"That would give Cate a reason to cover up the truth," I said. "I doubt Elise would've been happy if she knew that it was Cate's fault that she killed her own father."
"Not to mention she was a very virtuous girl, and even after turning, she was a practicing Catholic," Ezra explained. "If I recall correctly, she waited until their wedding night to lay with Peter. Toward the end of her life, I know that she really struggled with her vampire nature and immortality. Peter tried desperately to make her happy, and sometimes it seemed to work, but I think she spent a lot of time very depressed."
My heart broke for Peter, all over again, as I processed what Ezra had told me. I knew that Peter and Elise hadn't been together for very long, but I'd pictured their brief union as one extended honeymoon, a giant montage of love songs and slow dances, like a flashback from a Nicholas Spark movie.
But to hear that it had actually been a struggle, that their love - as pure and true as Peter believed it to be - hadn't been enough.
That was something I had learned with Jack. That love made life richer and fuller, yes, but it didn't give it purpose and it didn't heal all that was wrong with me. Jack's love didn't erase my guilt over Jane's death or any of my shortcomings. He made me want to be a better person, he supported me in my endeavors, but he didn't - and he couldn't - just magically make everything all better.
But it was still a bitter pill to swallow to realize that there wasn't such a thing as "happily ever after." There was only "happily until the next bad thing, that hopefully we're strong enough to overcome forever after."
"So as much as she loved Peter, you think she regretted becoming a vampire?" I asked Ezra.
"Yes. I do," he replied simply.
"But if Cate really didn't like Peter, the way she claims, and we assume that she is Elise's maker, does that meant that Elise and Peter weren't really bonded?" I asked.
Ezra shook his head. "I don't know. The relationship between maker and progeny is very complicated and often intense, and the nature of the blood bond is already fraught with confusion and extreme passion, as you very well know from your own experience. Then add the transference between of bonding from maker to soulmate to progeny to family, and it's just a whole mess of possibilities and things far beyond our understanding."
"So you're saying that Cate could be right, but she could be wrong?" I asked.
"Unfortunately, yes, that is what I'm saying," he said. "To put things in perspective, my maker Willem was a vile, evil man that tortured me and kept me enslaved for nearly a hundred years before I broke free. I can't even count the number of people he killed and tortured in front of me.
"But despite all that, it was difficult for me to end him," he continued grimly. "There was a bond inside me that pulled me to stay with him. And killing him was the hardest thing I've ever done. It was fighting against the very core of my being. But I knew I had to do it."
"I'm sorry you went through that," I said.
He waved me off. "No, no, I'm not seeking your sympathy. I'm merely telling you that everything about vampires and blood is very complicated."
"And now Elise is throwing a vampire ghost in the mix."
EZRA STARED BACK AT ME through my computer screen, his mouth turned down into an apologetic scowl. "Sorry I can't be of more help with that. You might be better off discussing these questions with a medium or a psychic."
I sat up straighter in the dining room chair and looked toward the bedroom door, where I could hear the dog snoring loudly as she slept beside Jack.
"Hey, has Jack talked to you?" I asked, quietly so as not to wake him.
"About what specifically?" Ezra asked.
I glanced at the doorway again. "About him being dead."
"He's dead?" he asked in confusion.
"No, not really," I said quickly. "He's fine and he's alive. We went to see a psychic, and she had this really strong reaction to him and claimed that his soul was dead."
Ezra leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Jack has not mentioned that to me. But are you sure the psychic wasn't messing with you for more money?"
"I don't think so, but I don't know for sure. Have you heard of anything like that, though?" I asked. "Vampires without souls?"
"Not anything credible," he said. "There are always stories and superstitions about demons and vampires. But I don't think any of those would help you."
"Where do you think vampires go when they die?" I asked honestly.
He thought for a second before asking, "Are you asking if I believe there is a heaven in general, or one specifically for vampires?
I shrugged. "Both? Either?"
"I've been alive for... 340 years now, I believe. In that time, I have seen many, many things. Some miraculous, some horrendous. Some I could explain, but others I've never been able to. But I have never seen irrefutable proof in anything beyond this life," he said.
"So you don't believe in heaven?" I clarified.
He shook his head. "I didn't say that either. Back when I still served under Willem, he had a business associate. An aristocratic vampire called Bogdan who treated me respectfully, as an equal. He'd been alive for over 500 years when I met him, though he couldn't be certain of his exact age, because it was much harder to keep track of time back then. He'd seen a great deal of things; empires rise and fall. He'd buried more family, lovers, and friends than I could even comprehend.
"After Willem would go to sleep, I would sit with Bogdan and watch the sunrise, and we would talk philosophy, astronomy, and religion until the sun rose so high we couldn't bare it," he went on. "The last time we went to visit him at his home, and toward the end, he told me that he had enough. He had seen everything the world had to offer, and he had nothing left to give back. He was immortal, but he was convinced that his time here was up, and he wanted to see what came next."
"What came next?" I echoed.
"Yes. After life," Ezra said. "He was certain there had to be something more, and he wanted to see it. He asked me to stake him through the heart. I balked at it, but he persisted, saying he couldn't do it himself, and he wanted to die with someone he trusted and cared about by his side."
