Frank was surprised to see Julian Luna
in the Haven. He was sitting
in one of the booths, discussing something with several
men. Frank
recognized some of them; they were well known businessmen.
Whether they
were Kindred or not, he was not able to tell.
So, you’ve crept out of your seclusion,
he thought. Just keep your
hands off Lillie! Frank’s old jealousy came forth so
unexpectedly that
it surprised himself and made him feel ashamed. Nevertheless,
he kept
watching the Prince. Julian looked as he always had:
handsome, pale and
somber. He wore a dark suit and his black hair was brushed
back. As
usual, he tried to give a semblance of maturity and,
as usual, he wasn’t
entirely successful. Lillie was not around.
After a quarter of an hour Julian
lost interest in the conversation
and started looking around. Noticing Frank, he smiled
and nodded. At the
same time an elderly man came to him and asked something.
Julian Luna
rose and went out with that man. Frank followed them
without thinking.
He watched them talk for a couple of minutes and then
the older man said
good-bye and stopped a cab that was passing by. Julian
opened the rear
door for him and closed it after the man had climbed
inside. He looked
after the disappearing car for a moment and then started
to walk down
the street. Frank kept twenty paces behind him, wondering
why he was
stalking the Prince. But only after a hundred yards Julian
stopped. He
didn’t turn around, and Frank came quickly closer, unsure
of what to do.
When the policeman was only a few steps behind him Julian
looked over
his shoulder.
“What is it, Frank?” he asked, a hint
of irritation in his voice.
“I thought we could talk,” Frank shrugged
and Julian sighed.
“I’ve sneaked away from my guards,”
he said. “I’m being watched all
the time and it’s beginning to get on my nerves.”
“I’m not your bodyguard,” Frank retorted
laughing.
“True.” Julian looked away for a second
then returned his gaze to
the policeman. “Let’s take a stroll.”
They crossed the street and walked
into a park. They moved slowly
along the dimly lit paths in silence. At last Julian
Luna stopped and
faced Frank Kohanek.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked outright.
“Nothing’s on my mind,” Frank answered.
“I’ve known you for quite
some time but we’ve never talked.”
Julian Luna frowned.
“We talk at the meetings,” he said,
and Frank shook his head.
“I meant real talk. The unimportant
stuff that is really important.
I’d like to know what you think about... things. Things
you like or
dislike...”
“Why?”
Frank had been prepared to be chased
off and was totally surprised
by the simple question.
“I... uh, I’m trying to get to know
you...” He shrugged again
helplessly, well aware of how weird he sounded, expecting
the Kindred to
laugh at him or become annoyed. But Julian continued
to look at him, his
face quite serious.
“Why?” he asked again.
I’m making a fool of myself, Frank
thought.
“I thought we’re friends,” he blurted
out and watched Julian smile.
“No,” the Prince said, then cocked
his head to one side and looked
up at Frank. “And we can’t be,” he added.
The policeman exhaled sharply. Suddenly
he felt very vulnerable and
exposed.
“You know,” he said softly, “this
is more difficult than telling a
woman that you love her.”
Julian’s smile became wider.
“You’re quite right. Friendship is
so much more... complicated.” He
looked away before saying, “let’s move on.”
They walked in silence for several
minutes. Julian was obviously
pondering over something and the policeman didn’t want
to disturb him.
The Kindred stopped abruptly, and Frank who had moved
on was forced to
turn around in order to face him. They were standing
under a lamp and
Frank could see Julian’s face clearly.
“Frank,” the Kindred was talking softly,
“you said once that
everything I love dies. You were quite right. All my
family; my father,
my wife, my sister in law, Archon, my friends, the women
I’ve loved –
all dead.” He laughed suddenly. “Even my enemies. You’re
offering me
something that I want but it might prove deadly to you.”
“So… you don’t dislike me? You’re
turning me away because I might
get hurt?” Frank inquired.
“Yes, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“You’ve been around for quite some
time,” Frank responded, “you’re
bound to outlive us.”
“None of them died of old age,” Julian
retorted. “And neither will
I. You should stay away from me, Frank. If you know what’s
good for you,
you should stay away.”
“Are you telling me to get lost?”
the policeman inquired.
“No,” Julian was shaking his head.
“I’m just too selfish to do
that.”
“Ah…” The realization dawned slowly
on Frank. “You’re too selfish to
turn away my offer of friendship – you want it?”
“Frank.” Julian hesitated for a moment
but his gaze didn’t waver
from the policeman’s face. “I’m glad you made the first
move. I’d never
have dared to do that.”
“Why?” The question made Julian flinch.
“I don’t make friends easily.” He
was talking in a low voice, and
Frank had to come closer in order to hear him. “Usually,
men dislike me.
Or use me and betray me like Archon did. And Stephen...”
His face
contorted in pain and he shook his head as if he were
trying to shake
off an unpleasant memory. “When they love or admire me...
like Daedalus
or Arthur. I don’t want worship and I don’t want sexual
desire...”
“You don’t have to worry about that,”
Frank interrupted him. “I’m
not the worshipping type, and I sure as hell don’t want
to have sex with
you. But I do want to know what’s going on in your head.”
Julian laughed.
“Yes,” he said. “I think we can be
friends. And you have been
warned.”
“Your guards must be quite frantic
by now,” Frank commented as they
walked on.
“Let them sweat!” Julian made a dismissive
gesture. “I’m dead tired
of them. I’m not the goddamn pope!” The invective was
so out of place
that it made Frank laugh, and after a moment Julian realized
what he had
said and started laughing as well.
“If I had thought that there were
any danger I wouldn’t have let you
come along,” Julian said. “But Daedalus will have a fit
if I don’t
return soon. Sometimes I do things just to spite the
poor Nosferatu. He
will treat me as if I were a naughty child, and it drives
him crazy when
I pretend not to notice. He would spank me if he could,
he has been on
the verge more than once.”
“Can’t he?” Frank asked. It made Julian
laugh again.
“Of course he can! He’s much stronger
than I am. But he won’t. After
all, I am the Prince.”
He was quiet for a moment, lost in his memories. “Daedalus
would never
hurt me,” he said at last. “He has always protected me.
Archon tried to
hit me once, ages ago. I did something that made him
furious. Daedalus
stopped him. And Stephen... he always picked fights with
me, just for
fun, saying that I needed to learn to protect myself.
I didn’t know
then... what I know now. Daedalus would hover over us
like a mother hen
over her chicks, making sure that Stephen didn’t get
what he really
wanted. Eventually, he did, when Daedalus wasn’t around
to protect
me...”
“What did he want? And who is he,
this... Stephen?” Frank broke in,
stopping Julian’s tirade.
Julian didn’t answer at once. He looked
at Frank, an expression of
revulsion on his face.
“Stephen was my blood brother, and
he wanted to... hurt me.”
The shock made Frank gulp.
“Was?” he said at last.
“He’s dead,” Julian responded. “I
think Daedalus killed him,
although he said it was someone else…”
Napa Valley - 1856
Archon Raine watched his newly acquired
help closely. Several weeks
had passed since Julian had joined Archon’s human ‘work
force’, and it
was surprising that he was still alive. The boy wasn’t
any better with a
gun than any other of Archon’s men. He could hardly use
a knife and was
no good at all in fistfights although his was quite strong
and agile. In
spite of his lack of experience he would join any fight
that came his
way with enthusiasm and apparently did his best to get
himself killed.
