He stood on the balcony, his hands braced on the wrought-iron rail, watching the dark clouds tumble across the sky. It was going to rain. He could smell the moisture in the air, hear the distant sound of thunder as the storm drew closer.
It was a night that suited his mood perfectly - dark and restless.
He had lost her and found her and lost her again.
He cursed viciously for not forcing the Dark Gift upon her. She might have despised him for it, but she would have been his. Forever his. He wouldn't have to watch her grow old and die a second time...
Three weeks had passed since he had gone to her house. Ten days since he had last fed. Without her, he'd lost the will to go on, but the hunger burned bright within him, sharp as a Spanish dagger, as constant as the sun. He could feel his body weakening, feel his mind growing dim. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. And tomorrow it would all be over.
He wondered dispassionately how long it would take for him to die, if his body would burst into flame at the first fiery touch of the midday sun, or if he would writhe in agony like a worm on a hot rock. And what of his soul, if he still had one? Would it find rest at last? Or would it burn forever in the inferno of an endless and unforgiving hell?
But even the thought of spending eternity in the bowels of perdition didn't frighten him now because he was already on fire, his insides burning as the hunger raged relentlessly through his body, tearing at his insides with talons of flame.
A last meal, he thought dully. Weren't the condemned entitled to a last meal?
"Gabriel?"
He whirled around, startled by the sound of her voice.
"I knocked," Sarah said, and then, seeing his face, she took a step backward, one hand pressed to the back of his chair to steady herself. She didn't have to ask what was wrong. She knew. She had seen him like this once before, in the cellar of an abandoned cottage.
"Go away." He spoke the words through tightly clenched teeth.
Sarah nodded, intending to do just that, but her feet refused to obey and she stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear her gaze from his face. He wore a black sweater that emphasized the pallor of his skin. His eyes burned with a familiar red glow. His nostrils flared, like those of a wolf on the scent of blood...
"Go... away... now."
"It seems as if you're always trying to get rid of me."
He stared at her, trying to understand what she was saying, but the scent of her blood was overpowering, making it difficult to think of anything but the hunger roaring through him, growing stronger with each passing minute.
"You were lucky the last time," he said, his voice dry and brittle. "I cannot promise you will be so lucky now." He took a deep breath, willing his hands to stop shaking. "Why did you come here?"
"We need to talk."
"Talk?" He shook his head. "About what?"
"About us, about what we're going to do."
"There is no us. Go away, Sarah."
"I can't. I've spent every minute of the last three weeks remembering another life in another time, remembering the night we made love here, in this house. I love you, Gabriel."
He closed his eyes. Her words washed over him, cleansing the bitterness from his heart. Sweet words, he mused, the most welcome words in the world.
With an effort, he turned away from her. "Sarah, please... go away."
"You need blood." She had a sudden sense of deja vu as she spoke the words, the same words she'd said a hundred years ago.
He would have laughed if he hadn't been in such agony. Once before he had tried to send her away, and she had stubbornly refused to go. And now it was happening again. Was this to be the pattern of his life from now on, to find her and lose her again and again, to ease his fiendish hunger with a few drops of her precious blood, to watch her grow old and die in his arms?
A harsh cry rose in his throat. He would not do it again. Could not do it again.
"Go home, Sarah. Forget all of this."
He flinched as her arms slid around his waist. It was a sign of his weakness that he hadn't heard her come up behind him. Had she been an enemy, he would likely be dead now, a wooden stake through his heart. An hour ago, a moment ago, he would have welcomed death, but now Sarah was here, and life was again worth living.
"We've been through all this before, Gabriel," she said, pressing her cheek against his back. "Take what you need."
"And what if I can't stop this time, cara? What if I take too much? What if I take it all?" He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh. "If you decide to stay with me now, I won't watch you die, not this time. Are you prepared to live the life of a vampire?"
"I don't know. It seems like such a horrible way to live."
