The Blood That Bonds

Chapter 5

A Tooth for a Tooth





The mansion. The next evening.





Two was used to this new style of waking, now. Instantly alert, instantly aware. She stretched, ran a hand through her hair, and sat up, looking around the empty room. Theroen had not returned before sleep had taken her the night before, and he was not here now.

The house had been devoid of life when she had entered it the previous evenings. Melissa’s room was dark and empty. No noise came from the cell in the basement. Two had made her way to the room she shared with Theroen, exhausted and shaken from her encounter with Abraham, and promptly collapsed into unconsciousness.

A shower seemed like a good way of prolonging the time before she would have to leave the room and face the dark things growing outside. Two sighed, padded her way to the bathroom on bare feet, and lost herself for a time in torrents of warm water.





* * *





One of the televisions downstairs was on. She could hear it as she left the bathroom. Two pulled on clothes, ran a brush through her hair, and departed. She descended the arching staircase and turned into the room she had come to think of as the media center. Large televisions, three of them, each at least four feet tall, lined one wall. Discreet wooden units housed their audio components. Couches were arranged in front of the screens. Most of the clutter that seemed to choke the rest of the mansion was missing from this room, perhaps because it was one of the few areas of the building that received frequent use.

Theroen reclined on one of the couches, and his presence confirmed that it was Melissa who sat on another. Two found it unlikely he would tolerate Missy, particularly given recent events.

As if to confirm this, Melissa turned to her and spoke. “We were wondering if you were ever going to wake up.” She tried for a smile, managed something like one, and then looked away. Two sat down next to Theroen, who adjusted his position to allow her to recline against his chest. He said nothing.

“It was a long night,” Two said.

“Tell me about it.” Melissa sighed, shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Melissa. For whatever that’s worth.”

Melissa offered her another smile, sad, but more sincere than the last.

“I know. We need to talk about it, don’t we?” she asked. Theroen nodded. Two felt the movement. Melissa bit her lip, glanced at the TV, muted it.

“Where do we start?” Two questioned. Melissa shrugged. Theroen sighed.

“Let’s begin with a lesson on vampire biology,” he said. “How do you feel right now, Melissa?”

“Exhausted,” Melissa admitted, after a moment.

Theroen nodded. “Indeed. Certainly not in any shape to undergo the rigors of finishing the process that was started last night. In fact, your blood is so weakened at the moment that the process would not even advance. Missy is, of course, unaware of this, but at best Samantha will remain a half-vampire for decades or centuries.”

Two turned her head up to glance at Theroen. “Why?”

“Melissa’s blood needs time to rejuvenate. But to remain a half-vampire, Samantha needs periodic infusions of that blood. Before Melissa could strengthen enough to complete Samantha’s transformation, she will either have to give the girl blood in order to keep her a half-vampire, or allow her to revert. If she allows the latter, then when she again tries to make Samantha into a vampire, it will be to the same result. Melissa will not be prepared to create a fledgling for hundreds of years yet.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Great.”

“Such is the nature of our particular strain. This, of course, is the least of our current problems. It is just the most easily discussed. There are other things of which we need to speak, Melissa.”

The dark-haired vampire on the couch across from them was quiet for a long time. Finally she said, “I’ve known Missy for a long time. There, I said it. I’ve never said her name before. Missy. I hate that name. I hated it before she even existed. But I knew her before she existed. She … Abraham didn’t create her, exactly. He just woke her up. She was just a dream before that; something that only came occasionally, and brought nightmares where I did awful things.

“I hated those dreams. Not because they were frightening, or awful, but because in the moments right after I woke up, I could feel her. I could understand the appeal. Christ, I’d wake up totally f*cking aroused, like a part of me I couldn’t feel when I was awake not only enjoyed the things in those dreams, but got off on them.

“The pain of the blood, Abraham’s blood … it brought her out. It spoke to her like nothing I had ever allowed into my life. Once she woke up, she didn’t want to go back. She can’t take over … not yet. She has to wait until I’m asleep. But she can keep me out for longer and longer each time, and she can let me back in whenever she wants. She’s stronger than I am. She spends more and more time with my body. Eventually, what happens? I wake up next to a half-vampire I don’t even know, and find out that it’s my blood that did it.

“So that’s when I really knew. This body is Missy’s. I’m just along for the ride until she beats me back completely. Then I’ll be the dream, I guess. Maybe I can give her nightmares.”

Two opened her mouth to say something, and could think of nothing to say. Melissa wasn’t telling them anything they didn’t already know. She was simply admitting the truth to herself.

Melissa was crying now, unable to look at them. “When you first told me about Two, Theroen, you said you thought you would stay here maybe twenty years. Twenty years? I’m not sure you’ll last another twenty days. I could never read people like you could, and I could never read you … but I’ve been able to all the time for the last few weeks. Escape. Escape. It’s like a flashing neon sign in your head.

“And I can’t even b—bring myself to hate you for it. Either of you. It’s not your fault, and I know it, and that makes it so hard.”

Theroen stirred. Two shifted her weight, allowing him to sit up. He looked at Melissa and when he spoke, his voice retained its nearly ever-present calm, but there was deep sympathy in it, and an almost heart-breaking sadness. “A hundred and twenty years, Melissa. It comes and goes like the wind, and I hate myself for all of this, even if you cannot.”

“Don’t.”

Theroen shrugged. It can’t be helped.

“I don’t want her to win, Theroen, but she’s going to.”

Two spoke up. “Does she have to? Is there any other way?”

Theroen answered her. “I don’t know, Two. We have little time to find out.”

“Why?”

“There are two things eating away from our time here, my own desire to leave not included. The first is Samantha. She will wake, soon, and that will force a decision on her fate. A minor matter, perhaps. Perhaps not. The second is Abraham, who has instructed me of his desires. He wants us gone, Two, the sooner the better. As Melissa said, we will not be here another twenty days, but not because of any desire on my part. He says he has grown tired of me. As for Missy, Samantha, Tori—he has told me that when we leave, we must not take them with us.”

Melissa made a quiet sobbing noise. She was not looking at them, was instead watching the silent images on the television.

“What if you killed Abraham?” Two stood up, paced back and forth a few times, then looked at Theroen. He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head slightly, said nothing.

“I’m serious. What would happen to you? To Melissa? To Tori and Samantha and me?”

“This is an unwise avenue of discussion.”

“Is he really that powerful? Is it impossible?”

