An Ever Fixéd Mark (52 page)

“But you are beautiful,” Lizzie said
impatiently as she allowed herself another glance in the glow of
the street lights.

“That gets boring, doesn’t it?” Claire
turned the car into a driveway. “But I thank you for the
compliment.”

“What do you want from me?” Lizzie saw the
grand house.

“Isn’t the question, Elizabeth, what you
want from me?”Claire shut off the car and locked eyes again.

Lizzie swallowed, unable to answer. Claire
smirked and left the car, leading the way up the front path into
the house. They left their coats in a carefully decorated foyer,
and walked past darkened rooms from which Lizzie briefly observed
pristine furniture and immaculate carpets. Claire suddenly stopped
and entered a darkened space with lots of books. It smelled more
like the Fulton House than the modern décor of the other rooms they
passed. The books were old… like Ben’s. There were shelves from
floor to ceiling full of them. An elaborately carved desk was at
the back of the room. In the center were two high backed
couches.

Claire turned on the light and glanced back
at Lizzie. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty? Some water perhaps?” she
smiled. Lizzie knew there wasn’t going to be an offer for wine.
Maybe water would be a good idea.

Claire left the room
quickly, leaving Lizzie to admire the shelves and read the
bindings. American fiction from the 19
^th
century. Alcott. Hawthorne.
Twain. She pulled out a volume of Emerson and read the first page
of
Self-Reliance
.

“This is my favorite room,” the amber eyes
stepped across the threshold and held out a glass of water. “It
reminds me of my husband.”

“
Where is your husband?”
Lizzie wondered if he was in college too.

The strong dark eyes shifted. “He died.”

“
How did he die?” Lizzie
drank some water to swallow the regret of her reactionary
thought.

“Stupidity,” she swallowed. “Or arrogance. I
change my mind every day.”

“Oh.”

Claire eyed her momentarily then took in a
breath. “This room is cold. I am going to start a fire,” she went
to a fireplace between the tall bookshelves. Lizzie was impressed
how quickly she lit the large logs and created a warm blaze.

“How old are you?” Lizzie found herself
admiring her perfect figure again.

“I was 18 when I changed,” she rolled back
on her feet and stood up.

“Do you feel that young?”

“
Some days,” she eyed
Lizzie and took a few steps towards her. “Mostly it’s a strange in
between. Not old enough to be old. Not young enough to be
young.”

“When did you change?”

“1968.”

“You could be my mother,” Lizzie tried not
to confuse herself with the fact that physically she could be
Claire’s.

“I suppose I could,” Claire’s grin curved
wickedly. “It’s all relative, don’t you think?”

Lizzie tried to smile back, but nerves
weakened her knees. She went to one of the high backed couches and
looked at the fire. “Did your husband change you?”

“He did.”

“You were in love with him?”

“Yes,” Claire softened her voice and sat
slowly beside Lizzie. “We were together for more than forty
years.”

“What happened to him?” Lizzie felt rude,
but she still didn’t know if she should even care about offending
that woman.

“He fed from a tainted source long before I
met him. He was able to clean up his blood. But the fool drank bad
blood two years ago. He got ill again and died.”

“Tainted... by what? Lead?”

“Yes,” Claire looked at the cracking flames.
“He fed from someone living in an old house. He should have known
to consider the paint.”

“What did that do to him?”

“Burnt up in the sunlight. Just like some
old novel,” Claire turned back to Lizzie. “But it’s done. I can’t
undo that.”

“Have you been with anyone else since he
died?”

“A lover?” the wicked laugh focused on
Lizzie.

Lizzie felt the pace of her heart increase.
“You chose forever but you lost it.”

“I will see him again,” Claire smiled
confidently.

“
What do you mean?”
Lizzie’s heart leaped.

“We can talk about that later,” Claire
touched Lizzie’s hair. “You ran today.”

Lizzie’s body tensed as she saw the hunger
in the eyes. “Yes.”

Claire slid her finger along Lizzie’s ear
and rested on her pulse. “You like giving blood?”

“I do,” Lizzie met the hungry eyes.

