Page 65 of The Doctor and the Devil
The sensations that assaulted me were intense enough to be painful. The sounds and smells and uncomfortable awareness of thoughts from everyone in the household pressed against my consciousness until I wanted to claw my brain from my skull. Slowly, my new form became accustomed to the riot of stimuli, and with effort, I found a place of quiet stillness in my mind. It was like living a life in a cottage on an island surrounded by the sea and then suddenly waking up in the middle of the busiest square in the busiest city.
Once the shock of my situation worn off—I was shot, turned, dead, and alive once more—I was left with the waning embers of hope and the gnawing doubts about what had befallen Rafael and my friends back beneath the Order’s mausoleum.
Some strange, new instinct had me closing my eyes and stepping out from the quiet place in my mind and reaching out—listening. I heard people moving in the household. I heard birdsong in the world far above me and the soft sounds of wind across the grass and a distant stream burbling, tripping its way over river stones. I found myself open to vast amounts of sensory information, and if I was careful and mindful, I could home in on one being at a time. It wasn’t like reading another person’s mind, but if I focused hard enough, I could perceive the shape and feeling of an individual’s thoughts. In this household, it was a heady mixture of fear, love, relief, and worry. When my mind drifted to Rafael, the sense of his grief, shame, and regret broke my heart, but the persistent pulse of love from him was a soothing balm.
Most of the turnings I’d seen, as well as Charlotte and Antoine’s werewolf turning, had taken place over the course of days—weeks, in some cases. And yet, mine had taken place over the course of a few hours. It could have been from the strength of Laszlo’s blood and his proximity to the curse, but I wasn’t certain. I’d need to speak with him—and soon.
RAFAEL
Mina tilted her head—a soft smile appearing on her lips.
“You are not dreaming,” she murmured.
I froze.
“You can—read minds,” I said slowly.
“I can…sense…thoughts,” she replied, her brow furrowing. “It is strange. I feel very strange, Rafael. Everything is more intense.”
“You’re alive. You survived death and the turning,” I stated, stunned.
“Yes,” she acknowledged, softly.
Emotions surged and I stumbled, gripping the door frame for strength.
“I thought you were dead,” I choked out.
She tilted her head, considering. “Technically, I was,” she replied. “And now I am…not. It’s a very odd thing.” Her eyebrows pinched together. “When this is over, I will need to update my notes and my medical texts. I fear I got a few things wrong in my understanding of supernatural anatomy.” She held up her formerly human hand and stared at it as she grew long, lethally sharp claws.
Her logical assessment of the miracle of her rebirth unlocked me, and I smiled.
“It will be like this for a few days as your body learns to adjust to your supernatural senses,” I said softly. I crossed the room to sit next to the bed in the chair Daphne had occupied.
Mina reached for a pitcher of water on the nightstand and a pewter cup.
“Allow me,” I offered, pouring her a drink. I tried not to stare at her—to evaluate what else was different about her supernatural form from her human one. She seemed the same, if a little worn out and on edge.
“It is not what I expected,” she blurted out, massaging the place between her brows that usually held her tension.
I bit my lip, trying to keep from peppering her with questions or launching my body at hers and covering her skin in worshipful kisses.
“Oh?” was all I replied. “What did you expect?”Why didn’t you want me to turn you?The traitorous, selfish thought whined in my ear like a mosquito of self-doubt.
She sighed, pursing her lips. After a moment, she began.
“It’s not that I never considered turning, Rafael. Of course I did—for you. But that was years ago, and I spent the rest of my life convincing myself that I didn’t need to become supernatural to prove that I had value—that I was worth something. At first, after you sent me away, I wanted to be enough for you. And then, when I had soothed some of my hurt, I wanted to be enough for myself.” She reached for a small glass of blood on the nightstand that had been kept warm by the low flame of a candle. Curiously, she sniffed at it, lifted it to her lips, and drank greedily. When she was finished, her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Fascinating!”
“Mina, you have always been enough for me. You have always been worth more than ten of me—a thousand of me, even. When I sent you away, I thought I was protecting you from my father’s wrath. I never considered that I was protecting myself from the pain I feared I would feel if and when we were separated by time. Perhaps I didn’t want to approach you to work out a solution together because there was some part of me that believed it would be futile, since you did not want to turn. For that, I am sorry—I will never stop apologizing for getting things so wrong.” I stood to refill the glass of blood from a crystal decanter.
“My anger at you has protected me, as well, Rafael. But when I was laying there on the ground, feeling my life ebb away, there was peace and…clarity. I held onto my anger because it was a shield. Yet the only thing it protected me from was finding happiness and closure without you. I think, on some level, I didn’t want to heal from our wounds because it would mean having to let you go. And even though we have been apart for the last twenty years, I think I have always lived my life alongside yours. Keeping to a nightly schedule, immersing myself in work benefiting vampires and vampire kind, forming relationships with supernatural people…the proximity to blood, death, and darkness…it has been my life even without you. I was never one for spring flowers and sunshine. I would have always found the night—and found you in it, waiting for me. The threads of my entire being have been interwoven with yours from the beginning.”
I was speechless—devastating grief and overwhelming hope warring in me like the forces of nature building a hurricane. I opened my mouth to speak, but she pressed a gentle finger to my lips.
“When I was dying, I wanted more time, but not for me. For you. We spent so long apart, and I couldn’t believe things were over now that we’d found our way back to each other. I realized that I still wanted the same things I always wanted, it was just that for the first time ever, I could see you standing next to me in my dreams of the future. I want the happiness that being with you gives me. I want the joy and love we forged years ago. I want the life we dreamed of back when we were too young and naïve to know the cruelties the world had in store for us.”
I sucked in a breath.
“What are you saying?” My chest ached with longing to hear the words from her lips—words I’d dreamt of every night since we separated years ago.
