by Roh Morgon
The burn doesn’t look as bad as it feels. Bending over the sink, I splash water on my face several times. The pink starts to fade and the burning sensation lessens to a tingle.
I wait a few more moments, take a deep breath, and go back out into the lobby area. Nicolas is right outside the door. He gently grasps my shoulders as he examines my face, then sliding his hands down, takes my wrists to look at the back of my hands.
“This has happened before?” he asks.
“Yes. Anytime my skin is exposed to the direct sun.” I look at him, wondering why he doesn’t seem to be affected in the same way.
“I see. Well, Sunny, I must say that you have a most ironic name.” His amused smile is softer than usual, with a trace of sympathy.
“I’ve frequently thought so myself.” I get the hat and gloves out of my bag, and as I put them on, ask, “Why is it you don’t burn?”
His answering smile is serious now. “I assume you have many questions, as do I.” He glances at the scattered tourists wandering past us. “But we will save that discussion for another time.”
I nod in agreement, wondering when—and where—that discussion might happen.
We walk back to the front door. Nicolas looks me over, tugging my hat down a little on one side, and touches my now pale cheek.
“We do not want to damage that beautiful porcelain skin.” Smiling, he pushes open the door and holds it for me.
If I could blush, it would definitely be turning pink again.
We walk back down the street in the direction of the parking garage and stop in several small galleries and shops along the way, laughing and making idle conversation. The rest of the day passes quickly and, too soon, we are at my car.
“My dear, I have had a delightful afternoon with you. We should do this another time. But I think we will wait for a cloudier day.” His expression is sober, but the amusement is dancing in his green eyes.
“Well, I’m usually more careful about being covered when the sun is out. I guess I was a little distracted when we walked outside.” I shrug, embarrassed by my stupidity.
“Then I must apologize.” His mouth quirks. “I will make an effort to avoid distracting you in the future.”
That’s impossible. His very existence is distracting me.
“And speaking of the future, when can we get together again?” he asks.
A little dazed by his continued interest, I try not to stutter my answer.
“I have both Sunday and Monday nights off.”
“Indeed.” He purses his lips. “Do you like the opera? There is a small theater here that has a performance Sunday evening.”
“I . . . I would love to go. I’ve never been to an opera.”
“Wonderful! The performance starts at seven. Shall we meet at our little coffee shop at, say, six? We can have a cup of tea and then drive over in my car, if you would like.”
Our little coffee shop?
“Uh, that would be fine. I’ll meet you there at six on Sunday.” I smile, feeling even more off balance.
“Then it is settled. And now, my dear, I must let you go or you will be late for your work,” he says warmly.
“Oh, you’re right.” I glance at my watch. “Thank you for giving me such a wonderful tour of the city. I really enjoyed this afternoon, in spite of the sun. I can’t recall when I’ve had such a nice time.”
“And I, as well. I hope your work is satisfying tonight. I look forward to seeing you on Sunday.” He nods as he turns from me.
And then he just walks away. No disappearing act this time.
Good, cuz it kinda spooks me.
I drive home after my shift, thinking about this afternoon. What an unbelievable day. I haven’t been able to be so relaxed with someone since this whole nightmare of a life started. To be able to be myself and not have to worry about my secret and what I am. I think of his charm, his humor, his kindness, and how easy it is to be with him, and I realize I might be in trouble. I feel so drawn to him that it scares me. He scares me. There is something powerful lurking beneath that polished surface, and I’m not sure I want to know what it is.
But I think I’m going find out.
április 6., péntek
I spent the day with the Sun, in the form of an innocent Chosen who is not all she appears to be.
Her reaction to the sunlight when we stepped outside of the museum was not that of a mature Chosen who can move about during the day. Rather, her skin burned like that of a newborn, and she appeared to be in some distress and pain from it.
I truly do not know what to make of this.
And when we touched, the instant heat that flared in my blood caught me by complete surprise. I am inexplicably drawn to her in a way I have not felt in a very long time, and am greatly puzzled by the sense of familiarity I feel when with her.
I am now most curious about her and wait impatiently for our next rendezvous.
SUNDAY
CHAPTER 13
When I arrive at the coffee shop, he’s already there, waiting for me at the back booth. He stands as I approach, saying, “My, but you do look lovely this evening. How are you?”
“Thank you. I’m well,” I lie.
The past couple of days have been beyond difficult as I have thought of nothing but Nicolas. I’ve spent the last two nights running the mountain until dawn, staying out as late as I dare. The days have been worse. I’m not sleeping as long, so I’ve ended up driving throughout half the state, looking for new hunting areas and trying to keep myself occupied.
Nicolas orders tea from the waitress and tells me a little of what to expect at the opera. I listen, drinking in his words, while part of me wonders what this power is that he seems to have over me. I watch his face, the way his eyes light up, the curve of his lip, strong and soft at the same time.
“Sunny?”
“What?”
“I asked if you were ready to go.” He looks at me, eyebrows arched.
“Oh, yes. Sorry.” Embarrassment tugs at my face before I can hide it.
