Sadness & Simple Grace
By Bette Bourgeois (rbourgeo@cycor.ca)

It features major spoilers for TVL.    

WARNING:  This story is rated NC-17 for m/m relationships and explicit
sexual content.  Do not read if you are under 18 or offended by explicitly depicted sexual situations between members of the same sex.
........................................................................

This story is dedicated to Isilwath, Keeper of the Moon's Shadow
(and other strange and insubstantial things like a certain ghost lover's heart) for the Inspiration of her Wonderful Specs which led me directly down the path to this gondola (following in torch's footsteps) and for her constant encouragement, assistance, and friendship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marius needed another apprentice.  Vittorio was just getting too old, to
hard to handle, he would have to be dismissed.  He would have to find him
a place on a farm or in a business in the city, some work his simple mind
could handle that would be more suitable to his mature physique and
temperament.  Vittorioıs mind was still as simple as the day Marius had
brought him home from the orphanage, but he had grown so big as the years
passed that he was having trouble fitting in with the younger
apprentices.  He was feeling out of place among the little boys.  It
really wasnıt a suitable arrangement at all.  He would have to go.

Apprentices werenıt really what the boys were at all.  They never really
learned much in the way of art from him.  But they were useful for
painting large areas of simple colour combinations.  Some of them could
learn a bit more than that.  Occasionally, quite by accident, he would
find himself a real apprentice among them who could be trusted to follow
more detailed instructions, work on more detailed parts of a work.  Most
often Marius just looked for boys who had simple uncorrupted minds who
would be happy passing the days mixing colours and preparing the walls for
his work.  These boys were so happy to have a place to work and live and
play where they were treated gently and fed well, that they were grateful
and obedient to the Masterıs every wish.  And compared to the places they
had come from, the Masterıs wishes were very few and easily followed; do
your work without complaint, get along with the other apprentices, donıt
get into trouble, and donıt ask questions about things that donıt concern
you.

Marius was very careful about choosing the boys who became his
apprentices.  They were uniformly boys old enough to look after
themselves, and none had any family that cared to come looking for them. 
Marius found them in orphanages and workhouses and monasteries and
brothels and desperate families with too many mouths to feed looking for a
way to lessen the load just short of selling their children into slavery. 
Marius always made sure a sufficient amount of gold changed hands so that
there were never any questions asked.  Most important of all, they were
all innocents; simple minds uncorrupted by the worldıs evils, trusting,
accepting, with no desire to question the pleasant change in their worldly
circumstances.  Any who were not so, were not chosen, and any who changed,
were dismissed.  Marius got the help he needed, the boys got a better
life.  He trained them to work hard and when the time came he tried to
find them a place where they would be appreciated.  It was sometimes hard,
but Marius felt that it was important for him to do this.  They made the
life he led in this city possible, and that must be rewarded, whether they
realized the importance of their contributions or not.

Now, the problem of the new apprentice.  Marius had had no luck at the
orphanage.  The children were either all too young to be of any use, or
had already been corrupted by the places they had come from.  Yes, it was
extremely rare these days to find a boy past the age of ten who hadnıt
already been seduced by criminality.  Most had found it easier to survive
in a desperate life by lying, stealing or worse.  Tonight he would visit
one of the brothels in the district that drew slave traders from the north
and the east.  One of his contacts had told him that a certain
establishment had had a new shipment of boys come in very recently.  There
might be a boy there, who had not been too damaged yet by the brothel
life, who might be suitable.  He would go and see.  If not, tomorrow night
he would have to look further afield.


...........................................................................................................................................................


Gold coins passed from Mariusı gloved hand into the hand of the man in the
arched doorway, and Marius was ushered into the darkened hallway.  There
were torches lit all along the corridor and he followed the man to a great
archway to his right.  A pair of wooden doors, very thick, with metal
reinforcements, were open upon a sumptuous banquet room filled with the
figures of men and young boys moving in and out of shadows and
candlelight.  The men were mostly well dressed, moneyed, lounging in
attitudes of boredom, or erotic interest, or laughing uproariously with
drink and pleasure.  There was plenty of food and drink on the low
tables.  And plenty of lithesome young boys in various states of dress, or
undress,  serving, dancing, lounging, disrobing, and generally
entertaining the assembled patrons.

The proprietor came forward, a  pale emaciated man in a heavy black robe
so plain and unadorned, Marius could have sworn he was a vampire.  A
suitable costume, thought Marius, for one who drained more than just blood
from his victims.  This one took more than their lives.  He took their
souls as well.

He took Marius by the arm and gestured to the room, to the dancing boys,
lithesome and seductive as they swayed in the candlelight.  He made it
plain to Marius that he could have his choice of any in the room.  He had
sized up Mariusı clothing, the rich velvet, the fine leather of his gloves
and boots. The man from the door had already pressed the gold that Marius
had given him into the hand of the proprietor.  Marius shook his head and
made it clear he had no wish to join the crowd of men in the room.  The
proprietor gestured to the doorway and led Marius down the torchlit
corridor to another elaborately decorated room, smaller, but furnished in
much the same way, comfortable and well stocked with food and drink. 
Marius shook his head again.  He held out a palmful of gold that made the
proprietorıs eyes gleam.  The man clasped both his hands together before
him with greed, and then thinking better of the gesture, clasped them
behind himself instead.  Mariusı right hand laid more coins across the
palm of his left and the proprietor closed his eyes for a moment.  He was
in a quandry, Marius knew.  The boys in that room had been making him a
fortune.  He did not want to part with any of them.  But that was a lot of
gold sitting there on Mariusı hand.

The proprietor shook his head most reluctantly and gestured again to the
room in which they stood.  He held up two fingers, and then after a pause,
three.  Marius shook his head.  The man from the door stepped quickly
forward, he had been lurking in the shadows just outside the doorway,
watching the exchange, becoming more agitated by the minute.  Finally,
unable to contain himself any longer, he slid to the side of the
proprietor almost silently and whispered a few words in his ear.  The
proprietor shook his head and cursed the doorman.  The doorman whispered
something else and finally the proprietor glanced at Marius.  

Marius could read their thoughts quite easily.  There was a boy, a boy who
wouldnıt obey, who was stubborn, who was being punished.  They wouldnıt
mind getting rid of him.  He wouldnıt dance, he wouldnıt please the
customers.  Yes, if they could get some of that palmful of gold for that
one, they would have done a good nightıs business.

Marius closed his palm on the gold in his hand, and this galvanized them
into action.  The proprietor barked a command at the doorman, who rushed
from the room.  The proprietor nodded genially at Marius and gestured that
they should follow.  He grasped Marius by one elbow as if to guide him,
but Marius did not move and the man was forced to stop abruptly.  Marius
looked into the eyes of the proprietor, and then down at the manıs hand on
his arm.  The proprietorıs eyes widened suddenly in fear and immediately
removed his hand.  He bowed, and bowed again, gestured towards the
doorway, and then silently, as before, led the way out of the room and
down the dark corridor.  

It got darker and darker the further along it they went.  The torches were
not spaced as closely together here and the odors of sweat, urine and
feces grew, as did the smell of stale drink and rotting vegetables. 
Obviously, the guests were not usually brought into this area of the
building.  The corridor suddenly ended in another corridor branching off
to the left and right.  They moved to the left and the stench grew.  The
proprietor grimaced and bowed again and finally stopped outside the open
door of a dark little cell with no window.  The doorman was already there
and held a large key with which the door had obviously been locked.  He
handed a candle to the proprietor, who passed it on to Marius.

Marius approached the door slowly, wondering what he would find inside
this dark little dungeon.  A boy, that much was obvious.  He had heard the
heart beating from halfway down the corridor.  The boy was asleep, and his
mind was full of whispered words and strange laughter that tormented his
restless dreams.

Marius raised the candle above his head and stepped into the room.  The
smell in there was atrocious.  He wondered how long this poor boy had been
locked in there.  He wondered when he had last been fed.  He wondered what
he had done to deserve such punishment, and decided it probably wasnıt
anything more than disobedience.  Disobedience in a brothel was the
greatest sin.  He saw nothing in the small bare room but an uneven shadow
in one corner.  He moved towards the shadow and the candle shone on flesh,
picking out the form of a naked boy, curled in the corner like a babe in
his motherıs womb.  He looked just that vulnerable.  He looked just that
innocent.

Marius knelt beside the naked form, slim and shivering slightly despite
being asleep.  He whispered a few words to the boy and felt him waken
suddenly, clutching his bare arms around his drawn-up knees, flinching
away.  He drew himself further into the shadows of the corner of the
room.  Pain screamed from the mind of the young one.  Pain and fear rolled
out of him in waves.  Marius could see marks on the boyıs flesh from
beatings.  He could hear the unsteady breathing and feel the empty knawing
hunger grinding in the boyıs belly.  An anger was growing in Marius, but
he held it in check.  He would take this boy out of here, one way or
another.  And if he could not be saved, he would take his life and give
him the peace he deserved.  He didnıt like to do it that way.  He did not
like to take the life of innocents.  But this poor child deserved better
than this, this unendurable pain.  He would ease it, one way or another.

Marius rose and strode to the doorway.  He brought forward his left hand
and opened it, holding it out to the proprietor.  The proprietor held out
his hand and Marius dropped half of the coins slowly into the proprietorıs
outstretched palm.  He weighed the remainder slowly in his open palm, then
closed his hand on them and barked out a command.  He turned and retreated
back down the corridor the way they had come and did not stop until he had
returned to the small private chamber they had left only minutes ago.  Had
it been only minutes?  Marius felt that it had been much longer, much too
long.  He let out his breath, only realizing at that moment that he had
been holding it.  He listened to the proprietor issuing commands to the
doorman and the doorman rushing off, calling forth another servant, and
the two of them going into the cell and dragging the struggling, crying
boy from the room.  The boy was dragged further into darkness down the
corridor, fighting all the way.  Marius was surprised he still had the
strength in him to do it.  He had looked so frail.  He must be a strong
one; strong will and strong body, Marius wondered how it would all work
out.   This was not exactly what he had bargained for when he came looking
for an apprentice.  He would have to wait and see.

Marius listened to them splashing the boy with a bucket of cold water.  He
could feel the shock of the cold hitting the boy, feel him flinch and
cringe.  The child fought them as they pulled a tunic onto him.  Someone
slapped him hard and it was bringing the tears to his eyes again.  They
were pulling him down the corridor now, towards Marius.  The boy was
crying, ³No, no, no . . .² the whole way, helplessly . . . hopelessly.  He
was slapped again, and he fell silent under the accompanying barrage of
curses and threats.  The pain welled up in the mind of the boy again, and
finally he seemed to succumb to it, bend under its weight.  What filled
him then was an overwhelming sadness, a grief so all-encompassing that it
obliterated all other thoughts and feelings.  The boyıs mind was a curious
blank as he was finally brought before Marius in the quiet apartment.  His
slim shoulders seemed to sag with his weariness.

The boy did not look up, even when he was brought to a stumbling halt in
front of Marius.  Marius had seated himself in a large carved wooden
chair, almost throne-like, with luxurious upholstery and large comfortable
cushions.  The boyıs eyes were open, and he must have seen Mariusı feet
before him.  In fact, he seemed to be studying Mariusı fine leather boots
in an uncomprehending stupor.

The boy was not looking at Marius, but Marius sat stunned gazing at the
countenance of the battered boy before him.  Marius had never seen such
beauty outside of the paintings of angels on the ceilings of cathedrals. 
He had tried to capture this kind of beauty in his own paintings of angels
and saints, and had always failed.  He had never found the right model. 
He had tried to idealize the faces that he saw everyday, in his
apprentices, in the street, in the churches he visited; human faces filled
with human beauty and human suffering.  But this child, this beautiful
boy, he had the face of an angel.  A mortal boy with the face of an
angel.  Mariusı heart moved in a strange and painful way.  Then the boy
looked up and into Mariusı eyes.

Marius gazed into the wide liquid brown eyes and felt a desire to weep. 
He read the defeat there.  He read confusion and misery and pain so deep
that he thought the boy probably didnıt even feel his bodyıs hunger any
more, but it was there too.  Marius wanted to reach out to this boy and
gather him to him.  Wanted more than anything in the world at that moment
to ease the beautiful angelıs pain.  But there were two figures hovering
in the doorway.  They must be dealt with first.

Marius stood and very gently ran a hand over the hair of the battered
innocent before him.  It was dripping wet and clung in curls to his face
and neck.  Water dripping from one curl on his forehead ran down into his
eyes, and he lifted one small hand to dash the water away with the back of
his knuckles as he gazed at the tall pale figure looming over him.  Marius
lifted the childish chin in his other hand and smiled and murmurred
calming words, reassuring words.  He sent a subtle mental message that
said no harm will come to him; sent it gently and soothingly into the
confused mind that was trying to understand why he was there and what was
happening.  The wide dark eyes continued to stare into his, dazed and
uncomprehending.  Marius could see that explanations would have to wait. 
The boy just wasnıt in any condition to understand.

Marius patted the damp head and then turned away towards the men waiting
in the doorway.  A pouch of gold coins was removed from the folds of
Mariusı cloak, weighed in his palm and then emptied into the waiting
cupped hands of the proprietor.  Marius said something under his breath
and the proprietor nodded, then bowed, then turned and disappeared down
the shadowy corridor.  The doorman hurried after him.  Marius and the boy
were forgotten.

The boy gazed after the figures that had disappeared so abruptly.  Then he
glanced back in shock to Mariusı face.  Realization seemed to hit him
finally, realization of the fact that he now had a new master; a tall
mysterious master with a luminous white face that seemed to glow eerily in
the candlelight; a face so smooth it might not have been real.  Fear
gripped him and he cried out in panic.  He cried out that he would obey,
that he would be good.  But it was too late, and he knew it even as he
cried out.  He tried to rush out of the room past Marius, but was caught
and held in an unbreakable grip, caught up in strong arms against a sea of
red velvet and drawn inexorably away from the horrors of the brothel into
the horrors of the unknown.

Marius drew the sobbing boy out of the brothel and towards the canal. 
There, a gondola waited, and Marius knew there was only one way to quiet
the struggling, panicked child and get him to the gondola without raising
the entire neighbourhood with their noise.  He pulled the boyıs seemingly
weightless body up close against him as he paused in the shadows.  Pulling
the wet hair away from the slim neck, he bent his head and sank his fangs
as gently as he could into the vein that pulsed with the boyıs terror. 
The young one stiffened for a moment in Mariusı arms and then melted
against the velvet cloak, melted into his strong arms.  Marius could feel
all the fear and anxiety drain from the small body as he cradled it
close.  He could feel the young mind surrender gratefully to the feelings
of pleasure flooding through him; to the reassurance of the mindvoice as
Marius told him that he would never be hurt again.  As  the boy swooned,
Marius picked him up and swiftly lifted him into the boat.  The gondolier
never glanced at his passengers.  He simply steered the craft into the
canal, and it disappeared into the night.



Mariusı first thought upon waking was of his precious Amadeo.  Returning
just before dawn from his travels to the remote resting place of Those Who
Must Be Kept, he had not had time to do more than catch a glimpse of his
sleeping love, nestled amongst the velvets and satins of the enormous bed
in his chamber, before having to retreat to his lair far below in the
empty darkness and the echoing dampness of the cellar beneath the
palazzo.  Now, the hollow sound of Marius replacing the lid of his coffin
was the only sound down there except the sound that the all-enveloping
water of the canal made . . . slapping, gurgling, dripping . . .

His dreams that day had been full of his young one.  This trip had taken
longer than expected.  He had been away too long this time, and he was
aching with anticipation of the fulfillment of his dreams . . . his sweet
love, his Amadeo, clasped to his breast in an agony of want, an ecstasy of
longing.  He flew up the stairs.

From the wide hallway at the top of the stairs he heard the unmistakable
sound of activity in the studio.  Ah, they were still hard at work, his
wonderful apprentices.  Would Amadeo be there among them, covered with
paint, smudged with dust, busy, unkempt, unknowing? Would he surprise them
all?  He found himself hungering almost violently for the light that would
spring into his young oneıs eyes.  Yes, he must see it . . . now!

He paused for a moment taking in the scene.  The aroma of cooking still
hung in the air of the palazzo.  They had eaten not long ago, less than an
hour.  He could smell the wine still hanging in the air, coming from the
breath of the apprentices who were leisurely preparing for work that would
not really begin in earnest until the Masterıs return.  They were quietly
joking amongst themselves, drowsy and content after the evening meal. 
There was not much for them to do in the evenings while the Master was
away.

Amadeo was not with them.  He was not in any of their thoughts.  Marius
stepped into the room.  ³Master!² they cried and dropping their things
they rushed to surround him, greeting him warmly, happily.  Yes, they were
a contented bunch, these four.  Just the right amount of age difference,
the right mix of personalities had allowed them to become very close to
each other, almost like brothers.  Marius smiled at them, greeting them
each with an affectionate touch, the gentle squeeze of a shoulder, the
ruffling of a shaggy head of hair, the barest whisper of a kiss on the
forehead of the youngest.  Their voices bubbled around him.

He held up one hand finally and silence fell.  The young faces turned up
to his were eager and attentive.  ³Clear up what you are doing there, and
then you are free for the rest of the evening,² he instructed them in a
low voice.  ³But . . .,² he held their gazes just to make sure he still
had their attention.  ³You must still be here in your room in the palazzo
by midnight, remember.²

Their ³Yes, Master!² held varying degrees of relief, anticipation, guilt
and amusement.  Marius was not worried they would forget.  They were very
good boys, really.

He caught the eldest by the arm as they turned away to their duties. 
³Where is Amadeo this evening?²

The boyıs smile was wide and knowing.  It was also full of affection that
shone in his clear eyes.  Yes, Marius thought, they all loved his Amadeo.

³He was in the city running errands all day, Master,² came the answer. 
³He retired to his room right after we finished eating.  I think he was
very tired, Master.²

Marius just nodded.  He patted the boyıs back lightly and then pushed him
gently towards the others.

³Itıs good to have you back, Master,² the boy said before turning away to
his companions.  ³Amadeo will be very happy.²

Marius watched them with a benevolent smile for a few more moments,
listening to their whispered plans for the remainder of the evening . . .
a little mischief, some teasing laughter . . .  They would be gone in
moments.  They were anxious to take advantage of this evening of freedom. 
They were going into the city.  Only the eldest had ever been in the city
after dark. What an adventure!

Marius continued on his way through the palazzo, further down the wide
hallway, up a staircase to the next floor.  To his right a door closed
softly and a servant picked up a large ceramic basin and turned away
towards the far stairs hidden almost in darkness, the servantıs stairs.

³Just a moment,² Marius called quietly but clearly in the stillness of the
corridor.  The servant stopped in surprise, turning towards the quiet but
insistent voice of the Master.

³Iım sorry, Master,² he said, and bowed his head, raising it again to meet
Mariusı eyes only tentatively.  ³I did not see you, there, Master.²

³Is that Master Amadeoıs bath?² Marius questioned. 

³Yes, Master,² the servant hurried to explain.  ³Iım sorry it took so long
to remove it, Master.  We have been extra busy in the kitchen tonight,
Master.  One of the others is sick and did not arrive this evening to
work.²

Marius waved his hand, indicating this was of no consequence to him.  ³Is
the young Master asleep?² he asked instead.

³Yes, Master,² he whispered breathlessly, as if just remembering there was
a reason that he had to be quiet outside this particular door.

³You may go,² Marius told him.  With another little bow of his head, the
servant shuffled off down the corridor towards the back stairs.  Marius
knew the news that the Master was back would be the cause of no little
excitement in the kitchens tonight.  He also knew he did not have to worry
about any of them seeking him out this evening to disturb his reunion with
his beloved.  It was a strict rule in this household:  When the Master and
the young Master were alone together on the second floor, no one was to
step foot on that floor until morning.  

There were rumours that servants had been dismissed for such trespasses. 
And the Master paid so well, and was so kind, that none of them wished to
jeopardize such happy employment.  Besides, every one of them knew what
the Master and the young Master were to each other.  One had only to look
into their eyes when they were together.  No one who worked here wished to
disturb that  relationship in any way.  It was a thing of beauty, they all
agreed.

Marius opened the door to the bedroom without a sound and slipped in among
the shadows.  He did not wish to wake his sleeping beauty . . . yet.  He
slowly drew closer to the bed, gazing with hunger and adoration at the
sight that met his eyes.  His young love was lying naked in the damp heat
of the soft summer night.  There was no breeze off the canal to disturb
the curtains around the bed tonight, and the young one was sprawled atop
the thin sheet that might have covered him if there had been.

So young . . . so beautiful . . ., Marius stood like a statue carved from
purest white marble at the foot of the bed, gazing in marvelous wonder at
the creature sleeping peacefully in the light of a single candle.  Ah,
yes, there always had to be at least one candle.  The dark reaches of the
night still held too many buried memories, disturbing memories, for Amadeo
to be completely comfortable closing his eyes in the knowledge that it
would soon surround him again.  So one new candle was lit every evening
when he retired to his slumbers.  And if the night was still and calm as
tonight was, the candle may well continue to burn right through until
morning.  Marius knew his young love would outgrow this fear of the dark,
this remnant from his past.  It was only a matter of time.  So Marius
indulged him.  It was a very small thing to indulge.

Standing there, worshipping the youthful beauty, Marius pondered on the
miracle that had changed that cowering creature from the brothel into the
epitome of sweet abandonment he was witnessing now.  The young boy whom
Marius had brought into his heart and into his home only a year ago had
blossomed beyond recognition.  The sturdy body that had been starved
almost beyond repair, had filled out beautifully, with a healthy plumpness
to arms and legs and cheeks that gave his looks a cherubic quality that
was as deceiving as it was entrancing.  The shy uncertainty that had
gripped him once had been replaced by a natural, and surprisingly
seductive, gracefulness of movement and repose.  He often sat for hours
curled with a boneless languor at Mariusı feet.  He ran like a whirlwind
through the palazzo in search of Marius every evening at twilight. He had
surprised Marius, and all the apprentices as well, with the swiftness of
his sweet and gentle acceptance of the wonder of his new life.  

Yes, it was certainly a tribute to the miraculous resilience of the human
spirit  that with time and love and understanding, a great deal of healing
could be accomplished.  Freedom from pain, now that was another matter. 
His young love would always carry those scars.  But, for now, the scars
had been given a chance to heal.  And life had begun again.  His beautiful
oneıs gurgling laughter could be heard in the shadows most evenings.  His
confident snuggling in Mariusı embrace by the blazing fire, a tribute to
the affection that flowed freely between them.  Marius had not been this
happy in a very long time.

Marius did not want to dwell on the past nor think about the future, not
yet.  He knew his young love wanted assurances he could not yet give,
promises for the future, the sharing of the gift of tomorrow.  Right now,
in this place, he wanted to enjoy the life he was living.  He wanted to
live each night as it came.  Time enough for worrying tomorrow.  Tonight,
all he wanted to think about was his sweet and loving boy and the fragile
and beautiful idyll they shared in this Venetian palazzo overlooking the
canal.

Right now, Marius just wanted to enjoy the play of light and shadow from
the flickering candle flame as it alternately gilded and then hid the
sleeping features of his sweet loveıs face.  A faint whisper of a breeze
had finally made its way into the room and had disturbed the candle flame,
but it had not yet reached the sleeping figure in the bed.  Or maybe it
had.  Marius stared at the faint puckering of the brows on that beautiful
face.  Something disturbed his loved oneıs rest.  He hoped it was only the
breeze from the canal coming through the open window.  He did not like to
see that expression on the face of his Amadeo.  It reminded him too much
of the expression that face had worn on that awful, wonderful night just
over a year ago. 


............................................................................................................................................................

That first night . . .the frightened, frantic boy . . .and Mariusı vampire
kiss that had calmed him, seduced him ; that same kiss that had opened up
the secret horrors of his wounded mind to Mariusı tender probing
consciousness.  What Marius had seen and felt there made him want to weep
and curse and throw himself between that weakened spirit and the harrowing
pain that afflicted it.  

Marius could have done it:  numbed that pain, befuddled the brain.  But
what good would it have done in the end?  No, there was no fast and easy
remedy here.  This was going to take time, patience, and . . . love.  Yes,
he could give that.  He would love this young one with all his heart. 
Together they would build something beautiful, something to last forever.

Marius could remember that first night as if it was only last night.  His
sweet angel melting into his arms, melting like wax in the heat of the
vampire kiss.  Marius had felt it all, felt the instant blossoming of the
tender heart.  All childish fear and remembered pain melted away. In its
place swept a sweet abandonment to passion, a yielding up to feeling, an
innocent reaching out for pleasure, a hunger for the love of the one who
gave him such pleasure.  Ah, Marius had felt himself caught.  Yes, in that
moment Marius knew he could feed that hunger, that need, and in doing so,
feed his own lonely love-starved heart.  He wanted that, he needed that.

And so Marius whispered reassurances, and soothed with gentle loving
hands, and pressed kisses to the sweet curves of the upturned face.  And
his gentle angel accepted it all, without question, offering his own
tentative touches, his own tender kisses, his own wide-eyed adoration. 
And this loving exploration continued down the dark length of the canal,
up the wide stone staircase of the palazzo, and into the sumptuously
appointed bedchamber.   

Yes, that first night had been a revelation to Marius.  Tenderness had
been dredged up from his soul in ever-increasing waves that left him
breathless.  He had carried his precious burden into his palazzo in the
dead of night where all inside were asleep.  He had roused a servant from
his bed and bade him fetch hot water and a basin to set in front of a
blazing fire, in the Masterıs bedroom.  And there he had gently bathed his
beautiful angel, trying to wash away all memory of  past pain and fear
along with the dirt and the tears.  Marius had bid the servant bring a
goblet of wine and then he had held it steady as the warm and drowsing boy
drank as much of it as he could.  And when his sweet one was clean and
clinging to him, he wrapped him up in the folds of the softest robe and
took him to the bed.  Marius ensconced him there among the velvet curtains
and satin pillows, succumbing once again to the need and the pleasure of
the vampire kiss.   Finally, wrapping him in gentle, tender arms, Marius
held his sleeping love, in all his trusting innocence, until the dawn
forced them apart.


............................................................................................................................................................

Over the following months, his young love had drifted easily into the
routine of life in the palazzo.  He made friends with the apprentices and
they took him under their wing and taught him all the secrets of pigments,
and frescoes and preparing for the Masterıs work.  They ate together, and
laughed together and learned about each other.  The apprentices introduced
him to Venice, and the Venetian dialect and he in turn gave them his ready
smile, his sweet laughter, his touching acceptance of them as one of his
brothers.  And yet, they all knew that he was different.  He was the
Masterıs beloved.  The respect and gratitude they felt towards Marius was
extended towards his loved one.   They accepted him as one of them because
they knew without asking that Marius wished it.  And it was so easy to
love this one.  So easy to welcome him with open arms.  The apprentices,
the servants, the patrons of the Masterıs art, all were bewitched by the
beautiful boy with the eyes that could look both happy and sad at the same
time.

These eyes, their expression, were a constant torment to Marius.  He
showered all the love and tenderness he had in him to try and stem the
tide of sadness that was always waiting in the shadows behind those eyes. 
He sought with art, and music, and literature to erase those shadows
forever.  He taught his love to read, and paint, and play the lute.  These
things brought them closer together.  They gave his beautiful boy the
confidence to believe that he gave as much back to Marius as Marius gave
to him.  Oh, if he only knew.  If he only knew the spark of life that he
gave to Mariusı heart was more precious than any other gift he could
give.  Marius knew he still had to convince his sweet one of this; that
love was all Marius ever wanted or needed him to give.


............................................................................................................................................................


This blight on their closeness, this insecurity, seemed to resurface every
time Marius had to leave for any length of time, as he regularly did, in
his capacity of guardian of the progenitors.  Marius knew that even
voluable  reassurances of his continuing devotion despite his absence were
only partially successful.  He knew that his lover would be plagued by the
anxieties of the past until Mariusı eventual return.  And then the reunion
was so sweet, so overwhelming, that neither of them wished to be parted
ever again.  But, it was impossible to even suggest such a thing.  The
young one needed to grow, needed to learn about life beyond the tortures
of his past, beyond the false security of the palazzo.  There was no
question of Marius bringing him to him yet, giving him the blood that
would bind them together forever in darkness.  And the care and safety of
Those Who Must Be Kept was an obligation that held Marius even tighter
than the love of his sweet boy.  So Marius continued to worry and placate
and finally leave, and his beautiful one fretted while he was gone and
then rejoiced with Marius upon his return.  It was not satisfactory, but
it was necessary.

Then Marius had had an idea.  And it had worked.  To cut the ties to his
past, to reassure him that he indeed belonged here with Marius in this
palazzo, Marius had decided to give his young love a new name.  This name
would tie them together in a bond that would be reinforced every time he
voiced it, every time his beautiful boy responded to it.  And Marius had
been obsessed with one name in particular since the moment he had first
seen the candlelight flicker in those luminous and innocent orbs: 
Amadeo.  Marius recalled the look in those eyes when he had first called
his beloved that:  the blaze of happiness, of love, of borderline
idolatry.  Marius had never recovered from that moment, and never would,
because every time the name passed his lips it was replayed before him. 
It was as if, with the giving of the name, his Amadeo had taken possession
of him, rather than the other way around.


............................................................................................................................................................

Now the young one muttered in his sleep and tossed restlessly on the bed. 
Marius pierced his mind to find what was troubling him and found an image
of himself leaving in the gondola, this last time they were parted.  The
remembered pain in Marius was intense, and it was echoed in the mind of
his young love even now.  Enough of this.

³Amadeo,² he said insistently, yet lovingly, aloud.  ³Amadeo,² he
repeated, a little louder.  He felt his love awaken.

The boy lay still for a moment, trying to remember what had awakened him. 
Marius smiled and waited.  Suddenly, Amadeo turned onto his back and gazed
at him in shock.  Then the most beatific smile spread across his face,
lighting his eyes from within so that they positively sparked with life. 
He sat up slowly on the disheveled bed, with an alluring and unconscious
grace, his hair a wild tangle about his face, and held out both arms to
Marius.

Slowly, Marius came around the side of the bed, sat down on the side of
it, and took the outstretched hands in his.  So warm . . . so soft . . .
Amadeo came into his arms and Marius enfolded him close to his broad
chest, almost pulling his lover into his lap.  After the first hungry
kiss, it became clear his young love had ideas of his own.  Leaning back
towards the bed he pulled on Marius with insistent hands.  Marius let
Amadeo pull him down to lay beside him on the bed.  Once there, Amadeo
wrapped arms and legs around Marius and clung to him, humming slightly,
nuzzling into Mariusı neck, rubbing his face against his velvet-clad
shoulder.  ³Master . . . Master . . .,² he crooned softly.  ³I missed you,
Master.  I missed you so.²  It was a whisper, a cry from the soul that
pierced Mariusı heart.

³Iım here . . . Iım here . . .² Marius choked out, brokenly.  ³My sweet
Amadeo.  My love.  Iım here.  I love you.  I love you!²  Marius pulled the
young one even closer to him, wrapping his arms around him fiercely,
trying not to crush him with his passion.  After a breathless moment, he
rolled over and pushed his beautiful lover back against the bedclothes,
following in the same motion.  Marius lay beside him, gazing in adoration
at the face of the angel so close to his.  Then he bent his head and
nuzzled at the tender throat, kissing, tasting the soft yielding texture
with his tongue.

³Yes!² came the immediate response from his lover.  And ³yes!² again as
Amadeo brought his hands up to cradle Mariusı head, sliding them into the
soft white hair to caress the skull with tender fingers.  Then, as Marius
continued to worship the warm neck, the  pulsing vein beneath his lips, he
heard a sigh from deep within the narrow chest release itself with a moan
into the quiet of the room.

³Please!²  came the whisper of the soft voice, filled with longing. 
Marius was suddenly filled with the same longing, the same aching hunger,
and decided they had both waited long enough.  He caressed the tender vein
with the tips of his fangs, then slowly, gently, slid them into it.

The blood!  Ah, Marius thought, nothing like the precious blood of my
Amadeo.  Hot, and filled with everything that made up the wonderful being
that his young love was.

This was not feeding.  That hunger Marius would sate later that night in
the dark alleys and canals of the teeming city.  No, this was not the
feeding of his body.  This was the healing of his soul.  This was love. 
And it was so powerful it made Marius forget who he was, and what he was,
and even where he was.  There was only himself and his loved one, alone,
connected in the blood, breathing, beating, living as one heart, one mind,
one creature, complete and whole.

Too soon Marius felt his Amadeo swoon with weakness.  Marius withdrew from
the tender vein that had fed his every desire.  With his tongue he lapped
gently, lovingly at the puncture marks until they ceased to bleed.  Then
he lifted his head and watched the candlelight flicker across the closed
lids, the parted lips of his lover.  Marius bent his head to gently kiss
those soft lips, and surprisingly, Amadeo opened his eyes.  Marius had
thought him unconscious from the loss of blood.  But no, Amadeo gazed back
at him exhausted but filled with complete contentment.

³Sleep, beloved,² Marius urged.  ³I will stay here with you for a while.² 
He pulled his young one into a deeper embrace.  Amadeo nestled against
him.  One slim hand slid inside Mariusı coat to explore the hard ridges of
the ribs there.  It slid up to press against the steady beating of Mariusı
heart.  Finally it pulled back to tuck itself beneath Amadeoıs chin
between the softness of Mariusı shirt and the warmth of his own skin,
before the boy silently slipped into slumber.

Marius held his Amadeoıs naked body close to him, running his hands over
the sleeping form:  the sweet curve of his neck, the slim width of his
shoulders, the slenderness of his waist, the supple softness of the skin
on his back, the elegant flexibility of his spine, the narrow hips, the
tenderly dimpled buttocks, the hidden subtle strength in the muscles of
his thighs, the hard round knees, the smooth calves, the perfectly formed
feet and toes.  His body was still boyish in its tenderness, its
vulnerability.  But . . . for how much longer.  

