A Vampire's Soul (24 page)

I shook my head. No, that definitely wasn't it. If I'd ever been asked out by someone who looked like him, I would have run a mile in the other direction. In spite of his charm and magnetism, both of which he had by the bucket-load, there was also an inherently dangerous quality about him. One that was very different from anything I had experienced. Sometimes Gabriel felt dangerous, and when I sensed whatever prompted that feeling rising in him, the danger made me feel reckless and wanton. I was able to give free rein to such feelings because I also knew that with Gabriel I was perfectly safe. He was never going to let anything truly bad happen to me. And although I had no doubt this handsome stranger could make me feel just as reckless, just as wanton, for him the thrill was all in the chase. It would be over the moment he caught me. In more ways than one.

I narrowed my eyes and tried picturing him in a different setting, to see if I could bring to mind whoever it was he reminded me of, and then it came to me. I blurted out the name of Hollywood's current bad boy, who had a blockbuster movie opening Christmas Day.

His dark eyes flashed in amusement. “Perhaps it would be a truer statement to say he looks like
me,
rather than the other way around.”

Now didn't that put all those tabloid stories in a completely different light?

“Well, I doubt that he ever hosted a tea party or looked as well dressed as you,” I said. “Your suit is beautiful.”

“Thank you. It's Armani.”

My knowledge of men's fashions had been expanding since I'd begun dating a vampire, and even though the only suit I'd seen Gabriel wear was his birthday one, I was confident he had to have at least one Armani in his closet. He wasn't the kind of vampire who couldn't dress up when the occasion called for it.

I took another sip of my iced tea. “Can you tell me where I am, exactly?”

“Purgatory.”

I almost choked on an ice cube. Waving off his concern at my sudden coughing spasm, I reached for a linen napkin, holding it to my mouth while I brought my spluttering under control.

“Why so surprised, Rowan?”

“Well, let's just say it's not exactly how I imagined it to be.” Putting his cup and saucer on the table, he crossed his legs and smiled at me. “You think it should be all fiery pits and suffering? Demons running amok with pitchforks? Horrific screams of the potentially damned being tortured?”

“Yeah, something like that.” I took a more cautious sip from my glass.

“Permit me to share a secret. To some people this
is
purgatory.” It was hard to imagine anyone not finding something to delight the eye or soothe the senses in this garden, but I do know there are people who have what I consider an unnatural dislike of the outdoors. Especially all the things that make it the outdoors. But if this was Purgatory, did that mean that this time I really was dead?

“Sebastian warned me about that,” he said with a knowing smile,

“your obsession about being dead. Only he couldn't tell if you were terrified by the prospect or eager to embrace it.” He waved an expansive hand. “But do not concern yourself. For you this is simply a garden. Even I can create something that is beautiful for no reason other than it pleases me to do so. And doing this for you gave me a great deal of pleasure.”

I looked away, feeling strangely embarrassed by his words. It was as if he wanted to show a part of himself to me that no one else had ever seen. And I had no idea why. When I was certain my coloring had returned to normal, I looked back. My companion was filling a plate with sandwiches, adding a few of the jam-filled tarts and a cream-filled puff pastry for dessert. I watched as he expertly snapped open a linen napkin, draped it across his leg, and balanced his plate on his crossed knee.

“Um, speaking of Sebastian, how is he?” I wasn't such a bitch that I didn't feel bad about what I'd done.

“As well as any male can be who's just experienced the excruciating pain of being kicked in the balls. He'll recover.”

“Oh . . . well, I am sorry about that.”

“What? That he'll recover?”

“No, of course not! I want him to recover. I meant I'm sorry about having to kick him in the first place.”

“I'm sure he deserved it,” he said, surprising me. “But you should know that not everything Sebastian told you was a lie, Rowan, and he isn't completely bad, at least not yet. He's just confused. Once he makes up his mind and declares himself, he'll feel much better and”—he paused long enough to give me a searching look—“be less prone to making errors in judgment.”

I couldn't speak for past history, but it wasn't that difficult to work out what he considered Sebastian's most recent error in judgment to be. Me.

“What does he need to decide about?” I asked curiously.

“Whether to walk a path in this realm or . . . the other. Trust me, he'll find it less exhausting when he no longer has to divide his allegiance.”

