The Shadow and the Rose

by Amanda DeWees

  Chapter 21

  No word had come by Monday. She had told William and Tasha about the success of their plan, and had updated Maddie as to the latest developments. Even she, Tanner’s severest critic, was concerned for him by now.

  Joy was on edge, not knowing when to expect to hear from him; whether he’d call, or get in touch another way. When she checked her box at the campus post office after lunch, she knew not to expect anything—there wouldn’t have been time for anything sent through the mail to reach her—but she nevertheless felt a moment of startled expectancy when she saw a blank envelope in her box.

  “What is it?” asked Clark, who had no moral qualms about looking over her shoulder. “Is it from him?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Well, open it!” ordered Maddie, as shamelessly as Clark.

  “I am.” She slid a finger under the flap. There was no letter inside, and at first she thought the envelope was empty. Then she upended it, and something fell to the floor. When she stooped to retrieve it she realized it was her debit card.

  Comprehension took a second to set in, and then the dismay was so great she could have cried.

  “Why would he send—oh, no. It was Melisande, wasn’t it? She must have found him.” Maddie sounded a long way away. “God, that sucks. What are you going to do?”

  Joy slipped the card into her pocket and crumpled the envelope. “I don’t know,” she said tiredly. “I can’t think right now. I’m going back to the dorm.”

  “But what about English?” asked Clark.

  “I don’t care. I’m not going.” She just wanted to curl up in a little ball and not think or feel anything. “Tell Mr. Berenger I’m sick.”

  The dorm was quiet; everyone else was in class. She encountered no one as she trudged through the lobby, up the stairs, and to her room. She opened the door gratefully, relieved to be alone—

  But she wasn’t alone. Inside, Melisande was waiting for her.

  She was sitting on Joy’s bed, where she had spread her overcoat out over the comforter as if protecting herself from the contamination of its touch. She was wearing luminous white, as usual: this time a short, clingy knit dress that showed off her superb figure. Her beauty made the rest of the room seem drab. “I think it’s time,” she said, “that we had a little chat.”

  Joy swallowed hard. Melisande was smiling, but malice rolled off of her like mist from dry ice. Carefully, Joy sat down across from her on Maddie’s bed. “I assume this is about Tanner,” she said. No point in pretending she didn’t know.

  “Naturally.” Her silky voice was matter-of-fact. “I have to say I don’t take kindly to your interference. It was extremely irresponsible of you to encourage him to run off.”

  “How did you find him?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Do you have a tracker hidden in his bike? Or did your goons just sweep the neighborhood until they found him?”

  That received a pitying look. “I didn’t have to find him. He came back to me of his own free will.”

  “He wouldn’t!”

  A gentle smile. “He would and did.”

  Depression settled over Joy like a blanket of lead. It was useless to fight this woman; there was no way they could win against her. Maybe that was why Tanner had gone back to her. Or maybe that misplaced chivalry had made him turn back—to prevent Melisande from taking his absence out on Joy.

  Why didn’t I go with him? she thought miserably. He had said he needed her strength, and yet she had sent him away alone...

  But Melisande might not even be telling the truth. Maybe she was just trying to make Joy give up on him.

  The crystalline voice of the vision in white broke into her fevered thoughts. “I haven’t objected to your liaison before now because I knew he’d tire of you. You can’t think you’re the first such distraction to appear during his time with me. But he always comes back to me. He always will.”

  “Only because you have power on your side,” Joy returned, trying to keep her voice as calm as Melisande’s. “He doesn’t stay with you because he wants to. You must know he doesn’t love you anymore.”

  The sea-green eyes narrowed slightly. “Unless you’ve been a fly on my bedroom wall for the past two years, I don’t think you’re in any position to say what Tristan feels for me.” She let her full meaning sink in, and then continued: “In any case, the real question is whether whatever he feels for you is stronger than his desire for me. Look at the two of us.” She spread her hands in a gesture that took in Joy, plump with baby weight, and herself, supple and slender. “Which one of us do you think he truly desires?”

  “He does desire me,” she said. She knew she was rising to the bait, but she couldn’t help herself. “In fact, we’re lovers.”

  A reproachful look came into the smooth white face.

  “You may be a momentary novelty, but that’s all.” Her eyes raked Joy’s body. “You’re a child still. I’m skilled in more ways of loving than there are hairs on your head. When he has sated this passing fancy, I think we both know what his choice will be.”

  Joy realized she was shivering. No wonder, with this human—no, inhuman—iceberg sitting across from her. She decided to take the plunge. “If you’re what I think you are, you need a willing victim. That means he’s no good to you. Let him go.”

  Melisande shook her head, making her waterfall of hair shimmer. “You’re straining my patience, little girl. Tristan is willing to do whatever I ask of him. One touch from me, and I become his whole world.”

  “You only need him for the youth he can give you. But I love him.” She had given up trying to match her rival’s poise; her voice shook with emotion. “Doesn’t that make a difference? You could have any guy you want. It doesn’t have to be Tanner.”

  “Oh, but he’s a rare soul, is Tristan.” A faint gleam of excitement animated her face. “There’s so much passion and conflict in him, more even than in most men his age. He is a remarkable specimen.”

  “He’s not a specimen. He’s a person, with his own life to live.” Then an idea came to her that gave her renewed strength. “If you’re so certain he’ll choose you over me, why are you even here? If you were sure I’m not a threat, you wouldn’t have come to try to intimidate me.” Ha! Got you there, you harpy.

  Melisande’s eyes were hard as glass. “How dare you presume that you know my motives,” she hissed. “I came here not because you pose any threat to me, but because you are a persistent irritation, like a pebble in my shoe. I have been patient, but I am no longer inclined to be so.” Her lips curved in a thin smile. “I have come to rid myself of the pebble,” she said.

  Joy went for bravado. “That’s all you’ve got?” she demanded. “That’s your idea of intimidation? Lady, I don’t know what kind of people you’re used to dealing with, but I don’t scare that easy. I don’t care that you’re a big celebrity. You can’t hurt me.”

  “Oh, but I can.” Melisande’s eyes glittered, and for just an instant the green irises shifted to reveal utter darkness behind them, vast and empty, as if her eyes were windows into an endless abyss. A void that was the absence of a soul. “You have no idea what I’m capable of,” she whispered, and the cold of pure horror poured through Joy.

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she forced out the words. “Are you a vampire?”

  Again the black nothingness looked out from behind her eyes. “Idiot girl. Nothing so common.”

  “What, then?”

  Melisande leaned forward, her empty eyes fixed on Joy’s fearful ones, and whispered to her for what seemed like a long time. Paralyzed like a rabbit by a snake, Joy listened as the creature made herself known. Outside, dusk fell and a shrill wind flung dried leaves against the windows, but the soft voice spoke on.

  Long after Melisande had vanished—and Joy, her senses dulled, was not aware of when or how she left—the whispered words stayed with her, imprinted on her.

  I was born of blood and earth, she had said. Beasts were slai
n and wine poured out on altars for me.

  I arose from the sweat of greed, of men tormented by ambition.

  I took form from the longing of men half mad with lust. Their desire branded itself into the earth and molded my body.

  I do not age. I do not decay. I am as eternal as desire itself.

  As long as there are acolytes to worship me, I shall endure.

  As long as there are men to empty their essence and their hearts into me, I shall endure.

  Fear me, child. Fear me.

  Nausea twisted Joy’s stomach. She lurched to her feet, stiff and clumsy from sitting immobile so long, and managed to make it to the bathroom before she threw up.