The Blood That Bonds

Chapter 4

Life in Shadow





Curbside. Sometime later.





She felt Theroen’s hand on her shoulder, heard Melissa sigh beside her, felt a cloth cleaning her hands. Two made some sound, pressed herself against Theroen, couldn’t stop crying. He ran a hand through her hair, kissed the top of her head.

“Was it what you thought it would be?” he asked at last.

“No,” she said into his chest, miserable. Theroen waited. At last, Two was able to stop crying. She leaned against Theroen, sniffling, eyes closed. Melissa was still holding her hand.

“What was it then?”

“It was horrible. It was beautiful.”

She didn’t see Melissa glance at Theroen, to exchange with him a tiny smile. Two loosened her grip around Theroen, sitting up and looking at him. “How can someone so awful contain all of that beauty?”

“The blood doesn’t care about the vessel. Some vampires are like vigilantes. They take only from murderers, rapists and the like. Others take only from sixteen-year-old virgins. The truth? It doesn’t matter. The blood is the same regardless.”

Melissa nodded. “It’s why we make our choices the way we do. It’s not worth worrying about. Someone catches my eye, and that’s that. I guess Theroen started you off with this guy because you were already looking for some kind of revenge?”

“Yeah.” Two was trying not to look at Sean’s corpse. Revenge against anyone seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind.

“It doesn’t matter though, Two. You need to learn that. It’s mortal sentiment.”

“Sorry. Never done this before.” Two ran a hand across her eyes. The liquid was pink. She stared at it for a moment, laughed incredulously.

“There is nothing to be sorry for. It is understandable. But as you can see, Two, you are not human anymore.” Theroen stood, glancing toward the body. He reached down and helped Two to her feet. She followed his glance and grimaced.

“I don’t even know why I did … that.” She gestured toward the unbuttoned pants, the piece of meat hanging out of them.

“Part and parcel of the thirst, Two. It’s a desire. A lust. They’re tied together, particularly for those of us lucky enough to retain our sexual capabilities.”

“You’re a natural, to be honest. Not many new vampires could have pulled off simultaneously grilling the guy about his wife and keeping him mesmerized at the same time. Theroen and I were impressed.” Melissa leaned down and, with an air of complete indifference, put the offending item back where it belonged. She hefted the body up on one shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What do we do with that? With him?” The expression on Sean’s face, a mixture of horror and pleasure, made Two queasy. She looked away.

“Good question. After a while, maybe ten, fifteen years, there’s not a ‘that’ to deal with. Eventually you won’t need that much blood,” Melissa said.

“For the Ay’Araf and Burilgi vampire strains, that’s almost immediate. Their fledglings stop needing to kill within a week or two. Ashayt vampires … within a few months. Eresh vampires go into a deeper trance and take much longer to learn how to break it. Years. Melissa still kills sometimes.”

“No. I don’t. She does.” Melissa’s voice was quiet.

“My apologies, Melissa.”

“S’okay. It’s weird, Two, but the stronger we get, the less we need. You’ll learn how to control that mesmerism stuff. Then you can keep them from remembering. They wake up feeling kind of crappy, figure it’s the flu … end of story.”

“You can purposely do that?”

“Oh, sure. One time I was with these two guys and this other girl, and we were all getting pretty into it, you know? And I was all hot and I started biting without even really thinking about it, and then the girl started freaking out, because this guy was, like, dripping blood on her, but he had his eyes closed and thought she was, you know … just getting off. So he keeps right on banging away at her, and I—”

Theroen cleared his throat. “Melissa, do you have any stories that might illustrate your point without requiring a detailed description of your various acts of debauchery?”

Melissa tilted her head, thinking. “No.”

Two laughed. “It’s okay. Sounds sort of fun, before the screaming anyway. But that only tells me what to do with something alive. Sean has, uh … moved on.”

Two tried to feel bad about this, but found herself unable to manufacture any guilt. The truth was simple: this man was as much a killer as she was, and it was difficult to be remorseful about what she had done.

“Well, we could just leave him. The bite marks fade. Abraham says it’s something in our saliva.” Melissa shrugged, an odd gesture with a body slung over her shoulder. “Don’t know. I’m no biologist.”

“There were others in the bar,” Theroen said. “No investigation will find us, but it’s best to take reasonable precautions. We can take him into the woods and bury him.”

“With what?” Two asked.

Theroen and Melissa exchanged another glance.

“You’ll see,” Melissa said, and began moving up the road toward the edge of town.





* * *





The lack of shovels proved to be of little concern. Digging by hand is not, for a vampire, the difficult task that it is for a human being. Fingernails do not break, flesh does not cut or wear, strength does not flag.

Work proceeded rapidly. Melissa chattered away at them. Two and Theroen were mostly silent, half-listening, absorbed in the work.

“This is good for you to learn, anyway, Two. If you ever get caught away from someplace safe, and the sun’s coming up, you can actually dig down and go into the earth if you have to. It’s not the most pleasant way to spend the day, but it works. I had to do it once when I pissed off Theroen and he left me in the city. I was halfway through walking back when I realized that I wasn’t going to make it in time.”

At this, Theroen glanced up. “I have never left you anywhere you did not wish to be left, Melissa.”

A moment’s pause, and she shrugged. “Must be remembering it wrong. Anyway, it’s sort of funny. It’s not really the bugs or worms that bothered me, or even the difficulty breathing. It was the scent. I could smell everything rotting. It was pretty disgusting.”

Melissa stopped working for a minute, a far-off, quizzical expression on her face. “What the hell was I doing out there anyway? I could have sworn we had a fight, Theroen. You don’t remember anything like that?”

Theroen shook his head.

“Guess I’ll have to trust you. You remember everything.”

“Largely, yes. It’s of no real concern, Melissa.”

“I suppose.”

Theroen stood, brushed off the knees of his pants. The hole was done.

Melissa dumped Sean in with no more reverence than if she were a farmer dropping a sack of grain. Two felt as if she should say something, shook it off. Human sentiment. She was no longer human. It was a waste of time, and Theroen and Melissa were no doubt hungry. She joined them, tossing the dirt back over the body with her hands.

Finished. Less than an hour, and they’d managed to camouflage the hole quite well. Two’s watch said it was nearly two in the morning.

“Do you guys need to, uh … eat?”

Theroen grinned. Melissa laughed, brushing her hands together, trying to rid them of dirt.

“Yes,” Theroen said, turning and walking away from the grave. “But that doesn’t have to take long.”

“Ooh, are we going to get to watch the master at work?” Melissa’s voice was merry as they tramped through the woods.

“If you’d like, though I’ve never claimed to have mastered this particular aspect of our lives. We can return to the town.”

“We’re pretty deep into the woods. Should we get the cars?” Two asked. She didn’t really mind one way or the other, but it seemed impractical.

“None of this is, or particularly needs to be, practical, Two,” Theroen said. “It’s for your edification mainly, and now is an opportunity for another lesson. Keep up!”

Theroen turned, grinning, and took off like a shot through the woods, moving faster than seemed possible. Two felt her jaw hanging open, and closed it with a snap. Melissa laughed and ran after Theroen, crying out for Two to follow her. Two took a deep breath, and started to run.





* * *





The sensation was like nothing Two had ever before experienced. She had no idea how fast she was moving, but it seemed faster than even a trained sprinter could accomplish. And such agility! It was as if she ran not through moonlit forest, but on solid pavement. Her feet seemed to cope with the imperfections of the ground by themselves, no longer requiring any conscious effort. Theroen was far ahead, Melissa roughly halfway between him and Two. Both of the older vampires occasionally turned their head back, making sure they hadn’t outdistanced Two.

They reached the outskirts of the town in less than ten minutes, slowing as they approached, and Two found that she wasn’t even winded. Melissa was laughing, the noise pretty and bright in the quiet streets, and Two joined her.

“That was amazing!”

“Only the tip of the iceberg, Two. I’ll take you through a vampire obstacle course sometime. You can’t imagine what it feels like to take a five-story jump.” Melissa sat down on the curb and looked at Theroen. “You find one yet?”

“Yes, that one.” Theroen pointed to a small white ranch home to their left.

“What’s special about that one?” Two was confused.

“When I don’t have the time or inclination to be choosy about my food, I go with something easy to attract. Young women, usually. Normally I would spend some … how should I put it? Quality time with her, and then feed.”

“I’m not sure if that should offend me.” Two was smiling when she said it. Theroen returned the grin.

“Another thing I’ve learned from other vampires: Sex is sex. Love is love. The first is a raw biological process, the latter is something more.”

Two considered this. “But love makes sex something more.”

“Certainly. Which is why the sex without love is merely gratification. Insignificant in its implications. That much more pleasure, in addition to the blood. Sex is sex. Love is love. I love you, Two.”

“Oh, and how many guys would like to be able to say that to their girlfriends, I wonder?” Melissa had taken out a compact and was checking her eye shadow.

Two sat down next to Melissa. “A lot, I think. How many girlfriends would be okay with it? I don’t know. Probably not many.”

“So are you okay with it?”

Two looked at Theroen, who returned her glance with the same cool grin that had so intrigued her on the night she had first met him. She felt herself warming. The memory of Sean was fading, and thoughts of how she might spend the rest of the night were cropping up in her mind. Theroen, sensing this, laughed slightly.

“Yes,” Two said. “I’m okay with it. He just watched me give the world’s deadliest hand-job, after all …”

Melissa burst into surprised laughter before pressing her mouth into one arm to muffle the noise. Theroen shook his head, grinning. Two smiled, stood up, reached out on tiptoe to give Theroen a brief kiss.

“Let’s do this and go,” she said.

Theroen nodded, closed his eyes, breathed deeply. In a moment, the front door of the house opened, and a young woman in her early twenties stepped out onto the porch. She looked around, caught sight of the trio, and made her way toward them. Dark hair, dark eyes, she was generously proportioned under her nightgown. Two felt a momentary twinge of jealousy as the moonlight caught the swell of the girl’s ample breasts, but fought it down.

She stopped in front of them, seeing and not seeing, swaying slightly. Theroen was standing in front of her but off to the left. When he touched her cheek, tilted her head, moved the hair from her neck, she sighed. Her nipples grew hard under the cotton of the nightgown.

Two watched, fascinated. Theroen could kill this woman, if he wanted to, and she would go to her death happily; might even go in the throes of ecstasy, under the right conditions. It was amazing.

It happened so quickly that Two almost missed it. One moment, Theroen was lightly caressing her cheek. The next, he had latched on to her neck. The woman gave a slight cry, her hips bucked once, and then she slumped. Theroen held her, drained her, and was done. He took a deep breath.

“Is she dead?” Two asked. He shook his head, and indeed, the girl’s eyelids were fluttering now as she fought her way back to consciousness. Theroen waited until she could stand, then looked into her eyes.

“Go back to your bed and sleep, my dear. This was a dream, and when the sun rises you’ll realize that.”

The girl turned and made her way unsteadily back to the house. The door clicked shut behind her.

“Quick, clean – not a drop spilled, and you made her want it in like three seconds. Like I said: the Master at work.” Melissa was smiling in approval.

“Thank you for your warm appraisal of my work, Melissa.” There was the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice as Theroen turned to face them.

“Welcome! Shall we go? I’m going to skip the appetizer and head for the city. Find me an all-night rave, go rolling and have dinner. Well, first I want to wash my hands, but after that.”

“Will you be able to get back to the mansion in time?” Two asked.

