I first met Jess at a New Years Eve party in 1999. She was celebrating the incoming millennium with friends. I hadn’t been invited, but that was hardly an issue for me. I was simply there to find some food, and instead found her.
What first attracted me to her was that she looked so much like Tara I thought for several moments that Tara had somehow managed to survive into modern nights. I approached her, and as I got closer I could see the differences that made her not-Tara. Despite this, I was still intrigued, and approached.
She rebuffed my attentions at first. I didn’t know it when I had approached, but she had a boyfriend, and he was the controlling type. He headed over and seemed cordial enough – until he got her away. I could see from a distance that he was berating her, and she was just taking it – akin to an animal that had been beaten too often.
What really pissed me off was when he slapped her. I wasn’t going to stand for that. Sure, I supposed some part of me still saw her as my Tara at that point, but even beyond that I don’t care to see women beat up. How I was raised, I suppose. In any event, I confronted him, and predictably he played the tough guy role. Despite being as angry as I was I remained calm, and spoke in a low, threatening tone when I told him to leave her be. He swung at me, but I caught his fist easily enough and gave it a little squeeze, enough to break bones judging by his pained expression and cries of agony.
He slunk off like the bully he was, and I turned to her, and apologized. Then she looked at me – really saw me, and thanked me. She had a sweet voice, and I offered her my arm and a dance. She seemed amused by the gesture, but took my arm and we walked off to talk and to dance. I discovered that she was an aspiring musician, and I told her that I wrote songs for a living. This intrigued her, and I joked about someday writing a song for her. The comment made her blush.
We had a few drinks – or rather she did and I pretended – and got together to watch the countdown. When midnight hit, we shared our first kiss. She was embarrassed by her forwardness at doing so, until I assured her I did not mind in the least. We talked a while longer and when I had to leave to make it back to my haven I asked her if we could meet again, and she said yes.
We established a friendship first and foremost. I learned that the guy she had been with had threatened and guilted her into staying with him over the past several months, and I made a silent vow to track him down. She was in college at Columbia University studying music, and was originally from Arizona, but had moved to New York City to attend the university.
She shared a dorm room with three other girls with whom she was friends, and she warned me that, especially after the most recent guy, I would have to pass muster with her friends if we were to date. I smiled at her and she blushed, a trait that would persist over the years.
Don’t get me wrong – I thought long and hard about whether or not to pursue a relationship. She wasn’t Tara, I kept reminding myself, but I liked her all the same, and wanted to see how far and how long I could keep up the ruse. How long it would be before my secret came to light.
Her friends were intent on picking my history and I clean apart in order to analyze me and figure if I was alright for Jess. I’m a more than competent liar by now, and was easily able to relay my newest identity’s backstory; that I lived alone, that I wrote music for a living, and that my family had passed a few short years ago.
I evidently won them over, because before dinner was finished they were attempting to flirt with me. But I only had eyes for Jess. By month’s end we were dating on a fairly regular basis. We’d started out with simple enough dates – I didn’t want to scare her off with my wealth, and I wanted to make certain she wasn’t a gold digger.
Over time, I introduced her to my lifestyle, and it did overwhelm her. She grew accustomed to it over time – but it took a long time for her to adapt. I left her plenty of time for her studies, and when she graduated with her bachelor’s degree two years later I offered to take her anywhere she wanted. She said she didn’t care as long as it was with me.
With some effort, I kept things hidden from her, and I flew her to Hawaii to celebrate – a place I knew she’d never been but always wanted to go to. I encouraged her to explore on her own, citing a sensitivity to the sun, and promising to be there when she got back. She loved the vacation, and said it was all the more special because she had me. While she’d missed me during the day, she wasn’t stupid, and took advantage of whatever she wanted to do.
When we got back to New York, she settled back into her dorm and got ready to continue her education. I promised her that if she could stick with it and get her master’s degree, that I would work with her on starting a career in the industry. Giddy, she readily agreed, and spent the next two years studying hard, but ultimately accomplishing her goal. As promised, I helped her.
Her talent lay with singing, so I hired a professional to help coach her, and teach her a wide range of songs, from classical and operatic pieces, to more modern music. She soaked it all up like a sponge and was all the better for it. After a year of training with the vocal coach, I’d made up my mind to try and have a life with her for sure, and shortly thereafter, proposed.
