Thief of Souls

Nick climbed in his car and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. He had parked the Mercedes in the all night parking lot on the other side of the hospital, which was his habit when he wanted to keep the car hidden. He sighed, weary of the subterfuge.

Straightening, he slammed the wheel with his fists, gritting his teeth until he heard his jaw crack. He wanted her back, the Regina who had attracted him in a way no woman had in endless, desolate centuries. He wanted the woman with the beautiful face and lush body who thought herself ordinary, the woman who wanted to help people as a doctor, not because of the prestige or the money but because compassion moved her. He wanted the woman who loved a young boy, mourning the loss of potential—the woman who, despite being sensitive to Nick’s perverted nature, loved him anyway. And part of Regina loved him. She must. Otherwise, he wanted to end it now, this farce of an existence.

Nick jammed the key in the ignition, turning on the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. He was only putting off the inevitable. He couldn’t stay away. The Magic wouldn’t let him. However—and there was the part that mystified him most—the Magic hated her. He could feel the antipathy throbbing around him whenever he was with her. And the scar…the scar ached with the hate. Strangely, the Magic goaded him to act swiftly rather than retreat, almost as if it feared leaving Regina’s soul intact for too long would give her power. What kind of power? he wondered, and was the power ultimately within her or him? The Magic did not enlighten Nick, and he had no way of knowing.

She had called him Nicky like the mindless thing Cheryl had become. That more than anything had stressed the alteration in Regina. She suffered because of his sloppy excesses, which was inexcusable.

How had it happened so quickly? Right now the change should be minimal, undetectable. Her transformation should be taking place slowly, Regina not perceiving what was happening to her until the very end. Had he lost his ability to pace himself, or was he simply unable to pace himself with her? Again, he sensed the answer lay in the Magic.

Regina’s grandmother had been to see her after he left this morning, just as he suspected she would. He had made himself scarce for that very reason, not wanting to embarrass Regina by being there when Mariann finally came. He wasn’t surprised the old woman had acted immediately. Mariann thought him a monster, endangering her grandchild.

She was right.

Midnight found Nick in the South Waterfront Business District, and he parked the car, wandering out on a small public pier, deserted at that time of night. One inadequate street lamp lit the wood and cement structure, but it didn’t matter. The solitary gloom suited him.

Standing at the farthest edge of the pier, he stared out where the ocean met the sky, the impenetrable blackness hiding exactly where that meeting was. The tang of salt water and dead fish assaulted his nose with the shifting breeze, while inky swells lapped against the pilings, creating a suction sound below his feet. The air was cold, bracing, but he wasn’t uncomfortable. Regina’s spirit kept him warm. That knowledge gave him no pleasure.

The isolated peace of his surroundings reminded Nick of how alone he was, what lay between him and the rest of humanity. Regina was his sole link to that humanity, and soon he would be headed back to her, perhaps to sever that link for good…

He grabbed the railing, holding on tight to keep from tossing himself into the murky soup foaming under the pier. Why should he hold himself back? he wondered. Perhaps this was his way out. Perhaps the sea would haul him under, trapping him in its watery fist, dashing him against the rocks, keeping him there until he rotted beneath the deadly waves. And perhaps, just perhaps, while he was saving himself he could save Regina as well.

“That is not your fate, Nicolae Antonescu,” a spiteful voice whispered in his head, “for in your battered and rotted state you will survive, your remains coughed up on the land to become the same grotesque beast who was towed under…and Regina will be waiting.”

Nick howled, a tormented sound caught by the wind and flung over the water. The cry curled back at him, mournfully, and pain exquisitely agonizing for its clarity filled him—the pain of his ineptitude, his weakness…of the inevitability of his battle with greed. Never, not in four hundred and fifty years had he wanted this badly to find himself, to cease being what he had become. How did he exorcize the evil that invaded his pores, permeated his blood, formed the very air he inhaled and exhaled?

Tonight…tonight he felt close to the answer despite his pessimism. Not that it was even somewhat clear to him. It wasn’t. It skittered just beyond his grasp, revealing only enough to frustrate. But if the answer was there, merely needing to be unearthed, then he had a reason to renew the fight. He ignored the jeering voice that filled his head again, asking how he now planned to discover what he’d spent centuries trying to discover without success.

One thing he knew for certain—the solution to his problem would not be coming to get him. He must continue to seek his own salvation, for the Magic had no vested interest in seeing him succeed. And now he had more reason than ever to want to save himself.

It was Regina’s only hope.