The Celestine Room
by Jared Rackler
Thank you to Eden Winters and PD Singer, for showing
me how to tell a story.
The city of Melinoe celebrated the darkest night of the
year with masques. Legend held that the masks they wore
were originally used to confuse and confound the hungry
spirits that crossed the whisper-thin veil between this world
and the next. In more recent times, however, the holiday
had become an excuse for decadence and excess in all its
forms.
The grandest and most lavish of the solstice masques
was held by the king of Serenae himself. As the celebrants
gathered at the palace in the Celestine Ballroom, Nikos
marveled at the grandeur of the black marble walls,
polished until they held a mirror-like shine. Chandeliers
of volcanic glass, harvested from the very base of the
Dragon, sent light twinkling into the ebony-paneled ceiling
set with veins of silver that caught the light like so many
stars. Daises had been erected at opposite ends of the hall,
one for the small orchestra that currently sat tuning their
instruments, and the other for the royal family that would
soon arrive. Long, ebony tables covered with white runners
were set with sumptuous foods. Nikos s senses were
assaulted by the scents of spiced pork and roasted duck,
cardamom cakes and honeyed tarts.
He sipped chilled wine from the crystal cup in his hand,
scanning the room and trying to guess which familiar
face lay behind the masks and the makeups. Creatures of
renown were always the most popular among the younger
attendees. Every season, no matter how cold the air outside,
a throng of dryads braved the winter night to frolic amongst
gargoyles, phoenixes, satyrs, naiads, and a thousand
other fantastical creatures. Among the menagerie of the
horned and feathered were the ancient kings and queens,
popular among the courtiers more advanced in their years.
Historical accuracy, as always, was given no more than lip
service -- or done away with entirely.
Nikos was wearing what had quickly become his
customary white tunic, sewn with silver embroidery
depicting a fanciful design of Sephone, goddess of death
and patron of the necromantic arts to which he subscribed.
He trailed one finger absently across a narcissus flower, the
flower of the goddess, rendered in black seed pearls, and
let the din of the crowd wash over him as it thickened. The
room grew warmer with each new body until the fires that
burned in the grand room s hearths became unnecessary
to drive back the cold. Sweat prickled underneath the
silver domino he wore, and at the nape of his neck beneath
black hair pulled back in a severe tail. He contemplated
escaping to the terrace, leaving behind the crowd and their
perfumes as they mixed together in a cloying mist of bitter
oranges, musk, and roses. He took another glass of wine
from one of the servants circling the room in their crimson
livery, but before he could taste it, trumpets sounded. The
conversation that had filled the hall like broken birdsong
died as Lykanos Arcadios, High King of Serenae, entered
through the Twilight Door, which was reserved for the
use of the royal family and their high-ranking guests. The
crowd knelt almost as one, with only the sound of rustling
fabric to accompany them.
Lykanos was dressed simply compared to the others in
the hall, with only the skin of a leopard over a plain brown
tunic and a circlet of grape leaves wrought in gold to mark
him as the god of fertility and revelry. It was restrained for
a solstice celebration, but Nikos was certain that simple
costume cost more than an academic like him would earn in
a year.
Behind the king, the royal family followed. Each of
them was dressed as a god or goddess of Serenae. Queen
Clytemnestra presented a regal beauty as the Queen of
Heaven, while her son, Alexion, cut a striking figure as
Nymedos, the god of love, with the Princess Yvaine at his
side dressed as Sykhe. The royal family followed the king
to their dais and ascended to their places. The crowd waited
for Lykanos s sign to resume their festivities, but none
came. Instead, the king began to speak.
 People of Serenae, another year has almost slipped by
us. The winter thickens and the days of the dead approach.
We have much to be grateful for. A great victory has been
won in the name of Serenae and we gather together to
celebrate that victory on this most sacred night. The king s
eyes flicked to the door at the back of the hall.
Nikos felt his death sense tingle along his spine, which
was nonsense. Nothing haunted the palace. Nothing could
ever break past the wards maintained for a thousand years.
The urge to look away from the king and find the source
of the disturbance rose, but Lykanos began again,  It is on
this night that I welcome to the halls of this great house the
Lady Thanata, mistress of the nosferatu, and her kindred
that so recently aided the crown in its victory against the
barbarians from the north.
