Edge of Twilight (32 page)

A
lone.

I'd lived alone for so many centuries that I'd had enough, and so I'd decided to end it that night, and I prayed to whatever gods might exist that there was no such thing as the immortality of the soul, or that if there was, I had lost mine long ago. I had no desire to go on. Not then. Not in any form.

There remained in me, ironically, the heart of a romantic, the soul of a poet who didn't compose, only
felt.
Fitting, then, that I chose to make my last moments on this earth worthy. That is why I found myself lying on the hard, dew-dampened cliff above a thundering waterfall in the darkest hours of that long ago night.

I lay there, listening to the roar of the waterfall and tasting its mist on the air. I stared up at a moonless sky full of diamond-like stars and waited to see the sunrise for the first time in countless centuries. I wondered how high that golden orb would climb before its kiss caused my body to smolder; how long I would be allowed to gaze upon it before fire consumed my flesh and bones.

It would be painful—unbearably, maddeningly painful to a creature whose senses were as heightened as those
of a centuries-old vampire. I will not say I didn't fear the pain—I did. I waited in dread of it. And yet, I would welcome it for the sweet release of nothingness I so hoped would await me on the other side.

It had been a long life, a full one. But not a good one. Immortality had been wasted on a man like me.

I lay there, awaiting the sun, awaiting death, my back upon the cool, solid stone of the earth, my face and clothes coated in the falls' mist, my eyes filled with the stars as they faded slowly into a sky that paled from indigo to purple. It wouldn't be long now. Another hour, two at most.

The roar and rush of water was joined by the harmony of those birds that rose before dawn and began their nightly task of singing up the sun. I listened to that song as I never had before. Always it had been a warning to me. Now it was a dirge, my personal requiem. I closed my eyes and relished the symphony as I awaited death's arrival.

Then an unwelcome sound stumbled into the song—one of discord—a sour note that did not belong and that would change everything. I think I knew it, even then. It was the sound of a woman, crying.

I opened my eyes, angered at the interruption. Ruined. My beautiful, poetic exit from the world was ruined. Sitting up, I sought the source of the weeping, thinking the interloper would be fortunate if I didn't decide to take her with me on my final journey. When I saw her, I rose to my feet, my body acting of its own will.

Even at this distance I could see that she was beautiful. There was no question, not to my preternatural eyes. She stood on the opposite side of the dark cascade, on the
very edge, staring down into the rocky froth far below, and I knew that she intended to jump.

She intended to die. Just like me.

F
rom the moment my eyes fixed upon her, my awareness of my own misery faded. Her misery, instead, filled my mind. Her golden hair, long and curling, moved with every blast of wet wind that rose from the pounding falls. I willed her mind to open to mine. It wasn't difficult to read her—her emotions were bubbling over. There was pain and grief—overwhelming grief.

Why, I wondered? What could cause such pain in one so young?

Suddenly, I knew I had no time to plunder the depths of her mind in search of answers, for she inched nearer the edge, her unclothed toes curling over the side, her chin lifting even as she opened her arms to her sides like the beautiful
Cathartes Aura
drying its feathered wings in the morning sun.

I shouted, using the full power of my voice—an awesome thing in a vampire as old as I. “
Nu
!
Stai
!”

She flinched, her eyes fixing on mine across the yawning chasm. She showed no fear at the unnatural force of my command, though she had to know that voice could belong to no ordinary man. Facing me she stared, and then her eyes widened—with recognition.

I held up a hand, telling her without another word to remain where she was. She knew me—I was royalty. She must obey.

And yet, she did not. Rather, she leaned forward and fell, more than jumped, into the void. Left with no choice, I dove—and with little more than the force of my will and the wisdom of instinct—arrowed my body downward, angling toward her.

She fell slowly, her body flat, arms and legs splayed. I shot, arms and feet pointed, my body cutting through the air like a blade, even as the power of my mind tried to slow her descent and speed my own.

I had not mastered flight, though some of my kind had. I could change my form, but it took time to accomplish such a feat, and time was something I did not have. So my choice—if it could be termed a choice at all—was to break her fall with my own body.

