While Noah unpacked his backpack, Madeline changed in the small bedroom. She pulled on Noah’s clean clothes: a black and purple Capilene turtleneck that zipped up the front; black pile pants, the thin, soft material somehow amazingly warm thanks to the technology of synthetic fabrics; a thick black fleece jacket with a 200 rating—darn warm. She zipped up the jacket, pulled on a clean pair of Thorlos socks, and put on her boots, which were now almost dry. She was glad she’d kept her underwear on up on the mountain. Wearing Noah’s boxers would have been a little too much. The poor guy had already given up most of his wardrobe. But by tomorrow, her jeans and shirt Noah had saved would be completely dry.
As she finished dressing, he knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she said.
Noah entered, then leaned against the doorframe. “Looking good. Want me to check that bandage? You’ve bled through it.”
“Okay.” She looked at herself in the wall mirror. Blood had seeped through the white gauze, and she pulled the bandage aside. The cut on her head looked aggravated and red, the surrounding tissue a dark blue. An image of the tree trunk hurtling toward her head flashed through her mind.
Noah picked up the small bundle of bandages and first aid tape the EMT had given her and joined her by the mirror. He tore open one of the sterile packages. He removed the gauzy patch and gently placed it on her forehead. “Can you hold this in place?”
She reached up and pressed her fingers to the pad.
Quickly he tore off several strips of white first aid tape and affixed the bandage to her skin.
“It looks a lot better already,” he said. “Does it hurt much?”
She gazed at herself in the mirror. “Not really,” she lied, her head still throbbing dully.
“Let’s eat. I’ve got some cheese and crackers … not much, but it’s the only food we’ll find around here at this hour.”
“Sounds delicious.” And it did, too. After hiking, even the simplest food always tasted incomparably good. Cold processed lunchmeat on a flabby slice of white bread became a savory dinner cooked in a French bistro.
He paused at the bedroom door and motioned her through. As she passed him, she caught an alluring scent, along with something else—some indescribable connection—electricity in her stomach diving down to her toes and back up. She glanced back as he closed the door and caught him staring at her. Quickly, he averted his eyes.
From his backpack he’d pulled a small wheel of smoked gouda and some butter crackers in a plastic bag. Rummaging through the pack again, he pulled out a pocket knife. She wondered about the other knife that lay in the pack, the strange silver spike with the elaborate sheath. The temptation to ask him grew as he unfolded a blade and set the cheese on the small wooden table.
“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “It’s the best I can do.”
“Looks terrific.”
“If I’d known I’d be entertaining a beautiful woman, I’d have brought wine and made my special pasta with mushrooms and cream sauce.” He smiled, his eye contact intense.
“Well, if any beautiful women show up, we’ll just have to let them down gently.”
He laughed, shaking his head.
Instantly she regretted saying it, but having someone call her beautiful was so rare and strange. Usually they desperately tried to avoid her, except George, thankfully. But of course Noah didn’t know about her “gift” yet.
She watched as he leaned over the table, muscular arms slicing away at the cheese, strong hand working the knife, cropped blond hair giving way to his lean, tanned neck—
“Thick or thin?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you like your slices thick or thin?”
“Either way.”
“Gosh, you’re so picky,” he said, grinning at her over his shoulder. “My clothes aren’t good enough, my cheese isn’t the right thickness. Give a guy a break once in a while.”
She laughed and walked over to the table, eager to nibble at the feast. He returned to slicing, and she peered over his shoulder longingly as he placed a slice on a broken cracker.
He turned his head slightly, inhaled. He stopped moving. “You smell good.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“It’s the scent of your skin, your breath. You smell—” he leaned forward, breathing her in, “ambrosial.”
“Ambrosial?”
“Mmmmm.”
“Isn’t that what people eat to become Greek gods?”
“Hmm …” He looked down at her, his eyes sparkling. “Let’s find out.” He leaned forward, flexing his teeth, and she grinned and took a step back.