Silence rang out in place of shocked gasps, held at bay as
they were by the decorum of the aristocrat. No one uttered
even the slightest whisper as the elder nosferatu and her
coterie entered through the Twilight Door itself. Nikos,
having had no such lessons in manners or tact, allowed his
astounded gaze to shift into a glare when he caught sight of
the reigning female and her assembled kind. A dozen pairs
of golden eyes gleamed out of faces stretched with skin
the color of aged ivory. They scanned the crowd, searching
and probing. Predators eyes, seeking out their prey. Nikos
found his hand gripping the handle of the silver blade at
his hip in unconscious preparation for trouble. Most of the
thaumaturges in the College Arcanum would give their
eyeteeth for the chance to be this close to the nosferatu,
and he had no doubt the other members of the college in
attendance were fighting their own battle between shock
and wonder. Nikos was no better than they were, but the
thought of this many of the undead in one place unsettled
him in a way very few things did any more.
After the initial shock at the presence of the daemons had
faded, the king continued,  The Lady Thanata and I have
struck a bargain. Beneath this city, there exist catacombs
as vast as anywhere in the kingdom. Melinoe was built
upon the bones of a dozen cities before it and I have given
my consent for the nosferatu to make their homes in those
abandoned parts of our city, with the Lady s word of honor
that her kindred will live in peace alongside our people.
Whispers spread through the room, as this announcement
challenged even the aristocrats self-control. Nikos s
eyes widened and moved from the king to the assembled
vampires, searching for a familiar face among the crowd.
A truce. The memory of that very idea, whispered in the
afterglow of passion spent, sent Nikos s heart racing.
 He d never, Nikos whispered.
He could only imagine what living alongside the people
of this city in  peace meant to the nosferatu. Would they
be discreet in their killing? Only taking one or two of the
thousands of poor that passed through the gates of Melinoe
every year? Or was it to be blood whores, men and women
paid for their life s blood as the kiangshi to the east were
wont to do? Nikos shook his head. He supposed a truce was
better than the open violence that plagued the countries to
the far north with their hordes of ravenous dead -- hordes
his family had escaped, only to die of influenza in the slums
of a foreign city.
 The White Court will not let this stand, he heard one
woman whisper while her companion nodded in agreement.
Part of Nikos wanted to believe them, but he knew the
ruling houses of Melinoe that made up the council of the
White Court cared little for what happened outside of the
palace halls, as long as it didn t endanger their chances of
getting one of their ilk on the throne.
 They are our allies, Lykanos intoned over the murmurs
of dissent that had risen in the hall,  our friends. The days
of hunting and killing each other for food and for safety are
behind us. Welcome the nosferatu as I have.
And with that, the royal family sat upon their traditional
thrones on the dais, the nosferatu mistress and what must
have been her mate at their side. At the finality in the king s
tone, the crowd rose from bended knee while the musicians
began playing a joyful tune meant to ease the tension. The
voices of the assembled men and women rose in a din
of broken conversation and nervous laughter while wine
enough flowed until the crowd began to forget just how
dangerous the nosferatu were, if only for tonight.
Nikos watched the gathered dancers, twirling and
dipping in a riot of colors ranging from the brightest
yellows to the deepest purples. More than once he denied
the invitation of a dance, though it pained him to do so.
Few things in this world gave him joy as dancing did, but
the need to keep his back to the wall and his eyes on the
vampires was too great. For one such as him, they were
easy enough to spot, even among the minor glamours and
illusions. The dead called to him just as he called to the
dead, and he could sense each of the nosferatu as pinpricks
of cold in his mind. He reached under the mask and rubbed
the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to banish the coldness.
He would have a headache come the morning without
even a good time to show for it if he stayed any longer.
He would say his goodbyes quickly, making apologies for
leaving so early, and then quietly slip from the press of the
living and the dead.
As he turned to go, he caught the bitter scent of anise, of
leaves decaying in the rich earth. A voice slithered from the
shadows.  Leaving so soon?
Nikos turned and almost collided with the shadowed
figure behind him. He watched as the darkness withdrew
to reveal the form of a male nosferatu. His heart thrummed
inside his chest.
 Rune. It was a whisper, easily swallowed by the noise
of the crowd, but he knew the nosferatu heard it.
