Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

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Forgive Me

As the night wore on, I found myself wondering about the knot forming in my stomach. One of the unfortunate side effects of being a seer is the uncanny ability to sense the strangest things. A wicked set of eyes upon me; the intent of evil beings when they mean harm or malice to others. Much of that has had to be tempered, as my own intentions toward a mortal can be less than noble, especially as of late. Embracing what I am has forced things to be as such, but it is a path I care little for retreating from as I find peace with my vampire nature at long last.

So, these whispers and chills have taken on a different form. Intuition, some call it. That heavy weight which deposits itself on my shoulders when I scent something in the air without a face or name. Once upon a time, I boasted of great power and wielded it with authority. I used to gather energy to my fingertips and use it to throw man and vampire alike around like rag dolls, but such had not been the case for years. At best, I became a petty magician after Monica’s death.

Things were different now, though. Ever since meeting Victor, my past had the habit of surfacing during my most private moments with my lover. Years ago, I swore never to speak of who or what I was to any depth and only violated this covenant with Robin and, in very limited instances, with Celeste. Now, though, I spent hours with Victor, exchanging stories over who we were to the deepest, most intimate parts of ourselves. I spoke names I had stricken from my lips. I shed tears I bottled years ago. I explored my abilities in more depth behind closed doors after demonstrating them to Victor.

I opened the doors wide and allowed somebody into the innermost recesses of myself.

As such, the quiet of the day began to unsettle me. As was custom for me, I spent the afternoon inside my study, helping my brother edit his journals via email and picking away at a few pieces of my own. Music streamed from my headphones, keeping me wrapped tight in a cocoon of sound and memory and hours passed until I happened to glance at the clock. I furrowed my brow. Sunset came and left at least an hour ago and yet, there I sat, still listening to the same play list I started when I came in earlier.

Standing to stretch, I frowned as the twisting of my stomach commenced, my mind rifling through the typical evenings I enjoyed. By now I had either been called out to the veranda by Celeste, or Victor had brought me back to reality with a kiss placed on my shoulder. Certainly, each night brought with it some variance on the way it all played out, but for me to be sitting alone at this hour startled me. My thoughts strayed to one person in particular.

I immediately wondered about Victor.

I had not heard anything from him all day and while he was the most apt of the three of us to sleep through the day, still the silence bore an eeriness to it. I turned off the light in my study, compelled toward the wing of the house he owned for some peculiar reason, but paused mid-step. Furrowing my brow, I glanced back in the direction of the veranda and thought to inquire with Celeste first, halfway expecting to find both my lovers out there waiting for me.

Instead, only Celeste sat in her chair, a book in hand, her legs crossed while she nursed a drink on the table beside her. Her eyes shot up to meet mine when I walked in and the crestfallen expression on my face had to have communicated a hundred things. “Beloved?” she asked, brow knitted. “Is something the matter?”

I scanned the entirety of the area before me, as though Victor might be blending in with the furniture and my eyes might miss him otherwise. “No, I…” I paused. “I do not know. Have you seen Victor?”

“Non.” Celeste shook her head. “Not this evening yet.”

Her words pierced through my heart worse than a sharpened blade even though I had no notion of why. Nowhere in the simplicity of five words was there any cause for me to experience the sudden burst of fright which overcame me and yet, I was jostled from my conversation with her enough to run back in the direction I came and sprint for the bedroom Victor occupied when he wished for privacy.

Damning the consequences, I swung the door to his bedroom wide open, calling out to him, “Maestro?!” I looked around the room. “Lover mine? Are you here?”

Noting only in the faintest recesses of my mind that my actions would have appeared quite odd had he been there, I yet persisted into the room, once again taking stock of every fixture and piece of furniture within its confines as though Victor would be hiding. I opened closet doors and glanced around each corner. I closed my eyes and drew in deeply, smelling only the lingering aura of his scent and not the potent aroma of his presence. I opened my eyes and settled on the edge of his bed, seeing nothing but an empty room surrounding me, choking me.

