Lover Eternal
Chapter Forty-nine
Rhage raced into the house, whipping off his trench coat as he pounded through the foyer and up the stairs. Inside their room he ditched his watch and changed into a white silk shirt and pants. After grabbing a lacquered box from the top shelf of the closet, he went to the center of the bedroom and got down on his knees. He opened the box, took out a string of marble-sized black pearls, and put the necklace on.
He sat back on his heels, laid his hands palm up on his thighs, and closed his eyes.
Slowing down his breathing, he sank into the position until his bones, not his muscles, held him in place. He swept his mind clean as best he could and then waited, begging to be seen by the only thing that might save Mary.
The pearls warmed against his skin.
When he opened his eyes he was in a brilliant courtyard of white marble. The fountain here was working splendidly, the water sparkling as it went up into the air and came down into the basin. A white tree with white blossoms was in the corner, the songbirds trilling on its branches the only splashes of color in the place.
"To what do I owe this pleasure," the Scribe Virgin said from behind him. "You have surely not come about your beast. There is quite some time left on that, as I recall."
Rhage remained on his knees, his head bowed, his tongue tied. He found that he didn't know where to begin.
"Such silence," the Scribe Virgin murmured. "Unusual for you."
"I would choose my words carefully."
"Wise, warrior. Very wise. Given what you have come here for."
"You know?"
"No questions," she snapped. "Truly, I am getting tired of having to remind the Brotherhood of this. Perhaps when you return you will recall such etiquette to the others."
"My apologies."
The edge of her black robes came into his vision. "Lift your head, warrior. Look at me."
He took a deep breath and complied.
"You are in such pain," she said softly. "I can feel your burden."
"My heart bleeds."
"For this human female of yours."
He nodded. "I would ask that you save her, if it would not offend."
The Scribe Virgin turned away from him. Then she floated over the marble, taking a slow turn around the courtyard.
He had no idea what she was thinking. Or whether she was even considering what he'd requested. For all he knew she was out for a little exercise. Or about to walk away from him.
"That I would not do, warrior," she said as she read his mind. "In spite of our differences, I would not desert you in that manner. Tell me somethingwhat if saving your female meant you would never be free of the beast? What if having her live meant you must remain in your curse until you go unto the Fade?"
"I would happily keep it within me."
"You hate it."
"I love her."
"Well, well. Clearly you do."
Hope fired in his chest. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if they had struck a deal, if Mary could live now. But he wasn't going to risk tipping the balance of the negotiation by pissing the Scribe Virgin off with another question.
She smoothed her way over to him. "You have changed quite a bit since we had our last private meeting in that forest. And I believe this is the first selfless thing you have ever done."
He exhaled, a sweet relief singing in his veins. "There is nothing I would not do for her, nothing I would not sacrifice."
"Fortunate for you, in a way," the Scribe Virgin murmured. "Because in addition to keeping the beast within you, I require you to give up your Mary."
Rhage jerked, convinced he hadn't heard right.
"Yes, warrior. You understand me perfectly."
A death chill went through him, stealing his breath.
"Here is what I offer you," she said. "I can take her out of the continuum of her fate, making her whole and healthy. She will grow no older, she will never be ill, she will decide when she wishes to go unto the Fade. And I will give her the choice to accept the gift. However, as I present the proposal, she will not know of you, and whether or not she consents, you and your world will be ever unknown to her. Likewise, she will not be known by any of those whom she has met, lessers included. You will be the only one who remembers her. And if ever you approach her, she will die. Immediately."
Rhage swayed and fell forward, catching himself with his hands. It was a long time before he could squeeze any words from his throat.
"You truly hate me."
A mild electrical shock went through him, and he realized the Scribe Virgin had touched him on the shoulder.
"No, warrior. I love you, my child. The punishment of the beast was to teach you to control yourself, to learn your limits, to focus inward."
He lifted his eyes to her, not caring what she saw in them: hatred, pain, the urge to lash out.
His voice trembled. "You are taking my life from me."
"That is the point," she said in an impossibly gentle tone. "It is yin and yang, warrior. Your life, metaphorically, for hers, in fact. Balance must be kept, sacrifices must be made if gifts are given. If I am to save the human for you, there must be a profound pledge on your part. Yin and yang."
He put his head down.
And screamed. Screamed until the blood rushed into his face and stung. Until his eyes watered and all but popped out of his skull. Until his voice cracked and faded into hoarseness.
When he was finished, he focused his eyes. The Scribe Virgin was kneeling in front of him, her robes spilling out all around her, a pool of black on the white marble.
"Warrior, I would spare you this if I could."
God, he almost believed that. Her voice was so hollow.
"Do it," he said roughly. "Give her the choice. I would rather she live long and happily without knowing me than die now."
"So be it."
"But I beg of you... let me say good-bye. One last goodbye."
The Scribe Virgin shook her head.
Pain ripped through him, slicing him until he wouldn't have been surprised to find his body bleeding.