He didn’t drink and he didn’t chase women, and the others
would chide
him for that, provoking him into attacking them. They
would beat him up
then, but never seriously, knowing that Archon would
throw them out if
they did. After a few weeks Archon told them that Julian’s
wife had died
recently, and that made them leave him alone. There were
so few women
around that everybody regarded a dead one as a tragedy.
But Julian would
pick fights with anybody that would oblige outside Archon’s
compound.
His determination and fearlessness would make up for
the lack of skill,
and he would come out of those fights victorious more
often than not.
Fate seemed to hold a protective hand over Julian Luna;
he was never
shot or stabbed, nothing was ever broken, at worst he
would come home
with a black eye or a split lip.
Only Archon didn’t believe in fate.
The boy will get himself killed anyway,
Archon concluded. A
well-aimed bullet, a throw of a knife, and that will
be his end. A pity.
I must stop thinking of him as a boy.
Archon didn’t want Julian Luna dead.
At first he couldn’t have cared
less, but within a few weeks he had found out things
about Julian that
made keeping him alive interesting. For starters, he
was older than
Archon had first thought. In spite of his teenage appearance
Julian was
twenty-six years old - an adult - and possibly receptive
to reason, once
his grief subsided. Also, compared to others, he had
been quite well
educated. He could read and write in both English and
French, and was
quite good with figures. He could become useful if he
lived long enough.
What had happened to Julian Luna was
of course a tragedy, and Archon
knew why the young man was depressed enough to want to
die. His wife had
died in childbirth, a common event in these parts; there
was no
physician for miles around. But only Archon knew why
Evelyn had been
left unattended on that fateful night. The evil tongues
had waggled
afterwards: Julian Luna had killed his wife in order
to be with his
sister in law who lived with them. With so few women
around, the envious
couldn’t stomach the fact that two beautiful women lived
in Julian’s
house. The talk subsided soon enough, when it became
apparent how
devastated Julian was by the death of his wife, and when
Eve disappeared
from Julian’s house the day after her sister’s death.
Archon had taken care of Eve when
Julian had turned her out, and
learned the truth from her. Julian Luna was responsible
for his wife’s
death. Instead of taking care of her, he had been in
the barn with his
sister in law. At first, Archon had trouble believing
the young girl;
Eve was apparently out of her mind, raving and crying,
even trying to
harm herself. Archon placed her in an asylum for the
insane and went to
see Julian Luna. The young widower seemed to be in no
better state than
his mad sister in law. He spent most of his time cleaning
the house and
himself. He would scrub the floor, the walls, wash everything
and bathe,
and then start scrubbing everything all over again.
“Mad indeed,” the neighbors had commented.
But he didn’t sound mad at all when
Archon talked to him. Devastated
by grief and guilt, but quite sane. When questioned,
Julian told Archon
what had happened. He had committed adultery with his
own sister in law.
His wife had been ill and they had not made love for
months. The illicit
affair had been going on for two weeks when the tragedy
occurred. Eve
had told Archon the truth. They had been in the barn,
making love, when
Evelyn’s labor had started. When Julian had found her,
almost at dawn,
she had lost so much blood that her life could not be
saved. She gave
birth to a boy and died soon afterwards.
“Where’s the baby?” Archon asked and
was told that Julian’s brother
had taken in the little boy. It was just as well. Julian
was apparently
in no shape to take care of a child.
“Why all this cleaning?” Archon continued
his interrogation, and
Julian shrugged.
“It keeps me occupied,” was his response.
In fact, Julian had responded reflexively
to the death in his house.
He was from New Orleans. The humid heat and swamps of
Louisiana were
anything but health promoting. Without any knowledge
of microbiology or
the causes of infectious diseases, he had been taught
from early
childhood that dirt meant disease and death. The slaves
knew that and
tried to protect themselves as best they could. It was
well known that
the white people succumbed to every epidemic much more
often than the
slaves did, only their masters believed that it was because
the black
people were somehow inferior. But Julian’s father, an
intelligent man,
who treated his slaves comparatively well, listened to
their wisdom.
Disregarding the prevalent opinion, he had been able
to put together
cause and effect, and with a conviction of the newly
converted enforced
cleanliness in his house and among his family. Julian
would retain his
dread of filth forever, even when he no longer would
have to fear
infectious diseases.
Archon offered Julian work; to take
him in and take care of him, and
Julian accepted without hesitation. He didn’t want to
stay in the house
where his conscience was constantly battered by what
had happened. He
sold his house and gave the money to his brother. It
was the first time
he saw his son since the baby had been born and his heart
was
constricted by pain. But he could not find the strength
within himself
to take care of his baby.
So Julian started to work for Archon,
a middle-aged, wealthy
landowner. Only a couple of weeks later one of the men
came running to
Archon on Saturday evening. He was apparently quite scared.
“Julian’s sick!” he shouted. “He’s
really in a bad shape!”
Archon frowned in disgust. The men
pretended often enough that they
were sick, just to avoid working. But then he remembered
that it was
Saturday, and the next day they were free to go to town.
Some would go
to church; others would get drunk, gamble and try to
find women. Not a
day to pretend to be sick.
When Archon entered Julian’s room
he was surprised that there was
total darkness. The man who had altered Archon said:
“He told me to get rid of the lamp.”
“Bring in some fresh water,” Archon
ordered and sat down on the edge
of Julian’s bed once the man was out of the room. Archon
could see
perfectly well in the darkness. He noticed that the young
man was very
pale but not sweaty. Archon’s hand touched Julian’s forehead.
It was
cool. But Julian moaned and turned his head away.
“What’s wrong with you?” There was
a trace of worry in Archon’s
voice.
“Bad headache,” Julian was whispering.
“It makes me throw up, and
the light hurts. I’ll be all right tomorrow.”
“You’ve had it before?”
“Yes. It will pass.”
Archon nodded and stood up.
“You need peace and quiet,” he said.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
Julian started to protest feebly but
Archon lifted him as if he were
a child and carried him to the main house. He had understood
immediately
that Julian suffered from migraine - a debilitating but
not dangerous
disease. The young man was put in one of the guestrooms
in Archon’s
mansion. He was sick for three days and Archon took care
of him during
that time. Then the attack ended as if it had never been,
leaving Julian
somewhat weakened for a day but thoroughly happy that
the pain was gone.
He told Archon that he had been suffering from these
severe attacks of
headache since he was eleven years old. Apparently he
had inherited it
from his father who had been similarly affected for as
long as Julian
could remember. Julian’s migraine would return every
few weeks; he’d
always know when an attack was impending: the light and
sound would
suddenly become offensive, and he would smell scents
that just weren’t
there. During one of these attacks Archon told Julian
that he was tired
of carrying him around, and from that time on Julian
stayed permanently
in the main house, working mostly under Archon’s supervision.
But it
didn’t keep Julian out of trouble. Somehow he always
managed to be where
there was something going on that might lead to violence.
If it didn’t,
to Archon’s dismay, Julian would provoke the violence
himself.
Stefan Langhelis Americanized his first
name to Stephen when the
opportunity arose. A tall, thin man in mid-thirties,
his eyes light
blue, his long hair so fair that it was almost white,
he was second
generation immigrant from Latvia, born only a few months
after his
parents had arrived in America. He had inherited many
cultural traits
from his family. Drinking hard liquor was one of them.
Julian Luna on the other hand, whose
family had lived in Louisiana
for several generations, was still quite French. Among
his relatives
drinking anything stronger than wine was considered inappropriate.
But
he didn’t dare to confess to his newly found friend that
he had never
drunk whiskey, and tried to keep up with Stephen’s pace.
