Becquer stared at me. “Probably. Why?”
“I found it in his pocket today.”
“He’s not using.”
“How did you know — ?” I stopped as I realized that, like Federico, Becquer was reading my mind, or whatever it was immortals did. I glared at him.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Then don’t.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about Ryan. He’s clean. You must be proud of him. It’s hard to give up an addiction. Believe me, I know.”
He got up. “Now that everything has been clarified between us, let’s go. Whether I want it or not, I have a party to host. Which reminds me … ”
He was gone and back so fast that, but for the mask he held now in his hands, I wouldn’t have noticed he had moved at all.
I stood and examined the mask, a delicate piece of art made of ivory silk with colorful feathers.
“Don’t you like it?” Becquer asked, as I hesitated to pick it up.
“It’s beautiful.”
Again he smiled, the smile of a child pleased with himself. “Federico bought it for me last year when he was in Venice.”
He talked about Federico affectionately as if he had already forgotten his friend had just stomped out of the room, threatening to leave at once. When I mentioned this to him, he shook his head. “He won’t leave. He’s with Matt.” And for the way he said it, as a fact, I understood he was feeling his mind. Did he know, I wondered, of Matt’s attraction to Federico? But, of course, he must.
“Shouldn’t you apologize to him?”
“Apologize to him?” Becquer repeated, his eyes glowing red. “How can you suggest such a thing? He was the one who insulted me. He accused me of perverting Ryan — ”
“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”
“And spoil his fun? Federico enjoys thinking the worst of me.”
“That’s not true. He worships you.”
“I wish he didn’t. I am no god. Thus, no matter what I do, he’s bound to be disappointed.”
“I think you like him to worship you. Or you would have put an end to his infatuation long ago.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
“Obviously not hard enough.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Stop playing games with him, Becquer. If you really want Federico to forget you, you must treat him like your equal. Tell him the truth.”
“I will eventually.”
“Do it now. Mind to mind.”
“Even if I did, he won’t believe me because he would sense I’m hiding something from him. Which I am. But what I’m hiding is a surprise for him, not an ugly secret of mine. I’m hiding that I taught Matt and Ryan to play some of his poems set to song, and they’re going to perform them tonight.
“So you see why I have the right to be resentful of him? I plan a concert in his honor, and he pays me back by throwing wild accusations at me.”
“You care what he thinks,” I said, for the eagerness of his discourse suggested he was genuinely hurt.
“You seem surprised. I see. Federico has convinced you that I’m a monster. It’s useless. No matter what I do, Federico will never forgive me.”
“He has forgiven you long ago. It’s forgetting he has trouble with.”
Becquer looked away.
“We must go,” he said, “the guests are waiting. And I want you to meet Richard Malick. He’s interested in your manuscript.”
He offered me his arm, but I hesitated. I don’t like parties. Parties are full of people. I like people in small doses. Not all at once. And, if facing a room full of strangers was enough to send me into a panic, talking with a publisher, even if that was the main reason I had come to the party, made my knees grow weak.
“Are you all right?” Becquer asked.
I breathed in. “Yes.”
“You don’t seem all right to me. And you just fainted. Why?”
“I … Federico cut himself. I can’t stand the sight of blood.”
Becquer frowned, and stared at me, his face expressionless, his eyes as dark as unfathomable wells. As I stared back, his lips parted, to reveal white flashing teeth. For a moment, his canines, longer than what seemed normal, rested on his lower lip.
I didn’t see him move, yet he must have, because his body was close to mine, his hands cupped my face, and his lips were on my lips, pressing them open. Over the familiar scent of lemon and cinnamon that was his, I felt the salty taste of blood and in my mind I heard his words: “Take it. You must take it.”
As he spoke, I felt a pressure in my mind and images formed unbidden: a woman dressed in white sitting by a fountain; a young actress declaiming her lines on stage; a baby in a laced gown; an abbey — its bells ringing — outlined against the background of a solitary mountain; an angry mob burning a horse-drawn carriage while the horses reared, neighing in panic; the face of a woman, beautiful and pale, smiling with blood stained lips.
“Better now?”
Becquer’s voice intruded in my mind and the visions disappeared. I looked around. I was still sitting on the sofa, and Becquer was staring down at me, his perfect features set into a mask.
“What have you done to me?”
“Nothing, really.”
I checked with my tongue and found no wound inside my mouth to justify the taste of blood my mind still remembered. So the blood had not been mine.
“You gave me your blood.”
He shrugged. “Only a couple of drops. Just enough to solve your problem.”
“I didn’t know I had a problem.”
“You just told me you faint at the sight of blood. And I couldn’t help but notice you were terrified of joining the party. Now, you won’t be.”
“Have you changed me?” I asked, my voice higher than I had intended.
“No. Of course not. You would need a lot more of my blood for that. I gave you enough to make you stronger.”
“How wonderful. I don’t know how to thank you.”
Becquer gave me a crooked smile. “A kiss will do.”
“I was being sarcastic, Becquer. Don’t you get it? This is exactly what I was trying to explain to you before. You manipulate Federico, and everybody else, for all I know. You assume what people want and give it to them. Then get upset when they are not overjoyed by your interference.”
“I meant it as a gift.”
“Maybe. But even if your intentions are good, it is not all right to force your will on others. I didn’t ask for this ‘gift.’”
“All my lovers beg me to give them my blood. I thought you’d want it too.”
“I’m not one of your lovers.”
Becquer looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I see what you mean. I … I would take it back. But I can’t. The effect of my blood won’t last long, though, and I promise, I will ask next time.”
“You don’t have to ask next time for the answer is no. I don’t want your blood. I don’t want to be like you. In fact, I wish — ”
I wish I had never met you, I was about to say, but stopped because I didn’t want to offend him. Besides it wasn’t totally true. Although I’d rather not know there were immortal beings among us with powers to control humans’ minds, this ancient yet childish god who had just kissed me like a lover also fascinated me. And I hoped he had learned his lesson and was not sensing my feelings, because just then, I wanted nothing better than his
