The combined smells of his baby-fine hair and his masculine sweat drove her beyond a point at which she could deny him.

"I love you," she muttered into his soft hair, bringing several strands closer in order to smell and taste him.

He stopped and rested his lips on her bare midriff.

"I can't promise you love, Lil."

"And I can't ask it of you. Allow me to at least share what I am feeling. What I have felt for so many years."

He chortled and kissed her skin.

"We've only known each other for a month."

"You've been in my heart for centuries," she whispered.

David looked up at her. "Funny, you don't look like such an old crone."

"I never will." Liliana scooped up his chin and rushed into a breathless kiss. "Make love to me," she cried out as he lowered her to the floor. "Make love to me like you always should have." The chaste love's name, "Stuart," almost pa.s.sed her lips, but she caught herself and settled for a protracted hiss that fed the steam in David's hurried movements.

Clothes cast aside, the two lovers explored each other. The dampness of his flesh stirred the hunger within Liliana, and she lapped at the dewy salty flesh. When she reached a pulse point, she immediately withdrew her tongue in favor of biting down on her inner cheek. She thrust her hips up toward his tumescence, her hands gripping his b.u.t.tocks to bring him closer. As he slid into her, a burst of blood dribbled onto her tongue. She had broken her own flesh in order to drink without stealing his life. The blood did not quench her thirst, but it controlled the hunger.

Wrapped in the scents of bell-shaped flowers, s.e.x, and blood, she heard the panting and felt the slapping of flesh on flesh as she reached her o.r.g.a.s.m.

Chapter 44.

"G.o.d, you've become so lazy. I can't get you to do a thing for me, and if you do something for me, I can't get you to do it right."

Matilda emptied the grocery bag, noting that half the items she had requested were not there.

"What did you do with the list I gave you?"

Cecelia shrugged.

"You go out with your friends and forget the rest of the world exists. What did you and Linda do, spend the afternoon mooning over boys at the mall?"

"I don't moon over boys, Mom."

"Listen, young lady, remember you're not as old as you'd like people to think. And what's this?"

"A new shirt."

"Did you need a new shirt?" Matilda asked, holding up a long-sleeved denim shirt.

"Mom, you've never liked my halter tops. Think you'd be happy that I'm covering up."

"You have started to look more like a respectable young lady, I have to give you that much credit. Where are all those flimsy tops and shorts anyway?"

"Here and there."

"Does that mean they're all in the hamper and you're too lazy to wash them?"

"No. They're in closets and drawers. I was thinking about taking them down to the church."

"The church? What are they going to do with your clothes?"

"Give them to people who need them."

"My G.o.d, do you think the church is going to pa.s.s out your old s.n.a.t.c.hes of material? They'd be more apt to burn them, I'm sure."

Thirsty. Cecelia couldn't drink enough to quench her thirst, and it seemed to be getting worse each time she visited with Sade. She wondered whether he could have pa.s.sed some disease to her. She didn't know of any venereal disease that caused constant thirst, but then, she hadn't really read up on the diseases. She had been too busy memorizing the how-to books.

"I have to be honest with you, Cecelia, I'm of two minds about you not being willing to help me out at the Sade residence. I used to think that you spent too much time bothering Mr. Sade, but you were also a big help to me."

"I told you, Mom. I don't feel comfortable there anymore."

Besides, Sade had recommended she stop the visits to his house in favor of the trysts they frequently had either in the middle of the afternoon or evening.

"Did Mr. Sade ever do anything or say anything to make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Mom! I told you it was nothing he did. I just don't like being around his niece and that strange menagerie of animals she keeps. And what a sicko job she has. I'm surprised you continue to work for them. I know you could fill that s.p.a.ce of time with another client. Why don't you?"

"Because no one pays as well as Mr. Sade, and I actually find Liliana to be quite nice."

"Ms. Plissay to you."

"You're right, one of these times I'm going to slip while I'm talking to her, although she has invited me to call her by her first name."

"Big deal. The princess has deigned to acknowledge you." A bottle of room-temperature soda water sat on the kitchen table. Quickly Cecelia grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap, and drank a third of the bottle in one swallow.

"You couldn't put that soda water in a gla.s.s? Are we supposed to drink out of that bottle after you've had you mouth on it?" Matilda put her hands on her ap.r.o.ned hips and waited for an answer.

Cecelia's only reply was to drink another third of the bottle.

"Drink like that, and you'll be complaining of tummy pains. All that carbonation."

A nap would be nice now, thought Cecelia. She checked her watch and noted it was half past noon. Seemed like everyday at this time she was ready for a nap. Made her feel like a kindergartner again. Her eyelids felt weighty, as if each slender lash had the heft of a ten-pound dumbbell.

"Has your brain stopped working completely?" Her mother's voice came from a distance, from another planet, for all Cecelia could tell.

"Are you listening to me?"

No. Why should Cecelia listen? Her mother had nothing good to say. Always complaining. Always criticizing. Always pulling Cecelia back to a dull little house on an innocuous street, surrounded by drones that followed orders to the letter.

"What is wrong with you, Cecelia?"

"Nothing. I'm going to take a nap."

"In the middle of the day? Let me feel your forehead."

Matilda reached out, and Cecelia swatted her hand away.

"I only want to see whether you are running a fever." Again she stretched out her arm and finally touched her daughter's forehead. "My, you're exceptionally cool."

