Seven Minutes to Midnight

42

"Amy love," came a sigh at my back, and I whirled around.

No longer was I in a grave. I was in the church, behind the altar.

Lane was reclining along the railing of the choir's balcony. His white shirt floated open over a pair of tight black pants. I couldn't tell if they were jeans or possibly something old-fashioned like breeches, as he had black boots—riding boots—pulled up over the legs. Not that I spent much time staring at his feet. Did I mention that his shirt was open?

I pulled my arms tighter across my chest. Like this would keep myself from thinking about how attractive he was. His skin so smooth I just wanted to run my hands all over it.

His blue eyes sparkled at me from across the room.

"Are you having fun?" he asked.

"Fun?"

He arched an eyebrow at me. "Yes, fun. Are you enjoying our little game?"

I could only glare at him.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said lightly with a smile playing on his lips as he swung his legs down and sat upright.

For a moment his legs dangled nonchalantly, like he was sitting on a swing on a bright summer's day. In fact the way the moonlight was shining through the roof and reflecting from his white skin gave him a bronze glow. Looking at him made me feel like it wasn't the dead of night. Looking at him was like looking at an angel.

He jumped from the balcony, just hopped down like it was one foot instead of ten.

He floated down to the ground.

It took a long time before his boots touched the floor.

When they did reach the floor, he was standing right in front of me, on the other side of the altar. Was this surprising? Yes. Was I surprised?

No.

Lane rested his elbows on the rotting altar cloth, his chin in his hand. His black hair had that casually tousled look, curled up over the collar of his shirt. "Would you like this game to end?" he asked.

The shaking of my body came from somewhere deep inside, so violent that I couldn't stop it no matter how tightly I tried to hold myself together. Through the chattering of my teeth I replied, "Yes."

He held out his marble white hand, and I placed my trembling hand in it. The coldness of his skin only made me shake more, but my feet moved, climbing a set of steps I hadn't even seen there. My body, responding to some commands other than my own, lay down face up on the altar. The wood groaning under my weight.

I couldn't look away from Lane's eyes. I knew what was going to happen, but I couldn't stop staring at him.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked.

"Isn't this what you always wanted?" His voice was a tender whisper caressing my ears. "To be immortal?"

"Not like this," I said. His face blurred as tears filled my eyes, and I was finally able to look away, up into the rafters and the open night sky beyond. There was no moon to illuminate me. "Not like this."

"You regret, then, wishing for immortality?"

I thought of my mother, and of Veronica, and their mortality. I couldn't bear it without them. "Yes."

"Do you love me, Amy?"

I closed my eyes. I felt his being enter me, fill me up. He was beautiful. How could I have ever sought to escape him? I wanted him. Him, not immortality. Although if immortality was the price I'd have to pay to have him, I would pay it. I needed him.