《The Fallen [Gothic Dark M/M Romance]》


 Part one. Chapter 1.

    He sits in front of me, legs stretched out under the table, and smiles. Drunk and serene. The way only a young, cocky boy who had not yet lived long enough to be disillusioned can smile. He is handsome. Dark, straight hair half long, an expressive face, shoulders bare with abrasions from a recent scuffle... And smell...


    The delicious, narcotic scent of young, hot blood with the tang of sweet, slightly shuddering skin from deep breathing. I inhale it stealthily and let it flow smoothly through my veins, savouring the tickling pricks of desire. His soul is aflame. A long-awaited find. I don''t take others, others don''t interest me....


    The table between us is stained with spilt wine, a couple of almost empty glasses and an unopened bottle. This evening is the sixth, and it should be the last. Not that it had any special significance here, more a matter of habit. A time-honoured whim. A remembrance of what was.


    He looks at me and talks about something. At times he stops talking, embarrassed. I look at him carefully and know that he now sees sparks flashing in my eyes in the semi-darkness, the dark inhuman light of which fascinates him. My sly attracting fire. I know. I know how he feels, and so I may not listen or speak. I just stare and smile with a moist, sensual mouth and a slightly contemptuous, teasing curve of the upper lip. And he turns away in fear, as if the respite might give him the strength to leave.


    We both pick up our glasses and finish the rest of our drinks in one fell swoop. He starts hurriedly opening another bottle. I''m watching. Watching him with my lying, depraved vampire eyes and wondering. Wondering at his reckless ignorance of danger. He doesn''t sense how close he is to the abyss he so arrogantly seeks, but from which none of them have yet returned. Is his soul not afraid? Does not his heart beat in anticipation of danger?


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    Yes, it does beat. I can hear it fluttering desperately, like a captured animal. But he doesn''t want to be afraid, and he''s thinking of me. My supple, refined androgynous body, my sneering face and my way of smoking - everything attracts, everything beckons to him. I shift my leg in a relaxed way, and I see him unconsciously trying to replicate my movement. Barely noticeable, but with a special pull that irritates his heated gaze.


    I grin. He doesn''t know how many times I''ve repeated that subtle vicious movement before. So often that it has become a natural gesture, the likes of which abound in anyone belonging to my breed. I''m not just a vampire, no. I will not suck in his quivering throat, though it still thrills me with the nervous beating of a thin blue vein. I already love the taste of his blood, but I''m not a vampire.


    I''m a Fallen.


    And I want his soul.


    He moves to me and rests his head on his arms. His eyes glittering with embarrassment from beneath his long forelock. I gently touch his knee and change my face expression. There''s desire glinting in my smile now, desire mixed with the promise of danger that excites him. He believes me, he wants to know me. And I will give him that opportunity, but afterwards I will take him to hell. To Saint Ferno, where he will become one of us. And I''ll be the first to enjoy him.


    I know my power, and I like being what I am. The Fallen. A creature of heaven who once made the wrong choice. I will tell you the truth about myself. I will be soft and vicious, languid and harsh in particularly important places, so that cautiously, but nonetheless eagerly you will want to follow me.


    I will tell you about Alistair and about the fall from a great height. And about the thrill when one realises that there is no firmament to crash against. This story is about us, the tribe you used to call incubus. The sexual vampires from whom you try to protect yourself and your children. Don''t try. I am immeasurably stronger than your morals. My unveiling will become a poison that will slowly intoxicate your souls and you, yourselves, will forget who you were before. As I have forgotten it...

 2.

    I can''t remember myself before the Fall. I hardly remember anything. I don''t even know how long ago I started forgetting. Alistair took my memory and taught me to lie, but in return he awakened my fire. I am as grateful to him as a child can be to the father who brought him into the world. I am ready to beg, just so he will do it again. And I don''t let myself beg for pleasure easily, I''m used to taking it without effort. But I have never met anyone I want more than him, my father in hell.


    He brought me to Saint Ferno, the city of lust vampires, and taught me everything. I also know I am his best disciple and the only Fallen among his lovers. Others are not worth his passion. Only in me do the cold steel of heaven and the hot fire of hell melt together. That makes the Fallen the best among incubuses and the most dangerous in this lust-obsessed clan. Even for Alistair, I am a threat.


    I think that''s why he fell in love with me, and that¡¯s why he wanted to capture me. But he knows my power is no less than his. And we hate each other, but that hatred is far from purity. It only tempts us to fight trough. In the sweet agony of an unstoppable fall. I love losing to him, and I am greedy. That''s why I''m here. But I better start at the beginning, so I don''t miss any of the intoxicating moments of our fight....


    What was I before I fell? I don''t remember. I do know I was cold and bored. Maybe there was something there that I lived for. Maybe it was better there, but I don''t remember. My life, as it is now, began with the road.


    It was a long black strip damp from dense fog with barely visible white lines in the middle. Where did it lead? I don''t know. All I knew was that this was what had sealed my fate.


    It was early morning. Or was it more of an evening? I was not sure. Because in the thick haze that had descended on the world I lived in then, both times looked the same. I walked along the edge, shivering from the cold and my own recklessness. I knew I was not supposed to come here. But where were those who tried to forbid it?


    I had a jacket on, but I still shivered from the dampness around me. My hair kept coming out from under the hairband, and I had to constantly wipe it away. I remember it was blonde. And my fingers were as slender as willow branches slipping away with the current of the river. They are still like that now, because time has no power to devour my youth. But now they know pleasure and their curves are not so indifferent.


    Silver rings embossed and dark nail polish¡­


    But then they were free of those marks of depravity. And too naked to resist. I balled them into fists and stuffed them into my pockets to keep them warm. I wanted to leave, but it was as if I was waiting for something. I knew nothing would happen. I had been here more than once before. But I always regretted going back, and this time I wanted to walk further.


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    The wind rustled menacingly through the bare trees, and the ribbon of the road became increasingly blurred in my tired thoughtless staring eyes. I was about to stop, but suddenly a new sound caught my attention.


    It was soft and tender. It came closer and closer. I froze and looked intensely into the fog. I saw a car. Its shiny body emerged from the greyness and sped towards me. I wouldn''t say I got scared. Surprised, that''s true. No one had ever driven on this road. The last thing I expected was to see this mysterious silhouette.


    I always liked cars.


    The feeling that someone was inside them, that there was a life inside, invisible for me. I couldn''t leave. Like an enchanted man, I watched it. The engine was barely to hear, the tyres gliding unobtrusively over the damp road surface. He approached quickly and drove past me. I looked back, wondering where it came from and who was driving it. I even wanted to shout something. But I didn''t get a chance to do so. It stopped. It braked hard, fifty paces away from me.


    It was a temptation. My first real temptation. And I couldn''t stand it. Slowly, very slowly and carefully, I started to move closer. I felt like the car was waiting for me. Waiting to laugh and drive away, as soon as I think I can solve the mystery. Everything around me froze, and the silence became deafening.


    The car was black.


    I had never seen a car like that before. I walked towards it, expecting it to drive away, leaving me disappointed in this grey fog, but it didn''t happen. I stopped in front of the door and looked through the window. The windows were as black as the polished sides and there was nothing to see. The car stubbornly held its secret, instead I saw myself. My reflection in the shiny dark glass. I know I saw myself for the first time then. And I was amazed. I know now that I am beautiful. But it didn''t occur to me then. I stared at myself dazed and tried to remember.


    The light skin, the delicate, flawless features, the youthful lips, slightly open from the sudden shock, the deep, dark eyes framed by a curved bundle of lashes. The dusk between my collarbones, where a frightened shadow lurked. I am long used to it now, but then, back then, I was different.


    And I could not break away from beholding myself, hastily trying to understand. I stared into my wide-open eyes. At the same time I felt someone inside the car studying me just as intently. I felt that, through my eyes, I caught the gaze of the other person, hidden from me by the blackness. I leaned against the door and pressed myself against the pane. My lips felt coldness¡­


    At that moment, I heard a slight click. I jumped anxiously to the side of the road. The car door swung open, and I saw the red interior and heard the light singing of unfamiliar music. I was being waited for...


    I don''t know why I got into that car. Perhaps curiosity, or a sense of impunity. Or something else, something much more overpowering. I don''t know. But I wanted to do it, I knew I wouldn''t get another chance.


    Without further thinking I got into this car. Slamming the door behind me. The fog and the road remained outside, safely shielded by the warmth of the cabin, and for the first time I saw Alistair¡­

 3

    It is hard to put into words my first impression, so deeply shocked I was. Even now, as I think back on all those dangerous games we played, I can''t exactly describe his face. It always eludes me and I only remember this or that detail that was revealed to me at some moment of our love. But I never see his whole face.


    Sometimes it happens that you catch an image in the many-headed stream of human faces, and it baffles you for some reason. You still try to capture its fleeing shadow, but why exactly it has stuck in your memory you won''t know. And all you have to do is greedily cherish it, while it slowly fades with time.


    It was the same with Alistair.


    I know now that slyness of appearance is inherent to all of us. I see it in the way this young mortal looks at me now, as eager and stubborn as I did then. He smiles confused and wants to pause, but I don''t give him a break. I take his palm gently in my hands and play thoughtfully with his fingers, which tremble in anticipation. I notice that a nail on his little finger has bitten off a little. He is nervous and that excites me. I gently press my lips against that unevenly nibbled pearl. He falls silent and I feel his heartbeat quicken. I take my time, stretching this delicious pleasure, feeling the shiver born in this doomed creature. His hands smell of vanilla and nicotine¡­


    Alistair''s hands smelled of danger. Yes, it was his hands and his arms that struck me most the first time. Bare arms and eyes. I had never seen anyone exposing his body as much as it seemed to me at that moment. And I had never seen such dark eyes.


    I sat opposite him in the spacious, padded cabin and stared at his shoulders in amazement. He seemed very handsome, and for the first time I was embarrassed. My own face was too lifeless compared to his volatile, liquid-flame-like features. He had all-black long hair, put up in a neat ponytail and mocking lips. He smiled, lightly, with one corner of his sensuous mouth, and leaned back in the seat.


    ¡®What are you doing here alone?¡¯ he asked, and I winced at the softness in his voice.


    ¡®I''m waiting,¡¯ I replied abruptly, and that was true.


    I began to realise that he was the one I had been waiting for. He smiled even wider and winked at me.


    ¡®Would you like to go for a ride with me?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, yes!¡¯ I sighed, even more embarrassed.


    He made a subtle gesture, and the car drove on. I didn''t know where we were going, and I didn''t care.


    ¡®What is your name?¡¯ he asked, leaning closer.


    I wondered. I had never been asked that question before, and I suddenly realised I didn''t know the answer. I was at my wit''s end. He waited.


    ¡®Vic,¡¯ I lied, it was the first thing that came to my mind.


    Just a name that meant nothing. And it was the first time I ever lied. I could see from his face that he was on to it. But he didn''t reprimand me.


    ¡®Okay, that''s what I''ll call you,¡¯ he said simply. ¡¯You can call me Alistair.¡¯


    I nodded. We drove in silence for a while. I looked into his eyes, and I felt a strange heat, a heat I had never known before. I didn''t know I could get so hot. I couldn''t stand it, averted my eyes and took off my jacket. He bent to me eagerly, and I felt his strange gaze on my body. I was scared for a moment. I lowered my head. Goosebumps, thousands of irritated tingles, crawled under my skin. Well, that was odd¡­


    ¡®I get tingles from your eyes,¡¯ I said in surprise.


    ¡®Come sit next to me,¡¯ he suggested.


    After a brief hesitation, I slid over to him. I couldn''t resist him even then, just as I can''t refuse him now. I''m a bit pickier now, though. Alistair pulled me closer to him.


    ¡®Do I scare you?¡¯ he asked.


    I shook my head, but admitted. ¡®A little... What''s with your arms?¡¯


    I gently touched the pattern that struck me, carved what seemed to be under his skin. They were snakes, dozens of black and gold snakes, intricately intertwined and stretching their bodies along his arm to the heavy bracelet on his wrist. I noticed that Alistair flinched slightly at my touch. He looked at me, and for a moment I saw a piercing, razor-sharp flash in his eyes. I know now how much he wanted me in that moment. His desires are no longer a mystery to me, and I asked myself how I hadn''t felt it then.


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    He softly pulled my hand away and grinned.


    ¡®It''s a tattoo. Have you never seen one before?¡¯


    ¡®No, never.¡¯


    ¡®You don''t know much yet, do you?¡¯ he said.