The result was
disastrous. To Stephen’s dismay Julian became sick long
before he even
started to get drunk and had to get out. It made Stephen
mad: his trick
hadn’t worked.
Stephen had returned to Archon’s house
after an eight months long
absence. He had been traveling up and down the West Coast
buying goods
and tools with Archon’s gold and had been quite successful
in his trade.
That’s why Archon had allowed him to return. The unfortunate
business
with the injured boy had been forgotten.
Stephen had noticed Julian Luna immediately
upon his return. He was
good-looking and he was unusually clean. Stephen liked
what he saw. But
he could hardly try to seduce Julian under Archon’s watchful
eye. Archon
hadn’t said anything but Stephen knew what his Sire was
thinking. Julian
wasn’t a poverty stricken teenage boy that could be lured
into Stephen’s
bed and then paid off with enough gold to make up for
any damage that
had been inflicted. Julian Luna was an adult and he would
not be
intimidated by Stephen. If the Kindred resorted to violence,
the mortal
would fight back and probably end up dead. Archon would
not accept that.
Apparently, he was quite fond of Julian himself, and
it drove Stephen
mad that the beautiful young man seemed to be out of
his reach.
Stephen did his best to ingrate himself
into Julian’s favor. His
friendship was accepted gratefully, but that was all
that Stephen was
able to accomplish. Julian Luna was straight and apparently
totally
unaware of Stephen’s desire. He just didn’t see the passes
Stephen made.
Being of French ancestry, Julian was more tolerant of
physical contact
than Anglo-Saxons were. An arm around his shoulders,
a pat on the back
or the knee, a hug, were gestures of friendship to Julian
Luna, nothing
more. In his frustration Stephen conjured the idea of
getting Julian
drunk enough to take advantage of him, an idea that proved
disastrous.
Archon found Julian sitting on the
porch, his head hanging between
his knees. He had apparently been sick. When Archon came
closer he was
overwhelmed by the stench of the local moonshine. It
surprised him;
Julian had never drunk before.
“You should know better than drinking
this... this...” Archon could
not find an appropriate word, and using bad language
was not his habit.
“Shit!” Julian helpfully supplied
the right invective, making Archon
blink in surprise. Julian had never sworn in Archon’s
presence, not even
in French. The young man tried to get up but was sick
again. Archon
watched in silence as Julian got up to his feet unsteadily
and moved a
few steps sideways in an effort to get away from the
mess. He sat down
heavily but missed the porch and landed on the ground.
He let his head
rest against his knees and didn’t try to get up again.
Archon continued
looking at him with a disapproving frown. It was so out
of character.
Julian, always so neat and clean, who had earned the
nickname ‘Coon’
among his friends; he was always washing everything,
looked like an
unusually filthy heap of misery right now. It was not
like Julian at
all.
Archon sighed and fetched a bucket
of water. He emptied it over
Julian, expecting an expletive, but the young man only
huddled up under
the cold waterfall. Archon fetched more water. Three
buckets later he
dared to pick up Julian and steered him into the house.
Archon had to
help him to get out of the wet clothes and dried him
using his own
towel. He had brought the young man into his own bedroom,
afraid to
leave him alone. Julian was only semi conscious. Archon
felt his anger
rise.
“How could you do something so stupid?”
he said, a note of contempt
in his voice. “If you really must drink, you could at
least drink
something better than that...”
“Stephen bought the whiskey,” Julian
mumbled.
“Stephen?” Archon exclaimed but Julian
had already fallen asleep.
Archon fetched a blanket, deciding
to let Julian sleep it off in his
bed, but before he covered the naked figure, he looked
at the young man
for a long moment, trying to see Julian as Stephen saw
him. He let the
blanket fall over the sleeping man and shaking his had
in despair
decided that Stephen and Julian had to be separated in
order to avoid
disaster. Julian was blameless, apparently unaware of
the Kindred’s
desire, so Stephen would have to leave.
Archon confronted Stephen the next
day, prepared to send him off on
some errand that would keep him away for several months.
“You want to keep him for yourself!”
Stephen had shouted, mindless
of his Sire’s expression of disgust.
Archon, who had never suffered from
uncontrolled passion, was hard
pressed to keep his calm. He was mad at Stephen; he even
felt anger
towards Julian, although the young man had done nothing
to evoke it. But
Archon was not blind. Eventually Julian Luna would forget
his grief.
Then the trouble would start. As of now he was oblivious
of the women
that were trying to catch his attention, but when he
did notice them,
well, there was no telling what would happen. There might
be more
trouble in the future than Archon had bargained for.
Stephen was the
only one who had acted on his desires for the time being,
unsuccessfully, thank God. But what would happen when
Julian responded
to somebody’s advances? That beautiful face… Those dark
eyes will wreck
havoc in many female hearts. They already had. Evelyn
was dead, and her
young sister was locked away in an asylum because of
Julian Luna.
Stephen was sent away. The next time
he returned, almost a year
later, Julian Luna had become Kindred. He never tried
to seduce Julian
again, but his thwarted desire would turn with time into
hatred. He
pretended friendship, and it would take a hundred and
fifty years before
Julian Luna would find out the truth about his blood
brother’s true
nature.
“So… you became Kindred.” Frank and
Julian were sitting on a bench
in the park, and the policeman had listened to the story
without
interrupting. But when the Prince fell silent, Frank
prodded for more.
“Why?”
“I think there are as many reasons
as there are Kindred,” Julian
said. But Frank would not let him avoid the question.
“I wasn’t asking about other people’s
reasons; I’m asking about
yours. Somehow I can’t imagine you coveting immortality
or inhuman
strength or power or...” Frank stopped, blushing, and
Julian smiled.
“No,” he said, “not sex either.” Julian
looked at Frank for a long
moment realizing that he wouldn’t be let off the hook.
He sighed. “It
may sound strange to you, but I wanted invulnerability.”
“Invulnerability?” Frank stared at
the Prince uncomprehending. “But
you told me... remember... you told me that you can be
hurt, that you’re
not invulnerable!”
“Yes, I can be hurt, but... I can’t
be maimed.” Julian shook his
head and looked away. By now Frank knew the Prince well
enough to
interpret his reaction correctly. Julian Luna didn’t
want to talk but
Frank was determined to get to the bottom of this.
“Maimed?” he prodded, and Julian sighed
again.
“Ever since I was a child I have been
afraid of that. You see, I had
a younger brother who lost a finger in an accident. There
were others...
my grandmother was blind. Another relative lost both
legs due to
illness. The slaves were often maimed deliberately because
of petty
crimes. It was terrible. I used to have nightmares...
I saw a slave
branded and castrated. It was in 1845, I’ll never forget
it. There were
no anesthetics, no antibiotics... I can still hear his
screams. He was
my age, fifteen. I had known him all my life, we used
to play together.
I don’t know why it was done to him, I tried to stop
it and was forced
to watch by the adults...” Julian shivered visibly. “They
ripped him
with a pair of old rusty shears. He died of the infection
that developed
in the wound. It took several days, he was in terrible
pain until he
lost consciousness at the end.” Julian fell silent and
Frank didn’t want
to disturb him. It had happened so long ago, yet Frank
could sense the
fear and revulsion that emanated from the Kindred.
He remembers slavery, Frank thought.
He remembers the Civil War; he
remembers both world wars. Somehow it had never registered
with Frank
before. He looked up at Julian and saw that the Prince
was lost deep in
his memories, an expression of horror on his face.
“Something happened to you,” Frank
realized at last. “Before you
became Kindred.”
“Yes,” Julian admitted, “long before.”
