Midnight Embrace

Chapter Twenty-six

Ears straining, heart pounding, Analisa stared at the door. She heard nothing, but suddenly a tall form appeared in the doorway. His eyes were aglow with hatred and the heat of battle, his mouth stained with crimson. His white shirt was splattered with dark red blood.
She felt her breath catch in her throat, then escape in a long sigh of relief. It was Alesandro.
She whispered his name as he drew near.
At a word, the shackles on her hands and feet fell away. Moving toward Mrs. Thornfield, he released her as well. Catching her in his arms, he laid her gently on the cold stone floor, then turned toward Analisa once again.
" 'Lisa?" His fingertips moved over her neck, lingering where Rodrigo's fangs had penetrated the skin.
"I'm all right." Her gaze moved over him. He was pale. There were deep scratches on his face. Blood flowed from the wound in his shoulder, dripped from a dozen other gashes on his arms, his neck, his chest. "You are not."
He drew her into his arms. "Do not worry for me."
"Is Mrs. Thornfield dead?"
"Soon."
"You've got to save her, Alesandro. We can't just let her die."
"She has very little blood left for me to take, and I fear I do not have enough to give her."
"We have to do something! Can't you take my blood and then give it to her?"
"You would be willing to do that?"
Analisa glanced at Mrs. Thornfield, remembering the woman's kindness. "Yes, of course. Hurry!"
He considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "It is not safe for you."
"Why not?"
"Fighting with Rodrigo has left me weak. I need blood."
She could see that for herself. His skin was pale, his eyes burned with hellish need. He was afraid for her, she thought, afraid he would not be able to stop, afraid he would take too much.
Analisa glanced down at Mrs. Thornfield. She couldn't stand by and let her die. The housekeeper had been kind to her. She had taught her to read and write. And she loved Alesandro as much as Analisa did.
"Do it, Alesandro."
"You are sure?"
She nodded, hoping she would not regret her decision. Alesandro needed blood to heal, to replace what he had lost in the fight, what he was losing even now from the wounds Rodrigo had inflicted. She knew he usually healed rapidly, sometimes immediately. Why did the bite of a vampire take longer to heal?
She closed her eyes when she felt Alesandro's fangs at her throat. What if he couldn't stop in time?
Her apprehension quickly faded, replaced by the sensual pleasure of his touch. She could feel the change in her heartbeat as it slowed to beat in time with his. His breath was warm on her skin, his hands masterful yet gentle as they clasped her shoulders, holding her close. She felt the pain of his wounds. They burned like fire, as if someone had poured acid on his skin. But the pain was receding, growing less with each passing moment. The thought pleased her.
She moaned softly when he lifted his head.
"Analisa?"
Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at him, her gaze unfocused.
"Lie still," he said.
She nodded, surprised to find herself lying on the floor beside Mrs. Thornfield. She watched through half-closed eyes as he lifted the housekeeper into his arms. She saw his face, his gaze intent as he bent over the other woman. Mrs. Thornfield cried out, whether in fear or pain or protest Analisa could not say, as Alesandro's fangs pierced her skin.
For the first time, Analisa wondered if they were doing the right thing. Would Mrs. Thornfield be pleased by their decision, or appalled? Analisa blinked, trying to clear her mind. How would she feel if someone made such a decision for her? Would she choose to live as a vampire if the alternative was death? Could she drink blood to survive? The thought filled her with revulsion. As much as she loved Alesandro, she had no desire to become what he was.
Analisa lifted up on one elbow. "Alesandro, wait..."
But it was too late.
And then a new fear insinuated itself into her consciousness. Smoke! She smelled smoke.
Rolling onto her hands and knees, she crawled toward Alesandro and grabbed his arm.
He turned on her, his eyes blazing, his face the face of a stranger. Seeing her, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was Alesandro looking back at her. "What is it?"
She clutched his arm. "I think the house is on fire."
He lifted his head, nostrils sniffing the air, and then he swore a vile oath. "We've got to get out of here. Can you walk?"
She nodded, her heart pounding. Would this horrible nightmare never end?
Rising, he lifted Mrs. Thornfield and draped her over his shoulder, then helped Analisa to her feet. "We must go. Now."
She followed him, none too steadily, out of the cell, down the dark corridor, and up the stairs. Smoke filled her nostrils and stung her eyes.
Alesandro put his hand on the latch, only to find the door locked from the other side.