    As he rummaged in the pockets of his black leather vest, he pulled out his cigarettes. I had seen cigarettes before. I knew what they smelled like - a little incense, a little spice. But Alistair''s cigarettes smelt different. Their smoke irritated me and I coughed. He grinned again, reached under the seat and pulled out a bottle filled with something red.


    ¡®Do you want some?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®What is it?¡¯


    ¡®You''ll like it,¡¯ he filled a small glass with sweet-smelling ruby red liquid without asking again, and handed it to me.


    I knew I shouldn''t, but I took it and drank it with one gulp. The slightly bitter, spicy taste flowed through my mouth, through my veins and filled my body with an unexpected warmth. Alistair watched me closely.


    ¡®That was just wine,¡¯ he said. ¡¯Won''t hurt you, just warm you up.¡¯


    Well that was true. I suddenly felt light and almost cheerful. I felt the euphoria of thinking I had done something forbidden, and my movements became more relaxed. The alcohol slowly dissipated the tension that was holding me back.


    ¡®More,¡¯ I asked.


    Alistair filled my glass again. He himself drank straight from the bottle. I watched with interest as he drank. Greedy and unashamed.


    ¡®You are beautiful,¡¯ I said as I drank my portion.


    Alistair smiled and set the bottle aside.


    ¡®So are you,¡¯ he replied.


    He beckoned me with his finger. I moved closer. He pulled the hairband off my head and cast a disdainful glance at the ornamentation. Then he opened the window without hesitation and threw it on the road. I got no chance to stop him. I was horrified because I knew I should not have lost it.


    ¡®Why did you do that?¡¯


    ¡®It''s ugly,¡¯ he replied, pulling me by my neck and gently ruffling my hair. ¡¯You''re even more beautiful that way.¡¯


    I froze blissfully at this unexpected caress. No one had ever caressed me before. His fingers trailed along my blonde locks, and I felt his warm breath on my crown. He pulled me against him, and I nestled obediently against his shoulder. It felt good to feel his body against my bare skin, and I didn''t want to know why.


    ¡®Where are you going?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Saint Ferno,¡¯ he said, kissing my forehead.


    ¡®Where is that?¡¯


    ¡®It''s far away from here.¡¯


    ¡¯Did you get your tattoo there?¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ Alistair said, holding his lips in my hair.


    ¡®Can you take me there?¡¯


    Alistair did not answer for a long time. I sensed he was thinking.


    ¡®I can do that,¡¯ he said carefully, ¡¯but then you can''t come back.¡¯


    ¡®Why not?¡¯


    ¡®I won''t let you go...¡¯


    I backed away and looked at him intently. I remember how much I wanted to know the mystery of those lips. But I didn''t dare.


    ¡®Who are you?¡¯ I asked instead.


    ¡®It''s better you don''t know.¡¯


    ¡®Well... you''re not someone I''m allowed to talk to, are you?¡¯


    ¡®Maybe. You''ve learned a lot about fear, but you''re still a bad student. More wine?¡¯


    I nodded slowly and leaned back on his shoulder. I felt I was getting thirsty, and I didn''t object when he gave me a drink from his hands. Something was happening to me. I felt heavier than I was and warmer than I had ever felt before. I lowered my head and watched as Alistair''s fingers moved gently along my chest. I wanted to moan, as if I felt pain, but it wasn''t pain - no.... He breathed against my temple, and his breath stroked my skin pleasantly.


    ¡®It''s late,¡¯ he said. ¡¯They will miss you.¡¯


    ¡®What are you doing to me, Alistair?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®I like you, there is nothing wrong with wanting to touch you.¡¯


    ¡®I really have to go,¡¯ I answered. ¡®They will punish me if I am not back in time.¡¯


    ¡®I know, but I''ll come get you tomorrow. Will you wait?¡¯


    He kissed my forehead again, and the car stopped. He helped me into my jacket and carefully buttoned it up to my chin.


    ¡®What about Saint Ferno?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®I''m not in too much of a hurry,¡¯ he replied. ¡¯I''ll come for you tomorrow.¡¯


    I was a little dizzy from the drink, and his image was blurred in my eyes. I remembered he was serious.


    ¡®Go, Vic,¡¯ he said and opened the door.


    I climbed out of the warmth of the red interior back into the dull dampness and walked away. Without looking back. The bitter smell of his cigarettes hovered over me for a while, and the car drove away. It was dark and I don''t remember where I was going. And I don''t remember what was waiting for me there, behind the hazy wall of fog.


    Now I have the courage to admit that I was reckless. Too bold and reckless for a child of heaven. And I could not refuse the next meeting. Also because I didn''t see Alistair as evil. We met five more times on that strange road after that, and each encounter is worth being told apart. Everything that happened is forever etched in my memory, and I think that''s why I started forgetting the past. The sixth time, he took me into the abyss. The attachment to that number has become a habit of mine. I like to repeat the experience of then, and each time I rediscover something of Alistair''s motives.


    Like him, I am drawn to danger. Like a cursed man, I am doomed to replay the scenario forced on me by him again and again, knowing that I will never get enough. Greed has become my nature. The desire for death became my entertainment. How many times have I already killed myself? How many times do I have to do it before I have had enough?


    Maybe that''s why I don''t age, maybe that''s why I don''t get tired....

 4

    Saint Ferno is filled with demons and those who crave the fun they can give them. Vampires, incubuses, doomed souls dragged here by the frenzy of desires. All woven together here in one endlessly long night of unceasing orgy.


    Existence here is painful and tires many before they get to their power. I have seen such more than once, and have enjoyed their wanton lust more than once in passing. But the slip of flesh is not enough for me and I rush back to the earth, again and again, in search of souls. Such are all the Fallen. We are more greedy than those who are born incubus.


    Heavenly nature fills us with a light that burns brightly even in hell. This light leaves no one indifferent. It also makes us outcasts. Wherever recklessness takes us. Alistair knew that, and he took a sweet pleasure in torturing me. I remember the greedy interest in his eyes when I first grappled with death. I gave myself to it without a second thought, as I had given myself to him and learnt his jealousy for the first time. I have belonged to both ever since.....


    I know there''s a mystery here. Some dark secret that Alistair hasn''t told me. Something that makes him love me so obsessively. I can feel it. That deep supernatural instinct that can only spring up in the crystal blue of the heaven.


    The shadow of this mystery, its slight glimmers I see in the confused twinkle in the trusting, stubborn eyes of this young boy who so selflessly allows me to torture himself. I''m mesmerised. He is not my first prey, nor will he be my last. But for some reason, it''s his scent that unbearably stirs my nature. Someday I''ll figure out what it is. For that, I will penetrate his soul more deeply than I have ever done before.


    ¡®Come here,¡¯ I say and pull him by the arm.


    I can see his blond, curling hair in languid proximity. I pull his soft, shampoo and clover-scented locks apart with my fingers and press my lips to his neck. He wriggles slightly, but doesn''t stop me. I unbuckle his belt with teasing slowness.


    ¡®I''m scared, Vic,¡¯ he confesses and blushes.


    His face flushes, and I can feel my greed awakening.


    ¡®I know,'' I reply, not removing my hands. ¡®I won''t rush...¡¯


    He exhales in relief and rests his head on my shoulder. Yes, I won''t rush today. I''ll take my time so that I don''t accidentally miss the secret he so riskily wants to give me. The secret of our love with Alistair.


    ...It was dark by the time I could find this road again. Though I''d been here many times, I was never sure it would be where it had been hiding the last time. I kept looking for it, and I kept finding it unexpectedly. And not at all where I thought I''d find it.


    Why it was like that, I don''t know. There must have been something that kept it hidden all the time. From those who might prevent the creation of the sky from touching its damp, almost living covering.


    My hair, having lost its bandage, mussed. Somehow I enjoyed it, and I did not seek to rid myself of those intrusive touches. I only stopped liking the colour of it. I wished they were as black as Alistair''s. But no matter how much I looked at them, I couldn''t find a single dark hair. It was only in the dark that they seemed beautiful.


    At last, the trees parted and spat me out of their womb onto the black, shimmering asphalt. It was quiet. It seemed to me that I was standing not on the road, but in the void. That I was hovering inside some grandiose sphere, where there were no once and for all measured directions. I was afraid to take a step, lest I get lost in the darkness and lose my way again.


    Alistair wasn''t there yet. I sat down on the pavement and waited. He remained away so long that I began to wonder if I had dreamed what had happened the night before. But then I heard the familiar sound of the engine again. A narrow silhouette emerged from the night, cutting through the gloom with the blinding light of the headlights. I was relieved to see the road surface and the gloomy forest surrounding it.


    The car was coming straight at me, but I didn''t leave. I liked to sit there and watch it come at me menacingly. How the road groaned in a desperate attempt to stop it. Perhaps that''s when I first came close to death. And I wasn''t scared. With a shriek of brakes, the car stopped heavily in front of me.


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    I shielded my eyes from the piercing light of the headlights and got up. Red dots bounced before my eyes, and I didn''t immediately see Alistair when I got in. He was sitting where he''d been before, looking at me intently. I waved at him and rubbed my eyes, wiping away the swollen tears.


    ¡®You''re brave, Vic,'' he said in a thoughtful voice. ¡¯Very handsome and very brave. Men like you are the bait for great dangers.¡¯


    I looked up at him. The flickering stopped, and I could finally see him. This time he was fully clothed. In tight black trousers made of stiff fabric and a long black button-down shirt. The same bracelet on his wrist and that was it. No other jewellery or anything to take my eyes off his face. Perhaps that''s why I remembered it most clearly that time.


    Beautiful, with high cheekbones and an exquisite curve to his eyebrows. He had very fair skin, though perhaps it was the deep blackness of his loose hair that made it seem so. How long did he live? I don''t know. I couldn''t determine his age. All I know is that he was older than me, but not so old that well-fed maturity distorted his features. He patiently let me flounder in the bottomless darkness of his eyes and said nothing.


    ¡®I love you,¡¯ I said without knowing why.


    With a shudder, he grinned faintly.


    ¡®I know,¡¯ he replied and pulled me to him.


    I eagerly snuggled myself against his shoulder and closed my eyes relaxed. He put his arm around me and helped me take off my ridiculous, sparsely fringed jacket. Tucking it under the seat, he pulled me close again, and I felt his hand on my body with excitement. The car engine rumbled softly, and his fingers slid leisurely over my skin. I was ravenous for his touch. I sensed some danger lurking here, but I couldn''t give it up.


    ¡®You''re doing something to me, Alistair,'' I whispered. ¡®I want to moan...¡¯


    ¡®Moan,¡¯ he replied, his lips touching my earlobe.


    I shook my head in denial and pressed myself closer to him. It was a maddening roiling wave, a warmth that made me squirm. I didn''t know then how powerful incubuses are. I felt like I could stop it at any moment. And I wasn''t afraid. Meanwhile, his poison was slowly toxifying my soul.


    I wished his touch wasn''t so torturous. I wanted to ask him, but I didn''t have the chance. At that moment, he shoved my head up, and I felt the scalding taste of his lips on my lips that weren''t ready to resist. I didn''t know what a kiss was and froze. Stunned that it was possible to do and feel such a thing.


    He moved away slightly and looked into my eyes with intense scrutiny. Even then I could sense the insanity in his gaze. The madness that made him love me. Greedily tearing me to himself, he pulled me to his mouth again, and I felt his tongue. Hot and demanding. For several long minutes he tormented my mouth, and I trembled, terrified to accept this new caress. It was unbearable, unbearable, and terrifying!


    With a shriek, I yanked my head out of his hands and pulled away. I sank into the seat next to me. My mouth was burning, and I could feel my lips filling with blood. They swelled painfully, and I couldn''t close them. I felt as if I had forgotten how to do it. So I covered them with the palm of my hand in desperation.


    Alistair was looking at me with mad burning eyes and breathing heavily. I could see him struggling with himself. I know I was one step away from falling even then. But Alistair was afraid. He wanted me and he was afraid of me and to this day I can''t understand why....


    ¡®I''m sorry I scared you,¡¯ he said, finally pulling himself together.


    I nodded slowly and turned away, unable to bear his gaze any longer.


    ¡®Would you like some wine?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®No,¡¯ I answered with my disobedient lips.


    They seemed to have a life of their own and didn''t want to obey me. It frightened me.


    ¡®I have to go,¡¯ I said, and reached for the brass knob tucked safely into the scarlet upholstery of the door.


    ¡®Wait,¡¯ he stopped me. ¡¯I have something for you.