A full year had seen enormous changes in Amadeo.  With love and good food
and plenty of sleep, he was growing, changing, almost daily.  He was
gaining in self-confidence, gaining in strength.  Soon he would be well on
his way to becoming a man.  A man, thought Marius.  When his Amadeo became
a man, what would Marius have become?  It was one thing holding a young
innocent and inexperienced boy in the heat and thrall of his love, his
need, his hunger.  But, what about a man?  A man grown hard, and strong,
and independent and . . .

Marius felt pain.  A new pain disrupting the euphoria of his love for his
Amadeo.  Fear.  He could not wait that long.  He knew he should.  He knew
that he should let his love grow into the man he was meant to become. But
. . . he couldnıt.  He was too weak, too greedy.  He did not want to lose
his love.  He did not even want to chance it, to wait and see.  No, before
that could happen, he would bring his lover to him.  Anything else was
unthinkable, impossible, insupportable.  Marius supposed he should be
shocked at himself, his selfishness.  But he wasnıt.  He accepted it.  He
could not endure this life without his Amadeo at his side.  It was
decided.  Hopefully, his young love would never know that Marius had
decided his future without his consent.  Perhaps his Amadeo loved him
enough that it made no difference.  Not that he was going to give his love
the chance to worry about it.  He would wait until the right moment, the
very threshold of manhood, and then he would bring him to him . . .
forever.

............................................................................................................................................................

Marius sat in the studio staring at the panel before him.  A flock of
black winged angels hovered over the form of a boy . . . a boy without a
face.

The figures of the angels were pure fantasy, but their faces . . . Their
faces were ones that Marius could quite easily bring to mind: demons from
his past, rogues and civilized fiends alike.  As he painted them onto the
canvas, he wondered if he was doing them too much justice by immortalizing
them in pigment.  Not that it mattered, they were all gone into oblivion,
he had seen to that . . . personally.  They were fit enough to symbolize
the hovering darkness that was threatening the beautiful youth who knelt
below their terrifying presence.  Yes, that darkness hovered over his
Amadeo even now, and the only thing protecting him was Mariusı love.  But
Marius was afraid that not even the strength of his love could protect his
sweet Amadeo forever.

Marius was pleased with this band of devil/angels.  He was pleased with
the expressions he had managed to capture on their faces.  Yes, his memory
was as accurate as ever.  He was satisfied with the figures also.  Even
the details of the young oneıs tunic pleased him well.  But the face, yes,
the face of his lovely darling, that was going to be the ruin, or the
perfection, of this very special painting.

He had painted Amadeoıs face before.  It illuminated a dozen or more works
on walls of palazzo galleries, private libraries and gilded churches
throughout the city.  It smiled down beneficently on him now, here in his
studio, where it graced the body of an angel supporting the arm of the
Virgin Herself.  But always he had painted that beautiful face wearing an
expression that spoke only of adoration, pure and simple.  It was an
expression that graced his loved oneıs face often enough, to be sure, but
it was not the most beautiful, the most poignant, the most loving
expression that Marius had ever seen on his Amadeoıs face.

This time, for this painting, he wanted to capture that *particular*
expression.  The one that broke his heart every time he saw it.  The one
he knew that no one else but he saw on his Amadeoıs face, because he only
saw it in those precious moments when they were completely alone, when
they were in each otherıs arms, expressing their devotion to each other. 
It was a look that spoke of complete love, complete acceptance and a
yielding of the soul to something larger than itself, something it did not
understand.  It was a poignant expression filled with a sweet sadness that
spoke of endless hours and days of longing: longing to belong, longing to
be completed, longing to never be parted from the other half of his soul .
. . his loving Master.

For that was the secret, wasnıt it?  If he could manage to capture that
expression of pure love on Amadeoıs face, he would not only be revealing
the depths of Amadeoıs soul in the paint, but also the reflection of his
own.  This young one understood.  This young one felt everything that he
did.  To Marius this was a blessing, a miracle. But to his darling Amadeo?

Marius was going to try and capture it.  Yes, try to capture it for all
time in imperishable pigment, just in case, because he feared, yes, he
secretly feared, it may someday vanish. Someday soon . . . too soon.  How
could such a perfect love as this possibly last?

Marius looked up, sensing someone had come to the door, someone special. 
Ah, there he was, his face aglow with health, and laughter, and the flush
caused by the cold wind off the canal.  The light of love filled his eyes
and the smile on his face brought joy to Mariusı heart.  Amadeo turned,
laughing, as the rest of the apprentices stumbled into the room, carrying
him with them in an exuberant tangle of arms and legs.  They quieted upon
seeing the Master and came to stand beside him to view the painting. 
Their expressions were variously puzzled, amazed and worried, but 
Amadeoıs face was only quietly reflective.  The boys glanced nervously
back and forth between the Master and his beloved, saying nothing.

³Itıs very beautiful,² said his loved one, finally looking into Mariusı
eyes.  The expression on Amadeoıs face was tranquil, accepting.  No fear
there, only curiosity.

³It will be even more beautiful when Iıve finished,² Marius said, smiling
into the warm brown eyes.  

His beloved dropped his eyes, his cheeks wearing a slight blush.  The
other boys chuckled and snickered a bit.  One patted Amadeo on the
shoulder.  Amadeo gave that one a little push as he smiled back at his
Master.

³Itıs late,² said Marius.  ³You havenıt eaten yet and the cook is fast
losing patience trying to keep the evening meal hot for you.  Off you go
to the kitchens.²

Everything else was forgotten as the apprentices scrambled to rid
themselves of their cloaks and scarves, and be the first one to the
kitchens.  They argued among themselves about what the delicious aroma
coming from there could be.

Amadeo stayed at Mariusı side until they were all alone in the enormous
empty studio.  When Marius opened his arms, the young one moved into them
with a heavy sigh, his arms sliding around Mariusı neck, settling onto
Mariusı lap with the ease and confidence of long practice.  He let his
body rest against Mariusı hard chest.  He pressed his head under Mariusı
strong chin, butting it with his forehead gently.

³You should go and have your meal now, beloved.  It wonıt stay hot for
long, you know.²  Marius reluctantly took Amadeoıs hands in his, stilling
their soft movements in his hair.

³Iım not hungry right now,² Amadeo whispered, tipping back his head, his
eyes never leaving his Masterıs face.  ³Couldnıt I have something to eat
later?  I want to stay here with you for now.  I want to watch you
paint.²  

The look in his eyes was softly pleading.  Marius had the urge for one
impulsive moment to just pick him up in his arms and carry him off to
their bedchamber. He had done it often enough before now.  In fact, he
could swear that the same idea was lighting the fire of desire in his
sweet loverıs eyes as well.

³No.² Marius had to close his eyes for just a moment to gain the strength
to fight temptation.  ³No, I canıt darling one.  I must go out tonight to
see about a commission.  A new patron has approached Vincenzo.  He and I
are going to see this patron tonight.  I will be out for quite a while. 
You have your meal and spend some time with the boys this evening.  Iıll
come and see you sometime before morning.²  Marius explained his plans in
a calm and loving tone.  Amadeo, as usual, was quietly accepting.

³Yes, Master,² was all he said, but there was a hint of resignation, of
disappointment that he couldnıt seem to keep from his voice.  He may not
even be aware of it, thought Marius.  This young one was so guileless.

³It wonıt be so long.  The time will fly.²  Marius tried to be
reassuring.  He smiled encouragingly at the boy.  ³Go on now.  Enjoy your
meal.  Have fun with the boys and try not to act too superior when you
beat Marco at chess,² he teased Amadeo.

³I donıt always beat him, you know,² he hastened to point out to Marius. 
³Sometimes I let him win, just to be friendly,² he confided.

³Thatıs very kind of you, Amadeo,² Marius replied affectionately.  The
young one was so tenderhearted with the other boys.  They were all younger
than he, and he seemed to feel an obligation to look after them.  Marius
thought it was very sweet: innocence leading the innocent.  If only it
werenıt so unutterably sad.

Marius pulled Amadeo to his feet, kissed him quickly on the forehead and
pushed him towards the door.  ³Go now.  Iıll be back before you know it.² 


Amadeo took two steps, then turned and rushed back into Mariusı arms to
hug him quickly.  Then he was gone.  Marius watched the retreating figure
move out of sight.  He glanced once more at the unfinished portrait and
then hurried out to fetch his cloak.  He was anxious to be gone.  The
sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return.


............................................................................................................................................................

Marius and the patron had come to terms fairly quickly.  His intermediary,
Vincenzo had been quite surprised at how generous Marius had been in
negotiating his side of the contract.  He was even more surprised when
Marius left him to finalize the details himself with the excuse that he
had another important engagement to which he had to attend that evening as
well.  Marius had never trusted Vincenzo with these responsibilities
before, and he wondered idly if perhaps Marius was not quite feeling
himself.  He did seem even paler than usual this evening.

Marius did not care what Vincenzo thought.  He had had enough of being
sociable this night.  He knew he was being unforgiveably rude, but he
couldnıt seem to get his mind on the job at hand.  He made an appointment
to visit the site where the fresco was to be painted and then bowed out as
gracefully as he could.  His mind was elsewhere and that was where he
wanted to be, not here in some drafty reception hall of some count or
another.

Marius didnıt want to bother with the countıs ornate gondola that waited
at the bottom of the palazzoıs wide marble steps, but supposed he must. 
He ordered the gondolier to take him to the steps closest to the nearest
city square.  Once disembarked, he stepped into the darkness beneath the
nearest archway.  After pausing for just a moment to check that all was
still, Marius flew straight up into the night sky and out across the city.

He was home almost immediately, feeling a strange inner tension that had
been building inside him all evening.  He wasnıt sure of its cause, only
that it had something to do with the way his young one had clung to him
earlier.  Amadeo had given up that clinging habit quite some time ago.  It
was disturbing to see it resurface again after all this time.  There had
arisen between them a silent agreement that shows of that kind of
affection were best limited to the privacy of their room, especially now
that Amadeo was almost seventeen, not really a little child any more, free
to climb into his lap any time he wished.  Perhaps his Amadeo was upset
about something.  He was going to find out.

Marius entered the palazzo from the shadows of the courtyard.  It was
after midnight and the building was quiet, the rooms dark.  He made a
quick scan of the servantsı quarters as he walked down the main hall to
the stairway.  All quiet.  He checked on the apprentices.  All abed but
one, young Marco was sitting by the window, reading by candlelight.  And
Amadeo, alone in the second floor bedchamber, was sleeping by the light of
the full moon shining through the frosted window panes.  He sought out the
young oneıs mind for reassurance that his worries had been unnecessary. 
He expected to be met with tranquility and contentment.  What he stumbled
into was not what he had expected.  Amadeo was dreaming.

Marius was so startled he came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.  His
mind was holding an image from Amadeoıs dreaming mind.  An image of
himself and his young one, lying together on the big bed in the upstairs
chamber, naked.  They had never done such a thing.  What was this?

Marius gripped the balustrade with one hand.  He steadied himself
unconsciously as he slipped into Amadeoıs mind again, seeking answers.  He
got them.  He retreated from the scalding images, again.  He had to think
about this.  Marius pushed himself away from the staircase and walked
further down the long hallway to his library. The door was open and he
walked over to his favourite chair, lighting a fire in the fireplace
almost automatically with his mind as he came into the room. The
candelabrum came alight with a dozen blazing candles on the table beside
the comfortable wingback chair, just as he collapsed into it.

He had to know the rest of it, Marius decided.  He sought out Amadeoıs
mind again.  The images were well defined, they came through clearly.  It
was obvious this was a dream his young one had had before.  Very detailed,
very intense and very . . . erotic.  And the emotions, the raw feeling
pouring out of his Amadeoıs mind and into his were overwhelming.  Marius
was breathless with the heat of the passion that was being passed on to
him by their linked minds.

In Amadeoıs dream, Marius and Amadeo were lying together naked on the bed,
very close together.  They were on their sides, facing each other, knees
touching.  Amadeoıs hand was slowly and thoroughly exploring the planes
and ridges of Mariusı shoulders, arms, and chest as if memorizing the
smooth contours, watching the progress of his own hand over the cold
unyielding flesh.  The first image Marius had caught had been Amadeo with
his hand sliding along his own hard white ribcage.  The second image had
been of Amadeoıs hand tracing circles around Mariusı hard white nipple.

Now, as Marius sat back in his chair with his eyes closed but his mind
open, a scene of startling tenderness and passion was being inacted behind
his very eyelids.  In the dream, Amadeo looked up into his Masterıs eyes.
What he saw there must have encouraged him, because he immediately bent
his head and began to explore the same hard surfaces that his hand had
already explored, but with his mouth.  Marius watched himself cradle his
loverıs bent head, hard white fingers spreading gently through the rich
auburn hair.  He watched as his own fingers lifted the hair from the nape
of Amadeoıs neck.  He watched himself bend to kiss the side of that
exposed neck, to lick it with a slow sweeping motion of the tongue, from
shoulder to ear and back again.

In a daze, Marius watched the dream unfold.  He watched as Amadeoıs slim
hand continued to caress his Masterıs body as he pressed more and more
heated kisses onto chest, ribs and hard flat stomach.  When Amadeoıs hand
reached for what lay hard, white and erect against the muscular belly,
Marius severed the link . . . abruptly.

What in the world . . .? What in heavenıs name was he going to do about this?


Marius commenced to berate himself.  He should have known.  He should have
guessed.  He had been such an immortal idiot.  Amadeo was almost
seventeen.  Of course, he was going to have these feelings.  Of course he
was going to be having erotic fantasies.  And who else would he have them
about except the one person he loved more than anyone in the whole world? 
His *lover* . . .

They had to talk.  It was obviously time they had a very serious talk. 
Marius must explain to Amadeo.  He must make him understand.  What, did
his young one think he could return that kind of love . . . physically? 
Hadnıt he yet realized exactly what kind of a creature his Master was? 
Oh, there were going to be bruised feelings here. He was going to have to
be so careful.  But Marius had to make Amadeo understand.  He had to be
made to realize that his dreams could never be fulfilled.  It was
impossible.  It was . . . what was he going to say?

Marius felt he had to do something.  And he had to do it now.  This must
not be allowed to continue.  It would be harder for both of them if it
did.  Marius had kept too much hidden.  It was time his beloved had a hard
meeting with reality.  He might lose him in the process.  He might hurt
him unintentionally.  But it had to be done.  It was time.

³Amadeo,² Marius mindcalled his beloved, something he had never done
before.  Always, in the past, Marius had slipped his mindvoice subtly into
Amadeoıs own thoughts, as if it was the boyıs own thoughts speaking. 
Never had he directly spoken, as himself, into Amadeoıs fully conscious
mind.  

He felt Amadeo wake with a start.  He was disoriented, still being
affected by the dream.  Marius gave him a few minutes to fully awaken.  

Amadeo had reached the point where he was wondering whether he had heard
his name called in the dream, or whether his Master was in fact somewhere
in the room with him, when Marius called him again.  

³Amadeo,²  Marius sent his voice into the boyıs mind.  ³Come down to the
library, please.²

Marius felt and saw through Amadeoıs eyes, as the boy looked around the
dark room, seeking his Master.

³Iım waiting for you in the library, Amadeo.  Come to me,²  Marius told
him silently.

Amadeo moved from beneath the covers and sat for a moment on the side of
the bed, seemingly waiting for something.  Nothing happened in the room. 
Amadeo slowly got up and crossed to the table that held the candle in its
holder.  He carried it over to the fireplace where the embers from that
eveningıs fire still glowed faintly in the darkness.  He bent, and picking
up something from the hearth, stuck it into the embers.  A small flame
sprang up in the darkness.  It was carried by Amadeoıs quivering hand to
the candle, and the candle was lit.

Holding the candle high above his face, Amadeo carried it around the room,
seeking out every hidden corner and niche.  The Master was not in the
room.

³Come down to the library, Amadeo,² Marius called again.  

The boy stood stock still in the centre of the room.  Slowly, as if
sleepwalking, he put the candle down on the table.  He walked to the foot
of the bed and taking up a heavy robe that lay there, he put it on over
his nakedness, tying the belt tightly with a jerk.  He went to the table,
picked up the candle and left the room, still in his bare feet.  Amadeo
didnıt seem to feel the cold hard marble floors beneath his soles; not in
the hallway outside his bedchamber, not on the staircase, not at any point
during his slow silent trek to the library downstairs.  Soon Amadeo was
standing in front of his Master in the Masterıs enormous library.  

Amadeo knew that his Master had called him.  He knew the Masterıs voice
better than he knew his own. But he didnıt know how he had been called. 
And, now that he was here standing in front of a very serious-looking
Master, he began to wonder *why* he had been called.  It was very late. 
Usually the Master came to *him* when it was this late at night. 

As Amadeo gazed steadily into the Masterıs eyes, the Masterıs voice inside
his head said, ³Sit down, Amadeo.²  

Before the startled boy could recover, or could move a muscle to fetch a
chair, the matching armchair to the Masterıs own chair, positioned at the
opposite side of the fireplace, moved of its own accord across the floor
and drew up right behind Amadeo, facing the Masterıs chair on the
hearthrug.  Amadeo stared at the chair in blank horror.  

³Sit *down,* Amadeo,² the Masterıs voice spoke inside his head again, and
Amadeo swung around to stare at the Master.  

The Masterıs eyebrows were raised, questioning the boyıs reluctance to
sit.  Amadeo had never before seen quite the expression on the Masterıs
face that was on it now.  It was not angry, but it was very stern and cold
in its lifelessness.  

Not breaking eye contact, Amadeo put down his candle on the table and then
sat in the chair gingerly, perching uneasily on the edge.  Suddenly, some
unknown force pushed him back into the chair so that his slim back was
pressed against the chair cushions.  Amadeoıs eyes went wide with fear,
his body rigid with shock.

³Calm yourself, young one,² Marius said aloud, finally.  ³Everything will
be explained.²  Despite the serious subjects that they were going to
discuss, Marius tried to smile as gently as he could at his Amadeo.  

³I . . . I ca . . . I canıt!² Amadeo finally got out in a rush, stammering.

Marius shook his head.  He had better calm the young one or he wouldnıt be
able to take in anything Marius had to say to him.

Marius opened his arms with a slight nod of his head, and Amadeo flew off
the chair and into his embrace.  He held his beloved young one close to
him for a moment, pulling him into the enormous chair,  then settled him
within his arms, beside him on the soft cushions.

³We have some things that need to be talked about, Amadeo.  And I think it
would be a good idea if we talked about them tonight.² 


Amadeo calmed immediately the moment he felt Marius touch him.  ³Always
the gentlest touch from the Master,² Marius could feel the thought pass
through his young oneıs mind like a whisper.

³Amadeo . . . what am I?  Do you think that I am a man, the same as all
the other men who live in this city?²  

³No, Master,²  Amadeo said, after thinking for a moment.  ³You are
different. You are like no other person I have ever seen before. I do not
know what you are, except that you are my Master and you are . . .
special.²

Marius studied his beloved closely as he said the next words.  ³My love,
once, a very long time ago, I was a man.  But I was changed, changed by
another who was like I am now, changed into what you see before you.  What
I am now is not human, not alive as you know alive.  And most important of
all, I am immortal.²  Still no sign of fear from his boy, only deep
fascination.  ³To survive, Amadeo, to continue in my immortal existence, I
must drink blood, human blood.  Do you understand, Amadeo? I must kill
mortals to keep myself alive.²  Marius watched.  He waited.

Marius could see the word forming in the boyıs mind even before it passed
his lips.  

³Vampire,² his Amadeo whispered wide-eyed, studying Mariusı familiar white
face. It was a face that wore no expression, that might have been a marble
statue, except for the burning blue gaze that held his.  

Marius opened his lips very slowly and drew them back from his teeth in a
half grimace, half smile.  He wanted to reveal, not frighten, and he knew
exactly how frightening a vampire can look with lips drawn back, fangs
ready to strike.  

Amadeo barely breathed as he stared at the face of his beloved Master that
had suddenly transformed into the face of a monster.   Finally, he looked
deeply into the eyes of the monster, looking for something.  What he saw
there seemed to reassure him, because there was his small hand, suddenly,
hovering between their faces.  

Marius watched in surprise and wonder as a slim and gentle finger reached
up quite bravely and touched one of the fangs, as if to make sure it was
real.  The finger just touched the tip of the fang, felt its sharpness and
then the hand withdrew slightly to trace the outline of the cruel-looking
lips.   

At the touch of that finger something seemed to change in the face of the
monster.  The lips closed, the smooth white mask of the Masterıs face
returned.  Then those lips, those deadly lips, gently kissed the
fingertips that still rested against them.  

The kiss brought a smile to Amadeoıs face and he suddenly pulled one leg
beneath himself, raising himself higher in the big chair, and reaching up,
he brought his lips to his Masterıs in a sweet and loving kiss.

Marius was stunned.  He shouldnıt have been, but he was.  He had not
really believed that his Amadeo would understand, would be able to accept
it all . . . not all at once.  But he had.  His beloved had seen the
monster.  He knew its dreadful secret.  And he could still love it.  Love
this thing that Marius was . . . dead, unnatural, killer.  

There was no mistaking it.  The love was there in his Amadeoıs expression;
that sad, wistful, yet contented expression.  Marius could feel the love,
the trust, the complete acceptance in the mind of his young one.  Marius
was silent.  He lifted a hand to cup Amadeoıs cheek as he sat back on his
heel beside his Master.

³I love you, Amadeo,² Marius told him.

³And I love you, Master,² the boy said quietly, firmly, as if he wanted
there to be no doubt.

³Amadeo,² Marius spoke again.  ³You are a mortal boy.²

³You drink from me,² Amadeo interrupted him, as if only just coming to
this conclusion.  ³The kiss is so . . .  I feel such . . .,² he seemed
lost for words for an instant.  ³I didnıt realize you drank.²  He paused,
gazing at Marius in wonder.  ³I knew the bite and its strange feelings of
pain and pleasure, but . . .,² he trailed off again.  ³I didnıt know you
were taking blood.  You do, donıt you?  You take blood from me, in the
kiss?²

³Yes, Amadeo,² Marius agreed quietly.  Maybe he should have explained all
this before, Marius thought.  But he hadnıt wanted to frighten his
beloved.  Not until he knew he could accept it.  It seemed that time had
come without Marius realizing it.

³Thatıs why you always fall asleep afterwards,² Marius explained.  ³The
blood loss enduces a swoon.  You faint from the loss of blood,²  he added.

³But it doesnıt hurt,²  Amadeo stated.  Marius didnıt know whether he was
trying to reassure himself or his Master.

³No,² Marius agreed, ³it doesnıt hurt you.  Not the bite, and not the
blood loss.  Youıre a very strong boy and you recover from it quickly.  I
never take more than I think you can recover from quickly, Amadeo.  I do
not want to hurt you.  I would never do anything to hurt you.²  Marius
stopped for a moment to let that sink in.  He wanted his lover to believe
that.  He had to make him believe that.

Marius ran his hand over his belovedıs shining hair.  He smoothed the
tangles from the restless dreaming back behind his young loverıs ears. 
Amadeo closed his eyes for a moment in pleasure before opening them again.

³My blood does not feed you, Master, does it?  My blood is taken in love,
isnıt it?  I feel love when you take it from me, Master.  Do you feel the
love in it, Master?  Do you feel my love for you when you take my blood?²

Marius couldnıt believe the depth of understanding shining in his young
oneıs eyes.  He couldnıt believe the words passing from the childıs lips. 
How could one so young have such a perfect understanding of it all, the
whole of it?  So young . . .

³Yes, my love,²  Marius murmurred, trying to take it all in.  ³There is
love in the kiss, love in the blood.  I can feel your love.²  But there
was supposed to be a point to all these revelations he was making.  Marius
had almost forgotten the reason for these confidences.  ³The blood is all
things desirable to a vampire.  It is the source of all pleasure.²

³Yes,² Amadeo said, a warm, knowing smile curving his beautifully sculpted
mouth.  ³The kiss is the source of great pleasure . . . for me, as well,
Master.²

³Amadeo,² Marius said, trying to bring the conversation around to the
present dilemma. ³A vampire has many more powers than just the ability to
make his victims feel pleasure as he drains their blood for his survival. 
You saw me move that chair without touching it, didnıt you?²  Marius
pointed to the empty armchair facing them.  

Amadeo only nodded.  He looked at the chair.  Then he looked back up at
Marius again.  He seemed to realize that the lesson wasnıt over yet, as he
listened attentively.

³And you heard my voice inside your head up in the bedchamber, didnıt
you?²  Marius questioned.

Amadeo nodded again.

³A vampire has powers of the mind that he can use to move objects, speak
without moving his lips . . . and even see inside the minds of others,² 
Marius stated quietly, watching his young oneıs expression carefully. 
³When I came in tonight I was checking to make sure everyone was where
they should be with the powers of my mind, Amadeo, checking to see where
you were, when I . . .,²  Marius wasnıt quite sure how to continue.  He
pressed on.  ³When I found you by looking into your mind, Amadeo, I saw
something that perhaps I shouldnıt have seen.²  Marius stopped to see if
Amadeo understood what he was talking about.  His young one looked
bewildered for a moment, so Marius continued.  ³You were having a dream,
Amadeo.  It was a dream about us.²

Amadeoıs eyes widened, startled for a minute, as understanding dawned in
them. He gazed for a moment wide-eyed into Mariusı face, and then dropped
his eyes, flushing a beautiful pink colour.  He bent his head and pressed
his hot face into his Masterıs chest.  Marius tightened his arm around
Amadeo reassuringly, brushing a swift kiss onto the auburn hair.  He spoke
the next words very quietly, very gently.

³I am not a man any more, Amadeo,² he tried to explain, carefully.  ³My
body has been dead for centuries, my love.  My body is not able to feel
pleasure the way yours does.  The blood is my source of pleasure.  We
cannot love each other the way you wanted to do in that dream,² Marius
finished in a whisper.

Amadeo still hid his head against Mariusı broad chest, but one small hand
was reaching its way up the front of his coat, the fingers finally
brushing against the side of his Masterıs neck.

³Master, I . . .,² the embarrassed boy tried to explain himself, but
Marius didnıt need explanations.

³I know, sweet one.  I already know.  I should have realized.  I am not
mortal any more, but you are.  You are mortal, and young, and fast
becoming a man, with a manıs desires.  This is natural for you, beloved. 
I was blind not to see it before.  You need what every young mortal man
needs.  And I want you to have it.  But I cannot give it to you, sweet
one.  Much as I may want to . . . I canıt.²

Amadeo lifted his face and looked into the blue eyes that were blazing
with love for him.  ³You . . . could,² he whispered shyly.

³No, Amadeo.² Marius smiled a little smile.  ³It woudnıt be enough.  You
need more than that now.  You need the full flavour of mortal passion. 
You deserve it, young one.  If anyone deserves all the delights the mortal
world has to offer, it is you.²

³But . . .,² Amadeo started to protest.

³I know.  I know,² Marius hastened to calm him.  ³You love me.  And I love
you.  And if you love me, you will do these things because they are
important for me as well as for you.²

³Master?²  Amadeo was plainly bewildered.

³Soon the day will come, Amadeo, when I will ask you if you want to come
to me forever . . . become what I am, share my immortal world with me,²
Marius began.

³Yes!² Amadeo broke in.  Marius raised a hand and placed his fingers
gently but firmly against Amadeoıs lips.

³But . . . there are things I want you to experience before this happens. 
Experiences that you need, Amadeo, so that later there will be no regrets,
no looking back.²

Amadeo nodded, and Marius removed his fingers from his soft boyish lips.

³You will do this for both of us then, Amadeo.  You will look for women,
and look for men, as well.  You will taste mortal passion in their arms in
the days and nights to come.  There are lessons to be learned there, sweet
one.  Learn them all.²

Marius bent and kissed the soft lips of his young one.  Amadeoıs eyes closed.

³Come, beloved,² Marius said as he stood, lifting Amadeo in his arms with
one movement.  ³You can hardly keep your eyes open.  This is enough talk
for now.  I think we understand each other.²

Amadeo just pressed himself closer to his Masterıs chest and let himself
be carried like a very small boy up the stairs to bed.  But, as Marius
laid him on the bed, Amadeoıs eyes opened again and he locked his arms
around Mariusı neck.

³Amadeo,² Marius said, amused and trying not to sound impatient.  ³You
need sleep, Amadeo,² Marius tried to sound firm and insistent.  He knew he
had failed as his belovedıs arms tightened their grip.  This one knew all
his weaknesses, it seemed.

³Please . . .,²  Amadeoıs voice was sweetly seductive in its
plaintiveness.  Marius marvelled at the potent mixture of sadness and
longing that such a young untutored voice could express with just one
word, and he succumbed . . . as always.

Marius leaned towards his beloved and kissed him, his own longing
expressed just as clearly in the heated movement of his hard lips against
his loverıs soft, yielding ones.  Amadeo responded sweetly, moving his
lips against his Masterıs in a mobile exploration of their hard surface.

After a few moments, Amadeo pulled back and smiled into Mariusı face.  He
lowered his eyes and started to unbutton his Masterıs coat.  Mariusı
surprise was evident on his face.

³Amadeo,²  Marius said, a question and a warning blending in his voice and
his expression.

His young one just smiled.  ³Let me take off your coat,² he suggested,
calmly, sweetly, and he sounded so reasonable, Marius let him unbutton the
coat, slide it off his shoulders, and lay it over the ornately carved
footboard of the bed.  Marius even let him loosen and remove the cloth he
wore around his neck.  But when the agile fingers reached for the buttons
of his shirt, Marius stopped them after only one had been undone.  

³Thatıs enough, Amadeo,² Marius insisted, and this time Amadeo acquiesced
to the hidden warning in the warm voice.

³Yes, Master,²  he said and melted bonelessly onto the covers of the bed,
his eyes never leaving Mariusı face.  ³I love you, Master,² he said, and a
smile curved his lips that immediately drew Marius down to cover them with
his own.  He did not lift his mouth from Amadeoıs mouth until one of the
small hands clutched at the side of his face.  Mariusı lips released the
panting boy and Amadeo gulped in air.  Turning his head,  he pulled his
Masterıs face to himself, both hands now in Mariusı hair, urging his
Master to bend to his slim throat.

³Amadeo,² Marius muttered, pushing aside the collar of the warm robe,
enjoying the scent rising from his young oneıs warm skin, nuzzling into
the softness of the exposed neck.  Opening his mouth, he sucked on the
vein for a heart-stopping moment before he slipped his fangs into it. 
Marius moaned deep in his throat as the blood poured into his mouth.  


........................................................................................................................................................

³What does it feel like, Master,² his Amadeo asked as he continued to
softly caress the hard outlines of Mariusı musclature with his slim
fingers.  Marius watched in fascination and amusement.

Marius had fallen asleep after releasing the young one from his vampire
kiss.  When he woke some time later, his heavy immovable preternatural
hand was still tangled in the auburn tresses of his lover.    Waking
before his Master, Amadeo had been held captive by that restraining hand,
and so, to amuse himself in his captivity, he had finished unbuttoning
Mariusı fine linen shirt, pushed as much of it as he could off the broad
white shoulders, and, as he had in his dream, began to explore the
previously hidden territory.  The gentle exploration had woken Marius.

³Like a warm breeze, Amadeo,² Marius whispered.  ³Like the softest summer
breeze trailing its gentle tendrils across the surface of my skin.²

³No pressure,² said Amadeo.

³No,² Marius agreed.  ³No sense of weight at all.  Your hand feels like a
feather brushing my flesh . . . just as insubstantial.  Even if you were
to hit me with the palm of your hand, it would still feel the same . . . a
feather . . . insubstantial.  Thatıs how hard, how lifeless I am.² 
Mariusı voice was matter-of-fact.

³Is it pleasurable, Master?² asked Amadeo.

³Well, yes, I suppose it is,² he answered thoughtfully.  ³As pleasurable
as this is for you.²  Marius propped himself up on one elbow, and bending
his head so that his long white hair swung forward to brush his cheeks and
Amadeoıs shoulder, he parted his lips and blew out a long continuous
stream of cool scentless breath across Amadeoıs face and neck.

³A bit cool for a summer breeze,² Amadeo observed.

³Yes,² agreed Marius, smiling.  ³The difference between you and I in that
regard is the heat of your mortal blood.  Mine has no heat to it at all. 
Only when I am filled with mortal blood, immediately after feeding, is
there any warmth at all to my skin, or my breath.²

³Yes.  You even look different after we have shared the kiss,² Amadeo said
thoughtfully, his eyes running over Mariusı face.  ³But itıs gone now . .
. the change.²

³Yes.  Itıs been a few hours.  The flush of human blood doesnıt last long.²

³My blood,² Amadeo stated quietly.

³Yes.  Your blood.  Inside me.²  Marius watched the reaction to his words
on his belovedıs face.  Emotion seemed to fill it for a moment, and a
brightness in his warm brown eyes heralded tears.

³I love you, Master,²  Amadeo whispered.  There was a slight tremour to
the words.  ³I want you to have *all* my blood.²  He wiped quickly at his
eyes, to try and hide the tears, as if he did not want them to get in the
way of what he was going to say next, as if he wanted to be taken
completely seriously.  ³I want to have *your* blood inside of me.² 

³Soon, my darling one,² Marius promised.  ³Soon.²


...........................................................................................................................................................

Amadeo sat very still on the comfortable armchair in the very centre of
the studio.  He was surrounded on all sides by blazing candelabra.  The
candelabra were not too close, so he couldnıt feel their heat.  In fact,
they were placed a good distance from him, taking up most of the room in
the enormous studio.  Consequently, the light that fell on him was not as
bright as that of daylight, but more of a warm glow, an aura, a sweet
benediction from heaven . . . a heaven filled with black-winged angels.

Marius had actually finished the portrait some minutes ago, but he was so
enjoying the beautiful scene before him, that he hadnıt told his model
yet.  Yes, his beautiful Amadeo, his sweet saint, his blessed angel . .
.   Marius couldnıt tear his eyes away long enough to set aside his
brush.  He still held it in one hand, while the paint started to dry on
it.

