their clothes as his ass tightened hot and fierce around Donte’s
dick, carrying Donte over the edge with him, until they both
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181
shook and jerked. He rocked against Donte slowly, milking any
sensation he could get from their bodies, and then slowly came
down, breathing hard against Donte’s neck, his face pressing in
for kisses and tiny licks of Donte’s salt-tinged skin.
“Mm, good…good vampire.”
Donte smiled as Adin got up to slip his jeans back on, but
remained silent and thoughtful while Adin tucked him back into
his trousers, pulling him close, loath to lose contact. He
continued to kiss Donte, licking, tasting, and teasing. He
unbuckled his belt from Donte’s wrists and released his hands,
then rubbed them briskly, although he could hardly imagine
why, except it felt good to share his warmth and breath and
skin. Bumping his hips against Donte’s aggressively, he helped
Donte back into his jacket.
“Behold, the power of the Amorous Academic; see me and
tremble.” Adin licked at Donte’s ear, still teasing, “You must
not be afraid, caro. You must see you are helpless against my
superior intellect.” He grinned and took a long, slow kiss from
Donte, who shook his head when he finally let him go.
“What are you?” breathed Donte.
“Just a man,” said Adin. “Just a flesh-and-blood, heart-stillbeating human. Someone who loves you.” Adin dared a look into Donte’s eyes at that moment and was sorry for it. He’d no
sooner said the words than he was dumped unceremoniously
onto the ground by Donte’s sudden rise to standing.
“What?” Donte demanded.
Adin froze, looking up at Donte, who seemed enraged. “I
love…”
“Don’t,” Donte spat. “Just stop it. You may mock me, but
not with talk of love. I have no place for this. I want no part of
this. Don’t you
dare
come to me with herb-scented hands and think for one moment…for one second… Just—” Donte raked
a hand through his hair. “Just don’t, Adin. I don’t regret that
you live. I’m sorry if you think that there can ever be anything
between us, but…” He gestured helplessly around him. “Don’t
imagine you could ever take Auselmo’s place. His shoes cannot
be filled.”
182 Z.A. Maxfield
Adin stared blankly at Donte as his words poured around
them both like a bloodred rain. Adin felt Donte’s anger but
didn’t fear it. It had nothing to do with him. He watched Donte
depart at a dead run, vampire-style. One minute he was there,
and then the next Adin was as alone as though Donte had never
existed. Adin picked himself up off the ground, then slipped on
his belt and shoes and readjusted his jacket. He took a turn
around the memorial park in a numb sort of way, noting the
different types of markers and the small tributes left by
mourners, indifferently revisiting the pain and panic of what
had become, arguably, the worst few weeks of his life.
Eventually he found his way to the gate and murmured a
polite good-bye to Michael, who let him out. If the guard
guessed at his mood, he didn’t show it. Adin returned to
Deana’s car and drove it to her small home, then parked it
carefully in the driveway just adjacent. By the time he found his
bed, he was convinced that everything his life had become was
merely a dream, and that in the morning he’d wake up and
hardly remember it at all.
From the quiet of the cellar I can hear everything that goes on here.
Somewhere above my head Renata still lives, and my sons. No light can
reach me here, and yet still I can see every creature, cobweb, and mote of
dust in the air. I care not. I try, time and again, to go over the things I
remember of the last day we had together, Auselmo, but the muddle in my
brain begins to simmer, and events either seem too real or not real at all.
I remember supper. It was a caustic affair in which Renata’s friends
engaged in their favorite sport, making all others at the gathering feel
beneath their contempt. They were, I saw, taking particular delight in
baiting your sweet wife. I felt your tension, saw her relief when you sent her
away with her women. I saw that you appeared heroic in her eyes, and that
she dreaded the evening to come. Numbly, I watched all of this as if it were
a play unfolding before me, holding out hope that in the end I could find
some way to save us all.
After the wine was served, you began to look distracted. That much I
remember. And then it gets confusing, for my wine as well, I think, had
been tampered with, and I sat stupefied as you began to sweat. Your face
seemed pale to me, and I thought, I must get him to his family, and then I
caught you by the hand and pulled you away from Renata and her friends,
but… Now when I think upon it, all I see are faces that are twisted and
shapeless. Gaping mouths and hard eyes and jeering laughter.
By the time we arrived at my private rooms, you were ill. Gasping for
breath. I called for the physician, and then the priest, but nothing could be
done for you. Nothing helped. I would not let them near you after that. I
was like an animal. I would have torn them apart with my teeth had they
touched you, so they eventually withdrew.
I said everything, did I not? I never stopped speaking to you, beloved.
Never stopped telling you what was in my heart. Dearest Auselmo, if you
can haunt me…walk with me now. I slip alone into the darkness without
you. I care for nothing. I held your body as it gave a last shuddering,
gasping jerk, and then…nothing. Your life, and mine, done, in a fraction
of a moment’s time.
184 Z.A. Maxfield
I refused to let you go. I prayed for my own death, and when Renata
and her lover Delporrino entered the room, I thought, yes! Here is the
answer; let them kill me. Let it be done forever. I begged them for it, for I
was completely unaware that there was something far worse than death
awaiting me at their hands. Renata’s cold eyes fixed on me as I held you in
my arms, and their cruelty only reassured me.
What a fool I was.
