Eternal Eden

 

  I was still fuming from our conversation, and how I’d let Patrick persuade me into agreement, when we pulled up to Townsend Manor. I didn’t wait for William to come around and open the door for me as normal. I even slammed it shut after I got out just so they’d both know—if they weren’t already convinced—that I was not happy.

  “It doesn’t look like I’m the only one with a temper,” Patrick muttered over my shoulder once he leapt over the front seat and walked past me.

  I glared at him.

  When William came around the car, and I saw the concern on his face, my glare evaporated. No matter how angry I was, there’s no way I could glare with any kind of feeling at his face.

  The three of us climbed the stairs together; the two of them on either side of me like bookends. I reincarnated my glare at the Manor before me—it was the reason for my anger and worry anyways, inanimate as it was.

  Patrick shoved through the front door and held it open for William and me.

  “Welcome back.” A voice greeted us immediately.

  William stiffened and took a side-step in front of me, putting me out of view from the figure coming towards us. I didn’t need my vision to know who it was. The authority in his voice and the condescension between the words identified who it was.

  “John,” William responded through gritted teeth. “We were just taking Bryn upstairs. It’s been a long journey and we’re all looking forward to some much needed rest.”

  “I’m sure you are,” John said. He must have come to a stop in front of us because his footsteps could no longer be heard, but I couldn’t see him due to the tower fortressed in front of me. “Did you have a pleasant journey, Miss Dawson?”

  William somehow managed to tense even further when John addressed me. I stepped out from behind him, and I felt his anger switch to anxiety.  

  “Yes, I did,” I said, now in full view of John.

  John’s smile erupted, which whenever revealed, always gave me the feeling of hundreds of furry tarantula legs scurrying over my bare skin. His eyes didn’t leave me when he addressed the man radiating his emotions beside me. “I’d like to talk with you and Patrick first, before you retire for the evening. I’d like to find out how the operation with Mr. Lowe went.”

  William didn’t respond. His eyes stayed fixed on John’s that continued to burn like lasers through me. There was something new in his eyes tonight, something that hadn’t been there before our departure yesterday. There was a flicker within the sapphire-blue and a widening of the black pupils that looked like anticipation. It made me uneasy, and I wondered what had transpired to invoke this emotion.

  Patrick nodded and crossed his arms. “Sure, no problem-o. William and I will stay.” Less attuned ears wouldn’t have noticed the emphasis Patrick put on his brother’s name, as if ordering him to stay.

  Not waiting for a formal excusal, I turned around and allowed one quick look into William’s eyes. I expected to find them burning with the same raging fires I felt within him, but they were flat and perfectly expressionless. It was chilling to see the shell of the man I loved, absent of emotion.

  “Good evening, then,” I said, making it sound like it was for the three men I was departing from, but I’d said it for him. I hinted a glimmer of his response in his eyes when I passed by.

  I was uneasy leaving William behind with John, but Patrick was there, and William and John had gotten along for the past ten years without a hitch. I was the catalyst that sparked the Immortal testosterone to flare between these two men when I was near. I took the stairs by twos as I headed up to my room, eager to be comforted by a pair of comfy pajamas and the hope I could shut down the endless thoughts running through my mind for a few hours.

  I shoved open the door to my room and practically screamed in surprise.

  Stella was gliding through my room with the kind of even grace you’d expect a ghost to move in. She was carrying a silver vase that cascaded with an unusual variety of rose. As my eyes searched the rest of my room, I found more than just this one vase she carried—Ithere were dozens. I sucked in an uneasy breath; although I wasn’t certain who they were from, there was one name that popped to mind.

   “They’re from John,” Stella announced, confirming the name in my head. “They’re the fire and ice variety—he had them special ordered.”

  The fire that burnt within me extinguished into a wisp of smoke as ice crackled throughout, intertwining every piece of me. Two things had made me anxious in less than one minute—the new glimmer in John’s eyes, and the excessive roses poisoning my room with a scent that should have been pleasant, but instead entered my nose smelling as repulsive as burning flesh.

   “He wanted you to feel welcome here and thought some flowers would do just that,” she said, sounding contemptuous. She set the vase down on the coffee table, before crossing the room towards me like a Porsche—redlining every gear.

  She smoked to a stop in front of me, eyeing me over with such disapproval I looked down to make sure I didn’t have some huge stain on my shirt.  “Did you hear about the Betrothal Ball we will be hosting here next Saturday?”

   “The Betrothal Ball?” I questioned, lifting my eyes back to hers once I was certain my shirt was stain-free.

