Pure Morning

[Morgenrot]

by

Tanja Heitmann

Excerpt translated by Hilary Schmitt-Thomas

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München

a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
Prolog

In the Middle of the Night

The glass entrance door swung open and let in a stream of fresh night air that brushed against
Lea's bare arms - refreshingly cool, for the air in the crowded bar was stuffy and heavy with
tobacco smoke. As it was, Lea was already feeling flushed from the rosé wine in the
condensation-covered glass; her cheeks were glowing and a drop of sweat was slowly making
its zigzag way down her cleavage until it tickled the skin between her breasts. Lea again
pressed the burning palms of her hands onto the leather of the armchair, but the cool material
provided little relief.
Yet Lea did not find the heat unpleasant. All the people sitting shoulder to shoulder or
crowding round the bar, the babble of voices, the throbbing beat of the background music, the
indirect light making everything look soft, almost hazy – all this was shrouding her senses in
velvety cloths.
Her friend Nadine was making her way through the crowd, and Lea smiled and waved to her.
Nadine smiled back but then stopped in the middle of the crowd. A man having a lively
conversation with some friends seemed to have caught her attention.
Lea had to crane her neck in order to see better, and what she saw made her inwardly chuckle.
The blond man Nadine was in the process of scrutinising, centimetre for centimetre, was at
the most in his early twenties and what made him stand out more than anything else were his
broad shoulders. Nadine sniffed uninhibitedly at the nape of his neck; then she threw Lea a
meaningful look and let her tongue dance over her lips. While Lea was watching her friend's
audacity in amusement, Nadine suddenly bent forward and really did lick the naked skin of
her victim. Then she abruptly turned round and came over to where Lea was sitting, leaving
behind her a group of young men gazing after her open-mouthed.
Nadine gave Lea a kiss on her cheek as a greeting and sat down besides her.
"What was going on there?" asked Lea. But she was unable to make herself sound as strict as
she thought appropriate. She was feeling surprisingly good this evening and was even finding
her friend's macho behaviour, which she usually objected to, entertaining.
Nadine seemed to guess her mood, for she bent over towards her and said with an
exaggeratedly sensuous voice, stressing every word, "I … love … fresh … meat."
Lea laughed and shook her head and brushed her dark hair behind her ear with her hand. Just
now she was finding it easy to let herself go. All she wanted to do was to lean back, smile
nicely at no one in particular and order another glass of rosé. In spite of this, she felt an inner
unease, a warning signal somewhere in the background. It was scarcely discernable, but it was
enough to make Lea inspect unknown faces instead of relaxing and just letting her eyes roam.
Nadine had once compared Lea's need to always keep an eye on her surroundings and
immediately assess everything and everyone with the Terminator. "I could swear there is even
a tiny little red light shining behind your irises", Nadine had said in that challenging way of
hers, circling a finger right in front of Lea's eyes. "That explains why you are always so
terribly self-controlled and like nothing better than sitting in front of your computer from
morning to night. You're a robot that has been put into a woman's body. The only thing is that
this robot hasn't a clue what to do with its nice cover."
Instead of joining in the banter as she usually did, Lea had just blinked as if caught out.
Nadine's comparison was worryingly precise. As soon as Lea left the safety of her apartment
or the publishing house, her brain started functioning just like robot: all available data were

