Ascension (6 page)

CHAPTER 5

“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.”

Zelda Fitzgerald

The next morning when I wake
up
, Julien's sitting on the end of his bed watching television. He's dressed in his suit, a cup of coffee in one hand, the channel changer in the other. The sound's on mute; he's reading news headlines. For a moment, the unreality of the scene strikes and I have to remind myself that the sense of tranquil domesticity is a mirage. He's probably thinking of his next move, which enemy he'll attack, what tactics he'll use in this war he's fighting.

Underneath the expensive suit and trappings of modernity is a knight itching to get his battle plan finalized.

I sit up and rub my eyes. My memories of the previous evening's events add to the sense of unreality that fills me – the walk along the waterfront was the last moment when I felt truly myself. After that, it was as if I've been transported to a different world – Julien's world. The confrontation when I almost denied him entrance to the room, the cutting, the revelations, his body next to mine on the bed, the image of him in the bathroom struggling against the sound of his own desire – only a few weeks ago, I could never imagine how any of it could happen to someone like me.

I get out of bed and go into the bathroom, needing a shower. I lodge my overnight bag against the door – not that it will keep him out if he truly wants to come it, but it might keep the door from opening a crack. I undress and turn on the water, enjoying the hot sting of it.

As I wash, I think about him, remember moments from last night. Intimacy's a strange thing – the man's embraced me, lain on top of me, rubbed his face on my neck, in my hair, kissed me, even touched my most sensitive flesh, and yet he's a stranger emotionally to me. I know more about his life than most people, and yet he's an unknown. He's another creature. I feel inexorably bound to him and yet he's a stranger. It's Stockholm Syndrome. He's been holding me emotional hostage since that day he rescued me. I'm starting to identify with him, as captives eventually do their hostage-taker.

As I shampoo my hair, I think about having sex with him. The truth is that in the fe
w disappointing relationships I
'
ve
had, being drunk was about the only way I could relax enough to do it and even then it was a blur. Oh, I felt desire, sometimes so much I felt it would suffocate me, but when it came to doing it, I balked like a frightened doe at the sound of a cocked gun. I couldn't let myself go. Michel was right about me. I need someone strong to take responsibility for my desire. Or therapy.

Or both.

I finish and dry off, dressing in my change of clothes that hang
s o
n the back of the bathroom door so the steam will draw out the wrinkles. I wear little makeup – just a bit of mascara and lipstick. I pull my hair back into a ponytail. If you looked at me, you'd never know I spent the night with a vampire
warrior
next to me.

When I emerge from the bathroom, he's reading the local paper, holding it up for closer inspection while sipping his coffee. I can't help myself and smile as I fold my nightgown and tuck my things back into my overnight bag.

He glances over. "What are you smiling about?"

I shake my head, biting my lip to stop my smile from broadening.

"You sitting there, looking like Clark
Kent
ready to go out to the world in your business suit disguise, superhero hiding underneath."

"It's a good analogy except for the 'hero' part." He turns back to the paper, a smile on his lips. "I'm offended. Antihero, thank you very much. They're so much more fun."

I zip up the bag and then pick up my briefcase and sort through the papers inside. He puts his paper down and turns to face me.

"So, how are you today? Recovered from last night?"

"Have you?" I say, thinking of him in the bathroom.

He turns away and shakes his paper, folding it up. "Never better."

"I have to pack up. My flight's this afternoon. I'll be going to the lab for the morning then I'll go right to the airport after lunch."

He stands and buttons his jacket. "Vasily will take you to the lab and stay with you. Then he'll go with you on the flight. I don't fly commercial."

"I don't want him following me around everywhere, Sir Julien."

"Mmm,
Sir
. How I love that." He comes over to me and brushes a strand of hair from my face. "You have to promise me that when you finally offer yourself to me, you'll call me that."

I turn away from him and fumble with my shoes.

"What am I supposed to say, ‘Here I am Sir? Come and get it?’" His certainty that I will do it irritates me and I can’t keep the frustration and anger out of my voice.

"That's nice," he says and turns me around, bending down to look in my face, "but I was thinking more like,
Oh, p
lease Sir, I need you to fuck me now
." He lifts my chin. "That'll do it, yes it will. Why, I imagine if you say it with that sweet little voice of yours, I might not even make it across the room."

I brush by him. "Don't hold your breath."

He laughs. "I'd have been dead dead long ago if I'd done that."

I pick up my coat and scarf and then look around the room.

"I've already paid and its automatic checkout so I'll just go now."

"Vasily can drive us over to the lab."

"I'd prefer to walk."

"Eve, you just can't walk around by yourself anymore."

"Why not? This is
Norfolk
, not
Boston
. I'm walking."

He shakes his head and holds the door for me. "Not gonna happen."

"Sir
Julien
, I need the exercise."

"Stop calling me Sir," he says. "Save it for when you beg, thanks."

“I won’t be begging.” I stand firm. "I'm walking."

He holds his hands up.

"All right. Fool yourself if you want. You can put your bags in the car and Vasily can follow us."

I finally give in. There's no point in arguing. But I'm determined our walk isn't going to be an idyllic stroll along the waterfront.

I grab a muffin and bottle of juice from the free breakfast buffet on my way out and wait outside the front entrance as Julien speaks with Vasily and makes arrangements for him to follow us. Julien puts on his coat and his fedora and dons some sunglasses. I wouldn't
have
known he was Julien if I met him on the street.