   A smile pulled at her lips. “Every so often, the Immortals of each Alliance are called together for an event known as the Betrothal Ball. This is when the Council announces their selected Betrothals, and the first time when these soon to be United couples discover who it is they will spend forever with,” she said with a new tone in her voice. It sounded wistful, maybe even hopeful. “A Unity ceremony is arranged shortly thereafter—similar to the Mortal event called a wedding—but our version is far more elaborate.”

  My thoughts turned wistful when I thought of a certain Betrothal and Unity I longed for.

  “It’s an incredibly significant event for us Immortals—a time when a select few are rewarded for their selflessness and years of service to their callings.”

  She inspected the bouquet of flowers immediately in front of her absently, too caught up in her impassioned speech to pay much attention to anything else. “You know they’re saying John is to be granted a Betrothal. That’s why the Council is here so early, of course.”

  While I should have been relieved John would likely be Betrothed to another in a week’s time, the tarantula legs crept over my skin again.

  “They’re here inspecting his Betrothed-to-be. A Union with someone as important and high ranking as him is taken very seriously. The Council spends a large amount of time selecting just the right companion.” She talked to the bouquet before her, but her words were meant for the only other Immortal object in the room.

  “The rumor is . . . I am to be the one selected for John.” Her lips pulled up in an approving smile, her eyes dazzling sparks of hope. I didn’t miss the inflection in her voice that had said this more as a warning to me, as opposed to passing on a piece of information. She was warning me to stay away, she’d staked her claim. I couldn’t understand why Stella would perceive me as being a threat to her with all her exquisite beauty—but she obviously did.

  “That’s great, Stella. You two would make a great couple.” I didn’t have to fake the genuineness in my response.

  Removing her eye from the arrangement—whose roses had white petals that were outlined in crimson red—she examined my face carefully, as if looking for any hint of deceit in my response. Apparently satisfied, her expression changed into one reminiscent of Annabelle—exuberant and wide- eyed. When she opened her mouth, her words almost gushed like Annabelle’s as well. “Have you heard anything about the Ballad of the Betrothed?”

  Since I hadn’t even heard of the Betrothal Ball, I was surprised she asked if I’d heard of the Ballad. I shook my head.

  “Once the Council reads the list of Betrothals, an orchestra immediately plays the Ballad, where all the newly announced couples dance with one another. No one else is allowed to
dance—it’s practically considered a sacrilege,” she emphasized, her eyes growing large. “The dance is almost as sacred as the first night of the couple’s Union.”

  I nodded my head, understanding the significance—the first night of their Union where their pale blue eyes were lost in a glowing sea of sapphire.

  The dreaminess swirling in her eyes hardened, before they pointed in the direction of my bed. “There’s a gift for you from John over there,” she said, turning on her heel and heading to the door. “Again, John wanted you to feel welcome,” she reiterated, before she red-lined through the door, leaving behind her signature chill.

  I saw a crimson-colored, velvet box, but I didn’t rush to it as most women would. From the shape, I knew it contained some kind of flashy jewel. I trudged over to my bed, ignoring the gift laying on my nightstand beside one of the dozens of rose arrangements. I took off my jeans and crawled into bed, no longer interested in the cozy pajamas.

  The box screamed at me though—it wouldn’t stay silent—so I picked it up and threw it across the room with all my Immortal might, not even caring to see the sparkling contents within it. The wall opposite my bed stopped the flying box and it thudded to the floor, tossing the contents held within it over the marble.

  More ice. I sighed and thumped my pillow, trying to make it mold around my head just right so the sparkling strand of diamonds lying across the room wouldn’t menace me all night. I longed for my fire, who was three doors down from me.

   

  I felt the warmth of the rising sun on my face before I let my eyes to view it, letting it make its way into my soul and brighten my mood. My mood was perhaps a bit more impressionable today, given that Joseph would be coming for me tomorrow morning so I would finally be free of Townsend Manor.

  While I’d begged, pleaded, and pouted my way to persuade William to go with me, he’d remained adamant that he would not. Not if we were to make it look like a clean case of a young Immortal (me) rejecting the newly acquired Immortal life and escaping from the strict confines of all its codes—a fairly believable and common occurrence, according to him.

  If we disappeared at the same time, John’s suspicions would arise, and William knew John would eventually put together the pieces and make the connections. Both Patrick and William assured me John would never stop hunting for the two of us—that our betrayal and his wounded pride would serve as endless fuel to his hunt, and we would never find that small measure of peace two people should be able to expect.

  Their conviction and assurances on this had satiated me enough so as to settle (again) for William remaining behind for one month. During this time, he could come up with some excuse so as to be transferred to another location, before finding his way back to me, where I would wait for him in Pacific City with his family.

