My Vampire and I Vol 3: Blood Resurrection (10 page)

“Well, no point in trying to speculate, I suppose.” Marcus smiled as Roger came into the room. “Joseph and Micah are expecting us at their new apartment tonight.”

“I’ve got their housewarming gift right here,” Roger said.
“Housewarming,” Pietro repeated wistfully. “I had forgotten such things.” Blood Resurrection
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“Yeah, well Micah’s pretty new to vampirehood,” Roger explained. “He still thinks in human terms just as I did for some time after I was changed. It’ll help ground him some if we keep up some of the old habits for just a little while. Besides, I know Ron’s bringing them something, so I didn’t want to look cheap!”

Blood Resurrection

 

J.P Bowie
Chapter Six
Constantine

The summons came faster than I thought it would. The Master wasted no time after the Pope’s death was announced. He gathered his supporters around him, of which I, of course, was one, and told us he had already secured enough votes to be elected. I found myself wishing that his news would have made me feel better than it did, but instead, a dark dread filled my mind.

So,
I thought,
it begins…and it is over. Now, what do I do? Do I take the coward’s way out, and simply sever all communication with Gustav? Should I leave him wondering where I have gone, and what he did wrong, or do I face him and tell him we can no longer go on seeing one another? Either way, we will both be devastated.
Only the night before, we had lain in each other’s arms, swearing to love one another forever. A foolish promise on my part, for I knew that at any time I could be called away from him, but I meant it, nevertheless. And I so wanted to make it a reality.

There was nothing I could now do.

The Master would be declared Pope. He would use his charisma, his incredible power of oratory to sway the people to his side. Governments would fall, unable to control the people’s will as He did. Before long, he would rule the world, and the end of times would begin. Nothing could stop him now.

Nothing…
He called me to his side in his private room.
“So, Constantine, it begins,” he purred, his face a mask of satisfaction.
“Yes, Master.”
“Are you prepared to serve what I shall become—the most powerful being in the world?”
“Yes.”
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His eyes narrowed as he studied my face for a time in silence. “This young man you have been seeing…” His lips curled in a faint sneer of dislike. “You will end your relationship with him. Immediately.”

 

I stared at him, my mouth slack. Of course, he knew. My thoughts and those of all of us were as an open book to him. I could have blocked his probing, but that would have only aroused his suspicions and made me suspect in his eyes.

 

“I love him, Master,” I said quietly.

He sniggered. “Demons do not love, Constantine. You desire him, lust for him…that is all. Although your need for sexual release is understandable, love does not come into the equation. You know what you must do. Finish it today, and make sure that any future liaisons with mortals remain just that—brief episodes, quickly forgotten.” I found myself ready to beg him to reconsider, but his stone-like countenance told me all I needed to know.

It was over…and I was desolate.
* * * *

Gustav stared at me, his face white with shock, tears staining his cheeks, his hands balled into tight fists that he clenched and unclenched as if in agony.

 

“What do you mean, ‘it’s over’?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Why, Constantine, why? What have I done? Only last night, you told me you would love me forever. How could you change your mind so quickly?”

 

“I’m afraid that’s the part of me you don’t know,” I said, trying to sound glib and unfeeling. “I’m just a shallow fellow at heart. And you were wearing your heart on your sleeve when we met. I’d have been a fool not to take advantage of the situation, now wouldn’t I?”

He looked at me as if he suddenly didn’t know who I was, and I’m sure he did not. I stood with my hands clasped behind my back so he could not see them tremble. I wanted to reach out to him, to hold him in my arms and dry his tears with my kisses, but I could not. I dared not, or all that I feared for him might come true. I could not put him in danger. It was Blood Resurrection

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best for he to hate me now and get on with his life. Perhaps, one day, he might meet someone worthy of him.
“Constantine…” His whisper of grief tore my heart in two.
“Cheer up,” I said brightly. “We’ve only known each other for a few short months.
You’ve a lifetime to get over it.”
He gaped at me. “You bastard,” he cried and slapped me hard across the face.

That’s good,
I thought, as I pretended to reel back from the blow.
Get him to hate me as quickly as possible.
I waited until he had slammed the door to my apartment behind him before I allowed myself to weep.

