 
Time

Through Human Eyes

A Vampire Novella

By Betty Mitreska

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Betty Mitreska

Smashwords Edition, license Notes

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For Shinto Jengedor

Daylight comes and daylight goes,

Only the night can release me.

I scream for him, but he doesn't come,

He doesn't hear me.
Chapter 1

**This simple moment** could be one of the happiest of my life. I'm standing out front of a deserted convenience store, picking through post cards I don't plan on buying, and he's standing across from me, looking through post cards that I know he hasn't thought about buying, smiling.

Another warm and sunny December day casually passes by. It's always nice, the feeling of being a million miles away from home, not thinking on any of the everyday things you think about in your everyday life. There is no cooking, no washing or cleaning, no mail to collect, no alarms to set and best of all no job to attend, no responsibilities of any kind.

I met James just over a year ago, in a city a few thousand miles from here, in an altogether different country. He joined the company I was working for, and there seemed to be an instant interest between us. Within weeks, we had started secretly dating. In less than six months, we were out in the open and engaged.

For someone else it might seem hurried, for us, it was perfect timing.

As I look at him I realise, he could quite possibly be the most handsome man I have met. He styles his short, dark blonde hair combed neatly back away from his face, his eyes are the colour of the clear blue sky, and he stands just shy of six feet tall, a couple of inches taller than I do. He wears a suit most days due to his work, but I like it best when he dresses down, as he has today, in dark blue jeans and light blue t-shirt.

I could literally spend hours looking at him, and having married exactly seventy-eight hours ago, I am certain he's feeling the same.

We married on a cool summer's day, amongst draping flowering trees, followed by a marquee reception within the same landscaped gardens. Decorated the marquee was with a variety of flowers, all in an array of different colours, and crystal led lighting chandeliers throughout. It was a small affair with our closest friends and family being invited, having decided to keep the wedding small for two reasons. One, we honestly only wanted to have the ones we cared for most share in this special day, and two, by keeping the wedding small there would be more money to spend on the most important thing, the honeymoon.

Now here we are, in sunny Florida, and the room service is definitely great. We are staying in an exclusive small hotel, with direct access to the hotel's own private beach; it's where we've happily spent most of our time.

"Come on," James says taking my hand and we walk. The air is warm, it feels as if a blanket is brushing up against my skin, and the chatter of strangers talking sounds musical, mixing in with the different songs playing from one store to the other.

As we walk to nowhere, I snuggle into him that bit closer.

"I love you," he whispers into my hair. I think of all the ways I love him back, but I don't reply. He looks down at his watch. I feel him instantly tense. "We're going to be late," he says at an incredible speed.

"Late for what?" He doesn't answer instead pulls me to run with him. I should have known he was planning something when he asked me to wear his favourite dress. Regardless, I put on the cherry print dress, and matched it with my new, beige, wooden wedge heels, coincidently a bad choice for running.

"Late for what?" I yell, as we hurry down a quiet street, with banana trees overgrowing in residential front yards. At its end, the street meets with the warm coastal waters, of the Gulf of Mexico.

"I've made a reservation for a dinner cruise. They have the best seafood in town. We're not missing it, so run," and so we keep running.

As we near the pier, we see a large boat with multi coloured light bulbs hung across its railings, and three tall masts. It's a beautiful black and gold historical tall ship. The kind you can picture men slaving on a hundred years ago. Along the side of the boat, in large, fancy, white script, reads its name, 'New Beginnings.'

Crewmembers are busy packing the detachable bridge from the pier, pulling at ropes leading to the boat. We run faster, passing a flustered, elderly couple on the way that appear to be racing at snail speed, trying to reach the same boat. James sprints ahead reaching the crew first. He waves his hands in my direction, trying to convince them to wait. "Just a few more minutes," he finishes saying, as I reach his side.

One of the crewmembers agrees to let us on board, so then we make them wait for the elderly couple. Guided by various workers we pass along the way, we dash up a short flight of stairs. The stairs lead to a finely decorated, wooden-trimmed dining area. It stretches all the way out to the back of the boat.

An attractive blonde woman, dressed in the crew's uniform of red shirts, navy pants, and matching silk floral scarfs, greets us. She collects a couple of menus and then shows us to our table by one of the windows. Placing our drinks order before we have seated, we tell her to bring us cocktails, leaving it to her to decide which type. We set ourselves a challenge at the beginning of our holiday that we would try every available cocktail.

Slumping into our booth seats, we smile at each other in triumph, as the boat begins to coast across the calm turquoise water. James explains how he had planned this dinner for the last two days. He talks about how the boat is renowned for its amazing food. It is one of the rare places you can get a piece of truly authentic Key lime pie. Not the greenie custard variety sometimes sold over the counter. Booked out for weeks in advance, he was able to convince the receptionist to prioritise our booking in the event of a cancellation. By a stroke of luck or sheer persistence, here we are.

"It's a beautiful boat," I tell him.

"You're beautiful," he replies in an instant. Leaving me lost for words, I laugh, as the waitress sets down a couple of obscure named, orange coloured cocktails.

Nothing quite compares to a Key West sunset.

We sip the fruity drinks watching out the small window as the sun begins to set across the ocean in a glorious golden-red glow, another day brilliantly welcoming its night. A subtle warm breeze flows through the boat, making the various coloured light bulbs tinker against the railings.

"There is nowhere I would rather be," James says. I return his comment with a smile. "Seriously, I love you so much."

He waits a moment, waiting to hear those words, the ones he has been trying to get out of me for the past two hours. Losing patience, he begins to try to tickle the words out of me, but I refuse. I refuse to say, 'I love you.'

I know that if I don't say those three words he will continue to say them over and over again, and I want to hear him say them, over and over and over again.

I change the subject to the Caribbean delights on the menu. It works well in distracting him. When the waitress returns for the second time, having given us adequate time to review the menu and collaborate orders, we ask for fish soup entrees, curried coconut lobster mains, a side of fresh oysters, plus another two cocktails of a different variety, completely forgetting the pies.

"Say it," he says, but I won't. "Why?"

The frustration starting to show on his face through the wrinkles between is eyes.

"Because I want you to keep saying it," I tell him, and he laughs. He laughs loud enough that the couple at the table next to us turn and stare. I smile at the large, round man and his skinny, sunburnt date, but they return my smile with looks that remind me of the way my parents looked at me, when I misbehaved as a child. Fighting back the urge to stick my tongue out at them, I instead look over the rest of the room.

Every table is set with decorative China, and silverware on royal blue tablecloths, each chair with its matching royal blue ribbon tie. The majority of diners are couples, probably newlyweds too. The Florida Keys appears to be a popular honeymoon destination. There are a few families with young children, and scattered small groups.

At the opposite far side windows, is the elderly couple we helped get on the boat.

"Look, there's that couple who were running late," I point in their direction, before whispering to James, "How cute, they're holding hands." The couple shares the same shade of silvery hair. It reflects a golden colour in the glow of the slow-moving sunset. Holding each other's frail, wrinkled hands, they talk, oblivious to everyone else in the room. The look in their eyes is one of nothing less, than blissful content. "Will you hold my hand when I'm that old?"

"That's the plan." Without missing a beat, he always finds the words, to make me feel secure and safe.

The air starts to fill with the smells of traditional island cooking, as various diners begin to receive their meals. My stomach grumbles in anticipation, while a flurry of birds of indigenous breeds race across the sky, trying to make it home before dark. The sun completes its graceful farewell, and the night slowly begins to move, inviting colourful district lights to illuminate the coast.

When our meals arrive, we feast on perfectly seasoned soups, followed by the freshest lobsters on earth. We both agree we should order more oysters. The good reviews about the food on this boat have proven true. We find that by the time, we've finished eating our meals, we're already on our fourth cocktail each, and the thick, warm night air begins to engulf us.

Cuban music plays through large black and chrome speakers, sending the sound bouncing across the darkened waters. The rhythm attests enticing to various patrons, who start to move to the small open-air dance floor. I move to James' side of the booth, the closer to him the better. He welcomes me into his arms, as he orders two more cocktails. There are three more drinks on the menu we haven't yet tried.

"Should I go blonde?" I ask, not out of insecurity, but that I actually consider it as I watch the waitress return to the bar for our drinks, her long, wavy, blonde hair in a trailing ponytail behind her.

"Alice, you know I love your brown hair, and I love your sexy new haircut." He pulls me closer with one arm, runs his free hand through my newly layered hair. I'm still getting used to the new length. It reaches mid-way down my back, short considering I've always had long, waist length hair. Now it falls into a V-shape at the back, with a short fringe that sits above my eyebrows, and flicked to one side.

I move my legs over his lap, my arms around his neck, just to be closer still.

"And I love your chocolate brown eyes," he adds as he kisses my lips. Then as his eyes look over my body he continues, "And I love your –"

"Okay, I get it." I kiss him, only harder this time.

We talk between kisses, planning things we will do over the next few days. Things such as snorkelling and hiring a sea kayak to further explore these beautiful waters. We get excited again, about the four-night cruise, we are taking through the Bahamas, then continue going over plans for the next few weeks. Plans of staying with friends we haven't seen in ages who now live in England, the same two friends who convinced us to move there for the next eighteen months.

After the honeymoon, we will be having our first white Christmas.

As excited as we are about the move, it was a difficult decision. We both love our island home of Australia. We've left everyone we care for, jobs we actually liked, and then there was the hassle of moving our belongings into storage. In the end, we couldn't resist the opportunity to live abroad for a while. Besides, we'll be back home soon enough and better off for it, considering the wages are higher in London.

Before getting started on our fifth fruity cocktails that arrive right-on queue with our second serving of oysters, we decide to go for a dance. Making our way, we manoeuvre around dining tables, as stars float above us, through small, rounded windows. Reaching the dance floor, we stay for a while, occasionally bumping into other dancers, but doing a good interpretation of salsa dancing in my opinion.

The dance floor extends to the exterior of the boat, where the multi-coloured light bulbs hang from the railings. We start to tire, so we head to the railings for a rest. Sprinkles of water fill the fresh, sea air having bounced off the waves.

"New Beginnings," I mumble as I lean over the side of the boat, considering the significance of the words, with all the new beginnings for us – a new home, in a new country, and with this move, new jobs, and new friends. Playing with the antique, diamond ring James gave me for our engagement, I roll it around my finger. It sits below my new wedding band. They sparkle against the light coming from the moon.

These rings usher a new name for me. We are now, Mr and Mrs Whyte.

"New Beginnings," James mumbles back. He stands behind me, running his fingers through my hair. He then wraps his arms around my waist, leans over me, so that he too can look over the side, at the lightly illuminated water below. The breeze created by the moving boat cools our skin. He smiles, then breaks our peaceful silence, "Let's go inside, we have oysters to finish remember."

He leads me through the dim dance floor, breaking into a dance here and there. We once again manoeuvre past dining tables, until we are back at our own private booth. We start on our drinks straightaway, pineapple ones this time. We eat the oysters at super speed, until there is one oyster left on the plate. Finishing our drinks, we order a pair of creamy cocktails, leaving only two still to taste.

The waitress returns with our drinks. I check with her how much longer we have left on the cruise. She tells me we have about an hour before docking, plenty of time for two more drinks, but I have to admit to feeling somewhat tipsy already.

All the sounds around us seem to have become progressively louder, from the conversations and laughter to the music streaming from the speakers. Even the sound of plates and cutlery clattering in the nearby kitchen seem all the more chaotic. There are a number of drunken dancers, strutting their stuff on the dance floor, and there are tired children, sitting on tired parent's laps. The grumpy couple seated next to our table, share the last remnants of a cheesy marinated tuna steak.

We start to debate which one of us should get the last oyster, when the large, round man begins choking on the piece of tuna steak he was chewing. With an unexpected heave, he violently spits out the tuna piece. It goes flying out of his mouth, and tumbles down our table, landing smack bang in the middle of the last oyster on our plate. We break out in laughter, but the screams from the skinny, sunburnt woman seated next to him, tame our amusement.

The large man is bleeding from the mouth. As crewmembers rush to his aid, he stands up, and they stop short, having realised there is nothing they can do. There is a gaping hole in his chest, where his heart should be. Face first he falls on the dining table. Behind him, stands a peculiar man, holding his heart in one hand.

Other than the screaming woman and the music still playing through the speakers, there is no other sound in the room. Even the most intoxicated dancers on the dance floor are still. No one seems capable of moving, including James and myself.

"Get down on the floor, get on the floor now," one of the crewmembers yells at the man holding the heart, who has been scanning the room, his long, white-blonde hair, serenely floating behind him. Anxious workers move to surround him. He continues to stand, almost smiling. He watches the crewmembers scattering around him.

I turn to James trying to gain some perspective. In a blur of movement, an enormous scuffle breaks out on the dance floor. Screams begin bellowing from every direction, as further fights start, including one between the white-blonde haired man, and several now terrified crewmembers.

"Get under the table." I think it is James yelling. I have lost my focus. The room starts to spin in my head. "Alice, get under the table," James shouts, grabbing a hold of my arm. I crawl to ground. We huddle holding onto each other.

"Did you see what he's wearing? Who dresses like that?" I say, trying to make sense of things. He is wearing obviously old Victorian styled clothing. James tries to calm me, but I can't stop myself from rambling. "It's his skin, it's whiter than anyone's I've ever seen. His blue eyes are more a misty, bluey shade of white."

The screaming subsides to outbursts of an eerie intensity. It is hard to keep track of what is happening, other than everyone is fighting or hiding. From our viewpoint from under the table, we can see several concurrent, violent, bloody brawls, each leading to several bodies falling to the floor. I realise there are tears streaming down my face. I don't make a sound in case someone somewhere notices. As I huddle into James, partly hidden behind his arms, something amongst all the chaos in the opposite corner catches my eye. Its stillness is what makes it obvious.

Crouched on the floor holding a small child, at first, I mistake it for one of the parents. I focus, and the scene unfolds, making every hair on my arms stand upright. Resembling a wild animal that has conquered its prey, its teeth locked on the child's neck. Pale, translucent skin exposing the throbbing, blue veins beneath, as the blood pulses through them. Its arms a firm weave around the child's limp body. Its pallid, lime green eyes, stare at us. A lost droplet of blood escapes, devoured is the rest. All the while, those lime eyes stare with an undeniable intention directed, entirely at us.

It can't end this way. The words run circles in my head. Followed by another single, unimaginable word, vampire.

Everything changes with an immense crashing sound. The boat has run aground. With an incredible force, both James and I go flying in opposite directions, along with booth seats and tables, as the boat's foundations crumble. I land head first into the opposite wall shielded only by my hands. Water starts filling through a giant hole in the front of the room. By the time I regain a complete standing position, I am chest deep submerged, my vision blurring from the massive hit to the head. I feel for damage, turning my hands bloody.

James – I try to focus and search what is left of the room. The water level starts to reach my face. I take one final, massive breath before I am deep in water, dragged deeper by the pull of the sinking boat. Falling into the depths of its darkness, the ocean's silence is serene, in some way safe after the chaos floating above it. For a moment, I linger in this quietude. A flash of movement, something shooting past, sends water rippling in my direction, startling me back into action.

I fight against the drag, trying with all my strength to swim back to the surface. My throat burns for air. If it were possible, there would be tears still streaming down my face. I struggle harder. There is sky somewhere above. I need to find James.

Almost resigned, my face breaks through the water's surface. I take the longest breath, my lungs strain to contain it. There are desperate sounds of crying, calls for help. In the darkness, it's impossible to make out any faces. I call for James, but there's no reply. Debris and faceless bodies trying to keep afloat, riddle the water.

My heart only keeps sinking.

A larger piece of wood floats by, I grab at it with both hands, pulling my body on top of it. It is a piece containing part of the boat's name. Worlds away from the mindset I held earlier, looking down at this name, I now lie on it, struggling against the darkness. The words I never said left sitting on my lips.
Chapter 2

The first thing I notice is the coolness against my skin. For a short moment, a feeling of being safe, as if waking up in your own bed in the morning, rushes over me. Then, actual recognition of not being in any bed at all seeps into my mind. The cold, hard surface beneath me, triggers memories of the last moments of despair before the darkness, these memories creep through every part of my body, willing me to be still.

Flashbacks of the night before run through my head. Images of everyone fighting, scurrying as though bewildered animals, or hiding beneath tables. It is the thoughts of James that come to mind, cause the hardest struggle against the urge to leap to my feet, in search of him. I clear my mind. Hold my eyes closed in an attempt to conceal my waking, feel my surroundings first. I listen.

It is quiet. The only sound is an internal thud; it accompanies a blunt, pulsing pain coming from the side of my head. My hair is wet and matted, pressed up against my face. I can see light in that warm shade you see it in, when you close your eyes against the sun. Several futile minutes pass.

I open my eyes, using my eyelids to shield myself from an unwelcomed reality, brought about, by a resolute feeling of being watched. In large squares of white and black, a marble floor begins to sprawl outward from my narrow vision, beneath my matted hair. The marble shines against the light in this currently infinite room.

I pick myself up, and with every small ascent, as though a cold, silent breeze, their faces appear. Encircling me, they fill every end of the room. Observing with severe fascination, through striking, deviant faces, they share an evil perfection within their features. A look of carved statutes made of the same substance that they stand on. I am the only human among them. There are at least one hundred of them.

My waking brings smiles to some observer's faces, revealing the sharp teeth hiding beneath their lips, others snicker at each other, share whispers too faint to decipher.

I mask emotions trying to contain the fear rising within me. This unnatural world becomes all that there is. Held in voiceless stillness, a reflection of my watchers, there is no tangible escape. I am a feeble lamb led to the slaughter. All the while, they watch, most of them stand, some lean against decorative columns. Dressed in fine formal attire, they congregate, stare, and whisper.

