Chapter Eleven

New York

“She was beautiful, Gregore. Positively beautiful,” I said, trying to keep still in my seat on the train back to Baltimore.

“I believe you,” he returned, though not as enthusiastically as I had hoped.

Poor Gregore. He tolerated my nonstop chatter, listening with the patience of a saint, but I suspected he had mixed feelings about my ordeal. And why shouldn’t he?

By coming into contact with Ersule as the reborn child Erin, I had wandered into a hornet’s nest of mixed emotions, coloring my rational thoughts. But I was sure he could be persuaded to relocate to New York after our short conversation earlier.

The night before, Gregore had wandered the quiet back streets of New York. Strolling past an alleyway, he heard music, lyrical melodies, reminiscent of our old days in Germany and France. Curious, he walked down the shadowy passageway, noting the music was coming from the basement of a large brick building. Dim light from a single small window illuminated the cobbled alley. Bending low to peer inside, he had felt a tap on his shoulder.

Turning toward Gregore I said, “We didn’t have time earlier. Tell me more about last night. I want to hear about this man Dominic you mentioned.”

Gregore’s gaze snapped to mine, his face brightening. “Dominic.” He tucked the magazine into the seat pocket, his gaze darting about, examining the seating arrangements of our fellow passengers.

He leaned in and whispered, “When I felt a firm tap on my shoulder, I was startled and spun around. Standing before me was a man.” A smile spread across Gregore’s face. “And not just an ordinary man, mind you.”

I smiled. Gregore had an animated quality about him, gesturing with his hands, his expressive brown eyes gleaming.

“The handsome man had brilliant white teeth that glowed in the night and skin as pale as the dead.” Gregore’s gaze narrowed. “He said that a private party was going on inside the building, and I could attend as his escort.”

“And did you?” I asked, though I had already heard this part of the story earlier.

“Well, of course I did. And Derek, you wouldn’t believe how many of our kind are in New York. The Others, as they’re called there, well, they’ve evolved — for the better — and they’re unlike the vicious groups in the old days when we had to defend our territory.”

I was intrigued. While I knew our kind resided in the United States, I dared not cross paths with them for fear of drawing attention.

“Do go on,” I said.

“There were dozens upon dozens of patrons in the cool basement establishment. Every variety you can imagine — they’re there. A bar, music, dancing, but most of all, the Others talked openly. I don’t know how Dominic knew I was a Were, but he did. He told me his kind had been there for centuries and had evolved within the confines of the city. He said we, too, could sharpen the same ‘skills’. They’ve developed protections we could only have imagined in our wildest dreams.”

“And did you believe him? Did you sense any danger with this Other?”

The idea of living among progressive “Others,” all while I was close to Ersule, made my heart soar with possibility.

Gregore pondered the question. “I believed him. Think back. Remember how we used to speak, how our language has changed, evolved, with the passage of time? How we’ve learned to blend within society to the best of our abilities? But we are far from perfect. Surely, it must be possible to learn how to adapt further — for our protection.”

“And you sense no concealed motives from this Other you speak of? Dominic, is it?”

“Yes, his name is Dominic. I sensed nothing like that with him.”

I had to agree with the philosophy. In our mortal body we were vulnerable and always at the mercy of our unpredictable inner beasts. Perhaps in New York, with the help of the Others and their protections, we, too, could find the safety and security we desperately craved.

“I truly believe New York has more to offer us than Baltimore,” said Gregore, “but … ”

“But?” I asked.

“But are you strong enough to make the move to New York with Ersule so close?”

I was so excited I could barely breathe. Having been in New York and seen for myself what the glorious city had to offer, the idea of moving there actually made sense. Gregore had his love of the arts; our kind could live there among mortals, and I had my own obvious reasons. I inhaled deeply and exhaled in jagged breaths. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

And that was the truth.

Later that night, I dreamed I was young lad of thirteen again, returning home with my younger brother, Hamlin, from a long day of hunting. The two of us were laughing as we ran toward home, our bags brimming with rabbit and pheasant. Having the spritely build of a ten-year old, Hamlin bounded forth ahead of me, eager to be the first to inform Mother of our successful hunt.

