Immortal Mine (40 page)

I carry Niahm’s limp form out and place her
in the back of the van on a blanket. I sit next to her, pulling her
head into my lap, her hand clasped firmly in mine, looking for any
flicker of awareness. I’m exhausted in a way I haven’t been for
centuries. I want to hope, try to keep my faith alive, but it’s
near impossible. Her rims were still too wide. Even if she were
immortal, it’s probable that she died too soon. Despair threatens
to overwhelm me.

I can feel Stacy’s eyes on me, watching me
and Niahm in equal turn. Shane is driving, too far away to be
included in her scrutiny. I can feel that she wants to ask
questions, but her concentration on willing Niahm alive is nearly
as intense as mine.

Three hours later Shane pulls into the lot
of the motel outside of Goshen. He’s taken a roundabout way getting
here to be certain we weren’t being followed. He opens the door to
the very room I’d taken Niahm to, waits for us to enter, then moves
the van to hide within the rundown shed behind the motel.

He returns and locks the door, setting the
alarms which will inform us of anyone coming near the premises. He
closes the metal shades that will hide the light from the outside
world.

“Stacy,” he says, turning to Niahm’s friend
who holds her hand tightly across from me. “If Niahm... well, if
Niahm wakes, I think it would be better if...” I’m surprised at how
Shane stumbles over his words. He’s always calm in an emergency. He
moves to the closet and pulls out a sweatshirt and sweatpants.
“There are washcloths and towels in the bathroom.”

Stacy understands his intention. “Yes, okay,
but you two leave.”

I consider arguing. I don’t want to leave
her, not for one second.

“Go, Sam,” she says. “Give her this
dignity.”

I can’t argue with those words, so I follow
Shane to the connecting door between this room and the next. Shane
forces me to shower, arguing that it won’t do Niahm any good to see
me covered in blood either. It seems pointless to me. She isn’t
going to wake. Not now. Not ever.

The shower gives me a place to fall apart,
though, without the eyes of Shane and Stacy on me. This is my
fault, all of it. If I had never come into Niahm’s life, she
wouldn’t be in this predicament now. She wouldn’t have been locked
in a room with what she thought was my corpse, she wouldn’t have
known that her every secret had been exposed to someone. She
wouldn’t now be lying in the next room, dead.

When the water runs cold for long enough to
penetrate my numbness, I step out and dry off. Shane has placed a
clean pair of jean and a t-shirt for me on the counter. I quickly
dress and walk out.

“Left me a cold shower?” Shane asks. I don’t
answer. He walks past me and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Samuel,
don’t give up. Just try to retain some hope, because there is hope
yet.”

I nod though I completely disagree with him.
He disappears into the bathroom. I look at the door connecting the
rooms, wanting to go over, hold her hand, search more. I stand and
grasp the handle between the rooms, but don’t turn the knob. I
simply stand with my hand on the knob. When it turns beneath my
hand, I step back. Stacy opens the door and waves me in.

Niahm is as motionless as before, though now
she is clean, dressed, and her hair has been brushed. It feels far
too much like preparing a body for a wake—something I’ve done many
times in my life. I lay down on the bed next to her, pulling her
hand into mine. Nothing.

Stacy lays down on the other side and takes
Niahm’s other hand. She’s staring at Niahm face as I am, but her
eyes lift to me.

“Is she going to live, Sam?” she
whispers.

“I don’t think so,” I tell her honestly.
Tear well up in Stacy’s eyes, but she blinks them back. “I’m so
sorry for this.”

“For what?” she asks.

“It’s my fault she’s here,” I admit
wretchedly.

She props herself on one elbow. “How do you
figure?”

“If I had never come into her life...”

“If you had never come into her life, she’d
still have gone to the city with her grandma.”

“She only went because she was so angry with
me.”

“No, Sam. Niahm made that decision based on
a desire to get closer to Jean. She would have gone anyway, but she
wouldn’t have had you and Shane there.”

“They shot at
me
,” I argue.

“You got her out of that warehouse, right?
While Jean distracted them. She would never have gotten out
otherwise. And if they had found her, they would have made sure she
was dead.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “How do you know
all this?”

“Shane gave me a rundown while you were in
the shower.”

I close my eyes. Whatever she says, I know
it’s my fault.

“The sun’s coming up,” she says. I open my
eyes and see that she’s right, the room is beginning to lighten. I
enclose Niahm’s hand with both of mine.

Please.

I send the single word into her mind. I see
nothing in response. So I send it again, and again. Stacy closes
her own eyes across from me and slips into a fitful slumber. I keep
sending the word, the plea, over and over into Niahm’s mind, hoping
that somewhere in there she still resides, but knowing the desire
is moot.



Sam

I open my eyes and look at Niahm. Her eyes
are still closed and she doesn’t breathe. Guilt over having fallen
asleep while watching over her consumes me.

Sam.

“What?” I whisper, lifting my head to look
over at Stacy. She’s still sleeping. I watch her for a moment,
wondering if she’s really awake or if she’s said my name in her
sleep.

Sam.

My gaze flies to Niahm. Did she...? I
squeeze her hand tighter.

Niahm, please, tell me that was you,
I send into her mind as forcefully as I can.

Sam
. The word comes again, clearer. I
roll toward her, letting go with one hand to touch her cheek.

“Niahm?”

Stacy sits up at the sound of my voice.
“Sam? Is she...?”

“I don’t know,” I say, unable to keep the
smile from my face. “But I think I heard her.”

Shane moves to the end of the bed. “What did
you see?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just my name. I thought
it was Stacy.”

“It wasn’t me. At least, I don’t think so.
But I didn’t hear anything.”

“You wouldn’t,” Shane says. “Samuel can hear
thoughts by touching someone, particularly their hand.”

