Embrace the Night

Page 60



Gabriel sat forward in his seat, his gaze riveted on Sara's face as she took the stage. It was amazing, what she had accomplished in five short years. The audiences wondered how she had come so far so fast. It was nothing short of a miracle, they said, mystified by her phenomenal rise to fame. But for Gabriel there was no mystery involved. It was the blood, hisblood, that had wrought the miracle, enabling her to accomplish in a few years what it usually took decades to achieve.

While waiting for the curtain to go up, he had listened to the conversations around him, an easy task for a vampire. Everyone had been talking about Sara, marveling at how effortlessly she danced. Her performances were impeccable, they all agreed, her interpretations inspired.

And now, as he watched, he could only concur. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the floor, so that she seemed to float across the stage, as fluid as water, lighter than air. Her face was radiant, her eyes glowing, as she danced, and he knew that for this short space of time, she was Giselle. She had perfectly captured every nuance, every emotion.

When the final curtain came down, he sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. Her performance had been flawless. He knew then that she had been born to dance. What he had just seen could not be taught; it had come from within her heart, her soul.

You wanted only to see her, he reminded himself. Now you must go.

But his feet refused to obey the promptings of his mind, and he found himself standing in the shadows outside the stage door, waiting for one more glimpse of her face.

He sensed her nearness even before she emerged from the theater. At first, he saw only Sara, her vivid blue eyes sparkling, her long blond hair falling like a heavenly cloud about her slim shoulders.

And then he noticed the man at her side, the proprietary grip of his hand upon her arm.

A low growl rose in Gabriel's throat. His first instinct was to attack, to rip out the man's throat with his bare hands. And then he saw the way Sara smiled at the young man, the happiness in her eyes, and he felt as if someone had driven a stake through his heart.

Dissolving into mist, Gabriel followed them as they walked down the street to a small cafe. Inside, they sat at a back table, talking about the evening's performance. The man, whose name, Gabriel learned, was Maurice Delacroix, praised Sara's dancing.

"I was good, wasn't I?" she said, but there was no boasting in her tone, or in her expression. "It was odd, but I felt as if…"

"As if?"

"I don't know. I can't explain it, Maurice. I wish…"

Maurice leaned closer, his hand enfolding hers. "What do you wish, Sara?" "I wish Gabriel could have seen me dance tonight. I think he would have been pleased."

Maurice withdrew his hand from hers as if he'd been stung. "Gabriel again! When are you going to get over your infatuation with your benefactor?"