by Lana Melyan
Every time he came back after a fight, she asked him every detail, making sure that he wasn’t badly injured, that he wasn’t in pain. Though Eleanor knew Craig was immortal, he could feel that she was always worried about him.
“It’s me who has to worry about you, not the other way around,” he told her once when he came back from the hunt a few days later than he had planned and found her anxious. “Nothing is going to happen to me. Only way for me to die is if my family decides to kill me, and I can assure you that it’s never going to happen, because we all love each other.”
“Then there is a way for you to die?” said Eleanor. “You never told me about it.”
Craig immediately regretted what he had said. He had been trying to calm her and had only made it worse.
“How?” asked Eleanor. “Is there some kind of weapon?”
“Samson and Fray, they have these daggers. They got them from the man who turned them. Those daggers can kill any of us who Samson turned, but not them. They’ll be badly injured, but they’ll recover. The blade is covered with golden symbols. That’s the incantation which breaks the enchantment, takes away the protection given us by the Book, and makes us mortal again.”
“Was it Samson who enchanted the daggers? Can he give power to objects too?”
“No, the Man did. Samson can only give power to living things, to beings that have blood. He turned our horses to make them faster.”
“What if somebody else found out how to read the incantations, could they use it?”
“It’s impossible. Samson is the only one who can read those symbols, and the incantation doesn’t work without the dagger.”
“Have they ever killed anybody of your family?”
“No, of course not,” Craig, who had been reclining on the bearskin with his head on Eleanor’s knees, stood up.
“Then how do you know it can kill?”
“It’s written in the Book.” He crouched in front of the fireplace to add more wood. “Besides that, as I’ve told you before, Samson chooses people, but he can never be absolutely sure if the person is good, that he can trust them enough to make them one of us and bring them into our family. For example, if Samson turned somebody who was dying after he did something that seemed to be right in that moment, but then it didn’t improve during the transition, Samson would use the dagger to stop the transformation.”
“You mean he’d kill that person.”
Craig nodded.
“But why?” asked Eleanor, “What does it mean ‘didn’t improve during the transition’?”
“If the person is good and there is no evil inside him, which means that he didn’t deceive or kill anybody, wasn’t cruel or violent, then the transition usually takes two days. But if their blood is dirty, as we call it, and the conscience is not clean, then transition will take much longer, and after the fourth day passes, Samson stops it. To give somebody like that power and immortality is very dangerous. You never know how they will use it.”
Eleanor didn’t speak for a moment, then she suddenly said, “My conscience is not clean. I am married to a man that I don’t love, and I am lying to him.”
“What?” Craig rose. “Eleanor, I was talking about evil. You are not evil—you are joy.”
Eleanor walked to him and put her arms around his neck.
“Try not to make them angry, all right?”
“I will do my best,” said Craig and kissed her.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” he whispered back.
It was the beginning of December. Brown leaves on the forest floor were stuck to each other and hammered into the dirt by past heavy rains. The air was cold and moist. Craig had been arriving at the lodge early to warm it up. Because of her pregnancy, Eleanor wasn’t allowed to ride a horse anymore. Craig began meeting her not far from the house, and together they would walk to the lodge.
They both knew that they’d need to think of some other way to see each other. Even though Eleanor didn’t want to admit it, it was becoming harder for her to walk all that way up to the hill. And although her husband was usually at work and knew nothing about her walks, Eleanor’s long absences in such unpleasant weather could arouse suspicion in the servants.
So far, they had been supported by a young maid, Luisa, whom Eleanor brought with her from her parents’ house and who knew about her mistress’ secret meetings. She would come out of the house with Eleanor, who always had a book with her. Then Luisa would go back in saying that Mrs. McLane was reading, and she would go after her later.
“Eleanor, I want to ask you something,” Craig said once, “While you can still come here, would you like to meet Gabriella and Hanna? They torture me every time I come home.”
“They want to meet me? Really?” asked Eleanor. Her face glowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If you don’t feel comfortable about doing it, say so. You don’t have to see them just to please me.”
“I would love to. I always wanted to, but didn’t dare ask.”
“You can ask me anything, you know that. And you can tell me anything.”
“There’s not much I can do for you, but you can ask me anything, too.”
“Can I?” said Craig. “Then why do you change the subject every time when I ask about Richard?”
“Because I don’t want to think about him when I’m with you.”
“Eleanor, all I want to know is if he’s being nice to you. I want to know that you’re safe with him and that he’s taking good care of you. He’s the one around you day and night.”
“He’s nice, you don’t have to worry about that. And the good news is we don’t see each other much. During the daytime, he’s busy with work and his friends, and at nights. . . .” she looked at Craig with smile. “You don’t need to worry about them, either. I told him I don’t feel comfortable sleeping in the same bed in my condition, and I chose the bedroom on the other end of the house.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Very soon, I won’t be able to come here anymore and this way, my bedroom window, which is looking into the backyard, will always be open for you.”
“Thank you. Then I don’t have to set vampires and werewolves on him to make his disappearance look like a horrible accident.”
