voice followed him down the stairs, out of the castle. He paused to drape his cloak around his shoulders, and then he was running, faster than mortal eyes could see, running away from the only woman he had ever loved, from the scent of her blood, from the trust in her eyes.
"Fool!" He screamed the word into the wind that chased him through the night. "Fool!"
A fool to think he could have her, that he could take her blood, give her his in return, and forever deny what he was. What idiocy, to think he could live like a mortal man, that he could keep the hunger forever at bay. He was not a man, had not been a man for over four hundred years. He was a vampyre, and all the wishing in the world could not change that.
He knew now what he had to do. There was only one way to keep Rhianna safe from the monster. Only one way to protect her from what he was. He would rise early tomorrow night. He would feed well so that Rhianna's sweetness would not tempt him. He would erase his memory from her mind, and then he would go out to meet the sun. With nothing left to live for, he would welcome death.
He sought shelter in a cave cut deep into the side of Devil Tree Mountain. Shrouded in his cloak, he stared at nothingness. At dusk, he would seek out Rhianna. He would spend one last night in her presence, hold her in his arms one last time and then, while she slept, he would blot his memory from her mind. Montroy would provide her with all the comforts money could buy. He would cherish her and love her; in time, he would give her a child. The thought of Montroy caressing Rhianna sent a hot shaft of pain searing through his heart. But it was the only way to ensure that he did not destroy her. He no longer trusted himself to keep her safe, no longer believed himself strong enough to keep from forcing the Dark Gift upon her.
With the coming of dawn, he curled up on the damp earth, drew his cloak over his head, and waited for the darkness to overtake him one last time.
"Salvatore," he murmured as he slipped over the edge, "how did you survive so long without going mad?"
He woke an hour after the setting of the sun and knew immediately that he wasn't alone in the cave.
"I had not thought you to be a late riser."
The voice, so long unheard, so familiar, drifted over him. "Salvatore? Is that you?"
Soft laughter filled the cave. "Rayven, my friend, it has been too long."
Rayven sat up and drew his cloak over his nakedness. He could see the other vampyre now, leaning negligently against the wall of the cave, his arms crossed over his chest. "What brings you here?"
"You, of course. What else would bring me to this dreary place?"
"I don't understand."
"You called for me, did you not?"
Rayven frowned, then nodded.
"I would have been here sooner, but..." Salvatore shrugged emphatically. "I had been at rest when I heard your call." He smiled. "You understand, it took me some time to replenish my strength."
Rayven nodded. It was the way of the Old Ones, to go to ground every hundred years or so.
"So, my friend, tell me what it is that troubles you."
In short crisp sentences, Rayven told Salvatore about Rhianna, about his fears for her safety, the growing need to make her what he was, the sure knowledge that she would hate him for it.
"It is no longer safe for her to be with me." He turned tormented eyes on his friend. "And I have no desire to go on without her."
"So you intend to destroy yourself?"
"It is the only way."
"No," Salvatore replied softly. "There is another."
"Tell me!"
"You wish to renounce the Dark Gift, to be mortal again?"
Mortal again. Was it possible? Did he really want it? Would she still love him if he was mortal? He knew the allure of his vampyre blood, the underlying power that colored everything he did and said. "Is it possible?"
"If you truly wish it."
He thought of life without her, and then let himself think what it would be like to share her life, her whole life, each day, every day. "How? How is it done?"