Page 7 of Absolution
I didn’t hold out much hope that it would work the same for me.
The bell from the basilica rang quietly, in the distance, marking the hour. I’d come from religious stock. My folks migrated from China to have more freedoms, including that to be Christian. Was all that over now that I was undead? It wasn’t something I had asked Gabe about, but I approached the church with a reckless abandon, only pausing briefly before stepping on the shoveled walk to text Constantine—if something happens, be safe…
The phone buzzed back almost instantly. I ignored it and followed the manicured snow drifts up to the salted stairs. Lightning didn’t strike when I took the first step, nor did I burst into flames when I opened the door.
Scattered lights made the church look cavernous. Statues of angels and saints lined the walls high up, and above them stained-glass windows reflected colorful panes of darkness, probably from the snow cover. I bet during the day the sun would bounce around creating rainbows to dance on the oak pews.
I touched one of the wood pews sliding my fingers along the smooth surface of the sanded seat. It was a good memory. Times when my family had piled into the back of the church to listen to mass and kneel in prayer for something better to come.
No one screamed or even glanced my way. The few people still awake at this hour knelt with heads bowed. Either no one noticed that a vampire had just walked in or no one cared. The lack of bursting into flames made me wonder if church was all bullshit, or if vampires being inherently evil was.
The confessions closet was open on the parishioner’s side. I sucked in a heavy breath and headed for the little room. Maybe talking to God and asking for forgiveness would lighten my mood a little. Maybe he could tell me what to do, whether I should keep Luca or try to find some other focus for my life. Anything had to be better than the drifting I was doing right now.
I closed the door behind me and marveled at how similar the room felt to a coffin. Was that intentional? To give people a taste of death and scare them into confessing? The door between the windows slid back.
“Forgive me, Father, I have sinned,” I said in familiar fashion.
“The Lord forgives those who seek His grace, son.”
“I’m not human, Father. Are the rules the same?”
“We are all imperfect in His sight, child. Yet His blood cleanses us of all wrongs. Seek Him and find peace in His forgiveness.”
Blood. Yeah, it was all about the blood. The way it tasted, smelled, and how badly I needed it. I should have taken more from Luca. Maybe he’d have stilled the hunger a little longer. Gabe said I could take from the averagecibotwo or three times a night. Anything had to be better than the constant bloodlust, right? Matthew had been driven crazy by it. Revenge for blood had stolen Andrew’s life from him. Those were the examples I’d begun with. Then there was Gabe who was strong, stoic, and compassionate. He could also be ruthless and cunning. Andrew had told me stories that I didn’t know if I could believe or not. Things that made Gabe sound like a monster who killed anyone or anything that got in his way. He hid his darker side, wouldn’t even let his lover glimpse it, but I knew it was there. We all had it. No matter how much we fought it.
Yeah, it was all about the blood.
I could smell the priest’s blood and hear his pulsing heart. He was tired, old, but I could almost taste him from where I sat. “Forgive me, Father. I can’t do this yet,” I told him and got up from the bench, fleeing the confessional. Back out in the cold I stalked toward home though it was a several mile walk. I’d work through this just like I had everything else in the past. I wasn’t an animal out of control. Just a new vampire. I could rein it in. Or let it go. I wasn’t really sure which I preferred.
The quiet streets passed. I ignored it all. My gut told me sunrise was a few hours away and I should hurry home. A coffee shop beckoned with bright lights and smells of roasted beans early in the morning. I crossed the street and slid inside, enjoying the fact that the place was mostly empty. The barista smiled at me and took my order for a hot mochaccino. I couldn’t drink it but it would warm my hands and smell good.
I sat down at a corner booth and opened the lid so I could breathe in the sweetness. I tuned out the world and just focused on air in and air out, letting all the rest go for now. The smell had somewhat vanished and I might have dozed because I barely noticed someone drop into the seat across from me.
It wasn’t until he grabbed my cup and took a sip that I finally realized I wasn’t alone. I blinked away my spotty vision and stared at Luca. “You look like a vampire when you do that,” he pointed out.
“Is that a problem?”
He shrugged. “I guess if you don’t have people randomly targeting vampires around here for gang beatings and stakings it wouldn’t.”
My smile was automatically wicked—I’m sure with more than a little fang showing. “Let them try.”
“You have a mean streak.” He took another sip of the coffee and frowned. He got up, threw it away and headed to the counter. The jeans he wore hugged his ass nicely. I admired it until he returned to the table with two new hot drinks. Mine was another mochaccino. I took off the top again and sucked in another burst of the wonderful smell. Luca sipped from his cup looking damn edible. Why did he have to be so damned hot?
“Does it bother you that I’m not nice?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “Nah. I sort of expected it. When we talked on the net you come across a little distant and cold. Not that it’s a bad thing. Life is not all bubble gum and puppies. And anyone who tells you it is, is trying to sell you something. Talking to you was actually refreshing. Lots of new vampire are just suck ups trying to keep their master happy. It’s so annoying.”
“I’ve done my time as other people’s doormats. I don’t let anyone walk on me anymore. So if you’re just looking for someone to push around, I’m not your guy.”
“Understood. Makes sense really. I’ve read your file. Gabe insisted. You’ve had shitty people around you most of your life, you can’t be expected to be perfect.”
I snorted at the irony. “Have you met Seiran? He had shitty people too, but he’s pretty perfect.”
Luca shook his head. “He’s not. I’d say he’s pretty troubled. And his OCD is only part of that. You shouldn’t be aiming for perfect anyway. You should just be you.”
“Get that off a Hallmark card?”
“It did sound kind of cheesy as I was saying it.”