The Vampire's Angel (13 page)

They walked again, halting once to greet some children who were playing in the street.

“What is it that you can’t tell the church?” she pressed. “What’s so grave that you suffer alone?”

Xavier hesitated before responding. “I harbor a secret that might defrock me. I can’t utter it to another soul, but it won’t go away.”

“I hope that you know by now that I’ll never betray you. You can tell me anything and it won’t change how I feel about you. Unless, of course, you’ve killed someone.”

“Heavens, no! But I have impure thoughts,” Xavier admitted in a rush.

“Sex?” She looked at him, eyes wide. “This is about sex?”

“Well, yes.”

“Just say it. I think I already know, anyway.”

“Why make me say it? I love him. The man you found me with that night in the garden. I’ve the most sinful longings for him and they won’t disappear. I pray constantly for strength and mercy, but the passion only increases.”

Maria chuckled, then sat on a bench. She was sweating profusely and breathing heavily from walking so fast. “Is that it? I always thought you were too sheltered, but this, this is beyond anything I dreamt. Stop fretting so much. Do you think that you’re the only one in the church struggling with this? You’d be surprised what goes on in this church.”

“What?” Xavier’s heart pounded.

“Do you think the nuns around you are blind? I know about your fellow priests who took a vow of chastity that doesn’t seem to apply to their relations with one another. Why don’t you hunt one down?”

“Maria!” Xavier glanced around. “How does this help me? I’m in love with a layman, someone who doesn’t even believe in Christianity.”

“Let me ask again. Do you think that you’re the only one who has these feelings?”

“The nuns feel the same way?”

“Of course. The church may segregate us, but women are people, too.”

“And you feel that way?”

“Yes,” Maria said. “You’re not alone. You’ve entered a very secretive world, that’s all, one that’s kept hidden. You can enter it. Listen, I know that it goes against our beliefs. But I also know that we all sin, and that this, which is about love, is a smaller sin.”

“Do you have a particular lover?”

“More than one.”

He gaped at her.

“Not many, but more than one and I consider all of them my girls.”

More than one? His mind reeled. “I don’t think I could have more than one. I love Thomas. For me, it’s about my passion for
him
.”

“You mustn’t do it. Promise never to tell him or anyone else about this. This is a private matter, within the church. Xavier, it always has been and it must stay that way.”

“But you have multiple lovers.”

“Within the church,” Maria stressed each syllable for emphasis before she stopped and looked at a family coming toward them. “Good Lord. We forgot the Gustavs—we’ll talk later. But you must keep this in the church. It’s a grave secret. Put this Thomas out of your mind. There are plenty of others around who’ll nurture you and treat you like a lady.” Maria laughed and within seconds transformed into her professional self.

Xavier, on the other hand, had a difficult time hiding his confusion. It had felt good to confide in her, yet her little fiefdom of nuns and priests, running around in the dark, held no allure. He had known that such things existed. He had seen it in seminary a hundred times and heard the rumors about rural priests who served the same parish together for years and years and lived in the same dwelling with the church’s dignity sheltering them from prying eyes. Xavier had resisted this, but with Thomas his heart had changed.

Xavier was thankful for the distraction because it took his mind off Thomas and his other worries. He and Maria had to administer a baptism that the rest of the church refused because the mother became pregnant prior to the marriage. He and Maria joked that they had a hidden church within the Catholic Church. Xavier could immerse himself in becoming this bridge between the church and his people, something that made him forget his own anguished love if but for a little while.

8 June 1789

MICHEL’S NOTE THAT morning had sent Catherine into a flurry of preparations. First, he had announced his imminent arrival and that he required a room. She had the servants prepare his usual bedroom. And though he never revealed any secrets, Michel hinted that things had escalated between the Estates General and king, which prompted the army’s mobilization. This hardly surprised her, since she heard angrier and angrier denunciations of Louis when she went to the salons. She also worked this morning to protect the family legacy. She hid family heirlooms in secret rooms, passages, and cellars, and planned to move their financial assets out of France, possibly to America.

As she raced around a corner, she almost ran into the head butler. “You frightened me, sir.”