Across from me, beneath savage, painted depictions of war, staging numerous men losing limbs and lives is an area furnished with armchairs and lounges of a French Provisional style. Black and white striped lounges that currently comfort several lazing vampires, sprawled as royalty, beckoning to be served. Slim silhouettes of bone and muscle, they are reminiscent of well-bred greyhounds, which share in the same flawless, dusty skin, transcending human races, creating a new collective one.

Every so often, I catch one of their iniquitous eyes, and one after another, they sneer, exposing longer-than-normal human canine teeth. One particularly vicious female with straight, jet-black hair, and an assortment of large gold jewellery, glares at me with her yellow eyes from the centre armchair.

Leaning forward, she is poised as though ready to pounce.

"What a sad, little mouse, did you get caught out in the rain little one?" she asks – the amused, lazing vampires laugh. Groomed as if attending a formal dinner, they casually share in social chatter, as droplets of blood splatter on the marble floor, having rolled off the length of my hair.

"A cat got her tongue, perchance," says a female in a light-gold layered dress.

"I thought a dog would be fun?" says a male standing behind her. They share extended glances between one another. They come to an unspoken agreement.

The murmurings from the rest of the room of vampires intensify. Dread finds me as I regard the cruelty these powerful creatures can inflict, but rather than allow them the satisfaction of a fearful display, I glare back at them. The yellow-eyed vampire waves her hand. The attention in the room turns to the left doors where an extremely tall, bald male in a midnight blue tuxedo stands.

"Let the game begin," he bellows with a deep rasping voice that echoes through the hall, as he slams down on the floor, three consecutive times, with a thick, wooden walking stick. The hall waits in silence, before movement begins amongst the standing vampires to my right. They disperse enough to make way for a male vampire, with piercing grey eyes, and long, dark brown hair.

He comes to stand a few steps ahead of the rest.

For an extended time he simply stares with eyes that command attention, his inner intentions unclear. Pulling a blade from the inside of his long, dark-grey jacket, he leans down. In a palpable gesture to arm not harm, he slides the blade across the marble floor. Perfect precision, the blade stops a few inches from my bare feet. He disappears back into the crowd.

I stare down at the knife. An embellished handle with glistening stones of red and white, rubies and diamonds, sparkles under the bright lights. The blade sits slightly curved upward at the tip. I look away, avoiding ideas, why a blade curves this way. Through the hum of murmurs, I catch scattered words here and there.

"You will lose," is the most common phrase.

A resounding further three slams of the walking stick, and the distinct sound of heavy, animal paws tapping along the marble start at the doors to the left, and come to stop behind me. I consider my options, with nowhere to run, no one to help if I scream, no one to care if I plead, one option remains. In a continuous motion, I lower myself, picking up the knife. I turn to face what stalks behind me.

Soundlessly, two enormous, vampiric dogs stand, hairless, with black and dark-blue skin. They break their noiseless stance the second I complete my turn – ferocious snarls, savage growling, saliva drips off their extended teeth. A muscular, female vampire stands between them. Electric blue coloured streaks through her short, light brown hair. She shares her sinister smile with everyone in the room, while tapping a short, wooden whip against her long, pencil skirt.

"One by one or all at once?" says the female with the jet-black hair. I turn to my side to watch her as various by-standing vampires yell, "All at once."

Their response invites a sadistic smile to her small, sharp face. She rises from her comfortable chair, walking closer to the centre of the hall, opening the palm of her right hand as she moves, to reveal a large, golden coin.

"All at once or one by one?" she says.

"Only one," says a smooth male voice, in an English accent. His comment sends sniggers rippling through the entire vampire ensemble. The female with the jet-black hair and yellow eyes, surveys the room, seemingly pondering the suggestion. After a moment, she smiles, appearing satisfied with an internal decision.

"Only one or both at once, who will second?" she commands.

"I will second," says a velvety, female voice. A splash of her dark red hair is visible from where she stands at the back of the crowd of vampires. Imperceptibly, she holds the power to bargain with my destiny.

"Then choose a side," says the yellow-eyed vampire.

"Heads," calls the male with the English accent.

The hall fills with the sounds of vampire whispers.

She plays with the golden coin in her hand, flicking it down along her red, manicured fingers. She takes her time. Then, with a soft, high throw, the coin tumbles through the air, past carvings of tangled snakes, arranged around black, crystal chandeliers, before falling to ground. It rolls for a length of time, and then stops.

My fate is sealed.

The yellow-eyed vampire walks over to the idle coin, her long, tan, organza gown floating across the room. After slightly lowering her fiendish yellow eyes, she turns, making her way back to her chair. About to retake her seat and with her back still turned to the crowd she proclaims, "Heads it is."

I turn to face the dogs, with a subtle instruction from its guardian vampire, one lurches in my direction – unsure what drives me, in a state somewhere beyond fear; I harden my stance, aim the curved tip of the blade toward the ground, and prepare for the attack. The dog charges, as it gets within arm's length, I begin to swing down with the knife – we meet at a point, where we are face-to-face, its putrid breath has swept across the space between us.

I plunge the blade deep into its skull.

A discordant yell escapes the mouth of the blue haired vampire. She is ready to attack in the hound's defence, but it has ended in less than a second. The dog's momentum pushes its limp body sliding past me, across the marble floor, all the way to the lazing vampires. It comes to a stop at the feet, of the vampire with the jet-black hair. The hall buzzes with an excited anticipation. My hands covered in blood, I have escaped, unharmed.

The vampire with the jet-black hair bursts out in laughter. The rest of room joins her, all except for the guardian vampire who leaves, her remaining dog, following closely behind her. In time, the laughter subsides. The yellow-eyed vampire digs her stiletto heel into the dead dog's shoulder. She wrenches the blade out from its scull. Throwing the knife at the standing vampires, it is caught by the grey-eyed one.

"Nice selection, John. I am – entertained," she says. The grey-eyed vampire offers her a small bow. She motions with a sweeping wave of her hand. A large vampire, whose appearance reflects a biker gang member, dressed in three-piece suit, appears by my side. Another wave of her hand, she concludes, "Remove it from the Court."

At once, the large vampire is pulling me by the arm, in the direction of the large, black doors to the right. I allow the vampire to lead me. We pass the grey-eyed vampire. He is watching us, as the rest of the room of vampires, has already forgotten us. I try not to imagine what he has gained in supplying the knife.

A strange calmness runs through my body as we pass him by.

We make our way through the open doors. Two determined vampires march down the long, plain corridor, delivering the next unwilling contestant. A vampire at each arm, screaming, and trying to get free from their explicit hold, is the blonde waitress from the boat. Her beautiful long, wavy hair in curtains of firm knots. Her torn navy pants exposing dried blood across her deeply scraped knees. They drag her past. As recognition crosses her desperate face, she begins to plead for me to help her, but there is nothing, I can do for her.
Chapter 3

The metal bar door slams shut against the concrete wall. The suited, biker vampire has disappeared back up the high staircase that leads to the long, plain corridor of the hall. Leaning my back against these bars, I look across the dim, ice-cold room, filled with strangers, huddling together for warmth. Some of them are hurt – bleeding or crying, others seem less harmed. All are lost in a shared misery, quietly freezing.

The first thing I did was look over every face in search of James, now I stand here, watching my feet turn various shades of blue. There are three small, metal barred windows, high up along each of the three tall walls, other than these, nothing else, but bare concrete and metal doors. Along parts of the back walls, there are scribbled messages. I will read them once the light in the room improves.

"You should sit with us, it's close to freezing. Body heat is all we have to keep warm," says a skinny, brown haired man. For a moment, I consider if freezing to death is the better option. Without reply, I join them. He covers my shoulders with a wispy summer shirt that he and an older woman are sharing. We share in what warmth there is between us without any conversation.

For an extended time, no one speaks, creating a thick self-absorbed silence. I can hear the chatter of teeth and strained breathing all around me. Others take turns walking the cell, desperate attempts at keeping warm. Their exhaled breaths form white mists, resembling halos around their heads.

"Were you on the boat?" the woman sharing the summer shirt asks. I nod my head.

"I think we were all on the boat. I'm Michael," says the brown haired man. He extends his hand in defeated welcome, but retracts it, noticing the blood on mine.

"I'm Judy," says the woman, pretending not to see the blood. I hide my hands beneath the yellow, cotton shirt.

"I don't remember seeing either of you on the boat. How did we get here?" I'm surprised not to remember anyone. I guess there would have been about eighty of us on the boat. I guess they wouldn't be looking the way they do now.

"This is where we woke up. No one remembers how we got here. The last thing I remember is being dragged under water," Michael says.

"I remember being hit on the back of my head, then waking up here. This is where we've been all night," Judy says. She pauses for a moment as though collating her words, and then continues, "Every so often, they'll come, you know, those creatures. They collect someone. They don't bring them back. You're the first to return."

"What do you mean return?" I ask.

"You were here with us. We couldn't wake you," Michael says. His words hang in the air. I try in vain to recall anything before my waking in the hall.

"Alice, my name's Alice," I tell them with another nod of my head. "Was my husband here? His name's James, he has blonde hair – blue eyes. He was wearing jeans and a light blue t-shirt, have you see him?"

"I'm sorry," Michael says.

"It's probably a good thing love, maybe he swam to shore," Judy adds with a compassionate frown on her face. Maybe he swam to shore. I know James is a good swimmer. It's possible he could have made it if he tried. I run through the moments before the sinking. I don't recall seeing him after the boat's foundations crumbled.

I push further thinking aside for another time. He's fine. I know he is.

"Why is it so cold in here? I know it is winter but we're in Florida, seriously. Have you tried having a look out the windows?" I ask. Frustration kicks in as the relentless chill begins to seep deeper into my bones.

"The windows are too high," Michael says. It prompts me to stand, try to revaluate the height of the windows for myself. Anything is better than sitting here, wallowing in despair. I pace the room with deliberation, and decide although tall, I'm not that heavy. I'm sure that if someone would lift me, I could see over the window's ledge.

"How tall are you Michael?" I ask and he tells me he's six feet tall. "If you lift me on your shoulders, I may be able to reach the window to take a look, will you try?"

He considers my request for half a second then jumps to his feet, "Okay, let's try it."

We stumble a couple of times, find I can't reach the window on his shoulders alone. We coax Judy and a couple of the other men to help. Together, they manage to lift me, two of them at each foot, raising me to a point where I can reach the window's ledge with my fingers. I strain to pull myself up. An icy cold wind blows through the small barred window causing me to shiver. I grab at the bars, pulling myself up higher, until my eyes peak over the ledge.

"It's coming dawn." The glow of the rising sun is starting to light the sky outside. I look over the ledge trying to see more. A flake of snow falls on my cheek. "What –"

"What? What is it?" various voices ask.

"It's snowing. Can you lift me higher? I can't see anything but the sky."

They struggle below me, lifting me higher, over the height of the ledge. I wrap my arms through and around the bars, lifting further still, until finally, I have a clear view out of the small window. There is a forest, snow cosseted and dense, encircled by a myriad of mountains. A labyrinth of landscaped hedging creates an extensive maze, which leads to a vast, in parts, frozen lake. Ravens fly across the clouded sky as more snowflakes start to fall. How long was I sleeping not to have realised at the least crossing state lines? Morning is just breaking. How far could we have travelled?

"What can you see?" someone yells. Before I can answer, I'm falling back to the ground. Various hands try to catch me.

"There's a forest, and it's covered with snow, and an iced up lake, there's no way we're in Florida." I stumble trying to regain my balance. They stare at me with confused expressions. I point up at the small window. "Take a look for yourselves. Why do you think it's so cold in here? There is snow coming in through the window."

Michael begins to reply, but is distracted by the sound of heeled footsteps, coming down the stairs. Everyone who isn't already standing jumps to his or her feet. They rush to press their backs against the furthest wall from the bars. Michael pulls at my arm, and so I join them.

Four vampires, two females dressed in elaborate ball gowns of light orange and green, accompanied by the biker vampire, and a male dressed in antique suiting, stroll torpidly past the door. They peer through the gaps in the bars, akin to humans looking for animals in a pet store, trying to decide which one to take home. Between smiles and amused looks, they speak in an ancient sounding language, unlike any dialect I've heard before. They take their time looking over us before turning to the large vampire with their request. He opens the metal bar door, walks toward a large, muscular man standing in the opposite corner from us. He grabs him by the arm.

The man struggles, kicking and punching at the vampire, but without much effort on the part of the vampire, the man is held in a headlock, then forcibly walked through the door. The biker vampire locks the door behind him, making his way back up the high staircase, the man still restrained in a headlock. Resembling excited children, the three accompanying vampires laugh, as they follow behind him.

"That's it, I'm not waiting around to be collected by one of those freaks," a man yells. He walks toward the door, hits the lock with his hand.

"It's pointless, if you could get past the door, the stairs lead straight to a hall full of them." The shattered look on his face makes me regret saying anything at all.

"This has been going on for hours. There were about forty of us at the start, we're down to fifteen – fourteen now. Tell us what is going on out there," says a chubby woman with short-cropped hair. They stare at me wordlessly demanding answers – I explain what happened. I explain waking up to one hundred deviant faces. I explain the lazing vampires, the dogs, the knife, and the blood on my hands. I continue explaining until every question is satisfied, every detail exhausted, and every person resigned, back into their communal misery.

Time passes. Daylight shines through the small barred windows. Snow continues to fall, collecting in piles on the floor around us. No vampires come to visit us. The shared despair in the room deepens as the cold persists, encouraged by regular icy winds. They begin to fall asleep, some stop moving, including Judy who lies rigid against Michael's shoulder. I can hear Michael's teeth rattling beside me as he tries to speak, the words taking considerable time to leave his mouth.

"How long have you been married?" he asks.

"Four days."

"I have a daughter, she's five." I smile at him with grit, chattering teeth. I don't want to ask if his daughter was on the boat. "Where do you think we are?"

"I don't know – the Southwest – I've been there before – it looks similar," my words come out in bits. I remember a road trip to the Grand Canyon a few years back, the glossy black ravens for some reason reminding me of that trip.

"Like cats playing with mice, purely for entertainment," he says.

"It seems a lot of effort just to play games – still, why move us, why not kill us then and there." I whisper the last few words. Michael whispers back.

"They can take their time this way. What else have they got to do, but hide in the shadows, playing with humans like us?"

"I have no idea – I can't believe they exist." Michael turns, nudging Judy to wake. Her body falls, propping up against the adjacent wall.

Hours pass. We fall in and out of sleep. The light from the windows begins to dim; night will shortly come creeping through the growing dungeon shadows.

"Alice, stay awake." Michael's voice prods my closed eyes open.

"I thought I was awake. I was dreaming of this dungeon." We share in a laugh. Then panic sets in. Night is coming. I haven't read the messages on the walls. James might have been here. He might have left me a message. I try to make myself stand. I'm too cold to move. The room falls back into darkness, the only remaining light oozing from the high staircase. Everyone who had taken turns moving about the cell has become ever still. We are still.

I notice a shadow from the corner of my eye. There is a figure crouched on the floor on the other side of the bars. He has come down the stairs without a sound. Who knows for how long he has been watching. He doesn't flinch at being discovered. No one but Michael has noticed him. Michael's grip around my shoulders tightens.

We wait while the vampire examines us.

When satisfied to his content he rises out from his crouched position, makes his way back toward the stairs, his light grey eyes watching no one, but us.

"What the hell?" Michael says, once the vampire is out of sight.

"He's the vampire that gave me the knife." Michael starts to say something, but holds it back, whatever it is he is thinking he chooses not to share it with me. We retreat into a pensive silence.

Time continues to pass. Falling in and out of slumber, we allow ourselves longer periods of sleep. A constant numbness remains of what was a piercing cold against my skin. Laughter, the sound of heels along the stairs, this time two unaccompanied females, laughing as if socialising at a party, come to the door with key in hand. They peer through the bars with incisive eyes. This time no one stands. Most don't open their eyes. The brunette vampire with wild, curly hair sweeps her eyes across the room. She stops when she sees Michael.

"That is the one," she says to the blonde female alongside her. She nudges her face in our direction. We are unable to respond, although aware.

She opens the door. They flow into the dungeon in a deluge of colour, lace, and satin. Dark reds and navy blues on soft, shiny fabric colour the insipid space between us. I look at Michael. He gives my shoulders one final squeeze before letting go of the shirt. Not long after, the vampires drag him across the icy floor. The door slams shut. I can hear them drag him up the staircase, through the corridor of the hall, then silence. I stare at the bars for an endless amount of time.

I no longer know when I am sleeping, awake, or how much time is lost. The dreams start, recurring dreams of falling, never reaching solid ground. Snowflakes float through the air, reminding me of glitter, sprinkling down to the piles mounting on the floor. I follow their flight with my eyes from the windows all the way to the ground, and he stands behind the bars, having once again returned.

He opens the door, makes his way to where I sit, pinned up against the wall, unmoving. When by my side, he crouches so that his face is level with mine. He looks me over, reminiscent of a doctor studying a patient.

"You are going to die. If you come with me, you might live," he says, in an English accent. "Come with me."

I should stay; death would have to be near. All this will be over – my mind falls on James, falls on all the ones I love, and then I want to live. I want to take every chance I have to live. Unable to speak, I lower my head while holding his gaze. He picks me up off the floor, cradling my body in his arms.

