THE IMMORTAL: A Novel of the Breedline series

by Shana Congrove

  His younger brother thought back. “I remember how much you loved her, and she you. Until...” he paused, his voice was gentle but firm, “she chose a different path.”

  He looked at his little brother with a deep and remorseful stare. “Yes,” he murmured. “She betrayed me.”

  A heavy silence fell between them. He watched his older brother glance away, heard the weariness of his sigh.

  “But now, you have another. You’ll see, brother. Jena will prove to be a worthy bride.”

  “Yes, she will.” Pausing, he added, “It would break my heart if she betrays me. Or even thought of betraying me as my Isabella did.”

  He watched as his brother’s shoulders slumped, as his eyes took on a low-spirited gloom. And he felt that strong feeling of despair that always came when he spoke of Isabella. Her name brought up the past, and the memories that came with it. For a brief moment, his mind went back in time as if in a vivid dream.

  * * *

  Nearly two centuries ago, in the early 1800s, the world was a different place then. During the time living as a human, he and his older brother—whose ancestry derived from white, upper class—had everything handed to them on a silver platter. Their father owned a plantation in New Orleans and their mother inherited her family’s fortune. With the combined wealth, they had a countryside mansion built, surrounded by acres of flourishing land. Their fortunate prosperity gave them many luxuries: imported furniture, expensive oil paintings, and vintage silk tapestries that decorated their home. While most of their peers lived in the middle class and poverty, their childhood lavished them in a wealthy lifestyle filled with Victorian fashion, fancy restaurants, and elaborate parties. Their mother would not settle for anything less. He and his family loved living this life. All except for his older brother. He hated those things. He was different from the rest of the family. The Catholic Church was what mattered to him. And that’s where he met his beloved Isabella.

  Isabella was breathtakingly beautiful. She had the fairest of skin, flawless like a porcelain doll. Her eyes were the color of the ocean, a pale blue with tiny specks of gold that glittered in the outer edges. Her honey-blonde hair hung in thick waves past her small waist. Isabella was tall for a female, yet feminine and graceful. It wasn’t unusual for a young, beautiful girl like Isabella to have several suitors, but it was obvious to everyone that her heart belonged to his brother.

  The day his brother began courting Isabella, it was the year the nation had endured a widespread depression following the Panic of 1819 and the momentous issue of the extension of slavery into the territories. At the time, his older brother was in his twenties and already established in his father’s flourishing business, regardless of the economy. He and Isabella courted for nearly three summers. His love for her seemed to have no end or limits. Soon after Isabella’s eighteenth birthday, he went to her father to ask permission for her hand in marriage. The minute her father gave him his blessing, his brother—who was confident she would accept his marriage proposal—secretly arranged their wedding engagement with family and friends. Unfortunately, when he proposed to Isabella, she refused. A few weeks prior, she had decided on another path, vowing a life of celibacy. She made the choice to dedicate her life to the service of the Church and move to England where she would join a women’s convent.

  The devastating news destroyed his brother, nearly driving him to madness. He stopped attending church, refused to eat, and soon gave up on life itself. Overwhelmed with grief and despair, he abandoned his family and his love for God.

  He briefly closed his eyes and remembered the day of his brother’s death. It had been only a month after Isabella’s rejection, and the worst day of his life. His brother’s broken heart led him to take his own life. He left a note indicating his despondency. He could remember every detail as though he had a photographic memory.

  My dearest Isabella,

  Without you, I cannot take another breath. I can only live, either altogether with you or not at all. Yet you have made your choice. Please forgive me. I regret, the decision I must make.

  Oh God, why have you forsaken me? Why must you take away from what I love so? My love will forever belong to you my beloved. Never another one can own my heart, never—never! Even in this darkest of times, I yearn to be with you, to hold you once more in my arms.

  You, my life, my all, farewell.

