A Vampire for Christmas(73)
A moment later, Ramirez’s crew morphed and descended upon Damien’s crew members and the other patrons, attacking and feeding from them while the rest of the crowd in the bar scattered, running for their lives.
With his neck nearly bitten in half, the Damien of the past fell to the ground, dying. What was left of his lifeblood spilled out beside Angelina’s before his eyes glazed over and he joined Angelina in death.
From the present, his voice quavered with realization. “I didn’t know. Didn’t see what he was,” he explained to his lover as she stood beside him, her hand on his shoulder, trying to offer comfort. Although she seemed to know his inner heart better than he did. Or at least, she knew there was more that he was unwilling to admit.
Would it have mattered back then? Would you have refrained from challenging him had you known he was a demon?” she countered.
Damien searched his soul, but the answer that came was one he didn’t like. He had been so full of pain and pride back then that he had thought little of those around him. Any real or perceived attack to his status or ego would have been met with anger. With violence. If his father thought him the Devil’s spawn, he was prepared to prove it with his fists or swords or whatever instrument of violence was nearby.
It was Damien’s way of getting back at his father for his rejection, for the disdain he showed Damien each time they met.
But no longer. I am no longer that man, he thought.
Really? Do you think you are different?” Angelina challenged as if reading his mind. Lovingly, she caressed the slope of his shoulder, bent and whispered into his ear, “Be honest with yourself.”
I’ve changed,” he repeated, almost like a child responding to being chastised, but in his heart he understood why she was pressing her case. He was no longer that man, but he was still not a worthy individual. He was a demon who took from others, stealing their lifeblood. Hiding the truth of what he was. Making his livelihood illegally no matter that he fancied himself some kind of Robin Hood by sharing the lucre from his activities.
A hundred years had passed since that long-ago Cuban night, yet his temper still hurt others. More than once since becoming a demon, he had used his powers in fights prompted by men who had sought to challenge him. Men who had thought themselves superior or who had wanted to hurt those for whom Damien cared.
Like Angelina, who he had hurt once again, he thought, acknowledging the guilt that had been with him for nearly a year. Since last Christmas Eve when he had been responsible for her death, for the second time.
With the admission of that responsibility came yet more change in the room around him. The image of their bloodied bodies faded and was replaced by a different scene.
In this vision, the shades and curtains in the room were drawn against the daylight. Bright rays spilled in around the edges, providing enough illumination for him to see that they were in his bedroom, but at another point in time—a scant year ago in his long existence.
Another Christmas Eve that had also ended in tragedy.
The sights and sounds from a year ago overwhelmed his senses as a trill of laughter filled the air. The door to the room in the vision flung open.
Angelina tumbled in like a playful puppy, her face alight with joy. The Damien in the vision chased after her, a broad smile on his face as he worked on the buttons of his linen shirt.
Damien knew what would follow and didn’t want to see. He didn’t want a reminder of all that he had lost. Yet the scene continued, punishing him with its presence.
Do not show me this, Angelina,” he commanded, pushing to his feet and grabbing hold of her arms. He tempered his hold when she breathed a complaint at the force of his grasp.
Are you afraid, Damien? Do you fear what you might learn about the man that you are?”
Do you fear what you might feel? came her voice in his head, challenging him to face not only the past, but his own heart.
Maybe I haven’t changed, Damien thought, accepting her challenge. Allowing himself to leave her and return to that moment in the past to face his demons. As had happened before, he experienced a wild glide through the air until he slammed into the body of the Damien in the vision.
He stumbled back from Angelina as he came alert to everything in the room. His senses registered the smell of wood smoke from the fire burning brightly in the grate. The cheery warmth of it was in direct contrast to the slight chill coming from the edges of the curtains drawn against the bright winter sun.
We don’t have long,” Angelina said, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, but he brushed away her hands. If some God somewhere had decided that this was the only time he would have with her, he would not rush.