The dark shape shrugged. "He'd transmogrified-changed shape-a couple of times the past week or so. That drained him.

And he doesn't feed like a sensible revenant. His stupid scruples."

"What do you mean?" Christopher had no hesitation about draining that jug on the table and it had restored his color, for a short time. "Should I have given him more? I had no idea how much."

Tom reached over to steady her shoulder; she found the twisted fingers strangely comforting. His voice gentled as he looked across the bed, "It's nothing you did or didn't do. Just his stubbornness. He has an aversion to taking human blood. He's fed off animals for years."

"And that's a subst.i.tute?"

"From day to day, yes. I feed from animals myself, sometimes, but on a long term, no. Add that acc.u.mulated weakness to the torture he endured... No revenant could survive both."

Kit seemed to shrivel as they watched. Fear skittered up and down her spine. Dixie leaned over to kiss him. He felt as cold as Gran in the casket. She'd just met him and now she was losing him. Did everyone she loved have to die? Tears coursed down her cheeks. She didn't bother to wipe them anymore.

The mattress sagged behind her. Tom had moved to her side. His arm wrapped her shoulders. "He was my friend, too," he whispered, his tears wet and warm on her neck. "We were young together."

Night pa.s.sed with only the buzz of endless traffic outside the curtained window and the tick of the marble clock on the mantel to mark the time.

"It's three. Dawn's not far off. He's lasting longer than I thought." Tom's voice shattered the quiet. Or was that her nerves? He'd barely whispered.

"No." She wasn't going to just sit here and watch Christopher die. She'd... d.a.m.n it, she knew what she'd do. "Listen! You said he was weakened because he won't take human blood." Tom nodded, his eyes heavy-lidded and red from crying. "Would human blood save him?"

Chapter Eight.

Tom's eyes widened with understanding. "At this point?" He shook his head. "I don't honestly know."

"But it's worth a try, right? What have we got to lose?" Let him answer that one.

"Remember his aversion-"

"No! Use your sense! My blood might save him. I should have thought of it hours ago. Besides, I think he has fed from me.

One night, weeks ago, I thought he'd given me a monumental hickey but on second thought..."

"Dixie, if he'd fed, you wouldn't 'think' he had. That time, he tasted in the heat of pa.s.sion and dragged me through forty-eight hours of angst over it."

Previous Top Next"He told you!" Her chest heaved with fury.

"He was consumed with remorse. He felt he'd abused you."

That was why he'd stayed away those days and when he came back, she'd suspected him of stealing her appointment book.

"Well, I didn't feel abused. I felt abandoned when he disappeared, and I'm not standing here arguing. If he needs blood, I've got a body full."

"Dixie, do you know what you're suggesting?"

"I've been a blood donor since college."

"This isn't the same."

He was right there. A thought struck her. "If he feeds off me, will I become a vampire?"

Tom shook his head. "No. You'll feel the loss of blood. That's all. If feeding caused transformation, we'd outnumber you mortals."

"Then I can give my blood and not worry."

"Except about Kit's scruples. Forget it, Dixie."

"But it's doable. You feed from humans. How do you do it? A nip on the neck?" She spoke lightly to ignore the shudder that started between her shoulder blades and spread like an infection. His eyes questioned her sanity. She half-agreed. "I'm serious, Tom. Please tell me what to do."

"If it works, Kit will curse me."

"Then leave. I'll tell him you had to go to the bathroom."

His mouth twisted in a reluctant smile. "I'm a revenant. What use would I have for a bathroom?"

"h.e.l.l, I don't know. Oh, d.a.m.n it! Help me. Look at him." Grayer than dust, Christopher's face showed lines and creases like an old man. He was old. Centuries old. Dixie choked back her horror as she saw it reflected in Tom's eyes.

"I'll tell you," Tom said. "It's simple. He has to feed from a vein or artery. The neck works but so does the wrist, thigh, anywhere."

"But he can't move. How can he bite? You do it!" She pulled down the neck of her tee s.h.i.+rt.

"No!" He backed away, hands raised as if to fend her off. "We never feed from another's bite. It's taboo."

This was no time to debate revenant ethics. "But how? We left it too late." Fear as cold as mercury slid through the marrow in her bones.

"Wait! There's a way." He disappeared, then reappeared before she had time to think. "Here." He handed her a surgeon's scalpel. "It's sterile."

Dixie stared up at him. "Where... ?" she began.

