| Addiction "Ni avec toi, ni sans toi " / "Not with you - but also not without you" Epitaph on a tombstone in a small cemetery in Southern France Part 1 His hair smells of autumn, I thought, of earth and ripe apples, the smoke of fires when dry leaves are burnt in the chilly dusk. In his dreams I see sunny afternoons, a multitude of golden leafs against a bright blue sky, a many-coloured kite spiralling up to the clouds. And I hear laughter, carefree, cheerful laughter. Tentatively, I withdrew my hand, the hand that wanted to caress the ashen hair. Who am I to take this away from him? Who am I to steal the daylight that he doesn't even know he needs? What have I to offer him? The only thing he's ever wanted from me is the one thing I can never give him! I sighed. Cruel - that's what he called me, a heartless bastard, a merciless son of a bitch. A thin sad smile must have appeared on my lips. No, this one had never hesitated to stand up against me, not even at the beginning when he hadn't been sure if I wouldn't choose to kill him in the end. Surely, on Daniel's part there had always been that morbid desire of flirting with disaster, but also the sheer lust of defying and disputing all my beliefs and values over and over. And while in the old days the coven members had trembled in fear at my furious outbursts of rage, Daniel just laughed right in my face only to take up his arguments more vehemently. Sometimes he had treated me almost like a wilful child - imagine that, me, the awe-inspiring coven master who with only a sweep of his hand had sent his acolytes into the dust at his feet! - taking my hands in his to answer my nagging questions with the never-ending patience as of a loving parent: "But Armand, can't you see ... ? Where did you spend the last five hundred centuries that you do not even know a simple thing like that? Ah, let's start again right at the beginning ..." An excellent question this: Where had I spent my time among the living dead, during all those bleak decades of loneliness and despair after my home, my whole world, and all I had come to love had perished in a violent blaze of flames? I had cried out then, struggling frantically to escape my captors, but to no avail. Their sardonic laughter ringing in my ears, their cruel lecherous hands all over my body, they hauled me away from this scene of destruction. But I was hardly aware of all this, I had only eyes for him, my beloved Master, reaching out to me from the far end of the palazzo, his cobalt-blue eyes filled with infinite grief. And when he suddenly disappeared into the night then, a torch burning violently against the gloomy waters of the canal, the last thing he uttered was my name. Ever since that time, I kept dreaming of the fire. The ferocious blaze, red-hot and devastating, searing my senses, eating up my heart ... How had I longed to join my companions in the flames then, but my new Master wouldn't let me. Slowly but surely, however, all my memories of the light and the fire were consumed by the Dark Ways, the devilish rites of the Children of Darkness. My new Master taught me a new kind of religion in which love and compassion no longer existed. Under the Roman catacombs, my blissful memories faded step-by-step, gone were my reminiscences of the angels' sublime faces that my beloved Master used to paint, instead I saw Satanic ghouls with ugly distorted features everywhere I looked. In order to fill the empty void that once was my heart, I perfected the ways of the Children of Darkness, customs I had once found horrid, but which then gave me the only solace that was to be had. In the end, I surpassed my mentors, even the imposing and frightening Santino, in zealous devotion -- and merciless cruelty. Until at last, I executed the coven's every commandment without questioning it. Unforgiving, killing both mortals and insubordinate fledglings without pity. Widened with horror and amazement were my victims' eyes and the face I saw reflected there was blank, totally devoid of futile emotions such as mercy or kindness. What were their desperate pleas to me? They meant nothing, just as the world around me had gradually vanished into nothingness. I was truly dead then. Never in all subsequent centuries would someone have dared or cared enough to break through that impenetrable citadel of ice with which I had surrounded myself. But as solid and impassable that stronghold seemed from the outside, it in fact consisted of a thin layer only that separated me from the ever-tempting light of the sun. I wanted to hear no more of love. And the only one I could have come to love during all these years, he was dreaming of somebody else when I held him in my arms. Even while I drank from his milk-white throat he fantasized about the blue-gray eyes of his long lost prince, the lover I had so cruelly taken away from him just as I had murdered his golden-haired daughter. Horrible crimes, for which he would be blaming me forever -- just as much as he would blame himself. So there was no love to be found in his embrace, only the petty comfort survivors of a commonly experienced disaster can give to themselves. But what a lie calling that comfort petty -- it was