'We?"
'You asked me for help, remember?"
He nodded.
'So." She traced a pattern on the back of his hand with her thumb. "You said this has happened to others of your kind??"
'There've been stories."
'Stories?"
'We hunt alone, Vicki. Except for during the time of changing we almost never associate with other vampires. But you hear stories?"
'Vampiric gossip?"
He shrugged, a little self-consciously. "If you like."
'And these stories say that??"
'That sometimes when we get too old, when the weight of all those centuries becomes too much to bear, we get so we can no longer stand the night and finally give ourselves to the sun."
'And before that happens, the dreams come?"
'I don't know."
She closed her hand around his. "All right. Let's take this one step at a time. Have you gotten tired of living?"
'No." That, at least, he was sure of and the reason for it stared at him intently from less than an arm's length away. "But, Vicki, as much as I have changed, the body, the mind is still basically human. Perhaps?"
'Perhaps the equipment is wearing out?" she interrupted, tightening her grip. "Planned obsolescence? You start heading toward your fifth century and the system starts breaking down?" Her brows drew in and her glasses slid down her nose. "I don't believe that."
Henry reached over and pushed her glasses back into place. "You can't disbelieve the dreams," he said softly.
'No," she admitted, "I can't." She sighed deeply and one side of her mouth quirked up. "It'd be useful if you lot did a little more communicating, so we weren't approaching this blind-maybe put out a newsletter or something." He smiled at that, as she knew he would, and he relaxed a little. "Henry, less than a year ago I didn't believe in vampires or demons or werewolves or myself. Now I know better. You aren't crazy. You don't want to die. You are therefore not going to give yourself to the sun. Q.E.D."
He had to believe her. Her no-nonsense mortal attitude slapped aside the specter of madness. "Stay till morning?" he asked. For a moment he couldn't believe the words had come from his mouth. He might as well have said, "Stay until I'm helpless. " It meant the same thing. Did he trust her that much? He saw that she understood and by her hesitation gave him time to take back the request. He suddenly realized he didn't want to take it back. That he did, indeed, trust her that much.
Four hundred and fifty years ago he'd asked, "Can we love?"
'Can you doubt it?" had been the answer.
The silence stretched. He had to break it before it pulled them apart; pulled her apart, forced her to hear what he knew she wasn't ready to hear. "You can tie me to the bed if I start to do anything stupid."
'My definition of stupid or yours?" Her voice was tight.
In for a penny in for a pound. "Yours." He smiled, planted a kiss on her palm, and turned to face the window. If Vicki thought him sane, then he had to think so, too. Perhaps why he dreamed of the sun was of less immediate concern than how he dealt with the dreams. "More things in heaven and earth?"he mused.
Vicki sagged back against the sofa cushions. "Christ, I'm getting tired of that quote."
Chapter Four
Vicki had seen a thousand dawns and seen none of them the way she saw this one.
'Can you feel it?"
'Feel what?" Half asleep, she lifted her head off Henry's lap.
'The sun."