One With the Night (35 page)

Her shoulders relaxed. She smiled, a little crookedly. “He cooks, too.”

“Well, eggs and bacon are about th’ limit o’ my skill.”

“That sounds wonderful to me.”

He busied himself washing his hands after handling the hemlock, watching her surreptitiously. Her eyes darted over the glass forest of beakers and tubing. “It could take years,” she whispered. “There are too many variables to control for. Too many…”

“One day at a time.” Oh,
that
sounded inane. He found a knife and sliced the bread.

“I’m not smart enough.” This time her voice was raw. “Not enough of a scientist.” Her eyes filled. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and kiss away her tears, tell her it would be all right. But it wouldn’t.

“Ye’re smart enough, Jane. Ye’re th’ most intelligent person, man or woman, I’ve ever known. Ye said yerself it’ll take time.”

She rose. “Callan, look at me.” She turned him away from the bowl where the five eggs he had cracked now swam. Her eyes were almost indigo and wet like a rainy night. “I don’t think I’m going to find the cure. I’ll spend my life looking for it, however long that life is. I won’t give up. But any happy ending will be accidental. I didn’t know enough of Papa’s formula to complete the unknowns.” She shook her head in self-recrimination. “I lied to Elyta. I am nowhere near a cure, and not likely to be so.”

He couldn’t tell her it would be all right but he could take her in his arms. The delicate scent of cinnamon and ambergris wafted over him, even with his dulled senses. He looked up at the ceiling and the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the beams. They didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

Wait! The vampires were gone. Elyta’s petulance had drawn her into carelessness. She believed Jane would stay for the sake of the cure and he would stay for Jane’s sake. But there was no cure. And he didn’t have to submit to Elyta or let Jane be killed. He
wasn’t
just a victim anymore. He’d made a choice, but there were other choices. He could make them, too.

Bloody hell! Mortal or not, he still had a brain, didn’t he? It spun now with alternatives. He went to the nearest window and pulled back the heavy blanket that covered it. An hour or more to sunrise. Plenty of time when one of them was vampire. Where? Possibilities cycled through his brain. Urquhart Castle. That would do as well as any other. This would depend on Flavio, and even Clara. Once he would have discounted them, but now, if what Jane said was true, everything had changed for them as well. His eyes darted over the kitchen, considering. He had only moments to plan. He let Jane go and whirled to the stairs that led to the cellar, grabbing the basket they used for gathering herbs and a lamp.

“What are you doing?” Jane called.

“Nae time…” In the cellar he swept up some carrots and parsnips, potatoes, a pot, and hen’s eggs. There was some jerked beef. Perfect. No ale, the cask was too heavy. They’d get water from the loch. He took a flask. Rope? The barn. He took the stairs three at a time.

Jane stood at the doorway, looking startled. Lord help him, but he’d need all his Irish powers of persuasion to get her to go along with this mad scheme. He pushed past her and ripped blankets from the windows. “Go upstairs and get yer cloak and some night things.” He wouldn’t tell her anything else, least of all how long they might be gone. She could make do. She was hardy. “I’m goin’ ta th’ barn.”

“Callan, what’s this about? You’re frightening me.”

He looked back at her from the door and broke into a grin. In the end, he let his grin take the place of all those Irish powers of persuasion. Or maybe the grin was the essence of them. “Trust me, lass. I ha’ a plan.”

*   *   *

Callan ran into Flavio on his way down from the barn with a sturdy cord. Elyta hadn’t been as careless as he’d thought.

“Whoa,” Flavio protested. “Where away?” He frowned.

Callan stopped stock-still. The meeting might actually be fortuitous. Calm purpose filled him. Now he must plant the seeds of their success. They needed Flavio. “She can no’ find th’ cure.” Callan set the words out there between them.

Flavio sighed. He knew what that meant.

“Sa we’re goin’.”

“She’ll find you.”

Callan was careful here. “Not if ye dinnae tell her we’re gone. Give us a day’s start.”

“If she finds out I’ve helped you…”

“Go ta yer room. Say ye did no’ know we were gone.”

“She’ll blame me.”

They both knew what that meant.
He will no’ do it,
Callan thought. But he must. And in the end, more. “Ye
could
just do everythin’ ye’re told all yer life.”

Flavio ran his hand over the rough wool that covered his thighs. “She has influence with the Elders. She can keep me out of Mirso.”