"Did you do it?" I asked.
"I did," he said. "And as the light went out in his eyes, I saw a man succumbing to serenity for the first time in a very long time."
"You think he went to an afterlife?"
"I'd like to think he did. But even if he didn't, I don't regret what I did. After five-hundred years, he'd lived more lifetimes than one man should. He was done with this earth, and even if what came next was just a vast nothingness, I think he was ready for it."
"I STILL DON'T THINK WE need to do this," Jack insisted as we walked down the sidewalk together, hand in hand.
"I don't know what it will hurt just to talk," I said, reiterating the same argument I've been making for the past hour before I finally convinced him to leave the apartment. "If she doesn't know anything, then you're back where you started."
We'd rounded the corner, and now Jessamine's glowing pink sign was in sight. He stopped walking so he could turn his full attention to me, holding both my hands in his.
"No, you don't understand. I'm hoping she doesn't know anything," he explained.
I shook my head. "What do you mean?"
"I want to believe this is nonsense. And if she knows something, then it's real, and if it's real, it could be bad. The thought of being dead kinda freaks me out."
"Is that why you wouldn't talk to Ezra about it?" I asked.
"Yeah," he admitted sheepishly, which I wish he would've told me sooner because that would've spared us the twenty-minute fight after I got done Skyping with Ezra.
"But Jack, it's real either way," I argued reasonably. "I know it could be something scary, but I'd rather know about it and be able deal with it than have it sneak up and surprise us."
"I know. I just..." He shook his head. "I don't want to deal with anymore shit."
"Whatever it is, we can handle it
together. Look what we've gotten through so far." I gave him a reassuring smile, and that seemed to convince him enough, because he turned and started walking again.
Sage and incense were burning when we pushed open the door to the psychic shop, causing a small bell to chime overhead. But Jessamine was already out front, tidying up gemstones and tarot cards that were spread out on one of the two small tables.
When she saw us, she offered a megawatt smile - making her appear even more like a pinup model from a bygone era. Her long lavender hair was piled high on her head, and her flower-print dress hugged her voluptuous curves.
"You've returned," she announced, setting aside her cards and stones.
"Is that not okay?" Jack asked, sounding hopeful and taking a half-step back toward the door.
"No, of course it is." She waved us over. "I just wasn't sure you would. But I had hoped."
"You'd hoped? I felt like we kinda scared you off last time," he said as we walked over to the table.
She laughed brightly. "I was afraid I'd scared you off!" Then she offered an apologetic smile. "Again, I'm sorry about how I reacted last time. I'd just never encountered someone like you before, but I've been doing some research, and I think I may have some ideas."
"Like what?" Jack asked.
"Do you mind if I try a palm reading again?" Jessamine pointed to the table.
"As long as you're up for it, I'm game," he said, sounding far more calm and easygoing about the whole thing than I expected based on his protests about going here in the first place.
"I am," she assured him.
She sat down first, pulling her dress underneath her carefully. Jack and I sat across from her, and he rested his hands on the satin tablecloth. Under the table, I put my hand on his leg for reassurance.
"Before I go into anything, I should explain to you what it is exactly that I do," Jessamine said. "I come from a long line of soothsayers, and I can see the future. Some people say they can 'predict' the future, but I don't like that word. The future isn't static.
"It's a malleable thing, and the visions I get aren't clear, linear stories," she went on. "Some people think visions are like short movies playing in your head, but mine are snapshots of things - images, sounds, colors, smells. Just random sensory ideas that appear, and it's up to me and the person I'm reading to make sense out of it."
"This vision just happens when you touch people?" I asked.
She shook her head, making her hoop earrings sway. "Not every person I touch. I usually have some control over it, so I'm not getting readings when I bump into a stranger at the bank, or anything like that. When I focus, I can usually get an image, but for some people, it never clicks."
"So what happens when you touch me?" Jack asked.
She smiled, tightly this time. "Why don't we get started, and I'll explain?"
His blue eyes were nervous as he lay his hand out, palm up on the table. Jessamine started the way she had before, with her long manicured nails hovering above his hand for a moment before she touched him.
The instant they connected, she jumped. Her whole body jolted, but she didn't let go this time. She hung onto his hand with both of hers, and closed her eyes. Her eyelids trembled, making her long lashes quiver.
"Does it hurt?" Jack asked quietly.
"No, it's not painful," she said, breathlessly. "It's... surprising. It's like a rush of cold air when you open the door in the dead of winter, but if you weren't expecting it."
"What do you see?" he asked, his voice tight and nervous.
"Nothing."
His body slacked some. "So it's not working?"
"No, it's not like that. It's nothing. What I imagine nothingness looks like," she clarified, still hanging onto his hand. "And the air smells... burnt and metallic. Like dying stars."
"Will I be in outer space in the future?" Jack asked with unabashed excitement.
"No. At least, I don't know." She finally let go of him and relaxed back. She blinked a few times, then shook her head, as if clearing it.
"What does that mean then?" I asked, when she seemed to have gathered herself again.