Was that why he tried to stop me from throwing myself into the Void? Personally, I would have thought any error in judgment on the angel's part had been brought about by his close proximity to the Void, not because of anything I might have done. However, I hoped his struggle—and he had definitely been fighting with something—came to an end before any irreversible damage was done. Now I suddenly felt bad about my attack on him, although I couldn't say for sure whether he thought trying to stop my course of action was a duty to the Dark or the Light.

“Are we still in the Void?”

My host laughed. It was a very comfortable, masculine sound. “No, if we were, this would not be half as pleasant. I'm sorry to say a question regarding your suitability has been raised.”

I gave my own laugh. Part indignation, part nerves. “What's wrong? Isn't my soul bad enough?”

I hated this feeling of always being one step behind everyone else. The bee busying himself with the contents of the vase on the table probably knew more about what was going on than I did. I watched as another triangle of bread disappeared into my host's mouth. I couldn't be sure, but I thought whatever was between the two pieces of bread was . . . moving.

“Everyone's soul is dark enough for the Void,” he said in answer to my flip remark. “Unless, of course, you are a newborn or Mother Theresa.” He selected another triangle and held it up in his fingers. I told myself not to look at the sandwich. “The problem isn't with your soul, Rowan, it's with your motive.”

“Wanting to save Gabriel isn't good enough?”

“Wanting to save any vampire is too good, but this particular one?” He held up a forefinger and waved it back and forth in a negative motion. “And I should tell you, before you ask, your efforts were wasted. You still have full possession of both his soul and your own.”

“And I'm alive?” He hadn't actually told me that.

“Well, you're breathing, aren't you?”

I felt the hot prick of tears sting my eyes, which made me angry. I had tried my best and failed. My best, and only, attempt had all been for nothing. Now this handsome, suave man was going to do what Sebastian hadn't been able to—hand me over to the Wraith so he could bring me out on Sundays and holidays, parade me around, and no doubt use me to coerce Gabriel into being his lapdog. It was going to be a special kind of hell for both of us.

“S
o when is he coming for me?” I asked, furiously blinking away my tears.

My host looked surprised. “Who?”

“The Wraith. You're going to hand me over to him, aren't you?” I spread a hand across the table. “Isn't that what this is all about? The condemned woman's last meal?”

This time when he laughed, he threw back his head. “You are delightful, Rowan! I'd almost forgotten how much so.”
Yeah? Well, big whoop.
“I have no intention of handing you over to anyone, and besides,” he said, gesturing with his sandwich, “the person you knew as the Wraith is no longer in charge of this dominion.”

Somehow I didn't think it was because he'd been given a promotion. “What happened to him? Did he do something wrong?”

“Very much so,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “He took it upon himself to go beyond the scope of his abilities and perform a task he was not suited for.”

“What did he do?”

The look he gave me said he was surprised that I did not know. “Why, he is the one who orchestrated your loss of memory, Rowan. Causing a Promise to forget their true purpose is forbidden. By both sides.”

His expression might, or might not, have been an apology.

“I would have thought my memory loss would have been an advantage.”

“Ah, now that's the same mistake my predecessor made.” Sighing, he brushed some imaginary crumbs off his lap. “If it were permissible, then such an affliction would prove to be most advantageous; however, sometimes we find ourselves constrained by rules that are not of our making.”

“And making me lose my memory is against those rules?”

“Indeed it is.”

“So are you in charge now?”

He tipped his head in assent. “This meager fragment of the Dark Realm is indeed under my authority.”

In my mind, I saw the hooded robe gliding across the clearing once more. I wanted to ask what had happened to him, but I also feared I wouldn't like the answer.

“And are you also called the Wraith?” I asked, instead.

“No, I go by a very different name.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask, but something made me hold back. I had the feeling his name was something I would be better off not knowing.

“Most wise,” he murmured from across the table.

“Was making me lose my memory really that big a deal?” It didn't seem to me that I'd been hurt by it, and Gabriel appeared to be dealing with it just fine.

“When the terms for binding each Fallen to its Promise were set, it was decreed that they would be sacrosanct. Nothing would be allowed to compromise the purpose of a Promise.”

“When did all this happen?”

“Sixteen ninety-two.”

My jaw dropped open in surprise. I'd been a walking amnesiac for more than three hundred years? Talk about a jolt to the system. I frowned as I ran the date in my head, knowing there was something significant about it, but I couldn't recall what. It didn't help my concentration to feel his cool stare regarding me as he poured more tea. So what had happened two hundred years after Columbus landed in the New World? Damned if I knew.

