"It's not over." Her voice was cold and matter-of-fact. It reminded Michael of glass, actually, that tone. Truth passed through it, but no emotion. He supposed that she had grown used to hard truths over the centuries. But that didn't change the fact that life as they'd known it was over for them both.
"No," he agreed breathlessly. He knew as well as she that it was just beginning—better, even. She had lost her home and father figure, while he had lost everything that was familiar to him—even his humanity. He was something new, and he was sure that even with the Elder vampire dead, there were those out there who wished him the same. That was a sobering thought. He'd been a doctor, devoted to saving lives…and now? What was he now? Just some sort of freak.
Michael glanced over, watching Selene grip the steering wheel of her new Jaguar (it seemed that even on the run, Selene had infinite resources) with such force that her already pale knuckles were bone white. She may have grown accustomed to hard truths, but that didn't make them any easier to bear. Centuries of life didn't teach a person to deal with something that couldn't be dealt with.
"We can't go back to the mansion. Even with Viktor…especially with Viktor…. They won't allow us to live."
"I know," replied Michael quietly. It was taking all his strength not to ask the question that burned in this thoughts from the moment he'd become…whatever he was. What are we going to do now? He wouldn't ask it, wouldn't put it to words, but he knew they were both thinking it.
They were little more than strangers still; strangers who shared and inexplicable connection. They had sacrificed so much for each other, and yet it wasn't over. By killing Viktor, Selene had avenged her family's murder, but it had made her forever outcast from the vampire nation, from the only people who had a chance at understanding her.
Michael, on the other hand, didn't mind uprooting his life and moving somewhere no one knew him. He'd done it once before, after all. After her death. He'd left New York and moved here, to Budapest, a city where he could forget. Or try to let go and move on, whatever. Or lose himself so deeply in work that the feelings of loss were distant, as if they belonged to another person.
No, he didn't mind restarting his life…but he couldn't help feeling responsible for the lycans. Maybe it was some remnant of Lucien's memories, or perhaps it was that he knew that it was the fallen commander's last wish. Either way, something inside Michael didn't want to abandon them to the Death Dealers, who he knew would come. They knew no other way.
And yet he wanted—needed—to be near Selene. She was his anchor, his solid ground in the middle of a vast dark ocean that begged to swallow him whole and keep him forever. And he got the feeling that he would become her anchor as well, in a way. At least, that's what he dared to hope.
A thought occurred to him all of a sudden, and he chuckled. The pale Death Dealer glanced over at him like he was crazy. Perhaps he was. "Sorry," he responded. "It's just…you're driving." A blank look was his only answer. "I mean, you're driving, and we have no idea where we're going. I guess that just…I don't know. It's ironic, or something."
Selene turned back to the road. "I'm taking you to a safehouse," she replied, her accented voice betraying no emotion.
"Jesus Christ, another one? You going to chain me to a chair this time too?" he spat, slightly bitter. "Are we actually going to be safe this time?"
"There's nobody following us. I've checked. No one knows where we're headed, and I can't see any reason for them to search for us there. We'll be safe enough."
Michael was relieved that they weren't leaving the city; though he wasn't sure he trusted Selene's assurances of safety. He looked out the window of the Jag, up to the nearly-full moon. It was waning, but he still felt it calling to him. He knew all he had to do was reach out to it, and he'd become that…thing…again. The monster that now dwelled just under his skin. He didn't want to become that thing ever again, but to save Selene…he'd Change in a second. The beast in him had marked her for its own. She was his to protect in a way that had nothing to do with reason, and everything to do with instinct.
She was always so calm, like nothing in the world could faze her. Michael often wondered what went on behind her chocolate orbs, and most of the time came to the conclusion that he didn't want to know. What happened to a person when they lived in a society that wouldn't accept weakness? When they had lived that way for centuries? Sometimes he imagined that Selene had forgotten how to feel anything. He understood that, at least. After losing his wife, he'd wanted to do the same.
But then he would catch a fleeting glimpse of something in her eyes, some hot emotion, and he knew again why he needed her so badly.