My Love Eternal

by Liz Strange

  I read everything I could get my hands on, and visited every museum, historical site, theatre and event available. Sometimes it meant sneaking in after regular hours, and sometimes Giovanni managed to bribe someone to allow us private access. His connections allowed me to see and touch things no regular patron would ever be able to. The only thanks he ever needed were my obvious delight and awe.

  My favourite times were when we simply wandered the streets long after the inhabitants retired for the night. The few souls we did encounter were most often up to no good— thieves, prostitutes and drunks. Their disappearances never caused any concern. I often imagined that the towns were ours, and we were their immortal caretakers. I held such respect for a civilisation that had survived for millennia, always leading the way in art, science and technological advancement.

  In all the previous places we had stayed I never had the chance to truly enjoy myself. Everywhere else had been temporary, as though we were just biding our time. It seemed pointless to seek out any kind of connection to a place we might flee from at any given moment. Here, was more permanence, and from that the luxury of connection. Though we would always be somewhat on the outside, I felt some semblance of belonging and acceptance. We were generous patrons, and supporters of local people and events, and for that we were given respect for our private way of life.

  Through our travels, I learnt that Giovanni was fluent in many languages. He was respectful and knowledgeable about many native customs and beliefs, all throughout Asia, Europe and South America. We hadn’t yet made it to Africa, though I hoped that one day we would. The more I learnt about his nature and views, the more deeply I loved him.

  The house we now called our home had once been a magnificent villa overlooking the blue-green sea. Its history traced its way beyond the country’s official independence, but the years had been kind to it. The building was situated on a small mountainside, with a gentle rise offering protection from the wear of water and salt. Town was accessible by a private road that cut through the white rock. Small, scrubby trees shot up here and there, though for the most part there was not enough soil to support foliage. The house itself was of moderate size, having evolved to its present state from various additions over the years. The outside was stucco, as were most residential structures in the area, with a tiled roof. An enormous brick wall had been erected about the property, offering both protection and privacy.

  Inside its gates the previous owners put in tremendous effort and expense to construct elaborate gardens and outside living areas. The inner walls of the fence were snaked with native vines, flowers, plants and fruit-bearing trees that filled the landscape. One high terrace provided a beautiful view of the sea below. It was a magical place.

  On this night, like many others before it, we were lying on out backs on the gentle slope of sand, which even in the darkness was clean and white. The sky was brilliant with stars. Giovanni gently held my hand in his, his touch as comforting as always. The moon was bright and filled the area with a shimmery illumination, making the stretch of beach dance with shadows. My mind was open to the possibilities that the night held for the two of us.

  Giovanni’s thoughts were fuzzy and far away. It seemed the longer I was a vampire, and the stronger I became, the more strain it put on my ability to see his thoughts. I wasn’t completely out of the loop, but the images in his mind didn’t simply jump from him to me as they seemed to have before the change, and soon after. It was more of me being empathetic to his feelings and his moods, than anything else. If I concentrated, I could break in, and when there was a situation with heightened emotion, either good or bad, it was easier to slip inside. With humans it was much easier to peek inside their minds. With vampires it could be a struggle.

  Off in the distance I could hear the ships in the small harbour not ten miles from our home. Even in the night there always seemed to be activity in that part of town. I rolled over onto my stomach, our house barely visible from our position on the beach. The trail down from the house twisted like a snake, and wouldn’t be easy to follow even in the light of day. I rested my chin on his shoulder, and the corner of his lips turned up in a smile. “What are you thinking about?”

  He turned his head slightly. “That I love you, and that this is one of those perfect moments, where we can just be happy. These are the times I want to hang onto, to have to remember when things are tough.” Though the words were positive and his tone soft, I knew there was a dark undercurrent to their meaning. There would always be dark times for us, a bruise that never healed in the flesh of our love for one another. It was a constant threat that pulled at the back of my mind, and forced me to cherish the time we had together.

  I planted a soft kiss on his chin. “I love you too, I love this place and the bit of peace we’ve found here.”

  “You told me once that you have always wanted to come here, that you even dreamt about it as a child. Is it everything that you hoped it would be?”

  “Yes,” I answered honestly, and it was much more than I could have ever imagined, vibrant with history and beauty. “It’s even better to be here with you, and know that you can appreciate this place as much as I can.”

  We settled back into a comfortable moment, without the need for words. The sound of the waters lapping at the shore was soothing. I played with his hair and let my mind wander. When times were still like that, and we were locked in our intimate connections, my brain swam with questions of the past and dreams for the future. I would go over all that Giovanni shared about himself and his life before we met. Although we had talked for hours about his past, and he never held back from me anything that I asked, I knew there was still so much more to discover. Without his past we would not have our present, and there would never be a future.

  A thought suddenly popped into my mind. “How old were you when you changed?”

  “Have I never told you? That seems strange.”

  I pulled myself up slightly and shook my head.

  “I was twenty-two years old when he found me, just months short of completing my training. In the fall of that year I would have been off to apprentice with a painter in Rome.”