Everything seemed to happen at half speed. I sliced through the upsurge of mists that seemed to bolster her. And then I was there, my body colliding with hers. I tried to make the impact less than crushing as I wrapped my arms around her slender frame and I turned to put my back to the earth.

For one instant her eyes, as gleaming black as pure onyx, held mine with a force I'd never felt. “Why?” she whispered.

The pain in that single word was beyond understanding, and for the life of me I could not think of an answer. I didn't know why.

Pain exploded in me then, as the river's jagged rock teeth stopped our descent all at once. Icy water enveloped me, filled my nose, mouth and lungs. Bones cracked beneath my skin and all went dark.

I knew even as I embraced it that this was not the
darkness of death. This respite was temporary—as it had been so many other times before. It was the same darkness that was my prison, my life.

I
woke to the smell of a wood fire. Conifer branches—the sizzle and snap of the pitch were unmistakable to my honed senses. Pain wracked my body. I knew then, it must still be night. I couldn't have been unconscious for long. Some time, however, had clearly passed.

I lay in the shelter of a cave, behind the face of the waterfall, and I saw a tunnel that twisted farther into the mountainside and downward, away from the cascade, which must have been the path we'd taken. The tiny fire leapt and danced a few feet from me, and my clothes were drying, slowly, on my body. She sat on the other side of the fire, gazing at me through the tongues of yellow flame.

“I thought you might be dead,” she said. Her voice was like honey with bits of the comb still caught in its depths; smooth with unaccustomed coarseness tripping it up now and again. “I am glad you're not.”

“But not so glad that you are not.”

She blinked and averted her eyes. “Not so glad of that, no.”

“Why?”

Lowering her head, she let her small shoulders slump
forward. Her dress was faded brown and plain, its neckline rounded, its fabric worn. “My entire family is gone,” she whispered. “I see no reason not to join them. There's nothing for me here.”

I nodded. “I see.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “You aren't going to argue with me? Tell me how much I have to live for, how much lies ahead for a girl of seventeen, the way all the others have done?”

“Why would I argue against seeking the solace of death when I was up there tonight planning to seek it out for myself?”

She blinked, clearly stunned by the revelation. “But you—you're the prince.”

“And I know pain. And I bleed, just as you do. No, I'll not argue with you, pretty one. I cannot even tell you why I took it upon myself to interfere with your plans. Except…”

“Except?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Except that I was so struck by your beauty, I couldn't help myself. It was pure selfishness on my part. For one brief instant, when I looked at you on that precipice, I thought I glimpsed…” I drew a breath and plunged on. For what difference did it make now, whether I spoke honestly or falsely for the sake of manners or pride? “I thought I glimpsed a reason to live for perhaps one more night.”

“That reason being—to save me?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Not to save you. To
know
you. To speak to you. To share my pain with someone who might understand it.” I lowered my head. “I told you. Entirely selfish. I'm sorry if I have prolonged your suffering by my thoughtless intrusion.”

She studied me for a long moment, and finally lowered
her eyes and whispered, “I can die as easily tomorrow as tonight, I suppose. Tell me about your pain.”

I stared back at her. The flames sizzled and popped. And I heard myself whisper, “Perhaps I will. But there is this first. What I tell you here, in this cave has never been told to another soul. It can never leave this place.”

She shrugged. I don't intend to ever leave this place, my prince. I will take your secrets to my grave.

“S
o tell me,” she whispered. “How is it you speak in a voice louder than the waterfall? And how is it you flew through the mists to save me as surely as a hawk swooping upon a snake in the meadow?”

“How do you think?” I asked. “I can see you have some notion. Have you been listening to the villagers and their gossip about me?”

She smiled, not a smile of joy, but one of bitterness. “One cannot live among the gossips and not hear their tales. They say you've sold your soul to the devil and made yourself immortal. They say the king isn't even your true father, but rather some distant descendant of yours, passing you off as his son to help keep your secret.” She fixed her eyes upon his mouth. “They say you drink the blood of virgins to remain ever young.”

For the first time I saw a light in her eyes. A light of excitement, of danger. She was reckless, this one. “And what do
you
say?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I say if this were true, why would you be so eager for death? I say if this were true, you would not be lying here in pain right now.”

