Eternal 2: Eternal Obssession

by Ann Lory

  Following the sounds of music, she found Jacques in a ballroom on the opposite side of the castle, although it was still on the first level. The gray marble floor shone softly from the gentle glow of the chandeliers above. The crystal dipped and swayed from the night breeze invited in by the open windows lining one wall. Portraits and French landscapes lined opposite walls, and a large stage for an orchestra sat at the far side of the ballroom, full of various instrument cases. That was also where a black grand piano rested and where Jacques was seated.

  She moved toward him, unable to take her eyes from the rich brown hair falling over his shoulders, the sway of his body, or the mesmerizing picture of him so engrossed in his music. His fingers nimbly moved over the keys, and the tune he played seemed to weave its way around her heart. The melody was aching, as if his soul spoke through his hands and the piano. Shivers danced up her spine.

  Kelly reached the instrument, disappointed when he abruptly stopped playing. Then she stepped back in surprise when he slammed the cover down over the keys, causing a reverberating crash. He gazed up at her, his dark eyes speaking volumes of his anger and uncertainty.

  “Why do you want to be vampire?” His words were abrupt, and she winced.

  “I love you, and I want us to be together.” When he didn’t answer, she moved around the piano to him, laid her fingers on his arm. “Is that so wrong?”

  He spun away from her touch, rising swiftly to his feet. “Sit,” he replied curtly, motioning toward the cushioned seat. She did as he bade, assessing him curiously, until he spoke again.

  “Kelly...” He cursed, ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Jacques, it’s okay. Just talk to me.”

  He came down on his knees in front of her, his arms circling her waist and pulling her to him. “I love you with every fiber of my being, but I cannot simply make you as I am. This isn’t something to take lightly or to decide in an instant. Have you thought about how this might affect your dancing?” His voice was soft.

  Kelly pushed away, bewildered. “Who says this was a quick or light decision? How can you say these things if you love me? I thought you’d be happy. And yes, I have thought about what this may mean for my career, but we’ll work it out. I have some significant pull now that I am the prima ballerina, and, well, maybe you could do a mind trick or two if needed.”

  His response confused her by its abrupt change in topic.

  “I was born in the early fourteenth century in my parents’ room in this very castle. This has been my home for more than seven hundred years. Do you know what that means?” He looked desolate, a great sadness in his eyes that she had never seen before. Kelly shook her head, and tears filled her eyes; she instinctively lifted her hand to his cheek.

  Once more, he wrenched away from her. “I buried my entire family. Everyone, Kelly. This life has not been all darkness, but the truth is that I should be as dead as they are. I’m not. Instead, I thrive and live on the life of others. You refuse to see it, but the hunger is always there.”

  Kelly shot to her feet. “What you are is a wonderful man, one whom I love. Nothing you say will make me believe anything else.”

  He smiled sardonically, moving away from her. “In the summer of the year 1348, Paris was overcome with the Black Plague, already weakened by the Great Famine that had preceded it only twenty-six years before. The smell of death filled the streets ‑‑ and the bodies filled it even quicker.” He looked into her horrified eyes and, for the first time, she could see the memories of his soul...

  1348, Paris, France

  Jacques walked down the filthy cobblestone streets and made his way slowly toward where his family was staying with his mother’s sister and husband. They had come to take his aunt and uncle back with them to the country, but they had arrived too late; the city had been quarantined, and no one could leave or enter because of the plague.

  A cart carrying bodies passed him, and Jacques felt his stomach churn at the sight of the helpless victims of this... this what? Some said it was a punishment from God. Others thought the cause was evil people. The healers couldn’t decide if it was a disease or the act of a higher power. The only things that were determined to be true for everyone was that it did not care if you were noble or common peasant; it seemed to strike without warning, and it killed you relatively quickly.

  Jacques knew he was affected and so was his family. He had felt the ominous swellings at his neck, armpits, and groin, and the fever had begun in him. He’d already grown weaker and was aware that his days were numbered. His intended and her entire family had died a few short weeks ago. He’d not loved her as a man should his bride, but his heart ached just the same for her fate. But that knowledge didn’t tear at his heart as much as the fact that all four of his sisters, so young and beautiful, were going to die horribly. They had been vomiting blood and suffering high fevers for three days now. Meanwhile, he had been urgently searching for a way out of the city to take his family home so they could die on their land, in their home.

  Jacques looked into the night sky and thought how cruel the world was; he wondered if God really was punishing them all.

  He heard the call to bring out the dead as he stepped over the bloated bodies of those that had died, but whom the cart had not picked up yet. Carcasses lined the streets; some people had died where they fell; others were tossed out like so much refuse. The stench of disease and rotting flesh was stultifying.

  Reaching his destination, Jacques hurried up the stone steps and pushed open the door. Instantly, the smell of death slammed into him. He raced inside and found his Aunt Lenora lying at the foot of the stairs. The black discolored swellings at her neck had burst, staining the front of her ivory gown and spreading under her arms. A thread of dried blood lined her legs.

