Page 26 of Cursed Lifeline (Eternal Love)

Twenty Five

Esme

Song: Cannon in D | Johann Pachelbel

Rosemary laces through rose vines as I run through the dark garden of a vast estate. Picking up the skirt of my dress, I suck in a deep breath and continue my chase.

Or am I the one running away?

Memories splatter against the forefront of my mind before being quickly wiped clean and blown away by the winds of a destiny I fear facing.

The rules are simple: I’m jealous and possessive. If we cross this line, you’re mine.

My fingers brush against my lips as my feet propel me faster through the gardens and into a dense forest. A cracking noise sounds behind me. Wood splintering, boots furiously hitting the ground in pursuit gives birth to panic. Hounds call out in the black of night. Their warning cry causes fear to slither its way around my heart. Still, I press on into darkness.

Rounding giant Redwoods, I push aside hanging tree branches, and propel myself quickly over logs as the hounds gain on me. Their threatening howls send shivers down my spine as I round a large, looming oak tree and a bright sparkling light flashes, blinding me momentarily. Coming to a stop, I shield my eyes and take a deep breath, though I worry pausing will doom me to a fate worse than the one that has brought me to an abrupt halt.

When I open my eyes, I’m surrounded by stained glass windows. Concrete floors. Church pews.

I spin in a circle, glancing around me quickly for any threat. But the menacing sounds from moments ago are no more. In their wake, all I hear is a beautiful melody. The brisk sound of strong fingers running lightly, methodically over keys, draws me closer. The person playing the music does so with ease as if they’ve been well versed in the tune they’re playing for centuries.

Walking toward the altar, I notice a man sitting at a piano on the dais of the church. With his back to me, I can’t make out who he is, but I feel instantly drawn to him. The pull is familiar. Comforting. Reassuring. Without hesitance, I continue to put one foot in front of the other and walk towards him.

The tune engages my heart. Forces me closer. Calls to a place that has been dead inside me for longer than I care to admit. The piece he plays is a famous melody by Johann Pachelbel, Cannon in D minor. It’s calm, gentle, tranquil. Yet it evokes motion, action, an urgency to give into the energy building with every graceful brush of the man’s fingers against the keys.

Pray you, love, remember.

The whisper of the man’s voice is small, yet it echoes from the back of my mind forcing emotion to build, my throat to tighten, and my heart to hurt as I cautiously take each step up the altar's stairs. The man’s head turns ever so slightly. In the distance, a violin begins to play. Harps join in. An orchestra of beautiful notes flood the room and accompanies the pianist in his rendition of a masterpiece. The man gets lost in the music, which effortlessly flows from his fingertips as the light hits him just right, illuminating the curves of his face, and a memory finally clicks into place.

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

I come to an abrupt stop. My eyes widen. I catch the hint of a smile as if he knows where my thoughts drifted. He turns his attention back to the keys in front of him and plays a few more bars, then says, “You make me pray for mortality. But by birth, I’ll never be able to love you honorably. That’s my curse.”

My heart breaks, but with desperate yearning, I push through the wounds his words inflict and take another step forward.

My throat grows tight with grief. Visions flood my mind. Their bits and pieces inundate my thoughts and scatter about haphazardly, not complete just yet, but offering enough courage for me to continue to step closer.

He shakes his head, “Loving you, Esme, threatens to always destroy us, no matter how hard we try and fight it.”

With a heavy sigh, he hangs his head and continues to touch each key fluidly. I sit next to him on the bench and watch in awe, mesmerized by his ability to play so beautifully. Even though the memory of the stranger is slowly coming together, the sight of his talent is one I have a feeling I’m witnessing for the first time.

He reads my mind, smiles sadly, and says, “As Chopin once said, sometimes I can only groan and suffer and pour out my despair at the piano.”

His mention of suffering and despair brings memories from a long time ago to the surface.

“Over the last century, I wrote you a thousand songs I longed to play for you,” he says. I smile at him as he opens his eyes, but his gaze stays fixated on his hands. “Yet the first you hear me play is a tune long associated with wedding ceremonies. The irony is not lost on me.”

A light chuckle escapes his lips.

“Don’t worry,” I nudge my shoulder against his, “I won’t let it go to my head and think you’re proposing.”

Abruptly, his hands bang against the keys. The magnificent music he’s been playing stops. His violet eyes lift to find mine. Before I can take a breath, before I can blink, he lifts me and sits me down in front of him atop the piano.

“If only I could keep you safe, just like this,” he whispers. “Protect you in a dream. Then I’d have no reservation about claiming what has always been mine.”

A delighted shiver courses up my spine. Though the piano no longer plays, music still floats our way. Violins, harps, they easily continue the tune he was bringing to life. The back of his hand tenderly brushes against my left cheek as our eyes meet, and he lovingly studies my features, committing every curve of my face to memory. His fingertips gently push a few strands of hair out of my eyes, placing them lovingly behind my ear.

Longing hangs in his stare as he whispers, “But it’s only a dream, Esme.”

Leaning forward, I capture his face tenderly between my palms and insist, “Not everything between us is fantasy.” He swallows hard but doesn’t avert his stare. “Not everything we feel is destined to fail.”

