Vampire Vow Page 8

  "I thought the bodies they found had been there for quite a while. The killer probably has disappeared now."

  "Most likely. But he's worried all the same." Michael switched off the flashlight. His eyes had evidently grown accustomed to the darkness. He gazed at me in the meager light of the moon, his eyes bold but no longer full of loathing.

  "Do you plan to stay up there with them?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "No. Just to walk them to a house about half a mile from theirs so they can stay with someone. The man there's a big guy with a lot of guns."

  "I'll go with you."

  "It's quite a trek. Up by that radio tower." He pointed to the north, maybe three miles from the spot.

  "Good exercise," I said.

  We wound through the thicket, tree frogs and cicadas clamoring, probably in anticipation of the coming shower. Lightning seared the sky in the direction we were heading, followed by a crack of thunder.

  "Looks like we'll be soaked," Michael said, stopping to catch his breath. Guided by the flashlight's beam, we'd been steadily climbing toward a footpath.

  Once we reached the path the hiking was easier, though we continued to move up the incline, through heavy growth. Big drops of rain sifted through the branches and then poured from the sky. Even under the partial shelter of the foliage we got drenched. But Michael forged on, not the least bit hindered by the storm. His stride was big, his muscular arms steadily swinging. I thought he could wrestle his god if he wanted, like Jacob of the Hebrews.

  It took an hour and a half to reach our destination, a shack nestled in the thicket, not far from the path. No lights glowed in the house. The screenless windows beneath the shaky roof of the porch were wide open.

  "Watch your step," Michael said, whisking his light across gaps in the rotting planks of the porch. He hammered on the door with his fist.

  The white face of a little girl appeared at the window.

  "It's Brother Michael, Dora Anne," he said.

  "Ginny, Brother Michael's here!" The girl disappeared from the window and the door swung open. She was 5 or 6, with a missing front tooth, limp blond hair, and a pale face splattered with freckles. She hugged Michael's legs excitedly.

  "Brother Michael?" A girl of 16 or 17 appeared in a T-shirt and cut-off jeans, folding her arms as though she were cold. Her short hair was tousled from sleeping. "What's a matter? Something wrong with Daddy?"

  "No, no." Michael entered the cramped living room and I followed him. "He's just worried about you. He thinks you'd be safer staying with the Jacksons."

  "They ain't found another body, have they?" Ginny said.

  "I'm afraid so."

  Ginny shivered and lit an oil lamp on a shelf. The pale light washed over a table with mismatched chairs, a sagging armchair, and two mattresses on the plywood floor, where water had puddled from our shoes. "Gives me the willies," she said. "We thought that crazy man done took off. Sheriff and his men been patrolling the woods."

  "Did he cut off their heads?" Dora Anne looked up earnestly at Michael. "Ralph Jackson says he did. Then he stuck little needles into their body so they looked like porcupines."

  "Ralph Jackson's just trying to scare you, Dora Anne. You just don't pay him any mind." Ginny turned to me, suspicion in her eyes. "You a brother too?"

  "Yes. Brother Victor."

  She nodded as though she had her doubts. "We'll be just fine, Brother Michael. Ain't no need to bother the Jacksons this time a night. I got Daddy's shotgun here and I can use it."

  "How come you ain't never come up to see us before?" Dora Anne said to me.

  "I'm new at the monastery." The little girl roused my appetite. Perhaps I would go down to the city to feed, I thought. If enough time remained.

  "You wanna see a snake?" Dora said to me. "I got it in a jar."

  "You can show him another time." Ginny grabbed Dora Anne's arm as she started toward the back door.

  "Your father wants you to go to the Jacksons'," Brother Michael said to Ginny. "I think it's a good idea."

  Ginny nodded. "Well, if you say so, Brother. Just hate to put 'em out. And Dora Anne ain't got nothing but flip-flops for walkin' in."

  "I'll carry her," I said.

  Michael looked at me with curiosity, as though I continued to surprise him by my benevolence.

