Meeting Eternity (The Sullivan Vampires, Volume 1

by Bridget Essex

  But when Mercy was done, blood covering the front of her, her hands dripping as she held the gory head before her, the girl who had been tied to the table began to scream again.

  “No, no, it’s all right—you’re safe,” said Mercy gently, and with a flick of her hands she’d cut through the ropes and untied them from the girl’s body, but the girl leapt off the table and backed up against the far wall, shaking as she gazed at the two of us.

  “You’re monsters,” the girl whispered. And then, over and over again like a mantra: “Please don’t hurt me.”

  “We won’t,” Mercy promised her, but the girl was sobbing, was repeating the word “monsters” over and over again, then. She turned, and she fled past us out into the hallway.

  Mercy dropped the vampire’s head in disgust on the floor where it rolled to a standstill away from us. She knelt there, then, in the warm blood that pooled upon the stone floor, and with her face in her hands, Mercy began to weep.

  I tried to console her. I tried to tell her that we were not the monstrous ones. That we had saved this girl’s life, and the girl was upset, had just experienced a nightmare world that she could never understand. But there was something of truth in the girl’s words, something that we both had to acknowledge.

  We had become irrevocably changed. We were no longer human. We were vampire. And there was something in us that had made destroying Darcy so very easy.

  There was something of Darcy in us, whether we wanted to admit it or not.

  Mercy decided to change her name to Kane. Kane means “fighter,” and she had fought so hard to live that it seemed appropriate. We took from the vampire’s storehouse some money, some jewels, and we fled that land. We left Ireland, sailed on to England, and we changed our lives irrevocably, as they had been changed for us.

  And we stayed together, Kane and I. And we vowed that though there was something monstrous in us, never again would it rise and consume us.

  We would never become like Darcy.

  ---

  Branna tilted her head as she gazed at me, as her eyes lost the soft focus of the past and saw me clearly again. “Though our past is steeped in blood, we have stayed true to that decision for our entire lives. Kane and I traveled the world together gathering women to us who were like us—that we would never become like Darcy. We knew that we would never again hide the most essential part of our natures. We would love women and there would be no shame in that, not like there was shame of being a vampire,” said Bran with a sigh. “And, over time, we lost our shame of that, too. We know that we are not damned. We hurt no other creatures. We do not take what is not freely given,” she murmured. “And eventually, Kane found Melody. And I am, perhaps,” she said with a small smile, “still waiting for the woman who is right for me. And I think I shall find her. Someday.” She bit her lip, cleared her throat. “But the love Kane and Melody had for each other…it is not what is reflected in what I see between Kane and Melody now. There is something rotten in the state of Denmark, my dear Rose,” she whispered.

  I thought about the story as I sank back in the plush chair, as I set my empty tea mug beside me on the little table. I thought of how strong Branna and Kane must have been to survive an ordeal like that.

  But it didn’t surprise me, this story of their strength.

  Kane had always struck me as a fighter.

  It was unfair the feelings that Branna’s tale had invoked in me. I felt, deeply, that I wanted Kane to fight for me now. But, really, fight against…what? Melody? Melody was her soul mate.

  Why would Kane ever chose me over a woman she had professed once was her soul mate?

  Branna still watched me with appraising eyes that narrowed. “There was something between you, Rose. Between you and Kane,” she whispered, then. “My question to you is…what are you going to do about it?”

  I stood slowly, shook my head, smoothed out my skirts. “Thank you so much for the tea, Bran. And for the story. I loved hearing it,” I told her sincerely. “But I’m not going to do anything about…about Kane and me. There’s nothing there anymore.” I worked my jaw and swallowed, but I had to say it. So I did. “Melody’s back.”

  Branna stood, bowing her head to me. She looked as if she was going to say something else, but then she shook her head sharply, folded her hands in front of her. “If that’s how you feel, Rose,” she said simply.

  It wasn’t how I felt.

  But there was nothing else I could do. I’d told myself that so many times that I was almost beginning to believe it.

