the vibrations from whatev?er Arturo placed over the person were transmitted into the aura. For example, when he placed a clear quartz crystal above my head, a deep peaceful state settled in my mind. Yet if he used a similar crystal with young Ralphe, the boy would become irritated. Ralphe had too much going on in his mind and was not ready for crystals. Arturo understood that. He was an alchemist in the truest sense of the word. He could transform what could not be changed. Souls as well as bodies.
Arturo did not believe the body created the mind. He felt it was the other way around, and I believe he was correct. When he altered an aura, he changed the person's physiology as well. He just needed the proper materials, he said, to change anything. A flawed human into a glorious god. A sterile vampire into a loving mother.
It was, in the end, the chance to become human again that caused me to give him my blood. To hold my daughter in my hands again--what ecstasy! I was seduced by ancient griefs. Yaksha had made me pay dearly for my immortality, with the loss of Rama and Lalita. Arturo promised to give me back half of what had been stolen. It had been over four thousand years. Half seemed better than nothing. As I let my blood drip into a gold communion chalice for Arturo, I prayed to Krishna to bless it.
"I am not breaking my vow to you," I whispered, not believing my own words. "I am just trying to break this curse."
I did not know, as I prayed to my God, that Arturo was also praying to his. To allow him to convert hu?man and vampiric blood into the saving fluid of Jesus Christ. Genius may make a person a fanatic, I don't know. But I do know that a fanatic will never listen to anything other than his own dreams. Arturo was soft and kind, warm and loving. Yet he was convinced he had a great destiny. Hitler thought the same. Both wanted something nature had never granted--the perfect being. And I, the ancient monster, just wanted a child. Arturo and I--we should never have met. But perhaps our meeting was destined. My blood looked so dark in the chalice. The sacredness of the chalice did nothing to dispel my gloom.
Arturo wanted to place my blood above the head of select humans. To merge the vibration of my immor?tal pattern into that of a mortal. If he changed the aura, he said, the body would be transformed. He, of all people, should have known how potent my blood was. He had stared deep into my eyes. He should have known my will would not bend easily to the will of another.
"You will not put the blood in their veins?" I asked as I handed him the chalice. He shook his head.
"Never," he promised. "Your God and my God are the same. Your vow will remain unbroken."
"I'm not fooling myself," I said quietly. "I have broken a portion of it." I moved close to him. "I do this for you."
He touched me then--he rarely did, before that night. It was hard for him to fed my flesh and not burn. "You do this for yourself as well," he said.
I loved to stare deeply into his eyes. "That is true. But as I do this--for you as well as for myself--you must do likewise."
He wanted to draw back but he only came closer. "What do you mean?"
I kissed him then, for the first time, on the cheek. "You have to break your vow. You have to make love to me."
His eyes were round. "I can't. My life is dedicated to Christ."
I did not smile. His words were not funny, but tragic. The seed of all that was to follow was hidden inside them. But I did not see that then, at least not clearly. I just wanted him so badly. I kissed him again, on the lips.
"You believe my blood will lead you to Christ," I said. "I do not know about that. But I do know where I can take you." I set down the bloody chalice and my arms went around him, the wings of the vampire swallowing its prey. "Pretend I am your God, Arturo, at least for tonight. I will make it easy for you."
There was one last ingredient in Arturo's technique that I did not witness during my first session. While I was