My Vampire and I Vol 3: Blood Resurrection (8 page)

“Revelations and Its Relevance Today,” he murmured. “What’s yours?”
“The Antichrist—A History and Resolution.”
“So he’s interested in the end of times. Perhaps he’s writing a book on it.”
“Perhaps…” I felt a faint prickle of warning steal up my spine.
“What are you thinking?” Pietro asked.
I gave myself a shake. “Nothing…” I didn’t want to voice my opinion of the man just yet. Why alarm Pietro needlessly?
“You’re very solemn,” he remarked, replacing the tome on its shelf.
I handed him the copy I had been riffling through. “That’s because we haven’t had any time together today.”

“Hmm…” His smile was enchanting. “We must remedy that, at once.” Once we were alone together in my room, Pietro said, “I’ve been thinking that we should get an apartment away from here so that we don’t have to skulk around in order to meet.”

 

“Has something been said?’ I asked.

 

“No, but some of the others have cast long looks at us now and then. I think they feel we spend too much time together, but whether they suspect anything other than that, I’m not sure.”

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“Then an apartment might be a good idea,” I said. “I don’t want to be removed from my position before I find the manuscripts I’m seeking.” “Oh? You haven’t told me of those.”
“No. Before you knew of my true self, I could not share that with you.”
“And now?”
“It is said that one Pope made a study of vampirism in order that he might find our weaknesses and wipe us off the face of the earth.” “And did he?”
“Well, we’re still here, Pietro.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I meant, find your weaknesses,” he said, sniffing. “And if he did, I shall want to know them so I can tie you to me for all time.” I smiled and kissed his nose. “You already know how to do that.”

 

“Hmm…well, what did he find?”

“That silver can harm us—chains, knives, any weapons made of silver can slow us down and sometimes prove fatal if the wound is not treated promptly. Silver causes infection in the blood and prevents the wound from healing by itself. There are remedies of course, but as I said, prompt treatment is essential.”

“Have you ever been wounded, Bernard?”
“Not by a silver blade, but I have been flogged and thrown into the daylight to die.” He gasped out loud. “Who would do such a thing?” “Many people, given half a chance.” I chuckled at his expression. “Vampires are not the most popular of species, Pietro.” “So, these manuscripts you seek…you think they are here, in the Vatican?”
“It seems the most likely of places.”
“But many books and letters have been lost or burned over time.”
“True,” I agreed. “But I have a feeling I may find what I’m looking for here, locked away in one of the deeper chambers.” “We could look, but we’d need special permission to enter the vaults.”
“Can we ask without arousing suspicion?”
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Pietro shrugged. “Why would they care if we want to pore over ancient documents? I’ll ask around to see if there is a problem with us entering the vaults. In the meantime, we need to find that apartment.”

“Just make sure it has good strong window shutters!”
* * * *

On the first night, we were alone together in our new apartment, Pietro and I celebrated with a bottle of fine Italian wine. Slightly tipsy, we made love in a most abandoned fashion, and I, showing off my supernatural powers, levitated us from the bed in which we lay. As we hovered there between the bed and the ceiling, Pietro clasped tight in my arms, his smooth naked body moving sensually under me, I asked him to join me and become as I was—a vampire.

He was silent for a long moment, and I was glad of that. I did not want him to answer in a rush of emotion or give the answer he thought I would demand. Instead, practical as ever, he tapped me on the back and said, “Put me down first…” Gently, I lowered him down onto the counterpane and lay beside him awaiting his answer.

“I have thought of this many times,” he said quietly, his hand on my cheek. “I know that if I do not, I will grow old and die, leaving you still young and vital with an eternity stretching before you. Chances are, you may meet someone for whom you care as much as you care for me—” He stilled the words of denial that sprang to my lips with his fingertips.

