Bllod and Gold Page 46

  Into her arms, I easily enticed a proud and youthful victim, "who would pleasure the lady if that's what we wished" and from this one she easily consumed a fatal draught, his dagger falling into the bottom of the boat.

  The next victim, a swaggering drunkard who hailed us down with promises of a nearby banquet to which we'd all be admitted, stepped fatally into my grasp.

  I had barely the strength for it, and once again die blood ran riot within me, healing me with such violent magic that it bordered upon an increasing pain.

  The third who came into our arms was a vagabond, whom I enticed with a coin I did not possess. Bianca took him, her words slurred,

  disappointed that he had been so frail.

  And all of this, beneath the veil of the ink-black night, and far away from the lights of the houses such as our own.

  On and on we went. The Mind Gift in me grew stronger with each kill. My pain was eased with each kill. My flesh was more fully restored with each kill.

  But it would take a wilderness of kills to restore me, an inconceivable wilderness of victims to bring back to me the vigor which I had possessed before.

  I knew that beneath my clothes, I appeared as one made of ropes dipped in pitch, and I could not imagine the dreadful terror that my face had become.

  Meantime, Bianca waked from her daze and suffered the pains of her mortal death, and now longed to return to her rooms for fresh clothing so that she might return with me to the golden lined room, in garments fit for her to be my bride.

  She had had all too much of the blood of the victims and needed more of mine, but she did not know this, and I did not tell her as much.

  Only reluctantly did I concede to her request, taking her back to her palazzo, and waiting uneasily in the gondola until she came,

  marvelously dressed, to join me, her skin like her purest white pearls.

  Forsaking forever her many rooms, she brought with her many bundles, indeed all the clothes she wished to take with her, and all her jewels, and many candles, that we might be together in our hiding place without the roar of the torch.

  At last we were in the golden chamber by ourselves, and she was brimming with happiness as she gazed at me, her secretive and silent masked bridegroom.

  And only a single candle gave its slender light for us both.

  She had spread out a cloak of green velvet that we might sit on it, and so we did.

  My legs were crossed, and she leant back on her ankles. My pain was quiet in me yet terrible. Quiet in that it did not lurch with each breath I took but remained steady and allowed me to breathe as I would.

  Out of her many bundles she produced for me a polished mirror with a bone handle.

  "Here, take the mask off, if you wish," she said, her oval eyes very brave and hard. "You will not frighten me!"

  I looked at her for a long moment, cherishing her beauty, studying all the subtle changes which the Blood had worked in her—how it had made her so extravagantly and richly the replica of her former self.

  "You find me pleasing, do you not?" she asked.

  "Always," I said. "There was a time when I wanted so to give you the Blood that I couldn't look at you. There was a time when I would not go to your rooms for fear that I should lure you to the Blood with all my charms, such as they ever were."

  She was amazed. "I never dreamt it," she said.

  I looked into the mirror. I saw the mask. I thought of the name of the Order: Talamasca. I thought of Raymond Gallant.

  "You can read nothing of my mind now, can you?" I asked her.

  "No," she said, "nothing." She was most puzzled.

  "It's the way," I said. "Because I made you. You can read the minds of others, yes.. . ."

  ". . . yes," she answered. "The minds of our victims, yes, and when the blood flows, I see things. . • •"

  "... yes. And always you will see things, but never with that tool fall

  for the allure of the innocent, or the blood you drink will suddenly appear on your hands."

  "I understand it," she answered too quickly. "So Amadeo told me all that you'd taught him. Only the Evil Doer. Never the innocent, I know."

  Again, I felt a terrible anger, that these two, these blessed children, had shut me out. I wondered when and how Amadeo had told her these secrets.

  But I knew that I should put such jealousy aside.

  The awful, awful sadness was that Amadeo was gone from me. Gone. And I could not possibly bring him back. Amadeo was in the hands of those who meant to do unspeakable things. I could not think of it. I could not. I would go mad.

  "Look into the mirror," she said again.

  I shook my head.

  I removed my left glove and stared at my bony fingers. She gave an awful little cry and then she was ashamed.

  "Would you still see my face?" I asked.

  "No, not for both our sakes," she said. "Not till you've hunted more and I have traveled with you more and am stronger, the better to be your pupil as I promised, as I will be."

  She nodded as she spoke, her voice quite determined.

  "Lovely Bianca," I said softly, "meant for such harsh and strong things."

  "Yes, and I shall do them. I will always be with you. You will come in time to love me as you loved him."

  I didn't answer. The agony of losing him was monstrous. How could I deny it with a single syllable?

  "And what is happening to him?" I asked, "or have they merely destroyed him in some hideous fashion, for you know of course that we can die by the light of the sun, or by the heat of a terrible fire."

