Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

considered, briefly, lying to her. “It’s possible.”
    “God, I hope you’re wrong.”
    He wanted to say he hoped so too, but he didn’t. He wanted it to be a vampire. As unthinkable as it was, he wanted it.
    His thoughts must have shown on his face because Elizabeth pulled away. “You hope it is one.”
    “No,” he said quickly, but couldn’t manage the lie. “Yes. I know it’s irrational, but I’ve spent too long searching to turn back now. If this is a lead, a real lead, I have to follow it.”
    Elizabeth was quiet, considering what he’d said. After a long moment, she nodded. “I guess I should put on some clothes then.”
    She read his confused expression and sighed again, this time in exasperation. “If you think you’re going vampire hunting by yourself you really are nuts.”
    “You don’t have to be involved in this. I’d really rather you weren’t.”
    Her face was a mixture of resignation and sadness. “I already am.”

Chapter Eighteen
    E lizabe th didn’t feel like a vampire hunter. She sure didn’t look like one. She’d always pictured them as grim men in long cloaks, stalking through the cemeteries of seventeenth century Europe. Her light floral pattern dress and ankle strap pumps were hardly de rigueur.
    Simon, on the other hand, could have slipped back a few centuries and fit right in. Judging from his dour expression, he had grim down to a science.
    He’d tried to talk her out of coming with him. He’d said, vampire or not, mucking about in a murder was dangerous business. But, she’d been his assistant back home and that wasn’t going to change now. Besides, if she was somehow connected to this mess, the more she knew, the better off she was. Not to mention the fact that she was curious too. She hadn’t sat through Professor Hayes’ endless lectures on Slavic folklore for her health. As frightening a prospect as it was, if a vampire really was involved in the killings, she wanted to know as badly as Simon. It seemed highly unlikely they’d actually find anything, but the possibility was there. Hell, they’d traveled back in time. Anything could happen.
    They went to the crime scene first. No yellow tape cordoned off the butcher shop. No large crowd was held at bay by the police. Even the severed pig’s head still sat in its place. A closed sign in the window was the only hint that it wasn’t business as usual.
    Simon looked from storefront to storefront trying to divine some clue in the location itself. He was as meticulous now as he was back home. It was one thing she envied about him. He could patiently work through endless stacks of materials, painstakingly sorting through them for that one kernel of evidence.
    People were a different matter. It was as though all his patience was spent on inanimate objects, leaving none for the rest of the world. Only the most brave or naïve students dared to darken his door during office hours. She wasn’t sure which category she fit into. A little of both, perhaps.
    In the end they complemented each other. Maybe the same would be true in a relationship. A thrill of both excitement and fear rushed through her. A relationship. She was in a relationship with Simon. At least, it felt like one. A day old and already she wondered how long it would last. She was being silly. Simon told her he loved her and he certainly wouldn’t have said it if he hadn’t meant it. But nagging doubts pricked at her. One night of bliss does not a relationship make. He was still the same man who’d pushed her away. The same man who’d spent thirty years keeping the world at arm’s length. Could he really simply push the reset button? Was it even possible?
    “There’s nothing of use here,” he said. “Are you ready to move on?”
    Lost in thought, she stared at him blankly for a minute.
    “Elizabeth,” he said, and held out his hand.
    “I’m ready,” she said and took his hand. After all, miracles did happen.
    * * *
    The sun had finally set, but instead of providing relief from the stifling heat, it merely cloaked it in darkness. The sharp spires of old St. Patrick’s rose in the distance like a fist full of daggers. Gothic architecture had never bothered her before, but now it seemed too jagged, too oppressive. The dark gray façade loomed over the small street, and a cold shiver ran down her back.
    As they walked up the steps of the cathedral, Elizabeth saw a familiar face. “Dix!”
    Happy to have any distraction from her