I shrugged. “It's true, I am in pain. But I will sleep
during the daylight hours, and when I wake at sundown, I will be completely healed.”

Her eyes widened.

“Or, I could heal much faster. Right now, in fact, with just a sip of your virgin's blood.”

Her smile died slowly. “You're trying to frighten me. You can't, you know. If you wish to take my blood, take it. Drain me and leave me dead. I don't care.”

“I wouldn't leave you dead, my beauty. Only gasping with pleasure. And perhaps no longer so virginal.”

Her eyes were dark and fiery as she surged to her feet and came around the fire. She knelt in front of me, and tore the neckline of her dress open, baring her neck and her breasts. “Do not take me for an ignorant little fool,” she said. “If it's my virginity you want, you've no need to resort to horror stories. I'd just as soon know a man before I die.”

I stared at her. Her breasts, round and firm with youth. Her beauty and vitality overwhelmed me, and the hunger that gnawed at me night after night rose up like a beast and demanded sustenance.

I sat up slowly, and the hunger overshadowed even the pain that movement caused. I reached for her, clasped her nape in my hand, and drew her closer. With my lips, I traced a path along her jawline from her chin, to her neck, to her collarbone, to her breasts, giving my full attention to them until the girl was breathless and arching in pleasure.

Then I slid my mouth upward again, to her neck, her delicious, salty neck. I parted my lips and suckled the skin there, feeling the rush of blood in her jugular as surely as I could feel the pounding of the waterfall outside our cave.

Cupping her head, tugging it backward just enough, I
bit down. And when my fangs pierced the vein and her blood rushed over my tongue, I felt everything she felt—including the climax that rocked her body.

T
hat mere sip of her blood hit me as a bolt of lightning would have. So ferocious was its power, that I dropped the woman and stumbled backward, falling onto my haunches, breathless and stunned. Only belatedly did I realize that she lay there, still, on the cold stone, her hair spread around her like a puddle of golden silk.

Scrambling to my feet, my nerves still tingling and snapping with whatever power lurked within her blood, I hurried back to her, knelt over her, and lifted her from the floor. Her hair fell like a curtain, but I saw no blood, felt no lump on her head.

“Wake up, pretty one. Wake up.”

Her brows furrowed into a tight little frown, and then she blinked and squinted at me as if I were a light that hurt her eyes. But the only light in the cave came from the fire beside us.

“What…happened?”

“You don't remember?”

Screwing her face in concentration, she nodded. “Ah, yes. You tried to frighten me with silly
vukodlak
tales. And then you kissed me.” As she said it she lifted a hand to touch her neck, where the skin was no doubt tender.

“Did you faint from fear? Or desire?” I asked, wondering if she had felt the power when her blood melded with my own. Had she forgotten it, in her swoon? Or was she only denying the memory because she did not understand it?

“I faint at any overabundance of excitement,” she said, lowering her head. “I used to be so strong. So very strong. I could outrun and outclimb most of the boys in the village when I was growing up. I could outfight most of them, too.”

I couldn't help but smile. “I don't doubt it.”

“You should. I'm as worn out as an old woman now.”

It was a shame. And yet, I was beginning to understand why I'd been so compelled to save her—even when doing so would thwart my own plans—and to see the powerful impact from a mere taste of her blood.

I had to know for sure.

“Are you ill?” I asked. “You said all your family had died. Is it the same sickness that took them?”

“I'm ill, yes. But not with the plague that took my family. It was swift and sudden, taking them with a ferocity unlike anything I'd seen.”

I nodded. I'd seen the ravages of the plague that had been sweeping the outlying villages. Its victims were stricken down with raging fevers, hacking coughs that threatened to tear out their lungs. Within a few days they either improved or died. It was fast and merciless.

“It took my mother first, leaving no one but me to care for the others when they fell ill. My father. My brothers. My baby sister. She was only two.”

I lowered my head, feeling her pain. Feeling
her
, more than I had before. There was a connection between
us; I knew it now. And that tiny sip of her blood had strengthened it still more.

She was like me. She was one of
The Chosen.