    He reached under the seat and got a jacket. It wasn''t my jacket. It was a hard black one, with silver ribbons of zip and a silk lining as red as my lips. It was a really beautiful thing. The most beautiful thing I had ever seen before. I looked at it avidly.


    ¡®Would you take it?¡¯ Alistair asked with uncertainty. ¡®It will fit you better. And it''s warmer.¡¯


    My hands, against my will, reached for the gift. I felt as if my body didn''t belong to me anymore. Alistair helped me put on the jacket and smiled when he saw my genuine delight.


    ¡®Do you like it?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®And I want hair like yours,¡¯ I said, touching the black strands of his hair with sudden boldness.


    Alistair pulled away warily and smiled.


    ¡®I like your colour,¡¯ he said. ¡¯It looks like weeping flax and smells of wind.....¡¯


    ¡®I want it like yours,'' I repeated stubbornly. ¡¯Can you make it for me?¡¯


    ¡®Maybe,¡¯ he said evasively, ¡¯but there''s no need to hurry. You''re already beautiful. Too beautiful,¡¯ he kissed my temple. ¡¯I''ll come get you tomorrow.¡¯


    ¡®Promise?¡¯


    ¡®Yes.¡¯


    I shifted away from him and got out of the car without looking at him again. I felt like he wanted to call out to me, but I didn''t turn round. My lips were still burning, and even the dampness and cold of the night couldn''t douse that dark heat. Covering them my hand, I went deeper into the whispering curtain of trees. When Alistair left, I don''t know....


    It was the second time I''d seen him, and it shook me even more. His jacket stayed with me as a memory of his touches. Soft and, at the same time, hard, it worried me dangerously. I still wear it and know that there will be no thing more beautiful or vicious in my life than this gift of Alistair''s....

 5

    Many times, countless times, I have heard people tell me they love me. They say it as if those words could keep them out of danger. As if, once said, they will forever remain a secure fence that should keep their dreams from falling. Painfully doubting and blushing, they squeeze them out of themselves in the vain hope of stopping the inevitable disaster. I love these moments of frightened revelations.


    I often wonder if Alistair ever told me how he felt. No, he''s never spoken about it. But I know that in this whirlwind without a name, he obsessively seeks only my echo. And I can''t help but respond to his madness, toppling myself from the throne of my own arrogance time after time. It is only for the mystery that torments me that I drink the souls of others.


    How do I choose my victims? I think you''ll be interested to know. The same way I hear Alistair. I hear him all the time, as if his whisper is inseparable from my thoughts. I hear the hum of fire and the heat of searching images. I glide in the thick stream of perpetually fearful humanity, closer and closer to the one who does not love fear. I am drawn to the courage. And I love the beautiful.


    I found this boy by accident. I was hungry, too hungry to choose, but he, himself, came into my arms. He was drunk and open. And I entered his soul without much effort, leaving the imprint of my desires on the retinas of his dilated eyes. When he woke up, he was already looking for me. Impatiently and greedily.  And I didn''t keep him waiting. We''ve met five times now, five strange times, hidden by equally strange excuses. And on this night, I''m taking him with me....


    Incubus-borns differ from us in the directness of their desires and the plainness of their lust. They lack the subtlety of seduction and do not know the growing power of long games. But I am not such. And I seek out those who can resist me. Dissolving among the tangled labyrinths of abyssal places like Saint Ferno, only they can learn to enjoy it. But they are not destined to change their nature. Their existence will be like an elaborate, exquisite torture. I can squirm with pleasure, hearing them calling to me. But I do not often return. And they are left to serve as wilful playthings in the greedy hands of the Born.


    Once, when I met one of them, the hot-headed pretties of hell, I asked:


    ¡®What do you think is the most important in love?¡¯


    ¡®The moment of getting,¡¯ he answered without hesitation.


    I knew who he''d chosen. Handsome, lucky and miserable with his desires. I laughed. Because I knew both would be deceived. There''s no beauty in moaning without pain, and there''s no pain without a tear of the soul.....


    I don''t pity them. And I''m too arrogant to listen to their scornful envy. The eternal envy of fire over sharpened steel. The Fallen are not loved in either world. Because when we kill, we do not devour like a merry flame. We give endless freedom and room for long suffering.


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    We are simply recognisable: we have nothing but ourselves. Our lives are hindered by the beautiful wrapping of the world''s best gifts. Unlike incubus-born, we do not seek it. I don''t know where that comes from. Perhaps from an innate contempt, born in heaven. From the emptiness and coldness of this self-sufficient space. It''s even possible that I sometimes feel a vague longing, a shadow of memories of a life that Alistair wasn''t in yet. But I am not drawn back. I''m too greedy to give up pleasure. And too cruel to give it away for nothing. My current prey seems to realise something. Suddenly he tries to jump off my lap, scared.


    ¡®Where do you think you are going, Wolfie?¡¯ I gently shush him and draw him to me again.


    He doesn''t resist. I don''t know his name. I call him Wolfie. He likes it. That silly nickname, awakened by my lips, makes him more agreeable. Putting his arms around me, he bravely puts his face up. I kiss him on his closed eyelids. He laughs.


    ¡®You know how to seduce,'' he says and I smile too. ¡®May I kiss you?¡¯


    I nod and let him take over. He runs his hand through my hair, and I taste his lips. They''re soft and stubborn at the same time. He smells of wine and uncertainty. I''m captivated. For that, I allow him a few moments of triumph, adorned by the languid intertwining of tongues.


    ¡®I want you slowly,¡¯ I confess when he finally pulls away from my mouth. ¡®But I want you tonight....¡¯


    He lowers his eyes, startled by my gaze. I gently squeeze his tense thighs. He grabs my wrists, trying to hinder my movements.


    ¡®You''ll get me, Vic, you know it,¡¯ he whispers, ¡®but don''t scare me, okay?¡¯


    ¡®I like your fear, Wolfie.¡¯


    We freeze in a stunned vibrating pause. He slowly releases my hands. I smile with just my eyes. Our last night is drawing me in more and more, and I''m ready to stretch it out to infinity....


    What I dislike most in the human world is morning. Its gentle light is incredibly harsh. It considers itself entitled to measure time. That brief time of blissful power of the magnificent creatures of night, when illusions and desires can materialise from the bottomless recesses of darkness. To grace the miserable sparseness of human life with their presence.


    But morning comes, and the daring beauty of intoxicating seduction withers like a rudely plucked bud that has not had time to inflate. But I have learnt to make it open before it begins to perish under the merciless light of a new day. That''s why my nights are so devastating to your souls. You get too far gone to come back. And tonight will be the longest night of his life and mine.


    I rise, excitedly rubbing myself against his supple body, and draw him into the room. To where the untouched bed stand watchful and innocent. In anticipation of the sweet moment when two eager lovers will violate its deceptive virginity.


    He doesn''t struggle. I can feel how greedily and a little fearfully he scrutinises my body from beneath his trembling lashes. His gaze slides down to my belly and rests uneasily on the black belt around my thighs.


    ¡®We forgot the wine,¡¯ he remembers, and makes a slight slipping gesture with his bare shoulders.


    I shake my head and sit him down on the bed.


    ¡®No, Wolfie,¡¯ I reply in a soft whisper that poisons his resistance. ¡¯I don''t want your senses to be dulled. There''s enough alcohol in your scent to make me drunk.¡¯


    ¡®Will you leave me in the morning?¡¯ he asks doomed.


    ¡®If that''s the case, there will be no morning for us,¡¯ I press him back against the bed with ecstasy. He shudders and gives in....

 6

    ...That morning really isn''t coming. I don''t know, I just feel it. The sense of danger, coursing through his veins, draws me irresistibly to plunge into it. It was like that with Alistair, and I''m obsessively trying to resurrect that feeling time and time again. And the morning is yet far away. In my reality, it doesn''t exist. The third time we met was the only time I wanted to see Alistair in that annoying light.


    I was angry and scared. I remember that someone had tried to instil fear into my soul and had succeeded. If I was not bold and maybe na?ve, I would not have gone out on that road again. But my foolhardiness and my desire to know the truth compelled me to turn again to the elusive path among the dead trees. To this narrow bridge on the way to the abyss.


    I had already guessed that Alistair, like me now, dislikes mornings. And I wanted to see its faintness. I hoped that without the ghosts of darkness he would be unarmed. I was sure he would not come. But I was wrong.


    Barely had I reached the road when I saw his car. For a while I stood still. I was tormented by doubts. I could not believe that he had risked coming here like this, without the intoxicating veil of darkness. He risked it to see me. Eventually my anger overcame my fear, and I approached. I studied my own reflection in the car window for a few minutes, knowing he could see me. My eyes glittering with doubts and worry, the pale blue shadows beneath them, and my stubbornly bit lip. Finally, I swung the door open and peered inside.


    ¡®Get out, Alistair!¡¯ I shouted. ¡®Why don''t you ever get out?! Maybe you should tell me that???¡¯


    Alistair did not answer. He looked at me in silence. The darkness of his eyes was no less mesmerising in the morning sunshine than in the twilight. They seemed to have turned even darker, almost merging with the vicious colour of his hair. The morning light appeared to fade, swallowed up by their fathomless desperate darkness.


    And that darkness reached into my soul.


    ¡®Come here, Vic,¡¯ he called. ¡¯Light is not made for feelings, even less for confusions. It is a poor frame for your fire.¡¯


    I felt my legs shaking at the sound of his voice. Tired of resisting, I slowly crept into the cabin. I climbed onto the seat  and looked straight into his eyes.


    ¡®Tell me about yourself, Alistair,¡¯ I demanded.


    He tilted his head to the shoulder, and I saw the glint of steel in his gaze. But it wasn''t the cold steel that rusts in its sheath. It was steel that had known the embrace of death, adorned with the flowing pattern of fresh, hot blood. I shuddered and looked away. Alistair laughed. With a deep, quiet laugh, and I realised that my question had truly amused him. But it was someone else''s fear moving through me. I needed answers to have the strength to get him out of there. I never liked being afraid. I touched his arm.


    ¡®Tell me.¡¯


    Okay,¡¯ he replied. ¡¯What do you want to know?''


    I hesitated. I remember it was agonising. It was incredibly agonising to see his waiting hands, the exhilarating depth of his breath, and to burn with shame, forcing myself to speak. To talk about something that didn''t really matter anymore.


    ¡®You''re a stranger here, aren''t you?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Are you asking if I am an enemy to your immortal soul obsessed with someone else''s virtues?¡¯ he questioned sharply, and I had no choice but to nod. Because he was right.


    ¡®Yes, I am. I can scorch your soul. If you trust me, you will perish to the easy oblivion of heaven. I''m possessed with pleasure, and I want to enjoy you. I am not interested in morality if it stands in my way. To your world, I am an enemy. What else do you want to know?¡¯


    ¡®You''re doing something to my body. Something dirty¡­¡¯


    Alistair laughed again.


    ¡®Your viciousness masked by naivety teases me,'' he said. ¡¯If you want an answer to that question of yours, you''ll have to trust me and find out for yourself the difference between dirt and delight. The other question is whether you want to find out?¡¯


    Instead of answering I asked:


    ¡®What is this place, Saint Ferno?¡¯


    ¡®It is a harbour for vice. A home for those who are tired of climbing to heaven and for those who realise they can''t get there anyway. If you want to get there, you''ll have to learn how to enjoy.¡¯


    ¡®Is that it?¡¯ I asked in a whisper.


    ¡®No, that''s not all. I will have to take you. Our bodies will have to merge so that you become heavy enough to fall from the heights.¡¯


    I was frightened into silence, afraid he would tell me more. But he didn''t. He grinned and stared at me. From that gaze, sliding sensuously over my body, the fears of the day hurriedly left my soul. I was suddenly at ease. I unbuttoned my jacket, his jacket, and took it off. Smiling, he took my hand and pulled me to him. I remember how sweet it was to feel his body again, separated from me only by a thin partition of excitingly soft fabric.


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    ¡®I want wine, Alistair,¡¯ I asked. ¡¯I believe you''ve been honest.¡¯


    ¡®It doesn''t happen often,¡¯ he said, holding out a bottle to me.


    I took a sip, trying to copy his movements, his greedy gulps. This wine was sweet, and I choked with surprise. The spicy liquid flowed generously down my chest, leaving reddish streaks behind. Alistair laughed again and took the bottle.


    ¡®You''re a bad student.¡¯


    He shoved me down, forcing me onto his lap. I froze awkwardly, watching as he lingered and touched my chest with his tongue catching up the sweet droplets. His tongue was hot, his movements soft, and I didn''t want to escape. Covering my eyes with my hand, I moaned softly. I felt him shiver. I felt his shudder pass through the pathetic cocoon of my skin, tired to resist. I thrust recklessly toward him, and felt his lips close greedily on my nipple. He pulled it with his teeth.