It suddenly seemed to occur to Amadeo that he hadnıt seen the Master lift
that brush for quite a few moments now.  Perhaps he needed a break. 
Amadeo felt like he would go mad if he couldnıt get up and walk around for
a few minutes.  His back felt so stiff, and it was aching dreadfully.

³Do you want to take a rest now, Master?²  Amadeoıs voice was wistful,
questioning.   ³Could I go get a drink of water, please, Master?² 
Anything to get him out of this chair, Amadeo thought.

Marius had been listening to the thoughts of his beloved with one part of
his mind while the other gazed obsessively at the sight before him. 
Amadeoıs voice speaking aloud brought Marius out of his contemplation, and
he smiled at the young boy with the wide pleading eyes.

³Of course you may, Amadeo.²  Marius motioned with one hand for Amadeo to
come to his side.  ³Itıs all finished, darling one.²

Amadeo came to stand beside Marius and stared at the painting; the images
of the dark angels, and himself at their mercy.

³I donıt look afraid at all in the painting, Master,² Amadeo said.

³*Are* you afraid, Amadeo?²  Marius asked, putting one arm around Amadeoıs
waist and drawing him closer.

³No,² Amadeo said calmly. He looked into his Masterıs face.  ³I want to be
with you.²




Amadeo and the oldest of the other apprentices, Marco, sat at the heavy
wooden table across from each other, at the end of the mid-day meal, and
discussed the Master's supply of pigments. The other boys had already left
the kitchen and were headed back to the studio.

"The Master is planning to use that same particular shade of blue on all
the angels' robes, Marco.  I heard him say it only last night."

"Yes.  I heard him also.  So?"   Marco wiped up the last of the delicious
pasta sauce with what was left of his crust of bread.  They didn't have
pasta very often, but when they did the cook made a sauce that was the
closest thing to what the angels must eat in Heaven itself.  It was so
good, Marco not only made sure that no drop was spilled, but also that not
a drop was ever left upon his plate.

"So?"  Amadeo echoed.  "So there is not enough to last for all of the
angels the Master has planned.  The sky in that painting is positively
filled with angels!"

"Well,"  conceded Marco, "that's probably true.  But, he's not going to
paint them all tonight, is he?  There's plenty of time to get the rest of
the blue pigment before he runs out.  It's so nice out today, the last
place I want to be is in that musty old shop choking on the dust from all
those smelly old dyes.  I thought maybe we could go to the piazza.  There's
a pantomime playing there that will only be there for a few more days.  Or
we could go to the church and listen to the castrati choir sing.  They're
rehearsing for an important concert.  I heard some ladies talking about it
last week."

"But, Marco," Amadeo admonished.  "None of that is work.  We should at
least do *some* work preparing for the Master's painting.  We do not live
in his palazzo just to enjoy ourselves."

"You could," Marco stated, staring directly into Amadeo's eyes.  It was a
challenge, and he made sure Amadeo knew it.  "He would be just as pleased
with you if you stayed in bed all day and never lifted a finger."

"No, he wouldn't," Amadeo argued, not about to let the remarks pass.  "I
would not be comfortable taking advantage of my position like that.  And
the Master would know it.  And it would make him uncomfortable too."

"Humph," Marco made a soft sound of disbelief.

"It's true," Amadeo assured him.  "I know you don't understand the
relationship between the Master and I.  I know you're jealous of it.  But
you have no need to be.  It does not affect your relationship with the
Master at all.  It is the same as it has always been.  That's the way he
wants it.  That's the way that is best for you, and you know it."  Amadeo
stared into Marco's black eyes and the boy stared back.  "And it shouldn't
affect your relationship with me either," he stated quietly.

Marco was startled at Amadeo's words; that he would say such things aloud,
here in the kitchen.  Marco quickly glanced around and saw what Amadeo
already knew, that the enormous room was deserted.  The cook was banging
pots in the scullery next door.  They were alone.

Marco swallowed and made a sudden decision to speak his heart.

"Then why must we hide it?" he demanded, a mixture of anger and hurt and
nervous fear in his voice.  "Why must we always meet in secret, outside the
palazzo?  Why can't I just come to your room?"

Amadeo looked away from the intensity in the black eyes.  "Because it is
not *my* room, Marco."  He looked back at Marco, and the liquid brown of
his own eyes were deep and unfathomable to the other boy.  "It is the
Master's room."

"And when you are in it, you belong completely to him, is that it?"  Marco
sounded angry.

"I belong completely to him wherever I am, Marco."  Amadeo's voice wasn't
intentionally cruel, but he couldn't keep a certain coldness from entering
it.  The pot-banging in the scullery had stopped.  They didn't have much
more time to talk.

"Then why do you pretend to be lovers with me?"  Marco's voice was dark
with bitterness and pain.

"It's very simple, Marco,"  Amadeo said.  Finally, for the first time in
the entire conversation, he smiled.  Marco was mesmerized by the change in
the face opposite him.  It had gone from the cold anger of a devil to the
warm compassion of an angel in the blink of an eye.  What magic.  What
beauty.

"I love you,"  Amadeo shocked Marco with his declaration.  Marco just
stared and stared, his gaze never wavering from the beautiful face.  He
couldn't believe what he heard.

"Don't look so surprised," Amadeo whispered now, leaning closer across the
table.  "You thought I could be lovers with you for all these months
without falling in love with you?" Amadeo teased, looking at Marco with a
tender smile on his face.

The cook came back into the kitchen carrying a tall pile of pots and pans
in her arms.  When she saw them still sitting at the table, she began to
scold.

"Haven't you finished there yet, you boys?  You think the dishwashing will
wait all day upon your pleasure?"

"Signora, you have been most patient," Amadeo rose from his place.  "We'll
take these dishes to the washing tub for you, shall we?" he suggested.

The signora was scandalized.  "No you will not!  What would the Master have
to say?  The idea!  You will both get out of my kitchen at once.  Out with
you!" she ordered, waving them out into the passage, standing guard at the
door as if they might try to sneak back in.

The two boys laughed at her vehemence, and then smiling at each other they
headed arm in arm down the long corridor to the studio.   The three younger
boys were busy trying to coax a cat to come down from the top of a high
wooden cupboard.  They were not having any luck.  This particular tabby had
been the victim of these boys' playful tail-pulling once too often to
respond without an incentive.

"Amadeo and I must go into the city this afternoon to get more pigments,"
Marco told
the other boys.

"Why is it *you* always get to go?" asked the youngest, who loved going
into the city and watching the crowds milling in the piazza.

"Because I'm the next oldest, of course," Marco explained.  "When you are
the oldest, you will be the one chosen to go."  It all sounded so
reasonable, young Gino was satisfied.  Besides, he liked the idea of one
day being the oldest, with all its privileges.

"What do we do while you are gone?" one of the other two asked.

"Well, the Master's favourite brushes could use an extra good cleaning.
Why don't you see to that and afterwards just go play in the courtyard.
The Master didn't leave any special instructions for today, so I don't
think you need to worry about taking the afternoon for some play."  He
looked at Amadeo.  "We won't be gone all afternoon.  We'll come out and
fetch you when we get back and you can help us store the new pigments."
Amadeo nodded in agreement.

"I must go speak to Angelo about the use of the gondola," Amadeo said and
left the room.

Marco stared after him.  They were going to use the gondola.  They could
have walked.  It wasn't that far.  But Amadeo had chosen to take the
gondola.

He could feel the familiar excited butterflies start to flutter around
inside his stomach.  The gondola was their trysting place.  Whether it was
tied up at the base of the wide canal staircase or whether they took it
down one of the wide waterways or narrow canals into the city, they always
managed to end up alone in the gondola.  And then would come the loving:
sweet, and urgent, and wonderful.

Amadeo's words in the kitchen came back to him in a rush, and they heated
the feelings inside him even more.  It was going to be a trial sitting
beside Amadeo in the gondola on the way into the city as if no sensual
adventure awaited them there.  And the adventure was going to be all the
more exciting for the wait.

................................................................................
...........................................................................

The two boys stood side by side in the gondola as it moved through the
canals, under bridge after bridge.  They each steadied themselves with a
hand on the roof of the little cabin which enclosed almost a third of the
gondola's length.

Amadeo could remember clearly the first time he had been inside the dark
depths of that cabin, held captive by his Master's first secret kiss.  And
since then, all the times with Marco, through the late winter and all
through the spring.  Amadeo glanced at Marco, not being able to refrain
from letting his eyes roam over the slim and youthfully muscular body.
Marco, feeling Amadeo's eyes on him, turned to gaze back.  Amadeo quickly
glanced away.

He raised his eyes to the tops of the buildings they were passing.  Yes,
there were the spires of the church.  They were almost there.  In another
moment the gondola slowed, and he could finally see the clock tower of the
piazza, soaring even above the church spires.  A wide quay spread out
before them, with three gondolas tied up, deserted.

Amadeo had always wondered why these seemingly abandoned gondolas were
never stolen while their owners were absent from them.  Angelo, the
Master's gondolier had explained that gondolas were as individual as their
owners.  All the gondoliers knew who owned which gondola.  Someone seen
steering a gondola that wasn't theirs was always immediately stopped and
questioned at the first quay they tied up to.  As a result, theft of
gondolas had never been a very great problem.  And in their case, the
Master's gondola was so distinctive that everyone in Venice knew it by
sight.

Angelo took them close to the wide stone steps and the boys leapt out.

"We'll be going to the pigment shop and then we want to go see the
pantomime in the piazza.  When would you like us back, Angelo?" Amadeo
asked.

"Whenever you're ready, young Master," Angelo deferred to him.  "You take
your time.  We won't be missed until sunset."

"We'll leave the piazza when the tower clock strikes four.  That will give
us plenty of time," Amadeo assured him.

"That sounds fine, Master Amadeo."  Angelo nodded his head and watched the
boys run off in the direction of the square.  He was thinking that he would
have enough time to have a drink or two at the tavern just down the next
alley.  He secured the gondola and was off before it had even settled on
its ropes.

Amadeo and Marco dashed into another alley a little further along the dark
and narrow street and cautiously looked back towards the quay.  They
watched Angelo head off for the tavern, and then turned and looked at each
other.  Identical smiles spread across their young faces and the boys tore
out into the street again, heading for the pigment seller's shop.

Less than half an hour later the boys were coming back down the street
towards the quay, their arms laden with boxes.  They paused at the entrance
to the alleyway down which Angelo had gone.  Then they continued towards
the quay.  Amadeo held the bobbing gondola as steady as he could with his
weight while Marco lifted in and stacked the boxes they had been carrying.
When he was done, he turned and held out a hand to Amadeo standing pulling
on the ropes on the quay.

Amadeo ignored the hand and jumped in, setting the boat quaking at its
moorings.  He chuckled at Marco's cry of alarm and ducked into the little
cabin.  Marco dipped his head and entered as well, pulling the heavy velvet
curtains across and then turning towards Amadeo in the shadows.

Amadeo lay sprawled back against the soft cushions on the wide tapestried
gondola seat.  It was a sumptuously appointed gondola and its woodwork
gleamed.  But here inside the little cabin with the curtains drawn it was
shadowy and quite hot from the heat of the afternoon sun shining down on
its dark wooden roof.  The closed curtains kept any breeze from entering.

Marco stood with his back to the curtains, and they brushed against the
backs of his legs seductively.  Amadeo lay half seated, half sprawled, with
his legs apart in a most provocative pose.  His hands were busy loosening
his tunic.  Marco watched, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.  Amadeo
removed the tunic to reveal a fine linen shirt beneath that clung to his
arms, and chest and waist and hips and thighs . . .

Marco launched himself at his lover.  He used his weight to press Amadeo
under him, to press him against the cushions urgently.  He brought up one
knee and pressed it between his lover's legs while he grasped Amadeo's head
in both hands and began to press hot, hungry kisses onto those seductive
lips.

Marco's senses reeled.  The taste of Amadeo, the feel of him, the scent of
him was almost too much to take in.  His lover always smelled so good.  He
had access to hot baths and scented soaps that Marco never did.  Marco had
never bathed as much in his life as he had since he had become Amadeo's
only lover, and they were always cold baths.  But he didn't mind.  He
wanted to please Amadeo, as much as Amadeo pleased him.

He had been amazed when Amadeo had stopped searching out older, more
experienced lovers among the men and women of the city.  Marco had often
watched from hidden vantage points as sometimes they came to get Amadeo in
their gondolas, right at the palazzo steps.

The first time Amadeo had approached him, Marco had been nervous and
clumsy.  But then there had been a second time, and a third.  And finally
it had occurred to him that the fine gondolas weren't coming to get Amadeo
any more.  And he and Amadeo were sneaking out more often in the late
afternoon when all was quiet and the household staff were dozing.

They would sneak out, and slip into the gondola tied at the bottom of the
steps, unnoticed by anyone.  And there Amadeo would be so tender with him,
teaching him all the things that his handsome and beautiful city lovers had
taught him.  Marco had loved every minute of it.  And the strange but
wonderful thing was, Amadeo seemed to love it too.

Now, Marco was getting ever more frantic in his movements as he slid his
hands under the linen shirt that was clinging obscenely to Amadeo's
sweat-slicked chest.  He was trying to remove it but Amadeo kept catching
his hands and holding them in his own.  Marco half-growled, half-sobbed in
frustration.

Suddenly, Amadeo pushed Marco away from him.  The surprise of this action
caught Marco off guard and before he realized what was happening, Amadeo
had pinned him to the cushions at the other end of the seat.  Amadeo was
slightly heavier, and more solidly built in the shoulders than Marco, and
he held Marco easily as he squirmed.  All Marco could do with his pinioned
arms was raise his hands and clutch at Amadeo's waist.

"Amadeo, God in Heaven," Marco panted, trying to raise himself up on his
elbows and finding it impossible.  "Please don't tease me like this,
Amadeo.  I can't stand it.  Look, look at this."  Marco raised his hands
and Amadeo released some of the pressure off his arms so that he could move
them slightly.

Marco lost no time in untying his leggings and shoving them down to reveal
his wet, swollen penis.  Amadeo stared at it for a silent aching moment
before finally raising his eyes to Marco's face.

The eyes were so dark, and the expression so unreadable, and the shadows on
the face from the darkened cabin so ominous, that Marco began to shake.
"Please, Amadeo.  Please.  Let me . . ."

Marco didn't get any further than that, because at that moment Amadeo
released his arms and, bending over double in the darkness, buried his head
in Marco's lap, taking the hard penis into his mouth.

Marco's strangled voice tried to cry out "Amadeo" but it didn't make it
past his throat.  He had done this many times to Amadeo, but Amadeo had
never before done it to him.  Never in all those months.  He had always
wondered why.  Now, he didn't care.

Marco was lost.  He didn't know if he was on a gondola or riding the waves
on the sea.  All he knew was that a heat had enveloped him, and that the
heat was centered in the very pit of his belly.  All he knew was that the
sucking on his penis was creating the most incredible wave of sensation
rising right up from his toes to tingle in each strand of his hair.  And
that wave was growing.  It was swelling.  It was going to crest any moment
now and he was going to surely drown.  Instead, it lifted him, and suddenly
he was there, inside the sun, exposed for all the universe to see, a
burning, pulsing star ablaze in the sky.

.................................................

Marco was being kissed.  Soft, warm kisses from soft, warm lips were being
pressed against the curve of his eyebrow, the smooth skin over his
cheekbones, the corner of his mouth, the crease behind his ear.  Marco
sighed and opened his eyes.  There was a pair of liquid brown eyes staring
into his.  Amadeo.

Marco raised one hand with an effort to stroke the face so close to his.
He slid his fingers into the rich auburn hair; slid them in deep and took
hold of a good handful.  He used the leverage to pull that beautiful face
down to his and brought their mouths together in a passionate kiss;
open-mouthed, devouring, hungry.  Ah, Marco, he thought to himself.  How
can you still be hungry after *that*?  But he was.  He could never seem to
get enough of the banquet that was Amadeo.

Amadeo finally broke the kiss and his mouth moved wetly along Marco's jaw,
stopped to suck at  Marco's ear, and then moved down the warm column of
Marco's throat.

For a moment Marco concentrated on catching his breath, and then slid his
hands possessively down over his lover's chest.  His fingers lifted the
linen shirt away from the hot body and found the soft belly underneath.  He
pressed the knuckles of one hand into the yielding flesh and he used the
other hand to pull on the lacings of Amadeo's leggings, undoing them,
loosening them and finally sliding that industrious hand into them.

Amadeo had gotten as far as Marco's bare shoulder with his hungry mouth,
unlacing and pushing aside the tunic Marco wore as it got in his way.  He
had been sucking on the muscular ridge when he felt Marco's warm hand close
around him.

Amadeo's strong fingers clenched and unclenched into the muscles of Marco's
upper arms, gripping through the worn fabric that still covered them, as
Marco's fingers explored the length of Amadeo's erection; first clasping
firmly around the base, then stroking up further and further to tease
around the curve of the head, and finally closing around the head with a
thumb slowly moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth across
the opening at the tip.

Amadeo's sucking mouth opened wider and he slowly sank his teeth into the
firm shoulder muscle, unable to help himself.

Marco was so intent on the sensations of pulsing, quivering wetness being
transmitted through his fingers from Amadeo's penis, that he barely noticed
the pain in his shoulder until it had started to radiate up into his neck
and down into his arm.  It had only felt like an ache at first, and then a
burning in the muscle.  But now pain was shooting through the muscle and
forgetting what he was doing, Marco reached with both hands to grab
Amadeo's head and rip it away from his shoulder.

"Amadeo!"  Marco cried out, and his lover released him.  Marco's pulling
had Amadeo moving backwards away from him and as soon as Amadeo let go,
Marco released his head.  The momentum sent Amadeo falling back away from
Marco against the cushions and his head continued back to bump against the
side of the gondola.

Marco's hand went to his shoulder and came back with a smudge of blood on
it.  Before he could say anything, Amadeo had sat up again and taking the
hand in both of his, brought it to his mouth and proceeded to lick the
blood from the fingers.  Marco watched, fascinated, as his lover sucked at
his hand and played his wet tongue between the brown fingers and over the
palm slowly, making love to it.

The pain in Marco's shoulder was forgotten as Amadeo slipped his hands
under Marco's tunic and pulled it off of him.  Marco watched Amadeo's mouth
as it worked its way up his arm, sucking at his veins, testing the firmness
of the muscles under the skin with gentle bites and nibbles.  Marco sat
still and closed his eyes, drinking in the sensations as Amadeo once again
reached the wounded shoulder and began to suck on the marks he had made in
the flesh, lapping at the blood that had seeped through the broken skin.

Finally, Amadeo's mouth touched Marco's and they kissed tenderly.  Marco
opened his eyes to see the worried look in his lover's.

"I'm sorry,"  Amadeo started to apologize, "I don't know what hap . . ."

Marco pressed his fingers to Amadeo's soft lips, cutting off his words.

"It's all right, Amadeo."  He smiled reassuringly.  "I sometimes feel like
I want to eat you up, too."  His smile spread into a grin that formed two
slashing dimples in his flushed cheeks.  "I've just never had the nerve to
actually take a bite.  I should have known you would be the first to give
in to that temptation."

Amadeo pushed the auburn hair out of his astonished eyes as he stared at
Marco.  Then responding to the teasing, he blushed.  A grin grew out of the
blushing smile and soon the two of them were kissing again, playfully and
sweetly, as they helped each other out of the rest of their clothes.

It took some time, but they had the time.  And so, as each item was
removed, the skin underneath had to be admired and then explored with soft
touches and soft kisses and occasionally, the teasing tasting of a tongue.
By the time they were done they were both sweating profusely.  As their
heated bodies finally slid together, they both moaned; Amadeo into the side
of Marco's neck, and Marco into Amadeo's tangled hair.

"I want you now," Amadeo whispered hoarsely into Marco's ear and then
plunged his tongue into it.

Marco tightened his arms around his lover and shivered.  "Yes," was all he
said.

Amadeo lifted himself up on his elbows and gazed down into the coal black
eyes.

"Yes," Marco whispered again.  "Take it all, Amadeo.  Love me."

Amadeo lowered his head and began kissing Marco; soft kisses which turned
into hotter kisses, which turned into deeper kisses.  Marco reached for the
passion pouring out of his lover; reached with his lips, his tongue, his
whole mouth reaching, reaching . . .

As they continued to devour each other's mouths, they began to shift
against each other and against the cushions of the gondola seat.  Amadeo
grabbed his linen shirt from where it had been discarded and slid it under
Marco as his lover lifted his hips off the seat.  There must not be any
telltale stains left in the gondola.  Marco knew the rules.   No one must
know they were lovers.  No one must suspect.

Marco spread his thighs and Amadeo slid between them like silk.  Marco
ached with longing at the familiarity of the movements: Amadeo kissing him;
Amadeo caressing him; Amadeo's fingers seeking him out, preparing him,
arousing him to a pitch of excitement that haunted him in his dreams.  He
belonged to Amadeo.  Completely.  And Amadeo had no qualms about taking
what belonged to him.

When his lover finally entered him, Marco sighed, lost for a moment in the
intensity of the pleasure.

"Oh, yes," he murmurred in a breathless whisper.  "Ohhhhhh. . . Amadeo," he
drew the name out of himself slowly, savouring the syllables as he savoured
the slow slide of his Amadeo taking possession of him.  Then he couldn't
say anything more.

Amadeo drew slowly back; oh, so slowly, then plunged deeply, powerfully,
almost frantically into his lover's body.  There was no hesitation now; no
turning back.  Marco grasped Amadeo's arms tightly with both hands and gave
himself up to it.   He lifted himself with both feet to meet each thrust as
Amadeo ground himself into his lover's body.

It didn't take long.  They were so ready, so much more than ready for what
they had to give each other.   They were so familiar by now with every
nuance of each other's arousal, each other's journey to the pinnacle that
there was never any uncertainty about the path.  It just happened, again
and again, every time they came together.

Marco had reached the point where he knew in some pleasure-drugged haze
that either he, or Amadeo, was going to explode.  He felt Amadeo plunge one
last time and felt him convulse from head to foot.  Amadeo cried out, one
short sharp cry, and when Marco felt the pulse of his lover's release deep
inside him, his own body took over and welcomed it with an involuntary
embrace of its own.

The piercing pleasure of that instant held him for a moment like a
paralyzing shock that he felt throughout his whole body.  And then finally
he became aware of the semen spurting out of him, and the shudders rippling
through his body, and Amadeo collapsing on top of him.

He enjoyed the stickiness that slid between them, melded their skin into
one wet sensitized surface.  Marco felt that they might be melted together
by the heat of their shared passion.  He wished it was true.  All he could
do now was wrap his arms around his lover and cradle that precious body
with his own for as long as Amadeo would allow.

It was never long enough for Marco.  Soon Amadeo's penis was limp and
sliding out of him.  Marco enjoyed the wet slide of it  between his thighs.
As Amadeo turned onto his back, Marco shifted over slightly on the seat so
that his lover could lay beside him, between himself and the seat back.  He
lifted his arm and pulled Amadeo into the circle of it.  Amadeo shifted
onto his side and snuggled against Marco, his head coming to rest on
Marco's shoulder, the beautifully flushed face tipped up to study the
expression in the black eyes.

"Was it what you wanted?" Amadeo asked.

"You know it was," Marco said and smiled.  "You always know."  Amadeo's
languid, satisfied expression in response to his words made Marco want to
laugh.

"I like to hear you say it,"  Amadeo mouthed into his shoulder, turning to
caress it with a slow gentle kiss from soft dry lips.

"My body longs for you night and day, Amadeo," Marco declared.  If his
lover needed reassurances, he would give them.  "I long for the moments
when you spend your passion inside my body.  It ignites the pleasure of my
own body, every time . . . . . every time.  It makes me believe that
perhaps Heaven really is already here on earth, in your arms.  I could die
happily at this moment knowing I've been there with you."

Amadeo lifted himself up on one elbow and gazed astonished into Marco's eyes.

"I've never heard you talk like that before.  Where did you learn those
words?  Who taught you to say things like that?"  There was a glint in
Amadeo's eyes.  Marco loved it.  He loved the slight possessiveness that
Amadeo was showing, he so seldom showed any.

"I've been listening to you," he confessed.  "You and the Master discuss
the poetry that you read to him.  I listen to you reading to him, sometimes
long into the night.  I'm always there.  Sometimes the Master notices me
and sometimes he doesn't.  If he notices me, I can tell by the way he talks
to you.  He talks to you differently if he thinks someone is listening.
But I always leave if I know I've been noticed.  I don't want to make him
angry.  I just want to learn some of the things that make you love him so
much."

This confession, far from reassuring his lover, deepened the look of
concern on his face.  Amadeo actually looked worried.  Marco didn't
understand why this was.  If the Master wanted Marco punished for listening
at keyholes, he could have done it before now.

Marco was not afraid of the Master.  He had lived in the palazzo so long he
felt he had always belonged there, and therefore, belonged to the Master,
just as Amadeo did.  Deep in his heart Marco loved the Master like a parent
he had never had, the father he had never known.

"Don't do this any more, Marco," Amadeo insisted vehemently.

"Why not?"  Marco argued.  "The Master knows I listen.  If he doesn't mind,
why do you?"

"Just don't any more," his lover insisted again.  "Marco?  Please?"

Marco studied Amadeo for a moment.  He was unusually serious about this.
He did not like the worried look in Amadeo's eyes.  Perhaps he would do as
he was asked, for Amadeo's sake.

"All right.  All right.  Don't worry any more.  I won't listen in again.  I
promise."  Marco waited to see if his words would have the desired effect.
They did.

"Thank you, Marco," Amadeo said, and leaning up on his elbow suddenly, he
kissed Marco fervently and passionately for a long moment.  "I love you and
I wouldn't want to see you hurt by the Master's anger.  Ever."

They looked into each other's eyes as silent minutes passed in the heat of
the enclosed cabin.  Emotion passed from brown eyes into the black ones and
then was returned.

"We should get cleaned up now," Amadeo said.  "Get dressed and go have a
drink at the tavern."

Marco knew they should, but he didn't want to, not without a few more
kisses.  He pulled himself up, and pushing Amadeo back against the
cushions, proceeded to lick at the stickiness that coated his lover's
abdomen.  Amadeo lay still and closed his eyes, enjoying the attention of
Marco's agile tongue over the surface of his sensitive skin.  But when
Marco moved to take the limp penis into his hot mouth, Amadeo took his face
in both hands and pulled him away.

"You are insatiable," he scolded Marco.

"What does that mean?" grinned his lover.

"It means if I let you do that, we'll never have time for some wine at the
tavern," Amadeo told him with mock anger.  He pushed Marco back down on the
seat and bending over him, proceeded to give him the same treatment Marco
had been engaged in.  Only the licking seemed to have a markedly more
intense effect on Marco than it had on Amadeo.  By the time Amadeo's mouth
had reached Marco's groin, his lover was hard, already wet and ready for
release.

Amadeo gazed in amazement at the beautifully erect penis.  His was still
nestled in his lap.  He couldn't imagine having the energy to come three
times in less than two hours, but Marco seemed to have it.

He looked up into the wide midnight darkness of Marco's gaze.

"What do you want this time, Marco?"  Amadeo asked with a wry smile just
touching the corners of his mouth.

"Do we have time?" Marco asked cryptically, but Amadeo knew what he meant.

"Did you happen to hear whether the clock tower has chimed out the hour
yet?" he asked in return.

"No," Marco confessed.

"Then I can't tell you whether we have enough time," said Amadeo.  Marco's
smile fell from his face.  He knew what that meant.  Amadeo always erred on
the side of caution when it came to the timing of their meetings.  He
always assumed there wasn't enough time.

But, Fate seemed to be smiling on Marco that afternoon.  Before he could
say anything in acquiesence  to the implied denial, the sound of the clock
tower's chimes could be heard on the air announcing the hour.  The chimes
were followed by three long reverberating "bongs" from the largest of the
giant bells, and Marco's smile broke like sunshine across his face as he
looked into Amadeo's eyes.

What he saw there did not reassure him.  Despite the fact that they did
indeed have time, that they had another whole hour before Angelo was
expected back, Marco could not find any trace of anticipation or desire in
his lover's face.  His hopes faded as he gazed at his lover's sombre
expression.

"Please," Marco pleaded, propping himself up on one elbow, reaching out
with his free hand to caress his lover's beautiful face.  He wanted to make
love again so much he was surprised at himself.  For some reason lately,
each time they did, Marco felt it was going to be their last.  The
uncertainty, the fear, fed his desire like nothing else ever had.  He was
desperately trying to imprint his lover's presence upon his body; upon his
very soul.  And this was the only way he knew how.

"Amadeo?"  The aching desire was evident in Marco's voice, his expression,
and the arching strain of his erect penis.   He sat up and reached for
Amadeo's hands.  He brought them to his body, placing them on his erection;
pleading with everything he had in him.   "Please?"

Amadeo's warm hands closed around him, and Marco closed his eyes and sighed
with relief.  He had been so afraid.  Amadeo had never refused him before.
Then again, Marco had never pleaded like that before.  Marco opened his
eyes again.  The hands were holding him warm and secure in their grasp, but
they hadn't moved to caress him.  There was a strange aloofness in the dark
brown eyes studying him.  He wanted reassurance.  He wasn't getting any.

"Amadeo?"  the question was implicit in the strained voice.

"Do you want to take me?"  Amadeo asked in a voice that was low and almost
impatient.  Marco's hopes for passion and tenderness were disappearing.
This was not the voice of a hungry lover.  Marco's disappointment was
crushing and he put both hands up to his face and hid in their sweaty
palms, trembling.

"I only want what you want," he mumbled into his fingers, not wanting to
see that expression any more, not knowing what to do to change the mood of
his lover.

There was a heavy silence in the gondola.  It stretched, and stretched, and
stretched . . . . . . .until finally it was broken by a sigh that seemed to
fill the small hot cabin with unspoken but intense emotions.

The warm gentle hands squeezed lightly on Marco's erection and then
released it and reached out to take the hands away from Marco's face.
Amadeo looked into the shimmering wells of eyes that were on the brink of
tears.  His eyes brimmed as well in response to the heartbreaking
uncertainty of that look.

"I want you to have me, Marco," Amadeo told him.  "I want you to have
whatever I can give you."  Finally a softness entered Amadeo's eyes, and
the slight curve returned to his lips.  "Take me, Marco," he added, with a
strange undercurrent in his voice, almost of defiance, breaking through
that seemingly calm acceptance of the fact that they were going to do this;
do it because Marco wanted it.

Amadeo got up and pulled Marco after him, off the seat.  He repositioned
his damp linen shirt and lay down on top of it, pulling up his knees,
parting his thighs, holding out his arms to his young lover.

Marco stared at him for a long moment.  This was different.  There was some
strange tension in the air that had nothing to do with making love; nothing
to do with Marco's desire for Amadeo or any desire that Amadeo might be
feeling for him.

Hesitantly Marco returned to the seat, kneeling cautiously between Amadeo's
legs.  There was no evidence of arousal about Amadeo.  He looked imperious
as he held out his arms to Marco, as if willing him to come into them.

"Amadeo," he began, "if you don't want this . . ."

His lover pushed himself up into a sitting position.  He took Marco's face
between his hands and kissed the trembling lips with a hard quick kiss.
Then he slowly pressed Marco's head down between his bent legs until
Marco's face was pressed to his warm body.

"Make me want it, Marco," he ordered in a harsh tone that had Marco
trembling even more.  "I need you to make me want it again, Marco.  *Make*
me want it!"

The voice of Amadeo was choked with deep emotion now, and what had started
out as an order had finally turned into a desperate pleading filled with
pain, filled with anguish.  Marco did not understand, but despite his fear,
despite his bewilderment, he loved this boy, this young man, and he would
do anything in his power to please him.

Marco nuzzled his nose into his lover's groin and began to press kisses
into the juncture of thigh and pelvis.  As he did this, he slid one hand
gently around Amadeo's limp penis, cradling it in his palm.  He slid the
other hand under the scrotum, lifting it and caressing the sac with a nudge
of his thumb.

Suddenly he froze as an anguished sob broke from his lover's throat.  Marco
lifted his head and found Amadeo laying back with his hands over his face.
Another harsh sob escaped from between the trembling fingers.

Marco carefully released Amadeo from his hands.  He slid along the seat to
lay beside his lover and gathered the shaking naked body into his arms.  He
placed one gentle hand behind his lover's head and pulled it down onto his
shoulder.

"Sshhh, Amadeo," he whispered into the damp hair falling around his loved
one's face.  Amadeo's hands reached out and wrapped themselves around
Marco, sliding around his waist, holding him close.

"I love you, Amadeo.  I only wanted to show you how much.  That's all.  It
can wait.  It can wait until next time."

"No, no.  I . . . ," Amadeo tried to say before another heaving sob shook
him.  He gasped for breath and tightened his hold on Marco.

"What?  What is it, caro mio?  Tell me.  Whatever it is, I don't want to
make you cry any more.  Please stop crying and tell me what is wrong.   If
I am hurting you, please tell me how to make it better.  I'll do anything
for you, Amadeo.  You know that.  Anything!"

Marco continued to stroke Amadeo's hair, holding him close, pressing kisses
onto his forehead.  He was scared.  He had never seen Amadeo upset like
this before.  He had seen Amadeo angry.  He had seen Amadeo worried.  But
never had he witnessed this welling up of an overwhelming despair that,
though it had not yet led to tears, was still causing tremours to course
through his young lover's body, even held securely in Marco's arms.

"I love you, Marco," Amadeo finally managed in a choked voice.

"And I love you, caro.  More than anything," Marco answered.

"I know.  I know."  Amadeo lifted his head and stared into the black eyes
so close to his face.  "That's what makes it hurt so much."

Marco stared back, uncomprehending.  What could Amadeo possibly mean?  His
gift of love was *hurting* Amadeo?

"What do you mean?  I don't understand," he replied.

Amadeo just stared at his lover in response.   He brought one trembling
hand up to caress the face that wore such a poignant expression of
bewilderment.

