The Vampire's Angel (23 page)

“What about yourself?” Thomas asked.

“Myself?” Xavier nervously moved farther away from Thomas.

“Yes, yourself. Would you castrate yourself for sexual impulses?”

“You know that we’re celibate,” Xavier said curtly. He scrambled into the house and backed away from Thomas, shaking.

“Relax,” Thomas said once in Xavier’s private room. Xavier always guided them here or to his room at the church when their relationship scared him. “I’m sorry. You’re safe with me.”

“I know.”

Xavier flinched when Thomas put his hand on his shoulder. Thomas felt the tension in his muscles through the black robe. He squeezed gently as Xavier slumped into a chair, then leaned over and kissed the top of Xavier’s head.

“What do you want me to say?” Xavier whispered.

“Only what you want to say.”

“Then you know what I feel?”

“I think so,” Thomas answered.

“I know that my actions betray my real feelings. I never pretended that they didn’t. I love you. I desperately love you. But I made an oath to the church and these people. It can’t be as you wish.” Xavier was crying and shaking, his agony more evident than ever. “Thomas, it’s not you. Forgive me for leading you to this. But I do love you.”

Xavier collapsed into Thomas’s arms and buried his hands in his black coat. He clutched at Thomas, drawing him near. Thomas held him tightly without saying a word with tears of blood running down his cheeks. When Xavier went limp, Thomas wiped hurriedly at his face, then looked into Xavier’s eyes. He wanted to say a million things and a thousand arguments waited for release, but he knew their futility.

Instead, he held Xavier’s face tightly and leaned forward as Xavier trembled in his arms, closing his eyes as Thomas’s face came closer and closer. Gently, Thomas kissed Xavier’s eyelids, the right and then the left. He moved his mouth across Xavier’s nose, pecked the tip of it, and lightly brushed their lips together, not a full, passionate kiss, but enough to make his point. Then he let go with his heart in complete turmoil.

Xavier swayed back and forth.

“Get some rest,” Thomas said. “I’ll return tomorrow and you’ll dictate the terms of our conversation and interaction. I promised from the beginning to respect what you needed.”

Thomas glanced into those pleading eyes. Xavier finally shook his head and smiled weakly.

“Good night, Thomas,” he said.

“Good night, my abbé.”

As he reached the door, he turned and saw Xavier leaning over the back of a chair, watching him heave like a distressed lover. Yet, even in this saddest of moments, Thomas swooned at Xavier’s beauty, perhaps even more so in his sorrow.

“I love you, too,” Thomas said.

12 July 1789

THOMAS CLOSED XAVIER’S door and raced outside the salon after telling Xavier he loved him and leaned against the stone wall—no, he fell into it, unable to support himself or think clearly. His head drooped to his chest and he grabbed at his hair. So this was love. This is what it meant to cherish someone desperately. This was the pounding people described in their hearts.

He knew now that infatuation had blossomed into a pure love. True, passion remained and sexual longing blinded him, but if he could suffer through this twisted courtship, then he really loved the priest. Anyone else, in any other situation, would have garnered Thomas’s scorn, especially if the other man’s expectations differed so drastically from his. With Xavier, it only revealed the passion for humanity that so endeared him to Thomas. Blood flowed anew from Thomas’s eyes, onto his shirt and all over his hands as he wept.

In his mourning, he didn’t see the person who approached. By the time he reacted, Anthony’s fragrance practically surrounded him and when his friend pulled him away from the wall and into his arms, Thomas yielded completely.

They walked silently back to Thomas’s flat. Once there, they sat opposite each other. The tears had stopped and Thomas felt stronger, more himself, though confused. His feelings were knotted. He truly was not angry, yet a pit in his stomach ached with dread even as his determination to overcome the obstacles increased despite the frustration that it took so long. Then why the tears?

Thomas remembered when he twirled Xavier in the air near the Seine, when he had wanted to capture the priest and run. The abbé’s beautiful smile burned into his mind. Then he flashed back to Xavier in the chair earlier that night, his eyes closed and his body yielding.