When I entered the door, Hamlin stood shaking uncontrollably in his boots, tears streaming down his face, and he had urinated in his trousers. Turning past his distressed gaze, I saw Mother lying on the dirt floor, her body covered in crimson from the waist down. Lying beside her and her blood soaked frock was her lifeless newborn baby boy, having arrived far too early.

Despite my anguish, I tried to sooth Hamlin, but nothing I said brought the boy comfort. Father had died in battle only two months earlier, sending my brother into hysterics for well over a month, and now Mother.

I swore at the screams forming deep within my throat, threatening to rip my heart to pieces. For Hamlin’s sake, I squelched my pain and despair, and covered the lifeless corpses with quilts.

After quieting my brother with a warm drink and tucking him into bed, I set out to dig a grave in the meadow to bury Mother and our dead baby brother. When I returned for the bodies, Hamlin was nowhere to be found.

I had searched for hours, and just as I was about to hunt for him at an abandoned farm, I spotted something floating in the lake. My heart stopped quiet in my chest with dread. I ran as fast as my feet would carry me, but I already knew what floated in the murky water ahead.

Hamlin lay face down. I rolled him over and hugged his motionless body with everything I had, my body shaking uncontrollably. As the amber sun began to set over the water and the threat of darkness crept into my veins, I howled like a beast. My anguish and terror intensified with the lengthening shadows, and my wild screams and mournful cries echoed across the still water.

How long I held him, I do not know, but it was under a full moon that I buried him next to Mother and the dead infant.

After the burial, I drank ale. I downed the warm drink until my belly was so full I nearly retched. But no matter how much I drank, the numbness I longed for eluded me. I shed mournful tears, sobbing so hard each heave burned my chest.

I fled the house and ran into the night, caring not where my leather shoes would take me. I sprinted through forests, up hills, across farms and meadows. I ran until I could go no further and dropped to the ground like a heavy sack of yams.

When I opened my eyes, light surrounded me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on the hazy image above me: A girl with shiny hair, black as a raven’s wing, stood above me, smiling, in a field of grain under the scorching midday sun.

* * * *

ONCE we arrived in New York, Gregore was eager to show me the alley establishment known as “The Blue Moon Lounge.” Ever since he had told me of the place, I couldn’t wait to see it for myself.

He gestured toward a dark alley. “It’s down here.”

The soft resonance of a mournful violin filled the damp, desolate passageway, beckoning me.

“This is where I met Dominic,” Gregore said. “Right here.”

A door opened, followed by footsteps heading up the darkened stairwell. Two women dressed in black passed us, laughing.

“Excuse me,” Gregore said. “Is Dominic inside?”

I sank into the shadows.

“Ah, yes, ye’ hear that music? That be him playing the violin,” the taller woman said with a thick Irish brogue.

“Let’s go.” Gregore grabbed my coat sleeve and led me down the stairwell. He knocked on the metal door.

The door opened. A swarthy, muscled fellow with a thick, gold hoop through his nose guarded the entrance. His face suddenly brightened. “Gregore, you’re back. Come in!” He opened the door wider and gestured for us to go inside, before closing the door with a heavy thud.

We stepped into a large, dimly-lit room, tastefully decorated in hues of deep maroon and black. Saturating the cool air, an earthy aroma mingled with the hazy curls of cigar and cigarette smoke. Dozens of patrons filled the plush conversational sofas and thickly upholstered chairs. Rows of glasses, goblets, and ashtrays sat on long tables in front of them. Dressed in only a sheer black gown accentuating her ample breasts, a female bartender poured cocktails at the well-stocked bar.

All eyes were cast upon the lone man with long black hair, sitting on a wooden stool at the center of the room. Playing a haunting tune on a violin under a single glowing spotlight, the man’s pale face appeared poised in concentration as his nimble fingers quivered against taut strings.

Gregore leaned in and whispered, “That’s Dominic.”

We sank into the couch cushions. Gregore offered me a cigarette. I accepted. A young black waiter with spiky white hair, dressed in a revealing outfit made of the same sheer black fabric worn by the barkeep, appeared before us.

“What can I get you gents tonight?”

I raised a finger. “I’ll have a whiskey and —”

“No, wait. Let me order for you,” Gregore said, with a wily grin.

