Eternally Bound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  The baby listened, twitching and fussing as he fought to awaken. Mary came close, hovering protectively with her arms ready to strike should anything happen. Tatiana ignored her. William’s eyes opened, the blue orbs so clear and bright in his small head.

  “He’s beautiful,” Tatiana said, looking up at Marcello. A strange emotion crossed his face, and he nodded. To her surprise, she felt him stiffen as he turned his back to gaze out of the window.

  Holding the child with one arm, she lifted her finger to her mouth and bit it. A drop of blood surfaced. Mary paled as Tatiana offered her finger to the baby.

  “What are you doing?” Mary demanded.

  “Shh,” Tatiana told the woman and Mary instantly went silent and calm. “Come, William, you must drink. Look into my eyes and drink.”

  The baby took the finger into his mouth and began to suckle. Tatiana watched health and color come over his features. He began to wiggle and squirm, drinking greedily. Tatiana pulled her finger back, and the child protested with a loud yelp of anger.

  “Shh,” Tatiana hushed him, and he quieted. She watched her blood swimming in his eyes, turning them red. When her blood left them, they were no longer blue, but jade green. “There you are, William. Now I will always be able to find you and yours.”

  “What did you do?” Mary asked weakly, looking at her son. She saw his strange eyes and gasped.

  “I saved him,” Tatiana answered simply. She did not want to let him go, but she had no choice. “Keep him from all sunlight for a week if you wish him to live. After that, he will be as he was born, albeit stronger and healthier. Tell no one of my coming. If William has need of me, I will know. Until that day, if there is such a day, don’t reveal my existence to him.”

  “Yes,” Mary said in awe. She felt her son moving in her arms and began to cry tears of happiness. “You have my word. But, what of Henry? Your father? Surely they—”

  “No one,” Tatiana repeated sternly.

  Mary nodded her head. “Yes, no one. I promise. Please, tell me how I can repay you for the life of my son?”

  “I demand only this,” Tatiana said. Marcello still had not turned from his place. “Raise him well and tell him grand stories of his father, our family.”

  “What...what do you mean?”

  “Remember, only a soft lamplight. Keep him from the sun for a full week,” Tatiana said, turning her back on Mary and William. She reached up for Marcello’s shoulder. He turned and wrapped his arms around her. They crossed to the opened window and jumped.

  “Wait,” Mary called, running after them. When she reached the window, they were gone.

  Tatiana stood by Marcello’s side, hidden from Mary as they watched her close the window. A smile of hope was on the young mother’s features, as they saw her swaying happily with her revived son.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  “Why don’t you go on ahead,” Marcello said quietly. “I will be along shortly.”

  Tatiana turned from the window to study him. Her heart fluttered in her chest, beating rapidly. She was overwhelmed with emotions. Her arms could still feel the gentle weight of the baby, his warmth. Her gaze dipped to his mouth. “It isn’t finished.”

  Marcello sighed. “I know. I will take care of it. I have given you my word when you bound yourself to me that I will protect your family and I will. No harm will come to Henry this night.”

  “You saw the dream? How come you didn’t say?”

  “How come you never told me of it, bella mia? Is it because you still feel for Thomas?” Marcello’s expression was blank, but she felt more in him.

  “I feel sorry for Thomas,” she admitted weakly. “I don’t wish to see him harmed.”

  “I promise not to harm him. I will merely dissuade him from his task.” Marcello began to walk around the front of the house. In the distance, they both detected Henry’s carriage. “Now go. There is no need for you to see this.”

  “No, Marcello,” Tatiana whispered. The carriage neared, and she grabbed his arm, stopping him.

  “There is Thomas,” Marcello said, making as if he would go after the man and stop him.

  “No,” Tatiana repeated, her voice soft.

  “But, bella? I promised you. I will not let harm come to your family.” Marcello tried to shake off her arm. She gripped him tightly.

  “No. Don’t interfere.” Tatiana’s anguish poured out of her as she saw her brother step out of his carriage. He looked as she’d remembered him and a part of her loved him still. Her voice caught, as she said, “It is justice. What must be done, will be done.”