“Noah!” She stopped a few feet away, still facing him.
“How can I find out if you run?” Closing the distance between them again, he said, “Yes, ambrosial … as in delectable, savory, delicious.” His hand found hers, and a rush of excitement tingled through her at his touch.
“Cheese?” she asked suddenly, her old fear rushing into her. She wanted this part to last—this part where he didn’t know she was a freak, where he might just be able to enjoy her company.
His eyes widened, and he leaned back. “Cheese?”
“We were about to eat cheese.”
“We were?”
“With crackers.”
“I see. Well then.” He dropped her hand. “We’ll have to do that. I suddenly feel compelled.”
He turned back to the table and continued placing the slices on the broken crackers.
“Gouda. My favorite,” she said.
He regarded her schemingly out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll have to remember that.”
They ate in silence, hunger overtaking them. Madeline felt a little strange, too, wanting to stare at Noah but afraid of what might happen if she did. Teetering on the edge of a change, she feared it and wanted to lean back from the brink. Everything that had happened since she’d come to the mountain was so startling and amazing, even considering her already unusual life.
Noah glanced up from his crackers and met her gaze briefly, the green of his eyes eerily the same color as his sweater, almost glowing with intensity. She held his gaze for what felt like a full minute, a vague buzzing inside her creating a pleasant sensation as their eyes met. Then she returned her attention to the crackers.
They finished eating in silence, but the tension between them was so thick, Madeline could feel it hanging over the table like a mounting tropical storm. As she finished, she stood up, brushing crumbs off her shirt. Noah stood up, too, staring at her. He came closer, standing before her less than a foot away. She stood her ground, fighting off her desire to flee. He studied her face, his eyes so intense she couldn’t look away.
Then he stepped closer, mere inches away, so close Madeline could feel the heat from his body. Something in his eyes was so powerful she felt her heartbeat pick up, almost as if she anticipated danger.
Noah brought his hand up and touched her shoulder, then ran it along her neck and around the back of her head, curling his fingers gently around the curve of her neck. His touch sent shivers of delight down her back. She felt him move closer, his leg against hers, then his stomach against her own. Every fiber in her being was aware of his closeness, and she relished the sensation.
He leaned down, placing his lips against her cheek, then moved gently along her jawline toward her lips. His breath was sweet and intoxicating, and she drew it in. His mouth drew closer to her lips, the slight roughness of his whiskers brushing along her skin.
He reached the corner of her mouth and kissed her there, sending waves of pleasure through her. And then he kissed her full on the lips, pressing in passionately. At last she moved, bringing her hands to his shoulders and clutching them tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, closing the distance between them, his kisses wild and unrestrained.
They went off balance, knocking a chair over, still kissing. Her hands moved over his back, pulling him closer to her. His hands moved down, cupping her butt and liftin
g her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and they fell against the wall, her tongue tasting him, kissing along his neck and salty skin. He pulled away from the wall, turned toward the bedroom, knocking a lamp over in the process.
In the ensuing darkness, she felt his fingers on her back grow sharp and wiry, felt claws piercing through her shirt.
Gasping, she pulled her head away and looked at him.
He had changed.
His eyes gleamed red, flashed in the shadows like the eyes of a night creature caught in the light.
She unwrapped her legs and jumped down, but still he held her close to him.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, and as he talked she could see all his teeth had gone sharp. “Kiss me.” And then he brought his lips to hers again and kissed her still more passionately. Her mind reeled as she tried to take everything in, feeling both afraid and still drawn to him in the same moment.
He must have felt her reluctance, for he pulled back and said, “It’s still me. I won’t hurt you. It’s just that in moments of extreme … emotion … the change comes over me.”
“What change?” she demanded, panicked. His eyes glowed fiercely now, a look of hunger gleaming there. “Noah, I—”
“I’m not like him,” Noah said.