Frank leaned back.
“You seem... whole,” he said, and
Julian smiled.
“Yes, I’m whole.” The smile was exchanged
by an expression of pain.
“My father saved me from mutilation. It was in 1847...”
New Orleans - 1847
Julian’s father kept order in his
house with what he believed to be
an iron fist. He would whip his wife, his two sons and
his slaves into
submission. The smarting leather caught Julian more often
than the
others because he tried to protect his mother and his
younger brother,
sometimes even the slaves, against his father’s whip.
He took these
whippings for granted, they were never severe and caused
no injury, but
the whip made a lot of noise and it seemed to satisfy
his father. Then
everything changed.
There was a big family gathering in
his father’s house, and Julian
found himself at the receiving end of Antoinette’s flirtatious
advances.
Antoinette was twenty-one and married to one of Julian’s
cousins. Julian
was seventeen and the raging hormones made him an easy
prey to
Antoinette’s devices. She had sneaked into his bedroom
that very night
and would have seduced him had she not been watched and
followed by her
jealous husband.
The door to Julian’s bedroom was broken
down and several men
attacked him. He was held down as Antoinette’s husband
kicked and beat
him. A hand over his mouth prevented him from screaming.
Then he saw a
flash of a knife and somebody shouted, “cut him”. As
he felt the cold
steel and the heat of the blood gushing over his groin,
he managed to
bite the hand over his face and screamed at the top of
his lungs when it
was jerked away. There was a loud crack of the whip and
the men
scattered. Julian curled into a ball, trying to protect
his injured
parts. He didn’t hear what the men were shouting nor
did he care. He was
quite sure that his father would kill him now, and when
the first lash
of the whip landed on his back it didn’t surprise him.
The loss of blood
and the pain made him faint within minutes.
When he had chased his nephew and
that harlot of his wife out of the
room, Luna lifted his son on the bed and turning him
looked over his
body. He was badly beaten and bruised in several places,
but the cut was
only superficial. The whip had saved Julian from mutilation.
Julian was severely ill for weeks.
An old slave took care of him;
shame prevented his father from calling in a doctor.
The ancient
remedies used by the slave not only healed the wounds
but prevented the
forming of scars. The lacerations on Julian’s back disappeared
without a
trace, even the knife wound healed without leaving a
scar.
Julian never saw the whip in his father’s
hand again. His cousin and
Antoinette never entered their house again. Two years
later the family
moved to California.
Napa Valley – 1856.
Archon contemplated Julian’s apparent
death wish. It upset him. To
let the young man get himself killed would be such a
waste. Six months
had passed since Evelyn had died, but instead of getting
over it, Julian
seemed to sink increasingly deeper into a black, oppressing
depression.
Sometimes he wouldn’t talk to anyone for days, and then
explode in
violent self-accusations. The other men avoided him;
he was too
different and no fun to have around. They didn’t like
him, and besides,
he would respond with violence to the slightest provocation.
Indeed,
Archon was sure that Julian Luna was trying very hard
to get himself
killed, but lacked the guts to commit suicide.
Well, I can do it for you, Archon
thought. But he decided to talk to
Daedalus first.
“It’s for you make the offer, and
for him to decide,” the Nosferatu
said. “But once you tell him about the Masquerade, his
choices will be
limited. Either final death or the death of the Embrace.
Do you want him
dead?”
“No,” Archon was shaking his head,
“no, I don’t. But if he became
Ventrue he might calm down. At least I hope so. He is
intelligent and
might replace Stephen if we educate him. Stephen’s skills
at trading
were formidable, but I couldn’t stomach his perversity
in the end. He
went after Julian Luna, you know.”
Of course, the Nosferatu knew everything.
He grimaced in disgust.
“I don’t mind that he prefers to bed men,
it’s not as unusual as you
think. But he has hurt too many. Once Julian is Embraced,
you can let
Stephen return. He’ll not be able to force himself on
another Kindred.”
They continued devising plans and
discussing different options
during most of the night. It was decided that Archon
would tell Julian
about the Masquerade and offer him the Embrace. If Julian
refused he
would be killed outright.
Archon waited for Julian the next
night. It was long past midnight
when the young man returned from town. He had apparently
gotten into
trouble again. His face was bruised and he had a nasty
bump on the head.
He was also in a foul mood, and finding Archon in his
room made him
belligerent.
“What do you want?” he lashed out
at the older man. “Don’t you ever
sleep?”
“My sleeping habits are none of your
business,” Archon responded
calmly. “But yours are mine.”
Julian stared at his employer, shocked.
Archon had never said
anything impolite to him before.
“You’re working for me, remember?”
Archon continued. “The brawls you
get yourself into create business problems. I want you
to stop acting
like a spoiled child. If you’re trying to end your life,
I can help you.
Do you want to die?!” Archon had raised his voice in
the end, unable to
hide his anger.
Julian paled visibly. Suddenly he
cowered. Hiding his face in his
hands he started to cry.
“I wish I were dead,” he sniveled.
“It’s all my fault. If it weren’t
for me… if I hadn’t… she would still be alive, and my
son wouldn’t be an
orphan.”
Archon sighed. In all sincerity he
couldn’t tell Julian that
Evelyn’s death wasn’t his fault. But no amount of despair
and
self-accusations would bring her back to life.
“Julian,” Archon’s voice softened
considerably, “she might have died
anyway. Many do out here, you know. This is no place
for women. But your
boy still has a father. If you get yourself killed, he’ll
really be an
orphan. You don’t want that, do you?”
Julian shook his head. Archon remembered
the death of his own
daughter at the age of ten, and was able to understand
Julian’s
desolation. But when Archon’s wife died, only a few years
later, he had
felt nothing but relief, freed at last from a loveless
marriage. He had
never married again. Archon was driven by desire for
power and wealth.
The passions of flesh didn’t affect him. As he looked
upon Julian’s
misery, Archon was grateful that he had never loved.
When the young man was possible to
reach again, Archon made him sit
down and listen.
“I have a proposition,” he said. “I
can promise you that the pain
will diminish considerably if you accept.”
Julian Luna did listen. He was young,
strong and healthy. The
longevity, the immense strength, the Kindred powers did
not impress him.
But when Archon told him about the Kindred ability to
heal injuries,
Julian became interested. It was inevitable that Julian
should accept
Archon’s offer to Embrace him. He never asked what would
have happened
if he had refused. Only afterwards did he find out that
he might have
died for good that night. Before the morning came Julian
Luna became
Kindred.
Almost immediately after his Embrace
Julian found out that he had
lost his body language. Although he had been born and
raised in America,
his French ancestry had been quite prevailing. French
had been his first
language and his expressiveness had been quite French
too. When he
talked, his whole body would talk as well, his hands
as busy as his
tongue. Now, it was all gone. It felt as if his body
had somehow become
disconnected from his brain. Yet, there was nothing wrong
with his
perception; he could feel the heat, the cold, the pain
and the touch
just as well as he had done before, only more so. Nor
was there anything
wrong with his reactions. He was stronger, more agile
and quicker than
he had been as a mortal, and his endurance seemed inexhaustible.
Also,
his headaches became quite infrequent and less severe.
As Archon had promised, Julian’s grief
started to subside. He was so
engrossed in his new condition that sometimes several
days passed
without his thinking about his dead wife. And as Archon
had hoped,
Julian Luna calmed considerably. He stopped provoking
saloon brawls
after he had killed a man with his bare hands. He was
just finding out
the extension of his own strength, and had not expected
that he would be
able to break his adversary’s back by simply squeezing
him. It scared
him and he heeded Archon’s warning: never engage in casual
fights with
mortals. It’s forbidden to kill a human, and showing
off Kindred
strength might expose the Masquerade.
