"And then there are the rare ones who know love, who understand it. There are those who freely give of themselves, demanding only a return of that love, that trust."--- Kim Harrison, Every Which Way But Dead

November 25th, 2015
Aubrey Parish, Louisiana

Inside the little beachfront cottage belonging to the elegant vampire, Zia finds a bit of peace and contentment. She loves the water and the shade of the large tree that is perfect for picnics and long talks, things she's made sure to do with both Brian and Colton. She enjoys the feeling of the days growing longer, and the way they eventually blend into one another as if they are a portrait of a long memory.

Zia knows that it must seem like she is saying goodbye and finding a kind of peace with the world. It is hard on those around her, but it is the final part of her journey.

Acceptance.

She can't explain the change is due to a sense of excitement, a type of hope she hasn't experienced since learning her life came with an expiration date.  She of course understands that every life comes with an expiration date. The blessing that keeps everything and everyone moving normally is that the date is always a secret. If it were any other way, the world would be in a state of perpetual panic and grief.

It is the not knowing that keeps everyone sane. The few who do know the secret carry the burden in silence for the sake of everyone else. 

Eleni brings peace to the dying woman because she is a reminder of hope. Zia has never been the sort of woman to believe in Heaven or Hell. No matter what Brian preaches, she is doubtful of any angels or demons swooping down to retrieve her soul. In her mind, Death is an end to life, nothing more and nothing less. Zia isn't sure if it is out of love or reason, but she doesn't fear Eleni in the way many would if they knew exactly the sort of creature she is.

The last strains of daylight are visible through the window of Eleni's bedroom. When Zia looks out to admire the pinks and violets of the fading day, her heart fills with a sense of yearning. For a moment, she is once again a child, glancing at the sky and wishing for a life of romance and adventure.

Life didn't disappoint me, she thinks to herself, eyes clouding over with tears she can't bring herself to shed.

The lights of Aubrey Parish are a precious sight to catch, visible only at dawn and dusk, and then only when it's not raining. For twenty minutes each day, the Parish lifts the veil of grey to show the beautiful sky underneath, forever a blushing bride.

After she watches the clouds reclaim the sky, Zia's hands move through the gowns that hang in Eleni's closet. It is the wardrobe of an eccentric woman, many of the pieces hanging there far too expensive and too elaborate for a place like Aubrey Parish. Zia sees how it might be a piece of home for Eleni, a memory of happy times for one who had once been the toast of New Orleans.

The longer she thumbs through the gowns, the more she sees the relics of other times and other places. She imagines Eleni choosing a memory from each time in her life from a much larger wardrobe, packing trunks that would populate her new home. It occurs to her that the life of an immortal must be a lonely one, a  thought that causes her to wrap her arms around herself for comfort.

It must be hard for her to be here, Zia thinks with a sense of compassion. Everyone wonders why she is here, but no one considers what she left behind.

As if the other woman can read her mind, Zia jumps a bit at the tell-tale clicking of heels that announces Eleni's arrival before anything else.  "I'm sorry."Zia's words tumble out quickly as she removes her hand from a piece of black silk hanging in the closet. "I didn't mean to look through your things. They're breathtaking, though, these gowns." 

Eleni smiles, and lets out a merry little laugh. "I know, it's a surprise to see I own clothing that actually covers my legs instead of displaying them to the world." 

"I didn't mean--" Zia feels her face flush, though she realises she did mean exactly that. Eleni was an impeccably dressed woman, though not one known for her modesty.

"It's alright. There's not much reason to dress for the opera or for anything worthy of most of a full-length gown, yet I had to bring them with me. I did not feel quite like myself without a bit of home by my side."  Zia finds herself staring as Eleni's lips push up into a light-hearted smile.

"Should you like to pick a gown for yourself? I think tonight constitutes a special occasion. I even have a bottle of champagne that passes for decent." The tone in Eleni's voice makes it very clear she is doubtful about the champagne.