As he reveled in this anguish, he suddenly realized that Anthony had watched, concealed in the room. It irritated Thomas. It was impossible that Anthony happened by chance upon him, which meant that Anthony had peered from the darkness during this most private moment with Xavier.

“You spied on me,” Thomas accused him, voice rising in anger.

“Your incessant temper won’t help anything.”

“You came to Paris to help me, not lurk in the shadows.”

“And was I to assume that you told me everything? Was I to trust that your emotions, clouded with love, revealed all that I needed to know? You still lose control of your anger, we both know that. I wanted to see Xavier with you, and you with him.”

“So you spied.” Thomas lowered his gaze, sullen.

“Yes. I concealed myself in the salon. How was I to know what was about to occur? I assumed that I’d merely see one of the many nights that you described to me.”

Point taken. But still, Thomas remained irritated about Anthony’s actions.

“Are you done brooding?” Anthony asked after a few more minutes of silence.

“You should’ve warned me.”

“I didn’t. I apologize. But I can’t help you if I don’t know. Now can we forget this?”

“You won’t do it again?” Thomas asked.

“If you want my assistance, then accept unconditional terms. Besides, if you can move beyond being offended, you’ll appreciate what I have to say.”

“Well, tell me.”

“First, you’ve described the situation to me accurately, remarkably so. I’d feared that you were blinded by your passion for Xavier. But it’s obvious that he loves you.”

“Then you see it. You know that it’s true, our love?”

“Calm down. I said that I know you love each other. But there are other considerations because I also know that you stop thinking at that point. Let me finish. I was also pleasantly surprised, and again shocked, that you didn’t try to force the issue. You’re amazingly patient with him. In anything else you’d force the situation.”

“But?” Thomas asked testily.

“But you think that these things guarantee success, and they don’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You need acceptance, of one’s self and the situation around him.”

Thomas fought to control himself. Since the day he met Xavier, he worked diligently to acknowledge reality and stay patient, waiting for Xavier. Anthony even said that he was doing an admirable job, yet he badgered him about acceptance.

He launched out of the chair and paced in front of the window. Paris at night, such a perfect setting for this complete wretchedness. It was damp and misty. Darkness consumed everything. Even the lanterns were lost in fog. Yet underneath lay an indescribable beauty. He loved cities, with their tall buildings and masses of humanity, the constant energy and persistent bustle of activity. A perfect analogy for the potential for love buried beneath a miserable façade.

He rapped his hand against the window, his torment mounting. Finally, at the bursting point, he smashed his fist into a table. It shattered. The top broke into a million fragments that flew across the room, its lamp burst into pieces as the oil leaked everywhere. More maddening, Anthony sat motionless and ever more composed.

“Acceptance?” he bellowed. “Patience? Everything you tell me, everything that these damned rules dictate, relates to controlling me, for me to understand the reality of being a vampire. It’s all about the collective good of vampires and humans. What about me?” Thomas pounded his chest. “What about me? What about my suffering?” He glared at Anthony. “Fuck society. You and all of these rules can go to hell. Look at what the constraints have done to Xavier. He’s the most delicate man I’ve ever known, but he suffers because the things that he feels inside are forbidden by society, the church, the government, by everyone. And why? For nothing, that’s why. There’s nothing that men loving men harms. There’s nothing that vampires threaten! Yet all these men who seek to control and to expand forevermore their grip on people refuse to act rationally and instead proclaim inspiration from God, that somehow they know more about faith and truth than everyone else. This is preposterous, yet it’s poisoning my existence and stifles my love. And what advice do I get? Be patient, be calm, wait for things to change.”

His fist went through more wood, this time a shelf along the wall, spilling its contents.

