Chapter 15

Venice, Italy

Amanda struggled out of her nightmare. She had been with Rebecca... trying to warn her to be wary of Luther... trying to help her teacher as once Rebecca had helped her... only... Rebecca could not hear Amanda... could not see Amanda... and Amanda watched helplessly as Rebecca knelt before Luther and died.

Tears sprang to Amanda's eyes as she curled around the pillow... hugging it and feeling the loss of her dearest friend... Why? It had been years... Was it being here in Rebecca's old home that was doing this? Or was it something else? Guilt was not something she often felt... but she felt it now... guilt that she had failed all of those near to her.

She had failed Rebecca by never reaching her own potential. Instead of learning to face her fears and her choices... she continued to run... continued to steal... continued to find the easy way out. Whenever life became difficult... she left.

She had failed Kenneth by dying and by not searching for him long enough to have found him... guided him... helped him to choose a better path... Somewhere out there was an eight hundred year old immortal trapped in the body of a child... a child who was not a child. The last time she had seen him, Kenneth had tried to take Duncan's head... and the kiss the boy had given Amanda just before that attempt, had been that of an old man... frustrated beyond words that he could never have the one thing he wanted. Her! She might yet have to kill him...

She had failed Duncan by her inability to commit to him once he had been ready for that commitment. For centuries she had pursued him... asked him to run away with her... but he never had... not really. Then... after his dreams of how her life might have been without him... once he was ready... she had run... and was running still... because what he was asking for was a commitment to him... a commitment Amanda had suddenly realized she couldn't make.

But most of all, Amanda had failed Nick by not trusting him... not allowing him to make that final decision... by choosing immortality for him rather than letting him die. And yet... if she had asked and he had said, "Yes,"... would that not have endangered his re-awakening? Without that shock of an unexpected death... would he have simply died anyway? There were legends about that, Rebecca had once told her. "We never tell them... we must leave them to fate! Else... they may never become all that they should." Nick's fate was to die by poison... and Amanda had interfered... not being able to just let him die. And he had hated her for it.

She had come here... to Rebecca's old home then... to try and learn to be a better person. To learn to take responsibility for her actions... to stop running... to face who and what she was... and to learn how to make a difference. Day by day she focused on her shortcomings as she tried to face all the choices of her existence... and the emptiness her life had become.

Some days were good. Amanda would sit in the sun and read or garden. She'd walk along the countryside and observe the mortals in the humdrum activities of their single life. She'd watch the children and laugh at their games. She'd listen to music... she'd draw or paint... and dream of better days.

Some days were bad. Amanda would huddle in her bed and weep and not know why this behavior had overtaken her life. She'd storm through the villa and throw things in exasperation. Bella... her housekeeper would follow along behind her and once the storm passed... she'd set the house to rights once more. There were few breakables left.

But most days simply were... one unremarkable day after another. Amanda was often bored and depressed by the sameness of daily life. But it was that sameness... she had never had... had always feared... and must learn to accept. Once she could face that... then perhaps she would be ready to face the world once more.

So... here she remained... and one day followed another.

If she were dreaming again... likely it would be a bad day... and she would toss the crockery and throw the furniture, screaming until she could scream no more and lay exhausted on the cool marble floor.

"I'm trying Rebecca... I'm really, really trying... but sometimes... it's just so very, very hard!" Amanda screamed to her departed teacher and heard only the sound of her own voice in echoes about the room. She was alone... she had no one... Amanda needed to rebuild her life... She needed to find a balance and make amends for all that she had done and failed to do... She needed peace. Amanda wadded the silk sheets in her hands and pounded the mattress again and again. Still... all she heard was the sound of her own voice.

Were the answers she sought even here? Or was this simply another means of running away from responsibility? Of running away from commitment? Was she substituting one evasion for another?

She threw back the sheets and stormed through the villa seeking to wreak destruction. If she destroyed everything... would she then be free? Could she then move on with her life?

Outside... a full moon shown down on a peaceful countryside. But for Amanda... there was no peace.

***

New York

Phillip and Eleanor paused at the doors to St. Patrick's. They had entered with Derrick... but as usual... Eleanor's unease on holy ground had made her halt just inside the door.

The boy... as though he had not a care in the world... had continued in and made his way to the small chapel where the remembrance candles burned in ruby red cups. There were banks and banks of them. He knelt before them and stared for a long time... then reached over to light one. Derrick pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket... squirreled away from other times and other days... He carefully inserted it all into the poor box.

A passing priest noticed the boy putting the money in and smiled to himself. The soup kitchen would have funds to operate... the food shuttles would have gas... the church could continue its ministries for another day. He glanced up at the boy's "parents" at the door... He smiled at the dark-haired young woman and the bearded man... wondering why they did not enter... but he had duties to attend to and passed them by...

Phillip put his arm around his student and watched with wonder as the boy lit another candle. "Just where is all this coming from? With what we know of his past now... this doesn't seem to fit!" he whispered.

"I know," sighed Eleanor. "Now do you see why he entrances me still. He never explained this... it was just something he always felt the need to do."

They'd come to the cathedral at Derrick's insistence. The trip to the Statue of Liberty had gone well. There had been nothing unforeseen in the ferryboat ride out and the walk around Liberty Island or their close-up views of the statue. They couldn't climb it... it was still closed to the public. But as he had gazed out at the waters surrounding the island... Derrick had murmured, "I should have gone to see the ocean... I should have crossed it by boat to explore the new land."

A shiver had gone down Phillip's back at that point, so when the boy had wished to see a church... the Greek had meekly nodded. Eleanor had hugged Derrick and agreed, but Phillip had seen tears brimming in her eyes. Was this what she had dealt with for four years? No wonder losing him had torn at her. No wonder she had wondered if there were something more to this boy than just a boy who needed her in his life.

When Derrick was finished with the candles and his donation... he walked quietly back to the couple and took their hands with a smile. They could go on now... there was still so much to see in this city... so many streets to explore... so many people to help... so much to learn and experience. For the first time in several months... Derrick's mind was calm and at peace. He gave Eleanor's hand an extra squeeze and walked out into the late afternoon sun.

***

London

Nathan Barlow'd had little success in studying the peerage and land records... it was almost as if this Lord Gray did not exist. It was almost as if someone had altered the original records to erase any mention of him other than that one little slip concerning the Earl of Madison. Barlow pulled another volume from the shelf. For someone to have been that careful... he'd had to have been immortal... and a very cagey one, too.

This would not be easy. The one slip had occurred in some recently published memoirs of an ancestor by someone who may have been trying to make some fast cash. Racy memoirs based on an old set of family diaries must have seemed a quick solution to a cash-flow problem. Barlow had no idea if the book had actually made any money... but at least it had made it into print. In official records... as he'd told Cassandra... Fitzcairn was the only possible immortal mentioned... but were there other of these unofficial records? He hoped so. Barlow liked being paid well... and the psychic immortal paid well. Besides... there was one payment she teased him with and had never delivered. Perhaps this time... yes... if he could find the crystal... she would finally offer herself to him.

Barlow opened the volume he planned to study. He groaned... No index! Sadly he settled in for a long afternoon. At least his speed-reading would get a workout.