Blood From a Stone Page 17

  He shook his head. “No. I can’t read your mind. And yeah, it happened before. But only once for a split second. I don’t know what it is any more than you do.“

  She stared at him, skeptically, weighing his words. “Listen,” he said in a voice that would brook no argument. “I can’t read your mind Willow. Anymore than you can read mine right now……or any more than you could read mine even when you felt my soul. It’s more like a very strong impression. It’s hard to describe, but it’s not telepathy. You felt it, so you should know that. Yeah…you could tell what I’m feeling and yes you can pick up some distant impressions of thought. But it’s not the same thing as being able to read everything someone thinks in a given moment. It’s more…vague.“

  Her brows knit together and he could tell what she was thinking.

  “And if you’re wondering if I can influence your thoughts, or anyone else’s for that matter? No. I can’t do that either.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her response.

  He wanted to tell her that when Harold had tasted his blood that he could see Harold’s entire life flash before his eyes, and possibly vice versa since Harold seemed to know much more about him than he was comfortable with….but he figured that must have something to do with the blood. She had felt his soul alright, but it was much more vague. As for what happened with Harold, apparently she hadn’t detected it…at least not enough to know exactly what he was hiding, and it wasn’t something he felt could disclose right now as he struggled to regain her trust.

  She nodded and swallowed hard. “I guess you’re right. It’s just…I have to digest all this. But at least I know you’re not lying about how you feel about me. And I guess it’s all out on the table now how I feel about you too, right? I can’t play cat and mouse even if I wanted to…or needed to. No mystery. No safety net.” She forced a smile and shook her head.

  He took her hand in his own. “It’s okay. You don’t have to play games with me. It’s alright to care.”

  She smiled and laughed sarcastically. “I sort of learned where that got me with my last boyfriend. I just kind of figured if I don’t allow myself to feel too much, or to lay all my cards on the table, then it won’t hurt so much when I get dumped, you know?” Her eyes welled up and sheangrily swiped away the moisture from her eyes.

  “So now we get to the root of why you’d go to bed with me when you aren’t ready to. You’re afraid.that if you don’t, I‘ll lose interest or go looking somewhere else.”

  She looked him squarely in the eye and raised her chin in defiance. “I’m not afraid.”

  He smiled smugly and grabbed his wineglass gulping down the remainder of the dark red liquid that sat in the bottom. “Okay. If you say so.”

  “And so what if I am?” she shot back. “It’s all you guys fault that we have to constantly feel that we’re not pretty enough…not sexy enough…not good enough. And that you‘ll dump us the second some bimbo with a nice rack walks by or makes you what you consider to be a better offer.”

  His mind traveled back to his days with Dania and the many other hearts he’d led astray and left abandoned for that very reason. Always in search of greener pastures. And in fact how ironic that here he was five centuries later, still caught in the unending predicament he was in for that very reason.

  “Listen to me,” he said very softly. “I know someone has hurt you. And I can’t look you in the eye and tell you that I haven’t had my day playing exactly the role you speak of. But…there is such a thing as second chances and change of heart, and not all of us are like that. Even if we have been at other times in our lives. Some of us learn from our mistakes.”

  “Yeah! My point exactly. I learned from mine,” she said as a single tear slid down her cheek.

  He reached forward to gently wipe it away. “Willow,” he sighed. “I’m no saint, and in fact I’ve been a sinner with the best of them. There’s not a whole lot in the world I can promise, except this one thing: I wouldn’t do whatever it is that he did, or anything else to hurt you.” Not if I can help it anyway, he continued the thought in his head of the words he couldn’t say aloud. And in that moment he was realizing he was asking her to have some faith, and place her trust in him. The very thing he had only moments ago, been thinking of, and how little of it he actually had of his own. Yes, faith was something he’d thought little of in all these centuries, because it involved trust. Trust in one’s self…trust in others. It wasn’t something he was in any position to do. And yet tonight it had come up more than once. Maybe it was for a reason.

  She nodded her head, blew her nose on a tissue that she fished out of her purse and drank a big gulp of water. “Well, you know,” she laughed lightly. “Now I kind of wish I could still feel your soul or whatever it was I felt, or that I actually could read your thoughts. But, it only lasted for a few seconds, so I guess I’ll have to trust you on that one.”

  He smiled and took her hand in his own, as her own smile faded.

  “I know that you’re hiding something from me. I could only feel your thoughts for a few seconds, but I know there’s something that you’re afraid of.” She raised her eyebrows. “It’s something you’ve been afraid of for a long time. Isn’t it.”

  He looked at her in silence weighing his options for the moment. He started to say something but she stopped him. “There’s more to this whole situation than what

  you’re telling me. Isn’t there.”

  Samson nodded. “Well. Yes. And no. It’s hard to explain.”

  She swallowed hard. “Okay. So explain.”

  He sat there in silence for a long moment. “Willow. It’s not that easy. The only thing I can tell you is that I know about as much as you do about this thing with my blood.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. But this is something else. I could feel it, Samson.”

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing. There’s nothing more.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not some international criminal are you?” she joked. Sort of. Then again, she’d only known him a few days. What if he really was and hiding it from her!

