“Blood is blood, my love,” came his bored reply. I revealed myself from my lace confines. I stared down at him, my face expressionless. His blue eyes penetrated my soul.
“Even contaminated blood Everard?” I snapped, “She was a drug user. Could you not smell it?”
A cocky look crossed his alabaster face, “Of course, I could smell it!” he retorted sharply. My eyes narrowed down at him.
“Fool!” I hissed and turned away from him, striding back into the living room. I knew his eyes followed.
“What are you doing here anyway?” His silken voice questioned authoritatively. “Shouldn’t you be back in London?”
“I should,” I answered, “I am leaving tonight.” And then the cocky vampire laughed as he rose to his feet. Hair in disarray, shirt revealing his body. These were the actions of a troubled vampire that I knew all too well.
“You won't go.” He sneered.
“Why won't I?” I questioned harshly. This I wanted to hear. Slowly he approached me in the living room. The scent of the girl’s blood was still strong upon his lips.
“You have too much here that you don’t wish to leave behind.”
“And you're certain of that are you?”
“Yes,” he snapped impatiently. “Paris is your true home. Not London. you belong here, not there. A Paris vampire always remains close to home.” His blue sparkled.
“I go where I see fit,” was all I answered, my voice emotionless. For a long while, he studied me in silence. He was still angry, I could feel it.
“Why have you come back here? You made it clear that you wanted no part in this.”
At his words, I sat down. why did I go back? I answered, “I came back of my own accord.” An arrogant smirk crossed his face as he began to pace the room.
“Is that so? Two centuries and not one word of your existence until you received a letter from me, and only now you decide to visit me?”
For once I didn’t have a reply to his sarcasm. I didn’t know why I had come back. I suddenly wished I was in London, away from here, and away from him.
“Do not flatter yourselfEverard” I said coldly. “I can assure you that I have not returned out of my love for you.” He drew closer; I backed away. He laughed a mocking laugh at my actions.
“Brave of you to admit such a lie so fondly.” He chastised me as he all but fell into the silken bedclothes, resuming the position that he had when I first entered the château. I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know what I was doing. In my mind, I whispered Kyles name. I don't know why I thought of him, but as soon as the name crossed my mind I wished that I could take it back.
*****
Everard looked up at me sharply. A rage burned in his blue eyes. For a moment, I stared at him dumbfounded, uncertain as to why he was looking at me with such malice. “What?” His velvet voice snapped at me. I blinked.
“What?” I whispered a little breathlessly. His frown deepened.
“You said his name.”
I frowned, confused. “Whose name?”
“You know damned well whose name!” he hissed. I realized what he meant.
“Kyle?” I rasped. His reply was a curt nod before he tore his eyes away from mine.
“Is that why you’ve come back? To gloat?To mock?”
Testing my patience, I approached him before perching myself on the armchair opposite him. He couldn’t look at me, and it was at that moment that I realized that my lover was ashamed at what he had done. A sick satisfaction took hold of me. I was glad he was disgusted with himself. That’s why he was angry. He was angry at himself.
“I don’t know why I have come here,” I 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. I tensed.
“Drop the façade Everard!” I scolded, “It serves you ill to speak so childishly.” He shot me a glare that was enough to kill me.
“You really have exceeded yourself in what you have done.” I 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, he got his feet. My maker detested nothing more than to be spoken to like a child. But he knew I was right. I 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.” My answer provoked him. Good.
“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 I raised my chin as his meaning caught my attention. So he was aware of what his duty was to me. He was such a damned good liar. He laughed at my 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?”
I dug my nails into the soft plush of the armchair. My mind raced at what Everard uttered. Kyle was the one who was insisting on my death? The young fledgling that I had grown to love? He was my companion, but he could never fill the void of losing my noble lord. That was the bitter truth. I was still loyal to Everard but too selfish to admit my feelings to him.
“I have no purpose to you.” I tried to sound as if I was not afraid but the way that he suddenly looked at me was unnerving. He 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 nightmare also has a purpose.” His face grew dark, hateful. “So what is it?”
I wanted to leave. Wanted to flee. For two hundred years I had not once been afraid of my lover until that moment. For once I actually saw my immortal lover for what he was: a monster.
“I told you,” I whispered. He was stalking close to me. I did not move. Could not.
“Ah yes, of course, my blood.” He stopped in front of me before biting hard into his wrist. I had not expected his reaction but no sooner had he bitten into his dead flesh, his wrist was it at my mouth forcing me to drink, drowning me in powerful blood. I didn’t drink it.