I swallowed hard and felt tears brim in my eyes. “Where the devil are you? Please, God, do not fucking do this to me now.”

The sound of my voice resonated throughout the room with alarming dissonance. I raised an eyebrow at these words and if Celeste’s simple message was enough to jar me, the plea toward the divine impacted me that much harder. The combination of bitter speech and blood tears left me wondering in a portion of my psyche why I was reacting in such a manner. And yet, my voice wavered when I spoke as though I already lost that which I held so dear.

My hands raised to my face, rubbing at my eyes before settling on my lap again. ‘Please, God do not fucking do this to me now.’ I might as well have finished the statement. ‘Do not take him from me. I need him too much for that.’ The powers-that-be always seemed content to rob me of what meant most to me, ripping them away somehow, and as I sat in Victor’s room, I thought about Monica. I thought about the night I realized I would never have my wife and companion back again; the night I set out to kill myself by watching the sun burn me to cinders.

Robin rescued me from one dance with the daylight. Would my brother do it for me again?

I shook my head. I rose shakily to my feet. No, this time, I would leave no tracks for anybody to follow wherever I went. I would sit on the ledge of a cliff and cry bitterly, watching the dark sky lighten, tasting only my tears while whispering, “Lover mine, save a place for me. I am coming to join you in death.” His name would be on my lips as I burned and would resonate in the air around me before being dissipated by the wind.

“Stop that.” I knocked myself from the morbid thought and pinched the bridge of my nose. “He’s alright, damn it. You are overreacting and he is going to return and see you like this and then what? What the bloody hell are you going to tell him? That you feared his death and plotted your own suicide? Lovely, Peter. Lovely.” I sighed, wishing I had some way of figuring out where he had gotten to, though, if just to settle my own nerves.

Suddenly, my mind traced back to the past, as though the Maestro himself plucked the string of memory.

I remembered a time in what seemed like another life when I stood in the midst of an empty room with Monica, looking for several friends of hers who had suddenly gone missing. Touching the wall, I focused hard enough on the shadows of their presence to summon voices and pictures of their last actions in the room. When the echoes which filtered through me showed them to be in peril, I knew exactly what I had to do.

In the here and now, I only had my own paranoia, but it was just enough for me to glance at my hand and peer at the wall, eyebrow perked and indecision playing out within me. Dare I attempt it again after so many years? Walking to the other side of Victor’s room, I stole a moment for a deep breath and fingered the wall, feeling only paint and plaster at first. I closed my eyes, though. I indulged in a deep breath. I spoke the words as though an incantation. “Fates, show me my lover. I need to ensure he is alright.”

At once, it was as though the flood gates opened and there I stood, the recipient of imagery with my hand the conduit. A scene played out before me of my lover, standing across the room from where I stood, his back to me as it seemed his mind remained heavily lost in thought. I smiled at the sight of him on reflex, taking stock of him through the eyes of love and allowing the sentiments he inspired to wash over me like a tidal wave.

Victor turned around. It was then that my smile faltered. The expression on his face pained at best, he looked to be lost in some very troubled ruminations and yet, I stood on the other side of a portal unable to offer him any measure of comfort. Instead, I merely held on to the wall and watched while he settled onto the bed, elbows on his knees and hands cradling his head. Lacking the ability to read his mind in this state, I could only watch him rifle through his thoughts in silence.

It was then I saw his eyes begin to glisten. A tear ran down his cheek, leaving a faint trail of crimson in its wake, and everything within me cried out to run to him and throw my arms around him. Except, I could not. My own eyes became glassy while I watched more tears slide down Victor’s cheeks, but my lover himself seemed oblivious to the fact that he was crying. Instead, he broke the silence with two words. “Forgive me,” he whispered, his gaze yet distant. The words seemed to jostle him from his thoughts, but did nothing to ease whatever suffering held him tight within its throes.

