“Child, you will meet, you will love, and you will live. A very different existence, but all the same, you will go on. There is one caution, however.”
“Caution?”
“You have yet to learn
everything
about him.”
“The man I don’t know and don’t remember—I have to learn more about him? Sure, that sounds about right.” Her sarcasm choked her.
“Eternal love comes at a high price, dear.” She reached for Ambrosia’s hand and squeezed her fingers.
Ambrosia’s eyes welled up and her chest ached with anger as she pulled her hand back.
“I’m paying the biggest price life has to give, and it comes with pain, loneliness and no promise of love. I’m all alone, and since I’m about to die, I find it hard to believe that’s going to change at all.” She flung some bills on the table and rose to leave. “I never should have come here.”
“Wait, dear.”
“No.”
“I only ask one thing of you.” Madame Zovka stood up, unhooked a cane from the back of her chair, and leaned on its support.
“What?”
How dare she ask anything of me
?
“I only request that you learn more about astral projection, how you can be aware while in that experience, and remember, it is important. Find a book and read it.”
Ambrosia shot her a fiery glare with a torrent of tears streaming down her face, and then raced out of the tent.
About fifty feet back through the crowded midway, her legs grew weak and tired and she had to slow down or collapse. Fighting to catch her breath, she stumbled a little, lost her balance, and bumped into the back of a stranger with a clumsy thud.
“I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to….” She stopped. The tall man turned, his black T-shirt outlining a toned chest and muscular arms. Her lungs tightened as she struggled for oxygen—and fought her unexpected reaction.
“Are you all right?” His deep velvet voice shrouded her just before her knees gave out. Strong hands gripped her arms, easing her onto a bench at the side of the fairway.
“Thank you. I’m so embarrassed.” Tears blurred her vision. Blinking them away, she found a striking man with shoulder-length, ebony hair, kneeling before her. He watched her with dark, smoldering eyes.
“I shouldn’t have been in the way; I didn’t realize there was a relay race going on tonight.” His luscious lips curled back into a charming grin.
“My legs—just got away from me, I guess.” Ambrosia ran her hands down her numb thighs, trying to force feeling back into them. The noise and clatter faded and she felt enveloped in a cloak of peace.
“You’re very pale; should I get some help?” His eyes scanned her. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Self-conscious, she shifted her tank top into place and smoothed back her thinning hair.
“Are you sure?” He cupped icy fingers under her chin.
“Yes, thank you. Now that you mention it, you’re a little pale yourself.” Her teeth began to chatter.
“Well, you just about swept me off my feet.” He grinned, evoking the flutter of manic butterflies in her stomach. The man oozed charisma.
“I should be on my way now.” The dark pools of his eyes held a familiarity that drove her to search her mind.
Where have we met
?
“Do I know you?” She fisted her hands to keep from reaching for the sallow planes of his chiseled face.
“Well, I don’t know. I’m new in town, so I haven’t really had a chance to get out and meet anyone until tonight.” His cool hands grasped hers as he spoke.
Feeling a little dazed by the smoothness of his voice and the touch of his skin, Ambrosia sighed softly.
“Oh—I see. Well, thank you for your assistance.” She stared at his handsome face—pulled to him by some invisible, magnetic force.
“It was my pleasure.”
“I’ve kept you long enough and it’s getting late. I should go now.” Ambrosia glanced down and her jaw dropped. The mysterious stranger took her thin wrist in his hand and inspected her wide silver bangle watch.
“Isn’t that funny; your watch stopped at three thirty-three.” He glanced at his arm and reset the time to eleven fifty-nine then wound her watch while he held her hand.
“There, that’s better. I wouldn’t want to have you go around thinking its three thirty-three when it’s only midnight.” His penetrating stare sent a shockwave of longing through her weakened body.
“Ah—once again, thank you, sir.” She breathed in his warm, woodsy scent of lemon balsam and patchouli.
“My name is Desmond, Desmond Jacobs.”
“I’m A—Ambrosia Thatcher.”
“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Ambrosia. What a beautiful name.”
