A Vampire's Soul (10 page)

It never crossed my mind to wonder why it didn't simply run back into the woods now that I had stopped. Or why I didn't shift into drive and start forward, slowly. The cat probably would have jumped gracefully off the hood once it felt the POS begin to move. Then again, maybe the sound of the still-running engine was familiar, a little like purring. Falling under the creature's spell, I was completely dazzled. I wondered if the animal was a hybrid, one of those designer breeds that seem to be popular these days. Or maybe it was a mutated throwback because this leopard, if that's what it actually was, was the size of a small pony. Not that anyone was going to throw a saddle on its back. If the leopards I'd seen in the zoo shared DNA with the creature now posing as a hood ornament, then I was looking at a Paleolithic ancestor.

The leopard—I couldn't think of it as anything else—opened its mouth and yawned. Whatever problem it had been struggling with had apparently been resolved. I just hoped it wasn't anything along the lines of getting fresh meat out of a can with no opener handy. It made a noise, but something a lot softer this time—a deep rumble coming from its chest, a definite purr. Raising a paw, it patted the glass separating us a few times before resting its pads against the windshield. I stared. The thing was the size of a dinner plate.

Shifting position, the cat rolled so it was now lying instead of crouching on the hood. I watched its tail drop down over the front of the hood and swish gently from side to side. The long tongue unfurled and licked the windshield. And then it batted the wet spot with its paw. I released the death-grip I had on the steering wheel and stretched my arm forward. Pressing my palm against the inside of the windshield, I high-fived the velvet black paw.

The big cat began to pant. Its muzzle twitched, its sides heaved, and its tail began swishing a little more rapidly. Its eyes now took on the color of ripe summer peaches, the kind you buy in small baskets from stands alongside the road. I spread my fingers, opening my hand on my side of the glass. It felt warm, as if the animal was radiating its body heat directly through its paw. And then the rumbling sound came again. Deep in its throat, it now sounded like a warning, and the same feeling of déjà vu that I'd felt when I first saw Gabriel suddenly came over me.

I had heard, and seen, this creature before. Not another animal that looked similar, but
this
actual leopard. It had been a long time ago, but it
had
happened, and all I needed to do now was remember when.

“What are you?” I murmured.

I don't know if it heard me or could understand what I was saying, but I'll go to my grave positive the damn thing grinned at me.

I
don't remember much about the drive home. Truthfully I don't remember driving home at all, but I must have done so because when I next got out of the POS, it was in the driveway in front of my house. So if I didn't drive home . . . who did?

I'm not sure what happened to the leopard. I think it jumped down off the hood and sort of melted into the tree line, but that was when my recollection of events started to get fuzzy. It might have vanished while it was still sitting on the hood of the car, looking at me—no, make that grinning at me—through the windshield. I do know my palm, the one I had pressed against the leopard's paw through the glass, still tingled. The animal was linked to Gabriel . . . who was linked to me. Or was I linked to both of them? Either way, I didn't think it made much difference.

And that's when I began crying.

Sitting in the POS with my head resting against my arm on the steering wheel, I let the tears flow. An internal wall, one I hadn't even realized I had built, imploded in spectacular fashion. The strain of dealing with revelations I barely knew how to make sense of proved too much for it. Guess I was using the wrong type of mortar. In any case, that internal wall collapsed and, in a torrent of tears, washed away brick by brick, until there was nothing left.

I don't cry pretty. I'm not one of those girls who can make their eyes glisten with moisture and only need to dab at them with the edge of a lace hanky. I'm more a roll of toilet paper type of person. When I really let go, my eyes get puffy and swollen, my mascara runs, and I need to blow my nose. Now, after what was probably no more than a few minutes of tear duct aerobics, I was positively exhausted. Crying—real gut-wrenching, shoulder-shuddering sobbing—is very tiring. With no toilet paper or tissues at hand, I wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand. Who cared if I gave myself raccoon eyes? My sleeved forearm took care of my nose—nasty, I know—but there wasn't much else I could do.

Crying may be exhausting, but it's also very therapeutic. I won't say I was feeling better, but the wave of desperation that had been quietly haunting me ever since I'd been forced to confront Gabriel's nature was now gone. Feeling like I was at least eighty years old, I got out of the car, wearily climbed the front porch stairs, and went straight up to bed. Too tired to get out of my clothes, I just managed to kick my shoes off, pull the quilt over me, and close my eyes. I'd never been so tired.

As I drifted off, I made a mental reminder to tell Gabriel about the leopard. He would know what its appearance meant. Only a voice in my head said it wasn't necessary.

