My Vampire and I Vol 3: Blood Resurrection (9 page)

Completely under his spell, and in love with the city, I was easy prey for Darius, and again, I have to be honest and say that his lovemaking was not repugnant to me—far from it.

 

Not as tender as Marcus, Darius could be demanding and at times rough in his dominance.

Once, he hurt me badly, despite my protests and urging him to stop. Afterward, he was remorseful and apologised over and over for his coarse behaviour, and I was only too eager to forgive him—then. Of course, eventually I came to realise that what I felt for him was not real but was induced by the magical powers he had inherited from the Wizards. When we were apart, his allure lessened, and in those moments of clearer thought, I began to wonder why on earth I associated with the enemy of my most treasured friend.

My decision to leave him came after one evening when we hunted together for the first time. Vampires, by nature, prefer to hunt alone, unless they are partnered. Some are even territorial, threatening those who would encroach on what they perceive as their terrain. This particular night, though, found Darius and me leaving a club in Paris—Le Petit Mal—

frequented only by vampires.

 

As we walked through the Tuillery Gardens and I admired the lamp-lit beauty of the park, he remarked that he had not fed that day. His eyes glittered as he spied a young man walking towards us.

“He’ll do,” he muttered. He moved so fast, the young man had no time in which to react. Using his supernatural speed and strength, Darius lifted him from the path and carried him into the bushes. I followed and was surprised to see the young man fending off Darius with some well-practised boxing jabs. Instead of subduing him quickly with his hypnotic powers as Marcus had taught me, Darius stood there laughing at the young man, dodging each punch with his vampire skill.

“Darius,” I murmured, wondering why he played this game.
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“Look, Bernard.” His voice had a grating, mocking tone that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “He thinks he can best me. What should be the price of his arrogance, do you suppose?” Suddenly, he stepped forward, grabbed the young man’s wrists and forced him to his knees. His victim whimpered from the pain. I heard the bones crack, and he screamed out.

“Darius!” I lunged forward to stop him. “What are you doing?”
“Stand back, Bernard,” he hissed at me, his fangs extended. “This little man needs to be taught a lesson—”

“Stop it,” I cried, pulling at his arm. “You’ll have the gendarmes upon us.” He backhanded me, sending me staggering against a tree. Then before I could intervene again, he pulled the youth to his feet and tore out his throat with one vicious, rending bite. I stared, appalled, as he sucked the young man’s blood and chewed on the soft flesh of his throat. When he had done, he let the lifeless body slip from his grasp, then turned and smiled a macabre and bloody smile at me. I shuddered with horror and repugnance. Not at the sight of the blood or the shreds of flesh that clung to his teeth and lips—I am a vampire after all.

No, my spirit balked at the sheer unnecessary waste of life.
“Why?” I asked.

“Because I can,” he replied, his eyes filled with a sinister cruelty. With that, he raised himself into the air and was gone, leaving me alone and unsure if I should follow.

I did not.
* * * *

Not long after that night, Darius asked me to spend my life with him as a member of the Dark Forces, and immediately I knew what my answer must be. How could I ever look Marcus in the face again as one of his mortal enemy’s minions?

 

“No,” I said flatly, and without emotion. Anger flared in his eyes at my refusal. “I am sorry, Darius,” I continued, “but the price of such an affiliation would be more that I could ever afford.”

 

“You mean it would cost you your precious friendship with Marcus, don’t you?” he sneered. “Perhaps he would consider it a good riddance.” Blood Resurrection

I sighed and shook my head. “Why would you say so petty a thing? Marcus and I have been friends for decades.”
“Familiarity can breed contempt, Bernard. Have you not ever wondered why he stays away for such a long time?”
I sighed again. “I know why he is gone for long periods of time, Darius. He is needed in many places by those who love him.”

It was then that I realised the immense differences between him and Marcus. Marcus was revered and loved by his followers. Darius was feared by his, not loved, nor did he have any love for those he had seduced into following him all those years before.

 

Reading my thoughts, his face hardened with distaste. “You would give up all that I offer you, for the love of a man who gives you nothing?” “Marcus has given me more than you ever could ever imagine,” I replied coldly. “He gave me life when death was ready to claim me. He was with me through the change, guiding me into this new life, ensuring I survived the dangers that can claim a young vampire.”