"I can't love you like you love me, Marco," he finally said.  "I can't
belong to you today, or tomorrow, or ever.  This, what we have had these
past months, this is all I can give you.  And you deserve more.  I want to
give you so much more, Marco, but I can't."

The expression on Marco's face underwent a subtle change.  Comprehension
had replaced the look of worried questioning, but the sadness in the black
eyes now mirrored Amadeo's own.

Marco knew the pain Amadeo was feeling.  He had already cried the tears
that his lover was trying so hard not to shed now.

No matter how intense their mutual expression of feeling, no matter how
joyous their loving, their time together must always end before sunset.
Because no matter how much Amadeo might say he loved Marco, he belonged to
the Master.  Marco may have his body.  Marco may even have a part of his
heart.  But Amadeo's soul belonged completely to the Master.  Marco knew
this.  It was an indisputable fact.

In his mind's eye a vision formed of eyes aglow like blue flames in an
eerie mask of a face; a face disturbing in its immobility, its whiteness.
The Master had a power over Amadeo that Marco didn't understand, perhaps
didn't want to understand.  But he knew the reasons Amadeo insisted on
their meeting outside the palazzo.  He wanted no one there to know; no one
who could tell the Master.  The Master must not know of their love.  And if
he became aware of it, the relationship would be over.

Marco knew something else.  Their love was living even now on borrowed
time.  It was a relationship that was never meant to be, and these moments
together were only stolen moments out of time, with no meaning beyond the
present.

It had taken Marco a long time to understand this.  It had taken even
longer to come to accept it.  But acceptance could not soften the hurt, the
sadness, the sense that some great pain was waiting for him just around the
corner.  Marco did not ever want to reach that proverbial corner.  So he
had pretended it wasn't there.  Time enough for the pain later.  Yes, Marco
had thought there was time enough for all that later.

Now here it was staring him in the face.  The pain had reached out and
touched his lover as well.  He should have realized that it would, but he
hadn't.  Something else he hadn't wanted to face.

"It's all right, Amadeo.  I understand.  I do."

Marco's calm voice was having an interesting effect on Amadeo.  Amadeo
pulled himself out of Marco's arms, sat up and tucked his hair behind his
ears.  The trembling had disappeared, the sobs had quieted, and he sat
thoughtfully studying his lover with eyes grown large with questions of his
own.

"You said it yourself, Amadeo," Marco continued.  "You belong to the
Master, not to me.  And that's okay.  Really.  I can't love you the way he
does.  Even I can see that whatever holds you to the Master is very . . .
special.  If you can love me a little bit like you love him, just for a
little while . . . well, that is special enough for me, caro."

"You don't mind?" Amadeo questioned him disbelievingly.  "You aren't angry?
This doesn't make you hate me?"

"I could never hate you, Amadeo," Marco told him with a slight smile
turning up the corners of his mouth.   "I *love* you.  And I will love you
just as long and as hard as you will let me.  That's all.  I'm surprised
that the Master hasn't found us out yet and thrown me out into the street.
I've been expecting it from the very first day."

Amadeo bent his head and stared at the hands clasped together in his lap.

"I think maybe he does know," Amadeo said in a quiet voice.

"What?" exclaimed Marco in astonishment.

"I think he knows already," Amadeo stated calmly.  "Maybe not that it's
you, but, he knows I have a steady lover.  He must know."

"And he doesn't mind?" Marco's voice rose in a curious tone.

"No.  He doesn't."  Amadeo looked up finally into Marco's wide eyes.  "He
wants me to have lovers.  He doesn't care how many.  He thinks it will make
me happy."

"And do they?" Marco had to ask.

"No, not really," was his answer.  "Until I started loving you, I really
didn't enjoy it much.  Not after the novelty wore off.  It's different with
you.  It's not just feeling pleasure in my body.  It's not over and
good-bye and come again.  I hated that.  I wanted . . . something else."

"Love," whispered Marco, staring into those brown eyes.  So beautiful.  So sad.

"Yes."  Amadeo said.  "If I can't be lovers with the Master, I'm glad that
I can be lovers with you."

Marco kept quiet for a moment.  He had questions that he dared not voice.
Why couldn't Amadeo and the Master be lovers?  They loved each other with a
powerful love.  Anyone could see that.  But asking questions about the
Master was forbidden, and Marco did not want to break any rules.  He was
taking enough risks as it was.

"Do you think he would be very angry if he knew it was me?" Marco ventured.

"I don't know," Amadeo answered.  "I'm afraid to find out; afraid he will
send you away.  You know, I'm surprised you're still at the palazzo too.
Didn't the last apprentice to be sent away, didn't he leave because he was
too old?  I think he was only fifteen years."

"He was bigger than me," Marco stated.  He remembered Vittorio.  The
apprentice had been big for his age, but he had only been fifteen. "And he
didn't fit in very well," Marco added.  "He teased and tormented us younger
ones all the time."

"And since little Gino came, you have all been very happy here together,"
Amadeo observed.

"Yes," agreed Marco.  "We all get along very well.  We're all good friends."

"Brothers," corrected Amadeo.  "You treat each other like brothers."

"Yes," Marco said thoughtfully, considering the idea.  "Probably better
than most brothers treat each other."

"We're all orphans," Amadeo stated, as if that one fact explained everything.

"We all belong to the Master until he sends us away," Marco couldn't keep
the sadness out of his voice.  He tried to smile at Amadeo, but it was a
weak-looking effort.  "I'm sixteen already, so it won't be long for me,
whether the Master finds out about us or not."

"I don't want to talk about it any more."   Amadeo reached for Marco's
hands and took them in his own.  "Que sera sera."  He raised the hands to
his lips and kissed the palm of each tenderly.

"Let's go get Angelo and go home," suggested Marco.

Amadeo hesitated, still holding Marco's hands.  "Don't you want to . . .,"
he left the question hanging, his eyebrows raised in surprise at Marco.

Marco grinned.  "Do you?"

Amadeo looked down at the hands he was holding and blushed.  Slowly he
looked back up at his lover's face, the black eyes widely spaced and
heavily lashed.  He reached out a finger to gently trace one black eyebrow
and whispered, "Yes."

Marco moved against the back of the gondola seat, waiting for Amadeo to lay
down beside him, but Amadeo just bent low from his sitting position and
pulled Marco to him with both hands.  Their lips met, and it was all
suddenly *there*.  All of it.  Everything.

Passion and excitement exploded inside Marco.  They kissed, and they
kissed, and they kept on kissing; wet, thirsting, thrusting, almost violent
kisses.  He let go of Amadeo with one hand and used it to push himself up
onto his knees.  He leaned his weight against Amadeo, and his lover sank
back onto the gondola seat, his arms around Marco, taking him with him.

Marco lay on top of Amadeo and the frantic kissing continued.  It spread to
cheeks and throats and shoulders, and then returned to lips and tongues and
teeth again.  Amadeo shifted beneath him and Marco raised himself on both
elbows for a moment to accommodate the delicious movements.  He found
himself sliding between Amadeo's thighs and a pair of strong legs hugged
his sides.

"Ummm . . .," Marco moaned deep in his chest.  He felt he was drowning in
sensation and emotion.  He was *so* glad, because it was so wonderful to
just lose himself in loving, and being loved by, his Amadeo.  And for these
few precious moments, Amadeo *was* his.  It was enough.

Their movements slowed as they slid against each other, thrusting against
each other almost languidly, enjoying every movement with an enjoyment
enhanced by the tight leash they had both instinctively placed on their
overwhelming desire for completion.  The question was, how long could
*that* last?

Marco finally pulled back slightly to trail a seemingly lazy hand down the
smooth chest and flat stomach of his lover.  He clasped the tip of Amadeo's
hard penis, coating his fingers in the wetness he found there.  He reached
for his own to do the same, making sure his whole hand was sticky.  Then he
reached down between Amadeo's legs and his own and began to spread the
fluid onto and into the tightness of Amadeo's waiting opening.

Amadeo sighed as Marco caressed him intimately.  He was consciously trying
to relax, but it was hard with the anticipation and the pleasure inside him
growing with each passing moment.  Soon he was moving in response to the
deep caressing movements of those fingers.  Then the trembling started.

Marco was ready.  Marco was more than ready.  He was leaning heavily on his
knees and one hand, his face pressed into his lover's chest blindly, trying
to keep his erection from touching any part of Amadeo or himself, while he
made sure that Amadeo was just as ready as he.  When he felt the first fine
tremour ripple through his lover's body, he removed his fingers and
lowering himself between those beautiful thighs, he placed his erection
into the opening and thrust in, deeply.

The two lovers quaked in each other's arms for an endless moment, bodies
molding together, settling, shifting, accomodating each other, sinking into
and embracing the new level of sensation and heightened awareness.

Amadeo released the hold he had on Marco's hair and wrapped his arms around
him instead as he sank for a moment against Amadeo's chest.  They lay for a
moment, just breathing deeply against each other. Then Marco raised himself
again to gaze down into the glistening brightness of the brown eyes beneath
him.  Another slow grin spread across Marco's attractive features.  It was
soon mirrored by his lover.

Marco lowered his mouth to the tempting one waiting for him, and slowly
began to shift his weight between Amadeo's legs, rocking, thrusting very
slightly.  He increased the length, depth, and power of his movements but
deliberately kept them slow, testing the limits of his self-control.  He
wanted this to last forever.  He knew it couldn't.  But he still wanted it
to.

Amadeo was frozen, trembling, his nails digging crescents into Marco's
arms.  Marco clenched his teeth with the effort of holding back the
ferocity of his need.  He thought for a moment that he might shatter into a
thousand tiny fragments of pain.  And then something broke, some bastion
was breached, and a hot agonizing flood surged up inside him and sent him
plunging one last time into his waiting lover.

He buried himself into Amadeo's body as deep as he could go and let the
wave of ecstasy take him.  He didn't notice Amadeo's body arching to meet
that final thrust. Amadeo's response lifted Marco's weight right off the
gondola seat for a moment. Amadeo clamped his legs around Marco like a vise
as their bodies rocked together, back and forth, joined into one giant
throbbing, pulsing, pleasured body.

After what seemed like an endless number of moments, Marco became aware
that he was sobbing breathlessly into Amadeo's neck.  Amadeo's long auburn
hair clung to the sweaty surface, and to Marco's face.  Amadeo cradled him
against his semen-slicked body.  Marco felt he couldn't move, even if he
tried.  He was trembling so badly that Amadeo was rocking him quietly from
side to side, murmuring soft, loving, soothing sounds and stroking his hair
with one hand while he held him securely with the other.

Marco didn't remember finally relaxing and falling asleep in his lover's
arms.  He didn't notice when Amadeo gently lowered him to the gondola seat
and then entwined himself around his sleeping form.  The next thing Marco
knew was someone saying his name, in the most tender of voices.  It sounded
like the voices of the angels calling him from Heaven itself.

"Marco," Amadeo tried to wake his lover gently.  "Marco, wake up.  It's
getting late."

There was a smile in Marco's eyes when he opened them and looked into his
lover's face, so close to his own.  He had finally recognized the heavenly
voice, but he had no words to say to him; no way to express what he was
feeling.

"Come on," Amadeo said with an answering smile that was just as tender, but
a trifle more urgent.  "That clock tower is going to strike any time now,
and Angelo is going to appear, and there's no way we're going to be able to
explain this unless we get up right now."

Marco knew he was right.  Yet, at that very moment, he didn't care; didn't
care if they were found out, didn't care if the Master threw him out into
the street, didn't care if the Doge himself should step into the gondola at
that very moment.  He was *so* happy.

He grinned at Amadeo.  "I know," he said.

Amadeo grinned right back.  "We're a mess."

Marco looked down at himself.  He let his gaze travel over his lover.  "We
sure are," he agreed, still with the same silly grin plastered upon his
face.

"I have an idea," Amadeo said.  His expression was filled with a wild
reckless humour that made the silly grin of moments before look tame.
"Come on," he urged his lover, and planting one swift kiss on his lover's
lips, he rose from the seat.

Chasing those elusive lips to try and beg another kiss from them, Marco
also rose, but froze in alarm when Amadeo turned with a quick movement and
threw open the curtains of the cabin.

"Amadeo!" Marco gasped in shock.  "What are you doing?!" he hissed,
stepping aside from the opening, trying to hide behind the pulled-back
curtains, which by now Amadeo had pushed back as far as they would go.

"This cabin needs airing out . . .  badly.  This is the only way I know how
to do it."  The cabin was now flooded with the hot afternoon sun.  Marco
couldn't argue with him.  The cabin smelled strongly of hot fabrics and
even hotter sex.  Thank God Angelo wouldn't be sitting in it right away.
The journey home along the canals should be enough to air it out . . . he
hoped.

"You couldn't have waited until we were dressed?" Marco asked, exasperated,
as he reached for his leggings.

"We can't put our clothes on while we're in this state," Amadeo grinned.
"We're both a sticky smelly mess.  You want to try explaining why you smell
like that to everyone at the supper table?"  He grinned devilishly.  He
seemed to be enjoying their predicament enormously.

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Marco asked.  He picked up Amadeo's
linen shirt.  Amadeo couldn't possibly put it back on.

"I'm going to go for a swim," Amadeo stated nonchalantly.  He waited for
Marco's reaction.  He wasn't disappointed.

"You're going to do what?" Marco exclaimed incredulously.

"Take a swim," Amadeo said again, this time the humour winning out as he
grinned and then chuckled.

"In the canal?" Marco's black eyebrows were climbing his forehead.

"Do you know of anywhere else handy?" Amadeo teased him.

Marco just stared at him.  Then he peered around the edges of the curtains
at the buildings lining both sides of the canal.

"Naked?" he asked, staring into Amadeo's sparkling eyes for confirmation.

"Yes," Amadeo said.  He walked out boldly into the sunshine on the hot deck
of the gondola, went to the side and placing both hands on the side leaned
down and looked into the dark green depths of the canal for a moment.  Then
he raised his head and threw a challenging look at his lover.

"Coming?"  Amadeo leaned back a moment, hands still on the side of the
gondola, and then he suddenly vaulted himself over the side and landed in
the water with a splash that sent water up several feet in the air.

Marco stood open-mouthed in shock for one ghastly moment.  Dear God in
Heaven, was his only thought.  Everyone within 100 meters of the quay must
have heard that splash.  Oh, Amadeo.  Oh . . . what the hell!

Without giving himself time to think about it, he dropped his leggings, and
still grasping Amadeo's linen shirt in one hand, he ran to the side across
the hot boards and bringing up one foot to rest on the side of the gondola,
pushed himself up and out of the boat and dove into the water.

The impact of hitting the water, and the shock of it against his overheated
skin, stunned Marco for a moment.  He sank deeper and deeper into the dark
depths.  When it seemed as if he was enclosed in darkness, Marco suddenly
came to himself, and realized where he was, and stopped descending, looking
back up through the darkness to the surface.  He could see Amadeo's naked
form moving above him, against the light.  Giving a kick he headed back to
the surface, his lungs almost bursting by the time he got there.  He broke
through the surface about a meter from his lover.  Amadeo turned in relief
when he heard him.

"Here," Marco said as he threw the shirt at Amadeo.  Amazing that he had
not let go of it.  "A rinsing in canal water should hide the evidence," he
grinned.

Amadeo pulled it towards him across the surface of the water.  He started
to rub it between his hands, working the canal water through the fabric.

Marco sank down below the surface again, holding his breath for a long
moment as he gazed at Amadeo moving above him.

He is so beautiful, thought Marco.  Amadeo moves so gracefully, even in
water.

Marco returned to the surface in time to watch Amadeo struggling to get
into the wet shirt.  He swam over to help him. And just as they succeeded
in getting the neck opening over Amadeo's head and one arm through one
armhole, a commotion started above them.

They looked up and there stood Angelo gesticulating wildly from the gondola
and swearing loudly at them.

"What is the meaning of this!" he yelled, his face red with outrage.

"It was so hot," shouted Amadeo over the water, "that we decided to cool
off in the canal."  Amadeo had the shirt on completely now and he looked at
Marco, trying not to grin too widely.  He jerked his head towards the
gondola, and they both started to swim over to it.

"What will the Master say?" Angelo glowered at them as they pulled
themselves over the side with the aid of his outstretched hand.

"He'll probably agree that it has been a very hot day," Amadeo said calmly
with a look of cool indifference on his face.  "A perfect day for a dip in
the canal."  He walked over to the cabin and casually began to don his
leggings.

"Amadeo," Marco reminded him sharply.  "That shirt is very wet."

Amadeo looked down at the shirt dripping onto his leggings and the floor of
the cabin.  He pulled it off and threw it to Marco, who, without a word,
slipped back into his younger apprentice persona and wrung it out for him
over the side of the boat.  Then he carried it back to Amadeo and helped
him put it back on, not saying another word.

"Get dressed, Marco," Amadeo ordered, not looking up as he pulled on his
tunic over the damp shirt.

"Yes, Amadeo," Marco replied.  He was always expected to answer when given
a direct order.  He quickly donned his own clothes, keeping his eyes on his
task, acutely aware, as Amadeo must be, that Angelo was watching their
every move.

Angelo just watched silently as the two boys dressed.  What could he say?

It was a scandal that they should have been swimming in the canal.  The
canal was the lifeblood of the city, yes.  But it was also its sewer.  The
Master would be outraged if he found out the young Master had actually been
*swimming* in it.

And how could he tell the Master that?  The Master would want to know why
he hadn't stopped them.  He would want to know why he hadn't been aboard
the gondola at the time.

The chimes of the bell tower in the piazza suddenly sounded across the
rooftops.  They all three turned towards the sound.  Marco and Amadeo
looked at each other calmly but with a secret knowledge in their carefully
composed faces as the biggest bell gonged out four times to mark the hour.

"It's time to go, Angelo," the young Master said, looking Angelo right in
the eye, as calmly as if they had not just been doing something they
shouldn't have.  Angelo had a shrewd idea that the young Master knew
exactly where he had been while they were swimming, and that the incident
was therefore not going to be mentioned when they returned to the palazzo.
Yes, young Amadeo was a young man now and knew the ways of the world.

Angelo nodded to the young Master.  "Of course, Master Amadeo," he said
just as calmly.  "It's time to go home."  He busied himself preparing to
get underway and soon the gondola was sliding smoothly and silently through
the waters of the canal.

Marco was standing forward in the front of the gondola, by the piles of
packages he had placed there earlier, pretending to survey their placement,
checking they were secure.  He raised his head for a few moments as the
gondola moved away from the quay, scanning the surrounding buildings.

Not a curtained stirred.  Not a balcony or window or doorway was occupied.
No one had witnessed their little adventure.  No one had noticed a thing.
He was starting to believe he had imagined it all when a tiny trickle of
water dripped from his hair and down into the back of his tunic.  He smiled
to himself.  He heard someone step up beside him but didn't turn his head.

"I love you," Amadeo whispered.

Marco barely heard the words.  In fact, for a moment he thought he had
imagined them.  So he turned his head slowly and glanced at his companion.

Amadeo didn't look at him.  But the whisper came again, out of lips that
barely moved.

"I love you," Amadeo said.  Then slowly he turned to look at Marco and it
was there in his eyes for Marco to see; the tenderness, the desire, the
sadness.  Marco had to look away as his eyesight blurred.

"Amadeo," was all he could choke out in reply as the gondola passed
silently under the first bridge.
...............................................................


His Amadeo has taken a lover.  Every evening it is the same.  When Marius
makes the trek up that long flight of stairs from the cellar the fact is
waiting there for him, staring him in the face.  Whether his Amadeo is
there in the palazzo waiting for him to rise, or whether he has just rushed
in breathless as the sun falls from the sky, Marius can tell that he has
come from the arms of his mortal lover.  His meetings with his lover are
always in the late afternoon and he always returns covered in the warm rich
scent of sated passion.

Well, it was what Marius wanted, wasnıt it?  His Amadeo was only carrying
out his instructions.  He should have known his young love wouldnıt be
happy for long with an endless succession of anonymous rendezvous.  He
should have known that with his temperament, Amadeo would be looking for
affection, for attachment, as well as the satisfaction of his physical
hunger.  Yes, for his Amadeo to truly enjoy the physical joining, there
would have to be an emotional joining as well.  He should have realized
this.  Why hadnıt he?

His Amadeo has found among the many opportunities for dalliance in the
shadowy by-ways of the bustling cosmopolitan city, one special person who
can fulfill both desires.  

So far, Marius had no idea who it was.

Do I want to know who it is, Marius asked himself.  It would be easy to
take the face, the very name, from Amadeoıs mind.  

Does it make a difference?  His Amadeo is happy.  Isnıt that enough?

No.  No, of course it wasnıt enough.  Marius was worried.  What if his
little plan had backfired?  What if this attachment, well, what if his
young one wanted it more than he wanted the life of darkness and death that
was the only thing Marius had to offer?  What if his Amadeo chose life? 
What if he decided he wanted love in the afternoon rather than death by
moonlight?  What if his darling chose the sun, and the bright, exciting and
modern mortal world that it magically illuminated in all its glory?

What would Marius do then?  Let him go? *Could* he . . . let him go?

It was almost sunset and the heat of the hot summer sun still radiated from
the warm stones of the palazzo, still intensified the strength of the
stench of the canal that permeated the cellar as Marius rose from his
coffin.  It was cool and damp and dark in the cellar, but Marius could feel
the warm tendrils of air left over from the heat of the day even down here.

As Marius came up the flight of stone stairs, he could still smell the
scent of the cooking fires from the previous meal.  The heavy odour of
something spicy that had been cooked, hung in the warm air of the palazzo. 
Childrenıs laughter could be heard.  The young apprentices were playing
games in the courtyard.  Was Amadeo with them?

No.  Marius sought out his sweet boy and found him in his bedchamber.  He
was bathing.  And someone was helping him bathe.  That was unusual.

Marco.   Ah . . .  yes, thought Marius.  Marco.

Marius paused in the corridor and then swiftly drifted past his studio and
into the library.  He closed the door after him and seated himself.  He
wanted to think about this.  Marius made himself comfortable and reached
out again with his mind.

Marco and Amadeo were kneeling on the hearthrug in the bedchamber.  Amadeo
was being washed by the soapy-slick hands of the young apprentice and it
was clear that this was not an arduous task for young Marco.  It was also
quite evident from the movements of the hands, and Amadeoıs reactions to
those solicitous hands, that they already had an intimate knowledge of the
body that they were washing.

It made perfect sense.  He should have guessed before now, Marius thought
to himself.  They were so close; rarely out of each otherıs company; except
when Marius appeared.  He had watched them together and been glad that his
beloved had made such a close friend, and so close to his own age.  He had
been happy to know that the two adolescents had so much in common, and
could support each other at a difficult time in their lives, as they became
young men.  He had thought that they could share many experiences together. 
He just hadnıt thought it would be *those* particular experiences that they
would share.

Marius knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Amadeo had initiated the
relationship.  He had needed someone to share his burgeoning physical
cravings with, someone he could trust, and respect, and even love.  Marius
knew that the older lovers his Amadeo had been involved with had frightened
him, had overwhelmed him with their adult demands and then chilled him with
their adult indifference.  Marius had told him to seek out passion, and he
had found sex.  To find passion, all he had to do was look into the eyes of
his best friend.  It had been waiting there all along, to be awakened with
an affectionate kiss.

Marius was relieved in a way.  The feelings in that warm room upstairs,
where the one young lover bathed the other, had been tender and loving.  He
wanted his Amadeo to have that.  He was glad that somehow he had managed to
find such feelings to share with another.

It was also obvious that they had been trying to hide it from him. 
Otherwise he would have discovered it before now; at least heard some
whispered comments, or been given some broad hints by the servants.  No,
they had been very discreet.  So, that begged the question, what had
changed?

The sun was setting.  They both knew that the Master would arrive at any
moment.  Yet there they were, engrossed in their own little world of
pleasure as if without a care or a worry.  Marius decided he would not
disturb them.  He would let Amadeo seek him out tonight.  Perhaps he would
want to tell Marius all about it without his prompting.

Yes, that is what he would do.  And now with that decided, it was time for
him to do something about his own grooming.  The dampness and dust of the
cellar, the concentrated stench of canal water that pooled under the
ancient building, clung to Mariusı clothes, and he was suddenly tired of
it.  He wanted to look and feel like any other civilized being tonight.  

Marius left the library and took the main staircase up to the top floor of
the palazzo.  Only one other person was allowed access to this floor,
Mariusı personal servant.  These rooms at the top of the palazzo were
Mariusı retreat, his sanctuary.  The servant, Giovanni, had been tested and
was loyal.  His only duties were to wait on the Master and keep the
Masterıs rooms inviolate.  This was not an arduous task because they were
invariably empty.  

The floors were covered in rich carpets, the walls were hung with exquisite
tapestries, the furniture was comfortable and well made, some of it very
old,  including an enormous curtained canopied bed in one of the four rooms
on that floor.  Marius couldnıt remember the last time he had used it, but
he paused beside it now and ran his hand over the brocade coverlet.  Always
freshly made up, as if for a guest that never came.  

Giovanni kept the rooms immaculate; the sleeping quarters which included a
curtained dressing area,  the sitting room, the small private library where
he looked after all his paperwork, and Giovanniıs own room.  This floor
held the aura of a museum with its treasures on display.  And it was just
as quiet, as quiet as the grave.  It had never disturbed Marius before, but
tonight . . . tonight it did.  

Why had he never brought Amadeo up here?  Had he been afraid of
overwhelming the boy or frightening him?  Or had Marius been seeking his
own protection; a distance between his ³real² life as a lonely predator of
the night, and his ³pretend² one as a rich Venetian artisan? 

Amadeo had always been a threat to that distance, that margin of safety,
the gossamer web of illusion that kept the two halves of his world separate
and in balance.  His young love was set to dissolve that barrier, make it
meaningless.  Was Marius ready for that?  Was Amadeo?

And now, as if one more complication was needed, there was Marco.

And the question begged to be asked:  should he let his Amadeo go?  His
beloved boy had finally taken that vital step; from Mariusı arms into the
arms of another.  Wouldnıt it be in Amadeoıs best interests to let him go? 
Did he love him enough to let him go?

Marius was feeling an agitation he didnıt like.  Decisions had to be made,
choices given, futures decided . . . soon.  There was a feeling inside him
that urged the need to take action; an uncomfortable restlessness.  He
didnıt need this when there were so many delicate issues to deal with
already.

Marius reached for the tiny bell beside the ornately carved bed.  He picked
it up and giving it a short peremptory shake of the wrist, heard it ring
sharply once.  It jangled on his nerves and he quickly replaced it on the
table.

Giovanni appeared like magic in the doorway.

³Master?²

Marius didnıt even look up.  He kept staring at the pile of smooth satin
and soft velvet covered pillows on the huge bed.

³I want a hot bath in the dressing room in one hour,² he stated, no
expression in his voice.

³Yes, Master,² Giovanni answered.  He still stood in the doorway.

³Thatıs all, Giovanni,² Marius added.

³Yes, Master,² Giovanni answered and disappeared.

Marius left the room by the adjoining door and entered the sitting room. 
It was a room furnished for comfort; big fireplace, comfortable
furnishings, access to an enormous balcony.  The softness of twilight was
fading fast from the evening sky.  Its beauty and its comfort did not reach
Marius in the big empty room.  He felt a hunger and a longing that could
only be assuaged with his loved one in his arms.  But now was not the time.

Marius went to the huge windows, and pulling them open, stepped onto the
balcony.  He reached out into the minds of the creatures of the city,
searching . . .   It was always easier to hunt in the small hours, when the
scum of humanity was plentiful in the black alleyways of Venice.  But he
felt a hunger now that wouldnıt wait.  He needed calm.  He needed peace. 
He needed to be able to think.  And the blood was a healing balm that never
failed him.

Ah, yes, Marius sighed.  An image was in his mind, and he focussed on it,
shutting out all the others.

A man had his hands around the neck of a struggling woman.  She ceased to
struggle.  The man dropped her body on the floor without a second glance. 
He reached for a jar on the mantle above a fire which had gone out.  He
emptied the few coins from it into his hand.  Some words passed his lips
and he spat on the corpse of the dead woman.

Marius took one step to the edge of the balcony and disappeared into the
growing darkness above the city.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................


Amadeo knelt beside Marco and slowly poured the lukewarm water from a
pitcher over Marcoıs head, rinsing the soap from his hair into the waiting
basin.  They had bathed each other from head to toe, and now Amadeo was
going to dress his lover in some of his own clothes.  Marcoıs were
threadbare and too tight on him.  

He was going to put Marco into something velvet tonight.  He didnıt think
Marco had ever worn velvet before.  It may take some persuading, but Marco
would wear it for him, no matter how much the other boys laughed at him. 
He wanted Marco to look beautiful tonight.  By the end of the evening,
everyone would know about them, about their love.  It would be obvious.

The sun had set and the Master had not come.  When Amadeo was not waiting
at the top of the stairs at sunset, the Master always came looking for him. 
But not tonight.

So, the Master knew.  He had probably already found them here together with
his mindıs-eye.  The Master could always find Amadeo; always knew where he
was . . . and what he was doing.  Well, that answered one question.  Now
came the hard part.

Was the Master angry?

No, the Master never got angry.  Amadeo had never seen anger or
disappointment or disapproval in the Masterıs eyes in all the time they had
been together.  This would not be an exception.  This was not the kind of
circumstance that would make the Master angry.  The Master was the most
compassionate person Amadeo had ever known.  And besides, he loved Amadeo.

The Master would not be jealous, either.  The Master knew that Amadeo lived
and breathed for the night when they would be one in the blood.  The Master
must know this by now.

Was the Master sad?

Yes, the Master might be sad.  He would know, just as Amadeo and Marco did,
that the love of two young apprentices could not last.  It was a gift to be
given, and enjoyed while it lasted, and cherished as a memory for ever
after.  But it was not meant to be forever; not like the love of Amadeo and
the Master.  

The Master would know that Amadeo was sad, and that would make him sad too. 
The Master always knew what Amadeo was feeling.  He always understood.  He
always shared those feelings.  It was the one comfort that Amadeo had when
he contemplated what would happen between Marco and himself.

Would the Master be worried?  Would the Master be afraid?  Is that why the
Master had not come to them?

Amadeo knew that the Master had no need to worry.  But maybe the Master
was, anyway.  Maybe he was afraid that Amadeo would refuse his blood.  How
could he think that?  Was it possible that the Master thought that?  Now
Amadeo was beginning to be worried himself.

Marco was busy rubbing his hair dry with a towelling cloth and didnıt see
the changing expressions chasing themselves across his loverıs face.  But
he was aware that the room had become darker and strangely quiet.  It gave
Marco an odd feeling, almost of nervousness.  He lowered the cloth from his
head and looked into Amadeoıs face.

³Whatıs wrong?² he asked.

Amadeo looked into the black eyes, at the expression on the attractive face
that was calm, but concerned.

³I thought the Master would have come in before now,² he said quietly.  ³He
knows.  Maybe he . . .²  Amadeo didnıt know how to voice his concerns to
Marco.  There were many things that Marco didnıt know, and must never know.

³Maybe he doesnıt care,² Marco suggested, hopefully.  He didnıt really
believe it.

³He cares,² Amadeo assured him.  ³He will be concerned.  He would not want
either of us to be hurt . . . by anything.²

³But, if heıs not angry, what can hurt us?²  Marco couldnıt understand
Amadeoıs unease.  His only worry was the reaction of the Master.  If the
Master gave his consent to the relationship, no one else at the palazzo
would dare to question it, or criticize it.

Amadeo just looked at Marco with an affectionate and amused half-smile.  He
has no idea, Amadeo thought.  No idea.  What an innocent.

³Nothing,² Amadeo reassured him.  ³Nothing at all, sweet Marco.  Everything
will be just as it should be.  And the Master will be kindness itself,
youıll see.²

³Then . . . donıt look so sad any more,² Marco requested.  

Amadeo knew the Master better than anyone.  If he said the Master knew, but
wasnıt angry, then it was so.  Marco was just glad that they didnıt have to
hide in the gondola any more.  This bedchamber was much more comfortable.  

³Donıt worry any more.  Hmmm?²  He leaned forward and kissed Amadeo lightly
on the lips, then drew back to study the effect.

Amadeo smiled.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................


Marius entered the sitting room from the balcony.  He left the balcony
doors open so that the warm night air and the soft sounds of the city night
could be clearly heard, easing the silence of the room.

He continued into the bedroom and through to the dressing room, where a
bathtub half filled with steaming water waited.  Everything had been laid
out for his comfort and convenience; robe, toiletries, hairbrushes and
combs, piles of soft cloths for washing and drying.  

A full-length mirror had been pulled away from its station against the wall
and faced the spot on the floor beside the bath.  Marius stepped in front
of it and surveyed himself.

Behold, the monster, he thought to himself.

He made a lunge with a snarl at the mirror in an effort to really make the
beast show himself.  And he did.  It was a horrific sight.

In fact, it was so horrific that Marius began to laugh.  And laugh.  And
laugh.  He couldnıt seem to stop laughing.

He watched with some detachment as the blazingly blue-eyed demon laughed at
him; laughed as if he would never stop.  Thatıs how it felt; a great
overwhelming release of tension and anxiety that had nowhere else to go but
up.  And out.  Released.

Ah yes, thought Marius.  I was right.  The blood always does me good.  I
should feed more often.

Marius continued to chuckle and snort and giggle to himself as he threw off
his clothes and pulled off his boots and climbed into the hot bathwater. 
Ah . . .  Marius sank down into the delicious heat, drew up his knees, and
slid beneath the surface for a moment.  Then he sat up again, leant back
and relaxing against the back of the tub, closed his eyes.

You fool, he thought to himself.  You self-pitying old fool.

No, Marius would not let himself indulge in self-pity.  What a waste of
time and energy.  If he were not that monster, where would his Amadeo be
today, or any of the other myriad boys he had helped, for that matter? And
what of the vermin he so conveniently removed from the teeming streets of
Venice? Surely, that deserved some note.