  He sighed and laughed lightly. “No. I am NOT a criminal on the run.”

  Her eyebrows knit together. “A fugitive on the run from the government or the police? Do they already know about your blood?”

  He shook his head. “No. And I’d prefer to keep it that way, thank you very much.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, deciding to place her trust in his words. “So then what is it?” She leaned back in the booth, rearranging the napkin in her lap.

  His mind was reeling trying to come up with something…anything to tell her right about now. Because although he was willing to talk about saving Cisco and the little cat….hell, maybe he’d even tell her about Harold…at least eventually, the one thing he was utterly certain he couldn’t disclose was the complete truth of his curse.

  “Well, I was sort of still afraid that you might ditch me once you found out about this ability to heal animals with my blood and I’d hoped you wouldn‘t find out about the soul sharing thing. You know, I only just found out about it myself and it pretty much scared the living shit out of me. So what was going to happen when you found out?”

  Although he’d promised her honesty and had felt a freedom that came with letting go of some part of his past…he found that in this particular instance he was going to have to go back to his old ways of being a damned good liar. And he hoped that he was as good at it now as he’d been back then.

  She shook her head and laughed. “You are so full of shit. Now tell me the real truth.”

  He held his ground not flinching one iota. “Okay. I am full of shit. That I’ll give you, because most men are.” He smirked. “But, seriously. I am telling you the truth. That’s it. Think about it. If it were you, how would you feel….having someone else find out about something like that, when you’re already scared yourself and don’t know what it is and don‘t know if some
one will come haul you away. Or if the person you‘re trying to have a relationship with will be terrified and call to have you hauled away when they find out.”

  Her brows knit together. She supposed maybe he was right. If it were her, she’d probably have a panic attack and head for the ER at St. Luke’s!! But somehow, he’d remained calm throughout all of it, and was coping with it while he figured out what to do.

  “Well. I guess that’s plausible,” she said softly, searching his blue eyes for any trace of treachery. She saw none there, only his warm gaze staring back at her, enveloping her like a warm blanket on a cool night.

  He heaved an inner sigh of relief when he realized she’d bought his story. At the same time he felt a sense of guilt that he was still such a good liar.

  The waiter came by with their check which Samson quickly paid, leaving a generous tip on the table before standing and helping her on with her coat.

  “I guess, maybe we’d better get going,” he said. “Wow. Two nights, two dates, two strikes?”

  She sighed and smiled warmly. “No. Not two strikes. I…believe you.”

  He heaved an inward sigh of relief. He hadn’t know what the hell he was going to tell her if that hadn’t worked because he wasn’t ready for any disclosure about healing Harold just yet. And he could only hope that no other instances of soul sharing would come any time soon.

  Not because he didn’t want to tell her, and not solely because he feared that her perceptions might grow stronger were she to have another episode, and she may discover all of the shit buried in his closet.

  It was because just as Adrielle and Maximus had said; he was going to have choices to make. And he was about to make one right now that she wouldn’t like were she to perceive it. In fact, it was one for which he might lose her completely.

  It was a choice that had started as a vague notion during dinner and as his realizations about his own ideas on faith had come into the picture during their discussion, it had

  grown into a full-blown plan for which nothing could get in the way.

  And as much as he wished that plan involved Willow, with her golden hair splayed out on his pillow, and her beautiful naked body, warm and damp beneath his own, as they explored every square inch of each other, he knew that instead it involved someone else.

  That someone was the little boy she‘d mentioned earlier, on the fifth floor, in room 556 in the B wing at St. Luke’s Hospital, who’s parents had faith that a miracle was going to come…be it from God, or the Heavens or from the angels themselves.

  C HAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Samson rounded the corner of Winston Terrace and pulled into Willow’s driveway, dimming his lights as he pulled in. He didn’t shut off the engine but hopped out to open her door for her offering his arm as he helped her out.

  “So I guess you’re not coming in tonight?” She looked disappointed.

  “Well, I sort of figured maybe you didn’t want me to,” he offered.

  “I told you I believed you earlier.”

  “But do you really?” he said as they walked up to the door of her house.

  “Yes. I mean…” her brows knit together.

  So…you have to think about it, now do you?” he smiled.

  She looked him in the eye hard and long. “No. I don’t have to think about it. I trust you,” she said firmly. “I know it’s crazy…I barely know you. But then this last few days has been crazy too, so what’s one more bit of insanity to add to the heap.”

  He took her in his arms feeling slightly guilty.

  He knew damned well, that what he was about to do when he left here could cost him Willow’s trust…her affection. Everything. But something drove him on.

  In the same way he’d been asking Willow to trust him, more importantly, he was going to have to trust himself. To have some faith that everything was going to work out.

  Perhaps therein was the reason he’d been looking for as to why the subject of faith had come up more than once this night.

  “Promise me you’ll trust me tomorrow….that you won’t change your mind,” he said quietly as he took her face in his hands and softly kissed her lips.

  She pulled back from him slightly. “What do you mean? Why would I change my mind?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. If you sleep on it, I’m just afraid you will. Just promise.” He smiled.