“Sorry, Madame,” he answered.

“What is it?” she asked, seeing his expression.

“Mr. André is here to see you.”

“Blast. I completely forgot.” She smoothed her hair as she walked down the stairs into the entry hall. “Marcel, I forgot about our appointment. Please come in.” Before he spoke, she pulled him into the parlor and pushed him into a chair.

“Catherine, slow down,” he said dourly. “What are you busy with?”

“Michel announced that he’s coming home soon.”

“Oh, joy,” Marcel drawled sarcastically. “I can’t wait to see him again.”

She ignored his comment. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’d love a glass of wine but I refuse to drink alone. Join me.”

She poured wine and handed him a glass.

“I see that you moved a few things,” he said and pointed across the room.

She looked but saw nothing unusual, so turned back to him and smiled. “No, nothing in here.” She took a sip of wine and noticed that it strangely bubbled but tasted delightful. Her head swam. Marcel was absolutely radiant. No man attracted her as he, who made it difficult to maintain decorum.

“So, what brought you today?” she asked, feeling giddy and aroused.

“Nothing in particular. I had business in the area.” Marcel stood, came toward her, and hovered, creating an indescribable thrill.

She leaned closer to him. “I love your visits. What type of business brought you all the way to this side of town?”

“Disagreeable work. I had to curse a customer,” he said.

“Curse?” She looked at him, puzzled. What did he mean by that?

“Yes. He refused to pay for goods that he ordered. It was the second time. I’m stuck with these items in my shop. They’re dreadful. No one else will ever buy them, and so he saddles me with their uselessness. I warned him that this time I wouldn’t take kindly to his dumping stuffed bats and the like on me. So I cursed—”

“Bats? Dead bats? How odd. And what did you mean by cursed?”

Marcel smiled, too sweetly, and bent over and kissed her on the cheek. “Nothing to worry about, merely part of my trade. If you must know, I have certain, shall we say, connections in the new world. They traffic in a religion peculiar to that area that they call voodoo. Things like bats and snakes play a part in their rituals, but they also become a novelty among certain Frenchmen who think it funny to display them.”

“That’s repulsive,” Catherine said, wrinkling her nose and imagining a stuffed bat in the parlor.

“Well, they’re not very charming to hang about the house, I agree.”

“But you haven’t answered my question. What did you mean by curse?” A spike of warning pierced through the little fog in her brain. “Do you practice this magic?”

He waved dismissively. “I dabble in it. Nothing important, nothing to worry about, just a small potion here and there for good fortune.”

“And the curse?”

“Funny girl. It was just an expression. I went to collect my money. Now get these thoughts out of your head.”

She giggled, feeling silly that it frightened her. “Can you forgive me?”

“A million times.” He chucked her under the cheek.

“Well, do me one favor. Don’t tell Xavier about this hobby. I don’t think he’d appreciate it much.”

“If I never had to see either of your meddling brothers again that’d be fine, so you needn’t worry.”

She frowned, suddenly irritated that he’d speak that way about her siblings. “You could try harder to get along with them, especially Xavier. He means a lot to me.”

Marcel paced the room as if plagued. Catherine had seen this morose mood before, and she disliked the blank expression on his face.

“Michel is a nuisance,” he finally said.

“Did you threaten him? He says that you did.”

“He lies just to try to drive a wedge between us.”

“I agree. Let me handle him.”

“Fine, but you’d best watch the little abbé, too. You trust him too easily.”

“Really, Marcel, are you jealous? You’re completely wrong about Xavier.”

“If he were so good, he wouldn’t bring that vile Thomas into your home. They’re both disgusting.”

“Enough. That’s enough of your ranting. I won’t take it. Just leave. I told you before that I don’t want to be with you when you descend into these dour moods.”

She escorted him to the door as he followed slowly but regretted her tone the second she closed the door. She had acted mean-spirited and could he forgive her? She raced through the house and onto the balcony. He had only reached the bottom of the steps when she called to him. “Marcel, Marcel! Wait. Forgive me?”

He looked up at her, smiling, but the gesture almost chilled her. “Of course. Don’t worry. I am feeling churlish today. I’ll come by when I feel better again.”

