The Story of the Vampire, L (Completed | Featured )

Part 4 - Blackbird

I found Nonus in the attic of our old town-home, bent over a cedar chest. "I know you're there," he said, so soft-spoken as to barely be heard. "I've not had a chance to be alone with you since you've been back. Are you hiding from me?" he asked.

"No. Have you been well-looked after?"

"You know that you don't have to worry about that," he said, voice naturally gentle and tender, pitched behind the nose. He speaks in such a wondering way. 

"I suppose you're right."

"We don't need to speak only because you've been away. It's all right to be quiet. I don't need to be spoken to." He straightened and turned, a dusky pink counterpane in his arms. 

"Iovita wouldn't speak to you?"

"He knows that I don't need it. It is good to sit together, and that's what I like. We had a good read together. He brought St Augustine to read and gave it to me. He had some Hemingway and Joyce for himself." 

"I don't like how you get when you've not been talking to anyone."

"So you've told me. I know," he said, dusting the counterpane gently with his hand. "I'm going to make up my bed for our visitor. It will be good to have it ready once he's back from exploring town. I'll sleep by Aulus. It will work."

"It would be better if you slept by Iovita. Or by me."

He gave me one of his slow smiles, genuine though the feline character of his face made it look plotting. "Leave me be, clucky chicken. I will sleep on the sofa in Aulus's room, not around him. No need to worry so."

"Have you been looking after yourself?"

"Our tenant came by just a few days ago to pay his tithe. He was, as ever, charitable. I wouldn't like to be vulgar and talk about blood very much, if you don't mind. He wanted Iovita to come round and have a look at the boiler, and I think that's where he is now."

"How was our tenant looking?" 

"Nearly as ever, unemployable, but healthy. He asked me to pray for him even though he thinks we are blood-worshiping Satanists. I reminded him that he is getting absolutely the deal of the century. He would be giving blood for cash in any case, though it leaves him a little weak and vulnerable to roughs. He's had his hair dyed red."

"He fancies you."

"However would I know anything if I didn't have you to point out the obvious?" he asked, smiling. "Have you had enough talking? May I go?"

"Come and let me lay my head against your neck."

"Oh," he said, "all right."

He came and pressed against me, the counterpane between us. When I rested my head against his neck, he laid his hand against my ear. His heart beat, regular and strong, and it recalled to me how frail  he had been as a child, prone to wanting to give up because he grew easily overtired. If he were too exhausted to go on, he would squat on the ground and if induced to stand, cry privately. In Herculaneum, I often walked home from the market with little Nonus upon my back, asleep on my shoulder. If he didn't eat well or overworked himself, his olive toned skin would grow pale, and disturbing dark circles would appear around his sad eyes. Sometimes, I would find him asleep on the cool kitchen floor, on the stones, and always very guilty upon being woken. "You're all right, precious boy," I whispered to him.

"Stop taking breath to tell me what we already know," he whispered, barely speaking himself. "There is simply no need."

I adjusted my head against his collarbone.