“Who, the creature? Your eyes … you look ravenous.”
He paused, thinking. “I am. But not like you think. It’s just that being near you, the way you smell, the way we talk so easily. You’ve faced this all unflinchingly. I’ve never met someone so brave. You amaze me.” He caressed the side of her face. “I am ravenous, yes, but it’s for you. I desire you. I haven’t been drawn this way in a very long time.”
“But, Noah …” Her voice trailed off. She felt a tremble deep within her. What had she gotten herself into?
He pulled away. “Do you feel … nothing?”
“Oh, no. I feel something. Believe me, I feel something. But I don’t understand.” She pushed him away. “You … that thing … What are you?” she asked finally.
He sighed, dropping his arms. In an instant his green eyes returned, the red fading. Claws gave way to normal fingers. She couldn’t believe it. They just transformed before her eyes, the gleaming sharpness changing to soft flesh and skin. She stared at him, feeling the urge to bolt out of there. Slowly he took her hand, and she cringed at first. But his touch was so gentle, his eyes so pleading, that she let him lead her back into the main room. He slumped down into one of the wooden chairs. Sighing, he put his head in his hands. She pulled up the other chair and waited. “I’m old,” he began. “Very old.”
He fell silent then, and she wondered if he was going to continue. “What?” she finally said. “You’ve reached the ancient age of twenty-four?”
“No. Older.” He looked intently into her eyes. “I was born in 1739. In London.”
Madeline stared. “What?”
“Yes. And when I was twenty-four, something terrible happened.”
He went quiet again for a long time, and she realized how hard it was for him to talk about this. His eyes cast downward, and his brow creased. She wondered if he’d ever even spoken these words before.
He swallowed hard. “I encountered him.”
“The creature?”
Noah nodded. The rims of his eyes turned red. “But before that, before my life was torn apart, something wonderful happened.” He fell silent again.
“What?”
“I fell in love.”
She waited.
Noah’s eyes grew distant. He looked beyond Madeline, toward the window. “Anna. I first saw her at the opera. She was gazing down at the performers, her eyes bright and excited. I learned later that was her first visit to the opera house. I was immediately enchanted. My family was very wealthy and knew almost every other family of means in Vienna. I begged them to throw a ball so that I could meet her, and they agreed. On the twenty-sixth of May, she walked into my house, that same look of youth and excitement glowing on her face. I stole her dance card and wrote my name down for most of the dances, then placed it back by her fan when she wasn’t watching. She laughed when she saw the card.” Noah cast his eyes down. “I still remember her laugh so vividly.
“I courted her for two years, and when I became successful as an investor, I was ready to propose. But I wasn’t the only one. She had a slew of suitors who regularly called on her. All this time she’d been learning the pianoforte, and came to play it amazingly well. She began playing at parties and gatherings, and many people took note of her exceptional talent. One such person was a newcomer to Vienna, a wealthy entrepreneur with some distant relative who was an acquaintance of her family.
“He took an intense interest in Anna, often visiting to hear her play. I thought his interest was purely romantic at first. But as it turned out, it was far worse than that. He feeds upon exceptional people, you see. He craves new strengths and abilities and ingests his victims’ knowledge, their experiences, and then uses it to infiltrate yet another group and continue the cycle.” He clasped his hands tightly together, till his knuckles grew white. Madeline resisted the urge to comfort him. She wanted to hear the story, wanted to understand. Though at first he’d begun merely to explain to her, now she felt he was exorcising ghosts of the past.
“One night, Anna’s family was away in Salzburg and had left her behind with her brother, Gregor. He spent most of his time drinking and carousing and brought all sorts of unsavory types back to the house.
“On this night, he brought home several men to play cards with. They were all drunk. Anna was playing the piano in the sitting room. I came by to call on her. She was happily playing; her brother’s habits seldom affected her adversely, though she hated to see him drink so much. A Welshman, Ffyllon, had passed out on the settee, and Gregor asked me to carry him to one of the bedrooms. When I got back, he was standing over her while she played, and Madeline, you could feel the lust coming off him. His eyes filled with it, gleaming as he watched her play. He didn’t even see me enter. The other guests had left the room to play cards in the parlor.
