Part 24 (1/2)
Lucern got the Internet chat program she had requested he get, and he often exchanged instant messages with Lady Barrow, Jodi and some of the other writers he had met at the conference, but while he had Kate on his list of contacts, she never appeared online. Jodi seemed to think she was blocking everyone. He considered sending her an e-mail, but couldn't think what to say. Instead, he sat at his desk, listening to time tick by as he watched and waited for her to appear online. Time was something he had a lot of.
It was nearly two weeks before he grew tired of waiting and watching. In disgust one morning, he turned the chat program off and opened his word-processing program. He thought he would make his first attempt at a work of fiction. Instead, he found himself recounting the story of his first meeting with Kate, then everything that followed that meeting.
It was a cathartic experience writing the book, like being there and reliving each moment. He laughed at some of the events he hadn't found funny at the time, like his codpiece getting caught on the tablecloth, and his frantic attempt to get condoms. He didn't laugh at her leaving, so that's was where he stopped the story he had ent.i.tled simply Kate.
He put his last entry in the story some few weeks after he began, then pushed wearily to his feet. He felt a little lighter than he had upon leaving the conference, but not much. He was grateful he had met and spent time with Kate Leever. He would always carry her in his heart. But he was both sad and angry that she hadn't given them a chance to have more.
He switched off his computer, glancing angrily at the answering machine on his desk. Lissianna, who had insisted they all needed one since they usually slept during the day when most business was done, had bought the machines for everyone last year at Christmas. Lucern hadn't bothered to listen to his messages in the past, but he had since returning home. He'd kept hoping that Kate would call, even if just to ask when he would have another book done.
But she hadn't called once. And none of the messages on the machine tonight were from her, either.
There was a message from his mother, and others from Lissianna, Bastien and Etienne. Lucern had been avoiding his family since returning from the conference, and while he knew they were worried about him, he didn't feel like talking. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, really, except for the people from the conference. He had met them all with Kate. Somehow, chatting to them over the computer made him feel closer to her. And sometimes Jodi or one of the other women had a bit of news about Kate that had made its way down the writers' grapevine. Nothing important though. She was editing so-and-so's book right now. She had rejected that model's book. She had a cold coming on.
She had fought it off.
Lucern ignored the blinking light of his answering machine and headed for his bedroom. His stomach was cramping with hunger, and his body was achy with the need for blood, but it seemed like a lot of effort to go downstairs and raid the fridge. He didn't even have the energy to undress. Luc simply walked into his room and collapsed on the bed. He'd sleep for a while, he decided. A long while. He'd feed later.
The sun was just rising when Lucern fell asleep; it had long gone down when he woke up. And the aching that had nagged at him when he lay down was much worse. He had to feed. Rolling out of bed, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He drained two bags of blood while standing in front of the refrigerator, then took another back upstairs. The bag was nearly empty when he entered his office-which was a good thing, since the sight of someone sitting at his desk startled him enough to spill the last few drops on the floor.
”Bastien.” He glared at his brother. ”What are you doing here?” He glanced at the computer screen and froze as he recognized the last chapter of Kate.
Bastien closed the word-processing program with a click, then offered an apologetic expression. ”I am sorry, Lucern.
I was worried about you. I just wanted to be sure you were all right. You have neglected to return calls from any of us, and won't visit or allow us to visit you. We were all worried, so I came to see what you were up to.”
”When did you get here?”
Bastien hesitated, then admitted, ”I came just after dawn.”
”You've been here all day? What...?” The question died in his throat. He knew exactly what Bastien had been doing. His brother had read all the way through the story of Kate, he'd read every word to the last page. Luc's gaze narrowed on the younger man. ”How did you know I would write it down?”
”You have always kept a journal, Luc-at least since paper became easier to come by. You always wrote things down. I often wondered if you didn't do so as a way of distancing yourself from it all. Like you do by shutting yourself away here.”
Lucern opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Neither of them would believe his denial, so why waste the effort? Turning away, he walked over and slumped onto the couch. He was silent for a moment, then scowled and asked, ”So, what do you think of my first work of fiction?”
