Vampire Apocalypse - Revelations Part 22

"I don't know. Perhaps G.o.d can answer."

But her prayers of late had brought her little in the way of inspiration. She felt as if she'd been set adrift. She sat for a moment looking at her hands, uncomfortable, wishing she could simply disappear into the shadows of the cloister and haunt the place, never have to face any other world again.

"I'll go," she finally said. "It's best."

That night she gathered her things, planning to leave in the morning. There wasn't much to gather. Her robes, a triptych and a string of paternoster beads she'd been given for devotions, and the small amulet she'd worn when she came here, a memento of her mother. Her belongings were few enough to tie in a small cloth and hide in her pocket.

She took the beads back out and sat on her pallet fingering them. "Pater noster," she began, "qui es in cailis-"

Someone knocked on her door. Her praying came to a staggering halt as she looked up, startled by the sound. She'd had so few visitors since she came here that the idea of someone on the other side of the door actually frightened her for a moment.

The knock came again. Unsure, she gripped her beads and rose, opening the door.

The healer stood behind it. He looked down at her through the shadow of his cowl, and she saw sadness in his eyes.

"I heard you're leaving," he said.

"Yes. I've been asked to leave."

He hesitated, and she heard him swallow, the sound oddly loud in the silence of the room. "I wish you could stay."

She stared at him, amazed at the emotion in his voice. 157 "Why?"

His cowl shifted as he turned his head, enough that she could see his small smile. His gaze had found something on the wall behind her, avoiding her eyes. "I've been out of the company of women for a long time. It was nice to have you here."

Silence held them both for a time, he standing in the open doorway, she just in front of him, gripping the beads, unsure what to do or say. Finally he said, softly, "I know it's not appropriate, but might I come in?"

Immediately, she stepped back. "Please do."

His presence seemed to fill the small room, his height and breadth almost too much for the doorway as he ducked a little to come in. He closed the door behind him, and Vivian's breath jumped thick in her throat.

There was no place to sit, really, but he lowered himself to the floor, folding long legs under him. She sat as well, fluttery with antic.i.p.ation.

"I came only to say good-bye," he said, then paused.

Candlelight flickered on his face, fighting the deep shadows that hid his features. Still she could see little but the glint of his eyes and the hint of tortured scars. His mouth moved slightly, then he went on. "But I would ask something of you, if you would grant it to me."

"What's that?" She wanted to say, Anything. Fear stopped that word. But she owed him everything. What could he ask of her that she wouldn't be willing to give?

"Touch me."

She wasn't sure what to say. It seemed a simple thing. Her hand lifted, then a flicker of candlelight caught a ridge of white on his face, and she hesitated. "Why?"

The glint of his eyes held hers. She thought she could make out their color-dark blue, perhaps gray. Sad. He made a vague gesture toward his face. "I've been...this way...for a very long time. People look at me in fear when they see my face, but it's only scars. Nothing they could catch, nothing that could hurt them. I came here partly to get away from what my face inspires in others. Here I can hide, and touch no one. But to go without human contact, particularly the touch of a woman... 158 It's been more painful than I could have possibly imagined."

She looked at his hands, folded in his lap. The scars there were long, white, angry, winding all around his fingers and across the backs of his hands, disappearing into the sleeves of his robe. "You weren't always a monk."

"I'm not a monk now. I've taken no vows. They let me stay here because of my gift. Those in town who crossed themselves and cringed in fear when I pa.s.sed now come begging for me to heal them." His voice carried no bitterness. "But that touch is a different thing. If I could be touched out of-" He stopped.

Brave, she gave him his words. "Out of love?"

A wry smile twisted what she could see of his mouth. "Love would be too much to ask. Affection, perhaps. I'd even accept pity."

She shook her head. "You'll get none of that from me. No pity." Love didn't seem like such a difficult thing, she thought in a flash, though she barely knew him. Something about him made her feel gentle inside.

Decision made, she laid the beads aside and came to her knees. Looking up into his face, she could see past the shadows to the ravaged skin he tried to hide. Burns, she thought. Only burns could make that kind of scarring, as if parts of his face had melted, like a candle. Perhaps he had been handsome once.

The rise of his cheekbones suggested a good shape to his face, but it was hard to tell.

She hesitated not at all as she lifted her hand, slipping it inside the folds of his hood until her fingers met the roughness of his scarred skin. She traced the slickness and the harshness there, feeling the lines of brutal burning. For a moment she wanted to pull away, automatically repulsed. But another urge came stronger, and she fitted her palm against his face, feeling as much as she could through simple touch.

Thank you. She heard the words-but did he whisper, or somehow speak within her head? She moved closer, looking up into his eyes. His lids drooped half closed, the gray eyes beneath barely focused. As she drew even closer, his eyes drifted shut.

She didn't think about what she did, she only did it. His soft 159 intake of breath as she kissed him nearly jarred her back to herself, but she only pressed closer. His body, scarred as it was, was strong and solid as she pressed against him. His arms came slowly around her, as if he were slow to realize what she did.

She kissed him firmly, her hands on his face, feeling the scars that seemed even to wind inside his mouth. No one could have suffered like this and survived, she was certain.

What happened to you?

With her mouth occupied with his mouth she couldn't speak the words, but the thought floated clear and bright to the front of her awareness. And was answered.