He carries me out of the frozen dungeon.
Chapter 4

I rise from sleeping on my back to a sitting position with fists clenched in the air, having fallen straight out of a nightmare, I can't even remember. I am naked, my jewellery taken. I'm alone on a four-post bed in a room I've never seen before. A long black dress and a hairbrush sit on the end of the bed. I kick the dress to the floor. They're dreaming if they think I will wear anything but my own clothes.

French doors dressed with copious, elaborate blinds, left open, reveal the sky outside. Night is falling. I have slept through an entire day. Taking the bed sheet for cover, I head to the French doors, finding them locked. Outside, there is a garden, surrounded by a high, brick wall. I make my way to the bathroom in search of water, checking the internal door as I go, again locked.

There are no mirrors in what is an excessively large, white bathroom. Not a drop of water falls from any tap, making my thirst grow stronger. Taking a seat on the edge of the freestanding bathtub, I try to clear my head, think this through. I remember he carried me out of the frozen dungeon. I can't recall how I made it to this room. Everything that has happened in between is a lost dream.

I need to find a way out of here.

My internal thoughts are loud, screaming at me to run. They stop as soon as I hear the quiet clicks of the internal door open, and close. There's nowhere else to go, no locks on the bathroom door to buy me any time, no options, but to return to the only other room. It takes time to make my legs move, they take me as far as the bathroom door. The grey-eyed vampire is waiting by one of the bedposts.

He stares at me, without a word, his eyes trace my frame, from my face down to my feet. Despite the muted lighting, his long, dark hair glistens. He's much taller than I remember. He takes my presence in, every part, before motioning with his hand for me to come closer. It takes a moment to make my legs follow.

Noticing the dress on the floor, he picks it up, a slight smile on his lips. Once within his reach, he takes the sheet from my hands. He takes his time, pulling the dress over my head and through my arms, stopping to smooth the soft material with his palms. He pats the bed with his hand for me to sit, then talks while brushing through the knots in my hair.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks.

"It's as if I've slept for days." A slight nod of his head, he seems to approve.

"My name is John Smith. And you are?"

"Alice Lavoie. I mean Alice Whyte – do you have my rings?" He doesn't answer, instead stares at me, as if trying to read my mind. I feel a growing closeness toward him, an emotional state devoid of any reasonable fears that should reside there. Calmness, similar to one I felt when passing him in the hall, settles my nerves.

"I assume you have many questions," he says looking toward the French doors. "We can talk elsewhere." He stands, opens the doors with a silver key, he finds in his pocket. I follow him, and we make our way into the small, enclosed garden, then through a black wrought-iron gate. We reach an uninterrupted view of the forest. There are patches of snow scattered here and there, the majority seems to have melted through the day. He turns to me once again to tell me, "It is just past the trees."

"What is?"

"You will see." In this moment, fear finds me, delivered, by a sinister tone underlying his smooth, calm voice. The fear grabs at my legs. It crawls under my skin – if he had wanted me dead, he could have done it already. If this is just another game, there is no alternative, but to play along. I gather myself. Pretend to be brave.

We walk through the short wild grass; it tickles the soles of my feet. We make our way under antediluvian trees eventually reaching a building made of wood and glass.

"What is this?" I ask, and again, he replies, "You will see."

An electrical hum of sorts buzzes from behind the wooden door. He enters ahead of me, flicks a switch. It lights the area past the entrance corridor. I climb the short steps up to the door, trying to see as much of the room as I can, before entering after him.

"Is there water here?" I ask, the thirst becoming unbearable. He points toward a small sink, under a window, around the corner. I restrain from rushing straight for it. Once there, I take a long time drinking, and wetting my face and hair. "Why is there no water in the other room?"

"The water in the house is limited to certain areas." He pushes through the wire-screen doors, entering a large, open room. He holds the door, waits for me to enter. The lights in this new room are bright, creating a strong source of heat, making the room toasty warm, a contrast to the cool winter air outside. We walk along the polished, concrete floor, through a maze of leafy plants, but this isn't a greenhouse.

"I hope you like butterflies," he says, and they are everywhere.

A large white butterfly hovers, right in front of my face. I don't tell him how it reminds me of a time, when I mistook a floating scrap of paper, for a butterfly of this size. I don't tell him how I like the blue coloured ones. We walk several aisles, past tables littered with flowering plants. They impart the sweetest fragrances into this warm, colourful world.

"Vampires and butterflies – who would have thought," I say. He smiles exposing his long, canine teeth, before turning away. He points toward a wooden two-seater, beside a water feature made of stone. We make our way there, taking a seat, I notice, there are large spotted fish, swimming within the water feature's shallow pond.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I expected you would be thirsty. You look better. How do you feel?"

"I feel fine. Where are we?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does." He takes a deep breath – silence prevails. I can't draw my eyes away from his face. He has eyes in the lightest shade of grey, almost translucent if not for the sparse flecks of darker grey. His complexion would be perfect, if it weren't, for the visible blue veins beneath his skin. We stay seated for a while, without anything to say, it is my turn to stare at him.

"There is more to see upstairs," he says standing, he leads the way with an outstretched arm. We climb metal stairs to the upper level to stand under a ceiling made entirely of glass.

"I wonder if the butterfly remembers being the caterpillar," I say, looking up at the night sky. I want to know more about what he is. It's better to know one's enemy.

"I do not think so." He answers quickly, takes a seat at the top of the stairs.

"Were you born this way?"

"It was a long time ago. Do you enjoy being human, Alice?"

"I'm unsure how to answer that question. What do you want with me?"

"My question first," he says, his voice turning coarse. "Answer the question, Alice. Just say what comes to mind."

"Yes, I like being human. Have you ever been one?"

"Is that all you want to know about?"

"I want to know a lot of things. Where are we? Where are my rings? What do –"

"Can you not answer one question without asking another?" I don't reply. He doesn't answer any of my questions – a smile creeps along his lips. "You have to know the right questions to ask, Alice." He lies on his back, looks up at the stars.

"Why did you give me the knife?" Maybe this is a better question.

"You needed a weapon to have any chance of surviving. Though, just how well you survived, I believe surprised everyone."

"Why did you help me?"

"I thought you deserved a fair fight."

"Is that your reason?" His evasiveness is frustrating, the frustration coming through in my voice. He sits up, gives me a look that silences me, it catches my breath.

He stands, and our conversation ends.

We walk the second floor. Flowers, and more butterflies. I never knew there were this many different breeds. He knows everything about them. We spend a long time in the butterfly house.

"Did you know there are more types of insects in a single rain forest tree than there are in the entire state of Vermont?" he says. The conversation flows easier when it's not about us. Snow starts to fall on the roof. It melts on the warm glass. He tells me that 'I must do as he says,' and then he talks of New Orleans. He asks if I would like to visit the city. I tell him, I already have. The truth is I haven't. "You will have only my blood for the next fourteen days."

"Why is that?" The memories come the second I finish my sentence. Flashbacks from nowhere fill in the missing pieces. I remember he carried me through the black and white hall, past sweeping, curious faces. I remember misshaped sea pearls rolling along the marble floor. My bracelet fell and dispersed. "Where are my clothes?"

"You have new clothes. The ones you had were tattered."

"I want my clothes, and why can't I remember what happened?"

"It is because you are ill, Alice. You near froze to death, not to mention the head injury you sustained." I run my hand through my hair, find no trace of the injury I gained on the boat, not a graze. He stands by a door, along the wall, opposite the stairs. He waits for me to reach him, makes me enter first.

I don't know why I follow his commands.

The room is small, warmer. It is much darker than the main area. I'm not sure if it's the sudden rush of fear from confinement in such a small space, but whatever the reason, more memories start to surface; memories of dark red carpets, touching gold-dusted walls with the tips of my fingers, he carried me through a maze of corridors, countless doors. Some of these doors exposed scenes of frenzied feeding vampires.

"Have you seen a butterfly come to life?" The sound of his voice snaps me back to the present. My new memories sit fresh in my mind. They keep my voice tight in my throat. Draws and benches line the walls of this dark, small room. There are glass compartments along the bench tops. He explains the various cycles a caterpillar goes through in its transitory life, as we pass each compartment, each holding different sized caterpillars. I barely listen. My internal panic grows. It begins to show through my shaking hands. I remember drinking his blood. I remember wanting it.

"You fed me your blood."

"There is no other source of nourishment in this house."

"What do you mean, and why fourteen days?"

"We cannot leave for fourteen days – there is a set of rules we need to play by so that you can leave here alive. I do not make these rules."

"But if I drink your blood, will it make me like you?"

"It is not that simple Alice, you have had my blood, are you not still human? As I said, it can be had as a replacement to regular food." He moves in closer, I stumble, bumping into the bench behind me, trying hard to keep the distance between us. The room feels as if it's closing in. I struggle against the impulse to scream. He points behind me. I don't know why, but I turn to look. At first, it seems nothing more than sticks and leaves, as I focus I see a chrysalis along one of the sticks. There's a butterfly almost free from its insides. I watch the butterfly fighting to break free from its no longer needed abode. Once out, it stretches its moist, wrinkled wings.

"It will wait for its wings to dry, before it tries to fly." I feel his breath on the back of my neck as he speaks, and turn to face him. Then I see the cut on his wrist, it is deep and bleeding. "It will heal you, feed the hunger. It will satisfy the thirst."

He brings his wrist to my mouth, my mind protests – my hands hold his wrist tight against my lips. The blood flows, quenching my thirst, more than the water had. It feeds a suppressed, but undeniable hunger. I glimpse the moon through the sheer curtained window. It creeps behind the mountains. He watches me with that smile on his lips. My mind resigns to the moment, letting my thoughts fall along the metal floor, in small broken pieces. I am lost, in a world of vampires, blood, and butterflies.
Chapter 5

I wake to the warmth of the sun against my skin, coming in through the open French doors. A cool breeze sweeps through my comfortable borstal. I am no less a prisoner in my garden cell, than I was in the frozen dungeon, only now shrouded in decadent garb. A new long, black dress rests at the end of the bed, this one fancier than the last, with ruffled shoulder straps. A black bodice added to my ensemble, still no shoes.

After another futile search for water, I dress, before making my way out into the small, enclosed garden. It would have to be late afternoon. The sun is not at its highest peak in the sky. It is no less wonderful to see. I check if the wrought-iron gate by chance is unlocked, as expected, it is not. I take a seat on the ground beside it.

It's hard to believe all that has passed over the last few days. I count back trying to calculate the exact number of days. There was the night of the boat attack, then two nights in the dungeon. No, half a night really, the dogfight was on the same night as the boat sinking. The second night half spent in the dungeon, half spent drinking his blood. I barely remember it. Then there is last night – two nights out of the intended fourteen, three nights in all.

It's amazing how in an instant life can change. I had everything set the way I wanted it. There was much to look forward to, now I have nothing, and no control of what happens next. I want to know where James is, is he safe, or as lost as I am in this dark, secret world. There has been no sign of him. I should have read the messages on the walls, but Michael did say he never saw him. I have no one else to ask. The last thing I want is to put him in danger, if he is here at all.

It's strange the things that come to mind, the small memories rather than the life changing ones. I think of the morning sun peeking through open blinds, watching dust particles float while he slept in my arms. I think of piggyback rides through the water, on the private beach by the hotel. I sift through an assortment of moments as these.

A fluffy, white rabbit hops across the forest floor. It stops to stare at me, before disappearing behind a giant tree.

I can't believe I am drinking vampire blood. It can be rationalised as a means of survival, but there has to be point where I draw the line, call this as far as I go. I decide here and now, I won't continue drinking for fourteen days. I dislike how specific a number it is. Besides, I hope to find a way out before then. I'm sure the blood is clouding my mind more than my being unwell. The walk back from the butterfly house last night feels more of a daydream. I was walking barefoot through snow, or maybe that was a dream. The entire night is hard to comprehend.

I need to find something to climb over these walls. They appear impossible to scale, unless maybe, the bed will do. The wooden frame at the top of the bed connecting the posts should be high enough to get me over. I'll try moving it in the morning, the earlier the better. This will give me time to run through the day, before he awakes in the night. It is clear they are only out after dark.

Thoughts of leaving here bring on thoughts of him – John. His blood has a hold on me that I can't deny. Somehow, I feel drawn to him. He did save my life twice, once by supplying the knife, then by collecting me from the dungeon – he is no less a vampire. I need to remember this. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be here.

It scares me how little control I have around him.

"You let them take her. You stood around like dazed cattle, waiting at the slaughter. Why didn't you help?" a man yells. It startles me to my feet. There is a network of external walls along this entire side of the building. These must be more garden cells. To my left there is another gate, where the yelling man stands. He is waving his hands at someone out of view.

"What did you want us to do? You know they're too strong for us to fight them," says a female voice.

"One on one maybe not, but if we all tried –" He stops short his sentence, he sees me standing by the gate. "Who the hell are you meant to be?" His comment quickly draws a crowd. There are maybe fifteen men and women now staring at me, waiting for an answer. I'm lost for words.

"Alice?" a male voice calls from behind the crowd. For a moment, I forget to breathe. Could it be James? It feels long ago since I last saw him. They move aside, make way for someone to come through. "Alice, is that you?"

"Michael –" My voice breaks. I try to hide my disappointment. It's not James, but I am glad to see Michael alive. "Are you okay, Michael?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's good to see you're okay, Alice."

"You too. What's going on?" The crowd losing interest disperses. They continue their argument, out of sight, behind the brick wall.

"The vampires took his wife. They're separating everyone who knows each other. How did you get out of the dungeon?"

"The grey-eyed vampire." Recognition crosses his face. He changes the subject.

"It's freezing, aren't you cold?" Michael is wearing what looks to be at least two layers of clothing. I honestly can't see why.

"It's not that cold, seriously."

"Can you add a layer for my sake? It's making me cold just looking at you." He gives me an awkward look. "Where did you get that dress, Alice?"

I throw him an exaggeration of his own look, before returning to the room to grab a blanket. I don't see why all the fuss. It's not that cold. Still, my dress has caused more attention than I'd like, at least the cold gives me a reason to cover up. I grab the brush, before going back outside to take a seat, cross-legged by the gate. Michael returns after a short while.

"Where'd you go?" I ask, brushing my hair.

"New Caledonia. The beaches are beautiful."

"Your very funny, Michael. I will have to make time to see these beaches." He lets out a loud laugh. It reminds of James. "Michael – have you seen James?"

"No, I haven't. I'm sorry, Alice."

"It's okay. It is better that he's not here. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"We've talked about it for hours. There's nothing else to do. There are twenty of us packed into this room, no beds, no blankets, nothing – it's hard to sleep. They are playing games, separating everyone. I think it's to break us."

"It might be a way to control us."

"It could be, either way it's not good. How many are there in your room?"

"It's just me, Michael." He stops talking, looks me over. I know what his silence implies, but I have no answers. I don't know why twenty of them share the floor of a single room, why I sleep in a king-sized four-post bed, why their clothes look worn, or why mine seem brand new. He pulls himself away from his thoughts. "At least we're still alive. I haven't seen anyone else from the dungeon except for the big guy, the one forced out in a headlock. You remember him, don't you?"

"Yes, I remember."

"He's here as well. The other's say, they saw people packed into trucks, squashed like sardines. It seems we're livestock for the vampire masses. This is big, Alice."

"Did you actually see this happen?"

"It happened just before we arrived, four nights ago. Some of them watched their families forced into these trucks. We weren't the first ones here, Alice. Some have been here for over a week. There were others before them."

"What happened to them?"

"If they weren't packed into trucks, they were killed." His words run a chill down my spine. I don't know what to say. There has to be way out. I refuse to die here – if what Michael is saying is true, it must also mean, there's an entire network of vampires operating under the surface. If it's happening here, then there's no reason why, it wouldn't be happening everywhere.

"It's hard to believe at first, but it shouldn't be. There's no reason why they wouldn't have complete subculture running under the surface. They're intelligent enough," I say.

"Exactly, and well financed by the look of it."

We spend the next couple of hours discussing theories. We can't come to a definitive agreement as to why we are alive or treated different. Michael goes back to his theory of fun, 'like cats playing with mice.' There is another reason why they would need us, a reason other than a source of food. We can see their need for human allies of sorts, since they don't seem to move through the day. Maybe, this is the reason behind John's interest in me. This could also be the reason they separate everyone who knows each other. It brings us back to my theory of control, of them having a way of making us do as they please.

I want to tell Michael about drinking John's blood, but I don't. This means I can't openly discuss how it's a more complicated process than just drinking, a process that I'm not entirely aware of myself. I will tell him when I'm ready. By the time, we have run out of ideas, the sun has moved across the sky. The sky has turned a light shade of ink blue. The sun is disappearing behind the mountains, leaving the forest to cast its shadow over our garden cells. They will be waking soon.

"I really am glad to see you Michael. I'm glad that you're okay."

"Thanks, Alice." Startled, he looks behind him. "I have to go, they're here."

Trying to hear what is happening behind the brick wall, I stand at the gate, listening, when it appears. A vampire stands by Michael's gate. It's hard to tell if it's female or male, masculine and feminine at the same time. It has a multitude of piercings, various colours streaked through its partly shaved hair. Its eyes are a light shade of red. Its clothes made of human skin. Before disappearing back behind the brick wall, it gives me a menacing smirk.

I race into the room, locking the French doors, closing the blinds behind me. Checking under the bed, then the bathroom, to make sure I'm alone, before crawling into the bed. There is nothing for me to do, but wait. Wait to see what happens next, to see who visits. In light of the creature I witnessed, the thought of it being John that comes doesn't seem as bad. I worry for Michael, hope he makes it through the night. I worry for James, why I haven't seen him anywhere.