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München 1

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immediately assessed, while a light blinking every second signalised that everything was ok.
Sometimes a red light went on when her eyes suddenly saw a man moving casually and
somebody unexpectedly touched her. Then she involuntarily held her breath until her common
sense relieved the tension by telling her "error message". In all these years she had got used to
freezing with fear several times every day.
This evening was the first time for a long time that Lea had managed to shut out the sensitive
search grid in her head. But now her attentiveness was gradually returning, destroying her
feeling of being part of the intoxicated and flirtatious crowd. She became Lea again, who only
felt safe in public places when she could keep an eye on all escape routes – the Lea who for
years simply had to have everything under control.
Her fingers touched the red scars on her cheek. It looked as if she had been brushed by a
shower of flying sparks. The scars were already beginning to get paler and could only be seen
under the carefully applied makeup on closer inspection, but her fingertips had gone over
them so often that they knew every hollow.
Lea felt a wave of bitterness, but shook it off with a sigh. What good were such thoughts?
After all, she had never been one of those raptly partying creatures who were able to
concentrate completely on one moment – never mind Terminator radar.
The special charm that allowed you to dance on tables and flirt – this was something Lea just
didn't have. And this was why she had resigned herself to being dammed to eternal vigilance
that robbed her of any happy-go-luckiness.
Well, perhaps not quite, for there were still a few unflagging areas within her that rebelled and
tried to lead Lea into temptation: I have had an exhausting and successful week at work,
thought Lea. After that fantastic deal I deserve some pleasure. This bar is such a pulsating and
exciting place. Lea was surprised to discover how, at this thought, the muscles in her back
relaxed. She felt so encouraged that she carried on spinning the thought: And this evening
good old Nadine is particularly delightful. On no account must I put a spoke in her wheel by
just sipping at my wine and making off after ten minutes on some weak pretence. She really
hasn't deserved to be treated like that after always being so patient with me.
Lea resolutely swallowed the last drop of rosé and ordered another from the decidedly
attractive waiter. The old familiar fear briefly reared its head, but she squashed it down again.
She was going to have a good time, chat with her friend and laugh. Period.
Very casually, Lea took hold of the full wineglass and gave the waiter a huge smile, only then
to cast her eyes to the floor in surprise. Who would have thought that, after such a long time,
she would be capable of such a thing? If she had kept up this seductive smile only a second
longer, then this waiter, whose buttocks had been given at least one admiring glance by all the
female guests, would have ended up dropping down at her feet.
In confusion Lea turned to Nadine, who also seemed astonished but had herself under control
more quickly. "My dearest Lea", said Nadine with a suggestive smile, "that really was worth
seeing. How often did you practice that in front of a mirror?"
"Not once", laughed Lea, raising her glass to her friend.
The wine bubbled on her tongue and a contented smile spread over Lea's face. Time flew as
she noticeably became more relaxed while she listened to her friend's chatter – until it all
suddenly halted. It was a while before Lea, in her inertia, realised that Nadine had stopped
talking. She curiously scrutinized Nadine's face, which was gleaming with excitement: her red
lips were closed tight with tension and slightly trembling, and her whole body, which in any
case always radiated energy, was vibrating with tension. As yet, the prey was still only under

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München 2

a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
observation, but Nadine was going to jump up any minute now and mercilessly go into the
attack.
"He's been looking in our direction for quite a while now", said Nadine, confirming Lea's
suspicion. Nadine's voice had gone hoarse and the individual words could hardly be heard for
the noise in the bar. "Well, he's quite tall. Nice suit, super physique and a classical face with
remarkably handsome features. Unfortunately he's combed his hair back … I'm not sure, is it
dark blond? Anyway, it's slightly wavy. I don't know how best to put it – the man is a walking
climax." The whole time Nadine was talking, she was looking at the object of her desire.
"Goodness, what a powerful expression on his face – I'd buy a round for everybody here in
the bar, I would, just to be able to read his thoughts. I bet it's something naughty."
Lea couldn't stop herself from giggling drunkenly – that handsome man didn't have a chance.
Although she had never actually seen Nadine on a manhunt, for she always left parties early,
she had already heard some stories about her friend on the prowl. After all, Nadine had never
made a secret of her needs.
"Just do me a favour and give him the once-over", said Nadine. "I'd so like to hear what you
think before I make my way over to the bar: is he every woman's dream or a habitual sex-
sinner?"
Lea did as she was bid and let her eyes wander through the crowd, but although there she
noticed a number of good-looking men, there weren't any matching Nadine's description. Just
as she was about to ask Nadine for better coordinates, her eyes caught someone else's. Within
a fraction of a second, Lea's alarm system had switched to red. Her stomach muscles
contracted painfully. Her lungs went on strike as if she had been dealt a murderous blow.
Lea returned the look long enough to discover that it belonged to a man standing near the bar.
She dropped her head with a jolt. Panic spread through her very being and turned on the
levers in her head. Nadine's chatter next to her became a monotonous murmur. The wine was
climbing threateningly up her throat. Her hands, which were luckily hidden under the table,
started to flutter like the wings of a butterfly. Her face was a white as a sheet, and even her
lips had lost their colour.
Escape was unthinkable. Even if Lea had had her body under control, a crowded room was a
hundred times preferable to the dark night road outside with nobody in it because of the frosty
November weather.
As Lea heard herself gasping for air, Nadine, whose voice had begun to sound nervous, was
trying to attract her attention. But Lea was not prepared to give her attention to anyone in this
room. The fear that had taken hold of her soul and her body with an iron grip was threatening
to destroy her.
With enormous willpower she managed to think over what she had just seen. A pair of eyes,
no more – no, not even that. Only an expression she thought she could remember. Should she
risk another look? Perhaps she had been mistaken? After all, how often had that happened in
the last few years? All she had to do was look up and realise she had made a mistake. Then
her internal warning system would end the state of emergency. But Lea instinctively felt that
this time it was different. This time, while the panic was continuing to paralyse her whole
body, she felt the old familiar tingling and ache beginning to spread from her stomach. The
unmistakable sign that he really was near her.
I'm lost!
The thought burned itself into Lea's consciousness and awoke in her the memory of the frenzy
of love that had preceded the fear. I can't go through that again. I must do something

