IMMORTALITY

Julia

June 30

Horse hooves sloshed loudly through the deep mud, splashing brown liquid at the coachmen up front guiding the gentle beasts over the flooded road. Freezing air swarmed within the carriage protected only by fabric draping from the wooden ceiling. A large fur given to me by my lover kept me warm. While the white silk hugging my petite form was the greatest treasure I had ever worn, it did nothing to save my body from winter’s dark days.

Reminded of my wedding gown, I pressed my small hand against my breast, feeling the gems embroidering the fine cloth. My Prince was determined to give me the best, though just being by his side made me very happy. I witnessed the very man change from beast to human before my eyes. When he was good, he was precious. And full of so much potential for greatness and love. Love not only for me but for his fellow man. Our Father in Heaven granted a miracle.

My Prince wanted us married in Sighisoara, his birthplace. In a way, it represented his rebirth. Very fitting, indeed.

I glanced out from the opening of the carriage, admiring the intricacy of bare branches, dark and barren with patches of snow scattering the cold, dank ground. Even in the harshest environment, beauty could be found. Although naked, the branches spread out like veins underneath flesh. How marvelous. Everything was perfectly made.

An outbreak of snorting and neighs erupted from the horses.

My gaze tore from the wilderness and to the drivers who attempted to calm the animals with their words. Their disturbance became known when in the opposite direction, a few men rode up to us. Worry ensnared my jumping heart. While I was not the most traveled woman, I recognized their Eastern accents as they yelled out to the driver.

While not draped in their custom attire, they were certainly Turks.

Perhaps Ottomans in disguise.

Guards following behind the carriage rode to the front, hands placed protectively on the hilts of their swords. The strangers paused, entertaining my Prince’s people. My hand returned to my chest, feeling the rise of my nervous heart. My Prince would be very displeased to know that his enemy was in his country. All I could hope was that God would deliver us from evil this very day.

If not, and my weary heart suggested so, surely any wrong this day would be corrected.

I withheld a gasp as one of the guards pulled out his weapon and pointed it at a Turk. The men withdrew their swords; violence broke. One of the drivers yelled at me to stay put as he attempted to help the guards; however, as he left the front of the carriage, a Turk galloped over and dismantled him, spraying blood in all directions. A tiny crimson splatter landed on my dress.

Although I despised violence, I reached into a satchel underneath the furs and pulled out a dagger supplied by my lover in the event of some unfortunate happenings. Undeterred by my small form and even smaller knife, the Turk snatched my arm and yanked me out of the vessel. I cried out in protest, but he grasped my waist and hoisted me in the air. I wrangled in his strong grip, though my limbs failed me, shaking from the terror racing through my veins.

“This is her,” the Turk told his companions.

Another added, “She belongs to the son of the Dragon.”

The guards and drivers strewn across the ground, lifeless and bloodied. No doubt it was the same fate awaiting me.

The Turk dropped me to the ground before striking me in the belly with his boot.

“She is the way to his heart,” another said. “She will break him.”

A Turk laughed. “The Great Impaler will not be so great now.”

“Our Heavenly Father,” I breathed, smoke billowing from my warm mouth. “Forgive them. Forgive my lover.”

“What is she saying?”

“Nothing. She’s praying.”

“He will be angry again, Lord. Please save him. Forgive him for the pain and suffering he will create to avenge me. He does not mean it. He will not understand. Pave him a way back to kindness, compassion, and love. Save him.from himself. No matter how long it takes. Save him. Save Vlad.”

A horrendous pain struck through my head. Red filled my vision.

With effort, I repeated, “Save Vlad.”

Another blow to the head.

Ringing filled my ears as I woke, a hint of phantom pains throbbing through my cranium. Soon the ringing was replaced by a comforting hum. Above glowed lights in a ceiling that reminded me of a plane. Something cold encompassed the entirety of my right hand.

Goosebumps rose to my skin as his voice whispered nearby.

“I am here, Jewel.”

A part of me was terrified to turn my head towards him in fear that I was still dreaming and that everything that recently transpired was all in my imagination.

A large thumb gently stroked the top of my hand, comfortingly. He went on, just as kindly, “You are alright. You are safe. I am here with you.”

I gave in. With anticipation, I looked over to my right. The Count’s dark green eyes held mine, his brow creased with a mixture of concern and ardor. Already my senses told me it wasn’t a dream, not anything like the experiences in the cabin. He was real and solid right before me. His cold hand gave mine a considerate squeeze.

Within those first seconds, I glanced at the blood soaked through his shirt then back to his face, absorbing his familiar and intense features along with the thick and black, curly hair sprouting the crown of his head.

Reading me, he added, “Do not worry. I am not hurt. I am safe. So are your family and friends.”