 

* * * *

 

The days that followed were dark indeed. I should have been elated. Wasn’t this what I had waited for all my life—my true calling? Instead, I found every word the Master uttered now grating on my nerves. He seemed over-blown, unreal, in a way I could not understand. What had happened to my loyalty to him, the One who would lead the world into its days of glory?

He watched me sometimes through narrowed eyes, as if he had divined my doubts, but he said nothing, other than what was necessary to prepare for his ascendancy to the Pontiff’s throne. Every day, we were surrounded by cardinals and bishops, guards, reporter, photographers. It seemed as if all humankind had descended upon our once private and numinous world. The Master revelled in it, of course. This was what he had waited for all these years, and unlike me, he had no doubts about his calling. He took a certain delight in hearing himself called ‘the handsomest Pope ever’ and ‘sex-symbol in the Vatican’. He was handsome without a doubt—time had not ravaged him or lessened his charisma.

Cardinal Enrico Ferriti would take the name Pius, after the longest reigning Pope in history. “But I shall reign even longer, Constantine,” he told me with a feral grin. “Far longer than any living being—even until the end of days. This is what it’s all about Constantine—

power, real power. The power to change the world, change men’s destinies, change the way of things, forever.”
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I shuddered at his words, words that would have once given me joy. What had happened to me? Why did I now look on him as though he were my nemesis rather than my liberator?

As hard as I tried to push the answer from my mind, it came to me time and time again.
Gustav.

His face hovered in front of my eyes every minute of the day. The touch of his lips, the smile that made his eyes shine, the sweet way he would put his hand on my shoulder when we walked together. Now all of that was lost to me—and I found I could not bear it.

 

But why?

Demons are not supposed to have these deep feelings. Love does not come so easily to us. The monstrous side of us which makes us cold and uncaring of another takes love and compassion and makes those qualities seem insignificant. It should have made me impervious to sorrow. Hard as I tried to invoke that part of me, I could not. He had touched my heart, and the human side of me had responded to his loving nature. I loved him, needed him to make me whole, and because of my calling, he was lost to me, forever.

* * * *
Bernard
The time we spent in Los Angeles as guests of Marcus and Roger was indeed a joy.

They and their friends went out of their way to ensure we enjoyed all that the city’s nightlife had to offer. Still, the most pleasant times for me were when we were joined by Jean-Claude, his mortal lover Ron, Joseph and Micah. We sat in our small group, the eight of us, drinking wine and talking.

Micah, only recently one of us, but so in love with Joseph that he hung on his every word, was a delight. Still human in his mannerisms and given to bursts of spontaneous laughter, he was like a breath of fresh air in our sometimes too-long existences. I was happy for Joseph. He had suffered much in his lifetime and truly deserved the love and happiness he had found with Micah. The small intimate party they gave in their new apartment to celebrate their first year together was, for me, the highlight of our stay in Los Angeles.

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We were able to watch the consecration of the new Pope on TV. Pietro was puzzled by the choice, as were a number of people. Cardinal Enrico

Ferriti…not a name he or I was familiar with, yet from somewhere in my memory, Ferriti’s face struck a chord. I just could not quite place the where or the when.

Pietro saw him first. He gripped my arm and pointed. “Look, Bernard. The priest from the library, the one standing by the Pope’s side. Is it not him?” And it was. There was no mistaking the tall, young, handsome man who stood quietly by Ferriti as he blessed the crowd of well-wishers gathered around them.

“Marcus,” I exclaimed. “That’s the priest we told you about,” I said. “The young man who has been coming to the library for over a hundred years.” “He looks good for being over a hundred,” Roger remarked. “Is he a vampire do you think? Oh wait…” He chuckled softly. “Duh…he couldn’t be out in the sunlight if he was.”

“Not a vampire, certainly,” Marcus said, gazing at the young-looking man intently.
“But only part human…”
“And Ferriti?” I asked.
“Old…he’s very old.” Marcus frowned as he stared at the new Pope’s handsome face.
“Does he not look familiar to you, Bernard?”
“There is something about him,” I agreed. “The name, no, but the face…like someone I vaguely knew many years ago.” “Yes, I feel that too.” He paused, in deep thought, then he got up and left the room.
Pietro, Roger and I continued watching the news coverage until Marcus returned some time later, a sheet of paper in his hand.