  She nodded her head looking puzzled. “Okaaay. I promise.”

  He pulled her in to him and kissed her deeply, savoring the softness of her sweet lips and trying to keep his resolve that she would indeed still trust him when she got to work tomorrow and discovered that he’d been there and worked the magic of his gift.

  He stepped back from her grudgingly. “Well, I guess I’m going to go now. Maybe we can try again tomorrow? Maybe next time will be the charm.” He laughed lightly.

  “I think you’ve already charmed me,” she said as she reached up and tucked a lock of his sandy hair behind his ear, marveling at how handsome he looked standing there in the soft glow of the porch light. “Now go…before I drag you through this door and lock you in. She took his large hand in her own, tracing the length of his fingers and kissed his palm. “Call me.”

  He groaned inwardly. Here he was, once again passing up his opportunity to bed her….this time for some glorious mission of goodness.

  He kissed her once more quickly, before dragging himself away, and started down the walkway toward the truck as she closed the door behind him.

  Twelve minutes later, he sat at the stoplight waiting to enter the parking garage at St. Luke’s Hospital. His mind was racing at breakneck speed figuring out a plan on how he was going to get into the hospital, make it up to the fifth floor and into the little boy’s room since it was well past visiting hours and he was neither family member nor doctor.

  He would have to get inside the hospital and then figure out how to get into medical garb so he could feign being a doctor of some kind. Breaking a few doorknobs or locks wouldn’t be a problem if need be…any more than scaling the walls.

  He quickly parked, and entered through a side entrance looking around for supply rooms or laundry areas where he might find some scrubs. No luck, so he made his way toward the main entry way where there was an information desk. If anyone asked, he would tell them a relative was in surgery and hope to God there was in fact someone in surgery that night.

  S He S passed S a S sign S that S said, S ''Surgery S Waiting S Area and made a beeline for it. There were no entrances to any operating rooms there, but there was a pair of double doors that lead to the pre-op areas. There was his goal. He knew if he could make it there, he would find some kind of scrubs, or perhaps a jacket that he could borrow long enough to get upstairs to the fifth floor.

  He noted that all he personnel he’d passed in the hallways had name tags with pictures and some kind of I.D codes on them. This would pose a problem. Perhaps he could make sure whatever tags he ended up with were partially covered with a towel around his neck or something of the like.

  He took a peek at a television screen that had a few names on it noting the one that said, P. Harding - In Surgery, so that he’d have an answer as to why he was wandering around if anyone asked. P. Harding….whoever that may be, was his new long lost relative!

  He walked through the double doors into the pre-op area and noted a small room to one side with a desk and then another set of doors that led to the operating rooms. And voila…there was a white coat hanging on the back of a chair at the desk. He slid into the room, and quickly grabbed it from the chair, hoping that it was large enough to fit across his broad shoulders. It was slightly snug, but it would have to do. He grabbed three pens from the desk and shoved them into the front pocket. Remarkably there was also a set of keys, a stethoscope and a short stack of charts sitting on the desk. He looked around to make sure no one was coming and grabbed them from the desk before slipping out through the double doors into the hallway toward the elevators.

  Out of the co
rner of his eye he saw a young man emerge from the bathroom, and head to the little room only to quickly walk back out with a puzzled look on his face, wondering where his jacket and stethoscope had disappeared to, not to mention a couple of charts from the bottom of the stack.

  He felt a bit guilty for leaving the young man in such a state of confusion, but to his credit, he’d made absolutely sure the two charts he grabbed did not have any of the three names that were already listed on the surgeries or pre-op screen in the waiting room. Couldn’t risk some poor bastard…or lady’s life by the medical staff misplacing…or rather having him steal them.

  Samson quickly stepped into the elevator, arranging the stethoscope around his neck and holding the charts high enough to cover the picture on the ID tag that was pinned to his white jacket, as he pushed the ‘5’ button that would take him to the fifth floor.

  A few minutes later the doors opened and he stepped out into the floor, smoothing back his long hair, hoping to tame some of the sun kissed locks into a ‘doctorly’ submission. He looked to the left of him and there was a sign that said, ‘A Rooms 500 - 530’. Wrong wing…he needed B. He looked straight ahead past the nurses’ station and saw the sign that said ‘B Rooms 531 – 560’.

  Shit. He was going to have to walk right by the nurses in order to get there. Hopefully none of them would look up and pay much attention to him if he kept his head down and appeared inconspicuous. Shouldn’t be a problem.

  He looked down at the floor and headed past the desk. No one stopped him or seemed to pay much attention as he headed down the hallway toward 556.

  But he hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he’d hoped.

  “Who was that?” said the tall, willowy brunette nurse standing behind he desk, raising an eyebrow with the look of a cat on the hunt. “Oh, my God. Did you see his hair? And he’s built like….never mind. I’m sorry, but when he comes back down here, he’s mine,” she said matter-of-factly to the aide standing at the computer, as she smoothed her hair and touched up her lip gloss. The aide, smiled, shaking her head as she continued busily typing.