“I did, too,” Claire moved her hand away
from her pulse and started to unbutton Lizzie’s sweater.

Lizzie slid off the sleeves of her sweater
and watched the long fingers start at the buttons of her blouse.
“Is the sensation of taking it better?” Lizzie stopped her and
looked back at the dark eyes.

“It’s different,” Claire froze close to
Lizzie, so close that Lizzie was taking her breath and giving it
back. “But not better.”

“Do you miss giving life to him? To the one
you love?”

Claire pulled a little further back, still
eyeing Lizzie. “Yes. Do you?”

Lizzie shut her eyes, feeling a storm of
thoughts fill her head and spin her around. “Yes.”

She opened her eyes and saw the dark eyes
waiting. Claire bowed over the curve of her shoulder. Lizzie felt
the softness of her lips press against her pulse and then pull
away. The air felt cool against the skin where Claire kissed her.
She waited for her to bend over her neck again but saw the dark
eyes meet her own once more.

Lizzie allowed her to push her shoulders
gently back against the couch. She looked up at the shadows of the
ceiling as Claire traced the curve of her body with her warm
breath. She didn’t move as the vampire felt for the zipper of her
jeans and pulled them off her legs. The coldness of the air
disappeared as the breath warmed the top of her thigh and the long
black hair brushed across her knee. Lizzie deepened her lungs when
suddenly she felt the fangs strike the vein beneath her left hip.
She felt a rush of blood coursing to her pelvis. The color of the
ceiling warmed into a blurred focus as her breaths heaved from the
base of her stomach.

She saw Claire’s satisfied smile appear
above her eyes. She sensed a warm kiss atop her forehead and felt
the whisper, but didn’t hear it. Lizzie closed her eyes and let the
smile and color of the ceiling and the rush of blood all blend into
darkness.

*****

The ferry faded into the shadows. The
moonlight was obscured by the increasing clouds, leaving a murky
reflection of the sky on the river. She knew the rain was coming.
She smelled it in the air. It would be a relief to the heat of the
past several days, a relief to her mind that was as crowded with
thoughts as the house was crowded with guests when she left.

Her heart skipped as she thought of the
brother. His eyes never stopped following her. Not even when it was
evident the new Mrs. Fulton wanted him to direct his attention
towards Harriet. Harriet was too young for those green eyes.

He came from the shadows of the trees, still
dressed in his layered suit. His broad hat shielded the green eyes.
She knew it was him. He had the white rose in his hand. She
commented about the weather. That it was about to rain. He said he
didn’t care. She watched him loosen his cravat before taking a seat
beside her. She let him take her hand as she talked of the wedding.
He didn’t care about her gossip. He didn’t care about the river or
the darkening sky.

He lifted her hand and kissed it. She didn’t
giggle or blush as all those silly girls. It was an endearing kiss,
but not the most passionate she knew. He understood that. He was
aware of her stained soul. She knew he wanted more than just a kiss
on the back of her hand.

He set her palm back down on the log and
walked away. The skies opened up and rattled with thunder when she
stood to follow him. The water blinded her eyes. She couldn’t see
but felt the cloth of her dress press against her skin. As she drew
in a breath and tried to discern the shadows from the trees and his
dark figure, strong arms lifted her off the ground. The water
dripped from the rim of his hat down along her nose. He carried her
until suddenly the rain stopped blinding her sight.

They were under the awning of the ferryman’s
cottage. He let her down slowly, keeping his arm against her waist.
Her stomach was close enough to feel the buttons of his heavy coat.
She saw the green eyes again, level with her own. She drew in a
breath and pressed her lips to his. She felt her whole body warm
with his kiss, drowning out the chill of the rain. She opened her
lips as he lifted his hands to her wet hair. She reached for the
coat of his suit and then his vest, but stopped when something cut
inside her mouth. She pulled away and saw the intensity of his
green eyes watching her. He opened his mouth to a hungry grin,
revealing teeth that were sharper than any human teeth should
be.