“That and more. Abraham has studied long in vampire lore. He is very aware of his capabilities, and has pushed those boundaries further than perhaps any other living vampire. He revealed a rather startling talent to me last night, unwittingly I think, when he caught your breath. I knew that in close proximity, his power over others’ minds was significant, but I did not know that he could allow you full reign of your thoughts while controling otherwise involuntary functions. I do not know how to do that, do not know how he did it, and do not know how to fight it.”

“Okay, but suppose somehow he died. We can’t kill him. Fine. But say tomorrow Abraham … I don’t know … gets hit with a nuclear bomb and is turned to ashes. What would happen to us?”

“Us. Very well, Two. On a purely speculative basis – as what you speak of is simply not a possibility for a wide variety of reasons – I think I can answer that. What happens when the head of a line dies? It depends on the age of his children, and the type of vampire.

“If you kill an Eresh vampire, his children may be significantly weakened. Certainly any half-vampire he has created will revert to human form. Full vampires may or may not revert, depending on the amount of time that has passed since the change. If someone killed me, Two, you would revert to human form in a matter of weeks. You’ve not been changed nearly long enough for it to ‘stick,’ so to speak.

“If someone, somehow, killed Abraham, the effects would be less drastic. Melissa and I have made the change completely and will not revert. Tori might revert, but I have no way of knowing if her mind would return with her humanity, and at this point the physical changes may not completely fade. It is possible that she would be very strong and very fast, for a human being … comparable perhaps to one of the other vampire strains. There would be no effect on Samantha, or on you, if Abraham were killed.

“So, continuing this interesting but, unfortunately, rather useless line of thought, if Abraham were killed, it would have little effect on the present situation, beyond possibly allowing Samantha the opportunity to return to her normal life, since he would no longer consider her his property.”

Two watched him, frustrated, knowing that he would not lie to her, but unwilling to believe that defeating Abraham was not within some realm of possibility. No guarantees on Melissa, Theroen had said, but would it not at least give them more time to work on helping her rid herself of Missy?

“It would indeed.” Theroen had picked up her thoughts. “But that in itself is not a guarantee, and an attempt on Abraham’s life would assuredly lead only to the cessation of our own. If Karma exists, I’ve been living on borrowed time since Lisette … died. But I could not bring myself to sacrifice your life so needlessly.”

“We have to do something, Theroen.”

“Yes, we do, but the choice is not ours, Two. We have three options. The first is the easiest, at least for us: we leave. Melissa, Tori, and Samantha stay. The second: we stay for as long as possible, against Abraham’s will. Melissa is eventually engulfed by Missy; Samantha is kept in a state of half-vampirism indefinitely and is likely warped by Missy’s teachings; Tori continues her mad existence; and eventually Abraham’s evil drives me away. In the interim, there will be little other than despair, and the end result is no different from the first option.

“Then there is the third …”

Melissa had turned to listen to Theroen again, and her eyes said she knew what he was to say. Theroen grimaced, looked at his sister with deep, sad eyes, and continued.

“The third is a possibility that Abraham must know is in consideration. He has known me for too long not to guess that I would offer my sister this choice: if she wishes, she and Tori will die by my hand. That is the third option. Had Abraham expressly forbid it last night, I would have acceded. He did not. He told me only that he wished that they remain here. He has left me to make my own decision on how to interpret that.”

Melissa’s eyes were hard and glassy, but if more sobbing threatened, she held it at bay. She met Theroen’s gaze, her mouth a thin, white line. Two looked between both of them, and at last shook her head.

“No. That’s crazy. There’s a fourth alternative, whether you want to admit it or not, Theroen. The fourth is that we attempt the impossible and try to kill him. We have to!”

It was Melissa who spoke.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Two. I’m going to die. Pick any scenario, and at the end of it, I still die. I’d rather not go with your life, and Theroen’s, on my conscience.”

“But if he dies, maybe Missy will …”

“Disappear? I told you, Two. I’ve known Missy for a very long time now. Abraham woke her up, yes, but she doesn’t intend to be put back to sleep. If I believed there was the slightest chance of that, I might agree with you, but even then probably not. So put it out of your head, now. You’re going to get yourself killed talking like that.”

Theroen waved his hand, dismissing the idea. “Abraham knows the difference between threat and idle speculation. If anything, hearing Two speak in this manner would only amuse him. Were you to attempt to kill him, Two, I do not think he would be particularly upset with you. He would likely welcome the entertainment. He would destroy you, of course, but he would do it smiling.

“We cannot fight him, and even if we could, even if we pulled off the miraculous, what would be the purpose? The inevitable end for those we would be trying to save does not change. It is too much risk for no reward.”

“Well that’s f*cking great. I hate all of the choices, Theroen.” Two was beyond anger. Beyond tears. Her voice was hollow, exasperated, depleted of hope. Melissa gave her a look of sympathetic commiseration, as if Two was the true victim.

“I’m not fond of any of them myself. I’m not entirely certain which I would choose, if the choice were mine. It is not. Melissa knows, has known for decades, that it is not. The choice lies with her, and I will abide by her decision, even if she chooses your fourth scenario.”

Melissa sighed, shut her eyes, leaned back against the couch. Tears, tinged pink with blood, slipped down her face, but she did not lose her composure. After a long minute in which Two felt as if her own heart had ceased to beat, Melissa looked up at the ceiling, and then over at Theroen. Her face was hard, and rage danced behind her eyes. Rage at them? Rage at Abraham? Rage at the situation? Two could not tell.

“I want a promise.”

“Anything, Melissa.”

“Take Samantha with you. Don’t leave her behind. Don’t leave her here for him. I know it goes against what he asked, but I can’t do that. She’s just a human. Promise me you’ll take her and get her home. You can make her forget. Will you promise?”

“You have my word, Melissa.”

“Good. Then I want you to kill me. I’d rather you than that bitch who shares this body. Kill me, and kill Tori, and when Abraham rages, spit in his f*cking face and tell him it’s from me.”





* * *





It had been twenty minutes since Melissa had departed, and Two still felt numb. There had been little more conversation after Melissa’s choice. She had asked Theroen when, and he had said only, “Not yet.”

Melissa had nodded, and left to hunt. The expression on her face was dark and distant, and Two did not envy whomever Melissa might choose as a victim.

Theroen sighed, stood, turned off the television. He turned to Two, his face set in its typical expression. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Two admitted. “But I think if I drink right now, it’ll overwhelm me. I’d never be able to stop crying. How can it be like this, Theroen? Why aren’t there more choices?”

