She blew out a sigh. So many things she had taken for granted that were forever lost to her.
But there is so much to learn, love. So much to see and explore. A whole new world is out there, waiting for you.
She sniffed back her tears.I’ll find it on my own, thank you.
Shannah, don’t let your anger keep us apart, not now. I’m not asking you to forgive me, only to let me help you until you’re ready to be on your own. You don’t have any place to go. Stay in the house. Sleep in my lair, if it pleases you, or make one of your own.
I can’t stay here.She dried her tears on a corner of the bedspread.Where will you stay?
You needn’t worry about me. Please, love, keep the house. I’ve taken everything else from you.
Let me give you something in return.
I don’t think…
Shannah.His voice was stern now, a loving father speaking to a stubborn and rebellious child.Keep the clothes. Keep the damn house. I don’t want it anymore.
Why not?
It was only a home when you shared it with me. Now it’s just a house. I’ll find a new lair.
She didn’t want to take anything from him, but he was right. She had no place else to stay except that smelly old warehouse, and that wasn’t as safe as his basement lair. And she had grown to love the house…And darn it, he did owe her something for what he had done.
I’ll stay, for a little while,she said.Thank you.
Will you let me help you?
She wanted to say no. She didn’t want his help. She never wanted to see him again. She was being childish, and she knew it. And, darn him, he was right again. He could make her transition from mortal to vampire so much easier.
Shannah?
All right.
Just say when.
Whenever it’s convenient for you.
Tonight?She heard the underlying note of longing in his voice.
No. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hurrying right over, didn’t want him to think she was anxious to see him or worse, that she missed him.Tomorrow night will be soon enough.
All right, Shannah. Have it your way.
She started to answer him, but knew it was useless. He had withdrawn from her mind and closed the door behind him. She tried to slip past his defenses, but he was blocking her thoughts.
She was surprised by how much it hurt to know he was blocking her. She tried not to think of him while she put her underwear and nightgowns back in the dresser, or while she filled the tub with water, or while she relaxed in a hot bubble bath, but it was impossible. She should have known it would be impossible to forget him as long as she stayed here, in his house. It was here that he had sheltered her and cared for her when she was sick, here that he had kissed her. Her toes curled with the memory of his kisses. No mere joining of lips had ever been as tumultuous, as arousing, or as satisfying.
She lifted a hand to her neck. The skin tingled where he had bitten her. Somehow, the thought that he had taken her blood wasn’t as repulsive as it had been a few days ago.
And she had taken his. Why didn’t the idea disgust her the way it once had? She felt her hunger stir to life at the memory, felt her fangs brush her tongue. Why did she suddenly find herself wanting to taste him again?
“Why, indeed?” she muttered wryly. “Does the word ‘vampire’ ring a bell?”
Like it or not, her life had changed, she had changed. And she knew it was only the beginning.
She stayed in the tub until the water grew cool. Putting on her nightgown and robe, she went downstairs, plucked one of Ronan’s books from the shelf, and curled up on the sofa to read.
The vampire bent over Miranda’s neck, his eyes blazing, his fangs gleaming in the light of the full moon.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Do it now. I’m not afraid.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “You must be sure.”
“As sure as I’ve ever been about anything in my life,” Miranda said, forcing a brave smile.
With a nod, the vampire wrapped her in his dark embrace. There was no turning back now for either of them.
She moaned softly as his fangs pierced the tender skin of her throat.
He drank deeply, drank until she hovered between life and death, and then, with a groan, he tore open his own wrist and held it to her lips.
“Drink,” he said. “You must drink, quickly.”
So, Shannah thought, that was how it was done. That was how she had become a vampire. It wasn’t the vampire’s bite that made the transformation. He had drained her of blood, taken her to the point of death, and then poured his life into her.
Interesting, she thought, and turned the page.
She dressed with care the following night, choosing a pair of silky black slacks and a dark blue sweater. She brushed her hair until it crackled, spritzed herself with perfume, then looked in the mirror to apply her makeup. She could see the shower behind her, the towels on the rack, the door into the bedroom, and nothing else. How could she have forgotten that she would never see her reflection in a mirror again? It was as if she had been wiped from existence and memory. Shannah was gone and what remained was an abomination.