    ¡®More,¡¯ I asked stunned.


    His movements became more demanding and his tongue bolder. I felt his tantalisingly light bite again and suddenly heard him moan. A quiet, rapturous moan, hidden by the night-black hair that swept across my chest.


    It felt like he was digging into my flesh, and I hadn''t known until then how good it felt to be dying. My fingers closed around his head, and he obeyed with ecstasy. I don''t know how long I allowed him this dangerous caress. I remember coming to my senses at the  smell of his cigarettes. He was smoking with his eyes closed, and I was lying on his lap, breathing heavily. And I had no strength in me to get up.


    ¡®Teach me this,¡¯ I begged. ¡®I want to be burned.....¡¯


    ¡®These games may take you further than you think, Vic.¡¯


    ¡®You''re afraid, Alistair,¡¯ I realised. ¡¯Why are you afraid?¡¯


    He didn''t answer. Putting out his cigarette, he leaned over me. I felt our lips meet again. The dark and blond strands of our hair intertwined in a chaotic pattern, connecting and entangling our senses. I felt like I was losing my mind. His eyes were open, forcing me not to hide behind the saving barrier of closed eyelids. His tongue and his gaze penetrated me, deeper and deeper. To where the regret about the heaven still fluttered. I jerked away. He released me and I felt to the floor, gulping for air.


    ¡®How long can this last, Alistair?¡¯ I asked, clutching my burning temples.


    ¡®All night,'' he answered, looking at me with eager eyes.


    ¡®And in the morning, what will happen in the morning?¡¯


    ¡®You''ll start to fear what you''ve done.¡¯


    ¡®Is there anything to prevent it?¡¯


    ¡®Only courage. It will get you to a place where night never ends with dawn.¡¯


    ¡®Saint Ferno?¡¯


    ¡®Saint Ferno is just a place. A black dot on a map of darkness. The real night is in your soul. There you can live forever.¡¯


    ¡®What if I get tired of it?¡¯


    Alistair was silent. When I looked at him, I saw that he had turned away.


    ¡®What if I get tired, Alistair?¡¯


    ¡®You know it yourself, Vic,'' he said unwillingly. ¡¯It''s that knowledge that feeds your fear.¡¯


    ¡®And you?¡¯


    ¡®I don''t get tired.¡¯


    I stared at him for a long time and remained speechless, unable to find the words to continue this conversation. I could see his profile framed by the black locks that were mussed from our games. His gaze was distant. It was as if I could only see his image. A ghost whose soul was wandering in another dimension. I desperately wanted to follow him, to catch up with him and, smelting with his confusion, to float for a long time lost in the void....


    It was only the new questions that made me speak again. I couldn''t not ask. He was the only one from whom I heard answers. Suddenly I realised how much I had wanted to know about things I had not thought existed until there were lips willing to speak to me. I shuddered and faced him again.


    ¡®Why did you come for me, Alistair?¡¯ Why do you seek me? I am not the one to give you peace, am I?¡¯


    Alistair turned towards me. I saw his snow-white teeth framed by lips curved in a mysterious grin.


    ¡®You were taught that peace is the highest value, weren''t you? But even in the heaven, there are winds. Faint, timid winds from your wings. And even one white bird can cause a tornado if wings are all it has. I need you, Vic. You know the unseen rage of Heaven. I just bloody want you...¡¯


    He touched my knee and, in one elusive movement, slid down, coming dangerously close again. It was then that I first experienced the poverty of mercy. He showed me how beautiful the greedy cruelty of desire could be. Piling on top of me, he nestled his hips against mine. Without listening any longer, he pressed me painfully against him.


    I could see that he had overcome his fear. His hands slid down my body, leaving burning paths in their wake. His lips explored me, and I felt the lust stirring in my groin. I didn''t know what it was and so I screamed. Desperately and greedily. He kissed me again, and I was vaguely aware of my own trembling hands slipping under his shirt. I felt the taut impatience of his muscles, the hot wetness of the hollows where his chest merged seamlessly with his shoulders, the infinite sweetness of his skin.


    ¡®I love you, Alistair,¡¯ I said again, pressing my lips to his chest.


    ¡®I''ll take you with me, Vic,¡¯ he whispered hoarsely. ¡¯I''ll take you with me...¡¯


    His gaze was insane, hidden by a murky shroud of demonic despair. I wanted to scream, and I didn''t hold back. He kissed my belly and the hot throbbing, rushing upwards, twisted my body in dark ecstasy.


    I didn''t know what he could do to me. If I had known then, perhaps I would not have risked to compete with him in courage. But I am grateful to him for not breaking the saving cocoon of my innocence then. I had completely lost my head from the unbearable sharpness of the new sensations, and had almost forgotten who I was. But then he suddenly opened the car door and pushed me out. Out onto the rough mockery of the asphalt. I rolled dazedly on that indifferent grey surface, not yet realising what had just happened. Alistair hung down from the saloon and, still trembling, watched me.


    ¡®Run, Vic,¡¯ he whispered. ¡¯Run from me, if you still have strength. I''ll catch you when you think you are safe. Run now, and know that I will never tire of pursuing your soul. Only when you are truly desperate will I take you with me....¡¯


    He lit a cigarette, and I saw his smile again. Dangerous and predatory, like of a wolf ready to leap. Like of a beast possessed only by heat of chase. And that''s when I knew I''d do anything to keep him from catching me. So that the mad thrill of that fight wouldn''t fade away, swallowed up by the indifferent light of reality.


    ¡®I will not tire,¡¯ I promised him. ¡¯I will escape from you, even if I have to die. I have the strength to run forever. You are doomed...¡¯ and I smiled too.


    I know my smile shook him. It held the promise of an endless death. And love. A dangerous love between two obsessions. I knew then that he loved me. And I knew that I loved him ravenously. So I got up and, still smiling, crossing the maddening grins of our passion, I walked into the woods. Away from him, away from the dull faintness of morning.....

 7

    Many times later I reflected on that incident. There was much I didn''t know then, but Alistair led me down the path of understanding. That doomed understanding of the damned that makes them eternally tormente, avoiding any peace. I realise now why he waited. He could have get me at any of those times we met in unreachable heights, far away from the damp abode of vice. But he wanted me to lose my fear. To let that wretched inhabitant of the soul free the space in the name of the intoxicating temptation of chaos.


    He taught me to love at the edge, floundering in the torn hymen of self-preservation. And I learnt to tempt. I think that''s when I first realised how sweet temptation is. And it was the first time I didn''t want clarity. And I betrayed heaven even then.


    Later, after the Fall, I sought a lot. I looked for a reflection of this raging torrent of desperate longing for freedom. I found it in music. Not the kind of music that makes you realise your own wretchedness with awe, but the reckless licentiousness with which the ego proclaims its superiority. Music that challenges and amuses, destroys, if you want.....


    I first heard it in Saint Ferno. In a place hidden by eternal vapours called Infernando. Where one goes to seek the abundant pleasures that only the Born know how to give. Beautiful and vicious children of lust. And I was the only Fallen that night.


    I remember it was dark. Not as dark as it usually is in this reality, but dark as if that darkness was immeasurably enhanced by the flickering of tiny stars of light. Attracted by my search for pleasure, I made my way down the street, in the arms of two new mates. One of them had been dragged here by me and I had not yet had enough of him. The other was an incubus. Both of them were almost naked. I covered my body out of old habit, knowing the mystery was more exciting than the revelation of flesh offering itself.


    Pulling the human against me, I kissed him deeply on his liquor-flavoured mouth. He groaned and slid his fingers pleadingly under my belt. I wanted him right here, in the quiet of this twisted alley. The incubus kissed the back of my neck. I felt a growing lust and for a moment wondered who I wanted more. The greed of the Born, or the sweet submissiveness of the mortal.


    At that moment, I felt it. Like the imperious beating of someone else''s heart very close by. I stepped away and sniffed like a beast. Somewhere was happening something that I should have seen. Leaving both to enjoy each other, I walked away. I could hear the inviting heat of the breath of the bodies entwined behind me, but I didn''t look back. I knew I was in for another treat tonight.


    I walked to a dimly lit square, at the far end of which the red sign ¡®Infernando¡¯ flickered invitingly. This was a club I had not yet been to. I had seldom left Alistair''s bed those period.


    With a determined push of the door, I found myself in a cigarette-smoke-filled space. It was full and everyone was whispering in anticipation. Gorgeous incubuses and the touching doomed children of humanity. They were intricately woven together in a bizarre pattern of frozen orgy, shared by the waiters scurrying between them. I made my way to the bar and ordered a drink. I''d always liked red wine. Perhaps it was then that the exquisite of bloodlust began to awaken in me.


    I was studied with stares. Envious and eager. I knew I could get any of them, but I was waiting for something, giving in to the overall mood. Some guy with coloured strands in his hair came over to me and gently touched my shoulder. I smiled at him.


    ¡®Is tonight a special night?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®Jim is performing tonight,¡¯ he replied.


    ¡®Who''s Jim?¡¯


    ¡®The Wanderer. He''s recently returned.¡¯


    I already knew what ¡®recently returned¡¯ meant. It meant that he had died where he was considered mortal. I myself had returned more than once. In memory of that night, I always began to recover in Infernando afterwards. I gave myself to anyone who wanted to take me. I did not refuse anyone until I was so satiated that I forgot about the last incarnation. Your world is stingy and I always return hungry....


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    Intrigued, I stared at the stage, cradling the incubus against me.


    ¡®Who is Jim? Why is he so eagerly awaited?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, you''re new, aren''t you? You''re Fallen, right?¡¯


    ¡®Yeah. My father in hell is Alistair.¡¯


    ¡®Then you''d better hear for yourself. Jim is not as pretty as you, though,¡¯ the incubus touched my knee.


    I pressed it against his groin. His breathing quickened, and he closed his eyes.


    ¡®Is it true that sex with the Fallen is the best?¡¯


    ¡®I don''t know, I haven''t slept with one.¡¯


    He laughed a teasing, melodic laugh, the way only fun-longing incubus know how to do. I slid my hand under his shirt and froze. At that moment, Jim stepped onto the small, low stage of Infernando. I knew immediately that I needed him. Not so much for fun, but to learn the dangerous art of destroying myself.


    He was a genius at it. When he sang, I forgot everything. I felt in love. In love with the greedy affection of an incubus and the high confusion of a child of heaven. It was my music. Aggressive, ironic. It spoke of freedom, of eternal fall, and I remembered I''d heard it before. When? Probably when I was hurtling through the abyss in Alistair''s arms.


    After that I had been to many performances by many returnees and more than once I had been born to hear them in the mortal world. But that night I will never forget. Jim sang things he performed on Earth and new stuff that none of you will hear. Except those who would be foolhardy enough to believe me and follow me. It''s true that music sounds different in hell. I know the difference. Humans can only hear the echo of its soul-damaging power.


    I shoved the incubus away and walked towards the stage. I stood opposite Jim and closed my eyes, revelling in the destructive energy of his words. Many were ready to help him forget himself. You could see how weary he was from his long wanderings. But I knew they were all not worth him. Only the Fallen One could understand him.


    Our eyes, hiding a dark demonic revelation, met. After playing the last song, he jumped into the audience and walked to me. I felt his longing. Obeying his will, I let him embrace me. I allowed him much more when we were alone in the semi-dark space of the dressing room. I remember his passion was desperately angry, and I knew he didn''t care about me. Endlessly, I absorbed his aggression. He hurt me, and that pain drained my greedy vampire nature. He drank my power, and I savoured this. Then, naked, we sat on the couch and smoked.


    He grinned.


    ¡®You''re not like the others,¡¯ he said. ¡¯You gave yourself to me to ask for something in return. Your skin is sweet, but your eyes are hateful. Why did you belong to me?¡¯


    ¡®Tell me about music,¡¯ I asked. ¡¯How do you do it?¡¯


    ¡®The same way you love,'' he replied. ¡¯Pleasure and destruction are inseparable. You ruin yourself and when you get to the edge, that''s when your fire burns the brightest. So bright that it dazzles everyone around you. That''s how music is born and that''s how love is born. And there are many who want to burn with you.¡¯


    ¡®Teach me how to do that,¡¯ I asked, touching his hand.


    ¡®Have you ever tried drugs?¡¯ he asked me in surprise.


    ¡®No,¡¯ I admitted.