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München 3

a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
immediately, get moving, scream … anything! What on earth shall I do? Lea's thoughts were
going round in circles, until the decision was taken from her.
When the dark figure appeared near her, Lea clenched her teeth until her jaws ached. There
was sweat all over her forehead, but she was incapable of lifting a hand to wipe it away. Out
of the corner of her eye she could see he was standing only the width of a hand away from
her. A part of her she had learned to hate longed to bridge this gap.
"Nice to see you again", he said in his bewitching voice.

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München 4

a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
East Wind
Although it was still early afternoon, it had already been dusky for a few hours. Relentlessly
and without warning everything was enveloped in darkness. There was no gentle transition
from day to night in these easterly regions, encouraging people to quicken their step and hurry
home. Neither could the moribund network of street lighting stop the growing hunger of the
dark. Each day a little more of the span of dreary daylight collapsed, but nobody in this town
seemed the least bit interested in adjusting the lights to the changing situation. People seemed
to prefer to stumble through the gloomy streets between the high-rise buildings and break
their necks in a snowdrift.
When Lea first lifted her eyes from the book she had been annotating all afternoon, she
looked at a black window reflecting the light of her reading lamp. She blinked in
bewilderment, for only a few moments ago she had been able to see the outline of the building
opposite. Suppressing a yawn, Lea rubbed her neck. She was probably the only person in this
city who kept being confused by sitting in the centre of the city surrounded by wide streets
and buildings more than ten stories high and being able to see only fuzzy spots of light –
lamps and candles behind orangey brown curtains and the occasional flash of car lights in the
streets far below.
At the moment, steady snow fall was also blocking the view of the stars and half-moon. Lea
watched the fluffy snowflakes dancing downwards, then she opened the only window in her
room a fraction and carefully groped for the hook on the outside wall. Her fingers
immediately started to tingle with cold, and she was glad that the she was quickly able to
undo the icily stiff knot of the rope at the end of which there hung a bag. She fished out a
piece of cheese wrapped in wax paper and a plastic bottle of frozen milk.
As cold as it was outside, the air in her room was boiling. The caretaker, lord over the central
heating and himself resident in one of the numberless holes that passed as apartments,
obviously liked it to be sudorifically hot. And so it had come about that Lea, dressed in a
sleeveless top and pyjama trousers, was sitting on the musty-smelling floor and reading, while
the occasional breeze coming in through the draughty windows touched her shoulders. She
had by now got used to the fact that her cheeks continually smarted from the dry air and that
at night she would wake up convinced she had fallen asleep in the sauna.
When she had told her college friend Marla about it on the telephone, the latter had only said
dryly, "That's what you wanted. Why waste time in Paris or Stockholm when you can go and
explore virgin territory. Those were your very words, weren't they? And when I warned you,
all you said was that you liked a challenge. So make the most of it."
Lea had had trouble in not saying something bitchy in reply, but it had undeniably hurt her
that her friend had not shown the slightest sympathy for her. "This city and its people are
really getting me down", she had said in the hope of enticing a few words of comfort from
Marla.
But Marla had shown no mercy. "You never have been particularly interested in your
surroundings. Of all the people I know in the field of literature, you are the one who lives
most in the world of books. Anyone wanting you to take notice of them has to write a short
story about themselves."
"Perhaps, but …" Lea had stuttered in reply. "But the people here are also so different. I just
don't understand the rules, quite apart from the language problems. Not one of the travel
guides says anything about how strange everything here is."
"You are just not used to mixing with other people. Now at last you're being forced to go out
and see what life has to offer." At this point Lea had snorted indignantly, but Marla was not to

