Secrets of the Night Special Edition (119 page)

One wish and one person only gave him renewed optimism. When--not if--he became mortal again, he could court Stevie as a normal man, as one who loved her so much he would thrust all impediments aside to win her as his own. His wife.

Kicking a loose branch aside, he decided to return to the house, to read or watch TV, anything to get his mind off--

A stabbing pain gripped his stomach, a spasm so intense he gasped. The pain spread from his stomach down his arms and legs, pulsing, throbbing, burning, forcing him to stop and grasp an oak branch for support. Waves of dizziness washed over him. Nausea churned inside his stomach. He doubled over and fell to his knees, gagging with dry heaves, his body shaking uncontrollably. Sweat streamed down his face, dripping onto his shirt. The world spun around him.

After countless moments, he braced his hands on the ground and slowly straightened to his full height. On legs that shook like a highrise in an earthquake, he shuffled across the lawn, each step an obstacle to overcome as he made his way to the glass door. Wet, slippery fingers shook as he slid the door back and stepped inside. A pain akin to a thousand knife wounds tore at his insides, making him shiver from his head down his chest and legs, on to his feet and toes.

The stairs loomed ahead of him, a thousand miles away. With drunken resolve, he plodded across the
Florida
room until he finally reached the living room. He grasped the banister and stumbled up the stairs, one leg dragging after the other. Sharp cramps accompanied him every step of the way. Could he make it to the top? He stumbled and fell, lying across the step, screaming with anguish and frustration. After long moments, he gathered his strength and grasped the banister again, then crawled upward.

"Stevie, I need you!”  he gasped. If only she were with him now, he could endure his distress.

When his doorway came in sight, a series of convulsions wracked his body, one violent seizure after another, as though red-hot pincers tore his innards apart.

Agony slowed his steps as he toddled toward the double bed. He stretched out on the bed, moaning, groaning, tearing at his hair.

Unbearable pain. Relentless pain. Pain that touched every cell, every tissue, every organ of his body, an endless torture that nearly drove him insane. He tossed back and forth, grabbing folds of his bedspread, ripping the fabric. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dampened his pillow.

"Stevie!”

God, he prayed, please end this torment. Let me die, for I can't take it any longer.

Hour after hour, he suffered horrible misery. Stevie, he gasped. Stevie, I need you. But why would she come to you when she thinks you love someone else?

Gripping the edge of the bed, he struggled to rise. He could not bear the pain any longer. He would go outside and kill himself.

Stevie, Stevie. A persistent plea roused Stevie from a sound sleep. In drowsy confusion, she turned onto her back and gradually became wide awake. She jerked upright, her stomach tense, her heart pounding with fear. Was someone in the room? Who was calling her? She pressed her hand to her heart, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

Slowly, she sank back down, smiling at her foolishness. Only a dream. She pulled the covers up to her neck and closed her heavy-lidded eyes.

Stevie!

Galan! Wide awake, she threw the covers aside and slid out of bed. A glance at the bedside clock showed it was the middle of the night. Her fingers flew to the buttons of her pajamas, but halfway down, she hesitated. Why would Galan call her when she meant nothing to him, when he'd found someone new? She perched on the edge of the bed, shivering with the cold as she clasped and unclasped her hands.

"What should I do?”  She'd make an ass of herself if she rushed over to his house and found him in bed with his new girlfriend.

Trust your instincts, every beat of her heart told her. A strong tie bound them in spiritual understanding, a link born the night he rescued her from the dungeon and gave her his blood.

But could she trust Galan? Hope blossomed inside her, spawning so many promising possibilities. Maybe he'd never had another lover. Perhaps he'd lied only to spare her, afraid she'd never want to spend her life with a vampire.

Things are not always as they seem. She'd learned that lesson a long time ago. And maybe, just maybe, she might find that there's more than one side to every story, more than one reason why people act as they do. Time she learned to trust others.

