Free The Vampire's Angel by Damian Serbu Page A

a casual touch.
    Thomas spent most of dinner gazing at Xavier. While everyone engaged in inane conversation, Thomas noticed the grace with which Xavier kept his brother and sister from bickering, how he silently comforted Jérémie, and how he avoided Marcel without anyone realizing it. Xavier’s laughter sent chills through Thomas. He was so beautiful. A couple of times Xavier discovered his stare and looked away. Thomas smiled to himself. Such a sheepish love, he thought.
    And no one acknowledged the family problems. Everyone pretended to gaily talk. It was a bizarre display, but it afforded Thomas the opportunity to learn about the family what he needed to know to protect Xavier. Clearly, Catherine lived in her own world and would only hurt Xavier if something happened to her. Thomas saw that they loved each other and understood one another on a profound level. Michel, however, stood outside this circle, trying to control and act like the man society wanted but impotent around their self-assurance. Jérémie was a statue, a lost puppy longing for a home now that Catherine had crushed his dreams, though she seemed oblivious to it.
    Marcel, however, was another matter. The others Thomas could leave alone, but Marcel surreptitiously glared at Xavier, demonstrating his distrust. Thomas observed from afar but would not sit idly if that fiend went after his angel. He sensed sinister forces around that man. And if Thomas had read correctly from Marcel’s snarling at him, Marcel knew about his vampirism, too.
    Thus ended dinner, with no resolution, but rather, polite conversation and good food. Thomas had enjoyed the meal, though he seldom ate food any more. He was almost disappointed when dinner ended and everyone retired to the parlor.
Thomas: The Vampire and the Warlock

     
     
    27 May 1789 After dinner
     
    UNLIKE A TYPICAL household where women and men separated after dinner, Catherine’s hold on the Saint-Laurents kept the sexes together. How odd, Thomas finally noticed, that no other women had joined them this evening. And so they followed her to the parlor for their après dinner conversation and drinks.
    Michel served the drinks and Xavier took his glass and gulped half of it down in one motion. Thomas almost teased him when he saw the abbé’s eyes widen. Thomas glanced to see what had alarmed Xavier. Standing behind Catherine, Michel, and Jérémie, Marcel put something into Catherine’s wine, which fizzled for a moment, added a blue tint, and then turned the liquid to a dull gray. No one but the two of them had seen this happen.
    “Jérémie, you seem sad. What’s wrong?” Catherine asked, taking the drink from Marcel.
    “Nothing. I just have a lot on my mind.”
    “Well, forget about it. You’ve never fretted over things before.”
    “Catherine, maybe we should move to the porch. It’s nice outside,”
    Xavier suggested. “Good idea,” she agreed. “Come, everyone. Thomas, you need another drink.” He inclined his head respectfully. “I’ll get it myself. You may escort your entourage and I’ll join you in a moment.” Jérémie, Michel, and Xavier followed her, but only Xavier paused to smile at Thomas’s reference. Marcel, however, stayed behind as well.
    “I need more wine, too,” he said, and he poured himself a robust red wine, staring darkly at Thomas, who for his part, was at a loss. He had killed more powerful and sophisticated men than Marcel, and potion or not, he could break Marcel’s back in one motion. Killing this wretch with no value would certainly not violate the ethic. Nevertheless, Thomas chose his battles wisely.
    What bothered him was the intimacy he had experienced with the entire family. This Marcel threatened to disrupt more of the delicate ethic that Anthony had articulated upon his transformation. So many rules, Thomas lamented. He could hear the litany of laws that Anthony articulated the very first night: we must never interfere with the course of human history