“I had been watching for only a second when he began to … change. He opened his mouth, revealing a hideous row of sharp teeth, and he lunged down, sinking into her neck.
“I cried out—and that’s when he realized I was there. He tore away from her and sprang toward me on all fours, his body becoming more squat and animalistic, his skin darkening till it was completely black. Then he was on top of me, his gray eyes enlarging to red orbs that glowed fiercely. He clawed at me, raked my chest and neck like he was in a frenzy. I fought as best I could, punched and kicked, but it was useless. He had so much power! I knew he was going to kill me, and the thought was terrifying. And then above the scuffle, I heard this gut-wrenching sob. He stopped attacking me and turned to the piano. Anna had fallen from the bench and was trying to stand. Blood covered her yellow dress, staining it scarlet down the front.
“ ‘Get away from him,’ she hissed, and I’d never heard her like that before. Her eyes were narrow and threatening, her face contorted in anger and pain.
“He left me there and stalked over to her as I struggled to get to my knees. As he reached her, she lifted her hand high. Something gleamed there, but I couldn’t see what. I tried to get to my feet. And then she brought it down on the creature, driving it deeply into his neck. He screamed and bolted away from her, red eyes wide with surprise. He burst from the room and crashed through one of the French doors.
“Anna collapsed. I rushed to her side and cradled her head …” Noah’s voice cracked painfully. “I could see how bad … how bad she was hurt. I took off my cravat and pressed it tightly to the wound. ‘The metal,’ she started to say, and then she choked. Blood bubbled on her lips.” He bit the corner of his mouth. “I remember she said, ‘Oh, Noah, I wanted to marry you …’
“And then she was gone. Her eyes just went vacant. I clutched her to my chest and kissed her lips and hands, her blood in my mouth. I begged to have her bac
k, begged God, the earth, begged time itself, but still she lay there, lifeless, pale, and limp.”
Noah broke into tears, and this time Madeline did get up and put her arms around him. She held him tightly while he cried. He wrapped his arms around her. “It was so long ago, but the pain is still so fresh that the very thought of it breaks me down.” He continued to cry, and Madeline brought him closer.
After a while, Noah said from her shoulder, “It was the blood.”
Madeline’s brow wrinkled. “What?” Gently she pushed him up so she could see his face. His expression was dire, his eyes cheerless and empty.
“The blood,” he said again. “When I kissed her hand, I tasted blood. What I didn’t realize was that it was his blood—the creature’s blood. When she stabbed him, it spilled down her hand, and I had ingested it.”
“What happened?”
“At first nothing. Full of grief and obsessed with revenge, I wandered the underbelly of Vienna, trying to find someone who knew of the creature. I had one drive: to find the thing and destroy it. Polite society, save one person, ostracized me. That one person was one of Gregor’s frequent visitors to the house: Ffyllon. He knew of the creature and its weakness, a certain type of metal. It was this friend who had given Anna the metal, in the shape of a letter opener, and told her of the creature. He wasn’t specific, but at the time I got the impression he’d been following the creature for some time. He said Anna had laughed at him when he offered the letter opener for protection, but she had taken it in appreciation of his good story about a roaming, voracious creature.
“A few days later I found Ffyllon’s body, murdered by the creature. His journal was on him, and I read it. He had followed the thing to Vienna, worried that it intended to kill a musician named Anna. In his journal, he wonders if the drinks he had the night Anna was murdered were drugged. With the hunter passed out, the creature had open access to his target.”
“Did you still have the letter opener?”
“No. When she stabbed him with it, it must have stayed embedded in him when he ran off that night. Everything happened so fast—” He exhaled shakily.
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