Zia can't hide the girlish laugh that is her response to both the question and the comment on decent champagne in the Parish. "Eleni, that's very sweet, but you do know that even a dying woman can't borrow your clothing. I'm smaller that I was at fifteen, and my shoulders would still get stuck in there. You've been blessed with an incredibly petite figure." She wants to ask how much of that is natural, and how much is vampire-related, but it seems impolite.

Eleni pulls the silk gown that Zia had dared to touch a moment ago from the closet. "Ah, Madame Zia, I come from a time where women were formed to fit the popular style and not the other way around. The style was whatever made la Reine look best. Ours just happened to be small and fragile with hair and bosoms pushed up to the sky. Thank goodness big hair is no longer the fashion." The comment makes the other woman smile, remembering how she'd spray her hair mercilessly before running off to school.

"Once upon a time, if you did not fit a gown, the stays would make you learn to do so and you would not eat much. If you happened to have a flat bosom or small hips, the gown would make it seem you were created to perfection. Even one's lovers rarely knew the truth. Clothing was too elaborate to simply pull off and on. You see, Madame Zia, humanity has always been a vain thing. The things we admire are mostly illusion." Eleni tilts her head with a charming smirk, almost as if she's letting Zia in on the great secret of life.

Maybe it is, Zia muses to herself. Eleni's words often have a kind of wisdom behind them, even though she owns far more shoes than books.

Zia feels a bit like a project that the almost-upbeat Eleni is studying. Putting back the black silk gown, Eleni instead removes a flowing black dress made of a fabric that reminds Zia of the days when even pop stars pretended to be Goth. It is not entirely black, adorned with white trims and ribbons. She restrains a bit of a laugh at the daring neckline that was covered with a thin veil of lace. It hangs there, completely detached. There is a sense of relief in knowing some aspects of Eleni's personality are constant. It is a little detail that lets Zia know she will not lose herself, not entirely.

"This one, though, is much more your style." Eleni's voice is both lilting and knowledgeable. "It is a garment made for freedom, but with the grace and sensuality of flower petals. I think,Madame Zia, this is how you are. You have a light and romantic soul, but it has been coloured by darkness."

Zia's recently manicured hand reaches out to touch the fabric, appreciating the beauty and fragility of the gown. "When did you ever wear this kind of thing, Eleni? It doesn't seem like you at all."

Eleni shakes her head in response. "Non. I can say firmly it is not like me. It is Italian, and I am French. The ways of the countries have always been very different, in fashion and in art. They are more severe and also fatter."  Zia says nothing, wondering what it must be like to have traveled the world and learned so many things through the passing of the years. For the first time, Colton's secret longings and wanderlust resonate with her.

Holding the dress up to Zia, Eleni murmurs, "This was a gift to me during my time in Venice, and now I shall gift it to you. After all, we are to be family, yes?"

Zia's eyes fill with tears, not remembering the last time someone had given her something to make her feel beautiful. "Thank you, Eleni. I know this probably holds memories for you. The idea that you would give it to me so it will hold one of my most special memories means the world."

She sits on the edge of the bed, suddenly tired and overwhelmed by the realisation of what today would mean for her, for all eternity. "Eleni, you've kept so many beautiful things. Did you keep the dress you wore when..." Zia trails off, her head hanging a bit. "I am just wondering if it is a good memory or a painful one."

A soft sigh leaves Zia's lips, and Eleni sits on the bed next to her. She has come to think of Eleni as a friend and confidante, not as the woman who has a strange hold upon her son. Zia wishes Eleni could hold her hand or hug her, but she also knows the reason she does not. It is the most respectful gesture Eleni can offer, the refusal to do anything that might coerce someone into a decision. "Madame Zia, you need not do this if you are not ready. There is still time. How much, no one knows, but there is time to talk and think---"

"No!" A wave of panic washes over Zia's frail body. "No, it has to be now. You told me, Eleni, how time freezes. Every day that goes by is another one where I lose more of myself. Each day, I age another year. Not even immortality can return what time takes from me. If I wait too long, there is no point at all."

