Part 29 (1/2)

She willed her soul outside the box, and as she watched, fascinated even after centuries by her power, her body thinned to a mist that leaked from the lid of her marble coffin and swirled around her, slowly taking form.

”It is the soul that gives substance to the body,” Illona had told her the first night of her second life. ”To destroy us completely, someone must also destroy our soul.”

”Can that be done?” Karina asked.

”With great difficulty. Perhaps someday you will learn how.”

”I don't want to know,” Karina said, for at the time even the strange half-life of her new existence seemed preferable to death.

”Time has a way of twisting perspective.” Illona laughed, throwing back her head as she did. The sight of her teeth, so long and white, made Karina shake with the memory of her human fear.

Then time had done exactly what Illona had predicted. Karina, who had longed to be free of her estates and her duties, had been trapped in the castle for over a hundred years. Often, she willed herself to sleep through the nights as well as days until hunger made any rest impossible. But tonight she had risen eagerly, as she had last night. Someone was here, someone who gave more than blood and life.

A shard of hope.

So much that her human body had valued was lost to Karina now, yet surprisingly much still remained. Human comforts-the need for warmth and the pleasure of food and drink-meant nothing, but the trappings of human life took on a more profound meaning, as if by reclaiming them she could somehow reclaim a part of her lost humanity.

When had she last worn a new gown? Or listened to music? Or danced? Or laughed! Once the clothes had been possible. Now it had been months since the gypsies had camped near to the castle bringing with them bolts of cloth and beads and delicate lace.

And when they had, they'd danced and sang in their encampments, never coming within the castle walls unless Dracula himself summoned them. Now he was gone. They would never come again.

And so this Englishman's presence took on a deeper meaning for Karina.

Lord Gance could give her all she desired and more; he said as much. And he had known what she was and shown no fear when she kissed him. Strange, magnificently strange.

Though as cautious as all her kind, she went to him as soon as she woke, eager for his touch.

He slept. She moved through him, imagining herself mortal for a moment-warm, breathing softly. The heartbeat that was so imperceptible to the human senses seemed so clear to her in its soft and steady march towards death.

She pulled away and, hovering above him, drew her body over her soul like a cloak. Her fingers brushed Gance's lips; her hand moved under his loose s.h.i.+rt and up his bare chest. She called his name.He opened his eyes and looked up at her, smiling when he recognized her, lifting his head so their lips could touch. ”Last night?”

he asked.

Breath was needed to speak. She paused, inhaled and said, ”Last night was a test, a dream. Tonight will be real.”

”Can I be certain?”

She smiled because she knew the sight of her teeth would please him, would convince him of her nature. ”Certain? Is my power that great?”

”If you were the one who controlled last night's visions, it is.”

Those had not been visions, and she hadn't been alone. She saw no reason to remind him of that. Instead she asked, ”Will I be Lady Gance if I let you share my life?”

”Lady Gance should have a grander chamber for her wedding night,” he replied.

”So should a lord. Come with me.”

She took his hand, and he followed her on faith through the darkness of the outer hall and up a winding staircase in the tower. If he had not gripped her cold fingers so tightly, he would have believed himself alone, for only his footsteps sounded on the stairs, only his breathing hissed in the stillness of the dark.

He climbed past the pale shadows of open doors, past drafts from open windows. A bat skittered by his face, one leathery wing brus.h.i.+ng his cheek before it swept on, following the cold draft toward the night sky.

At the next turn, she led him into a room. As they entered, the fire flared, revealing a s.p.a.ce that still held all the beauty of its medieval past.

Candles were lit everywhere, illuminating the wealth contained here. Gold chains circled the velvet-draped bedposts. Ta.s.seled pillows covered the velvet-draped bed. Fur rugs lay scattered on the slate floor, and a s.h.i.+eld nearly the height of a man hung above the hearth. Beneath it, a thick sword that seemed even longer was mounted on pegs. Its polished bra.s.s hilt seemed to be waiting for someone to grasp it, though Gance wondered what man could wield so huge a weapon.

He heard her indrawn breath, listened as she said, ”His sword. Even now, after so many centuries, I can smell the blood on it.”

”Where is he?”

A pause, another indrawn breath. ”Gone.”

”Dead?”

Emotion flared, glowing red in the depths of her sapphire eyes, but he could not tell if it was anger or triumph. ”Gone! Gone beyond the realm where he can touch any of us, but do not a.s.sume that a will such as his can be vanquished.” She walked to the center of the room, threw up her hands and pirouetted to music vivid only in her memory.

And laughed, rippling waves of mirth that he could feel brus.h.i.+ng his body. ”Shall I be your partner at our dances? Shall I sing for our guests?”

”Sing for me.”

Eyes closed, head bowed, she let the music grow in the silence of her memories, then lifted her chin and began.

He had expected something childish. Instead she picked an old Hungarian folk tune about a couple who had just met, pledging their love for a lifetime and beyond. The irony of her choice did not escape him, and her singing voice was not as he expected. It had a deep, trained richness that her speech lacked.

When she'd finished, he pulled a green silk scarf from his pocket and handed it to her. She unfolded it carefully and saw a gold ring in the middle, with an emerald of deep clarity, the fire in its center visible even in the dim light. ”It is yours, Karina, a sample of all the gifts I will give if you let me share your life.”

She cupped it in her hand, watching the emerald flicker in the firelight. ”No one has given me a gift for so many years.”

”Share your life,” he repeated. ”And I will take you from this place.”

”It isn't so simple, my lord. If only it were.”

”You know the way.” He held her in a manner that no mortal who knew her nature had ever held her before, his face close to hers, ready for her kiss.

”And if I could bring only death to you, would you rescue me anyway?””Death is coming soon enough,” he responded. Hints of anguish in his tone convinced her that he spoke the truth.

”Poor mortal,” she whispered, and stroked his cheek. The bed, as he had expected, was luxuriously soft. As they fell together onto it, she kissed him. He found himself astonished at the intensity of his response.

He had made love so many times before, but never to a woman as exotic as this. The countess Karina was soft, voluptuous in a youthful way he knew so well. Her scent was sweet-hyacinth and narcissus. Yet there was no heat to her body, no breath quickening at his touch. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were flawless, but if he rested his head on them, he would hear no heartbeat. She had died long ago, moving beyond any pleasure his touch could give. The thought would not leave him, and he fought down a sudden surge of revulsion, of fear.

”Do not tempt me,” she whispered. ”Fear brings death. Love me instead.”

Her eyes were hungry for the life he offered her, as hungry he was for her eternal existence. ”I will,” he whispered and kissed her again.

She broke away, moved her lips to his neck. ”So soon?” he asked.

”Your pa.s.sion is my pa.s.sion, my lord. I cannot respond, I can only echo.”