Page 103 of Life and Death

“It’s a hard life,” she said, and there was a forlorn note in her tone. “But you didn’t tell me.”

“I was wishing I could know whatyouwere thinking. . . .”

“And?”

“I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. I’m afraid. . . .”

“I don’t want you to be afraid.” Her voice was just a low murmur. We both heard what she hadn’t said—that I didn’t need to be afraid, that there was nothing to fear.

“That’s not the kind of fear I meant.”

So quickly that I missed the movement completely, she was half-sitting, propped up on her right arm, her left palm still in my hands. Her angel’s face was only a few inches from mine. I should have leaned away. I was supposed to be careful.

Her honey eyes burned.

“Then what are you afraid of?” she whispered.

I couldn’t answer. I smelled her sweet, cool breath in my face, like I had just the one time before. Unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.

And she was gone, her hand ripped from mine so fast that they stung. In the time it took my eyes to focus, she was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, deep in the shade of a huge fir tree. She stared at me, eyes dark in the shadows, her expression unreadable.

I could feel the shock on my face, and my hands burned.

“Edythe. I’m . . . sorry.” My voice was just a whisper, but I knew she could hear me.

“Give me a moment,” she called, just loud enough for my less sensitive ears.

I sat very still.

After ten very long seconds, she walked back, slowly for her. She stopped when she was still several feet away and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing her legs underneath her. Her eyes never left mine. She took two deep breaths, then smiled apologetically.

“I am so very sorry.” She hesitated. “Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?”

I nodded, not quite able to smile at her joke. Adrenaline pushed through my system as I realized what had almost happened. She could smell that from where she sat. Her smile turned mocking.

“I’m the world’s best predator, aren’t I? Everything about me invites you in—my voice, my face, even mysmell. As if I needed any of that!”

Suddenly she was just a blur. I blinked and she’d vanished; then she was standing beneath the same tree as before, having circled the entire meadow in a fraction of a second.

“As if you could outrun me,” she said bitterly.

She leaped a dozen feet straight up, grabbing a two-foot-thick branch and wrenching it away from the trunk without any sign of effort. She was back on the ground in the same instant, balancing the huge, gnarled lance in one hand for just a second. Then with blinding speed she swung it—one-handed—like a bat at the tree she’d ripped it from.

With an explosive boom, both the branch and the tree shattered in half.

Before I even had time to shy away from the detonation, before the tree could even fall to the ground, she was right in front of me again, just two feet away, still as a sculpture.

“As if you could fight me off,” she said gently. Behind her, the sound of the tree crashing to the earth echoed through the forest.

I’d never seen her so completely freed of her careful human façade. She’d never been less human . . . or more beautiful. I couldn’t move, like a bird trapped by the eyes of a snake.

Her eyes seemed to glow with excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. Her expression slowly folded into a mask of sadness. She looked like she was about to cry, and I struggled up to my knees, one hand reaching toward her.

She held out her hand, cautioning me. “Wait.”

I froze again.

She took one step toward me. “Don’t be afraid,” she murmured, and her velvet voice was unintentionally seductive. “I promise . . .” She hesitated. “IswearI will not hurt you.” She seemed like she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince me.