by Nancy Gideon
She hated the waiting, the not knowing, the not being in control.
She continued to traverse the rooms, blocking out what was foremost on her heart and mind—the awful encroaching reality of how she might have to go on without him. Or continue to live in this split life of day and night to be with him.
As dawn's pastels began to tint the jagged mountains, Stacy had to face the possibility that she had failed him. Uncertain of what changes had occurred, if any, to his body chemistry, all she knew was she'd have to find someway to get him inside the safe surround of his casket before daylight reached them. She would have to drag him, lift him...
"How long have I been asleep?"
The sound of his voice shocked through her like the snap of an electric current, startling her into a brief paralysis of body and mind. She watched him sit up, as if rising from a nap, to regard her with a mild look of question.
"Louis ... Are you all right?"
He thought a moment. “I don't know. Isn't that something you should be able to tell me?"
"How do you feel?"
He flexed his fingers, turned to place his feet upon the floor, as if both acts were new and strange to him. “Odd,” he told her. “Curious."
Prompted to resume her professional mode, she quickly tested his heart rate, finding it fast and light, but steady.
Normal.
Frustrated, she looked about. “I have nothing here to tell me the results. No microscope, no way to draw a blood sample, not even a stethoscope. I feel like a surgeon asked to perform a heart transplant with a pocket knife."
He covered her hand with his surprisingly warm one. “And you could, if you had to."
"Let's not deify me just yet.” Her tone was sharp with anxiety. How did he manage to remain so calm, so unconcerned? His detached attitude rattled more than it soothed.
"There is one way to know for sure."
Something in that casually spoken claim set off a flurry of panic inside her as she asked, “How?"
"The dawn is only moments away."
Then she understood.
"No!"
"If I survive—"
"No! It's an unnecessary risk. Tomorrow, when you awake, we'll go to the nearest clinic, or possibly I can located the equipment I need to be sure."
"But I feel awake now."
It was true. He felt none of the dragging lethargy that usually came with the approach of day. His senses were alive and tingling, yet when he tried to reach out mentally to Stacy, to reassure her along their sensory link, he found nothing. Perhaps her change had altered her ability to receive his telepathic messages.
Perhaps...
He stood, and she rose with him, her hands clutching anxiously at his sleeves. If only there were some way to calm her, to quiet the desperate anguish he saw in her lovely eyes. But this was a moment he'd prayed for and prepared for over the centuries, and he was ready.
"Let me go wash my face and then, my love, we will watch the sun rise together."
Her generous lips trembled then bowed into a faint yet amazingly brave smile. “I'll wait here for you."
He leaned forward to kiss her smooth brow, tasting the salty warmth of her skin and scenting her delightful perfume. But both seemed so faint, so far removed.
The bathroom was a hedonist's dream come true. A huge sunken tub set with corner pillars had a skylight that opened to the pale silver of the early sky. Potted palms lined the luxurious basin, making it appear like a maharaja's desert fantasy. And Louis couldn't wait to sink into scented waters with Stacy's supple form sliding against him. The impatient stirring in his loins was another surprise because there was no accompanying sense of hunger to ache along his jaw.
He was thirsty, but not for blood.
He neared the elaborately patterned sink and turned on its gold fixtures to let cool water fill his palms. The taste went down, quicksilver and curiously satisfying. Then slowly, feeling the first quivering of reluctance, he lifted his head to regard the oval mirror hanging above the basin.
"Stacy!"
She heard his cry and raced frantically to his side. She paused to see him standing before the bathroom mirror, lost in the study of his own reflection, his hand touched to his temple.
"Louis?"
His sudden laugh was an unexpected shock.
"Look,” he said excitedly. “Look what I've found."
She drew closer, puzzled by his animation, just beginning to realize the significance of his reflection in the glass. “What is it?"
He pulled a strand away from the rumpled, dark auburn locks. “A gray hair. Stacy, I have a gray hair.” And he turned to her with all the thrill of an adolescent discovering his first real whisker.
Louis Redman had just entered a new phase of life.
He was growing older. For the first time in nearly six centuries, time moved forward again.
"Oh, Louis."
Their embrace was long and fierce and when they parted, neither's cheeks were dry. He seized her hand.
"Come. There is something I must see."
Together, they ran into the adjoining room, out onto the airy menzah, where arm in arm they watched as a glorious sunrise changed the surrounding room into luscious shades of peach and lavender. Louis tipped his face toward the brightening sky, absorbing the light, the heat of the new day. The breath shuddered from him.
After a moment, he looked to the precious woman curled against his side.
"Thank you.” Those two soft-spoken words throbbed with meaning.
"I love you,” she replied.
He stroked his palms over her face, her hair and finally down her arms until their fingers met and mingled. His green eyes glittered, not from unnatural inner fire but from pure happiness.
"There is only one thing I would ask of you now, Stacy Kimball."
"You know I would give you anything."
"There is only one thing I desire. Just one simple thing that would have been impossible if not for you."
"What is that?"
He smiled.
"Grow old with me, my love."
Sinking into his kiss, Stacy whispered, “I will."
Don't Miss the Remainder of
Nancy Gideon's “Midnight” Series:
Midnight Enchantment
Midnight Gamble
Midnight Shadows
Midnight Masquerade
Midnight Crusader
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