Blood Rites Read Online Free PDF Page A

workroom.
    She thought she had created something magnificent. She was afraid to look and find the flaws.
    On the sideboard in the main room were a bottle of wine and some glasses, kept no doubt for human friends. Without really thinking, she poured a glass. The taste astonished her, the aroma, the feel of the tannin on her tongue. When she realized she was also hungry for conventional human food, she wasn’t surprised. Unlike Stephen whose throat was too narrow to swallow solid food and whose stomach would not digest anything beyond the simplest protein, her body was outwardly human. But her soul craved more—life. Life and blood.
    And she was hungry in both respects.
    She showered, not minding that the house had no hot water. Cold water no longer bothered her and it cleansed just as well. Through the sound of the shower and the silence of her mind, she sensed Stephen had come home.
    —It’s magnificent!—he told her. His praise held no surprise as if he’d always known she would be capable of this.
    Helen dried off quickly, found the robe she’d discarded, and joined him. He sat on a work chair a few feet from her canvas still staring at it. She wanted to paint him as he looked right now, his long legs stretched out, his arms crossed, one hand with its thin, tapering fingers resting on his shoulder. His red cotton shirt and loose black pants were covered with dust and she saw a line of dirt along one pale cheek. He looked no more than twenty. Legally he was forty-one. Actually, he’d crossed a millennium two centuries ago.
    “You’ll be famous,” he said.
    “Is that wise?”
    “Denys is famous. His paintings are displayed throughout the world. His name changes with the centuries, that’s all.”
    “Is he still here?” she asked, hoping for a fellow painter’s critique.
    Stephen shook his head. “He only came for the ceremony. It would be awkward if someone recognized him. Most of Chaves believes he is dead.”
    “Weren’t you planning to stage your own death soon?”
    Laurence and Ann were already settled into their positions here and Laurence would be named director at the annual meeting. “If it weren’t for you, I would never have come back,” he replied. Sensing her need to stay with her new family, he added, “When I leave, you don’t have to join me.”
    “I know.”
    But she wanted to stay with him, wanted it more than her new family or the fragile ties to the old one she had left behind in Ohio.
    “Perhaps it is good that I returned,” he added. “Laurie isn’t ready to assume full director’s duties. At least not yet. He is like Denys—obsessed with his art. With Denys it is painting. With Laurie, music.”
    “Or you with your church windows?”
    “With my work—all of it, though the windows are the most satisfying part. I only wish the family could appoint Rachel as the firm’s director. She deserves it more than any of us.”
    “Why can’t you?”
    “We attract enough attention for the age of our directors. We should not break new ground with sex, yes?”
    “Not yet.”
    Stephen smiled. “Rachel tells me this as well. As soon as we can, we will gladly give her this honor. As for me, I can wait one more year for you to make your decision to stay or to leave with me. When you do, think of what you need, please.”
    “I promise.” Helen stared at the painting again. “Maybe a year will be long enough,” she said more to herself than to Stephen.
    “Are you through for today?” he asked.
    “I have no idea of what I’m going to do next,” she confessed.
    “Rachel sent a gift for you. Try it on while I wash off today’s grime. Then we’ll find inspiration, yes?”
    “Stephen?”
    “There’s nothing to fear, no reason to apologize. When the night is over, you will understand.”
    He makes understanding sound like an order , she thought as she went to their bedroom to open Rachel’s package. Inside was a tent dress of deep forest green. The soft cotton knit was lined