"Horrible?" He stared down at her hands, locked around his waist. It hadn't been a horrible existence, but it had been lonely. He remembered how it had been when first he'd been made, watching people he knew grow old and die, watching the world change, until there was nothing left of the life he had known, the world he had known. Until there was no one alive who remembered who he had been.
But then he had met Sara Jayne, and she had made it all worthwhile.
And now she was here.
Again.
Offering to ease his hunger.
Again.
"Gabriel, maybe there's a cure for what you are. I mean, surely, in this day and age, there must be something we can do."
"A cure?" He frowned. Over the centuries, he had heard whispers of such a thing from other vampires, but he had never believed it or pursued it. There had been too much to see, to learn. In spite of the loneliness, he had enjoyed his existence, and the supernatural powers that came with it.
A cure? Perhaps, but he couldn't think of it now, couldn't think of anything but the need to get Sarah out of the house before it was too late, before the ravening hunger that lived inside him became overpowering.
"We can talk about it tomorrow," he said. "But now you must go home." A shudder racked his body.
Her blood. The smell of it was driving him dangerously near the edge of resistance. He could feel his fangs lengthening in response to the smell. It would be so easy to take her, to make her his for all time. "Sarah... please. Go home."
Reluctantly, Sarah moved away from him. For the first time, she realized it was raining. Lightning cut through the black clouds; thunder rumbled across the darkened skies. How appropriate, she thought. In horror movies, there was always a storm when the heroine's life was in danger.
She looked at Gabriel. He was still standing with his back toward her, his hands clenched at his sides. "Will you still be here tomorrow?"
"What do you mean?"
"You aren't thinking of doing something stupid, are you?"
"Stupid? No."
"You're lying."
He turned around to face her. "Am I?"
"You want to die, don't you? That's why you haven't fed."
She was very perceptive, he thought. But then, she always had been.
"I don't want you to die, and I don't want you to suffer." Sweeping her hair away from her neck, she tilted her head to the side. "Take what you need, Gabriel."
He took a step toward her, his hands clenched at his sides. His eyes were afire with an unearthly radiance, his lips slightly parted so that she could see his fangs. They looked sharp and very white.
"Run, Sarah," he whispered hoarsely. "Run, before it's too late."
"No." She fought down her burgeoning fear. He had never hurt her before. He wouldn't hurt her now.
And then he was there, towering over her, his dark eyes aglow as he grasped her shoulders in a grip like iron and pressed his mouth to her throat.
Her heart was beating wildly, louder than the thunder that rolled across the sky. Every nerve ending, every cell, seemed alive, tingling with fear and anticipation. She felt a sharp stinging sensation, and then a curious lassitude crept over her.
He was drinking her blood. She wondered why the knowledge of what he was doing didn't sicken her, and then the ability to think seemed to slip away and she was conscious of nothing but pleasure. It pooled in the pit of her stomach, flowed through her blood like warm sweet wine. She wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him as the only solid thing in a world suddenly spinning out of control. She could hear her heart beating a quick tattoo in her ears.
His hair lay like black silk against her cheek. She longed to touch it, but she lacked the strength to lift her arm. Her fingers clutched his sweater, and it was as if she could feel each individual thread. Colors danced before her eyes: vivid shades of red and violet and blue.
Her head fell back, and she was drifting, floating on a crimson sea, every fiber of her being awash with sensual pleasure.
She was desolate when he took his mouth away.
"Sarah?"
She blinked up at him. His face swam before her eyes, and she blinked again, wondering why she felt so strange.
"Sarah? Sarah!"
"Hmmm?" She stared up at him, though it was an effort to keep her eyes open, to focus. His skin was no longer pale. His cheeks were flushed; the blood-lust was gone from his eyes. A distant part of her mind told her that her blood had done that for him.
Gabriel swore under his breath, cursing the insatiable hunger, the weakness, that had driven him to take that which he had no right to take. One day he would take too much and it would kill her.
He cursed under his breath as he swept her into his arms and carried her into the kitchen. Filling a glass with water, he held it to her lips, insisting she drink it all. And then he carried her up the stairs and put her to bed.
