The Vampire's Angel (33 page)

When the door opened, Xavier collapsed into Maria’s arms. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t. It’s led to this. Maria, save me.”

“Good heavens. What happened?”

“Listen to me, please. I need your help. My sexual urges led to this horrible mess.”

“Xavier, what happened to you?”

“I—I was looking for Thomas, I wanted to leave with him but it’s all wrong.”

“Did he do this to you?”

“I—” Xavier stopped, paused, then continued. “Of course not. It was a mob. They knew I was a priest and attacked me. I was looking for Thomas, that’s all. God’s punished me for my sins. I must never see Thomas again or I risk greater retribution. Please help me.”

He had lied. Even after this he protected Thomas, so Thomas cried harder, more ashamed of himself than ever before. His only love cast him out yet still sheltered him from criticism when seemingly far away from his brutality. Why had he turned into a thug against that gentle being? What was his problem? If only Anthony would treat him as brutally in retaliation.

“Maria, help me. I beg you.”

“If you can’t accept yourself, then you can’t see Thomas anymore.”

“I know. I won’t.”

The words stung.

“If you won’t address your physical needs then you can’t speak about it. Forget everything that we talked about, you need to suppress the feelings entirely.”

“There’s nothing I want more,” Xavier answered.

Thomas had hated himself even as his hand struck the abbé’s face. He had heard the cheekbone crack as he struck it, and now Thomas felt impotent to do anything.

But with Xavier safe, Thomas had to leave. The sound of his voice, so lost and distant, jabbed a stake through Thomas’s heart. For the first time in his life, Thomas could not make this better. Xavier did not want to see him and that was the end of it, so Thomas crept back into the street and wandered.

Xavier’s words to Maria distressed Thomas more than ever. He had considered leaving with Thomas. But Thomas’s rage spoiled everything. As Anthony and Anne warned, he had ruined his relationship.

With his stomach an empty pit, Thomas hated himself and humanity. He despised the world that made this situation and blamed society’s prejudice for bringing him to this miserable point. True, he had much guilt, but so did everyone else. If they had allowed Xavier to love his true self, none of this would have mattered.

But that wouldn’t solve the problem in Thomas’s soul, would it? He had to get control of his anger, his loneliness and anguish. He had the obligation to change, the rest of the world wouldn’t change for him. He failed at every turn, always looking for excuses or someone else to blame. He knew that, too. So why did he continue with the behavior?

He was miserable. “Anthony...what should I do? Anthony?”

Nothing but silence.

His ire built. He stalked Paris, daring anyone to cross his path. One minute he felt under control and wanted to change, and the next he returned to anger and hatred for the world around him.

When he passed down a narrow sidewalk, barely wide enough for two people, the other man enraged him by brushing against his coat. Without thinking and in one swift motion he broke the man’s neck, then with one arm held the man up and slurped some of the blood.

He regretted the act immediately. This man had done nothing wrong. He had violated the ethic. Would the elders hunt him down? Why was he so out of control? Why didn’t they just show up to kill him?

He hurried to his flat, running faster than ever to get away from everyone before he did something else. He locked the doors and closed the curtains, alone, still irate, but at least away from people.

He was such a fool. What was wrong with him? He deserved whatever punishment Anthony inflicted. He should die. But that was too easy because life without Xavier was unthinkable. He deserved worse. He needed to suffer.

Thomas hated himself, then he hated the church, then he hated love, then he hated humanity, then he simply hated.

He tried to focus his thoughts when some woman started chattering outside his window, sending him into a complete rage. She laughed and carried on, obviously drunk, talking to every stranger that happened by. She parked herself on a nearby bench, though her volume made it seem that she sat on Thomas’s couch.

“’Ello, Monsieur. Aren’t you a handsome one.”

“Shut up, you stupid whore,” Thomas shouted out the window.

“Well, good day to you, too. What’s your problem?”

Thomas slammed the window and launched himself outside. “I said to shut your mouth, because that loud, annoying voice is driving me mad, you stupid bitch.”

“I think you better just—” she started to say.