“That, of course, I cannot allow,” he said, with his beguiling smile. “May God forgive me for what I am about to say, but I cannot deny you this request, my love. Yes, I will join you in immortality, and in your eternal journey, for I know I will love you to the end of time.” I held him, crushed to me in my arms, and wept. I had taken his blood before, and he mine, but this time, as we consummated our eternal union, he knew that when he awoke he would be changed and he would see the world through different eyes. Every sense, every movement, every smell, every touch would be enhanced. Every single thing he had taken for granted in his previous life would never again be the same.

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In the years that followed, I was glad that he had agreed to be my forever companion, for the twentieth century in Europe became the most tumultuous and war-ravaged of any I had ever known. Of course, there had been endless wars before, but now the weapons that were used were so much more deadly, and the countless number of human lives lost was staggering. Had Pietro not come with me to the ‘other side’, he would have been conscripted into the Italian army and most likely lost to me, forever.

* * * *

Some years before the beginning of the twentieth century, Marcus had gone to the Americas. I had seen him but briefly after the devastating loss he had suffered when Thomas, his lover, was viciously murdered by the jealous Comte d’Arcy, but we communicated regularly. My powers of hearing the thoughts of others had become greatly improved over the centuries, and even vast distances did not impede my ability to ‘converse’ with Marcus when the need arose. For instance, I knew he had met and was mentoring a young vampire by the name of Jean-Claude Lepeltier, and much later that he had fallen in love with a mortal named Roger.

Roger and I were to meet in Rome, but only after he had become one of us. The terrible story of Thomas’s betrayal I found almost hard to believe. How could he have been so deluded into thinking that Marcus would forgive him for draining the life of the man he loved? I could only think that the Comte d’Arcy had exerted a tremendous influence over Thomas in order to compel him to undertake such a hideous act.

While we were all together in Rome, I made mention to Marcus of a concern both Pietro and myself had regarding the priest who used the archival library at the Vatican—yes, we still worked there. I can only suppose that it was because of the vastness of the Vatican that for the most part, we went unnoticed by the staff who came and went throughout the years.

But back to the priest—He had recently returned, the same handsome young man who had pored over the manuscripts of the ‘end of times’ so many years before.

 

He hadn’t changed one iota in all of those years. His hair was still dark, without a touch of grey, his posture still strong and vital, his eyes still bright and all-seeing. He was not a vampire, of that I was certain, yet he had somehow managed to defeat death. Even if the Blood Resurrection

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priest had been only in his thirties when first we’d seen him, he would now be at least that, plus a hundred. Marcus was intrigued and wanted to see the man for himself, and so I obtained a visitor’s pass for him. Of course, the priest did not show up while Marcus was there. Was he also able to read minds? I wondered.

“Tell me about him,” Marcus urged us, when we visited him one night, in the Lady Andorra’s villa, high in the hills of Rome. He sat on a couch, his arm about Roger who pressed himself so close to Marcus’ side, they appeared almost as one person. Pietro told me later that he was extremely touched by the obvious love they had for one another.

 

We related the story of how the priest had come to the Vatican over one hundred years ago, relentlessly studying anything and everything to do with the Apocalypse and the Antichrist.

“What we thought strange, Marcus,” Pietro said, “was that he made no notes. It was as if he could commit it all to memory.” “No mean feat,” Marcus murmured. “But what is even stranger is the fact that he has not aged. You are certain it is the same man?” “Absolutely,” I assured him. “He is using another name, of course. Father Dominick.”
“While before, he was Father Constantine,” Pietro said.

“Marcus, we are sure he means harm,” I said. “But to whom we do not know. His mind and thoughts remain closed to us. He most definitely has powers of some kind, but what he is, we cannot tell.”

“A demon, perhaps,” Marcus suggested.
“Could a demon masquerade as a priest?” Roger asked, his eyes wide.

“Demons are masters of deception,” Marcus replied. “And if he’s as powerful as Bernard and Pietro think he is, it would be an easy task for him. The fact that he didn’t show up at the library while I was there makes me think his powers are, if not demonic, at least supernatural. He must have been able to sense my presence and somehow cloak his own before we could detect him.”

