PHIDIAS III: The day blood became bitter

'Benavides agrees to appoint me as his paladin, same as thee. It has been almost a year since the rest of my group was massacred. Do tell me, Phidias, how long since thou wast left on thy own?' Tosha asked.

'Twelve years.'

'And feelst thou not solitude, without companions?'

'It is better than watching the rest die, again and again.'

Phidias and Tosha made it to the small village of Pontresina, in Switzerland, to meet Cardinal Benavides. A haven for them had been arranged there, months ago, and they hoped to hide themselves well from the Giovannis, at least until further instructions were received.

Vampires of their lineage used to travel slower than others, and if they rushed, they risked to be dangerously weakened by the trip; they felt irresistibly attached to the land of their birth or embrace, and needed to sleep on its soil. It wasn't strange they became very territorial, or tried to keep as many havens as possible. For Phidias, Cardinal Benavides' paladin, who had to work as his agent and travel frequently, that had become a necessity. Many paladins acted as bodyguards, but the cardinal considered he should make the most of Phidias' special abilities; although reluctantly, he used to send him away to carry out his mission.

Their vampiric faction didn't believe in loners. Its organisation was based on a studied structure of power, and youngest members grouped together in small units, forming families or packs. Phidias and Tosha both had belonged to them; over the years, Benavides judged that the Greek vampire had gained enough merits to become his paladin, and had him serving right under his command. Tosha's moment had arrived as well, or so it seemed.

'I have been part of four different groups in the last fifteen years,' continued Tosha, nodding to Phidias. 'They are all dead. No mercy for our kind, and war never ends.'

Phidias didn't answer. He had also belonged to small families, mostly young undead whose inexperience facing other supernatural beings used to cost them their existences. Under his point of view, working alone was better: you didn't have to watch anyone's back, nor regret casualties. He attended, of course, brotherhood rituals and meetings with other vampires, but it wasn't the same,

'The worst thing is when you lose blood of your blood.' Tosha looked at his own hands. 'Five times I gave the Embrace, always following orders; they were nothing but soldiers for our ranks, and they all perished. The last one, with my last group... And thou? Hast thou descendants?' Phidias shook his head. 'Dead, as well?'

'I never bestowed the gift.'

'Never?' Tosha looked at him with amazement. 'Feelst thou not curious? Such an old blood like thine... Wast thou not commanded to create progeny?' Silence. 'May I be damned... Benavides surely values thee very highly, if he keeps thee for himself so fiercely...' He grinned, showing one of his fangs. 'He must be quite obsessed with thy delicious bouquet... '

'Benavides only drinks from exceptionally beautiful young children before pubescence. Knowest thou not?' Phidias condescendingly looked at his companion; Tosha knit his brow, quickly regretting his words.

'I beg thee, forgive me... I joked too lightly and showed no taste.' He bowed his head. 'Truth be spoken, envy talked through my lips... I wish I never had to create descendants, if it would not be in my hand to keep them.'

'Things might change, from now on.'

Tosha intensely stared at him. He wasn't using the same shape as that night, when they both shared blood for the first time; in fact, he hadn't used it again, despite the Russian vampire's deep desire, nor they had experienced that intimacy again. The fact is they had devoted all their energies to arrive to Pontresina as soon as possible.

That particular night Phidias had adopted the appearance of a shorter young boy, with curly light brown hair, flushed cheeks and huge innocent blue eyes; Tosha suspected those looks were destined to please the cardinal. In time, he would learn that the vampire only displayed his so called true form when asked by his superior, or when he was sharing an intimate moment, or when he wanted to show his real face to a future victim.

'I just realised we have not been formally introduced.' Tosha smiled with a certain embarrassment. 'My formal name is Anton Serguéyevich Sidelnikov. I am my Motherland's worthy offspring, although I have not set foot on there for some time. And thou... Hast thou another name, Phidias aside?'

'No. Phidias is all I need.' When he saw his expression, he added: 'If I ever had another name, I already forgot it.'

