Part 8 (2/2)

”And you were making fun of me.”

”What does that mean?” Jessica asked.

”I was about to suggest that the two of you get a room,” Stacey teased.

Jessica shook her head. ”Stacey, I was at the other end of the table all night.”

”Yes. And it was like an electrical storm was going on over the board. It was cool, and, hey-we won.”

”And I'm so glad.”

”No, you're not. You were dying to beat him.”

”Stacey, it was a game.”

”Yes, but I could see it in your eyes. He's a challenge to you. He interests you. I know you checked out his credentials.”

”Yes, I did. I called the university. He's new there this semester, and they're thrilled to have him. He lectures all over the world.

We should go hear him sometime. I wonder what his schedule's like.”

”You didn't ask him?” Jessica flushed. ”Of course not.”

Stacey laughed. ”Fine. I'll ask him tomorrow. There's some excitement for you. An academic lecture. Except...I bet his lectures are exciting.”

The two women finished cleaning up in silence, then headed upstairs.

At the landing, Jessica said good night, heading for her own room. She was aware of Stacey watching her until she closed and locked her door.

Inside, she hesitated, then walked out to the balcony. The nicest guest quarters were next to her own, and she was all too aware that he was there.

The French doors of his balcony were closed, the curtains drawn. The room was dark.

She looked at the sky.

There was still that flush of red that deepened the darkness of the night. A cool breeze swept by her. She sighed, closing her eyes, feeling the chill.

Yes, it was coming....

And he...

What did he have to do with it, if anything?

She walked back into her bedroom. As she lay down, she realized he made her think of the past, of a time when she had believed in life and love and commitment, a fight for right and all good things. When she had been young, she'd been such an idealist. And so naive.

She punched her pillow. Good Lord, that was ages ago.

Still, as she lay there, she was bizarrely disturbed by his nearness. He lay just beyond the wall. It almost seemed she could hear his heartbeat, feel the pulse of his vitality, as if he were nearer still.

She adjusted her pillow again. It didn't help. Sleep was a long time coming.

He watched.

From the shadows, from the darkness below, he watched Anger and hatred raged through him as he cast his head back, relis.h.i.+ng the feeling of power growing in him.

He'd waited so long.

Vengeance had been long in coming, but time, as they said, made it sweeter. All the charades, all the deceptions, revealed at last.

And now, in an arena of pain and torture, it would all be over. Foolish creatures, so armored in righteousness. They did not see the truth blinded as they were by their own ignorance.

He moved, a shadow himself, a shadow that flowed like blood, and neared the house. How easy it would be to end it all now....

The temptation to move closer and prove that statement true filled him. He embodied the power of the ages, the greatest power ever known.

His will was far greater than their pathetic belief in themselves, he was certain.

And yet...

Rage exploded in him as he tried to enter the house. It was a bastion, fully secured against him. A complete bastion. In his raw fury, he attempted entry again and again, but it was fruitless.

He forced himself to remember that soon enough, he would walk right in. Soon enough, the invitation would come. He had taken care to grow close to one who was close to her, and he didn't need to be angry, he just needed to be patient. The time wasn't right, not quite yet. He had been very patient thus far, beginning his quest in distant places, knowing that soon enough, she would arrive, knowing that through the subtlety of his actions it would slowly dawn on her that she was being targeted, that he was touching those with a connection to her, no matter how slight. And she would begin to wonder....

Soon.

Soon enough, the last mocking lure would be cast, havoc would reign, and then...in his realm, on a ground of his choosing...the end would come.

Bryan awoke with a jolt. Something disturbing had shattered his sleep, just as surely as a fire alarm clanging in the night.

He rose instantly and threw on a robe. He stepped onto the balcony but saw nothing that could have disturbed him so deeply. The window of the room next to his was open, the breeze blowing the curtains back so he could look inside Jessica's room. She was asleep, blond hair like a gleaming halo against the bedding, features as perfect as if they had been sculpted by Michelangelo.

Excitement like lightning ripped through him, and he shook his head. He'd never seen anyone more angelic.

Nothing, he was certain, haunted her room.

He forced himself to retreat, back to his room, into the hallway, down the stairs. Nothing. Nothing at all.

He stepped out the back door.

The scent of something rotten filled the air. But was it real, or was he imagining it? Was he creating something wrong where nothing was amiss?

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