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München 5

a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
be stopped all that easily. "You should see your sojourn at the end of the world as an
opportunity for you to actually get involved with other people and not just live side by side
with them - as you have always ever done, Lea."
At that, Lea had muttered a brief farewell and not spoken to her since. What her friend had
said had hurt her more than she liked to admit. Lea was really a young woman who could very
well fend for herself – after all, she had had to learn to do so early enough. But being told off
in this way in such an oppressive situation was something she was not prepared to put up
with.
In spite of everything, Lea liked the room she had been given while she was here on a
scholarship. It may have been no larger than a broom cupboard and with the strange charm
surrounding decay, but it was nevertheless her own little nest in this odd city which refused to
open itself to her.
While she was chewing her cheese sandwich, swilling down the dry crumbs with tea because
the milk had not thawed, she listened to the sounds in the building not drowned by the
gurgling and knocking coming from the radiator. The permanently quarrelling couple above
did not seem to be home yet. The apartment on the left was empty, like so many others in
these squalid concrete living quarters. There were noises of someone cooking coming through
the thin wall on the right, with someone clattering metal kitchenware and the radio playing
popular music. Outside, the typical mixture of traffic, people chatting and yet more popular
music wafted up to her. It was a surprisingly quiet evening.
Lea glanced through her notes again and tried to suppress the nervousness that had been
nagging at her for hours. That evening, her literature professor Etienne Carrière had invited
her to one of his discussions on the topic of the heyday of Romanticism, Lea's main focus of
study. During his lectures she had not been able to shine as she would have liked to. Also
Carrière's excellent reputation and her fellow students, who she scarcely understood, had only
increased her apprehension, making her adopt a degree of reserve that was very unlike her.
Luckily, however, she had managed to attract the professor's attention and been given an
invitation.
The best thing to do, Lea told herself, would be to kill the remaining time elsewhere. As it
was, she was so much on tenterhooks that she could not endure being here in her ten-square-
metre large incubator any longer. It made little difference whether her cheeks tingled from the
heat or froze from the icy wind.
A few minutes later, with her parka and her long knitted scarf tucked under her arm, she was
hurrying through the dimly-lit corridor which, in defiance of all common sense, was carpeted.
Decades of slushy snow had formed a black path along the middle of the carpet, which made
a squelching noise with every step. There was an unpleasant smell of mould and moss. It
would not have particularly surprised Lea to see ferns growing in the corners. She looked
sceptically at the lift at the end of the passageway before racing down the stairs. She preferred
to run down the eleven stories than entrust herself to this ailing monster.
When she reached the road, the east wind conquered every millimetre of her skin before she
was able to wind her scarf round her neck, almost making her turn back. What devil had made
her apply for a term in this icy cave?, she wondered, as she had so many times before.
She uncertainly avoided the dirty grey heaps of snow, glad that at least some of the street
lamps were on and shedding a dim light on the pavement. The snow was falling less heavily
as Lea, for the umpteenth time, almost walked past the inconspicuous entrance to the
underground station. It always made her wonder whether the station name plate had been
pinched or perhaps never been hung up.

