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It was well after sunset when Xanna awoke. She bolted upright, hands clutching at her chest. She expected to still feel the stake there, but there was nothing. Realizing that she could feel her extremities again, that the stake no longer paralyzed her, she heaved a sigh of relief. She laid back down again, eyes closed. Whatever she was lying on was soft and springy, and smelled good. In fact, the scent of it reminded her of . . . grass.
She opened her eyes a crack, and was greeted by the full face of the moon. Silvery moon beams lit up her surroundings, and with a shock, she understood just where she was. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, and looked around.
She was back at the lake! This was the slope she'd run down as a child, and she could hear the faint lapping of water on the shore below her, as clearly as if she were standing right on the sand. The moon was right above her head, and shone back out of the lake at her, a perfect circle. Reflections of stars peppered the dark surface of the water. The trees on the far shore were shrouded in shadow, and even a little mystery. Nothing had changed; it was all as she remembered.
No, not quite, she thought, heart sinking a little. I'm not the same. I'm a different person from who I was as a child, and from who I was the last time I was here, both before and after I became a what I am now. I have changed, and I can never go back.
She sat down on the grass, and wrapped her arms around her knees, staring at the lake. It seemed smaller than she remembered. "How did I get here?" she wondered aloud.
Without warning, there was a feather light touch on her shoulder. "I brought you here,a ansacht," a voice whispered in her ear.
She smiled, and murmured, "Thank you, Mike." For a long while, neither of them said anything. They simply sat on the ground, enjoying the sounds of the night.
Finally, Mikhail spoke, and Xanna could hear a smile in his voice. "Well. I thought you would have an incurable case of curious-itis, after waking up here." His fingers brushed her cheek, and seriously, he asked, "Do you want me to tell you what happened?"
Xanna nodded. "Yes. I remember being paralyzed by . . . by the stake. I don't remember much of anything after that. What . . . What happened to Miriel?" Her tone quavered with fear. What if that monster weren't dead?
Mikhail's voice was suddenly harsh. "She was destroyed. After she threw the stake at you, she tried to take the one Cameron was holding, and use it on him. She must have been out of her mind. They fought back and forth, all over the room, and knocked over the candles and lanterns. The next thing I saw, half the room was on fire, and they're in the middle of it, still fighting. The fire started to creep toward the door, and was going to block it before too much longer. Do you know what happens to us when we burn?" Xanna shook her head mutely. "It hurts, ionuine. It hurts worse than any pain you've ever known. Unless you are very lucky, you are consumed within moments. You were slipping into a coma on the other side of the room, thankfully out of the fire, but I had to get you out of there, and the only way was to help Cameron. I recalled I was still holding the gun, and tried to distract Miriel, so I could get off a shot. The bullets don't actually do much damage to us, but the force of it will throw one of us back. I thought if I did, I would give Cameron a chance to get the stake back from her. So I fired, and it hit her square in the shoulder. She kind of staggered back, and Cameron staked her almost immediately.
"By this time, the fire had taken most of the room, but the door was still clear. Cameron had brought a short sword with him, and he was intending to use it to cut off Miriel's head. I told him that we had to leave, thinking that the fire would kill her just as dead as decapitation. But he was hell bent on completing the old ritual, and told me to leave, that he could take it. So I brought you out. We got out just in time, because soon, the whole house was on fire."
"Did Cameron make it out?" Xanna asked anxiously. "Please, tell me!"
Mikhail looked away from her, out toward the darkened trees. Softly, so that she had to strain to hear it, he asked, "Do you love him?"
Taken aback, she was able to say nothing for a moment. Then she quietly replied, "Yes. I love him as I loved my father. Or rather, given more time with him, I would. After all this time, I still miss my own father so very much, and I guess I tried to replace him with Cameron. That is very clear now, here. But it isn't the same way that I love you. It is very different, the way the night has a different kind of beauty from . . . the day." She stopped, remembering her father's words from many years ago.
"So, please, tell me. Did Cameron make it?"
"Yes, he did. He was very badly burned, but he made it. He told me that he had run into the last of Miriel's Children on his way down the stairs. The Childe was frightened out of his mind, the fire had completely rattled him. He attacked Cameron, screaming that it was his fault, the whole fire was his fault. Cameron had to stab him; he was still holding the sword he'd brought with him. The Childe fell down the stairs, and Cameron was able to get away. He found me outside. I had hidden you, and was looking for a way back in. His cheeks and hands were scorched, and his clothes were smoldering. He wanted to know that you were safe, and he told me how to bring you out of the coma you were in. It was very simple, and had I thought about it for a while, I would have come up with the idea myself. 'Just remove the stake,' he said, 'and give her some of your blood. When she awakes, she'll be desperately hungry, so have something immediately to hand.' I brought you to my lair, and when you woke there for a few moments, I gave you a brace of rabbits. Yes, I know; you subsisted on rats for a long time, but they just don't have enough blood. Then you fell back to sleep again. That was last night. Tonight, I brought you out here."
"Why?" she asked, looking at his silhouette. He was still staring out at the lake and trees. "Why here?"
"Because I know how much you love this place." At last, he looked at her. "And because I thought the choice you have to make would be easier in these surroundings."
"Choice? What choice? I'm a vampire; what more choice can I have?"
"Miriel's Children have been found, because she taught them nothing, and they were not strong enough to live on their own. There might be a vampire scare if we remain here. Yes, I know, you're cautious," he spoke over her protest. "But you leave drained humans every two weeks or so. The trick is not to starve oneself for human blood, but to drink a little every night. That way, you don't need so much. So, the choice is, do you wish to remain here, and risk being discovered, or move to another part of the country? You can even explore the world, if you want. Cameron has decided to give you an allowance of sorts. It will add up to a rather substantial amount, I believe. Cameron has a knack for making money."
"What about you?" Xanna asked. "What will you do?"
Mikhail smiled sadly and looked at the grass. "Oh, I suppose I'll just keep doing what I do. I might go out and travel through the rest of the country. It's been a long time since I've been out west. I think I'd like to see the changes."
"Oh." After a moment of saying nothing, Xanna reached out for his hand. "Would you like some company in your travels?"
Slowly, Mikhail looked up from studying the ground. "What do you mean? Do you mean you want to . . . stay with me?"
She nodded. "Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Cameron can give me an allowance if he wants," she spoke gently, trying to make him understand. "But that doesn't mean I want to stay with him, or be like him. I'd rather be out in the open, traveling, or even just settling down in one spot, so long as I can feel the breeze in my hair, and smell the trees. I told you before, cities are just not for me."
This time, his smile was real. "A ansacht," he breathed. "Thank you. You have forgiven me?"
"Yes. I know finally why you made me a vampire. And I should have believed you, when you came to get me at my apartment. Miriel told me that she was the one who attacked me, and she did it for spite, to get even with you." She shuddered. "I think she was no longer quite right in the head."
"Cameron thinks that way as well."
"Mike?" she inquired softly, as the thought struck her. "What does a ansacht mean? It's something I've been wondering about for a while."
He smiled into the deepening night. Quietly he replied, "In Gaelic, it means, my love. But I much prefer the old way of saying it."
The chirping of crickets was the only thing that broke the silence for several minutes. Suddenly, Xanna stood up. "Mike, what time is it?"
Surprised, Mikhail gaped up at her, then glanced down at his watch. "About 10 o'clock. Why?"
Xanna was no longer facing the lake. She was climbing up the slope, and stood on top of the gentle rise, looking back at the lights of the house. Can you forgive me, Ma? I hope so. "Because I have some important business to take care of at home."
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