The Vampire's Assistant

Chapter Nineteen

The next day I woke feeling like total hell. I groaned as I sat up, my eyes squinting against the harsh rays of morning light streaming through my window. My muscles screamed in protest as I stretched my limbs and swung out of bed. There was no way I was going to work.

I scanned the room for my cell phone, realized it was still in my purse, and shuffled across the room to retrieve it. Turning the screen on, my eyes went wide at the notifications. There were more than twenty missed calls and messages, all from Pam. I rubbed my temple and dialed my voicemail. The first message played.

"Call me." She did not sound happy, not that she ever really did. I hit 'delete' and listened to the next message.

"What happened?" She was exasperated, bordering on panicked.

"Pick up your goddamn phone. We need to talk."

"I'm starting to feel like a jilted lover. Call me."

Message after message played, repeating variations of the same sentiment, until finally, "Eric is losing his mind. He's asking all sorts of questions. Abby, I have to tell him."

I put down the phone and lay my head in my hands. Naturally, this was the logical course of events after my ridiculous display last night. I could only imagine the fallout to come once the sun set.

Shaking my head clear of those daunting thoughts, I called work and begged out for the day. Philip was understanding, if not entirely pleased. I was sure that I wasn't the only one calling out after last night's festivities, though I, for one, could honestly claim that it was not due to a hangover.

Fulfilling my serious need for rest and relaxation, I took a long hot shower, ate lunch outside on the porch, read a good book, and took a nap. By the time the sky began to darken, I felt back to my usual self, the previous night's events not as heavy on my mind. But I knew that wouldn't last. I changed into a fresh dress and went out onto the balcony as the sun set.

The last rays were fading on the horizon when I felt an old, familiar spark ignite at the base of my skull. Eric. The connection I'd not felt for so long revved to life again as if it had never stopped. He was awake and he was very, very close.

My heart raced and my eyes scanned the darkness. I could feel him drawing nearer. It seemed like the bond was stronger, or maybe I was just more sensitive to it now.

"I know you're here," I spoke to the air, unable to bear the anxiety any longer.

Eric stepped around the corner of the house and I instantly knew he'd been here all day, probably in Pam's basement sleeping chamber. He wore the same clothes from the night before, though his suit coat was missing. His shirt and pants were wrinkled, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

I watched him approach me, the old slat boards creaking under his weight. He stopped a few feet from where I sat in a wicker rocking chair and met my eyes. The depth of emotion in those deep blue orbs almost made me burst into tears. An aching sadness like I'd never felt from him, even on that fateful night four months ago, poured from his eyes, flooded our bond, and rendered me completely speechless.

I couldn't say how long we stayed that way, speaking volumes without words. But eventually, Eric's eyes dipped to my stomach and he asked lowly, "May I?"

I didn't respond, but gave no sign of reluctance either. He sank to his knees before me and gently placed a hand on either side of my belly. The baby moved inside me, but it was when it kicked, its foot landing squarely against Eric's right hand that his eyes snapped to mine.

Choked and desperate, as if he would break to pieces at any moment, he asked, "Mine?"

Had Pam not told him after all? Did she hold out, saving the honor for me? I was struck by sudden indecision. The chance might still be there to carry on with my plan. With one word I could steer him away from the difficult future that surely lay before us. But looking at his face, I knew that one word would also destroy him. Could I do it? Could I lie to his face to save him? Would he even believe me, after all he'd seen?