Immortal Sins

He grinned at her, obviously aware that she found him attractive. It irritated her that she couldn't hide her feelings from him.

"A wonderful invention, hot running water," he remarked, sitting beside her.

She nodded. Of course, it was something she had always taken for granted, like her computer, her digital camera, and her cell phone. It was amazing to think of all the things she used on a daily basis that had been unheard of only a few years ago, things like fax machines and satellite TV, GPS systems and CD players and iPods. Not so long ago, movies had been made in black and white, cars had running boards and ran on gas that cost only twenty-five cents a gallon, phones had rotary dials, and computers had taken up a whole room. People had listened to music on vinyl records. Televisions hadn't come with remotes or had more than a hundred channels. Her great grandmother had used a wringer washing machine, dried her clothes on a line in the backyard, and typed on a manual typewriter. Kari blew out a sigh. Such things were as foreign to her as airplanes and automobiles were to him.

"I must ask for one more favor," he said, a note of regret in his voice.

"What do you need?"

"I need to find a coven."

"A coven!" she exclaimed. "Good grief, don't tell me you're a witch, too!"

His laughter, deep and rich, filled the air. "No, but I need to find one."

Kari frowned. How on earth did you go about finding a witch? Witches R Us? "Maybe the Internet," she remarked, thinking out loud. "You can find practically anything there."

She went to her desk and sat down. After booting up her computer, she went to Google and typed in covens. As always, she was amazed by the number of hits. There were over three hundred thousand listings for covens, pagans, and witches, as well as related links to books and movies. One link listed covens by age groups. There was a link to a Wiccan directory, listings for Wiccan clergy, New England covens, a site that debated the pros and cons of being a solitary practitioner or joining a coven.

"That one," Rourke said, pointing at a link that listed covens in Europe. Kari clicked on the site. It opened to something called "The Wiccan Rede." It sounded like advice for witches. She read a few lines out loud.

"Cast the Circle thrice about, To keep all evil spirits out. To bind the spell every time, Let the spell be spake in rhyme. Soft of eye an' light of touch--Speak little, listen much. When the Moon rides at Her peak, then your heart's desire seek. Widdershins go when the Moon doth wane, an' the Werewolf howls by the dread Wolfs bane."

Reading over her shoulder, Rourke asked, "Does it say how to get in touch with a witch?"

Kari searched the site and came up with an e-mail address. She explained what e-mail was and then asked, "What do you want to say?"

"Ask if they know of a wizard named Josef Vilnius, and if he still lives."

"You're kidding, right? How could he still be alive after such a long time?"

"Wizards live longer than mere mortals."

"Must be nice," Kari muttered. She thought a moment, then typed her message: I'm trying to locate a wizard named Josef Vilnius. If you have any information about him or his whereabouts, please let me know. Kari.

She hit SEND, did a little more searching, sent out five more e-mails, and signed off. "All we can do now is wait."

Rourke raked a hand through his hair. He had already waited three hundred years.

Kari turned to look at Rourke. "Do you want to go and check out the shed?" she asked.

"Check out?"

"Look it over."

"Ah, yes."

He followed her outside, waited while she opened the door. As she had said, it wasn't much, just a small, square building she used for storing her patio furniture, holiday decorations, and junk she didn't need but couldn't bring herself to throw away.

She flipped the light switch but nothing happened. "I guess the bulb burned out. I'll go get a new one."

"No need."

"But it's so dark in there, how will you...Never mind, don't tell me. Night vision is another by-product."

Rourke grinned at her. "One of many."

He stepped inside and looked around. The floor was made of wood, there were a number of boxes piled along the walls. Two were marked "Christmas," one was marked "Halloween," another "Easter." Two others were marked "Miscellaneous Junk."

"So, what do you think?" Kari asked from the doorway.

"It will do."

"What will you, ah, sleep on? There's a twin bed in the spare room that you can use. Or do you need a...you know?"

"A bed will be fine."

"You could just sleep in the spare room, you know. It would be a lot more comfortable."

"This suits me well enough, although I would like to keep my few belongings in the house, if you do not mind."

"I don't mind," she said, and then wondered if she was making a mistake. What was she thinking? Did she really want a vampire sharing her living space? Did she really want to send him away? "I don't mind," she said again.

He rapped his knuckles on the door. "I will need to install a lock on the inside. Will that be a problem?"

"No, of course not."

He didn't tell her he would need to put other, paranormal wards around the building to protect him while he slept. He doubted anyone would be looking for a vampire in a shed in her backyard. People today did not believe the Undead existed, but it was always wise to be cautious. Too bad he hadn't remembered that three hundred years ago.

He took a deep breath and the scent of the woman filled his nostrils. She was warm and vibrant and alive, so alive. Unable to resist, he moved toward her.

Kari's heart skipped a beat as Rourke loomed over her. In the dark, she couldn't see him very well, but she was aware of his nearness with every fiber of her being, and then his arms were sliding around her waist, drawing her body ever closer to his.

His nearness went through her like a jolt of electricity.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice little more than a squeak.

"Nothing." He bent toward her, his lips lightly brushing hers. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"You're welcome."

Lowering his head to hers, he kissed her, his lips lingering on hers in a slow and subtle exploration. Her lips felt bereft when he took his mouth from hers.

"Thank you for freeing me from that accursed painting."

She swallowed hard. "You're welcome."

He kissed her again, his tongue boldly seeking hers this time. Pleasure unfurled deep within the very center of her being, unleashed by the sweet intoxication of his kiss. She should be thanking him, she thought. No one else had ever made her feel like this, as if her very bones were melting.