The corners of his mouth twitch and Nicolas stands, his green eyes laughing. He offers his hand and I rise, and once again my skin tingles at his touch. He studies me, looking thoughtful as he drapes my long coat over my shoulders. Thankfully it’s late enough in the evening that I don’t need my hat or gloves.
We walk to the parking level where I normally park. A few rows over from my BMW is a handsome black Jaguar sedan, fairly new. I smile at the emblem of the leaping cat. Yeah, that looks like what he would drive.
Nicolas helps me into his car, its interior masculine and immaculate, like him. I breathe in the smell of him, complemented by the scent of rich leather, and another part of me crumbles.
He tells me a little about the part of downtown that we are passing through. There is so much history in this area, and I pay close attention, determined not to be caught daydreaming again.
The opera is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. For a little while I’m able to focus more on it and less on Nicolas, although I never lose the awareness I have of him by my side. He seems to enjoy my absorption in the performance as much as he does the opera itself.
“Well,” he says as we are pulling out of the parking lot. “What did you think of it?”
“It was amazing. I never realized what beautiful instruments human voices could be.”
“Humans do have many fine talents.” But there is an odd tone to his voice, and I’m not sure what it means.
We park next to my car and he helps me out of the Jag.
“I must say, I do enjoy spending time with you, Sunny. I had a very pleasant evening, and I hope you did as well.” He smiles and continues to hold my hand as he walks me to my car.
“Oh, I did. Thank you for introducing me to the opera, and to this city. I’m afraid I would have missed out on an important part of the area without your company.” I doubt I would have been interested without it.
“Ah, well, there is much more that I would li
ke to show you.” His look is, as usual, a little amused, but a little mysterious as well.
“Actually, I think it’s my turn to show you. You were curious about where I ‘obtain my sustenance’ when we first met. Are you still?” Though I’ve been planning to ask him along on a hunt, I instantly regret my decision to do so now.
Too late to take it back. But it’s best to make it clear what I feed on, before we get in any deeper. It would certainly be exhilarating to hunt with another of my kind—if he’ll participate, that is.
“Yes. Yes, I am. Very much so,” he replies. His expression shifts, becoming more intense.
“I could even give you a little tour of the mountain area. How does tomorrow evening sound?” I ask, part of me hoping he will say no.
“That would be perfect. Where would you like to meet?” He listens as I give him directions to one of the lakes north of Cascade.
“I thank you, Sunny, for spending the evening with me. I am looking forward to our meeting tomorrow.” He smiles, but his eyes still shine with intensity.
“Well, thank you again for the opera. And, uh, tomorrow? Wear your running shoes.” I give him a slightly wicked smile.
He raises his eyebrows. “Running shoes. Hmm. All right, I will.”
As I’m driving home, I reflect on the evening and how it ended. I’m so stupid sometimes.
I’m more than a little concerned that I invited him to go hunting with me so soon. I don’t know why I did that. We’ve only spent a short time together and I should have waited until I knew him better. I’m pretty sure venison, or anything like it, is not on his menu. I haven’t detected any blood but that of human on his breath. And part of me is petrified of that.
But the other part of me worries what he thinks about the blood on my breath. Does he know it’s not human? He said he couldn’t place my scent.
Crap. Even worse—what if he thinks I’m an animal because that’s what I hunt? I have trouble imagining him, with his cultured sophistication, bringing down a deer or an elk and feeding on it. What’s he going to think of me, my face smeared with animal blood?
If he does hunt, what will it be like to hunt with another of my kind? If we even are the same kind. I’m beginning to suspect we are not as alike as I had first imagined.
My thoughts jumbled, I realize I’m way out of my element. I have no idea what proper protocol might be when hunting with another. I don’t know if there are rules, or consequences for breaking them, but I’m sure he does.
At least I had the presence of mind to choose a hunting area well away from my home and my mountain. The lake we’re meeting at is one of several I scouted the first couple of days here, and there shouldn’t be any trouble finding game. Who knows, maybe he’ll like it. Or not.
I spin my tires up the driveway, yank the key from the ignition, and stalk into the house. The jittery agitation building in me feels like the worst-imaginable caffeine overload. I start to open my laptop, then slam the lid down. A hot shower doesn’t even sound good. To hell with it, even though I just fed last night, there’s only one thing that will calm me down. I quickly change my clothes and head up the mountain.
április 8., vasámap
I am quite taken with this blue-eyed beauty. Her shy innocence and charm are so fresh, so humanlike, that I have trouble remembering she is a Chosen. I do not believe I have ever encountered anyone, of either species, who is so enchanting.
And the touch of her skin, the warmth it brings—is extraordinary.
She has invited me to accompany her tomorrow, and I am most curious as to what I will witness. My initial suspicion that she does not feed on humans seems to be substantiated by the fact that I have not yet detected any trace of human blood beneath her exotic aroma.
She asked me to wear running shoes, of all things. Tomorrow we shall see what manner of Chosen this creature truly is.
MONDAY
CHAPTER 14
About a mile up the dirt road that leads to the lake, I pull into a turnout. He is not here yet, and I wait, anxious, wondering if he decided not to show, or if my directions were bad, or if he’s just not here yet. My mind has been a whirlwind these last few days, with thoughts of Nicolas and all my conflicting emotions spinning relentlessly through my head.