“Abraham makes it so. His age, his power, his will. There is something I neglected to mention to Melissa, something that makes me willing to risk his wrath and do as she asks. He believes he has found a way to make more children.”

“I don’t understand,” Two said. Theroen was quiet for a moment, organizing his thoughts. At last he continued.

“Eresh blood is too weak to make fledglings for a very long time, and then within a century or two, it becomes too strong. The power of the blood makes our offspring go mad, as Melissa and Tori have. Another few decades, and the fledglings begin simply dying from shock.

“Through great study, and having watched your progression, Abraham believes he has learned how to dilute his blood and, by doling it out in minute increments over a lengthy period of time, create a sane fledgling.

“I left this out because Melissa does not need to know. It is bad enough that Missy will engulf her, let alone that she someday will become useless to Abraham entirely. When that happens, Abraham will butcher Melissa, Tori, and Samantha without a second thought. Whatever death I can offer Melissa will be much better than anything Abraham might deliver.”

“God, Theroen. How can you talk about this? How can you be this … this …”

“This cold? I have been contemplating it for decades, Two, as I have said. Melissa’s fate is of great importance to me. I wish I could provide her with more choices. I wish I could save her, but I don’t know how. Every emotional fiber of my being screams against the decisions that are being made here. But I don’t know what else to do.

“The young man whose body I occupy is still here, somewhere, Two. Vampires do not age as human beings do, and the hot blood of youth is still very close to the surface in me. I simply have centuries of practice controlling it. That young man rages against this. He would try your impossible deed, if I let him.

“I have firsthand experience, awful beyond description, that vampires of my age and power can be killed easily by their elders. Lisette’s destruction came at the hands of a vampire only a few hundred years her senior, and that vampire lived only ten more years before Abraham destroyed him. It has been centuries since those events, and Abraham has only grown more powerful. If we challenge him, we will die.”

Two opened her mouth to reply to this, when a scream, long and wailing, echoed from somewhere below them. She shut her mouth with a snap, eyes wide, looking at the floor.

“Samantha awakens,” said Theroen.





* * *





It was Two who went down to see the girl. She had asked to, and Theroen had simply held his palms up to the air. Be my guest. Two wondered if sometimes he understood her motivations better than she did herself. Two did not know why she needed to talk to this half-vampire woman whom she had never met. Two only knew that it felt right, and after a life guided mainly by instinct, she had learned to trust her feelings.

She knew the girl could hear her footsteps, coming down the long stone staircase. She could sense a sudden panic, could hear already rushed breathing speed to a near hysterical pace. She spoke into the darkness: “I’m not going to hurt you, Samantha.”

The girl’s panic seemed to break, and she found her voice, questions bubbling out of her like water. “Who are you? Where am I? What’s happening to me? Where am I? Help me! Where are you? You have to help me!”

Two’s eyes were better than a human’s now, and even in the dark she could see the bars of the cell, could see the girl behind them, on her knees, shuddering. Samantha was wearing a pair of jeans and a loose, brightly-colored blouse. No socks, no shoes. Two tried to remember waking up in that cell. Only a few weeks ago. It seemed forever.

“I’m going to light a candle. There’s one down here. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re fine, and I’m here to help. Try to relax, if you can. It will be better for you.”

Samantha lapsed into gulping, panicky breaths, staring out into the darkness. Only half-vampire, her vision was not as good as Two’s. There was a candle on a small table by the cell, a box of matches sitting beside it. Two struck one, and held it to the wick. The flame glowed and flickered, casting enough light that Samantha was able to pinpoint Two’s whereabouts. She scurried down the length of the bars, pressed up against them, held her hand out, and cried, “Help me! Help me!”

Two sat on the floor and extended her hand. Samantha gripped it tightly, enough so that the pressure would have been painful, if Two were still human.“Samantha. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re not hurt.”

“I feel wrong. Help me!”

Two laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, I imagine you do. Let me guess: right now you can hear better than you ever could before, and see better in this light than you should be able. Am I right?”

“Yes. I … yes.”

“Okay. Look … I’ve been through this, and I’m okay. You’re okay too, I promise. Can you take the facts straight, Samantha?”

Her matter-of-fact tone was working. Samantha closed her eyes and, with visible effort, forced herself to breathe deeply, to get control of herself. Her grip on Two’s hand loosened slightly.

“Just tell me,” She said after a moment.

“How much do you remember?”

“I don’t know. I was … I was at the club. Some Goth chick kept smiling at me, and I couldn’t stop staring at her. Look, I’m not normally into that, okay? I couldn’t help it. I remember finally getting up to go talk to her … and then I woke up in this f*cking hole.”

Two nodded, and said, “Okay, well, here it comes. When you don’t believe it, I’ll prove it to you. But I’ll tell you first. Last night you came home with a vampire named Missy. You uh … hooked up with her, and she bit you, and drank a lot of your blood. Normally you’d either die, or wake up somewhere and not remember anything, but she decided to give you some of her blood in return. Since she didn’t drain you all the way, you’re not completely a vampire yet, but you’re about halfway there. After that it gets … complicated.”

The girl was silent for a long time. Her response, when it came, didn’t surprise Two much.

“What?”

“I know it sounds hard to believe …”

“Hard to believe?” Samantha gave a tiny, hysterical laugh. “Hard to f*cking believe? I pass out somewhere, and I wake up in a f*cking prison, and some random chick comes down and tells me that I’m in some f*cking Brad Pitt movie, and it’s only ‘hard to believe’? Dios … this is f*cking impossible!”

“It’s not impossible. Trust me.”

Samantha pulled her hand from Two’s and gripped the bars, stared out at her, furious. “Listen, you crazy bitch, I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what the f*ck hallucinations you’re having. Tell me where the f*ck I am, and then let me go. Right now.”

Two felt anger for a moment, and forced herself to react as Theroen would. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, they were calm.

“Samantha …”

“Sam. Everyone calls me Sam.”

“Sam. Get up. Go look in that mirror on the wall. You couldn’t see it in the dark, but I know from experience that the candle’s more light than your eyes need, now. Go look, and tell me how hard it is to believe.”

Sam stared at her for a moment, then curled her lip in defiance and stood up. She took two quick strides over to the mirror and peered into it. Her reaction was immediate, and very similar to what Two’s had been. She flinched, stumbled, fell backwards, crying out: “Jesus!”

What had Theroen said? Jesus has nothing to do with this.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

Two watched as Sam covered her face with her hands and wept.