I was too focused on him to really consider anything else. Immediately, I shot up into a sitting position and caressed my hands to his hollow face. He was real. The Count brought his hands to mine, but I withdrew and ripped his collar open to reveal the thick scar circling his neck. Only he bore that blemish. It really was him. He was alive, present, not a dream.

Understanding, he added, “I am here with you, Jewel.”

I threw myself into his chest and attacked his mouth with the hardest and longest kiss I could muster. The Count embraced me as he welcomed the kiss, molding his lips desperately to mine. When I withdrew to breathe, I collapsed into his chest and squeezed him tight. He held me, and somehow I knew he was doing all in his power to keep himself from crying. That suspicion was confirmed when we let go and returned to sharing your lips. He blinked away tears fervently, though the whites of his eyes began to redden from emotion. His familiar and wonderful scent filled me up, the feeling of his lips and close shave invigorating on my skin. He was back. He was mine. He was alive…

He was alive!

Just as suddenly, I pulled away and slapped him. Startled, he withdrew, more dumbfounded by my reaction than anything else.

“How are you here? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me you were alive? How long have you been alive?”

Composed, he carefully replied, “I never died, Julia.”

I gaped at him.

He explained, “What you saw that awful night was an enchantment; a spell cast by a Witch. It was all a ploy to devastated Báthory and Eléston and therefore giving them no interest in you.”

My already open jaw widened. Trembling, I cried, “You could have told me!” Immediately, I went back to slapping him across the face and chest, hurt beyond reason. “How could you do that to me? I would have been able to keep that secret! Why would you put me through hell?!”

The Count patiently took every blow, not an ounce of anger showing in his body, but instead guilt and understanding. A few beats of silence followed once I stopped hitting him.

“Ahem.”

We both turned to our company. Only then did I realize we were on some sort of private jet. But everyone was there. My family, my immortal friends, and even other familiar Vampiric faces such as Xavier and Drago.

Jack shifted awkwardly on his feet; he was the one who had cleared his throat to grab our attention. Evidently, we had an audience that entire time.

Lelagül stepped forward, diligently adding, “The Count didn’t mean to be malignant, dear. He attempted to keep you safe.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Did you know about this?”

Lelagül frowned, but she nodded.

Appalled, I gestured to everyone. “Who else was in on Vladimir’s plan?”

Xavier and his group shared looks with Drago.

I returned to the Count, mystified. “How come everyone knew what you were planning, but you kept me out of it?”

A grim expression dragged along the Count’s pallid complexion. “I thought it was best for you to believe it was real. Your ignorance would further prove to Eléston that you no longer held any worth to them. But now I see that was wrong. I should have included you as well. The plan I created backfired and put you through unnecessary torment. What I did to you was cruel and unfair. Nothing I can say will make amends for such wrongdoings. Once again, I have failed you. I am so sorry, and I beg for your forgiveness.”

I could see in his eyes that he was genuinely hurt by his actions. Of course he never meant to cause me harm. I knew I was the most important person in his life just as he was the most important person in my life.

I embraced him again then kissed his cheek. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry for slapping you and for yelling.”

“I find no fault in you,” he responded earnestly.

I resorted to leaning against his large, muscular chest and allowed peace to settle in. Finally after long, grueling months, I was able to experience peace. The Count held me, brushing his hand over my arm comfortingly before pressing his lips to the top of my head like he always did.

My attention shifted again to our companions. Apart from those who knew the Count, everyone else glanced awkwardly at us as if unsure how to calculate or even adjust to the situation. Surely it was going to be strange for my family to get used to my boyfriend of six centuries in age. Not to mention that our relationship wasn’t very conventional.

As for Jacqueline and Jack, it must have been strange and even alarming to be in the Count’s presence. Though I really wondered what Jacqueline thought. She had a dicey past with the Count; most people did. However, out of everyone making the adjustment, she seemed the most at peace. I had a gut feeling that she and the Count already had a conversation while I was out.

My focus returned to the Count. “So, what did you do during the entire time we were separated?”

Expecting the query, the Count answered, “I went to Italy with the witch that was helping me. Her name is Eliza. Together, we researched how to reach Charlestine within Mount Vesuvius.”

I recalled the Count elucidating about the trapped Angel a few years ago.

Hopeful, I inquired, “Did you find him?”

“Yes,” the Count said. “We had an interesting and cordial conversation before he willingly gave me his blood.”

Another wave of adrenaline washed over me. “So, I can be immortal now?”

Though as quickly as I spoke, his face darkened with trepidation. “Perhaps. I will explain more when we reach the States.”

“Are we going back to Washington?”

The Count nodded. “Yes. To Liberate.”