“What?” Stacy looks at me as if I’ve
sprouted two heads. She shakes her head, then looks at Niahm’s hand
in mine. “Wait, so you’re saying you
heard
her? She’s...
alive?”

I sit up, place both hands around Niahm’s
once again. Once again, I get nothing, not matter how much I plead
with her.

“I can’t hear her now. Maybe it was just
wishful...” I can’t finish, the thought of her never coming back
after imagining her there is too much. Suddenly, Stacy thrusts her
hand at me.

“What am I thinking?”

I just stare at her, not sure where this is
going. Why now? I take one hand from Niahm’s and grasp Stacy’s.

“You’re thinking you don’t believe I can
read minds,” I say. Stacy gasps. “You also don’t believe we are
immortal. And yet, you somehow believe Niahm will live again.” She
simply stares at me, mouth agape.

Finally, she says, “What else?”

I look again, then shake my head sadly at
her. “You don’t think any of this is my fault. And you think Niahm
would agree.”

She pulls her hand from mine. “Can someone
lie in their mind?” she asks.

“Yes, but I can always see the truth beneath
the lie.”

“Did I lie?”

“No,” I say. “That doesn’t make it the
truth.”

She reaches out to touch my arm in comfort,
but then draws back. I grimace at the action. “Now you know why
Niahm broke up with me. In fact, she ordered me to go away and
never come back.”

“This?” she asks, looking at her hand. At my
nod, she says, “I can totally see how that would tick her off.” She
grins. “How many times did you do it without her knowing?”

I shrug and Stacy shakes her head. “That
many, huh?” This time she does touch my arm. “Sam, if you looked
into her mind, you know that if there’s one constant about Niahm,
it’s that she doesn’t hold a grudge. She gets angry, but then she
forgives and forgets. She loves you, Sam. This wouldn’t be the
thing to drive her from you.” She pauses. “Fear would. If she knew
about you, she knew she wouldn’t be able to have her happily ever
after in Goshen that she’s always imagined.” She squeezes my arm
and releases it. “If she knew that
she
might be... the
same... that would have scared her more than anything else. That
would definitely screw up her plans. Unlike the rest of us who
can’t wait to escape, Niahm was doubly determined to stay.”

“You know her pretty well, don’t you?”

“Yeah, well, we’ve been besties our whole
lives,” Stacy smiles as she caresses a hand down Niahm’s face.
“There isn—” She stops speaking abruptly, her face changing from a
musing look to one of shock.

“What?” I ask urgently.

“Her face,” she says, turning to look at me.
“It’s warm.”

I look at Niahm, touch her face myself. It’s
true. She should be cold to the touch without blood flowing through
her veins.

“Shane?” I say, but he’s already pushing
past Stacy, stethoscope in hand. He places it against Niahm’s
chest, listening intently. I’m doing the same by clutching her
hand. Silence. Then...

One single beat. Faint, almost non-existent,
but there nonetheless.

Shane’s gaze meets mine. A matching grin
lights his face as Stacy shifts from foot to foot impatiently
behind him.

“What?” she says. Then, more fervently,
“What!”

“A heartbeat,” Shane says, turning toward
her. “Only one, fairly weak, but a heartbeat.”

Stacy drops to her knees by Niahm’s
feet.

“C’mon, Niahm,” she says. “Give us another
one.”

Shane and I both listen intently, Shane
waving Stacy to silence to better hear. And then... another beat,
still faint but slightly more clear.

Niahm
, I project,
come back to
me.

Sam
.

Sam calls to me, repeatedly. I can hear him,
but I can’t find him. I’m looking for him in every way I know how,
but all around me is darkness. Actually, darkness isn’t the right
word. It’s nothingness. Thick and intangible, seen and unseen. I’m
lost, with only his voice as any kind of compass point. I try to
call for him, but my voice is absorbed by the nothingness around
me. I feel like if I can just call him, he’ll be able to reach me
and save me from this dreary place.

I crouch down, crossing my arms over my
chest, fists clenched, centering myself. I can’t tell up from down,
but feel I must by sitting upright. Closing my eyes reinforces the
feeling. I take deep breaths which pulls no oxygen into my lungs.
The action gives me something to do, though, so I continue. When I
feel balanced I put everything I have into one word.

Sam.

I hear myself. He doesn’t answer, so I
repeat the procedure and call again. This time I feel as if he’s
listening. I call once more and finally hear him responding,
calling my name back to me. Keeping my eyes closed, I stand and
follow the sound, depending on my hearing rather than my sight,
which is useless in this environment. He continues to answer my
calls with his own. He’s pleading for me to find him.

Like a miracle, he’s there. I see his hand
reaching for me. I grasp his hand desperately, and with a
wrenching, painful jerk I’m hauled into the light.



My eyes open, my vision filled with the
sight of Sam grinning at me, tears running from his eyes so like my
own, rimmed in green instead of gold. His copper hair is a mess,
made more so as I reach up and thread my fingers through it. I pull
his mouth to mine, hungry for the sensation of life after the
desolation.

His mouth on mine is desperate as he hauls
me up into his arms, clasping me tightly against his chest. My
return kiss is just as frantic, my fingers urging his mouth closer
to mine. Finally he pulls back a little, resting his forehead
against mine as he stares into my eyes.

“I love you,” he says, his voice full of
fervent emotion. “You came back to me.”

“You found me,” I answer. “I was lost, and
you found me.”

He pulls me close again, hugging me as if
he’s afraid he might lose me if he let go. I return his embrace, my
eyes closed against the brilliance of my love for him. I’ve loved
him for a long time, but I’ve never felt this strongly for him, as
if he is the center of my existence, as if I must protect his life
with my own if I’m to survive myself.