“Well, hello, Gregore,” the waiter said, an impish glint in his dark eyes. “I didn’t recognize you sitting there in the shadows.”

“It’s Tallon, is that right?” asked Gregore, leaning closer to the flickering candelabra.

Even through his dark complexion, the waiter blushed. “Right you are,” he replied, singing the last word.

Gregore waggled his brows. “Tallon, get us both the house special.”

The whites of Tallon’s large eyes glowed. “Coming right up, sir.” He turned on his toes and headed toward the bar.

Dominic finished the haunting piece, and the spotlight above him abruptly went dark. Guests erupted with cheers and applause. I watched as he carefully set the bow and violin into a weathered leather case, then glanced at our table, making eye contact with Gregore.

Dominic snagged our waiter as he passed by and said something to him, before setting the case in the corner and walking toward our table.

“Gregore. Good to see you again,” said Dominic. “Is this the friend you mentioned?”

Dominic’s azure gaze swept over me. Immediately, I could see what Gregore had talked about. Indeed, the man was handsome and just as he had described.

Gregore announced, “Dominic Voltaire, this is Derek Rudliff.”

We shook hands, and Dominic took a seat across from us in the plush chair. “Rudliff. I feel I’ve heard this name before, long ago,” he said, cupping his square chin. “Where, I can’t remember.”

The waiter arrived with chilled sterling goblets. “This is on the house. Compliments of Dominic.”

Dominic dipped his head in a nod.

I took an ample swallow of the “house special” Gregore had ordered.

Both Dominic and Gregore watched as I tasted the cool liquid. The drink felt especially smooth against my tongue, the taste fruity, like a punch, but an earthy quality lingered that I couldn’t quite place.

“Am I missing something?” I asked, my gaze shifting between the two men, trying to decipher their impish grins.

“Good?” Dominic asked. “Hits the spot, doesn’t it?”

“Delicious.” I downed more and licked my lips. Frowning, I said, “I taste a mixture of … what is it?”

Gregore’s eyes darkened. “I wanted to tell you about it earlier, but I thought I would surprise you.”

The waiter approached and whispered into Dominic’s ear. Dominic rose. “Excuse me a moment, gentleman. I have a business matter I must tend to.”

Warmth slowly spread through my veins. “Surprise me with what?”

“The drink,” said Gregore. “It’s what we’ve been missing. It’s what we’ve been waiting for. It’s the key that opens the door so that we can live securely among mortals.”

I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. “Speak up, Gregore. What key? Stop with the riddles.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” He leaned in closer. “Look inside the goblet.”

I looked inside my silver chalice, but I still had no idea where Gregore was leading.

“The ingredients you taste — the mixture flowing in your veins right about now, warming you, is a potent combination of herbs: deadly nightshade, devil’s dung, and some others mixed with blood. Human blood.”

I would have imagined that drinking such a concoction in my human form might disgust me. It did not. In fact, the drink tasted better than anything I’d had in a very long time. Heat surged across my torso, slithering along my limbs, exciting me in ways I could not readily put into words.

Gregore laughed. “I know. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“I don’t understand. Enlighten me, Gregore. Why those particular herbs? Why human blood?”

“Years ago, these Others learned how to stop uncontrollable shifts, like during heated sex and uncontrollable rage.”

I pondered his words. “But you must admit, sometimes we don’t mind the shift during sex with our kind. Some say they prefer it.”

Gregore frowned. “And for those that wish to risk shifting, they can. The drink is not formulated for them. But it is made for us, Derek. This crazy concoction we’re drinking gives us free will to change when we choose. This drink would allow us to have sex with mortals — without fear of uncontrolled shifting and taking lives. Don’t you see? If we grow angry, hateful, frustrated, we can control it by the help of this drink. Lord knows I’ve gotten in trouble more times than I can count, and you remember what happened to Franz?”

I snorted. “Of course I remember.”

Flickers of candlelight danced in Gregore’s eyes. “It’s a magic potion. Protection for our kind.”

For our kind. I contemplated his words.

Gregore sighed. “Look, you’ve been a saint for far too long. You’ve resisted temptation more times than I can count — am I right? Do not forget, I have seen the many times you have turned down the fairer sex.”

I scoffed and waved my hand. “That’s been my choice, and you know why.”