  His heart hammered wildly in his chest as he rushed upstairs and through each room. His Uncle Pierre stared with unseeing eyes by a cold hearth in his parlor. His mother was sprawled on the floor in a bedroom, his father across the bed. Even as a wail burst from him, he pelted down the hall and found three of his sisters dead in their beds.

  Where was Gisella? Becoming even more frantic, Jacques called out for her, hoping, praying, that she would answer. Then he entered the playroom, crying out in denial.

  The small chandelier above her did not sparkle or move. The Reaper had robbed the shimmering light from everything beautiful here, including his youngest sister. He sobbed deep in his throat as he walked over to the settee and knelt down by Gisella. Only seven years old, she had once been full of life and joy; now she lay cold, her twinkling blue eyes hollow, her favorite doll still clutched to her small chest. Crushing her tiny body to him, his body racked with harsh cries, Jacques willed himself to die.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there, tenderly cradling his sister to him, rocking back and forth. After a time, he wearily wiped the tears from his eyes and rose to his feet, Gisella still in his arms. He walked slowly toward the entrance of his aunt and uncle’s home and watched as a man began collecting bodies from the street. At the moment, there were only a few corpses in his wagon.

  Jacques set his face like granite. Approaching the cart, he placed his sister in a clear area; then, with great tugs, he pulled out one body after another from the cart, letting them hit the ground hard, lifeless.

  The owner of the wagon yelled, waved his hands in the air, and ran toward Jacques, who ignored him. He lovingly laid his sister on the rough wood, taking his time spreading her ruined, soft blue dress around her as if she were a princess who was just resting. Then he faced the man who was shouting curses at him.

  Jacques pulled the short sword from its sheath at his waist and wedged the blade along the man’s throat. The man stopped all movement at once and stared wide-eyed up at him.

  “What are you doing, monsieur?”

  Barely keeping his rage and voice under control, Jacques stared determinedly into the man’s eyes. “I will bury my family. They will not be taken away on the bodies
of others.”

  “What difference does it make? We are all dead, anyway.”

  Jacques’s hand shook as he applied slight pressure and watched when blood began to trickle down the other man’s neck. “I am coming back with the rest of my family. If this wagon is gone when I return, I will hunt you down, and you will wish death had taken you first.” He lowered his weapon slowly.

  The man inched backward, then turned and fled.

  Replacing the sword in its sheath, Jacques re-entered the house and, one by one, brought out his family and carefully laid each one in the wagon bed. When his father, the very last of his blood, was positioned to Jacques’s satisfaction, Jacques climbed onto the seat and urged the horse through Paris until they went through the iron gates of a park his family frequented on walks and where his sisters and he used to play as children whenever they’d visited his aunt. If he could not bury his family on their land, then they would be buried in a place that had brought them joy. This was the only place he would consider a proper resting place for them. He dropped to the ground, secured the wagon, and hobbled the horse. Then he pulled the shovel from the cart, found a section of fresh green grass, and began to dig.

  He went at it for several hours, his body trembling under the strength and energy required for his self-imposed task, but his determination drove him on. By the time he was done, his dark locks had loosened, hanging limp over his face, and he was covered in grime and sweat ‑‑ he was also profusely vomiting black fluid and clots. Climbing from the deep hole he’d made, he waited for his stomach to cease heaving before he laid his loved ones in their grave.

  His uncle and aunt went first, then his father and mother. He placed kisses on their brows, and let his fingers graze over their cheeks. Turning away, he then brought his sisters and lay them over his parents. He folded each sister’s hands delicately over her belly and kissed each one tenderly.

  Tears once again blurred his vision as he gazed down at his beloved family. They had not deserved this terrible death, none of them. Clasping his hands in front of him, he spoke a silent prayer before grabbing the shovel with sore hands.

  The first clump of the dirt hitting his family caused his heart to constrict with agony. As he continued to pile the soil over the faces and bodies of those he loved, he was overcome with grief. He shook with it, sobbing openly.

  When the last shovelful of earth dropped over the freshly covered mound, he roared in despair, tossed the shovel away, and fell to his back on top of grave, staring up at the sky. Death was coming for him; he wanted to embrace it, to leave the pain that had taken root in his soul and was clawing at what remained of him. Closing his eyes, he became limp, silently listening to the sound of his heart pounding in his head, waiting for it to slow, to stop, so that he could join his family.

  Some time later, a soft, sultry laugh filled the air around him. When he lifted his eyelids, it was to find a woman with golden-blond hair and pale, perfect features standing above him. She was beautiful, but when he looked into the black chill of her eyes, he slowly sat up and began to scoot away from her. “What are you doing here?”

  She seemed to find his question amusing. “Why, monsieur, the night is mine, of course.”

  He looked at her wearily. “You should not be here. The plague is festering within me, growing. Leave this place while you still have your health.”

  The woman ignored him, inexplicably coming down to the ground beside him. “No, my lord, I am right where I am supposed to be.” Her black eyes seemed to catch him, hold him spellbound. “I saw what you did for your family; I admire men such as yourself, willing to take what must be done into your hands.”

  Jacques shook his head, averting his gaze. “This situation is not like that.”

