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. "
"It's been around that long?" Blake asked, teasing.
She gave him a melancholy look. "Longer. My mother used to sing it to me before I'd fall asleep.
Funny, I can't remember her face, but I remember her voice. " Blake swallowed hard. In time, she'd forget his face, too.
"How did you become a vampire?"
Elise fixed her gaze on Mencheres's van in front of them. "I was twenty-one when the Great Depression began. My husband, Richard, lost his job that first year, along with so many other people.
After several months, we lost our house, too. My parents were dead, but his mother was alive, so we stayed with her for a while. I gave birth to my daughter, Evangeline, during that time. Two months after she was born, Richard's mother died. She'd been behind on her house payments, so the bank took it, and there was no life insurance, so we were turned out into the street. Some friends of Richard's lived in Hoovervilles in Central Park, so that's where we went. "
"What's a Hooverville?" Blake asked.
"It's what everyone called the tent villages, after that bastard, President Hoover. Richard scraped together enough cardboard, wood, and trash-can scraps to make a shelter. Every day, he looked for work, but there wasn't any. Winter came, and my baby got sick. I took her to the hospital, but they sent us home. She died three days later. Two weeks after that, Richard jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge. "
"Oh, God, I'm sorry," Blake said, imagining Elise as the young, grief-stricken woman she must have been.
She swiped at her eyes. "I try never to think about that time. " Her voice was amazingly steady. "It hurts too much. It hurt too much then as well, which was why shortly after Richard's death, I jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, too. "
Blake gasped. "What?"
Elise nodded, a faraway look on her face. "I don't remember hitting the water. I just remember the cold.
There had been chunks of ice in the East River that day. I should have died; most people who jump off that bridge do, but Mencheres found me floating in the water and saved me. . . " Her voice trailed off - and then she screamed, "Stop!"
Blake slammed on the brakes so hard, his head almost hit the steering wheel. He looked around, but there was nothing in the road or any other reason he could see for her reaction.
"Jesus," he exclaimed. "Don't do that again. If I hadn't been wearing a seat belt, I'd have gone straight through the windshield and made Xaphan's day!"
Elise swung to look at him, her eyes blazing green and an expression he couldn't name on her face.
"The river," she muttered. "The ice. Of course. " Blake felt like she was speaking an unfamiliar language. "What are you talking about, Elise?" In reply she kissed him. Then she shot out of the car, turning the ignition off and taking the keys with her.
Elise stood next to Mencheres. The two of them were outside by the car, close enough that they could quickly reach Blake if Xaphan took him over but far enough away that Blake couldn't hear what she was saying.
"You told me when you first found me in the river, I didn't have a heartbeat," Elise said in a rush. "For all intents and purposes, I was dead, but the river was so cold that day, it gave me hypothermia. My body slowed down to clinical death, but when you pulled me out of the river, you warmed me, gave me your blood, and brought me back. If we induce severe hypothermia with Blake, his heart will stop, as will his breathing. He'll be dead enough to force Xaphan out onto the salt flats. Then, once the demon is gone, we'll bring Blake back. It's a long shot, but it could work. " Elise desperately wanted Mencheres to agree. But he'd had so much more experience with demons than she did; maybe there was something she was overlooking. What if it took too long from when Xaphan was expelled from Blake's body until his essence was destroyed? How many minutes could Blake be dead before there was no pulling him back from it?
"Come with me," Mencheres said.
He led her around to the side of the van. Elise's heart sank. Was Mencheres taking her out of Blake's eyesight to tell her that this couldn't be done? Did he want to give her privacy while she broke into tears when he delivered that hammer of a verdict?
Mencheres opened the back of the van. Inside it was an oblong container several feet long, with various medical devices she didn't recognize stacked around it. But the generators and portable defibrillator she knew at a glance, and there was only one reason they'd be there.
"You knew," she whispered. "You knew all long that there was a chance Blake could be saved this way.
Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you had to believe you would lose him in order to realize what he meant to you," Mencheres replied. "It's been so long since you cared for anyone. I wanted that for you again. " Elise looked once more at the items in the van. There were no guarantees that this would work, and she had a lot to learn in a short amount of time, but there was hope. At last, there was hope.
"All right," Elise said. "Let's get started. "