Chapter 6

She stood in the middle of the dark street, her hands held out at her sides, her face thrown up into the driving rain. She relished the soaking, felt the blood sluice off her skin and clothes into the gutter below. She imagined it mixing with the purity of the rainwater, swirling around her feet before finally rushing down the storm drain and out into the blackness of the sewers. If only she could clean the taint from her soul with such ease.

"Life," he had said. And, not understanding, she had forced him to explain it to her. She groaned aloud as she remembered what he had said.

"Your fate is much worse than mine, Helen."

She had buried her face in his chest. "Am I to die, then?"

"No, my dear. You are to live. Vampires are immortal. They never die. You have taken some of this attribute into yourself, and though I do not believe you will never perish, it will not be for many centuries to come. You are doomed to watch everything you know and love wither away around you, while you stay as you are, young and beautiful."

Horrified, her mind unable to comprehend what he was telling her, Helen had stumbled to her feet, and ran out into the night, away from the damning words she was hearing, Caleb calling after her in the dark.

Lightning flashed before her eyes followed almost immediately by a peal of thunder that shook the windows of the dilapidated buildings around her, but she did not flinch, did not even move. The rain continued to wash over her, cooling her fevered skin even as the rage built up within her body, burning in her stomach, and creeping up her sides and back, until she began to shake with the intensity of it. She was aware of water droplets on her lips, then on her tongue as she opened her mouth to scream, shattering the sodden peace of the deserted street. Her cry echoed off the brick and mortar, returning to her sounding frightened and forlorn. She dropped to her knees, her back bowing under the weight of what she had done.

Time slowed, and Helen continued to kneel on the rough stones, the rain beating on her back and neck. She knew she should get inside. Go back to Caleb's home and dry off before she caught a chill. She chuckled to herself. Could she still become ill? Her chuckle turned to a full laugh, then to a screech of madness, and she knew she was losing her mind. What had she done? Her arrogance had cost her everything, and now here she sat raving like a loon in the middle of the street in the pouring rain.

"Helen," came a voice from the shadows. Magnus jumped to her feet, and swayed a little as the world spun. Her legs trembled uncontrollably and she dropped to one knee, then forced herself up again.

Redding walked slowly into the light of a street lamp and stopped several yards from her. She could see him clearly. Perhaps the rain was letting up, or perhaps the ability to see in the dark was another side effect of the transfer.

"What do you want?" she said, her voice strident and harsh. "What more could you possibly want from me?"

"Your forgiveness."

Helen stumbled again, this time in shock, and Redding started forward as if to catch her, but stopped himself before he'd moved more than an inch. Helen opened her mouth, but all she could manage was, "You want what?"

"Your forgiveness, Helen. I have wronged you. I took your mother from you, I tried to murder you, not once but three times."

Anger burned white hot through her body, giving her the strength to stand. But just as she opened her mouth to rage at him, it left her in a rush. They were the same now. He had condemned her to a long and lonely life fated to watch her loved ones die over and over, but she had damned him to an eternity of desperately needing to feed on human blood, but of feeling the morality of doing so. It seemed a fair exchange.

"Very well." she said, exhausted and swaying. "You have it."

"Thank you, Helen. Perhaps we will meet again someday. Farewell." And he was gone, melting into the shadows as if he never existed.

Magnus started back the way she had come, her feet dragging, her mind numb. At some point Caleb met her and carried her all the way to her home, where he handed her over to Ransome. The two men exchanged solemn words, and Caleb promised to come check on her in the morning.

Robert carried Helen up to her room and stripped off her wet and bloody clothes. He dressed her in a warm nightgown and bundled her up in blankets before the fire. As she warmed and dried off, Ransome gaped silently at her, noting the change in her appearance. Her hair was now straight and very dark, and where the blood from the vampire had mingled with it, a vibrant pink streak now shone out of the brown mass. But he kept quiet. There would be enough time to tell her when she had somewhat recovered.

Helen was exhausted, but her body would not rest. Too much had happened in such a short time, and she had not had any time to process any of it. Tears came unbidden to her eyes and silent sobs wracked her body. Robert held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring words of comfort to her. Finally, she drifted off to sleep, to dream in nightmares, and to remember.