The Blood That Bonds

Chapter 6

Homecoming





Darren’s building. The hallway outside.





Two could hear muffled grunts, the occasional cooing of some girl, bedsprings creaking. It sounded like a bad porn movie, and she smiled despite the bitter taste in her mouth. She’d come here because she didn’t know where else to go. Dirty, tired, out of money, too ashamed and too frightened to go to Rhes and Sarah, she had returned to the building she had called home for the past year.

The trip hadn’t taken long. A car had eventually come along, the driver slowing for the two young women standing in the cold rain. Two had felt bad about rewarding this kindness with death, but she was still a vampire. Still needed to feed. Sam watched in horror, but Two could see the thirst in her eyes. By the end of the car ride Sam, grudging and sullen, had admitted that she was beginning to believe the whole vampire thing.

They had spent the day in a motel, sleeping. Two had packed Tori into the bathroom, blocking the cracks under the door with towels, giving the girl plenty of blankets with which to build some sort of nest. She and Sam had taken the beds. Two woke, weeping, at sunset. There was no Theroen to wake up next to, and never would be again.

By that evening, Sam was already looking more human. Two still felt the same. She fed on a victim in an adjacent room, and then the trio had continued toward Brooklyn, toward Darren.

Darren’s voice, through the door. “That’s good, baby. That’s real good, but you … gotta sound like you’re … getting the best f*ck of your life. Course, I know you are, right baby?”

“Anything you say, Darren.” The girl turned the volume up a notch. Two grimaced. She’d done this. She’d been here. It was a place she never intended to be again. She stood in the same building, but not in the same place. She had strength now, power now, purpose now. Descent and rebirth. Two had survived this process twice already. She would survive a third.

Two kicked the door, hard, just below the lock. The frame splintered and the entire mechanism fell to the floor with a clatter. The door swept inward on creaking hinges, ricocheted off the wall with a flat smacking sound, and came to a stop.

Darren was quick; Two had to give him that. The door had not even finished its swing before he was rolling off of the girl, yanking a drawer in the nightstand open and pulling a gun from within. In a moment more he was up on his feet, pointing the weapon toward the dark hallway. From his perspective, there were only vague grey shapes. Two’s eyes were much better. Before her stood Darren, naked and still half-aroused, gun cocked and held out in front of him.

“Who the f*ck are you and what do you want?” he snarled.

“Put down the gun, dumbass, before you get hurt.”

“Answer the f*cking question, bitch. Who is that? You one of my girls? Gonna get you some revenge, maybe put some holes in old Darren? Answer me or I start shooting.”

“Something like that. I’ll give you a few hints. She’s short, she’s cute and she’s been missing for a month or two.”

The gun wavered for a brief moment. Darren’s eyes registered vague surprise before growing icy again. “I didn’t authorize no vacation, Two.”

“I didn’t f*cking ask for one.”

Darren sneered at her, still unafraid. Two knew that look, and it was all she could do not to charge screaming into the room, to tear her former pimp limb from limb. It spoke of Darren’s complete disdain for his girls. It was a look that carried with it all the baggage of his beatings, his orders, his forcing addiction upon them. Two tried to think of Theroen. Tried to remain calm.

“Put the gun down. Now.” She said.

Darren actually smiled at this, and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Here’s how it’s going to go: You’re going to come in here, and I’m going to kick the living shit out of you. If you beg real nice, maybe I’ll stop before I kill you. If that’s how it goes, then you’ll get back to your room, and heal up, and get your ass out where it belongs, and maybe then I might give you a ration some time this f*cking century.”

Two laughed. After the blood, heroin had lost its appeal. “Last chance, Darren. Put down the gun.”

“No.”

Two shrugged, and released her grip on Tori’s shoulder. What happened next was better even than she could have expected. Tori sprang into the room, howling, so quick that she seemed a blur even to Two. Darren’s expression moved from confidence to terror in an instant. He got off one shot, wild, and the recoil from the gun caused him to drop it. Tori leapt, and Two was treated to the wholly satisfying view of Darren loosing his bladder on his own feet. He ducked at the last possible moment, and Tori sailed over him, into the bed.

Darren scrabbled away on all fours, making noises that sounded something like words, something like screams. There was a choking sound from the bed, and when Tori reappeared, she was drenched in crimson. She leapt down to the floor and advanced on Darren, growling low in her throat, the rumble of a jungle cat. Darren had backed himself into a corner, soiled, wet with piss and tears, and was making some sort of plea for his life.

Two called Tori’s name, and the vampire stopped, less than two feet from Darren. She raised her lip in a sneer that was oddly human, then turned, picked the gun up in her teeth, and brought it to Two.

“Don’t do that. Dogs do that. Use your hands.” Two’s voice was soft, her heart not really in the scolding. She was too busy watching Darren to ensure he didn’t move. She entered the room, Sam and Tori trailing behind, and stood by Darren’s desk, looking at him. He sat on the floor, glaring up, making the slow move from fear to smoldering humiliation.

“Stand up.”

“Bitch, I ain’t doing shit for you.”

Two’s expression was almost bored as she swung the gun upward and fired twice, putting a shot just to either side of Darren’s head. Behind her, Sam made a small shrieking noise. Darren’s eyes went wide, his face paper white.

“I don’t have to miss, Darren. Trust me on that, ‘kay? I’m in charge, now. Stand the f*ck up.”

Darren did what he was told.

“Put on some f*cking clothes. I’ve seen all of that that I plan on seeing, thank you.”

Darren struggled into a pair of jeans, very nearly catching himself in the zipper. Behind Two, Sam giggled. Darren shot her a look that made it perfectly clear that being laughed at by women was not something he was used to tolerating. Two waved the gun, drawing his attention.

“Don’t even look at her. She can laugh all day, if she wants. We need money, Darren. Now. As much as you have. You’re going to get it, and you’re going to get us some clothes, and then you’re going to leave.”

Darren’s eyes blazed. “I’m not taking orders from—”

Two cut him off. “Yeah? That right? Your friend GLOCK here says you will. Even if he didn’t, I think Tori’s next on the chain of command.”

Tori was sniffing around the bed. On hearing her name she glanced at Two, wandered over, sat on her haunches and licked blood from her arm, indifferent.

“Get us some clothes, Darren. Then come back.”

“The f*ck happened to you, Two?” Darren’s voice was plaintive. Confused.