“What I know is that you are a king who’s been granted a gift —”

“A gift?” I asked. “Have you lost your mind?”

Gregore scanned the room before turning his insistent gaze back to me. “Hear me out. Yes, a gift. A gift that will allow your beloved Ersule to rejoin you once again and very soon. Until then, you are a free Were with needs of his own.”

Gregore was right. I had enjoyed women, mortals and Weres alike, but only on rare occasions. Believing my piety was a noble gesture, my needs had gone unsatisfied on many lonely nights.

Silently, I took in his words while brooding over my goblet. I thought back to the frightening predicaments my pack had encountered over the centuries.

But a simple blood and herb concoction as a remedy?

It seemed too good to be true. I looked around at the diverse group of Others gathered, leading to more questions.

I leaned forward. “Nothing can avoid the lunar shift of the full moon — correct?”

Gregore nodded. “No, you’re right. No Were can be spared from the lunar pull, but we know when the full moon will occur. This allows us to control our environment rather than our surroundings controlling us. In fact, Dominic says the parties here are amazing and the punch flows from fabulous ice sculptures —”

“What about rage? We cannot predict when and where something might enrage us — what then? Without the drink, we could shift and then what?”

“Which is why this protective drink is so brilliant.” He drew closer. “They sell it here. You can actually buy it, take it home, even carry it with you in a flask.”

“Like a drug,” I said flatly.

“It is a drug, my King, a drug that will change our existence.”

I wouldn’t readily admit it, but my interest had piqued to a new high. “Where do they get the blood, and how long does it last in our bodies?”

“Oh, that.” He waved his fingers. “Connections in the morgue — easy if you know the right people. It’s fine as long as it’s fresh or kept frozen.”

“And the other part? How long does the effect last?”

Gregore sucked in his cheeks and his eyes widened. “Well, now that is much trickier to predict. Dominic says it usually lasts about twelve hours. But everyone is different, and you have to work with it a few times.”

“And how do you know when the effect has worn off?”

“That’s easy for a man.” He glanced at my crotch. “You won’t feel like you do right about now.”

The liquid snaked through my veins, satisfying me with hypnotic warmth, narrowing in on all my pleasure points.

Jesus.

Gregore reached for a bottle of Bacardi sitting on the table. He poured the rum into our goblets. Waggling his brows, he said, “The punch is even better with booze.” He held up his goblet. “To our new life.”

I hesitated a moment, then joined in the toast and poured the spiked drink down my gullet.

Dominic returned and took his seat. “I assume you told him.”

Gregore smiled. “Most of it.”

Dominic raised a jet-black brow. “Not everything?”

“Told me what?” I asked. Somehow, I didn’t care. All I knew was I felt alive.

A small band had set up where Dominic had played the violin. With the click of the drumsticks, the spotlight above them lit, and they began playing. With or without partners, patrons shot up from their seats and shook what they had to the rhythm.

A man with wide, pale green eyes and a large pointy nose strutted with a raven-haired female whose pale skin glowed like thin white parchment held above a flickering flame. A stout male dwarf wearing a flowing black cape danced with a spindly woman three times his height.

Gregore glared at me. “Fascinating to watch, aren’t they?”

I nodded. “I have the feeling there’s more variety than I ever imagined.”

Dominic tapped my wrist and gestured toward the pointy-nosed fellow I’d been watching moments earlier. “That’s Jasper. Watch him.”

Jasper moved and swayed in flowing form, raising and lowering his arms. As if on cue, he suddenly spun his head completely around.

“What the devil?” I muttered.

Dominic smiled and lit a cigarette. “He’s Raptor.”

Damn. He did look like a bird. I cast my gaze toward the pale woman Jasper danced with.

“And her?”

“Garden variety Vamp. I’ve known her for centuries.”

Gregore stood and stared down at me. “Come on — let’s dance.”

“I think I’ll sit tight.” I tapped the passing waiter. “I’ll have another.”

“Coming right up,” Tallon sang.

Dominic slid his hand over mine, smiling. “It’s very potent. Be careful until you know your dosage. And just so you know, it’s quite something when a mortal drinks of the powerful mix. You know that feeling you have drinking the cocktail? How it narrows in right to your cock? Mortals are sexually insatiable after drinking of the liquid and apparently quite fertile.”