  "Yaaay! A piggyback ride!" Dora Anne jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

  We waited until the rain slackened before heading for the Jacksons'. Dora Anne chattered the whole way, tugging at tree branches, squirming excitedly against my back, despite her sister's reprimands. Once we delivered them to the family, at nearly 2 in the morning, we tramped back to the monastery.

  As I followed Michael, in answer to my question, he explained that many of the destitute mountain people chose to remain so far from civilization after the mines closed because of ignorance and fear of the city. And because of incestuous relationships they wanted to safeguard from the authorities. "I know one girl with three babies by her father," he said.

  "Surely the sheriff must know about it?" Following Michael's lead, I stepped across a large puddle.

  "He knows. But he also knows how life is here. The girl wouldn't leave her father if you paid her. And if they took her by force, she'd probably kill herself."

  "That's a pity."

  Michael reeled around. "You don't really mean that, do you?"

  "No, I don't. Do you think it's a pity?"

  Michael looked hard at me, despite the darkness. He could not make out my expression, but I could his, a gaze of recognition of an affinity between us. "There are worse things," he said and turned away.

  We made the rest of the trek in silence, me savoring our new intimacy, Michael no doubt pondering it. We spoke only to warn each other of a treacherous limb or gully. But when we reached the fringe of the forest, where we could walk side by side, he spoke again.

  "Thank you for being stern with Luke. I'm sorry if I misjudged you." He kept his eyes forward. "And what if you didn't misjudge me?"

  "Then you deserve even more credit for cutting him free." I smiled in the darkness, though he had spoken quite seriously. "Have you talked to him? Is he still desperate?"

  "He'll get over it. It's just infatuation."

  "You sound as though you speak from experience." Michael stopped. We were on the monastery property now. Our sneakers were sopping wet from the marshy ground. Michael steadied himself on my arm to remove his shoes. "It's no secret that monastic life attracts homosexuals. Men get to live with men, with impunity, with praise, at least from the Catholic world. I've had my share of attractions. Thanks." His eyes turned to mine when he straightened up and then darted away in discomfort.

  "But you are dedicated to celibacy?" The opportunity seemed ripe for pressing him. "I'm dedicated to God."

  "And what does that mean, to be dedicated to God?"

  "I discover it, day to day, like everybody else." I grabbed Michael by the arm and stopped in my tracks, turning him toward me. "Let's stop playing games now, Michael. The intensity between us is as palpable as this flesh." I squeezed his firm arms. "You accused me of seducing Luke, but I wouldn't even attempt to seduce you, I desire you far too much for that. I can see you struggling, not against me but against yourself."

  "Does this amuse you?"

  "It gives me hope. May I hope?"

  "Do you know why I struggle? It's not against my attraction to you. It's against the evil I find in my soul, the same evil I see reflected in your eyes. Both of us are proud, rebellious, but it's not just that. It's a coldness, like the ice trapping Satan at the bottom of Dante's inferno. A coldness that cuts us off from everyone."

  "You've cared for Luke."

  "I have a duty toward him. That's different."

  "We're not sentimental types. Our hearts bother with nothing short of passion."

  He continued gazing steadily into my eyes. I pulled him to me and kissed him. His full lips responded, his body pressed against mine. For a moment we m
erged with the loftiest mountain peak behind us, now star-crowned in the clearing skies.

  "We can leave this place," I whispered in his ear as I embraced him.

  He made no answer.

  We kissed again in the dark entrance hall of the monastery and separated. My soul blazed for him. I longed for blood to calm myself, but dawn was too close now and I retreated to my cell. A figure sat wrapped in shadows outside the door.

  "What are you doing here, Luke?" I nudged him with my foot to awaken him.

  He shook off his sleep and got to his feet. "Where did y'all go?" he said accusingly.

  "Go to bed." I opened my door and he followed me into the dark chamber.

  "You was with Mike. I seen him going out to you."

  He grabbed my arm. His eyes were filled with desperation.

  I shook off his grip. "I said go to bed."

