Carpathian 02 - Dark Desire

empty, isolated world at bay.

Chapter Four
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    Shea opened the door to the night and inhaled deeply. The amount of information that flooded her was shocking. Creatures were roaming the forest, and Shea knew the precise location of each animal, from a pack of wolves several miles away to three mice scurrying in the bushes close by. She could hear water roaring in cascading falls and bubbling softly over rocks. The wind played through the trees, the underbrush, and the very leaves on the ground. The stars glittered overhead like millions of jewels radiating prisms of colors.
    Entranced, Shea stepped from the cottage, leaving the door open to allow the odor of blood and sweat and pain to seep outside, to be replaced with clean, fresh air. She could hear the sap running like blood in the trees. Every plant had a special scent, a vivid color. It was as if she had been reborn into a whole new world. She lifted her face to the stars, drawing air into her lungs, relaxing for the first time in forty-eight hours.
    An owl slipped silently through the sky, its wingspan incredibly long, each feather iridescent to her new sight. The sheer wonder of it drew her toward the deep woods. Droplets of water sparkled like diamonds on moss-covered rocks. The moss itself looked like emeralds scattered along the winding Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    stream and up the trunks of trees. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.
    Her mind, as always, processed the data flooding into her brain. It was all a huge jigsaw puzzle, but the pieces were beginning to fit themselves together. She had been born to a woman who ate food and walked in the sunshine. Yet she—and others—displayed decided differences in sensitivities, metabolism, nutritional requirements. It was impossible to believe that the vampire legends were true. But could there be a separate race of people with incredible gifts who needed to drink blood to survive? Could they live incredibly long lives, survive the unthinkable, be able to control their hearts and lungs? Their bodies would have to process everything differently. Their organs would have to be different. Everything would be different.
    Shea shoved at her hair. Her tongue swept her lower lip, teeth biting nervously. It was something out of a fairy tale. Or a horror film. Impossible. Wasn't it? A man could not survive seriously wounded, buried seven years in the earth. No way. It couldn't happen. But she had found him. It wasn't a lie. She had uncovered him herself. So how could one's sanity remain after seven years of being buried alive, of being in agony every moment? Her mind shied away from that question. She didn't want to dwell on it.
    And what was happening to her body? She was different. Many changes had started seven years ago, with sudden pain driving her to the point of unconsciousness. That episode had never been explained.
    Then the nightmares, so persistent, so relentless, never giving her a moment's peace, had started.
    Jacques. Always Jacques. The picture, two years ago, the human butchers had shown her. The seventh one. Jacques. Something drawing her, calling her insistently to that horrible place of torture and cruelty. To Jacques. They had to be connected. Somehow, some way. Intellectually it seemed impossible. By every standard she knew it was impossible. Yet wasn't her very existence strange? Her need to transfuse blood wasn't psychosomatic; she had tried everything to overcome it. So maybe there was another explanation, one her human mind and prejudices could not comprehend, even with the facts in front of her.
    Shea! The call was loud, a flood of fear and confusion, an impression of strangling, of darkness and pain.
    I'm here, Jacques. She sent her answer back so easily it startled her. To reassure him, she tried to fill her mind with every beautiful thing she saw.
    Come back to me. I need you.
    She smiled at the demand in his voice; her heart somersaulted at the raw truth in his voice. He never tried to hide anything from her, not even his elemental fear of her leaving him to face the darkness alone.
    Spoiled brat. She sent it tenderly. There's no need to sound like the lord of the manor. I'll be right in.
    There was no reasonable explanation for the joy flooding her at the touch of his mind lingering possessively in hers. She shied away from looking at that one too closely, too.
    Just come to me. He was more relaxed now,