My Immortal

by Ginger Voight

  “You are not ready to know,” was the cold answer from Isabel. “Knowledge comes when we are ready, and not a moment before.”

  Adele ran her hand through her hair in exasperation. Isabel’s eyes lit up when she saw the bloody handkerchief. Isabel snatched Adele’s hand, holding it in both of her own. Her head leaned back and she made a low guttural noise in her throat, her eyes closed.

  As her head tilted forward, her eyes popped open the irises gone from stark black to milky white. “Dhampir!” she hissed.

  It startled Adele so much that she yanked her hand away, pulling the handkerchief free, as Isabel’s head thumped onto the table.

  Again the voices descended upon her. “Natasha…” they urged, stronger and louder now. The crystal ball before her filled with dark clouds and she could almost see his burning yellow eyes watching her from its depths. A laugh crackled in the electric air that caused her hair to stand on end as she drew closer to the ball. Her hands trembled as she gripped the cold crystal. She saw herself as she had in her dreams, in a long gown, arms outstretched as she floated through the thick forest. A wolf crossed her path and bared its fangs to warn the strange woman not to get any closer. The Adele in the ball turned to face her. With a hiss, fangs sprouted from her mouth and her eyes turned from violet to yellow. She pounced on the wolf and tore it apart in one ferocious bite and blood coated the inside of the ball until all images faded away.

  Not even stopping to see if Isabel was okay, Adele bolted from the room. She was terrified what other revelations awaited her there in that red velvet room. It was much more than her fragile mind could bear.

  She exploded into the Church of the Holy Sacrament, heading straight toward the confessional. If ever she needed to confess, it was that moment. She had realized from her experience with Isabel that things were not as logical as she had hoped. That meant Michael had not revealed her secret at all, nor likely had even known about it until the day she attacked him in the church. He had seemed so shocked by her behavior, but she had been too angry and too hostile to notice. She knelt down, fully prepared to ask Michael to forgive her for being such a jerk to him. Surely he’d understand; he’d known her long enough to know that she would jump to a logical conclusion before she’d believe some charlatan she’d never met.

  Now that the pieces of the puzzle were revealing a picture that suggested things like vampires, Adele was completely out of her element. But apparently Michael knew what to do, as evidenced by Dani’s injury-free neck.

  And he’d forgive her, thought Adele. He’d always forgiven her. That’s just what Michael did.

  That’s what love did.

  The partition slid open, followed by a greeting in a thick Irish brogue.

  “Where’s Father Michael?” she asked.

  “He’s gone,” the voice said. “I’m Father Destrahan.”

  “Gone?” Adele repeated, incredulous. How could Michael be gone? Where could he have gone? And what was she supposed to do without him? The idea filled her with panic. “Where can I find him?”

  “I don’t know, Miss. Are you sure there isn’t something I can do for you?”

  She almost laughed in his face. He’d have had her committed quicker than saying the Hail Mary. She just shook her head and exited the confessional.

  She returned back to Vincent’s shop, only this time she didn’t even attempt to talk to him. If she was truly on her own, she was going to get information the old fashioned way. She was going to steal it.

  She waited nearby for him to leave his store, and was a little surprised to see Denise join him as he locked up. This emotionless man looked happy to see the blonde. There was love there and it definitely unrequited.

  For a moment Adele felt sorry for him. What rotten luck for him, falling in love with the coldest bitch in town.

  Second only, of course, to the woman picking the lock and slipping into his vacated store.

  Adele slowly pulled the door shut, shushing the bell even though she knew she was alone. She made her way back behind the counter and pulled out the photo album full of clippings, going through them again searching for some kind of clue. When she flipped through to the very last page there were several loose photographs that she hadn’t noticed before. Adele examined them in horror.

  There were photos of Brenda, Adele, Michael and Dani.

