by Roh Morgon
My affection for the mountain deepens. It seems like somehow it brought this storm for me. I feel cleansed, strong, and more like my old self than I have in a while. As thoughts of Nicolas begin to resurface, I shove them down, determined not to dwell on him. A rabbit saves me, bolting from its shelter, and I give it merry chase. We zigzag through the snow in the eternal race of prey and predator, and I thrill to the hunt. But I finally stop and let him go, reluctant to see the pure white snow sullied by the red stain of his death.
The snow is still falling when I get back and, in fact, is coming down even thicker than before. Brushing it from my clothes and stomping my feet, I walk into the house feeling refreshed and alive. I look at the clock and register the time in alarm. I’m definitely going to be late for work, if I can even get there. I turn on the radio and scan the channels for information about the storm.
“. . . Ute Pass is closed. Stay tuned . . .”
Well, that takes care of me being late. Guess being snowed in is a good excuse to miss work.
But now what am I going to do for the rest of the evening?
I pick up the cell phone to see if there are any messages, and it rings. Is Nicolas psychic on top of everything else?
“Hello!” I announce cheerfully.
“Well, that answers my question as to how your day was. I assume by your response you enjoyed yourself in the snow?” His voice is warm and inviting.
“It was amazing! I haven’t been in snow since before . . . well, anyway, in a very long time. My perspective’s a little different now, and snow is much more fascinating than it used to be. I had fun.”
“I am glad you enjoyed yourself. I only wish I had been there to enjoy it with you.”
“Me, too. I think you would’ve appreciated its beauty and watching the forest change. But it’s probably a good thing you didn’t come. The pass has closed and you would’ve been snowed in here.”
On second thought, that might’ve been pretty interesting. And somehow, scary as all hell.
“Now I regret not coming up even more.”
His disappointment-laced words send a shiver down my spine.
“So,” he continues, “I take it you are not going to work tonight. Have you given any consideration as to what you might do instead?”
“No, not yet. I just finished listening to the road conditions when you called. To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I guess I’ll have to start building a library to keep me busy on snow days.”
“You do not have any books? I find that quite surprising. You strike me as someone who is rather well-read.” His cultured voice reflects his astonishment.
“I . . . left my books behind when I moved here.”
“We will have to remedy that situation. I am sure I have some titles of interest you can borrow until you replace them with your own.”
“Thank you. That would be very nice.” I wonder what kind of collection he has. They’re probably all first editions.
“Well, now I regret even more not being able to rescue you from an evening of boredom. I will make it up to you, I promise.”
And I’m regretting not being able to be rescued.
“I’ll be fine. I have some stuff I need to get done on the computer that I’ve been putting off. This will be the perfect time to do it,” I reassure him.
“Good. Then perhaps I will see you tomorrow evening after work?”
“Uh, yeah, that would be great. I’m off after two.”
“I will be there. Good night.”
“Good night.”
április 10., kedd
The snowstorm kept me from seeing her today. All I could do was think of her. I imagined her in the forest with the snow caressing her skin as it fell, wishing it was me touching her instead. I could see her running through the white landscape, and longed to be by her side, matching her stride for stride, as lovers instinctively do.
But I can sense her fear of me, and I need to go slowly or I will frighten her off like the wild creature that she is.
And so I must wait until tomorrow, while images of her in the snow torture me—mind, body, and soul.
WEDNESDAY
CHAPTER 17
The world is silent outside my walls when I wake. I look out the window—the snow is nearly even with the window sill, and it’s still coming down. Like yesterday, there’s no wind, and the snow falls like white rain, heavier and less delicate than before.
Turning on the radio confirms my suspicions. The pass is still closed, and I’m still snowed in. Great.
I glance at the laptop but was on it most of the night working with the photos I took on my cross-country trip to Colorado. When I tired of that, it was the internet the rest of the night. I don’t think I can stand to look at that screen today. So now I’m faced with the boredom that Nicolas warned me of. And of course, that leads me to thoughts of him, thoughts I had successfully buried in snow and web surfing.
Even though I deliberately try not to look at the cell phone, it rings anyway.
I’m beginning to think he somehow implanted a chip in my head that makes me think of nothing but him, and tells him whenever I do.
Waiting a moment, I try to still the excitement that is fluttering through my veins in anticipation of his voice. I finally give in and answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello.” The warmth in it washes over me. “How are you today?”
“Fine.” I doubt I sound it, though.
“I believe I sense a damsel in distress. I assume you are once again snowbound?”
“Yeah. I was just trying to figure out what I’m going to do today.”
“I am sorry I cannot be there. Perhaps one of the coffee shops in the surrounding community is open. You could hike there for hot tea and companionship, if that is what you are missing.”
Actually, what I’m missing is him, but I hesitate to tell him that.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll look in the phone book and see what I can come up with. I was thinking about heading back out into the snow anyway, so this will just give me a destination.” I try to sound lighthearted.