  Ashton C. Ratcliff

  Then another unforgettable memory—one that was irrevocable—flashed into his mind like it was yesterday. It was the day a dark and mysterious man dressed in a long, hooded cloak approached him the night before his brother’s burial. He addressed himself as the Master and offered to return his brother Ashton back from the dead. He gave him a choice. In exchange for the gift of immortality, he must freely render his soul. Which meant he had to offer his brother’s as well. What did it matter? Ash had committed suicide. His soul was already damned. Eternal damnation might be a hefty price, but for his big brother, he was willing to pay.

  The memory of what he had done nearly broke him. If only he had known what would become of Ash, he would have never chosen to resurrect him. That dreadful night sealed his brother’s fate and cursed him for eternity. Yes, they were to live forever, free from sickness and disease, but it was not worth the harrowing result. Unknowingly, Ash was to become something different... something diabolical and unholy.

  He followed the Master’s every detail. He instructed him to place his brother’s corpse inside an aboveground tomb in the cemetery known as the “Cities of the Dead.” It was imperative that he cover the body with sanctified soil before he sealed the coffin. Then, within three days, Ash would once again return to the living as promised.

  He would never forget that third day. Everything about it would forever haunt his memory. The night had been relentlessly humid and muggy. As he stood outside the wrought iron gates that housed the dead, the full moon shining down from above gave him enough light to see by.

  It wasn’t long before he located his brother’s crypt. As he approached the oblong house-like tomb, he reached out with a shaky hand and inserted a skeleton key to unlock the door. The rusty hinges creaked as he slowly pushed at the entrance. Although the brightness of the moon produced enough light to get him there, he prepared himself by bringing with him a lantern. The darkness instantly brightened as he aimed the light inside the crypt. He nervously hesitated for a moment before he crossed the threshold. The brightness from the portable light fell in all sorts of odd forms as he moved it around. The inside of the old structure was thick with dust, and in the corners were masses of spiders’ webs. Oddly, he felt as though someone was following behind him. He continuously looked over his shoulder at every sound and every shadow, but there was no sign of anyone. His fear of the unknown led his imagination afar. Under different circumstances, if it were someone other than his brother, he would have abandoned the task at this point. Bringing Ash back to life gave him strength and a purpose to continue.

  Finally, he came upon his brother’s resting place and shined the light over the top of the long, narrow box. Straightaway he reached to open it, and as he lifted the wooden lid, he positioned the light so it would shine inside. But to his unforeseen revelation, the coffin was empty. Only the remnants of the holy soil remained.

  It was certainly a surprise to find Ash’s body missing, and it gave him a considerable shock. Then he wondered if all this had been just a ruse. His mind toyed with all the possible implications. Perhaps the cemetery’s undertaker had taken his brother’s body. He instantly became unnerved and angry with the one who addressed himself as the Master for taking him on such a deceitful journey. He was angry with himself for his gullibility.

  As he closed the coffin lid, he heard the rustle of movement coming from behind like the sounds of heavy footsteps. He quickly spun around with the lantern in his hand and held it up.

  What he saw brought him to his knees. His eyes rounded in sheer terror. It cannot be, he feverishly thought.
No...

  * * *

  “Why do you always think back on that day?” his older brother said, bringing him back to focus.

  He regarded him with a deep and compassionate stare. “How can I not?” he replied, keeping his voice low. “It will forever haunt me.”

  “Eternity is a long, long time, little brother. There’s no sense in digging up old wounds, am I right?”

  He conceded with a nod. “Yes, of course. You’re right. It’s just that...” He paused and shrugged. “I feel responsible for—”

  “You are not to blame for anything,” he said abruptly. “’Twas I who made the choice to end my own life. If not for you, I would be suffering in hell’s eternal flame.”

  “But I...” he briefly paused, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth. Mentioning that particular incident had been almost too much for him to bear. “I damned your soul.”

