''Come inside," I said. And into the shadowy entranceway we stepped together. Vincenzo, never very far off, took his leave.
I bent to kiss Amadeo, and the heat of his body inflamed me.
"Master, give me the Blood," he whispered in my ear. "Master, tell me what you are. "
"What I am, child? Sometimes I think I know not. And sometimes I think I know only too well. Study in my absence. Waste nothing. And I'll be back to you before you know the hour. And then we'll speak of Blood Kisses and secrets and meantime tell no one that you belong to me. "
"Have I ever told anyone, Master?" he responded. He kissed my cheek. He placed his warm hand on my cheek as if he would know how inhuman I was.
I closed my lips over his. I let a small stream of blood pour into him. I felt him shudder.
I drew back from him. He was limp in my arms.
I called for Vincenzo and I gave Amadeo over to him, and off I went into the night.
I left the splendid city of Venice with her glistering palaces, and I withdrew to the chilly mountain sanctuary, and I knew that the fate of Amadeo was sealed.
Chapter 20
20
HOW LONG I WAS with Those Who Must Be Kept, I don't know. A week, perhaps more, I came into the shrine, confessing my astonishment that I had confided the mere phrase "Those Who Must Be Kept" to a mortal boy. I confided again that I wanted him, I wanted him to share my loneliness. I wanted him to share all that I could teach and give.
Oh, the pain of it! All that I could teach and give!
What was this to the Immortal Parents? Nothing. And as I trimmed the wicks of the lamps, as I filled them with oil, as I let the light grow bright around the eternally silent Egyptian figures, I knew the same penance I had always known.
Twice with a gust of the Fire Gift, I lighted the long bank of one hundred tall candles. Twice I let it burn down.
But as I prayed, as I dreamt, one clear conclusion did come to me. I wanted this mortal companion precisely because I had put myself into the mortal world.
Had I never stepped into Botticelli's workshop this mad loneliness would not have come over me. It was mixed up with my love of all the arts, but most particularly painting, and my desire to be close to those mortals who nourished themselves gracefully upon the creations of this period as I fed upon blood.
I also confessed that my education of Amadeo was almost complete.
On waking I listened with the powerful Mind Gift to the movements and thoughts of Amadeo who was no more than a few hundred miles away. He was obedient to my instructions. In the night hours he kept to his books, and did not go to Bianca. Indeed he kept to my bedchamber, for he no longer knew simple camaraderie with the other boys.
What could I give this child that would prompt him to leave me?
What could I give him to more purely train him to be the companion I wanted with all my soul?
Both questions tormented me.
At last a plan came to me¡ªone last trial must be passed by him, and should he fail it, I would commit him with irresistible wealth and position to the mortal world. How that might be done, I did not know, but it did not strike me as a difficult thing.
I meant to reveal to him the manner in which I fed.
Of course this was a lie, this question of a trial; for once he had beheld me in the act of feeding, in the act of murder, how then could he pass unscathed into a productive mortality, no matter how great his education, his refinements and his wealth?
No sooner had I put that question to myself than I remembered my exquisite Bianca, who remained quite steadily at the helm of her ship in spite of the poisonous cups she had passed.
All this, evil and cunning, made up the substance of my prayers. Was I asking permission of Akasha and Enkil to make this child a blood drinker? Was I asking permission to admit Amadeo to the secrets of this ancient and unchangeable shrine?
If I did ask, there came no answer.
Akasha gave me only her effortless serenity, and Enkil his majesty. The only sound came from my movements as I rose from my knees, as I laid my kisses at the feet of Akasha, as I withdrew and closed behind me the immense door, and bolted it shut.
There was wind and snow in the mountains on that evening. It was bitter and white and pure.