As I lie on my side, consumed by my thoughts, I feel a subtle pressure across the sheets. I turn upright back to my middle – it is John. He has been silently creeping just above my lying body, having started at my feet. As he moves, his piercing grey eyes never leave mine. Pinned and encircled by his arms on either side, I hear my own internal screams. I can't make myself move or speak a word.

Slow, deliberate movements, he reaches my navel, brushes his firm body against my hip. He continues, a snake, slithering across grass, hunting for prey. His face reaches mine, lingers, his breath against my cheek. Barely touching my skin, his lips move across to my ear. He whispers, one word, "Drink."

It sends a wanting through me that feels as if I'm falling backwards off a cliff face at unknown heights. Shirtless, his body is firm, entwined muscle. A bleeding cut across his chest leaves no other mark on any part of him that I can see. His skin is free of scars, unlike mine. I give in, just this once. I drink, this one last time.
Chapter 6

It's taken every ounce of energy I had, much more time than I planned, but I have managed to push the heaviest four-post bed in the world through the French doors. It sits in the garden, positioned near the back wall, closest to the forest. Considering I am running on almost no sleep, I think I've done well enough to deserve a break, time to reflect on how I plan to land on the other side, without breaking my legs.

I lie back on the bed looking up at the snowflakes that have started to sprinkle down from the sky. Opening my mouth, I let snowflakes settle on my tongue. It has been eerily quiet this morning. I've checked several times, looking out of my gate to see if Michael or anyone is about, there has been no one. I will call out to him, once I am on the other side. An idea comes to mind, a light bulb sparking to light. I can roll and tie the sheets together, creating a rope that I can tie to the bed, and throw over the wall. I should be able to hold onto the makeshift rope while on the other side until I am close enough to the ground to jump.

I start pulling the sheets off the bed and rolling. Reflections of John's bare skin flash across my mind's eye. I push the images aside. Roll the sheets. His skin is cool to touch. Tie the sheets together. Tie them again. The sooner I get over this wall the better. I feel more lost with every day that passes, and with each day, a part of me grows content in being lost.

After tying the two sheets together at one end, I tie the other end to the wooden frame connecting two of the posts. I pull at the sheets to check my knots, end up having to retie the knots a few times, before finally, they seem strong enough to carry my weight. Throwing the sheets over the wall, I take a deep breath, before climbing up on the bed, and standing just below the wooden frame closest to the wall. I jump up to grab a hold, pushing against the wall with my legs, trying to pull myself up. This takes a few goes but I manage to lift myself up. I balance, wrapped around the top of the frame – I hate how things always seem higher from the top looking down. Using the wall to balance myself, I begin to stand. I find I still have to stand on my toes just to reach the top of the wall with my fingers. This whole exercise is proving much harder in practice than it seemed in theory, but I'm almost there.

After repeatedly trying to lift myself up, standing on tiptoes unsuccessfully, I decide that the only way I am going to accomplish this is with a jump. I need to jump up to get a good grip of the top of the wall, before I can pull myself up. I take a couple of steps back on one of the sides. Bend my knees in order to give myself more of a push. I take a step forward before jumping with all the strength in my legs – I hit the wall hard, feel myself falling – a massive smack, the back of my head collides with the wooden frame. I land, bouncing in the middle of the bed. Blood runs down my face, the pain is consuming, crawling from the back of my head, wrapping itself around my face. It doesn't last long. Darkness takes over.

Light grey clouds float over the horizon pushed along by determined easterly winds. I can feel a cool breeze brush up against my skin. Both James and I stand holding hands while we watch the pale blue sky turn grey. His hold on my hand is firm. I can smell the faint scent of his favourite cologne. The clouds move quickly, before long, thick, heavy raindrops begin to fall, followed by an aching fear of losing him forever. All I can do is tell him to kiss me. He presses his warm lips against mine. We kiss as the rain falls. Thick, tepid drops cover our skin, soak through our clothes, covering every inch of us, but it's not rain at all that has fallen – we are drenched in blood.

My eyes open to a night sky.

It takes a moment to realise where I am before by impulse, I jump up into a crouched position, as though a runner ready for a race, only I go nowhere. John sits on the bed, his lips stained with blood.

"Did you drink from me?" I ask but he doesn't reply. I run my hand through my hair, find a massive gash at the back of my head, my hair matted with the blood I've lost. The bed covered in a mixture of snow and blood. "Did you drink from me?"

"Let me show you." He stays calm, reaches for my hand.

"No, just tell me what you've done."

"You have nothing to fear, Alice. I will show you."

We sit in silence, neither giving in to the other's request. He persists, reaching for my hand. I let him take it. He turns my palm to the sky, cradling it in one of his hands. He runs a nail across one of my fingers making a superficial cut, it none the less bleeds. I struggle to pull my hand away.

"Wait," the word hisses from between his teeth. Then, as though seeking my permission, he lowers his head, still holding my gaze. As his lips reach my hand, I feel him lick at the cut. He moves aside. I watch the cut close and fade. He wipes the remaining blood to reveal the cut completely healed. "The wound is severe. It is still bleeding. You have lost too much blood, Alice. Let me help you." There is a voice inside my head screaming apprehensions. I agree to let him. He cuts his wrist, places it in front of me. "Drink – it will quicken the healing process." My internal struggle fosters. I had promised myself that I wouldn't drink again. This does seem reason enough to drink one more time. "Drink, Alice."

He moves behind me, I hold his wrist in my hands; feel his fingers searching through my hair. He begins to lick at the wound. I drink from the cut on his wrist. The pain starts to ease almost instantly. We feed until the pain subsides completely, until the gash that was on my head has disappeared as if it never existed. Until, we are left sitting there, quietly watching one another.

"We have to go to New Orleans. We will be back by morning. I have a dress, and shoes for you to wear." He takes my hand, guides me to stand. Once again, I agree. I'm glad to leave this house if only for one night. I follow him through the forest, to the lake. He rinses my hair in the water, before brushing it neatly behind my ears. I dress in a new black dress, with a split on either side. I put on new black boots.

"Why do you always dress me in black?"

"It is all there is for now. I will bring you colours soon."

"Can you tell me where are we?"

"We are not far from Durango, in the state of Colorado." His sudden honesty surprises me. I question his concept of distance.

"How are we going to get to New Orleans and back before day?"

"I will show you," he says with a smile. He reaches for my hand, pulls me close. He picks me up in his arms. I feel his body tense, and suddenly we are flying through the air, leaving the lights of this prison mansion, further still, passing forest, and mountains. This is how we must have travelled from the boat to where we are in such a short time. I can't wait to tell Michael about this. I try hard not to scream.

It doesn't take long before we land on a deserted street in New Orleans.

Police sirens blare in the background, closer to us the sound of music, and voices coming from nearby terraces, styled in the distinct New Orleans heritage. All are different colours. We're in the French Quarter, as far as I can tell. Despite the circumstances, it is exciting to see this city.

"It is this way. We need to reach Bourbon Street," he says, and then takes my hand.

We walk in silence through the darkened back streets. My mind is anything but quiet. As always, his blood is making my head unclear, making these streets seem enchanted. Shadows seem to dance about, and at times the men we pass, resemble monsters out of nightmares. I fight for a grip on reality. His hold on my hand tightens.

We turn a corner to find ourselves on the quiet end of Bourbon Street. At least that's what he tells me. It is still bustling with locals and tourists, filled with the sounds of live music coming from nearby bars. We pass a street performer, covered in paint, pretending to be a statue. His eyes peek our way. He manages to regain his composure. It would be interesting to know what he makes of John. Our differences are obvious to me. I stop walking to take in everything happening around us. None of this makes sense. I can't see why he would risk taking me into a public place.

"Why are we here?" I ask.

"I am looking for someone. It will not take long."

"Why did I have to come with you?" He looks me over, but doesn't reply. He pulls at my hand to continue walking. We turn another corner, head toward a bar with no line of waiting patrons. We walk straight in without a backward glance from the two large bouncers at the door. The entrance leads into a corridor with a door on either side. One door leads to a bar, where a bartender wears a green suit. He smiles at me, as he talks to a woman with dark red, curly hair. She is sitting at the bar with her back to us. We go into the door on the right. This door leads to a room with table seating and two pianos on a low stage. Several drunken patrons sit at various seats, talking and laughing, as drunken patrons do. We take a seat near the stage.

"I will order our beverages," he says, as if we're a normal couple, although no one normally says 'beverages.' He walks over to the bar against the wall behind us – leaves me to question my own actions. I could run, make an excuse to walk away, find some way to escape. I don't understand why I've been complacent. I'll play along for now. Try not to make it obvious that I've decided to run.

"Hurricanes," John says, placing two drinks on the table. "This is the birthplace of the original Hurricane."

"Nice – I didn't know." I don't know what else to say. I should make light conversation. I point toward the stage. "Will there be live music tonight?"

"We are here to see the show."

"I thought we were here to look for someone."

"It may be one and the same, Alice." I take a sip of my drink expecting it to be sweet. The intense taste makes me cringe. "Do you not like it?"

"It's the strongest Hurricane I've ever tasted, that's for sure." I take another, longer sip. We sit in silence. John scans the room. He takes count of every person in attendance. He reminds me of the white-blonde haired vampire from the night of the boat attack. He is calm, meticulous. "Are you going to have your drink?" I ask, having finished mine. He laughs as he slides his drink toward me.

"The show is about to start." He nudges his head toward a tall brunette, making her way to the stage. She is remarkably beautiful in every way, from her shiny, thick hair, her flawless clear skin, down to her perfectly manicured nails. She sees John, delivers a secret smile that reveals her true nature – along with her sharp, canine teeth. She takes a seat at the piano, closest to us.

"How is everyone feeling tonight?" she asks. The crowd cheers. "What is everyone in the mood for, any requests?"

"Halleluiah," someone yells.

"Again," she laughs, but begins to play the piano to the tune of the requested song. This is it. I knock back the rest of my drink. Feeling braver with the help of the alcohol, I am ready to tell John that I need to leave, when she starts to sing – her voice runs through me, shaking me from the inside out. I've never heard anyone sing this way. I'm captivated, unable to speak. Her voice pulls at every emotion stored deep in my heart. Everyone is mesmerized not only me, they are frozen in their seats, eyes pinned to the stage. A runaway tear finds its way down my cheek. I swipe at it with my hand. Then, the realisation James is gone, finally sinks in. I will never see his face again. The life I had is gone. The person I was is lost without him. I no longer care for a white Christmas, or for any of the places, and things I wanted to see or do. My world has fallen apart. It will never be the same, no matter what I do.

I turn to find John watching me.

The song ends but no one cheers, the room is soundless until the brunette vampire starts to laugh then everyone starts to clap. They stand to fill her tip jar with notes. She resumes to play, to sing a new song, with that same voice that tears through the walls that keep our emotions hidden from the world, if not only from ourselves.

I can't stand to be here any longer. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I have told you why, Alice."

"I don't believe you – I – I need fresh air. I'll be back in a minute. Please, don't follow me." I walk out of the room without looking back. I'm surprised he didn't try to stop me. I continue down the corridor to an open-air area, and stop in the middle of the room looking up at the night sky, wondering what just happened, thankful for the cool, fresh air filling my lungs. When my focus comes back to the room around me, I see John, standing by one of the wooden pillars.

"Alice, it is time we leave."

"I thought you needed to meet someone."

"I have. It is done." He extends his hand for mine. I give it to him. There is no escaping him tonight, there is nowhere for me to run.
Chapter 7

I can't imagine a vampire leisurely riding a bicycle. By the French doors in my new garden cell is a bicycle leaning up against the wall. The small garden again surrounded by a high brick wall, is dimly lit with scattered solar lights, nestled in overflowing garden beds. It is a smaller room, without a four-post bed for me to attempt another climb. At least there is a bed. The thought makes me think of Michael, but my mind quickly turns to other things.

John walks through the French doors in a fast pace directed at me, without a word, in seconds, he is inches from my face. His arms wrap around me, keep me still within his hold. He stares into my eyes as though searching for something. Not finding what he is looking for, he releases me. It makes my breath catch in my throat.

I have no personal space, but then, we have just shared blood. I guess he assumes I need none. Tonight, I am out of excuses.

"Come, we are going out for a walk," he says, and starts toward the gate. It leads to the external, maintained grounds. As he turns, I notice that he is carrying a large bow and several arrows in a sling on his back. We make our way to the huge labyrinth made of hedging plants, the one I spied through the dungeon window. Every now and then, he turns to check where I am. He walks ahead of me. I find this strange. We normally walk together.

"Hello John," says a husky female voice from behind the labyrinth entrance.

"Good evening, Hunter." John offers a welcome with a slight bow of his head. As I reach his side, I see the brown haired vampire with the wild curly hair, and Michael, standing behind her. I can't help giving him a smile. John places his arm around the vampire called Hunter. He looks at her, and smiles. "Shall we walk?"

They walk through the labyrinth, as if it's a regular Sunday afternoon stroll. Michael and I share a quick hug. We walk a distance behind them.

"They moved you. Are you okay?" Michael asks.

"Yes. I tried to escape, are you still in the same place?"

"Yeah, just let me out for a walk. Let's see what these cunning cats are up to now." He speaks in a barely audible whisper. Both vampires turn to look at us through narrowed eyes. It ends our conversation.

We make our way through a number of turns never reaching a dead end. Occasionally the sound of screams echo in the distance, at other times the sound of laughter. As though the two sounds are the same, the vampires don't flinch, or slow their pace at either sound.

I ask Michael how he's been, in honesty, he looks worse than the last time I saw him. He has lost weight. He was already too thin. His skin is bruised and grey. He is dressed in a thick woollen jumper, even thicker jacket. He has boots, gloves, and a beanie on, all in mismatched colours. His entire ensemble surprises me. The night air although cool feels far from cold. I am wearing a dress, black as usual, with long sleeves this time, and the same pair of boots I wore last night.

"I feel drained," he says. He doesn't need to say much more.

We reach the end of the labyrinth to find ourselves at an open field with a view to the lake. There are several targets, some already in use by other groups of vampires. The targets are set up in a row ahead of the lake. The two vampires stop at one of the targets to talk, as they prepare their bows and arrows. I try to listen to what they are saying, but can't make sense of it. They seem to be speaking in riddles, something about a 'new legion.' John seems different, when he is amongst his own kind.

"They can fly – or at least jump extremely long distances," I tell Michael in my quietest voice. "We're in Colorado."

"How do you know?" He replies in an equally quiet voice.

"He told me." My own comment makes me feel gullible. At least I know for sure, "I saw him fly." John shoots an arrow – it lands right in the centre of the target. He gives us a quick look as he turns to make way for Hunter to take her turn. I get a sudden urge to ask Michael if he may have seen James. I stop myself. I already know he hasn't. There is no point in asking anymore.

"Are you cold?" Michael says.

"No. It's not that cold tonight, not this again."

"Alice, don't drink his blood." His comment is simply imprudent. I'm sure they can hear us. I don't reply. "You don't know what it will do to you, it –" He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Instead, he falls to the ground screaming in pain. It takes a moment for me to realise what has happened, then I see the arrow wedged in Michael's leg. I fall to my knees trying to comfort him. The two vampires walk toward us. John replaces his bow on the sling. Hunter laughs, walking with arrow and bow still in hand. "You shot me," Michael yells at John.

"I did no such thing."

"Yes, you did – you –" His comment again cut short, this time by the pointed end of an arrow, held firmly against his neck.

"Quiet, you stupid animal, who do you think you are?" Hunter says. She kicks me aside. My back slams against the ground causing pain to rush through my body. She laughs as she takes a hold of the arrow wedged in Michael's leg – she wrenches the arrow out from his leg. "See, all fixed." Amused by her own cleverness she continues to laugh. Michael screams in pain, squirming on the ground. I sit up. Try to apply pressure to the wound. I can't get Michael to stay still long enough for it to be of use.

"Hunter that was of no help, he cannot stay here," John says. He looks over to a group of vampires across the field all now staring in our direction.

"Yes, I agree. He will need a vet." Her comment brings a smirk to John's face. His eyes stay fixed on the ground. He makes his way to where I sit. Once reaching me, he grabs a hold of my arm, lifting me to my feet. "Actually John, Ruby has asked to remind you about the dinner party tomorrow night."

"You can let Ruby know that I will do my best."

"John, it is important that you are present, you know how much Ruby enjoys the dinners. She would be more than disappointed if you did not attend."

"I understand, Hunter. Thank you for the concern."

She offers John a slight nod of her head. She lifts Michael over her shoulder, as though he is a piece of weightless material. He continues to squirm and scream. She gives John a final smile, turns, and walks back through the labyrinth. They disappear behind the perfectly tended hedging. John makes his way back over to the target.

"Do you like archery?" he asks, glancing behind him to see where I am.

"Did you shoot Michael?"

"It did not."

"Then who did?"

"I have no idea, Alice." He offers me the bow, and an arrow. I refuse. As if the incident with Michael never happened, he turns, casually continues to shoot at the target. I stand there, wiping Michael's blood from my hands.
Chapter 8

I try to forget the last time I heard music, but there is a band tonight, playing live rhythmic tunes in the black and white hall. I could almost smile. The simple pleasure of hearing sounds normally taken for granted. They sound sweeter when they are rare. Having the choice, I would have preferred to spend the night alone in my garden cell. The choice wasn't mine to make – so here we are attending _a vampire dinner party_.

"What an interesting pet," a female voice chimes at John. He turns to face a tall, blonde vampire with large, hazel eyes. Her pale skin is luminous against the crimson coloured gown and matching shiny, peep toe heels she wears. Groomed to perfection as they all are – her movements far removed from human. It sends a long, cold shiver running down the centre of my spine.