“I’ll find some place to crash in the city. No big deal. Worst-case scenario, New York’s full of little graveyards.” Melissa shrugged, stretched, began walking up the street. Theroen followed and, after a moment of considering how she might feel about sleeping in a graveyard, Two did as well.





* * *





A brief moment by the cars where Two thanked Melissa for coming with them, and for being there for her. Melissa smiled, leaned in low, whispered, “I can see why he loves you.” Two was surprised to feel her heart well up at this. She’d known Melissa for so short a time, known Theroen, the man she felt she loved, for no longer. Was such depth of emotion and attachment really possible?

Theroen, who could pluck these questions from her mind if he felt inclined, said nothing. He left it up to Two to find her answers, and Two loved him all the more for it.

The ride back was uneventful, if careening through the back roads of southern New York at speeds over double the posted limit could be considered as such. Two felt warm and pleasant, satiated, but without feeling full. She seemed caught in a sort of afterglow, so like the effects of heroin, but clearheaded and awake. Better in every way.

They reached the mansion well before sunrise. Theroen returned the Ferrari to the garage, and Two left the vehicle with regret. She stood on the driveway, an asphalt circle surrounding a topiary display.

“I can see my breath.”

Theroen walked up beside her, nodded. “It’s November, Two.”

“So why am I not cold?” She glanced down at herself. A pair of thin jeans, cotton shirt, leather jacket; it was not enough to keep a human warm.

“You won’t feel the elements as much, particularly after you’ve fed. I barely feel them at all anymore.”

“So I suppose the old ‘I’m cold, let’s go inside and get warm’ line would be pretty transparent then, right?”

Theroen’s ever-present smile widened to a grin.





* * *





He bit her as they joined, tiny pinpricks of pain high up on the neck, away from the main vein, followed by a surge of overwhelming pleasure. It was electric, reaching out from below her waist to touch every extremity of her body. Two moaned, arched her hips, thrust forward. Theroen moved, changed angle, allowing her teeth access to his own neck. Two touched her tongue to the skin, tasted the hint of the blood in his sweat, and bit down. The blood began to flow, and she felt the throb within redouble in intensity.

Death, life, time. They lay for millennia, for seconds. Two didn’t know, only that she felt herself building and building, always a steady ascent toward some unknown peak. Theroen’s blood was fire in her mouth, waves of power and ecstasy roaring through her in a torrent.

Her orgasm, when it finally came, was like nothing she had experienced as a human being. Unending, it left her without control of her limbs, powerless and lost against the force of it. Black spots danced before her eyes, and she struggled not to lose consciousness. Theroen seemed gripped by a similar power, body straining against hers for an interminable moment. The pleasure faded slowly, echoed by small jolts that Two thought of as aftershocks.

She pulled her teeth from Theroen’s neck and fell backwards, gasping for breath. The muscles of her inner thighs were trembling. Her arms felt weak. Theroen lay down beside her, equally exhausted. Two flicked a lock of hair from her eyes and glanced over at him. He was gazing calmly at her, but still panting from exertion. Two smiled.

“Was it good for you?” she asked, no malice in her sarcasm. Theroen laughed, leaned in, licked the last of the blood from her lips with the tip of his tongue. Two moved closer to him, let that brief touch turn into a longer kiss. She sighed as his hand caressed the swell of her breast.

“If humans knew it could be like that, Theroen, they’d be lining up in the street to make the change,” she said after they broke apart.

“You may well be right.”

Two felt a sudden heaviness in her eyelids and glanced at the window. The sky had begun to show the slightest sign of light.

“Draw the curtains, Theroen? I won’t be able to keep awake much longer. Will you stay with me?”

“Of course.”

Her room, like all of the rooms in the mansion, was equipped with a dual layer of heavy blackout curtains. Theroen stood, unashamed of his body, and pulled the cords. The room went immediately dark. Even Two, with her new eyes, was only able to discern vague shapes, dark forms on a black backdrop, outlined only by the slightest hint of light filtering in from the crack under the door. She felt Theroen return to the bed with her. Another kiss, the aftertaste of blood on his tongue. She lay with her head on his chest.

“Will I need to feed again tomorrow?”

“I’ve little doubt. Melissa still feeds daily, and it is relatively rare that I skip an evening.”

“I want to do it early, then. Get it out of the way.”

“All right.”

“Can I get pregnant?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? No baby vampire Theroens and Twos crawling around?”

Theroen yawned, played with a lock of her hair absently. “Yes, quite sure. It’s been tried, by others of our kind and by myself. Mortal women, half-vampire women, vampire women. None ever conceive. Vampire men, even those still blessed with this ability, don’t create seed. We don’t make children with our bodies, Two. We make them with our blood.”

“So you’re saying that we’re participating in incest, then? Willing participants, at that?”

“I try not to think of it like that.” Theroen’s voice was dry, but Two could hear the smile there. She laughed.

Quiet, for a moment. Two felt sleep nearing; a rolling blackness on the horizon that would soon blot out all consciousness. She fought it. There were so many questions.

“Who’d you try it with?”

“A woman. A vampire. I … she’s dead, now.”

“I thought vampires couldn’t die?”

“They can’t die. They can be killed.”

Two wanted to ask more. Wanted to know who this woman was, how she had died, why there was so much pain in Theroen’s voice. Sleep denied her the chance.





* * *





In the darkness, Theroen sighed and closed his eyes. The woman next to him, breathing soft and warm against his skin, couldn’t know how hard it was to answer her questions. How difficult it was to think of Lisette.

It had been nearly three hundred years since he had been with another vampire like this. Mortals, surely. He enjoyed making love to the women he took for nourishment nearly as much as Melissa enjoyed sex with her victims. But another vampire? The feel of her skin, the sinewy strong muscles beneath it, the smell of the blood in her sweat, in her kiss, in her sex. Two was everything Lisette had been, and more perhaps, because it was his role to be her teacher. Lisette had been hundreds of years old when Theroen had met her. He had been the student, then.

His love for Two, and the differences that separated her from Lisette in his mind, did little to ease the pain, little to dampen the sorrow, little to drown out the screams.





* * *





Theroen was not there when Two awoke. As probably would be the case forever, she suspected, he arose earlier, was forced into sleep later. Two could hear the shower running in the attached bathroom, a mundane sound that made her feel comfortable. At home.

Two sat up, shivering a bit. The warmth of the blood was long gone, and she longed for it. She understood now what Theroen and Melissa had said. Some of the concepts behind vampirism were perhaps distasteful, but the actual experience was quite the opposite. The blood was all that mattered, and it was beautiful.

Two got out of bed, opened the heavy maple doors of the wardrobe on the far side of the room, found a nightgown and slippers. She heard a door close outside the room. Curious, Two opened her bedroom door and looked out. The bedrooms opened on the grand chamber, overlooking the main foyer of the mansion. A crystal chandelier, easily twenty feet in diameter, illuminated the area. Below it stood Melissa, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

“Hi Melissa!” Two called, waving. The dark-haired vampire looked up and bared her teeth.

“Call me by that bitch’s name again, and I’ll find you some time when your superhero’s not around to protect you. I’ll cut your f*cking tits off.”

Missy, then. Two fought the anger that was rising inside of her. She tried to think of the other woman who occupied the body, the one whose company she had enjoyed the previous night. “Sorry, Missy.”

Missy stared up at her, an expression of frank disgust on her face. It took Two a moment to realize that it was her nightgown that Melissa was studying. Pink, with lace trim, it was hardly the type of outfit Missy probably preferred.

“I’m going out to eat and to find something for Tori. Tell Theroen that Abraham wants him. He’ll probably know, but tell him anyway, or I’ll get into deep shit.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame,” Two commented under her breath.

“Keep it up with the attitude, whore. See how far it gets you.”

Missy was gone before Two could respond. The shower was no longer running, and she felt Theroen’s presence behind her before he spoke.

“It’s best not to approach Melissa, unless you’re positive it’s her.” He pulled on a pair of black cargo pants and a white t-shirt.

“No kidding. Did you hear? About Abraham?”

“Yes.”

“What does he want with you?”

“I couldn’t even attempt to guess. It could be something as simple as moving a piece of artwork he has decided is no longer to his taste.”

Two thought of the elder vampire, whom she had met only briefly, and shuddered. During the time she had been near him, his strength had been undeniable, rolling off him in waves. Even had this not been the case, she had seen his broad shoulders and strong arms. Certainly he didn’t need Theroen to take care of such things for him.

“Abraham needs no one. He has me do these tasks because it amuses him. It proves I am still loyal to him. It proves I still serve him.”

“What will he do when you leave him?”

Theroen looked at her for a moment, as if the question had never occurred to him. “Survive. Perhaps he’ll attempt to make Melissa do his bidding. I doubt he’ll have much success.”

“Would she stand up to him? If she can, why don’t you?”

Theroen smiled, shook his head. “No. Melissa is no more capable of standing up to Abraham than I am. But she is afraid of him, and has less of a stomach for certain tasks he might ask of her. Dealing with her would be more frustration for him than it’s worth. Half of her, anyway. The other half is almost wholly Abraham’s child.”

“Why doesn’t he use Missy, then?”

“She is his child, but not his favored child. Their relationship is strained at best, and made all the worse by the fact that she does not own that body. No, Abraham does not favor her.” Theroen grimaced. “That particular honor goes to me.”

“Is that why you stay with him? Do you owe him? Or is it fear? Can he hurt you?” Two’s questions were not barbed. Theroen heard only honest curiosity in her voice.

“It’s integral that you understand something: Abraham is more than capable of slaughtering every creature that walks these grounds without even exerting himself. I am powerful. Abraham … is something closer to a god.”

“But you’re not afraid of him.” This was not a question.

“No. Not afraid of him and not afraid of what he might do to me. I am afraid, Two, of what he may choose to do to you, should I offend him. That is, to the best of my knowledge, the first thing that has truly frightened me in several hundred years.”

Two was quiet a moment, head down, considering. She looked up at Theroen. “Who is Lisette?”

Theroen visibly flinched away from her, eyes widening. He turned his head, but not before Two read what she needed from his expression.

“Oh,” Two said. “Who was Lisette?”

“Not now, Two.”

“Theroen …”

“Please,” he turned his eyes back toward her, and the look on his face made Two want to take it all back. She wished she had never mentioned the name, wished it had not flashed into her brain in that moment before sleep.

“Okay, Theroen. I …” She stopped. Theroen sat on the foot of the bed with his elbows on his knees, back bent, hands laced behind his head, staring at the floor. His expression was dark and miserable. Two felt adrenaline flood her system, then depart, leaving her shaky and scared. She had never expected anything like this. She crawled across the bed and stopped, unsure of how to proceed. She touched his shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Two.” Theroen sounded weary. He did not look up at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know!” Two felt herself crying.

Theroen turned to her, wiped a tear from her cheek. “Don’t.”

“I can’t help it. I’m scared.”

Theroen smiled at this, kissed her briefly. “Scared?”

“I don’t understand everything. You haven’t told me everything, and now I hurt you. I don’t even know how I did it. I didn’t know I could. I didn’t think there was anything I could’ve done …”

Theroen stood up, looked out the window, sighed.