“I, for one, am greatly disappointed I will not see you this evening.”
“Me, too,” I quietly admit.
He is silent for a moment.
“Yes, well, I suggest you take your walk and enjoy the snow while you can. This may possibly be our last significant storm. I would not want you to regret missing any of it by staying cooped up in the house.”
“Okay.”
“Then I will say goodbye for now. Go for a walk. I know you will feel better.”
“All right. Goodbye.” The cell goes dead, but I hold it for a moment, wishing he was still on the other end. Sure doesn’t seem to be one to chitchat on the phone.
With a big sigh, I set it on the table and grab the phone book.
None of the local coffee shops answer their phones, so I decide to do a little more research online. But it ends up being pointless, and I sit looking at the computer screen feeling frustrated. So far I have found nothing on Nicolas Ambrus.
I laugh, recalling one thing. Ambrus is Hungarian for immortal.
He’s either very arrogant or has a wry sense of humor. Or both.
Whatever his background, he’s stayed under the radar. That means he’s very careful, and has the money to be very careful.
I finally give up and close the laptop. It’s late in the afternoon and the snow is still falling. It seems to have lessened, though, so maybe the storm is coming to an end. I think about Nicolas’s advice and decide to go up the mountain to see how much has fallen since yesterday.
But first I flip on the radio—just in time to hear that the pass is still closed. I call the club, but no one answers. The city must be snowed in as well. I leave a voicemail and head into the bedroom to dress for a night in the snow.
It’s eerie up here on the mountain. The stillness is heavy, like the snow that shrouds the entire forest. The darkness is heavy, too
, weighed down by the clouds still shedding their frosty burden, though much slower than before.
The snow is as deep as I am tall in some places, but I discover that if I walk lightly and quickly, I can stay on the surface and not sink. Pretty amazing.
All of the forest creatures are bedded down, hidden, waiting for storm’s end. In utter solitude, I make my way up and across the slopes, my only companion the mountain itself.
The cell rings as I walk in the door. I shake my head and answer it.
“You have perfect timing. I just got back from the mountain.”
He laughs. “And how was it?”
“Quiet. It’s still snowing a little, but it feels like it might stop soon.”
“Yes, the weather reports indicate that the storm is finally moving out over the plains to the east. I anticipate the roads will be cleared in time for you to go to your work tomorrow.” His confidence is reassuring.
“I hope so. I don’t know if I can handle being stuck here much longer.” And not being able to see him.
“So did you find a coffee shop today?”
“No, they were all closed. I ended up on the computer most of the day. I didn’t get up the mountain until this evening.”
“I see. And did you . . . hunt tonight?” he quietly asks.
“No, I . . . don’t really need to yet. Besides, all the game has taken shelter. Nothing is stirring up there.” It feels awkward to talk about my eating habits.
“Ahh. I had not given thought to what influence the weather might have on your diet.” His tone is careful, and now I’m embarrassed.
My diet? My insecurities resurface, and I wonder again how he really feels about my choice of food.
“Well, it hasn’t been much of a problem in the past. I usually go a week or so between hunts, but can go longer if necessary.”
“Really. That is unusual. But then, there is much about you that is.”
I want to ask what the “usual” is, but I’m not sure I’m ready for the answer to that, or any related questions. I fumble for what to say next, but Nicolas beats me to it.
“I must go now. I just called to hear how you are, and I am glad you have found ways to occupy your time.” He sounds distant, as though his attention is suddenly elsewhere.
“Well, I’m doing okay, but I’m looking forward to getting out of here, even if it’s just to go to work.”
“And I am looking forward to seeing you. I trust that I can do so tomorrow evening?”
“I’m finished after two.”
“Then I wish you good night. I wish we could talk longer, but I really must go.”
“Okay. Good night.”
The phone is silent a moment before the call ends.
I wonder what might have called him away.
április 11., szerda
I have developed a strong dislike for snow, because that is what is keeping me from her. Another long day and night, and all I have is the memory of the sweet fire of her lips bathed in the pungent musk of elk’s blood.
This evening Corey caused another problem at the club. I told his sponsor that he has one more chance, and then he is done. I will not tolerate his recent behavior any longer.
The storm is to clear by morning and I am looking forward to delivering her presents. Gathering them for her has been the only thing keeping me remotely sane these last few days. I cannot wait to see her tomorrow.
THURSDAY
CHAPTER 18
I wake to the sound of birds chirping. A quick peek behind the draperies reveals a bright sun reflecting off sparkling snow. Scattered clouds still hang in the sky, but they’re slowly drifting eastward, the last remnants of the storm. Weird. Blizzard one day, bright sunshine the next.
The clock reads 11:16. I walk into the kitchen to make some tea, and the cell phone rings.
How the hell does he do that?
“Hello,” I answer, excitement racing through my veins.
“Good morning! You sound much better today. I assume you are no longer a prisoner of the storm?” His voice contains a curious mixture of anticipation and relief.
