As the turbulence worsens, I turn to him. I don't know what I think he'll do - save us from crashing? If he's some sort of fallen angel, I feel certain he has powers to do such a thing, and I can't help but hope he will, almost willing to beg him to stop this, stop this terrifyingdescent.
"Do something," I whisper, closing myeyes.
He squeezes my hand again and after a very long moment, I feel the plane level out, slowly at first, then more rapidly until we're almost level. I open my eyes and look into his pale ones – he's been watching me. He doesn't smile; he doesn't say anything. Just lets go of my hand, but before he does, a sense of familiarity sweeps through me at his touch. I can't identify it, but it feels as if I know him. When he turns back to his closed briefcase, to retrieve his document, I understand the source of thefeeling.
He's the RiverMan.
Soren puts down his paper and unfastens his belt. He picks up his snifter and then retrieves the bottle of cognac, pouring more for himself and then coming to my side, standing directly in front of me holding the bottle up. "More?" heasks.
I look away, the realization that he's the killer filling me withdread.
"I said, did you want somemore?"
I nod. The liquid sloshes in the crystal glass and I drink it down quickly. He then fills it once again and sits backdown.
I drink that down, too, and lean back, the warmth of the liquor comforting, heat burning down my throat and in my belly. We sit in silence for the rest of the trip, Soren reading his documents. My mind is unable to be blank, and I wonder if he'll let me go. Will he let me leave the plane, return to Michel or will I be acaptive?
I remember the dark wing-like shadows that spread out from his shoulders from the previous day. I've always accepted that there are such things as vampires. Am I now going to have to accept that there are also fallenangels?
The liquor makes me drowsy and I must have fallen asleep for when I blink awake, we're descending towards a small airport nearBoston.
"See," Soren says. "That wasn't so bad. I let you sleep. I figured you needed it after everything that'shappened."
Once the plane taxis off the runway and over to the terminal, we disembark into the dusk, the sun having justset.
I follow him, watching the way he exudes confidence, as if he owns the world. We reach the entrance to the hangar and there's a limo waiting for me, the driver at the opendoor.
Soren extends his hand to me and I'm glad that I've put my gloves back on before we left the plane. Yet, I hesitate. I feel like a fraud to be shaking his hand, as if we're just a couple of professionals who shared a flight and are notenemies.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly, turning my face away from him. "I can't pretend to be your friend, considering who I am and what you are and that you have both Michel and Julien in yourcontrol."
"Oh, Eve," he chuckles, putting his briefcase down and grabbing me in a hug. I feel stiff, startled to be pulled into his embrace. "You think you know what I am," he whispers in my ear, his cheek pressed against mine. He squeezes me tightly, one hand going to the small of my back, pulling me against his body. "But you're wrong. You don't even know what youare."
He slips a hand into my jacket pocket and I feel something hard and heavy slide to the bottom of it, clinking against my keys and change. Then he kisses my cheeks, one after the other, his tongue touching my skin the way Michel kissed me, and he's off, his briefcase inhand.
I watch the swell of people close around him as he makes his way into the terminal. He's tall enough that I can watch him, his pale head bobbing above the crowd. He makes such a striking figure with his white skin such a contrast against his dark clothing. I see him bend down to someone and hear his deep mellow voice laugh out loud, jovial, full ofexuberance.
I slide my hand in my pocket and pull out a piece of fired red clay, cuneiform lettering stamped into its surface and a figure carved on it in relief. It appears to be a piece of broken pottery.Egyptian? Or even earlier – Mesopotamia? The figure depicts a half-lion half-bird. I rub my thumb over the rough edge of the semi-circular piece of clay. Soren has given me a clue of some kind - he wants me to know who or what he is. He claims to know my trueidentity.
My mind turns these facts around as I step into the limousine for my drive back to Boston and Michel, wondering whether I'll see him tonight. When I'm almost home, I get a text from Ed, telling me I can take the rest of the night off and just gohome.
Thank God. I feel like crap after that hellish flight, the cognac and the stress of being withSoren.
All I really want to do is go home and have a hot bath, then go to bed. Soren, the case and this whole business with Michel and Julien will be there in themorning.
* * *
Chapter 14
"The heart wants what it wants."
EmilyDickenson
Once back at my apartment, I run a hot bath, needing to soak the chill out of me. Rain pelts at my window and I wonder when the storm will break and we'll finally get nice weather. I fill the tub with bubbles and a drop of my perfume that Michel liked so much, then lie back in the tub and relax, trying to blank my mind of everything and just let the heat soothe me. Of course, I can't blank my mind. I'm on edge from the trip with Soren, wanting to speak to Michel about it, find out if he was compelled and what he thinks about the meeting, but I'm exhausted and a bit lethargic from the cognac on theplane.
Of course, I can't keep my mind blank and it moves back to Michel. I no longer know what I feel about anything. I thought I'd be doing my mother's life work, finding a magic bullet to kill all vampires so I could get my revenge and eradicate their plague from the face of the earth. Instead, I'm falling in love with one and all I want is to have him, to be his, to be whatever I can be to him and it feels like a betrayal of my mother andmyself.
Michel and Julien are not what I thought about when I imagined vampires. I saw them as monsters, evil, bloodsuckers. Instead, I see them now as humans who met a tragic end that didn't kill them. Now, they must face an eternity addicted to blood and trapped by night, their senses heightened, acutely aware of everything – sound, sight, scent, touch, their emotions magnified. They have forever to regret their mistakes, superior to humans in strength and senses, and yet loving us – loving that which they inevitably either kill or watch die from oldage.