I wanted to comfort him, to tell him wherever he'd gone and whatever had taken place, he was now safe again with us, but nothing could quiet him. We had to seek our dark corners away from the prying sun, we had to wait until the following night when he would come out to us and tell us what had happened. ![]() As for the bundle he had carried in his arms, what could it have possibly been? I do not even think I thought of it.īut the worst, the very worst horror of all, was that one eye had been torn from his beautiful face, and the socket of vampiric lids puckered and shuddered, seeking to close, refusing to acknowledge this horrid disfigurement to the body rendered perfect for all time when he'd been made immortal.Ī deep exhaustion saved us all from the inevitable tale. I remember only that the morning hastened us away, and if you cried too, I never heard you, I never thought to listen. He looked at me, and a faint charming smile brightened his face.Don't fear for me, little devil Armand, he said.Fear for all of us. It won't take me but a moment, and then I'll have the eye in my hand and be the doctor myself and place it here. In a low voice I whispered to him my plan.Let me go down into the streets, let me steal from some mortal, some evil being who has wasted every physical gift that God ever gave, an eye for you I'll do it. He was washed and dressed, his torn and bleeding foot no doubt healed. He came quietly into the parlor of the apartment as the darkness clambered down, starry for a few precious moments before the dreary descent of snow. In his arms, to his chest he clutched a flat bundle of folded cloth as if it carried the whole fate of the world embroidered on it. Oh, why had I come to his aid? Why must I see him brought low like this when it had taken so many painful decades to cement my love for him forever? Her swelling breasts, their shadowy cleft quite visible against the simple stitching of her dark low-cut dress, told more of God and Divinity.Īs I sank down that morning into my own resting place, secure in clean modern darkness, I cried and cried like a child on account of the sight of him. ![]() What are such holy objects now, tumbling on milky bosoms with such ease, but trinkets of the marketplace? My thoughts were merciless, but I was but an indifferent cataloger of her beauty. Quietly he sat down.Ībout her pale sweet throat she wore a crucifix so tiny it seemed a gilded gnat suspended from a weightless chain of minuscule links woven by fairies. ![]() One shoe was left to him, the other foot bare, his coat torn, his hair wild and snagged with thorns and dried leaves and bits of errant flowers.īut nothing could lessen the grotesque picture of his torn face where the cuts of a claw or fingernails surrounded the gaping, puckering lids.
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