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The steps down to the platform were so icy and slippery that Lea was forced to hang on to the
banister with stiff fingers while her feet in their lined boots tried to get a hold on the slippery
ground. People dressed in heavy coats and fur hats were hurrying past her and looking at her
in amusement. In contrast to her, even warmly wrapped-up grannies were skipping elegantly
over the icy ground.
A few minutes later Lea was sitting in the unheated tube train, watching three young women
who were sitting opposite her and rhythmically chewing gum. They were all wearing white
boots and short skirts, their legs covered only in thin nylons. Neither did they have woollen
hats on top of their complicated hairdos, and their short jackets were casually unzipped.
Lea was so absorbed by the sight of this total resistance to the cold that she did not notice one
of the women looking disparagingly at her. When she finally sharply addressed Lea, the latter
gave a guilty start. In spite of a two-week intensive course, Lea understood not one word. She
watched in concentration the lips of the young woman, who obviously found this even ruder
than being stared at, for she simply threw the screwed-up chewing gum paper at her.
"Oh, thanks a lot", said Lea and made sure she left the train as quickly as she could at the next
stop, leaving the loudly swearing and laughing women behind.
She found herself in a deserted station the nameplate of which could not be read for dirt. No
one apart from her seemed to have strayed onto the narrow platform, although at this time of
day there were still a lot of people about. Her eyes found nothing to occupy themselves, and
so her thoughts wandered back to what she had just experienced. It made her feel very
embarrassed; Lea had not expected to be caught at watching the women. She did not normally
pay much attention to other people; her own outlook on life was to blame for this, for Lea had
always been mainly interested in books – books could be read, people couldn't.
Her mother had always said Lea had a strong and interesting personality but still had to
discover this for herself. But her chain-smoking mother had also said that only other people
got lung cancer. Lea, on the other hand, was convinced she did not send out any signals that
encouraged other people to give her a second look. It was like an unspoken agreement: I don't
notice you, you don't notice me. So far she had got through life very well with it, apart from
the fact that her friends could be counted on one hand.
But here, in these unfamiliar surroundings, Lea suddenly stuck out like a sore thumb, which
she found most unpleasant. Going shopping at the baker's had become a farce because she did
not understand the customs here – should she stand in line or should she push to the front? -
point to what she wanted or try to say it, even though she could not pronounce it properly? By
now Lea was sure that she could well do without drawing attention to herself. If attention
meant being a walking target for chewing gum paper, then she'd rather lead a shadow
existence any day.
A train roaring past interrupted her thoughts and made her have a closer look at where she
was. Just as she had discovered a plan of the city behind a steamed-up sheet of Plexiglas, the
sparse lighting over her head began to flicker. A wave of panic wrapped itself around her, and
she was certain she would be plunged into total darkness because the electricity network had
broken down yet again. The very thought of that happening here, in a tube station that was
like the catacombs and where you could not see your own hand, made her want to scream. But
then, after flickering again and buzzing a little, the lights calmed down.
Lea looked quickly at the plan of the city to discover that she was very near Professor
Carrière's house. She had originally intended to spend the remaining waiting time in the
central library. However, the idea of having to wait in this draughty tunnel with its flickering
lights only a minute longer for the next train made her change her plans. She would have to
walk a short distance and then … How impolite would it be to arrive an hour too early for an

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a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
appointment? Never mind, she consoled herself, she'd be sure to think of some excuse while
walking there.

When she arrived at her host's grandly lit house, she still had not thought of a sensible-
sounding excuse. Feeling a little lost, Lea stood still and tried to collect her wits.
The extreme contrasts in this city still took her breath away: the vast high-rise ghetto gave
way smoothly to the narrow strip of imposing buildings that had escaped the hail of bombs
from the wars. Yet only a few streets away, these architectural jewels were fenced in by a
chaos of flyovers and industrial sheds and huts. A large part of the city consisted of weather-
beaten concrete and asphalt crumbling from the effect of the frost. Although most of the
buildings were only a few decades old, they already looked ready to be pulled down. Whereas
the old quarters were having a renaissance, a lot of the apartments in the tenement blocks
were empty, and during the long winter nights their blind windows caught the eye. The edges
of the city were littered with a few abandoned sheds and cannibalised car wrecks along the
sides of the road. Behind that was the forest. Not a cultivated forest that had enjoyed years of
care, such as Lea knew and loved from home, and whose network of paths were an invitation
to Sunday afternoon walks or cycle tours. No, this forest had nothing in common with a well-
tended recreation area.
Lea had travelled through it when she first came here by train, and when she had seen it she
had first had this feeling of unease that had not left her since. It was an army of mighty
conifers effortlessly bearing the weight of all the snow. In spring, the forest floor would
certainly not be covered by a mass of tiny flowers, for the simple reason that not one ray of
sunlight found its way through the impenetrable cover of branches. If people here even know
such a thing as sunshine, Lea had thought, while this view of the forest had almost made her
freeze with fear.
The view of Professor Carrière's beautiful old house made up for some of the gloomy
impressions of the previous weeks. The extravagant stucco façade had been renovated with a
great love of detail, the colours were cheerful, and there was not even a scratch in the dark red
paint on the obviously ancient wooden front door. It was a detached house standing invitingly
close to the street, with only a delicate wrought-iron fence and few snow-covered
rhododendrons separating the two. Lela unfortunately could not peep inside any of the rooms
because all the curtains were drawn. But there was a gentle light shining through the fabric
which seemed to be inviting her in. The muted sound of a piano apparently coming from one
of the upstairs rooms also strongly attracted her.
Nevertheless Lea just stood there, trying to ignore her gradually stiffening toes. She was still
hoping that another of her fellow-students would also appear on the scene disrespectfully
early. Such tactlessness would be easier to bear if there were two of them. Another bitterly
cold gust of wind blowing her hair into her face convinced her that it was hardly possible to
hang around any more outside.
With a sigh, Lea pulled the shiny brass cord next to the door, at which a muffled bell could be
heard ringing inside the house. After a while, just as Lea was about to ring a second time, the
door opened a crack. An elderly woman dressed in black greeted her in the local language,
giving Lea the impression that this was a servant.
Aware the woman's critical eyes, Lea introduced herself, adding remorsefully, "I'm a little
early". For a moment she feared she would not be allowed in. But then the women with the
decidedly sullen face hesitantly stepped aside. She took Lea's coat and scarf and Lea took off
her wet boots, and then they both went up some stairs covered in an oriental carpet.