* * *





“I’m dreaming.” Sam was staring at Two with horrified eyes. Two had not moved, was still sitting Indian-style on the cold stone floor. She shook her head.

“No.”

“Then I’m insane. Locked up somewhere. Hallucinating. Someone gave me some bad acid. Something …”

“No.”

“How can you say ‘No’? This shit is not possible.”

“I sometimes find it hard to believe, myself. I’ve only been a vampire for a few days, and I was human less than a month ago. You grow accustomed to it pretty quickly, though.”

“Somebody wake me up,” Sam moaned.

Two shrugged. “Okay. I don’t really care whether you accept this or not, right now. How about this? At least play along. It will make things easier in the long run.”

Sam sighed, shrugged, said, “Fine. You’re a vampire. I’m a vampire, too, I guess? What do we do now?”

“Do you want to get out of the cell? I can take you upstairs to meet the others … or Theroen, at least.”

“Who’s Theroen?”

“Theroen and the girl who made you, Missy, were made by the same vampire. If you follow the whole vampire lineage thing, I guess he’s something like your uncle.”

Sam grimaced. “If I pretend to believe you, will you let me out of here?”

“You have to promise me a few things.”

“Like?”

“Like first, you’re not going to bolt out the door the moment I open it. You wouldn’t make it past me, and you definitely wouldn’t make it out of the mansion. Theroen would know what you were doing before you got up the steps. Even if you did get outside, you’d have to deal with Tori, and I think she’d probably kill you. So when I open the bars, let’s stay calm, okay?”

“I can do that, I guess.”

“Good. Second, try to keep an open mind. I know how hard that is … believe me, I know. Try to at least give what you’re seeing and hearing a chance, before shutting it all out.”

“I … okay, I’ll try.” Sam didn’t sound like she held much faith in herself on this point, but at least she had regained some of her composure. Two produced the key Theroen had given her, unlatched the door, and opened it.

“Okay. Let’s go upstairs.”





* * *





It was evident to Two, simply by the expression on Sam’s face, that she was no more accustomed to such opulence than Two had been. Sam seemed unable to decide what to look at first, and was moving her head about in quick motions, like a bird, taking it all in.

“Interesting, huh?” Two was walking slightly behind Sam, letting the girl take her own meandering course through the first floor’s many interlocking rooms.

“It’s incredible.”

There was silence for a time, as they walked. Eventually, Sam spoke again.

“So … you said the girl I met in the bar was Missy, right?”

“Yes, her name is Missy.”

“Who are you?”

Two laughed. She’d forgotten to introduce herself.

“My name’s Two. Like the number. It’s a long story.”

“Do you live here?”

“I do now, yes. For the time being, anyway. Like I said before, I’m pretty new to all of this myself.”

“Did Missy do this to you, too?”

Two suppressed a shudder. “No. Missy is, well … it’s complicated. Missy is Theroen’s sister, so to speak—sister vampire anyway; the same person made both of them. She and Theroen, and another girl, Tori, were created by the elder vampire who lives in the other wing of the mansion. His name’s Abraham, and if you never meet him, then consider yourself lucky.

“Theroen created me, but I’m not really his daughter. More like his girlfriend or wife, I guess. Like I said: complicated.”

Sam said nothing. She glanced briefly at Two, and the expression spoke volumes about her skepticism.

“I know you don’t believe me, Sam. Just … let’s go on, okay? Maybe Theroen can convince you.”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Theroen was nowhere to be found. Eventually, Two lead Sam back to the media room. “We might as well wait here for him. You can watch TV or something.”

“I want to get out of here.”

“We can’t, yet. You need to talk to Theroen first. Trust me.”

“Why?”

Two opened her mouth to explain, but before she could, they were interrupted. The mansion’s front door opened, closed, latched. Footsteps in the hall, growing louder, coming toward them. Two turned, expecting Theroen. She was greeted instead by a nightmare.





* * *





Missy. It had to be Missy. She was standing in the doorway, drenched in blood. The red liquid coated her face, her neck, the collar and upper buttons of her blouse. Her hair was tousled. Her eyes burned like embers.

“What are you doing in this room, with my child?” Missy’s voice was calm, but her expression bore malice beyond anything Two had thought possible. She leaned her weight on one hand, resting on the door frame. Her fingernails made repeated clicks against the beveled wood.

Two breathed deeply, steeled herself, met Missy’s gaze and held it.

“Talking.”

“If I wanted you talking with her, I would have given you my permission.”

“You weren’t around. Your better half went out hunting.”

Missy retained her composure, but her lip curled up at this. She glared at Two for a moment, and then her lips formed a smile. Her eyes still held nothing but hate.

“The woman you’re referring to is gone. She gave up. She let me in. First time in my life I haven’t had to wait for the stupid bitch to go to sleep to take over. She just … gave up. It was marvelous. She gave me control, and that tells me everything. I know it, and she knows it: I am the better half.”

Two opened her mouth to reply to this, and Missy held up her hand.

“Save it. Melissa’s stupid and scatterbrained and she doesn’t remember anything about me, but I remember lots of things from her time in this body. Like what Theroen’s planning. His little parting gift to his sisters. I know all about your little plot: the priest and the prostitute, safe and happy and away. I know what Theroen has planned for me and Tori.

“But oh, Two, he doesn’t know what I have planned for you!”

Without further warning, Missy sprung forward into the room, moving at the same uncanny speed that Two had seen before, in the forest. Sam shrieked something incoherent, terror in her voice. Two felt adrenaline flood her body, felt herself springing to her feet as if propelled by some outside force. She shoved the sofa at Missy and backed away, holding her hands up. Her hip bumped an end table, and she put it between herself and her oncoming attacker.

Missy vaulted the sofa with ease, came to rest on the carpet in front of it, and leapt again in one fluid motion. Her timing was nearly perfect, and Two was only able to dodge out of the way by fractions of a second. Missy hit the hard oak end table with the full force of her weight, and it shattered under the impact, vomiting pieces of itself in a spray around the room. Two dodged flying debris and moved behind the couch, looking for escape. The door led to the hall, but then what? Missy would catch her before she reached the mansion’s entrance.

The other vampire, the woman who shared the body with someone Two considered a friend, almost a sister, was back on her feet and raving.

“You weak, stupid, useless whore! Where is your protector? Your lover? Your Superman? He is with Abraham. Abraham called to him, and he went, and left you helpless. I’m going to bring Abraham your heart on a plate, and he’ll laugh and laugh, and there’s nothing Theroen will be able to do about it!”