  “Are you sure?” Marcello asked.

  Tatiana read his concern and threw herself into his arms. She buried her face in his sturdy, unmoving chest. Snowflakes fell gently around them. A shot rang out. Tatiana stiffened in Marcello’s embrace, frozen for an instant before she pushed away. She turned and allowed herself to be seen as she stepped forward. She felt the households around them stirring at the noise of the gun.

  Thomas looked old, worn, no longer the handsome youth he’d been. Time had been most cruel in its treatment of him. Henry moaned on the ground.

  “Tatiana?” Thomas breathed. “How...how can it be?”

  Tatiana’s sad eyes turned to her brother. She kneeled beside him and took his hand in hers. He was cold, but not nearly as cold as her.

  Henry gasped for breath. “Tatiana...help.”

  “Shh, Henry. It will be over in a moment,” Tatiana said. She stroked his hair from his face. Gurgling sounded, and his throat choked as he coughed up blood. The dark liquid stained along his face, dotting the pure white snow. “Hush, now. It’s all right.”

  “Tat…” Henry’s eyes dulled, and she felt the last breath slip out of his brother.

  Slowly, she stood. She knew that they were being watched from windows. She felt the eyes gathering. Thomas held his gun, his hand trembling. He looked at her with his worn blue eyes. “Tatiana?”

  “Thomas,” she said. “You should go.”

  “Tatiana, is it you? How? I haven’t seen you with Henry. How is it you have come to be here?”

  “Go,” she insisted. Her eyes glittered in her meaning. “Now. Before you are seen.”

  “How did you escape the devil?” he asked, shaking. “I never meant for you to see this. He killed my sister. Please, forgive me. It is justice that I seek tonight. Pl—”

  “Shh,” Tatiana hushed. “Go.”

  “Come with me,” he urgently whispered.

  He moved toward her, limping on his bad ankle. She took a step back, shaking her head. Her lips parted. She let the shadowed light fall on her mouth, tipping her white fangs. Thomas gasped. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a second gun. He pointed it at her, his hand wavering in fear.

  “What has happened to you?” he asked, shaking his head in desperation. She could’ve charged him, disarmed him. Instead, she merely watched. “What has that demon done to you?”

  “I helped Henry, Thomas. I cleaned up his mess. I hid Alice’s body. I didn’t deliver the deathblow, but I am as guilty as he. I remember it clearly now,” Tatiana said. “I’m sorry.”

  “So it’s true?” the man hissed. “You helped to murder my sister?”

  “Yes, forgive me,” she whispered. She knew they must hurry. More and more eyes were looking out at them. It wouldn’t be long before the authorities arrived.

  “How could you?” Thomas yelled. Then, he began to cry. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “She loved you. I loved you. I love you still.”

  “The woman you love is dead. You will move on to find happiness. This I promise. Now, end me, Thomas,” Tatiana whispered. She felt Marcello behind her, felt him stirring. She willed him back, willed him to trust her.

  When Thomas didn’t move, Tatiana let the bloodlust enter her eyes. Baring her fangs, she charged him. Thomas gasped in horror to see the creature she had become. Lifting his gun, he fired. The bullet hit her in the chest, sending her flying back. Tatiana gasped at the
fiery pain blazing inside her. Her body slid across the snow, stopping in a twisted mass of limbs near Henry’s corpse.

  Thomas stood frozen. Marcello materialized out of thin air with a growl. Thomas saw him and dropped his guns. He turned, running away from the house.

  Marcello looked down at Tatiana in the snow. Her body wasn’t moving, except for her red and jade eyes. With a worried frown marring his brow, he kneeled down and gently lifted her up into his arms.

  Mary’s face stared out at them from the window, pale and drawn. He ignored the mortal woman, turning his back on her. A desperate curse left his throat as he pulled Tatiana close to his chest. Tenderly, he swept her lifeless body back to their crypt.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Marcello was forced to dig his fingers into Tatiana’s chest to retrieve the bullet. She screamed in agony, unable to lay voice to a coherent thought. In her mind, it was the same, nothing but torturous suffering. He felt her pain washing over him like it was his own. He tried to mesmerize her, but she wouldn’t let him and he knew she punished herself for Alice.

