Immortal Mine (27 page)

The shadows deepen as time passes—how much
time I don’t know. It feels like an eternity. Exhaustion drags at
me. Collapsed against the wall in the corner, I long for sleep to
take me from this new, horrifying reality I couldn’t have imagined
in the furthest recesses of my mind. But my mind won’t let me rest.
Where did I go wrong? Were there warning signs that I missed? I go
back over the time I’ve known Sam, trying to maintain a clinical
distance, to look at everything objectively.

At times he acted oddly, or looked at me
with something deeper than whatever he said, but at no time did I
think him depressed. Sam was innately happy and cheerful whenever
we were together. Maybe that was a cover.

My mind goes to Shane. Did Shane know
something? He didn’t seem too happy when Sam told him we were
going—

My heart stutters. Did Sam tell him where he
was bringing me? I try to remember the exact conversation.

“
We’re going now,” Sam had said.

“
I don’t think this is the right way to—”
Shane sounded troubled.

“
I know what I’m doing.” Sam was firm.
“There isn’t any other way.”

I search my mind, trying to discover if I
missed some essential part of the conversation. I remember thinking
it was a little strange, but I’ve gotten used to feeling like I’m
out of the loop with half the conversations going on between Sam
and Shane... and even Jean.

With trepidation, I crawl back over to where
Sam lays. I notice with a small measure of relief that his eyes are
now closed. I didn’t know that happened naturally, but I’m grateful
that I don’t have to see his eyes open and staring.

Emotionally drained, I sit next to him, and
slip my hand into his, wishing desperately for that strange heat to
begin. His hand is warm and limp, and idly I wonder why. I thought
that when someone was... well, I expected him to be cold, stiff.
Numbly, I feel the tears slipping down my cheeks again. Exhaustion
weighs on every inch of my body, my mind refusing to accept that
he’s gone.

After some time, when the reflection of the
sunset lights the sky outside the window with an ethereal pink, I
begin to hallucinate. I imagine Sam’s hand warming in mine into the
familiar heat, the sounds of his light breaths, tiny, gasping. I
scrunch my eyes closed, and imagine his hand moving slightly in
mine.
Please, stop.
My mind refuses to let me go as the heat
intensifies. I know that letting go will end the illusion, but I
can’t. I keep his hand clasped firmly in mine, feeling the phantom
tightening, ever so slight, of his hand on mine. A rustling sound,
as if Sam had moved his leg, comes into my mind and the grief rears
up again.

“Sam,” I whisper. A deep gasp of breath
startles me into opening my eyes, my gaze flying to Sam. His eyes
are open again. But not just open—moving. His hand clenches weakly
against mine and in terror I tear my hand from his, reeling away
from him. He turns his head and looks at me, my heart thudding in
fear.

“Nee—” The sound, the beginning of my name,
issues from his mouth and a half-scream on my huffed breath escapes
as I push further away from him, my feet propelling my sitting body
across the carpet, my legs lacking the strength to stand.

He rolls to his side, grimacing in pain, and
suddenly I realize—I was wrong! He wasn’t dead as I’d thought, just
unconscious. Relief rushes through me, intense and powerful, unlike
anything I’ve ever experienced, mingled with guilt over my inaction
to help him before now.

“Sam,” I enthuse, voice raw, crawling
quickly back over to his side, helping him into a sitting position
as tears begin anew, this time tears of joy. “Sam, you’re alive! I
thought... It doesn’t matter. You’re alive.”

I throw my arms around him, aware that this
could be nothing more than an extension of my delusion, that
there’s a possibility I’ve completely lost touch with reality. I
don’t care though, as his arms come up around me, pulling me
close.

“I love you, Sam, I love you. You’re not
dead. Thank you, God. Thank you.” I know I’m gushing, unable to
stop myself in spite of the soreness of my throat. I kiss his
cheeks, his neck, his forehead until finally he captures my face
and pulls my mouth to his. I may be hallucinating, but if I am this
kiss is as real as any he’s given me before—maybe more so.

“You’re not angry?” he asks, hands cupping
both my cheeks as he pulls back to look at me.

“Angry?” I ask incredulously. “How can I be
angry
that you’re not—” I stop, as if someone has thrown a
switch cutting off my speaking ability as his words sink in, and
memory rushes back. Sam, with the gun...

“You killed yourself,” I accuse as I push
away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Not,
Of course I
didn’t, I’m sitting here just fine—
which brings immediately to
mind the fact that he shouldn’t be sitting here, just fine. His
blood soaked shirt is clear evidence of that. I scoot further away
as a new kind of fear shoots into my heart.

“How can you be... I
saw
you. You
shot yourself, and you were...”

“Niahm,” he says, holding his hands toward
me—trying to calm the insane person, I think cynically. “Please,
let me explain.”

“Explain what?” I explode, voice cracking
from the stress of my previous screaming, rising to my feet in one
smooth motion. “Explain what, Sam? Explain why you shot yourself?
Explain how you could be lying there, looking dead, and now
you’re...” My eyes drop to his chest, to the place I saw him put
the gun barrel. “How did you stop bleeding?” I whisper.

Sam pulls the front of his shirt up, and I
reach out a hand as if to stop the motion, unable to tear my eyes
from the sight of his blood covered but clearly unwounded
chest—other than the angry red circle surrounded by a purpling
splotch.

“Was this some kind of trick?” I demand,
fury coming up to replace the fear. “Is this your idea of a
joke
?”

“No, Niahm, of course not,” he answers
quickly. “I would never do something so—”

“Don’t!” I exclaim as he begins to stand. He
freezes, and sinks back down to his sitting position.

“Niahm, please, let me explain.”