"Inside us all, we have a spark of life," she explained. "People have many names for it - soul, spirit, essence - whatever you want to call it. All living things have it. It's the thing that separates inanimate matter from conscious being."
"So that's the difference between me and a rock and a corpse. Okay. Got it," Jack said glibly.
"Except you don't have that," Jessamine corrected him.
"But you just said all living things have a soul. I'm alive. Ergo, I have a soul," he reasoned.
"You're not like everything else. You're special," she said with a rueful smile.
"I've long suspected that were true," he attempted a joke, before giving into the anxiety that plagued him, and asking, "But I just don't understand what you're saying. I was born without a soul?"
"I don't think so. There have been a few cases on record of beings without souls, but they were all born with souls initially," she said.
I sat up straighter. "Record? What record?"
"My family and my colleagues keep records," she elaborated. "We have our own history books, separate from the norms."
"The norms?" I asked.
She blushed. "Normal humans."
"How do you know that they're accurate?" I asked.
"How do you know your boss's vampire records are accurate?" Jack countered. "You can't say for sure, but you have to trust the people that came before you to do their best to keep them truthful."
I leaned back in my chair. "Fair enough. Continue."
"The beings without souls all lost them later in life, through various traumas. But they were born intact," Jessamine said.
"Oh crap," he groaned.
"What?" I asked.
He looked over at me. "I was dead."
"Oh shit," I said, remembering the story of how he turned.
"What do you mean?" Jessamine asked, bewildered.
"Before I turned into a vampire, I died," Jack said. "Mae drank from me until I no longer had a heartbeat. When Peter found me, I was dead. He gave me his blood as a last-ditch effort, but he didn't think it would work. But it did. I turned."
Her confusion deepened her brow, and she said, "I'm no expert on vampires, but I thought you had to be alive to turn."
"Exactly," Jack said. "It's not supposed to work. Ezra told me stories about trying to revive a soldier that died in combat with him. He'd only been dead a minute, probably less, and Ezra gave him as much blood as he could. But it didn't take."
Jessamine thought, drumming her long nails on the table before finally saying, "That could explain it. They must've caught you in the precise moment your soul left but before your body truly died. There's maybe a split-second window, if even that, where your mortal coil hasn't perished yet. And they got it."
"So, what does that mean for me? What's going to happen?" he asked.
"It's up to you," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "You can live your life as you always have. What happens after you die, I have no idea. But I don't know what happens to any of us."
"Okay. Are there any other options?" Jack asked.
"You're an empty vessel, and you're a vampire," Jessamine said. "That makes you incredibly powerful and susceptible to dangerous forces."
He shook his head, not understanding. "Why?"
"Have you ever heard of possession?" she asked.
"You mean like with demons and exorcisms and all that?"
She smiled. "That's a very Catholic way of putting it, but yes." As she went on, her smile quickly faded. "Other souls - usually lost ones, whose bodies have decayed into the earth - look to survive inside another host, so they can get another chance at being alive. And as an immortal without a soul, you make the perfect host to any number of evil forces that others might want to raise from the grave."
"Great," Jack muttered. "So I'm not powerful on my own. I'm only really useful as a tool, if
someone loads me like a gun. Then I would become their powerful weapon."
"That is a way of putting it, yes," Jessamine said.
"That's kind of horrifying," he admitted, and I squeezed his leg gently under the table.
"It doesn't need to be," she said quellingly. "How long have you been a vampire?"
"Twenty years this part March."
"And you've been happy? You've enjoyed your life? You have friends and family, and you've found love?" she asked, glancing over at me on the last question.
"Yeah." He looked at me and smiled, but I could see the fear in his eyes. "I've been mostly happy. I've had a good run so far."
"Then I suggest you keep doing that. Just pretend like nothing is changed, because for you, nothing has really," she reasoned.
"Isn't that dangerous?" I asked.
Jessamine shook her head. "No. It's only dangerous if people know about him. Because Jack is right. He's not powerful on his own - only if the wrong people take advantage of him."
"I have a really cool secret that I'm awesome and special, and I can't tell anybody," he said with a dry laugh, which did little to mask his anxiety.
"You can tell me," I suggested. "And the dog."
"And so you know, I have told no one about you, and I won't," Jessamine promised us. "When I was researching, if I asked questions, I made sure to never use specifics about you or where I was. I have a code, the same code my mama and my grandma followed. My clients trust me with their innermost feelings and their very futures. I have a duty to protect them."
"We appreciate that," Jack said.
"And if you have any more questions or need any other help, please come back. I would be more than happy to help you, and honestly, I'm curious to learn about your condition myself."
There wasn't much more to be said, so Jack thanked her for her help and paid her the EU65,00, plus a tip. When we walked back to our building, he seemed completive - staring down at the ground with his brow furrowed and his hands in his pockets. So, I didn't say anything, letting him process it on his own, until we reached our building.
"Do you feel better?" I asked Jack as we rode up the elevator to our apartment.
"It depends on how you define 'better.'" He stared ahead, watching the numbers tick as we slowly rose up toward the fourth floor. "I'm less scared that I'm going to die or turn into a zombie any time soon. But now I'm worried that I might be like Dana Barrett with a Zuul inside me like me in Ghostbusters."