  But there was some small part in my heart that cried out against that.

  If I was being honest with myself, I would have admitted that if Kane couldn’t fight for me, then I wanted, more than anything, to fight for her.

  ---

  “Did you hear?” whispered Clare when I came to stand beside her behind the front desk. It was the next day, morning, and I was well-dressed in a navy-blue blouse and black pencil skirt, ballet flats over tights, my hair up in a wavy ponytail. I didn’t know exactly who I intended to impress anymore—the woman I was falling in love with, who I could no longer have, or the rest of the vampires.

  I guess that was a little uncharitable. It seemed that most of them couldn’t help that they were vampires.

  But I’d gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, so I was feeling a little less than charitable. Last night I’d been tortured with dream after dream of Kane, Kane in clothes I’d never seen her wear, antique clothes, her long white-blonde hair done up in antique hair styles, as if we were in another time. The dreams were full of Kane kissing me passionately, her cold mouth against mine as she drank me in. Kane had whispered in these dreams, over and over with her perfect smoky voice that she loved me. So many different dreams and situations, but always the same thing. A long, sweet, hot kiss.

  And then: “I love you.”

  I was completely driving myself crazy.

  “Did I hear what?” I asked Clare, trying out a smile. It felt like a grimace, but it seemed to make Clare happy, for she returned the smile and looked a little relieved. She seemed like a nice woman, my new coworker. I liked her, even though I hadn’t spent that much time with her. We were supposed to share a shift that day, so I thought I’d get to know her a little better.

  It was Monday, and the Conference was supposed to begin that night. The Conference, I realized, that was supposedly the big meeting of vampires.

  I doubted, though, that Clare’s secret was telling me the Conference was full of vampires.

  “Kane’s ex-lover is back,” she murmured out of the corner of her mouth with wide eyes. “And supposedly, she’s starting to help Kane run the hotel again.”

  “Oh, joy,” I muttered with a long sigh. I was a pretty easy-going person, and I’d once prided myself with the fact that I could get along with almost anyone.

  I could not, however, imagine getting along with Melody.

  Clare began to prattle on about hotel gossip, about the Sullivan women and normally this would interest me immensely—the mysterious Sullivan women were captivating to me with their interesting stories and, of course, the unexpected fact that they were all vampires. And it’s not that I didn’t want to listen to Clare or contribute to the conversation, but my mind was in other places, and my eyes had strayed to the painting on the wall by the front desk of Kane.

  I knew it was Kane, now, the woman who lounged with the big, black cat—possibly a panther or a jaguar. And though the cat was impressive and big and beautiful, you weren’t looking at the cat when you glanced at the painting.

  You were looking at the naked woman sitting regal and calm and utterly comfortable in her own power.

  It was done tastefully, the woman’s nudity, as classic art tended toward, with Kane in a classic pose, her back to the viewer, but as my eyes swept over the taut curves and lines of her body, even painted by a master’s deft stroke, and knowing it was only paint, it was still bewitching to me.

  I hadn�
��t noticed that Clare had grown silent. I did notice, however, the elbow lightly jabbed into my stomach.

  And then, as if summoned by my thoughts themselves, Kane was there, standing in front of the desk.

  Clare elbowed me again, and I straightened, smiling wanly at the handsome vampire who leaned against the front desk lazily, her palms pressed against the wood and her upper body leaning toward me with a sort of languid ease, as if her entire body wasn’t raw, incredible power. I’d not yet seen her power utilized, but it seemed as if I already knew what she was capable of.

  I stared at her, at her bright blue eyes that seemed to be gazing into the deepest, darkest parts of me. We stayed that way for a long moment, long enough that Clare shifted her weight uncomfortably and cleared her throat.