  The thought of one long month with his family was marginally terrifying, but the knowledge I wouldn’t once see his face or hear his voice, was the most horrendous kind of hell I could imagine. The past five days had been a private kind of torture for me having him so close, but never having a private moment for even the quickest of embraces . . . what would another month feel like?

  Hell, I told myself again—an intolerable hell, but one I’d have to find a way to endure.

  Patrick would be staying indefinitely, he’d decided. He and William had gained such valuable information, and there was still so much more to be uncovered, that he felt strongly about staying with the mission. He’d continue to visit the family on the rare occasion he could sneak away.

  I was actually sad when he told William and me he’d be staying behind. Irritating as he could be, I’d come to genuinely enjoy his company.

  The warm fingers of sunshine continued to tickle my cheek, and I allowed my eyes to open and gaze at the yellow-tinged brightness coming through the open balcony doors. It was Saturday morning, the day of the much anticipated Betrothal Ball.

  William had been uptight about the whole affair and grimaced whenever he heard anyone mention it; which had been a regular affair the entire week with all the preparation going into it. I didn’t understand why he was so ill at ease with the whole event; it didn’t sound that terrible to me when Stella had described it. A bunch of Immortals dressed in their finest, enjoying food, drink, music and dancing.

  What was so harmful with that? I might even get to dance with William tonight. I instantly perked up at the thought. Since my last official day in class with William had been yesterday, we should both be able to excuse one tiny dance together as being a farewell exchange from a professor to his student. William and I would have our dance tonight—I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  John was under the impression he would be taking over my studies on Monday morning. I’d told him how much I was looking forward to it yesterday when he’d interrupted our class in the library—little did he know I would be gone tomorrow morning. John would have a new woman to distract his attention with after tonight, anyways—according to Stella—once the Council rewarded him by granting him a Betrothal . . .  

  With the impact of a wrecking ball, it hit me—I at last understood why William had been so impossibly against anything related to the Ball. He was one of the names on the Council’s list tonight that would be announced. A mate selected for him—a Union to plan.

  I shot up in bed. My stomach was already knotting together in pretzels. He’d been with John’s Alliance for over ten years now, a model Immortal, and a very gifted one too. The Council would want to reward him. The knots in my stomach churned and pulled tighter.

  I stood up and stumbled to the open balcony. I sucked in several deep breaths, trying to quiet the voices in my head that kept taunting me, screaming that William would be Betrothed to another tonight, would dance the first dance of the Betrothed, and would be expected to Unite with this woman one day in the near future. I knew that him putting in for a transfer, and simply getting lost in the mix, would not be so easily dismissed if he was Betrothed to another.

  Who did the Council have planned for him—was she beautiful, would he know her, and, of course, the most terrifying question of all . . . would he grow to love her? My mind was plummeting into too many dark questions and scenarios. I needed more than just the fresh air on my balcony to calm my spirit. I needed to get out of this place whose brilliant walls were insulated with evil.

  I rushed into the closet and came back out a half minute later, prepared with running shoes and loose clothing for however long and far I needed to run to quiet my mind. I shoved through my bedroom door and ran down the stairs. I felt the beginnings of hysterics emerge the moment my hand rested over the handle of the Manor’s front door. I heaved it open, lunged down the steps, and was in a full sprint two strides into my run; silencing the hysterics before they could take full effect.

  I focused all my concentration on the space ahead of me and the pounding feet beneath me. I concentrated on the cool morning air I drew into my lungs and the ever present dampness that hung in the Oregon atmosphere dewing across my legs. I’d been a decent runner as a Mortal, but my new speed exhilarated me, and the might of my fears served as the nitrous to my body’s engine, propelling me at otherworldly speeds across the meandering hills.

  A black streak came into my peripheral vision, and when I turned my head to investigate, I saw someone else running a way’s off. The speed it possessed identified it as an Immortal, and as it grew closer, the silver-blond hair and confident swagger (even in a run) identified who it was. 

  “Hey-a, Bryn,” he called out, slowing to a jog in front of me.

  I came to an abrupt stop. “Good morning, Patrick. What are you doing out here?” His three-piece suit was telling he was not out on an early morning run like I was.

  “Following you,” he replied, as if the answer should have been obvious. “William asked me to get some information to you regarding you two’s little escape plan, and when I saw you exit the Manor this morning with all engines burning”—he smil
ed, looking amused—“I figured this would be the perfect time.”

  “You were really flying. If I knew how long it would take to catch you, I would have changed into more appropriate footwear.” He lifted one foot up to display the clumps of mud spackling his expensive looking, black wing-tips. “Why the need for such a raging sprint at this unholy hour?”

