Echoes in Eternity (The Pella Series Book 1) (73 page)

“What do you get in return?” he asks with disgust crossing his arms.

“Come now! Don’t you take that tone with me! How can you put a price on one’s life or the lives of his loved ones? What is land and property if you aren’t alive to enjoy it? Love is the most expensive emotion and you,” she says digging her index finger with
an unnatural force into his chest, I feel the pain deep in my heart, “…you can’t afford to love!”

The
Duke ignores what she just stated, but he continues to probe his mother.

“Why can’t you let the humans sort their own problems and let them be?”

“Like you let this girl into our midst tonight? Isn’t she human? Why didn’t you let her be? Were you concerned that she might be left without protection from the revolutionists outside and succumb to the wrath of the guillotine?” she asks quizzically, not letting him drop the subject. The question is asked so gently and innocently, it even takes me a minute to register the malicious undertone. I can clearly see through Courcillion’s eyes that his mother knows exactly what Elissa’s nature is. But her son is unable to read the bitch’s impassive façade properly.

“I suspect that she is more than human. I’ve never seen anyone who has impressed me so much, and her father is in possession of such wealth that it cannot be accumulated in
just one lifetime. Considering he lives on the continent and a savage land to add that, he did not inherit his money from his ancestors like we did, he must either have the Midas touch and everything he touches turns to gold, or he’s more than human. If he is, he disguises it well. But, Elissa, she…” he says pausing. He has a hard time wording how he feels for her.

“I’ve heard what you intend to ask her. Let me make this absolutely clear,” she say
s regally, taking a step towards her son. “You may never marry her! Not unless losing your name, title, and inheritance mean anything to you. You will be penniless, worse than those vile revolutionists!”

“I want her! I love her! She’s is who I want to spend the rest of my life with…” but the bitch cuts h
im off.

“The rest of your life? Do you not know about your immortality? Eternity is a long time to spend with a love interest. You will quickly tire of her, and your love will turn into bitterness. Can you imagine eating the same meal day after day?”

“You’re comparing the intricacies of her character to food? By the same token, she can tire of me!”

“Indeed. Marriage is for producing the next generation and humans can’t do that. Immortality isn’t give
n to diluted blood! She will weaken our lineage!”

“She’s a strong woman! I know that she will be loyal, charming and will have the fidelity to me and commitment to our title! That should mean something to you and your aristocratic dual natured sycophants!”

“If you want loyalty and fidelity, get a dog. I have made sure that I did not fill your head with notions like devotion, and endless love. I even gave you the indiscretion clause of fathering a bastard! But I want you to marry your own station, and produce a viable heir of our kind to strengthen us! The last human you married and coupled with who was still an aristocrat died in childbirth! I’m told that she bled to death and the sight was rather unpleasant,” she says with disgust.

“I don’t know how a skinny girl like her had so much blood in that tiny body. Not even the result of
a guillotine produces that much flow,” she says intensely looking into her son’s eyes. I can feel the immense restraint in Courcillion’s head not to strangle his mother until she regenerates and heals. But the devilish woman continues to talk, ignoring her son’s fiery gaze. “It was purely unpleasant. You need one of our kind. Your heir will not survive from a human. It was your punishment for going against your mother!” Duke’s breathing falters with this information though the death of his wife and child occurred four years ago. He was in London at the time and he assumed he could make it back in time for the birth. But she went into labor early and died. By the time he got back home, he found one grave with two names on it: his wife and child’s.

His mother warned him then also, before he married Angelina. He didn’t listen. He paid his transgression against his kind by the loss of the woman he loved and their child.

I knew Courcillion was married, but I’m surprised how I never found out that Courcillion lost his wife and child during childbirth. ‘
I didn’t even have the heart to mention it to Elissa
,’ he thinks to himself. Now she knows. Two years after the loss of his wife he met Elissa. She’s nothing like Angelina. Angelina was delicate, almost breakable. A fragile beauty. Elissa on the other hand rode horses better than his best rider. She took on the fighting arts of warfare. It would be accounted as detestable if his mother found out, but she is from the land where she lived among the savages who collected scalps as trophies and kidnapped women. Yet she looked delicate like a spring flower. She had to be a Nephilim to have healed so thoroughly and so beautifully. He suspected in his heart that Elissa was his kind. He has not felt the kind of passion for anyone, not even his wife when he was with Elissa, so unique the likes of which he has never felt before. Only if he could convince his mother! For the last two weeks, he couldn’t even sleep at night because all he thinks about is having Elissa beneath him. That knowledge makes me want to send him to the depths of Hades.

“I want her mother! I love her!”

“No.” The simple denial that comes out the devilish woman’s mouth is like the lash of a whip.

“No matter what you say, my Lady, I am determined to make her mine!”

“In which case, you will have another dead woman on your hands,” she utters softly as if it’s the simplest statement of fact; an unchanging constant like the rise of the sun from the east. “I could account the first time to your ignorance…” she says pausing trying to give the full effect of her words. “But the second time around, this is all on you! You are not permitted to marry her. You may decide to fuck her which I will not oppose, but make sure you don’t produce a bastard if you don’t want her to expire in childbirth! If you so desire, fuck her tonight and the rest of the week to get the edge off. I’ll make sure that you’re left alone with her, but if you so much as mention marriage to her, you’re done! You can leave and you may never come back, never have the advantage of our name. No door shall be open to you. The man who serves you, cleans your bath chamber will be of a higher station than you are! Contemplate that my son!” she says, spewing her poison.

“Now, get out there and stand with me to greet our guests!” Maximillian Courcillion looks at his mother with such intense hatred; I have not seen or felt it in centuries. He wants Elissa, but he also doesn’t want to lose his title and money which he feels will serve as layers of protection for him and Elissa when they’re married. He hates it that France is going through a bloody revolution and now is not the time to secede from
his name, title or the money. He can ask Elissa to wait, he thinks to himself. He can have a relationship with her. Why can’t they if he still wants to get married to her?

