Page 26 of Farkas: Gothika
Although the fangs had disappeared and Vincent’s eyes were black instead of glowing red, he looked otherworldly even in this entirely pedestrian diner. He was achingly beautiful, more so than any Hollywood star. But he was also… present in a way Lee had never witnessed in anyone else.
Lee—the son of an immigrant farmer—was a veteran who never made it past private, and one of hundreds of lawyers in a town infested with them. Not bad-looking, but Vincent could have found someone prettier without searching hard.
“Why me?” Lee asked.
Before Vincent could answer, the waiter arrived with an overflowing plate. Lee’s stomach growled loudly, making Vincent chuckle. “By all means, eat. You look as if you have been missing meals lately.”
After Lee swallowed a bit of gravy-soaked sausage, he repeated his question. “Why me?”
Vincent steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. He looked thoughtful, as if choosing his words carefully. “This can be—should be—a long commitment. I have found only a few people fitting for this. There is also considerable risk that a companion might abuse his powers in dangerous ways. So I search for someone who is pleasing to my eyes but also possesses the appropriate temperament and personal qualities.”
This was beginning to sound like a job interview. “Such as?” Lee asked as he gathered a forkful of potatoes.
“Intelligence. Perseverance and patience. The willingness to endure hardship to reach a goal. Some hardness of the heart, but not too much. You, my love, are someone I can converse with about things large and small. You can sit quietly with me in a room for hours, filling it with your presence but not overwhelming. We have some commonalities in our backgrounds—a shared bloodline, if you will. We are both strangers in this place. In every place. I had learned some things about you from Mr. Graves before we met, but you exceeded my expectations and hopes.”
Vincent’s expression was intense but tender. Lee didn’t know if that was love, but it was certainly closer than anything he’d received from anyone else. Vincent wanted him—him specifically—and that was a heady thing.
Then Vincent dropped his voice to a low whisper. “And of course, as we have discovered, your carnal desires are an excellent fit for mine. I would have been quite satisfied with your companionship alone, but this is so much more delightful. Do you not think so?”
Lee’s mouth was full of food and his cheeks heated by a blush, so he gave only a jerky nod. Before Vincent, he’d never given much consideration to his “carnal desires” apart from a despairing acknowledgment that they involved men rather than women. But now he knew exactly what he wanted: to serve a master who would make him quiver and howl. If he never saw Vincent again, Lee would probably spend the rest of his life looking for a man who could give him that. He doubted he’d ever find one.
They sat silently, aside from the sounds of Lee eating, and soon his plate was empty and the refilled coffee cup drained. It was such a mundane thing to do, eating breakfast in a diner, but who else in the world had the privilege of doing so in company like this?
Vincent paid the bill, and they walked back toward Lee’s apartment at a brisk pace. It took Lee a few blocks to realize why. “Sun’s up soon. Are you—”
“Do not worry,” Vincent said soothingly. “I have arrangements.”
Of course he did. He was hundreds of years old and knew how to take care of himself. This was a soothing thought.
When they reached Lee’s building, they paused in front of the entrance. Lee wanted to fall into Vincent’s embrace and never leave, but he couldn’t shake the memory of the unconscious and bloody kid in the alley. He opened his mouth to explain, but Vincent smiled and made a shushing motion. “I understand,” Vincent said.
“It’s not…. I want you. God, I want you so much.” Lee had never before uttered those words. He’d never had reason to until now.
“Me, or what I can offer you?” Vincent looked almost shockingly vulnerable.
“You. I think I could spend eternity with you and still want your company.”
That brought a broad smile, and for a moment Vincent looked young and very human. He grabbed Lee’s hand and kissed the back of it, then let it drop. “Yet one must not tread lightly into eternity. I will leave you alone now, and I will not contact you again.”
The air left Lee’s lungs and he had to stop himself from grabbing Vincent by the shoulders. “No,” he said. It came out suspiciously like a whimper.
“But you may contact me, my love. Tell Mr. Graves if you wish to see me. I will receive the message promptly.”
He tenderly stroked Lee’s lips with his thumb and then spun on his heel and immediately disappeared into the night’s final shadows.
Lee licked his lips and tasted iron and salt.
Chapter Twelve
For an entire month Lee attempted to return to his regular life. He got to the office early, had lunch with a couple of the other associates, met with clients and partners, read books and documents, dictated memoranda. He worked late. Had dinner out, sometimes with a few drinks. Went home to his apartment, undressed, and fell asleep.
He didn’t dream about Vincent or cliffs or coyotes. Instead, he awoke each morning with fleeting sensations of sore muscles and an empty belly; of the scents of unwashed troops and bloody mud; of the sounds of professors droning on about collateral estoppel and vicarious liability. Of the sight of a pale, blood-smeared youth slumped in an alley.
As he did a few times a year, Lee stopped by the post office and purchased a money order for two hundred dollars. Then he went to a stationers and bought a greeting card with a photo of the Hollywood sign, writing inside a few lines in German. I’m doing well at my job. Might make partner soon. Hope you are all healthy.
He signed it with a capital L and nothing else. Then he addressed it, stamped it, and dropped it into the mail. In a week or two he’d receive back a brief note in his mother’s cramped, old-fashioned handwriting, telling him about the grandchildren and his father’s bad back. She would sign it formally, Vater und Mutter.
Lee went to the movies on Saturday nights, alone. He had to walk out of the one about the Korean War, but he enjoyed the others.