THE HEALING HEART

by Zelda Clemens

  “I don’t know why I have come here,” August answered truthfully, ignoring his hostility. “I should be traveling to London, but instead, I am here talking to you.”

  “Oh, how disappointing that must be for you,” he snapped. August tensed.

  “Drop the facade Everard!” August scolded, “It serves you ill to speak so childishly.” Everard shot her a glare that was enough to kill.

  “You really have exceeded yourself in what you have done,” August began. “Why now after all these years have you decided to call upon me? You made it plain that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  Abruptly, Everard got his feet. August’s maker detested nothing more than to be spoken to like a child. But he knew she was right. August could sense it.

  “Why do I have to tell you my most private thoughts?” he spat nastily.

  “Because if you want to have any chance of redemption, Everard, then your best bet is to start talking now or I’m gone. I will turn my back on you, I will oppose you until you despise me and hunt me down and murder me in my coffin.” August’s answer provoked him.

  “You're brave to speak to me so freely, August,” he muttered darkly, “I have forgotten the fire that you bear in your soul. But what makes you think that I won't kill you? After all, that’s why you’re here, is it not?”

  Instantly August raised her chin as his meaning caught her attention. Everard was aware of what his duty was to her. He was such a damned good liar. He laughed at her expression. “And there you thought I didn’t know. Oh, I know what your new lover has been saying to you, love. He whispers to me the same poisons as he does you. I know I am to be your death. But you, my dear August, what exactly is your part in this to me?”

  August dug her nails into the soft plush of the armchair. Her mind raced at what Everard uttered. Kyle was the one who was insisting on her death, the young fledgling that she had grown to love. Kyle was her companion, but he could never fill the void of losing her noble lord. That was the bitter truth. August was still loyal to Everard, but too selfish to admit her true feelings to him.

  “I have no purpose to you.” August tried to sound as if she was not afraid but the way that he suddenly looked at her was unnerving. Everard looked like a lion about to attack its prey.

  “That’s not the way this works now is it. Your dear little fledgling has grown jealous. He knows your dark little secret, my love. He knows our little secret. So, you see my dear, I have a purpose and you, my dear, sweet nightmares also have a purpose.” His face grew dark, hateful. “So what is it?”

  August wanted to leave. She wanted to flee. For two hundred years, she had not once been afraid of her lover until that moment. For once August truly saw her immortal lover for what he was: a monster.

  “I told you,” she whispered. Everard was stalking close to her. August did not move. Could not.

  “Ah yes, of course, my blood.” Everard stopped in front of August before biting hard into his wrist. She had not expected his reaction but no sooner had he bitten into his dead flesh, his wrist was it at August’s mouth forcing her to drink, drowning her in powerful blood. She didn’t drink it.

  Forcefully August ripped herself from out of his vice-like grip and launched herself at him like a crazed animal. She was furious, livid, outraged by his blasphemous behavior. His back hit the stone wall with a crack. His fangs bared in wild insanity. Everard was stronger than she thought, and August was thrown into the cold stone wall, her fangs bared at him in hate.

  “You foolish, foolish girl!” He hissed at August, pinning me closer to the wall. “You dare attack me? Me! Have you forgotten who I am?”

  “Have you forgotten who I am?” August retorted with equal venom in her tone. He didn’t release her.

  “I know all too well who you are! I created you, you insufferable fool!”

  “Release me,” August threatened. Her anger rose to the point where she was capable of destroying him. Everard arched an eyebrow in cockiness.

  “Are you threatening me, my love?” he mocked.

  “I will not ask again.” Everard all but practically slammed August into the wall before he released her. She glared at him, wanting to tear out his arrogant throat.

  “What do you want from me? I grow bored of this game you play.”

  “It is you who is playing a game Everard. You who once again has dabbled in the history of our kind. Your letter brought me to Paris, not in hopes of a reconciliation but a reason as to why you left me to rot the moment that I became your vampiric pet!” A strange look crossed his face then, and August knew that her words had struck a nerve.

  “You dare speak of such things?” he hissed lowly.

  “Yes!” she growled, “I do! For centuries, I have walked the streets of London wondering if I would ever see you again! At first I thought that I could live without you, that I could live with the hurt that you inflicted on me. But with time, I realized that I could not. The pain was too deep. For years, I have walked this earth alone with nothing but my pain for company. How can you be cool when you know what pain you have caused?” August stopped before continuing slowly, disdainfully. “How can you face me when you know that we have a history of pain and suffering?”

  Everard bristled like she knew he would. Her words had power. August stepped closer to him, playing the arrogant vampire at his own game. She was the only one brave enough to attempt such an act.

  “Hmm,” August laughed slowly, mockingly into his ear. His back was to her. “You think you're invincible. Immune to the pains of the world. Little do you realize that are you are the cause of most of the atrocities that go on in this God-forsaken realm. When will you finally face up to your responsibility as a vampire to actually behave like a vampire? Why do you feel this constant need to be known? The urge to cause chaos? I know the reason.”

  Everard didn’t face her when he spoke. “Do you?” he answered darkly, “And what is the reason, pray tell?”

