unable to generate the higher emotions on their own. For that, some additional spark is needed … whether we call it the soul, or the psyche, or simply the quality of empathy. And for me, the flame long ago went out."
"But you agreed to let me try to light it again. I assume you haven't changed your mind about that?"
Aldor finished his second drink and set down the glass with an overly cheerful flourish. "Indeed I have not … if only to finally convince you that your optimism is sadly displaced. So go ahead—what do you suggest we try first?"
"Well … I thought I might try kissing you."
Hawk made the statement matter-of-factly, without a hint of either melodrama or desperation. The very simplicity of the idea appeared to startle Aldor, who blinked at him in surprise.
"You really are barking mad, aren't you? You think it could really be that simple?"
"We'll never know unless we try, right? So what do you say? Just lean back and let me do all the work. Afterward, we'll see if it had any effect."
Aldor tossed up his hands in a gesture of resignation. Settling his shoulders, he rested the back of his head on the couch and closed his eyes. "Right, then … fire away."
At last, Hawk thought, eight centuries of waiting and wondering had come to an end. At last, he would once again taste Aldor's sweet lips. He could only imagine the powerful emotions the kiss would arouse in himself. Would they be enough to bring Aldor's long-repressed love for him back to the surface?
Only one way to find out.
Slowly, he leaned forward as Aldor sat unmoving beside him. Forcing his body not to tremble, Hawk half-opened his mouth and tilted it softly against Aldor's. Encountering no resistance, he pressed down harder, gradually adding the very tip of his tongue to the mix.
He was gratified when he heard Aldor exhale as if in pleasure. Lifting his hands, Hawk slid them gently over Aldor's lean shoulders, tracing a pat
h up to his reddish-gold hair. Aldor wore it much shorter than he used to, in keeping with modern styles, but it felt as soft and alluring as ever when Hawk stroked his fingers through it. He couldn't suppress a satisfied murmur of his own as he pushed his tongue in deeper, slipping it along the surface of Aldor's inner cheek. He paused to joust briefly, somewhat playfully, with Aldor's own tongue. His lips, meanwhile, alternated feather-light touches with hungrier thrusts. To his delight, Aldor met each passionate lunge of his mouth with one of his own.
By the time they broke apart, Hawk had given that single kiss everything he had. He had used every trick, technique, and strategy he had picked up over the course of eight long, lonely centuries. He had put his entire heart—mechanical organ though it might have been—as well as his mouth and even his hands into it. Desire burned fiercely between his legs, and bloodlust roiled in his stomach. But he couldn't think of blood just then. Forcibly he pushed such thoughts away.
He pushed Aldor away, too, gently, and held him at arm's length. He wanted to see and interpret his expression and not just his words. "Well? Did it work?"
Aldor's eyes fluttered open gradually, as though he were rousing himself from a hypnotic state.
"No," he said.
Hawk struggled to contain his look of abject defeat, but he sensed he did not succeed very well.
"Do you want me to go?" Aldor asked after a painful moment of silence. He shifted on the couch as if preparing to get up.
"Of course not." Hawk groped for something he could say, any words that might make the situation easier. "I have another idea," he announced at last. He didn't, of course. It was a lie, albeit a well-intentioned one. He struggled to think of a plan—fast.
"Are you suggesting we have sex?" Aldor said, raising a brow. "Not that I'm opposed to the idea in and of itself, but it won't work any better than the kiss. I don't want to put you through that, Hawk. Now you see why I thought it would be better if you never found me again."
Rocking Hard, Volume 2 Page 27
