Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban - Immortal Love

Remember, it was you who condemned him. As her voice yelled in my mind, she bent over Bécquer and sank her long canines into his unprotected neck.

I screamed and fought the tight grip of Cesar’s arms around me. As if in answer to my plea, the loud, jarring playing of an electric guitar filled the room, drowning my cries and Cesar’s laughter.

Beatriz looked up toward the chair, toward the sound of Ryan’s phone coming from my handbag. Bécquer’s arm shot forward and struck her neck. As her blood splattered over the white sheets, he drew her to him.

Releasing me, Cesar bolted and pulled Beatriz from Bécquer.

Her hands clapping her neck where blood still poured out, Beatriz staggered against the chair where she collapsed.

Sitting up, Bécquer challenged Cesar with his stare. In his hands, he held a shard of glass stained in blood. A piece of the vase he must have hidden before the nurses came to stop his last attempt to end his life.

Cesar laughed. “A piece of glass? Do you really think you can stop me with that, you pathetic mortal?”

His arm lashed as he spoke. But Bécquer blocked his attack and when Cesar moved back, his hand was bleeding.

Cesar swore. “You bastard. You drank from her.”

Bécquer said nothing. On his face, as pale as marble, only his eyes seemed alive, intent on Cesar. One moment passed, then his arm shook, and I knew his strength was wavering.

I called to Cesar to distract him and rushed toward Bécquer. But before I could reach him, I felt the pressure of Cesar’s mind on mine, willing me to stop. Unable to move, I watched as Cesar grabbed Bécquer’s arm. I heard the cracking sound of the bone breaking, and then saw Bécquer’s hand open, releasing the shard.

Cesar snarled. “Tell me Bécquer, do you prefer to die now or should I kill your ladylove first?”

Cradling his broken arm, Bécquer said nothing.

“This is not how it was supposed to be.” Cesar pointed at Beatriz, who was slumped on the chair, unconscious or dead I was not sure. “She was supposed to kill you.”

“Let me guess,” Bécquer said, the effort to speak showing in the way his words came out, one by one and broken. “You will kill me now, but she will take the blame when you tell the Elders. In your version, Beatriz attacked me. You tried to stop her but were too late to save me, and in the fight that ensued, you killed Beatriz unwillingly. A dead Beatriz suits you fine because, dead, she cannot confess she stole my blood or that it was you who asked her to kill me.”

“Precisely.”

Cesar raised his arm once more, his flat hand a mortal weapon aimed at Bécquer’s chest, and I could do nothing but watch and wait for the fatal blow that would stop his heart. Only it never happened because someone else entered the room, too fast for me to see, and grabbed Cesar’s arm as it struck.

Cesar turned. His eyes widened when he saw the man holding him. “Alexander,” he said, his voice slightly off.

“You have disobeyed our orders,” the man said, “thus you will answer to us now.”

The metallic edge of his voice broke the wall that immobilized me. Barely aware of the two immortals dressed in black who had materialized in the room and were carrying Cesar away, I ran to Bécquer’s side calling his name. But Bécquer, pale and still, didn’t stir.

“Bécquer is not dead,” Alexander’s voice came from behind. “Just unconscious.”

I turned. Over his shoulder, I saw two different men, also in black, carrying Beatriz out of the room. Cesar was nowhere in sight.

“You must leave now, Carla,” Alexander said, not unkindly.

I didn’t move. “You saved Bécquer’s life, and I’m grateful. But I won’t leave him.”

“You must,” he insisted and his voice had the authority of an ancient king’s. “Bécquer’s sentence has been revoked for we are aware that Beatriz stole Bécquer’s blood. He’s safe with us.”

With the uncanny speed immortals moved, he rushed by me. Sitting by Bécquer’s side, grabbed his broken arm, and snapped the bone in place. Then he bent over and kissed him on the lips.

He’s changing him. He’s making him an immortal. The thought startled me. If Bécquer became an immortal, I could not be with him, I could not even talk to him because I wouldn’t trust him.

I jumped forward. “No.”

I grabbed Alexander’s arm. A lame attempt on my part, for his muscles felt like iron under my hand. Yet Alexander did stop and turned to face me. The drop of blood glowing bright red on his lips confirmed my suspicion.

“May I talk with him first?” My voice, weak with wanting, was barely audible.

Alexander shook his head. “I wouldn’t recommend waking him up. His body is healing too fast for a mortal’s consciousness to endure.”

“So, he’s mortal still?”

“For now. But if you excuse me — ”

“Please, don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because … ” Desperate, I looked around, and my eyes met the machine that was supposed to read Bécquer’s vitals but that was now frozen displaying the numbers of its last reading. The numbers of a mortal Bécquer. What would they read, I wondered, after he was no longer human? And that gave me the answer I was looking for. “Because if you do, Bécquer would be miraculously healed by morning and that would have the doctors wondering.”

Alexander laughed. “They won’t ask any questions, believe me. I will see to it.”

If I had considered seeing Bécquer after his change, Alexander’s casual acceptance that he manipulated humans’ minds reaffirmed my decision to stay away from immortals. If I wanted to say goodbye to Bécquer, the only way to do so was to postpone his change.

“What about the charts,” I improvised, “the medical records?” Had any immortal ever been at the hospital? Did the Elders have a protocol to deal with a situation such as this one?

Apparently not, because for the first time Alexander hesitated. “It could be arranged for new records to be made. But maybe it would be better if we wait to change him until he’s home.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “Talking to Bécquer will change nothing,” he said, his words confirming my suspicion that he had sensed my feelings. “Bécquer will choose to be immortal.”

“I only want to say goodbye while he is still human.”

“I’ll let him know. But you must promise you won’t wake him up tonight.”

I swallowed hard. “I promise.”

“All right, then. I’ll leave now. When Federico comes, tell him we’ll reconvene at Bécquer’s house by noon tomorrow.”

I nodded, a useless gesture because Alexander was already gone. The pressing beeping of the machine announcing it had been disconnected told me time had resumed its course for us.

Soon a nurse came in — the night nurse I had not met before. I told her Bécquer had broken his arm struggling against the straps that bound him to his bed. The fact that she didn’t question the unlikeness of my explanation, nor argue when I told her he didn’t need a cast, just to have his arm set, made me guess Alexander was controlling her mind.

When Federico arrived later that night, Bécquer was still unconscious. The immortal blood healing his body had raised his temperature so that his skin was hot to the touch, and the few times he opened his eyes, he had not recognized me. But Federico reassured me Bécquer would be better by morning.

“You should go now,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t be present when I talk to them.”

He didn’t explain further and I didn’t ask. Instead, I asked him to tell Bécquer that I wanted to talk with him before he became immortal.

Federico promised and, out of excuses to stay, I left.