  It was simple. “You are afraid.” Everard whirled around so fast then in a white mist that even August’s supernatural eyes could not see his movements. Eyes of clear blue stared into hers like ice daggers, sharp and menacing.

  “And what am I afraid of, dear August?” he roared. When August did not answer, he snapped, “Oh come, let's not be coy. You stand there in all your vampiric beauty, your immortal life that I gave to you, yet you insult me by calling me afraid? How dare you! You impotent wretch! You sicken me, get out of my sight before I obey your beloved’s wish!”

  August didn’t move. “Fool!” he hissed again, teeth bared. “Do you have a death wish?” August found the pun amusing.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she told him calmly, which only enraged him more. August knew what was coming next. Her determination always brought out the evil within him. Everard despised being challenged, confronted. Everard liked to think that he was the superior one.

  Cold hands wrapped firmly into August’s hair. He dragged her over to the bed where the dead whore lay. August could have chosen to fight him. She could have killed him, and he could have killed her. At that moment, August thought he was going to, but she was wrong. This was another one of his games that he piteously believed would frighten me into obeying him.

  “Damn you and your stubborn ways!” he growled as he threw her on the bed. Everard threw himself over her, pinning her down, trying to intimidate her. A long time ago it would have worked.

  Silence prevailed between them as they lay together like two lovers locked in hatred. It had been centuries since they had been so close, so intimately close. When mortal, her handsome lord often showered August with his affection and would make love to her endlessly under the waxing moon.

  When he was made immortal, all human desires died away with the body rendering them no longer able to love as mortals love.

  Even though they were immortal, they still felt love. They were still able to kiss, caress the other’s cold, dead skin, whisper poetry, dance and laugh. All those emotions
did not abandon them. What we chose to feel, they felt. And so, when Everard chose to abandon love and accept hate into his heart, August chose to abandon her love for him and accept her new love for her fledgling. August’s beautiful young fledgling who was conspiring against her. August damned him for his betrayal.

  August lay in his bed, surrounded by his hard body. In their silence, his eyes looked into hers. She watched him, respecting and resenting the regal figure that pinned her to his blood-stained silken sheets all at the same time.

  Anger still burned intensely in Everard’s eyes, though his expression had now become serene. At that moment, he almost looked like a porcelain doll. August wanted to share in his anger with him, to share his grief, his pain. She wanted to open herself up to him, to cradle his black head in her lap, caress him as a mother caressed her child. But August knew that what she felt was madness.

  As if Everard could read her thoughts, he relaxed slightly. Slowly, tenderly, he raised his hand and placed it on August’s face. His action surprised her, but she showed no such emotion. August merely allowed him to do this, while her eyes watched his every move.

  “Why do we do this?” he suddenly whispered to here. All traces of anger gone.

  “Do what?” August answered.

  “Pretend that we are no longer companions.” His fingers began to trace her jawline. Gentle, careful, as if she was made of marble.

  “Because we are not, Everard.” It was a bitter-sweet revelation that made her feel sad. “We have not been for many a century.”

  “But we could be,” he whispered leaning closer to August’s face. She inhaled his scent. So intoxicating and powerful that he sent her into overdrive. “Again.”

  “And what madness has possessed you to think of such a thing?” August breathed as he toyed with her lips.

  “You're here. Your presence intoxicates me as much as it irritates me. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I no longer want you, Ah, but the more I want you.”

  “I would serve you no good,” August whispered gently as her own anger receded. They were actually communicating now, and she did not know why. The whole situation unnerved her. This was not the Everard she knew.

  “I could teach you things. There is still so much that you could learn about your gifts my love. I could teach you, show you and we could become one again, like in the old days.” At his false hope, August smiled.

  “The past is the past love, let’s forget it. I do not wish to continue living in my shadow.” His jaw tightened slightly at her words.

  “But what if I cannot forget it?”

  “What is it you cannot forget?” He sighed a heavy sigh and for the first time turned his eyes away from August to the dead girl that lay at her side.

  “I am a monster. A cold-hearted murderer who preys on the fear of others. I am a killer, a hunter.” Then turning his eyes back to hers, he said coldly, “A stealer of lives.” August then realized that Everard wanted to talk of her making.

  “We are all stealers of lives,” August told him half-heartedly.

  “Admirable of you to lie so freely,” he scolded gently. “But we both know you haven’t killed a victim out of pure hatred. I have and will again. I’ve stolen mortal lives and forced them into eternal darkness whether they wanted it or not. I have made fledglings that loved life yet I stole them greedily away from the light and threw them into the dark. I stole you.”

  “Everard,” August began wearily, but he cut her off.

  “We never had the opportunity to talk about it. You never had the opportunity to consent or refuse me. I just took you for my own selfish desires. I couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from you. I was cast into a world that I knew little about. I didn’t have a choice in my making. And so I returned to you, raging and angry and hateful, jealous of your life, your humanity. I couldn’t bear the thought of you living. I wanted you to suffer the same fate as I, so I took you against your will. I...” He stopped in mid-sentence.