Car lights approach from behind me and I hold my breath, waiting. The Jaguar pulls off the road and parks. I breathe a small sigh of relief and get out.
He is dressed as I am, sweater and jeans in dark colors, and is wearing black running shoes. I smile in greeting and teasingly comment, “Well, you do own a pair of running shoes. Or did you have to buy them especially for tonight?”
He chuckles and looks down at them, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “I suppose they do look brand new. We will just have to break them in.”
My quiet laugh triggers one from him, then he takes my hand and asks, “And how have you been since I last saw you?”
“Busy,” I reply. Busy going crazy over him. “And you?”
“Ah, I have been a bit . . . preoccupied.” He doesn’t elaborate, but he looks at me intensely.
Hmm, thinking about me? I can only hope. Or not. He still scares the hell out of me.
“Well, then, are you ready?” I ask. He nods, and together we set out up the road, bathed in shadow from the towering pines.
The moon is half full tonight and its light shines through a break in the trees up ahead. We step into the bright patch on the road, and I glance at Nicolas and stop in amazement. His pale, perfect face and hands are almost glowing in the moonlight, like the snow that still dots the landscape. I look down at my own hands. I guess they do as well.
“The moonlight does you great honor. You really are quite beautiful. Perhaps you should change your name from Sunny to Luna,” he says quietly, smiling.
I laugh and beckon him on. As we step into the shadows, I veer off the road and into the trees.
Laughing again, I break into a run. I can feel him racing along behind, leaping over the fallen branches and rocks that dot the forest floor. I jump onto a boulder and look back, smiling as he clears a downed tree, then launch myself across a small stream. Running and ducking tree limbs, we burst through a small opening in the forest, and laughing wildly, I come to an abrupt stop.
“So, how’re those new shoes working out?” I ask, grinning as I turn to look at him.
Nicolas doesn’t answer. His eyes are feral, tinged with red, his expression intense and savage. He looks at me strangely, then seems to come back to himself. He takes a breath.
“Well enough. So far they are holding up, but I am not sure they were designed for this.” He’s still serious, though. His normal amusement seems to be buried beneath that something else that lies within him.
Perhaps we better get down to the business of hunting.
I start off across the meadow at a walk, shifting my attention to the surrounding forest. He follows quietly, but I can feel him watching me as I start casting about the air for scent.
We climb up a small slope, and I pause at the top, inhaling the breezes that are swirling around it. I catch a faint hint, glance at Nicolas, and head off down the hill. We slip through the trees, my silent partner and I, and the scent grows stronger.
Moonlight is breaking through the pines up ahead. We slow, creeping along without a sound. As we approach the small clearing, I see three bull elk grazing by a beaver pond. Like the elk from last week, their antlers have just started growing. Soft and covered in velvet, they are only four to five inches long and shouldn’t get in the way.
I melt back into the trees, Nicolas following.
“I’m going to work my way around to the other side of the clearing,” I whisper. “When you sense me near the big log, walk straight out toward them. If they start angling to the left of the pond, you need to move quickly in that direction. That will force them to veer around to my side.”
He nods, eyes blazing. We steal back to the edge of the trees, and I point out where he should move and whe
re I will be. I leave him and circle the meadow, gliding quietly through the woods, then stop at a point about three yards behind the log and crouch, waiting for him to make his move.
I can see the elk, still near their original positions.
And then I see Nicolas. He once again reminds me of a big cat, a panther perhaps. I catch my breath in admiration as he saunters out from the trees with steely grace. The elk startle, and with steaming breath and heads held high, begin trotting toward the pond. They drift to the left, and Nicolas sprints forward, cutting them off. They then swerve, their hooves pounding the ground as they gallop in my direction. He stops and they slow back to a trot, heads turned to watch him.
As they start to pass me, I spring onto the log and launch high at the right side of the nearest one, wrapping my arms around the base of his neck as I slam onto him. He grunts loudly and staggers. I hook my heel into his left flank and dig my hand deep into the flesh in front of his shoulder. Reaching up with my right, I grab his throat just below the jaw, and squeeze. His thick flesh and coat give way to my sharp grasp and his windpipe begins to collapse.
Bucking and lunging, he wheezes as he tries to dislodge me. I grip tighter, crushing his airway in a spray of blood, then sharply yank his neck to the right. He crashes to the earth, gasping in vain, and I scramble to the safety of his back as his deadly hooves start raking the ground. I pull his neck around even farther, and reaching over with my other hand, grab his muzzle and jerk hard toward my shoulder. His neck breaks with an audible snap and he goes limp.
Shifting, I sink my teeth into his ragged throat and begin taking his blood as it pumps out from his still beating heart, my mind quickly lost in its hot embrace.
Awareness of Nicolas standing next to me breaks through my feeding fog. In a moment of coherence, I force myself to break away and invite him in. He slowly shakes his head and gestures for me to continue. I’m too immersed in the song of the blood to insist. Returning to the glistening red maw that was once a throat, I drink until the last spark of life flares out.