Eleni's sapphires feel like they can stare through Zia, even though she doesn't turn her head completely. "I am afraid, Eleni. I am glad you are here, but my family---they are not. Brian doesn't even know. I don't know how he can ever know, or it will be the end of any love he still has for me. It will be the end of any love he has for you, as well. I know too well how my son's love turns to hatred." Zia's voice softens, relaxing into melancholy.

It is a moment before Eleni speaks, and she does so in a measured way, choosing her words carefully. "Madame Zia, it is for the best they are not here. Let us be honest, yes? Whether you change what you are in this room tonight or simply leave to journey beyond this Earth in weeks or months, they shall not accept it." For just a brief moment, Zia feels Eleni's hand on her arm. It is a second of comfort. "They both love you, but love is selfish and love is often weak. There would be tears and prayers, but no peace for you. Love brings only regret to the dying."

Eleni smiles wryly, and murmurs, "It was different for me. I left the world in a violent, unforgivable way. I returned not with love in my heart, but vengeance. My Sire was my greatest enemy until the day he was killed. There are few others I hate as I hate him, and even though he is dead, the passion with which I despise him is not. It never will be."

Zia's eyes look serious, and Eleni moves closer to her. Careful to touch as little as possible, Eleni lets Zia's hair fall free, raven-coloured and disobedient. The older woman notices the way Eleni's fingers move as if they've done such things for a lifetime, plaiting Zia's hair into a duplicate of Eleni's.

"It is strange, Eleni. My son's girlfriend is going to be my mother, in a way. Does this mean I am a Princess or something now?"  Zia quips, as Eleni moves over to a small vanity and returns with various brushes and tubes. 

"Ah, alas, it does not quite work that way, Madame Zia. It does mean you are a daughter of one of France's oldest noble families, or you shall be when you open your eyes again. Even I am no Princesse. Do hold still." Eleni carefully outlines Zia's eyes with a dramatic swoop of black liner and sweeps a subtle shadow across her brow.

"It takes so little work to make you look like one of us. You favour my daughter, Marguerite. She is lovely, but strong. She carries the world upon her shoulders. My youngest child, Odelie, she takes after my Maman, who was the most beautiful woman I've ever known." As Eleni dots crimson lipstick on Zia's lips, Zia can see Eleni's face beam in pride. "Should it not be funny to learn the truth is that we are related along the way? Your name, of course, is as French as one can be." 

Zia presses her lips together, indulging Eleni, but secretly delighted at playing dress-up with the petite fashionista. "This is like being a young girl and playing in my mother's closets all over again. This time, I will look less like a clown." Zia attempts to stand up, her eyes glancing toward the mirror. 

"Non, Madame Zia. Not yet. First, Yvonne helps to dress you as she does for me. Then you must have perfume and a jewel or two to complete your look. After that, you may look. No one ever promised beauty was achieved without effort, even if some come by it naturally." Eleni giggles, an almost girlish affectation in her movements.

"Oh, Eleni. This is really silly, isn't it? No one is going to see me, and I'm not the princess type."

Eleni's face looks almost indignant. "It certainly is not silly. If you choose to be part of my family, you will learn vanity and pride quickly enough. The women of my family are all admired greatly. You will be the same."

Zia's expression is wistful at the youthful excitement buzzing around her, a part of Eleni she has never seen. Eleni believes there is some magic spell that will turn Zia into someone as elegant and beautiful as she is. She feels a little sorry for the vampire, who doesn't know she'd be exquisite even without magic. For the first time, it occurs to Zia that in terms of immortal beings, Eleni is not particularly old. "Eleni, have you done this before? What if something goes wrong?" 

At long last, Zia feels the warmth and comfort of Eleni's hand on her own. "I shall be honest, Madame Zia. I have tried and failed before. As I told you, love can make people weak. The power of life and death, it is the most intoxicating power that can be felt."

Eleni pauses, and says, "It is hard for all of us, knowing it may be better to die with a soul than to live without one. I failed because of love and because of mercy."

Zia feels her breath come sharply and her head spin in a moment of panic. "Please don't think that about me. Please. My soul is stained and broken in a way that I will be happier to let it go. Haven't you ever known people like that, those who don't want what you call mercy?" Her eyes look into Eleni's, almost as if pleading. "Some people want a second chance at a life that wasn't supposed to end so soon. Of all people, you have to know what that's like."