  “Clare, I’m sorry to interrupt you,” said Kane smoothly, softly, an unlit cigarette suddenly in her long, tapered fingers. “But I need to borrow Rose just for a moment. Rose, if you don’t mind.” She straightened, and put the cigarette to her lips, drawing a lighter out of her pocket. It was a little absurd to see such a mundane contraption in her beautiful hands that all I could do was stare for a long moment. Then I straightened, too, and cleared my throat.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told the open-mouthed Clare, and I walked woodenly around the edge of the front desk, falling beside Kane.

  And we left through the front door, my heart racing. We walked together like we’d been doing it all our lives, Kane’s hands in her jacket pockets, her shoulders rounded and her head bent, me keeping pace like my body knew what to do, even when my heart didn’t.

  The door shut behind us quietly, and then it was just Kane and me on the porch between the red columns and the red stone walls of the Sullivan Hotel itself. I realized I was disappointed with how beautiful the day was—I wanted it to be atmospheric, to be night with all its stars overhead, swinging bright and full of possibility in the sky again. But it was only morning, and the sun was out, almost hot and shining as already-fallen leaves skittered across the full gravel parking lot, and the sea breeze rose up from the chill ocean, making me taste salt.

  Kane remained in the shadow of the marble column, leaning back against it as she inhaled deeply on her cigarette and let the breath out into the air like smoke, her nose pointed to the sky.

  “I told Melody,” she said, then, dropping her gaze and watching my face with her own inscrutable blue eyes as she flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette slowly. She took another long pull. The smoke curled out of her mouth as she said murmured: “about us.”

  I went cold.

  “There is no ‘us,’ Kane,” I whispered almost immediately, my first reaction. It hurt to say it, and it twisted the knife in my gut to see Kane’s gaze darken, to see her clench her jaw, but it was the truth, wasn’t it?

  There was no “us.” Only Melody and Kane.

  I’d never gotten a chance.

  “What did you tell her?” I whispered, wrapping my arms around my middle. Though the day was warm, I felt a cool chill descend over me as Kane straightened, as she stepped forward toward me. My body betrayed me as it leaned toward her, but she moved past me, taking another long pull on the cigarette before stubbing it out against the side of the closest marble planter and depositing it in the cigarette post on the side of the door.

  She stood so close, I could reach out and press my fingers against her cheek, press my palm there, and she might turn, might if I was lucky, and she would press her lips against my skin.

  Slowly, as if we were in one of my dreams again, she took a step forward, working her jaw, swallowing, wetting her lips as she searched for the words, her violently blue eyes pinning me into place. My body shuddered with surprise and delight even as her cold fingers curled over my hips, even as I closed my eyes, breathing out in pleasure. It was such a simple touch, but it was more than I’d ever expected again.

  I should never have expected anything. But here we were. And the leaves danced across the parking lot as the low wind blew, and the scent of Kane swirled all around me, that bold note of jasmine, the intoxicating spice of her. I breathed her in as my heart ached, as every bit of me cried out for me to reach forward and touch her, too.

  But then she spoke.

  “I told her…” Kane’s voice was low, gravelly, smoky as she struggled with the words, as the anguish spilled out of her mouth. I opened my eyes, gazed up at her as she breathed out, as she searched my eyes, tightening her grip on my hips as if I was the only thing that held her to this place, as if I was the only thing that anchored her to this world. “I told her that I am drawn to you. That there is something about you that calls to me so strongly I can not ignore it.” She gazed down at me with such violent longing that I almost moaned as her fingers dug into me. I wanted her, wanted her in ways I couldn’t even understand. She whispered: “I told her that that, after all this time, I don’t understand what has happened…but what was within Melody that connected me to her. It’s gone.”

  Kane searched my eyes and took a shaky breath, her own blue eyes wide and wet with tears. She pushed away from me, then, and all I was instantly ached as she straightened, shaking with self control as she tugged down on the hem of her jacket, transforming almost instantly from the vulnerable Kane who’d gripped me tightly, her voice and her body filled with desire, who told me with that perfect, smoky voice that she was drawn to me…to the Kane who ran the Sullivan Hotel, strong and electric and completely without weakness.