Tosha was indeed promoted to the rank of paladin. Through the following years he acted shoulder to shoulder with the Greek in many occasions; although they weren't part of any group anymore, Benavides often entrusted them with joint missions. And once he confirmed that the handsome blond vampire wouldn't be as easy to kill as his previous companions, Phidias took pleasure in having him as an ally and risking his neck with him by his side.

As Tosha could also discover, the cardinal didn't like to keep his impressive paladin away for long periods of time. He heard Phidias' nickname was The Cardinal's Cook. In a way, it was ironically appropriated; Benavides, as the rest of his lineage, had very restricted tastes when coming to feeding, and couldn't do without young and beautiful victims. The Greek was artificer of the beauty his master fed on; honouring his name, he took his living materials and turned them into something worthy of him, as a sculptor carving flesh instead of stone.

Sometimes Tosha felt jealous of that relationship, of Phidias' dedication to his task, of the way he enjoyed his existence. His thirst for possessing him, as intense as apparently useless, was even more frustrating since their opportunities to be together and alone were scarce. Besides, he discovered that the liaisons he had with humans used to satisfy him as much as the ones with vampires. He didn't kill for food, it he could help it: in the same way as one admires wine of a good year, he treasured humans whose blood delighted him and fed on them again and again.

Tosha remembered an occasion, years later, in which they had been ordered by Benavides to obtain certain information from a reputedly perverted Hungarian count. Easy as it could have been to manipulate the human's mind, Phidias chose the intricate solution, and decided they would impersonate a couple of twins who would seduce him. Tosha, sickened by repulsion, had to fight to repress his natural impulse of snapping the count's neck. His Greek companion, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the experience. After the experience, once they arrived to their private haven, still wearing the young twins disguises, all the Russian could think of was bathing in boiling water to wash the disgust off his skin, and then going out hunting and taking his time bleeding and tearing humans into shreds, as many as he could get his hands on.

While he removed his clothes, he heard his companion's quiet laughter into his mind, like mocking his obvious anger; upon turning around to snarl at him, he met Phidias' admiring gaze: still in the form of a delicate and gorgeous teenager, true, but unmistakably himself. He instantly calmed down; he stared at his reflection in the washbasin mirror and couldn't help but smiling at the identical face; the smile became even broader when Phidias approached him by his back and rested his chin on his shoulder, adding his reflection to the picture: two fair beautiful young boys, with eyes the colour of linen flowers.

'Forgive me, I know you are not fond of it, but you did very well tonight,' said the Greek, by way of apology. 'You have my word: next time we will do it your way.'

'Why do they satisfy you so much?' asked Tosha, disheartened, untying his cravat.

'Whom?' inquired the other one, raising his eyebrows and looking for his eyes, without success.

'Humans. You enjoy their company; sometimes, when you indecently share their bed, I'd say you delight in their bodies as much as they do in yours...'

The disgusted vampire was dealing with a somehow taboo subject: vampires obtained no physical pleasure from sexual intercourse. They kept existing in their own supernatural way, but they still inhabited dead bodies, just animated by blood; and only through blood their bodies were able to get satisfied.

Phidias leaned on his companion for some time, staring at their reflections; then, he walked to the huge couch covered with blankets, lay down on it and started to slowly undress himself.

'Do you know what makes humans so special, that throws me into nostalgia and envy and, at the same time, gives me the impulse to cherish them? Their capacity of getting double delectation thanks to those fragile bodies, precariously animated by the beating of a muscle, yet extraordinarily sensible. It all starts when you offer them a vision of what they hold to be their ideal beauty, and you can't help but smile to yourself, because their hearts skip a beat, and they yearn for possessing you. Then you devote yourself to arouse them with shy caresses, taking your time around the special places that spur their desire, and you hear their pulse quickening, making your hunger for biting more and more imperious; then it is when my game begins.'

'Having reached this point, you know what their appetites are, whether common or dark; either entering them, or allowing them to enter you, or maybe both at the same time, through a hidden path or several, putting the walls of composure down and letting your reason to vanish, and all your senses to disconnect but one; or, rather, grating them all to act to the greater glory and victory of that very one that you awakened under their waists.'

