My Love Eternal

by Liz Strange

  Stopping just short of touching him, I was afraid to move in case he was a figment of my imagination. I was petrified he wasn’t real, or that any mistake on my part would dissolve him from my life completely. Then he reached for my hand and pulled me into his embrace. I pressed my ear against his chest, which was as silent as the night around us.

  Eventually he stepped back, still holding me, and looked into my face with a troubled expression. “Did you mean it?”

  I nodded.

  He made a sad, whistling sound, suddenly unable to meet my eyes then hugged me tightly and pressed his lips to the top of my head. “I don’t want this to be a mistake for you. I didn’t have a choice about it myself, and though I have come to terms with who I— What I am, I need this to be something that you choose. There is more to my story than what you have deduced so far. There is much more.”

  “I’m willing to accept whatever the truth is.”

  “I don’t know that you can. I know you see the things I see, and sometimes are able to absorb my feelings, but you don’t really know what’s at stake. You don’t know about my past… or how I came to be like I am now.” As the words left his lips, I saw a hazy memory of my love, and a tall, blond man in a shabby, dim room. Just as I was about to see the other man’s face, his image was ripped from my mind. The memory of the man invoked fury and bitterness.

  “It doesn’t matter where you’ve come from, or what you are. You know I’ve seen the dark things you do, and still I’m here.”

  “Yes, that’s true. You should be afraid to be alone with me, yet here you are. Sometime I would like to share my past with you. It’s been a long time since I have had anyone to talk to, since I’ve been close to someone I would want to share my stories with.”

  “We have years to share ourselves with each other.”

  “I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”

  His mouth was against my face, and I smiled at the euphoria that his touch brought to me. As I lingered in that warm cocoon I saw the face of the strange girl again, her blond hair splayed around her, her mouth open in a soundless scream. I clutched myself tighter to his chest, squeezing my eyes shut against the image. When it cleared I looked back up into his face, and was pleased to find his smile had returned. “I want to go with you. I want to know.”

  “If you come with me I will always protect you, I will never hurt you.”

  “I believe you.”

  Then as the wind kicked up around us in the empty field, and the snowflakes danced through the air, I was pulled more tightly into his embrace. His movements were too fast to make sense of the space around me. There was only the rushing darkness and the snow. When we finally stopped, my chest ached and my head spun. I didn’t have any sense of how far we’d gone, or how much time had passed.

  We stopped outside a vaguely familiar building, in an area with no outside light. The ground under our feet felt like concrete. I was led, my hand in his, to a door all but hidden in the building’s exterior, barely tall enough to allow him to enter without ducking his head. A strange sense of deja vu overcame me. It was a place I knew, yet didn’t. A narrow flight of stairs led directly down from the doorway into a long, damp hallway. The end curved sharply, making it impossible to see where the passage ended.

  We made our way along, past the curve to the last door in the hallway. The walls were limestone— a common construction element in many of the old buildings in town. I ran my hand along the cold, rough surface as we walked, tingles of anticipation caressing my skin.

  He pulled a key from his pocket with an easy grace, opened the door, and whisked us inside. The room was small, dimly lit by a single lamp on a table across from the door. A bed held a tangle of sheets, and shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls. The floor was stone, like the walls. The only small window had been boarded up.

  Many pieces of art were displayed about the room, some framed, others loose, both large and small. Some of the pictures had been painted, other sketched in pencil or charcoal, and most were portraits. I move closer to examine a series of paintings lined up against the wall under the window. These depicted many faces I didn’t know, both men and women, of all ages. Here I found the face of the girl I kept seeing flashes of in my mind. Her image, as captured on the paper, showed her youthful beauty and her joy. It was a far cry from the face of terror I had been having a recurring glimpse of.

  Last in the series, this one executed without colour, was a perfect representation of me. I turned to him in surprise, finding his posture stiff and his expression unreadable. I covered my face with my hands, feeling both in awe and somewhat embarrassed. Then I leant down and traced my fingers along the lines of my face in the portrait. “You did these?”

  “Yes. I was an artist once. A long time ago.”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” He settled himself on the edge of the bed. “I started that one of you right after I saw you at the hospital. One of the benefits of being such as I am is having a photographic memory, but even if that were not true I would never have been able to forget your face.”

  I turned, so swelled with pride and desire I thought I would burst. I brought myself into his arms and crushed my lips down onto his. He kissed me back greedily, his tongue probing my mouth. His teeth pressed against my lip, making my desire even more urgent. When he pulled back, a dark, predatory look on his face was quickly replaced with a smile. “This is where I live.”

  “Alone?” It seemed there was much more to the building than this hallway, and single room, and there was a definite weird smell.

  A peculiar, almost amused looked flickered across his face. “Not exactly.” A soft echoing quality to our conversation made the building seem enormous and hollow.

  Roughly, I was pulled onto the bed. His eyes were wild, displaying a fierceness I had never experienced before. His silken lips drew back in a snarl, exposing his fangs. His tongue snaked out, yet it was an intimidating gesture instead of a seductive one. He rolled us over, pinning me under his body, holding my shoulders in a vice-like grip. In that instant his beauty was gone, and he unmasked the beast living beneath his exquisite facade. I saw then what the terrified people in my visions saw. I understood that nameless girl’s terror, and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of my own.