John doesn't reply. He gives her a small, fleeting smile.

We make our way past tables decorated with scattered red rose petals, and blood centrepieces, similar to ones normally reserved for chocolate. John walks ahead of me, as seems custom, when we are in the company of other vampires. He leaves me to trail behind him as his shadow, yet he had laid out the sheer, black dress on my bed while I slept. He brushed my hair once I was dressed. We pass Michael seated with Hunter. He avoids looking straight at me. I am happy to see he has made it through the night alive. Reaching the end of the hall, we take our seats opposite the band. Then, in a simple moment, everything changes, as if morning has broken on a dark night – seated opposite me, is James.

"You must not speak to it, and you must not touch it," commands a velvety female voice. It belongs to a vaguely familiar vampire seated next to James. She too is dressed in a gown only white, consisting of layers, the outermost layer trailing. There are patches of the same material sewn in giving an effect similar to feathers. Her long, dark red hair runs down her porcelain shoulders in ribbon ringlets. Her eyes are the palest shade of harlequin green.

James sits watching me with a quiet smile on his lips. The same smile that tells me he's feeling the same way that I do – overjoyed to see him, to be near him, to find him alive. I had given up hope of ever seeing him again. I had only just come to face the loss, now here he is. I want to know where he's been all this time, what things has he seen. I want to stand up, wrap my arms around him, and never let him go. I can barely believe he's alive – this couldn't have happened by chance. This has to be another vampire game. If we can't touch or even speak then I refuse to look away. I won't look away until his image imprints in my mind for good. The way the lighter blonde streaks in his hair seem white under these lights, how his eyes are the softest shade of pale blue, his lips a deep rose. He too is dressed in black.

The longest moments pass. Vampires drink warm, bloody drinks beside us. The red haired vampire with the velvet voice sips her drink particularly slow and intent, savouring the flavour. She watches each of us in turns.

"I put my money on the twins," says the tall blonde vampire we met earlier. She has come to take a seat beside John. "How are you all? It has been decades really," she points out with a long manicured finger. John exhales a short huff of a laugh.

"The man in brown with the wavy hair," he says. A quick movement of his arm, he pulls my chair closer to his body. Cold, marble fingers run down my back. The hall fills. Vampires dressed in colourful, formal garments, each with their human file through to sit around tables. They complete the black and white hall, as though flowers in a spring garden. The five-piece band plays, the male vocalist singing a melody in a foreign language. Last but definitely not least, child vampires take places around the centre table, led into the hall by the blue haired vampire. She has left her hound at home for the night. Giggles echo through the room as the last child vampires take their seats.

"That woman over there with the short black hair," says the red haired vampire. She finishes placing her bet just as a man begins to yell.

"Leave her alone. Get your hands off my wife." It's the yelling man from Michael's garden cell. He swings at the blood centrepiece. It goes crashing down the table, spraying blood at the faces near it. Before the last droplet of blood has hit the ground, the child vampires are up standing on tables and chairs, snarling – the likes of wild dogs. In a second, there are five of them latched on to different parts of the man, tearing him to the floor as they feed. The man's wife is screaming, screams that chill my blood. It doesn't last long. In a single movement, the vampire seated beside her, snaps her neck. Her limp body falls to the floor where the rest of the child vampires, now lurk in anticipation. Her murderous vampire turns away to continue his conversation with the vampire next to him, as if he's just swatted an insect,

I only noticed the band had stopped playing now that they've resumed to play. The majority of the crowded room having been standing starts to retake their seats. I'm standing next to James, inches apart, not touching. I can feel the warmth of his body.

"You have a keen eye John, curly locks falls," says the red haired vampire.

"And his wife, two birds with one stone, fabulous," says the blonde vampire. One by one, they take their seats. I can't make myself move. James still stands beside me. I can hear him breathe. We're the last ones standing.

I wasn't the one told not to speak. I could tell him how I feel. Say the words I never got the chance to say before. There's no time for long discussions. I lean in, whisper into his ear, "Live." I hope he understands. We need to do whatever it takes to stay alive. Given enough time, I am sure we will find our way through this – we can deal with whatever we need to deal with then.

"Which one speaks?" says the blue haired vampire, now standing beside us. She circles around us, child vampires crawling at her feet. She may have left her vampiric dog at home, but she didn't forget her whip. She lashes at James, lashes him again. "Which one speaks?"

"It was me," I say, as she goes in for one more hit. She comes to smile the broadest of smiles into my face.

"She was not made aware of the rules," John says.

"They are not permitted to speak, you are aware of the rules. If you wanted for her not to be punished, you should have advised her to keep quiet."

"It was one word. It will be her last."

"Yet, it is too late. She will be made an example." She taps her whip on the table, turns to look across the hall toward the yellow-eyed vampire, the one from the night of the dogfight. The yellow-eyed vampire gives her a slight nod of her head in return. The blue haired vampire turns to face me – her kick to my stomach is fast, I'm unsure if it happened, but I'm on the floor, and then she begins to whip. I shield my face with my hands, she doesn't stop lashing at my back, arms, and legs. She lashes at my head. Each one of her lashes cutting away at my skin. From between my hands, I see James' devastated face, surrounded by child vampires. They wait for him to protest. They keep him silent.

"Enough," John says, taking a hold of the whip. A droplet of blood runs down the palm of his hand. The blue haired vampire retakes control of her whip, revealing a cut across the palm of John's hand. The sight makes the blue haired vampire smirk. She walks back to her seat, glancing our way every now and then. The child vampires mimic her as they follow closely behind her.

John picks me up in his arms.

"Are we done now, Ruby?" he says. He is talking to the red haired vampire. He doesn't wait for her to reply – I watch James as he watches me being carried me out of the hall. The sound of the band playing creeps after us as if an invisible, floating mist, stalking behind us. He carries me through corridors lined with gold-dusted walls, a maze of red carpet, and countless doors. We reach a room where a male vampire stands roaring with laughter. Scattered humans and vampires lie on large floor cushions. John takes a seat on one of the cushions with me still in his arms.

"Let me see," he says. He is trying to see the cuts on my back. He looks over the rest. I can see exposed deeper layers of flesh. "You have to feed, Alice."

The laughing vampire is clapping his hands. He rolls back onto a cushion containing another male vampire, who eagerly welcomes his company. As I feed from the cut on John's neck, a female vampire walks a man on a short leash down the corridor. She sneers when she looks my way.
Chapter 9

The sun is beginning to rise. The sky has turned a beautiful shade of electric blue. I stand in the enclosed garden with my arms out stretched, face up at the sky, catching raindrops with my mouth. John left in a hurry. I can hear muffled arguing in the corridor. We left through the gate for the dinner, returned through the internal door.

If I run he will catch me, at the least find me eventually. I feel an incredible urge to scream at the top of my lungs. Before I realise deciding, I am running through the open gate. I reach the forest, barely slowing my pace. For a brief moment, a smile brushes over my face, but there are many trees. It's hard to navigate through them without stumbling. I keep running. I only need to keep moving until daylight. There will be time later to think on what has happened, and what to do next.

Guilt gnaws at my resolve. I've just found James, now I'm leaving without him. The violence I've seen pushes me forward.

The forest is thick, filled with the sounds of animals that go quiet as I stumble through it. Their countless eyes watch my every move. I keep running without a backward glance. I'm amazed at the distance I've made by the time the sun has risen. I finally stop to look back as the sky burns golden. The mansion is long out of view.

If I keep moving, only stop to take look outs at higher points, I should be able to find my way out of the forest before dark. Then, I can call for help. I imagine explaining how flying vampires kidnapped us, how I was taken to a mansion to be shown butterflies, and let out for visits to New Orleans.

A raven lands heavily in the branches above me. I start to search for water.

The day is growing brighter fast, and with the rain starting to cease, humidity is taking over. It seems an incredibly warm day for the middle of winter. There are melting patches of snow left in various corners. I shuffle handfuls into my mouth, trying to kill off my thirst – thoughts of John creep through my mind, make me feel as though he's still by my side. It's only his blood. It still runs through my veins, as if a drug, clouding my thoughts, playing games with my emotions. There's a part of me craving more, wanting his blood one more time, wanting to see him one last time – I push myself forward. Alternating between running and walking, I make my way through the forest, doing my best to focus my mind on one thought, finding a way out.

At times, it gets hard to keep moving. I don't stop until I've reached a clearing that opens up to a cliff. As I make my way to the edge, my heart starts to sink. There is nothing but more forest and mountains. It would be pointless heading toward the mountains. They seem more remote than where I am. I turn back, walk in the opposite direction, deeper into forest. This forest must end somewhere. That somewhere needs to come before dark. I'm sure there will be a search at dusk.

The thought makes me run.

After what must be hours, I reach an area amid large trees with golden leaves. The muscles in my legs ache. I need to rest, find water, and take another higher point lookout. The events of the last few days run through my mind as I try to catch my breath. The dark red hair at the back of the crowd of vampires, in the hall when I fought the dog, the same type as the female seated at the bar in New Orleans. He wasn't meeting the singer but her, it was the same vampire seated by James. "Ruby has asked," I recall Hunter reminding John to attend the dinner. "Are we done now, Ruby?" he had said to the red haired vampire. Her velvety voice calling out in the hall, "I will second." The game had started the instant she made that comment. I'm sure she's the reason I needed to be in New Orleans.

John's intentions are not entirely clear.

He seems capable of benevolence when the others can't. There is another side to him, a side I'm sure would shoot an arrow at Michael to keep him from telling me things. Although, when I am hurt, he always heals me. I wouldn't have made it this far without him. I want to know what he wants with me. Am I his pet, is this part of a game where in the end he takes my life, or does he plan to change it forever? I can't take staying still any longer – none of this matters.

As the day goes on, it gets hotter, making it harder to keep running. Flashes of desperate faces invade my mind. These images push my legs forward. I miss my family, and friends. I want to go back to the normality of my life. I can't stop seeing the faces, the reminders of all that has changed – the waitress pleading for my help, the man from the garden cell and his wife, not to mention Michael and James.

James – he's alive. I can't believe it. He's alive. I fall landing on my knees, for a moment, I close my eyes against the sun. It warms my face, reminds me of him. The man I married, the same man I've abandoned. I get up and start running. I need to find a high point to have a better look for which direction I should be heading. There has to be someone, somewhere out here that can help us. I decide to climb a tree, and start looking for one that is easiest, but still tall enough to see over most of the surrounding trees. I see one that I think will do, and start heading in that direction. Thinking back on my last climbing attempt, I know this can't be the brightest idea, but I could be running in circles. I need to get up high to assess which direction I should be heading.

I start climbing. The branches are thick, and easily hold my weight. I continue without looking down until I am high enough to see over most of the trees – the forest is enormous. I look in all directions for buildings. There is nothing except more trees. The sun has moved to the other side of the sky, there can only be a few hours of daylight left. I'm nowhere near civilisation. I see a river nearby, start climbing down. I've found my direction. I climb down without coming anywhere near falling, start running as soon as I've hit the ground. I need to reach the river, not only will I then have fresh water to drink, but I can also follow the stream. I remember seeing advice of this kind on television. It should lead me to people; we tend to gravitate toward water. The sky is almost dark, the forest covered in shadows by the time I've reached the clearing at the river. They will be waking soon.

I need to decide whether to keep running or find somewhere to hide. If I hide, then I have to consider how keen their senses are. Will they see through my makeshift hideout, will their sense of smell give me away? If I keep running will I bring them to me with the noise I'd make, can I keep moving in the dark? It's getting hard enough to see where I am now. Hide, it's my best option. Hide and hope I'm lucky enough not to fall in their path. I can follow the stream, looking for a hideout along the way.

I take a seat by the river, and start drinking from the clear, cool water. About to get up to start my search for shelter, I see a moose standing by the river's edge, also drinking water. I've never seen one before, other than on television. It really is an amazing creature when seen from up close. It notices me staring, stops drinking to raise its head and stare back at me. I hear something move behind me – the moose, bolts through the forest.
Chapter 10

His hair reminds me of snow, the white-blonde haired vampire. He stands motionless in the centre of the clearing, the tips of his long hair wisping with the breeze. He's wearing the same old clothes he was wearing the night of the boat attack. I don't stand in case this causes him to move. I sit there on my knees wishing he would just disappear. We stay watching each other for the longest time.

"Are you lost, little one?" I blinked, now we're face to face, inches apart. The words roll off his tongue in a French accent. His eyes barely contain his amusement. "The way home is in the other direction."

Darkness is blanketing the forest. There is no hope of escape. I can only chance the possibility of trying to somehow outwit him, that is, if I can bring myself to speak. He takes a strand of my hair, runs it through his fingers, smelling it as he goes. It brings a smile to his lips.

"Mmm – merciful warrior." I have no idea what he means.

"I'll go back," I say, trying to get to my feet.

"No need to rush. I do not mind the company. Besides, I am sure you have companions. They should not be far, I would think." He stands, begins collecting dry branches and leaves. He piles them in a spot on the ground. He watches me with a smile that exposes his teeth. "What name do you go by?"

"Alice."

"Alice. Why do you seem familiar, have we not met before?"

"I don't remember." I actually don't care to share in his happy memories of the worst night of my life. He breaks down branches from nearby trees, piles them on the heap he has collected. He sprays a liquid from a small, metal canister before setting the pile alight with a match – the flames light up the entire clearing.

"Come, Alice." He takes his jacket off, places it on the ground near the fire. "My name is Bastian Leroy," he says taking a hold of my hand. I try to pull my hand away, but it's no use. He motions with his other hand for me to sit. The flames of the fire lick at the sky above. He grins at me in the essence of a child marvelling with a new toy. We sit. I watch him unable to think of a single word to say. It seems to amuse him further. "What do you see when you look at me, Alice?"

"I don't know – a vampire – a killer," the last two words slip out of my mouth. He laughs aloud.

"It is not at all surprising. I am well accustomed to the tapered human acuity."

"How else am I meant to see you when I am human and you a vampire, who happens to feed on humans?"

"Do you always speak whatever comes to mind? It is quite amusing really."

"Am I here for your amusement?"

"Alice, it could be worse. I could just be playing with my food." He laughs again only this time his laughter drips of deride. It reminds me of my place in this scene. "Let me tell you how I see you, Alice. I see no less a killer than me."

His comment stops my breath midway. I did kill a vampiric dog, but that was in self-defence. He doesn't need to know. "I've never killed anyone in my life."

"My sweet, pretty Alice, do you not feed on lives, nothing that once breathed?" The glare of the fire reflects in his eyes, the way it does in nocturnal animals. He moves his face in closer to mine, still smiling a toothy grin. "All living creatures feel fear and pain, not only humans, Alice. Regardless of human or not, it is still a kill."

"I understand, but it isn't the same."

"How is it acceptable that humans kill all creatures that share this planet, yet you judge our methods, brand us killers for feeding on only one kind of animal?"

"You're talking about humans. I think that makes it a little different."

"Humans are animals Alice, mammals to be precise. You are the only animal that kills, and feeds on every other animal alive. Not only do you kill for food, you kill for sport, for trophies, for things such as potions to improve the adventures one has in bed. You like to believe you are above all else, somehow different, and yes, you are different – only, it is because you are the worst thing to ever happen to this planet." He stops talking, looks over the long nails on his left hand. "It will not be long – balance will return to the world soon enough."

"What do you mean balance?"

"The world is suffocating under the smog humans have created. Animals perish, the forests lost, our seas poisoned, but there is a means to save all creatures, save the planet itself. There is a better keeper of this world – one more deserving than you."

"You mean vampires."

"Yes."

Silence – I can hear myself breathe. Is he insane or does he actually have the power to wage a war against humanity? "What do you plan to do?"

"Most humans will perish of course, some will serve a purpose."

"With weapons of mass destruction – how can you possibly win this war?"

"We have means, Alice. This was not a decision made one morning upon waking. It has been long planned. We have many humans who share our view of the future, a view for a better world. Humans whom control these weapons you speak of."

"Why would any human help you to murder everyone else?"

"Humans murder humans every day, Alice. Besides, you are simple creatures whom care mostly for the few you love, much more so than for the many you do not know. It makes for easy persuasion."

"I should go back before it's too dark to see." I can't believe what I'm hearing. I need to get away from him. My comment only makes him laugh louder. His amusement is infuriating – I want to punch him in the nose.

"Please, we have only just started to talk. There is much to share. Tell me more about how you see things, Alice. Tell me, how is my good friend, John?"

"How do you know about John?"

"I have my ways."

"Can you tell me why I was brought to the house, what does he want with me?"

"I would say that these are questions for John." He brushes his hand across my forehead, moving aside a loose strand of hair. He moves his hand across to my chin. Holding my head still, he examines my face. It reminds me of John.

"There are billions of humans. We will fight you."

"We have an army of millions – it is all we need to be everywhere." His comment throws me of guard. It's hard to believe there are this many when only a few days ago, I had no idea of them ever existing.

"Do all vampires think like you?"

"We are united, but enough talk of war. Tell me about you, Alice. What do you care for, what do you love?"

"I loved my life the way it was. I loved the world I lived in, and everyone in it. I loved my husband. You destroyed everything the second you landed on that boat."

"What happened to him?"

"What?"

"The husband – you said that you loved him."

"I mean love. I love him still. Do you realise not everyone is bad, there is good out there. You generalise, group everyone as the same. What will happen to the ones who don't deserve this?"

