William (18 page)

"Kindest of all was a young monk named
Michael. In those days I slept very little, and would often sneak
up to the bell tower at night to study the stars, which was my
substitute for reading, before I knew any letters. Michael found me
there in the tower one night, but rather than scold me, he asked if
he could join me. As it turned out, he had trouble sleeping, too.
We spoke of the stars for a time before we went back to our beds.
And the next day he had me appointed to attend upon him. Life
improved tremendously.

“Michael was strict and solemn, but had a
keen intelligence and a heart for charity. And unlike the others,
he drew no line of value between the clergy and laymen; he was
quite radical, in many ways, though I suspect I was the only one
who knew it. By night he would call upon me to help him review his
studies of herbs and their properties in the bell tower. He taught
me my first letters there, by the fire in the little hearth there.
Those were happy times for me, the only happy times I’d ever
known.

"But back then, as you may know, King Henry
and his Church of England had declared war on the monasteries.
During my years as a lay brother, they fell en masse to Cromwell’s
inspections. Our house was left unscathed at first, deemed virtuous
enough to escape dissolution, but it was only a matter of time
before the hammer fell upon us. I wasn’t ignorant of that
likelihood, but I never imagined how horrific it would be. The
dangers of politics were beyond me. There was a land feud involved,
and a vindictive lord who earned enough sway with the authorities
to finally take us down.

“They arrived with the usual list of
unspeakable charges, and herded up the lay brethren to cast us out
in the street while they arrested the monks who had been singled
out for petty revenge. I was shocked to hear Michael named among
them, and tried to reach him in his room, but I was beaten for my
efforts and dragged outside the doors. The last I saw was his face
in the back of the wagon. I caught his eye, but only for a moment
before they were gone. No one would say where they’d been taken.
Over the years I heard rumors that those monks were all hanged that
night and thrown into a bog on the lord’s estate. I also heard that
they were pardoned and found refuge in Cathedrals throughout the
country. One is as likely as the other.

“That was the end of all happiness.”

Merrick took a long drink of wine and then
held the glass up to the lamplight, absently examining flickering
reflection of the flame. Then he set it down on the side table
again and fixed his eyes vaguely on the carpet.

“That first night,” he said, “I roamed the
streets of London in despair, thinking of all the horrors that had
befallen priests under Henry's reign, the beheadings and the
burnings. I hadn’t yet heard those rumors of escape, and I was
hardly the type to dream something like that up for myself. I was
sure I’d never see Michael again.

"It was late November, and the snow was deep;
I had no coat, and my shoes were thin. I crept into an alley where
I pressed against the back of a hot chimney, and I stayed there
wondering how I would survive, whether I could make it even as a
beggar, now that I was no longer a child. And then at the end of
the alleyway, a priest appeared. He was strange. His habit was
slightly askew, and he was very tall, so much that his arms were
much too long for the sleeves of his coat, and his hands and wrists
were exposed to the wind. And his eyes were silver, almost white,
and they chilled me more than the cold night. But he offered me
shelter, and I accepted at once, hoping he would not expect
anything unseemly in return. I thought even if he did, I might
appeal to his pity with my story; he was a man of God, after all,
and perhaps if I begged, he would leave me alone to pray.

"I could not have guessed the horrors that
lay waiting at his house.

"He took me by carriage, which I thought
rather strange, for a priest to have his own carriage. And he
offered me a flask of cider, and there I was drugged, and woke up
bound in a cold and stinking dungeon, nearly pitch black, where
only by the sounds of the cries and pleas did I realize I was
surrounded by other victims, and that I was the oldest in age by
far.

“In that darkness I was forced to hear the
unspeakable acts of perversion he inflicted on these innocents in
his lair. There was no sunlight, no way to tell the time; only the
screams echoing off of those dripping walls, and the stench of pain
and fear. By the time he lit a candle I’d gone half-mad, convinced
I was in Hell. And then I had to see his grinning face in the
shadows and watch as he assaulted them and drained their blood, one
by one, before my eyes.

