At last, I find my voice. “You are Sani.”
He nods.
“How did you know you would find me here?”
“You found me, did you not?” There is a hint of humor in the deep rumble of his voice. “You are the visitor.”
“But I was told you wouldn’t see me. That the Navajo fear death above al else. I am the walking dead. I did not believe you would see me.”
“I am here now.” Sani reaches out a hand and touches my cheek. “You have a question.”
His touch sends warmth rushing through me. I want to press that hand against my cheek and hold it there. Instead, I force myself to remain stil, hoping if I do, his gentle fingers wil remain against my skin.
After a moment, he drops his hand.
The warmth remains, giving me the courage to speak. “I am vampire. I come to seek your counsel. I am told you can restore mortal life to the undead.”
“And that is what you wish?”
“Yes. No. I am conflicted. I have a family. A human family.
When they are gone, I wil be alone in this world. I fear loneliness.”
“And yet you are conflicted.”
“I am cal ed the Chosen One. Destined to resist dark forces in the vampire community that seek to dominate mankind. If I relinquish that responsibility, I risk subjecting mankind to a terrible end. I don’t know why I was chosen to shoulder that burden. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle it. But as a vampire, I know I have a chance. As a human, I fear I have none.”
Sani listens, his expressive eyes seem to penetrate through word and thought and reach into my soul. His face is beautiful in its serenity. I am breathless waiting for him to speak.
“You have a good heart,” he says final y. “The heart of a warrior. It is why we meet here. You want to return to the life you knew before. And yet, you are more powerful as vampire and can prevent great evil.”
He lifts my chin with gentle fingers to look into my eyes.
“You fear the loneliness you wil suffer when your family passes on and you are left behind. But is that not the fate of al who are chosen to lead? Perhaps loneliness is the price one must pay for the opportunity to do great deeds.”
I am caught in the cadence of his speech, spel bound by the light in his eyes. Even the rhythm of my heartbeat seems to slow in anticipation of his next words.
“Throughout the ages, there have been those given a higher cal ing. Brave men and women forced to face their fears, to sacrifice their happiness, to choose the greater good over personal desires. You are at a crossroads, Anna.
If you choose to return to mortality, can you accept the consequences? Could you live with the consequences?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I know what he’s saying. Can I accept it? Stil, there is something else, something darker I need to tel him. “There is another thing I fear. Vampire becomes stronger every day. She senses evil and seeks to destroy it. Sometimes I can control the impulse to kil, sometimes I don’t want to.” I let my voice drop, ashamed to admit the truth. “Kil ing has become too easy. Human or otherwise, it doesn’t matter.”
“You are too critical of yourself,” Sani says, brushing the air with a hand. “You have a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong. Trust your instincts.” He bends his head closer. “What you must not do is make a hasty decision. You mustn’t let emotions overwhelm you.”
He sits back, his eyes flashing in the dim light. “But there is something more to consider. There is a steep price to pay if you choose mortality. Your body went through changes when you became vampire. The stress on your organs by the reverse transformation is more severe. You could expect to live no longer than twenty years in a continual state of decline. You wil not reach old age. Are you wil ing to bear that cost as wel?”
He gathers his robe around him. “I want you to think hard about what you ask of me. You have many things on your mind now. Your friend needs you. Deal with what you must.
Later, when you have had time to reflect, look for the wolf.
She wil reunite us.”
There is a sound behind me and the two robed Navajo who accompanied Sani into the chamber suddenly return.
They help him to his feet.
“Go in peace, Anna,” Sani says. “We wil meet again.”
Before I have risen to my feet, he is gone.
I run back to the cave entrance, faster than most animals, a hundred times faster than men, and wait to say my farewel.
I neither passed Sani and his companions on the path nor do they appear at the entrance. Did they take the opposite fork? How were tle to get out without my seeing?
Could what happened have been an il usion?
I stare up at the sky, now bluer than blue, and breathe in the sun-soaked air.
No. I carry Sani’s words with me. I feel them like a warm glow in my heart.
I have a decision to make.
But not this minute.
Sani is right.
Frey’s face floats to the surface of my thoughts. He’s waiting for me at Sarah’s home. A friend in need of solace, a child in need of comfort.
This time when I head out, the Jeep has a much easier time of it. The ground no longer feels the need to trap it but cooperates with the crunch of grit under tires that gradual y lose their casing of mud.
Sani’s work?
Wind stil sputters, raising dust devils that whip ahead then fal behind. This afternoon there are many sounds. Birds screeching, fluttering overhead. Predator and prey scurrying behind rocks. The lone bay of a dog.
But there is something missing.
I no longer hear the distant heartbeat of the mountain.
CHAPTER 32
AS DIFFICULT AS IT IS TO GET SANI’S WORDS OUT of my head, his face out of my mind, I focus on Frey as I near the house. I park a quarter of a mile away, beside scrub brush that hides the Jeep from prying eyes. Then I jog closer.
No cars. Not the one I passed with the elderly couple, not Kayani’s police SUV. I don’t see the van George was driving yesterday, either, so it looks everyone has gone.
Stil, I approach cautiously, intending to peek into the window just to be sure the coast is clear.
“I wondered when you’d come back.”
Frey’s voice from the corner of the porch. In the dusk, I didn’t see him shrouded in shadow sitting on the chair Mary occupied when we had our talk. Seems a long time ago now.
I take a seat beside him. His face is drawn, eyes downcast. I detect a whiff of sage and smoke emanating from his clothes. There’s a smudge of something dark—
ashes maybe — on his right cheek.
For a few moments neither of us speaks. The grief is his and I won’t intrude. Nothing I have to say wil do anything more than add to the ache he must be feeling.
When at last he breaks the silence, his voice is thick, as if sadness has swel ed his throat making speech difficult.
“Kayani said he saw you at the lodge.”
I nod.
