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𝔈𝔭𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔡𝔢 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱✔️

Andy felt his flesh creep at the words.

  "You don't mean that," he said shakily. He remembered what he had seen on the roof, the blood smeared on Rye's lips, and he forced himself not to recoil from him. "Rye, I know you. You couldn't have done that..."

  He ignored his protestations, just went on staring with eyes that burned like the green ice at the bottom of a glacier. He was looking through him, into some incomprehensible distance. "As I lay in bed that night, I hoped against hope that he would come. Already I was noticing some of the changes in myself. I could see better in the dark; it seemed I could hear better. I felt stronger than ever before, full of some elemental energy. And I was hungry.

  "It was a hunger I had never imagined. At dinner I found that ordinary food and drink did nothing to satisfy it. I couldn't understand that. And then I saw the white neck of one of the serving girls, and I knew why." He drew a long breath, his eyes dark and tortured. "That night, I resisted the need, though it took all my will. I was thinking of Harry, and praying he would come to me. Praying!" He gave a short laugh. "If a creature like me can pray."

Andy's fingers were numb within his grasp, but he tried to tighten them, to send him reassurance. "Go on, Rye."

  He had no trouble speaking now. He seemed almost to have forgotten his presence, as if he were telling this story to himself.

  "The next morning the need was stronger. It was as if my own veins were dry and cracked, desperate for moisture. I knew that I couldn't stand it for long.

  "I went to Harry's chambers. I meant to ask him, to plead with him—" His voice cracked. He paused and then went on. "But Robbie was there already, waiting outside his rooms. I could see that he hadn't resisted the need. The glow of his skin, the spring in his step, told me that. He looked as smug as the cat who's had the cream.

  "But he hadn't had Harry. 'Knock all you like,' he said to me, 'but the female dragon inside won't let you past. I've tried already. Shall we overpower her, you and I?'

  "I wouldn't answer him. The look on his face, that sly, self-satisfied look, repelled me. I pounded on that door to wake..." He faltered, and then gave another humorless laugh. "I was going to say, 'to wake the dead.' But the dead aren't so hard to wake after all, are they?" After a moment, he went on.

  "The maid, Gudren, opened the door. She had a face like a flat white plate, and eyes like black glass. I asked her if I could see him. I expected to be told that Harry was asleep, but instead Gudren just looked at me, then at Robbie over my shoulder.

"he went outside early this morning."

  "I was surprised. 'Early this morning?' I said.

  " 'Yes,' she replied. She looked at both Robbie and me without liking. 'My mistress was very unhappy last night,' she said meaningfully. 'All night long, he wept.'

  "When she said that, a strange feeling came over me. It wasn't just shame and grief that Harry should be so unhappy. It was fear. I forgot my hunger and weakness. I even forgot my enmity for Robbie. I was filled with haste and a great driving urgency. I turned to Robbie and told him that we had to find Harry, and to my surprise he just nodded.

  "We began to search the gardens, calling Harry's name. I remember just what everything looked like that day. The sun was shining on the high cypress trees and the pines in the garden. Robbie and I hurried between them, moving more and more quickly, and calling. We kept calling him..."

Andy could feel the tremors in Rye's body, communicated to him through his tightly gripping fingers. He was breathing rapidly but shallowly.

  "We had almost reached the end of the gardens when I remembered a place that Harry had loved. It was a little way out onto the grounds, a low wall beside a lemon tree. I started there, shouting for him. But as I got closer, I stopped shouting. I felt... a fear—a terrible premonition. And I knew I mustn't—mustn't go—"