Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,54
and sight and hearing had confused him. His physical strength and stamina were far greater than they had been on ErAdona.
"When I left the Indians, I came here, to this mountain. I built this place using the tools I had buried earlier. I've lived all over the world since then, but I always come back here, to this place." It was home, he thought, or as close to a home as he'd had since he'd been banished from ErAdona. "I've upgraded the furnishings from time to time." He grinned at her as he glanced around. "I guess it's time to refurbish again."
She smiled back at him, but it was a sad kind of smile.
"Kara, you needn't pity me."
"I don't, really. I admire you. I mean, at first it must have taken a great deal of courage, of fortitude, just to survive. And later, as time passed . . ." She shrugged. "I remember watching a vampire movie where one of the vampires said it took a special kind of person to be one of the undead, to stay the same while everything else changed."
Alex nodded. It was true. It had been hard, watching the world change, watching people die, while he went on, and on. But none of that mattered any more.
Kara had brought new meaning to his life, given him a reason to live, hope for the future.
Rising, she refilled her coffee cup, then sat down beside Alex again. "When did you start to write?"
"I'm not sure. Seventy, eighty years ago. Of course, I've had to change publishers and pseudonyms from time to time," he added with a wry grin.
"Yes," Kara said, grinning back at him, "I would think so. Was being a writer something you always wanted to do?"
"No. It was just a way to pass the time. Writing's a solitary profession, something I could do without any interference from anyone else. I've never met any of my agents, or my editors. All my business dealings have been done by mail and an occasional phone call." He laughed softly. "The fact that I don't do book signings, and that I refuse to have my picture taken has added to themystique of A. Lucard."
"I guess I've been quite a hindrance to your writing, haven't I? I'm probably keeping you from a deadline."
"It doesn't matter."
"You don't have to entertain me, you know. You could spend your days writing if you want." She smiled shyly. "As long as you save your nights for me."
Alex laughed softly. "My nights will be yours, natayah, arid my days, for as long as you want them."
His words brought a blush to her cheeks, and he thought how beautiful she was.
"Have you always written about vampires and werewolves and the like?"
"No. Originally, I wrote science fiction. You know, space ships and alien invaders." He grinned, remembering. "And then I saw Bela Lugosi in Dracula and realized for the first time how similar my lifestyle was to that of your vampires."
"I can't wait to tell Gail that you're from another planet. She'll be thrilled."
"You can't tell her, Kara. You can't tell anyone."
"But she'd be thrilled to death. She's always been so certain that flying saucers were for real. She wouldn't tell anyone."
Alex shook his head. "It's a risk I can't take."
"I understand." Leaning over, she kissed his cheek, then gathered up the dishes and carried them into the kitchen.
Alex watched her wash and dry the dishes, hoping she really did understand. One word, the slightest suspicion that he was from another planet, and they would never know another peaceful moment. They would be hounded, hunted, until he was captured. He'd had two hundred years to witness man's inhumanity to man, two centuries of watching whole cultures destroyed because they were different, because they had stood in the way of wealth or progress. During that time, he had seen countless men like Dale Barrett, men who were willing to sacrifice their honor, their integrity, for the promise of fame and fortune.
He had no desire to be a stepping stone for Barrett's rise to celebrity and glory.
That evening, they went for a walk. Alex carried a long, narrow implement that he explained was like a chain saw, only more refined. They were going to cut down a tree, he said, and the tool in his hand would not only fell the tree, but cut the lumber to the length and thickness he required.