Dead Perfect

“Ronan?”

“There is a little pain, but nothing as bad as what you’re suffering now.”

“Can you feel what I’m feeling, too?”

“I know you’re hurting.” She was needing his blood more and more often, no doubt a sign that the disease was growing worse, and that her time was growing shorter.

Her fingers kneaded the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to make a decision I’ll be sorry for later.”

He nodded, his dark eyes filled with understanding. “It was not a life I would have chosen,” he remarked. “It was thrust upon me, and yet…” He paused a moment, looking inward. “I do not regret it now.”

“How long have you been a vampire?”

“Five hundred and thirteen years.”

“Five hundred and thirteen years!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my.”

“A long time,” he remarked, as if realizing it for the first time.

“No kidding.” Five hundred years. Shannah could scarcely imagine such a thing. She studied him carefully. Who would ever believe he had been born five centuries ago? She was certainly having trouble believing it! “To live so long,” she murmured. It was incredible. “The things you must have seen, but…five hundred years.”

He grunted softly. It seemed like an eternity, the way she said it. Of course, it was a long time for anyone to live, man or vampire. Strange, how quickly the years and centuries had gone by.

Time was something he rarely thought of these days except in terms of book deadlines. He had roamed the world, never in a hurry. What he didn’t see this year would still be there the next year or the next. In his travels, he had seen the Great Pyramids of Giza. The pyramid had been built by the Egyptian pharaoh, Khufu, of the Fourth Dynasty around the year 2560 BC to serve as his tomb when he died. An Arab proverb stated that, “Man fears time, time fears the pyramids.”

He had seen the Taj Mahal in India, built by Shah Jehan who had ordered the building of the Taj Mahal in honor of his wife, who had borne him fourteen children in eighteen years and died in childbirth.

He had walked among the stones at Stonehenge in England, prowled the ruins of Machu Picchu in the mountains of Peru, strolled in the shadow of the Great Wall of China, stared in wonder at the Coliseum in Rome.

And all of it alone. What would it be like to see it all anew through Shannah’s eyes?

Shannah. She was regarding him curiously, her head cocked to one side.

“Is there something else you want to know?” he asked.

“Why don’t you just read my mind?” she muttered, somewhat flippantly.

“Sometimes conversation is pleasant. What’s troubling you?”

“I was just thinking…you’ve lived for over five hundred years…”

“Go on.”

“You must have known a lot of women in that time.”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?”

She shrugged. “I guess you’ve been married several times.”

“No. Just once, when I was still a mortal man.”

“Really?” She couldn’t hide her shock. “Why? Haven’t you been awfully lonely?”

“At times.”

“Surely you’ve…I mean, in five hundred years, you must have…” She felt her cheeks grow hot as a new thought occurred to her. Maybe vampires couldn’t make love. Maybe they were impotent. But no, she had felt the telltale evidence of his desire for her on several occasions.

“I haven’t lived like a monk, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said dryly. “I may be a vampire, but I’m still a man.”

“Do the women know what you are when you make love to them?”

“What do you think?”

“I guess not.” She frowned. “Is that why you always stopped when we were…you know?”

He nodded. “The lust for flesh and the lust for blood are tightly interwoven and you, my sweet, are far too tempting.”

The thought repulsed and fascinated her at the same time. “So, what’s it like, being a vampire?”

“In many ways, it’s no different from being mortal. Except for the obvious, of course.”

“Of course. And you don’t miss the sun, or food and stuff like that?”

“Not anymore.”

She pondered that a moment, then sighed. “This is all so confusing and unbelievable. I’m sure I’ll wake up tomorrow and find this whole conversation was just some sort of fever dream.”

He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. The touch of his lips, the heat of his tongue on her skin, sent shivers of delight racing up her arm.

“It’s not a dream, Shannah, and it’s not a nightmare, unless you want it to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can take you home to your parents and make you forget I ever existed,” he said quietly. “I can make you forget you ever came here, that we ever met.”

“You can?”

“If that’s what you want.”

She thought about it a moment, then shook her head. “No, I don’t want to forget.”

“What do you want?”

“You don’t look like a vampire.”

“No?” He stared at the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat, let his hunger rise within him, felt his fangs lengthen.

He knew when his eyes burned red by the sudden look of horror on her face. He ran his tongue over the tips of his fangs, then asked, “Is this what you wanted to see?”

For a moment, he feared she would faint again, and then she leaned forward. “Does it hurt, when they come out?” she asked, pointing at his fangs.

He laughed softly. Once again, she had surprised him. “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Could you change back to Ronan now?”

He took a deep breath, felt his fangs retract as the force of his will overcame the urge to feed.

“Thank you.” She shook her head. “No one will ever believe any of this.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Shannah. You must know that.”

“Carl Overstreet will be very disappointed to hear that.”

“Overstreet! What’s he got to do with anything?”

“He wants to interview you.”

“Interview with a vampire?” Ronan muttered wryly. “I think that’s already been done.”

Shannah laughed, then turned serious once more. “Who is Jim Hewitt? You said you knew him.