Part 4
  “And then you woke up,” Dorian finished his account of the events. He had only told her the essential parts of the story and he hadn’t mentioned the creature for what it was. He merely painted him as a thug, perhaps a rapist.
  “That’s…uhm…thank you.” Confusion brew in her head and she couldn’t grasp the fact that her life might have been in danger. She still had a lot of questions. “You said you couldn’t risk taking me to a hospital. Why?”
  “That is difficult to explain.”
  “Are you running from the police?” she blurted out and regretted it the moment she had said it. If he was he would hardly admit it and he was potentially dangerous.
  “No, but I don’t like attracting attention to myself.” He shrugged. He wished she would be satisfied with that answer but her whole look told him otherwise. She had raised herself into a sitting position.
  “Who are you?” she asked once more but her voice was no longer a whisper.
  “I’m Dorian,” he replied simply.
  “You’ve already said that.” She was beginning to sound annoyed. “Don’t you have a last name?”
  “Grisartre,” he said in a French accent.
  “Are you from France?” Her look was quizzical.
  “No. New Orleans.” His voice hardened as he said it. New Orleans was not a happy place for him and he had no desire of ever returning there.
  “Why are you here?” she continued her questioning.
  “I was thinking of moving here, but now I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
  “Who are you running from?”
  “I’m not running. Every once in a while I just have to move.”
  “OK. You’re apparently not comfortable with telling me, but I promise I won’t call the police. After all, you saved my life tonight.” She looked into his eyes and saw something there which she couldn’t identify.
  Dorian struggled to keep his mind straight. There had been such a long time since he had interacted with someone, much less someone who asked him direct questions and demanded answers. He had no cover story prepared and he felt like a stupid amateur. He wished he could tell her the truth but that would most likely end their conversation forever.
  “It’s better if you don’t know. Things will be easier that way.” He sighed tiredly. “Why don’t I help you get home? Or maybe to the hospital?”
  “You said it yourself, that will attract attention. Unless I lie, but I’m not sure I want to do that. I don’t think I can.” She shook her head.
  “And you shouldn’t. So I take it you want to go home then?” He looked encouragingly at her.
  “I guess so. What time is it?”
  “It’s four in the morning. Should I call you a cab?” He moved towards the phone on the bedside table.
  “At four in the morning in this town, that’s not possible. And even if it were that would raise so many questions. No, I think I’ll walk.” She moved to the side of the bed and put her feet on the floor. Her body screamed in protest as she tried to stand up and she was forced to fall back on to the bed.
  “You’re in no condition to walk. How about I carry you?” He waited while she made up her mind. After a few seconds she nodded her permission for him to lift her up.
  She felt like she was three years old again and being carried inside the house after falling asleep in the car. She gave away to the feeling and relaxed her head on his chest. He was cold and she realised she couldn’t hear his heart beating. Before she could think anymore of it his chest began to vibrate and she realised he was speaking.
  “You will have to give me directions,” he reminded her and she started to think.
  “Do you know the main road?” she asked.
  “Yes.”
  “If you take me there it will be easy. I live on one of the side streets.”
  He was already halfway there by the time she had finished. Liv hadn’t even registered the houses that had flown by.
  When they reached the main road he stopped and she felt it.
  “Turn left and then it’s the third street on the right. It’s house number 34.” She made an attempt to point but the movement sent a shooting pain through her shoulder and she gasped. He noticed and slowed down.
  “Did I hurt you?” he asked worriedly.
  “It was my own fault,” she moaned.
  He picked up the pace again and they moved swiftly up the road to Liv’s street. When they reached number 34 he stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to her door.
  The house was an apartment building with lofts on the outside. There were three floors and he could see shiny brass numbers on each door.
  “What number is yours?”
  “304. It’s on…”
  “…the third floor,” he finished her sentence and started climbing the stairs. She was amazed at how quick and effortless he walked.
  When they reached her door he put her down gently. He supported her as she took out her keys and unlocked the door. He even helped her over the threshold but he never stepped into her apartment.
  “Well, good night Liv.” He bowed subtly.
  “Are you leaving now?” she said almost disappointed.
  “It’s best if I do,” he said without explaining and backed away.
  “Please come in and stay for a while.” Her voice was distressed. “I’m not sure I want to be alone.”