  When the bullet was finally out, he made her drink from the wrist of an enthralled prostitute he’d plucked from the nearby streets. He cut the woman open, letting her life trickle into Tatiana’s gasping lips. She swallowed, only because she had no choice. It was going to be a slow and painful recovery, but her body would eventually heal itself.

  After taking the prostitute and dropping her off, blocks away from the graveyard they rested in, Marcello opened their shared coffin. He set Tatiana’s tired body inside. Her pale eyes stared up at him in her pain. He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, crawling into the darkness with her.

  “You are a fool,” he whispered. Only then did he allow the shaking fear to enter his body. He pulled her close, holding her tightly. For a brief second, he’d thought he would lose her. When the gun fired and she flew back, he’d waited, frozen in terror, for her to turn to ash. Thankfully, the bullet struck too far right and only punctured her lung, an all but useless organ to her. “He could’ve pierced your heart. You are young. It could’ve killed you. If you were weakened in such a way, he could—”

  “I have done what needed to be done,” Tatiana broke in against the searing pain. “I have repaid my debt. I have given Thomas his revenge and whatever peace is to be gained by it.”

  Marcello growled, hugging her tighter. She flinched, but he didn’t let her go, couldn’t let go. Weakly, as he watched her eyes close into the void of her dreams, he whispered, “Perdonami amore mio. I could’ve lost you. I shouldn’t have let you face him, cara mia. I could’ve lost you. I could’ve lost you.”

  Tatiana stirred but did not waken.

  “Perdonami amore mio,” he repeated over and over again, kissing her temple, breathing deeply of her scent. Forgive me, my love.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Tatiana opened her eyes and was met with the shadowed ceiling of the stone crypt. It was a dank place, one she knew Marcello did not like staying in. He’d only come to London because of her. She knew that and was grateful.

  Stretching out with her senses, she tried to feel for him. She could detect him nearby, wandering about amongst the graves. Slowly, she sat, looking around. She felt a small chill.

  “Alice?” she whispered, looking through the darkness. Tatiana climbed out of the coffin. “Alice?”

  She felt a wavering presence beside her and turned. Alice’s transparent form stood before her. Her pale features smiled as her hand lifted gracefully to touch Tatiana’s cheek. Tatiana felt the maid’s energy next to her, though the hand wasn’t solid against her skin.

  “I am sorry, Alice,” Tatiana said. “I’m so sorry. I...I shouldn’t have helped Henry to hide you. I shouldn’t have beckoned you to me. I’m sorry.”

  Alice’s hand drifted down over her chest to hover near the bullet wound. Her face turned sad.

  “Henry’s gone. Thomas has avenged you. It’s over.”

  Alice closed her eyes and nodded. Tatiana heard the woman’s words whispered in her head, “Thank you.”

  “I release you from this world, Alice,” Tatiana whispered. Alice had been her best friend in her past life, but this was a new life, and it was time to let her go. “I release you.”

  Alice opened her eyes, blue eyes that shone brightly with happiness and peace. She nodded once and slowly faded. Tatiana was left with a hollow feeling in her chest. Alice was truly gone.

  Walking out into the winter night, she ignored the sting of the cold wind on her cheeks. She couldn’t feel it anyway. Her chest ached as she walked, but she ignored it. The worst of the physical pain was over.

  Seeing a figure leaning tall against an old gravestone shaped like a cross, she sighed. Marcello. She shouldn’t have bound him to her. She realized that now. The burden of her future wasn’t for him to bear. It wasn’t fair to him. And, though she was sure it might kill her to do it, she would release him from her. In doing so, he would then be able to release his hold on her. He would again be free.

  “Marcello,” she whispered, sadly.

  He held up his hand to her and motioned her forward. She stepped closer, only now sensing the smell of a human. She leaned, looking around his shoulder to where he pointed. There, huddled and shivering, was her father.

  “Father?” she gasped. She began to step forward but stopped when she saw the look of apprehension on his face. “What did you do, Marcello?”