"Stay with me," she begged. "Stay until the sun comes up."
"I will."
"Am I your slave now?"
"No."
"I wouldn't mind, you know, being your slave."
"I would. Go to sleep, Sarah."
"You'll be here tomorrow night? You won't destroy yourself? Promise me."
"I promise."
"We'll find a cure," she murmured as her eyelids fluttered down. "I know we will. And if we can't... if we can't..."
He listened to the soft sound of her breathing as sleep claimed her.
"And if we can't," he said, finishing her thought in his own way, "then we'll meet death together, for I won't be parted from you in life again."
The house was deadly quiet. Alone in the pink bedroom, the covers drawn up to her chin, Sarah stared out the window at the darkness, wondering what had awakened her, wondering where Gabriel was. The last thing she remembered was Gabriel bending over her, promising that he wouldn't destroy himself.
She let out a sigh. She had spent the last three weeks remembering another life, trying to convince herself it wasn't true, that she hadn't lived before. But she'd known, in the depths of her heart and soul, that everything Gabriel had told her was true. She had lived before, loved him before. And she loved him now.
With that irrefutable thought in mind, she had rented her house, furniture and all, to a young family. Then she had packed her bags and come here. Hard to believe that had been only hours ago. It seemed as though centuries had passed since she entered this house. Since she had come home. To Gabriel. What should have seemed totally bizarre felt completely right.
She had lived before. Gabriel had been her husband, and now she was back where she belonged.
She was almost asleep again when she sensed his presence in the room, and then he was sliding under the covers, taking her in his arms.
"It will be dawn soon," he whispered. "Let me hold you until then."
"We'll be together always, won't we?"
"Always."
She made a soft sound of acquiescence as she snuggled against him. Home, she thought, home at last.
She felt his lips move in her hair, heard his voice whispering her name, speaking to her in a language she didn't comprehend, and yet she understood every word.
Warm and safe, drifting on a gentle tide of love, her last thought before sleep claimed her was that she loved him, that even if they were parted again, she would find him in another life.
When next she woke, it was morning and she was alone, but she knew that he was there, somewhere in the house. Filled with a sense of well-being, she jumped out of bed. After taking a lengthy shower and brushing her hair, she pulled on a bulky white sweater and a pair of jeans, slipped on tennis shoes, then went downstairs. She ate a quick breakfast of tea and toast, then left the house, bound for the library.
She was amazed at the number of books on vampire lore - Vampire: The Complete Guide to the World of the Undeadby Mascetti; The Vampire Encyclopediaby Bunson; The Vampire in Legend, Fact and Artby Copper; The Terror That Comes in the Nightby Hufford; In Search of Draculaby McNally - the list went on and on, with books detailing how to recognize a vampire, how to destroy a vampire, how to protect oneself from a vampire, but nowhere did she find any indication that a vampire had ever been successfully transformed back into a human.
According to one book, vampires always wore black tuxedos with long tails, and a black silk cloak, which some believed was woven by the vampire himself after his transformation.
Sarah frowned. Gabriel did, indeed, wear black, she thought, but not a tuxedo, and she'd never seen him in a cape... but that wasn't true, she amended. In France, he'd always worn a long black cloak, only it had been made of wool, not silk.
She studied old newspaper articles, fascinated by a 1980s headline: VAMPIRE KILLINGS SWEEP THE U.S. The article reported that experts believed vampires were responsible for as many as 6,000 deaths a year, and that police were investigating dozens of eerie murders in which the bodies of the victims had been drained of blood - a double murder in New York City where there wasn't enough blood left in the bodies for the medical examiner to take a blood sample; six people in California had been murdered by a man who later admitted to drinking their blood.
In a book, she read that, in ancient times, people had believed that a dead body could become a vampire if an animal such as a dog or a cat jumped over it. And if a bat flew over a body, there was no escape from becoming a vampire. Likewise, if one's shadow was stolen, becoming a vampire was inevitable. If the deceased couldn't be buried, either because the earth would not accept the body, as with the case of evil-doers, or because the authorities would object, then the victim would more than likely become a vampire.