Red fire fell from the sky, poured along the ground. Black ash filled the air as far as the eye could see. Screams rose on all sides as running feet pounded vainly, trying to escape the inevitable flow of death.

She jerked back, startled by the sudden, vivid image.

"That...happened? You burned in that?"

He nodded, his gaze sober on her face.

"You-You should have died."

"I did."

She moved back away from him, fear fluttering deep within.

It seemed distant, though, as if it belonged to another Vivian, one who had lived a long time ago. She moved away, but her hands found his and held them. "What are you?"

He smiled a little. She could see his face now, all of it, even the deep, red rivers of scars that spilled down from his forehead.

"You don't want to know."

"Should I be afraid of you?"

"Never."

He kissed her then, softly, on the forehead. "Thank you. I shall miss you."

His hands slid from hers, and he went back to the door.

Fear rose in her, but not fear of him. Fear she might never see him again. "Find me," she said as he opened the door. "Please."

He readjusted his cowl, putting his face again into impenetrable shadow. "I will." 160

SEVEN.

The Present When she woke, she realized two things. She was in her own bed, and she wasn't alone. She didn't remember making it to her house. She must have succ.u.mbed to the Sleep while Lucien was still carrying her, and he must have put her in bed.

Tucked her in. Left a night-light on, just in case.

And he was still here. A rustling sound behind her told her that. She rolled over and found him sitting at her vanity, looking through a folder full of pages covered with what looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics. Not the picture kind from the tomb walls, but the shorthand "cursive" type used by the royal scribes.

"Anything interesting?" she asked. The roughness of her voice surprised her. From crying, no doubt. Weeping herself silly. Well, she'd embarra.s.sed herself in more ways than one with him yesterday.

Strangely, though, she didn't feel embarra.s.sed. She wasn't sure how she felt, in fact. For centuries now she'd so carefully calculated every emotion that she had a hard time figuring out the spontaneous ones when they slipped by. And this one had done more than slip by. It had pounded past every safeguard she had in place. Now she had to deal with it.

He looked up and smiled gently. "Lots interesting. I can remember how to read this today, too. I had to quit on the cuneiform. It dropped out of my head at about noon yesterday."

"Do you sleep at all?"

"Sometimes." He laid the folder aside and stood, moving his chair to sit next to her bed. "Once a week, I guess. Sometimes not that much. I don't really keep track."

"You just sleep when you need it?"

He shrugged. "Or when there's nothing better to do."

She considered. "If you don't sleep, how can you dream?"

"I've had a thousand years' worth of dreams. I think my subconscious told me everything it thought I needed to know." 161 The openness on his face disconcerted her. She looked at her hands. She'd broken a nail yesterday, probably in the warehouse, scrabbling to get his clothes off. "Should I apologize?"

"Not necessarily."

"I mean-" She stopped and closed her eyes. Not only could she not look at him, it bothered her to be able to see him out of the corner of her eye. "I was angry at you for what you did to me, then I-" There was no point even trying to finish that sentence. She didn't know what to say, how to put words to the emotion that had filled her, and still lingered.

"It was fun."

Surprised, she twisted her head toward him. He was grinning, and she couldn't keep from grinning back. "Okay, whatever."

"I'm open to try it again if you like."

Now she flushed. "Maybe later."

They had work to do, though, and the hours just after midnight found them cloistered in Vivian's office, he on the computer this time, she leafing through the pages, finding bits here and there in medieval French and English that she could read.

They worked in silence for a long time, then Lucien bent his head back, rubbing his eyes.

"See?" Vivian said, smiling.

"I do. Want to trade places?"

"No. I had quite enough eyestrain last time, thank you very much."

"I guess we should take a break, then." He stood and stretched, something popping loudly in his back as he bent backwards.

She watched, enjoying the lithe movement. For a moment she considered getting naked with him for their break. It would certainly be relaxing.

He bent over the desk where she was working, sorting out a few pages she'd found illegible.

"Can you read those?"

"Maybe." He sat down and frowned at them, then turned 162 them upside down. "There we go."

"I thought we were going to take a break."

He lowered the pages. "Sure. Did you have something in mind?"

She was certain he was having the exact thought she'd had only moments before, but his face betrayed nothing. Trying in vain to fight back a blush, Vivian said, "I'd hoped we could talk."

"Oh. Well, talk, then."

She grinned. "On second thought, rub my back."

He came to his feet and took up the position, kneading her stiff shoulders. The warm energy eased up her spine, then down, until she closed her eyes and hummed with pleasure.

He seemed to have more control this time. She relaxed into the flow of warm energy, feeling the patterns as they grew and moved through her.

"I think I understand how it works," she said after a time.

"When you heal, you take a piece of the victim's life force and magnify it, then give it back."

He dug his thumbs deep into her shoulder muscles. "Yes."

"And that's why you couldn't heal Nicholas. Because he was too close to death. If you'd taken what was left of his life force, he would have died before you could heal him."

Lucien leaned back away from her. She turned, studying his inscrutable face. She felt clear-headed again, about as clear headed as she'd ever felt in her life.

"Actually," he said, "I lied about that. I could have cured him. I've gotten quite good at manipulating minuscule sparks of energy. He had enough left to work with."

"Then why did you say you couldn't?"

"Because I wanted Julian to do it. He had to learn what he could do, and what he can do is vastly different from what I can do."

"How so?"