Father Hummer cleared his throat. “How long has that been going on, Miss Whitney?”
The terrible emptiness crouched in her gut, in her mind, waiting to leap, to sink its teeth into her again. Raven struggled for control. She lifted her chin. “Raven; please call me
Raven. You seem to know all about me anyway.” She was trying to control the trembling. Holding out her hands, she stared at them as they shook. “Isn’t this silly?”
“Come to my house, child. It will be dawn soon. You can spend the day with me. I would consider it a great honor.”
“He knew this would happen to me, didn’t he?” Raven asked softly, beginning to understand. “That’s why he sent you. He was afraid I might actually harm myself.”
Edgar Hummer let out his breath slowly. “I’m afraid so, child. They are not as we are.”
“So he tried to tell me. But I’m not like them. Why would this happen to me?” Raven asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why did he think this would happen?”
“You completed the ritual with him. You are his other half. The light to his darkness. One can’t be without the other. Come with me, Raven, back to my house. We’ll sit together and talk of Mikhail until he comes for you.”
Chapter Eight
Raven hesitated. The idea of learning more about Mikhail was tempting. Very tempting. “I think now that I know what is happening to me, I might be able to handle it on my own. It’s very late, Father, and I already feel ashamed that you’ve had to sit in the cold and watch over me.”
Father Hummer patted her wrist. “That’s nonsense, girl. I enjoy these little errands. At my age, one looks forward to the unusual. At least come downstairs and spend some time with me. Mrs. Galvenstein keeps a fire going in the parlor.”
Raven shook her head vigorously, an instinctive act of protection for Mikhail. The inn held many of his enemies within its walls. She would never place him in danger no matter how difficult a time she might be experiencing.
Edgar Hummer sighed softly. “I can’t leave you, Raven. I gave my word to Mikhail. He has done so much for my congregation, the people in this village, and asks little in return.” The priest rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I must stay, child, in case it grows worse.”
Raven swallowed hard. Margaret Summers was asleep somewhere in the building. Raven could guard herself, even her most intense grief, but she could easily read Father Hummer’s natural worry. If she could do it, Margaret could. Making up her mind, Raven caught up her jacket, brushed at the tears on her face, and led the way down the stairs before she changed her mind. The most important thing for her at that moment was to protect Mikhail. The need was elemental, part of her soul.
Once outside, Raven zipped her jacket to her chin. She had changed to her faded jeans and a college sweatshirt the moment she had returned to her room. Fog was everywhere, thick, only a foot or so from the ground. It was very cold. She glanced at the priest. His English might be a bit halting, but intelligence and integrity shone on his weathered features and in the faded blue of his eyes. He was cold from the time spent on the balcony. The priest was too old to be dragged from the warmth of his cottage to do such a task in the middle of the night.
She pushed back stray tendrils of hair as she forced herself to walk calmly through the village. It should have been peaceful, but she carried the knowledge that a group of fanatical people was murdering those they believed to be vampires. Inside her heart was aching and heavy. Her mind needed the reassurance of a mind touch with Mikhail. She glanced at the older man beside her. His walk was brisk, his manner restful, soothing. This was a man long ago at peace with himself and those around him.
“You’re certain he’s alive?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, just when she was so proud of herself for appearing normal.