“Thank you—Desmond.”
Ambrosia’s muscles screamed as she got off the bench, and she tucked her chin trying to hide the grimace of pain.
“I uh—I hope we can bump into each other again.” The dark stranger stood as well, still facing her.
The corners of Ambrosia’s mouth pulled up in response to his striking grin.
“Maybe, who knows?” She backed away with stumbling steps, finding it difficult to stop watching him. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
She worked her wobbly legs as quickly as she could and then turned around and walked away.
“Sweet dreams....” Ambrosia turned around to reply, but he was gone.
Chapter Two
She continued to experience the same paralyzed, terrified awakening at three thirty-three each morning. But now, she remembered the dreams—or whatever they were. Hovering, with no control over her body, floating under the chin of the Statue of Liberty. The cool breeze, the lapping waves below, police sirens in the distance…so real. She rubbed the very real bump on her head, incurred when she swung around, smacking into Lady Liberty’s neck. A bizarre dream, and if that was astral projection, it was a lame attempt.
Ambrosia tried every technique she found in the esoteric tomes from her local bookstore in her futile attempts to astral project or even to remember if she had. When those failed, she turned to her old friend Google. The descriptions of relaxation and meditation methods were pointless. If she lay down or even sat to try the procedures, her sickness devoured her. Exhaustion overtook any vain attempts to relax. Usually she passed out, if not from fatigue then from the waves of agony that consumed her body.
Madame Zovka was a loon, and Ambrosia became furious that she’d believed her ridiculous tales. Sorting through her memories of that evening, her stomach fluttered at the sudden flash of dark, seductive eyes. An image of the stranger’s devilishly sexy grin brought a smile to her face. Her watch had stopped at the exact time she woke every night—but why? It had worked perfectly since her run in that evening.
Desmond
.
At the sudden shriek of the smoke alarm, she struggled into the kitchen.
I can’t even feed myself anymore; this is ridiculous
. Infuriated tears streamed down her cheeks as she tossed the cindered toast into the sink.
***
“The numbness is only going to get worse. I’m sorry, Ambrosia. You may have to consider using a wheelchair to get around.” The doctor’s sincere expression and gentle tone did nothing to ease her pain and anger.
“I’ll walk until I have no use of my legs at all. I’m not using a damn wheelchair. I’m not an invalid.”
“I realize how upsetting this is for you, but please, be realistic.”
“Dr. Williams, I don’t think I can stomach any more realism. I can’t sleep through the night, I can barely eat or walk, and the pain is unbearable. Can’t you just lie to me for a change?” She could hardly choke out the words as her throat grew thick. “Can’t you at least offer a glimmer of hope or something I can cling to?” Unable to hold back the building sobs any longer, Ambrosia broke down.
She couldn’t even muster the physical strength to climb down from the examination table. Her will just as strong and determined as ever, she cursed the battered body that lacked the ability to follow its direction.
“I would be giving you false hope. Your leukemia hasn’t responded to any treatment, and your anemia has reached a critical stage.” He slid her sleeve up her gangly forearm to reveal the excessive bruising that had now surfaced.
“If you would go back on your medicine, at least I could try to make you comfortable in your last—”
“In my last few weeks, right?”
“I’m afraid maybe days, if that. Your body is starting to shut down. Your pulse is weak, you’ve lost so much weight, your blood pressure is low, and your gross motor control is failing. Honestly, I should admit you to hospice care.”
“No, I won’t lie in a hospital bed, waiting to die.”
“The leukemia is spreading faster than we expected.” Standing at the sink, the doctor washed his hands. In a moment, he’d be in the hallway—and she’d be stranded on his damn table.
Working to slow her tearful sobs, Ambrosia hated that she had to beg for help. “Please help me down, Doctor. I have a date tonight and I have to get ready.
“A date?” His voice raised an octave, as he spun to stare at her in astonishment.
“My last date, so I’m gonna make it count.” She accepted his hand and climbed down.
“Ambrosia.”
“Mind over matter is my only recourse right now, so be it.” Determined to defy his cynicism, she pulled out a prescription bottle and cranked it open. “Could you please get me some water?”
