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THE PATH IS steep, carving sharply up the mountainside,
taking us higher than I’ve been in the Carpathians yet, and I
cling tightly to Lucius’s hand, getting short of breath even though
we’re walking slowly. The terrain is rockier here, and the trees
have thinned out. The air itself is thinner, making the climb even
more difficult.
Even Lucius, who was raised in these mountains, seems to
breathe a little harder. It’s getting dark and we aren’t speaking,
too busy concentrating on our footing. In the silence I can hear
him inhaling and exhaling in steady rhythm by my side.
Suddenly the quiet of that lonely spot is broken by the sound
of someone—something—close by, but hidden from sight.
Footsteps moving quickly in the opposite direction, slipping and
sliding down the mountain so that rocks are dislodged and tumble
toward the valley below.
Who or whatever has passed us sounds big—or maybe there
is more than one of them...
I crush Lucius’s fingers with mine, pulling us both to a stop,
and ask in a whisper, with barely concealed alarm, “Lucius? It’s
getting late.” I peer into the distance, looking for forms or shadows
in the direction of that ominous rustling. “Do you think maybe
we should come back tomorrow?”
I know that I don’t need to remind him that there are bears
and wolves—and people who destroy vampires—in these
mountains. I’m sure that he’ll understand why I’m getting nervous.
The sound of footsteps gets fainter, muffled by a rising wind,
but I’m not reassured—until Lucius, who’s been a half-step
ahead, guiding us on a trail I’ve completely lost track of, turns
and replies softly, “Would I let any harm come to you, Antanasia?
Allow you even to stumble until you know these paths by heart
yourself?”
As I try to meet his eyes in the gathering darkness, the wind
rushes down the valley again, crashing into us, and I nearly lose
my footing. And of course he’s there to steady me, clasping my arm
with his free hand.
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I get my balance, but we stand there for a second face-to-face,
and I forget about my fears, because as always happens when
we’re alone, I want to kiss him.
Far away, I hear more noise. Then I want to go home.
But Lucius has another destination in mind.
“Come along,” he says, starting to walk again. This time, our
pace is slower, because the terrain is getting trickier and the air is
getting very thin for lungs like mine, so used to life near sea level
in southern Pennsylvania.
My eyes are trained downward, and I’m so focused on picking
my way through the rocks that I lose track of everything around
me, including time. I’m surprised when Lucius suddenly halts
and squeezes my hand harder, signaling that I should stop
walking and raise my face to look ahead.
And when I do, I am confronted by...nothing.
Continue to Chapter 11...
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