Evaline | L. Lioncourt ✔

[17] Past Memories

"And she slit my throat after making me drink from the dead," he mumbled, eyes flashing as he recalled how each drop of blood had spilled out from the cut on his throat until he was reduced to a famished skeleton, "the little fiend."

"How could she...?" Eva's voice was refused to a horrified whisper, her eyes focused on him as she took in the slight clenching of his jaw as an inexplicable wave of fury coursed through him.

"Exactly what I had thought back then but it turned out I had always underestimated Claudia. She was such a lot like my own self that I knew not whether I should have taken pride in it or be ashamed," he repeated the words she spoken to him before disposing him off with Louis's help, "good night sweet prince. May flights of devils guard you to your rest. Her voice echoes in these ears still, her smile dances in front of these eyes and it pains even though years have passed."

"But you cared for her..."

He looked down at her with an unfathomable expression in his grey irises, "perhaps. Perhaps not. I had used her for my own gain, maybe I deserved her vengeance. You see Evaline, I have spent a century being absolutely monstrous. Guiltless. And while it is debatable whether my isolation has changed me or not, I am quite certain that becoming a monster again would be much closer to my nature than taking the other route."

Disapproval crossed her features as she spoke, "do not say that. It is never too late to turn towards the light."

A sharp laugh escaped him almost alarming her as she lifted her head from his shoulder, looking up at him, "but do you not remember, the light burns me, chérie. I have lived in darkness and in darkness I shall remain."

"Then stay in the dark. But pray do not let it consume you."

"I wish it was just as easy as these words that roll off your tongue, my dear," he mumbled, running his fingers gently through her hair that he had freed from the hairpin such that the brown tresses reached down to her waist, "but I have always been honest with you and what I said earlier was no lie."

She sighed wearily, "I do not like where this conversation is going."

"Then we could stop. Ask and it will be so."

"No... I meant... I want to hear about what happened next, not about you ridiculing yourself and wallowing in self hate."

The laugh that escaped him that once was louder and she sat up, drawing back as she watched him dissolve in his rumbling laugh as if she had told him a hilarious joke.

Her eyes had widened in disbelief, "Monsieur, you ridicule me instead?"

"No... No, chérie, I would not dare. I merely laugh at the word self hate. How could someone associate such a word to a narcissist as I?"

"There you go again," she shook her head as if disappointed, "narcissist... What other words do you intend to serenade yourself with?"

"Quite a lot of words I may admit," his laugh had not entirely died out, grey eyes flickering in a mixture of amusement and derision, counting off the insults he had lined up for his own self on his fingers, "an egotistical French snob, a self centered maniac, a heartless monster, a gorgeous fiend, Gentleman Death in frills and brocades... Though I do like the last two a lot. Shall I go on?"

"No," her features were evident of pain, "that is enough."

He took in the saddened look in her eyes and even though he had not made an attempt to read her mind just then, he knew exactly what her thoughts would be. "Eva, had I not asked you to never be hurt on my account? I deserve all these accolades I serenade myself with. And in truth, I may be probably even worse than what these words convey. But pray do not trouble yourself."

His voice had a clear hint of satire which did not pass unnoticed from her.

"Do not make it seem as if I do so deliberately," she mumbled as his finger gently curled away from her face, knuckles brushing down her cheek in that much familiar delicate gesture that he kept reserved for her only, "you mock yourself as if you really do not like yourself one bit."

He nodded in agreement, "because I do not."

"Yet you said you were a narcissist. Is that not hypocrisy, Monsieur?"

"No," he shook his head, a ghost of a smile playing upon his lips, "because I love myself. I am devoted to myself till my dying day. But I do not like myself. These two are clearly different things."

She shrugged, "I do not understand."

"Then do not think too deep into it," he suggested before directing the topic back to the tale he was narrating, "after I had almost bled out to the point of death as it is for us vampires, Louis and Claudia dumped me in a swamp and I could not be more grateful for that act."

She was a bit taken aback at the sudden change of topic but his words quickly distracted her from it as she asked, "how so?"

"I fed on the alligator that resided in there gaining enough strength to crawl out. And then on a disgusting diet comprising of all the putrid life that scurries in the beds of the Mississippi, I had gained enough strength to go back for my vengeance."

He rested his head back, eyes fluttering shut as he recalled the night he had turned up to avenge his painful murder attempt but had been set on fire by Louis instead.

"But fate was not in my favor that once," he resumed eyes still closed, "for before I could lay a hand on Claudia, Louis... My dear companion Louis set me on fire."

He felt a slight touch at his cheek and tilted his head aside to see Eva looking at him with a most concerned look in her eyes, her hand lingering at the side of his face, "so when you had told me that your house had caught up on fire... It was this incident?"

He nodded, marveling at the fact that she still remembered what he had told her in their earliest meetings, "indeed. They left on board the ship they were destined to while I burnt to a crisp until I found that mansion where I spent the next fifteen years."

"The mansion where I found you in accidentally."

"The very same. And in the tale forth from that point, you play as much a part as I do. You became my sole benefactor, you cared for me when all others had forsaken me. And chérie I can never repay that kindness."

He looked down at her with a genuine smile on his features but was a bit surprised when she took his hand in her own, "I will never forsake you, my answer remains the same."

Those words reminded him of the time he had brought her to his house the first time, the night when they had had their first and probably last kiss.

"But my reply has not changed either. You will have to leave me one day if you value your own betterment," he sighed wistfully and his voice was a choked whisper as if it hurt him to say that aloud, "you must not stay. For I fear that I will cause your destruction."

That once she looked up in his eyes with a resolute fire he had never glimpsed in her clear irises before, "yet what is left to be destructed? Have you ever thought of that?"

His mouth parted as if to speak for her words had cut him to the core, churning up whatever soul was still left in him.

But before he could say anything, she stood up to leave, her eyes landing on the window that announced the short arrival of dawn, "farewell, Monsieur. I hope to see you some day soon."

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