"An old friend of mine is a doctor. He leaves equipment here for when he's in town." She should ask something more, but her brain no longer formed sentences. The gleaming metal shone like a mirror. It looked deadly. The blade winked as her hand shook. "Open a vein. When he scents the blood, instinct will start him feeding. With willpower we can resist, but as weak as he is it'll work as a reflex."

"You're certain?"

"I'm certain you're brave enough to do it."

She might trade her life for that certainty but wasn't she gambling Christopher's? The blade felt colder than fear. She couldn't just slash her neck, blind. "I cant see what I'm doing. I need a mirror."

"Not in this house, Dixie."

She hesitated, then looked back at Christopher. Gray peppered his dark hair and the wrinkles stood like furrows in his cheeks.

She couldn't dally any longer. Pulling back the sheets so she could sit close, she glanced down at his wasted arms and shrunken chest. "It's too late."

"No. Close, but not yet. I'd know."

"How?" Gran had looked better in her casket than Christopher did right now.

"He made me. I'll know when he extinguishes."

"Will you die, too?"

He shook his head. "I won't die but I'll feel his going."

"Not yet you won't." She poised the blade over her wrist. Which vein? Haifa dozen showed blue under her skin. What if she got the wrong one? Her wrist just wouldn't work. She leaned close; her weight on the mattress caused Christopher's head to turn towards her, his cheek resting just inches from her breast. That might just be easier than slas.h.i.+ng her own wrist. But... She looked over her shoulder to Tom. "You may not need to use the bathroom but would you mind making me a cup if tea or something? I'd much rather not have an audience."

He hesitated, then nodded and left. Dixie was alone with Christopher, clutching a scalpel that she had to find the courage to use.

She cradled Christopher's head and leaned over, bringing his mouth as close as she could. Her right hand clenched the now- warm scalpel. This wouldn't work. She needed a third hand to open her tee s.h.i.+rt. She laid his head back on the pillow as gently as she could, set the scalpel on the nightstand, and pulled her tee s.h.i.+rt over her head. She raised his head again. This was harder than she thought. She really did need two hands. What if she cut too deep? What if he faded while she hesitated?

As she pulled him close, he turned to her breast. Had he moved? She looked down at the worn face nestled in her bosom.

That was it! She unsnapped her bra and slid under the covers until she was stretched out beside him. Propped on one elbow, she leaned over him until her breast rested by his lips. Gritting her teeth, she poised the scalpel over her skin, shut her eyes, and nicked. She winced at the pain but opening her eyes saw only a scratch. To draw blood she'd have to cut deep. Hesitation hit like a killing frost. Was she crazy? A glance at Christopher quickened her resolve.

Her wrist moved. She cried at the pain, but smiled at the gush of blood. She leaned into Christopher, caressing his mouth with her breast. He lay like a granite statue. She'd dithered too long.

Suddenly, his lips parted and a great surge of pleasure swept through her as his mouth closed over her breast. She melted into him, as sweet warmth washed and lapped at the fringes of her reason. She forgot the pain. Pain didn't exist, only joy. She rolled closer, wanting his touch on every inch, his closeness. Her arms cradled him as he suckled her strength and her mind floated in a cloud of light that carried her ever higher.

She sighed, she moaned, as his insistent mouth clamped and suckled. She cried out as his jaw slammed tight with returning strength, then pleasure mixed with the pain, as his arm closed round her. "Christopher!" Every worry and fright of the day evaporated at her cry as response coursed through every nerve. Her hips moved against him. Her thigh rocked against his arousal. She'd ceased to think, to breath, to reason. She wanted Christopher, today and forever.

He moaned. She sighed in reply. He bit. She buckled against him, urging him to drink harder, deeper, yearning for the sweet pleasure he took and gave. His arms now held like a vise. A sweet velvet vise that took her being into his. She'd never in her life known such closeness, such yearning, such joy.

"Dixie." He lifted his mouth as he spoke and blinked at her, his eye pale with pa.s.sion. "What have I done?"

"You took what I gave and you needed." She smiled, wanting to giggle but she didn't have the energy. "And treated me to a new experience." She felt lightheaded and giddy. The room seemed to fade before her eyes.

"You shouldn't have, Dixie." She heard his worry through the mist of her consciousness.

"Why not? It saved you, right?"

"At what price, Dixie?"

She didn't answer that, as his face, the bed, and the room spun off into darkness.

"Do you have no sense? How could you let her?" Christopher yelled from the doorway.