“Lisette was a vampire. In a very real sense, you owe your present fortune – if you wish to consider it such – to her. She saw the good in me even as I spent my nights bathing in the blood of those I destroyed. She helped me to find the good in myself. And I loved her. I loved her like I love you. I loved her, and I couldn’t save her, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”





* * *





The girl made the cut below the nipple on her left breast and stood, beckoning. Theroen lounged on overstuffed cushions of velvet, warm from the first kill, ready for the second. She was white cream against the red fabric. Pouting lips, full breasts, dark hair on her head, between her legs. Theroen reached out, took her hand, brought her to him. The girl swooned, falling against him, panting, as he drank from the wound she had inflicted upon herself.

Her death came with a tiny gasp, and the girl went limp in his arms. Theroen shoved the body away, reclined, reflected. Two of them, and still he was unsatisfied. There could never be enough death. He could drown in a sea of human blood, and it would never be enough.

A walk, then, and perhaps another victim.

In the ten years that had passed since his rebirth into darkness, Theroen had learned little of his nature beyond that which was readily evident to him. He would not take instruction from Abraham, and the elder vampire in turn shunned his creation, leaving Theroen to his own devices.

Theroen knew he was strong. He knew he could read minds with a proficiency that seemed to enrage Abraham. He knew he could make women do terrible things to themselves, and in this last he sometimes took great pleasure.

There was no God, no devil, no heaven or hell. Lost in a sea of blackness, Theroen let his base instincts run wild. Women, always women. He would watch them, his powerful mind compelling them to perform acts of lust and passion upon themselves, upon each other. He would watch, but never join them. For the women from whom he drank, Theroen’s touch meant only death.

Some went quietly, like the two tonight. Others laughed, wept, screamed, begged. It didn’t matter. How could it? How could anything matter at all when God had so clearly forsaken him? Theroen reveled in debauchery worse than that which had driven him from the church, and it just didn’t matter.

Someone was watching him. He could sense it, and this presence frightened him. Theroen was unaccustomed to being noticed. His speed and uncanny ability to manipulate the minds of those around him made it an infrequent occurrence. What concerned him most was that he could not throw off this feeling. It pursued him through streets, back alleys, parks, graveyards. He skipped the whorehouse from which he’d been planning to acquire another victim, moved onward, toward the townhouse. Toward Abraham. Toward safety.

There was something humorous in that concept, that he might turn to Abraham for sanctuary. The vampire elder had all but denounced him, yet blood bonded them. Theroen hated his master. Despised him. Loathed him.

And yet this fear …

The presence shifted, and he realized that the feeling of being watched was more than a mere tingle at the back of the neck. It was spatial. It had depth. He felt the presence overtake him at a frightening speed. There was a short moment of paralyzing terror, and then it moved onward, in front of him now, yet still focused on him in some way.

From the shadows there was laughter like silver bells on a sheet of glass. The woman stepped out from the doorway of a cathedral. Black hair, pale white skin and oceanic green eyes. Theroen felt himself lost and drowning in those eyes, and looked away, snarling.

“Do you fear everything you don’t understand?” Her accent was French.

“I fear nothing.” A lie, perhaps. His fright was replaced with the hot flush of humiliation. Theroen was glad for this. Of the two, he preferred the latter.

“You fear me.”

“You were trying to hypnotize me.”

“I was doing nothing of the sort.”

Theroen looked back, was pulled again into the depths of those eyes. He struggled to maintain focus, coherent thought, any semblance of composure.

She laughed again, but there was no trace of mockery in the sound. Theroen’s spine knotted and he shivered. “Who are you?”

“Who I am would be a long tale indeed, my fallen priest. Your father knows me. Perhaps you could ask him.”

“Your name, at least?”

“You can call me Lisette. It is not the name I was born into, but the one I chose for myself later. After. It has a lovely sound to it, don’t you think?”

“Lisette. Madame. What do you want?” Theroen had regained some composure. His thoughts were more clear, the sense of fear not gone, but faded. The girl, and Theroen saw now that she was little more than such, laughed again.

“Ah, you are brave, child. But don’t make assumptions based on my appearance. I’ve walked this earth for far longer than you can currently conceive.”

Theroen looked again, trying to see past the facade. The eyes told him she spoke the truth. They were ancient and ageless, like Abraham’s, yet without the malice that forever darkened his. Lisette smiled at him and took a step forward. Theroen flinched, stumbled backward, immediately on the defensive. His fear seemed to leap forward, energizing his muscles. Lisette paused, shaking her head.

“Child, if I wanted to kill you, you would be very dead by now. Do you not understand this?”

Theroen shook his head, a guarded expression on his face. The woman before him was lithe, petite, nearly angelic in her beauty. A killer?

And then she was gone, and he felt the lightest touch of lips against his ear. Her voice was a whisper, heard as much in his mind as by his body. “That and more.”

Theroen jerked to the side, flailing his arms for balance, losing it, falling.

Then he was sitting. Sitting on a stone bench, vaguely aware of some sort of movement too fast even for his vampire senses to track.

“Dear God,” his voice was thick with fear and confusion. The vampire, now sitting beside him, smiled again.

“You speak to Him who has forsaken you, Theroen. Is this not the case? Or perhaps you have only forsaken Him?”

Theroen searched for something to hold on to in his confusion, and found his anger. “I know not of Him. Not anymore. I know of fallen priests, and I know of their sins.”

Lisette clapped her hands together at this, laughing, merry, unperturbed by his blasphemy. Theroen turned to her, teeth clenched, angry. She looked at him with calm eyes, and shook her head.

“I am not mocking you, my young priest. Ah, has Abraham taught you nothing? No, of course not. Your goodness disgusts him.”

“I’ve no goodness left in me, lady. You look upon a black hearted killer. A creature of evil.”

More laughter. “I look upon nothing of the sort. I look only upon a man, and a vampire, who knows nothing of his own true nature. I look upon a man who was been led by others all his life, and knows not how to lead himself.”

“I look,” she said, “upon a fledgling in desperate need of answers.”

Theroen said nothing, but turned away. Answers? Perhaps, yes. Certainly Abraham had provided him with little in the way of understanding. He felt movement: Lisette leaning in closer. This time he did not shy away. He was instead suddenly, acutely aware of the woman next to him. She smelled of lilacs and blood, and he felt a wave of desire wash over him. When she laughed this time, it did not bother him so much.

“You must learn to guard your thoughts, my child. Such impure images from a man of the cloth …”

“I beg your pardon, Madame.” He could think of no other response.

Lisette moved her lips to his neck, held them above the vein. “Is that all you beg for?” Her breath set the tiny hairs below her lips standing on edge.

“Milady …” Theroen felt out of breath. No mortal woman had ever had this effect on him as a vampire, not even the victims he made perform for him. Before that, as a virgin for all of his twenty-three years, he had steadfastly disallowed any such thoughts. Now, they swamped him, overwhelmed him, swept him up.

Half-focused images, potent, carnal, flashed through his mind. Her open bodice beckoned, the white breasts luminescent in the moonlight. Skin like porcelain. Hair like ebony. Lips like blood. He sensed, or thought he sensed, some dull fire from between her legs. Theroen moaned slightly. Her lips never touched his skin, yet they burned there like hot iron.

“Alive below the waist,” she commented in a whisper. “How curious. Your father is possessed of no such blessing.”

She touched him there, ever so gently, and Theroen made some sound, some choked sob. He began to turn toward her, desire overwhelming him.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Lisette sat up, and the feeling, which had been like a building explosion, drained suddenly away. Theroen drew in a shuddery breath. Lisette laughed.

“I like you, Theroen Anders. I shall visit you again.”

And she was gone.





* * *





“So she’s the one who taught you that you could … you know?” Two asked.

“Yes, that and much more. I wish I could tell you the whole story, Two. I haven’t the time, right now. I have to go and find out what Abraham wants.”

“I’m hungry. Should I wait?”

“If I’m not back in a few hours, then you can go yourself. Just be smart about it. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Otherwise, I’d certainly enjoy your company. I thought we might go into the city tonight.” Theroen glanced in the direction of Abraham’s quarters, his expression of exasperation surprisingly human. Two laughed.

“Go. I’ll take a shower, and wait for you.”

She watched him leave, then stripped off her nightgown and made her way into the bathroom. It was not as luxurious as Melissa’s, but it was quite enough for Two, who had spent the last year showering in a cold tile room with seven other women.

She thought of Darren. Molly. Janice. Rhes and Sarah. Would she see them again? Her desire for revenge against Darren was already fading. It was difficult to maintain any concern. Her connection with those mortal lives had been severed. She didn’t need the drug, didn’t really care if Darren’s crimes went unpunished. The thought of Molly still hurt, but what could she do for Molly? Killing Darren would only put the girl out on the street with no immediate source of the drug.

More pressing, and more troublesome, was the story Theroen had begun. Lisette. An elder vampire and a previous lover. Two wondered what had happened to her, and knew it couldn’t have been pleasant. The expression on Theroen’s face had been heart-breaking.

There was still so little she knew about her lover. Centuries of life that remained dark to her, stories untold. Theroen was a creature beyond the scope of time Two was capable of visualizing. She could not imagine living for nearly half a millennia. The thought filled her both with fear and a fierce, fluttering excitement. So much to see and do, side by side with the one she loved.

Two turned off the shower, brushed her hair, pulled on clothes. There was a plush armchair against the wall, and Theroen had left a collection of Dickinson’s poetry on the nightstand. Two sat down, picking up the book and beginning to read.

The transition that began on the night she had met Theroen was still happening, the blood working on Two in ways both subtle and obvious. Beyond the strength, and the speed, it seemed also to be shaping her mind, maximizing it, bringing it to its full potential. She was now able to read far more quickly, comprehend on many more levels. The work, which would once have left her confused and frustrated, now fascinated her. She continued to read, glancing occasionally at the door, waiting for Theroen.





* * *





Two’s ears picked up the noises several minutes before her brain truly became aware of them. Shuffling from down the hall. Heavy breathing. They came not from the direction of Abraham’s chambers, but from Melissa’s.

She glanced at her watch. It had been more than ninety minutes since Theroen had left. If he did not return soon, Two would have to go hunting without him. She stood, set the book on the table, crept out the door, edging toward Melissa’s room. She hoped to determine which of the two women inhabited the body before making her presence known.

The cry startled her not only because it was unexpected, but because the voice belonged neither to Melissa, nor Missy. It was a woman’s voice, gasping for air and begging. Two heard fear in the voice, but also pleasure, longing, desire.

“No. Please wait!”

Two crept toward the door, curiosity overwhelming her. Light shone from the interior of Melissa’s room, spilling gold and amber onto the carpeting of the hall. Two glanced through the crack, into the room, eyes wide. On Melissa’s bed lay a girl about Two’s age, naked and sweaty, bleeding from a wound on her neck, and another near her navel. She had straight dark hair and brown skin, broad hips, heavy breasts. Melissa, or Missy, was straddling her, unclothed as well. There was blood on her lips and chin.

“Wait?” It was obviously Missy. The tone of the voice was enough. “Do you really want me to wait?”

The girl was stammering, panting, staring up at Missy with huge, confused eyes. Missy didn’t give her a chance to form a coherent answer, but reached instead behind her, between the girl’s legs. The girl cried out, arched her back, immediately matched the movement of her hips to the rhythm of Missy’s hand. She leaned her head back, gasping, baring her throat. Missy moved her head down without hesitation, feeding. Two felt her own hunger roar to life despite her horror. The blood, the sex; she could smell them on the air. Missy pulled away again, licking her lips.