"Every human has played their part in creating the cruel world you live in, whether directly or through ignorance. Every one of you will receive what you collectively deserve. I warned you, enough talk of war – it has made me somewhat thirsty." He licks his lips, moves in closer. I try to stand, but he has a grip on my arms. I can't break free. Before long, my back is against the ground. I feel his breath on my neck, his lips against my skin. I brace myself, waiting for what's to come. I can't change a thing. "Do you hear that, Alice? Nothing – no one comes to claim you."
Chapter 11

"Bastian, we will not trouble you further, she is with me." John's words sound the end of Bastian's plan. He appears by my side, takes a hold of my arm, lifting me to my feet. I don't think I've ever been this happy to see a vampire, as I am to see him.

"No trouble John. Yes, I am aware she is with you. She seems to have travelled far from home though. Might she choose not to go back, it may be that she would like to stay? What do you say, Alice?"

"I want to stay." The words force their way through my lips. Bastian laughs aloud. "I mean no. I don't want to stay."

"Bastian – leave her."

"Why John, do you not find it amusing, she is quite entertaining really. We have had a lovely time talking – getting to know one other. It is quite sad our time was cut short. Did you not have fun, Alice?"

"Yes, it was nice. I mean – what is –"

"Bastian please, we are leaving. There is not long of the night left. We need to make our way back to the house. I will see you again, my friend." John picks me up in his arms, starts carrying me back through the forest. Bastian calls out to us in French.

"What's he saying?" I ask.

"I do not speak French, Alice. You have travelled far. You were much faster than I expected. I was taken by surprise."

"You must be joking. Can you put me down – I can walk on my own, you know." He lets me down with a smile. "I don't understand what happened back there. It was as if he could control my mind. Is this something that you can do, something you've done to me before?"

"It is not control as much a type of influence. Some are better than others are. We can all do it, all vampires. No – I have not done this to you."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You make each decision as you see fit, Alice. Is that not obvious?"

"Not obvious enough." We continue with him quietly leading the way, back toward the mansion, using a different path than the one I took leaving it. Bastian's words spin circles in my head. 'Every human has played their part in creating the cruel world we live in.' Now collectively, they will destroy us. I know the world is less than perfect, but we are evolving. It's not fair to take this away from us, especially in the way that he plans. When I think of all the bloodshed that would come of such a war, everyone that would die, including the ones closest to me, tears start to pool in my eyes. "Do you know what Bastian told me, he said that a war is coming, that you will fight against the humans, is this true?"

"Do not worry about what Bastian says."

"But, I do. So tell me, is it true?"

"Yes. It is true."

"Is this what you all want?"

"Yes Alice, it is the only way – I will protect you."

"Why would you?" He stops walking, stares at me, as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't. "Will you protect everyone I care for?" Again, he says nothing, instead he moves in closer, still staring me down with those eyes. His proximity is intoxicating. I feel myself losing control. He lingers seemingly enjoying the effect he has having on me. I want to break away. I can't make my legs move. He takes his time – draws my body in, his face into mine. After a moment, we kiss. I know I should pull away, but there's a side of me wanting to stay, a side that also wants to drink. I finally find my voice, "Stop – please."

He lets go of me, takes a hold of my hand. We walk in silence – I feel myself falling off a mental edge. The forest is quiet as we move through it. We reach an area dense with the same trees I saw earlier in the day, the ones with the golden leaves. Dry leaves crumble beneath my feet. All I can think of is how much I want to drink.

"We can stop if you need to feed," he says.

"Can you read my mind?"

"I can sense how you feel." I want to say no, but I say nothing. There is movement in the branches above us, more golden leaves fall around us. He takes my hand, pulling me down to the ground with him. He uses his nail to make a small cut along his neck. We feed, and it fades the confusion. There was a thought I wanted to keep, but it is lost. The rest of the walk passes quickly. For parts, he carries me. He moves faster than I'm capable of ever moving. At other times, we walk hand in hand, and the forest reminds me of fairy tales. Animals peer from behind branches. The moon is full, shining its wondrous light on all of us. Not a breeze flows through the trees, the night is still and surrounded by stars. It is quiet – I want to sing just to make a sound.

We reach the lake. The water sparkles as if dusted with silver. I can see the mansion across the opposite side, for the first time, in all its glory. It is reminiscent of a French chateau, surrounded by the labyrinth. There are rendered sections in a light shade of orange, in parts, it is brick and stone. Lights behind its tall windows are still on. It reminds me of being inside on a cold, rainy day. It reminds me of home.

"Why do you want this war?"

"To change the direction of the world – would you care to join me for a swim?"

"Are you serious?"

"Come, it will not be cold." He starts to take off his shoes, then his shirt. I can't help being momentarily distracted. We end up leaving most of our clothes, scattered around the lake's edge, before diving into the water. Taking dips through its quiet darkness, we make our way across the lake.

"Why does Bastian dress that way?"

"We wear what we like. Some enjoy the colours of their era. There are no demands on how we should or should not dress, or what we can and cannot do for that matter. We are free to do as we please."

"You seem from the same era. Didn't the French and English hate each other during that time?"

"Yes. At least the humans did. It is different for us."

"How?"

"We care not for the things that you do."

"You are from that era."

"Yes – I have existed for four hundred years."

"I can't even imagine it – do you want to know how old I am?"

"Age is a human concern, Alice. It means nothing to us." We reach the other side of the lake, and climb the bank. Ringing the water from our hair, we laugh at the look of each other. It's strange to see him this way.

"I can't believe how warm the water was. I swear I saw ice."

"Well, it is winter." He seems distracted by the sky. The sun is peaking over the horizon, turning it golden in parts, colouring the clouds nearby, different shades magenta. The snow on the mountains reflects an orange colour.

"It will be morning soon," I say.

"Yes, it will."

"Do you miss the day?"

"Not really – just the sun at times." He smiles. I know now, he was human once.

"It took such a long time to get away, now I'm back at the start."

"I am sorry, Alice. I cannot let you leave."

"I understand."
Chapter 12

The day has been slept away, yet again. Although at times I'd slightly wake, for the most part, I slept the deepest, dreamless sleep. I woke to find John seated by my bed, as I found him last night, and the night before.

Days roll into each other now creating an endless night.

We spend most of our time in the forest, drifting through the space it provides. We take swims in the lake every night. John insists on teaching me archery, and an assortment ways to use an assortment of weapons. He says it's to pass the time – there's more reason than that. There is a war coming. I will need to learn to defend myself. It seems I've given into a forced destiny. This isn't true. It is a way to keep moving forward in a world that's soon to change.

John talks about the way they see the world, a different perspective than the human one. I saw us as the victims, but in their eyes, we're just the opposite. He talks about how much of the planet we've destroyed, how many animals suffer each day at our hands, not to mention the human suffering that we either cause or choose instead to ignore. They see us similar to a plague of lotus, destroying everything in our path.

They do relish in manmade luxuries, as is obvious in every room that I've seen, from the art on the walls, to the carpets beneath our feet. Still, they are just as pleased when surrounded by austere nature. They couldn't care less for monetary gain or the losses that will come as an aftermath of such a war. They have a respect for the planet that I've never seen before, a refusal to harm any living thing even plants, anything that is, but humans.

I haven't seen James since the dinner. He crosses my mind, causes confusion. John washes clear this confusion each night with his blood. My skin has started to pale. My scars are slowly fading. I haven't seen a mirror since I last saw the Florida sun, but I know I'm still human. John's skin is seamless, much more than mine is. He can see and hear things that I can only imagine. The daylight bothers him more than it bothers me, and unlike him, I don't crave human blood. He tells me it's complicated, that although I feed on his blood every night, that I hunger for it, he says I will not turn.

There are changes that I like. I like how there are more colours in the sky at night, and I can see more of the universe that surrounds us. I like that there are more blades of grass along the ground, and that I now have far less sentiment to deal with. John tells me Michael is still alive. I wonder if he still refuses to feed, or if Hunter cares for him any less than she already did. I'd like the chance to speak to him again, but I haven't seen anyone other than John, and in a way, I am glad. It is simpler this way.

I have a number of black dresses, and black shoes. John gives me gifts, such as the diamond and ruby knife he says I earned that first night in the hall. It offers a sense of security, having a weapon of my own, however false that idea may be. I keep the knife in an embroidered sheath he also gave me that can clip around one's thigh.

He hasn't kissed me since the night in the forest. He could control me if he wanted. His presence has become a source of comfort for me. He is a part of my world – the one I live in now.

"Come," he says, reaching out for my hand. I get up to get dressed.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"It is a surprise."

"Do I have to see anyone?"

"No."

"Will we be going for a swim?"

"No."

"Are we going to the forest?"

"No, Alice."

"Then I will wear this one." I take out a knee length dress with buttons down the front, and a belt around the waist. John brushes my hair. We leave through the external gate, keep to the maintained grounds; make our way around the house.

"There will be a party tomorrow night. We are required to attend."

"Will it be as much fun as the last one?"

"It will not be the same as the dinner, Alice. There will be no games – this gathering is held for other reasons."

"What reasons?"

"Bastian brings news. He and his wife have arranged the gathering."

"Bastian has a wife."

"Her name is Sadie. She is the vampire that presided over that first night in the hall. Do you know who I mean?"

"You mean the one with the yellow eyes. Yes, we are such good friends." John laughs as he takes my hand. He guides me in toward the house in the direction of an iron door. He pushes the door. It creeks open to reveal a long, concrete staircase. For the first time in a long while – I feel a pinch of fear. "What's down there?"

"It is a surprise. You have nothing to fear." After closing the iron door behind us, he leads me down the staircase. The lights are dim. The stairs cast shadows on each other as they curve around, down a seemingly endless slope. We reach a corridor with another iron door at the end. "Remember, you have nothing to fear," he says, and then he opens the door to a barren, concrete room. It is darker than the staircase. Pieces of wood barricade the windows from the inside. My eyes take time to adjust. My hearing is quick. I hear panting, growls, and other animal noises, including the tap of footsteps coming from behind. "They are only curious. They will not harm you."

"What are they?"

He points toward one of the lighter corners of the room past concrete pillars. My eyes focus adjusting to the darkness, and then I see them. Crawling in the shadows – they are everywhere; shiny skin reflecting against the shallow light, red eyes flickering as if a thousand little lights.

"They are our companions. These are only young."

"I thought the dogs were turned."

"They are born. We have bred them since the Ancients. They mature quickly, within weeks. They live long adult lives." He turns to look at me. "This is a way to replace the negative energy caused by killing one, Alice."

"That happened in self-defence."

"None the less, it is a positive way to move forward."

We make our way to the far corner, where a litter of hairless puppies play. Most of them don't pay us any attention, but one. It has been watching us make our way, with spark of curiosity in its bright, red eyes. As we get closer to the puppies, the one with the curious eyes leaps forward running on wobbly legs straight for my feet. It leaps in, starts chewing at the soles of my boots. I lift a foot up away from it, but this only makes it leap up to wrestle my foot back down to the floor.

"Great, I get a little hellhound of my own," I say. John laughs. "What am I meant to do with it? The last thing I need is to care for a pet."

"He will care for himself. He will protect you, you will see. You need him more than he needs you." He picks up the blue-skinned puppy in his arms. He starts back toward the door. We make our way through the room of hounds back up the staircase with the puppy in John's arms. He lets it down on the lawn once we reach the top. The puppy rolls around on the ground, fascinated with the feel of the grass. "Let us take a walk." We make our way toward the labyrinth. "What will you call him?"

"Phoenix. The name just came to me." John nods his head as Phoenix follows, chasing after our feet.

The night passes unhurriedly. We walk the length of the labyrinth without finding a single dead end. I don't believe this labyrinth has any dead ends at all. John tells of ancient vampire legends, of them hunting with their hounds in the nights before humans had discovered fire. He says they lived side by side with humans in the early days as either gods or demons. In Egypt, they taught the masses to see the sacredness of animals, in Sumer, it was history, and to the Mayan people teachings of an endless universe. There would always be unrest and wars, violence fuelled by the human need to acquire wealth in the forms of riches, lands, and power over others. In the end each civilisation fell. Many of his kind were lost in the process. They retreated to the shadows to live apart, unhindered by human need.

We turn a corner reaching the inner belly of the labyrinth. It is an overflowing garden with flowers in every colour. I could smell the sweet scent, but still didn't expect the magnitude assembled here.

"How do they grow in the snow?"

"Chimonanthus, winter plants – breeds capable of growing in these temperatures. Some are thought instinct by humans."

"It is beautiful." I move in to take a closer look. Climbing vines line the inner hedging walls, peppered with small white flowers. They have red inner petals. I run my hand through them as I pass, feel John follow behind me. Multi-coloured flowers cover the ground, giving off a scent that is hard to resist. I take a seat on the ground surrounded by flowers – John joins me. Phoenix tackles flowers to chew as gum.

"Do you like it?" he asks, looking around us.

"Yes." He stares at me as he sometimes does. He brushes aside my hair to trail the back of his hand down my neck, moves in closer with a small smile on his lips. I've grown used to having him near, feeling his breath on my skin. He lingers by my neck – as painless as a soft kiss, his teeth break through the flesh. He feeds with a hand resting on my thigh. The other hand holds my body close to his. He plays out a familiar prelude to our nightly quest for blood. I fall into the abyss. I do it willingly.
Chapter 13

It is the most beautiful dress, long and trailing, strapless and ruffled, with a thin, black ribbon belt that ties in a small bow at the back. The material is the softest silk. It came with matching ribboned heels. I place the black, feathered eye mask on my face as John ties the lace at the back. When he is done, I turn to face him.

"You are beautiful," he says. He is wearing a suit in the darkest shade of blue, and a pale blue shirt. He has a mask with a mixture of feathers in both shades of blue.

"I can wait for you here."

"Our attendance is required." He leaves me no choice – having already fed, we leave. We walk the internal corridors sharing barely a word. Pass a child vampire along the way. She is a sweet girl with pink bows in a bundle of golden curls. She offers a puerile smile, exposing her sharp, little teeth.

"Do the children stay as they are?" I ask, as she moves out of sight.

"She will be a child forever."

The rooftop terrace will hold tonight's vampire masquerade. We make our way up several flights of floral carpeted stairs to reach the terrace. On black wooden floors, more than a hundred perfectly presented vampires in masks stand. There are scattered humans dressed in black suits and dresses, blips on a canvas of colour. An assembly of vampires play African drums. I take a deep breath, contented to have John lead the way. The first person I recognise is the muscular man from the dungeon. He is easy to distinguish simply due to his size. John talks to various vampires as we make our way to a table lined with crystal wine glasses, filled to the rim with blood. I look for James as we move through the room, or a glimpse of those dark red curls. They're nowhere. Michael isn't here either.

"Bastian is on route. We can leave once he speaks," John whispers.

"My, my, my, if it is not John, our dear friend. I thought there might have been a chance you had left our estate. We have not seen you in recent nights," says Sadie, the yellow-eyed vampire. The tall, bald vampire with the wooden walking stick accompanies her. He towers over the rest of us, dominating just in his presence, as though an ancient god. In my mind's eye, I picture him slamming down with the wooden walking stick, causing lightening to tear down from above.

"Sadie, my apologies, I have been busy of late." John kisses her white, gloved hand.

"Bastian tells me you have been quite occupied. Still, I hope there is time to think on other things, these are exciting days for us."

"There is always time."

"I should tell you the initiation is complete. I will leave it to Bastian to speak further, when he arrives. It is good news."

"I am pleased to hear."

"She is a pretty thing, do you not agree Marcus – such a pretty, black feathered swan." She turns to smile at the tall, bald vampire, who returns her smile with a sinister smile of his own. She then directs her attention back to me, although speaking to John. "You always make such endearing selections, John." Her glare leaves me cold. I'm sure she could drain the blood from a person just through her stare – the corner of her lip curves into a satisfied smile. I turn away; need to focus my attention on something else. A female vampire makes her way up the staircase. A man trails behind her. She guides the man to a room across from the main area, closes the door behind him, before joining the rest of the socialising vampires.

"We were heading for the terrace. I was going to show Alice the view. Sadie, would you care to join us?"

"Please, go ahead without us. We must keep moving – you know how it is." John gives her a small bow. "Come Alice," and with a wave of his hand we start toward the terrace. He slows, turns to face me. "She is only playing, Alice. Do not take it to heart." We continue our walk to the terrace. Occasionally he offers a slight nod to passing vampires along the way, including the tall, blonde vampire with the large hazel eyes, who laughs as I pass by. John continues to walk without looking back, and it bothers me. He pushes through the glass terrace doors – the cool air affords such a relief, a perfect overture to a view that is no less than amazing. For a moment, I forget where we are. It is a cloudless night with the Milky Way sprawling out to infinity. It makes the vast range of mountains seem small, my annoyances smaller still. "You are not part of a collection," is all he says.

It goes on to be the longest of nights. I watch more humans escorted into the closed room, listen to vampires make small talk as if human. All the while, the thudding of the drums pounds away at my chest, making it hard to breathe at times. It's as though it will never end, until Bastian finally arrives.

He charges up the stairs with a team of vampires. They are dressed in dark, fitted clothes lined with metal plates that create a casing of full body armour. They are carrying swords. The energy in the room changes in an instant. Bastian walks up to stand on the slightly elevated platform, where the drum beating vampires stand silent. The room is soundless. He begins to speak, his voice echoes, bouncing off the walls.

"For centuries we have talked. For centuries, we have communed in houses such as these. Watching from afar, watching as humans have destroyed the last of the great forests, contaminated the waters and the skies, and murdered everything in their path. They have occupied all the land on this earth and with this they have left no room, not for us, not for anyone." He stops, looks across the room, as though looking at each one of us in turn. "From tonight, there will be no more talk. From tonight, there will be no further deliberation. Tonight, we have our war." Outbursts of cheers erupt from various corners of the room. He continues in a louder voice. "Our forces have conquered several countries overnight, in the coming weeks, one by one, the rest will fall. Now drink with me, celebrate our success. Out of tomorrow, the new world will be born." The vampires cheer with raised glasses of blood. Others hold clenched fists in the air. Bastian walks through the crowd. Each vampire touches his back or his arms in a show of support. They gather to speak to him and his wife.

