Asher’s POV
I held
Julianna tightly in my arms, careful not to crush her, but as
tightly
as one of such great strength as I could hold a mortal. I could
feel
the tears streaming down my cheeks. Tears of joy, tears for how long
we
had been separated, and tears for what all we had had to go through,
to
be united again. She whispered softly and repeatedly into my ear,
“Shhh,
mon amour, I am here, I am here.”
She pushed back slightly. “Come out to the balcony with me, it’s stuffy
in
here.”
I nodded, and allowed her to lead me out to the large balcony protruding
off
of the living room. She leaned on the railing, looking out over the
steep
ravine that fell behind the house. I put my arm around her, pulling
her
closer to me, lacing our fingers together in an affectionate web. She
leaned
into me, letting out a deep sigh. “Asher, for all of my recent
life,
that I can remember, I felt like something was missing, besides my
memory.
But now that missing puzzle piece has his arm around me, holding
my
hand.” The breeze shifted, wafting her sweet scent in my direction.
Heaven
never knew such sublime bliss as the sweet smell of her skin and
her
hair. Just her mere presence enthralled me.
I turned Julianna to face me. Leaning down, I kissed her, suddenly and
completely
wrapped up in the taste of her lips that I knew so well, and
had
been without for so long. Her lips were so soft, their silk had not
been
marred over these long years. Except by the flames. That sudden
question
truly struck home; how had she survived nearly burning to death,
and
healed back to her timeless perfection?
She
broke away gently. Reaching up towards my hair, she asked, “Why do
you
now hide behind your hair?”
I caught her hand before it could push aside the wave of my hair that
hid
the scars. I was taken aback. Did she truly not know of my scars? A
sudden
dread to reveal the truth over took me. “Do you not remember?” I
asked,
my tone careful.
She shook her head. “I remember the witch hunters taking us, and that is
where
my memories stop.”
I slowly led her hand towards my hair, my heart thumping in my chest at
the
thought of her knowing of my terrible imperfection. Using her
fingertips,
I brushed my hair aside to reveal the scars. Tears filled her
eyes.
And as she touched the textured flesh, the runnels the holy water had
caused
in my skin, she shrieked, and would have fallen to the ground
again
if I had not caught her. Her memories slammed into me, we shared a
flashback
once again. I knew she was feeling my pain, the pain of each
and
every drop of holy water that might as well have been acid hitting my
skin.
And then as she felt my pain, I felt her violation, the guards
raping
her, and prodding her with sticks, beating her with fists and
feet,
sticking pins in her few moles to see if they bled. And then the
cart
they took her out on, clad only in a dirty scratchy cotton shift.
They
tied her to the burning post, and she was so hurt she barely knew
what
was going on around her. Her eyes were so swollen from the beatings
she
could barely see the outside world. But she could feel it. She felt
the
flames travel up to her feet, then torso, then higher. She screamed
with
a broken cracking voice from the pain. “Jean-Claude,” she whispered,
before
blacking out mercifully. All of this I knew of before, but then
new
memories hit me, that I had been blocked from before. There was a
flash
of green eyes, and a cruel snicker. Julianna was on another cart,
being
led away from her pyre. Burns covered the length of her body. She
writhed
in pain with every lurch of the cart. That memory blacked out,
leading
to another one. She was now in a secluded cottage, in the woods.
An
old lady cared for her, putting a salve over her burns. I drew from
somewhere
that she was a witch, a real witch who cared more for bringing
good
to others, than casting wicked spells. Two months passed. She was
completely
healed, her skin back to its milky perfection.
Then one particular memory became clearer, much more vivid than the
others.
She reached out to me through the marks, and was frustrated to
find
them blocked. Julianna was packing a small sac of provisions for a
journey.
She was preparing to set off to find me. The old witch was not
in
the cottage, it was not her home. Julianna did not know exactly whose
cottage
she had been staying in for the past two months, but she knew it
was
time to go. Just on her way out of the cottage, someone else entered.
A
tall man, of considerable build, with the green eyes I had seen in the
earlier
memory, and dark brown hair, a few shades darker than Julianna’s.
The
vivacity of the memory allowed me to recognize Arturo.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, the ever present sly smile on his lips.
“Yes,” she answered, backing away.
“Where could you possibly want to go?”
“To find Asher,” she answered, venom in her voice and hatred in her
eyes.
“Asher? Asher is dead, love. The holy water killed him. And the flames
would
have killed you, had I not saved you.”
Continuing to back up, Julianna answered, “For all I know, you are the
one
who set us up, Arturo.”
Arturo laughed, that cruel snicker. “Well, yes, there is that too.”
Sudden fear showed in Julianna’s eyes. “How could you?” she demanded,
backing
up further still.
Arturo grinned. “It was really an ingenious plot, one of my best. The
church
can be bribed so easily, you know. And it was not hard to follow
your
trio’s movements, you left quite a trail. Trail enough that I could
give
your location to the witch hunters.”
Tears were filling Julianna’s eyes, but she held them back. “And what of
Jean-Claude’s
mother? Did you poison her? Did you make her sick, so
Jean-Claude
would leave?”
“No, I had no part in that. That was just a stroke of luck. But this is
true,
I had been waiting for an opportunity to get Jean-Claude out of the
picture.
Because out of your little trio, he was the one who had the
potential
to foil my plans. He always did, and was always too clever for
his
own good.”
“Why?! Why did you do all this?” Julia Anne demanded, the tears now
streaming
down her cheeks.