  "No, Victor, you ain't gonna get away with this. No sir, you traitor. Both of you. You ain't gonna do this to me. Know what I'll do?" He was nearly hysterical now, his voice trembling, his hands making fists at his sides. "I'll go to the abbot with everything. Hell, I'll confess everything about you and me. I'll tell him 'bout every time we fucked, every time you sucked my dick. You'll be outta here so fast you won't know what hit you."

  I grabbed him by the shoulders. "Listen to me, boy. You'll keep your mouth shut or you'll be out of here too."

  "No!" He tried to free himself from my grip. "I'll tell him, you bastard. You think I care what happens to me?"

  I had no choice now. As Luke struggled in my hands, in the darkness of my cell, I plunged my fangs into his throat. For a moment, he melted into my arms, as though once again I were mounting him, and I felt his desire for me flare. But as I siphoned the warm, young blood, he collapsed, unconscious. I continued drinking until his heart, whose rhythm had moved from a frantic speed to the tempo of a solemn war drum, sounded a final beat.

  Deep into the woods I carried his body, hiding it in the underbrush. I made it back to the monastery just as faint light rimmed the mountains. Quietly, I slipped into my tomb, as filled with dread as with the blood of my victim.

  V

  The Beloved

  Chapter Nineteen

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  Tolling, tolling, tolling. Throughout my fitful sleep in the close coffin, the bass voice of a bell, like an ancient prophet's lament, intruded into the dreams that followed my killing of Luke. When my nerves finally registered the sinking of the sun, my eyes flashed open in the dark chamber and I thought I heard the bell still. But silence prevailed. Around me the dusty skeletons lay, complacent, I thought, in their immobility, their finality. There were brief moments when I envied them.

  The taste of Luke's blood was in my mouth. I thought I would retch. To kill a stranger, in the heat of lust for blood, in dire need of it, was like running a sword through an enemy during combat. No matter how young, how beautiful, how brave the opponent, I plunged the sword up under the ribs as a matter of survival. But to kill a boy who fawned on me, though he hung like a stone around my neck, made me realize the darkness, the suffocating darkness of my life. The tight dimensions of the pine box, the close vault that held it, trapping awful shadows: How many times did I awake that night to see the chamber as a symbol of what I carried with me when, like a rodent, I crawled from its confines? But when upon my mind's screen were projected Michael's eyes, dark and intense, solemn and keen as a winter night's stormy sky, the darkness held hope, life that mocked the pious, insipid light of day.

  I rose, eager to find Michael, stripping off my blood-splattered T-shirt and stuffing it under the mattress in my cell until I could bury it later. In a fresh habit, I ascended the stairs to the entry hall of the monastery. There, to my irritation, I found the sober-faced abbot awaiting me.

  He greeted me with a nod. "Would you come into my office a moment, Brother Victor?"

  I followed him, taking a seat in the leather chair across from his desk, where he seated himself. A pair of dim lamps glowed, leaving unbroken the shadows stretched across the books and high corners of the room.

  "What is it, Brother Matthew?"

  "Brother Luke has disappeared."

  His unusual directness amused me. I imagined that, determined to overcome his intimidation of me, he had rehearsed this confrontation.

  "He did not show up for lauds this morning, and when one of the brothers went to check on him, he found Luke's bed still made. We searched the greenhouse, the grounds, finally the whole monastery. There was no sign of him."

  "You think he ran away?" I asked. I leaned back and crossed my legs.

  "What do you think, Brother Victor?" The abbot removed his glasses and managed to look directly into my eyes.

  "How should I know, Brother Matthew? After our conversation in the library I did exactly as I promised. I ended my association with Brother Luke."

  "He made no attempt to keep up your friendship?"

  "Of course he tried. As I told you, he was infatuated. But I insisted. Did he leave a note?" In the brief time I'd had to dispose of Luke's body there was no opportunity to scribble an explanation. Besides, I couldn't forge his hand, nor could I print something from a computer since he didn't have access to one and therefore couldn't have done that himself.

  "No. Nothing. I hoped he might have said something to you about his whereabouts. I thought he must have run away out of anger or desperation, and that he might have warned you."

  I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I know nothing."