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Lea would have loved to spend more time here to have a closer look at the lavishly decorated
walls and the many bookshelves in the upper floor. But before she knew what was happening,
the older woman had steered her into a room, muttering a few incomprehensible sentences
Lea, with the best will in the world, was unable to understand. Lea was just about to throw a
questioning look over her shoulder, but the door was already closed again and she found
herself alone in a drawing room.
All of a sudden she felt she had been caught and instinctively had the urge to try the door
handle. But that's ridiculous, she said to herself, but was unable to shake off her apprehension.
Ignoring the prickle at the back of her neck, she turned away from the door. With every step
she took towards the middle of the room, she sank more and more in the beauty of the salon,
and her inexplicable attack of fear disappeared.
Cobalt blue curtains shut out the night, and the dark red silk covering the walls shimmered in
the light of a fire in the hearth. Lea rubbed her toes with delight over the Persian carpet
covering most of the polished wooden floor. A cherrywood bookcase dominated the room,
and its exhibits were lit up by lamps. There was antique furniture everywhere – dainty sofas
just big enough for two people; ornate chairs and tables laden with silver-framed pictures,
porcelain figures and other fanciful objects. Lea briefly saw her narrow face reflected in a
mirror with a gold-leaf frame before looking away quickly because she did not like her
slightly lost expression.
In a corner, Lea finally discovered the piano she had heard out in the street and the lid of
which was still invitingly open. She was just thinking of looking at the sheets of music when
the lights went out. Power failure number four today, thought Lea and added it to her mental
checklist. How on earth can a country function when everything keeps being switched off?
The fire in the hearth was pleasantly warm and gave off a little light. In recent weeks Lea had
sat in the dark in decidedly less pleasant situations, so that after the initial fright she was able
to relax. This was much more agreeable than the draughty tunnel – these little things were
sent to try us.
Lea was wondering whether to go over to one of the sofas by the fireside when in the opposite
corner of the room a candle suddenly flared up. She again immediately had that uneasy
feeling of being trapped. Her eyes wide open, Lea stared at a man who blew out a match and
then, with a candleholder in his hand, came towards her. As the light fell on him, the feeling
of unease gave way to a completely different kind of fascination: the man was breathtakingly
handsome. A tall, slender figure with an almost unreal classical face and hair falling gently
over his forehead and into the nape of his neck. He stopped a short distance away from her,
and Lea saw that his hair was the colour of dark honey.
There was also something more hanging in the air, something that made Lea forget the man's
beauty – something that touched her and slipped away from her common sense like a sound
floating on the wind. It was a feeling as if someone were saying the right lines and although
you did not understand them you still knew they were true. This man was like a secret word
meant only for Lea.
Lea stared at him in utter fascination and almost gave into the temptation to touch him – when
she noticed his mocking smile. This broke the spell and she lowered her eyes to the floor in
embarrassment. She had been examining the contents of the interior of the drawing room for
several minutes without noticing the presence of somebody else, and hardly had this person
drawn attention to himself than she gobbled him up with her eyes.
"I hope you like what you can see?" asked the man, fortunately in a language Lea could
understand. And so the ambiguity of his question did not escape her notice. To cap it all, his