“If he comes to the library again,” I said, “Pietro or I will let you know immediately.” Blood Resurrection

 

J.P Bowie
Chapter Five
Rome: Present day
Constantine

 

For many years I had visited the archives in the Vatican, disguised as a priest to collect the data necessary for my Master’s plan. I knew I had been noticed, and I knew by whom.

 

Two vampires had been watching me on my visits, and only recently, they had invited a third, a tall and handsome beyond compare vampire from whom I could sense extraordinary powers. I knew him by his reputation. He was legendary among his own kind and mine. Marcus Verano, one of the most powerful vampires of all. It was said that he should rule the Vampire Council, but he preferred to stay on the sidelines, going where he was needed, settling disputes among his people.

Of course, I avoided contact with them. Should they have discerned what I’m about, they would have tried to either dissuade me from my task or attempted to kill me. I was not afraid of them, regardless of their powers, yet felt it would be best if I did not frequent the library again. Besides, it seemed that the Master no longer had an interest in what my research showed. Lately, I had noticed a degree of arrogance in his attitude towards me and his other followers. True, one day, he would be the most powerful man in the world, and I suppose that with that power a fair amount of assurance is to be expected, but something about him worried me—or should I say rather, that my feelings towards him worried me.

Ever since I had met Gustav, ever since that first day when we had lain in each other’s embrace, I knew that my outlook on my future had been changed. Now, I was not so sure that what I was doing was right. What had seemed certain and inevitable—what I had been created for, had been groomed for, had looked forward to with unwavering anticipation—

now seemed…evil, and I knew in my heart that if I was to have a future with Gustav, I would have to forsake the Master’s plan for the fate of mankind. And therein lay my dilemma.

There was no way the Master would let me leave his service, at least not alive. Not only that, I could not ignore the possibility that he would also vent his anger upon Gustav.

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Without a doubt, my relationship with the man I loved had to be kept a secret. The thought of him being confronted by the Master or his minions made my blood run cold. I knew only too well what dire punishments they were capable of. The correct thing, of course, would be to stop seeing Gustav, to tell him our love affair was over. Yet, I found I could not do it, could not find the courage to tell him face to face what I knew would break his heart—and mine.

Bernard

Marcus and Roger eventually returned to Los Angeles, the young priest stopped coming to the Vatican library, and as time went by, I began to forget about him. More important was the news I had received from Marcus that our old friend Joseph Meyer was in dire straits, being held prisoner by the Wizard Brotherhood. By the time I could offer my help, however, Marcus had taken care of the situation, Joseph was released, and Darius, my one time lover, had been sentenced to death.

Ah, Darius…he affords some explanation.

Marcus had long ago told me of the Dark Forces, that band of renegade vampires led by Darius, a one-time friend of his, but who later became his arch enemy. It was a surprise to me therefore, when I came face-to-face with Darius for the first time. He was so very different from what I had imagined. Marcus had said he was fair of face, and in that he was right. But apart from his comeliness, the man had an allure that was hard to resist. I later found out that he employed magic to ensnare those he wanted – magic he had learned from the Wizard Brotherhood survivors, in exchange for their lives.

I have never been sure of why he pursued me so lustily, for I had heard it rumoured he preferred mortal men and women. But the taking of a mortal for a lover was against the Dark Forces’ laws—laws ratified by Darius himself, many years before. At first, I was flattered by his attention, drawn in by his beguiling smile and honeyed voice. He was careful not to malign Marcus in front of me, even though it must have galled him to know I revered the man he hated above all others.

For a time, close to a year, we travelled Europe together, and I have to admit that the time I spent in his company was never a hardship. He could be light-hearted on occasion, witty and extremely generous. In his more serious moments, he told me that the pressure of Blood Resurrection

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leading the Dark Forces and dealing with the petty squabbles some of his men would bring to him, could often become more than he wanted to bear. For that reason, he had found himself two secret hideaways where he could, for a time, rest and renew his vigour. One of these places was in Paris, the other in Berlin. He took me to visit both of them, and fine, luxurious places they were. When we were together, we spent more time in his home in Paris than anywhere else, and as every lover knows, there is no more romantic city in the world.