Seeing my obvious struggle, he said, “Would it help knowing you were in Salem, Massachusetts, at the time?”

“Salem, Mass—the witch trials?” I asked, aghast.

“Yes. I suspect your consorting with the vampire was as close as Cotton Mather ever got to seeing a truly supernatural being.”

“But why make me forget?”

My answer was a shrug of his shoulders. He knew, but for whatever reason he wasn't going to tell me, and I took the hard glitter of his eyes as a warning. I felt a sudden chill, as if the sun had suddenly disappeared behind a cloud. I wanted to believe this wasn't happening, but I knew all too well it was real. I wanted to scream and shout and pull my hair out at my stupidity, but in all fairness it had never occurred to me that throwing myself into the Void might fail. Everything had happened so fast, I hadn't had time to consider unforeseen consequences. And now I was dressed in some getup that my grandmother might have worn, having tea with . . . just who exactly? Who was this person sitting opposite me with his impeccable suit and impeccable manners? Well, he wasn't a man, that much I knew, and I'd suspected from the beginning he wasn't the Wraith. So did that mean he was a demon?

I felt as if the answer was staring me in the face; I just couldn't see it. If I trusted my instincts, I might be able to feel the truth of him, but I couldn't latch onto anything solid enough to pin down. There was a familiarity about the way he said my name and in the way he looked at me. It was a familiarity that felt right and oh so wrong at the same time. And somehow it was linked to the way he refused to call Gabriel by name, although I couldn't explain why I was so certain of that.

I forced my gaze to drift over the garden so I could catch my breath and try to decide what I should do next. The shadows had not moved, and the sun was still shining. The flowers were in full bloom, all dancing for attention with the scent of a hundred different varieties blending into one glorious fragrance. I picked up my glass of iced tea and drained it, watching with childlike glee as it was magically refilled the moment I put it down.

“So what happens now?” I asked, keeping my voice as calm as I could.

“Now we get to the crux of the matter. A dangerous precedent has been set: the vampire's desire to protect your life at the expense of his own soul, and your willingness to surrender that same life in order to give him back his soul.” He clicked his tongue behind his teeth and shook his head. “It has caused quite a commotion, to say nothing about a massive headache,
on both sides
. Such altruism is completely unacceptable.”

Yeah, I just bet it was. I could only imagine the shockwave our love had sent through the Dark Realm.

“I have had to take steps to ensure such unprecedented behavior never occurs again,” he said with a weary sigh.

It wasn't in my best interest to know what kind of steps, so I didn't bother asking, but I felt he had some say in what would become of me now that I was here. In the Dark Realm.

“What are you going to do with me?”

Putting his elbows on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. He stared at me for the longest time before finally asking, “Would you really sacrifice all you are for him?” My throat tightened, preventing me from speaking, so all I could do was give a single nod of my head. His expression changed to one of bewilderment. “But . . .
why?
”

“Because I love him,” I managed to say as my throat magically released itself.

He waved a hand, and everything on the table vanished, including my glass of iced tea. “Love,” he sneered, “is the biggest lie of all.”

“That's only because you've never known it,” I blurted out.

He stood up so suddenly his chair tipped over, and it took only three angry strides for him to reach my side. Grasping my wrist, he pulled me to my feet.

“Are you so sure this love you feel for the vampire can endure? That it will withstand temptation, greed, and lust, and all the other petty vices your kind are so easily swayed by?”

“Yes,” I declared firmly. “If you had ever experienced love, true love, then you would know it can survive all those things and so much more.”

Letting go of my wrist, he took a step back and looked at me, his eyes hooded. “Care to make a bet on it?”

“I—what?”

His question took me by surprise, and I stumbled, catching the edge of the table to steady myself. He repeated himself. I looked out at the garden, seeing the beauty, the grace, the perfection of each leaf and petal. And knew none of it was real.

“Well?”

“You're not going to let me leave this place unless I make that bet, are you?”

He shrugged. “The choice is yours, Rowan.”

Yeah . . . right. He might not be the Wraith, but they were cut from the same cloth. Tricksters, deceivers, they lived only to play the game.

“Very well then,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “What do you propose?” I had a feeling you only ever got one shot when you made a wager with someone like him, and I needed to make sure I didn't hang myself prematurely.

