Midnight 01 - Luisa's Desire

since arriving in Tibet. Her first meal, as well, not to mention her first good—
     
    But her mind stopped short of calling what she had shared with Martin her first good tupping. Their encounter had been more rewarding than she expected, if also less than she desired.
     
    Frowning, she straightened her robe and ran her fingers through her waist-length hair. No more than this was required to keep her tidy. What Martin called her aura kept her person and her clothes in immaculate condition—though she had never lost her fondness for a lengthy soak. She would treat herself to one, she vowed, the minute she got home.
     
    But thoughts of Firenze made her restless. Swinging her cloak around her shoulders, she headed for the door. Apparently the nervous monk who stood outside was there for her protection: he let her pass without a word.
     
    Not wishing to disturb anyone else, she turned her steps down the abandoned corridor. The stiff yakhide soles of her boots made shushing sweeps through the eddies of frosted snow. Beneath its powdering the stones were cracked. Had this wing been new when Martin first lived in Shisharovar? Had he wandered down this hall as she did? Had his mind been filled with different dreams?
     
    She smiled at the ease with which she had accepted his beliefs.
     
    But how could she not? Since turning upyr she had seen more marvels than she could count.
     
    A narrow stairway led her upward, so dark even she had to feel her way by touch. The sound of air whistling drew her higher. Finally, after shouldering a heavy door aside, she reached the roof. Her breath caught at the vista that stretched before her: range upon range of rugged snowcapped mountains, their peaks milky and effulgent, their shadows streaks of sapphire ink. In every direction the towering crags marched over the horizon, as if their bulk filled all the world. The sky above them was the purest black she'd ever seen. Against its backdrop the stars seemed not like diamonds but pinprick holes through which the light of some higher sphere was breaking through.
     
    God is here, they seemed to say, a greater god than humans can conceive.
     
    Luisa felt simultaneously dwarfed and exhilarated. How can I exist? she thought. How can any creature? Why would God need more than the beauty of this night?
     
    She stepped through the shallow drifted snow, past gilded, onion-peaked structures that rose from blocks of stone. From pedestal to peak the things were twice her height and strung one to another with lines of wind-torn prayer flags. They exuded an eerie vibration as she passed. Were these the reliquaries her native guide had called chortens: containers for the possessions, and occasionally the remains, of holy abbots? Dorje had claimed the bodies were boiled in yak butter and salted to preserve them. The practice seemed bizarre, but who was she to judge? Whatever lay inside them, the structures must be some sort of shrine. They reminded her of churches she had known. The lamas' beliefs had not quite let their contents die.
     
    Reaching the wall at the perimeter of the roof, she crossed her arms atop the ledge. As she did, images of her sire came to her mind. What, she wondered, would Auriclus make of her present quest? For that matter, who would she be if he had not left her? If he had taught her more of his secrets, would her powers now be so great these lamas would be in awe of her? Would she even care about a thing like not living off stolen blood?
     
    Martin would care, she thought, then shook her head at how easily the monk filled her awareness. Her own father she barely recalled, so completely had her master's shadow subsumed his. But even Auriclus could not obscure the shadow Martin threw.
     
    Ever since he had withdrawn from her cell the night before, she had sensed him teetering on the cusp of a decision, one that would affect not just her mission but whatever chance they had of being more than a petitioner and her guide.
     
    Troubled, she joined her hands in an attitude of prayer. I want that too much, she thought. I want everything from him too much. She closed her eyes, then opened them to the sky. The truth was as undeniable as the stars. She loved him. For the second time in her long upyr life, and perhaps for the first time that was real, Luisa del Fiore was in love.
     
    She had not anticipated this development. How could she? Martin was no father figure like Auriclus. Nor was he a hedonist, despite having shown