Eternity and a Year Read Free Page B

hips and back ached dully when she rolled over to silence it. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and climbed stiffly out of bed, the sheet slipping from her legs and pooling around her feet on the floor. She shuffled her way to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would help to ease her achiness.
    She was halfway bent over the tub, reaching for the knob that would turn on the water, when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her buttocks, angled towards the glass, bore faint traces of dusky purple where they’d been pressed against the hard floor the night before. She straightened and turned to face her reflection to find her loins were dusted with the same subdued shade from hipbone to hipbone, marking where Brendan’s body had met her own. And, of course, there were the twin wounds on the side of her neck, pinpoints rimmed with dried blood that she could see if she tilted her head a little. There were no illusions for her of last night being only a dream. Carrie hoped Brendan felt as reassured as she did.
    She climbed carefully into the shower and stood in the spray of hot water, letting it wash away a few flecks of dried blood from her neck as she breathed in the steam it produced. When she finally shut off the flow, she didn’t want to step out, not so soon. If only she didn’t have to go to work, she thought. It would be agony—outfitting mannequins, dealing with customers and running the cash register all day while she ached with stiffness and bruises and—most of all—the desire to have Brendan’s arms around her again. Nighttime was such a long while away, but Brendan had insisted she must wait until then to see him next. He’d promised to come to her apartment after dusk. Carrie shivered, half with delight at the thought of having him in her bed—their bed—again and half out of an eerie sense of incredulity at the memory of his blood-smeared mouth and his eyes of a similar shade, gone wide with lust.
    He was a vampire. Even as she thought it, she had to suppress the urge to scoff at herself. A vampire? Even seriously considering his claim had to be ridiculous. But his fangs had pierced her neck and her blood had surged into his mouth. If that didn’t make him a vampire, then what did it make him?
     
    * * * *
     
    Carrie was panting lightly by the time she arrived home late that afternoon. She had hurried there from work, eager to prepare herself for Brendan’s arrival. She wanted everything to be perfect. She hastened to her bedroom and unknotted the scarf she’d worn around her neck to hide the twin wounds Brendan had given her, throwing it unceremoniously into the laundry hamper—the thing had been driving her crazy all day, making her sweat slightly as it rubbed uncomfortably against her bite. Her clothing had hidden the rest of the evidence of their reunion, but she’d winced a couple of times when she’d bumped her hip on the counter.
    The first thing she did after ridding herself of the scarf was to take out the trash. She didn’t want Brendan to see the empty bottles that lay discarded inside. It was embarrassing now that he had returned, but the impending anniversary of his disappearance had driven her to empty quite a few of the glass containers in an effort to numb the pain. The heady aromas of various amber liquids that rose from the trash bag as she tied it shut conjured up hazy memories of not-quite oblivion that had shaved the edges off her loneliness and replaced them with a deep sleep, the dreams of which she was never able to remember.
    After the garbage had been taken outside and the can lined with a fresh bag—lemon-scented to help cover any remaining alcohol fumes—Carrie turned to the counter, where a tiny, red light on her answering machine was blinking regularly.
    “This is Deborah,” a familiar voice said brusquely when Carrie hit the play button. “It’s been a year now, so I thought—”
    Carrie punched the delete button firmly. The fact that it was the