Clair reached up and held his hand. "You're going away?"
"Yes. The high council will need to hear about the details. It is forbidden by vampire law for those of our species to kill one another."
"Will you have to go before a judge and jury like a human trial?" she asked, concerned. "You shouldn't get in trouble for helping me."
He explained gently, "I will most probably only be fined, due to the circumstances. Lady Montcrief and Wilder were both hunting in my territory against my express wish, and they both intended to kill their meal."
"What happened to Lady Montcrief?"
"She's being punished."
Hearing the tone of Asher's voice, Clair, though curious as always, decided not to ask any more about her.
"When will you be back?"
"After the meetings with the council I have decided to take a brief trip to Paris. I have a friend there, a Mr. Bufet. I'm seeking answers to questions which have bothered me for some time."
"And I imagine you will drink fine wine, visit with old friends, and kiss a few pretty maids all in a row."
Asher chuckled. "Something like that. Now, listen. I need to tell you a few things."
And he did just that, patiently explaining why Clair's research couldn't be made public. He presented her with all the facts in a concise manner—solid reasons such as wide-spread panic, vampire hunts, and human deaths that could range in the thousands.
He told Clair how the high council had been formed over two hundred years earlier, a council which had required that vampires go virtually underground in the seventeenth century and forbade them to drain their victims dry in the eighteenth century. And that had all been in an effort to stop the vampire-human wars.
Asher explained how vampires, werewolves, warlocks, and other supernatural creatures were very territorial and clannish. They didn't mix much from species to species, except in desperate situations. Vampires, he explained haughtily, were at the top of the food chain, while werewolves were earthier and lacking in refinement. He informed her that aging warlocks had a tendency to go crazy due to all their researching of spells, but that they were regarded by vampires as necessary evils since they could work a bit of magic on a nest's enemies. And lastly, Asher reminded Clair that vampires needed to stay a myth, a scary story to tell late at night.
Through this entire astonishing tale, Aunt Mary slept the sleep of the innocent.
Reluctantly Clair agreed to Asher's request, giving her sworn vow to not publish her findings or talk of them with anyone outside her immediate family. It was a hard decision. The scientist in her was screaming "no," and the compassionate part of her was whispering "yes." She had no choice but to agree, she reflected thoughtfully. For her life, she owed Asher a debt of gratitude she could never repay.
As Asher stood to leave, he handed her a folded piece of paper. Then, tenderly, like the soft brush of a butterfly's wings, he kissed her lips for the last time. It was a kiss of love, she recognized sadly.
"If Huntsley doesn't treat you well, let me know. I'll come, Clair. Wherever you are." And with one more lingering glance, he left on silent feet.
Clair opened his note, tilting it to see in the candlelight:
Clair fell asleep before she could wipe away the single tear that rolled down her cheek.
The next time she awoke, night had faded. The early morning sun filtered in through the window. Clair felt the warmth of someone's hand squeezing hers tightly, like a lifeline. That warmth gave her a sense of peace. It was Ian, and he was gazing at her with all the love in his heart. His fortress of solitude had crumbled and to his island there was a bridge.
Ever so tenderly, he leaned close and rested his forehead against hers. "Oh God, Clair. I was so worried."
Galen leaned against the far wall, a weary smile on his face. His arm was in a sling.
Clair smiled briefly at Galen; then she tenderly stroked Ian's cheek with her hand. "Asher said you got hurt. How badly?"
"Some bruising, and I took a deep cut to my thigh. But I'll be fine in a day or two."
"Asher said you and Galen helped rescue me." Clair cradled his cheek in her hand. "Thank you, Ian. Galen."
Ian's cousin nodded briefly, embarrassed by the warm sincerity of her praise. "Now that Sleeping Beauty is awake, I think I will go and have a spot of breakfast," he said.
"Thanks, Galen," Ian replied, adding his own heartfelt gratitude.
Galen shrugged and left the room.
Clair turned her attention back to her true love. "I'm sorry I don't remember what happened after Lady Montcrief slapped me. I can't believe a lady can hit that hard."
"The bitch is a vampire. She could have killed you with that slap."
Ian's features were grim, his eyes burning with a fierce light. Clair had never seen such raw rage.
"When I saw you there… God, Clair, I thought you were dead. I felt like somebody reached inside my chest and ripped out my heart." He gathered her into his arms. "Don't ever do that to me again," he scolded. "You can't die on me. Promise."
Studying his beloved face, his deep green eyes glistening with unshed tears, she nodded, awed. "My darling," she said, hugging him back, "I love you too."
He released her, sitting back down in his chair. "Asher was your vampire."
"I know."
Glancing at the open note on the end table by her bed, he added solemnly, "He's in love with you."
"I realize that too."
"And?" Ian asked, his fists clenching and unclenching.
"I respect Asher. But I respect and love you. Forever." It made her feel good to know that Ian was so concerned about her well-being. He was part of her destiny. And that was a miracle.
Ian brought her hand to his lips, gently turning it over and kissing her palm. "Marry me, Clair. Now. Today. I can't bear to lose you. I don't care anymore about your research. If you want to work on your paranormal theories, I won't complain as long as you're with me."
"About the research…" Clair tried to explain.
"I'll support whatever you do."
"About the vampire study—I got most of it wrong," she admitted, looking forlorn.
Ian took pity on her. "You were right about Wilder from the start," he reminded her.
"Yes, I was. But then I decided I wasn't. And Asher wasn't a werewolf. And I didn't even suspect Lady Montcrief or those horrible Bears—although I did think Mr. Bear had terrible taste in whom he let into his bed," she added thoughtfully.
Ian gave her a hug. "Clair, anyone can make a mistake. I'm sure that on your next project, your spectacular research will astonish us all."
"You're trying to placate me," she accused.
"Is it working?" Ian asked with an incorrigible grin.
She touched his hand, needing to tell him that she had promised Asher to give up her vampire thesis. And after seeing injuries to both herself and Ian, she'd decided vampire sleuthing was just too dangerous. Wisely, she decided to add werewolves to the mix of what to avoid. "Ian, about my research—"
He interrupted. "I told you it was fine with me. Do whatever you want, as long as you'll be my wife."
Regretfully she explained, "I can't reveal what I know about vampires. Asher revealed much to me. But it's too dangerous letting the human world know that theirs and the supernatural world coexist side by side."
Ian nodded. "No prestigious award?" he asked.
"I guess not. All my big dreams," Clair said. She hesitated, gazing at Ian, wondering why she didn't feel worse. Then, suddenly, a big grin split her face as she realized a fundamental truth. "You are my award, the only prestigious and precious award I need."