Thomas, in no mood for negotiation, clutched her throat to kill. As he tightened his grip, something attacked him from behind. The blow to his back was harder than anything he had ever experienced. The force caused him to release the woman and fly across the street where he slammed into a brick wall. His back felt as if it broke into a thousand pieces. Thomas regained his composure and looked for his enemy, but it was not an enemy who picked the woman up.

“Leave if you know what’s good for you. Run. It’s the devil himself who’s after you.”

Anthony had her running down the street before Thomas moved. Despite his anger, Anthony’s reference to Satan sent Thomas into hysterics.

Anthony turned on him, glaring. “Yes, positively hilarious. I can’t think of anything funnier than your antics this evening. I saw you kill that man earlier and stayed away because I wanted to crack your skull open. I followed, however, and watched to make sure you could control yourself at home. But that was too much to ask, wasn’t it? How can you so flippantly disregard what I taught you? What’s wrong with you?”

Thomas sobered and returned to despair, meekly following when Anthony yanked him off the ground and pulled him up the stairs into his apartment. Anthony practically threw him onto the couch. He walked behind Thomas and slapped his head.

“You’re a barbarian.”

“Who’s acting like a barbarian, hitting me on the head?”

“Thomas, stop the games.”

“Fuck you and your rules.”

Another slap, this one harder. And, finally, Thomas reacted with sorrow instead of anger. In a matter of minutes, he retold the entire tale to Anthony. He explained how he tried to control himself but worrying about Xavier consumed him, making them fight. Then he described in morbid detail his assault, how Xavier threw Thomas out of his life and fled to Maria, which had prompted Thomas to scream for Anthony. But before he came to Thomas he witnessed the death of an innocent man and interceded only to save yet another life.

“Lecture me all you want. Tell me that I’m not worthy. Send your council against me. I’ve failed, miserably so. Kill me, please. End my loneliness. It’s the only way to protect the world.”

“Thomas, get control of yourself,” Anthony said calmly.

“You called me the devil. So punish me. I want to suffer as much as I hurt him.”

“You’re not making sense.”

From complete fury a minute ago, Anthony became calm and rational, a kindness Thomas did not deserve. He wanted pain and torment. He hated himself. Since Anthony refused to play executioner, Thomas would do it.

He bolted across the room, picked up a sword, and hacked off his left hand. That easily and quickly, his hand lay on the ground, forever severed as a constant reminder of what he had done to Xavier. Completely crazed, this made him feel better as blood poured over everything.

“Stop it, you idiot.” Anthony sprinted over, grabbed the cut hand, took Thomas’s arm, and held the unattached hand to its former location. Vampires had amazing healing powers, but this was beyond Thomas’s imagination. Slowly, and with a great deal of pain, the hand reattached to his arm. He had function and the wound closed in minutes, though still sore. He looked at his fingers, once again wiggling them, in astonishment.

“Will you please stop this insanity? You’re not alone. Yes, you wrought it. Yes you were terribly wrong. But don’t give up on me. Or yourself.”

Thomas hugged Anthony tightly. After a long moment, he released Anthony and returned to the couch. He put his head in his hands, then whispered, “What can I do? I tried.”

“Thomas, maybe now you’ll listen to me. Slow down. Think before every action. Your patience needs to be more consistent. Think about the implications of things before you act. Can’t you see what I mean?”

“I’ve always understood. It’s just hard.”

“Well, now you’ve no choice, do you?”

“I guess not.”

Anthony took over and made him promise that he would not approach Xavier, admit that their relationship was over, and that only Xavier could rekindle it. As much as it hurt, Thomas agreed. Then he had to pledge not to interact with any humans without Anthony’s approval. Again he agreed. He desperately wanted to reform his ways and obey Anthony, but the excruciating pain remained.

His abbé. Gone. That would sting for years.

“Finally,” Anthony said, “you’ll remain in Paris with me and watch this revolution, because it’s a distraction. And you’ll not go on your own until you’ve convinced me that you’re under control.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Thomas said dryly.

Anthony grabbed Thomas’s face and kissed him on the lips. He stared into Thomas’s soul.

“You won’t go to him? You promise? It’s too dangerous.”

“I promise,” Thomas said.

“I love you, Thomas. We can get through this if you work at it.”

“I will.”