“Look,” he said quietly. I took the paper from him and gasped at the image imprinted on it. “I researched old portraits of former Popes on the internet,” Marcus explained. “This portrait is of Pope Alexander who ruled from 1508 to 1511—”

“Such a short time,” Pietro remarked, looking over my shoulder at the man’s image.
“He looks exactly like Ferriti.”
“I am sure it is Ferriti,” Marcus said.
“Wow,” Roger muttered, his eyes straying from the image I held then back to the TV
screen. “He’s an immortal, then?”
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Marcus nodded. “He has conquered death by some means. I would guess he must have been in league with the Wizard Brotherhood…” “Those guys again,” Roger snorted. “Man, they’re really a pain in the ass!”

“Were,” Marcus corrected him. “Darius’ betrayal was the end of them, but they spread their knowledge of the dark arts to anyone they deemed useful. Ferriti must have some plan they approved of.”

 

“He’s waited a long time,” I said.

 

“For the end of days,” Pietro murmured, gripping my arm. “Remember, the young priest studied nothing else. The portents, the prophecies of the coming of Armageddon—”

 

“You mean the advent of the Antichrist,” Marcus said, looking grim. “Of course, what more powerful person to sway the minds of the people could there be than the Pope himself?

And if he has truly mastered the art of dark magic, there could be no stopping him.”
“But stop him, we must,” I said, jumping to my feet. “Pietro, we must return to Rome.”

“Wait.” Marcus put his hand on my shoulder. “If Ferriti really does believe himself to be the Antichrist, he must have prepared himself for every contingency. I am sure he will be heavily guarded, day and night. Look at some of the men around him. Do they look like ordinary priests to you? And we already know about one of them—half human, half demon perhaps. Ferriti has had a long time to prepare for this. Whatever we do, we must be as prepared.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked, seeing the sense of his words.

“We must gather as strong a force as we can. Three or four of us will not do. I will communicate with the Vampire Council and alert them to what might happen. You and Pietro should return to Rome. Find out what you can from inside the Vatican, and report back to me anything you feel is of importance. I will forward all the information to the Council and let them decide the next step. Do not try anything on your own, Bernard.” He paused and put his arms around me. “Promise me you will not confront the demon-priest.” I hugged him back. Of course, he had known of my intentions without asking. “I promise, Marcus. In my heart and mind, you are still our leader, and I will not go against your wishes.”

“Thank you for that, my friend. Now, for the rest of your stay, let us put this away and enjoy each other’s company!”
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Chapter Seven
Constantine

For as long as I had been with the Master, his indulgences could still surprise and shock me. It seemed he cared nothing for what others might think, and indeed, even his most outrageous remarks and actions were greeted with a kind of bland acceptance by the Vatican hierarchy. His powers had grown at an alarming pace, and it seemed he could bestow his will on any man or woman he deemed worthy of his attention. His physical personality was immense, immediately changing forever the way he addressed the faithful. The stuffy pontificating that the Vatican speech writers handed him would, after he had glanced at them, be thrown away, and he would deliver his message with a flamboyant eloquence that had his listeners riveted to his every word.

He preferred to bed women, but it had never been beyond him to use a man in this way if it benefited him. He could, to echo some ancient quote, charm the birds off the trees. Few, if any, stood up to oppose him, and certainly, no one dared a face-to-face confrontation.

International magazines, eager to give him rock-star status, spread his smiling image across the covers of their weekly or monthly issues, declaring that at last the world had a Pontiff who could really reach the masses and who could bring people, especially the young, back to the Church, excited to hear the word of God. If only they knew, I thought, flipping through the pages of the Italian
People
magazine as I sat in an outside bistro I had become fond of during my relationship with Gustav. The interviews Pius had so freely given were, of course, fabrications. Obviously, he could not tell the truth. The fact that this was the second time he had been elected Pope, the first being some five hundred years ago, might just cause a stir!