In two hundred years, he had gleaned a great deal of medical knowledge.
Withdrawing the needle, he inserted it into the section of latex tubing that was used toadd antibiotics and pushed the plunger, mixing his own blood with the liquid dripping into her vein. He repeated the procedure several times, and all the while he thought of the little girl with curly blond hair who had come to him looking for a miracle.
Alexander smiled grimly as he left the girl's room and headed for the emergency exit located at the end of the hall. He glanced down at his arm. A spot of dried blood marred his skin.
Dark blood.
Inhuman blood.
Mingling with the girl's.
He wondered what madness had possessed him to mingle his blood with the girl's. Would it kill or cure, he mused. Had he been savior or executioner? Unfortunately, or fortunately perhaps, he would never know.
He did not linger over the other very likely consequences that would result from his rash action if she survived.
It was near dawn when he stepped out of the hospital. Drawing in a lungful of cool air, he gazed up at the brightening sky for a long moment. He yearned to stay and watch the sun rise, to feel the blessed heat of a new day, to listen to the world around him come to life, but he dared not linger. He had given Kara Crawford almost a pint of his blood, and it had seriously weakened him. In his present condition, the sunlight could be fatal. With a strangled cry, he hurried toward home.
Chapter Two
Kara climbed up out of the darkness that engulfed her. Gradually, she became aware of voices: Nana's voice lifted in urgent prayer; Gail's voice, filled with heartache as she begged Kara to come back, please come back.
A man's voice, sounding startled as he exclaimed, "She's coming around!"
A woman's voice, filled with disbelief. "It's a miracle!"
"Miss Crawford? Kara? Can you hear me?" This from the man as he bent over her.
She tried to speak, but no words passed her lips. She tried to nod, but didn't seem able to move. So she blinked up at the white-coated man bending over her.
"Kara?" Gail slid under the doctor's arm and grabbed her sister's hand. "Kara, you're awake!"
"G . . . Gail?"
Her sister nodded vigorously. "I knew you wouldn't leave me. I knew it!"
"Stand aside, Gail," the doctor said. Withdrawing a flashlight from his pocket, he checked Kara's eyes, noting their response to the light. "Do you know your name?" he asked.
"Kara Elizabeth Crawford."
"Do you know what year it is?"
"Nineteen ninety-six."
"Do you know where you are?"
"Hospital?"
The doctor nodded. Lifting her right leg, he ran his thumb along the sole of her foot, grunting softly as he watched her toes curl.
"We'll have to do more tests, of course," he said, replacing the covers over Kara's leg, "but I believe she's going to be all right."
"Thank God," Nana murmured. "Thank God."
When Kara woke again, it was dark and she was alone. Four days, Nana had said. She had been in a coma for four days. Where had she been during that time? She had often wondered where a person's spirit went when the body was in a coma. Did it just lie at rest inside the body? Did it roam over the earth like a lost soul? Try as she might, Kara could remember nothing at all, except. . .
She turned toward the window and stared out into the darkness of the night. She seemed to remember a man, a tall, dark man who had seemed more shadow than substance as he hovered near her bedside. But surely he had been just a fever dream, a figment of her imagination. No flesh-and-blood man could possibly have eyes so dark, so ageless. So haunted. No earthly man could move with such soundless grace.
And his voice, deep and resonant and filled with suffering. His voice, speaking her name, communicating with her soul.
If he had been nothing but a dream, it was a dream she would welcome each night of her life.
"Come back to me," she whispered. "Come back to me, my angel of darkness."
Alexander's head snapped up as a faint voice whispered inside his mind. Her voice. He knew it was hers though he had never heard it.
"Kara." Her name slid past his lips, unbidden. "What have I done?"
As though he had no will of his own, he found himself rising from his chair, walking out into the night, following the