  But there the vulnerable pain remained in her, and I saw it clearly when she gazed into my eyes, searching to the very heart of me.

  “This isn’t going to work,” she whispered, shaking her head as she turned away from me, her profile outlined by the brilliant sun as she turned toward the door. She brushed past me and for a brief moment, her fingers curled around mine and then were gone. “I can’t be around you. Not without…” She choked on the words, straightened again, cleared her throat. “I’m not good for you. Please go,” she murmured, her hand on the doorknob.

  She paused for a long moment, her back stiff beneath my gaze, the lovely slope of her shoulders pain-filled and tight, and then Kane opened the door and was through it.

  I hadn’t even realized that tears leaked steadily out of my eyes. I reached up and brushed them angrily away.

  Not good for me? Couldn’t I be the judge of that? She’d made the decision to be with Melody—I’d been given no choice in this.

  I followed her angrily. There were so many words that wanted to tumble out of my mouth, so many feelings raging through me, but mostly what I wanted was to stand up on my tiptoes, wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss her so deeply that we’d merge, the two of us together.

  But when I entered into the front lobby, Kane was, of course, already gone.

  As I stood in the entryway, as my hands curled and uncurled into fists, anger moved through me. And of course I was angry. I had every right to be. Kane had told Melody about us? Why did she say, again, the words that pained me so much? That she was drawn to me. She’d made the choice to be with Melody. She had chosen Melody absolutely, and the pure and honest truth of the matter, the painful truth, was that she hadn’t chosen me.

  And we both had to live with that decision.

  Clare watched me with wide eyes as I all but stomped around the edge of the front desk, pushing up the sleeves of my blouse as I cleared my throat, lifted up my chin placed my hands flat on the surface of the front desk.

  I stared at the front door and dared it to open with guests.

  And, surprisingly, it did.

  I hadn’t even seen a car pull up when Kane and I were out there, but now on the front step, wheeling two taupe designer suitcases in behind them, were two women. One had hair the same color as Kane’s, but it was much longer, descending to curl beneath her hips, and a cruel, insolent smile on her beautifully made-up face. She wore a stylish blouse and pencil skirt ensemble that seemed out of place with her long, unbound hair.

  Th
e other woman, like many of the people who had checked in, wore a plain black dress and a plain, black hat that reminded me of something women might have worn in the seventies on a beach. Her big, movie star dark sunglasses hid her eyes, but her face looked old, lined and wrinkled. Her thin slash of a mouth was still covered in red lipstick, however. She reminded me of an aging starlet, clinging to something she’d lost long ago, but when she angled her face toward me, I took an involuntary step backward. I couldn’t see her eyes, but her face seemed, somehow…hungry.

  “Magdalena and Cindy,” said the white-blonde woman, her lips curling up at the corners as she watched my reaction. Startled, I gazed back at her. She was tapping the surface of the desk with an expensive looking manicure.

  Clare gave me a glance, but she began the necessary arrangements to find their reservations as I turned woodenly, stepping toward the back wall with its rows and rows of hooks and keys and fished two keys off the wall. The blonde woman signed “Magdalena” with a flourish of the pen and then handed the pen to her companion as she put her head to the side and smiled charmingly.

  “Can someone help us with our luggage?” she asked, switching her little purse to her other arm and grinning a bit wider as Clare paled beside me.

  She might not have known they were vampires, but I was beginning to realize that you didn’t need to know someone was dangerous for your instincts to kick in and tell you that this certain someone was bad news.

  “I can do that,” I said quickly. I knew they were vampires, and I didn’t happen to fear pretty much anything right now. I stepped quickly around the front desk, and then I was on the other side, grasping the smooth handles of their designer rollerboard luggage without even thinking. “Please follow me, ladies,” I told them briskly, and then I was pacing quickly ahead of them down the hallway of portraits. I’d put them on the first floor, so at least I wouldn’t have to deal with the stairs while trying to tug the luggage behind me.