The witching hour - By Anne Rice Page 0,562

couches, and last-minute hugs given, and then out they all went into the clean bright cold.

Weary of the strain and sick with worry, he’d taken his time locking up. No need to smile now. No need to pretend anything. And God, what had the strain been like for her?

He dreaded going up the stairs. He went through the house checking windows, checking the little green tiny pinpoints of light on the alarm panel, and turning on the faucets to save the pipes from the freeze.

Finally he stood in the parlor, in front of his beautiful lighted tree.

Had there ever been a Christmas as bitter and lonely as this one? He would have been in a rage if it had served any purpose.

For a while he lay on the sofa, letting the fire burn itself out in the fireplace, and talking silently to Julien and Deborah, asking them as he had a thousand times tonight, what was he meant to do?

At last he climbed the stairs. The bedroom was hushed and dark. She was covered with blankets, so he saw only her hair against the pillow, her face turned away.

How many times this evening had he tried to catch her eye, and failed? Had anyone noticed that they spoke not a single syllable to each other? Everyone was too certain of their happiness. Just as he’d been so certain.

He walked silently to the front window and pulled back the heavy damask drape so that he might look at the falling snow for the last time. It was well after midnight—Christmas Eve already. And tonight would come that magic moment when he would take stock of his life and his accomplishments, when he would shape in dreams and plans the coming year.

Rowan, it’s not going to end like this. It’s only a skirmish. We knew at the beginning, so much more than the others …

He turned and saw her hand on the pillow, slender and beautiful, fingers lightly curled.

Silently he drew close to her. He wanted to touch her hand, to feel its warmth against his fingers, to grab hold of her as if she were floating away from him in some dark perilous sea. But he didn’t dare.

His heart was tripping and he felt that warm pain in his chest as he looked back out into the snowfall. And then his eyes settled on her face.

Her eyes were open. She was staring at him in the darkness. And her lips slowly spread in a long, vicious smile.

He was petrified. Her face was white in the dim light from outside, and hard as marble, and the smile was frozen and the eyes gleamed like pieces of glass. His heart quickened and the warm pain spread through his chest. He continued to stare at her, unable to take his eyes off her, and then his hand shot out before he could stop it and he grabbed her wrist.

Her entire body twisted, and the vicious mask of her face crumpled completely and she sat up suddenly, anxious and confused. “What is it, Michael?” She stared at her wrist, and slowly he let her go. “I’m glad you woke me,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide and her lip trembled. “I was having the most terrible dream.”

“What did you dream, Rowan?”

She sat still, peering before her, and then she clasped her hands as if tearing at one with the other. And he was vaguely aware that he’d once seen her in that desperate gesture before.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what it was. It was this place … centuries ago, and these doctors were gathered together. And the body lying on the table was so small.” Her voice was low and full of agony and suddenly the tears spilled down as she looked up at him.

“Rowan.”

She put up her hand. As he sank down on the side of the bed, she pressed her fingers against his lips.

“Don’t say it, Michael, please. Don’t say it. Don’t speak a word.”

She shook her head frantically.

And sick with relief and hurt, he merely slipped his fingers around her neck, and as she bowed her head, he tried not to break down himself.

You know I love you, you know all the things I want to say.

When she was calmer, he took both of her hands and squeezed them tightly and he closed his eyes.

Trust me, Michael.

“OK, honey,” he whispered. “OK.” Clumsily, he stripped off his clothes, and he climbed in under the covers beside her, catching the warm