Julian Luna never attacked a mortal
again unless he fully intended
to kill him. Fortunately, such events were extremely
rare.
“Are you telling me that you’ve never
killed a human being?” There
was doubt in Frank’s voice, and Julian eyed him suspiciously.
“Can I take the fifth?” he said smiling,
and the policeman made a
contemptuous gesture.
“You told me once that our laws do not apply
to you.”
“Did I?” Julian pretended that he didn’t
remember, but he recalled
the harrowing scene all too well. There was nothing wrong
with his
memory. “We abide by human laws as long as they don’t
threaten us,” he
said at last. “At least I do,” he added, noticing Frank’s
scowl.
But Frank was only trying to hide
his own embarrassment. He had
fired two bullets, almost point blank, aiming at the
heart. For once,
Julian had been wearing something white; the red blotch
had spread on
his chest in front of the policeman’s incredulous eyes.
But the Kindred
had walked away, bleeding and in pain, but alive. Julian
had been
unarmed and had not threatened Frank in any way. If he
had died that
night, it would have been murder. The thought made Frank
shudder.
It was late. Julian got up from the
bench and looked up at the sky.
He was able to see the stars through the polluted air
and haze of the
city lights. His knowledge of astronomy allowed him to
tell the time
exactly.
“Frank, it’s past midnight. I have
to go before they start turning
the city inside out. Before Daedalus really does have
a fit.”
“Uhuh,” Frank got up too. “It’s no
fun being the Prince, is it?” he
teased the Kindred.
“No, it isn’t,” Julian responded quite
seriously.
“Well, I have to go back to work,”
Frank said. “Don’t get lost on
your way home.” He was trying to lighten up Julian’s
grim expression,
and to his surprise, he saw the Kindred smile.”
“I think I will.”
“Will what?” As it often happened,
Frank had lost track of Julian’s
leaps of thought.
“Get lost.”
“Huh?”
“I think I will get lost for the rest
of the night.” Julian seemed
to have forgotten Frank’s presence, as if he were talking
to himself. “I
need to regain my freedom.”
“What will you do, where will you
go?”
Julian shrugged.
“The mansion has become a prison.
Don’t worry, this is my city. I’ll
find someplace to hide.”
Frank looked at the Kindred for a
long moment. At last he reached
into his pocket.
“Here,” he shoved a pair of keys into Julian’s
hand. “Go to my place.
No one will look for you there. I have to go back to
the station,” he
added ignoring Julian’s surprised stare. He walked away
quickly, aware
of the fact that he might have invited disaster into
his own home.
On his way home Frank started to feel
apprehension. He had offered
Julian the possibility to hide in his apartment, but
now he wasn’t sure
that it had been such a good idea. He had given the Kindred
his keys; he
had a spare set in his office and remembered to take
them with him when
it was time to go home. It was almost three a.m.
The door was unlocked. All lights
were out but Frank didn’t need
illumination in order to get around. He took a beer out
of the fridge
and opened it on his way to the bathroom but stopped
halfway, wondering
where Julian was. He turned on the light in the living
room; it was
empty. The door to his bedroom was closed and Frank hesitated
in front
of it. He turned and went to the bathroom. He showered
quickly and swept
a towel around his hips as he walked towards the bedroom,
determined to
chase Julian Luna out of his bed. However, he made sure
to be as quiet
as possible when he entered. The reading lamp at the
head of the bed was
lit. In its light Frank could see that Julian had indeed
fallen asleep
in his bed. He was lying on his stomach, an arm stretched
along his
side, the other bent, the hand under his face. The thin
sheet that
covered him reached halfway up his back. He had left
the covers and the
pillow on the empty half of the bed.
Frank stood looking at the Kindred,
realizing that he had seen
Julian naked once before, when he had attacked him with
a cast-iron
poker at Lillie’s. He sat down and leaned closer to the
sleeping man.
The silence was uncanny although Frank had experienced
it before. Julian
Luna wasn’t breathing, the skin on his shoulder was cold
to Frank’s
touch. He let his hand slide over Julian’s back until
it came to rest a
little to the left of the spine, just beneath the shoulder
blade.
Julian’s heart beat about once every minute.
Frank lay down and drew the covers
over himself after having turned
off the lamp. He was tired but the sleep wouldn’t come
and he was
wondering why he was so tense. After all he had shared
his bed with
Kindred before, Alexandra and Lillie. But Julian Luna
was different -
Julian Luna was a man. It made Frank uncomfortable. He
was aware that
Julian was naked under the thin sheet, and although he
seemed more dead
than alive, his presence was unnerving. The total stillness
calmed Frank
in the end and he fell asleep.
Frank woke up with a start, the echo
of a pleasant dream dying away.
Shocked, he realized that he had rolled over in his sleep
and was
resting against Julian’s chest, whose arm was slung over
his shoulder.
He tried to slide away cautiously but Julian followed
his motion, his
grip around the policeman tightening.
No way! Frank thought. He yanked himself
free from the Kindred’s
hold swearing under his breath. The abrupt movement woke
Julian Luna and
he was instantly aware of where he was and what had happened.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled turning on
his back and sliding away. “It’s
your body-heat, nothing else. I’d not drink your blood.”
Frank raised himself on his elbow
and looked at his bedmate.
Julian’s eyes glittered in the dark and he laughed softly.
It made Frank
angry and embarrassed at the same time.
“Look,” he started placing a hand
on Julian’s chest, but forgot what
he was going to say because instead of the cold lifelessness
his hand
encountered resilient heat. Julian’s skin was now warmer
than Frank’s,
and his heart was beating frantically under the policeman’s
palm. Frank
let his fingers glide over Julian’s chest and leaned
closer. The Kindred
was breathing now, his ribs moved up and down and his
heartbeat had
increased considerably. Frank realized with incredulity
that his own
heartbeat and breath had increased too. Slowly, almost
reluctantly, he
bowed over Julian and kissed him on the mouth. The Kindred
responded to
the kiss without hesitation, and Frank could feel Julian’s
hand move
over his shoulder until it took hold of his neck, holding
on to him,
preventing him from breaking away. Julian put his other
arm around
Frank’s waist and drew him closer, until their bodies
rested against
each other in an intimate embrace. Then, suddenly, Frank
was freed and
pushed away.
“I think we would both regret it,”
Julian said in an uneven voice.
“Let’s not destroy our friendship,” he continued.
Frank was shocked and dismayed. Both
by what he had done and by
Julian’s rejection.
“I can’t believe that I have done
that,” he said. “I’ve never been
interested in having sex with a man!” He eyed Julian
suspiciously
“I didn’t trick you into this,” Julian
said shaking his head.
“Believe me!” He was silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t
have stopped you
if I had,” he added. “Not that it isn’t tempting, but
it’s your
friendship I want, not your body.”
“Tempting?” Frank’s alarm increased,
and Julian smiled in the
semidarkness of the early morning.
“It’s not so much sex but the nearness.
I’m not gay. Ever since
Caitlin died I’ve been very careful not to let anybody
come too close.
I’m afraid of getting hurt again, I guess. Still, I miss
it.”
Frank stared at him. He had lost track
of what Julian was saying.
“Miss what?” he asked outright.
“The closeness of another person.
Someone for whom I care,” Julian
answered, and Frank heard the note of sadness in the
Kindred’s voice.
“You... care for me?” he asked softly.
