Morning arrives slowly.
Aylin has been summoned by Saint Germain, and now they both stand silently in Noah's bedroom. Garlic braids hang by the door and windows. Saint Germain endures the discomfort in order to keep watch over the boy as he tosses and turns in his sleep.
"He has a high fever," Saint Germain explains.
Tears flood Aylin's eyes but do not fall, perpetually blurring her vision.
"I believe the attacker's intent was to kill," he goes on, "If he had wanted to turn Mr. Grace into a vampyre, we would be witnessing an even more unpleasant reaction. As unlikely as that may seem, it is the truth."
His voice is cool and betrays no emotion.
"I do not know when he will awaken."
Aylin turns away from Noah's bed. She covers her face with her hands, breathing shallow breaths as she tries to hold herself together.
"He said he was safe here..." she says.
She feels anger start to well up inside of her.
"How could this have happened?!"
A part of her blames Saint Germain, although she knows it's unfair. She knows this man is suffering just as much as she, if not more.
She instantly regrets speaking.
He looks into nothingness.
"The failures of my past and my present blend together as if time passes not at all." His voice is hushed, barely a whisper to himself.
Finally, he addresses the girl.
"God has bestowed upon us a second chance. For this we should be grateful."
He stays for a moment, and then excuses himself from the room.
Aylin is left by herself in the darkness.
"Noah..."
He prays.
His fever hasn't yet broken. He writhes in pain as if plagued by a constant stream of nightmares.
At some point he rolls over, clutching himself. He is covered in a cold sweat.
From between chapped lips, his weakened voice comes sweetly into the air.
"Aylin..."
The girl is startled and brought out of her reverie.
She stands from the chair she has occupied for hours and carefully sits down on the bed beside Noah.
Her heart beats rapidly in her chest.
She thinks perhaps she's only just imagined the voice that spoke her name.
She takes his hands in hers.
Ignoring the sweat that clings to his palms, she presses them into her own.
Their fingers intertwine and she feels relief as his nightmares seem to cease.
She lays down by his side, their hands still tightly clasped.
Until the moment she finally falls asleep, she watches over him.
Tears flood Aylin's eyes but do not fall, perpetually blurring her vision.
"I believe the attacker's intent was to kill," he goes on, "If he had wanted to turn Mr. Grace into a vampyre, we would be witnessing an even more unpleasant reaction. As unlikely as that may seem, it is the truth."
His voice is cool and betrays no emotion.
"I do not know when he will awaken."
She feels anger start to well up inside of her.
"How could this have happened?!"
A part of her blames Saint Germain, although she knows it's unfair. She knows this man is suffering just as much as she, if not more.
She instantly regrets speaking.
"The failures of my past and my present blend together as if time passes not at all." His voice is hushed, barely a whisper to himself.
Finally, he addresses the girl.
"God has bestowed upon us a second chance. For this we should be grateful."
Aylin is left by herself in the darkness.
~
Saint Germain stands before an old photograph.
His eyes are fixed on the faded face of the woman whom he loved more than anything in this world.
~
Aylin spends the morning and afternoon at Noah's side.
There is nothing to do but wait.
Time passes, each minute seeming endlessly long. Evening arrives, and with it, only more silence.
Noah... please wake up.
She thinks this, over and over again. She wills him to answer to her, thinking maybe in some distant reality beyond her comprehension, he can hear her.
At some point he rolls over, clutching himself. He is covered in a cold sweat.
From between chapped lips, his weakened voice comes sweetly into the air.
"Aylin..."
She stands from the chair she has occupied for hours and carefully sits down on the bed beside Noah.
Her heart beats rapidly in her chest.
She thinks perhaps she's only just imagined the voice that spoke her name.
Ignoring the sweat that clings to his palms, she presses them into her own.
Their fingers intertwine and she feels relief as his nightmares seem to cease.
Until the moment she finally falls asleep, she watches over him.
Continue to Part 13...
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