Eleni's head tilts, and she nods softly. "Madame Zia, you have time to choose. You have time to consider things. It is a gift I was never given. I do not remember choosing. The day that changed me was the most painful I shall ever endure and I choose not to remember, but I know that an instinct inside me chose survival. I shall never stop asking myself if I was terribly weak, if I should have accepted Death proudly and graciously."

Silence hangs in the air, and Zia's presses her lips together, anger starting to bubble up inside her. "I won't ask that. I will never think that. There is too much love not to choose life, in any form. It doesn't matter what it costs me, Eleni. I will always think of myself as strong for this."

Eleni's hand brushes against Zia's cheek, causing the anger and the flushed cheeks to calm almost instantly. "We must all seal our own fates, Madame Zia. The only people who choose the wrong way are those who believe this is something that happened to them, as if they did not choose at all."

Eleni studies the older woman, her eyes turning thoughtful. "Death comes for every creature, and some have the choice to refuse. Accepting that choice is not as easy as you believe it to be. The choice is yours to make. I am merely the instrument that allows you to decide." 

Zia doesn't respond, and Eleni leans in and kisses her cheek."When the time comes, and you see a beautiful devil or a golden angel before you, that is the only time you know your mind. You believe you know now, but life is hard and Death is seductive. If you do not return, no one shall hate you. In fact, I will admire you and envy your peace. Either way, I will think of you as one of the strongest women I've known. That's why it would honour me to have you as my family."

Zia's face looks panicked, her chest tightening.  Even the comforting touch of Eleni's lips doesn't calm her as it usually does. "Eleni, I'm scared. I'm not as brave as you think I am. I am afraid because this isn't how I wanted it to happen. I always thought when my time came, I'd be surrounded by those who love me. Instead, I will only have you and if you decide you can't do this---"

Eleni stands up, her voice suddenly agitated. "None of us, absolutely none of us, leave the world surrounded by those we love. It is always lonely and horrifying and clandestine. It can be no other way. It is Death, and it is rebirth, and both are messy experiences. When a baby comes into the world, it does so screaming and crying and feeling abandoned. Imagining it to be different the second time is an illusion. You must let that go or you will endure terror. It will leave scars on your mind, and I cannot do that to you, Madame Zia. I won't."  

Zia feels herself shaking, not knowing how to respond, and terrified by Eleni's anger. "I'm just scared, Eleni. I would be scared no matter how I died, and I don't think anyone can blame me. One day, they will be just as terrified. Either way, I leave not knowing what's on the other side." 

Eleni seems to calm down, and her body sinks down next to Zia's. "It makes you no different from every person who has ever lived. At least you have the security of knowing the Sheriff wanted someone else here, in case anything went wrong. If something happens and I cannot do what I need to do, you will have another Sire. I do not plan for that, Madame Zia, but I am glad I cannot and will not abandon you when you need me most."

The sensation of a heartbeat catching in Zia's throat almost knocks her over. She grasps Eleni's hands firmly, and nods. "That means a lot to me, Eleni. I feel safe knowing there's a guard, but also worried. I want it to be you who travels with me. I want to be your family, Eleni. It probably sounds crazy, but I have started to love you so much that I want to know what it's like to be you."

Zia's eyes close as Eleni leans in and kisses her forehead with what feels like tenderness. "Be careful what you wish for, ma petite cherie." This time, Eleni's lips are peaceful and a thing of beauty. Her presence reverberates through the room.

Eleni's fingers begin to work the magic that mystifies Zia, and she feels her breath catching as if preparing to leave her. "Who is the other person, Eleni? Who is the one here to make sure everything is okay? Will they watch---everything?" Zia's cheeks blush slightly, remembering her reaction to first meeting Eleni, something that still stuns her. She can't imagine someone else watching.

Zia feels her body leave her power as Eleni lifts her up and places her on the pillows. "You shall hopefully never need to know any of that, and it does not matter. The only thing that matters is in this room right now. You are radiant, Madame Zia, and happy. You have the second chance you desired. Let us get you ready."