Eleanor laughed, and Craig was already kissing her.
Next time, Craig came with Gabriella and Hanna, who immediately started asking questions about the baby and how the pregnancy was going. When the conversation turned to, “Craig has told us so much about you, he’s so worried,” Craig said, “I’ll be around,” and stepped outside.
When Gabriella and Hanna left, Craig walked Eleanor back. She looked happy.
Gabriella entered Craig’s room the moment he got home.
“I just came to tell you that I like her very much. I’m glad you found the one you’ve been waiting for.”
“I need to ask you something,” said Craig.
“Yes?” Gabriella sat down on his bed.
“Do you think I am doing the right thing by keeping in touch with her?” he asked in a low voice.
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“I mean, if she’s married and seeing another man . . .” he paused. “Her conscience is not clean, and it’s my fault.”
“You listen to me now,” said Gabriella seriously. “I had doubts about her before. I wondered if she really would agree to turn in order to be with you, or if she just said it because she knew that it’s impossible. Today, after I met her, my doubts are gone. She loves you so much she’ll do anything for you. Life has been unfair to her, and if you are the one she wants to be with. If you’re the one who makes her happy, then who cares about the conscience? She deserves to be happy, to love and be loved.”
A short silence followed, and then Craig said, “Thank you.”
“Oh, Craig.” Gabriella stood up and hugged him.
“I can’t live without her.”
“I know.”
Craig visited Eleanor’s bedroom as often as possible during the cold winter months.
The eleventh of March was Eleanor’s eighteenth birthday. Craig came earlier that day to give her his present and spend a little bit more time with her. He found her sitting alone on the backyard bench, just like many months ago when he saw her for the first time.
“I know it’s only been two days, but I missed you so much,” she said.
“I missed you, too.” He kissed her forehead then pulled out a vinous-colored, velvet, hexagonal box from his pocket. “I have something for you,” said Craig, opening the box.
Eleanor looked into it and saw a silver bracelet and ring. The bracelet consisted of eight small coins connected to each other by small golden loops. Each coin had a golden roman number and a golden circle with holes around each number. The ring had a coin, too, but its golden circle had small diamonds sticking out of it instead of holes.
“Oh, Craig, they’re so beautiful.” Eleanor smiled. She took the bracelet and examined it closely. “It looks like yours. Your bracelet—it also has coins with numbers.”
“Yes. Yours is for a woman, but for men . . . look.” Craig stretched out his hand. “The same coins are placed on the rectangular silver plates to make the bracelet bigger. Same as the coin on the ring, remember?” And he pointed on his finger.
“Yes, I remember,” said Eleanor and looked at the ring in the box.
“Eleanor, I know that you can’t wear it. But I want you to keep it somewhere close. This is not just jewelry. We all have one, and it helps us communicate with each other. Each number on these coins represents us in sequence according to age. Samson is the oldest—he is number one, then comes Fray—he is number two, then Riley, and so on. I’m number six. If we want to call each other, we have to press the diamonds on the ring to the holes on the bracelet coin. If I want to call Riley, I will push the ring first to my number, then to his. That way he knows who is calling him. I’ll push it once when I visit so you know I’m here. You don’t have a number, but if you’re alone and want me to come, push the ring to my number twice.”
Eleanor took the bracelet and ring and looked at them.
“How will I know that you pushed it?” she asked.
Craig pushed his ring to the number six on his bracelet, and a green light shone out from the sixth coin on Eleanor’s.
“Ah!” That little magic thrilled her, and she let out a short laugh. “Craig, but this one, this coin doesn’t have a number.”
“It’s the clasp. The clasp is an emergency coin. If someone pushes that one, red light will come out from all coins at the same time. That means that they need help or something very bad has happened.”
Craig noticed movement in the house and spoke faster.
“One more thing. When labor starts, push it three times. I want to know when it happens.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips.
“I will. Don’t worry, my love, I’ll be fine. I’m strong.”
“I have no doubt about that,” he said quietly. “I just want to be near.”
After the birthday, things became more complicated. A month before the delivery of the child, Eleanor’s mother decided to stay and look after her daughter herself. She asked to put her bed in Eleanor’s bedroom so she could be beside her day and night.
Craig stayed in the lodge all the next week, waiting for the right moment to see Eleanor. Every evening, he went down to the manor and watched Eleanor from behind the trees. She didn’t call him, and he could see why. The weather was good, and her family, sometimes with visitors, enjoyed warm evenings by having tea in the backyard, right in front of Eleanor’s bedroom window. She would leave the table earlier than the others. The moment she entered her bedroom, she would open the nightstand drawer and look into it. Craig knew what she was looking at, and he would press the ring to the bracelet, letting her know that he was there. He doubted that she could see him, but she sat on the bed and stared into the darkness of the woods until her mother came upstairs.
On the seventh day, the weather changed, and it finally began to rain. That evening, when Eleanor walked into the bedroom, the green light twice shone on Craig’s bracelet. Seconds later, he was standing in front of her and kissing her hands, her curls, her face and her tender lips.