  “He’s done nothing,” William Sinclair said to his daughter. He was thin, frail man, aged by the years more rapidly than he should’ve been. “I-I-I came on my own. I searched for you. I-I wanted to see you.”

  “How…?” Tatiana asked.

  “I know what you are,” he whispered, looking up at Marcello. “I know you saved my grandson.”

  Tatiana frowned.

  “Mary didn’t tell me,” he said, raising his hands in defense. “She’s a good woman, Henry’s wife...widow.”

  William tensed, a wave of grief passing over his face. Tatiana felt it as well. He looked at Marcello then Tatiana. Tatiana tried to turn away in shame. Her father’s words stopped her.

  “You did what I couldn’t,” he said. “Your brother...I couldn’t cover up for him anymore. He was mad.”

  Tatiana frowned. She stepped closer, her eyes glimmering as she read into her father’s mind. She found his love for her and his fear of what she was although he was trying hard to overcome it. She also found his shame over his son. She saw how her father had discovered Henry’s passion for prostitutes, a passion that ended in violence and death. But he had no proof of the crimes, only his suspicions, gathered together by little facts and clues, a bloodied glove, an odd comment, a lustful look.

  Suddenly, Tatiana tensed, feeling the heat of a vision swimming before her eyes. She saw a woman’s body, strangled by Henry’s hand. She saw another beaten bloody like Alice. Another still stabbed. Another hung. Another...another...another...endless.

  “How long have you known?” she whispered in horror. “How long?”

  “After Alice, after you left us, I went to London to speak with him. I mentioned you, and he seemed relieved. I looked into his eyes and knew. A father should know his son, but I didn’t know mine. I had him followed, watched.” William began to sob, running his hand through his hair as he fell to the ground in grief.

  Tatiana went to kneel beside him. She felt Marcello moving away to give them privacy. She watched him stroll down the long line of gravestones before she turned to her father once more.

  “How did you find me?” Tatiana hesitated before reaching out to touch him. She ran a light hand over his shoulder.

  “I was at Henry’s home. I saw you through the front window. This morning, I saw my grandson and knew by Mary’s face you’d been there.”

  “How is baby William?” Tatiana asked softly.

  “Well. Very well.” Her father smiled. “Strong. Handsome.”

  To Tatiana’s surprise, her father darted for
ward and gave her a big hug. She felt his shiver as he pressed his warmth to her cold. “I’ve missed you, girl. Please, come home. I don’t care what’s happened to you. I don’t care. So help me, I don’t. Just come home. Come back to Eastwich.”

  Tatiana looked at Marcello. Their eyes locked from across the distance. Slowly, he nodded his head at her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, realizing that was what she wanted. She couldn’t have a little family of her own, or a normal life. But this was her family. This was what she wanted. She wanted her father nearby. She wanted to watch baby William grow to be a good man. She wanted Marcello.

  William’s face broke out into a smile. He grabbed her face in his hands, kissing her cheeks in enthusiasm. “I’ve kept your room, just as you left—”

  “I am a vampire father and a witch. I can’t live at the house with you.” Tatiana motioned meaningfully to the graveyard.

  “Oh, yes,” William said, a little disconcerted. Then, shaking himself, he swore, “It doesn’t matter. We’ll make arrangements. I just want you home.”

  Tatiana kissed his cheeks, urging him to his feet and back to Henry’s home before he caught an illness from the cold air. She watched in silence until he faded from sight. Then, silently she drifted toward Marcello, who still waited patiently for her.

  The blue moonlight cast shadows of the graves. Tree limbs stretched and danced along the dark sky in eerie streaks. Stopping before him, she felt her heart break.

  “I release you from your bond to me,” Marcello said softly. He didn’t move to touch her. “You’re free to go home.”

  He turned to leave. Tatiana cried out, reaching to stop him. “Marcello, wait.”

  Marcello stopped, studying her carefully. She couldn’t read him. Never had she wanted to more desperately.

  “Just ask me, bella mia. Ask what it is you are trying to pry from my mind,” he whispered. “I will not lie to you.”