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And his body...it felt built of solid muscle and strong, unbreakable bone. Ageless, like so much else about him.
And now that she was thinking about it, there was something distantly, oddly familiar about Gideon too. She looked at him and felt a niggling of her senses, as if they'd met somewhere before, impossible though it was.
Despite the enthusiasm of her instincts--or other parts of her anatomy--she was positive the first time she'd ever met Gideon was two nights ago in the Abbey Room of the Boston Public Library. Until two nights ago, he'd been a stranger to her. A stranger who didn't deserve to have her problems, real or imagined, dumped on him.
Which is why, when Amelie called early that morning to tell Savannah she'd purchased a bus ticket home for her and had it waiting at the station for her later that evening, Savannah had agreed it was probably best for her to return to Louisiana for a while.
She had one more appointment to take care of on campus, then she would be going back to her apartment to finish packing. She wished there was a way for her to see Gideon before she left, say goodbye at least. But short of camping out at the library in the hopes that he might show up there again this afternoon, she had no means of locating him before she had to leave for the bus station tonight.
Maybe Mrs. Kennefick knew more about him? She'd worked in the library records room all her adult life; if Gideon was a patron, maybe Mrs. Kennefick could give Savannah his full name or address. It was a place to start, anyway. Savannah could call and ask as soon as she wrapped up at the English department.
The thought put such a current of hope through her veins, Savannah hardly noticed the white Firebird rolling up behind her at a slow crawl on the street parallel to her on the sidewalk. The passenger side window was rolled down, disco music sifting out from the car.
Annoyed, Savannah glanced over, squinting in the sunlight as the driver reduced his speed even more to keep pace with her.
He was the last person she expected to see today. "Professor Keaton?"
"Savannah. How are you?"
"Me?" she asked, incredulous. He braked to a stop and leaned across the seats as she bent and peered to have a closer look at him. "I'm okay, but what about you? What are you doing out of the hospital? I heard you weren't expected to be released for a week or more."
"Been out for the past hour. Thank God for the miracle of modern medicine." His smile seemed weak, not quite reaching his eyes. He appeared pale and wan, his tanned skin kind of waxy against the dark color of his moustache and heavy brows. He looked haggard and exhausted, like a clubber coming off a rough weekend bender.
And no wonder--two nights ago the man had been hauled away unconscious to the ICU. Now he was behind the wheel of his muscle car with Barry White crooning through the speakers. She walked toward the car and leaned down to talk to him through the passenger window. "Are you sure you should be driving this soon? You were almost killed the other night, Professor Keaton. It just seems like after everything you've been through..."
He watched her fumble , his expression sober now. "I shouldn't be here at all, is that what you mean, Savannah? I shouldn't be alive when your friend is dead."
"No." She shook her head, embarrassed that he misunderstood her clumsy choice of words. "I didn't mean that. I would never think that."
"I tried to protect her. I tried to save her, Savannah." He heaved out a deep sigh. "There was nothing I could do. I hope you believe me. I hope you can forgive me."
"Of course," she murmured. "I'm sure you did everything you could. No one could blame you for what happened to Rachel."
As she spoke to reassure him, she couldn't keep the image of the monster's face from forming in her mind's eye. The horrible fangs. The fiery coals that were its eyes. Her skin went cold at the memory, sending a bone-deep shudder racing up her spine.
And yet Keaton seemed strangely unaffected. He seemed somehow removed from the terror of what he'd endured that night. Calmly accepting of the miracle of his survival following an attack by something inhuman, hellish. Either he truly didn't know the depth of the horror he endured, or he was hiding it from her.
Unless it was Savannah's gift that couldn't be trusted. It had never been fully in her control, but maybe it was becoming unreliable. Maybe she wasn't going crazy after all. Maybe she was simply losing her grasp of the ability she'd tried for so long to keep a secret from the rest of the world.
"I can't imagine how awful the experience must've been for you, Professor Keaton. You and Rachel both." She looked at him closely, searching for any cracks in his demeanor. "When you were trying to save her life, were you able to get a look at the attacker?"
"Yes," he replied, not so much as blinking. "I got a brief look, just before I was knocked unconscious."
Savannah's breath froze in her lungs. "Have you told anyone?"
"Of course. I told the police this morning, when they came to see me in the hospital as I was being discharged."
Savannah swallowed, not at all certain she wanted to hear her terror voiced by another person. "What did you tell them, Professor Keaton?"
"I told them what I saw. A vagrant who likely wandered in off the street, looking for something of value to pawn for his drug money. Rachel and I surprised him, and he attacked us like a wild animal."
Savannah listened, unable to speak for a moment. It didn't make sense. Not that what she saw in the glimpse from Rachel's bracelet made more sense, but she could tell Keaton was lying. "Are you sure about that? You're sure it was a vagrant, not...someone else?"
Keaton laughed then, a short bark of humor. He turned the radio off abruptly, his movements too quick. "Am I sure? I was the only one there to see what happened. Of course, I'm sure. What's this all about, Savannah? What's going on with you?"
"Nothing." She shook her head. "I'm just trying to understand what happened."
"I told you." He leaned farther across the cockpit of the Firebird, reaching for the door handle on the passenger side. "Where are you heading, anyway?"
