Carpathian 02 - Dark Desire

focused completely on the task at hand. She would not lose this little boy. She wouldn't. It was that simple to her. She never gave herself any other choice, never allowed any other thought into her mind.
    She had a good team, knew they worked well with her, meshing like a finely tuned machine. She never had to look to see if they were reacting to what she wanted or needed; they were always there for her. If she was able to save her patients, where others couldn't, it wasn't by her efforts alone.
    She bent closer to the little boy, pushing out everything but her desire for this child to live. As she was reaching to take the instrument her nurse was handing her, something struck at her. Pain gripped her, consumed her, sweeping through her body like a terrible fire. She had felt such agony only one other time, a couple of years earlier. She had never managed to discover what had been wrong with her. The pain had simply disappeared after nearly twenty-four hours. Now, with a child's life hanging by a thread, depending upon her skills, she did not have the luxury of fainting.
    Agony gripped her, twisted her insides, and took the breath from her lungs. Shea struggled to control herself; years of forcing her mind to remain under strict discipline stood her in good stead.
    As she did with every other distraction, she forced the pain out of her mind, took a deep breath, and concentrated on the child.
    The nurse closest to her regarded the doctor with complete shock. In all the time she had worked with O'Halloran, admiring her, almost idolizing her, she had never seen the surgeon lose her Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    focus, not even for a second. This time, Shea had stood perfectly still — a few heartbeats, that was all — but the nurse couldn't help noticing because it was so unusual. Her hands had trembled, and she had broken out in a sweat. Automatically the nurse reached up to wipe the moisture from the doctor's forehead. To her horror, the cloth came away stained with blood. Droplets were beading up, seeping through her pores. The nurse wiped the surgeon's forehead a second time, attempting to hide the cloth from the others. She had never seen anything like it.
    Then Shea was once more herself, snapping instantly back to attention. The nurse swallowed all her questions and returned to work, the images of what Dr. O'Halloran needed coming into her mind so fast, she had no time to think about the strange phenomenon anymore. She had long ago become used to knowing what the doctor needed before she asked for it.
    Shea felt an unfamiliar presence in her mind, felt the dark malevolence beating at her for one more heartbeat before she closed it out; then her attention was completely taken up with the child and the shredded jumble that was his chest. He would not die. She would not allow it. You hear me, child? I'm here with you, and I will not let you die, she silently vowed. She meant it. She always meant it. It was as if part of her merged with her patients and somehow managed to keep them alive until modern medicine could kick in.
    Jacques slept for some time. It didn't matter to him how long it had been. Hunger was waiting. Pain was waiting. The treacherous heart and soul of a woman were waiting. He had an eternity to gather what strength he could, and she could never escape him now that he knew the mental path to her mind. He slept the sleep of immortals, his lungs and heart stopped as he lay in the earth, his body close to the soil it so desperately needed to aid healing, yet a thin layer of wood away. When he awakened, he scratched at the walls of his coffin patiently. He would reach the healing soil someday. He had managed to make a small hole to coax his prey to him. He could wait. She would never escape him. She was his single-minded purpose.
    He haunted her. Day or night. It didn't matter to him. He no longer knew the difference when it had mattered so much before. He lived to try to appease his ever-present hunger. He lived for revenge. For retribution. He lived to make her life a living hell during his waking hours. He became good at it. Taking possession of her mind for minutes at a time. It was impossible to figure her out. She was so complex.
    There were things in her brain that made little sense to him, and the few moments he could stay awake without losing his precious remaining blood did not give him sufficient time to understand her.
    There was the time