I hadn’t thought about mortals imbibing the liquid. “Can they overdose on it?”

“Only if they’re lucky.” Gregore bit on his bottom lip and smiled like a scamp. “No, seriously. It’s not like that.”

Dominic rose from the chair. “Come on, Gregore, you can dance with me.”

Dominic snubbed out his cigarette and snapped his fingers to the beat before following Gregore to the dance floor. I tapped my toe to the rhythm, the heated beat pulsing through my veins.

Tallon set the chilled drink before me. “Mmm, look at you, starting on your second. Big plans tonight?”

I poured a hefty shot of rum into the goblet. “Not particularly.”

“You tellin’ me you’re going waste it. For shame!” He smiled wryly and walked away, swinging his thin hips.

The second drink went down my throat faster than the first. I was just about to light a cigarette when tawny fingers plucked it from my mouth. Before I had time to object, a wiry- haired brunette yanked me up by my hand, dragging me toward the dance floor.

The Others danced, fully immersed in the music, limbs flowing, hips swaying, asses rubbing and bumping against groins. The stiffness of conventional dance was clearly not an option at The Blue Moon Lounge. I spotted Dominic and Gregore dancing in the middle of the crowd.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked me.

“Derek. And yours?”

“Jessamine. You’re new here, aren’t you?”

I tried to loosen my muscles. “Is it that obvious?”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “Come on now, give me some grinding.”

I coughed. “Excuse me?”

She slipped behind me, rubbing her ample breasts slowly against my back, and then circling me while gazing through half-closed lids, like those of a purring cat.

“Like this,” she said, lifting her corkscrew hair above her shoulders. She turned and rubbed her firm ass against my pelvis, slowly at first, then faster, joining the rhythm of the steel drum.

My cock instantly stood at full attention.

She looked over her shoulder, smiling at me. “Just like that, honey. Now give me some sugar.”

Everyone danced, grinding away, and before I knew it, I was fully engaged. The blood cocktail had unlocked the reservations I’d placed upon myself so long ago, the deep fear of being discovered a Were among judgmental mortals. A sense of liberty flowed through my veins with each grind of her pulsating hips. I danced like I’d never danced before, sensual movements, entangled arms, pelvises mashing against each other until sweat dripped from every pore of my body.

Jessamine moved in closer and guided my hands on her swaying hips. Her gaze narrowed. “What are you?” she asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Are you Warlock, Were — perhaps a Vamp?” She tiled her chin, assessing me closely. “No, definitely not Vampire. Too much warmth to you, honey.”

“What are you?” I asked.

Her full lips curved seductively. She turned, grinding her muscular ass against my pelvis again. Dear God. I’d had about all I could take, or I’d explode for sure.

“What I am is yours for one night,” she said, turning to face me again.

Words eluded me.

“Come with me.” She grabbed my hand, and before I knew it, I was being led up a set of narrow interior steps.

I followed her through a long hallway on the top floor of the building, passing numbered apartments along each side.

She stopped, reached above a doorjamb, and retrieved a key.

“In here,” she whispered.

Jessamine unlocked the door and drew me by the sleeve inside a small, candlelit room. No sooner had the door closed, she slammed me up against the wall. She splayed her hands across my chest, her cinnamon face a mere inch from mine.

She brushed her lips across my neck and whispered, “I’ll give you what you crave. I’ll give you what you need.” A warm hand slid over my erect shaft.

Enough games. The potent blood cocktail flowing through my veins merged with my instinctual urge to slip my cock inside the willing female. I grabbed her ass in both hands and dug my fingertips into the enviable mounds.

Her teeth grazed my throat. I quickly unhooked my trousers, letting them fall in a pile to the floor. She unbuttoned my shirt, and I slid out of it faster than I ever thought possible. I glanced around the room. Her apartment, I presumed.

She kissed my bare chest, ran her hands across my shoulders. “You want this, Derek. You need this.”

Something in the tone of her voice made my desire for her grow tenfold. I searched her eyes. “What are you?”

Her long lashed lifted from her cheeks. “You shall see. Don’t be afraid.”