    ¡®Do you want me to rob you of your innocence?¡¯


    ¡®Do it,¡¯ I agreed, shuddering with excitement.


    ¡®Close your eyes,¡¯ Jim commanded and I obeyed.


    I trembled in anticipation of danger.


    He pulled my arm tight with his belt and kissed the inside curve of my elbow. Then I felt a mildly disturbing prick. The belt slipped off, and I felt the drug filling my blood. I rested my head back on the pillows. Through the sense of almost crystal clarity that followed, I felt fraction of a strange, almost cold love.... A love without touch, without words, without the rubbing of bodies. I could feel my flesh decaying, letting his soul in. It was ecstatic, it was incredible!


    ¡®Does it feel good?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Yes. I''m dying, Jim.¡¯


    ¡®You''re not dying.¡¯


    His voice fluttered in my head like a candle flame, like music. I had a sudden urge for lust. I was a Fallen, and the drug was ruthlessly aggravating my already violent nature.


    ¡®I want to die, Jim,¡¯ I admitted.


    He smiled, took my hand and led the way. We went back to the hall. My eyes sparkled, and I could make out every face hidden in the darkness. My body was on fire! Never before had I behaved so wildly. My body was twisting with lust! I threw myself into incubuses arms. Someone¡¯s fingers were ripping my skin. I felt as if I had lost its covering forever, leaving only greedily contracting nerves. One got to my body, another was touching my lips, licking the thin thread of saliva that dripped from my half-open mouth. I had lost my arrogance.


    Some mortal with a flicker of cruelty in his eyes leaned towards my face.


    ¡®The Fallen One has abandoned pride, hasn''t he? Today, anyone can be your master? Even a human?¡¯


    I repeated this experience many times afterwards. Especially when I returned. And each time they gave me more than they took. Tearing me to pieces, they gave me the pleasure of nothingness. Perhaps the Fall has damaged my mind after all. Maybe I secretly hate myself, I don''t know. Destruction gives me pleasure. Isn''t that the nature of all evil?


    Alistair despised me, but his scorn only fuelled our passion. Love, death and music merged for me. Became something like the Holy Trinity, if they had the courage to collapse into hell. Did I do drugs after that? Of course I did. I wanted to try every road, but there were more painful ways¡­

 8

    Love, death, ... music. I became almost religious. I even started to look for my parish. Those of you who are somewhat like me. I hunted where the freedom of rebellion reigns. New roads, new paths.


    I found Wolfie in one of the clubs. I sat in a dark corner, hidden by other people''s backs, and watched him. I was mesmerised. He teased my eyes, dancing by the stage. He was swaying from too much alcohol, but he didn''t leave, stubbornly shaking his hair which glistened in the spotlight. He was pushed and knocked over, laughed at, but he got up again. Handsome, defiant, with an abyss of doubt in his eyes. He provoked as he was losing the condescending attention of the crowd. His pale knees flashed in the cuts of his worn jeans. He smelled of arousal and I knew he was doomed. Doomed to love me.


    I rose slowly, stretching out the pleasure of the coming closeness. I walked towards him, trying not to miss any of his movements. I could smell his scent. He lifted his head and recoiled in fear when he saw me in unexpected nearness. I know how to be stealthy, and I know how to suddenly become swift. If I need to. And I needed him. He stared at me for a few seconds. Shifting his surprised gaze from my slim, skinny-jeans-clad legs, along the snowy white revealing top, closer and closer to my eyes. Then he chocked headlong into its naked darkness.


    ¡®You move nicely, Wolfie,'' I said, peering up into his face, confused like that of a child stumbling upon a naughty scene in the film for the first time.


    He tried to back away, but he only wobbled drunkenly sideways. I held him back while I savoured the feel of his heated body. He gently removed my fingers from his waist.


    ¡®Who the hell are you?¡¯ he threw, trying to be rude.


    I grinned, glad to join the game.


    ¡®You can call me Vic. I want to hang with you.¡¯


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    ¡®Be my guest,¡¯ he waved his hand  and switched back to the music.


    I couldn''t refuse him and joined him in his spontaneous dance. At the same time I could feel his eyes on me. He tensely followed my movements, the swift vicious movements of a seducing vampire. Sometimes his was lost, increasingly swallowed by the vapours of the alcohol he''d drunk. But I knew he wouldn''t forget. He wouldn''t forget my refined muscles, the tantalising curve of my neck, or the blackness of my hair, long-lost its innocence. I know my power and I already know how to use it. Finally, his legs gave out and he collapsed at my feet, broken by inexperience and fatigue.


    I leaned over him, catching his gaze drifting off into the nothingness of drunken sleep, and kissed him greedily on the lips. He mumbled something weakly, pushing me away, and froze, clutching at my hand with his clenched fingers. I smiled. I knew he would no longer want to escape. I carried him into the darkened alcove and left him, overcoming my own greed for him. I wanted him, but I didn''t want to hurry. Something in his leaving glance managed to hurt my soul, and I wanted to know what....


    He had kept his secret so that he could pour it out on me tonight. On this strange and dangerous night. He wriggles under me and moans a little. I know he''s scared. But I''m scared too. And I''ve always thought I don''t like to be afraid.


    I¡¯m pressing him back against the sheets and giving him freedom again. He flinches and I can feel how turned on he is. We''re still clothed, and this ephemeral defence gradually provokes his boldness. He lays his whole body against me and runs his fingers through my hair. He loves the colour of it and its still angelic softness.


    ¡®You''re not a natural brunette, Vic,¡¯ he says, slyly hiding his eyes. ¡¯You¡¯re blond. It''s grown back a little at the roots. I noticed that a long time ago.¡¯


    ¡®I''ll have to dye it,¡¯ I smile and let him touch my head with his lips.


    Where the stubborn flaxen whiteness really does show through, a mocking reminder of the past. The time when I still hesitated to disobey Alistair. He liked that I was different from him. He was aroused by my innocence. And I wanted to be his reflection. A mirror in which he could appreciate his own perfection. Or maybe I just wanted to humiliate him to expose his feelings. I told you before, I enjoyed tempting him. So I was stretching out the time, putting off our fourth meeting.


    When I got out on that road again, my thoughts were no longer innocent.....

 9

    He appeared straight away, as if he''d been waiting for me, hidden by a bend of the road. I stood with my back to the car and listened to its approach with thrilling curiosity. It exhaled slightly and stopped a few feet away from my feignedly indifferent back. Breathing in the damp evening wind, I stared up into the near blue sky and wondered if he could see me.


    I knew he did. I could feel his gaze. I let it slide over my frozen figure for quite a while. The familiar tingle of incipient warmth enchanted my blood. I turned and approached the glossy blackness of the car windows. Smiling at my reflection, I stared at my lips for some time, realizing with pleasure the depraved swelling that had appeared in them. They beckoned to me, and breathlessly I kissed myself. The door clicked with impatience, wanting to engulf me. But I walked away. Further and further along the wet pavement of the road.


    I was beckoning him, I wanted him to step into my world. I wanted to force him to take the risk. With a greedy jerk, the car slowly followed me. That''s how we moved, stubbornly tempting each other - me in front and the black chrome body of the car behind. And I wasn''t going to give up first. It honked three times, rudely breaking the vibrating silence of those place. But I was relentless. Like all creatures of the heaven, I always knew what cruelty was. And he could not stand it.


    The car squealed its brakes and slammed with the door. I didn''t turn around, tensely aware of his approach. His soft, creeping footsteps. He came very close and froze behind me. I could feel the heat of his breath in my hair, defiantly tied with the band at the back of my head.


    ¡®You''re teasing me, Vic,¡¯ he said. ¡®You''re open to temptation.¡¯


    I shrugged and turned around. I stared into his eyes, shimmering with the glare of madness. It was sweet to realize that I was the reason of it.


    ¡®Why don''t you ever go out, Alistair?¡¯ I asked, staring at his black-clad figure. ¡®Are you afraid? Afraid that the firmament of the sky will scorch your feet?¡¯


    ¡®I''m not afraid of anything, Vic,¡¯ he grinned.


    ¡®You''re lying to me, Alistair,¡¯ I said and flinched when the wind opened his shirt. ¡®I want to be able to lie as well as you....¡¯


    ¡®I''ll teach you that,¡¯ he retorted, pulling me to him by the hand, ¡®but first I''ll teach you how to give me pleasure.¡¯


    I clung to him with an unexpected greed, to the inviting nakedness of his desires. The dangerous desires of a possessed creature of the underworld. His hands slid to my thighs. It was the first time I''d felt his arousal this close to my body. He ripped off the band hiding my hair and ran his hand through it, pressing his lips against mine. Our tongues entwined, and I allowed him scalding possession of my breath.


    ¡®How much do I still not know, Alistair?¡¯ I asked in a whisper as our embraces parted.


    ¡®Something I can give you now,¡¯ he promised, and suddenly knelt down.


    While I stared in surprise at his head bent over my groin, he quickly untied the light braid holding back my ascetic pants, which were devoid of any colour. The state of helpless openness stunned me. I stood as if on the edge of a cliff, watching him as if the abyss were coming. In the next instant he pulled off my jacket, and I remained completely naked. I had never seen myself naked before. Nor had I ever seen myself hard.... Alistair looked up at me and smiled slowly.


    ¡®Shall I tell you what colour your body is in this place,¡¯ he asked, not taking his eyes off my face. ¡®Shall I tell you what it smells like?¡¯


    I shook my head.


    ¡®Alistair, stop it¡­¡¯


    Alistair gripped my waist with his palms and pressed his cheek against my stomach. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt his kiss on my thighs. Light and warm, like the first sip of wine.


    ¡®For an angel, Vic, you''re made too perfect. I want to corrupt your body and your soul. You must learn how much pleasure that perfection can give.¡¯


    I can still remember the shivers that shook me. He drew me into the depths of his revelations and I drowned in them. Drowned without any attempt of salvation...


    ¡®I want to know how pliable your courage is,¡¯ he whispered.


    ¡®Let me go, Alistair,¡¯ I repeated as his lips explored me. ¡®Let me go!¡¯


    But he shook his head in defiance. I felt his embrace grow more greedy, and I cried out when he touched me with his tongue for the first time. I didn''t know what he was going to do to me. My fear was dizzyingly intertwined with the recklessness that compelled me to wait just as greedily. Closing his bottomless, enveloping black eyes, he ran the tip of his tongue along my shamelessly heaving flesh¡­


    His lips... A moist sensual gateway to the realm of dark lust, heavy and warm as dead water in the saltiest of human seas. They say somewhere along there your Savior was born. One who preferred to walk on the surface, but never dived in. Apparently the water was heavier than his light holiness. But I took the risk. I entered that dark overpowering water, into the moaning and thrusting ecstasy. I couldn''t do otherwise, Alistair left me no choice! He drew me further and further, he tempted me, and his hands readily accepted the helpless resistance of my body.


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    I moaned, hoarse and desperate. I realized he was punishing me, but never before had I craved punishment that much. Even now, when my body has known many lips, bold and inexperienced, greedy and fearful, I still replay the first step we took at the same time. I remember the shiver of tentative nakedness and his breath laced with the stupefying sound of the wet slides of his tongue. He did it for a long time, he teased me and I, unable to stand it, made my own step. I wanted to reach his vicious throat, to make him choke on me, to silence his rapturous wheezing. I forced my way into his mouth and pressed his head against my groin. And wished I could die....


    The sensations of incubus, free of the insensitive veil of grossness that dulls the human sense of touch, are much sharper and much more ravishing. Our bodies are but appearances. They are thin garments hiding the bare nerves of the soul. We do look as you see us. But in the wide range of senses assigned to beings from different worlds, there are innumerable colours and shades for us that you will never know. Unless you fall in love with an incubus. We take you to heights that only a light shadow of your body can reach. The one that really knows what touch feels like. Just like your music, which vibrations are so much richer when heard in the naked void of hell. That''s why our love is so dangerous. And that is why you fly so avidly to our pulsing fickle fire. But our tribe is related to the few, and the Fallen are a hundred times more choosy. Because love is a fusion. It is a poison that can poison both.


    Those we choose, we take with us because our blood is in them and they will never know peace on earth. And because we¡¯re jealous. At the moment of love, the worlds touch and it is easy to take that wrong step that will condemn you to eternal pleasure-seeking. Alistair did that to me. He completely claimed me later, but I took that fatal first step. And I made it myself.