12 June 1789

THE DARKNESS SURROUNDED Thomas and Xavier. It always did by the end of a night together. Xavier had taken Thomas to dine with Catherine. They had a pleasant dinner and then walked the bustling streets, talking about a thousand unimportant things.

Thomas avoided mention of their relationship, though he often wanted to throw Xavier against the wall and kiss him until he submitted. Instead, their conversation turned to religion, and Thomas wanted to make his point more clearly.

“Sometimes our theological conversations make me uncomfortable,” he said.

“Why?”

“You talk about helping other people and guiding them to a better life, which I find admirable, but what about you?” He glanced over at Xavier.

“Nothing fulfills me more than seeing them happy. I’m called to serve them, so I do.”

“You don’t understand. What I mean—what I want you to consider—is yourself. Don’t you ever think about what this does to you?”

Xavier stopped. “It doesn’t matter.”

“That can’t be right,” Thomas said.

“Why not?”

“Abbé, you never even give yourself so much as a glance. It’s unwise to place all your energy on the world around you without stopping to realize what you want. I know you mean well, but you can’t always be a martyr and sacrifice your whole life for others. And will that yield? Why isn’t it fine to stop and enjoy a day for the things that make you happy?”

Xavier slowed his pace and Thomas saw his tears. His heart broke, so he wrapped his arm around the curé and cursed himself for pressing him.

“I upset you,” Xavier whispered.

“No, never.”

“I can’t worry about myself. I don’t know how to change. I do try to make you happy. I thought that by spending my time with you I was self-indulging.”

“Xavier, listen to me.” Thomas gave him a light squeeze. “It is a way, and of course you’re trying, and I don’t want you to completely change in one night. Just keep thinking about it.” Thomas then held Xavier, who allowed the embrace. “Forgive me for causing you anguish. You give yourself enough worry and guilt without my adding to it. I wanted to help because I’m concerned about you. Only promise that you’ll seek my help if it ever becomes unbearable. Will you promise?”

“What do you mean?” Xavier whispered.

“I’m afraid that your lofty view of humanity will some day break your heart. And you can’t deprive yourself of joy forever. I doubt that humanity can maintain your high expectations. You see redemption in everyone. You depend on it.”

“But it’s true,” Xavier said.

“That’s what concerns me. There are people who will harm others for no reason, who will take advantage of your good will for their gain. The other night, did you honestly think that man intended to steal food? That you could bring him into the church and change him after he drew a knife on us?”

“Yes.”

Thomas sighed, frustrated. “But he wanted to kill us. He had no qualms about stabbing a priest for money.”

“Why does that make him entirely evil?” Xavier retorted, stubborn. “He probably has had a horrible lot in life and given the opportunity—”

Xavier’s obstinate behavior irritated Thomas so he cut him off. “This is what I mean. You place humanity on an impossible pedestal.”

Xavier wept again, saying nothing.

“Enough for tonight,” Thomas said, relenting. He led them silently back to the church and stopped outside the door, still angry. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Thomas motioned Xavier through the door and left, refusing to even turn and look at the priest as he fought to control his temper.

He headed to the river and watched the rats and people. It interested him to see what ventured into these darkened parts. Across the way he saw an army general paying for sex. People fascinated him. With his power and wealth, that man could have sex with almost anyone he chose and in virtually any location. Yet he hovered under a dirty bridge with an average maiden, exposing himself to the world. Amusing.

Around a bend, Thomas came upon a troop of boys in the shadows. One of them, probably a sixteen-year-old or so, solicited him when he came close, a false earnestness about his cherubic little face and bright blue eyes. He wore tattered clothes but was bathed to please his patrons.

“I’m not interested,” Thomas said, brushing him off. But the boy persisted. They had gone out of sight of the others and yet still he followed, so Thomas turned to him. His beauty enchanted Thomas but he was not game for a kill. This one had never harmed others. They slid behind a building and the young one nuzzled up to Thomas. His lips on Thomas’s neck felt divine. Thomas reached and felt his thin shoulders as he moved his mouth down Thomas’s throat.