Secret Worlds (222 page)

One look at Michael, however, made it all worth it. He was radiant. She didn’t think she had ever seen a happier man. When they stood together at the altar, he had stared at her with so much unadulterated love and joy that she didn’t understand how it could possibly be directed at her. He hadn’t cared what church they were married in. Throughout his lifetimes, he had practiced in different denominations, some not even Christian. All he cared about was being wed before God.

“What are you thinking about?” The shine in Michael’s eyes hadn’t dissipated after the ceremony. They strolled hand in hand, taking their time making it back to their room. Tomorrow, they would have to leave.

“How happy I am. How I wish I could give you more, that this could be the start of a long life together.”

Michael’s hand gripped hers tighter. “It can, Amaia. Believe.”

She tried, but she felt the same. Shouldn’t she feel different? What was the big deal? A few words muttered and then all was fine for Michael’s conscience? She couldn’t pretend to understand it, but she would at least try to have faith that this would work to save Michael. Nothing else had.

Baden, March 1823, 1 year, 11 months later

Amaia stared through the window down at the street. Michael slept on the bed behind her. She spent a lot of time alone with her thoughts. She had never fully comprehended how much time humans spent asleep. Such precious time. They always longed for more of it, but each night they slept so much of it away. This morning, plenty of thoughts plagued her mind. Their lovemaking was incredible, but she knew it was only going to make his death more difficult. Every time they exchanged energies, he gathered more of her to take with him to the grave.

During the day, she believed. During the day, she had as much faith as a being unaccustomed to the feeling could muster. She tried to not only put on a brave front for Michael, but to actually believe that he wouldn’t die this time. Or, more accurately, not die so young. At night, though, when he slept, sweat cooling on his body, and she floated down from whatever heights he had sent her to, during those lonely hours until he woke, she worried, gave in to her natural fears and what her intellectual mind told her would happen.

Did Michael actually believe? He made it seem so easy. He was as sure of his plan to cheat death as he was of everything else in his life. When he was alone with his thoughts, behind the strong façade, did he actually believe it? Sometimes Amaia felt so small, like the mortals she often mocked. What was so different about them except that she would be on Earth longer?

“Good morning, beautiful.” Michael’s voice was thick with sleep behind her, but distinctly happy. She always knew that, come morning, Michael would save her from herself. He was her salvation and damnation wrapped up in one.

“Good morning.” Amaia went to the bed and plopped down beside him, tracing her finger along his chest, watching the gooseflesh rise in her wake. She never heated her skin when they were alone. In private, she didn’t feel the need to pretend to be something she wasn’t. She was secure in the knowledge that he loved her authentic self. “How’d you sleep?”

“Quite well.”

“Good.”

“And what were you thinking about so intently this morning?”

“You don’t want to know.” Amaia rolled onto her back, only to have Michael wrap his arm around her and pull her close.

“Yes, I do. You can tell me anything.”

Amaia sighed. She didn’t want to ruin the time they had left. “You don’t have much longer.”

“What are you talking about?”

Amaia’s eyes snapped to his. “Don’t, Michael. Don’t insult me like that. This is hard for me.”

“And you don’t think it’s been hard for me all these years? I can’t bear the thought of leaving you. But that’s not going to happen this time. You must believe that.”

“I try, Michael. I just wish I knew.”

“That’s impossible. We can’t know. All we can do is hope and have faith.”

“We could have a plan.”

“What do you mean?”

Amaia propped herself up on her elbow. “A plan for what we’re going to do if you die. If this doesn’t work, Michael, I don’t want you to feel obligated to be with me the next time.”

“Don’t be absurd, Amaia. I’ve tried living without you and gained no satisfaction. I would be happy to die a hundred more deaths if it meant living a hundred more lives with you.”

“You came with me this time without really knowing what it would be like. Now you know. If you die again, you’ll leave this life of constant running. You’ll enter a new life that may be much better. At least it will be more peaceful. Realistically, I can’t expect you to keep entering a cycle where you have to spend your adult years running for your life.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“It’s approaching. Fast. You only have a few days.”