“I do,” Julian responded. “You remind
me of myself... when I was
mortal. You must feel it too. After all, you know what
I am and what I
can do but you have never been afraid of me.”
Frank couldn’t help laughing.
“Well, that’s true,” he said. Suddenly
he was serious again. “I
don’t know why I did it, kiss you I mean. You didn’t
seem surprised or
upset or... reluctant.”
“You did surprise me, that’s why I
didn’t... You see, I’m not afraid
of you either.”
“I don’t follow your reasoning,” Frank
said.
“If you had scared me, I would have
reacted differently,” Julian
responded.
“Oh,” was all of Frank’s comment.
“Frank!” Suddenly there was agitation
in Julian’s voice. “I’m
straight. The little experience of homosexuality that
I had was, except
for one incident, unpleasant in the extreme.”
Frank was trying to understand what
Julian had said. It took some
time. He stared at the Prince, trying to imagine what
he was about to
say. Trying to see him as a young boy, a teenager maybe,
slender,
beautiful and vulnerable.
“You were sexually abused!” Frank
concluded with incredulity. He saw
Julian square his shoulders.
“Sexually abused!” The Prince laughed
derisively. “The euphemisms
you humans use!” He got up abruptly as if he intended
to leave, flee
from something, but stopped himself. His eyes focused
on the policeman’s
face.
“Frank,” he spoke evenly, “I was tortured
and raped until I lost
consciousness, and when I regained it, I was tortured
and raped again.
Had I been human, in all likelihood I wouldn’t have survived...”
Frank could just stare, shocked.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
”Why, you didn’t do it,” Julian responded.
“You couldn’t do anything
to stop either. It happened in New York.”
“When... when did it...” Frank’s voice
trailed off as he suddenly
remembered and Julian nodded.
“Yes, even you noticed that I had
been... mistreated.” He looked
away again and this time Frank didn’t have the guts to
pursue the
subject. He contemplated for a moment what Julian had
told him.
“You said something about an incident...”
he started and Julian
laughed a rather nervous laugh.
“I didn’t say anything about it but
I bet you’d notice,” he said. “I
did have sex with a man once... no, wrong, I allowed
him to have sex
with me. I didn’t like it.”
“You didn’t, huh?”
“No!” Julian shivered a little. “I
didn’t like it at all.” A shadow
of a smile crossed the Prince’s features. “However,”
he continued, “it
was an interesting experience, not totally unpleasant.
I did enjoy it in
a way, if you can understand that.”
Frank didn’t even try to understand.
“Archon?” he asked only and Julian
laughed again.
“The only time Archon ever touched
me was when he Embraced me. If he
ever wanted more I was never aware of it.”
Or was I? Julian wondered. It’s perfectly
true that Archon never
touched me but... did he want to? And did I know it?
Was I flaunting my
love affairs in his face in order to keep him at a distance?
Well, it
doesn’t matter now! He smiled at Frank’s expression.
“Archon was my Sire,” he said. “He
was a father to me for fifteen
decades. My own father died only a few months after my
wedding.”
“What happened to him, I mean your
father?” Frank asked.
“Auri sacra fames.”
“Hey, I don’t speak French,” Frank
pointed out.
“It’s Latin. Accursed desire for gold.”
But for some reason that he couldn’t
understand Frank felt suddenly
offended.
“You don’t have to throw my lack of
education right in my face!” he
said angrily, making Julian frown.
“Frank, nobody speaks Latin nowadays.
It’s just a quotation. As
regards education, when I was your age I could read and
write and count
without using my fingers, that’s all. In case it hasn’t
registered with
you I might point out that I have been around for more
than a hundred
and sixty years. I’ve had time to pick up a few things.”
“I’m sorry,” Frank felt rather stupid
and put off. “I guess I just
never gave it a thought. Somehow I imagined that you’re
my age, younger
as a matter of fact.” Frank’s mistake was understandable.
Julian Luna
did look younger than the policeman, no matter how much
he tried to
appear more mature. “So, your father succumbed to the
lure of gold, but
you didn’t. How come?”
“I was otherwise engaged.”
“Otherwise engaged?” The tone of Frank’s
voice made Julian turn red
in the face. The policeman had guessed right: while Luna
senior was
involved in the pursuit of gold, Julian had fallen in
love.
Napa Valley - 1856
What first attracted Julian’s attention
to Evelyn was her unusual
coloring. Her skin was so white that it seemed to glow.
Whenever she
became embarrassed, which happened easily, her whole
face, neck and ears
would turn pink and that would embarrass her even more.
Her straight
hair was blonde, golden as ripe wheat and her eyes were
deep blue. It
took Julian no time to notice how beautiful she was although
everything
in her appearance tried to deny that. She used no make-up
and she wore
her hair in an ugly bun that hung down her neck. Only
spectacles were
lacking to make her look like a spinstery schoolteacher.
Julian looked
at her pink lips, merely a shade darker than her skin,
and was
embarrassed by his own thought. He had caught himself
wondering whether
her nipples were as light pink as her lips.
Evelyn and her seven years younger
sister had come to California
with their uncle and his family. The man had come to
dig for gold and
was only too happy to be rid of one of his nieces; one
mouth less to
feed. Julian and Evelyn were married only a month after
they had met in
his father’s office, were he conducted his business,
mostly buying gold
from the men who had found it. It wasn’t poverty that
had sent the Luna
family to the other side of America but sheer greed of
Julian’s father.
Julian had never known poverty and never would. It was
the one misery
that he would be spared. But at the moment any thoughts
of money and
gold were even more distant than they had been when he
had first arrived
in California six years ago. He had dutifully worked
with his father
just as did his brother, and was quite satisfied with
whatever his
father paid him. Luna Senior considered himself quite
a shrewd
businessman and Julian never challenged that, the way
his brother
sometimes would. Right now Julian was scared witless
as he faced his
bride on their wedding night.
Ever since Julian had turned fifteen,
he seemed to be in a perpetual
state sexual excitement. The young white girls were of
course
unreachable, protected and watched as nuns in a convent.
The white women
weren’t interested in teenage boys. That left the slaves.
Although the
slaves had no legal rights they were nevertheless protected
by unwritten
laws. It was of course different in the countryside,
but in the city
‘things’ were known. A white man who had a black mistress
was regarded
with contempt. If a white man raped a white woman he
would face dire
legal consequences, but if he raped a slave he would
become a social
pariah. Whatever means he might use to intimidate a slave
into becoming
his mistress would pass as long as he didn’t resort to
violence. The
poor slaves would sell their bodies for the promise that
their children
wouldn’t be sold, better food, lighter duties or gifts,
but outright
force was seldom used. Some learned to take advantage
of their owner’s
lust. A few were genuinely loved. Julian learned very
quickly that small
gifts would buy the attention of slave girls. They would
consent to be
‘friendly’ but would not sleep with him, and he was of
course too
inexperienced and too shy to demand that. But their kisses
and caresses
were quite satisfactory. Like any young boy Julian was
easy to please.
There was one girl however, Arlette, a little older than
the others, who
demanded more than gifts and sweets. She taught Julian
that women could
enjoy kisses and touch as much as he did. He could still
remember the
fearful surprise that overwhelmed him when he first felt
her nipple
harden against his palm. Due to Arlette’s demand for
pleasure, without
ever having slept with her or any other woman, Julian
had learned more
about female sexuality than many married men had. Still,
he was sick
with nervousness when he and Evelyn were at last left
alone. Arlette’s
teachings would come to good use, preventing their wedding
night from
becoming a total disaster. Evelyn had no knowledge about
sex whatsoever.
