MyNavarre. That was what Katlaina had called him. For an instant, her image flashed through his mind.
"You're going to spare my life?" He felt a faint stirring of hope in his breast, a fluttering as faint as the wings of a fledgling chick.
"I'm going to change your life. I've killed all the others, but not you, myNavarre . You are not like the others, and that intrigues me. You do not grovel at my feet, nor do you weep and plead for mercy. But it is more than that." She ran her hand over his chest. "You tempt me,Navarre , in ways I have not been tempted in five hundred years."
"You're going to let me go, then?" That first faint ray of hope brightened within him, as radiant as the noonday sun. He was going to live. He would see Katlaina again.
The goddess looked down at him, a trace of pity in her eyes. "My,Navarre ," she murmured. "I'm going to give you a new life, one you never dreamed of."
Relief washed through him, warm and sweet, like honey kissed by the sun.
"I'm not going to die, Katlaina," he murmured, and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes.
"Oh, yes." The goddess caressed his cheek. "You must die, but for a moment only, my handsome one, and then you will be reborn into life eternal."
Only then did he realize how quickly hope could be crushed. "I don't understand."
"You will." Her voice grew deep, husky, ominous. There was a sound, like the rushing of many wings, and the candles went out, leaving them in darkness.
He was truly afraid now. The darkness seemed to grow thicker, heavier, yet even in that thick blackness, he could see her face, her eyes. Red eyes, filled with an insatiable hunger and an unholy lust.
"No!" He screamed the word even as he willed his body to move, to run before it was too late. But her hand rested heavily on his chest. Just her hand, holding him down as if he had no more strength than his own newborn child, and he could only lie there, the stone beneath him as cold as the grave.
She bent over him, her eyes glowing. He gasped as he felt her teeth at his throat. His heartbeat sounded like thunder in his ears. Her teeth pierced his flesh, her hands held him immobile. He felt a trickle of blood run down his neck, felt her tongue lap it up. Her touch stole his breath, his life.
He felt the weight of eternity, the loneliness of hell, the coldness of death. And then, gradually, warmth crept back into him, and with it a sense of well-being, of strength, of life.
He opened his eyes to darkness, and yet he could see clearly.
The goddess Shaylyn sat on the end of the altar. Her skin was no longer pale. Her cheeks were the color of ripe peaches; her lips were as red as... blood. His blood. She regarded him through eyes that no longer glowed, but were again a deep, endless black.
"Welcome," she said. "Welcome to the world of the undead."
Feeling weak and disoriented,Navarre sat up. "What happened?"
"I have given you eternal life, my braveNavarre . You need fear death no longer. You will stay as you are now forever. You will not age. You will never be sick. You will have the strength of ten strong men. If you are cut, you will heal."
"What nonsense is this?"Navarre demanded.
"I assure you, it is not nonsense." She stood up and walked the length of the room, then returned to the altar.
"I have lived in this place for five hundred years," she said, and her voice echoed off the walls. "Five hundred years! It is enough."
"You want me to believe you are five hundred years old?"
"No, myNavarre . I am far older than that. In the beginning, I needed to feed every night, but as the centuries went by, the need for nourishment grew less, and when I grew weary of traveling, I came here. I spoke to the priests. I told them I would give them peace and plenty if they would provide me with a living male sacrifice every five-and-twenty years."
She laughed softly, a sound like dead leaves stirred by an ill wind. "Foolish, puny mortals, so eager for something to believe in. As if I had the power to end sickness, to make their crops grow, to end wars