Bastien's eyebrows rose, but he didn't call Lucern on the obvious lie. Instead he said, ”I think it's a very poor attempt at a romance.”
Lucern stiffened, affronted. ”Why?”
”Well...” Bastien began to play with the computer mouse on Lucern's desk. ”For one thing, the guy's an idiot.”
”What?” Lucern sat up straight.
”Well, sure.” Bastien's lips twitched. ”I mean, here's this all powerful, handsome, successful vampire writer, and he doesn't tell the girl he loves her. Heck, he doesn't even say he likes her.”
Lucern scowled. ”She left before he could. Besides, she didn't tell him, either.”
”Well, no. But why should she? Most of the time the guy's such a surly jerk, she's probably afraid to.” When Lucern merely glared at him, Bastien gave up all pretense. ”You should have followed her, Luc.”
”She wasn't interested. She was just doing her job.” ”I'm quite sure her job description didn't include sleeping with you. Or letting you feed off of her.”
”Bastien's right,” a new voice said from the doorway.
Both men glanced over in surprise. Marguerite Argeneau looked at her sons, then entered the room and moved to sit beside Lucern. She took his hands in hers, stared sadly into his eyes and said, ”You should go to her, Luc. You have waited six hundred years for Kate. Fight for her.”
”I can't fight for her. There is nothing to fight. She has no dragons to slay.”
”I didn't mean you should fight in that way,” Marguerite said impatiently. ”Besides, has that ever worked in the past? Gaining a woman's attention by slaying her dragons only makes her dependent. It isn't love, Lucern. That's why you never got the girl in the past. Kate doesn't need you to slay her dragons. Though she might welcome your help once in a while, she's strong enough to slay her own.”
”Then she doesn't need me, does she?” he pointed out sadly.
”No. She doesn't need you,” Marguerite agreed. ”Which leaves her free to truly love you. And she does love you, Lucern. Don't let her go.”
Lucern felt his heart skip with hope, then he asked warily, ”How could you know she loves me?”
”She was half in love with you before she ever met you. She came to love you fully while here.”
”How would you know?” Lucern persisted.
Marguerite sighed and admitted, ”I read her mind.”
He shook his head. ”Her mind is too strong. You couldn't have read it. I couldn't.”
”You couldn't read her mind because she was hiding it from you. Kate was attracted to you and afraid of it. As I said, she was half in love before she ever met you. That scared her. She closed her mind against it and therefore against you.”
Luc shook his head. ”How could she have been half in love with me? She didn't even know me.”
”Your books, Lucern.”
He shrugged impatiently. ”Lots of women think they're in love with me thanks to those d.a.m.n books-I saw them at that conference. They didn't know me at all.”
Marguerite sighed. ”Those women were attracted by your looks and success. Kate is different. She's your editor. She didn't believe in vampires, and wasn't smitten by your success. She fell for the real you. She recognized it from your writing.”
When Luc looked doubtful, his mother made a tsking sound. ”How could she not? You are just as surly and reclusive in real life as you were in the recounting of Etienne and Rachel's story or any of your other books. Your voice shone through. You were completely honest in those books, showing the good and the bad. In truth, you revealed more of yourself in your writing than you generally do in person, because you revealed your thoughts, which you usually keep hidden.”
Lucern still didn't believe it.
Marguerite borrowed a page from his book and scowled furiously. ”I am your mother, Lucern. You will trust me in this. I would never lead you astray.”
”Not deliberately,” he agreed. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Tears pooled in Marguerite's eyes, and Luc knew his mother wanted to banish the loss and sorrow from his past.
”Trust me, son,” she said. ”Please. Don't give up your happiness so easily. Your father did that. He grew weary of life and gave up on it, and nothing I could say or do could bring back that spark. You were precariously close to following in his footsteps. I have been worrying about you for some time. But Kate's arrival shook you up and brought joy back to your life.” She clasped his hand. ”Lucern, it was as if you were reborn. You smiled and actually laughed again. Kate could give you so much you've missed-a son or daughter, a companion, joy. Don't let your pride stand in the way.”
Lucern stared at his mother, her words revolving in his head along with another woman's. The psychic at the conference had said something very similar.