hesitated.
Jamie had already figured out his secret, but she also sensed that he needed to say it. “Tell me,” she said softly.
“Well, the long and short of it is… don’t get too attached to me. I’m sorta dying. Stomach cancer.”
Despite knowing this already, Jamie felt the shock of the statement.
“I feel like a total heel, getting to know you only to dump this on you,” Jurgenson continued. “I think we’d better not see each other again. That would be totally unfair to you. As soon as you realize how devastatingly attractive I am, I’ll been taking my charms away forever.”
“Too late,” she said.
He nodded miserably.
“Since we can’t waste any time,” she said, “can I go home with you?”
#
Jamie never went back to the hideaway. Jurgenson––no, Robert: he was Robert to her now––had been married before, and his ex-wife had left her clothes behind. “She ran off with some rich guy,” he explained. “She didn’t need them anymore.” They fit Jamie perfectly.
She moved in that night.
“I’m a little weird,” she said the next morning as Robert got up to go to work. “I usually don’t get up until really late, and I go to bed really late, too. Is that all right with you?”
He laughed. “Darling, you never have to leave here at all if you don’t want to.”
While he was gone, she went around the house and removed the mirrors, and hid them in the back of the giant walk-in closet in the bedroom, the same closet the ex’s clothing was in and which she’d already figured out he never entered. Now she just had to avoid being in the bathroom at the same time as him.
Within a couple of days, they had worked out a routine. Jamie didn’t stir when Robert left for work, but was waiting for him with dinner ready when he came home. They went out after dinner, and when they got home, she kept him up a little later than he was accustomed to, but he managed to convey––in the best way possible––that he was good with their late-night gymnastics.
But on the third night, Robert was too ill to go anywhere, and he called in sick the next day. Jamie nursed him throughout the morning.
As he finally fell into a troubled sleep, it occurred to her that she had a solution to his problem. She could cure him––forever.
That posed a dilemma. She wouldn’t “cure” him without asking.
And she couldn’t ask without revealing what she was.
Chapter 11
“Where have you been?” Terrill exclaimed. “Everyone thinks you’re dead.”
“Good,” Michael said. “Just as I wanted.”
They stood in the middle of the homeless men’s hideaway and stared at each other.
Again, Michael held out his arms, and this time Terrill hugged him. “You left me alone for a long time,” he said into his Maker’s shoulder. “None of the other vampires had the slightest notion of what I was trying to do.”
Michael let him go and stepped back. “What did you expect? None of them have the experience we have. Most of them won’t feel what we feel for a thousand years yet.”
“Horsham never did,” Terrill said quietly.
“That was disappointing, I admit,” Michael said. “It’s not just about age, apparently.” He sat down in one of the wicker chairs and looked around. “So this is where your progeny is hiding?” he said, sounding curious. “Well, we’ve lived in worse places in our time, haven’t we?”
Terrill could only vaguely remember those earlier years. When you became a vampire, you forgot being human, and it seemed that the opposite was true, too… though as far as he knew, he alone had made the change from vampire to human. Or am I the only one? he thought, looking at his Maker. “How did you get here in the daylight?” he asked.
“I have found that the older I get––thousands of years older than any other vampire I know of––the more I can tolerate the sun, though I must still be careful,” Michael said. “I have to congratulate
Jamie had already figured out his secret, but she also sensed that he needed to say it. “Tell me,” she said softly.
“Well, the long and short of it is… don’t get too attached to me. I’m sorta dying. Stomach cancer.”
Despite knowing this already, Jamie felt the shock of the statement.
“I feel like a total heel, getting to know you only to dump this on you,” Jurgenson continued. “I think we’d better not see each other again. That would be totally unfair to you. As soon as you realize how devastatingly attractive I am, I’ll been taking my charms away forever.”
“Too late,” she said.
He nodded miserably.
“Since we can’t waste any time,” she said, “can I go home with you?”
#
Jamie never went back to the hideaway. Jurgenson––no, Robert: he was Robert to her now––had been married before, and his ex-wife had left her clothes behind. “She ran off with some rich guy,” he explained. “She didn’t need them anymore.” They fit Jamie perfectly.
She moved in that night.
“I’m a little weird,” she said the next morning as Robert got up to go to work. “I usually don’t get up until really late, and I go to bed really late, too. Is that all right with you?”
He laughed. “Darling, you never have to leave here at all if you don’t want to.”
While he was gone, she went around the house and removed the mirrors, and hid them in the back of the giant walk-in closet in the bedroom, the same closet the ex’s clothing was in and which she’d already figured out he never entered. Now she just had to avoid being in the bathroom at the same time as him.
Within a couple of days, they had worked out a routine. Jamie didn’t stir when Robert left for work, but was waiting for him with dinner ready when he came home. They went out after dinner, and when they got home, she kept him up a little later than he was accustomed to, but he managed to convey––in the best way possible––that he was good with their late-night gymnastics.
But on the third night, Robert was too ill to go anywhere, and he called in sick the next day. Jamie nursed him throughout the morning.
As he finally fell into a troubled sleep, it occurred to her that she had a solution to his problem. She could cure him––forever.
That posed a dilemma. She wouldn’t “cure” him without asking.
And she couldn’t ask without revealing what she was.
Chapter 11
“Where have you been?” Terrill exclaimed. “Everyone thinks you’re dead.”
“Good,” Michael said. “Just as I wanted.”
They stood in the middle of the homeless men’s hideaway and stared at each other.
Again, Michael held out his arms, and this time Terrill hugged him. “You left me alone for a long time,” he said into his Maker’s shoulder. “None of the other vampires had the slightest notion of what I was trying to do.”
Michael let him go and stepped back. “What did you expect? None of them have the experience we have. Most of them won’t feel what we feel for a thousand years yet.”
“Horsham never did,” Terrill said quietly.
“That was disappointing, I admit,” Michael said. “It’s not just about age, apparently.” He sat down in one of the wicker chairs and looked around. “So this is where your progeny is hiding?” he said, sounding curious. “Well, we’ve lived in worse places in our time, haven’t we?”
Terrill could only vaguely remember those earlier years. When you became a vampire, you forgot being human, and it seemed that the opposite was true, too… though as far as he knew, he alone had made the change from vampire to human. Or am I the only one? he thought, looking at his Maker. “How did you get here in the daylight?” he asked.
“I have found that the older I get––thousands of years older than any other vampire I know of––the more I can tolerate the sun, though I must still be careful,” Michael said. “I have to congratulate
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