    What did I feel? I felt the solidity of the heaven breaking beneath me. I felt my world tearing with a quiet but deafening crack. As I stood with Alistair''s black-haired head pressed against my thighs, I peered into the abyss with avid interest. What I saw there shocked me. I saw an abyss and an immense endless expanse. An expanse where I could fall forever and there would be nothing to stop me. And I knew what pleasure looked like, and I wanted it.


    I remember how eagerly and roughly I took possession of his mouth. I remember his hot fingers sliding down my body and the fierce feeling of impending danger. I let him have it all, frantically striving for the unravelling, the final explosion that was going to destroy my world! I wanted to burn up this stuffy heaven and fall into hell! And I knew that Alistair would be there with me. His love was the one thing I feared to lose.


    But when the heat of my body became unbearable, when my moans turned to a scream, Alistair pulled away from me with a jerk. I saw him smile, cruel and ravenous. He truly looked like a demon now, glowing with the dark fire of the damned, his mouth wet with lust and the unnatural gleam of his mad black eyes. I stood there, shocked and angry. I could see that he realized how much I would have given to touch him again.


    But he didn''t let me. If he had torn off my wings then, he would have lost the power that my doomed desire to be defeated by him gives him now. And so he was only teasing me, tightening my death wish. I was furious. I looked at Alistair. Into his laughing greedy and evil eyes:


    ¡®Come back, Alistair...¡¯


    But he only laughed softly. Slowly rising from his knees, he walked over to the car and leaned against it.


    ¡®Oh no, I won''t satisfy your hunger so quickly,¡¯ he said. ¡®You''ll have to forget your pride. You, naughty little outcast of heaven....¡¯


    With these words he laid his back teasingly on the car and rubbed himself languorously against it. He looked mockingly at me, trembling with lust for the first time in my life. His shirt was open, and I shivered, seeing his flat, tight belly with its tantalizing tubercles of muscle and the dark velvety track that mysteriously lurked beneath his belt. I groaned and wrapped my arms around myself, forcing my fingers painfully into the skin. But neither the intensifying cold around me nor the pain could bring me back to my previous sense of peace. It felt like poison was spreading through my flesh. And I tore at it with a fierce, desperately hoping to drive it away. The fresh scratches were staining with blood, but the desire that was burning me wouldn''t go away.


    Alistair watched my convulsions with visible pleasure. I looked up at him pleadingly, at his mouth smiling with the white rim of his teeth, at the black strands streaming down his naked neck. But he only smiled, still rubbing his back against the dull enamel of the car.


    ¡®Come back, Alistair,¡¯ I whispered, feeling the helpless tears rolling down my cheeks, ¡®help me....¡¯


    ¡®I don''t want to help you, Vic,¡¯ he said, his smile growing wider and more dangerous. ¡®I can only keep you in the darkness longer.¡¯


    He rose nimbly and opened the car door.


    ¡®I''ll come back for you,¡¯ he promised, ¡®I''ll find you everywhere you go...¡¯


    And he got inside.


    ¡®No!¡¯ I shouted, ¡®don''t you go! Don''t you dare to leave now, Alistair!¡¯


    But the door slammed behind him, and the car sped away through the thickening fog. I remained standing there, with nothing to cover my nakedness. I knew that clothes could not hide it, just as the body cannot swallow the trembling soul.


    ¡®Alistair! Alistair!¡¯ I screamed, and it seemed to me that my lungs would burst from that cry. ¡®I beg you, come back!¡¯


    But he was already far away. Though I thought he could hear me, I knew he would not answer. My call gave him a weird, mysterious pleasure. I can feel its echoes now, when the souls I have ruined cry out to me from the depths of hell. But I take my time, savouring this doomed plea for a long time¡­


    It was then that I realized I could not be without Alistair. And if I had to die to go with him, I agreed to it without a second thought.


    I don''t remember how long I trashed about on that cursed road, trying to rid my body of the fever that tormented me. Shivering, I rushed to get dressed, but my clothes burned my skin, and I went insane. Like some possessed being, I rolled along the side, grasping the bare, wet branches of the leaning trees as if they were hands, his hands. I was scraping my skin against the asphalt, begging for his affection, and I couldn''t stop repeating one name. The name of my father in hell.


    I remember that I came to my senses at dawn. All that endlessly long night I could not leave. I waited desperately, hopelessly. The bright stars of the sky stung my eyes, coldly reflecting the appealing fire of his dark pupils. And I gazed into them, feeling pathetic, trembling, crucified on the black pavement of the road. Just like a criminal nailed to the weight of his sins. This is how the morning found me. Blinding me and giving me the strength to tear my body away from that cross.


    The light that burst into the world brought back the feeling of reality. I took it as a bitter but only possible medicine. That morning was a mercy, the last mercy the heaven had given me. With effort I stood up on shaky legs, covered my face with my hands and doomed myself to the sobering cold of the trees. I headed back, but I knew I had done something irreparable. But whatever was waiting for me where I was going, it couldn''t frighten me more than losing Alistair....

 10

    His eyes, damn it, how important his eyes are to me! The bottomless expanse of the abyss of hell. A promise of danger greater than I can endure. His love was all I ever wanted to know.


    And how mad I was at him!


    So mad that I hated him!


    That hatred left bleeding cuts, and I guess that''s exactly what he wanted. To mix love and hate in one cocktail. In one double-edged blade that would be destined to rip my soul.


    Once I''d done that to myself, I couldn''t leave that weapon. A blade sharpened on both sides, absorbing all the cold of heaven and all the flames of hell, became what I bestow upon my victims. It¡¯s what I use to destroy your souls.


    This, Alistair''s second gift, is one of the things I hold most precious. I have learned how to use it. I have realized its beauty, just as Alistair predicted. And I always watch with avid curiosity as those I give it to, over and over allow it to kill themselves. And I wait for the one who realizes he has the power to own it.


    Reflections of that dull steel sometimes flicker in Wolfie''s eyes. Perhaps it is that cold glint that draws me in the most. Maybe that''s why I''m in no hurry. I want to give him a chance.


    And I was furious when he decided to throw himself into the abyss without feeling the painful moment of approaching the edge. He wanted to be fast. And for some reason, I wanted to hold him back. To give him time to feel the blade and drew it from its sheath. Before I strike.


    The second time we met, he was already greedy for death. Like all the others I had before. If not his gaze, I would not have been able to stop. But disappointment is not what I want from him. And so I had to be mean.


    I gave him a week. A week of reflection and painful memories before returning to his call.


    He spent all his evenings at the club where we first met. He waited and drank, a lot, the way one only drinks with a built-up resolve of despair. He learned to make up his eyes and covered his nails with black nail polish like I do. Unseen by him, I watched him stare at himself in the mirror, secluded in the dirty toilet. As he sharpened a soft, crumbling cosmetic pencil with a small knife.


    He breaks the tip of it time after time, but he doesn''t give up. Finally, he leans down close to the smudged surface and ineptly lines his upper eyelid. After a moment''s thought, he leaves the same thick black line on the lower one. His eyes look funny now. One resembles the delicate pristineness of childhood, while the other betrays the secret desires of vice, thickly highlighted in black. He tilts his head to the side and winks to himself. Grinning, he works on the other eye, trying to duplicate the make-up flawlessly. He wants me to like him, he wants to be like me.


    I like it.


    Opening my eyes, I get up from the wrinkled sheets of the recent wild night and stretch my whole body. I feel it''s time. I can sense the teasing sparks spreading beneath my skin. My lover is long gone and I don''t remember his name. He satisfied my lust but failed to interest me. There''s money and an unopened beer bottle on the pillow. Also a promise to come back tonight.


    I smirk and crack open the beer, looking at the worn bills. He doesn''t know that when he returns, I''ll be gone. All that will be left is the slight irritating smell of cigarettes and sheets that have absorbed the sweet sweat.


    This kind of life is the usual for the succession of my births. No home, no family, no pompous luxury. Just other people''s beds, clubs generous with cheap booze, old impeccably tight jeans, and the road....


    An endless black canvas with an otherworldly power over my soul.


    No matter how many times I am born, I always come back to it. I never tire of walking along it, looking at the small cracks in the asphalt and squinting into the bright sun. Tattered sneakers, either old boots or just bare feet scraped by gravel, and the subtle exciting smell of the wind. And of the sky.


    Sometimes I think that road is a greater lover to me than even Alistair. Perhaps it is, who knows? I can just sense it in the irony of his gaze. And because he has long since stopped asking me questions when I once again return. I don''t live on Earth. I hunt and I don''t care about anything. I''m not afraid to die. I''ve slept with death many times....


    A few hurried sips from the bottle suddenly sobered me from vague memories. Putting it aside, I went to the mirror to assess the damage from last night''s drunken oblivion. And, as usual, I was satisfied.


    I don''t get hangovers. I always look better the morning after a night of madness than when I fall asleep sober. A sign of my vampire nature. There was even a slight blush on my flawlessly fresh face. My lips didn''t have the drying crust of a long time kissing, but instead, they turned obscenely scarlet. He''ll like me, I know he will....


    I showered and towelled myself off, brushed my hair back. Touching the silver ring in my nipple for good luck, I pull on a dark blood-red T-shirt with a funny ¡°Don''t look for me, I''m dead...¡± print and go back to the bedroom. Slipping the money into my jeans pocket, I tighten my belt. After thinking for a moment, I pull it out. It''s better this way, this way I''m more vulnerable.


    I take the rings out and adorn my fingers with pleasure. One thin one with an embossed black snake - on my thumb. Two thick, heavy silver twins on the middle of the right and the left hands, and a vulgar VIC signet on the ring finger on my left hand. I love rings. I know how enchanting the delicacy of fingers is in their cold embrace.


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    Smiling contentedly, I light a cigarette and close my eyes, stretching out the last few minutes of my stay in this house. Then I walk out the door and don''t look back again. A strong wind, promising bad weather, ruffles my hair. I shiver, feeling the slight tingle of his breath on my whole body. I love the feeling and don''t button my jacket. There''s still time until evening, and I look for somewhere to eat as my stomach rumbles with hunger.


    Wolfie was waiting for me. He sat on a high chrome bar stool and eyed the crowd. Some new band was about to play, and the club was packed with a motley assortment of young people. Cigarette lights were flickering, and it smelled like spilled beer. I saw him at once, but pretended not to notice.


    I ordered a double screwdriver and looked at the bartender while I waited. A skinny, narrow-shouldered guy who, however, had a knack for handling bottles. I could almost feel the scared stare in one of the moments. I turned around. Wolfie was staring at me from under this teasy bangs of him. Smiling embarrassed, he blinked. He wanted me to recognize him and to come over. He was afraid of it and he wanted it. He was adorable! Flustered, crookedly made-up, he was nervously tapping out some kind of tune with his fingers.


    I grinned. Walking very close, just enough for him to smell me, I headed towards the stage. I knew he would follow me. And so he did. At one point I felt a silky soft strand whip across my face. I turned around and saw him headbanging to the beat of the music. His hair was almost intertwined with mine. Noticing my attention, he moved it away from his face and exhaled, daring to speak.


    ¡®Hi. You''re Vic, I remember.¡¯


    I didn''t answer anything, I was excited by his nearness and wanted to tease him. The greedy nature of the incubus was taking over my thoughts more and more. He was dressed in black, with his shoulders defiantly bare.


    ¡®You saw me,¡¯ he repeated, ¡®I remember...¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ I said. ¡®I liked your lips. Too bad you were too drunk.¡¯


    He froze, staring at me with glittering, darkened eyes.


    ''I''m not drunk now,'' he said, and, embarrassed, added, ''I meant to say I''m not that drunk...''


    I saw the desperate determination and that''s when I got mad. I wanted him badly. He teased my nature. He was practically innocent and provocatively open.


    ¡®Are you burdened by your virginity?¡¯ I gruffly threw out, ¡®lack of experience with boys?¡¯


    He flinched, and I saw his eyes fill with angry tears. He wiped them away, smearing a black pencil line.


    ¡®I thought you were better,¡¯ he said without looking in my direction, ¡®I thought you were different.¡¯


    He backed away hastily and disappeared into the crowd. I sucked in his elusive scent, tasting its flavour. And I couldn''t stand it. I followed. When I caught up with him at the bar, I embraced him from behind.


    ¡®I''m sorry,¡¯ I whispered.


    He turned around, and I saw his lips in annoying proximity. Abruptly pulling away, I headed into the dancing crowd, looking back at him. After hesitating for a second, he followed me, mesmerized by the twinkle in my vampire eyes.