“I want to go home,” I demand, ignoring the
undertone of begging.

“I wanted to
show
you,” he pleads. “I
knew you wouldn’t believe me if I just told you.”

“Told me what? No, wait, I don’t want to
know. I just want to go home.”

“Niahm, I—”

“Stop!” I yell as he begins to rise once
again. He holds his hands up in supplication as he continues to
stand.

“I’m getting the key for you,” he says
softly, his eyes beseeching me. I look away from them, refusing to
give into the love and desperation I see there. He takes a step and
I smash myself back against the door.

“Niahm, you needed to know what I am,” he
says as he stumbles toward the head of the bed. “I want to be with
you...
stay
with you as long as you’ll let me.” He puts one
hand on the wooden cap of the headboard. “Which for me means
forever.”

He watches me closely, and his words
penetrate through the terror and rage that grip me.

“What?” I finally say. “What are you
saying?”

“I’m an immortal,” he says, and I burst out
laughing. The sound is maniacal, lacking any humor, leading me to
believe that this whole thing might be nothing more than the most
vivid of delusions, or dreams, or... something. His face falls at
my laughter.

“And I’m the tooth fairy,” I gasp. He takes
a step toward me and my laughter dies immediately. “No,” I command,
“don’t come any closer. Don’t you ever come near me again.”

Pain shoots through his eyes, but I refuse
to give in to his agony. He turns away, and with a violent wrench
he pulls the cap from the bed post. I look around frantically for a
weapon, but he simply turns back and pushes his fingers inside the
hollow wood. When they come out, a key is clasped between his first
two fingers.

“Niahm, please, I—”

“The key,” I interrupt wildly. “Give it
here.”

His face drops, and he tosses me the key.
Unprepared for him to actually give it to me, it hits the wall and
falls to the floor. Keeping my eyes on him, I stoop, feeling around
until my fingers touch it. As I stand and fumble to get it into the
keyhole with my shaking hands, he puts his own hand into his pocket
and I freeze, panic causing me to drop it once again. I know his
pockets are empty, I checked them all myself, but that doesn’t stop
the alarm that he’s somehow hidden something there that I didn’t
find, something that will hurt me.

He pulls his hand out, and I see the truck
key in his hand. I don’t even recall placing it back in his pocket.
He tosses that to me, and better prepared, I catch it.

“You can go,” he says. “I’m not going to
hurt you. I would
never
hurt you. You know that.”

I
thought
I knew that, but now I know
differently. I don’t tell him that, though, stooping and quickly
snatching up the room key once again. I turn my eyes away from him
long enough to fit the key into the lock. With a turn, the bolt
snaps open and I’m able to open the door.

Dusk’s fading light seems bright as I back
out of the room, keeping my eyes on him as he watches me with
sorrow lining his body. I pull the door shut, wondering if I’m
locking him in. Distractedly, I decide I’ll let Shane know. I run
to the truck, stumbling in my haste. The door opens easily and I
climb in, slamming my hand down on the automatic lock button. I jam
the key into the ignition, missing the first time because of the
violent shaking of my hand, and the engine turns over. I heave out
a sigh. I suppose I thought he might have done something to the
truck to keep it from starting. In my haste, I pull the shifter
beyond reverse into neutral, and have to push it back. I stomp on
the gas pedal, not waiting for the truck to come to a complete stop
before pulling the shifter into drive and peeling out in the loose
gravel that litters the parking lot. I glance in the rear view
mirror. Nothing moves at the motel as I pull away, dread filling my
heart as I watch it fade in the distance.

I’d forgotten how much it hurts to get shot.
If I’d remembered, I would have chosen a different method to get my
point across. I would have chosen something quicker to recover
from, having seen the abject terror and profound grief that Niahm
suffered while I recovered when she held my hand. I could have
spared her some of that.

I couldn’t have spared her the rage she now
felt.

I wad the bloody shirt up, pulling a clean
one from the top of the closet where we keep an emergency stash of
clothing. Odd that in her tearing the room apart, Niahm had missed
this. I walk into the bathroom and catch sight of myself in the
mirror. Blood stains my chest and belly, splattered across my jaw,
dark and flaking.

“
Bloody eejit
,” I curse myself,
rinsing the white towel that’s also stained with blood until it’s
mostly clean then use it to clean myself up as best I can. I pull
the clean shirt on and stare at my pale face. Self-recrimination
stares back at me, and well deserved at that. I’m still weak, will
be for a day or two while my body replenishes the blood it lost. I
walk back into the room, and pull the secondary key from the cap of
the footboard, letting myself out of the room.

It’s not likely I’ll make it back to town in
my weakened state. I drop to the bench that rests near the doorway,
dropping my head into my hands. We’ll have to go now, leave Goshen
before Niahm starts spreading the rumor, before the Sentinels get
wind of it themselves. We’ll have to erase every sign of having
been there, to protect Niahm and the rest of the town. Jean will
have to go also. She can’t be discovered here, living with
Niahm.

I groan at the mess I’ve created by my
stupidity. I should have told her, given her some kind of
forewarning at least about what I was going to do. I laugh
cynically at the thought. That would have simply sent her running
sooner.

Niahm
.

Her name comes unbidden into my mind, a
shaft of pain like lightening striking my heart with it. How will I
go on without her? Even now, the pull to get up and go to her is so
strong I can barely resist.

Time, which has very little meaning to me
anymore, passes slowly. The shadows haven’t grown all that much
when I hear a vehicle coming toward the motel. Warily, I sit up.
It’s rare for any cars to come this way, since the road isn’t used
anymore, and has fallen into extreme disrepair. Nonetheless, I need
to get back to town quickly, try to stop some of the damage if
possible, which means I need to flag this car down.