Then he remembered that Elizabeth had gone into the village for a while a few evenings ago. He'd stayed behind and sent a small contingent along as escort.
The gypsy girl was so close that even in the darkness he could see every detail of the lashes around her black eyes. Her close proximity made his chest ache, and he fought to keep his hands at his sides. Did she not fear being alone with him in the night?
"Why did you come back?" he whispered.
"For you."
He didn't move, and the sound-or perhaps the quality-of her voice changed.
"You long to leave this place," she murmured. "To run and seek adventure, to travel, to see other sights and hear other sounds."
As she spoke, the pain in his chest faded, replaced by excitement. Her words began to create pictures in his mind of the wonder of constant travel, living on the road with her, and she… she would never be at a loss for something new to explore. She was a fountain of ideas and adventure, always delighted by the joys of the journey.
She embodied everything he had ever wanted.
"Come with me," she whispered, moving close enough to speak in his ear. "Come with me now. I've waited for you for a hundred years."
A hundred years.
"Get us two horses," she whispered. "The front gates are open. Your men are asleep. No one will see us."
He didn't even stop to think.
Less than half an hour later, they were riding out the open front gates.
Deep inside the forest, he watched her building a fire, and the reality of what he'd done began to sink in.
Had she put some kind of spell on him?
He'd abandoned his lord's house with the front gates wide-open and left all his men asleep!
His hands were shaking by the time she finished the fire, and the small twigs crackled and burned.
"What did you do to me?" he demanded, wondering how fast he could get back and yet hating the thought at the same time.
"Nothing you didn't want," she answered. "My gift only works to that degree on a certain few… those who love the journey more than anything."
Her voice had changed again, falling like music on his ears, and he began to forget the open gates. He forgot his men. He forgot his lady.
"Your gift?" he asked.
"Where do you wish to go first?" she asked. "Germany? The south of France? Italy?"
"Italy," he repeated in wonder. He had always longed to see Italy. But her words offered more than travel. He could see pictures of her laughing on a foreign beach in the night air. He could see her offering idea after idea for the next place to explore, the next delight to uncover. For the first time in his life, he did not feel alone.
She held both hands out to him, and he walked over to grasp them. Her black hair smelled earthy and musty. Her face was lovely, exotic and delicate at the same time.
"I've looked for so long," she said. "You are protection itself."
He didn't know what that meant. He didn't care.
"But you have to agree," she said.
"Agree?"
"If you come with me, we'll live only by night, but we'll live forever. You have to learn the laws and obey them. You won't age and you won't die, but not everyone wants this. You have to tell me that you agree, or I cannot go further."
Live only by night? Forever?
He had no idea what she was saying, but again, he didn't care. He only knew he could not live now without the perfect vision of traveling the continent with her at his side.
"I'll agree to anything you want," he whispered.
She smiled, exposing white even teeth. "I knew you would. I knew I had finally found you."
She kissed him.
He grabbed the back of her head and pressed his tongue into her mouth. She drew him to the ground by the fire, and he ran his hand down to her waist, pinning her with the weight of his chest.
"No, roll over," she murmured.
He obeyed her, and then she was sitting on top of him. She was so light he could barely feel her weight.
"My name is Jessenia," she said, "and you are my other half."
She leaned down, and he expected her to kiss him again. But she moved her mouth to his neck, and before he realized what was happening, she drove her teeth into throat. The pain was blinding, and he bucked hard to throw her off. But she held on, gripping him and draining his blood.
His mind went blank.
Then he was lost again in the glorious images of rocky beaches with saltwater spray, new cities to explore, ancient churches, lush forests, mountains… and Jessenia always beside him, always smiling and laughing or lost in wonder or offering ideas for the next place to go. The pain in his throat vanished. The beating of his heart slowed and slowed. So lost in the lovely visions, he was only dimly aware of his heart. He saw himself sitting with Jessenia at a fine inn, and she offered him a goblet of red wine. He drank deeply. It was delicious.
Then he opened his eyes and found himself lying on his back with her on top, leaning over him… and her torn wrist was in his mouth. He was drinking her blood. He was gulping in mouthfuls.
Shock hit him like cold water.
"Don't stop," she whispered. "Not yet."
And he couldn't stop. She caressed his face and murmured in his ear. A few moments later, everything went black.
When he next woke, he could hear all the insects of the forest.
He turned his head and saw Jessenia sitting near him. She crawled closer and smiled.
"You're awake. I did not know how long you would sleep."
He felt different. The fire was long out, but he was not cold. Memories came rushing back, and he knew he should be horrified, enraged. He should want to kill her.
But he didn't.
With her face leaning close to his, he only wanted her to wash those perfect images of their journeys through his mind again.
"Can you walk?" she asked. "We should go and stay at an inn until you've completely finished the change and you're ready to feed. But you cannot feed without me along at first, not until you've learned how."
"Feed?"
"Just come."
She drew him up to his feet, and they untied their horses, leaving the dead fire behind and the small patch of ground where Robert lost one life… and began another.
The first weeks of his undead existence passed quickly, but he never forgot them.
He was a not a fanciful man, and he took no stock in myths and superstitions.
So this new reality-clearly no myth-was something he accepted as an event he could not change.
He might have questioned more, even regretted more, had Jessenia not been at his side, helping him every step of the way, or as much as he allowed her to help. He never realized how alone he had been before her.
She was just a slip of a girl. A gypsy sprite.
Yet she bubbled over with life to a degree that left him in awe. He would have died for her.
Not long after the night by their campfire, he began growing uncomfortable, hollow and agitated.
"We need to go out," Jessenia said.
They left their inn and walked among the people of the village. He wasn't even sure which village.
"Where are we?"
"It doesn't matter yet," she answered, looking around. She spotted a smithy with a red glow coming from somewhere inside. "This way."
When they reached the front doors, she stopped him. "Just try to watch me, but don't come all the way in until I call for you."
He frowned in confusion, but the hollow feeling inside him was growing worse, and she had always known what to do before. So from the side of the doorway, he watched her go in. She approached a young man standing by brazier with a steel mallet in his hand.
The young man looked up in surprise, but Jessenia smiled.
"Sorry to bother you so late, but my horse has gone lame, just down the street. He's bad enough that I didn't want to try to make him walk. Could you come take a look? I can pay you."