She held him as he shuddered in his
release, watched his face
contorting, listened to his cries.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in
a fearful voice, but he shook his head
smiling shakily.
“It feels so good,” he whispered.
“I thought you were in pain.” Evelyn
wasn’t convinced.
“It feels so good that it hurts,”
Julian responded.
He had managed to elicit response
from her with his kisses and
caresses. Determined to overcome her shyness she had
relaxed and enjoyed
his touch until her body reacted in a way that it almost
scared her. The
intensity of the pleasure brought tears to her eyes.
But when Julian
started to make love to her, the very act of penetration
was enough to
send him over the edge and he peaked within seconds,
much too soon for
his own liking. He had wanted the pleasure to last longer.
It worked a
little better the next time they made love that night,
but it took
Julian several weeks before he learned to control his
own reactions well
enough to be satisfied with his own performance, as well
as to allow his
wife time to enjoy herself.
“So… what happened to your wife?” Frank
inquired.
“She died in childbirth.”
No amount of prodding helped. Julian
refused to say anything more
about his wife, and his expression told Frank that he
was overstepping
the line. He let it rest. Frank had lost his wife too;
it made him
understand Julian’s reluctance. He changed the subject.
“Alright, what about this incident
you mentioned before, who was
it?”
“You won’t leave it alone, will you?”
Julian was apparently ill at
ease, but Frank was sure that another opportunity to
find out as much as
he could about Julian Luna might never present itself.
He knew that he
probably wouldn’t dare to invite the Prince to spend
the night in his
apartment again.
“C’mon, you already told me that you
did. It wasn’t Daedalus, was
it? He isn’t the sort…”
Julian was shaking his head.
“No, no, it was Arthur. My loyal bodyguard.
The one who took care of
Caitlin.”
Frank recalled the tall, blond man.
“Yes, I remember him. But I haven’t
seen him around for… uh, two
years?”
“He died.” Julian’s voice was filled
with pain. “The very day when…
he was killed saving my life.”
“How come you two ended up in bed
all of a sudden.”
“A mistake. I found myself in a situation
which required that I
pretended to be gay. Arthur was at hand. I asked him
to teach me how to
behave and… well, I let it go too far, that’s all there
was to it.”
“But… you knew he was gay, didn’t
you?” Frank was trying to
understand. “Didn’t it bother you?”
“Yes, I knew, and no, it didn’t bother
me.” Julian was shrugging.
“Why should it? He never did anything… wrong. He was
a loyal friend and
a trusted bodyguard. I just didn’t see… lack of imagination,
I guess.”
San Francisco - 1989
Julian clamped his teeth together
until it hurt, preventing laughter
from spilling forth.
If I start giggling now, he’ll cut
off my head, he thought.
Still, it was difficult to keep the
hilarity in check. The human was
holding a big knife against his throat, the serrated
edge had already
seared the skin slightly, and a few droplets of blood
trickled down
towards Julian’s collar. The knife was pressed against
his carotid
artery, and Julian knew that a wrong move might get him
killed, the
absurdity of the situation notwithstanding.
In spite of his newly acquired status
as the Prince of the city,
Julian Luna had sneaked away from the mansion without
guards, and had
gone to one of his favorite clubs. He had always enjoyed
being among
humans, people who didn’t know who or what he was. This
was one of the
more expensive places; it provided good music, excellent
wines and
amiable company. Julian was one of the regular customers
and would
always get one of the best tables. Many homosexual men
frequented the
club and some of them had tried to approach Julian in
the past. He had
always declined their invitations politely, and they
would leave him
alone. After all, he was a well-known womanizer, and
the ladies used him
as much as he used them. However, one of the gay men
became Julian’s
friend. A tall, well built, fair man, with an unbelievable
Spanish
accent, Arthur had a black belt in karate, and he had
decided that
Julian was in need of his protection. Julian’s assurances
that he was
quite capable of taking care of himself and didn’t need
Arthur’s help to
fend off any unwanted passes went past Arthur’s ears
unheard or at least
unheeded.
“You’re scaring off the ladies,” Julian
often told Arthur, but the
gay man only laughed.
“You’re leaving with a woman in tow
every time you come here.
There’s no reason for you to complain,” Arthur retorted,
and it was
Julian’s turn to laugh.
In fact Julian appreciated Arthur’s
company. The young mortal was
indeed from Spain, but had inherited his unusual coloring
from his Dutch
mother. After her death, Arthur’s father took him, his
two younger
sisters, and some other relatives and immigrated to America.
They had
settled in San Francisco from the very start and ten
years later Arthur
had a degree engineering. He didn’t know that he was
working for one of
the companies that Julian owned. It was perfectly true
that Julian Luna
would not need Arthur’s or anybody else’s help if he
were attacked by
humans. He was much stronger and swifter than any mortal
was, but to get
involved in a fight with a human might expose the Masquerade,
and that
had to be avoided at all costs. Arthur’s rather intimidating
presence
helped to keep would-be attackers at bay when Julian’s
own bodyguards
weren’t around. Because there was something about Julian
Luna that
infuriated other men. There was an air of superiority
and confidence, of
barely concealed contempt, that provoked mortal males
to violence,
especially when they were drunk.
“You’re too handsome for your own
good,” one of his adversaries once
commented. “Someone will remodel that beautiful face
one day.”
Julian had not been surprised. He
had gotten into trouble because of
his looks before. In spite of the popular belief, Kindred
could see
their reflection in the mirror, and Julian had seen his
own face often
enough, unchanging through the ages, realizing long ago
why women found
him irresistible and why men resented him. Although he
had always tried
to stay away from any conflict with humans, Arthur had
nevertheless
noticed that Julian was different. The Kindred didn’t
know what the
mortal suspected until Arthur knocked over a glass filled
with wine.
Julian reacted without thinking, moving swifter than
could bee seen. He
caught the glass just before it hit the floor, preventing
it from
shattering. Only the wine sloshed over his hand. He put
the glass back
on the table and reached for a napkin to clean his hand
when his gaze
met Arthur’s. He recognized the expression on the other
man’s face. It
was utter disbelief and Julian knew then that the glass
had been knocked
over deliberately. He felt his anger rise and fled before
Arthur could
see his eyes turn bright green.
He had been standing in front of the
mirror for several minutes,
waiting for his anger to die down, watching his eyes
return to their
normal brown color. Someone came in while he was washing
the wine from
his hands and Julian only cast a glance at the new arrival,
making sure
that it wasn’t Arthur. He was in no mood for any interrogation.
I must never come back here, he thought.
He was wondering whether he should
try to find out what Arthur knew
and make him forget what he had seen. He was so absorbed
by his own
thoughts that he didn’t notice what was happening until
he saw the
reflection of the man that had come in suddenly loom
behind him, and
felt the knife being pressed against his neck.
Julian stood absolutely still. Although
he was infuriated by the
fact that he had allowed the man to attack him, he didn’t
intend to lose
his head or harm the mortal over whatever the man was
after. As he
looked down he was able to see the hairy hand that was
holding the
knife. It shook unsteadily.
“The money is in my left breast pocket,”
Julian said. He didn’t know
how much money he had but losing it would be of no significance.
Except
for the shame of being robbed in the men’s room in his
favorite club.
The man’s other arm came around Julian,
but instead of searching his
pockets it started tugging at his belt. Julian was so
surprised that he
didn’t understand what his attacker was after until he
was grabbed so
hard that he flinched in pain, and the knife made another
notch in his
skin.
