Page 61 of Cursed Lifeline

One, two, three women dance towards me. Their appearance sways together as they raise their skirts and the men in the crowd cheer. The tassels on the ladies’ gowns reflect off the light and blind me momentarily. Downing what must be my sixth or eighth glass of champagne, I attempt to rise to my feet, but the assault of the music mixing with the sparkling light and the cancan dancers has my stomach turning and my head whirling. I quickly grab hold of the arm of the sofa to steady myself and immediately sit back down.

The Moulin Rouge was more spectacular when Charles Zidler was around. Zidler’s partner, Joseph Oller, has barely been able to rebuild its image since a fire claimed the original building four or five years ago. It was a very sad time for one of Paris’s most loved cabarets. In my opinion, I don’t think the place will ever be the same.

After taking a few steadying breaths, I tell myself I am not as drunk as I feel. But when I look back up and see the three women were really only one all along, an inebriated chuckle falls from my lips. It grows, taking my sanity with it until I’m laughing like an intoxicated lunatic. Easing myself back into my seat, I close my eyes and grin. My head once again falls back against the velvet couch, and I clutch my woozy stomach as the alcohol mixes with the contracting pain of laughing and drinking my misery away.

My endless suffering these last hundred years, and the worry of possibly living a hundred more without being able to avenge my late sister’s death gets the better of me. I begin to choke on the end of my hysteria. Sucking in a shaky breath, I force back tears that have threatened to fall for over ten decades.

When I agreed to help Felix and accepted an immortal existence with the hopes of correcting the past, I didn’t think it would take this long. I didn’t think it would be this hard. I didn’t think... at all. I know I wouldn’t have made another choice, but if given the chance, I would have at least paused, if only to prepare myself for the worst-case scenario. Because that’s precisely what this is. It's a torturous waiting game we’ve all found ourselves barely tolerating since Esme’s been gone.

I haven’t heard from Felix in months. As for Silas and Caelum, it’s been a couple of years. They’ve both been put on separate assignments watching girls the council thought would turn into slayers. But the poor women never materialized into much more than hopeful pawns in a sick game we’re all playing.

Word has it, Silas has been assigned a new prospect. As for Caelum, I’m not sure where he is.

The council hasn’t assigned me anything in decades. Raising my glass to my lips, a sarcastic chuckle falls from my mouth as I reluctantly admit I’ve been overlooked because of the addiction I’ve formed. The one that’s currently clutched in my hand. One that only offers me a small drop at the bottom of an empty glass that, in reality, is not guaranteed to numb the pain permanently.

Alcohol and women, typically in that order, have been my go-to the last hundred years to block out the unknown. The what-ifs. Not just because of Esme, but also because of a princess that still haunts my dreams since the first moment I laid eyes on her.

Evangeline.

Since almost a century ago, I haven’t been able to shake her from my memory.

I’ve tried. Countless times. Daily. Nightly.

Double-fisting bottles with two to three women by my side, I’ve fucking tried.

But nothing has dulled the ache that parting ways with her has inflicted on my soul.

After the first quarter of the last century, I gave up hope that I’d see Evangeline again. But that doesn’t stop me from looking for her around every corner, in every dark alley, in dim hallways, and on lonely walks to and from the latest cabaret I’ve unfortunately chosen to drown myself in night after night.

In fact, it doesn’t stop my intoxicated mind from hallucinating her in front of me right now as I open my eyes and watch an angelic goddess glide toward me. She’s flanked on her right by a man in black. A man with violet eyes that looks down on me with distaste as the virginal priestess comes to a stop right in front of me.

I smile as I take in her familiar face. My heart warms as my eyes travel across every curve of her breathtaking features. Ones I’ve dreamed about gazing upon for the last hundred years. Eyes so light blue, they almost look white. Short, pale golden locks, styled in finger waves frame her face, giving her a radiance that screams immortality. Her tresses are adorned with a pearl and rhinestone headband, complete with a white feather on the right side. Freckles dust her cheeks and her adorable button nose.

I lick my lips as my head cocks to the side and my heated gaze roams the curve of her ample breasts, before falling to her tiny waist, thick hips, and mouthwatering thighs covered by a baby blue dress with iridescent tassels. As if I’m a man dying of thirst, a groan escapes my lips as my eyes lift back up slowly to catch the beautiful blue irises of the mirage in front of me.

Like the drunken, slurring fool I am, I speak to my fantasy, need overflowing through the gravel of my voice, and say, “A deal with the devil.” The angel before me frowns. “I’d sell my soul for one night with you, princess. In fact, I wouldn’t even do it with the hope of defiling your virtue.” Raising my glass to my lips, I curse when I remember it’s empty. My voice cracks with emotion as I mumble, “I’d settle for holding you, if you’d only let me close enough to never let you go.”

“Get up, you blubbering fool,” Felix growls, fisting my collar in his grip and snapping me to my feet. The empty champagne flute tumbles out of my hand and crashes to the floor. I blink a few times, attempting to clear the fog in my head and focus on the sad eyes of the woman in front of me.

The princess stares back at me with worry, and my mouth grows dry. My feet give out. I start to fall forward, into the stunning creature my mind has been unable to escape, when Felix grabs me by my lapels and holds me upright.

“I’ve been told on good authority that you’ve been behaving yourself, Alfred,” Felix says as he pulls me toward the exit. My eyes stayed glued on Evangeline. Scared to look away, I grab out to her, and she graciously holds my hand as the Prince of Darkness fumbles with me in his arms, and we make our way to the door. “Looks to me like my men need a lesson in what’s considered acceptable behavior if they consider your demeanor orderly.”

My head whips his way, and I gleefully blurt out, “She’s beautiful.” Felix studies me with a raised brow before his gaze lifts and locks on Evangeline. My head wobbles back her way. My heart breaks when I notice an aloof frown pull at the sides of her tempting mouth. Slurring, I lean towards Felix and attempt to whisper, “Though I don’t think she likes me much.”

The fae at my side giggles and I look back her way in shock. I never thought I’d live to witness the day a laugh could tempt my broken heart back to life.

“What’s not to like?” Felix grumbles as he manages to push me through the front doors of the cabaret. “Drunk and disorderly is everyone’s favorite rubbish to deal with. Especially when life’s finally dealt us the hand we’ve been waiting for.”

Grabbing hold of Felix’s jacket, I stagger backward as we come to a stop in the middle of the streets of Paris.

“Wait,” I teeter back and forth.

Evangeline kindly steps to my side and helps keep me still.

“The hand we’ve been waiting for?” I ask as the princess’s warm touch sends a jolt of ecstasy through my veins.

I force myself to focus on Felix and his response, not the urge to pull the princess into my arms and promise her the moon if it meant she’d continue being my sun. My guiding light. The reason I get up in the morning. The one thing that keeps me hopeful as I drift off to sleep at night, dreaming of the day I’d see her again.

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