    So we walked, sliding between writhing wet bodies. I savoured the thrill of my growing power. I was leading him, and he no longer doubted. He trusted me. We made our way out of the hall, and after traversing the stuffy corridors, we found ourselves in an empty restroom. The door slammed shut behind him, and I turned around.


    He wanted to step toward me, but he didn''t dare. Then I pulled him to me by his belt and pressed him tightly against my body. He startled, but the next second he was in my arms. I slid my hand under his shirt, delighting in the feel of his heated skin. The shiver of inexperience. I groaned in sharp pleasure and pushed him against the wall, eliciting an answering thrill.


    How madly I wanted to take him! I was almost insane with desire! He breathed rapidly, burning my skin. Pulling his hair, I eagerly kissed him. His lips felt incredibly sweet, and I couldn''t tear myself away from them for a long time. I entwined my tongue with his, forcing him to obey me. Me only.


    When my breath hitched, I released his head and saw his eyes. Clouded with desire, darkened to the depths of onyx, they gleamed for a moment in the light of the lamps. I froze, noticing again the overwhelming phantom of danger. It was as if, clutching in passion, I suddenly ran into a sheath. He was holding something back from me, and I slowly pulled away.


    ¡®Vic!¡¯ he whispered, ¡®I want you....¡¯


    I wanted you too, Wolfie. I wanted you so badly! With all the awakened greed of an incubus! But your mystery sobered me up like a slap in the face. You should not have disappointed me.


    ¡®You''re too hasty, Wolfie,¡¯ I muttered, ¡®you don''t know how dangerous I am.¡¯


    ¡®I don''t care,¡¯ he threw back. ¡®You''ll be my first guy.¡¯


    ''Yes,'' I replied, ''but not right now...''


    ¡®Later I might change my mind.¡¯


    And he clung to me on his own. He kissed my neck, and then he grabbed my hands and put them on his hips. I ran my fingers into the cuts of his jeans and saw him bite his lip, feeling the cold touch of the silver rings. I clamped my eyes shut.


    ¡®You have to have a chance,¡¯ I whispered.


    I knew he didn''t understand what I meant. Resting his head against my chest, he replied:


    ¡®I''ve had girlfriends, I know what that is. But I never thought I''d want another guy this bad. Don''t you f*ck worry about me!¡¯


    ¡®Don''t tempt me, Wolfie,¡¯ I said, holding back the lust that was mounting again. ¡®I can take you farther than you think.¡¯


    He lifted his face and looked me closely in the eyes.


    ¡®I don''t care, Vic, I don''t care what you are. I...¡¯


    I swiftly clamped my palm over his mouth. Painfully squeezing his half-open lips, I didn''t let the words that could have been fatal escape.


    ¡®If you say that, I''ll leave you. Forever.¡¯


    I slowly removed my hand. He was silent, breathing shortly. I gently shoved him aside and walked resolutely out of the toilet. I walked through the club without looking back, and it was only in the street that I let myself loose. In a rage, I lunged at the hobbled trash can and kicked it fiercely, scattering its contents all over the street.


    Empty beer cans, scraps of newspaper, and used condoms - all the things that lavishly fill ordinary human souls. The garbage that makes up most of you. The trash that this boy could have become if I had gotten him then. He didn''t realize it. He was left standing on the dirty floor surrounded by the splattered walls. He was crying. I knew it, but I couldn''t make myself go back.


    I wait for something from him. It''s possible, though, that he''s deceiving me. And if he is, I will be ruthless. He''ll go through all the filth of hell. He''ll soak it up until he''s as old and ugly as a drunken moralist. Then Saint Ferno will cast him out. He will wander long beyond its indifferent walls, waiting. Calling for me. And then he will disappear. Like so many before him. And I won''t care where.


    I will forget him and will forget the faint gleam of the blade in his eyes. That will be your fate, Wolfie, and that is what I have protected you from so far. On a strange whim, awakened by your eyes.

 11

    Having vented my anger, I went on a hunt. Just a hunt, just to quell my hunger. I was leaving with company, and I was about to experience another stranger''s bed. Again. And that night, lust wasn''t enough. I wanted to kill him.


    Tall, handsome, too grown up to hook up with some like me.


    For long, burning with lust, I let him torment me, savouring my lips and the disturbing sweetness of my young skin. I was the poison he drank willingly.


    ''You''re driving me crazy, Vic,'' he repeated, ''you''re driving me crazy...''


    I smiled and reached for another cigarette with my vicious mouth, interrupting the torturous batch of caresses. Once I''d had my fill, I asked him the usual question. A question he probably didn''t need to answer anymore.


    ¡®Do you want to know what the real fall is?¡¯


    Closing my eyes, I heard the answer before it rolled off his tongue. I''ve heard it many times.


    ¡®Yeah, boy, I want you ...¡¯


    Pausing, I looked once more into his eyes, sore from the sleepless night. He recoiled. He began to realize. By my gaze, where the hellfire was already burning unconcealed. By the mocking expression on my face. With a smirk, I pushed him down. Into the abyss.


    I did not even accompany him, letting him make the journey alone. I knew that he would not get lost, would not pass the gates of Saint Ferno. I heard his last desperate cry.


    As I lit a cigarette, I touched his body. What was left of him was but a pitiful shell, devoid of a soul. He groaned and covered his eyes with his hands.


    I watched him for a while, then put out the cigarette butt and began to dress. I rarely took men like him. It was just a burst of aroused anger. I didn''t care about him.


    ¡®Don''t go,¡¯ he moaned, ¡®don''t go!¡¯


    I knew he was scared. He didn''t yet understand what he''d lost, but he was scared of a frightening sense of emptiness. I knew what awaited him - a long desperate wandering around the earth looking for himself, remembering me and fading away.


    Then he would die. After perhaps many more years. And his soul, clad in fine, sensual flesh, will be tormented by incubuses and other evil things until he becomes one of the city''s annoying ghosts. And I was beginning to forget about him. I was calm now.


    Does his fate frighten you? Do you want to know what awaits you in Saint Ferno if ever the love of an incubus takes you there? How amusing is humanity''s desire to know its future. You can''t resist the unknown, and that''s your greatest weakness. It''s ironic. Your insecurity had bred all your most fearful evil. You''ve opened so many doors for us. And you did it yourself.


    But I¡¯ll tell you the details. I can lie, though. Alistair taught me that. But you won''t know the fine line between the truth and the Fallen One''s devious charms, so don''t try. Just trust the venom of my words.


    You''ll like it there. Hell always has cheap booze and drugs. Affordable whores will desire your love. The rock stars who died for you give concerts here every night and the night never ends. A drunken night full of vice and moans of pleasure. If you learn not to want more, you will love this place. If you learn to take but not to be satiated, Saint Ferno will reveal all its charms.


    And you''ll have to forget. Forget who you were before. To accept the dark side as the only one. Because if you start remembering, you''ll get tired. And when you''re tired, you''ll know longing. You will move from one underworld place to another and seek. And your memory will seek you out.


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    Well, that''s unlikely to come that far. You always, always, absolutely always get satiated. You always, always start wanting more. And then hell becomes hell for you. What you expect it to be. Misery, suffering, doubt. The longing to return. To a source that doesn''t exist. To a faded picture of your previous existence, to ¨C please forgive me my laugh ¨CTHE paradise you make of it.


    Is there a way back to whatever you think it is? Probably. There are thousands of roads, woven together like a tangle of snakes. But not one of them is marked. And people can''t enjoy falling into the unknown. Most stay here in Saint Ferno, preferring to be a ghost in a world they know.


    Not a bad choice, however. Within its walls is the realm of the sweetest whores in hell. Here one comes in search of fun and love, oblivion and the cruelty of a continuous night.


    I remember one evening Alistair took me into the city. We wandered its tangled streets for a long time, enjoying its chaos. We had recently made love and now we were just strolling without purpose, our hands occasionally touching.


    I asked him the first question that came to mind.


    ¡®Why Saint Ferno? What¡¯s about this name?¡¯


    He smiled, sat down on the pavement, and drew me to him. I was ready to listen.


    ¡®This city is named after Ferno, Saint Ferno, who founded it. As you might guess, he was a Fallen. A mere incubus creates nothing. They only have fun and drink without measure.¡¯


    ¡®I know,¡¯ I grinned, as I had become more than intimate with many of them by then.


    ¡®So, and Ferno was a Fallen. The very first Fallen in Hell, they say. His lover was the Devil himself. He saw this angel standing at the altar in one of the temples of heaven. They say he was extremely gorgeous. Almost as gorgeous as you,¡¯ Alistair kissed me and continued. ¡®Our proud overlord went crazy. He thrashed about in the underworld, and the demons fled away in terror. Then, for the first time in a long time, he dared to go up. They had but a moment before the gates closed. And that was enough. This shameless child of heights stepped into his arms, himself. You could say they both seduced each other.


    Ferno was insane. No less insane than the Devil himself. Their passion was devastating even for hell. Torn between love and hate, they burned half of the abyss, turning it into a desert. To save what was left, Ferno decided to stop. He chose this place and founded a city. A whole city of fun for himself and his lover. He chose the most beautiful of the incubuses and settled them here. Many born afterward were his children. They do not have the twist of the Fallen, but they have his blood in them. They will never know peace or grow old. Ferno arranged every damn thing to his liking, and it was him, who begun to bring humans. Eager for new experiences, he started drinking souls. Believe me, there was no one who could say no to him. Some can refuse me, some can even refuse you ¨C if they¡¯re strong enough. But there was no one who could refuse Saint Freno. He was incredibly beautiful and incredibly powerful.¡¯


    ¡®What happened to him?¡¯ I asked after a moment, breathless.


    Alistair shrugged in a grunt.


    ¡®He left. One day he abandoned his lord''s bed and left. No one knows why or where. Even the Devil doesn''t know which road Ferno took. The Overlord never appeared in Saint Ferno again either. He had ordered all reminders of his lover destroyed, but his city had never been encroached upon. Perhaps he''s still waiting for Ferno to show up. From time to time, rumours fly that one or another Wanderer has met him. To touch the hem of his clothes is considered great fortune. And so, even though this city is already too small for everyone here, no one wants to change anything. If even a stone is moved here, the lustre of this place will fade. Loving the Fallen is a curse. You never know what to expect. One moment you''re here, the next only Ferno knows where. But I''m not about to let you go. You hear me?¡¯ he shook me by the shoulder, bringing me back to reality. ¡®I will find you wherever you go.¡¯


    ¡®I got it, Alistair,¡¯ I said, biting the filter of my cigarette in thought. ¡®I''m not going to leave, I love you, you know.¡¯


    ¡®Ferno used to love too.¡¯


    ¡®Listen,¡¯ I poked him in the side, ¡®haven''t any of the images remained? I don''t believe the Devil destroyed everything.¡¯


    Alistair grimaced. I kissed his palm pleadingly and ran my hand under his belt. He arched up and closed his eyes.


    ¡®There''s a place,¡¯ he gritted, ¡®Ferno''s last gift to this city. He built a sort of temple in his own honour. A mockery of himself and his lord. It''s usually empty. The Devil, out of jealousy, forbade anyone to go there. But that ban has already become outdated...¡¯


    ¡®Will you show me?¡¯ I leaned over his knee, unbuttoning his jeans.


    ¡®Maybe. I was there once...¡¯


    ¡®So my father in hell is a criminal? It turns me on¡­¡¯


    I was really burning with desire, so I forgot about this mysterious dark saint for a while...

 12

    A while later, we were making our way through the dark, half-empty streets. I wasn''t sure Alistair would lead me. He walked without much eagerness and was gloomy, despite the pleasure he''d just had. But I had no choice but to trust him.


    There was less and less light around. Along the narrow road were sorrowful statues, strange for this city. None of them showed naked flesh. As I looked closer, I noticed that they all had the same face, hidden by a deep, marble hood. And each face had a different expression, as if the whole grim row was a set of frozen grimaces. Only the eyes seemed unchanged. They stared into the void with an overwhelming detachment.


    ¡®What is it, Alistair?¡¯ I asked, shuddering.


    ¡®The faces of the Seekers,¡¯ he said grudgingly. ¡®It was Ferno''s way of seeing his soul. He was obsessed with roads.¡¯


    ¡®It scares me, Alistair.¡¯


    ¡®Why so?¡¯ he commented. ¡®Who better to appreciate them than you.¡¯


    I still don''t know why he took me to the temple. I felt he didn''t want to. But he didn''t stop until we came to a lonely white building. Its roof was missing in many places, or it had never been finished.


    ¡®This is the temple,¡¯ Alistair waved his hand and stopped.