“Missy, Missy, wait! You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be like that!” Two heard herself speaking, heard the fear in her voice, and could accept it. It was the tone that made her hate herself. The pleading tone sounded like old memories, like her time with Darren, like empty despair. This situation was out of Two’s control and there was no hope for salvation. Theroen was not here to swoop in and save her.

Missy snarled, racing around one edge of the couch. Two moved swiftly to the other, keeping the sofa between herself and Missy’s claws, hooked into talons and ready to tear at flesh. Her foot landed on something: a table leg. It rolled, and Two was unable to cope with the sudden shift in balance. She stumbled backward, fell to the carpet and landed on her back with a thud. The plush softness of the material seemed somehow obscene in light of the situation.

Missy howled in triumph and flung herself again into the air, so fast that Two could barely track her movement. It was too late to roll, too late to dodge, too late to do anything. Time seemed to stretch out. Missy was in the air above her, a vision of death and hate and horror unlike any Two had ever beheld. Two’s hands scrabbled at her sides, looking for something, anything. Her hands touched something cylindrical, grabbed it in a panic, brought it in front of her.

The table leg.

Twelve inches long, three in diameter, the leg had splintered into a sharp point when the table had disintegrated. Two held it out against the oncoming impact in desperation. Missy’s eyes flared wide in surprise just before she landed.

The sound the piece of oak made as it entered Missy’s breastplate was indescribable. Splitting flesh, cleaving through bone, it pierced her body, the force of her landing driving it further and further in. Two felt a sudden liquid warmth gush across her hands. She shoved out and up, flipping the girl over on her back. Missy somersaulted, flailed in the air, and crashed to the floor on her back. Two rolled away, blood on her hands, her clothes, the carpet, everywhere.

Missy was making strangled choking noises, clawing at the stake in her chest, unable to get a decent handhold through the blood and the pain. She writhed on the floor, unable to lie flat. The point of the table leg held her back in an arched position. She screamed, and the scream became wet and strained, filling the air with red mist. Then she fell back again and was still.





* * *





Two lay on the ground, waiting for her limbs to stop shaking. It seemed an eternity but was in truth only moments. She pushed herself to a sitting position and looked at the body on the floor in front of her. She was vaguely aware of Sam’s presence beside her. The half-vampire spoke, her voice taut and breathy with tension. “Holy shit!”

The body on the floor jerked at this sound, arms flailing, and clawed at the entertainment center to its left. Missy’s nails dug into the wood, splintering it. With an effort, she hauled herself upward, leaning against the wall, coughing blood. She brought her feet around and slumped into a sitting position, leaning against the cabinet, looking at the stake in her chest.

“Oh, God,” Two moaned. She scrambled backward on her hands, like a crab, away from the figure.

At this, the girl’s head jerked upward. Her eyes locked with Two’s. Not Missy’s eyes, Two realized. Melissa’s.

“Oh, God!” Two cried. “Oh, no! Melissa …” She crawled back toward Melissa. The wood had pierced the lower part of Melissa’s breastplate, traveling at an upward path and emerging just to the left of her spine, some six inches above the spot it had entered. Not knowing what else to do, Two grasped at the stake and began to tug, trying to pull it from her friend’s body.

Melissa regarded her calmly, opened her mouth, tried to talk. A crimson bubble formed, burst at her lips, and the words came.

“Two. Two, stop. It hurts. Please stop.”

Two stopped, looked at Melissa, tried to say something that would make up for what she had done, and instead burst into tears.

Melissa took her hand.

“It’s okay, Two. Thank you. She’s gone. She’s dead, Two. You killed her. Thank you. I’m dying too, I guess, but that’s okay. I told you: I was going to die anyway.”

Two was making whimpering sounds, between her sobs. She wanted words to come. She wanted to apologize, to take it back somehow. Her throat seemed incapable of forming articulate sound. She pressed her forehead against Melissa’s, tilted it up, pressed her lips against the bridge of Melissa’s nose.

“Sisters.” Melissa’s voice was weakening. She turned her head, coughed blood again, looked at Two in apology. Two reached out and smoothed Melissa’s hair away from her eyes.

“It’s not so bad. It’s all right. I don’t even feel it anymore. I’m all numb. It’s not so bad, Two. It’s not so bad, Theroen.”

Melissa’s eyes moved away from Two, focused on a point behind her. Theroen stood in the doorway, motionless. His expression was calm, almost peaceful, but there were tears in his eyes.

“Is it not, Melissa?” he asked.

“No. Theroen?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you … for being my friend for all these years. You gave me more than I deserved.”

“Melissa. My sister, you deserve far more than anything I could ever have given.”

Melissa closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, looked back at Two. Her voice was little more than the movement of air past her lips.

“You’re going to be a wonderful vampire. He loves you. An eternity of love, Two. Don’t cry.”

Two found her voice at last, a brittle croak that made her throat ache. “I’m sorry for this, Melissa. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m free. You’re free. Don’t be sorry.”

She looked again at Theroen, who had moved to kneel beside her, and opened her mouth to say something else. It never came. As she drew in breath, her chest hitched once. Twice. Settled. Melissa’s eyes grew wide and distant, distant and dark; like a glass reflecting eternity. Two made a low, sorrowful noise, closed her eyes, held Melissa’s hand. Theroen spoke, but his voice was distant. Distant and dark.

“Peace be with you, Melissa. If there is a God, and if he is just, he will bring you to a better place than this.”

Two felt herself rising, felt herself moving away, running away, as far away as she could go. She made it six feet before she tripped, stumbled, fell to the floor. Her hands clenched at the carpet, as if to tear it from the floor. Death, despair, love. The love made it worse, somehow. An eternity of love.

Two put her face in the soft loops of wool, sobbing.





* * *





It took nearly a minute of saying her name before Theroen was able to gain Two’s attention. She looked at him, blinking and unable to comprehend, then shook her head to clear it. Theroen watched as her eyes filled again with horror, with despair.

“Don’t.” A simple word, delivered in the same calm, strong manner in which he always spoke. Not a request, not a command. Almost a piece of advice, as in the car, the first night she had met him. Don’t.

Two clenched her fist, fought down the sorrow that wanted to engulf her, and looked again at her lover.

“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so, I’d say. This has not gone according to plan. Anyone’s plan. Unbeknownst to me, there were many of those.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your death at Missy’s hands was meant to be Abraham’s parting gift to his son. Just a little dark comedy. A way of thanking me for centuries of service, and a reminder of who truly holds the power, now and forever. It seems he underestimated your abilities.”

