"Many years passed. The man didn't age, though all those he knew and loved grew old and passed away. And then one night, centuries later, he met another woman. She flirted with him shamelessly, and because he was a man, and lonely, he agreed to meet her the next night. They continued to meet, and then, one evening, while making love to her, he took a little taste of her blood. It was sweet, yet it burned his tongue like fire.
"Confused, he started to put her away from him, but it was too late. Her father burst into the room and found them lying together. Enraged, her father called down a terrible curse upon the young lovers...."
Rourke paused, his gaze on Karinna's face. She was watching him intently, her eyes wide.
"What was the curse?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper, as if she feared the answer.
"The father was a powerful wizard. He cast the woman into one painting, and the man into another...."
She shook her head. "No, that can't be true."
"Another painting," he continued, "where the man stayed for three hundred years until a woman with hair like black silk and eyes the blue of the sky called him forth and broke the curse."
"What happened to the wizard and his daughter?"
"I know not, but I intend to find out."
"It's a nice fairy tale, but I don't believe a word of it." But even as she said the words, she recalled Tricia telling her that the painting was three hundred years old, the same number of years Rourke claimed to have been trapped inside. "What was the name of this wizard?"
"Vilnius."
"No." She shook her head vigorously. "No, no, no! It's impossible."
"It's very possible," he said quietly. And to prove it, he bared his fangs.
Karinna stared at him a moment, then fainted dead away.
With a sigh, Rourke carried her up the stairs and put her to bed.
Upon regaining consciousness, Kari sat up and glanced around the room, relieved to see that she was in her own room, in her own bed.
After rising, she moved cautiously through the rest of the house. He was gone. But of course he was. He wasn't real. He couldn't be real. Vampires, indeed!
Returning to the living room, she picked up the phone. Tricia answered on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Tricia? Did I wake you?"
"No, I was just watching the Late Show. What's up?"
"Can you come over?"
"Now?"
"Right now."
"What's wrong? You sound...what's wrong?"
"Please, just come over."
"All right, I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Thanks. Bye."
Kari hung up the receiver then got to work cleaning up the shrimp and rice scattered on the living room floor.
Tricia arrived ten minutes later. "All right, girlfriend, what's going on?"
"The painting..."
Tricia glanced at the space over the mantel. "What happened to it? Don't tell me you sold it! How much did you get...?"
"It broke."
"Broke? How did that happen?"
Kari sat down on the sofa and Tricia sat beside her.
"Is the canvas ruined?" Tricia asked. "I know an art restorer who might be able to salvage it."
Kari shook her head. "You don't understand. He broke it."
"He? He, who?"
"The man in the painting."
Tricia sat back, her brow furrowed. "Kari, what are you trying to say?"
"The man in the painting. Either he's real, or I'm going crazy."
"Well, one of us is," Tricia said dryly. "'Cause you're not making any sense at all."
Kari clasped her hands in her lap. "He was very handsome and I...well, I sort of talked to him sometimes. And last night I was looking at the painting and I said I...I wished he was beside me and the next thing I knew, he was."
Pity and concern played over Tricia's features.
"I know you don't believe me. I know how crazy this sounds, but it's true. Earlier tonight he showed up and...you won't believe this either, but he told me he was a vampire and..."
"This just gets better and better," Tricia muttered.
"And that he'd been cursed by a wizard. A wizard named Vilnius...and that he'd been inside that painting for three hundred years. And..."
"Kari, honey, have you thought about seeing a doctor?"
"You mean a psychiatrist, don't you?"
"Well..."
"I can prove it." Reaching into her pocket, Kari withdrew the notes Rourke had written. "Look at these," she said, a note of triumph in her voice, and handed them to Tricia.
Frowning, Tricia spread the notes on her lap, and then shrugged. "So, what does this prove?"
"They're notes. From him."
Tricia ran her fingernail over one of the pieces of paper, frowning when the ink flaked off. "This looks like blood."
Kari nodded. "I thought so, too."
Tricia shook her head. "I don't know what to say."
"He wants me to show him around."
"He does, huh? Well, that should be interesting."
With a sigh of exasperation, Kari said, "You're humoring me, aren't you?"
"Can you blame me? This all sounds so far-fetched." Tricia glanced around the room. "So, where is he now?"
"I don't know. He was here earlier." Kari shrugged. "I guess I fainted...."
"Well, I can understand that!"
"When I woke up, he was gone." She lifted a hand to her neck. "I think he bit me last night."
"What?" Tricia was on her feet in an instant. "Where? Let me see."
Kari pulled her hair back and turned her head to the side, wondering how she could have forgotten such a thing. "Right here," she said, pointing.
Tricia leaned forward. Two small red marks could be seen just below Kari's left ear. "They don't look like bites, exactly...." She sat down heavily. "Have you told anyone else?"
"No, just you."
"Why don't you come home with me tonight? I don't think you should stay here alone."
"So, you believe me?"
"I don't know what I believe, but I suppose those marks could be bites." She nodded. "Yes, I think coming home with me is the best thing for you to do."
"I don't want to intrude...."
"Don't be silly. It'll be fun. Brent's at a convention in Chicago, and the kids are at my mom's for a few days. It'll just be the two of us."
"I've got to go to work tomorrow."