No, he wasnıt going to indulge himself that way either.  He was no generous
public benefactor.  He gave back what he took, no more, no less. 
Symbiosis.  Neat.  Tidy.  He was not going to pretend that the world needed
him, or that he needed the world.  It was just more convenient this way. 
Yes, more convenient . . . to him.  Because that was the reason he was
still here, wasnıt it?  His own selfish need to continue.  Despite what he
was.  Despite what the world was.  He wanted to continue.  And so he did.

But . . . he did not want to continue alone.  Not any more.  He needed
Amadeo now too.  And even though he was going to give his Amadeo the
choice, he knew, deep in his secret selfish heart, that there was really no
choice.  Since that first kiss, Amadeo had been his.  And his Amadeo knew
it too.

Marius smiled and started to wash himself, humming a little under his breath.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................


The evening meal had come and gone with still no sign of the Master. 
Marcoıs velvet tunic had caused a stir.  The other boys had teased him
unmercifully, but he had just smiled at them, and then turned and smiled at
Amadeo.  The cook had raised her eyebrows at Amadeo, who had raised his
right back at her.  She hadnıt said a word.  Now that was a miracle.

The boys had retired to the large room they all shared and Amadeo and Marco
had taken turns telling stories about  strange and frightening monsters
that live in the Grand Canal, and castrati singers who were secretly angels
from Heaven sent to earth by God to sing His praises.  Amadeo played some
lullabies on his lute and soon they were all yawning.  The two older boys
helped the younger ones into bed as usual.  What was not so usual was Marco
standing at the door about to leave as soon as the candles had been blown
out.

³Where are you going?²  Young Gino sat up in bed.  He sounded worried.

³Iım going upstairs to sleep with Amadeo in his room,² Marco replied.

³Are you allowed to do that?²  one of the other boys asked, wide-eyed.

³The Master knows,² Amadeo said.

³Oh,² was the only response.  No one questioned the Master; or Amadeo, for
that matter.

³Good night,² said Marco.

³Good night,² echoed the boys, who lay back down again in their beds.

Amadeo put his arm around Marcoıs waist and led him from the room.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................


Marco was sound asleep in the big bed in Amadeoıs chamber.  And no wonder;
they had worn themselves out on their trip to the pigment sellerıs shop
that afternoon.  Amadeo was tired too, but he couldnıt sleep.  He had
tossed and turned for a while,  then got up and went to the window hoping 
the balmy night air and the clear night sky filled with stars would help
him relax as he watched over his sleeping lover.

Still no sign of the Master.  He had checked downstairs in the library and
the studio.  He had peered down the dark stone staircase that led to the
cellars, but had been too afraid to actually go down there.  It was
forbidden.

So he sat here by the window and tried to let the beauty of the night and
the presence of his lover soothe his soul and calm his fears.  It wasnıt
working.  Only one thing could bring peace to his heart tonight . . . the
voice of his beloved Master.  So he waited.  

Surely, surely the Master would not let the night pass into day without
coming to him.  He looked over at Marco.  Maybe it had been a mistake to
bring Marco up here to sleep with him.  But, he had been so sure . . .

³Amadeo,² a voice spoke quietly in his head.  The Master!  Finally!

³Come to me, Amadeo.  Upstairs.²

Upstairs?  Amadeo had never been upstairs.  No one had that he knew.  He
hadnıt known that there was anything up there but the roof.

³Yes, Amadeo,² the voice assured him.  ³Upstairs.  Come.  Giovanni will
show you the way.²

Giovanni?  Who was Giovanni?  There was no response.
.......................
Amadeo went over to the bed and retrieved his robe.  He put it on, and
opening the door as quietly as he could he left the room, leaving the door
ajar.  He didnıt want to make any noise opening it when he got back.

Amadeo walked silently on bare feet down the corridor to the main staircase
and looked up towards the next floor.  It was in total darkness.  No lights
of any kind shone down from the top of the stairs.  He slowly mounted the
stairs, gripping the balustrade with one slim hand until he finally came to
a landing.  He was standing in total darkness.  He looked back down the
staircase for a moment to the faint light from the torches in the
downstairs corridor.  They seemed very far away.

³Master,² Amadeo called hesitantly into the darkness.  He looked one way
down the long upstairs corridor, but it was impossible to see anything.  He
looked the other way, and there at the far end of the corridor was a candle
glimmering in the pitch black of the night.  Amadeo put one hand up against
the corridor wall and started walking towards the light.

As he got closer to the candlelight, Amadeo noticed that a man was holding
it; a man dressed all in black holding one tall candle in a gilded holder. 
Amadeo came right up to the man and they looked at each other for a moment. 
This must be Giovanni.

³This way, Master Amadeo,² the man said, and opened a door beside him that
Amadeo hadnıt even noticed.  Immediately the corridor was filled with soft
radiant light from a well lighted room.  Warmth swept out from the room and
surrounded Amadeo as he stood in the cool darkness of the corridor.  Amadeo
was drawn into that warmth and he barely heard the door closing behind him
as he entered the magnificent room.

The very first thing Amadeo noticed was the carpet.  The moment he stepped
into the room his bare feet came into contact with something infinitely
soft and warm and he looked down to see if he was walking on a cloud.  It
was the thickest carpet that Amadeo had ever seen.  It was a rich ruby red
and covered in intricate designs of flowers and leaves and animals in rich
colours encompassing the rainbow.  He wiggled his toes just to make sure he
hadnıt imagined it.  It was so soft.

When he finally raised his eyes, he started to take in the room he had
entered.  It was a very large room with very high ceilings; higher than any
other room in the palazzo except  the studio, the ceiling of which reached
up two stories high.  

The next thing Amadeo noticed after the fact that the room was so spacious,
was the source of its pervasive light.  Candelabra filled with flickering
flames were stationed on every surface, with some arranged free-standing on
pedestals.  There were more than a dozen of them, each with a row of at
least a dozen candles.  The room seemed to be aflame with their flickering
light.  Amadeo had never seen anything like it before.

There were windows open on the far wall; tall windows with heavy draperies
drawn back.  The star-filled night sky that Amadeo had been admiring from
his own window shone into the room, but could not compete with the
candlelight.  It was a poignant backdrop to the spectacle nonetheless.

There were curtains closing off a great deal of one end of the room and
Amadeo wondered idly what was behind them.  Then he glanced down to the
opposite end of the room and his hesitant steps forward halted abruptly. 
He couldnıt believe his eyes.  If the candles had been a vision out of a
dream, what was this?

An enormous bed, almost a room in itself, with canopy and lush curtains,
reigned supreme in its size and beauty at that end of the room.  And
reclining on it like some eastern potentate in his private boudoir was
Amadeoıs beloved Master.  But this was his Master as he had never seen him
before.

Marius sat up on the bed as Amadeo continued to stare speechlessly at him. 
He was dressed in a beautiful shirt of some fine material that clung to the
broad shoulders and muscular arms.  There was lace at the neck and the
wrists, but the shirt was undone halfway down the glistening white chest,
so the lace just draped limply away from the opening.  The cuffs had not
been buttoned, so the lace there just fell over the backs of Mariusı hands
down to his fingertips.  

There was a lot of strange preternatural skin showing; more than Amadeo had
ever seen the Master display . . . except once.  And it was all white and
glistening with a fine sheen of something unidentifiable in the bright
light.

More startling even than the silky loose shirt almost falling off him, was
what Marius was wearing below the shirt: leggings.  Marius never wore
leggings.  He always wore finely tailored garments of heavy brocades and
velvets.  The cuffs of those garments were the only thing ever seen beneath
the heavy coats that always fell down to thigh level, usually with a cape
overall, reaching to the ground.

But there he sat in leggings that clung to muscled thighs and molded the
strong calves.  And where the leggings ended, were Mariusı bare white feet;
strong and well-sculpted like the feet of some ancient Greek statue. 
Amadeo had never seen Marius in anything but boots.  He was astonished. 
And then he smiled at his astonishment.  Had he thought the Master had no
feet?

Amadeo was still smiling when he raised his eyes to meet Mariusı.  The
Master was amused by his inspection and Amadeo blushed but held the look. 
Marius slid to the side of the bed and held out a hand in welcome.  The
sight was so unusual that Amadeo hesitated.  Was this really the Master? 
Who else could this relaxed, sensuous creature with the white skin and
blazing blue eyes be?

³Come,² was all Marius said.  

The voice was amused as well, but it was definitely the voice of the
Master.  Amadeo moved across the room mesmerized by the vision.  When he
reached the Master he was drawn into strong arms and Amadeo melted into the
familiar strength and security of that embrace.

Marius loosened his arms, but kept them around his beloved.  He looked down
into the bemused young face.

³Well, what do you think?² he asked.

Amadeo was startled.  ³About what?² he asked in turn.

³All this,² Marius gestured to the room.

³Where did you get all the candelabra?²  was all Amadeo could think of to
say.

Marius chuckled.  ³I had Giovanni round them up from all over the palazzo. 
The housekeeper is going to have a fit tomorrow looking for them.²  He
laughed.

Amadeo turned from surveying the brilliant room to gaze into the face of
his Master once more.  The Masterıs face was alive with good humour and
expressions of delight.  Amadeo was entranced with the beauty of it.  He
had never really noticed quite how beautiful the Master was before this
moment.  How strange that he hadnıt.  The Master was really quite, quite
beautiful; white and smooth and sparkling.

Amadeo reached up and slid one hand through the white hair that hung loose
like a cloud around the Masterıs shoulders.  He had always loved the feel
of the Masterıs fine white hair running through his fingers, but tonight it
was softer than usual, as soft as little Ginoıs right after a washing.  It
moved over his hand and through his fingers like something not quite real.

The Master took hold of the hand and bringing it to his mouth, pressed a
kiss into the palm.  

³I wanted light tonight, Amadeo; light, and light, and more light.  I have
had too much of gloom.  Tonight is a very important night, my sweet one. 
Tonight we are going to talk about the future.²

Marius had decided he should let Amadeo make the choice, to accept the gift
or not.  But really, what did a seventeen year old boy know about such
choices with all his life still ahead of him  And, Marius acknowledged to
himself ruefully, he found he wasnıt above trying to influence the decision
in his own favour.

He stood up, and taking Amadeo by the hand, began to lead him around the
room.  They walked over to the curtained-off portion of the room.  Marius
pulled back the curtain to reveal a dressing room with wardrobes and chests
and mirrors and armoires and, incredibly, a bathing tub fit for a king. 
Amadeo just stared openmouthed.  Marius grinned at his expression.

³How would you like to take a bath in that one evening?² Marius asked,
smiling.

Amadeo just looked at him wide-eyed.  He nodded his head.

Marius let the curtain fall and drew Amadeo across the room to a connecting
door to another room.  He pulled it open and they went through into a room
full of wonders.  Tapestries hung on the walls with strange animals and
symbols within their patterns that Amadeo didnıt recognize.  Maps spread
out on a desk.  There were huge chairs  and long couches with deep
upholstered cushions and tasselled pillows.  Strange lamps burned sweet
smelling oil.  

Amadeo inhaled deeply.  Such a strange intoxicating perfume.   This room
wasnıt as well lit, but itıs tall windows led onto an extensive balcony. 
Amadeo looked at Marius with an expectant smile.

³Go ahead,² Marius pointed to the open windows.

Amadeo started across the room towards them.  He ran his hand over the
cushions of one of the chairs; so soft.  He stopped at the windows and
looked back into the room.  Marius was still standing just inside the
doorway, watching him.

³Go ahead,² he encouraged.

³Come with me, Master.  Please?² countered Amadeo nervously.  He had never
been on a balcony before.  He was afraid he might fall.

Marius came up to him.  He took Amadeoıs hand and brushed his lips across
the knuckles.

³Thereıs nothing to fear.  Itıs built right into the walls of the palazzo,²
he assured his young love.  Marius used the hand to pull Amadeo out onto
the balcony.

From three floors up, Marius and Amadeo looked down on most of the
neighbouring buildings.  You could also see almost halfway across the city. 
There were very few lighted windows at this time of night.  But those that
were there looked like twinkling stars come down to earth.  Amadeo looked
straight up into the night sky and felt himself surrounded by stars.  What
a wonderful place, he thought.

³What is this called?² he asked Marius.

³A balcony,² he answered.

³So this is a balcony,² Amadeo sighed.  ³It is a very nice place to be.² He
looked up at his Master with a smile in his eyes and on his face.  ³Thank
you for showing it to me.²

³Itıs yours, Amadeo,² Marius told him.

³What?!² the boy exclaimed.

³When you become part of me . . . with my blood . . . this will all be ours
to share.  I have been waiting a long time for someone to share this with
me, my love.²

Amadeo stepped up close to Marius and wound his arms around him.   He
pressed his face against the soft silky shirt and pressed his fingers into
the same fabric at Mariusı back, his fingers meeting the unyielding
hardness underneath the soft cloth.

³When?  When?² he muttered, hiding his face against the smooth shirt and
its loose ruffles of lace.  

³Soon,² was the only reply.

³How soon?² Amadeo persisted.  

³As soon as I have found a safe place for Marco,² Marius said, his tone
becoming very serious.  He took Amadeo by the shoulders and held him away
from him.  ³Marco could get hurt if we donıt look after him,² Marius added
grimly.  ³You donıt want to see Marco hurt, do you?² Marius questioned him
with one raised eyebrow.

³No!² Amadeoıs response left no doubt.  ³I love Marco!² He looked fearfully
at the Master.  ³Are you angry with us?²

Marius smiled.  He loosened his grasp on Amadeoıs shoulders and rubbed his
thumbs  across the fragile bones beneath his hands.

³No, beloved, Iım not angry at all.  Iım glad you found Marco.  Iım glad he
makes you happy.²

Amadeo didnıt look quite convinced.  ³Why is Marco in danger then, Master?²

³Amadeo,² Marius began, ³when you become a vampire like me, you will need
to drink blood every night for the rest of your existence.  You will need
to kill.  And, like it or not, no matter what your best intentions are, the
sweetest blood you will ever drink, is always the blood of the ones that
you love.²

³No!² Amadeo denied the possibility.  ³No! I would never hurt Marco,² he
exclaimed.

Marius pulled Amadeo back into his arms, but as he said the next words, his
voice was still very serious.  He tipped up the boyıs face so that he could
look into the dark brown eyes.

³You will be tempted, my love.  If Marco is here, and you see him every
evening, you will be tempted.  And tempting a fledging vampire is a very
dangerous thing to do.  A fledgling vampireıs hunger for the blood can
sometimes be uncontrollable.²

³No!  I would never . . .² Amadeo started to protest.

³The chance would always be there, Amadeo,² Marius said, in a voice that
brooked no argument.  ³I, for one, do not intend to take that chance.  I
intend to make sure that Marco is safe, before I bring you to me . . . just
in case.  If you love Marco as much as you say you do, you will see that it
is the only wise choice.  He must be protected.²

³I must lose him to protect him,² Amadeo conceded in a flat voice, still
looking into Mariusı eyes.  His own began to brim with tears.

³Yes, thatıs right,² Marius agreed.  ³But you knew this already, Amadeo.²

³Yes,² Amadeo said.  ³But I hoped . . .² he found he couldnıt voice his
vain wishes out loud.

³I know.  I know.²  Marius stroked the auburn hair away from his young
oneıs face.  He bent down and kissed the sweet lips.  ³Weıll find a place
where he can be happy.²  

Marius pulled Amadeo off of the balcony with one arm around his waist. 
They returned to the sumptuous sitting room.  Before they reached any of
the seats, he started to urge Amadeo towards another connecting door, this
time on the opposite side of the room from the bedroom.   ³Come with me.  I
want to show you something.²

They passed through a door and entered a room that was just as amazing as
the other two.  It was a library,  twice the size of the one downstairs,
and almost every inch of wall space was covered in shelves, and on those
shelves were many, many books; hundreds of them. Amadeo was awestruck.  He
had no idea there were so many books in the world. Some of them where
scrolled.  Some of them were loose sheaves in elaborate holders.  Some of
them were actually bound.  How wonderful.

Marius pulled him further into the room.  Now Amadeo could see that the
walls werenıt really covered in shelves.  Just the far wall facing the door
was.  The other wall held a grand fireplace, as grand as the one in the
sitting room.  And hung on either side of it were a dozen or so paintings. 
Amadeo didnıt recognize any of them, but he could tell they werenıt the
Masterıs.  The only painting of the Masterıs in the room was hung over the
fireplace.  It was the painting of Amadeo surrounded by black-winged
angels.

Amadeo turned in surprise to Marius.  ³You kept it.²

³Of course,² said Marius.  ³I donıt know anyone else who would value it the
way that I do.²

³But why?² Amadeo persisted.  ³You have me.  You donıt really need a
painting, do you?²

³Well,² Marius tried to choose his words carefully.  ³At the time, I still
hadnıt decided whether I was going to keep you with me.²  He turned to face
Amadeo instead of the painting.

³What?² Amadeoıs voice was tiny, frightened, shocked.  He stared at his
beloved Master.

³In fact, I still havenıt decided.²  Marius watched Amadeoıs eyes widen in
panic.

³But, but . . . ,² Amadeo stammered, almost incoherent.  ³You said soon. 
You said you would bring me to you soon.  You said I would be yours
forever.  I want to be yours forever, Master.  Please, Master . . .² 
Amadeo clutched at Mariusı arms.  ³Please!² he cried desperately.

³Calm yourself, Amadeo,² Marius said.

³I canıt!² Amadeo wailed, pressing himself close to his Master.  ³Master?² 
He sounded very close to tears.

³Calm yourself and listen to me,²  Marius pulled the boy into his arms.  ³I
didnıt say that you wouldnıt come to me.  But, I have some questions that
you need to think about first; some questions I want you to answer for my
benefit and for your benefit too.  This is not a simple thing, bringing you
to me.  This is something that will change both our lives forever.  It can
never be undone.²

³I *want* to be with you forever,² Amadeo argued.  

³Do you?² Marius questioned.  ³Wouldnıt you be happier with Marco.  You and
Marco could live here in the palazzo together, just like you do now, being
lovers, working together, for as long as you live.  Think of it; never
having to say good-bye to Marco.²  

³I can say good-bye to Marco,² Amadeo said.  ³If I know Marco is going to
be safe and happy, I can say good-bye to him tomorrow.  But, I need to be
with you, Master.  All I have ever wanted is to be at your side. 
Everything that I am, everything that I have done, is for you, Master. 
Please, Master.  Please let me be with you.  Please take me with you.²

Amadeo clutched at Marius, grabbing handfuls of the silky shirt, trying to
hang on to the Master he felt was slipping away.  Marius just wrapped his
arms around him tighter.

³Iıve tried,² Amadeo continued.  ³Iıve tried so hard to do everything you
wanted of me.   Iıve tried to learn everything you taught me.  I would do
anything for you, Master.  Please donıt ask me to leave your side. 
Please.²

Marius managed to turn Amadeo and steer him back through the doorway into
the sitting room.  He pulled him down onto one of the couches and Amadeo
immediately curled up against him.  

Oh no, thought Marius.  He was sure his young love had grown out of this. 
They had worked so hard to ease Amadeo into independence, and here he was
again clinging, filled with anxiety, fearing abandonment.  They were right
back where they had started.

³I only want you to be happy, Amadeo,² Marius tried to explain and
reassure.  ³I want you to be safe and happy.²

³Being with you makes me happy, Master.  Your special kiss makes me happy. 
I want to be what you are.  I want to know all the things that are hidden
from me.  I want you to drink my blood, and then  . . .² Amadeo stumbled,
unsure, fearful.  ³I want to drink your blood, Master.  I want you to give
me your blood.  Then I can be what you are.  Then I can be happy.²

³You donıt know that, beloved,² Marius sighed against the auburn hair
nestled under his chin.  ³You donıt know what youıre talking about.²

³Yes, I do,² Amadeo insisted.  ³I know.  I did it.²

³Did what?² Marius asked, feeling vaguely uneasy at the tone of Amadeoıs
voice.  He sounded excited and fearful and strangely defiant suddenly.

³I didnıt mean to do it when it happened.  But, afterwards, I kept thinking
about it.  I keep thinking about it, going over and over the whole thing in
my mind.  Maybe I did mean to do it.²

³Do what?² Mariusı voice was raised slightly in exasperation.  ³I have no
idea what you are talking about.²  But Marius had an idea hidden in the
back of his mind, a suspicion that was growing.

³I bit Marco.  And then, and then . . . I tasted the blood.² 

Marius was speechless for a moment.  ³Why did you do that,² he tried to
keep his voice calm, neutral.

³I told you.  I didnıt mean to do it at the time.  It just happened.  But
afterwards, I started thinking about it . . . a lot.²  Amadeo sounded
surprised at his own words.

³You wanted more,² Marius made the suggestion quietly.  ³You wanted to try
it again.²

³Yes.² 

³Did you?² Marius asked gently.

³No!² Amadeo seemed to rebel inwardly at the thought.  ³No.  I couldnıt
hurt Marco deliberately.  Not for any reason.²  He was silent for a long
moment.  ³I did it myself.²

³What?² Marius was bewildered.  ³What do you mean?²

³I cut myself,² Amadeo held out the palm of his hand for Mariusı
inspection.  ³And then I tasted it.²  There was a thin red line across
Amadeoıs palm; not too deep, not too long, just enough for a few drops to
well up to the surface and then scab over.

Marius took the slim young hand in his own and placed a kiss on the mark. 
Then he closed Amadeoıs hand inside his own.

³Donıt do that again,² he said quietly.

³Why not?² Amadeo asked.

³Because you are not yet what I am.  Soon enough for the blood when you are.²

³I want it now,² Amadeo insisted.

³As soon as Marco is settled,² Marius stated firmly.

³How soon will that be,²  Amadeo persisted.

Marius sighed.  Then he smiled.  What a child, he thought.  ³Probably not
until the autumn.  I plan to ask Signore Bellini to take him on as an
apprentice.  I know Marco can handle the challenge.  And Signore Bellini
looks after his apprentices very well.  It will be an ideal opportunity for
Marco.²

³The autumn . . .² Amadeo mused with disappointment.

³Yes,² Marius agreed.   ³Heıs gone to the country for the summer months.  I
have to go north for a time . . .²

³Again?!² Amadeo broke in.

Marius smiled wistfully.  These times always came around too soon for his
Amadeo.  ³Yes, and while Iım away I will call on the Signore and arrange it
all.²

³What if he doesnıt want Marco?²

³He will not say no,² Marius assured his young one.   ³I can be very . . . 
persuasive.²

³The summer is going to seem very long,² Amadeo complained.

³Nonsense,² admonished Marius.  ³Youıll have Marco with you.  You can do as
you please.  Youıre going to have a wonderful time.²  Suddenly he lifted
Amadeoıs face to his and looked intently into the wide brown eyes.  ³Enjoy
the sun while you can, Amadeo.  It will only be a memory once you come to
me.²

Amadeoıs eyes went slightly out of focus while staring into the vivid blue
eyes bent over him.  ³I will try, for you, Master; because you bid me.²  

Marius touched his mind, curious.  Amadeo was imagining that his mouth was
at Mariusı neck.  In an exact recreation of what Marius does to him, Amadeo
was sinking teeth into Mariusı neck and sucking on the wound he had made.

Marius made a decision.  Maybe it was the wrong decision.  Only time would
tell.  He swept Amadeo up in his arms and rose from the couch.  He walked
into the next room and over to the bed he had been reclining on not so long
ago, and lay Amadeo upon it.  His young one clung to the silky shirt and
Marius followed him down onto the coverlet.

Amadeo wrapped his arms around Mariusı neck and tried to pull his Masterıs
head down to encourage the vampire kiss.  

Marius resisted. 

Amadeo pulled back in surprise.  He watched in fascination and fear, and
balanced on the edge of horror, as Marius reached up slowly and nicked the
side of his neck with his fingernail.  Amadeo watched a small line of blood
form along the scratch, and it welled up and started a small path down
towards Mariusı pristine white shirt.

Without thinking, Amadeo leaned forward and started licking the blood. But,
as soon as his tongue touched it, a shock of feeling shot through his body;
part pain, part pleasure.  He jumped back and looked wildly into Mariusı
eyes.  His emotions were swirling, his body was tingling, his head was
swimming.  He did not know what he felt.

Marius merely smiled.  ³Go ahead.  It wonıt bleed for long.  I heal very
quickly.²

Amadeo just stared into those amused blue eyes blazing at him for another
long moment.  Then he bent his head again.  Better prepared this time, he
opened his mouth over the wound and sucked on it as long and as hard as he
could.  His fingers were gripping the cloth of Mariusı shirt once more,
trying to anchor himself in reality, as reality faded away under the
onslaught of sensation that overwhelmed him.

Gradually Amadeo became aware that the cut in Mariusı skin had closed.  But
the taste was still so strong in his mouth that he continued licking at the
wound for long minutes, over and over again.  There was a hunger in him
that had not been satisfied.  And that hunger was growing.

Without really realizing what was happening to him or what he was doing,
Amadeo pressed himself against Marius and moved his body against the hard
one lying so close to his.  A moan came from his throat, but he hardly
seemed aware of it.  He was under the control of his bodyıs response to the
blood, a deep overwhelming excitement running through every vein and
intensifying moment by moment in his groin.

Marius was dumbfounded.  Amadeo had slipped one of his legs over Mariusı
hip and was writhing and grinding himself against Mariusı hardness.  His
robe had become tangled beneath him and was practically off of him
completely.  Marius was gently trying to hold him away, hoping against hope
that as the effects of the blood wore off that his young love would come to
his senses.  But from the whimpering sounds coming from Amadeoıs throat, it
didnıt seem likely.

³Please . . .² Amadeo pleaded.  ³Please touch me . . .²  His voice was
hoarse, his eyes unfocussed, his movements becoming increasingly desperate
as he sought an end to the torment of his arousal.

³Amadeo . . .² Marius tried to bring a voice of reason into the situation.

³Please!² wailed Amadeo, sobbing incoherently.

Marius hesitated.  How can I refuse him, he thought.  Then he reached down
between his young oneıs legs and clasped a strong white hand around the
quivering erection he found there.  He gently began to encourage an orgasm
from his beautiful boy.  How did I get myself into this, he asked himself
with some chagrin.

³Oh . . .² Amadeo moaned at the first touch of that hard hand on his hot
skin.  As his Master began to ease his frustration, Amadeo sighed, ³Yes,²
just once, then subsided into louder and louder moans of pleasure as the
movements of Mariusı hand brought him closer and closer to release.

Amadeo came with a cry, clutching Mariusı hair in both hands.  He came all
over Mariusı hands, all over his leggings, and all over his silky shirt. 
But, for some reason, Marius didnıt mind.  He kept his hand clasped around
Amadeoıs penis until it began to shrink back into its normal somnolent
state.  

All the while he stared, fascinated at the expression that was stamped on
the beautiful face of his boy.  There was a satisfaction and a peace in
those dark luminous brown eyes that went beyond sexual fulfillment.  There
was a deep emotional response shining out from those eyes, and it was meant
only for Marius.

Marius leaned down and kissed the warm lips tenderly.  He pulled Amadeo
against his body, cradling him, pressing him close with his large strong
hands.

³Take my blood,² Amadeo whispered into the hard white column of Mariusı
throat.

Marius pulled back a little and looked into those sleepy eyes again.  

³Youıre exhausted already, my love,² he pointed out.

³Take it anyway,² Amadeo insisted.  ³I belong to you.  My blood belongs to
you.  I want you to take it.²

Marius didnıt want to argue. He bent his head and took a small drink from
the delicious fount of Amadeoıs veins.  He probed his young oneıs mind and
when Amadeo became completely unconscious, he withdrew.

³Well,² he thought to himself with some humour.  ³I guess we wonıt try that
one again anytime soon.²  He laughed inwardly at his own embarrassment. 
Amadeo had not been embarrassed at all, the little imp. 
.......................

Something disturbed Marco in his sleep.  He stretched a bit and then turned
over and opened his eyes . . . and looked right into the mesmerizing blue
gaze of the Master.  Marco blinked.  It was all he could do, he felt frozen
in panic.

³Itıs all right, Marco,² the Master said in a quiet tone.  ³Amadeo is
asleep.²

Only then did Marco become aware that the tall figure was in the process of
lowering Amadeo to the bed.

³Try not to wake him,² the Master said gently, and he looked down at his
beloved as he settled him against the pillow.

³I wonıt,² Marco assured him, very seriously, in a whisper.

³Good,² was Mariusı only comment.  He smiled benevolently at Marco and then
pulled the coverings over Amadeoıs sleeping nakedness.  He bent and brushed
his pale lips gently across the top of Amadeoıs head, not disturbing a
hair.  Then, with another smiling glance at Marco, he turned and drifted
quietly from the room.  The door closed with a slight noise, but Amadeo
didnıt stir.

Mariusı young apprentice stared down at the sleeping face of his lover.  He
looked so peaceful, so contented, so beautiful.  Marco had not heard Amadeo
leave during the night, but it was obvious that he had gone to be with the
Master after Marco fell asleep. 

Marco sighed quietly in resignation.  It would always be so.  He had seen
the knowledge in the Masterıs eyes; that look of possessiveness and
complete confidence in the devotion of his Amadeo.  He was allowing Amadeo
to have Marco for a lover because it made Amadeo happy.  But how long would
it last?  Marco sighed again at his own foolishness.  It didnıt really
matter.  He had Amadeo beside him now.  He had had him all evening . . .
and all afternoon.  It would have to be enough.

The head of unruly black hair was laid back down on the pillow beside the
one that held Amadeoıs head.  It was almost morning.  The air in the room
had cooled during the night, and the first faint stirrings of the city
could be heard coming in the wide open window.  He would just lie here
beside Amadeo and get a little more sleep.  And perhaps the angels would
smile on him, and he would have Amadeo all to himself again today.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................


There was a loud crash somewhere in the palazzo and Amadeo was instantly
awake, but did not move.  The crash was followed by a stream of invective
from an irate female voice.  Amadeo smiled; morning in the palazzo.  

He was so comfortable and so happy he didnıt want to move.  And then he
thought, the Master! . . . and his eyes flew open.  But it was only Marcoıs
sleeping face that met his eyes.  He was back in his own bed.  Of course,
he thought, and smiled again, this time in self-mockery.  The Master would
hardly be here in bed beside him, now would he.  He chuckled softly to
himself at the thought.

Amadeo lay for a few precious moments just admiring the tousled head of
black hair on the pillow, and the relaxed expression on the face of his
lover beside him.  What was it about Marco that so attracted him?  His
features were good-looking, and he had a fine physique for a
sixteen-year-old.  But, that was not it.

Marcoıs eyes slowly opened, as if he had been aware of the silent scrutiny. 
And as soon as his gaze met Amadeoıs, Amadeo had his answer.

The expression in the black eyes told him everything he should have known. 
And it wasnıt just the naked adoration on the face opposite him.   There
was a wild glint of laughter just held in check, a wicked squint that spoke
of a plot brewing in that agile mind, and a twist to the lips that spoke
volumes about the acknowledged but unspoken brevity of their ownerıs future
happiness.

³Good morning, Marco,²  Amadeo whispered, trying to keep a straight face.

³Good morning, caro,²  Marco answered in a whisper that was fierce in its
determination to still the laughter quivering on Amadeoıs pursed lips.  He
launched himself at his lover and was soon holding a squirming, giggling
Amadeo by dint of sheer weight.  He was sitting on him, holding him flat to
the bed.

Marco leaned over slowly, teasing, and let his lips hover over Amadeoıs. 
The auburn head tossed impatiently.  The hands trying to pull him down were
not making any headway against the braced arms on either side of his head. 
Amadeo lowered his eyes in surrender and a picture perfect pout appeared on
the beautiful lips.

Marco groaned and gave in.  Despite the playful struggle beforehand, the
kiss they shared was gentle and tender.  Marco gradually became aware of
something he should have noticed last night.  He sniffed.  Yes, there it
was; the unmistakable aroma of sex.

He wasnıt really surprised that the Master and Amadeo seemed to have
consummated their love for each other last night.  He was only surprised it
had taken them so long.  As far as Marco was concerned, Amadeo was the most
seductive and entrancing creature he had ever seen.  It would take a saint
to be able to resist his potent allure.

Marco sighed heavily and pulled back slowly, reluctantly.  He slid to the
side of the bed.  Amadeo just lay there watching him with a look of
affection clearly brightening his face.  He was amused about something. 
Maybe he thought Marco was just teasing again, and didnıt really mean to
leave the bed.

³Time to get up,² Marco said.  He couldnıt keep his feelings from showing
on his face.

³Whatıs wrong?² Amadeo asked immediately.  He had not missed the look of
disappointment.

³Nothing,² replied Marco, trying to wipe all expression from his face and
sound nonchalant.

³Marco . . .² Amadeo obviously didnıt believe him.  And he wasnıt going to
leave it alone either.  ³What?² he repeated, tipping his head sideways,
very serious.

Oh, what the hell, thought Marco.  He slid back onto the bed and leaned
over the still-reclining Amadeo.  Closing his eyes, pretending to be
concentrating by drawing his brows together, he inhaled as slowly and
loudly as he could.  Then, he opened his eyes, looked deeply into his
loverıs, and raised an eyebrow in a deliberate questioning look.

Amadeo looked puzzled.  He mirrored Marcoıs actions, closing his eyes,
bringing his brows together in concentration and inhaling slowly and
deeply.  His eyes flew open in shocked recognition and he stared wide-eyed
at Marco.  Slowly a pink blush began to suffuse his face, and he looked
away for a moment.  Then, deliberately, he met Marcoıs gaze again and a
very broad, very satisfied, very cocky grin spread from ear to ear across
his face.

Marco was hardly surprised at this point.  ³Should I ask?² he said.

³Donıt,² Amadeo admonished.

³Should I be jealous?²  Marco asked.

³It wonıt do you any good,²  his lover answered with a slight smile.

