The Vampire's Angel (22 page)

“Marcel, that’s enough. The same with you, Jérémie. If you could give us a moment?” she asked.

“Of course.” With a final dark look at Marcel, Jérémie retreated from the room.

Catherine handed Marcel his wine and took another big swig after Jérémie left. She smiled sweetly and sat near him. “I know that you’re jealous, but you can’t chase Jérémie away. He’s like a brother to me.”

“Catherine,” Marcel said, “would you like some medicine?”

“Yes. These headaches only go away with it,” she answered and handed him her glass. He plopped in a small blue substance from the bag of medicine that he had brought her and the wine fizzled. She had resisted the first time, but Marcel explained that lots of women in the Americas took such drugs, and Catherine loved such exotic things. She smiled as it flooded her body with warmth. Soon after, the wine took over and she wanted Marcel, even more than ever.

Catherine approached Marcel and kissed him lightly on the cheek, then moved to his lips and grabbed his body. He let her lead as she guided his hand onto her breasts.

As she completely yielded, lost in his magnificent manhood, authoritative steps in the hall signaled Michel’s approach. She gathered her senses and pushed away from Marcel and ran behind the desk. As she straightened her dress, Michel marched into the room, always the commanding general.

“At your service,” she said.

“I’m delighted to see you, too, Catherine. Is the house entirely secure?”

“As far as I know. What is it?”

“Rioting.”

She assessed him. “Michel, what is it really?”

“I told you, the rioting.”

“That’s not all. Enough with the secrets.”

“I came to see that you were safe,” Michel said stiffly. “So shout at me again, Catherine, scream about your independence. There’s a mob one street over breaking into homes and stealing food. My regiment is combating them, and I was worried about your safety. Good day.”

Catherine felt awful about treating her brother that way and did not want to deal with Marcel any longer. But feeling obligated, she started to ask him to dinner when she had another interruption.

“Catherine, forgive my intrusion, but is Xavier here?” Thomas asked. His absolute confidence enticed her—not sexually, but in a deeply emotional sense.

“No, Xavier sent word this afternoon that you’re to meet him at the river. I suppose that you know what this means, because I don’t.”

Thomas laughed. He came across the room more gracefully that any man she knew and kissed her hand. “Was ever there such beauty combined with cunning and humor in all the world?”

“Perhaps Cleopatra,” she said.

Thomas almost responded but instead turned toward Marcel. Catherine felt an increased tension the minute they made eye contact. Thomas quickly took leave, smiling kindly at her but glaring at Marcel.

“The other men in my life react so strangely to you,” Catherine said to Marcel after Thomas left.

Marcel grabbed her close to his body and said nothing in response.

10 July 1789 Late night

THOMAS RUSHED TO Anne Hébert’s door and whispered to the air, asking the spirits not to flee so that she would chat, which made him giggle. He was more carefree than last time he visited her alone, because the business at hand only related to him in a secondary way. He politely knocked.

“You again! Get in here, before someone sees your undead self at my door. Are you here to undo my magic again? After you left last time, why things were in a flurry around here, everything unsettled and angry. I finally gave up for the night and went around to the graveyards collecting supplies. I suppose I’ll have to do that again tonight now that you came.”

Thomas waited for her to finish complaining. Then, “Only you can help me in another matter.”

Anne stoked the fire and turned back to Thomas. “I thought I told you I wasn’t making any love potion so you can stop asking me. You think coming ’round here every night will make me obey you, but it won’t. Forget it. No, no, no. You need to bring him over slowly, on his time, not on yours. So just turn around and go about your business.”

“I’ve developed an infinite amount of patience. I love Xavier but am willing to wait ’til the end of time for him to come to me.”

She looked at him, almost surprised. “What romance. You’re the strangest one I’ve ever known. If I was Xavier, I’d run away with you in a second and become your princess. But you can’t come here to ply me with stories about your aching heart. I get enough of that from Xavier. How’s your temper these days?”

Thomas ignored the last question, not wanting to foul his good mood.