“I can’t finish you tonight, but I can start you. Theroen thinks he can leave me here by myself. F*ck him. You’re mine, Samantha.”

Samantha looked up at her, semi-conscious, dazed from passion and lack of blood. Her nipples were dark, engorged with blood, standing hard, and Two noticed that there were bite marks on her breasts, too. A gold chain hung around her neck, its small crucifix pendant currently shoved aside, dangling in Samantha’s left armpit.

“Drink,” Missy said, and ran a sharp fingernail across her own breast. She lowered it to Samantha’s open mouth. The girl latched on to it like a child intent on feeding. Missy gasped, turned her head, and caught sight of Two. Their eyes seemed locked. Missy smiled, but in those eyes there was only malice.

“Mine,” she said.

Two turned and walked back to her room on legs that felt numb.





* * *





Three and a half hours had passed since Theroen’s departure. The hunger was gnawing at Two, but she was afraid to leave her room. Afraid that Missy might be waiting for her, might be looking to show off the awful progeny she was creating. Would her blood taint the girl’s mind? Would she and Theroen find themselves now the only sane beings in an even larger brood of vampires?

The door to her room opened. Two whirled, expecting Missy, unsure of what she might do to avoid confrontation. Theroen stood there instead, looking at her, calm as ever. “You waited.”

“You … we … there’s a problem, Theroen. It’s bad. Really bad. Something really bad is happening.”

Theroen nodded. His expression didn’t change. “I am aware of it.”

“But you didn’t stop it?”

“I wasn’t able to. I was with Abraham. I believe he knew.”

He came into the room, sat down in a chair, looked out the window. Two waited for him to explain.

“There is nothing to explain,” Theroen said after a while. “Abraham knew, yes. I’m sure of it. He knew where Missy was, and what she was doing, and now there’s another half-vampire lying unconscious in a cell in the basement, and Melissa’s been crying for the past hour.”

“Melissa?”

“Missy let her back in, as soon as she’d done it. Melissa woke up naked, lying next to the girl. It didn’t take her long to figure out what had happened, but she couldn’t make herself kill the girl. Perhaps it’s maternal instinct. Perhaps it is Missy exerting her will. I do not know, but Samantha is her child now.”

“Couldn’t she just leave? You said that half-vampires eventually revert.”

“They do. It doesn’t matter. They are bonded now. What will the girl do, if we take her somewhere and leave her lying unconscious? She will wake up and return home. Missy will eventually wrest control of the body away from Melissa. When she does, she will go to the area of the city where the girl lives. Tracking her from there will be simple.”

“So what do we do?”

Theroen laughed. There was little humor in the sound. “Yes. What do we do? We go hunting. Then I go to Abraham and tell him what he already knows, and find out how he wishes me to proceed.”

“Would he care?”

“I do not know. The possibility exists that this is some sort of test, or lesson, or final parting gift. He might tell me to do nothing. He might tell me to slaughter the girl. To be honest, I’m not sure what the best course of action is. He may have arranged this entire event, that he might exercise one last bit of control over me before I abandon him forever.”

“Would you do it?”

Theroen’s gaze did not leave the window. He shrugged. “She might well be better off. Melissa would certainly be better off. In truth, it might be better for all involved if my parting gift to Abraham was to slaughter those of his descendants whom I am not taking with me.”

“Theroen, no! Melissa? She …”

“She shares her mind with something that has become progressively stronger with each passing day. Something evil that was never meant to be. Something that is slowly taking over the body that once was hers.”

He turned to Two. “The question is not whether Melissa will die, Two. It is whether she will die by my hand, or Abraham’s, or Missy’s. She will eventually be absorbed. This leaves Tori, who is almost certainly better off dead, and the half-vampire in the basement, whose name I do not even know.”

“Samantha.” Two’s lips felt numb.

Theroen looked at her, and there was a momentary dizziness. Two’s vision swam, and images of the events with Melissa seemed to flicker past behind her eyelids. Then it was over.

“Yes, Samantha. My apologies, Two. I should have asked before doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Normally I receive thoughts passively. I shut most of it out, in fact, for a variety of reasons. Occasionally though I harvest. In this instance, I’m now aware of what you saw and heard.”

“How do you do this stuff, Theroen?”

Theroen shrugged. “All thought is energy. All energy can be harnessed. I do not know how my mind does it, only that it can.”

“Theroen … what do we do?”

He sighed. “My largest concern is not determining Abraham’s desire, but whether I should carry out those actions regardless of his wishes. The people who will be left in this mansion, Two, are largely better off dead. Melissa knows this. She’s known it for years.”

“That’s why she cried last night. When you finished me.” Two felt cold and frightened. She felt as if some momentous event was taking place, something beyond her ability to control.

Theroen nodded. “Your birth into darkness was the beginning of the end. It was the beginning of the end of everything she has ever known.”





* * *





Two could hear muffled sobbing as they left her room. She turned instinctively toward the sound, but Theroen’s hand guided her back toward the staircase.

“There’s little we could do for her right now, Two.”

Two looked up at him, angry. “You’re talking about your sister, Theroen.”

He closed his eyes; put his hand on his forehead. “I know exactly whom I am talking about, Two.”

“The person you’ve shared a hundred and forty years with.”

“I know, Two.”

“The least you could do is …”

“Is what?” Theroen asked, looking up at her. There was anger in his eyes, and his voice was strained. “Sit next to her? Hold her hand? Tell her everything is going to be okay? Is that what I should do?”

Two was taken aback.

“I have hated myself, Two, for things broken that I could not repair, for three hundred and fifty years. Hated myself. I know now what I must do, and may God forgive me for it, because I will never forgive myself. Melissa knows I am to be her destruction. We were waiting only for the catalyst. The thing that would cause me to flee from Abraham’s grasp. It was inevitable.

“You are that catalyst, Two. All I can think about is our life together. It is in my mind always. I want to take you away from this. From Abraham and Tori and Missy. I want to show you what we can truly be, as Lisette once showed me. This means leaving Melissa, and for that I am truly sorry, but I cannot help myself. I must go. The final act of this little farce that Abraham created has come.

“How can I give her any comfort? What is there to say? It is remarkable that Melissa does not hate us both.”

Two was silent. She could feel her eyes going hard and wet the way they always did when tears threatened. Theroen could not meet her gaze. He kept trying, and was having no success. This somehow made it worse. When he spoke, there was sorrow in his voice. And regret. And defeat.

“I should have told you. I … Two, I’m sorry. Living for so long, it’s blinded me. I act as I wish without considering others. Even when I told you I was giving you a choice, I failed to tell you what it was you were choosing. I never even thought to do so, and I apologize. Your choice did not doom Melissa … that had already happened. It did, though, set the end in motion.

“I will understand if this changes your opinion. You are Eresh-Chen. You can be human again if you wish. You can take that choice back. I will not stop you.”

Two looked at him, angry and in love, horrified and filled with despair. At last she spoke.

“I want to meet Tori.”

Theroen turned and was finally able to meet her gaze. He seemed surprised. “Two, I explained—”

“Now, Theroen. I want to understand what I am.”

“Tori is nothing like—”

“Tori is everything like me! No, let me finish. You’ve given me this gift. I asked for it. I don’t want to give it back. You’ve let me see through vampire eyes, taste with a vampire’s tongue. You’ve let me run like a vampire, and feed like a vampire, and f*ck like a vampire, and I love it, Theroen, but you haven’t shown me what I really am.

“Whatever’s inside me, it wants blood. Right now, it wants blood very badly. It wants to rip, and tear, and hate. That thing is the same thing inside of Tori, the most pure it’s ever going to be. I want to see her, Theroen. I want to know what’s inside of me. I want to see it all laid bare, and I want to see it now.”

Theroen contemplated this for a moment, shrugged, sighed.

“So be it.”





* * *





The moon was like daylight to her eyes. The forest, which might have seemed foreboding to a human, gave Two no pause. Forests in the night were filled with predators, and there were none out this night greater than she and Theroen. They had been walking the grounds for thirty minutes. Theroen did not call for Tori, and it was obvious he knew where he was going. At times he would pause, change direction, and move forward again.

“Tori doesn’t stay still, and she doesn’t know we’re looking for her yet,” he explained. “I could call, but it would do no good. I can sense her, though. We will catch up eventually.”

At length they reached a small clearing. Here, Two saw, were paths carved into the ground from the frequent passage of some creature, like a dog that runs patterns into its yard. From the woods not far away, Two heard growling. The sound was low and guttural, the noise of a large jungle cat.

“Tori. Come.” Theroen said, standing in the middle of the clearing. He gave off no palpable sense of fear, but Two thought she could hear some measure of concern in his voice.

The creature that stepped from the bank of trees in front of them moved in a manner unlike anything Two had ever seen. The changes that vampirism had brought to Tori manifested themselves in a far more physical manner than Two had expected. On all fours, the girl moved with feline grace, sliding slowly into the clearing, eyeing them cautiously and growling. She stopped perhaps twenty feet from them, staring, teeth bared. Two shivered.

“She’s not pleasant to be around,” Theroen commented. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Introduce yourself. Be polite.”

“Hi, Tori … I’m Two. It’s, uh … nice to meet you,” Two said. She heard the nerves in her own voice, and hated herself for it. Tori stared at her, then suddenly opened her mouth and howled. Two flinched, but held her ground.

“She’s testing you. Stand still. If she charges, I will take care of you.” Theroen’s voice was a whisper, or perhaps nothing more than a thought on the wind.

Tori moved in a wide arc around them, eyes never leaving Two. She was naked and filthy, her long hair – blonde like Two’s – matted with dirt. Her teeth were more pronounced than in the other vampires Two had met, long and curved and deadly. She sat back on her haunches, watching Two. The eyes conveyed an intelligence and awareness far greater than Two might have guessed.

Two sat down in the grass without thinking, meeting Tori’s gaze. She held her hands out, palms up, in front of her. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tori. I want to meet you.”

Tori cocked her head, rolled her body forward into her walking position, and moved a few feet toward Two.

“You’re playing with fire,” Theroen said from behind her. “She’s very fast.”

“If she kills me, she kills me. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to go.”

Theroen murmured something inaudible. Tori was now only a few paces away, looking curious. Theroen shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Tori immediately backed up a pace, eyeing him with concern.

“Go sit on that rock, Theroen.” Two indicated by tilting her head slightly to her left. The rock jutted from the ground near the edge of the woods, twenty meters away.

“Two …”

“She’s not scared of you, exactly, but you definitely make her edgy. I don’t want that. Go.”

Theroen again said something under his breath, but Two thought she could hear a smile in his voice, fighting against his concern. He moved toward the rock. Tori took another step backward, watched him as he went, turned her attention back to Two.

“You’re nothing if not stubborn, my love,” Theroen said.

“Got that right. Now, Tori, do you want to say hello?”

Tori took a few steps forward. Two could see the muscles in her legs, tense, ready to spring or run if necessary. Two continued to hold her hands out, and Tori sniffed them, seeming to relax. She sat back, cocked her head again, appraising Two.

“Hello, Tori.”

Tori made a sound that started low in her throat and became a high-pitched whine. To Two, it sounded like a dog yawning.

“How does it feel, not having to worry, Tori? How does it feel to kill, and eat, and not think twice about it? No guilt. No sadness. No concern. How does that feel?”

Tori looked at her, unable to comprehend. She scratched behind her ear briefly, followed the flight of a bat with her eyes, then looked back at Two.