As he approaches, I start walking ahead, determined not to let him lead or take my arm as I imagine he'll try to do. Although I'm wearing heels, I'm adept in them due to my years of dance and can walk at quite a brisk pace if I need to. He hurries to catch up.

We walk in silence. I keep my focus on the water, watching the gulls circle around, eating my muffin.

"So it's going to be like that, is it Eve?"

I don't reply. We walk along the waterfront, and near the lab. I'm relieved that soon, we'll part and I can try to return to a normal life.
My
normal life. When we reach the walkway that leads to the lab, we stop.

"I don't get you, Eve," he says and turns to me. "One minute, you're smiling with me over something amusing. The next you won't even look at me."

"I was reminded that you've taken over my life – pretty much against my will."

"You said all in."

"As a researcher interested in understanding vampirism. As someone who wants to find out the truth. Not as your personal sex toy."

"It's a package deal."

I glance at him, see the mischievous grin on his face, and have to turn my own face away so he can't see my smile.
Damn him
. I start walking to the lab.

"Eve, Eve,
Eve
," he says and grabs my arm, stopping me. He puts his arms around me and forces me into an embrace, looking around as if to see if someone might think he was forcing me against my will. He takes off his sunglasses and looks down into my face. "You
like
me. You really do."

I try to turn away, hiding my face from those too-intense blue eyes, but he grabs my chin and stops me.

"You
want
me. You really do."

I close my eyes, but in truth, I feel like a small child plugging my ears at something I don't want to hear.

"Look at me," he says quickly, his voice soft. I open my eyes with reluctance. "I'm right here. Any time you decide that you
need
me, you just have to call."

I actually feel dizzy standing there in his arms, his voice so strong and certain, his gaze so intense.

An abyss. That's what he is. And I'm too close to the edge.

He leans down and kisses my cheek, pressing his lips there, squeezing my arms.

When he lets me go, I walk away without a word, not trusting my voice.

"Don't wait too long," he says, just loud enough for me to hear. "If I die on some operation, it'll be too late and then you won’t have either of us."

I stop in my tracks, anger and frustration filling me. That's emotional blackmail. I turn on my heel and storm back to where he stands and when I reach him, I hit his chest with a closed fist – not hard, just to make a point.

"Don't you make me feel guilty! You aren't going to use emotional blackmail to get me to be your little pet."

He grabs hold of my shoulders and glances around, then shakes me.

"Calm down."

"No, I'm not going to calm down," I say. "I've had it up to here with this! You and your
I need to fuck you Eve
. You're in my face wherever I go, trying to tempt me to be your little squeeze while you fight your war. Do you really think I'm looking for heartbreak? Do you really think I'll choose it?"

I hit him again, but it's a paltry attempt.

"Eve," he says and shakes me just a bit harder. "Listen, look at me. Let me tell you about something." I try to leave, but he won't let me, pulling me back into his arms. Finally I give in and stand there, fighting back tears.

"I have a telescope, a nice telescope. I attach a camera to the tripod and take pictures of stars and planets. I took one once of Tycho's Nova with a long exposure to let in as much light as possible. It's all purple and green and red, like a giant celestial flower on acid."

I look at the water, at the birds sitting along the lampposts, anywhere but in his eyes.

"It's a remnant of one of the brightest explosions in the universe - a Type 1a supernova. It happens when a star explodes after millions of years circling another, sucking up the other's matter until it passes critical mass. The small one's a dwarf, a pretty little thing, all shiny and burning bright white. The larger one is a giant, a big red seething angry fellow."

"Look," I say, fighting against the hypnotizing effect of his voice. "I'm sure this is a nice story, but I have to go."

"Just wait. Let me finish. The dwarf," he says and turns my face to his, smoothing my hair. "The dwarf isn't the kind that explodes on its own. It's too small, but put it next to the giant, bring them together close enough and a maelstrom forms, a violent convection that pulls them even closer until they're together so tightly that the giant's mass flows into the dwarf. Eventually, the dwarf passes this critical mass called the Chandrasekhar Limit. When it does, the explosion is five billion times brighter than the Sun."

I look up at him, unable to turn away.

"Eve, if the dwarf stays alone, it never passes that limit. It slowly dies, becoming so faint that no one can even see it anymore. But when that red giant gets close enough? For a brief second, a thing of beauty seen right across the universe."

A sense of deep anguish fills me.

"But it's destroyed, isn’t it? The dwarf dies."

He sighs. "Every human dies. What counts is how you live."

"I was living before you and Michel came along
,
"
I say, but
I know it's a lie.

"You were alive. You weren't really living. This," he says and pulls me closer, his lips almost touching mine. "This is living." He kisses me, pressing his mouth against mine – softly at first, and then with more passion, his lips parting, his tongue touching mine, his embrace tightening. A connection forms between us and I feel his desire for me, his need, and it makes me dizzy in its intensity. Finally, he lets me go and he's the one to turn away. He walks to the car where Vasily stands with the door open. He sits in the back seat, the door closing, the darkened windows blocking my view of him.

The morning goes slowly for me. I don't feel the enthusiasm for the work the way I did only yesterday. Julien's words at our parting haunt me, the image of the colliding stars, the explosion – it's a scary metaphor for the two of us. Part of me says to run, to call the police and enter the witness protection program, go into exile. The other part says to run to him, to lose myself in him, to feel completely possessed for once in my life – the way I thought I’d feel with Michel.