Part 48 (1/2)
Maggie arched a brow. He shook his head. ”Sophia isn't wearing the talisman, but I know she has it. She's going back to it for her strength; she's using it to heal Darian when he's wounded. I have to find it somehow.”
”Is it in New Orleans?”
”I don't know.”
”Jade is in the cafeteria,” Maggie said. Lucian shook his head after a moment. ”No... not anymore. She's gone to the chapel, thinking I won't be able to follow.”
The chapel was modern and universal. The floors were white; the pews were brown. There was an abstract stained-gla.s.s window, and a simple altar. Jade was half sitting, half kneeling in the first pew, staring at the altar. She had prayed-for Liz, for Rick.
And for herself.
Or she had tried to. She had lost track of her prayer; her mind had just gone in circle after circle.
She was startled when Lucian sat down beside her.
”I didn't think you could come here.”
He shrugged. ”Some can.”
She nodded after a moment. ”Oh, I see. You're a good vampire, right?”
He shook his head. ”No, I'm not a good vampire. I've told you- I've had my moments of extreme violence and ... cruelty.”
”But you're in here.”
”Maybe because I do believe in G.o.d,” he said simply.
”There should be someplace you can't come.”
”I can't go inside anyone's home or life without being invited.”
”I invited you?” she queried.
”Loudly,” he a.s.sured her.
She looked away from him. ”What happens if Liz or Rick dies?” she demanded.
He hesitated. ”Both are doing well.”
”But they have been attacked, right? I mean, obviously I wasn't sure I believed all this stuff at first, but... that is why you checked them both out-for fang marks, right?”
”Yes,” he said flatly. ”If that's the way you want to put it.”
”If they do die,” she demanded harshly, ”do they become raving, maniacal killers?”
”No. If they die, we sever their head,” he returned, his voice as hard as hers.
She was shaking suddenly. ”I hate you. I hate that you walked into my life. I hate what you've done to everyone around me.” She looked at him. ”And I want you to just go away.”
He was very still. ”I can't,” he said simply.
”Yes, you can. You walk out of here and you go wherever you've been for the past centuries.”
”Jade, I can't change what you mean to me.”
”Surely you can! You're going to tell me that there haven't been dozens, maybe hundreds, of women in your very long life-or death?
What makes me any different? I am not your wife, in the flesh, in a dream, in reincarnation-out of the sea. I'm not her. You loved her, you lost her. But there have been others, obviously. The woman from the de Brus story, Maggie Canady. They're all part of your past. Let me be the past as well. Just go. Walk away.”
”Jade, I can't risk your life.”
”My life isn't yours to risk! It's my own,” she told him. She was suddenly close to tears, overtired and overwrought, worried. About Liz.
About Rick.
About the future.
She had invited him in. Loudly. Yes. Something had happened that night in Edinburgh between them. Since he had touched her, she couldn't stand being away from him. She needed him. Needed the way his dark eyes touched her. Needed to lean against him when he stood tall and rocklike beside her. She loved his laugh, his strength, the tone of his voice....
And he lived in a tomb.
”You can have your life back,” he said, a very cool tone to his voice, ”when I can be sure that you're going to have a life to live.”
She didn't reply. She lowered her head.
He stood up and reached down a hand to her. ”Come on,” he said huskily.
”Where?” she whispered.
”To tell your folks we'll be back later.”
”And then?”
”You're going to stay with your friends and see if the pen-or the Internet-is mightier than the sword. Under no circ.u.mstances should you invite anyone else into your apartment. Not the cable man, the electric man, the phone woman-no one. Understand? And you don't leave until I get there.”
”Where will you be?”
”Ashes to ashes,” he said softly. ”I'm going where my strength is greatest, and I'm going to sleep-perchance to dream.”