 
Marked (Book 1 in the Marked by the Vampire Series)

Copyright 2012 A.N. Meade

Published by A.N. Meade at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Bittersweet Dreams

Chapter 2: C'est La Vie

Chapter 3: Homecoming

Chapter 4: Blood Red

Chapter 5: Never Let Go

Chapter 6: A New Day

Chapter 7: Run Away

Chapter 8: Princess and the Priestess

Chapter 9: Just Walk Beside Me

Chapter 10: Along Came a Spider

Chapter 11: Friends in High Places

Bonus Chapter 1: Something Borrowed

Bonus Chapter 2: Life and Death are One

About A.N. Meade

Other Books by A.N. Meade

Connect with A.N. Meade

# Bittersweet Dreams

Marc wasn't as relieved to hear her answer as he had hoped he would be. He wanted Kate with him more than anything, but he was unsure if he was asking her to do what was right. He had found her the night before, as she sat alone by the pond with the snow falling on her hair like hundreds of diamonds in the moonlight. She was twirling a blade in her hand, and he knew her intention. Life had pushed her too far, and she was staring directly into the pit of despair. He had chosen to step out from the shadows and take her. It was a selfish choice, but it was no more a choice to him than breathing is to a human. He loved her. He had always loved her. In his own life, he had sidestepped his destined death and he still carried guilt for that choice and the consequences it brought. Then, as he did now, his spirit needed to be near hers. He was unwilling for either of them to leave this life and enter the uncertainty of the next.

Tenderly, his fingers brushed back the hair from the right side of her neck. He loved her, but above his love for her was a selfish need to have her again. He would kill her. He would bring her back, and he would never let her go again. The fangs as they pierced her skin were not nearly as painful as the pressure of his bite as she felt her life slipping away. Kate had no strength left, and her body fell limp and lifeless into his arms. He laid her down carefully on the floor and supported her head with his left arm. Then, he bit deep and fiercely into his right wrist. The blood poured steadily and he watched it stain her lips. A single tear fell from his eyes. He was damning her. Even still, he could not let her go. That night, the pleasure he felt at knowing that inside she was there sleeping finally in his bed, was bittersweet.

The next day, her metamorphosis was well under way. He covered her up with a light satin sheet. In moments of partial consciousness, just the touch of the denim and cotton that she had over her tore across her flesh painfully. Her body ached and pained like a thousand tiny needles rested just below the surface of her skin. For now, she was resting. She was exhausted from her latest bout of agony. Marc sunk deep into the armchair, but could not let himself sleep. He needed to be there, alert, in case she needed him. Her screams had awoken Enric and Natasha who were sleeping down the hall.

They tapped on the heavy mahogany door.

"Enter."

Trying to be as quiet as possible, they knelt down near the bed. Kate looked so sick.

"So it has begun?"

"Yes."

"I thought you would be happier." Marc had talked about this for years. All he lived for was to find her.

"The change is not without risk. My blood is toxic to her body. See the veins beneath her skin? They're rising, full, and fighting. Her body will submit to it and be reborn, or she will die."

Marc dipped a cloth lightly into a wash basin beside the bed, and used it to wet her brow with cool water. He had done this to her. He had lived for centuries with every intention of finding her. He meant to find her, and make it so they would never part again. He lied to himself when he tried to believe it was curiosity and a desire to make sure she was okay, that drove him to hunt her down time after time. It wasn't about any of that really. He wanted her, and he waited for the chance to have her. He wrestled with these thoughts. His motives were questionable at best. She was suffering, and he had done this to her.

Enric could see that Marc was struggling. He tried to find words that would be comforting. "She is strong Marc. She'll fight through this."

"I don't want to lose her, Enric. I cannot lose her, not again."

They watched her eyes moving. Violently, they darted from one side to the next. Her skin was quickly losing its pale flush of color. Pain was written in her expression. Her jaw clenched, and she threw her head back as if she could not get enough air.

Marc continued expressing what he was feeling. This was such a rare occurrence that Enric and Natasha gave him their full attention. "I hate knowing that her spirit is there, caught in the middle and I cannot be with her."

"You are right here, touching her. How is it that you are not with her?"

"Her body rests here, but her spirit is there. It won't pass because of what I've done to her. Though she will be spared from Ifern, she must travel through the underworld alone. She has to find her way back to this body, this life."

She looked so small to him lying there on his bed. He wasn't used to worrying about her strength in this way. Would she navigate this labyrinth? Marc was so close to having her back. It was almost more than he could bear, watching her in so much pain and torment.

"Life is gone from her then?"

"Yes. Her body is only a doorway now. It lives because my blood transforms it into a vessel for her when she finds her way back."

It made sense to Enric now that she looked so pale and ill. She was essentially dead. He had never contemplated how someone became a vampire. He had never dared to imagine what it was like to transform. It looked horrible and painful. It was slow, so slow and painful. One question was strong in his mind. "How long does she have to find her way back?"

"The sun will raise twice more before the door is shut. It will be a difficult journey. I must stay vigilant. My words will guide her, if she can hear them."

The air was thick with tension, making the large bed chamber feel like a tiny, cramped closet. It was clear in Marc's voice that the risks were profound. All he could offer was his presence if it was needed. "If there is anything we can do, call for us."

As Natasha and Enric walked out, they were full of concern for their friend. It was strange for them to see Marc like this. He was beginning to look weak. He sat over her, reopening his would and pouring his blood over her lips so carefully. Enric and Natasha began to wonder if Marc's life was in as much danger as Kate's.

The next day was worse. Kate's voice echoed through the halls of the house. Everyone it seemed was in a state of unrest. They had all watched Marc put everything he had into finding her. For hours, he would sit in his room beside the cedar chest at the foot of his bed. He searched for something unknown through the trinkets that he had kept from their time together. Inside the chest were pieces of breacan, taken from the tiretaine that he was wearing. There was one piece of cloth from a kerchief that belonged to his beloved Aimee. There was also a broach that she wore on special occasions, and a pewter hair pin that had a trinity knot with an eternity circle at the top. There were many belongings besides, all pieces of his history together with her. Marc refused to leave her side. He tended to her constantly as she slept.

Natasha remembered how he had made many trips to New Orleans before he had at last found Kate. He would go down to New Orleans and see Elsie who was a voodoo high priestess. She was a vampire, like him, but she had a gift of foresight. Her knack for communicating with the spirit world was amazing, almost as strong as her affinity for dark magic. He would leave for days on end to go and consult with Elsie so that he would know where Kate was and what he could do to find a door into her life once again. Natasha wished so much that Elsie was here to help Marc through this. She would know what to do.

The pierce of Kate's screams jolted Marc into action. He walked over to her and wiped her head, face, neck and shoulders with the cool cloth. He was careful and gentle. As dawn approached, Enric and Natasha returned to Marc's room with a platter of food and a glass of cabernet franc.

Enric knew from the intensity and frequency of her screams, that things were bad. "How is she today, Marc?"

"She rests less and less now."

"You look weak. Here is some food, and if you need me I am here." Natasha could no longer hide the worry in her eyes. Marc was so tired. She could see it in him.

His answer was short. "I cannot feed until tomorrow morning." He downed a piece of roast beef and the wine in seconds, obviously hungry for something more. "I can't risk introducing her body to so much of someone else's blood, not when we're so close to making progress."

Enric walked over to the side of the bed. The ribbons of purple had faded under Kate's skin. He noticed that her body had begun to take on a kind of otherworldly glow. Her skin and hair were radiant, like a woman with child. She was saying something as if she were reading from a text, low, and methodically under her breath. It was a text they knew, from the 240 BC writing, the Egyptian Book of the Dead.

She repeated the phrases over and over again. The words seemed to give some measure of comfort to Marc. "She is finding her way back." Marc stroked her face as she spoke, his words in sync with hers.

Natasha recognized the words from a book she was familiar with. "That's from the book of the Dead?"

Marc had always found the moniker insufficient in some way. He grinned in amusement. "Well, that's what the English call it."

Natasha was confused. This text was significant historically, but she could not fathom how it had anything to do with what was happening now. "What significance does the Book of the Dead have to this?"

Marc began to explain as best he could. "The Egyptians possessed great wisdom. The information in those scrolls is the key to understanding a large part of what we must face in the underworld. It's like a wilderness, vast and confusing. There are many paths that can lead in many different directions. One set of choices leads to reincarnation on this earth if your soul's learning is complete. One leads to paradise and the other to torment."

"What about the immortals?"

"Well, that's something else altogether. For Vampires, it is a journey backward against the raging river, back to our bodies, a gateway quickened with unnatural life."

One more day, that's all they had left. Kate was so close to reaching the end of her journey beneath. Marc had found that his grief had subsided, and in its place was fierce anticipation. He wondered if she would reconnect with who she was in their life together so long ago. He wondered if she would love him, or if she would come to regret her choice and resent him for what she would become. Either way, Marc was pleased that she was resting so calmly now. The sun broke through the heavy velvet drapes and danced across her face. She was so beautiful. Then he noticed it, the gash in her arm had begun to heal. He took off the bandage just to be sure. The cut was fading like it had never been there at all. She was changing. She was becoming a Vampire. Marc rested a moment, knowing that she would awaken soon. He leaned his body against the thick post at the end of the bed. Natasha and Enric had joined him again to keep vigil over her. He was pleased to tell them the worst had passed. "Her wounds are healing."

Enric and Natasha could not help but smile. There had been so much tension over the last couple of days. This was good news. Her body had at last stopped fighting, and Marc's blood would begin to strengthen her. They watched him bite deeply into his wrist for the last time, and gently tilt back her head.

"She's getting stronger, it won't be long." When Marc glanced back at them it was frightening at first. His skin was shadowed, and his eyes gleamed, bright and piercing. They looked a lot like a kaleidoscope. They were predominately green in hue and as wild as any animals. His fangs stood out dramatically. Even the way he carried himself was different, dominant, and more aggressive. He wiped Kate's lips with a white kerchief, and bound his wrist carefully with gauze and a heavy leather cuff watch. He glanced down and then met their eyes to explain what must be done next. "It will be a few hours before she awakens. I must go. I'll be back as soon as I can. Take care of her until I return." Then he paused, there was one more thing he needed to know, "Enric, are you certain you still want to do this?"

Enric's response was immediate. "Yes. We have seen how much she means to you."

"Good." With that, Marc closed the door.

Natasha had never seen him like that before. He had remained perfectly composed, but underneath it was plain to see that his hunger had grown intense. Day hunting was very dangerous. He would make a good choice, she knew that. Marc liked to choose someone who was disconnected and cruel. He often chose criminals. Still, it was hard to know what was happening. It was terrible for the mortal, no matter what Marc's skill was. As fast and skilled as he had become at killing, it was still bad for Marc too. He had never really enjoyed hunting men. Even though he needed to at times to survive it never seemed that simple. He had always viewed it more like murder. There was no other choice; if he didn't hunt he was far too hungry to control himself during a feeding. He had to let the beast inside grow hungry, so that he could be there like he needed to be for Kate. Now, he needed to quench that hunger so that he could be logical and strong for her to lean on after her awakening.

It was dusk before Marc returned to the house. His eyes were calmer. With the storm inside him abated, Natasha could not help but wonder for a moment about the specifics of his hunt. Who was it he chose? Were they afraid? She knew that their face would always be with him. He remembered every human he killed, every single one. He had told her so once. He even remembered the faces of the warriors he bested in battle before he was immortal. Marc had not hunted since they made their agreement, until now. It seemed so terrible from a human point of view, but he was not human after all. Natasha told herself that what he had to do was natural, no matter how terrible it seemed.

Marc did not rush to Kate. Instead, he went first into the bathroom. He didn't utter a word as he passed Natasha and Enric in the hall. He dared not meet their gaze with the blood still dry on his lips from his kill. He turned on the hot water and stripped off his clothes. They smelled like death. He dipped his hands into the water and rinsed his face, letting his fingers run along the side of his head. It never got easier as strange as it was. He had killed dozens of men in battle as a mortal. He had killed hundreds more as an immortal, and not one of them haunted him like now. The stream enveloped him, beginning to release the tension in his muscles. He used his shirt to wipe clean a space on the mirror. He had cleaned away the blood and bits from his body, but his teeth were stained a sheer red. "What have I done," he thought, "this has been such a curse and here I have given it to the soul I love above all else."

He knew he did what he needed to do. He did what had to be done. There was no way that Natasha would have survived his brutality. He was far too hungry, and he would have killed her. Though it was necessary, Marc found it difficult to accept at times.

It was well into the night, before the final traces of his deed were washed down the drain. Marc found Enric and Natasha sitting in armchairs beside Kate's bed, deep in conversation with one another.

"Are you ready then?" Natasha beamed a satisfied smile at Enric. This would be one more thing that they could share together. Natasha had been waiting for this, for Enric to commit fully to this life. She wanted him to have what she had with Marc. Their friendship had changed her for the better.

"I am," Enric replied in his typically collected tone. He smiled back at Natasha and then lifted his gaze to Marc as he entered the room.

"I'm glad to see you are ready, dear friend. We've only a couple of hours now before she wakes." Just saying it out loud made Marc's heart race. He was so close to having her back.

"How soon will she need to feed?"

The faint tremor that Marc detected in Enric's hands was the only give away that his composure was crumbling. He was afraid. It was good. New vampires were often overly eager. It was not unheard of for a willing donor to become injured or even to die if the feeding were not monitored closely. "She will need blood almost right away, but I would like a few moments in private with her at first."

"Of course."

"It is well past time for dinner, I have asked Edward to prepare a meal for you. It is important that you eat and have your strength, especially you Enric." Marc had been gentle in his guidance and he could see that the idea was readily accepted by Natasha. She could no doubt remember the fatigue that she felt at the beginning of her arrangement with Marc.

"Thank you, Marc. Do you wish to join us?"

"No, excuse me please. I want to be here when she opens her eyes." Kate was in a deep sleep now. Her body had been utterly exhausted by the journey. Marc felt responsible to be there when she awoke to this new existence. He thought then of another need that would have to be met. "Could you do me a favor, Natasha?"

"Yes, what do you need?"

"Kate will need something to wear. I don't want to her to be self-conscious when she gets up. I would like something simple and elegant. Cashmere would be perfect."

"What about the ivory sweater dress? And I could bring the brow belt with the turquoise insets?"

"She'll like that." They smiled in agreement. In their life before Kate had always loved blue. It sounded perfect.

"I'll have it ready when you call for us." Natasha and Enric moved downstairs then, to set about devouring their dinner and easing Enric's anxieties.

The anticipation was about to drive Marc insane as he waited upstairs. Intently, he watched every twitch of her eyelid. She had overcome all the obstacles of the underworld. Here she was, after all of that, lying in front of him sleeping. He felt more bonded to her than ever. Gently, he brushed back strands of stray hair from her face. Each breath was easy and calm, her chest rising and falling ever so lightly. As she opened her eyes, it took a moment for things to come into focus. Her head ached. Her thoughts were chaotic. She was in a bedroom, in a bed with four tall dark posts. There was a small side table with a large white porcelain bowl on top. The windows were lined with deep mahogany book cases and draped in crushed velvet. The bright rays of sun as they broke the horizon were overwhelming. She recoiled quickly, shielding her face with her right arm. She could hear the sounds of the draperies being quickly drawn shut.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you would be so sensitive to the light." Marc tried to pull the curtains as quick as he could so that Kate would have a moment for her senses to adjust. She slowly put down her arm and searched the room for his face. That first time their eyes met since her change was more than Marc could have anticipated. Her eyes had always been a beautiful shade of blue. As impossible as it seemed, they had become even more captivating. They were brighter, wilder. They were like his own. He wanted to rush to her and kiss her with the most passionate kiss he could, but he knew that would take time. It would take time for her to trust him, to love him again. She would again; they were not whole without one another.

"My head hurts so much." Kate shut her eyes again.

Marc sat down beside her and held his hand to her face. She let her head fall heavily into it. She breathed deeply in and out, and then glanced up at him. She took a deep breath in and looked at Marc. "I don't know where to begin."

He ran his fingers gently along her cheek. His smile was warm and comforting. "There's no rush. We have all the time that we need." It was a wonderful thought that they had all that span of time out before them now. It had been so long that he had dreamed of holding her again. What a comfort it was to know that he would hold her forever.

In spite of Marc's reassurances, Kate felt an urgency to share what she had experienced in the underworld. So many profound things had woven the circumstances that brought her back to this life. There were so many things that she could have told Marc, but there was one certain thing that would give him assurance as they began their relationship together. "I saw it all happen." Kate had actual memories of her life with Marc. He had alluded to their time together before her change, and Kate had searched for that piece of her past when she left to go to the underworld. There was a whole lifetime that she had gained. She felt all the emotion that it carried with it.

Marc didn't try to hide the smile on his face when he heard her speak the words. He had hoped that she would regain some sense of who they were together. He had not even dared for memories, but would have contented himself with knowing she understood the depth of his feelings for her. Human memory is a strange thing. It creates a sort of radio signal into the world, repeating over and over what is in the blood. Memories and experiences are constantly being played and built upon. Marc knew that she would see part of his past, but that she had true memories, from her own eyes and with her own senses was overwhelming. "I knew you would see. I just wasn't sure how much." He was beaming, and Kate smiled back at him just as sincerely.

"Some of it I saw, not as you saw it, but with my own eyes. I saw it. I saw it all happen." Something in Marc's memories had triggered Kate's own memories. She had gained her own recollections of her past life together with him.

It was more than he could have hoped for. His blood had changed her, and his voice was her guide back. Marc could not help but wonder if the memories Kate had found were because of his influence. She had grown quiet. "Aimee?" His smile would not fade, and she smiled back at him as she looked up. He wondered if she would remember her name. He hadn't realized until that moment how much he had missed speaking it.

"I have had a few names, you know."

"None are equally as beautiful to my ears." He loved the playfulness in her tone. He knew now that he had her back. It was more than just the essence of her. She was here, mind body, and soul.. Sharing all the same memories of the life they had experienced together was breathtaking. The bond they had between them could only grow stronger. Marc just sat there a moment. He was stunned. He was happy, but stunned. For all the years he had imagined this moment, he could barely breathe let alone act or speak.

During their silence, Kate became acutely aware that the only thing covering her was the thin satin sheet. She pulled her arms close and wrapped them tightly around her chest. "Are you surprised that I can remember?"

"I didn't know that would happen, if that's what you mean."

"But it pleases you?" Kate knew it pleased him. The smile on his face made it more than obvious. He seemed so easily content with her. The heavy emotion that the time they spent together the last few days was a low shadow cast upon it, but even through that, Marc was content in her company. He let her see how happy being near her made him. He did not hide his emotion when she awoke from her dangerous sleep. All of these things endeared him more closely to her. Combined with the memories of their past together, Kate was beginning to feel more and more connected to him.

"Yes." He unfolded one arm from around her so that he could rest her hand inside of his. "I want to thank you for trusting me. I have missed you, so much that I doubt you can comprehend it. Whatever you need, I am here for you. I love you."

Normally she would have taken a moment to contemplate the seriousness of his proclamation. Time for that would have to wait, pain wracked through her head like a knife. She had to close her eyes for a moment her head ached so badly.

"Are you okay?" He held her hand tightly, searching her face to try and read her expression.

"It's just a headache." His touch was soothing. She had never felt this before, so loved, and so cared for. Sounds thundered in her ears. She could hear everything. She could hear the drops of rain falling rhythmically outside the window, the soft roar of the fireplace across the room. Even the scent of saffron, white cedar, and a deep rich citrus of some kind lingered in the air. It was his scent. She had never noticed it so strongly before. It was nice, but overwhelming at this intensity. "It's hard to concentrate. It's like things are jumbled up and amplified in my head."

"You need to feed soon."

"No, I'm not ready."

"If you don't, that feeling will grow until you will no longer be able to control it."

There were many things that she would have to adjust to. The feel of fangs in her mouth was strange, and her eyes seemed to focus on the tiniest movements. For instance, there was a draft at the window that caused the drapes to blow out, just a bit, at the bottom.

She must have been staring at it too long. Marc laughed softly. "You'll get used to that. Your senses are much more keen now."

"I don't know if I can do this." The thought of biting into someone's flesh was more than appalling.

The memory of Marc's first feed was faded. He could see from the emotion on her face that the idea of having to do this was one that tormented her. He offered what comfort he could. "I've spoken to Enric already. He knows what to expect, and he wants to help you."

"What if I hurt him?" What if she did? She certainly felt like she could. Part of her wanted to. She was so hungry. One corner of her mind screamed to feed; the other was disgusted at the thought.

"You won't hurt him. You can control this. It will take time, but I will show you how to control it. It's going to be alright. I promise you." She believed him the moment he spoke the words. He kissed her softly and gently on the forehead and then walked over to the door. He opened the door slowly and spoke into the hall. "Natasha, Enric." In only a moment they were there. They must have been waiting outside.

"I brought you some clothes." Natasha laid the most beautiful dress over the top of the bed. It was a woven dress in a soft cream color. It was a sweater and seemed warm, but the material was not bulky. It looked comfortable, but still elegant.

She was sure it must be worth more than any dress she had owned before. Colors seemed so much richer now. She noticed every color in vivid detail, and the textures of things stood out like she was wearing 3D glasses. Marc and Enric remained by the door. Her concentration was broken suddenly by the sound of Marc's voice.

"Just open the door when you're dressed. We'll talk more then." With that, they were gone. She was left alone with Natasha who walked over by the window, peering through the tiny opening between the drapes.

"It will be a good day today." Natasha tried her best to reassure her new friend. It was difficult to imagine what Kate must have been going through. Natasha was human, after all. She had spent years by Marc's side as a close friend, but she could never really fully experience what it was like to go through the transition, or to let go of your humanity in any varying degree. Still, Kate appreciated the effort she made to bring her comfort.

The cashmere felt amazing as it glided over her body. The belt was nice too. She was always drawn to things that looked like that. The turquoise insets stood out beautifully against the dark leather. It looked like little beads of water, frozen and enhanced in color. They were like tiny little planets that she could hold in her hands. She had a new sense of confidence as she stood, not arrogant but sure. She felt connected to her body more than she ever did before. She could feel her skin, her breath. She felt alive as her feet touched the cold hardwood floor, more alive than she could ever remember feeling before. "Thank you, Natasha. I appreciate the dress, and the encouragement." Kate straightened the belt around her hips as Natasha turned back around.

"Oh, it fits you beautifully." Natasha took a moment to look Kate over, making sure that there were no flipped out labels or loose threads. The dress did suite her perfectly. Kate had a rounder figure than she did, and the way that the cashmere hugged against her breasts and hips was something that she never could have had in the same. Natasha was built more like a model, tall and thin. The only thing missing was the boots. "I brought some boots for you too. They're beside the bed."

"They're beautiful." Kate rushed over and held one of the boots up to examine it better. She held it for a moment, admiring the craftsmanship. They were Italian, deep brown leather, with musketeer detail and a stiletto heel. They were quite possibly the finest thing she had ever worn.

The satisfaction and appreciation on Kate's face was telling. "I'm glad that you like them." Natasha had never really known someone like Kate before. Her emotions were so pure. She had undoubtedly been through a lot in her life, but when she felt something it was all consuming. She didn't hide her thoughts from her face. She was sincere. Natasha walked over and opened the door while Kate slipped the boots on.

Marc held the door open, letting Enric pass into the room and Natasha step out. "Natasha and I will be waiting downstairs. We have some business to go over, so just come and join us later, we'll be entrenched in boring details of our latest art acquisition for some time I'm sure."

Kate felt awkward when he shut the door. Here she was, alone with Enric. She had never made a habit of being alone with a man. When she was human it was considered inappropriate. She had lived almost exclusively in small towns, where rumors and reputation were of utmost importance. It had also been her experience in life that the men that surrounded her always wanted something from her. She knew that this arrangement with Enric was not sexual, but it was still intimate in so many ways. She was confused about what she should feel about that. She was also confused by what she did feel. She almost immediately noticed the soft hum of the blood flowing under his skin, and the faint beating of his heart in his chest. She didn't hear her own heart beating. Holding her hand up to her chest, she couldn't feel it either. It must be beating, or how could she be moving. Then, Enric began to speak, breaking the silence.

"You're nervous?" He was looking at her, trying to decipher her mood. His brow was narrowed in concern. He had been worried about her. It seemed strange that he would develop a sense of caring for her in any capacity, especially since they had known one another such a short time.

"I don't want to hurt you." She answered in the truest way she could. She didn't feel nervous. She was afraid if anything. She was afraid because she had always up until this point known herself. She had known her own ability and intention in spite of not knowing the intent of others. She had always had a great sense of self control. It was different now. She had no idea what she was capable of. The only thing that she was certain of was that she would be capable of far more than she had ever allowed herself before.

"Then you won't." Enric seemed sure that Kate would be able to manage herself. He trusted her with his life.

"How can you know that? How could you possibly? I can feel the change in me already."

His confidence was soothing. He didn't seem worried about doing this at all and that helped Kate to feel a little more at ease. He tried his best to explain. "You care. You care about people, and about life. You've been beaten down by things, so I'm not surprised that you doubt yourself, but in time you'll see yourself differently." He sat down beside her on the bed. He saw no point in lingering on the issue of would she or would she not be able to control her desire to tear out his throat. A change in subject to more pressing concerns seemed like a good idea. "Have you thought about where the bite should be?"

"No, somewhere out of plain sight probably." Kate tried to force herself to let go of her fear and concentrate on what she must do.

Enric took off his suit jacket and laid it across the footboard. "Yes, that's true. I have to be out a lot in the public. I don't know that the majority of citizens would understand this." For forty-eight, he was in very good shape. His body was lean and sculpted. It was obvious too that he had quite the boyish face, except for the few grey hairs that lined the side of his head just above his ears. They didn't' age him that much, but rather gave him a more distinguished air. He took off his shirt and laid it neatly on top of his jacket. "What about my back, or the front of my chest?" He had never been much for wearing watches, so Natasha's method would not work out well for him. He also tended to lose his tie at first available opportunity that made his neck an unappealing option.

She could sense very vein, every artery pulsing beneath his skin. The blood would be the richest close to his heart. She felt a surge of strength from within, energizing her. She was certain she could have driven her hand directly into his chest and wrapped her fingers around his heart. She tried instead to focus on the image of him unbuttoning his shirt. Letting the sight of him turn her on would be better than eating his heart.

In either case she was severely distracted. This forced Enric to lead their interaction. Marc had already warned him that this would be necessary. "I would rather somewhere on the front of my torso I think. What about here?" He pointed to a spot along his left side, just below his breast. It would hurt, but he wasn't sure that he'd trust her close to his jugular, and he was certain he didn't trust her behind him. It seemed like it might be a good option.

Kate made herself focus. "It would be painful, that's right over your ribcage." She didn't really care that it would hurt him, but she knew it would be good to warn him. He would have to manage his pain well. She knew that if he pulled away, or tried to stop her she would lose control. There was a sensitive switch that she was fighting not to flip.

"Could you get a good feeding from there?" He wanted to make sure she got what she needed. His neck and arms were not an option, and she was not going anywhere near his femoral with her wild eyes. The softness of his lower abdomen seemed like a horrible idea too, so he rather liked the protection the bones of his ribcage provided. He had no real idea of the capacity of her strength. Besides, he had never had a problem with pain.

It would be almost too good a spot. The blood flowed heavy and strong there, so close to his heart. It was as if she were a surgeon. She could see a map in her mind of every vessel, every muscle, and every bone. He reclined lightly against the pillows behind her, with his right arm up over his head. She turned to face him. "Yes, I think so." Don't kill him, she had to continue to repeat in her mind. She longed for the days when this kind of situation would be about sex and no more complex than that.

"We'll both be fine." He misread her silence and hesitation for fear. She was past that. He ran his hand long her right arm comfortingly. It wasn't that she couldn't bite him, as horrified as that made her in and of itself. It was that she wasn't sure if she could stop. She doubted her own self-control more strongly than ever. Things had often been chaotic around her, but she had always had the ability to shut off herself and do whatever it was that she needed to. It was almost at times like she was a robot. This was different. Her body and spirit felt so connected now. It was overwhelming. She trembled as she brought her face to his side, forcing her body to bow to her will. "I'm ready." He gripped the bed sheet tightly in each fist, anticipating the pain. She closed her eyes and her fangs pierced his skin with superhuman precision. She would feel them glide under his skin and instantly they filled with his blood. There was no dramatic sucking, like there is in movies. The pressure of the bite itself was enough for the fangs to draw up the blood, much like a needle and a syringe.

The pressure was so intense, in fact, that he barely felt her teeth pierce his flesh. He grunted once, softly, just at first. His breaths were quick and shallow. She could feel each racing beat of his heart as his blood pulsed into her mouth, warm and metallic. Then, she could sense his past. His memories flowed through her mind in quick flashes. She could see him as a child in Italy. He paid his way through college himself. She could see him as he met Natasha for the first time, and a dozen other random flashes. "He is a man of true honor," she thought.

He could hear her. She was connected to him on a deeper level now. IT was strange and wonderful. Marc had not mentioned this aspect. It was a communication without spoken words, but all the more effective. This explained the knowing glances between Marc and Natasha as he fed. She expressed her gratitude, and opened herself to his thoughts to try and assess if she were causing him more pain than he could bear. He was okay.

She was okay too. She felt in control. She could feel the energy surging through her body, it was invigorating. Soon, she could tell that she was nearly full, and Enric was getting weak. Gently she loosened her bite, and began to pull her fangs out slowly. It wasn't as terrible a thing as she thought it would be. She wondered if Enric felt the same way.

"There's some gauze and ointment in the bedside table." He gave no indication either way.

"Okay. How are you feeling?" She reached over and got the gauze out of the drawer so that she could begin to tape up his wound. It wouldn't be necessary to clean it. It wouldn't get infected. The gauze would help to conceal the nature of the wound if he were seen unclothed though. She was almost afraid to meet his eyes. She felt so vulnerable, which was unexpected. He was what stood between her and the predator that wanted out. She needed him. She also knew that she hadn't been gentle. She didn't even think about how he was feeling until her own need was met. She didn't know how he would react.

"I feel good, Kate. I think I might actually have a bit of an adrenaline high going." He smiled. She enjoyed his confidence and strength. He had a way about him, and people seemed to really enjoy being in his presence. He was selfless and honorable and many things that were foreign concepts to her in the men that she had known. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better than I thought I would." It was just a few moments ago that she didn't know if she could even go through with this first feed. Now that it was done, she was relieved. Her hunger was silenced, and he was alive. She was very happy. His smile was infectious, and she echoed it back at him. He knew the fears and reservations that she would be facing. It was good to know that he was there for her. Also, she was pretty sure that it hurt like hell, but she was glad that he had spared her the guilt of saying so.

# C'est La Vie

Marc couldn't take his eyes off of her as she walked down the staircase. She was absolutely the most beautiful woman that he had ever known. It was like their wedding day all over again. She had made an even more profound commitment to him this time. It was such a relief and joy to have her back in his life again. Her skin glowed with an otherworldly glow. There was a bright and colorful aura around her. He was seeing her happy for the first time in so long. She took his breath away. It was such a relief and joy to have her back in his life again. He took her hand as she stepped onto the landing at the foot of the staircase.

"You look refreshed."

"I am feeling much better." She could see from the reaction on Marc's face that he was impressed. It was nice to have him look at her like that. For that moment, she was the center of his world. He led her out the side door and onto the terrace.

"Are you really okay?"

"I think so, I mean, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be." Kate appreciated that Marc was so concerned for her emotions. He understood how hard it had been for her to come to terms with her new self. He had asked a lot of her in turning her. It was a selfish thing for him to do. That was the basic nature of his decision; he would not let her go again. While Marc's thoughts drifted backward, Kate was thinking of the future. "Where do we go from here?"

"Where do you want to go?" He was happy to leave the thoughts surrounding what he had done, and what he would have done with or without her consent.

"What do you mean? I don't know." Kate had never entertained the idea of traveling before. Her life had always been centered on the struggle to meet basic necessities.

"Tell me, what is the one thing that you've always wanted to do but never thought you would have the chance?"

She took a moment to think. If there were any place on earth that she had wondered of as a girl, it was Paris. She could remember seeing the image of the Eiffel tower in her mind and thinking that it was such a beautiful place. Of all places this one stood out. "I used to dream of going to Paris."

"What would you do there?" He was pleased to see her trying so hard. Just imagining a destination was hard for her. She had never given herself permission to be happy or to let herself dream.

"I would like to see the Eiffel Tower, I think."

"Ah." He smiled and nodded in complete agreement and appreciation. He had been to Paris, of course during his long time walking this earth. He was turned in France. It would forever be close to his heart.

Kate closed her eyes for a moment and turned her head just slightly to the right while she thought to herself. "I want to stand on the highest balcony and share a passionate kiss with the man that I love, who loves me even more, a kiss so powerful that for a moment we would forget how frightening and beautiful the view was."

He loved the way she looked like this. She had the innocence and excitement of a child about seeing that place. She wanted to experience this moment that she had explained so well. He wanted her to have it. "Let's go."

"What?"

"Go to Paris! We could leave on Friday."

"Are you joking?" Kate could not believe that this was real. Here was a man who loved her, who cared what she dreamed of, and who wanted to make those dreams come true.

"No, I'm not joking. You want to see Paris, and I want to show it to you."

"Really?" Her smile was radiant. The excitement shone in her eyes, then suddenly her glance fell and her smile faded.

"What is it? Don't you want to go to France?"

"Yes, of course I do, but I just. I can't stop thinking about them."

"Who can't you stop thinking of?"

"The people I left behind." She was ashamed to even admit it to him, or to herself. No one she had left behind and really cared for her. She had given so much of herself over the years for their expectations. They had only given her a broken heart.

Marc pulled her close to him, letting her sink her face into his chest for a moment. "I understand what you are going through. It's not normally a good idea to check in on them, but if you need to then I'll take you."

Kate thought about it for a moment more. Was this really what she wanted to do? They had always disappointed her before. Instead of offering comfort, she could very likely be setting herself up for pain. "I think I have to. I need to know what is happening with them."

"It's settled then, we'll go in the morning."

They went back inside and found that Enric and Natasha had fallen fast asleep, leaned up against one another on the couch. Marc laughed softly. "I guess we're on our own. Let's go up to the library." He grabbed a couple of wineglasses and a bottle of Cabernet. As she followed him up the winding staircase it became apparent to her that this was what she had been missing. When something was never quite right, when she longed for something more, all along it was this. She felt at home. They sat down on the floor of this great room. Rows upon rows of books lined the shelves from the floor to the ceiling. It was dark, except for the soft ambient light given off by the sconces. Marc grabbed a book and began thumbing through it. He found the page that he was looking for and began to recite it.

