Page 13 of Cursed Lifeline (Eternal Love)

Twelve

Esme

song: yesterday | J2, coleen mcmahon

Alfred doesn't take his eyes off Felix as I close the final steps between us. Clearing my throat when he still doesn't tear his gaze away from the vampire behind me, we stand for a couple moments in tense silence before his stare angrily drifts to mine.

My brother's heated gaze falls to my throat. He studies it. Cocks his head to the side and analyzes every inch of the mark Felix left behind. His hand raises and he brushes my hair back over my shoulder, then slowly grazes the back of his knuckle across the right side of my neck where the hickey from Felix's hungry lips now rests.

"Don't lie to me and tell me this is a bruise from last night's training," he seethes.

I swallow over the deceit lodged in my throat as his eyes hold on to the red, black, and blue blemish. When I don't say a word, he releases a heavy sigh, and his fingers drop to the long chain necklace around my neck. He lifts it, removing and uncovering the catholic rosary that was hidden between my breasts.

"Contrary to myth, vampires aren't affected by crosses," he says. "This won't protect you if he decides to take what he so evidentlywants. Besides, his will is not his own. For he himself is subject to his birth . Much like you, petit."

My heart longs for the man I left sitting on the bench across the garden before reality sets in, and I force myself to accept the fact that Felix could never want me the way I want him.

He's a vampire. I'm the slayer.

Our worlds couldn't be more opposite, more doomed to fail if we'd tried.

Grabbing the gold chain from Alfred's grasp, I huff, "Maybe you're wrong."

Leaning in, my brother's disapproving glare deepens as he says, "Satan himself fell from heaven, Esme. He's forced to make a home for himself in hell, never to be allowed through the pearly gates again. But that doesn't stop him from playing with those who believe in Christ when it suits him. In fact, it's his favorite pastime. I'll warn you again since you have a habit of forgetting what I've said. Felix will play with you until you can't deny him what he wants any longer. It's the game his kind loves to play. When your guard is down, that's when he'll attack."

"He'd never do that."

"No?" he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. "How can you be so sure?"

I begin to speak, to argue my case, when he cuts me off.

"Before you continue to spout lies your heart can't help but hope in, let me remind you that every slayer who has come before you thought they were strong enough and they all ended up dead. Even Drusilla herself, a slayer once believed to be the most powerful, is now Queen of the Damned."

"I have no desire to take her place if that's what you're insinuating."

His eyes lift and drift back over my shoulder. I chance a glance behind me and see Felix still sitting on the bench. Diligently watching.Waiting. Protectively, he studies us closely.

"No," my brother sighs. "Something tells me that's not his plan for you, either. In fact, I worry this is the very ecstasy of love, Whose violent property fordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings. "

Felix's eyes drift to mine. Heartbreak swells in his gaze. My heart bleeds for him.

For us.

For what we both wish could exist but know never can.

"King Louis' control is slipping," Alfred says, drawing my attention back to the pressing matters at hand.

"Not surprised," I sigh. "His reign of terror won't be able to last long. Even with the help of the coven."

"I've been asked to quicken your training."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at him and ask, "By whom?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does if it means I am helping the King."

"And killing vampires, Felix's family, has nothing to do with your hesitation?"

My glare deepens.

My brother smiles.

"King Louis will fail," he says, "the coven will make sure of it. What the council is more worried about is your father's alliance with the coven, especially since his new venture is seen as a rising cult."

"The cult of reason?" I raise a brow, questioning him.

He nods, and his gaze narrows as it once again lifts and looks behind me. I don't have to steal a glance. I know he's still there. I can feel his presence just as easily as I feel the air fill my lungs to take my next breath. It's comforting knowing he's watching. Soothing. Assuring.

"Father is focused on becoming the cult's leader," my brother says. He turns, takes a few steps back toward the estate, and gestures for me to walk with him. I follow as requested, and with every step I take, I sense Felix's protective gaze on me. "He's preoccupied with bringing in new members. Making money to support the cult's vision. He's announced that anyone that questions or doubts the future of the cult, or its destiny to take over France, will be punished."

"Where do I come in?" I ask as we stroll through the gardens. "I can't openly go against our father. These may be changing times, but like you said, if I stand against him..."

Alfred looks back over our shoulders and releases a heavy sigh. He rolls his eyes as his gaze meets mine. I smile knowingly, sensing Felix's presence following us, which only irritates my brother further.

