she struggled to regain a much-needed breath. Frantically, she attempted to gather the insane thoughts threatening to run screaming from her mind. Her gaze darted back to the antique glass, wanting to reassurance of the image revealed in the blemished depths.
“Please, don’t faint.” She heard his plea but, in the deep recesses of her mind, she detected the whispery sound of raucous laughter. The humorous reverberation appeared to erupt from the figure standing in wispy reflection at her side.
She staggered to the couch. The calves of her legs struck smooth leather, and Eva collapsed. This time, she didn't care as the material protested. Incapable of speech, or coherent thought, she gulped, the action tearing at her throat. Her stunned attention shifted from the mirror, then to the man whose unearthly eyes bore into her. She blinked and assessed the situation, wondering if she’d ever be place two words into an intelligible sentence after tonight.
Lucien took a careful step backwards and stood by his chair, not seeking the abandoned comfort. It was obvious he intended to place as much space between them imaginable. She was unable to meet the darkness of his intent gaze and, instead, her eyes dropped to his hands. The pallor of his flesh appeared as brilliant as two bright beacons against his dark trousers.
He self-consciously slipped his hands into his pockets. Eva watched him for a long moment before her attention rose to the baffling darkness of his gaze. Her breath escaped her in a short little pant while she struggled to calm myself.
“Evangeline…” He began softly, his voice a whisper.
“Don’t you dare Evangeline me!” She snapped as she regained her breath.
“Let me explain…”
“Explain?” She shouted furiously. “What could you possibly tell me?”
“If you allow me…”
“Damn it! Ever since I did that interview with you, I’ve suffered two,” she paused and calculated the hours. “Shall we make it nearly three sleepless nights?”
“I didn't intend to disturb your sleep, Evangeline.” Lucien appeared contrite, although his jaw tightened.
“I’ve listened to this insatiable hum, in here.” She tapped her forefinger to her clammy forehead, and glared at him. “It’s driving me crazy and I’m tired of it!”
“I'm not responsible for what you’re hearing.” He protested with absolute innocence, his attention on the luminescent form hovering by the gilded frame. Lucien’s eyes held censure, and he grimaced at the flickering image. “If you have the need to place blame anywhere, blame him.”
Eva shifted a sidelong glance at the mirror, and the translucent outline shimmered. Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed, her cheek color alternating between a heated flush and stark pallor. She swallowed and turned.
“This…this….this thing is responsible?” She waved her trembling hand at the spirit.
“The voice and image are not of my making.”
“Have I gone crazy?” Eva managed to choke out the question, unable to think. There was an inner war waging within her, the journalism side longing to rationalize the situation, and the human side wanting to run in fear.
“No,” Lucien responded. “You haven't.”
“I’m not absolutely certain.”
“Lunacy’s never been a predominate factor in your family,” he assured with a grim quirk of his lips. “To be honest, out of all your relations, you're the sanest person I know.”
She let his comment hang in the air, unclear if she should be offended. She stared at him, striving to remain calm, and felt she was losing control of the situation.
“You can you see him, too?” She questioned in a hushed monotone, minute traces of shock lacing her normally steady voice.
Lucien’s hands tightened into fists deep in his pockets. The sigh escaping him was far heavier, revealing his discomfort. She stared into the unnatural darkness of his eyes, seeking answers, and he couldn’t maintain the contact.
He contemplated how to tell her of his power. The task was far more difficult than he imagined, since he hadn’t revealed his secret to a living soul for nearly four centuries. His lids lowered over his eyes as the living world tilted around him.
“I asked if you could see him,” she repeated more forcefully, rising. His eyes flew open and, hastily, he stepped back. Her hand touched air, and she growled in frustration.
“I've always seen him.” His admission was grudging, the grinding sound of his teeth loud. The darkness of his vision ebbed and the familiar steel color of his eyes swept over her anguished features.
“Always?”
“Yes,” Lucien didn't lift his eyes.
“Can you hear him?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I can.” Ruefully, he nodded. “Not as clearly but, yes. I can hear what he says,