He looked at her as he spoke, his eyes rarely falling on the pages. This was a book that he knew by heart, Chaucer's The Knight's Tale. "The Destiny, minister general, that executeth in the world o'er all, the purveyance which God hath seen beforne, so strong it is, that tho the world had sworn the contrary of a thing by yea or nay, Yet sometime it shall fallen on a day that falleth not oft in a thousand year; For, certainly, our appetites here, be it of war, or peace, or hate, or love, all this is ruled by the sight above." As he finished the passage, he turned the book around and handed it to her. "What do you think?"

Gracefully, he picked up a wineglass and filled it halfway. She took it lightly in her hands and tried to think as she stared into the glass, swirling it a bit. She wasn't used to being asked what she thought very much, especially about something so profound. She doubted her own intelligence. What alternate interpretation of the words could she give him that would make any sense at all? She had been forced to drop out of college because of lack of support. Financially and emotionally she had no means to continue her education. It would have been pointless anyway being that she was forbidden to have a career or occupation outside of her home. All she knew of life was the little bit that she herself had experienced. Her narrow experiences seemed so miniscule next to the ages that Marc had survived.

"Don't over think it. I don't want a contrived answer. I want to know what you really think."

Kate took a big drink of wine. She wanted to open up to him, but she wasn't sure how. She decided to just tell him what she thought as plain and simply as she could. "I think that he's talking about fate and how some things are destined to happen."

"Que sera, sera?"

"Yes, to some extent." She was horrible at explaining things, and especially horrible at speaking to him in any intelligent way. It didn't matter because here they were. In a way it was nice to have him so interested in her thoughts.

"Interesting, what do you mean by that?"

"There are some things in life that we are meant to experience. Circumstances will always shift us back to certain situations until we walk through it and learn something." This had seemed true from what she had seen in her own life, and with family members. Some of them were in an endless repeating cycle. Most of those people were selfish, and unwilling to look inward for answers to hardships.

"Have we no say in our own destinies then?"

"I think so, because there are lessons to be learned and many alternate paths to attain that understanding. We are meant to accomplish a certain level of enlightenment and self-improvement. How we go about learning those life lessons is up to us. We have free will to choose how, or to choose to do nothing at all."

"Yes, I suppose so." He smiled as he sipped the cabernet. He was so relaxed around her. It was easy to mirror that. He made her feel at ease. She tried, but couldn't remember the last time that someone really listened to what she had to say like he did. "Your turn, choose one. Ask me anything you want."

She scanned the titles of the books behind him. All of the covers and titles seemed to blur together, except for one which stood out from the rest. She leaned over Marc's left shoulder and pulled the book gently from the shelf. It was Emma by Jane Austen. She had read a copy of it as a young girl. She remembered being taken away by the characters. The cover was a warn canvas, but with letters inlaid with gold leaf. Just the cover itself was beautiful. He continued to sip his wine giving her time to collect her thoughts. This was nice, sharing this quiet moment with someone else. She never had shared such peaceful and quiet moments with someone before. Books were impractical. They took up time, and time for herself had never been an allowable priority. The attitudes of her family didn't keep her from reading little by little at night when everyone slept, or during the few rare moments that she could steal away during the day. It was in those fleeting moments that she first began her friendship with Marc. She felt so comfortable there beside him. She knew that his actions were genuine. He wanted to know who she was. Finally, she found the page that she was looking for and began to read.

"I must see someone far superior to anyone I have seen yet to be tempted.. I would rather not be tempted. I cannot really change for the better. If I were to marry, I must expect to repent it..."She flipped through a few pages and began reading again. "Emma's eyes were instantly withdrawn: and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, once open to suspicion made rapid progress. She touched-she admitted- she acknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse that Harriet should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank Churchill? Why was evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet's having some hope of a return? It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow, that Mr. Knightly must marry no one but herself."

Kate took in a deep breath, and then glanced up. Her eyes met Marc's in an understanding gaze. He just looked at her for a moment, and then he spoke low and inquisitive. "So, what do you think of that?"

"I think they are very brave." Kate remembered the anticipation that she felt when she first read Emma. It seemed tragic how close that Emma and Mr. Knightly were to one another and were still blind to how perfect they were for each other. Emma worried so much over other people's happiness that she didn't think of her own until it could have been too late. Even still, once she realized her mistake, she went for what she wanted with all the passion and determination that she had brought to all of her other endeavors.

It surprised Marc that "brave" was the first word that she chose to describe the situation between Emma and Mr. Knightly. "Really, how were they brave? They spent so much time wasted before they came together in the end."

"They were brave because it's brave to make that kind of change or realization at all. It's strange about some people, but they would rather stay where things are bad than make a different choice. The comfort of familiarity is not worth the risk, even if it means a losing a chance for happiness."

"Yes, I suppose so." Marc couldn't help but notice the seriousness in her face when she tried to explain her thoughts. It was almost a pained expression. It could be a difficult thing for him to talk about his feelings too, he understood that much in her. Still, he could not resist the chance to learn more about her. For all the similarities that she had from their time before, there were new things about her. The centuries had changed them both for different reasons, and in different ways. He wanted to learn who she was, and he wanted her to see him for who he had become. They needed this so that they could move forward together. It was interesting and it was beautiful.

Kate was becoming more and more comfortable expressing her thoughts to Marc about the books and characters. It was easier in a way to talk about situations that weren't their exact situation. The wine probably helped a little too, she had lost track of how many glasses that she had sipped to empty as she read and talked with Marc. For hours they sat, drinking the cabernet and reading passages to one another from book after book.

Marc pushed himself up from the hardwood floor and thumbed through another row of books. He went straight to the right place, so it was clear that there was something specific he had in mind. "This is one of my favorites." He took down Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte and began to read. "Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living... I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always- take any form."

Marc took a moment to look down at the page, and then he searched Kate's face for her reaction to the memorable quote. "His love for her was so intense that their bond brought her back to him. I dreamt for years that ours would bring her together again somehow."

He had spent so much of his time and his energy trying to find her and to connect with her. Kate couldn't help but wonder if she could ever live up to the expectation of her that he must have built over time. There was no way to know really. It was obvious that he was intrigued by her, and that he loved her entirely. Some things are just beyond control. Some things must be left to time and the universe and there is no way to plot the course of them. They sat there in that old library with its big round top windows until the early morning, reading, talking, and laughing.

The sun danced lightly on Kate's cheek. Marc ran his fingers through her hair gently fanning it out around her face. She had fallen asleep mid-sentence in the early hours of the morning. She looked so peaceful lying there on his shoulder. He knew that she was tired. So much and happened over the last week. Both of their lives were changing dramatically. Despite his concerns, it felt amazing to have her there in his arms again.

The morning light as it broke through the part in the drapes eventually roused her to consciousness. Marc had agreed to take her to see how things were at her old home. It wasn't necessarily unusual for a newly turned vampire to go back to their human home. It was, however, usually a terrible idea for one reason or another. There was no point in dragging it out if she were set on going. "If you still want to go back to your human home, now is the time."

"Okay." She stood to her feet and straitened her dress. This would be a difficult day. She knew that some things in life, no matter how difficult they are to face, are things that we must face in order to move on. This was one of those things for her. Her thoughts turned and lingered for a moment to the night before. It had been a wonderful night. They had learned so much about each other, and she was beginning to trust Marc. It would be hard to put all the thoughts that were racing about her and Marc in the back of her mind, but she had to for now. This had to be done. "I feel like I need to go back just this once. I need to see." She felt like she should apologize. She could see that this was something that Marc had not expected her to ask of him.

He couldn't understand why this was important to her. Despite his inability to see why this was so important to her, he saw that it was, and that was enough that it was important to him too. "You'll have to use your senses if you don't want to be seen. Are you sure that you want to do this? It may not be like you think?"

The worry on his face was hard to ignore. She wondered if he was worried that she would want to go back. She wished she could reassure him somehow that she did not regret her decision. She could not and would not ever go back. She had made that decision the night that Marc found her. She was willing to die to leave the circumstances that she had found herself in. Nothing could make her forget that hopelessness that she had felt. There was so much to be explored in her new life. There was a whole world to understand. She had the chance to understand herself. Despite her certainty, Marc's unease made her concerned. This may not be a good idea, for his sake. She nodded that she was sure, even though part of her was not.

"Then hold on tight." He took her in his arms. A blast of wind hit them. She turned her face into his body to escape the force of it. She felt dazed for a moment, and then she heard him whisper. "Here we are."

Kate wasn't sure what had happened really, or how it had happened. One moment they were one place, and in seemingly another moment they were someplace else. The skin on her face tingled like the gush of wind had actually burned her cheeks. She should have been in shock. At the very least she should have had a hundred questions for Marc about what happened, but in that moment she didn't.

There she was staring at the house that she used to call home. It was so strange. It was like she was looking at someone else's house, like this was someone else's life. It didn't feel as menacing from the outside anymore. For once, she would appreciate the beauty of the structure of the house. It sat back from the gravel road about five hundred feet or so. It was small and quaint. She and Marc were standing just behind the house by a big cherry tree.

"Listen." He spoke so softly. She wasn't sure why but at first she felt afraid. She had many memories wrapped up here. She told herself that they had no power over her now, but still she felt the fear building slowly within her. Then, looking toward the house she fixed her gaze and focused. She closed her eyes. At first, she heard the branches shifting in the wind. She could hear the soft trickle of the creek behind them. Next, she heard footsteps, like pacing. Then, she heard his voice. It was her former husband.

"So, what am I supposed to do? The police can't find any trace of her anywhere." He was frustrated. She could see the veins in his neck and forehead that were too full from the strain of it. The rush of his blood was loud in her ears, and it took all her concentration to focus on their words.

He was speaking with a friend of his. She could recognize the voice of the other man. "Do you think she just ran off, or do you think they'll find her somewhere?"

"I don't know. She was always so damned restless." What a strange assessment of her. She had always been the opposite of that she thought. She stayed at home. She cared for his needs above her own. Before her marriage she had cared for her brothers and sisters. She had never traveled, never really dated. Maybe even though she never did anything adventurous, he had still felt that longing with in her somehow. It was strange to think that perhaps he had learned that much about her at least. Some part of him had sensed her unhappiness, and just did not care.

"Do you think that she might have known about Jessica?" The question was direct and easily understood, still she found herself repeating it multiple times in her mind. Who was Jessica?

"No, I mean how could she know? It was just a couple of times anyway." He was so sure of her ignorance on the subject. He had put his intelligence to some use it seemed. She just wished it had been for a more positive purpose than to deceive her. If he had tried equally as hard to save their marriage she wondered if it would have made a difference.

"Yeah, probably not. It was just so weird for her to take off without telling anyone about it, you know? I would have thought she would have at least said something to her family. I'm sorry man, this sucks." His coworker seemed to have a better understanding of her character. Her family had always been a top priority for her. If she had thought of any other way to escape the pain and torment she felt, she would have done anything. She never meant to hurt them. If this man that she barely knew could put together that she would have talked to them if she could, she was sure that they must think her dead too.

"It's okay. It had just gotten to be a bunch of drama with her all the time anyway. She and I hadn't been happy for a while. I hope she is okay though." He seemed so cold toward her. His concern was far less than it should have been for all she had given him.

Tears welled up in her eyes. He hadn't said anything that she didn't expect, but it still felt like a knife to her chest to hear it. It was true, every word. They hadn't been happy together for a long time. It was more about the chase for him, and once he had her, the effort that their marriage would have taken to maintain was just plainly more effort than he was willing to put in it. It was true too, that they had each come together with their own separate trust issues, and maybe they should have taken care of themselves first. They certainly weren't ready to handle being married. It hurt none the less. It felt like a huge failure. She didn't like failing or falling short at anything. The tears fell quietly onto her cheek and down her face, falling and splashing onto the ground beneath.

She had held onto a small sliver of hope that he did still love her and care for her. Then, the whole thing wouldn't have seemed like such a big mistake. Maybe he never did love her at all, but rather the idea of her. She was beautiful, charismatic, free spirited. Where did that person go? How could he have given up on her so easily? He watched her drown beneath the pain of the life they had created.

Marc stood there with her for the better part of an hour. He turned his face. It was too hard to see her crying. She listened to the conversation, trying to take it in, trying to understand it as best she could. Marc knew all too well how hard it was to let go of the guilt of past regrets. When her crying quieted, he asked her gently, "Did you find what you needed to find?"

"I think so." Her voice was only a soft whisper.

"Let us go then." He had known how hard this would be for her. It hurt to see her in pain, but he knew that she had to do whatever she needed to close this part of her life. No one's life is made up of the happy moments only, it takes the good moments along with the painful ones to shape who we are. It was hard, but she needed this, and he was happy to have been there for her. He picked her up in his arms like a child, and let her cradle her head against his chest. He took her back to his home in the wilderness.

It was good to be gone from that house. It had been her home for many years, but she was glad to be far from it. She had come to understand what Marc had meant about it not being a good idea to go back. Still, she was happy to have gained some degree of closure about it.

They arrived just outside the mansion in the side garden. It was bear with winter setting in, but was still so beautiful. The hedges were dull from the cold, but even that muted splash of color was so welcome against the grey overcast sky. Everything was essentially dead, but she could sense the blooms there still. They were waiting, resting beneath the cool ground for their time to live again. This was a time of rebirth for her too. She needed to get her thoughts together. She wanted to make the most of her new life.

When they went inside Natasha and Enric were already sitting down to lunch.

"Where have you two been off to? You left so early this morning." Enric was curious, but also there was an air of concern. He wondered where she had been, but he also worried that something was wrong for her to run off so quickly.

"I just had something that I needed to take care of, so Marc went with me." Kate gave as short an answer as she thought she could get away with. She didn't really want to talk about what had happened. She didn't want to think about it ever again.

"With such urgency? Are you going away or something?" To have only known him the lesser part of a week, Enric had certainly learned quickly to read her tone and body language.

Sensing the tension, and knowing that she would be better off to think of anything other than this morning and that house, Marc interrupted. "As a matter of fact, we are. We are planning a holiday to Paris."

Natasha's response was clearly surprised. Enrich realized that her mouth was practically gaped open and while he himself seemed jolted, he remained much more composed and continued. He stumbled over his words. "Well. Are? When? How soon are you leaving?"

Marc stabbed his food forcefully. He seemed almost annoyed at their reaction. "As early as tomorrow morning."

"So, why Paris then?" Enric was asking question after question, and none of his reaction seemed positive in the least. He seemed far more concerned than curious right now. Kate could not help but wonder what was going unsaid.

Marc recognized the growing concern on Kate's face. He put down his fork lightly and looked into her eyes as he answered Enric. "She has always dreamed of seeing Paris, and I would like more than anything to revisit our home country together."

His reasoning was sound, Enric could give him that, but anxiety and concern filled him anyway. "Do you wish our company then?"

Marc knew that Natasha had another gala to plan and that Enric needed time to adjust to his new role. It would be natural for Natasha to need time with him to work through feelings of jealousness. If she weren't jealous of Kate herself, she would have to feel the effect of the time that this new endeavor would take up. "No, you have work to do here. I'll pay a visit to Liam. He should be able to take care of whatever we need while we are away."

Liam was a long time acquaintance of Marc's. He was a physician who had often used his connections to help through difficult times. Normally it would seem strange for Marc to travel without Natasha, but given the circumstances they would have to make due. Enric was sure that Marc had a good reason for asking them to stay behind. He wanted to go with them though, even knowing that Marc would do what was best.

After lunch, Marc sent Natasha to take Kate into town to get whatever she needed for the trip. Just as they were heading out the door, Marc stopped them.

"Oh, wait!" He pulled an old Polaroid camera out of the side drawer of the entry hall table. "I need a picture for our passports."

Kate turned her head to the side, giving Marc a little bit of attitude. "I thought vampires didn't have reflections?"

He loved hearing that playful tone in her voice again, there was something about how she would lift her left eyebrow and smile at him that would have made him concede to whatever she said. "Actually, my love, as far as I know, whatever is real and present has a reflection."

The light from the flash made her wince a bit. Usually she hated having her picture taken, but she was excited to see Paris and she felt comfortable, for once, in the moment.

After Natasha and Kate were out the door, Enric approached Marc. "Forgive me, but are you sure that you should do this?" He had clearly held his tongue earlier in front of Kate. He felt he had cause for some genuine concern.

"Of course. She wants to go to France, and I want her to be happy. I want to make her happy this time, Enric. I'll do whatever it takes." Marc knew why Enric was worried, but he didn't see it as a reason for concern. He had left his maker on good terms. He was allowed to go. It was not like he ran away. Being given leave is not the same as desertion.

"What about Damian?" Enric decided to just be completely blunt. He had heard some horrific things over the years about Marc's maker. He didn't want to think that his dear friend was walking into a vipers den.

"What about him worries you so much?" Marc knew better than anyone what Damian was capable of. This wasn't about him and Damian, it was about Kate.

"He's still there isn't he, in Paris? Will you be safe to just show up there?" He needed Marc to think about this, to really truly think this through.

"If Damian wanted me dead, don't you think that I would be dead already?"

"Maybe, or maybe he prefers an ocean between you. Have you even told him that you are coming? I'm not saying don't go, I am just saying to take time to prepare for this properly."

"I see your concern." Marc sighed deeply and let his head fall back against the wall while he considered what to do. He didn't want a surprise visit to be taken as a token of disrespect. "I'll send word that I'm coming."

Marc picked up the phone and dialed several numbers. He waited a few seconds before he began to speak. "Hello, can I get the number for Darien Bertrand, Paris?" He wrote the number down on his left palm. His fingers shook a little as he punched in the next number. He didn't usually feel afraid, but before now he hadn't really had anything worth losing. "Bonjour. C'est Marc. Comment ca va? Je suis bien. I called to let you know I am planning to come to Paris this weekend." The line was silent for a moment, and then Marc continued. "Can you tell Damian that I'll be in the city? Just let me know when or if he wants to see me. Yes, this number is a good contact line. Merci beaucoup. Au revoir." After he hung up, Marc sat there in the armchair staring at the wall for a second. His eyes were focused and full, but he didn't give voice to what he was thinking.

"You did the right thing, Marc." Enric knew that if Marc was serious about Paris then it had to be with Damian's knowledge and consent. There was no other way to go about this without invoking his anger.

"I hope I have." Marc hadn't thought about Damian being a problem. He had liked to think that all of his years in service to his maker had earned him his freedom. There was a time for hope, though, and a time for reality. He knew the kind of man Damian was. He had learned that if nothing else in their time together. Things could become much more complicated than they had anticipated. Marc wasn't sure if he should bring this up to Kate or not. He didn't want to worry her for no reason. She would give up her dream of the couple at the Eiffel tower if she thought it could cause a problem for him. He didn't want her to give up anything for him. If he asked her to, then in his mind he wasn't any different than the human that took her happiness.

In town, Kate was glad to have Natasha along to guide her. She had never even been out of her home state before. She had no idea what she needed for a trip to Europe. It was different for Natasha. Travel was like a second nature to her. As they were driving in her Mercedes convertible with the top up, she was spouting off things from her mental checklist. "You'll need a good set of luggage. I've had a few sets. The one I have now is Gucci. It's really nice. Maybe we should get you that. Then, we'll need a few basic pieces for your wardrobe. We'll probably have to go by a few different places to find everything that we will need. By the way, what size are you?"

Natasha had barely taken a breath between all of those thoughts. Kate was reeling a bit still from the feeling of riding in the car. She was still getting used to all of the extra sensory perception that was part of her transition. It was very hard for her to adjust to the sensation of the car flying along the road, and Natasha's erratic driving and nonstop talking didn't help at all. It was hard to focus on what she was saying. This all seemed so surreal. She never thought that she would ever actually be going to see Paris, or that she would be shopping for designer luggage. She never dreamed that she would be the girl who at a given moment had one primary concern of finding the right pieces that she would need in her winter wardrobe. What a different life this was. Only a few days had passed and her whole life was changing.

Natasha noticed that Kate had drifted off in thought. She slowed down a little bit when she saw that Kate seemed extra pale. "Kate? What size are you?"

The sound of her name roused her from her thoughts. She saw Natasha staring at her with those big doe eyes and realized that she must have seemed very ungrateful for her company. She felt a flush of shame at the thought and tried harder to focus on what Natasha was saying. "I'm a seven." Kate took a moment to think of what she would actually like to talk about and then started again, making sure to engage herself in the conversation this time. "Natasha, what do you think about the idea of going by Aimee?" Kate couldn't help but think that this may be just what she needed. It seemed fitting that with all of the changes that were going on that a new name, or in this case, an old one, would be just the thing to help ease her into her new life. Besides, she liked the sound.

Natasha had been aiming for a more superficial conversation, but she could see that Kate was serious and wanted her opinion so she made up her mind to give it. She thought about it carefully a moment before she answered. "I think that could be good for you. There wasn't anything positive in your human life that you wanted to hang on to. There's no reason you should have to keep that name forever. If you like Aimee then I think it's a great idea. The only thing is you should call Marc before he gets the passports done though."

Natasha had some good points, and Kate was thinking the same thing. She was excited to call and tell Marc. "Can I use your phone?"

"Sure." Natasha pulled over at the first store, just a few hundred feet in front of them. She could tell Kate was feeling sick and she didn't want her to have to dial numbers while they were moving. Natasha took out her cell and dialed the number for her.

Kate smiled in appreciation. She felt like for the first time that she and Natasha may actually become good friends. Natasha was smart, and she was beautiful, but this showed her she could also be considerate. It was almost instantly that Marc picked up the phone. Kate slid right into the conversation she was so eager to hear his reaction. "Hi. I wanted to let you know before you got the passports made that I think I have decided to change something. I am thinking I may want to go by Aimee again. How would you feel about that?"

He could almost see her smiling through the phone. Marc was a little surprised at first to hear her excited about taking back her old name. It was, however, a name that he deeply cherished. He was pleased to know that she identified with it again. "I think it's wonderful. I would love you of course, by any name, but Aimee I always thought suited you best."

"Good." It was empowering to take back her name. In some small way, it helped her feel more ready to take back control of other parts of her life.

Shopping with Natasha was a little overwhelming, but it was fun to be that carefree for a little while too. Aimee couldn't remember the last time she had went shopping without worrying about how much she was spending. This was obviously, on the other hand, a pastime that Natasha was very familiar with, and very much enjoyed. It was late afternoon by the time that they got back to the house. Marc and Enric went out to help them carry everything inside. Aimee, as she now wished to be known, was standing upstairs by the bed, putting everything away inside the luggage cases when Marc caught up with her.

"Did you enjoy yourself with Natasha today?" Marc scanned the bed which was covered in anything he could perceive that a woman would possibly need or want while traveling. He came over and stood by her, smiling in amusement. It made him happy to see her so content and relaxed, especially with what had happened early that morning.

He looked kind of boyish when he smiled. She noticed his face in more detail in that moment than she had before. His features were strong and masculine. His jaw line was well defined. His lips were full and straight, and he had dimples beside his mouth that she had never noticed before. When he smiled he looked like he could not possibly be much older than twenty five. His eyes were so bright and youthful. Happy suited him well.

She had to fight to remember what his question was. "I did have fun actually. Natasha says that I have everything that I could possibly need now." She could feel it. This trip was going to be amazing.

Marc's attention fell on one thing in particular that she hadn't packed yet. "I like this one." He smiled an almost devious smile as he held up a red lace camisole.

She snatched it back from him, and felt the heat on her face as she blushed in embarrassment. "That goes under the sweaters."

"Well, that's too bad." Marc feigned a look of deep disappointment.

Aimee had rarely felt beautiful. Comments like that almost always set off feelings of shame and guilt instead of joyfulness and satisfaction. Things were different with Marc. She knew how he felt. He hadn't tried to hide it. He loved her, and it was a different kind of love than she had ever experienced. It was a selfless kind of love. He did not require anything of her in return. How far removed this was, she thought form what she had known before. She stuffed the camisole in the suitcase and zipped it up. After she finished zipping the suitcase Marc took out the passports and laid them up on top. She reached for them slowly and looked. There it was, in print, Aimee Trudeau.

"Trudeau?" She wondered what had made him choose this surname.

"Yes."

She reached for the other passport and held it up beside her own. Marc Trudeau, born in Paris, France.

Marc finally began to explain. "I guess I should have proposed to you before the marriage." He laughed, taking back his passport and sliding it into his pocket before he continued. "It's less suspicious if we travel together as man and wife."

Aimee couldn't help but smile. It did make sense. The idea of being married to him didn't scare her as much as she thought it would. Marc was sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, running his hands through her hair. It was a warm medium brown with blond highlights. She took out a box of dye from one of her shopping bags she had sat on the nightstand. She held it up beside her face to get Marc's opinion. "I was thinking that a change in color might be good for our trip to France. Do you think it will look good on me? Natasha helped me pick it out."

"Blonde?" Marc seemed genuinely surprised by her choice.

"Yeah, why not?" Now she was a little worried. She wondered if he was surprised in a good way, or in a you are going to look terrible kind of way. He didn't leave her wondering for long.

"My love," He said, pulling her close to him. He brought his face close beside her ear and whispered, "You'll be the most ravishing blonde I have ever seen."

She had never really liked people being close to her before. It had always felt like an invasion. It was different with Marc. The warmth of his whisper was comforting. He made her feel protected and loved. She liked the feel of his arms around her. He liked his presence beside her. There was a tension between them as he pulled away, like a magnetic force was trying to press them back together again. He lingered for a moment with his lips just beside hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek.

Just then, Natasha opened the door. She was looking down trying to navigate the door knob and the stack of towels and combs she was carrying. "Are you ready to do your hair now?" She didn't even notice until she was halfway in the room that she had interrupted something between them. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." She started back toward the door.

Marc stood up and held his had up to her. "No, don't go. It's alright. I was just on my way downstairs." He looked back at Aimee who was clearly embarrassed at Natasha walking in. "Come and join us when you're finished?"

Aimee nodded in agreement and kept her gaze downward. She didn't really want to look at either of them. She felt far too vulnerable for that. She and Natasha took their time talking and coloring Aimee's hair upstairs. Enric and Marc weren't sure they were coming back downstairs any time that night at all when the parlor doors finally opened.

When Aimee entered the room, the resemblance that she bore to herself in her life together with Marc was striking. The resemblance was so striking that Marc had great difficulty finding words at all. He and Enric both stood. Marc walked over to Aimee and took her hands in his own. He was captivated, and had no idea how to express himself in her presence. Slowly he brought her right hand to his lips. The kiss was gentle and soft, and seemed to echo through her whole body. "You look beautiful. I had not realized until now how much you resembled your old self in this incarnation." He took a moment to just admire her.

She smiled. She wasn't exactly sure where it came from, but she had a desire to please him. She was so happy to see that look in his eyes. It was strange for her to feel so connected to someone else.

Marc broke her concentration. "Dinner should be ready. Shall we go into the dining hall?"

"Yes," said looking deeply into his eyes. "I'm starving." By that time Aimee had become well aware of the changes she was experiencing physically. She was more aware of sounds, movement, scents, and tastes. Emotionally she was beginning to let go of her old life and embrace the essence of who her spirit was driving her to be. Her mannerisms were different. Marc had also become increasingly aware of the change in her, even down to the way she moved. She walked more lightly, almost cat like. More and more she was becoming like the Aimee he remembered. She brought back to remembrance things that had long been forgotten in the passage of time.

He noticed that over their conversation of dinner, when she was deep in thought, she would run her fingertips lightly through her hair, slowly twirling the ends. She was beginning to look at him differently. Her gaze was softer. She had begun to let down her guard. He knew that it would take time to win back her heart and her trust. It was wondrous though, to see her starting to let him in.

Enric was still dealing with all his anxieties about Aimee leaving. He was working through the storm of emotions that he had been emerged in over the past week. "Are you ready for the flight Aimee?"

Aimee turned her attention to him. "I hope so, I've never really flown before. Is there anything that I should worry about, Enric?"

"Not really. It's essentially like riding in a car, except its faster, and you get a gourmet meal. The view is also nice. It's one of a kind." Enric did not know that many people who had never traveled. He could barely remember the first time that he flew. He and Natasha had traveled back and forth from country to country countless times for business and for pleasure.

"I'm looking forward to the view, it sounds lovely. I'm a little scared, but mostly I'm excited." Aimee was looking forward to the experience of flying. She was nervous about safety, and about how she would feel, but more than that she was excited.

Natasha had been listening to the conversation in between her daintily cut bites. "I don't really understand why anyone is afraid of flying."

Enric answered her quickly, and chided her gently. "They are not afraid of flying my dear, they are afraid of falling to the ground."

Suddenly Aimee became aware of how graceful Natasha was. She had a very sexy Russian accent. She also had a way of manipulating her lips as she spoke in English that looked faintly like she was blowing a kiss. Even the way she blinked was seductive, slow, and deliberate. It was obvious that she had been accustomed to high society. She ate so delicately, flaking off a tiny piece of salmon at a time, or cutting her green beans into thirds before she took a bite. She never even smudged her lipstick. It was a rich wine color, and drew even more attention to her full lips. Aimee thought to herself, "I want to be that confident someday."

Natasha laughed softly as she tried to think of a retort, but could find none. "Ah, yes, I suppose they are." Immediately she was concentrating again on her food and only half listening to the conversation.

Enric looked over at Aimee and leaned his head in a bit. "You have nothing to worry about. Plane crashes are quite unusual. I'm sure you'll have a beautiful flight."

"Thank you, Enric. It is nice to have your assurance." Aimee knew how much Enric relished moments like these.

Enric nodded in appreciation. You could tell that he enjoyed the role of protector. Natasha smiled in amusement. He loved good conversation, and being able to lead them both in some wit and banter was his ideal way to enjoy a meal with friends.

Aimee glanced over at Marc. "You've been so quiet this evening. What is on your mind?" Marc had been unusually quiet through the entire conversation so far. It made Aimee uneasy that he had something on his mind that was so distracting.

"I'm just thinking about tomorrow. I'm excited for us to see France together." He looked up and gave her his full attention.

All of his mannerisms and speech were perfectly correct, but Aimee could tell that there was more that he was not saying. There was a dark undertow forming, just beneath his superficial answer. She would let it go, for now. She trusted him enough to know that if something needed to be said, he would say it.

# Homecoming

After dinner Aimee followed Enric upstairs for their last feeding before her trip to Paris. She wasn't as nervous this time when she entered the room and she shut the door behind her. She was more familiar with him now. With that familiarity came a feeling of comfort toward him. She had also become much more comfortable and in control of herself. She lit the candles in the gilded wall sconces beside the bed, and then sat down by Enric.

"I will miss you while you're gone." Enric tried his best to convey the sense of separation he was feeling, and how it affected him. He wanted very much to stay near her. They had just begun their friendship with one another and he enjoyed spending time with her. They were learning about one another, and he genuinely enjoyed her company.

"You don't even know me that well." She could tell by the tone in his voice that he was sincere. Despite believing his sincerity, it was hard to see how someone could really want to be near her. She had grown up so afraid, and even as an adult had learned to be so quiet and still. Her goal had always been to fall into the background, to not be noticed, so that she did not incite the rage of the men around her. Here, with them, everything was different.

"I think that I do." Enric pulled her against him, and she rested her head on his chest. "There's something real about you. It's something down to earth, something familiar. I can tell that you've lived a hard life. You appreciate things for what they are. You appreciate people for who they are. It's nice to have someone to talk to, a friend, with that kind of perspective. I'll miss it."

"You feel like you understand me, but there's so much I don't know about you." Enric had been watching her much more closely than she realized. He knew her well enough to see her pain. He also knew how to make her feel good about herself. She had not made as much of an effort in understanding him. Now, she threw her full attention into it.

"What is it that you want to know?" Enric was being coy. She had, though, asked a very open ended question. It was never generally a good idea to tell too much too fast. It never comes across appropriately that way. After all, who can tell their life story in a few sentences? There was another meaning to Enric's desire for her to be more specific. He wanted to know what it was about him that interested Aimee. He wanted to tell her the parts of his story that piqued her curiosity and satisfied her desire to feel closer to him.

"I want to know everything that you are willing to tell me." Aimee was bound to know his full story. She had neglected to ask the questions for far too long. She was asking now.

"I have nothing to hide from you, my darling." Enric looked very dapper when he smiled. He had an almost regal air about him. Despite having worked hard over the years to develop his social skills and demeanor, it was true that she could sense something within him that was born of much more humble means. There was a quiet gentleness about him, and a depth to his eyes that told of an understanding gained only from a life of overcoming hardships.

She tilted her head up slightly, letting her gaze meet his. She was ready to listen. She wanted to know who he was. There was more to him than the regal stranger who became the hero whose friendship gave her a foundation for a new life. He had given her so much of himself. He supported her life. He listened to her and comforted her. She needed more than ever to understand who he was, and how he could offer her so much so selflessly.

Enric thought quietly to himself for a few moments. It would be hard to tell a complete tale that was short enough to hold the attention of someone else and tell the most important elements that stood out in his mind. It would be hard, but he would try. "I grew up in a small fishing village in Sorrento in southern Italy. My parents married young, so they had very little money. My father was a fisherman, and he was my mother's world. Ancestry and tradition were always very important to us. I remember the food that she used to make most of all. She had this crespelle con frutta di mare that was fantastic. I loved it. She had learned the recipe from her mother, who had learned from her mother, who had learned from hers, all the way back as far as anyone could remember. It was the same with my father and his fishing. What I remember even more than that about them is how much they loved each other. They stayed in love their whole lives. No matter what the circumstances were, they always treated each other so tenderly. Even though they were poor, they were happy. So, I grew up without fortune, but with strong character and great ambition. I built my empire. It took years, but I did it. I think they would be proud if they could see." Enric was deep in thought. His smile was innocent and relaxed. He too had known what it was like to grow up in poverty, but he had held on to the memory of his parents with a wonderful fondness that overshadowed their difficulties.

Aimee's eyes had begun to fill with tears. Enric had painted such a beautiful picture of his parents. "What happened to them?"

It had been a long time since Enric had shared any details of his upbringing with someone else. The last time had probably been with Natasha. Marc had never really pressed him for such details. It was comforting to know that Aimee cared about him and was trying so hard to understand him. He continued with his story. "They lived very hard, and they enjoyed their lives. Then, they grew old. I was the youngest of eight children. They gave everything that they had to make us a strong family. We were strong, and very blessed to have had them with us. Then, they grew old and God saw fit to let them pass on."

The tears in Aimee's eyes spilled over her lower lid and ran down her cheek. The mention of God was more than she could bear. She had dealt with so many issues and worked through so much of her emotional mess, but reconciling her existence with the ideals that she had grown up with was something she had not yet accomplished. "And what has God to do with this?" She trusted Enric, and knew he would understand her silence, and the meaning of her question.

"Mio Tesoro, la mia bellezza. We are all God's creation and if you cannot feel him with you on this journey, it is you who has left him along the road." Enric tried his best to be comforting, and to be truthful to his beliefs. It pained him to see her so hurt.

