A/N: Final chapter. I just wanted to make sure, beloved readers, that you caught the heavy foreshadowing in this story's tagline. If not, you may be really disappointed……….here goes…
Hoping to restore himself in Vera's sight, Eric arranged for a decadent meal to be laid out in the never-used dining room of their apartments.
She came home to the scent of warm bread. The room was ablaze with candles and Eric sat at the head of the table, waiting for her.
Vera cautiously took the seat that he offered her.
"Please," he said, gesturing for her to fill her plate.
She gave him a smile for the first time in days.
Pam stomped into the room and draped herself on a chair. Eric looked at her sharply.
"Eugh, how can you find any of this appetizing?"
Vera's bright smile faded and she pushed the plate away from her.
"I am not going to eat before an audience," she said gloomily.
"Would you like to be eaten before an audience?" Pam asked.
"Get out!" Eric commanded.
She had to obey, but took her time leaving.
Finally, Eric was alone with Vera again and tried to coax her into enjoying the meal.
"This cannot go on," she said. "We cannot go on. Not with her."
"I will send her away," Eric replied.
Thinking, he added eagerly, "I will send her to Godric in Germany. You never have to see her again."
"But she exists," Vera argued.
"Existence is a curious thing. The immediate physical reality of something is the only proof."
"So, what then? Out of sight, out of mind?"
"Yes! If she goes away, we can forget her. We can go back to the way it was before."
"I do not believe forgetting is possible. You made her."
Eric squared his jaw. He could not say anything to challenge the truth of that.
"Well, little fairy, what precisely do you want me to do?"
"Nothing."
He stood up from the table angrily.
"I told you I would make it better and you want 'nothing.' It is always 'nothing' I hear from you. You have made your life about giving up!"
"I do not have your inhuman strength," Vera replied, stressing the word inhuman.
"I refuse to have another conversation like this."
Vera sighed and stood to leave the room. Eric grabbed her arm.
In a fierce whisper, he said, "Ever since that first taste, I have only ever wanted you. Do you understand? You. A human. Mere prey, my means of survival. But it was you who was using me. All you wanted was for me to take your life out of your hands. You wanted me to expedite your demise and then demanded love from me as though I was capable of giving it. But I wonder now, what did you really feel?"
Vera's lip quivered. Eric was inches from her face.
"It will end as it began," she replied.
Puzzled, Eric stepped back, but Vera reached out, put a hand around his neck and kissed him.
"I do love you," she said.
"So what happens next?" he asked.
"You go out into the night and I turn to my bed."
"And tomorrow?"
Giving no response, Vera kissed Eric with a sense of finality.
He grinned.
"Sleep well and dream of me."
She pressed her lips to his hand and let him leave.
"Pam!" Eric called out in the other room. "We are going!"
The next evening when he rose, Eric found Vera in bed. He did not know if it was the end or the beginning of rest for her and did not dare to wake her.
Instead, he wrote a note. Pam looked over his shoulder.
"I thought you said you picked her up on the street. Can she even read?"
Eric glared at her and covered the paper with his hand so she could not see it.
He set the note on the dresser, placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, and whispered a farewell.
"You make a pathetic vampire," Pam needled.
"You will regret saying that," he answered darkly.
Vera had not truly been asleep. She sat up when she was sure they had left. She walked over and picked up Eric's note.
My dear wife and fairy,
I am sending Pam to Godric and we are going to move on to London. I have made all the arrangements. Paris will be a memory.
I love you.
I am yours,
Eric
Vera ran her finger over the words he had underlined boldly.
She sat at the writing desk and pulled out supplies to pen a reply. In one of the drawers, she found an old paper knife. It was rusted, but the handle was made of ivory. She set it next to the inkwell.
Eric – you were to be my Redeemer. You would have taken my life and set me free. But you made me give my heart to you. How could I not? Now it will be yours for all the days you walk this earth, though I am gone. Will you remember me? I hope you do. Take care of the heart I leave behind. It beats with love only for you.
Vera
She pressed a sheet of blotting paper over it and placed it gingerly aside. From the deep pocket of her skirt, she pulled out a vial.
It had been her errand that day and was finally found in an apothecary in Montmartre. Laudanum—she would sleep forever.
Vera squared herself in the chair and took a deep breath as she plucked out the cork.
Her heart raced.
She raised the bottle to her lips, froze, and set it down again. She began crying, burying her head in her hands on the desk. Something grazed her smallest finger. Through her tears, she saw the knife.
She picked it up and held it in a shaking hand. She grazed it along the tip of her index finger and a spot of red appeared.
There was only one way she could die. Eric had made it so.
***
At a table in the darkest corner of a bar, Eric and Pam staked out their night's meal.
"He looks delicious," Pam noted, pointing to a young man having his first drink.
"Fool, he came with someone."
Eric tilted his head in the direction of a stuffy man who appeared to be the boy's father.
"Fine, you can have him."
"I am not hungry. And I would not take him even if I was starving."
Pam noticed how the man coughed.
"Could his blood make you ill?"
"No, but it would not make me well."
"Oh," Pam said, sitting back a little, losing some of her affected confidence.
Suddenly, Eric grabbed his chest. His head snapped up, his eyes grew wide, and before Pam could understand what was happening, he tore out of the bar.
He broke down the door and skidded to a stop at the sight of Vera slumped in the chair at the writing desk.
He sensed the blood before he saw it. Dark pools spread across the marble at her feet. Eric could not control his fangs.
He swung the chair around to face her. She was white.
"No!"
He picked up one limp arm and then the other. He brought his face close to her neck. There was no pulse.
Without a second thought, he bit into his own wrist, and frantically held it over her lips. His blood poured down her chin. He shouted in exasperation.
"Vera…" he cried.
Desperate, he wilted to the floor.
He took her stained left hand and kissed the wound. Her blood tasted like the rusty blade, but his tongue traced the line of her finger with terrifying devotion. He had loved her. She was his.
Now she was empty. He was empty.
***
"I do not love humans," Eric said grimly.
"You know she's not entirely human," his queen argued. "My guess is fairy."
He gave her a sharp look.
"I take it you find fairies as irresistible as the rest of us?"
"Only one."
"Only Sookie?" she teased. "Well, have fun dealing with William Compton."
Eric hardly cared what Bill felt. For a hundred years, Eric had found nothing in the frailty of human form but sustenance and meaningless pleasure. They were a resource to exploit. Only when a woman, forbidden to him by her bond with another and strangely beyond nature, had stumbled into his territory did he perceive that old desire reawaken. He sought Sookie with determination and ardent curiosity, if only to find again the way Vera had made him feel. Yet, he knew, Sookie could never be what he lost. Vera was his wife through the millennia of his life. More cherished than his earthly bride, Eric's morbid little fairy was his most painfully pleasant memory, his first cut.
Much thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and enjoyed this story. If you're interested in more of my writing, I have a website: readmaura dot com. (the link is on my profile!)