Rune smiled, baring fangs that never belonged there, a
mockery of a smile, an animal s grin in a face that retained
enough humanity to be recognizable as once having been
something other than the daemon before Nikos now.
 Hello, little witch, Rune said, taking Nikos s hand
in his, claws gently touching Nikos s gloved flesh as he
pressed a kiss into it. The vampire straightened to his full
height, which was considerably more than anyone, vampire
or human, in attendance. The light from a nearby fire gave
his auburn curls the sheen of copper.  I was hoping I would
find you here.
The scars on Nikos s shoulder tingled from the touch of
undead flesh, even through the leather of the gloves Nikos
wore to protect the sensibilities of others. Peeking from
the collar of Rune s black and white harlequin tunic, Nikos
could see the burns that the nosferatu carried from their
first meeting. Silver was no friend to any of the countless
classifications of daemons, and no necromancer would be
caught without it. Not and survive.
 And why were you hoping for that? Nikos said when
he found his voice again. He fought the urge to draw his
blade. The vampire had made no threatening moves and he
felt certain that a  sense of danger would be of little use
against any judge in the Dikastos, given the change in royal
attitudes about the undead.
That feral grin again, and Nikos watched Rune s
crystalline eyes fill with an all too familiar fire.  Am I to
infer that once you saw the guests of honor that you weren t
hoping I was among my brothers and sisters? Auburn
brows drooped in a play of being hurt.
Nikos shored up his will and squared his shoulders.  You
haven t crossed my mind, Rune. Not in a very long time.
Rune moved in an eye blink, between the space of
seconds, and Nikos found himself being pushed lightly,
deeper into the shadows that surrounded the edges of the
ballroom.
 You lie, Rune whispered against Nikos s ear. He
wrapped a long arm around Nikos waist, pressing them
closer still. They moved gently with the sway of the music.
A soft minuet timed the steps, though Nikos could barely
hear it above the rush of blood in his ears.  Your heart is
practically racing, little witch. Did you know that?
 You ve always had that effect on me, Nikos answered.
 From fear, or from something else, I wonder? Rune
said as he maneuvered Nikos into a spin that brought his
white tunic close to an open brazier but left it unscorched.
The sharp smell of cinnamon filled Nikos s senses,
mingling with the scent of fallen leaves that marked the
nosferatu for what they were. Nikos smiled in spite of
himself as the dizzyingly familiar aroma of spice and
decaying earth swirled around him, but he did not speak.
 Cat got your tongue, witchling?
Rune was baiting him to answer, to give voice to the
thoughts they had both shared ever since that first night
after the nosferatu had wiped the blood from his lips and
Nikos had cleaned the blood from his sword. There was
something there, something Nikos had surrendered to only
a handful of times. And whether it was the wine or the
swirling memories of stolen moments amidst dangerous
odds, Nikos opened his mouth and answered.
 Perhaps it s both, he whispered, pressing his forehead
against the vampire s shoulder.
Rune sighed, a shaky outlet of breath, though Nikos
suspected it was an affectation. The nosferatu were
believed to have no use for breath. Nikos never let his gaze
travel from the pattern of the stitching on the vampire s
costume, but he could see in his mind s eye Rune s self-
satisfied smirk. The smile disappeared from Nikos face
and the weight of the past pressed in on him. Old grief rose
to the fore, spurred on by the mixture of fear and arousal.
Hadrian was here, somewhere. Hadn t he seen the young
nobleman dressed in the guise of a fox or some other small
hunter? He should find Hadrian and somewhere warm...
The vampire grabbed Nikos s chin and pulled it up until
their eyes met.  Sadness in your eyes, love, he said with
no hint of the expected irony.  Why so sad, mageling?
 I shouldn t be here...
He didn t say  with you . There was no need. They
both knew that what they were about was wrong. And had
only led to heartache and suffering the times before, when
Rune had given in to his hunger and Nikos to his desire for
someone as much a part of the grave as he was. Before the
night was through, one of them would bleed for what they
did. Nikos knew that it would likely be his flesh split and
his blood spilt in the service of their desires.
 I would kiss the sadness from your eyes, Rune said,
brushing a clawed thumb across the tender skin of Nikos s
lips. A sharp pain made him hiss, but Rune held his face
firmly in his undead grasp. A single drop of blood welled
to the surface, crimson and shining. The vampire leaned
in and enveloped Nikos s mouth with his. A moan escaped
Nikos s throat before he could stop himself, but Rune
swallowed the sound and lapped at the blood with a tongue
as rough as Nikos remembered.