“Forgive you?” I whispered to the ghost before me. “Forgive you of what, lover?” I asked the question knowing I would receive no answer, but struggling desperately to figure out what had him so morose. Victor stood. I watched him roll up his sleeves and walk toward the windows. Eyes widening, I saw him reach for the curtain and cried out, “No! No… Victor… God, no, do not…”

But my words fell on deaf ears and the curtain parted, allowing for a brilliant stream of light from the sun to enter and spill upon the floor in front of him. Victor raised his hand. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice turning panicked. Tears ran down my face in rivulets. He lifted his arm enough to bring it into the stream of sunshine and I gasped in absolute horror while the light became corrosive and ate away his skin.

“Victor!!” I yelled, this time attempting to speak with the ghost of my lover regardless of its impossibility. “Victor, no!! Damn it…. NO!” I quaked and trembled while the skin flaked off as ash and Victor cried out against the pain while refusing to pull his hand away. His digits smoldered and the hairs on his arm singed, and yet he refused to pull his hand away. “Victor!!!” I screamed. “Victor!!!! No… damn it… please… stop this now!!”

And then the curtain fell shut. My lover held onto the wall beside him with his good hand while cradling the charred remnants of his hand and arm against his chest. I continued weeping, able to do precious little else while Victor struggled with the agony of his self-inflicted wound. “Please tell me,” I said. “Why would you do this? Why would you hurt yourself in such a manner? My maestro… my lover… why?” Even if he could hear me, Victor would have had no chance to respond. He turned toward the bed and stumbled, fell back against the wall and slid to the ground. I watched him waver before he slumped to the ground.

I could contain myself no longer.

Diving for him, I released my hold on the wall and in severing my connection, I lost the imagery of what transpired. Victor’s ghost disappeared and the room around me returned to its previous state, the darkness of night replacing the daylight which had just assaulted my senses. Knees buckling to the ground, I threw my hands, palms down, before me to brace the fall and shook my head. No, I had to see what happened after this. Where did he go if he was no longer here?

I stood. I stumbled for the wall. I tried hard to concentrate on the past, but found myself too distraught to conjure the vision once more. Slapping the wall with anger seething from my pores, I screamed at it, “No… you fucking piece of shit, give me back that image now!!” but regardless of how loudly I yelled, the moment was lost to me. I slid to the floor, cheek pressed against the wall while I beat on the plaster, sobs rising from my chest with gut wrenching sickness. “Victor,” I murmured in a pitiful manner. “Lover… where are you?”

I could not figure it out, what had me so distraught that I could not conjure one more piece of the puzzle? While my rational mind told me he must have woken and set out to feed, I found myself entertaining the most crippling notions within my mind. What if the curtain opened while he was disabled? What if he set out to feed and something took advantage of him in his weakened condition? No ash laid on the ground before me, but yet my mind could not help but to spin wild with scenarios.

Bringing myself to my feet, I stumbled for the door and raced out to the hallway.

My feet could not seem to outrun the crippling anguish poised to capture me. I raced past Celeste as she emerged in the hall and failed to pause even when she called after me and ran part of the way to pursue me. Reaching my study, I closed the door and locked it behind me. At precisely that moment, my knees gave out and I fell to the ground. Too much; it was all too much. Why had he done such a thing to himself? What would have caused the man I love to part those curtains, bereaved or not?

“You are what matters most to me.” I spoke the words to the nothingness in my study and furrowed my brow at the statement. So many things laid behind the words in layers which might as well have measured fifty fathoms deep. Words spoken to Victor, they were spoken to plead with him to defend himself against even Flynn because I could not bear the thought of waking from the other side of a veil to discover the assassin who resided within me had ended my lover. In those words, though, I found the contents of my heart laid bare before me.

I loved him so much, I would surrender anything for him.

My very life. I would lay it before him and give it to him gladly if I had to because he resided in the innermost portions of my psyche. He made it his home and I spoke the words over and over to myself within the confines of my study because therein resided an epiphany. Nothing else weighed against him. Nothing else compared. Anything else formed a pale shadow and a blood bond forged the pact between us. Wove us together into the tapestry we oft cited to one another when we spoke of the threads braiding tight until neither of us could tell where one ended and the other began.