“If we make a plan, will you promise me you’ll push it from your mind and enjoy the next few days with me?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“All right then, what’s your plan?”

She had really hoped that he’d be the one to come up with it. Just because she wanted one didn’t mean she had any idea what it should be. There was the one signal they had used in the past. She supposed that would be the simplest, if for no other reason than it would be the easiest to remember. “How about on your twentieth birthday, if you want to see me, you’ll put two lit candles in your window?”

Michael smiled at the memory. “Why my twentieth? Why not sooner?”

“It’s always been a delicate balance for me, deciding when to approach you. Too young, and it’s too strange to feel such a connection to a boy. Too old, and I’ve wasted time. In this case, I need to be sure that you’ve had plenty of time, plenty of opportunity, to seriously consider alternatives. If I come earlier, you won’t entertain thoughts of other women. I need to know that you’re making your choice with all the facts, knowing all your options.”

“All right.”

“This way, I can come that one night and check. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll leave and never see you again. It won’t hurt my feelings if you choose not to, Michael. I want you to be happy.”

Michael cupped her face in his hand in his familiar and tender way. “Yes, it will hurt your feelings. Or at least I hope it would. But don’t worry, I understand your point.”

“Promise me you’ll do what’s best for you.”

“I promise. Now, can we put all talk of this away? I want to go swimming in the hot springs with you today.”

Michael straddled her and tickled her ribs, sending her into fits of laughter. She had never been ticklish before, but her skin’s sensitive reaction to Michael’s touch made her so. It felt good to laugh, to see Michael’s face smiling down on her. She wanted it to last forever, but in the back of her mind, she knew it wouldn’t.

***

The crisp, cool air invigorated Amaia. They’d spent much of the last few days at the hot springs, and now they enjoyed a pleasant stroll while the sun stood at its zenith, struggling to send its warmth through the chill. Amaia’s hand was warm inside Michael’s. They didn’t need to talk. The peaceful silence between them was sublime. There was no one else in the world Amaia felt this way around.

“I’m getting better at masking my energy. There’s a chance we could settle down a little longer in one place.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve waited to tell you until I was certain.”

“That’s wonderful, Amaia.” Michael stopped and planted a firm kiss on her lips. She never tired of those kisses. They were always urgent, communicating his desire, while at the same time being forever patient, as if they had a thousand years ahead of them. “We could get a house somewhere, have a real life together.”

They continued walking. “Well, it won’t be the same as if I were mortal. We won’t be able to have children.”

“I don’t care about that. I never did. All I’ve ever wanted is you.”

“I just hope I’m enough.” She found it intimidating, being the sole focus of his love.

“Of course you are. You’ve always been this way, never believing that I really love you as much as I say I do.”

“I believe you, Michael. I just think maybe your love blinds you to some things.”

Michael turned her to face him. “I know you, Amaia. You’re mine. I see you for exactly who you are.”

“You’re the only one who ever has.” Amaia placed a hand on his chest, convincing herself she could feel his strong heartbeat through his layers of clothing. “I was thinking we should talk about where we want to settle. We could make friends.”

“I’d like that, showing you off to everyone.”

“What kind of work would you like to do?”

“I trained as a cobbler.”

“You’re not restrained to the skills you learned in this life.”

Michael laughed. “No, but we’d be living in town, around plenty of people so you could get the energy you need.”

“It doesn’t bother you, me sucking energy from people?”

“No. It can’t. I need you to stay strong. It’s better than the alternative. But if you don’t want to live in the city, we could live on the outskirts, close enough for it to be easy for you to feed, but far enough away that you don’t have to deal with all of us lowly mortals.”

“I’m happy anywhere, as long as you are. Where would you want to live? What city?”

“I don’t know. Do you have any favorites?” Michael pulled her in front of him with her back to his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

“Paris. It’s always been Paris for me.”

He brushed her hair behind her ear and placed a kiss on her neck. “Sometimes I wish we had run away together to Paris when you asked me to before I died the first time.”