“Must feel pretty good, I bet. You hungry, Tori?”

Two brought her finger to her new, sharp teeth, and bit it. Blood welled immediately. She held her hands back out to Tori.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack, Two.” Theroen’s voice held more tension than she had heard at any time since her encounter with Abraham.

“Your heart’s strong, Theroen. You’ll survive. Go ahead, Tori.”

Tori moved her head forward, licked Two’s finger once, twice, and then abruptly moved her head away.

“You’re a killer, Tori. Take it. Take what you want. If you’re going to kill me, then kill me. I refuse to be afraid of you, so kill me now, or I guess we’re going to have to be friends.”

Tori looked again at Two’s outstretched hand, then reached up, bit her own finger, and held it out to Two.

“Okay, Tori.”

Two touched her lips to Tori’s outstretched hand and tasted blood, fire on her tongue. Her hunger leapt awake, but she too pulled her head away.

“Just a couple of killers out in the forest, that’s us, right Tori?” Two was smiling, but she could feel tears making cool tracks on her hot cheeks. “Just a couple of vampires getting to know each other … getting to know who they really are.”

She felt Theroen beside her. Tori glanced at him briefly, but did not shy away. Theroen’s concern had dissipated, and in turn Tori no longer seemed to regard him as a threat. He sat down in the grass next to Two, and she leaned against his shoulder, still looking at Tori.

“I wish I was like her.”

“Do you?”

“She’s perfect. She doesn’t care. Melissa, Missy … they’re the same person to her. Who’ll take care of her when they’re gone?”

“I had thought she was not long for this earth, Two. Now? I am not so sure. She seems to have accepted you. Perhaps Abraham might permit us to take her.”

“Good. I understand her. I wish I was like her. Oh, God, Theroen, how do you stand it? Is it always this much … tragedy?”

“No, not like this, but there is always some tragedy, Two, and always some joy, and I am sometimes thankful for both. It reminds me of what it was like to be a human. You want to know what you are, Two? You are a killer. You are a vampire. You are a force of nature, like the girl sitting before us. You are cursed, and you are blessed, just like Tori. She will never know the things we know, feel the things we feel. That is her blessing. That is her curse.”

Two smiled at Tori. Tori smiled back, then turned suddenly, loped off through the grass, making high yipping sounds. In seconds she was gone. After a moment more, Two stood. The cut on her finger had already healed, but the thirst still burned within her.

“Let’s go into the city, Theroen. I’m hungry.”

They left the clearing, moving back toward the mansion. Overhead, the moon looked down on them, cold and distant.





* * *





There was no need to find a criminal this time. Two was ravenous, and beyond caring. “I’m f*cking starving. Whatever’s close. I’ll hate myself in the morning, but right now I don’t care if it’s a virgin girl about to win the Nobel Peace Prize. Force of nature, right?”

Theroen had nodded, and headed for the city, the Ferrari roaring beneath them. There was little said during the drive. Both were occupied with their own thoughts, reflecting on the recent events at the mansion. Was there any way to avoid the coming storm?

Eventually Two sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the seat. Theroen took her hand momentarily, squeezed it.

“This is going to drive me crazy, Theroen.”

“I’d rather you not let it. We have a surplus in that area already.”

Two let herself smile a little. “I don’t think Tori’s actually that nuts. She’s just … stripped raw. I’m also not sure she’s as unaware of what’s going on as you guys think. That bit with the blood was pretty impressive.”

Theroen shrugged. “It is possible. Tonight is the longest she’s ever allowed me to be close to her.”

Two fed on an older woman returning from a late night at work. There was little ceremony, this time. She simply followed the woman into her building, attacked her in the stairwell, and she and Theroen pulled the body up and into the woman’s apartment, where they left it. Theroen fed from a neighbor, a woman in her mid-twenties whose cats were petrified of him, left her lying flushed and feverish in her bed, and they departed.

“Why did we come so far, if it was that easy?” Two asked.

“You will need to be careful with your eating habits for some time, Two. Most vampires do not stop killing out of some misguided sense of morality, but for personal protection. Sixty thousand people die every year in the city and the surrounding area. It makes for good cover. But even a small portion of vampires, killing a victim per night, would rapidly raise suspicion. Fortunately, like I said, those of our strain are the only vampires that need so much blood for so long. There are not many of us.”

“Why not?”

“We breed differently. Unfortunately, I do not know all of the specifics. There is very much that Abraham never bothered to teach me, and that Lisette did not have time to. I believe she may actually have withheld a great deal from me, in order to protect me until I had grown stronger.”

“Lisette.”

Theroen sighed, and nodded. “Lisette. Yes. I never did finish that story. There are nearly forty years I could talk about, but most of that is empty details. A lot of hunting. A lot of sex. Fond memories, but I wish we’d done more with the time.”

“I think just about everyone does, Theroen.”

“Yes, I think so, too. Where did I leave off?”

“She left you that first night, and you went home.”

“Ah. Home. Home to sleep. Home to wait. For night … for Lisette.”





* * *





Theroen made his way back to the dwelling where he spent most of his time. Though he had started his life as a vampire living in tombs, this was simply meant to be a lesson from Abraham. After a week or two of sleeping on cold slabs, Abraham had brought Theroen to his home, a large estate on the outskirts of the city. Theroen thought perhaps the lesson was that Abraham could provide better than what Theroen could manage on his own.

Theroen, already falling into the anger and hatred that would consume him for the next ten years, took from his sire only the knowledge that he did not need to live in the graveyard. Within six months he had left Abraham and acquired his own apartment in the city. Abraham was apoplectic. Theroen didn’t care. “Kill me then,” he had told the elder vampire. “Do what I now wish you had done that first night. I am damned now, so what does it matter?”

Abraham had not killed him, had let him go. “You will return, Theroen. Wait and see. Fledgling vampires need their masters more than they realize.”

Thus far, Abraham had been wrong. Theroen saw him only occasionally, when he needed vampire blood. Abraham gave it, to Theroen’s surprise, although not without complaint. He would insist that Theroen was being foolish, putting himself in needless danger. Theroen would simply listen in silence, waiting for the blood, and Abraham would eventually grow tired of sermonizing.

Theroen saw no reason for this to change. After the initial surprise and fear of this chance encounter with the vampire named Lisette, he had been unsure whether to continue on his path toward Abraham’s home, or to turn back toward his own. Eventually he realized the truth of her words; if she had wanted Theroen dead, he would be dead by now.

With that realization, he found himself no longer concerned for his safety. He turned and moved back the way he had come, mulling over the events of the evening. Lisette’s refusal to believe his claims of evil and darkness, the sudden awakening of his sexual appetite. Lost in a sea of thought, Theroen wandered. Contemplated.

Lisette was the polar opposite of the only other vampire he had known. Was it possible that there could be more to the afterlife than the pursuit of darkness? Was this why he resisted Abraham’s tutelage? Was it his horror at his own, lost soul that made him lash out so at humanity?

It seemed he could smell her on the wind, but her presence was gone from his mind. Lisette. Her accent was French.

Theroen smiled a small smile, and looked up at the stars.





* * *





The next night saw no sign of her. Theroen fed lightly, a single girl. No performance, no sexuality. He found the girl in a darkened alley, took her before she was even aware of his presence, moved on. He wandered, waiting for Lisette, but Lisette did not come.

Two days. Three. His frustration mounted. Theroen began to wonder if he had simply hallucinated the entire event. It seemed unreal to him now, this visit from a creature of such power and beauty. Four days. Five. The anger began to rise again within him. The hate cried out to him. Let go. Give up. On the sixth day he took two women, watched them bring each other to the heights of pleasure, cut their throats like sacrificial lambs, and hated himself for it.

Seven, eight, and the memory of laughter like bells in the night was fading rapidly. A chance encounter, if it had happened at all.

He lost count, descending again into rage. Nights of red haze, lashing out against God and his creations. Had she been so close to him? Had he felt the touch of salvation?

She visited him again on a cold night in October, as he wandered through cobblestone alleys, searching for prey, seething. Cats in the background, wailing at the night. The occasional shout, the noise of breaking glass. Drunks stumbled through the alleys around him, but they were men. Theroen did not feed on men unless desperate. He found their scent disagreeable.

The presence overwhelmed Theroen, his step faltered, and he came to a stop. It was like before; the sense of being watched, so specific, as if he could pinpoint the source. Theroen turned, looked up. Lisette sat on a small stone bridge that arched over the alley. She was dressed in a black velvet gown. He could see the white silk of her underclothes.

“Madame.” Theroen’s breath had vanished. His heart pounded, staccato in his chest.

“Hello, my good Mr. Anders. How are you this fine night?”

“The better for seeing you, milady.” Theroen had regained his composure. He did not want another display of helplessness.

“You’re seeing a bit too much of me at the moment, if the blood in your cheeks is any indication,” she laughed, and in one easy movement dropped to the pavement, standing in front of him. Her eyes caught the moonlight like bits of jade.

“You seek to fluster me, lady,” he said.

“I seek nothing at all, Theroen, except to be in your presence. You are not like most of the others. You burn with goodness. It … warms me.”

Theroen felt anger. How could this woman see in him anything of value? He sought to shock her. “Lady, this night I watched as a woman writhed naked in a pool of her own blood, too caught up in sinful ecstasy even to notice.”

Lisette raised an eyebrow, smiled, her expression amused. She touched his arm, and Theroen felt the warmth of the touch through his jacket. His anger, his fear, melted. He felt again a throb of desire for the creature standing before him.

“You could at least have invited me along.”

Theroen felt his jaw drop, astonished at this suggestion. He tried to stop it from doing so, but could not. Lisette laughed. “Would you like to walk with me, Theroen?”

Theroen was not at all sure he had a choice, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He took her arm, and they proceeded out of the alley, into the late evening crowds. Lisette chattered at his side, seemingly happy to be out and on the arm of a young man.

“It’s a lovely evening, don’t you think? So many beautiful ladies. So many debonair gentlemen.” She paused, as if waiting for acknowledgement.

“And yet, what are they to us, lady? They are cattle.”

“That is your master speaking.” Lisette glanced up at him. “Or your father, perhaps. I am not yet sure that one such as yourself might ever have a master.”

“Abraham commands me.”

“You defy him. You maintain your own dwellings. You do not join in his politics. His black magic. His evil.”

“Milady, I do not understand how you differentiate his evil from my own.”

“Your evil is a fabrication, brought about by too many years taking the word of priests as the only truth. You have been trained to see yourself as evil, even as a mortal. When you become a hunter of mortals, can that be anything but worse?

“Is the tiger evil, Theroen? The shark that swims in the oceans? They take mortal life as a force of nature. They take mortal life as it suits them. Their souls are clean.”

“My church … would have me believe those creatures have no soul, lady.”

“Your church would also have you believe that a man and a priest tempted into making advances upon his student also has no soul, would it not? Or at least, no soul worthy of salvation.”

Theroen grimaced. “That it would.”

“You see the world, the church, Abraham and Father Leopold in black and white, Theroen. There are so very many shades you do not see. You have been trained to look past them. Did Leopold not do good in his life?”

Theroen considered this. After some time, he nodded. The man had, indeed, performed more good deeds than Theroen could possibly count.

“Is that good invalidated by his carnal desires?”

“Yes. No, I … Madam, I do not know.”

“You may call me Lisette, Theroen.”