"You may be right about one thing," he groans in annoyance. "Felix won't let anyone harm you."

My grin widens as we walk up the steps to the house. Alfred opens the front door and pauses to let me pass. As I do, he says, "But that doesn't mean he won't hurt you, Esme."

With a roll of my eyes, I walk into the entryway and remove my cape. The warmth of the house is a pleasant change from the cold October morning. Alfred extends his hand, and I give him my cloak with a soft smile before hugging my copy of Hamlet close to my chest.

"The cult is composed of politicians, publishers, journalists," I say. "Not the noblemen and clergy in the past. They don't stand a chance at winning."

"With the right amount of propaganda, anyone can convince the masses the lies they are weaving are true," Alfred raises a brow at me as he hands my cape, along with his hat and gloves to the butler. "Above all people, you should know that."

I choose to ignore his comment as we walk into the study. Silas and Caelum, Alfred's alliances on the Magister Council, sit waiting for us.

The three men don't share blood, but I've quickly learned they are brothers just the same, having grown up in the council and dubbed as trainers of my kind and any potential slayers that may arise in the future if I am unsuccessful at my task. I once asked Alfred if I had to die for a potential to be called. He assured me I didn't. Potentials could, however, feel the pull on their life at any time, but they wouldn't be considered full slayers until they are called by the council in the event the current slayer perishes.

Silas and Caelum rise, kiss me tenderly on the cheek, then take their seats across from me as I position myself closest to the fire that's burning vigorously in the hearth and set my book on my lap.

As of recently, there are no potentials. Hence why Silas and Caelum are keeping Alfred and I company and not off on their own training another girl who, if she's lucky, won't fall in love with the man she's supposed to kill.

Potentials and propaganda aside, I look at my brother and refuse to believe there aren't still good-hearted people in the world that would stand up to the evil that threatens to be unleashed at the hand of my father's corrupt religion.

"The cult's next festival is rumored to take place soon," I say. "And no one, not even those in the lower class who despise King Louis, will stand for the cult's immoral, atheist celebrations when they see what's in store for them if my father gets the chance to rule France."

"Not all of us are as devoted Christians as you, Esme," Alfred grins as he strides to the table across the room and pours himself a drink. He offers one to Silas and Caelum. Silas shakes his head no, while Caelum nods yes eagerly.

"I, for one, have never judged anyone for committing sins that were considered immoral," Caelum grins as he takes his drink from Alfred.

I shake my head and sigh. That I don't doubt as Caelum still looks slightly inebriated from wherever his promiscuous travels led him last night. In fact, it's a surprise he found his way home this morning at all.

Felix's laugh rings through my mind as he reads my thoughts, and his presence calls to me from just beyond the window across the room. Glancing to my right, I notice his shadow under the shade of a grand oak in the front yard and smile.

"In fact," Caelum continues, wiping his mouth after downing his drink. I look his way just as his glassy eyes find mine, "it's immorality that has brought us here. So cheers to that."

He raises his glass to take another sip and frowns when he realizes he's drunk it all.

Silas rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed by his brother for being roused from bed at this early hour. Sila's job, which is strictly enforced by the council, is to watch over me at night, and ensure I'm safe as I slumber quietly in my bed. It's a job that has to annoy him as Alfred and Caelum stagger in at all hours from wherever their latest indecent and vulgar endeavors have taken them.

Once or twice, I've almost sought Silas out and told him not to worry about watching over me so he could get some rest since I'm already guarded by a force that even the council couldn't defeat. But then that would divulge the secret of who and what is covering me. Protecting me.And I know I can't do that.

A caring caress touches my mind as a loving brush of Felix's approval fleets across my thoughts.

"I wouldn't go cheersin' and celebratin' just yet," Silas scowls. "There's still a lot at stake and a lot of work to put in if Esme is going to ever truly be able to defend herself against any bloodthirsty vampires, especially the famed Immortalis Coven."

"Speaking of celebrations," Alfred butts in. We turn and look his way as he unbuttons his coat with one hand, eases himself into a midnight blue high-back chair, and sips of his drink. "Father is planning another gala tonight."

"In honor of what this time?" I laugh.

"Marriage."

My brow furrows. Alfred takes another sip of his drink and studies me over the rim. The look he gives me hints that I already know the answer to my next question before I even ask.

"How wonderful," I manage, though my voice comes out shakier than expected. "Who is the lucky couple?"