Forcefully I ripped myself from out of his vice-like grip and launched myself at him like a crazed animal. I was furious, livid, outraged by his blasphemous behavior. His back hit the stone wall with a crack. His fangs bared in wild insanity. He was stronger than I thought, and I was thrown into the cold stone wall, my fangs bared at him in hate.
“You foolish, foolish girl!” He hissed at me, pinning me closer to the wall. “You dare attack me? Me! Have you forgotten who I am?”
“Have you forgotten who I am?” I retorted with equal venom in my tone. He didn’t release me.
“I know all too well who you are! I created you, you insufferable fool!”
“Release me,” I threatened. My anger rose to the point where I was capable of destroying him. Everard arched an eyebrow in cockiness.
“Are you threatening me, my love?” He mocked.
“I will not ask again.” My immortal lover all but practically slammed me into the wall before he released me. I 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 I knew that my words had struck a nerve.
“You dare speak of such things?” He hissed lowly.
“Yes!” I 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?” I stopped before continuing slowly, disdainfully. “How can you face me when you know that we have a history of pain and suffering?”
He bristled like I knew he would. My words had power. I stepped closer to him, playing the arrogant vampire at his own game. I was the only one brave enough to attempt such an act.
“Hmm.” I laughed slowly, mockingly into his ear. His back was to me. “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.”
He didn’t face me when he spoke. “Do you?” He answered darkly, “And what is the reason, pray tell?”
It was simple. “You are afraid.” He whirled around so fast then in a white mist that even my preternatural eyes could not see his movements. Eyes of clear blue stared into mine like ice daggers, sharp and menacing.
“And what am I afraid of, dear August?” He roared. When I 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!”
I didn’t move. “Fool!” He hissed again, teeth bared. “Do you have a death wish?” I found the pun amusing.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told him calmly, which only enraged him more. I knew what was coming next. My determination always brought out the evil within him. He despised being challenged, confronted. Everard liked to think that he was the superior one.
Cold hands wrapped firmly into my hair he dragged me over to the bed where the dead whore lay. I could have chosen to fight him. I could have killed him, and he could have killed me. That moment I thought he was going to, but I 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 me on the bed. He threw himself over me, pinning me down, trying to intimidate me. A long time ago it would have worked.
Silence prevailed between us as we lay together like two lovers locked in hatred. It had been centuries since we had been so close, so intimately close. When mortal, my handsome lord often showered me with his affection and would make love to me endlessly under the waxing moon.
When he was made immortal, all human desires died away with the body rendering us no longer able to love as mortals love.
Even though we are immortal, we still feel love. We are still able to kiss, caress the other’s cold, dead skin, whisper poetry, dance and laugh. All those emotions do not abandon us. What we choose to feel, we feel. And so when Everard chose to abandon love and accept hate into his heart, I chose to abandon my love for him and accept my new love for my fledgling. My beautiful young fledgling who was conspiring against me. Damn him!
I lay in his bed, surrounded by his hard body. In our silence, his eyes looked into mine. I watched him, respecting and resenting the regal figure that pinned me to his blood-stained silken sheets all at the same time.
Anger still burned intensely in his eyes, though his expression had now become serene. At that moment, he almost looked like a porcelain doll. I wanted to share in his anger with him, to share his grief, his pain. I wanted to open myself up to him, to cradle his black head in my lap, caress him as a mother caresses her child. But I knew that what I felt was madness.
As if he could read my thoughts, my eternal lover relaxed slightly. Slowly, tenderly, he raised his hand and placed it on my face. His action surprised me, but I showed no such emotion. I merely allowed him to do this, while my eyes watched his every move.
“Why do we do this?” He suddenly whispered to me. All traces of anger gone.
“Do what?” I answered.
“Pretend that we are no longer companions.” His fingers began to trace my jawline. Gentle, careful, as if I were made of marble.
“Because we are not, Everard.” It was a bitter-sweet revelation that made me feel sad. “We have not been for many a century.”
“But we could be,” He whispered leaning closer to my face. I inhaled his scent. So intoxicating and powerful that he sent me into overdrive. “Again.”
“And what madness has possessed you to think of such a thing?” I breathed as he toyed with my 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,” I whispered gently, my own anger lost. We were actually communicating now, and I did not know why. The whole situation unnerved me. This was not the Everard I knew.