“It’s a long story, and you’re not worth the time. You know sizes. You can guess what’ll fit us. If you feel like running, go right ahead. Tori could track you anywhere, even before you smelled like piss, and as you’ve seen, she’s a lot faster than you are. If you’re not back in five minutes, I’ll send her out.”

Darren opened his mouth to say something. Two cut him short with a gesture. “Next time I see your tongue, Darren, I blow it out of your f*cking mouth. Clothes. Now.”

Two motioned toward the door. After a moment, Darren went.

“That was amusing …” Sam was looking at the bed with distaste. A hand hung limp from under the covers. “Do you two do this often?”

“Me? No. Not when I can avoid it. Tori, maybe. I … Tori, get out of there.” Tori was inspecting the closet, sniffing at garments. Two didn’t know where Darren’s supply might be hidden. It was unlikely that it would be any place so unguarded, but the last thing she needed was an overdosing vampire.

Sam sat at Darren’s desk and lit a cigarette from the pack that was sitting there. She dragged, coughed, dragged again. “Three days without one of these. Thought I was going to go crazy.”

“Yeah, they get their claws into you.”

They were quiet for a minute. Sam smoked. Two watched. Tori sat at Two’s side, licking her arms like a cat.

“You want one?” Sam asked, stubbing hers out.

“No. Thanks. There’s a shower through that door. You want the first one? I’ll deal with Darren.”

“Okay.” Sam made her way to the bathroom. Two sat down at the desk, looking at her watch.





* * *





Darren made it back with just under twenty seconds to spare, and dumped the clothes unceremoniously on the desk in front of Two. He stood, waiting, anger like embers at the back of his eyes. Two had her feet up. Tori was curled up at her side, but she opened one eye and growled low when Darren entered. Two glanced at the clothes, nodded, and turned to look at him.

“So what happens now, Darren?”

“You tell me, slu—Two. You’re the one with the gun and the crazy bitch who thinks she’s a dog.”

“You don’t want to talk about her like that. I don’t think she’s very fond of you, and I know that I’m not.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

“Money, Darren. How much have you got here? Don’t lie to me.”

“Three, maybe four grand in the safe.”

“I want it. Then you can go … under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Get out of this business. You’re smart enough to make money some other way. I don’t give a shit what you do. Open a bar. Run drugs. Whatever. Just stay away from girls. You’ve f*cked up enough of them.”

Darren rolled his eyes. “Spare me. Doesn’t seem to have done you too badly …”

Two closed her eyes a moment, thinking of Theroen. “No? You don’t have a clue, Darren, and you’re walking into bad territory. I’m giving you a break here. If revenge was everything, I should have Tori tear your prick off with her teeth so I can feed it to you. It’s not, and I’m trying to be better than that. Don’t talk to me about how I’m doing. Just get me my money.”

Darren went to a safe at the wall, and if Two had been human, things might have ended some other way. As it was, she could see exactly what was in the safe, was well aware of the cold glint of metal in the shadows. Darren stood by the safe, appearing to count money.

He looked up at her, and there was a small smile on his face. “You sure I have to leave? I was damn good at this.”

Two rolled her eyes. “Yeah, exploiting twelve-year-olds and beating up women. You’re the greatest, Darren.”

Darren shrugged. “Got to keep you in line. We had a business relationship, Two. I gave you what you wanted, you paid for it.”

“F*ck you. I never wanted that. You forced it on me.”

“And you loved it. I know you stole shit from those other girls. You loved getting high. What’s so wrong with that? It’s good shit. What does it matter what you paid for it?”

“That’s not love. That’s need.”

“What’s the difference?” Darren shifted position. His eyelid twitched, and he glanced at her. Cagey. Two knew what was coming. She thought about his question. Love. Need. What was the difference? She loved Theroen. She needed the blood. She loved the blood. She needed Theroen.

“You can’t have love without need. You can have need without love. This is going nowhere, Darren. You’re done.” Two glanced down at Tori, who was looking up at her in anticipation. Tori could feel the tension growing. Two held out a hand, hidden from Darren’s view behind the desk, telling Tori to wait.

“Suppose I said I don’t want to leave?” Darren would have seemed calm to a normal person. To Two he was a bundle of nervous tics. Tiny involuntary muscle movements around his eyes, in the muscles of his right arm.

“I’d tell you that you don’t have much choice.”

“Baby, I have all the choice in the world.” Darren snarled and made his move, bringing his arm up, pointing the gun at Two. As he began his move, Two closed her hand into a fist. Tori leapt into motion.

Darren was quick, but Tori was supernatural, a creature beyond the bounds of human limitation. If the vampire girl had moved fast before, she was like lightning now, covering the distance between her and Darren so quickly that her passage made an audible rushing noise. The gun was knocked away, Tori’s teeth found his throat, her head made a ripping, rending motion, and Two’s former pimp’s life ended with a gurgle that was supposed to be a scream.





* * *





“I thought you said you didn’t do this often.” Sam was standing at the doorway to the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, staring at the slumped form that had once been Darren. Two was pulling it toward the closet, where she had already deposited the corpse of the girl in the bed. Two glanced over at Sam, shrugged. She finished her task, closed the closet doors, walked over to the desk, and lit a cigarette. The first drag made her cough. Made her head spin. The second went down more smoothly.

“And I thought you didn’t want any of those.” Sam said.

“If I can’t have anything to love, I’ll take something to need.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Here, Darren brought us some clothes.”

“Okay. Two?”

“Yeah.”

“What now?”

“Let me think about that. You don’t owe me anything, Sam. There’s money in the safe. Take it and run. Or stick around. I’d be happy to have someone to talk to, at least for tonight. I have to wait here for a while.”

“I’ll stay. Go take a shower. Am I safe with … her?” Tori was again curled up at the base of the desk, seeming to doze.

Two nodded, got up, and headed for the bathroom.

The shower was heaven. Good, hot water and lots of it. After two days on the road, and skipping a shower at the motel, she‘d felt terrible. Being clean helped. Being rid of Darren helped more. She didn’t regret it, not at all. One oppressor down. She wasn’t ready to think about the other.

Two showered, dried off, brushed her hair back into a ponytail and tied it wet. The girl in the mirror looked pale and tired, but more alive than the heroin addict who had stared back at her not two months ago. Theroen had done that for her. Now he was dead.

She put it out of her mind, and left the girl in the mirror behind.

“You going to try to get her in there?” Sam indicated toward Tori, who was now sprawled out on the bed, snoring in a most unladylike way, oblivious to the blood on the covers.

“Going to try. She stinks.”

