Tribes Of The Vampire - Eternally Bound Part 47

"No. I have not seen her," Tatiana sighed.

Alice's spirit was still earthbound. Tatiana could feel it. But the presence had left them as they entered English soil. She wondered if Alice did not like coming home, as she herself did not like coming home.

Tatiana thought she would be happy to be back in England. But this was no longer the England of her youth. She saw it for what it was--for its flaws. No longer did she feel pride when thinking of her birthplace. It was like remembering a room from childhood, a room that was so big and so awed innocent eyes. To visit that same place years later, with the critical contemplations of an adult, the room could never compare to the image remaining from your childhood thoughts. After that moment, a bitter feeling would erupt from the disillusionment of childish dreams, the disappointment of adult memory. That is how Tatiana saw England.

"This place is not all flawed,bella mia ," Marcello said quietly. "You must learn to look for the beauty amongst the thorns."

"It is in the winterand there is no beauty within the dormant grove of this city," she whispered. She stopped in front of a house. The small structure wasn't special. It had an area set aside for a garden. White blanketed the ground, trampled by the running of little feet. Children had run circles and patterns in the snow earlier in the day. Now, their footprints glistened in a field that sparkled like blue diamonds in the moonlight.

Tatiana followed the trails with her eyes and felt sadness. She could almost hear the children's laughter in her head. This was something she would never have. Marcello stood, watching her in silence. Her gloved hand reached forward and brushed snow from a fence post.

"This is not the England of my girlhood. It pains me to see it, for I will never belong here," Tatiana said. "Never again."

Marcello didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"Let us finish our business." Tatiana sighed. "I care not where we go from here, only that we do go."

"We must find you a witch." Marcello lifted his hand to her shoulder and squeezed. "You must train."

"Ah, yes. Tell me, why should I train to save all of this? Why save a world filled with so much?" Tatiana asked. "Why save a world I will never belong in again?"

"You don't need me to answer that."

Tatiana patted the hand on her shoulder. Turning to him, she gave a slight smile. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she lifted to place a small kiss against his cool lips. The snowflakes landed on her eyelashes and she blinked rapidly to see. "Pay me no mind, Marcello. I am in a mood this night."

He nodded, hugged her to his chest, and let her go. With a sigh, he offered his arm to her. She took it and they again walked, speeding faster as they moved.

"I understand," Marcello said. "We shared the same dream. You will go for him tonight."

"Yes," she whispered. "Tonight."

Three and a half years he waited for this night--the night he would avenge his sister's death. Thomas hugged his long, wool coat tight around his body, ignoring the holes in his elbows that couldn't protect him from the cold. His hunched shoulders lifted and fell as he sighed with weariness. He was tired, so tired. The shadowing of a beard marred his once boyish face. He knew he looked old for his age. h.e.l.l, he felt old for his age. His red brimmed eyes stared forward. Though his body reeked of liquor, his feet walked steady and sure.

Three and a half years. Three and a half years.

The words repeated themselves over and over again in his head. It was too long of a time to wait for vengeance. It was too long a time to image what Henry Sinclair had done to sweet, innocent Alice. At night he could still hear her laughter in his head. She'd been such a sweet girl, so happy no matter what life had dealt her. Such a good soul didn't deserve a harsh death.

He'd lost every woman he'd ever loved--Alice to a murder, his mother to grief after he'd told her the truth of Alice's death, and Tatiana to a monster. After he avenged his sister and his mother, he'd go for Tatiana. He would learn the truth of her involvement. He was torn with what he would do when he saw her. Alice had been her friend and yet she'd helped to hide the body? Every one of the dark creature's words filtered in his head.

'You can't keep her from me,'the creature had said to Tatiana's father.'I only let you have her back because I promised to let her say goodbye to you in return for her pledge to be my eternal slave. She traded her soul for the protection of your son. It was your boy who murdered the servant and, like a coward....'

"And like a coward, he'll die," Thomas whispered, letting the rage kindle anew as his pace quickened. He knew the way well, had watched Henry Sinclair for months, waiting for the time he'd be alone.

'No,'Tatiana had answered the demon. He could still hear the sweet confusion in her voice. She was to have been his wife that night. He'd been so happy. She was all he'd ever dreamt about. But then, the demon had come for her. 'I never would've given myself to you. You lie. Henry would never murder Alice. You lie! You lie!'