Modesty fought with the urge for more, but Nikos
reasoned that none of the eyes in the hall were on them.
Shadows wound their way around the pair of them in the
way only a nosferatu could command, and the subtle play
of Rune s inherent glamour flickered faintly in the air
around them like heat shimmer.
Heat and warmth. The words struck Nikos s mind,
breaking the spell of the wine and sorrow.
 You re warm, Nikos said, ending the kiss and pulling
back to look Rune in his killer s eyes.  Who died for your
warmth tonight?
Rune let go of Nikos s face and snatched up his wrist,
moving them back in time with the music. He smiled at the
question, a parent s smile at a mistrustful child.
 Such a fatalist, you are, little witch, he intoned.  Is
there no room in your view of the world for willing donors
that beg for the pleasure of our touch or the gold in our
pockets? We ve been at this much longer than the humans
have been aware of it.
 I m certain you have, was all Nikos could say. The
thoughts of the men and women of the District lounging
in doorways and leaning out windows coalesced behind
his eyes. So many of them were born of the same
circumstances as Nikos. So easy, so very easy to have
joined them, he thought, to have become a whore. Only one
thing separated him from them, kept him from the brothels
and the blood dens. Nikos conjured the cold of the grave
and let it slip from his chest into his limbs, chilling him
against the heady scent of this particular vampire so close.
 Colder, Rune whispered, leaning in to sniff Nikos s
hair.  You chase away the warmth of your passion to chase
me away?
The unspoken answer to the question hung heavy
between them as they danced in the shadows. How they had
avoided the others in the room, Nikos could only assume
was Rune s preternatural grace.
Nikos stared past the vampire that held him and through
the veil of the shadows that hid them, out into the crowd of
the living. He watched the dancers move with the flow of
the music as he and Rune did. He cursed under his breath
and broke the stride of their dance.
 I assume you have someplace in mind? he asked Rune,
impertinent in the face of his failed resolve.
Rune smiled with only the barest hint of fang.  Who
would I be if I didn t? A human s delicate sensibilities must
be taken into account. A mocking laugh rang out from
his chest. It was the cry of the victor and Nikos cursed the
sound and himself.
The hand holding Nikos s wrist moved, twining Rune s
clawed fingers with Nikos blunt mortal ones. Rune led the
way out of the Celestine Ballroom and out into the grand
halls of the Ivory Palace.
They walked quickly, as quickly as his mortal legs
could carry Nikos. They traveled halls that began to blend
together until he wasn t certain where they were going,
until they came face to face with the golden, filigreed door
of the Gallery. Rune stopped and Nikos smirked at the
vampire s sense of humor. The Gallery was a place for
trysts that should never happen, nor be countenanced, a
wing of rooms for the mistresses of the royal family.
Pride flared inside Nikos and all thoughts of Hadrian or
other willing mortal lovers fled his mind. He wasn t some
mewling whore to be led about by a gracious benefactor.
He was a grown man choosing to make a very bad decision
that he might regret when the sun rose and his lover
slithered back into the earth. Nikos gripped the handle of
the golden door and pushed inward. He turned to give the
nosferatu a beckoning finger.
 Are you coming? he teased and Rune gave him a hard
look. Nikos actually laughed, letting the sound fill the
hall. He invited the nosferatu through the wards that had
protected the potential heirs of the king for generations. He
led Rune into an unoccupied room and onto the unused bed.
Darkness lessened as Nikos summoned ghostlight into
the empty lamp, washing the room in the silver glow of the
dead like a tiny moon captured for their own.
Rune threw off the harlequin tunic with the grace
inherent in his daemon nature. In the grey glow of the
lamp, shadows played in the hollows of his chest and along
the ridges of the scars over his left breast where Nikos
had endeavored to carve out his heart. Nikos s tunic came
next, the jet beads and gleaming thread catching the light,
throwing back brilliant shards.
 Corpse, Nikos whispered, tracing fingers along the
mass of scars on the vampire s chest.
Claws were feather light against his skin as they traced
the edges of Nikos s collar bones.  Corpse lover, Rune
returned.