“At last he turned his appetites on me. And
just when I thought death had come, I found his blood coursing down
my throat. That was how I became a vampire. Why, I’ve never
understood. What drew him to me, what made him think I’d make a
suitable companion…” Merrick trailed off, his face gone pale and
haunted, and shook his head.

"But still he kept me in chains. I drifted in
and out of sleep, not even knowing that a new vampire’s sleep comes
with dawn and ends at twilight, and so not knowing how long it went
on. Time after time he would present me with some helpless thing,
some crying child, and time after time I resisted. But then my
thirst would overwhelm my mind and I would drink, and I’d come to
my senses to see him dancing over the corpse in glee. It was a
nightmare beyond all imagining. I learned to resist the thirst
longer and longer, until I thought I might succeed in starving
myself. But that was in vain, for when he tired of it he merely
forced their throats upon my teeth.

“And when he tired of that, he began to give
me his own blood instead, which eventually made me drunk and bent
me to his will. Before long he had removed the chains and I was
following him into the night like a slave, like an idiot, barely
seeing, barely feeling. Those years are a dark smear in my memory.
I can’t think of what I might have done under his spell.

"There's no natural communion among vampires,
other than the bond between new vampires and their makers. We do
not coexist peacefully. When we cross paths, we must generally flee
or fight. Young vampires are at great risk, because their blood is
unique, and has a potent scent that is very attractive. And they
lack the cunning and experience of older vampires. They can be
taken unawares. If you are ever away from me, William, and you
sense another vampire near you, you must come to me at once. And if
they are between us, you must flee for your life. Do not trust any
unknown vampire, not ever.

"We came across Theo in Italy, at his own
manor. I remember very little of the incident, only that there was
a vicious fight, and Theo killed the creature that had kept me
captive. But not before he was drained to his last trickle of life.
He begged me for my blood, and somehow I summoned the presence of
mind to give it to him. And so he was revived, and the demon was
dead, and I was lost in a daze, barely comprehending that that
nightmare was over.

"Theo carried me to his bedroom and laid me
to rest there, staying by my side and calling me his brother. He
took it upon himself to nurse me back to health, but he had no
conception of the cause of my condition. I’d been poisoned and
degraded for years by then, driven beyond madness, fed nothing but
that creature’s own blood, which was worse than being starved. I
was out of my mind. The only thing I had left in me was my refusal
to drink human blood, which was madness in itself, and was far
beyond Theo’s understanding. He couldn’t comprehend why I would
turn my face away when he brought me his servants. But finally he
coaxed me to drink from his own veins, and for reasons I couldn’t
understand at the time, I did.

"His blood was so warm and sweet, it shocked
my senses. The other vampire had sustained himself on terror, on
torment, on weakness, and his blood was tainted by it. My tongue
still sours at the thought of it; hard as I've tried, I've never
forgotten that repulsive taste. But Theo, Theo's blood was as warm
and tender as the manner in which he took his prey, and it soothed
me, lulled me. Though I was still numb and could not yet speak, I
felt as though my soul was finally raised from the darkness. He may
as well have been an angel.

“Of course, I had only ever known drinking to
be anything but an act of perverse savagery. My taste of Theo’s
blood was confounding enough. But then I watched him take a
servant's life before my eyes with such gentleness that my sense of
things was shattered completely. I nearly lost my mind again. From
there I could only yield to him. It was the first time in my life
that I'd lived in such comfort, the only time I'd been shown
affection since Father Michael had taken me under his arm. I had
nothing to do but follow his footsteps, and finally, for the first
time in my life, I began to drink and kill of my own volition.

“There was no return from that moment. With
that first drink I felt my own mind and soul come back to me at
last. And I was stunned to discover that it had been ten years
since I was taken to that devil's lair. A decade of poison.”