Gleefully, he rubbed his hands together. “Let us put this
affection
you and the vampire feel for each other to the test. Prove to me it is no passing whim, that it can withstand the ultimate trial and endure.”

“What do you consider to be the ultimate trial?”

He seemed surprised that I would ask. “Why, time of course.” “And when I win?”

He chuckled, amused by my confidence. “I will release the vampire from his pledge to the Dark Realm.”

I let out a slow breath and waited for the other shoe to drop. “And if I should lose?” I wasn't going to, but I needed to know what I was risking.

“The same thing I ask from all who wager with me.”

“You want my soul?”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning at me. His teeth looked very white, and very sharp.

Now that I knew the stakes, I needed to concentrate on the terms. “How much time do you intend to give me to prove my claim?”

“I like you, Rowan, I really do. Throwing yourself into the Void for the vampire! What will you do next?” Apparently he was quite tickled by my endeavor because he spent quite a while shaking his head as he continued to chuckle. When he was done, he asked, “Do you think I am generous by nature?”

“I think it depends on your mood,” I told him honestly.

“Then be thankful I am in a very good mood.” He grinned slyly at me, and I was immediately put on my guard. He was either incredibly confident of the outcome of our wager, or there was something he was counting on my not knowing. Either way I was probably screwed. “I will allow you to set whatever span of time you deem sufficient, but,” he continued, “it must be fixed now. No later extension or deviation will be permitted.”

“I can choose any period?”

This seemed too easy. What if I said I wanted a million years? He was expecting me to, I could see it in his face. There was something I definitely wasn't getting—and then it hit me! Sebastian and his fluidity of time remarks. He was going to let me set the time, certain I wouldn't think to define how it was to be measured. I could ask for a million years, but at some point, somewhere, that would be the equivalent of a single day as I knew it. I took a deep breath.

“I want the same amount of time that Gabriel was crucified, and”—I hurried on before he could cut me off—“I want the time to be converted into years as I know them and as they are currently measured in my present existence.”

I had absolutely no idea how long Gabriel had been on that damn tree, or how much longer he would have hung there if I hadn't answered his call. Sebastian hadn't known either, but from the amount of blood that had soaked into the ground, I was certain it had been a while. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he said, looking decidedly less chipper than a few moments before.

“How will you expect me to prove that our love has lasted?” Somehow I didn't think he was just going to take my word for it, or Gabriel's.

“An accounting will be kept.”

“What sort of accounting, and by whom? You?”

I almost laughed out loud at the horrified look on his face. Such a task was obviously beneath him. “It will be as it always has been. Every disagreement you have will be categorized and logged, along with every moment of pleasure. The tally will be kept in a secure place.” Arching a brow, he gave me a long look before saying, “Agreed?”

My antagonist was secretly an accountant at heart. Who knew? The fact he had mentioned
disagreement
before
pleasure
was not lost on me, but I couldn't spot any glaring flaw in the proposal, so I nodded. “Agreed.”

“Then we have a deal,” he declared triumphantly.

I felt the ground shift beneath my feet, and the cold chill that had caressed me earlier returned with a renewed intensity. “Not quite,” I said, holding up a hand. “There's the small matter of my memory.”

“What about your memory? Has it not been restored?”

“This time.”

The look on his face was a mix of hesitant curiosity. “What do you mean . . .
this time?
”

“I am still a Promise, right? Still safeguarding Gabriel's soul?”

“I have no interest in the vampire's soul!” he snapped.

As good as it was to know that, his declaration made me lose my train of thought for a moment. “Regardless, I'm still a Promise?” I repeated. He responded in the affirmative, and my throat was suddenly very dry. I could really use that glass of iced tea right now. “Can you ensure my memory will not be screwed up every time I'm reborn?”

“What are you saying?”

“I've been reborn a lot of times since the witch trials, and I never remembered who or what I was during any of those previous lifetimes. What if it happens again? It seems to me that it might look as though my purpose as a Promise was being compromised, and the rules were being broken . . . again.”

The silence lasted quite a while, or it could have been ten seconds. My perspective was definitely becoming warped.

“Your argument is not without merit,” he conceded finally. “I shall, how you say, level the playing field.” I couldn't quite comprehend the look he gave me, but I'm pretty sure he didn't think I was going to get the better of him in any way. And he might have been right. After all, he'd played this game many times, whereas I didn't even know if there were any rules.