“Oh.”
As she fell into another silence, there was such a somberness to her, her eyes downcast, her shoulders tucked into herself. He had a thought that he was going to remember this hospital room, with its hospital bed and its single padded chair and its medical equipment so discreetly tucked away, for the rest of his…
Life.
“I’m going to live forever?” he asked as uneasiness threaded through his chest again.
“You are not going to have death.”
“So I can’t die?” He imagined the earth hit by an even bigger meteor and him floating out in space, spinning slowly in the cosmic void, for infinity and beyond. Permanently Buzz Lightyear.
“You do not die.”
“How did you do it?”
“I took you to the plane of creation. And now you are both different and the same. There is no going back and there was no way to ask you what you wanted. I believe you will find there are benefits and tragedies to this state. Then again, perhaps that is just like a normal life, the good and the bad intertwined. The difference for you being, now, that there shall be no end.”
He stared at her, rememorizing her features, trying to catalog all the changes he now saw in what had been so familiar to him. Then he thought of his parents, and the way they had looked as he had come to, the confusion, the tears… the grief that had shattered their souls.
“You did the right thing,” he said abruptly. “I don’t… understand a lot of this, but I wouldn’t trade being here for anything.”
There was no relief in her as he spoke. Just that grim cast to her eyes.
“I hope you continue to feel that way,” she whispered. “I truly do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
You sure you’re okay with this?”
As Balz put the question out there, he realized he was being a little duplicitous. His eyes were staring out the front windshield of the old silver Honda, locked on the front door of a nice little townhouse—and unless Erika had pulled them up at the garage door of someone else’s pad, this was where she lived.
In his mind, he was already inside, taking a shower in one of her bathrooms.
After which, he was getting in between the cool sheets of her bed and pulling her into his naked-ass body— No, I’m not doing that.
She turned and looked across the front seats. “I’m sorry? What?”
Shit, he’d spoken that out loud. “Oh, nothing.” He glanced at her. “I just want to make sure this is really what you want to do.”
“You have nowhere to stay, right?” She shrugged. “And the more I thought about those shadows… I’m not sure I can defend myself against them without you. Besides, I was safe with you before. You’ve never been aggressive toward me, and I also don’t have to worry about your buddies coming after me.”
“Like I said, they won’t harm you.”
“Because I’m your female, right?” She narrowed her eyes. “I heard one of them say that.”
“It’s a term of art.” Whatever the fuck that meant—and who the hell had been throwing around the f word? “And you’re right. If I’m with you… those shadows have a big goddamn problem.”
His female, huh. He wasn’t sure he could argue with that, but there had been plenty of revelations already for one night—ah, crap. Had he really bonded with her? Then again, the rule of thumb with that for male vampires was, if you were even entertaining the question, the answer was probably yes.
Great. Another layer to this shit cake—
“Hold on, is that…” She frowned and leaned into her window. “Is that my bag?”
Balz looked across the dashboard again. Sure enough, right on the front stoop, just outside of the light thrown by the lantern over the mailbox, was the purse he had seen her carrying.
“How did it get here?” she asked as she popped her door open.
Well, at least he knew the answer to that one, and it wasn’t a bad surprise.
Thank you, V, he thought as he jumped out himself.
Balz stayed tight on her heels as she hit a little walkway with a long stride, and about halfway to her front door, he realized how ridiculous he looked: He was still nakie with a sheet wrapped around his hey-nannies, and he had a gun down at one thigh and a duffle bag full of click-click-bang-bang hanging off his other shoulder.
Too bad this wasn’t Halloween for the humans. He could have called himself a flasher-assassin and maybe gotten away with it.
Plus, hey, guy shows up on your trick-or-treat doorstep with a forty caliber in his palm, you were likely to dump your bowl of candy wherever he told you to put the stuff. So he’d clean up and Rhage would be psyched.