My Love Eternal
Page 10
His voice was tight and angry when he spoke next. “And then I was changed.”
“I see,” I said, though I did not. His experience had obviously not been the magical one mine was. Without warning, a bright stabbing pain shot through my head, darkness that exploded into a million white-hot stars. My hands clenched against my temples, uselessly trying to block the pain. Images tumbled one after another in my head, a sequence of events that made no sense. I saw a room filled with faces laughing, smiling… an empty art studio… Giovanni’s face much as it was as I knew him, but with his skin like burnt sienna. These were then replaced with the girl who was haunting my dreams and thoughts. I saw her in life, smiling shyly, walking along a wooded path with the sunlight dancing off her mass of butter-coloured hair… then in death, lying in a pool of blood, her throat torn to shreds and her clouded eyes staring accusingly. I stumbled from the intensity of the memory, and the anger accompanying it. Giovanni caught my arm, and pulled me with such force into his embrace that my feet left the ground. “I’m sorry.”
“Who is she?” I whispered against his chest.
“I can’t talk about that here. That is a discussion for later, in private, where there will be no distractions and we will not be interrupted.”
I tensed at the misery in his voice, but said no more.
Soon back at the funeral home, we entered the building like silent apparitions. The place was still unnaturally quiet. There were no indications that anyone alive was in attendance.
In his room our clothes were quickly discarded and we tumbled together onto the bed, our bodies entwined. Soon our passion overtook us, and we made love. Our bodies were still warm from the stolen blood, and where our flesh made contact there was fire. Our rhythm grew more intense and frantic, and I was drawn back to the night before. As Giovanni pulled me to an orgasm, I relived the moment he had taken my life. It seemed that both our lusts— for blood and for each other— were inexplicably tied to one another. It was similar to the way the he could appear as both devil and angel, and I could love both parts of his being equally.
As I lay with him, safe in the darkness, my thoughts ran wild. I went over the things he had shared about his life before becoming a vampire, experiencing the memories so intensely I could smell the salt air, and feel the texture of the paper and paint as he created. I remembered his family’s faces lovingly, as if they were somehow my own. Then, as I tried to remember exactly what had happened to make me change, I found only a black, empty hole where that experience should have been. “Giovanni, how did you change me?”
He shifted slightly. “Do you not remember?”
I closed my eyes and I could see our bodies locked in passion, the room, the pain then nothing until I opened my eyes that evening. “No. It’s very jumbled, and it’s like trying to remember after drinking too much. It simply isn’t there.”
I pulled myself up onto my elbow, looking down onto his face. The wry smile on his lips both irritated and intrigued me. We were terrible, murderous creatures, yet we could love one another with a force greater than anything the world had known before. He kissed his way up my arm and shoulder until we were face to face. “You remember nothing at all?”
I shook my head.
He took my hand and pressed into the tiniest of marks on his wrist. “After I drank you dry, past the point that you could have lived, I opened a wound on my wrist and forced your mouth to it. My blood spilled down your throat, and turned you into a vampire.” As the words were spoken, there was a tingling on the back of my neck, but still the memory did not come.
“Just like that?” I asked, incredulous.
“No, it takes a few hours for the change to be complete. As the vampiric blood fills your veins, your human body slowly dies, cell by cell. You linger between death, and the undead as we are, easy to be lost. Then your body begins to convert into its preternatural beauty, and there is no stopping the transformation.”
“But how does it work?”
“I honestly don’t know, my love. The few other vampires I have encountered over the years know only as much as I do. I can only offer you the simple mechanics of it. I cannot explain the science or biology of it, or comment on the possible spiritual connection. It is something that appears in defiance to both God and nature, and simply should not be, yet here we both are. You were beautiful, like an angel. In those few hours I experienced a lifetime of fear that you would not make it.” Sweetly, he met my lips with his.
“And now we will be together forever.”
“Yes.”
“Where will we go?”
“Where do you want to go is the question, love? We are free to do, and be anything we want. I have money and homes, and contacts from one side of the world to the other.”
“There is one place that I have always dreamt of going.” I said. As the image entered my head, he nodded his understanding.
“I would like to get a few things from my house before we go.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.” His mind felt my hesitation, and I was incapable of stopping the rush of emotions parading through me as I thought of my home, and the friends and family I would be leaving behind. “I know it’s hard to separate yourself from your human existence. It’s to be expected, and it will get easier leaving others behind as the years pass. You have to trust me that it’s much better for your loved ones if you simply disappear. There will be no explanation you can offer that will satisfy, and it will only cause you to leave with your last memories being ones of anger and frustration.”
I knew these words were true. What could I say that would be an acceptable explanation for my departure? My mother knew of my dreams of returning to school, and I had shared my hope of travelling with Shannon and other friends. Even the people I worked with, I was sure, would not understand why I would leave a job where I was paid and treated well, and had a secure future. What did all of that mean, in comparison to all that was at my fingertips? I was going to live forever, and everyone I had ever known would grow old, or become sick or hurt, and ultimately die. I had already given that all up, the moment I gave him my heart. Crossing over into his existence was simply an exercise, when the truth was there had been no turning back since the first time our eyes had met on that quiet rainy night at the hospital.
