know, we may mingle more freely in human society, and you’ll appreciate the world far more than you did before. I will always be at your side to protect you.”
Again, I asked myself— from what?
The finality gave me that queasy Jane Eyre-ish feeling in the gut again. I depended now on his sufferance for my very survival. No longer part of the mortal world, I’d no earthly, or should I say unearthly, idea of what the vampiric one would bring. Clutching him tightly, I burst into tears.
Ethan, extremely moved, comforted me. “Hush now. Let’s see the house, shall we?”
He unlocked the front door and switched on the lights. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was still the twentieth century.
He toured me about the house, pointing out works of art and architectural features with great pride as I clung nervously to his arm.
“Gee whiz, I’ll never get used to the fact that you’re over a century old!”
Ethan smiled at that. “Wait until you meet one from another millennium.”
Now I was truly appalled. Creatures from societies that burned people alive, sacrificed virgins and kept slaves? Slavery? Oh boy, I hadn’t even considered this question. Obviously, it was part of Ethan’s past.
“What about the vampire who— I didn’t know the lingo yet— did this to you?”
He kind of snapped at me, “We call ourselves Immortyls. Vampire is a vulgar term.”
“Sorry. So who did it?”
His face tensed. “I really don’t wish to discuss it.”
I quickly changed the subject as we entered another room. “Wow, what’s this place?”
“The drawing room.”
“Oh Ethan it’s so pretty!”
Delicate furnishings were swathed in bright silks and tapestry. Richly patterned rugs of blue and yellow wool covered gleaming wood floors. A huge chandelier sparkled overhead. My breath caught in wonder at the glitter, like the stars, like Ethan.
“I could stay here forever!”
The most splendiferous object was pleased, lifting and twirling me around. I laughed, the glittering lights and motion making me giddy. Little did I know when I spotted the notice for the play that I was to glimpse a world about to dawn!
He set me down and pulled something sparkling from his pocket, an art nouveau butterfly pendant set with star sapphires and tiny diamonds. “To commemorate your emergence from the chrysalis.” He did the clasp around my neck. “Your journey is just beginning, my butterfly.”
Just where would it take me? To the end of the earth and back— this particular act, I was confined to the Old Dominion— a Bird of Prey in a gilded cage, if you will.
Well, it all took some getting used to. Not just the liquid diet, the whole darn shebang. The lack of sunlight really got to me. The sun was in my blood and I’d always found the winter depressing. I was used to New York crowds and my raucous theatre chums. Ethan’s house, however, was isolated from the rest of the world and I had no human contact. Even the two elderly servants worked while we slept and then went home.
I was also curious about everything having to do with my lover, but Ethan wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information. As loquacious as he could be, there were periods of brooding silence that went on and on, when he would peevishly wave me away. I’d back off, hurt and bewildered, but the night my fangs finally came in, he demanded we share essence immediately. And I learned a curious thing.
I eagerly tore into his throat for the first time, embracing the glowing pulse of his heart within my own. Then the screen lit up inside me, and I saw the tall blond man of my nightmare, his long hair blowing in the wind, standing in a snowy landscape with arms outstretched. A searing climax rocked us both, as if this person willed it. I tried to probe Ethan’s memory deeper and find out who this man was, but my lover abruptly pulled away and the vision vanished. We lay there panting and gasping for breath.
“Ethan, can we read minds?”
He pulled himself over me, eager for round two. “Really Mia.”
I opened my thighs to admit him. Every evening started this way, not that I objected. I was more than happy to oblige him.
“I sense things about you sometimes… ”
He didn’t miss a stroke. “You’re simply reading the language of the body, the timbre of the voice. Trust me, the less hocus pocus you believe the better. It clouds the mind.”
“How do you explain the visions when we share essence?”