by S J Williams
Catarina frowned. “Unfortunately, yes. No one’s sure why but the theory is they are more likely to suffer some kind of brain damage during the turn. It’s also said that, even if these immortals come out sane, they will still be weaker and less mentally able than normal immortals. Though,” she added darkly, “I’ve yet to see convincing evidence for that. In any case, the council takes great pains to avoid mistake. It is hard to keep our identity a secret when it’s running naked and screaming through the streets.”
“Is madness a big problem for immortals?” Effie asked gingerly.
Lucien sighed. “Living so long is stressful on the mind. It takes a special sort of mind, an innate adaptability and resilience, to be able to survive the changing times without falling into hopelessness and solitude, lost in a sea of short-lived mortals. It is hard enough, even with the best of starts, to stay completely sane for centuries on end. For all that we can live for thousands of years, few do. Despite our eternal conflict with vampires, I believe the most common cause of death amongst our kind is suicide.”
Effie nodded. She could only imagine what demons a person could pick up after living through more lifetimes than the human mind was ever meant to sustain.
“Do you give everyone this talk,” she asked, half joking, “to make sure they’re thoroughly scared before you turn them?”
Catarina raised her eyebrows in surprise at the question. “Of course. It would be irresponsible to sell immortality as some kind of heaven on earth. We might be more robust than most but we are still human. We still suffer.”
Effie, who hadn’t been expecting such a grim answer, nodded solemnly. She could see the wisdom of that now.
“But you’ll be fine.” Catarina said briskly. “In fact, you’re lucky. You’ll be rich in friends and money.”
“Money?” Effie asked, startled. “What money?” Her parents, though generous with their love, hadn’t left her with a vast inheritance.
“Didn’t you know?” Catarina ignored the angry look Sebastian sent her and the frantic shushing noises coming from Henry. “When you died, you were a wealthy woman. I imagine Sebastian has kept all your money nicely invested. After five hundred years, you’re probably looking at millions.”
Effie gaped at her, feeling all the blood drain from her face, then turned to Sebastian with wide eyes. He was still glaring at Catarina. Eventually, he turned to meet her gaze. “You’re under no pressure to take the money until you’re ready.”
Which will be never, Effie thought, refusing to accept the reassurance that Sebastian was trying to give her. She might as well go rob the woman’s grave while she was at it.
“The next step,” Sebastian continued with a final dark look at Catarina, “would be to send for the councillor who has charge of this territory and they would come and oversee the turn.”
Effie gulped at the thought of meeting one of these great councillors in person. “Can’t they just watch on Zoom or something?”
Catarina snorted, then burst out laughing. Lucien grimaced.
“The council are not that au fait with modern technology.”
“I thought you said immortals had to be adaptable?” Effie asked Lucien.
“Hey, I’m adaptable.” He fished out an old Nokia from his back pocket. “I took the twentieth century in my stride.”
“And the twenty-first century?” Effie drawled.
He sucked a measuring breath through his teeth. “I’m working on it. You’ll have to ask these wizards about immortals using any of the new fancy gadgets.” He gestured to Sebastian and Henry. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so excited about a lump of metal and plastic.”
Henry shrugged modestly. “What can I say, I live life on the edge.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Sebastian snorted. “Didn’t you nearly faint when you thought you put your phone through the washing machine last week. I thought there was a fire or something.”
“Hey! That was a genuine emergency.” Henry protested.
“And the phone was in the kitchen all along.” Sebastian shook his head, a reluctant smile on his face.
“For which I will be forever profoundly thankful.” Henry said. “But we’re getting distracted. What were we talking about again?”
“Whether Effie is going to turn or not,” Catarina said, a growl creeping back into her voice. “Have you made up your mind then?”
The simple answer was no, but Effie didn’t dare be that blunt in the face of Catarina’s impatience.
“Can I have a little more time?” She begged.
Catarina snorted again, then sighed.
“Well, it’s not as if we haven’t got anything else to do while we’re waiting. There’s still this dratted vampire to find. I swear I’m going to track him down, even if it means smoking him out.”
Effie looked at Catarina askance. She wasn’t convinced the volatile immortal wouldn’t set Florence on fire to do just that.
“We were talking about going to the university earlier today.” Henry told Catarina and Lucien. “Bartholomew, posing as Roberto, claimed to have studied there. We were going to confirm that and find out if we can get any history on the diary we found in his safe at Effie’s old flat.”
“Diary?” Lucien looked between them. “What diary?”
While Henry caught Lucien and Catarina up on what they’d found, Effie went to fetch the diary. She looked at the old book ruefully.
“Poor old thing.” She murmured as she picked it up. “You really aren’t being looked after as you should be.”
She turned and swallowed a gasp when she saw that Sebastian had followed her. He must have cat feet, she thought. She hadn’t heard a thing.
“Are you all right, Effie?” He asked, pitching his voice so the sensitive ears in the kitchen couldn’t hear him. “I know Catarina can be a little abrupt at times.”
She gave him a lop-sided grin, hoping he wouldn’t see the tension that had turned her shoulders to bricks. She knew Catarina’s bluntness wasn’t what was really eating at him.