“We’ve only just met …”

Lisette laughed again, held more tightly to his arm, looked at him with her green eyes. “My young priest, I have been watching you for two years.”

Theroen’s mind looked back over the things he had done, or made mortals do for him, in the past few years. He tried to push these thoughts away. Lisette’s lips brushed his ear. “Why fight? Accept. Understand. My dear, you’re a very creative vampire! You’ve exposed many young ladies to the true pleasures of the flesh … something this horribly repressed society might never have allowed them. More amazing, you’ve done it without knowing those pleasures yourself. Is it so wrong that you’ve shown them these things?”

“I did it out of hate.”

“Hate for them?”

“No, not for them.”

“Then for whom?”

“For myself. For what I am, what I allowed myself to become.”

“There is no reason to hate yourself, Theroen. You must understand that.”

Theroen shook his head, bewildered. “Lady – Lisette – everything you say flies in the face of what I have known my entire life.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“And do you understand?”

“I am trying.”

Lisette shrugged. “Then all is well. Rome was not built in a day.”

“That may be true. I … where are we going?”

They had moved away from the crowded streets, toward a part of the city that lay mostly in darkness. Lisette guided him along the cobblestone pathways, unerring, sure of her destination.

“My home, naturally.”

“Why?”

A small smile, nothing more.





* * *





They were greeted at the door by a young girl, maybe sixteen, pale with honey-colored hair and large grey eyes. A small, upturned nose, pink bow lips. Not a vampire. Theroen raised his eyebrows at this, but Lisette simply smiled her little smile, and nodded to the girl.

“Naomi.”

“Welcome home, mistress. Welcome, good sir.” The girl stepped aside, and Lisette led Theroen into a small, comfortably furnished room. A fire burned in a marble hearth on one end. Small couches were arranged in a semicircle on the other. Through a door to his left, Theroen saw a doorway leading to a dining room. To his right, a hall, leading most likely to bedrooms.

“This is Theroen. Theroen, Naomi. She is my companion.”

“You keep a human companion?” Theroen asked. He was trying hard not to look at the girl, trying not to sense the blood in her veins.

“I do. It is not unusual for Ashayt vampires to spend their time with humans, or even to live with them. Naomi tends the house, and in exchange I drink from her, on occasion.”

Naomi, standing in the corner, said nothing, only smiled. Her eyes were on the floor. Theroen glanced at her, then back at Lisette. “You can do that?”

“Certainly. Human beings heal, Theroen. Have you never cut yourself?”

Theroen shrugged. It had never occurred to him. He turned and addressed Naomi directly. “You … enjoy this?”

“I live to serve my mistress.” Naomi’s tone was questioning. She seemed surprised that Theroen found this unusual.

“Liar.” There was mischief in Lisette’s voice. She touched Theroen’s arm, gaining his attention. “She lives for the pleasure.”

“To serve my mistress … and for the pleasure,” Naomi admitted after a moment, a light blush touching her cheeks.

“Naomi has never given blood to a man, Theroen. Would you like to drink from her?”

Theroen considered this. “I’m afraid I might kill her. I have never left prey alive.”

Naomi’s eyes widened. Lisette laughed. “You will do no such thing. Naomi is not your prey. She is my attendant. Or perhaps my soubrette. Sit down, Theroen.”

She beckoned to the couch. Theroen sat, feeling confused and out of place. Lisette, to his right, motioned for Naomi, and the girl sat down to his left. He could hear her heartbeat, quicker than normal.

“You’re frightened of me.”

“No, milord.”

“No lies, Naomi.” Lisette’s voice was soft. Naomi blushed again.

“A bit, perhaps.”

“He’ll not kill you, Naomi. You have my promise. Theroen is Eresh-Chen He is perfectly capable of restraining himself. This is not so different from giving me the blood, though you may find it … more immediately gratifying.”

“Are there differences?” Theroen asked Lisette.

She curled her hand around his, leaned her head in close. Theroen could feel the push of her breasts against his arm. “Are there differences in the pleasures men give women, and those that women give each other, Theroen?”

“I would not know, milady.”

“Lisette.”

“Lisette, I know not.”

“Ah, that is unfortunate, and we will change it soon enough, my young priest. Drink. There is no reason to get Naomi so excited for nothing.”

Theroen looked at the girl. Naomi breathed deeply, returning his gaze with eyes that betrayed both nervousness and a small, burning desire. She arched her head to the side, and Theroen could see the beat of her heart below the flesh of her neck and felt himself consumed by a sudden, tremendous need. He leaned his head in close, kissed the spot, felt her heat below his lips. Naomi sighed.

Theroen felt Lisette’s grip on his hand change, moving it to Naomi’s breast. He cradled it, moved his thumb across it, felt her erect nipple below the fabric of her gown. Naomi gasped, moved her head, put her lips on Theroen’s, wrapped her arms around him.

For the first time in his existence, Theroen Anders let himself kiss a woman in passion. He felt her warmth against him, beating heart, shared breath, fire in the touch of her lips. Her tongue, small and insistent, pressed, turned the kiss warm and damp. He responded instinctively, biting down slightly. Naomi winced a moment, then kissed harder, and Theroen tasted her blood, hot in his mouth.

Lisette’s hand guided his. Naomi’s legs lay slightly apart, and Theroen slid her skirts up. He found bare skin underneath, ran a finger along one smooth thigh. Naomi adjusted her position, mouth still locked to Theroen’s, opened herself to him. Theroen felt the brush of hair at his fingertips, and then only heat, and wet. Naomi made a noise in her throat, pushed her hips forward, continued their kiss. Lisette’s lips were at his ear, whispering for him to drink. Drink. Take her blood and give her release.

Theroen moved his mouth from Naomi’s, licking traces of blood from her lips, and placed it against her neck.

“Drink.” Lisette. A whisper.

“Drink.” Naomi. A plea.

Theroen bit down, as gently as he could, and pressed his hand against the smooth, warm, wet flesh at his fingertips. Naomi’s reaction was instantaneous, violent, enough so that Theroen wondered for a moment if perhaps he had hurt her much more than his bite should have. She cried out, thrust her hips forward into his touch, over and over. Her hands made claws against his back.

Theroen drank, making an effort to resist the trance that wanted to blanket him, that would make him unable to stop until the girl’s heart gave its final beat. He succeeded, drank only a few swallows, and detached himself from the girl, gasping.

Naomi laid back in a semi-swoon, hand at her neck, breathing ragged, eyes far away. Lisette reached across Theroen and adjusted the girl’s skirts. Her touch seemed to register with Naomi, who looked around, groggy but aware.

“Good?” Lisette’s voice held the air almost of an indulgent parent. Naomi nodded, trying to catch her breath. Lisette turned to Theroen, took his hand in both of hers.

“Good?”

Theroen shook his head, not in denial but in an attempt to clear it, licking blood from his lips. He stared out at the fire. “Everything previous seems distant and uninteresting,” he said at last. Lisette laughed her musical laugh, kissing his fingertips.

“Then all is very well, indeed! Are you tired, Naomi?”

“Tired, yes, mistress. But … if master Theroen is not finished, I … would not object to indulging him further.”

Lisette laughed again, clapping her hands, delighted. “Ah, my dear, asking for seconds so soon? Theroen will think you of low character!”

Theroen glanced around at this and smiled slightly. “I assure you, he thinks no such thing.”

“It matters not. Naomi knows her character very well indeed. She is also much more tired than she is letting on. There is no time for further entertainment tonight.”

Naomi, understanding this to be a dismissal, stood. She was unsteady on her feet, so Lisette helped her down the hall toward the bedrooms. Theroen watched the girl disappear into darkness, returning her small wave. Lisette moved back to the couches, sat again next to Theroen, and looked at him for a time with her sparkling eyes, saying nothing.

Finally she asked, “Was that evil, Theroen?”

“Mil—Lisette, I don’t know what that was.”

“Ah, but that I can answer for you. It was but a small taste of what a vampire like yourself might experience. We are both of us blessed, Theroen.”

“How so?”

“What Naomi just experienced is but a shadow of what more skilled ministrations can bring her, and that but a hint of what a vampire lucky enough to retain such human abilities can feel. I possess that gift, Theroen, and so do you. Think of the fun we shall have!”

Theroen stared at her, smiling. “Lisette, I believe if I contemplate that possibility overmuch, I may well never leave your side again.”

“Then don’t.”

“Abraham—”

“Abraham is a black-hearted fool who understands nothing more than death. All that was human in him died during the change. He erroneously assumed the same would be true of you, my priest.”

“And you believe otherwise?”

Lisette again left him to decipher only her smile.





* * *





Two’s eyes were wide. The mansion was not yet near. Theroen had paused momentarily to glance at her and gauge her reaction.

“Am I boring you?”

Two laughed, shaking her head. “No. God, no. This is great. It’s like vampire porn. ‘The Erotic Adventures of Theroen, Chapter 1.’ ”

Theroen laughed at this. “Four hundred years would add up to many chapters indeed, but the truth is that much of it would sound the same. Sex may not grow tiresome for those involved … at least, if they’re good at it. But listening to stories about it only lasts so long.”

“It’s not even the sex, really. I know what that’s like. It’s the idea of you not knowing, I think,” Two said.

“The loss of innocence, yes. People often find that arousing.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Greatly.”

“Did you sleep with Lisette?”

“Not that night.”

“But eventually?”

“Oh, yes.”





* * *





For several months, Theroen spent every waking moment of his time with Lisette and Naomi. It took little time for Lisette to coax Theroen into the fullness of his own sexuality, and evenings frequently began with feeding, perhaps a show, and ended in lengthy stretches of passion. His early teachings came from Naomi, and with Lisette’s guidance the two learned rapidly. Naomi took his virginity from him, gave him her own, in a bed of satin, Lisette’s soft whispers a soothing backdrop to the heat of passion, the heat of blood.

After this, their lovemaking was frequent, spontaneous, shared. Theroen and Naomi, Theroen and Lisette, Lisette and Naomi, the three together. Naomi would be a fledgling someday, Lisette explained. Her body was young, yet, but the time was nearing. Naomi, for her part, was content for now with the ministrations of her vampire lovers.

Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months. Theroen saw nothing of Abraham, delved no further into the darkness that had held his soul for the past decade. Mental, physical, spiritual, Lisette was his teacher in all things, and found Theroen a most willing pupil.

A year. Another. A third. When Lisette brought Naomi to darkness, Theroen was there, watching like a proud father. The process was more difficult for her than it had been for Theroen, and Lisette explained that this was due to differences between the vampire strains. There was pain, but Naomi bore it, and in the end was nearly unchanged by the transformation. She gained strength, speed, the ability to see in the dark, but no evil touched her, and she did not lose her sexual abilities. She remained their constant companion, a fledgling learning from her mistress, and from her friend.

They made quite the trio, strolling the streets of London after dark, dressed in the latest fashions, hunting as it pleased them. There were events to attend. The theatre, the symphony, the opera. Time passed, as it does during the good times, in what seemed a blur.

In her third year of vampire life, Naomi discovered the pleasures of coupling with her victims before she fed. This was a bittersweet occurrence. Her time with both Theroen and Lisette became less frequent, much to their disappointment. She still lived with them, still enjoyed their company, but now hunted alone, and most of her lovemaking was with humans. Simultaneously, this left more time for Theroen and Lisette to be alone together. They used it, growing ever more skillful in the pleasures they brought to one another. Naomi was a welcome addition when she wished to be, a companion otherwise.