I carried her to the bed across the small room and lay on top of her. I slid my hands underneath her dress and inched my fingers up her bare thighs until I found her warm core. Moist, ready, and very willing.

I slid into her like a rabbit into a greased hole. I rode that woman like the Greek god Phaeton driving his father’s sun chariot across the sky, like almighty Zeus battling the Titans, grunting like a Neanderthal. I showed that woman no mercy, nor did she ask for any. My insides churned, muscles tightening, my body ready to explode like a violent eruption of Mount Vesuvius, and then …

I hoisted up on outstretched arms and looked into Jessamine’s face. She opened her eyes, and my heart stopped dead in my chest.

Lying beneath me was Ersule.

“Such an animal you are tonight,” she breathed in my wife’s sweet voice of long ago. She wrapped her legs firmly around my waist and grabbed my buttocks, pulling me in deeper.

God help me!

I had already crossed over the edge and could not pull out. I reared up, my face straining as I came inside her. “My God!” I choked out, “What did you say?”

With trembling fingers I smoothed the dark hair covering her brow and gazed into the familiar emerald green eyes. Stinging tears suddenly blinded me. I quickly rubbed the moisture away. “Ersule. Oh, my God in heaven. Ersule.” I hugged her and buried my face in her hair and neck, searching for the familiar scent.

“’Tis only you I love,” the voice said, trailing away.

But the sweet intoxicating scent of my beloved wife was not there.

And it never had been.

I rose up with balled fists and beat the bed, barely missing Jessamine’s face.

“Why?” I shouted. “Why did you do this to me? How in God’s name can you appear beneath my loins as my dead wife?” I rolled away and covered my face in my hands. “What are you — some evil God-damned witch?”

Glaring at me, Jessamine bolted from the bed, her feet hitting the floor with a mighty thud. “Ha! You’re angry with me?” She picked up a hairbrush and waved it at me. “It is you that beckoned her from within me.”

Had I lost my mind, gone stark raving mad like a lunatic straight from the depths of hell?

I shot up from the bed and paced the room, darting wildly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Was it the drink? Had I imagined it? Was it possible I had just made love to Ersule?

Jessamine stuck her bottom lip out and sank into the bed. I marched straight toward her and grabbed her shoulders. “Woman, you must give me answers. I will not leave here until you do so.”

Her face twisted. “What the hell do you expect of me?”

I tried to keep the rising anger from my voice, for Jessamine appeared as bewildered as I. “I will ask you this only once again before I grow irate. What. Are. You?”

She signed. “You men. You want your cake and to eat it, too.” She swatted my hand. “I’m a Mestaclocan.”

“What? What the hell is that?”

“A Mestaclocan? I’m a Changeling. Lord, don’t you know anything?”

She tugged at her skirts, smoothing out the thin fabric, clearly irritated by my interrogation.

“I’m like you, but I alter into whatever a person most desires. I thought I was helping by giving you what you desired more than anything in the world.”

The ache inside my chest swelled. I raked my hands through my damp hair and sighed heavily. “What the hell have I done?”

Pity softened Jessamine’s dark eyes. “Look. You’ve done nothing wrong. I saw you moping at the table, looking downright miserable, if you ask me. I thought we were doing each other a favor.”

I closed my eyes so tight they throbbed as I tried to recapture the sight of Ersule lying beneath me.

God. It had been her. I know it!

I could barely form the question. “Jessamine, is it possible that part of her was here — really here?”

She sighed and patted my arm. “If that’s what you wanted, then yes, it’s possible.”

My stomach twisted in knots so taut I thought I would vomit.

“Don’t pity yourself,” Jessamine said in a wistful tone. “Imagine what it’s like for me. Only once in my life was I the woman a man most desired in his heart during the heat of passion. Only once, and it was very long ago.”

I listened to Jessamine’s words, but I barely heard what she said. I dressed and opened the door. Upon hearing voices, I pressed against the door. A young couple approached, laughing, slipping into a nearby room and shutting the door behind them.

Thankfully, they had not detected my presence. Inebriated and coarse-natured, I had no desire to speak to anyone, nor did I wish to return to the boisterous crowd downstairs. I shook my head, trying to discern whether I were utterly drunk, fiercely ill, or completely insane. All I knew was I felt empty.