She lit her bedside lamp. Like a rabbit on PCP, she dashed about the room to dress, finally finishing with her jeans and a bulky sweater. She stepped into her running shoes and tied the laces, then grabbed the keys from her purse and headed for Galan's place.

After racing through the deserted streets, she reached Galan's house twenty minutes later. She tried the front door--locked! Where did Galan keep the spare key? Right--under the pile of bricks at the side of the house. She hurried over and lifted one brick after another, scarcely able to see a thing while ants crawled over her hands and up her arms. Frantically, she brushed the insects away. Minutes later, she found the key, then headed for the front door.

Inside, the house lay in darkness, blinds closed, not a lamp lit. Unsure what to do, where to go, she flipped the light switch by the front door, and a pale light blinked on from a table lamp. A series of low moans from upstairs jolted her, sending her headlong in the direction of the stairs.

Panic guided her steps as she rushed past the end table that bordered the wide sofa. Galan's cries sent a chill along her arms and legs, triggering countless questions. How could a vampire suffer pain? What was the matter with Galan?

Reaching the stairway, she bounded up the steps two at a time. At the top, she located the source of the cries and rushed for the end of the hall.

"Galan!” She stood in his doorway, her eyes focusing in the dark. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she pressed her hand to the door frame, her eyes searching the room, trying to locate Galan.

"Stevie?”  Galan tossed and turned on the bed, his fingers digging into the covers.” I prayed you would come.”

She hurried to his side and knelt beside him.” What's the matter?” she cried, running her fingers across his sweaty forehead. Heat emanated from his body, like a blast of hot air from a furnace. Her breath stuck in her throat, she waited for his answer.” Tell me!” 

"An elixir,” he gasped.” A . . . a former vampire gave me . . .” He pressed his hand to his stomach and moaned--"gave me a mixture that will make me mortal again. He . . . ahhhh! He warned me it would be painful, but I . . . I had no idea . . .” He groaned, tears streaming down his face.” Don't know if it will work. Better to die.”

"No! Don't say that!” She stretched out beside him and found his body drenched in perspiration. As gently as possible, she gathered him in her arms, his head on her chest.” I'm with you now. Don't even think about dying. I couldn't take it if anything happened to you!” If he were mortal again . . . Her thoughts flew in a hundred different directions, every notion centered on Galan.

An elixir . . . God, she prayed, please let it work.

"Only you, no one else,” he murmured against her chest.” I lied when I told you . . . told you I loved another. Thought it would be . . . better for you. Can't expect you to love a . . . a vampire.” His hand gripped hers until she feared her fingers would break.

"But I do love you.” She dug a handkerchief from her jeans pocket and gently wiped his face.” I've loved you for a long time. That other man you saw me with--he's a nice guy, but he can't compare to you.” She tensed as convulsions shook his body, her sweater wet with his perspiration as she waited for the spasms to pass.” No one else for me, ever,” she said.” And even if this elixir doesn't work . . . Never mind, it will work. For sure.”

Easing away, she rose from the bed.

"Stevie!”

"Be right back. Going to get a wet washcloth.” A few minutes later, she returned and crouched beside him. She bathed his face, neck and arms, blowing on his skin to cool it.” I love you so much,” she murmured as she unbuttoned his shirt and dabbed the washcloth across his broad chest.

"And I love--"He jerked and writhed on the bed as another spasm of pain wracked him.” Oh, my God, oh my God, oh, my God!” He screamed, an inhuman sound that sent chills racing over her body.” I can't . . . can't take the pain. Let me go outside, drive a stake through my heart,” he gasped.” Then you must burn me, make sure I'm destroyed.”

"God, no!” She rose from the floor, then carefully lay beside him, drawing him into her arms again.” You're going to live, and you're going to become mortal. I won't let you kill yourself.” Tears flowed down her cheeks as broken sobs shook her body. Ashamed of her weakness, she wiped her hand across her eyes, wanting to be brave for his sake, resolved to give him courage.