  My gut reaction was to tell Patrick to mind his own business—to deliver his message and get packing so as to leave me alone with my wallowing.  Then I looked into his face, and saw the similar strong jaw-line and the same shaped eyes of William’s, and my response flowed easily. “It finally hit me why William’s been so upset about the event tonight.” I couldn’t make my mouth form around the three syllable word beginning with the second letter of the alphabet—the very thing threatening to take away my every meaning in life.

  Patrick shot me an unimpressed look and raised one brow. “You did, huh? Wow, you must have been in agony this whole week racking your brain as to why my overanxious brother would be so uneasy about the . . . event,” he said, his sarcasm leaking through his teeth.

  “Why wouldn’t one of you tell me William is going to be on the Council’s list of Betrothals tonight?” I cried accusingly at him. “Did you think it would somehow be easier for me to find out tonight once they announce who William’s expected to be United with?” I didn’t worry about hiding the anger and rancor in my voice. I knew Patrick could take it.

  For one moment, Patrick’s eyes narrowed and his nose wrinkled in confusion, and then he burst into full fits of laughter. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the echoes from his laughter could have been heard back at the Manor. I fumed while he struggled to recompose himself.

  “You’re funny, Bryn, you know that?” He said, once he’d regained a decorum of composure.

  I didn’t respond.

  “That’s why you’re so upset? Because you think William’s name is going to be on that list tonight?” His eyes stared at me incredulously, his laughter coming to an end.

  “Yes,” I muttered. “Why wouldn’t that give me reason for worry?” I tried to match the same tone and expression he used with me whenever he thought something should be so obvious.

  “Trust me, that’s not the reason he’s worried about tonight . . . and his name is certainly not one on the list,” he assured, chuckling to himself again.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  He contemplated for a minute before answering, “William’s always been a serious, determined, pensive kind of person . . . not charming, witty and verbose like myself.” He smiled ruefully as I narrowed my eyes at him. “He’s accentuated these characteristics of himself even more since entering John’s Alliance. He hasn’t earned the reputation for being one of the best professors here without exhibiting extreme dedication and a cold sort of personality.”

  The momentary seriousness in his face washed away and amusement returned. “There’s no way the Council would ever punish a woman with a Union to William.”

  His explanation didn’t appease me, so my arms remained crossed with doubt.

  “Come on, Bryn.” He nudged me gently with his hand. “I told you I’d always tell you the truth, no matter what. Right?”

  He waited for my response, so I nodded my head begrudgingly.

  “Well, that’s the truth. William is not going to be Betrothed to anyone tonight, and you know even if he was, it would mean nothing to him. You’re all he’s ever wanted . . . and the reason he’s been so wound up about tonight is because he’s worried about you.”

  “Me? What’s he so worried about me for?” I understood why William worried about me around John and the Council, or when I was alone—but why so especially tonight . . . on the eve of my escape from this place?

  “Awww, you know how he is,” he said, lightheartedly. “Personally, I think he’s a little nervous about seeing you all dolled up tonight after that last attention-grabbing number you wore.” His eyes filled with teasing accusation. “And you know how jealous he can be. What’s he going to do if another guy asks you to dance?”

  “Rip his arms off,” I muttered back, my anger and anxiety receding.

  He laughed again. “You’re probably not too far off the mark there, and then all of us would have no choice but to run for our very Immortal lives.” He wrapped one arm around my shoulder in comfort, but it felt awkward—it wasn’t the arm that belonged there.

  “Come on, let’s head back.” He dropped his arm and stared at his shoes pointedly again. “And could we reign in the horsepower on our return trip to salvage what’s left of my lovely Italian leather?”

  “I was just getting warmed up,” I whined. “Do we have to go back so soon?”

  “We do,” he said with finality. “You’ve got to go get pretty for William and I’ve got to get pretty for all the ladies.”

  I laughed, and its release calmed me. “Pretty, indeed,” I teased him. “You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever met.”

  He popped his shirt collar up and slid an expensive looking pair of aviators into place. “Try not to be jealous.”

  We both laughed, and I nudged him. “I’ll do my best.”  

  We started back to the Manor at a much more relaxed pace than I’d left it. I leaned over and picked a purple wildflower, and accompanied it with a yellow one a few feet in front of it.

  Patrick was content to let me tarry on at this pace, stopping every so often to add another piece to my bouquet. “Joseph will meet you at dawn tomorrow morning at William’s houseboat on the lake . . . he said you would know how to find it.” There was a tinge of a question in his statement.

  “What?” I exclaimed, the flowers falling from my hand. “Did you say William’s houseboat? He told me it was John’s.”

