many as 6,000 deaths a year, and that police were investigating dozens of eerie murders in which the bodies of the victims had been drained of blood - a double murder in New York City where there wasn't enough blood left in the bodies for the medical examiner to take a blood sample; six people in California had been murdered by a man who later admitted to drinking their blood.
In a book, she read that, in ancient times, people had believed that a dead body could become a vampire if an animal such as a dog or a cat jumped over it. And if a bat flew over a body, there was no escape from becoming a vampire. Likewise, if one's shadow was stolen, becoming a vampire was inevitable. If the deceased couldn't be buried, either because the earth would not accept the body, as with the case of evil-doers, or because the authorities would object, then the victim would more than likely become a vampire.
Sarah shook her head. How could people ever have believed in such nonsense?
How could she believe in reincarnation, in vampires?
But she had no doubt that Gabriel was what he said he was; she'd seen the proof with her own eyes. And if one was made a vampire, then surely one could be unmade, and she would not rest until she found a cure, because there were only two alternatives: living the past over again, or becoming what Gabriel was, and she knew that was something she could never do. If she was going to live forever, then she wanted it to be in heaven or paradise, surrounded by joy and happiness and those she had loved in life; she didn't want to live forever at the expense of others, not even to be with Gabriel.
She spent most of the day at the library before returning to the house. She was aware of a keen sense of anticipation as she went into the kitchen and fixed something to eat.
She was putting the dishes in the dishwasher when she sensed Gabriel's presence, and then he was standing behind her, his arms slipping around her waisttodraw her back against him.
They stood that way for a long moment, with her hand stroking his while he rained kisses along the side of her neck.
"So," he said at last, "what did you do today?"
"I did some research on vampires."
"Oh? And what did you learn?"
"Everything but how to cure one."
He turned her in his arms and brushed a kiss across her lips. "I'm sure any cure you found in a book would be a waste of time, if one exists at all."
"Well, I'm not giving up. Haven't you ever heard of any vampire who returned to his former state?"
Gabriel shrugged. "There are stories, rumors of vampires who tried to reenter mortality."
"Did it work?"
"There is a legend among vampires that one of our kind was successfully transformed back to his human state."
"That's great!"
"It's only a fable, Sarah. To my knowledge, no vampire has ever regained his humanity." He drew her up against him, holding her tight. "One must go to the very brink of death to become a vampire. Crossing the chasm from death to life is not easy. It is, in many ways, like dying again."
"I don't want you to die."
He laughed softly, his breath fanning her cheek. "I'm already dead."
His words sent a chill down her spine. "So, what are we going to do?"
"I know a very old vampire, one older even than Nina. He lives in France. If there is a cure, Quillan would know of it."
"And if there isn't?"
"I don't know, Sarah. I only know I can't watch you die again."
"I'll come back to you, Gabriel. I found you in this life, and I'll find you again."
"Perhaps."
"How soon can we leave for France?"
"I don't know if he even exists anymore."
"Can you find out?"
"I'll try. I'll write him tomorrow and then we'll just have to wait and see."
She looked up at him, snatches of what she'd read coming back to her. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask."
"Do you really sleep in a... a coffin?"
"No. I could never overcome my aversion to that aspect of being a vampire. I sleep in a large box made of pine, and though it resembles a coffin in size and shape, it's just a box."
"Where is it?"
"In the basement. Would you care to see it?"
"No, I don't think so." She toyed with a lock of her hair. They needed a diversion, she thought, something