"I will be back," John says, leaving me standing by the terrace doors. Again, I struggle with the consequences of Bastian's words. I thought I had come to terms with this war. I know I haven't.

"Tomorrow sounds like a big day. I'll be getting up early – don't want to be left behind," says the muscular man from the dungeon. He quickly walks away. I'm unsure if he meant to speak to me, or merely to himself. The pounding of the drums resumes. Vampires preoccupied, stand in circles of enthusiastic discussions. I can see John standing with Bastian across the other side. Another person is chaperoned into the room. I wait for the vampire to join the others, before making my way there.
Chapter 14

I turn the handle, the door clicks open, and as it does, I hear scattering on the other side. I open the door, slide in pushing it closed behind me. Strangers seated on white lounges stare back at me, in what is a dull, tiled room. The only noise coming from a television mounted on one of the walls. I see Michael, and take off my mask.

"Alice, what's going on?" he says.

"I was watching everyone being brought into this room. I wanted to see –"

"That's not what I meant. The door only opens from the outside. You might as well get comfortable."

"You could have told me that before I closed the door."

"I didn't exactly get the chance." I walk over to where Michael sits sharing one of the lounges with another man. The man leaves his spot as soon as I take a seat beside him – I notice the scene playing out on the television screen. There is a female reporter standing in front of what looks to be the Colosseum in Rome. There are nowhere near as many crowds as you would expect to see in the middle of the day. Most of them are children. Writing at the bottom of the screen, relays facts about the incidents that happened overnight.

"There has never been a terrorist attack of this magnitude in history. Attacks on several countries have occurred overnight affecting the majority located in Europe. The number of lives lost is unconfirmed. Sources are placing the figure at close to five hundred million. No terrorist organisation has claimed responsibility for the attacks –" The reporter goes on. Images flash across the screen of night skies alight with burning buildings through night vision lenses.

The screen changes to an image of a wall sprayed with graffiti alongside burning buildings. They have located the same graffiti in all the countries that sustained attacks. It reads, 'New World Legion.'

I jump to my feet. "It's the vampires. They've started a war."

"What do you know, Alice?"

"I know Bastian. He's their leader or something. He just came in and announced the war. I remember John and Hunter talking about a new legion at the archery targets." I cringe at the thought of Michael shot in the leg. "Are you okay, has it healed?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"We've got to do something."

"What do you want us to do, Alice?"

"What do you care anyway?" says a woman standing by the television. "You've made yourself comfortable where you are."

"I'm trying to stay alive, it doesn't mean I don't care – we need to find a way out, it's not going to end with these countries."

"We think we might –" Michael stops talking when he sees some of the other people shaking their heads.

"What?" I ask, but he doesn't answer. It leaves a cold silence to fill the room. I retake my seat by Michael. "Have you seen James?"

"Yes," he says with a smile that makes me smile, for once a different answer. "He was taken to New Orleans. They're usually back by morning."

Everyone's attention seems to shift at the same time. The news on the television has turned to national stories. The narration on the bottom continues – they haven't found a single terrorist's body, not one. They only have amateur, blurred footage of the attackers, taken by frightened people on mobile phones. I stop reading when I realise who the couple on the screen are. It brings a smile to my face.

"I remember them," I say to Michael. He nods his head. It's the elderly couple James and I helped get on the boat, the ones with the silvery hair. I can't believe they're alive. They're holding hands the same way I remember them holding hands on the boat. The search for our bodies has ended. They have presumed we are dead, lost at sea forever. They will be holding a memorial tomorrow.

Everything seems to be happening tomorrow.

"Where are they keeping you?" Michael asks.

"I'm in a cell near the entrance of the labyrinth. What about you?"

"Same place, we haven't moved."

"I saw the muscular man from the dungeon, he's outside."

"Nathan – they moved him a few days ago to the cell you originally had."

"He said the strangest thing –"

"We're all starting to say strange things, Alice." I feel a sudden sadness for him. He looks tired, much worse than the last time I saw him. I pull him in for a hug. I don't care if he hugs me back, but he does, my only friend in this house.

We watch images of the damaged cities flash across the screen, the same repeated shots of the night fires burning. Another reporter details the relief effort; they are sending soldiers to protect the survivors, shelters are being organised. Animal welfare organisations are sending volunteers to assist the animals, and experts are flying in from around the world to contain the nuclear power stations.

"They're mad, they're going to get themselves killed," says a man with a beard.

"They won't kill them," I say.

"Why's that?"

"They're serving a purpose, just as Bastian planned."
Chapter 15

John collected me from the white tiled room, without a word. He always finds me. He escorted me back to my room. We fed for the second time in one night. I try to count the number of times I've had his blood, but fall to sleep at the count of nine – the sound of someone yelling my name startles me to wake.

It's daylight. I can see the sun peaking in through the blinds. I jump out of the bed sending Phoenix tumbling to the floor. A quick pat on his head, I walk to the blinds, and open them. Phoenix howls at the light coming in through the doors. He makes for his bed in the bathroom, the one I made out of one of my blankets. He prefers to sleep in my bed. I hear someone yell out my name again, and run out into the garden, sidestepping scattered loose pebbles. I head for the gate.

"I'm over here," I yell.

"Alice." It's James. I reach out to him through the gaps between the bars. He sees me, rushes in, weaving his arms through to hug me. He kisses me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. How did you get out?"

"Nathan, give him the right tools, he can break out of anywhere." He looks around, sees Nathan, and waves him down. "We're over here." Nathan starts heading in our direction, followed by a group of nine, including Michael. "We're getting you out."

"I need my shoes." I run back into the room, heading straight for the wardrobe for my long sleeved dress, and pair of boots. I collect the knife; clip the sheath around my thigh. Phoenix sits at the bathroom door. I try to coax him to come outside with me. He refuses to budge. I give him a kiss on the top of his head. I can't take him where I'm going anyway. "Stay Phoenix, you're a good boy, go to bed." I run out of the room, closing the blinds, leaving the French doors open. I get to the gate – Nathan is picking at the lock. James grabs a hold of my hands as soon as I reach him. We wait while Nathan struggles with the lock.

"Leave her behind. We're wasting too much time," someone yells. We ignore it. Just when I start to lose hope of getting free, start considering letting them leave without me, the gate lock clicks open. The three of us laugh.

James pushes the gate open. He takes my hand.

"Which way?" a tall man says.

"Just get to the forest, we'll decide further in," Nathan says. We run straight through the maintained grounds into the forest, dodging trees, rocks, and fallen bark. Nathan, James, and I lead the pack forward. We keep running until the house is out view, and we've reached a small clearing covered in leaves.

"Head west," Michael says pointing.

"No, that's the way I went last time I escaped. There's nothing there. We'll be caught by night – go a different way," I say.

"Then this way," Nathan says. He's running before anyone has a chance to protest. We keep running for close to an hour before everyone starts to tire. The sun burns down on us. It stings my eyes, causing them to tear, making it hard to see where I'm going at times. James notices. He stops running. He reaches me, gives me a hug that lifts me off the ground. He lets me back down on the ground with a kiss.

"I love you," he says. I tell him I love him back. I tell him this more than once, before again, we're running after the group who continued without us. We keep running until the pace of the group slows down to a walk once again. Michael has fallen back to the end of the group. I slow my pace to join him.

"Are you okay," I ask.

"Yeah, just a little slower than you guys."

"Just a little." He laughs while we continue at a slower pace. I'd like to stop, give him a chance to catch his breath, but we need to get much further away before considering any ideas of rest. As I walk with Michael, I notice various people casting me shadowy looks. I can understand a lack of trust – it still annoys me when you consider we're in the same boat trying to escape the same captors.

After what must be several hours, and too many complaints to stop, we come across a ravine with a narrow stream of running water. This is our first rest point. It's only once everyone has had his or her fill of water, taken time to cool down, and found somewhere comfortable to sit that the atmosphere changes. We finally get a chance to celebrate our newfound freedom.

"We did it, we're out," a man says, others pat him on the back. I am happy we've made it this far. I know it's too soon for congratulations.

"What's the plan," I say to James.

"Just keep going until we find help."

"It might not happen before dark."

"Then we hide," says Nathan.

"I think we should follow the stream. It's in the direction we were heading anyway," says Michael, and everyone agrees.

"Come for a walk," James says. He takes my hand. We walk following the stream, heading past a series of larger rocks. As soon as we make the turn, he pulls me in for a kiss. "I was worried for you. I thought I had lost you until that night in the hall. I'm sorry, Alice. I didn't help you."

"There was nothing you could do. I'm sorry I never said 'I love you' on the boat."

"You were playing, Alice. I know you. I know you love me." He pulls me in for a hug. I can't believe how good it feels to be back in his arms. I never want to let him go. I want him closer still. He stops, places his hand on my neck. "Did he do this?"

"What?"

"Do you let him feed from you, Alice?"

"Why? Do you let her feed from you, James?" I step away from him. He doesn't reply, instead, he kicks at pieces of fallen tree branches on the ground.

"Have you been with him?"

"No. I haven't."

"Not anything?" I remember the kiss.

"Why James, what about you, have you been with her – have you?" He stands there saying nothing. The longer he stares at me without a word the sharper the anger in me grows. I had thought that I could forgive him, knowing the situation we're in, knowing that sometimes people do whatever they need to do in order to stay alive. I never realised it would be this bitter a pill to swallow – he hasn't even tried to apologise. I slap his face hard. "You could at least say sorry, or don't you care?"

"I do care, Alice. I thought I'd lost you. I'm sorry." He grabs both my arms. I try to squirm my way out. He persists pulling me closer, forcing kiss after kiss on my lips. With every kiss, my anger condenses into droplets of salty tears that roll off my cheeks to plant themselves into the dirt that we stand on. I've missed him – he was my life before all this, the one person I had been waiting for. As much as it hurts to know what he's done, it hurts more to push him away. I kiss him back, and our kisses linger, creating an invisible cocoon where time stops to exist, where nothing else matters but this, the sweetest of human needs. The world can wait for us, and it does.

In time, we hear Nathan calling our names.

"They'll find us," I say, as we make our way back.

"You don't know that, Alice." He takes my hand, gives me a look that gives me hope. We make our way up the rocky ravine to where everyone stands.

"We can't waste any more time here," Nathan says. He starts running, again, the rest of us run after him. As the day goes on, most of our group starts to fall behind. James and Nathan still power ahead. I try to keep Michael motivated. This only makes both of us fall behind. A woman stumbles, slides down to the ground beside me. I try to help her up, but she brushes my hand away. I walk back over to James.

"We're going to have to stop. They can't keep up," I say.

"We need to take a lookout anyway," James says, and Nathan agrees to go with him. James turns to the rest of the group, "We're going to stop to take another look out." Everyone is on the ground before he's finished his sentence. There's no way we'll be out of here before dark, these people are malnourished, tortured – mentally at least. I'm surprised they've made it this far. I walk up to see where James and Nathan are. Find them both up in a tall tree.

"Wait for me, I'm coming up," I say.

"Stay there Alice, we're coming down," James says. Soon, they're both back on the ground. He shakes his head. "Forest – there's nothing else."

"We have to start looking for a hideout," Nathan says.

"A cave – there should be more to choose from up in the mountains. We have more of a chance of being missed up there," James says.

"But if we head for the mountains, we're only getting further away from any chance of finding help," I say.

"It doesn't matter, Alice. We can backtrack tomorrow."

"I can't see them making it to mountains before dark."

"They will," Nathan says. He starts heading back to the group, starts talking as soon as he's reached them. "There's nothing – we can't see any cabins or anything. We need to head for the mountains so we can find a hideout for the night. We have only a few hours left before dark. We need to make this good. We can rest later. I know you're all tired and hungry. We can share the loaves of bread once we get there."

Our group may lack enthusiasm, but one by one, they get up.

I've done my best not to think of John. Pushed away any thoughts before they've had the chance to fester, but he told me there was no food in the house. It was his reason for feeding me his blood. It was a lie. There's no reason why this should surprise me – I have to leave this behind. The last thing I want is to think of him or to allow the darker thoughts he brings on to creep through my mind.

The walk gets harder. It's a steep uphill from the base of the mountains, and although many stumble, everyone keeps moving forward without a single complaint. We finally stop half way up the nearest mountain. After checking several caves along the way, we find one hidden behind shrubs. This will be our home for the night.
Chapter 16

We sit crowded together in the furthest corner of the cave, watching as Michael breaks three loaves of bread into small pieces. We pass the pieces around the group until each person has an equal share of bread. I take a bite, wanting to enjoy it, but it reminds me of shredded cardboard. I swallow hard, trying to rid the taste from my mouth. James also appears to be struggling to finish his portion of bread.

The wind blows through the narrow entrance of the cave, whistling in circles around the inside. I'm unsure if it's the wind or just the sound it makes, but for the first time in a long while, I feel the chill. Michael notices me shiver. He takes off his oversized coat, unzips a fleecy inner jacket, and then passes it to me. He replaces his coat, zipping up tight.

"Are you sure Michael, it's actually cold tonight?"

"I'll be fine. I've got another three layers under this one."

"I should have known." I roll my eyes at him and he laughs. I put the jacket on and the bread in my pocket. "Where'd you get all these clothes anyway?" He doesn't answer. My question seems to have made the rest of the group uncomfortable. Some of them seem to be squirming in their places more than they already were. I look at James – he wraps his arm around me, seems reluctant to go there.

Nathan steps up to the challenge. "They collected people on a regular basis from the communal garden lockups, at least one a night. This happened twice before the rest of us realised the person wasn't coming back. On the third night, they collected a man, who turned, and gave away his jacket. It became a ritual after that night."

As it turns out Michael's clothes didn't come to him in the same way that mine did. I can see how this would bother some of the others in the cave.

"Adam," says the woman who earlier refused my help when she fell. "The man's name was Adam. He was my brother."

"Does anyone know how to start a fire," a grey haired man says.

"Where did you get your clothes," the woman says, looking at me.

"Same place Nathan, and James got theirs. Why don't you ask them?"

"No fire – it will lead them to us. We just need to keep close to one another, share the clothes if needed. We're in this together," says James.

"It's one night. We'll be back in the real world tomorrow," says Nathan.

"If those animals don't kill us before then, or the ones sharing this cave," says the woman, looking around for support.

It's amusing how each group thinks the other as animals. The words slip out of my mouth in a quiet mumble. "Animals, aren't we all?"

"Speak for yourself," the woman says.

"If you have an issue with sharing the cave, you can leave. That goes for anyone else. At the end of the day, we're out. We don't need to stay together," says Nathan. He must be aware of the risk if we let them go, not only for them, but also for us. They will lead the vampires straight to us.

"I think everyone should shut up, and try to sleep. If you haven't noticed, it's almost dark. The less noise we make the better. They will be looking for us, you're kidding yourselves if you think they won't," says Michael. Now everyone's lost for words. I look up at James. He gives my shoulder a squeeze, offers a small smile. I've missed that smile. He's more handsome than I remember – things are complicated now.

The sky outside grows dark, the cave darker still. I lean heavily into James, cuddled up in his arms. I watch out the narrow cave entrance. We'd be sitting ducks after everyone's fallen to sleep.

"I'll take watch. We need someone to stay awake while the rest of us sleep," I say, instantly realising, there'll be a few who won't be comfortable with this. "Or someone else can keep watch. Maybe we should take it in turns?"

"I'll go first," says a brown haired man.

"I'll take the next round in four hours," says Nathan.

"I'll go after you. That should take us to morning," says Michael.

"Then it's settled," says the first man. He gets up to sit ahead of the rest. "It's better if I sit here – the cold will keep me up." The group settles to sleeping as best as they can. I know it's not my watch, but I can't get my eyes off the cave entrance, or keep my mind from wondering in darker places.

"Sleep Alice," James whispers. If only I could.

It's a cold, windy night. This should help us by making it noisy outside. Maybe harder for them smell us. Their senses are keen. I know though my own senses, how much more I can smell, see, and hear. I know John's senses are still far better than mine are – he should have realised by now that I've gone. I wonder if Phoenix is with him. It's only been a couple of nights, and Phoenix has grown twice the size. I hope John will keep him – it doesn't matter now.

I can't believe we could actually be back in the real world tomorrow. I need to get my family to a safe place before the war reaches us. It will be interesting to see what everyone makes of our story. They might be more inclined to listen, now that the war has begun – if everyone here has trouble accepting my actions, how much harder would it be for others who haven't seen the things that we have.

I move in closer to James, searching for comfort in his arms. I can't control the thoughts that come to my mind. How could he do it? How could he cheat on me this easily? I force myself to sleep. This isn't the time to be thinking over every one of my miserable issues. It takes a great deal of effort to keep my eyes closed. I eventually find sleep – I wake to the strangest sound.

It sounds as if water is dripping along the rocks – it's not raining. My eyes snap open. It takes time to adjust to the darkness. There is the slightest light coming in from the cave entrance, within its path, I can make out the silhouette of two bodies crouched in front of me. I focus. Instinctively catch my breath. There's a vampire feeding on the man who was keeping watch. I look around trying to see if there are more of them in the cave. Nathan stares back at me. The rest of the group are scared soundless, with their backs pressed up against the cave wall. I can't see James, but I know he's awake. His hand tightens around my arm. Nothing changes.

I remember the knife.