She stared at the mirror for a long time, her stomach in knots.
It was true. She was a vampire. She had known it before, of course, there was no longer any denying it, but it was suddenly a cold, hard fact, one she felt in the deepest part of her being.
Vampire.
Undead.
She remembered reading somewhere—had it been in one of Ronan’s books?—that vampires cast no reflection because they had no soul. Could that be true? Had she lost her soul as well as her humanity?
She felt different, inside and out, there was no doubt of that, but she wasn’t a soulless monster, was she? She was still Shannah.
Wasn’t she?
Her makeup forgotten, she went downstairs to wait for Ronan.
Ronan paused outside the front door of the house where he had lived for the past seventy years. He hadn’t had a case of nerves like this in over five centuries. How could he bear the hatred he was sure to see in her eyes? Maybe he was making a mistake. He’d had no one to ease his way into his preternatural life. He had learned what he needed to know to survive as a vampire on his own. No doubt Shannah could do the same. But he could not abandon Shannah as Rosalyn had so callously abandoned him.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.
Moments later, Shannah stood before him, looking more lovely than he had ever seen her.
“Come in,” she said, her voice cool, aloof.
He followed her into the living room, sat where she indicated.
A taut silence stretched between them.
“You must have questions,” he said at last.
“Have I lost my soul, Ronan? Am I damned now?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I looked in a mirror. There was no one there.”
It was a frightening experience. He remembered the first time it had happened to him, the sick feeling in his gut, the sense of loss.
“Am I damned, Ronan?”
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “But I don’t think so. What have you done to deserve damnation? You didn’t ask to be a vampire. If anyone is damned, it’s me.”
For all that she hated him for what he had done, the thought of his being forever damned distressed her more than it should have.
“Questions,” he repeated. “You must have others.”
“What? Oh, yes, but I don’t know where to start.”
“As you already know, your sense of sight and hearing are vastly increased. This holds true for all of your senses. You have many powers,” he went on. “Some of them you’re already aware of. Others will come to you in time. Some of them, like dissolving into mist, seem impossible or unbelievable, but you can master them all, with practice. You can move so fast as to be virtually invisible to mortal eyes. You can change your shape…”
“What do you mean?”
“You can assume the shape of animals.”
“Like a bat?” she asked, remembering all the old Dracula movies she had seen.
“A bat?” he asked, obviously amused. “Why would you want to be a bat?”
“I don’t know. In the movies…”
“Ah, the movies. I don’t know if you can turn into a bat. I’ve never tried. Much easier to turn into something larger, like a wolf. As I was saying, you have many supernatural abilities. You can climb up the side of buildings as easily as a spider, call people to you, mesmerize them with a look, wipe your memory from their minds. If you get hurt, you will heal almost immediately.
Few things, save the sun or pure silver, can do you serious harm.”
“What about garlic and being unable to enter a church, and stuff like that?”
He shook his head. “Stoker and the Hollywood crowd are responsible for all that nonsense.”
“And a stake through the heart?”
“That will destroy you as surely as the sun.”
She regarded him a moment. “I want to see you dissolve into mist.”
He nodded and then, almost before she could blink, he was gone and in his place there was a shimmering mist of silver-gray motes. She felt her heart skip a beat as the mist moved over her until it surrounded her. Warmth engulfed her and with it, a feeling of pure love. She felt bereft when it floated away, then hovered in the center of the room.
A moment later, Ronan stood before her again.
“Unbelievable is right,” she murmured. “But how do you do it?”
“Mind over matter, that’s all it is. You think it, believe it, do it.”
Closing her eyes, Shannah pictured herself turning into a mist of pale pink motes. At first, she felt nothing and then, abruptly, she felt lighter than air. Looking down, she saw that her body had disappeared and that she was hovering in the air over her chair. She could see and hear, but everything seemed hazy and far away. She willed herself toward Ronan, let herself brush against him. It was an odd sensation. She was aware of sliding over something solid but she had no sense of actually touching him. She drifted around the room, thinking how odd it felt to be weightless and without form, yet able to think and observe. She floated up to the ceiling and stayed there for a few minutes, just because she could. Was this what it felt like to be a ghost, she wondered, or was it perhaps the way one’s soul felt when it left the body on its journey toward heaven. Or hell.