Though my memory is slowly coming back to me, it's obvious to both of us there are still pieces that are missing. A misfortune in my previous life, perhaps. One I’m doomed to repeat if I’m not careful.

He stands, and my legs widen as he steps between them. His heated gaze causes my body to tremble. His violet eyes flash up to meet mine. “I failed you once, Esme. In your absence, I promised never to fail you again.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and his forehead falls against mine. Biting my lip, I close my eyes and try to think best how to respond. Pulling him closer by his lapels, I whisper the only thing that comes to mind. “Even if you do, even if the ill-fated winds of destiny pull us apart, I’d still choose you.”

His lips crash against mine with so much fervor that I don’t have time to breathe. He kisses me like a man who was dead and is finally being brought back to life. Wholeheartedly, I give him the air he needs. I let him take, without reservation, without thought of any past or impending future, and open up to him willingly.

Giving into him feels like more than heaven.

It feels like home.

“If only we could stay like this,” he whispers, breaking our kiss. “Locked away where I could always protect you. Keep you safe.”

His lips quickly find purchase of mine before I can respond. This time, his kiss is slow. Seductive. Hypnotic. He takes his time as if we’ve been granted eternity to spend in each other’s arms. I savor the caress of his tongue against my own and the addictive brush of his lips across mine as he easily steals my breath away.

The music hovering around us soars, builds to a breathtaking crest of powerful climatic melody. He deepens the kiss and a tear falls from my eyes. Tenderly, his lips graze mine one last time before he pulls away and softly kisses the fallen tear from my cheek.

“But we can’t stay here, can we?” I cry.

His hands rise and affectionately grip the sides of my face just before the stained-glass windows burst. Their shards of glass violently punch through the air, reminding me of a dreadful memory I’ve yet to place until now, and then suddenly, they stop. Suspended, dangling in space, time pauses. The air around us becomes charged with tense energy as I stare deeply into his violet eyes, and he grins, “If I knew the answer to that question was yes, I’d build endless dreams for us to escape to.”

The room starts to spin. The shards delicately, sluggishly, move in a circle. Felix pulls back and regards me with a sad frown.

“But there’s a calling, a curse,” I whisper as my mind begins piecing the puzzle together.

His brow furrows.

His eyes darken with heartache.

Eventually, he sighs, “Even if I could keep you here safe with me for eternity, running from it will never make either of us happy because it will always be there waiting, threatening to steal anything we’ve built away once we get the courage to finally face the inevitable.”

The shards of glass start to spin faster.

With sadness hanging in his eyes, he whispers, “No, we can’t stay here. If I have even the slightest chance to love you honorably, I’m going to take it. I have a responsibility. One that will be waiting for me. For us.”

The piercing sound of glass colliding sends a jolt of panic down my spine.

Quickly, I beg, “What responsibility?”

Before he can respond, the glass from the windows thunders to the ground, and the dream shatters completely. My eyes open to a pounding on my door as Felix’s voice trails softly through my mind.

To break a curse.

The pounding on the door increases. Wincing, I glance at the note sitting next to me on the couch in my private roomette and make quick work of hiding it, and the rose behind a pillow. Rising, I straighten my attire, rub the sleep from my eyes, and brush a few stray strands of hair into place as I walk towards the door and bark out, “Coming!”

Swinging the door open, I’m met with Caelum’s mischievous grin and Alfred’s impatient glare.

“It’s time we have that chat,” Alfred smugly suggests.

“Chat?” I question innocently, still trying to clear my mind from the dream I was having.

“Remember when I said, ‘Alfred will fill you in on where we’re headed and why on the first leg of the trip?’” Caelum cheekily responds.

My gaze swings anxiously between my cousins as they enter my room and sit on my couch. Nervously, I close the door and sit opposite them in my quarters.

“If you’re intent on dining with the enemy tonight, there are things you need to know.”

“Enemy?” I ask, amazed, because that’s not the impression they gave earlier when they so freely let Felix show me to my room.

My cousins look apprehensively at each other.

Eventually, Caelum smiles, “It’s like ripping off a band-aid. Best to just get it over with quickly.”

Alfred sighs heavily, before glancing back my way and regaling me with a story that makes my hair stand on end.

My nightmares parading as dreams are linked to a calling. A summons. A fate I can try to ignore, try to outrun, but will never escape. The moment I took my first breath, my future had already been decided.

I was right to assume the dreams I’ve had for years hinted at more than just garden parties and cotillions.

Because I’m the slayer.

A fated line of women destined to hunt and overtake one of the most tempting forms of evil the world has ever known.

An enemy like the one with violet eyes who haunts my dreams.

As my cousins rise to leave, I sense they still haven’t told me everything. Perhaps because there is much more to their stories, and the haunting memories starting to unravel that they know my heart can’t handle yet.

Starting with the man who’s waiting to have dinner with me.

Felix Caldwell.

I have a responsibility to break a curse. His words torment me as I sit alone in my room and wrestle to untangle dark memories.

As they twist and turn and make me nauseous, I realize fate’s sick twist. Unfortunately for both of us, I’m the weapon sent to destroy his reign before he ever gets the chance to right the past and give us a future we hopelessly crave.