“And you—” he pointed at Anthony. “You don’t help at all. You taught that vampires were no different from everyone else except that their blood gave them eternal life. You promised that none of the ancient teachings against us were true, that only evil vampires fit the myths, that the undead were no more uncommon than evil people, and that the elders executed them if they stepped beyond acceptable boundaries. Well, let me tell you something about our commonness: I despise it. I wish we came from Satan. I could wander the earth as a pernicious demon forever, wreaking havoc, frightening people, ripping off their heads simply because I could. I could do it all alone, with no thought of friendship or companions. If only the church had it right,” he said bitterly. “I could be a perfect devil. Instead, I’m damned to feel like a human, to want the same things in this life that I longed to find in the previous. Yet in the midst of it all, as I finally discover my truest love, vampire ethics, irritating invented rules, condemn me. So spare me your comments on acceptance. I’ve heard enough.”

Thomas clutched the back of his couch, unknowingly ripping the fabric with his nails. And there sat Anthony, like a Greek philosopher. Or, rather, more like a Greek statue.

As always, Thomas fell further into dismay. He spoke his true feelings of deep rage, yet he dishonestly used the words to injure those he loved. Words flowed too easily out of his passion, causing more pain as he hoped that the objects of his wrath could forgive him yet again.

“Finished?” Anthony asked, still calm.

Thomas did not know whether to say yes or punch him in the face.

“If you are, perhaps you’ll listen as you promised and not lash out.”

Thomas seethed.

“This is exactly why I commanded you to listen,” Anthony began. He got up and stood inches from Thomas.

“Leave me alone,” Thomas said.

“No. I listened to you, now you do the same. You’re correct. This isn’t about society or the ethic. This is about you. All about you. Your temper and impatience. I know, you’ll insist that I dwell on them too much, you’ll assert that you’re working on it, every day. And I know you are. But you haven’t conquered them, and this little display is the ultimate proof—”

“Then banish me from your presence, because I do the best I can.”

“Let. Me. Speak.” Anthony enunciated each word with deadly seriousness. “Will you please sit down and hear me? For God’s sake, Thomas, if you don’t realize by now that I love you and am on your side, then you’re hopeless.”

Thomas forced himself to sit. Anthony immediately sat next to him and grabbed his hand.

“Your temper is the only thing that can derail this. What if Xavier sees this? What will happen if you can’t control yourself around him? He’d shrink away from you forever. He trusts you completely, but this would poison your love.” Anthony turned Thomas’s head toward him after he looked away. “Do you know this?”

“Yes,” Thomas answered. Dear God, what if Xavier had witnessed his display?

“Do you see that it’s worse when you’re in love? It’s ironic, stranger than anything else about you, you become more volatile when you love someone.”

“I know, Anthony, I know. But what can I do?”

“Slow down. Allow others to help you, especially me. And let this develop over time. I know that it sounds too easy. But that’s all you need. Control yourself, Thomas, and let me help.” Anthony paused. He got up and walked back to his chair. He started to sit but instead crossed his arms. “Xavier loves you. And you’re patient with him. These two things, along with your love for him, are all you need to make him a companion. I’m willing to help because I know that.

“However, before your tirade, I tried to warn you about the one threat to everything. You must accept the possibility that Xavier may never change. He’s deeply committed to his religion, for better or worse, and you want him to not only accept his sexuality but also understand vampires. Those are both gigantic leaps for someone like him. There’s a good possibility that you may fail. And you can’t proceed in a reasonable manner without knowing this in your heart.”

All along, though unspoken, Thomas had known this is in his heart but was too frightened to say it. Speaking it might make it real. So he kept it to himself, even while knowing that it led to his bad behavior. He sought promises of victory in a climate that assured nothing but love.

“That terrifies me,” Thomas said. “You’re right, I get angry because I can’t be certain I’ll win. Is there even a possibility?”

“Not if you go alone, but together we can try.”

“But how can I control it?”

“By thinking before you act. Try to see things from Xavier’s perspective. Think what he thinks, not what you want him to think. And, when those conclusions go someplace you don’t want them to, don’t force him to change. When it becomes too much and overwhelms you, come to me. Don’t try to do it alone. Allow yourself to be vulnerable.”

Anthony ended the night by hugging him, a simple but wonderful gesture that gave Thomas the strength to face another night, which is all he hoped to do—to face this one hour at a time, one feeling per moment, with all the strength and forbearance he could muster.