Idleness isn’t going to be my thing. I want to know more about what is going on. Is Jack the reincarnation of Julien, or is it some crazy coincidence? Were we meant to find each other again, or does this mean absolutely nothing? I’m going to do some more research in an effort to find out.
Resisting the temptation to click on what I’m sure are scientifically based quizzes, I delve deeper. Very quickly, I am rewarded with some articles of actual substance. The digital world still amazes me. The ease of accessing a universe of information is an incredible human achievement.
Alexandre may feel derisive toward mortals, but I am continually amazed by the innovations I’ve witnessed. Creativity abounds in mortal creatures. Perhaps it’s the fact that a mortal feels their mortality, wishing to leave a lasting impression on the earth. It’s a beautiful thing. For the most part, the immortals I have known are lackadaisical and decadent. With all the time in the world, what’s the rush?
Well, for the first time in two hundred plus years, I’m compelled to rush. Time presses down on me. I can’t deny that Jack is vulnerable. I’m terrified something could happen to him, even if he has decided he doesn’t want me.
My deeper search uncovers an article which catches my eye. It has to do with something called karmic groups. Karmic groups are reincarnated souls who tend to be attracted to the same souls, over and over again. I love the idea of souls who have loved each other, coming together, time and again. But, what happens if you are stuck with a soul you can’t stand, someone mean or evil? Does this mean you are destined to run into this soul, endlessly?
It doesn’t sound very appealing. If I lose this version of Julien, will he find me again in another two hundred years? One thing is clear—although you may be pre-destined to be reunited with the love of your life, free will reigns. Choices can still be made which make it impossible to be together.
Is it important to know if Jack is the reincarnation of Julien? I don’t think it will matter if he chooses to walk away from what we have. People walk away from real love all the time.
A person who wants to find out about their past lives can have a past life regression. I found some information on something called the Akashic Record. From what I understand, the Akashic Records are a collection of everything that has ever occurred in all of human history, including; feelings, thoughts, actions, and so much more. An individual can access these records through a soul reading, performed by someone who has been specially trained in this technique. Or with practice, an individual can learn to access the records by themselves. Of course, there is no scientific evidence to back any of these ideas up, but vampirism is not exactly a proven scientific fact, either. Yet, here I sit.
Coming across an article on innate talent, I click and scroll down. The article states a creative soul is often creative in all incarnations of life. This is interesting to me. Julien was a talented, accomplished painter, while Jack is an actor and writer. All creative fields.
I shut down my tablet and return it to the dark recesses of my nightstand. Just to torture myself, I check my phone again. Still no messages or texts. I could be really lame and call someone, just to make sure the phone is in good working order. The only thing that will do is make me feel worse. I’m not a lovesick teenager. I’m a grown ass, immortal woman.
This house feels like a prison I need to break free of. I’m not feeling merciful, tonight. Taking a few unknowing drops from some unsuspecting fool isn’t going to slake my furious hunger. What I held back from telling Jack was, every now and then, we do take a life. I was telling the truth when I said we spare the innocent from death. Accidents will happen, especially when one is newly changed. But, by and large, we are respectful of life.
Once in a while, an occasion calls for draining an entire body. When nothing but gorging will do, we are careful to select a mortal whose soul is unclean. In short, murderers and rapists. Unfortunately, the world teems with such individuals.
Sitting in my room, I close my eyes, opening myself up. Almost immediately, I feel the evil calling to me. If this is not a wakeup call to mankind, I don’t know what is. It shouldn’t be so easy. I don’t even bother to slip on shoes. My ruthless animal won’t even know what hit him, let alone have time to take in my appearance. I walk up to the attic, then step out onto the roof. I swiftly make my way over the rooftops, until I am right above him.
He is slinking in an alleyway, stalking his next victim like prey. I see the pretty redhead he watches through the kitchen window. She is busily preparing herself something to eat. I close my mind to him. Seeing what he has done and what he has planned for this young woman will ruin my appetite.
With his back to me, I work quickly. One hand goes over his mouth as the other slips around his stomach. In one swift motion, I pull him against me, sinking my lengthened canines into the soft, sweaty flesh at his throat. Not yummy, but when I taste the hot, thick blood, I don’t notice his grime. He doesn’t fight, most don’t. I’m not sure what it is about a vampire’s fangs, but they seem to incapacitate quickly.
I drain this foul creature dry in record time and take him back to the rooftops with me. You can’t just leave a body in an alley. That is sloppy. After all, it’s only polite to clean up after yourself. The cleanup is another, more practical reason why we prefer to take small drinks from the innocent. Innocents taste better. Being pure, their blood is sweeter. A human with an unclean soul has more of a bitter taste, but like I said, sometimes you just need all the blood.
It is not easy to dispose of a body, I don’t care what you think you’ve learned from crime shows. Doing so, has only become more difficult with time. My go to method, taught by Alexandre, is to find a freshly dug pit at the cemetery. You find yourself a plot that has been dug out to accept its new occupant the next day. Dig down a few more feet, drop in your body, cover it, and there you go. Once the dearly departed has been lowered, buried over your evil corpse, he will be hidden forever. Evil corpses are almost always male. Go figure.
I’m lucky tonight as there are two plots ready. Using my hands, preternatural strength, and speed, I take care of my chore. Crawling out of the pit, I can only imagine what I look like. If Jack thinks becoming an immortal isn’t for him, he should see me now. He won’t need any more convincing. Without delay, I begin my dance back home over the rooftops.
I need the type of scrub down they give you after a nuclear reactor leak. Hopping onto the roof of the house next door to mine, I feel him. Jack is there. For the love of all that’s holy, his timing couldn’t be worse. I literally look like I just crawled out of a grave, and probably smell like it, too.
Peering down I see him talking with Annie, on the porch. She knows I’m up here. I have no doubt she placed herself in the exact spot she is in, so his back would be turned on me. Not wasting this opportune moment, I noiselessly slip into the house using the same attic window I left from. I tear into my room, stripping the clothes from my body. Jumping into the shower, I wash in record time. Annie comes in as I’m stepping out onto the bathmat.
“Well, you know he’s here. I tried to kill as much time as I could. He wants to come up, so just throw on your robe, and I’ll burn these.” She picks up my clothes, keeping them at arm’s length.
I don’t even have time to give her my thanks. She’s out the door and moments later, I can hear Jack in the bedroom. I guess this must be it, he has come to tell me his decision. He’s made me wait, so he can wait a few more minutes for me. I apply some French lavender body lotion, comb out my hair, and select my favorite black silk robe. No need to make this too easy for him.
When I’ve done all I feel like doing, I know it’s time to face the music. He hasn’t tried to talk to me through the door, so it must be bad news. I am suddenly very angry with him, or maybe with myself. He must not feel for me what Julien did, or it wouldn’t be so easy for him to walk away. Let’s just get this over with.