Sam nodded again. She was counting money, pulled from the safe and spread across the desk. Two pulled off her towel. Sam held up a hand and looked away. “Whoah, hey, let’s keep the full frontal nudity to a minimum. Tori’s enough.”

Two laughed. “Sorry. I used to shower with other girls in this building all the time. You stop thinking about it.” She put on some clothes. Darren had managed a good guess at both her size and Sam’s. Two had never been a heavy girl to begin with, but now vampirism had shaped her form to its absolute peak. Clothes that would have fit the Two that Darren had known were now a little loose.

“Tori. Hey, Tori. Wake up, lazy. You want to take a bath? Or a shower?”

Tori rubbed sleep out of her eyes and looked up at Two, puzzled. Two indicated toward the bathroom with her hand, and Tori glanced toward it, not comprehending.

“Ah, f*ck, you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. This should be interesting. Come over here, Tori.”

Tori followed Two into the bathroom. After a moment, Sam entered as well. “Gotta see you try this.”

Two grinned. She turned on the water and motioned toward the bathtub. Tori looked nervous.

“Look, silly, it’s like rain except it’s warm, and there’s no mud. You’ll be fine.”

Tori was alternating between looking at the shower, and looking at Two. Her expression was skeptical. Two laughed.

“You’ll be fine Tori. Look, Sam and I both took showers, and we’re exactly the same.”

“Well, technically our hair is now ‘full of body and life,’ I think. According to the shampoo bottle, anyway.”

Two rolled her eyes. She moved toward the shower, ducked her head under the water for a moment, then returned to where Tori sat. “See? It’s fine, Tori.”

“Bathroom’s getting soaked, Two.” Sam tossed a towel on the ground.

“The superintendent’s dead. I don’t think he’s going to bill us. Come on, Tori. We haven’t got all night.”

Tori’s expression was uncertain, but she allowed herself to be lead toward the shower. After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped in and, feeling the warm water, gave them a brilliant smile. Two laughed.

Sam held up her hands. “Okay, I’m out of here. As much as Darren might’ve appreciated it, I’m not into watching you teach Tori the miracle of soap. I’ll be waiting.” She departed, returning to her counting. Two turned back to Tori and began attempting to instruct her.





* * *





Two left the bathroom laughing. Tori trailed behind her, appearing bewildered by the towel wrapped around her upper torso. Her hair was dry and brushed, and she looked like a completely different person.

“Wow, holy shit … she’s gorgeous with all of that dirt off,” was Sam’s appraisal.

“Yeah. You should’ve seen her preening with her hair in the mirror. You’d think she was getting ready for a date.”

“Well, good to get in the habit. I don’t think running around dirty and naked is going to work for very long in the city.”

“No, probably not. That reminds me … time for Tori to learn about clothing, I think.”

“Don’t you suppose they tried that already?” Sam asked.

Two pondered this, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure they ever gave her a fair chance. I think they saw her regress, or change, or whatever, into an animal … and they just let it happen. I think there’s more human left than they imagined. Or maybe she’s starting to change back. I have no real idea how this shit works.”

“I’d comment that we’re all human and I still think you’re crazy, but it gets harder to keep that up every time I think about the last twenty-four hours.”

Two nodded. “I think any ‘there’s no such thing as vampires’ argument sort of goes out the window after you meet Abraham. Hey, Tori, you want to put on some clothes?”

Tori looked at her, not understanding. She tugged at the towel, and it fell away. Tori reared back on her haunches and stretched, showing off well more than was proper.

“I could’ve done without that,” Sam commented.

“She doesn’t know any better. Come here, Tori. This is a shirt. See? Like the one I’m wearing. Put it on. No … no, the other way sweetheart. That’s backwards. That’s … Tori, here, let me help.”

Sam laughed. Two glanced sideways at her, questioning.

“You sound like my sister. She’s got two kids. Also, you’re never going to get her to understand the concept of a bra.”

Two smiled and rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t even bother.”





* * *





“It’s been over an hour since all that shooting, Two, and no one’s even bothered to investigate?” Sam had finished counting the money, and was reclining in Darren’s chair, feet on the desk, smoking another cigarette. Two was sitting on a maroon couch across the room, also smoking, taking a break from teaching Tori how to walk on two feet. The room was nearly dark, illuminated only by the diffuse glow creeping in from the city outside.

“Most of the girls are out right now. The rest are probably hoping he’s dead.”

“Nice guy, huh?”

“Oh, yes. A warm and friendly person. Darren was loved by all.” Two’s voice was dry.

Sam laughed. “Right. Okay, so … what’s next? There’s four grand and two bags of what I assume is either heroin or coke in the safe. I don’t know anything about that shit and don’t even want to touch it. Do I get a share of the money?”

“Yeah. Take half. I’d give you all of it, but I need some immediate funds.”

“Whatever. Two thousand bucks will make up for one lousy night. That’s not enough for you to flee to Mexico with, though. Are you staying here? I think New York might be hazardous to your health, Two.”

There was a thud. Tori had been attempting to cross the room on only her feet, and had lost her balance. She made a sound of frustration. Two smiled at her, said something encouraging, and turned back to Sam.

“New York is dangerous to everyone’s health. I don’t give a shit. And I don’t really know what’s next yet, Sam. Sorry. Right now I’m waiting for Molly to come in. I need to see her. If she’s still alive.”

“Molly?”

“She’s a friend. One of the few I have. After I talk with her, Christ … I should run. You should go home, and I should run. I should take off and go to California. Or Europe. Or f*cking Japan. Anywhere where Abraham’s not, but …”

Sam arched an eyebrow, spread her hands, waiting for Two to elaborate.

“But I don’t want to do any of that.” Two sighed, ran a hand through her hair, shook her head. Her jaw clenched. “I’m so f*cking tired of living my life afraid, Sam. He took everything I had. When Theroen … when it happened, when I felt him go, I almost gave up right there. How am I going to survive? How do I live knowing that Abraham’s out there somewhere? That he might show up any time? That the horrible, twisted, evil thing that murdered Theroen is still wandering free?”

“I don’t know, Two.”

“Me neither. And that’s not all. What have I got left here? I have no job. I have three friends, one of whom also now has no job and is still hooked on smack. The other two don’t really understand me and don’t know how to help me. In another week or two, tops, I’m not even going to be a vampire anymore.”

Two rolled her eyes and bit her lower lip, fighting back tears. Sam seemed to be trying to find the right words, but coming up empty. Two waved her hand, dismissive. “Don’t worry about it, Sam. I’ll be okay.”