all that kept me alive during those times! Ah, my precious Louis, you've always been so distant, even when your pallid body was writhing against mine, so desperately seeking something I could not give to you. You've escaped me like the strands of your midnight hair slipping through my fingers. I couldn't make you stay ... Then came a warm spring night in the last decades of the 20th century that changed everything. The moment I laid eyes on that boy, I sensed that this person would be more than a mere mortal pet to be discarded sooner or later without regret. That had been years ago. Where was that boy now, the boy I had come to love? Loved him truly, madly, deeply as the song goes, and as desperately as I sometimes hated him? Surely, despite his youthful looks, Daniel no longer was a boy. How it had wounded me to notice the first thin lines around Daniel's eyes or that bitter expression that sometimes appeared around the corners of his mouth. "You look at me and watch me die, night after night, you watch it!" Daniel had shouted, his voice raw with anger and pain. Still I could feel the anguish I had suffered when being confronted with these charges for the first time. I would always turn away then and pretend to ignore these accusations, but, of course, I knew so well that they were true. How could I ever forget when I looked into Daniel's lavender eyes that my lover -- like all mortals -- was walking under the shadow of death? Still I was determined never to reveal to Daniel how agonizing it actually was for me to leave it at this, to watch only and to live with the knowledge that I would do nothing to change Daniel's fate. In fact, it would be easier to kill him -- at least I pretended so. Making Daniel my fledgling, however, would be the truly abominable crime. This conviction was buried deep within my soul. For once the vow that I would never make another vampire myself had been the only instrument to maintain my integrity, the only thing that I had been able to deny to the Children of Darkness. And so I kept telling myself again and again that I could not bring Daniel over, that I had no right to drag him into this existence of infinite misery and woe. If Daniel could only understand what he was asking for - but, of course, he couldn't. It was like explaining to a blind man the various shades of blue in the sky. There was no way out of this dilemma. In the end, there could be no doubt about it, I would lose Daniel. And worst of all, Daniel's state of mind already was precarious. Or was it that way because he was constantly denied the Dark Gift? Never would I forget how it was listening to Nicolas' delirious monologues, having to put up with his continuous mad ravings and how it was when I finally had to take off his hands. And then his end -- pure agony! Nicolas, however, had not been my fledgling, I had not loved him and so I did what ultimately had to be done. The mere thought of having to go through this again, and this time with Daniel, my Daniel, made me shudder. So perhaps it would be better for him to die after having completed a normal lifetime than ending up as a demented fledgling who was destined to seek for the sun sooner or later. But wasn't it already too late for Daniel to return to an ordinary lifestyle? Contacts to his family or former friends no longer existed and were never replaced by new acquaintances since we had been traveling all around the globe like nomads. Ah, I've been so selfish all these years, and now my egoism has wrecked all hope that Daniel could ever have of living as a normal mortal again. How I wish that he could chose life again, instead of death. What should I do then? Stay with Daniel until our frenzied way of living completely destroyed my lover both physically and mentally? Or leave him to an unknown future in the hope, probably vain, but hope nonetheless, that Daniel might be strong enough to recover and find his way back to life? That would probably be the best for Daniel - but not for me! What will become of me then? For me there's no way back! How shall I be able to continue without him? Thoughts like that were spinning in my head in an endless loop. But concealing my true feelings had become a second nature to me. Throughout the centuries I had perfected the art of hiding my grief behind the façade of cool cynical detachment, it was no wonder at all, then, that Daniel thought I had no heart. What does it matter now? Let him believe I'm a fiend, a monster. Who cares? Who? I looked around the plain white room: rough wooden floorboards, some logs piled next to a simple fireplace on one side, a low ceiling with rough timberwork, an old-fashioned wicker chair with a faded quilt draped around it, a simple table serving as a kind of desk overflowing with piles of books and a number of worn scribbling books. Had Daniel kept a diary during our time together? How tempting it would be to browse through the pages ... Again, I felt a weak smile puckering my lips. Why of all places had Daniel chosen this little spot deep in the south of rural France? Daniel, with whom I had resided at the world's finest hotels in luxury and opulence, now a farmhand helping with grape gathering. Just