“Th’ choice is yers, that’s certain.”

“I have no choice.” Flavio bit out the words.

“Ye always ha’ a choice.” Callan mustered his courage “Ye made a choice when ye did no’ help Sincai against th’ Elders.”

Devastation flickered in the monk’s eyes. Had Callan gone too far? “Th’ Rules th’ Elders make are no’ infallible. One to a city, for instance. That does no’ seem right.” He let that sink in. Flavio might not be enthusiastic about that rule right about now. “But I canno’ stand jawin’ with ye.” He pushed past the monk, who stood still, indecisive. “Ye’ll tell her or no’. If ye care ta be o’ service, ye’ll suggest searchin’ Inverness.”

He didn’t look back, but strode toward the kitchen. “Take care of Faust and th’ mare. I’ll be back for ’em.” He hoped the seed he’d planted in Flavio would take root. If not …

He was stuffing their meager supplies into his valise when Jane came down dressed in her traveling cloak.

“Callan,” she said “what do you mean to do?”

“I mean us ta go, Jane, before Elyta comes back. We canno’ stay here and wait for more ta come after ye, or for her ta get impatient when ye canno’ produce th’ cure.” He grabbed the valise and put the stack of blankets under that arm. She looked so forlorn.

“I failed us.”

He shook his head. She had failed? Hardly. She’d stood up to Elyta for his sake. She bore being vampire far better than he had. She’d loved her selfish old fool of a father and slaved her whole life to be worthy of him when he wasn’t worth half of her. And now she felt she’d failed because her father hadn’t valued her enough to include her in his experiments? Callan slid his free arm under her cloak and pulled her gently to him. He could not help the smile that rose to his eyes and pulled on his lips. “Ye ha’ no’ failed. Th’ cure was lost in th’ fire without yer father tellin’ ye enough ta allow ye ta reproduce it. That’s different.”

Her eyes were big with self-recrimination. She was about to speak … when he shushed her. “We must go. Now hold me tight and draw yer power.”

“Can I…?”

“Aye. Ye can move us both.”

She pressed her lips together. The vibrations in the air ramped up. There was a tingling around his feet that swirled up around his knees. There would be pain, harder to bear than if he was vampire. “Where…?” she asked.

Hips and loins were tingling now. Chest. “Think o’ Urquhart Castle.”

He screamed as the blackness enveloped them and turned them inside out in space.

*   *   *

The grassy sward inside the ruined castle walls shimmered into life around Jane. Callan fell to his knees, gasping, beside her. “Are you all right?” she asked, bending over him.

“Aye.” He pushed himself to his feet, breathing hard.

The predawn gloaming was at hand. The sun would rise at any moment. Did he mean to hide here for the day? It was so close to Elyta! But she would be hemmed in by the daylight just as they were. For one day it might work. Callan took her hand and stumbled across the open bailey toward the tower that sat at the loch edge of the outer wall in a little depression. He turned in a circle surveying the place. What was he up to?

He turned to Jane. “This part is up ta ye. We need ta block this door and make it look like nae one has entered for a hundred years.” He nodded to a great stone buried in the earth nearby. “If ye push that out o’ th’ ground, it’ll roll right down. I’ll get up on th’ tower and shove down some stones around it ta make it look natural. We’ll transport inside.”

Jane surveyed the sky. They had so little time. Why did he think they must bury the doorway? But he did. And she had committed herself to follow his unknown plan. It was probably a mark of her despair to cede all control to him. “You go inside. I’ll do this thing.”

“Nae, I’ll help ye.”

“Transporting seems a little hard on you,” she said doubtfully.

He looked away, exasperated. “Let a man ha’ some pride, lass.”

She raised her brows. Men’s pride. At a time like this? And she
tried
to suppress the little smile around her mouth, but he was so dear she couldn’t. She covered it instead by scurrying to the door and heaving it shut. Callan scrambled up the castle wall. She looked up to the great stone. Could she push it out of the ground? Was she that strong? He thought she was. And he thought this was necessary. She ran up behind it and placed her hands on the rough, cold surface.

This was ludicrous. She looked over to Callan who had climbed up onto the tower from the outer wall just where some crumbling crenellations began. He set down his valise and the blankets and moved along the ramparts, testing for places where the mortar had failed.