  "No, not die, only suffer," she said quickly, looking at me

  questioningly. "Are you not the living proof?"

  "No, die," I said. "With me it's what I told you, that I have lived for over a thousand years. But with Amadeo? It could be death very easily. Pray that they do not design cruelties but only horrors, that whatever they do, they do it quickly or not at all."

  She was filled with fear, and her eyes were watching rne as if there were an actual expression on the leather face mask that I wore.

  "Come now, you must learn to open this coffin," I said to her. "And before that, I must give you more of my blood. I've taken so many

  victims, I have more now to give and you must have it or you won't be strong as Amadeo, not at all."

  "But . . . I've changed rny clothes," she said. "I don't want to get them bloody."

  I laughed. I laughed and laughed. The whole golden chamber echoed with my laughter.

  She stared at me blankly.

  "Bianca," I said gently. "I promise you, I won't spill a drop."

  26

  wHEN I AWOKE, lay quiet for an hour, weak and keenly in pain. So bad was the pain, in fact, that sleep seem preferable

  to wakefulness, and I dreamt of tilings long ago, times when Pandora and I had been together and when it had not seemed possible that we would ever part.

  What finally jarred me from my uneasy slumber was the sound of Bianca screaming.

  Over and over in terror she screamed.

  I rose, somewhat stronger than the night before, and then once I was certain that I had my gloves and mask in place, I crouched beside her coffin and called out to her.

  At first she couldn't hear me, so loud were her frantic screams. But at last, she grew quiet in her desperation.

  "You have the strength to open the coffin," I said. "I revealed this to you last night. Put your hands against the lid and move it."

  "Let me out of it, Marius," she pleaded, sobbing.

  "No, you must do it for yourself."

  Softer sobs came from her, but she followed my instructions. There came a grinding noise from the marble and the lid moved to one side, and then she rose, pushing the lid out of her way, and she freed herself from the box altogether.

  "Come here to me," I said.

  She obeyed me, shivering with sobs, and with my gloved hands I stroked her mussed hair.

  "You knew you had the strength," I said- "I s
howed you that even with your mind you could move it."

  "Please light the candle," she begged. "I need the light."

  I did as she asked rne to do. " You must try to quiet your soul," I said. I took a long deep breath. "You're strong now, and after we hunt tonight you'll be even stronger. And as I grow ever more strong, I will give you more of my blood."

  "Forgive me for my fear," she whispered.

  I had little strength myself to comfort her, but I knew that she needed what little strength I had. It was hitting me again like so many violent blows that my world was dashed, that my house was ruined, that Amadep was stolen from me.

  And then in a half swoon I saw Pandora of long ago, smiling at me, not recriminating me or tormenting me, but only speaking with me, as though we were in the garden together, at the stone table, and talking as we used to do of so many things.

  But that was gone. All was gone. Amadeo was gone. My paintings were gone.

  And there came again the desperation, the bitterness, the humiliation. I had not thought that such things could be done to me. I had not thought that I could be so miserable. I had believed myself so

  powerful, so very clever, so very beyond this abject grief.

  "Come now, Bianca," I said. "We must go out, we must seek the blood. Come." I consoled her as I consoled myself. "Here, where is your mirror? Where is your comb? Let me comb your pretty hair for you. Look at yourself in the mirror. Did Botticelli ever paint a woman more beautiful?"

  She wiped at her red tears.

  "Are you happy again?" I asked. "Reach into the depths of your soul. Tell yourself that you are immortal. Tell yourself that death has no power over you. A glorious thing has befallen you here in the

  darkness, Bianca. You have become forever young, forever beautiful."

  I wanted so to kiss her, but I couldn't do this, and so I labored to make my words so many kisses.

  She nodded, and as she looked at me a lovely smile broke over her face, and for one moment she fell into a dreaminess which brought back all my memories of Botticelli's genius, and even of the man himself so safely away from all these horrors, living out his life in Florence beyond what I might ever do.

  I took the comb from her bundle. I ran it through her hair. I watched her stare at the mask that was my face.

  "What is it?" I asked of her gently.

  "I want to see how badly—"

  "No you don't," I said.

  She began to cry again. "But how will you ever be healed? How many nights will it take?"

  All her happiness of last night was shattered.

  "Come," I said. "We go to hunt. Now put on your cape, and follow me up the steps. We do as we've done before. And don't for a moment doubt your strength, and do always as I tell you."

  She would not do as I asked her. She hovered near the coffin, her elbow on the lid, her face stricken.