More years. Five became ten, ten became twenty, twenty became forty. Abraham was a distant memory. Lisette, Naomi, they were reality. Theroen’s companions. He had come to love his immortal life with them, to cherish it more than he could have thought possible.

But in the forty-first year of his new life, Theroen found these things he cherished, his entire world, shattered beyond repair.





* * *





It started in a grove of trees, under a full spring moon. Lisette and Theroen, walking in the park, talking quietly, warm from the kill. They entered a small grove, away from prying eyes. The glint in Theroen’s eyes had made Lisette laugh. “Someone will call the constable!”

“Let them.”

Skin against skin, lips at each other’s necks, warmth flowing between them, growing to a fire. No one had called the constable. When it was through, they lay in each other’s arms, saying nothing. Lisette stared at the moon.

When she sighed, there was melancholy in it, to Theroen’s surprise.

“What is it, Lisette?”

“Theroen, sometimes I think I can see the future.”

Theroen was unsure of how to respond. Lisette sighed again, put her forehead in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, kissed the skin there.

At last he could take the silence no longer. “What do you see?”

No words, for a long time, and then Lisette moved her head, rolled her weight on top of him so she could look into his eyes. There were tears in her own, a first from Lisette. He saw them drop, felt them land, cool on his cheeks. The moon reflected silver in the tracks on her face.

“Darkness, my love. All I see for us is darkness,” Lisette whispered, and putting her head to his chest, she wept.





* * *





Thereon paused for a moment, took a deep breath. Two glanced over at him.

“This is hard for you. I’m sorry, Theroen. You don’t have to tell it.”

Theroen shook his head. “No, it is best that I do. I have kept this story to myself for hundreds of years, and I think perhaps this is why it is still so painful. If I could have brought myself to talk about it, I might have been able to heal. Modern psychology seems to bear that theory out.”

“Could Lisette really tell the future?”

“She was certainly right in this instance. All there was for us, in the end, was darkness.”

“What happened next?”

“Next? It’s funny, in a way. What happened next was done to protect me. Ah, Two, I was young. I was so very young. I had lived for over sixty mortal years, yes, but forty of those were vampire years. They pass in a blur, and contain fewer lessons. There was no death to deal with, aside from the victims. No sickness. No worrying about occupation or supporting a family. There was nothing to make me into a man.

“Lisette knew this, I imagine; she knew how naive I was. Perhaps that is what made her love me. Lisette’s strain is prone to depression, particularly after long stretches of immortality. She was more than eight hundred years old when I met her. I believe that Naomi and I became her anchors. Her reasons for living. She was terrified of what might happen to us, but equally terrified of pushing us away and being alone.”

“What did she do?”

“She told me not to worry about it, to forget her words. I was confused. Upset. To be honest, I was frightened quite severely by this sudden change. I had never seen Lisette weep. In truth, I had never seen her give in to a weakness of any sort. To see her so distraught was disturbing, though I did my best to comfort her. I held her, and she clung to me in a panic for a time. I whispered in her ear that I would make things right, that all would be well. Eventually she regained her composure.”

“Did she explain?”

Theroen shook his head. His voice betrayed more frustration than sorrow. “No. I attempted to learn more from her, but she would say nothing. She dismissed it as the emotional ramblings of a woman, and like a fool I accepted it. The calm, collected, unperturbed Lisette I knew was returning, and I was glad for it. Relieved. I took her at her word. This was a momentary emotional outburst.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No. And looking back on it now, it is obvious. Her entire demeanor changed after that night. She knew that the end was coming, and she hid that knowledge to protect me. Ah, Two, I loved her. I loved her as I love you, but I am so angry with her, to this very day. Furious. Why did she not explain? Combined, prepared, we might have prevented it. There might have been some other alternative.”

“Sometimes people, even people who have been alive for hundreds of years, make mistakes, Theroen.”

Theroen nodded. “Indeed. It is not the mistake that frustrates me. I have only grief for that. It is the knowledge that, if she were here right now and presented the same choices, she would come to the same decisions. She would make the same mistake.”

“But she’s not here, now. Something happened, Theroen.”

“Isaac happened.”

“Isaac?”

“There were other vampires in London during the seventeenth century. Naomi and I did not know, because Lisette had never explained it to us, but there are rules among vampires. Laws. Lisette was breaking them, and by extension, so were we.”

“Normally, fledglings are in great danger if separated from their masters for any extended period of time. Even now, this is sometimes a problem. Rival vampires are likely to attempt to make an example of them. I was tolerated in my separation from Abraham in part because his power was so immense even then that there was concern over what his reaction might be, and in part because of my lineage. Eresh-Chen, first child in a line of first children, dating back to she who was the source of all vampires.

“Traipsing around with Lisette and Naomi, two vampires not of my bloodline who had, it seemed, stolen me from my sire … this was not acceptable. Eventually, disapproval became dislike, and dislike became hate. Isaac used this hate in an attempt to further his own political position among the local vampires. He made an example of Lisette in a bid for power.”

Two looked out at the road ahead. Theroen was not driving at his normal reckless speed, as the road did not have his full attention, but they still drew near to the mansion. “Finish the story, Theroen? I want to know how it ends.”

Theroen nodded. “There is little left to tell, to be honest. Six more months of happiness – forced, on Lisette’s part – before it all ended. I said before that I had never really had call to become a man, in the forty years I spent with Lisette. I made up for that in one night. In one instant.

“When Isaac kicked the door to our apartment in, Lisette did not even flinch. She did not even look up, just continued to stare into the fire. I looked into her eyes and I saw great sadness there, and great fear. I also saw acceptance, and understood that Lisette knew that her death had arrived. In that moment, Two, I aged those forty years.”





* * *





Theroen was on his feet, startled. The door to the apartment had been blown inward, shattered and destroyed. The hulking silhouette in the shadowy entrance did not move, only stared, pale blue eyes shining out at them. Lisette closed her eyes for a moment, touched a hand to her forehead, and turned her head to the door.

“Isaac.”

“Lisette.” The vampire took a step forward, into the light, and surveyed them. He looked for all the world like a Viking in Englishman’s clothing. Tall, well over six feet, with long blonde hair and a heavy blonde beard, Isaac’s vampire nature only added to his already formidable presence. He looked at them with an air that seemed almost detached. There was certainly no fear in him.

“I knew it would be you.”

“Ah. Who else? It is time to pay for your transgressions, Lisette. You must answer for what you’ve done, for thieving away the Eresh-Chen from his master. We will not stand for it any longer. You will release them, and come with me for judgment.”

Lisette shook her head. “I know your judgment already.”

“That may be. You will come with me regardless. Your fledglings may leave. The one you stole from Abraham will have his own judgment to face. The other will be … watched with great interest.”

Theroen took a step forward, meeting the eyes of the vampire in the doorway. “We go nowhere without Lisette.”

“Theroen …” Lisette’s voice was a whisper, the sadness behind it immeasurable.

“Mind your tongue, priest, lest you find it removed from your mouth.”

“You have no right—”

“Fledgling, do you know the concept of seniority? I have lived for more than a thousand years. I have every right, if for no other reason than it will bring me pleasure to see this one punished for her crimes.”

At this Lisette stirred, anger flashing in her eyes. “Crimes? Against whom? I swore no allegiance to your covenant, Isaac, nor that of any other. I am bound by no rules but my own. Your seniority matters not to me, nor does Abraham’s, nor does Edward’s. Eresh herself might give me orders and I would disobey as I see fit. I will not live by rules penned by the dead. I will not!”

Isaac seemed unruffled by this. His expression was amused, detached, a man only passingly interested in what he was hearing.

“You’ve made that obvious, Lisette. I would not be here otherwise.”

“No. And you … you live by rules written by dead vampires who could not have foreseen these times. The old ones are all dead, Isaac, or so disinterested in our affairs that they might as well be. Why do you cling still to their words? Why hold yourself to their useless laws?”

“Sin challas est mura. Si mura vallas etruars.” Isaac seemed to be reciting, as if the sentences had been drilled into him.

“I have read the scrolls, Isaac. Without law there is chaos. With chaos comes destruction. It is due to weaklings like yourself that those words hold true.”

For the first time, her words seemed to have an effect on Isaac. He turned to Lisette, gaze smoldering, a sneer on his lips.

“Weaklings …”

“Mark this, Isaac. You will be undone. You will know fear, and you will remember, in those moments before the eternal sleep, what I have said to you. You will know your weakness, and you will die in shame. That is your curse.”

“I have been cursed by many, Lisette, in my years. Someday, perhaps, I will die. When I go down that black hallway, I will take pleasure in knowing that you went first.”

Isaac moved forward swiftly, grinning, eyes aflame. Naomi shrieked something incoherent, and Theroen leapt out in front of the charging vampire, grappled with him, and was appalled at the strength in those arms. It was like wrestling iron. Lisette screamed his name, the word a desperate plea. Isaac made some noise that was halfway between a laugh and a snarl, grabbed for Theroen’s hair, and by it threw him across the room. The back of Theroen’s head collided with the marble slabs of the fireplace with a flat, harsh cracking noise, and he felt himself moving as though slipping slowly down an incline.

He heard more screams now, Lisette’s, over and over, calling his name. Had Naomi’s voice joined in with hers? Theroen couldn’t tell. It seemed difficult to think. Difficult to breathe. There was the clink of chains, but it was all so dim, so quiet, so distant. Could he hear other footsteps? He thought perhaps the room was flooding with vampires, disciples who had been waiting only for a command from Isaac.

Theroen wanted to move, wanted to help his beloved, but he could not seem to gain control of his limbs, and everything had grown so dark. He slipped into this world of darkness, where nothing seemed to matter, and everything felt safe.





* * *





The blow would have shattered a mortal man’s skull and sprayed its interior contents out across the marble. Theroen, no longer a mortal man, was left with nothing more than an hour of unconsciousness and a splitting headache upon awakening. An hour, though, was too much time. Too much time by far.

Lisette was gone. Naomi was gone. The apartment was dark, empty, abandoned; little more than shattered furniture and scrape marks against the walls were left to tell the story of what had happened. Theroen fled from it, stumbling through the pain in his head out into the night, into darkness. There was no sign of the other vampires, no clue to where they had gone.

Theroen shut his eyes, trying to concentrate through the throbbing, trying to feel Lisette’s presence, as she had taught him to do. There was nothing for him, nothing but the echo of her words, over and over again, in time with the waves of pain and nausea. Darkness, my love. All I see for us is darkness.

Sick, frightened and helpless, Theroen felt his legs buckle, felt the hard cobblestones cut his knees, felt hot tears scald his face. He put his hands there, covering his eyes, and knelt in penitence, praying for salvation to a God in whom he no longer truly believed.





* * *





Theroen was silent, reflecting, lost in his memories. He had recounted this final part of the tale in a voice that was listless, almost dead. Two understood. With pain came emotional detachment. It was a survival instinct, and one with which her days with Darren had made her quite familiar.

She felt vaguely ill. She knew where all this led. There was no redemption. There was only three hundred and fifty years of darkness, followed by her arrival, which in turn had become the catalyst for events that seemed likely to end with more blood, more death, more despair.

“Not your fault, Two. Mine. Death and rebirth. With you I can be free, but as with anything else, there is a price I must pay first.”

“How does this story end, Theroen?”

