Dance with the Devil

kissed her again.
        When they broke apart this second time, she said, “I can't help but feel that the wolf was more than a dog that-”
        “Now,” he said, interrupting her, “you're the pessimist, and I'm the optimist. How did this reversal of roles come about so quickly?”
        “Really, Alex, the whole thing scares me.”
        “Let me tell you an old superstition.”
        “I've heard enough of those lately, thank you.”
        He kissed her nose and said, “This one is different. There is an old superstition that states that no evil can touch a man-no werewolf claw him, no vampire bite him, no devil claim him-if he loves someone and if someone loves him in return. Therefore, with a little time and a little trust, I think we can safely forget about the wolf. It won't be able to touch us.”
        “ Now,” she said, “you're getting a bit too bold.”
        “I am?”
        “Yes,” she said. “But tell me the same story tomorrow and see if I find it less forward than I do now.”
        “Do you think you will?”
        “That's a distinct possibility,” she said.
        “I'll tell you that story every day from now on, if necessary,” Alex said. “Since you work here, I've got a captive audience.”
        The snow had ceased altogether, and the wind was far less furious than it had been a few hours earlier. A pair of owls departed the rafters of the house, hooting as they began a search for prey. The sound of their hollow voices carried to Katherine and Alex and seemed, in their gentle way, to be presentiments for a more peaceful, happy future.