Kerrelyn Sparks - Vampire Mine

She had to be in pain, and yet her song sounded so joyful. It made him ashamed for all the years he’d spent grumbling and rueful. But how was he to feel when he’d lost the only woman he ever loved, and that love had driven him to destroy his own soul?

He jerked when something warm touched his cheek, something feather soft. He looked about, but saw nothing. Wait, over there, a glimpse of movement, something sheer and white in the wind. It rushed past him, then faded to nothing.

A tinkling sound like wind chimes floated through the air, in and out of his hearing, and he strained to listen. Yes, there it was. He couldn’t tell if it was bells or harps or perhaps both, but he’d never heard anything so enchanting. So peaceful, as if his wandering soul had finally returned home.

Then the voices began. Male and female. Perfect in pitch and harmony, singing the same melody as Marielle. And beneath it all, he could hear and sense a low, steady vibration that stirred the air. Constant like a heartbeat. The beating of angel wings.

He closed his eyes, feeling like a lowly sinner who had accidentally stumbled upon something sacred, something no human was ever meant to see. But he couldn’t close his ears. The voices continued, so achingly sweet, he never wanted it to end.

More wisps of movement brushed across his face, and each time it happened, a small burst of joy would warm his heart. He opened his eyes and stepped toward Marielle. His body tingled as the warm wind enveloped him. His heart matched the rhythm of the wings beating the air. Such joy and peace—it was addictive. Bright green grass sprouted in the circle of wind, and he felt an overwhelming urge to lift his arms to the heavens like Marielle.

Before he could move, a flare of light stunned him. He blinked, trying to stay focused on her. She’d stopped singing and stood frozen, surrounded by a bright light. It flashed with an intensity that forced him to shut his eyes.

“Thank you,” Marielle whispered. “The Lord is good.”

He opened his eyes as the light dissipated. Her back was completely healed. No marks or bloodstains, just her white glowing skin. Even her hair was clean and shiny gold.

The wind grew stronger again, and he could feel the whirling cyclone moving upward. The voices faded away.

“No!” Marielle cried. “Don’t leave me!”

Her hands appeared to grasp something that Connor couldn’t see, then to his amazement, her body rose off the ground. She wasn’t levitating, he realized. Rather, she was being lifted by whatever she was holding.

“Please.” Her voice trembled with emotion. “Take me with you.”

Was she returning to heaven? Was she forgiven? Connor’s heart raced as he watched her body rise higher and higher. Four feet off the ground. Six feet. Was there hope for those who had fallen short?

Was there hope for him?

“No! ” Marielle screamed as her hold was broken. She fell to the ground, and with a final whoosh, the wind was gone.

All was quiet except for the sound of her weeping. The air grew chilly again.

Connor felt his whole body sag. He should have known there was no hope. No forgiveness for the likes of him.

But Marielle—dammit, she was different. Her heart was pure. She still believed God was good. It made his heart ache to listen to her tears.

He walked to where she was huddled on the ground, leaning forward on her elbows, her shoulders shaking. “Are ye all right?” He winced at the stupid question.

“They left me behind,” she cried. “I’m all alone.”

“Nay, lass.” He fell to his knees, then picked the sheet off the grass and draped it over her back. “Ye’re no’ alone.”

She turned her head to peek at him. Her cheek glistened with tears. “Did you hear them? Did you hear the music?”

“Aye.”

She sat up, and the sheet slipped off her back. “Then you know how beautiful it is.”

“Aye.” He hastily wrapped the sheet around her.

She continued, oblivious to his roving eyes. “And now you understand why I need to go back. It’s where I belong.”

He tied the ends of the sheet over her right shoulder. “I couldna really see them, but I heard them. And felt them in the wind.”

She nodded. “The Heavenly Host. I’ve always been with them, since the moment of my creation. Their music is always in my head. We’re all connected, always sharing our thoughts and praise.”

“Always?” He grimaced. “Ye doona tire of the con-stant noise?”

“Noise?” She gave him an indignant look. “You’re calling our music noise?”

“It was beautiful,” he conceded, then drew a deep breath. “ ’Twas the loveliest sound I’ve ever heard. I’ve never felt so full of joy and peace.”

She smiled. “Then you do understand.”

He shook his head. “ ’Twas no’ real.”

“Of course it was real. You felt it.”

“It was . . . alluring, but it canna be. I live in this world where we canna escape death and suffering. Besides, I wouldna want the constant voices in my mind. Nor would I want anyone else to hear my thoughts. I need my privacy.”

She looked at him, stunned. “You prefer to be all alone? You’d rather suffer than be at peace?”

“I prefer to be myself.”

She touched his chest. “Even with the pain you carry?”

He scooted back, out of her reach. “At least it is my own.”

Frowning, she rose to her feet. “I never realized before how frightening and lonely it is to be human. How do you bear it?”

He shrugged and stood. “Some rely on faith.”

“What do you rely on, Connor Buchanan?”

He winced. “I’m no’ a good person to ask. I just keep going . . . out of stubbornness.”

Her mouth tilted with a smile. “Then I shall be stubborn, too.” She shivered, then shifted her gaze to the stars. “I will find my way back. And I will count my blessings, for the Lord is good.”

Connor stifled his snort, but she still glanced at him as if she could sense his doubt.

“The Lord is good,” she insisted, “for I have been sent a fierce protector.”

He almost looked over his shoulder to see who she was referring to. It was laughable to consider him a “fierce protector.” He’d failed his wife and bairn. He’d failed Shanna.

“And the Lord let Bunny heal me,” she continued with a smile.

He blinked. “Ye were healed by a rabbit?”

She laughed, the sound like the tinkling of wind chimes. “Bunny is a nickname for Buniel. We’ve been best friends for ages. He’s an excellent healer.”

“He?” Her best friend was male? And a perfect angel, too. Bugger.

Her smile faded. “Bunny wanted to take me with him, but . . . he couldn’t.”

Connor’s jaw shifted. “I wouldna have let you go.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. She stared at him, speechless, while he fought to keep his desire from showing. Time stretched out, and the air felt thick between them. He balled his fists to keep from touching her, from drawing her into his arms.

Her gaze drifted down his body, then back up. His heartbeat quickened. He looked at her mouth, wondering if she could possibly react like a real woman. Could she be aware he was studying the pink plumpness of her mouth?

She licked her lips.

Yes. He smiled slowly.

Her cheeks blushed a pretty pink, and she turned away. “A mouse just died,” she said in a breathless voice.

“Excuse me?”

“A mouse has died. Carried off by an owl.”

He strained his eyes, but couldn’t see an owl in the night sky. “Where?”

“About thirty miles away.” She gazed at the forest with a pensive look. “Not all my powers are gone. I can still sense death.”

“Ye know when something’s dying? How far can ye sense it?”