  “No, little brother.” He shook his head. “You gave my life back. Why bother yourself with such things?” He shrugged. “You know my true feelings of this. I will be forever grateful to you.”

  “It’s Jena,” he told him. “She looks so much like her. I cannot help but remember the pain Isabella caused you. Thinking about it reminds me of—”

  “Indeed she does,” he quickly remarked. “Why do you think I chose her? At first, it was not clear why I felt so drawn to Jena that night in the cemetery. Then shortly, it finally came to me. Jena is a direct descendant of Isabella. That was the moment I knew she was the one. And this time, I will succeed.” His mouth tilted into a sinful grin. “It’s all a matter of... shall we say... selective breeding.”

  “How do you think Jena will feel when she discovers the truth?”

  “The truth about her?” He cocked a brow. “Or Isabella?”

  There was a moment of silence. Then he looked full into his big brother’s dark eyes and said, “Both.”

  “Don’t I always have a plan for everything?”

  “Yes.” He flashed a slight smile. “And more.”

  “Soon, very soon, all that Isabella had once promised and then denied me will finally be mine. I will have a bride, and then offspring to carry on my legacy. The name Ratcliff will live for centuries to come.”

  “And what of the battle angels? As of now, they are joining with the Breedline.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry, little brother. They cannot destroy me.”

  “But Jena can.”

  “I am fully aware. And I am prepared.” His tone was faintly bitter. “You, of all people, should know that, Nicolas.”

  He slightly bowed his head. “I do not doubt you, brother.”

  “Before Jena’s arrival, I will need to feed once again.” His eyes hazed over and a low growl trickled over his lips. “Whilst I’m gone, keep watch on the girl.”

  “Yes, brother,” Nicolas obediently complied, glancing down in shame. “I will take care of everything.”

  “Of course you will.” A smile played across his face the way Lucifer might have smiled moments before he fell from heaven. “You always do...” He seemed lost in thought for a few moments, then went on to say, “...take care of everything.”

  Nicolas watched miserably as his brother turned away and disappeared into the shadows of the dark and musky place that housed so much death. The images of all the innocent lives lost filled his head. His brother would have to die soon, for this might be his last chance to put an end to the curse.

  Despite his disgust at the foul things his brother had done and his horror at what he was planning to do, deep down there was also a feeling of guilt and a strange sort of disloyalty. Betraying his own flesh and blood was going to break his heart.

  He tried to think. Time was ticking. He had but a day to formulate a plan. Somehow, he had to find a way into the Breedline Covenant to confront Jena with the truth. He had to convince her to kill his brother. That would be the hardest part, for she was spellbound. Then, more importantly, he had to save the innocent girl his brother kept prisoner.

  He paced back and forth, straining his brain to come up with a plan. Suddenly, he stopped and ran a hand through his hair. He looked puzzled for a moment then uttered a small gasp. “The journal.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After the battle angels exited the Covenant, promising to return tomorrow at dusk, everyone else turned in for the night except for Jena. She invited Angie to stay behind so they could talk. It had been a long and exhausting day. There were things Jena needed to say to her best friend, and hopefully, it wouldn’t ruin the close friendship they shared. So far, after Jena spilled her guts in front of Angie and the Covenant, telling them about how she had weakened to the curse, not a single person looked down on her. In fact, everyone including the angels was nothing but supportive. They all had accepted what would become of her.

  This was the first time in Jena’s life, excluding Angie, that friends and family didn’t judge her for her imperfections. Although her parents made her believe for years that she suffered with schizophrenia—after she told them of her special abilities to speak with the dead—she now knew God had given her this gift for a reason. She was born to give peace to the dead and their grieving families. That gave her a renewed purpose in life.

  “Please sit,” Jena said as she patted the seat next to her on the couch. “I have some things I need to tell you, Ang.”

  As Angie sat down, Jena fought back tears. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t break down, no matter how guilty she felt.