“I’m sorry. I just need more time.”
Sebastian smiled at her painfully and glanced over his shoulder. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Your parents. I gather you haven’t had the chance to properly grieve for them yet.”
Effie looked down at her feet. She was wearing the pretty sandals her mother had bought her the last time they had gone shopping together. That was over a year ago now, a different life. It hurt to think about them like that, so she quickly looked up again.
“I’ll be fine.” She said firmly. When Sebastian just raised an eyebrow at her, she gave him an exasperated look. “Now is hardly the time to hole myself up somewhere to cry for a month. There was a memorial about eight months ago when we finally gave up hope of ever seeing them again.” It had been her mother’s friends, rather than her, who had arranged it. “I said my goodbyes then.”
Sebastian sighed and nodded, then gestured for her to walk ahead of him back to the kitchen. As she passed, his hand just brushed the small of her back. Heat blossomed from the point of touch, at the same time sending goosebumps all the way up her spine. She upped her pace to hide her shiver and she felt his hand fall away. She missed it, but she didn’t dare look back. She didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. The sadness as he was reminded yet again that she wasn’t the woman he thought she was.
Sebastian stalked after Effie as she re-entered the kitchen. He watched as the others pored over the diary. Lucien paused to shake his head with wonder.
“It is fascinating”, he said, “how ideas fall in and out of favour. It’s like watching the fate of courtiers subject to the whim of a fickle queen. Take this theory about the humours. When it fell out of fashion, I would have said that medicine would never look back and yet now I see all these wellness trends that talk about harnessing positive this and banishing negative that and I have to think it all sounds very familiar.”
Henry sno
rted. “Humans like being in control. They don’t like the idea that their lives could be snatched away from them at any moment.”
Neither did immortals, Sebastian thought as he watched Effie through hooded eyes. Despite seeing death first hand for hundreds of years, he’d believed himself truly immortal. And then Effie had died and death was no longer an abstract concept. But she was back. They could be together once more. She hadn’t said no. Not yet. He would have to make sure she came to see that no was not an option. He’d lost her once. He would not lose her again.
It was about an hour later when Henry groaned and pushed away from the table.
“That’s it. I can’t read another word.”
Catarina turned to tease him, but a massive yawn interrupted her. She scowled, then huffed a sigh, one foot tapping.
“Bah. You’re right. Even I’m tired and that’s saying something.”
Effie and Lucien still had their heads together, bent over the diary and muttering about strange cures to even stranger illnesses. Lucien’s dark umber locks mingled with Effie’s lighter gold brown where it curled around her temples. The air was humid tonight. Perhaps they would have rainstorms, the weather providing an apt accompaniment to his mood.
But the night rolled in without any breakthrough in either the weather or the puzzle of the diary.
There was one balm for the persistent itch under his skin. Effie watched him when she thought he wasn’t looking. There was doubt in her eyes. But… not only doubt. There was desire there, too. And questions. So many questions.
He caught her eye. Blushing, Effie looked down again and turned another page. Her eyes widened.
“Hey, look at this!”
Catarina stirred from where she’d been studying something on her phone. “Find anything?”
Lucien, who had bent over the text under Effie’s finger, looked up, his eyebrows lost in his hair.
“I should say so. Let me see those photographs of the portraits.” Reaching across the table, he dragged the pile of print outs towards him. Flicking through them, he began to arrange them in order according to something he was reading in the diary.
“What have you found?” Sebastian came to stand behind Effie. She was so excited by her discovery, she hardly noticed. Sebastian tried not to see that as a bad sign.
“I’ve found a list that, if I’m not mistaken, is a record of the portraits from the gallery.” She beamed up at him, the expression so happy, it short-circuited his mind for a second.
“Yes,” Lucien said. “They’re all here.” Looking around at the others, he smiled. “I believe we have a breakthrough.”
“Could this be Amedeo’s diary?” Effie asked breathlessly. “That would explain all the stuff about the pigments.”
“Yes,” Lucien said slowly. “Though not the medical research.”
“No.” Effie frowned, frustration replacing her delight. “That’s true.” She groaned and tipped her head back, rolling the stiff muscles in her neck. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m starting to see words whenever I close my eyes.”
Lucien cast her a wry smile. “I think we’d both be wise to pace ourselves. This is definitely not going to be a quick job.”
Nodding tiredly, Effie pushed herself away from the table and stood up.
“On those wise words, I think I’ll go to bed. Night all.” She said, waving to the room in general and disappearing into the hall.
Sebastian watched her go then got up to go into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water then stared at it, wondering why he didn’t get himself something stronger. He felt, rather than heard, Henry come up behind him.
“You’re being too intense.” Henry said bluntly. “You’re scaring her off.”
Sebastian sighed explosively then abandoned his water to go and stare out of the window into the darkened garden.
“Can you blame me?” He asked, at last. It was beyond him to be subtle now, when so much was at stake.
“Blame you? No, I can’t blame you. But, for her sake, you need to tone it down. Give her some space.”
Sebastian snorted then laughed ruefully. “I’ve noticed you’ve made a point not to leave me alone with her.”