This was one thing that Aimee would have to work through on her own. It was true that over the course of her life she had grown numb to many things. Meeting abusive relationship after abusive relationship, she had learned to cut herself off to her emotions. He saw into her, like Marc saw into her. They saw past the face that she put up to show the world. She wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, but she had stopped believing in love. She wasn't sure what to say or do. She wanted to hit him because he made her feel so small. She felt ashamed and angry. She also just wanted to cry in his arms and let him hold her.

"It's alright." He ran his fingers across her cheek, wiping away her tears. His voice brought her back to him. "Let's not talk anymore of this now. You have a great adventure to prepare for."

"I don't know if I'm ready." Aimee was facing her first flight with Marc, who she was just starting to get to know again. She was anxious about traveling, and about their relationship, among a thousand other worries that spun around in her mind.

"Why?" Enric couldn't see how anything would overshadow Aimee's excitement. There were so many wonderful things on the horizon for her.

"It will just be us, Marc and I. We'll be alone in this place that I've been but cannot full remember. I won't feel as safe without you. What if the hunger grows? What if I cannot control it?" Aimee's worries spilled out one right after another. Her hunger was probably the greatest of these.

"You'll be fine. Marc will protect you. You just have to trust him." Enric was sure that Marc knew what to do to help Aimee through. He had centuries of knowledge and knew what seemed like thousands of people. He had every confidence in Marc's ability to care for Aimee, and that did not even account for the love that he knew Marc had for her. He would do whatever he needed to keep her safe.

"I know you're right. It will just be so strange to be traveling and then to be away from you so soon."

"Will you write to me while you're away?"

Aimee sat up and squared her shoulders, looking Enric in the eyes. "Of course I will." The conversation had put her worries at ease. She tugged gently at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up past the wound in his side.

"You're more at ease this time." Enric took notice of how calm Aimee was in contrast to their first feeding. She was relaxed and almost eager.

"Have you been very uncomfortable?" She ran her finger tips lightly across the bite marks.

"No, the mark doesn't really hurt. It gets sore right after, but that fades." He watched her eyes. They had the prettiest purple hue since her change. It was a soft shade of lavender that seemed to glow from within when she was hungry.

"Good. Are you ready?" Aimee was glad to know that he hadn't been uncomfortable after, but her own need was quickly becoming the loudest voice in her head.

"Are you?" Enric knew what he was getting into. In his mind he was bound to her as confidant and friend for as long as she wanted him to be. He would have endured pain if it had been necessary. He just smiled at her.

"Yes." Aimee glanced up into his eyes a moment this time before she bit down. Her eyes were wild. The pupils were small and more narrow. The blue of her irises had changed, glazed over with an otherworldly glow. Her lips were flushed red, and just parting them were the tips of her protruding fangs. She was beautiful, and terrifying. Their relationship was painful, exciting, and more than he had hoped for. It confused him, but it fulfilled him too.

He didn't flinch this time. They were both more prepared. It was more enjoyable with them both relaxed like this. Their thoughts intertwined. He could sense who she was, and she sensed who he was. After a little while she was full, and his ribcage slowly fell as her bite released him. Two drops of blood pooled at the wound, and she kissed his side softly before she bandaged him. As they were leaving the room, Aimee stopped suddenly in front of Enric and turned around to look at him. "I will miss you, too Enric."

Marc was standing by the window when Aimee came downstairs. Snow was falling flake by flake lightly to the ground as he watched. There was a gentle wind blowing, but the night was still and quiet.

"What are you looking at?" Aimee had lost track of time, she hadn't wanted to rush this last feeding, and she was sure Marc had probably felt the same way. Even to go on a planned holiday can be hard when you have to leave friends behind. The house had become Aimee's sanctuary, and as much as it was difficult to think of leaving the safety of its grounds, she knew that for Marc things were amplified.

He held out his arm to her when she approached him. She took his hand, and they looked out the window together. He had been watching something, and she wanted to try and see it for herself. "The night sky is beautiful isn't it?"

"Yes. It's a lot like the night that we met again." The furrow in his brow softened at the thought. Thoughts of her had overridden any of his previous reflections. "Did you get everything packed?"

"I think so." Aimee had filled the new luggage that Natasha had picked out for her full of all the "necessities" that her new friend could imagine she would need in Paris. Most of the things were clothes, makeup, and jewelry, the value of which could easily outmatch the cost of a home in a small town. She felt more ready to leave after her conversation with Enric, but Marc's broodiness was somewhat unsettling.

"Good, we'll leave in a few hours then. We've got a bit of a drive to reach the airport. Then, we have to check in to our hotel, and of course the flight itself will be long."

Marc's eye contact was poor and it was so unlike him. She could tell that there was something much more behind this superficial conversation. "What's bothering you?"

"What do you mean?" he looked at her now, trying to avoid the question.

"I can tell that something is troubling you." Aimee reached out and grasped Marc's hand.

"I don't think it's anything to be worried about, not just yet." He tried to ease her concerns as best he could. He didn't want to scare her, or to cause her to give up on going because of something that would most likely turn out to be nothing at all.

"You don't think it's anything to be worried about, but you aren't sure?" Aimee was could not resist the urge to pry deeper into the issue. She wanted to know that Marc was doing this because he wanted to go too, and if there was something that needed to be taken care of she was feeling strong enough to be able to help him do it.

"I'll know soon." Marc knew, of course, what she was trying to do. He also knew that her sense of confidence would be as quickly crushed as it was raised. He was not going to tell her more, no matter how hard she pressed for details.

"Can I help?" Her eyes pleaded with him to find some sense of purpose toward bettering the situation that she knew nothing about.

"You already have." He meant every word, and she could see that it was true standing there looking back into his gaze. "Things had gotten so dark for me over these last few decades. I wasn't sure when I would find you again. All I knew was that I would find you, because I would never stop looking. Then, when I finally did, you were newly married. My heart broke. When things fell apart for you in your mortal life, they began to come together for us. I can feel again because of you. As selfish as it sounds, having you with me has brought me back to where I was before things went so wrong. You mean everything to me. I can't live without you."

They had spoken about so many things since that night by the lake. They had talked of philosophy, and dreams. They had spoken of the hardships that they had faced. They had discussed friendships and the supernatural. They had even gone over and over again how things would be after her change. The one thing that had not delved deeply into was the topic of the two of them, and their relationship, and where things would stand when all of this was done. He knew how he felt, but her thoughts were still so hard for him to read at times. Waiting for her to speak seemed like an eternity.

"You don't have to." She tightened her grip on his hand, and then continued. "I felt so hopeless that night. It means a lot to me to know that there was something else, something more to my life. All the things that alienated me when I was younger, all those things were part of who I really am, just like you're a part of me. I can see that, I can feel it."

"I love you, Aimee." He had held back so long in saying it. He didn't want her to feel like he was suffocating her. She had spent so much of her life being controlled. He would not push her. He would be patient, no matter how difficult it was at times.

"I know you do, Marc." She could acknowledge his feelings for her, but expressing her own was nearly impossible. Even trying to feel or understand her emotions was something foreign. She was trying though, and Marc could appreciate that.

He drew his face toward hers, slowly and with some hesitation. He didn't want to rush her, and after all those dark years it was hard to let himself be so open. Only their lips touched, but their kiss could not have been more passionate. It was warm and radiated through them both. It was familiar and comforting, but also hot and electric. All those years ago, he had promised that he would never leave her. In some way, he had made things right between them. He realized that her spirit had gone through just as much heartache as his had. They both had scars from traveling through life apart for so long. It may not have been perfect, being what they were, but they were together. For now, that was all that mattered. He held her there in his arms as they stood in front of the window for nearly half an hour. It seemed like forever since they had held each other like that. It had been lifetimes ago.

While they watched the snow softly falling, they saw two wolves enter the field from the edge of the woods. They moved swiftly, in perfect sync with one another. As they reached the edge of the forest, on the other side of the field and turned, it was like they were looking directly at Marc and Aimee.

He smiled in recognition of the sign. "They're a good omen."

"Really?" Aimee had never known much about omens really. Her grandparents watched for signs, but most of that pertained to gardening and the moon phases.

"Yes. He's always been alone. I've watched him for years. It seems that now he has found his soul mate as well."

Aimee put her had on the glass and leaned in for a better view, but they had already disappeared into the trees. Marc guided her away gently by the hand, "Come, it's time to go."

The flight was pleasant enough. Aside from Edward's cooking, she had never eaten anything that well prepared. It made her glad that Marc had splurged for first class seating. Though take off was somewhat scary, she enjoyed sitting there close to Marc, holding his hand and talking. They talked about so many things, mostly unimportant things like making up stories about the people that they had seen in the airport, or a few of the people who were with them on the plane ride.

Aimee pointed to a woman a few rows ahead of them. "I wonder what she used to do for a living?"

Marc could see that she was pointing discreetly to a woman in a daring print dress. He thought about his answer for just a few seconds, "I'm sure that when she was young she was a stage performer. She carries herself well, with square shoulders and her chin high. She likes to be noticed. She is well put together. See how each curl is sprayed securely in place, and how carefully her make-up is done?"

"She's like a doll." Each of his observations was accurate, and the attention to detail that he had from one quick glance was impressive. It was fun to pretend and be silly for a while. When they bored with that game, he pulled out a book from his carry on case. It was a smaller book, black, with a beautiful picture on the cover, "King Vikram and the Vampire, by Captain Sir Richard F. Burton." She flipped through it careful not to damage the binding. It seemed to be a collection of short stories.

She found one whose title caught her attention, and after reading it she handed the book back to Marc, pointing out the story she had chosen. Marc took the book from her, curious to see which page had caught her attention. He smiled when he read the first few lines, and then looked up at Aimee. "What interests you about this one?"

Marc always chose interesting books. He had the best collection of stories from around the world. Aimee loved to read them. More than reading them, she loved that he appreciated the artistry of it. He had mostly older editions with hard leather bound covers. Their settings were exotic, and their plots were edgy. This book was no exception. Those were the things that caught her interest about this particular story. "I like what he says about love, and about giving all of himself. It's too bad that he's asked the prince to abandon that view."

"Is it wrong to protect your heart?" Marc knew what questions to ask to provoke Aimee to deeper thought. It seemed to often take those kind of questions to get her to reveal her true thoughts about things, even with literature.

"No, of course not, but you can't simultaneously guard yourself and love openly. There is vulnerability in love." So there it was, Aimee wanted the kind of love that made her feel safe showing some vulnerability. She wanted an all-encompassing kind of love.

"Yes, there is." Marc knew that when she loved him again, fully committed to loving him again that he would have her whole heart, just like she had his. He smiled, full and real. The moment could not come soon enough.

Aimee understood the point that he was making. He always seemed to do that. Rather than tell her something outright, he would guide her into her sort of self-realization of it. He knew just what to say to provoke her thoughts. She was growing tired after so many hours without sleeping, so she pulled out a blanket and leaned over against Marc to rest. They slept there leaned into one another for the next few hours until the plane landed.

After the plane landed, they gathered their things and went outside to find Liam. He was their ride to the hotel. The air was cool and crisp. It was evening, so the sun had begun to dim, hovering just above the horizon.

"So, what's he like?" Aimee wasn't worried about meeting Liam. She knew from meeting Enric and Natasha that Marc was a pretty good judge of character. She was very curious though about what Liam would be like, and if he would like her.

"I've known him for some time. He is very smart, and he cares a lot about other people. I trust him." Mark paused for just a second, lost in memory. "He has been a good friend to me over the years."

"Is he like us?" She wondered if Liam was a vampire, or if he were human.

"No." His answer was short and incomplete. It was obvious from the look in his eyes that there was more to that story. Aimee decided not to press him about it right then, she was too excited about being there finally in Paris.

A tall man with brown hair and bright green eyes pressed himself through the crowd and stood right in front of them. Aimee had noticed him from a few feet off. He was tall, and stood well above the crowd he moved through. He didn't meet their eyes until he got close. Right away he was speaking to Marc. "Marc, bonjour! Ca va?"

"Oui ca va, et toi?"

Marc was so glad to see his friend again that he forgot for just a second to introduce Aimee who was peering out from behind his left shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry. Liam, this is Aimee."

"Nice to meet you, Aimee." He kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Nice to meet you." Aimee took a moment to look him over. He was calm and collected. He seemed pleasant enough in that first impression. He was a doctor, so his social skills were alright, but there was a raw edge to his conversation that she could not manage to put her finger on. He spoke quickly, challenging Aimee to improve on her French language skills. He drove a nice car, and of course was living in Paris, so she knew he must make an okay living. He was handsome and tall, but much leaner and lankier than Marc. He was almost too thin. His charisma made up for what he lacked in conventional handsomeness. He had a very strong presence. It was clear why he was one of Marc's closest friends.

"I appreciate you picking us up." Marc moved to lift their suitcases from the ground so they could leave.

"Anything for an old friend." Liam took Aimee's bag and carried it for her. He had a chivalrous side.

It took some time in traffic, but finally they arrived at the hotel. It was beautiful, situated in the middle of a row of high end stores. Busy city life was all round, but inside the hotel it was charming and serene. Right when you entered the corridor there was a front desk. Behind the desk was a large chandelier hanging over the winding staircase. What a beautiful building. You could tell that it had a story. The stones on the outside were thick and gray. Ornate woodwork and murals decorated the inside. Aimee was in awe. "It's breathtaking. It doesn't feel like a hotel."

"Very intriguing isn't it?" She knew that Marc would appreciate the architecture. "You can feel the effort and thought that was put into it."

"When was it built?" She knew that he would know. He had seen Paris spring up from nothing. He took special interest in each building as if it were a piece of art.

"It was built at the turn of this century. Come on, our room is this way." How strange it was that he said "at the turn of this century" instead of "at the turn of the century." Sometimes Aimee could easily forget the age difference between them, except in moments like these. He led her up one flight of stairs and into a hall. "Our room is 107. Here it is three doors on the left."

He didn't make her wait, he slipped the key into the door and it was open as she rounded the corner. The room was so beautiful, absolutely amazing, just like the rest of the hotel had been. The draperies were heavy, with a fine shimmering silk top fabric. There was a sitting area with two clawed feet chairs as you entered, and a kitchenette off to the right. The bedroom was serene, dressed in the finest white linen. There on the nightstand she saw a bouquet of pink roses and a message tied with a red ribbon. Aimee walked over and picked up a single rose. She loved the scent of roses. They had the softest, most elegant bloom. She had always been drawn to them, especially pink roses. She pulled loose the ribbon and opened her letter:

"My Love,

I will see to it that all your dreams come true. Meet me outside at 7:00pm tonight. There is a dress in your armoire.

Forever yours,

Marc"

He had put so much effort into planning this trip. She was excited for tonight, but she also knew that this meant he would be leaving her for a while.

"What is that?" Liam tried to act like he didn't know what was going on. Judging from his smile, he had been a trusted accomplice in not only throwing together the trip, but in placing her beautiful surprise. He had a friendly smile. It was one of those smiles that was infectious to anyone around.

"Apparently I'm going out tonight." Aimee let the happiness show in her face. They had put a lot of effort into pleasing her with this surprise, so she wanted to let her pleasure in it show. It was hard for her, even now to express positive emotions. She made up her mind to make more of an effort.

Marc came over and kissed her on the cheek. "I have to take care of some things, but I'll be back at 7:00 sharp. Just ring the front desk if you need anything."

Part of her wanted to beg him to stay with her. She didn't want to be separated from him, especially so soon after arriving in France. She felt vulnerable still in so many ways, and so much more afraid when he wasn't near her. Still, she knew that he wouldn't do this unless he had to, and clearly he wanted to protect her by keeping the reason to himself. It might not even be something negative. She tried hard to remind herself. She replied with a simple, "okay," trying to be as alright with it as she could. In a way, it was nice to have some time alone to take things in. Just being there was overwhelming on its own. Aimee fell back onto the bed, letting herself sink into it. He was already making her dreams come true in so many ways. She tried to focus on her anticipation. She couldn't wait to see what he had planned.

# Blood Red

Aimee stood outside rocking heel to toe, heel to toe. It was three minutes until seven. The dress that he had chosen for her was a black vintage Valentino dress. It was sleeveless, but since the night air was cool, she wore a shawl. Her shoes were a deep red. They had a heel, but it wasn't too high. They looked expensive, she thought looking down at them. She would have never chosen such an outfit for herself, but it did make her feel quite good. The way that the fabric hugged her body was very sensual. She left her hair down. It fell by her shoulders in cascading blonde waves. She felt pretty. It had been a while since she had been able to say that.

Marc pulled up in Liam's car one minute before seven. He looked very handsome in his suit. As inviting as his smile was, she could tell by the blank pause that preceded it that the dress may have looked even better on her than it had on the rack. She had a quick moment of worry and insecurity. She fought the urge to wrap the shawl around her more tightly, but instead she smiled back and tried to enjoy the obvious effect that she had on him. He appreciated her appearance, just as he appreciated her spirit, and there was nothing wrong with that.

"Come on." He extended his hand to her like a gentleman.

She paused for just a second before taking his hand. "Where are we going?"

"Now, I can't tell that. Can I?" Marc loved seeing this light hearted side of her. It had been in short rare glimpses that she had let down her guard as much as she had since arriving in Paris. This trip meant as much to him as it did to her. He wanted to draw out and relish each moment.

"You could." Aimee had never been one for surprises. She tried to focus on the fact that she always enjoyed Marc's surprises, instead of on the anticipation. That internal feeling had never in the past been a signal of anything good. It was almost like she was having to rewire herself to react to things differently.

"Oh, but it would ruin the surprise." Marc was not about to give in to her on this. They drove a short distance and then Marc pulled over.

"Why are we stopping?" She tried to look around and get a feel for where they were. She didn't recognize any of the landmarks that she could see.

Marc reached beside the seat and pulled out a piece of thick red ribbon. He handed it to her and said, "Tie this around your eyes."

She hesitated. This was definitely pushing things. "I want to see where we're going." She went to hand the ribbon back to Marc, but he wouldn't take it.

"It's part of the surprise. Just trust me." His request sounded simple. He couldn't have asked anything more difficult of her. This would have been such a small thing, probably even an enjoyable and fun thing to most people. It wasn't for her. Her hands were shaking. With a deep breath she took the fabric and tied it carefully around her eyes.

Marc started the car back up and they drove a short distance before the car came to a stop again. "Wait a moment and I'll help you out."

She let out the breath that she had been holding sharply. "You want me to get out of the car with this on my head?"

He reached in gently and braced her arm against his, supporting her as she stood up. "Yes, I do."

"Well, you are out of your mind." She could feel the burst of cool air on the back of her legs as the car door shut. She balked in place, refusing to step forward.

"A little." He slipped his left arm around her waist and guided her onto the sidewalk. She paid attention to each sound around her, her heel on the concrete, the wet fall of a misty rain. Through the ribbon she could see the bright light of the streetlights that lined the walkway. She didn't hear any people. She wasn't sure if this was comforting or scary. They walked inside a building. The floors were some type of ceramic or marble. The air was warmer in here. She could hear the sound of the elevator coming to a stop on their floor. When it opened she could hear a couple speaking in French. They moved past them. When the elevator stopped and the door opened again, she could feel the cold wind hit her face. They were on a balcony or a rooftop.

"Here we are," Marc said as he untied the blindfold.

Aimee could not believe it when she opened her eyes. There they were, on a balcony off the side of the Eiffel Tower. This was even more beautiful than the hotel, and much more striking in person than she had ever imagined. Her heart was racing and her breaths were faster and faster. She was here. For years she had fantasized about coming here and now it was all coming true.

Marc leaned forward a little, no matter how many times he had seen Paris it always struck him with such wonder. Then, he looked over at Aimee. "How do you like the view?"

"More than I had even imagined." Her face was beaming with childlike excitement. "It's amazing, wonderful, and absolutely amazing." Her eyes were still adjusting, and with each passing moment she noticed another awe inspiring detail. There was so much to take in. "Thank you so much for bringing me." Aimee reached her arms around Marc and hugged him tightly into her. She kissed his cheek lightly and then pulled back to look into his eyes. It had felt better than she imagined, standing there with their arms wrapped around each other. She felt really loved, for the first time in a long time. "I want to kiss you."

"So kiss me." His words were soft, but she could feel him fighting to hold himself back. His lips touched hers just barely, and she let her head fall back into his hand. His other arm was around her waist, and he was pressing her body into his. She had never felt a kiss so encompassing. Time seemed to stop, and for that moment it was like they were the only people in all of Paris. She was letting herself fall for him. It was terrifying, but it also felt good to let herself fall into someone else for once.

They stood up there for the longest time, enjoying the view and holding one another. When they finally got back down to the car, they hadn't had the chance to start the engine before Marc's phone went off. He looked down and his laugh became a concerned scowl. "I have to take this. Excuse me a minute?"

"Sure." Aimee looked down at her hands. She wasn't entirely sure what to think about what just happened. She had kissed him. She had never really dated, so that in itself was strange enough. More than that, it had easily been the most passionate kiss that she had ever had in her life. She had never felt about anyone the way that she felt about him. It was so scary, the idea of falling so completely in love. She wanted to trust him. In doing that though, she would be letting him have her love completely. She hadn't quite begun to weigh the balance of things when Marc returned to the car. The worry was written all over his face. He rubbed his hands over his face, running them up and through his hair. His breath was heavy. "What is it?"

"I need to talk to you about something." His words were flat. She could tell that he was trying to regain control of his breathing and expression.

"You can talk to me about anything." Aimee said the words, and she hoped that they were true.

"I'm so sorry that I didn't talk with you about this sooner. I honestly did not think that it would matter. I thought that with all the time that has passed things would be settled, amicable." He looked at her and she could see the doubt in his eyes.

"What? Tell me." She knew that it must be really bad because he would not look her directly in her eyes. Even though she had his hands in hers now, he looked above and behind her. He had always looked her square in the eyes before. He had never kept himself from her.

"It's Damian, the one who turned me. He has summoned us." Marc's face fell.

Tears welled up in Aimee's eyes. "What?! He's here, he's in Paris?" She had no idea what it meant to be summoned, but by Marc's reaction to everything she knew that this would be bad. This would be very bad and she would not be able to do a thing to stop it.

Marc's lips parted to allow for the heavy breaths. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought you here."

"If I had known I wouldn't have come." She dropped his hands and leaned back. She was dizzy. Just a few moments ago she was on top of the world. Now, she couldn't even think. "When?" was the only question ringing in her mind.

"Tonight." Marc looked forward. "It could just be curiosity. Seeing us should satisfy that."

"What should I expect?" She tried to hide the fear, but even though she kept her voice steady, her body quivered.

Seeing her tremble, Marc wrapped his arms around her and held her. "It's going to be alright. Don't worry." He kissed her gently on the top of her head. He didn't want to let her go. He didn't want to move at all. He had brought her here with all the best intentions. He hoped that he wouldn't regret that decision. Still, he knew that he had to prepare her. He needed to be honest with her. "He likes to intimidate. Try not to let him see your fear. Answer his questions directly. He'll know if you are trying to be evasive. Most of all, please remember that I love you and I'll be right there with you."

Aimee could not focus on Marc's love, not right now. She had to get ready to meet the monster. You can't show weakness in the company of a demon. There was a part of her that was well versed in such interactions. That side of her rose quickly, like a stone version of her other self. She was cold, and hard, and knew exactly what to do to survive. She pulled away from Marc. "We'd better go. He doesn't sound like the type that likes to be kept waiting." Aimee leaned back into her seat, dropping the red blindfold on the sidewalk through the open window. It spiraled to the concrete slowly catching glints from the street light on its satin surface.

The ride from the Eiffel Tower to Damian's was not nearly as fun as their previous ride had been. Thoughts pressed hard against them both. There was silence and heaviness between them. Aimee didn't know a lot about Damian, but the stories that Marc had shared were horrifying. They were far worse than nightmares, and Damian had seemed worse than the devil himself. The ride seemed like forever, it would have been hard for her to determine exactly how much time had passed.

Damian's chateau was fine to say the least. It towered three stories above them. By the light of the moon, the stones were nearly black. The night added to the sense of imminent darkness. Aimee had stopped shaking by now. She was sitting beside Marc, but there was a wall between them. Neither of them really knew what to expect. They walked up slowly to the door, unaware of their steps, transfixed on the door ahead.

Marc raised his hand to knock, but a woman opened the door before he had the chance. She was tall and thin, dressed in an evening gown that hugged every slight curve. "He has been expecting you." She motioned for them to enter.

Inside, people lined the walls. Some reclined in chairs or leaned against the wall itself. Their smiles were not friendly. They were eerie and almost scornful. The woman at the door walked ahead of them, leading them. Against the back of the great hall was a grand staircase, and making his way down it was a tall man with long dark hair that fell just above his shoulders. His eyes were amber, light brown with flecks of flashing fire. She could feel his gaze, hot, on her as he made his way to the bottom of the staircase. By physical standards alone, he was not at all unpleasant to look at. He had strong broad shoulders, and a lean waist. His skin was tan with an olive undertone. She knew that despite his complexion, he couldn't have basked in the sun for centuries. He was handsome in a way, but you could not ignore the dark shadow that followed him. It was a calm pervading sadness. It settled over him, and he felt so much a part of it. He owned it, and somehow it seemed to only enhance the power of his presence. He looked directly at Marc. "Good evening, Marcus."

Marc looked directly at him, never breaking eye contact, even as he bowed. "Good evening, Damian." The air was tense and smothering. The pause that followed their hellos was long and uncomfortable.

Damian broke contact with Marc and looked directly at Aimee who was standing behind her. "What is she wearing?"

"It's Valentino. We were at the Eiffel Tower when you called." Marc was quick in his reply.

"It's too short." He looked behind his shoulder and spoke to three women standing behind him. "Take her upstairs to change. She can meet us in the parlor when you've found her something," there was another short pause before he continued, looking directly at her "More agreeable." His eyes scanned her body. He hadn't even given Marc time to introduce her, nor did he seem to care. She was annoyed at his tone. What did he mean by that? She liked the dress, and who was he to tell her to change? Even so, for Marc's sake she bit her tongue.

The women were attentive to every word that he spoke, beautiful, but there was something about them too that was off. "Of course." They must comply with his every command. What had he done to gain such devotion? Damian led Marc into the parlor and she followed the women upstairs. They never said a word to her the whole way up the winding grand staircase. They were wearing evening gowns, like the woman at the door. Their hair was done perfectly, and around each of their necks was a different precious jewel, coordinated with their eye color. It seemed Damian's tastes were consistent. The women could have graced the cover of any fashion magazine, but there was a horrible darkness about them that made Aimee cringe. They led her to a room at the end of the hall full of gorgeous gowns. Immediately they began going through the dresses before deciding finally with one another on a strapless burgundy gown. "Here we are, this one is perfect."

Normally Aimee would have said thank you, but she was in no way grateful to be treated like she was, and they didn't seem like the kind to care about being polite anyway.

"Take that off." Now, they were barking orders at her. She waited for them to leave, but they didn't move. "Take that off." Reasserting their order let Aimee know that they did not intend to go anywhere and that they expected to be obeyed. Grudgingly, she complied. It was embarrassing standing in front of them like that, whit them able to stare at her. The room was large and a cold draft swept through, causing her to tremble. It made her mad that they could think she was afraid. She was not afraid of them. Perhaps she should have been. After taking off her dress, one of the women picked it up. Another of the three told her, "take it downstairs with her other things." The woman with the red hair disappeared from view with her black Valentino dress that she loved. This left her in front of the remaining two women, naked and shivering. They picked up the burgundy gown and helped her to put it on. When they were finished, they began to fuss with her hair. They left it half up and half down, in a way that was similar to their own hairstyles. Lastly, they pulled a large amulet from a drawer in the armoire. It echoed her eye color when she fed. It had blue undertones with a flash of vibrant lavender. After they fastened the amulet around her neck and it was time to go back downstairs Aimee followed behind them. Her heart was heavy with an unshakable sense of dread about the evening to come.

While Aimee was upstairs, Marc seized the opportunity to have a one on one with his once dear friend. "Why have you asked us to come here?"

"We're friends aren't we?" Damian picked up a bottle of jack and began pouring two drinks into thick glasses that sad on the bar. Marc did not answer. It was very obvious that their friendship had deteriorated. They had broken company with one another many years ago.

"What is it that you want, Damian?" Marc got straight to the point.

"I want to have a nice evening together, Marcus. It's time we catch up."

"Don't be coy." Marc was in no mood for games.

Damian squared his frame toward Marc, handing him a glass of the jack. He rather enjoyed games, but if Marc was in a poor mood, he could get down to the wire too. "Do you have any idea what it's done to my reputation, letting you live there in the Americas separate from the covens? I have been very gracious. And now, here you are in Paris, with her, playing tourist."

The mention of Aimee made Marc fiercely protective. "You of all people must know what she means to me."

Damian ignored the comment about Aimee, another issue had drawn his attentions. "You lived there in those mountains all that time without so much as even sending me a postcard. That hurts my feelings, Marcus." He took a drink of his liquor and then looked at Marc. "Tell me, did you think that I was ignorant of your little arrangement? It's a mockery. It is not our way!" Damian raised his voice. Not to a yell, but loud enough to clearly convey his displeasure. His glass slammed hard onto the side table.

"What is it that you want, Damian?"

"I want what belongs to me." He ran his finger around the edge of the glass as he thought, and then he leaned forward and looked up. His eyes met Marc's. "I want respect. I want obedience. I want glory. This world is ours for the taking, and as you know, I am not one to slumber when opportunity knocks. First though, I'm going to clean house."

Fear shook through Marc. He knew the meaning behind Damian's cryptic messages. He had delivered the punishment to those who displeased his maker. He may have bent to his will had he been alone, maybe even offered some kind of homage. He was not alone. Aimee was here, and he had brought her into this den of wolves. He would get her out. "I have meant you no disrespect. I obeyed your commands, fighting by your side for centuries. I have bled for your glory. Have I not earned some peace?"

"Not until I am finished."

"Your thirst will never be quenched." Marc knew the depth of Damian's depravity. He would not be pushed into that world again. He had more to live for. He had Aimee. He would not keep her near Damian.

"It does not mean that I can't try." Damian laughed to himself. He had always enjoyed inflicting pain. "Besides, dear friend, there is so much pleasure yet to be had."

"I don't want what you want, Damian. I just want to be left alone." Marc knew that Damian did not like to be refused, but there was no other answer than no.

"Then you should have died there on that field. Where is your hunger, your desire for life? Where is your passion? For her? You're dreaming. Love is fleeting. Power and respect, those are eternal, Cwn Annwn. You are still the Hellhound, aren't you?"

Damian knew his darkest sins. He would not come when called, not this time. "If you truly felt that way, then you don't know the bond I have with her."

"There is no bond that cannot be broken, and no union lasts forever."

"Have you never loved?" It was strange that in all the time they had known each other, Marc had never asked that question nor had the answer been happened upon on its own. He knew very little of his savior, of his mentor. He assumed that Damian's lineage had originated in Romania, since he had taken him there after he was turned. He could have also come from Spain, since that was where his main home was at the time. Damian had never spoken of his distant past, before he became a vampire, and Marc had never before pressed him for it.

Damian paused longer than usual. He seemed uncomfortable. "Once. That is how I know that love, like many things, is relative."

Just then, Aimee walked through the doors. Marc rose to his feet, as did Damian. "He has some manners then at least," Aimee thought to herself.

He looked her over, and then spoke to the women who had accompanied her. "She looks beautiful, thank you."

Aimee was beginning to get used to him talking past her. She hated the way that he looked at her. He made her feel like she was standing there naked. She could tell that he was used to having people cater to his enjoyment.

Marc must have been pretty fed up with things too. The irritation was written across his face. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes had grown hard and cold. "You're wasting time, Damian. It's getting late, and I am growing tired of your games."

Just then, the doorbell rang. Damian flashed an eerie smile, and began walking toward the closed parlor doors. Looking back at them he answered, "On the contrary, our guests are just arriving."

Aimee could hear the sound of footfalls in the next room. Busy voices had gathered around the visitors. She listened intently to all of the "Oh, hello's," the "so glad you could come's" and the "thank you so much for having us over's." When she reached the doorway, she could see that it was a group of young men and women. They looked nice, all dressed formally. They were enthusiastic about being there in the house, smiling and laughing. Everyone sat around the living room and started having cocktails, served of course, by the trio of beautiful women who had assisted her earlier. They appeared to be mostly from the local colleges. They had been invited by some of Damian's followers, or "friends" as he called them.

"This house is incredible," she heard one of the young men say.

Damian replied, "Feel free to explore as you'd like. I'll call when it's time for dinner."

Some of the people remained in the front hall, while others disappeared upstairs with their drinks. Some were soon arm in arm with one of Damian's numerous friends. All of them were having a great time at the party.

Marc used the distraction to find a quiet corner in the parlor to talk with Aimee. "Are you okay?"

He could read the stress of all of this easily on her face. "No, I hate him! I don't know why it's so hard for me to play nice, but everything about him offends me."

Marc grabbed her hand and began to lead her out of the room. "I don't care if it pisses him off, let's just go." Then, they heard the screams. There were groups of people trying to run to the large front doors. It was chaos. The humans were afraid, so very afraid, and their fear ripped through Aimee in unsettling waves.

Damian was making his way down the stairs again. He jumped the banister about a third of the way down from the top and landed on his feet on the floor below. He pounced on one girl who was almost to the foyer. He tore through her throat, immobilizing her for others to feed upon. He spotted Aimee and Marc when he looked up and began walking toward them wiping the blood calmly from his mouth on a towel from the buffet in the parlor room. "Follow me, it's time for dinner."

It would have been impossible to run. Damian had already demonstrated his own power, and the sheer number of followers that he had would have been enough to hunt them down quickly. Without any other option, they followed Damian up the staircase. They walked down a hall, lined in hardwood paneling, like the one downstairs.

Even in the broad hall, they had to step over the bodies that were being fed upon to keep moving forward. The look in their eyes as their life was slipping away was so haunting and horrible. He led them through a bedroom, and onto a large balcony. There, Damian and his friends had cornered a young man. He was swinging a chair leg that he had broken off to fight back with. The body of a girl ways lying at his feet, his girlfriend probably. Her head was barely still attached.

Damian looked at Marc and Aimee, still beaming with his terrible smile, "He's yours. Bon Appetite!" It was clear what he wanted them to do.

"I can't do this!" Aimee thought to herself.

Then, she heard Marc speaking to her. "You can. We have to or they'll kill you. The boy is dead either way. I'll grab the right side of his throat and hold him down. You grab the left. I'll bite first, and I promise you that he will be dead before you even sink your teeth in."

There was no time to argue. The others had already begun to gather around them. They were like a pack of ravenous wolves. It must be done. Marc lunged skillfully at the boy, biting his arms out to the side. He sunk his fangs in deep, slashing his jugular. She bit deep into the other side and began to drink. Aimee could feel the boy's body jerk as Marc pulled back, opening the wound wide. The boy did die quickly. Still, his expression flashed in her mind. His face would haunt her.