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voice matched the general picture: melodious and ever so slightly smoky. Lea was still so
spellbound that all she could was sigh.
"Etienne has put a lot of effort into renovating the house. I can well understand the expression
of delight on your face", he said, putting the candlestick down on the piano. As he sat down
on the stool in front of it, he indicated to Lea that she should sit down on the sofa. She stiffly
did as she was bid although she was afraid that if she was too close to him she would lose her
self-control and jump onto his knee. It seemed almost unreal to her that they were sitting
together by the light of a candle.
"I suspect you are not from here?" he asked in a tone as if they were making small talk at a
cocktail party.
"No", replied Lea in an unpleasantly high voice. "I'm from somewhere else."
After this highlight in the art of conversation there was a silence that made Lea aware of her
awkwardness. It had never before bothered her that she was not one of the great seductresses
of her sex. But being such a failure with a man who was quite simply stunning was more than
she could bear.
Feeling utterly wretched, she huddled up on the sofa, while the minutes stretched out like
hours. Her eyes were fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth and her ears pricked so that
she would not miss the slightest movement the man made. The situation was so confusing that
she would not have been surprised if he turned out to be Fata Morgana. If she were to look
over at the piano, there would sure to be a trace of angel dust on the stool, she thought to
cheer herself up. But she did not dare to look up from the fire.
At that moment, just as all the lights suddenly went on again, the door swung open and
Professor Carrière came in with a crowd of students who looked round the drawing room in
surprise. One of them was Jazna, who Lea had often spoken to after the lectures. She had
made Jazna a compliment about her long hair, after which the ice had quickly been broken.
They had even met for coffee to chat about university matters. But now the young woman's
eyes just passed over her and she did not even have time for a quick nod, for all her attention
was concentrated on the man at the piano. Eh, look at that, thought Lea. He obviously doesn't
only have this effect on me.
Lea had no time for further thought, for Professor Carrière strode cheerfully up to her with his
hand stretched out. She stood up as if in slow motion, the excited voices of the group ringing
in her ears.
"My dear", said Professor Carrière in the sing-song voice so typical of him and shook her
hand. "Aren't all these power failures bizarre?" As always, his elegant appearance made her
paralysed with respect, and the whole spell dissolved. She was back in the world of the
university and study.
In spite of his impressive height, Professor Carrière was of dainty stature, and typical of his
movements was a strange mixture of gracefulness and tenacity Lea had only ever noticed
before with passionate dancers. His short hair, ascetic face and unobtrusive style of dressing
fitted the general impression.
Professor Carrière, who was an extremely polite and pleasant person, was treated with respect
by everybody. His friendliness could not hide the fact that this was a highly educated and
strong-willed man. Lea knew every one of his publications and knew only too well that
Professor Carrière was a brilliant literary scholar. The man was more than enthusiastic about
everything he did – both as a scholar and as a lecturer. After all, he was the main reason why
Lea had decided on this very untypical university.

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München 10

a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
Lea appreciated Professor Carrière's friendliness and held his knowledge of his subject in high
esteem, but there was something else that fascinated her. She normally kept her distance to
her lecturers, but Professor Carrière showed so much personal interest in each and every one
of his students that it was impossible to avoid him. So Lea forced herself to smile as she
greeted him.
"Has Adam been looking after you well?" asked Professor Carrière, indicating the taciturn
man who had just turned Lea's world upside down. When Lea's half-hearted smile started
slipping, he nodded knowingly. "Probably not, knowing him. You could at least have played
the young lady something on the piano if you think conversation is unnecessary", he said,
turning to the young man, who had still not moved. "You have to know that Adam is a terrible
person, my dear Lea. A cynic of the worst kind. He matches the weather in these parts
excellently, which is probably why he has been availing himself of my hospitality for half an
eternity."
Something in Professor Carrière's voice made it clear that his criticism of Adam was not
meant to be taken seriously, and so it was hardly surprising that only a low laugh came from
the direction of the piano, making Lea's stomach loop the loop perfectly.