  My shoulders screaming with pain, I thought for sure his grip would pulverise them. An awful whimpering sounded in my ears, and belatedly I realised the sound was mine. He must have seen something in my face that affected him, because just a suddenly as he gripped me, he released me. Giovanni rolled over onto his back beside me on the bed, and took my hand. His touch was cool and firm. My heart was racing, and I felt dizzy. My shoulders throbbed like a second heartbeat.

  Interspersed with my own thoughts were memories of another time, and people I didn’t know. A young, dark-haired boy ran and laughed with a group of other dark-haired children. Then I saw a church and an expanse of crystal-blue water. Then, this same group of people appeared again, matured to adults. Then her face, again and again, as the terror ravaged her features. Each time it came, it rocked through my senses then was quickly overshadowed by other, more pleasant scenes.

  Finally I dared to turn my head to face him. He lay completely still. I tried to reach out with my mind, but something blocked our connection. It was like fighting against granite. I squeezed his hand that still gripped mine, and waited for a response. His chest was still, without the rise and fall of human breathing, just like I knew there was no heartbeat. I lay my head against the side of his body and waited.

  When he spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. “I told you I would explain who I am, and where I came from. My full name is Giovanni Alejandro Ruiz y Castillo, though I have not used that identity in many years.” He paused. “I have been alone for so very long. After I was changed I thought any chance for love and companionship had died with my humanity. I never imagined experiencing what I am right now could ever happen. Early on I entertained the t
hought of having someone to exist with, and I have even tried to make myself a companion, with disastrous results. I never imagined I would have the chance to love again.” I experienced a flash of a small boy, a huge grin on his golden-skinned face.

  I took a deep breath, and gathered my last vestige of courage. It was my chance to speak, and I could not screw it up like I did in the park. I chose my words carefully. “I am glad to finally have a name for you. It’s one of the most beautiful names I have ever heard.” The words tumbled out of my mouth too quickly, and I took a breath to slow myself. He turned his face to mine, so the tips of our noses brushed. Keep it cool, Rachel. I belatedly realised he might have caught that. Great. “I too had lost my belief in finding someone who could touch that part of myself I keep hidden from the world. I’ve only had one real relationship in my life, and it ended badly. I’ve just never found any one who clicked with me, accepted me for who I am. I’ve been dreaming of you since the first night we met, and existing only ‘til the next time we were together. The brief moments we have been together have been the most exciting of my life. There is an undeniable connection between us. Whoever you are, or whatever you are doesn’t matter, because something bigger than both of us has brought us together.” I hoped that came out the way I meant it to.

  When I finished he didn’t speak. We were silent, bodies touching, feeling the enormity of that moment. The minutes ticked by agonisingly. The wall to his thoughts was still up, and it was unbearable not to know what he thinking or feeling. His face was stone. What did I do wrong this time?

  Then the statue came to life. The blank expression broke and a timid smile slid across his lips. The memories long locked away within his mind burst forth, and I was assaulted with images. I felt flushed with his love, a physiological reaction to an emotional release. “I am a vampire,” he said simply.

  When those words were finally said aloud, words to something I already knew in my heart, I felt such a wave of relief. I rolled away as a hysterical, maniacal laughter erupted from my body. I laughed like I never had in my life, until tears were streaming down my face. He watched me, never trying to stop me or touch me in any way. His secret was finally affirmed, and I had never been happier or surer of anything in my life.

  When my laughing finally turned to real tears I threw myself into his waiting arms, and kissed him all over his face and neck. His skin was cool and unnaturally firm under the heat of my lips. “I know, I know.”

  Chapter 7

  Transformation

  Somewhere in an unseen area of the building a clock ticked. My oddly sensitive ears could hear it above the whisper of my breathing. It was the only sound in the otherwise tomb-like quiet. Where was the clock? What people would be looking onto its face for the time? Were there other people in the building, and did they know we were there?

  How could Giovanni have a set-up like this without anyone being the wiser? Someone must know he was there, and better still must be aware of what he was. There had to be someone offering him protection, or anonymity, but in exchange for what?

  The cold night passed quietly, turning into a day withheld from our sight. I gained an odd comfort in that. I imagined it was the absorption of Giovanni’s feelings, but they felt as comforting as my own. I drifted off into an easy and heavy sleep in his bed, and I knew I was safe with him, tucked away from the rest of the world. Everything for me changed in the blink of an eye, and for the first time in my life I felt sure about what I was doing. I found myself standing at the threshold of eternity, and knew with unshakable faith I could make the leap.

  I told Giovanni I loved him, and with every fibre of my being I meant it. I knew that to keep that love I would kill, and I also knew that killing was a certainty in choosing that life. I understood giving myself to him meant the loss of everything else. I knew we would be feared, and it would mean a lifetime of secrecy. I don’t think I ever gave much thought to spiritual matters up until that point, but if I did have a soul, I was most certainly about to forsake it for a lifetime with him. And, somehow, that was okay with me. I was firm in my belief that everything in my life led me to that point, and to Giovanni. That was the only path for me.