There were a few hours remaining before the sun would rise, so we made our way out into the night once again. I felt a sharp pang as we stood on the street out side the front door. Giovanni pulled me along and, making an effortless leap, we landed on the roof outside my second-storey window. Not a sound was made, nothing disturbed. It was eerily silent and still, and I felt like a thief breaking into my own home.
He opened the window and slid it wide enough for us to enter. The room was dark, but I could see it was exactly as I left it. I listened to the silence, able to discern two heartbeats from the room across the hall. Shannon must have brought someone home with her, and Giovanni’s voice responded in my head. “Yes. I hear them too.”
I went swiftly across the hall, and without a sound opened her bedroom door. She lay tangled in her sheet, her dark hair spilling across the pillow. Beside her lay a man whom I did not recognise, his face turned away from my position in the doorway. I felt a twinge of sadness for having to leave things that way with Shannon, but like Giovanni had said, it would be easier for everyone to just slip away. I gently closed the door and walked away.
Back in my room, Giovanni had taken down a suitcase from my closet and was filling it with my clothes. He turned when I entered the room, offering the tiniest of smiles. I went through the door to the adjoining bathroom then stopped in bewilderment. What exactly did I need to take? I grabbed my hairbrush, toothbrush and makeup. Looking at myself in the dark mirror I wondered whether vampires even wore makeup.
From my dresser I took my perfume, my diary and the photo of my mother and me. Hastily I grabbed a few CDs, and some pieces of jewellery. Everything else would have to be left behind. After placing the last few th
ings in the suitcase and closing it, I leant into Giovanni’s body and sighed. He kissed the top of my head and waited for my reaction. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. The last time I talked to my mother we had a nice conversation, and I know she is happy with her husband and that he’ll look after her. She will still have my brother and his children.”
“Okay, then.”
With that we returned to the night that would forever be our companion. In his dingy room I curled up in his arms, with my head on his chest and his sweet scent in my lungs. My last conscious thought was: This is really happening! I’m a vampire.
Chapter 9
The next night arrived smoothly, embracing us, its dark Romeo and Juliet, as we lay in our slumber. Before my eyes opened, but as I was well on the way to consciousness, the miscellany of a dream played about my brain. I drew a strange comfort from knowing I was still capable of dreaming. It was a small part of my humanity I had carried into my new existence.
I opened my eyes on the second night of my life with Giovanni to feel the crushing hand of love on my heart upon seeing his face. He looked peaceful and innocent with his dark hair spilling across the pillow and a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I traced a delicate line down his strong jaw before placing a kiss on his cheek. The smile widened and I knew he was aware.
He scooped me into his arms, our still-naked bodies pressed together. I giggled, and playfully tried to pull away. From somewhere overhead footsteps pounded, and a door opened with force. I looked at Giovanni, surprised to see worry on his face. Soon the footsteps approached down the hallway toward our room. A loud, single knock sounded at the door.
I hastily pulled the covers up against my body as Giovanni called out, “Come in.”
A middle-aged man with a wild thatch of grey hair appeared in the doorway, stopping to make eye contact with Giovanni before entering. A silent communication was exchanged between the two men that caused the hair on my arms to rise. He stopped just before the edge of the bed, finally acknowledging me with a quick nod of his head. Instinctively I took Giovanni’s hand in my own.
“They’re here.”
Giovanni tensed. “You’re sure.”
“Yes.”
I didn’t know who “they” were, but I immediately knew the situation was serious. In explaining his arrangement with Gerald Mead, whom I guessed was the man standing before us— he had described his appearance— he had also told me it was very rare for them to be in each other’s presence. In fact, they made every effort to never be together, in case others might see them.
The man’s eyes were wild behind his wire-framed glasses, his hands visibly shaking. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair. His scent was heavily masked by the odour of death— a consequence of his line of work. He caught me eyeing him, and I detected a hint of fear overtop his obvious agitation. “Who’s this?” he asked in a too loud-voice.
Giovanni frowned. “Rachel.” Just my name, no explanation. Gerald nodded stiffly then abruptly turned to leave the room.
Giovanni called out to him as he marched through the open door. “If he shows up say nothing. Pack up the art until you are told where to send it. Anything else I leave behind you destroy. You know the arrangement.”
“Yes.” He left, closing the door behind him.
Giovanni immediately jumped from the bed, grabbing his clothes from the pile where they had fallen the night before. He paced, the eyes of his past watching solemnly from their canvases. I sat frozen, and waited for his instruction. Incoherent thoughts and images floundered from his mind to my own, but I could not make sense of any of it. Yet again, though, her face was among the things that moved through his thoughts. Something dark and ultimately threatening to us was tied to that girl.