“Look, Two, I’m just a poor Dominican girl from the Bronx, so maybe it’s not my place to say, but maybe you need to look on the bright side? You’re not on heroin. You’ve got friends. This might be a chance to start a new life.

Two said nothing, just stared, sullen, at the floor.

Sam toyed with another cigarette for a moment, then lit it. She looked concerned.

“What, Sam?”

“You want me to be honest?”

“Yes. I can handle that.”

Sam shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “I don’t know you very well, Two. We only met a day ago. But I like you, and I’m worried that you’re going to go and do something stupid, like kill yourself or something. I’m afraid to leave you alone.”

Two shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. At least, it hadn’t occurred to me yet. Not since right after Theroen died anyway. I wouldn’t do that to you or Tori.”

“Good. She needs you to take care of her. And I think you can count her as another friend, and me, so now you’re up to five. You could maybe forget Abraham, if you tried, and go back to a normal life. Would that be so bad?”

Two pondered this, trying to put her feelings into words. “No,” she said after some time. “No, it wouldn’t be so bad. Being human is a wonderful thing, in a lot of ways, and I guess I could probably get used to it again. It’s being without him that I’ll never get used to. I’ll never forget, Sam. I … there was love, a lot of it, even though we didn’t know each other for that long. But that’s not all of it. When Theroen turned me into a vampire, it connected us in a way that human beings just can’t understand.

“The way his mind worked, he was always there, always with me. I didn’t even really notice it, not until he was gone. I feel empty, Sam. Like a part of me died with him. That feeling’s not going to go away. I can tell you that right now. At best, it’s just going to fade a little.”

“So what are your options then, Two? Find another vampire? Make the change again? Maybe you could get Tori to do it.”

“Tori’s not strong enough. I’ve been thinking about it since we left the mansion, Sam. I’ve been trying not to, but I can’t help it, and I guess really I know what the next move is. That’s why I told you that you could go. You don’t need to be a part of this. I don’t want you to.”

Sam closed her eyes, rested her forehead in her palm, and sighed. When she spoke, she did not look at Two. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”

Two nodded, looking out the window. The rain on the glass distorted the red light of a neon sign across the street, made it ripple, reminding her of blood. After a moment, she answered Sam’s question.

“Yes. I’m going back. I’m going to kill that f*cker.”

Sam was quiet a moment, smoking her cigarette and staring up at the ceiling. The ghosts of car headlights from the street below made the room pulse as if breathing.

Finally, Sam spoke. “That’s crazy, Two. You said so yourself. You said he was a god.”

“The Romans killed God two thousand years ago. Or his son, anyway. Maybe I can do the same.”

Sam blew air through her pursed lips, unimpressed with this line of reasoning. “What are you going to do, Two? Shoot him?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I’ll bring a gun. And a knife. A big one.”

“Oh, good. A big knife.” Sam rolled her eyes. “What about garlic? A wooden stake? Maybe some holy water or a cross?”

“That’s all bullshit. Abraham’s just like anything else … if you destroy his brain, or his heart, it’ll kill him. The problem is that you need something like a nuclear bomb to do it.”

“Or a big knife.” The sarcasm in Sam’s voice was caustic.

“What do you want from me, Sam? I have to try. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.”

“Theroen would never forgive you for going back,” Sam said. Two drew in a shocked breath, and Sam looked up at her, saw the expression on Two’s face, and immediately put her hand to her forehead in regret. “I’m sorry, Two. Really. That was unfair.”

After a moment, Two shook her head. “No. It would only be unfair you were wrong. But I have to, Sam. I have to. Go home. Get away from this. Forget you ever met me, or Abraham, or any of us, and go back to your life.”

Sam considered this, and nodded. “Okay, Two. I’m sorry you have to do this, but I know damn well I can’t stop you, and I don’t know enough about this to try and talk you out of it. I’ll stop making you feel bad about it.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I have nowhere to be … might as well hang here. I’ll leave when you do. Or when we run out of cigarettes. Whichever comes first.”

Two nodded, and lit another.





* * *





Time passed, and girls began to show up. Two greeted each with a sardonic grin. Two had been one of Darren’s girls, and they all knew her. They asked where he was.

Darren was out, she told them. Would he be back soon? No … no, she didn’t think so. One by one, each girl got the point. Most left smiling. None had called the cops. Two might not have brought salvation – many of the girls would simply move on to new pimps and pushers – but at least she had brought them temporary freedom.

Molly was one of the last, and she came in bruised and bleeding, black eyes like raccoon markings, rail thin. The heroin was finally getting the better of her. Two could see it in her posture, in her eyes, and in the way it had eaten away at her body. Molly took one look at Two, and her shoulders slumped. She looked down at the ground and began to weep.

Two crossed the distance between them at a run and took Molly up in her arms, holding the girl, crying herself, murmuring words of comfort to her friend. Finally, through hitching breaths, Molly was able to speak.

“I thought you were dead!”

“No. Just gone. Are you okay, Molly?”

Molly sniffled and looked up at Two. “Yes. I mean … no. I mean …”

“You’ll live.”

Molly nodded. She embraced Two again for a moment, then stood back.

“You look different.”

Two smiled at this, wiping her eyes. “I guess I am. No more smack. No more Darren. At all. We took care of him.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “Is he—?”

“Dead? Yes.”

The expression that followed this piece of news had no business on the face of a twelve-year-old. It was a combination of satisfaction, glee, and hate. It hurt Two’s heart to see it there, but she understood. She understood very well.

“Good,” Molly said.

“Yes. Listen, sweetheart, how do you feel?”

Molly pondered this a moment, then sighed. “I dunno. I don’t even care anymore. I don’t care about the f*cking, or the beatings, or what the other girls say about me. I don’t care about scoring crack or meth. I don’t even like shooting up anymore, but I need it.”

Two frowned. “This isn’t supposed to be your life. We’re going to change that.”

“We are?”

“Yes. Here, hang on a second.” Two counted out several hundred dollars in cash and set it on the desk. “You’re going to take a cab to Smith Street, and get out at Sid’s bar on Pacific. You’re going to ask the man at the door if you can talk to Rhes. Chances are that the guy you’re asking will be Rhes, but it might be the other bouncer. If Rhes isn’t there, tell the bouncer Dan that Two said he needs to call Rhes right now. Can you remember this?”

Molly nodded, big eyes peering at Two, trying to keep track.