Tosha trembled; he turned around to gaze at his companion, now resting, naked, in that delicate rosy figure, on the fur blankets over the couch. He took off his shirt and jumped beside, on his knees, staring at him from above, his lips apart. Phidias returned his gaze calmly and continued.

'Then you ride, giddy up, charge, because the time for stalking has been left behind, and you notice, by their heat, by their flushed cheeks, by the roaring of their heartbeats, that they are almost reaching the peak with their fingertips. And you feel anxiety, a blow in your chest, because you know you want to make the moment last longer than human bodies can aspire to. So before all bursts, you bite.'

While speaking, Phidias' appearance changed; his muscles stretched, his skin whitened; long and black as night his hair grew, and his irides turned pale to the point of becoming two silver rings, shiny and pristine as the smooth skin of his groin. Tosha was left, figuratively speaking, breathless; he felt his fangs tingling, thriving through his human disguise, and completely got rid of the burden of his clothes. And Phidias carried on.

'And when you bite, and blood fills your mouth and start to cloud your senses, you must keep enough reason to feel, to hear their hearts racing to madness because their delicate frames don't know how to deal with it, with the simultaneous bliss of carnal union and red life being pumped through their skin.'

'That marks the moment in which you must dare to sneak into their minds, your conscience acting as another pair of fangs piercing and drinking, as your mouth, of that purely irrational sensation which became undisputed ruler of their psyches and bodies; right during those precious seconds before reaching climax. If you are able to look inside and seize what you see, even if just a fraction...'

'If you are able, then you will never forget. You will never enjoy again without it.'

Tosha silently leaned over the statuesque undead and, imitating him, transformed his shape. The Russian vampire became a mirror image: same alabaster limbs, same jet black hair, mixing with the one belonging to the creature under him; same disturbingly inhuman eyes. Phidias glanced at his own reflection and fell silent for some seconds. Later, once he had admired the work perfection, he smiled and stroked those lips that were identical to his.

That wasn't the reaction expected by Tosha; he wanted him more than ever, so much it hurt, but he wanted to reach him, to strike his most intimate chord, to make him yearn for him. That's why, for the first time, and following the advice he just received, he dared to dive into Phidias' mind.

He found it so easily that it almost disappointed him, yet he still embraced it. It was such a pure and untouched image, displayed in front of his eyes like an exquisite sculpture you could contemplate from every angle at the same time. And again he transformed into it: a figure even taller than Phidias, with supernaturally smooth and faded by the passage of millennia; dark and curly hair, thick eyebrows crowning eyes as black as coal and equally shadowy. He daringly reached for his companion's chin and observed his own fingers, exceptionally long and sturdy; he opened his mouth, and through his wide thin lips a husky and very deep voice came out, disconcerting him.

'This is what you desire,' stated Tosha, more than asked, with his new appearance.

Phidias' reaction took him by surprise. There was panic, astonishment, unbelief in his eyes; he froze under that impressive figure and became unable to articulate a single word. Then Tosha perceived the struggle into his companion, the conflict between the impulse to drink his fill and the fear of trying even a drop of blood.

The Russian's hand seemed to move on its own accord and brushed the firm surface between Phidias' legs; to his satisfaction, the latter slightly spread them. Also on impulse he flexed his rarely long index, ended in a sharp claw, and sank it into the point where the base of his member should have been. With a slight crack, blood started to pour on his hand; Tosha quickly stuck his greedy mouth to the wound and started to drink, with his voluntary victim quivering under his own.

After some time, equivalent to many heartbeats in human therms, the feast stopped. Phidias opened his eyes to meet that face, so close to him, again suspended over him. Those lips, crimson with blood, parted and showed the fangs piercing the tongue, dropping some pearls of thick liquid into his half-opened mouth.

The wave of indomitable desire, breaking out of the alluring Greek, struck Tosha almost physically.

