more.
"Till tomorrow,
cara mia
," he murmured. And for all the tomorrows of your life.
Chapter Seven
Images flashed through his mind—scattered images of writhing flames, of frightened children crying, of women weeping hysterically.
Pain seared through him. Excruciating, nauseating pain.
He fought through the layers of oblivion, his gaze opening on darkness. He knew immediately that it was still daylight and for a moment he lay there, confused. Never before had anything save the threat of imminent danger disturbed the heavy lethargy that weighed him down during the light of day.
Sara!
He knew in that moment that her life was in danger, that the pain that had seared through him had been her pain. His hands clenched at his sides as he tried to rise. It was like trying to fight his way out of quicksand, and he fell back, breathing heavily, fear making his heart beat fast.
Sara!
His mind screamed her name, echoing and reechoing like rolling thunder.
Sara!
She was hurt, perhaps dying, and until sundown there was nothing he could do.
Never before had he felt so helpless, so cursed. From the depths of his heart, he cried out, beseeching a kindly heaven to help her, to spare her life.
"Please. Please. Please."
Just that single word, repeated over and over again, as he was dragged down into the darkness.
When he woke, he could still feel her pain, her anguish, and he knew she was still clinging to life.
I'm coming, Sara
. He sent his thoughts across the miles, from his heart to hers.
Hang on
, cara.
I'm coming
.
"He's coming…" Struggling through a morass of pain, Sara repeated the words again and again.
"Lie still, child," Sister Mary Josepha said. "You must lie still."
"But he's… coming. I've… I've got to… be ready."
Sister Mary Josepha glanced up at Sister Mary Ynez. "Who's coming? Who can she talking about?"
Sister Mary Ynez shook her head. "Maybe she's thinking of her father. Will you stay with her while I look in on the others? I fear Elizabeth will not survive the night."
Sister Mary Josepha nodded. "Poor child," she murmured. And bowing her head,
she began to pray.
Gabriel walked down the narrow hallway, his nostrils filling with the odor of alcohol and antiseptic, of strong carbolic and ether. Of blood. So much blood.
The hunger rose within him, stabbing at him, wrapping around him. Blood. Warm and sweet.
He turned down another hallway, and the lust for blood was overshadowed by pain. Sara's pain. She was unconscious, but her silent screams of agony reached out to him, tearing at his heart, his soul.
On silent feet, he approached the doorway. She was lying on a narrow bed, covered by a thin white sheet. An elderly nun sat in a straight-backed wooden chair beside the bed, a well-worn rosary clutched in her gnarled hands.
The nun glanced up as he stepped into the room, her rheumy blue eyes widening in horror. "What are you doing here?"
Gabriel said nothing, his guilt over what he was rising up to choke him in the face of the old nun's purity of heart and soul.
"Spawn of the devil," she whispered, "why are you here?"
Her words cut him to the quick. "I mean her no harm, Sister, I assure you."
Sister Mary Josepha clutched her rosary to her breast, her thumb caressing the ivory crucifix. "Be gone!"
Gabriel shook his head. "I must see her, if only for a moment."
Though she was aged and small of stature, the nun bravely put herself between Gabriel and Sara.
"You will not have her." Sister Mary Josepha lifted the crucifix, thrusting it toward him. "Be gone, I say!"
Gabriel took a step backward and then, drawing on his revenant power, he gazed deep into the nun's eyes, delving into her mind.
"Sit down, Sister," he said quietly.
Slowly, her movements stiff and unnatural, the nun moved to the chair and sat down.
Gabriel passed his hand in front of her face. "Sleep now," he said, his voice quiet, soothing.
He felt a moment of resistance, but the old nun was powerless against the dark
"Till tomorrow,
cara mia
," he murmured. And for all the tomorrows of your life.
Chapter Seven
Images flashed through his mind—scattered images of writhing flames, of frightened children crying, of women weeping hysterically.
Pain seared through him. Excruciating, nauseating pain.
He fought through the layers of oblivion, his gaze opening on darkness. He knew immediately that it was still daylight and for a moment he lay there, confused. Never before had anything save the threat of imminent danger disturbed the heavy lethargy that weighed him down during the light of day.
Sara!
He knew in that moment that her life was in danger, that the pain that had seared through him had been her pain. His hands clenched at his sides as he tried to rise. It was like trying to fight his way out of quicksand, and he fell back, breathing heavily, fear making his heart beat fast.
Sara!
His mind screamed her name, echoing and reechoing like rolling thunder.
Sara!
She was hurt, perhaps dying, and until sundown there was nothing he could do.
Never before had he felt so helpless, so cursed. From the depths of his heart, he cried out, beseeching a kindly heaven to help her, to spare her life.
"Please. Please. Please."
Just that single word, repeated over and over again, as he was dragged down into the darkness.
When he woke, he could still feel her pain, her anguish, and he knew she was still clinging to life.
I'm coming, Sara
. He sent his thoughts across the miles, from his heart to hers.
Hang on
, cara.
I'm coming
.
"He's coming…" Struggling through a morass of pain, Sara repeated the words again and again.
"Lie still, child," Sister Mary Josepha said. "You must lie still."
"But he's… coming. I've… I've got to… be ready."
Sister Mary Josepha glanced up at Sister Mary Ynez. "Who's coming? Who can she talking about?"
Sister Mary Ynez shook her head. "Maybe she's thinking of her father. Will you stay with her while I look in on the others? I fear Elizabeth will not survive the night."
Sister Mary Josepha nodded. "Poor child," she murmured. And bowing her head,
she began to pray.
Gabriel walked down the narrow hallway, his nostrils filling with the odor of alcohol and antiseptic, of strong carbolic and ether. Of blood. So much blood.
The hunger rose within him, stabbing at him, wrapping around him. Blood. Warm and sweet.
He turned down another hallway, and the lust for blood was overshadowed by pain. Sara's pain. She was unconscious, but her silent screams of agony reached out to him, tearing at his heart, his soul.
On silent feet, he approached the doorway. She was lying on a narrow bed, covered by a thin white sheet. An elderly nun sat in a straight-backed wooden chair beside the bed, a well-worn rosary clutched in her gnarled hands.
The nun glanced up as he stepped into the room, her rheumy blue eyes widening in horror. "What are you doing here?"
Gabriel said nothing, his guilt over what he was rising up to choke him in the face of the old nun's purity of heart and soul.
"Spawn of the devil," she whispered, "why are you here?"
Her words cut him to the quick. "I mean her no harm, Sister, I assure you."
Sister Mary Josepha clutched her rosary to her breast, her thumb caressing the ivory crucifix. "Be gone!"
Gabriel shook his head. "I must see her, if only for a moment."
Though she was aged and small of stature, the nun bravely put herself between Gabriel and Sara.
"You will not have her." Sister Mary Josepha lifted the crucifix, thrusting it toward him. "Be gone, I say!"
Gabriel took a step backward and then, drawing on his revenant power, he gazed deep into the nun's eyes, delving into her mind.
"Sit down, Sister," he said quietly.
Slowly, her movements stiff and unnatural, the nun moved to the chair and sat down.
Gabriel passed his hand in front of her face. "Sleep now," he said, his voice quiet, soothing.
He felt a moment of resistance, but the old nun was powerless against the dark
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