  Everard’s hand upon August’s face fell onto her stomach. She felt a surge of memories flood back to her in an unwanted tidal wave. A sharp breath escaped her lips at his touch. His eyes held hers as he spoke. “I murdered our child.”

  August couldn't stand it anymore. “I went back there,” she whispered mournfully in a monotonous voice. “To our apartment. I went out to hunt, but I ended up back at the house.”

  August forced herself to sit up. Everard slowly recoiled in bitter sadness, but she took his hand in hers. He softened. “I visited the grave my sweet. It’s abandoned. Ivy hangs overgrown over the tomb; it smells of death even though there is no body or no bones lying beneath it. I pity the place. I...”

  “I took everything from you,” he answered, “Your brother, our unborn child, your life.”

  “The past is forgotten,” August answered sadly. It was a lie. The past was not forgotten. It could never be forgotten.

  Everard sighed heavily before reaching out his slender arms and encircling August in a tight embrace. He pulled her to his chest, and she let him. He smoothed her hair as he once did when she had arisen a distraught vampire. August closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the moment one last time before she left him for good.

  “Oh my love,” he said to her softly. “I have lain with many a mortal woman since you left me. In my pain, I went on a killing spree, I indulged in the most twisted, sickest perversions that I could imagine. Yes, there were many beautiful mortals, but not one of them was as beautiful as you. When I lay with the living, it was not the temptation that I was seeing. It was you.”

  August smiled into the silk of his chest like a bashful child. “Fool,” August whispered and for once she heard him laugh. It was like music to her ears, light and magical. For a time, they were not two immortal beings entwined in darkness. No, they were two mortal lovers again.

  *****

  August don’t how long they had been lying there on the bed, but she was awoken by the sound of her phone ringing. August sprang to her feet at the sound and pulled the phone out of her leather jacket. August looked at the screen. It was Kyle. Swiping her finger across the screen, she answered. Everard was sleeping like a raven-haired angel.

  “I know you are at a loss as to why I haven’t come home, my love,” August whispered to Kyle with her anger burning. August knew that Kyle wanted her dead. All this time he had conspired against her. He was jealous of her feelings for Everard. He was selfish. He wanted August all to himself but he knew that he could never have her. As much as she tried to deny it, she belonged to only one vampire: Everard Nightingale.

  For a long moment, Kyle didn’t answer. The phone line went dead. August’s fledgling was furious; she could sense it. She could feel his hate, his resentment.

  August turned to look at her lover then. Everard was sleeping, his arms spread wide out over the bed like an angel. She had to make her move now; she had to leave him, unnoticed.

  August remained silent. All she could hear was the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth behind her. She stood as still as a ghost, unmoving, apprehensive. Her head bowed slightly, looking at the floor. August’s mind raced as she began to think how Everard should never have taken her humanity away and killed their child. Even now, the memory was too painful for August to bear, even after all these centuries.

  August could feel his eyes burning into hers before she lifted her head to look at him. When she did, Everard was half-smirking his famous arrogant smile.

  “I should go,” August whispered in a strange tone. She tried to make a move, but Everard shot his hand out to her wrist, halting her steps. August looked down at his hand on her wrist before looking back up into his eyes.

  “So soon?” he answered, “You’ve only just arrived.”

  “I have business to attend to in London,” August told him. He snorted then.

  “Of all the excuses!” he began, and just like that the monster returned. August was in no mood to listen to his childishness. She had put
with his childish ways for half of her newborn vampire life. As a mortal, Everard had never been so cruel and deceitful.

  “There is no further reason for me to stay now my love,” August whispered tiredly to him. Everard's eyes sparkled a deep blue then, and she felt her heart race.

  “You are going to walk back into the world and be at great risk of being murdered while you slumber?” he questioned.

  “It's a risk I am willing to take,” she told him, “besides, if I were to die, it would be by your hand. You're my death!”

  Everard studied August for a long moment then before finally, gracefully walking over to her, his silken shirt shining in the dim candle light. She watched his every move, waiting.

  “You know I won't kill you,” he purred gently then, his blue eyes glinting in the light. “I made you because you are beautiful. Why would I want to end such beauty?” “It wouldn’t be up to you, would it?” August stated bluntly, unappeased by his flattering remarks. “My fledgling is a manipulator, a deceiver. He corrupts and he possesses. If you were to kill me right now and he was in control, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

  “And how do you know this for certain?” he questioned. August frowned.

  “You tell me,” she whispered, staring at him.

  Everard was so calm and collected that it was maddening. She didn’t want to know any more, so she moved from the roaring fireplace and made her way to the door.

  “I have to go,” August told him again, but as she made way to leave, his cold slender hand caught August’s arm to prevent her from leaving once again.

  “For over a hundred years I have not seen you, August, and now you are going to leave me again?” August turned her eyes to face him, but when she looked at him, his face was inches away from hers. August’s soul set on fire as she stared into his eyes. She became uncomfortable being so intimately close to him. Even after all these centuries with him, Everard still had the power to seduce her and he knew it.