"Cool. That's me, Mom."

"On a hot day like today, I would have expected at least a little sweat." Matilda removed her hand from Cecelia's forehead.

"Too hot. Too cold. I'll never be just right. Mom, you're never happy."

"Don't get smart. I worry about you."

"Mom, I'm fine. I didn't get enough sleep last night, so I want to lie down."

"Well, tonight there'll be no running around for you. You can cancel your date with Joe and get to bed at a decent hour."

Cecelia's arms and back ached. Perhaps she should cancel tonight. But no, she wouldn't. He would be waiting at the cabin. Her dry mouth needed one more sip. One more drop of his blood.

"You know what? I'm really not so tired. Why don't I go back to the store and pick up the things I forgot?"

"And who will drive you?"

"Joe. He's probably home now."

Matilda sighed.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, take a nap and see him tonight. No sense running yourself into the ground." Matilda pulled her daughter close for a hug.

While slipping her arms around her mother, Cecelia noticed a heightened awareness of her mother's body odor. A mix of sweat and stale cologne. A touch of cleanser and...

Suddenly she became aware of her mother's pulse, the steady throb expanding and contracting her mother's fleshy neck, the bubble and gurgle of surging blood. Cecelia nuzzled into her mother's neck, savoring the scent and vibration. She licked the pulsing flesh, and her mother pulled away.

"What are you doing acting like a little puppy? Go off, nap, and see your Joe tonight. I should be happy anyway that you've lost interest in Mr. Sade."

Chapter 45.

Dampness surrounded Liliana. Caught in a whirlpool of blood, splattering the leaves, splattering the earth. Soaking her clothes and skin.

Piercing cries. Frightened squeaks.

Life fluttering away in her hands. Struggling. Twitching. Still.

What rodent had she just thrown away? Dazed, she couldn't center her vision on her surroundings. Didn't want to.

A rat. A mouse. Something bigger in her hands. Something that clawed and fought. As long as it was not human but had a pulse.

She ravaged animal after animal at the edge of the forest near the cemetery.

The cemetery.

Her stomach rumbled. It roiled. But her mouth seemed eternally parched. No amount of blood appeased the hunger. She sucked on furry flesh. Bits of hair caught in her throat. Mites and fleas tickled her nostrils. She sneezed and felt bits of flesh hit her hands.

Liliana fell to her knees and began her predator crawl, sensing life deep in the shrubbery, deep in the earth.

Her fingers scratched at the soil. Dirt crusted under her b.l.o.o.d.y fingernails.

She sniffed the air and heard the crackle of a branch.

She sprang and pounced on an animal. Her fangs sunk into the flesh, ripping out the throat. Shivers. The giving up of a life. Nosing into the wound, Liliana caught the odor of fresh kill. The stink enhanced her appet.i.te. The taste would always be inferior. She recalled savoring the live kill of a particular man long ago. The richness of his blood, the viscous volume of blood, the peace that came with holding the man near. The rush of power. Winning the battle without a struggle. He had come pa.s.sionately into her arms, stroking her body with large rough hands, entering her, as she tensed her muscles.

The animal slipped from her hands. Only a token sacrifice, only a temporary satiation of hunger.

She sat on a bundle of leaves and looked around. Tiny misshapen bodies circled her, unrecognizable animals already starting to rot, already sending out pungent invitations to the maggots and ants and worms and other scavengers.

She touched her wet cheeks, wet with blood, not with tears, primal blood that dripped from her jaws. She looked at her hands and began to clean them. Licking the waste away, she preened and fidgeted, aware of the compromising scene. The chirping birds had fled; a single crow that cawed out its song remained.

A short distance away a stream flowed. She slipped out of her tainted clothes and stood, naked. After she bathed she would burn her jeans and tank top. Always she kept a change of clothes in the car. Better to be discovered naked than slick with sin.

No path led to the stream, but her senses guided her. Within a few paces of the stream a breeze carried the coolness of the water. She relaxed into the cold swirling water.

The soles of her feet seemed padded, protected against the pebbles and stones underfoot. She squatted, then scooped up handfuls of water to bathe. Her thighs, still sticky with David's s.e.m.e.n, spread apart, allowing her to drip the cold water across her mons.

Tadpoles wriggled around her feet. Gritty pebbles sprouted between her toes. She bent over and lapped at the water, cleansing her mouth. Never would she be able to cleanse her soul. Her soul would forever be bound to the earth both spiritually and physically; she rotted and rejuvenated within the confines of this world. The love she made would always be spare, limited to urges for blood and death.

A song sounded above her head. An overreaching limb supported a swallow. The lilt of his tune seemed normal even while the blood colored the stream.

She increased the pace of her movements, wanting to be rid of her history. Wanting to make believe again.

She played at having a normal family. Often her uncle laughed at her and teased her, but always he protected her.

"If you didn't allow her to feed from animals, she would have to get over her ridiculous aversion to taking blood from living humans." Her grandmother made this statement to her uncle when she thought that Liliana could not hear.

Her uncle had taken away her humanity, but there existed a soupcon of guilt in his soul. His touch frequently reminded her of that. Guilt, however, never clouded her grandmother's soul. Instead, if it were not for Uncle Donatien, Grandmother would pull everyone's strings for an eternity.