The following would always be remembered by the Russian as the most irrational session of lust he had lived to date in his long years. Almost frenetic, Phidias tightly enlaced his waist with his legs, imprisoning him; making his fangs grow up to the maximum he buried them in Tosha's lower lip and allowed the gore to gush all over his face before he slid his tongue into the bloody flesh and started to suck the prized elixir. Tosha muffled a guttural howl; he needed all his might to push that avid creature away from his mouth and, in turn, get his teeth back into that marble neck and quench his thirst again.

Again and again hey bit, clawed and drank from each other, like animals in a destructive frenzy; it couldn't be told where one's mouth ended and the other one's started; there were no limits for their entwined bodies, because their flesh melted and imprisoned each other's shapes as if they were their own, as if everything had turned into a single throbbing and trembling entity trying to devour itself. And, in the same way as their bodies, their minds opened and projected their sensations, until they became unable to discern whose feelings their were experiencing; they had turned into parts of a huge and intoxicating whole, insurmountable as an immense wave in which they couldn't but drown.

Once they felt satiated they rested, though reluctantly, their scarlet bodies on the bloody jumble their improvised bed had turned into; so weak by the effect of one hundred wounds that they barely dared to move, with fear of succumbing to a hungry frenzy. Phidias forced himself to leave their haven and feed before dawn; upon his arrival, he shared loot with his spent partner, biting his tongue and letting him drink, lips against lips as in a sweet kiss. Through his half-closed eyelids he watched the Russian's injuries closing and his cheeks slightly flushing. I wish to see my Tosha' face, he thought; and this one, with intimate joy, got rid of the disguise and recovered his usual appearance; he understood that, despite all, Phidias had willingly possessed him, Tosha, not only an illusion stolen from his mind.

Fighting his exhaustion, the blond vampire managed to mix into a single chest both their resting soils. His companion allowed him to do so, with a smile.

He didn't know if that would work, but he cared little: for a day, at least, he wanted to sleep embracing his lover.

Years, alliances, war, fashions passed. New ideas emerged, old ones sank into obscurity. And the two vampires carried on as always, barely changing in the middle of an uproar of changes, but to become stronger. Tosha didn't create progeny in all that time; nobody forced him, and he didn't miss it, because he had Phidias. At least, when he had the chance.

He always experienced jealousy of the dark, tall figure that somehow took possession of him that night. He never tried to compete with him, however; he guessed he would never win, and the mere thought caused him anger and pain. The Russian did as much as he could to suppress it.

With Phidias he learned to appreciate humans as well. The nights he felt alone and searched for their company, and drank of both their blood and their pleasure, as he had been taught, the bond that linked him to his lover pounded, stronger, inside him.

But the most fascinating thing was the inebriating sensation of digging into his white flesh and feeding on his dense and mighty torrent; and every time he perceived renewed desire in Phidias, how violently he pulled him close to himself, how hungrily he bit him and drank until depletion... Then, as his guts told him, they were one.

One night in the beginning of the 30's, after an orgy, or feast, or both, at one of those parties frequented by artists in Paris, the two immortals met in private for the first time in almost one year. After dragging his partner to the cellar in which they would spend the day, Tosha held him tight and kissed him, biting his tongue and having the first sip from him in months; he suddenly released his lips, with a puzzled look, yet still holding his face between his hands.

'Your blood...'

'...'

'It has a strange taste. My tongue itches.' Phidias slipped his own one into his companion's mouth and teased it.

'All seems in order for me. It must be those drugs that run so freely amongst the Parisians. Or you might be overindulging yourself with some of those youngsters on whom you are so keen, and you forgot my flavour,' he mocked. 'If you do not wish to continue...'

'No way.' Tosha mocked back and continued the task of making it impossible for the both of them to say a word.

The Russian didn't make further comments about his lover's blood; nor he did two months later, when they met again, or the following season, when it had such an intense and weird flavour that Tosha had to force himself to swallow fast; he barely drank, but allowed him to feed to his fill, and the next dusk he had to rush out and hunt, feeling famished.