“Let us just say you shouldn’t have run that night, from the council
chambers,
the night Belle had given you to me. I did it because you
should
have been, and should be mine. I did it because for the past 20
years,
you are all I have been able to think about.”
Julianna then slapped him. She put all of her strength into it, and even
though
it was just a slap, it rocked Arturo’s head back. A trickle of
blood
ran down the corner of his mouth. He smiled. “Ah, so you remember I
like
it rough.” His eyes flashed with laughter. Julianna darted for the
door,
and Arturo grabbed her arm, pulling her back. She kicked him in the
shin,
and he cuffed her, sending her reeling to the floor. She saw stars
before
her vision. He advanced on her, and she tripped him, hooking her
leg
behind his knee and locking her leg out, sending the vampire to the
floor.
I remembered the night Jean-Claude had taught her how to do that.
Julianna
then got to her feet, and rushed for the door of the small
cottage.
Three men then came through the door, one of them caught
Julianna.
I recognized Guilliame, Marceau, and Benett. Benett turned to
Arturo.
“Jean-Claude returned, a few days after she was burned. He
rescued
Asher, and killed most everyone but us.”
“Why did you just now decide to tell me this?”
“We had to travel here carefully. Supposedly Jean-Claude is in THE BOX
now,
but such rumors could be wrong.”
Arturo picked himself up from the floor. “Asher IS alive,” said
Julianna,
straining against Guilliame’s hold.
Arturo smiled. “Yes, he is. But it doesn’t matter to you. He thinks
you’re
dead.”
“He will find me through the marks. He will find me, and he and
Jean-Claude
will kill you, something that should have been done a long
time
ago.”
“He will not find you. I have blocked off your marks with a powerful
spell.
You can feel it yourself. And why would Asher look for you, when
he
thinks you died on the pyre?”
Julianna flung out her legs, trying to kick Arturo. “I hate you! I hate
you
with every fiber in my being!” she screamed at him. Arturo laughed in
her
face, and then turned to Benett.
“Where did Jean-Claude take Asher?”
“To Belle Morte. Rumor has it she saved his life, and in return
Jean-Claude
gave up a year of his freedom, in the box. But who knows if
this
is true? We should all be wary, Jean-Claude may know you are behind
this.”
“How could he? No, we are safe.” Arturo looked over to Julianna.
“And I
have
what I want out of the deal.” Julianna glared daggers at the
malevolent
vampire. “Do you have the carriage?” he asked.
“Yes, we obtained one in town.”
“Then put her in it. We should change locations. Are you three the ONLY
ones
left, out of all of my men?”
“There are seven more outside. But that is all that is left.”
“Jean-Claude killed ten of you, AND managed to save Asher?”
Benett
nodded, and Arturo frowned. “You are a sad sad lot. Take her
outside.”
Julianna began to struggle even more fervently, proving it difficult for
Guilliame
to drag her outside. “I AM NOT GOING!” she protested.
Arturo cuffed her again, more spots flashing before her vision. “You
have
no choice in the matter,” said he.
Julianna’s vision was blurred. Perhaps a concussion. Guilliame dragged
her
outside with little resistance. Then suddenly there was shouting,
commotion,
the sounds of fighting and killing. Guilliame abandoned her,
dropping
her to the ground. Julianna hit her head on a rock, blood
trickled
down the side of her face and her vision now became patches of
blurred
picture and black. She thought she saw Arturo take to the air,
fleeing,
along with Marceau, Guilliame, and Benett who fled into the
woods
mounted on horseback. She saw the blurred images of others dead on
the
ground, and then more people surrounding her, armed with crossbows.
One
person knelt down beside her, taking her pulse. Their hair was such a
golden
color of blond Julianna thought it was I come to rescue her for a
moment.
Julianna looked up into intense dark blue-green eyes, they had a
ring
of yellow around the pupils. “She’s alive,” said the person above
her.
It was a strong voice, lower than most female’s, but still a female
voice.
“What are we going to do with her? We have saved her for now, but where
can
we put her where she will be safe from that wicked vampire?” asked a
man
from the ring of people around Julianna.
“I know a place,” said the strong feminine voice.
And then the cluster of memories ended. Julianna cried softly in my
arms.
I stroked her hair absently, but was absorbed in my own thoughts.
Arturo
had been behind our demise. The bastard, I should have known. And
he
was after Julianna once again, Marceau and Benett’s presence proved
this.
But what circumstances had kept Julianna safe, for so many years,
beyond
Arturo’s clutches? Who was that mystery woman who had saved her
from
the cottage? And where had she taken Julianna? There were so many
questions,
and not enough answers.
I also felt shamed. Julianna had been alive, for all these long years.
And
I had been too busy wallowing in my self pity, to even attempt to
find
her. I thought I had felt her die, but instead she had just blacked
out
in the flames, and the marks had somehow been blocked. But now that I
had
her back, I would never ever let her go again. I would do everything,
EVERYTHING
in my power to keep her safe.
Julianna pushed back to look up at me. “I need to go to Notre Dame. I
think
the last piece of the puzzle lies somewhere in there. I think I
will
get back the rest of my memory, if I step inside her walls.
Everything
I have felt some sort of bond with, or fear of, has proved to
have
some part in my past. I think Notre Dame will be the last piece. ”
I
nodded. “We can go to Paris, but I am afraid I cannot escort you within
the
church walls.”
“I know.”