“Good. When you meet Rhes, you’re going to give him the note I’m about to write, and whatever cash you don’t spend on the cab. He’s going to take you in until I get back. Trust me, he’ll do it. ”

“Where are you going? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m going away for a bit. I have things I have to take care of.”

“Who are these people?”

“Friends. Don’t worry about me, kiddo. Get yourself into that cab, and go see Rhes.”

“Okay, Two.”

Two found paper in the desk, and scribbled out a quick note.





Rhes and Sarah,





This is Molly. She’s addicted to heroin and she needs your help. She’s a sweet, wonderful girl who deserves better, and I’m begging you to help her get through this. I’m sorry there’s no notice, but I know I can count on you. Please do this for me.





I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. There’s something dangerous I have to do. I can’t explain. It’s too f*cked up. Everything is f*cked up, but I want you to know that right now, at this moment, I am okay. Better than I ever was. Clean and sober and I have a reason to live, even though I don’t know if I will.





That’s why I need you to help her. Please. She’s just a kid, and I need her to live, even if I don’t. Don’t worry about hearing from Molly’s former employer. He’s dead.





If Molly needs someone to hate, let her hate me.





Thank you so much. I love you both.





- Two





The note was a gamble. If Molly read it, she would never make it to Sid’s bar. If she knew that Two was sending her to a life without heroin, she’d choose the street. Two folded the note in half once, then again, and taped it shut.

“Take this,” she said, handing it to the girl. “Don’t open it. Don’t read it. Just take it and give it to Rhes.”

Molly looked concerned. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. Rhes is a sweet guy, and his girlfriend Sarah’s wonderful. You’re going to live with them, for a while at least. They’ve got a big black dog named Jake. He’s a sweetheart. You’ll love him.”

“Where am I going to get a fix?”

It hurt to lie to Molly, but there was no choice. Two looked into the girl’s eyes and did her best. “Rhes will take care of that. He knows people. Do you trust me, Molly?”

“Yes, Two.”

“Good. Give me a hug and then get the hell out of here.”

Molly embraced her again, and Two hugged back. She hoped to make it through the dark days ahead, but knew it was unlikely. Molly was redemption. Even if Two failed and Abraham destroyed her, Molly at least was safe.

After a moment, they broke apart. Molly was crying again when she said goodbye, but she moved resolutely toward the door. At its edge, Two called to her.

“Hey, Molly?”

The girl turned around, cocked her head, raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Do you still pray every night?”

“I stopped. I didn’t think God was listening.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Maybe I’ll start again.”

“Do that. And pray for me, okay?”





* * *





Two lit a cigarette and leaned back, lost in thought. It hurt, seeing Molly, but in that bittersweet way—as much pleasure as pain. Sam spoke up.

“Seems like a nice kid.”

Two nodded.

“There’s no fix waiting for her with this guy Rhes, is there?”

“Of course not.”

“Think she’ll make it through?”

“God, I hope so.”

“You forgot to tell her why she should pray for you.”

Two gave Sam a bitter smile. “No. I didn’t forget.”

Sam stood up, stretched, walked over to the desk and looked Two in the eyes. “He’s going to kill you, Two. I’m sorry, but this is crazy.”

Two shook her head. “You can’t talk me out of it, Sam.”

“Too bad. I’m not going to stop trying. Will you bring Tori?”

“Yes.”

“Will she fight him?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if he kills her too?”

Two smacked her hand down on the table and looked up at Sam, eyes flaring. “Then he f*cking kills us both. Tori’s probably better off anyway. That was the decision. That was the plan. Kill Tori, Kill Melissa, drop you in the city and run like hell. Abraham just f*cked it up.”

Sam took a step back, holding up her hands. “Okay, Two. I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you.”

“No, we’re beyond that. This is the easiest thing in my life, Sam. I have no choice.”

Sam shrugged, clearly unconvinced. Two dragged at her cigarette, blew smoke into the dark room, tried not to think about Theroen. She didn’t want to think of him until the next evening, until she was working herself up to a fever pitch of fury and hatred, ready to kill or be killed.

“If I live through it, do you want me to find you?” she asked.

“Hell yes.”

“I don’t have an apartment. Give me your address and phone number. Maybe I’ll be in touch.”

“Sure.” Sam scribbled the information down. Two stuck it in her back pocket and went back to staring out the window.

“Thanks for staying, Sam.” She said finally. “I know you could’ve left a couple hours ago.”

“It’s okay. I spent the time thinking up excuses to explain to my friends where the hell I’ve been.”

Two laughed a bit at that. “I have no idea what I’ll tell mine, if I see them. I’m not sure I could even face them, after all the shit I’ve lied to them about since I met Darren.”

“I’m sure they’d forgive you.”

“Yeah. Can I forgive myself? Don’t know. Probably doesn’t matter. Like you said … he’s going to kill me.”

“Right, but … What happens if you win?”

“Honestly, Sam? I don’t think there’s much point in worrying about what will happen if I win.”

“Are there other vampires?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Will they come after you?”

Two smiled. “Get out of here, Sam. Go home. Stop thinking about it. You’re practically human. I can hear it in your voice. Another night, and this will all seem like some bizarre dream.”

“Yeah. Okay. Can’t say it was nice meeting you, Two – things were too f*cked up to call any of it ‘nice’ – but I’m glad I know you, if that means anything.”

“It means a lot.”

Sam looked around. “I’m glad to leave. I don’t know how you stood this place for so long.”

“It’s easier if you’re high all the time.”

Sam headed for the door. When she reached it, she turned. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Goodbye. Good luck.”

Two looked over at her, and smiled again. “Bye, Sam. Thanks.”

Sam waved, turned and disappeared through the door. Two sat, Tori dozing behind her, and watched as smoke curled up into the darkness, lost in thought, lost in her plans for revenge.





* * *





Midnight shopping was easier in New York than anywhere else in the world, and Two had little trouble finding the supplies she needed. She already had Darren’s gun and bullets to go with it, the extra clips found in a desk drawer. To these she added a machete, purchased at a hardware store, and even a few wooden stakes, although seeing them sitting in the car truly drove home how futile it all was. Wooden stakes? For Abraham?

Two drove from spot to spot, trying not to think about it, picking up things she thought she might need. Tori amused herself by playing with the various lit switches and dials inside the car. Eventually the incessant noise of the radio flipping from station to station faded into the background.

She and Tori fed on a homeless man under a bridge somewhere in Brooklyn, but Two found her thirst waning early. It was starting: she was becoming human again.

