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teacher.
Reluctantly Martin did so. She was gaunt, her beauty burned thin, her skin as white and chill as snow. She looked even less human than when she slept.
The abbot knelt by her other side. "Luisa," he said commandingly, and laid both hands atop her heart. Martin knew he was trying to use his healing powers.
For one long, dark moment, nothing happened. She is gone, he thought, even as his mind groaned in denial. Then, like a person saved from drowning, she drew a ragged breath. Martin nearly collapsed in relief. Her eyelids fluttered. She licked her lips. "What—What happened?"
Though she looked at Martin, the abbot answered. "I misjudged, I'm afraid. That energy was poison to you. You must not try to take it again."
"Poison…" A slow, shining tear rolled down her cheek.
Martin knew what she was thinking: that all that love was not for her. She did not understand her vision had been a creation of her mind. No holy messenger had rejected her. No gates of heaven had been closed.
Throat tight, he brushed her tear away. "Luisa, the things you saw were just a dream. Your god, if he exists and if he is the source of what we call the energy of the earth, gives this bounty equally to saint and sinner. I do not know why you could not drink, but it is no judgment against your soul, merely an experiment that went awry—as if I were to eat a horse's hay."
She smiled but the attempt was weak. "Tired," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. "Need to sleep."
Martin and his teacher watched her draw a score of breaths. Then, their thoughts in accord, they stepped quietly away.
The abbot rubbed his chin. "This troubles me," he said. "We have left her weaker than before. Even if I found another method to attempt, I am not sure she could withstand it. I am not even sure she would survive a journey home. She must feed, Martin, in the manner of her kind."
"We cannot ask any of the monks to let her drink."
"No," the abbot agreed, "we cannot."
Martin's heart thumped in his chest. He knew what the abbot was asking and he knew he could refuse. If he did not offer up his blood, Martin had no doubt his guide would volunteer. Even if it killed him, Geshe Rinpoche would do it. That was the kind of man his teacher was.
"She will put me in her thrall," Martin said, the rasp of words not quite a protest.
His teacher's gaze was steady. "I believe you are strong enough to resist her."
If I want to resist her, Martin thought, far from certain that he did. He remembered Luisa's harem, the slide of her slim, pale hands along straining skin. How easy it would be, how tempting, to make her upyr magic his excuse for giving in.
Then a flash of intuition struck. "This is a test," he said. "You want to know if I am worthy to take my vow."
His teacher neither confirmed nor denied the guess. He put his hand on Martin's arm. "You must decide soon," he said. "I do not think our visitor has much time."
Chapter Five
MARTIN'S strong arms lifted her from the cushions and eased her onto his lap. Even that small motion made the room spin around her head. She moaned against the musty sweetness of his robes, smelling incense and skin and an acrid touch of fear.
She thought the fear must be for her.
"Shh," he soothed. One hand stroked the pale gold curtain of her hair while the other cradled her back. He pressed her mouth to his neck. "Drink."
The word made her jerk with longing. She drew back from temptation and stared.
His gaze evaded hers. "I know you've been trying not to, but you are weak."
"Martin…"
"I know you will not hurt me." The words were fierce. "Just…"
"Just?"
"Please do not make me do things I would not wish."
Then she understood. Smiling softly, she flattened her palm against his smoothly shaven cheek. His skin was so warm it seemed to burn, its color rich against the whiteness of her hand. His eyes glittered in
Reluctantly Martin did so. She was gaunt, her beauty burned thin, her skin as white and chill as snow. She looked even less human than when she slept.
The abbot knelt by her other side. "Luisa," he said commandingly, and laid both hands atop her heart. Martin knew he was trying to use his healing powers.
For one long, dark moment, nothing happened. She is gone, he thought, even as his mind groaned in denial. Then, like a person saved from drowning, she drew a ragged breath. Martin nearly collapsed in relief. Her eyelids fluttered. She licked her lips. "What—What happened?"
Though she looked at Martin, the abbot answered. "I misjudged, I'm afraid. That energy was poison to you. You must not try to take it again."
"Poison…" A slow, shining tear rolled down her cheek.
Martin knew what she was thinking: that all that love was not for her. She did not understand her vision had been a creation of her mind. No holy messenger had rejected her. No gates of heaven had been closed.
Throat tight, he brushed her tear away. "Luisa, the things you saw were just a dream. Your god, if he exists and if he is the source of what we call the energy of the earth, gives this bounty equally to saint and sinner. I do not know why you could not drink, but it is no judgment against your soul, merely an experiment that went awry—as if I were to eat a horse's hay."
She smiled but the attempt was weak. "Tired," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. "Need to sleep."
Martin and his teacher watched her draw a score of breaths. Then, their thoughts in accord, they stepped quietly away.
The abbot rubbed his chin. "This troubles me," he said. "We have left her weaker than before. Even if I found another method to attempt, I am not sure she could withstand it. I am not even sure she would survive a journey home. She must feed, Martin, in the manner of her kind."
"We cannot ask any of the monks to let her drink."
"No," the abbot agreed, "we cannot."
Martin's heart thumped in his chest. He knew what the abbot was asking and he knew he could refuse. If he did not offer up his blood, Martin had no doubt his guide would volunteer. Even if it killed him, Geshe Rinpoche would do it. That was the kind of man his teacher was.
"She will put me in her thrall," Martin said, the rasp of words not quite a protest.
His teacher's gaze was steady. "I believe you are strong enough to resist her."
If I want to resist her, Martin thought, far from certain that he did. He remembered Luisa's harem, the slide of her slim, pale hands along straining skin. How easy it would be, how tempting, to make her upyr magic his excuse for giving in.
Then a flash of intuition struck. "This is a test," he said. "You want to know if I am worthy to take my vow."
His teacher neither confirmed nor denied the guess. He put his hand on Martin's arm. "You must decide soon," he said. "I do not think our visitor has much time."
Chapter Five
MARTIN'S strong arms lifted her from the cushions and eased her onto his lap. Even that small motion made the room spin around her head. She moaned against the musty sweetness of his robes, smelling incense and skin and an acrid touch of fear.
She thought the fear must be for her.
"Shh," he soothed. One hand stroked the pale gold curtain of her hair while the other cradled her back. He pressed her mouth to his neck. "Drink."
The word made her jerk with longing. She drew back from temptation and stared.
His gaze evaded hers. "I know you've been trying not to, but you are weak."
"Martin…"
"I know you will not hurt me." The words were fierce. "Just…"
"Just?"
"Please do not make me do things I would not wish."
Then she understood. Smiling softly, she flattened her palm against his smoothly shaven cheek. His skin was so warm it seemed to burn, its color rich against the whiteness of her hand. His eyes glittered in
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