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resist and bear it when the answer, the cure, sat no more
than eight feet away? Her left hand crept to her throat, clasping
the silver cross on its chain.
    Finally, when she doubted her nerves could
take much more of his anguish, the moaning began to fade. The
tension drained from him and his mouth closed again, the fangs
retracting. She saw the last of the red glow vanish from his eyes
as she met his gaze again. He collapsed back in the chair, his body
almost sinking into itself. He closed his eyes.
    He looked terrible, his face growing leaner
and looking older by the moment. Suffering etched harsh lines into
his cheeks and at his temples. The pale skin under his eyes showed
dark shadows. The hands now resting on the arms of the chair
trembled.
    She sighed and got to her feet. “I can’t do
this.” She snagged her coat, shrugged into it and grabbed her purse
as she headed for the door, forgetting his advice about turning her
back on him. She whirled when she heard him following her, but no
threat showed on his ravaged face. Just worry.
    “What are you doing?” he asked.
    “Leaving. I can’t do this to you.”
    His brows pulled together in a frown. He went
to the door, opened it and looked out. “It’s still snowing and
there are three inches or more on the ground already. You won’t
even make it back to your car in this.” He closed the door and
stood with his back against it. “Carol— It was Carol, right? A
Christmas Carol?” He managed a tight, painful grin. “You can’t go
now. It’s suicide. The weather’s deadly, it’s almost two o’clock in
the morning and I have no way to get help for you. Beside, I’d
rather you stay.”
    “So you’ll have a convenient drink handy if
the thirst gets too much for you?”
    He winced. “No. It’s just that… I just
realized… You’re not making it any harder. In fact— This is
selfish. So incredibly selfish. But I realized I don’t want to die
alone. And having you here reminds me why I’d rather die than
finish the transformation.”
     
    She felt like kicking herself for the cruel
dig. He deserved better, if only for the two times he’d already
restrained himself with such effort.
    The clock chimed the hour again. Two o’clock.
She was surprised at how fast the two hours since midnight had
passed while Michael told his story. She’d missed the bell for one
entirely, probably while he was telling his story. As if the
clock’s sound was a cue, the mist began to gather next to him in
the hall, coalescing rapidly into the form of Antoine again.
    “Michael, that was sooooo sweet,” he said.
“If I could still cry, I probably would. How are you holding out,
by the way? Have the convulsions started yet?”
    Antoine laughed at their expressions. “You
didn’t know about that? I suppose that means they haven’t. I’m too
early to enjoy the show. Oh, yes, it’s going to get very much worse
before you’re done.”
    He looked at Carol. “I’m surprised you’re
still here. You’ve seen the monster in him, and in truth, as they
say, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.”
    He laughed again. “Obviously I got here a bit
too early for the real entertainment. I’ll take my leave. But don’t
worry. I’ll be back when things get more interesting.”

Chapter
4
    Once he was gone, Michael went to the
fireplace and piled a few more logs onto the waning blaze, allowing
Carol the choice of going outside anyway or coming back in without
his interference.
    “He has a point,” Michael said, keeping his
back to her.
    She watched him for a few minutes, while
debating pros and cons. Michael roused such contradictory emotions.
She pitied him, admired him and feared him. She wanted to hug him,
make him better. She wanted to run away and hide from him. She
hated the thought of him dying, but agreed it would be better than
the alternative. He fascinated her and horrified her at the same
time.
    Given the weather, the time of day and the
empty countryside, running away