“How do you feel, are you alright?” he asked, pulling back.
“Craig, I missed you so much, but there was nothing I could do.”
“I know.” He kissed her again. “I saw the doctor was here. What did he say?”
“He said everything is fine.”
“I’ll probably go home today. I haven’t been there in a week and Gabriella and Hanna are worried about you. They are waiting for news. But I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“Craig, I still have a month. You can’t stay in the lodge all that time.”
“I want to be close in case you need me.”
“I always need you.” She kissed him.
Everybody in the castle received the signals Craig and Eleanor sent to each other. To avoid confusion, Craig explained their meaning.
They already knew that Craig didn’t come home all those days because he was waiting for the chance to see Eleanor.
It was around midnight when he entered the castle, and they all came downstairs except Fray, who wasn’t home. He was hunting a couple of vampires in Virginia and didn’t want to take anybody with him because he might be there for a while.
Craig told them about Eleanor’s mother’s decision, and that she still had a month, and that the doctor said everything was fine. But even though everything seemed all right and Gabriella assured him it was too early to worry, Craig barely slept that night. He couldn’t relax knowing that he was twenty miles away from Eleanor. The next morning, even though he knew he couldn’t get too close to the house in daytime, he left right after breakfast.
He reached the lodge, jumped down from the horse, and patted it on the back.
“Don’t go too far, Gray,” he said. He remembered Eleanor when she had asked, “Why did you call your black horse Gray?” Then she answered her own question. “I know. It’s because of his gray eyes.”
Craig smiled. He patted the horse again and went down the hill. When he had walked almost half way, the number six on his bracelet shone with green light three times. Craig’s heart trembled. He stopped, looking at the bracelet in disbelief. Realizing that he hadn’t sent the answer, he pressed his ring to the coin and ran.
Panting, Craig stopped as close to the house as was possible and stared into the open window. All he could see was the nightstand and the edge of Eleanor’s bed. Eleanor’s mother, Luisa, and one other female servant were walking in and out, making preparations. The doctor was nowhere to be seen.
When half an hour passed and the doctor still wasn’t there, Craig decided to look in the front yard. He stood where there was a big open space between trees and he could view the road. Eleanor’s father and husband walked back and forth, looking agitated. Richard was saying something, heatedly waving his hand, and Eleanor’s father was nodding in response.
Craig paced between the trees nervously. The doctor showed up in Eleanor’s bedroom one hour later. Craig released a sigh of relief. The doctor, a thin tall man with gray hair, gave some orders to the servants and closed the window.
After a moment, Craig saw all three men together with Eleanor’s mother, coming out to the backyard. He sat behind the large oak, trying to catch every word they said.
“Mr. Douglas, only a day ago you said that there was still a month to go,” said Richard, irritated.
“Premature birth happens often. A day ago, she was feeling perfectly well, there was no sign that the baby would come ahead of time.”
“Is it dangerous?” asked Eleanor’s father.
“The baby can be a little bit more fragile, require more attention and care.”
“And Eleanor? What about Eleanor?” asked Eleanor’s mother.
“She is doing well righ
t now. I’ll be able to tell more after I examine her.”
“You examined her yesterday,” said Richard.
“Mr. McLane.” The doctor cleared his throat. “As you can see, things have changed since then.”
The doctor returned to the house, and all Craig could do was wait.
Time passed slowly, making Craig more miserable with every minute. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Eleanor was going to suffer, and there was nothing he could do. He wanted to see her so badly—he wanted to jump into the window, take her into his arms, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. But he couldn’t even do that.
He heard some bustling in the room from time to time, and his heart clenched. At those times, Eleanor’s father and Richard would come outside and stare at Eleanor’s window, and the fact that they also weren’t allowed to see her was somehow comforting to Craig.
It was getting dark. Craig felt a light breeze and the sky, which had been clear and sunny the whole day, began to shroud with gray clouds. There was more ado in the room now. Richard paced in the backyard, and Eleanor’s father stood with his hands folded on his back and periodically looking up at the window.
Then suddenly the door opened, and the doctor and Eleanor’s mother rushed toward them.
Mr. Douglas began to talk, and Craig held his breath, afraid missing a word.
“I’m a little bit worried.”
“Worried about what?” Richard demanded.
“The thing is . . .” Mr. Douglas looked back at Eleanor’s window and lowered his voice. “When I examined her yesterday, the position of the child was adverse, and it still is. We may have some complications.”
“Oh, God,” gasped Eleanor’s mother.
“Quiet,” grumped Richard. “Let’s go inside.”
Craig’s temples throbbed. One question pulsed through his head: was Eleanor’s life in danger?
During all those months, only once did the thought that she could die in childbirth cross his mind. He thought that maybe he could talk to Samson, ask him to turn her if such a thing happened. But to do so, Samson would have to unclasp the Book; he couldn’t come here with the chest. And besides that, how would they get into the house, and how would they explain it to her family?
