My Love Eternal

by Liz Strange

  Outside, the moon was large and silver. I noticed details I had missed on our approach earlier. Several large, fearsome gargoyles kept watch over the property from their perch along the house’s roof. Impeccably kept gardens wrapped around the structure from the front yard to the back. I touched my hand to the cold grey stone making up the exterior of the house, brushing climbing vines that all but covered the back walls. It was imposing and exquisite. I loved it immediately. I had to admit— however cliche it might be for a vampire— that I had a little bit of the Gothic, Addams Family-type style in me.

  Eli ran ahead toward the stables and called out to me. I rushed down the staggered series of stone staircases to the backyard, the night as quiet as I had ever known it to be. I joined him at the open door of the stables, where he was peering in with awe. It was a beautiful space and obviously recently renovated. It was large enough to hold fifteen horses from the look of it, and I knew that if Eli wished it, Giovanni would fill every stall. He grabbed my hand suddenly and pulled me off in another direction.

  We discovered a pool with cabana, a tennis court, a hedge maze dotted with exquisite and ancient statues, a large pond, woods and fields for days. With a tingle at my back, Giovanni appeared, wrapping his strong arms around my waist.

  “This is amazing,” I said.

  “Nearly three hundred acres, much like any of the nearby properties… Private enough to keep away prying eyes, yet only a twenty-minute drive from the nearest town. It’s the best of both worlds here.”

  We both watched as Eli ran, and twirled about the wide-open lawns. Our last home had been wonderful, and would always hold a special place in my heart, but the house in England was perfect for us. “Eli is obviously happy here.”

  “I knew from the first photographs the realtor sent me this was the place. It has everything we need, and I must confess that I’ve missed England.”

  “This is the perfect place to raise a child.”

  “And the Desmarais will not be looking for a family, so that works to our advantage.”

  I wished he hadn’t brought them up in such a perfect moment, but he was right. “Yes. It’s going to wonderful here.”

  “Maybe you could go back to school here. I have done some research and there are excellent evening courses available at the nearby university. Maybe I can start to paint again, or be involved in the arts somehow.”

  I turned to him. “That sounds wonderful!”

  His lips just touched mine when Eli raced up. “When are we getting a horse? When? Soon?”

  Giovanni scooped the boy into his arms and twirled him around. They both laughed, so easy and natural with one another. He gently dropped him back to his feet, and Eli threw his arms about his waist. “We can start looking tomorrow, but remember that it’s very serious business purchasing a horse. There has to be a good fit between the animal and owner. I’ll make arrangements to take you out to view some for sale and we’ll go from there, all right?”

  “Okay,” he chirped.

  We wandered about the property then inside the house again for many hours until Eli finally showed signs of sleepiness. We let him choose the room he wanted, which turned out to be the one looking directly onto the stables, before tucking him into bed. I read him a chapter of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. It was our habit to read each night before Eli went to sleep, and I tried to expose him to the classics. When finished, I placed the book on the bedside table and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He responded by throwing his arms around my neck.

  “I love you,” he whispered fiercely in my ear.

  “Right back at you.” I waited until he lay his head down again and closed his eyes. Then I was out of the room, with the door closed, in the blink of an eye.

  As I made my way down the hall, I heard someone playing the piano. I vaguely remembered seeing one in the corner of one of the main floor rooms. I followed the sound of the music to a medium-sized, wood-panelled sitting room. Giovanni sat at the piano playing a light, easy number from at least a century before I was born. He smiled as I entered, but continued playing. I lowered myself onto an antique loveseat, which was covered with an overpowering floral pattern. I closed my eyes, allowing the music to relax me. Then, in almost the same instant the music stopped, Giovanni was at my side.

  “I didn’t know you could play the piano.”

  “I haven’t played in a hundred years, and we’ve never lived somewhere that had a piano until now.”

  He smiled devilishly, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m always keeping you on your toes.” Then with elaborate flourish, he extended his hand to me, which I obligingly took. He pulled me up into his arms, and whirled me out into the hallways, where we danced and laughed. It was the perfect beginning.

  Our time in England began as a clean slate, and we easily settled into a quiet yet fulfilling existence. We were all able to find happiness there, in our own individual ways. Giovanni returned to his art, Eli was given the means and the support to pursue whatever interested him, gathering an enviable education in the process, and I started to write in earnest. More importantly, we became a real family.

  We were, of course, isolated from many of the “normal” aspects of life because of our daytime restrictions and our need for secrecy, but we found a way to make it all work. Eli’s schedule was adjusted as he got older, so he began his day at noon and ended around midnight, or in the early morning hours. That way he had a chance to participate in some activities that only took place during the daylight hours, and had the opportunity for regular socialisation and interaction with children of the same age.

  We hired a man named Jacob McManus to be the general household manager, and a part of his duties was to chauffer Eli to his activities when we “were not available.” A retired military man, he had never married and had no children, and he fit into our structured and covert lifestyle perfectly. He never asked questions, followed instructions to the tee and was what some would refer to as a straight arrow. I never worried for Eli’s safety, and knew I didn’t need to worry about the details because they would always be taken care of.