Oh, right, who else would it be? I burrowed deeper under the covers and sighed. Seeing the leopard had been significant, and on the cusp of falling asleep I could have sworn I heard the sound of thunder. Or maybe it was a big cat purring. I fell asleep . . . . . . and I dreamed . . .

 

The cold cut through me like a knife. It was the kind of chill that went beyond teeth-chattering and shivering. This cold penetrated so deep it made my muscles ache and had me seriously wondering if it was possible for the marrow in my bones to freeze while I was still alive. As in most dreams, I was dressed inappropriately.

This was my first indication that something was off. In other dreams I could be frolicking with a penguin in a bikini—me, not the penguin—and I wouldn't even notice that it was below freezing.

Now, I realized that if I didn't want to succumb to hyperthermia, I needed to start moving. But I had no idea where I was, and even less where I was supposed to go. Stuffing my hands in my armpits, I looked around.

Great. It was night.

Generally speaking, I'm not afraid of the dark, but there was something unnatural about the inky blackness surrounding me here. It seemed a little too black, if that was possible. I tried to get my bearings as I peered into the darkness. What little ambient light there was revealed I was in a forest of some sort. At first I thought it might be the stand of trees on the other side of my property line, but what I was seeing weren't pines. In fact, they looked more like something that belonged in a Salvador Dali painting. But I had the sense they had been here for a very, very long time.

A sound behind me signaled something was moving through the undergrowth. I gasped and fell to my knees. Cold air hit my lungs like a razor slicing my chest. Clutching my arms, I doubled over, waiting for the pain to pass. Whatever was behind me had stopped moving, but I could feel its eyes on me as I struggled to my feet. Perhaps it was surprised by my frailty. Perhaps it was surprised by my determination to go on. In any case, it had just lost a golden opportunity to attack.

A bitter wind now added to my misery. And with it came snow. A curtain of white flurries obscured what little view I had of my surroundings, effectively blinding me. Stumbling over a tree root, I came to the conclusion that a twisted ankle would be the same as being staked out like a sacrificial offering. I hugged my upper body, rocking back and forth in order to conserve what little body heat I still had. As I was trying to decide whether I should continue on or simply lie on the ground and wait until I woke up, the wind dropped. The absence of its howl was startling.

My stalker was also surprised by the sudden quiet. No longer able to hide the sound of its movements inside the wind's whine, it now crashed noisily behind me. I didn't bother looking. If the creature wanted to attack me, I had given it ample opportunity. Whatever it was seemed content to follow in my wake. Getting to my feet, I pushed the hair out of my face with numb fingers and stared at a glow in the distance. A light was shining, one that promised warmth and an end to this dreadful journey. And I wasn't the only one who saw it. A low rumbling growl told me that the light was a welcome beacon for both of us.

The predator behind me—and I knew it was a predator—moved out of the shadows and stopped a few feet behind me. I didn't see it—I was too afraid to look—but I
knew
it was there, the same way I knew it had slashing razor claws and multiple rows of sharp teeth. I couldn't outrun it, even if I wanted to. I was now so cold I couldn't do more than shuffle along like a zombie. All my muscles were stiff, my thigh muscles especially, and my gait was now reduced to something that wouldn't even get me a tryout at the Senior Olympics. But I needed the animal behind me to know I wasn't a pushover.

“I promise you this,” I muttered through lips that had to be blue by now, “if you take me on, I'm not going down easy. I'll make sure you lose at least one eye before I'm done.”

There came a whuff of air, like a deep breath on an exhale. I took it to mean that my companion not only understood what I had said, but somehow approved of my willingness to put up a fight. With this understanding between us, we headed toward the light. I stumbled two more times over roots hidden by the snowfall, and both times my fall elicited a series of growls from behind me. I found myself apologizing. If my progress was halted, then so was the animal's, and it didn't like being cold any more than I did.

I don't know how long we walked because I had lost all sense of time almost the moment I entered this strange place. In my head I tried counting out a minute, but my brain couldn't seem to make it past fifteen-Mississippi, so I gave up. We could have been walking for more than an hour or only ten minutes. I also stopped cataloging the physical toll being inflicted on my body. I'm quite sure it was still suffering, but my brain no longer bothered keeping track of the details. Or maybe my nerve endings were so cold they could no longer transmit information. However, my brain was lucid enough to let me know when my companion abandoned me. The sudden silence was deafening, and despite a voice in my head telling me maybe it wasn't such a good idea, I turned and looked behind me.