Phidias couldn't overlook all this, despite Tosha's enormous efforts to cast a veil over his thoughts. And finally, a December night in Barcelona, after swallowing a gulp, the blond vampire reached for his neck, whining; he lowered his head and a trickle of red fluid dribbled to the floor from his half-parted lips. Phidias stared at him, frowning; then he held Tosha's nape and examined the inside of his mouth. The corrosion on the pink walls, tongue and throat was clearly visible, regardless of the proverbial vampiric regeneration that had started to heal the wounds. Phidias understood, and felt great bitterness in his heart.

'It is mutating.' He held him, gently pressing his forehead against his. 'I am so truly regretful; I never meant to hurt you.'

'I know that very well.' The younger vampire opened his mind for him; he showed him his inner thoughts, his unchanging emotions. 'And I don't care. For me, nothing will change, ever.'

Tosha was sincere, yet wrong.

Phidias had survived as an immortal for centuries. He had become mightier and mightier, and in the same way as others of his lineage, his blood had started to transform; the vampire, nevertheless unaffected by it, was the receptacle of some lethal tide as corrosive as acid; any attack that made it spill could be mortal for the aggressor.

But this great power carried a high price: the vampire wouldn't be able to create descendants or human servants anymore. And also, in Phidias case, wouldn't allow him to intimately share his blood as he had done so far.

The two paladins continued their relationship as if nothing had happened; The Greek kept tasting his partner, and often using a human as a vessel between them, so that Tosha could drink of him and create the illusion of directly feeding on his lover's marmoreal skin.

But deep inside he knew that blood unites vampires, literally, more than any feeling. He knew Tosha's heart, but couldn't help that, in time, the beautiful bronze-haired being became more and more distant, and their meetings more sporadic. It was back then when Phidias decided to get a place to live in London, to where he could go and observe the vampires' comings and goings through Europe. For the first time in his existence he spent several years in the same place, as a recluse, enjoying himself with the task of turning the house he got into his castle.

Until the day arrived, a December night (the memories brought to him by that date...), in which Tosha knocked on his door, in London, with a veil of concern darkening his handsome and familiar features. The Russian kissed him, as always, and stood in the shadows, gazing at the city through the large windows. He looked even younger, wearing those wide black jeans and the thick pullover of the same colour, his bronze mane carefully messy, spread over his shoulders.

'Mi blood is mutating,' he simply said, with calm. Phidias didn't make any comment; he knew there was no need. 'Since I would lack sufficient time, I requested from Benavides a special leave, several months long, to complete a quest... Something that should have taken me years, but that's the way things are, I suppose...' He smiled. 'I want to have a descendant, Phidias; you know I never embraced anyone since I met you, but I'd wish to do it even if just once, before I lose my chance forever.

'I understand,' he assented. 'I never created progeny, but you are different. I understand your feelings. Yet it was not necessary to come and ask for my blessing; although it makes me happy that you told me, and I hope it will grant you satisfaction.'

'On the contrary: I need your blessing more than anything in this world, because I can't see how I could do it without you.' Phidias seriously stared at him and awaited for an explanation. Tosha turned around, and their gazes crossed for a long time; although they didn't need to read in them to strip each other's souls. 'I'd wish you consented to be his creator, with me; I'd wish you looked beyond his outer appearance and brought forth the hidden beauty in his features; that, when tomorrow comes, you can contemplate him and say, with pride, that he is also flesh of your flesh, as he will be blood of my blood.' Since his companion remained silent, Tosha continued: 'If you don't accept, I will give up, because Cain knows everything I ever had in this world that was truly beautiful always came from you; it couldn't be otherwise.'

'You want to give birth on my knees,' said Phidias, with a sad smile. 'Why, Tosha? You know my feelings about that.'

'I know soon I won't be able to give you my blood again.' The Russian approached the armchair where his partner was sitting. He reached for his hard and cold cheek and caressed it. ' I want us to bridge the gap between us, with a son that will be yours and mine and through whom we will be able to reach each other. I am selfish, I admit it, and I aspire you to keep belonging to be, just a little bit.' He sat astride his lap and went on stroking him; without moving his lips, he whispered: Let's go and find a human right now, because I can't repress my desire to make love with you...'

Phidias consented.

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