Still groaning, Michael opened his eyes and looked at her. The expression of concern and gratitude mingling with the agony in the sunken, shadowed blue depths shattered her heart.
Refusing to think about it, she reached down and jerked the knife across his throat, pressing hard to slice deeply through the skin, into the muscle and blood vessels below.
His body shot up, back arching off the ground into a taut arc of sheerest agony, stretching as far as his chained hands and ankles would permit. He couldn’t scream anymore. With his throat cut, the only sound he could make was a choked gurgle.
It was by far the most horrible noise she’d ever heard.
A few seconds later, his muscles all went slack and he collapsed back to the ground. His body lay limp and sprawled as it fell. His eyes slid closed and his face emptied, all expression draining from it.
Blood poured out of the wound and ran down onto the earth. She leaned back to avoid getting spattered with it.
How long to wait? Nothing he’d said helped her judge that. Not long, though. If he wasn’t already truly dead, he would be within minutes. She dropped the knife she’d used on him and picked up the second one for herself. She positioned her arm to cut across her left wrist and realized she didn’t need to. In wrestling the shovel through the ice, she’d reopened the cut Antoine had made. She’d been so focused on Michael and what she had to do to him, she hadn’t even noticed her arm stinging or the warmth of blood running down her arm beneath the sweater.
She moved around to the other side of Michael’s body, rolled up the sleeve and held her arm out over his mouth. He didn’t react. A drop of blood fell on his face, but missed his mouth and landed on his chin. She shifted her arm and the next drop hit his lips.
They didn’t move. He made no effort to part his lips to take her offering.
Beads of sweat rolled off her temples and landed on his cheeks.
She tried again, this time using her fingers to open his mouth and then close it again over the drops of her blood. She waited, but still nothing happened.
Despair warred with disbelief. She’d waited too long, dithered too much and it had robbed him of his chance. But how could she have failed, when she’d tried so hard and prayed so fervently over it?
She let a few more drops fall onto his face, but again they produced no movement, no reaction at all.
“No,” she muttered to herself. “It can’t be. He deserves better. It’s not fair!”
With her right hand, she moved his lips, forcing them apart again. This time she forced a trickle of her blood right into his mouth. Still no result.
Maybe he needed more than just a few drops? Bracing herself against the pain, she pulled apart the lips of the wound and pressed. A stream of blood rushed out and she held his mouth open to receive it as she let it flow from her. But it produced no movement, no breath, no change in him.
She squeezed her arm to force out as much as possible, letting it drip into his mouth. He didn’t appear to swallow.
Tears made her eyes sting again and began to carve hot trails down her cheeks. They dripped on his face as well, landing on his cheek, where they mingled with the sweat of earlier.
A wave of dizziness assaulted her. She hadn’t lost that much blood, so it had to be a combination of emotional stress and exhaustion. Other than the coffee and sandwiches, she hadn’t eaten since early yesterday evening, either. All of it together made her feel faint and nauseated.
Tears poured down her face even faster as she tried to squeeze more of her blood into him, refusing to acknowledge failure. But he didn’t respond. Her tears fell on his cheeks until enough collected to run down his face and into his mouth as well.
She couldn’t stand it.
Carol put her head down on his chest and rested her bleeding arm over his face. He obviously wouldn’t be reaching down to tear her wrist or throat open and drain her.
She cried for the waste of a man who’d been extraordinary in his courage and honor. She wept for all the things he’d been denied, the opportunities he’d never have. She even, selfishly, cried for herself and the possibilities she’d lost.
Finally she either fell asleep or passed out from exhaustion.
Chapter 9
At first she thought the cold woke her. She was beginning to shiver as the chill temperatures penetrated and seeped down into her core.
Then a voice called her name, softly so as not to startle her, but demanding her attention. It sounded like…
“Michael?”
She lifted her head and raised her arm off his face. His eyes were open, watching her with a bemused expression.
“I thought… I thought you were dead.”
“I was. But a very persistent young lady refused to take death for an answer.”
She stared at him. He looked…different. The features were recognizably the same, though they seemed a bit rougher, less beautiful and more human. Still, no one would describe him as homely. The black hair remained and his eyes were a deep, rich blue, the features regular and well-shaped, jaw firm and cheekbones graceful. But his skin tone had changed dramatically from the near-dead white to a more normal pinkish with olive undertones. He still looked dramatically thin, however, like a victim of starvation. A white scar marked where she’d cut across his throat, but it looked old, as if it had been there for years.
“Oh, my God. Michael! You’re alive? I mean, really alive?”
“So it would appear. I’m lying here with the sun shining on me and not burning up. In fact, it feels remarkably wonderful, even though I’m wet and freezing. I haven’t seen or felt the sun for a hundred years.”
“It worked. I can’t believe it worked.”
“I admit I’m a bit stunned too. I expected to be dead now. I was, I think. Then I woke up again, with you on top of me.” He looked around, tried to move, and the chain clanked as it resisted his effort. “I think it’s safe to unhook these.”