"Ah, Stevie, my Stevie.”

Recalling their spiritual link, she fused her thoughts with his, giving him a glimpse of mortality, letting her strength and hope pour into him. Would this fusion work? She could only pray that it would.

She took a deep breath.” How . . . how long will this last? Do you know?” 

"He didn't say! But it's got to end soon. I can't take it any longer!”

"Oh, yes, you can! I'm here with you now, and if only I could take your pain from you, I'd suffer myself.”

"Never! I would never wish that on you.”

* * *

Hours crept past, each minute a torment. Engulfed in pain, Galan prayed as he'd never done before, prayed for an end to his torture, even if only death brought relief. In his rare moments free of misery, he settled his gaze on his beloved, grateful she was with him, her comforting presence giving him the courage to persevere. She held him in her arms, murmuring words meant to comfort.

In the early hours of the morning, long before the sun rose, his pain eased, then gradually left him. He raised up on his elbows and stared around the room, one question taunting him. Was he mortal again?

Motionless, he waited precious minutes, fearful the pangs would return. God, he prayed, please let me be human again.

"Honey?” 

"The pain,” he whispered, “it’s gone!”

She sat up to give him a close look.” What . . . what does that mean--that you're mortal again?”  She placed her hand on his chest to feel his strong heartbeat, her look full of love.” My God, are you really . . . ?”

"I . . . I don't know,” he replied, afraid to hope, to dream of what might be. He waited a few moments, his breaths coming regularly. A slow warmth--sweet, blessed, wonderful warmth! --seeped into his veins, his cells, his organs, nullifying the cold that had accompanied him for centuries. He stretched his arms and legs, hands and fingers as new life pulsed through his body. He stared at his hands and fingers, flexing them, turning them over, as if he'd never seen them before. Placing his palm on his heart, he felt its steady, even beat.

"Yes, oh yes!” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her fervently. He was mortal again!” Thank you, God,” he breathed.” Thank you.”

He sank back on the bed.” So wonderful . . . I can't believe . . .” Too soon, the soporific effects of the elixir dragged him down. He fought his drowsiness, wanting to stay awake, to revel in his new life with his loved one. His eyes finally closed, joy in every cell of his body, every beat of his heart.

"My darling Stevie,” he murmured, his voice slurring.” I love you so. . .” Then mercifully, he closed his eyes and slept.

Stevie lay sleepless long after Galan had closed his eyes, countless questions and anxieties keeping her awake. Most important, how would Galan adjust to mortal life again, after being a vampire for almost a thousand years? Who was Linette, and what connection was there between that woman and her? Galan was the link, Stevie felt sure, certain he would tell her soon enough.

A lesser problem, but still important--what about her family? Somehow, some way, she'd have to reconcile herself with her family, especially her father.

But Galan came first. With dreamy eyes, she turned to gaze at him, this wonderful man who slumbered peacefully next to her. Love for him swelled inside her, almost painful in its intensity, prompting her to push her worries aside. Nothing was impossible when they loved each other so much.

She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead.” Galan, I love you.” She could scarcely wait until he woke, when she would tell him again and again of her love.

One question still plagued her like a persistent headache.

Who was Linette?

Chapter Twenty-four

Bright sunlight flooded the room as Galan roused from a sound sleep and yawned, staring around him in awe. Sunlight! By God, it was beautiful! Warm and soothing, it flowed over his body like water. For the first time in almost a thousand years, he'd slept at night, waking up to this glorious morning. He smiled as last night came back in full force, a night he'd remember forever, one that had changed his life, that had made him alive. A time in which his beloved had shared his metamorphosis.

A cool breeze wafted through an open window, bringing the scent of rain-washed grass. Next to him, Stevie lay on her side, eyes closed, a smile on her lips, as if she were having the most wonderful dream. Of him? He studied her for silent moments, unable to remove his gaze from her, this woman he loved beyond reason, whom he would cherish until death.