imagine, my Daniel, who hadn't seen high noon for several years was now to get up at dawn to work in the vineyards! The mere idea of it seemed absurd to me, ridiculous! Was that the "real life" he had spoken of lately so many times and which he obviously preferred to the "surreal existence" we had led together? Looking once more at my one-time lover who was breathing steadily, soundly asleep under the covers, I sighed resignedly. Over the last years our disputes had taken on an increasingly violent character and hardly ever did we manage to come to an agreement in words. Mostly, we would regret the harsh vocabulary and unfair accusations soon after and try to make up. Making love so gently, whispering small endearments between sighs, touching each other with trembling hands, with infinite care, like one caresses a precious object d'art. Very often, however, the violence of our fights continued even during our love-making and although Daniel would have never been able to actually hurt me, I sometimes let him have his way with me, being aware that this was the only way for him to vent his anger and frustration. These disturbing developments had culminated in our last disastrous fight about nine or ten months ago. "What is it you want from me?" Daniel had exclaimed furiously, gripping me at the lapels, shaking me like I was a lifeless doll since I didn't make any attempt to defend myself. It would have been easy for me to throw off Daniel and fling him to the ground - but Daniel already was defeated. "I've given you all I could give you. But what is it to you? Nothing! You sit there like a sphinx and all you do is watch with those cold eyes, watch me crash down from heaven to hell, watch me hunger and plead for those tiny drops of your blood." "Daniel, it's not like that and you know it." "No, of course, it's not that you'd keep me deliberately dependent on you, certainly not!" Daniel spat sarcastically. "But isn't it strange? Every time I think of leaving you, you turn up, out of the blue, smiling, like you had the world to offer me and when you kiss me you let me taste that essence which makes my resolution melt within seconds ... "Mind your language, my boy." "Ah, shut up! I'm no longer your boy! What else is your blood but the most powerful drug I've ever taken and you, Mr. Coven Master, you'd be such a perfect candy man. You know how to keep an addiction alive!" "So you want to leave me?" I had asked, my voice cool and calm while I felt as if the ground was sliding out from under me . Not again! Not you! My heart cried out silently. "No, I don't want to! It breaks my heart! But what other choice is there? We will separate sooner or later - as you very well know we must." Daniel inhaled deeply and turned away. All of a sudden the silence in the room fell down on us like a heavy leaden cloud. For a while neither of us spoke. Finally, Daniel looked up again, his eyes in tears, his voice broken. "This is so , so ... humiliating and I'm too weary to beg you any longer!" "Daniel, listen, "I answered slowly, as if speaking merely a few words was an extremely laborious task. "I can't do it." "I expected no other answer from you," Daniel muttered tonelessly. "But if you love me only the thousandth part of what you claim you do, you would then give me the chance of living a life without you. You would let me go now and not follow me any longer," Daniel had added. He paused to see which effect these words might have on me, but I only sat there, motionless, looking down at my hands that were shining in the pale light coming from the streets outside, perfect hands, like the limbs of a marble effigy. At last, I shrugged my shoulders: "All right ... Farewell, Daniel." I could see the shocked surprise in Daniel's eyes, who had expected more threats and accusations instead, but at that point I had given up already. "All right, then," Daniel nodded finally, hesitating for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but then he quickly left the room without looking back. "But I do love you," I whispered and felt a bloody trail of tears running down the side of my face as the door closed with small sound. I remember sitting in the twilight of that room for a long, long time, as if I had actually turned into stone, as if time had frozen, as if I was truly dead at this point. My pain, however, was so intense that I felt alive as I hadn't for years. The sounds of cars passing by now and then, their lights wandering along the low ceiling of the room, some drunkards cursing and brawling a few blocks further down the road and then silence again and darkness. In the small hours I finally awoke from this torpor, my sight blinded by a dark-red haze, and the only thing I wanted to do was weep, weep with no end. But no sobs escaped my lips, only a shrill eerie howl, like the wailing of a wild wounded beast. I felt the blood thirst rise and rise, consuming me like the ravenous fire I had once longed for. During the rest of that night I wallowed in blood, killing indiscriminately all unfortunates that happened to cross my path. But all the blood in the world was not enough to ease my pain. |
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