Why those words, though? The riddle itched at me. Yes, God, yes, I loved Victor more than life itself. I confessed as much to my heart and to the air surrounding me, but there was more to it than this. ‘You are what matters most to me.’ I heard myself speaking to Victor again and listened as he responded to me in kind.

‘And you are what matters most to me.’

‘Forgive me.’

I swiped at the tears on my cheeks and gasped as it all made sense to me at last, why he had been acting so melancholy lately, why he parted that curtain and allowed the sunlight to char his flesh. My mind whipped back to the vision of him shedding tears within the confines of his bedroom and it was as though his thoughts suddenly became transparent before me. I begged him to assure me he would defend himself against the assassin, but I added a clause. ‘Regardless of what that means.’ Unto death; I meant it, too, because I would sooner die than know my hands were the ones which ended my lover, regardless of which personality was in the driver’s seat. But in pleading for this assurance, I had done something to Victor.

I was placing the same burden in his hands.

Flashes of Victor and Flynn matched in a tête-à-tête replaced the memory of him sitting on his bed, only this time I regarded the match from the perspective of the man I loved so deeply. I saw him looking at me, seeing his Poet even if the glint in my eyes belonged to my alter ego. I saw Victor weighing his steps, my blade to his chest with his blade poised above my heart. He would be unable to deliver the fatal blow. The arm charred into ash would become an entire body, succumbing to the assassin with the final words on his lips being… “Forgive me…”

I trembled, drawing my knees up to my chest. Hugging them, I buried my face against them while weeping bitterly to myself. How could I do such a thing to him, even if the intentions of my heart had been altogether selfless? Was it not the most selfish thing in the world for me to ask Victor to spare me the grief of Flynn’s actions by permitting me the kiss of death? “No, my lover… forgive me,” I said, lowering my legs out before me, swiping at the rivulets of crimson on my face while fresh tears replaced the ones I wiped away. My eyes settled on the bookcase mounted to the wall before me.

This was when I spoke the pledge aloud.

“No matter what happens, my maestro, I promise I shall do everything in my power to prevent such a thing from ever happening.” The rest of the statement tacked on as a thought. ‘Because I love you too much. Because I need you too much. Because in as much as you could not bear to be without me, I could not bear to be without you, lover. You are my existence, my eternity, my immortality. I love you with every measure of my heart.’

Bringing myself to a tentative stand, I held onto the wall while unlocking the door to my study and walked into the bathroom to wash my face. My composure would take much longer to settle into order, but I ensured the tears I shed were gone before I turned off the light and emerged into the hallway. No sooner did I turn, though, than a figure stopped no more than a few feet away. I lifted my gaze and fought against a lump forming in my throat as Victor peered back at me from where he stood.

I stole a moment to glance at his hand. The injury still apparent and mending slowly, it nearly inspired me to lose all sense of rationale and forced my eyes back to his again. “Maestro,” I said, for the lack of a better thing to break the silence.

He attempted a smile. “Poet,” he said in response. My spirit soared in response to the look in his eyes and once more, I heard my soul speak to the silent heart in my chest. ‘I have never loved anybody or anything as much as I love you,’ it said. I raced to him without a second thought and held him tight inside my embrace, his arms clutching onto me as much as mine took hold of him.

Sometimes, the world opens up around me and threatens to suck me within the vortex of being what and who I am. My spirit is no more settled today than it was before as I wonder how I can ensure I never find myself holding a blade with my lover’s ashes on the floor before me. I only know I would do anything to protect the one I cherish, even turn the blade on myself in one final act of defiance against the assassin, whispering my lover’s words… ‘forgive me’… before plunging the sharpened steel into my chest.

Right here and now, though, I vow to ensure such a thing never happens.

I have never had so much to lose.

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