Sarah shook her head. How could people ever have believed in such nonsense?
How could she believe in reincarnation, in vampires?
But she had no doubt that Gabriel was what he said he was; she'd seen the proof with her own eyes. And if one was made a vampire, then surely one could be unmade, and she would not rest until she found a cure, because there were only two alternatives: living the past over again, or becoming what Gabriel was, and she knew that was something she could never do. If she was going to live forever, then she wanted it to be in heaven or paradise, surrounded by joy and happiness and those she had loved in life; she didn't want to live forever at the expense of others, not even to be with Gabriel.
She spent most of the day at the library before returning to the house. She was aware of a keen sense of anticipation as she went into the kitchen and fixed something to eat.
She was putting the dishes in the dishwasher when she sensed Gabriel's presence, and then he was standing behind her, his arms slipping around her waisttodraw her back against him.
They stood that way for a long moment, with her hand stroking his while he rained kisses along the side of her neck.
"So," he said at last, "what did you do today?"
"I did some research on vampires."
"Oh? And what did you learn?"
"Everything but how to cure one."
He turned her in his arms and brushed a kiss across her lips. "I'm sure any cure you found in a book would be a waste of time, if one exists at all."
"Well, I'm not giving up. Haven't you ever heard of any vampire who returned to his former state?"
Gabriel shrugged. "There are stories, rumors of vampires who tried to reenter mortality."
"Did it work?"
"There is a legend among vampires that one of our kind was successfully transformed back to his human state."
"That's great!"
"It's only a fable, Sarah. To my knowledge, no vampire has ever regained his humanity." He drew her up against him, holding her tight. "One must go to the very brink of death to become a vampire. Crossing the chasm from death to life is not easy. It is, in many ways, like dying again."
"I don't want you to die."
He laughed softly, his breath fanning her cheek. "I'm already dead."
His words sent a chill down her spine. "So, what are we going to do?"
"I know a very old vampire, one older even than Nina. He lives in France. If there is a cure, Quillan would know of it."
"And if there isn't?"
"I don't know, Sarah. I only know I can't watch you die again."
"I'll come back to you, Gabriel. I found you in this life, and I'll find you again."
"Perhaps."
"How soon can we leave for France?"
"I don't know if he even exists anymore."
"Can you find out?"
"I'll try. I'll write him tomorrow and then we'll just have to wait and see."
She looked up at him, snatches of what she'd read coming back to her. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask."
"Do you really sleep in a... a coffin?"
"No. I could never overcome my aversion to that aspect of being a vampire. I sleep in a large box made of pine, and though it resembles a coffin in size and shape, it's just a box."
"Where is it?"
"In the basement. Would you care to see it?"
"No, I don't think so." She toyed with a lock of her hair. They needed a diversion, she thought, something to think about other than vampires and cures. "Do you have a VCR?"
He frowned a moment. VCR? Ah, a video cassette recorder, he thought, another remarkable invention.
"No, why?"
"I thought it would be fun to sit in front of the fire and watch some movies."
"Then that's what we'll do."
Two hours later, Sarah was sitting on Gabriel's lap watching Bram Stoker's Dracula. So much for forgetting about vampires, she mused ruefully.
Earlier, they had braved the elements and driven to Circuit City where they had bought the best VCR on the market, as well as a stereo. From there, they'd gone to the Wherehouse and picked up a half-dozen videos.
For Gabriel, who had never been inside a video store, it had been quite an experience. He had wandered up and down the aisles until he came to the Horror section, his gaze drawn to the numerous vampire videos. He had chosen three while Sarah went in search of Dances With Wolves, Sleepless in Seattle, and The Last of the Mohicans. Their last stop had been at the market to buy popcorn and 7-Up.
Now, Sarah snuggled against Gabriel, one hand covering her eyes, as rivers of blood filled the screen. She'd tried to watch Bram Stoker's Draculaonce before, and while she'd been fascinated by the love story between Mina and the Count, she'd sat through a good deal of it with her eyes closed, disgusted by the blood and the violence. She had cried at the end when Mina lopped off Dracula's head.