When it was over Damian walked up to them. "So, you are vampire then, my beauty?"

This was the first time that Damian had spoken directly to Aimee. She ignored him and walked past him with Marc, calm, blood dripping down her dress, out to their car parked on the street.

# Never Let Go

Aimee went straight to the bathroom when they got back to the hotel, and shut the door. She turned on the shower full force. It had been a long time since she had needed to purge anything. She remembered every step, every small detail of the ritual. It was all that filled her thoughts. She was horrified at what she had seen, and more so by what she had done. She took a towel from the back of the toilet and rolled it twice, laying it on the floor below the toilet. She took another and wet it a little under the water, and then knelt down onto the floor. She used the back of her toothbrush to gag herself. Her fangs were too sharp to use her hand. Then, she emptied the blood from her stomach. He was the first man that she had ever killed. It did not give her a sense of strength, or power, only a stronger awareness of the darkness around her. The blood came up with such force that pain shot through her abdomen, but in another way the sensation felt good. She had no control in Damian's presence. This was a way to defy him. He had not won. He was an animal and she would never let herself be like him. Tears flooded down her face. She used the towel to clean her mouth while she watched the blood swirl away down the bowl. After sitting there for a moment, she crawled into the hot shower. Aimee sat there, looking at a fixed point on the wall, unable to move.

It wasn't long before Marc came in, he didn't say a word. The black from her mascara rand down her face in two dark streams. Marc knew what she was feeling. He had felt it too, the first time that he took a life. It changes you. He took his shirt off and sat down beside her, still in his trousers, and her still in her evening gown. The water ran red and black, circling the drain. He put his arms around her and held her. He didn't say a word. She barely noticed that he was there at first because her mind was so overwhelmed by what was happening. After a few minutes, she became aware that he was there beside her. She felt secure in his arms. Aimee pressed her face into his chest and looked up to face him. There was so much sadness in his eyes. He blamed himself for what had happened. She didn't want him to. If tonight hadn't happened, Damian would just have organized something else, maybe something even worse.

"I love you," she said finally, low and soft. Her gaze never wavered.

Marc had waited so long to hear her say those words again. It was overwhelming. She meant them, he knew that. He had needed to hear her say those words more tonight than ever. He just wanted to look at her, to take in the moment and hold it forever.

"I love you," she said again pressing her lips to his as they stood up.

Marc turned to her so that the water fell across his back and shoulders, shielding her from the falling drops. He liked the look in her eyes when she said those three words. For so long, he had wondered what it would be like to really have her back, not just to physically be in his presence again but to really be with him again, mind, body, and spirit. He could not remember being so happy, bust for having earned her love and her trust. He ran his fingers along her face, wiping away the marks that her tears had made. Oh, if she only could look at him like that forever. He pulled her close to him, kissing her tenderly as he undid the back of the burgundy gown. She looked so beautiful, with her hair half drenched, no makeup, all undone.

She grabbed his waist and pulled him back into her, unclasping the buckle on his belt. She smiled softly, he couldn't help but mirror it. He had never been with another woman. In all that time, all his life, it was only her. It was hard for him to restrain himself. He adored her, every inch of her, every curve, and every tiny flaw. Her skin was so soft to his touch. The sensation of it drove him to madness.

He kissed down her jawline and neck; lingering at the spot he bit her. The life they had chosen would not be easy, but he did not regret it, not in this moment when he knew they were together again. He had longed for this very instant. It had been worth all the wait, all the pain, just to have her back in his arms again. She belonged here with him. He had never known something more certainly.

Looking up into his eyes, she noticed something she hadn't before. There were flecks of so many colors, blue, green, and tiny flashes of gold. There was a need rising in him that he had hidden well from her. He had been waiting for this, for her, for so long. She had always dreamed of finding a love like this. Some part of her spirit had imprinted it within her and never let it go, even through all those lifetimes. It resonated through her. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her. Nothing else mattered now except that they were together.

He ran his hands down her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him. It was amazing. She never knew that sex could feel like this, and that it could be about love and nothing else. It was hard not to close her eyes and be lost in it. He kissed her temples, bringing her gaze back to meet his. They felt perfect together, like they were part of the same being. He read her eyes. He wanted to please her. The water beat down, and the steam rose around them, intensifying the heat as it flowed in between them in a wave almost too intense to bear. He closed his eyes once, and when he opened them again they flashed, his pupils contracting and relaxing with each heartbeat. She wondered if her eyes echoed the same. They breathed deeply, fast, in sync with each other. Her arms were wrapped around him. She ran her hands up and down his back, digging eight long scratches with her nails. They called out together in pleasure, and he breathed out a deep sigh. He rested his head on the wall behind her, using the strength he had left to pull her in tighter against him. Now that he held her in his arms, he was determined never to let her slip away.

# A New Day

The midday sun broke through brightly from the window. It reflected off of the white sheets, intensifying the light that flooded in. It moved steadily into the room, across the floor, up the footboard, and over the bed. It rested on Marc's face. He still slept. Aimee had never seen him look more peaceful, or more relaxed. He had been so patient, so persistent in believing that they would be together again. She wondered if she would have had so much faith if it had been her pursuing him. There was so much left still that she did not know or understand about herself. As she sat there thinking about what she knew, and all that she would like to come to know, she realized how blessed she was that she knew one thing for sure- She was loved. He loved her. This was what it felt like.

There was a quiet knock at the door of their suite. Aimee wrapped herself in a sheet from the bed and walked out into the living area. She stood on the tips of her toes to see through the peep hole. It was Liam. He was carrying some coffee and a bag.

"Bonjour, Aimee."

"Bonjour, Liam. Come on in. You can sit down, I'm just going to go and grab my robe."

When Aimee came back out in her robe, Liam was sitting at the table. He had set out breakfast for them. "Where's Marc?"

"Sleeping." Aimee fussed with her hair, trying to straighten in down with her fingers.

Liam smiled, "It's been years since he's slept properly. Good for him."

She could feel a flush of blood in her cheeks. She was sure he knew what had happened, and for a moment she was embarrassed. A change of subject seemed like a good idea. "Have you known him long then?"

"A while." Liam was not giving up that schoolboy stare.

Clearly Aimee would have to try again. She scanned the table. She was starving. "What have you got there?"

"Breakfast. I thought that you must be hungry by now." Liam had set out three cups of coffee, and some croissants. Out of a small paper bag, he pulled out a bag of blood. He got a juice glass, filled it halfway with the blood, and sat it in front of her along with a cup of coffee. He took a coffee and croissant for himself and began to eat.

It was good they were off of the topic of Marc's sleeping habits. This also gave Aimee an opportunity to get to know Liam a little better. "So what do you do here in Paris, Liam?"

He took a moment to chew his bite of croissant and then answered, "I work for Avant Corporation. We do a lot of lab work. It's mostly testing, genetics, and things like that."

"Sounds interesting." Aimee took a drink of her coffee. It was good, warm and aromatic.

"Yes, I guess so. It keeps me busy anyway."

There was a pause after his answer. Conversation tended to flow very well between them for nearly being strangers. She liked Liam. She knew that he must be okay to be such a good friend of Marc's. Still, she wanted to know more about him. She needed to understand him better before she could trust him herself. One question begged being asked above the rest. "Are you an admirer then, like Enric and Natasha?"

Liam laughed suddenly, spilling his coffee on his lap. He used his napkin to wipe it up neatly as he answered. "No offense, I like your kind well enough. I just wasn't quite prepared for that question."

"I've been too forward. I apologize." Aimee grabbed a towel and wiped up what had spilled across the table.

"No, no. I can see how you would be curious of my connection to Marc." His eyes met hers. He was very surprised and also amused.

"I didn't mean to offend you." Aimee had definitely misjudged that moment. She thought it would be a good chance to ask the burning question. His response had certainly not been what she expected.

"You haven't, not at all. I don't often get to discuss these things actually." He took in a deep breath, put the coffee drenched towels off to the side, and looked into her eyes. "I am a guardian of sorts."

"Oh." It was Aimee's turn to be surprised. "I didn't know vampires needed guardians."

"I don't protect vampires." He could see that he was only confusing her more, so he attempted to clarify. "I look after Marc because he is a friend, but in general that is not what my purpose is."

"Then what is your purpose? What is it that you guard?" This was clearly more complex than she had imagined.

"Balance is my purpose. You see humans tend to self-regulate the violence between each other. If for no other reason, there are checks and balances because of their mortality alone. With vampires, things are not so simple. There are few checks and balances for immortals. Because of this, we exist, a handful of guardians to watch and maintain the balance."

Liam had explained, well, but this beckoned another question from Aimee. "What happens then, if the violence grows among immortals? What if things get "off balance"?

Liam thought carefully about his response. "Well, then it would be our job to restore it."

Before Liam could explain in more detail, and before Aimee had the chance to ask more questions, Marc emerged from the bedroom. He must have overheard them talking. "What are you two doing? Chatting it up, I see."

She couldn't help but smile looking at him. His hair was a mess and his eyes were half open, sensitive still to the light. It was funny how neither of them had actually had much sleep, but they were both so relaxed and they could not stop smiling between them. He had pulled on a pair of lounge pants, but his chest was bare. She loved his body, lean and strong. He looked amazing straight out of bed, not trying to impress anyone. She looked at him, and then turned away before she looked back at him again. He made her feel like no one else had before. She couldn't even hold his gaze for too long. There was too much power in it.

Even Liam could feel the pull between them. "Looks like you had a long night there, friend." You could tell that he very much enjoyed teasing Marc.

Marc blushed, though he would never have admitted it. "What are you doing here? It's not even dark yet."

Liam's playful grin faded. He put down his food, and clasping his hands, he looked over at Marc. "I know what happened with Damian. It may be wise to cut your trip a bit short, so I decided to come over and drive you into the country. I know that you had some things there that you wanted to share with Aimee before you go."

Marc furrowed his brow. He had hoped that last night's events hadn't drawn Liam's attention. "You want me to go back to America?"

Liam did not hesitate in his reply. "Yes. I think it would be best, just to give things time to diffuse."

Marc was skeptical. "Do you really think that it will make a difference?"

"Honestly, I don't know yet. I hope so."

The weight of what went unsaid between them was more unsettling than what had been discussed. Aimee was very concerned what all of this business with Damian would end up meaning for them.

Liam rose from the table and spoke over his shoulder as he walked out the door. "I'll be out front when you're ready."

"Thank you, Liam." Marc called after him.

"Of course." He shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Marc and Aimee alone.

Marc walked silently over to the table and poured a glass of blood for himself. "I know that you don't feel like drinking, but you should." He pushed her glass toward her. She didn't want to drink, but she trusted him. She lifted the glass to her lips and drank. When she was finished, Marc started to explain a little. "There is something very special that I want to show you today."

"What?" They had already seen the Eiffel tower, and they had their first kiss. Aimee wondered what else it was that Marc had planned. It must be important for him not to want to leave the country without showing her first.

"It's a surprise." Marc looked down and grinned, leaning back in his chair.

He seemed to love teasing her like that. He was good at being playfully evasive. There was a depth to his voice that let her know that today would be a very special day for them both. She was still concerned about Damian and what would become of that situation, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind for now. She would focus on Marc, and whatever this was that he had to share with her.

It seemed like they were driving forever. Liam's car raced along the countryside in endless pursuit of this "special" place that Marc just had to show her. The anticipation did nothing to shorten the trip at all. The hills were beautiful. She tried to distract herself by focusing on them as she stared out the window. They passed houses and vineyards, and the occasional cyclist. She wondered what those people's lives were like. She couldn't help but wonder if they could see the beauty that she saw in the landscape there. It was all around them, and it was breathtaking. Their lives, as they went about their routines had a very magical element to them. Aimee was still very much in touch with her human self. She knew now that her despair had not been because of a fault within herself, but rather a lack of having ever been truly cared for. She felt so much differently here and now, her whole perspective had changed. She reached over and held Marc's hand in her own. He looked at her and smiled, as she mouthed the words "I love you."

"I love you too," He mouthed back.

It wasn't long after that Liam pulled off the narrow road and parked. "It's been a long while since you've been back here, eh Marcus?"

Marc ignored the question. He was too excited to get Aimee moving and show her what he had brought her here to see. "We'll have to hike the rest of the way."

Aimee pulled a pack out of the open trunk "I love hiking."

She threw on the pack and started walking up the trail. She did love hiking. It had always been a peaceful escape for her. She enjoyed the challenge of it, and the way the air felt in her lungs. She loved the sounds of the animals and the environment around her. There was very little that she did not like about hiking.

It was sunny, but late winter's chill lingered in the air, the wind blew against her back. They were surrounded by trees. Several paths wound in and out of the forest and countryside. She hadn't been here before, but somehow she knew where she was going. She continued on ahead of Liam and Marc, who were following close behind her. It felt familiar. She knew that she was nearly home. Pictures flashed in her mind. It looked different now, than she remembered, but many of the landmarks remained the same. She had walked for nearly an hour. IT felt like only a few moments. The flashes came faster now, the closer that she got. She could see it. She could feel it.

When she closed her eyes, it was spring, and the trees were dense and full. She loved the green surrounding her. Birds flew overhead. She liked the sound that their babies made, newly hatched. The ground even felt different as it kicked up around her toes. It was rich and brown, and damp with fertility. The trees bore fruit, almost looking overburdened with the weight of it. There was nothing better than contemplating the cycle of things. She kept walking faster now. She was approaching a river. She could hear the sound of rushing water. There was a cool mist in the air. Marc and Liam had to work hard to keep pace with her.

Liam asked, "Why is she walking so fast?"

"We're almost home, the earth calls to her." Marc smiled as he focused his strength on traversing the thick undergrowth. He hadn't been back for such a long time. Revisiting now, did not sting as much. She was here with him this time. Thoughts pressed at him. "If only I could go back and make the right choices, I would never have caused her so much pain."

Nothing that Liam could have said would alleviate the guilt that Marc felt, so he said nothing. He kept walking, pressing forward with Marc.

The flashes kept drawing Aimee deeper and deeper into the forest. Even following a small animal trail, it was hard to push through the branches and the vines. She pressed herself forward one more time, and broke free at last of the forest, and onto a sandy bank. She had made it to the river. The sound was soothing and peaceful. The water rushed over the rocks and around the bend. She had been there before, this very spot. She remembered standing here and looking out, waiting. She was still standing there thinking, when Marc and Liam caught up with her. Marc looked at her from the edge of the wilderness. They had been there before. She knew it.

In her mind's eye she could see him. He had come to meet her here. They were not supposed to see each other today, but they couldn't wait until nightfall. He had come over and wrapped his arms around her.

"They'll be angry if they find us here," she teased him

"I needed to see you." He pulled her in closer, pressing her back against his chest, and kissed a line gently down the side of her face.

"And what of superstition?"

"I am not guided by old wives tales."

She smiled in satisfaction with his answer. "No future leader should be."

"I am only a servant." His voice was a soft whisper in her ear.

The mention of the word servant provoked her. "We bow to no one." Aimee spoke proudly. Their clans were strong, full of valor and courage. To them servitude was slavery. Life was not worth living if you were not free.

Marc knelt in the mud as he turned Aimee to face him. "I am yours. Whatever you ask of me it is done."

She took his face in her hands and knelt down beside him. "What more could I need but your love? I am not complete without you. Promise me that you will never leave me."

"I promise you, I will never leave you. How could I survive without my other half?" Mark kissed her softly, and full of passion.

Today was the happiest day of their lives. The ceremony would begin at sunset, and tonight they would be married. Their union, as powerful and meaningful as it was to them, was also important to their clans. It marked an alliance between their fathers to stand, unified together against outsiders and trespassers.

Their marriage had been foretold when they were still in their mothers' wombs. Marc's grandmother, a seer, had been impressed with it months before Marc was born. She was respected within her clan, as well as among their neighbors. They had never before had much occasion for contact with one another, but their mothers being themselves believers, saw this as an opportunity to strengthen their territories.

Liam just stood there, watching Marc as he saw Aimee go through this odd trance. It was like some kind of time warp. There was so much passion and love in the way that Marc looked at her. He had never noticed the strength of that bond until that moment. Marc was already vampire by the time that he and Liam met. He did remember hearing Marc talk about his life together with Aimee. There was much more power in their connection than Marc's words could ever have expressed.

The sound of his footsteps approaching brought Aimee back to the present. Marc took her hand, "Come, the village is not far."

Together they walked from the river bank, through a field, and into a wooded area at the base of the foot hills. They walked along the path up to the circle of trees where their village had once stood. Aimee stopped. She knelt low to the ground and ran her hand along the thick, green moss. She felt so connected with this place. In a way it was strange to come here to a place that she had never been to before in this lifetime and feel so at home. Another part of her though, found it very freeing to validate all the random dreams that she had become so familiar with since childhood.

Marc knelt down beside her and took some dirt in his hands. He let it run between his fingers. "Amazing isn't it?"

"What?"

"How much things change. How much that they still stay the same."

"Our lives were so simple, so innocent." Aimee longed for that time. She liked who she was in those memories.

"If I could go back and change what happened I would." Marc would never forgive himself for hurting her, for breaking his promise.

"And what could you change? You had no choice but to fight when the fight came to us. A man cannot choose his enemy. There was no way to know what we fought against."

"I should have killed him." Anger ripped through Marc, tightening his expression, and turning his voice to a deep, low growl.

"He is not mortal."

"I should have tried." A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wound his hands around each other. His jaw was clenched. "I should have been returned to this earth. I was meant to die with my brothers."

"You were trying to keep your promise to me. I should never have asked it of you." Aimee wrapped herself around his shoulders, trying to comfort him as they knelt in the dirt.

"Time was stolen from us."

"But you have taken it back, we are together now."

He ran his hand along her face, his thumb lingering at the corner of her mouth. "At what price? Look what I've done. Look what I've asked of you."

She kissed the palm of his hand softly. "You vex your spirit for nothing. We are together now and that is all that matters. You assume that you cheated destiny, but what if this was our destiny all along? What happened in our mortal lives was tragic, but we must forgive ourselves and live in the present."

Marc made an effort to smile at her. She was trying so hard to comfort him, and to reassure him. "I thought it would be a while longer yet before I was learning from you, my love."

"Well, I have experienced many perspectives it seems. I have apparently been everything from a tribeswoman to a queen." Aimee turned her head slightly to the side and batted her eyes flirtatiously. She knew if nothing else that this would begin to turn his thoughts away from his past regrets.

Marc laughed at her boldness. It was nice to laugh together. He had followed her through so many lifetimes. There had been so much pain and heartbreak along the journey. Now, with her here in his arms, it all seemed unimportant. She was right. They were together, and that is all that really mattered.

They stayed there, sitting on the hilltop and watched the sun set together. It was beautiful. Orange and gold was splashed across the painted sky. Aimee could not remember the last time that she sat and watched the sun set. It felt good. Still, as pleased as she was that her connection with Marc was deepening, she knew that there was so much more to their story than she was aware of. His silence spoke volumes. It was dark by the time that they began heading back to the car.

Marc and Aimee walked ahead of Liam. "Wait up you two. We're not all vampire you know."

His comment caught Marc off guard and he started to laugh, "Very funny Liam." Marc didn't slow down. He actually picked up his pace a little. Way out in the hills, there were no signs or street lights to help guide their way, only moonlight, and their instincts. It really was hard to see, and hard to sense direction. Marc and Aimee moved quickly, winding through the grass and trees with little effort. Vampires were made to live in the darkness. Their eyes flashed, perfectly suited to the low light.

Liam just continued, playfully. "I see, I spend my entire day helping you and you treat me like we're in grade school."

"Don't be such a hard ass Liam. I'm just having a little fun."

This was becoming more of a challenge than a game between the two men. Both of them had a healthy competitive streak. They had rare opportunity to match themselves against one another. Their interactions were always bound by rules and regulations, and even that was compounded by all the things that they didn't speak of.

"Alright Marcus, you want to have some fun? Let's have fun then. I'll race you to the car." Liam was already taking off his leather jacket, his well-muscled arms flexing tightly as he pulled the sleeves down behind his back. He never stopped moving forward.

"What are the stakes?" Marc had learned from all his years as vampire that you always clarify the details before making an agreement, no matter how seemingly small.

"No time jumps, everything else is fair game. First one to the car wins." Liam was being very lenient with the conditions.

Marc knew that there must be some reason why, but his blood was already flowing faster, and he wanted to run. "Aimee, will you be okay?"

She was surprised that they remembered she was even there. Things were getting heated between them, as things tended to do when two men were out to prove who the better was. It never mattered what they were competing for, at, or why. Men are men, of any species. "Sure, I'd rather you two work it out now, than to have to listen to you in the car."

Marc gave her a quick kiss and let go of her hand. His attention was on Liam, and the stakes. "Okay. So, what are we playing for?"

Liam took a second to think, and then answered, "One question. No boundaries. No lies."

Marc smiled back, "Fine. On your call."

"See you at the car."

Their eyes flashed fiercely. Competition between them had obviously been a tradition of sorts. Marc ran as fast as his two legs could carry him, and then he dropped to four. He had shifted into a large black panther. Sweat covered his muscles and their surface reflected the light of the moon as they entered an open field. A few feet to the side of him, Liam was not far behind. Marc could hear the sound of something approaching fast behind him. He tried to push himself harder and pull out a greater lead. It just kept coming, faster. Suddenly, a shadow was cast over him, blocking the moonlight all around him. He looked up and gliding overhead was something he had never seen. Its wings spread out at least ten feet. Its body was difficult to decipher, but it had the shape of a man. It hovered a moment, the force of its wings pushing him back. Then, it pressed forward with such force that the wind cast from its wings was so forceful that it nearly knocked Marc over. In a few moments, Marc made it to the car. He walked over to Liam who had just put on a shirt that he pulled from the trunk.

Liam looked up, still grinning. "So there you are. I was wondering if you had fallen asleep along the way."

Marc was angry that he had lost, and embarrassed. He was also completely amazed and curious. He had never seen Liam take that form. "What the hell was that?!"

"You have misunderstood the rules, my friend. I am the one who gets to ask the question."

"Yes. So it is." Marc was dying to know the answer to his question, but a deal was a deal. He had lost. The question was Liam's to ask.

Liam tossed some clothes to Marc and sat down on the ground beside the car, facing the woods. "I'd like a minute to think about this."

'Take your time." Marc got dressed, and sat down beside Liam.

After a few moments sitting there silent and slowing their breaths, Liam began "There is one thing that I've wondered about."

"Go on." Marc tried to ready himself. He knew that Liam was going to ask a hard question.

"What ever happened between you and Damian?"

Marc let out a deep sigh. They had spoken of a lot of things. There were still things between them unsaid. He tried to think of exactly what it was that Liam wanted to know. "I've told you that he turned me after a battle between my tribe and his army. We lingered a week in France for the change to be complete, and to give me time to honor those who fell. I did not have long to mourn. We headed to Romania. Damian wanted me to understand what it was that I had become. What I noticed most on the journey was in the mist, and the darkness. The sun never shines on that side of the world. It was dawn when we got within sight of the castle. We fought our way through the twisted branches. The horizon was glowing red. It was fitting, the air was heaving, and being there I began to realize that I had made a terrible mistake. I had left the woman who I loved above all else to become something that I had never dreamed of in my worst nightmares. I began to envy my brothers, those whose bodies were resting, joined with the earth we had loved and fought to defend. Their spirits were free. They were free to move on to their next life. They were blessed. I had spared Aimee no sorrow. I saw her, her tears, every time I closed my eyes.

The hunger had begun to grow within me, and Damian could not wait to share with me the pleasure of feeding it. He had developed quite a reputation there. His wealth had grown as he commanded legions for his brothers. There were a few hundred proven warriors who he had turned that fought by his side to help him achieve it. They fought for power and for riches, the Order of the Dragon. Here, I learned the history of my kind before going on to Spain. Damian had spent much time there at the bidding of his brothers. He loved everything about that country. Damian's own rage and disregard seemed most intense in Romania at the castle, so I was glad to be away from that place and my own memories there. Spain was beautiful, and I was often able to break away and watch Aimee. Damian demanded more and more sacrifices of me, my time, my killing. I resisted him for the most part, until Aimee passed away. It was centuries before I found her again. That was the darkest time of my life.

Living according to Damian's whims was hell. I could never rest, not even during the day. I saw the faces of each person I had killed. They haunted me every time I closed my eyes. The battles were endless. Damian and the Order had a thirst to conquer that was unquenchable. They sold us out to the highest bidder. We were mercenaries, all of us vampire, all of us strong, all of us owned. Some men loved the life. We had more than we could ever spend, women begged us to take them, and blood flowed from an endless cup. To me though, I was still a slave. I made a deal with Damian to buy my freedom. I did whatever he asked of me, unspeakable things, and just when I thought the torment would never end, he let me go. He had no choice. I completed my end of our bargain. As awful as he is, Damian is a man of his word. You know the rest of the story."

Marc's account had been more complete than Liam expected, but another question stood out to him after hearing the story. "What do you mean by your end of the bargain?"

Marc was finished speaking about this. "I've already answered your question, friend."

"Yes, so you have." A deal was a deal, and Liam had asked his single question.

They both looked out toward the woods. They were watching for Aimee to reach the car. She had started walking in that direction. It was cold and the night had fallen around her. She had never been very afraid of the woods, having grown up in such a rural area herself. The wind was still and crisp. The hooting owls were soothing. It was peaceful. She had always liked going for walks at night. There is something about a clear night sky that just helps to clear your mind as well.

She had walked quite a distance, calmed by the sound of each step made, crunching into the cold ground. She was alone with her thoughts. It was good because there was so much to think about. Her connection with Marc was growing continually. She was adapting well now to her physical changes, and on a spiritual level, Aimee was becoming more and more comfortable with herself. Along with that acceptance came a thirst for understanding. She wanted to know more about who she was, and to do that she needed to learn more about who she had been.

Aimee was deep in thought when she became aware that the moonlight suddenly seemed to dim. A low rush of air swept up and around her, sending a chill to her core. She looked back down the path she had been following. There was nothing there. Strange, she was sure that she had heard footfalls. Aimee wrapped her jacket a little more tightly around her body. Her mind quickly fell back into thought. "I need to know more about my other lives," she was thinking to herself, "then, I will better understand this one. But who can I go to? Enric has told me all that he knows. I'm afraid to question Marc too much more about it. It always makes him seems so sad." Then, she remembered that Natasha had mentioned a friend of Marc's who had helped him on his quest to finding her, Elsie, the priestess. Maybe she could talk to her. She would surely know more.

"Come to me." Aimee heard a low voice whisper from the trees. The voice was male, and strong. It was also soft, and alluring.

"That's not possible," she told herself. "You're out in these woods and you're psyching yourself out." Though she knew that it must be her mind playing tricks on her, she still quickened her step just a bit.

"Come to me." The voice whispered again, lingering on the words a little longer. "I can tell you what you need to know."

Aimee glanced back again behind her. There was nothing there. "You've got to stop it!" she told herself, "There is no one there. It's just the wind."

"Come to me." The voice was sterner this time. "Don't you want to know who you are? I can tell you, that and many other things." The voice was softening. "Come to me, and I can give you what you seek."

This was real. It had to be. It was speaking to her, interacting with her thoughts. Aimee could sense that despite the offer, this was something that she did not want to be talking to at all. Fear shook her. She started running as fast as she could in the direction of the car. Branches slashed at her face and arms. They stung against her cheeks. She could hear the footfalls again, louder this time. It was chasing her. She ran faster, pressing deep into the wilderness. The cold air forced its way into her lungs with each breath. Her chest was tight. It hurt so much. She ignored the pain, and did not stop running. She couldn't stop. It was right behind her.

She could feel it, but she was too afraid to look back. She just kept running. The words echoed in her mind. What was this thing? How did it know her? Her legs felt weak. She pushed through it. She knew, she just knew that if she stopped she would die. Tears filled her eyes. She tried not to cry, it would cloud her vision, and she needed to see. She wanted to scream, but she could not make a sound.

Finally, she could see the headlights of the car. She ran toward it as fast as she could, pushing herself even harder. They saw her coming. Marc could tell that something was wrong. She ran into him full force, knocking him back onto the side of the car. Instinctively, he spun her around so that her back was against the car, and he stood between her and the forest.

"I just... there was..." Aimee could barely breathe.

"It's okay, you're safe now." Marc tried to comfort her. He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her restless body back and forth. She looked over his shoulder. She could feel it. It was watching her from the edge of the woods. Then, he stepped forward, right at the edge of the tree line. The moonlight barely cast through the branches to faintly illuminate his face. It was Damian. Her body collapsed through Marc's arms and she fell onto the ground. There was a terrible feeling, right at the center of her. She felt so much fear, so much despair.

"There!" She pointed to the trees. She wanted Marc and Liam to see. She had to warn them that he was there. Damian smiled, turned, and disappeared into the shadows. He was gone before Liam or Marc had the time to see him.

"I'll go check it out." Liam took off into the woods. Marc stayed at Aimee's side. He opened the car door and helped her into the seat. She could not stop crying now. It was overpowering, this horrible feeling that would not go away. So many questions ran through her mind. Why was Damian there? What could he possibly want to tell her?

"What happened, Aimee?" Marc seemed so concerned, but she wasn't even completely sure of what had just happened.

"I don't know! Something was chasing me." Aimee fought to try and put the pieces together. She tried so hard to calm her fear and just think.

"What was chasing you?"

"I don't know! I was just walking and then I heard a voice." She could still hear the voice, whispering in her mind as she replayed the scene, trying to make sense of it all.

"A voice?! So it was a person?"

"At first, I didn't think so."

"What do you mean?" Marc wanted so much to protect her. She wasn't sure if he'd be able to this time.

"I saw someone standing at the edge of the woods." Aimee didn't know if she should tell him what she thought she saw. She was so afraid, and maybe that had played tricks with her mind.

"Who?" Marc's voice was demanding. He was fearless, if only she had that kind of courage.

Aimee was too afraid to tell him. It didn't make any sense at all. If it had been Damian she did not understand why he would have let her go. He could have easily overpowered her while she was alone. She worried too, that Marc wouldn't believe her. It would have been equally disastrous if he did believe her and went to Damian. Damian would not like being accused or threatened, and if he did do this, then he would not be stopped.

"I'm not sure." This was the first time Aimee had lied to Marc. She felt guilty, but didn't know what else she could do.

Marc sighed deeply. He got frustrated when he couldn't take control of things. He was never one to use a bunch of idle words or actions. He liked straight answers, and he liked to get things done. Whatever this was, he couldn't protect her from it if he couldn't see it and she couldn't name it. That was a revelation that weighed heavy on them both. They were still sitting in the car when Liam returned. He was very winded and sweat poured down his face and chest.

"Did you find anything?" Marc couldn't wait to spring into action.

"No, friend. Whatever this was it's not there now. I'm sorry, Aimee." Liam would have found anyone who was still there to find. He felt a sense of responsibility for Aimee since she was Marc's partner. He would fight to protect them both in almost any circumstance.

"It's okay. Thanks for even going out there." Aimee reached her hand out to his. It was so tiny in comparison. She forgave him.

Liam nodded and sat down in the driver's seat. He took a big drink of water, and then he threw his head back onto his seat and looked back at Aimee. He should not have played the silly game. He should have walked with her. She was still so young, and her skill as a fighter was yet untested. "Are you going to be alright? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt. Let's just get out of here." Aimee was ready to leave. If it hadn't been Damian, she didn't want to find out what it was. If it was him, then she wanted to get out of France as soon as possible.

The ride to the airport was much more quiet than the drive down there had been. The events of the night were on everyone's mind. There were so many unanswered questions. Aimee was lost in thought, leaning her head against the window. This was the first time that she had felt that she could not talk with Marc about something. It wasn't a good feeling.

He held her hand and watched her face. Her eyes followed the passing scenery. They were empty. He wanted so much to help her, but he didn't know how. He sat there with her in silence. Something seemed to be on Liam's mind as well. Marc wondered if they were thinking about the same thing. It hurt to be so connected with Aimee and to not really understand what she was feeling. He knew that he shouldn't have left her alone. That was a stupid mistake. She had been through so much. He shouldn't have left her, not to play some juvenile game. What had happened at Damian's mansion had obviously made its mark on her. He had hoped that he would be able to protect her from ever having to kill a man. No one should have to know that feeling. It lives inside you, eating at you. He felt guilty. It didn't matter how hard he tried, he always failed at protecting her.

The elements were unaware of their troubles. In spite of them, it was a beautiful day. The sun was bright, which made it seem warmer than what it really was. Marc wished that they had more time to enjoy it. Even with what happened with Damian, Marc was glad to have gotten to share Paris with Aimee once again. That first passionate kiss at the Eiffel Tower was one of his best memories of all time.

It felt good to hold her hand, and to be able to touch her again. Even after all those years, and everything that had happened since, he was still in absolute awe of her. She was such a beautiful, confusing woman. Her inner spirit was so powerful, but yet she was so susceptible to what everyone else thought of her. She was open about life, but she could never fully trust. There were many contradictions within her, and she captivated him. He never grew tired of studying her face. He could easily contemplate her thoughts for hours. She was more than a companion to him, she was his whole world. When they pulled up to the airport there were many things left unsaid. Many questions had yet to be answered. For Aimee though, one was about to be.

Liam handed her two books as he said good bye. "Au revoir, Aimee. Here, I want you to have these."

"What are they?" Aimee was surprised. She couldn't wait until she could look them over.

"They are the answer to what you asked me back at the hotel."

Aimee took the books in her hands. "Thank you, Liam."

Liam gave Aimee a hug. She was so glad to have gained his friendship. Then, Liam turned to Marc. "I have some time saved up for holiday. Can I come check on you in a few weeks?"

"Of course, you're always welcome. You're a good friend, Liam. Take care." Marc's good bye was standard male, but Aimee could feel that it was still heartfelt. She was glad to know that Marc had friends like that, especially when she knew that this whole thing with Damian may not be over just because they were going back home.

It wasn't long before they were allowed to board their flight. Aimee and Marc tried their best to prepare for their long trip home. Many things were going through Marcs mind, but right now, one thing had really piqued his curiosity.

"What was Liam talking about?" Marc was glad to see Aimee and Liam getting along, but he did not like being kept out of the loop on anything.

"I had asked him if he were like us." Aimee had no reason to hide their interaction, so she was open and honest.

Marc laughed openly. He couldn't believe that anyone would be so bold, especially with Liam. "What did he say?"

"He said that the question was unexpected. He also said that he was neither vampire, nor admirer, but a kind of Guardian."

Marc pointed to the books she held in her hands, "What books did he give you to read?"

Aimee had almost forgotten about them in the bustle to get to their gate at the airport. She scanned the titles quickly. "The Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls, by James H. Charlesworth, and a copy of the King James Bible. It looks like he's marked some of the pages as well."