She stepped back. He was not… he was not
human. He could hurt her. Fear overcame her as she understood why
he was there, why he looked at her, what he wanted from her body.
Those green eyes that followed her to the garden, that made her
laugh… those green eyes froze against her own. She couldn’t move or
speak a word but felt the look of that stare. His eyes were not
like those of young Mr. Fulton, full of hate and disgust for his
desire. The green eyes looked at her with something else. Something
that wasn’t monstrous. The eyes were as human and full of yearning
as her own. She knew those eyes. She knew them a long time before
and would know them forever. She dared herself to move back to his
embrace. She lifted her chin away from him to expose her neck. He
pulled her back to a kiss and brought her into the cottage.

*****

The sound of the fire cracking alerted her
eyes to open. She saw the shadows of the flame dance on the
ceiling. Lizzie slowly took in the details of the room, remembering
the dark library and the dark haired beauty who brought her there.
She shifted herself to sitting, causing a blanket to slide off her
onto the floor. She felt the cold air, in spite of the fire. Her
jeans were neatly arranged on the opposite couch. She stood slowly
to retrieve them, feeling the gradual return of blood to her brain.
She glanced down at her thigh, seeing the two marks inside her left
hip. She touched them briefly, not feeling the pain she always
expected from those wounds. She gave another shudder from the cold
and quickly replaced her jeans.

She went to the fireplace to absorb some
more of its heat. She needed to dry off. No. No, that was a dream.
She shook her head and looked at the mantelpiece. There was an
ornate wooden clock and several small statues. A sword hung from
chains beneath the shelf. Something from the Revolution. Something
the Fulton House would relish as an acquisition. She peevishly
touched the metal, knowing Claire wouldn’t chide her for leaving
fingerprints.

She jumped as she heard the door close.
Claire walked into the room with a pitcher of water and a warm
smile. “You closed your eyes and went somewhere else.”

Lizzie watched her refill her glass and took
a sip quickly. She didn’t know what Claire expected her to say, if
she expected her to say anything at all.

“That happened to me. Alec brought me to a
party. I took something that made me out of my mind. I hooked up
with a Harvard law student. That’s all I knew. Not even his name.
Then I went home and dreamt about him for weeks. Not about that
night that I hardly remembered. It was more vivid than any dream I
had. I heard things and smelled them. I remembered the feel of
fabrics… and I knew from the design of those fabrics it was a
different time.”

“
You,” Lizzie set down the
glass, as so many ideas rose to her lips. “You knew him
before?”

“I didn’t understand it until he showed up
at another party three months later. We barely spoke. That time he
took my blood. I had another dream when I realized I was his lover
in England in 1601.”

“
I knew… I knew Ben
before.”

“
Did you see him just
now?”

“I was me. But not me,” Lizzie watched her
go to a cupboard and get a small tin canister, a green bottle, and
a spoon. She sat on the floor as she settled everything on the
table before Lizzie.

“Mmm,” Claire opened the pretty green bottle
and poured some liquid into the empty water goblet. She looked up
at Lizzie. “Were you happy?”

“I…” Lizzie sighed. “I was happy when I was
with him. As me. Elizabeth Watson.”

“But you are not with him. You just fed me.
What happened?” Claire rested the spoon on top of the glass. She
concentrated on the spoon and pulled a sugar cube from the tin
canister.

“There was another vampire.”

“Was he in the past as well?” Claire poured
some water over the sugar cube.

“Yes,” Lizzie watched the liquid in the
glass foam into a cloud.

Claire lifted her eyes to study Lizzie’s
expression as she searched her mind for something. “There was
another of Charlotte Fulton’s. Was that him?”

“You knew Charlotte?”

“
Matthew spoke of her.
She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“She was in the past,” Lizzie still looked
at the cloud in the goblet. “But I never see her.”

“
Three vampires?” Claire’s
grin shined with the giddiness of her body’s youth.

“No,” Lizzie shut her eyes. “One of them
became… he was cursed because of me.”

The giddy expression fell from Claire’s
eyes. “It is a curse.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

Claire lifted the glass and sat beside
Lizzie. She shifted the hair that fell in front of Lizzie’s
forehead. “No wonder your eyes are sad.”