“Or my luck.”

“It doesn’t matter. You are alive and Missy is dead. It is regrettable that she took Melissa with her, but this was inevitable. Abraham will not be pleased with this. I think it best that we leave. Now.”

“Can I come?” The two vampires had forgotten Sam, who had thrown herself behind the couch when Melissa’s body had initially jerked back to life.

Theroen sighed. He looked at Melissa’s body, looked at Sam, looked at Two.

“You promised her, Theroen,” Two reminded him.

“I did, yes.”

“So let’s go.”

Theroen nodded. “Yes, Samantha, you may come.”

Two looked over at Melissa. “What about her? We can’t just leave her here.”

“Abraham will take care of her. No, don’t argue. I realize how preposterous it sounds, but you have to trust me. One of the few customs he seems to care about is giving dead vampires a proper funeral. He will conduct services, and then he will burn her, but he will do both with reverence. I do not know why he does this, but I have seen it more than once. It is the only thing in him that still seems human.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Everything is going to feel wrong for some times, I think. We must go, Two. You’ve done all you can for Melissa.”

Sam came to join them. “So what now?”

Theroen turned to Sam. “Where are your shoes?”

Sam raised her eyebrows. “How the hell would I know?”

“You’ll need something for your feet, and a coat. The closet in the hall is full of discarded clothing. Find something.”

Sam looked at Two, unsure. Two nodded. “Do what he says, Sam.”

She did. Theroen turned to Two. “Good. Let’s go.”

Two glanced once more at Melissa as they left the room. She wanted to apologize, to take it back somehow.

There was no time.





* * *





They found Sam at the closet, pulling on her shoes and jacket. Two had brought no possessions to the mansion, and had none to take. Theroen cared very little for any of it, and had no desire to bring anything with him. He held other apartments, in other places, had more than enough money in banks with which to begin their life. They left the mansion, packed full of art, trash, and everything in between, to Abraham.

The Ferrari wouldn’t fit three, nor would a motorcycle, of which there were four in the garage. A Jeep was parked behind two of the latter, and Theroen leapt on the first, moving it quickly out of the way and returning to move the second. He seemed agitated, an unusual state for him. Two thought it best not to question, but Theroen picked up on her curiosity.

“I am greatly concerned by what Abraham may do in the heat of the moment. He is undoubtedly aware of his daughter’s death, and I do not expect him to take it well. I hope he may allow us to escape, though I do not know if he will. If he decides to stop us, things will likely not go well.”

“I’d ask you to define that, but I think I already know.”

Theroen nodded, and let the second bike drop with a crash, not concerned with it. He moved back to the Jeep. Two reached over, hit the button for the garage door opener, and watched it rise. It was raining outside, dark and cold; December rain just barely too warm to freeze. The hunger raged in her, but now was not the time. She heard a howl.

“What about Tori?”

“No time, Two, and no choice. Abraham’s orders were to leave her. We’ve already killed his daughter and are stealing her fledgling. I’ll not risk angering him further.”

Two looked again out into the blackness beyond the garage door, understanding but not yet ready to accept. Behind her, she heard car doors opening. One closed.

“Two.” Theroen was standing at his door, waiting. The passenger side was empty in the front. Sam sat in the rear. Two bit her lip, fighting against her anger.

“Okay, Theroen. It’s not right. It’s not fair. It’s totally f*cked up, but I think we crossed the line between right and wrong somewhere around the time I stabbed my friend to death with a f*cking table leg, anyway.”

“That may well be true. We wait on you, my love. You must decide if you are ready to leave.”

Two clenched her teeth, turned, moved toward the Jeep.





* * *





They made it halfway down the driveway before Theroen was forced to jam on the brakes, bringing the Jeep to a sudden, skidding halt on the wet asphalt. Two, not wearing a seatbelt, caught her weight on her arms. Stronger now than she had been before, she barely felt the impact. Sam thudded against the back of Two’s seat with a squawking cry.

“Theroen! Jesus, what are you …” Two didn’t need to finish. The sweeping sense of dread that engulfed her, starting at the base of her spine and working its way up, told her everything she needed to know. Abraham. Outside. Two looked out through the windshield, and into the eyes of hell.

“Run him over!” It took Two a moment to recognize her own voice. It sounded like a scared little girl.

“He could pick up the car.” Theroen’s voice was flat, bereft of emotion, accepting, and Two understood in that moment what was to happen. This would be the end, likely, for all three of them. Frustration, hate and rage rose up inside her. It was going to end like this?

Theroen picked up on these thoughts, and turned to her. “I am out of ideas, Two. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought you into any of this.”

Before Two could respond to this, they heard the rear door unlatch. Two glanced back. Sam’s eyes were fixated on the figure standing before the car. Glazed, unseeing, Sam pushed with her arm, opened the door, stepped out of the car. Two felt the tug as well, a gentle push. Get out. Get out, and all will be well. It grew like the tide, surging over her thoughts, compelling her. Get out, and all will be well.

Two felt Theroen’s own mind drive suddenly into hers like a spike. It acted as a harsh slap, a mental shock so great that it left her reeling. Abraham’s grip on her thoughts was lost.

“All will not be well. I’m sorry, Two. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I could think of nothing else to do.”

“S’okay.” Two felt groggy, like she had just been pulled from a deep sleep. “What do we do, Theroen?”

“We get out. All will not be well. Be ready to run when I tell you.”

“Run where?”

Theroen shrugged. “Run in whatever direction Abraham is not.”

He exited the car and went to stand beside Sam in the rain. Two followed. Abraham towered in front of them, massive, grim and silent, his face a mask of fury. Two felt rooted to the ground, legs stiff and numb from fear. Run? She wondered if she could move.

“Father.” Theroen’s voice was quiet. Cautious. Abraham’s eyes moved to his son, seemed to bore into him. Theroen stood firm, staring back at the elder vampire.

“Leaving so soon, Theroen?” he asked. His voice was light, mocking, but behind it Two heard anger, and an ageless, depthless hate.

“I thought it best. I can only assume you wish to be rid of me, and of Two, as soon as possible.”

“Rid of you. Yes. Yes, my headstrong son, I wish to be rid of you. And so, you may go. You will leave me Samantha, and you will leave me Tori, and since I am now short a daughter, you will leave me Two. In doing this, you release yourself from my bond, forever.”

Theroen took a breath, set himself, looked off to the side and back at Abraham. “No, father. I will not.”