  Because of our strange lifestyle and the hours we kept, I believe the three of us developed relationships with each other that were more dependent and intimate than what would have been under other circumstances. This was especially true of Eli and me. We spent almost every evening together, reading, researching, or watching movies and documentaries. Eli, I discovered, shared my passion for knowledge. We both read voraciously and there wasn’t a subject we hadn’t at least superficially touched on in our studies.

  During those hours we spent together Giovanni often went to the guest house that had been converted into an art studio to paint, or he conducted business. No matter how wonderful and safe our life seemed there, Giovanni was always conscious of making sure we had opportunities for a quick escape, and that generous finances were available.

  In addition to the studies Eli and I undertook together, we hired him the best tutors money could buy. In the afternoons he studied mathematics, sciences, social sciences, politics, and learnt several languages, becoming fluent in French, Spanish, German, Mandarin and Japanese, as well as private piano and equestrian training. We also made sure to enrol him in activities where he would interact with the children of England’s elite. He played football in a prestigious league and had both weapons and defensive training, as well as etiquette. He was invited to many parties and events, accompanied by his “assistant” Jacob during the day, and either Giovanni or I in the evening.

  We integrated ourselves into society by the subtle hint that Giovanni was some type of European royalty, I, his bride and Eli, our charge. We became involved in the local arts, making extremely generous donations to one of the largest galleries in the country. Giovanni even donated some artwork of a “distant relative,” which was enthusiastically received by both critics and the public alike. We attended just enough events to be accepted, but no
t enough to allow anyone to get too close. It seemed that the wealthy were allowed a certain amount of eccentricity.

  So the days and nights passed. I spent my early evening with Eli, learning and enjoying my part of helping him develop into an incredibly intelligent, kind and capable young man, and the remainder of the dark hours as Giovanni’s muse, lover and companion. I could not imagine anything more perfect than what we established during that time.

  Before I knew it I was no longer spending my evening with a gangly, eager boy, but a young man. Seemingly overnight, Eli aged from eleven to seventeen years old. He grew to a lean six foot one. He was handsome, with a wonderful smile and shaggy dark hair not unlike another man I was close to.

  I was aware of the appreciative glances he received from the opposite sex, yet he never had more than a casual friendship with any young woman. I suspected we spent too much time alone together, and that he was unnaturally close to me. I feared he no longer looked at me as a child to a mother, but as something else entirely. I tried in vain to encourage his affections in other directions, but he could not be influenced. I shared my worries with Giovanni, but he did not seem as concerned, and brushed the matter aside.

  I found myself in an odd situation with two men: one with whom my soul was inextricably combined, and another who was just finding his footing in an increasingly complicated adult world. The one recourse I had, something that had not been available to me since before I left my human life, was that I had found a friend. For certain, most of our social interactions were scant and superficial, but with her things were decidedly different. She was a kindred soul in many ways, and someone I came to care about deeply.

  Her name was Charlotte. She must have been in her late sixties, though she was very coy about her true age. She too lived in quiet seclusion, much enjoying her own company to that of others. If I thought our home was grand, hers put ours to shame. She was a thin, strong and opinionated woman, who cared little about appropriateness or making nice. She spoke her mind, to the fury and embarrassment of many, and lived her life on her own terms. Once upon a time she had been married to royalty, and should have been more accurately referred to as Lady Charlotte, but she was above pretences. She had been a widow for more than twenty years and her only son had married into a wealthy and influential Italian family. He lived on the continent now, visiting only a few times a year.

  As I more and more felt the need to distance myself from the closeness I had unwittingly developed with Eli, I often found myself in Charlotte’s company. She never thought of my late visits as strange, and I was one of very few people she allowed access to her home. Most times we simply talked, about everything and anything.

  The few times Eli accompanied me to see if there might be something in Charlotte’s library he hadn’t read yet, I noticed that she eyed our interactions warily, yet the subject remained untouched.

  Some of the most entertaining times I spent in England were when I accompanied Charlotte to some kind of elite function. She was frightfully straightforward, leaving many a young lady in tears, or members of “proper” society blusteringly mad. And the gossip she knew! There was not an affair, nervous breakdown, bankruptcy, or other faux pas she didn’t know about. Most, I’m sure, didn’t like her, but they were smart enough to placate her.

  It finally came to a point where Eli had learnt all that the private tutors we hired could teach him. He excelled at all he turned his mind to, but still craved more. He was then eighteen years old, and it was time that he progressed to formal university training. When I approached him about it, his reaction couldn’t have astounded me more.

  “Why do you want me to go away?” He was obviously hurt by my suggestion.

  “Eli, that’s not what I meant. I just want to make sure you get the best education possible, and I think you’ve exhausted what can be accomplished at home. This has nothing to do with wanting to separate myself from you.” Though I silently thought it wouldn’t hurt for him to develop new relationships.

  “I’m happy here,” he stated.

  “Don’t you want to try new things, make new friends… maybe find a girlfriend?”

