“Lenobia! Lenobia Whitehall!”
She did not look up at the sound of her name. It was only the sound of a horse’s nervous hooves on the cobblestones nearby that made her react. Medusa slid off the mare and knelt beside her. “Can you ride? We have little time. The city is burning.”
“Leave me. I want to burn with it. I want to burn with him.”
Medusa’s eyes filled with tears. “Your Martin is dead?”
“And so am I,” Lenobia said. “His death has killed me, too.” As she spoke, Lenobia felt the depth of Martin’s loss surge through her. It was too much—the pain was too much to contain within her body, and with a sob that was a widow’s wail, she collapsed forward. The fabric along the back seam of her dress burst, and pain split her scorched skin.
“Daughter!” Medusa knelt beside her, reaching for her, trying to console her. “Your back—I must get you to the ship.”
“Leave me here,” Lenobia said again. “I vowed to never love another man, and I will not.”
“Keep your vow, daughter, but live. Live the life he could not.”
Lenobia began to refuse, and then the soft muzzle of the mare dropped to her, blew against her singed hair, and nuzzled her face.
And through her pain and despair, Lenobia felt it—felt the mare’s worry, as well as her fear at the spreading fire.
“I can feel what she does.” Lenobia reached a weak, trembling hand up to stroke the horse. “She is worried and afraid.”
“It is your gift—your affinity. They rarely manifest this soon. Listen to me, Lenobia. Our Goddess, Nyx, has given you this great gift. Do not reject it and the comfort and, perhaps, happiness it could bring to you.”
Horses and happiness …
The second story of the house beside the stables collapsed, and sparks cascaded around them, setting fire to the silk curtains in the house across the street.
The mare’s fear spiked—and it was the horse’s terror that made Lenobia move. “I can ride,” she said, allowing Medusa to help her to her feet and then lift her into the saddle.
Medusa gaped. “Your back! It—it is bad. This will be painful, but once we are aboard the ship I can help you to heal, though you will always bear the scars of this night.”
The vampyre mounted the mare, pointed her toward the docks, and gave her her head. As they galloped to safety and the mystery of a new life, Lenobia closed her eyes and repeated to herself:
I will love you until the day I die—only you, Martin. Always only you; I vow it.