Chapter 7 The Countess
The Countess
As you can see, dear friend, it has been quite an adventure getting here.
The world is a dark and cold place, especially when your body has long since rotted away, but your soul is tethered to this earth.
But my mortal is out there. Her aching cries call out to me—begging me to haunt her to the very ends of this existence.
The true curse of love is knowing that there is someone out there for you, but not possessing them.
Our lifetimes existed too far apart, but in death, she will be mine.
I am a possessive lover, I admit it. Eleanor’s betrayal hurt so greatly, not because it was my own husband she’d slept with, but because she was supposed to have been mine. She promised me she would always be mine. But she lied. It was her betrayal that led me here, though.
Led me to her.
I haven’t felt this level of possession in lifetimes.
This all-consuming need to claim another creature and make them mine is one that has rarely seeped into the hole where my heart once beat; but my desire for this lovely girl is damn near maddening.
I’ve never tasted blood so sweet. And like an intoxication of the mind, I’m utterly enchanted with the mere idea of her and me together again.
Which has led me here, with you, watching and waiting among the shadows.
The game is no fun, you see, if she spots me too early.
She’s been running, hiding from me since that night in the manor.
Believing I wouldn’t chase her. Silly, sweet little morsel of mine.
Isn’t she quite lovely, though? My obsession with her grows more deadly each time I look upon her.
Her hair has grown longer in the months we’ve been apart.
It shimmers in the flashing strobes above.
She sways to the beat of the music, laughing with her friends.
Jealousy pricks my insides as I watch her smile. Her smiles should belong to me.
The band up on stage is dripping in the stench of male sweat.
Their odor is repugnant even from this distance.
Their music is aggressive, dark, and intense.
I’m not sure I love it, but I also don’t detest it.
It’s fine. It is quite loud, though, which will be perfect in case she screams and tries to fight me.
The male singer looks out at the crowd. He has dark hair and darker eyes.
Swirling tattoos cover his muscular form.
He is objectively attractive, I suppose.
His eyes land and fixate on a girl in the crowd with long dark hair.
My girl. He winks and she blushes. A most distasteful display.
That won’t do. No, not at all.
I think it’s time I offer my obsession a reminder that she made a deal, don’t you? She invited me here, after all, and then fled. She will soon realize, though, that deals with the Devil are not easily broken. Death is just the beginning for us.
Silently, I move across the room, my ghostly form gliding between the writhing human bodies with ease.
The living fear the dead, and yet we’re always here, always watching.
I place myself right next to my love, letting my fingers stroke the flesh of her arm.
She shivers in response, goosebumps erupting across her skin. I smile to myself.
So responsive.
She looks around, terror filling her face. She can sense me, but not see me. Not until I want her to. And soon that time will come. Soon, everything will be ready.
Hopefully, this time, she’ll revel with me in the bloodbath.