“While he filled your head with his addlepated philosophy about being gentle with mortals,” Darius sneered. “About not hurting them when you feed.” “A philosophy many vampires have adopted as their own.”

“Bah!” He turned from me in rage, then as swiftly looked back at me, his face once again serene and composed. “Bernard…” His voice was silky smooth. “You know how much I care for you.” He reached out and drew me into his arms, kissing my lips gently. “Come with me, I beg you. We can have a marvellous life together. All will look to you as my second-in-command. You will be revered, envied—”

“But not loved, Darius,” I interrupted, trying to steel myself against his charm.

 

“I love you,” he murmured, pulling me tighter into his embrace, his hard arousal rampant against my thigh. “I will give you everything you desire. What more can you ask?”

“A truce with Marcus,” I said. “An end to this hatred you have for him.”
“And will that then secure you by my side forever?”

“Forever? Nothing is forever, Darius.” I stepped back from his embrace. “You think that your love for me will last forever? What of all the others who have gone before me? Did you not swear to love them also, forever?”

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His face darkened again. “I am offering you what no other has been offered! Take care, Bernard, that my love for you does not evaporate and become hatred. I make a very bad enemy.”

 

“That I know. Marcus has told me—”

 

“Marcus…Marcus… Must I hear that name again from your lips?” He grabbed me by the arm and brought his face to mine, his eyes burning with power—

power to make me his willing slave, to bend my mind to his will, and be forever his, until he tired of me and cast me aside like he had done with so many others. Exerting every ounce of strength I had in my mind and body, I fought him. He growled with anger as he felt my resistance. His eyes burned all the brighter, searing my brain with their intensity, making my mind collapse into uselessness. His vampire power, honed over hundreds of years, enhanced by the magic the Wizards had given him, was too much for me overcome. I fell into his arms, an unresisting vessel with which he could do anything he wished.

“Now, Bernard,” he whispered against my ear. “Now you will be mine.” I don’t know where my ability to thwart him came from. Later, I would ask Marcus if he had somehow known of my plight and had entered my mind, giving me the strength to defy and challenge the spell Darius had cast over me. Marcus, of course, denied it, telling me it was all my own doing—but suddenly from deep inside myself I felt a power surge through my blood.

“No!” I roared, breaking free of his embrace and his thrall. “I will not join your band of renegades, Darius. My allegiance, and my love, will always be with Marcus!” Darius stared at me hard and long, his face first a mask of disbelief then one of intense contempt. “So be it,” he snapped. “You have chosen, and I will not ask again.” For a moment, I thought he intended to summon his magic to kill me in the most painful way possible. I knew he could, and I would be powerless to prevent it. He knew it too, for I saw his eyes flicker with the intent, then he turned from me with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Go to your beloved friend then,” he rasped at me. “But know this, Bernard. I will never forget nor forgive what you have done here today. Should our paths ever cross again, I will not be so magnanimous. And when you do see Marcus again, tell him what you have cost him—a truce, perhaps a peace, with the Dark Forces. Tell him that, and see how he Blood Resurrection
regards you then!” And with that, as if to prove his powers were greater than any of ours, he disappeared from my sight in the blinking of an eye.

I stood immobile for several minutes, my mind in chaos. Had I, by rejecting his offer, ruined any chance of peace between Marcus and Darius? Could I have changed the course of our vampire history?
Only time will tell,
I thought, calming myself then, came the thoughts I longed to hear in my head, strong and clear.

Marcus.
Yes, Bernard. I was privy to your encounter with Darius. You chose wisely, my friend.
Forgive me, Marcus.

There is nothing to forgive. You must not reproach yourself for any of this. Darius used his magic to bewitch you. Your own strength sawyou through, and you must knowthat he would never have kept his part of the bargain. A truce with me? He would never countenance it. He was lying, and you sawthrough his pretence.

Where are you Marcus? I need you near me, now.
I am at our home in Toulon. Meet me there.
At once…

It never ceased to give my heart a small tug when he referred to his chateau as our home. It was just one of the reasons for which I loved him so much. For which, I still love him.