Tom looked up from the doc.u.ment in his hand and leaned back in his swivel chair. "By 'her' I take it you refer to the young woman who brought you here last night and, by her intervention, a.s.sured your continued existence." He smiled. "You certainly look better than the last time I saw you. I feared our long friends.h.i.+p was over."

Christopher's hands splayed on the polished oak as he towered over his friend. "Maybe it is! You should have stopped her."

Tom lifted his eyebrows. "Maybe I, too, didn't want you to expire."

Christopher's elbows sagged as his head dropped. "You could have prevented her."

"You really believe that? Your young woman isn't the sort to be stopped. I willed her to turn around and leave and she marched past me and into my own house as if she owned it."

"But you told her what to do."

"I didn't tell her. She put me through a scrutiny that would have done credit to Francis Walsingham. She asked me point-blank if her blood could save you. Did you want me to lie?"

"Yes!" The room spun but he ground his nails into the desktop for support. "Tom, I abused her kindness. I took advantage of her generosity."

"No, you didn't." He stemmed Christopher's protests with a shake of the head and a raised hand. "Listen! She committed herself to you when she rescued you from the torture. She sheltered you from the sun and fed you and brought you here at your request. And, yes, she told me everything, even about the chicken livers. A woman of resource.

"We talked as we kept vigil and by then I decided you were right and I was wrong. She'd had no part in trapping you. All she wanted was to save you. She'd brought you this far, she'd earned the right to stay. She asked why you were so weak and if anything could save you. I told her. The truth shook her but she chose. And willingly. You're right, she is honest and kind, and, I suspect, loves you.""That's what I feared. I fed, we're bonded."

"You fed once and tasted her some days ago. That's not an eternal bond."

"No? It's an eternal debt. I took so much blood. What if I'd taken too much? She's hurt. She has a great wound in her breast."

He frowned up at Tom. "Don't try to tell me she brought that scalpel in her handbag!"

"I gave it to her. She was ready to bite herself if need be. I made the inevitable easier. Kit. You were fading, she offered the means to save you." His voice softened, "Once, you and Justin brought me back from death. I just repaid the debt."

"At Dixie's cost!"

Tom glanced at the ceiling. "She may well consider the price was reasonable. What's done is done. If you don't rest, what good will her efforts do? Don't let her gift be in vain."

"She's hurt. She's weak. What sort of repayment is that? She needs st.i.tches. She can't go to a hospital. Imagine the report sheet. Cause of injury? Succoring a dying vampire. She'd end up in the psychiatric ward."

"Justin can st.i.tch it and give her blood." He grinned as Christopher started forward. "Don't get me wrong. He'll use blood bags." Tom clasped his shoulder. "Kit, go rest. Dawn isn't far off and I doubt you'd live though another sunrise. When Dixie wakes, I want to be able to tell her you're safely resting, not charred to ash despite all her efforts. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of her anger."

"The last man who miffed her got a pub table in his chest and a plate of hot curry on his love life." He'd laughed the first time he'd heard that. It lost nothing in the retelling.

Tom stood up. "If you can laugh again, you'll last. Go rest. I'll wait up for Dixie. Anything else you need?"

Christopher steadied himself on the desk. He hadn't felt this weak in his mortal days. "Get Justin to take care of her."

Dixie felt the hand on her shoulder just before her eyes opened. She half sat up, then grabbed the sheets to cover her chest.

She recognized the room, but not the man sitting on the edge of the bed. Where was Christopher?

"Don't be afraid. You're safe." He might sound rea.s.suring but Dixie wasn't that easily convinced. She looked around, judging the distance from bed to door, wondering if Tom was within earshot, and if he'd help if he were. "I should introduce myself. I'm a doctor, Justin Corvus. Our mutual friend Kit Marlowe asked me to attend you. I believe you're injured."

She couldn't deny that. Her b.o.o.b throbbed like a hangover headache. But... "He did? He gave me the impression he didn't trust doctors."

The man nodded, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. "Kit, like all of us revenants, avoids mortal doctors." He paused. "He called me in because I'm a member of the same colony. Your injury would be difficult to explain anywhere else."

He was right about that! She didn't fancy explaining her particular injury in an Emergency Room. "My hand slipped chopping onions" or "I caught it in the zipper of my parka" sounded as incredible as the truth. "You really are a physician?"

He inclined his head, "Yes, madam, I am and have been since I arrived on these islands."