CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The ride to Gellért Hill gave Michael time to calm down. He had almost achieved a state of relaxation when his new phone began demanding attention. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

"Michael? Something's happened to Kahn!"

"What's wrong?"

Selene made a strangled sound. "He's dead."

"What! How? Hold on, I'm almost there."

Once at the villa, Michael sat in the car for a moment, filled with dread. He was a direct descendant of the father of them all; it gave him a genetic edge. But did that heredity make him toxic to all others? He had a nagging suspicion that Kahn had died as a result of ingesting his blood. Something Selene had said kept coming back to him…'the viruses we transmit are deadly'. What if a direct source of the original virus was incompatible with the virus Selene and Kahn carried? Or, what if a vampire's virus was incompatible with the lycan strain? And if that were true, why hadn't Selene suffered the same fate as her fellow Death Dealer? A cold fear washed over him. He had been sharing his blood with her for days…over and over. Had he condemned her to death without knowing he did so? He climbed out of the car, steeling himself for the worst.

Selene met him at the door. He was gripped with a terrible fear at the sight of her. He pulled her into his arms, pressed his face into her hair. "Are you alright?" he asked. He held her away at arm's length, his eyes frantically searching her face. "Are you OK?"

"Of course I am! Michael, did you understand what I said on the phone? This isn't about me. Kahn is dead." She put her hands on his chest, pushed him away. "I've never seen anything like this; I don't understand what happened. I want you to see him." Selene was slowly shaking her head as she spoke, as if denying what she could not comprehend. She turned and led Michael up the stairs.

At the top step, she paused. "That human woman is with him."

"That 'human'? God, Selene, that's harsh."

She fixed him with a hard stare. "No, it isn't. She is human; we are not. She doesn't want us here." Selene raised her chin, challenge glinting in her eyes. "Are you coming or no?" She turned and walked into the closest doorway.

Michael's sense of dread deepened. The smell hit him before he stepped over the threshold. It was something he was intimately familiar with. It was the smell of the trauma unit at Ste. István. It was the suffocating bouquet of blood, fear and death. Michael clenched his jaw and entered.

Kahn's lover was seated next to an elaborately carved, massive bed. She looked up at Michael's approach and pressed a fist against her mouth. She was trembling so hard that the long, springy mass of her hair was bouncing. Her eyes were swollen and red and kept darting toward Selene. Michael came and knelt before her, pity in his expression. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to her. "So, so, sorry. But I have to ask you this; can you tell me what happened?" Her eyes darted to Selene again and then slowly rolled back toward Michael.

"She's not going to answer you. She hasn't spoken a word I could make any sense of." Selene said flatly. She straightened away from the wall she was leaning against and uncrossed her arms.

Michael continued to gaze at the woman before him, trying to find a way to comfort her. He tried to take her hand in his and she cried out, saying words he couldn't understand. She pointed to the bed, her fingers stabbing the air repeatedly. Then she began sobbing, clutching at her hair with hands crusted in dried blood.

"Do you think she would let me examine him?"

"No, I don't. She won't even let me near the bed. I suppose I could force the issue, but I have a feeling you'd like that no more than she would."

Michael grimaced. "I think you'd better. I have to look at him." Selene moved too fast for mortal eyes to follow. It seemed the words were still hanging in the air when Selene caught the hysterical woman in a steely embrace. The woman screamed and struggled, literally howling in terror. Michael reached for the bedclothes and said, "Take her out of here."

Kahn was lying on his side. His arms were crossed over his abdomen and his hands were curled into fists. His legs were tightly drawn up, grim evidence of an agonizing death. His skin was a grey husk sunken against his bones, which stood out in sharp relief. He did not in any way resemble the man Michael had met two nights before. Rust colored stains splattered the bedclothes, the mattress, the floor beside the bed. Michael examined his body for visible signs of injury and found none. He attempted to turn Kahn over and the stench of decomposition hit his nostrils. A large pool of blood was congealed beneath the body and the bedclothes stuck to Kahn's lower back. Michael peeled them away but again found no signs of injury or wounds. He carefully laid the dead vampire back into his original position and sat down. There was no good reason a seemingly healthy creature, vampire or no, should suddenly expel every ounce of his bodily fluids and die. The confirmation of Michael's dark suspicion was staring him in the face. Kahn had died after swallowing blood toxic to his own. In trying to offer the Death Dealer invincibility, Michael had instead handed him a death warrant.

"Fuck!" Michael cried. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! What did I do?" The sense of guilt he felt was magnified by the shrieks and sobs of the woman Kahn had loved. Her voice echoed down the hall. Well, Michael thought…imagine how loud she's going to scream when I take his body out of here and burn it in the forest behind the house. We can't possibly leave him here for humans to find. Then a more sobering thought occurred to him: how can we leave her here alone? I hope Selene's fancy law firm has a suggestion.

Nearly three hours later, Michael sat down beside the glowing embers that had been Kahn's body. He wearily wiped away sweat, leaving a long mark of soot across his forehead and down his cheek. His eyes were burning both from smoke and his grief. He was silently rehearsing the speech he wanted to deliver to Selene…the one in which he offered to leave her and never return. The speech in which he…well, in which he admitted his cowardice. He'd already watched someone he loved die, he could not bear witnessing Selene's death as well. And he was fairly sure he would if he continued to share his blood with her. Grimly, he waited as she approached.