“I just woke up to birds singing and blue sky. That seems really strange after several days of constant snow.”
“Our weather is known for its abrupt changes.” The phone is silent a moment. “Did you say you just woke up?” He sounds puzzled.
“Yeah.”
“You sleep.”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“No, I do not.”
Okay, now that’s weird.
“Sunny, how many hours do you normally sleep?”
“Maybe four to five, sometimes more, sometimes less.”
“And you fall asleep with the dawn.”
“I don’t have a choice. The sun rises and I go down.”
“I see.”
Well I don’t. He doesn’t sleep? At all?
“Do not worry. Sleep is normal in one who is still relatively new to our life. It becomes unnecessary with age.”
“Oh.” I wonder just how old he really is.
“So have you made your plans for today?”
“I haven’t yet, other than going to work this evening if the pass is clear. And looking outside at the sun, I would guess the snowplows are out there right now.”
“Excellent. You will be home this afternoon?” The anticipation in his voice is back.
“Yeeaahh, until I leave for work at five o’clock or so.”
“Good. I have a gift to be delivered to you. But first I need your address. You do not mind, do you?”
My paranoia momentarily flares. As obsessed as I am with Nicolas, I don’t really know anything about him, and I’m still a little wary of him and the world he represents.
“Well . . . I don’t think anyone can get up my driveway just yet.”
“I do not think it will be a problem.”
“Uh, well, okay.” I give him the address and directions. Damn.
“You may expect the delivery around one-thirty. I think you will be pleased.”
The smugness in his voice is unmistakable.
“Well, I’ll be here,” I reply, as my curiosity wars with my concern.
“Do not worry,” he laughs. “I believe you will like it. Until then.” The phone goes quiet.
Until then? Is he delivering it personally? He’s coming here?
Frowning, I look around at my barely furnished and decorated house and move into high gear straightening and rearranging. Great. I never have visitors, other than furniture delivery guys. No doubt Nicolas is accustomed to much fancier surroundings. Embarrassment creeps over me at the thought of his visit.
I finish cleaning, then dress for the sun and head outside to shovel the sidewalks and pavement around the garage. Clearing the snow from the entire length of the driveway will take some time, though, even for someone like me.
I’m about a quarter of the way down to the highway when I hear the roar of a large truck coming up my hill. As it appears around the slight bend, I’m stunned. A snowplow? Plowing my driveway? It barely fits between the trees as it comes up the road, and I jog back to the garage to get out of its way. The truck reaches the house and manages to turn around, the operator waving as he heads back down my freshly plowed driveway.
Huh. Guess getting up my hill won’t be much of a problem after all.
I put the shovel away and head back into the house to wait for my mystery gift.
About a half hour later, another truck comes up the driveway and I step out the front door as a delivery van turns around and parks. Two guys get out, and one of them raises the rear door while the other walks over to me.
“Afternoon, ma’am. Where would you like us to put this?” He points to a tall, rectangular box being lowered on a hydraulic lift.
“What is it?” The ludicrous image of a double-wide coffin pops into my head and becomes even more vivid as I recall our conversation about my sleep habits.
“Says here it’s a bookcase. Mr. Ambrus ordered it to
be delivered to this address. This is the right place, isn’t it?” He shows me the shipping papers.
A bookcase? I breathe a sigh of relief and laugh.
“Yes, this is the right address. Come inside and we’ll find a place for it.” I take him in and, with a little rearranging, make space for it in the living room.
He goes back outside, and a few minutes later the two of them wheel the box into the house on a heavy-duty dolly. They cut the box open and move the bookcase into place.
I can barely take my eyes from it while signing the papers. The delivery guys leave, and I close the door and turn to examine the dark red wood polished to a glass finish.
It’s about seven feet tall and five feet wide, and the beautiful antique wood is covered in ornate carvings. It must be worth thousands of dollars. While I’m digesting this, a car purrs up the hill, its tires crunching the gravel and snow. I step outside in time to see the black Jaguar park and Nicolas get out. The trunk opens, and he walks back and pulls a large box from it.
“Good afternoon, Miss Sunshine!” He’s smiling over the top of the box as he nears.
“Hello. Come in.” I move back as he enters and, watching him, close the door.
Nicolas sets the box down, turns to me and, touching my face, quietly says, “I am . . . glad to see you. You have no idea how I have missed you.”
Something dark stirs in the depths of those smoky green eyes.
Caught off guard, I’m speechless, and can barely nod, returning his look.
He reaches out with one hand, then the other, and takes hold of me around the waist. Pulling me to him, he kisses me fiercely, then slowly softens. My knees go weak and my whole body ignites in flame. He gently pulls his mouth away, then touches my forehead with his lips and wraps his arms tightly around me. I’m shocked and helpless and surrender completely. He holds me for several moments, then gradually releases me, brushing my face with his fingertips as he steps back.
