Immortal Darkness (Phantom Diaries #3) (8 page)

“How did you become immortal? Could I become immortal? Or could you become human again?” I glanced hopefully at him. “Would you if you could?”

Squeezing me tight, he planted an affectionate and promising kiss to my temple. “I’d rather spend the next century with you and die in your arms than to go on living an eternity without ever knowing the pleasure of truly loving you.”

His words were sweet, poetic, but how realistic was it?

“Look, I don’t know exactly how I came to be immortal. It’s not something that came up and struck me one day. It was a slow realization, seeing the world around me change, age, while I remained the same year after year. Perhaps because, in part, I feel the years on my soul, but they just don’t appear on my face.”

“What can we do then if you don’t know how to reverse your immortality or share it with me?  I can't picture myself walking hand in hand with you when I’m sixty-four and you still look as handsome and adorable as you do now.”

His fingers came to my back and worked at the strain of the conversation, plying my skin up to my shoulders, slowly and softly.  “I’ll find a way to make this right.  I’ll find out what we can do to be together.”

“That sounds good,” I muttered softly as I leaned into his chest and allowed his fingers to work their way over my body.

The lure of sleep invaded my body, bringing me to depths of escape.  Just before I dozed off completely, I heard Eric’s plaintive lament.

“So much for seducing you with candles and scented oils.”

Chap
t
er
7

T
he next day found the Opera House abuzz with constant activity as the new production,
The Traitor
, took up so much of everyone’s time.  Costumes for the dozens of characters came out of the costume department with impressive speed, while the musicians already had a handle on all the material, including some of the more complex numbers. Though a few cast members complained about the difficulty of their singing parts, most were right on track.

“I’ve never heard you sound so perfect,” Aaron whispered in my ear as he came up behind me.

I’d just finished my last number and stood watching some of the other singers practice, enchanted and amazed by their ability.

“I think this role suits you better than any of us would have thought.”

“I’m happy to see you're satisfied with my performance.”

“You sticking around here much longer?”

I could hear the invitation in his voice, the desire to have me go home with him.  “I just wanted to hear Helen sing Revenge.  It’s such an emotionally charged song. The melody gives me shivers and the lyrics… It’s almost eerie.” I wrapped my arms around my waist.

“Then what?”

“I was planning to go home for a quick bite to eat… maybe come back here to see if anyone is still working.  Maybe take a crack at that finale.”

“Mind if I tag along?” His hand gently lay over mine, friendly, platonic and harmless, yet… “I wanted to look over a modulation modification in Heart’s Blood.”

I nodded and turned my attention to the stage as Helen took her spot and awaited the first strings of her song.  The moment the first note sounded, her face, her body, right down to her clenched fists, took on the emotion the song demanded.

Contorted in pain and anger, her face reflected the essence of every word.

I shivered and Aaron wrapped his arms around me, his friendly hands taking on a more possessive hold. 

“Cold?” he whispered softly.

Glancing back, I shook my head. “The way she sings this song… It gives me goose bumps. I almost expect her to come down and kill me.”

“Come on,” he said as she finished.  “Let’s get you home.”

The quick walk to my apartment was riddled with shop talk as Aaron highlighted a few of the changes he wanted to make; intensifying a lyric here, repeating a chorus there and eliminating a long, pregnant pause that broke the pace.

The moment I turned the key and pushed open my door, his topic of concern turned to me.  “Hell, this place still hasn’t warmed up.  How in the world did you manage to sleep here last night?”

Shrugging, I stepped inside the freezing apartment, reluctant to let Aaron know I’d spent the night at Eric’s place. I also didn’t want to let him think the cold bothered me so much. “It’s not that bad.  You’re just cold because it was so hot at the Opera House.”

Before I could enter further into the apartment, Aaron grabbed my elbow and pulled me back.  “Stop sugar-coating it, Annette.  Something is wrong with this apartment.  If you stay here, your voice won’t even hold until rehearsals are over.  You can’t stay here.”

“Aaron, you’re exaggerating.” But even as I spoke, my teeth began to chatter.

Grinning and biting back on a full out laugh, Aaron looked at me.  “Should I wait until icicles form on your lashes before convincing you that you need to come stay with me?”

“Aaron… I can’t always be at your place.”

“Did I not behave like a gentleman the other night?”

“Yes, Aaron, you were perfect.”

“Well, then?”

“All my stuff is here.  This is my home.  Besides, if I spend too much time at your place, I’m afraid it will end up changing things between us.  I wouldn’t want you to come to expect anything of me.”