The vampire reached up and unfastened the silver clip
that held Nikos s ebony hair in its neat queue. A small hiss
and the scent of burning flesh spiced the air. Nikos tossed
his hair, letting the length slide over his pale flesh. He
slipped the gloves from his hands and took the clip from
Rune, kissing the burned fingers before tossing the silver
thing into the mass of white and black fabric that was their
clothes. Rune picked up Nikos and laid him on the velvet-
covered bed, pulling off one boot and then the other before
removing his own. His hand lingered on the small blade
strapped to Nikos s ankle.
 Give it here, Nikos said, voice husky with desire.
The others at the College and the priests of the temples be
damned. Rune pulled the knife from its sheath and Nikos
took it, enjoying the familiar weight of the blade before
pressing the finely sharpened edge into his chest.
Red welled bright as any ruby, and Rune moaned at the
sight of it. He leaned in, silver shimmering in his golden
gaze as he lapped at the skin. Nikos hissed for the pleasure
of it and the pain while the vampire slid his roughened
tongue between the edges of the wound, widening it and
bringing forth more of what he sought. Rune worked his
way up the length of Nikos s neck, fangs only grazing
the artery of blood that pumped beneath the skin until he
attacked Nikos s mouth in a bruising kiss. Nikos let his
tongue slip between undead lips and played on the edges of
the delicate fangs until skin split and blood rose, coppery
sweet as it played over their tongues. Beneath that, Nikos
tasted the decay of autumn and the musk of serpents. All
the while, the natural poison of the nosferatu worked its
way into his system, soothing the prey into submission
even as it set his nerves on fire.
Fingers pressed into vampiric flesh and claws scraped
over living skin while Rune removed their trousers. Nikos
would have earned a few new scars before the night ended
if he didn t treat the wounds, but at the moment he didn t
care. Rune moved down Nikos s body, leaving a trail of fire
where the poisoned tongue met skin. The heat spread across
Nikos s belly while the vampire worried at his hipbone,
tracing the line of it down into his groin. Nikos felt fangs
graze the artery in his thigh. Knees buckled and toes curled
with the promise of what was to come. Yet the monster that
was so close to what he desired above all else remained
calm, taking his time while he teased Nikos.
Claws were drawn up Nikos s calves in delicate lines,
raising only the lightest of welts in their wake. Rune smiled
up at Nikos, face hovering only inches from the rigid flesh
of his sex. It strained, proud and wanting, from a nest of
black curls and Nikos felt a shudder run through him as the
soft grey of the ghostlight shone in the vampire s golden
eyes.
With a flick of a roughened tongue, Rune licked the
tip of him and Nikos drew in his breath with a sharp hiss.
This was Rune s favorite game to play with him. An oral
creature by his very nature, Nikos knew the vampire
enjoyed all too well the sights and sounds of a mortal lover
trembling with pleasure and fear while he licked and nipped
at the tender skin.
Rune stopped and Nikos cried in frustration.  So many
of your kind are afraid of the fangs, afraid of letting us
near.
Not Nikos. He arched his spine, urging Rune onward.
A blue gaze broke from the yellow for only a moment as
Rune dove deep onto Nikos, taking everything there was to
take until his lips met the curls at the base, and Nikos threw
his head back into the satin pillows.
Fingers untwisted from velvet and found purchase on the
vampire s shoulders, pulling him up the length of Nikos s
body until their faces met once more. Nikos pulled Rune
into a kiss until he felt the vampire s animalistic teeth
pressing from behind daemon lips.
 Now, he breathed against Rune s mouth. A sound
almost like a whine more suited for a dog than anything
human escaped the vampire s throat. He reached into the
chest beside the bed, breaking eye contact for only the
briefest of moments, and withdrew a small ruby vial full of
what no courtesan, male or female, could be without.
The scent of almonds permeated the room as Rune
slid oil-slick claws over the most intimate part of Nikos s
anatomy even as their mouths met once more for a kiss.
Poison sweet, the taste of him, thought Nikos, but now was
the time for more. Rune drew back from the meeting of lips
and trailed his tongue over Nikos s chin and onto his throat.
A heartbeat passed before Nikos felt the sharp press of
fangs against his neck. He felt them slip into his skin and
the blood of his life flow out of him as Rune drew on the
wound.
