Falling From Eternity (A Paranormal Love Story) (2 page)

“
Will!” One of the nurses
called my name from across the parking lot. She waved at me,
squeezing between her group of friends to catch my attention. I
waved back despite myself. “Come have drinks with us!” Her voice
had taken a sultry tone, making her companions giggle
wildly.

“
Not tonight, ladies.
Maybe some other time.” I’d made the mistake of going out with them
once; I wouldn’t do it again. They whined their disappointment as I
strolled to my SUV and hopped in.

The engine roared to life, so I sat
back allowing it to warm up before taking the long drive home. My
hunger was growing, and I cursed myself for not eating enough
before my shift; another reason why I couldn’t, and shouldn’t have
drinks with the ladies tonight. They would likely end up being my
drink of choice. I couldn’t fall off the wagon now; I’d come too
far.

My thermostat showed the engine had
warmed up enough, so I blasted the heat to defrost the windows. The
nurses drove by, honking their horns like an animalistic mating
call for me to follow them. I closed my eyes, refusing to look
their way. They were decent girls and very attractive, but I was
too hungry and too irritated to deal with them right now. Drinking
alcohol didn’t do much of anything for me anyway and no bartender
in town could mix a drink the way I liked it. When I did go out, I
did it socially when the situation called for it, but right now,
the situation called for something far different.

I couldn’t wait any longer, and put
the vehicle in gear as I pulled out of the parking lot. The
windshield hadn’t defrosted completely, but I didn’t need it to, my
eyesight was sharp enough that I could see clearly, penetrating the
sheen of ice. The two lane highway weaved through towering pine
trees toward the city of Denton. It was a nice, quiet place. I
thought it would be a pleasant change from the big cities I was
used to living in. It was always easier to go unnoticed in the
larger places, but for some reason I had wanted a change. The peace
and quiet had actually made it harder for me to sleep at first, but
it didn’t take long to adjust. I eventually tuned into the nature
around me and found it quite soothing. My move to this small town
had been out of character for me, and an act of rebellion according
to my kind. Maybe I was tired of going unnoticed, or maybe I was
sick of feeling like I didn’t exist. But, I was really just running
away; desperate to see if I could be more than the monster I was.
To see if I could bury that monster once and for all.

Those very thoughts had been the
trigger for my transformation. What was the point in living forever
when no one knew you existed? Why was immortality given to those
who do nothing but take life away?

The main street through town was
bustling with activity as I passed through. Well, with as much
activity as this town could manage. The holidays had just ended,
and everyone was clamoring to prepare for the new year. It held no
excitement for me anymore; just another year among many. Would
there really be anything special about this one? I doubted it. I’d
seen the invention of electricity, automobiles, and television. I
watched as man walked on the moon and as countries rose and fell.
But now, the world had grown stagnant for me. Everything repeated
in a tedious, repetitive circle. I’d never been so uninterested in
all my existence.

Until I grew curious about that very
thing.

Existence.

What was the meaning of it
all, and what was the point in living if you were only going to die
in the end? There had to be life after death. If there wasn’t, then
life was crueler than I had ever imagined. And I was crueler than I
had ever imagined. I was a creature of the night, a slayer of lives
and I’d snuffed countless souls out of existence. I felt like a
grim reaper, and none of my kind thought that was a bad
thing…even
I
hadn’t always thought that was a bad thing.

To be honest, I used to love every
second of it.

The townspeople waved merrily at me as
I drove past their shops. I flashed a smile, waving back at them;
trying to display as much festivity as I could muster while my
tires crunched through the snow. They’d welcomed me since the first
day I arrived. I felt so alive here. More alive than I’d ever felt,
even when I’d felt my body burn with life after a fresh kill. It
would be hard to leave this town behind. Of course, if I stayed and
they realized what I was…well, they wouldn’t be so friendly that’s
for sure. Images of pitchforks and angry mobs flashed through my
mind. No, that wouldn’t be pleasant. They wouldn’t be able to hurt
me, but I would defend myself if I had to. I just didn’t want to
have to.

I ran my fingers through my brown hair
trying to erase those thoughts from my mind. I didn’t want to think
about having to hurt these people. Except of course for Phil; him I
wouldn’t mind devouring.

A wicked grin spread across my face as
I turned off the main drag. Two blocks down, I turned to the right
and pulled to a stop in the alleyway beside a small Italian eatery,
Mama Mia’s. The smell of fresh baked bread and garlic filled my
senses as I hopped out of my car and hustled up the back stairs. I
couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. Someone like me,
living above a restaurant that smelled like garlic twenty-four
seven was completely unheard of. I actually liked the smell,
despite the myths that it would kill me, which were utterly bogus.
Of all the myths about my kind, only one of them was true. Even if
people found out what I was, they didn’t have the strength or speed
to accomplish it.

I took the steps two at a time,
noticing that Maria had swept the snow off for me. Maria was the
owner of Mama Mia’s and she was almost as wonderful as Hazel. She
was a spicy Italian through and through, and despite her old age,
seventy-one she had told me, I was convinced she was too stubborn
to die. When I’d first moved here, I spent many nights sitting at a
corner table after they closed, sharing a glass of wine with her.
She’d tell me about Italy, and I listened with rapt attention. She
described it rather well, too. I never told her I’d lived there for
many years. I think she enjoyed having someone to talk to, and I
did too. She was a very lively old woman, but there was a
bitterness about her despite her kind heart. I later learned her
story from a gossip crazed woman at the library counter, and I then
understood the anger that wouldn’t release its hold on Maria. She’d
had a son, her only child, who had lost his life in the war.
Overcome with grief, her husband had taken his own life just a few
short years later, leaving Maria all alone in the world to handle
the grief and pain of loss all by herself. It made me angry hearing
the story; not only because I felt these women should be
befriending Maria instead of gossiping about her, but because her
husband had chosen to leave her. Though in all my years I have
never been married, I would never do that to the woman I
loved.