“It’s not about Xavier—at least not directly—but it’s serious,” Thomas said.

“What? If not about him, what other common interest could we have?”

“Catherine.”

“Catherine?”

“Xavier’s sister. I’m afraid that she’s in a bit of trouble that only you can solve.” Thomas kept his arms crossed, prepared to argue his case.

“You’re doing it again, trying to put me in the middle. Maybe I want to stay out of more trouble, especially when it comes to rich folks. They don’t like my kind.”

“Please, listen to me. For Xavier’s sake.”

She pondered then smiled. “For him, not for you. You—we can be friends, but you can handle yourself just fine. Now Xavier, I’ve no problem giving him some help.” She sat in a pile of clothes and gazed into the fire. “Well, I’m waiting. I may die before you tell me.”

Thomas sighed. This Anne was an odd one, but he knew she cared about Xavier. He relaxed a bit into his story. “Catherine’s under a spell and totally unaware of it. She’s engaged to an insufferable man, who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. He’s even sent men after Michel and Xavier, and I saw him putting something in her drink. She changes around him and becomes giddy and almost blind to reality. I don’t know anything else but that the wine fizzes from the medicine and soon after, she swoons.”

“Yes, yes, I see.” Anne stroked her chin. “And the night you came storming in here and shoved the chicken bones in my face but left without another word, those came from him, too?”

“I believe so. What do you know about this?”

“Only what you’ve told me, but it’s plenty. Very obvious. Voodoo, or some deranged form of it, I’d say. Definitely New World. You don’t see much of that around here, except maybe in this room.” She winked at him. “Oh, yes, he’s in tune with it all right, but sounds manipulative, using evil to get what he wants.”

Thomas waited, but she said nothing further. “Is that it?”

“What do you want me to say? This is no good, nothing positive comes from his kind and interfering is dangerous. The quicker he’s gone, the better. So I’d recommend you get rid of him. Why did you need me to tell you that?”

“I can’t.”

She looked at him, clearly skeptical. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Do I look like I have trouble killing parasites?” he scoffed.

“So what’s different about this time?”

“I know you’ll laugh, but there’s a vampiric ethic I must follow, a protocol that protects us and conceals our identities. So I can pursue Xavier, but I promised to stay away from his family, at least insofar as it concerns interfering with their daily lives.”

Anne laughed again, a deep, guttural cackle. If only Thomas found it this funny. “Now this is too much,” she said. “You’re my introduction to the undead, and what you teach is funny. With all that strength, I expect you to storm around the earth, taking what you want, when and where you want it. Instead, you have some rigid code of ethics. Who would have guessed such a thing? Not even me. First, you’re madly in love with a priest but can’t bring him over. That’s funny enough. But now we’ve a fiend on our hands, yet you can’t do anything about it because of some ethic. And you can’t figure out why I think it’s funny?”

“There’s more. Marcel may have a spell on Xavier and others that would endanger them if I killed him. I can’t be sure and don’t know how to determine it. I need you.”

What would you have me do?”

“Anything to protect her. I care for her. She’s a dear person and doesn’t deserve this evil fate. More than that, it’s Xavier. It would crush him if anything happened to her.”

“Just wait a minute. I’m not sure what I can do. I refuse, absolutely refuse, to get into black magic. There’s enough evil in this world, enough people spreading that vile nonsense, that I’ll not contribute to more pernicious forces haunting us. I never use my knowledge for evil purposes. I simply won’t. There’s enough death and destruction.”

“Surely you can do something positive with regard to this matter?” Thomas pressed. He would have left her if not for wanting this for Xavier.

She was quiet for a while before responding. “Well, maybe.” She avoided his gaze, sat staring at the fire.

“For Xavier.”

Another long silence. Until finally, “I’ll look in on her. I promise nothing else. But give me some time and don’t show up tomorrow night expecting results.”

“Oh, thank you,” Thomas said, hugging her.

“Take your hands off me. I promised nothing. Now get going.”

Thomas kissed her lightly on the cheek. “You’ve no idea how much this means.”