Nikos cried out in pleasure at the feeling of the fangs
and the claws, at the dead thing that moved on top of him,
sliding the slowly hardening length against the skin of his
thigh. Rune moaned against Nikos throat and with a final
pull of blood, withdrew his mouth from the wound. Rune
rose up above Nikos while the necromancer gripped Rune s
sides with his thighs and writhed when he felt the sex of the
nosferatu, fed by his own blood, press against him.
 Say you love me, Rune whispered, almost a prayer,
and most certainly a curse.
Their gazes locked, yellow with blue, and Nikos said the
only thing he could say in that instant.  I love you.
Rune cried out and slid his sex home, taking up the
primal rhythm. Nikos echoed his call before twisting
fingers in the velvet coverlet. The vampire was demanding
and brutal in his attentions, driving in again and again that
undead flesh given life. Nikos s death sense came alive
with the sensation of it. He felt the power inside him slip
out of his control.
The temperature of the room plunged lower as their
primitive dance built to a crescendo. Nikos s breath fogged
in the cold and frost traced delicate patterns across the
window of leaded glass that gazed out onto the solstice
moon, hanging rounded and full. His bones ached for the
cold of it, but he knew the vampire was close. He knew it
with the same death sense that told him the thing moving
in and out of him was not among the living. Nikos let
go of the coverlet and worked his own flesh, heated with
what blood remained in him, until the pressure began to
build low in his abdomen. His toes began to tingle from
something other than the grave. He pulled faster until he
arched his back and cried out into the night as the scalding
warmth of his climax spilt over his fingers. Rune wasn t far
behind and he gave a keening howl so much like the wolf
that shared his yellow eyes.
Nikos had asked the nosferatu once, as they lay tangled
in the sheets of the bed in his cramped apartment in the
academic district, what it felt like for the undead to bed the
living. Rune had answered that it was closest thing to being
alive that the dead could achieve without killing.
There were no questions now. Silence cocooned them
while Rune cradled Nikos against him. He could feel the
vampire leaching the warmth from his heated flesh. Nikos
sighed against him, sleep tugging at his eyelids. Had it been
a lie to get what he wanted? Or did Nikos actually love the
vampire? Nikos couldn t be sure while the poison worked
its way through his system, sweet like poppy wine.
All that mattered was the lover that held him, the lover
that didn t recoil at the touch of the grave.
 They will come looking for you soon, Nikos said,
a finger tracing languid circles on Rune s chest.  It s a
wonder the palace guard hasn t noticed a missing monster
and come for us sooner.
Rune was silent. The hand that had been pressing
Nikos to him grew slack.  You still think of me as only a
monster?
Nikos smiled.  Such a fatalist you are. And the vampire
chuckled, pulling them closer.
 What are you and your lady playing at, Rune? Nikos
asked before he could stop himself, lulled into relaxation in
the afterglow of their tryst.
 I m not sure I know what you mean, witch, Rune
answered, the last word spoken with a biting edge.
Nikos regretted the question. After the initial
unpleasantness of their first meeting, Rune had been
nothing but courteous to him, mocking and a bit forward,
but never insulting. No matter how inhuman he was, Rune
was not, Nikos reminded himself, one of the shambling
corpses that became of the unburied dead. He hungered
for the taste of the living as all the undead spirits did, but
with intelligence and wit behind those wolfish eyes. The
nosferatu was a society of individuals with their own rules
and their own secrets.
 The truce, Nikos began,  you spoke of it once not so
long ago.
 To the vulgar business, then. Pity, this was so pleasant.
Rune raised himself up on one elbow and looked down into
Nikos s eyes.  I remember well the times we have spent
together, love, and I remember what I said. I also remember
you called me mad and yet here we are. A bargain has been
struck and we can live in peace.
Nikos raised his eyebrows  Do you want to know what
I remember? The Lady Akhra, your mistress. Though, I
suppose she is your former mistress, now?
Rune s face turned serious and he instantly regretted the
question. He preferred the vampire open and mocking, if
one could truly prefer one type of monster for another.
 Akhra was old when I was young, Rune answered,
intensity coloring his words,  The earth called to her too
much. She only wanted to sleep and would gladly have
taken us into her grave with her. He eyed the mage.  That
didn t sit well with some of the others and so she is no
longer a threat.