Anthony stayed until he had to retreat from the advancing sun. They talked about a myriad of things, thankfully staying away from topics that were too painful.

As the light came, Thomas lay in his coffin. It was strange that he felt good again. He would get through this, he promised himself. Of course, the ache in his heart remained, Xavier was still there. Thomas loved him still.

19 July 1791

WHAT ON EARTH did he want, Catherine wondered. She allowed only Jérémie, Xavier, and Marcel to come to her unannounced. She intentionally left Michel off this list just to irritate him, but this morning she discovered a side benefit. She had time to prepare herself before Michel strode into the room. She sat behind her desk. She liked a physical barrier from him, bracing herself for his onslaught.

“Catherine, listen to me. This is no longer a little game that you can play.”

No greeting, no hug, just orders. “I’ve heard your concerns before,” Catherine said as calmly as possible, “and I disagree. There’s nothing that we do here that challenges any government, not the National Assembly nor Louis’s. It’s an open forum. And security is tight. Of course, based on the inability of the king’s army, you may not understand that it’s possible to safeguard the innocent.”

“That’s unfair. It’s a little different to try to secure all of France and simply protect a renegade operation in a mansion.”

“Well, you’ll either need to terminate this renegade operation or leave me alone.”

“Damn it, I’m trying to protect you. Do you honestly believe that you’re insulated from the fighting? Why would you think that the ragtag band of men who watch this place could ever stop an advancing mob? Catherine, listen to me.”

Catherine stood behind the desk and pounded the top with her fist. “I’m not an idiot nor blind to the danger. It hangs in the air. But I won’t abandon Paris. Even in revolution, this is my home. When all of the wealthy people packed up their fine china and fled, I stayed. I’m not one of them. This is my duty and I’ll not leave. So get out of this house unless you can appreciate our differences.”

Michel turned his back and took a deep breath. She was frozen, leaning against the desk and staring at him, just as her father did to lord over people and make his point.

Slowly, Michel faced her again.

“You act rationally? You have command of yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Then explain Marcel.”

“Leave me alone.”

“You worry all the time about Xavier,” Michel said. “You’ve even admitted that you worry about me. Why can’t I worry about you? I’ve bitten my tongue long enough. Marcel’s a complete fiend and a coward. He hides in America while his fiancée stays in Paris. When he braves his home soil, he’s in disguise and here to profit.”

“You don’t know the first thing about what he does.”

“I saw the letter on your desk from him. So he wants his name on the Saint-Laurent fortune? I saw what he said about me in there, and Xavier. I can’t believe you would listen to someone who said such vile things about our brother.”

“He just needs to get to know both of you better.”

Michel clenched his fists. “Is that what he meant by ‘getting us out of the way?’ What kind of man is this?”

Catherine smiled, somewhat embarrassed. “He’s cute. Rather endearing, that he’s so human.”

“For the love of God, that makes no sense.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then it’s even more preposterous.”

She had had enough. “I won’t change my mind.”

“Pardon my intrusion,” Jérémie said and startled her as he entered the room.

“What is it?” Catherine asked.

He cast his tearing eyes to the floor, positively distraught. He was pale and shaking.

“Catherine, Michel, I—”

She had never seen him like this.

“It’s too much for me to stay around this place when you can’t get along. I came to tell you my decision, Catherine, but I’m glad that Michel’s here. There are other reasons, too personal, so I hope that you’ll respect my decision as it is. As you know, we’re having difficulty acquiring provisions. My family also requested that I visit them in London, so I’m leaving this afternoon.”

Michel and Catherine said nothing. Jérémie smiled meekly and bowed before slowly leaving the room. Catherine was stunned. She relied on Jérémie greatly and loved him. Had she pushed him away somehow? After a long pause in which neither moved, Michel turned to her, his face bright red.

“I’ll do everything in my power to block this marriage. I forbid it.” “Oh, shut up. You don’t control this family or me.” “I most certainly do.” “No, you don’t. I run it. I control our financial empire. You’re gallivanting about with that silly army, protecting a doomed king or whatever you do as you run around in peasant clothes, while I manage this house. It would crumble without me. And I comfort and protect our brother—”