“Oh no? And tell me, boy … how would you have this encounter end? Shall I allow you and your lover to run off into the darkness? No, I think not. Shall I instead slaughter her, and this half-vampire cow, right where we stand? My child is dead, Theroen, because of your fledgling. Her life is forfeit.”

“Your daughter murdered herself, Abraham. There is nothing Two wanted less, but she did what she had to do. Two proved superior to Missy.”

“Did she?” Abraham’s voice was raw in its malice. “Did she indeed? What will she do now, Theroen? She is a quaking little girl, trembling at the darkness. See how she stares? She stands in the face of eternity, a candle before the blackness of the storm. What will she do?”

Theroen closed his eyes. “She will run, and when you try to pursue her, I will stop you.”

Abraham seemed taken aback by this. He paused for a brief moment, cocked his head, and then howled his horrible laughter. Two felt goose bumps ripple up and down her arms. Sam cried out, and took a step backwards, her trance dissolving. Abraham put his hand out, and she stilled, but looked at Two as if awaiting instructions.

“You are ready to die for these two, my son?”

“Two has my heart, and Samantha has my promise to my sister. I will sacrifice myself for them, if that is how it must be.”

“Ah, little, holy Theroen. Do you truly believe this act can make up for centuries of godless living? Centuries of death and evil? How much blood is on your hands?”

“That blood can never be washed away, Father. You know this. There is much I would atone for, given the chance, but the blood will always remain.”

“Perhaps I shall simply kill all three of you.”

Theroen shrugged. “It is within your power. I ask that as payment for three hundred and fifty years of loyalty, you let us live. Let us go, Abraham.”

“No.”

“Then I offer my life for theirs. That is the bargain … the request.”

Two wanted to protest, but could not find her voice. She wondered if it was Abraham or Theroen keeping her from speaking, suspected it was the latter, and began to weep in frustration.

“Your foolish notions of love and redemption disappoint me, Theroen. At every step, you have disappointed me. Did you learn nothing from Lisette?”

“I learned much from Lisette, father.”

“Not everything. No, Lisette brought one secret with her into the ground, Theroen. Sweet little Lisette, pure and honest. Wretched. Loathsome. Good. All these years and you’ve never found out. How marvelous.

“Oh, Theroen … How she did scream when I chained her to her funeral pyre.”





Theroen’s eyes blazed. His jaw clenched, hands wrapping into fists, muscles tensing. It seemed that at any moment he would spring at Abraham.

“Isaac—” he began, and Abraham cut him off with the wave of a hand.

“Isaac was a fool, and a puppet. It took me little effort to work him into a frothing rage over Lisette’s transgressions. He brought her to me, Theroen, so she would know. Before she died, I wanted her to truly understand the penalty for taking what was mine.”

Theroen was pale. Shaking. Barely in control of himself. He spoke through his teeth. “I have given you more than three centuries of service for a debt that I did not owe. You will let my child, and Melissa’s child, leave. Then you will prepare for death.”

And now Abraham grinned, his eyes greedy, burning with anticipation. “Oh, my. How exciting it all is! Yes, Theroen, she may leave. You will stay. This will be wonderful indeed.”

Theroen turned to Two. “Go.”

Two found she could speak again. “No, Theroen. I won’t.”

“You will. Take Samantha, and go, and do not look back.”

“You can’t—”

“Go!” he snarled. Two flinched backward, then looked at him again, frightened, confused, unsure. Theroen, with a visible effort, brought himself back in control. “Please, my love. Do not make me force you.”

His eyes held her for a moment longer, and then Two saw the anger swallow him again, and he turned back to Abraham. She took Sam’s hand, turned to her left, and ran, tugging the younger girl along.





* * *





They made it perhaps two hundred yards through the damp woods before Two was stopped by a low growling. She skidded in the mud, nearly falling, and came to a halt. Eyes glittered from the darkness before her.

“Whatthef*ckisthat?” Sam asked in a breathless rush.

“That’s Tori. She’s the other vampire. She knows me … but I think she knows what happened to her sister, too.”

Tori moved closer, into a patch of moonlight, and Two saw that her face was drawn and pinched in rage. She snarled, and charged them, howling. Two did the only thing she could think of. She held out her hands, still tacky with Melissa’s blood, and implored Tori to stop.

Tori seemed somewhat taken aback by this. She slid in the mud, came to a stop and rolled back on her haunches, considering Two.

“Tori, it’s Two. I know you remember me. I know you’re a lot smarter than you seem. I know you can smell Melissa’s blood. I know that you know she’s dead. Can you understand that I didn’t want it, Tori? That I’m sorry? I need you to understand.”

Tori took a few steps closer, and made that questioning sound Two had heard when they had first met: like a dog yawning. Two held her hand out. Tori sniffed it, growled again, looking up at Two with accusing eyes. Two knelt, and matched Tori’s gaze.

“I didn’t want to kill her, Tori. I didn’t. Now I have to run. You can stop me … kill me here if you want. That might not be such a bad thing. Or you can come with me. I don’t know how far we’ll get, but it’s me or Abraham now. You have to choose.”

Tori seemed to be struggling, perhaps attempting to process the words, perhaps only making her own decisions based on what she sensed. Two couldn’t tell. Finally, Tori moved out of Two’s way.

“Thank you, Tori. We have to go now. You can … God, I’m so sorry. Sam, come on!” Two took Sam’s hand again, and they began running once more down the path. After a moment, Tori caught up to them, overtook them, turned and met Two’s eyes, and then shot away on a diagonal, down a different path. Two relied on blind instinct, as she had so many times before, and followed Tori’s route.





* * *





Theroen stood facing his father, trying hard to keep the rage from flooding him completely and drowning his thoughts.

Abraham’s eyes glittered at him, mocking, as he spoke. “So. After almost four hundred years, things finally get interesting.”

Theroen’s voice was low. Strained. “You murdered her.”

“I did. I did indeed. She took what was mine.”

“I was never yours, Abraham.”

“No, not in your mind, but it matters not. Lisette learned her lesson, and I gained my fledgling back. As is always the case, Theroen, I won. And now we stand here, father and son. Soon you will attack me, and not just because I took one bride from you, but because now I threaten a second.”

“You cannot have her, Abraham.”

“I don’t want her. I never did. I thought she was a terrible choice for you, my son. Drugs? Prostitution? She is unclean, Theroen. However did you find her?”

“I saw her standing on a corner. I saw her working, Abraham, waiting to pick up some strange man and have sex with him, and the strength I sensed in her caught my attention. So much strength, from one in so low a place. Would you even have noticed?”