  Brother Matthew searched the wall behind me, his brow furrowed in distress, his delicate finger pressing his lips. Then he leveled his troubled gaze at me.

  "Did you hear or see anything last night, any unusual noises inside the monastery, or outside? Did you go outside at all last night?"

  I knew this was a test. Only in that second did I understand how little the abbot trusted me. "Yes, I took a walk. I know the sheriff told us to stay in, but I can't stay cooped up. I ran into Brother Michael. I'm surprised he didn't say anything to you. He was worried about some children left alone. I went up with him to take them to a safer place."

  "Brother Michael did mention it." The abbot's eyes fell for a moment and then turned back on me after he'd composed himself. "I assembled the brothers, except for you, of course, because it was daylight, to explain the situation and to ask if they heard or saw anything last night. Brother Michael told me you'd gone up the mountain and didn't see anything unusual. I just wondered if you had noticed anything before or after your trip."

  "I see." I gazed at him until he lowered his eyes again. "No, I didn't notice anything. So you're concerned that Luke might have been attacked by the crazy man roaming the mountains?"

  "It's a possibility we have to consider." He stood and went to the window. "Brother Luke took nothing with him, as far as we can tell. He had no means of transportation. To hitchhike into town in the middle of the night, on a country road… well, that seems pretty unlikely. At least the sheriff thinks so. He's had men searching the road into Knoxville all day."

  "Are they searching the woods too?"

  The abbot turned and rested his hands on the back of his chair. "Yes. If Luke did wander into the woods. Well, just pray for him, Brother."

  I nodded.

  "Sheriff Johnson will be here shortly to question you. He's already spoken to the others."

  "I don't see that I can help him."

  "Still, he wants to cover all the bases."

  When the sheriff arrived, the abbot left us alone in his office. The stocky, 50ish man sat on the edge of a wing-back chair and, resting his elbows on his knees, wrote my responses on a page in a clipboard. He looked exhausted, straining to see his own notes through his bifocals. He wore a khaki uniform with short sleeves and two buttons open at the neck in the heat. His reddish beard needed trimming.

  "Now, Brother," he drawled, glancing up at me with steady gray eyes. "You say you was outside last night till what time?"

  "Nearly dawn. It took
us that long to get back from the Jacksons' house. Didn't Brother Michael tell you all this?" I made little attempt to hide my impatience.

  "All a formality, Brother. Bear with me here." He jotted down something. "And you saw or heard nothing suspicious?"

  "It was raining. We were talking. I didn't notice anything."

  "Mmm-hmm." He scribbled again.

  "You think there was foul play?"

  "Too early to know." He straightened up to yawn, sat back in the chair, and crossed his legs as though we were having a very amiable conversation. "You and Brother Luke was pretty close, I hear." He removed his bifocals and put them in his shirt pocket.

  "You could say that, I suppose." I stared steadily at him.

  "You suppose? Were y'all on the outs?" He tapped his pen against a gold cap on a bottom tooth as he peered at me with interest.

  "Luke was making a pest of himself. He followed me around like a dog. I told him to find another hero. I'm sure the abbot told you he advised me to talk to Luke. He probably also told you Luke was upset with me. Which explains why he ran away."

  "If he did run away."

  "Yes."

  "You don't seem too bent out of shape about Brother Luke. I guess it's probably good to keep a level head when there's nothing you can do." He continued to eye me with interest.

  "Exactly. If there is something I can do—"

  "Well, in fact there is one thing you might help me with. You mind if I take a peek at your bedroom? Abbot said it was down in the cellar under the church."

  "Yes. I have a skin condition. I can't take any amount of sunlight. Why do you want to see my cell?" Civility had never come natural to me, and I made little effort to hide my resentment now.

  "Oh, just a formality. You know. Got to poke around the whole place."

  The sheriff followed me down the dark stairs. When we got to the crypt he stopped to examine the tablets on the walls.

  "Well, look at that. This 'un died pert near 100 years ago." He had put on his glasses to read the dates on the middle tablet. "I guess the one down here's the newest dearly departed." He advanced toward my tomb.