I am leaving this night. My decision pains me, for I have longed to see
my son take up the seal I held, and that my father held before me. He is
fine and worthy, and may be considered as safe as any man now that
Renata lies in her grave, although I am sure that Delporrino plans
vengeance and might possibly target him. I have vowed on my son’s life to
hunt Delporrino down like the animal he is and see that he ruins no
further lives.
Auselmo, best loved in all the worlds, I will travel to your home and see
your family once more, and then I depart Italy for the East. The world is
now the smallest place, it seems. I have always longed to travel; yet in those
dreams I was never alone.
I carry you in my heart, Auselmo, and in that way you shall share
immortality with me. As I imagine the future, it stretches out before me
unending, and I move through it with no more conscious thought than a
body jerking convulsively at the end of the hangman’s rope. I move. I exist.
I am. And yet, I do not live. Tonight I slip the final bonds of mortal life.
The only thing I choose to carry with me besides you, beloved Auselmo, is
this journal.
Kyrie eleison; Christe eleison; Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy.
^\
Adin closed his eyes, refusing, even in his mind, to name the
reason for his malaise. Christmas was only three days away, and
with it, the realization that he was spending it alone, by choice.
He was giving himself this one last hurrah of self-pity, and after
New Year’s, he would return to the world of the living. He
picked at a scone he’d made that morning for breakfast,
188 Z.A. Maxfield
admiring the way he’d rolled and cut it into a bell shape for the
holidays, when the phone rang.
“Tredeger,” he said, after locating the cordless phone deep
in the soft innards of his chair.
“Adin?” Boaz.
“Boaz, what’s up? What part of the world are you calling
from?”
“London. Mr. Santos is enjoying a very Dickens Christmas.”
Boaz hesitated. “What’s going on up there in Washington? I
hear you’re having some weather.”
“Yes, it’s raining hard. Little cold. Nothing we can’t handle.”
That could be the understatement of the year.
“Did you get the package I sent you?” Boaz asked.
“Yes.”
“And the miniature? Donte wanted you to have that. He
thought—”
“Did Donte really send that to me? Or was that you?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t mine to give,” said Boaz
uncertainly. “Did you read the rest of the journal?”
Adin pressed his lips together into a tight line. “Yes. I did.”
The pain and rage he’d felt as he read of Donte holding his
dying lover haunted Adin’s dreams. “Thank you.”
“Good. When I didn’t hear from you…”
“I’m sorry; I should have acknowledged it.” Adin held the
phone to his ear with one hand and sipped a whiskey with the
other. “Look, did Santos…? What exactly did Santos say when
he read
Notturno
?”
“He was very contemplative. He didn’t say much of
anything.”
“I see.”
“I sensed that he sees his father in a different light now. He
hasn’t made a move on Donte yet. I can’t tell if he plans
anything in the future, but so far—”
NOTTURNO
189
“Why are you still with Santos?” asked Adin irritably. “Do
you sell your loyalty to the highest bidder? I thought you were
the quintessential family retainer. Santos nearly had me killed. I
know in the grand scheme of—”
“The best way to work for Donte is to see to it that he
doesn’t come into contact with Santos. I’m in an excellent
position to assure that.” Boaz hesitated. “Have you seen him?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“Who?”
“Him, and don’t think you’ll trick me into saying his name,”
replied Adin. He was
not
going to do it.
“You think you can’t say it, don’t you? It doesn’t work that
way, Adin. Saying his name isn’t what brings him.”
“It’s brought him in the past.”
“Coincidence. You mustn’t be afraid of Donte, Adin.”
Adin was annoyed. “What do you know about it? I’m not
afraid.”
“Refusing to say his name? Like he’s Lord Voldemort or
something? Adin, you are
so
afraid to say his name.”
“I am not afraid to say it. Donte Fedeltà, Boaz,
Donte
. It’s not as if seeing him is my worst-case scenario. Are you
satisfied? Niccolo Pietro di Sciarello.”