"It's time, Eleni. Isn't it? I know because the fear and the pain are leaving."

Zia is aware of the gentle way in which the other woman undresses her, and the strength of another pair of hands that are not as soothing or magical, but just hands. The clasp of bracelets around her wrists makes her smile, and the scent of perfume lingering over her body is like watching a movie about a girl becoming a Princess. It is surreal, and Zia doesn't dare to open her eyes in case it breaks the spell. She drowns in the excitement of sumptuous fabric against her skin, and Zia almost swoons. "Is that it, Eleni? Is that the gown you showed me, the one you once wore? It feels so much like you."

The small but deft movements of Eleni's hands close a series of small buttons, a reminder that it the dress is a relic of a time where zippers were not yet a convenience. Zia's body shudders in a kind of anticipation with each one, as if she is being sealed into a new identity. "Indeed, Madame Zia, and you are far more breathtaking than I was on that day. It is a gown that suits you.I think it has waited a long time for you."

Almost as if on cue, there is a sharp rapping against the door, and the sound of footsteps and voices. Zia's body trembles, unable to make out the sounds. She feels the way the force of her own heartbeat shakes inside her, and her breath has a mind of its own. "Eleni, they scare me. I feel you less, knowing strangers are here with us. It reminds me how alone I am."

Zia doesn't see the way Eleni's eyes close, and the look of compassion that moves over the usually inexpressive features. Somehow, though, she feels them. Eleni's hands move over Zia's shoulders, her chest, and finally drift to hold her rib cage still. "There's nothing to fear,Madame Zia. No one here wants to hurt you. You were at peace and full of strength just moments ago. Let no one take that from you."

There is only silence,and Zia doesn't know how many seconds or minutes, or even hours pass by. The firm grip of Eleni's hands and the lilting melody of her words chase away the fear, giving her comfort. When they let go, they travel up and down the length of Zia's body, soothing and stirring a much deeper longing inside her. "Eleni?" The word is a weak one, almost a gasp.

The name is met with a chuckle. "No, Madame Zia, we shall not play that sort of game we did the last time. You must keep your strength. I cannot say you won't find any pleasures of the flesh during your journey, but who you are in these moments is who you shall always be. If you are angry, you shall always harbour violence. If you are sad, your disposition will be melancholy. If you are lustful, you will hunger insatiably. Try to focus on yourself, and nothing else."

Zia sighs, her shoulders pressing into the bed. "I don't want to think about myself anymore. I want to focus on you. Will I be like you are, Eleni? You have a special way that makes people feel things, and I've never known anyone or anything like that before. Will I have to keep gloves on to hug my own son so he doesn't notice?"

Eleni's merry little bell of laughter fills the room. "Ah, Madame Zia, I am not so heartless as to pass my grudges and curses to you as my Sire did to me. I hope with all that I am you are nothing like me. I already have one daughter who is like me, and she suffers for it. I want you to know true happiness."

A well-manicured finger moves to Zia's throat, stroking gently into the hollowed flesh that marks the bottom of her neck. When the lovely brunette arches her back, as if to offer the very source of her being, Eleni's lips finally move over the tender flesh. The movement is simple and utterly entrancing, and this time, Zia cries out in earnest. 

For the first time in a long time, Zia recognises the frailty and the failure of her own body. A kind of weakness and the need to rest begins to overwhelm her, and expressing an emotion as simple as desire is exhausting. The last days of her life had not been those of pain and fragility. Instead, she had been surrounded by love and family and the promise of the future. She feels it now, the sense of illusion that brought her comfort fading from her power.

No matter what she chooses, all roads led to the same destination. "Eleni?"

The small whisper isn't a plea this time, but a question. She can feel the tiny hands supporting her, lifting her up as if she is a feather. Her body relaxes into Eleni's hands, visibly shuddering as the crimson lips she's seen a million times tease her skin.

Eleni was right, she thinks to herself. The whole world falls away, and the idea of ever returning to a place so complicated and messy is exhausting. "Yes, Zia?"

