the insatiable hunger, the weakness, that had driven him to take that which he had no right to take. One day he would take too much and it would kill her.
He cursed under his breath as he swept her into his arms and carried her into the kitchen. Filling a glass with water, he held it to her lips, insisting she drink it all. And then he carried her up the stairs and put her to bed.
"Stay with me," she begged. "Stay until the sun comes up."
"I will."
"Am I your slave now?"
"No."
"I wouldn't mind, you know, being your slave."
"I would. Go to sleep, Sarah."
"You'll be here tomorrow night? You won't destroy yourself? Promise me."
"I promise."
"We'll find a cure," she murmured as her eyelids fluttered down. "I know we will. And if we can't... if we can't..."
He listened to the soft sound of her breathing as sleep claimed her.
"And if we can't," he said, finishing her thought in his own way, "then we'll meet death together, for I won't be parted from you in life again."
The house was deadly quiet. Alone in the pink bedroom, the covers drawn up to her chin, Sarah stared out the window at the darkness, wondering what had awakened her, wondering where Gabriel was. The last thing she remembered was Gabriel bending over her, promising that he wouldn't destroy himself.
She let out a sigh. She had spent the last three weeks remembering another life, trying to convince herself it wasn't true, that she hadn't lived before. But she'd known, in the depths of her heart and soul, that everything Gabriel had told her was true. She had lived before, loved him before. And she loved him now.
With that irrefutable thought in mind, she had rented her house, furniture and all, to a young family. Then she had packed her bags and come here. Hard to believe that had been only hours ago. It seemed as though centuries had passed since she entered this house. Since she had come home. To Gabriel. What should have seemed totally bizarre felt completely right.
She had lived before. Gabriel had been her husband, and now she was back where she belonged.
She was almost asleep again when she sensed his presence in the room, and then he was sliding under the covers, taking her in his arms.
"It will be dawn soon," he whispered. "Let me hold you until then."
"We'll be together always, won't we?"
"Always."
She made a soft sound of acquiescence as she snuggled against him. Home, she thought, home at last.
She felt his lips move in her hair, heard his voice whispering her name, speaking to her in a language she didn't comprehend, and yet she understood every word.
Warm and safe, drifting on a gentle tide of love, her last thought before sleep claimed her was that she loved him, that even if they were parted again, she would find him in another life.
When next she woke, it was morning and she was alone, but she knew that he was there, somewhere in the house. Filled with a sense of well-being, she jumped out of bed. After taking a lengthy shower and brushing her hair, she pulled on a bulky white sweater and a pair of jeans, slipped on tennis shoes, then went downstairs. She ate a quick breakfast of tea and toast, then left the house, bound for the library.
She was amazed at the number of books on vampire lore - Vampire: The Complete Guide to the World of the Undeadby Mascetti; The Vampire Encyclopediaby Bunson; The Vampire in Legend, Fact and Artby Copper; The Terror That Comes in the Nightby Hufford; In Search of Draculaby McNally - the list went on and on, with books detailing how to recognize a vampire, how to destroy a vampire, how to protect oneself from a vampire, but nowhere did she find any indication that a vampire had ever been successfully transformed back into a human.
According to one book, vampires always wore black tuxedos with long tails, and a black silk cloak, which some believed was woven by the vampire himself after his transformation.
Sarah frowned. Gabriel did, indeed, wear black, she thought, but not a tuxedo, and she'd never seen him in a cape... but that wasn't true, she amended. In France, he'd always worn a long black cloak, only it had been made of wool, not silk.
She studied old newspaper articles, fascinated by a 1980s headline: VAMPIRE KILLINGS SWEEP THE U.S. The article reported that experts believed vampires were responsible for as