"I beg"
"It is now or not."
Rhage shuddered. Closed his eyes. Felt death come to him as surely as if his heart had stopped beating.
"Then it is now," he whispered.
He sat back on his heels, laid his hands palm up on his thighs, and closed his eyes.
Slowing down his breathing, he sank into the position until his bones, not his muscles, held him in place. He swept his mind clean as best he could and then waited, begging to be seen by the only thing that might save Mary.
The pearls warmed against his skin.
When he opened his eyes he was in a brilliant courtyard of white marble. The fountain here was working splendidly, the water sparkling as it went up into the air and came down into the basin. A white tree with white blossoms was in the corner, the songbirds trilling on its branches the only splashes of color in the place.
"To what do I owe this pleasure," the Scribe Virgin said from behind him. "You have surely not come about your beast. There is quite some time left on that, as I recall."
Rhage remained on his knees, his head bowed, his tongue tied. He found that he didn't know where to begin.
"Such silence," the Scribe Virgin murmured. "Unusual for you."
"I would choose my words carefully."
"Wise, warrior. Very wise. Given what you have come here for."
"You know?"
"No questions," she snapped. "Truly, I am getting tired of having to remind the Brotherhood of this. Perhaps when you return you will recall such etiquette to the others."
"My apologies."
The edge of her black robes came into his vision. "Lift your head, warrior. Look at me."
He took a deep breath and complied.
"You are in such pain," she said softly. "I can feel your burden."
"My heart bleeds."
"For this human female of yours."
He nodded. "I would ask that you save her, if it would not offend."
The Scribe Virgin turned away from him. Then she floated over the marble, taking a slow turn around the courtyard.
He had no idea what she was thinking. Or whether she was even considering what he'd requested. For all he knew she was out for a little exercise. Or about to walk away from him.
"That I would not do, warrior," she said as she read his mind. "In spite of our differences, I would not desert you in that manner. Tell me somethingwhat if saving your female meant you would never be free of the beast? What if having her live meant you must remain in your curse until you go unto the Fade?"
"I would happily keep it within me."
"You hate it."
"I love her."
"Well, well. Clearly you do."
Hope fired in his chest. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if they had struck a deal, if Mary could live now. But he wasn't going to risk tipping the balance of the negotiation by pissing the Scribe Virgin off with another question.
She smoothed her way over to him. "You have changed quite a bit since we had our last private meeting in that forest. And I believe this is the first selfless thing you have ever done."
He exhaled, a sweet relief singing in his veins. "There is nothing I would not do for her, nothing I would not sacrifice."
"Fortunate for you, in a way," the Scribe Virgin murmured. "Because in addition to keeping the beast within you, I require you to give up your Mary."
Rhage jerked, convinced he hadn't heard right.
"Yes, warrior. You understand me perfectly."
A death chill went through him, stealing his breath.
"Here is what I offer you," she said. "I can take her out of the continuum of her fate, making her whole and healthy. She will grow no older, she will never be ill, she will decide when she wishes to go unto the Fade. And I will give her the choice to accept the gift. However, as I present the proposal, she will not know of you, and whether or not she consents, you and your world will be ever unknown to her. Likewise, she will not be known by any of those whom she has met, lessers included. You will be the only one who remembers her. And if ever you approach her, she will die. Immediately."
Rhage swayed and fell forward, catching himself with his hands. It was a long time before he could squeeze any words from his throat.
"You truly hate me."
A mild electrical shock went through him, and he realized the Scribe Virgin had touched him on the shoulder.
"No, warrior. I love you, my child. The punishment of the beast was to teach you to control yourself, to learn your limits, to focus inward."
He lifted his eyes to her, not caring what she saw in them: hatred, pain, the urge to lash out.
His voice trembled. "You are taking my life from me."
"That is the point," she said in an impossibly gentle tone. "It is yin and yang, warrior. Your life, metaphorically, for hers, in fact. Balance must be kept, sacrifices must be made if gifts are given. If I am to save the human for you, there must be a profound pledge on your part. Yin and yang."
He put his head down.
And screamed. Screamed until the blood rushed into his face and stung. Until his eyes watered and all but popped out of his skull. Until his voice cracked and faded into hoarseness.
When he was finished, he focused his eyes. The Scribe Virgin was kneeling in front of him, her robes spilling out all around her, a pool of black on the white marble.
"Warrior, I would spare you this if I could."
God, he almost believed that. Her voice was so hollow.
"Do it," he said roughly. "Give her the choice. I would rather she live long and happily without knowing me than die now."
"So be it."
"But I beg of you... let me say good-bye. One last goodbye."
The Scribe Virgin shook her head.
Pain ripped through him, slicing him until he wouldn't have been surprised to find his body bleeding.
"I beg"
"It is now or not."
Rhage shuddered. Closed his eyes. Felt death come to him as surely as if his heart had stopped beating.
"Then it is now," he whispered.