Cursing Rodrigo, he slammed his fist against the wood, and the door shattered.
Analisa followed him through the opening. The smoke was thicker here. Coughing, she followed Alesandro, who made his way unerringly through the dark toward the front door.
She slammed into his back when he came to an abrupt halt. "What isit?"
"We cannot go out the door. The fire was started there."
Analisa wiped her eyes. "How will we get out?" she asked, fighting down the panic that threatened to overtake her. "There aren't any windows!"
"Follow me." Pivoting, he hurried down the hallway, looking into each room he passed until he came to the library.
She followed him into the room.
"Close the door," he said.
She did as he asked, fear spreading through her as she looked wildly around. There were no windows in this room, either. It was hopeless. Coming in here might prolong the inevitable, but there was no way out. They were going to die, all of them. Even preternatural flesh couldn't withstand fire.
"Alesandro?" She reached out for him. If she had to die, at least she could die in his arms.
He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight. "Do not be afraid."
Not be afraid? Smoke was seeping under the door, burning her eyes, searing her throat.
"I am going to take Mrs. Thornfield out, and then I will come back for you."
"Out? How?" He might be able to carry her through the night with supernatural speed, but he couldn't carry her and Mrs. Thornfield through walls made of brick.
"The fireplace." He kissed her gently. "Do not be afraid."
Before she could argue, he was gone. She stared after him, ashamed of herself for wondering why he took the other woman first. She could hear the crackle of flames as the fire ate its way toward her.
"Alesandro, hurry!"
She moved toward the fireplace, stepped up on the hearth, and put her back to the door.
How long had he been gone? It seemed like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a minute or two.
And suddenly he was there, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close. Before she realized they were moving, they were outside. Mrs. Thornfield lay on the grass several yards away from the house, pale and unmoving.
Still holding Analisa, Alesandro bent down and lifted the other woman over his shoulder, and then they were hurtling through the night.
The next thing Analisa knew, they were inside the stone cottage. The door closed quietly behind them, sealing them in darkness.
In his room below stairs, Alesandro set Analisa on her feet, then laid Mrs. Thornfield on his bed.
"Is she going to be all right?" Analisa asked.
He shrugged, his expression troubled. "That will be up to her."
"Maybe we acted hastily," Analisa remarked. "Maybe we should have asked her if it was what she wanted."
"There was no time," he replied. "Come, I will take you home."
"I want to stay here, with you."
"No, 'Lisa. You do not want to be here when she wakes."
"Can't you bring her to the house, then? So we can all be together?"
"No. It is not wise for her to be near mortals when the transformation takes place. It will be difficult for her. And if I have made a mistake in bringing her across..." His words trailed off, but she knew what he had left unsaid. If the housekeeper didn't want to be a vampire, he would destroy her.
He covered the housekeeper with a blanket, then gathered Analisa into his arms.
Moments later, they were in his bedchamber. "I want you to stay here tonight. Lock the door and let no one in. I will come to you as soon as I can."
She nodded.
"Will you be all right, 'Lisa?"
She nodded again, afraid to speak for fear she would throw her arms around his neck and beg him not to go.
"Do not be afraid."
He gazed down at her, his expression filled with love and tenderness, yet, for an instant, she saw him as she had seen him earlier, his eyes blazing, his fangs stained with blood as he fought with Rodrigo, saw him bending over Mrs. Thornfield's neck...
" 'Lisa?"
"I'll be all right," she said. "You'd better go."
He looked at her for several moments, then vanished from her sight.
She stood there a minute; then, feeling chilled, she climbed into his bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
Sleep was a long time coming.
She dreamed of blood... a surging river of blood... and swimming in the river she saw Alesandro and Rodrigo and Mrs. Thornfield, all struggling to stay afloat. She saw Rodrigo go under, and then Mrs. Thornfield. Standing on the shore, she reached out to Alesandro, knowing that only she could save him. He caught her hand. And pulled her in. And under...
She woke gasping for air, the taste of blood lingering on her lips.
Flinging off the covers, she unlocked the door and ran out of the room. Needing to see the sun, to feel its warmth on her skin, she ran down the hallway and out of the house.
Outside, she lifted her face toward the rising sun, basking in its light.
A warmth, a light, that Mrs. Thornfield would never see again.
