Chapter 7

The Collectors, Part 2

March 8, 2005, Miami - 1:15 AM

It was after 1:00 a.m. when Lucy and I came out of the restaurant. Jean and Amy had already said their good-nights half an hour earlier, but we decided to stay longer to reminisce about the old days.

If I shared with her all my intimate stories, would she accept the truth?

Would she accept me?

We stood next to each other outside the restaurant while waiting for the valet to bring her car around. I tried to keep my thoughts in the present, but they were far away. I was worried, but I didn't want her to notice. But then again, she had always proven to be one smart woman.

"Hey, boss, is everything OK?" she asked, bringing me back to the present.

"Why do you ask?" I said, trying to sound casual.

"You seem annoyed by something," she said, looking closely at my face.

That made me chuckle. "I'm fine," I said, trying to keep my cool.

"Yeah, what was going on between Jean Charles and you back there? Why did you ask him if he was from Washington when I already told you they're both from Canada? What was that about?" Her voice was soft; she was also trying to sound casual.

I looked into her eyes. "Because he is not from Canada - he's from Washington, even though he's a collector—that part is true."

Lucy trained her gaze on me in silence for a moment.

"How do you know these things? Did you have him investigated?" she wanted to know.

I smiled very discreetly, trying to hide my fangs. "I read minds, Lucy," I answered in a low voice.

Lucy remained serious for a moment, and then suddenly, she began to laugh. My smile faded as I watched her reaction. I felt the gap between my immortality and her young years more than ever.

"Yeah, right!" she said.

She noticed my seriousness, and her smile disappeared.

"You are serious?" she asked.

"Only when I want to be," I answered.

Lucy swallowed my words with difficulty. "Have you done it with me?" she wanted to know.

"Sometimes," I confessed.

The valet brought Lucy's car to the front, stepped out, and then held the car door open for her. Lucy looked at the young man and then back at me.

"C'mon, let me take you home," she said.

I looked at the dark skies. "Thanks, but I'd rather take a leap from here," I said as I walked her to the car.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

No, I wanted to say. I'm never going to be all right if I can't be fully honest with those I care about.

What's the truth? I asked myself. After so long, can I be capable of opening up to anyone? Will anyone believe me?

We reached her car, and the young valet handed her car keys back. Lucy grabbed them and then opened her purse, looking for the wallet. By the time she found it, I had already paid the fee. She noticed, looked at me, and smiled.

"Thank you," she said as she got inside the car.

I closed the car door and observed how she waited. Her eyes found mine one more time.

"Gitano," she said.

I looked at her in silence. I could almost feel the words forming in her mind.

"Have you—" she began to say before forcing herself to pause. She smiled nervously. "Do you..." Despite her best effort, she just couldn't finish the question.

Kill. That was the word I read in her mind, but she couldn't say it.

"Yes," I answered.

Her eyes grew teary while mine remained cold. With her right hand, she wipe away the tears.

"This is hard," she confessed.

She took a deep breath as she tried to smile again, at me. "People?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes," I answered without emotion.

"Tonight?" she insisted.

"Yes," I said.

Lucy looked away, fighting back more tears. Then she looked back at me, an angry expression on her face. "Have you ever wanted to do that to me?" she asked with fear.

Her questions put me against my own reality, but strangely I felt proud. "Yes," I answered.

Her expression turned to one of disbelief.

"That first night when I met you," I explained.

"What made you change your mind?" she asked in a broken voice.

"First, it was your anger—that fire inside of you, so rare to find nowadays."

She remained silent.

"Then I got to know you," I added.

"And?" she insisted.

"Then your hunger for life and beauty," I said.

"So, what am I to you, your pet project?" she asked, this time taking offense.

I stood there, realizing that she was smart enough to understand my ulterior motives but scared because she could not see my real intentions. "No," I said.

She gazed intently at me.

"You got in," I added.

Slowly, I placed my left index finger on my left temple. "In here," I pointed out. Then I placed my left hand on my chest. "And in here."

Lucy stared out at the dark highway. "This explains so much," she whispered.

"Now you know why I have to stay away from you."

Her eyes turned to look at me again. "So that's why you're leaving."

"Yes," I said.

"I'll never see you again, right?" she asked, her voice heavy with sadness.

"It is the only way I know that I can protect you."

"From what, people like Jean and Amy?" she asked.

"You should stay away from them," I advised her.

"Are you serious?" she asked, concerned.