  Giovanni hadn’t said a word in hours, even since I opened my eyes. There were so many things I wanted to ask, but I was unnerved by his silence. I thought it best to wait until he spoke first. I tensed at the thought of his voice, the sound of which elicited such a powerful and intimate reaction from me. His voice scurried through my mind, and whispered over my skin. Would I still feel the same way after I changed? Would he affect me as he did now?

  I turned my attention to my surroundings. The room was certainly nothing to write home about, and it held the quietness of death. To my human body the air was uncomfortably cold and damp, the air slightly bitter and acrid. The depth of the stillness was unsettling. The faces appearing around the room, drawn with Giovanni’s talented hand, didn’t seem to take away from the emptiness. They appeared to be witnessing us, waiting for blood to be shed.

  I turned to look at Giovanni’s profile in the dimness, finding his eyes closed, but knowing he was awake, if that was the word for it. His ancestry was almost undetectable, though his slight accent hinted at European origins. His face was neither young nor old. Only his eyes could betray the truth. Once past their beauty and intensity, one could find the ghosts of too many years of pain and loneliness.

  His eyes opened suddenly, as if he felt me watching him. More likely he was overwhelmed by the feelings and questions throwing themselves about in my mind. He turned slightly, tendrils of electricity snaking up my arm where it brushed his. He smiled, and my worries drained away. It was enough that we were together, and that made me the luckiest woman in the world.

  My gaze roamed around the room once more, tracing the blocks making up the walls until my curiosity got the better of me. “Where are we?”

  His smile grew even wider, and a small laugh escaped his lips. “Do you really want to know?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He paused, obviously enjoying keeping me in suspense. “We are in the basement of a funeral home.”

  It was an ideal place to hide. It wasn’t the sort of building anyone would enter accidentally, or would even have business with except on a rare occasion. I had only ever been to one funeral in my life. “That’s very clever, actually.”

  “It does make a lot of sense, considering.”

  “I would never have known, and I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure it out.”

  “I don’t think anyone would have guessed it unless they’d been here before. It’s not too often that the average person would find themselves in similar surroundings.”

  “Well, you keep telling me I’m not your average person.”

  “And you are not, but I do not think it’s been your habit to crawl around funeral homes at night, has it?”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Does it bother you?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Not at all.”

  I raised myself up on my elbow. “It’s an okay room, I guess. Just not a lot of amenities.”

  “Sometimes I prefer to live a Spartan-type life, other times I live like a king. It depends on the circumstances and how long I plan on staying. I can never stay in one place for too long, not more than five or ten years anyway.” He paused, lost in thought. “I’m safe here, and that’s what’s important.”

  “So how does this work? I mean, someone must know that you’re here, right? You couldn’t run the risk of being discovered accidentally.”

  “I have an arrangement here. The director looks out for me, since his family has owned this place for many generations, right back to Kingston’s origins. In return, the family is rewarded quite handsomely. It’s an arrangement that works for both sides.”

  “Have you been here long?”

  “Not long this time, though I have been to this city before. I have kn
own a member of this family from various generations. The ones I don’t meet are at least privy to my existence. Whether I use the space or not, I always accommodate the family. That way I always have a safe place to go when I’m at this end of the country.”

  His words intrigued me. I had grown up in Kingston, and had the usual history lessons, trips to city hall, and more, but I had never imagined I could meet someone who had actually experienced the town in another time. “What brought you here in the first place?”

  “I had been in the United States for some time, having come over from Europe during one of the many mass exiles to the ‘new colonies.’ I was quite tired of the endless wars, and clashing ideals, and Canada was then a very powerful territory. This city was the primary community of South-eastern Upper Canada, as it was called in that time. Before it became the first capital of Canada there was a real bustle of activity. I slipped in, and made a business deal with a young man to build the city a funeral home. Since then I have had a permanent retreat.”

  I sighed, trying to imagine the city back then. It was true that Fort Henry, and many of the fortified towers still stood. Even many of the homes, and buildings in the downtown core were original to the early mid-1800s. It was something I had never given much thought to before, having lived here my whole life. Those realisations took me into entirely uncharted territory, imagining all the sights Giovanni must have seen. I felt so close to him, and yet so entirely removed from whom he was.

  I nuzzled myself closer, bringing my arm over to embrace him, when he held up his hand to stop me. His expression was so pained hot tears sprung to my eyes. His emotions were a knife to my heart. The room rippled with waves of sorrow, a drowning effect in the silence. I hoped he hadn’t taken my silence for hesitation, because there was none now.

  There was darkness in his eyes when he spoke. “I know that this must be overwhelming. I have been catching glimpses of your thoughts, and have been flooded by your feelings, but the things in your head are moving so fast even I am having trouble keeping up. I have to ask you, Rachel, are you having doubts about being with me?” His voice was so low I held my breath to hear him. “Do you really want to commit yourself to this kind of existence?”