Sinking down on her knees, Analisa buried her face in her hands. What was she doing here? How could she be in love with a vampire? All these months she had known what he was, or thought she knew. But last night... last night it was as if someone had removed the blinders from her eyes and she had seen him for the first time, not as the man who had saved her life. Not as the man she loved. But as a vampire. He had told her he was capable of killing. Last night, she had seen death in his eyes. She had watched him fight with Rodrigo, had felt his anger, his power, and it had been a terrible, frightening thing to see. She had seen the blood lust in his eyes when he bent over Mrs. Thornfield.
But he could be kind. And gentle. She knew that as well. He had made love to her so tenderly, showered her with gifts, confessed his love and his need. Taken her into his home...
To have a ready source of blood.
But that had been in the beginning.
And now?
Rising, she beganto walk through the gardens. What about now? She couldn't believe that his love-making had been a lie, that all his words had been nothing more than a way to keep her here. He had survived four hundred years without her.
She walked for an hour, lost in thought, wondering how she would explain Mrs. Thornfield's absence. Returning to the house, she found Frannie, Dewhurst, and Cook in the parlor. They all looked up when she entered the room.
"Oh, Miss Matthews," Frannie said, "we've been so worried!"
"Worried? Why?"
"The carriage came back last night empty," Dewhurst said. "We didn't know what had happened to you and the others."
"Are you all right, miss?" Frannie asked.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine."
"What happened last night?" Dewhurst asked. "Where are Mrs. Thornfield and Farleigh?"
"I we had some trouble on the road," Analisa replied, thinking fast. "Robbers. Farleigh was killed - "
"Killed!" Dewhurst exclaimed.
Analisa nodded. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know the two of you were very close."
Dewhurst sank down on achair, too shocked to be mindful of proper behavior.
"What of Mrs. Thornfield?" Frannie asked, her voice subdued.
"She was injured. The horses bolted, so I had to find another carriage to bring me home." She glanced from Dewhurst to her maid. "I'm sorry I didn't wake either of you when I returned, but it was very late."
"And where is Mrs. Thornfield now?" Dewhurst asked.
"Lord Alesandro showed up soon after the accident. He took her to the hospital."
"Will she be all right?" Frannie asked.
"I don't know," Analisa said, glad to be able to speak the truth at last.
"Will you be wanting breakfast?" inquired Cook.
"No, thank you." She couldn't eat, not after last night. "But I would like a cup of tea."
"Very well, miss. I'm glad you're home safe," he said, and left the room, obviously anxious to have something to do.
"Frannie, would you draw me a bath, please, and lay out my clothing for the day?" It felt good to be thinking of mundane things. It helped to hold the horror of the past night away.
"Yes, miss."
"I'm glad you weren't hurt, miss," the groom said, rising.
"Thank you, Dewhurst."
"Will you be wanting to visit Mrs. Thornfield later?" he asked.
"I... yes, of course. That is, the doctor said she wasn't to have any visitors just now."
"Very well, miss." Dewhurst looked at her oddly a moment, then left the room.
Analisa stared after them. They would think it strange if she didn't go and visit the housekeeper, and stranger still if Mrs. Thornfield never returned. And she couldn't return, Analisa realized. The master of the house might be allowed his eccentricities; the staff might whisper among themselves and think it strange that he kept such unusual hours, but they would not accept the same from a housekeeper.
Analisa sighed. Poor Mrs. Thornfield. She had been with Alesandro for so many years, but that was ended now. She recalled Alesandro saying that vampires could not share the same territory; certainly they could not share the same house without arousing suspicion.
It was a problem that was beyond her ability to solve, at least at the moment.
Feeling a headache coming on, she went upstairs, hoping a bath and a change of clothes would make her feel better.
The day seemed to stretch endlessly before her. The house felt empty and was far too quiet. She tried to keep busy, tried to read, to sew. She went outside and sat in the sun. But try as she might, she could not stop thinking of Mrs. Thornfield. How had she reacted when she discovered what Alesandro had done? Was she relieved to still be alive? Or horrified to learn she was now a vampire? Would Alesandro stay with her, teach her what she needed to know? Or drive her out of his territory? Somehow, try as she might, she could not picture Mrs. Thornfield prowling through the night, stalking some helpless mortal, drinking her victim's blood. The mere idea filled her with revulsion. How did Alesandro bear it?
And what of Rodrigo? She had thought, had hoped, that he was dead, but he was the only one who could have set fire to the house. Where was he now?
That thought grew more and more worrisome as night spread its cloak over the land.