The group had placed chairs in a semicircle round the fire, and the discussion was in full
swing. The colloquium was attempting to get to the bottom of the whole concept of
Romanticism, but more than that each of the students was trying to make a good impression
on Professor Carrière. Just as Lea had done, they had all prepared themselves well for this
evening, which Professor Carrière called an "informal gathering". On the other hand, it was
clear that anyone not performing intellectually brilliantly on this occasion need not expect
another invitation.
Lea had long since resigned herself to the fact that she would never again set foot in this
house. Since meeting Adam, she had hardly made a contribution to the demanding and
challenging discussion. She was still preoccupied with this man's attraction for her, not to
mention her pitiful failure to get him to be the slightest bit interested in her. And so it came
about that instead of displaying her profound knowledge of Romanticism, she was busy trying
not to forget to breathe. It was only the polite tone in this gathering that had prevented her
lack of participation from having her thrown out of the room.
Jazna, who seemed to have succeeded in escaping from Adam's attraction as soon as her
university career was at stake, occasionally threw a questioning look at her. She mouthed the
words, "What's the matter?" But all Lea could do was shake her head. She didn't know the
answer herself.
Adam was roaming round somewhere in the depths of the room. Lea sometimes thought she
heard the curtains rustling as if he were watching the snow falling. Professor Carrière had
invited him to join them, but all he had done was give a bored "perhaps later" in reply. It was
driving Lea crazy that he would not leave the room; and unless she was very much mistaken,
it was the same with Professor Carrière, for with a hint of irritation in his face he kept looking
round the room.
"The question about the soul is surely of great importance, or what do you think?" Professor
Carrière had directed his question at Lea.
Startled, Lea searched her memory for a suitable reply. "In Romanticism, the mysterious path
leads to the inner being", she began, while still sorting out her thoughts. "Painting shows that
very nicely. The artist feels his work within him. At least that's what Caspar David Friedrich

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München 11

a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
said, whose painting The Monk by the Sea is perhaps the best well-known picture of
Romanticism."
Before Lea was able to continue, she was interrupted by Boris, whose permanently aggressive
tone aimed at suggesting that Lea was wrong and he was in any case right. For Boris was
always right. "I don't think much of mixing the arts when we are talking about definitions", he
said a tad too loudly, gesticulating wildly to emphasize his message. "Literature can't be
explained with painting. Why bother to make definitions if you can explain everything with
everything?"
Lea was just about to contradict him when, behind her, Adam's rich voice said, "Anyone
interested in the spirit of Romanticism would probably find it difficult to draw clear
boundaries. The Monk by the Sea is a wonderful example. You could even say it almost
contains everything that goes to make up Romanticism."
Lea turned round in confusion and looked Adam straight in the eye. His eyes were the narrow
eyes of a cat, surrounded by eyelashes and with dark green irises. Like a lake shaded by trees,
she thought dreamily, while her university-trained tongue asked, "Why only almost?"
Adam looked straight at her and the amused smile disappeared abruptly from his face.
"Because it only hints at dark desire."

© 2008 by Wilhelm Heyne Verlag, München 12

a division of Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH, Munich Germany
UNVERKÄUFLICHE LESEPROBE

Tanja Heitmann
Morgenrot
Roman

Gebundenes Buch mit Schutzumschlag, 480 Seiten, 13,5 x 21,5 cm

ISBN: 978-3-453-26605-6

Heyne

Erscheinungstermin: September 2008

Kann man einen Vampir lieben?

Als die junge Studentin Lea in der Villa ihres Professors auf Adam trifft, ist sie vom ersten
Augenblick an gebannt. Adam ist unwirklich schön, schweigsam – und er hat ein tödliches
Geheimnis: Er ist von einem Dämon besessen, der ihn dazu zwingt, Lea auf die dunkle Seite
zu ziehen. Doch mit aller Macht kämpft er dagegen an. Denn er liebt Lea. Eine Liebe, in der
ein einziger Kuss alles verändern kann ... Tanja Heitmann ist die Entdeckung der modernen
Mystery!

Für die Studentin Lea beginnt das Auslandssemester alles andere als angenehm. Bei Schneefall
und eisigem Ostwind verbringt die junge Frau einsame Tage. Das ändert sich schlagartig, als
sie in der Villa ihres Professors auf einen rätselhaften und unwirklich schönen Mann trifft: Adam.
Vom ersten Augenblick an ist Lea wie gebannt. Ohne sich dagegen wehren zu können, fühlt
sie sich zu ihm hingezogen. Doch Adam verhält sich seltsam. Mal weist er Lea schroff zurück,
mal sucht er wie getrieben ihre Nähe. Welches Geheimnis sich jedoch wirklich hinter Adams
mysteriösem Verhalten verbirgt, erfährt Lea eines Nachts: Schwer blutend findet sie ihn neben
ihrem Bett vor. Wie ist er in ihr Zimmer gekommen und wieso schließen sich seine Wunden
wie von Geisterhand? Lea erfährt, dass Adam von einem Dämon besessen ist. Dieser Dämon
verleiht ihm Unsterblichkeit, dafür fordert er einen hohen Preis: das Blut anderer Menschen. In
diesem Fall das Blut Leas. Noch kämpft Adam dagegen an, denn er hat sich in Lea verliebt.
Aber der Dämon ist stark – womöglich zu stark ...