I don't know what I was expecting, but all I saw was more of the same unnatural blackness, broken up by huge tree limbs. The sense that I was now alone was heartbreaking. How could the creature have abandoned me without so much as a warning? I cursed myself for my timidity. If I had been brave enough to look sooner, what might I have seen? Of course, it was also probable that my lack of curiosity was precisely what had kept me alive. That, however, was scant comfort. My sense of loss was very real, as was my sudden fear at knowing I was alone.

I was surprised to find the pocket of light was now much closer, although I should have realized that time wasn't the only thing that becomes distorted in a dream, even a dream that felt as real as this one did. No doubt my companion had far superior eyesight and had already found whatever had brought it to this place. I needed to do the same. Answers lay within the pocket of light. Even if I didn't know the questions.

I stepped forward into a pool of warmth and screamed in agony. Going from one physical extreme to another is a shock to the system even under the best of circumstances, and this was nowhere near the best. In the space of a heartbeat I'd been kicked out of the arctic and shoved head first into a tropical heat wave, with no warm-up in between. My legs gave way, and my hands, responding instinctively, automatically braced against the fall. I felt as if I had landed on broken glass. The pain that shot up my arms to my shoulders was excruciating, flaying me open every inch of the way.

It was also the moment I knew beyond any doubt that this was no dream. I might still be lying in my bed, quilt pulled up to my chin, but whatever was going on inside my head owed nothing to REM sleep. A door was opening, a door to long-forgotten memories.

Clutching my hands to my chest, I rolled into a ball. Squeezing my eyes shut, I choked back the screams that threatened to erupt with every pain-filled spasm ricocheting through me. It was pure torture—even my eyelashes hurt—and then, just when I was certain I couldn't take any more, the pain ceased. A switch in my central nervous system had been mercifully flipped off.

Slowly I uncurled myself and rolled over onto my back. It took a few moments for me to catch my breath and make sure this wasn't only a temporary respite. I stretched out my limbs, grateful to find them pliant and responsive. Inside my shoes, my toes wiggled, and I could feel dirt as I scrunched up my fingers. Good. My extremities worked. I opened my eyes slowly, not wanting to risk getting my retinas fried in the brilliant, dazzling light that now bathed me. I had the sense that everything I had ever known in my life that was pure and good had been captured inside that soft radiance.

My struggle to get to this place had taken its toll, and getting to my feet was an awkward process. As I pushed myself upright, I felt the intensity of the light surrounding me diminish. Pushing the hair out of my eyes with one hand, I looked about me. I stood on the outer edge of a clearing, a circle where nothing grew save the cruelest-looking tree I'd ever seen. I felt a ridge forming between my brows as I stared at it. Instead of leaves, its branches bore vicious-looking thorns, the smallest of which was at least as thick as my forearm and longer than the distance between my wrist and elbow. And yet this was the origin of the glorious luminosity that filled the circle. I was at a loss to explain how such warmth and life could be emitted by something so awful. And then I saw. The light wasn't coming from the tree . . . it came from what was hanging in the tree.

My hand to flew to my mouth, and I gasped. Impaled on the thorny branches in an obscene crucifixion was Gabriel. His body was leaner, less muscular, but the white hair that I so loved was the same, although it now fell well past his hips. And he was younger somehow. The Gabriel I knew carried with him the experience of the life he had lived. It showed in his manner, his speech, his bearing. Some of it good . . . some of it bad, but it all made the man I knew. This Gabriel was different. It was as if he had yet to live those experiences. And I couldn't explain why I knew that any more than I could explain the light that came from him. The light that had brought me here.

“Gabriel!” I called his name, but he gave no sign he had heard me or even knew I was there. I hoped he was unconscious because it would be a respite from the pain he had to be feeling. I moved forward, stumbling as I made my way to the base of the tree. Any hope I had of rescuing him was immediately dashed. He was positioned too high up for me to reach, but I could see the strain the unnatural position of his body was placing on his arms and shoulders. How long had he been here? How much longer was he going to be able to suffer this torture? Tears flowed from my eyes as a sense of helplessness washed over me.

“Gabriel . . . ?” I spoke his name more softly this time, praying that he would not open his eyes, but wanting him to know he was not alone.

Blood washed over my shoes, blood . . . and something else. I bent down and plucked a feather out of the rust-colored liquid. It was longer than my arm, and the edges, where it was not stained with blood, were a shade of blue I had never seen before. A chill went through me as I slowly turned the feather over in my hand. The Gabriel I knew might be a vampire, but once he had been something else. Something very different.