They left the city around four in the morning, heading toward Binghamton. There she found a motel. When the coming sun forced her into sleep, Two was glad for it. She was ready for the end.





* * *





The drive was miserable, the walk worse. They ditched the car a few miles from the mansion, and made their way toward the house in a downpour that wanted to be snow, couldn’t quite manage it, and settled for sleet instead. Two smoked, walked, saying nothing. The gun was jammed into the waistband of her pants. The machete hung in a sheath from her belt. She hadn’t even bothered to bring the stakes.

Two walked. Tori stumbled along behind her, insisting on walking but occasionally dropping to all fours to catch up.

The mansion emerged from the surrounding trees like a horror-movie haunted house. Huge, dark, lurking like a thing alive. It seemed as if the evil of its owner, held back perhaps by Theroen’s presence, had engulfed it. She found herself losing her resolve. Did she really want to be here? Surely this was madness. Hopeless. The fear pressed on her, taunting and shoving, trying to force her back to the car and away from the mansion. Two fought against it.

She thought of Theroen, forcing herself to contemplate the awful truth: he was gone, never coming back, and she would have to live without him. She thought of all of the things they had meant to do together, of the time they had planned to spend, and it seemed her heart would break.

The hurt brought anger. The anger brought hate, and Two looked up at the mansion with loathing in her eyes. Abraham was up there, somewhere. He wouldn’t know that she had returned. There might be some chance for surprise, some possibility of success.

“Coming for you, Abraham. Going to cut out your heart, eat it in front of you, and then set you on fire.”

Two snarled up at the mansion, and again moved forward.





* * *





The front entrance was lit. Too dangerous. Too obvious. Two knelt next to Tori, whispered in her ear.

“Tori, I know you can understand me if you try. Please try. Do you know if there’s a back door? A side entrance? Something?”

Tori looked back at her, confused but wanting to help.

“See that? That’s a door, but that one’s bad, Tori. Is there a different door? Somewhere else?”

Sudden understanding dawned in Tori’s eyes, and she began to squirm about, excited to have the answer. She pointed at the side of the mansion, pulling at Two’s hand.

“Okay, Tori. Good. Thank you.”

They crept along, skirting the edge of the forest on the mansion’s west end, keeping the shadows. The lawn was soft and wet, muddy in spots. Freezing water sprayed up with each footstep. The sleet kept falling from the sky, and Two and Tori both were both soon soaked and filthy. A normal human might have been succumbing to hypothermia, but Two was still mostly vampire, and barely felt the cold.

Two caught sight of an indentation in the wall to her right; a door, possibly a servant’s entrance. It was unlit and quiet. There was nothing between them and the entrance except wet grass and a few cultivated trees. Rotten crabapples littered the ground, slowly returning to the soil.

Tori lead. Two kept her eyes to the ground, afraid to look at the mansion. The sense of menace was palpable, like a wet cloth that wrapped them, stifling, suffocating. Two felt as if could barely breathe.

They were nearly there when Tori stopped short with a sudden yipping noise. Two looked up, and at once felt her limbs go weak. There before them was a shadow within the shadows, dark and looming, a presence so powerful it seemed to beat upon her like a physical force. Abraham. There. Waiting.

“Hello Two.”

Two could not find words, could barely look.

“You’ve come back to finish this, have you? And you’ve brought my daughter. How lovely. Tori, you have been a very bad girl. I thought we had trained you better than this.”

Sudden anger blazed in Two, and she found her voice. “Don’t you talk to her like she’s your f*cking dog, Abraham!”

Abraham turned his attention again to Two, focusing his gaze on her. She stood up to it as best she could, teeth clenched, holding on to her hatred as an anchor, remembering Theroen. It was the only way to keep from screaming under the onslaught of his gaze.

“I will talk to her, little girl, however I please.”

Calm turned suddenly to rage in his eyes, and Abraham bent forward, eyes blazing, snarling at Tori. She cried out first in fear, and then in pain. Abraham never touched her. Tori thrashed on the ground, wailing, left finally lying on her side, shuddering and weeping pink vampire tears. Two heard herself screaming at Abraham. Semi-words. Noises of rage and hate and terror. Abraham ignored her.

“Now, Tori. Go!” he roared, and sudden strength seemed to flow into Tori’s body. She leapt up and ran, reverting to all fours, pelting across the yard to the forest, yelping. Two felt tears on her cheeks, hot like branding irons against the cold and the slush. She was growling obscenities at Abraham, over and over, unable to stop. Abraham smiled at her, quiet, in control once again.

“You’re a fascinating young woman, Two, but too good. Too good. It is in many ways a shame to destroy you, but I think that were I to break you, I would destroy the same qualities that make you so intriguing.”

“F*ck you.”

“No, little girl, don’t you remember? I’m possessed of no such abilities.” Abraham chuckled. The sound was like turning earth. Like scraping stones.

“I’m here to kill you, Abraham.”

“I know. Oh, I know. You might even have succeeded in surprising me. I must admit that this is the last place I had expected you ever to return. The very last. Yes, you might have come upon me unawares, and at least had that small satisfaction before your death. Alas, Two, you have not. I have had some help.”

Two knew it before he spoke her name.

Abraham smiled. Moved aside. Gestured. “Is this not true, Sam?”

Two turned to meet the eyes of her betrayer.





* * *





“I’m sorry, Two.” Sam looked sick with fear and shame and regret. “I’m so sorry. Two, I’m sorry.”

“You f*cking bitch …”

“You don’t understand!” Sam was crying. “He came to me last night, after I left. He said if I didn’t tell him what you were going to do, that he’d kill you anyway, and he’d never finish me! I didn’t have a choice!”

Two was taken aback. “Never finish you?”

Sam took a step forward. “He’s a god, Two. We could be children of God. You know what it’s like. Never sick, never weak. How could I not want it?”

“Not like this, Sam. You don’t want what he’s offering.”

“I do! He gave me a taste of the blood last night. It was … oh, God. I want it. I need it!”

Abraham observed them, silent, smiling to himself. Two whirled, faced him, hatred now beating down the last of her fear.

“Tell her! Tell her the truth! Tell her what your blood does!”

“The truth, Two? The truth is that I have escaped the curse of my blood. I have discovered, through much experimentation, that my blood can be diluted. I can have now what I could never have before: a true fledgling, dedicated and attentive. I will dole out my blood in small amounts, and slowly Samantha will be transformed.”