"Let's hear them."

"Has he never discussed this with you before?" Aimee was surprised that Marc didn't know what these books meant in relation to Liam. They had been friends for so long.

"I never asked him." There were many things between Liam and Marc that they never discussed with each other. This was one of them.

"To have experienced so much, vampires surely seem to keep a lot of secrets."

"Some things, my love, are not meant to be known to all who ask." Marc admired her boldness, and her desire to understand and build a friendship with Liam. She had been pulled completely out of her comfort zone since meeting him. She was trying to adjust, and he wanted to support her in that.

"Why do you think that he has chosen to tell me?" Aimee could see the point that Marc was making, but she didn't understand why Liam would open up to her, and not to Marc. She didn't want to press the issue, since she wasn't sure how Marc felt about it.

"I don't know yet."

Aimee picked up the first book, the Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls by James H. Charlesworth and began to read from page 215, which spoke of an eternal priest.

Aimee thought for a moment and then furrowed her brow. When she was serious about something she always had that same expression. It seemed strange on her. To have been through so much, there was still a haunting innocence in her eyes. It endeared him to her even more. "What does this mean, Marc?"

Marc wasn't really sure. "Let's read the other passage."

Aimee handed Marc the bible. He opened it to a page flagged with a red ribbon and read aloud. It was Hebrews Chapter 7 verse 21: "Thou art a priest for ever after the order of Melchisedec" Marc glanced from the bible to the book n Aimee's lap. He read over the marked passages again in his mind as they sat side by side. "I think it means exactly what it seems to be saying."

"Liam's a guardian angel? Get real." Aimee laughed. There was a whole lot that she had been forced to accept in recent weeks. The idea of a guardian angel was logical enough, but Liam? Liam was not exactly the angelic type.

Marc continued, he was sure of the interpretation. "No seriously, I mean you didn't think that we existed did you? It's pretty straight forward what he wanted you to read."

"It doesn't make sense. Why would he care what happens between immortals, for one thing?" There were many other reasons, but Aimee decided that she'd have to start somewhere.

"He only cares if it affects humanity. Of course the actions of vampires could affect humans, they do all the time." Things weren't clicking for Aimee, but for Marc they were starting to really make sense.

"Damian is a terrible being, yet he has let him continue his life. It doesn't make sense. If he is an angel, where is his strength? His wings? His halo? Why doesn't he speak of God and of heaven?" There were many things about Liam that Aimee could not possibly reconcile with her idea of angels.

Marc's mind went immediately back to that morning. The thing that had flown over him in the wilderness must have been Liam. They had been friends for so long now. Marc could not believe that he had been able to keep something as big as this hidden from him. "You are presuming to know what he is, what he looks like, speaks like, and acts like. You speak of lore, children's stories. You of all people should know that truths are not revealed in such fairy tales."

"That is true of our kind, but how could we know if it is true of Liam? We have no way to be certain what he is, or what he is capable of."

They continued to talk for a while over coffee and their newest reading material. The flight was long, but there was a lot to discuss and that made things seem better. The topic of Liam gave them something else to focus on for a while besides worrying over what had happened in Paris with Damian. They would have to talk about it sometime, and soon, but for now things were interesting and peaceful discussing the possibility that their friend was something supernatural.

The plane landed in Atlanta for a layover. All the stress that they had been under was beginning to show on both of them. They found one of the less crowded sections of seating outside the gate, and sat down, leaning into one another for support. They were so tired.

Marc looked over at Aimee, taking her hand in his, "It will be so good to be home again."

The thought of home was comforting to Aimee. That was their safe place, their refuge in the wilderness. It was tempting to hide away there forever apart from society, and just enjoy one another's company until time passed away. "Yes, it will."

Marc felt more at peace when he was home too. He felt better able to protect Aimee in that house. In his own home he knew what to expect. He could make her happy there. He knew it. All the noises began to melt away, the merchants, the speakers, even the planes. Everything that he had hoped for he held there in his hands. He kissed her hair as she leaned over onto his shoulder. He loved the way she smelled, like jasmine and vanilla. When she sat close to him like that, Marc knew that he was the luckiest man in the world. He lay back, resting his head on the top of the chair, and let himself drift off to sleep.

# Run Away

The cell phone alarm was buzzing when he woke up. It was only twenty minutes until time for them to board their flight. The lights seemed brighter. Marc shielded his eyes from the sun. Leaning onto Aimee's chair, he noticed that it was empty. He walked over to the food court, thinking that she may have been hungry or wanted to use the restroom. After a few moments, though it became clear that she wasn't there. His heart raced. Marc began to panic. Where was she? Was she safe? Why would she just wander off like that?

He took a deep breath. He could smell the humans all around him. The scent of their blood filled the air like fresh meat. He could smell grease and sugar from the food court. Then, he noticed it, the faint scent of jasmine. He pushed through the crowd, trying his hardest to follow her trail. He followed her scent to the front lobby, and then outside, where the wind took away all trace of her.

"Damn it!" His eyes flashed and took on an eerie opaqueness. His voice was loud, forceful, angry, and frustrated. He kicked the parking meter beside him so hard that it fell backward onto the concrete, sending coins flying. People walked a distance around him, staring and afraid.

He did the only thing that he knew to do. He took out his cell phone and dialed Enric. "She's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?!" Enric was in shock. He didn't know what to ask next.

"We fell asleep at the terminal and when I woke up she was gone." Marc explained as quickly as he could.

"Well, did she leave anything behind?" Marc and Aimee weren't due back for days. Enric did not even ask why they were coming home so soon, he only wanted to find her.

"No, she took her bag with her." Marc was thinking through every scenario that he possibly could in his mind.

"Do you think someone's taken her?" Enric could not believe that she would just leave like that.

"I don't know. I followed her trail outside, but then I lost it."

"No human would be capable, right?"

"I never had a chance to explain our immortality to her. If she was scared, she could have been intimidated into going with someone." Marc should have taken the time to teach her. He was so preoccupied, and now she would pay the price.

"What if it was another vampire?" Enric didn't think it was likely that a human could intimidate her into leaving. All she would have had to do was wake Marc. He would have slaughtered the entire lot of them to save her.

"Not possible, I'm not picking up the scent of anyone near here." Marc's sense of smell was acute. He would notice another vampire.

"Would she have left on her own for any reason you can think of?'

"She seemed happy to be going back home. Things were going really well between the two of us. I don't know what's happened, but we will find out. Get ahold of Liam, it may take a while for you to reach him. I'm in Atlanta. The only way she could have left was in a car or on foot, I'm going to go try to find her."

"Be careful, Marc. If there is anything else that I can do, just give me a call."

"Thank you, Enric." Marc hung up the phone, a thousand emotions swirling inside of him. He felt out of control, and wasn't sure how to get it back. Many thoughts rushed at him. What if it was Damian? What if it was her crazy ex-husband? What if she had just decided to leave him on her own? He knelt down in the rain and snow, curling his body over his knees. The weight of the situation hit him like a knife to the chest. For the first time in a long time, he cried.

By this time, Aimee had a good half hour of driving time behind her. Part of her felt terrible for leaving him at the airport like that in Georgia. He looked so peaceful sitting there. She did love him, more than even she herself had the ability to comprehend fully. He meant everything to her. It was awful to have to do it like this, but there was no other way. She wanted to understand what was happening to her. Marc had tried to help her understand her past, but there was so much that he cloaked in shadows. He highlighted their love, which was powerful and beautiful, but he refused to speak of the darkness they faced. She could see that he was hiding something every time that he dropped his eyes or changed the subject with a gentle smile, she knew it. She needed to understand what it was that he was trying to protect her from. What was that faint sadness behind his eyes? In a way, it would be better if she could just ignore it somehow, but she knew that she could not. She wanted to be able to giver herself to him fully. There was no way to commit herself to the future without understanding their past together. She wanted the whole picture.

It was hard not to think of Enric and Natasha. She had bonded with Enric in the short time that they had known each other, and she missed him. He also gave her a measure of safety and protection, without him she would be forced to hunt. She wasn't sure what would happen to her without regular feedings. Marc had always made sure that her hunger was under control. She did not want to become a monster. This would be such a great test of will. Louisiana seemed like a long way away. She did not stop to sleep, she just drove for days. It was important not to waste time. She had sold her ticket home for the money to rent the car. She didn't dare get out of it except to pump gas. Marc had given her some money to spend in Paris. She used it now to keep her on the road. It felt like stealing.

Just across the Louisiana state line she was running low on gas and pulled over at a tiny mom and pop store. She could feel it now. She was weak from lack of food and sleep. There was a shadow over her face, and her eyes had taken on an animal like ferocity. The smell was overwhelming when she went in to pay. Fresh blood surrounded her. She could hear their heartbeats, it almost drowned o ut their voices. She was so hungry. It was hard to fight the urge to kill. She could see herself doing it in brief flashes in her mind. It didn't even seem like a strange thing to fantasize about anymore.

"Twenty on pump three." She laid the bill up on the counter, glancing briefly into the attendant's eyes. He was a young boy, barely out of high school. He was tall and thin, a little awkward. She scared him. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel it in the pulsing rhythm of his heartbeat, and in the increased quiver of his voice as he spoke. She liked it.

"You're not from Louisiana."

"I'm visiting a friend down in New Orleans." It would be so easy, so fast, to just lunge across the counter. He was just a kid, she told herself over and over. He was about the same age as the boy in Paris.

"Do you need directions?"

It was endearing that he was trying to help her. He had no way to know her thoughts. "I can find her, thanks."

Aimee turned and walked out, giving him a wink and a smile, careful not to part her lips. His reaction to her fangs, as amusing as it may be, would hurt her chances of blending in.

Marc searched everything, back in Atlanta, within a ten mile radius. He looked for anything, any small detail that would give him a starting point so that he could find her. He found nothing. Finally, Marc decided to go back home and try to figure out what to do next. The long drive up the isolated road that led to the mansion was not like the homecoming that he had imagined. He kept looking at the empty seat beside him. She was supposed to be there with him. He missed her.

Enric and Natasha did not rush to greet him. They knew that he would need some space to himself. He was angry. He was frustrated, and he was heartbroken.

"Welcome home." Natasha greeted him as he passed by her.

He didn't look at her, he just kept on walking. "Hello, Natasha."

Enric got up and walked out into the hall. Marc had almost reached the stair case. "Marc, I got to speak with Liam."

Marc turned and glanced up at Enric, "What did he say?"

"He's on his way. He should arrive late tonight." Enric had so many questions. He dared not ask them. In all the time he had known Marc, he had never seen him so strained.

"Did he have any idea what might have happened?" Marc never met Enric's eyes as he spoke.

"If he did, he did not speak to me of it." Enric wished that he had more to offer. He wished that he had the power and connections to have Aimee already on her way home. As things were, he did not. Even after all of the time he had spent in sincere contemplation, he had not the slightest idea at all what was going on.

It was mixed news to Marc that Liam had called back. He was glad that his good friend would soon be here, but he also knew that for Liam to drop everything and rush out to America, reason was sure to drive his urgency. Marc wasn't sure about what to make of it all, but he did know that he was incredibly, incredibly tired. He passed by his own door, letting his fingertips run over the wood and by the handle. He couldn't bear to open that door. He could see her laying there in his bed. She had given up so much, suffered so much to be with him. She wouldn't leave. He knew it. His anger was rising as he passed by the library. It wasn't that long ago that they sat there, reading over their favorite passages, sipping wine and laughing. He walked inside, scanning the covers before pulling Wuthering Heights off of the shelf. The cover still bore a stain from the wine Aimee had spilled when she leaned in carelessly. He slammed it shut and threw it across the room. It slid to a stop near the door as Enric walked in.

He picked it up, and placed it back on the shelf. "You'll find her Marc."

"How? How will I find her when I have no idea what is happening?" Marc was beginning to feel that deep pit of hopelessness grow within him. He had lost everything.

"Do what you have done in the past when fate has left you torn from one another." Enric could not figure out what happened, but he knew Marc's old friend would be able to, and with Liam here to help get her back, they would be successful. They had to be.

"Elsie?! Of course, surely she could see what has happened. I need to book a flight right away." Marc rushed out of the room. This was the first time that he had felt hope at all of finding Aimee since she disappeared. He wasn't sure if Elsie would be able to find a living person, and he refused to believe that she had been killed. Elsie may not be able to see anything at all, but she was his best hope of finding Aimee again.

# Princess and the Priestess

For Aimee, her fatigue was passing, giving way to a renewed sense of energy. She could sense everything so deeply, sight, touch, smell, and sound. Taste she avoided, though her hunger was growing with every hour. It wasn't long before she was inside New Orleans. Oddly, she hadn't thought things through this far. She knew that she needed to get to New Orleans, but she hadn't thought about how to find Elsie once she got here. Elsie was vampire, and while it was true that Aimee could sense her, New Orleans was filled with their kind. Everywhere she turned, Aimee felt them. It seemed like they were watching her. Many of them were older, and very powerful. She just kept on driving.

Finally there was a market on the corner that caught her eye. The sign was old and the paint curled away from the wood. There was a strange assortment of wooden crates out front. Some were filled with familiar items like sweet potatoes or fresh herbs, but others held strange fruits of varied kinds and textures. The smell was strong in the air, sweet and toxic. Aimee made her way inside. The store was small and crowded. The shelves were covered in glass jars filled full of beans and seeds of every color, shape, and size. The man behind the counter was old. His hair used to be dark, you could tell from the underside of his ponytail. The crown of his head to about mid-ear was dusted in a silvery grey. His glasses were small and round and rested near the end of his nose. The frame was bent, it tilted a little bit to the right. He looked up at her in a very knowing way, with a strange understanding for a human to possess. He was, however, quite human. She could practically see his heart beating. It was very calm. His tranquility made her feel a bit uneasy.

Aimee laid a few apples up on the counter, "They look beautiful."

"Yes, but you didn't come here to buy apples," He said with a smile, taking her bill, and handing her back a bag and some change.

"I am looking for someone." Aimee was careful not to reveal too much.

"Ah, and someone is looking for you." He folded up a slip of paper and put it in her bag. "Come back again."

"Thank you." Aimee turned and left. She opened the bag when she got to the car. There was a folded paper. It was her receipt with something written on the back. It had an address on it, 1358 Dalonde Street, New Orleans.

Beneath the address were some handwritten lines that read: "Lend your ears, for you have two. This is a sound that some do rue. Catch yourself before you fall. There is one God that rules us all."

She wasn't sure yet what this meant, but it must have something to do with finding Elsie. It didn't take Aimee long to find the address. The bottom of the house was a store front. The windows were dusty and hard to see through. The sign on the door read closed. Aimee could feel a strong presence there. It was hard to see through the windows because they were so clouded with dust. Someone was in the kitchen. Aimee could smell the spices as they escaped through the cracked window. She readied herself. Standing there, the riddle made sense. Her hands shook. She knocked twice, and then rang the dusty little bell at the base of the doorstep, only once as she held the lines up by the door.

The energy of whoever was walking toward her was very strong. A dark figure approached. It was too difficult to make out any features. Her heart was racing. Her fast had begun to take its toll. Her head was spinning. She thought that she would pass out, when finally a tiny old woman opened the door. She looked to be about sixty with silver strands streaked throughout her hair. Her dress had many bold colors, and her green paisley apron matched the kerchief on her head. Her eyes had a brightness to them, even though they were a bit clouded with cataracts. She smiled.

"Bonjour, Aimee. Come on in." She greeted her like an old friend.

This took Aimee off guard a little. "Are you Elsie?"

"That's what they been calling me, child since I can remember. Now, come on in, we can't be standing out here with the door gaped wide open."

Aimee was afraid to step inside. She knew that Elsie was a good friend of Marc's, but the power of her presence was suffocating. It reminded her of Damian, and she didn't like that at all. She had come a long way to speak with Elsie, though, so for the moment she put her fears behind her and stepped inside.

The store downstairs was strange. It was more than the eerie lighting, dim as it was. The shelves were lined with many curious things, far stranger things than were in the old man's shop earlier. There were jars with frog legs and rooster's crests, and a pig fetus. Above their heads hung all different kinds of dried flowers and herbs. There was incense and dusty old books, and even what looked like a human skull, up on a high shelf. They kept walking past the shelves, and up a narrow staircase, into the apartment above.

They went directly into the kitchen. "Have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

Aimee took a seat at the table as directed. She wasn't thirsty for tea, but Elsie certainly had a way about her that though she spoke softly, you did not want to offend her. So, Aimee took some tea. Elsie stirred a pot on the back burner and then came and sat down by Aimee. She lit some myrrh incense at the table.

"You're not surprised at all to see me here?" Aimee had to know why Elsie was treating her as if she already knew her.

"Oh, I've been expecting to meet you for centuries now." Elsie smiled, big and broad. She seemed genuinely happy to see Aimee.

"Then you know why I'm here." Aimee was anxious to get straight into things.

"Why are you here?" Elsie knew many things, but the motives of a person were something that only that person knew.

"I'm here to get answers. So far I'm not getting anything but a good cup of tea."

"Then, you aren't asking the right questions." Elsie wasn't being intentionally evasive. She was actually amused by the young one's eagerness.

Aimee took a deep breath and thought before answering. "I want to know about my past. I need to know who I was before I can live my life now fully."

"To want and to need are two very different things, child. First, you must be certain that you are ready for knowledge. There are many things that we bury in our minds for a reason. Are you sure that you want to go digging up the past?" Elsie's warning was gentle, and full of truth.

"I can feel that there is more to our story than Marc is telling me, or that I am seeing myself. It scares me. I want to face it and get past it, so I can be with him and be fully with him, without secrets." Aimee tried her best to convey that she had thought about this. She had the whole drive down here to think about this. She was hurting the one man that loved her so that she could offer her whole self. She had to understand.

"Very well, finish your tea. For this I will need your mind to be open." Elsie accepted her answer. She was not affected either way, but she wanted to know that Aimee had put some thought into the possible repercussions of doing this.

It was hard to focus. Elsie's sweet tea was very unique indeed. The colors in the room seemed to glow and move, melding in with each other.

Elsie laughed softly, "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Clearly whatever this was had been the plan. Aimee never had liked the feeling of being out of control, so she tried not to fight the movement and the colors as much as possible.

Elsie leaned in toward her. "Forget names. Forget time. You, the eternal essence of you, that is what I am interested in." After a few moments, letting Aimee focus, she continued. "Who are you? Where are you? Tell me what you see."

Aimee had fallen into some kind of hypnotic state. IT was her voice that spoke, but her sense of awareness had drifted somewhere else. "It's like I'm flying backward through a tunnel. Movies are playing all around. They're me I think, pieces of the lives that Marc described to me. I can see our life together." Aimee smiled. She loved being with him. Her smile faded quickly. She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I don't know where I am now. There's a castle on the shoreline. It's at the top of a big mountain. There are cliffs all down the back side. I can see a girl in the tower. She has long dark hair. She's so young, and she's crying. She's sitting on a window seat, looking out at the ocean. I think she is me. I want to die. I can hear a key in the door to the bedroom. It's him. I'm so afraid, my hands are shaking and they won't stop."

"Who? Who is it child?" Elsie was trying to find out more.

"He says I'm his wife, but I'm not. He bought me from my parents for gold pieces, like a horse or a cow. It wasn't my choice to be here with him. He thinks I'm ungrateful. He says he owns me. I guess he does." Tears filled Aimee's eyes.

"Can you see him? What does he look like?"

"I don't like to look at his face. He makes me look at him. I don't like his eyes. They're cold. He wears some kind of armor like a soldier. He's far too wealthy to be a soldier, maybe he's their commander. He is strong, and he likes to control people. He's angry, so angry that he can't control me. He's leaving and I'm happy. He won't let anyone talk to me. I'm completely alone when he isn't here. Sometimes I miss him, I hate it that I do. I just want to talk to someone so badly sometimes." Aimee's lip quivered as she spoke, fighting back the tears. She flashed quickly to another memory. "He's been gone for a while now. I'm looking out the window again. He'll be back in a few weeks. It's always worse when he first comes home. He hurts me. I think he likes it more when I cry. I can't do this anymore. I climbed onto the window ledge. I'm barefoot. I can feel the mist on my feet and legs. We are so close to the sea. I close my eyes. I'm done crying. I feel like a bird, soaring through the air, a beautiful red bird falling. He hates red, and I love wearing it. I didn't feel the rocks. I'm free now."

Aimee leaned back into her chair, her breath slowed as she began to relax. Whatever trauma that she faced was over now it seemed, but there was more to the picture that Aimee did not yet see. Elsie looked into her eyes. They showed her what happened.

"This was your first life. It was not with Marc. The place that you see is in eastern Romania, near the Black sea, and the man was someone very evil." Tears rolled down Elsie's cheeks. She could see the memories playing over and over again in Aimee's eyes. "His name was Dacian, of the family Dracuul. I am so very sorry for what he did to you, child. In your desperation you found the only way out that you could. What a terrible fate for a girl who was just fourteen. Your parents felt like they had no choice. All of you were starving. He gave them so much money, and he promised that you would live as royalty. They made the deal with him, but they did not know what they were doing. You saw through his eloquence right away, from the very day that he came to get you. What a strange morning that was. You had never seen your mother cry before. You couldn't help but cry too."

"She was in a hurry. She took my dress. He had left a new dress for me, but I don't want to wear it. I asked her why. Why is this happening? What did I do wrong? Please don't send me away. She told me to stop talking nonsense, and that he was going to be my husband. She said that I must learn to be a good wife, to be obedient to him, and to hold my tongue. I told her that I don't want to do this. I begged her over and over please to not make me do this. She told me to be silent, or else my father would hear. I listened to her. She bore the marks of my father's rage on her face. Either I was silent, or he would beat me until I could be nothing but silent. I slid on the dress. It was too big. I was just a girl, and had the figure of a girl. I felt like a doll, being dressed up against my will for someone else's amusement. Just before she opened the door, she pressed a rosary into my hands. It belonged to her, and the beads were worn from use. She told me to pray and to remember that God would guide and protect me. I wanted to hear that she loved me, but she never said it. She pushed me out instead into the great room of the house. He was coming through the doorway. He had to bend his head to clear the frame. He was dressed in rich fabric, and the leather of his shoes gleamed like water. He didn't even look at me. He looked at my father when he spoke.

"Here is the rest." The stranger said, handing my father a velvet bag full of gold coins, they clinked in his palm.

My father told him. "Thank you for your generosity, my Lord." He bowed before the man. It made me feel like he thought I was worth less.

I wanted to run, but there was no way past them. They hadn't given me any window to escape. My father took my hand and put it in the strangers. As he ushered me out he promised that I would be well taken care of. My father slammed the door shut, but I could still hear the sound of my mother crying. It was a deep cry, like she was dying. My little brother stood at the doorstep. His bare feet were covered in mud. They were red from the cold. Maybe they could afford to buy him a pair of shoes now.

The man's grip on my hand was firm. Perhaps he knew that I was contemplating the steps to the forest's edge. I mounted the horse behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. It was horribly uncomfortable holding onto him like that. I didn't know him, and I didn't think that I liked him. There was a road by the family farm that wound up the mountain and down into the town. I could remember someone watching me sometimes when I went out to find the goats. It must have been him. I couldn't understand why he chose me. We rode up the mountain and along the edge of the cliffs to a grey stone castle. I would have taken the chance to look back longer if I had realized that it would be the last time that I would ever see my brother, or my home.

We dismounted at the entrance. He put his hand out to lead me inside. There was a small chapel, and a priest waiting for us. This was not what I had imagined my wedding day would be like. There was no family, no flowers, no love, or softness.

The priest was a middle aged man, fat, with red cheeks. We stood in front of him and he began to speak from the bible. "18 And the Lord God said: It is not good for a man to be alone: let us make him a help like unto himself. 19 And the Lord God having formed out of the ground all the beasts of the earth, and all the fowls of the air, brought them to Adam to see what he would call them: for whatsoever Adam called any living creature the same is its name. 20 And Adam called all the beasts by their names, and all the fowls of the air, and all the cattle of the field: but for Adam there was not found a helper like himself. 21 Then the Lord God cast a deep sleep upon Adam: and when he was fast asleep, he took one of his ribs, and filled up flesh for it. 22 And the Lord God built the rib which he took from Adam into a woman: and brought her to Adam. 23 And Adam said: This now is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of man. 24 Wherefore a man shall leave his father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife: and they shall be two in one flesh...- Genesis 2:18-24

Having come of your own will to give yourselves to one another in marriage, will you honor and love one another as husband and wife, and accept children from God raising them according to the law of Christ and the church?"

The priest looked at us. I refused to answer, but it did not matter because the man answered for both of us. "We will," he said. I certainly did not.

Then the priest continued with his scriptures. "5 And a voice came out from the throne, saying: Give praise to our God, all ye his servants; and you that fear him, little and great. 6 And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of great thunders, saying, Alleluia: for the Lord our God the Almighty hath reigned. 7 Let us be glad and rejoice, and give glory to him; for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his wife hath prepared herself. 8 And it is granted to her that she should clothe herself with fine linen, glittering and white. For the fine linen are the justifications of saints. 9 And he said to me: Write: Blessed are they that are called to the marriage supper of the Lamb. And he saith to me: These words of God are true- Revelations (Apocalypse 5:9)"

The priest joined our right hands and continued speaking "Having declared their consent before God and the Church, Dacian, will you take Elizabeta here present for your lawful wedded wife, according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Catholic Church?"

He looked almost smug. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to kill him. He looked at me and said "I will. "His gaze did not feel warm or comforting. I looked at the priest. I wished that he would turn away from me. His eyes were like searing fire.

The priest spoke again. "Elizabeta will you take Dacian here present for your lawful wedded husband, according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Catholic Church?"

I was silent. I could not do this. It was not right. Nothing about this was right. He leaned in toward me without a second thought, and without hesitation. I couldn't see anything behind his eyes. He leaned in close to my ear, opposite the side of the priest and whispered "The old woman, I would kill last so that she could hear the little boys' screams. I can make your life very good, or I can make it very bad. Do you want your little brother to have a chance to grow up?"

It hit me then for the first time. I had begun to understand what my life would be like. I was terrified, absolutely terrified. He had the bower to do anything he wanted. I would have fought him and left that very minute, but I was afraid, frozen still with fear of what he would do to my family.

Dacian grew impatient at my silence. "Do you want me to spare him or not?" He demanded an answer.

"Yes." I said.

My feeble whisper was enough to prompt the priest to continue. "May the Lord in His goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder."

The priest gave a ring to Dacian and he spoke of the ring as a symbol of deep faith. Dacian repeated the priest's words. He held my hand tightly as the forced the ring on. "With this ring, I thee wed, and pledge myself unto thee. Take this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit." I wondered how the priest could do this. I wondered how it was that he couldn't see what was happening. I wondered why he didn't care.

The priest didn't stop things, instead he concluded our marriage with words that I would never forget. "May the hills lie low, May the sloughs fill up, May all evil sleep, May all good awake, in thy way. By the power of the Catholic Church, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

I turned as quickly as I could when he tried to kiss me. There was no wedding reception, no family, or friends. There was just a short good bye to the priest before he began to lead me through the corridors. I begged him, "please..." as I collapsed in the long narrow hallway. My long dark hair was wet with my tears.

He looked down on me and yelled "get up!" I begged him to please just let me go. It was then that he knelt down, and lifted my head so that I had to look at him as he spoke. I tried not to see him, to look past him as he spoke. "You are mine. I will never let you go. Do not let me hear you speak in such a way ever again. I am your husband and you will honor me. Now, get up!"

I wasn't sure what to do. I could have fought him, but he would have easily overpowered me. It was clear that he would do whatever he had to in order to control me. He would have won either way, so I decided to obey him in an effort to win his favor. I wiped my tears, and stood to my feet, straightening out the bodice of my dress.

He held out his hand for mine, "Good girl. Come, we are almost to our room."

I placed my hand in his reluctantly. I was still trembling. Our room was up a stairway at the end of the long, narrow hall. It had one window that looked out over the sea. He locked the heavy door behind him. I stood looking out over the water. He walked up behind me and pushed my hair over my left shoulder. I asked him why he chose me.

He began to kiss the right side of my neck as he answered, "Because you're beautiful."

I cringed and closed my eyes. "Surely, there are more beautiful girls."

He continued down my shoulder, pushing off the right sleeve of my dress. "There are none with your eyes."

He turned me to face him. I looked down at the floor at first. He pushed back the hair from my face, "look at me."

My eyes met his. He had brown eyes with flecks of amber fire. They were piercing. They made me feel exposed and vulnerable. I know that face. It's Damian!"

Aimee screamed in absolute horror. She knocked over the incense from the table and began to run toward the stairs and the front of the apartment. She was disoriented and confused, and just plain sick. She passed the bathroom, and darted inside, vomiting blood and acid.

Elsie followed her. "What is it, child?"

"The man in my first life," she said in between retches. "I know him."

"He's vampire?"

Aimee stood up, wiping her face. "I'm sorry about the table."

"I ain't worried about no table, girl." Elsie wiped the edges of Aimee's lips where she had missed some blood.

"Thank you for everything Elsie, but I have to go." Aimee made her way toward the door.

"Be careful, you be real careful."

Aimee stopped at a motel just a few minutes away. She needed to rest. She felt so weak. As she was walking down the sidewalk to her room, she heard footsteps behind her. Everything had begun to blur, she felt confused, and so she just ignored it. She was so weak that she could barely walk. Everything was spinning, and she collapsed on the sidewalk. When she woke up she was lying on the bed in her motel room. The curtains were drawn. She opened them and peered through. It was well into the night. She was starving. It had been days since she last fed. The beast inside her was becoming harder to contain. She got dressed and went out. Her mind was heavy with decisions that needed to be made.

She wasn't sure how to handle everything that had happened. It was hard to see. Her body was so sensitive to everything and the night lights were bright and dizzying. The cars sounded like trains driving past. Their engines were so loud. She felt drawn deeper into town. She stopped as she walked by a night club line. She liked the music, it echoed out into the street. It drew her in. It was dramatic and heavy. The bouncer walked up and down the line of people. He saw her watching him, and his eyes locked with hers.

He walked up to her, "Go on in."

She smiled at him as she walked inside. There was no sock on his face at the sight of her fangs. He smiled back. He was vampire too, the first one who didn't look at her like he wanted to kill her. He admired her body and her presence. It felt good to be accepted, even in that small way.

She let the music sway her body as she entered. It was amazing. She looked at the lead singer. The woman had long straight, black hair, and bright blue eyes. They looked like wolves eyes. She wore a dark red satin corset. Her voice was like nothing else she had ever heard. It was ethereal.

Then, the stage door caught her eye. It wasn't guarded, so she didn't walk inside. There was a dressing room a few doors down. Luggage trunks lined the right wall. There were many costumes hanging on a tall metal rack. They were beautiful. On the center of the wall at the back of the room was an antique mirror. It was framed in wood, and set atop a vintage vanity table. On one side, there was an open train case full of dramatic make-up. On the other side was everything that a performer could ever need to do their hair. With all that was in the room, one thing caught her attention above the rest. There was a tiny slip of paper tucked into the mirror's frame.

She leaned in to read it. "You are mine. I will never let you go."

Her mouth dropped open, and she stepped back, horrified. She saw him in the mirror, right there behind her. She turned around and he was gone. She ran as fast as she could out of the night club and in the direction of Elsie's. She had come to Louisiana to find out the truth, and she was ready to finish what they had begun together.

She shifted from side to side, waiting for Elsie to come to the door. Dawn was breaking, and the glare from the windows forced her to drop her eyes. She felt exposed, standing there in the open. She could feel him near her. She looked around to see if he had followed her. Tears rolled down her face. Her eyes were so sensitive to the sun. Where was he? She scanned every alley and doorway. She couldn't see him Maybe she had imagined it. IT was so hard to focus. Her thoughts were broken fragments. "Come on Elsie," she thought, "open the door."

She rushed through the door as Elsie opened it, slamming it shut behind her.

Elsie was surprised to see her back so soon. "What's wrong, Aimee?"

"I think he's found me, the man. Somehow I think he's found me." Aimee was shaking, and pale.

"Calm down. Do you know what that would mean? It's probably just your spirit feeling unsettled because we had to end our session early. Come, let's finish and see if we can gain some clarity."

It was pretty clear that there was no turning back now. Aimee followed Elsie back up to the kitchen, and settled into a chair at the table.

"Do you want something to drink before we start?" Elsie offered.

"No, thank you. I'm ready." Aimee just wanted to get started.

Elsie lit the incense again, and sat down to compose herself. Aimee watched her curiously. "It's Myrrh. It will protect us." Elsie took a few moments, and then asked "Marc doesn't know you're here does he?"

Aimee felt ashamed. She looked down as she answered, "No."

"Well then, let's be finished with this and get you back to him."

That sounded wonderful right now. Aimee shook her head in agreement, and then reached out to place her hands in Elsie's. Elsie took in a deep breath of the incense and exhaled a puff of sweet smelling smoke in Aimee's direction. Instantly, she could feel herself falling backward. She hit the water in her mind's eye, and it engulfed her. She felt no pain, just something pulling her farther and farther down. It had the shape of a woman. She had blonde hair and bright green eyes. She was beautiful, but definitely not human. Her skin shimmered in the water. She never spoke, but her presence was comforting.

"What's happening?" Elsie asked.

"I think I'm dead." Aimee's expression wasn't sad or happy, just flat.

"I need you to find your body. Where is it?"

"I don't want to go back there." Aimee was not about to leave the water. It was freedom.

"Where are you now?"

"With the woman in the water, but she's leaving, swimming back up into the light."

"Follow her." Elsie urged.

"We're on the beach now. She's climbing up the hill, back to the castle. The sky is getting dark." Aimee tried to absorb every detail. "I can hear something. Men are arguing."

"What are they saying?"

Aimee's stance changed. She squared her shoulders. Her voice took on an eerie low tone. She was channeling their conversation.

"I come home to find my wife dead, and you are telling me that you won't give her a catholic funeral. You tell me she cannot be buried in our family cemetery?"

"She has sinned, my Lord. Her soul is damned. She took her own life, Dacian."

"It was an accident! She wouldn't have jumped. I don't care what you say. She will have a funeral with honor."

"I cannot allow her to be placed in hallowed ground. It would be a desecration."

She could see them. They were standing in the small chapel room. Her body was laid on the altar in front. Dacian spoke with the priest and two other men. He was angry. Things were moving so quickly, like fast forward. Their voices began to blur together. It was harder and harder to concentrate.

"She is my wife!"

"It doesn't matter. I'm sorry, Dacian, nothing can be done. She cannot be forgiven."

Dacian's eyes darkened. He looked back at the men, clenching his jaw. "And who are you to grant mercy?!"