We hit a lucky break around Christmas of the following year. Someone had heard her demo, and wanted to sign her. I had her make the meeting in the evening so I could review the contract and make sure she wasn’t getting screwed over. With some minor changes, the contract turned out to be fine, and we set out with the company to work with some professionals on putting out an album.
The first single from the album charted reasonably well, but the second single fared far better, and scored her a respectable place on the charts when the album dropped. Excited at her success, she readied herself for touring as an opening act for a bigger artist. Her popularity had a slow but steady rise, and by her third album in early 2012 she was regularly topping the charts.
I knew she was an open minded person, but whether or not she was receptive to the idea of other things out there was something I didn’t know. I broached the subject by asking if she believed in ghosts or not, and she relayed to me a childhood experience she’d had with a specter that severely spooked her.
She wouldn’t let me talk – just told me to go to sleep. As day was approaching, I did. I don’t know what she did during the day, but come evening she was there waiting for me. “If you are what you say you are,” she said, holding up a finger to shush me before I could speak “and I’m leaning towards believing you, you need blood to survive, right?” I nodded and she spoke again before I could. “Then prove it to me. Feed from me.”
I protested, offering to feed instead from the housekeeper while she watched, or something similar, but she refused. “I want to know for myself.” she’d said. I took her into my arms and kissed her, brushed her hair inside and whispered “I love you” into her ear before I bit into her neck, drinking from her, trying to gauge how much I would need to take for her to believe.
When I had finished, I hadn’t taken much, and she reached up to feel the marks on her neck. I asked her to move her hand so I could close the wounds and she did, after a moment. “I didn’t think it would feel so good.” she had said. I simply gave her a small smile and asked if she believed me now, and she said yes. It was good to get my secret out there, I think. I had the woman I loved to share that part of my life with.
She asked all the questions one would expect; ‘is Dracula real?’, ‘Does sunlight hurt you?’, etc., and I answered them more or less honestly, without diving into the nitty gritty of the situation. She asked if Renfields were real once, so I told her about ghouls. She thought on it a while and asked if I would ever do that to her. It gave me pause. Would I? Would I ghoul her, to keep her with me, and risk our love becoming nothing more than the blood bond? Or would I let her grow old, staying by her side, eventually watching her die?
I didn’t like either prospect. I gave her the honest answer and the reasons that tore at me. She seemed to accept this, and never said another word of it until our anniversary in 2016. I should have done it – maybe then she’d still be alive.
Her popularity had grown significantly enough that she was now headlining concerts. I traveled with her as I could preferring to keep her near me. The paparazzi loved her, and so did the fans – some to obsession. Security was fairly good at weeding out the obsessed ones, which is why no one saw it coming when one of them pulled out a gun and shot Jess in the heart.
In a way, it was lucky that I wasn’t there. By my not being there, dozens of lives, including my own, were saved. But by my not being there, she died on the way to the hospital. I was numb when I first heard the news. As it gradually sank in when I was alone, my vision blurred, and the next thing I knew, the apartment had been destroyed. I must have frenzied.
Samuel was waiting for me when I came to, and he asked me if now was I willing to make a deal with him. He promised me anything, including bringing Jess back. I was very tempted, but in the end, didn’t believe he could actually do it. Beyond that, it would be a big risk. It had already been widely reported that she was dead. I turned him down.
I arranged for her funeral – her family deserved that much at least, and gave a eulogy. It was brief but tried to convey how much she had meant to me over the past 17 years. A memorial for fans to mourn was put underway by her studio, but I refused to attend. I wanted to be alone with my memories of her.
The funeral home had given me the things that couldn’t be cremated, including her wedding ring. The first thing I did when I got back to the Los Angeles compound was put it in my safe. I haven’t taken my ring off, though maybe I should. I’m not sure I want everyone else to know just yet.
As it is, I got into the compound as quietly and as unnoticed as could be, though I’m sure by now that one or more of the wolves has notified Avery that I am home. I don’t want to face anyone right now, I don’t know that I could deal with it, and the last thing I want to do is frenzy on my family.
I should have been there.
I could have saved her.
Looking back over what I have written, it doesn’t convey how much I cared about her. I don’t think words alone can express what I felt for her. For her, I would have given up everything, immortality included, if that were possible.