  “You have one of those faces that’s very hard to judge for age. I guess that through the years you’ve had to appear both younger and older than you are, if that makes sense, because how can someone appear their age when they’re actually hundreds of years old?”

  “Just numbers. Humans place so much significance on numbers and how they gauge time, as though that has a direct effect on the outcome of any specific stage of their life, or dictates the extent to which they can enjoy it.”

  “This coming from a man who could for all intensive purposes live forever.” I kept a trace of teasing in my voice.

  “Touche.” Then he jumped to his feet, snatching me up to his side in one fluid movement. “Enough about this. Let’s hunt.”

  Then we raced off into the darkness, the unsuspecting world at our mercy. I experienced a deep, unparalleled moment of insight into my lover’s mind from that conversation on the beach, more so from the things remaining unsaid. I saw the true nature of his being that night. He was man who not only accepted who he was, but one who embraced his place in the world. Human being are constantly looking back, doubting, regretting and wanting what they don’t have. As vampires we had much simpler needs and views. From me, Giovanni gained insight into his own psyche. He was not simply a vampire, but still a man. He was not solely defined by what he needed to continue his existence, but by what he gave to his life. By allowing himself to receive my love, he became a fuller, more complete version of himself.

  We raced up the hillside, past the villa and the town that had become our home. The lights from the houses where our neighbours rested in blissful ignorance twinkled in silent repose. We would not feed on the people who accepted us, albeit without knowing our secret. It would not only be cruel to take from people who had been nothing but amenable to us, it would be too dangerous. This was not a larg
e town, and too many unexplained deaths or disappearances would ultimately attract attention. From attention came the need for answers and eventually justice.

  From the window of the library in our home, we had a hazy view of the mountains edging our adopted country’s border with its northern neighbours. It was effortless for us to climb the steep range, and cover the vast distance no human could have managed without the benefit of our unnatural speed. We tried to branch out, never going to the same place twice within a space of several months. Not only was it logical to our safety, but also in a strange way it offered us the chance to see many different places and people. Sometimes we went on foot, other times by car, depending on the destination. Often, after feeding, we would explore the nearest town, specifically any historical sites, museums, or other places of interest.

  I was on a personal quest for knowledge of all kinds. I was exploring all aspects of humanity and its progressive development. In most historical records, artistic works and religious movements a common theme occurred, and one not dissimilar to our current condition. There was a persistent and unwavering need to understand our origins, and the purpose for our existence. Humanity, like the creatures of the night, wanted answers, and were constantly looking and evaluating all information they gathered.

  Right then and there was only one quest: blood. That particular night we happened upon a group of very intoxicated men coming home through a dark forested trail. From what I could discern from the jumbled, drunken thoughts stumbling through their minds, they were headed home from a night of drinking after work. A group of factory workers, they worked hard, twelve-hour shifts, and needed some way to unwind before they returned to their girlfriends, wives and families. I fleetingly thought of those waiting at home for their men who would not return to them. I quickly pushed that thought aside, concentrating on the events about to unfold.

  Silently we swooped in on the unsuspecting men. To them it must have seemed as if the darkness itself came alive, surrounding them like cornered animals. I snatched the first one I encountered by the hair, snapping his spine with one quick, lethal thrust of my hand. His face had barely enough time to register his unquestionable shock, before fear immobilised his body, and my mouth was at his naked throat. I drained him quickly, as did Giovanni with the one he caught.

  Around us the previously quiet night was frantic with the shouts of anger and surprise, and screams of terror. Two men instinctively bolted in a vain attempt to save their lives, while one stayed behind to attempt to fend off the monsters attacking his friends. I felt the man at my back, heavy hands pawing at the fabric of my dress. His movements annoyed me more than troubled me. I knew, as he did not, that his death was certain.

  The first man’s body dropped from my grip and landed with an almost inaudible thud to the damp ground. I whirled around, my face smeared with his friend’s blood. He froze, eyes locked with mine, making a choked mewling sound, though I doubted he was aware of it. A thick man, arms heavily muscled from years of manual labour, his eyes were dark. Were he not so completely terrified of what stood before him, I imagined his eyes would have a hard, mean look to them. In my mind I heard his jumbled argument with himself that he could not be seeing what he was. I smiled, which only frightened him more.

  I took my time with that one, playing my sick game of cat and mouse. This one I wanted to dominate and torture. I wanted to hear his heart thundering in fear, hear his blood blasting through his veins. I wanted to smell his perspiration as his body reacted to the surge of adrenaline that his petrified brain released. I wanted to chase him, and challenge myself in his taking.

  “Run,” I snarled.

  As the man took off into the night, I saw that Giovanni had already ravaged two of the remaining three men. The last, like my fleeing prey, had taken flight. Giovanni kissed me hard on the mouth, the blood of our kills mingling in our mouths. Then, as if he had never been there at all, he was gone. My sensitive ears heard the sounds of the man he was pursuing crashing through the trees. I turned my attention to my own chase, concentrating until I caught the sound of a heartbeat pounding like thunder, and distantly the hysterical voice of a man calling for help. We were still a few miles from the edge of the nearest town. I did not worry about him being heard.