“Now I’ve got you,” the man hissed
in his ear. “Don’t move!”
Julian was thinking furiously. Being
robbed was one thing, but this…
A wave of nausea swept trough him but he ignored it,
devising ways of
getting the knife away from his neck. A couple of inches
would be
enough. He looked at the reflection of the red face of
the attacker in
the mirror, then closed his eyes, but not entirely. He
could still see
the hand with the knife. He let all his muscles turn
limp and leaned
against the heaving chest behind him, although everything
inside him
screamed in disgust at the unpleasant touch. His knees
buckled and he
started to slide along the man’s torso towards the floor.
“Hey!” The man was shouting. “Don’t
faint!”
That was the most idiotic demand I’ve
ever heard, Julian thought.
Then the hand with the knife was gone,
but as the arm was closing
around Julian’s waist, he decided to heed the ‘idiotic
demand’. The
molester would never know what happened; the human perception
just isn’t
quick enough to follow a Kindred’s blindingly fast movements.
Julian
twisted within the man’s hold with a cat’s agility, and
his hand closed
on the exposed windpipe. His fingers squeezed it with
inhuman strength
and he watched coldly the eyes of his attacker bulge
as he ripped his
throat out. For Julian everything was happening in slow
motion. The
clatter of the knife as it hit the floor. The flailing
hands that were
moving towards the wound as if something could be done
to stop the blood
that was splashing over Julian’s face with rhythmic bursts.
He was so
sickened by what the attacker had been trying to do that
the blood only
increased his disgust instead of evoking hunger, making
him think that
his humanity wasn’t totally gone. A strange thought,
considering that he
had just killed a mortal. The sound of the door opening
and Arthur’s
concerned voice, distant yet demanding attention.
“Julian, are you alright? You’ve been
gone for so long…”
Then there was silence for one second
before the body fell. Julian
looked at it and then threw down the piece of flesh that
he was still
holding in his hand. He turned facing Arthur. Arthur’s
gaze traveled
between the dead man and Julian’s disheveled clothes
and blood-covered
hands and face. The blood didn’t hide Julian Luna’s green
stare.
“He wasn’t trying to rob you, was
he?” Arthur’s voice was level,
there was no hint of what he was thinking or what he
intended to do.
Julian shook his head.
“No, he…”
“I know, he has done it before.”
Arthur bolted the door and came closer.
Julian took an involuntary
step back, but Arthur only took hold of his arm and turned
him around.
His hand moved towards the tap.
“Clean yourself,” he ordered. “I will
help you get away unnoticed,
but it won’t work if you look like Jack the Ripper.”
To his surprise Julian started to
laugh.
“It’s no laughing matter!”
“You’ll find it difficult to believe,
but I helped to catch Jack the
Ripper.” He started to splash cold water in his face.
Once the blood was
washed off he put his clothes in order and faced Arthur
again. The human
was watching him intently.
“I thought he was never caught,” Arthur
said at last.
“He was caught alright,” Julian responded.
“But he was never tried
in a public court.”
“And?”
“He was condemned and executed.”
Arthur eyed Julian suspiciously.
“Whatever happened to Jack the Ripper,
happened at least a hundred
years ago.”
Julian Luna smiled.
“Almost exactly.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” Arthur
said at last. “I don’t
believe that you’re the devil, but you’re no angel either.
Are you going
to tell me what you are?”
“I will. But not here. Let’s get away
from this carnage.”
They managed to sneak out of the club
unnoticed.
“I didn’t make it up to get away with
murder,” Julian was saying,
exasperated. He didn’t know what reaction he had expected
from Arthur,
but it certainly wasn’t disbelief. “You can believe me
or not,” he
continued, “but helping me to get away makes you an accomplice
after the
fact. If you go to the police and...”
“I won’t go to the police,” Arthur
interrupted him. “That guy had it
coming. As I told you before, this wasn’t the first time
he had attacked
someone, although he usually did with more success.”
Arthur laughed
mirthlessly. “It was his bad luck that he eventually
had to run into
you. I’ve seen him stalking you for quite some time.
That’s why I tried
to stay at your side. I thought you needed protection.
Apparently not.”
Julian shook his head in mock sadness.
“I’ve told you that I am in no need
of protection. As you saw, I’m
quite capable of protecting myself.” He was quiet for
a short moment.
“You were not supposed to see what I can do. I wish you
hadn’t.”
“Well, I did.” Arthur’s heavy Spanish
accent was more pronounced
than ever; he was too nervous to control that. Julian
on the other hand
was a picture of serenity. This wasn’t the first time
his secret had
been exposed, and by now he knew how he could deal with
the situation.
There were several options. He could make Arthur forget
what had
happened by mesmerizing him and pushing the memory into
the young man’s
subconscious. He could Embrace him, if that were Arthur’s
wish. He could
kill him. Arthur was big, strong and well trained, but
he would be no
match for Julian Luna, the new Prince of the City.
Arthur chose to become Kindred.
When Julian introduced his new bodyguard
to Archon, the older
Kindred felt apprehension. He remembered Stephen all
too well. Stephen,
whom he had sent off to Washington State, when it was
still a
wilderness. He had done that to keep Stephen away from
Julian Luna. A
disaster had been avoided. Would Arthur become a new
Stephen?
“Not much of a bodyguard,” Archon
commented when he and Julian were
alone. “After all, he is gay.”
“So was Alexander the Great,” Julian
had retorted, silencing his
Sire effectively.
Archon realized immediately that Arthur
had fallen in love with
Julian Luna. But he was not an abuser like Stephen, and
Archon decided
to let it rest. Julian wouldn’t notice anyway. Arthur
became a valuable
associate and friend of the Prince.
Julian Luna found out that his trusted
bodyguard was in love with
him on the day Arthur was killed.
Frank looked out. The sun had risen
almost an hour ago. He cast a
glance at Julian Luna who was putting on his coat, ready
to leave. He
looked as neat as he always did. Every hair in place,
his pale face well
shaved, his clothes in perfect order.
“Is it all right for you to go out
now?” Frank asked. “It’s full
daylight out there.”
Julian nodded.
“There is no danger,” he said, “yet.
But I must go. I need to get
some sleep. We’ve talked away most of the night.”
Frank made a wide grin.
“I want to hear more. There’s a gap
of more than a hundred years
left.”
Julian sighed in exasperation.
“I don’t feel like telling you the
story of my whole life. It hasn’t
been all that exciting.”
“Well, tell me what you think was
important.”
Julian looked at Frank for a long
moment.
“You have an uncanny way of dragging
whatever you wish out of me. Is
this how you found out about us from Alexandra? She disclosed
the
Masquerade to you and condemned herself death by doing
it. If you drag
too much out of me, it might prove fatal to you. To both
of us.”
“What do you mean?” Frank was taken
aback.
“Just remember, you have been warned.”
Julian left Frank to ponder over his
last remark.
Nobody made any fuss when Julian returned
to the mansion in
midmorning. Daedalus pretended that he hadn’t noticed
that the Prince
had been absent all night. The servants and guards went
about their
business as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Of course, it was the Nosferatu who
had sensed that Julian was about
to revolt. Daedalus gave the orders when the Prince wasn’t
around. This
time he told everybody that they must stop treating Julian
Luna as if he
were mentally retarded or the ‘goddamned pope’.
From that day on, Julian was able
to have some privacy even when he
left the mansion, and the guards never protested when
he told them to
get lost. But he seldom did that. Julian Luna had made
his point, and
although he was not the ‘goddamned pope’, he was the
Prince of the city,
and inevitably attended as one.
---