I exited the building, retrieved my horse and buggy, and headed toward the hotel. Listening to the steady beat of clomping hooves echoing through the quiet street, I took solace in the calm of darkness.

Following my senses, made keener by the cocktail, I lifted my chin and inhaled deeply. Ersule’s sweet scent filled the cool air, strong as ever. Her words to me at the park reverberated inside my skull. “I see you in my dreams. … I see you in my dreams. … I see you in my dreams.”

Such torturous words from a child!

I smacked the buggy whip, urging the horse to a faster clip. I slapped again and again. I tilted my nose higher, allowing her heady fragrance to blast into my nostrils. Before I knew it, I had seized the leather reins, turned hard, and nearly flipped the buggy in my haste to make the unexpected detour.

Dizzying determination flooded my mind. Even if I were courting my own disaster, I would not be derailed from what beckoned me.

I approached the block where I knew the little girl known as Erin resided. I tethered my horse, lowered the brim of my hat, and walked quickly around the corner. I closed my eyes, letting the aroma stream into my head, begging for the answer I desperately craved. I inhaled again, still haunted by her words to me at the park.

Her scent led me to a simple, brick row home. A white rocking chair next to a potted bush adorned the small covered porch. I slowly stepped up to the darkened entrance and sat on the brick steps. I bent over and planted my face in my hands.

God help me.

What had I unleashed? All this time, I had resisted the temptation to seek Erin. But with the awakening of Ersule tonight, even if only fabricated within my tormented, drunken mind, her scent drew me in like sweet honey to a bee. I couldn’t turn back even if I wanted to.

I’m here. Now what?

I rubbed my whiskered chin and swore under my breath. Lord. I knew exactly where she laid sleeping. Only a small barrier of mortared brick separated us.

I stood, and the moment I touched my fingers to the brick wall, my hand quivered. I could feel her sleeping only feet away; hear her serene, slumbering breaths resonating like the harp of an angel. I stepped back and slammed balled fists to my ears to silence the sweet sounds, threatening my sanity.

But it was within my own head the haunting noises originated.

I marched to the side window, only feet away. Peering in, my warm breath instantly fogged the pane. I wiped the vapor with my sleeve and gazed through the glass. My chest tightened. Before me, Erin lay sleeping, tucked in her bedding surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight.

Gripping knots of guilt seized my belly. I leaned over, struggling for breath. I needed to know that my long years of waiting had meaning — had purpose. If only I had a sign. One small signal and I could wait forever. But slipping inside the bedroom of a sleeping child? Lunacy!

Facing heavenward, I closed my eyes, begging that her window would be locked tight, sealed away from my madness.

It was not.

Ever so gently, I inched the window open. I slipped one leg inside, then my head and torso, followed by the other leg. Lest she wake from the chill, I quietly closed the window.

The pale walls topped with a paisley border narrowed the moment I intruded. She was lying in a small bed among lightly-colored quilts and pastel pillows. On her night table sat a pitcher and an empty glass, along with two books, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Kinder- und Hausmärchen, authored by the Brothers Grimm.

Dear Lord, did she read German?

I sat in the corner chair staring at her beautiful sleeping form, inhaling her sweet scent. I watched as her small fingers twitched in her sleep, as her eyes moved slowly beneath soft lids framed by lashes of black lace. I stared, mesmerized by the sound of her rhythmical breathing, watching the gentle movement of her small chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber. She licked her rosy lips and rolled to her side, toward me.

My breath seized in my chest. Get out now!

I placed my hands upon the chair arm to rise — to slip out silently — when she mumbled. I froze in place, my body perched in the chair like a giant gargoyle.

“I knew it,” she murmured.

What does she know?

“I knew it,” she repeated, dreamily.

My heart hammered against my chest, and the tall ceiling closed in above my head, threatening to squeeze the life out of me. Slowly, cautiously, I rose up, tiptoed back to the window, and inched the frame open.

Light suddenly filled the small space below her shut door, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Christ!

I scrambled so quickly my shoe hit the windowsill. I hurled the rest of my body through the open window and landed with a heavy thud below. I shot up to my feet and pressed my fingers to the glass to lower the window. That’s when I heard her sweet voice say, “Come back to me. Come back to me, Derek.”