All right. She was on her own here. She heaved herself against the stone, grunting. It rocked forward and rocked back. She heaved again, using its own movement to increase the swing. She almost fell when it finally tore its muddy roots from the earth and went tumbling down the hill. It crashed against the thick wooden door and the whole tower shuddered. Callan grinned at Jane. She was a little stunned. Slowly she turned toward the east. She could practically feel the sun surging up toward the horizon. They had only moments to complete their task.

If she concentrated, she could bring down the stones of the battlements from here, she was sure. But what if she somehow missed and threw Callan to his death? She drew her power. She’d have to go in person. As she materialized beside him, Callan pushed over a whole weakened section of the crenellations that formed a waist-high wall. Rocks tumbled over the great stone below. He turned, startled at her presence. She pushed at another section. It too gave way. Together, they heaved stones from farther away into the growing pile. It looked like a landslide. Not quite natural perhaps, but if it would rain and settle the dust … He grabbed the blankets and the valise.

The sun edged over the tops of the hills.

Jane gasped.

Callan took her in his arms, shielding her with his body. “Now would be good.”

Companion!
The power enveloped them both. She thought about the room where they had first made love.

They popped back into space inside the tower. Light came through the slits of window embrasures and the cold of the loch seemed to penetrate her bones. Callan dropped to his knees, gasping. The valise and the blankets slipped to the floor. She bent to him.

“We must get down ta th’ verra bottom,” he wheezed.

Well, she surely wasn’t going to transport him again, especially to someplace she’d never been. What if she materialized inside stone or dirt? Could you do that? She jerked up the metal ring in the floor. Then she returned to collect him, the blankets, and the valise. She pulled him along as he scrambled to the stairway.
He’ll probably fall and break his neck,
she thought. But he didn’t. She lowered the trapdoor as she descended after him. Down and down they went, until they came to the base, four floors down, much nearer the waterline of the loch. Here there were only two narrow windows, perhaps twenty feet above the surface of the water. The floor was of earth. The room was dim and smelled of damp soil and cool stone. He took up two blankets from the stack and tucked one into the cracks between the stones in the arch of the window embrasure.

She watched him block the light. “It might be more comfortable up a floor or two.”

“Th’ smell of th’ earth will help conceal us.”

“What need for one day? She is trapped by the daylight, too. We’ll go to Inverness as soon as the sun sinks behind the hills.” As he got another blanket in place, he turned, tripping over a stone half-buried in the earthen floor. He couldn’t see in the dark anymore.

“She’ll search Inverness,” he growled. “At least I hope sa.”

“Fort Augustus then, down the loch.”

He went still then. His gray-green eyes showed light in the darkness. His breath still came a little hard. He chewed his lip. “Jane…” he began, then couldn’t seem to go on.

“You do have a plan, don’t you?” Had she trusted him for nothing?

“Aye.” He wiped his hand over his mouth. “I want ye ta make me vampire again.”

“What?” She must not have heard him right.

“I know it’s a lot ta ask of ye,” he rushed on. “I’ll need blood after th’ first infection, but I’ll try ta get by with verra little. Three days, nae more.”

“But all we’ve wanted is to be cured.” She wasn’t sure which aspect of his plan she should protest first.

“I know. But that does no’ look verra likely now.”

“It’s too late for me, yes.” She let those words sink in. She was stranded. “But you are mortal again. Why would you give that up?” A part of her rose up in joy that she might not have to watch him grow old, that she wouldn’t be separated from him by her Companion and all it brought with it. Hope flared that if they were both vampire, they could take the tiny flowering of intimacy she had felt between them and turn it into … But she couldn’t trust to that. He’d never said he cared for her. It was wrong to assume anything.

But she found herself holding her breath, waiting to hear what he would say about why he wanted to give up his mortal state.

*   *   *

Callan heard the uncertainty in her voice, though her form was indistinct in the dimness. He
had
to get her to turn him. It was the only way to save her. How would he convince her? Her question was the crux of the matter. But he had no idea what to tell her. Emotions he hadn’t thought he owned anymore boiled up out of his belly and threatened to shut off his throat. If he told her he was doing it to save her she would never allow it. If he told her he loved her and wanted to be with her … she’d probably be appalled. She knew what he was, at least a glimpse of it. Elyta had told her. He had no right to claim her affections, she who was so intrinsically good.