He filled a plastic cup at the sink and handed it to her. “You’re taking your medicine?”
“Just the pain pills.” She popped two tablets into her mouth and chased them with the tepid tap water. Tossing the empty cup into the wastebasket, she reached for her clothes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dressed and go prepare for my date.”
“Ambrosia, you can’t possibly….”
“Why not? I have secluded myself for months now. My family is all gone, but my friends looked at me with such pity, I couldn’t bear it. I am taking this one night, with a complete stranger, to be held, to be cherished, to feel something for the last time. I’m not delusional, Dr. Williams. I’m lonely. This isn’t a cure, but it is just what I need for tonight. Then maybe I can find some peace, can find the strength to face my own death.”
“I see.”
***
The loneliness that consumed him for decades had taken its toll. He rarely left his loft, even to feed. Decorated in a Victorian style, his home had once been a welcome sanctuary, but melancholy had snuffed out pleasure even in his lovely surroundings. If this didn’t work, he was going to go to sleep, and never wake up again—ever. A long-time, faithful friend had agreed to help him carry out his plan, but only if he first considered an alternative.
Contact Madame Evangeline and seek out another. Hunt for a distraction that would vanquish your misery for a night and give you a reason to reconsider your suicide mission
.
He’d promised nothing, but since their discussion he’d made a discovery…one that had added a promise of light to his endless, dark existence. While traveling on the astral plane, he had encountered a woman. For months, he had enjoyed beautiful, erotic nights that gave him renewed interest in life—hope for a happy future.
Then, a few weeks before, she’d failed to appear, and he feared she never would again. He should have taken her when he had the chance. His appetite had been sharp, but his faith in eternal love had been so long repressed, he’d hesitated—and perhaps missed his only chance at happiness with her.
Once again hopeless, he contacted Madame Eve. His friend would not help him with his ultimate solution otherwise, but what was the point in finding another? His true mate had disappeared. He could only try to feed his insatiable sexual desires and perhaps find an inkling of tranquility.
Despite his ability to control his thirst for human blood, his sexual hunger had become debilitating, especially in the absence of his late night rendezvous with
her
. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember her delectable smell, the sweet taste of her kiss, the exquisite warmth of her body, but to no avail. The memories faded. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed.
“Aldon, it’s Desmond.”
“Hello, my dear friend.”
“Have you had any success?” A brief attempt at sounding hopeful was fruitless.
“No, I was not able to locate her, it’s as though she has completely vanished. I am sorry for letting you down.”
“It isn’t you who has let me down. I let myself down by holding back when I had her in my arms for the first time, the only time. I knew that was the moment, and I didn’t take her.” He sat.
“You were honorable in your self-control; you fought the instinct to turn her before she knew everything.”
“Perhaps, but none of that matters now.”
“Desmond, when was the last time you fed?”
“I am not sure, I haven’t thought about it lately.” He cast a guilty glance at the half-empty shelves of the glass-doored medical refrigerator across the room, untouched for weeks.
“Desmond, you have to feed before seeing a human for a night of—your bloodlust will overpower you.”
“I have no appetite.”
“I wish you would reconsider,” His pleading words were offered with hushed voice.
“What will change in the next millennium that hasn’t changed in the last? I have no interest in immortality, not anymore.” Desmond grew tired of justifying his decision.
“You mean not without
her
?”
“It would seem so, my friend.” Irritation was soon replaced with sadness.
“I can’t believe it’s happening tonight.”
“That’s why I’m calling. Having fulfilled your requirement, I am ready to complete our agreement, in the dawn’s early light. I have reserved you a room in the Castillo Hotel, so there will be no need to delay.”
“I don’t think I can—”
“You can and you will.” Determination colored his words. “You gave your word, and in all the time I have known you, you have never broken a promise. I’m counting on you.”
“This isn’t right.” Aldon’s voice grew louder.
“What’s done is done; there is nothing left for me.”
“As you wish, but I will miss you.”
“Thank you.”