  “Look, Jena,” Angie said, noticing the tense look on her best friend’s face. “You know I don’t blame you for what’s happened.” She took hold of Jena’s hand. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

  Jena’s eyes stared straight into hers, filled with so much raw emotion. “I have to talk about it. There’s things that I...” she hesitated as her eyes misted with tears, though she made a gallant effort to hold them back. “Things I haven’t told anyone, and you’re the only one I can tell this to.”

  Angie went silent for a moment. Just thinking of what Jena had been through—and what worse things she had to endure—made her feel helpless. If there were a way to take her friend’s place, she would do it in a heartbeat.

  She leaned closer, and lightly squeezed Jena’s hand. “It doesn’t matter what it is, Jena. You can always tell me anything. Hell, you’re like the closet thing I have to a sister. You know this will only stay between the two of us, right?”

  Jena nodded and took a long, deep breath, struggling to get her emotions under control. She felt sad all of a sudden, and disappointed in herself. She’d welcomed the creature into her bed with wide-open arms and freely gave in to him. She instantly felt ashamed. Deep down, Jena knew she wasn’t born evil, despite whatever she had to do in order to destroy the creature. However, after she completed the task the angels set her out to do, she would become something she despised—the same thing that killed Todd and Sophie. Once again, she was at the mercy of the memories of her weaknesses. His alluring voice... his lips upon her throat... the taste of her own blood... their intertwined bodies moving together as though they were one...

  “Hey, girl.” Angie’s voice drew her firmly back again, forcing her memories away. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here for you.”

  Jena attempted a smile, and then she choked out, “I slept with him.”

  Angie felt blindsided. She stared back at Jena speechless.

  “I mean not the creature itself. He was in his human form, and he didn’t force me,” Jena went on. “I welcomed him. I wanted it.”

  “No, Jena.” Angie’s strained voice finally came out. “It’s not your fault. He had you under some kind of spell.”

  “I should have known better. I was fully aware of what I was doing. I mean, when it happened, it was like a dream, but at the same time, I was kind of—”

  “Hypnotized?” Angie said, cutting Jena off.

  “It was more like some kind of connection with hi
m.” Jena paused, as if thinking. “I know it sounds insane, but even when he first came to me in the hospital, there was something familiar about him. Like somehow I’ve met him before. Perhaps in another life.”

  Angie shrugged. “Maybe.” She seemed to accept this without surprise. “Anything is possible. Did this man-beast-werewolf thing happen to mention its name?”

  Jena frowned. “Man-beast-werewolf thing?”

  “Well?” Angie cocked a brow. “What would you call it?”

  “I don’t know?” Jena heaved a deep breath. “He didn’t say. But you make it sound so—”

  “Terrifying?” Angie uttered suddenly.

  Jena hesitated as she took in the concerned expression in her friend’s eyes. “You’re right. I should be terrified, or even repulsed by him. For heaven’s sake, he killed Todd and Sophie. But...” She shook her head. “I’m not.”

  “Whoever he is,” Angie continued, “it’s obvious he wants to control you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen.”

  Jena shook her head again. She couldn’t bear the thought of another person she cared about becoming the creature’s next victim.

  “Angie, I don’t want you getting involved. It would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  “Listen to me, Jena McCain.” Her tone was stern. “Like it or not, I’m in this with you. Besides, I might be able to help you fight this thing.”

  Jena studied her friend’s face with a look of confusion. “But how?”

  “Well...” Angie sounded resigned. “It kind of happened unexpected. Last night...” she hesitated with a slight grin on her face, “Bull and I hooked up.”

  Jena stiffened for a second, and then blurted, “Are you serious?”

  Angie winked and gave Jena a solemn nod.

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Jena asked.

  “Oh, yeah.” Angie batted her brows. “It’s definitely good.”

  “So, are you saying what I think you’re saying? That you got your—”

  “Breedline wolf,” Angie finished Jena’s sentence. “Yes, and that means I can help you fight this thing.”