Page 68 of The Doctor and the Devil
“Would you prefer we were alone?” I asked.
“Absolutely not, Mina,” Rafael said. “The last time I left the two of you together, things didn’t end very well for you. I’m staying.”
Laszlo winced slightly but nodded.
“As you wish, brother,” he said. His voice was warm and rich, unlike the despondent roughness from the previous evening. He walked to the fireplace and sat in the chair next to Rafael, leaving me the remaining seat on his left. Before sitting down, I picked up the glass of blood from the nightstand and drank deeply. The hunger that had awakened in my belly was somewhat mollified.
“Can I offer you some refreshment?” I asked.
“I would be honored,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, handing him a glass. “For granting my request. For turning me. I know you are forbidden from turning anyone who isn’t your mate, and I want you to know the sacrifice is not lost on me.”
Rafael was silent, assessing us.
“I have wanted to turn others,” Laszlo admitted, swirling the dark red liquid in his glass. “Marguerite is not the first woman I’ve loved. I’ve lived lifetimes longer than even Rafael, and no matter what they say, it never gets easier to watch the humans in your life wither and die. But I’ve never broken that rule. I have never turned anyone except for her. And I did so out of sheer desperation.” His eyes cut to Rafael, the silent question on his face.
Rafael shook his head. “Never. I kill and drain when necessary, but I have never turned another. I would have turned Mina had she asked.”
The edge in his voice drew my attention, but there was no animosity in his expression.
Laszlo tilted his head to regard me.
“I knew you were something special, Doctor—even before I offered you the choice. You spent your entire human life trying to help my kind and solve problems that were not yours. You atoned for mistakes you never made. You speak of my sacrifice, but it is you who has lived as a martyr to our curse.” He drained the glass and stood to place the empty crystal on the mantle. “And make no mistake—itisa curse. You will have Rafael to coax your happiness through eternity, but you must be prepared for the loneliness of time.”
“All of my friends have been turned,” I replied. “I felt more lonesome as the last lingering human in our group. It grieved me to think of aging while they remained trapped in amber—looking down on me pityingly.”
Laszlo shook his head slowly. “I speak not of company, though that is part of it. When you have been alive for hundreds and hundreds of years, young one—only then will you understand. You will see the world change in ways you are not prepared for. It is a sad thing to look around you and feel as ancient as naught but the mountains. The older you get, the harder it becomes to…understandpeople, places, things. You become a living relic—ancient and sacred. Something meant to be enshrined in a tomb, not walking around, witnessing the relentless march of days.”
I was stunned, overcome by the gravity of his words.
“I pray you retain this zeal you have for life, Doctor. This passion! Do anything—anything—to keep it. Do not fall victim to the melancholy of millennia when you cease to feel rapture at the miracles of the world. The growth of a tree. The birth of a human baby. The moon and the tides. The true curse we bear is not that we must live like parasites, surviving on the blood of others. The curse is that we must exist with more loneliness than anyone can bear over countless lifetimes.”
I nodded, my emotions caught in my throat.
“You had gifts before you were turned, Doctor: kindness, intelligence, compassion, strength, loyalty. These gifts are better than anything you could have gained from your turning—though I suspect those will reveal themselves to you in time. Respect the rules of our curse. Honor your gifts. And do not forget to keep the candle of your humanity lit.”
He came to stand before me, then kneeled to take my hands in his. The smile on his face was small and heartbreakingly sad. I wondered if he’d had a full smile since the death of his daughter.
“You will do many great things. Trust in yourself. Trust your instincts. Let the blood tell you what it wants you to know. I have the utmost faith in you, Doctor Wilhelmina Van Helsing.”
I blinked back tears—the same strange silver ones that I’d cried before.
“Marguerite is recovering,” he said, turning to Rafael. “We thank you for your hospitality, brother. I know you have no reason to offer it. We will not stay here overlong.”
The shadow of disappointment crossed Rafael’s face, but he lifted a shoulder in forced nonchalance.
“You will do as you please,” he said. “But we should all agree upon what needs to be done about the Order. If everyone is feeling up to it, I will have sustenance brought to the greenhouse and we can discuss the matter there.”
Laszlo’s brows hitched up. “The greenhouse?”
If Rafael had been capable of blushing, he would have been as red as a beet.
“Yes, I…well, I’d like to show it to you. I think you’d appreciate it,” he stammered. The boyish need for approval from his big brother made him seem so human, the sweetness of it almost shattered me.
Laszlo nodded appreciatively.
“I am certain I would,” he said, walking back to the door. “I’ll rouse Marguerite and we’ll await your summons.”