“Oh yes.” Boaz laughed. “I’m satisfied. Quite. Merry
Christmas, Adin.”
“Merry Christmas.” Adin hung up the phone, cursing. His
bell-shaped scone seemed to have lost some of its charm, and
he picked up the plate to take it into the kitchen. Once there, he
got down one of his finer china teacups. Edward was fond of
saying, “A pricey teacup always means a better cup of tea,” or
something shallow like that.
Outside, the weather was foul, the tree branches slashing the
air and rattling like bones. No time went by without flashes of
lightning illuminating his drenched and stripped garden, and the
thunder was giving him a headache. He watched as a
particularly immense fork of lightning cracked the blackness of
190 Z.A. Maxfield
the sky, and caught sight of Donte standing in the shadow of a
winter-barren maple tree.
The cup and saucer Adin held so carefully a moment before
clattered to the tiles as he ran for the porch door, heedless of
the shards of broken porcelain as they pierced his bare feet. He
exploded through the back door and was down the steps,
running through rain now falling in sheets that made it hard to
see.
“Aw. Crap,
Boaz.
” The little shit. “Donte!” Adin called out to the figure, although by then it had disappeared into the
darkness behind the tree.
Adin rounded the tree, slipping a little in the muck of slimy,
wet leaves and debris from the storm. He skidded to a halt in
front of Donte, who stood dripping and still as the trunk of the
tree itself.
“Donte!” Adin repeated, reaching out for him. “You’re
wet.”
“So perceptive.” Donte looked irritated but didn’t look
away.
“Are you in the habit of lurking in people’s gardens during
inclement weather?”
Donte rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course I am. Do you never
go to the cinema? It’s in the vampire handbook to skulk about
the homes of chosen victims, looking morose before we—”
Adin crossed his arms over his chest. “I suspect I should get
a copy of that handbook, now that I’m a favored snack food
among your kind.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Donte whispered.
Adin held up an arm to keep the rain from falling directly
into his eyes. Donte shook his head, and water droplets flew
everywhere. Adin put a hand on the side of Donte’s face, but
Donte flinched away.
“What?” Adin tried again, this time catching and cupping
Donte’s jaw in his hand and following up that small victory by
leaning into his body.
NOTTURNO
191
“Adin.” Donte almost sighed. “I am trying to understand
your behavior toward me. I cannot comprehend you at all!”
“What?” Adin shouted over a particularly loud clap of
thunder. He couldn’t take his eyes off Donte, who looked like a
god, he imagined, elemental and fierce, backlit by the lightning
silhouetting the tree behind him. Even so, he registered that
lightning and trees were not a happy combination.
“How can you not hate me?” Donte asked. “Do you
imagine I would have come for you if your friends had not? I
could not have saved you, Adin. I was fully and completely
prepared to allow you to
die
, and still you call me to your side.
You gave yourself to me and told me you love me. Are you
insane?”
“I don’t know, all right? It’s
complicated
,” Adin snapped as he wiped the water from his face. “I accepted the inevitable. That’s
all.”
“So if I were to place my hand around your throat or over
your mouth and nose, you would allow me to end your life
because it’s
inevitable
?”
“You wouldn’t do that, Donte.” Rain continued to pound
them.
“You cannot know that,” Donte shouted. “I don’t even
know that! You’re only human. I could catch your face between
my palms and crush you like a berry, Adin.”
“Now there’s a fun and spanky image,” Adin murmured.
Donte put a hand through his wet hair. “I need to
understand why you continue to place yourself in my hands.
What can you possibly be thinking? I’m nothing less than a
monster.”
“Perhaps.” Adin reached out a hand and snaked it around
Donte’s neck until he could feel Donte’s cool skin beneath his
fingertips.
“Stop!” Donte cried, spinning Adin and covering his mouth
and nose with the palm of one large hand. Adin felt an initial
surge of panic and fought Donte’s hold on him for a moment.