They could see the change in him. Fear swept over the priests. They tried to run, but he cut them down, each one of them. He disappeared for a few minutes and got some rope. He was crying. He tied it around the priests, binding them together, and hung them from the rafters so that their blood drained into the buckets that he had lined up on the floor.

He sat curled around his knees. "No, no. This isn't happening. No!"

He used their blood to draw a circle around the altar. Then, he mixed some with a bit of ash from the fire.

Aimee looked at Elsie. "He's putting the blood and the ash on my forehead."

Elsie nodded in understanding. "A Tilak. The third eye. He is opening the eye so that he can burn the three afflictions to ashes. When he does this, all the sins committed in the previous lives are also burnt. He's trying to save you from hell. He wants to bring your soul near in some level of consciousness."

Aimee was trying, but she did not understand what Elsie was talking about. "Why would he do that?"

"What do you see now?"

"He is standing. I can hear him speaking." Aimee repeated the words as she heard them to Elsie. "Spirits of the North, East, South, and West, Old ones of the Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, I call upon you. Guard and protect this circle with your power mighty ones."

The green eyed woman was there, dripping with water. She tried to approach, as if she were going to take the girl's body back with her to the safety of the sea. She could not enter, but she waited, just outside the circle. Dacian walked over to Elizabeta's body, stroking her hair with his hand. "My wife was taken in tragedy. I need guidance. Guiding spirits I ask your empathy, lend me your focus and your clarity. Lead me to what I need to find. Restore to me that which is mine."

A crowned man appeared within the circle. He looked very much like a gentleman. He spoke with authority and charisma. "I know what you seek. You've lost something very precious to you. I can bring her back." A smile swept across his face, "for a price."

"I can pay you whatever you want." Dacian had always been wealthy. Price was never a bigger obstacle to him than his own desire.

"I can bring her back to you. I will mark her for you, follow her, through her rebirths." The man walked toward him, slowly, along the outer edge of the circle.

"How would I know her in another lifetime?" Dacian was no fool. If it were not in this man's power to bring her to life right there, then he needed to know how his offer would serve the purpose of having her back.

"You will not die. I have a proposition for you, great warrior. I offer immortality. You will be able to gather your own army, a powerful, eternal army."

"For what purpose?"

"The same as you have followed for yourself for all this time, for power, and for territory."

Dacian was skeptical. Why would this man offer him such power? "Then what is it that you stand to gain? Who are you?"

The man was proud to answer. He spoke clearly, with his head held high. "I am Zaebos. I govern the thirty legions. I have the power of love and of desire. Your immortality has its own cost. You will feed on the weak. You will build your empire on their bodies. You will have power unimaginable."

Dacian tried to think, to focus on the words that were spoken. "How do you benefit in giving me such power?"

The man continued to smile. "I like to see the strong destroy that which is too feeble to stand on its own. You are a born leader, the perfect commander for such an army."

Dacian thought he was beginning to see what was happening. The man must not be able to enter this realm and lead such an army of his own. "I see, but I must be willing to accept this "gift."

The demon laughed. Dacian was witty for a human, especially one who was not in much of a position for negotiating. "Ah, yes." He motioned toward Elizabeta. "How important is it to you to hang onto this pretty creature?"

It was about more than her beauty. Dacian viewed her as a possession. She belonged to him. His pride would not allow her to run away from him. She had tried to escape him in death, but in doing so, drew herself closer to him than ever before. He accepted the demon's offer. He became vampire that very night. The demon kept his word and marked her spirit, Dacian's tragic child bride. She was his and not even death could free her from his obsessive control.

# Just Walk Beside Me

Marc pulled open the side drawer and began frantically flipping through the papers. "Here it is!"

He had turned to the back of a small notebook and found the number for the airline. He was breathing more quickly and his hands shook as he dialed the phone. "I need to book a flight. Yes, to New Orleans. As soon as possible. Marcus Trudeau. Thank you."

Enric walked up beside him. "Did you book the flight?"

"Yes." Marc let out a deep sigh. He tried to think of all the things that he needed to do.

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Can you pack a bag for me? There are some things that I want to look over before I head to the airport to pick up Liam." Marc's expression was very serious. He was trying to plan for every angle.

"Of course, consider it done." It was a small thing that Marc had asked of him, but if Enric could be of help in any way it took his mind off of the events. It made him feel needed and useful, and he was happy to do it.

"Thank you, Enric." Marc took the book that Liam had given Aimee, and went up to the library. He sat there on the floor thumbing through the pages. There was so much about his good friend that he never knew. He knew that Liam was an immortal. He knew that Liam possessed great knowledge, but some kind of Archangel? He still didn't even understand exactly what Liam was. After all the years that Marc had known him, why had he chosen to open up to Aimee about it? He also wondered if the book had anything to do with why Aimee left.

As he flipped through the pages, a picture fell out onto his lap. It was a snapshot from that night at the Eiffel Tower. It was before Damian, and all of this. They looked so happy. His heart ached. He missed her. Marc drove alone to the airport. He wasn't sure if Liam would go with him to Louisiana or not. For the most part, Liam remained a fairly neutral observer when it came to vampires and their issues with one another.

He remembered the day when he and Liam first met. He had been fighting with Damian's army for many months. They were camped a short distance out from the next string of small villages that they had set out to destroy. A group of roman soldiers approached. There were many officers and a single commander led in front. He had a deep red crest on top of his helmet. It was mounted transversely, and the metal on his greaves clinked as he dropped to the ground from his mount. The man had entered their camp, riding to the center of it before dismounting. Damian came out to meet him.

It was clear that Damian recognized the man. He did not draw his sword. "Liam. Have you come to spoil our fun?"

The stranger was in no mood for banter. "I need to speak with you, Damian."

"By all means," Damian stretched out his arm in the direction of his tent, welcoming Liam inside. A few moments passed, and then Damian opened the door and asked Marc to come inside. "Marcus, there is someone that I would like you to meet."

Marc was a little apprehensive about entering the tent. Damian sat across the fire from Liam, drinking from one of the few wineskins that they had with them. Marc took a seat opposite them. "Ah, there you are. Liam, this is Marcus. He is a new brother in arms."

"Good to meet you, Marcus. I am called Liam. Damian and I have known one another for some time now." He was polite, but short and to the point. Marc could appreciate that.

"Yes and now Liam is here to tell us to show mercy to these farmers, and go back to our homes," Damian complained.

Marcus already had gained a great understanding of Damian's lust for blood and riches. He replied as he was expected to. "Well why would we do that?"

Damian motioned to Marc, "See, A man after my own heart." He was pleased that Marcus had adapted to his way of thinking so quickly.

Marc took a drink and then looked down at the fire. "Besides, we have no homes."

Liam looked over at Damian. He was tense. His jaw was tight. "Don't you think this would be better discussed in private?"

"There is nothing left to discuss." Damian passed the wine to Liam.

Liam did not drink, but held the wine in his hand as he spoke. "Take my advice, Damian." He handed the wine back to Marc. "Well met, Marcus."

With that, Liam left. He had made quite an impression on Marc that night. The next morning, Damian had everyone pack up. Damian didn't seem to care about anyone's opinion, but he respected Liam much more than most. Instead of returning to his home in Spain, though, Damian took Marc to Romania to learn more about what he had chosen to become.

It was nearly a year before he saw Liam again, but he did sometimes wonder about the bold, sober commander that had brought even Damian into obedience. Marc's mind whirled as he waited for Liam to get off of the plane. He was glad Liam was coming, he would be a valuable help. On the other hand, Marc wondered if he should be more worried that Liam rushed so quickly to America. Something very terrible was going on, and if Liam's arrival were any indication, it was a much more dire situation than he had even imagined.

Liam searched the crowd as he got off the plane. Marc's stomach was tight. He had begun to feel much more anxious. Liam was avoiding looking him in the eye, and he noticed.

"Welcome, Liam. Thank you for coming," Marc approached him cautiously.

"I had no other choice when I heard what happened." Liam considered Marc among the few that he called friend.

"Yes, you did." Marc smiled at Liam in appreciation. He needed Liam, and he wanted him to know that he appreciated that Liam recognized that, and that he cared enough to come.

"Is there any news?"

"Not yet, but I've decided to take a trip to New Orleans and see if Elsie can offer any information." He wasn't sure how Liam would feel about this idea, but it was the best one he had.

"I'm coming with you." Liam's response was immediate. There was no way that he wasn't going along to see this through.

Marc pulled some tickets out of his jacket. "I bought two, in case you decided to go."

"I want to help you find her." Liam gave Marc a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"I appreciate that you're here Liam, but I can't help but wonder what you know that I do not."

Liam smiled. "You're clever, old friend. I did not mean to alarm you by coming here, but I believe that Aimee may be in great danger. I know what she means to you. Don't worry, we will find her."

Marc didn't bother to press Liam for details. He knew that Liam only ever said as much as he needed to say at the time, never more, never less. He had known him long enough to trust his judgment. Being that this concerned Aimee, trusting Liam's judgment said a lot about Marc's opinion of him.

The plane ride was fairly quiet. So many thoughts were running through both of their minds that neither of them spoke. There was only one thing that Marc knew of which had the power to draw Liam's singular attention, and that was Damian. He wondered what Damian had to do with this. They had passed his sinister test in Paris. He wondered why Damian would travel to America. It was no great secret that he and Damian had unfinished business, perhaps Liam's arrival had something to do with that. Damian must either be on his way, or else he was already here.

Only once that Marc knew of had Damian ever broken company with the Coven in Europe. They had spent three days and three nights alone and undisturbed in Romania. It was just before they left to travel to Damian's home in Spain, when they began their journey through the forest to the coast. Even the trees seemed evil. They were tall and sharply pointed. There was a perpetual shadow cast over them. The sun never seemed to shine. It was just as well. Marc didn't really want to have to travel under the burning light.

Damian turned to ask him a question before the carriage came to a stop. "Do you trust me, Marcus?"

"I will follow you." His answer was honest, and the best he could give.

"Good. There is much I wish to show you."

Not even the horses wanted to be there. The stone walls were intrusive and towers twisted into the sky. The ground was scorched. There was not one blade of grass, only moss. It looked dead, but it felt alive. The horses pawed and moved impatiently. They seemed afraid. Their dark manes blew in the wind. Their bodies glistened thick with sweat. Maybe he should have been afraid too. They could sense something that he could not at the time. Damian was not a caring mentor. What good is power if you have no one to control? He wanted more than Marc's allegiance. He wanted his utter devotion.

The caretakers had done fairly well. They had preserved the castle in a state of suspended ruin. Damian's wealth had grown exponentially in recent years, and plans were well under way to restore his home to its former glory.

Marc looked around. His eyes searched the grounds. You could feel that there was history there. "What is this place?"

"My home, Marcus." There was a light to Damian's eyes that Marc hadn't seen before. This was something that Damian cared about.

"You bought this?"

Damian laughed. "I never sold it."

"What were you, some kind of prince?" Marc could not understand how something so massive was anyone's home.

"I have always been a warrior," Damian answered.

"Warriors do not often abide in castles by the sea." Marc knew that this was no warrior's home.

"True, I was born nobility by blood. I was always a warrior by nature." Damian did not name his family lineage. He never often spoke of it at all. He looked at his greatest accomplishments as his victory in battle.

Marc noticed the paintings leaned against the walls, they were covered with cloths. "What of your family?"

"I have none." Damian was quick to answer.

"I'm sorry." Marc looked down, he wasn't sure what he should say, or if he had already made a mistake in saying too much.

"I'm not." Damian smiled and looked Marc squarely in the eyes. "This gift has given me so much more. I have wealth, land, and power. What more could a man dream of?"

Marc's thoughts went immediately to Aimee. He let his back slide down the wall, and she sat there a moment on the cold floor before answering. "I once had the love of a beautiful woman. Have you ever been in love, Damian?"

"I was married once, long, long ago." Damian struggled over his words. Every time that he thought of it, the anger in him rose. He left the room abruptly, and walked out onto the courtyard. Marc did not ever bring up the subject of Damian's marriage again. They spent the rest of their time at the castle speaking of other things. This had helped him to see a different side of Damian, someone who clearly carried a deep burden. Their friendship was strengthened over the course of their time there, and Romania was forever etched into Marcus' mind.

# Along Came a Spider

Aimee was shaken, and had taken refuge in a tiny diner near her motel. It was early morning, and the place was empty with the exception of a couple of truck drivers. Aimee walked straight to a booth in the back. She was overwhelmed, and beginning to think that coming to see Elsie wasn't such a good idea at all. She ordered a coffee and stared into the cup as she stirred, a thousand thoughts stirring in her own mind. She missed Marc. She wished that she could feel his arms around her. Her hunger had subsided. She had broken her fast last night. Who was he, the young boy that she killed? She didn't know, or even care at the time. She could see her reflection in the cup. She pushed it away. She was a monster. What had she done?

"For me?" She knew that voice. He was standing over her. Damian sat down beside her, pressing her over toward the window.

She couldn't get out. She couldn't go anywhere. "What are you doing here?"

He took a drink of coffee and turned toward her. His eyes were piercing. She felt like he could hear her thoughts. "You know the answer to that."

"I'm not afraid of you." Aimee squared her jaw. She would not let him intimidate her like this.

He put his arm around her. She wanted to shove it off, but she knew that he knew that she was in fact, very afraid of him. "I beg to differ." He looked deep into her eyes. He knew how to get inside her head like no one had before.

Aimee did not soften her shoulders. She did not give in to him. "I am not something for you to control. I do not want anything to do with you." The memories of their first life were fresh in her mind. He would not take her this time. He would have to kill her.

"Surely you can see that with time, my view of our relationship has evolved?" Damian pretended that they were having a normal conversation.

He spoke to her as if she knew him. She did not, and she did not want to. "Into what?"

"Well love, of course," Damian was almost pleading with her. Surely he wasn't this delusional, "and also a great deal of admiration. I hadn't dreamed of having the chance to watch you in this capacity. You have become such a beautiful predator." He laughed as she dropped her head, ashamed. "What? You didn't think that anyone saw you in the alley?" His voice taunted her. His eyes were so cold, and clearly amused.

Aimee cast her eyes back down at the table. Tears filled them to the brim, but did not spill over. She tried to hold back her emotions.

He continued, "I don't blame you. It's a terrible thing to try and suppress. I could feel your heart beat quicken. I could feel your need, your hunger. You liked it. You were fantastic to watch. It made me want you so much more." His bottom lip relaxed as he described this sick voyeur moment.

He would be a very handsome man, if he wasn't the devil incarnate. He oozed sensuality. He liked to play with her emotions, to make her angry, to scare her, to make her admire him. All of it was about power. "I don't have to justify myself to you." Aimee finally found the strength to fight back the tears.

Damian looked surprised. This was not the reaction he was looking for. "No, you don't. I'm not trying to fix you. I don't think you're broken." He took another sip of coffee, and then continued "Tell me, how long are you to live a lie?"

"What lie?"

Damian was beginning to get angry. He controlled his composure well, but she could see it in his eyes. "Have I not watched you masquerade as his wife long enough?"

"I am his." Aimee was adamant.

"As much as you are mine," Damian's perfect composure began to break. "You have retained some memory of your time with him. You have taken back her name, but in the beginning you were mine. Think about it. He has lived but one lifetime. He remembers and seeks after the woman he loved, which was but one idealized incarnation of you. You have lived many lifetimes, but your soul was first joined with mine. Can you honestly say that you have no attraction to me? You are still drawn to me. I can feel it." He ran his left hand up her thigh under the table.

Aimee's lips curled in disgust at the thought, and at the memories that slammed her. "I was never attracted to you." She didn't care what he did, she pushed his hand away.

"Now, that just breaks my heart." He hid it, but Aimee knew that her rejection hurt him in some small way.

"You have no heart," she answered with absolute certainty.

He laughed to himself, amused by her insight, and the irony of its truth. "You have quite a passionate spirit." If her goal was to provoke him, she had succeeded. He ran his hand back up her thigh, looking deep into her eyes. Then, his tone changed, darkened even further. He pressed in with his fingertips. The pain echoed through her, spilling tears down her face. He leaned in to her ear and whispered, "His persistence is nothing compared to what I will do. I will have you. You belong to me."

Meanwhile, Marc and Liam went straight to Elsie when they got to New Orleans. It had been a while since Marc had seen his good friend. She had been expecting him. She opened the door as they approached. "Come on in, Marc." She looked over at Liam as he passed by. "What business have you here, watcher?"

There was suspicion in her voice. She seemed to have more understanding of who and what Liam was than Marc did. She knew the nature of him. It was interesting that she called him a watcher. He did mostly observe things, rarely intervening. In any case, Marc was unsure what it was that threatened Elsie about him. She was normally such an open and welcoming woman.

Liam was cautious and respectful in his answer. "I am a friend. I am here to help Marc find her."

Ultimately, it seemed that Marc's connection with him was enough to calm Elsie's concerns. As she did with every guest in her home, Elsie led them upstairs and seated them at the table. "Can I get you anything?"

They both declined. Marc had visited Elsie on enough occasions to know the intoxicating nature of her teas. Liam was, of course, very cautious in what he took in anyway. They sat down instead, quiet, and waited on Elsie's direction. She lit the incense and sat down beside them.

Marc spoke first, "I need to know where she is Elsie."

"She's been to see me alright." Elsie knew why they had come, and how grateful Aimee would be that they had found her.

"Where is she now?" The urgency in Marc's voice was well warranted, but Elsie wanted to make sure he knew the whole story before he found her gain.

"She's been staying at the motel down the street, but she aint been there for a while now. We found out some things, Marc, things that me and you need to discuss." Elsie glanced from Mar to Liam. It was clear that she wasn't sure if Marc would want Liam to hear this new information. She was leery of him.

Marc touched Liam's arm, stopping him as he got up to leave. "No, whatever it is, we're here to find her together. Tell me, Elsie."

She had given him fair warning, so Elsie continued, "The life that you shared, it was not her first birth. She lived once before. She was a child bride, taken from her home by force. Her husband, "she stumbled over her words for a moment, "he was very cruel to her. She took her own life to escape him. She wanted to be free. He was a very evil man, you understand."

"It doesn't matter. I know who she is. I need to find her. Where is she?" Marc's shoulders and chest were tight with tension.

Elsie nodded. She would have to accept Marc's decision. He was not ready to face it. She couldn't blame him. She looked deep into his eyes, looking through and past him. She was using his connection to Aimee to see. "She's at a diner one the corner. Something is not right though, she's afraid. Someone's there with her. She wants them to leave, but he won't go."

Marc and Liam jumped up from the table and ran down the dark deserted street. As they passed the diner window, Marc saw her. She was crying, sitting there in a booth with a man sitting beside her. He couldn't see the man's face. He was leaned over, almost in front of her. Marc and Liam raced for the door, bursting in. Marc went straight to Aimee. Liam pursued the man who had been seated beside her. He vanished so quickly.

"Aimee, are you okay?" Marc held her in his arms, and tried to look her over for bruises or cuts.

She was crying. "Marc, I'm so sorry."

He held her tightly. Tears fell quietly from his eyes. He loved her so much. "It doesn't matter. I'm here. You're safe now."

"I just want to go home," Aimee whispered.

"Okay." Marc answered back. He could think of nothing he wanted more.

# Friends in High Places

Needless to say, Liam never caught the man. Aimee never told who he was. Marc didn't ask her. It was so good to be back at their home again. It did make her feel some measure of safety. Its walls felt protective, and Marc's presence by her meant everything. She avoided speaking to Liam. Part of her knew that he knew what was going on. She felt ashamed. She was ashamed of her history, and ashamed that she ran away to New Orleans. It was her fault. She had caused it.

She wanted to sink into herself. Maybe in time, she could forget about it all. It was good to see Natasha and Enric again, though in a way they felt like strangers. It was like this had all happened to someone else instead. So many bad things had happened since she was last at home. She had no idea how to go back, how to even be here again. She was haunted by her memories, the old and the new.

Marc thought that she hadn't fed since they left France. He wanted to believe that she had kept her fast. He needed to see her like he did in his own mind. Hunting, and killing, well that would shatter his image of her as this untouchable thing. He had placed her on a pedestal in his memory. To him, she was perfection, and she struggled with many of the issues of her immortality. Almost immediately after the got home, he sent her in to Enric.

Enric was understanding, as always. "Go ahead, I know you're starving. We'll talk in a little while when you have more energy."

Lack of food was not what drained her, it was the guilt. She should not have run off like that. She brought pain on herself, and on Marc. Some of what Damian had said was true. She hated herself for it. She wasn't worthy of Marc's love. He had idealized her. She couldn't be who he thought that she was. The pressure of it crushed her. He had to know that she wasn't starving. If she was, she surely would be far too ravenous not to kill Enric outright. He had to know, he had just chosen not to believe it. This made her feel even more ashamed, like there was something horribly wrong with her for following her instincts. She began to believe that something was wrong within her that needed to be hidden. She had always believed that there was fundamentally something wrong within her, maybe there was. She wasn't sure if she had morals anymore, if there were any ideals or values left. She wondered if there ever were.

Enric could see the storm brewing in her eyes. He walked over to the bed and sat down. "It's good to have you back, Aimee. Come and sit by me."

She walked over and sat down, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Enric."

He stroked her hair. "Why? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I shouldn't have left. I wanted to know... It doesn't even matter now." She was silent for a moment. She wanted to tell him, but she wasn't sure how. She decided to just be honest. "I'm not hungry." She kept lying on his chest. She was afraid to meet his eyes.

"I know. It's okay now." His voice was calm and comforting.

"That's just the thing, Enric. I don't think it is okay. I feel so much stirring within me. I can't relax."

"Don't feel guilty for feeding, Aimee. You are what you are. It's just nature. You're not a bad person."

Just the sound of those words brought her back to tears. It was nice of him to say it, to try to ease her troubled mind, but it wasn't true for her. "Yes, I am. I am, Enric."

Enric kept holding her, "What are you so afraid of?"

"That if he knew me, he wouldn't love me," there it was, and it was her deepest fear.

"He does know you, Aimee. How could you even think that he didn't?"

Aimee didn't know how to explain the depth of what she had come to learn in a way that he would understand, but she was grateful that he was listening, and she wanted to try. "There is more to my history than my marriage to him. There was a life before mine with him. I was married to a very evil man. In some ways, he still has a hold on me."

"No, Aimee. No one has that kind of power, to reach across so many centuries. It would have been better for you not to know. Don't do this to yourself. You're giving power to this person in dwelling on thoughts of it. "

She couldn't speak freely of it, not even to Enric. If he only understood, then he would see how lost she was. She curled around him. She had missed him. He always listened to her. In many ways, she had more freedom in speaking with Enric than she did with Marc. There was this dark thing between them now. Enric held her in his arms until she felt ready to go downstairs and face Marc again. His friendship meant more to her than he would ever know. He nurtured her soul.

Marc was sitting in the living room talking to Liam. Aimee walked up behind him, running her hands along the couch and across his shoulders. "Are you feeling better now?"

She hugged him tightly. "I am better when I am near you."

He smiled. He knew the pain that she felt inside, but he was glad to hear her words. They reassured him of her love. He never tired of hearing her say it. He kissed her softly. It was a gentle and peaceful moment, but it wouldn't last.

It wasn't long before things began to catch up with Aimee. It had been foolish to think that just being back home would magically bring an end to her torment. In truth, what was happening was much more deeply rooted. France, or New Orleans, it made no difference. She could not escape herself. She needed to face her demons. She just didn't realize how literal that it would become.

The first couple of days drug on slowly. There was tension in the house like she hadn't felt before. She hated secrets. It was hard to enjoy the morning glories or the garden like she did before. Everything seemed tainted. She knew that Marc must feel the change in her. She was sorry to put him through it. Still, ifs she had known a way to make it all disappear she would have done so.

Not only did she deal with the memories of what happened over the last few weeks, but she hadn't been able to sleep lately. She felt restless, and woke up constantly with her heart racing and sweat pouring. The anxiety was overwhelming. She felt like anything could drive her into a panic attack. To make matters worse, the nightmares were becoming more and more frequent and more and more vivid.

She was too afraid to talk to Marc about it. The dreams were so strange and unlike her and how she felt. She didn't want him to misunderstand, or to blame her. She couldn't bare it if he were to blame her. She decided instead to just try and deal with it on her own. She felt so alone. She didn't want to take away the happiness that everyone felt at being back at home. So, she spoke to no one about her nightmares, not even to Enric. They increased over time, in frequency, clarity, and in violence.

"What's wrong?" Marc had woken up as they slept. He could see that something was on her mind. He had hoped that in getting her back home that she would start to improve in mood and in behavior. She hadn't she had only gotten worse.

"I just couldn't sleep." She stared out blankly. She was damp with sweat. Her body trembled, and her breathing was quick. More startling to him than her appearance was the look in her eyes. She was afraid of something.

He held her close. "It's okay now. It was just a bad dream."

She wanted to tell him. She wanted so much to tell him what was happening. She couldn't. It didn't make sense anyway. What a horrible trick that her mind was playing. She knew that it was just a dream, but it felt real. It was always the same dream, over and over again. She was in the forest in France. It was dark, and she was alone. A wind followed her. She could feel something watching her. She kept looking back, but no one was there. It felt like they were closing in on her, running at her faster and faster. She walked quicker down the path, but the faster that she walked the faster that it followed. She could feel its breath on the back of her neck.

A voice whispered in her ear, "You can't run away. There is nowhere to go that I won't follow."

She ran as fast as she could. The light of the moon was bright, but even though she could see what was in front of her it was confusing, and she wasn't sure which way led out. The tree branches slashed at her arms and legs as she pressed through them. Then, she fell. She hit the ground hard, and her head slammed against the cool earth. She was in pain, but she knew that she had to get up. She had to keep running.

He was there when she stood up, standing over her. It was Damian's face. By appearance alone, he was a good looking man. He had strong features and long dark hair. His eyes were two toned and very intriguing. There was a depth to them that made her wonder what he was thinking and about the things he had seen through those eyes. She had always been sensitive to the energy of other people. His energy was very dark. This kept her from letting curiosity place her in his hands. Despite her resistance, he had found her. He had caught her like an animal.

He stood over her, triumphant. "Why are you running, it's pointless?"

Aimee looked up at him, defiant. "Leave me alone."

He knelt down, and shook his head. "No, I can't do that."

"Why? Why me? Why can't you just go?!" She shook in his grasp.

He held her arm tightly. "After all that I have done for you, after all that I have given to bring you back to me again, how dare you ask me such a question? You know why! I gave you everything! I brought you back! I brought you back to me. You are mine. You belong to me, no one else. The sooner you accept that, the easier that it will be for you."

She collapsed on the ground, crying. "Please, just leave me alone."

His impatience was growing with her. He grabbed her by the throat and held her down to the ground, his body pressing down on hers. His eyes changed, they became much more opaque. His fangs were long and sharp. His voice shook her to the core. "I will kill you before I see you with him. You will come back to me, in this life, or in the next. I will take your life as many times as I need to drive you away from him and back home. It is useless for you to behave like this. It will change nothing. I will not go, and I will not let you. I have given too much to have you to let you go."

She knew that it was true. As soon as he said the words, she knew that it was the truth. He had been the reason that her life up until the time that she had met Marc had been so unbearable. Her parents, her childhood, everything had been terribly and perfectly sabotaged by Damian. He could and would make her life a living hell. He had manipulated everyone that she had ever known, and now he was pulling her strings. She was his puppet. There was no place that was unreachable to him, except maybe heaven, and that seemed desperately out of her grasp.

The truth was that there was darkness inside her too. She hid it, but he saw. They were more alike than she would ever wish to admit. She tried to make her mind go blank, to escape to somewhere good. There was no such place, not anymore. He had tainted even her relationship with Marc. She was not safe, not even in her mansion in the wilderness. He was here, after all. She would freeze and tighten just before he touched her, and then she would wake up. She couldn't tell Marc about it. It was her fault. It was her past. Maybe Damian was right. Maybe it was pointless to fight him. It was clear that no one could protect her.

She walked downstairs to get a drink of water and to sit a while. She felt too afraid to sleep. Damian would be there in her dreams waiting for her. He had violated her sacred space. This was her haven. He had no right to be here. She should have the chance to choose. She was not a possession. She did not choose him. He haunted her, like a ghost from her past that refused to die. His words ate at her like a parasite. She wanted to find a way to cut him out, out of her life, and out of her head.

Aimee was convinced that there must be some way to free herself, but she had no idea what it was. Something was obviously wrong inside. There was still so much more to her than even she could grasp. The dark hole inside her was such an intimidating thing. She would have to face it. Understanding herself would be the key to finding a way to escape him, she knew it. She made a decision right there in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. She would embrace that part of herself that scared her the most. Continuing as she was meant death, so she had nothing to lose.

Liam walked in as she put away her glass. "You're up early."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Me either." There was something that he wanted to say, she could see it. Instead he walked over and stood beside her. He always thought so much before he spoke. "Everything okay?"

She smiled. He knew it wasn't. "Not really."

He seemed surprised that she was honest with him. "What's wrong?"

Aimee sighed deeply. "I've been having nightmares since we've been back."

"What kind of nightmares?"

Tears began to well in her eyes at the thought. "I can hear his voice in my head. I know he is still there, watching me, wanting me. He hunts me through the woods. I'm in a forest alone, and he's chasing me, I can never get away."

"Who?" Liam knew, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"You know, don't you Liam? Isn't that why you haven't left to go back to France yet? You know he is here. No one can protect me. He won't stop."

Liam remembered that night in France. "It was him that night when we went back to your village, in the woods? He was what you were running from?"

"Yes."

"And in the diner in New Orleans?"

"Yes."

"He's here now, in your nightmares?" Liam was beginning to piece something together now. Aimee still did not understand.

"Yes." She looked down at the tiles on the floor. So much of her hope was wrapped in Liam's answer to her next question. "What should I do?"

He put his fingers under Aimee's chin, and lifted her eyes to meet his. "I need you to tell me his name, Aimee."

She looked into his eyes. She knew that he had an ancient strength. If anyone could help her, maybe he could. She needed to trust him. "Dacian."

Liam knew the name. She could see it in his eyes. He didn't ask her if she was sure, or any other stupid question. He just nodded in acknowledgement. "Okay. I need to speak with some friends today. I will do what I can to help you find a way to end this. "He walked toward the hall, and turned back. "Have you told Marc?"

"No, I haven't"

"You may wish to."

Telling Marc would be one of the hardest things that Aimee could ever have to do. She knew that she would need to tell him at some point, but she wasn't sure how. He was the best thing in her life, the only light among all the darkness. She wondered if he would still love her when he knew. Then, she felt guilty for ever wondering. He had done nothing wrong, not one thing for him to deserve being questioned like that, especially by her. It came down to one thing really, and that was her doubt. It wasn't that she doubted her love for him, but rather if she was worthy of his love for her. There was the nagging question, would he love her if he knew her? If he really knew everything about her, would he feel the same? She wasn't sure.

She didn't go back to bed right away. Instead she walked out on the patio. It wasn't that long ago that she had stood out there with Marc that first night. It was almost dawn. The light of the sun was barely visible on the horizon. It still stung her eyes. She looked forward to the day that she would be able to watch it again without pain, in her body or in her soul.

Marc watched her from the window. He wondered what she was thinking. There was a space between them now that had begun to fill with each passing day, forcing them further and further apart. It was so hard, but he had to give her this time alone. She needed to sort through some things in her mind. He tried to have faith that she would find her truth, and that she would be present with him again. She was home, but she was gone. She had slipped away from him somehow, despite his best efforts. He lay back down on the bed. He was very tired, but he could not sleep. He waited for her to open up to him again. He wanted to help her, but he didn't know how.

She lingered a while outside, and then slowly she made her way back up to their room. There was a look in Marc's eyes as he watched her cross the room that she had not seen in him before. He looked afraid. She sat down beside him on the bed, and laid her head over on his shoulder.

Curling around him, she began to tell him what she had been hiding. "I'm sorry that I left you there, in Georgia."

He was tempted to push it away, to just say it's okay and not speak of it anymore. It would have done no good to ignore it. He needed to know what was happening with her. Instead of closing down, he searched his heart, and asked the questions that plagued him. "Why did you go, instead of just talking to me?"

He deserved honesty. Aimee knew that. "I didn't think that you wanted to talk about my past, at least not in any objective kind of way. You censored everything, and I wondered what you were hiding?"

Marc didn't want to argue with her. She felt what she felt, and he was glad she was finally talking to him about it. "What did you find?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "That I would have done better to cherish my good memories. I know that you were trying to protect me, and I admire you for that. I wish now that I had let you."

Marc kissed her forehead. "You're safe now. We can put this behind us, have a new start."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sadness, "No, I'm not."

He rose up. "What do you mean?"

"I've been having these really bad nightmares. I can't get him out of my head."

"That life is over. It cannot affect you any more, unless you let it." He didn't understand how some bad dreams were what was coming between them. It was more than that.

"No, it's not. It was not any mortal man. His name was Dacian. We lived together in Romania, many centuries ago."

Marc had begun to piece things together. "No...No...That can't be."

"Marc," she pleaded with him, "It was Damian." She needed him to hear her. It was hard for him, but she needed so much for him to understand. Aimee could not hold back her tears.

Marc felt so sorry that Aimee had believed she had to keep such a secret. He couldn't imagine what she had been going through. He felt guilty. He had delivered her into Damian's hands. How could he be so blind? Things made sense now, looking back, the way his eyes lingered on Aimee, the dress change, the boy, all of it. "How long have you known?"

"Only since I spoke with Elsie."

He hugged her closely. "I'm so sorry, Aimee. I never would have taken you there if I had known."

Aimee pushed free of his hold and looked him eye to eye. "It wasn't your fault."

"I never tried to find out about your past before ours together. I should have, it was an oversight that will cost us both. I knew better. I should have known better." Marc would not accept her comfort. This was his responsibility. She was his responsibility.

"It doesn't matter. There was no way to know. I wish we didn't, either of us." Aimee would not let him shoulder this.

"Has he spoken to you?"

She looked down. You could call it that. "Yes."

"What has he told you?"

It was almost too painful to discuss this with Marc. "He says that I belong to him."

Anger rose in Marc's eyes. She had never seen him like that before. There was such a storm beneath his calm demeanor. "What do you want to do?"

Aimee laughed softly. "Kill him." She did really want to kill him. She wanted to be free. "I spoke with Liam this morning, and he thinks he knows what to do to help me."

"Then, I need to speak with Liam." Marc stood up to go find his friend.

"Go ahead, I'll wait for you."

She had no way of knowing how comforting her words were. It was difficult to learn the truth of what was happening, but it gave Marc hope that their relationship was well. He was ready to help her find a solution. He was happy that she was able to be open with him. He loved her more than she could ever know. Her past, no matter how horrible could never change that.

