Chapter Thirty-Five
DAHLIA
That wasn't what she'd expected. Dahlia thought her admission would result in him lunging for a spike, forcing her to make him the first victim of her revenge. Instead he offered that, and she didn't know what to do.
"You can't help." It was the best she had.
Thane shrugged. "I'm still going to. See, the problem is that I believe you. Your story makes a lot more sense than theirs. Oh sure, it's not as easy to follow, what with all the chemistry and physics and shit, but it does make sense." He caressed her cheek one last time. "I also owe those bastards for killing my mom."
"What?" She jerked up, sitting straighter. "Your mom?"
"They said she was possessed - which was why I asked about that. I think she dared to use the power of God, and they knew."
Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "The magic? She spoke a Word?"
This time, he was the one with the distrustful glance. "How do you know what they're called?"
"Because your kind have used them on me enough. Bubbles around space? Waves of pain. Sounds that drain our vitality. Remember that big fight where your brother almost kicked my ass? Why do you think..." She paused. "You know, I shoved my tongue down your throat that first night because I thought you were going to use one on me."
"That's why you kissed me?"
She dismissed that. "Not the very first time. Just after I felt the ward. Had to stop you somehow, and it was expedient."
"And here I was hoping you kinda liked it."
"Pig," she teased. "Of course I liked it. I also - " She jerked to her feet. "Thane, are you tired?"
"It is like three in the morning."
"No! I mean, your vitality. You said the last time I was real was earlier today. We had sex and I refueled almost completely. Now you just called me again and I fed on your blood? Twice, in the same night?"
"Stamina of youth?" He shrugged, looking confused.
She grunted in frustration. "Don't you get it? You should be damned near dead, but you're not even really tired."
"Not following."
"Ok." She pointed at the silver stakes. "Put those out of my sight, please." Then she started pacing the narrow line at the foot of both beds. "After we die the first time, our bodies and souls are not permanently connected. The flesh I wear is a real body. That means I can eat, but it's not what keeps me alive." She took a breath, her eyes on the floor as her mind spun. "The soul requires the energy of life. That thing that separates synthetic molecules from bacteria. The power that science still doesn't understand. Doesn't matter how the energy is formed, but we need it to replace the power we lose as we do undead stuff."
While she talked, he picked up the spikes. The sound of them clanking together made her look, but he just put them back in the bag, then he tossed it toward the bathroom sink. "Ok, thermodynamics or something."
"Something," she agreed. "But energy can neither be created nor destroyed. The first time you chased me, you knocked me off my feet. That hasn't happened since 1682."
"You remember the date, huh?"
She gave him a look that could kill. "It's not a common thing. Plus, I'm pretty sure you weren't trying too hard, but you've done it more than once. Your brother is the only other person who's been able to do it. Now, here you are telling me that you're not that tired."
"Wouldn't mind a nap. What are you getting at, Dahlia?"
"That you're a damned walking battery." She stopped in front of him. "Just look at me."
He obeyed. Standing toe to toe, he was taller than her, but not by much. He was broader, and the smile on his face hinted where his mind was going, but all she had time to think about was the flare of light in his eyes. The light that always came just before a Word.
"What do you see?" he asked.
"Power."
He shifted closer. "But what do you see? To me there is nothing. I want to know what it looks like."