  Patrick’s face flashed with remorse. “He’s going to kill me—” he groaned.

  “You’re Immortal, he can’t kill you,” I shot back. “Answers, Patrick . . . now.” I tapped my foot, and while I’d thought it such an unusual response of impatience when I’d seen it performed by someone else, I could understand the relief people found in it.

  “Come on, Bryn . . . he’ll go after my car. He’ll kill him and that’s as close to my death as—”

  “Patrick—now,” I interrupted, hardly able to wait until I got my chance to speak with the genuinely frightened man in front of me’s older brother. The tiny, black bikini, the robe that appeared out of nowhere . . . he was in trouble.

  “Yeah, that monster boat is his,” he answered, hanging his head in shame as if he’d just given away his best friend . . . which I suppose he probably thought he had.

  I don’t know what caused me to soften, but it happened without having to make an effort. The flame of my anger was no match for the extinguishing might of my love for him. I wasn’t going to let some miscommunication of boat ownership get me in a tizzy when much more important matters lay ahead of us over the next twenty-four hours.

  “What are you going to do to him?” Patrick asked me through squinted eyes.

  I exhaled, feeling like a hopeless pushover. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? After that big explosion . . . you’re going to let him off that easy?”

  I smiled, as a few forms of mild torture coming to mind I’m sure I could impart upon him. “I suppose I could think of something.”

  “Good, do. Don’t go soft on him.”

  “Are you going to tell me about you guy’s plan for my escape from this place anytime soon . . . or are you planning on selling your brother out again?” I eyed him from the side.

  His dimples set. “Given your preference for early morning runs,” he said, nudging my shoulder with his, “that will be our cover. If anyone sees you tomorrow morning, you should look like you’re going on a run. That means you can’t bring anything with you— no luggage, bags, or anything else that would arouse suspicion you were going for more than just a jog. Do you understand?” His voice was serious, and I saw in Patrick during thes
e more grave moments a lot more of William than I realized was there.

  “I understand.” 

  “After tonight, you won’t see William or me again before you leave. You will have to say your goodbyes tonight . . . without really saying your goodbyes.” He glanced at me to see if I’d understood him, and I had. I’d have to say goodbye without the farewell embrace or the words I wanted to speak.

  “I’ll be prepared,” I answered solemnly.

  “Joseph will take you back to Pacific City tomorrow and you will stay there with the rest of the family until William meets up with you in a month.” The reminder of being separated from him that long made me grimace. “After that, William will take you to back to Montana. He will petition our Council to have you accepted into our Alliance and then he’ll—” He stopped himself suddenly, and a sheepish look covered his face.

  “And then what?”

  “Nothing . . . and then nothing,” he answered quickly, but looked ready for the oncoming assault.

  “I don’t think so, Patrick. Wasn’t it you who just told me you’d always tell me the truth, no matter what?” Irritated as I was with him right now, I also was delighted he’d just re-quoted his promise to me moments ago.

  He threw his head back, recognizing the conundrum he was in.  “This isn’t mine to tell. You’d want to hear it from him anyways,” he answered simply. I’d expected a verbal volley in return, but from his tone, I knew the topic was closed, and I would not be able to negotiate or force any further information from him.

  “Fine,” I relented, ceasing my side-ways glare at him.

  As we approached the front gates of the Manor, we were barraged with the sights and sounds of bustling figures flitting around the outside; arranging lanterns, flowers and other décor for tonight’s festivities.

  “He’s quite lucky, you know? Having found you after several lifetimes of searching and waiting. It makes me jealous knowing the love he has for you, and the love I can see you have for him,” his whisper waivered in places. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find someone as special to me as you are to him.” He managed a weak smile, and leaned in to kiss the side of my cheek. “Goodbye, Bryn.”

  He spun around and loped off towards the large outbuilding to the east, leaving me standing there with more needless confusion. This thing with Patrick saying something frustratingly evasive, and running off before I could ask for further clarification, was starting to become a pattern. I was pretty sure this had been his good-bye, and realizing I didn’t know when I would see or speak to this Hayward brother again, caused a lump to form in my throat. I watched him disappear into the endless rows of the vineyard before I walked through the front gate.

  None of the bustling bodies acknowledged me as I walked up the drive and through the tall double doors that were surrounded by crystal pillars and lanterns filled with unlit candles. There were floral garlands scalloped over anything that would stand still, and such an excess of ice from the intricate sculptures adorning the lobby, I seriously wondered if the citizens of Wisconsin saw this much ice in winter.

  I sighed. Always ice . . . endless ice in this chilling place that could easily freeze one’s heart if it wasn’t already enflamed with an eternal fire.