The oil lamp had burned down low and begun to
flicker slightly, but I was too stunned to do anything about it.
Not only that, but I’d be damned if I’d move an inch just then and
risk breaking whatever spell had fallen over Merrick and compelled
him to reveal all of this at last. Not in a thousand years had I
expected such a tale, and my heart was ravaged by it.

Faintly I remembered that the whole point of
Merrick laying all this bare was to help me understand how Theo had
earned his enmity. But based on what I’d heard so far, I only
wanted to lay flowers at the Frenchman’s feet. Had I really ever
called him a vile bastard, or whatever else? Shame on me, and shame
on me forever! I would write him an apology. I’d send him all of
Beekman’s finest silks. I’d certainly never wonder again how my
solemn Merrick had ever been his friend. Bloody Hell, thank God for
Theo!

“Is this all right?”

I blinked and focused on Merrick again. Was
he all right? He’d grown so pale and miserable as he recalled the
horrors of his initiation that I might have crushed him in my arms
if I’d not been frozen in horrified attention. Now that he’d
spoken, it was all I could do to figure out something to say in
reply. I went for honesty. “I’m spellbound. And I’m sorry.”

Merrick smiled faintly. “I’m sorry if I’ve
made you ill.”

“No, Merrick.” I shook my head, then sat up
and moved to sit by his side, where I could put my hand on his
heart and look straight into his eyes. “No.”

“Shall I go on?”

“Please. If you’re all right.”

Merrick nodded, watching me fondly as I
settled down at his side again, closer than before.

"Theo and I shared a bond from then on,” he
said. “We were nearly the same age. I learned he’d lost his master
only recently, and he was outraged by what I told him of my own
conversion and the creature he’d slain. Theo had a sensitive soul
in those days, a disdain for cruelty and a tenderness toward the
weak. And his charm was considerable. One couldn't help but be
taken in by him. And after what I’d lived, nothing could have been
more alien to me than Theo, in his Italian manor, with his
extravagant wardrobe, his opulent paintings and giggling maids, and
his warm generosity. I was dazzled by him, not to mention grateful
for all he’d done. And he was very fond of me. So we were together
from that point, roaming at will between Paris and Rome and Vienna,
wintering in Spain, mixing with royals and libertines alike.

“Of course, the more confident I became in my
senses, the more apparent it was that we were not particularly
alike in nature. There have always been differences between us,
between the way we comport ourselves in this life.

"Your thirst is a reflection of your
character, your perception of humanity. You’ve begun to learn this
for yourself. And so in character and in thirst, Theo and I have
always been vastly different. Even in the happiest times I shunned
indulgences, and I’ve never had much affection for others. In life
I had only admired the penitent, and pitied the destitute. So as a
vampire I was satisfied to prey upon the old and the weak. And to
end a beggar's life seemed merciful enough, to me, having been in
his place, myself.

"But Theo was insatiable for the young and
beautiful, the rich and fashionable. And I saw that he took great
pleasure in circling them, charming them. It had struck me as
tender, at first, the way he cavorted before he drank. And
certainly there was nothing cruel about it, not in the simple sense
of cruelty. But it began to strike me as frivolous, and careless of
him to prey upon educated and influential people with such delight.
When he caught my judgment he challenged me, saying it was all the
same in the grand scheme of things, whether we killed beggars or
nobles.

“Of course he was right. I still struggled to
reconcile my new instincts with my sense of right and wrong. Unlike
him, I could not make sense of myself without those old morals, and
I was desperate to distance myself from the despicable actions of
my creator. And so began my struggle to impose some code of
righteousness upon this life. I fasted, training myself not to
drink for days, and made amends by taking up the study of medicine
again, wandering by night to treat the poorest and the sickest.

“By and by I discovered the gift that comes
with this life, the intercourse with those divine natural forces
that we call magic or witchcraft. This will come to you, too, in
time. I found, as you've witnessed, that I had a new and unnatural
talent for healing, that I could coax the most miraculous curative
qualities from herbs and mixtures. I could save almost anyone, in
any condition. This allowed me to strike a kind of peace with the
killing, which I rely upon to this day.