“A slave, Abraham. That’s what she’ll always be to you. You’ll never finish her, and even if you do, you’ll keep her here forever.”

“Can you take the word of this prostitute, Samantha? This unclean whore who would throw away your chance at immortality for the sake of her dead lover?”

Two turned back to Sam, plaintive. “Sam, please …”

“I’m sorry, Two.” Sam took another step forward. A third. The distance was rapidly closing.

Abraham spoke again. “This end was inevitable, Two, from the moment you murdered my daughter.”

Two closed her eyes and felt despair welling. It ate at her courage once again. Accept this? Get it over with? Lie down and die?

Inside her something grew. A spark became a flicker, a flicker a blaze. Death meant reunion with Theroen, so what reason was there to fear it? If she must die, so be it. She would do so on her own terms, though, not like this.

Sam was nearly within grabbing distance. Two looked up at her, met her eyes, and shook her head.

“I’m so sorry, Sam.”

Action as instinct. Two moved so quickly that Sam had no chance of stopping her. Abraham could have, if he’d wanted to, but Abraham simply stood where he was, his black grin never wavering. In one swift move, she drew Darren’s gun from the waistband of her pants, leveled it at the girl in front of her, and fired. Once. Twice. A third shot went wild, but it didn’t matter. The first bullet hit Sam in the neck. The second entered at her forehead and removed the top half of Sam’s skull, spraying it backward in a gout of bone and brain. Sam’s eyes looked confused for a moment, then went blank and lifeless. She exhaled in a long, rattling sigh, and dropped to the ground.

Two was already spinning, pointing the gun at Abraham, and now he moved. She felt it yanked from her grip before she could squeeze off a shot. A hand she couldn’t see collided with her midsection and sent her hurtling backwards, rain-softened ground rising up to meet her. On pavement, the landing would have shattered bone. Two lay in the grass, writhing in pain. Abraham towered over her.

“You’re very good at making things difficult, Two.”

Two wheezed, finding her breath. “F*ckin’ A.”

“Can you run?”

“Break as many of my f*cking ribs as you want, bastard. I can run.”

“Then I think you had better do so. Who knows? The forest is quite dark. Perhaps I shall lose you.”

Two looked up at the smiling figure of death above her, laughing to itself at this little piece of nonsense. Abraham wanted a chase, that was all; a little action after so many years without. Two knew it, and knew that her last chance was rapidly expiring. She reached into the interior pocket of her leather jacket, and brought out the only hope she had left.

White powder, some of it clumped with moisture, some still dry. Heroin. Sam had found it in Darren’s safe, and Two had brought it with her. She had no interest in it now, not for herself, not for Molly, not for Tori.

But maybe for Abraham.

Two hurled the drug at his face, heard him inhale in surprise, pulled herself to her feet, and ran for the forest.





* * *





That drug, Theroen, more than any other, is poison to our kind.

Abraham’s words, echoing in her brain as Two had stared into the safe, at the bags of heroin Darren kept therein. This was not the street grade junk he gave to his girls, nor even the private supply of cleaner product he kept for special occasions. This was uncut, raw, too powerful yet for use. Now it coated Abraham’s lungs, his nasal passages, the ducts of his eyes.

Two could hear him screaming.

Pain, rage, hate; Two heard the depths of her own soul reflected back at her in Abraham’s voice, and grinned with malice as she ran. She did not know if the heroin would kill him, or only slow him down and give her a few moments more to live before her tore her limb from limb. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore, except the deep, black well of joy within her. She had done damage to a god. She had hurt the thing that could not be hurt. Two laughed as she ran, a maniacal cackle of glee and hatred.

She slipped, slid, fell down a short, rocky embankment, cuts on her arms and face, still laughing. Hysterical, now, and barely able to run. Something seemed to stab her in the side with every gasp. Two didn’t care. Her laughter came in gasps and shrieks. Behind her, she could hear Abraham crashing through the bushes. Roaring. Snarling. Two screamed obscenities back at him, egging him on, daring him to kill her, laughing at his rage.

The path led to a sheer rock wall, the tangled underbrush on either side too thick to climb through. Two skidded to a halt under the limbs of a tall oak, and looked around in desperation. She was trapped. Behind her, she felt Abraham’s presence growing. There was no chance that way, and no other alternative. Death had come for her. Two turned, put her back to the rock, and faced that death grinning.

Abraham staggered into the clearing and came to a stop ten feet in front of her, his face twisted with hate. He coughed, rubbed an arm across his eyes, wobbled slightly, and Two knew she had hurt him badly.

“You like it, f*cker?” she screamed at the figure. “How does it feel? You flying high yet?”

“I’m going to cut the skin from your body in strips. I’m going to hang you upside-down. Keep the … blood at your head. Keep you alive.” Abraham’s voice gurgled. He turned to one side and dry heaved, broke into a fit of coughing. There was blood on his face, and Two realized the heroin was eating away the soft tissue of his mouth and lungs. Abraham swung back toward her, and his eyes spoke now only of death.

Two beckoned to him. “Don’t tease me, sweetheart. Do it. Do it!”

Abraham lurched forward, moving at a fraction of his former speed, unsteady in his step. Two unhooked her machete and prepared for death.

Something dropped from the tree above, hit Abraham with full force, and knocked him from his feet. Snarling, screaming, writhing limbs. Tori. Two howled in triumph, racing forward, raving, cackling.

“Tori! What are you doing?!” Abraham’s voice was weak. Confused. Its power was lost, and this more than anything filled Two with hope. Tori was at her peak, energized by rage and hatred, and the desire to protect her friend. Now was the time, yet Two could not get a clear shot with the machete without hurting the girl.

“Tori, move! You have to move!”

Too late. Abraham shoved forward, and threw Tori from him. The vampire girl collided with Two, knocked her backward, knocked the machete from her hand. Abraham advanced now, still fast, despite the heroin. Tori got in his way, was knocked aside, and landed hard. Two could hear the crack of her head on rock from six feet away, like ice snapping on a lake in midwinter. Two fell to her knees, scrabbling at the ground.

Reaching, searching, her eyes never leaving Abraham’s advancing form. She felt the machete’s handle, clasped it, and brought it up in a last, desperate arc. She swung the heavy blade with all of her strength, screaming prayers in a nonsense language to an indistinct God. Prayers for speed. Prayers for strength. Prayers that it was not too late.