Liam had just hung up the phone when Marc entered the living room. Liam could see from the look in his eyes that he knew, at least part, of what was going on. He was glad that he had followed his intuition and stayed in America. He was certain that he was the only one who would be able to help his friend. He needed to begin preparing right away, but he waited a moment. He knew that Marc needed to talk about this. "So, she told you?"

"Yes, just now." Marc valued Liam's advice, and he sought it now. "What should we do?"

"I've contacted two friends of mine. They should get here later today. I know of only way to help you." Liam had never been one for lengthy speeches.

"I don't understand." This all seemed to make sense to Liam. Marc was still completely confused.

"She's been marked. It's like a brand on her spirit. It is seared deep into her subconscious. It connects her to him. That is why her lives have been so tragic, and it is why she won't be able to get away from him, no matter where she goes, or how much time passes." Liam tried to explain as quickly and simply as possible.

"Even if he wanted to, how would he do such a thing?" Marc knew that power, especially over humans was closely watched by God and his agents.

"He made a deal with a demon. The demon agreed to mark Aimee and bring her back to him." This was the only answer. This was not God's work. It wasn't the way he liked to do things.

"Why would a demon care about what Damian wants?"

"In return he must have been asked to pay a price. Damian's life has been filled with evil toward men. I'm sure that it is no coincidence."

This was one of those times that Marc valued the extent of Liam's understanding. His old friend was as wise as he was strong and powerful. "How can we stop it?"

"I'll need to use your attic."

"Of course." Marc would have agreed to anything. Liam could have asked for his life and he would have given it to save her.

"If you want to be there, you must stay back. You cannot interfere." Liam held his eye contact. This was very important.

"I am grateful for your help. I will do whatever you ask of me."

Liam nodded. He knew that Marc meant what he said. What else could he do but submit to Liam? He had no control in this. He could not begin to grasp an understanding of what was happening that even neared Liam's understanding of the situation. Despite his confusion, he trusted Liam with this. He had to believe that whatever he was going to do would work. He had to believe that there was some way out of this terrible situation.

Liam put his hand on Marc's shoulder. "There are some things that I'll need to know in order to do what I'll have to do."

Marc nodded in agreement. "Okay. What can I do to help?"

"I'll need to speak with Aimee. It will be hard for her. It might be easier if you are there."

Marc's heart was heavy walking up the stairs ahead of Liam. Aimee was so emotionally drained already. He hurt for her. He knew that this would only cut deeper into her wounds. There was nothing he could do but be there for her. Liam would not have asked if it were not necessary.

While Marc was downstairs, Aimee was overwhelmed by fatigue. She tried so hard to stay awake. The thought of falling asleep, knowing that he was still there waiting, was terrifying. Still, her body cried out for rest, and her head fell back onto the pillow. There she was in the wilderness, walking. It always started out so peacefully. It was serene. The breeze was light and cool. It made the trees sway gently.

There is something different about night air. It's crisp and clean, and it flows right into you. Automatically, you breathe in more deeply, feel your lungs expand with it. It's decadent, like some luxurious indulgence. The moonlight falls on everything, making it all look more magical, more romantic. You could believe that the earth is alive during these times. It is so beautiful. She would have enjoyed it more if she didn't know what was coming. He was there. She could feel it in the force of the wind against her neck. She could see it in the shadow that cast slowly behind her, darkening the path. This time she didn't even run. She knew that he would catch her.

She felt his face beside of hers, his breath in her ear. "Are you warming to me?"

"Not in the least." She tightened her body as much as she could.

He looked her over. "You seem much more reasonable in any case."

"I want to talk with you." She looked at him.

He backed off a little. "What is it?"

"I can't take this anymore, it needs to stop."

He laughed. "You know how to make it stop."

This was not going well, but at least he wasn't touching her. "Can we make a deal of some kind?"

He was thinking, trying to figure out what her plan was. "So, you would like to negotiate?"

"I want you to let me go."

"Then we are at a standstill, because I will not do that."

She furrowed her brow, and pleaded him to reconsider. "Would it not be better for you to take a companion from the coven, someone willing to pledge their devotion to you?"

"Their minds are weak, and they lack our history." He ran his hands through her hair, and down her neck and shoulders. "There was a time that you made me very happy."

There were many reasons that she dove out of that window, and into the sea. Her soul was in torment. She could not escape Damian's domination. It was a lot like now. There were details that she had never shared. Only her thoughts were private, she didn't even have that now. He could see into her mind. He could hear her thoughts, and twist them. She could feel him in her head. She tried to think of nothing. He backed her into a tree, and he placed his hands beside her head, pinning her down.

"What are you thinking of?" His playfulness quickly turned to rage. "What? I have no children, except those that I have turned with my own blood."

Aimee smiled in satisfaction. At last, she found something that hurt him. She had that if nothing else. She was surprised that he never knew. "I was pregnant when I leapt into the sea."

"No." Damian seemed taken back. His mouth fell open. He could not believe that she kept this from him. He would have known, surely. "You're mistaken. I would have seen it."

"It had already begun to move inside me when I died." She watched his face change. A storm raged in his eyes.

He lost control. He hit her across her right cheek. The blow fell hard. It drove her head back against the tree. She cried out in pain. It dropped her to her knees. His ring had ripped through her skin. It was a black onyx ring, set in gold, and bore the emblem of his family. The wound stung and began to bleed. "You bitch! How could you do that to your own child?"

She stood up, screaming. "It was not mine! Nothing was mine. It was the spawn of a monster, and I hated every second that I felt it growing inside of me."

He raised his hand to hit her again, but stopped himself.

She wiped the blood from her face and continued. "I hate you. Leave. Go back to the coven in Europe. We can yet find peace apart from one another."

"You will find no peace apart from me."

Aimee woke up suddenly with a gasp for air, sitting up in bed. She saw Liam walking into the room behind Marc. She knew that it must be something serious. She could still feel the sting on her face where Damian had struck her. She wiped her cheek and looked at her hand, expecting to see blood.

"Aimee, are you alright?"

"Just another bad dream." She tried to reassure Marc. Worrying him would do no good. She could see it in his eyes that something big was happening. "Liam would like to ask you some questions."

The idea of discussing things was a little scary in itself, but Marc must think that it had to be done, or he would not have asked. He sat beside her at the head of the bed, his arms around her. Liam sat at the foot of the bed, facing them. "I need to know what you saw the night that you died. I need to know every detail. Do not leave out anything, even if it seems unimportant."

Aimee nodded in understanding. Some things would be hard for Marc to hear, but Aimee would be glad for him to know the truth. She took a second to compose herself, and then she began to retell the story. She closed her eyes. "It's sometime in the afternoon. Dacian is coming home today. I'm in our room. He locks me in every time he leaves, like an animal. I want to get out. I want to be free. I can hear the birds outside my window. I can hear the rush of the ocean, and the waves beating on the rocks beneath the castle.

My thoughts are interrupted. I can feel it moving inside of me. You're supposed to be happy when you're with child. I'm not. It's just another manifestation of his invasion. He'll know soon. It will be just one more thing for him to torment me with. I hate it, almost as much as I hate him. It's all too overwhelming. I jump. I felt free for once. I wasn't afraid. I actually enjoyed the fall, and then the water engulfed me. I can feel arms around my waist, pulling me down, under the waves. They are small arms, but they are strong, the arms of a woman. She has blonde hair, and amazing green eyes. She's comforting to me. She welcomes me as a sister. I think that she understands my pain. I want to stay with her, but as the sky grows dark, casting darkness over the water, I feel her being drawn upward. I follow her. I don't want to, but I am compelled to reach the shore, and so I follow her. We pull ourselves out of the water and crawl up the steep hill to the castle. We walked down the corridors, following the sound of Dacian's voice. Her feet left wet foot prints with each step, as she walked ahead of me.

Dacian is arguing with other men. They say that I'm damned. They refuse to give me a Christian funeral. He murders them all. He cut down each one brutally. When all the priests are dead, he collects their blood and used it to mark out a circle around the altar. My body is lying there. I look peaceful. I could almost gloat. I found a way to take back my power. I was free of him. He was leaning over me, saying something. It sounded like a prayer of some sort. He mixed a paste from herbs and ash from the fire and pressed it onto my forehead with his thumb. He kissed my face. I was so happy that I couldn't feel it.

Next, he stepped back. He walked purposefully from one part of the circle to the next. He stopped across from the altar and poured a handful of dirt from a glass. It fell slowly through his fingertips. "Spirits of the North, Old ones of the Earth, I call upon you to attend my circle. Guard it with your powers Mighty Ones."

Walking counter clockwise, he stopped to pour water onto the old stone floor. "Old ones of the West, Spirits of Water, I call upon you to attend my circle. Guard it with your powers Mighty Ones."

Continuing around the circle, again Dacian stopped. He lit a candle, "Old ones of the South, Spirits of Fire. I call upon you to attend my circle. Guard it with your powers, Mighty Ones."

One last time, he walked around the circle, at the window he stood still and spoke. "Old ones of the East, Spirits of the Air, I call upon you to attend my circle. Guard it with your powers Mighty Ones."

The wind began to howl violently through the window. The earth and water had begun to circle on the floor and travel upward, winding. In a moment, the wind stopped, the candle blew out, and the earth and water fell to the floor. Even in the darkness he continued to speak.

"By the earth that is her body

By the air that is her breath

By the fire of her spirit

By the waters of her womb

As above, so below,

The circle is made whole.

My wife was taken in tragedy. I need guidance. Guiding spirits I ask your empathy, lend me your focus and your clarity. Lead me to what I need to find. Restore to me that which is mine."

Even the candles outside the circle had gone out from the force of a great wind. It was dark, and the air was heavy. The woman from the sea stands just outside the circle. Her hair is still dripping wet. I don't think she can reach him. She looks like she could kill him."

Aimee looked up at Liam. This was so hard to do. She knew that these memories were past, that it was over, but it still felt so real to her even hundreds of years later. Marc ran his hand up and down her forearm. It meant a lot to her to have him here. He hadn't found a way to protect her from Damian, but she knew he was trying, and she loved him all the more for it.

Recalling the events of her past life was painful, but renewed by the comfort that she had in Marc, Aimee continued in describing every detail to Liam. "A voice begins to speak. It is low, like the voice of a man, but it carries a strange echo. There is power in the words, controlled force.

"Dacian, why have you called me here?"

"I am Zaebos, the Grand Count of Hell. I govern the thirty legions of spirits and cause the love of women to men, and men to women."

The figure emerged from the darkness. He appeared dressed in black from head to toe. He walked with confidence, and had a bit of noble swagger. He wore a ducal crown upon his head, and on his back was a great sword with intricate flames etched into the blade. He was handsome, but with haunting eyes. Despite is gallant, and seemingly gentle disposition, I was very afraid, and trembled as he continued to speak.

"I have called on you because something of mine was taken. I want it back."

"I know what you seek. You've lost something very precious to you. I can bring her back." A smile swept across his face, "for a price."

"I can pay you whatever you want." Dacian answered.

"I can bring her back to you. I will mark her for you; follow her, through her rebirths." The man walked toward him, slowly, along the outer edge of the circle.

"How would I know her in another lifetime?"

"You will not die. I have a proposition for you, great warrior. I offer immortality. You will be able to gather your own army, a powerful, eternal army."

"For what purpose?" Dacian asked.

"The same as you have followed for yourself for all this time, for power, and for territory."

"Then what is it that you stand to gain?"

The man was proud to answer. He spoke clearly, with his head held high. "Your immortality has its own cost. You will feed on the weak. You will build your empire on their bodies. You will have power unimaginable, but you will serve my hunger. Take back your woman, destroy your enemies, but your soul will be mine, and those of your conquests."

"How do you benefit in giving me such power?"

The man continued to smile. "I like to see the strong destroy that which is too feeble to stand on its own. You are a born leader, the perfect commander for such an army."

"I see, but I must be willing to accept this "gift.""

The demon laughed. "Ah, yes." He motioned toward me. "How important is it to you to hang onto this pretty creature?"

Dacian thought about it, looking over toward me. He paused but a moment, and then he accepted the demon's offer. "I will serve you well."

The dark, shadowy figure approached Dacian. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he tilted his head back, and bit deep into his throat. The blood ran down his body, then, he drew his sword, and with its blade, he opened his forearm letting blood pour onto Dacian's limp body. It ran down his face and over the wound on his throat. His body convulsed violently. He dropped to his knees, his head bowed to the floor.

"Rise, human, you are no longer mortal." Wiping the blood from his face, the Demon approached the altar, he put his hands over my body. I could feel the weight of it on my chest. "Adeo mihi, filia of vir. Come to me, Daughter of Man."

I fought him as much as I could, but he was pulling me back toward my body. The woman rushed toward him.

He looked back at us, like he could see us. "Back sea spirit! She is not yours. Give her up from your waters."

The woman shrieked with an unimaginable tone. It sounded partly human, and partly like some ocean creature. She was furious. The demon reached his arm backward. A great wind rushed toward the woman and threw her backward onto the floor. She climbed out of the window, and was gone. Then, he turned to face Dacian, who looked up at him. His eyes flashed. His pupils were elongated like a cat, and they had taken on an inhuman opaqueness.

"We're almost finished." The demon used his finger to write on her thigh. It seared the flesh like a fire brand. "She is marked now. I will follow her, and I will bring her back to you."

Aimee looked up at Liam, having finished telling him everything. Her eyes welled with the pain of the memory of it.

"Thank you, Aimee. You have told me all I needed to know."

Her voice was low, and breaking. "Can you help me, Liam?"

"I have faith that I can. I believe that I am the only chance that you have."

Aimee looked over at Marc. She wondered how he would react to learning what she did. He had always said that her past didn't matter, but she noticed that he didn't look her in the eye and it felt like rejection. She wondered if he thought worse of her now. She thought too quickly. He took a moment, glancing out of the large window, and when he looked back at her she knew that she had misjudged him. There was compassion in his eyes. She could feel his love for her. She didn't deserve it, but she had finally come to accept it. It felt wonderful.

Just then, Enric entered and called out to Liam. "Your friends are here."

He rose immediately to go down and meet them. Aimee watched them from the window. There were two men who got out of the big black car. They had on dark jeans and black tee shirts under dark overcoats. They reminded Aimee of Liam, which was strange because she had always thought of him as such a unique being. They spoke a moment with one another. His friends must have also possessed Liam's knowing spirit, because the man in the center glanced up, looking directly into Aimee's eyes. She drew the curtain in a bit to try and hide herself.

Marc walked up beside her. He held her close and kissed the side of her face. "I should go and meet them."

"I'll go with you."

They were standing in the hallway when Marc and Aimee reached the bottom of the stairs. "Welcome, any friends of Liam's are friends of mine. You can use the sitting room to prepare. If you need anything let me know."

"We will, thank you," said the man at the center.

While Liam sat talking to his friends, Aimee wondered what they were saying behind those closed doors. How much hope was there for her really? Things seemed so severe.

Marc noticed that Aimee was staring toward the parlor doors. He gently pushed the hair back from her face. "They'll find a way to stop this."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I know, because in all the years that I have roamed this earth I have never seen him interfere in the matters of vampires so actively. He is devoting so much of himself. I have heard stories of the men he called, but I had never met them until today. Some refer to them as the "trinity." They deal with the darker side of Christianity, things that have faded far out of public conscience over the centuries."

Aimee was curious, "What sort of things?"

"They understand many things: the passage of the spirit from this world to the next, and the passage of spirits within this world. They are said to have studied demonology, runeology, possession and exorcism, and even necromancy."

This new information lent a depth to Liam that she hadn't considered before. His past with his friends, this "trinity", explained a lot. Liam was very broody. He always seemed to be lost in thought. For every question that this information answered it raised twice as many more.

Aimee was intrigued to learn more, "How did they learn of such things?"

The excitement showed in Marc's eyes as he spoke. This was clearly a topic that interested him as well. "They learned of it first hand, if you believe in legend. The ancient scrolls are said to tell of them and their workings in these subjects."

Aimee leaned forward, engrossed in what Marc was saying, "Which ancient scrolls are you talking about?"

"It is the only reputable record of immortals held by men. They are kept in the Vatican, in Rome." Marc spoke in a whisper.

"I had never heard of such a record."

"Few have heard of its existence. I once had a great friend in a human priest. He was part of an order of mortal protectors that were in charge of those records kept by the Catholic Church. I learned of the scrolls through him."

"A human priest seems like a strange friend for someone like us."

Marc nodded in agreement, "I had saved what was left of his family, he and his younger brother, during one of Damian's raids. I looked after them until they grew old and passed away." Marc's gaze drifted. She could see that he remembered them fondly.

"Why did you save them?"

"To this day, I am not sure. It just felt like the right thing to do at the time."

Aimee smiled. His compassion and sense of conscience wee some of the things that she loved most about Marc.

Marc paused a moment, and then continued "I learned a lot from him. He joined with the Order shortly after the attack on his village. It was a good place to raise his brother. He helped me to find a sense of peace within myself that I hadn't felt in a very long time."

"I wish that I could have met him."

Marc nodded in agreement, "Yes, you would have shared many long talks I'm sure of spirituality, and humanity, and such things."

"You have met so many interesting people. You've experienced so many things in your travels." She just stared at him in awe, wishing she had been there to know some of them.

"I hope to share many new adventures with you, once we put the past to rest."

"I look forward to that very much."

Aimee kissed his lips lightly. She could not wait until the day that their greatest concern would be their next destination.

A couple of hours passed before the men had finished their business in the parlor. It would not be long until dusk. His two friends went ahead of Liam to prepare the attic space for their ritual. Liam went out into the woods by himself to pray and prepare. By now, Aimee's hunger had begun to grow. It was the same with Marc, and so they decided to retire with Enric and Natasha before the ceremony began.

Natasha had a great sense of understanding which Marc liked very much. She was a lovely human, to be sure. Her family was of perfect reputation, and proper breeding. It showed in the way that she carried herself. Marc noticed it now, as she crossed the room toward him.

"How are you this evening, Marc?"

Marc released the breath he had been holding. Just as Enric had become a confidant to Aimee, Natasha was to Marc. "My spirit is troubled."

"You worry about tonight?"

Marc shook his head, "No, I worry for her."

"Put yourself at ease. You have searched diligently, and waited so long to join yourself to her again. You are meant to be together." She always spoke with wisdom well beyond her few mortal years. It did help to put his mind at ease to speak with her.

In Aimee's room, Enric decided to try another tactic with his friend. He did not lead the conversation, but instead remained silent. He undressed to the waist and sat down on the bed. Aimee sat down beside him, and ran her fingers across his torso. It had been a long time since she had fed. He longed for her, just as she hungered for his blood. This aspect of their agreement he had failed to anticipate. He had missed her, craved her, perhaps more than she had even thought of him. A fleeting moment of pain wracked through him, and then gave way to a great wave of pleasure as she fed. He wanted to be there for her, for whatever she needed. At the moment, she needed blood more than discussion. It wasn't that he loved her more than Natasha. Natasha was his world. It was more that this was a different kind of relationship altogether. It wasn't really love, not in the traditional sense. He cared about her, and he needed her. She needed him. It had more to do with other needs that the relationship fulfilled. It was a unique relationship between them. It gave him a greater sense of purpose. It excited him, and it helped him feel complete. After it was over, she cleaned the wound, and wiped the blood from her lips.

Looking at her, he decided to ask what he was wondering. "Are you going to be okay with them tonight?"

"Yes."

He took her hand. "I am here for you if you need me."

She knew that he was. There was no pressure when she was with them. Their relationship, no matter how difficult to define, meant equally as much to both of them.

Marc and Aimee met back up by the stairwell leading up to the attic. Aimee took in a deep breath, as they made their way up the stairs, slowly, together. Marc held her had tightly in his. Whatever it was that Liam was about to do would mean a change that would affect them both for better or for worse.

The room was bright with the light of dozens of candles which lined the walls. In the center of the room on the hardwood floor, Liam had marked out in chalk, the Star of David. Salt traced out a circle following its points, and in the middle sat Liam. His feet were folded beneath him, and he raised his arms to shoulder level. His head was bowed as if in prayer. He was turned away from them, facing the only window, and the setting sun. His body was bare from the waist up. You couldn't help but notice the tattoos that were etched into his skin. The colors were vibrant, and the figures were quite unusual. Centered between his shoulder blades was an ankh. The ankh itself was done in brown and red ink, and the shape at the top of the anchor cross held a captivating eye.

"The Eye of God," Marc spoke in a low whisper. He must have noticed her stare. "It's the Eye of God, it represents the spirit. The brown and red are the Holy Spirit and the earth. The halo above it in yellow and orange are heaven. Yellow is a Celtic symbol of light and purity, and orange is passion tempered by wisdom. I am sure that Liam must control himself in this way to do what he is asked to do.

Below the ankh, two fish, inked in bright blue and green, curved around each of his sides, they were beautiful, and almost seemed to be in motion.

"What are the fish?" She whispered softly in Marc's ear.

"They represent Christianity, humanity's connection to God. The blue is hope, and the green is freedom."

On his left bicep was a white horse, and an oak tree. On his right arm were holly, and a dark unicorn. Aimee thought for a moment, but couldn't figure out what they might represent. These tattoos were especially meaningful to Marc because they were Celtic symbols. The oak and the white horse represented the light part of the year in Celtic tradition, and also the light aspect of man. The oak represents the journey of man from what he is, to what he was meant to become. The holly represents eternity, and the eternal spirit of man. The unicorn is the white horse, which has become powerful and rules over the darkness.

To either side of Liam was each of his friends. They wore dark robes with white priest's collars. They knelt down in earnest prayer. There was an energy that filled the room. There was a cumulative power between them. Despite their strength, Aimee began to worry for Liam. He looked so vulnerable there alone in the center of the circle. The prayers of his brothers interlaced and merged into a low, singular voice.

Finally, Liam's voice stood out in a prayer of his own. "My God, Father in heaven, and Creator of heaven and earth, I praise you with all of my heart, mind, and soul. Be with your servant I pray, as I fulfill your will for my life. Strengthen me Lord, and give me the wisdom that I need as I enter into battle. I am your vessel. Guide my hand."

As he rose to his feet, Aimee could see that he had taken up a sword which lay in front of him. The handle was bound in black leather, and embossed with golden vines of ivy which ran from the handle, partway up the blade itself. At the base of the handle was a strange gem. It looked like blown glass, but inside it swirled with many moving colors. The blade was sharp, and glinted with the last rays of the setting sun. He held the blade at his chest, and kneeling again, began to recite scripture from the book of Revelations in the Holy Bible, chapter five.

As he spoke a wind began to blow. "And now they sing a new song, saying, You are worthy to take the scroll and to break the seals that are on it, for You were slain, and with Your blood You purchased men unto God from every tribe and language and people and nation. And You have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign over the earth!"

The wind slowed and he was caught in one of the last distinct rays of the sun as it set beyond the window.

"Deserving is the Lamb, who was sacrificed, to receive all the power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and majesty and blessing!"

The light from the candles dimmed a bit, and the prayers of his fellow priests softened to a whisper. His own voice grew louder.

"To Him who is seated on the throne and to the Lamb be ascribed the blessing and the honor and the majesty and the power forever and ever!"

After he had finished reciting this scripture, his brothers, standing now to either side of him, began to recite the same phrase over and over. "Servatis a periculum, servatis a maleficum."

"What is it?" As Aimee whispered to Marc, she could feel the energy begin to rise in the room. Something very significant was starting to happen.

"Its Latin, it means save us from danger, save us from evil."

Liam again rose to his feet. The tip of the sword was centered on the floor between his feet, and his hands gripped the handle. He continued reciting the scripture, "... As the Lamb broke open one of the seven seals...there was a white horse whose rider carried a bow. And a crown was given him, and he rode forth conquering, and to conquer. And when He broke the second seal... another horse came out, flaming red. And its rider was empowered to take the peace from the earth, so that men slaughtered one another; and he was given a huge sword."

"Don't stop now." A voice teased from the shadows. "The third is famine, the fourth death, the fifth the cries of the martyrs, the sixth cosmic disturbances."

A storm began to brew outside. Aimee could hear the distant roll of thunder, across the sky shot a bright star. Inside the attic, a large figure stepped out of the shadows, clothed in armor darker than night. There was a veil of shadow across his face, so that no features could be distinguished. There was a sword in his hand, identical to Liam's except that instead of ivy, flames were etched onto its blade.

"Zaebos?"

"It is one of the names by which I am known, Watcher."

"Do you know why I have sought to meet with you?"

The demon laughed. "You wish me to end the conflict on the earth?" His voice was mocking.

Liam did not stumble. "That power is granted to God alone."

"What then, do you want of me?"

"You've been toying with a human spirit."

"I've done nothing outside of my power." The demon stared solidly at Liam.

"You've marked a human soul. You've oppressed her."

"Why are you meddling in this matter, Watcher?" The demon's eyes narrowed. His stance was tense, ready.

"You are manipulating free will. Leave her alone." Liam lifted his sword.

"Or what?"

"To me it was given the power to conquer, and by Christ I may send you back to the Abyss."

The demon raised his sword and stood ready for battle. Liam matched his stance, his shoulders square in echo of his opponent.

Then, the demon struck at Liam, who met his blow. "Don't you see that my work is well underway? I have millions of children. As for the girl..."

Liam had forced the demon's blade to the ground. Zaebos stepped forward and looked right at Aimee. "He knows where you are now, your blood ties you too him. My part of the bargain is fulfilled."

Light rose from beneath the floor around the circle, a visible sign of its barrier. Even though she knew that he couldn't reach her, his gaze was terrifying. She could feel her heart beating in her throat. She knew that it was true that his blood pulsed through her veins. He had been Marc's maker, and that would forever bind them.

Liam swung his sword, stopping it just above the demon's head. "Remove the mark."

Zaebos lowered his sword to the ground, and turned to face Liam. "Alright watcher, I lift my curse, but it is no matter. He already has her in his grasp." With that the demon began to laugh, and knelt on the floor in front of Liam.

"In nomine Patris et fillii et Spiritus Sancti." Liam brought the blade down across Zaebos' head and shoulders.

The demon disappeared into darkness beneath him in the floor. The hole closed, and Liam let the blade of his sword rest again between his feet. Sweat poured over his body. He fell under the weight of his trembling muscles and leaned his head against the side of the sword. The wall of light, which had risen up around the circle fell again to the floor, and moved in to the center where it disappeared.

His two friends approached Liam. "Come, brother."

They took him under each arm and carried him into the great room. They got two bowls of water and began to wipe down his body. His skin was red, as if it had been seared by fire. "May God restore your strength quickly."

Marc walked inside while Aimee watched from the doorway. "Is there anything that you need?"

"A plate of food, he will be hungry when he comes to himself, thank you." The men never even looked at Marc. They were focused on attending to their brother. They were pale. The ritual had been draining on them as well.

Marc didn't linger. "No, thank you." He meant it with all of his soul. He turned and walked out, to leave them to their work. He took Aimee's hand as they left the room and started down the hall toward the kitchen.

Her steps felt lighter. The shadow was gone. The heaviness on her chest was gone. Despite the fact that her thigh felt like it was on fire, she felt very good, and very grateful to Liam for what he had done. She didn't let the demon's words bother her. She would be free now. She was free to focus on building a life here with Marc, and on building stronger friendships with Liam, Enric, and Natasha. She had hope for the future. She felt strong, and loved. Whatever tomorrow would bring, she would be ready. She had love and support that she had never dared to wish for. With them at her back, whatever happened, she felt certain that she could face it.

-End of Marked.Continue on to read the first two chapters of the next book in the Marked by the Vampire Series, Beauty and the Darkness

# Something Borrowed

It wasn't for the pursuit of power, but rather a deep rooted instinct to fight to survive that drove Aimee to dive headlong into studying the rare gifts of her ancestry. She came from a long line of spiritually gifted women. Her grandmother was a typically red haired Scottish-American with some of the fiercest, most determined blue eyes you could imagine. She had married into another clan of Scotch Americans whose lineage was rich with high priestesses, Pentecostal preachers, prophets, and even a serial killer. Whatever they were, you would be hard pressed to find just one who was ordinary.

Her mother certainly hadn't been ordinary. She had long blonde hair with orange and gold highlights that framed her green eyes like a lion's mane. She was charismatic, and a gifted Empath. Her great grandmother had gifts with plants, and her great grandfather was a healer. He had healed a burn on a baby's face with a technique he called "blowing the fire out." She remembered him telling her once that it wasn't something that could be taught, but was a gift that either you were born with or you weren't.

Even as a child, Aimee had instinctively known that she was born with some measure of these spiritual gifts that her bloodline possessed. She had also learned fairly early on to hide them, or be labeled an outcast. She had never sought to develop her abilities, for any reason, let alone personal gain. She pressed any recognition of them as far back in her mind as she was able to, that is until now. Now, here she was, digging through old anthologies and memories trying to piece back together the puzzle she had worked so hard to distance herself from.

This life that she had built was worth defending. If Aimee had to face the skeletons in her family's closet to build up the strength it would take to face Damian, she was willing. Many things from the night of the cleansing ritual played over and over in her mind. Liam had come through for her when she needed him most. He had risked so much of himself to help keep her safe. She would never be able to thank him for what he had done. The men he had brought in to help him were mysterious, and her thoughts often lingered on them and imagining what they were all about. Maybe the book that Liam had given her in France would tell her something about them. Aimee had barely read more than the cover of that book. She felt a flush of shame that Liam had risked his life to protect her, and she had shown no interest in the effort that he made to teach her more about who he was.

She tucked some of the loose, stained papers from her family tree into the front of a big brown book of birth and death records, and decided to examine the book that Liam had given her more closely. It was an old book, you could tell from the weight and thickness of the paper. A faint musty smell issued from the cover and the binding. It wasn't worn on the edges like some of the ledgers were. This was not a book that had been often read. The cover was a blue, canvas like material. There was an odd emblem at the lower left corner that reminded her of the religious tattoos that she had seen on Liam's back. The wording on the front cover was in some ancient language that Aimee could not recognize. She would try to remember to ask Marc about it later. The numbers marking the chapters were in roman numerals, and their subheadings were in that same unfamiliar languages as the front cover. The chapters themselves, however, were in English. The wording was not modern in any way, but it was no more difficult to understand than that of Nietzsche or Plato, or any other texts, for that matter, that she found so interesting. It was a storybook, as surprising as that was, like a tale from the Grimm brothers, only so much more poignantly told.

She had begun reading with every intention of finishing up her research within a few hours, and then joining Marc. Lost in the pages, the concept of time had escaped her; the stories were stories of God and man, demons, and angels. There were stories of civilizations and governments, grand in nature, and as culturally rich as the Mayans or the Egyptians. These civilizations were older and the stories of their rise and fall were basic and all encompassing. They were stories that, in the end, are befitting to all nations. It was the story of a land of prosperity, born from the ashes of great hardship, ambitious in intention, and ultimately destroyed and all but forgotten due to the fallibility of man.

Some of the names were vague recollections from her childhood study of the Old Testament. Aimee fought to recall what she knew of Sumeria and Babylon, this would certainly warrant further study. Shifting her weight from side to side, the length of time she had sat there on the cold floor of the library was immediately apparent when soreness and a dull ache radiated from her feet to her thighs. Such small pains reminded of her humanity, not so long gone. There is something about the dark stiffness of night that lends to philosophy and reflection. This was true before, and it was still true now. How surprising it was that just now was the first time since meeting Marc, she contemplated the nature of what she was. Aimee's heart was heavy with the weight of each question and implications that accompanied them. She felt her energy waning, and she longed to tuck her body close against Marc's and feel his arms enfold her.

Marc tossed back and forth, fighting with the mattress, the sheet, and the emptiness of the room without Aimee in it. She had slipped away with her book early in the evening. Marc loved to spend time with Aimee in the library, but he recognized that she sometimes needed time to herself, to contemplate the secrets that she never shared even with him. It was more than difficult to maintain composure in her presence. He wanted her and cherished her as if she were the rarest of treasures. He needed her like life needs air and water. She was everything to him. She always had been, and he knew for certain she always would be.

She had been able to escape within herself from time to time, and although these absences of hers were necessary, they filled him with a kind of dread and pain that bordered on despair. It was terrifying and enraging to depend on that connection so completely. He pretended to be sleeping as she crawled over him into bed. He didn't want her to feel obligated to conversation unless she wished it and he certainly didn't want her know that he was incapable of resting without her by his side. She pressed her body against his and kissed him lightly on the cheek. One small brush of her lips, and he was set at peace. "I know you're awake Marc," Aimee said peeking up at him from his side.

"How did you know?"

"I could feel you smiling when I kissed you."

"You are the only one in the world who can know that without seeing my face." He was, of course, smiling. He smiled even more so with her intent gaze on his face.

Sleep came quickly for them both. Marc did not dream, but Aimee was transported to a forest surrounded by darkness. It was hard to see, but things felt familiar. She was sure that she had been here before. Her dreams often led her into the heart of this forest. Many times she had walked along its familiar paths. She knew much of the landscape by heart, and most of the time, it was comforting to be here. There was a lake that she knew, and a meadow, ad if she walked far enough there was a beautiful manor and home. The trees were beautiful, tall and strong. The smell of their bark was deep and rich and fresh. She filled her lungs with the scent of it. She could sense the animals around her, all of them masked in shadow.

There were two squirrels in the hollow of a tree in front of her. On a bough near them, was perched a large barn owl. His eyes tracked the movements of his prey, a small mouse that was scurrying amongst the underbrush. The mouse must have felt the great owl's eyes upon him, because he stopped for one fatal second, hoping, she imagined that he was wrong. She wondered if he believed that he was still safe and hidden. Then, the owl descended in one fell swoop and had the mouse in its grip before it had the chance to react. He flew toward her next, up and over her head. The power of his wings left her breathless, and then she saw a figure draped in shadow standing not twenty yards away.

It was the figure of a man, tall and broad. He wore a cape, or a long coat of some kind, and it disguised the shape of his arms and legs. Finer features such as the details of his face were hidden in shadow. Even with all that was indiscernible, there was something in the way that he held himself. There was something familiar in his carriage, almost regal in his strength and composure. Aimee could not see his eyes, but she knew somehow that they were staring right back into hers. She knew him. His air did not invite her to go to him. He never moved any closer toward her. He did not reach out his arms in welcoming.

At once, Aimee found herself hurrying to decide if he was her friend or her foe. She inhaled deeply, hoping that some scent of his would catch on the wind. A scent could help her in deciphering him. There was nothing but the wet dew, and a faint musk rising from the underbrush. When her mind was still, she heard him. The thought was foreign, but his message was clear. What are you doing, my beauty? Do you still believe you can get away from me? I have given everything to have you. I have given my very soul that I might always find you. You fantasize about freedom, but you are not free, never free.

A cold determination swept over her as she looked at him. She stepped forward, stopping just as she began to see the features of his face take shape, faintly illuminated by the moonlight. She knew who he was. She was surprised in a way that he had not come to her sooner. Liam had banished the demon, who had been helping Damian, but Damian would never give up his pursuit. It was not that he loved her so unconditionally, but rather that he desired so to possess her. He believed that he owned her. There was a time that he had. In her first incarnation on this earth, he had bought her, like a person would purchase livestock.

