Page 203 of Eternal Craving

Seconds later, he lay in my arms on the forest ground, fading with me in his thoughts. I stripped away any chance of him taking comfort in a vision of his loved ones. As I drank, all unfolded, images revealing secrets passed on from one generation to another and, as an ancient legacy dissolved, I grasped a few of them. Others slipped by, taken to the grave, like the underhanded remark Archer had made about a threat in the heart of London, which I could find no evidence of within him, and therefore didn’t believe.

Surrounded by the dark, dense woods, I cried out, my screams shaking the trees, causing the birds to scatter and the animals to burrow deeper. An eerie silence followed, as though nature itself feared to utter a sound, aware that what stood in its midst was not natural.

Holding on, I felt myself scrambling for the last remnants of humanity, fighting the drag into the very center of the unknown. Entranced, I flew through the forest, as it transformed into an urban landscape, an array of habitation.

Just inside the front door of Belshazzar’s, I took a moment to gather my thoughts. With a renewed fascination, I considered my ability to move with lightning speed. The more I resigned myself to my authentic nature, the more my supernatural adroitness increased. Having fought it, I’d stunted my potential.

Finally, I welcomed in the shadows and surrendered.

I collapsed on the first step of the staircase and slid down, rolling onto my back, gazing up at the ceiling. The low-hung central chandelier, heavy with crystal prisms, refracted candlelight in every direction.

But not the light that really mattered.

This place was no longer a home.

With a flash of thought, I now lingered at the top of the stairs, my hand resting on the thickly carved, rosewood banister that swept up and around to both east and west corridors. What an illustrious setting, a gothic place of extraordinary character that reflected the decadent lifestyle we’d once enjoyed. Just as Sunaria had predicted, Belshazzar’s could one day become a sanctuary.

The bloodhounds kept their distance, watching me from the end of the corridor.

I entered Jacob’s study, desperate to hold on to memories that were already threatening to fade.

Before the bridge completely gave way.

I picked up the letter opener from the desk and attacked the mahogany mantelpiece, scratching the design, gouging the fleur-de-lis, with confused thoughts that it had somehow betrayed me, betrayed Jacob. Failing to completely deface it, I withdrew.

Finding one of our discarded coffins in Belshazzar’s’ lower chambers, I lay down in it.

Sunaria caught me before I lowered the lid. She wavered and ran her fingertips over the edge of the casket. She appeared distraught, searching but failing to find the right words.

I yanked at the lid, trying to shut it.

Sunaria prevented it from closing. “Orpheus.”

I stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting. “Will you take care of it?”

“I have,” she whispered. “Jacob is asleep now.”

The eternal slumber of mortals – final and unyielding – leaving us, the forsaken, to dwell in endless torment, steeped in sorrow.

She climbed in beside me, softening against me, and I closed the lid on us.

Sleep edged closer, its somber promise of oblivion beckoning.

Chapter Sixty-Two

CIRCA 1745

“Do what needs to be done,” I demanded.

Marcus glanced at Sunaria and then stared at his shoes. “But he’s a harmless old man.”

I scoffed. “Since when have you become so sentimental?”

Marcus flopped down into the seat on the other side of my desk. Turning the pages of the leather-bound book, I took my time reading what Marcus had presented, our business records, and leisurely assessing the contents.

When a room remains the same, it provides the impression that time has not passed. The study was unchanged from when I’d commissioned the finishing touches; the central oak writing desk still in mint condition, the arched window overlooking London with its ever-changing view, and the large fireplace framed by its imperfect mahogany mantelpiece.

They knew well enough not to question me on that.