But without any vampire blood in Blake, his death was irreversible.
They exited the train. Elise kept hold of Blake’s hand because she couldn’t stand not to touch him, but Mencheres’s hand on Blake’s shoulder was for a different reason—to restrain him in case the demon tried to make a run for it again. Xaphan had taken over Blake last night, going ballistic and trashing the interior of the cabin before Mencheres stilled him. Elise had to green-eye the train workers so they didn’t call the police at the disturbance. You’ll all die tomorrow, Xaphan had spat before crawling back into whatever hole he’d burrowed inside Blake. No, they hadn’t heard the last from Xaphan.
Elise didn’t know what the demon had in store for them, but she knew he wouldn’t go gently into that good night. Still, Xaphan wasn’t scaring her with his threats. He was just solidifying her resolve to do anything to make sure Blake had his victory over the demon. If Blake was willing to die for that, so was she.
Mencheres had two vehicles waiting for them in the parking garage. One was a regular four-door sedan, but the other was a large van. Elise’s heart clenched at the thought of loading Blake’s body into the van afterward. At least he wouldn’t be stuffed into a trunk. That indignity she couldn’t stand.
“Wait a few days until you mail my letters,” Blake said to her quietly. He’d written to his family, apologizing for what they thought he’d done and telling them he loved them.
“All right.”
She didn’t tell Blake that she had no intention of mailing those letters. She’d deliver them in person and make sure, with all her inhuman power, that they didn’t think less of the amazing man walking next to her.
Mencheres stopped by the van. “I’ll drive this one,” he stated. “You and Blake follow me in the car.”
Elise didn’t move. No, no, was running through her mind in a roar. Blake leaned down and, very gently, kissed her cheek. “Don’t come apart on me now,” he breathed.
She nodded and forced her legs to move, one step after the other. Somehow, she made it into the car, Blake in the driver’s seat next to her. Mencheres started up the van, and Blake followed him out of the parking lot into the bright morning sunshine.
Chapter Thirteen
Blake glanced at the landscape zoom by along Interstate 80. This was the first he’d been to Utah. In fact, it was the first time he’d been out West. He’d stayed mostly on the East Coast during his thirty-seven years. Born in Massachusetts, enlisted in the army after high school, graduated from Penn State, married in New Jersey, divorced in New York City, possessed in New York City, met a vampire in DC, died in Utah, Blake reflected. There was so much he’d wanted to do with his life, but somehow, he’d let most of that be swallowed up under promises of “later.”
Now that there was no more “later,” Blake couldn’t help the sadness washing over him. He wished he’d spent more time with his family. Gotten to know his friends better. Let go of jealousies and resentments a lot quicker. All that time, so much of it wasted, Blake thought. What I wouldn’t give to live it all over again, especially with Elise by me.
Even as the regret filled him, Blake pushed it back. He’d chosen his life, such as it was, and he’d been allowed to meet the most amazing person before the end of it. Plus, what he was doing now was the equivalent of jumping on a grenade to save dozens of people, if not more. Blake harnessed the same mentality that had seen him through a two-year stint in Iraq during the First Gulf War. Complete your mission. Don’t fail your unit. Right now, Elise was his unit. He’d make her proud of him.
“I don’t want you going back to your home in the tunnels,” Blake said.
She looked at him, her eyes wide. “What?”
“I don’t want you going back to your home in the tunnels,” he repeated, emphasizing each word. “I don’t want you spending the next fifty years like the last fifty. I know this is going to be hard on you, but don’t let it push you back to how you were, avoiding everyone so you don’t have to care for anyone. I can stand dying, Elise, but I can’t stand the thought of that.”
Her jaw flexed, and she blinked a few times, but she didn’t reply.
“Promise me,” Blake said, hardening his voice.
“I promise.”
Her words were choked. Blake looked back at the road, something tight inside him easing. Elise would go on. She’d live long enough for both of them, and one day, some lucky bastard would come along and make her happy.
And whoever he was, Blake hated him. Guess he wasn’t finished being jealous after all.
Blake started to whistle to distract himself from that line of thought. Oddly enough, he found himself whistling that same tune Elise had earlier in the week, “Beautiful Dreamer.” After a few minutes, some of the stiffness left her frame.
“I love that song,” she murmured. “It was my favorite as a child.”