"She didn't know," Thomas said. "It is not possible for her to have known. She loved Alice--loved her dearly. She wouldn't have allowed...." Thomas frowned, shaking his head in doubt. "No, no, she couldn't have known, could she? But why bind herself to the demon? Why agree to go with him? She was tricked. She must have been tricked. She would never have helped Henry hide Alice, never, never, never...."

Thomas rounded a corner and continued to trudge up a small hill. His feet slipped, causing him to fall forward on the hard pavement of the sidewalk. His ankle twisted and he landed on a knee with a jolt of pain. He muttered in anger, pushing back up. He kept going, trying to keep the same pace though he now unconsciously limped. The uneven clop of his boots was the only sound in the stillness of the city night.

"No, Tatiana loved her," Thomas whispered, glad that no one was around to witness him talking to himself. Nevertheless, the sound of his whispered words eased him in his task and he felt a small sense of comfort in his reasoning. "I will find her. She is not dead. I will find her. I will find her and make her my wife."

Even as he said the words, Thomas doubted the eventuality of his plans. Who knew what h.e.l.l Tatiana had lived in since the night the devil came to Eastwich? She could be broken of spirit and of mind. He himself was broken and lost.

"No," Thomas said in a hiss. He stopped and looked at a small house set back in a lawn. "We will live here in this very house. I must remember this house, this street. She will have my children and they will grow to be great men. We will be happy. We must be. We have to be."

"There," Tatiana said, pointing up to a high window on the second story of the brownstone house. "My nephew is there."

"Tatiana?" asked Marcello, hearing the sound of her longing. She'd been in a strange mood all night and it bothered him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

He knew she lied. "Is it what you want? Children?"

"No, yes. I don't know. I can't help but think of all I missed, all I will miss. I resent that I'm being made to pay for Henry's crime, though it isn't completely Henry's fault. I wouldn't have had a choice either way. And, yet, I am jealous of him. Look at this," Tatiana stopped to wave her hand at the house before gesturing up to a window. "I will never have this. I will never know the joy of a family, of watching a sunrise or sunset with a husband who loves me."

Marcello felt a pain wash over him. He wasn't good enough for her. She didn't love him, but was with him out of necessity, out of a shared loneliness. She'd said as much to him before. It was why she wanted to stay with Leandro, too. She wanted a family, a semblance of normalcy in her life. How could it be any other reason? Since her changing, there was only honesty between them--well, honesty in most things. He hid his feelings for her, so as not to burden her with what she didn't want.

She didn't love him. Her desire for him was strong, tireless, but she did not love.

He wished more than anything he could give her this life, give her a home, a child. She had a good heart, deserved so much more than living beneath the ground like a corpse, her soul rotting as her body never would. Would she grow bored of him?

Would she soon find another to replace him, someone new to quicken her powers? How long would it take? A year, a decade, a century, a day?

"Ah, but why complain to you about this? You and I are the same in this way," she whispered.

Si, bella mia, he thought. His heart slowed until it was a lifeless thud that only brought him pain.We are very much the same.

Though, I am not with you just to ease the loneliness of a long life, for I could make peace with our existence, if only you would accept my heart.

"What?" Tatiana turned to look at him. Her pale face studied him, her jade eyes blinking curiously. "I didn't understand."

"I said nothing," Marcello murmured, taking more care with his thoughts while he was around her. "But, I think that perhaps I will go with you up to the window."

"What ... who...?" came the trembling voice of Henry's wife.

Tatiana looked at the woman. She could smell the woman's fear. She was a frail, thin creature. Her light brown hair fell over her long white nightgown. The woman shivered, standing with her baby in her arms. She hugged the infant tighter, blinking as she watched the two vampires before the open nursery window.

"It ... it can't be," the woman whispered. Her eyes teared and she hugged her child tighter, causing the sleeping infant to squirm in her arms. Nearing a panic, she tried to make it to the nursery door. "Please, they said you were dead. Please, don't take my baby, not my baby. Take me instead. Don't come for my baby."

"You know who I am?" Tatiana asked in surprise, looking over the light blue walls of her nephew's room. It had the sweet smell of baby in it, tinged with a hint of illness. The baby was sick. Her vision wasn't mistaken.

"Yes, yes," the mother said. "Yes, I know. You are Henry's sister. I saw your portrait. Mr. Sinclair, your father, said you were dead. Please, don't take my baby."

"Dead?" Tatiana asked in surprise. She glanced over her shoulder to Marcello. His eyes bore into her, giving her comfort.

Slowly, he nodded for her to continue.