Carol sniffed, wiped her eyes and stood up. She fumbled with the clamps and buckles for a few minutes before getting them all released and off him. She gave him a hand to help him to his feet. He needed it.
“Drat, I’m weak. I feel like I haven’t eaten in years.” He stopped and grinned. “I haven’t, exactly, have I?”
“Depends on how you define ‘eating’ I suppose.”
The grin went to a full-out smile. No fangs. And the glow in his eyes was a pure blue shine of joy. “A liquid diet isn’t what I call eating,” he agreed, shivering. “I need to get warmed up or I’ll catch pneumonia and undo all your good work.” He swayed as he tried to walk toward the house. Carol put an arm around his waist to help support him and they leaned on each other as they crossed the yard.
They stopped when they reached the abandoned clothes and pile of dust.
“This was Antoine?” he asked.
Carol nodded.
His smile faded as he stared at the remains. “He was a human victim once too, I suppose. I never heard how he came to be a vampire. But he chose to be a monster when he drank another man’s blood. And he did everything but force you on me. He probably would have done that too, before it was over, if—“
“If I hadn’t staked him first.”
Michael nodded. “I can’t mourn him. If he ever—“ He stopped and lifted his head.
Carol heard it then. The crunch of tires on the drive up to the house.
“We’re about to have company,” he said. “And since no one ever comes to visit me, I suspect it’s someone out looking for you.”
“Oh. Yeah, I suppose my family is probably in a panic by now. I’d better call them.”
“Let’s see what our visitors want first.”
He really was weak. She had to support him all the way into the house and finally dropped him into a chair in the living room just as the front doorbell rang.
She answered it to find two men in uniform standing there. She smiled at them.
“Ma’am, we’re from the county sheriff’s depa
rtment,” one of the two said. “Do you know anything about the car that’s partway in the ditch up at the crossroads?”
“Unfortunately, I do. That’s my car. I’m sorry I just left it there, but it was stuck and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to call for help, but my cell phone isn’t getting a signal and the phone lines here are down. I was incredibly lucky to find this place. I probably would have frozen to death out there last night if I hadn’t. Mr. Carpenter was generous enough to let me stay the night.”
“You are Miss Prescott, then?”
“Carol Prescott.”
The deputy looked at her arm. “Looks like you’re hurt.”
“Oh. Just a scratch. Klutz that I am, I knocked over a lamp and cut myself on one of the shards. But I don’t think it’s serious.”
“Still, it might be a good idea to get it looked at. Might need a couple of stitches. Should be cleaned up at least. We could take you to the emergency room while we get your car towed.”
“All right. But I think Michael needs to go as well. When I got here, he was pretty sick. He seems better now, but I get the feeling it’s been ages since he ate anything and he’s still very weak.”
“I’ll be all right.” Michael had gotten up and come to stand nearby. “Deputies,” he said. “I’m Michael Carpenter.” He shook hands with each of them.
The two men studied her host and one said, “You do look a bit…thin. Might not be a bad idea to come and get checked out too.” He turned back to Carol. “First, though, your family is pretty frantic. I’m going to radio back that we’ve found you and you’re okay. Might want to give them a call yourself.”
“I should be able to call from the hospital,” she said.
“I think service has been restored here, Ma’am,” the deputy answered.
“Oh. I haven’t tried in a bit.” She went and picked up the handset. “Yes! Give me a minute to call my family and I’ll go with you. Michael, I really think you should go too.”
He sighed and nodded.
Carol dialed her parents’ number. Her mother answered on the second ring, sounding frantic. “Hi, Mom,” she said.
“Carol! Where are you? Are you all right? We’ve been so worried. What happened to you?”
She told her mom about the wreck closing the highway, having to exit, getting lost on the back roads, skidding and ending up in the ditch, and how she sought refuge in a house near where her car was stuck. The deputies were standing right there where they could hear too. “I was very lucky,” she finished. “When I knocked on the door of this house, the owner was home and he let me spend the night. He had a fire in the fireplace and it felt soooo good after I had to get out and walk in the sleet and snow. Even though he was sick himself, he was really nice to me.”
She saw the others watching her, waiting for her to finish and shrugged. “Yes, I hope you’ll meet him too,” she told her mother. “He’s really nice. No, I’m not sure when I’ll get there. My car’s kind of messed up and I don’t know how long it will take… Well, sure, if she wants to drive up here, that would be fine. She probably should come right to the hospital. No, nothing serious. I just scratched up my arm and it might need a stitch or two. A stupid accident. You know how clumsy I am. It’s already stopped bleeding, though, so I don’t think it’s anything more than a scratch.”
Carol sighed and tried to finish the call. “I’ll see you soon, Mom. More then.” She hung up the phone. “My sister and her husband are coming to get me, but it will probably take them a couple of hours to get here.”
She collected her purse and coat, then she and Michael rode in the back of the sheriff’s deputy’s car to the small regional medical center, stopping briefly at her car so they could transfer her suitcase and the box of gifts to the deputy’s cruiser.
