Chapter 7

Béla sat in the overstuffed chair watching Jake examine his new toy for the tenth time. It had been a long time since she had seen that gun. It had been used on her once before, long ago, by someone who was actually trying to kill her. He thought he succeeded and she never intended to let him find out differently. When he had found out, years later, she'd been forced to kill him anyway.

Jake pointed the gun at Béla. She felt herself tense up. The gun clicked.

Relaxing, Béla said, "Do you want to play that game, again?" and smiling to let him know she was willing, now that he had a gun with a silencer on it, to let him do anything he might want, right here in the apartment.

"Nope. This isn't a revolver," he replied, "You can't play Russian Roulette with it. This one will go off every time you press the trigger – sometimes more than once."

"You promise?" she asked, pretending to be interested.

"I still have the revolver, though," Jake added, ignoring her fake interest, "that is, if you want to."

"Well, if you want to, I'm willing," said Béla. 'This is getting nowhere!' she thought to herself.

"Okay," Jake said, starting to get up.

"I thought," Béla interrupted, "that we might go hunting up on the mesa behind the cabin on Saturday. To try out your new gun. Remember? I promised you another game of Target ... for your birthday?"

Jake stopped in his tracks. 'Why would she want to go back there?'

He amended his thought to, 'Why would she want to go back there, armed?'

"Sure," he said. "Do you still want to play roulette?"

"Do you have a silencer for your revolver?" she asked him.

"Well, no, but it doesn't make much noise in there," he replied, indicating her lower half.

"No," she said, "But I do. We should think of the neighbors."

"We could gag you," Jake suggested, then changed his mind as Béla glared at him. She liked being held down and gang raped, but she didn't like being tied up.

"I have an idea," she continued, "Let's go to the Target Room. It's soundproof."

"There'll be people there," Jake said. "I know it's a weeknight, but if someone sees you there, they'll want to take you into the Target Room themselves."

"Crap!" she said. Now that she was aroused, she wanted to do something. "Too bad it's not Friday..."

Jake laid the gun down on a table and turned toward the kitchen. Smiling to herself, Béla stripped off her slacks and top, threw them on the bed and followed, half skipping, into the kitchen, certain that Jake had a plan.

Jake was searching through kitchen drawers when she entered. He looked up at her bouncy, naked figure.

"Wow! That was fast," he stated.

"Yep!" Béla replied, "Fast. That's me!" Then she noticed what he was doing and went over, leaning her bare tits against his shirt.

"What'cha lookin' fer, doc?" Béla asked, in a childish voice.

"Did you like the last time?" Jake asked, referring to when he had used a carving knife and the little steak knife on her.

"Sure," she replied, "but if we do that very often, we're gonna run out of kitchen utensils, ya know? I digested that carving knife."

She leaned her head on his arm and looked up into his face. Jake felt a familiar weakness in his stomach and knees. He turned toward her and hugged her naked body against him. He kissed her hard, mashing her lips against her teeth.

After a long moment, he released her and gasped, "I love you!" his voice raw with emotion.

Tears sprang into Béla's eyes. She backed away, shaking her head slowly, her face a mask of despair. Jake's heart sank. He knew what she was going to say. She surprised him, completely.

"No ... Please ... Jake?" she said, her voice shook unevenly. "Don't love me. You're only in my life for a few minutes. Please, help me get through this as easy as possible." Tears ran down her cheeks.

Jake looked at her, stunned. He had thought about her unusual life span mostly in abstract terms, not emotional ones. He thought of the old man in the gun shop, and only now realized that the old man had loved her, too.

A lifetime ago for him, it was only moments ago for her.

They stood in the kitchen for some time, silently holding each other in their arms, then finally went back into the bedroom.

"You didn't bring anything with you?" Béla asked.

Jake looked at her.

"To use on me?" she clarified.

Jake frowned. "Do I have to use something on you every time?" he asked, wondering just how much she actually needed him, as opposed to just needing someone to shove sharp objects into her. After all, she never said she loved him back.

"No," Béla said, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging against him so that he couldn't look at her. "Of course not."

She rubbed her tits against his chest to distract him, idly noticing how much more hair he had on his chest than others she'd known in her past.

'He said he loves me, ' she thought to herself, still mildly shocked. 'God, I hate that word. It's what makes life so hard. Loving ... leaving ... longing. So many terrible words starting with 'L' in this stupid tongue... '

She pressed her lips against him more passionately, hoping to drive those feelings out of her mind. What she wanted now was sex, not love. Love was something she never wanted, but sometimes it found her anyway, and when it did, it always made her miserable.

Jake wasn't surprised at her aggressiveness. Béla was always aggressive. But tonight, she was intense about it. He realized that the demon she was trying to drive away was him, or more likely, her love for him. At least he hoped so. And he ardently hoped she'd fail...

Béla pulled Jake down on the bed, not even slowing down to mess with his belt – just ignoring it instead, and yanking his pants down off his hips.

"Hey-hey, slow down, babe," Jake admonished her. "We're not going anywhere tonight."

Béla stopped completely and looked up at him. He couldn't decipher the look on her face. It was like she was a stranger. When she looked up at him, he didn't see love or affection in her eyes. He saw fear and uncertainty.

"I don't want you to miss me," Béla whispered. There were tears in her eyes now.

"What?" Jake asked, concerned. "I don't understand."

"I won't always be with you," she explained. "I don't usually spend more than a decade or so in one place. When people start asking questions, I leave. One day I'll leave you. I don't want you to miss me, like ... like Joseph..."

Jake noticed her swallow a couple of times. 'She's really upset, ' he realized.

"I'm afraid that's out of your control," Jake said, sitting down on the bed beside her. "Cause I will. I'll miss you a lot.

"Besides," he continued. "What about Frank? He says he's known you for more than thirty years. You haven't left him."

Béla laughed quietly and sadly to herself. "Yes I have. Several times, in fact. He always finds me, though."

"So will I," Jake said. "I'll follow you until I..."

"No!" Béla cried out. "I know it'll happen! You don't need to tell me!

"But there'll come a day," she whispered, remembering her nightmare omen, "a day when it'll be me that leaves someone to go on living, a day when I will end."