He called Elena's phone. It rang four times....she was a late riser, he knew this, had noted it as one of approximately ten thousand things he'd been thinking about without admitting he was thinking....and then her voice, rough with sleep, confused:
"Raphael? It's....what time is it?"
"Get dressed," he said. "Don't open your door for anyone until I get there. I'm fifteen minutes away."
A pause. Then.....and this was one of the things, one of the ten thousand things....she didn't panic. Didn't demand explanations he didn't have time to give. Just: "Okay. I'll be ready."
Two hundred years. He had been alive for two hundred years.
He pressed the accelerator down and drove faster.
****
Eve's POV — One Hour Later
Maya arrived at Eve's door at nine-fifteen with tea for both of them, a slightly battered paperback tucked under her arm, and the fox pajamas that she'd apparently decided were acceptable daywear for the duration of her stay at the estate.