 They killed her?
Rune only nodded, letting the severity of the situation
hang in the silence. To kill a nosferatu was not an easy
thing. To kill an elder was nigh impossible. Nikos could not
remember ever coming across a story of a vampire meeting
its final death that wasn t more than a century or so old.
 She was an obstacle and they removed her, and now the
vampires are free to live their lives in peace, Nikos said,
rising up and leaning against the carved oaken headboard.
 An obstacle to a great many things, Rune returned,
taking the mage s hand in his,  and now that we may
walk the streets without fear of torches and silver, there is
nothing keeping me from you.
Nikos raised his eyebrows, shock washing over him. He
pulled his hand from the vampire s grip.  You re serious?
 I am. I love you, no matter what you may believe my
kind isn t capable of, and I know you love me, Rune said,
passion stirring in his words.  And now we can be together
the way we were meant to be, without fear of reprisal or
repercussion.
Nikos met Rune s eyes, the impossible yellow of the sun
which he was forever denied.  How can we be together?
You are a daemon, an undead thing. I am a mortal with a
mortal s short years.
Rune laughed, a bitter sound.  I have the cold finality
of death inside you. I swim in it, drink it and swallow it
whole. You re more human than me, but only just.
The truth of Rune s words bit into Nikos s heart. How
often had he said the much the same thing to himself in the
waning hours of the night after too much wine? He knew
he should feel so much akin to the creature beside him. He
should denounce the thing for the monster it was and find a
human to love and be loved by.
 I am sorry I hurt you, Rune intoned,  but the truth is
oftentimes painful, just as new beginnings.
 Ask any woman that has given birth, I suppose, Nikos
sighed, a half-hearted attempt at humor in the light of his
circumstances.
 Do you truly find me so repugnant that you would not
even entertain the thought of the love that we could share?
Rune asked. Nikos shut his eyes against the pleading tone
of the vampire s voice. He would give anything for the
familiar mocking tone. Anything but the bitter sadness that
filled those words.
 Yes. A heartbeat passed between them.  And no.
And there it was. The truth, or at least the truth as Nikos
knew it. He despised the mortal men that would never have
him for fear of his close proximity to death and he resented
the feeling of contentment that came with Rune s touch.
Rune knelt on the bed, drawing the length of his legs
underneath him, and held Nikos s chin in his clawed grip.
 Do you love me? And only truth, from you.
The vampiric poison still lingered in his veins. Nikos
could feel its pull even as it worked its way through his
system as quickly as it had come.
 Yes, he answered and was surprised at the truthfulness
of the words as they left his mouth even as it stung his lips
to speak them.
The vampire considered him for a moment.  That will
do for now, Rune returned. He rose from the bed, letting
Nikos go.  Come, get dressed. We have a party to attend
and it wouldn t do to show the entirety of the royal court
what belongs to me.
Nikos smiled in spite of himself as he rose from the bed
and gathered up his clothes, slipping into the garments
and fastening buckles. Rune took up the silver clip once
more and fastened Nikos s hair even as the metal burned
his undead flesh though the vampire made no sound of
discomfort.
 Shall we? Rune asked, offering Nikos his arm.
Nikos considered the gesture for a moment and finally
slid his hand into the crook of the vampire s arm and let
Rune lead him into the hall. Rune needed no invitation to
cross the threshold this time, and the golden doors of the
Gallery shut with a heavy thud behind them. Nikos glanced
back at the filigreed scenes of goat-legged satyrs chasing
lithe nymphs then to the vampire at his side.
 My colleagues will be swarming for you once they see
us together, you know, Nikos said, thinking of the fatted
professors that would sacrifice anything on the altar of
curiosity to know the secrets of the nosferatu.
 I supposed the question, then, is how will you introduce
me? Rune looked down at Nikos as the mage considered
the question.
 I will cross that bridge, I suppose, Nikos answered.
The noise of the celebration began to sound as they drew
closer to the Celestine Room. Voices battled against the
music for supremacy until they became as one large sound.
Nikos felt eyes on him, noble and not, but the press of Rune
against his death sense and his side kept his stride steady as
he once again waded into the presence of the living and the
dead.
END.
Celestine Room
Copyright © 2013 by Jared Rackler
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Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / June 2013
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