  Her brow furrowed as she looked through them. Why only photos of her family? Why not photos of every victim’s family? Or every victim? She slammed the book shut and stashed it back under the counter. She dug around further under the counter, finally pulling out an old book in another language. She reached into her pocket for her phone, taking photos of the text to research later, then putting everything back as she found it before sneaking back out of the store.

  The wind whipped around her as she embraced herself, walking aimlessly down the street. The sun slowly set has she considered her options. She couldn’t go to Roman, he would never believe her now after what happened at the hospital. She couldn’t even begin to think about telling her mother, who was so paranoid she wouldn’t leave the house as it was.

  Normally she would have gone to Michael, but even he was gone. The thought fell like a brick in her stomach. He was gone because she had driven him away. And now who could she go to? Who would be there the minute she called, to save her from her weakest moments? Who would be her soft place to fall? Who would love her?

  Who did love her?

  Her heart led the way. Adele's path led straight to the Grand Royale Hotel. She didn’t ring in, she didn’t wait for the bodyguards to escort her to the penthouse. In fact she didn’t even use the elevator. She took the stairs two at a time to get to Nicholas.

  She pounded on the door, her heart matching the tempo. If she could just see him, she thought, everything would be okay. That was just how it worked. She looked into his eyes and the horrors surrounding her life simply melted away. If she could just be with him, lost in his eyes, warm in his arms, the world would be right again.

  Thaddeus opened the door. He was pleased to see the woman before him. “Miss Lumas,” he greeted, offering her a smile. “Do come in.”

  She inched by him as he crowded the doorway. As always his eyes put her off her game. But it wasn’t just their unusual coloring, it was something deeper. Adele recognized the look. He wanted her, girlfriend of the boss or not. His lust was palpable. “Is Nicholas around?” she asked, stepping farther away from him.

  “He’s not available at the moment,” crooned Thaddeus. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  She shook her head at the suggestive comment.

  “Perhaps you’d like to wait for him,” Thaddeus suggested. She nodded and he gestured toward the sitting room. “Would you like anything to drink?”

  “Coffee would be great,” Adele said, rubbing the throbbing scratch on her hand, which drew his attention.

  “That looks like a nasty injury.”

  She shrugged it off. “Just a scratch.”

  “Very well,” Thaddeus said before quietly exiting the room to prepare her coffee.

  Adele sighed as she moved about the sitting room that looked out over the city. In the night, the black inky darkness of the outlying forest stretched on as far as the eye could see. Thinking of the wolf the night before, Adele shuddered and hugged herself as she turned away from the window. All she could see now was the vampire Adele in the crystal ball tearing a wolf to shreds.

  When she looked down at her hands she realized that her wound had opened and begun to bleed, staining her pale hands with her dark blood. She glanced around to find something to clean herself, noticing a box of tissue sitting on a desk across the room.

  As she pulled several tissues from the box, she happened to notice the paperwork that was littered across the marble top. With her uninjured hand she picked up a piece of paper with letters and words from magazines pasted on to read, “All monsters must die.”

  As Adele lifted it for closer inspection she revea
led something underneath. It was an envelope, the paper old, crackling and yellow. Across the front was a word she didn’t recognize, and a name. Nicholai. Just as she reached for it a voice breathed down her neck, “Your coffee, miss.”

  Adele jumped and whirled around. Thaddeus stood there with a knowing smile. A sudden flash of a picture of those eyes and that mouth near her own made her skin nearly crawl from her bones. Adele stammered all over herself as she made a hasty retreat. “You know... I really shouldn’t intrude. Please give Nicholas my apologies.”

  As she sprinted toward the door, Thaddeus called after her. “Nicholas will be insulted if you do not wait for him.”

  She shut the door on the warning.

  Michael stood on the doorstep of Adele's apartment. He started to knock, but then hesitated and turned away. Just as quickly he turned back again. He needed to see her, needed to talk to her, needed to convince her that he could never betray her. No matter how mad at him she was, he simply couldn’t accept that it was over. He just needed to see her again and know that where it counted, she was still his. He had almost summoned the courage to knock when a strong male voice interrupted.

