NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul Read Free Page B

him in two. He was still feeling the shock of it all. He looked at the dirt below him. He couldn’t meet this man eye to eye. He could feel the shame well up in his chest. Burning like a fire in the pit of his stomach.
    “I would never kil l any one in cold blood, Van,” the man informed sincerely.
    Van’s head shot up in consternation. He didn’t vocalize his thoughts. Did he? What was going on?
    Crazy, Van decided. I must be going stark raving mad. A dream. Yes, it had to be a dream.
    “I would think that you would presume it more to be your nightmare.” The stranger’s comment cut into Van’s disheveled thoughts.
    Van gazed at him derisively. “So if I pinch myself, I’ll wake up and you will be nothing but a distant, albeit peculiar, dream. I need nothing more than to close my eyes for a moment and when I open them, you will be gone,” Van elucidated at if it were the perfect solution to his problems.
    The man smiled at Van’s somewhat childish way of looking at this rather serious situation. He would amuse him, he decided, j ust this once. He had time for nothing more. “Then by all means, go ahead,” he stated flippantly, crossing his arms.
    Van squeezed his eyes shut so tightly he saw brilliantly colored stars under his lids. Wh en he opened them, the stranger was not there. Van let out a huge sigh of relief.
    I knew it was only a dream, Van thought smugly.
    Van turned around and the breath he just let out was immediately sucked up in a loud gasp.
    “I am afraid not, m o n ami ,” the man laughed slightly. “I can hear your thought s just as clearly as if you had spoken them aloud,” he explained. “We are connected regardless of how you feel about it or how you interpret the situation before you.
    “I sensed you pain and desperation. So I came to you. To help you through this journey for you cannot walk it al one,” he spoke benevolently.
    Van looked at him as though he were talking in riddles. It seemed this stranger was more confused and messed up than he was. He decided not to ask the man to elaborate on the details. He was afraid he would just dig himself into an even deeper hole. One he would not get out of. He concentrated on the beginning of what the man had said. Maybe he could deal with that a little bit better.
    “If you wanted to help me, as you so claimed, why did you not come for me when I was orphaned at thirteen?” Van demanded to know.
    “You were not ready. You were too youn g and not at a consenting age,” he answered simply.
    Van shook his hea d. “Let me get this straight,” Van started. “You came to help me now even though I am quite old enough to make my own decisions? But, you refused to help me-or so you say-when I was a young child in desperate need of car e? In need of food and a roof over my head? And now that I am of a ‘consenting age’, you want to help?” Van put his fingers to his temples, trying to ward off an oncoming headache. “I cannot believe I am even having this discussion.” He looked up at the stranger in suspicion. “Who are you? What are you?”
    The stranger said calmly, “I can tell you that I am called Saldivar.” He bowed at his introduction then snapped up suddenly. “But I will tell you no more until we are in the privacy and safety of my ch a teau. ” He reached out his hand and gestured for Van to follow. “Come. I will get you food and drink. You can even have a bath and a fresh change of clothes.”
    Van took a tentative step forward then stopped. “Why are you helping me?” he asked once more, doubt clouding his gray eyes.
    “I have told you. I cannot and will not discuss delicate matters such as this until we are home. Now come. We are wasting precious time,” Saldivar spoke impatiently as he began walking east. “W e have wasted enough as it is,” he said under his breath.
    Van followed Saldivar w arily at first. He did not know one thing about this man. For all he knew, Saldivar could be some kind of killer. A