³Do I get my turn today?² Marco tried to look angry and fierce and jealous
and possessive.  He only managed to look ridiculous.

³Of course,² came the sly reply.

A knock sounded loudly in the quiet room.  Both boysı heads swivelled to
the bedroom door.  Amadeo practically jumped out of the bed and, once he
was standing, started to search fruitlessly for his robe.

³Where is my robe?² he asked Marco as he got on his knees to look under the
bed.

³Did you wear it on your visit to the Master?² Marco asked him with a
teasing tone.

³Of course I wore it,² Amadeo got up again and glared impatiently at Marco. 
³Do you think I wander around the palazzo at night with no robe on?²  

³I have no idea what you do while Iım sleeping, caro,² was the smart reply.

Another knock sounded on the bedroom door, this time a little louder.

³Where is it?² Amadeo looked pleadingly at Marco, as if he was hiding it
from him.

³You werenıt wearing it when the Master brought you to bed,² Marco told him
in an unconcerned voice.  He did not know why Amadeo was so agitated.  Why
didnıt he just open the door?  ³I woke up when he came in with you,² Marco
continued.

³It must still be in his chambers,² Amadeo whispered to himself.  He
hurried over to the wardrobe.  ³I must have another one in here somewhere.² 
He swung open the wardrobe doors and started frantically rummaging through
the contents.  In moments he had pulled out another robe, this one much
heavier and clearly meant for cold winter nights.

There was another rapping at the door.

Amadeo looked up from tying his robe and saw Marco lying naked and
unconcerned among the disheveled bed coverings.  

³Get under the covers you hedonist,² he admonished his lover.

³Why?² Marco was surprised.  ³Everyone in the palazzo has seen me taking a
bath in the kitchen at some time or other.  Who do you think is out there
that I should worry whether they see me naked or not?²

³Well, only you and the Master have seen *me* naked,² Amadeo retorted, ³and
Iıd like to keep it that way.²

³Fine,² answered Marco, not making any moves to pull up the bedcovers.

Amadeo scowled fiercely at him and then sighed.  Perhaps it didnıt matter,
he thought.  

³Come,² he called out.

The door opened slowly and a young servant no older than Marco and Amadeo
pushed it wide.  He turned and bent to pick up a basin and pitcher of water
and keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him, carefully made his way
to the chest some dozen feet inside the room that was pushed up against the
wall.  He placed his burden there very deliberately, then turned to retrace
his steps, still not looking up.

Amadeo was silent, not wanting to distract the boy or draw his attention to
the occupants of the room.  However, Marco had other ideas.

Just as the boy reached the door and grasped the handle, Marco spoke, his
voice ringing loudly in the silent room.

³Thank you, Benno,² he said.  He wore a smile that was positively brimming
over with mischief.

The startled boy turned towards the unexpected voice and looked up.

Amadeo groaned.

The serving boy took in the room at a glance:  Master Amadeo, wrapped neck
to ankles in his winter robe, was standing in front of the open wardrobe
with his hands hiding his face, making the most distressing noises, and
Marco, one of the Masterıs apprentices, was lounging on the unmade bed
naked and grinning as if at some huge joke.  

Benno was flustered at seeing them there together, even though he knew
there was the chance that he would when he was asked to take the water up
to Master Amadeo. He didnıt know whether he was supposed to make some
response or not.  He just threw a nervous smile at Marco and then hurried
out and closed the door quickly behind himself with a sigh of relief.  From
inside the room, Benno could hear the sound of laughter.

Marco laughed and laughed.  Amadeo lowered his hands and looked with
reproach at him.

³Poor Amadeo,² Marco crooned.  ³And you blush so wonderfully, too,² he
teased.

Amadeo came over and sat down on the side of the bed.

³Tormentor,² he accused.

³Guilty,² confessed Marco, but he couldnıt stop grinning.   He picked up
Amadeoıs hands where they lay folded in his lap and brought them to his
lips.  Did Amadeo not understand that he had to laugh, had to play the
fool, or the situation he found himself in this morning would have had him
in tears?  Might as well get it over with, he thought.

³Well,² he began.  ³What has the Master decided to do with me?²

Amadeo raised startled eyes to his.  ³How did you . . . ² he blurted out
and then caught himself.  He bit his lip as if to stop himself from saying
something that he might wish later he hadnıt.

³How do you think?² Marco answered wryly.  ³The Master brought you back
naked in his arms at the crack of dawn and smelling of sex.  What am I
supposed to think?  Now that you and he are lovers, Iım kind of in the way,
wouldnıt you say?²  He hoped he didnıt sound bitter.  He wasnıt really,
just disappointed that their time had been so short.

³No,² Amadeo was emphatic.  He wriggled his fingers to release them from
Marcoıs grip.  He used them to cup Marcoıs face instead, caressing the
cheeks gently with his thumbs.  ³You are mine and I am yours.  Always,² he
declared passionately.

Marco just stared at him in disbelief.  How could Amadeo believe that now?

³How?² he asked.  Was that hoarse sound coming from his throat *his* voice,
Marco wondered.

³Just believe it,² Amadeo assured him.  The look in his eyes was completely
serious, the voice calm, the hands warm.  ³Last night the Master and I
mostly talked.  We talked about many things.  We talked about my future. 
And we talked about yours.²

³Mine?² questioned Marco nervously.

³Yes,² Amadeo answered.

³Itıs not going to be the same as yours, is it?² he questioned.  This was
very hard.

³No,²  Amadeo agreed.  ³Thatıs not possible.  You already knew that, didnıt
you?² he asked gently.

³Yes,² Marco sighed resignedly.  ³But I hoped . . .²

³No,² Amadeo sounded as regretful as Marco.  Marco was glad to hear that
note in his loverıs voice.  It reassured him, strangely enough.

³But donıt worry.  Itıs not all as bad as it sounds, or as you have been
imagining.  The Master has some wonderful plans for you.²

³Plans?² Marco sounded bewildered.  He wished Amadeo would make up his
mind.  ³What do you mean by plans?² he asked.  ³Am I going to be sent away,
or not?²

³The Master is going to ask Signore Bellini to take you on as a true
apprentice,² Amadeo declared.  He watched Marcoıs face for some sign of how
he would take this bit of news.  A smile of relief started to steal across
his features as he witnessed his loverıs reaction.

³Signore Bellini?² Marco almost croaked the name out.  He cleared his
throat, and tried again.  ³Signore Bellini?²  This time his voice came out
a high-pitched squeak.

³Yes.²  Amadeoıs smile grew.

³Me, to be apprenticed to Signore Bellini, one of the most famous artists
in all Venice, in all Italy?²

³Yes,² Amadeo agreed, nodding.

³Amadeo . . .² Marco didnıt know what to say.

³The Master will be going away for a time,² Amadeo explained.  ³Signore
Bellini has already left the city to spend the summer months in the
country.  While the Master is away he will go to see the Signore and
persuade him to take you on as apprentice this autumn when he comes back to
his studio in the city.  If you work hard and manage to do well, youıll be
able to continue working in his studio for as long as you want.  The Master
was telling me he has met one of the Signoreıs other apprentices at a
patronıs villa not long ago, and that young man has his own portrait studio
now.  What do you think of that?  Someday, maybe even having your own
studio, Marco!²

Marco remained speechless.  Signore Bellini . . . an apprenticeship . . .
portrait studios . . .   His mind was going in circles.  But one thing was
clear to him.  He would not be going anywhere until the autumn.  He and
Amadeo had the whole long hot summer to spend together.  Marco smiled,
finally, thinking about it.  The whole summer was theirs to store up enough
memories to last a lifetime. 

.............................................................................
.............................................................................


Autumn had come.  Marco had gone.  Amadeo was waiting.  

The Master was on another of his long journeys that too often took him away
from Venice and the palazzo.  He seemed to have been gone a long time, but
in truth, it was not any longer than the other times he had been away.  It
just seemed much longer to Amadeo now that he did not have Marco at his
side any longer.  Still, the Master was due back any evening now, and
Amadeo was waiting anxiously for any sign of his return.

One night, during the long nights of waiting, when sleep would not come, he
had taken a candle and gone down the cold dark and unlit cellar stairs,
against all the rules, to search for where the Master might lay during the
daylight hours.  Amadeo hoped that soon he would lay there as well.

There was no source of light anywhere down there; no torches in sconces, no
candles in holders, no windows to let in any daylight.  He had wandered
slowly down cold stone corridors, sometimes through large puddles of icy
cold water, and searched an endless series of large stone vaults.  

After what seemed like hours, he came to a small set of stairs leading
down, even below canal level, to a heavily locked door.  But he didnıt dare
break the lock.  He just stood there for the longest time, shivering, with
his body pressed against that cold hard unyielding door.  Then he retraced
his steps back to the comfort of his bedchamber, but there was no comfort
for him in the luxurious bed.  He cried himself to sleep for the first time
since he was a little boy; quietly, so as not to disturb the eerie empty
stillness that filled the night.

.............................................................................
.....................................

The few possessions that Marius had taken on his journey would be delivered
from the wharves in the morning.  Marius himself had just landed on the
balcony outside his private rooms and paused for a moment studying the few
lights of the city, that to his preternatural eyes, stood out like beacons. 
Home.  

He opened the balcony doors and entered.  Hearth.  This sitting room was
his favourite room in the whole palazzo; so comfortable and yet filled with
a myriad of treasures that any collector of antiquities would envy.

He drew off his cloak and slung it over a chair.  He sat down in his
favourite chair for relaxing, and let himself sink into the upholstery.  He
propped his feet on the footstool and rested his head back, closing his
eyes.  Finally, with precision, he reached out with his mind to touch his
Amadeo.  Family.

Marius wanted to change from his travelling clothes before going to his
beloved, but he couldnıt wait for that first contact.  He had to have it
now.

The first thing he sensed was distress.  He searched the palazzo
peripherally, but everything was quiet.  Whatever was causing Amadeo
distress, it did not seem to have anything to do with his immediate
situation.  

Marius delved further and he came to realize that Amadeo was dreaming.  
No, this was definitely a nightmare.  Amadeoıs anxiety was increasing every
moment that he was caught in it.

Marius could see Amadeo wandering down endless dark stone corridors with
only a candleflame to light his way.  It looked vaguely like their own
palazzo cellars but the ceiling height was enormous, and the corridors
branching off in all directions at random intervals.  The flickering
candlelight made Amadeoıs shadow quiver and surge along the walls, so that
at times they seemed to grow to gigantic proportions and literally hover,
almost menacingly, over the figure of the young boy.

And the Amadeo of the dream did seem younger, and smaller.  He was dressed
only in a nightshirt, with feet bare, and he shivered with the cold of the
wet stone floor beneath his feet.  Occasionally he had to wade through
water that chilled him to the bone and carried the stench of the canal
sewers.  Amadeo put a hand up over his nose, but it didnıt help.

Down one corridor after another the frightened boy wandered.  His journey
seemed endless, his apprehension overwhelming.  Marius wondered why Amadeo
hadnıt woken up from it by now.  But it continued and continued, and Marius
was just about to break the link and go to his young love, when the tenor
of the dream changed.

Excitement.  Amadeo had reached a cavernous chamber and the shadows grew in
proportion, sending terror into the young boyıs heart.  Yet he headed for
an archway on the far side of the room, so small to be almost
indistinguishable from any other feature of the room.

Suddenly Mariusı interest was caught.  That archway was very familiar. 
That was the opening to his vault in the cellar.  Amadeo had been in the
cellar!  He must have been; but when?

The boy reached the arch and descended the few steps, turned to the heavy
wooden door with its heavy metal lock . . . and opened the door with one
hand.  Impossible, thought Marius.  It would take at least two full grown
strongly muscled men to open that door even a fraction.  Yet Amadeo just
grasped the handle and opened the mysteriously unlocked door.

He entered the chamber within.  It was small and held only one coffin. 
Amadeo held the candle high and stared at that coffin.  Then searching for
somewhere to put down the candle, he found a ledge along one end of the
room, and placed it there.  Then he approached the coffin.

Amadeo slowly lifted the lid.  There Marius lay, in his red velvet cape,
sleeping the sleep of the dead.  Amadeo touched his Masterıs cold white
cheek with his chilled and trembling hand.  He pressed his palm flat on
Mariusı chest.   He tried to take one of the still white hands into his
own, but could not lift either of them from where they lay on Mariusı
chest.

This failure seemed to break some barrier in Amadeoıs self control, for he
flung himself across the coffin at this point, practically climbing into it
with the frozen body of his Master.  He sobbed and wailed and tears poured
out of him as if from a natural fount.  And all the while he called,
³Master . . .   Master . . .²

This seemed to release Amadeo from the dream.  Marius felt him sit up in
bed, crying and disoriented.  He was still caught up in the misery of the
dream, even though now he was wide awake.  The sobbing cry still left his
lips in the silence of the bedchamber.  ³Master . . .   Master . . .²

Marius rose at once and went to him.  

.............................................................................
..........................................................

Amadeo looked up through his tears as the door to his chamber opened.  He
was startled and frightened.  It was very late, long past midnight.

The Master appeared in the doorway.  He paused there for a moment frozen at
the sight of his beautiful boy and then came towards the bed.

Amadeo gave a cry as soon as he saw Mariusı face and launched himself off
the bed and into his beloved Masterıs arms.  Marius swung him up close to
his chest.  Amadeo wrapped his arms around the unyielding column of his
Masterıs neck and clung for dear life.  No words passed his lips, but he
was moaning piteously and uncontrollably into Mariusı shoulder.

Marius closed the door behind him with a mental nudge, and swiftly carried
Amadeo over to the bed.  He set him down upon the coverlet and reached for
the heavy robe hanging over the carved footboard.  He held it open and
Amadeo stood up and allowed himself to be dressed in it.  Marius wrapped it
snugly around him, over the flannel gown that hung to his knees.  Then he
tucked his young love into the bed and pulled the heavy layers of sheets
and blankets around him until he looked like a butterfly just emerging from
a cocoon.  Marius smiled at him.  Amadeo tried to smile back, but his lips
wouldnıt stop trembling.

Finally, Marius lay down on the bed beside his Amadeo and pulled him into
his arms.  He looked for long moments into the wide brown eyes, and then
cupping the fragile head in one hand, he pulled the face into his shoulder
and tipped up the chin, exposing the vulnerable throat.  He bent his head
and took the vein with his gentlest vampire kiss.  Amadeo quivered for an
instant, and then relaxed almost bonelessly against his Master.  A long
shuddering sigh escaped from his parted lips and then there was silence.

Marius entered Amadeoıs mind and found what he expected to find there.  The
boy was overwhelmed, as always, mind, body and soul, by the pleasure of the
bite.  But Marius was determined to soothe him even further.

He searched the mind, looking for the nightmare, image by hidden image. 
There it was.  Amadeo became restless in Mariusı strong embrace as the
nightmare played itself out for his Masterıs benefit.   When it came to the
part where Amadeo opened the coffin in the cold stark candlelit vault,
Marius impressed his mind upon his young oneıs subconscious, and began to
change the dream.

In Amadeoıs mind, he reached out to touch his cold white Master.  With that
first touch, Marius opened his eyes and meeting Amadeoıs peering down at
him, smiled reassuringly, his expression one of pure adoration.

³Master . . .² Amadeo whispered.

³You have come to me, my Amadeo,² Marius welcomed him.  He sat up in the
coffin and reached out his arms to his beloved.

Amadeo went into the waiting arms without hesitation.  Marius enfolded him
and pulled his boy into the coffin with him, laying him down gently on top
of himself.   Amadeo snuggled close and closed his eyes.  As the coffin lid
lowered by itself, Marius sank his fangs into the throat of his loved one.

Marius slowly withdrew from Amadeoıs mind.  There were no frightening
images remaining there now; only the darkness of the coffin and the
pleasure of the bite.  Darkness . . . and pleasure . . .

It was time.

.............................................................................
.

The palazzo was quiet as the sun set on another day.  Amadeo waited
patiently at the top of the steep stone stairs that led down, down, down
into the pitch blackness of the unlit cellar.  

He wished he dared go down those steep stone steps and seek out that cold
stone vault.  But he dared not.  He wished with all his heart to stand
guard over his sleeping Master during the day.  But his Master forbade it.
So all Amadeo could do was wait.  Again.  It seemed to the boy that his
life of late had become consumed with the need to wait.  He tried to wait
as best he could.  But it was not an easy task.

Amadeo went back out into the corridor and along to the courtyard to check
how far the sun had yet to sink below the horizon.  How much longer would
he have to wait tonight? 

He stood still in the shadow of the building and watched the changing
colours of the sky.  Would he miss it when he had changed?  Would he miss
the heat of the day and the fierce intensity of the sun when the Master
finally brought him into his dark world?  He might, he conceded to himself. 
But there would be so much more waiting for him in the new life; a whole
secret world that he had only had a glimpse of so far.  And it all waited
for him . . . in the blood.

The sunıs light finally passed lower than the roof of the palazzo and
Amadeo shivered as the shadows deepened.  He turned and hastily made his
way back to his position at the stairtop.  Before he had fully traversed
the corridor, he saw a tall figure standing there, watching him approach. 
Amadeoıs heart began to beat faster and he flew the rest of the way to his
Masterıs waiting embrace.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................


Marius stood on the wooden scaffolding, painting the gilded clouds in a
glorious panorama of a sky on a tall panel, one of three, meant to grace
the hall of a wealthy countıs gracious palazzo.  He and his young one were
alone in the studio.  It was well into the dark reaches of the night and
the apprentices had been sent to bed hours ago.  Amadeo prepared the pots
of paint and Marius worked with preternatural speed in the light of the
torches that would blaze throughout the night.

The silence was companionable between the Master and his Amadeo. 
Occasionally Amadeo asked questions, but Marius could tell that he was
distracted.

³What is worrying you tonight, beloved?²  Marius stopped painting and came
to the edge of the scaffolding to peer down at his loved one.

³Nothing,² replied Amadeo.  He smiled up at his Master to prove to him that
he spoke the truth.  It was a vain hope, as always.

³Amadeo,² Marius spoke with a gentle warning smile.  His tone said he would
not be fooled by a ploy as blatant as that.  ³Tell me,² he urged and kept
his eyes trained on the boy, searching for any signs of distress.

³Itıs really nothing,² Amadeo said wistfully.   ³Iım just tired of all the
waiting, thatıs all.²

³The waiting?² Marius asked.

³Yes,² Amadeo agreed.  ³The waiting is hard to bear sometimes.²  He looked
up at Marius with a pleading expression on his face.  ³When will you take
me with you?² he asked.  ³This place is so empty during the day when you
are not here.  When can I spend the days as well as the nights with you?²

Marius could see that the waiting was indeed proving to be of no useful
purpose.  His young one got more morose and melancholic every evening.  It
seemed sometimes to Marius that his beloved had already said goodbye to his
old life, and was just waiting, as patiently as he could, for the new one
to begin.

He had hoped to give his Amadeo a little more time before bringing him to
him.  But, his intentions were not being fulfilled.  Marius sighed.  He had
been fighting the feeling that only he held his sweet boyıs fate in his
hands, which was, of course, preposterous.  But the fact was, such a
suggestion was undeniably seductive to an immortal creature such as he. 
Amadeo seemed more helpless and dependent than ever and he could see no
good coming of waiting further for some miracle of maturity that would
never materialize.

³Tonight, beloved.  You will be mine forever, from tonight.²  Marius smiled
down at his young one sadly.  There was no right decision to be made here. 
It was something which just had to be.  He could see that now.

Amadeoıs smile encompassed his face.   He slowly sank back onto the cold
marble floor and lowered his gaze to his hands thoughtfully.  It was
finally here.  The night he had been looking forward to for so long was
here.  Immortality with his beloved Master within his grasp.   All it would
take was his Masterıs delicate and deadly kiss and he would never be alone
again.  Ever.  The scope of it was hard for his mind to grasp, but he knew
that it was something he had to have, a desire that had taken over his
life.

When he looked up again the Master was just stepping down from the
scaffolding.  He looked at Amadeo for a long moment, smiling, and then
turned to see to his brushes.

Amadeo got up and started clearing away the paints, and cloths and other
paraphernalia of the Masterıs work.  This was it, he thought with mounting
excitement.  This was the moment.

Marius finished cleaning off his hands and turned to find his boy waiting
patiently enough for him.  But he could sense the tremours from here, sense
the overwhelming emotions filling his young body and mind.

Marius went to him and pulled him into his arms, hugging him close for
endless silent minutes.

³Oh, Master,² Amadeo breathed against the broad chest, his arms around
Mariusı waist, fingers grasping folds of velvet fabric.

³Come,²  Marius urged him gently.  Keeping one arm around his beloved he
led him from the room, down the corridor, slowly up the long flight of
stairs to the top floor of the palazzo.  This would be the last time he
would bring his tender mortal lover to him to spend the night in this
palatial bed.  Forever after this night his Amadeo would sleep in a coffin,
the same as he.

They traversed the black upstairs corridor together, Marius leading the
way.  They entered the familiar spacious bedchamber and Marius closed the
door behind them with a click.  No one would disturb them now.

The room looked quite different from the first time Amadeo had been there. 
There were only two candelabra in the room this time, free-standing on
pedestals.  One was by the door.  They passed it as they entered the room. 
One was by the tall windows which were now closed tight with curtains drawn
against the chill autumn night.  The only other illumination was one tall
candle on a table near the bed.  Its light fell on the curtains of the big
bed and shimmered on the folds of heavy velvet.

Marius led Amadeo over to the bed and pulled back the heavy concealing
curtains.  Amadeo crawled up and sat waiting in the centre of the bed, his
eyes enormous brown pools in his white face.

Marius joined him after he had shed his coat and his boots.  He took his
sweet one in his arms and kissed him gently and sweetly trying to calm the
trembling that was threatening to overtake his young body.  

³Calm yourself, my darling one,² Marius crooned when he pulled back to look
into those wide questioning eyes.  ³This is not a torture to be endured. 
This is just a journey that we must take together.  And the taking of your
blood will be filled with as much pleasure as always.  We will experience
it together, as always, Amadeo.  And through the pleasure, and through any
pain, I will bring you to me.  I will be here holding you every moment, my
love.  I will not let go of you until you want me to.  Do you understand?²

Amadeo nodded.  He couldnıt seem to find words to express the frightening
mixture of excitement and fear and love that filled his mind.  He just
gazed mutely, raptly into the brilliant eyes of his Master.

Marius loosened the ties on Amadeoıs tunic, finally pulling it off him
completely.  He pulled the linen shirt he found underneath out of the
confining leggings.  Then he lay his sweet boy down on the bed and leaning
over him he kissed him once more, very gently.  When he pulled back,
Amadeoıs eyes were closed.

³My love, you need to do something for me.  This is very important, so
listen carefully.  You must do as I ask.  It may be difficult, but I will
help you for as long as I can.²  Marius looked down into the wide brown
eyes that had opened at his words. 

³You do not need to be afraid.  I want you to keep your eyes open this time
when I drink.  I know you prefer to close your eyes and relax, but that
will not be enough to keep you with me this time.  I need you to stay
conscious for as long as you can.  I need you to concentrate on keeping
your eyes open and listening to my mind-voice.  I will talk to you and you
must listen and try your hardest to do what I ask.  Will you do that for
me?²

Amadeo found his voice and whispered, ³Yes, Master.²  He reached up with
one slender hand and traced the outline of Mariusı lips.  Marius parted his
lips and a slim finger slid inside and fingered the tip of one lethal fang.

Marius took hold of that tender mortal flesh and turning the palm towards
his face pressed his lips into the pulse that beat at the fragile wrist. 
He let it beat against his lips for an endless moment, feeling the blood
lust rising inside him.  His lust for the blood would carry them through
the first half of the ritual and Amadeoıs would carry them through the
rest.

Marius tore his gaze away from the look that blazed in his young loverıs
eyes and looked at the single candle on the dresser near them.

³See that candle, Amadeo?²

His young one turned his head and looked at the candle and its flame that
had a slight flicker in the moving air currents of the drafty room.

³You must keep your eyes on that candle as I drink from you, my love. 
Concentrate on that candle flame.  I will do the rest.²  Marius looked back
at his boy, who now seemed mesmerized by the candleıs light.  ³Weıll begin
now.  All right?²

Amadeo glanced back at his Master.  His Masterıs face was filled with an
expression that spoke of love and tenderness and yearning that Amadeo
understood.  He felt it himself.

³Yes.²

Marius hesitated a moment longer.  He watched his boyıs eyes return to the
candle in readiness.  He hoped he was doing the right thing.  This was the
last time he would see that mortal flush in his young oneıs cheeks, the
last time he would caress the warm human flesh.  His Amadeo was going to
lose so much with this transformation.  He hoped that what they gained
would be worth the price they were paying.  Marius hoped that they would
not come to regret this nightıs act of desperate need.

Marius bent his head to kiss the tender vein in his belovedıs neck.  Then
slowly and gently, he slid his fangs through the skin and began to drain
Amadeoıs young life away.

The first few seconds overwhelmed him as always, his senses reeling with
the taste of his beloved, the hot blood on his tongue, the feel of the
young strong heart beating in his very veins.   The last time . . . the
last time . . . the last time . . .  

Mariusı thoughts swirled and were caught up in the urgency of the blood for
long exquisite moments.  But as the first flush of pleasure ebbed, he
reached out with his mind for his Amadeo, for the sweet soul that he must
usher into eternity.

With the bite of the fangs into his neck Amadeo had gasped but soon grown
quiet.  Marius felt now that his young one had swooned with the pleasure of
the feeding.  He pulled back and took Amadeoıs chin in one white hand.  He
tapped the still-flushed cheek and Amadeoıs eyes opened slowly.

Marius shook his head with a rueful smile.  He knew exactly how his beloved
felt.  Those first few moments were always very intense.

³You must try harder to keep your eyes on the candle flame, my love,² he
admonished.  He tried to sound stern, but was afraid he failed.  Amadeo
just smiled a sheepish sort of grin.

³Yes, Master.  I tried, but . . .²

³I know.  I know.  I feel it too, beloved.  But this is too important.  We
will have a millenium of nights to share sensual pleasures together. 
Tonight we must concentrate and do this right.²

³Yes, Master.²

³Iıll talk to you, Amadeo.  You just concentrate on the candle and my
voice,² Marius instructed.  He took the boyıs chin in his hand again and
turned his face towards the candle flame.  Then he bent to drink.

³Do you see the flame, Amadeo?² Marius spoke to his beloved as he entered
Amadeoıs mind and began to see through his eyes.

Amadeo tried to form words but his mouth would not obey.  So, he just
thought to himself, ³Yes, Master.  I see it.²

³Keep looking, beloved,² Marius instructed as the blood threatened to take
over his senses again.  ³Is it changing colour?²

³No,² came the faint response from the swooning boy, trying to hold onto
the vision of the candle.  ³Yes,² he changed his mind.  ³Itıs growing
brighter.  Itıs so bright it hurts my eyes.  Oh, Master!²

³Keep looking, Amadeo,² Marius encouraged.

³It has a blue heart,² Amadeo sent into their joined minds.  His thoughts
were losing some of their clarity.  ³The heart of the flame . . . itıs so
blue . . . and it . . . pul . . . ses, ² his voice trailed off.  His eyes
were mesmerized by the pulsing blue flame that seemed to fill his eyesight,
fill his mind to the exclusion of all else.

³Do you feel that pulsing flame in your body, Amadeo?² Marius asked,
drinking . . . drinking . . .

³Yes . . .²  Amadeoıs thoughts were unfocussed, drifting for a moment, as
if searching for something just out of reach.  ³I feel it,² he finally
agreed.  This discovery seemed to bring his mind out of the haze of
pleasure that had been swamping it.  ³I feel it,² he sounded elated and
surprised at the discovery.  ³I feel the heart of the flame.  I feel it
pulsing . . . everywhere!²

³That pulsing heat is the beat of your heart, beloved,² Marius told him. 
³That pulsing beat is your heart pumping your life into my veins.  And soon
you will feel the pulsing beat of mine.²

³Itıs . . .² Amadeo seemed to be losing touch with the pulse and it grieved
him.   It had been so beautiful.  ³Itıs fading . . . the blue . . . blue .
. .  itıs almost . . . gone . . .²

Marius could feel Amadeoıs consciousness slipping away.  His heartbeat had
suddenly grown very faint as if death had decided to take a hand in the
proceedings.

³See it, Amadeo.  Keep your eyes on it, beloved.  Listen to me. Listen!
Weıre almost there!² Marius was tense waiting for the moment that was
almost upon them. He felt the pulse of Amadeoıs heart falter and almost
stop.  It fluttered for an endless time and Marius knew he had to do it
now.

He pulled back from his young oneıs throat.  He had drained him so
thoroughly that the two holes in his throat did not even seep blood. He
could see the deathly pallor and hear the hollow rattle of his Amadeoıs
breathing.  He bit deeply into his wrist and held the oozing wound to his
darlingıs gaping mouth.

Amadeo seemed to freeze as the first gush of blood entered between his wide
open lips.  All breath stopped in his lungs and his body stiffened on the
bed. 

 Marius cried out in panic, ³Amadeo!²

The eyes flew open wide and both slim hands suddenly came up from the bed
where they had lain limp and useless.  They grasped Mariusı arm in a
punishing grip and the gaping mouth fastened over the stream of blood
welling up from his wrist.  Then the pulling began.

Marius felt a wrenching at his heart.  The assault upon his veins was
violent.  He watched his young one feed with a frenzied hunger for a long
time.  When the sucking calmed into a slow steady pull, he separated his
beloved from his arm.

Amadeo wailed and grabbed for the arm again, his mouth wide, his eyes wild. 
Marius just held him struggling for a moment and then said his name
sharply.

³Amadeo!²

The eyes focussed on Mariusı face.  Marius held up his hand in front of his
belovedıs face.  But this time Amadeo did not move.  Slowly Marius moved
that hand to his neck.  Amadeoıs eyes followed that hand like a snake
following a charmerıs flute.  Marius opened a tear in his throat with one
fingernail.  Amadeo stared.  Marius released him from his iron hold and his
beloved fastened onto that wound before Marius could say a word.

Marius just settled back onto the bed and pulled his beloved closer.  He
would let him feed as much as he desired, he thought, but Amadeo was soon
sated and slumping groggily against him.  Marius cradled his new fledgling
in the ensuing silence.

.............................................................................


Amadeo awoke to the sensation of being enveloped in warmth. He opened his
eyes to find his Master lowering him into a steaming bath of the most
delicious hot water. It had already closed over his legs and hips. As he
looked into the intent face of his beloved Master, he was lowered further
until the water came up to his ribs. He felt the bottom of the tub
underneath him and was urged by gentle hands to rest against the curved
backrest. The Master continued to hold his arms in a steady grip as he
knelt beside the tub. They gazed into each other's eyes. Amadeo's held a
question.

"A bath?" he asked.

"Yes," Marius started to explain. "Your body is going through the dying
process . . ."

"Dying?" his fledgling interrupted, frowning.

"Yes," Marius continued, keeping his tone even and gentle. "Your new
preternatural body doesn't need all the fluids that your mortal one did. So
it has purged them while you were sleeping. I did not want you to wake in
that state. It might have been very frightening. So I brought you in here
to clean you up. You'll be much more comfortable in the coffin this morning
after a nice warm bath."

"It is very nice," Amadeo agreed. He didn't want to think about coffins
just yet.

"Yes, vampires are drawn to warmth. Fire . . . light . . . heat . . . blood
. . ."

"The blood . . ." A fire seemed to light behind Amadeo's glowing brown eyes.

Marius smiled. "Do you thirst again?" he asked, amused.

Amadeo was held by the power of some inner vision for a moment. Then, he
seemed to realize that his Master had spoken and looked into his brilliant
blue eyes and smiled.

"I don't feel the hunger again yet. Not like I did before. But . . ." he
paused, smiling to himself and glancing away, " . . . the taste of the
blood . . ." He didn't seem to be able to find the words to describe it.

"Just the taste?" Marius teased.

Amadeo turned back and grinned at his Master. "You know. You know . . ." he
blushed and couldn't continue.

"Yes, beloved," Marius gently smoothed back the tangled hair from his young
one's face. The hair was so alive in the firelight it seemed to glow. The
pale preternatural beauty of his young one was highlighted by the unnatural
crimson stain high on his cheekbones. Who would have thought that creatures
such as they could still blush?

"Does it always feel like that?" Amadeo asked. "Every time?"

"There are subtle differences with mortal victims," Marius said. "You'll
learn all about them tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" Amadeo's eyes questioned.

"Yes," Marius agreed. "You will take your first mortal victim tomorrow
night when you rise. I will help you. I will instruct you in everything you
need to know. I will be at your side through every new thing you will
experience in the coming nights."

Amadeo was struck suddenly by the way the light in the dressing room seemed
to bring forth shimmering rainbows of colour in his Master's hair. He had
never noticed this before. He reached out to touch the strands hanging just
above his Master's collar where they had escaped from the restraining
ribbon.

"Your hair . . ." he whispered.

Marius let go of his young one finally, and reached behind his head to pull
the ribbon from his hair. It swung down to brush the curve of his cheeks
and Amadeo gasped. Marius smiled. His beloved was just becoming conscious
now of his new preternatural eyesight.

Marius reached for his fledgling's hands and held them between them.
"Look," he instructed.

Amadeo glanced into Marius' eyes when he spoke and was distracted for a
moment by their iridescence. Then he became aware of his hands being held
up for inspection and looked down at them.

The nails were like glass, gleaming in the dim light. To Amadeo's new
preternatural perceptions, they looked almost predatory. He realized it was
because of the infinitesimal natural curve to them. He had never really
noticed it before. It was strange he should notice this now, and that it
should suggest to him the appearance of . . . claws. The idea startled him,
but no more so than the colour of his flesh. White. His hands were smooth,
eerie and beautiful, like sculpture.

He stared at them as Marius washed him silently. He stared at the Master as
the Master dried him quickly. When the Master pulled him across the room
and stood him in front of the tall oval mirror, he couldn't tear his gaze
away from the ghostly image that stood before him.