  At last I settled near to her, and I began to speak words I never thought I would hear myself utter

  "You must be the strong one, Bianca," I said, "you must lead us. I haven't the strength for two just now and that is what you are demanding of me. I am ruined inside. I am ruined. No, wait, don't interrupt what I mean to say. And don't shed tears. Listen to me. You must give to me your small reserve of strength for I require it. I have powers quite beyond your imagining. But those powers I cannot reach just now. And until I can reach them, you must lead us forward. Lead us with your thirst and lead us with your wonder, for surely in this state you do see things as never before and you are filled with that wonder."

  She nodded her head. Her eyes grew colder and more beautifully calm.

  "Don't you see?" I asked. "If you can only come with me through these few nights, you do indeed have immortality?"

  She closed her eyes and moaned. "Oh, I love the very sound of your voice," she said, "but I am afraid. In the coffin in the dark when I awoke, it all seemed a poisoned dream, and I fear what they may do to us if they discover what we are, if we fall into their hands, and if... if..."

  ''Yes, if?"

  "If you cannot protect me."

  "Ah, yes, if I cannot protect you."

  I fell into a silence, sitting there.

  Again, it did not seem possible that this had happened to me. My soul was burnt. My spirit was burnt. My will was scarred and my happiness ruined.

  I remembered the very first ball, the ball which Bianca had given at our house, and I remembered the dancing and the tables with their

  golden platters of fruit and spiced meats, the smell of the wine, and the sound of the music, and the many rooms so filled with contented souls, and the paintings looming over all, and it did not seem possible that anyone could bring me down from that when I was so firmly placed in the realm of unsuspecting mortals.

  Oh, Santino, I thought, how I do hate you. How I do despise you.

  I pictured him again as he had come to me in Rome. I pictured him in his black robes smelling of the earth, his black hair rather vainly clean and long, and his face so very expressive with its large dark eyes, and I hated him.

  Would I ever, I thought, have the chance to destroy him? Oh, surely there would come a time when he was not surrounded by so many numbers, when I might have him firmly in my hands and with the Fire Gift make him pay for what he'd done to me.

  And Amadeo, where was my Amadeo, and where were my boys who had been so brutally yet carefully taken? I saw again rny poor Vincenzo murdered on the floor.

  "Marius, my Marius," Bianca said suddenly. "Please, don't sit in such quiet with me." She reached out, her hand pale and fluttering, not daring to touch me. "I am sorry for being so weak. Believe me, I am. What is it that makes you so silent?"

  "Nothing, my darling, only the thoughts of my enemy, the one who brought those brandishing the fire, those who destroyed me."

  "But you're not destroyed," she said, "and I will somehow get the strength."

  "No, stay here for now," I said. "You have done enough. And your poor gondolier, he gave his life for me last night. You stay here now until I return."

  She shuddered and reached out as if to take hold of me.

  I forced her to remain at a distance.

  "You cannot embrace what I am just yet. But I will go out and I will hunt until I am strong enough to take you from this place and to one that is safe and one where I will be healed completely."

  I closed my eyes, though of course she could not see it on account of the mask, and I thought of Those Who Must Be Kept.

  My Queen, I pray to you, and I arn coming arid when I do you will give me the Blood, I thought, but could you not have given me one small vision of warning?

  Oh, I had not even thought of this before and now it exploded in my mind. Yes, from her distant throne she could have done it, she could have warned me, could she not?

  But how could I ask such a thing from one who for a thousand years had not moved or spoken? Would I never learn?

  But what of Bianca who was trembling and begging me to pay attention to her now? I waked from my sleep.

  "No, we'll do it as you wanted, I'll go with you," she said piteously. "I'm sorry I was weak. I promised you I would be as strong as Amadeo. I want to be. I'm ready now to go with you."

  "No, you aren't," I responded. "You're only more afraid of being left here alone than you are of going. You're afraid that if you stay behind I'll never come back to you."

  She nodded her head as if I had forced her to admit it when I had not.

  "I'm thirsting," she said softly. She said it with an elegance. And then in wonder. "I'm thirsting for blood. I must go with you."

  "Very well then," I answered. "My lovely sweet companion. Strength will come to you. Strength will take up its abode in your heart. Don't fear. I have so much to teach, and as these nights pass, when you and I are comforted, I'll tell you of the others I've known, of their strength and of their beauty."

  She nodded again, her eyes widening.

  "Do you love me the most," she asked, "that is all I wan
t to know for now and you may lie to me." She smiled, even as the tears stained her cheeks.

  "Of course I do,'' I said. "I love you more than anyone. You're here, are you not? And finding rne crushed, you gave your strength to save me."

  It was a cold answer, lacking in flattery or kindness, yet it seemed quite enough for her, and it struck me how very different she was from those I had loved before, from Pandora in her wisdom, or Amadeo in his cunning. She seemed endowed with sweetness and intellect in equal measure.