  Her lily-white hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes, even as she gently brushed away the dark strands of hair from his face. “It is exactly like that. I want you to have more than a ghastly death.” Her words were suggestive, and her actions even more so, as she traced his lips with one long, scarlet nail and ran the tip down to the base of his neck. Her tongue licked over her bright red lips, and she smiled as she stared at his pulse.

  “What is it you want?” Jacques pushed her hands away. “Leave me in peace, woman.” He gasped in amazement as her smile of delight unexpectedly revealed fangs, which she didn’t attempt to shield. Her eyes seemed to burn brightly into his, and he cried out when she pushed him onto his back with little effort, covering him with her body.

  “I want you.” She laughed as she lifted fingers that curled into talons. She brought them down and punctured his neck in one quick swipe. Jacques could feel his blood pour from the wounds, the warmth of it spreading past his throat and drenching his collar and back. He coughed and tried to roll away from her, but she held him fast and wiped his brow in a gesture that was anything but soothing. His body began to grow cold, his thoughts hazy, and his limbs lethargic. He waited for blessed death to take him away.

  Finally she shifted and stared hard at him. Jacques sensed a prickling in his mind. He thought without interest that she would deliver the final blow now. “I offer you life, Jacques, life as you have never known it.”

  He turned his head away from her.

  “You think you do your family justice by dying? They would want you to live, to remember them, to carry on their memory.” The creature roughly yanked his face around to her, then scooped up a handful of dirt. “If you don’t exist any longer, everything dies with you... everything. Who will be here to remember them, eh?” She let the soil sift through her fingers. “They will be but dust in the wind, blowing away until finally they are gone and forgotten for all eternity.”

  Jacque froze; her words ringing within his head. His loved ones with no one to honor and treasure the memories of them. His father’s name dying with Jacques. These thoughts were more than he could bear.

  She smiled and nodded as she watched understanding penetrate him. Stroking his head, she kissed his lips, laughing at the disgust he couldn’t hide. The woman cut her wrist and held it to his mouth. “I am your maker, Gabriella Delancré, and I gift you with the wonder of my life.”

  Jacques’s mouth covered the wound and he drank, barely registering what he was doing. He only knew that he had to carry on his family name, he had to remember those he loved...

  Kelly covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Jacques, I am so sorry for your suffering.”

  “I have lost much in my life, and I have done much that I am not proud of, but today I know who and what I am.” His eyes were intense as they stared into hers. “I love you, but can you stand for your eyes to be a soulless black? Will you allow your lips to be stained with the blood of others?”

  Kelly gripped his arm. “Jacques, my family is gone. I have no one but Cassie, her family, Dimitri, and now you. You are all I need; the rest is not important.”

  He shook his head

  “I will grow old and die. Will you bury me, too?”

  He sucked in a breath that sounded like a hiss, and his eyes shone like sparkling onyx. “I can’t bear the thought of that, either. I can never give you children; I can never walk in the sunlight with you. Would you willingly give up babies and daylight to be with me? What if you change your mind? There is no going back afterward.”

  She would have laughed had he not looked so tormented. “I would give up anything for you, Jacques, including my life. You are my world, my night and my day. I won’t change my mind. I know this is what I want, what will make me happy. I love you.”

  He shuddered. “I’m sorry, but I still cannot do it.”

  His whispered apology was like thunder to her ears; she knew he would not be swayed from his decision. She stepped away from him, her mind reeling. What was she to do? Stay with him until her dying day? When she grew old, would he still want her?

  Kelly knew Jacques had been reading her thoughts when he grasped her hands. “I will always want you, always, but I cannot live wit
h your hate should you decide being vampire isn’t what you really want.”

  “It’s my choice.”

  “It is mine as well, and I say no.” He sighed. “You must leave. It was insane for me to think this could work, to believe in such a fantasy. I want you to find someone to love and grow old with. Have children with.”

  Kelly flinched. “No.”

  He cupped her face. “Yes.” He looked toward the window, then back. “There is not much time as it is almost dawn. Return to the States today, and don’t look back.”

  His lips found hers, and she melted against him, mind and emotions overwhelmed. His tongue stroked her lower lip, then caressed her mouth and tongue. She met every demand, every delicate touch as he possessed her, then just as abruptly, he pulled away.

  “I’ll take care of Mussek. Know that you’ll have nothing to fear from him again.” He studied her for a moment longer. “Good-bye, Kelly. Thank you for everything.” Then he swiftly walked away from her, leaving her alone in the ballroom as the first ray of the sun struck her.

  Warmth surrounded her, but it could not touch the ice she felt inside. By turns heartbroken and enraged, she pounded from the room, racing toward the entrance of the castle. Quintin watched her with sad eyes as he held the door open for her, clearly waiting to take her back to the hotel.

  Fresh tears filled her eyes and a sob threatened to burst from her chest as she climbed into the passenger-side seat. She turned away from Quintin as he drove and watched the countryside passing by through swollen eyes. Jacques had pushed her away. Again. He had rushed out of her life, but at least this time he had said good-bye.