Page 265 of Shifting Hearts 1
At night, she cried. I never knew if it was for Alex and Leigh, or if she remembered them at all. Morgan never appeared in those moments.
Two weeks later, Paul returned, and I had never seen a vampire so thoroughly shocked. She tended to him, let him shower, even stole clothes from Jeremy’s house for him. He confessed what had happened—he’d hunted his killer, felt satisfaction, but had accidentally killed a woman, a mother. Seeing her child shattered him, breaking his spirit in an instant.
“It’s your gift,” she told him. “Your compassion.”
They left for South Dakota, to the Black Hills, and she stayed by his side, guiding him through the forested land I had purchased until he was ready. They rented a cabin, planted a vegetable garden, and even created a nursery in one of the rooms. They cared for it all diligently.
Morgan found work at the restaurant Mel and I eventually joined, while Paul helped with construction. The boy was extraordinary. His compassion reminded me of Morgan, his restraint from killing humans was almost alien. New vampires often carried a deranged hunger for blood, but not him.
They became active in the community, helping wherever they could. I realized then that they were the couple Frederickson had wanted me to meet, but they had left unexpectedly. Mel joked that greater help had arrived, but I saw in my mind that Black Hills had lost a rare opportunity.
Time passed. One night, Paul had a wild idea, and I laughed along with Morgan. He wanted to build a whole community, not just a shelter, but affordable homes, a little village.
“We need money, Paul,” Morgan said.
“No,” he replied. “We don’t. We can work through the night. Build it like a real hippy village.”
And just like that, she began to carve a life beyond the shadow of Blaze.
“Oh, someone gave you that land, just to cut down the trees for these homes?” she asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice.
He understood immediately.
“I love your idea,” she continued, “but we need money, Paul.”
His excitement faltered. “Yeah… maybe it was a silly idea after all.”
“No, it’s not,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful. And who knows… maybe it could actually happen.”
He sank slightly, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face. But he was good for her. The nights were quieter now; she didn’t cry as much.
The years passed.
They spent Christmases alone, often invited to New Year’s parties. And every time, she would perch on a windowsill, away from the crowd, staring out into the night.
“What are you thinking?” I asked once, but she didn’t answer.
So I just watched the world through her eyes, gazing out at the cold glow of lights, listening to the countdown of voices ringing in the New Year.
I closed my own eyes, a heavy weight pressing on me. It was wrong. So wrong. And I had no idea where it would end for us. I shouldn’t feel this way at all, I was supposed to have all the answers, but some things about Morgan Freeman remained a mystery. Some things I would never understand.
FOURTEEN
JASON
We were four years away from Cassandra. Paul, two years a vampire, yet carrying the heart of a seven-hundred-year-old soul.
Compassion was his gift. In my three-thousand-year existence, I had never seen anything like it. One innocent death shattered his innocence, yet he was determined to make a difference. There was a future for him with my daughter. He was a good boy.
Morgan watched him as he tended the exotic fruit, her presence calm yet attentive. Sometimes I wondered if she ever thought of taking it further with him. Why didn’t she? Perhaps because, in a way, she had created him.
I stared at her. She smiled, but it didn’t last. Her eyes froze, her smile vanished, and a fear I had never seen on her face emerged, sharp and raw.
I strained to listen. No one was near, yet she could hear so much further than I could, far beyond any of us.
Then it came: an agonizing wail that tore through the air. She fell to her knees, screaming, body shaking.
Paul was instantly at her side, but I just watched, powerless.