  “Can I help you?”

  Michael turned to see Nicholas standing behind him on the stoop. Nicholas eyed the collar around Michael’s neck as Michael stammered, “I’m here to see Adele. She’s a friend.”

  Nicholas’s face broke apart in a nice charming smile that made Michael sick. What a cool character this was, Michael thought. Adele wouldn’t stand a chance. “Any friend of Adele’s is a friend of mine,” purred Nicholas as he extended a hand. “I’m Nicholas.”

  “Sterling,” Michael finished. “I recognize you from the news piece Addie did. How's the logging company coming?”

  “About the same as the God business,” Nicholas smirked. “On a wing and a prayer. I didn’t get your name.”

  “I didn’t offer it.” For a priest Michael was extremely unwelcoming. He couldn’t afford not to be. There was something definitely amiss about the man standing a mere foot away. They had a brief stare down before Michael silently took off down the steps. With a slight smile Nicholas called after him, “Would you like me to let Addie know you came by?”

  Michael stopped. What right did this stranger have to call Adele by Michael’s name? To add insult to injury Nicholas added, “It’s no bother, really. We’re going out tonight.”

  Without turning around Michael stalked off.

  When Adele arrived at her apartment, Nicholas still waited, seated on the steps. She was so grateful to see him she threw her arms around him and practically jumped into his embrace.

  “That’s a hello I could get used to,” he murmured against her skin.

  “How did you know I needed to see you?” she murmured back.

  “I’ll always know when you need me,” he promised before kissing her gently. Neither one of them were aware that mere yards away Michael watched from the bushes, his heart cracking to pieces in an instant.

  Nicholas swooped her up into his arms and carried her into her apartment, closing the door on the forlorn spy. Michael wanted to know just how far this thing had gone, but he didn't know if his heart could withstand seeing the woman he’d always loved in the passionate embrace of another man. Certainly not that man.

  How could she be so foolish? How could she not see she was being played? Although he had to admit that Nicholas played a convincing game. Even Michael believed for a moment that he loved her. His face lit up as she arrived, as though he’d been waiting for her forever. The smooth operator Michael had encountered was replaced by a hopeless romantic hero.

  No wonder someone so naïve in the ways of the heart was so easily fooled. And Michael knew that he had been replaced by someone who could touch her and hold her and love her without fear.

  Something that Michael had long since been unable to do.

  He turned, shoulders slumped, and walked away from a place he knew he no longer belonged.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Inside the apartment, Adele sat snuggled under a blanket as Nicholas brought her a warm cup of tea. “Here you go. A cure for what ails you.”

  She offered a smile. “And this really will help me sleep?”

  “Never fails. You’ll sleep deep with peaceful dreams.” He sat next to her. She was quick to curl up next to him.

  “That’s good. I could use a break from the nightmares.”

  He stroked her hair. “What scares you, Addie?”

  “Lots of stuff,” she admitted.

  He chuckled. “And I thought my ice princess was fearless.”

  “About some things,” she said. “But other things terrify me.” It was a confession she would have never made to anyone, much less someone she barely knew.

  “And these are the nightmares?”

  She shrugged. “The nightmares are a different kind of scary. They’re unsettling more than anything else. I dream of hallways full of locked doors, dead children and crazy psychics.”

  “Psychics?”

  “Long story.” She sipped her tea. “What are you afraid of, Nicholas?”

  “Loss.” He looked so sad as he said it. “I never want to lose love again. I couldn’t bear it.”

  Adele easily captured the tear that teetered at the corner of his eye with her fingertip. “How did she die?” she finally asked softly.

  “She got sick,” he answered flatly. “She got sick and I couldn’t save her. There’s nothing worse,” he said, looking her in the eye. “Absolutely nothing worse.”

