You know, for some reason none of those possibilities seems very likely. You dont strike me as someone filled with the milk of human kindness.
I am not human.
This barely struck me as odd. Impossible as it was, I had begun to guess as much, considering that we had apparently managed to travel thousands of miles in a matter of hours. Then what the fuck are you?
You know.
I was facing death with what I considered a fair amount of noble equanimity, but he was getting beyond frustrating, ruining the whole Joan of Arc bit. I dont know. I told you, I dont even know who I am, and even though you came swooping down on me like a bat out of hell, Im having a hard time processing the idea that youre anything but a crazy stalker whos probably going to dismember my body and gnaw on my bones.
We do not eat flesh. That would be the Nephilim.
That word, that name, struck an odd chord inside me, a surge of nausea that it took all my willpower to control. Yet the word meant nothing. Who are the Nephilim?
He didnt answer. He rose, and I watched him, looking for any sign of weakness. Presumably he wasnt lying about the gunhe was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans and I could see no sign of one on him. For a moment I was afraid he was going to approach me, and I steeled myself to fight, but instead he walked over to the window, pushing open the curtain to let in the early morning light. The soft singing on the radio finished, and the announcer came onmost definitely Australian. I felt a shiver wash over me, and tried to control it. At least Amanda was safe.
And then he switched off the radio, turning to look at me. It is time to go.
Go where? Are you going to explain anything at all or leave me to die of curiosity?
He didnt make the obvious answer. He just stood there waiting, and slowly, painfully I rose to my feet again. I felt
as if someone had used me as a punching bagpresumably this man. I wondered if I looked as bruised as I felt. As I started after him I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. And screamed.
Even before the sound erupted he was on me, one hand clamped over my mouth, the other around my waist, imprisoning me as I struggled against the rising hysteria. I didnt know that woman in the mirrora stranger looking back at me out of warm brown eyes. In fact, in that first horrifying glimpse, it was only the eyes that seemed familiar.
I might have been fighting a machine. His body was impervious to my struggles, my frantic kicks. And as quickly as the panic had come on, it drained away, leaving me staring at myself in the mirror, with him behind me, holding me.
My hair was red. With all the bottles of dye Id used over the years, the one color Id never used was red. Id been blond, brunette, and everything in between, but the very thought of red hair had made me ill. My skin was pale, almost transparent, and the hair was thick and curling, hanging below my shoulders when Id favored something short and manageable. His hand covered half my face, but Id seen my mouthwide and curving, different from the small mouth Id occasionally augmented with lipstick. My own eyes stared out from the face of a stranger, and I wanted to throw up.
He must have felt the fight leave my body, because he slowly released me. I had no doubt those iron hands could clamp over my arms again at any moment, and I did my best to make my body soft and pliant.
You do not fool me, he said in my ear. I am not going to turn my back on you for a minute.
Probably a good idea, I said out of the strangers mouth in the mirror. Id run.
You would be more likely to disembowel me.
Startled, I looked up at him. Again, he was totally without affectId picked up that word during one of my lifetimes, but I couldnt remember where. His eyes were cold, his face blank. Hed said he wasnt human. Impossible as that was to comprehend, looking into his soulless eyes made it marginally more believable.
Not likely, unless youre going to hand me a knife. I was pleased with the caustic tone I achieved, until his next words hit.
You wouldnt need a knife.
I think Ill just stop talking, I said, feeling ill at the picture his words conjured. That was twice hed sent me to the edge of nausea. Probably a combination of jet lag and hunger. My brain was still trying to make sense of it all. So he said I hadnt been out long, yet somehow wed gotten to Australia. Clearly he was lying, and I must have been unconscious for days. It was no wonder my stomach was in an uproarI was starving. Just feed me, I added, and I promise I wont bother you.
He stared at me, and I thought I could feel his eyes on my throat. He still clasped one of my wrists, but the pain of that manacle-like grasp was nothing compared to the rest of my body, so Id barely noticed.
Then he nodded. After you. And with a none-too-gentle shove, he pushed me out the door.
Yes, it was Australia, or he was going to great lengths for a practical joke. The license plates were different, and the ordinary-looking sedan he pushed me into had the steering wheel on the wrong side. He closed the door and moved around to the drivers side, not even bothering to see whether I was going to try to run for it. He must have known I was past fighting.