“I think I can guess what it means, and I hope you never ask anything more personal of me or I fear the consequences.” Another hearty chuckle. “You got what you want, now be gone.” She shooed him out the door and into the night air.

The breeze whipped at his coat as he headed back to the Seine and away from this area’s stench. Euphoria swept over him when he saw Xavier standing alone, watching the waves hit the shore. People shouted nearby but out of sight. Quickly, he grabbed Xavier from behind and spun him in the air. The priest’s soft hair whisked across his face.

Xavier shouted in astonishment before Thomas put him down but maintained his hold.

“Thomas, good Lord, you scared me to death. What are you doing? What if someone sees us?”

“Abbé, what if I refuse to let go? What if I decided to steal you away under my arm?”

Xavier closed his eyes and his muscles relaxed. Thomas almost picked him up and fled, going nowhere but out of Paris and away.

Thomas lightly brushed his lips along Xavier’s neckline and let go.

“Can you forgive me?” Thomas asked.

“Every time. I mean yes, I mean—” Xavier suddenly understood what had happened and blushed. He hugged himself and turned back to the river. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

12 July 1789 Night

THEY HAD FIRMLY established their routine by now, and neither wondered whether the other would show up. Thomas and Xavier spent every night together, talking at the Saint-Laurent Salon as they did tonight on the grand porch, or meandering through Paris, as they had the night before. Thomas understood the spirit of revolution better than most of the French because he had seen it in America. As an observer of human society it intrigued him, but as a lover it terrified him. Each night he awoke to news about more rioting or attacks against the clergy, only finding comfort after he saw Xavier alive and well. Tonight, Thomas had feared something different when he met Xavier: exposure, because Xavier had asked him once again as they walked along the Seine last night to visit him during the day. Thomas became quiet when Xavier posed the question again tonight, which apparently unnerved Xavier.

“Never mind,” Xavier said abruptly.

“Tell me why you ask that of me.”

“Maria—do you remember her, the nun? She thinks it’s strange that you come only at night. She believes in ghosts and goblins. Anyway, none of that concerned me, but it did make me wonder if you were telling me everything.”

“What do you want me to say?” Thomas asked tersely.

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Never mind.”

Thomas, angry at himself, paused, clenched his fists, and took a deep breath.

“I’m not angry with you,” Thomas said. He walked to the priest and put one hand on each of Xavier’s shoulders. “I’m not angry. I come whenever I can, trust me. I’ll explain everything as soon as I can.”

“I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. I’m just jealous.”

“Xavier, for God’s sake, now you’re apologizing. I could never hate you.”

“Then may I ask you a question about your safety?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Your clothing.”

“My clothes?”

“You wear black. Always black. Have you considered that you need to wear the tricolours? Parisians are coming to expect it.”

Thomas laughed despite himself. The revolution hardly frightened him. Besides, these Parisians dressed like bad American flags, with blue, white, and red draped across their bodies.

“Did you forget that I’m an American? I’m the embodiment of everything that they want. All I need to do is reveal my nationality.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Xavier answered, visibly relieved.

”Do you like how I look in black?” Thomas asked to change the subject.

“Yes,” Xavier said and smiled at Thomas.

“You’re cute when you blush.”

“Someone might overhear.”

“Do you think it’s wrong for two men to compliment one another?”

“No. Of course not. You know what I mean.”

“Is it okay if they kiss?” Thomas pressed.

“Stop.”

“Pretend I’m not talking about us. What if it was one of your parishioners?”

“You know already that I hate the church’s condemnations.”

“So is sodomy permissible?”

Xavier fidgeted with his cross and looked around nervously. “I think that all sorts of sexual practices take place, and so long as they don’t harm anyone it’s not a problem. I can’t imagine castigating one of my parishioners because they did something with someone of the same sex, if that’s what you mean. I know that the Church condemns it, but I interpret things differently.”

Thomas sighed. Of course Xavier thought of his flock first. Here, again, was Xavier’s odd dualism. For others, he demanded respect and love. All moral precepts came after and were situationally based. But none of this applied to him as a person.