Her host nodded solemnly. "You saved my life taking that blow. Thank you. I could hardly do any less in return."
"You couldn't?" She frowned at his statement, almost asking how he had saved her, but she suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to know. After all, the man hadn't denied being a vampire.
Recognizing the ridiculous nature of her thoughts, Rachel shook her head. There were no such things as vampires, and even considering it... Well, that way lay madness. Instead, she asked, "When was that? The attack, I mean?"
"Last night."
Rachel blinked in confusion. "Last night, what?"
"Last night is when you were injured," he explained patiently.
Rachel immediately began to shake her head. This was impossible. The wound had healed into a scar. She glanced down and tugged her makeshift toga aside just to be sure she hadn't imagined it, then froze, her eyes widening. The scar was gone. Reaching beneath her sheet, she prodded the unbroken skin with disbelief, as if touching it would make the scar suddenly reappear, but it was gone.
"We heal more quickly than mortals."
"We?" Rachel echoed. "Mortals?" Her tongue felt fat and dry. Unwieldy. Yet, somehow she formed the words. At least, he seemed to understand them.
"Yes. I'm afraid there was only one way to save you, and while we generally like to receive permission before we turn someone, you weren't really capable of the decision. Besides, I couldn't simply let you die after you had sacrificed your life for mine."
"My life?" Rachel's tongue felt as if it was made of cotton.
"Yes. Your life."
"Turned?"
"Yes."
"Turned into what, exactly?" Her cotton tongue made the question "urned inoo ut aghactly," but again he understood.
"An immortal."
Immortal. Rachel felt a moment's relief. She had very much feared hearing the word vampire. Immortal sounded much better. Immortal. It made her think of that movie with that actor--what was his name? Good looking, cool accent, Sean Connery had played another immortal... Oh, yes. Christopher Lambert, and the movie had been Highlander. And in it immortals weren't evil bloodsucking demons, but... well... immortal. It seemed to her that there had been some evil immortals, though--and some nastiness about cutting off heads. Some nonsense about there could be only one. She didn't care for the idea of having her head cut off.
"Not immortal like Sean Connery and Christopher Lambert in Highlander," her host explained patiently, making her realize that she had been muttering her thoughts aloud. "Immortal like... well, the closest thing you would understand is a vampire."
"Oh, jeez." Rachel was suddenly on her feet and running. Time to go. She had heard enough. This had moved beyond a cool dream and into the nightmare realm. Unfortunately, her legs were no more steady now than they had been. They gave out halfway to the door, and her head spun. She fell back, limp.
Her host scooped her into his arms. Saying something about it being time for her to go back to bed, he carried her out of the room and upstairs. All Rachel could think to say was a plaintive, "But I don't want to be a bloodsucking demon. How will I do my makeup if I don't have a reflection?"
He said something in response, but Rachel wasn't listening; she was thinking of the few episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer she had caught on TV as she prepared for work and added, "Those facial lumps and bumps are so unattractive."
"Facial lumps and bumps?"
Rachel glanced at the face of the man carrying her. He didn't look anything like she imagined vampires would look. He wasn't really pale--that must have been an effect of the lighting in the computer room. Here in the lighted stairwell, his skin looked natural and even flushed with color. He looked like a typical healthy male, not a dead man. He also smelled vaguely of some rather expensive cologne, and not like a rotting corpse.
"Facial lumps?" he repeated.
"Like Angel and Spike and the rest of the vampires on TV. Their faces reshape and contort into these really unattractive demon faces," she explained absently. She wondered if he was mad. There were no such things as vampires; thus, this man thinking he was one... On the other hand, she distinctly recalled an ax entering her body, yet there was no longer any sign of injury. Had she really been injured? Perhaps she had imagined the scar earlier in the bedroom. Or perhaps this was all a dream.
"Your face won't contort," he assured her. "You won't look like a demon."
"Then, how do your teeth extend?" Rachel asked. It was a test pure and simple, to see if he was mad.
"Like this."
He opened his mouth, but the fake vampire teeth she had expected weren't there. In fact, his teeth looked perfectly normal--for the count of a heartbeat; then his canines began to lengthen as if sliding along oiled hinges.
Rachel moaned and closed her eyes. "It's just a dream," she reassured herself as Etienne stepped out of the stairwell and carried her through the kitchen. "Just a dream."