    I stared at the small, ascetic house. A white cube with rows of columns. I liked it more and more with each passing second. Perhaps because it had a smell familiar from some other life.


    The smell of heaven.


    ¡®Aren''t you coming?¡¯ I asked.


    ¡®I''ve already been there,¡¯ Alistair said.


    ¡®Come on, let''s go!¡¯ I tugged his arm.


    The door was unlocked. It opened easily. It was scrawled with many inscriptions, the meaning of which could no longer be seen because of the passage of time. I remembered only one of them. It was very recent. In dark blue marker.


    There is no difference between flying and falling.


    It kept running through my head for a long time afterwards, and I savoured it like a gourmet drink. Later it became something of a personal motto. A key to my memory. Each time I incarnated, I always remembered it. And I was always plagued by the mystery of who had wrote it. In my heart, I wanted to meet him. I don''t know why.


    ¡®Go on,¡¯ Alistair pushed me roughly inside.


    I flew halfway down the dark, empty hall and froze. I froze in front of the painting that adorned the entire wall.


    ¡®This is Saint Ferno,¡¯ Alistair said, coming up behind me. ¡®I told you you were just as beautiful.¡¯


    I remained silent, stunned, staring at the painting. Or rather, who it depicted.


    He was a young boy, perhaps even younger than I was. Slender and graceful, he nevertheless exuded incredible power. It permeated his entire appearance, and I trembled at the touch of it.


    Ferno was indeed beautiful. Very beautiful. A face the colour of honey, accentuated by the blackness of his clothes, chiselled, unusually expressive. The face of a child, but there was nothing childlike about it. Deeply vicious and cruel, it shocked like a knife thrust. The sharp cheekbones, the fine nose, and the infinite contempt of the mockingly curved lips.


    His lips were perhaps a little pale for an incubus. But that might have been done on purpose, to emphasize the unbearable blackness of his eyes, which looked incredibly vulgar against the blond hair that swept over his shoulders. Their weave resembled a strange parody of a halo. Slender as a reed, Ferno froze in one pose - as if he were about to take a step, but hesitated, wondering if he should stay where he was.


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    This barely perceptible movement looked so natural that one felt the urge to rush forward to pick him up. Because if he took a step, he would surely fall. Or maybe he wasn''t going to step at all. Maybe he was preparing to fly.


    When I got over the first impression, I realized that behind his back large narrow wings were painted. Their span took up the rest of the wall. And the wings were black.


    ¡®The greatest lecher of our kind,¡¯ Alistair said harshly, breaking me from my contemplation, ¡®and the most insane of the Fallen.¡¯


    Suddenly I realized something


    ¡®Of our kind, you said¡­  Ferno is your father, right?¡¯


    ¡®You''re right, my dear boy. I am one of Ferno''s direct offspring. If I wasn''t, how do you think I would have found my way to heaven? Followed your trail?¡¯


    ¡®You followed my trail?¡¯


    Alistair smirked.


    I remained silent, looking at the painting again. Saint Ferno was staring at me with condescending eyes. I shuddered as I imagined the power this Fallen One possessed. His feverish charm was captivating even through the image.


    ¡®Don''t look at him too long,¡¯ Alistair whispered. ¡®He''ll poison you.¡¯


    ¡®I don''t think so,¡¯ I grinned. ¡®He looks like a whore. And those painted wings are pathetic, not majestic.¡¯


    ¡®He did have wings,¡¯ Alistair said quietly.


    I turned to him in a daze.


    ¡®He had wings?¡¯


    I couldn''t believe what I was hearing! No one in Hell had wings. At least not that I''ve ever seen.


    ¡®Yes. He was as great in heaven as he is here. He was born with wings. After the fall, he dyed them black and shortened some of the feathers. So they wouldn''t get in the way of his delights,¡¯ Alistair added after a moment''s thought.


    ¡®And did he fly?¡¯


    ¡®No. No one remembers him ever wanting to take to the air. He had them folded back and opened them only for the amusement of his lovers.¡¯


    ¡®Than maybe he just returned to the heaven? Just flew?¡¯


    ¡®The way back is forever denied to the Fallen.¡¯


    ¡®But you were there!¡¯


    ¡®I''m not a Fallen. And I''ve always taken risks.¡¯


    ¡®Have you?¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ Alistair nodded, ¡®every time could have been the last for both of us.¡¯


    I looked into his eyes with the passion of a first-time lover and saw he wasn''t lying. Kissing his shoulder, I knelt down in front of him.


    ¡®Let''s do it here?¡¯ I asked. ¡®In front of your father''s holy face. I want to get laid by my father in hell in front of my hell¡¯s grandpa!¡¯


    I was aroused to the point of trembling in my groin, so much so that this immoral thought took hold of my mind. Not even the painful slap Alistair had given me could cool it. I clung to him and pushed him to the floor. We were entwined in the void of this strange temple, eager moans echoing through the long-stagnant silence.


    In passing, fulfilling one or another of Alistair''s whims, I caught a glimpse of Ferno''s insane face and grinned at him. And it seemed to me that he was smirking voluptuously back. But his eyes did not look interested. They didn''t even look satiated. They just stared.


    Afterward, we sat on the warm floor slabs, surrounded by the shapeless piles of our own clothes, thinking every one of our own thoughts. I looked at the wings of the first Fallen with fascination and wondered what it would be like to make love with such a miracle on my back. Personally, I would try them out in flight. I was again reminded of the strange phrase on the temple door.


    There is no difference between flying and falling.


    Who wrote that? Not long ago. I thought I could even feel the echoes of his breath.


    ¡®The artist who painted it was a genius,¡¯ I concluded and stood up to get dressed.


    ¡®He painted himself,¡¯ Alistair said with a sneer, ¡®shortly before he left. He locked himself in here alone and didn''t come out until he was done. All the Fallen are drawn to look at his perfection sooner or later. Most of the writing on the walls and the door belongs to them. There''s not many, though. Nothing''s changed since the last time I was here. And that was a long time ago.¡¯


    I held my breath. Fresh writing in blue marker! A Fallen had been here! Recently! I had never seen one of my own kind before and so it was easy to understand my excitement. I almost told Alistair about the inscription, but something stopped me.


    When we left the temple a few minutes later, I lingered at the door. Taking out the bright cherry coloured lipstick I liked to use when we went out for fun, I hastily captioned next to it:


    But the void is filled with the feathers of birds...


    Although Ferno made a twofold, very mixed impression on me, I was drawn more than once afterward to sneak back into that darkened temple. To gaze at his mad face again and again with a feeling close to awe. Which I did often. In secret from Alistair.


    I don''t know whether Alistair was aware of these visits, at least he never told me. Nor did he tell me how he felt about my perverse desire to make love in front of this painting. With others. I had taken many there and each time the impression was that I was not f*cking, but floating in the bottomless darkness of the saint''s eyes.

 13

    However, I have gotten a little distracted from the story of my own fall.


    Before I knew all this and more, I had to make an incredibly painful and shocking journey. A journey that all of the Fallen had made.... A one-way ride.


    Everything that followed our fourth date (if I may call it so) had happened so fast. And the faster it seemed to be coming, the more I wanted to put it off.


    I really wanted the time stop.


    I was angry. I was shaking with hatred and fear. I do not remember who poisoned my soul with these feelings. They were tearing me apart without mercy, making my awakened love bleed. If not the love which was burning me down, I would never have come out on this road again.


    But I couldn''t, I couldn''t just disappear. I wanted to feel Alistair''s eyes on me just once more, just once more to see the blackness of his hair. If not touch than at least shamelessly watch it for once more¡­ Let it be in the flood of harsh unmasking words I wanted to throw in his face. To throw my pain at his feet and leave.


    Leave forever. To stay in the cold and clear vastness of the heaven. That''s what I decided. A naive, cruel creature of the emptiness¡­


    Stirring the rage flaming in my soul, filled with almost sincere remorse, I flew out on the black indifferent ribbon of this road. I did not wait. Pulling off the jacket he had given me, unable to see or hear anything through my own fury and the wind, I headed for Alistair. Toward where he usually came from.


    I felt strong, powerful, and scary. I felt like my eyes were radiating fire. Sparks were flying from me, thousands of fiery trails were scattering off my feet. I was almost flying and the wind tangled subtly in my dishevelled hair.


    Finally, I saw his car. And him. Alistair was standing on the road, leaning against the car''s hood as he had the last time, watching me closely. He moved toward me, and our gazes clashed. Not touched, like palms caressing each other, but clashed as two blades might clash in the heat of battle. The roiling darkness in his eyes and the twinkling sparks of the heaven in mine. And I held his gaze. But he did not avert his. We froze against each other in a ringing tension-filled pause.


    He wasn''t smiling, and I couldn''t read anything on his face. Except that he was devilishly beautiful. As beautiful as I myself must have been at that moment. He was still wearing the same black shirt, its light fabric torn loosely by the wind of the heavens, and tight black pants with defiantly bare lacing.


    I threw the jacket at his feet. Then, I don''t know how, my hand rose up and I slapped him on the face. He watched mesmerized for a second as my palm made a smooth, quick sweep, escaping¡­ Then he sharply grabbed my wrist. He wrenched it, and I felt the pain. He shook his head.


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    ¡®I hate you, Alistair,¡¯ I hissed. ¡®Now you''re going to get the hell out of here and I won''t follow you. I''m leaving you, Alistair! Because you¡¯re evil and you lie to me, lie about everything! And there is no such wind in your city!¡¯ I spit in his face.


    He slowly let go of my hand and wiped himself with the sleeve of his shirt. Then he raised his head and I saw that he was smiling.


    ¡®You''re a brave boy, Vic,¡¯ he said in a low voice, so that I could hardly catch the meaning of his words over the howl of the wind. ¡®But how do you know the difference between good and evil?¡¯


    He looked at me, and I could feel how vicious and greedy his thoughts were at that moment. He was probing my body with his eyes, making me tremble with rage and helplessness. But at the same time, I was aware of how much power I had over him. He wasn''t about to hide it, though. He was frantic to get me. To get me now, when I was so desperate.


    I slacked off returning the stare with defiance. I know I was beautiful then. Refined and stubborn, cheeks flaming and lips open, ready to spit out another angry word. The half-naked embodiment of heaven''s wrath. Almost an icon...


    ¡®I''m leaving you, Alistair,¡¯ I repeated. ¡®Though we never belonged together. Someday I''ll be rid of the venom you poisoned me with. Someday I will know peace again. I will walk against the wind for centuries! Once it will clean me entirely! It''s better to suffer than to be cursed! I will not hesitate to kill myself to banish your foul image. To wipe it off as one wipes off a grease stain! Even if it''s a stain from the sweetest of pies! That¡¯s what you are, Alistair, the stain!¡¯


    Alistair stood straight as I spoke, or rather threw those words in his face.


    ¡®I hear you, Vic,¡¯ he said, at last, ¡®and I''m embarrassed. But you''re wrong about one thing - you will never forget me. Never. Not even if your praised wind blows all the young and tempting flesh off your bones. And death will not save you, if only because you are immortal. It is fear that speaks in you, another one''s fear. He''s your most passionate lover yet. I''m jealous, Vic. I''m very jealous.¡¯


    In one elusive movement, he drew me to him. Weaving my hands behind my back, he kissed me deeply and roughly. I growled and fought him. I was kicking him, but he pressed me against the car with his whole body and didn''t let go until I was finally exhausted and quiet.


    ¡®I''d do anything to get in the way of your pathetic lover,¡¯ he whispered into my face. ¡®He''s not worthy of owning you. You are too young for his aged arms. He smells of the smoke of burnt victims. His hands are as dry as the branches of an old tree, and they have long forgotten how to give pleasure. His lips are wrinkled with countless words of admonishment. But guess what - that''s all he knows. He is a master at making them up, but he himself has not walked a single road yet. The one he''s found, by sheer luck, has led him here. And he fears anything that might disturb his eternal aging. You, on the other hand, smell of wind. Greedy blood. Oh, you won''t forget me, Vic! Only I can make you moan. Moan so sweet, the heaven will shudder to hear how much pleasure there is in those moans....¡¯


    He squeezed my trembling back and kissed me again. Demanding and tender. I moaned. And screamed in anger, knowing that he had me under his power again, again, if only for a moment. Breaking free, I threw myself away like a lunatic. I turned around only for a moment to shout at him:


    ¡®I don''t need you!¡¯


    and also to capture his image in my mind. Glowing with the dark light of hell, the image of a demon calling me¡­


    That was the fifth time we met. And I did not yet know how fast time could pass, driven by the wrathful shepherds of virtue.