Chapter 253 - Final Arrangements part 10

I watched the wan winter sunlight move across the floor of my apartment. It crawled, centimeter by centimeter, like a revenant clawing its way from the grave. The sky was still overcast, though it had stopped spitting snow sometime around dawn. I sat in my recliner, the leather one next to my phonograph player, and watched as the light slowly strengthened, growing brighter and brighter until each solitary tuft of yarn cast its own distinctive shadow upon the next, then just as slowly the light began to dim, to turn orange, and then a sullen vermillion.

There was nothing else to do, nothing to occupy my time, or my mind, and yet my sense of elation persisted even then.

My last few hours in Liege!

I was patiently impatient. Each minute that crawled by was an eternity, but an exciting eternity, because they were the last few eternities of my existence.

Thirty thousand years… that's a lot of minutes.

The sun set on Liege's encircling hills without ever fully revealing itself that day. It was just a dim glowing disk gliding slowly behind the lowering clouds, and then it was gone, vanishing beyond the hills like an exotic dancer who has disappeared behind the curtains without showing anyone the good stuff.

Time to wake Lukas.

I crept into the room where I had, until recently, kept him as my prisoner. He did not stir. He lay like a corpse in his bed, on top of the covers, naked, as he like to sleep, his body very still and pale.

Vampires do not breath when they sleep. We do it when we are awake-- out of habit, or to fool a mortal into believing we are one of them, or to speak-- but we do not need oxygen. Our hearts beat only intermittently, if at all. When we sleep, there is no motion in us whatsoever, unless we are dreaming, but even dreams are rare for us. Our true nature is never so naked as when we are asleep.

Lukas's flesh was a chalky white, with a faint blue tinge that accented the hollows of his bones. His lips were slightly open, and his fangs protruded, curling into very fine points over his lower lip. The veins in the back of his hands and at his temples were ropy ridges, zigzagging to and fro. His hair (eyelashes, eyebrows, head, chest and pubis) looked wiry and artificial contrasted with his paleness, like the hair of a waxwork dummy.

An unsuspecting mortal, stumbling upon him right then, would have been utterly terrified.

"Lukas," I murmured.

His eyelids snapped open, and he sucked in a lungful of air. He lurched to a sitting position. "Is it time to go?"

"Yes."

"I'm hungry."

"I know. We'll find you something to eat along the way. We cannot afford to linger."

"Why? What's happened?"

I explained about Apollonius as he rose and put on some clothes.

"Another one of your vampire offspring, huh?" he smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks. "I suppose you love him, as you love all your vampire children. All of them but me."

"Do you want me to love you?"

"No." He laughed. "No!"

"Then let us be on our way. His flight will arrive in Bruge in four hours."

"So what's the hurry? We have plenty of time to get out of Liege."

"We need to be far enough away that he cannot track us. We do not give off pheromones as mortal men do, but the odors of our environment can cling to our flesh and clothing. It is very faint, but a vampire with a keen sense of smell can follow it, and Apollonius has very keen senses. He is a powerful immortal. Almost two thousand years old."

Lukas wriggled his feet into the heavy winter boots I had purchased for him for our journey. He tied the laces, then slapped his thighs and leapt to his feet.

"Let's go!"

I tossed his parka and backpack to him in the parlor. "Put on a coat tonight," I said. "The cold cannot harm you, but it will become tiresome after awhile."

I was so excited I was trembling. I felt giddy. I slipped on my parka, shoved my arms into the straps of my backpack, then raced around my apartment shutting off the lights. I threw open the balcony doors, closing my eyes at the gust of frigid wind that blew inside, relishing the cold blast of air. It was windy tonight. The curtains billowed, making flapping sounds, like giant leather wings.

"The balcony?" Lukas gulped.

"Just do as I do," I said, stepping outside. "You are nearly as powerful as I."

"You know I don't like heights."

"Your thoughts limit you. You still think like a mortal, but you are no longer a living man, Lukas. You are a god." I leapt up onto the balcony rail. "Close the balcony doors, please," I said over my shoulder, and then I flew.

The heavy clothing and backpack threw off my trajectory a little. I missed the balcony I'd aimed for, hit the wall below instead, but I recovered easily enough. I dropped to the balcony directly beneath, waited there for my protégé to follow.

Lukas looked to the street below, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly, tendrils of his black hair blowing straight up. I heard him murmur under his breath, "I'm a god. I'm a god. I'm a fucking GOD!" And then he hopped up onto the balcony railing as I had, and launched himself across the gulf.

He fell short.

I reached out and snagged his wrist, hauling him onto the balcony.

"Jesus!" he hissed, looking to the streets below.

"Stop looking down, you fool!" I snapped.

"I can't help myself."

"Yes, you can. Now follow me, and be quick about it."

After we had climbed to the roof, I turned and looked at my apartment building one last time. I had promised myself I wouldn't do it, afraid it might dampen my sense of excitement, but the elation that had suffused my spirit these past twenty-four hours did not diminish. 39 Ave du Luxembourg. I felt a nostalgic tingle at the sight of its brightly glowing windows, and all the memories that came rushing to my mind, but my enthusiasm for my final journey did not waver in the slightest.

I had no regrets, no reservations.

It was a great relief.

"Come, Lukas," I said, and then I hurried across the roof.