The hospital was empty except for a group of bored employees on Christmas morning, so they got very fast attention from the staff.
A nurse cleaned and disinfected her arm, put a few butterfly bandages on most of it and then the doctor put a few stitches in the lower part where the cut was deeper. Carol got some instructions on taking care of it and complications to watch for, but she was still finished before her sister arrived. A sheriff’s deputy came back to give her a card for the service station where they’d left her car and warned her that, given the holiday, it would probably be a few days before it could be repaired.
She asked the receptionist about Michael and the woman went to check. She returned a few minutes later, saying he was fine, just a bit dehydrated. They were giving him intravenous fluids and then they’d let him go. Did she want to go back and sit with him?
Definitely, she did.
She found him lying on a gurney in a cubicle similar to the one where they’d cleaned up her arm. He had an IV line running into his arm, but he didn’t look uncomfortable with it. In fact, he looked peaceful and content.
He glanced up as she entered. The smile that spread across his face when he saw her made her heart lurch and its beat speed up. It thrilled her to see him look like that after watching him suffer so horribly through the night. A wave of shyness stilled her brain and tongue. All she could think of to say was, “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” he answered. “Come over and have a seat.”
She perched on the single, hard chair beside the bed.
“How’s your arm?” he asked.
“It’s fine. They put in four stitches where the cut went a little deeper at one end, but it’s nothing major. You?”
“I’m fine too. Dehydrated, which is why they’re giving me fluids, but other than that the doctor said I’m in excellent health. There’s got to be some kind of weird irony there, but I haven’t figured out what it is yet.” His expression turned abruptly serious. “Carol—why? Why did you do it?”
“Would you have preferred I didn’t?”
“No. Definitely no. But I told you not to try it. It was too dangerous. And I’m a complete stranger to you. Why should you take such a risk for me?” He reached out with the arm that didn’t have the intravenous line in it and took her hand. His fingers were warm and strong and comforting as they lightly squeezed hers.
She looked down at their joined hands. “Because… Remember when you told me to go and find my hero? As you were dying? I got inside the house and started to go, and I realized that I’d already found a hero. I didn’t know if you were my hero or not, but you were by far the most heroic man I’d ever met. And mine or not, there are too few heroes in the world. We can’t afford to waste any of the ones we’ve got.”
He didn’t answer for a moment, but his fingers tightened around hers until she looked up at him again. A deep, steady light shone in his eyes.
“I don’t feel like any kind of hero, but if you say so, I’ll take it for now. If I’m a hero, you’re every bit as much a heroine. But I don’t know—” He shrugged. “By the way, how did you do it? Kurt was only guessing at the way. Was it the blood? I wonder if we can find a way to share that information. It might be useful to some others.”
“I think… I think it wasn’t just the blood and the fact that it was freely given. It took—“
A tide of noise swept down the corridor, coming toward them. Seconds later, the first head poked into the cubicle. Bodies followed it. A minute or two later, a crowd of seven people—her parents, her brother, her sister and brother-in-law and their two children had all managed to squeeze into the tiny space and wrapped her in their hugs and relieved laughter.
She introduced them to Michael and explained that he’d been her host for the night, but he’d been ill and was still recovering.
Her mother looked from Michael to her and back again, but kept her thoughts to herself. Instead she said to Michael, “You’re all by yourself on Christmas Day? Where’s your family?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much left, ma’am,” he answered.
“Well, then, we’d be honored if you’d join us for dinner, and maybe stay a day or two? You need some feeding up.�
��
Considering what she’d told him of her mother’s cooking, that might not be much of an inducement. But he accepted the offer anyway.
Later, when they were alone together for a moment, he asked her, “Earlier you said you thought it took more than just the blood to revive me.”
Carol nodded. “I think it was the mix—blood, sweat and tears. I managed to drip all three on you. I think it took all three.”
“Could be,” he admitted. “I’m grateful for all three. Carol, can I…? I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you at the door, but I didn’t dare.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. Carol had no objection to it. None at all.
About the Author
Karen McCullough is the author of more than a dozen published novels and novellas in the mystery, paranormal, romantic suspense, and fantasy genres. She’s won numerous awards, including an Eppie Award for fantasy and a Vixen Award from the Maryland Romance Writers. She’s also been a four-time Eppie finalist, as well as a finalist in the Writers of the Future, Prism, Dream Realm, Rising Star, Lories, and Scarlett Letter Awards contests. Her short fiction has appeared in several anthologies and numerous small press publications in the fantasy, science fiction, and romance genres. She invites visitors to check out her home on the web at http://www.kmccullough.com. Her backlist will soon be available in ebook form.
Other Books Available as ebooks:
A Question of Fire
Magic, Murder and Microcircuits
Shadow of a Doubt
Heart of the Night
Wizard’s Bridge
Witch’s Journey
Create Your Own Ebook Cover series
Coming Soon:
A Gift for Murder
The Night Prowlers
Blue December
Programmed for Danger
Stormtide
A Vampire's Christmas Carol Page 9
