One With the Shadows by Susan Squires Page A

soapy arm. Vampires.
    Who couldn’t stand the sun.
    Who moved from place to place silently as they transformed into bats.
    Who hypnotized their victims with red eyes. It was red, wasn’t it?
    Who sucked souls!
    She found herself trembling as though with cold in the steamy room. All she had heard of vampires came crashing in on her. They drank blood from people’s throats—my God! Just like the girl in the hotel. They couldn’t stand crucifixes or … silver (or was that werewolves?) or garlic. They were dead; corpses come to life. And strong—horribly strong. They had no reflections in mirrors. Had she ever seen Urbano in a mirror? She dropped the sponge. Where had he said his mother came from?
    Transylvania.
    An old family, he said.
    Two parts of her began to argue. It makes such sense, the first part shouted.
    Are you mad? There are no such things as vampires, the second said, more reasonably.
    You know it’s true in your soul.
    I believe in what I can see.
    Like you believe you’re having visions of the future, or that stones drive people mad?
    But I don’t believe those things!
    Then how can you explain them?
    “Stop this!” she whispered, shivering. She rinsed herself, stood, grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her torso. She believed in proof, not superstition. But what proof could there be that Urbano was or was not a vampire?
    Dear Lord, she was going to have to dress herself and go down to that carriage or slip out the back way and set off on her own. He would come after her. She was sure of it. What she wasn’t sure of was whether he would do it so that he could suck her blood and her soul, or to protect her from her own rash action. Because if she escaped with no money, no connections … she’d be back fending for herself on the streets. Or in a brothel. Oh, she didn’t like that thought. At the very least, her dream of a cottage would be up in smoke. She raised the lid of the trunk with a shaking hand. What would she do? The next minutes held a decision that was … unthinkable. Her mortal soul was in danger, but something else was in danger too. She had to know whether the world held things like vampires or not, because if it did, then everything else that was happening to her might be true too, in which case the world was a very different place than she’d imagined.
    Why hadn’t he sucked her blood?
    He’d sucked the blood of the tavern maid instead. Who hadn’t seemed the worse for wear. Indeed, she had been given a new confidence and the joy of feeling valued. But vampires are monsters. How were they killed? A stake through the heart.
    Dear me. I can’t imagine stabbing anyone in the heart.
    You who have lived on the streets by your wits? Is there anything you couldn’t do?
    Perhaps there was. She took a breath. She must know for certain what he was before she cast herself away from all chance of realizing her dream. Her eyes had been seeing nothing of the room around her. Now her glance fell to her trunk. There, on top of the folded dresses in tissue laid neatly inside, was the garnet crucifix she had refused. It was set in silver filigree.
    At least she could know.

Seven
    Gian tucked into a beefsteak in the little osteria that served the hotel, feeling better for a quick bath and a change of raiment. He should be thinking only of how he could get the emerald to Mirso Monastery where the world could be protected from it. That was his sworn duty. And he had always lived his life by duty and honor. Why else had he fought those damned wars in North Africa against appalling odds? He’d paid the price for that duty in nightmares and an ennui that left him uninterested in any aspect of life, including women. The girl had been right about the impotence just as she’d somehow guessed about the violence and the pain in his past. Perhaps LaRoque had told her when she had wormed her way into his confidence to steal the stone. Blast the girl. He should be concentrating on his mission. The