“I do not know. It is still ongoing. I can tell you how Lisette’s chapter ended, though not in great detail. I know from Abraham’s network of contacts that Lisette was burned alive, chained to a pillar with brush heaped around her. Of Naomi, I know not. The stories are confused … conflicting. Some said she died with her mistress. Some said she was able to escape, to flee into the night. I desperately hope for the latter, but I hold little faith in it. In either case, I could never bring myself to track down the truth. It would have been painful enough to learn for sure that she was dead, and I fear that the judgment in her eyes, should she be alive, would be even more unbearable.”

“And what happened to you? To Isaac?”

“To me? You know the answer there. Lisette was gone. Naomi was gone. Isaac was more powerful than anything I had previously known, save Abraham.

“And so it was Abraham that I turned to.”





* * *





Theroen had not stood in front of the large stone dwelling that housed his father in nearly half a century. He could feel Abraham here and, as ever, that presence disgusted him. The throbbing in his head was distant now; it had faded away to an echo of pain over the course of the lengthy walk. His sire’s mansion loomed before him, Golgotha, the place of death.

Summing up his courage, Theroen walked up the path to the large double doors, rapped once, twice. There was no answer, but he felt the invitation as if on the breeze. Come in, come in. He opened the doors, stepped into the light that burned not for Abraham, but for appearance. Abraham’s quarters would be without light. There, down the hall where the torches lay dark.

Theroen stood outside the doors to Abraham’s sanctuary, wondering what he might say to this creature whose evil he had abandoned. Wondering what vengeance might be exacted for this betrayal.

There was a low chuckle from somewhere beyond the doors, and they swung open before him. All inside was blackness, save the embers of a small fire just inside the doorway. When the voice came, it was from the far end of the hall.

“And so, the prodigal son returns. Come in, Theroen.”

“Abraham. Father.” Theroen stepped into the darkness, and the doors shut behind him. The elder vampire laughed again.

“Oh, and now it’s ‘Father,’ is it? How very delicious. Now that the lover is on the slab, and the dream is over, the fledgling returns to his sire.”

Theroen felt his heart shudder at this. He shut his eyes for a moment, spoke into the darkness. “She is … dead, then?”

“Surely she must be, no? Isaac is many things, but a procrastinator he is not.”

“How much do you know? Could you not have stopped it?”

“Theroen. You never gave me time to teach you! You never wanted to be my son, not after that moment of weakness in the graveyard, after you were accosted by that idiot Leopold. The scrolls speak of many things, and one of them is this: the affairs of others are their own. Certainly, I could have interfered, but these are not my affairs. Your reluctance to be my son has made it so. What concern is any of this to me?”

“And so you did nothing.”

Abraham laughed. “My son, my son … why would I do else? Do we share a bond of love, that I would come from on high to rescue your beloved? No. You have spurned me from the first. Now you come to me with accusations. I am not the guilty party, Theroen. You have not earned the right for such salvation.”

“But it was in your power to grant, as it is within your power to give me revenge.”

“Many things are within my power. Light a candle, Theroen.”

Theroen had no matches, and so used a branch from the fire. The light did little for the room, but he could see Abraham’s face now, the heavy eyebrows overshadowing eyes which gleamed with malefic humor. Abraham looked like a wolf as it gazes upon a herd of sheep. Theroen found he preferred the darkness. Abraham seemed to sense this, and the gleam of his eyes was joined by firelight reflecting from his grin.

“You will never be like me, Theroen.”

“No, father.”

“And yet, some part of me is pleased with your return. A deal, Theroen?”

“Go on.”

“Be my fledgling. Be my servant. Be what you were supposed to be when I made you. Remain here with me, or wherever I may choose to go, until such time as you are of age. Perhaps in a handful of centuries, you will be ready. Some fledglings never leave their masters. My blood runs in you, though, and you are powerful … or will be.

“Now, though? Now you are weak, and in need of a master not so easily dispatched.”

“What do I receive for this service?”

“Ah. Yes. The deal. My end of our little … bargain. Remain with me here, Theroen, prove your loyalty, and perhaps I will look more kindly upon you. Perhaps I will see your plight with Isaac in more sympathetic light.”

“Perhaps? It seems an unbalanced arrangement, father.”

“I do not think, my son, that you are in a position to make any demands at this time. I will assuage your doubts, however. I am many things, and most of those are evil. Wicked. Hateful. I hold no love for any vampire. I hold no respect for the scrolls, short of how I may use them to my advantage. Isaac and I are bound to come into conflict. I know of his foolish politics. He would oust all competition and gain control of London. I could leave, or simply ignore him, but I could be persuaded to take a more … active interest.

“Serve me now, Theroen, and when that time comes I will give you not only Isaac’s head, but those of his entire line.”

Theroen was young, still gripped by mortal concepts like revenge. Still able to hate. He felt this hatred now, burning hot like something molten inside of him.

“Ah, son, such emotion! Isaac has left you alive. Would you not give him the same courtesy?”

“There is nothing else left for me, without her, but my hate. Isaac took from me everything I had. I would not.”

“Then we have a deal?”

“We do, father.”

There was a moment of quiet as the two vampires surveyed each other. At last, Abraham turned back to whatever lay on the desk, beyond the reach of the light.

“Put out the candle. There is a room for you in the west wing. I shall call upon you tomorrow.”

Theroen, as he would for centuries thereafter, did what he was told.





* * *





“And that is all there is, or nearly so. I could tell you lies. I could tell you that I worked for goodness, even in Abraham’s service, but that is hardly true. I’ve done many things that humans would consider evil for Abraham, and I regret very few of them, beyond bringing Melissa and Tori to him. I held my own goodness close. I would not tarnish Lisette’s memory by returning to my former ways.

“I was hated, greatly, by some for my continued existence after my transgressions with Lisette. Abraham’s power protected me where hers could not, and in time, my own was more than adequate for the task. Of those vampires left that might be capable of bringing about my destruction, none care enough anymore to bother. The old hate is gone.”

Two stirred, stretched, felt the rush of air through her fingers. She should be freezing, driving in late November with the top down. The only cold she felt was internal.

“Isaac?” she asked at last.

“Isaac. Yes, Isaac died badly. I was present for it, but I found that I took little real pleasure in his destruction. A certain … mortal need for revenge was served, but after that I had before me only endless years as Abraham’s servant.

“Lisette’s words proved true, though. Isaac knew fear. He knew his weakness, and he died in shame. Abraham had him bound and gagged, hung upside-down, so the blood would go to his head and keep him alive while his skin was flayed from his body and he was unmanned and disemboweled.

“Abraham brought out his children, his fledglings. Isaac had three of them. And in front of him, while he wept, Abraham cut their heads from their bodies and burned them to ash. I was not sorry. All three had taken part in Lisette’s abduction.

“At the end, when Abraham removed his gag, Isaac could not even speak coherently. Terror, sorrow, and pain had combined to rob him of his senses. He wept and pleaded, some of the words in the vampire language that Abraham has never allowed me to learn, and Abraham did him a favor and cut his head from his body.”

“Jesus …”

“It was something less than pretty. I watched from a distance, but I made sure Isaac could see me. Oh, I made very sure of that. I am not proud of these things, Two, but I do not regret them, either.”

Two was quiet for a moment, thinking the story over in her mind. What would it be like if someone swooped in and took Theroen from her now? How could she go on?

Theroen smiled at this. They were very near the mansion now.

“Two, there is no one left to do so. Abraham has known for many years now that the time of my leaving was imminent. He does not have to like it, but he will permit it.”

To Two, this was somehow little comfort.





* * *





They rounded a corner, and the mansion came into view. Two felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, followed by a slow, crawling dread. Theroen grimaced. At the end of the driveway, nearly hidden in shadow, stood a massive black figure that could only be Abraham. The Ferrari moved up the gradual slope of the long hill, and the creature’s face came into the headlights. The light seemed to shy away from him, illuminating his features only grudgingly.

Two felt locked in place, unable to move. Theroen shut off the car, and Abraham was plunged once again into darkness.

“I have awaited your arrival, my son.” Abraham’s voice was less heard than felt, like slugs crawling through Two’s head.

“Have you, father? I thought I had fulfilled my duties for the evening.”

“Yes. Yes, well enough. There is much we must talk about.”

“It would appear so. You are aware of Missy’s transgression, then?”

“I was aware while it happened, Theroen. You know this.”

Theroen nodded. “With respect, father, may we talk in private?”

“You would not expose your pretty fledgling to me any more than is necessary, would you, Theroen? Afraid of corruption, perhaps?”

Theroen said nothing. Abraham smiled, fangs reflecting silver-white moonlight from amidst the shadow of his face. His eyes burned red, that same dark humor behind them.

“Very well. If your daughter, or lover, or whatever it is you’ve made of her, can move, she is free to do so.”

Two realized that this creature was reveling in her obvious fear, and it was this, more than anything else, that gave her the strength to get up. She moved on wooden legs away from the door, wanting to glance back at Theroen, afraid to do so. As she passed behind Abraham, she felt his mind touch hers once, like the dirty groping fingers of a licentious old man. The feeling reminded her very much of her time working clients for Darren, and her instincts lashed out, angry, against it.

Abraham turned casually toward her, and with what seemed no more than a flick of his wrist, grabbed her shoulder and whirled her around to face him. The force was immense, nearly dislocating the joint and Two hissed at the pain that lanced through her. Abraham’s touch revolted her, burned into her skin through the thin leather jacket like hot iron. The sight of his eyes drained her of anger, left only a numb fear unlike anything she had felt before. Primitive, primeval, beyond consciousness. She wanted to weep, to cry out, to do anything but look at this thing before her.

“Do not forget whose blood runs in your veins, my dear, impudent little bitch. Your lover may defy me, on occasion. He has earned that right through time and service. You have not.”

“Father …” Theroen’s voice was strained, not with fear this time, Two thought, but with something beyond loathing. Two’s vision began to swim, and she realized she had not taken a breath since Abraham had laid his hand upon her. She tried now, and found she could not. Her eyes, her lungs, were locked by Abraham’s gaze. Adrenaline coursed through her body, her heart beating furiously, but to no avail. The world began to go grey, and Two felt her legs weakening.

“If you kill her, Abraham, be prepared to kill me as well. I shall surely attempt to do so to you.” Theroen’s voice held no tension, now, only a cold, deadly seriousness.

At this, Abraham grinned, and took his eyes away from Two. She slumped to the gravel, gasping for breath, head throbbing sickly. Theroen made to help her up, and Abraham put a hand out, restraining him.

“Come, my son. Walk with me. Two is Eresh-Chen, now. She can find her way to her feet on her own.” He walked toward the edge of the grounds, where grass met forest, as if a refusal were impossible.

Theroen cast a glance at Two, and she nodded, motioning him away. She had drawn herself into something of a sitting position, propped up on her arms, legs stretched out to her side. She thought she would very soon be sick, and she didn’t want Theroen to see it. His jaw clenched momentarily, his hate for Abraham clearly visible on his face. Then it was gone, replaced with that same calm that she had seen so many times before. He nodded, turned and followed his father.

When they were safely out of sight, Two struggled to her feet. She managed two steps, head still thudding, enough to lean against the wall of the mansion’s garage as she coughed and dry-heaved. Her body had already absorbed the night’s blood, and after a few more attempts, it gave up trying to expel what wasn’t there. Two leaned against the wall for a few moments longer, shuddering, waiting for the awful, spinning blackness at the edges of her vision to clear. In time, it did, and she shuffled her way into the mansion.





* * *