The vampire and the man are near me. I could reach them if I tried. I slowly extend my arm for the knife, trying as hard as possible not to make a sound, or any obvious movement. The vampire is facing the other direction. My hand grasps the knife. I take it out of its sheath, tightening my grip around the handle. I can't see which way the blade is pointed, don't want to move it in case it reflects off a stray beam of light. This is the best time to fight back. The vampire is distracted feeding. I have James and Nathan to back me. I ready myself for the pounce.

One quick movement – I launch myself at the vampire as it rises to its feet. I force the blade, deep into the soft between its collarbones. It lets out an ear-piercing shriek. I stab it again – this time in the chest. As if the vampire itself is made of embers, sparks light up starting at the wounds, they spread across its entire body, before reaching its face. It stares into my eyes the entire time. In this new light, I see its face. I see the red in its eyes. The vampire implodes, turning to ashes, consumed by an internal born fire. Within minutes, there is nothing, but burning clothes on the ground.

Everyone is staring into the burning remains.

"Nice work," Nathan says. He stubs out the fire with his foot. We listen for others who might be lurking outside. "I think it was alone."

"We have to leave the cave. They will smell it," James says.

"There might be more outside," a man says.

"How are we meant to see in the dark?" someone adds.

"We have to leave. They'll smell it," I say. I start heading toward the cave exit. I can hear footsteps following behind me. I stop to make sure there is nothing in sight, before walking outside. James is the first one to join me. Nothing is more a relief than the crisp night air against my skin. I pat away at my clothes, trying to get rid of the stench the vampire left behind. The rest of the group is standing outside.

"We need to move. We can't just stand around here," Nathan says. I look out into the darkness below for a glimpse of any movement, but see nothing. We start heading up the mountain with Nathan leading the path. After maybe an hour, we stop to take a rest. I can hear the trickle of running water.

"Water?" I say to James.

"It sounds like it's coming from here." He moves in closer to the rocks we were passing. Something behind me distracts him. I turn to see a man at the back of the group fall to the ground screaming.

"What happened?" someone yells, but the man is in too much pain to answer. They try to silence each other. Try to muffle the man's screams. Everyone starts to panic. I hear the zap of electricity. A woman falls to the ground screaming – complete panic has set in. Everyone is spinning in circles trying to see who inflicted the pain. Some start running, leaving the rest of us behind.

"It's them, run Alice," James says. Both Nathan and James are ready to bolt.

"Wait for Michael –" I turn to see Michael at the back of the remaining group. At the same time, he sees me. I wave at him to hurry. As he moves – I see a vampire carrying a prod, standing behind him. I can hear a clicking and crackling sound. He charges at Michael, prods him in the back of the neck. Michael falls to the ground screaming in pain.

"Rounding up the cattle," the vampire calls to someone in the trees.

"Run," James yells, pulling at my arm. We start charging through the trees. "Keep running, Alice. There's nothing we can do." The forest is silent, the animals hiding. Every so often, there is the sound of screams echoing. We keep running up the slope as more cries bellow out. "Keep running or hide? Run or hide?"

"Why?" Nathan yells.

"There's a cave on the right." It's too late we've already past it.

"There's another – up ahead." Nathan points it out. Animal noises creep closer behind us. I'd recognise that sound anywhere.

"Keep running they've brought the dogs," I say, waving my hand at them to keep going. We increase our pace, running for a sun that is nowhere in sight. The screams come to a stop. Either they have found everyone, or we're too far away to know. I do know they have Michael. I know I did nothing to help him. Our feet pound against the ground in a hypnotic, rhythmic beat. The sound of panting coming up from behind breaks our steady rhythm. I quickly turn as I keep running, but see nothing. I see the hairless hound on my second turn around, and call out to James. "Dogs – behind us."

James takes a quick look. "Get out your knife," he yells, looking back again.

"I'm trying." I struggle with the sheath while continuing to run. As I clench my hand around the handle, thoughts of Phoenix come to mind. I see the vampire running parallel through the trees. "Vampire, on the left."

James and Nathan take quick looks, none of us slows our pace, and then Nathan leading veers to the right, both James and I follow. The vampire still at our heels, smiles at me, when I turn to check where he is. Most of his hair shaved close to the head, there are patches of longer bits on the sides, trimmed in the shape of animal paw prints. There's another vampire to our right. Both are carrying electrical prods, the type used by farmers for electrocuting cattle into movement – I can see how they'd enjoy the irony of using these on humans.

"Alice," James calls my attention forward. I stumble; just miss slamming into a tree. We run into a clearing surrounded by a rocky cliff. There is nowhere to go. Three vampires with dogs make their way toward us. Nathan and James both hold their hands up in surrender, a dog charges at me before I can. I'm on the ground, my knife lost. The dog's extended teeth snap inches away from my face. I catch glimpses of James fighting another dog. The vampires stand laughing around us. Another dog charges at the one attacking me, both go flying into the rocks. It's Phoenix.

"He is a smart, young animal." I turn to find one of the vampires crouching beside me. He forces a grin into my face. "The dog led us straight to you." He slams the prod into the side of my head. The current of electricity tears a path through my body – nothing else remains.
Chapter 17

A thunder crack followed by another flash of lightening that brightens the dungeon. Lightening that rips through the fabric of the overcast, daytime sky. The rain persists to topple through the multitude of small barred windows, soaking through every layer of clothing, constructing growing puddles. The wind loops through the trees outside.

I'm alone – aching from the tip of my head to my toes, unable to stop my body from trembling. I sit crouched in one of the corners, holding onto my knees, scratching at my skin, creating sores that itch as though bugs are eating me alive. No matter how much I scratch, it offers no relief. I've drunk from the puddles of water on the floor, but no amount of water can slake my thirst. Still, nothing is worse than the relentless throbbing coming from my head. The electrical prod burned through my flesh.

I have no idea where James is, or in what state he is in – I do know that all hope is lost. I'm sure they've captured every one of us. We will never escape this prison, and I for one am all out of trying. Hours have passed, serenaded by endless raindrops that have created a harmony of misery. I've tried to sleep only to have pain awaken me in increasing intervals, the anguish always worse than the previous waking. I stand to walk the dungeon in the hope it will bring some relief. I trace the outline of messages written along the walls with my fingers. All are messages of love and hope, the ones who wrote these messages – probably dead. I find a message from James:

Alice, find a way out. I will find you.

You are the love of my life, James.

"But there is no way out."

I continue my pace of the cell. This pain will pass. It will ease – instead it continues to crush me in. It sits on my shoulders as if a heavy weight strapped onto my body. It burns a wretched path of fire through every one of my veins. I give in to it; crumble into a heap on the floor. I cry myself to sleep. The night comes creeping in, inviting shadows to crawl along the floors – these shadows I've been waiting for. John will come for me. He always does. He'll collect me from this dungeon. He did the last time I was here – rain turns to snow.

A thin film of ice lines the dungeon floor. I watch my breath, a white mist my struggling lungs exhort. An intense burning inside my stomach creates an emptiness from within. It threatens to break this shallow, cracked shell of a body I have left. Hours have passed – John hasn't come for me. I count the number of times I've had his blood. It's all I can think of now.

The night he collected me from this dungeon was the first. The butterfly house was second, the next night in the room, then my first failed attempt to escape, makes four. The night of the archery targets, the dinner that makes six, the night John found me with Bastian, seven. Finally, there were three nights before the masquerade, and twice on that night. If I count that as two, all up it makes twelve. He said fourteen times. I can drink one last time, one last time, and then I'll stop. I'll drink just enough to recover from my injuries, get strong enough not to need it again. I said I wouldn't drink fourteen times – I can stop at thirteen.

The pain rather than subsiding only continues to grow, until I can't bear it anymore, until I'm screaming his name aloud. I won't stop until he comes around – it's not John that comes to the dungeon door. She is standing by the bars laughing, an evil whisper of a laugh. It sounds as though it's coming from the inside of my head.

"He will not come to see you," she says, twirling a lock of dark red hair between her fingers. Her pale green eyes seem more lime than harlequin tonight.

"Ruby – what do you want?"

"To watch, this is the fun part."

"What is?"

"It is the part where you start screaming aloud."

"Leave – me – alone." My words releasing with extended pauses in between.

"You borrowed something that belongs to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean," her amusement turns to antipathy.

"If you mean James, he never belonged to you."

"You are wrong. He does belong to me. He became mine the moment he chose me over you that night on the boat. Do you not remember me?" She stares at me with eyes more animal than human. The image flashes before my eyes of the vampire feeding from the child. Remove the fancy clothes, the hair, and the makeup. She didn't hide behind these things that night – I remember her. I get to my feet, force my legs to move closer to where she stands, still as a statue, a smile stencilled on her face. She has played games with my life for long enough. I don't care if it ends tonight.

"Tell me what you mean," I say. We stand side-by-side, inches apart, staring into each other's eyes through the gaps in the bars. "Tell me."

"He made his choice when I asked him – to die with you in that water, or live forever by my side." Her words tear at my heart. I won't let it show.

"But I didn't die in that water – you called out in the hall. Why did you second?"

"I did it for John. What he sees in you, I have no idea." She stands back, looks me over with a smirk nestled on her lips, her teeth slightly exposed. "Besides, I was hoping for tails. You remind me of a cat that always lands on its feet. Did you enjoy the dinner party I should ask?"

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to let him go. James is mine. He wants to be with me. It is only guilt that keeps you together."

"It's not guilt. I love him."

"He does not love you. If you will not let it go – I will end him." As though she was never there, she is gone.

Daylight comes, and daylight fades. I've waited for the night. As soon as darkness falls, my screams begin – I scare myself.

Phoenix comes running down the stairs. He stops midway, looking back up, before coming to my side. I reach my hand out to him through the bars. He licks the tips of my fingers, rests his head in my palm. He stays with me watching guard, over every breath I take. Snowflakes dance along the shallow light flowing in from the high staircase. The most random thoughts skip through my mind of multi-coloured butterflies, flowers with red inner petals growing in the snow – the night he kissed me in the forest. I dream of the boat, only my family and friends are on board as it sinks. I dream of James – the dream is always the same. We're standing in a forest, as if there is an invisible wall between us, we can't touch. He can't hear me speak. He turns away from me, and leaves.

I hear Phoenix making a strange whimpering sound. I open my eyes to find him pacing by the bars. This dungeon is where it would have ended days ago, instead I ran in circles only to be back at the very same end. I stare into the ceiling above, navigating the now familiar lineage of each fracture in the aging concrete with my eyes. There is no more pain. Phoenix howls beside me. A dull ache quells my heart. It forces one ever-strained beat – eternal darkness descends.
Chapter 18

It starts with a trickle, some moisture in my mouth. Then, it flows a river, livening everything in its path. It pulses through my veins. It quickens my heart. Inch by inch I feel it crawl along my skin. It tightens every muscle. I can feel it changing everything, from the nails on every one of my toes, to the tip of each eyelash - my eyes open.

I'm dressed in a ball gown in the darkest shade of burgundy, lying on a cream, velvet lounge. John sits beside me with a small smile on his lips. The room adorned with era pieces; Persian rugs, wooden furniture, panelled walls, and a decorative plaster ceiling that is finished with a rose crystal chandelier. A restored brick wall runs the length of the adjacent corridor.

"Where are we?" I ask, sitting up.

"In the house, a part you have not seen. What do you remember?"

"Nothing – darkness."

"Alice, what is the last thing you remember?"

"I remember thinking that I'm dying – you didn't come for me." I catch a glimpse of pain cross his face, the first sadness I've seen within his light grey eyes. Sentiment traced across the faint lines around his mouth, lines I hadn't noticed until now.

"I was refused. They would not allow it. You are being punished."

"I've escaped before. Why punish me now?"

"The punishment is set not because you escaped. It is for killing one of our kind."

"It was self-defence. She would have killed us."

"He was the one she owned. She would not have killed you." His comment is wrong on many levels. It's pointless to argue.

"What is my punishment?"

"To take the freedom of choice from you, to leave you alone in what some would consider, the darkest hour."

"If you mean last night, Phoenix was with me."

"I am aware of this," he says with a smile that fades as quickly as it appeared. "Alice, it was decided that the ones you care for should be lost."

"James?" They couldn't have killed him, not because of me. John doesn't reply, forcing me to ask again. "Is James alive?"

"Ruby has decided to allow him to live. There are conditions."

"What conditions?"

"You cannot see him. If you chance a meeting, you must not speak or touch. If one of you breaks these conditions, the other will die."

"I can never see to him again."

"Not for a hundred years."

"You mean never." A part inside of me is screaming, but it doesn't reach the surface. James is lost to me. I never found the way out. He will never find me. "My family, I need to warn them."

"Alice, more countries have fallen."

"Is Australia one of these countries?"

"Yes, it is." I leap to my feet in a movement so fast I surprise myself, but I need to run as fast and far from this place as I can. I won't endure this prison any longer. I need to find my family. I need to –

"What's that sound? It sounds like music. Can you hear it? Is there a party, are they celebrating their success?"

"There is no party, Alice. It is nothing."

"Let me leave, they may have survived. I have to save my family."

"Alice, it is too late."

"How do you know? You couldn't, they are not gone, let me go to them." He takes a hold of both my hands. Again, I see it. A flash of pain crosses his face, sorrow in his eyes, and I know he's telling me the truth – my family is dead. I drop to my knees. I want to cry. Not a single tear falls from my eyes. "What's happened to me?"

"You are a vampire."

"I thought it was meant to be complicated. I thought that at least I had to drink your blood fourteen times."

"For one to be turned there needs to be a blending of the bloods of at least fourteen times. The final time being after one has passed. There are no guarantees of survival. This is the fourteenth time you have had my blood, and Alice, most would consider having to die first, as complicated."

"I'm not dead, and it isn't the fourteenth time. I've counted them. It's all I did while I was in that dungeon. This is the thirteenth time. There was the first night, then the butterfly house –"

"There were the first two nights, and then the butterfly house." As the last few words leave his lips – I remember. There were two nights. Nights that he watched over me, bathed me, fed me his blood. "This is not what I wanted, Alice. It should have been a choice for you to make willingly. I could not let it end."

"Why is that?" He seems to want to answer. He doesn't. "At least tell me why the games, why this house?"

"The games and house are pieces of the war, designed to sieve the ones we need. We filter the weak, turn the strong, in order to amass an army great enough, to bring in the New World."

"You were grooming me to be a soldier."

"It is different now." He takes me into his arms. He holds me. For the first time his touch is warm, and as it's been for a while now, it is undeniably comforting. I could stay here, but there it is again –

"What's that sound? Can't you hear it? It sounds like music. They're having a party aren't they? You're not telling me the truth."

"No, Alice. There is no party."

"Then what is it?" I pull away from him, start toward the door. He takes my hand pulling me back to him.

"Alice, stay."

"I want to see. Let me see." He stares at me for the longest time before releasing my hand. I leave his warmth to walk the corridor, toward the only open door, the one that holds that sound. I can feel every roll of fabric within the carpet at my feet. I can see every crack within the brickwork on the wall. I reach the end of the corridor. From the open doorway, I see Michael seated on a lounge in the centre of the room. Without a word, I take a seat beside him. I see nothing but him. My one friend in this house, the only person I have left. He stares at me as if he hasn't seen me in years. "You have to feed Michael. It's the only way out."

"No, Alice – I won't."

"Why?"

"Because, Alice. It's not the only way out." He gives me a curious smile.

"I don't understand, Michael. Do you know what will happen if you don't drink? Do you know what they will do to you?"

"Yes. John explained."

"John? What did he say?"

"He told me he was going to turn you. He said that he would try to help me. He said he would probably fail. Alice, how does it feel?"

"Strange." I'm unsure how I feel, more so, I don't feel anything. "What were you trying to tell me that day at the archery targets?"

"I was trying to tell you that his blood was changing you, the way you looked." He laughs. "It's a bit late for that. At least, we can't say we didn't try."

"I'm sorry I ran and left you."

"I forgive you, Alice." His voice is heavy with an underlying sincerity. Deeper than I can comprehend is required. I hug him tight against me. He feels even warmer than John did. As I content in his warmth, allowing myself to quietly rest in his arms, I hear his whisper, "No more pain." I look up at him and he smiles. His eyes are full of sadness, tinged with an immense amount of pain. As always, he appears worse than the last time we saw each other. I'd do anything to take this pain away.

"I don't want you to feel any more pain, Michael. Please, you have to listen to me." His face softens at my comment. All his pain has left him – as though I had willed it so. He kisses my cheek. I smell him, a smell hard to explain. It invites me – draws me in. I return a kiss on his cheek. I hold his body close. My kisses persist. They run the length of his neck. That sound – a beating orchestra in my ears. It's loud, and sweet.

My teeth break through the skin along his neck. His blood flows into my mouth, a taste unlike any. I can't think of wanting anything more. His body becomes heavy in my arms. It falls to the floor. I keep my hold around him tight. I want more. The blood drowns a thirst that is impossible to deny. It satisfies a dark longing, hidden in the depths, of what is left of my heart. The sound begins to fade, a beat slowing down. For the first time, I see all there is of this room. Countless mirrors hang on the walls in every shape and size – I see my own reflection staring back at me.

Crouched with one hand on the floor, the other wrapped around Michael's lifeless body – my punishment is complete. Yet, I feel stronger than ever. My skin flawless, mark free and clean, my eyes have changed from brown to the palest shade of hazel green. My hair is longer, thicker than before. Every scar I gained in life has faded, and disappeared. The world has changed for me – nothing will be the same, not now, that humanity has escaped me. The words leave my lips in a whisper, "I'm one of them."

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