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James forced himself to pull away. The heady scent of Lance’s cologne, mixed with the sweet tendrils of tobacco smoke (somehow so much less acrid than whatever Mrs. Wylit inhaled) was too much. He felt himself sliding into the scent, the moment, and Lance’s touch with an abandon he found distinctly alarming. They stood shoulder to shoulder and gazed on the stained glass, despite how dull it was in the dark of night. Occasionally, the colors popped in the headlights of a passing car.
“When I get home, I’m going to sleep for a week,” James groaned softly, just to say something, something to help this feeling slide. “In my own bed.”
Lance raised the cigarette to his mouth. The white paper of the stick was temporarily stained red as a car drifted past and cast light through the rosy glass before them. “Back home with Arthur.” Smoke curled in tendrils from the corners of his full lips. “To your own flat, your own life, your own bed.” He smiled and showed half of his two rows of straight white teeth. The curve of his cheek was devastating in the dim light, but it was more of a half-grimace than a smile, more sad than consoling.
“Yes.” James didn’t know what else to say.
“I suppose you’re eager to have this over with. So the two of you can get back to your lives.”
“I’m happy to do whatever it takes to fulfil Mr. Marlin’s last wishes.” James crossed his arms over his wrinkled beige shirt; a sudden, protective gesture.
“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.” Lance turned and faced him, and took a small step closer to put a reassuring hand briefly on James' shoulder. “That must have sounded like... no, that’s not — cocked this one up, haven’t I? I meant, well — what I’m trying to say is...” He filled the silence with a drag from his cigarette. “I’m jealous,” he finished.
“Jealous?”
Lance nodded, and scratched the back of his golden head with one thumb. “Yes, if I’m going to be honest. The two of you will go back to your lives, go back to the home you share. And... well, I hate to whinge and feel sorry for myself, but I can’t imagine, after all of this, after what I’ve understood about myself, discovered, if you will — I can’t imagine going back to my parents’ house, back to my job at the law office, back to Meopham.”
“Then don’t go back.” James followed Lance as he began to absently pace the bank of windows along the side of the chapel. “Nothing says you have to stay. Now that Mr. Marlin’s gone. You could move to London, too.”
“I think I shall have to.” Lance raised a foot and put out the cigarette against the bottom his shoe. He crossed his arms and sighed at the stained glass. “Can you believe it? It’s daft.” He gave a gentle chuckle that rubbed James' ears as sardonic. “Three fairies and a madwoman sheltering in a church. Claiming sanctuary.”
“We’re on a quest, like so many pilgrims before us.” James flicked invisible dirt from his shirt sleeve to avoid Lance’s gaze.
“I find it funny.” Lance reached out and tapped the multicolored window with one finger. “You know, my mother’s a real Bible-beater. Don’t know where she got it from — Granddad wasn’t really. Perhaps it was what he saw in the war, I don’t know, but he always had an excuse not to go with us to church.”
James nodded. “When I knew Mr. Marlin, he seemed rather secular, I suppose. Lady Barlow as well. Though there was something about her that was,” he paused, “mystical. I can’t explain it.” He smiled at the memory. “I wish you could have met her.”
“Me, too. I know it was difficult for you, leaving home and being trapped there with those bullies, but I almost wish I’d gotten to go off on Pied Piper. But Meopham, well — our little village wasn’t much of a target for the Germans.” Lance strolled over to the altar of the Lady Chapel and rested his fingertips lightly on the cloth. Then, he reached out and grabbed the silver cross that adorned it. James sucked breath in through his teeth at the sacrilegious nature of it, but stifled it with a little laugh.
Lance laughed as well, and turned to waggle the cross gently toward James before putting it back. “Whew.” He pretended to drag a palm over his perspiring forehead. “I thought maybe my hand would burst into flames.”
“Are you a vampire?” James smirked as he took a few steps closer and crossed his arms an eyebrow raised.
“I vant to suck your blood...” Lance put his fingers on either side of his mouth and hissed like a cornered cat. James guffawed, and it echoed through the empty church.
“Hush! Sleeping!” Lance lunged forward and grabbed James' shoulder with one hand, and pushed his other over James' mouth. They froze that way for a moment, their foreheads inches apart, before James gently stepped back. Lance kept the hold on his arm a fraction of a second too long, and a flush of blood pooled in James' cheeks again.
“Right, a vampire that lives with his mum,” Lance laughed.
“From personal experience, I can tell you that we monsters prefer to move out as soon as possible,” James said as he played with his hands, not sure where to put them. Lance’s quizzically-arched eyebrows urged him to continue. “My mother knows — she’s always known. And she tried to make a go of it, to be fair, but...” He shrugged. “She was embarrassed of me. At twelve I could see the relief on her face when she packed me onto that train with Arthur and the rest of the children. Though, now that time has passed, I think she realizes this is who I am, who I’ll always be. Now, she’s terrified for me, that I’ll be arrested or beaten or worse.”
“God, if Mother ever found out.” Lance rubbed his lower lip with a grimace at the thought. “Well, I told you how damned churchy she is. That’s why the cross ought to have burned my flesh at the touch. Because, well, you and I.” He flung his arms out and gave one dramatic spin. “All of this — this building is dedicated to a faith that casts us out. I remember sitting in the pew as a child and listening to the preacher belittle the ‘sinful sodomites.’ No one said ‘amen’ louder than I.” He leaned against the altar and rubbed his forehead first, and then his cheek, as he shook his head. “That night in Grantham when I confessed to you, I felt invincible. I felt so free and joyous. Only, over the last few days the glow’s worn off, and I’m worried. I’m worried about what it means to be who we are in this world. Terrified. Like your mum.”
“We have to protect each other.” James sensed some kind of thick force around his legs resisting his forward motion toward Lance. But he was able to push through and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder.
“Thank God—” Lance stopped himself with a curve of his full lips that twisted with irony. “Thank someone I found you.”
And somehow it happened, then, what shouldn’t have, what James never dreamed would occur — Lance embraced him. No, if the truth was to be told, they embraced each other. And kissed, hip to hip, against the altar dedicated to the Mother of God.
It was a rushing sweetness. That was all James was aware of in those moments when Lance’s mouth was on his, as they crushed together. After the initial tide of euphoria subsided, it was strange — he swore for a moment he heard lute music, and pulled away. No, some kind of auditory illusion, because the only sounds in the church were Lance’s panting breaths, and the innocent snoring from the opposite side of the room.
Lance put a hand in James' hair and drew him forward again.