Since that day, I made an effort to
drop in from time to time and check on her. She feigned annoyance,
grumbling that she could take care of herself, but when she thought
I wasn’t looking I could see a small smile break through the
grimace on her face.

She always made sure the stairs were
clear of snow, and every once in a while she’d leave a basket of
fresh cooked Italian food on my doorstep. I worried about a woman
her age walking up and down my steep steps, but she wouldn’t hear
of it when I told her she didn’t have to.

My lock clicked open as I turned the
key. I sighed in relief as I walked into the living room of my
apartment, tracking snow all over the entry. I shut the door behind
me, latching the chain lock even though the worst crimes ever
committed in this town were probably parking tickets. In all
honesty, I wasn’t locking it to keep the outside world out, but
more me from the outside world. I was always overly cautious in
that area. I never wanted to risk an accident. I didn’t want to
hurt anyone anymore.

I’d buried that monster, or…I was
trying to.

I stowed my sunglasses inside the
breast pocket of my wool jacket where I always kept them, and hung
it on the coat rack by the door. Kicking off my shoes as I walked
into the kitchen, I pulled open the refrigerator door and pushed
past the food I kept for appearances before clutching the thing I
craved most. My favorite mug sat in the sink from before my shift,
so I gave it a good rinse before filling it with the crimson
liquid, and popping it in the microwave. I pressed in the exact
time, one minute forty-five seconds, not too hot and not too
cold.

My body began to shudder both from
hunger and anticipation. It was getting harder and harder to manage
it. The more I fought my natural urges the more I needed to eat. No
one told me this would happen, but then again, I didn’t know of
anyone who had attempted what I had. Did that make me
crazy?

Several of the elders thought I was
going through a phase, they even thought it was amusing and were
certain I would return to my kind when I realized how pointless my
search for the meaning of life and death was; how futile it was to
fight what came naturally. Maybe they were right. Could I really be
more than what I was? It has been years since I started this
journey and I have yet to find the answers I seek.

The ding of the microwave broke
through my questioning thoughts and brought me back to the task at
hand. The smell was intoxicating as I opened the door and laced my
fingers around the porcelain handle. I brought the life liquid to
my lips and sipped greedily, enjoying its warmth as it slid down my
throat filling my insides with energy and strength. After finishing
half the contents I felt my body calm, and my nerves ease away as I
licked the remnants off my lips. I could relax now.

My apartment wasn’t much, but it was
spacious. There was plenty of room for my books, which I usually
didn’t have in the city. I’d been able to read novels that had long
been hidden in boxes because I never had room to display them. Now
I had nearly an entire wall. I loved just looking at the spines and
recalling the stories that lay within. I felt like I’d lived a
thousand lives just looking at them, and not just the poor excuse
for one that I was stuck in for all eternity.

My current read, Pride and Prejudice,
lay open atop my end table. I had time to get through a few
chapters before going to sleep. I set my mug on the coffee table
and walked over to the fireplace. It had been a while since I last
lit it, so I swept away the remaining ashes and placed two logs on
the grate. The wood sparked to life instantly, filling the room
with a warm glow and the wonderful sound of a crackling
fire.

I slid across my brown, leather couch
and grabbed my book as I rested my head against the arm of the
sofa. Reading had always been one of my passions, and after well
over two hundred years of life, I hadn’t gotten tired of it. The
pages were as familiar to me as anything I’d ever known. Even
though I could recite the stories word for word, I still scanned
the chapters with excitement as if I were reading them for the
first time. I sipped from my mug as I turned the pages lazily. Mr.
Bingley was giving a ball at Netherfield. I missed balls. The
eighteenth century had been my favorite era, and I wished I could
live an eternity in the past, rather than passing through time as I
was. What I wouldn’t give to be surrounded by the people who so
loved the art of life. Where music, language, and knowledge were so
well-regarded. Men were true gentlemen and women were poised
ladies. I know that by current standards I sounded like a romantic
sap, and maybe I was, but life had been happier for me then. Even
though I was afflicted with an insatiable appetite for blood, there
was still a measure of civility. Perhaps that is why I grew so fond
of Hazel, she reminded me of the people and life I had once
adored.

Who I was had died a little after I’d
left Europe. My master sought to conquer America, and his thirst
for power soon became my own. Gaining social status hadn’t been
enough for him anymore, so I followed obediently.

A familiar nudge brushed against my
feet. I dropped the book to my chest to spy Tom; the stray, black
cat I’d fostered, rubbing against my toes. I smiled at the mangy
creature, wiggling my toes at him. I’d never liked cats before, but
he’d grown on me somehow. He showed up not long after I moved in
and I haven’t been able to get rid of him since.

“
Hello, Tom. Catch any
mice today?” I asked him as he strolled up the side of the couch to
begin rubbing his head on the corner of my book. “Got an itch?” I
scratched his head vigorously, and a purr erupting from him like a
volcano made me chuckle.

I sighed as the fire began to die
down. I was looking forward to sleeping, but not so much to what
was in store for me the next day. I set the book back on the end
table, taking care to save the place I had left off. There wasn’t
much left of the small fire so I poked at the embers until there
was nothing remaining but flickering ashes.

Tom had gained a lot of weight since
he’d weaseled his way into my heart, and I heard his paws thudding
heavily against the floor as he made his way to my room. He knew
when it was time to sleep. I glanced back into the living room when
I had reached the doorway, a strange feeling coming over me. I
always felt like I’d forgotten something, but no matter how hard I
tried, I couldn’t remember what it was. There was something missing
in my life, in my unending existence, and I was determined to
figure it out.