His hair contained flames that had never been there before. He looked into
those eyes in the mirror and could have sworn that there was a source of
light emanating from them. And the white skin, all the white smooth
covering that was now his body; it felt so much different from his mortal
skin it was disorienting.

A taller, broader image joined the slim white one in the mirror. Their eyes
met.

"It's done, my love," said Marius.

Was there a hint of apprehension in his loved one's eyes. His small bright
face suddenly became impossibly still as the eyes closed almost
involuntarily. The lashes drifted down upon the white cheeks and Marius
suddenly felt that he was staring at an impossibly detailed statue. It was
unreal, this beauty; incredible in its perfection. Had he known, in some
hidden recess of his mind, exactly how beautiful this young creature would
be after the magic transformation of the blood?

Slowly the image of the figure in the mirror changed. Amadeo turned towards
Marius and as Marius' hands came up to receive him, the young immortal
creature stepped into his arms and pressed himself close.

"My Master," he whispered.

Marius drew him over to a tall wardrobe against the wall. He motioned for
Amadeo to open its doors. When he did he found inside a row of newly
tailored tunics, coats and robes, cloaks and capes. In the bottom were rows
of shoes and boots and slippers. On a shelf above there were hats. Amadeo
had never worn a hat in his life! He smiled.

There were small drawers down one side and he began to slide them open. He
found ribbons for tying back his hair, linen shirts, fine leather gloves,
soft leggings, fine lace handkerchiefs and neck-linen. Everything that a
gentleman might need was included. He picked out one of the soft leather
gloves and tried it on. It fit like a second skin; very supple and soft.

"You'll want to wear them, and lace at your neck, whenever you are going to
be around mortals for any length of time. You'll want to keep as much of
your white skin covered as you can. No need to unnecessarily alarm the
general population with our presence." Marius tried to explain the new need
for caution.

"What about here at the palazzo?" Amadeo asked, trying on the glove's mate.

"You can be a little more relaxed here. They're all used to me. But they
may remark upon your paleness at first. It is a definite difference in your
appearance that they will notice. Always have a response ready. Be
off-hand, casual, and they will be in return," Marius added. "The
apprentices have not had much to do with you since Marco left. You will be
spending more time exclusively in my company, so it should not be noticed
if you avoid them altogether except in the studio."

Amadeo just nodded. He played with the gloves, tugging at them, flexing his
fingers, getting the feel for them.

"If you have any questions or concerns just ask. I will do my best to
help," Marius took his young one's gloved hands in his. "Get dressed now.
It's almost morning. I want to get you settled down below before you become
completely insensible."

Amadeo raised questioning eyes to his Master. "Insensible?"

"The sun, Amadeo, the sun. When the sun rises our bodies sleep. We have no
control over it. If you are caught out in the open at sunrise you will burn
like a torch. You must seek shelter before the light of the sun can touch
your skin, even if it means burying yourself in the ground without benefit
of coffin."

The young fledgling's eyes had grown large and fearful.

"Don't worry," Marius told him. "I intend to take good care of you. But if
we should get separated, make sure you are always back at the palazzo
before sunrise. Yes?"

"Yes, Master," Amadeo assured him fervently.

"You can survive in one of the vaults in the cellar if you cannot reach
your coffin in time. It is just not as secure against possible intruders.
But this shouldn't happen even by accident, because I will always rise
before you and retire after you. It is always that way with those who have
been vampires for more than a millenia."

"I did not realize you were so old," Amadeo whispered.

"I'm not, beloved. I'm not," Marius chuckled. "I don't feel a day over
forty years."

Amadeo joined in his laughter. "You don't look it either, Master!" he
giggled. They continued to laugh together as Marius pulled out clothes for
his young one to put on. When he was suitably attired Marius drew him out
of the room and through the dissipating shadows of the palazzo to the
cellar stairs.

Not long now, he thought as he put his arm around Amadeo and led him into
the cellars and towards his locked vault.

Amadeo watched Marius unlock the vault and then stood and listened while
Marius just looked at the door for a moment. Then they both heard the sound
of something sliding and falling inside the vault. Marius stepped close to
the door and with his shoulder pushed open the heavy door.

Amadeo was trying to deal with his surprise that they had traversed the
cellars without the aid of any light. And he could see just as well as if
they had. This new eyesight was amazing, he thought.

Now Marius was lighting a candle in the vault. But Amadeo did not know what
he used to light it. He immediately forgot about it because there on a
raised dais in the centre of the quite large vault were two coffins, laid
side by side.

The reality of it was a shock. Amadeo watched in growing horror as his
Master walked over to one and opened the lid to expose the richly
upholstered interior. This was not just any coffin. This one was special .
. . especially for him.

All of Amadeo's darkest nightmares suddenly sprang to life inside him.
Terror flowed from his mind into his body and he began to tremble with a
violence he had almost forgotten from when he was a small boy. A moan broke
from his lips and Marius looked up from where he had raised the lid of the
second coffin.

"Amadeo?" he questioned, taking in the sight of the trembling boy. He had
expected some trepidation, yes. But this?

"No!" Amadeo whispered fiercely.

"Amadeo . . ." Marius said calmly turning to cross to him slowly,
hesitantly. He must handle this carefully.

"No!" Amadeo looked up from the coffin that had held him spellbound, and
gazed at his Master with wide panicked eyes and almost shouted the word at
him.

"No! No! No!" he continued, each word getting louder and more shrill. In
fact, the sound of his preternatural voice growing outside mortal bounds in
pitch and volume seemed to add to Amadeo's panic.

"No!!!" he finally screamed and turned to run with preternatural speed from
the vault.

Marius was at the door of the vault before him, moving without being seen,
even by preternatural eyes. He wrapped one strong arm around Amadeo and
pulled the sobbing and hysterical boy against him. Amadeo struggled against
that embrace for a moment, testing his new preternatural strength, but the
arm around him only got tighter.

"No. No," he continued to sob into Marius' chest as he finally collapsed
against it. "I can't do it. I can't . . ."

"Yes, you can, beloved," Marius said above the muffled sounds. "You will be
with me, my darling one. I will be at your side now as you close your eyes
and tomorrow when you open them again. I will be here."

Marius lifted Amadeo into his arms and started walking towards the nearest
coffin. When he stopped the young boy lifted his head and seeing what his
Master was about to do, let out a scream that pierced the night.

"Nooooo. . . ." he struggled frantically in his Master's arms, clawing in
terror at anything he could get his hands on. Marius withstood the assault
for a moment and then wrapped his arms around the flailing arms, pinioning
them and the boy to his chest with one arm, muffling the screaming mouth
against him with the other.

Amadeo continued to struggle for several minutes more and then fell silent
with exhaustion. Before he could gather his strength for another assault,
Marius freed the boy's head and tilted it up to look at him.

His fledgling gasped for breath at being released and his wide frightened
eyes stared through blood tears at his Master's impassive face. While he
had his attention, Marius lifted one hand to his lips and bit his thumb.
Blood welled up against his lips and Amadeo's eyes were riveted there.

Marius lifted the bleeding thumb from his mouth and pressed it to his
fledgling's. Amadeo took it into his mouth eagerly and fed on the blood
that welled from it. He struggled to get his arms free, but Marius
continued to hold him firmly.

The wound in Marius' thumb took only moments to close, but it had given him
the opportunity he needed. He removed his thumb from his fledgling's mouth,
but Amadeo whimpered and looked at him piteously. His gaze fell on the
blood on his Master's lips and he struggled to reach them with his mouth,
his pink tongue already sticking out between his lips.

Marius bent and let him lick the blood away and then lifted his head, and
looking into the glazed brown eyes, lifted one hand to his throat. Amadeo's
eyes followed the action avidly. Marius ran his thumbnail across the vein
and felt the welling up of the blood. Amadeo's eyes were focussed on it
intently, every muscle in his body straining towards that growing crimson
stain. Marius released his hold on the boy. Amadeo flung his arms around
his Master and his mouth covered the wound with ravenous hunger.

Amadeo suckled like a newborn babe at the fount he found at the Master's
throat. Its heat enveloped him and spread through his veins and he felt his
body welcoming it, breathing it in like air into starved lungs. His fears
faded into nothingness like they had never existed as he drank in time with
the pulsing beat of the Master's blood against his lips, against the back
of his throat. He reached for the beating of his Master's heart, letting it
guide and sustain him.

Marius let him feed. He felt the body in his arms relax, the heartbeat
return to normal. He was glad his strategy had worked. Now, where is the
sun, he asked himself.

Amadeo had not been feeding long when he began to feel an intense languor
taking over his limbs. Suddenly his arms would no longer obey him. They
fell from around the Master's neck. His mind was clouding and his body felt
heavier than he could ever remember it. He forgot what he was doing and
stopped sucking at the vein on the strong white throat beneath his lips. As
soon as he did it began to close, but he didn't notice because his eyes had
closed of their own accord. The last thing he remembered was something
brushing his lips. He thought it might have been the Master's kiss. And
then he didn't think any more.

Marius lifted the unconscious boy into his arms and carried him over to a
coffin. He placed him into the soft interior very gently and then lowered
the lid. He secured the vault for their daytime sleep and then sought his
rest in the companion coffin. As he lay in the darkness waiting for the
sleep to take him, Marius sighed and thought to himself: This is not going
to be easy.

And yet it was. Amadeo woke the next night ravenous with hunger. Hunting
was to be their first priority. Night fell quickly now that winter was
almost upon them. So they could hunt early in relative safety.

Amadeo opened his eyes and looked into the blue blaze of his Master's. They
smiled at each other. Slowly the young fledgling became aware of where he
was. He sat up quickly and Marius reached out and pulled him out of the
coffin and stood him on his feet beside him.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.

From the haven of his Master's arms, Amadeo stared back at the place where
he had rested throughout the long day, insensible, unknowing.

"I told you that I would be here when you close your eyes, and here when
you opened them again. There is nothing to fear. The vault is necessary to
protect us from those who might harm us. The same goes for the coffin. We
have these things to keep us safe, my love. They give us much needed
security. It would be very unusual for a mortal to have enough courage to
open a consecrated grave, which they all would believe this to be, if they
ever knew of its existence. But, we must take all precautions, just in
case. I refuse to take risks with your safety. Do you understand a little
better?"

The young one looked into his Master's serious face as he turned him
between his hands to ask the question. It all made perfect sense. He had
let his fear come between himself and his Master. He would try with
everything in him not to let that happen again.

"Yes, Master. I understand. I'm sorry that I forgot this morning. I will
try . . ." he broke off and looked back at the open coffin. "I will try to
not let it frighten me so much," he made the promise with a quavering
voice.

"Thank you, my darling one. I know you will."

They left the vault and when Marius turned to lock the door Amadeo heard
the heavy wooden bolt slide into place on the other side. Then they made
their way to the end of the room in the darkness and stopped before another
heavily barred door that Amadeo had never noticed before.

The Master opened it and revealed a set of stairs going down to the canal
and a plain black gondola hidden in the shadows beneath the building. They
did not get into the gondola, but instead made their way along a rutted
walkway beside the building that led to an alley. The buildings were very
close together here and they ducked into the shadows between them unseen,
and hurried down it with preternatural speed.


................................................................................

The Master led him down familiar alleyways, and along some not so familiar,
on their way into the heart of the city.  Amadeo was slightly amazed at the
speed with which they traversed their route and the fact that he had no
trouble keeping up with his Masterıs pace.  

They came to an abrupt halt behind a disreputable tavern with crumbling
masonry.  Amadeo could hear the creaking of the floors inside the building
as people crossed them.  The whole place looked as if it was about to
crumble and fall into the canal.

Seated in the alley just outside the rear door of the establishment was a
heavily built man who stank of human waste and sweat and ale.   He was
grumbling to himself in profane language and hadnıt yet noticed them stop
at the entrance to the alley.

Marius turned to his fledgling.  ³Look into his mind, Amadeo.  Use your new
preternatural powers to read his thoughts and tell me what you see there.²

The young boy looked at his Master, startled and surprised for a moment.

³Go ahead,² encouraged Marius.

Amadeo looked towards the disgusting creature and then closed his eyes as
thoughts began to enter his mind that were not his own.  He saw a serving
maid in the tavern screaming in laughter as the man grabbed her and began
to paw her body.  He saw a woman dressed all in black bent weeping over the
body of a child in a coffin.  He saw the brute swinging his fists in an
alley much like this one and hitting the same woman across the face sending
her flying against a wall.  He saw the monster step up and grab a small
cowering child in his huge paws, the child from the coffin, and begin to
shake the small body.  He shook it and shook it and when the sounds coming
from the small body stopped, he dropped it on the filthy ground and drew
back his foot and kicked it down the alley and past the screaming woman.

Amadeo turned from the visions that had played themselves out in his mind. 
He tried to shut them out and buried his face against his Master, who
folded him against his chest.

³An evildoer, Amadeo, a murderer of the worst kind . . . a child killer.²

Amadeo shivered.

³When we feed, Amadeo, we feed only on the evildoer.   We pierce their
minds and find the evil.  We take their evil into ourselves with their
blood, and transform it into good.  It feeds us and makes us strong and
their evil comes to an end.²

The young fledgling vampire looked up into his Masterıs eyes.  They seemed
to glow with inner fire even in this dismal place.

³And truly, my young one,² Marius continued in a voice that only
preternatural ears could have heard.  ³Not even the most evil of them is
any match for our strength and cunning.²  A smile appeared on his Masterıs
lips and Amadeo caught a glimpse of the lethal fangs within.

³Watch everything I do, Amadeo,² Marius instructed.  ³This one will not be
much of a challenge, but he will do for your first.²

He turned and moved silently towards the intended victim.  One moment
Marius was bent solicitously over the slumped figure in the light of the
tavern window, the next they were both gone.  Marius was holding the
struggling man in a firm hold in the shadows where he had stood only
seconds before.  He had one hand over the manıs mouth so no sound could
escape.  He tilted the manıs head and looked at his fledgling.

³Here, Amadeo.  Try out those new fangs of yours on this vein right here.²

Amadeo had been bothered by something about the man ever since they had
turned into the alley.  He had not been able to recognize what it was that
was bothering him.  He thought it was just a natural response to the
revulsion of feeling he had experienced at what he had read in the depraved
manıs mind.   That is . . . until the Master brought him closer.  

It was the smell of blood.  Hot mortal blood, coursing rapidly through
bulging veins.  If he wanted to, he could hear the blood pumping from the
heart, sloshing in its rush to fill the arteries and continue its
circulatory journey.  It raised every hair on his body and started his
heart pounding in his chest.  

The scent was almost overpowering this close up. His eyes became riveted
upon the throbbing vein in the bull-like neck.  Without realizing what he
was doing, he was reaching for those shoulders held firmly by his Master. 
He opened his mouth wide and let instinct guide him as he sank his fangs
viciously into that waiting fount.

The blood!   At first he thought he couldnıt get enough of it.  Then it
seemed to be overpowering him, burning him from within, making a living
torch of him.

What was it doing to him?  He could feel a shifting of sensations in his
body, in his veins.  His perceptions of sight and sound and smell had
sharpened so much as to be uncomfortable.  

Amadeo sat slumped in the shadows in the empty alley.  When his senses
returned to him, Marius and the body of the victim were gone and he was
alone.  A sound from behind startled him and turning, he found his Master
standing there.  He stared at his Master.

³I feel different,² he said to Marius.

³Come,² Marius urged him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. 
³Let us go back to the palazzo and talk about it.²

That night Marius tried to explain the unexplainable to his bewildered
fledgling.  How the blood was everything to them now.  It fed not only the
hunger of their preternatural bodies, but all their senses, their minds,
their very souls.

He told his fledgling that the power of the sun would no longer spark the
forces of mortal life within him to grow and change with the passing years. 
His appearance would be forever unchanging. His animating force would come
from within, from the engine that was his new preternatural body, from the
magic alchemy of the blood that had made him a vampire.

In this amazing and endless preternatural life, Marius told him, he would
have all the time in the world to ask all the questions ever posed by man
about the mysteries of existence.  Time enough not only to learn which
questions to ask, but also time enough to find out some of the answers. 
Perhaps even enough time to gain the wisdom to understand what the answers
to those questions meant to creatures such as they were.

Marius feared that his darling boy did not comprehend the full extent of
these words.  Perhaps it would be several lifetimes before he did.  For
now, Amadeo was content to let his new life of darkness take him where it
would.  He was reeling in the grip of his newfound powers.  They would
probably overwhelm him nightly to the exclusion of all else.  For now, the
power of the blood and the excitement of the kill was everything.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................
 

It took a while, but Amadeo soon became used to coffins.

The first night after his making, Marius and his fledgling scoured the
cellar looking for something that could be used as a seat.  They found a
stone bench in one of the empty vaults and carried it into their resting
place and sat it against the wall.  Every dawn Marius sat there and held
his fledgling in his arms until his eyes closed in sleep and then he laid
him in his coffin.  And every sunset when Amadeo opened his eyes the first
thing he saw was the loving gaze of his Master.

Then, one morning, just before Amadeo closed his eyes, but was feeling
drowsy and weak, Marius carried him over to his coffin and laid him in it. 
He kept hold of Amadeoıs hands until his fledgling was asleep.  In the
evening, there he was smiling down at Amadeo.

The next morning, of his own accord, just before the weakness overtook him
completely, Amadeo kissed his Master sweetly and then walked over to the
coffin and climbed in.  Marius was so pleased, he came and stood beside the
coffin and holding one of Amadeoıs hands, he smoothed the beautiful auburn
hair away from his young oneıs forehead with the other until he was asleep.

That evening Amadeo woke in darkness.  His heart leapt in his chest and he
put his hand out blindly and felt the lid of the coffin.  He pushed against
it and it flew open revealing a smiling Marius standing over it, waiting as
always.

They repeated this routine for several nights until Marius felt Amadeo was
completely comfortable with it.  Then the next morning when Amadeo climbed
into his coffin, Marius suggested he close it himself.

His beloved looked startled for a moment, then swallowed his fear.  He
said, Good day, Master, and reaching up grasped the lid firmly and drew it
down towards himself.  Endless minutes went by as Amadeo lay rigid in the
coffin hoping the weakness and sleep would fall upon him soon.  He waited
and waited and finally he could stand it no longer and with one swift push
of his hand flung the lid of the coffin upwards and open.

Marius was still standing there, looking down at him with a gentle smile so
full of love Amadeo suddenly felt ashamed.  He must try harder to please
his Master.  He reached for the lid again but the Masterıs hand stopped
him.

Marius leaned down into the coffin and kissed his sweet fledgling tenderly. 
For long moments they shared tenderness and affection with their lips and
then as Marius drew back he whispered into the hair at his loverıs temple.

³I love you, my darling.  Sleep well.²  Marius pressed his lips against the
auburn hair and then drew back again.  He lifted both slim white hands and
brushed his lips across the backs of them both before dropping them and
standing back.  He reached up and grasping the lid lowered it slowly until
it clicked shut.  He stood still, listening to the beating of his
fledglingıs heart until it slowed and slept.

Inside the dark coffin Amadeo closed his eyes.  He lifted the knuckles that
had just felt his Masterıs lips and gently rubbed them against his cool
cheeks.  Then he folded them across his chest and returned in his mind to
that last loving kiss upon his lips.  It brought a smile to his face as he
finally fell asleep.

That evening when Amadeo awoke, he was not surprised to find himself in
darkness.  He pushed open the lid of the coffin and stared up . . . but not
into the eyes of his beloved Master.  He sat up in the coffin.  Where was
the Master?  Was he still asleep?  He swiftly climbed out and coming around
the end of it, stopped.

There was the Master sitting on the stone bench in the corner, smiling,
with blood tears in his eyes.

³Iım so proud of you, my sweet Amadeo,² he whispered into the silence and
opened his arms wide in welcome.

Amadeo rushed into them and was held close.  He felt cherished and so happy
he thought he could dance with joy.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................
.

The vampire moved through the city, through alleyways, across bridges,
disappearing from one side of the canal and reappearing on the other . . .
without being seen by a single living soul.  He was trying to lead his
Master on a merry chase, but he knew that no matter how twisted his route,
whether he doubled back once or twice, or how many buildings he scaled and
scrambled down, his Master was always close by, never far from his side.

He paused now, still as a statue, caught in the moonlight in an empty
palazzo courtyard, daring his pursuer to show himself.

³Master?² he whispered.

³Amadeo,² came the answering whisper.  He whirled and saw a shadow move
against the building.  Then he was off.

³Just checking,² he cried out softly with a laugh as he resumed his flight.

Amadeo sailed with a graceful leap across the canal from the steep steps of
the imposing palazzo.  He landed without a sound on the other side and
raced over a bridge and down a dark alley.  

The feeling of a presence leapt out at him from the end of the alley. 
Someone was just entering from the other side.  A mortal.  He could smell
the blood from here.  He reached out with his mind and probed their
consciousness as he moved back into the shadows.  Ah, vicious, armed and
dangerous; perfect, he thought.

Amadeo was thriving in this nighttime world of the hunt.  He had been an
apt pupil, Marius found.  The dark gift had given him all the confidence
Marius had tried vainly to instill in him while he was mortal.  He had
become strong and sure of himself and the kill.   He always followed
Mariusı rules and because of the feeling of safety those rules gave him, he
had blossomed for his beloved Master.

Marius watched from the roof of the building opposite as Amadeo waited
silent in the shadows until his prey was right beside him.  Then, he just
reached out with one swift movement and grasped the shoulders of the man
who was at least a head taller than he.  

Amadeo paralyzed his victim with the bite and had drained him in minutes. 
He staggered slightly when the death hit him, but did not fall.  He held
the victim in a firm embrace until the swoon was over and then dropped him
at his feet.  He pulled a knife out of the villainıs boot and thrust it
into his chest.  Still bending over the corpse, he bit his thumb and rubbed
it over the two tiny marks in the skin of the manıs neck.

³Well, do I pass *this* test, Master?² he whispered into the night.  He
didnıt wait for an answer.  He went down the alley in the direction the man
had come from and had soon resumed his flight.  Marius was right behind
him.

Amadeo streaked across the city and finally scaled the palazzo walls to
land on the balcony outside Mariusı third floor rooms.  Marius was standing
on the balcony waiting, the doors to the sitting room open to the cold
winter night.

³Come in out of the cold, beloved.  I have a nice fire waiting for us.²  He
wrapped one arm around his fledgling and drew him into the cozy room.  The
balcony doors swung shut behind them and the lock clicked into place.

Mariusı young one sank into the soft cushions of a large comfortable chair
to one side of the hearth.  His Master took the one opposite.

³You are wondering why I asked you to try to elude me tonight, arenıt you? 
You are curious as to why I wanted you to hunt alone, as well.²

Amadeo said nothing.  He knew his Master would give him an explanation.  He
wanted his fledgling to learn something from the experience.  In a moment
he would tell him what that lesson was.

³You move well, Amadeo,² he began, ³silent and swift.  You were very
careful tonight and I can only hope you will be just as cautious while Iım
away.²

³You have to leave again?² Amadeoıs expression was aggrieved.

³Yes.  It is time to make another trip north,² Marius agreed.  ³I wanted to
see if you were ready to handle the hunt on your own.  I wanted to be sure
you were comfortable with our lair in the cellar.  You have exceeded my
expectations in both areas.  Iım very pleased with you, my love.  You are a
credit to me.  I could not ask for a more accomplished or obedient
fledgling.²

³Then why canıt I come with you?²  Amadeoıs voice was placid, his face
impassive, but he could not control the light of  pleading that shone in
his eyes.

³Iım not ready to share the responsibility of this with you yet,² Marius
tried to explain carefully.  ³Itıs too dangerous.  Knowledge of the resting
place of Those Who Must Be Kept has made me a target for violence too many
times.  The best way to protect you from that threat is to keep you
ignorant of them until such time as you are strong enough to resist anyone
who might try to take the knowledge of them from you by force.²

³Those Who Must Be Kept?² Amadeo repeated the words under his breath, but
the Master heard him.

³Yes,² he answered.  ³And that is all it is safe for you to know.  I must
go to them now.  But I will return as soon as I can.  You know this
already.²

³Yes, Master,² Amadeo agreed in a subdued voice.  It was going to be very
quiet waiting all alone for the sunrise in that cold dark crypt.  And very
lonely.

³Come here,² Marius gestured to his young one to join him in the big soft
chair.  He opened his arms invitingly.

Amadeo looked at his Master enquiringly for a moment, his head tipped to
one side, smiling slightly.  He got up gracefully and went into his
Masterıs arms.  Marius pulled him onto his lap like he had endless times
over the years.  Amadeo lay his head on his Masterıs broad chest and
sighed.  This was safety.

³I will be leaving as soon as I wake this evening,² Marius told him.  ³You
will be waking in the crypt alone for the first time since your making.  I
know you will be fine while Iım away, but maybe there is something I can
give you right now that will make the parting a little easier to bear.²

Amadeo pulled back slightly in his Masterıs arms and looked up into those
gentle blue eyes.  He didnıt know what the Master meant.  All he wanted was
to stay here in these strong arms until the sun rose to drive them to their
coffins.

Marius smiled at his beloved fledgling.  He was so sweet still, such a
child and yet without the relentless egotism of childhood.  He never asked
for anything but love, and he made it so easy to give.

Marius reached one hand up and loosened the lace at his collar, drawing it
away from his throat.  Amadeoıs eyes widened.  His lips fell open in
surprise and unconsciously the pink tongue touched the tip of one sharp
fang.  Marius smiled.

³Drink,² the Master offered.

Amadeo tore his eyes away from the dark vein that pulsed with a life of its
own under the white skin.  He looked into the eyes of his Master and saw
the love there for him.  Perhaps the Master needed this as much as he
himself wanted it, he thought.

The young fledgling pressed himself into his Masterıs arms, and Marius
pulled him close.  Amadeo wrapped his arms securely around his Masterıs
strong neck and laid his lips in a reverent kiss against the white throat. 
Then he reached for the waiting vein with his mouth and drank from the
heart that had made him what he was.

.............................................................................


Every evening when Amadeo rose from his coffin, the thirst ruled him.   But
after the thirst had been slaked in some dark city alley, the loneliness
returned.  He felt like an arm that had been amputated from the body that
sustained it.  Always the Master was there, and now he was not.  The world
was a cold, damp and empty place.  He wandered like a ghost along the
alleys and canals until he made his way home again.  There was no hurry. 
Only an empty vault and a cold coffin awaited him there.  Amadeo found
himself waiting again.  Oh, the endless tortuous waiting again, he thought.

The first night after the Master had left, Amadeo had been angry.  Left
behind again, he thought to himself.  Left behind to wait in silence and
darkness.  He had stalked his prey halfway across the city, letting himself
be seen occasionally, scaring the poor mortal half out of his wits.  And
when the bloodthirsty villain had turned on him finally with a knife held
ready to do its worst, Amadeo had taken him savagely, ripping and clawing
with vicious strength, even though the man had been helpless after the
first deadly bite.  Afterwards, as Amadeo surveyed the corpse, he felt
disgust with himself. Any anger that had been left in him slowly drained
away, never to return.  It left an emptiness in its wake that only added to
his grief.

Nestled high in the mountains, the resting place of Those Who Must Be Kept
was shrouded in unnatural quiet as well.  Marius had hurried north with all
speed to his duties there.  He had meant to stay a week, but three days
into his stay he found he had already dealt with all the responsibilities
of ensuring their security and comfort for another six months.  His
thoughts had then turned inevitably to the one waiting anxiously for his
return to Venice.

There was no reason why he should not return.  He made the necessary
arrangements and then entered the shrine one last time before leaving.  He
felt he owed them that much.

³I have a new fledgling who waits alone for me in the palazzo in Venice. 
Perhaps you already know this.²  Marius stared at the two figures.  They
stared back without the slightest sign of animation or sentience.  

³I am uneasy at leaving him alone at this time, so Iım going back early. 
Everything here is as it should be.  You will not be disturbed.²  There was
no response.

³I will return,² Marius said.  He turned and closed up the tabernacle,
securing their retreat.  He had a word with the caretakers of the building
and then started out on his journey home.

Marius arrived back in Venice just before sunrise on the third day.  He had
pushed the limits of his own safety and comfort to reach the city as fast
as possible, stopping only when he could no longer fight the influence of
the sun rising in the sky, and resuming the journey as soon as he woke with
the next sunset.  He had not even stopped to feed along the way.  The
thirst burned in him now, but there was no time to do anything about it
except smother the embers for another day.  Tonight he would feast with his
Amadeo at his side.  He could wait.

He entered the vault beneath the palazzo and secured the door behind him. 
He walked to the coffin of his beloved fledgling and lifted the lid. 
Amadeo lay sleeping under the influence of the rising sun.  Marius
inspected him from shining hair to leather-clad toes.  Just as beautiful as
ever, he thought.

Marius sighed in relief and contentment.  He bent low and pressed a gentle
kiss to the smooth white brow.

³Until tonight, my love,² he whispered.

.............................................................................
....................................................................

Amadeo woke in silence and darkness as always.  He lay for a moment
thinking of his Master.  How he missed those blue eyes greeting him every
evening when he opened his coffin.  He always lay and thought about that
now that the Master was gone.  He tried to delay the opening of the coffin
until he could stand the dark closeness no longer.  Then he would fly from
its confines and out of the vault as if all the demons of hell were on his
trail, barely stopping to lock the door.  His one goal at that point was to
find the kill and drown this endless emptiness and grief in the hot
flooding pleasure of the blood.

Frantic now that his imaginings had woken the thirst in him, he flung open
his coffin lid with a quick thrust of his hand and . . . froze.

The Master?  The Master!  Amadeo lay trembling in his coffin.  He closed
his eyes and rubbed them frantically with shaking hands, sure that his
dreaming had induced some kind of hallucination.  He was almost afraid to
open his eyes again.

Slowly he pulled his hands away and opened his eyes and took another long
look at the face bending over him.  Blue eyes blazed, a gentle smile
creased a beautiful masculine face, white hair shimmered slightly in the
darkness and a voice heard only in his restless dreams spoke to him.

³Good evening, my beautiful one.  I have returned.  Youıre not dreaming.²

Amadeo slowly sat up.  His Master was back.  He couldnıt take it in.  He
had wanted this so badly.  And now . . . here he was, sooner than he could
have hoped, sooner than he had thought possible.  It was a miracle.

Marius held out his arms.  Amadeo made a quick movement and he was
enveloped in his Masterıs strong embrace.  Home.  The word seemed to
reverberate like the striking of a silent bell in the darkness.  No one
said the word aloud, but they were both thinking it, hearing it, seeing it,
feeling it, knowing it, welcoming it, rejoicing in it.

Marius held his young one away from him and looked into his eyes.  Yes, the
thirst was barely contained.  Mariusı own eyes glittered with it, even in
the darkness of the crypt.  He turned and lifted a heavy cloak from the
stone seat and pulled it around Amadeoıs slender shoulders.  

³Itıs very cold out tonight,² he said as he fastened it beneath the boyıs
chin.  ³Youıll need this for now, but weıll soon have you warmed up,² he
smiled.  He took Amadeoıs hand and headed out the door, stopping only to
secure the vault.  They did the same with the cellar door and then hurried
off into the night.

Marius was leading Amadeo somewhere with a purpose.  Amadeo noticed this
because their route from the start had been specific rather than random. 
They were headed for a very particular area of the city; the wharf.  Amadeo
had never hunted there before.  It was true that the most violent of the
cityıs criminal element could be found there.  But it was also the busiest
part of the city.  The wharf area never slept.  Boats came in and left at
all hours of the day and night.  People could be found wandering there in
numbers that made it too uncomfortable for a vampire who was used to
hunting in quiet byways and empty alleys.

³Donıt worry,² Marius could feel the apprehension growing in his fledgling
as their destination became clear.  ³I have no intention of hunting in the
open.  Not with you by my side, at any rate.²

³Have you ever done it?² Amadeo asked as they paused at the junction of an
alley and a canal.  

³Done what?² Marius asked under his breath.  He pulled Amadeo under his arm
and drew him silently across a bridge and into the shadows again.

³Hunted in a crowded place,² Amadeo spoke softly.  ³Pulled a victim out of
a crowded street and fed on him without raising any alarm.²

³Yes,² Mariusı voice was amused.  ³And Iıll show you how itıs done, if you
like.  But not tonight.  Tonight I want to share the kill with you, and for
that I want privacy.  Ah, yes, just the thing.²

Marius stopped beside a tall tenement of crumbling stone.  Amadeo knew they
were very near the waterfront.  He could hear loud voices echoing off the
water and smell the saltiness of the sea in the wind.

Amadeo was trembling in excitement.  This building was full of people.  He
could hear their hearts beating like a thundering of horses hooves, one
layered on top of another.  He reached out tentatively as he and his Master
slipped into the dark inner courtyard, and felt the minds of countless
people, the cacophony of their voices making a din in his head.  He shut
them out.

Marius led his fledgling up a staircase with preternatural speed.  They
paused outside a door.

³Be swift,² he instructed.  ³And donıt let him make a sound.²

Amadeo sensed two men in the room.  They were arguing over money.  One of
them was planning on killing the other and taking it all.  Blood money;
they had killed for it.  One had held their victim, a well-dressed merchant
on his way to buy a villa with his hard-earned wealth.  The other had
stabbed him.  He had pleaded with them and they had laughed.

Marius opened the door and held it for Amadeo, then closed it silently. 
The two men looked up from their table.

³What the devil?!² said one, rising.  They were his last words.  The two
vampires were on them and the only sounds to be heard were the slight moans
coming from Amadeoıs chest as he drank.

The fledgling vampire was still reeling with the death when he felt his
victim being removed from his arms.  He looked up into flashing blue eyes
and let himself be drawn up from the floor and into his Masterıs embrace. 
The wide mouth came down on his and  he let his lips fall open as a hard
tongue slid along his bottom teeth, searching for the blood of his victim.