"Is there another shovel somewhere?" she asked.

Michael shook his head. "I don't know. I only found the one; why?"

"I'll help you dig a grave for his ashes."

"You don't have to, I did it while you were arranging for Viktor's firm to come for Kahn's woman."

Selene sat down beside him. He took a deep breath and began, "I have something to tell you."

"Not now. I don't think I can listen to any words you have to say."

Doggedly, Michael continued. "Look, I know you blame me for whatever happened to Kahn."

Selene turned to him in surprise. "When did I say that?"

"You didn't. But I can't think of any other reason he would have died than because of the blood he took from me."

"Even if that's true, I don't blame you. I know you weren't trying to kill him. You're not a lycan version of a Death Dealer. "

"What about you?"

"What about me? What do you mean?"

"I killed him as sure as if I'd held a gun to his head, Selene. I don't want you to be next, so I…"

"Michael, stop. I mean it, stop. I can't hear this right now."

Michael turned and grabbed Selene's shoulders. "This is important! He shook Selene roughly. "I'm not going to watch you die!" The wind shifted. Michael blinked and his eyes watered.

She reached out and gently touched his face. "It's not going to happen to me. There aren't many things on this earth that can kill either of us anymore."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Please believe me."

"Selene…"

"No, Michael. I've just spent the last few hours restraining a screaming woman. I'm tired. Kahn was my friend. I just want to sit here for a few minutes without having to think or say anything. And then I want to leave and never come here again."

"I'm just going to say this and then I'll shut up: I will never lay a hand on you again. I will leave you and never look back if that what it takes to keep you alive," Michael said, his voice heavy with emotion.

"I told you. No one else is dying. Whatever power Alexander Corvinus had, he passed to me. And I've given it to you. Nothing is going to happen to us."

With that, she laid her head against Michael's chest and he put his arms around her. They sat quietly, taking comfort in each other while the funeral pyre burned down. Snow began to drift from the sky, hissing as it fell into the heat. Michael pulled Selene onto his lap and rocked her slowly. "Let me take you into the house and then I'll bury the ashes," he whispered into her ear. She nodded and he rose. He carried her back through the woods, humming an old lullaby.

"What's that?" she asked. "Are you singing?"

"It's a lullaby. I don't know the words anymore. My grandmother sang it to us when we were children."

"I don't remember being a child. It was so long ago. It was…" Selene stopped as tears tightened her throat. "I don't know why I'm crying. I don't even remember what my parents looked like."

"You're crying because you loved them. It doesn't matter how long ago it was. You're crying because you lost Viktor and now you've lost Kahn. And you loved them."

"Ah, Michael! I've had enough of death!" Selene pushed at his chest, impatient with her grief, impatient to be away from Gellért Hill. He held her closer and she shuddered. "I just want this to be done!"

Michael carried her into the villa and laid her on the sofa, unmindful of the soot and her snow dampened clothes. What did it matter? Kahn would never again return to his secret sanctuary. "I'll be back in a few minutes," Michael said as he turned away. Selene caught his sleeve, refusing to let go. She pulled him down, locking her arms around his neck as she pressed her mouth to his.

"Give me a minute" Michael murmured against her lips, "I'll be right back."

She began to cry. "Make me forget, just for a little while," she begged. "I've seen so much death. Stay here with me, make me forget. Michael…please, please." She reached down and fumbled with his belt. "Make me feel something other than pain."

Michael caught her hands and brought them to his lips. He kissed them, saying, "It'll only take a moment to bury him. Then we can leave."

"Please!" With that, Selene broke down utterly. Sobbing, she pulled her hands back from Michael's grip and ripped open his belt, her fingers greedy and insistent. She could feel him begin to rise. "I want to feel us," she panted. She was gasping, crying, sweating…begging Michael to join her.

When her hand reached into his blue jeans and gripped him, he jumped. He pushed her hand away. The look on his face was not one of passion, but of sadness, of resignation. He knew what it was like to search for any remedy to escape death and its reminders. He also knew he loved Selene and would do whatever she demanded of him to ease her pain. He pulled at Selene's boots as she shoved down her pants. She kicked them hastily off and before he could remove his shirt she reached for him, pulling him back down onto the sofa with her.

Many years later, Selene would look back on her time with Michael and know that she used him. She would remember that they constantly made love, no matter what or no matter where the circumstances led them. In those early days they slept little, always seeming to be rising from some frenzied interlude, whether it was in a darkened doorway, a stairwell, a stand of trees, or one of any number of beds, of any number of rooms. A look, a certain tone of voice, and they were drunk with arousal…searching for any place, anywhere to sate their hunger. Always, Selene could smell Michael in her clothes, on her skin, taste him on her tongue. It never mattered where they were, she had only to turn to him and he became eager to catch the spark she held. Yes, Selene looked back on this time and knew that she led Michael down a dark path to addiction and that he willingly followed. Followed so blindly that he could not have predicted what would come after. The warning signs were there and he shut his eyes against every single one.