I welcomed death but imagined it could not be at my own hand, or I
should never have the faintest hope of seeing you again, my beloved. When
Delporrino came after me… He tore at me with his teeth, and… I hardly
recall what he did… I hardly cared as long as I could continue to hold you
in my arms. Eventually, I was unable to stay conscious, and when I
awoke…dear heaven…when I awoke, I understood where earthly man
receives his notions of hell.
^\
Outside the window of Adin’s tiny yellow cottage, the
blackness of night and storm swallowed everything except for
brief, brightly illuminated snapshots of his front yard, impressed
on him by flashes of lightning. The trees were bare and skeletal
against the sky. Adin let the white lace curtain drop back into
place. He picked up his drink and padded back to his
overstuffed club chair, back to the work he’d disappeared into
when it became clear he wouldn’t even be able to run or bike
today, much less walk to the grocery store for supplies. His
inability to return to the university for the fall term cost him
some respect with the dean. That he cared very little hadn’t
begun to worry him yet.
Time had passed slowly as he’d spent his days on the bike
trails and his nights translating the remainder of Donte’s
journal. He’d managed a routine of sorts, accomplishing the
purchase of food, cooking, and caring for his home on
automatic pilot. On days like this one, it felt warm and cozy, a
haven against the things he knew were outside waiting that he’d
never really seen before.
The fire popped beyond the ottoman where he rested his
feet, the only sound besides the terrible storm.
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185
^\
It was months before I understood the truth of what I was. In that time
I was truly and completely mad. I drifted between our world, Auselmo, and
the new world without you in an agony of despair. Sometimes I forgot for
minutes, hours even, that you were gone. I busied myself with drawing when
I could get hold of something to draw on. I discovered the stone walls of my
cellar prison could be marked with pebbles and begged these from my
keepers, a terrified husband and wife whose family had served ours for
generations. They would bring me things they thought might work
sometimes. They were very kind and only kept me chained when I tried to
harm someone.
There would be no harming myself. I was, it seemed, indestructible.
Slowly, carefully, over time I began to see what I had become, and the grief
it brought me as they procured people for me on whom to feed… I cannot
tell you. It was in those first few months that I still killed by accident. Over
time, I learned to feed without harming a human; indeed, I learned to give
them pleasure. I didn’t apply myself in any way, I
only…became…inevitably, inexorably, far from human. As far from the
human man you loved as can be conceived.
As time passed, I learned to live in darkness, feed without prejudice,
and disconnect myself from everything and everyone that made me Niccolo.
It was as if someone reached into my chest and removed my heart. Every
single thing about me changed, except my love for you.
Renata put it about that I was ill, a polite euphemism for mad, and
she was able to play queen of the castle for years without needing to sacrifice
herself or my holdings on the altar of enforced marriage to yet another man.
But I was learning what I was capable of, and Renata, for all her cunning,
was completely ignorant of the conflagration of hatred I had buried within
me, or the fact that my own confusion was fast evolving into a keen
intelligence and feral, predatory instinct.
I began to leave the castle at night to hunt. There was very little else to
do, and my keepers now were far more like friends and caretakers than
jailers. One night, I saw how much time had passed—something I’d never
considered. I was moving stealthily in the garden on an evening when
Renata was holding a masked ball. Several people were coming and going
from the stifling hal for fresh air, and I saw my son, now almost fully
186 Z.A. Maxfield
grown, dressed as Apollo. He caught a pretty girl to him for a kiss in the
moonlight, and I thought, All this has been stolen from me.
I found Renata that night and killed her. I felt nothing when I left her
lifeless body discarded like an empty skin of wine on the damp grass
beneath my feet.
^\
The outpouring of frantic phone calls Adin had received
when he first arrived home in early autumn had trickled to a
slow and steady once or twice a week from dear friends.
Concern had turned to a judicious silence, broken by upbeat,
friendly inquiries about the upcoming holidays. Deana
continued to call every few days, letting him know subtly that
she was certain other people had survived broken hearts and he
would too. Invitations were still coming from friends who asked
him to spend time in other parts of the world. Blind dates had
even been mentioned, which had placed Adin firmly on the
defensive.
As predicted, vampires were everywhere. Even on his
beloved island, he seldom went out without meeting the
searching eyes of someone who understood and acknowledged
the difference between the man Adin had been and the one he
was now. Adin knew he was marked, and even if he never saw
Donte again, that would be apparent to any of the undead
forever. He didn’t know or care how it worked. Like innocence
lost, he was without the ignorance that protected most men and
women from the predators that walked among them.
For all that, however, Adin had few problems. He enjoyed
the time off work, claiming health reasons backed up by his
hospital stay in San Francisco, and even after that excuse wore
out he didn’t choose to return. He was on unpaid leave
currently, until after the Christmas holidays, and he wasn’t all
that anxious to go back even then. He had nestled into the
couch cushions earlier to read a book, but read the same
paragraph over and over until he finally gave it up and picked
up the remote control to turn on music. Lately, he was listening
to a lot of Italian opera.
NOTTURNO
187
^\
It is widely rumored that my madness has resulted in Renata’s violent
death. After I killed his mother, my son ordered my jailers to keep me
chained. He looks at me with different eyes, and his younger brother fears
me too much to see me at all. As I write this, I wait for darkness. When
Renata first brought me here and installed me in the cellar, I was weak,
half-starved, and suffered from periods of delusion brought about by grief.
Now, I know these chains are toys that I could break, and my jailers more
fragile than butterfly wings should I choose to harm them.