As I become the medium that conveys the memory to Elissa, I can see the different emotions coursing through her. She
now sees Courcillion as another man who was touched by her misfortunes. She doesn’t even blame the bitch viper. Courcillion becomes another man she wants to set free. Elissa thinks that if his wife never died, Duke Courcillion would have been happy. Elissa would just be an acquaintance and nothing more. Yet, she feels she contributed to the Duke’s misery and therefore she must be responsible.

Elissa’s and my former selves walk toward the Grand Foyer of the Courcillion chateau. Elissa’s han
d is gently holding onto my arm. She presents her invitation to the announcer.

“
Mademoiselle Elissa Duncan et Monsieur Alexander Aurelius Pella
,” the announcer heralds loudly. Heads turn with barely concealed curiosity. I watch our former selves walk up to the grand staircase slowly with lavishly dressed men and women with various renditions of Venetian masks on their faces, men sporting powdered wigs whose envious gazes surreptitiously follow us at our wake. Some dip their heads slightly; some turn their noses up in not so concealed derision. Both Elissa and I are without a title or part of an aristocratic lineage here. No one exactly knows who I really am, or Elissa for that matter. Our anonymity disguising us as untitled foreigners with money is both a blessing and a curse. Elissa’s lack of title doesn’t stop the men from ogling her and their desire to toss my charge into the nearest mattress is poorly concealed, making me furious. Some look away but they steal a peripheral gaze to watch her beauty hungrily. Elissa simply looks stunning in her cream colored dress with layers of ruffles and gold inlays; her poise is just screaming class. She’s better dressed than any woman in the ballroom and that’s saying a lot considering these are the wealthiest men and women on the continent of Europe. I am alert and look around for any danger against Elissa. I am vigilant and watchful; my eyes scan everyone around us and beyond us with unforgiving scrutiny. But I still find my gaze drifting to the angelic beauty in my arms. Her dress is hugging her torso and caressing her breasts; both hinting their half-moon curve underneath as well as concealing the ripe swells of them peeking above her bodice with the alternating shade of pale pink flowers running right across them willing all eyes, male and female to want to see and admire this breathtakingly sophisticated woman. The lace sleeves run down to her elbows. Her hands are covered with gloves right below her elbows. Her hair is curled and piled high above her head, and elegant black lace is covering her eyes as a mask tied beneath an elegant pile of her hair with a pale pink silk bow. The pink flowers continue up in her hair drawing eyes to her angelic face.

Through Duke’s memories, I feel Courcillion’s overwhelming desire to rush to Elissa; he feels he might just lose the control of his legs and run to her. He walks as fast as his station would allow him. His mother sto
ps him with a forbidding smile.

“Your Ladyship,” he says dipping his head.

“A moment please,” she murmurs her head held high behind her fan. Her piercing cold blue eyes are barely visible behind her elegantly painted Venetian mask.

“My guest is here, mother,” he says turning his head towards our direction. I can feel his anxiety in seeing Elissa. His heartbeat increases. I see Elissa’s mind curiously watch this memory as if she was lost, and found her way now. This knowledge twists and buries the knife into my heart further. She is curious and getting a piece of her personal history – unfortunately it only includes me as a bodyguard and nothing else to her.
I am just another person in her father’s service. Her gaze bores into Maximillian Courcillion. The longing, desire, lust and perhaps love are unmistakably evident in his eyes. Elissa’s consciousness blinks; she’s trying hard to remember this, remember it on her own. We both hear Duke’s mother castigate him around her close friends whom I notice are also Nephilim.

“That’s why I
’d like you to stay here. Your station forbids you to go to her. Your dallies must remain discreet. Remember who you are and have care for
our name
and
our station
. She is an untitled girl who came to Duke Courcillion’s ball with a man who isn’t related to her!”

“Mother, she isn’t French or English. She’s American! We cannot expect her to be part of the peerage based class distinction when no peerage exists
on the continent! Besides, she has a chaperone with her.”

“Worse yet! She grew up among the savages who don’t even know Jesus! No title! And her father is in
the trades! Our station comes with money, title, prestige, vast lands, and prodigious power that command all of Europe, parts of Asia and North Africa. Is this power something you wish to give up?” she spits her poison, reminding him of her earlier threat. I remember hearing those words well when she first uttered them. I am a Nephilim; I could hear a whisper on the other side of the Grand Ballroom. I wanted to rip the bitch apart then and I realized that the feeling is only amplified seeing it replay once more. But, being aware of the Duke’s hatred, feeling it through his mind for his mother at this moment is something completely new. He wants Elissa regardless of what his mother thinks. His mind goes through the list of things he can do to keep his heritage and still have Elissa as his wife. Worry creeps over him. What if the peerage shuns Elissa and shuts her out? He is worried that she in return will shut him out. Can he live among the savages if it comes to leaving it all behind? He decides he can. I gaze at his well-manicured lily white hands, and shake my head. ‘
Two days on the road in the desert, and you’ll think differently,
’ thinks my former self. Duke’s current self slowly walks in front of us. Deliberately turning to both of us in such a grand move, Elissa’s current-self stops watching the events as they unfold, and stares at Courcillion.

“For you Elissa, I can and will do anything,” he murmurs looking at her, willing her to come to him leaving my side. I feel a surge of murderous jealousy for the way he feels for my wife,
my Elissa
. The fact is that he can express what she once meant to him and I can’t, is tormenting me inside.

The vision of his former self comes through Duke’s body as if walking through a wisp of smoke.

“Mother, we are in the middle of a revolution!” he reminds her.