The blade caught Abraham just below the chin, carving into the skin of his neck. For Two, it was like chopping at stone. She felt pain lance through her arm as muscles separated, tore, gave out, but did not draw back, did not stop her swing. Abraham’s head separated from his body, flew up and backward into the air, hit the ground rolling, and came to a stop by Tori’s inert form.

Two rolled away from the headless trunk, which stood for a moment as if welded to the ground. Great black jets sprayed forth from the ragged stump of neck, and the hands clutched at its sides as if searching still to tear Two apart. Then at last like Goliath it fell, borne down by its own weight, and lay still upon the ground. Abraham, the dark god, elder vampire of the New World, lay dead.





* * *





Blackness overtook Two, and she lay on her back for some time, covered in filth and blood, heedless of the slush soaking into her clothes. Gasping, sobbing, calling out to Theroen, Two lay on the cold ground until she at last realized that Theroen wasn’t coming, and dragged herself to a sitting position.

Tori.

She made her way to Tori’s body and bent down, fearing the worst. To her relief, Tori’s body was already healing, the flow of blood from the wound on the forehead slowing. She was breathing in deep, slow, steady breaths. Two shook her gently, and Tori opened her eyes. She sat up, groggy, and looked at Two, then at the head on the ground, and broke into tears. Two held her tightly, kissing her face, her hair, unable to believe they had both survived it.

“Oh, Tori. Oh, sweetheart. We did it. He’s dead. Tori, he’s dead!”

They took the head back with them to the house. Two wanted it nowhere near the body. She knew that vampires possessed formidable powers of regeneration, and if someone had told her that Abraham’s head could somehow reattach itself to his body, she would not have doubted them.

They emerged from the forest together, staggering, leaning on each other for strength and making their way slowly toward the mansion, toward warmth. Two’s head was throbbing, though she couldn’t remember hitting it on anything. Her right arm felt as if on fire, every muscle torn and pulled. Tori shuffled along, leaning against her, still dizzy and sick from the blow to the head. Neither woman was capable of mustering more strength than was necessary to keep their limbs moving.

The side door was locked, and so they made their way toward the front. Two didn’t know what she would do if that door wouldn’t open. Break a window, perhaps. It didn’t matter. They needed to get inside. The mansion was hope where no hope had been. It was warmth. Survival. Two wondered if she was crying. Her face was too numb from cold to tell.

The front door opened with ease, swinging wide, opening on the rooms in which she had spent the past two months. Two made a choked, sobbing noise of gratitude and stumbled inside, slamming the door behind her. She eased Tori down onto the plush oriental carpet, and staggered to the entrance to the basement. She threw Abraham’s head down the stairs, then bolted the heavy oak door at their top.

The pain in her head and arm were making her dizzy. Two stumbled forward into the first room she could see. The media room. Melissa’s blood still stained the carpet, and Two looked away. She struggled to one of the couches, fell down upon it, and let black unconsciousness take her.





* * *





She woke in the early morning, the sunlight still painful on her skin, and moved to a couch that lay in the shadows. Here she slept the rest of the day, and into the next evening. When at last she came out of her slumber, she found Tori curled up next to her. Her head still ached, but only slightly. Her arm was better, though still painful to move. Two felt very human indeed, and wondered if her regression to that form had been hastened as she had healed.

She sat up, looking around, trying to determine what hour of the day it was. The media room’s windows were dark. Two could see smears of dirt in the hallway, and realized that during the day, Tori had dragged herself into the front closet.

“Smart girl,” Two said. She turned on one of the televisions. Sights and sounds flashed by, news reports on things she didn’t care about. She flipped channels and found a cable access station broadcasting the time and date.

Near midnight, mid-December. It would be Christmas soon, the television informed her. Had she done her shopping? To Two it felt like she had lived ten years in the course of the past two months. She turned off the TV and stood on shaky legs. She was starving, but not for blood. What she really wanted was a cheeseburger. This realization made her laugh, even as tears sprung to her eyes.

Two made her way upstairs into the room she had shared with Theroen. Her clothes were still there, in closet and dressers. Bathroom supplies, books of poetry, it was as if she had never left. Two thought of Theroen, lying next to her on the bed, and the ache in her heart leapt to the forefront.

“I could kill you a thousand times, Abraham, and we’d never be even. You took everything I had.”

Two went to take a shower.





* * *





They lived at the mansion for six weeks, and in that time Tori began to show definite signs of returning to humanity. Christmas came and went, the New Year began. Two and Tori healed. As her mind changed, Tori began to behave in new ways. She mimicked sounds, and was beginning to understand simple questions that Two asked.

She was still strong. Still fast. Two wondered if the changes that vampirism had made to the girl’s physiology would every truly leave. She wondered if Tori would ever fully regain her mind. She didn’t know.

There were only two moments of unpleasantness left for Two during her stay at the mansion. The first occurred early: the burning of Abraham’s remains. Two had taken care of the head first, out in the yard, dousing it with gasoline and covering it with kindling. She’d taken the machete to the skull, blackened and cracked by the flames, and scattered the pieces around the grounds. She’d repeated the process with the body. If Abraham could somehow heal himself, it was beyond her power to do anything more to stop it.

The second occurrence came a week later. Exploring the mansion, she had come upon a staircase, behind a set of iron doors at the back of Abraham’s study. The stairs led to depths deeper even than the basement in which she had found herself, that first night after meeting Theroen. Two had ventured down into the dark and foreboding space with trepidation, holding nothing more than a single flashlight.

The sight upon reaching the bottom had forced a cry of despair from her lips. There, on a stone bier, lay her lover. Theroen, pale and broken, was spread out on the slab. His body had been cleaned and dressed in a dark suit. It appeared as if Abraham had been preparing to perform some sort of ceremony. Two had run across the room, bit into her left wrist hard enough to bring blood, barely aware of the pain, and held it above Theroen’s open mouth.

Nothing.

Crying, begging, Two held her neck against his lips. They were cold and dead. Theroen did not move, did not change, and Two wrapped her arms about the corpse and wept.

She knew that she could not bring herself to burn Theroen, and so left him there, climbing the stairs and closing the doors, piling objects in front of them. Stone statues, marble tables, anything heavy. Tori helped her move them.

Two hoped Theroen had found peace. She hoped he was somewhere with Lisette, loving her, telling her stories of Two and what fun they would have whenever Two finally joined them. She wondered if she had the strength to go on without him, and could not find an answer.

She wondered if some night she might awaken to find a vampire hovering above her, eyes like fire, bringing retribution for Abraham’s death.

She wondered if any of it even mattered.





* * *