“You mean before I killed you?”

“Before you were manipulated into killing me? Yes. So it lived up to your expectations?”

Amaia nodded as she skipped ahead of him then turned to face him, still holding his hand as she walked backward. “You’ll love it. Notre Dame is gorgeous. Do you think you could remember your French from when you lived in Calais?”

“How’d you know I lived in Calais?” Michael’s brow furrowed.

“I was there the day you were born. It was the first time I saw you as a child.”

“I had no idea. Well, yes, I think I can recall enough French to get by if it hasn’t changed too much, and I’m sure I’ll become fluent again with a little practice.”

“Good. Then we can try it for a time, see if you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. I want you to show me everything you love about it.”

“It will take us about two days to get there, less if you’ll let me carry you on my back.”

“I hate doing that. It’s not—” Michael clasped his chest with his right hand. “Ugh.”

“No!” She had been trying. She had almost convinced herself it wouldn’t happen. When his energy spiked, she calmed it, soothing the frantic jumps. It did nothing. She had been a fool to hope it would work. “Michael, no!”

Michael fell to his knees, and Amaia followed him, sitting behind him, easing him down into her lap.

“Amaia, I love you.”

“Don’t. You can tell me later. Please, don’t leave me, Michael.” She had meant to be strong. She had meant to make this easier on him. Intentions meant nothing now. “I need you.”

“I’ll see you later. We have a date, remember?”

Even though his words were hopeful, the sadness in his eyes wrenched Amaia’s insides. He deserved better. “Yes, I remember. Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”

“Good.”

And then he was gone. Just like that, life left him. Amaia couldn’t contain it anymore. She sobbed, tearless, rocking back and forth, clutching his body to her. She hoped a god waited for him.

Baden, March 1823

Slouching away from the fresh grave with the little cross made out of sticks, Amaia didn’t know what to do with the next almost twenty-one years.

Without a plan in mind, she made her way back to their current boardinghouse. Their room held few personal belongings. They preferred to travel light. Amaia didn’t want to take anything of Michael’s. It wouldn’t make it any easier. She decided to leave it all except her purse and left. She couldn’t stay where they had just been laughing and talking earlier in the day.

It was dusk when she stepped onto the street. She didn’t know where she headed, only that it was away. Hunger pains pierced her stomach. Now that Michael wasn’t around, she was free to drink blood again. Her mouth watered at the thought. It had been so long since she had felt the hot, thick, tanginess slide down her throat. It would warm her, bring her comfort. Even before she had sworn off blood completely, she hadn’t been able to enjoy a kill. She had gone soft in deference to Michael’s squeamishness.

A part of Amaia that she hadn’t entertained in years was eager to come forward. Already, she felt the fear of her potential victim excite her. It had been so very long. Anyone would do. There was no need to be picky. The first human she came across who was alone and looked like he wouldn’t be missed much would be hers for the taking.

She scanned the street, but all she saw was a pair of gray eyes. Since she had been with Michael in the flesh, the haunting had ceased. The return of his eyes was not welcome. She knew she could never kill again if she would have to see those eyes. Michael would be disappointed in her. He never needed to find out.

But she would know. She supposed if killing was out, then so too was feeding. In one moment, she realized that she would never again taste human blood on her lips if Michael accepted her. She couldn’t. Her heart was Michael’s. She would honor him.

Amaia continued feeding off the energy of the people around her. Knowing she did it for noble, altruistic reasons did nothing to make it any more satisfying. Maybe in Michael’s next life, if they were together, she would insist he give up all meat and subsist on just vegetables. She had a feeling she would develop a deep moral conviction against the killing of animals for food.

***

Three years of subsisting off of energy alone had not been pleasant. If she couldn’t be with Michael, she wished she didn’t have to be around humans at all. As it was, she spent a fair amount of time in cities and villages. She hadn’t had an encounter with a vampire since Michael’s death. Perhaps Zenas had forgotten about her. Even if he had, though, she knew Lawrence hadn’t. He never would.