Donte fought back, pressing harder, giving no quarter, cutting
192 Z.A. Maxfield
off all Adin’s air as surely as if his hands were wrapped around
Adin’s throat. He hissed in Adin’s ear. “You’re a fool to trust
me.”
Adin willed himself to be still, to allow his body to relax into
Donte’s. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Donte’s
strong chest. He felt the hand gripping his face tighten further.
“I’m a monster, Adin,” Donte said softly, his lips spraying
the falling raindrops onto Adin’s cheek. “Not human. I cannot
love you.”
Adin listened, and still he couldn’t make himself believe.
Donte might consider himself a monster. Certainly what he was
doing was monstrous, but Adin continued to submit, even
though his lungs burned and his heart clenched inside his chest.
Even though his body screamed at him to fight. This was
Donte, not Santos or his men. This was Donte, and Adin
chose
not to fight. As the pain of not breathing began to give way to a
dizzy euphoria, he became aware that perhaps he really didn’t
care. Maybe the answer was just that simple.
Abruptly, Adin felt a hard shove and landed on his knees in
the squelching mud.
“What gives you this blind faith in me?” Donte snapped,
standing over him. Rain dripped into Adin’s face until he shook
his head to clear it. He tried to lurch to his feet but slipped
twice before he made it.
Adin turned to face Donte again. “I don’t know.”
“Look at yourself, caro! If I hadn’t stopped, you would be
dead.”
“But you stopped.”
“But if I hadn’t—”
“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?” Adin grabbed
the lapels of Donte’s jacket and pulled him close. “Life is full of things that can kill me, you vampire motherfucker, and you sure
as shit can just
get in line
!” Adin put his lips to Donte’s in a fierce, quick kiss.
“Adin.” Donte laughed a low, rusty laugh. He pulled Adin
up into his arms as the smaller man wrapped around him.
NOTTURNO
193
“Shut up, Donte.”
Donte carried Adin to the porch. “Oh, caro. I always seem
to end up wearing you somehow.”
Donte laid him down on the wooden surface, under the
eaves, sliding in to sit next to him. Adin laughed and snorted
water through his nose.
“Always so elegant. There is a saying about certain people
not having the sense to come in out of the rain.” He drew his
hand down Adin’s soggy T-shirt. Adin’s head was half-hidden
by pots of fuchsias.
Adin reached up and caught Donte’s hand. “Rain is the least
of my problems.”
“Adin.” Donte’s voice held a warning.
“No.” Adin shook his head. “You were hiding behind a tree
in my garden like a wet raccoon during what is arguably the
worst storm of the season.” Adin reached for Donte’s belt
buckle and undid it, then carefully unzipped his trousers with
one hand.
“That is not a very dignified image,” said Donte, fumbling
with Adin’s soggy jeans. Adin helped by unbuttoning the fly.
Donte coaxed Adin over onto his stomach and pulled Adin’s
jeans and shorts down. He leaned in, placing his face at the
crest of one of Adin’s ass cheeks, playfully nipping the skin
there.
“Oh,” Adin breathed, as Donte found the cleft of his
buttocks and used his face to part the folds of flesh there. Adin
relaxed, giving him the access he sought.
“That’s right, Adin,” Donte murmured, making the sensitive
skin around his hole vibrate. “Open for me.” Adin arched and
slid, putting his head down and bracing his arms against one of
the larger pots on his porch.
Donte’s tongue slithered around Adin’s hole and entered
him, and Adin’s body quivered and tightened in response. He
could feel Donte, slicking his entrance and teasing at him,
getting him ready. This wasn’t their usual hurried, frantic
coupling. This was tender and sensuous.
194 Z.A. Maxfield
“Donte,” Adin begged.
Donte kissed his way leisurely up Adin’s back, then tugged
up and pulled on Adin’s T-shirt until he could get it off one