Suddenly he turned and came back to the bed. He sat beside me, his profile turned toward where I sat, and slowly lowered his head. Then his thoughts were blocked, though I could feel he was working though something very painful. He was so still it was alarming. I was just reaching out to touch his shoulder when he unexpectedly slammed his fist down on the palm of his other hand. Both hands were clenched when he finally spoke. “I hoped to be able to tell you things slowly, try to ease you into this, but now it has been made impossible. There are things you must know now. Our very existence may depend on it.”
A spasm of terror shot through me. “What are you talking about?”
He shook his still lowered head, unable to meet my eyes. “There is a family, named Desmarais, whom have been tracking me for the past three hundred years. Currently the leader is a man named Bertrande. This family is on a mission to destroy me for something that happened a very long time ago. They are relentless. When one dies, or gets too old to continue, another family member takes over. They have even managed to destroy several other vampires they have become aware of. Sometimes I am able to evade them for decades, sometime only for a few years. They have as many contacts about the world as I do. The last time the Desmarais caught up with me was over seven years ago.”
Someone wanted to harm my Giovanni. At that moment that was all I needed to know. I dressed quickly and grabbed my suitcase, which had remained packed. Giovanni looked wistfully at his paintings and books, but grabbed only a few pieces of clothing, which he threw into a small duffle bag. He then moved aside one of the portraits, revealing a small safe embedded in the stone wall. He quickly unlocked it, and removed several bundles of cash and some papers. These he stuffed into the bag. Then we left as if the building was on fire.
No snow fell, like the previous evening, but the wind was sharp and laced with cold. “I have a truck,” Giovanni said. He pulled me along to a dark corner, where an older, non-descript pickup stood. It was the type of vehicle you would pass on the streets every day, without noticing. The money and the truck were signs that he was ready for whatever might happen. Though I was alarmed at the thought of someone bent on our destruction, I drew comfort from Giovanni’s obvious preparation.
As the truck pulled away from the lot I caught a glimpse of Gerald in an upstairs window. He waved once then disappeared from sight. I would never see the man again, but I would always be thankful for his allegiance.
Soon enough we were on the 401, headed west into the darkness. The shadowy landscape whisked by, yet I was oblivious. My mind raced with questions. What could have happened to make a family pursue Giovanni for centuries? It must be tied to the girl who kept returning to his thoughts, but how? Would we ever know peace, if we were always on the run from people who were dedicated to our demise?
I looked to Giovanni’s strong profile for comfort. If we needed to run to stay safe, then we would run. It was as Giovanni said, we were things that should not exist, and as an extension of this our love was something that should never have been.
I had no idea where we were headed, as we made our way down that highway that stretched for thousands of kilometers, and I didn’t care. As long as we were together, it didn’t matter what physical place we found ourselves in. Our love would be the guiding constant, and that was more than enough.
After driving for hours in silence, I felt Giovanni’s cool fingers touch my face. I turned, and briefly met his eyes, before he turned his attention back to the road. “What are you thinking? Your mind is clouded.”
“Just that I love you.”
“That’s all? After what’s happened tonight you don’t have a thousand questions swirling around in that lovely brain of yours?”
I smiled. “I suppose that you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
His lips pursed, and his brow wrinkled. Then she became another presence in the car with us, and I knew he was ready to share the story. “The girl you keep seeing in your mind— she’s the reason for this. Though I don’t mean to place blame on her, for if anyone was ever innocent, she was. I apologise, I’m not explaining this very well, but this is something I have been forcing myself to not think about for too long now.”
“I had some romantic idea in my head that I would sweep her off her feet and we would be married. It was ridiculous, of course. My family would never have allowed it, not even for love. She was a servant girl, someone my mother would have deemed too common for me, and she was very young and innocent, about sixteen years old. Though, at that time, it was an age when many girls married and started their families.
“I started following her home from work. She would leave once the kitchen was cleaned after the evening meal, and would walk the several miles to her family home. After the first few times I think she knew I was there, but she never acknowledged me. She only took longer routes to get home, and paused more frequently. Sometimes she stopped at the same spot where there was a large flat rock, and she would take out some scraps of paper from her pocket and she would write. I was a bit surprised. Many of the working class, and especially women, did not even know how to read back then, much less write. She looked angelic sitting there, with the sunlight shining on her blond hair. I would often find myself holding my breath as I enjoyed her beauty from my hiding place. It was perfectly ridiculous for someone of my age and status to have been acting that way, but love can make one do foolish things.
“One evening after she had finished writing, she left a piece of paper on the rock. As she made her way from the rock, she briefly looked back toward the spot where I was hiding, and let out a small giggle. I waited a few moments then I went to see what it was that she left behind. I found a single sheet of paper, addressed to me, and on it was poem that she had written. I stood there, reading it over and over again, then I just sat on the rock and held the paper in my hands.”