Even Vampires Get The Blues

Slashed your neck. He cut your jugular, damn near decapitating you, otherwise I would have rushed you to the hospital. But there was no time, Sam, no time. You were dying. You were leaving me and I couldn't stop it.

The wind picked up, its shrieks painful to my ears.

But I'm alive now, I said, still confused about what happened. So much of it was a horrible blur in my mind.

Paen said nothing, just watched me with a face that bore so much guilt, I wanted to weep for him.

I held out an arm. It was shaky and covered with blood, but it was my arm. See? I'm here. I'm alive. I'm … I stopped, horror crawling over my skin as I realized what was wrong. The wind that roared so loudly it hurt my ears wasn't coming from outside… It came from within me.

From the place my soul used to reside.

"Sweetheart, if you keep trying to scream, you're going to bring the ghost hunters down on us, and you really do need to rest in order to heal up that neck wound."

The horrible rasping, squeaking noise that was my attempt to shriek in horror stopped. I slumped back against the wall, panting with the effort and stress. "Where's my soul?" I croaked.

Pain darkened his eyes, pain and regret and pity. For me. "I'm sorry, Sam. It was the only way I could save you. I had no choice. It was either turn you or let you go, and I couldn't do that. You may hate me for the rest of your life, but at least you're alive. And I swear to you, I'll find your soul and restore it to you."

"Turn me?" My voice was still hoarse, but growing a bit stronger. "You turned me? You made me a female Moravian?"

"Yes," he said, watching me carefully.

I shook my head, wincing slightly at the pain in my neck. "No. When I was a Beloved, you said that was the same thing as being a Moravian. But I had a soul then. I don't now. Where is it? Who has it? I want it back!"

"There is a price for everything, Sam," he answered, his eyes sad, so very sad. "The price of turning a person is the loss of their soul. That's why it's so seldom done—the cost seldom outweighs the act."

I digested that. I was weak from the loss of blood, hungrier than I knew was possible, but inside me, I was hollow. Empty of everything but that damned endless wind. Paen had done this in order to save me, in order to keep me alive. But was it worth the cost?

"Am I immortal again?"

His thumb stroked over my knuckles. "Yes."

"Can I get my soul back?"

"I'm… not sure." He didn't even try to disguise his hesitation.

"Has it been done before? Has someone who has been turned reclaimed their soul?"

His eyes were so polished, I could almost see my reflection in them. "Not that I know of."

A tear rolled down my cheek. "I know you wanted to keep me alive, but Paen… I don't want to spend eternity without a soul."

He pulled me into his arms so my face rested against his shoulder as I sobbed. His voice was rough with emotion, but thrummed inside of me like a thousand strings set vibrating. "I swear to you that you will have your soul back. I swear that on my own, Sam. You saved me when I needed you, now I will save you."

A soul means different things to different cultures. To most, it's the thing that makes us more than just sentient, the part of us that lives on when our bodies fail and turn to dust. As Paen drove me home, I came to realize another function of a soul—it connected us to humanity, made us a part of a common experience. Empty as I was inside, I watched dispassionately as people hurried through the streets of Edinburgh. I felt detached from them all, an observer who found them interesting, but not particularly of any value. I didn't care about them.

With one exception.

Looking at Paen brought tears to my eyes. Not tears of sorrow or self-pity—I had shed the last of those crouched on the floor of Mary King's Close. What made Paen different from the rest of the world was his soul—it shone so brightly around him, giving him a corona of warmth and love that drew me like a moth to flame. I wanted to be close to him just to bask in the glow of life that radiated from him. Touching him, being pressed up against him made the howling inside me die down just a little, and warmed a tiny fraction of my cold being.

"How did you live like this?" I asked him as he helped me up the stairs to my apartment. "How did you live so long without going mad?"

"I didn't know anything else," he answered, his lips brushing my temple. "Until I met you."

Paen insisted I rest and have a cup of tea. "You've lost a significant amount of blood," he said as he tucked a blanket around me where I sat curled up on the couch. "In addition, your body is using up a good deal of energy to heal your neck. You'll need fluids and sugar to help regain blood and finish the healing."