Henry came up beside him. “Can you blame me?” He echoed Sebastian’s earlier words. “You’re practically stalking her.”
Sebastian winced. There was a lot of truth in that.
Henry watched him for a moment, then shook his head. “I think we can safely assume now that she’s not going to be exactly the same, even if her memories do come back. What was lost is gone. You’re not going to be able to start up immediately where you left off.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Sebastian swung round to look at Henry. “It’s being hammered home at every bloody opportunity. I could have throttled Catarina earlier for what she said about Effie’s money.”
Henry grimaced. “Yeah. That wasn’t necessary.”
“No. But now Effie’s going to worry about that on top of everything else. And Bartholomew is still out there.” The last three words were spoken through gritted teeth.
“We’ll catch him.” Henry said, his voice low and dangerous. “He’s made a mistake this time.”
Sebastian glanced at Henry, confused. Henry shrugged.
“He left Effie to get his medallion for him. He thought she’d stay loyal to him. He was wrong and we can use that against him.”
Sebastian nodded. They didn’t say anything for a while, staring out over the moonlit garden. Finally, Henry slapped him on the back and turned to leave the kitchen. Just before he left, Sebastian spoke up.
“When you say Effie isn’t the same as she was, you forget I’m not the same man either. We are both scarred, Effie on a level too deep for her to understand yet. Perhaps, now, we are more suited to each other than we have ever been.”
“Right?” Henry was silent for a moment. Then, he said, “Just so long as you give her the time to learn that for herself. Though, I think you may be right. Prepare yourself for some painful days ahead, my friend. I have a feeling some of these old scars will have healed badly.”
Sebastian said nothing. Henry left him to watch the night and nurse his thoughts. Painful? He was sure the next few days were going to be excruciating. But he would suffer it. His reward would be the greatest gift imaginable.
9
Effie dreamed.
Silken sheets kissed her cheek and the night air bathed her back in its cool embrace. Effie wasn’t cold. Anticipation lit little fires throughout her body, leaving her quivering, every instinct on high alert. She was so tense, when his fingertip touched her, she jumped.
Rich, masculine laughter filled the intimate air. She shivered and tried to roll over but he laid a hand on her back, pinning her gently in place.
“No. Let me… indulge.”
She brought her arms up so she was resting on her forearms, her elbows tucked in under her breasts.
“Don’t take too long.” She breathed into the sheets. “There’s only so much I can take.”
“Liar.” His lips caressed her spine. He said no more, too absorbed with kissing every inch of skin down her back. After each kiss, the chill of the night met the heat of her back, making her skin burn. She buried her face into the pillow but, when he moved lower, drawing the sheet down as he went, she made a high, desperate sound and wiggled.
“Have I found a ticklish spot?”
He kissed her again, so light she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it. Then he stroked one finger down the curve of her waist.
That was too much. She flipped onto her back and met…
Fire. Heat so intense, it registered only as screaming, blinding pain. Everything was burning. Her eyes, her lungs. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run. But she could do nothing. She was held there, outside of time, outside of hope, burning eternally.
Effie’s eyes jerked open and she moved, throwing herself away from the flames.
Carpet met her knees and toes. Thin, old carpet
laid over wooden floorboards. She pressed her hands against it, grounding herself. Remember. She needed to remember where she was. She was safe. She was not burning.
As reality came back to her, she closed her eyes and bowed her head. Not again. How many times would she have to burn alive?
She thought about standing up, but the faint echoes of pain held her in place, too frightened to move.
I’m being daft, she chastised herself. That fire was all in her head. Quickly, before she could think about it, she stood.
No pain. No heat. No smoke. Nothing but a dream.
A sickening loss clutched at her stomach and she bowed over, fighting the pangs of searing grief. She didn’t know which hurt worse, the fire or the misery of losing something. It didn’t matter. The two always came together.
Straightening more slowly, she rubbed at her arms and looked for something to cover herself. She found the light kimono she’d brought to use as a dressing gown and slipped it on, wrapping the belt around her waist. Giving herself a shake as the final echoes of nightmare faded, she breathed in deeply through her nose. She was fine. The room had just been too warm, that was all. Being too hot in bed always brought on that nightmare.
Or that memory. Could it be a memory? Hadn’t Sebastian said something about his Effie being burned to death? Was she suffering from five hundred year old PTSD? That would make sense if she’d been burned alive in a former life. If such things as reincarnation existed, it would be just her luck that the only memory she’d retained was the very worst one imaginable. That, and the crushing sense of loss. Not even losing her parents had made her feel as bad as that.
Should she take these dreams as evidence? In which case, the first dream, the good dream, might be a memory too. Or was that just wishful thinking? She had never felt so comfortable, so natural with a man in bed despite longing to feel that connection with someone. Was she just projecting that longing onto Sebastian? Was she just hoping that this time, for once, sex wouldn’t be an awkward fiasco?
She blushed and flinched away from the most recent memory of sex that her brain liked to throw at her, one of its little stealth attacks to knock back her self-esteem just when she thought she might be getting more confidence in that part of her life.