He took a hold of my hands and held them up to kiss one hand then the other. “My dearest, Annette, you're overthinking it. Not that I want to pull rank, but I am your boss, and as your boss I need to ensure you are healthy and well taken care of.  If something happens to you before the show even opens, I’ll be the laughing stock, not to mention how I’ll be written up in the papers as the producer who allowed his star to live in unlivable conditions.”

My whole body began to shake as the cold penetrated my coat and pierced through my skin, chilling my bones.  “All right,” I finally said.  “Let me grab some things.”

I pulled away and hurried to my room to throw as much clothes as I could into a duffle bag.  My hands shook as I reached for a pair of warm boots.

“This is really ridiculous,” Aaron remarked as he came to stand in the doorway.  “It’s colder in here than it is outside.  Are you sure your super hasn’t turned on the air conditioning by mistake.”

“I don’t know.”  I shoved one last sweater into my bag and hurried past Aaron.  “I just want to get out of here.”

********

“You look pensive,” Aaron said.

I nodded and continued to stare out the car window. The inexplicable chill of my apartment had sent me running out, but now that I was here, in Aaron’s car, I couldn’t help wonder where we were going; not in the literal sense, but in the emotional sense.

We passed the coffee shop Chace has so often taken me to. He was so sweet, and I still harbored the guilt of our last encounter. His eyes, his desire, his love for me all haunting me as I tried to figure out the confusing signals I’m constantly dealt with.

My head knew Chace was a good guy. He would be a faithful boyfriend, always ready to do what he could to make me happy. He’d always be there for me, sure, reliable. And any pragmatic would point to Aaron as the right choice.  After all, what girl in her right mind would turn away a man as successful, handsome, and kind as he was.

The car turned a corner and the Empire State Building came into view.  I couldn’t help but smile as my thoughts drifted to my time with Eric. Just thinking about him brought my temperature up.  Without thinking, I reached for the thick scarf I’d wrapped around my neck and tugged it away from my burning skin.

Eric, I thought with a tug to my heart; beautiful, sexy, mysterious Eric.  I smiled as my mind’s eye filled with a vision of him.

Immortal Eric.

The vision disappeared.  I swallowed painfully as the reality of our relationship hit me once again.  It was so easy, when I allowed myself to daydream about him, to forget what he really was.  I could so easily get caught up in the sexual attraction, the animal magnetism, the desire and the passion.

Facing the truth was like hitting a wall.

“You okay,” Aaron said, breaking through my reverie.

Another hit of guilt smacked into my gut.  I turned to him, offered him a half smile and nodded.  He put his hand to my knee.  I knew it was meant to reassure, but for the moment, it only left me with more questions and concerns.

Dragging my feet, I got out of the car and followed Aaron up to his place.

“Look,” he said as he headed to the coffee table.  “I know you're a bit sad about having to leave your apartment. I know how much you treasure your independence. Believe me, just because you're staying here doesn’t mean I’ll be on your back all the time.  I’ll leave you plenty of space.”

“Thanks,” I said, forcing an appreciative grin.

“But I know what will really get your mind off your apartment.”  He set my duffle bag down on the floor and reached for Kristine’s journal. “Reading through this.”

Suddenly the answer to my questions about Eric were right there… in Aaron’s hand.

“Yes.” I hurried to him, unable to hide my enthusiasm.

He set a kiss on my forehead and handed me the book.  “Why don’t you kick back, and relax.  I’ll bring you a nice glass of wine and you can read through this as I see what I can whip up for dinner.”

I glanced skeptically at him.

“Okay,” he conceded. “I’ll see what I can order.”

For the first time that day I relaxed. Settling amidst the plush cushions that covered his sofa, I opened the journal.

The first pages were relatively tame and mundane.  Though a century separated Kristine’s generation from mine, her concerns, her joys and her attraction to boys resembled that of any other teenager.

I flipped through the pages, eager to find something more telling; something about Eric.

And there it was… 

May 17
^th
, 1881 

Chere Journal:

I’ve met the man I’ve long dreamt of meeting.   He was at The Masquerade ball the Duquettes held last night.  Despite the mask that partially obscured his face, I was instantly drawn to him.

Tall and strong, he stood head and shoulder above every man there.  His dark hair, almost as black as a crow’s feather, fell over his shoulders.  No one dared say it, but there was something barbaric about him, something savage and wild.

Every woman in the room felt it.  Every man in the room feared it.

I was mesmerized by it and wanted to know more.

He was a regal beast and no one knew who he could be.  He danced little and seemed uncomfortable with the thought.  I waited for him to come around, to notice me and dance with me, but when he remained on the fringe of the ball, I knew I’d have to make the first move.

It’s not a role I’m unfamiliar with.

I was greatly rewarded for my troubles.  He spoke few words, but those words were powerful and intelligent. Before long, our conversation turned to music, to opera, to the arts.