Page 21 of Vampire Claus

He took the scrapbook with trembling hands and stared at the sepia-toned photograph. In the center, an elderly man in a formal suit stood next to a strong-looking woman with white hair. Surrounding them were other, younger adults, and two babies. All were stiff and posed, dressed finely and unsmiling. The babies wore what appeared to be christening gowns.

“That’s my Dad’s mom, my grandmother,” Paul said, pointing to one of the infants, “and her twin sister Carla. And these are her parents,” he added, indicating an adult man and woman. Then he tapped the oldest man at the center of the photo. “And that’s her own grandfather. Calogero.”

Taviano’s skin prickled as he gazed at the photo. It should have been difficult to recognize the young man nearing twenty-one that Taviano had last seen. Yet he would have known that face anywhere. He traced a light finger over the clear material protecting the picture. There were the almond-shaped eyes that had crinkled at the corner when Gero laughed.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” he whispered. That he would find a descendant of his one-time lover in a different country on a Christmas Eve was baffling. The odds of it were smaller than the motes of dust he could track with vampire eyes. Unlikely as finding two identical snowflakes.

While Taviano lost himself in the photograph, Paul returned to the trunk. Bending over it, he rummaged some more until a series of plinks rattled the windowpane. “What was that?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Taviano murmured as he dragged his eyes from the scrapbook. He distantly registered the clattering noise but hadn’t yet isolated its cause. The demon suddenly roared in his chest. Paul was already raising the sash to see who tossed stones at his apartment. He leaned over the sill.

“No, don’t—!” Taviano cried out and launched himself across the room to pull him back inside the shield of the barrier magic. At the same moment, Paul yelled and thrashed as something grabbed him by the hair. His kicking feet shattered the window, raining glass down in the apartment. Taviano instinctively covered his eyes and in that instant, Paul was dragged out into the night.

The vampire with purple and blue streaks in her hair carried Paul across the gap to the rooftop beyond. She whirled to face Taviano as she forced Paul to his knees, his head yanked back to expose his neck. The sharp claws of her free hand flexed against his jugular.

Preternatural senses registered three other vampires. They arrayed themselves across the roof, near the woman who claimed the North End. The demon in Taviano’s belly twisted and roared in its furious drive.

Kill maim conquer consume.

His own rage and desperation fueled the fire. It was all he could manage to keep from leaping unprepared across the distance and tearing into the four vampires. Each was younger than him and weaker, but collectively… He didn’t know if he could take on four and survive.

The woman hissed, her vicious sounds carrying easily to his ears. “I warned you but you’re still here. Your familiar dies first and then we will destroy you.” Her hand pulled back as she prepared to kill Paul and there was no time to think. Taviano launched himself through the shattered window, his hands stretched and fingers curled to tear out the woman’s eyes.

He’d cleared the roof when one of the other vampires surged forward. It took him by surprise, grabbing an arm to pull him off balance. They crashed to the shingles together and the vampire twined around Taviano in a flash. Legs crushing Taviano’s ribs, it tried to get hands at his neck.

Taviano’s command slipped and his demon roared its bloodlust and fury as it whipped his arms and legs impossibly. He somersaulted into the air and flipped so the grasping vampire was underneath him. Coming down on his back, he smashed it into the roof. The blow stunned the creature into releasing its hold.

Freed, Taviano spun to tear into the woman and time seemed to stop. Her black eyes glittered, and she smiled cruelly as she raked her nails across Paul’s throat. Blood gushed out and he gave a horrible, wet cry as he tried to cover the wounds with his hands. She tossed him to the far edge of the roof.

“Paul!” Taviano wailed but even as he started to run toward his lover, the woman leapt at him. She crashed her fists against the sides of his head and he went down, groggy. Despite the ringing in his head, he could hear Paul make a ghastly whistling sound as he tried desperately to suck in air.

He fought again to break away, to get to Paul, but one of the other vampires appeared at his back. It seized him in an iron grip as the woman again made claws of her hands and swiped brutally at his face. Misery welled inside Taviano. Paul was dead or dying and it was his fault. He should have left earlier. He should never have gone to Paul’s home in the first place.

The woman unleashed a series of pounding blows against his chest until he felt ribs crack. His shirt scorched under her fists. The internal damage began to repair itself but the vampire behind him put a knee against his back. It pulled on his arms as if to rip them off.

Taviano had no idea how much damage he could recover from. He didn’t know if he should even try to resist. He was a monster after all. The one man who had seen him as anything better had died. Paul drew him back to Mass, made love to him, called him an angel, gave him Christmas…and he was gone.

Maybe, just maybe, if Taviano died that night too, they could meet again on the other side. He had no hope of rising to heaven. If there were a merciful God, though, perhaps He’d allow one more moment with Paul before whatever awaited him began.

Weakened, broken, hurting, he went numb as a third vampire joined the fray. It yanked Taviano’s head roughly to one side, using handfuls of his hair. It bent to bite him in its own blood lust. His demon all but screamed at him to fight back, but his despair kept it trapped.

Ichor

The word whispered through his head and he had no idea where it came from. It was a voice, not a thought.

Look

And again. What was that? But a twitch drew his vampire eyes to Paul’s body, sprawled on the snowy roof.

It twitched again, and Paul raised a hand to his throat. Taviano choked back a cry for fear of alerting the vampires tearing at him. Paul ran fingers over his neck as he pushed up on one elbow. Under the wet blood, the wounds had nearly healed.

How?gave way almost at once toOf course.Plentiful amounts of ichor spread through Paul’s body from their lovemaking. It took just a trace to repair a surface wound. Taviano’s drawn-out orgasm had injected far more than that, and the magic substance coursed through his organs and blood. When the woman ripped his throat open, it healed him from within.

He sent desperate thoughts at Paul,willinghim to run while he still had a chance.

Fight

That voice. Inside him. Not in his head entirely, but through his whole body. Echoing and trying to make him stand and give battle.