“Ah. Strength. Much like Lisette, is she not? Young Two does not like to be owned by anyone. As I said: a terrible choice for a fledgling.”

“I do not look for slaves, Abraham. I look for equals.”

“I grow tired of this nonsense, Theroen. It will lead nowhere. Your child, and the half-vampire, and now yet another of my daughters, are all making their escape as we speak.”

“Good.”

“We shall see how ‘good’ it is when she feels you die, Theroen.”

“That is how it is to be then? My life for theirs?”

“That is the bargain, Theroen. You know me, and you know that I honor my bargains … though I certainly stack the odds in my favor before making them. If she flees tonight and does not return, she will not suffer at my hands. This … this will be worth the price my daughter paid.”

“I will not make it easy on you, Abraham.”

“My son, you never have.”

They were quiet for a moment, father and son, bitter enemies. Theroen knew he faced death, but his love for Two, his rage over Lisette, left him numb. There was no fear. Abraham, sensing this, broke into a malicious grin.

A single thought came to Theroen in that moment. Whether from his mind, or Abraham’s, he could not say. Get it over with.

Theroen charged.





* * *





Abraham, alive long before the birth of Christ, had met many challenges in his day. Some were human, some vampires, all had sought only to bring about his destruction. None had achieved that goal, and few had even come close.

Now his son charged across the wet grass, roaring, eyes dark with hatred. Abraham’s amazing mind processed each instant like a still picture floating gently in time’s pool. He had ages to react. Eons. Theroen, powerful as he was, held no threat.

Abraham stood and waited for his son. He waited to free himself from the chains of his progeny. Melissa, dead. Theroen, dead. Tori would likely turn on Two as soon as Theroen’s death stole the whore’s vampirism away. Perhaps then Tori would become a rogue monster, at least until she was hunted down and destroyed by other vampires, an aberration too dangerous to let live. Abraham no longer cared. He stood at the dawn of a new millennium, and at the edge of the next phase of his life, a phase where he doled out the gifts of his vampirism slowly, to supplicants who would appreciate the power he delivered to them.

Abraham had time to smile as Theroen charged. Ah, it was going to be glorious.





* * *





Hitting Abraham was like hitting a wall of solid concrete. Theroen collided with his father, fingers hooked into claws, seeking to rend and tear. The force of the initial blow alone would have shattered mortal bones. Abraham took only a small step backward.

Hands like manacles around Theroen’s wrists, forcing his claws away from Abraham’s face. Theroen snarled, lunged forward anyway, oblivious to the pain as his shoulders dislocated, snapping his teeth at Abraham’s neck. He tried to bite, to drink. Perhaps if he could cut Abraham, he might weaken his father.

Abraham twisted, and pulled Theroen around by the arms. Theroen felt himself flying through the air, heaved to the ground. Abraham landed atop him. The creature was cackling, a horrific, mad sound, happy at last for action, after so many years of dark study.

Theroen screamed as he felt teeth tear through the flesh of his neck, opening his jugular vein in a warm gush. He struggled against the weight on top of him, to no avail, as the draining sensation began. Abraham was drinking. Laughing. Bathing in Theroen’s blood.

The world began to grey, and Theroen felt his strength flagging. No chance, now. He could not move Abraham. The pulse of his heart seemed to grow distant, like a receding tide. He saw faces. Lisette. Naomi. Melissa. Tori. Two. He fixated on this last, on the face of this woman that he loved. He wanted to focus. He wanted to see her eyes one last time. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for everything, and that he would meet her in some other place, at the end of the mortal life his demise was buying her. He would wait there for her. If only he could focus. If only he could see her eyes.

Theroen was still trying to make this happen when he died.





* * *





Two felt him go.

The sensation was like a sharp tugging that pulled at her whole body, and yet held no physical force. She stopped, bewildered for a moment, and then realization flooded in like a dark tide. Sam and Tori were looking at her in confusion, but Two could not see them, could not see anything except blackness before her eyes. She felt Theroen’s presence – so established within her that she had ceased even to notice it – dwindling, blinking out of existence. She felt her knees unhinge, and the gravel by the side of the road they had been following bit into her legs. She didn’t notice. Didn’t care.

Two tilted her head back and cried out denial to the uncaring stars. Wailing, weeping, she fell to her side, curled up like a baby, uncontrollable shuddering wracking her body. Theroen was gone, gone from her and gone from the world. Gone. Two wept, and screamed, and it was some time before Sam could do anything more than watch.

At last, Two’s grief subsided enough for her to hear Samantha’s voice calling her name, asking what was wrong. She fought against her tears, fought against the despair threatening to engulf her completely. Already she felt weaker, colder, more human, though she knew that she had not yet begun to revert to humanity. How long would it be before the various gifts Theroen had bestowed upon her withered away? A week? A month?

There was no time to contemplate this now. She had to get Samantha and Tori away from Abraham. The destroyer. The dark god. The most evil being that she would ever encounter.

Theroen’s life for hers, but had Two ever truly believed it would come to that? Now she knew it had indeed, and she knew as well that by staying so close to Abraham, she was putting them all in great danger. They had to get away. She stood up, brushing herself off and sniffling.

“What is it, Two?” Sam asked.

“It’s over. He’s gone.” Two’s voice was hollow. Dead.

“Abraham?”

Two laughed. The sound was without humor. She took a breath and shuddered. “No. Didn’t you listen? Abraham is indestructible. He’s a god. It would be s—stupid to even fight him.”

Sam looked at her, uncomprehending, and Two felt her grief turn to anger before she could stop it. “He’s dead, don’t you get it? Theroen’s dead, and you don’t even know what that means! You don’t even know what your life cost!”

Sam blanched, stepped back, frightened by this sudden mood swing. Two saw this, felt despair well up inside her again, and covered her eyes. She could find nothing there in the darkness, no sense of Theroen, nothing to comfort her. After a moment, she looked up again.

“I’m sorry, Sam. We have to go. Now. While we still can.”

“Are you going to be okay, Two?”

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. He’s gone. I owe it to Theroen to make sure you and Tori are safe. After that? Nothing matters. Let’s go.”

They began a hurried dash along the road, glancing frequently behind them, expecting that Abraham would show up at any moment to finish them all. Eventually they realized that he was not coming, that he would indeed honor his bargain with Theroen and let them go, and so they slowed to a walk, waiting for headlights, waiting for someone who would pull over. Someone Tori could make short work of. Someone with a car.





* * *