shivered and held very still, but there was no hunger in his eyes, only heartache and sadness. The depth of it overwhelmed my defenses and crashed over me, and I struggled to keep from drowning in his despair. My fingers flexed as I fought the urge to throw my arms around him and let him hold me, but my need for reassurance was quieted by the fear that Simon had hammered into my heart—my husband was not himself, and he could not be trusted.
“I love you. You are my soul mate, and I will love you to the end of my days. Nothing will ever change that,” Michael said.
I swallowed hard, choked with too much emotion. “Your days are infinite. Mine are not. Perhaps it’s best that we prepare for that.”
“No. Nothing frightens me more than the thought of facing a life without you. We should treasure every moment we have together instead of wasting them on petty squabbles.”
“This isn’t a petty squabble.” I drew away from him and rubbed my arms for warmth. “This is a serious matter. You already have a life that I am not a part of. We’ve been living in a fairy tale these past few years, avoiding the inevitable. But the truth is that I am simply not allowed to stay with you. The Order has a prior claim, and their will is more important than mine.”
“That isn’t true. This isn’t about the will of the Order. I became a chronicler because it was the best decision for our family.”
“But it was your decision, and I had no say in it. You never once thought of choosing me over them, and now you have a place of honor within their ranks, and I can’t be a part of that.”
“You’re my soul mate. We belong together.”
“You should go before Simon realizes that you are missing,” I said. He began to argue, and I shook my head. “Please, just go. It has been a long day, and I don’t have the strength to fight.”
Michael paused, and then he drew me into his arms with slow, patient movements like a man afraid to spook a skittish horse. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head.
“I don’t want to fight with you about this, either, but I’m not giving up,” he assured me. “I love you too much for that. But you are tired and should get some sleep. Rest well, darling.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. He drew away, and I was torn between the desire to ask him to stay and the fear of what would happen if I did.
After he left I gave up on my hair and climbed into bed. I dreamed of Michael, of being wrapped in his embrace. He sank his fangs into my throat, and the pure ecstasy of it caused me to moan as loudly as the whores had in the necromancers’ blood brothel. I awoke with a start, filled with terrible loneliness, and didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
Chapter Five
I spent the next few days doing everything in my power to avoid the chroniclers and to appease my sister and her husband, all of whom continued to disapprove of my work with Miss Dubois. There was little I could do to help the investigation until the night of the salon, so I was forced to be patient. Simon and Michael went out during the evening, supposedly conducting their investigation for the Order, but they did not ask for my aid or share their findings. Judging by the ever-increasing degree of Simon’s scowl, I assumed that they were not making progress.
Jo seemed placated by my change in focus, but in truth my mood did not improve. I worried about my future with my husband. Perhaps it would be best if I remained in London in the employ of Miss Dubois. I would be able to put my magic to practical use and be close to my sister and her family. Of course the constant headache that plagued me within the city limits might kill me or drive me mad, possibly both…
No, I would soldier on like a proper English wife while I withered like a dying flower and Michael persisted as he was, ageless. I pondered composing a poem about my dilemma: “An Elegy for My Soul Mate, Who Is Undead”. I could read it at the salon, though
“I love you. You are my soul mate, and I will love you to the end of my days. Nothing will ever change that,” Michael said.
I swallowed hard, choked with too much emotion. “Your days are infinite. Mine are not. Perhaps it’s best that we prepare for that.”
“No. Nothing frightens me more than the thought of facing a life without you. We should treasure every moment we have together instead of wasting them on petty squabbles.”
“This isn’t a petty squabble.” I drew away from him and rubbed my arms for warmth. “This is a serious matter. You already have a life that I am not a part of. We’ve been living in a fairy tale these past few years, avoiding the inevitable. But the truth is that I am simply not allowed to stay with you. The Order has a prior claim, and their will is more important than mine.”
“That isn’t true. This isn’t about the will of the Order. I became a chronicler because it was the best decision for our family.”
“But it was your decision, and I had no say in it. You never once thought of choosing me over them, and now you have a place of honor within their ranks, and I can’t be a part of that.”
“You’re my soul mate. We belong together.”
“You should go before Simon realizes that you are missing,” I said. He began to argue, and I shook my head. “Please, just go. It has been a long day, and I don’t have the strength to fight.”
Michael paused, and then he drew me into his arms with slow, patient movements like a man afraid to spook a skittish horse. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head.
“I don’t want to fight with you about this, either, but I’m not giving up,” he assured me. “I love you too much for that. But you are tired and should get some sleep. Rest well, darling.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. He drew away, and I was torn between the desire to ask him to stay and the fear of what would happen if I did.
After he left I gave up on my hair and climbed into bed. I dreamed of Michael, of being wrapped in his embrace. He sank his fangs into my throat, and the pure ecstasy of it caused me to moan as loudly as the whores had in the necromancers’ blood brothel. I awoke with a start, filled with terrible loneliness, and didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
Chapter Five
I spent the next few days doing everything in my power to avoid the chroniclers and to appease my sister and her husband, all of whom continued to disapprove of my work with Miss Dubois. There was little I could do to help the investigation until the night of the salon, so I was forced to be patient. Simon and Michael went out during the evening, supposedly conducting their investigation for the Order, but they did not ask for my aid or share their findings. Judging by the ever-increasing degree of Simon’s scowl, I assumed that they were not making progress.
Jo seemed placated by my change in focus, but in truth my mood did not improve. I worried about my future with my husband. Perhaps it would be best if I remained in London in the employ of Miss Dubois. I would be able to put my magic to practical use and be close to my sister and her family. Of course the constant headache that plagued me within the city limits might kill me or drive me mad, possibly both…
No, I would soldier on like a proper English wife while I withered like a dying flower and Michael persisted as he was, ageless. I pondered composing a poem about my dilemma: “An Elegy for My Soul Mate, Who Is Undead”. I could read it at the salon, though
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