From the beginning she had fought to be free of him. Thanks to his agreement with the demon, he had always found her. Whenever she had tried to run, he never failed to find her. Now she did not run, but instead stood there in front of him, defiant. She would not enter into a war of words with him if she could help it. He was eloquent, strategic, and more educated. More than any of his intellectual attributes, he could read every inflection of her voice. He knew her fears, and he would feed upon them ravenously given half the chance.

Her stillness took him by surprise, but it did not stop him. He advanced several steps of his own, so that he could better judge her face as he spoke. "What a pretty prison it is that you have made for yourself. The gardens are beautiful. You always loved roses. Do you remember?" He tilted his head a little to the right, lifting his sculpted brow just slightly. His attention fell to a small pink bud that he spun between his fingertips.

She did not want to remember anything about her life with him. What had been brought to her memory of it already was nearly more than she could bear. Her breath quickened, the closer he came to her. She tried to still her body, but she could not. The thought crossed her mind to run. She wanted to run. Every cell in her body bounced with the energy to attempt escape. Some primal part of her mind screamed at her, Run. Get away from him! He will kill us and eat us! It was a ridiculous thought, or was it?

He smiled fully and truly, his fangs flashing with glints of moonlight that broke through the clouds. She wondered if he could read her thoughts, or perhaps it was that he had recognized the fear in her eyes. Whatever the case, he was close to her now. It shouldn't have made her more afraid, but it did. Logically she knew that at one foot or at one hundred, he could kill her in seconds. She had felt the strength he possessed. She had felt his rage, and the pleasure he took in causing her pain. It was just like the great owl and the mouse, he was the owl and she was the mouse. It did not matter if she ran. It did not matter if she was perfectly still. He had her in his sights and he was hungry. She could not stop him. She could not fight him. She closed her eyes, the only hope she had was that at the last moment he might change his mind. Like the owl, he did not. She felt the heat of his breath on her forehead, she felt the pressure of his hands sliding down her forearms, and his fingers interlace with hers. She tried to pull her hands away, but he gripped her fingers so forcefully that tears began to well up in her eyes.

He bore down on her, mercilessly continuing his one sided conversation. "It was the pink roses, I believe, that you liked best. Isn't that right?"

Her fingers ached and the pain lent a sharp focus to her thoughts. She did remember. She could see the roses from her window in the south tower. Their addition to the grounds had been a primarily English influence. Most of them were red or white, but her favorites were the pink roses. They reminded her of stories she had heard of girls who were happy. They reminded her of her little sister, whose cheeks held the same hue when she laughed. More than anything, the roses made her feel hopeful, that despite all the ugliness she had known that there was beauty in this world.

She longed to walk among the roses in the garden, but he had denied her even that simple pleasure. He would bring her single rose from time to time, cut off, so that in a few days' time it would wither and die. She had begged of him some earth to keep in a jar. This small thing he had allowed her, and it was one of her most sacred treasures. She had always tried to get the cut rose to grow and had failed all but once. One day, just before Damian had left out on a raid, he sent up a rose for her. Receiving the rose was always bittersweet. She loved them, but their arrival meant that he would soon come to her. He was cruel, but his company was the only human interaction that she was allowed. The roses were beautiful, and were the only tangible proof she had that Mother Nature was real and alive, and wild, and free. It was everything that she wanted to be. She would mourn them when they died, every one equal to the sorrow she felt when they withered away. She was more than overjoyed when one took root. She put it in the window and watered it out of her own daily water. It almost felt like a friend of sorts for all those weeks that he was away. She thought to hide it, but there would be no point. He searched her room each time without fail, to make sure his wishes concerning her were carried out. If she had hidden the rose, he would be sure of its significance to her. She knew her only chance of keeping it was to pretend as if it did not matter to her. He came back and found it, as she knew he would.

Seeing the rose blooming there in the window sent him into a rage. "Stupid girl!" he yelled as he grabbed the stem of the rose in his hand. "You are a queen, and you continue in the foolish notions of a peasant!" The petals fell against her feet as he continued yelling and shaking the rose violently. "You continue on as a child, finding whatever way that you can to be disobedient to me. You occupy your mind with entertaining yourself instead of pleasing your husband." He flung the rose and the small vase of earth out the window.

She could hear the vase breaking against the stones that protruded from the walls. Something in her snapped, and she began to speak before she had the chance to stop herself. "Even when I was a child, I have never been as a child would be. You know that is true. I have never been afforded the chance to be ignorant, or foolish. You know how I have submitted myself to you and your rule of me, and how you have enjoyed tormenting me. How can I endure this?" The tears that had been welling in her eyes began to spill down her cheeks in two solid streams. "I am convinced that you are a demon, or the devil himself. Why don't you just kill me and be done with it?"

He touched his hand to her face softly. She could feel the warmth and the wetness of his blood. The rose had cut his palm. He deserved it. She almost smiled from the satisfaction, but she did not. She had learned to guard her expressions better than that by now. "Would you like that, my beauty?" He dug his fingertips in beneath her jaw, lifting her face and forcing her gaze on him. "Then you would be free of me." He brought his lips down to meet hers in the softest of kisses. "Let me tell you something, my love, I will never let you go, never."

His kisses fell gently down the side of her face and neck. She could feel pain with each one, sharp and immediate, as if each were a blow from his fist. He could wrench the tears from her eyes with whispers and kisses as surely as if he had beaten her. He liked to cause her this pain the most. She could blame him when he hit her, and when he locked her away. This was a different kind of pain. He could taste her disdain, and in anticipation he pulled her closer. She hated him, but he had made sure that his touch would be her only comfort, and only when he chose to give it. He liked to feel her need for him, and to know what it did to her heart to acknowledge it. He loved the fight in her, and better than the fight was how he could force her to relinquish it.

Aimee closed her eyes so that he could not see the tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. No! She thought. This isn't real. I won't let you hurt me anymore. She knew that this was a dream, some kind of twisted nightmare, and she fought to find her way out of it.

He pressed his lips to hers, and for a moment she waivered. God help her, she waivered. For just a moment, all the evil he had done her was of no consequence. There was only their physical need, and it was as basic as that.

The sound of her name brought her back to consciousness. "Aimee!" Marc was shaking her shoulders. His face was intent. He was completely focused on saving her. He had to wake her up. Slowly, she began to realize that she was here with Marc, who had woken her from this terrible dream. Her hands gripped the sheets in two balled fists. The back of her body was drenched in damp sweat. Marc was looking at her as she came to herself. Aimee had rarely seen Marc's face so drawn in concern. As she became aware of herself, low in her body it was apparent that her arousal had translated. She was embarrassed, and the heat climbed up her face. She didn't know how to look at him. She wondered what secrets she had told while her mind wandered in slumber. Aimee could not help but wonder if she had been screaming, or crying. She wondered if she had expressed her fear, or worse, her longing. The thought turned her stomach. She must be evil, or at least horribly malfunctioning to feel those things that she could not admit fully even to herself. Aimee had never generally been one to cry easily, but after that nightmare, she felt so horribly and completely hopeless that to cry was all she had the power to do.

Marc wrapped his arms around her, rocking her back and forth as he held her until her crying calmed. "What is it, my darling that has brought you to such despair?" Marc brushed back the wild tangle of hair, so he could see Aimee's face clearly.

"It was just a nightmare. It's over now, you don't have to worry." Aimee looked into Marc's eyes and smiled as genuinely as she could.

Her smile was unconvincing, and Marc's expression became more severe. "I relinquish so much control to you for fear that in holding you too tightly, I will push you away. I lie here alone, as you drink your fill of old anthologies for hours and hours on end. I have done all I can to give you what you need. I have been more than willing, but I will not let you lie to me."

His words tore at her heart. "If I have lied to you, it was only to protect you. Since you must have it, I will tell you everything, even though I don't understand what is happening myself." Being fully resolved to tell Marc the truth did not make speaking the words any easier. Aimee thought for a moment about how she could word things to begin to explain. Nothing seemed right, so she decided for direct honesty. "The nightmares are back."

Marc fought to control his rage. Even under the guise of proper pitch and a blank face, Aimee could still see it reflected in Marc's eyes. His anger crawled across her skin, as he pressed her for more detail, "How long?"

"It stopped for a few weeks after Liam's ritual. Then, the dreams started back. It's happening more and more often now." The look on Marc's face made Aimee wish that she were a better liar. She would have done anything to have born this horrible and shameful burden alone.

"Why didn't you tell me? After all of this time, after everything, you still feel like you have to hide things from me?" Marc pressed her now for answers that he had been too afraid to seek before. This might be the only chance he had to ask, and he needed to know what barrier there was still to her trusting him wholeheartedly.

There was nothing Aimee could do but be honest. Marc was right. He deserved the truth from her. He had given everything for her, to her. He deserved the truth. "What would you have done, Marc? What could you have done? You cannot fight a memory."

She was right, Marc knew that she was. There was nothing that he could do. He could not protect her from this. Exhausting every resource, he had changed nothing. Aimee could see, as his rage gave way to despair. "What would you have of me then? Should I pretend not to see the pain that he causes you? Should I ignore the space he has put between us? Tell me what you want from me to make this somehow better."

Aimee leaned in and kissed Marc. She kissed him with all of the passion and need that had been suppressed alongside her fear and shame. She let him feel how very much she loved him, needed him, and wanted him. He opened to her, pressing back with the intensity of his own need and desire. As they pulled away from each other, Aimee knew that this had only been a temporary distraction. She had no idea how to handle this, or if anything could be done at all. She looked into Marc's eyes and spoke her heart. "Knowing that I have you on my side means everything to me. Because you love me so unconditionally, things are already better."

Marc took the small comfort that Aimee offered. This past year had been difficult beyond what either of them could have imagined. Marc knew that the key to getting through this would be the perspective that they chose. Holding her in his arms, He was even more determined to protect her. He had to find some way to keep her safe from Damian. He laid awake for hours, sorting through past acquaintances in his mind. There had to be someone that he could call on in all the years that he had walked this earth that could help him to put a stop to this. Liam was still the best resource he could think of. If Liam couldn't help any further himself, he would certainly know who could.

Marc sent Liam a message the next day, and just as he had always done, Liam replied with, "I'm on my way." Within hours he was walking through the front door. He did not wait for Marc to extend the typical cordialities when he arrived. He could see from Marc's face and hear in his tone how serious his concern was. "I got here as quick as I could. What's going on?"

The pain in Marc's face had to have been obvious. "It's Aimee, The nightmares have started again. She's distancing herself from me. She barely eats, and what rest she might have is torn from her by these dreams." There was disdain in Marc's voice as he spoke the words dream and nightmare. These words did not begin to describe what was happening.

Liam could hardly believe that Aimee was already struggling again, and worse, that Damian was the source of her torment. Liam sorted through year upon year of memories, trying to think of what could be done. This had all begun with a demon's curse. Banishing the demon had not solved the problem, and Liam had to wonder why. Demons are messengers of the Dark Lord, as angels are messengers to the Father God. Perhaps it was that Damian's bargain was not with the demon at all, but rather was with Satan himself. There was no way to "banish" Satan. He is already a prisoner and his fate sealed.

The intensity of Liam's thoughts was apparent to Marc. "What is it, Liam? All of these years you have been as a brother to me. I trust you. Tell me what is happening, and what must be done."

Liam had never lied to Marc. He had never deceived him in any way. Yet, here he was boiling with the desire to lie to his friend. Marc had always been good at reading people. He could see the hesitancy in Liam, and feel the weight of his hidden revelation. It was suffocating. "Marc, if the deal that Damian made had been with the demon, the ritual would have stopped this." Liam took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. The sunlight was shining in brightly through the windows on either side of the doors. It should not have shone so brightly. It should not have been beautiful. One of his closest friends was standing here in complete hopelessness, and it was a beautiful day. There was something wrong with that.

"Liam, tell me what you think is happening."

He wasn't sure, but Marc had asked him directly. He believed that Marc could cope with the truth. He had to. "I believe that the deal Damian made was with the Devil. If I'm right, the demon only carried the message. Satan is bound, but his power and influence are ever present on this earth. It's like the leader of a criminal organization, who can send out orders even when they are in prison. There are hosts of demons. Banishing one at a time will never work."

Liam had rarely felt emotions, at least not in any human sort of way. Despite not often feeling emotions, Liam had a gift for picking up on the emotions of others. Marc's sorry and despair over Aimee was beginning to seep into him. Marc relied on him as a friend and as a protector.

"What is to be done?"

Marc's question was a simple one. It was too bad that such a simple question could not be answered simply. "I'm not sure what the answer is, friend. Whatever it is, I do not think we will find it in modern Christianity. The answers we need will be much closer to the source than that."

Liam's speech always seemed encrypted. Marc had often wondered if Liam did that on purpose, or if he was speaking as plainly as he could. "Can the witches help us?" Marc wondered.

"I don't see how, but you can ask." Liam winced at the mention of them. They had often become hungry for power. He destroyed his share of them over the centuries. It would be wrong to chide Marc for thinking of them, but this would not be something he could help with.

"What else can I do?" Marc asked. He would consider the aid of anyone at this point.

"Pray."

"Pray? Do you have any idea how long it has been since I prayed? I would not know how to begin, neither does it matter. God will not hear me, Liam." The strain showed on Marc's face, and in his eyes which held a deep pain. He had given up his religion when he became a vampire. He never believed that the two could co-exist. He couldn't believe it, especially after what he had to do.

"Then tell Aimee to pray, because if it's the Devil you are dealing with, no one else can help you."

Marc could sense someone at the top of the stairs. He could hear Aimee on tiptoe as she tried to sneak back toward their room. He sighed deeply, "I don't have to tell her. She was standing at the top of the stairs."

Liam let out his breath slowly. He would not have been so blunt if he had known Aimee was listening in on them. "How long was she standing there?"

"I'm not sure, just for the last I think. You should go up and talk to her. It would do her good to see you."

"You're right." Liam started up the stairs after her. He had to skip every other step. With his height, his stride was much too long to have used each step.

In no time, Liam was standing on the second floor. Aimee had pushed the heavy wooden door partially shut behind her. She was lying on the bed and facing toward the window, pretending to be asleep. Liam knew better. He sat down on the bed behind her as gently as he could, and began to speak. It was easier to tell her the truth when he didn't have to look into her eyes anyway.

"Aimee, I know you can hear me. I came here to help you. I'll stay as long as you need me to."

She had been crying. Liam could hear it in her breath. If it were possible, he felt worse that he had been so direct earlier.

"Liam, you said that I should pray, but does God hear me now? Marc says he doesn't hear those like us."

Liam started to try and explain Marc's statement, but Aimee would have none of it. She had heard their conversation. There was no mistaking what was said. "I believe that He can hear you, Aimee. It's easy for most vampires to believe that God cares nothing for them. If the Maker does not care, then His rules do not apply. The hunger you feel now, the taste for violence, it is hard to reconcile with Christian beliefs. Think of the lioness, she can be violent and blood thirsty, but she is also beautiful. However deadly she is, she is still one of God's creatures. God made the beauty in her, along with the darkness."

Aimee sat up and leaned into Liam. His arms enfolded her like the branches of some great tree. She felt protected, as he continued to try and answer her questions. "Aimee, dig deep into the scriptures. Reconcile the words with your own experiences. I think that you will find that there is just as much truth as lies in what you've been taught. Life is about having a personal relationship between you and God. Ask Him, and I believe He will help you."

Liam's words made sense, and they helped her feel a sense of comfort. "Do you speak to Him often, Liam?"

"Every day."

"And does he answer you?"

"Yes, but not always in the way that I would like. It's kind of like talking to you. I get a response, but it often leaves me in bewilderment."

Liam smiled broad and big. The sight of him on the verge of laughter was borderline frightening. Aimee did not want to be frightened any more than she wanted to be amused. She wrinkled up her forehead, grabbed her pillow, and smacked him on the side of the face with it.

"That's not funny!"

Liam just kept laughing and fell back, pretending to be overtaken by her. Aimee was still hitting him with the pillow as Marc walked in.

"Okay, so I guess you're taking the news well?"

Aimee put the pillow down and leaned back against the headboard. She didn't know what she would do without these moments of levity. As important as the happy glimpses she could find even greater need for them in Marc. He had seemed so beautifully calm and content once. His peacefulness had been irreparably shaken by these battles with Damian. Aimee was even more resolved now to find an answer on her own. There was an idea growing inside her. There was a thought that flashed briefly behind her eyes. She would consider everything that Damian desired in her, and she would destroy it. She would suffocate every aspect that appealed to him, but she would not bury her ambitions there. She would rebuild herself into something that he feared. Damian knew nothing of respect or of compromise. Fear would do instead. He showed her the face of the monster behind his perfect mask. In rage, hate, and want, he gave her a glimpse into himself. She knew his ferocity, but Aimee also knew his vulnerabilities. A smile swept across her face at the thought, she was about to slice them wide open, and watch the beast bleed out.

Aimee's eyes must have shown that she had drifted away. Liam broke the silence first. "Aimee, have I ever told you that you are incredibly creepy when you smile like that?"

Aimee blinked and focused in on Marc and Liam who were staring at her, attempting to read her mood. She was happy, almost school girl giddy with this idea that gave her hope that she was not so helpless after all. Liam had walked over by the window. Marc sat down on the bed beside Aimee. It was good to see something other than panic and pain written on her face. He missed her. Leaning in toward her, Marc whispered, "I think it's sexy."

She kissed him quickly and chastely, teasing him with all of the truth of the thoughts which he saw in her eyes. "That is because you are a masochist."

"Am I?" He quipped back as his eyes tracked her movement to the other side of the room.

She glanced back at him for a second over her shoulder. "You must be."

Aimee's attention was now drawn to Liam whose expression had grown serious. "Tell me what's happening, Aimee. You know that I will do everything I can to help you."

She believed him. There were a precious few people that Aimee trusted, and Liam was one of them. "The three of us are long overdue for some time together. Let's go somewhere together tomorrow and enjoy each other's company." In truth, all Aimee wanted right now was a distraction, and some time to consider her course of action before letting anyone else in on it.

Liam, like Marc, had learned quickly that it was useless to argue with Aimee. She was headstrong. If he pushed her, he knew she would push back that much harder. Liam would let her choose their activity, and hope that in letting her feel comfortable, she would choose to share what was happening with him. "Where would you like to go, Aimee?"

"We could go down to the gorge. It's warm enough now, and besides, I feel safer if we stay here on our own property." It was hard even now for Aimee to voice her opinion of the things she wanted. Something as simple as a destination still made her feel town between her own inclinations, and her desire to please others.

Liam would not have cared really where Aimee chose, but he understood her, and her need to weigh every decision. "You're right. The weather is certainly good enough now for some time by the river, and with us going somewhere so close, I get to sleep in."

There was mischievousness to Liam's smile that brought out his eyes in a striking way. His presence was calming, and his sense of humor contagious. Aimee wished sometimes that he had someone to bring out that side of him more. She knew how much her relationship with Marc had made both of their lives better. Liam deserved some happiness. The thought was amusing, but in reality there was no woman that she could think of, either real or fictional that would be a match for him. It is well known that there are no females of his kind. They were never meant to pair up or to reproduce.

There was one time, recorded in the book of Exodus, where some had tried to do just that, and with human women no less. The entire thing ended in terrible catastrophe. God killed them all, even their children. They were an abomination in his eyes. What they did was never meant to be. It's hard not to wonder how it is that such a creature could be so deplorable in the eyes of God that annihilation is all that they deserve. In that respect, it is hard to see how vampires did not meet the requirements for this automatic death sentence. Thinking about how God must view vampires as a creation was an overwhelmingly immense thing to contemplate.

"You are far away from us, my love, where have you gone?" Even lost in such complex thought, Marc could draw Aimee's gaze to meet his wit the slightest change in posture and tone.

Aimee had worked too hard to lighten the mood for her to darken their thoughts with the endless possibilities of God's approval or disapproval as it may be. "You know how my mind can wander." Her answer was simple and her smile bright enough that Marc relented to her desire to keep those thoughts to herself.

"Let's go to bed, and set your mind to rest." Marc cuddled in beside her on the bed. His proposition was in the most polite of wording, but his voice carried a heavy dose of seduction that was comforting, familiar, and full of promise.

"On that note," Liam said heading toward the door, "I will see the two of you in the morning."

# Life and Death Are One

The next morning, Aimee found herself awake and staring at the mahogany tiles on the bedroom ceiling. The house was full of those same intricate details. There were so many that in quiet times like these, she would often notice those small details and take a moment to appreciate what must have went into creating them. At the time they had been made, it is impossible that they were mass produced. Each tile must have been hand carved. The patter must have taken hours of concentration, and years of training and skill. It is a great sacrifice for a human to devote so much of their life's energy to a trade craft. There are so few craftsmen now.

Marc had been awake for several minutes, admiring the details of Aimee's face and the cascade of wild blonde hair that framed it. He loved that she could be so content admiring artistic details and thinking of times long past. Marc was alive when those tiles were crafted. The craftsman was actually a close friend of his. He was a young man when they met, the son of a small village farmer. He had learned the craft from his grandfather, and elaborated upon it with a degree of natural talent that was unmatched. He had never been formally trained. He had never seen the Louvre, or floated a canal in Venice under the stars. He knew nothing of the art created by the masters of his day, and yet they shared the same creativity and ambition. Marc wondered if Aimee could see the boy in his work, or if she imagined a different kind of man altogether.

"What do you see in them?" Marc asked when Aimee approached him.

She took some time to think before she replied. "I see beauty." Her answer was simple and honest. It was exactly the kind of answer that Marc had come to appreciate from Aimee in these rare, still moments.

"So do I." Marc whispered gently in Aimee's ear as he kissed the side of her face and smiled. He wrapped his arms around her, crossing them tightly around her waist. "Now, let's go and enjoy our morning together."

"What happened to sleeping in?" Aimee teased. He could so easily awaken the playful side of her.

"If I stay here another minute with you, I will not be able to tear myself from this room for days." The hunger in his eyes flashed wildly. He meant every word. This was not what she had planned for today, however.

Aimee jumped up quickly and threw the covers back behind her onto Marc. "You and I are going to the gorge today, and I have every intention of having a great time."

"Good." Marc's smile broadened. "Wear the white bikini top."

"I will wear whatever I please." Aimee turned her back to Marc and dug through the drawers of the old armoire.

It was good to see her exercising her assertiveness, even if it was with him. She rifled through several things before she pulled out the white bikini top, a flannel shirt, and a pair of cutoff jeans. Marc chuckled quietly to himself. "I am wearing it because I want to. It's not my concern if you like it or not," she shot back. It did cross her mind though. She loved to push Marc to the verge of shattering his careful composure, and to know it was all because of her. They were a wonderful distraction to one another. The solace that they found together offered such sweet sanctuary from the demons that plagued them.

It was a hike down to the gorge, but the view when they got there was worth the mosquito bites and briar scratches. The sun broke through the tree canopy, casting an otherworldly ambiance to the river. It was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes your mind go blank of everything except what is right in front of you. The air was crisp and fresh, barely damp from the mist that rose from the waterfalls. The water roared its power, echoing off of the rocky cliffs. Aimee lost herself in thought for a moment, contemplating the beauty and the power of it all. This was the perfect getaway for the three of them. In this place, they were so far removed from the concerns of councils and obligations, curses, and stalker ex-lovers. In all of the world, there were not two men more perfect to share such a day with. There would undoubtedly be some sort of masculine competition of strength and will, but there would also be laughter and the peaceful companionship that they always shared when they were together. Most of the morning was spent wading through the shallows. The sun beat down on their backs, making the cool water much more pleasant. Liam kept ahead of them, never walking out of earshot.

Throughout the day, Liam and Marc spoke of some of the adventures they had had near rivers all around the world. Some of the rivers the spoke of were grand in size or power, others were in exotic places. Aimee remained mostly silent as they spoke, just enjoying the peacefulness and the calm she felt inside. The three of them had not spoken of Damian or of the nightmares again since their conversation back at the house. They would need to sit down together soon, but not today. Today was a day for peace, and to enjoy one another's company. Aimee was tired, and her fatigue was growing, but the fun that Liam and Marc had imagined for midday got her adrenaline going. Apparently Liam especially prided himself on his cliff diving abilities. Marc, of course, had decided that he would try to do it better. Sometimes Aimee wondered how long their competitions had been going on, if it had been decades or centuries.

The bond and understanding that Liam and Marc had was obviously forged over much time, and many shared experiences with one another. Aimee felt very grateful that Liam had offered her his friendship so immediately and completely. Aimee had not had many true friends in her life. She probably could have counted them on one hand. She had always found it hard to trust other people. Her idea of friendship included loyalty, trust, and sacrifice. These ideas were not modern ideas of friendship, they are however a similar standard of friendship that Liam and Marc held. Aimee did trust Liam. She knew that he would do everything in his power to help her. There was no way that she could ever really repay him, but she did respect him, and held him as dearly as she considered her family. The idea of family was far more than just blood to her. Family and friendship were similar institutions of respect, commitment, and loyalty. Watching the two of them, Aimee was filled with the love that she felt for them, and how happy she was that she was here with them in this moment.

Aimee's quiet moment was shattered with the primal yells that Marc and Liam shouted when they jumped from the top of the highest waterfall. Liam, being of larger size than Marc, fell with greater speed and surprising grace. Aimee wondered if Liam would use his wings, but he and Marc decided some time ago that using such abilities was considered unfair advantage. Maybe Marc knew from the beginning that he couldn't have beaten Liam at this game. All Aimee had to do was see the look on Liam's face when he came up from the water to understand why Marc had put him up to this particular competition. He threw his head back, using his hands to wrench the excess water from his hair. Aimee had never seen Liam smile so fully and so genuinely. The combination of the happiness on his face, and the sun that glistened in reflection of the water that dripped away from his head and shoulders brought to mind full remembrance of what he really was. Liam was an angel after all, and in this moment he looked every bit the part.

They explored the river and its cliffs and inlets for hours more before they decided to rest beneath the shade of a large maple tree. Marc and Liam argued over the details of the day's competitive games and imagined advantages or disadvantages. Eventually the heightened excitement calmed and they were left staring off into the distance in between intermittent random conversation. Aimee leaned against Marc's right shoulder, listening and enjoying the cam, and then she fell asleep.

Her sleep was peaceful at first. The sun was shining brightly and warmed her face as she gazed upward toward the clear blue sky. She was wearing a gauzy white dress that floated out with the sweeping of the breeze across her skin. She could feel the texture of the grassy meadow beneath her feet.

She could see the tall oak in the distance. It was standing by itself, strong and solid at the bottom of the sloping hill. It was beautiful, and its shade was inviting, but not at all what she wanted. She wanted to stand in the sun. The heat on her face warmed her through. It felt magnificent. She was standing on her own too, out in the meadow, bust like the big oak, and it felt good. Suddenly, she was tired, so overwhelmingly tired that she lay down in the grass where she was standing. Almost as quickly as her eyes had shut, a dark shadow was cast over them. She opened her eyes to see where the sun had gone, and a single bead of rain, heavy and stinging, fell to her cheek. One after another, the drops began to fall, harder and harder, and so quickly that the rain began to form puddles at her sides. She was soaked completely by the time that she stood up. First, she heard the thunder, and then the lightning struck, at first behind her, and then seemingly all around her. The flashes were blinding. Every hair on her arms stood on end. She could feel the energy pound into the ground, and the vibrations resonated through the soles of her feet. Adrenaline was pulsing through her, forcing her heart to beat quicker and harder with each shallow breath. The storm raged around her until all the noise gave way to a strange inner silence. The sounds all faded and the sensations dulled until she was standing there in a kind of stupor, still and staring out in front of her. Fear had given way to an unnatural calm. Then, she felt his hand running down the front of her arms until his fingers interlaced over hers. He crossed them around her waist, throwing her balance backward into him. The side of his face was cool contrast to the heat of his lips as he bent his head toward her ear.

"Hello, my beauty."

Aimee longed that the calming storm would rage with thunder and lightning if only it meant the absence of this man, the sound of his voice, and his embrace. She reminded herself that this was a dream. He could only hurt her if she let him, and she was not about to.

He waited a moment for her to ask why he was there, or what he wanted. When she did not ask, he began to speak again. "You're not afraid."

She could feel the smile on his face. He kissed a gentle line down her cheek and against the side of her neck as he continued to speak. "Have you been waiting for me then? To come back and feed the spark we last ignited?" He expected her to fight, to resist, so that he could press each intimate combination that he knew would soften her body to him.

She didn't. Instead, she relaxed a little against his tightening grip. She knew she could not over power him, or outsmart him, but if she was careful and intelligent, she could out maneuver him. "You like that I know what you are capable of." Aimee leaned her head back against Damian's chest. "You like that I know your strength. I know that I am no match for you. You like to let me see your anger, and to know that if you wanted to kill me, my life would be yours to take. You like that I know your violence is matched only by your passion. You like that I understand how your body can bring pleasure or pain at your whim."

Aimee could feel the muscles in Damian's chest, arms, and abdomen tense and tighten. She kept leaning against him, aiming for as deep a cut as she could accomplish. "You can force me to submit to your will, you can hurt me, you can take my body, or my life. You can make me want you. You have power over me in all except one thing. "

"And what is that?" Damian asked, his breathing quickened by her proximity.

"You can never make me love you." She could feel him draw a quick sharp breath when she spoke. Her words were well aimed. She had done what she could, and she was amazed with her ability to strike at him and land a true blow. She was unfortunately and equally amazed at the speed in which he recovered. Only a few short seconds had passed, and already his composure was solid and impenetrable.

"Still, my beauty, I am more fortunate than some. Am I not?"

She was not about to ask what he meant. He had only ever had one true intention toward her in her mind and that was to hurt her. It didn't matter, however that she wouldn't ask, because he wanted to explain himself anyway. He didn't care to look for an opening to do so.

"I am not the only one that you deny your love, am I? Look at your dear friend Liam, for instance. I've noticed how he looks at you. I've seen the lengths that he will go to so he can protect you. Don't act like you haven't noticed. "

His words bit deeply into her heart. She didn't want to think of Liam in that way, she could not. She thought back over and over in her mind, trying to think if there had been any indication of the sort. He had never said so. How could she know? Aimee didn't even have time to recover from the first cut before Damian resumed speaking.

"Did you pretend not to notice?" he laughed, low and taunting. "Don't pretend like you didn't like it. Truly, I am impressed. I have known him for centuries, and have never seen him moved by anything let alone a woman. I would have said it was impossible. I would have said there is no way that anything could crack through that armor of his. His heart is stone. Yet, here we are, and even the mighty angel is brought low by you. Bravo, my dear. I must say, bravo." He clapped a couple of times mockingly.

"You are a liar! Liam is not in love with me. He is my friend, and Marc's and nothing more!" Aimee fought back the tears that stung at the backs of her eyes.

"You're right. I am a liar, but that doesn't change anything at all. At least I can admit it. They don't know your true nature though do they? You play the victim perfectly for them. It makes them feel like tremendous heroes, I'm sure. I wonder what they would think of you if they could see into your heart, into your mind, for just one moment without all of that bullshit you throw up to fool them? You like seeing me as the monster because it's easier than facing your own reflection in the mirror." He used his left hand that he had resting on her hip to turn her to face him while he guided her jawline up with his right. He stopped just short of completing the kiss to whisper low. "I see you, my beauty, all of you. I would not reject one part, not even what invokes my rage. I would never turn from you in disgust because of anything you could do or say. I don't need for you to love me. For now, I'll take your hate." With that, he brought his lips to hers.

She would not cry. She would not show him the damage he had done. She would not give him what he could not already take. She let her mind begin to drift away as she had learned to do so long ago. She had to find that place inside that was still and safe, and numb. She had barely made it there when Marc jolted her from her nightmare.

"Aimee! Wake up!" He shook her and called to her with Liam looking on. He had lost track of how much time had passed before her eyes finally opened. It didn't matter. He was so relieved to see her staring up at him. "Tell me."

Marc was direct in his demand. His gaze never faltered. He knew. He must have known on some level, but still he asked for the details. He rarely pressed her so forcefully, especially when he knew it was about something that upset her so much. She had to answer him. What else could she do? And yet was still so hard to find the words to begin speaking. She could not tell him the truth, at least not all of it. Most of what Damian had said to her would surely weigh heavily on Marc's mind. Even the suggestion of some of those darker and depraved possibilities would be enough to change things. If it didn't change things between the two of them, it would change things between Marc and Liam, and probably between herself and Liam. She didn't want to dwell on them. She didn't even want to speak them again, not even one more time to explain things to Marc.

The truth was, in some ways Damian was right. There was a weakness in her. She had wrestled with it last winter. It had driven her to seek out Elsie in New Orleans. She wrestled with it still. Damian was right about how she feared to accept that part of herself. More than that, now she feared Marc's reaction to it. He had always seen her as the light to his darkness. To him, she was a representation of the better aspects within himself. His love for her had kept him balanced. His idea of her had driven him back form the abyss over and over again. She couldn't let him see that she could very well be the shadow crawling out of the abyss itself to devour what humanity might be left in him. He would do anything for her, too much. The lengths he would go to in order to spare her perceived innocence were frightening. His devotion to the idea of her was far too absolute, and she feared it would be something that could ultimately tear them apart.

"It was just another nightmare." She looked down, afraid that he would somehow be able to read the details from her mind.

Liam jumped up and faced the water. He was angry and speaking in some language that she could not understand or even begin to guess the origin of. Marc's reaction was much different than she could have expected. He looked down, took her hands in his, and said, "I'm so sorry this is happening to you. I will not stop until I find some way to end it."

\- End Bonus Chapters. Thank you for your purchase! If you enjoyed this book please take the time to rate it on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

\- ########

# About the Author

I'm an avid reader of anything Paranormal Romance (I especially love vampires). I'm the author of my own Paranormal Romance Series: Marked which is published on amazon and available in Barnes and Noble. I'm married to my high school sweetheart, and we have two sons and a daughter. I drink way too much sweet tea, mostly when I'm staying up all night writing down the scenes in my mind. Some of my favorite authors are: Anne Rice (of course), Laurell K. Hamilton, H.P. Mallory, Annie Nicholas, Christine Feehan, and Christine Warren.

Thank you for purchasing this book! If you enjoyed it, please take the time to write a review or rate it. It makes all the difference for us authors.

# Other Books By This Author

Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by A.N. Meade:

Marked by the Vampire Series

Marked

Beauty and the Darkness

Rise of the Blood Queen

Love and War

# Connect with A.N. Meade

I really appreciate you reading my book! You can also connect with me at:

Facebook @ A.N. Meade (Official page) or www.facebook.com/ANMeadeunofficial

Twitter: @A_N_Meade

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