 

I have to admit to a momentary twinge of regret at the news of Darius’ death sentence.

Darius, for all his evil ways, had an allure that was hard to resist, and the thought of his death, of his virile and vibrant life being cut off, was not something I could find pleasure in. I would not tell Joseph this, of course. He was understandably enraged by what Darius had tried to do—take his mortal lover from him by force. Nor did I mention my regret to Pietro.

He would never have understood my sympathy for the demise of someone as devious as Darius. Sometimes, some things are best left unsaid, and all thoughts of them should be blocked from those minds that could reach them.

 

* * * *

 

Some months after the news of Darius’ death, Marcus invited Pietro and me to visit him in his home in Los Angeles. Pietro had never been to the United States, and I had only been Blood Resurrection

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to New York while Marcus lived there many years before. So it was with some excitement that we accepted his invitation.

It was wonderful to see Roger looking so well and now so thoroughly at ease with his vampire life. Joseph and I had a joyous reunion, and it was a source of real pleasure to see his obvious happiness with his forever companion, Micah. It seemed Joseph had told Micah all about our adventures together, for he greeted me with great warmth, telling me how grateful he was that I had saved Joseph all those years before. He had been changed, but recently, and was still coming to terms with all that it entails, but it was heartening to see the love he and Joseph had for one another.

I was struck by just how close Micah and I became in such a short time. Was it the blood we shared? I wondered. But then, we had all shared Marcus’ blood in one way or another, especially Roger. And while I felt a fondness for him, I was moved to an almost brotherly love for Micah—a familial tie of some kind.

Jean-Claude I had met only once, and that a hundred years ago in New York, yet he told me he remembered my visit with fondness. His lover, Ron, was still mortal, but very much at ease amongst us.

 

Pietro found that amazing. “How does he cope?” he wondered aloud later, when we were alone, at dawn, in the sumptuous guest room Marcus had provided for us.

“Very well, I thought,” I replied, turning down the comforter on the bed.
“But it can’t be easy, knowing he’s the only mortal in the room.”

“Marcus says he has family issues,” I told him. “His brother visits frequently and sometimes unannounced. It would be a disaster if he should find out about Jean-Claude.” Pietro nodded. “I can see that would be a problem, but still…”

“They manage as best they can, Pietro. They are very much in love, as are Joseph and Micah.”
“Love conquers all, eh?” Pietro gave me a sly smile.
“As well you know.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, pulling me into his arms. “I’ve known it for over one hundred years.”
“And they said it wouldn’t last!”
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Laughing, we tumbled into bed then fell silent as our mouths had better things to do than talk.
* * * *
The following day, the news on the television and in the newspapers was astounding.
Pope Dies in His Sleep
, the banner headlines screamed.
Pontiff Laid Lowby Mystery Virus
.

Pietro threw me a worried look. “What does this mean? Should we go back to Rome?” I shook my head. “We’ve seen several Popes come and go, Pietro. They’ll elect a new one, and life will go on.”

“But he was Pope for such a short time. What do they mean by ‘mystery virus’, do you suppose?”
“Just that. He might have picked up something on his visit to Africa.” Marcus joined us in the dining room. “You’ve heard the news?” “Yes. We were just talking of it,” I said. “What do you think of this ‘mystery virus’
they’re giving as a reason for his death?”
“I don’t like it,” he muttered. “Something feels wrong about this.” He stared at Pietro.
“You look concerned, Pietro. What are your instincts telling you?”

“Like you, I don’t like it at all,” he said, glancing at me. “There were rumblings from some corners when he was elected. I know there’s a lot of jealousy and power playing whenever a Pope dies, but he seemed an unpopular choice from the start.”

 

“That’s true,” I agreed. “Still, it could be just a coincidence that he’s out of the way already. Now I suppose whoever thought he should have been elected last time, will put forward an even stronger claim.”

“Anyone we should know of?” Marcus asked.
“No one springs to mind,” I replied. “Pietro?”
He shook his head. “Cardinal Firenze, perhaps, but it could be anyone, really.”