“What do you mean, no compassion?” Brice protested. “There’s a little girl who never did anyone any harm suffering and I’m doing everything I can to help her.”
Francesca moved around him when he would have stopped her, and slid behind the wheel of her car. “Later this evening. I promise I’ll look at the little girl tonight for you.” She started the car.
“You’re not taking that old man home, are you?” Brice demanded in spite of her admonishment. “You’d better be taking him to the shelter. He’s dirty and probably covered with fleas. You don’t know the first thing about him. I mean it, Francesca, don’t you dare take him home with you.”
Francesca gave him one haughty little frown before she drove away without a backward glance. “Pay no attention to Brice. He’s a very good doctor, but he likes to think he can tell me what to do.” She glanced at her silent companion. He was hunched very small on his side of the car. She still had not gotten a good look at him. Not even his face. He was hiding in the shadows, keeping his face averted from her. She wasn’t even certain he understood that she was trying to help him. She had the impression of a great man, one used to wealth and authority, probably terribly humiliated by his present circumstances. It hadn’t helped that Brice had been so rude. “It will be just a few minutes and I’ll get you somewhere warm and safe. There will be plenty of food.”
Her voice was so wonderful. It touched him somewhere deep inside, calming him, holding the beast leashed when he could never have done so alone. Perhaps if she was near him when he fed he would be able to control the demon when it rose. Gabriel buried his face in his hands. God help him, he didn’t want to kill her. His body shook with the effort to control its need for hot blood pouring into shriveled, starving cells. This was so dangerous. So incredibly dangerous.
The car took him a short distance from the busy city streets along a narrow lane where trees and thick shrubbery grew. The house was large and rambled here and there with no particular style. It was old-fashioned with a wide verandah and long straight columns. Gabriel hesitated when he opened the door of the contraption. Should he go with her or should he stay? He was weak. He couldn’t wait much longer. He had to feed. He had no choice.
Francesca took his arm and helped him as he staggered up the long stairway to the house. “I’m sorry, I know there are quite a few stairs. You can lean on me if you need to.” She didn’t know why it was so imperative she help this stranger, but everything in her demanded she do so.
With a sinking heart, Gabriel allowed the woman to help him up the numerous stairs to her dwelling. He feared it was inevitable that he would kill her. He would join the ranks of the undead and there would be no one to destroy Lucian. No one to destroy either of them. No one capable of destroying them. The world would have two monsters unequaled in evil. There were too many hours until dawn. The need for blood would overcome his good intentions. And this poor innocent woman with far too much compassion in her would be the one to pay the ultimate price for her kindness and mercy to one such as he.
“No!” The denial was a harsh growl. Gabriel tore his arm from her grasp and jerked away from the door. He staggered, lost his balance and fell.
At once Francesca was beside him. “What are you afraid of? I won’t hurt you.” He was trembling beneath her fingers, radiating stark fear. His head was averted, hidden deep within the folds of the hood, one shoulder hunched as if to block her out.
Gabriel got slowly to his feet. He didn’t have the strength to get away from this young woman, from the warmth and compassion in her voice, from the life bursting in her veins. He bowed his head as he stepped through the doorway into her home. He prayed for strength. He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for a miracle.