"Amazing," Gabriel remarked when it was over. "Simply amazing."
"Can we watch something funny now?" Sarah asked, slipping off his lap to eject the cassette from the VCR.
Gabriel glanced at the other two vampire movies stacked on top of the TV, then shrugged.
"We can watch another vampire movie later if you want," Sarah said, "although I'll probably have nightmares."
"You're living with a vampire, Sarah," he reminded her, his expression bleak. "If that doesn't give you nightmares, I doubt one of these silly movies will."
She made a face at him. "Very funny. I'm going to make some popcorn..."
Her gaze met his, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was, that a bowl of popcorn, mundane as it might be, somehow served to emphasize the gulf between them.
"Can I bring you a glass of wine?"
At Gabriel's nod, she fled into the kitchen. They had to find a cure, she thought as she poured kernels into the hot-air popper. They had to! He might be able to live forever, but his existence was so empty. She wanted to be able to walk with him in the park on a cold rainy day, jog along the beach with the sun overhead, go to the zoo, the museum, hike the Grand Canyon. She wanted to make love in the daylight, to fall asleep in his arms, and wake up to his kisses. She wanted to have his children, grow old at his side...
She dumped the popcorn into a bowl, then stared into the wine she had poured for him. Always red wine. The color of blood.
She looked out the kitchen window, remembering her past life with Gabriel. At first, it had been wonderful. She had loved the castle, loved Spain, loved Gabriel beyond words. He had shown her the world, and the fact that she had to spend her days alone had been a small price to pay for the joy she had found in his arms at night. But, as wonderful as the first half of her life had been, the last half had been a torment. It had been awful, growing old while Gabriel stayed forever the same.
When she started to look like his mother instead of his wife, they had stopped going outside of the castle together because there was no way to explain the fact that Gabriel wasn't aging while everyone around him grew older.
And yet he had loved her to the end. She had never lacked for anything; she had only to mention that she wanted something, needed something, and it was hers. During the last year of her life, when she had been old and frail, he had cared for her as tenderly as ever a man cared for a woman. He had begged her not to leave him, to accept the Dark Gift, but by then it had been too late. She had been too old, and even though she had not wanted to die, she hadn't wanted to live forever as an old woman, either, and in the end, knowing she had made the right choice, she had died peacefully in Gabriel's arms. His face, unchanged in the fifty-four years they had spent together, had been the last thing she had seen on this earth.
And now she was with him again, and if they couldn't find a way to restore him to mortality, she would have to decide whether she wanted to die a second time, or become what he was.
She was reaching for the bowl when she sensed him standing behind her. Forcing a smile, she turned around to face him.
"You don't have to decide tonight, Sarah," he said quietly. "Not tonight, or this year, or the next."
"I know, but... I don't know what to do."
"Come and watch your movie."
She followed him into the living room, settled herself on his lap, and tried to concentrate on Meg Ryan's efforts to meet Tom Hanks, but the words made no sense, the humor seemed flat. The popcorn tasted like ashes. She didn't want to spend the next year trying to decide what to do. She didn't want to worry about it and fret over it, didn't want it hanging over her head. She wanted the decision made now.
Putting the bowl aside, she turned off the TV and faced Gabriel. "I think, if we can't find a cure, that you should make me what you are."
"Is that what you really want?"
"I don't know. And I don't want to have to decide. I just want you to do it."
"And what if you hate me for it?"
"I don't think I could ever hate you."
"Maybe not, but what if you're wrong, Sarah? I couldn't endure your hatred for the rest of my existence, however long that might be." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "I'll see if I can get in touch with Quillan. After we hear from him, we can decide about the future."
Sarah nodded. She would put it out of her mind until they heard from the vampire in France. Until then... She smiled at Gabriel as she took him by the hand and led him upstairs to bed. Until then, she intended to spend every minute getting reacquainted with the incredible man who had been her husband.