Amadeo was picked up in strong arms and carried a short distance, then laid
down on something soft.   The hard mouth continued to taste his and then
withdrew slowly, lingeringly.  Amadeo stared up into his Masterıs face. 
The lips drew back, the fangs appeared, and the boy closed his eyes with a
sigh.  Yes, he thought.  It had been so long.

He felt the ecstasy of the bite in his neck and arched involuntarily
against the solid wall of his Masterıs chest.  It didnıt last long enough. 
One mouthful, maybe two and then the fangs were being withdrawn.  Amadeo
grasped the white hair in both hands trying to keep that hungry mouth at
his throat, but all he received was a warm lingering kiss over the wound. 
It was not enough, not nearly enough.

³Ah, take it.  Take it,² Amadeo urged.  ³Master . . .² he groaned.

³Not yet,² Marius whispered into his small ear.  ³Not here.  Later, at
home, where itıs quiet and safe and warm and we have all night.²  Marius
pulled back and smiled into the shining brown eyes.

³Yes,² agreed his fledgling.

The Master sat up and pulled Amadeo up beside him.

³Now,² Marius said thoughtfully.  ³What to do with these two . . .² his
voice trailed off as he sat listening to something far away.  ³Yes,² he
said suddenly.  ³That will do very well.²

Amadeo just smiled at him slightly.  The Master could hear more and see
farther than he ever would.  He never questioned his Masterıs abilities. 
He considered them almost as far-reaching as Godıs.

Marius rose and went to the window of the room that overlooked the
courtyard.  Oh well, he thought, Iıll just have to be quick.  He smiled. 
He opened the window wide and then turned back into the room and picked up
one of the bodies, slinging it over his broad shoulder.

He looked at Amadeo still sitting on the bed.  ³If anyone comes, just leave
by this window and wait for me on the roof.  I shouldnıt be too long, but
you never know.²   With that he went out the window in one swift movement. 

Amadeo went to the window, but couldnıt see where the Master had gone.  He
reached out with his preternatural senses looking for movement in the
night.  Yes, there he was, moving across the rooftops towards the wharf. 
He turned back into the room.

Moving over to the second corpse, he bit his finger and swiped it across
the puncture marks on the neck.  Just in case, he thought.  Then he sat
back down on the bed and waited.

Marius wasnıt long in returning.  He picked up the second corpse and as he
passed the table he stopped and fingered one of the coins from a pile
there.

³Amadeo,² Marius looked up at his fledgling.  ³Gather up these coins and
put them back in the purse.  I know someone who can put these to good use.² 
He smiled and then was gone out the window in a blurred movement of cloak
and long legs.

Amadeo did as asked and then stood by the window until he saw his Master
coming back towards him across the rooftops.  He stepped back and Marius
swung in easily to stand beside him.

³Weıre going back down the way we came in,² he told Amadeo.  ³Iıll show you
where.  Just follow me.²

They soon found themselves downstairs again but at the back of the
building, standing outside a door that was practically falling off its
hinges.  Marius reached into the mind of the young mother who was sitting
rocking a cradle inside the dismal room.

What was her name? Oh, yes, how lovely, her name was Angelina.

³Angelina,² Marius whispered into the young womanıs mind.

³Whoıs there?² the frightened voice could be heard right through the door.

³You canıt see me, Angelina.  Iım only here in spirit, but Iıve come to
help you.²

³Where are you?² she demanded, moving closer to the cradle, kneeling down
to hover protectively over the sleeping baby.

³Iım right beside you, Angelina, but you canıt see me.  Listen carefully. 
Iıve come to help you and your baby,² Marius continued to whisper into the
motherıs mind.  ³You are to leave this evil place and go into the country
and buy a cottage with a small garden and there raise your little boy until
he is old enough to look after you.  If you live frugally you should be
able to do it.²

³Buy a cottage?² the young woman sounded amazed.  ³Where am I to get the
money for a cottage in the country?²

³Itıs hanging on the knob of the door of this very room,² Marius told her. 
³Do not say anything about it to anyone you know here in this city.  If you
do, you will not live to see your sonıs first birthday.  Say nothing.  Take
the money and go tomorrow into the country.  Change your name and live with
care and no one will ever bother you or your precious son ever again.²

Marius took the purse from Amadeo and hung it on the doorknob as he had
said.  Then turning, he pulled his fledgling out into the street and they
hurried off through the shadows.

.............................................................................
.............................................................................
.

Marius pulled Amadeo up over the edge of the balcony.  He unlocked the tall
doors into the sitting room with a nudge of his mind and they swung open. 
He ushered his young one inside and closed them up tight again, then pulled
the curtains across them.  There was a fire burning in the fireplace and
the room was warm and bright with lamplight.

He smiled at his beautiful boy.  ³I want to bathe and change,² he said. 
³Iım still wearing my travelling clothes.  It feels like Iıve been
travelling for a month instead of three nights.²

³Iıll wait here,² Amadeo offered and turned towards a chair near the fire.

³No,² Marius said.  He held out a hand.  ³Come with me.²  He smiled a
secret smile at the surprised expression on Amadeoıs face.  Yes, his
beloved was in for a few surprises tonight.  Wonderful surprises.

Amadeo caught his breath at the look on his Masterıs face.  He was drawn
towards that look and slipped his hand into the waiting one.  So
comforting, that touch, so gentle, so loving.  Yes, he thought, thatıs the
expression that meant love and desire and longing and pleasure and peace
and happiness.

Marius pulled him towards the bedroom and opened the door.  They stepped
through, hand in hand, just in time to see the Masterıs manservant stop in
mid-stride on his way to the dressing room.  He was carrying a bucket of
steaming water.

Giovanni lowered the bucket to the floor and bowed to Marius as soon as he
saw them.

³I am sorry to disturb you, Master,² the servant apologized.  ³The
bathwater had grown cold when you did not return.  I was just in the
process of refilling it again with freshly heated water.²  He kept his eyes
on the floor.

³Thank you, Giovanni,² Marius said, warmly.  ³You are most efficient.  I
was unavoidably delayed.²

The servantıs face remained impassive.  ³You are too kind, Master.²

³Not at all, Giovanni.  Not at all.  Continue with your duties.²  Marius
was amused at his servantıs circumspection.  Giovanni was embarrassed to
see the two of them standing there in the doorway, suspecting that they
might be going to share that king-sized bathtub that he was filling.  And
he was right.

Marius and Amadeo stood just inside the bedroom doorway and listened to the
splash of water coming from the dressing room.  Giovanni reappeared and
they watched him walk to the doorway that led to the corridor.  He paused
and spoke without looking up.

³Everything is laid out as you requested, Master.  Will you be needing me
again tonight?²

³No, Giovanni,² Marius told him, trying to keep a straight face.  ³You may
have the rest of the night to yourself.²

³As you wish, Master,² he answered.  ³Thank you.  Good night.²

³Good night, Giovanni,² Marius acknowledged.  They watched him leave and
quietly close the door behind him.

Marius pulled Amadeo after him as he entered the dressing room.  He crossed
to one of the large wardrobes and hung up his cloak.

³Master?² Amadeo asked for attention.

³Yes, beloved?² Marius acknowledged.

³Why do you want me with you while you bathe?²

Marius smiled to himself.  ³I thought it would be nice to spend the time
together.²

³Yes,² Amadeo agreed, ³But you have never let me before.²

³Let you what?² asked Marius.

³Let me watch you bathe,² Amadeo said, blushing a little.  Marius found the
flush in his fledglingıs white cheeks enchanting.

³Watch?² Marius questioned, trying to sound nonchalant as he sat on a chair
to remove his boots.  ³Youıre going to join me, arenıt you?²

Amadeo stared open-mouthed.  Marius looked up, smiling.

³Arenıt you?² he asked again.

³Join you in the bath?² Amadeoıs voice was faint with surprise.

³Yes,² Marius nodded.

³Together?² Amadeo searched the amused blue eyes for confirmation.

³Yes,² Marius gave it.

³But . . .² Amadeo seemed at a loss for words.  ³But, we never have before.²

³Well,² Marius began reasonably, ³there are quite a few things that we have
never done together before.² He looked up from his task.  ³Maybe itıs time
we did some of them. What do you think?²  He grinned at his fledgling.

........................................................................

Amadeo just shook his head.  Then he smiled as the reality of the situation
finally began to sink in.  His Master was removing his shirt from those
broad white shoulders.  He couldnıt tear his eyes away from the sight.

³Get undressed, Amadeo,² Marius instructed with a teasing note.  ³Or Iıll
do it for you.²

³Maybe Iıd like you to do it for me,² Amadeo said, responding to the
playfulness of his Masterıs mood.

Marius chuckled and came to him.  He undid the cloak and slung it across
the back of a chair.  Then he slowly and methodically undressed Amadeo just
like he used to do when he first brought him to the palazzo.  When he was
done he picked his fledgling up in his arms and then lowered him into the
waiting bath.  It barely rose to his knees.  Good, Marius thought.  Maybe
it wonıt overflow when I get in.

Marius turned away to remove his breeches and felt those wide brown eyes
fixed on his bare backside.  He turned, grinning, and saw the expression of
awe as he moved to the bath and slipped in behind his fledgling.  He
settled Amadeo between his legs and pulled him back against his chest,
wrapping one arm around him and taking hold of one side of the bath with
the other.

³Take a deep breath, beloved,² Marius instructed.

³Why?² his young one asked.

³Just do it, Amadeo,² Marius chuckled as he started to slide down further
in the warm water, taking the boy with him.  He heard the gasp as Amadeo
realized he was going to be dunked.  Then he slid them the rest of the way
under the surface of the water.

Amadeo lay still on top of him for a moment.  Marius thought his
fledglingıs auburn hair looked alive in the water as it floated around his
head.  The young oneıs heart was beating an excited tattoo under Mariusı
hand.  Then he made a small movement with his hands which Marius took to be
a sign of panic.  He quickly pulled them both up to a sitting position
again and let go of Amadeo.

As soon as they broke the surface, Amadeo turned to kneel in front of
Marius. Water splashed over the side of the tub with his quick movement. 
³I could have held my breath longer,² he stated as if continuing an
argument.

³Then why didnıt you?² asked Marius with a smile.

³Because . . .² Amadeo forgot what he was going to say.  His eyes had been
drawn to the mature male physique displayed in front of him.  Water dripped
from the white hair and ran in rivulets down the broad white chest.  He
reached out to run his hands over his Masterıs muscular shoulders.

³Iım never going to look like this, am I?² he asked as his hands moved to
trace the outline of Mariusı glistening wet pectoral muscles.  His Master
didnıt answer.  Amadeo looked up to see a look of pain on his makerıs face. 


³Oh, donıt be sorry, Master.  I didnıt mean it like that.  I donıt mind
that Iım always going to look like this.  This is the form that you love. 
How could I want to be anything else?²  He slid his small hands up over the
points of Mariusı shoulders again.  ³I was just thinking it must be nice to
have shoulders this wide, thatıs all.  Not that I wanted them myself or
anything like that.²

Marius sighed and lifted one hand to caress the curve of his young oneıs
cheek.  Inevitably Amadeoıs attention, and hands, started moving lower.

³May I . . .?² Amadeoıs hand hovered over Mariusı body under the water.

Might as well get this over with, Marius thought.  ³Yes.²  He watched as
the small hand lowered and grasped him firmly.  Amadeo looked up at him
with raised eyebrows.

³Well,² Marius asked, ³what did you expect?²  He started to chuckle in
genuine amusement.  This was so ridiculous.  But he guessed these were
issues that would have to be dealt with sooner or later. 

Marius had a sudden sobering thought.  He couldnıt even remember wondering
about such things when he was made.  At the time, they had seemed
irrelevant.

³Youıre very hard,² Amadeo observed as he slid his hand slowly up and down.

³Iım fifteen centuries old, dear one,² he grinned.

³Will I ever be this hard?² his fledgling asked in all seriousness.

³When youıre fifteen centuries old,² Marius replied, teasing.  He chuckled
again.  ³Not that it will make any difference, beloved,² Marius pointed
out.

³What do you mean?² Amadeo asked.

³See for yourself,² Marius suggested, amused.  He hadnıt had so much fun in
a long time.  His Amadeo was so sweet.  He supposed he shouldnıt tease him,
but it was irresistible.

Amadeo tightened his grip around his Masterıs hard flesh and started moving
his hand up and down more vigorously.  Nothing.  He looked up at his
Master.  His Master was grinning like a madman.  As their eyes met, his
maker lifted his eyebrows in enquiry and Amadeo flushed.  He looked back
down to where his ministrations were having no effect and stopped.  Instead
he explored the tip with one delicate finger.  He looked up and saw an
affectionate smile on his Masterıs face.

³Our bodies donıt work like that any more, sweet one,² Marius reminded him
gently.  To prove his point conclusively, he reached over and wrapped one
hand around Amadeoıs semi-erect penis.  He treated his fledglingıs body to
the same movements that had been used to no effect on him . . . with the
same result.

³Well?² asked his Master.

Amadeo was looking very thoughtful.  He remembered his Master doing this to
him once before.  But the sensations were nothing similar.

³Itıs very nice,² Amadeo said.  ³But then so is a pat on the back.  Or the
feel of your hand holding mine.²  He sounded disappointed.

³Donıt sound so sad, darling one,² Marius consoled him.  ³There are other
things for us to share now.²  He released Amadeo and reached up with that
hand and drew one sharp fingernail across the vein on the side of Amadeoıs
throat.  ³Other pleasures . . .²  

Amadeo shivered.  ³Yes,² his voice was thoughtful, his eyes focussed now on
his Masterıs mouth.

Time to get out of this bathtub, thought Marius.

³Come, letıs go,² Marius stood and pulled Amadeo up with him.  ³I have
something else that I want to show you tonight.²

³But . . .² Amadeo looked up into Mariusı eyes, desire and disappointment
warring on his sweet face.

Marius swung him out of the tub and grabbed a long length of cloth.  He
wrapped it around himself.  Then he took another from the pile on the chair
and began drying his fledgling.

³Later, beloved,² Marius promised, dropping a kiss on Amadeoıs forehead.  
³I have something I want to show you about your new preternatural
abilities; something that I donıt think you have discovered for yourself
yet.²

Amadeo watched his Masterıs hands move in a blurr of motion as he was dried
and helped to dress in clean clothes.  He watched amused as Marius clothed
himself in only leggings and shirt again, as on one other memorable
evening, and then drew on a floor length red velvet and brocade robe and
fastened it from neck to knees with enormous elaborate gold buttons.

³That is a beautiful robe, Master,² grinned Amadeo, fingering its rich folds.

Marius grinned back.  ³Yes, it is, isnıt it?  It was a gift from a very
important political figure who shall remain nameless.  It was his, and he
insisted I have it.²

³Was he very evil, Master?²

³What?² Marius looked startled.  ³No.  No, my dearest.  The man is still
alive.  He gave the gift of his own free will,² Marius assured him, amused
at his fledglingıs misconception.  ³It was a token of appreciation for
services rendered,² here Marius did smile knowingly.  ³He knows I have a
weakness for red velvet,² Marius chuckled.

³And the services rendered were . . . ?²  Here Amadeo questioned with his
eyebrows as much as his voice.  He had some suspicions in his mind created
by that particular smile on his Masterıs face.  Did the Master ever kill
evil creatures by design?

³Why, Amadeo,² Mariusı eyes were wide and . . . could that expression, on
such an ancient demon, be called . . .  innocent?  ³A painting, of course,
my dear love,² Mariusı look dared Amadeo to contradict him.  ³He managed to
part me from one of my favourite paintings.²

Amadeo was going to take that at face value.  He couldnıt very well do
anything else without angering his Master.  Maybe the Master felt there
were some things about their dark life that he would be better off not
knowing.

Marius placed his arm around Amadeo and pulled him out of the room and down
the corridor to the stairs.  They left the door open behind them, and
candlelight spilled out into the darkness, a beacon for when they returned;
which Amadeo hoped was soon.

Amadeo found himself being led into the studio and was asked to help his
Master light the candelabra nearest their latest work.  It had stood
untouched while Marius was away and needed to be finished soon and
delivered by the promised date.  Marius knew there would be no problem
accomplishing this with Amadeoıs help, but Amadeo did not know this yet.

When the paints were waiting prepared in their pots, Marius drew his
fledgling forward and handed him a brush.

³Here, Amadeo,² Marius gestured to the section he had last been working on. 
³I want you to do it.²

His boy just stared at him in bewilderment.   ³But, Master,² he started,
³the robes are already done.  All that is left of that figure is the face.² 
He looked at his Master with a frown on his face.  ³You always do the
faces.  Iıve never painted a face in my life.  I certainly donıt want to
start trying on *this* painting.²  This one was going to be a masterpiece. 
Everyone who saw it said so.

³You can do it, Amadeo.  Trust me.²  Marius smiled at him patiently.

³How?²  Amadeo just shook his head at his Master, eyes wide with questioning.

³Use your new senses, Amadeo; your new abilities.  Think of all of the
angelsı faces that you have ever seen, all of the ones you have ever seen
me paint.  Think of the most kind and compassionate and angelic face you
have ever imagined in your mindıs eye, and then put your brush to the panel
and paint it.²

Amadeo just stared at the Master.  That was impossible.   How could the
Masterıs blood have given him the Masterıs gift for painting?  It was
impossible; wasnıt it?

He turned and stared at the blank irregular oval shape where the head and
shoulders of the angel should be.  Hmmm.  An angelic face.  Kindness. 
Compassion.  Love.  Almost without his own volition Amadeo lifted the brush
and began to paint.  He added a few broad strokes to the panelıs bare
surface.  Then he pulled some more pots of paint towards him.  He painted
some more.  He searched for a particular pot.

³Where is that shade of egg-shell white that you used up there on that
one,² Amadeo looked up from his strokes, pointing to another part of the
panel, questioning the Master.

Marius smiled.  ³Iıll get it.²

Amadeo turned back to his painting.  He probably would have been shocked at
the fact that the Master was actually doing *his* bidding, if he wasnıt so
completely and unnaturally absorbed in what he was doing.  This is
incredible, Amadeo thought to himself.  I can actually see a face as if it
was already drawn there and all I have to do is fill it in . . . make it
visible!

The searched-for colour appeared at Amadeoıs elbow and he picked it up and
started filling in large areas of the figureıs features.  He was soon
finished, and stood back looking at his handiwork in amazement.

Marius stood beside him with a wide smile.  Amadeo looked up at the Master
and then back at the painting.  It was an absolutely perfect rendering of
his Masterıs features, there on the panel in imperishable pigment.  And he
had painted it.

³How?²  Amadeo looked at his Master, awed by the experience and not
understanding how it had come about.

³Itıs just the way your new preternatural mind works, Amadeo.  You can see
things that before only existed in your mindıs eye, your imagination, your
memory.²

³Thatıs . . .  thatıs . . .² Amadeo did not have the words to describe his
amazement and delight.

³Wonderful?  Magical?  Amazing?² Marius offered some suggestions.

Amadeo looked back from the painting to his Master again.  ³Yes.  All of
those.  It is very hard to believe.  But . . . there it is.  And * I *
painted it.²  He held out his hand towards the painting.

³Yes, you did.  And you are going to paint more.  You are going to help me
finish this painting in record time.  And we will paint together from now
on.  What do you think about that?²

³Together?² Amadeo smiled.  He couldnıt express his joy, but Marius could
read it on his face anyway.

³Yes.  Every night.   Youıd like that, wouldnıt you?² Marius questioned,
although he already knew the answer.

³Yes!  Yes!²  Amadeo dropped the brush in the last paint pot he had used
and turned to hug his Master.

Marius held him off with both hands.  ³The paint, Amadeo, the paint!  Not
on my robe please!²  He shoved a paint-rag into his fledglingıs hands. 
³Get cleaned up.   I wanted you to see this, but I certainly donıt intend
to spend all night down here painting.  Hmmm? What do you say?²

Amadeo looked up from cleaning his hands off and caught that look in the
Masterıs eyes.  Oh, yes, he thought, and hurried to finish up.  Together
they put the paints away neatly.  The Master carefully cleaned the brush,
Amadeo watching beside him.  Then they stood back to check that everything
was in its place.  

Amadeo stepped close to his Master, whose arm came around him
automatically.  He looked up at his Master.  Marius caught that radiant
glance for just a moment and then he was pulling Amadeo along towards the
stairs.

.............................................................................
............................................................................


The door closed with a soft click and Amadeo looked back at his Master, who
was just turning away from it.

³Go and put out the lamp in the other room, Amadeo,² Marius told him.  ³And
then put some more fuel on the fire.²  

Amadeo went to do what he was told.  When he returned, he noticed the
candles by the dressing room had been extinguished and those in the
candelabra by the door had been moved nearer the large curtained bed.  His
Master was drawing back the heavy curtains and tying them with cords. 
Tonight the bed would be flooded with candlelight.

Amadeo paused in the doorway between the two rooms, watching his Master. 
Since the night that Amadeo had become a vampire, his Master hadnıt taken a
single drop of blood from his fledglingıs throat; except for those all too
brief and agonizing moments after feeding tonight.  

For four years, his Master had given him his vampire kiss every single
night that they were together in the palazzo.  The Masterıs trips away had
been an agony, but there had always been the promise of that overwhelming
kiss upon his return.  Every night.  For four years.  And then . . .
nothing.

Amadeo drank from the Master.  And it was incredibly satisfying, and
comforting, and delicious.  It sated hungers in him that the blood of
humans only began to feed.  But he had missed that kiss, that bite.  He had
not asked for it.  Still, he had craved it; the excitement of that moment,
the euphoria, the pleasure that obliterated thought and filled the senses
to the exclusion of all else.  Most of all, he enjoyed the knowledge that
his Master was the one who fed from him.  His *Master* was being pleasured,
and comforted, and sated . . . on *his* blood.  Amadeo trembled at the
thought.  He would give his Master *anything* he desired; *everything* he
desired.  He belonged to the Master.  There was nothing else that mattered
in the world of light that he had left, or the world of darkness that he
had found . . . except his love for his Master, and his Masterıs love for
him.  It was the fulfillment of every wish, every desire, every dream.  It
had come true.



His Master was standing by the big bed releasing the gold buttons of his
robe from their holes.  In seconds, Amadeoıs fingers had joined his
Masterıs and were helping to finish the task.  Marius dropped his hands to
Amadeoıs slim shoulders and let him do it.  He watched the graceful
movements of the slender fingers.  When the last button was free, he took
those fingers in his hands and brought them to his lips.

Marius looked down into Amadeoıs eyes and kissed one finger on one white
hand.  Amadeo smiled.  He moved the fingers to caress those generous lips,
but his Master took one into his mouth and bit it.

The boy couldnıt have moved his hand if he had wanted to, and he didnıt.
His eyes widened and a small breath was drawn into his lungs in haste and
then released on a sigh as the tongue of his Master coaxed a few drops of
blood from that finger with a gentle suction.  His eyes never left the face
of his Master as each finger, on both hands, was given the same attention. 
Each finger was released as soon as its tiny wound had closed.  By the time
all ten fingers had been tasted, Amadeo was visibly trembling.

Marius took pity on him.  He pulled his boy into his arms, cradling him for
a moment against his chest.  Then he pushed him down onto the bed.  Marius
swung his heavy robe off of his shoulders in a single shrug and placed it
on the end of the bed.  He sat down on the bed and pulling Amadeo towards
him started to unlace his fledglingıs tunic.  Before he could proceed, one
of his hands was caught in both of his fledglingıs, and was lifted to the
waiting mouth.

Marius smiled.  His eyes never left his loverıs as his fingers were kissed,
and bitten, and sucked on, one by one; the small hands holding his and
caressing it all the while.  Marius continued to unlace the tunic with his
free hand.  When the time to switch hands came, Amadeo paused just long
enough for his Master to lift the tunic off and throw it down on top of the
heavy red robe.  And then the ritual was resumed.

The last long white finger had been soothed, lingeringly, with the pink
fledgling tongue.  Marius cupped the sweet face in both hands and brought
their faces together for a kiss.  He was surprised, but pleased, when a
small fang caught at his bottom lip and stopped him from pulling away. 
Soon both their bottom lips were bloody.  They parted, took a breath each,
and then joined mouths again to clean up the mess.

This time when they parted, Amadeo slumped down on the bed, leaned back on
one elbow, and waited to see what the next step in their mutual seduction
would be.  As if either of them needed seducing.

Marius slumped down beside him, leaning on an elbow.  He reached for
Amadeoıs hand again and brought it towards his lips.  Immediately, the boy
sat up.  The forward momentum of his movement, as Marius held his arm, sent
Marius falling flat on his back.  Taking advantage of that position, Amadeo
scrambled onto his Masterıs body, settling down seated across the rock-hard
hips.

Marius laughed as his beloved made himself comfortable.  He was so happy
and so delighted with his Amadeo, he was almost light-headed.  Then, as
those slim hands started to wander across the flat plane of his stomach,
Mariusı smile died and another light sprang to life within the deep blue
fire of his eyes.

He reached for his fledglingıs hand and brought it towards his mouth. 
Amadeo mirrored his action, grasping one large white hand firmly with his
free hand and pulling it towards his lips.  Marius let him, completely
acquiescent.  This was going to be lovely, Marius thought.

He lifted the slim hand to his lips.  He turned it over and tried to kiss
the veins in the exposed wrist, but the sleeve of Amadeoıs shirt slid down
his arm and got in the way.
Marius thought for a moment.  He reached up and tugged on the shirt,
lifting the hem, pulling it towards himself.  Amadeo smiled.  In one fluid
movement he pulled it off over his head and tossed it carelessly to the
side.  Better, Marius thought.

³Move forward,² he suggested to his young one.  Amadeo obligingly knelt and
moved further up Mariusı hard body to settle on the flat stomach.  He held
out one arm, Marius pulled it towards his mouth, but his fledgling still
had to lean forward.

³A bit more,² Marius encouraged, and Amadeo moved again, sliding further up
the hard chest and this time not coming to rest until his wrist was snug
against his Masterıs lips with only a slight turn of the head needed. 
Marius then held out his other arm and his fledgling pushed the lace away
from the strong wrist.  Then Amadeo grasped the big hand firmly and
lowering his mouth, kissed the faint blue tracing beneath the hard white
skin.  All set.

Marius smiled and turned to trace the veins in the slim wrist with a
caressing tongue.  He glanced up at his fledglingıs intent expression as
his movements were copied exactly.  Time for some more teasing, Marius
thought.

He pressed his lips against his fledglingıs pulse, feeling its beat through
his entire body.  Amadeo did likewise to his Masterıs wrist.  Marius placed
a lingering kiss on the pulsing vein.  Amadeo did likewise.  Marius licked
a wet trail back and forth across the slim wrist, once, twice, three times. 
His actions were copied.  Marius scraped his fang teeth lightly across the
veins.  He felt the scrape of fangs across his own.  Marius used only his
lips and tongue to suck gently on the vein that stood out most prominently.

The next step would seem obvious, but Marius hadnıt finished his teasing. 
He returned to pressing his lips firmly against the veins to feel their
pulsing.  Amadeo followed his actions as he repeated the whole sequence
again.  And then repeated the sequence again, never going further than that
delicious and tantalizing sucking on the vein, keeping the fangs in check.

Finally, after the third time that Amadeo had scraped his fangs across the
bulging blue vein in his Masterıs wrist, something beyond his control took
possession of his will and he sank his fangs into the vein and sighed in
relief as the blood welled up and flooded his mouth.

Marius turned away from the slim wrist pressed against his lips and watched
as his beloved gave in to his thirst.  He smiled as he watched the white
throat swallow the first gulp of blood.  Amadeo had bitten deep, but was
managing to keep up with the flow.   Except for a deep red stain that
started at the corner of his open mouth and spread around the point of
contact between lips and flesh, painting the lips a bright bloody colour.

Something fired inside of Marius, a desire that couldnıt be contained.  He
sat up and pushed Amadeo down against the bed in one swift move.  The boy
gasped as he was torn away from the oozing wrist to which he had been
attached.  Not a sound was allowed to escape from between those lips. 
Marius was already on top of him, his mouth covering the bloody one in a
hungry kiss that licked, and sucked and delved, removing every trace of
blood from the sweet recess of his fledglingıs mouth.  When there was no
blood left to take, his lips licked up what was left of the red stain on
the pink lips beneath his.

Finally, Marius pulled back and tried to gather his wits.  He stared into
the wide startled eyes of his lover.

³What happened?² Amadeo breathed.

Marius smiled a little sheepishly.  He had never lost control like that
before.  The teasing seemed to have backfired on him to some extent.  But
those lips . . . it was those delicate and delicious lips that had driven
him to act on his deepest impulse.  There was something about those
beautiful lips, covered in blood, that roused an uncontrollable and almost
wild need in him; to taste, to possess, to feel those sweet lips yield
beneath his own.  Yes, a very primitive desire to own those tantalizing
lips, to brand them as his property.  How was he going to explain that
without sounding foolish?

He just grinned at his fledging and shrugged apologetically.  ³I guess I
got a little bit carried away,² he said.  ³Sorry, beloved.²

Amadeo grinned back at him.  ³Can we continue where we left off?²

³Of course, my love.  Of course,² Marius hastened to assure him.  He rolled
onto his back again and took Amadeo with him.  His fledgling lay his head
down on the broad shoulder where it fell and held up his wrist to his
Masterıs waiting mouth.

³Your turn,² he said.

³Donıt you want any more from mine?² Marius asked, surprised.

³No,² Amadeo said with a shy and quiet smile suffusing his face with a
faint tinge of pink.   ³I want to watch you drink from my wrist.²

Marius smiled tenderly at him and turned to the slim wrist in his hand.  He
brought it to his lips and gently slid his fangs through the white skin and
started sucking gently on the flow of blood welling there.

Amadeo rested his head comfortably on his Masterıs chest and watched that
wide generously cut mouth close on his wrist.  He watched the movement of
the firm cheeks as they sucked, the movement of the throat as it swallowed. 
He had never had a chance to see his Master drink from him before.  It was
a totally fascinating and absorbing sight.

He felt an overwhelming flush of warmth and contentment spread through his
whole body that had nothing to do with the pleasure of the bite and the
sucking, which was intense in itself.  No, this other feeling was not
coming from his veins.  It was coming from somewhere else.  Some other
magical part of his preternatural self was sending out this incredible
feeling of belonging, of completion, of an answer found, a reason given. 
He had only ever felt this much peace inside after sating himself at his
Masterıs throat.  How wonderful that returning that gift gave the same
sense of peace.

He watched as the movements of his Masterıs mouth slowed and stopped. 
Marius placed a last kiss on the closing wound and then reached for his
fledgingıs lips again, which were given up with great affection and
tenderness.  They kissed quietly for a few moments.  Then Marius released
those sweet lips and pulled them down to his throat.  He slid both hands
through the auburn curls and pressed the face close to him, tucking it
under his chin.  He brushed back the glowing tresses and bared the slim
neck to his hungry eyes.

³Drink, Amadeo,² he commanded, but in a gentle voice.  He needed this. 
Amadeo needed this.  This one last lesson would complete his fledglingıs
education . . . and hopefully, bind them together in one total searing
connection that would brand them lovers forever.

Amadeo nuzzled at the purple vein in his Masterıs neck, where it waited for
him to drink.   It was always waiting there for him.  It belonged to him as
much as to his Master.  He smiled.

Marius felt the bite and closed his eyes for a moment just savouring the
sensations.  Then he turned his head slightly and sank his teeth into the
tender throat of his young one.  

Amadeo stiffened in shock for a moment at the power of the connection, the
intensity of sensation as he drew blood and felt it being drawn, all in the
same motion.  Marius just kept his mind a blank, his emotions under
control, until his beloved had time to adjust to the new feelings, the
strange sense of another presence inside himself that he hadnıt felt since
the last time the Master mind-spoke to him.  Of course, this was much more
intense than that experience had ever been.

Amadeo gradually relaxed.  He let the intense pleasure play throughout his
body, feeling it intensify with the suction, and then weaken with each of
his swallows and each reciprocal swallow of his Master.

When Amadeo had become accustomed to the rise and fall of the waves of
pleasure his mind started to wander.  A thought formed, a question. 
Mariusı mind registered the thought and felt pleased.  His beloved was
quick.

³Master?² the query floated out into their joined minds.

³Yes,² Marius confirmed his presence.

Suddenly, a bolt of light that could only be described as sheer joy shot
through the connection.   It bounced and echoed and was absorbed by both
consciousnesses.  Marius felt as if he had been lit like a candle.  He sent
out love, and reassurance, and flooded their minds with a wave of
tenderness.  The brilliant light dimmed to an acceptable level, but did not
disappear.  Marius could feel his young loveıs mind struggling to feel it
all, the love and the joy, and not become overwhelmed.

Marius had an idea.  He concentrated on feeling the intense pleasure of the
connection, the flow of the blood, the euphoria of the link, and sent it
out in waves into their joined minds.

Amadeo immediately melted.  His body relaxed and he seemed to become
boneless against the hard white frame of his Master.  It was as if he was
joining himself to Marius physically as completely as they were joined
mentally.  And when the feeling of connection seemed at its zenith, a great
flood of contentment and peace flowed between them.  It rose like a wave
from Amadeo and Marius let it wash through him and then spread it out
throughout the connection, filling their minds, their every sense.

Marius let the feelings play back and forth between them.  He let Amadeo
absorb strength from them like the strength that he absorbed from the
blood.  He was careful not to introduce any images into their connection,
only feelings, which were intense enough for now.  

Images were too dangerous to give Amadeo yet.  Images were harder to
control.  They sometimes had a will of their own and appeared with the
least amount of provocation.  Time enough to share images when Amadeo had
learned more about his mental powers and how to control them.  For now, the
images that his fledgling carried within his mind could be stolen by
another with greater powers.  So protection must remain a priority.

Marius swallowed once more and then sent his own feelings of peace and
contentment into the bond.  They were stronger and resonated more intensely
than his fledglingıs had, perhaps because they had been harder won, and 
had taken longer in the realization.  

Amadeo drank deeply of everything his Master had to give him.  They were
truly one now, were they not?

........................................................................