  With these last words he launched himself into my arms, and I was painfully aware that he was no longer a boy. I pulled away slightly, uncomfortable with the intimate touch. He looked down into my eyes, his face tense and full of hurt. “I have friends, but the only people who really matter to me are you and Giovanni, and to a lesser extent Jacob and Charlotte. I want to stay here.”

  I took his hand and led him to a small sofa where we both sat. “I think you can have both. There is an excellent school nearby where you could study, and still live at home. Jacob can take you, or you can drive yourself and we can still spend time together. I just don’t want you to miss out on anything… ”

  He brushed his hand across my cheek. “I have everything I want right here.”

  “Why so serious?” Giovanni’s voice sounded in the room, and Eli quickly withdrew his hand from my face. Giovanni seemed oblivious to the tension between Eli and me.

  “We’re discussing Eli going to university, and he has some reservations.”

  Giovanni dropped onto a chair opposite us. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. A boy as smart as you should go to university.”

  Eli’s voice was quiet and tight when he spoke. “I just don’t want to move away.”

  Giovanni nodded, and looked to me for input. I must have had a strange expression on my face, for his eyes narrowed slightly. A soft touch tingled in my brain, as Giovanni tried to read my thoughts.

  I forced a smile, and it felt wrong on my face. “I suggested the school nearby, where he could commute to from home.”

  “Sounds reasonable. What do you think, Eli?”

  He stood, looking pointedly at me when he answered. “Sounds great. I think I need to go study if I’m going to be writing entrance exams.” With that he left the room.

  I crossed the room, and lowered myself into Giovanni’s lap. I drank in his scent, eager for his touch. I was inexplicably disturbed by what had transpired. Had I read too much into it? Hadn’t I been looking for inappropriate behaviour? And hadn’t I played my part in what happened?

  Giovanni’s lips tickled my ear, and I turned to meet him in a kiss. I poured myself into the embrace.

  “Come out to the studio with me,” he whispered.

  For the past few weeks Giovanni had been working on a semi-nude portrait of me, reclining on a plum-coloured settee. I removed my clothing and settled back into the now familiar pose, with the silky fabric draped across lower body. My hair was down, spilling across my pale shoulders and breasts. After about an hour, Giovanni came around the side of his easel, wiping his hands. His long, paint-covered fingers found the fabric about my body, pulling it away to spill onto the floor.

  Then his hands traced their way up the outer edge of my leg, over my hip and across my bare stomach. He cupped my breast gently and as he lowered his mouth, my nipple became hard with anticipation. His tongue snaked out and as it touched my bare skin, I shuddered with pleasure. His tongue traced its way over my breast, up my throat, his mouth finally finding my own.

  As he raised himself up to his knees to be able to reach my mouth, my hands moved to the front of his pants. I lowered the zipper, and even before my hands slipped inside I could feel his arousal. He growled softly in his throat. I urgently pulled the pants down until he was exposed. I shifted my position until I was seated, wrapping my legs tightly around his body. With one, quick thrust he entered me then there was nothing else but the pleasure of his body.

  My fangs enlarged, as often happens when being sexually aroused, and it was compounded by us not having fed that night. I ran my tongue along my teeth, eyes half-closed in ecstasy. I was dimly aware of the prickly sensation of being watched, but we were both too close to stop. Moments later, Giovanni climaxed and collapsed forward against my body. “I think there’s someone outside,” I whispered into his ear.

  His
body instantly became rigid. He zipped up his pants and stood, all in one incredibly fast and fluid movement. That left me displayed in all my nakedness, so I scooped up my clothing from the floor and retreated to one of the smaller rooms to dress. I heard the door open, and when I returned Giovanni was gone, obviously looking for our voyeur. I walked around to the front of the portrait, momentarily stunned by the beautiful woman who looked back at me. It wasn’t finished, with much of the detail still lacking, but the vision was clear. Was this how I was or how Giovanni saw me?

  An almost undetectable sound from the doorway startled me, and I whirled about in surprise with fangs ready. Eli stood just inside the doorway, pale and startled at my reaction. I quickly closed my mouth. There was a poignant and terrible silent exchange between the two of us, where there was no doubt as to who was watching. Eli lowered his eyes then retreated into the night. A few minutes later, Giovanni returned, finding me waiting on the same settee where we had just made love.

  He came immediately to my side. “Eli is the only one out there. I crossed paths with him about halfway from here to the stables. You don’t think it was him?”

  I shook my head, but could not bring myself to smile. I felt a tight pain in my heart I knew I could not share with him. It was something I would need to deal with myself. “No, I don’t think he was spying. Maybe it was simply his presence I was picking up on?” The suggestion sounded thin, even to my own ears.

  Giovanni placed a kiss on my cheek. “Even vampires can lose themselves to the throes of passion, my love.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I was crossing my signals. Let’s not worry about it anymore, okay?” I looked pleadingly into his concerned face, and he smiled. “The portrait looks wonderful.”

  He cocked his head, and I could see the pride in his eyes. “Yes, definitely one of my best works. Could be because I have the perfect subject?”

  “I don’t know about that, but one that obviously pleases you,” I teased back, though my true thoughts were not so light-hearted.