From outside in the garden, anger reaches my mind before Alfred even speaks another word. It grows and engulfs itself into an inferno that I know won't be stopped if my brother tells me what I fear he's about to.

"Lord Laurent is finally announcing his engagement," Alfred hisses as he sets his drink down on the table in front of us. "To Miss Esmerelda Martin. They are to be married in one month's time."

My eyes grow wide. My hands shake. My ears refuse to believe what I've just heard.

"That's impossible," I whisper. "I gave father the money and …"

"Like I said," Alfred sighs, "Father is obsessed and preoccupied with this cult of reason. He's spent your money, and now he once again needs more. Lord Laurent, though timid at first, maybe even a little frightened, was once again willing to bail him out for a price."

"That price being me?"

No one says a word as the violent rage in the garden just outside the window grows.

"He won't live long enough to see me walk down the aisle," I seethe.

"Oh, I'm betting on that," Alfred laughs. "That's not what concerns me though."

"Pray tell what does then?" I sass.

"Lord Laurent is the last thing that stands between Father and King Louis. He dies. King Louis dies. Then what's to stop Father's cult of reason from growing."

"The coven," I insist.

Alfred and Caelum laugh.

Silas regards me with a sad smile.

"You may have stolen the heart of the prince of darkness, Esme, but I guarantee the rest of the damned will not be so willing to stand down when Father opens the door for them to not only hunt at night through King Louis' reign of terror but any time they like. Father has said he's intent on enlisting every coven worldwide to help him build an empire. Not just the Immortalis. He's hell-bent on making a new religion in France. One that won't be stopped by any King. One that is ruled by reason, remember? His reason. Not a higher power. Well," my brother chuckles, "Excluding his, that is."

"So I'm to be married to that old Lord to stop father?" I shout.

Even though I sense Felix's rage, surprisingly I also sense his calming touch. His gentle pleading to take a deep breath. To listen, to know, and understand that Lord Laurent, my father, they will be stopped.

"No," Alfred bristles at my tone. " He won't allow it."

Felix.

"Which creates a complication," my brother sighs.

"So, if it wasn't for Felix, you'd let me marry that fat, old..."

Alfred cuts me off. "It's because of Felix the council is forced to consider alternatives. May it work in your favor or not, only time will tell."

"What alternatives?"

"We increase your training. Before the end of the month, you'll learn to hunt. To kill. And finally take your place as the slayer."

"So," I laugh bitterly, "either I marry Lord Laurent to save France, even though it's damned anyways, or I train in order to kill the only man I..."

Alfred frowns and I immediately stop speaking before looking away in shame.

Felix's words from earlier drift to memory.

You.

I'd. Always. Choose. You.

Rising, I walk slowly over to the window across the room and look out across the garden. My heart breaks when I catch Felix's sad stare and he's met by two of his kind. The three men talk briefly, and all too soon Felix is pulled away, but not before giving me one last longing look over his shoulder.

My heart will always choose Felix.

Only problem is, the calling on my life threatens to win before Felix and I ever got a chance to play the game. No matter what my heart wants, the future was never mine to decide. Not after the council chose me as the slayer.

"There may be another way," Alfred groans. Instantly, my gaze locks back on his.

Impatiently, I wait for him to tell me what other way. But he only frowns, then looks at Silas and Caelum. Silas shakes his head and says, "Absolutely not."

With an irritated huff, I demand, "Will you all stop treating me like a child and tell me, what other way?"

The three men study one another. Finally, Caelum rises, walks a few hesitant steps in my direction, and says, "Maybe you should have a drink first, Es, before we relay a plan that may end like that book you're reading."

He nods down at my hands. Looking at the novel still clutched in my palm, my heart stops. Having not reached the end yet, I slowly look back at Caelum and ask, "Does Ophelia die in the end?"

A regretful chuckle leaves Caelum's lips. "I hate to spoil the story, but…"

Turning away before he can say another word, Caelum's voice fades as I step toward the window and gently place my hand against the cool glass.

As long as Felix lives, I don't care.

I'd risk my life to save his.

Only thing is, something tells me there's more to this spoiled ending than Caelum is letting on. If that's the case, it doesn't matter what risks we take, the powers of heaven and hell have decided.

Like William Shakespeare once said, "All the world's a stage, and the men and women merely players."

If that's the case, regardless of the way Felix and I feel about each other, the show must go on.