  My legs moved so quickly it was like flying. The wind whipped through my hair, and I easily ducked and jumped through the brush. I heard a crash and the snapping of branches to the left of my current course. I veered off, making a wide arc, eventually ending up in front of where the man was entangled in a mass of thorny underbrush. While trying to untangle himself, he thrashed wildly, doing himself more harm than good. I was still quite a distance away, but my preternatural sight allowed me to see the spectacle quite clearly. When he finally freed himself, and began to run again, I made my move.

  I let him come right to me, oblivious of my presence. He took brief, furtive glances over his shoulder, trying to catch sight of me. Then he stopped, not three feet from where I stood, his breath heaving. Silently, I stepped in behind him. I gently tapped his shoulder, and the man whirled around in shock. The look on his face couldn’t have been more comical or petrified. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and I knew that this was the type of man who hadn’t cried since he was a young boy. He raised his hands as if to ward me off. “No, no, no, please… no, don’t… ”

  I took him into my deadly embrace, my teeth deep into his flesh as the words continued to sputter out then abruptly stop. His heart pumped the warm liquid into my mouth, and even though I had already fed, I drank greedily. It was almost a sexual release, one I felt with both my libido and my psyche. His last thoughts were of a woman, pretty in a tired, washed-out way, and of being sorry for treating her the way that he had. Soon the force of the blood flow slowed then trickled to nothing. I released the man and his body fell to a seated position, his back pressed up against a narrow tree. His hands rested limply at his side, but his sightless eyes were still wide.

  I felt Giovanni’s approach in my mind before I heard him. Softly he took my hand, and pulled me into his arms. We were both warm with our stolen blood, a powerful heat where our skin touched. He kissed my mouth, my throat, and I wrapped my powerful arms around him, feeling his maleness press into my body. I was just about to give in, and let him take me there on the forest floor when a whispery sensation came over me. His head snapped back, his body tight with tension. “One’s not dead.”

  We raced back through the forest, to the initial site of our encounter. “He’s one of yours,” I said, and Giovanni just nodded. He was watching the man with an intense fascination. His heartbeat was sluggish. He lay on the cold earth, his body half underneath his dead companion. His face was even whiter than ours, visible as a sickly glow in the blackness of the night. He twitched, with eyes rolled back in his head. The man’s mind was strangely blank, as though his pain and fear wiped it clear. He must have known, on some level as least though, that he was dying. Whether it was right then, or an hour later, he had simply lost too much blood to survive.

  Giovanni leant down and snatched him up by the collar of his shirt. In one swift movement he twisted the man’s head backward, breaking his neck. “He’s dead now.”

  “I’ll get the other three and meet you back here.” I returned to the site of my last kill and retrieved the man’s body. Not too far away I found the ravaged corpses of Giovanni’s attack, and without effort hefted the two men over my shoulder. The third I tucked under my arm. Then I returned to where Giovanni waited.

  We transported the bodies deeper into the forest, far from any trail or evidence of use. We quickly made a shallow grave and dumped all five into the hole. We covered them with dirt and over that some leaves and other debris. By the time anyone found them, if they were found at all, they would be so decomposed it would be difficult to determine how they had died. Since the skin was the first to go as the body rotted, the bite marks would be indistinguishable, and since I had better control of myself when feeding, the damage
I left was minimal, almost unnoticeable.

  We travelled back to the outskirts of our town, our unnatural speed propelling us ahead faster than would have been visible to any person whose path we may have crossed. When the first houses came into view, Giovanni slowed, taking my hand in his. His dark hair was tangled and gorgeous. I put my other hand to it, its texture soft under my small hand. We took our time heading back to the beach, strolling leisurely through the town. We passed a few others, though the streets were all but deserted at that late hour. I could smell the salt, and hear the call of the waters lapping on the shore. We smiled at those we passed. I’m sure we appeared as the image we wanted to project— as a young couple in love simply enjoying each other’s company.

  Soon we found ourselves at the beach. I tugged at his hand and took off running. He laughed, the soft peals of sound trailing behind me as I ran. The air was much heavier as we approached the water’s edge. The sea appeared as a shimmering black pool, not the blue-green of the sea during daylight. For us the sea was always black, the only way to see it otherwise was to enjoy its representation in art or in movies. I didn’t mind the blackness because the water always felt the same. It was cool and refreshing, a way to wash away all of our sins, of which there were many.

  Just before I touched the water I stopped and took off my heavy boots. I dropped them carelessly to the ground, and scrunched my toes in the wet sand. The feeling of the sand against my skin never failed to please me. I felt an unexplainable connection to the water, and to the rain. It gave me clarity, and some feeling of redemption, as though stepping into its depths could cleanse me like nothing else could.