  She nodded. Her eyes began to droop heavily and he took the tea from her hands. “You’re worn out,” Nicholas scolded. “You should get some rest.”

  She nodded again. The idea sounded wonderful. She wrapped herself around him before he could rise from the sofa. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

  “Never,” he whispered back and held her tight.

  She snuggled close and closed her eyes, comforted by the steady beat of his heart. Before she knew it she had drifted to sleep. She found herself drifting down the same hallway with many locked doors, only this time one was ajar. Adele gently pushed it open, finding herself swept into an ornate ballroom, filled with people dressed in fine clothes from the Victorian era. It was a formal cotillion from another age.

  Adele sucked in a breath as she glanced at the high vaulted ceilings where bejeweled chandeliers hung. There were elegant archways and majestic columns in all corners of the huge room. Gentle strings from a live orchestra played, and the expensive satin and silk swished in time to the music as people waltzed across the floor.

  As she passed through the crowd people would turn to her and bow slightly. She felt herself nodding and smiling in response as she seemed to glide along the room.

  Adele caught a glimpse of herself in a huge oval mirror just above a burning fireplace. She barely recognized herself and had to examine her image for a minute to even realize she was looking into a mirror, instead of another person altogether.

  She wore a full gown of rustling red silk with white lace, her cleavage bound up high and tight by the corset that she wore. She wore white silk gloves up to her elbows and diamonds and rubies dripped from her neck. Piles of material floated behind her as the ruffles to her dress cascaded from her hips and down to the floor, and in front of her the red fabric parted to a waterfall of white lace. Her pitch black hair swept back, the white stripe down the middle barely noticeable under a heavy diamond studded tiara she wore.

  Most striking of all it didn’t look or feel like a costume. People bowed to her as she passed between them.

  Then, as if she knew exactly where to go, her feet carried her to the other end of the room where a man waited, his back to her.

  He was dressed as elegantly as she was, in a formal long black jacket that fit his broad shoulders and tapered off around his knees. His long brown was hair tied back from his broad shoulders. As though he sensed her approach he turned and she realized it was Nicholas. He wore the
same fine fabric as she, a white silk shirt with satin ruffles poking out of his red silk vest. The people around him treated him with the same reverence they displayed to her.

  However she easily forgot about the other people. The music faded to a low hum and her peripheral vision blurred. All she could hear was her heart thundering in her ribcage, pounding out one name and one name only. In that moment, only she and Nicholas remained in the crowded, noisy ballroom. Without hesitation she melted into his arms and he immediately swung her into a waltz, similar to the one they shared at Gerard’s. They danced beautifully around the room, flying fast around the others who seemed to be frozen in time. Faster and faster they twirled until she was giddy with laughter. He spun her out onto a terrace lit bright by the full moon.

  “I love you, my wife,” he said when she finally caught her breath.

  “I am not yet your wife,” she reminded him with a coy grin.

  He lifted her left hand, which was adorned with a large ruby ring. “In my heart, we are one.” He bent for a kiss. In the distance cannon fire interrupted the stillness. She gasped and turned toward the sound but Nicholas gently turned her face back to him. “There is no need to be afraid. I am here. I will always be here.”

  She nodded as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

  Adele’s eyes popped open, finding herself in her bed in her darkened bedroom. Covers were tucked around her chin and she could still smell Nicholas’s cologne on her clothes. “I will always be here,” he echoed from her dream. With a smile, she drifted off to sleep feeling safe and loved, and finally at peace.

  It was the direct opposite of what Michael felt as he walked down the deserted Darlington street on his way back to the church. In the space of a few weeks his life had completely imploded. The child he loved nearly died, and the woman he loved kicked him to the curb all over an unfortunate misunderstanding.

  But how could he blame her for thinking what she thought of him? How could anyone like Adele, who sought reason over fancy, believe that Isabel could have known so painful and horrific an origin without being told? And who else could have possibly known such a secret in order to tell her? There was no one closer to Brenda and Adele than Michael.