The melodic voice makes her sigh and smile in contentment. It is the first time Eleni hadn't addressed her formally, but as a friend, a woman, one who would soon be united with her forever. Zia feels a surge of love move through her, not just for Eleni, but for her home and her family. "Please don't let them forget me. I don't want to be forgotten."

Zia can feel Eleni's hands hold her tighter, bringing a sense of stillness to the candid admission. She meant to say thank you, or to tell her family she loves them with all her head. Instead, she let the selfish truth escape the confines of her mind. Zia wants everyone to believe she is choosing this path for her family. For possibly the first time in her life, she knows she is choosing happiness for herself. She is ashamed of her selfishness, but it is not enough to change her heart. 

The weight of the world falls away from her shoulders when she feels the tenderness of Eleni's lips against hers, and she gasps a jagged-edged breath that she can't feel from Eleni. "Zia, you're going to make sure of that yourself. When the moment comes, all you have to do is decide. Ask for what you want, and no one will deny you that."

Fear and passion and emotion well up inside Zia, and it is only the surprising strength of Eleni's body and words that keep her from exploding those things everywhere. She is aware of time beginning to stop, as if she is a stuck inside the movie of her own life, and the whimpers and cries she makes when Eleni's lips move back to her neck are a thing of pure joy and need. It flashes through Zia's mind that this whole scene is something shameless and even depraved. Nothing has ever delighted her more intensely.

Zia doesn't see what her body is communicating, but her mind only reacts to instinct now, and follows what she wants. Words don't work any longer, there is only touch and response. Zia is falling into an increasingly heavy haze, and for a moment, panics. What if I forget how to ask? What if she can't understand me?

She feels Eleni's small figure trembling as much as her own, and it is a sensation that leaves her gasping. The lilting, controlled voice is now one of thinly veiled seduction. It has electricity inside it, and arouses every nerve in her body to the point of torment.

Eleni said Death was seductive, she remembers.

"That's it, Zia. It's that simple. All that's left to do is choose. Choose me." The temptation lurking deep within the words leaves Zia breathless and full of delight. She can't remember how to make sounds through the fog of confusion, but she knows she has to find one last bit of strength to grasp on to everything she wants.

"Always." It is a barely audible whisper that falls from her lips, but she hears it as if it belongs to someone else.

Zia is aware of little reason now, only the way her weightless being pushes itself up toward Eleni. Almost immediately, she is rewarded with a kind of euphoria that leaves her sobbing silently. Eleni's hands guide her somewhere soft and beautiful. Any sound she wants to make sticks in her throat, but her sense of touch is alive in a way no drug on Earth can provide.

In the back of her mind, she remembers the warnings about passion and lust and emotion, but Zia can't escape the intense cloud that surrounds her with every second that passes.

There are no angels or demons or faces of lost loved ones that appear behind Zia's eyes. There are no people lurking strangely in the house or peeking through the windows. There are no terrors and the word "No" doesn't cross her mind. There is only Eleni and the way Zia is so easily entangled in the web of sheer euphoria and safety that comes from the simplest of movements. The world is so beautiful, it moves her to helplessness.

Desperate to be heard, she gasps and struggles cry out, wanting to let Eleni know she is choosing her for eternity.

Zia can't figure out how to say the words, but the world explodes into a million little stars as she sinks down into what must be a cloud. The delicate shape of Eleni's figure presses against her, and Zia pictures her arms trying to pull the beautiful woman deeper into her. The forbidden sobs tighten inside her throat, but it isn't sadness that consumes her. Zia never loses the sense of joy, not even for the brief second when pleasure turns into a sharp pain of loss and anguish that confuses her.

Everything around Zia is the pure essence of love. It is so powerful she can do nothing but weep in gratitude and grasp at the seemingly endless abundance of delight being offered. From a distance, she can hear Eleni ask her to choose, to surrender something. Without thought and completely enraptured, her mind and body obey, making the decision over and over again.

She cherishes every moment, holding on until the stars in the night sky shine too brightly for her to bear any longer.

After forty-two years of happiness and heartbreak, Zia's world is still a thing of beauty.